#i walk across moscow

[ttoshaaa]

Showed my friend some pictures of young michalkov from "i walk across moscow" and she was like "oh…well…he’s not that beautiful here". Bro. Just. Look at this dude. I would kiss this boy 100 times. Seriously

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Vomiting 🤮

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: Jade's been trying to get into your head about Bucky, but he assured you she was just trying to cause trouble between the two of you.

A/N: We are officially half way through the story, lovelies! I'm so happy to be on this journey with all of you! NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The day you and Bucky were scheduled to leave for Moscow, you went to the dining room to say your goodbyes before boarding the Quinjet. The team was gathered around the large dining table when you walked in, plates of Thai food spread across the space. 

“You ordered Thai?” you moaned. “Knowing that I’m about to spend hours in a tin can, stuck eating MREs for who knows how long, risking my life for truth, justice, and freedom, and you order Thai just as I’m leaving? I thought you were my friends! My family! Do I mean nothing to the lot of you?!”

“Relax, drama queen,” Nat said. “I’ll fix you a to-go container.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” you said. “You are a true friend.” You glared around the room at everyone else, pointing an accusing finger. “The rest of you, however… I will remember this.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around you and squeezed your shoulders. “Maybe we can make a detour in Thailand and get it straight from the source, doll,” he said with a laugh.

“I like your way of thinking, Barnes,” you said. Natasha handed you the to-go container and you did a little happy dance. “Thank you, Natty!” you squealed, opening up the container to take a sniff of the deliciousness contained within. 

As soon as the scent of Khao Soi hit your nostrils, you were overcome with a wave of nausea. “Oh my God,” you groaned, shoving the container into Bucky’s arms and throwing your hands over your mouth. You sprinted toward the nearest bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before you were vomiting into the bowl.

As you heaved, you felt a cool, metal hand pull your hair away from your face and a warm flesh hand rubbing circles on your back. “You okay, doll?” Bucky asked, his voice full of concern as you heaved up the contents of your stomach. 

“I think there’s something wrong with that Khao Soi,” you told him once your stomach muscles had stopped spasming. “Maybe the coconut was bad?”

Bucky grabbed a few squares of toilet paper and gently wiped at the sides of your mouth. “Gotta say, it smelled all right to me.” He placed a palm to your forehead. “You’re feeling a little warm. You sure you’re not comin’ down with something?”

“Maybe,” you said, giving it some thought. “I have been feeling really tired lately.” 

“If you’re sick, you know can’t I can’t let you go on this mission,” Steve’s voice came from where he was standing in the doorway. “It’s a liability.”

This was the first time Steve had spoken to you in ages, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the fact that you and Bucky weren’t technically in a relationship anymore. 

“I’m fine, Steve,” you said, but before you could further protest in favor of your good health, another wave of nausea overtook you and you were once again vomiting into the toilet bowl. 

“It’s alright, baby,” Bucky said. “I can do the mission solo. It’s more important for you to rest and get better.”

You nodded, feeling miserable and completely drained now. “Will you help me back to my room, Buck?”

“Of course, sweets.” You flushed the toilet and Bucky helped you stand up. In an instant, he’d scooped you up, carrying you, bridal-style, back down to your room. He deposited you gently on the edge of the tub in your bathroom and poured you a cup of water.

“Here, rinse your mouth,” he said, offering you the glass, and you accepted gratefully. You swished the liquid through your mouth, rinsing away the acidic taste of bile before you spat the water out in the sink. While you were doing that, Bucky brought you a change of clothes, helping you out of your tac-suit and into one of his tee shirts and a pair of pajama pants. 

“Better?” he asked as he tucked you into your bed. 

You nodded, burrowing down into your scarlet comforter. Wanda had been right– it had been permanent, and it was now your favorite bedding. “Thanks, Buck,” you murmured. “I’m sorry we won’t be going on the mission together. I was really looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “But you’ve got nothing to apologize for. I just want you gettin’ better.” You smiled at him as he grabbed your hand and kissed it. “I hate leaving you like this.”

You laughed. “It’s just a stomach bug, Buck,” you said, squeezing his hand in return. “I’ll be right as rain when you get back, promise. But you better go before Steve comes banging the door down for you.”

“Is there anything I can get you before I go?” he asked, brows furrowed with worry. “I could make you some tea.”

“No,” you stifled a yawn. “But thank you. I’m wiped; I think I’m just going to take a nap. Puking is exhausting. We gonna do our calls?” you asked him. Each time one of you was away on a mission, you would call the other once a day, a kind of proof-of-life to ensure to the other you were safe. If a call wasn’t possible, you’d make sure to at least send a text, never wanting the other to worry more than necessary.

“Of course,” he said. He leaned down to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“Buck,” you whined, “I just threw up. You don’t want to kiss me right now.”

“Always wanna kiss you, Pocket,” he said, leaning in again. This time you let him, though you kept it from getting too deep. Yes, you knew you were blurring the lines of the new parameters you had set up for your relationship, but successful missions were never something to be taken for granted, so you would never pass up the opportunity for what could possibly be a last kiss.

“Alright, Barnes,” you said when the kiss broke, “get outta here before Steve comes in and drags your ass out.”

With a final wave, Bucky departed, leaving you alone to drift off, the discomfort in your stomach temporarily forgotten.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[thedeviltohisangel]

Hello!! I love Cass and Bucky so much! Could I request #21 from the injury prompt list?

“Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

Thank youuuu!!!💕💕

INJURY BLURB PROMPT ERA

a little bit of cass' pregnancy with the twins

tw: descriptions of pregnancy, discussions of miscarriage

Cass shifted uncomfortably in her chair for what felt like the hundredth time in the past five minutes. The briefing on strategic intentions in the Soviet Union not keeping her attention in the slightest.

"Is something wrong, Mrs. Egan?" She looked up at the sound of her supervisor and froze at the sight of all the eyes around the table looking in her direction.

"No, sir." Cass was acutely aware that she was the only woman in the room and none of them would understand, or care for that matter, that she was trying to navigate the uncomfortable reality of growing a baby. Especially one that seemed to already have the size of their father. Her fakest smile wormed its way across her face and she attempted to settle back into her chair and focus on the satellite images projected against the screen.

In reality, her hands spent the rest of the brief kneading at her belly in the hopes of inspiring the press of a foot or shift of a hand. It had been a little over a day since she had felt the movement of the little one nestled inside of her and she was beginning to feel anxiety creep up her back. John had been away on an overnight test flight or she would have mentioned it earlier and Cass was certain he would have had her at the hospital before she even finished expressing her concern.

Instead, she was keeping it to herself. Cass had already experienced one miscarriage by herself and she was not looking to repeat the experience. If she could just wait until John got home, he would fix everything and she would be able to sleep again.

"Ma'am, you have missed calls from the section chief, something about a former source in Moscow, and the assistant director sent his secretary down-"

"Mary?" Her assistant paused the list she was reading from her notepad as they both walked purposefully through the halls back to Cass' office. "Your cousin recently had a baby, didn't she?"

"Yes, ma'am. Just last month." Cass rested her hand on Mary's arm and pulled her off to the side of the hall.

"Did she ever express worry that her baby...had stopped moving?" Mary's eyes flickered to Cass' pregnant stomach and back up to her face.

"When's the last time you ate, Mrs. Egan? They say sometimes they just need a little sugar to get going again."

"I was only able to eat a couple bites of breakfast before I got pulled into meetings this morning." Mary nodded.

"I'll get you a Coca-Cola and see what the cafeteria has while you call the section chief?" She ripped the piece of paper with the phone number on it and handed it to Cass.

"Yes. That is a great plan, Mary, thank you." Cass squeezed her hand around Mary's as she took the phone number. "If John calls..."

"Not a word, ma'am. I promise."

"Mrs. Egan! Walk with me." Cass gave Mary another thankful squeeze before she was trotting down the hall to keep up with the man who had called her name. Mary sighed as she watched Cass, who she considered family at this point, and sent a quick prayer to the sky that baby Egan was merely sleepy and would quell all the worries in their mother's mind after some lunch. The little one was already so loved by so many people and Mary couldn't think of two people more deserving of this blessing than Cass and John.

----

The lights were on in the kitchen and the upstairs bedroom suite when John arrived home after his two days away. He was grinning at the thought of seeing his wife again before he even made it to the front door, one night away from their bed on the border of how much he could handle. And not to mention the way he had lost sleep over missing the nightly conversations he had with their little one. Only three more months and he would be able to hold them and kiss them and feel the softness of their cheeks under his finger.

"Cass? Baby?" he called as he closed the door behind him. "Butter?" It was rare that she didn't greet him as soon as he walked through the door if she was home before him and wherever she went, Butter followed. John felt something settle in his stomach.

"Lieutenant Colonel Egan! A pleasure to have you back. How was your trip?" Alice, their housekeeper, came out from the kitchen and reached to take his bag from him.

"It was fine, Alice, thank you for asking. Is my missus around?"

"Her and Sir Butter were taking a bath." John smiled at the nickname and nodded his thanks before heading up the stairs. Her clothes were scattered around the bedroom floor, a few of Butter's toys discarded along with them, the sound of his wife crying sneaking out from under the bathroom door.

John knocked gently before calling her name and opening the door. Butter was licking tears from her cheeks as she held onto him tightly, the dog only sparing John a glance before he was back to comforting his mother.

"Hey, baby," he said softly as he moved to kneel next to her, "what happened?"

"I messed up. I messed up and I'm so sorry." Cass inhaled shakily as she buried her nose in the fur by Butter's collar and he whimpered as if to ask John for help to fix her sadness.

"Ok. Ok, well, tell me what happened and we can fix it. I'll fix it, baby, whatever happened, I'll fix it." He stroked his fingers down her cheek and ached to pull her into his arms.

"I haven't felt the baby move since you left. And I've tried everything. I've asked everyone what to do and I've followed their advice and nothing has worked." He moved his fingers to twine around hers, holding his eyes steady so the fear in them would hopefully stay locked away. She needed him to be strong and steady. His emotions could wait. "And I've already felt this way all alone before and I couldn't...I couldn't..."

John didn't care as he stepped into the bathtub, uniform and all, and pulled her and Butter against his chest. Cass wrapped one arm around him, the other still around her fur baby, and sobbed into his chest.

"Have you...has there been any blood? Any other symptoms?" Like before? Is what he was really asking.

"No. Just a black hole in my chest." Butter whined and dipped his nose under the water to nudge at her belly.

"He's saying his little brother or sister is still in there. And you're always telling me he's the smartest dog in the world, right? Butter would know." John bit the inside of his cheek as he felt a familiar stinging behind his eyes. "Spook, let's dry off and go to the hospital. Just to check and make sure everything is alright." She nodded against his chest.

"Butter's coming too," she stated with a kiss to his nose.

And when the nurses looked at him with confusion as he hopped onto Cass' hospital bed and rested his head on her belly, looking at her with adoration, none of the Egans could have cared less.

"The Doctor will be right with you, Mr. and Mrs. Egan." John's smile was tight as he stood from the chair and paced with his hands on his hips.

"You'd think they'd show a little urgency," he griped as he peered out the door every few steps. It wasn't like his entire fucking world was hinging on the outcome of this visit. He looked over at his wife who was slowly petting Butter with one hand, the other resting loosely on top of her belly.

"No matter what, we'll be ok?" He was at her side in a breath, her hand to his lips and his own palm resting where their baby was.

"Oh, Cass, you're my love. We'll always be ok as long as we have each other." There was a knock at the door, Cass unable to speak as John greeted him and explained what had brought them here tonight.

She held her breath and squeezed her husband's hand as the doctor pressed his stethoscope to her stomach, frowning as he moved it around and pressed again.

"Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay," she whispered as she felt John's hand grow clammy with every passing second. Butter looked ready to bite the doctor if he didn't produce good news.

'Would you like to hear your baby's heartbeat, Mr. Egan?"

"Does that mean...?" Her voice trailed off.

"They sound strong and healthy, Mrs. Egan. Nothing to worry about. Might just be a little cramped in there is all." John chuckled and took the stethoscope that was offered to him, grinning like a school boy on Christmas morning when he heard the steady thumping of his child.

"They sound like Egans," he laughed as Cass let tears of relief drift down her face.

"You were right, my baby," she cooed as she scratched behind Butter's ears. She kissed between his eyes and he licked her nose in return. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Johnny." He squeezed himself next to her as the doctor left to get their paperwork.

"Hey, we knew being parents was never going to be easy. Our baby is just putting us through our paces a little early."

"Yeah. But it will be so fucking worth it to hold them in three months." She closed her eyes against his chest. "I still like the name Gale."

"I told you. We're having a girl." Cass scrunched her nose.

"I'm their mother. It's a boy."

Butter tilted his head. Did they not know there were two?

[mariacallous]

Three days after Kamala Harris was sworn into the Senate in early January 2017, the U.S. intelligence community released a stunning declassified report that concluded that Russian President Vladimir Putin had ordered an influence campaign meant to sway the previous year’s presidential election in favor of Donald Trump and undermine faith in U.S. democracy.

The revelations spurred three high-profile investigations into Russian election interference by lawmakers and special counsel Robert Mueller and would come to dominate headlines for much of the Trump presidency.

As a member of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence, which conducted a wide-ranging three-year investigation of Moscow’s interference efforts, Harris had a front-row seat to reams of highly classified material about Russian intelligence operations targeting the United States. The experience left a long-standing impression on the vice president, according to current and former aides who characterize it as a highly formative experience that left her with few illusions about Moscow’s intentions.

“I see those first few weeks as pivotal, because those were both her and Donald Trump’s first few weeks in Washington,” said Halie Soifer, who served as national security advisor to Harris in the Senate.

A Republican source familiar with Harris’s time on the committee said that during the Russia investigation, members were exposed to “borderline raw intelligence” on Moscow’s interference efforts, which they described as an eye-opening experience, even for long-standing members of the committee. “I think it was sobering for everyone,” said the source, who requested anonymity to share their insights.

The Senate’s final report, which spanned over 1,000 pages across five volumes, is generally regarded to be the most detailed look at aggressive Russian intelligence efforts to make inroads with the Trump campaign and to sway the election in favor of the former president.

The report did not reach a conclusion as to whether the Trump team had actively sought to collude with Moscow for its own advantage.

As part of its investigation, the committee reviewed over 1 million pages of documents and interviewed more than 200 witnesses.

While much of the day-to-day work of the probe was carried out by committee staffers, senators from both sides of the aisle have described Harris as a quick study whose advice on questioning witnesses was sought by seasoned committee staff, according to a 2019 BuzzFeed article.

In public hearings on both the Intelligence and Judiciary committees, on which she also sat, Harris developed a reputation for her prosecutorial style as she interrogated senior members of the Trump administration.

“Members get out of it what they put into it, and she put a lot of time and energy and effort into it,” said the Republican source.

Former aides to the vice president have spoken of how her background as a lawyer also informs her view on foreign policy, placing particular emphasis on the importance of international laws and norms. In a 2019 interview with the Council on Foreign Relations, Harris described the U.S. role in building a “community of international institutions, laws, and democratic nations” as America’s biggest foreign-policy achievement since World War II.

While the House Intelligence Committee Russia investigation was beset by political infighting, the Senate investigation remained bipartisan and largely free of public drama—something Harris has spoken fondly of.

“Every week, members of the Senate Intelligence Committee would walk into that wood-paneled room—no cameras, no public, no devices,” said Harris during a memorial service last year for the late California Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who had been a long-standing member of the committee.

“Senators of both parties who would take off their jackets and literally roll up their sleeves, putting aside partisanship to discuss what was in the best interests of our national security,” she said.

Harris served on the Intelligence Committee, which, alongside the House panel, provides oversight of the sprawling U.S. intelligence community, throughout her four years in the Senate.

In 2018, Harris backed an amendment that would compel law enforcement to obtain a warrant before accessing the communications of American citizens inadvertently gathered under a controversial program that enabled intelligence agencies to conduct wide-ranging foreign electronic surveillance.

She also used the perch to stress the need for greater investments in election security in light of Russia’s attempt to sway the vote, co-sponsoring bipartisan legislation on election cybersecurity.

[buckysgirl-xo]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝

pairing | bucky barnes x fem!reader x loki

word count | 1.6k

warnings | minors dni! smut, nipple play, oral (f receiving), kissing, orgasms, begging, polyamory

synopsis | coming back after a 7 day mission, you were needy and you missed your boys

The minute you returned to the compound after the weeklong mission in Moscow, you sought out your boys.

You knew as soon as you left that you’d miss them, but what you didn’t plan on was the ache you felt from thinking about how you’d have to go 7 days with no orgasms. Bucky and Loki treated you so well that doing it yourself just didn’t work anymore.

By the first hour, you reminisced on the night before from when you said your goodbyes. The goodbye involved more moaning than it did actual words, but it was the best send-off you’d ever received from a lover of yours. Steve immediately asked why you were sweating and if you felt okay.

When you weren’t focused on the task at hand, you were thinking about Bucky and Loki completely ravishing you—pleasuring you in the best way possible. So, yeah, once you set foot in the hangar, you set out on your own mission to find the boys.

Speed walking down the hallway to the common room, you came across Wanda walking the opposite direction.

“In a hurry?” she asked with a smirk. Wanda was the only one in the building who knew of your rendezvous with both the soldier and the demigod. Everyone else only had public knowledge, which was your relationship with Bucky. Loki was never hurt by it. In fact, he preferred it. It was only fair since you and Bucky had already been together when the two of you asked Loki to join in.

It was never complicated, though you were wary about it at first. A polyamorous relationship was something you’d never even considered until Bucky brought it up. He had many fantasies about sharing you with another person—getting to watch as they fucked you silly—and was even more pleased when you mentioned Loki.

It was quite simple, really. Bucky and Loki shared you and you got the pleasure of being with two men who got aroused over your arousal.

“Where are they?” You spoke hurriedly, stopping in your tracks.

Wanda tsked. “Wow. Gone for a week and ‘Hello’ or “how’ve you been?’”

“Wanda,” you muttered. “Look at my face and tell me if I look like I’m in the mood to play this game with you.” Your breathing became shallow as your friend took the time to actually stare at your facial features. You eyerolled and snapped at her. “Wanda!”

“Bucky is in the gym and Loki is in his room,” the witch chuckled. “Geez, someone needs to get laid.”

You continued jogging down the hallway, heading to the elevator. “Why do you think I’m looking for them!? Thanks, love you!” You yelled back at her.

The elevator ride up to the gym felt as if years had passed even though it was only two floors up. You groaned impatiently, squeezing your thighs together to create a little bit of friction. Taking a deep breath as the doors opened, you sprinted towards the glass doors.

Bucky was facing away from you, but your core only ached with need as you eyed his glistening form. His back muscles strained as he lifted the weights and you could hear his grunt of exertion as your arm basically ripped the door off its hinges.

“Buck!”

Luckily, the weight wasn’t above his head because at the sound of your voice, Bucky dropped it and whipped around. Your eyes flitted from his face to his abs and your brain couldn’t stop the image of the night you licked whipped cream off of them.

“You’re back,” he said nonchalantly. He shuffled over to you, eyeing you hungrily. Perfect timing. “I thought I wasn’t seeing you until tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well, things change. Turns out Avengers defeat enemies quickly and efficiently when they’re thinking about being wrecked by their boyfriends as soon as they return,” you replied back. Bucky grinned knowingly, finally reaching your and capturing your lips with his.

“So needy,” the soldier growled against your lips. “Loki?”

“In his room,” you panted. “Let’s hurry, please.”

As the two of you began the trek to your other partner, you wished you had found Loki first so that he could just wave his hand and you’d have exactly what you wanted within an instant. Because with Bucky next you, right in your reach, you had to stop yourself from pushing him into an empty room and shoving his face into your pussy.

With great restraint, you made it to Loki’s bedroom, knocking on the door loudly and repeatedly.

“Norns…” you heard him muffle from the other side. The God swung open the door to find you panting and Bucky’s hand massaging your neck. Before he could make a witty retort about you being hot and bothered, you took our hand and pushed him backwards, Bucky following your every move.

With a flick of his wrist, Loki slammed his bedroom door shut. With another, he locked it. Once more and the room was sound-proofed.

“I need you,” you whispered before smashing your lips to Loki’s. “Need you both.”

Bucky came up behind you, pushing you flush against Loki’s chest, and started kissing your neck. A loud moan ripped through you and if it wasn’t for the boys’ arms wrapped around you, you would have fallen straight to the floor.

It wasn’t long before Bucky ripped your shirt off, your bra coming undone immediately after. Loki lifted you up and deposited you onto his bed, snaking off your pants and underwear.

Your slit was glistening, dripping, throbbing with want. It only intensified as you peered up to see Bucky and Loki scanning your body hungrily.

“What should we do with our girl, Barnes?” Loki rumbled, not taking his eyes off of you. You gulped and looked to Bucky for his answer.

He licked his lips with a smirk adorning them. “I think I’m a little hungry.”

Instantly understanding, you scurried backwards on the bed to make more room for the soldier. Loki situated himself at the headboard so that you could lean against him—his favorite position. Bucky crawled towards you predatorily, snaking his arms around your thighs. Your hands shot down to his head but were pulled away before you could even touch him.

“Now, now, darling,” Loki purred in your ear, sending a sharp shiver straight down your spine. “Didn’t we discuss a little thing called patience?”

You whimpered, your head falling back onto Loki’s shoulder. You could feel Bucky’s breath against your cunt, only making your need worsen. “Please…”

“We only want for this to last as long as possible, my dove,” the dark-haired God said. “Hands behind my back.”

With one last silent plead to Bucky, he only blinked and gave you another sly grin. He agreed with Loki. You had to withhold an aggravated groan, knowing it would only end in punishment, as you lifted your arms to link behind Loki’s toned back. Moments later, he reached behind himself and pressed a hand to your wrist, sending a cooling sensation over them and locking them in place. It wasn’t the first time it’s happened and it most definitely wouldn’t be the last.

That was another benefit of Loki joining this partnership; his magic could do wonders. From bondage to vibrations, Loki’s seidr was a gift. One that you never took for granted.

Though, right now, in this instance, you wish he hadn’t used it. You wanted to touch your boys as they touched you but seems as if the two of them have different plans.

 Bucky spread your thighs wider, taking in the sight before him. “So pretty, baby. So wet for us.” He blew on your pussy, the cold air giving you goosebumps. You whined in desperation.

“Buck, please…”

“You think she’s waited enough, Loki?” He teased. Loki chuckled from behind you, reaching around to lightly trail is fingers from your ribs to your hip. You hissed, attempting to arch away from the demigod’s touch. You only reacted that way when you’d been touch-starved.

“I’d say so, Barnes.”

You couldn’t even prepare yourself for how fast Bucky dove straight for your core, licking up your slit to gather the accumulated slick. You screamed out loudly, mentally thanking Loki for sound-proofing the room. Your arms squeezed against your partner’s sides as Bucky devoured your cunt like a full course meal. His tongue flicked against your clit, another whimper and moan escaping your lips.

“I love those pretty noises you keep making, pet,” Loki uttered next to your ear. He sneakily brought his hands to your breasts and began rubbing your hardened nipples, his touch barely there. Your breath came out shaky as you hummed in pleasure.

You focused on Loki’s fingers gliding over your nipples as Bucky sucked on your clit and God, you were in heaven. This was what you’d been waiting for.

“B-Buck!” You stuttered. “Mm—close.”

The soldier didn’t let up. He licked faster and with more intent. He wanted to give you the best orgasm you’d had in months. Loki assisted; his nimble fingers pinching and rubbing your nipples as he kissed your neck repeatedly.

“Such a good girl, love. Come on and cum for us,” Loki praised you, nipping at your earlobe. Those words were just enough to push you over the edge, an orgasm ripping through you. Your thighs clenched around Bucky’s head as he lapped up your cum and let out a wanton moan. You spasmed each time Loki flicked your sensitive nipples.

The boys let you ride it out, not stopping until your breathing returned back to normal. Your head lay limp on Loki’s chest while Bucky placed soft kisses to your inner thigh.

“You are so fucking exquisite,” Bucky stated in between pecks. “I could do this all night.”

“Would you?” You questioned quickly. Loki snickered while letting his hands roam every inch of the smooth skin on your belly.

“So, so eager,” Loki spoke deeply. You hummed in agreement.

“If this is what it gets me, I’ll have to go on more missions.”

[bunnyywritings]

i went out with two good friends for drinks tonight to like catch up and lowkey highkey spill the chisme…the gossip, if you will and this idea came to light

just to preface, i’m not drunk, i know my limits but after getting a nice buzz my lips tend to get loose

what i mean is that i’m a super super introverted person and even with people i’m close with, i tend to hold back for fear of being told i’m “too loud/obnoxious” but after a few drinks, i get comfortable and speak more without being self conscious

anyways

all i can think of is, joining nanami and your other co-workers for drinks after work.

being teachers at jujutsu tech was…interesting, to say the least. and it’s nice to unwind with drinks and friends.

everyone was overjoyed that you had finally agreed to join. always having received a, “maybe another night,” or “i’ll have to pass” from you.

as you all settled in at the bar that had been chosen by shoko this time around, you began to browse the menu, half listening to the rant coming from gojo.

reading through all the appetizer options and their chose of cocktails, menu shaking within your grasp.

you were a little nervous. you were surrounded by friends but this was really uncharted territory for you, and the fact that nanami had chosen the seat right across from you hadn’t helped one bit. it took every ounce of self restraint to not ogle and drool over him.

His tie was loosened, first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, suit jacket abandoned in the backseat of his car, sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, and his hair unkempt. Having ran his fingers through it a few times since he had clocked out.

as you read over the cocktail list for the millionth time, totally checked out, you missed when the lovely waitress had come by the table.

“(y/n)…” geto’s smooth voice from beside you had startled you greatly. your heart stopping when you realized everyone’s eyes were on you.

“o-oh what….uhm, yes?” your cheeks flushing when you made eye contact with the waitress.

ever so patient, she smiled softly. “would you like a drink to start with?”

“we ordered a few appetizers for the table, already.” geto informed you as your leg started to bounce underneath the table.

“oh! right-uhm right, yes. i’ll…i’ll take a uhm-“ you really wished the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. “would i be able to do the-the moscow mule with…with tequila?”

“of course! is agave okay with that?”

“y-yeah, yes. agave is great.” you took a deep breath as you handed her your menu, watching as she easily stacked it with the others already in her arms.

“alright, i’ll have your orders out shortly.”

as she walked away, you groaned and buried your face in your hands. thoroughly embarrassed.

“you okay?” geto chuckled teasingly.

“m’just tired…” your voice was muffled but he understood.

he just smiled knowingly, patting your knee in comfort before turning to back to his conversation with shoko and urahime.

once everything was brought to the table, you relaxed.

“how have your students been as of late?” nanami’s voice rumbled over the loud volume of the music, eyes sincere as his thumbnail picked at the softening label of his beer.

“they’re uhm, they’re great, i was worried they wouldn’t take to me well but we’ve gotten along surprisingly well.” you sipped your drink, cheeks a glowing, rosy red as the tequila took its affects.

“that’s always reliving, isn’t it? they speak very highly of you, that’s quite the feat.” his praise made your heart swell, the thought of your students bragging about you was heartwarming.

“yeah…i guess it is. i mean, they don’t make it too hard.” he watched fondly as you preened, a gentle smile on your lips as you, no doubt, thought about them. “they’re quite the lovable bunch.”

as the night went on and you were a few drinks in, nanami enjoyed seeing how open you had been.

joining in on all the rowdy laughter and jokes, even going as far as playfully poking fun at gojo, who had been stone sober but had acted as if the total opposite were true.

“you know, (y/n), i’m surprised you’re still single.” mei mei sipped her drink, everyone glancing at the both of you in great interest.

“really? how so?”

“i mean, that so called ‘friend’ of yours seems quite taken with you.”

you frowned in confusion, head tilting aside like a lost puppy, nose scrunching as you stirred your drink. “what friend?”

“the one you brought to the last happy hour you attended.”

you searched your hazy mind for who she could have possibly meant. the last time you had gone out for drinks with everyone was when you first took the job, almost a year ago.

“i brought a friend around you guys?” the friendly fire brought a snicker out of geto, gojo laughing wildly beside him.

“you did. tall, handsome, dark hair. he was a…lawyer? if i’m remembering correctly.”

then it clicked. “ohhhh! oh! higuruma?”

nanami fought the urge to scoff. he remembered quite well. he thought that man was obnoxious and too proud.

“nah, he is just a friend. totally not my type anyways.” you finished the remainder of your drink, feeling wonderfully floaty as you sat back in the uncomfortable chair.

your candid and uncharacteristic reply had caught everyone’s attention, eyes bright and playful as they hoped to get an answer from you.

“what is your type, anyways?” gojo stirred the pot as he eyed nanami knowingly.

“he’s also not that tall, mei mei.” you giggled, totally trying to sidestep gojo’s question.

“your avoiding the question!” shoko pointed at you, chuckling as you rolled your eyes.

“oh i don’t knowww…” you drawled, unashamed as you let your eyes fall on nanami.

your gaze sent ice water through his veins. want and something he couldn’t quite place was swirling in your lidded eyes before you sluggishly turned back towards everyone else.

“hmmm well, he’d have to be tall. like-“ your gaze snapped back to the blonde, his eyes widened as you asked, “nanami, how tall are you?”

“uhm…i believe about six feet tall.”

you hummed in acknowledgment, turning back to everyone else. “he’d have to be about six feet tall…i think he’d obviously have to be a sorcerer or at least, like know about it. level headed, broad shoulders, gorgeous eyes-“

nanami had to look away to attempt to hide his blush. red crawling up his neck, past his face and to his ears, missing the rest of your description in straight up disbelief.

“-and, i guess maybe blonde but i don’t know…” you sipped on your, now, refilled drink and shrugging nonchalantly. “it’s not really a deal breaker.”

your group had burst our in raucous laughter. amused disbelief could not begin to describe how unbelievable this whole situation was. especially, since you were a little unaware as to why it was so funny.

“why? do you know anyone you could set me up with?”

gojo wiped a tear from his eye. “i think there’s someone i have in mind…”

content and unaware, you smiled. “well, send him my way! i can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me, satoru.”

one more round and a shot later, you were home and in bed by 2am.

a few hours later, with a slight headache and a clear mind, you almost exploded with embarrassment when you realized that intoxicated you had basically confessed that nanami kento was your ideal man.

“-how could you just sit there and let me expose myself like that!” you whined into your phone. suguru, who was on the other end of the call, simply laughed. his shrug almost audible through the speaker.

“you were so happy and incredibly drunk, i thought you knew what you were saying.”

“i wasn’t that drunk…some friend you are.”

“oh come on now, don’t be like that…” you could still head the amusement lingering in his voice. “he probably won’t even remember. if memory serves, he had drank a few more beers than usual…maybe it’s totally forgotten.”

as he said this, there was a knock at your door.

not thinking too much about it, you shuffled out, still in your pajamas. hair ruffled and face imprinted with the wrinkles of your pillow.

“still! i don’t think he was inebriated enough to-“

as you opened the door, your voice trailed off in disbelief.

there he stood. nanami kento. in casual sweat pants and a t-shirt, holding a take out bag with what smelled like mouthwatering breakfast sandwiches and a drink carrier with two coffees.

“(y/n)? hello?” suguru’s voice was muffled as your hand dropped to your side.

the only thing he heard was, “nanami…?” before you dropped the call.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unsolicited 19

Warnings: bad self-thought/talk, bullying, insults, low self-esteem, money problems, oral/noncon, coercion, cum, some untagged sexual and dark elements.

Wouldn’t mind some feedback! Lloyd was driving me nuts so I had to do it. Thank you in advance 💜

Masterlist

Your chest sinks as you see the familiar marquee. It’s the same restaurant you and Colin went for your forfeited date. You cringe and look over at Lloyd’s knowing smirk. It’s intentional. He never does anything without malice. You don’t say anything, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I figured you never got to have your big date and hey, this time, you got an upgrade,” he winks at you as his shifts into park, “isn’t daddy so generous?”

You bite down and remember how you fled in humiliation. His words echoing in your ears. "She calls me daddy…" It’s a bitter sort of irony.

“Thank you… daddy,” you force out.

“Ah, don’t act like you weren’t just clenching my fingers like a mousetrap,” he taunts, “if you’re good, I’ll finish the job.”

He smirks and puckers his lips, taking a deep whiff of his mustache. You grimace and undo your seatbelt, sickened to your core. You get out and he mirrors you a step behind. He comes around and grabs your arm, ushering up towards the restaurant.

“I didn’t have to bring you, lamb chop,” he girds, “I got a dozen girls who will drop their panties to be here.”

You tweak a brow but again, you withhold a retort. What do you care about those women? Sounds like a lot of smoke to you.

You enter and the hostess greets him by name. He would be memorable, he always makes sure of it. You’re happy she doesn’t seem to remember you but you recognise her from that disastrous night. How could you predict that the douchebag in Gucci would haunt your existence so entirely?

As the hostess leads you between tables, Lloyd drops his hand and squeezes your ass. He turns and whispers above your ear, “babe, you see anyone you know?”

He gropes you as you try not to trip in your heels and you glance around. You latch onto Lloyd’s coat without thinking as you see a familiar buzzcut and blond ringlets bouncing with laughter. You can’t breathe as you walk past Colin and her. Ali. The other woman. He brought her there, to your place…

“Don’t panic, baby,” Lloyd says under his breath, “he ain’t gonna win this.”

You’re sat at a booth. You hand over your coats as the hostess offers to check them and you settle in as Lloyd slides around the seat to sit close to you. He crowds you, slinging his arm over your shoulder as he flips over the drink menu. He drags his finger down the wine list.

“I hear there pinot is pretty good,” he drawls before turning the page, “you pick out something sweet for yourself, baby cakes. A nice strong cock…tail.”

You ignore how he drags out the last word and peruse the menu. The apple sounds good but you’re not in the mood for it. You settle on a Moscow mule as Lloyd signals for the server. A man appears in sleek black and offers to take his order. You put in your request before Lloyd asks for his usual.

“Oh, and garcon,” Lloyd calls the server back, “can I send a bottle of pinot to that table?” He points across the restaurant, “yeah, the one with bleach blond bimbo. Thanks.”

You smile at the man until he’s gone and his under your breath, “Lloyd, what–”

“Don’t question me,” he chides as his hand slips down your side, “and you know what to call me.”

He squeezes so his fingers curl painfully into your waist and you wince, “yes, daddy. I’m sorry.”

“A few drinks will loosen you up,” his hand descends to your hip and rests just above your ass, “well, most of you.”

“This isn’t fun for me.”

“It will be,” he sits back and feels around his jacket with his free hand, “gimme a sec, I needa make a phone call.”

He retracts his arm from around you and sidles around the bench. You watch him stride away and into the back hall near the kitchens. He looks taller than usual, his figure refined by the tailoring. It makes you feel like even more of a slob.

The server returns with your drinks and you thank him. Lloyd’s whiskey sits untouched as you take a sip of the mule. He returns and drops onto the bench with a sigh as he smooths his shirt. He keeps his head high as he peers around.

You look over as the server presents a bottle of white wine to Colin’s table. The man points over to you and both head crane around to see. Lloyd waves and shoots a finger gun at them as he hooks his arm around your neck and pulls you close to kiss your cheek sloppily.

“This is gettin’ me hard, sweetheart.”

“Stop,” you plead as you sit rigidly and hide your discomfort with another swig of alcohol.

“Hey, this is just the warm-up, I got a whole show planned,” he takes away the glass and sets it down, grabbing your chin as he forces your head around. 

He smothers you with his lips, kissing you deeply as he leans over you, nearly crushing you down against the seat. You gulp in surprise as his tongue invades your mouth. You murmur and grasp at his chest. What the fuck is he doing?

“Oh, baby, you taste nice,” he pulls back and forms a V with his index and middle finger around his mouth, wiping away your lipstick lewdly as he flicks his tongue at you, “go on and touch me. See how hard I am.”

“Oh my god–”

“Did I tell you, you look delicious? Because I’m gonna fucking gobble you up until you’re shaking–”

“Jes–”

The server interrupts your disgust and Lloyd shows now shame as he keeps you close to him. He smirks up at the young man and orders himself a steak before ordering you a pasta dish. You don’t argue as you hadn’t even seen the menu.

“You’re a lobster gal, right? Doesn’t fucking matter ‘cause you’ll eat what I give you but… sometimes you make me think. You know, not many woman do that.”

“Uh…” you squint and reach for your drink again.

“Don’t get too fucking drunk, baby, I don’t want you passing out as you’re choking on my cock.”

You puff your lips out in exasperation. You have no idea how to have a conversation with this man. He trails his hand back around your lower back and walks his fingers up your leg. You shift and pull your legs tight. He taps you and risks, urging your thighs apart as he slides his fingers between them.

He pushes his hand up your skirt and you grip the edge of the seat to keep from squirming. You’re overly aware of all the people around you. Your heart pumps hotly as you squeak.

“Someone will see–”

“Only if you make a show of it.”

A glimmer of your former arousal lingers and he glides along your folds. Your eyes fall on Colin as Lloyd searches out your clit and you swallow loudly. You sit frozen, mortified as your husband looks up from his plate. The bottle of wine is still corked as he dines in silence with his mistress.

His blue eyes widen as your lips part in a gasp. Lloyd swirls his fingers cloyingly around your cunt, spreading the slickness up and down, and toying with your bundle of nerves. He growls and you peek over as he glares across the restaurant at Colin.

“That’s it, baby, I want him to see you cum for me,” he snarls and bites his lip, “you’re already close, aren’t you? Daddy’s little slut about to make a mess.”

“Please…” you wisp as you clasp your hand around his wrist.

He drags his fingers down and shoves two knuckles deep into your cunt. You snap your mouth shut and hold back a moan. He squeezes so the heel of his head comes flush to your clit and he rocks his hand.

“Put your hand on my dick,” he rasps, “now.”

Senseless, you obey. You reach to touch the front of his pants and feel the rigid shape pressing eagerly against the fabric. You grab him firmly, feeling his thick bulge as it twitches in your hand. You groan and quickly smother it as you cover your mouth.

“I can’t wait to split you in half later,” Lloyd breathes, “you think cuck boy will wanna watch that too?”

[alltaternotot]

Looking Glass | N. Zadorov

Nikita Zadorov x tailor! Reader

Summary: Nikita is trying to find a new suit tailor after his retires, and he is surprised to find a small tailor shop with all kinds of surprises, even beyond the suit

WC: 11k

CW: fluff, smut, relatively slow burn, strangers to friends to lovers?? swearing, limited knowledge about tailoring/suitmaking, the use of the words “suit” and “hand” a million times, light proofreading. Let me know if I’m missing something!

NSFW (MINORS DNI): fingering, p n v, in the mirror, clothed sex, so much praise it’s not even funny, Z likes to talk, consent checks, creampie (BE RESPONSIBLE! WRAP IT!), aftercare, this one got HORNY so be warned.

A/N: cuz we all love a giant pretty man in a nice suit ;)

<><><><>

1 - the meeting

“I’m sorry Nikita, I’m retiring in two weeks, I’m finishing your last suit order then I can’t take any more. But I really do appreciate your business over the years, my friend.” Nikita’s tailor, Dimitri, said over the phone in Russian.

This was a little bit of a shock to Nikita, as his tailor had been designing and fitting his suits from day one, all the way back in Colorado. His closet was piled high with suits he would never stop loving, years and years of designing a look that was perfect for him.

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m thankful I could at least get one last suit from you. I hope retirement treats you well, call anytime if you find yourself in Vancouver.” He said, earning a light hearted chuckle on the other line.

“Will do Nikita. Your suit will be on its way to you in the next few days. Best of luck this season.”

They ended the call with the usual goodbyes and made his way over to his closet, pulling out his navy pinstripe suit for the game coming up in just a few hours. His ex used to pick out his suits every game day, but now that they had been broken up for some time he started to enjoy the freedom of wearing whichever suit he felt like. His style was his own after all.

He burned the day away, working out and skating in the morning, eating a light lunch and watching some new show that Quinn had mentioned. He felt calm and ready for the evening ahead. The game hadn’t changed in that way for him, he still loved it like he did as a little boy back in Moscow.

It was finally time to get dressed, his favorite part of his game day routine. He threw on a crisp white button down with a burnt orange tie, one that stood out against the rich blue of his suit. He slipped his legs into the soft fabric of his dress pants, then his large arms into the sleeves of his jacket, he opted for sunglasses, one of his gold watches, and a spritz of his favorite cologne. Finally, he slipped his feet into his nice warm brown dress shoes and did up the button on his suit.

He let out a sigh, admiring his outfit and fixing a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. The floor length mirror across from his bed lit him up perfectly. He looked sharp and professional, the kind of look that seeps confidence. He loved dressing the part of a millionaire athlete, there was no denying that. He shuffled around his room, picking up his essentials before throwing them all into their respective places in his pockets. He was ahead of schedule today and feeling a little bit more antsy to go. He pulled his front door shut and locked it before spinning on his heel towards the elevator.

The only thing he disliked about his his large apartment was the parking. He took the elevator down into the labyrinth of a parking garage his building had, low ceilings and mess everywhere. They had construction going on for the past two weeks or so, mildly inconveniencing him quite a few times. He would walk along the barrier of the construction to his waiting car every game day, trying not to let all of this piss him off. He pulled his phone out to pick a song, one earbud in, trying to keep his mind on the game ahead. Suddenly, he brushed the chicken wire fence that was up to close off a good 15 parking spots. He heard a rip and some pressure on his arm, right near his shoulder. His hand flew to his shoulder, almost trying to save it from what already happened.

“Shit!” He exclaimed to no one in particular. His fingertips were in contact with a decent sized rip right on the seam of his sleeve, a little hole showing the white shirt underneath.

He untangled himself from the chicken wire, not wanting to pull any more fabric, before jogging up to his car window to examine the tear. Luckily, it looked like just the seam was torn, so hopefully it was an easy fix. He didn’t want to go back upstairs and plan an entirely new outfit, so he just got in the car and left the stupid parking garage. He knew he would get an earful from the guys and probably a go-around meme post on Instagram about the visible rip, but at this point he just wanted to leave and get ready for the game.

The drive was maybe fifteen minutes without traffic, but usually ended up being closer to 30. He spent most of that time mentally preparing with soft music playing on a normal day, but this whole ordeal left him brooding with displeasure about nearly ruining one of his favorite suits. He was first at the light on one of the corners that he always passed on this route, when he noticed a shop he had never noticed before.

It was a little shop right next to a corner store, a chalkboard sign out front reading Suits! Dresses! Tailoring! He perked up a little at the sight of a tailor, the rip on his shoulder almost taunting him. He pulled off the road, right into a parallel spot on the cross street, getting out and almost running up to the door of this place. It really did look unassuming from the outside, but inside was really glorious. A bell chimed as he stepped inside and took it all in.

There were bolts of fabric stacked up taller than him, and designs of beautiful dresses and suits scattered around on mannequins, amazing colors and patterns on full display. There was a small counter and a desk, catalogues and thick design books littering both tables. He could hear a few people talking somewhere in the back, or rather one person shouting numbers and the other repeating them.

“Just a second!” A voice echoed from somewhere behind the bolts of fabric.

A woman appeared from a back room, a tape measure hanging around her neck snd and a notebook in her hands, scribbling down numbers on the page. She was short (even though pretty much everyone was short to Nikita) and very pretty. She wore a nice blouse and a mid length skirt, all topped off with a pair of nicer looking heels. It almost caught him off guard, like he was blindsided by meeting someone so pretty on a normal work day.

“How can I help you?” She asked, looking up, then up again to meet his eyes.

“Hi, umm, I know this is a weird ask but I am almost late for work, and I accidentally ripped the seam of my sleeve. Would you be able to fix it quickly? If not, totally fine, I’ll just be on my way.” He explained, turning to show her the tear in his shoulder.

“I can do that! Do you have maybe 10-15 minutes?” She asked, his eyes falling to his watch to check. He would turn out to be right on time.

“I think so.” He murmured, taking his phone out of the inside pocket and the jacket fully off.

She took the jacket, giving it a once over, then opened a tub of spooled thread sitting on one of the tables not too far from where he stood. He watched her pull out a tray of blues, holding them up to the blue of his jacket, then replacing them till she found an almost perfect match to the rich navy. She threaded a needle with lightning speed and flipped the jacket inside out to pull the seam together and pin it, deciding it would be the fastest to just stand at the desk and hold the massive jacket in her hands.

She could see how the sleeves accommodated large corded muscles in his arms, and how well done the work was. Whoever made this suit certainly did an excellent job and took his measurements down to the millimeter. She let herself look up at him briefly, his attention now on a deep purple suit displayed in the corner.

He was larger than life and had a confidence about him that was hard to ignore. His frame was perfectly accentuated with the cut of his suit pants and the button down he wore. His hair was perfectly cut and his sunglasses were perfect for his handsome face. The scar running through his lip down to his chin gave him a tough, no bullshit kind of look that only added to his confidence. He had a great taste in cologne, the spicy warm scent wafting through her senses from having his jacket. Even his accent was like a deep, rich honey being pouring from his lips. She pictured him as a hit man, or a spy, or some sort of agent. Something fantastic.

Once the stitching was done, she took the jacket over to one of the many massive mirrors on the wall and flipped it back, looking closely at the seam to make sure it was straight. Nikita walked up behind her and she offered up the jacket.

“Try that, hopefully the seam sits straight on your shoulder.” She remarked, watching him slip his big arm through the sleeves and button it back up.

He turned in the mirror, running a large finger over where the rip once was, now perfectly hidden by a straight seam. It was like nothing ever happened to it. He cracked a smile and turned back to the woman, yanking on the hem of the jacket to straighten himself out.

“That’s perfect. How much do I owe you?” He asked, pulling out his wallet.

“Oh don’t worry about it! It was just a quick stitch!” She exclaimed, holding her hand up in a stop gesture when he tried to hand over a fifty dollar note.

“Really, I insist. You’re saving me a lot of embarrassment with my… coworkers.” He said, circumventing the fact that his coworkers are in fact teammates on the most famous sports team in the area.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal. I’m just glad you let me work on this amazing suit. Your tailor is a magician!” She joked, and he just smiled.

“What was your name? I’ll be sure to recommend you for any fixing my coworkers need done on their suits.” He said, grabbing a business card from the desk.

“My name is Y/N, but the people who own this place are Rob and Krista. Any of us would be happy to help!” She exclaimed.

“Great. I’m Nikita. It’s nice to meet you, but I have to run. Thanks for everything!”

He turned on his heel to leave, sending a gentle wave her way before picking up the pace back to his car. When she turned around, the 50 dollar note was sitting on the desk, inconspicuously next to the pile of business cards he grabbed from. She let out a chuckle and let the fantastical daydreams of secret agent Nikita fill her mind up as she pocketed the note.

“Who was that Y/N?” Rob asked, emerging from the back holding the plans for a custom gown he was making.

“He just needed a seam stitched, no big deal.” She muttered, and he hummed at the far of gleam in her eye.

<><><><>

2 - the outing

Nikita scored two goals and got an assist that night. He was on top of the world and couldn’t come down. When the final horn sounded he found himself thinking of Y/N, and how the blue thread she used must have weaved some luck into him.

After his post game shower and doing media he found himself back at his locker, pulling his suit back on to return home. His button up was on, no jacket or tie, and he was almost done loosely tying his right shoe so he could finally leave. Quinn and Brock were close by, chatting with each other about the game.

“Fuckin rights Z, what a game!” Brock exclaimed, clapping a hand on his back, “What’s with you huh? Where’d all that goal scoring energy come from?”

“Just a good night I guess, nothing too crazy.” He responded, a little reluctant to share why he truly thought he was finding the back of the net.

He stood, quickly going back over to the sink to give himself a once over before finally leaving. Out of curiosity, he flipped the seam of his jacket into the light of the mirror in front of him, eventually finding a section of the seam that was a slightly different color with two tiny knots at each end. He smiled to himself and flipped it back, throwing it over his arm. Quinn and Brock watched, also curious why Nikita was all of a sudden examining his jacket. The looked at each other with a shrug, and let it go.

~ two weeks later ~

The universe had a funny way of treating Nikita sometimes. JT Miller gave him a call, basically begging him for a tailor recommendation. He said that ‘nothing was fitting well’ and that ‘you should know Nikita, I’ve never seen you wear a bad outfit!’. He was absolutely happy to give JT the information, and he told him that he had a suit he needed to get fixed anyway. He didn’t, but he wanted an excuse to go see Y/N and try to thank her in a hopefully normal sounding way for giving him good luck. They made a plan for their next day off in two days.

“Ah, perfect…” Nikita muttered to himself, digging out a beige jacket that he had made years ago, one that had a ripped inner pocket, buttons missing, and a weird seam wrinkle that wouldn’t go away. He had been digging around in his massive closet for close to an hour, trying to find something to bring to the tailor so it didn’t look like he was acting as the peanut gallery for JT, and now Elias as well, who weaseled his way into their trip because of similar reasons to JT.

A knock sounded at his door, Petey and JT both with their suits wrapped up in bags. They were dressed casually. Nikita offered to drive them all, making sure to avoid the chicken wire fence despite being in a black t-shirt and shorts. The drive was short and easy, but his heart beating with a flutter of excitement made it slightly harder to focus.

The bell chimed in the doorway when they entered, the sound of people talking in the back filling the men’s ears. JT and Petey had a similar reaction to the state of the store as he did the first time, both of their mouths falling open in surprise.

“Welcome in, gentleman. What can we help you with today?” An older man stepped up to the counter, a confident smile making his crow’s feet appear.

“Hi! I believe we talked on the phone a few days ago about some repairs the three of us need done? My name is JT.” He said, shaking the man’s hand earnestly.

“Ah yes! We would be happy to help! Let me go grab the other two.” He said, retreating to the back again.

This time, Rob, Krista, and Y/N all came up front. Y/N hadn’t been expecting secret agent Nikita to be standing there. He offered a gentle wave, and she offered one back as Rob began consulting JT while Petey introduced himself to Krista.

“Back with friends I see! How did the seam turn out for you?” Y/N inquired, coming up close to him.

“Very well. It’s holding up perfectly so far.” He answered, letting his hand fall on top of the jacket folded over his arm, “I actually have another one I could use your help with.” He said, offering up the beige jacket.

“No problem! We should be able to get them done in a day or two-“

“We can get these done today for you gentleman! You are more than welcome to hang around, it shouldn’t be too long.” Rob announced to everyone.

Y/N was a little surprised at this. Rob wasn’t usually the type to cut out time for walkins when his plate was stacked high with custom orders. Krista also seemed unbothered. She had been working on a dress that was due to the client in two days before they all came in, which normally took precedent over whatever little fixes came and went.

“Are you sure Rob? Mrs. Fueller’s dress needs to be done soon?” Y/N asked under her breath as they walked out of earshot.

“I will gladly finish suits for Vancouver Canucks players same day Y/N, it would be insulting to our great hockey town to not!” He exclaimed jovially.

It all clicked for her then, why Nikita was in a rush and dressed so well. Why him and his friends were also so athletic looking. Nikita also heard, eyes going wide as his cover crumbled right in front of him. He wanted just a few more moments of bliss without the fanfare, selfishly. He offered a sheepish smile to her when she looked back at him, feeling a little caught despite not really doing anything wrong.

She retreated to get her kits, still holding onto the jacket. This one smelled faintly of that warm spicy scent she loved last time. This one would be a relatively quick fix like the last one. She took the space at the front desk so Rob and Krista could have the work spaces in the back. They called Petey and JT into the back work space, leaving Nikita to wander.

As she came back up front, she found Nikita in front of a dark green suit, pulling at the sleeve and rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He noticed her sit and turn the lamp on, laying his suit out on the smooth surface. He made his way back over to her, not resisting his urge to talk to her. His presence was strong and steady as he watched her rip the thread from the buttons left on the suit.

“I’m starting to think you’re clumsy, Mr. Canuck. Two suit coats in two weeks?” She joked, and he took a seat in the leather chair placed in front of the desk.

“I try not to be. I just like to be on my game with my suits y’know?” He answered, letting a twinge of guilt rip through him for not being totally honest about who he really was, “I’m sorry I wasn’t up front about who I was at first.”

“It’s ok, I understand. I’m sure you have people stopping you at every corner.” She answered as she pulled buttons out of their little plastic case.

“Not much of a hockey fan?” He asked.

“I grew up New Mexico, so there wasn’t much hockey around. Once I moved here I never totally caught on. But I like it when I see it! I know you guys have played well this season!” She explained.

He hummed in approval, “you should come see a game. It’s a lot of fun to see it live. I’ll even score a goal for you.” He joked, and she laughed along with him.

“Maybe I will.” She agreed, now moving on the inner pocket.

They continued to talk, just sharing about themselves and other light topics. He was absolutely endeared by her, her quick wit and personality shining through as they continued along. He learned that she moved to Vancouver for college and never left. This job was essentially dumped in her lap and it was too enjoyable to abandon. She could execute her favorite designs and get paid a decent wage.

Nikita’s coat was all wrapped up with all repairs made flawlessly, his old suit jacket returned to rights. He took it back, slipping a 100 dollar note into her kit when she tried to refuse him again. Now it was a waiting game for his teammates. He could see Petey with a tape measure in his armpit and JT looking through a few bolts of gray fabric; he guessed it would be a little while before they wrapped up. He perused the mannequins, taking note of the beautiful craftsmanship. He stopped at the double breasted dark green suit again, taking a good long look at it.

“I designed that one, y’know.” Y/N piped up, suddenly very close to him, making him want to reach out and touch her. He had a foot on her at least, her head reaching just above his sternum he guessed. He could smell the faint scent of sickly sweet flowers coming off of her, and instantly thought he would never smell anything better ever again.

“Really? It’s very impressive, something I would wear in a heartbeat…” he admired, then a lightbulb went off in his head, “I’m actually interested in buying some new suits, would you be willing to do them for me?” He asked.

“Absolutely Nikita. What kind of look do you like?” She responded, immediately interested.

“the style you saw on me the first day mostly. I think I want some color or something to give it a bit extra though.” He pondered, Y/N immediately beginning to swirl with ideas.

“Tell you what, I’ll set up an appointment with you and we can discuss it.” She offered, and he turned to her with a smile, “we can look through some catalogs and pick out some cool options.”

“Hmm, I would gladly take an appointment, but I don’t want a catalogue suit, I want what you think looks best,” He said confidently, “if you are ok with it, I would like to give you my number so if you see a pattern or inspiration you can tell me.”

Y/N’s heart dropped into her stomach, never to come out again. It was very, very rare that someone wanted anything other than an average suit, especially someone that seemed to be built for a nice suit like he was. Her mind lit up with a constellation of ideas.

“I-I would be honored.” She said, a little too stunned to say much else.

He smiled, making his way back to the desk for a business card and a stray blue pen. He jotted down his information on the back, handing it to her. She pocketed it, shoving it deep so there was no chance it fell out. JT and Petey made their way up front, now holding their suits plus some papers and fabric squares.

“All set Z?” Petey asked, and he nodded to the two men.

“We hope to see you all soon! Enjoy those jackets!” Rob said, waving as they made their way out the door, the little bell sounding as they exited the store

~*~

Rob and Krista returned to work on Mrs. Fueller’s dress, talking amongst themselves about how ‘nice those young men had been’ and how ‘you don’t see down to earth athletes like that anymore’. Y/N sat down at the desk gathering all of her supplies back into the kits. She smiled to herself at the 100 dollar note Nikita had left for her, making a mental note to scold him when she saw him next time.

There was a next time.

She fished the business card out of her pocket turning it over to reveal his neat, square handwriting.

Y/N,

Don’t share this with anyone! Hope to hear from you soon.

-Nikita Zadorov

XXX-XXX-XXX

She quickly put the number in her phone and saved it under secret agent Nikita before sending him a text.

Hi Nikita, it’s Y/N. Let me look at my schedule and we can put something on the books. I already have some ideas!

Not even ten minutes went by before a text buzzed from him

Sounds great. We leave for a week and a half tomorrow, but I should be available once we get back to Vancouver. Thanks for all of your help!

She sent off a thumbs up and a thank you before cleaning up her space to finish the last details on Mrs. Fueller’s dress. She imagined beautiful rich fabric and how it could lay on Nikita’s build, where to accentuate and where to bring in. There were seemingly endless options.

She couldn’t wait

<><><><>

3 - the fitting

During the week and a half the Canucks were on the road, Nikita found himself a little absorbed in talking to Y/N. They scheduled for a few days after the Canucks returned to Vancouver, and he couldn’t stop the flutter of excitement he felt when he thought about seeing Y/N again.

She started to send him photos of chic magazines, ones that had borderline eccentric suits, which she promised she would dial back but she ‘saw lots of potential’ in them. She sent him pictures of bolts of fabric, which he eventually just FaceTimed her to see. She was in the middle of a massive fabric store, dressed in a hoodie from what he could tell, which for some reason was endearing to him.

Y/N was very surprised by the FaceTime, but picked up anyway after the second ring, as it would give her an opportunity to hear his honey laden accent. He looked to be in a hotel gym, lightly huffing and trying to dry his damp forehead off with a towel. His hair was undone and falling in his face, and he was close enough to the camera that she could see the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. A domestic thought of doing this all the time flashed through her mind before she stamped it out.

“What do you think of doing something in this?” She asked, flipping the camera to show off a beautiful deep green.

“I like that a lot, I have a couple of green suits so maybe red? Or purple?” He inquired.

“Now we’re talking. I’ll get back to you ok? I’ll find the best red and purple I can.” She promised, which made him smile.

“I’m holding you to it.” He said, then a faint ‘come on Z food’s here’ sounded of in the background, “I have to go, but we’ll talk soon!”

“Ok Z, have a good night! Good luck for the game!” She said

He sent a wink into the camera, “will do Y/N.” Then ended the call.

Y/N couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach as she played that wink over and over again. He was just so nice and confident (not to mention handsome), all while trusting her to deliver something great. She perused the bolts some more, finding a luxurious maroon and a dark purple that looked almost black. She bought them both and returned to the shop to place them in the pile that was forming for Nikita’s appointment.

They kept texting. Not even about suits or fabric or accessories, just casual conversation. He would text her before games, after games, late at night when he should have been sleeping. He imagined her cuddled up on the couch in a soft t-shirt with snacks and a movie on, or at the shop with her cute heels on and hair all styled, answering his texts with a smile and a giggle when he said something funny. They didn’t really talk about hockey either, outside of an occasional question about the rules or a funny story from Russia, which was refreshing for him.

Y/N had done her own digging (for research purposes of course) and fallen into a hole of stalking his socials. She had watched a heavy hit compilation of him on YouTube, and couldn’t believe that the one she met and the one knocking people into the next year were the same person. She watched one of his away games, against the Seattle Kraken, finding herself invested in the play going on and feeling that twinge of excitement when the camera found Nikita every once in a while.

It was days and days of sweet conversation and thinking about each other when they weren’t talking. Multiple teammates of Nikita’s were giving him shit for always being on the phone, but he felt like he couldn’t help it. It lit him up inside to see Y/N’s contact flash across the screen. She was so witty and kind, not to mention beautiful. She even began to cross his mind when he was alone in the hotel room.

The day finally came. His appointment was at noon, so he prepared a little early and stopped for coffee, also grabbing Y/N’s order as a little surprise. He felt like he needed to show his appreciation for the wonderful couple of weeks he had. The familiar bell chime went off as he opened the shop door, this time no bickering voices, just faint music coming from the back. Y/N walked up front to meet him, cracking the smile she had been waiting to crack since he asked her what her favorite color was over a week and a half ago. He handed her the coffee he was holding and offered a friendly side hug.

“Oh! You really didn’t have to, but thank you! Always full of surprises.” She remarked, setting down the coffee.

“Hey, what can I say. We’re gonna need all the caffeine we can get.” He said, then looked around to find no Rob or Krista, “where is everyone?”

“Rob and Krista decided to take a vacation in Italy, they’re gone for another week, so you’re stuck with me by myself I’m afraid.” She explained, grabbing a book from the corner to set out.

He perked up a little unintentionally at that news. The thought of the two of them together like this felt eerily similar to just, hanging out, and not an actual business deal being done by two professionals. He had been waiting for the appointment like it was a scheduled hang out for fucks sake.

“So first I’m thinking we get your measurements, then talk about what you want to see, and see where it takes us?” She offered, and he nodded, “great, if you don’t mind coming over here under the light so I can see you.”

He was dressed in a t shirt and shorts again, hopefully something that would make it easy for her to get good numbers. She had a little lawyer pad and a pencil, along with a tape measure ready to use in the other hand.

“Just stand normally and relax, I’m gonna work from the bottom up.” She noted and Nikita relaxed his stance.

She began, quickly pulling the tape measure around his ankles, jotting down numbers then moving up. She measured his calves, then knees, then thighs at their thickest, then the outside seam from hip to ankle. Nikita was trying to focus on anything but her touching him, literally anything but her skilled fingers pulling the tape measure taught around him. She finally measured his inseam, going from his groin to the inside of his ankle, then the other side, all before popping up and writing the last numbers down.

He was so, so still. He felt like if he moved he would shatter like glass under her touch. He was barely breathing. She moved to his hips, then waist, then from his armpit to hip. She wrapped the tape measure around his chest, the metal tag hitting him dead center, and she took the number. He wondered if she could feel his heart rattling his rib cage under her hand.

She pulled a block out from the corner to stand on, giving Nikita a moment to breathe and relax. She started on his arms, taking his wrists, biceps, and shoulder width, then from shoulder to wrist. Finally, she wrapped the tape measure around his neck. His pulse quickened at her closeness, and all he could think about was her breath fanning over his collarbone while she leaned in to read the number.

“Ok… that’s the last number…” she murmured, letting the tape measure fall loose around his neck, “wanna sit down to talk about what you’re thinking design wise?”

“Y-yeah, let’s do that.” He said, letting out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

She directed him to the seat around the front of the desk. She grabbed her pre-cut fabric squares in maroon, dark purple, and a sage green with silver detailing woven in. She grabbed her organizer of buttons and other accessories, and the magazines she had compiled since they began texting. She had tabs sticking out of each one, the magazines resembling annotated homework more than catalogs. She stuck them all on the desk, then sat.

He leaned back to accommodate his size in the seemingly too small chair, his knees bent up at a slight angle and his arms resting beside him. To a passerby it might look like an interrogation if they didn’t know any better. It was like he took up as much space physically as he did mentally for her.

“So, I showed you the fabrics I liked best over our call, but I wanted you to feel them and decide for yourself if you like them.” She started, handing him the fabric squares that he pinched between his fingers, one by one.

“The purple and the maroon are great, and I like that you went for a lighter green. I think three suits is a good amount for now, so let’s stick with these.” He explained.

“I thought the same, so we’ll go with those.” She set aside three piles, with one fabric square per pile, “I love to see double breasted suits, and they look great on you, so I was thinking about making the purple fabric double breasted with these buttons.” She pulled out gold buttons that were adorned with little flowers, very much like an old wax seal, “they’re vintage, and I think they fit the style nicely.”

He nodded, and let her take them back to set in their own pile with the purple fabric square.

“I think since the maroon is a little more adventurous we could try a strap closure in the front, it’s one of the more chic styles coming out of fashion recently.” She explained further, flipping to a saved page in one of the magazines where the model had a suit that was closed with a slim gold buckle and a strap across the waist. He had never considered something like that before, but he could see Y/N’s vision coming to life, so he agreed.

“And for the green I think a couple of buttons and a nice fit will do the fabric plenty of justice.” She said, holding up the green fabric square.

“This is all perfect Y/N.” He said, looking over the three piles in front of them, “what can I expect in terms of time?”

“I have one quick project before you, but I would say around a month for everything? Rob and Krista gave me permission to take on just your project after my other project is done.” She said, taking a glance at the calendar on her desk.

“That’s perfect for me, don’t rush on my account, I’m a very patient man.” He said with a sly smile, and she just laughed, the clearest most lovely laugh he could have imagined.

“We’ll plan on it then.” She whispered, seconds going by before she looked away from his eyes.

They both stood, Nikita reaching out to shake her hand once she came around the desk within arms reach of him. He pulled her in for a brief hug, as if to say ‘we’re past all the pleasantries’. Something was shifting in the air, between them.

“Um, I really wanted to thank you, for the trust. This project is a big deal for me.” She murmured.

“It’s an honor for me to own such a brilliant collection.” He assured, letting her go after one final pat on the shoulder, “I can’t wait for a month from now.”

“I can’t either.”

<><><><>

+1 - the gifting

Right on schedule, Y/N had all three pieces done in a month. She stayed up late and got up early quite a few times simply because she was inspired to finish. Everything, down to the very last stitch, was perfect. She thought of making replicas to save for a future fashion magazine.

Nikita and Y/N continued to talk, a lot. He found himself texting her anytime he thought something was funny, or interesting, or really any sort of thing that he thought she would like. When he was home, he would drop coffee off to her, and she would try to hide his suits from his curious eye. Each time he did, it would end with a hug and a promise to talk soon.

She ended up calling him one afternoon extremely frustrated. Her dishwasher started to make a funny noise and her landlord wouldn’t pick up, and he happily came over to help her, fixing it in a mere hour. They spent the whole evening tucked in a private corner of her favorite restaurant, her treat, as a thank you.

One night, on a rare off day on the road, she picked up another FaceTime call from him, and they talked into the early hours. He wanted to hear her voice all he could, and play her pretty laugh on repeat. They waded a little deeper beyond light banter, and they both shared personal things, and tried to be encouraging. Nikita admitted that NHL life could be lonely without anyone to share it with, especially since his ex moved on, but he was trying his best to enjoy every minute with his teammates. Y/N hoped she could give him a little peace in that way; be an avenue for him to take when the nights got a little too lonely. When they signed off, Nikita found himself biting back an ‘I miss you’.

He was on a road trip for a couple of days after his suits being finished, so they planned on meeting up at the shop on his next off day, which happened to be the day after the Canucks returned from a very successful 3-0 road trip.

Y/N had secretly been watching his games from the privacy of her apartment, cheering on the Canucks of course, but especially Nikita. She watched all of his media availability, and laughed at all of his witty replies. He was witty with her too, but from a different place. She knew he wasn’t trying to be smart with her, he just wanted her to laugh.

She had been waiting so long to see him, and today was finally the day.

She got up late morning, the sun already decently high. She decided this day was a hair down kind of day, so she brushed and lightly curled the ends. She threw on her favorite green dress with built in cups, and a black cardigan over the top, pairing everything with black heels. She threw on a light dusting of makeup and some perfume to finish everything off.

She made her way into the shop, not noticing the dark clouds rolling in behind her as she pulled each suit off the rack and placed them in very nice suit bags. The plan was to meet Nikita at 4pm, then get dinner after. When she turned back towards the front of the store, the sky was much darker and big raindrops were gliding down the windows. The storm got heavy very quickly, the wind whipping sheets of rain into the side of the building. Normally Y/N would find this kind of weather relaxing, something that would warrant comfy clothes and a cup of tea, but she had Nikita to wait for, and the more it rained the more she got worried about her plans for the day.

She was suddenly bathed in darkness as the power flickered and shut off completely. The light coming from outside was dim at best, and the rain only seemed to pelt the glass harder. She felt her heart sink. There was no way she could work on anything, let alone meet Nikita and give him his suits.

Right on cue, special agent Nikita flashed across her phone. She picked it up and tried to smooth over her frustrated tone. Despite being frustrated, she was tremendously relieved.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Nikita asked, hearing the rain in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’ll be ok, I just have to be careful getting home and we can reschedule, ok?” She asked, the defeat weighing down her last few words. She thought of her shit box sedan, probably floating down the flooded street by now.

“What’s happening over there?” He inquired, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Uh, the power’s out and the street is flooded out front, I’m not going to make you come over here Nikita.” She argued, “the roads are dangerous as it is.”

“Im coming to get you, just relax and I’ll be there soon.” He said, the determination in his voice rocking her a little bit.

“It’s really not safe right now! Don’t worry about me I’ll just wait it out.” She tried to reason, but she was cut off with a ‘no, no, no, stop.”.

“I’m not letting you sit there in the dark Y/N, I have an SUV I’ll be fine. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon.” He pushed, and quickly hung up so she couldn’t try to deter him any more.

Not even fifteen minutes later, a black SUV swung up into the spot right in front of the door, Nikita running to the door with his arm up over his eyes. He threw the door open and pulled it closed, water gathering on the floor in front of him.

“You ok?” He asked.

“Yeah I’m good, it’s just dark.” She laughed, gesturing to the flashlight on her phone illuminating them.

“Good, let’s get the suits and get out of here.” He said, stepping back to the door to wait for her.

She first slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her keys from the desk. Then she grabbed all three garment bags, tucking them into her cardigan before folding it over her body like a disgruntled teacher. He pushed the door open as soon as she was by his side, fighting the wind and big drops. He stuck his arm out, using his big body to try and shield her as much as he could. He hit the hatch button on his key fob and she ran as quickly as her heels would allow on the flooded sidewalk, laying the bags down flat in his trunk before hitting the button to close them in safely. She made the quick shuffle to the passenger seat, shutting the door with an aggressive thud.

Nikita and Y/N both let out a breath. She hoped they would both make it out without getting too wet, but it was no use. She was soaked, her nicely curled hair now a damp mess, her cardigan and dress soaked on top. Nikita’s sweatshirt and hair were also soaked, him taking the hem of his sweatshirt to wipe his dripping forehead.

“So I was thinking we could go to my place, but if not I’ll take you home..?” He suggested, and she nodded after a beat.

“We can go to yours, I want to show you the suits.” She said, and he pulled out of the parking spot with a nod.

The road was absolutely drenched, so the drive home was slower, but nothing his SUV couldn’t handle. Nikita wordlessly turned on her heated seat, hoping to combat the shivers she developed as the minutes ticked on. He felt really bad about her getting rained on, but he couldn’t in good conscience leave her to drive home that shit box sedan or sit in the dark studio all day till the rain stopped. He was so relieved when the entrance to his building’s parking garage came into view. He parked in his spot, getting out first and grabbing the garment bags out of the back. Y/N brushed her wet hair out of her face in the mirror before opening her door and hopping out.

They made their way inside the elevator, side by side, until it arrived at his floor. He opened the door and let her in first, extending his hand in a come in motion. His apartment was nothing short of amazing. The space was large and open with a beautiful kitchen, plus large windows that overlooked Vancouver. The room was decorated exactly how she pictured, lots of sleek neutrals and modern details. He had a massive sectional sofa, with a huge tv and an electronic fireplace right underneath. He had a sliding glass door that lead out to a lovely balcony that housed a couple of plants and Adirondack chairs.

They could see the rain still coming down hard against the glass, with no signs of stopping any time soon. Across from the open living space was a large hallway that she assumed led to his bedrooms and bathrooms and any other extra space he had.

Y/N bent and grabbed a hold of one heel, sliding it off, then the other, then tucked them into the mat where a lot of his shoes sat near the door. Her heels were covered in water stains and grime from the dirty sidewalk, so she figured it would be better to leave them there for now. Nikita set the garment bags over the arm of his massive cushy sofa sectional before he meandered into the kitchen, pulling out two mugs and setting some water to boil. Without heels on, she fell right below his sternum, and it was now even more glaringly obvious how wide their size difference was.

“What kind of tea do you like Y/N? I have mint, camomile, and some sort of spicy-orangey one.” He asked from around the corner.

“Spicy orangey sounds good.” She joked, finally walking into the kitchen where he was pulling a little box out of one of the higher cabinets, “I never took you as a hot tea kind of guy.”

“I like it sometimes. Nathan MacKinnon said I should try it when I can’t sleep before taking melatonin, and he was kind of right.” He laughed at the memory, “the Dogg is always right when it comes to what you eat and drink.”

“Hey, if it works it works.” She remarked as he handed her a perfectly warm mug of tea.

They sat quietly for a minute, letting the warm liquid warm them up a little further. The sound of the rain outside was much more soothing in the comfort of his apartment. Y/N hadn’t realized how deep the chill had gotten from her still too wet cardigan and hair. He looked at her for a moment, realizing she was still shivering a little and damp. Once both of their teas were done, he grabbed the mugs and turned them in the sink.

“You should take that cardigan off, you’re going to catch a cold,” he said matter of factly, “I’m sure I have something you can wear if you want.”

She shrugged it off, and Nikita took a hold of it and turned on the electronic fireplace, putting it next to the slowly building warmth. He turned to the garment bags, and picked them up carefully, nodding his head towards the hallway.

“My closet’s down here, I want to see in the mirror.” He said.

At the end of the hallway was his room, decorated similarly to the rest of his living space. The bed was underneath the window on the opposite side of the door, a nice long ottoman chest sitting at the foot of his bed, the kind that had a cushioned top to sit on like a bench. Across from the bed was an absolutely massive ceiling to floor mirror that was backlit with soft white light, making it easy to see. There was a connecting door to the bathroom, and another door that seemed to be a walk in closet, absolutely filled to the brim with suits. Her jaw fell to the floor at the sight of all of this tailoring genius in front of her, and they were about to add three more to his amazing collection. She continued to look around while he slipped into the closet.

“What do you want to see first Y/N?” He asked, separating out the bags and hanging them on the closet door. He had thrown on a nice white button down and a black tie on, just to make sure he was doing the suits true justice. He kept his shorts on, creating a very interesting sight

“Hmm, the green one?” She asked, and he nodded, turning on his heel to take the green suit into the bathroom.

She took a seat on the ottoman chest, waiting patiently for him. He returned, pulling on the sleeves and adjusting the jacket on his frame. The green complimented him so well, and the cut hit him in the perfect spot on his hips to make him look muscular and fitted. The pants perfectly accentuated his thick thighs. He turned to the massive mirror, taking a quick once over before turning back to Y/N, who’s jaw was on the floor again.

“I don’t think that could fit you any better.” She said, and he laughed.

“Well, you took the measurements, I knew it was going to be perfect.” He responded, “ok, what next?”

“Do the purple one, the last one is going to surprise you.” She said, and he obliged, of course.

After another few minutes in the bathroom, he re-emerged, the velvety purple showing up almost black with the gorgeous vintage gold buttons holding it all together. The suit, again, was cut perfectly, showing off his physique. He turned, looking at the fit and the buttons, all before turning to Y/N once again.

“I think you were made for the double breasted suit.” She admitted, and he gave her a wide smile and a dorky little spin.

“I love the color, it’s so deep.” He said, again turning to go back to the bathroom with the maroon suit in hand.

Now this one, she wasn’t entirely sure about how he was going to feel. The buckled closure was new for his wardrobe, but she had faith that he would embrace it. While he was in the bathroom, she stood from her spot and looked inside his closet, wanting to grasp the full picture of his collection. His closet felt like it continued on for miles. She heard the door open, and turned to see Nikita messing with the closure.

“Can you help me close it?” He asked, and she took a moment to look at him.

The maroon of the suit was perfect for his skin tone, and the fit, again, looked perfect. the clasp that closed the jacket was a delicate gold, something that would fit with his usual accessories. The fabric tie that he would attach to the buckle seemed to be jammed a little, very easy to fix. She grabbed the tie, pulling it gently so it would slide out again, and grabbed the buckle with her other hand, slowly snaking the piece in and looping the pieces together.

Nikita’s brain shut off. She was so close to him, smelling like rain and sickly sweet flowers, with her hair now falling in messy locks from being wet. Flashes of every moment they spent together, through the phone or not, spun through his mind. He thought about the dinner they had, and how pretty she looked, and how hard they laughed. In this moment she looked beyond beautiful in her dress, the freckles on her shoulders standing out. His arms were at his side but he so desperately wanted to reach up and touch her.

So he did.

He ghosted his hands over her bare arms, up her shoulders, and placed them on the sides of her neck. She looked up at him, her gaze finding his. She didn’t look apprehensive at all, in fact there was a glimmer in her eye that he had never seen before.

“What?” She murmured, keeping their eyes locked.

His thumb grazed her jaw, keeping a slow, feathery pace, “nothing, I just wish this would happen every day.”

“Trying on new suits?” She wondered, even though she knew that wasn’t it.

He leaned down, almost to her lips, “No, having you here to help me.” He murmured, “I want you here all the time. I’ve dreamed of having you here with me.”

That was all she needed. She met him the rest of the way, standing on her tiptoes to reach his lips. Their kiss was all consuming, encapsulating every feeling they both felt over the last few months, but were never able to say. He felt so soft against her, his hands remaining on her neck while hers slid around his waist. She pulled back, Nikita chasing her lips as she broke away. She looked at him for a minute with a soft, twinkling look on her face, Nikita deciding he never wanted to see her look any other way.

“C’mere.” He said, pulling her back in.

He kissed her deeper, his tongue dancing over her bottom lip so she would open up. She did, willingly, the both of them melting into each other’s embrace. One hand snaked back into her hair, the other sliding down and across her back. Her hands crawled up his arms, holding onto the soft fabric of his suit jacket.

He tightened his hold on her hair, kissing across her cheek and down her pretty neck. She let out a soft moan, her lips sitting on the shell of his ear. He wanted to bottle up that sound and keep it forever.

As he mouthed at her collarbone, he took a step, then another, till they were standing in front of his ottoman chest, the mirror right across from them. He sat down, finding her lips again. He reached up and pulled on the knot in his tie just a little loose, giving him more room to move. Their kiss was growing hungrier, his need to feel her growing stronger with every move. Her hands found his hair, fingers carding through his soft locks.

He grabbed at her waist, pulling her flush with him between his thick thighs. She began trailing kisses down his neck, or what she could reach with his stiff collar in the way. He opened his eyes, just for a moment, and watched her squirm under his touch in the mirror. He could see his own pupils darken at the thought of watching her.

“Nikita..” she groaned, “please.”

“What is it baby?” He asked, letting his hands wander to the sides of her breasts.

“I, I just want you.” She said, placing a desperate kiss on the corner of his mouth, “can we go to bed?” Grabbing his hands to pull him up.

“No, wait,” he said, using the hand that she was holding to turn her around, “right here.”

Y/N and Nikita looked like a work of art together in that mirror. Her hair was tousled and messy, falling down to one side while he kissed and sucked at her shoulder, moving the thin strap of her dress down her arm with one hand and caressing her head with the other. The maroon of his suit and her green dress accented the other perfectly. She could see her nipples beginning to pebble under the built in cups of her dress, making her look beyond sultry in his arms. The most striking piece was how much bigger he was than her.

He moved his hands again, bringing them to her waist, then the sides of her breasts, then over them on top of the dress. He gave them a gentle squeeze, working a moan out of her throat. He kneaded her softly, then reached into the soft fabric, pulling her tits out over the top of the dress. He rolled her nipples in his fingers, making her shudder and arch in his grip.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he murmured in her ear, watching her eyelids squeeze shut at all of the sensations, “I thought about you like this, all sweet and pliant under my touch.”

“Shit, N-Nikita.” She panted, coming down to fully sit in his lap and grasp at his arms. She could feel his bulge growing in his nice new suit pants, and whimpered at the feeling.

“Do you like that? When I touch you like that?” He egged on, wanting to hear her say it.

“Ah.. yes, yes I love it.” She sighed out.

He shifted one arm over to play with her nipples and hold her up while his other hand reached for the hem of her dress, slowly pulling it up till he could see her panties. He almost died at the sight. He could see how spun up she had gotten just from kissing and touching her.

“Shit, look at you.” He said, cupping her pussy with his massive hand, “all wet from a few touches.”

“Only for you.” she admitted, letting him take control of the whole situation. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder and gazed at the ceiling.

He reached into her panties, letting his fingers graze over her wet lips, before slowly pulling her panties down and off. He grabbed her by the waist and shifted her back so she was fully seated, throwing her legs over the outsides of his. She was fully exposed to the mirror, and all of his ministrations were on display. He ran two fingers through her wetness before sinking them into her pussy, agonizingly slow. He began to make a come here motion, letting his thumb circle her clit. The sound of her arousal filled the room, and she couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of her mouth as Nikita dragged his fingers over her sensitive walls.

She worked her hand into his hair behind her, the other coming to cover his as he worked on her. He placed kisses on her temple and neck as he slowly worked more sounds out of her, her movement working him up underneath his suit pants. Every sigh and gasp in his ear, every time her grip tightened on his hair, every grind of her hips against him, was heaven. Every inch of her was perfect for him, and he got to watch it all unravel right in front of him.

“God I’m s-so close, please!” She gasped, her pussy tightening around him.

“Go ahead baby, take what you need.” He encouraged, “cum all over my fingers.”

His words were like magic. She came all around him, her legs clamping down around his and her fingers tightening in his hair. He kept gently moving his fingers inside her, the waves of delicious pleasure washing over her. His eyes never dropped from the mirror.

Once her orgasm ebbed, she grabbed his wrist and moved his hand away from her oversensitive bundle. He brought his soaking fingers to his mouth, sucking her juices off of his fingers with an ‘mmm’. She grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, letting herself catch her breath while she tasted her essence on him.

She was very, very aware of his hard dick pressing against her; with every shift he would groan. His hands found her waist again, gently lifting her out of her seat so there was enough room for him to unzip his pants and bring them down just enough for his cock to spring free. She started to turn and sink down on her knees but he stopped her, pulling her back up.

“Maybe later, I wanna be inside you.” He stated bluntly.

“What about your suit?” She asked, running her hands along the fabric, “you haven’t even worn it out yet.”

“I’ll take it to the dry cleaners if we make that much of a mess. All I’m worried about is you.” He said giving her hand a kiss. “Where do you want to be baby?”

“Right here, I liked how we were.” She admitted, climbing back onto his lap with her legs bent on either side of him, facing the mirror.

She was spread open and on display for them again, this time his cock was painfully hard resting against her back. He took her hips in his hand, pulling her up while she grabbed a hold of him, giving him a couple of pumps before lining him up with her. She took it slow, settling down inch by inch. She sank down till she was fully seated in his lap, being practically split open. She moaned out a breath, giving them both a moment to adjust to the feeling.

For Nikita, it felt like coming home. She was so tight and warm and all enveloping. He wanted to stay that way forever, close to her with the perfect view. He let a hand ghost over her stomach, a touch that ended up feeling comforting to her.

“You ok?” He asked in her ear, laying a kiss on it.

“Y-yeah, you’re just really big.” She admitted, making him chuckle. “Feels so good..”

“Good, baby.” He reassured.

After another moment, she pulled up, then sat back down, starting a deep slow pace. She put her head back on his shoulder, letting pretty moans tumble out just like before. Nikita’s hands were everywhere, her stomach, thighs, tits, waist, all of her. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He looked at the scene before him in the mirror, watching himself disappear into her tight heat. He had never seen something so hot, it was a miracle he was even able to utter a word in English.

“Fuck, baby, look how pretty you are.” He whispered, bringing his hand into her hair again, “watch with me.”

She looked up, as mesmerized by the two of them as he was, “s-shit, you’re taking me so well, baby. Keep fucking me like that.” He mumbled, watching her bite down on her lip.

She watched him slide into her, feeling him deep inside while she took him at her own pace. She watched her tits bounce as his hands came up to meet them, rubbing her nipples to add some more sensation. Her thighs began to burn and her legs were shaking, both from the stimulation and the effort. She was trying her best to keep pace, but she was losing rhythm.

“Nikita.. please.” She asked, grabbing his hands and sliding them down to her hips, where he squeezed.

“Oh, do you want some help baby?” He whispered, earning a nod from her, “that’s ok baby, relax and I’ll help.”

He began lifting her and setting her back down, keeping his hands firmly planted on her hips as he guided her body. He set a slightly faster pace, one that would keep winding them up without hurting her. Their moans were getting louder and higher, and he could feel her pussy squeezing around him.

“Oh fuck Nikita I’m so close! Keep going!” She moaned out, one hand coming to play with her puffy clit.

“That’s it baby, feel good for me, cum all over me”. He rambled, his breath growing ragged as he felt his orgasm approaching, “I wanna see you come all over my cock, make a mess.”

The last few strokes with her pussy basically holding him in a vice pushed him over the edge; he came deep inside her with a loud moan. the feeling of him unraveling sent her into her very own. Her orgasm practically ignited her whole body, her vision exploding with stars. He kept the pace up, even if she wasn’t using any strength anymore. The waves kept crashing over her, high pitched whimpers escaping her. She kept rubbing her clit, teetering on the edge of overstimulated until Nikita set her down on his cock, letting her hips go. He ghosted his hand over her waist again, laying little comforting kisses on all of the skin he could reach. The comedown was slow, like floating feathers in the air. The only sounds left were their breathing and the gentle pattering of the rain outside. The sun had set not too long ago, so the room was dark except for the halo lights around his mirror.

“Fuck baby, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen.” He painted, “…you ok?”

“..yeah, t-that was amazing.” She said, turning her head to capture his lips in a soft, tired kiss.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” He asked, and she shook her head no, but not before nikita’s eyebrows rose in realization, “shit, we didn’t use protection-“

“It’s ok Nikita, I’m on birth control and I’m clean, I trust you…” she said, and a small shift in their position made her wince. Her hips and thighs were beginning to ache with soreness from the open position, “as much as I like feeling full, I really need to move.”

“Of course, let me help.” He obliged, grabbing her hips one more time, sliding her off his cock so she was able to close her legs in front of him, “what would you say to a quick shower, then relaxing in bed?”

“Mm, I could be persuaded.” She giggled, letting him finally stand up.

His lap was a wet, creamy mess of both of them, but it wasn’t so bad that he would be shunned from every dry cleaner in Vancouver. He would just wash off the incriminating stuff and wet his new suit pants a little and say he accidentally dropped them during the rain storm. They both made their way to the massive bathroom, pulling off their clothes. The shower they took was strangely the most wholesome part of the night, both of them taking turns washing each other while they had soft conversation. They gave each other sweet kisses, and laughed at the couple of hickeys that adorned the both of them.

Nikita shut off the water and reached for his fluffiest towel, wrapping it around her with a kiss on her nose. They dried off, him finding a stretched out old shirt for her to wear for the rest of the evening, while he picked new boxers and an old tee as well. He picked up her panties and handed them to her, then leaned up over the bed to crack the window, the soft sound of rain and the cool breeze wafting through. He reached down bringing his comforter and sheets down the bed and sprawled out on top. She joined him on the other side. She snuggled up to his chest and he began tracing soft patterns on her back, his other hand falling to the ditch of her knee as she crossed her leg over his lap. A loud growl erupted from his stomach, and they both laughed. They accidentally skipped dinner all together.

“You wore me out, you minx.” He joked, earning a slap to the chest, “want to order in?”

“Sounds delicious!” She exclaimed, Nikita fishing for his phone on the table beside him, “hey, Nikita?”

“Yes baby?” He responded, looking away from the online menu to her.

“Thank you, for being so amazing,” she muttered, “for being there for me and taking care of me, I guess.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, leaning down for a chaste kiss, “you’re the amazing one, I’ve been dying to ask you out since you fixed the seam on my jacket,”

“Really? That long huh?” She teased, and he laughed along with her.

“As long as it took to make you mine.” He admitted, her heart fluttering at his words.

“Does that mean you’re officially asking me out Mr. Zadorov?” She giggled, making his cheeks turn red with blush.

“And if I was, would you say yes?” He whispered.

“One hundred times over.”

<><><><>

[gaiaseyes451]

Excited to share my first @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt!

Slow Waltz

The antique record player turns only slightly newer vinyl around in a slow circle, the needle gliding unhurriedly along its well known path. The genius of men long dead, composed even longer ago dances with the dust motes and lamplight of the bookshop. It’s a waltz, Crowley pictures the dance steps as the first spirited notes pluck at his fingers, tapping in time. Shostakovich, if he’s not mistaken, and he knows he is correct. The tender, legato melody begins and Aziraphale’s eyes flutter shut, his hands conducting as they hover over his lap, a smile lifting his cheeks.

He remembers the salons in Paris, the halls in Moscow, the chambers in Vienna. They would sit—or stand—hands moving in time together yet never touching. Crowley knew better than to ask the angel to dance.

Perhaps eventually, maybe one more song.

***

Midnight is heralded by the rich toll of the grandfather clock’s chimes reverberating through the calm air. Aziraphale startles at the sound. As he’d watched Crowley melt deeper into his chair and his cups, Aziraphale’s thoughts had wandered to centuries long past. The people and customs and drink had changed and yet these nights—passed alone but together—were constant. The easy banter and exasperating contrariness yielding to a devastating fondness as the alcohol loosened their lips and cleared their vision.

”’S late,” the demon says, schooling his limbs into a semblance of a sitting position. “Should be going.”

”So soon?” Aziraphale asks, almost lighthearted if not for the tightness around the words. “It’s just now midnight and you seemed rather comfortable and it’s not as if I would sleep,” he rambles before stopping and taking a breath.

Crowley is watching him, one eyebrow quirked, more curious than wary.

“We haven’t even finished the bottle,” Aziraphale waves at the table strewn with wine bottles and if there’s a faint tinkling of miraculous bells neither seems to hear it.

There’s a smirk playing at Crowley’s lips. Aziraphale relaxes a little, settling back in his chair, pleased with himself at a successful temptation.

“Well,” Crowley drawls, sliding back into his chair. “Maybe one more drink.”

***

Motionless is an usual state for Crowley. His entire existence, he feels, has been a string of perpetual motion. Buzzing with anxiety, humming with affection, shimmering with hope. This moment—standing still while the world moves around him—is a harsher collision than he’s experienced in all his millenia. He regrets supporting the concept of inertia.

First, his breathing had stopped when Aziraphale said he was returning to Heaven. Then, Crowley’s heart when he’d asked Crowley to go with him. Now, no part of Crowley moves as he stands, motionless and resolute, braced against the Bentley. Only his eyes follow Aziraphale out of the bookshop, across the street, into the lift that will take him away for Satan-knows-how-long.

Crowley wills Aziraphale to turn, to look at him. To see him standing there. He did not leave; Crowley will never leave. Not without Aziraphale.

Maybe one more look, one more glance over his shoulder and the angel will see it, too.

The look never comes.

***

Crisp white suit, cold white tiles, vapid austere company, Aziraphale walks through the corridors of Heaven. At the model of Earth, he pauses and the angels walking with him stop, too. It is a well worn routine by now and the other angels disperse into idle chatter or feigned tasks as he rotates the globe in search of one being.

He always searches for the same person. He always finds him, no matter how well Crowley hides.

This time, he’s making no attempt to be covert. Quite the opposite, really. On the globe Italy—Venice in particular—smolders with temptations of lust and gluttony and an abundance of venial sins. Carnival.

Aziraphale turns his head into his shoulder to hide his smile. He remembers all the times he and Crowley met at this celebration, choosing to enjoy the revelry themselves rather than wasting the energy to negate the other’s influence.

He spares a small miracle, changing the crimson lining of Crowley’s mask to marigold. He hopes the demon will know what it means, when he sees it.

Aziraphale believes they will meet again, in Venice or Moscow or Paris or Vienna. Or London. In a bookshop, with a bottle of wine and Schostacovich’s waltz. And they’ll finally, finally dance.

Maybe one more year and it will be safe.

[scotianostra]

Scottish novelist and poet Naomi Mitchison was born in Edinburgh on November 1st in 1897.

Best known as a novelist and social commentator, but Naomi Mitchison also wrote and published poetry, much of which is rooted in her Scottish background.

Born to Louisa Kathleen Trotter and John Scott Haldane, a distinguished scientist based in Oxford, where Naomi Haldane grew up. The Scottish connection remained important throughout her childhood, and she spent many summers at Cloan in Perthshire, the Haldanes’ family home. Although her formal education was limited, she was steeped in an environment of scientific and creative enquiry which influenced her entire life.

Naomi married Dick Mitchison while he was on a short break from the Battlefields of Flanders in 1916, he was later injured in the war and it had a profound effect on the rest of his life and hers.

Both of them passionately wanted the post-war world to be a different and better place and were determined to do something about it, with explosive energy, Mitchison managed to write prolifically and variously; to work in the pioneer days at the North Kensington family planning clinic and for many other good causes. Her husband went into politics and she supported him and his socialist values wholeheartedly. He eventually went to the Lords and Naomi hated being called Lady Mitchison. The Mitchison house at Hammersmith was famous for its parties in happy or anxious times. The guest lists covered a wide spectrum from all walks of life, politicians, writers, lords, unknown proteges, refugees and strange lost foreigners from all over the world.

This generous style of hospitality continued at their Scottish home at Carradale in Argyll. The large house gathered in all kinds of waifs and strays among the famous and unreproached scroungers; and then the Mitchison grandchildren and great-grandchildren joined the mix. Naomi's wartime diary, Among You Taking Notes... , is a vivid description of that period, and of her own pivotal role in it.

She would go on to become a local councillor and member of the Highland Panel, which began the process of Highland regeneration, but in both roles she was frustrated by bureaucracy and apathy, you can imagine The Highlands in the 60's!

Mitchison was able to write anywhere, which helped because - as a compulsive traveller - she could get on with her writing on planes or in trains. She went to the US in the 1930s, because she was worried about tenant farmers rights; to Vienna in 1934 when the Nazi-era storm clouds gathered, and she smuggled letters from endangered people to Switzerland in her knickers. In 1952, she went to Moscow as a member of the Authors' World Peace Appeal. She went regularly to Africa, especially to Botswana, where she was made a sort of tribal mother to the Bakgatla people and helped them practically. Wherever she was in the world, she seemed to have an instinctive understanding of the country and people around her, a remarkable woman.

In later years, she was sometimes anxious and depressed - not for herself, but for the future. She often said that two wars in a lifetime were too many. She was totally opposed to nuclear weaponry and was fearful that science would destroy, rather than enrich, mankind.

In old age, she watched many of her generation die: but with great generosity of spirit she visited and comforted many of them to the end.

Naomi Mitchison spent the last years of her life at Carradale, where she died in January 1999 aged 101.

Kintyre

I wake when the wind changes. Beyond the dark Firth far, Where the waves clap and the tides rustle and the herring are, At the far side of the great Clyde the wind ranges. I wake as it changes.

If snow flew or mist blew East on the hills of Renfrew, Here, Arran sheltered, we might never know, Get no breath of sleet or hard snow, Until across the mountain ranges The wind backs and changes.

Clear starlight as sleep takes me, But a cloud creeps from the side. My dream no more ranges Through a universe at rest, But quick through the window wide, From Atlantic on the west Or from east beyond Clyde, Leaps anxious into my breast. I wake when the wind changes.

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Can You Hear My Heartbeat Chapter 38

Please enjoy the next chapter of my Yuri!!! On Ice novelisation with furious figure skating and the return of kinky Eros!Yuuri 💙💜

Summary:

He was a weapon of mass sex appeal. He would make the audience lose their collective mind. And by doing so, he would make Viktor lose his mind, too. At the Rostelecom Cup, Viktor is determined to draw everyone's attention to Yuuri, while Yuuri is on a mission to show everyone that Viktor is his because competing in enemy territory brings out a deliciously dark side of Eros!Yuuri.

Excerpt below the cover image

“Viktor Nikiforov, how do you feel about returning to Russia? “Will you return to skating?” Please, Yuuri thought as he watched the digits above the lift count down. Please get here already. When he and Viktor had returned a short walk after dinner to inhale the snowy Moscow atmosphere, the press had waylaid them in the hotel lobby. Knowing that he was unwelcome in this country because he had claimed its hero for himself, Yuuri had used the opportunity to slip away. “Until the Grand Prix Series is over, I won’t comment on any future plans,” Viktor’s voice chimed across the lobby. “Right now, I see a lot of potential in Katsuki Yuuri’s skating. I’d like you all to focus on him at the Rostelecom Cup.” What was that supposed to mean? What had happened to the Viktor who had told Yuuri that he could not wait to see how his skating would evolve over the season? Because of those words, Yuuri had assumed that Viktor wanted to continue coaching him until Worlds. But apparently, his intuition had been right all the time. Their deal only extended until the Grand Prix Final. “If that skater Yuuri is so magnetic, don’t you want to face him as a fellow competitor yourself?” a female reporter asked. There are two lifts. Can’t one just arrive, please?

If you love canon stories, I'd be so so happy if you checked this one out. In addition to the events in the anime, Can You Hear My Heartbeat has dozens of in-between scenes and chapters that a YOI fan (read: me) could possibly wish for, including a loong and tender summer of mutual pining, flirty coaches, drunken shenanigans featuring a karaoke night and an unhinged game of truth or dare, tasty katsudon (not the dish, but also the dish), dating romantic hanging out, rythmic non-sexual touching dancing lessons, actual dating, the making of the Stammi Vicino duet, Japanese culture, a very deep exploration of Yuuri and Viktor as individuals and of their relationship, and answers to questions like "how many rings did Yuuri buy?", "did Yuuri tried to break up with Viktor at the GPF?", or "what were Viktor's true motives to become Yuuri's coach?". I did my best to keep the light-hearted and sometimes juicy tone of the anime with a fair dash of angst.

[umber-cinders]

Title: 𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚜 - [Secret Invasion]

Pairing: Gravik x Reader

Summary: You didn't plan to be in Moscow. Once your little business trip is over, you fully intend to go back home to the States. But when the Unity Day bombings happen, you're trapped in Russia without a plan to get out. You have no one to turn to until someone familiar appears to help you out.

♡ Fic Index ♡

Warnings: 🔞Mature Content ‼🚨READ THESE TAGS🚨‼ Filthy Explicit Sexual Content, I like aliens and monsters so there be Skrull anatomy, Mentions of War and Violence. Gravik is a villain and he is unhinged. He leaves morality at the door when it comes to humans. But you're his favorite human ;) Writing this gave me so many ideas of what it could turn into as a mini series 😭

Moscow is a beautiful city in an even more beautiful country. Or at least it was during the summer. It wasn’t as if beauty left the land during the winter, it was just that the cold bit through your skin and into your bones like the teeth of a starving wolf. You really shouldn't be here. You were convinced it was a mishap on behalf of management that you were delegated as a candidate for the task.

You never felt comfortable doing international work; it always made you feel out of place—like you didn’t belong.

Even now, people were suspicious of you. You look like the foreigner that you are; dark skin, with even darker hair and eyes—obviously textured hair. They were all features that made you stand out in a country this far north. You’d been here for three weeks, attending multiple back-and-forth meetings, trying to help as much as possible. Even pharmaceutical companies as small as the one you worked for weren't always known for being scrupulous, so whatever went on in them was beyond you. Your job was to search up and provide information as needed for the active liaison between your company and the Russians.

If it wasn’t for Anna, the woman who acted as the go-between for the other side, you’d be completely at a loss of what to do. She’d been helpful and friendly from the start, and you’d become accustomed to the sight of her smiling grey eyes and the eye-catching gleam of her sandy hair as she walked you to and from places in the building. With her help, you’d assimilated smoothly.

You’re hesitant to call her a friend, but she is the closest thing you had to one in this place. None of your usual co-workers had been asked to attend this trip.

When the Unity Day bombings happened, you were still in a hotel room. The scenes playing out on the TV were horrifying, even without English captions to translate. The attack was said to have been carried out by some sort of radical American terrorist group. However, the fact that Nicholas Fury’s face kept flashing across the screen as a person of interest was all it took to make your mind race with unanswered questions. It had been a long time since you’d seen Nick Fury; nearly a decade.

Why was he here?

♡ ︎ 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝙾𝚗 𝙰𝚘𝟹 ♡ ︎

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Chapter Sixteen

Moscow Nights

Prologue and oc intro

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter six

Chapter seven, part one

Chapter seven, part two

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Mori led you into the large tower, taking you to one of the upper floors. He gave you clean clothes to change into, a simple black turtleneck and red dress, along with a new coat, gloves, and scarf for when you’re ready to leave. You made a mental note to stop on the way back home to check for tracking devices, couldn’t have anyone else know where the Society headquarters are after the Guild incident. 

After you got changed you stopped by Mori’s office like he requested, just to talk he said. The office was just as nice as Miss Jane’s, a familiar decor, just a lot darker. Mori sat in a velvet chair, facing the window that looked over Yokohama, fitting. On the ground next to him was that little blond girl he asked you to help find all those months ago, Elise you think. Lastly in the chair next to him was that red head in the fedora, the one who bought flowers from your shop, that Fyodor went on to frame for breaking into your apartment, Chuuya. The two of them seemed to be discussing something important. You knocked on the doorframe which caught their attention. Mori smiled and waved you over, interrupting their conversation. “Miss (Name), please come in and may I say you look lovely.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Mori.” You stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long, I have to be back home, I promised William to-“

“I understand you’re a busy woman, Miss (Name). So I’ll get straight to the point.” Mori interrupted you, picking up something on the coffee table in between himself and Chuuya, it was a file. “I know about your charity ball, and I know there is an auction happening on one of the floors above. If any of the Port Mafia member goes in there they’ll be recognized. That’s where you come in.”

“M-me?” You should have realized that Mori was up to something when you came in here. Gaston was right, you can’t trust anyone outside of the society. 

“Yes, Miss (Name), come here.” You walked up nervously and took the file he was handing you, most of the information was blacked out but the lot number was there, lot six-six-five. “It’s files under the guise of a first edition book, you probably are not familiar with the organization the Rats of the House of the Dead, but I do trust you are familiar with their leader, Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

Your eyes unknowingly went wide in shock and horror, this hasn’t gone unnoticed by Mori and Chuuya. Mori chuckled and Chuuya sighed. “Boss, now you’re just scaring her.”

“The first to make a move wins, but there is no need to fear about the demon. Earlier today I have received word from one of my executives that a bounty hunter he hired caught him.” Part of you calmed when Mori spoke those words, but you know Fyodor, he was almost able to outsmart Gaston, keyword almost. You know how Gaston triumphed in the end, making them all dance like actors on a stage, that composer scared you sometimes. But Mori’s words quickly caught you out of your thoughts. “Now, we’ll be giving you a cap of a million to bid on this item and afterwards you will meet Chuuya here outside the hotel to give him the files or report that you lost it and return the cash and tell us who bought it and we’ll deal with it as such.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Well I could always make good of my promise of making sure you never see the light of day again.” A wicked smile comes across Mori’s face and you took a step back in unease at that. He chuckles and shakes his head. “But something about your reaction tells me that you’ll accept, and don’t worry for the information you’ll get us, you’ll be probably compensated, information perhaps? It’s negotiable.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, it’s a deal then.” You respond and Mori smiles, not as madly as before.

“Wonderful, now then you are welcome to stay and chat if you would like to, if not I can have one of my men escort you back-“

“No thank you, I’ll be fine. I’ll be calling one of the society’s chauffeurs to pick me up. I can’t be having you know where the Society’s headquarters is, now can I? I do wish you well, and I trust we’ll be in contact.” You cut Mori off with a smirk and pull out your phone, glancing back at the two of them before you step out into the hall. “Chuuya, one thing, a question.”

“Huh? What do you want?” He asked, not necessarily angry, even sounding too tired to be angry.

“That day when you bought those flowers, roses I remember, why and what did you do with them?” You looked away, still in thought. “It’s a weird question I know, but that same evening my apartment was broken into and framed to make it look like you did it.”

“Well, I got them because I felt bad cause I was just bothering you at work, I put them in my room.” He answered your question bluntly and almost a bit nervous. “Do you know who broke in?”

“I do, he’s the most dangerous individual I have ever met.” You began dialing up the number of your chauffeur as you spoke. “Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

You watched as a slight look of shock came across their faces. “But… how did he possibly know about the roses I bought?”

“Apparently he has been watching me, it must have been easy work for him to do so.” You stepped even farther into hallway, ready to hit the call button for your chauffeur. “My final word of warning if what you say is true about Fyodor being in your custody, I would be careful. This is a game for Fyodor that you are unknowingly pieces in, I have made that mistake of underestimating him before when I didn’t listen to Gaston’s warnings. So listen to mine, never let your guard down, never trust anyone outside your close allies for it you do it may mean your end and as much as I hate to admit it this city needs the Port Mafia. As a member of the Society this city can go on without me and it will one day when I leave it when the Society’s purpose is done here.”

“You’ll be leaving? I know you’re not from Yokohama but this is your home, isn’t it?” Mori asked, his curiosity peaked. You nodded with a smile.

“Yes, I will be. I was indeed born in England, and now I have mystery I want to solve. It’s the mystery on where my father is, call it a hunch but I think he’s still alive.” You laugh to yourself and wave goodbye. “Now, that’s enough of my crazy thoughts, I’ll be off now.”

—————————

You arrived back at the apartment building, it was late when you got back, practically everyone was asleep but judging by the sound of music from a certain composer’s room you knew someone else was awake. You walked over and knocked and the music stopped and Gaston answered, looking slightly disheveled like he normally does after working on his music. “Oh (Name), welcome. I was just composing but you are are always welcome.”

“Thanks Gaston, but I need to talk to you.” You stepped inside as you spoke. “It’s about Fyodor.”

Gaston grew silent for a long moment before sighing. “I’ll get the whiskey.”

You sat down on the couch in Gaston’s lounge as he went to the drink cart and poured two of glasses of whiskey for the two of you. He sat down on the couch across from you, setting your drink on the table in between the two of you. He took a long drink before sighing and setting his drink down on the table. “Now, what is this about Fyodor?”

“An unknown Port Mafia executive had a bounty hunter capture him, apparently it was successful.” You replied before taking a long sip from your own glass.

“And who told you this?”

“Mori Ougai himself.” And as soon as you said this Gaston took off his glasses and pinched his nose, and running his hand the his hair. You could hear small swears from under his breath.

“This isn’t good, he’s obviously playing them. He wants something.” He stood up from his chair and gripped his hair and swore even more under his breath. “You warned them, right?”

“I did, if they take me seriously not is up to them, they may not out of pride or a need for vengeance for what he has done.” You responded as you watched Gaston picked up his drink and downed the rest of his drink. “I don’t know what we’ll do, I don’t know what his ability or even how to deal wit-“

“I know his ability and someone to deal with it, he’s a Society of Protection member as well. He just tends to be a tad busy.” He sighs and looks out the window and the snowy landscape before you all. He stared out at it for a long time before walking over to the piano and he picks up one of the picture frames on it. He looks at the photo for a long time like he did with the snow. “I’ll give him a call here soon. We just need to have patience. The strongest of all warriors are these two — time and patience.” He paused and laughed to himself. “God, I even sound like him.”

 You downed the rest of your drink like him before standing up. “I’m going to bed, I’ve had a long day. Good night, Gaston.”

You walked towards the door and you heard his voice call out as well to you. “Sweet dreams, mon ange.”

—————————

In the snowy city of Moscow sat a young man. He lived in a large manor, no, palace would be a better word. He sat in a lounge chair, tea set out on a side table next to him along with a old telephone, like one of the roaring twenties and a photo of the young noble with an all to familiar Gaston Leroux, old friends. His eyes were firmly fixed on the storming city outside, snow so thick it was hard to see. The room was silent until soft clicks of heels broke it.

“My liege, there is call for you from a Mr. Leroux.”

The young man looked over his shoulder at the butler and nodded. “Put him on the line.”

The butler nodded and ran off and soon the phone next to him began to ring. The man picked up and a smile came across his face as he spoke. “What do I owe this pleasure, Mr. Leroux? It has been quite some time.”

Across the world on the other end of the line was Gaston standing in his luxury apartment all the way in Yokohama. “Good morning your highness, I was just wondering if you remember the job I did for the European Union three years ago?”

The Russian man paused at his old friend’s question. “Yes, I do. Is this about Fyodor?”

There was a hum on the other end of the line. “Yes, yes it is, see Fyodor is here in Yokohama and I believe he wants it to be war between us…”

“So you need peace to balance the scales…” The Russian man finished his friend’s sentence before taking a sip of his tea. “You realize that while I may be your friend and member of the society, I am still royalty.”

“Yes, I know.” There was a chuckle from Gaston. “But who better than a Royal to teach our friend that Crime and Punishment mean nothing to War and Peace. Isn’t that right, Prince Leo Tolstoy?”

There was silence as the Prince sat there, pondering the question before turning to his butler. “Make preparations, I shall be off to Yokohama tomorrow morning.”

“So I take it that you’ll be here soon then?” Gaston asked on his end on his phone. The Russian laughed and took a sip of his tea before setting it aside.

“Most definitely, my dear old friend.” He leaned back into his chair with a closed eyed smile. “It has been far to long, perhaps I have forgotten what my fellow man means so me. Fyodor may not carry a sentimental attachment to his own, but I don’t think I could ever loose my love I have for my compatriots. Especially you Leroux, after all, three years ago when you first faced Fyodor, you saved my life.”

“I know, no need to bring up the past. Gaston said with a light laugh on the end of the phone.

“Oh but how could I, after all the past is what keeps me bonded to you all. We must seize the moments of happiness, love and be loved! That is the only reality in the world, all else is folly. It is the one thing we are interested in here.” The Prince sighed and smiled, eyes still closed. “I think it is time for Fyodor to learn that we can love a person dear to us with a human love, but an enemy can only be loved with divine love and that God may not smile on him for much longer.”

[depressopax]

Hi! I’ve recently come across your account and i absolutely adore it and you!

I’m not sure if you are still taking requests, cuz you haven’t posted anything in a month. But if you are,

I’d like to request something with Nairobi from money heist (La Casa De Papel.) where it’s like hurt/comfort. During the first heist where we comfort Nairobi after what Tokyo says to her about her son not remembering her. And it’s up to you if you wanna do NSFW or not.

Thank you so much, and thank you for your head cannons and stuff. Honestly, thank you for feeding my LCDP brain rot <3

Hii Anon! Thank you for the request, and I'm so glad you like what I write! It means a lot <3 Here's some Nairobi hurt/comfort! Hope you like it and have a nice day :D

Lifeline

Nairobi/Ágata Jiménez x gender neutral reader

Fandom - La casa de papel

Pairing: Nairobi x gender neutral reader Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst Warning(s): Angst but with a happy ending. Slight spoilers for season 1. Cussing, mentions of guns and violence. Hinted romance, slightly “suggestive” ending. Reader is gender neutral and is called “Athens”. Words: 0.9K Summary: Reader comforts Nairobi after an argument with Tokyo English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

|| AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

“Can I come in?” No reply. “...Please.”

“Just… Go away.”

Your heart aches, and you rest your forehead against the door to the bathroom. If only she’d let you in. If only she knew how much you cared. How much you love her. A wave of frustration crashes over you.

“Fuck it, I’m coming in.”

The sight you’re met by shatters your heart. The tough woman you’ve come to love, the one that shields her pain and suffering, is sitting on the cold tiles, next to the sinks. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, and she looks so small. Fragile. That’s the last thing she is - but all that Nairobi feels right now. 

Small, fragile, helpless. She hates the fact you have to see her like this. That you see her puffy eyes, the smudged mascara, and mess of a hair. She feels broken.

But you see her for what she is. Brave, intelligent, kind, but… Broken down. 

Fuck you, Tokyo. You dig your fingernails into the palm of you hand. Deep breaths. But the anger is rising. 

The both of you are quiet, but thinking of the same thing. Tokyo’s hurtful words echoing in your minds.

Your son won't probably even remember you. 

If Moscow hadn’t stopped her, would Tokyo be alive? You don’t want her dead, not really. But seeing Nairobi like this makes you wish you could put a bullet through the woman that caused her this much pain

You sink down on the floor, scooting close to Nairobi. Even after a long heist, she smells like home. Her warmth feels so comforting. She is perfect. Even when she feels like shit. 

“Don’t listen to her, Nairobi. Please…” 

“No, Athens. She’s right. She’s fucking right!” her voice gets louder at every word, and you can feel your heart aching. Oh, how you wish you could take away her pain.

“I’m a damn fool.” she mutters, and to hide the tears from you, she leans her head against her knees, preventing you from seeing her. All you can do is move closer to her. You wrap one arm around her, pulling her close. What you didn’t expect tho, is that she tilts her head sideways. Her dark hair tickles your shoulder as she leans on it. It causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, and you do your best to not breath too hard, suddenly very aware of every little movement. You swallow hard. Stay calm. Stay calm. 

Your mind goes back to the conversation you overheard. Tokyo, locked in the bathroom with Denver, Rio and Berlin, whom she was interrogating. Once again, those idiots went against the team. But that's not what makes you the most angry. When you walked past the door, you saw Nairobi, her face red with anger, and with tears threatening to fall down. “Shut up! SHUT UP!” You heard her scream, and then you heard Tokyo’s cold voice. A voice mocking the woman you love. A voice mocking Nairobi's plan. A voice telling her that her son, Axel, wouldn’t remember her. Anger flares up again, and without realizing, you squeeze Nairobi's shoulder. 

“Athens.” Her soft and raspy voice brings you back to the present. “Athens.”

You ease the grip on her, slightly embarrassed.

“Sorry.” 

You lock eyes with her, and without thinking of it, you wipe the tears from her puffy eyes, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin against your fingertips, the warmth and the familiarity. 

You’ve touched her - and been touched - so many times, yet your breath always hitches when you are this close. Nairobi notices this, and smiles. A smile. I made her smile. The thought makes you smile back at her, and for a moment, everything is perfect.

But reality catches up soon, and Nairobi sighs and looks away.

“Maybe Tokyo’s right? I mean… What was I thinking? Kidnapping my own son?” her laugh is bitter.

“Nairobi…”

“He probably doesn’t remember me. Maybe…” she swallows the lump in her throat. “...Maybe it’s for the best.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t fucking say that.” You cup her face, forcing her to meet your eyes.

“You’re his mother, Nairobi. Nothing can change that. And he’ll love you. So damn much. How can he not? You’re kind, you’re caring. Intelligent, funny, and… And…” You blush up and let go of her face. You have to clear your throat before continuing.

“...My point is: It’ll be okay.” 

The silence is less tense now, more comfortable. 

“Do you… Mean it?” Why does she sound so shocked?

“Of course. Why is it so hard to see how damn amazing you are?” You almost hiss, tired of the woman you love not seeing what you see. The perfection. 

“You’ll have to come with me.”

“When we find Axel?” 

She smiles at you.

“Yea. I’ll need emotional support.”

“I’m with you.”

“Pinky promise?”

She holds out her pinky finger, and you both giggle as you hook your finger with hers.

“I promise.” 

She pulls you in for a deep, needy kiss, and you respond with greed, with desire and love. Fuck, I love her. 

She pulls you up to sit in her lap, and you stay like that.

Nairobi looks at you, in pure awe and with love. You’re one of the few people she trusts. One of the people that sees her for her, and accepts all flaws, and loves her regardless. 

Her lifeline, her everything.

[memphisnovels]

Evermore

Chapter 13. Magic carpet ride

Previous chapter

Masterlist

I've had an overwhelming amount of love on this story lately which is so lovely to see! Nadia means a lot to me so I'm eternally grateful that she has been received with such love <3

This chapter includes a large milestone in Pietro and Nadia's relationship.

pairing: Pietro Maximoff x OFC

warnings: Canon-typical violence, big sister Natasha, PTSD and trauma, Nadia totally isn't in denial, arguing with flirtatious overtones.

“You and Speedy did well in Moscow.” Tony’s voice filled my ears the moment I entered the kitchen, he was engrossed in something on his tablet, only glancing up momentarily.

I shrugged. “I always do well.” Pietro’s snort filled the room as he sat beside Steve at the island. I narrowed my eyes at him. He offered me a cheeky smirk and stretched his arms above his head, cracking his joints as he did so. The muscles in his biceps rippled as he moved, his shirt tightening across the expanse of his back. I gulped down the green juice that was in my hand, averting my gaze the second his head turned in my direction.

“Good morning, friends,” Nat spoke beelining for the fridge and offering me a little smirk as she went. I rolled my eyes at her. She’d been giving me those looks anytime Pietro, and I were in a room together since we arrived back at the compound a week ago. I was choosing to face what had occurred, or almost occurred, in Moscow the way I faced anything that made me uncomfortable… by completely avoiding and ignoring it. Unfortunately for me, Natasha wasn’t the only constant reminder that followed me around, there was this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach that refused to go away, combined with a brain fog that stuck to my side like Pietro Maximoff.

“I’m thinking the theme should be 60s.” Tony suddenly said, still looking down at his tablet.

Nat gasped and clapped her hands together. “God, I love a themed party.”

“Is that when you were born?” I asked Tony teasingly.

“Excuse you?”

I shrugged, finishing my juice in a large gulp. “Well, it is your birthday party.”

“First of all, I was born in the 70s smart ass how old do you think I am? Second, I am touched that you actually remembered my birthday.”

“I was born in 1920!” Steve spoke glancing at the dark-haired man with raised eyebrows.

My laughter chorused with someone else’s and the moment I noticed it was Pietro’s I abruptly stopped, forcing the smile to drop from my face.

Natasha giggled to herself as Pietro shot me a disbelieving look. “Come on, Nads, I need your help finding an outfit for the party.” She wandered out of the room, gesturing me to follow. I fought to ignore the gaze that burnt into my back as I walked out behind her.

…

I dragged my hand over the array of brightly colored fabrics hanging off of the rack. Nat had dragged me along to a vintage store in the city in search of a ‘swinging sixties’ appropriate outfit.

“So… when are you going to address the elephant that seems to hang out in every room you share with a certain Sokovian.” A groan fell from my lips, and I attempted to walk ahead of her. “I’m not letting this go!” She called after me.

“There is no elephant, Natasha.”

She hummed. “Right, but you no longer loathe him with all the fire of a thousand suns?”

“You asked me to try! You and Steve practically scolded me for not being the president of his fan club. Remember the whole sparring partners, mission partners, never giving Nadia a break from Pietro Maximoff’s insufferable ass, thing.”

Her giggles filled my ears. “You are so ridiculous.”

I shot her a look of indignation, coming to an abrupt halt before her. “I am ridiculous?! Have you met that idiot?” I ran a hand through my hair. “He is insolent and stubborn-”

“Nadia, you are the most stubborn person I have met in my entire life.”

Her words incensed me further. “I am not stubborn, I…” Natasha’s smug look cut me off. I huffed and turned back toward the clothing rack.

“Argue it all you want but Steve and I were right to put you two together. Look at how far you’ve both come, as much as you claim to hate his guts, you work well together. You just completed a mission that was way more complex than projected and look at how much Pietro’s combat skills have improved after the months you’ve been training him.” I shook my head at her, not dignifying her with a response. For a long moment, neither of us spoke, but Nat continued to watch me. “They didn’t teach us how to love… I know that. They taught us to manipulate, to lie, to kill, but never how to feel anything really worth feeling.” I did not look at her; couldn’t. “And yet, despite everything you have loved, and you have shown love to people… maybe not in particularly conventional ways but fuck convention… you still have.”

I told her I didn’t know what she meant.

“Nadia.” Her eyes were glassy when I looked up, lines with a stream of liquid that glimmered under the lights. “Do you really think I don’t know what they would have done to you?” I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat and looked away yet again. “I know that it cost you, to keep my secret.”

My body was trembling violently, my upper half folded over my legs. I pressed my fingertips into the flesh of my calves, to remind myself I was still alive. Was it my birthday yet? Natasha had snuck a gift into my room before she left, a postcard.

‘Wish you were here’ printed over an illustration of what I believed to be New York City. A single word was inscribed in her handwriting on the other side.

‘Свобода.’

Freedom.

I’d shredded it into tiny, minuscule pieces the moment I’d read it, destroying any trace of the note. It hadn’t mattered much. Natasha and I were extremely close, and familial. If she were to tell anyone where she was going, it would have been me.

The torture started on a Thursday, I no longer knew what day it was, only that the weekend had come and gone.

“It ends whenever you want it to, Nadia.”

The sharp, glacial spray of high-pressure ice water rained down over my bare back, causing me to cry out. I was still small, but I’d endured torture before, not like this though. I wondered how much longer my body would hold on, my flesh had become so numb that I barely even felt the hits anymore, the ice water was the only thing that elicited any response at this point. I watched as my blood pooled with the water, dripping from my mouth and nose and God knows where else, swirling down the drain. A rough hand grabbed my chin, yanking my head up, Matron Katerina. Her thin, spindly fingers dug into my pale flesh. I had become too weak to hold my head up on my own.

“I don’t know,” I swore to her. “I am not a traitor.  If I knew where she was, I’d kill her myself.”

We’d talked about New York a lot. It became almost a figment of our imagination, a magical place where anything was possible, a place where we’d be safe.

“Freedom,” I murmured.

The tears streamed down her cheeks, but she wiped at them quickly, taking a deep breath. “You were so little, Nadia, you were so small, and still you protected me… You are not this heartless entity that doesn’t feel things just as strongly as the rest of us. I just wish that when you did, you’d let yourself.”

I picked a mini skirt off of the rack, examining it in silence for a moment. “You saw him die?” I tilted my head in her direction. Her silence prompted me to clarify. “Dreykov, you saw him die when you destroyed the Red Room.” 

“He’s dead, Nads.”

“Are you sure?” She furrowed her eyebrows at me, and I placed the skirt back. “At the factory, Obolensky said something to me. He said that the drug samples were going to the ‘next batch of girls'.”

Natasha shook her head, taking a step toward me and placing a gentle, tentative hand on my shoulder. “It’s gone. For good. Obolensky always played mind games, it’s his forte. He’s just trying to live in your head, don’t let him.”

I nodded slowly. She was right, Obolensky's main objective in the Red Room was to teach the widows how to use psychological warfare to obtain information; manipulation was his specialty. It was not out of character for him to lie just to have us living on edge, he’d said he wanted to make me suffer, how better to achieve that than to put in my head that it was still happening? No. I was sure Natasha was right. I attempted to swallow down the uneasy feeling that sat within me.

“This is cute,” Nat said, fiddling with the hem of a dress,

“Have you ever watched the ballet?”

Natasha offered me another incredulous look. “They made us dance it, not watch it. I don’t remember ever seeing ballet performed by someone other than us.”

I nodded, fiddling with my fingers. “I know, that’s what I thought… It’s just something else Obolensky said. I probably just need to get a decent night’s sleep.” I shook my head, running my fingers through my hair once more and taking a deep, settling breath. My nerves were still shot from Moscow and the reunion with Obolensky. I grabbed a lime green mini dress from the rack, holding it up in front of Natasha. “I want this one.” She grinned, nodding approvingly at my choice.

…

“Faster.”

His heavy breathing filled my ears. “I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.” I adjusted the wraps on my hands before returning to my defensive position in front of Pietro. “Again.” He threw two more jabs which I easily dodged, narrowing my eyes at him. I continued to taunt him as we sparred.

“Can you please be a little nicer to me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Your punches are much better, and your stance is perfect. Now work harder.”

Pietro’s scowl turned into a beaming smile. “Thank you, I’ve been practicing.” I chose not to respond. We still had not addressed that day in Moscow, I was content with leaving it that way. Though, I was hoping at some point the bizarre tension between us would dissolve. “Are you excited for Stark’s party?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “What is this? Chit chat?”

“We’re friends, is that not what friends do?”

A choked laugh fell from my lips. “Since when are we friends?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten our bonding moment in Moscow?” It was as if he could read my mind and pick out the most irritating things to bring up. I narrowed my eyes at his reference to that day. Of course, I remembered. The warmth of his hands on my cheeks, his breath ghosting over my lips, the look in his eyes. I swallowed heavily and the corners of his lips upturned into a look so dangerous it had my heart racing. “I just mean you finally admitting you don’t actually hate me.”

“Not completely loathing you is not the same as being your friend.” I hoped it served as a shift in conversation tone, attempting to ignore the flush that crept up my neck.

His smile only grew, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I think we’re friends.”

“I’m sure you do.”

The air was so thick between us it felt almost impossible to inhale. He raised his eyebrows teasingly and what he did next was infuriating in every way. His eyes moved ever so slowly down to my lips and his tongue peaked out, wetting his own, before his eyes met mine again. He squinted at me for a second, daring, taunting. “Are you bringing someone?”

My teeth were gritted as I willed my heart to slow. When would I have had time to even speak to someone else? I shrugged. “I haven’t decided, but when I do you will be the very first to know.”

The look in his eyes changed, a smirk sat casually on his lips, but his eyes seemed different to me then. “Maybe I should bring someone special.” This game was different, one we’d yet to play. I wasn’t sure if I liked it.

“Maybe you should.”

His teeth were revealed to me as his grin opened his mouth. When Obolensky smiled with his teeth it uneased me, yet it was different when it was Pietro. An entirely different feeling rose along my spine, curving over my flesh. “Did you and Natasha get your outfits?” I hummed. “Will you show me yours?” No matter how much I attempted to fight it, to set my face with a scowl, it was useless. My lips upturned and an amused smile spread across my face.

“Can we spar now or are you going to keep talking?” I crossed my arms over my chest and popped my hip out, continuing to fight my budding grin.

“We can do whatever you want, Prinţesă.”

I rolled my eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Focus, Pietro.”

“Oh, I’m focused.”

As much as I attempted to ignore his incessant teasing my body seemed to have other ideas. I hated that it was so easy for him to get a reaction out of me. Generally, it was frustration but there were times, most times, when the frustration almost seemed to act more as a mask to something much more complex. I chose to ignore it, clinging to my anger instead. Anger was simple, it came easily to me.

By the time I was pulling the white Gogo boots onto my legs, my body felt like a live wire. I was on edge, awaiting his looks, his words; their undertones. As I wandered into the party, I smoothed a hand over the satin ribbon that sat just before the bump in my hair. People were strewn all over the place, sipping their drinks and filling the area with sound. I accepted a glass of bubbling wine from a tray carried by a man in a black vest, tucking the wrapped package beneath my arm. The sound of Steppenwolf played through the speaker system, traveling along the corridors. On the last step my eyes clapped on him, it drove me crazy how easy it was for me to spot him. He was wearing a plaid three-piece suit, dark green. Our eyes met and a smile tugged at his lips. Warmth rose along the path his eyes took over my body, lips to feet. My heart thrummed against my sternum and much to my chagrin I felt the corners of my lips pulling upward.

“Stop it right now!”

A glance over my shoulder revealed Natasha and Maria Hill staring at me, the former with wide eyes. “What?” I followed their eyes over my body, giving them both a bemused look.

“The way you look should be illegal. Seriously, I’m questioning a lot of things right now.” Agent Hill spoke up.  

I rolled my eyes at the two women, doing a silly little spin for them before shrugging. The three of us laughed and fell into an easy rhythm, conversing about life since Sokovia. I’d always liked Maria, she was… real, I didn’t trust her with all of my secrets, but I wasn’t completely weary of her either. We’d worked together in the field a lot when I was an agent at S.H.I.E.L.D. We’d been a great team; I was glad that she’d stuck around.

“I’m sorry, are we just ignoring that Pietro has barely taken his eyes off of you in the last hour?” Natasha suddenly spoke, an exasperated expression evident on her features. Maria choked on her drink but quickly covered her laugh with a cough when I turned my harsh gaze to her. I glanced over my shoulder at the offending silver-haired man. He offered me a sly smile when our eyes met, excusing himself from Steve and Wanda to approach me. When I turned back around, I caught sight of Tony over Maria’s shoulder. I ignored the look Natasha gave me, shifting swiftly and walking past her.

Tony was talking to Rhoadey when I approached, the latter appearing thoroughly irritated with his good friend. “Happy birthday.” I spoke when Tony spotted me, I quickly shoved the package into his hands. My eyes darted around as he unwrapped it, attempting to seem nonchalant irrespective of the nerves that clawed at me. “It’s just something small, what does one even give a bazillionaire anyway?” I rambled.  He was silent as he flipped through the book, each page printed with an image. One, a picture I’d taken of a wall where someone had spray painted a thank you note, another of Tony messing around with his suits, the caption reading ‘always tinkering’. I’d had to collect images from Pepper, Rhoadey, and the rest of the team to make it. “I don’t know if it’s stupid. Maybe it is.” I watched intently as he reached the final page, an image of the team sitting in the old Avengers tower out of our suits, drinks in hand; calm. The caption beneath read ‘a strange, dysfunctional, irritating family. A family nonetheless.’ I wrung my hands together, looking anywhere but at him as he lifted his gaze.

“It’s not stupid, Nadia.” Finally, I met his eyes. “Not at all.” The look in his eyes said a lot more than any words he could have spoken. I preferred it this way, unspoken, mutually acknowledged.

“Happy birthday,” I repeated.

He smiled at me then and it caused something deep within me to shift.

Stars shining bright above you.

It was the boy at the dinner table across from me, the one who spilled the water all over the table, he was there again. Or a flash of him was anyway, just for a split second, and then he was Tony again. I clutched my head.

Dream a little dream of me.

“Why do you keep playing this song?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at me. “What do you mean?”

“Dream a little dream of me. What is this song from?”

Tony seemed utterly baffled by my question, but there was something else in his eyes, something small and pained; something personal. “I don’t know, it’s a good song. What is your deal? You freaked out in the tower when it played too. Why do you hate it so much?”

I shook my head, blinking rapidly, feeling slightly disoriented. Tony said my name, but I turned away from him quickly, mumbling an excuse as I began to leave his side. Pietro filled my line of sight prompting me to change paths once again. My head was spinning slightly. Everything was suddenly too much, too loud, too close, I needed to be out of this room. A breeze wrapped around me and before I knew it, I was deposited on a balcony in the fresh air. I whirled around to see Pietro watching me, concern evident across his features. The music was much quieter out here and the song had changed. I could breathe again.

The Sokovian man wandered past me, leaning his forearms over the railing, and inhaling deeply. His broad back flattened the fabric of his suit, it was hard to tear my eyes away. The moonlight gleamed around his body, illuminating him.

“I did not need your help…”

“No, you never do.”

I fiddled with the flared sleeves of my dress. “Thank you.”

“Why are you avoiding me?” He continued staring out at the inky black sky as he spoke.

“I’m not.” He let out a theatrical puff of air, glancing at me over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows. My eyes closed for a moment, a sigh falling from me. “Why would you even care if I was avoiding you? I thought you were going to bring someone special?”  Pietro shot me an unimpressed look over his shoulder, though, I saw the way his lips upturned.

“Well, it’s not like you would have noticed either way.”

I ignored his words. “Couldn’t you find someone willing to deal with you for a night?”

“You seem to ‘deal’ with me just fine.”

“That’s different, we work together. I don’t have a choice.” Was my quick response. I paused for a moment before adding anything else. “I suppose what I meant to say is were you not able to find someone, other than me, to put up with you.”

“Well, therein lies the problem… I’m not sure I want to.” I opened my mouth to respond and then closed it again after a few seconds of floundering. I was sure my brain must have short-circuited. Words meet mouth, why could I not say anything? No witty retort or shielding taunt became apparent as I stared at him, lips parting slightly as he took a step toward me. “Are you okay?” He murmured gently; he was so soft with me. It was unfamiliar and frankly a little frightening. I wanted to say something, I wanted to speak tohim. My lips formed his name. It was almost as if it acted as a beckon to him as he took another step toward me the second it left me. He repeated his question.

I nodded twice, watching him carefully. “I’m fine.” 

“You usually say that when you’re not.” 

“I am. It’s just that-” I stopped myself short realizing I was about to tell him the truth. The words had come so easily I’d nearly let them flow right out. 

“Just that what?” 

I shook my head, pressing my fingers to the flesh of my forehead. “Nothing.” 

“Don’t do that.” 

I raised an eyebrow at him, fixing him with an icy glare. “Do what?”

“Nadia.” Another step forward, I was the one who moved I realized. The air between us was electric; dangerous. “Stop acting like you don’t feel anything.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I glared up at him, attempting to appear completely unaffected. “Is that how I’m acting? I was not aware you held so much insight into the inner workings of my brain.” His jaw clenched. There was something in his eyes then, something unrecognizable but somehow it thawed my attitude slightly. “I don’t know… It just… There are these strange things that come to me sometimes. It’s like I’m looking in on someone else’s life through a window. I don’t understand it and that frightens me.” The vulnerability rife in my statement made my stomach churn, sweat beading on the back of my neck despite the cool breeze dancing across my flesh.

He took another step toward me. “It’s okay to be frightened, Nadia.”

I shook my head. “Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying my name like that.” My feet brought me another step forward without my permission. “Stop looking at me like that. Stop being so…understanding.”

The warmth radiated off of Pietro, settling into my skin. I wondered if he was always this warm, maybe it was something to do with his enhancements. Even in Moscow, he’d surrounded me with heat each time our bodies made contact. “Why?” He murmured. “Am I making it hard to keep pretending?”

“I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Pietro.” It was soft, reminiscent of that night in Moscow in the dim glow of moonlight when I’d woken him from his nightmare. I didn’t know how to answer him, not without revealing too much of myself. I told myself that I didn’t have an answer but even I knew that was a lie. I wondered if perhaps I was simply not built for these kinds of feelings and that’s why it made me feel so strange. The sound of his name filling the small space between us had him taking another step toward me; fully entering my space now. His hand rose slowly, hovering between us, awaiting my permission. I met his eyes, icy blue, beautiful. I nodded gently. He closed the distance, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before caressing the spot just below my eye with his thumb.

His words drifted across my skin causing my eyelids to flutter closed. “I’m glad you did not show me your outfit the other day. It was worth the wait.” My head seemed to instinctually tilt toward the sound of his voice. “Do you like my suit?” Our eyes met and it became apparent that all it would take is one more tilt of my head and his lips would drag over mine. “Tell me.” He whispered when I remained silent.

I nodded gently, gazing up at him. “I do.” His lips curved up.

“What do you like about it?”

“You’re pushing it, Maximoff.” He breathed a laugh, eyes flicking downwards momentarily. I felt like I could barely breathe when he looked at me. “You look good, is that what you want me to say?”

It was his turn to nod.

“You drive me insane; you know that.”

“I drive you insane. What do you think you do you me?” His hand slipped from my cheek down to my jaw. “I wanted to kiss you in Moscow. You know that right?” His gaze was intense, unwavering and I felt like I was melting beneath his touch. “I’ve thought about it every night since. It’s like I’m losing my mind, every second that you stay away is pure torture.”

“I don’t want to torture you, Pietro.”

His lips tugged upward and when his nose grazed mine, I was sure I stopped breathing for a moment. Before I knew what I was doing, I felt my face tilt upwards slightly, leaning more into him. “So don’t.” Every rational thought slipped from my mind, and for a moment, the only thing that existed was him. His lips were soft like I thought they’d be, and extremely adept. Soft, and sweet.��The kiss was gentle, and I knew from the moment his lips touched mine that I never wanted it to end.

He overtook every one of my senses. All I could smell, taste, and feel was him, and for some strange reason, his touch seemed to free me. We were so close that I could no longer tell where he ended, and I began. I supposed it didn’t matter, not when he was kissing me like I was the stars and the moon and the cosmos and nothing else had ever mattered. Even when our lips separated, I was still so engrossed in him that I could not open my eyes. We breathed into each other, foreheads resting together. For a long while it was just this moment until it wasn’t.

“I knew you were hot for me.” It was silly and not at all facetious, yet the sound of his voice pulled me from my reverie. It was as if a bucket of cold water was dumped over me and all of the sudden the moment was gone, and Pietro was too close. I lurched away from him, attempting to breathe evenly again. I couldn’t believe I’d been so weak, and let go so easily. It was pathetic and I hated myself. I don’t get to have this; this isn’t what I want. That’s what I told myself. “Are you okay?”

“This was a mistake…” My head was spinning.

Pietro’s face fell as he watched me and the look, he gave me then made everything so much worse. My eyes were stinging, and I resented the feeling that seared through my body. “What? No, Nadia, it was just a stupid joke, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I shook my head, turning to the door that would lead me back inside, away from him. “It’s not what you said, it’s fine just forget it.” He grabbed my forearm to stop me from leaving, it was gentle, always gentle. “Don’t…” I couldn’t look at him as I said it.

“Don’t what? I don’t understand what happened, did I do something wrong?”

The stream of liquid that ran down my cheek enraged me. I shook my head firmly at him, slipping my arm from him and turning away fully. “Just let it go, Pietro. Let me go.”

“Nadia… look at me.”

I didn’t. Instead, I pushed through the balcony doors and re-entered the bustling party. Slipping through the crowd was easy, I’d been trained to move unseen, swift, and silent. The moment I pushed through the main door leading out of the party I let myself sink into the wall, leaning my head back and taking a deep breath. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and shook my head as if to clear my overwhelmed mind. My body trembled and I felt sick to my stomach. Not because of the touch that still lingered on my flesh, but because of the look Pietro had set me with before I left. It was burned into the back of my eyelids. My heart thumped against my sternum. Why didn’t I walk away from him the moment he moved toward me? Why did I tell him the truth? I could have lied, deflected with cold indifference, and have been free of this. I let him bait me, let him lure me into his kindness, into his unabashed truthfulness, and lost control of myself. The worst part is that I knew where it would end if I played along, and I did it anyway. It was as if I’d wanted to end up there. I shook my head again, running a hand through my hair and letting my eyes fall shut.

My peace did not last long, a voice echoed down the hall. “How are you doing?” I glanced toward the sound, it was Rhoadey, but I could not see him.

Another familiar voice piped up in response. “Oh, just superb! You know me, it’s always a party here.” Tony. They must have been around the corner.

It became abundantly clear to me that this was a conversation I was not meant to overhear as Rhoadey continued. “I know it’s harder on days like this… to feel like something’s missing. Like someone, who is supposed to be here, who should have been here isn’t.” I furrowed my eyebrows at the words.

“Let’s not do this whole thing, Rhoadey. Really, I’m fine.”

“I’d be worried if you were fine man. There’s no shame in feeling it.” A loud sigh echoed off the walls. “I’m not going to tell you how to grieve, Tony.”

“Oh, great thanks.” Was the man’s sarcastic reply.

I could almost picture Rhoadey’s exasperated expression. “However-” a jumble of profanities cut him off momentarily. “I am going to tell you not to act like you’re not feeling anything. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but you cannot just pretend it never happened. You can’t deal with it by forgetting or compartmentalizing, you have to talk about her.”

“Don’t.” I’d never heard Tony sound like that, there was a sternness to his tone, a sharp, demanding edge that left no room for argument. “I did not ask to have some deep and meaningful with you about this, James. We are not talking about her, not ever, so stop riding my ass about healthy grieving or whatever the hell and drop it!” Rhoadey attempted to protest but Tony spoke up again, cutting him off.  “It’s all good, just have another drink, Rhoades.” He was back to his normal, nonchalant demeanor but there was an undertone in his voice that gave away that it was not all good.

Silence filled the hall once more, I decided to leave, not wanting to intrude any further on this evidently private conversation.

[elenatria]

I just came back from my Stellanspotting trip at the Ischia Film Festival and as I'm going through my files I'm filled with the memories of all my crazy Chernobyl-related trips of the past. It all comes back to me, how Alan Williams was the first Chernobyl cast member I ever met, how it all felt, and still makes me feel; the heroes, the villains. The crazy pairings.

So in my Alan Williams folder I come across this sceenshot from the Chernobyl script. That line was included in the scene, however if Alan Williams had uttered it twice ("anything", as mentioned in the original script) it would have had a different meaning. I've never been a fan of Chalery (or dubcon for that matter) but I know someone who was. We've drifted apart over the years, I don't know what fandom she is into now, but I hope she sees this just because now I understand, and wish I could have shared this with her when it mattered.

So here it is.

Charkov showers Valery with all kinds of threats, and when it's time to "read him his sentence", to tell him that his fate is going to be slow death and oblivion, he gloats: "It would be embarrassing to kill you now. And for what? Your testimony never happened, you never happened." He leans over Valery's ear, his voice nothing more than a lewd whisper. "But I can take it all back," he breathes with a dark smile. "You know I can, don't you, Valery? When we're back in Moscow I want you to report to me Monday evening. In my office at the Lubyanka."

Valery's face goes white as as sheet. "Report... report what?"

"You're not the one asking questions, Legasov," Charkov cuts him off. He gives him one last look and strides out of the kitchen.

That Monday, when Valery crosses Myasnitskaya Street with his gaze fixed on the massive building, its hundred glass eyes staring back at him, its old yellow bricks reeking of paranoia and torture and death, the sun has already set and the soft evening breeze, albeit July, chills him to the bone. He fills his lungs with the smell of the metropolis around him, the last air he will ever breathe, and enters the foyer. The receptionist has already been notified about his arrival, the guard is too ready to lead him to a discreet door on the third floor that no one would ever suspect to belong to the head of the KGB.

"It's just a door," Valery mutters to himself, his nerves tight as violin strings.

He knocks, and a cold compelling voice invites him in. A young employee with a side part and a freshly pressed suit, his back turned on the door, gives him a startled look over his shoulder and hastily gathers the papers scattered all over the Chairman's desk.

"I'll sign those later, Lyosha," Charkov decides and gives the young man a little smile.

Lyosha doesn't return the smile: he clutches the papers to his chest and leaves, giving Valery a curious side glance, as if someone as important as the deputy director of the Kurchatov institute has no business being there, in that remote half-lit room of the ancient headquarters of the KGB.

Charkov gets on his feet, straightens his tie and nods Valery towards a seat. As Valery sinks down, his back squeaking against old leather, he hears Charkov's footsteps behind him, the key turning twice with a dry click. He chokes on nothing. He wishes he could light a cigarette but there are no ashtrays in the office - not that he'd dare. He could use a swig of vodka but he remembers alcohol gives him chest burns. He's dying for fresh air but the windows are shut, the curtains drawn.

He's alone with a man who could shoot a bullet through his scull and have dinner with his wife afterwards.

Charkov walks back in front of him, sitting lazily on the desk, both hands in his pockets.

"Professor Legasov," he fakes a sigh crossing his legs, "what are we to do with you..."

Valery's tongue stiffens, his eyes glued to the floor. "I did as you asked," he mutters, "I came."

"Oh no," Charkov's face lights up with devilish amusement, "not yet."

Valery looks up, not sure if there's some sort of hidden meaning behind the words of the Chairman of the KGB. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do n__"

"Close your eyes," Charkov says. His voice has an unexpected softness to it.

"What__"

"Close. Your. Eyes."

Valery slides his eyes shut, knowing that this desk, those chairs, those drawn curtains could be the last objects he'd ever see before the barrel of a Makarov empties out in his brain. He wants to stop his hands from shaking, he wants to be brave and scream to the man placing both hands on the arms of his chair to get this over with, and just as he clasps his knees, ready to spring from his seat and fight for his life, the touch of lips against his own shuts him up completely, the hardened tip of a tongue takes his breath away as it pushes between his teeth, seeking to reach deeper.