#i think they (he?) had white hair if that helps

[ramp-it-up]

Good Morning

Summary: You leave bed before Bucky can say good morning.

Word count: 1.8 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This drabble is in the Knock You Down AU, and is the answer to this ask. Please let me know how you feel by commenting, reblogging, and interacting. 😉

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Frumoasă is pregnant, Bucky is feral. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

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_____

If Bucky could mainline you straight to his veins, he would. He woke up feening and alone.

The moment he stepped into his en suite that morning, which was your bathroom now too, a primal pull drew him on a string to you. 

You were standing at the mirror trying to tame your hair in just white cotton panties and Bucky’s dress shirt from the day before, partly for use as a robe, but mostly for his smell.

At the sight of you in his shirt, diamond on your finger, pregnant with his child, something in his chest tightened. 

Mine he thought.

You tried to focus on fixing your hair, but the weight of his gaze on you in the mirror was distracting as hell. There were a few other things that had changed about you in the last few weeks: your appetite, your energy level, but the best and the worst was your sex drive.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured, meeting his gaze in the mirror and trying to pretend you didn’t want him to slut you out. 

“Sorry,” offered Bucky, who was leaning on the wall behind you, smirking and probably reading your mind. 

He was definitely not sorry.

“Can’t help it, Frumoasă.”

You raised an eyebrow at him over your shoulder at his cracked voice.

“You can’t?”

You destroyed him with a look. He couldn’t take how beautiful you were. You standing there, no makeup, all that hair, his white shirt and panties. He never knew that Jockey that made lingerie to turn him on, but here you were.

And Bucky was so weak for you.

“No. I can’t. You’re too beautiful.”

But the way he was looking at you, eyes burning you, that tongue peeking out of his mouth as if recalling your taste on his lips; it made you shiver. 

Bucky strode toward you, so gotdamn handsome in the mirror that you didn’t want to turn around and see the real thing.

He was clad only in low slung grey sweatpants, the bulge in them growing by the second, his abs standing out, his tiny nipples erect. The medal on his golden skin gleamed and you longed to bite it between your teeth as he stroked his thick cock inside you.

Bucky Barnes’ blue gaze had you in a chokehold.

Fuck, you wished he would choke you while he fucked you hard, but he stopped with the breath play the moment he found out you were pregnant.

Your eyes glazed over and your mouth dropped open in a small pant as your pussy clenched down on nothing, thinking of how Bucky handled you on his cock.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Frumoasă?” Bucky teased, eyes locked on you when you turned your dreamy eyes on him. 

You pretended you didn’t notice and refocused on arranging your curls. The sharp points of your breasts under his shirt might have been a clue however, and if he could see between your legs, he might have ascertained a wet spot. 

Bucky’s voice was low and rough around the edges as he moved closer to you, watching as you as your fingers pulled through your hair again, your arms akimbo and offering the perfect view of your body.

He also didn’t miss the smile that played on your lips after what he asked. He knew what you were thinking.

Your hands fell from your thick hair to your hips and your eyes zeroed in on his bulge.

“My eyes are up here, Baby.”

Bucky’s firm hands were sliding over your hips now, pulling you back against him. His lips brushed your shoulder. 

Slow. Lazy. Possessive.

His hands moved to your belly, his fingers spreading possessively over the softness there. There was only the slightest change, but Bucky noticed everything. His breath moved over your neck and made you shiver as he kept eye contact in the mirror.

“Bucky… got to get ready,” you murmured, trying to ignore the way his fingers smoothed down the curve of your waist. 

“Not yet…” 

A hand slid under the hem of the shirt. You inhaled shakily. 

“I woke up, and you weren’t in bed.” 

His voice was low, rough, and thick with desire. 

You swallowed hard. 

“Because I was getting ready to—“

 “You’re supposed to be in my arms,” he interrupted.

His words sent heat through your body as his hands tightened on your hips. And you felt him, hard, ready, and pressing against you from behind. 

You gripped the vanity with trembling fingers. He chuckled, his hips pressing into you. 

“You’re wearing my shirt, looking like this, carrying my baby. You’re killing me,” he looked up at you in the mirror those blue eyes destroying your soul.

“You know that right? You drive me crazy,” he murmured, voice thick with need as his hands glided higher over your ribs, fingertips tracing the sensitive skin beneath your breasts. 

You gasped, body weak against the hard planes of his torso and Bucky groaned, his large hands extending and gripping your nipples gently. He rolled them lightly, his hands working under his shirt, and a moan escaped you. 

“Fuck, you’re sensitive, aren’t you?” 

You didn’t have time to respond before he spun you around, lifted you on top of the counter, and stepped between your legs. Bucky’s hands slid up your thighs, pushing them wider. 

And just like that, going out was forgotten because Bucky was between your legs, his long, hard cock pressing against your melting pussy, kissing you like he was starving. His palms were hot on your skin, fingers gripping, claiming, and dragging you closer. 

You gasped into his mouth, and he deepened the hot, slow, and delicious kiss like you two had all the time in the world. 

Like he wanted to devour you.

“Bucky, Baby—” 

You barely got his name out before his fingers tightened, and suddenly your back was pressed to the mirror, legs wrapped around his waist, body caged in by his. He grabbed the hem of the shirt and yanked it open, baring your skin to his. 

You shivered at the way his eyes darkened as they swept over you, hunger rolling off him.

“Shoulda stayed in bed, baby,” he murmured, trailing his lips down your neck and his hands spreading you wider. 

“I was going to meet Peach for brunch,” you whimpered. 

In the back of your mind, you were certain that this was a plan between him and Steve to keep you both in the house after what happened in Atlanta after New Years. 

Bucky chuckled, his breath hot against your skin and his teeth grazing your collarbone. 

“I’m sure she’s busy as well.” 

You shook your head and smirked as his mouth moved lower, dragging down your stomach, over your hip, until he was kneeling between your legs.

“Can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed, his voice dropping into a rough whisper as he looked up at you with those baby blues.

“About this body. About what we made together. About how deep a part of me lives inside you.”

His hand drifted over your stomach, then slid down to the waistband of your panties, teasing.

Your breath hitched, “Bucky!” 

His palmed your clit and slipped three fingers along the cut of you, playing in your slick, teasing. 

“So fucking wet. Here, taste.”

And he inserted his wet fingers into your mouth. Your eyes closed as you sucked yourself off of him, but they flew open when you felt something sharp and cold against your skin. 

Bucky had picked up your hair shears from the vanity and was using them to cut your panties off.

“James!”

Bucky outright laughed as you moved your mouth and prepared to gripe at him, until he got on his knees. He settled between your legs, pushing between them with his shoulders and stared at you.

You were glistening, slick and swollen, your body so fucking ready for him. 

He dragged his wet fingers through your folds, pressing just enough to make your breath catch, just enough to make your hips jerk up.

You were desperate for more. 

“Look at you,” he murmured, watching you fall apart. 

You whimpered, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. He slid a finger inside you, slow and deep, watching as you gasped, your body clenching around him. 

“So tight. So fucking perfect.” 

Bucky added another, stretching, preparing, feeling your pussy adjust to him. 

You moaned, arched, writhed, and it was the most beautiful fucking thing Bucky had ever seen. 

He leaned forward and dragged his tongue through your slick heat, tasting, devouring, and feeling your body tremble under his grip. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, gripping, and begging for more.

“Please, Bucky, please!!!”

Your fiancé smirked into your pussy. 

“Impatient?”

You whimpered, your hips jerking as he held you down, licking slowly, deeply, watching you come undone.

“You’re perfect like this,” he mumbled into your cunt.

At this point, you were shaking and gasping. Bucky didn’t stop until you were arching off the vanity, crying out his name, legs shaking around his head as you came.

He wiped his mouth as he watched you come down and trying to close your legs although he still had one thigh in his grip.

Your drooping eyes widened as he lowered the waistband of his sweats, pulled you forward by your hip, and lined himself up.

“Need more. Need to be inside you.” 

“Please!”

It was an over stimulated plea, but it died on your lips in a moan. Bucky held your gaze as he pushed inside your wet, hot pussy.

“Tight,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “Fucking perfect.”

Your fingers clenched his shoulders and you let out a breathy moan, making him almost lose it right there. Bucky sunk deeper, feeling your body stretch to accommodate him.

“That’s it, mama. Take every fucking inch of my fat cock.”

He groaned, burying himself to the hilt, feeling you tighten and pulse around him, sucking him in deeper. 

Bucky pulled back and thrusted back hard, watching the way you face twisted in pleasure.

“Mine.”

He said it aloud this time. 

Bucky gripped your hips, pinning you down, fucking you slow and deep. He gripped your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Eyes on me.”

His voice was rough and demanding.

“That’s it. Take me. Take all of this cock.”

Your nails dragged down his back until you were too weak to hold on, your body shuddering from wave after wave of pleasure, which spiked when the splashes of his hot cum hit the convulsing walls of your cunt.

Bucky held you tight and kissed the top of your head.

“You don’t leave the bed without saying good morning.”

“Yes, Sir. Good morning, Sir.”

“Smartass. Let’s teach it a lesson.”

You thought Bucky Barnes was done.

But when you slid down to your feet, he turned you around and bent you over the sink. You felt his cock get hard again and press against your bottom.

You gasped.

“James!”

“You’re gonna be a little late for brunch, Frumoasă.”

[dpwifevein]

Batman saw the teenager enter a small church. He looked in from the window, only for the world to change. The darkness of night in the dark city swallowed everything, leaving a swirling mess of light and darkness in the church that now seemed as large as a cathedral. cathedral Batman found himself inside. The boy's black hair turned white. His body veiled with a cloak, and his legs seeming to disappear. A great scythe appears in his hands. His head turns and his once blue eyes and are now glowing a ghostly green colour. Organ music starts to play, which made Batman desperately trying to comprehend what was happening; desperately trying to think of a way out.

Just then the ghostly eyes focused on the organ, "Sam, do you have to?"

"I'm just trying to set the mood." said the goth girl. She wore a black leotard with a dark green hue, her eyes nearly occluded from makeup, as thorned vines visibly moved about the organ. And following the movement in the corner of his eyes, the vines had spread across the entire cathedral.

The ghostly eyes turned to look back at him, "Look, sorry, this was just meant to open the door. I should have known you've already walked through one."

"Where - are we?" Kevin Conroy Batman's deep voice asked.

"I call it the Ghost Zone, that doesn't doesn't really do a good job of describing it." He looked over to Sam, and sighed, as she continued to play. He looked back to Batman, "Sorry, she's just a bit of a drama queen."

"Gotham's Dark Knight is speaking to the Ghost King." Sam added.

"So, it's real?" Batman asked.

"As real as any ghost is." Danny nonchalantly replied, "I can't exactly say I'm the best king, but the last one was the worst." He then shrugged. In the blink of Batman's unblinking eye he moved towards him as if the space between them did not exist. If Batman had not trained with Giovanni Zatara, and his daughter, there's no way he would have noticed the space seem the warp between the two locations. The boy would have simply appeared in front of him. He turned to glare at the young man. The scythe disappeared, and he held out his right hand.

"What do you want with Gotham?" Batman uttered.

"That's easy." the young Ghost King said, no older than Red Robin. "Your city has a lot of... I guess we can call them ghosts."

"Spirits?" Batman asked, "Demons?"

"They are all really the same." Danny simply replied, and stepped back, without his legs moving. Even without legs. He seemed to just float there. "Tolkien called mortality the Gift of Men. It allows change. Every 20 years, the world of Men is different."

"And for - the spirits?" Batman asked.

"Some are incapable of change, and for others, time does not even pass. In the - Ghost Zone, past and future are one and the same. Without Sam, and the others, the last grasps of reality would slip through my fingers, like falling sand or floating mist."

He slowly floated back towards Batman, holding out his hand.

"And if I take your hand, what happens to me?" Batman harshly asked.

"We shake - and then let go." Danny simply stated. "Your mind is a fortress that not even my wail could penetrate. As I said, I should have known you've done this before."

"That doesn't mean I want to repeat it." Batman harshly uttered, the organ music seeming to reach a crescendo.

"And that's why I'm here." Danny uttered.

"To take over Gotham?" Batman nearly spat.

"Take over?" Danny asked, "You seem to think I have some attachment to this mortal world."

"Then - tell me - why - are you here?!" Batman shouted.

"To help the ghosts of the past come to rest." Danny simply stated. "I'll leave those with the Gift of Men in your hands."

The energy of the organ started to slowly fall, "Do you have to say it like that?" Sam asked, and Danny turned to look at her, and in that instant they both look so utterly ordinary and banal.

"I think we can trust Tolkien when it comes to English." Danny replied, and Sam rolled her eyes. Danny turned back to Batman. "We managed to calm the ghosts of my hometown." he simply stated, "I needed to find some place," he said, and looking between the windows, as if he could see reality beyond the jet-black frames. He then looked back to Batman, "Gotham is an - interesting - place."

"That's one way to put it." Batman crumbled.

"What if - a number of your problems weren't actually crazy?" the nascent Ghost King asked.

"Arkham would beg to differ." Batman grumbled.

"What if the things they saw were... well, not real?" the nascent Ghost King asked, "But as real as I am?"

Batman's eyes instantly grew distant. Anyone doing any research into the arcane knew that those not properly grounded in reality could often see more than what others could. Children, the fevered brains, and insanity. "Is that what the scythe is for?" Batman harshly asked.

"It lets me separate spirits, if some of them is overshadowing, or getting a little too involved in someone."

"And, if you use it on a living person?" Batman asked.

"I can give them a temporary out of body experience." he replied.

"That's it?" Batman asked.

"I know this is had to believe." he said, and turned to the organ as the music came to an end. He then looked Batman back in his eyes, "We have our own rich backers, and so all we really need is an abandoned church."

"Lovely what you've done with the place." Batman sardonically stated.

"Thank you." Samantha replied, as she stood up from the organ, and walked over, the vines seeming to follow her as if they were pets. "Why don't you stop by some time for tea?"

"We could take you to Scáthach's Fortress of Shadow." the nascent Ghost King added. "The cliffs are hauntingly beautiful."

"I don't know if you know this, but I'm a busy man." Batman harshly uttered.

"And I know you are also charitable." the Ghost King replied, "You can stop by, and donate to our food bank."

"Food bank?" Batman dismissed, and a man walked out with a black shirt and pants, grey blazer, and white, clerical collar.

"We are a small church, but we have a group of Blackfriars to run the soup kitchen."

"Dominicans?" Batman asked, and looked around the wyrd cathedral. "Wouldn't they be a bit - uncomfortable working here?"

"They are mendicants." the priest replied. "They go where those who need them most are."

"So, they've given up comfort?" Batman asked.

"Those that come here are often plagued by things they cannot comprehend." the priest continued.

"And that's where the Ghost King comes in?" Batman asked.

The nascent Ghost King simply shrugged. "Crime Alley is where they need help the most."

With that, Batman's life flashed before his eyes.

* * *

Bruce Wayne walked through the small church's front door, and when he stepped inside he was in the cathedral, the windows were occluded by darkness, and he was once again Batman. He quickly looked around in desperation.

"Like I said," the nascent Ghost called to him as he appeared form the ether, "your mind is like a fortress. How many other people in Gotham have that kind of discipline?"

The look of betrayal appeared on Batman's dark face.

"The Blackfriars honestly do not care who Bruce Wayne is." the Ghost King replied, "Other than the fact you want to help them feed the poor."

Batman thought this over. "I have one condition." he stated, and the Ghost King smiled at him, "The Martha Wayne foundation has programmes to help people get off the street."

"You want to put a flyer on the bulletin board?" the Ghost King asked.

"You know who am I?" Batman asked, "But who are you?"

"I honestly don't know." the Ghost King replied, "But Jazz is helping me figure that part out. Let's head to Ireland for tea."

[lostintransist]

The Boys' Home | Part 6

*If you asked to be on a tag list and you haven't been, please ask again. Somtimes I think Tumblr eats my comments.

Part 1 | AO3

You loved them. Swear to any God you love your boys but FUCK! Sometimes the urging from childhood, the lizard brain screaming for peace, made it really hard to not lose your mind at them. All four of your boys were whining, fighting, and being a general nuance to each other and you. The grocery store would never be the place for them to fight like this.

Once a week during the summer you had to make a grocery run. Four growing boys at home every day meant they roved through any accessible food like locusts. If your local store offered pickup you would pay a decent amount to use it. It would save you from days like this.

Seth, at eleven, should have known better than to let Darren, at six, cause him so much distress. But being a preteen is a bit like being in hell so who knew how much he could hold back the yelling? Darren also fought with Sam, also six, and Reggie, ten.

Frankly, they all needed a nap and would argue they didn’t. The full moon incoming tonight helped only to fuel the chaos in their small bodies.

They had argued over who got to sit where and then during the drive over Reggie looked too long at Darren who screamed about the offense. Sam had started screaming that Darren was being too loud and then Seth tried to make them stop, by yelling. The nitpicking and annoyance at the others existing continued into the store. Halfway down the freezer aisle and that much closer to freedom. Glancing down at your list you curse in your head— you forgot about the milk and butter you needed. Of course, those marketing masochists had to put them in the back corner of the building.

As always you made note of where your boys were in relation to each other, the cart, and any other customers. Not many people in the freezer section today; a teenager who slowly read labels through the glass, two old men, shock white hair figuring them to be grandfather age, and the one man in a hat who ran numbers on the calculator on his phone.

Pushing the cart, and all four boys who have lost the privileges of walking without holding on, just beyond the freezer you needed you turned your focus away for two hells-damned seconds. No sooner than the blast of chilled air cooled against your skin than the yelling started.

The crinkle of the vegetable bag below your fingers did not drown out the sound of a different plastic screaming and small, roundish objects hitting the ground. Side-stepping and slamming the door shut you held back the yell by the thinnest of margins.

“Boys!” The mom voice came out in full force. “Enough! Clean up every grape you spilled.”

Four panicked faces stared up at you.

“Now!”

They scrambled to pick up each of what now appeared to be one hundred-plus tiny fruits rolling away in every direction. Movement had you looking up from the offending mess you see every man but one disappearing around the corner. You would call them cowards but you were interrupted.

“Powerful mum voice you have there,” John remarked as he watched your boys pick up every grape flung wide in their tomfoolery.

Glancing at your new neighbor you gauge the sarcasm as low. The tilt of his brows reads more as impressed and slightly annoyed than anything else.

“It’s a talent. My mom voice is stronger than my teacher voice.”

When Sam lifted a handful of grapes, bad intentions in his eyes, you let out two quick hisses of air. All the boys paused and glanced at you. Everyone but Sam turned back to their task as they realized they were not the child in trouble. Eye contact with your boy and a quick head shake were enough of a redirect to avoid further problems.

“Never could quite figure out how my mum could call us all to order so easily. Watching you do it makes me wonder which is stronger, my captain voice or your mom voice.” John has now joined you as the boys scoop and deliver their mistreated goods back into the bag.

A light smile drifts over your lips, even as your chest remains tight.

“I bet the mom voice would work well on your Johnny, and probably Kyle. Jury’s out on Simon,” you wink when John catches your eye. “Bet if I caught you with it I would get a reaction though.”

John let out a belly laugh, big enough to drift. An older woman toddled past the other end of the aisle. Well guess the conversation would be town-wide by desert.

“You know what? I’ll take your bet. What are you offering?”

The boys were nearly done. Thinking fast you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“If I win you agree to man the grill for the neighborhood meetup you can make it to. Next one is in two weeks.”

They were always hosted at your house, which is fine but that meant you were in charge of the grill. Mostly you were in charge of the grill because the last time any of the men had touched it they left it so gross you banned them from touching it again. You hated cooking meat. It freaked you out that everything might not be fully cooked.

Folding his arms John nodded slowly, as if thinking it over.

“Seems like a good offer. If I win I ask for deserts for our next poker night.”

A fair offer. Equal in labor, skill, and expectation as to what you would demand as your winnings.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” offering John your hand, you shake on it.

“Got a good grip there teach,” he patted you on the shoulder.

Something about that interaction tickled your brain. But as the boys were finally finished cleaning up the mess they had made you needed to leave it.

“Good. Hands on the cart,” you fired off the command.

“But mom!” Seth cried, affronted in only a way an eleven-year-old can be.

“But Seth!” You whined back before dropping into a deadpan expression. “Kid we have two things left to grab. You can grab the cart or I can ask John here to take you home.”

Neither looked terribly impressed with the option. They made eye contact before Seth grabbed the wire of the cart with a sigh.

John lifts a brow at you.

“Welcome to small towns John. You can and will be used as punishment by other people’s parenting,” you reply with a shrug and a grin. “Alright boys, let’s go.”

He chuckles behind you as you push your full cart and the four dour-faced children who want nothing to do with the buzzing lights of the store. Once the milk and butter were secured the boys convinced you to buy some popcorn. Shareable snack acquired you were able to direct the chaos toward check out.

This step moved fast. Seth and Reggie both scampered to the end of the second conveyor belt and bagged all the groceries the cashier sent their way. Darren and Sam touch every fucking thing within their limited reach until you threaten them with getting put in the cart.

Mary Ann is your cashier today. She had been one of your students two years ago, passing math and even taking online math courses through the community college two towns over. Her dad, Richard, talked about her going off to a fancy college once her associates were done. You had offered to write her a letter of recommendation if ever she needed or wanted it. Mary Ann was a good kid. She might now be twenty but until you were dead, she would be one of your kids.

“Heard you snapping at the boys in the freezer aisle. Everything going okay?” Her hands don’t stop moving even as Mary Ann asks the question.

The eye roll is unstoppable.

“The hooligans need a nap,” Darren and Sam start to protest but you ignore them and finish your sentence. “There was an incident with the grapes. We got it all cleaned up though.”

“Oh good,” Mary Ann scanned the last item and tapped a few buttons on her side. “Your total is—”

She got cut off by Reggie wailing like a hot brand had been taken to his ass.

Slamming your card against the reader you cursed the heartbeats until it beeped. Reggie was now screaming for you and Seth was yelling. Once the awful beep that always made you think your card declined sounded you were snatching Sam and Darren by the hands and snapping at Seth and Reggie to ‘push the fucking cart and if you don’t quit screaming in here.’

The violence of their voices continues. Reaching the van you turn it on, plug in your phone, turn on the most bass-heavy song you can find in a short glance, and up the volume. Seth and Reggie climb in first, to the way back followed by Sam and Darren who click themselves into their booster seats. They all know that if you are turning on the bass it is to drown them all out and screaming will do nothing but cause you to roll the windows down and turn the volume up even higher.

Was it good parenting? No. But it kept you from wrecking the fucking van so it wasn’t the worst choice you could make. Loading the groceries in the back you give in to your anger a tiny bit and slam the door closed. Angrily stalking the cart back to the corral and sending it careening in also helps a bit.

Parenting is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and most of that comes from confronting your own damn issues. Sometimes though? It is hard because it’s hard to be near a person learning to be a person.

Each child is given a bag or two to take inside and deposit on the counter before they are free to disappear into the woods or up to their rooms. The absence of them in your space and face lets you take the deepest breath and scream into your hands. The small bones shake from the force of your yelling.

“Okay. You can do this. Fuck, the full moon is tonight and then you should get your children who don’t hate that someone breathed near them back.” Taking another deep breath you start putting everything away, still talking to yourself. “We can have chicken nuggets, mac’n’cheese, and salad. Popcorn and a movie before bed and then a large glass of something for me.”

Face in the freezer as you rearranged everything to fit as Simon’s voice from outside scared you into a shriek.

“Do you always talk to yourself?”

Boys Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @harperstyles @sigynxlokiwifelover @fluffysmiko @lily-bug3 @demothers-empty-blog @literallegendicon

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration—not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

[enzosbabyangel]

৻ꪆ Thinking about stepdad!Fred Weasley…

cw: smut, age gap(readers 20, Freds 41), cheating, MINORS DNI, 18+

a/n: originally posted on my old blog as a response to an ask asking for stepdad!Fred. Not proofread just copied and pasted

Your mom. God you loved her, but she really wasn’t the best lady. Every night you heard her with a random hookup. It was a never ending cycle for as long as you could remember.

‘Was’ being the keyword here. When she started her new job at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, she met one of the owners, Fred Weasley. A surprisingly successful man for someone running a joke shop. and a bloody hot man at that. She quickly fell for him and he managed to help her get her life back together, falling for each other during so. Eventually they got together then married about a year later. You were seventeen at the time, so that was three years ago. Fred was older than your mom by a few years, being forty-one now in current times.

And god, you loved your mom. But you couldn’t manage to think enough to stop your actions or deny how disgustingly good it felt when the same man rearranges your guts while she slept in the next room,

“Fuck…. s’your tight lil cunt hugging me like a vice,” The older man said through a breathy chuckle. Large hands holding the back of your thighs as your legs were pushed up, your knees practically next to your head.

You bit your lip as you looked at the man holding your legs. No, not just ‘the man’, your step dad, your mother’s husband. The entire situation was taboo for multiple different reasons, but fuck you loved it.

You let out a pathetic, soft moan as you glanced down to where the two of you connected, feeling him slowly drag through your walls. tears falling from your eyes at the delicious stretch of your walls and the soft touch that’s going in the shape of ‘o’s on your clit.

“C’mon you gotta loosen up a bit sweetheart.” He said, his sweet tone not matching the taboo situation. Free hand moving up to your face, wiping away your tears as he continued to slowly move. “I don’t fuck you for a month and you get all tight on me again… Maybe you should visit more?” He said with a smirk, tone slightly teasing, eyes darting down to your lips as his hand moved to where he was looking. His thumb pushing your bite swollen and wet bottom lip down slightly as he admired how easily he made you look like a mess.

You moaned at his words, getting tighter around him for a second before attempting to relax. You looked up at him with doe eyes, making eye contact with him. Silently pleading with your eyes for a kiss and preferably an increase in pace.

He groaned at your watery, wide eyes staring up at him. “You know what you do to me when you look up at me like that?” He asked rhetorically. Knowing that you knew damn well the effect you had on the older man. He moved your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he moved down, his arms resting on both sides of your head as his lips connected with yours, resting his bodyweight on his knees and forearms. His hips gradually starting to thrust faster.

You could feel every twitch of his cock as it dragged along your walls. his pace slowish as he pulled out though thrusts almost punishing as he quickly slammed himself back into you, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy part in you. Making you let out loud moans through the kiss, hands moving from his hair to his clothed back, pulling and scratching at the white shirt as his pace continuously sped up. The bed creaking with his actions.

You tried having a hookup with some guy since you’ve left for college, but none of them felt as good as Fred. Guys your age didn’t have the same skill and experience as him. You were unapologetically whipped for him and his cock, and he knew that and took pride in it. “Bet no other guys can fuck you like i can? hm?” Fred asked, pulling away from the kiss as he looked down at you. his hands planting themselves on your hips, making you meet his thrusts. His typical, confident smirk on his face. “Got you addicted to ya step dad’s cock don’t i?”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

[halsteadlover]

𝐀𝐧 𝐔𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested by @hart-kinsella: Basically, the fan fic could be set at one of Jay's Intelligence colleagues' wedding and mc is one of the bride's closest friends; the bride wants to set her up with one hot cop (could also be one who works on patrol). It could either be that the 'chosen' guy is not Jay, but then mc and Jay naturally connect at the reception (maybe through her wanting to avoid the guy she's set up with) or Jay being the 'set up' guy from minute 1 and them just meeting there (with the usual embaressement that comes from friends insisting you should get together) and hitting it off immediately.

• Warnings: curse words/strong language, mention of alcohol consumption, lots of tension and physical contact, heavy making out, suggestive at the end.

• Word count: 8.8k

• A/N: PLEASE READ ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ DUE TO SUGGESTIVE THEMES. The way I was so excited about this fic but I reread it and now I hate it why am I like this 😭 Let me know in the comments what do you think about this one, I love you all ❤️

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you said to Kim as you watched her sip the champagne from her glass, her huge ring shining against the lights of the room.

She was radiant, a smile plastered on her lips as wide as you had ever seen her in all the time you were friends. She was happy and your heart exploded with joy seeing her finally have her happy ending with Adam, especially after everything they’ve been through.

She looked beautiful in her white wedding dress and you couldn’t hide the tears of happiness you shed when you saw her walk down the aisle, a radiant smile on her lips. Adam looked at her with eyes so bright and full of love it made you wonder if there’d ever be someone who’d look at you like that, as if you were the only person who mattered, as if without you he couldn’t even breathe.

“Of course it’s a good idea! There’s nothing better than a blind date with a hot cop,” she finished sipping her champagne and set it down on the tray as a waiter walked by, thanking him immediately after. “You don’t trust me? Have I ever let you down on the men front?”

You didn’t respond, just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay there might’ve been some unfortunate meetings but this won’t be the case. Please, please, please. I swear he’s a really cute and good guy!” She begged, putting on her cute puppy face that not even the devil could resist.

Little bitch.

You sighed and rolled your eyes and that was enough to make her clap her hands with joy. “Only because it’s your day.”

“You won’t regret it, I promise.”

The fact was you were already regretting it.

You had never been very good at blind dates, you hated not knowing who you were going to talk to and spend the evening with, you wanted to be able to decide first if you liked that person. What if you didn’t like him, or if he didn’t like you? It would’ve been very awkward.

Actually, it was. It was definitely awkward.

Kim had pointed out from afar a man who was talking to Adam—ignoring how the latter was watching Kim without ever taking his eyes off her even while talking to other people—and you took your time to observe him.

He was a tall man, from behind you noticed his ash blonde hair and a statuesque body that was embraced by a tuxedo. Without even saying anything, Kim grabbed your hand and dragged you towards them, ignoring your signs of protest.

You were so nervous and you hated it.

And it certainly didn’t help that Kim had made it her mission to pair you up with someone, since you were the only single girl in your group of friends.

But you were happy, you weren’t lonely, you were fine being alone and that was important, you didn’t need a man by your side to determine your happiness. You defined your own happiness.

“Hi babe,” Kim greeted her husband, who smiled before sliding his arm around her hips and kissing her. The two of them were so in love it was almost disgusting. “Sorry I was rude. Caleb, I wanted you to meet my friend.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you felt the man’s gaze on you. “Oh so you’re the famous Y/n right? I’ve heard so much about you.”

God please have mercy.

“I hope only good things,” you replied with a smile and offered him your hand, which he immediately shook. The way his eyes moved up and down your body made your skin crawl, and the smirk he had plastered across his lips as he looked at you didn’t suggest anything good.

You pulled your hand away, forcing a smile as he started to speak, and cursed both Kim and Adam when you saw them sneak away, both giggling as they left you alone with that guy.

As they say, a woman’s sixth sense is like a gift, it never fails.

And it didn’t even take half an hour of talking to Caleb to realize he was self-centered and you’d never see him again. He talked your ear off as if you’d known each other your whole life, focusing mostly on him, his work, the gym, his exploits. You nodded every now and then, just to give him the impression you were listening when in reality your mind had dissociated after the first ten minutes of conversation.

And by conversation you obviously meant monologue.

He didn’t ask you anything, and by nothing you really meant nothing, not how old you were, your job, your hobbies, in short the simple questions one asks when one is getting to know another.

You looked around bored, cursing Kim and yourself with every fiber of your being for letting yourself being dragged—for the million time— in a situation you didn’t want to be in.

You decided you’d never take a single piece of her advice about men ever again.

“Once, when I was still on patrol, there was a robbery a few blocks away. I was alone and when I got there the thief was already running. I’ll make this short but even the commander congratulated me…”

You were trying really hard to listen to him but every time you tried to pay attention, he was still talking about himself. It was hard to follow his conversation/monologue without being fascinated by some random spot in the room like the chandelier.

Caleb was a beautiful man, that was objective. He was tall, broad-shouldered, he had a sculpted physique, defined jaw, eyes as blue as the sky. But beauty wasn’t everything, not when his character was similar to a mollusk.

“Hey baby, here you are, I’ve been looking for you for a while,” a male voice reached your ears from behind and you almost had a heart attack when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. You snapped your head towards the man, finding yourself in front of one of the most beautiful man you’d ever see.

Forget Caleb, who the hell was this man?

You froze, having no idea what to say or do. Who the hell was he? What did he want?

“Sorry it took so long but the line for the bathroom was endless,” the stranger continued and you tried with every fiber of your being to remain impassive. Your body was tense as a violin string as you tried to subtly move away from his grasp.

Breathtaking or not, you didn’t know him.

“Baby? You have a boyfriend? Kim told me you were single,” Caleb exclaimed almost indignantly, alternating his gaze between you and the stranger. You thanked God he was a second-rate cop and had the detective skills of a hamster or he would’ve seen from a mile away this was the first time you’d seen that man around you.

“Oh, well this is pretty new not many people know about us, but we’ve been seeing each other for a while. Thanks for keeping my girlfriend company—”

“Caleb.”

“Carl. Thanks,” the stranger held out a hand and Caleb looked at it before looking back at you and walking away without a word, a furious expression on his face.

You didn’t even bother following him because damn, you were so relieved you got him out of the way.

The stranger’s gaze was on you even though he had removed his arm from around you.

“Well, I guess you need to work on your acting skills but it went well right?”

You widened your eyes, still confused about what the hell was going on. “Who are you?”

“Oh you’re welcome, I didn’t just save you from the most boring date of your life,” he smirked.

You continued to look at him, confused, embarrassed and unable to form a coherent sentence. Who the hell was this man? And why was he so breathtakingly handsome? And why did he just pretend to be your boyfriend?

He held out a hand towards you, a smirk plastered across his lips, acting like he hadn’t just pretended to be in a relationship with a stranger. “I’m Jay Halstead. You must be Y/n right? It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Jay? Why does this sound familiar?

You widened your eyes, not even trying to hide your expression of fear and shock. “How do you know my name?” You asked, taking a step back, ready to run away.

His gaze softened, understanding he must’ve really looked like a stalker. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, I work with Kim in Intelligence. She mentioned you a couple of times and I assumed it was you since you’re the only one of her friends I’ve never met.”

Then you realized why his name was familiar to you. Kim—when talking about her job—had sometimes mentioned a ‘Jay’ and it was nice to finally be able to associate the face with that name, especially if the face was that one.

God he’s so hot.

“Listen,” he continued, raising his hands in surrender, a drink in the left one, “I’m not a stalker I swear—I came off in the wrong way. I just saw you from afar while you were talking to Carl, and you seemed to be in trouble so I thought I’d help. Let’s start over, shall we?”

You tried not to chuckle at the way he got Caleb’s name wrong and stared at him for a moment. He maintained eye contact, his irises locked on yours with no sign of changing direction. You had only just noticed how green his eyes were and you didn’t know why, but something inside you made you no longer want to run away.

You nodded and he smiled triumphantly and, God, he had one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen. He held out a hand to you again. “I’m Jay, nice to meet you.”

You tried to suppress a smile of your own and you clasped his hand. “It’s Y/n, the pleasure is mine.”

That handshake sent a spark up your entire arm, not in the cliché kind of way, but in the way that made you feel your body suddenly enveloped in a wave of heat.

He didn’t let go of your hand right away, but you didn’t care. You liked it, you liked the way his grip was strong, firm, confident, but his touch soft at the same time. You liked how his palm felt rough against yours but his skin was warm, a stark contrast to yours.

His thumb skimmed against the back of your hand before he pulled it away, bringing the glass to his lips with his other hand and taking a sip of his drink. All without him ever breaking eye contact with you.

This single innocent gesture left you breathless.

Did I mention he’s so damn hot and sexy?

He looked at you with curiosity, as if he had already decided that from now on his attention would be solely on you.

“This is the part where I have to thank you for saving me from an embarrassing date, isn’t it?”

His eyes flickered for a second on your lips as you spoke and he subtly took a deep breath, taking another sip of his drink. You pretended it didn’t affect you in the slightest even though your stomach had just flipped.

“You not filing a complaint against me is a great thank you,” Jay replied making you laugh, “and besides, I should be the one thanking Kim.”

You tilted your head slightly to the side, looking at him with a questioning expression. “Kim? Why?”

“For setting you up with the wrong guy, might’ve missed my shot otherwise.”

You burst out laughing again and rolled your eyes. “C’mon Jay, is that the best you can do?”

“Ouch,” he put his hand to his chest as if he was in pain. “That really hurt, I may be rusty but I’m not that bad c’mon.”

You smirked. “You’ll survive officer.”

“Nuh, uh. It’s detective, please.”

“My bad, I apologize Detective,” it was your turn to raise your hands in surrender. “But seriously, thank you for saving me from whatever that was.”

He smiled softly at you. “It was a pleasure. You were a couple seconds away from pulling the fire alarm to escape, I couldn’t just stay there and do nothing.”

“Oh, so you make a habit of being a knight and saving damsels in distress?”

“Nah, only the ones that are worth saving,” he replied, and you laughed, feeling that anxious and nervous feeling fade away as you continued to converse—for real this time—with Jay.

“I could’ve gotten away with it, you know,” you crossed your arms and Jay’s eyes flickered, for a millisecond, to your chest, specifically the neckline of your dress.

“Please,” he raised an eyebrow, “if he had kept talking any longer you would’ve ripped your hair out.”

“Stop you’re so dramatic, that’s not true at all,” you rolled your eyes—even though it was the truest thing you had ever heard—making him chuckle. “What’s your poison?” You nodded to his drink as he brought it to his lips and took a sip.

A teasing smile caressed his lips and then it was your turn flicking your gaze to his mouth. You had tried to resist but damn it was so hard. “Bourbon, neat. Effective right?”

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful energy. “Is efficient a new fancy way of saying banal and predictable?”

He let out a soft laugh, the sound so low and warm it made your insides squirm. “Probably,” he countered, “but it’s still a classic.” He slightly tilted his head to the side as his green eyes roamed along your body, lingering for a moment on your dress before meeting your gaze again. You felt every inch of your skin catch fire under his eyes and you couldn’t help but compare Jay’s gaze to Caleb’s, which only made your skin crawl instead. “But it’s not for you. I think you’re more of a champagne kind of woman.”

At that same moment, by pure coincidence, a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses passed not far from you. Jay stopped him and took it, before offering it to you. You blushed, before taking it, your fingers brushing against him. “Thank you.”

You lifted your glass towards him, a quiet smile playing on your lips. “To Kim and Adam,” you said.

“To Kim and Adam,” he repeated voice low and smooth. He raised his glass to meet you, the soft clink echoing between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke—his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. It was just a toast, simple and harmless, but the way he was looking at you? Nothing about it felt simple.

“So, you’re a champagne type of woman,” he smirked.

“Guilty,” you shrugged your shoulders. “But what can I say? I like little sparkle in my life.”

You took another sip of champagne and that time it was your gaze that roamed along his body, perfectly wrapped in the tux he was wearing—over the broad lines of his shoulders, the way his dress shirt stretched just right across his chest.

Man, he looked so good it had to be illegal.

When your eyes returned to his you noticed the way he clenched his jaw and the slightest twitch of his lips as he looked at you, as if he knew exactly what you were doing but didn’t mind a bit.

His fingers flexed around his glass and a sexy smirk appeared on his lips, his eyes shining like the moon in the night. He slightly tilted his head to the side, his index finger brushing along the rim of his glass in a slow, absent-minded motion—like he was thinking about something he probably shouldn’t say out loud. “A little spark huh? And here I thought I was bringing the spark.”

You giggled. Yep, actually giggled. “Oh yeah? So that’s what you’re doing?”

“If you’re asking me then I’m not doing a good job,” he retorted, with a fake sad expression acting like he just wiped a tear, “you’re hurting me so much tonight.”

“Oh, you poor thing, I’d hate to bruise that big ego of yours.” You placed a hand on his bicep and caressed it in mock comfort and, fuck, you had to use every fiber of your body to not squeeze and feel up his muscles.

He tensed under your touch, his breath hitching in his throat feeling of your hand on him.

His lips curved into a slow, lazy smile—the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he drew, his voice dropping just a notch lower. “I can take a hit. Besides…” His gaze swept over you again, slower this time—unapologetic. “Something tells me it’s worth it.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the smile threatening to break free, but to no avail. He was too good at this—too smooth, too charming, but damn if it wasn’t working.

“Careful Detective Halstead someone might think you’re flirting with me,” you smirked, taking another sip of your champagne.

He shortened the distance between you, subtly and not too noticeably, but you felt his presence, his scent enveloping you fully, more than it had done so far. “Luckily I don’t care about anyone but the person I’m talking to right now,” he replied, “and they’d be right because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

The air between you grew heavier—not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the noise of the wedding reception fading into a distant hum. You should’ve looked away, said something to break the tension, but you didn’t want to.

You’ve never felt anything like this, being so damn attracted to a man you were dying to kiss him, to touch him.

“So confident,” you murmured. You tried to keep your eyes on his, but you couldn’t, not when his mouth was not too far from yours. “And here I thought you were just being nice.”

He chuckled, his voice low and deep. “Trust me sweetheart, there’s nothing nice about what I’m thinking right now.”

You took another sip, hoping to steady the warmth curling low in your stomach. Why were your legs suddenly turning to jelly?

“So…” you started, arching a brow in an attempt to shift the focus back on him, “do you flirt like this with every girl you save, or am I just special?”

Jay’s smile widened and he took a slow sip of his bourbon before answering. “You tell me,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “Do you feel special?”

Damn him.

You laughed softly, shaking your head and taking a deep breath at the same time. “You’re trouble, Halstead.”

He didn’t deny it. “And yet, you’re still talking to me,” he pointed out, eyes gleaming with mischief. “What does that say about you?”

“That I make questionable decisions?”

Jay let out another quiet laugh, but this one felt different—lower, warmer. “Or maybe,” he murmured, leaning in a bit towards you, “you’re exactly where you want to be.”

And the truth? You weren’t sure you could argue with that because he was right, you were where you wanted to be.

You finished the rest of your glass in a single sip because there were two possibilities, this or jump on him and you couldn’t already do that considering you had just met him.

He was throwing you off so much it left you speechless and it wasn’t like you. You didn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

He chuckled as he continued to look at you, as if he had just read your mind.

Your guardian angel, Kim—who you’d thank for the rest of your life from that moment on—appeared at that exact moment, interrupting the game of glances between you and Jay that was becoming too intense for your own good.

“Jay! Y/n? Where’s Caleb?” She asked, visibly excited and smiling.

“I have no idea, courtesy of my fake boyfriend here,” you nodded at Jay who chuckled sexily.

How could laughter be so sexy?

“We need to talk about your questionable taste in men Kim, what kind of rat did you want her to be paired with?” He joked one hand shoved into his pants pocket while the other held his almost empty glass.

“Hey, don’t talk to my wife like that, I’d say she made a good choice in men,” Adam suddenly intervened, wrapping his arm around Kim’s hips and pressing a kiss to her temple. The sight warmed your heart, making you smile like an idiot.

“So, you’ve already introduced yourselves,” Kim continued, alternating her gaze between you and Jay but with a sinister smirk on her lips.

You and Jay exchanged a quick knowing look. “Yeah, he saved me from the mess that was Caleb. And by the way, I’m never listening to you ever again Kim, don’t do that to me again.”

“You two look so good together,” Kim blurted out and giggled, visibly tipsy. “Don’t you think they look hot together honey?”

“Okay that’s enough, let’s get back to dancing,” Adam chimed in again, struggling to contain his laughter, before dragging his wife away.

Before she left though Kim came back to you and whispered, “I was watching you two from afar there’s so much sexual tension between you two that even I got turned on.”

Your cheeks turned on fire but before you could respond Adam finally dragged her away, leaving you alone with Jay again.

He let out a light laugh, and you turned your head towards him. “Do I want to ask you what she said?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of champagne as you still heard her words echoing in your head. “Nope.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyebrow raised. “Kim really does have questionable matching skills, I take it this isn’t the first time with Carl,” he said, changing the subject.

“You have no idea,” you rolled your eyes, “my brain can’t comprehend how she managed to match me with these men and not one of them was normal.”

“Well, have you thought that maybe they weren’t the problem?”

You gasped in fake shock and elbowed him in the side, and he pretended to be in excruciating pain, making you laugh at the show he was putting on. “I could arrest you for assault on a police officer you know that right? You’d look really pretty in a prison uniform.”

“You think I’ll look cute in handcuffs too?”

What the fuck?! Where the hell did that come from?

Jay, who was taking his last sip of bourbon, chocked on it and started coughing after the liquor went down the wrong way and, although you were embarrassed by the stupidity of that statement, the scene was pretty hilarious.

“You good? Should I call a doctor? What happened?” You teased him, trying to hold back your laughter but failing miserably.

“You know damn well what happened,” he retorted with mock annoyance even as the smile on his lips belatedly came. “And pretty wouldn’t even come close to how good you’d look in handcuffs if you really wanted an answer, but that’s something we’ll talk about later.”

You blushed, once again, from head to toe and hated yourself for this reaction and how easily he could see it. “Later? Who says there’s gonna be a ‘later’?”

He smirked down at you, and it was so sexy it made your head spin. “Trust me there will be.”

“You’re so cocky detective.”

Jay leaned in just a fraction, enough that the faint scent of his cologne wrapped around you—something warm and woodsy, with a hint of spice. “Only when I’m sure about something,” he said, his voice softer now, but no less intense.

His words hung in the air, thick and heavy, and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck. You could've played it cool, thrown back a quip, but the way he was looking at you made your pulse skip in a way that was impossible to ignore.

His gaze dropped to your lips again—just for a second—but it was enough to send a fresh wave of heat curling through your body.

“C’mon,” he said suddenly, holding out a hand towards you. “You owe me a dance.”

You lifted a brow. “Do I?”

Jay shrugged, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I did save you from Carl. Seems only fair.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile that broke free as you slipped your hand into his. “Alright, Detective,” you quipped, “but only because you asked so nicely.”

His fingers curled around yours—firm, warm, just the right amount of possessive. And as he led you toward the dance floor, you realized something else: you didn’t want to let go.

The music shifted as you reached the edge of the dance floor—something slower, smoother, the kind of song that practically begged for two people to be just a little too close.

Exactly what you wanted.

Jay didn’t hesitate. His hand slid easily to your waist, fingers splayed warm and wide on the small of your back as he pulled you against him, close enough to send all your senses into a tizzy.

It had been hard until now, but this? Being so close to him that you could even count his eyelashes? It was devastating.

You couldn’t even recognize yourself, you’d never found yourself craving a man’s touch so badly, like you needed it to breathe, and in that moment you realized you’d only met the wrong people because, fuck, you were missing out.

“You good with this?” he murmured in your ear, his voice just for you. Low. Intimate. And there was something in the way he asked—like he cared, but also like he already knew your answer.

You nodded, hoping he didn’t feel the way your heart was beating against his chest. Your bodies began to sway in time to the slow music, like you’d done it a million times, like he wasn’t a stranger to you and you a stranger to him.

You didn’t know anything about the man, and he didn’t know anything about you, but you were so drawn to each other it almost drove you crazy.

As you engaged in small talk, you tried not to focus on how close he was—on how his thumb brushed against your back every time he shifted—but it was impossible. Especially when every slight movement seemed to make the space between you shrink.

He asked about you, what do you do for a job or in your free time, how old were you, how long have you known Kim, you asked about him and his life, and it was crazy how, even though you had known each other for literally a short time, you both felt comfortable talking to each other, joking and laughing when you both made terrible jokes.

“You’re really giving me a hard time,” he said, his fingers flexing on your hip.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, realizing how he was already looking at you. There wasn’t any trace of humor left, his eyes were staring at you, but they weren’t focused on yours exactly, they traveled along your face as if he was analyzing you, memorizing every feature and detail.

“Why?” You asked and his eyes flickered on your lips. He continued to caress your hip unconsciously, your bodies pressed against each other and with every slight movement you could feel the heat between you intensifying.

“Because I’m trying so hard to behave and be a gentleman but it’s getting really hard,” he answered softly, his voice raspy, his breath an inch from your lips. “And I hate not being in control.”

You stopped breathing for a second and a shiver ran down your spine. It would’ve been so easy to break that distance, it would’ve only taken a couple of inches and his mouth would’ve been on yours to finally satisfy that visceral attraction that was pulling you towards each other.

And you most likely would’ve let him do it if it hadn’t been for Kim who, with her usual perfect timing, had grabbed your arm, totally drunk and with a beaming smile.

“C’mon Y/n, we have to dance together!” she exclaimed loudly, jumping up and down with an enthusiasm you had never seen in her as she continued to pull on your arm without even leaving you room to protest.

Jay’s arm was still around your hip, though his grip wasn’t as firm as it had been before, and you hated to admit it, but you already missed that touch.

It seemed mutual because you felt him tense for a moment, his fingers reluctant to release their grip on you, as if he also hated the idea of letting you go. But eventually he did, slowly, the heat of his hand still burning through your dress and against your skin even after you’d pulled away.

“Don’t go too far,” he whispered in your ear, quiet enough to make it seem like a secret between the two of you.

And as Kim dragged you through the crowd to the beat of a more upbeat song, you turned to him and gave him one last look. Jay was still there, standing at the edge of the dance floor, his hands stuffed in his pockets, that intense gaze still fixed on you. He winked at you before you disappeared into the crowd and you almost tripped on your own feet.

Oh my fucking god.

Jay leaned against a wall, his hands still in his pockets, one foot placed in front of the other. In other moments he wouldn’t have waited to take another drink, but that night he wanted to be as sober as possible.

His gaze was fixed on the crowd of people dancing on the dance floor, but not on everyone, his eyes scanned the people only for one person in particular. He cursed those disco strobe lights because, in those dim lights, it was not easy to find you.

But when he finally did, his attention was focused only and solely on you, not on the music, not on the world around him.

You were laughing now, spinning with Kim on the dance floor, some strands of your hair coming out of your hairstyle as you moved to the music. He should’ve backed away. Hell, he’d spent years perfecting that skill, knowing when to pull back, where to avoid getting too close, perceive when there was danger. But with you? It wasn’t that easy.

It hadn’t been from the second he laid eyes on you, when he saw you enter the wedding venue with some of your friends.

He didn’t know what kind of witchcraft you had performed on him but he seemed to not be able to stop looking at you. His gaze tracked the curve of your smile and the movement of your lips as you sang along the song, the flush on your skin from the warmth of the room, and the way your dress hugged your figure just enough to make his thoughts stray somewhere they shouldn’t.

He told himself to get it together—to stop looking at you like a creepy stalker—but it was a losing battle, he seemed hypnotized.

And when you tipped your head back, laughing at something Kim said, Jay swore under his breath.

He was in trouble.

Because the truth was, it wasn’t just the way you looked—although you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen—it was the way you felt. Warm and soft against him when you danced, your hand fitting so easily in his. The way you leaned into his touch, like part of you wanted him closer, even when you were pretending otherwise.

It almost scared him how he found himself talking, laughing and joking so easily with a stranger he had just met.

But he wanted more of that. More of you.

And that realization hit him harder than it should’ve.

Jay exhaled slowly, willing the tension in his chest to ease. It didn’t work. Not when you turned your head as you kept dancing, scanning the room as if you were searching for something, or someone.

And when your eyes locked, his heart gave a sharp kick, one he didn’t truly expect. And the way you held his gaze? It did something to him.

Your lips curled into the faintest smile—small, almost shy—and damn if it didn’t make something twist low in his stomach. He should’ve been the one in control here, but with just one look, you had him pinned. And the worst part was that he didn’t mind.

Not even a little.

Your attention was caught again by one of your friends who pulled you towards her as you belted out the song in the background, breaking eye contact.

He tried to look away from you sometimes, focusing his attention on something else but it was as if his eyes were attracted to a magnet, you.

And maybe that was the problem.

He wasn’t supposed to feel this, wasn’t supposed to want someone he’d just met with this kind of heat and desire curling through his veins. But here he was, eyes on you, mind already running a dangerous path of wondering how you’d taste if he let himself get too close.

He was about to move—to do something, anything—but then Kim grabbed your hand again, spinning you around in a dizzy circle. Your laughter rang out, bright and carefree, while Jay just stood there against that wall.

He didn’t belong in this moment. Not really. A guy like him—weighted down by too much baggage, too many mistakes, a very dangerous job—had no business wanting you like this.

But God help him, he did.

When the song shifted to something louder and faster, you finally pulled back from Kim, breathless and glowing in a way that had no right to make his pulse pick up. Kim was already dragging Adam away, leaving you alone again, and for half a second, Jay thought this was his shot.

But then, just as quickly, you disappeared into the crowd.

And that shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. More than it had any right to.

Jay exhaled, dragging a hand through his face. He told himself to play it cool, to just let it go, but the thing was, he didn’t want to let it go. Let you go.

And if he had anything to say about it, this night wasn’t ending until he found you again.

Jay pushed himself off the wall, his pulse thudding a little harder than he wanted to admit.

He wasn’t the type to chase after someone, not like this. But that night, he couldn’t seem to help himself. His eyes scanned the room, but the crowd was thicker now, people swaying to the music, bodies pressed too close.

You weren’t on the dance floor anymore. He knew that much. And the longer it took to find you, the harder it became to shake the restless feeling gnawing at the edges of his control.

Get a grip, Halstead.

He could’ve leave you alone. Should’ve, probably. But as he moved through the party he knew nothing would sit right until he saw you again.

And then, just when he started to think he’d lost you for good, he caught a sight of you through the open door leading to the balcony.

Jay hesitated, his hand curling into a fist at his side. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing, all he knew was that the moment he saw you again, his mind quieted. And maybe that was reason enough.

Without giving himself time to second-guess, he stepped outside.

You were leaning against the railing, your back to him, the cool night air brushing against your bare shoulders. He let himself take in the sight of you for just a second longer—how the city lights reflected off your skin, how you tilted your head back like you were finally catching your breath.

You were breathtaking. So fucking beautiful it hurt.

“Wasn’t sure if I’d get another chance to steal you away.”

You turned your head at the sound of his voice, and there it was again, that little smile. “Something tells me you love a good challenge Detective.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, nodding. “I feel like the reward will be worthy.”

He moved closer to you as he took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, leaving his hands there for a while as he let your scent engulf him. You then turned fully to face him and Jay didn’t miss the way your eyes roamed along his body, focusing for a moment on his chest, his arms, before looking back into his eyes.

“Oh so you really like me,” you joked, eyes still on him, slightly tilting your head but he couldn’t ignore the blush on your cheeks.

“Thought I made that pretty clear by now.”

And just like that, the tension stretched tight again, thicker this time but with the difference that nothing and no one would interrupt this time.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The distant thump of music spilled through the open door, but out here? It felt like the rest of the world had faded away.

He closed the distance between you, never taking his eyes off yours. He tried to pull away, but it was as if he physically couldn’t, as if he needed it.

“And here I thought you’d even left the party.”

“You’re hurting me so much tonight, I’m not that bad at hitting on you c’mon.”

You giggled and bit your bottom lip. He found himself suppressing a groan because, damn, he had never wanted anything so badly as he wanted to bite your lip.

“Well,” you batted your lashes, “you’re definitely making it hard for me to leave now,” your eyes flicked to his lips before returning to his and he told himself to calm down but, God help him, if you did that again he’d lose every ounce of control he had left.

“I guess you found a good reason to stay then,” his tongue flicked across his bottom lip and he couldn’t miss the way your gaze landed on his lips, again. The light was dim, not very bright, but he could see so clearly how dilated your pupils were and it drove him crazy, knowing you felt the same.

“Is that so?” You murmured. He leaned closer to you and placed his hands on the railing at either side of you, trapping you in his arms but not touching you. Your breathing quickened at the closeness, your lips parted slightly as if you needed air, and that was enough to make his pulse quicken and the heat in his blood spike.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” he taunted

You let out a quiet laugh, warm and soft, and something about the sound made his fingers itch to touch you again, so much so that he tightened his fingers around the cold metal of the railing.

You took his tie—which had been dangling between you—into your hands, and Jay seriously thought he was going to collapse at your feet at any moment. You hadn’t done anything too dramatic, but he felt like he was going to have an aneurysm. Just seeing your fingers caress the fabric of your tie, how you played with it while you continued to look at him, drove him crazy.

“I’m exactly where I want to be,” you repeated under your breath the words he had said a few hours earlier. His hands were gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were completely white from trying to vent the frustration he felt.

His fingers inched closer and closer to you, until the sides of his thumbs were brushing against your dress. God, how much he wanted to grab you, hold you and touch you, every inch of your body until the ground disappeared beneath you.

You didn’t pull away, if anything, you shifted closer, your warmth seeping into his skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked when he remained silent, staring at you while you continued to play with his tie.

“I think,” he murmured, his thumb sweeping slow circles against your pelvis’ side, “you’re gonna be a problem for me.”

The tension cracked, sharp and electric, and neither of you moved, like you were both waiting to see who’d break first.

“Maybe I want to be,” you admitted quietly.

That was all he needed.

Jay didn’t overthink it, he just moved, closing the last bit of space between you. His hand slid to your waist and made you stand upright, as he tilted his head down, giving you plenty of time to pull back.

But you didn’t.

You stayed right there, your breath warm against his skin as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

“You’re making this impossible,” he said, his voice rougher now, low enough that only you could hear. His fingers flexed against your waist, dragging you closer without meaning to. Or maybe he did. He wasn’t sure anymore. “I’m trying so hard to be good, but—fuck.”

“But what?” you interrupted, your tone softer, breathier than before. His eyes snapped to yours, and the challenge in your gaze nearly broke him. “What happens if you stop trying?”

His breath hitched. Jesus Christ.

Jay let out a low, bitter laugh, because you weren’t making this any easier. And the worst part? You knew it. You knew exactly what you were doing to him.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” he asked, as his fingers trailed up, just slightly, brushing the curve of your ribs. It wasn’t a question. Not really.

Your lips parted, and for a second—just a second—he thought maybe you’d call his bluff. But instead, you tilted your head, eyes fixed on his mouth like you were imagining the same damn thing he was.

“I really, really do,” you murmured. And that was it. That was the crack in the dam.

His other hand came up before he could stop himself, fingers grazing along your jaw, tilting your face toward his as his nose brushed against yours. “You have no idea how much I want you right now,” he admitted, no more games, no more teasing. Just raw, unfiltered truth. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t even know you but you’re driving me crazy. You have to stop me.”

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Instead, your lips curled into the faintest smile, bold, knowing, and it only fueled the fire already burning through his veins.

“The thing is, I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for your breath to brush against his lips, “I don’t want you to be good or patient.”

The words punched through his last shred of restraint like they were designed to. And for a beat, all he could do was look at you—at the flush on your skin, the way your chest rose and fell a little too fast.

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he warned, though it came out rougher than he intended, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, slower than necessary.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you shot back, quiet but sure—so sure—and, fuck, he was done for.

He wanted to win that little silent race, to see you snap but the truth was that he had lost from the start, he had no chance of winning.

So, when he finally kissed you, it wasn’t an attempt.

It was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, in case it was the last time. The faintest hint of champagne lingered on your lips, but beneath it was something that made his heart slam harder against his ribs.

You kissed him back like you wanted this just as much as he did, your hands sliding up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, deeper, making his jacket fall on the floor.

And Jay? He let himself fall into it. Into you.

Jay’s lips moved against yours, slow and thorough, but nothing about the way he touched you felt careful. His hands slid along your waist, fingers pressing into the curve of your hip, squeezing you like he was memorizing the shape of you. Every brush of his skin against yours sent sparks racing through your body, and the heat pooling low in your stomach only grew stronger with each passing second.

His palms flattened against your lower back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between your bodies, until you could feel how much he really wanted you. He was warm, solid—everywhere—and the way he held you made your breath hitch.

You tugged lightly on the back of his neck. The muscles beneath your fingers were tense, and a shudder ran through him as your nails scraped gently against his skin. His breath hitched in response, and something about knowing you could unravel him like this made the heat in your blood burn hotter.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and frayed at the edges. His lips brushed over yours again, lingering like he was savoring the taste of you. But his hands, God, his hands, were anything but patient.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up your spine, skimming beneath the hem of your dress as he went. The warmth of his touch against your bare skin felt a sharp, delicious shiver curling through you, and when his hand settled at the small of your back again, his grip tightened, so possessive like he wanted to keep you exactly where you were.

And you wanted to stay there.

You wanted more.

Your body arched instinctively into his, and Jay swore softly under his breath, his hold on you turning rougher, like he was losing the battle to keep himself in check. His fingers flexed at your hip, sliding lower, almost touching your ass before skimming back up, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you most.

And when your hand drifted from his neck to the front of his shirt, fingers curling into the soft fabric, you felt the sharp rise and fall of his chest beneath your palm. His heart was racing and the realization felt another jolt of heat spiraling through you.

“Jay,” you breathed against his mouth, in such an intense and desperate tone, as if you needed him and his distance hurt you, and his response was immediate. His lips crashed back onto yours with a hunger that stole your breath, and the slow, careful rhythm shattered beneath the weight of all that tension.

He kissed you harder now, deeper. His tongue swept along your lower lip, and when you opened up for him, he groaned softly, a low, desperate sound that made your knees go weak.

His hand slid higher, dragging up your side, fingers brushing the sensitive skin beneath your ribs. He didn’t stop there. He traced the outline of your body desperately, knuckles grazing the side of your breast before his palm flattened against your ribcage, holding you firmly against him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered against your lips.

“Yes, god, yes please Jay,” you whispered back and damn, if your breathy voice hadn’t completely destroyed him. He loved seeing you as desperate for him as he was for you.

He kissed you again. “You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against your lips, and there was no teasing left in his voice. Just raw need. “I can’t—If you want me to stop say it because I fucking can’t.”

The response to those words of his was the way you grabbed his face and crashed your lips onto his again. “I don't want you to stop.”

Whatever fragile restraint he’d been clinging to snapped completely.

Jay’s hands tightened on your waist as he backed you against the wall, pressing you there like he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

His lips left yours just long enough to trail down your jaw, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. He didn’t stop when he reached your neck. Instead, he tilted your head gently to the side, giving himself more access as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat and making you sigh in pleasure.

And when his teeth graced that sensitive spot just below your ear, you couldn’t hold back the soft sound that escaped your lips.

Jay froze at the sound—just for a second to control himself before he’d come in his pants. He groaned low in his throat, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that was rougher now, messier, hungrier. Like hearing you fall apart pushed him over the edge.

One arm was around your waist as he held you so tightly it was almost impossible to move, while the other hand slid down, fingers spreading wide across your thigh. His thumb brushed slow circles against the sensitive skin there, inching higher with every pass. “Tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” he repeated.

But the way he touched you, the way his mouth lingered on yours, made it painfully clear he didn’t want to stop.

And neither did you.

“If you stop now, I might actually lose my mind.”

He chuckled before kissing you again as you pulled him closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss even further. Your hands cupped his face, his beard tickling your palms as he took your breath away completely.

He slid his hand up your thigh again, taking advantage of the slit of your dress to touch your skin, to squeeze it, to feel it, to press his fingers so deeply into it until they left their mark. He grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist, making his pelvis grind with yours and making you both moan into the kiss.

His lips trailed back down to your neck, licking and sucking every inch of skin he had access to. “I want you so fucking bad.” His breath was hot against your skin, and when he spoke again, his voice was nothing but a rough, desperate whisper.

“Oh my fucking god Jay,” you gasped, trying to keep your voice low as his hand slid on your ass, squeezing it until you almost moaned again. “I want you so much too… Please…”

His lips found yours again, a desperate, greedy kiss that only deepened the ache between you two. There was no hesitation, no slowing down. Every touch, every movement, felt like a need that couldn’t be contained. You could feel the heat rising between you, consuming both of you in a way that made everything else fade.

His hard dick pressed into you, and the pressure made your breath hitch, another moan escaping as you started to grind into him again. His mouth left yours only long enough to whisper your name, low, rough, like a command.

“God, I need to feel you,” he muttered against your skin, like he was about to break. His teeth grazed your ear before his lips closed around the sensitive spot just below it, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped again. It only turned him on even more, his hands moving and exploring every inch of you, as though he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his back, his chest, pulling him even closer, matching the urgency of his movements. You wanted to rip that shirt off of him, you wanted to feel his skin under your fingers, touch him everywhere.

His lips trailed down to the curve of your shoulder, sucking gently as the strap of your dress slid down. The sensation made you pulse race beyond imagination, and you found yourself tugging at his shirt, eager to feel more of him.

“Jay,” you breathed again, voice trembling, and you pulled his face back to yours, crashing your lips together with the kind of hunger that mirrored his own. The kiss was messy, full of heat and need, and you lost yourself in it. You bit his lower lip, sucking it and making him groan. And, fucking hell, the sound was so sexy you felt it directly in your lower regions.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Y/n,” he muttered desperately. His fingers brushing over the lace of your underwear before slipping inside, feeling how wet you were. The contact was electric, and the sharp Moab you let out made his almost like in his pants. “Is this okay?” he murmured against your lips.

“Yes, shit… Oh… Oh god Jay you feel so good please don’t stop,” you moaned, your body moving on instinct, a desperate need for more, and the words only seemed to unravel him further.

There was no turning back now, and for once in your life, it felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

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[happypopcornprincess]

Chapter 1 || I Can See You

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader

Premise - At a glamorous gala, Y/N's life intertwines with Joaquin's. A pact ensues, while a dangerous mission looms.

Word Count - 2.8K

Warnings: SMUT, Angst, Mentions of blood, domestic violence

a/n - This story is based between the events of Endgame and Brave New World. In this AU, Tony Stark survived and the New characters of the MCU are on the way to be the new recruits of the Avengers. Hope you guys like this <3

Series Masterlist

Avengers Compound, Post Endgame

If it wasn’t for Pepper to quite literally threaten you to attend her Annual Charity Gala, you wouldn’t even be here. The atmosphere around you was straight out of some high society drama. The grey walls of the newly reconstructed avengers compound were covered in silver tones, a huge silver chandelier hanging in the middle of the hall, there was laughter in the air, and everyone was dressed to the nines. 

Just how a party was supposed to be… when the host was the one and only Pepper Potts. Tony was there too, even though his hand was still recovering from the snap, but he was cheery and loud as always.

You sipped your champagne in silence, standing far away from the dance floor. 

You were chosen by Sam from MIT to help the Avengers. You had trained with the new recruits, Kate, Peter… They were good kids. Training with them was… well, it was something. Sam was great, and helped you all adjust. Honestly, the Avengers? They were intimidating. superhuman intimidating. But you had your strengths. Sharpshooting was always your thing. And you threw yourself into the training, every single bit of it. They told you it was for intel missions, to keep you out of direct harm's way. But that wasn't enough. You wanted more. Because you were not aiming for 'safe.' 

You were aiming to be an Avenger.

Your job was to figure out how Kingpin just vanished into thin air after Christmas. The task has taken over your daily routine after you met Kate Bishop. It’s been months of interviewing eyewitnesses, going on the streets undercover, nights of no sleep with a shit ton of coffee, and just when you think you’re about to solve it… you meet a dead end.

“Trying to hide behind the curtains again are we y/n?” Bucky’s voice made you look to your right, and there he was. Standing next to you wearing a sharp three-piece black suit, his hair slicked back.

You finally understood what Steve meant when he would say girls back then would throw themselves at Bucky.

He turned to you in disgust, “Are you checking me out?”

“You wish, asshole.” You mutter in your glass.

You and Bucky had developed an unlikely friendship after the blip bought him back. He was pardoned, and moved into a quaint apartment complex deep in the city, unknown to the fact that you lived right next to his place.

On a stormy night after the nightmares won’t let you both sleep, sharing one bottle of whiskey between you was all it took for you to spill your life to him. You have turned into each other’s best friends and occasional love life advisor, although it was kind of a package deal.

Which is why you knew the reason he was so dressed up for the first time since you met.

“You see Sam anywhere?” he asks you nonchalantly.

You give him a sly smirk, “Why? Can’t wait to shove your tongue down his throat?”

Bucky gives you a sideward glance, and goes back to looking at the crowd.

He was still figuring out his feelings towards both men and women, especially towards one man.

Returning from the Flag Smashers situation, he would not shut up how ‘annoying’ and ‘frustratingly righteous’ Sam Wilson is, how his smirk makes him want to ‘strangle’ him.

You asked him one evening if he was having a ‘full-on-bi-panic’ and he threw a pillow at your face.

“y/n! there you are!” Sam bellows as he walks towards the two of you, wearing a crisp grey suit over a white button up, looking as dapper as always.

“Sam!” you laugh, giving him a tight hug. He was your mentor, someone you looked up to. And hopefully your bestie’s future boyfriend.

“You look absolutely gorgeous!” he threw you one of his classic smiles as he retreated.

You look down to the pastel pink knee length dress you were wearing.

Hustling the life of an avenger straight out of MIT, it was the only dress you owned. And after paying for it out of your own pocket you realize fancy dresses cost a hand and a leg, and you refuse to part from it.

“Thank you Sam I-” you were about to thank him but stopped once you noticed him absolutely gawking at Bucky.

“Hey Bucky.” He smiled.

“Hey Sam.” Bucky gave him a nod.

You almost roll your eyes at the exchange, wondering when they will move on from the weird talking phase.

“Hello.”

An angelic voice interrupted your train of thoughts. Looking away your eyes meet a pair of the warmest brown eyes. He was standing behind Sam. A tall, tan-skinned man, wearing a crisp black suit stood in front of you. His curls fell on his forehead, and his smile was intoxicating.

He looked like a high surf tide; calling out for you to test the waters.

You extend your right hand, smiling at him. “Hey, I’m y/n”

He held it with his right, it made your heart race when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, his hands warm and his lips soft, sending a jolt through your body.

Oh, he’s mischief alright!

You were left speechless when he straightened, a smirk thrown out your way as Sam spoke up, “This is the guy I told y’all about! Lt. Joaquin Torres.” He slapped a hand on Joaquin’s back, smiling with pride.

“And this is y/n y/l/n, fresh transfer from MIT. She’s our tech genius, and a walking journal on film recommendations.”

Laughter followed as your eyes couldn’t help but stay trained on Joaquin. Thinking back on the time when Sam told the team about the new Falcon joining them after a while, you somehow manage to speak up at that moment, “Welcome to the circus.” You take a deliberately long sip of your float, never breaking eye contact.

He gulped nervously, eyes wide, clearly startled by you flirting. 

“You haven’t had a drink yet Lieutenant? Let’s get you something.” you smile involuntarily.

He stands back for you to lead the way, “Sure. And it’s just Joaquin, please.” he laughs just after, his honey laced voice paired with your tad bit hazy mind doing wonders to your imagination.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/--/-

They keep watchful eyes on us So it's best that we move fast and keep quiet You won't believe half the things I see inside my head Wait 'til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet

“Wait a minute…” you smiled, “you cannot possibly think Love Actually is better than The Holiday?”

“It’s the perfect rom com!” Joaquin laughs, “it covered basically every rom com trope under the sun.”

“But, listen to me, but…” you say, your slightly tipsy self leaning on the wall behind you, as Joaquin stood in front of you, holding his own glass of whiskey, “Quantity never matters in front of quality. All characters in The Holiday are well written with meaningful backgrounds and great character redemption arcs. And it’s got Jude Law.”

Joaquin raises his hands, “Jude Law.”

“Jude Law.” you laugh, at how he was mocking a defeated pose.

“When Sam told me I can’t lose a movie debate with you, I couldn’t believe him.”

You try to curtsey, “thank you.”

“Wanna get out of here?” Joaquin blurted out abruptly.

It took you a while to gain your consciousness, and a laugh left your lips at what he just said. You saw his eyes traveling to your lips, and how his breath fastened as you took a deliberately long sip of your drink.

You smirked, “sure.”

—/—/—

You find yourself sneaking through the backdoor and upstairs towards the living quarters of the Avengers compound as you drag Joaquin by his coat as you slip into an unassigned room. The furniture was still uncovered, but there was a couch in a corner right next to the opened windows where moonlight pooled in.

Perfect.

The alcohol surging through your system gives you newfound courage, and seconds later Joaquin was being thrown on the couch by you. His pupils dilated, his gaze trained on you and his scent lingering in the air, you straddled him without hesitation.

 “Are you good?” His breathy voice went straight to your core, and without a word you crashed your lips on his.

He’s gonna be the death of me.

The taste of expensive champagne hit your mouth, Joaquin’s tongue slipping in your mouth sliding in with fervor. Your gasp is swallowed by his lips, his hands travelling south towards the zipper of your dress.

Your hands fumble with his coat, taking it off of him and raising his shirt just enough to slide your hands underneath. Warm, toned muscles met your hands, and the way he sucked your lips made you forget everything. You couldn’t breathe, but couldn’t move away from him either, entirely lost in taking him in.

Joaquin jerked back all of a sudden, making you whine.

“Wait, wait…” He breathed out, his breath cooling your skin.

“Just kiss me.” You exhaled, grabbing his tie to pull him in, but he leaned back.

Joaquin gently held your wrists, “y/n… hey, look at me,” he breathlessly said, “look at me for a second.”

You do, at his messy hair, puffy lips, and blown out pupils.

He holds out his hand, “how many fingers am I holding up.”

You scrunch your brows in confusion, eyes drifting to his fingers in front of your face. You get the tunnel vision every time you’ve had a bit too much whiskey, you see double.

Concentrating hard on your answer, you slur out, “four?”

Joaquin closes his eyes, looking up and huffing out a breath, “you’re very drunk.” You feel his hands on your waist, and he carefully sits you down on the couch next to him.

You whine at the loss of his touch as he gets up from the couch. He returns a minute later with a bottle of water, sitting next to you and making you drink the entire thing.

“Can we go back to the part where you kiss me until I forget my name?” you breathe out.

Joaquin laughs out, settling down next to you and leaning back on the couch. You straighten your dress, and sit with your shoulders touching. You steal a glance his way.

His coat was gone, his tie hung loose on his neck, his white button shirt straining on his arms…

Someone works out…

The faint moonlight hitting from behind him made the outline of the veins on his neck visible.

I want to lick it...

You scrunch your eyes as soon as you hear that inside your head.

Wow, he’s right, I am drunk.

“As much as I’d like to do that,” he looks your way, “I can’t. You’re very drunk.”

A smile itches on your face, and you ask, “so what should we do then?”

“Talk?” he suggests, turning to you, resting his head on the backrest and looking you right in your eyes. “I know nothing about you. You know nothing about me. Let’s talk.”

You laugh out loud, “okay,” the smile refusing to leave your face, “what do you want to know?”

“Anything.” he says with a warm smile on his face.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You wake up in an unfamiliar room and a blinding headache, on a mattress too soft for your liking, the sunlight hitting your face with full force.

Grunting, you sit up, rubbing your forehead.

Something slips off your body, and you look down and find someone has covered you with a black suit coat while you slept.

The man with the warm eyes and gentle touch.

You laugh, rubbing your head at the absurdity of the situation.

You wear it over your dress and walk out of the room, after last night’s party everybody would be sleeping in. You can sneak out unnoticed.

You swiftly call an uber, and shove your hands inside the pockets of Joaquin’s coat.

The feel of rough paper makes you stop in your tracks, you take it out of the pocket to see a torn piece of labeling paper inside, a note greeting you.

9546-555-6783 See you soon, I guess? (Take care of my coat till then? It’s my favorite suit.) -         Joaquin

-/-/-/-/-/-

You brush past me in the hallway And you don't think I, I, I can see ya, do ya? I’ve been watchin' you for ages And I spend my time tryin' not to feel it

Joaquin joined the team a week later. He chose to stay on the compound, and soon blended in with the new avengers. Peter and Kate grew especially fond of him. When Shang-Chi joined the ranks, he, too, was welcomed into your close-knit circle.

You spared during training, made breakfast together, had constant debates on cinema and stories. He loved the classics, and you had a nick for science fiction. You should have cancelled out each other, but your differences only made your bond stronger. The differences weren't a barrier; they were a bridge. You shared tech skills learned during your time at  MIT, revealing the details of coding and circuits. In return, he shared practical knowledge from his air force background; survival techniques and tactical strategies.

Your apartment, though smaller than the compound's common areas, became the gathering spot for your group. Lazy weekends of your teams were spent at your place, you'd watch old movies, host game nights, and then collapse on any available surface.

Peter had a habit of entering your apartment through your window, and Kate never got used to it. Takeout was a foreign concept with your friends. Instead, Shang-Chi and Joaquin would take over the kitchen, making a mouth watering combination of asian food and mexican food, that could best possibly win them masterchef if they ever could.

These people, this band of young individuals navigating life… they became your chosen family. They were your support system, your confidantes, your partners in crime.

No one seemed to notice the stolen glances, the lingering touches, the quiet conversations that stretched late into the night. Or perhaps they did notice, and simply didn't care. 

-/-/-/-/-/-

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Clouds grumbled above, as angry raindrops splattered on your apartment window. You were sitting on your couch with three devices settled in front of you: a laptop and two tablets running algorithms and analytics for locating kingpin. Kate had gathered intel that he still had someone in the states giving him updates and keeping him safe. But where?

That was a question you were determined to get answers to. Which is why you had made it your mission to get to the base of this.

Amidst the thunderous rain outside, you hear a knock on the door, and from the corner of your eye you witness Joaquin enter, carrying takeout containers.

“You’ll have to use the fork for the noodles, I just ran out of chopsticks!” you shout, without even looking at his direction.

“Y/n” Joaquin huffed out in frustration, “please tell me you didn’t ‘sense’ Thai food from me.”

“I did.” you laugh, looking at the bewildered Joaquin standing in your kitchen. He had jeans and a sleeveless gym shirt on. Involuntarily your eyes went to his toned arms, and you did a quick diversion of your thoughts to the TV.

”I come bearing sustenance. Chow Mein and Thai green curry, extra spicy, just how you like it.” he says, followed by the scrunching of the takeout container.

You sit up straighter with a smile itching on your lips, your favorite food just when you were low on inspiration. “You're a lifesaver, these logistics are killing me.”

Joaquin sets the containers on the coffee table. He sits next to you, close enough that your thighs brush. He huffs out, “Tell me about it. Sam's been drilling us on contingency plans all day. I swear, he's got a backup plan for the backup plan.”

You laugh, “That's Sam for you. Always prepared.”

You open the containers, the aroma of the curry filling the room, and digging into the food in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You got something on your…” Joaquin speaks, and you look at him with a particularly big bite in your mouth. 

“Hmm?” you mutter.”

He reaches out and gently wipes a bit of sauce from the corner of your mouth. The gesture is intimate, lingering a moment too long. If you don’t count your sparring training, this was the closest you had been since ‘that’ night at the charity gala. Your hands grab his arm on their own.

It feels… good. Too good. It's been so long since anyone touched you like this. Desired you. Like you mattered. Like you weren't just… a disappointment. You… you want this. You want him. 

But what if you mess it up? What if you push him away, like you did with… 

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest as he gently cupped your face in his hands, your gaze locked on his warm brown eyes. He leaned in towards your lips, a silent question in his expression. You paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing your face, and gently pulled back.

He too leaned back, respecting your space. The tension remained, but now it carried a hint of gentle inquiry.

Looking down, you fidgeted with your hands, "It's not that I don't… I just… we need to be sure about this." You huffed out in frustration, trying to articulate your tangled thoughts.

"I want you," he stated, his voice low and sincere. You looked up at him instantly, his pupils dilated, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. "I want you in ways you can't imagine, y/n. And I will walk out of here right now if you don't want this. We can forget this ever happened."

Thunder roared in the skies above, and lightning illuminated his face through the window as he paused, his expression open and honest. "But," he gulped, his eyes searching yours, "if you do want this… then…"

He left the rest unsaid, giving you the space to make your own choice.

Your internal conflict finally tipped towards action.

Oh, fuck this… 

His words were lost as soon as you crashed your lips on his.

—/—/—

You stumbled into your room, Joaquin’s lips didn’t leave yours as he threw the two of you on the bed. Pulling you under him, his hands were everywhere. Your mind could only catch up with a few, as it was too busy taking in all of him.

Joaquin made you feel like your entire body was on fire. Your hands flew straight to his hair, a moan leaving his lips. You did quick work on his clothes, leaving him in his boxers as he got busy removing yours.

No words were exchanged as he moved low, kissing and sucking your skin in all the places that made your vision hazy. You could only whine and gasp as he grabbed your legs and rested them on his shoulders.

And then he stopped.

You look down to see a mischievous grin plastered on his face, his pupils blown wide.

“Joaquin…” you breathe out, “stop teasing me.”

His eyes darken as he let out a low murmur against your skin and without warning dived in, a loud moan leaving your lips as pleasure rushed through your body.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-

And I could see you being my addiction You can see me as a secret mission

“So… what is this?” you ask, lying next to him covered in sweat, panting. You rolled away next to him, completely exhausted from your acts that lasted three blissful hours.

“You’re asking this now?” he mutters, eyes fixed at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure fraternizing between teammates is not allowed here.” He groans.

You close your eyes, trying to think about if that rule existed among the Avengers. As far as you knew nobody was involved with each other here. “We can be friends.” You suggest.

“What!” you feel the mattress shift and open your eyes to him leaning over you.

 “No, just… think about it.” You shift to lean on the headboard, gathering the sheets to cover your chest, “you’re new to the team.”

Joaquin takes a pillow to cover himself and sits cross-legged in front of you, “okay.”

You stop for a second, staring at his abs.

Y/n stop it! Focus!

“We can’t just go ahead and announce that we’re sleeping together, or dating. They will never let us live this down. Especially Bucky. And Kate. Maybe Sam…” You state, matter of factly.

“Wait, wait! Stop!” he gestures, eyebrows scrunched, “You want to date me?”

“No! I don’t like you like that!” almost scream out, “do you wanna date me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then I don’t see a problem with… this!” You throw out your hands.

“What is this exactly?” Joaquin pointed between you two.

You groan, “ugh, you’re as thick as it gets!” You adjust the sheets around your body to free your hands, “what did you think of me the first time you saw me?”

“At the gala? Huh…” he thinks, “That you have the prettiest smile.” he shocks you with the last part, but then he adds on, “also you looked hot in that pink dress.”

There we go.

“Well, I thought you had a great voice, and your eyes were really pretty.” You truthfully admit, “also you looked like trouble… and I have a thing for bad boys.”

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Whatever.”

“You swear you don’t want anything other than sex with me?” he asks you.

You nod, “Yeah. You?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

Joaquin gets up from his place, picking up his boxers and putting them on, “So just to be clear… we’re friends.”

“Yep!” you catch your sweatshirt that he throws your way.

He puts on his shirt next, “With benefits.”

“Absolutely.” You say, debating whether you should get up the bed or not, exhaustion rolling over your senses.

“And you promise you won’t fall in love with me.” He points to you.

“Oh please, if anything you’ll be falling first.” You say through a yawn.

Joaquin laughs putting on his pants, “well, I’m gonna go get something to eat. You want something?”

“Do you mind if I take a nap? I’m tired.” You grimace.

He smiles at you, “Go ahead.”

You fall back on the bed, as you hear his footsteps going away… the sweet embrace of sleep following you next.

—/—/—

Few weeks later

Your place or mine?

Your screen lit up with the message from Joaquin. You smirked

Yours? In an hour? You press send, and let out a laugh as you see the blue tick instantly.

Done.

Before you could ask him the reason he got so worked up, you hear F.R.I.D.A.Y’s automated voice - Scan. Complete.

A low hum filled the operations center as you meticulously analyzed the fragmented data streams scanned by F.R.I.D.A.Y. Dozens of photographs presented infront of you but your eyes instantly locked in on one in particular. Your focus narrowed on a grainy image emerging from the static. 

Broad shoulders, crisply pressed suit, gold rings on the fingers… could it be…

“Y/n!” Kate and Peter shout in unison as you slapped a stack of files on the kitchen table. Sam, Bucky, Shang Chi, Joaquin, all who were just about to eat, whipped their heads towards the commotion.

“I think I've found him,” you announced, pointing to the figure.

Sam and Bucky shared a look, and rushed towards you as you opened up a holographic display on your tab. Joaquin and you share a look, he was amused, a small smile on his face letting you know he was excited for what you found out, you smirked and quickly look away trying to focus on the scene infront of you.

“All this time I was searching for him here… but…” Cross-referencing facial recognition, thermal readings, and satellite data, you enlarged a section of the display, revealing a stark desert landscape. “The terrain, the temperature… it all points to one place... Mexico.”

A collective sense of surprise filled the room. 

'Mexico?' Peter questioned, 'What's he doing down there?' 

You zoomed in on a satellite image, enhanced thermal readings revealing a network of hidden structures. 'I don’t know, but he's planning something,' you stated, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice. 'Something big.' The implications hung heavy in the air. 

“This changes everything.” You nodded, your gaze fixed on the display. 'We need to move fast.”

To Be Continued...

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Next Chapter will be up soon... Love y'all, Take Care!

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[dreamwavesexploringreality]

TRUST:

Chishiya x Reader (Season 2)

----

"They lied to you."

Y/N slowly turned toward the owner of the voice, unconsciously gripping the cookies she had just taken from the shelf.

The man was sitting casually at one of the dining room tables, hands in his pockets and his gaze forward. She didn’t respond, trying to maintain a serene appearance. Then he looked at her. No, he didn’t just look at her. He observed her, analyzed her. Y/N felt his piercing eyes probing the depths of her mind, and for a moment, she felt exposed. She had never been good at Games of Hearts. Still, she kept a defiant look on her face, which made the man smile—an amused smile accompanied by a small victorious laugh. Then, he turned his gaze back to the front and brought a cookie to his mouth.

"Who lied to me?" she spoke, motionless in place.

"Your group," he replied with a sigh, not meeting her gaze. He chewed his cookie thoughtfully for a few seconds and then spoke again. "Your suit is hearts, not spades."

Y/N took a deep breath, and after looking around to make sure no one else was in the dining room, she took a step toward the man.

"Why should I trust you?" she practically whispered.

The man laughed softly again and looked at her.

"I don’t think you have many other options."

Silence filled the room again for a few seconds. The man had caught Y/N’s attention from the moment she entered the game: "A clearly enigmatic character, reserved, and most likely the Jack," she had thought at the time.

"Why would you help me?" she tried to gauge him.

The man sighed dramatically before speaking.

"It turns out I’ve run out of a partner. He died in the last round." He spoke with feigned sadness, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

A sarcastic laugh escaped her.

"Your partner died because you gave him the wrong suit?" she mocked. "How am I supposed to trust you then?"

Y/N saw the man open his eyes again and look at her with a smile.

"I didn’t give him the wrong suit." He paused. "He was… too kind for this world." He muttered.

Then he stood up, turning his back to her, pushing back the white hair that covered his collar. Y/N looked at the suit but didn’t speak. After a few seconds, the man turned his head with a playful attitude.

"Aren’t you going to tell me? I told you yours." He looked over his shoulder, smiling.

A chill ran down her spine. There were only five minutes left to enter a cell and announce her suit. Just a moment ago, she had been sure about it, but now, this man had unsettled her trust.

She stayed silent, and the man turned to face her. Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, weighing her options. If she believed he was the Jack, the most prudent thing would be to lie.

"Diamond." She spoke at last.

The man smiled, and she squeezed the cookie packet a little tighter in her hands.

"Are you going to trust me?" she asked him. The man shrugged.

"This is a game of trust, isn’t it? To win, you have to trust people." He spoke.

"This is a game of hearts , to win you have to betray people” She replied sarcastically. She hated those games.

The man seemed thoughtful for a few seconds.

"Trust and betrayal usually go hand in hand" he finally concluded.

The man put his hands in his pockets just as a voice echoed over the speakers:

"It’s time to return to your cells and declare your suit."

A shiver ran down her spine, as it always did when that voice echoed through the walls. The man seemed to notice this, laughed softly, then turned his back and took a few steps before stopping suddenly.

"Your group has already lied before… What made you think you wouldn’t be the next in line?" There was no genuine curiosity in the question, just a sort of mockery. She didn’t answer.

The man slightly turned his head to look at her.

"See you in the next round."

And with that, he walked away, leaving the girl confused with the now-crushed cookie packet in her hands.

---

Hey everyone!

Sorry for being MIA for so long... I’ve been caught up with a lot of things behind the scenes but I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so here’s something I had sitting in my drafts! Hope you like it while I keep working on all your amazing requests.

Thanks for sticking around!

[sematarygirls]

       ꪆ୧     ׅ    ⬫  A͟L͟L͟ AMERICAN ! READER ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ᰍ 

‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ✶ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ FIX HER UP‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ :  Looks like you’ve gotten yourself ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎   into a bit of trouble, sweetheart.

‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎  ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ♯┆WARNINGS.ㅤ─── suggestive

‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ “i dug my key into the si—” Chug-chug-chug—CLUNK. The sound of your cheerful singing died out as your red pickup truck, Dolly, came to a halt. “Oh, no, no, girl, not today,” you pleaded, turning the key in the ignition over and over to no avail. Poor Dolly had been on her last legs for awhile now, but you didn't have the money to get her all fixed up, and you'd rather die than even think of cheating on her with some other rust bucket.

You let out a frustrated huff, hitting the steering wheel. You looked up at your cracked rear view mirror, finding the road around you completely deserted—just your luck.

Reaching over into the passenger's seat, you grabbed your cellphone from your purse and begrudgingly dialed the number for Big Al's Autobody Shop, knowing full well that Al would try to hit on you and then overcharge you for the tow when you turned him down, which you can do when the Sheriff is your brother-in-law.

“Big Al's Autobody, how can I help you today?” Al's nasally voice came through the speaker. He was a bigger man with a beer belly and a big, ungroomed beard that took up half his face.

“Hiya, Al,” you said, your sweet-as-honey voice falling from your lips. “It's Y/N, I seem to have broken down out on Hickory Creek on my way home from Magnolia's,” you informed him, biting your lip nervously. “I desperately need a tow or somethin'.”

“Well, well, if it ain’t my favorite customer,” Al replied, his voice containing an element of flirtation, bordering on creepiness, that sent a chill down your spine. You could practically hear him grinning on the other end of the line, imagining his yellowing teeth and leering stare. “Hickory Creek, huh? That’s a mighty fine stretch of road for a truck to give out on. Don’t worry, sugar, we’ll get you fixed up. I’ll send someone right out.”

“Thanks, Al,” you replied politely, thankful that he wasn't coming himself but still on edge about the kind of men he probably employs.

“No problem, doll,” you cringed at the nickname, quickly hanging up the phone and stepping out of the car, your worn cowboy boots thudding against the pavement. The A.C. had crapped out on you months ago, and without the luxury of the wind whipping into your windows as you went 60, the hunk of metal was sweltering in the summer heat, even as the sun began to set.

You adjusted your bra uncomfortably as you leaned against the side of your truck, sweat gathering in the swells of your breasts as well as about every crevice you had. You shifted your legs, feeling the sticky sweat between them as you groaned. You just wanted to be back home in the cool air of your bedroom, but alas, here you were, waiting for some hillbilly to come get your car.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, dampened from the heat and the rushing around at the diner that you'd done all day, waiting on tables. You brushed the sweat from your brow, watching the sky and waiting around for awhile before the sound of a car engine coming up drew your attention.

You turned, leaning your shoulder against Dolly and crossing your arms as you watched the tow truck approach, getting ready to deal with whatever overweight, sleazy guy Al had sent your way, but you were surprised when a tall, muscular figure stepped out in a white wife-beater with grease stains, a pair of old blue jeans, and boots.

“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, sweetheart,” he drawled, flashing you that all-too-familiar smirk as he adjusted his backward hat on his head, giving you a view of his tousled, sweaty hair for a moment before he put the hat back on.

“Poor girl just gave out on me,” you sighed, watching him intently as he grabbed some tools from the passenger's side of his truck. His arms, coated in a thin sheen of sweat and smudges of grease, flexed as he moved, giving you ample view of his built form.

Rafe Cameron had a habit of coming into Magnolia's Diner every morning to order a black coffee and flirt with you everytime you stopped by his table, flashing that arrogant smirk that had your knees weak, but you knew your daddy wouldn't approve of him, so you tried not to daydream about him too much, but my was he just the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on.

“Please tell me you can fix her,” you spoke up again, knowing it was quite the ask, especially since the sun was quickly setting. You were hoping maybe she just needed a jump or something quick to get you back on the road.

“Don't you worry your pretty little head, darlin',” he winked, walking toward you with his toolbox in hand. "I'll have her purring like a kitten in no time." He said it with such confidence, without even knowing what was wrong, that it calmed your worries about Dolly but made your heart beat a little faster in your chest.

You knew this wasn't standard practice. Most mechanics would've taken the car and left you stranded, but Rafe was determined to fix her up right on the side of the road, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It had between your thighs getting sticky for an entirely different reason.

He set down his toolbox with a thud, opening up Dolly's rusty hood and peering inside with pure confidence in his movements and actions. “Shit, darlin', this piece of junk needs a hell of a lot more than a quick fix.”

“Don't call Dolly a piece of junk,” you defended, your cheeks immediately heating up as you realized how silly you sounded defending the feelings of an inanimate object, but she was more than that to you. She was your mama's prized possession before she passed, leaving it to you. She was family.

Rafe chuckled, his deep voice rumbling through the quiet evening air. “I ain't mean to offend,” he said, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin. “But she’s seen better days, hasn’t she?” He reached down, tugging at a rusted piece under the hood, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles shifted beneath the tight fabric of his shirt.

“So, you can't fix her tonight, but... you can fix her, right?" you asked, taking a few steps toward him, your brows furrowed and your bottom lip worried between your teeth.

He looked up at you, noticing the look of concern on your face that you couldn't have hid even if you wanted to. He had a soft spot for you—the sweetest girl he'd ever met. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice smooth and teasing. “I can fix her. Might take a couple of days—maybe even longer if we’re talking parts—but I’ve got no problem putting in the time.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Rafe,” you said softly, looking up at him, now that you two were considerably closer—and he wasn't sitting down in a diner booth—you noticed how tall he was.

His pants tightened at the way you said his name in that soft, breathy tone of yours. He could have busted in his pants at that alone, but that mixed with the way you were looking at him had him damn near dizzy. “Ain't no problem at all.”

“Next time you come into the diner, it's coffee and a slice of pie on me,” you insisted, flashing him one of those sweeter-than-sugar smiles that had him resisting the urge to grab you by the waist and kiss you senseless. He could imagine all the things he wanted those pretty little lips to do—but he was supposed to be a gentleman.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of your phone going off rang out, a startling contrast to the peaceful sound of crickets chirping.

“That's probably my daddy wonderin' where I am,” you laughed nervously, pulling the driver's door open and retrieving your ringing phone. “Hi, daddy,” you answered, pressing it to your ear and turning your back to Rafe, like that granted some semblance of privacy. “No, I'm fine. Dolly broke down, but I'm getting 'er towed to Big Al's,” you explained. “Uh huh, okay, yeah, thank you, daddy. I'll see you soon.”

You hung up, blushing as you turned back around and saw Rafe staring at you intently. “He's—uh—He's coming to pick me up," you told him.

He nodded but looked disappointed. He had wanted to offer you a ride home, get some more time alone with you. “I'll take her back to the shop and get a better look at 'er,” he told you, closing the hood and wiping his hands on his jeans. “I'll update you on her condition and recovery time tomorrow mornin',” he winked, making you smile shyly.

“Thanks again,” you said sincerely. It made your heart skip a beat that he cared so much. “It means a lot to me.”

“Don't mention it," he waved you off, picking up his tools and getting ready to hook your car up to the tow truck. As you watched him, you had the feeling that maybe Dolly breaking down wasn't the worst thing to happen.

tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @lovemesailor / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @bradshawed / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @fakedhearts / @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 /

 

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Barnes Bakes Chapter 1

A request that turned into a short story. Hope y'all like it! *mudak: moron or blowhard in Russian

Next chapter

Bucky waited for the elevator up to his apartment.  It had been another grueling mission and he was just not in the mood for anything but a big glass of his favorite Irish cream liqueur and a pizza.  He and his girlfriend had been bickering over text all day, and he was at his wits end.  Everything had started great between them a few months ago, but she had proven herself to be very jealous, which he had no patience for.  He put his phone on silent as the elevator rose and when he walked out he was greeted by a hallway of boxes.  Great, another new neighbor, he thought as he gingerly walked around and over the boxes.  When he turned the corner he found a woman almost completely sideways to a large box, pushing as hard as she could to get it through the doorway of the apartment across from him, blocking his way.

She grunted as she stopped pushing, then saw him and gasped.  “Oh!  I’m so sorry all my shit is in the way,” she said, moving away from the large box and shoving the smaller ones toward each wall to make a better walkway for him.  

“It’s okay,” he said gruffly, walking toward his door.

“You’re right across from me?  That’s great!  Hi, I’m Y/N,” she said, her voice way too chipper for him right now.  She thrust her hand out towards him with an expectant smile.  Bucky eyed her hand then slowly extended his right hand, shaking it firmly.

“Bucky,” he said simply.

“It’s nice to meet you, Bucky,” she said as her smile widened.  “I’m sorry for the mess.  I’ll get it moved toot sweet.”

He huffed a laugh, catching himself off guard.  “Toot sweet?” he asked.  

“Yeah, I know, I’m an old lady,” Y/N giggled and rolled her eyes.  “Well, I won’t take up your time.”  She turned back to the large box and tried pushing it again, moving it only a couple of inches.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at her.  She was short, reaching only up to his chest, very curvy and pretty.  She was dressed in a very flowy, mint green and white perpendicular striped, strappy summer dress that she kept having to hike up so she wouldn’t step or trip on it that showed off her chubby arms, her body slightly jiggling every time she moved.  Her hair was haphazardly toppled on her head with a good amount of it falling out of the hair tie, and she had a sheen of sweat along her brow from how much she had been moving around by herself.  She would be exactly what he would have gone for back in the day.  Curvy, cute, and from what little he’d just gotten from their first interaction, spunky, which he liked.  He rolled his eyes at himself as he set his things down and pocketed his keys.

“Let me help you,” he said, leaning down to the large box.

“Oh you don’t need to—oh!  Nevermind,” she laughed as he hefted the box easily, carrying it across the threshold of her doorway.  

“Where do you want it?” he asked.

“The kitchen,” Y/N said quickly, pointing the way.

Bucky walked toward the kitchen and put the heavy, large box on the counter with a grunt.  “What’s in this anyway?” he asked.

“Cookbooks,” she replied.  

“Just cookbooks?” he asked, looking at her curiously.  “I don’t think I own a single cookbook.”

Y/N laughed.  “Well, I’m a baker, so I’ve gotta have all the recipes,” she explained.

Bucky nodded like it all made sense.  “Well, let me get the rest and you just tell me where to go,” he said, walking back toward the front door.

“You don’t have to do that Bucky, I can get the rest.  That one was the worst one,” she said, following him out.

“Too late, I’m already doing it,” he said, bringing in another box.  

She gave him an appreciative smile and pointed to where she wanted it.  They created a little system as he took the boxes and she told him where she wanted it, which he could easily find since her apartment was just like his layout but flipped.  Within ten minutes he had all the boxes out of the hallway and in her apartment, ready to be opened and unpacked.

“Thank you, Bucky, that would have taken me ages,” she said with a sigh.  “I really appreciate it.  How can I repay you?”

“Don’t worry about it, seriously,” he said walking toward his door and taking out his keys.  

“Well, what’s your favorite treat?” Y/N said before he could get away.  “Are you allergic to anything?”

He frowned at her.  “I don’t have a favorite treat,” he said.  “And I’m not allergic to anything.”

Y/N perked up at that information.  “Alright, well then I’ll repay you in treats until I can find and bake your new favorite,” she said determinedly.

“You don’t have to do that—” he tried.

“Too late, I’m already doing it!” she laughed, repeating his words from earlier as she backed away from him into her apartment.  “Thanks again sweet pea!”  She winked at him then shut the door.

Bucky gawked at her door for a moment.  She was the strangest and most bubbly person he’d met in a long time, and for some reason it was making him smile again.  Why did he feel all giddy when she called him sweet pea?  He shook his head and went inside his apartment, the Irish liqueur calling his name.

[angelbby555]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅ Our get along T-shirt

Summary: Two teens forced in a large white T-shirt. Years later both of you are engaged and rediscover the shirt.

Word count: 1k

⋆. ୨୧˚⋆

When you were younger Bradley and you could never get along. You didn’t have a specific hatred for him but as kids you remember he was the most annoying boy to ever walk the earth.

To Bradley you were just some girl with cooties. Who was uptight about everything; You hated getting messy, you didn't like to play tag, and every time Bradley tried to talk to you, you’d silence him with: “Bradley just shut up, I don’t even care.” You were such a princess on your high horse, Bradley couldn't fight the urge to annoy you with intention instead of just existing. 

Bradley would pull on your cheeks knowing you hated when Carole did that to you. He flicked your forehead watching you scrunch up your face in annoyance. He'd shove you because he was a boy and he could.

One day you went to the mall with your mom, Carole and cone head Bradley. Carole had been craving Cinnabon and shopping all day. It was supposed to be a fun girls hang out but Bradley just had to come and ruin it. 

You were holding your shopping bag, walking next to Bradley and he kept shoving you with his shoulder. He did this every time. When you were walking down the halls at school together, on the sidewalk, by the door frame, for fun. It's like he couldn’t walk properly if he wasn’t pushing you. 

Bradley aggressively rammed his shoulder into yours again, making you stumble. That’s when you had enough. Before you could even think rationally, you bent down and gave a harsh tug to Bradley’s dark blue jeans causing them to pool at his ankles leaving him in his plaid blue boxers. 

“What the hell?!” Bradley’s face turned crimson, pulling his pants up after being pantsed. Your mom and Carole turned to both of you in a disapproving manner. But you didn’t care because you won this round with stupid good for nothing Bradley.

For your constant bickering you both had to face the consequences when you got home for being immature. Bradley was standing in a large white shirt with only one of his arms through the sleeve. Goose forced your head and arm into the big white T-shirt with Bradley. Both of you share a neck and sleeves. The shirt read 'Our get along T-shirt.'

“Ugh! Get me away from this disease.” You shrieked and Bradley rolled his eyes. 

You started pulling your arm out of the shirt but Carole chimed in. “Get out of the shirt young lady and kiss your going out privileges goodBYE.” You huffed at her in frustration shoving your arm back into the stiff cotton shirt. The pair of you craning your necks to the side to get as much distance as possible. 

It didn’t help the situation that Nick filmed the whole thing with his black camcorder. Together neither of you could look at the camera, both too embarrassed to be in shirt made for children when you guys were old enough to know better. For crying out loud you were 15 and still physically abused each other. 

“Look at how cute these two are.” Goose was looking through the viewfinder on the camera while laughing his ass off having the time of his life. 

This would have never happened if Bradley didn’t knock into you. Discreetly you gazed at Bradley with utter disgust, and he was already looking at you. “Stop looking at me.” You grumbled. You were already planning your revenge, perhaps shaving his ugly shaggy hair when he was asleep. 

“You stop looking at me.” Bradley feuded back, pinching your arm, his finger nails sinking into your skin. “Watch your back, phlemwad. Start wearing a belt because you're not safe.” He muttered just so you could hear, pinching you a little harder. 

“Ow!” You yelped. In self defence, with your other hand that was in the T-shirt, You slapped Bradley’s stomach. 

“Mom she just hit me!” Bradley was a tattle tale since day one. Always quick to run to mommy when he was the problem starter. You didn't care though as you delivered a hard kick to his shins where everybody can clearly see your assault. “Fuck you!” Bradley yelled out, bending forward in pain. Since you were trapped in a shirt together you fumbled forward too. 

Carole, who hated Bradley cursing, scolded him. “Watch your mouth Bradley!” Despite being forced into a shirt to get along and being videotaped, the two of you still fought. To get back at you Bradley shoved you with his shoulder making you stumble, which wasn’t a smart idea since you took him tripped down with him.

You could tell by the way your mom watched she wanted to laugh. “Hey! Hey! Hey!” 

“This clearly isn’t working” Carole rubbed her forehead stressed out by the teens that could not work their differences aside. 

“No but, it's funny as hell though.” Goose smiled. When your mom had you, and Carole had Bradley they presumed their kids would be best friends and maybe even date each other at some point. Clearly that wasn’t happening any time soon. 

“We have to put an end to this.” Carole looked at him. Nick’s eyes brightened, having another phenomenal idea.

“Bradley, if you give the sweet girl here a little kissy, you guys are free to go.” Nick's grin grew wider. This was punishment for you guys but for Nick it meant his favorite show was on. 

Bradley scrunched up his face at the thought. “I. Would. Rather. Die.” He emphasized every word.

“Good because if you kissed me I would probably get warts.” You fought back, the parents were now fully entertained and didn't want to deal with the pair any longer.

“Come on Brad, just a little kiss on the cheek and you both are free to go,” Nick reasoned with his son but Bradley didn’t think that was fair.

“Why do I have to kiss her? Can’t she kiss me?” 

“No, because she's a girl, and you don’t wanna be a wuss Brad.” Nick got an elbow to his side from Carole but it only made him smile, while he kept filming. Bradley furrowed his brows weighing out his options. As he was about to quickly peck you on the check you turned your head to look at him, and his lips were on yours for half a second. Bradley looked at you, horrified while he heard his father teasingly say: “Wow there Brad, don’t get ahead of yourself.” 

Bradley quickly got out of the shirt as you stood there blushing. “Ewwww!” All 3 parents were laughing their heads off. Technically Bradley just stole your first kiss. 

⊹☆~⟡⋆

Now both of you are older and engaged. You two were going through Carole and Nick’s attic, sorting through boxes they no longer wanted or needed. In one of the boxes Bradley found the symbolic t-shirt of your past. Bradley showed you the white ‘our get along shirt.’ making you both burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Try it on!” You eagerly demanded, taking a seat on the dusty floor. Bradley began to unbutton Hawaiian shirt, showing off his body that was a work of art. You couldn’t resist looking at him fondly because before he used to be much skinner and pale, and now he was jacked and tan. Bradley pulled the shirt on and by himself he was big enough to fill out the stiff cotton shirt. Together you were laughing so hard, like Goose and Carole so many years before when both of you were forced in the shirt. 

Bradley let out a sigh after laughing. “Wow fits me pretty well now huh?” He stared at the words written in sharpie in amusement.

“Yeah can't fit another person in there anymore,” You stared at your fiancé in pure astonishment, that after all the fighting and bickering both of you were starting a future together.  

“Uh yes it can, this shirt was made for two.” Bradley walked towards you, getting on his knees and stretching the tight shirt over your head, your nose brushed against his chest before your head fit through the neck whole. All grown up, your heads were closer together than last time. Besides the tight squeeze the only difference was that you both wanted to get into the shirt together instead of being forced in it. 

“Aw come on, just a little kissy Bradley.” You playfully quoted the iconic video.

“I’ll give you more than a little kissy.” Bradley growled before crashing his lips on yours.

After that I think Bradley would unironically wear the shirt under his Hawaiian shirt lol and would be very upset if anything happened to it

[asheepinfrance]

thank you @cha11engers for helping. All is owed to you

INT. White Room in a government facility. Our only setting. It's got a sterile feeling, like a hospital waiting room. In it, two chairs face one another. Between the chairs, a large, metal door.

In the left chair is a GIRL. young, skittish, wearing plain, oversized white clothing. She’s fidgeting, head down, visibly nervous.

Across her, CONNOR MURPHY, a young, male, in the same outfit though his hair and clothing are more disheveled with time. He’s calm, unfazed: clearly, he’s been here a while. He’s observing the girl across from him silently. He is cool but fairly unnerving. A man on the verge.

(after a beat)

CONNOR

So… what’s your deal?

(The GIRL looks up like she hadn’t noticed she had company)

GIRL

My deal?

CONNOR

Yeah, your deal. Like, how’d you end up here?

GIRL

I- I don’t- I mean one second I was home, and the next I’m here, so… and what is ‘here’, anyway?

CONNOR

We think it’s some kind of… court or something like that. Think of it as… pest control.

(He laughs. It’s dry)

Post-suicide pest control. We show up, plead our case, and they… whoever they are… get to choose where we go. Reincarnate or rot. Simple, really.

GIRL

If only suicide victims end up here, then don’t you already know my deal?

CONNOR

Huh… I guess I do.

(After a tense pause)

GIRL

You said- you said they choose where we go... so, reincarnation, right? And what about the rest?

(A beat)

CONNOR

What do you think?

GIRL (processing)

Oh.

CONNOR (mocking)

Oh.

GIRL

Well… what about you? How long have you been here?

CONNOR

You see a calendar in here?

GIRL

No…

CONNOR

So your guess is as good as mine, then, isn’t it?

(He’s slightly angry, though it’s masked by that same coolness. Closer to snapping)

I wouldn’t say too long. Days, weeks, months, maybe. Probably not years, though… probably.

(GIRL is dejected, horrified. A potential-end-of-life crisis.)

GIRL

So I just wait here, dead, to what? Die? I mean, they can’t do this! I- I’ve got family who must be worried sick and they'd want me to-

CONNOR

What makes you so sure?

GIRL

What?

CONNOR

If you’re here, they may not have even noticed you left. What makes you so sure they care? What makes you think they know at all?

GIRL

Because I… Because! I just know. I mean, I’m a good person, I don’t deserve to just go and have no one notice. I deserve better than that. I deserve better than all of this!

CONNOR

You think you deserve better or you want to deserve better?

GIRL

Is there a difference?

CONNOR

I think we both know there is. I mean, all of us want to think we’ve done well, but… here we are, learning maybe we haven’t. We deserve what we get or we wouldn’t get it at all.

GIRL

And you’re fine with that? Knowing your life so far has possibly amounted to nothing?

CONNOR

I am now.

GIRL

So you weren’t before?

(CONNOR smiles without any joy, and observes GIRL again)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi hello good morning/afternoon/night<3 I’m quite new to Tumblr and I really like your writing style! I haven’t read too much yet but I think it’s really good, and if requests are open could I please suggest anything Riddle x reader related? If that’s okay, of course.

It’s winter and cuffing season so there’s a WIDE range of fic scenarios I can imagine just now—then again, only if you’re up to it of course, not pressing or anything, I just really like how you write the characters plus Heartslabyul is my fav house and I love Riddle.

Sorry this is long.

Thank you for reading if you do 🫶

Hello, hello, newcomer ^^ I hope you continue to enjoy your time here on this blog~

For your prompt, I decided to go for a prompt of "sick!Reader reunites with Riddle (now Dr. Rosehearts) 10 years later"~ (When I think of winter, I think of getting sick, lmao)

What comes after Ever After?

You didn’t even notice you were falling until you collided with something solid and fleshy. Another body—that of the man that had been walking a little ways ahead of you. He had turned in time to catch you, and now awkwardly held you against his chest.

The buzz of people around you is dullened by your sickness. It’s like you’ve stuffed cotton into your ears, yet your head still spins as if you’ve climbed off a roller coaster. Your eyes and mouth and nostrils are so chapped they burn, your nose running like a leaky faucet.

“Are you feeling alright?” came a posh-sounding voice littered with concern.

Though your head felt heavy as cinderblocks, you managed to crane it and weakly nod. It was a barely passable lie, even to yourself.

“Let me see,” the man insisted. “Are you able to stand on your own?”

“Y-Yes.”

You stepped back with a sniffle—and realized that the man standing before you was a smallish redhead with prim blue-grey eyes. Two strands of hair formed an almost heart-like shape atop his crown. Wrapped up in a pristine white coat, he resembled a rose laid in the snow.

Red hair… heart-shaped… like a rose…

You audibly gasped. “No way. Is that you, Riddle…?!”

He frowned, but it was slight. There was an attempt at a smile, although that, too, was slight. “These days, I go by Dr. Rosehearts—but for an old classmate, just ‘Riddle’ will suffice.” He lifted a hand, allowing it to hover over your clammy forehead. “May I? I fear I lack a thermometer for a more exact reading.”

“O-Oh, sure,” you squeaked, half dazed.

In your delirious state, you wondered if this was even real. Riddle’s touch on your bare skin, his serious face so close, the ease with which you picked up from where you had left off 10 years ago. Those long, drawn out days in a balmy rose garden, the aroma of Darjeeling permeating the air.

It was like a dream, one you weren’t sure if you wanted to take up from.

“… You’re flushed and burning up,” he announced, retracting his hand. “It’s a wonder you were able to drag yourself out of bed. You should have stayed home and rested.”

“Then I’d have missed the reunion,” you protested hoarsely. I’d have missed seeing you again.

“Of all the foolish reasons to jeopardize your health! As a medical professional, I cannot say that I approve of this decision.” Riddle heaved a sigh, his eyes half-lidded and judgmental. Then a brief smile flickered onto his lips. “… But as a friend, I am glad that you feel so strongly about rekindling those lost connections.”

He reached into the pocket of his white coat and retrieved a packet of tissues, offering them. From his other pocket, cough drops appeared. “Here, take these. They should help tide you over for the duration of the event.”

“Thank you,” you said shyly, accepting the items. Your cheeks warmed, and you didn’t know if it was from the cold or from his kindness. “Um…”

“Yes?” he prompted. Patient, steady, like a rock in a river.

“Would you mind walking by me? And staying by me, too. I-In case I get dizzy again!” you blurted out.

Riddle chuckled into a fist. What a lovely, soft laugh he had, like summer wind chimes melting the icicles. “I would be honored to. It would allow me to monitor your condition—and it would also be an excellent opportunity for us to catch up.”

“I’d like that,” you murmured. “I’d like that a lot.”

[victorclays]

[ Had a thought. Word vomited to @fitzjamesbulletwound. Had a breakdown. Here ya go. 🫡 ]

joplittle having a fight. 👍😃👍

after everything, they live together, are together. I don't know what the fight is about. Probably something stupid and small and meaningless.

But they both get... moody, sometimes. Understandably. And Thomas is always so cutting with his words. And Ned's never been good with his words, especially without thinking. So he tries to walk away. Probably just sighs "Tom" after he says something mean. And Edward moves to the door and Thomas says,

"oh yeah. There you go. Leave. Like you always do." And Ned fucking FREEZES. like, hand white knuckled on the door frozen. His shoulders tight. And Thomas hates himself immediately after he says it.

They've talked about what happened. At length. Have gotten past it. Accepted it. And Ned came back, with help. And he watches Ned's shoulders shake once, and then he turns, his eyes are full of tears and he's clearly biting his lip to keep it from trembling.

Tom goes to reach out to him. And Ned fucking flinches. He doesn't leave. Takes his hand off the door. But he goes into their bedroom. Their bedroom. And locks the door.

And Tom feels like shit. Because he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. Had to go too far. Had to win the stupid argument instead of letting Ned leave and collect himself so he could come back and talk it through.

Because Ned, he comes back. He always comes back. Thomas learned that quickly, in some very hard ways.

He probably sits against the door for ages. Asking Ned to open the door for him. Begs him. And maybe like, several hours later he hears the lock click.

By the time he manages to get back to his feet and open the door, Ned is already back in bed. Laying with his face away from Tom. Curled in a tight ball under the covers.

In just his night shirt probably, his hair is a mess already. Anytime his head touches a pillow it's instant bedhead. Tom lives for smoothing his hair down for him.

He probably undresses too and climbs into bed with him, curls himself around Ned, even though he tries to shrug him off. And presses kisses into his hair and neck as he apologizes over and over and over. Maybe eventually just laying there, nose pressed against the back of Ned's neck and he whispers.

"I'm so sorry love, come back to me. Please." And his voice breaks. And then Ned is crying, but he turns in Tom's arms and snuggles up under his chin and just lets Tom keep holding him. And Ned probably mumbles,

"i'm sorry." into Tom's now damp shirt. And Tom just shakes his head and pulls him closer and is like,

"you've nothing to be sorry for. I was being ridiculous." And he soothes at Ned's hair, Ned mumbling back,

"we both were." And Tom laughs, small and tight, but genuine. And then Ned says,

"I'll always come back to you." Whispers it into Tom's throat, his lips warm against the skin there. And Tom sobs, squeezes Ned tight and just says,

"i know. I know that. I do." Over and over as they hold each other. The fight completely forgotten, whatever it was even about. Thomas doesn't remember. Doesn't care. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he has Edward. And always will.

[drrealityslenderverse]

Marble Hornets Pokemon Teams Round 1!

Teams & my reasoning for picking them below the cut:

Hoody/Brian:

1. Pawmot- a Pokémon Brian had pre-MH. Mostly picked because of the "that's some nice hair" line lol. However, Pawmot is also great to have around because he can charge devices like the camera while out living in the woods!

2. Umbreon- originally an eevee he had pre-MH. The color scheme just matches Hoody well & the whole night-theme seems fitting. His specifically is easily aggitated ever since things starting going downhill.

3. Banette- Brian took it in just before things fell apart after finding it at one of Alex's film locations. Banette has prove to be a loyal companion, usually easy going and the one to sooth frayed nerves, but fully willing to curse its enemies. I thought it'd be cool to have a megastone in place of one of its eyes, although Hoody doesn't mega evolve it often. Again, color pallet seemed fitting, but Banette's Pokédex entries also seem fitting for his character.

4. Mimikyu- brought onto the team shortly after he took up the mask and acted as Hoody. His is rather shy and likes to mimic him. Picked mostly because I thought the cloth disguise fit nicely with his cloth mask and the mentions of loneliness in the Pokédex.

5. Yamask- the worrier of the team who showed up one day. I wasn't going to give him a yamask, but the color scheme is so perfect lol. I suppose the whole, 'the mask it carries is of its old face' lore could refer to Brian's life pre-MH.

6. Nickit- Hoody specifically caught one just to steal things like Tim's medicine. This one has a rather childish personality but is always eager to cause trouble by following Hoody's orders. I feel like this one is obvious; I picked it for the team because of its thief skills. I kept it unevolved because it seems cuter and I liked the 'cautious and cunning' description more than Thievul's.

Tim/Masky:

1. Growlithe- Given to him as a child to alert for seizures! Tim worries the poor pup when he goes into the Masky state. This well-trained Growlithe is his closest companion. I had to give him a friendly loyal dog Pokémon and like to think this one's mane has that well-loved stuffed animal texture.

2. Absol- he added this one to his team around the time Alex's project crumbled. Absol came to him in rough shape already and is often grumpy due to years of no one heeding his warnings. I wanted to add one to the team because I feel like Tim's character does warn Jay often of the dangers to stop, but keeps investigating & helping Jay anyway. Absol's colors also match Masky's mask well.

3. Mimikyu- found it one day and it followed him home. This one is curious about things and often helps Masky and Tim find items to help their goals. I wasn't going to add this to his team, but shiny Mimikyu reassembles his mask so I tossed it in.

4. Yamask- haunted him since childhood but Masky didn't add it to his team until the project fell apart. It's friendly and also likes to find tapes to bring back for its trainer. I specifically put yamask on the team for the mask item it carries around, and made it shiny to get it closer to the white mask color.

5. Pangoro- a powerful Pokémon that Masky exclusively tends to use. It's the muscle power to the team. Tim is... wary of Pangoro's aggressive nature but wouldn't feel good about abandoning it. I had to give him something that was a strong hitter since Masky is usually the one to attack. Pangoro's color scheme works well for Masky's mask too.

I didn't give him a 6th Pokémon because I felt like this was a nice line-up. I did consider and espeon or other eeveelution to play off Hoody's umbreon, but decided none really vibed well for me to add.

I also didn't plan on giving them duplicate Pokémon, but I liked yamask & mimikyu for each for different reasons, so there they are. If anything, they could reflect how the two seemed to work together for a time.

[frillydolle]

Hiiii dolle! ۶ৎ

Hope ur well <3 My thought of the day is Fire Lookout Arthur Morgan helping a lost young lady in the woods or talking through the radio to his fellow fire lookout lady friend all night long bc neither of them sleep well ♡ I've been thinking about it all day

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ epilogue spoilers , older!arthur morgan , no tb , umm slightly naive reader?? , mid to low honor arthur.

“anyone there?...”

arthur has been living alone ever since the whole micah situation. everyone had their own lives by now but sometimes he felt lonely since hes now on his own; john and abigail were now married, sadie was a bounty hunter, and the other women had a life of their own. hell, mary-beth became a well-known author. he even bought some of her novels even if they weren't much to his taste.

only now, the age was getting to him. his hair was now speckled with black and white like salt and pepper, his wrinkles were more prominent than beofre, grunts and groans would leave his lips if he's been bending or sitting down for too long due to his back. he didn't mind it too much, he just wanted some company. he missed the gang sometimes, the lively chatter and laughter since it was home.

in recent years, he has never heard a voice through the radio, not one peep. it was forever him, the fire lookout tower and the forest that surrounded him and he'd never complain about nature. hell, his journal is filled with sketches and doodles that he's seen on his travels. it's always been silent. but oh, the way his heart skipped a beat, hearing your sweet through the radio... you seems real kind. who was he to not help a pretty sounding girl like you?

“..hi there, miss. y'alrigh?”

“oh, thank god! i was starting to get nervous.. i think im lost, sir.”

you were a silly girl getting yourself in a situation like that. the region of roanoke ridge wasn't always safe, the dangers of the animals before thirst or starvation got to you first. either way, it was still odd that a soft-spoken girl like.

“i was meetin' my friends on the other side, but i got lost, im not sure what to do.. could you help me? im really hungry..” “i'll do my best to, miss.”

he heard you sigh a relief, the sounds of sticks and leaves being stepped on with every move, the gentle breeze of the wind in the background every time you spoke. you just sound so pretty. he was a little excited to have company again after so long.

“y'see that fire lookout anywhere?”

silence.

“yes! i see it!” you say with an exciting tone, seeing him wave. you waved back, unsure if he could even see you. oh, you were so relieved, you finally saw someone after hours of being lost. you almost had to pinch yourself just to make sure he was real.

and he was real. he was ready to help you.

“make yer way over 'nd ill met ya halfway.”