#he’d constantly bring it up and make a massive deal about it like the day after it happens

[unknownarmageddon]

Bro and like if Cross’s drunk to where the point he passes out so like when he’s sober n’ all plus yk not being his goofy romantic self, someone reminds him he did that, his face; PURE PURPLE BLUSH

Man’s d e a d and like if he remembers saying it when he wakes up man’s just like ‘where- where am I- wha-,, [insert flashbacks]’ dude proceeds to cover his face and just scream ,, plus blush IMMENSELY of which would defo confused the hell out of whose around him

And like,, IF IT WAS KILLER, HE WAS TALKING TO. THAT DT DRIPPING [DINK] WOULD NEVER LET CROSS LIVE THAT DOWN (but like. No way Killer wouldn’t be flustered by that in the moment Cross says it and the two gays just end up kissing a few moments after Cross had said that cause it’s Kross) (but like fr Killer would always mention it and just pretend he didn’t melt when he first heard Cross say it)

ohhh oh so real actually

[lfcthelovesofmylife]

My Opinions on the England NT players

Luke Shaw - 

literally looks like he’s 15 and 35 at the same time in some pictures. To this day I don’t know how old he actually is. Have not seen him play a single Man U match this season (i don’t like Man U so i don’t watch their matches but still). Does he still play football? I don’t know. Good goal against Italy so i have to give him some praise for that but i genuinely don’t know anything about him. 

Mason Mount - 

I cannot lie, I think I fell in love with him the moment I saw him. If love at first sight exists I think this is it. I would do anything for this man. He looks like he’d sit with you on a bench in your school gym and let you cry on his shoulder (defo not based on real life experiences). What more can I say about him? I would burn the world down for him and then jump off of a cliff if he asked me to. 10/10 especially after missing his pen in the FA cup final. He did that for me xx

Trent Alexander-Arnold - 

Also the sexiest mf I’ve ever seen. Assist king. He seems like a bitch sometimes but I still love him. Does look like if you were nice to him he’d be nice back. Very proud of his achievements. Do just want to find him and give him a massive hug sometimes. I like the new haircut much more. It’s grown on me, he better not change it or some sorry words will be said. Hope he gets picked for the next England matches but I don’t want him to get injured because I’m not mentally stable enough to deal with that.

Tyrone Mings - 

Literally the height of a fucking tree. He’d absolutely destroy me and my five foot two self with just a push. Quite scared of him but at the same time he looks like he’d invite me in for a cuppa and a few biscuits if I was walking past his house in the pouring rain. Probably has a kind soul but I wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of him. 

Kyle Walker - 

Kind of reminds me of a pigeon. I don’t know why, he just seems to have that familiar blank stare. Looks like he’d bark at you for stealing his sandwich in Tesco’s which he never actually bought. Do find him quite funny but that might just be when he’s with John. Overall I wouldn't particularly want to be besties with him.

Jesse Lingard - 

Absolute icon. JLingz. Has the most adorable daughter, she’s so precious. Easily one of the funniest players in the game. I can already tell we’d be best friends. Especially love him after the reports that he got into a scrap with Hazza Maguire. Deserves the world. I hope I get to meet him one day. 

Marcus Rashford - 

Looks like a kind man. Don’t know if we’d get along because we’d fight over who’s Jesse’s better friend. Can already tell he’d try and make me a home-cooked meal if I ever said I was hungry. Would no doubt constantly try to give me food. I’d have to convince him he’s actually a good footballer because Ralf never plays him in matches. Looks like he’d get very emotional sometimes.

Jack Greasy…I mean Grealish -

Don’t like him because he’s a bit of a bellend but I have to admit he’s extremely funny. Doesn’t seem like he has a single brain cell left so it would probably be very difficult to have an actual conversation with him. I salute his girlfriend for putting up with him. I could probably drive better than him. I don’t have my driver’s licence. 

Hazza Maguire - 

Absolutely terrified of him. Would probably tell me to go back to my own country. If I saw him begin to walk towards me I’d run the other way. He’d try and fight me because I’d tell him he’s a shit footballer. Nothing more to say. Traumatises me just thinking about it. 

Jude Bellingham - 

Absolute sweetheart in my opinion. Looks like he’d protect you from all those creepy guys at a house party or club. Would definitely cover your drink if you had to go somewhere for a quick second. Seems like a lovely guy. Want to see more of his personality on the England youtube channel. 

Jordan Pickford - 

Hate him but at the same time I love him. He’s so funny and for what. Suddenly manages to bring out all the skills for England but he’s horrendous for Everton. Might just be because it’s Everton. I do want to punch him sometimes. Wouldn’t be surprised if someone from the team already has.

Phil Foden -

Looks like a prick. He always looks like he’s going to complain about something. Would not be able to stand the guy for a single second. He just looks annoying. I see him on my tv and immediately change the channel. Every time I see his face I want to punch it. 

Jordan Henderson-

DILF. He is the definition of a gentleman. Looks like he’d hold the door open for you if he saw you walking down the corridor. Just seems like the best person to work with. Has an absolute heart of gold. Would sell my soul for him 100%. The best captain in the Premier League. In my opinion he should be captain of England but Gareth doesn’t like Liverpool players. I know he’d give me a whole motivational speech if I told him I was going to give up on my education. He’d 110% hold you in his arms while you cried for a whole hour. 

Ben Chilwell - 

Looks a bit like a Lego man. He has a very square head and I don’t know how to feel about it. He has some of the stupidest tattoos I’ve ever seen but in all fairness he’s a good player. Just don’t support some of the things he’s done (but I won’t go into that). Does look like a massive weirdo. Would probably be a bit scared of him when he’s drunk.

Raheem Sterling - 

Runs a bit like a dinosaur. Very good player just don’t like the fact he left Liverpool for City. The only good thing about that is the fact that he’s managed to get a decent trim now. Arguably one of the best players in the England squad but i’m still holding a grudge against him. 

Hazza Kane -

Looks like he might call me a racial slur. I would 100% be able to absolutely hammer him in a fight. Don’t really like him at all. How are you captain of your national team if you can’t even be captain of Spurs. SPURS. It’s just a bit embarrassing on his behalf. 

Reece James - 

As I said previously, he looks like he’d absolutely batter you in a fight but he’d also give you a really good hug if you were sad. Reminds me of a teddy bear. Seems like he’d have a bit of a short temper, but as long as you were his friend you wouldn’t be in danger. If you weren’t, good luck to you (RIP). 

Jadon Sancho - 

Proper joke man. Again, I’d be best friends with him because I think we have a very similar sense of humour. Would no doubt annoy every single member of the team. We’d be banned from seeing each other because we’re too annoying together. Is he okay? I haven’t seen him play in a long time. 

Declan Rice - 

My boyfriend’s best friend. We’d also be best friends. There are too many funny players in this squad, but this guy is my absolute favourite of them all. His rendition of ‘Ice, Ice, Baby’ brought tears to my eyes. Should be the new national anthem. Extremely happy he’s got a much better trim now. Does need a bit of a tan though, he looks ghostly white sometimes. He should ask Mason where the best tanning beds are. 

Kalvin Phillips and Kieran Trippier - 

Had to put these two together because I genuinely have no opinion of them. Literally who are they. 

Bukayo Saka - 

Looks like such a nice guy. The type of guy you’d bring home to meet your parents. Would offer you popcorn if he saw you around, and would always ask how you’re doing and actually mean it. Wins the award for ‘Nicest Guy’. Don’t understand how anyone could not like him. Would probably cry with you while you’re crying. 

John Stones - 

Perfect name for him tbh. Looks like he’s stoned half the time. He’d probably punch the Hazza’s for calling you a racial slur. Would be the best person to get drunk with, he’d probably try and give you (really bad) relationship advice and then convince you to sing Valerie by Amy Winehouse with him. Overall a decent guy, only downside is that he plays for City. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

i’m giving up this life ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 1996

request?: no

description: after his wife takes a bullet meant for him, tommy finds she was holding a secret from him, and that it is time for him to give up on the gangster lifestyle

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence

masterlist (one, two)

Tommy closed his eyes as the shot rang out. For once, he was prepared for whatever was coming, and he even started to silently ask for forgiveness in his next life.

However, the end didn’t come. There wasn’t even any pain that would’ve indicated he was shot. When he opened his eyes, he found his wife laying on the ground at his feet instead, a pool of blood growing around her.

The man who had attempted to kill Tommy was frozen in shock as he watched the infamous gang leader fall to his knees. He took his wife into his arms, cradling her as he frantically tied to stop the blood coming from her wound.

"Come on, love,” he begged. “Wake up, stay with me.”

Her skin was ice cold. Tommy’s hands were stained red within seconds of touching her wound. He was panicking, his mind wasn’t working properly.

Anger started to course through his veins, and in one quick motion, he pulled his gun and shot the man until he was riddled with bullet wounds. He scooped (Y/N) up in his arms and quickly carried her out of the room.

“Tommy!” Arthur called as Tommy emerged from the building. “What happened?”

“I don’t know where she came from,” Tommy said, still in a partial daze of anger and worry. “One minute it’s just me and him, the next I find (Y/N) in front of me after...she’s bleeding so much.”

Arthur opened the door of his car. “Get in, I’ll get us to the hospital.”

~~~~~~

The wait was agonizingly long. Tommy had begged to be in the room with (Y/N) as they operated on her, but the doctor was firm in having him wait in the waiting room. The Peaky Blinders may have had most officials in Birmingham under their thumb, but the doctors still held a certain level of professionalism no matter who their patients were.

Polly came to be with him while Arthur and the boys went to deal with the body Tommy had left behind. She was watching him pace back and forth in front of her. “Tommy, pleas sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

“How much longer till we hear something?” Tommy asked, ignoring his aunt. “They’ve been in there for so long.”

“It takes time, dear. They have to make sure she doesn’t have any complications and she’ll make a full recovery.”

“Why don’t they know yet?”

Polly sighed as Tommy finally sat next to her. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and struggled to light it. His hand was shaking so much the flame wouldn’t stay over the cigarette. She placed a more steady hand over Tommy’s and guided the light to the cigarette.

“She’ll be okay Tommy.”

Tommy was blinking back tears as he took a puff from his cigarette. “Why would she put herself in danger for me?”

Polly took Tommy’s hand in hers. “Love makes you do crazy things, and she loves you so much.”

Tommy didn’t say anything. Instead, he took another long puff off his cigarette.

(Y/N) was an angel; a kind woman with a heart of gold who was strong and unafraid of anyone or anything. Tommy could never understand what it was that made her fall in love with him, and he’d never understand how she could love him so much that she’d risk her life for him.

When the doctor emerged and called (Y/N)’s name, Tommy was standing within seconds. “Is she okay?”

“She will be after some rest,” the doctor told him. “She lost a lot of blood, but you got her here just in time. We managed to extract the bullet and stitch up her wound. They’ll both be just fine.”

“They?” Tommy asked.

“The baby.” Tommy’s eyes widened, which answered any questions the doctor had. “You didn’t know.”

Tommy was shocked into silence. He didn’t even know (Y/N) had suspected she was pregnant. If she had known. Maybe she didn’t, or else she would have told him, right?”

“Can he see her now?” Polly asked, coming to Tommy’s side.

“Of course,” the doctor responded. “Go on in, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy’s feet moved before his mind caught up with him. He found (Y/N) in her hospital bed, her eyes closed and the color slowly returning to her face.

He was almost afraid to touch her as he pulled a chair up next to her bed. She looked so fragile, like even a slight touch would cause her to shatter into pieces. He gently brushed her hair from her face, allowing his hand to linger against her face for a moment longer.

“I’m not worth this, love,” he whispered. “I deserved that bullet, not you. It was meant for me. I should be the one in this hospital bed.”

His hand moved from her face to her stomach, gently touching the spot where his child was growing inside of her.

“I didn’t even know. I continued to put your life in danger because of what I am, and because of that we almost lost our baby.”

With no one around to see him, Tommy let the tears freely run down his face.

~~~~~~

(Y/N) was unconscious for a total of three days. Tommy did not leave her side for a single moment. Each of his family came to visit their sister-in-law, and to make sure Tommy was okay. Polly often brought food for him, knowing he wouldn’t eat otherwise.

The doctors continued to give (Y/N) a shot that was meant to help give the baby nutrients to grow while (Y/N) was unconscious. Every time someone came in to give her the shot, Tommy just wished she would finally open her eyes again, that she’d finally be okay to grow the child on her own.

Ada was the last to visit, bringing a small bouquet of flowers with her for (Y/N).

“How is she?” Ada asked, taking a seat in the chair next to Tommy.

“The doctors say she’s stable,” Tommy responded. “They say it’s only a matter of time until she wakes up.”

“She’ll wake up soon,” Ada assured him. “She’s a fighter, remember? A real Shelby.”

This managed to make Tommy chuckle slightly, the first time in days that he showed even the slightest positive emotion.

“I suppose Polly has told the family our surprise announcement,” he said, his eyes trailing back to (Y/N)’s stomach again.

“Only me,” Ada responded. “She figured you two would want to tell everyone when (Y/N) wakes up, but she also knew you’d need someone while she’s still out. Someone who doesn’t have a cock between their legs.”

Tommy smiled slightly again. Polly always knew what he needed, what they all needed. For the woman who never birthed them, she was truly their mother through and through.

“I’m terrified, Ada,” Tommy admitted. “Not of having the baby, but that what I do - who I am - is going to put that baby in danger. I’ve known for years I’m putting (Y/N) in danger, but she’s always insisted she doesn’t mind. It was her choice to be a part of this family and this life, but that baby didn’t get to choose. We’re forcing him into a life of danger, all because of me.”

Ada put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze, but she didn’t try to dispute him. Of course he was right, they all knew he was. Every Shelby man knew the risks of bringing a child into the world of the Peaky Blinders, even Ada knew when she gave birth to Karl. But for Tommy it was so much worse. Tommy wasn’t just a Shelby man, or just a member of the Peaky Blinders. He was their leader. He was the one with a massive target on his back constantly. He was the one their rivals would look to first to find a way to gain leverage over him - meaning they would look to (Y/N) and their baby first.

“I’m giving up this life, Ada,” Tommy said, the words coming out just as he made the decision in his head. “All of it, I’m giving it all up. The minute (Y/N) wakes up and is okay to leave the hospital, I’m taking her to the Garrison where we’ll announce she’s pregnant, and then I’m announcing my leave. Arthur can take over for me. Then, I’m taking (Y/N) as far away from Birmingham as I possibly can. Somewhere fit to raise our baby together.”

Ada was smiling at her brother. “I think that’s a perfect idea, Tommy.”

“Do you really mean it?”

The Shelby siblings looked over to see (Y/N) looking over at them, her eyes still blinking in an attempt to adjust to the bright hospital lighting.

Tommy jumped up from his seat and took (Y/N)’s face in his hands, kissing her face repeatedly. She giggled as he did so, before moving her head so he would kiss her lips. Ada stood as well, smiling down at her sister-in-law. “I’m glad you’re awake, (Y/N).”

“I’m glad you’re the first two I got to see,” (Y/N) responded. “Are those for me?”

“Yeah, I brought them,” Ada responded. “An assortment of your favorites. I figured this drab room needed something to brighten it up.”

(Y/N) smiled weakly. “Thank you, Ada. I really appreciate it.”

Ada gave (Y/N) a gentle hug before leaving her alone with Tommy. His touch was still gentle as he took her hand in his. She was still cold, but he was beginning to feel a slight warmth in her fingertips. It was almost like she was coming back to life all at once.

“I’m sorry I jumped in front of that bullet, Tommy,” she said. “Arthur tried to stop me from running into the building, but I knew what you were going to do and I just...I couldn’t let you...”

She trailed off, but Tommy knew what she meant; I couldn’t let the father of my child die.

“You have nothing to apologize for, love,” Tommy said. “I’m sorry I put you in danger, not just that time but all the times before as well. It’s not fair of me to keep doing this to you.”

“It’s your job, Tommy, and your family. I knew that when I married you.”

“But our baby didn’t know that when we created him.”

(Y/N)’s hand trailed to her stomach, the same way Tommy’s often had when he thought about the baby. “Is he okay?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Tommy’s lips. “It is a boy?”

(Y/N) smiled back at him. “Oh, I don’t know, but I have a feeling. Your mum had three Shelby men before she had one girl, and Ada and John have only had boys so far. I figure it only makes sense that we’ll have one, too.”

Tommy brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her knuckles.

“Did you mean it, Tommy?” she asked again. “About giving up the Peaky Blinders?”

“I meant every word I said,” Tommy responded. “I almost lost you, (Y/N), and I’m not risking that again. I’m not risking losing our child, either. This life was not meant for families, and it’s best to get out before we bring a little one of our own into this world.”

(Y/N) was practically glowing at this news. While she supported Tommy with whatever decision he made, she’d be lying if she said the thought of bringing a child into his world hadn’t scared her. To hear him come to the decision to get out all on his own made her heart feel warm and made her feel happy.

“I love you so much, Tommy,” she said.

“I love you, too, (Y/N). Rest again, love. When you are cleared, we have a lot to tell the family.”

[karlswrites]

Big Vs. Little Spoon

Demon Bois + Non-Dateables Edition

This game is my newest hyper-fixation, so please bear with me. I know there are a lot of head-canons about the boys cuddling, but here’s my rendition. Boy howdy, this one’s a little long...

Warnings: Pure Fluff 

❤️ Lucifer: Because he’s the Avatar of Pride, Lucifer loves feeling bigger than you.  His pride inhibits him from being the little spoon, so he often opts for being the big spoon. Luci can’t help but admire the way his arms completely envelop you when he’s the big spoon. However, if he decides that you’ve been “a good little Main Character,” then he might acquiesce to your request, allowing you to lounge over him. Additionally, Luci prefers that the two of you cuddle in his bed, as it is rather large and extremely comfortable. Seeing you sprawled out over or curled in his comforter fills him to the brim with pride. Being able to hold you close to his chest gives him more pride than literally anything else. Being the elegant fella that he is, he will always lower himself beside you gently, careful not to disturb you. He won’t jump on the bed like some people. 

(I’m so sorry you had to read that one line of dialogue, if you can even call it that.)

💛 Mammon: A true switch on top of and underneath the sheets, Mammon is more likely to be the little spoon than his elder brother. He will never admit to you how much he enjoys feeling your arms slumped over him, but he does love it. He’ll never object to being the big spoon, though, as having his arms and legs draped over you is a HUGE ego booster. Mammon often feels little in the company of his brothers, so knowing that you feel safe and comfortable in his hold makes the guy’s heart melt. I must warn you, though, that Mammon doesn’t hesitate to leap unto your bed, effectively smothering you with his love and adoration. In the private on your room or his, because he loves showing his stuff off, he’ll entangle himself in you. Honestly, it doesn’t matter to him how you’re lying, as long as he gets to stay with you. If you satisfy his greed, and you always do, he will never leave.

(My friend thought of an adorable Mammon x MC Piggy-back ride idea, but that’s for another day, hehe)

💙 Leviathan: This poor boy isn’t used to physical touch, much less having someone in his room almost every night. His only experience comes from a Ruri-chan body pillow, and that thing does not compare to your warmth. At first, you have to be the big spoon. Although he’s embarrassed, Levi adores the feeling of your arms and legs hooked around him. He always takes the opportunity to take his hands and intertwine them with yours over his chest and waist. Now, if Levi gets jealous, then that’s a whole other story. If he notices a few too many people crowded around you or hugging you throughout the day, he’ll find his confidence and trap you into him. He’ll pull you into the bathtub with him, lay you down on his pillows, and act clingy so that nobody mistakes you for theirs. Good luck leaving the tub, ya hooligan. 

💚 Satan: Out of the two options, Satan is probably the big spoon most of the time. He likes holding you close, being able to enjoy some peace and quiet with you. He’s not so much of a ‘little/big spoon’ as he is a ‘two forks lying snuggly together in a drawer’ kind of guy. You lie next to him, your arms looped around his neck or his chest. Satan holds a book over the two of you, reading aloud softly. His free hand is snaked under your waist, his thumb gently stroking up and down your spine with each sentence he reads. On the other hand, if it’s late at night or super early in the morning, he’ll indulge in that prime spooning opportunity. He’d probably place his chin in the crook of your shoulder. He’ll probably have his hands anchored in your waist. He’ll probably - most definitely- slowly turn you around in his arms, letting his hands wander back towards your spine. Satan loves having you pressed against his heartbeat and vice versa. Your heart is the perfect sound for him to fall asleep to. 

💗 Asmodeus: This guy is a little spoon. With how much he loves himself and you, of course, he will curl himself into you. Asmo doesn’t like as much for his back to face you, so he always ends up turning around in your arms. He wants you to have constant access to his face. Whether you’re looking at him or kissing him, it doesn’t matter; Asmo wants your attention on his beautiful face. Being constantly suggestive, especially when it comes to you, he slowly weaves his legs between yours. He doesn’t hesitate when playing footsies, too. In terms of his preferences, he loves hosting you in his room. If you ever want to cuddle in your room, though, then he’ll eagerly agree. Asmo looks forward to leaving the scent of whatever fragrance he’s wearing all over your bedsheets. He wants you thinking about him 24/7 after all. 

(If anyone disagrees with this one, in particular, square up in a Denny’s parking lot.)

🧡 Beelzebub: As long as you’re eating food during cuddling, Beel could care less how you’re placed over him. He’s a big boy, so he’s often the big spoon. One of his arms will snake its way underneath you, holding you tightly around the waist. His other hand is preoccupied with a bag of chips or another tasty snack. Unlike Asmo, Beel is not nearly as handsy. He keeps you in his strong hold the entire time. When he’s done eating, he moves his hand up to your head. His digits will stroke and play with your hair. It’s so soft, and Beel can’t get enough of how relaxed it makes the both of you feel. Another position he likes, which isn’t necessarily spooning, but him lying on his back with you on top. Beel loves, loves, loves your head on his chest. The way his chin rests upon your head is so nice to him. He drapes his arms down your back, hooking his legs over yours. He keeps you in place, and you feel so safe. He is a legitimate teddy bear. 

💜 Belphegor: The Avatar of Sloth is the best cuddler, hands down. He has so many pillows and, upon request, can provide pillow forts, beds, nooks , or whatever you need. You always fall asleep within minutes. Cuddling was a bit difficult at first, as you didn’t always trust him. Actually, it was Belphie’s attempt to gain your trust that led you to be cuddle-buddies (besides your mutual pining, of course). Like some of his brothers, he doesn’t prefer one position over the other. He can be a big or little spoon. You say the word, and he’ll fall into the position with ease. He covers you with blankets, making you appear as a burrito/cocoon. He is definitely warm each and every time you snuggle in close. Belphie clings to you as a sloth clings to its branch, never letting go, even when you wake up. 

❤️ Diavolo: Another big boy, Diavolo is the - drum roll, please- big spoon. He has the broadest shoulders, biggest hands, and widest chest that’s perfect to fall into. Whenever you cuddle, he silently hopes you choose his castle. He’s always so excited to bring you over, and this guy has a massive bed. It’s literally made for a king. Since he’s a ray of sunshine, Diavolo will playfully tug you onto the mattress with him. He holds your face, caressing your cheeks. He grabs your waist, pulling you in even closer. He doesn’t let go until he absolutely has to. Sometimes, Barbatos has to come in and drag him away from you. Diavolo is completely smitten by you, and his affection only grows every time he relaxes against your back. Furthermore, cuddling with you is the perfect way to end a stressful day of dealing with the crazy demon brothers. 

💚 Barbatos: Barbatos may be a butler, but something about him screams big spoon. He loves scooping you up in his arms. The feeling of his heartbeat against your back brings him the greatest sense of comfort. When keeping you tangled up in his arms, he asks now and again if he can move in anyway, get you anything, or do anything to make you feel even more comfortable. He likes his control, but he always aims to please. Barbatos and you never stay still for long. His fingers run along your arms, sides, and shoulders continuously. He, too, likes playing with your hair. If you fall asleep before him, he places kisses on the back of your scalp, neck, and shoulders. He never goes past that, but cuddling allows him ample time to indulge in some innocent physical attention. Expect to be carried out of bed bridal style when the two of you wake up. 

🖤 Solomon: As the Devildom’s official special snowflake, you might never know what you’ll get with him. Solomon prefers feeling your back against his chest, though he will, like Lucifer, reward you by being the little spoon. He’s very calm and cool, so being the little spoon doesn’t embarrass him. He only cares about encasing you with his arms, hands wrapped around you in a big hug. He’s not as outwardly affectionate with you as another guy might be, but Solomon delivers some high-quality snuggles. You feel small and safe against him, and that’s all he could ever want. In terms of location, the two of you typically end up in your room. However, on days when the demon boys are at it again, he will coyly invite you into his dorm. He loves when your scent seeps its way into his bedsheets, but he also loves it when his gets lost in yours. Solomon is always left floored by how such simple affection can make him feel so warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t need to worry about spells with you, and you don’t need to worry about anything with him. 

🤍 Simeon: Similar to Levi, Simeon isn’t used to physical touch, but he’s not as shy. Cuddling you sounds as good as heaven, and he relishes in the feeling of your soft skin against his. Another true switch, in my humble opinion, he is content with being a big or little spoon. He’s an angel, and his greatest concern is how comfortable you are at all times. He’s inexperienced, so he will more-than-happily follow your lead. He never moves without your consent. You might have to reassure him a few times that moving is totally fine. In fact, it’s welcomed. Once he gets that through his noggin, he finally relaxes into you. From behind, Simeon grazes his hands over your stomach, loving the warmth you emit. If you’re behind him, he’ll seize the opportunity to clutch his hands in yours, loving the feeling of your head on his shoulder. He sleeps so much better with you.

[nyxvuxoa]

Dating Dean Winchester would Include:

A/N: Its been forever since I have written anything Dean related. You can read my old stuff here. Gif was found via google. Requests are open.

He’s a hopeless romantic at heart.

Morning sex and cuddles are mandatory. 

 The idea of making breakfast for you in the morning with fresh flowers on the table, he loves it. 

But he wouldn’t want you to get dressed

because chances are, sex on the kitchen table after breakfast or even during if he can push the food aside, is highly likely.

Thicker girl? Doesn’t matter. Believe it or not, he won’t discriminate. If he’s attracted to you, you’ll know it. 

He’s a massive flirt. 

Constantly flirting with you. 

Even if he’s already dating you, he still flirts. The way he sees it, just because he has you doesn’t mean he should stop. 

Sex is a pretty big deal with Dean, apart from drinking. 

You are going to have it every time he’s in town, almost non stop. 

I think the only break you’d have is when he goes to get you both burgers and beers. 

He actually has a few secret kinks.

Which is something he started to really show with you because he felt so comfortable. 

Loves to spank you. 

He even likes to be called Daddy from time to time. It brings out a hidden side of him even more. 

He’s great with aftercare. 

Giving you bubble baths after getting kinky is something he enjoys. 

He loves to wash your body off. 

He draws the best bubble baths by the way, giving you plenty of bubbles. 

You strip for him and he eats it up! 

He loves watching you dance around naked, even if you aren’t showing off for him and just listening to music while you lounge around. 

He has a mirror fetish. 

Its not necessarily always about watching himself, but he really likes to watch his cock going in and out of you. 

Its also because he likes to constantly look at all of you. He loves your body! 

He is constantly telling you he loves you. 

The hard truth is, you never know if something is going to happen to him. 

He may not come back one day. 

So he always wants you to know how much he loves you and how much you complete him. 

You are safe with him, even when he’s not around. 

He wouldn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing to come and save you. 

And he if can’t,  like really can’t, he sends someone else to save you. 

But they have to bring you straight to him after. 

He’s teaches you how to survive, because being with Dean puts a target on your back. 

He teaches you how to shoot and how to use a knife. 

He teaches you what to kill and how. 

He gives you homework to learn about it essentially and for him you are happy to oblige and learn all you can. 

Every once in a while, if he thinks you are ready he might take you with him and Sam, but it will make him super clingy and protective. 

He hates the idea of you hunting, but he’d rather you be safe. 

Its going to be a constant mental battle with him. In the end, educating you is the best option.

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 2/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader  Summary:  after receiving an invitation to a ball in os alta, you have no intention of attending. however your father has other plans Warnings: none Word count:  1.6K A/N: part two of the mini nikolai series! enjoy reading :) PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha add yourself to my tag lists here 

You wake up to the sound of your father pounding on the door. You don’t even have to get up to check if you’re right, the servants would never knock so loudly. Especially not this early in the morning. Did you forget something? An important date? Was today a birthday or anniversary?

While you’re still wondering if you’ve missed something, your father barges through the door, completely ignoring your privacy. He’s beaming at you, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen him this pleased about anything.

He doesn’t even wait for you to acknowledge him. Instead, he pulls out an envelope similar to the one you received yesterday night. You look at the double eagle seal on the back of it, and force yourself not to roll your eyes.

‘We’re going to Os Alta!’ announces your father. ‘You have been personally invited by King Nikolai to attend a ball!’

‘I’m not going.’ you say as you lay back down. ‘I got a letter yesterday, and I already made your choice.’

‘Nonsense!’ he says. ‘This is too good an opportunity to miss. Now get up, we leave within the hour.’

Just as you open your mind to protest, three servants enter your room, carrying an elaborate new dress. Before you can say anything else, your father has left the room and the servants start to dress you and do your hair. 

Barely half an hour after you were rudely woken up by your father, you are out the door and on your way to Ravka.

You’re silent as you follow your father on his way to the docks. You had tried to convince the servants to let you wear a pair of pants instead of your heavy dress, but they told you your father wanted you to look your best when you left for Ravka. 

So now you’re trying not to trip on your dress as you miserably follow your father. Maybe you could jump off the ship and swim back to Ketterdam. But you fear your heavy dress might sink you to the bottom of the sea before you could make it back. 

As you get closer to the docks, you see two other merchant’s daughters who had received an invitation as well, and are happily chatting away. They seem very happy about it, which only causes you to get more annoyed. To top it all off, they don’t even spare you a glance as they walk past you.

When you get to the docks, you see a small crows has assembled to see you off. News travelled fast in Ketterdam, especially the news of three merchant daughters who were invited by the king of Ravka. You wished the docks were empty. All this attention was not something you wanted. 

You look at the crowd as you board the ship. Among them, you spot a few of the crows. They wink at you and all have smug looks on their faces. Apparently, they thought you changed your mind.

But you shrug and lightly shake your head after pointing at your father, indicating you didn’t have a choice. You wave at them as the ship sails away. Unlike the others who are looking out at sea, you keep looking at Ketterdam until it disappears from the horizon. You barely left, and you couldn’t wait to go back already.

The trip to Ravka takes a couple of days, and when you finally get off the ship, you travel for another few days by carriage before you finally make it to Os Alta. The others are looking out the window of the carriage, pointing at everything they see. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to get excited or curious. Os Alta looked like any city in your eyes. All you wanted to do, was to go home to Ketterdam. The last thing you needed was to attend a ball. It all seemed so ridiculous. A waste of time and money.

But when you’re dreading something, time seems to go faster, instead of slowing down. The day of the ball creeps closer and way too soon, servants enter the room you’re staying in to help you get dressed.

All day long, you had been thinking of ways you could get out of the ball. You had tried leaving the Palace grounds, but if you wanted to do so, you’d need to be accompanied by a handful of armed guards. You could fight, but not fight off five tall guards with arms. 

Climbing over the fence was not an option either. They were too tall, and you couldn’t find a spot where no one could see you.

Even if you did find a way to sneak out of the grounds, you’d still have to deal with your father. Even though you were far away from Ketterdam, he still followed you around like a shadow. Probably because you had made it very clear you didn’t even want to be there. 

You even tried to pretend to be sick. But your father had called for a healer, who told you that you were in perfect health. You tried to pretend you fell down the stairs and couldn’t possibly dance all night long. But again, your father had called for a healer who confirmed your good health.

So, you had no choice but to attend the ball. No matter how much you dreaded it, there would be no escaping it. 

When you’ve finished dressing, you feel like you might fall over because of the weight of the jewels. Apparently they thought it would be best to look like a shiny insect. Or maybe they just thought the weight of the jewels would prevent you from running away. 

Your hair is put up with more jewels, and they had yet again refused to let you wear pants. Instead, you wear a simple but elegant silk gown. They wanted you to wear heels as well, but you had told them if they wouldn’t let you wear pants, the least they could do is have you pick your own shoes. You were pretty sure if you had to walk on heels all night long, your feet would be numb by the end of the night.

Your father had put on his best suit and is beaming with pride as you make your way to the ball room. He introduces you to anyone he walks into, keeping a firm grip on your hand on his arm, so you couldn’t slip away. Your cheeks already hurt from smiling so much. 

You were told at the beginning of the ball, everyone would be introduced to the king, and the ball would start. Everyone else was excited to meet him, but you couldn’t care less. Your father had done his best at controlling you his entire life. And now, if he had it his way again, he’d marry you off to some royal you had never met.

Sure, you heard the stories. According to them, Nikolai was a war hero, charming, handsome. The boy king loved by his people. You didn’t care for stories. You wanted to go home, back to Ketterdam. Have a drink with the Crows, laugh at their jokes, play cards. 

No matter how much you loathe the palace, your jaw still drops when you enter the massive ball room. It’s elaborately decorated and you have to admit, it’s gorgeous. You didn’t see a lot of this in Ketterdam. Still, you’d rather be in the Crow Club where the floor always seems to be sticky. And you keep looking around you, still trying to find a way out.

You’re waiting for everyone else to arrive and soon, the people around you start to move as everyone starts to introduce themselves to the king. And that’s when you see it. A door to a balcony, slightly open. You take a look at the people around you. 

All of their eyes seem fixed on the king, your father as well. He’s got a weird sort of smile on his face as he looks at the king in the distance. It’s like he totally forgot you were there. It’s now or never. You hang back a little and slip between the people, making for the balcony door.

You open it and quietly slip onto the balcony. The cool air outside feels more welcoming than anything else you’ve encountered on your trip to the palace. It’s not a big balcony, and you’re still visible from inside the ball room.

But the ground is not that far, you notice as you look over the edge of the balcony. You’ve once jumped from a windowsill about the same height as the balcony, when you were on a job with Jesper. You take another look over your shoulder. Your father hadn’t even noticed your absence. 

You take a deep breath and swing your legs over the balcony. Another deep breath, and you take the leap.

You had been right, it wasn’t that far. Still, you land rather clumsily. You’re not used to wearing silk dresses, and curse softly as you try to get up without tripping on it. Once you’re standing, you look up at the balcony, then ahead. In the distance, you see the palace gardens. They look beautiful in the dim light of the setting sun.

Smiling to yourself, you start walking towards them. 

Meanwhile up in the ballroom, your father had reached the king. He’s hopelessly looking around him. All eyes are on him.

‘I swear she was right here, she must have slipped away. She was right here, I’m telling you!’ he says.

Most of the guests are sending him disapproving looks, but king Nikolai is the only one who looks amused.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[the-iceni-bitch]

I’m Going to Take Care of You

Pairing: Thor/Fem-Reader

Words: 3502

Summary: A fun night out with the Avengers makes you realize you want something more from you friendship with Thor.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, size kink adjacent, fluff, SMUT, 18+

A/N: Whoo, I managed to keep it under 4000 words this time y’all. I loved writing Thor though. He’s such a sweetheart and really treats our reader right! Please enjoy and message if you want to be added to my permanent tags list!

“I got shots, bitches!!”

You set your carefully balanced tray on the table in the middle of everyone and started distributing tiny glasses around, grinning around the table as you did so.

“Goddamn it, Y/N. You and Nat are trying to kill us” Clint groaned as he took his shot from you and looked at it like he was about to throw up.

“Suck it up Barton.” Tony scolded. “These girls are out drinking us and refuse to black out before they do. Knock it back.”

You made sure everyone got a glass before taking one for yourself and settling back on the couch.

Nat downed hers easily and gave you a knowing grin once the taste hit her tongue. Clint, Tony, and Sam tossed theirs back together and immediately started spluttering and coughing. Steve paused before bringing his glass to his lips when he saw their reaction.

“Son of a bitch, what the fuck is this?” Tony exclaimed, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it as Clint headed to the bathroom, looking like he was going to hurl. Nat clapped her hand against Sam’s back as he tried to get a hold of himself. Steve was just looking at his shot with abject horror.

“We’re in Oslo so I got us Aquavit!” You grinned at Tony as he stared at you murderously. “Oh, my god Rogers, suck it up and drink it, it’s not going to kill you.”

Steve gave a shrug and chugged it, sucking air through his teeth and wincing as he swallowed. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Y/N, you’re the only one who can drink that shit.” Nat laughed at you as Sam waved her off, his coughing fit finally ending.

“You’re all just pussies. Where the fuck is Thor? He always appreciates new liquor.” You searched the club for that giant golden retriever of a man before you heard his deep voice behind you.

“Is that more liquor? Excellent!” he exclaimed as you turned yourself around to give him a grin and handed him the last shot. He threw it back without hesitation and gave an appreciative nod. “What is this delicious nectar? We should get a bottle.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You said, giving the rest of the group an exasperated look as you headed over to the bar, and returned with a full bottle of the spicy liquor and two clean highball glasses. You poured yourself and Thor two hefty portions and sat beside him on the couch.

“You two are insane.” Tony said, shaking his head as you tossed your drinks back and poured two more. “How are you still standing, Y/N? You’ve had almost as much to drink as a literal god!”

You just laughed at him giddily. You were pretty drunk at this point, but there was no way you were going to let anyone outdrink you tonight, you wanted to let go.

You had just finished your fifth mission with the Avengers. You had been apprehensive when you first moved onto the compound six months ago. You of course already know Nat and Clint, but it was a tight knit group, and you sometimes felt like a spare tire.

You spent most of the first few weeks in the lab, working on your serums and formulas, doing calculations into the small hours of the morning. Tony did his best to engage you, but you both only had the most basic understandings of each other’s fields. You did develop a healthy respect for each other during that time though, and you started to feel more at home.

Nat had finally convinced you to join the rest of the team for a workout after you had been there for a month. You were concerned about losing yourself and accidentally injuring someone, but Nat almost shoved you onto the mat to square up against Steve. She sat there with a smirk as the group watched him chase you around the mat, growing more and more frustrated as you slid out of his reach over and over. When you accidentally threw him into the ceiling one handed, you were sure they were going to shut you out. But Thor started laughing hysterically as the rest of them started teasing Rogers, and just like that, you were one of the group.

Thor and you bonded the most for some reason. You made each other laugh constantly, and being able to complain about your crazy families with someone else was a relief. You’d often stay up late together watching stupid movies or drinking some new liquor or beer you had discovered. He had once mentioned that he missed the tasted of mead, and the next day you surprised him with several large bottles you had gotten from a friend who brewed it on his property upstate. Sometimes when you got drunk enough, he’d let you braid his hair in intricate styles, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment when Tony would give him shit the next morning.

You became sparring partners as he was the only member of the team who could actually get you in a hold, and that translated well to you partnering on missions.

This latest one had been a doozy, busting an arms dealing ring that was suspected of distributing old HYDRA equipment. It was a success overall but had been exhausting. Nat and you always did your best to come up with some sort of morale booster after a mission and you somehow had convinced the team that a night of clubbing in downtown Oslo would be just the thing.

“Aww shit, is this Ghostface Killah?” You asked the room as a new song started. “This is my song! Let’s dance!”

“Girl, you have the best taste in music.” Sam said as he followed you onto the dance floor while Nat tried to coax Steve and Tony to join you. Thor tossed back his drink and strode after you.

The Norse God was a surprisingly good dancer. He didn’t seem to have the hangups you noticed from most white guys about their movements.

“This is a good song!” He shouted at you over the music “It reminds me of ‘Krakemal’.”

You had no idea what he was talking about so you just grinned at him as you whipped your hair around and swung your hips, losing yourself in the music. You loved dancing.

The song ended too soon and Tony came to let everyone know that Clint had finally stopped vomiting and the group was going to head back to the safehouse. Thor threw you over his shoulder as you headed out the door, making you squeal as he gave your ass a playful slap, not putting you down until you were walking down the street. He grinned down at you and started telling you a story about a snake. You were staring at him, breathless and giddy from the alcohol and you laughed when his story reached its conclusion, suddenly realizing that you were going to sleep with him.

He walked forward to chat with Steve and Nat put her arm through yours to chat.

“Sooooo…” she said slyly. “What’s going on with you and Point Break?”

“Oh god, Nat. I’m pretty sure I’m going to let him fuck me tonight.”

She laughed at that, tossing her head back. “Jesus Christ, it’s about time!”

You slapped her arm lightly and told her to shut up.

“You couldn’t have come to this realization a little earlier, Y/N? Now Tony’s going to win the bet!”

“Fuck, you perverts bet on when me and Thor would sleep together? Was anyone else in on this?”

“I mean, it was just me and Clint to start off then Tony found out and looped in the rest of team into it. He made a spreadsheet and everything. Rogers took some serious convincing. That big puppy thought it was ‘inappropriate and mean-spirited.’ Of course, then he walked in on one of your sparring sessions where you let yourself get pinned by that himbo a little longer than necessary and turned over his money with no problem.”

“Great. You guys are such good friends.” You said sarcastically.

“Not our fault you two idiots don’t have the emotional intelligence to just get to it. I’ve gotta tell the rest of the team to make sure you guys have some privacy.”

You hissed and tried to grab her as she scampered away to talk to Tony, who turned back and gave you a thumbs up and massive grin. You slapped your palm into your face and rubbed your thumb and forefinger into the ridges above your eyebrows.

“So, Natasha told me I should come back here and talk to you. She wouldn’t tell me what about and just laughed when I asked.” Thor had a look of slight confusion on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, pulling the bottom edge of his shirt up enough to expose the top of his boxer briefs and give you a glimpse at his happy trail. You felt yourself clench and fought the urge to moan.

You arrived back at the safehouse then, and Tony and Natasha did their best to usher everyone upstairs discreetly. She gave you a wink as she followed behind Steve at the back of the group and disappeared from view.

“So, more drinks?” Thor clapped his hands and rubbed them together, heading into the kitchen as he shed his coat.

“God, yes!” You followed him, removing your own coat and tossing it onto the couch. You had no idea how to approach this without making things painfully awkward.

He found an opened bottle of mead and poured you each a glass, leaning back against the counter as he sipped at the sweet liquor.

You peered at him over the edge of your glass as you contemplated your next move. His plain white tee was just tight enough that you could see the shape of the muscles in his torso. His arms were crossed, making his thick arms flex deliciously. You wanted to take a bite out of his bicep. You moved your eyes back up to his face and found him staring back at you. Neither of you said anything as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Fuck it.” You said, tossing back the rest of your drink and setting the empty glass on the counter before you took three steps forward and pressed the front of you body into him, pulling his face down to yours and kissing him hungrily.

You felt his posture change as he set his own glass behind him before grabbing your hips and drawing you even closer to him. You felt his cock starting to harden through his jeans and you let out a moan. He growled softly into your mouth before bringing one hand up to the back of your neck and drawing you away from him briefly as he studied your face.

“How drunk are you, Y/N?” he asked, a look of concern on his face.

Your inebriation had faded on the walk home and that kiss had sobered you up considerably. “Just buzzed.” You told him, breathlessly.

“Good.”

He didn’t say anything else, just put a hand on your ass and lifted you to wrap your legs around him as kissed your neck, scraping his teeth along your collarbone.

“God, keep doing that.” You said, twisting your hands into the back of his tee as he dipped his tongue into the hollow of your throat.

He gave a low hum against your neck and you felt it resound in your core, a rush of arousal soaking your panties as you felt your cunt throb with desire.

“Not gonna make it to the couch.” He whispered into your neck, sucking softly and raising a small bruise.

“Fine.” You couldn’t focus on anything, his mouth was so good and felt like it was leaving a trail of fire wherever it met your skin.

He moved forward and lowered you onto the counter gently. He brought his mouth back up to yours and kissed you softly as he moved his hands from your hips to the buttons of your blouse. He started undoing them slowly, his thick fingers moving nimbly down the front of your torso. Once it was fully open, he slid the blouse down your shoulders and discarded it to the side.

He brought his large palms up to your breasts and kneaded them gently. You groaned into his mouth and drew him closer to you with your legs, forcing the hem of your skirt up around your waist. You ground yourself into the front of his jeans desperately.

His fingers found the clasp at the front of your bra and unhooked it as he brought his mouth down to your breasts. He pressed the flat of his tongue against one nipple before swirling his tongue around it and sucking on it softly, making you gasp.

“Fuck, just like that baby.” You scrabbled your fingers over his back as he mouthed at your breast and drew his shirt over his head. He broke his contact with your skin for just a moment to throw the tee somewhere else, then moved his attention to your other breast, laving his tongue over the nipple slowly and making your pussy clench so hard it was aching.

“Shit, Thor, I need you.” You whined at him, clenching your thighs around his hips, trying to get some sort of friction to relieve the tension you were feeling in your core.

“I need to make sure you’re ready for me, beautiful. Don’t you trust me?”

“Mmmmm, yes!” you gasped as one of his hands moved your panties aside and he brushed his fingers against your folds, making you twitch.

“Oh, good girl. I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart.” He swirled one finger through the arousal at your entrance before inserting it at a deliciously slow pace.

You clenched around him immediately, letting out a whimper as he started moving it in and out of you slowly, stretching you from the inside a little further each time before adding another finger.

Your breath hitched and you tried to buck your hips into him but his other hand moved to press against your abdomen, pinning you to the counter.

His face came back up to yours as his fingers flexed inside of you. He brushed a soft kiss against your lips as you swallowed a moan.

“I know pretty girl, but you’re going to be happy I’m taking my time in a few minutes.” His third finger slipped into you as he gave you another kiss before he moved his face between your legs.

You did your best to keep from screaming when his tongue found your clit and started drawing soft circles over the tiny bundle of nerves. He curved his fingers inside you and pressed them against your sweet spot before he stretched you even further by adding a fourth finger.

You bit your lip so hard you drew blood. His tongue had increased in pressure and speed while his fingers stretched you so good. When he started sucking you lost it. You let out a thin wail as your body went rigid with pleasure, releasing to make every muscle tremble. He kept his fingers fucking into you at a steady rhythm as you rode it out. He removed them once you had finished and you let out a groan at the feeling of emptiness.

He smiled up at you before giving your pussy a kiss and standing up, releasing his hold on your abdomen. “I think you’re ready now gorgeous.” He murmured around a grin.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him as he drew your soaked panties down your legs and threw them to the side with the rest of your clothes. He then unzipped your skirt and added it to the pile before he moved his fingers to the fly of his jeans.

You felt your pussy clench as he drew the zipper down slowly and you stared at him through your lashes darkly. He bent over briefly to remove his pants and underwear and when he stood up, all the air rushed out of you as you understood his insistence on preparation.

He had the biggest cock you had ever seen. It was almost as thick as your wrist and quite a bit longer than the span of your hand. Your mouth filled with saliva as he gave it a few pumps and stepped closer to you, dragging it through your slick folds to coat it in your arousal.

“I’m going to go slow, love. You promise to let me know if it’s too much?”

You bit your lip as you nodded at him, not trusting the integrity of your vocal cords at the moment.

He bent forward over you and gave you a gentle kiss as he breached you with just his tip and you let out a sigh. He drew his hips back slowly before moving into you a little further. He continued this slow pace, pulling out just a bit and before breaching you further, waiting to feel you stretch and relax around him before he pushed into you more.

It seemed like forever before his hips were flush against yours and you were stretched around the whole length of him. You had never felt so deliciously full and you let out a low moan to let him know how good you felt.

“You’re doing so good baby.” He whispered to you and you couldn’t help giving him a wide grin that he returned. “I’m going to move, now, ok?”

“Fuck, yes please.” You whimpered as his hips started to move.

He kept his mouth on yours as he picked up the pace, exploring every inch of your mouth with his tongue.  You tangled your hands into his hair and snapped your hips to meet his thrusts, the only sounds your soft moans, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the obscene wet sucking sounds your pussy was making as his cock thrust in and out of you.

You felt your pleasure starting to coil in your core and you cried softly into his mouth, urging him on as he moved one hand between the two of you to work your clit.

You came around him suddenly, every muscle in your body vibrating as the biggest orgasm you’d ever had ripped through you body. You had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming, and he growled into your ear as his paced picked up even more.

He drew your knees up to your shoulders as he kept thrusting into you. The change in position was too much for your overworked clit and you came again immediately, tears leaking down your cheeks as you tried your best to be quiet.

He saw the tears and started to slow down, a look of concern written all over his face, until you hissed at him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

He gave you a grunt that may have been a laugh and rotated your legs to your right side, the twist in your spine arching you so your chest pressed up into his, the coarse hair dusting him rubbing against your sensitive nipples and making you whine.

You felt yourself building again and you dropped your head back against the counter, preparing yourself. Thor’s hips started to stutter as your final orgasm wracked you, and he released right behind you as you twitched and fluttered around him. He bent back down to kiss you, his long hair brushing against your chest.

You opened up to him and let his tongue run against yours gently as he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you with a soft ache between your legs.

“How you feeling sweetheart?” He asked you, one hand cupped against your cheek as he watched your face, wanting to be sure he hadn’t hurt you.

“God, that was amazing.” You grinned at him, groaning as you stretched underneath him, knowing you were going to be stiff and sore tomorrow.

He gave you a swift kiss before scooping you off the counter and wrapping you around his torso. You nuzzled yourself into his neck as he started to carry you upstairs.

“Let’s get you a bath, beautiful. Make sure you’ll be able to walk in the morning.”

You laughed softly against his skin. “Mmmm, baby you know just what I need.”

“Of course I do, Y/N.” He looked into your eyes, a serious expression on his face. “I’m going to take care of you.”

You couldn’t express how happy that made you so you just hummed against his shoulder as he kicked open the door to the bathroom. You didn’t even care that you had left your discarded clothes downstairs for poor Steve to find when he woke up for his morning run.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[fairestwriting]

slams open your door/ one angst request for a childhood g/n reader with deuce, ace, jack, ruggie and vil coming right up! "if we're still single by 30, let's get married! (for housing benefits lol)" it was a childish promise made in jest, but the boy never forgot. in the end, it ends with unrequited/pining feelings from one/both sides that cant be returned due to bad timing/prior engagements/etc when they reach of age (go hogwild with the scenarios lis!!)

(slams my hands on the table) yes yes yes yes YES i love this trope

+ if you like my writing, you can buy me a ko-fi to support me!

Deuce Spade

You make the promise to him after you confessed to your crush sometime in 7th grade and got rejected, left to cry by yourself behind the school. Out of all your friends, only Deuce came to comfort you -- And so you, in your dramatic childish glory, feeling like you’d never find anyone to love, tell him the two of you should get married if you’re single by 30.

Deuce remembers every detail of that event down to how your eyes gleamed with the tears, how the light of the sunset casted that golden glow on your hair -- It was when he knew he loved you. It took him a while to find the right words to describe the feeling, but he’d been feeling it for a long time.

He doesn’t pursue you because he feels like he’ll grow out of it. You go to NRC together, the two of you against the world, and it’s like everyday he falls in love a little more. You support him through his attempts of being a honors student, and on the day of your graduation, the first thing you do is hug each other tight, cheering about how you made it, you finally made it.

You don’t lose contact with each other even after school. Deuce and you are basically attached to the hip, meeting up every other week to talk about college and then your jobs. Through all of this time you’re friends, both of you go through a handful of relationships each, but none of them are really serious. As you approach 30, Deuce remembers that promise from back then.

When your birthday comes up, you’re sort of gloomy over recent breakup, and Deuce, naturally, is the first one to be there for you. He shows up in the morning with a gift and makes you breakfast, your dear best friend warming your heart once more. You rant about your latest partner and exchange anecdotes about how last week went before everything goes silent, and suddenly his hand is hesitantly on yours.

“D-Do you remember, um.” He begins, face flushed. “That promise we made in middle school? That if we were single until 30...”

You blink. Really, that? It felt like so long ago -- It was hard to remember even. You can barely catch what he was going to try to say before you laugh your middle school self off, snickering at how naive you were -- Something in Deuce seems to shatter, then, and his hand retracts. It’s so fast you can barely tell what’s happening.

And he stays with you through the birthday regardless, of course he does. He’s your dearest friend, isn’t he?

the rest is under the cut cause... its long

Ace Trappola

You hated Ace, initially. You met in kindergarten and he was the worst, literally. Always pulling pranks on everyone and acting just so infuriatingly cheeky, your 5 year old self learned real rage through that little redhead boy who always hid your things just to get a rise out of you.

One day you decided to prank him back, causing massive trouble in the classroom that ends with the two of you getting intensely scolded, and that’s how, somehow, a beautiful friendship blooms. Ace gets this sparkle in his eyes when you’re done getting yelled at, and says that the two of you should be friends and work together on doing this to other people.

Since then you two became inseparable. You’d never stop bickering, but you also never left each other’s side. The two of you were a menace, an absolute terror to your teachers -- Whether you were a good kid before meeting him or not didn’t matter, Ace is great at being a bad influence.

Near the end of 4th grade, you begin hearing about how one of your classmate’s single parent was getting married again. This sparked a big conversation between your class, somehow, with everyone declaring who they wanted to marry. It was a silly childish thing. When your turn comes, you proudly announce that when you grew up, you’d marry Ace if you hadn’t married anyone else by 30, ‘cause no one else would choose him but me! You snicker after making the comment, amused at how mean you were being, but somehow your snarkiness seems to fly over Ace’s head.

It’s a thing that happens that you two never really talk about again, but it ticks in the back of his mind for his whole life as you two grow up. Even entering middle and then high school, he always remembers it when he goes through some sort of romantic disappointment. You really were the only one who always stuck around, after all...

Years go by and somehow you’re still by each other’s side. Every birthday that passes Ace thinks about it a little more, he wonders if that promise from ages ago was true. When your 30th birthday comes up the promise is constantly in his mind, he’s driving himself up the wall with expectation. And he doesn’t even know why he’s feeling like that, really, you two are just childhood friends, right? There’s no reason for him to be feeling so... like this.

Eventually, he just blurts it out, a couple days after said birthday. You two are probably just hanging out and ranting about work when he goes “Hey, you remember that stuff you said in 4th grade? About, uh, us getting married?” And you go silent for a beat. His heart races as he wonders what the hell he’s doing, even.

But you laugh it all off. What, that stuff about marrying you? Yeah, I was such a dumb kid. I was right, though, look how you’re still single, you joke, and it feels like a punch to the gut to Ace. He laughs awkwardly with you. Yeah, sure, how foolish the two of your were for thinking of something like... you two... being together like that...

Jack Howl

Jack was, before everything, the scary boy in your 2nd grade class. Beastmen weren’t exactly common at school, especially wolves like him, so he ended up sticking out quite a lot. Most kids, your friends included, thought he was far too scary to approach. And Jack himself seemed to be fine with that, not really interacting much with anyone.

That was all he was for you until, one day, an older kid gets mad at you during lunch for bumping into them and staining their shirt with juice. They’re about two or three years ahead and so much taller than you, you’re genuinely scared -- And who would know that in a moment like this, the one kid in your class you weren’t very fond of would stand up for you, convincing the bully to go away.

Afterwards, Jack asks if you’re okay, you two end up eating together, and the rest is history. You find out he was actually really sweet, despite seeming so tough, and you get comfortable with it. Jack was always a reliable, loyal friend, someone you knew you could count on.

This included when your friends started being weirded out by you for getting close to the scary boy in class. They get it in their heads that you have a crush on him and tease you for it, which makes you upset, but Jack stands up for you again. This was enough for you to be pretty starry eyed at the age of 7, so you declared that, hey, who cares about what these mean kids are saying! Maybe you and Jack should be together anyway. Actually, if you two got to 30 and you were still single, you should get married! Jack gets just as starry eyed as you, and you seal a pinky promise that day.

What you never knew, though, was that he wouldn’t grow out of it -- Because as time goes by and you two grow up alongside each other, it ends up slipping your mind. You meet new people and learn new things, getting into some relationships here and there, and though you’d taken the promise seriously for a bit when you were a kid, it was just something you laughed about now.

You don’t even remember it on Jack’s 30th birthday. You’re one of the first people to show up to the small gathering, naturally, you had known each other since forever. You’re teasing him about how he was so perpetually single even now, that you were reaching “marriage age”, and this seems to fluster him a bit.

“Well...” He starts, his ears going slightly limp. “I wanted... to keep that promise, you know. From when we were kids.” His voice is quiet, uncertain. It’s different from how you usually hear him talk, and you have no idea what he’s talking about. You question him about it, and he’s wide eyed when he realizes that you actually forgot.

He questions you about it. How could you forget? You two actually made a pinky promise about it -- But you’re just confused as to why he’s bringing this up, saying that of course it wasn’t a big deal, you two were just kids when it happened! Was he really expecting something from that? And when you ask him that, he’s silent.

Needless to say, the birthday is soured. Jack asks for you to leave, it’s a mess. You don’t know what you did wrong, exactly, just like you’re not sure how you could possibly fix this.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Partners in crime” was the only possible way to describe what sort of relationship you had with Ruggie. It starts in elementary school, you’re walking around in a farmer’s market near the slums and you catch him taking a handful of apples from a stand, without paying. Your eyes are wide as you remember who that boy was, a classmate of yours, and despite what your family had taught you about stealing, you walk up to the person taking care of the stand, and start chatting with them to distract them.

You’re not sure what really made you want to help this boy you barely knew, but it turned out to be the one thing in your life you’re the most grateful for, because the next day, when he sees you again in class, he runs up to you to thank you so many times in a row. And since then, you two started spending time together.

And you got along so well! Ruggie got along with most of the other kids and you had some friends of your own, but nothing was compared to how close the two of you were. You two scheme your way in and out of trouble through your school days, and at one point you can barely imagine your life without him.

Sometime mid 6th grade, your classmates start talking of crushes and dating and such, which gives you a lot to think about. You’re a bit upset that you seem to be the only one who isn’t in on the new fun, so one day, when you’re hanging out with Ruggie, you complain about feeling like you’d be single forever. Ruggie laughs and says that if no one wanted to be with you, then no one would want to be with him either. You still wonder what that meant.

In a fit of childishness, you say decisively that if you two were single until you were 30, you’d get married. Looking back on it, you can’t tell if you were kidding or not, but Ruggie and you shake hands mid-laughs, like you’re sealing a deal.

So time goes by. You don’t think too hard about that promise and Ruggie... doesn’t seem to, either, you actually wonder what’s going through his head often, because he rarely tells you what he’s thinking. You end up going to NRC together, to both of your families’ joy, and that just ends up making you closer, as two kids from the less-privileged side of the Afterglow Savannah in such a prestigious academy...

Your bond ends up really fire-forged after those four years, so it’s no surprise to anyone that you’d still be close even after you graduate, even as adults. Nothing could break a friendship like this.

You think about it on the day of your 30th birthday, when you’re out for drinks with Ruggie to celebrate. Really, how the hell did you stick to each other’s side for so long? You ask him as you loop an arm around his neck, and he grins. “Well, maybe we should get married like you promised then, y’know... when we were brats.” He says, a little quieter than your previous conversation. There’s a hint of some kind of different feeling there that you don’t catch at the time, scoffing at him and going, yeah, in your dreams.

The rest of the night goes normally, though you don’t hear from him for a couple days afterward... and when you do, he barely looks you in the eye. You wonder if anything bad happened, if you did anything wrong.

Vil Schoenheit

When Vil Schoenheit moved into your town, everybody was talking about him before he even really set foot into the classroom. Everyone had seen him somewhere -- The poster boy of villainy in all your favorite movies, a kid with a pretty face and a haughty aura.

You’re as curious as everyone else to meet him, though you don’t really share that strange vindictiveness the other kids seemed to have, angered at Vil himself for what his characters put others through. It’s so stupid, you thought, isn’t he just the actor? He might actually be nice.

When he arrives into the classroom, people are about as annoying towards him as you expected. Their disdain towards Vil bothered you, he’d barely said anything to others and yet they were already pegging him as a mean, arrogant person. So stupid, you repeat to yourself, and you decide to talk to him normally, and that’s how your ages-long friendship came to life.

Vil wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met. You come to find that he’s rather haughty, yes, and very strict with pretty much everything, but he was also very kind deep down, and willing to help you with anything you needed. He was a good friend. He was also, as you came to find out as you grew a little more, astoundingly pretty. With people disliking his “villainy” or not, by the time you’re starting middle school, he already consistently gets confessed to.

You’re a bit jealous. Not because you wanted Vil for yourself, no, he was just a good friend, but you wished people would find you as attractive as they found him, sometimes. You express that to him when you’re walking home together one day, and he laughs it off, saying it wasn’t as good as you thought it’d be. Still, you make him promise that if you were single by 30, he’d have to marry you, because if he just let you die alone, he’d be a bad friend. Vil seems strangely mesmerized by that, but he agrees.

Time goes by, you get to watch each other grow. Even with all the people going in and out of Vil’s life, he seems to keep you closer to his heart than everyone, and you never really lose contact with each other. Even when he’s busy, with movies or modeling or school, he still makes time to check up on you, and you see each other often.

When you’re actually nearing 30, Vil has reached a sort of stardom that burned your eyes just looking at, and you were so goddamn proud of him it was real. Somehow, he still makes time to show up for your birthday, after about a month of not really seeing each other -- And he spoils you to death on that day, the two of you spending all of it together and talking until it was late at night.

As the sun is about to rise, though, Vil’s chattiness subsides. About as sleep deprived as you, he says, softly “So since we’ve gotten there, and we’re both still single... maybe we should fulfill that promise from years ago, shouldn’t we?” You take a moment to process it, it’s tough remembering exactly when you made such a promise, but eventually you do. You feel like that should’ve been a joke, but the way Vil looks at you isn’t saying joke at all.

You sort of laugh it off either way, though. What, that silly promise? You ask, are you rubbing it in that you’re prettier than me? I can still find a partner looking like this, y’know. You think it’s funny, but Vil suddenly falls completely silent.

He then sighs, almost wistful, and says “Sure you can” before the conversation progresses... you’re not sure what happened, but life goes on after that like nothing happened. Deep down, Vil is feeling stupid for having taken the promise to heart, like he should have known better... but if you never really meant it, then what could he do but give it up? Even though it was the thing he wanted to do the least... he valued your friendship too much to do something that could possibly ruin it.

[hartigays]

I’m laughing thinking about Ward going through the 5 stages of grief after learning Rafe has a boyfriend

ward cameron when rafe tells him he’s a raging homosexual:

fic under the cut!!

the dinner table is silent, save for the noises of forks and knives clinking against porcelain.

rafe stares down at his steak, mouth watering but refusing to eat it. he has plans later, after all, and steak is not kind to his bowels, despite how delicious it may be going down.

his bowels do not need to be in a twist for what’s in store for him later.

barry would probably murder him in the front yard of his trailer - it has been a week since they’ve been able to see each other, after all. and as barry had so eloquently put it on the phone earlier, rafe needs to be prepared to be “taken down to pound town, back around, and down again”.

not like anyone at the table needs to know this, but rafe imagines he’ll get questions soon enough about his lack of enthusiasm towards his meal.

almost as if she could read his mind, rose fixes rafe with a calculating look and asks, “rafe, why aren’t you eating? that’s a perfectly good steak, i don’t want it going to waste.”

going to waste, rafe thinks with an internal snort. everything in this house goes to waste - it’s just part of living on figure eight. everything is disposable, everything is replaceable.

“rafe, eat your steak,” ward insists with a sigh, not looking up from his plate. “i’m not in the mood tonight.”

in the mood for what, rafe has no idea. ward is acting like rafe is a fussy 4-year-old who he has to constantly battle with to eat his peas, when in reality ward couldn’t give less of a shit about what rafe does or says or eats on a daily basis, so long as it’s not making the family look bad.

the thought alone has rafe gritting his teeth, glaring across the table at his sorry excuse for a father.

“i’m not hungry,” rafe lies, folding his arms across his chest.

ward sighs again, like this 2-second conversation has pained him greatly, still not looking up. “i’m not arguing with you, rafe. eat the damn steak or leave the table. no one is in the mood for your sulking.”

rafe makes a face, then rolls his eyes. “i’m not sulking. but whatever, i have to be somewhere anyway.”

he scoots his chair back, ignoring sarah eyeing him warily from the seat adjacent to his.

“be somewhere? it’s almost nine,” rose questions. she raises her brows at rafe expectantly.

rose is looking at him like the stern stepmother she pretends to be, acting like she actually gives a shit where rafe is going, when the question was really only asked to ensure that whatever rafe is doing, it won’t reflect poorly on everyone else.

never mind that rafe is nearly 20 years old and can go wherever he pleases. he’s also gotten sick of this notion that every move he makes will somehow make them all look bad and tear the family apart. despite the fact that sarah is the one who’s openly dating a pogue, one who’s basically a walking red flag.

barry may live on the cut, but at least he doesn’t brand himself the king of pogueland.

rafe narrows his eyes at rose before making a split-second decision.

“well, my boyfriend gets off work late, so yeah. i have somewhere to be at nine,” rafe says offhandedly, like it’s no big deal, like everyone already knew he was a massive fruit who’s been on his knees for his local coke dealer for the past six months.

the sounds of silverware clattering onto plates fills the room, and rafe feels ridiculously satisfied with himself for getting a reaction. he loves to see these idiots squirm.

he’d rather see them all choke on rat poison, but barry is insistent that he won’t continue fucking rafe if he goes off and kills his whole family.

barry is lucky rafe loves him, because honestly, not being allowed to murder people who irritate him is kind of a buzzkill.

“you- who- your what?” ward sputters, the first to break the heavy silence.

“my boyfriend,” rafe repeats slowly, enunciating, treating ward like he’s the stupid, petulant child he constantly claims rafe is.

rafe watches ward’s face go from pale, to pink, to violently red. there’s a set to his jaw and rafe just knows ward would give anything to leap across the table and wring rafe’s neck right this very moment.

“no, nope, absolutely not,” ward snaps, furious in his denial. “not my son. no.”

“ward- ” rose starts, but ward cuts her off with a swift wave of his hand.

“do you realize how this will look for us if anyone finds out?” ward spits, holding his fork in a white-knuckle grip.

sarah actually speaks up on rafe’s behalf, which is probably the most shocking reaction rafe has gotten so far.

“dad, come on. it’s 2021,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head. “besides, rafe being gay is probably one of the only good things about him. or, wait, are you bi? or gay?”

sarah questions rafe casually, like this information doesn’t come as any kind of shock to her. rafe makes a mental note to revisit that later, along with her comment about it being one of his only good traits. she’s looking at him almost in earnest, and for a brief moment rafe is transported back to a time when he actually liked his sister.

“not that it’s any of your business,” rafe starts, glancing at her, “but i’m gay. thanks for asking. anyway, like i said, i have somewhere to be, so- ”

“not a big deal?” ward hisses, cutting him off, clearly still stuck on sarah’s surprising defense of rafe’s sexuality. “not a big deal? sarah, it’s- no, see? no. we aren’t talking about this.”

Despite his own declaration, Ward continues, “what about all those girls? all those girls you hung around with? the ones you brought around? you know you can still have them over from time to time. i know we talked about respect and responsibility, but i suppose a man does need to let loose every now and then, and if it’ll help- ”

this time, rafe is the one to cut ward off, not in the mood for his pathetic attempt at bargaining.

“dad. dad. i’m gay,” rafe says firmly. “forget about the girls. it wasn’t what you thought.”

ward opens and closes his mouth several times, trying to form some sort of coherent response. then, he buries his face in his hands, groaning.

“why is it always something with you, rafe?” ward mumbles through his hands, sounding defeated. “can we not just have one day? one day without your life overshadowing everything we’ve worked towards?”

rafe rolls his eyes at ward’s dramatics. “how does me liking dick ruin anything for this family?”

“rafe, wheezie is right here!” rose admonishes. wheezie just chokes on her water, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

“sorry, wheeze,” rafe tells her, feeling only a little bad. “but i’m just saying. half the guys on figure eight go both ways. it’s seriously not a big deal.”

ward finally looks up at rafe, crossing his arms before staring for a long stretch. long enough that rafe starts to turn to go, itching to get away and back to the one person who doesn’t make him want to rip his hair out.

“fine,” ward finally says just as rafe turns on his heel. “fine. but don’t- don’t expect me to meet him. or like him. and for the love of god, don’t bring him to important events. whoever he is, he’s bound to draw attention.”

that’s very, very true. and rafe has every intention of dragging barry to the next auction or gala or what the fuck ever, clad in one of his stupid sleeveless t-shirts and basketball shorts and his hair in a messy, tangled bun - the whole nine yards.

he’s dying to see the look on ward’s face when he shows up to some black-tie event with barry the cocaine king slash dirty mechanic slash army vet in tow.

“so is that it?” rafe asks, sounding bored even to his own ears. “can i go now?”

ward still looks like he wants to slam his head through the nearest window, but he nods. accepting the truth that rafe has forcibly laid out before him, albeit reluctantly.

rafe nods back, turning and walking away with his hands stuffed in his pockets, whistling a tune that’s far too cheerful given the looks on everyone’s faces as he exits the dining room.

his favorite is ward’s, still looking angry and defeated and resigned to his acceptance of rafe’s preferences all at once. rafe hops onto his motorbike, yanking on his helmet with a smile.

barry will be proud of him, he thinks. not only did he finally come out to his family, but he also didn’t feed them rat poison during the process.

baby steps. he’s taking them one at a time, very carefully, and he thinks that’s something at least.

maybe barry will reward him for his efforts, rafe wonders, just before revving his bike to life and speeding off the property.

rafe deserves a reward, in his own personal opinion. and after all, his opinion is the only one that matters, really.

maybe barry’s, too, but only when it suits rafe. if that happens to be more often than rafe would care to admit, well. that’s between him and Jesus.

the night air is cool as it whips around him, and rafe looks forward to the warmth of barry and his shitty little trailer, not sparing a single thought about the mess he just left in his wake.

rafe presses harder on the gas, heading towards home.

[fullmarvelheart]

Crossing Lines (6/?)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x fbi!mob!Reader

Word Count: 5,199 

Recommended: 18+ readers

Summary: A sudden and unsettling event rocks the underworld, and Y/N is immediately called in to prepare for what’s to come. What she isn’t prepared for is James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, also known as the new head of the Brooklyn mafia clan. When these two get shoved into a world of danger and deceit, will they ever learn to trust each other? Or will they be doomed from the start?

Warnings: Swearing, angst, a wee bit of fluff?, Grant Ward (because he’s his own warning), mentions of violence

A/N: Happy Black Widow Day! I’ve been waiting for this movie to come for so long and unfortunately I won’t be able to watch it tonight😢. But anyways, here’s part six with a surprise character😉 (literally didn’t think of adding her until yesterday). Hope you guys enjoy! This has not been beta read at all. All mistakes are my own. The GIF is not mine, so credit goes to the original creator!

Series Masterlist

“Skye, come on! Why the hell did you drive off to the middle of damn nowhere?”

“Just trust me.” She says calmly as she parks the car, completely ignoring my outburst in the process. “And stop complaining, Y/N/N. I know you had another fight with your dad, so I know you wanted to be out of the city.”

“Fine, ok. But what is going on? I’m guessing Ward has no idea what you’re doing.”

“You’re not serious, right? You know he hates me doing anything remotely dangerous.”

“Not that I’m against going behind your boyfriend’s back, but what did you do?” I ask my, running my fingers through my hair.

“So, you know how Ward mentioned HYDRA’s top runner, Crossbones, the other day?” I nod. “Well, I got curious. We know nothing about him, and Ward thinks he can set a trap for him. I just, I just don’t want him to get hurt when I could have done something.”

“And you know if you did this at the Bureau, he’d find out somehow and stop you. Or Gonzales would.” Now she nods. “Alright, but I’m helping you with this. I’ve got a weird feeling about the whole thing and as your partner, it’s my job to keep you safe.”

“You worry too much.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’ll practically be behind my computer screen the whole time. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“You’re right, I guess. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying though. And why are you still with Ward?” I groan dramatically, causing her to laugh.

“Oh, be nice. He’s not bad once you get to know him.”

“I don’t know. Something about his arrogance just doesn’t settle well with me.” I shrug.

“You’re being over dramatic. He’s great!”

“He better be, he is dating my best friend after all. Now let’s find the next exit, I’m hungry!”

Her laughter echoes in my head as the car moves along the highway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stomp through the halls on a mission. The office was empty, and disturbingly dark and stuffy for nine in the morning. If he’s not in his office there’s only one other place I could imagine him in, his bedroom.

“Please, don’t kill me for this.” I mutter to myself before taking a deep breath and throwing the door open.

My eyes scan the room and zero in on the lump underneath the covers.

“Go away, Steve.” His usually pleasant rough voice is mixed with hints of sleep and something else. I can’t help it that my inner self finds it sexy while I try to stay concerned rather than turned on.

Now’s not the time for a daydream. Focus.

The door shuts with a soft click, giving him the impression ‘Steve’ left. You aren’t that lucky today. I’m no push over! My boot clad feet thud on the wooden floor as I march straight towards the end of the bed. With one strong grip at the end of the comforter, I yank the sheets off his body before turning towards the curtain clad windows.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He screeches, trying to pull the blankets back up to cover himself from the cold air of the room. That was nothing. “Hey! What the hell is this, Rogers?” I pull the curtains open; the intense sunlight illuminates the room causing even me to briefly squint.

After successfully finding a single blanket to cover back up with, I notice the fact that Barnes had curled himself into a human ball in the middle of his mattress to block out the light.

“Oh, for fucks sake.” I groan, grabbing onto an edge piece of the fabric. “Get up, now!”

I try to yank it off him in one swift motion, again, but he’s faster than I thought. He springs up into a sitting position, latching on to the blanket I almost had off him, commencing a tug-of-war over the stupid thing. The muscles and veins in his arms flex and bulge, and in normal situations, I’d be impressed. But I’m getting irritated.

“You’re an absolute child.” I grunt as I fight with him.

“Let go, you heathen.” He counters.

At his command, I let go, causing him to fly backwards and bounce slightly on the mattress.

“Dangerous mob boss my ass.” I chide, crossing my arms as he just looks at me with disbelief.

“What do you want, Fury?” He groans, rubbing his eyes.

“Too much for you to comprehend at the moment but let’s start with this. How about you get your head out of your ass, get out of bed, and do your damn job?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You wouldn’t understand, Fury. And you’re crossing a line here. Get out.”

“It’s Maximoff to you right now. And what don’t I understand, Barnes?” I ask, ignoring his other remark.

“You have some nerve, coming here, into my room. Now get out.” He growls, tossing the blanket away, exposing me to the fact that he sleeps only in a pair of boxers. Damn, suits really don’t do his body justice, but damn does he look good in either.

“You have some nerve thinking this doesn’t concern me.” I snap back, regaining my focus, glad he didn’t catch me staring or was too annoyed to notice.

“And how,” He starts, finally standing up and slowly walking towards me, “Does this concern you?”

His muscles bulge as he crosses his arms, stopping at the foot of his massive king-sized bed. Though, there is an unsway of his body, and the shakiness that was in his hands that doesn’t evade my attention. Where I once noticed stubble, an unkept beard lies in its place. His hair looks knotted, unwashed, and greasy. Overall, he looks like an absolute train wreck.

“How does it not? Furthermore, how does it not concern you?! Barnes when did you last have a full meal, let alone showered!?” I exclaim, looking him over more closely. I can barely see the fact that he’s lost weight, but it’s there, it’s noticeable. The lack of a hot shower is more than just noticeable though.

He scoffs again.

“This is none of your business. Leave.”

“Stop being so fucking defensive with me. And this is my damn business, or have you forgotten the deal you have with my father? With Brooklyn on uneasy ground, especially after losing their last leader, you’re a target for HYDRA to attack. Not to mention the threat of the other mafia clans. And you know damn well that if my father has any idea that your alliance will cost him more than benefit him, he’ll watch you be fed to the sharks. But it just so happens that his daughter is in your territory, which gives you just a bit more wiggle room. However, if you put me in danger, he won’t just watch, he’ll feed you to the damn sharks himself!”

“I know!” He yells, walking closer to me.

“Then start acting like it.” I hiss.

“You don’t understand!” He argues, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Understand what?!”

“I can’t do this without him!”

The room falls into silence, and I stare at him, stunned.

“Okay? I can’t do this without my father. Yes, he’d been preparing me for years. But I always knew I could get advice from him or help if I needed it, once I took over. But this, all of this. I don’t know how to lead my men; I don’t know how prepare us. I don’t even have time to grieve the fact my father, not my boss, is gone forever, and I don’t know how to do this without him.” He chuckles dryly, hands on his hips. “I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” And he’s turning away from me.

“You’re wrong.” I cringe at how shaky and quiet my voice comes out.

“What?”

“You’re wrong.” I repeat firmly. “To think I don’t understand.” The sting of tears forming in my eyes has me pausing to close them and take a deep breath.

When I open them again, Barnes faces me properly with a look of confusion and mild concern.

“No one knows exactly what to do in these situations. But from one ally to another, you have your training, and the people you trust to help you figure it out. And you have your friends. It might not always work the way you planned, but nothing ever really does. You aren’t the only one grieving the death of your father, the men also adored him. Keep that in mind.” I pause, watching him work through what I said to him. “But don’t you dare ever assume I don’t understand grief.” I sneer. “Or how to continue on with the weight of it constantly on my shoulders. You don’t know me. So don’t act like you do.” He gapes at me, like a fish. “Get your shit together Barnes, and get to work.”

I walk out of his room as quickly as I can, letting the door slam behind me. Two corners later and I finally let myself slump against the wall. I gasp for air I didn’t know I needed as I fight back the tears trying to escape. It’s been six months! It was just a stupid dream! Get it together!

When my breathing returns to normal, I pull out my phone. The message from the unsaved number glares at me as I ignore it, again, and type out a message to another party.

“Meet me at the shore this afternoon. More details will be given soon. Bring the info you have gathered and don’t tell the boss.”

The response is almost immediate.

“Understood. He’s getting antsy about the report...”

I groan to myself as I push off the wall. He’ll just have to wait longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The zippers of my backpack nearly shriek as I pull both of them together quickly. I’ve been frustrated with my more legal job before, but this is something different.

Why the fuck are they making me go to a check in with the case officer this early? A month! I’m supposed to have a month to gain traction and trust in the role they requested of me! They should know that it isn’t safe to possibly expose an undercover operative at all, why would they risk it this early on?!

I growl to myself under my breath as I lace up my boots, aggravated that they’re risking the objective of this mission. If I get made, my father will also lose the alliance, HYDRA might learn of my role in the government and go into hiding, and that’s a lot of fuck up that doesn’t need to happen. Gonzales better either know what he’s doing or have good intel for me.

I swing the backpack up on my shoulder, just as someone knocks on the door.

“Give me a second.” I call, letting the pack flop onto my bed.

I’m surprised to find Natasha on the other side of the door, waiting with her arms crossed patiently.

“Come on in.” I say before she can speak, nodding to the inside of my room.

She raises an eyebrow in suspicion but walks in anyways. She turns to face me just and the door closes.

“All I was going to say was that Barnes is requesting everyone to head to the warehouse, but I’m guessing there’s something else?”

I nod. “I got called for a check in.” I tell her with an eyebrow raised, not needing to tell her who I’m referring to.

“This soon?”

“I’m hoping to get something worth the risk for this, but my gut says otherwise.”

She hums to herself in thought as she processes.

“I can get you a cover this time.” She states sharply. “But they need to get their act together. The cover might work just enough, but there are still people in here who don’t trust you, yet.”

“They might never.” I shrug. “But I agree with your risk assessment. I’m prepared to chew out whoever it is.”

She smirks, then motions towards my door. “Get to the warehouse and leave your things here for now. I’ll make the arrangements.”

I give her a small smile before we’re both walking off in different directions.

The warehouse is packed with people, many of which I don’t recognize, all of whom are engaging in loud conversations. I begin to push my way through the crowd, though I don’t make it too far as I feel a hand grab onto my arm. When I turn towards the pull, Drax smiles at me, motioning for me to follow him. I laugh quietly to myself as people practically jump out of Drax’s way. When we stop, I spot Carol not too far away and walk over to her.

“For the record,” She says, not even looking at me. “This is odd for us too.”

“Is this everyone?” I ask, confused.

She scoffs. “No, there are still those on patrols or jobs that aren’t here. But I’m sure they’ll be brought up to speed, on whatever this is, later.”

I hum as an answer, my eyes scanning the crowd of faces, seeing who I’ll recognize. I just make out Rollins’ silhouette as the voices begin to fall silent. Barnes stands in front of the gathering on a small platform, Rogers and Wilson flank him on either side. He looked a lot better than what I saw earlier. His beard trimmed back to a five o’clock shadow, his hair washed, brushed, and tied into a small bun behind his head, and there was strength in his body showing that he was able to eat since I last saw him. If I hadn’t seen him this morning, I wouldn’t have believed anything was wrong in the first place.

Standing behind the three mafia men, I see Barton, the two Odinson brothers, and five other men and one woman that I don’t recognize. Natasha casually merges in with the group at the last second.

“Many of you have taken note of my absence recently.” Barnes starts talking, his voice booming across the warehouse, commanding everyone’s full attention. It sends a thrill down my spine that I suppress. “And I am aware of the rumors that have been spreading regarding such absence.

“I was reminded earlier today that I was as close to my father as he was with many of you, maybe just a little closer. And yes, I’ve been grieving. But that grief has not blinded me to the enemy that is still out there, just as it has not blinded you.

“The enemy that has let their guard down because HYDRA thinks it has weakened us!” Grumbles of disapproval make him pause. “But they have not weakened us! This clan, this family, is not weakened by the grief of our leader. We are angered, enraged, that they dare try to cross us.” He pauses, listening to the murmurs of agreement of his people. “They have no idea what awaits them. Since the fall of George Barnes, they’ve expected us to kneel before them, begging for mercy. But they will be the ones begging. Their days are number because we will find them, and we will bury every last one of them as we watch HYDRA burn!”

The men begin to shout out their support, the roar almost sounds deafening to my ears, but I follow their lead, yelling with them. Barnes holds up his hand, and the crowd silences.

“Get a move on. We have work to do.” The warehouse erupts in applause, shouts of affirmation, threats to HYDRA, and anything of the sort.

The men begin to clear out of the warehouse, and Carol motions for me to follow her before walking towards Barnes.

“It’s good to see you again, boss.” She tells him with a smile, one he reciprocates before glancing at me. “I was wondering if I’d be able to take new girl around for a drive. Just to show her around our territory.”

“That’ll have to wait, Danvers.” Natasha cuts in, before turning to me. “Let’s go.”

She’s walking away before Barnes or Danvers, who both share a curious glance with me, can say anything. I only slightly hesitate before hurrying after her.

“Thank you.” I mutter once we’re out of the warehouse.

“Don’t thank me, yet. The boss will have questions.”

“Hopefully it’ll be worth it. If it isn’t, I’m gonna chew out whatever unlucky soul is sent.”

“I have no doubt of that.” She replies, and I can hear a hint of a smirk in her voice.

We near one of the doors that serve as an exit to the base, and I see my backpack sitting at the bottom of it.

“Know you way around?” She asks as I swing the backpack over my shoulder.

“Well enough. It shouldn’t be too hard.” I say, shrugging.

“Good. If you do get lost, call me,” She hands me a piece of paper with a number on it. “And I’ll sent someone for you. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” I nod, folding the paper up and slipping it in the back pocket of my jeans.

She nods back, then walks away. I take a deep breath before throwing the door open and walking out in the direction of the nearest subway. When I’m a decent way away from the warehouse, I pull out my phone.

“Brooklyn Bridge Park, Pier 2, two hours.” I press send on the text before placing a call, one I admittedly should have done earlier.

“About damn time!” I cringe at the tone in his voice but carry on as if I didn’t piss him off.

“I thought I wouldn’t have any contact with the Family. But everything’s going well. There was a slight issue, but I handled it and everything’s back to the way it should be.” I say over the noise of the street traffic.

“What issue? And why are you calling in public?”

“I was called in.” I grumble into the phone.

“Already?”

“Yes, but I swear if this is a waste of time, whoever I’m meeting is getting an earful.”

“I’d be concerned if they didn’t. But what issue?”

“It’s been fixed, it doesn’t matter, but I need a copy of the contract.” I state firmly, hopefully distracting him from the other thing.

“Y/N, you know-”

“Father!” I take a breath, so I don’t start arguing with him in public. “I need that copy. If I’m going to be doing this, I need to know every single condition, and every term.”

The other end of the line is silent, and I know he’s thinking things over.

“Alright. But in turn, when I ask for an update, you give me one that fucking day. Understood?”

“Yes.” I mumble, hating feeling like a scolded child.

“Good.”

“I’m getting on the subway, I have to go.”

“I expect an update tomorrow.”

“Yes sir.” I hang up the phone and let out a deep sigh before walking down the stairs.

As the subway approaches, my phone chimes and I glance at the text.

“Understood. I’ll see you there.”

The meeting place my case officer chose, a quaint little coffee shop, is two blocks away from my stop. The amount of people on the sidewalks has me wishing for my bike as I squeeze in between people, and there are several times I wished to shove the slow walkers out of my way when I couldn’t pass. Honestly being stuck in traffic was a bit more enjoyable to being stuck behind of group of gossiping women.

I come up to the corner of the street, where the shop is located, and spot its cute little sign. As I cross the street, I happen to take a glance in the window and immediately find a face I recognize.

“You got to be shitting me.” I growl to myself.

The door chimes as I walk through, and I head towards the table.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I grumble as I take a seat, using the heel of my boot to put pressure on the toes of his foot.

“Right, well,” He coughs, covering up a wince as he pulls his foot away from mine. I smirk to myself. “Considering I called for this, I’m not really surprised.”

“Ward, you son of a bitch.” I hiss, quiet enough not to draw attention, as I kick his shin sharply. “You’re an idiot. You better have a good reason for doing this Grant.”

He visibly winces and adjusts himself before clearing his throat to address me.

“As your case officer, I don’t need to explain this to you.”

“You do when you compromise my position. This was way too early!” I hiss before clearing my throat, remember not to cause a scene. “Do you have information for me or not?”

“We’ll get to that in a second. Look, if Skye was still alive, she’d want-”

“Yeah, well she’s not here. How does your new girlfriend, what was it, Kara, feel about you still being hung up on your dead ex?”

“Do not bring her into this.” He hisses, before straightening up and burying any hint of annoyance until there is barely any emotion visible on his face. I hate when he does this, it unnerves me how easy it is for him each time. “Here.” He states before putting a thin file on the table for me to grab. “This is everything that we’ve been able to find out about them recently.”

I swipe it off the tabletop and gently toss it into my backpack, without opening the folder.

“Hopefully, I don’t see you again anytime soon. This better not become a regular thing with you.” I mumble before getting up and ordering a cup of coffee to-go.

As I walk out of the store, I almost bump into a blonde woman that was on her phone. Luckily for both of us, the coffee didn’t spill. After a few seconds of hurried apologies, and foreign curse words on her end, I hurry to the station, hoping I won’t have to wait that long for my ride.

When I get to the park, I decide to wander around for a little bit. It feels good to be out in fresh air inside of being inside a building for the entire day. The clouds look fluffy and soft, the breeze is cool on my face, and the sun feels just warm enough to enjoy without sweating to death. I stop once I get to Pier 2 and just find myself leaning on the railing of the pier, looking out onto the river and the skyscrapers on the other side.

While I wait, I decide to enter Natasha’s number into my phone, then letting the piece of paper fall into the water of the river, the safest way to dispose of it. After I can no longer see the white of the paper, I return my gaze to my father’s city.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this.”

“Like what?” I ask, looking towards the voice.

“Content. Happy, even just a little bit.” She says with a small smile while moving to stand beside me.

“It’s the little things like this that make me happy, May. It helps me forget about the mess that is my life, even just for a few minutes.”

She hums and we just stand in silence for a moment.

“What have you been able to find?” I ask, breaking the silence and going into business mode.

“Not much. I doubt it’ll be much help to you.”

“A little may be what I need. I still have some of her research. At this point I just need anything on him.”

“Having nightmares about her again?” She asks, concerned.

It causes me to smile, even just a little bit. Sure, my father hired her, but she has always remained loyal to me, more so than to the family. Though, I have no doubt that if she had any concern about me, she’d go talk to my father.

“More like memories. Still, they leave me feeling restless because I haven’t been able to find a lead on this guy. Skye was getting close, I know that. Which is the only explanation as to why she was killed.”

She hums again. “Still not planning on telling your father?”

I scoff. “After he basically called me paranoid for looking into Ward? No. If he finds out I haven’t let this go like he thinks, he’s going to ask questions. Questions I’m not ready to answer. Not only that, but if he finds out I contacted you while on assignment, I’d get my head chewed off. I’m technically not even allowed to contact him, yet here we all are.”

She nods with a slight chuckle, then pulls a file out from underneath her jacket and hands it to me.

“I’ll keep checking in with my contacts on the street to see if anything new about him surfaces, but until then, this is all I have.”

I stare at the closed file for a moment, before sliding that into my backpack as well.

“Thank you again, May.” She smiles briefly before nodding.

“You should get out of here, before anyone questions why you’ve been gone for a while.” I nod and push away from the railing. “Oh, and Y/N?” I turn back around. “Stay safe.”

“You too, May.” I call back, walking away.

A flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye has me pause for a second, but when I see nothing, I shrug to myself and keep going. It must have been in my head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to my room shuts and I feel my body sag from the exhaustion of the day. I let my backpack slip to the ground with a soft thud and shuffle towards my bed. When my back meets the cool sheets of the mattress, a deep sigh escapes my lips and I close my eyes, finally enjoying a bit of rest. But, there’s a knock at my door that has me groaning loudly.

“Of course.” I grumble under my breath.

When I open the door, I’m very surprised to find Thor standing on the other side with a slight scowl on his face.

“Follow me.”

I do so, hesitantly, letting the door slowly click shut before catching up to him. The walk is silent, and for some reason, I feel uneasy for the first time since I walked in here. He leads me through the halls, and I find myself recognizing where we are going. James Barnes’ office.

Thor opens the door and motions for me to step inside, and I do, trying to maintain a façade of confidence. And I’m grateful for it, because the glare Barnes wears as he watches me enter almost has me reeling backwards. He sits behind his desk, looking regal, deadly, and in charge. No trace of friendliness shows on his face.

What really throws me for a loop is the petite redhead curled on his lap, her well-manicured nails raking through his hair in almost a possessive manner. The sight makes something churn uncomfortably in my stomach, and by the smirk on her face, she knows it too.

I look away from her, finding Rogers and Wilson in their places behind Barnes, leaning against the wall. Natasha stands off to the right, near the only window in the office.

“Dot, leave.” He says stiffly, not removing his gaze from mine.

“But Bucky Boo-”

“Now.” He growls, ignoring her high-shrieked protest. This is the infamous Barnes I’ve heard about on the streets.

She huffs in irritation, untangling herself from Barnes’ lap and starts stomping out of the room like a child throwing a small tantrum. She brushes past me, giving me the death glare on her way. I simply raise an eyebrow at her retreating form until the door shuts behind her.

“Lovely person, Bucky Boo.” I mutter under my breath, turning back around. “I haven’t looked at the information I was given, yet. I only just got back to the compound.” I say to Barnes, assuming that’s what got him so miffed.

“How was the meeting?” He asks, completely ignoring my remark, irritation still evident.

“I wanted to shove Ward’s head through the window only a few times. So, fairly well, I guess. Still pissed off he’s assigned as my case officer though.” I shrug still not seeing the point of this.

I see Barnes’ eye twitch and hear the soft click of the door closing. I turn around to see the blonde that I almost walked into on the sidewalk from earlier, and everything falls into place. With a click of my tongue in understanding, I turn back around towards Barnes.

“You had me followed.” I state.

“Yelena Belova, Nat’s sister, was sent to keep an eye on you. Make sure you stayed safe.”

“Hmmm. Interesting.” I hum towards the ground, frustrated that I didn’t see that coming earlier, as my hands find purchase on my hips, my nails digging into the fabric of my shirt.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a message saying you weren’t on your way back after the drop off, but was going to meet someone else.”

“Yeah, and I’m not telling you why.” I fire back stubbornly, my hands still on my waist.

Barnes blinks rapidly, shocked, because I didn’t deny it, that I said no to him so easily, or maybe because of something else completely. Whatever the reason, he recovers quickly. A scowl now twisting up his features.

“We had a deal with your f-”

“I’m not the one that needs reminder of that deal, it seems.” I snap. “What I did today, was for reasons you aren’t entitled to.” His scowl deepens. “Now, I could give you some information about it. If you were to tell me something in return.”

“And what’s that?” He growls, but willing to play my game.

“The last crate I picked up on my assignment.” Recognition dances over his eyes. “Yeah, it’s about that. Tell me what was in there because I know for a fact it wasn’t the shit on the manifest. That was just a cover. You tell me what the shipment was, and I’ll tell you what I was given.”

He clenches his jaw, but doesn’t say a word. I wait for a moment before nodding, more to myself than him.

“You’ll get the info the Bureau sent me, once I make sure it’s actually useful.”

I turn and exit the office quickly, no one saying a word to me before the door closes. My nails dig into my palms as I stomp back to my room, pissed off at the day I’ve had. My door slams shut, and I begin pacing the floor of my room. Anger flows through my veins like a fire that can’t be stopped. I had at least thought I was gaining some ground with Barnes and even some of the others, but apparently not. The only reason he let me go free is because of that stupid deal.

One thing’s certain after tonight, though. James Barnes is not to be trusted.

 Part 7

Tag List:

@the-ss-horniest-book-club

@broco8

@tcc-gizmachine

@miraclesoflove

@ladyacrasia

[blu-joons]

DATING SUPER JUNIOR A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Lee Donghae

A ⇴ AFFECTION

You can guarantee when Donghae gets affectionate with you, his cheeks are a dark shade of red. He finds affection very reassuring and comforting, so will often try and hold you against him or bury himself into the crook of your neck.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

Being a bit quieter than some of the other members, you were intrigued by him when you first met the group. Hyukjae could tell instantly that Donghae had taken a liking to you, he tried to often bring the two of you together in conversation because you were usually too shy to approach each other. He found himself talking around you a lot more which he loved.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

He was incredibly shy when it came to confessing, he was a perfectionist, and nothing could go wrong. He didn’t plan anything huge, just in case he got rejected, but he still put together a nice meal at his house, a casual movie night was all he had planned. When he turned to you at the end of the film, you had a funny feeling that something was going on. It took a while, but eventually he built up the courage to tell you exactly how he felt.

D ⇴ DATES

Your dates were quite typical, Donghae loved to pick you up in his car and drive you around before taking you somewhere nice. Your dates had a lot of variation too, sometimes you’d just go out for dinner, but other times you’d try something a little more competitive, maybe the arcade or bowling. He was super competitive and hated when you won, especially when it meant the loser paid for dinner. He’d often surprise you with little songs or poems that he’d written late at night whilst working on music for the group on your dates.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

For a long time, he’d been too nervous to date, he knew that the other members were louder, so girls tended to gravitate towards them. When you began to pay attention to him, he had a strong feeling that this was the world’s way of telling him he was ready to start dating. It had been a long time since he’d been in a relationship, and at times things felt very strange to Donghae, but you were very understanding. He loved being around someone, he hated being alone, so very quickly the two of you began to spend a lot of time together as Donghae learnt about love again.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

If the two of you ever argue, expect a lot of tears. One minute the two of you will be yelling across the room at each other, desperate to win the argument, and then the next minute, you’ll look across and see Donghae struggling to hold back his tears. He hates conflict and confrontation, it breaks his heart, and eventually gets him very upset. As soon as one, or both of you, start getting upset you’ll make the decision to sit down and talk about everything, preventing things from getting any further out of hand then they already are.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

He was very keen for you to meet his family, after only a couple of months he invited you to a family dinner with him. There were thousands of questions on your first meeting as everyone tried to get to know you, but luckily for you, they were very impressed by your answers, and very impressed that Donghae had found you.

H ⇴ HOME

Again, he doesn’t always like to be left alone in his own company for too long, so it won’t take long before Donghae mentions about moving you in. To begin with, you’ll just think it’s a bit of a joke, but after the fifth time of mentioning it, you’ll begin to realise he’s being serious, and start to talk about it properly together.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

Donghae was the first one to say it one night at the end of a date. As he pulled up in front of your house, he didn’t want to see you get out of the car. Before he’d even realised what he’d said, the words came from his lips as he tried to encourage you to spend the night at his. Your head snapped around with a wide smile, as you told him you also loved him too.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

He’ll try hard not to get jealous in your relationship, but sometimes he just can’t help it. He knows he’s not the loudest person in the room, so there’s usually someone who has your attention more than he does. If he gets jealous, he’ll become very reclusive, he’ll usually walk away so he can deal with his emotions alone so no one else can see. When you look around and notice he’s not around, you’ll quickly walk around until you find him, recognising straight away what’s going on. He’ll always apologise for feeling that way, but as you always assure him, jealousy is only a natural feeling.

K ⇴ KIDS

He wanted kids at thirty-three, so when that didn’t happen, he was desperate for it to happen as quickly as possible. It didn’t take long before he brought them up for the first time, and when you moved into his apartment, the conversation became a lot more serious. The two of you would spend many late nights talking about how you imagined your lives in the near future, deciding that you’d wait for when the time was right.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Donghae laughs more than he talks most of the time, which you laugh. He’s got a bright smile, one of your favourite features about him, and seeing him happy always touches your heart. He’s very good with cheesy jokes, which as much as you don’t want to laugh at, you usually end up doing so. He loved to make you laugh, he’d always be tickling you or doing something funny to bring a smile to your face, especially when he knew you’d had a bad day. If he’s not making you laugh, he’ll somehow find a way to make sure that you do.

M ⇴ MISSING

He hated being away from you, it was incredibly hard on him. He’d always worry about you and fret that you were by yourself, checking up on you numerous times throughout the day. You’d have long phone calls whenever the two of you could find the time, usually they wouldn’t end until one, or both, of you fell asleep. He’d also send you plenty of photos so you could see all the fun things he was getting up to, expecting the same from you too so he could make sure that you were taking care of yourself. The minute he got home; he’d refuse to leave your side for quite some time.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

He’s very affectionate with his nicknames, ‘bub,’ is his favourite as it’ll always make you smile. You love to tease him with nicknames, knowing how hard he’s working on his body, ‘muscles,’ will always wind him up.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Donghae is obsessed with your eyes, he feels like he can tell a lot about how you’re feeling from your eyes. He also loved to hold eye contact with you, even if he usually does end up getting too shy and looking away.

P ⇴ PDA

He’s quite shy when it comes to PDA, he hates to make a massive deal of pointing your relationship out to people. His affection is very subtle, he’ll usually hold your hand, so people know that you’re his without being obvious. If he’s in a playful mood, maybe he’ll peck your cheek or something, but that’s usually as far as he goes.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

One of the most frequent questions he’ll ask is if you’re busy. Whenever he’s worked on something, whether it be music, or a recipe, he’ll be desperate to get your opinion on it.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACT

After a little over a year into your relationship, Donghae began to introduce you to people as his wife. The people close to you always referred to the fact the two of you acted as a married couple, so Donghae would love to play on that. What he enjoyed more however, was the confused faces of people, who searched for a ring with no idea what he was going on about.

S ⇴ SEX

Very loving, he’s very attentive and very romantic. He’ll always work hard to make you feel special, he doesn’t care if he doesn’t get as much attention, you’re his priority. He loves to have your hands in his hair, it always makes him shy. He loves to take his time and pay as much close attention as he can to you.

T ⇴ TEXTS

He doesn’t text you often when he’s at home, but the second he leaves you for tour he’ll text, constantly. He tries to have as much contact with you as possible so it can still feel like you’re there with him.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

Not many people appreciated his character as he was so quiet, but you were definitely one of them. He had plenty of quirks, and terribly cheesy jokes, but whilst others would tease him for it, you’d always laugh and make him feel special.

V ⇴ VACATION

He’s very keen on taking at least a few days out of his schedule in the year to take you on holiday. It’s his way of making up to you the many days you’re left waiting up for him to come home, or not even seeing him at all. He’ll tend to keep it all a secret, and surprise you that morning with tickets for somewhere he knows you’ll love.

W ⇴ WHINING

Donghae doesn’t whine often, but if he needs your help with something, he’ll be sure to let you know about it.

X ⇴ XXXXX

In private, he kisses you quite often. If you’re sat at your desk working, he’ll appear with a kiss to your cheek and a mug of coffee, or when he finds you sat reading, he’ll come up beside you and kiss the top of your head. His kisses are always when you least expect them, which in turn means they’ll always end up making you blush.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his best friend, well, if Hyukjae would ever allow you to be.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

He loved to have you nice and close when he slept, especially if you were playing with his hair. You’d have many late nights staying up, laying face to face and talking about anything that came to mind.

---

Masterlist

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[heliads]

Radio Silence Chapter Four: I Verify

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

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Poe waits. Y/N does not show up. To be honest, he’s not sure why he cares. He’s only met her a few hours ago, and they’ve been clashing ever since. Yet there was still something strange about seeing that brief flash of unease in her eyes, the waver in her voice when she was questioning Leia. Stormtroopers and the threat of torture back in her First Order cell were never enough to shake her, yet something at the base had washed all of that away. Isn’t that something to be concerned about?

Poe watches the corridors, the rooms, the training centers, but Y/N is conspicuously absent from all of them. It’s not like he’s actively trying to search her out, he just keeps noticing that she isn’t there. If he went to all of the trouble of breaking her out of a First Order Star Destroyer, he should at least know that she’s alright, right? He sounds like a lunatic.

After a couple of days, Poe finally sees her. She’s walking purposefully through the corridors of the base, listening to some coworker yammer on next to her. When Y/N’s eyes catch on him, she seems to hesitate for a second, then she raises a hand in greeting. Poe smiles in return, and just like that, the moment is over. Poe isn’t sure what he was expecting- he and Y/N had been fighting almost all of the time they spent on the Needle. So what if they had been civil on the base- did he really expect that they would trade insults in front of Leia? Nothing’s changed except the location, and Poe shouldn’t find himself disappointed that it hasn’t.

Life on the base goes on as normal. Poe sees rebels sent out on missions, they return with more scars and tales of high-stakes chases through the stars. Eventually, Poe gets tired of sitting around and politicking with Leia’s advisors, so he puts in a request for an off-base mission. He doesn’t know how long he’ll have to wait, but at least the prospect of leaving this system is somewhere in reach. 

The mission ends up coming around sooner than he’d expected- barely a week goes by before Poe finds himself packing for another expedition. He’ll be taking his trusty X-Wing this time, no more sublight cruises or Mandalorian Needles. To be honest, Poe is okay with this- if there’s only room for him, there’s no chance that he’s bringing back snarky mechanic spy officers who can rival his knowledge of ship parts or be able to bother him with a single smirk and step.

As Poe is tossing his gear into his X-Wing, he notices someone walking up behind him. He turns to see Y/N, arms swinging casually at her sides as she takes in the ship. “Have you been downgraded from the Needle?” She asks, grinning. Poe ignores the sarcastic grin. “The Needle was temporary, the X-Wing is my favorite. If you say anything bad about her I’ll kick your ass myself.” Y/N raises her eyebrows. “Defensive, I see. Does that mean a lot of people have said bad things about your X-Wing or are you just very prepared?”

Poe turns to look at her, folding his arms across his chest. “Are you always this exasperating or is it just for me?” Y/N grins like a lynx. “What, are you asking if you’re special to me? Not a chance. I just wanted to see if Finn was going with you or not.” Poe leans up against the metal fuselage of his ship. “That’s a good excuse, but I’m pretty sure that you came all the way out to the hanger just to see me off.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “I was so excited to see you leave that I couldn’t help myself. Don’t take it too seriously.” Poe flashes her a grin. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you’ll miss me.” With that, he jumps up into the X-Wing, holding back a laugh at the sound of Y/N’s outraged retorts. Yet when he checks one last time over his shoulder as he flies out of the hanger, he notices that Y/N is still watching him go, a soft smile on her lips. Maybe she wasn’t so unfeeling after all.

The mission itself is nothing major. He’s not going into the Kinoss system or anywhere near Starkiller Base, just treading lightly on the outskirts of the Unknown Regions. There’s a backup copy of Resistance data files that needs to be collected and brought back to base. It contains lists of recon officers and spies, their assigned locations, and everything they’ve been able to find out over the last month. To put it simply, it is imperative that Poe finds this data file and brings it back before the First Order catches wind of its presence.

BB-8 whistles at him from over his shoulder, and Poe grins. “No, I’m not worried. This isn’t like Kinoss, we shouldn’t have to get anywhere near a Star Destroyer. Nothing’s going to happen.” There’s a whirring and clicking, and Poe shoots the droid a look over his shoulder. “Will you stop talking about her? She was just there to get in one final jibe in case I died, and I’m not going to die, so it’s no big deal.” He pauses for a second, listening to the series of beeps, then speaks again. “If you don’t drop this I’m going to send you over to Finn and get a new droid that doesn’t bother me all the time. Yes, I’m joking, stop your chatter.”

Poe touches down just outside of some backwater town. It’s not so different from the planet D’Qar, where the Resistance base is currently hidden, or even Yavin 4. Manageable gravity, only one sun, except there are significantly fewer forests and more of these massive stone outcroppings that block off the sun to create areas of shadow on the ground that are miles long. Farms have to be built on moving bases so that they can constantly stay in the sun as the sun passes overhead, forever shifting back and forth to avoid the shade of the stone cliffs.

Poe received intel that the data files were stored in a cave on the northeastern part of the planet, in a hollow in a rock face. He’s been sent the exact coordinates, and he makes his way deliberately along the surface of the planet, dodging behind large crags of rock whenever stormtroopers or civilians pass his way. He doesn’t want to be spotted, because he won’t be able to talk his way out of this one. A Resistance officer getting caught on a city planet is understandable, but here? He would obviously be hiding something.

After about half a standard hour of walking, Poe finds the cave entrance. He flicks on a lightstick from his multitool, shining it around. His eyes quickly catch on a plasteel crate tucked away under a rock ledge, and he hurries over to it, picking it up and carrying it out of the cave. Once he gets out into the light once more, Poe can recognize the faded Resistance insignia, and he knows he has the right box. Just to be careful, though, he opens up the box once he’s back inside his X-Wing, telling BB-8 to pilot him back so that Poe can direct his full attention to the crate.

The box is empty except for one datapad. Curious, Poe lifts it from the box, flicking it on and allowing a wash of bluish white light to cascade over his face in the dark of space. BB-8 whistles something from behind him, and Poe waves a hand dismissively at the small droid. “I’m sure it’s fine that I look at this. I have to make sure it isn’t a First Order decoy, right?” Besides, Poe makes knowing things a habit in the Resistance, and he’d like to make sure he stays on top of things. Even without his pride, however, there’s still a fairly good reason to check the files: they might contain something on Acer.

This is wrong, yes. He shouldn’t be checking it, shouldn’t know anything about her at all. But he isn't interested in finding out the name, only the status. If she’s dead or still considered missing, the file will state it. After a few minutes of paging through the data sets, Poe finds the entry he’s looking for: Sender code name: Acer. Receiver code name: Bravo. This is her. At first, Poe’s eyes flick over to the status bar, and he feels his chest fill with silent, overwhelming gratitude when he reads the few words labeled there: Alive. Returned to base. But then he keeps reading, and Poe feels a sudden piercing shock drive through him like a vibroblade.

His real name is there as the receiver: Poe Dameron. Next to that, though, is her name. Acer’s real name. Sender: Y/N L/N. Poe leans his head back, letting it thunk against the seat. For a second, he can’t think about anything at all. His eyes watch as the stars flick past behind him, but he isn’t taking in a thing. Then all of the emotions hit him at once. Acer is Y/N. Y/N is Acer. This must be what she was talking about that day, wasn’t it? Poe had told her that he was Bravo, that he was Acer’s receiver. Of course she had seemed stunned, she was going through the same revelation that Poe is undertaking right now.

But it’s different for Poe. Y/N had only had to realize that the man in front of her was Bravo, and she had chosen to not say anything. She had kept it entirely to herself, except for a frenzy of questions delivered to Leia. Why hadn’t she said anything? Yes, they’d been arguing for a while back on the Needle, but that wasn’t enough for her to damn him to never knowing if she was dead or alive. Why would she have lied to him?

By the time Poe is docking at the Resistance hanger once more, his anger and betrayal have faded into an overwhelming numbness. He walks over to Leia at the command center, handing her the box with the data files still securely inside. He doesn’t say anything more than he has to, and then he leaves the room once more. Poe has scarcely gone ten paces from the room when Y/N rounds the corner, and a cocky smile lights up her face at the sight of him. Poe can’t bring himself to return it, even when she hurries over to him.

“Look who it is, the returning hero! I thought I’d have a little longer until you came back. I think I might be disappointed.” On any other day, Poe would have scoffed, and said something about how every minute in that ship away from her was a blessing, but he stays silent today. Instead, he looks over at her, starting to veer away from the hallway and towards a door leading to an empty room. “I need to talk to you.” Y/N’s grin falters at the look on his face, at the stiffness of his words.

“Sure, Dameron. I’m a little worried now.” She follows him into the room and Poe closes the door behind him once he makes sure that they’re alone. When he turns back from the door, Y/N is facing him, the soft light of the room hanging over her eyes in a gentle wash of brightness. “What’s wrong?” She asks. Poe just looks at her coolly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He doesn’t have to say anything more- Y/N knows what he’s talking about. Her gaze falls away, and when she speaks again, her voice is quiet. “You know.”

Poe feels a surge of anger starting to twist up in him once more. “Of course I know. How long were you planning on keeping this from me? A month, a year? What, you thought you could never tell me and it would be okay? I would have spent the rest of my life thinking that my Acer, my best friend, was dead or tortured, and you were fine with that.” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I would never have done that to you.”

Guilt is spun around Y/N’s every feature, but it hurts too much to look at her. “I wanted to tell you, but I know you wouldn’t want to hear it. Not from me.” She laughs, the sound twisted and broken in the quiet room. “You would never have wanted to find out like that. What, that ‘your Acer’ was the girl you’d spent the last few hours hating and arguing with on that ship? If I had told you, you would have wished I kept it to myself. When you told me you were Bravo I realized that Leia had never told you, and I figured it would be best if I went along with it. You would never have wanted it to be me, not in a million years.”

Poe just stares at her. “What, you thought that this was you doing the right thing? Maybe I would have been surprised, but you don’t get to decide how I would have felt. You don’t know what I would have said, so you made the choice for me.” Poe rakes a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Stars, I don’t know anything about you.” Y/N’s gaze turns cold. “No, you really don’t.” With that, she turns and walks from the room. Were it not for the hunch in her shoulders, Poe would have thought she was fine. Yet he can still see it in her stance, in the rhythm of her steps as she walks away. He’s really done it now.

Poe waits until he can no more, slipping away from his quarters to go find Y/N. He’s not sure what he would say to her- apologize? Promise he’s not going to leave? But it doesn’t look like he’ll get the chance- no matter where he goes, Poe cannot find her. Eventually, some comms officer notices him walking back and forth down the halls and offers to help him out. When Poe explains that he’s looking for Y/N, the officer visibly winces.

“I’m sorry, Dameron, but Recon Agent L/N left on a mission two standard hours ago. It was really hush-hush, almost nobody knew except Leia and a few others. All I can tell you is that she was in a team with two other soldiers, and they were going somewhere in the Core Worlds.” Poe starts. “But that’s in the middle of First Order territory. That’s practically suicide.” The officer nods sympathetically. “It’s dangerous, that’s for sure. It’s a shame you didn’t get to see her off, I thought I saw her looking for you. Well, keep your hopes up. I’m sure she’ll be back here before we know it.”

The officer continues on down the corridor, leaving Poe reeling in his head. That was why Y/N wanted to see him- to tell him about the mission. And how had he left her, minutes before she left on what would probably be the most dangerous mission of her life? With angry words and accusations of betrayal. He wishes he could take it back, redo that moment. Even his anger from before seems dull and pale now. 

What if Poe never sees her again? What if that was his last moment with Y/N, with Acer, and he just left a broken memory with the most important girl in his life?

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata​, @ubri812​, @itsnottilly​, @20th-centu-fairy-girl​, @imabeautifulbutterfly​, @cp11​, @chocolitelady​

[harrywritingsbyme]

it’s sooo hot where i live right now and it’s also really hot in my house, so could you maybe do something where the reader faints from the heat? like heatstroke or something??

Too Hot

Based Off Of This Ask

A/N: I Combined the two! I HAD to make this a Sugar daddy/boyfriend!Harry fic. It’s fluffy with a tinge of angst bc why not. The ending is ‘eh’...so don't judge me. Enjoy🙃

Harry loved to do any and everything for you. He’d buy you the entire world if he could. He just loved doing things for you. He knows how hard you work, plus you never ask him for anything besides his love and support. So spoiling you would always be a priority for him. He absolutely adored seeing your face light up when he bought you something that you’d been eyeing or something that he just knew you’d like. There was no sight in this world that he loved more than seeing you, the woman he loves happy. He planned on doing everything he could to keep that smile on your face. And Harry was able to do just about everything to successfully do that. That is, except for one thing. 

Despite all of the presents he’s bought you and the love and affection he showered you with, he still couldn’t get you to move in with him. 

You loved Harry more than you could ever explain to anyone. You were constantly thanking your lucky stars for not only having such an amazing boyfriend, but also for just having an amazing person like him in your life at all. Even though you didn’t care about all the presents, you weren’t going to deny the fact that you did enjoy them. You absolutely loved the way Harry spoiled you and made you feel like a princess. Who wouldn’t love that?! Despite this being the case, you still couldn’t manage to allow yourself to take him up on his offer to move in with him. You loved the way he spoiled you with love and presents, but moving in was an entirely different ballgame for you. You felt like you should be taking care of yourself and anything Harry gave you should just be extra. For some reason, when you thought about living with him, you felt like you were incapable or inadequate when it came to taking care of yourself. With this being said, every time Harry’d ask or bring it up to you, you’d sweetly say “one day”. 

You knew that without a doubt you and Harry would live together in the future. What you didn’t know was that one day, would actually be today. 

It was the hottest day of the year so far where you lived and as if it was right on time, the air conditioner in your apartment broke the night before. This meant that your place was going to become an oven and you had no choice but to live in it. You were taking all of the necessary measures to stay cool. You were wearing minimal and cool clothes, you kept your cold water near you at all times, the blinds and curtains were closed to keep the sun out, and the fan was on the highest setting. Even though you were doing all these things, it didn’t stop your body from shutting down. You were able to get through the morning but once noon hit, your apartment only got hotter and more uncomfortable. The heat was just too much for you and before you knew it, you were out for the count.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone and passed out in your apartment for long. Yesterday Harry had promised you that he’d come over and spend the day with you after he got out of the meetings he had scheduled for today. After walking down the long hallway, which was just another reason why Harry wanted you to move in with Him, he finally makes it to your apartment. Normally after one or two knocks you’d be opening the door and greeting Harry with a kiss. After a few more knocks and still no response, Harry fishes into his pocket for his keys and uses the key you’d given him and he lets himself in. As soon as he opens the door, he’s enveloped in the overwhelming heat from your apartment. When he steps inside, he only gets hotter. But the heat was the last thing he was worrying about when he saw you slumped over on the couch with the fan directly on you. When he sees you like this, his mind goes straight to the worst case scenario. 

Harry knew that you and heat didn’t mix well at all. There were countless times where he needed to keep a close eye on you whenever you two were out and about when it was beyond hot outside. You’d only fainted once in the past, and he was right there to take care of you. Now, Harry didn’t know how long you’d been like this and he was absolutely terrified. 

Harry immediately drops the paper bag that held the lunch he brought for you both and rushes right over to you. He brings two fingers up to your neck to check your pulse and in that moment, Harry breathed for the first time since he stepped inside. The absolute worse case scenario that was running around in his head finally stops when he feels a pulse. The only thing he had to do next was get you up and awake. For the next 20 minuets, Harry runs around your apartment to get you situated so that when you come back to you’re nice and comfortable. He makes sure that the damp washcloth he has draped across your forehead is cool at all times, and that the makeshift icepacks he made are in all the right places. Once you’re all taken care of in bed, Harry leaves out of your room to take care of the food he brought you earlier.

When you finally begin to come back to, you immediately notice a change in your surroundings and your mind goes straight to Harry. You could hear him moving around somewhere in your apartment, so you decide to get up and check on him. But that plan is immediately scrapped, when you feel a massive headache crash over you as you move to sit up.

“Harry” You call out to him, even though your mouth was beyond dry and your throat was a bit scratchy. After a few more calls out to him, you finally hear his footsteps coming in the direction of your bedroom. 

“Hey baby.” Harry coos softly, coming into the bedroom with a tray of essentials in hand. He comes around to your side of the bed and he places the tray on your bedside table before sitting on the edge next to your legs. “How y’feeling?” 

“I have a crazy headache.” You grumble to him. “What happened?” You ask him, trying to figure out why you were waking up with a massive headache, and why Harry was taking on the role of nurse. 

“The heat was too much for you and you passed out on the couch.” Harry explains, reaching over to grab a pain reliever for your headache. 

“How long was I out?” You sigh, taking the pill from Harry. Before answering, Harry helps you sit up so that you can take the pill with water. 

“When I got here, you were passed out on the couch.” Harry explains further, holding you and the glass of water up. 

“The AC went out last night.” You tell him, laying back against the pillows when when you’re done with the water. 

“I don’t want to tell you that I told you so, especially now” Harry begins, placing the glass of water back onto the tray. “But…this wouldn’t have happened if you just moved in with me.” Harry says matter of factly.

“Harry” you sigh, digging your head back into the pillow. 

“I know this isn’t the best time to have this conversation, but I just need to know. If you don’t want to that’s fine, but I just need an answer.” At first you were frustrated with the idea of having this conversation. But seeing the look of worry, mixed with dejection was making you feel even worse than you were already feeling. To see Harry worried about you and your health, to now showing a feeling of being turned down was the worse sight in the world.

“Babe” you sigh, reaching out to grab his hand. “It’s not that I don’t want to move in with you, it’s just that-“ before you even continue, you have to pause for a second. Even though you weren’t in the right frame of mind to talk about things right now, you did owe it to Harry to at least give him an answer.

“You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, just tell me how you feel.” He reminds you, squeezing your hand in his. 

“It’s just that you already do so much for me as it is, and moving in with you makes me feel like I can’t take care of myself. It’s like I work hard and I still need someones help.” You explain lowly to him. 

“Babe, the little bit that I do for you is nowhere near what you deserve. You work extremely hard and I completely understand why you feel like you should be taking care of yourself. But, at the end of the day, I love you, I want to make you happy, and I just want to spend every moment I possibly can with you. Especially after today.” By the end, Harry was on the verge of tears. Seeing you so fragile and not being able to do anything about it was really getting to him. He also hated not being able to take care of you the way he wanted to, and the way you deserved. 

“I know you’re gonna cry, and if you do then I’m gonna lose it.” You pout up at him. After hearing his side, you realized that yes your feelings may have been valid, but moving in together would make Harry happy, and that’s the only thing that mattered to you. And it’s not like you were moving in with a complete stranger. You were moving in with Harry, the absolute love of your life.

“You really scared me today baby.” Harry sighs in disbelief. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” 

“S’not your fault that you have a shitty air conditioning unit.” Harry jokes. 

“And I wouldn’t have to worry about that if I just moved in with you already.” You repeat his words as you sit up against your headboard. In this short amount of time, you managed to make your mind up that you were indeed going to take Harry up on his offer and move in with him. Now you just wanted to lighten the mood a little bit and mess with him.  

“What’s it going to take for you to move in with me?” He asks you. His time was filled with amusement and frustration at the fight you were putting up against this. You’d given him a hard time before, but never like this. 

“You buying me that pretty necklace I showed you.” You bargain. You figured you might as well try to get something else out of the deal. 

To Harry though, this was a yes to his proposal. You could have said that you wanted an island and he would have emptied his bank accounts to do it. And with Harry, that was far from an over exaggeration. 

“De-“ before he can even agree, you quickly interject to make sure he knows exactly what you want.

“The diamond one.” You clarify. When Harry hears you say this, he couldn’t help but laugh. Even though you didn’t ask for much, you surely knew what you wanted.

“I’ll buy you the entire store if it means that my baby’ll be living with me.” Harry says excitedly. He stands up and straddles your body so that he’s on top of you and he begins to shower you with little kisses. After a few more minuets of kisses and laughs between you and Harry, the both of you were out of breath. 

“I love you.” You whisper up to him with a soft smile, and reaching up to push back the curls that had fallen in his face. 

“I love you more baby.” Harry sighs back Happily, bringing his head down to press another kiss to your lips. “On an unrelated note, am I your sugar daddy?” 

“Way to ruin the mood sir.” You laugh at the random question.

“No I’m being serious.” Harry chuckles, trying to start up the conversation again. “I mean, you already call me daddy in the bedroom. And I buy you pretty things.” Harry rations. 

“When you get me that pretty necklace, are you gonna make me suck you off to say thank you?” You tease. 

“I mean, I’m not gonna force you, nor oppose it the way some people like to oppose things.” He says pointedly with a smirk. “But it would be nice though.”

“I like being your girlfriend though.” You pout up at him.

“You’ll still be my girlfriend obviously. I think I just want the title. Y’know?”

“No, I really don’t know. But I do love you, and if it makes you happy, I guess you can be my sugar daddy. Just know that you’re a weirdo.” You agree, even though you had no idea where this was coming from. 

“You said yes to two things in one day?! Is this because you’re getting a pretty necklace outta me?” Harry asks “suspiciously”.

“Maybe” You reply with a smirk. 

“Well I think that this daddy deserves some sugar.” Harry replies smoothly. When he says this, all you could do was laugh hysterically.

“Okay, two things. One, never say that again because that was really weird. Two, I’d me more than willing to give you some “sugar”, but we need to go to your place and do it because it’s hot in here, you being on top of me only makes me hotter, and I’m not trying to pass out again.”

“Fine” Harry concedes, making sure to give you a serious pout before falling onto the bed next to you. 

Even though passing out wasn’t the most ideal way to have a breakthrough, it did end up working out in you and Harry’s benefit. 

Masterlist

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

[allbrainrot]

Hi! First, i love your writing🥺 Now to the point. How about felix, sylvain and dimitri pinning after the female reader? We are basically yeeting ingrid and placing a fem reader instead😂 Like, they are childhood friends and the three of them have had a lovestruck for her since they were kids? And now they just end up fighting for her love or smth? Either hdcns or an scenario is fine! You can pick whichever you wish! However if you dont want to write this req please dont feel forced to! Love u🥺

Thank you so much!! 🖤 And yes, you got it! Bye Ingrid LMAO 😎😎 I write pre timeskip wayyy better so I’m gonna just say that reader is 18 (i don’t write NSFW or anything but age is still a thing lol) so that they’re in between the ages of Dimi + Felix & Sylvain and it works out, hope you don’t mind! I love you too anon 🥺

- Dimi is probably the first one to catch feels when they’re kids! Felix does too but he’s kinda just like wtf is this??? until someone teases him about it. Sylvain is quite ✨special✨ with romance but I think he’d be inclined to trust you a lot more because you’ve known him since you were teeny tiny before you even knew wtf a crest was! So he probably also catches feels when you’re kids but then he goes through his whole girl phase SIGH

- None of them realize their predicament until they all see you again at the officer’s academy together. I wouldn’t say they’re super obvious about it, but they’re teenagers (well Syl isn’t but shhhhh) who all like the same person so they’re going to pick up on each other’s crushes while reader remains ignorant. It’s not an issue that needs to be addressed immediately, but they’re all watching each other cautiously.

- Syl would have a massive head start on flirting with you, but he’s faced with the big issue that you don’t believe he’s being genuine and brush him off. Felix is constantly challenging you to duels to get close to you and also have alone time with you, although the other 2 will occasionally ruin his plans and insist on joining. Ah man bby Dimitri would probably come across as a little overbearing because he’s very protective of you and is constantly offering to do things for you. He’s just a mother hen that’s whipped for you and doesn’t know any other way to express it!

- When it comes to the 4 of you sitting together at lunch or in class, Sylvain is the worst. He’s very aware that his competition is far less bold than him, and so he’s making sure he’s always closest to you. Will squish as close to you as humanly possible HE WOULD DEADASS PUT YOU IN HIS LAP IF HE COULD 😭 If he puts a hand on your thigh or an arm around you it’s a wholeass declaration of war.

- Felix will likely become much more protective which may cause a lot of yelling at you for being careless or weak, but really he’s just so worried! To ease his mind, he’ll help you correct your mistakes himself (which has the added bonus of getting really close to you and occasionally lowkey holding hands when he adjusts your grip). Around other people, especially Dimitri and Sylvain he’ll be evidently sweeter to you to get the message across. A blended mix of jealousy and concern will make him very protective of you around the other two. Dimitri is not getting within 5 feet of you while guard dog Felix is around.

- In the Blue Lions the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife everyone is thoroughly confused but frankly just sick of it lol. Felix glaring at Dimitri? That’s totally normal but Dimitri is doing it back AND Sylvain is added to the weird stare off- wtf happened?? Byleth would have to talk to them after class and be like guys what in the goddess’s name happened 😭 They’ll all give a vague answer that doesn’t give away that it’s about you and each one of them has a jab at the others to shift the blame..please find your chill lads !

- At this point everything gets a little bit needier because they’ve all had this pent up yearning but have been blocked by the others. (If you’re ok with it) Sylvain will just randomly peck you on the cheek or your forehead when he sees you and you’re just like LOL ok ✨typical Sylvain✨ But when you sit next to him at lunch or in class he’s started very tenderly holding your hand under the table and you’re like huh ok that’s a little odd. If Dimitri is on the other side of you he will carefully take your other hand in retaliation. Felix will probably give in and do the same but he’ll snatch your hand a lot more aggressively and look away from you with a scowl and a blush.

- Dimi and Felix are both touch starved AF and would very much appreciate cuddles or any physical contact. If you’ve reacted positively to everything thus far, Dimitri will slowly start to bite the bullet and initiate affection because he wants it so bad. Any time you touch Dimitri, he gets sappy and lovey af and will express his adoration in hopes that you’ll keep giving him affection. Felix would never upfront ask for affection but he just kinda sits really close to you and glares at you with a little pout and you will have to realize that this is Felix language for ‘it is a crime that you aren’t cuddling me rn’.

- Obviously Sylvain gets lots of physical contact with women but I don’t ever see it as holding affection yknow?? Like yeah he spends a night or two with chicks after them crest babies™️ (i cannot take myself seriously this sentence is so funny-), but I don’t really think that they’ve done actual cuddling or casual displays of affection like petting someone’s hair because they likely don’t care too much for Sylvain and will just do the bare minimum. So in a way, Sylvain is also starved of affectionate touches and he would very much appreciate the little things that no one else has done for him. It’s new and scary for him to actually seek romantic attention, but he’s still pretty bold, just not very tactful when it comes to you lol. If you’re sitting by yourself on a bench he will not hesitate to sprawl himself out on top of you with his head in your lap and stare up at you with an innocent grin. Is also lowkey not embarrassed to whine or pester you?? His reputation is pretty hopeless at this point so what does he have to lose by sitting behind you in class and poking you while dramatically whining about you not paying attention to him?

- Attention is a huge deal to Sylvain. It’s one of the main things he’s looking for when he randomly flirts with people at the monastery. He can’t handle being ignored and that leads him to often seek many girls at once so that he always has attention when one is busy. But when it comes to you he finds himself in deep shit because once he’s gotten a little bit from you, everyone else seems minuscule and with others he only receives a mere fraction of the satisfaction he gets from being with you. So he’s gradually allotting more and more time to you until he hardly talks to any other girl. But Sylvain is used to being the one that everyone wants more of, so when he finds himself in the shoes of the smitten women that piss him off, he’s plagued by the worry that you’ll think he’s overly needy. So he comes to seek validation from you too. If he can just get you to comb your fingers through his hair or give him a kiss on the cheek then he can renew his confidence in trying to court you.

- Dimi is somewhat similar but for different reasons and in different ways. Dimitri has practically no experience with romance so he’s extremely smitten and has an overwhelming desire for the affection you give him that he’s never had. But he’s painfully aware of how extreme his feelings are in comparison to any other couples he may have seen at the monastery, and he’s terrified that he’ll scare you away if he expresses exactly how much he yearns for you. So Dimitri is always very visibly holding back much like he often holds back his strength. Dimi will do anything for you or with you, but you have to initiate it so he can be certain that he’s not smothering you. On days where he’s extremely lovey and never wants to let go of you (which is kind of often lol) he will constantly ask if you’re sure that he’s not bothering you. He is just so horrified at the thought of messing up whatever it is you have.

- Felix will be very easily overwhelmed by you, so it’s much better if you wait to cuddle up to him until you can both go to one of your rooms. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be touched, he does, but his feelings for you make him way too vulnerable for his liking, so he’s not going to want anyone else around. Felix is still Felix and he goes off to take out his feelings in the training grounds every free day, but has started occasionally coming to your room when he’s done for the day and receiving his required cuddle time away from prying eyes. He may have accidentally fallen asleep with you a couple times..

- You’ve probably snuck in to sleep in Dimi’s room on occasions when he’s dangerously sleep deprived. The man, the myth, the legend Dedue would definitely help sneak you in because he knows it does Dimi a lot of good. Dimitri is able to fall asleep with you practically on top of him in his grasp. Feeling your heartbeat close by and your hair beneath his head and hearing you breath peacefully is enough to ground him from his fear of losing you too. He’ll still have nightmares, trauma is a bitch, but when you’re there you can bring him back down and he’ll eventually be able to fall back to sleep (which he typically can’t do alone). It’s not a perfect night’s sleep, but it’s enough to keep Dimi functional and that’s what you’re there for. He’ll thank you a million times and unnecessarily apologize for the inconvenience, please do what you can to reassure him that he’s not a nuisance to you. 

- SIGH Sylvain, this god damn silly little goose, is extremely distressed by his feelings for you and even moreso by his developed neediness. It honestly kinda scares the shit out of him to realize he’s whipped for someone and at a loss for a way to ask you out. He’s used to having that power, to have someone’s feelings in the palm of his hand where he can do anything he wants. Genuinely trying to figure out how he would court someone is a frightening new thing for him and he’s suddenly on a playing field where he doesn’t have his experience or his power to shield himself with. So he reverts to his old ways to try to get a handle on his fear and have his confidence boosted back up. But of course, Syl still wants all the attention he can get from you so you so he spends all of the day with you, then does his other girl bullshit at night! It doesn’t go as smoothly as planned though..Sylvain is used to being yelled at by crying girls, but it hasn’t gone unnoticed that he ignores them all day and drops by whenever he feels like it, and he ends up getting in some pretty nasty arguments that do not help his already vulnerable state. So it’s like 2 AM and Sylvain’s feeling like a sorry sack of potatoes and just wants to be held by someone and talk until falling asleep in their arms. And there’s only one person who Sylvain wouldn’t mind being open with and who could provide him genuine comfort..and you’re the lucky winner of the ‘Sylvain on your doorstep at 2 AM’ lottery!! Unless your sleep schedule is wack you’re gonna be all groggy like hey uhh wtf Syl??? And that is how the occasional nights that Sylvain falls asleep in your room happen!

- If the 3 of these scenarios interfere with each other ummmmmmmmm no they didn’t 😳

Ok! That’s where I’m leaving off because I don’t want to try to write endings with you picking one of them it just makes me kinda sad LMAO. Bro omg it’s the return of the ridiculously long Allister fics she do be goin a little insane though 😳 But for real I’ve been gradually adding to this for like?? a week? And I just kept picking cute relationship milestones or whatever in my walnut brain and writing a point for each of them so that the 3 of them are equally written. So it might not line up perfectly but I hope you like it!!