#maybe hack FRIDAY

[marvel-lous-guy]

Tony: I've figured out your plan on how to sneak out and be Spiderman!

Peter: Well that just proves you're an idiot because I don't have a plan!

[brekitten]

The Therapist

There's a new therapist at school.

Normally this wouldn't really bother Peter at all, since he's never gone to see a shrink in his life and doesn't ever plan on it, but there's something... off about this woman.

She seems unassuming enough at first glance. Red hair, green eyes, bright red lipstick. But there is something in her eyes, something that Peter can only describe as a predator looking at its next prey, when she looks around the school at all of the teenagers milling about. Heck, even the way she walks makes her seem as if she is a predator stalking her prey.

It could always be some kind of power move, Peter reasons. He's met people like that before, who try to intimidate everyone around them into thinking that they are superior, that they are the apex predator and anyone who dares to cross them would pay for it dearly.

But his Spidey Sense went crazy around her.

He tries to brush it off as paranoia. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night in the lab with Tony because neither of them had been able to sleep, and he hadn't been sleeping well even before that. (Funny, how it had all started the night after he first bumped into the new therapist in the halls.) So his Spidey Sense is probably out of wack because he's tired. Simple as that.

But it seems like everyone in the school is depressed. Even Ned, who can't even muster up the energy and enthusiasm to talk about Legos or Star Wars or even the weather. It worries Peter.

Because it all started when that therapist came to the school.

He can't ignore it forever, he knows that. There is only so long his Spidey Sense can tell him that she is danger danger danger before he finally listens. He has to do something to help everyone.

So he researches.

And he falls into the rabbit hole of ghosts and ectoplasm and secret government organizations and the little, unassuming town of Amity Park, Illinois.

He doesn't sleep that night.

When he comes to school the next morning, Dr. Penelope Spectra looks him dead in the eyes, and smiles.

[kiwriteswords]

For the trope day could we please see maybe celebrity reader and hotch? congrats btw!

Walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya [Aaron Hotchner x Popstar!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN: I keep seeing so much queen Sabrina Carpenter stuff around the Hotch fandom these days; she's who I envisioned reader to be like here--but obviously open to interpretation of whatever popstar you would want to be! I lowkey could never picture this happening, but it was fun, nonetheless. This is also likely my last story I'll do for trope tuesday because they take a lot of time, haha. Unless I do a short drabble!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, speculating bau team!, gossip!!, Penelope Garcia is your biggest fan!!!, you're a superstar who sells out stadiums, even rossi knows this!, mysterious!hotch, more of a fun one-shot than anything too fluffy, very team-focused, non-bau!reader

Summary: Hotch has been in a great mood, oddly enough, and when one day, he hands over tickets to Penelope for her favorite singer of all time--you--the team really begins to wonder where Hotch is spending his free time.

The bullpen of the BAU was unusually animated for a Monday morning. Derek leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, watching Reid flip through files at an astonishing rate while Penelope hovered over both their shoulders, her curiosity practically buzzing.

“Seriously, Spence, you didn’t notice anything different about Hotch last week?” Derek asked, his tone teasing but genuinely curious.

Reid, without looking up from his reading, adjusted his glasses. “Well, he did leave on time every day, which is statistically significant for him.”

“Leaving on time? That’s an understatement. The man was practically sprinting out the door at five o’clock. And he smiled--actually smiled--at me yesterday,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes wide with the thrill of the gossip.

Emily, walking in with a cup of coffee in hand, joined the group. “Don’t forget, he also took a personal day last Friday. When’s the last time Hotch took a day off that wasn’t for something work-related?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Exactly! Something’s up. Hotch is seeing someone; it’s got to be.”

Reid finally looked up, curiosity overcoming him. “But who would it be? I mean, we practically live at work. When would he even have the time to meet someone?”

Penelope twirled a strand of her brightly colored hair, thinking. “Oh, my sweet geniuses, that’s the million-dollar question! I could do a little cyber snooping--”

“Penelope, no hacking into Hotch’s personal life,” Emily cut off, her tone half-serious. “But I agree, it’s odd. He’s even been more... what’s the word?”

“Chill?” Derek suggested with a chuckle. “For Hotch standards, anyway.”

The group’s laughter was a mixture of disbelief and genuine amusement, just as Rossi walked up, a knowing smile playing onhis lips. “Talking about our fearless leader’s mysterious new habits?”

Derek nodded, welcoming Rossi into the conversation. “Rossi, you’re the profiler extraordinaire with all the life experience. What’s your read on this?”

Rossi stroked his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. “Well, if I were a betting man--and I occasionally am--I’d say our boy Hotch might just be reminding himself there’s more to life than case files and jet fuel.”

Reid’s brow furrowed in thought. “It’s statistically rare for individuals in high-stress jobs to make sudden changes to their behavioral patterns without a significant emotional or personal catalyst.”

“Exactly,” Penelope squealed, delighted by the support for their theories. “He’s got to be dating someone. This is just like those romance novels where the broody, mysterious man finds love and starts changing his ways.”

JJ laughed, sipping her coffee. “Let’s not get carried away. It could be anything--maybe he’s just taking up a new hobby…or maybe it’s Jack.”

“But a hobby that makes him leave work on time and take days off? That’s not just any hobby; that’s a passion,” Derek countered, his smile suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying the speculation.

The group quieted as Hotch suddenly appeared, his pace steady and his expression unreadable as always. He paused by their cluster, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Morning,” he greeted, a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. “I trust we’re all ready to focus on the real mysteries at hand today?”

Caught in their own theories, the team straightened up, mumbling their morning greetings. Hotch’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual, giving nothing away.

As he walked off towards his office, Emily whispered to the group, “See? Happier. I’m telling you, there’s definitely something--or someone--new in his life.”

Rossi chuckled, watching Hotch disappear into his office. “Or maybe our esteemed unit chief just decided it’s time to start living a little. Either way, it’s good to see.”

The team nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch’s unusual behavior lingering in the air, adding a layer of intrigue to their day. Derek grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to work. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll crack the case of the Happy Hotch.”

Laughter echoed softly among them as they dispersed to their desks, the day’s work ahead, but their minds still occasionally drifted to the enigma of Aaron Hotchner’s uncharacteristic lightness.

Days after the team's animated discussion about Hotch's peculiarly cheerful demeanor, Penelope Garcia was in her vibrant lair, surrounded by her kaleidoscope of tech and trinkets.

The sound of a catchy pop song filled the air, and Penelope couldn't help but dance and sing along to the tune, her voice echoing slightly off the walls lined with monitors.

She was in the middle of a particularly enthusiastic chorus when a knock at the door made her jump. Swiveling around in her chair, she saw Hotch standing at the entrance, an amused smile barely touching his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Hotch said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor.

Penelope chuckled, brushing off her surprise with a flamboyant wave of her hand. "Oh, it's nothing, Sir. Just enjoying some tunes while I work. You know, fuel for the brain!"

Hotch nodded, his gaze drifting momentarily to the colorful post-it notes of affirmations on her screen. "I couldn’t help but overhear. Do you like this artist?" he asked, nodding toward the speaker from where the music still played, though now at a lower volume.

Penelope’s eyes lit up, eager to share her enthusiasm. "Like her? I adore her! She’s all about empowerment and fun, and her beats are just infectious. Plus, her lyrics are, like, super relatable. She's a total queen!" Penelope exclaimed, not missing the opportunity to promote her musical taste.

Hotch's smile grew a bit as he listened to Penelope’s gushing review. "I see," he said, his voice filled with a warm, curious tone that Penelope rarely heard from him. "Thanks, Garcia."

With a final nod and a mysterious smile, he turned and left as quietly as he had arrived, leaving Penelope staring after him, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

She shrugged to herself and turned the volume back up, diving back into her work with the music as her soundtrack, her mind briefly wandering to wonder about Hotch’s sudden interest in pop culture.

"Maybe he’s getting a life outside those case files after all--and a decent taste in music..." she murmured to herself, her head bobbing to the beat as she focused back on her screens, the mystery of Aaron Hotchner adding yet another curious, albeit lighter, layer to her day.

The following week brought an air of excitement that seemed to linger around the BAU, particularly around Penelope Garcia's tech-filled lair. The atmosphere was thick with disbelief and joy as Penelope, unable to contain her excitement, recounted a recent encounter with Hotch to JJ and Emily.

"You guys will not believe this!" Penelope beamed, her hands animatedly waving the prized items in the air. "Hotch--our Hotch--just handed me these!" She fluttered a pair of tickets like they were sacred texts.

JJ and Emily leaned in, eyes widening as they caught sight of the tickets. "No way! How did he even get those?" Emily exclaimed, her skepticism matched by her amusement.

Rossi, overhearing the commotion as he walked in, joined the group, a curious smile playing on his lips. "What's all this about?" he inquired, peering over to see what had stirred up such excitement.

Penelope held up the tickets with a theatrical flair. "These, my dear Rossi, are tickets to see none other than--" she paused for dramatic effect, "--the popstar we were just talking about last week! And not just any tickets--Hotch got them for me!"

Rossi's eyebrows shot up, a clear sign of his surprise. "Those tickets? I heard on the news this morning that they were impossible to get. The show sold out in minutes," he commented, adding to the bewildering nature of Hotch’s gift.

Before Penelope could respond, Derek Morgan swooped in, his hand snatching the tickets from her grip to inspect them himself. "Let me see these," he said, his voice a mix of suspicion and awe. Flipping them over, his eyes scanned the details, and a slow whistle escaped him. "Ladies, these aren’t just any tickets. These are front row. Front. Row. Do you realize how good these seats are?"

JJ laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is insane. Hotch pulled some serious strings. Front row to see a popstar like her? That's not just pulling strings; that's a whole concert orchestra at work!"

Penelope snatched the tickets back from Derek, clutching them close to her chest. "I knew Hotch had a secret side to him!" she exclaimed, her previous theories about his recent behavior seeming to find validation. "This is like, the best thing ever. I can't even--"

Emily leaned in, her voice low and playful. "You know what this means, right? You're going to have to get all dolled up, Penelope. Front row means you’ll probably be on camera!"

Penelope’s grin widened at the thought, already planning her outfit in her mind. "Oh, trust me, I will be camera-ready. Our stoic unit chief might just make a fangirl out of me yet!"

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the excitement bubble over. "Well, I'll say this," he mused, "it's nice to see Hotch letting his hair down a bit, even if it’s in his own unique way."

“Whoever he’s seeing’s got some serious connections,” Derek shared. 

The group nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch's recent behavior adding an unexpected but welcome layer of camaraderie and speculation among the team. As they dispersed back to their tasks, the buzz of excitement remained, the BAU team finding a rare moment of lightness amidst their usual, graver responsibilities.

At the concert, JJ and Penelope stood in the front row, the pulsing lights and thumping beats of the music wrapping around them like a vibrant cloak. You were the popstar that Penelope (and the rest of society) could not get enough of.

Your performance had a cascade of dazzling visuals and soul-stirring vocals that had the crowd roaring with excitement. Each song seemed to resonate perfectly with the audience, a mix of chart-topping hits and beloved classics that had JJ and Penelope singing along, lost in the nostalgia and the thrill of the night.

They felt like they were sixteen all over again.

As the concert progressed, the atmosphere turned electric, each track bringing a new wave of cheers from the audience. You moved with a grace and confidence that commanded attention, your presence on stage both mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. The night was already unforgettable, but it was about to become even more so.

Before launching into the next song, you paused, your gaze sweeping over the crowd with a playful yet intense look.

"This next song," you began, your voice ringing clear over the din, "is a very special one. It’s for the grumpy man who changed my life. He's from here, and guess what? He's here tonight. Supporting me, despite having the most important job out there."

The crowd erupted in cheers, curiosity piqued by your heartfelt introduction. You continued, your eyes twinkling with emotion and mischief, "And because he’s here, supporting me, I want to give a shout-out to someone very special in the audience tonight--Penelope!"

Penelope’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with shock, and JJ turned to her with an expression that mirrored her disbelief. "How does she know your name?" JJ whispered her voice a mix of excitement and confusion.

Before Penelope could formulate a response, you launched into a flirty, romantic ballad, your voice soaring as beautifully as the lyrics. As yo sang, you glanced toward the VIP section, and with a sly wink and a blown kiss, you acknowledged someone standing there..

Driven by curiosity and an overwhelming sense of wonder, JJ and Penelope followed your gaze. There, among a few shadowed figures in the VIP section, stood none other than Aaron Hotchner. His usually impassive face wore a soft, almost shy smile as he acknowledged the kiss with a slight nod, his eyes locked on the stage.

He was dressed in a black button-up and jeans--a far contrast to his usual attire. He looked relaxed…happy. Maybe not singing along to the words, but he sure knew them. He inspired them. 

The realization hit Penelope like a wave. "Oh my god, JJ, Hotch is her boyfriend? Hotch is the grumpy man who changed her life?" she gasped, her voice a mix of shock and delight.

JJ laughed, shaking her head in amazement. "Looks like we've been underestimating our boss's ability to keep secrets," she said, her eyes twinkling with humor and newfound respect for their unit chief.

As the song ended and you took a graceful bow, the crowd’s applause was deafening. JJ and Penelope clapped and cheered along, their hearts full of joy and their minds buzzing with the night’s revelations.

The concert continued, but for JJ and Penelope, the evening had transformed into something even more magical--a story they would share and reminisce about for years to come, the night their grumpy boss was revealedto be the secret boyfriend of a popstar, right before their very eyes.

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Life's Sweet Bells

A COD Farm Sim AU with omegaverse splashed in!

Poly 141 x F!OC. Previous. Villagers

Pt. 2: Paloma Meets Price

Johnny and Kyle lied to him. 

Horrid little pack mates, he should have known something was up when the pair were unusually quiet during their weekly friday night at the inn. 

John knew their newcomer had just arrived a few days prior, not that he had a lot of hope for the poor sod. People have come and gone to town before. Young bucks who thought they could hack it with the sweat off their backs. Most came because of the allure of the peaceful countryside, but quickly left when they realized luxury was a limited resource. 

John had sat at the bar, whiskey in hand, something deep in his soul easing at seeing the townsfolk all inside, laughing and happy. They were a pseudo-pack of sorts, not everyone bonded, not like him and his boys, but he remained protective of them all the same. It was sheer fortune that he'd built the pack that he had, beautiful, strong and resourceful as they were. It was an absolute dream to have them all together, safe in their little village. He wasn't particularly keen on adding another, though he supposed it was inevitable. 

The town's economy had been struggling since the earthquake cut down on business. Perhaps a new face wouldn't hurt…

Johnny and Kyle’s laughter pulled his attention, the pair playing some sort of roleplaying game at a nearby table, the party bantering after defeating a band of monsters. 

“The goblin floats lazily down the river, slowly…like, comically slow, and you know it won't be long before the rest of his hoard realizes he's missing.” Alex narrates, looking amused, (and just a little tired) after overseeing yet another harrowing adventure, all while the boys giggle and high five.

“I LOOK AROUND” Soap blurts, bypassing any structure of the game. 

“You don't wanna take a short rest first?” Alex retorts sharply.

“I did not lose any health” Farah cuts in, arms crossed, pointedly looking at Soap.

“Rest mate, you've only got 1 health point left.” Gaz adds.

“Ach fine, I rest. Then, I look around.” Soap laments.

Alex smirks, “We're resting so you can start fresh next week, but before we go” he leans in, mischief in his eyes. “You see a stranger, you know anything about strangers, Mactavish? Garrick?” He looks between them suspiciously. 

And this is what really gets John's attention, makes him turn away from the bar inconspicuously. Even Farah turns, schmoozing in close to Alex to fix the pair of men with an additional suspicious gaze, eyes narrowed.

The alphas share a look, a silent conversation happening between the long time friends before they're both shrugging in unison. 

Both Alex and Farah throw up their hands.

“Come off it boys, we know you've talked to the newbie.” Laswell calls from behind the bar, her wife Madeline grinning over her shoulder. 

John feels just a bit sour. They didn't tell him, they'd met the newcomer. 

The pair hem and haw.

“They seem alright” Gaz says, noncommittal.

Soap nods, “Real busy, they've got their hands full out there, for sure.”

“That's a whole lotta nothing.” comes a gruff voice, Ghost perched near the fireplace. 

John finally cuts in, his own god damned curiosity too much to bear. He feels a bit like a teenager, wants to know every detail, what they're like, what was their name, what did they look like, designation, etc. He reels it back instead.

“Are they going to stick around is what I want to know.” he grouses, taking another swig. If he were watching a little more closely, he would have seen the playful glint in both of his alpha's eyes. 

“Can't be sure.” Gaz replies, hiding a smile behind his drink.

“Maybe you should give ‘em a chat, Cap, see for yerself” Soap chimes in. “Not sure you two will jive though” he adds, staring absently into his mug. 

John wasn’t a tough man to get along with, just selective.

He huffs through his nose, finishes off his drink. It would have to wait. He'd already promised to help Nik with a few “projects” in the capital. Maybe the newcomer would be gone by the time he came back, that'd be one less problem to worry about.

~

He’d arrived back late monday evening, leaving Nik to unload his stock while he settled into a desk in the museum reception area, working through his portion of the collections paperwork and local donations. Desk work was never his favorite, but the peace and quiet of the old place, accompanied by the soft patter of rain against the large pane windows would be plenty to lull his weary mind to rest when the time came. He looked forward to crawling into one of his pack’s beds after a long weekend away. 

He’d settled in nicely, cigar in hand and hot evening tea, when the heavy wooden doors of the museum open, wind gently rustling the pages on his desk. He doesn’t look up right away, it’s probably Simon, coming by to check in. 

What he was not expecting however, was the soft round thing that tiptoes inside. Wet squeaky boots on marble as she blinks at him. She's a mess, dirt smeared on her sweet round cheeks and worn denim overalls, the soaked fabric hugging her soft tummy and wide hips, silvery hair tied back in messy twin braids dripping onto the floor. 

He stares. 

She stares. 

She’s the first to recover,  flashing him a sheepish smile, eyes bright behind big round glasses. His heart stutters just a bit. 

This was the newcomer?

“Hello! I’m sorry, I must have missed you earlier.” she chimes, seemingly unphased by her own disheveled appearance as she slips closer, slinging a heavy backpack from her shoulders with a soft grunt, the pickaxe at her back clanging noisily to the floor with the action.  

Who gave her a bloody pickaxe??

She slings out a hand and introduces herself, wrenching it back quickly to smear the remnant dirt from her hands onto her overalls before extending it again with an apologetic smile. 

It’s not often that John Price is dumbfounded, but it was certainly not every day that a big soft girl walks into his museum, especially not one like this. He didn't even realize he’d stood up, snuffling at the air like an old hound, trying to get just a whiff of the pretty thing. She’s an omega, he can feel it in his bones, something just on the edge of his biological periphery that makes his teeth ache. Her scent is nearly nonexistent under the earth and rain, but it’s there, sugary sweet like blueberry pancakes.  Something ugly preens in the back of his mind. 

Ah yes, this one is staying. 

“Are you alright, Captain?” 

He’s swift, snapping out of his thoughts to clamp his hand in hers. She’s cold to the touch, hands damp and freezing. Unacceptable. 

“Are you alright sweetheart? What have you been doing?” He rounds the desk, keeping her hand aloft, thumb rubbing at her skin in a weak attempt to warm her up as he looks her over. 

She had better not be doing what he thinks she was doing.

“Oh I’m peachy! Just doing a bit of mining, time just got away from me is all.” she laughs, nerves apparent in her soft english lilt. 

She was.

He bites back an exasperated huff, brows furrowed in displeasure as he scans her from head to toe. She goes still, nervous, like a pup as he comes closer. She’s filthy, but doesn’t appear to be injured, just…clumsy, the ass of her overalls covered in mud from where she’d apparently fallen, several times, but otherwise okay. His brain slows down just a little. 

“You were in the mines?” he asks incredulously, her hand slipping from his as she jumps back to life. “And who’d you learn ‘Captain’ from?”

“Yes!” she chirps, she’s beyond excited, dropping to her knees to root through her backpack, the sound of stones and tin clanking around in its confines. ”Soap and Gaz told me all about you, said you were always pretty busy, but I’d catch you eventually.” She pauses her rummaging, whipping back around to point at him ”They speak very highly of you by the way.” she tells him, as if the words were an important message she was tasked to bring to him. 

Of course. Conniving little shits, both of them. Trying to sell him false goods. He would have both of their heads later for hogging this pretty girl all to themselves. Telling lies. Though part of him was proud, they knew him all too well, at least well enough to know he had a big soft spot for pretty birds.

All he can do is hum, watching her with no small amount of confusion as she continues to root. It appears she’s never met a stranger, bulldozing over any social formalities unwittingly.  

“I’ve read mining used to be a big deal here, a great source of revenue.” she rambles giddily, “I didn’t think I would have much luck but look!” She yanks out an armful of dirt covered items, and bless her, Price doesn’t have the heart to tell her most of it is shit. Common coal and some exceptionally glittery rocks, but more importantly something else catches his eye, green and chitinous. 

“Is that a bloody bug?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah! Alex told me you all were looking to make some new collections, and I noticed you didn’t have much in the way of entomology. I thought it’d be a fun thing to start!”

Fun.

Price has spent years of his life, smashing these flying demons deep in the mines, and here she was catching them. As odd as she is, the pure passion in her eyes is incredibly endearing. It was already a miracle that the goofy thing had climbed down there on her own, come out with a bag full of rocks and a bug, all without being crushed, stung or bitten. 

He’d known the girl for a whole 10 minutes and already had his hands full.

He would need to have a serious talk with her about going down there again, but in the meantime he had no intention of crushing her spirit. She reminds him of Soap, brilliant and bright as a star, and it brings a fond smile to his lips. 

“Quite industrious aren’t you Miss Hadley? Looks like you’ve found quite a bit, I’ll take a better look at these in the morning” he explains, carefully placing her prizes in a bin for later, “I’ll have your payment for the donations sent later in the day. For now, It’s far too late for pretty girls to be out this late, you're soaked to the bone.” 

She blinks a bit, as if it just occurred to her, “Oh yes, didn’t think it would rain quite this hard all day.” she laughs a bit awkwardly, recollecting her soggy backpack. “I didn’t mean to disturb your evening.” she grabs her pickaxe (the one he was half tempted to hide and hope she forgot) before angling herself toward the door. 

John has to actively bite back the harsh no bubbling up his throat at her escape attempt. 

He’s never felt like such a muppet in his life. He needs to feed her, warm her up, but he has nothing here, just some granola bars and breakfast tea, no blanket, she was already shivering. 

He could bully her into his home if he really wanted to, it’s just down the road...strip her down and dry her off.

She’s halfway to the door when he breaks out of his thoughts, damn near sputtering like a drowning man. “Wait.” 

And much to his pleasure she stops on a dime, yielding easily to his voice. “Not going out there by yourself, absolutely not.” he huffs, stomping over to her, snagging his jacket from the rack beside the door and slinging it over her shoulders. He was being too much, he knows, opening the door for her and covering her with his umbrella as he ushers her to her home, taking the brunt of the rain just to keep her covered. He couldn’t help it, it was instinct, need. 

“This is very kind of you” Paloma tells him, voice grown timid, but she stops short, cold little hands giving his forearm a tug, “but we can at least share.” She presses in close, the pair now walking shoulder to shoulder in the cool summer rain. He has to clear his throat to stop the rumbling purr deep in his chest. 

“Too sweet for your own good” he murmurs, biting back a grin when she doesn’t hear him the first time. He changes tactics smoothly. 

“I said, what on earth were you doing down there?”

“Oh, just trying to give everything a go. I won’t know I like something until I give it a try right? Plus everyone here seems to need a hand, I’m just happy to help.” she smiles up at him. And John really thinks this sweet girl may stick around, not because he wants her too, but because she wants too, with a heart too big to fail. He decides he’ll help her with anything if she just asks. Hell, even if she doesn’t.

They chat idly the rest of the way, boots squelching on the muddy dirt path. He learns she’s quite the reader , and crafter, and a myriad of other things, having shoved her fingers into every pie she’s come across. He tells her about his past as a foreman, his stint in the military, his work with the museum since the earthquake, and it tickles him with how intently she listens, nodding along to his every word.  

Before he knows they’ve arrived, the soft glow of her porch lantern guiding them in, and part of him wishes she lived just a little farther away, if only to steal some extra time. 

He guides her up the steps, his hand in hers, standing dutifully as she fishes out her key and steps inside. Safe.

He’s only a little flustered when she shrugs off his jacket and swings it back over his shoulders, his height causing her to fumble a little. Shrouding him in petrichor and blueberry sugar.

“Right,” he coughs “You get warmed up, and lock this behind you, didn’t walk you home for something else to get you.” He taps at her door seriously. 

“Yes sir.” she chimes, and his stomach swoops. Fingers itching to dig into warm soft skin, he was being tested, he was certain of it. 

“John, lovie, call me John.”

“Okay John, be safe” she smiles, waving goodbye with a shy wiggle of her fingers. He has to make himself turn away,  waits to hear the click of her lock before trotting down her steps. 

John purrs the whole way home. 

[satorusugurugurl]

Brat tamer and daddy kink with geto, gojo and toji please 🙏🔥

Brat Tamer’s

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro, FAB!R

Word count: 4,982 (I got really into it)

Warning: unprotected sex, degrading, overstimulating, public sex, dirty talk!

A/N: I literally loved this, I got so excited. I stayed up late editing it when I need to be up in four and a half hours! Please enjoy!

Summary: JJK men and how they fuck the bratty attitude out of you! 🥵

Gojo Satoru:

Rage boiled in the pit of your stomach as your leg bounced. The foul mood you were in wasn't because you woke up early on a Saturday or due to you sleeping on the couch. No, your sour mood is sponsored by your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru.

The bastard had been the biggest twat tease the previous day. All Friday long, he sent you the most provocative, smutty, thirsty texts the world had ever seen. Sexting, who the hell even sexted anymore?

Gojo Satoru did.

SATORU: damn, I'm thirsty. 😩

YOU: Buy a drink then? 🤨

SATORU: but they don't have what I want. .🥲

YOU: How could the vending machine be out of Cola?

SATORU: I don't want soda. I want that dripping pussy in my face. I wanna lap my tongue up and down, swirl it around your clit, and fuck you with my tongue until you cum on my mouth. Then I'll do it again, this time flattening my tongue over your cunt, encouraging you to use me how you want. In whatever way, Y/N, 🥵 I need you to sit on my face. I promise you the second you get home; I'm going to live between your thighs for the night. 😏❤️🌶

The conversation progressively got hotter and hotter until you found yourself clenching your thighs together to stop the insistent throbbing. God, it was so erotic. You loved reading his nasty words and were disappointed when they abruptly stopped. Maybe he’d taken pity on you, giving you a break to enjoy your dinner with Shoko and Utahime.

You were stripping the second you got home, kicking your shoes off, tossing your keys in the bowl by the door. If you knew how to teleport like Gojo, you would have been in the bedroom instantly. Alas, you had to run for it, sliding inside, hoping to find a naked Satoru with a rose between his teeth. Instead, you saw him snoring, drooling all over his pillow.

He had teased you all day, ruined a perfectly good pair of panties, to end up passing out on you!?

Sure, he was the strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer of the modern age, and he needed to get all the rest he could. It didn’t help that he had been on a long mission two days beforehand. But he could have rested after he fulfilled his nasty promises. But no, the bastard fell asleep on you.

“Morning Sweetheart.” Gojo walked into the kitchen with a yawn, oblivious to your rage. “Man, I slept like a baby.” He glanced around, searching for you, as he scratched at his stomach.

“Aw,” he stiffened at the tone of your voice, “did my old man sleep well?” Gojo watched as you lifted your coffee cup to your mouth, taking a long sip and glaring daggers at him.

“The fuck did you just call me?”

“Old man.” You snapped before taking another sip.

Gojo scoffed, grabbing his mug from the cabinet and filling it with hot coffee, fixing it with five cubes of sugar and sweet vanilla creamer. “Why the hell are you calling me that for?” There was only a two-year difference between you two. So he assumed that you woke up in a bad mood or you were being a brat at eight in the morning.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Sarcasm laced your voice, “I assumed you turned into an old man last night. Seeing that you passed out at nine o'clock last night. After you were a twat tease all day! You know, promising to eat my pussy in Ultra 4K HD.”

Oooh, that's why you were so pissed off.

“First off, relax; I was so tired when I got home. I just intended to nap, but it turned into an eleven-hour nap. And, you know I'll make it up to you, princess.”

“No, you won't.”

Your blatant defiance had Satoru choking on his coffee. He sputtered and hacked into his elbow as tears flooded his eyes. The entire time he was fighting for his life, you watched with a smirk. Knowing you were the cause of that reaction.

“I'm sorry, I must have misheard you.” Gojo took a deep breath, clearing his throat. “It sounded a lot like you just told me no. As in, you don’t want me to eat your pussy.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pressing your breasts together. “You heard correctly.”

“Ha,” Satoru shook his head, leaning forward as he rested both hands on the kitchen counter. “Good one brat. You and I both know you’re lying. Keep it up. See what happens.”

“What.” You said, tilting your head. Assuming you hadn't heard him, Satoru opened his mouth to repeat himself. “Ever.” You finish with a smirk.

Now, that was annoying. Satoru’s blood was boiling as he realized you woke up and chose violence because he didn’t eat you out last night. Annoying as it was, he’d be lying if he said your attitude had his cock twitching inside his pajamas. Two could play in this game. He'd give you one last chance to behave before he taught you a lesson you would never forget.

“You’re going to listen to me carefully, baby.” You whined as he grabbed your face in his right hand, squeezing your cheeks gently, forcing a pout to form. “You’re going to be a good girl, and stop being a brat.”

Releasing his grip on your face, Satoru grinned, pleased with the pout that remained despite not forcing It. Now that you had been properly scolded, he could enjoy his coffee without choking to death. But before he could sip the sugary goodness, your pot twisted into a sly grin.

“Make me.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened before gently placing his cup down. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry as he walked around the counter, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He dragged you across the floor, which was easy, thanks to his curse technique. He whistled a cheerful tune as he entered your bedroom.

Which is where you had been for the last hour.

“S-Satoru!” You cried out, eyes wide as your back arched off the bed.

Satoru pushed your trembling thighs further apart. His tongue gently flickered at your abused and throbbing clit as his fingers curled inside of you. His cerulean eyes never once broke contact with your face in the hour he's been nestled between your thighs. Satoru was a man on a mission. A specific mission that was going to involve you crying from overstimulation by the time he was through with you.

“Too much!” You squeaked as his lips sealed around your clit, sucking on it. “Satoru! Satoru, please!”

He ignored you, promptly sucking harder as his fingers fastened their pace, curling against the spongy spot inside you. With a strangled yelp, you threw your head back, trembling hands reaching for his soft, snowy locks. You yanked him back. Away from your pussy with all the strength you could muster.

Satoru could have easily swatted you away, but he decided to be nice, allowing you to pull him away from your dripping sex. God, he looked as feral as you felt. Eyes narrowed, mouth dripping with your slick, pale cheeks flushed red.

“Oh, sorry, did you say something?” His talented tongue darted out, cleaning your slick off his lips. “Sorry, I’m an ‘old man,’ so I didn't hear you.” His tongue went back to work, swirling slowly around your clit as if it were his favorite candy.

“Mnnngh!” you yelled, gripping his hair tighter, “Toru!” He still paid you no mind, focused solely on making you cum for the sixth, seventh, eighth time? You'd lost count after four. “Toru!” Your legs trembled under his relentless attack. Satoru hummed, knowing you were close. He sped his fingers up, tongue flicking madly over your clit.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” You cried out as you squirted all over his face. But the man didn't stop; he kept the same speed going. Determined to make you cry from immense pleasure.

It was getting too much to handle. Spots were forming in your vision as you convulsed under him. There might be only one way to stop this never-ending orgasm loop. One that would most likely result in you getting fucked into the mattress, but at least that way, he would leave your poor clit alone for the time being.

“D-Daddy,” you whimpered, “Daddy, please.”

Just like you knew he would, Satoru lifted his head like a puppy being called for dinner. The damn bastard had a shit-eating grin plastered over his cum drenched face. “Oh, you called baby girl?~” His head rested against your thigh while slowly keeping his fingers moving inside of you.

“Nngh, oh fuck, I’m sorry, Daddy, please, I need your cock.” You cried out in relief, relaxing as he sat up, leaning back on the heels of his feet. “Daddy~ daddy, please.”

You knew he couldn’t take much more of this of the endless foreplay himself. His cock was straining against his pajama pants, a small wet spot forming against the gray fabric. Indeed, he was done punishing you. It had been a long, amazing, but still exhausting hour.

“Please, what? Use your words, beautiful.”

“Please fuck me.”

Tilting his head, Gojo rubbed at his slick chin, pondering thought. “Fuck you? You want your sweet daddy to fuck you?”

His hands rubbed up and down your thighs, making you jerk slightly. “Yes! Please, Daddy, I'm so sorry.” Satoru hummed in satisfaction before leaning down and kissing you deeply. You moaned, and he used the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. The taste of you flooded your mouth. He always kissed you like this before he fucked you.

Finally, the torture could stop.

He hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting your hips to rest over his own. But much to your horror, he pulled back, smirking as he lifted you high and higher until your legs were over his shoulders, and his lips trailed over your inner thighs with nips and hickeys.

“T-Toru! Wait, let's be reasonable!” A pitiful squeak escaped you as he dragged you to the edge of the bed. “I-I said I was sorry, Daddy!!” Terror plastered over your face as he dropped to his knees on the ground.

“Baby girl, I am being reasonable.” He pulled your hips closer to his mouth, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. “You were so hurt and distraught over me breaking my promise last night. So I have to make it up to you. I plan to fuck you all day.” Blue eyes glimmered, half-lidded, as he stuck his tongue out, dragging it slowly over your entrance. “With my tongue.”

Before you could utter another rushed, heartfelt apology, Satoru’s mouth sealed over you again, sucking you like you were his favorite treat. At this rate, he was going to suck the soul out of your body.

Geto Suguru:

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hummed out before stopping right in front of Suguru. You made it a point to bend over, your ass brushing against his crotch. “My shoe is untied!”

Suguru cleared his throat as you pretended to tie your non-existent shoelace. “No worries.” His throat was dry, and you looked over your shoulder to find him staring directly at your ass. This was going exactly as planned!

Last weekend Gojo had asked Suguru if he was a tit or ass man. Usually, your sweet boyfriend would say something along the lines that you as a whole, was his type. But between the shots of sake and the three beers he'd chugged, he eyes you carefully in thought. His dark gaze moved from your chest before he leaned back in his chair, trying to examine the ass you were sitting on. The whole scene had your friends whistling and clapping at the way he practically undressed you in front of them.

“Ya’ know, I was a tit guy in high school.” Suguru downed another shot before he draped his arm around you, pulling you firmly against his side. “But since Y/N and I started dating, I can confidently say that I am an ass man, Satoru.”

This discovery had your curiosity peaked. So there was only one logical thing for you to do. You needed to put his statement to the test. For science, of course. Nothing more than science.

Your first experiment was to see how he responded to you flashing him. When he had just gotten home from the gym, you welcomed him back by lifting your shirt showing him your breasts. In all of his sweaty glory, Suguru didn’t miss a beat. He dropped his gym bag, tossed you over his shoulder, and carried you to the bedroom, where he got his cool-down workout in.

That was the typical when he saw your boobs. Suguru loved your breasts. He loved to caress them, hold them, and bury his face in them after a long and stressful mission. In all of your previous relationships, no one enjoyed playing with your breasts as much attention as Suguru did. So to hear him say, with his own words, was a bit far-fetched.

Thus began your experiment to find out what he really was!

Throughout the day, you purposely dropped your pen, bent down to pick up your keys, and, of course, leaned over his desk in order to retrieve a paper that had mistakenly fallen into the ground. Each and every time you glanced back to look at him, to see an almost distant expression on his face as his eyes were glued to your ass.

His staring was hardly a reaction compared to you flashing him. Either he had been drunk when he answered Satoru, or you weren't putting in the effort needed to truly test him. He left you no choice but to step your antics up.

“Y/L/N-Sensei!” Itadori beamed as you carried a stack of papers into the classroom. “Do you need help with that?”

“No, I got it, Itadori!” You neatly placed the papers on the desk, grinning at Suguru, who was talking to Megumi about his stance in the earlier training. “I do need to borrow Geto, though. Sorry, guys.”

Hearing you call his name, your boyfriend turned, a soft smile gracing his gorgeous face. “Okay, class is dismissed for today. I'll see you all tomorrow.” The three first years left the opposite way that you led Suguru down.

“I needed to grab the box of paper talisman paper out of storage.” You opened the door to the storage closet. “But I can reach it.”

“So you're just using me for my height?” Suguru gasped dramatically. “Has our whole relationship been a lie, Y/N?”

With a giggle from you, Suguru stepped inside, reaching for the box on the highest shelf. Now was the perfect chance to see how he reacted to your ass. You stepped inside the closet with him. Your darling boyfriend is oblivious to your mischievous intentions.

“Oh!” Suguru turned to watch as you shut the door. He didn't get to ask what you were doing when he suddenly stiffened as you squeezed between him and the shelves. “I was wondering where they kept the extra pens!” You stood on your tiptoes, rubbing your ass on his crotch. Suguru hissed, and you could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

“Sorry! I just!” Standing on your tiptoes, you barely reached for the box of pens before dropping down. You repeated this action several times, practically dry-humping against him while attempting to maintain your innocence. “They're just so far away!”

When you reached your fingers again, grazing the box, Suguru’s hand clamped down on your wrist, squeezing it. His labored breathing hit the back of your neck as his cock throbbed hard against your ass. The air inside the closet was suddenly ten times hotter and stuffier than it had been seconds ago.

“I fuckin’ knew it.” Suguru snarled, his lips pressing against the back of your neck as her hands grabbed the hem of your pants. “You’ve been bending over in front of me all day on purpose. Are you seriously trying to test me?”

You were suddenly pushed against the shelves with one of his hands as the other yanked your pants and panties down, pooling them at your knees. “What are you talking about?” You attempt to come off as confused, but hearing the zip to his uniform being dragged down had you shivering.

“Oh, don't play dumb. You were testing to see if I was an ass man or not, weren't you?” He ends his question with a smack against your ass. “That's why you kept bending over, you know, like a brat.”

“Still don't know what you mean.” Your act is slipping up as you hear Suguru spit behind you. A second later, his hot, spit-slicked cock grinds perfectly over your ass. “Oh shit~”

Sugar kneads at your ass, thrusting his cock between your cheeks. “You can keep playing the innocent act, but we both know you're a terrible liar, Y/N.” He adjusts himself, allowing his cock to move further down, his tip teasing the entrance to your pussy.

“I am? Man, what gave me away?”

“Your shoes don't have laces.” With a sudden and sharp thrust, Suguru slams inside of you, his hand clamping down over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure. “Silly little brat, you wanted this as much as me, Your pussy is soaking wet for me, and I didn't even get a chance to touch your pretty cunt.”

You scream into his palm as he starts thrusting into you, the shelves shaking, dust flying around the two of you. As boxes and papers fall to the ground, Suguru picks up his pace. Your pussy is so tight and wet. It feels so good to be buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck~ fuck your pussy is the best,” Suguru whispers slowly in your ear, his dark hair falling over your shoulder as he leans fully against you. “This is like my own personal treat for being good and not fucking you in front of the entire school.”

His words, the tone of his gravely voice, and the mere force he was fucking you at. It had you hurdling to the edge so fast you felt like a teenager again. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you convulsed around his cock, cumming so hard you thought you might pass out. And Geto, he wasn't better off. You'd been rubbing up his cock off and on all day, the ultimate edging.

His teeth dug into your shoulder to silence his moans and whimpers as his cock throbbed inside of you, filling you with his seed. You breathed heavily against his palm, gasping for air as he dropped his hand from your mouth to your chin. He turned you to face him, kissing you ever so gently as he slowly pulled out of you.

“We need to go home.” With shaking hands, you tried to pull your clothes back up. “I’m going to fuck you for each time you ground that sweet ass against me today.” Suguru kindly decided to help you with your pants, pulling them up and fastening them secure. “Hope you're ready for a long night, Princess.” His hand slapped your ass as you both headed out of the closet. “Cause that ass is mine.”

In conclusion, you discovered the truth: Geto Suguru was, in fact, an ass man.

Toji Fushiguro:

“We’re having dinner with a potential client tonight. Make sure you wear something nice. Not like your usual t-shirts and shit.”

His words rang through your ears repeatedly as you eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd show him something nice. The asshole dared to tell you to wear something nice?! Mr. Sweatpants himself? What a dickhead!

After he took off for work, you made it your life's sole mission to get dolled up to a t. If he wanted to impress your potential client, you'd make their fucking jaws drop. You'd be so hot; they'd take the two of you on as clients just in the hopes of seeing you in all your fuckin’ glory!

“I assure you, my partner and I can immediately get the job done for you,” Toji said, sipping on the red wine his potential client so graciously bought.

“You both came highly recommended; I look for— my God.” the elderly man perked up. “What a stunning woman.”

Toji scoffed into his glass; he didn't care to look at other women. You were the only one he had eyes for. You were the only woman that mattered. He did, however, pay attention to the older man’s eyes. They were following whatever poor woman was walking about. Watching the man in his eighties undress them with their beady eyes was a sickening sight.

“Oh!” The man in front of Toji perked up, straightening his tie. “She's coming this way, Fushiguro.”

The sound of high- heels clicking against the tile didn't have Toji intrigued in the slightest. But the smell of your perfume and the sudden silence had him whirling around in his chair. “So sorry to keep you both waiting.” You stood there behind Toji’s chair.

Your makeup was done, and your Y/H/C hair was styled expertly. Toji had seen you dolled up countless times before. That wasn’t new. What was new was the super short red dress you were wearing. It clung to your curves, leaving hardly anything to the imagination. Your breasts bounced, threatening to pop out as you bowed at the elderly client. When you straightened your back, Toji felt the vein in his forehead throb as your dress, which went up to your mid-thigh, rode up slightly, showing off more of your smooth skin.

While you looked absolutely delicious, this was not what he had meant when he told you to dress nice.

“Please don't apologize, darling.” The soon-to-be-dead client motioned to the chair next to Toji. “Please sit. What would you like to drink?”

“Wine, please.” Toji gritted his teeth, eyes constantly darting from you to the client.

Throughout appetizers and drinks, you made sure to lean over, stretch, and emphasize your body in every way you could. In doing so, you caught the attention of passing patrons, the disgusting man in front of you, and your boyfriend, who was fuming with anger. Okay, yes, this was partially his fault. He put himself directly in this situation. Next time, he’ll know better than to tell you what to do.

When they brought out the main dishes, the elderly man licked his lips, holding a fork out to you, noodles expertly wrapped around it. “Have you ever tried the pesto pasta here? It's my absolute favorite. Give it a try, Y/N!~” Fighting back a grimace of disgust, you put on a smile. You leaned over the table, opening your mouth wide as you took the food directly off his fork.

While the act of being fed by a perverted old man was disgusting, the delicious flavor of chicken, pesto, and garlic made up for it. It was so decadent that you moaned as you swallowed the bite. Hearing a sound that was for his ears only made Toji stand up, his chair falling back from the speed of his actions. His face focused on you before he grabbed your wrist.

“Y/N! Pesto has pine nuts in it!” There was a tone of faux worry in his voice.

“Huh?” Cocking an eyebrow, you were about to tell him you knew that. When he scooped you up into his arms.

“You idiot! You're allergic to nuts!”

The clanking of silverware caught your attention, and your eyes peered back at the table. The pervert looks pale, terror painting his face. “I'm so sorry! Do I need to call an ambulance?”

“No! I have an Epi-pen in my car. I’m sorry, but we need to leave right now.”

“N-No! Please don’t; we can reschedule for another day.”

The old man watched as Toji hurriedly carried you out of the dining area of the restaurant, not once hearing the “Not a damn chance we’re doing this again.” From your very pissed-off boyfriend.

Toji suddenly turned and carried you down a hall before B-lining it into a family restroom. He plopped you down on the counter before locking the door behind him. His worried expression melted away, replaced with a darkened, more devious, rageful stare. The sheer power of his stare had you tugging your dress down in an attempt to cover your thighs. Something you had refused to do throughout the dinner.

“Oh no, you don't,” Toji’s large hand smacked yours away, “you’re the one that dressed like a slut, you might as well embrace the look.”

A shuddering breath escaped you as his fingers slipped under the skin-tight fabric, pushing it up to rest above your hips. The whole time his fingers grazed over your skin, you could see the anger in his eyes turning from a simmer to a boil in real-time. You were suddenly regretting your choices.

“Toji, we’re in a family restroom. Someone could hear us.”

“Oh? Suddenly, you're taking note of people noticing you? You didn't seem to mind when that dirtbag was eyefucking you all night. You left very little to his imagination.”

“Well, you told me to wear something nice, so I did.”

“The only place this slutty outfit is good for is in my bed.” He forced your thighs open wide, his fingers curling under the lacey hem of your panties.

His fingers were warm and oh so close to your throbbing sex. “Toji, they’ll hear us.” You scolded in a hushed tone, eyes darting towards the door leading out to a full restaurant of people.

Toji hummed and ripped the flimsy fabric of your underwear in half, causing you to gasp. “Then I guess you’ll be needing a gag.” Grabbing the back of your neck, Toji slammed his lips against yours in a searing kiss.

God, he tasted like rich wine as his tongue slid into your mouth. You followed his lead, massing your tongue against his as he worked at his belt and pants. He deepened the kiss before pulling you closer to the edge of the counter, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your dripping sex, coating your slick all over his shaft.

“Toji~” You hummed happily as the tip of his cock popped into you. Your hum slowly grew into a whine that worked its way up the back of your throat.

“I don't think so.” Your boyfriend pushed further into you. Using his free hand, Toji squeezed your cheeks in his hand, forcing your mouth open. “You were just saying someone could hear us.” He shoved your ruined panties in your mouth. “So shut the fuck up slut.”

Tasting yourself, combined with his cock slowly thrusting into you, made you cry out around your panties. Your hands shot up, gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. The sting of pain urged Toji on as he slammed into you harder.

“I know I told you to dress nice, but I take that back.” His fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer, pushing his dick firmly against your cervix. “You flaunting your body like that tonight made me realize I don't want anyone lookin’ at ya’ like that” His thrusts turned harder and fast, his cock pressing into your cervix over and over again. “You only dress like that for me, Y/N; you’re my slut.”

Rolling your eyes back, you mumbled some unintelligible response back to him. Hearing the lack of words coming from you had Toji smirking against your neck as he nipped and sucked at your sensitive skin. Bite marks and hickey’s littered your skin, marking you as his. If you even dared to wear something so revealing again, anyone who would dare look at you would know you were taken.

Taken and thoroughly fucked.

Being marked, having Toji fuck you into place. God, it was too much, way too much for you to handle. Your pussy started throbbing, clamping around his cock, as drool seeped out of the corner of your mouth. Wincing at the sting from your nails, Toji released himself from your neck. Tilting his head to the side, he chuckled.

“Awww~ is my little slut going to cum?~” Nodding your head, Toji licked his lips. “You gonna cum all over Daddy’s fat cock slut?” Another nod, your hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Then what the fuck are ya waitin’ for?” Snarling next to your ear Toji fucked you as hard as he could.

That sent you over the edge. You screamed around your panties cumming all over his perfect fat cock. “That’s it, that's a good fucking girl~ cum on my fat cock.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “Cum on my cock, cum on my cock. That's it~! Gonna fill you up, take it, take it slut.” Toji’s head tilted back as he roared, pumping rope after rope of hot cum into you.

He remained like that, holding you on the counter, buried inside of you. Once his cock softened, Toji pulled out of you. You dug your panties out of your mouth. You were holding the spit-coated fabric in your hands. You looked between them and your boyfriend, who was stuffing his dick back into his pants.

“Who knew me dressing up like this would end with mind-blowing sex?”

“End?” Your panties were snatched out of your palm. “Baby girl, we're just getting started.” he wadded up the fabric before sliding his hand between your legs. “So I'm just gonna—” you gasped as he pushed your panties inside your pussy, “keep you plugged up until I get you home.”

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[youngsadlesbian]

BORN FOR THIS

pairing: natasha romanoff x bucky barnes x daughter!reader

summary: growing up as the daughter of natasha romanoff and bucky barnes, you prove your brilliance and earn your place among the avengers.

a/n: it's been a long time since i wrote anything for buckynat x daughter!reader so here it is.

word count: 914

warnings: just fluffy <3

Being the daughter of two of the world’s most dangerous spies came with a lot of expectations. People assumed you’d be a perfect soldier, a flawless fighter, or maybe an expert in covert operations. But you were none of those things—at least, not in the way they expected.

Your mind was your greatest weapon.

It started with a Hydra firewall.

You were twelve, sitting in the Avengers Tower’s common room, absently hacking into a secure system while eating a bowl of cereal.

Steve, Bucky, and Natasha were sitting nearby, discussing an upcoming mission. They were stuck on a major issue: Hydra had encrypted files that could expose their newest operation, and no one—not even Tony—had been able to break through their security.

"FRIDAY, any progress?" Natasha asked, crossing her arms.

"Negative. Decryption process remains incomplete. Estimated time: seventy-two hours."

Bucky groaned. "We don’t have seventy-two hours."

You looked up from your tablet. "What are you trying to get into?"

"Classified," Natasha said automatically.

You rolled your eyes and turned the screen toward them. "You mean this?"

There was a long silence.

Steve nearly choked on his coffee. "How the hell—?"

Bucky snatched the tablet from your hands. Sure enough, the encrypted Hydra files were right there, already decrypted.

Natasha blinked. "You cracked the encryption?"

You shrugged. "It wasn’t that hard. They used a basic 256-bit cipher. Amateurs."

Tony chose that exact moment to walk in. "Hey, who’s been messing with my—" He froze as he saw what was on the screen. His face went through at least four different emotions before he turned to you, eyes wide. "Wait. Wait, wait. You cracked the Hydra encryption? The one I spent a week trying to get through?"

You nodded. "Yeah, but to be fair, they used a weak key. If you tweak the algorithm to—"

"Okay, nope. I refuse to be shown up by a twelve-year-old," Tony declared. "This is unacceptable."

Steve just stared at you. "How long did it take you?"

You tilted your head, thinking. "Maybe… ten minutes?"

Natasha looked genuinely impressed.

Bucky looked horrified.

Tony groaned. "I hate this. I hate this."

At fourteen, you had another brilliant (but completely ridiculous) idea.

The mission was in Madripoor. The Avengers needed to infiltrate a high-tech facility, but security was tight. No one could get past the biometric scanners without raising alarms.

The team spent hours brainstorming. Then you walked in, half-asleep, holding a bag of chips.

"Why don’t you just trigger a system-wide false alarm first?" you suggested between bites.

Everyone turned to look at you.

You chewed slowly. "I mean… if the whole system freaks out first, no one will notice when you actually break in. Hydra will think it's just another system malfunction."

Silence.

Bruce adjusted his glasses. "Technically, that could work."

"That’s insane," Clint muttered.

"It’s also brilliant," Natasha said.

Tony groaned. "Okay, fine. Let's try the kid’s dumb idea."

It worked.

And no one ever called your ideas dumb again.

By the time you were fifteen, it was clear that you weren’t just "the kid of two super-spies." You were an asset.

So when a mission required an undercover agent who could blend in as an ordinary teenager, you were the perfect candidate.

Natasha was against it.

"No. Absolutely not."

"Nat," Bucky sighed, "she’s the best option."

"She’s fifteen," Natasha snapped.

"She’s also better at this than half the team," Tony added. "I mean, let’s be real, she’s already saved our asses multiple times."

You sat there, watching as your parents debated your fate.

Finally, you crossed your arms. "You do realize I’m in the room, right?"

Natasha sighed, rubbing her temples. "You’re not ready for this."

You met her gaze, unwavering. "Yes, I am."

She studied you for a long moment. Then, finally, she nodded. "Fine. But if anything happens to you—"

Bucky cut in. "—we’ll burn the whole damn place down."

That was the only reassurance they needed.

The mission went too well.

You slipped in undetected, blending in as just another teenager at an elite school. You befriended the target’s daughter, gained access to restricted areas, and managed to get crucial intel without setting off a single alarm.

Everything was fine—until it wasn’t.

The second Hydra caught wind of an intruder, all hell broke loose.

Gunfire. Alarms. Agents swarming the building.

You could hear Natasha’s panicked voice over the comms. "Where is she?"

You didn’t have time to respond. You were already running.

A Hydra agent lunged at you, but you were faster. You ducked, disarmed him, and took him down before he could blink.

Natasha and Bucky reached you just in time to see it.

You turned to them, slightly out of breath. "Hi."

Natasha’s eyes flickered to the unconscious agent. "Did you—?"

"Yeah."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Bucky grinned. "That’s my girl."

Natasha sighed. "God help us all."

But you caught the tiny smirk she tried to hide.

After the mission, things changed.

No one treated you like a kid anymore. Not even Tony.

You had a seat at the table. You had a voice in the room. You were an Avenger.

And as you sat there, watching Natasha and Bucky exchange knowing glances, you realized—

This was where you were meant to be.

[angie-likes-to-art]

Fic Recs (Stranger Things Edition V)

All fics are fem!reader

Marvel One Two Three Harry Potter One Two Three Stranger Things One Two Three Four Specific Characters Tangerine Masterlist

New in Town by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Request: hey!! could you write a story where a new girl at school decides to nervously go up to Eddie during lunch? She gently taps his shoulder to get his attention to ask him something. ahh I don’t know you can decide what she wants to ask him! lol meanwhile Eddie is just “🤨…😍”

Horror Movies & Chill by @eiightysixbaby (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: eddie tries to scare you and gets more than he bargained for.

Satanic Panic by @hand-candy-writing

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “you encounter eddie munson in the cafeteria during his satanic panic rant, but quickly distract him from his tirade.”

Happy Hours (Series, Ongoing) by @bangaveragewhitewine (18+ Only)

Pairing: Bouncer!Eddie Munson x Bartender!Reader Summary: When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break. A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

Simmer (Series, Completed) by @upsidedownwithsteve

Pairing: Linecook!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “welcome to hawkins’ number one diner! where the staff don’t wanna be there and the linecook is a grumpy metal head who likes to argue with his boss and ignore everyone else. but the new waitress can’t hack the rude customers and the regulars can be a little… much.” 

Pretty Eyes by @galaxy-siren

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Request: hii!! ok so you know that scene when Eddie is first introduced in Season 4 episode 1 where he’s exclaiming out things about conforming to society, and he’s jumping off the table and whatnot?? i was wondering if you could do something where Eddie ends up bumping into a girl while he’s moving around so dramatically, and instead of calling him a freak like he expects, she shyly apologizes for running into him when it was clearly his fault. He’d be the type to be so confused and yet go “Guys I’m in love-”😂

Bruises by @lonelysatellites (18+ Only)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Working the bar in an underground bare knuckle boxing club, reader meets the new fighter on the block, a wiry, charming metal head.”

Don’t Call Me ‘Baby’ (Series, Completed) by @katyswrites (18+ Only)

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Steve Harrington x Reader Summary: “This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would both tell yourselves, later on. It had started with a bet. You were a cocktail waitress, studying abroad in Rome and working yourself to death to keep yourself afloat. Steve Harrington was a business executive for one of the biggest tech companies in the world, ten years your senior, and earnest enough that it intrigued you. But, there was only one problem - he doesn’t do relationships. Not now, perhaps not ever. So, a deal is struck - something mutually beneficial. No attachments, and you get to be his perpetual mistress, while he makes sure you want for nothing. But, what happens when the agreement becomes more than what either of you bargained for?”

Same Old Song and Dance (Mini-Series, Completed) by @m0llygunn (18+ Only)

Pairing: Bully!Eddie Munson x Reader Summary: “Eddie’s teased and taunted you for the last decade of your life but you’re not innocent. It’s always been a game, a dance if you will.”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 93 (Finally Coming Clean)

When Conrad arrived home on Friday night, Ash was in the city. He took a shower, joining Heather in the kitchen while she cooked dinner and talked about Ray Pierce, the Landgraabs' driver who she'd met that afternoon. "He seems as nice as Ash says. It's just annoying I had to find out about him from my son and not his father."

Conrad didn't say much; he couldn't exactly chastise Malcolm for keeping secrets from her. Lavender was awake and Conrad practiced sitting with her for a while, putting her to bed as the scent of chicken stir-fry wafted up the stairs.

He went to the kitchen, smiling at the setup of food and candles at their dining table. "You didn't have to do all this." He kissed her cheek. "What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is, I love you. I just wanted to take away a little stress from your day."

He frowned, and his hands went limp around her waist. "Heather, I need to tell you something. The case I told you about that's been driving me crazy...I backed out of it yesterday morning."

She looked at him, confused. "Maybe that's for the best. But it's not like you to give up on a case."

"I had to let this one go. It was kind of...it wasn't an official case. I've been looking for someone off the books for close to six months."

"Why? Is it someone you know?"

He nodded, and she followed him to sit across from him at the kitchen table. "There's so much about my past I haven't been able to tell you. I should have said something long before I moved in, but I'd convinced myself it was totally in my past and would never be an issue."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember that woman who was looking in our windows when you were pregnant? I wasn't sure at the time, but I got the cameras as a precaution, regardless. She started texting me after Lavender was born."

"Who is she?"

He took a deep breath. "She's my ex."

"Conrad, what does she want?"

"Me. She only wants me. But she can't have me so she's..."

"Is she dangerous? Is this the college girlfriend who cheated on you and broke your heart?"

"Same one. Her name's Ximena Bonilla and she's a little...erratic. But she might not be as dangerous as the people she associates with."

"Who does she associate with?"

"Selvadoradian cartels. She's a drug dealer."

The shock and confusion on Heather's face turned to anger. "How do you know her?"

"I met her when I was in college. She said she was a student and convinced me for almost a year. She was raising her kid brother, Rafa, by herself and escaped being trafficked by the cartel by running drugs for them instead. When I found out the students were her customers, I should have broken up with her. But I was in love and I wanted to keep her safe. I didn't leave. I got deep enough that I met some of her bosses and knew about some of their operations, but she cheated on me and it broke the spell. I finally left her, but one of their ops went bad and one of the guys they picked up gave my name to San Myshuno PD."

"Conrad, you don't have a criminal record. I looked you up after we started dating."

"You hacked the police database, too?"

"No...I did a public records search after River made a joke about a hacker and a criminal."

"To this day, I don't know how my father did it. My file's locked under clearance even I don't have, same as anyone else on the force with a past, but Landgraab Security's always had contacts at San Myshuno PD. He pulled enough strings to wipe my record clean and transfer me into the academy. I had to give them a couple names in exchange - street dealers, local guys. No one that would really upset the cartel. But the force had to look like they were managing crime in their city, and that's the only reason I became a cop and not a complete screw up."

"Is the cartel after you? Or just your ex? Did you give them her name?"

"I never gave them her name. I couldn't, because I didn't know what would happen to her little brother if I did. She tried to get me back after I left, but I knew it could never work out. When Gord was still a puppy, she cornered us outside my apartment to get my attention when I brought home another girl. I got a restraining order, but when it expired and she stayed away, I thought she was finally gone for good."

"So why is she back?"

"She asked for my help to find her brother."

"Is her brother even missing?"

"He is missing. He's wanted by San Myshuno PD. I wanted to help him before he was arrested and sent to prison."

"But you were looking for him under the table, as a favour to your ex who sounds obsessed with you? No wonder Gord hasn't left us alone since Lavender was born. He always knew what was going on with you, didn't he? And you never thought to mention any of this to me?"

"Heather, I wanted to, I-"

"Were you going to help this guy avoid prison? How? Criminal connections?"

"Nothing like that. I was hoping to be able to talk to him, encourage him to go back to finish high school, find a solid job, and maybe convince a judge to go easier on him. I really thought I'd be able to find him in a few weeks, maybe a couple months, and we could all move on again. But uncovering leads has been impossible, and his sister's not a reliable source. I'd even started a file on Ximena because I thought once I found her brother I could finally get around to what I should have done more than once and turned her in. But I could see what searching for Rafa and keeping it from everyone was doing to me, so I finally told her yesterday I was done."

"You've been in regular contact with your ex and didn't tell me? And not because there's something between you but because she's dangerous? Conrad, that's worse."

He nodded. "I know it is. I know how not saying anything makes it look, but I'm so ashamed of that chapter of my life. My bad decisions killed my father. After he got me into the academy, his heart got weak. Two heart attacks, and he died within months. As long as I live, I'll know the stress I put him under was the cause."

She was quiet, nervously playing with her food. Neither was hungry anymore. "You should have told me this."

"I'm so sorry. The longer I kept it from you, the more I feared telling you too late to deserve understanding. I love you so much, and I never wanted to do anything to lose you."

They were interrupted when Conrad's phone started beeping. This time, it was work, but he read the dispatch and his stomach dropped.

The phone shook in his trembling hand and Heather stood. "Conrad, what is it?"

"There's a dead body at the pier. I've got to go back to work." A bone-chilling shiver ran down his spine. His heartbeat quickened, as though he knew what he'd find when he reached Fisherman's Wharf. "I'm so sorry, Heather. I want to keep talking about this, but I can't."

She nodded. "I understand."

A pit formed in his stomach. "Will you do me a favour? I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but will you leave for your parents' place in Henford tonight? Don't wait until morning. I'll probably be working all night and I'd rather know you're safe outside of town."

She uncrossed her arms in shock. "Do you think your ex is involved with the body at the pier? Is that why you want us to leave? Lavender's sound asleep already, but you want me to wake her and take her an hour on the Simmerloop when you invested in those security cameras?"

"Heather, please," he begged, reaching for her hand across the table. "If she's anywhere near Brindleton Bay right now, I can't focus on work if I'm worried about the two of you."

Heather looked at him with sad eyes as their fingers brushed against the wood-top table. Betrayal was written all over her face, but she nodded toward the uneaten food and pulled her hand away. "I'll pack this up in the fridge and then I'll take her. Do you think you'll make it to Henford at all this weekend?"

"Heather, I don't know. I hope so. But I can pack this up before I go. Thank you for cooking. I'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it."

"Me too," she snipped. "Good luck. Be careful."

Heather couldn't look at him and Conrad wouldn't press her. As much as he wanted to run after her and beg forgiveness, a deadly crime scene called him to the pier. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Heather doing a semi-romantic dinner setup wasn't a flirty gesture, but she has the caregiver personality type. I can't remember if this is from a mod or an EA feature, to tell you the truth. I think it's a mod. Conrad has the jester personality type, which I think suits him, too. Conrad is really responsible and respectful which suit his proper trait (which was learned after younger mistakes), but jesters trend toward mischief/"foolish games" in addition to being jokesters. EDIT: It's WonderfulWhims/WickedWhims that adds this!!

WCIF Poses Used? Dinner Table Talks by @herecirmsims. I don't even mind the clipping because their kitchen table and chairs didn't quite fit the dimensions, because the poses gave me the expressions I wanted. I tried way too long to try to get the teleporters in the middle of the chairs, but I got close enough for me. Just ignore the fact that their chests were in their stir-fry for 90 per cent of that convo! Thank you so much for creating and sharing! 🙏

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 17

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: It's friday again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Once Leslie leaves, you lock yourself away again. Your father's taken to the cold shoulder over his previous aggression. You don't mind, it assures you of a tenuous peace. So long as you don't draw his attention, you're okay.

Your anxiety remains piqued. Not only by your father's stewing ire but the thought of what looms both behind and ahead of you. With all that happened at work, you have little hope of tomorrow being better. There is also the question of Mr. Laufeyson's surprise... you can't even begin to guess what he has in mind.

Another test, no doubt. Like today. You're certain you failed that one too. You took his kindness and showed yourself to be ungrateful. You questioned him when you should have just accepted it with a smile on your face.

It is not your place to worry about his intentions, as he has made it clear, you are not on the same level. He is your boss and you do what he says. So you will do that and nothing more.

Is that his voice in your head?

You sneak out for a shower but it doesn't do much to calms your nerves. You spend another night tossing and turn, kept awake by the television set a top volume and the dissonance of your anxiety. Even with the extra hours granted, you find yourself painfully awake at the same splitting hour.

You get up to make your tea. Your father's snoring on the couch at the TV continues to blare. You don't disturb either as you put on the kettle and ready a mug. You rub your eyes and yawn. Leslie will be here soon. You should wake him and get breakfast going. It will lighten her load.

When you have your cup steaming, you stay at the counter and sip tentatively, weighing your next steps. You leave your father as he is and return to your room, dressing and cleaning up before you descend again. You have your phone in hand, almost hoping a notification will pop up. Maybe Mr. Laufeyson will change his mind and you can be off before you have to face your dad. The phone remains lifeless. 

You sigh and shut off the television, hoping the sudden silence might rouse him. He continues to snort loudly. You bite down on your cheeks as your skin buzzes and itches. He's not a morning person. 

The memories of him exploding to consciousness in a furor of hollers and kicks keep you from shaking him. You back away as the doorbell rings and does the job for you, your father grumbling as you go to answer it.

Leslie enters with her usual blustering brightness. She greets your father and stops short, hands on her hips as she tuts.

"Now what is the meaning of this?" She huffs, "Charles, you can't sleep down here."

"I'm not," he sits up and hacks into his hand before sliding the oxygen tube back into place. "You woke me up."

"What's gotten into you?" She accuses, "I told you yesterday I'm not here for your attitude. You're not some teenager, you're a grown man."

"Bah, I need coffee," he snarls.

"You need a cold shower," she retorts as she goes around the couch and snatches up the pack of smoke on the cushion beside him, "and a swat on the snout. What're you doing with these things?" She pauses and looks at you, "he can't be having these in the house."

"I don't... know where they came from," your murmur.

"Don't matter, if you see them, you toss them," she reproaches, "this is a team effort, alright? Now yesterday, this place was a right mess. I'm here to help, not play maid."

"I'm sorry, I..." you snap your mouth shut. You did clean up, as best you could before work, but you'll have to do better.

"Not her fault she's useless," your father quips.

"Charles," Leslie warns as she points at him.

"Sorry, hon," he puts his hands up, "was only a joke."

"Not a very nice one," he rebukes.

"I know, I know," he chortles.

"So don't apologise to me," she flicks her finger towards you.

Your father stops his laughing and quiets. He crosses his arms and slumps his shoulders as you stare at the back of his head. You wait as Leslie tilts her head dangerous and cross her arms.

"Charles," she girds.

"Don't worry about it," you croak, "it's fine. I'll... I'm going in late so I'll get breakfast started."

"Oh yeah, she don't gotta go polish that man's silver early," your dad growls.

"Charles," Leslie snips again, "I mean it, be nice."

"I am nice, hon, I'm being funny."

"You are not," she insists.

"Come on, Les," he lowers his voice as you pad towards the kitchen, "I'll be good, alright? Don't give me that look."

She sighs but you don't look back, "alright, no more smokes."

"I'm tellin' ya, honey," he speaks so softly you barely recognise his voice, "I didn't touch 'em. Found them in the couch but I didn't smoke any. Don't be mad at me."

You shake your head and try to roll the tension out of your shoulders. She's been here just over a week and he talks like he's known her forever. He's actually nice to her. He cares about what she thinks, what she feels. But you, his own daughter, you get the blame for it all. You're the reason he hates himself and his life. Maybe if you'd never come along, he'd still have the woman he loved. 

🧹

You set off just after eleven, the bus due not long after. As you come down the overgrown walk with its cracked pavement and uneven tilt, your eyes are drawn up by the snap of a car door. Footfalls scuff on the pavement as you look over the curb to the shiny car parked there. It's an unusual sight in the rundown neighbourhood.

Mr. Laufeyson proudly steps up as the window on the passenger's side rolls down. A pair of similarly green eyes peer out as she takes in the sight of the yellow duplex. You want to run and hide. You can't imagine either of them ever had to dirty themselves in a place like this.

"Mr. Laufeyson," you rush towards him, "I--- you said noon."

You pull the phone out and check the time. He puts his hand on the roof of the car calmly as you stop a few feet away. He chuckles, amused by your panic.

"It's so quaint," Frigga remarks as she remains firmly in the front seat, "dear, how are you?"

"Um, I'm well, Frigga," you answer with a tight gulp.

"Good, good, you look well," she praises, "a bit tired. Tell me he's not overworking you."

"Mother," Laufeyson shoots a glance in her direction.

"Er, it's fine," you clutch the strap of your bag, "I... did I do something?"

"No, no," Frigga waves off your suspicion, "I simply insisted my son bring me to see you while I'm in town."

"Oh, I was just on my way..." you look at Laufeyson confused as he gives an expression you can't quite read. He's expecting something but you're not sure what.

"We have lots to do so no sense in waiting around," she trills.

"Oh?" Your lips part. "Did something-- is the house okay?"

"The house is just fine. That old place only needs a little light, but see if my own son hears me," he rambles, "Loki, don't be rude, get the door."

He flinches and drags his hand away from the top of the car, "yes, mother."

He moves to open the back door, gallantly opening it for you. You feel like you've been dropped into an alternate universe. This can't be happening.

"Get in," he says. 

You blink at him and he tilts his head, gesturing to the back seat. You obey with some reluctance and sit the large leather bag beside you. You slowly pull the seat belt down and click it into place. Laufeyson strides around the bumper as you peek in the mirror at Frigga's silvering curls.

"Right, then," Laufeyson opens the driver's door and lowers himself into the seat, "there we are."

"How are you feeling, darling?" Frigga's eyes meet yours in the rearview before you quickly look away, "are you very hungry or can you wait a bit longer for lunch?"

"I... Lunch? I'm okay," you assure. You can't figure this out. "Thank you."

The car whirs and rolls into motion. You're uneasy as you watch the street pass by. If he takes a left, he can get back to the main roads and-- no, he's going right?

"Mm, alright, the boutique first then," she orders her son, "I'm wondering if perhaps they could squeeze us in at the spa. It has been a while since I had some clay done. Oh, and my nails are ragged."

You try to connect the dots as your brows stitch together. Is this his surprise? His mother? Why are you there? You should be figuring out what's going on with the squeaky hinge on the closet. 

"I can't wait to see the new season's colours," Frigga carries on as you tune her out, lost in the riddle of her presence and your own.

Surely, you're being brought along as some sort of valet. Of course, Laufeyson would offer you to carry her bags as she splurges on her pretty dresses. And she is always dressed so nicely whenever you see her. And make up, her lips are a pleasant shade of rose. She would likely spend even more on shoes, don't forget the silver sparkling at her throat and the gemstone dangling there... 

Right, you see. Another lesson. He wants you to remember what you don't have. After your slip-up yesterday, he has to remind you of where you belong; squashed under his sole.

"Oh, is Eliana still at the salon, I should stop in and say hello," Frigga's voice once more punctures your distraction. "She was always so sweet."

"Mother, I... don't know about that. Maybe a different salon."

"You are such a pessimist, what are the odds we run into her?" 

"Don't even tempt fate," he warns.

"No one said you were invited, hm? You said you had business down at Heimdall's."

"You are stubborn, mother," Laufeyson tisks.

"It's where you got it from, dear," she taunts, "so, darling," she peeks in the mirror again and you shy away, "how about it, you and I? It will be so nice. I haven't gotten a day out in so long."

"Oh, you haven't? Should I ask father about that?"

"Let's not mention your father," she rebuffs him smoothly and his shoulders slump.

"Um, well, that's nice, but..." you protest meekly

"It's my treat," she insists, "please. You're doing me a favour."

"I really don't know--"

"I don't mind," Laufeyson interjects, "and it won't affect your hours."

"I did soften him up a bit," she purrs.

"Mother," he hisses again.

"Oh you are so serious," she chides, "she needs this more than I do, I'm sure, with a stickler like you."

He twitches but says nothing. You sense he wants to say it again, 'mother', in the tone of please be quiet. It would be laughable if you weren't so perplexed by it all. Maybe it is a dream. Maybe you didn't wake up and you're oversleeping your alarm, having stress dreams about what will happen when you wake to reality.

"He's a good little chauffeur," she pats his arm playfully, "so he will drop us at the salon, won't you, dearest son?"

He grips the wheel tight and you see his knuckles turn almost translucent, "yes, mother, whatever you wish."

🧹

Mr, Laufeyson drives through the downtown area. You don't come there much, or at all. You passed through on your way to the hospital and on occasion to sort out a billing issue with the bank, but there wasn't much for you there. Along the west side, the nicer shops reside and several buildings with businesses you could never figure out.

Laufeyson pulls up into a marked spot beside a meter. As you stare out, still puzzled by it all. Everything's going so fast and you just want it to slow down. You look at your boss and feel a pang in your chest; how many times had he mentioned your clothes? This isn't a favour, this is him saying you're not good enough.

"Come, come," Frigga gets out and opens your door for you, "let's not drag our feet."

You undo the seat belt and go to grab your large leather bag. As you get out, Frigga catches you by the shoulders. "You won't need this," she takes the bag and reaches past you to put it back in the car, "only your pretty self."

"Oh, uh, sure, okay," you look again at Laufeyson but you're not sure why. He isn't going to help you. He's plunged you into this situation. He only arches a brow in response.

"Just going to give you a nice refresh," Frigga pulls on your elbow and shuts the door, tugging you onto the pavement. "You would do wonderful with some highlights."

You stumble along beside her, overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. She directs you to the shining transparent windows of a salon, a sign overhead with a curled iron bar across the top. You peek over your shoulder again as Mr. Laufeyson lingers another moment before steering out into traffic.

The door chirps as it opens and you're ushered inside to the sound of jazzy pop covers. You can't choose where to focus as the sleek shelves of colourful bottle behind the pure white counter refracts the lights of a spindly chandelier. Velvet chairs are arranged around a table in the little waiting area as stylists gab with clients in chairs.

"Frigga," a woman with platinum locks flutters over with the clacking of heels, "oh, it's been so long."

"Eliana! It has, look at you," they embrace and part, Frigga playing with the tall woman's pin-straight tresses, "what happened to the black?"

"Got a few grays and a divorce," the woman, Eliana you presume, cackles, "and who's this?"

They look at you as you're ready to fade into the black and white stripes on the wall.

"Oh, a friend, she's lovely," Frigga comes back and takes your hand, drawing you forward, "she just needs a little touch-up."

"Oh, she's a natural, she won't need much at all," the stylist approaches you, "I know just the woman; Luciana," she claps and looks back, "I have someone to fill in that cancellation.”

[agapi-kalyptei]

crowdstrike: hot take 1

It's too early in the news cycle to say anything truly smart, but to sum things up, what I know so far:

there was no "hack" or cyberattack or data breach*

a private IT security company called CrowdStrike released a faulty update which practically disabled all its desktop (?) Windows workstations (laptops too, but maybe not servers? not sure)

the cause has been found and a fix is on the way

as it stands now, the fix will have to be manually applied (in person) to each affected workstation (this could mean in practice maybe 5, maybe 30 minutes of work for each affected computer - the number is also unknown, but it very well could be tens (or hundreds) of thousands of computers across thousands of large, multinational enterprises.

(The fix can be applied manually if you have a-bit-more-than-basic knowledge of computers)

Things that are currently safe to assume:

this wasn't a fault of any single individual, but of a process (workflow on the side of CrowdStrike) that didn't detect the fault ahead of time

[most likely] it's not that someone was incompetent or stupid - but we don't have the root cause analysis available yet

deploying bugfixes on Fridays is a bad idea

*The obligatory warning part:

Just because this wasn't a cyberattack, doesn't mean there won't be related security breaches of all kinds in all industries. The chaos, panic, uncertainty, and very soon also exhaustion of people dealing with the fallout of the issue will create a perfect storm for actually malicious actors that will try to exploit any possible vulnerability in companies' vulnerable state.

The analysis / speculation part:

globalization bad lol

OK, more seriously: I have not even heard about CrowdStrike until today, and I'm not a security engineer. I'm a developer with mild to moderate (outsider) understanding of vulnerabilities.

OK some background / basics first

It's very common for companies of any size to have more to protect their digital assets than just an antivirus and a firewall. Large companies (Delta Airlines) can afford to pay other large companies to provide security solutions for them (CrowdStrike). These days, to avoid bad software of any kind - malware - you need a complex suite of software that protects you from all sides:

desktop/laptop: antivirus, firewall, secure DNS, avoiding insecure WiFi, browser exploits, system patches, email scanner, phishing on web, phishing via email, physical access, USB thumb drive, motherboard/BIOS/UEFI vulnerabilities or built-in exploits made by the manufacturers of the Chinese government,

person/phone: phishing via SMS, phishing via calls, iOS/Android OS vulnerabilities, mobile app vulnerabilities, mobile apps that masquerade as useful while harvesting your data, vulnerabilities in things like WhatsApp where a glitched JPG pictures sent to you can expose your data, ...

servers: mostly same as above except they servers have to often deal with millions of requests per day, most of them valid, and at least some of the servers need to be connected to the internet 24/7

CDN and cloud services: fundamentally, an average big company today relies on dozens or hundreds of other big internet companies (AWS / Azure / GCP / Apple / Google) which in turn rely on hundreds of other companies to outsource a lot of tasks (like harvesting your data and sending you marketing emails)

infrastructure - routers... modems... your Alexa is spying on you... i'm tired... etc.

Anyway if you drifted to sleep in the previous paragraph I don't blame you. I'm genuinely just scratching the surface. Cybersecurity is insanely important today, and it's insanely complex too.

The reason why the incident blue-screened the machines is that to avoid malware, a lot of the anti-malware has to run in a more "privileged" mode, meaning they exist very close to the "heart" of Windows (or any other OS - the heart is called kernel). However, on this level, a bug can crash the system a lot more easily. And it did.

OK OK the actual hot lukewarm take finally

I didn't expect to get hit by y2k bug in the middle of 2024, but here we are.

As bad as it was, this only affected a small portion of all computers - in the ballpark of ~0.001% or even 0.0001% - but already caused disruptions to flights and hospitals in a big chunk of the world.

maybe-FAQ:

"Oh but this would be avoided if they weren't using the Crowdwhatever software" - true. However, this kind of mistake is not exclusive to them.

"Haha windows sucks, Linux 4eva" - I mean. Yeah? But no. Conceptually there is nothing that would prevent this from happening on Linux, if only there was anyone actually using it (on desktop).

"But really, Windows should have a better protection" - yes? no? This is a very difficult, technical question, because for kernel drivers the whole point is that 1. you trust them, and 2. they need the super-powerful-unrestrained access to work as intended, and 3. you _need_ them to be blazing fast, so babysitting them from the Windows perspective is counterproductive. It's a technical issue with no easy answers on this level.

"But there was some issue with Microsoft stuff too." - yes, but it's unknown if they are related, and at this point I have not seen any solid info about it.

The point is, in a deeply interconnected world, it's sort of a miracle that this isn't happening more often, and on a wider scale. Both bugfixes and new bugs are deployed every minute to some software somewhere in the world, because we're all in a rush to make money and pay rent and meet deadlines.

Increased monoculture in IT is bad for everyone. Whichever OS, whichever brand, whichever security solution provider - the more popular they are, the better visible their mistakes will be.

As much as it would be fun to make jokes like "CrowdStroke", I'm not even particularly mad at the company (at this point - that might change when I hear about their QA process). And no, I'm not even mad at Windows, as explained in the pseudo-FAQ.

The ultimate hot take? If at all possible, don't rely on anything related to computers. Technical problems are caused by technical solutions.

[kredenakrejn]

Last update: 18d.02m.25y.

Welcome on my blog :D

Plz note, if I am not answering your ask for a longer while, I plan to draw something to that, and just don't have time to do it now

Pfp was made by my lovely friend Skellavelva! And the banner was made by also Me!

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✦ About me

My name here is Kredena or Krejn I love nicknames too :3

Multifandom artist Mostly UTMV stuff for now But I also like: RotTMNT, LMK, HelluvaVerse, MLP, Tadc and many more!

B-Day on 13 of April

She / They

I am Aroace (Aromatic / Asexual) Maybe a bit Pan and Demiromatic too..? 'Am not sure

I will die / bite for my friends (they are like a family to me.)

Sometimes I use "we" but I am just one person here It's just sometimes more comfortable to write like that

I sometimes have problems with knowing what emotions I feel at the moment I sometimes over-react just to be silly Or sometimes I just feel empty

I work at McDonalds (save me) on Monday, Wednesday, Friday and every other Sunday

No problem with saying stuff about myself, just someone needs to ask

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If I say "I love you" I don't say it in a romantic way I only say it in a platonic way. So don't you dare think 'am flirting with you.

DO NOT USE OR REPOST MY ART ANYWHERE You may reblog it (some people think it's the same as reposting, but it's not.) You may use it if it was a gift for you You may use it if you asked me before that (but you NEED to credit me.)

If something is not clear about me Plz just ask I get sad when people just assume stuff about me

Plz do not use any images, gifs, or videos with smol children, when you talk with me They just disgust me, I can't help it

If you gonna hurt even one of my friends, you gonna have a bad time buddy.

Plz, don't add ship tags when there is none of 'em on the original post

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If you like what I create, plz consider supporting me on Ko-Fi! I will be making doddles for every donation :3

Before donating, plz note:

I have work, so I will not be able to draw the same secound you send me a donation, but I will draw something for you! (Just tell me what, in my DM's on Ko-Fi)

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Yes I am kredenadark Some may be curious why I will no longer be active there Well, my old discord account got hacked, tho I was able to buy my data back (*cries*) I did not feel safe on my old accounts, so I decided to make new ones where I could, or change every emile and password I had I tried to recover form my old blog whatever I could, for some time, I will be just rebloging my old stuff, so I will not lose it too Becouse of the fact that before re-instalating my windows, I saved my files on the pendrive the wrong way, all the stuff from my laptop is gone, so all my WIP's are lost, sorry, I was not able to show them to you

[motherofdogs1010]

Need to Know II (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: When she was ready to get back out on the dating scene after dumping a certain Winter Soldier, Y/N was a woman ready to get back out there. She just never expected to find herself in a relationship with a certain nerdy spider. Warnings: Reader is basically Penelope Garcia, toxic ex! Bucky, fratboy!Peter, older woman/younger man, age gap relationship, mentions of ageism, eventual pregnancy Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part I

Present Day

To say that Y/N ever thought she'd be in a relationship with someone younger than her, she would be lying if she said she did. She had never expected to find herself in a relationship where she was the older one, but here she was, laying on her Cal King bed as she watched Peter type away on his computer, writing a paper for one of his robotics classes.

Peter let out a frustrated groan before closing his laptop and falling down beside her, Y/N looked at him with a amused look on his face.

"This professor makes me regret going to college", Peter groaned, Y/N chuckled.

"You're just overthinking yourself", Y/N said as she scratched his head. "You'll do great, remember, it's your last year."

"Between school and being Spider-man, sometimes I feel burnt out", Peter said.

"You'll do great", Y/N repeated as Peter practically purred at the head scratches. “Once you’re done, you’ll be able to work with Tony like he promised and you won’t be so stressed out juggling everything.”

"How did you even become a technical analyst for the Avengers anyways? It's kinda random because you popped up out of nowhere."

"I hacked into the government's system and got on their watchlist, which led me to eventually hacking into FRIDAY for fun one day."

Peter looked at her and she shrugged but it was the truth; hacking and such had always been her thing and eventually led to her being sought out by Tony himself after she may have hacked into his system for shits and giggles.

"Well, that explains everything", Peter said, "can you hack into my professor's computer?"

"I could, but it'd ruin the pardon Tony got me", Y/N pouted, "but for you, I'd risk it."

She leaned over to Peter and planted a kiss on his lips, and Peter chuckled at her comment.

"Alright, maybe let's not send you to federal prison", Peter joked, "but you wanna go down to Delmar's and get sandwiches?"

Y/N nodded, "I just have to shower first."

As she begun to get up from the bed, she looked at Peter and said, "Wanna come shower with me?"

"Babe, if I ever say no, take me to Bruce because there's something clearly wrong with me."

With a giggle, Peter chased her to the bathroom.

After a steamy shower session that lasted longer than it probably should have, Peter was taking a quick call from his best friend, Ned, who had been accepted and was attending MIT before they left to Delmar's. Y/N decided to wait in the kitchen, walking in to see Wanda and Vision making brownies.

"Hey guys", Y/N said as she sat down at one of the kitchen island chairs.

"Oh hey Y/N", Wanda smiled as she mixed the batter.

"Hello Y/N", Vision greeted as he watched Wanda mix the batter.

"Venturing Vision's culinary skills to baking?" Y/N asked, Vision nodded and Wanda laughed.

"Where are you off to?" Wanda teased, "Peter whisking you away somewhere?"

So far, a majority of the Avengers seemed to be alright with her relationship with Peter, ignoring the age gap between the two of them.

Well, nearly all of them...

"We're going to Delmar's", Y/N replied back.

"Oh! Bring me back a sandwich", Wanda chimed.

"Will do", Y/N said, "hey, where is everyone?"

"Steve and Sam went on another run, Nat and Clint are on a quick recon mission", Vision replied.

The sound of shrill laughter boomed into their ears and Y/N saw Wanda wince and shake her head at the noise while she was mouthing 'wow' to herself.

Y/N knew who that laughter belonged to and she couldn't help, but want to laugh at it all.

"Oh, Y/N, I didn't think you'd be here."

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N raised a brow to the person who spoke in a condescending tone.

Dot or Dottie as she heard Bucky call the blonde haired woman stood in the entrance of kitchen, popping a piece of bubblegum loudly while her phone was in her hand. If Y/N was being honest, her relationship with Bucky had been on the rocks for a while before Dot, but Dot was the final nail in the coffin to end her relationship.

And at one point, Y/N would have felt some form of bitterness towards Dot's presence, but now, she felt nothing but annoyance at the woman's persistent need to try and one up for some reason or another.

"Why wouldn't I be here? I live here", Y/N replied in a confused tone.

"I figured you'd be... rocking the cradle and all", Dot said with a smirk.

Y/N wanted to groan at the jab towards her relationship with Peter, it was Dot's biggest thing to constantly bring up.

"It's robbing the cradle", Peter interjected as he walked into the kitchen. "Not that it applies to us

Peter walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders before pressing a kiss to her temple. Y/N noticed Dot's eyes hyper-fixated on Peter as Peter greeted Wanda and Vision but Y/N knew that were Dot was, Bucky was soon following and Y/N was not in the mood for dealing with the man.

"Ready, babe?" Peter asked as Y/n saw Vision look at the brownie batter.

"Yup", Y/n said as she slid out of the chair.

"Aren't you a little too old to be wearing that?" Dot asked, Y/N frowned.

Her and Dot were the same age and Y/n wore a yellow sundress since it was humid this time of year in New York. Y/N raised a eyebrow at Dot and glanced at Wanda, who rolled her eyes at Dot's comment.

"Nope", Y/n said, looking at the dress. "But you might wanna apply that logic to yourself, Dottie. We're the same age after all."

Dot frowned as Y/n got up from her seat, feeling Peter wrap an arm around her waist as he began to led them away fro the kitchen.

Y/N looked at Peter amused as he told her about his squished sandwich theory, a smile on her face as he explained that it made the sandwich taste better. Wanda had happily taken her sandwich, running away to continue watch Modern Family in her and Vision's room.

That left her and Peter in the living room, watching Ahsoka on Disney+.

"Man, I want to buy her lightsaber", Peter whined, "it looks so cool."

"It's a nice lightsaber", she agreed with a chuckle. "Personally, I want Darth Maul's."

"That's a huge one", Peter said, "they literally have to assemble it in parts."

"But imagine how intimidating it would be", she argued.

"Now what are you two lovebirds talking about", Tony chimed as he walked in.

"Lightsabers", Peter answered with a grin.

Tony and Peter began talking about some upgrades for his suit when her phone vibrated, she grasped it from under her and saw it was a text from Bucky. She wished she could block him, but since he was a member of the Avengers, she couldn't since she was a asset for them.

Opening the text, she frowned as a slew of texts began coming in.

She rolled her eyes and put her phone away from her as she hit 'DO NOT DISTURB'. She wasn't sure why Bucky had been like this, sending texts like this but she hoped he got the message soon as Tony said he was leaving to take Pepper on a date, allowing them to go back to their show.

Y/N relaxed back into Peter's embrace, laying her head on his shoulder without a care. She felt happy, even if she hadn't expected it to be with someone younger than her as Peter kissed the top of her head before she connected their lips together.

It was their monthly Avengers get-together over at the Compound, everyone dressed in their nicest clothes as Tony held a nice fancy dinner. Y/N wore a backless cocktail dress that she had a hard time convincing Peter he could not mess with until after the party was over, although, she had a hard time keeping herself from Peter with his rolled up sleeves that showcased his arms.

Right now, they were all scattered around the room; Nat was working the bar for some reason or another.

"Hey there Tech Queen", Nat said as Y/N approached her. "Where's your other half?"

"Talking science with Strange and Tony", she shrugged with a grin. "Not sure if I trust you behind the bar, Nat. You make the drinks as strong as Asgardian liquor."

Nat laughed just as Steve walked up to them, he kissed the side of Nat's head.

"What are you two laughing about?" he asked.

"Nat's bartending", Y/N answered, Steve winced.

"Yeah, maybe let's not", Steve said, Nat laughed and waved him off.

Y/N looked around to see Carol engaged in some form of arm wrestle with Thor, Sam watching the two, Wanda was conversing with Pepper, Peter still with Strange and Tony, and Bruce and Rhodey talking.

She wasn't sure where Vision was, knowing him he was probably phasing through some walls or something.

"Here, drink this", Nat said with a grin.

"Oh no", Y/N said with a smile. "I don't trust you with making drinks. Last time I had one, I--"

"Yeah, Y/N, do tell us what happened last time you had one."

Her mood was killed, instantly as she noticed Bucky had arrived. Her face said it all as Nat frowned at the man, she noticed even Steve frowning.

"Did this conversation involve you?" Y/N sassily said with a raised brow. "I believe this was a A,B, and C conversation."

"Oh, I was just wondering if the last time Nat made you a drink, you maybe did some things that you regret… or someone.”

"No, no regrets here", Y/N said as she looked at her nails.

Bucky was beginning to look like he had sucked on a lemon by his facial expression just as she felt a pair of arms around her, looking over her shoulder to see Peter.

"Mr. Barnes", Peter cooly said.

"Parker", Bucky gritted.

Y/N saw Nat taking a amused slip of her drink.

"Dateless tonight?" Peter asked with a smirk.

"Just for tonight", Bucky grumbled.

"Huh, how... unfortunate for you", Peter said with false sympathy. "If you don't mind, well, I know you won't."

Peter gestured for them to leave a fuming Bucky and a very amused Natasha to be dealt with by Steve.

Later, Y/N wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and he pulled her closer to her; Peter began to sway them with a grin on his face as she playfully shook her head at him, a grin making its way onto her face.

"Have I told you that you're pretty?" Peter asked.

"Not today, I don't think", she teased as Peter bumped their noses.

"What kind of boyfriend am I then?" Peter teased.

She felt happy with Peter, their relationship felt easy and uncomplicated as Peter connected their lips, squeezing her body a little as he tried to bring her in closer.

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 5 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[Chapter 1] ☆ [chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5]☆ [chapter 6]☆[chapter 7]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 5/10 ☆ 2,808 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, more will be added.

Note: TW there is non-con spanking in this one - while reader is turned on, there technically isn't anything sexual happening.

“Who did you tell?”

You blinked groggily up at her, confused at what was happening.

“What?” You mumbled.

You were ripped from the bed, for half a second just impressed with how easily Kate did that. That was until you collided with the floor, letting out a cry as pain spiked through you.

She stood over you and oh. Now you understood fully how she got to this place in life. 

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been afraid earlier, because you knew now that Kate Laswell was the famous Watcher. It was just something else to actually see.

Standing above you in her grey suit, high heels on each of your head, anger clear on her face; the gun pointed down at you was not even shaking one bit. 

There was a coldness in her eyes that had been so different from when you had kidnapped her yourself. In a way it was odd to think that this was the same woman.

Horror filled you. It wasn’t that you hadn’t realised Kate was dangerous, but still, still hit differently in some way. 

Death could be mere seconds away, it was only a question of Laswell pulling the trigger. Then your body would shut down like a broken piece of technology, never to be turned on again, missing its core features. She had said it herself, hadn’t she? 

If I don’t kill you before, that is

“Who did you tell?” She repeated, voice raising a little, a strand of hair out of place. 

“I - what do you mean?” you asked, weakly raising your hands in front of the gun muzzle, as if it would do anything to stop your death, in case she chose to end you, “I haven’t told anyone about anything!”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar,” she hissed angrily, one foot kicking away your hands, “How else would somebody else know about the arrival of my shipment friday?” 

You stared up at her, in between your fingers, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “How the fuck should I know? I haven’t told anyone?”

“Oh, so they would just happen to know, huh?” she snapped, as she bent over without any problems, the muzzle of the gun suddenly pressed against your forehead, as she almost screamed , “who did you tell?!”  

“I DIDN’T TELL ANYONE,” you screamed back, barely realising you did so, “MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE  YOUR IT-SECURITY IS SHIT!”

Kate Laswell’s blue eyes stared down at you; she was barely blinking, you weren’t even sure if she was breathing. Then she rose, straightening up, gun still pointing towards your face and even though it wasn’t pressed against your skin anymore, it was like you could still feel it. As if it caressed your skin, whispering a death threat that echoed in your mind.

“If I found out that you have anything to do with this, Fae, and I mean anything, I’m killing you on sight.”

She stepped over you easily and you tipped your head to the side, watching her high heels as she went out the door, snarling about something you didn’t even bother to listen to, while putting away the gun.

The tears kept coming as you curled on your side and cried. Staying here would no doubt result in anything other than your death.

You didn’t turn as the sound of another person entering the room was heard.

“Dinnae cry, bonnie bird,” Soap comforted - or at least tried to, “She dinnae mean it, boss lady is just stressed - dinnae fash.” He squatted down next to you, giving your head a little pat, but you didn’t turn around to look at him.

“We gotta go, but I’ll get ye some new clothes first, eh?”

You nodded.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

They were gone that night. The food you were given hours ago by a staff member, was cold by now, untouched by you. You weren’t going to dare, you didn’t want to be drugged again.

You slept on the little couch in the room, not caring that you were too tall for it. The idea of waking up, with Kate Laswell who had just promised to kill you, wasn’t really a pleasant one. Not that you actually had anything to do with it, though.

You just didn’t plan to stick around and find out if Laswell was serious or not.

The next morning you didn’t eat the breakfast that the staff member gave you, despite how lovely it looked and smelled. The lass who gave it to you and picked up yesterday's dinner was nice enough to point out that it wasn’t poisoned or anything. You merely answered by asking your own question.

“When will they be back?”

“In less than an hour or so, I think. But - I believe Miss Laswell would prefer for you to eat breakfast.”

“Okay, thank you.”

The idea of getting all your meals delivered seemed so… unnecessary to you. Though your own cooking skills were limited, you at least made food yourself. 

Soap had given you a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants yesterday - your own. Which meant they had gone through your stuff and while Soap grinned as he knew you realised, you wanted to throw up at the thought. 

You looked outside the window. You just needed to get out of the house - and somehow past the fence and then it wouldn’t be far to a crowded area if you weren’t wrong. You looked down at the bushes. It wouldn’t be too bad now that you weren’t in shorts anymore - as long as you didn’t break anything.

You didn’t touch the actual food you were given - but you did touch the fancy cutlery.

With a quick movement you opened the window and located the censor - ignoring the blasting sound as you moved, using the sharp knife to pull the censor free. 

You knew they would check on you soon, so you desperately stabbed at it until you -managed to get it open, pulling the battery from it. The alarm stopped and as you closed the window, you heard people at the door. You merely sat down on the broken little censor. 

You winched at the sight of the two big men, who looked like security, but tried to look as apologetic as possible.

“- Sorry. Needed some air.”

One of them looked properly annoyed at you. “Don’t do that again!” 

The moment they left and the door locked you looked directly up at the security camera - then you flipped it off. Opening the window fully, no alarm stopping you this time, you counted towards ten but jumped at nine. In the half second you gave yourself to lay in the bushes, you realised how fucking easier everything would have been if you had just stuck to blackmailing rich cheating people - or maybe been a better kidnapper. Alas, you got up, grumbling as you looked around, moving quickly.  

Then you darted across the lawn. You had never been a runner and you weren’t wearing any shoes, but you gave absolutely no shit. 

Crawling over the fence though? Nope. You weren’t ready to experiment with those sharp points, no thanks. And squeezing through it? Not happening. What was happening was a car arriving apparently - and you hid behind one of the thick pillars near the port, out of pure panic. 

The moment it passed you, you darted out from behind it and through the port - ignoring the screeching of the tires and yelling as they spotted you just a moment later.

While you weren’t a runner, you sure weren’t going to sit around and wait to be killed either. You just turned down the way too fancy road in London and ran .

Escaped. Fleeing. Bolted. Cleared out. Booked it. All the fancy different ways of saying that your bare feet hurt as they hammered against the road, your lung stung – and you were moving faster than you had in a while.

You also very much wanted to throw up. People were staring at you as you passed - but you weren’t going to stop a stranger, no no. You just needed to hide , no need to get random civilians into this mess. Everything was dreadful enough as it was.

Hurrying through some smaller alleyways, your mind already had a tiny plan of how to escape - find a place with a lot of people. Blend in, take underground to somewhere … but you didn’t have any methods of paying. And with your build, as much as your body gave its full potential right now, jumping over wouldn’t be an option.

Fuck.

Keeping low for a while it was, then. Maybe you could borrow - either with or without the person’s permission - a phone.

Your lungs were burning, your skin already collecting a nice layer of sweat.

Fuck being out of shape. If you made it out of this whole thing, you would try to at least be able to run without feeling like you were going to die any second. 

If you managed to get out alive.

Your feet were throbbing at each step. You didn’t even want to think about what you had stepped on.

As you looked over your shoulder, you saw a behemoth of a man together with two others in the distance, trying to get to you. You darted onto a different road. Barely able to hear the sound of tourists and people buzzing in the bigger streets.

Just a little more.

The moment you hit the crowd of people you weaved in between them, desperately trying to pretend you hadn’t just been running for your life and was close to keeling over from exhaustion. As you got further into the crowd, you slowed down and soon you were walking in between people, trying to pretend you weren’t barefoot and terrified. Your lungs burned, as if embers filled them to the brim, pain shooting through your legs at each step. Salvia filled your mouth while you walked, threatening to make you throw up.

It was as if the world stilled around you as you kept following the stream of people - as if it agreed that you had been through enough. The many faces of strangers that passed barely noticed you. You melted into the current of tourism, letting yourself become nobody. A person that passed you on the street while you were on vacation, someone whose face would never be remembered.

Free. Your body was burning and in pain, but you were free like a bird, having just left the cage and the captivity behind an–

“There you are, sweetheart.” A rough voice said, as an arm was thrown over your shoulder in an almost friendly manner, but the grip on you was too strong to be anything but danger, “A real sprinter, eh? Gave the guys a run for their money.”

You swallowed hard, eyes flickering around desperately, doing anything but looking at him, the urge to scream instant but the moment you opened your mouth, you felt a familiar muzzle press against your side. Even with fabric in between, the gun was a clear threat.

“Don’t be silly,” John Price warned and though his voice was happy, you knew he was serious, as he steered you, “c’mon now, she isn’t in a good mood as it is.”

As you watched a big, black car with darkened windows stop at the road a couple of metres from you, you reconsidered making a scene - wondering if Price would actually shoot you, if the shot would be immediate. You finally dared to look over at the man having a grip on you that he pretended to be a friendly one as he steered you directly to the car. He gave you a grin. He was dressed in “normal” clothes, a beanie on his head, scarf hiding some of his face, dressed as if he was any other civilian - as if the two of you were lovers, on the way home, as if you weren’t being steered towards what you were sure would lead to your execution. 

You stopped in front of the side door of the car and heard it unlock, fear unlocked inside your mind too, unable to focus. Either you would be brought back to the cage - or to an early grave.

The door opened and Price took a hold of your neck, more or less just pushing you inside, a grunt leaving you as you fell on your knees on the carpet - only to see a pair of high heels in front of you. You looked up, on your hands and knees, taking in the Watcher .

Kate Laswell’s hand shot out, gripping your hair and pulling you up next to her, ignoring your cry of pain - and to your horror, John Price didn’t just close the door behind you. No, he joined the two of you, closing the car door behind him, the doors locking once more.

He sat down on the seats opposite Kate Laswell - because of course they had a fancy car like this, where the guests were sitting opposite each other, a black screen behind Price, keeping the chauffeur from watching you. You didn’t even get the chance to comment on it however, because then the car moved once more - and Kate pulled on your hair, hard.

A pitiful whine left you as she manoeuvred you, pulling you over her lap and then pushing down on your back, not saying anything as you struggled and began to protest. A pair of bigger hands suddenly pulled on your arms.

“Wait-wait-wa–”

Click . 

Price sat down again, the handcuffs around your wrists, making your hands useless behind your back. Confusion filled your mind as your face was pushed into the seats, body draped over Kate’s lap - and then a well-manicured hand took a hold at the hem of your pants, pulling them down.

“No- nonono, I’m sorry Kate - I did–” “SHUT UP!”

Your face was pressed harder into the seat, body flinching at her sudden yell. 

“You’ve already created so many fuckin’ problems,” she continued, voice eerily calm again as she pulled your sweatpants down, hand then resting on your panties for just a moment, “all you had to do was stay .”

Humiliation filled you, your brain not allowing you to lay still, Kate’s hand tightening in your hair. You almost bare ass was exposed to her, stretchmarks and everything. Price was just watching the two of you, having pulled  out a cigar.

“I’m sorry, please don't, I was sc–”

Your panties were pulled down so suddenly that you barely registered it, before Kate’s palm collided with your asscheeks. The sound that left you was a mixture of a surprised squeal and scared wail.

“Told you to fucking shut up too - stop squirming!” 

You couldn’t see Kate’s face, but you could hear the dark annoyance in her voice. One hand gripping your hair tightly, the other starting a painful pattern as it repeatedly collided with your soft ass. Making it jiggle a little as the skin burned and you squirmed. The words of apologies and begging that left your mouth at first were replaced with whimpers and cries. As each hit made your poor skin redder and warmer, sending so many emotions through you that you felt like a computer program on the edge of crashing. The worst part, besides the pain?

… The fact that you liked it. The fact that her mean words and harsh spankings made your need for Kate somehow grow even more, how you felt your pussy grow wetter each time her hand connected with your skin.

Though, despite your unexpected turn-on, you sobbed from the pain and shame. Tears and drool dripped from you onto the seats beneath you, as you kept your eyes closed. Small pitiful begs left you now and again. The number of spanks had passed 20 a while ago. 

Your sobs eventually dried up, only small moans of pain leaving you, body having gone limp. When it finally stopped, it took you a couple of seconds before you realised it. Instead her hand was resting on your burning ass, her other hand gently petting your hair. A part of your brain registered the fact that the car had driven far too long, which meant she had prolonged the ride, merely to spank you.

She leant down to whisper in your ear.

“You won’t do that again, will you, Fae?”

“N-no,” you answered weakly, not wanting to open your eyes. The car smelled of cigar smoke and you could hear Price let out a pleased hum. Like a vicious dog, loyal to its master, even as it watched her beat up a stray. You felt her hand squeeze an already burning cheek, making you add “I won’t do tha-at again, miss Laswell.”

The cheek was released. Her hand in your hair moved down to dry off a few tears.

“ Good girl ,” she praised.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 6

And what if I maybe decided that this isn't actually the last chapter?

Don't ask how my work week is going, I stupidly wrote this instead of the draft report I need to submit on Friday.... Incidentally, the report has a shorter wordcount than this chapter so technically, technically all I need is some actual ooomph to go ahead and write it!

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Masterlist

Tagging: @cillmequick & @thomasshelbyswife

Chapter 6

Weeks had passed since Seren had left. She made her way around the aisle of the supermarket with her new charge, not too fast and not too slow. Heaven forbid she get the speed wrong. 

“That jam there, on the middle shelf.” The elderly woman in the wheelchair said suddenly, pointing vaguely at approximately 80 jars of jam variations.

“This one?”

“No, down.”

“This?”

“No left a bit, the one that looks like cherries.”

“Cherry jam then?”

“No, the one next to it.” Seren resisted the urge to smash every jar on the floor. She held up another jar. “That’s the ticket, love. Now, eggs.”

“You don’t like eggs?” “I want you to make a cake. Coffee and walnut.” Seren hesitated, her last coffee and walnut cake had been demolished in the space of about four hours by David and River.

“How about a vicky sponge instead?” She suggested, scanning the shelves.

“Too sweet. Next to the eggs, there, the walnuts.”

“Coffee and walnut, my favourite.” Another voice chimed in.

“Mine too! She’s refusing to make it though.”

“I’m not refusing, I just-” Seren turned back to the lady, eggs and walnuts in hand. Alongside her stood River.

“Fine Mags, I’ll make coffee and walnut.” She dumped the stuff in the basket on Maggie’s lap. “Excuse me.” She said politely to River and went to push the wheelchair on. “Seren, wait, please?”

“Who’s this young man?” 

“River, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, Maggie blushed.

“Seren, you told me you were single!”

“I am.”

“I think I’d remember if you’d told me about this fella. He’s very handsome,” she turned to River, “you’re very handsome.”

“That’s because I haven’t told you about him. There’s nothing to tell. This is an old… acquaintance, that’s all.” Maggie’s bark of laughter turned into a hacking cough.

“Old acquaintance. Do I look bloody daft?”

“Come on, we’ve got to get a move on. Senior swim time.” Seren turned the wheelchair away from River and started at speed down the rest of the aisle.

“Bet he’d love to see you in a cossie.”

“Margaret Monroe!” 

“I’m only saying, love. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” As they rounded the next aisle, Maggie turned in her chair to Seren, “he’s still there.” She whispered loudly enough to be heard by the entirety of the store. “Corrr and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.” 

“Give it a rest, Mags.” Seren could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“It’s rude to ignore people.” The older woman said sternly.

“It’s a long story. We’ve got to go otherwise you’ll miss swimming.” Maggie raised her hand and waved to River who caught them up easily with no wheelchair to manoeuvre around. 

“How do you know the lovely Seren then?”

“She looked after my grandfather.”

“Oh!” She said brightly, then her face fell a little, “did he die? I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. He’s… fine. He’s his usual self.” River confirmed, noting the relief that crossed Seren’s face.

“Why’d she leave then? Why’d you leave?” Maggie looked back and forth between them.

“I told you, it’s a long story. Do you want to go swimming or not?” Maggie huffed. 

“It was nice to meet you, love. We’re off to the leisure centre for a swim. She keeps telling me it’s good for me.”

“Sounds fun. It was nice to meet you Maggie, see you again.”

“No you won’t.” Seren interrupted.

“Can I call you?” He asked quickly, before the opportunity to ask had disappeared.

“No, please don’t.”

“You should! God knows this girl needs to smile more. Either that or she needs a proper good-”

“I smile loads.” Seren scowled, interrupting quickly to stop Maggie from saying something less appropriate. Maggie rolled her eyes. As she went to push the wheelchair through the checkout, River dropped Seren’s favourite chocolate bar into the basket.

“For after swimming.” He shrugged. “It’s really good to see you. Still wearing my hoodie though?” He smiled faintly. Seren nodded at the unexpected gesture and to her surprise, River was the one to walk away. As Seren watched him leave, Maggie chattered away next to her.

“Well you kept him quiet, what a lovely man Seren! Bet he’d show you a good time,” the older lady sniggered.

“Stop interfering, you old perv.” Seren teased her gently. “I’m going to stop getting you those smutty books from the library.” She threatened.

“Don’t you dare. I deserve to get my thrills from somewhere young lady.” Seren let her talk, her mind drifting to River. He’d done exactly as she’d asked and not contacted her in weeks. A week after the confrontation in the barn, she received a small box with her book, phone charger, chocolate and various other things she’d left behind at David’s house. It had been hand delivered to her house, she hadn’t sent a thank you message. As the weeks had gone on, she found her anger giving way to sadness. She still felt foolish for having trusted both River and David so completely, she began to feel more betrayed than angry. She’d fended off nosey questions from Maggie when she’d first started looking after her, her bruises still visible and her hand still tightly wrapped. She was so easily distracted by a tall flash of dirty blonde hair in the corner of her eye and now, with the unexpected meeting in the supermarket, she found herself wondering if she’d been right all along and he had really been there, she hadn’t imagined it or wished for it. With Maggie safely back at home, Seren poured herself a glass of wine and tried to settle with a book. A light tap at the door stirred her. River.

“I told you not to come here.” “You told me not to call.” She rolled her eyes, holding the door so it was clear he wasn’t going to be welcomed inside.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

“I know.”

“So? Why are you here?” She looked at him properly for the first time. Stubble longer than normal, a mournful look in his eyes and dark circles underneath. She knew she didn’t look much better, Maggie told her daily how sad her eyes were. Her resolution to not let him in was wavering. With a sigh, she pulled open the door fully. “Come in. 5 minutes, that’s all you get.” He slipped past her gratefully and she could smell the soap and aftershave he used, scents that had long deserted the hoodie she continued to wear.

“I wanted to apologise. Properly, I mean. I didn’t get a chance really that night, or when you came back to get your car. It was… fucked up. You should never have been caught up in it all.”

“You should have told me the truth.”

“How could I?” He asked, desperately. “I had to keep you safe.” 

“Safe?” She scoffed, closing the space between them and moving the neckline of her top to one side, “I still have the bruises!” Barely visible to the naked eye, River could see the faint marks which still littered her neck. Without thinking, he brought his hand up and traced the outline with his finger. He could make out her pulse, her heart pounded, and the movement of her nervous swallow. She took a step back, shaking her head, “don’t touch me.” She pleaded. His hand and his gaze dropped down to her hand where she still had a bandage.

“Still not healed?” He asked, his voice hoarse. He lifted it gently, holding it in both of his hands.

“They had to align the fracture. Two more weeks and I can take this off.” She felt a warm tear drop onto the exposed skin on the palm of her hand and looked up at him. 

“You got hurt because of me-” he started.

“I got hurt because I stupidly thought I could punch a grown man. I was an idiot, trying to protect David - who apparently can handle himself just fine.” 

“No, you were incredible. If you hadn’t been there… I wouldn’t have been there in time. They’d have done it, they’d have killed him.” She knew she should take another step back but the warmth of his body was intoxicating and she was struggling to hold onto her anger. He released her hand and wiped his eyes.

“How is he?”

“Pain in the arse. Hates everyone they send to look after him. He misses you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me the guilty one.”

“I didn’t mean to, sorry. It’s just… he was better with you, I think.”

“He went through a crazy evening, finding out your old workplace wants you dead is a bit mental.”

“I was better with you.”

“River-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologising, you’re doing my head in. You look like crap.” She muttered, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Yeah, so grandad keeps telling me.” He let his head drop into the crook of her neck and breathed her in.

“It’s just a hug, that’s all you get then you can fuck off.” She felt him nod against her and the soft huff of his breath on her skin. The proximity and familiarity made her heart flutter. She reluctantly released the hug, for her own sanity. He watched her intently, the conflict in her eyes clearly visible. He brought his hands up to cup her face and she leaned into his touch, a trembling sigh passing her lips as he met her in a soft, uncertain kiss. She pulled away first, placing a hand on his chest to push herself back. “No. No, I’m still so angry, River.” She paced back and forth in front of him. “I feel like such an idiot for trusting you so implicitly.” She told him, the accusatory tone to her voice gave away the anger rising in her again. She backed further away from him. “You should go now. I asked you not to come.” She marched past him and flung the door open wide. “Go now please, I can’t… I need to stop thinking about you, and the only way I can do that is to not be near you.” She trailed off weakly. He paused as he passed her. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He admitted cautiously. Seren reached for him first, her traitorous body overruling her mind and all sense of reason. She caught the edge of his jacket and pulled him down into a far less hesitant kiss than the previous one. He kicked the front door shut again and pressed her back against the wall. She led him down the short hallway, dropping his jacket and her (his) hoodie along the way. River pulled off the oversized t-shirt she wore, surprised to find nothing underneath and enveloped her in his arms. He walked her backwards through her open bedroom door, both of them tripping on her discarded shorts, his t-shirt. She pulled him with her onto the bed, hissing in pain as she realised she'd used the wrong hand. He slotted between her open thighs and turned her hand gently, kissing the slither of exposed skin between the thumb and index finger. Seren wanted to hold onto the anger she felt was justified, but she couldn't deny how much she wanted him. He stopped suddenly and she held her breath, waiting. She felt a kiss at the base of her throat and then at each ghost of a fingertip bruise on her neck, faint, but he found them all. She choked back a sob.

“I hate that I need you so badly.” Her whisper turned into a low moan as his long fingers teased a path through the thin layer of her underwear, already soaked with her need for him. She bucked against his hand, holding it in place tightly with her good hand. 

“Show me, Seren,” he demanded quietly, “show me what you need.” He slid the underwear down her legs. She covered his hand with her own and guided it to where she wanted him most. River thrust his fingers into her torturously slowly, building her orgasm from so deeply inside she could hardly breathe. "I've got you," he murmured through kisses, "I've got you." His thumb brushed against her clit and she rocked into him. She grasped at his shoulders as she got closer and closer to the edge. "I want this… want you, always." He kissed her hard as she came, swallowing her moans as she clenched around his fingers, his name on her lips. He worked her through the orgasm, watching her with a mix of pride and lust as she fell boneless into the mattress. 

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate way to earn forgiveness, River.” She whispered, a giggle bubbling in her chest for the first time in weeks.

“Thought I was never going to see you smile again,” he half joked.

“‘M not smiling.”

“Yeah you are.”

“It’s the endorphins. Totally out of my control.” She sat up to look at him, covering herself with her arm. “How do you still have clothes on?” She gestured to his jeans.

“I was more bothered about getting yours off,” he admitted. 

“Some things never change.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Seren.” His head dropped to his chest with a heavy sigh, the tension between them finally cracking. She moved her hand from where it covered her chest and brought it to cup his face, her fingertips running over the stubble. “Everytime I sleep, I see Duffy pointing that fucking gun at you.” He said hoarsely, laying bare his helplessness. Seren closed her eyes, trying to blink away the tears.

“Oh, love.” She sighed. Removing her hand from his face, she got off the bed and pulled on the closest item of clothing, his t-shirt. Then she set about closing the bedroom curtains and switching off the light in the hallway. He watched her from the edge of the bed until she stood directly in front of him. “C’mon, clothes off, we’re going to bed.” She nudged him. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She disappeared to what he assumed was the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in a t-shirt of her own. She put the one she’d taken off with the jeans he’d left by the bed and pulled back the covers of the bed. She folded her body around him, tucking her knees behind his and pressing her chest to his back. He could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck and her hand curled around onto his chest and for the first time in weeks they both fell asleep straight away. Seren woke on and off through the night to soft caresses and kisses until they succumbed to sleep again. In the early hours, fuelled by a restful night, she felt River curl around her, pressing hard into the soft flesh of her thighs. She rolled onto her back and pulled him to cover her body, pressing her heels into the back of his thighs to guide him into her. It was still so dark in her room that she could hardly see him. She let her hands guide her, trailing up his arms, over his broad back, down to squeeze his thigh, back up and into his hair. He matched with each roll of her hips, slowly and languidly. The darkness made everything quieter, his whispered affirmations, praise and moans were dizzying. Seren clung to him like she never wanted to let go, holding him to her as they both came. When she woke again, she was alone. If it hadn’t been for the ache between her thighs, it could have easily been a dream. 

*

River clattered up the stairs to Lamb’s office with more energy than he’d had in weeks, though his face did not share the same spirit.

“Blimey, you’re positively sprightly this morning. What’s wrong with your face?”

“It’s just my face. Ewelina has walked out on the old bastard.”

“Was she the Polish girl?”

“Yep, he insulted her cooking.”

“How many is that now?”

“He’s gone through eight, I think? He didn’t like Glenys-”

“No one fucking liked Glenys.”

“Or Debbie, Sarah, Pete-”

“What was wrong with Pete?” Lamb asked, incredulous.

“He couldn’t play chess. Shame, he left some decent IPA behind.”

“Is there anyone left?”

“Dunno, guess we’ll have to ask Taverner.” Lamb laughed,

“No, no Cartwright, you will have to ask Lady Di. Not me.”

“Go on Lamb, please? She’ll kill me.”

“While I would pay to see that, I’ll settle for watching you make the call.” He sniggered. With a heavy sigh, River took the outstretched phone.

“Umm, hi? It’s Cartwright? River Cartwright?” Lamb couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation to his disappointment. “Yep, another one. No, he just says they’re all shit. Great, thanks.” He hung up and passed back the phone. 

“Sending someone else?”

“So she says.”

“Y’know Cartwright, I’m quite enjoying the inconvenience all of this is causing for Lady Di. I feel like it’s a bit of vindication for us.” Lamb said decidedly.

The cause of the inconvenience tutted into his coffee, his mind wasn’t playing ball and the crossword was giving him more trouble than he deemed necessary. Outside, he heard a car far larger than River’s arrive, accompanied by a neat knock on his back door.

“David. Seems I have a reason to be here again?”

“Diana, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well the pleasure is certainly not mine, I assure you.”

“Coffee?”

“Hmm,” Diana Taverner looked around David’s kitchen while he pottered around making her a cup of coffee. “You’ve declined another approved carer?” “They weren’t suitable.”

“None of them?” She scoffed. “I do find that hard to believe. You’re becoming a nuisance, David. I’m starting to regret not letting Duffy shoot you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he smiled.

“I actually do. I want this resolved, I want this off my desk, and the next time I hear your name, I want it to be when I find out that you died peacefully in your bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“So what is it you want?” David hesitated.

“I want Seren back.”

“The girl from the barn?” He nodded.

“I got on with her, she understood me. We had an agreement.” Taverner frowned.

“Cartwright, you know she’s not service approved. Our agreement was that you would have someone who was service approved.”

“So employ her? It’s not that difficult, surely?” She drank her coffee in silence. 

“Will it shut you up?”

“There’s a good chance of that, yes.” He held up a finger, “but I don’t want River to know, not until it’s done.”

“That’s making the very big assumption that I’m going to do this for you?”

“You want it off your desk. That’s how it goes.” 

“I don’t like being held over a barrel like this.”

“Should have shot me when you had the chance then.” Taverner laughed,

“Yes, well - touché. Very well. You won’t hear from me again.” She left her half drunk coffee on the table and David went back to his crossword.

*

Seren hadn’t heard from River at all. She sat with Maggie side by side in a brightly lit corridor, like naughty schoolgirls waiting to go to the office.

“I don’t like this.” Maggie grumbled.

“I know, but Daniel and Penny think it’s the right thing for you.”

“We’re coping perfectly fine, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, but you’ll have a lot more friends here?” She held out a leaflet, “look, they go to senior swim as well? And trips to the cinema and Kew Gardens - you love Kew Gardens.” Maggie huffed.

“I like living in my own bloody house.” Seren didn’t respond. Maggie hadn’t taken the news of moving to a care home well at all. Her daughter and son-in-law were in the office finalising the details of her new ensuite room. “Will you visit me?”

“Of course I will, Mags. Try and stop me.” Seren took Maggie’s hand and kissed the back of it. 

“You’re a good girl, Seren. What will you do?” She shrugged.

“No idea. Maybe a holiday? It’s been a weird year so far.”

“Somewhere sunny. Get that swimming cossie out again.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing about my cossie, Mags.”

“Maybe in my younger days darling. Don’t tell Penny.” Seren smiled.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Mum? Shall we take you to see your room?” Penny emerged from the office.

“I’ll go and have a look at the garden,” Seren told them and then dropped down to talk to Maggie, “be nice!” She warned her. She wandered around the extensive garden of the very exclusive - and expensive - care home. She wondered whether David had gotten the fence painted before the weather had turned, whether the plants they’d chosen were thriving. Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out, the screen still cracked. She really needed to get that fixed. “Seren Harrison?”

“Ms Harrison, I have a call for you from Diana Taverner at Thames House. Can I connect you?”

“Uhh-” Seren’s response was a very undignified stutter and the call was connected before she could accept - or refuse - it. “Hello?”

“Ahh, hello. We weren’t introduced previously. I’m Diana Taverner, I hope you don’t mind my calling?” Seren stumbled over her words and formed some sort of non-committing answer. “Good. I was with David Cartwright a couple of weeks ago, has he been in touch?”

“No, why, what’s happened to him?”

“Nothing at all, more's the pity. He’s been getting through designated home assistance at quite a rate,” Seren couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “It’s becoming very frustrating. Apparently, he will only have you helping him.”

“Me?”

“You got along, did you not?” Seren recalled numerous plates and mugs she replaced but the memory was quickly overruled by ones of doing the crossword, drinking tea in the garden and learning how to play chess.

“We did,” she said softly.

“It seems the ties that bind you both mean a great deal to him. He would like me to make you an offer of employment.” Seren held her breath. “If that is acceptable to you?” Seren could almost hear David’s voice in her ear ‘don’t give in easily, make them work for it’. 

“Well, I’d need to know the terms of the contract, of course.” She stammered. Taverner sighed.

“Yes, yes. I’ll have someone send it over to you by courier. They will wait for an immediate return or dismissal though?”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“I certainly hope so. I do not want to have to deal with this any longer. I must go, I have a meeting with the Prime Minister shortly. I trust the contract will meet your approval, it’s likely you won’t hear from me again so you have both my admiration and commiserations for managing the Cartwright’s. You deserve a bloody damehood.” Seren nearly laughed at Taverner’s exasperated sigh.

“They’re definitely hard work.” She agreed.

“Indeed. Goodbye Ms Harrison, and thank you.” The call rang off before Seren could respond and from the conservatory, Maggie called and waved to her.

She parked in her usual spot. The revolving door of carers hadn’t bothered with the weeds on the driveway, she noted. She knocked and waited patiently, her hand had barely moved from the woodwork when the door flung open.

“Can I help you?” He asked impatiently. Seren sighed.

“Mr Cartwright, it’s Seren. I umm, well you see -” she tried to think of the best way to explain, the best way to re-introduce herself when she saw the corner of David’s mouth pulling into a smile. “You old git!” She scolded him with a grin.

“Couldn’t help myself my dear.” He beamed. “May I?” He held out his arms and she hugged him warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. I take it you’ve been quite the troublemaker?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Seren dear. It’s been quite an ordeal, really.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you offer me a proper apology over tea? I brought cake.”

“Coffee and walnut?”

“Of course. Chess?”

“Naturally. Come on in.” Seren followed him into the house, the familiarity of it washing over her. Despite the break in, she felt safe and calm there. They caught up over cake. Seren found that she was no longer angry. Knowing that she was a fully paid up Park employee, David spoke more openly about his past. She knew there would always be things he would keep from her, but he was able to articulate fully what had happened when they’d been in the barn. He told her of his worries about River not sleeping properly, eating junk and his overall desolate attitude.

“I take it he doesn’t know I’m here?” She asked carefully. As he went to respond, the sound of a car turning on the driveway filtered through from the kitchen window.

“I suspect he does now.” He mused as River came to a stop quietly in the doorway.

Chapter 7

[briarberrythornedhart]

Courage is a Prerequisite

CW: Eddie being kinda a jerk to reader at first, Aged up Characters, reference to nude pictures, mostly fluff, no smut

Eddie Munson/You

Word count: 1615

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You found that cursed flyer in the Roane County Community College Library, tacked to the bulletin board.

You joined the group with some hesitation, but they were mostly cool.

Mostly dudes, quite a few graduates from Hawkin’s High, and a few current high school seniors. Including, your favorite - Dustin Henderson - the adorable little brother you always wished for.

Dustin was funny and welcoming and had a way of knowing (like magic) how to shut down arguments among the party. He was the social director for the group. Always throwing parties for everyone’s birthdays and organizing secret gift exchanges and creating sign up sheets for potlucks. He had a gift for getting people to be involved and do things.

Dustin could even influence the group’s Dungeon Master.

Eddie was 25 years old, a mechanic by day, a gifted lead guitarist every other Friday, an artist, whip-smart, and devastatingly hot but SOOOOO Annoying!!

Somehow Dustin had figured out how to make Eddie Munson (who absolutely still complained everytime) to come to these other events and on time and with his assigned snacks.

Eddie was respectful as a Dungeon Master but out of game, sometimes, he was just mean to you for no goddam reason. Sometimes he would be all teasy-flirty with you and then make fun of you if you flirted back.

The third session you attended maybe dressed up a bit (just to look cute) maybe a little to get his attention. Eddie looked you over and called you a ‘dirty slut’. He was ‘joking’ or whatever... when you got angry he said he meant the outfit looked hot (not you though - specifically your outfit) and he was “sorry for joking around” but ever since you had been holding this grudge...

Anyway - Dickish DM aside - the group was great.

⚔️ ⚔️ ⚔️

About two months into the current Campaign (and 2 dead characters - murdered by the dick DM in collusion with your bad die rolls), at the end of a long but admittedly exciting game night, everyone was packing up to go.

Jeff and Eddie were in a heated argument about who would win in a fight between Captain Kirk and Han Solo.

But you stopped listening to that silliness because Dustin approached you, “Can I ask for some advice?”

Aww - he came to you for advice. It warmed your heart that he wanted to open up to you about his worries. He was such a cutie-goober. Equal parts of both.

“Suzie’s mad at me,” he sighed.

“What’d you do?” You asked. Because little-dude was a Goober. And Suzie was pretty easy-going from what you could tell.

Dustin looked uncomfortable, and he near-whispered, “We were sending dot matrix converted pictures of each other - our school pictures - through web email and I asked if she would show me something... lower.”

“Dustin.” The rebuke in your voice was mild. As was the offense in your opinion. They’d been together (long distance) for years, you’d have asked for naughty pictures too in that situation.

You still clicked your tongue at him, though.

“I know, I know,” he took off his ball cap and ran his hands through his long curly hair, “... but I can’t help wondering... you know upstairs-outsidies is as far as we got at Camp Know Where and I said I want her to be my girl and she said ‘forever’ and so...”

“The ‘net is a wild place right now, man, that’s a crazy trust exercise for you to ask for! What if someone hacks in and takes the pictures?!” You shook your head at the audacity.

“Or my mom could find them printed out. I know, I know and I apologized and told her I'd keep my hormones in check - but I don’t think she’s forgiven me and she’s just so pretty and I love her - and I don’t want her to be mad at me anymore for being a stereotypical gross hornball dude.”

“I don’t think she’s mad at you for wanting to see her naked. I know she’s in that very religious *cough Cult* household but like Guys don’t have a monopoly on hormones and desire and shit.” You tapped your pencil with the troll eraser topper against your cheek pondering this... “Personally, I’d feel more comfortable mailing polaroids of my body than sending them in electronic mail. It feels safer...”

A familiar voice danced into your ears. “Oh, would you?? Is there a mailing list I should sign up for?” Of course DM Eddie was eavesdropping and interrupting players, his favorite pastimes.

“This is an A and B conversation, Munson, you can C your way out of it.” You snarked.

“I don’t think so, Sweetheart. Ya’ see - Dustin is asking for advice from You,” he narrowed his eyes and leaned in - it would be menacing if he wasn’t equal parts goofy and pretty - those freckles across his pretty face..., “ You - our newest member, and I’ve known Dustin longer - I’m gonna have a better understanding of his whole situation.” He cocked his head forward and his hair flew around - it was so stupid pretty.. .Annoying. It was so Annoying. “I’ve got seniority here, dollface.” he looked back and forth between you. “So what’s the situation?”

Dustin cleared his throat to start explaining but you forced a laugh and put up a finger in the air, “I wouldn’t ask Munson to advise me out of a wet paper bag.”

Eddie made a noise between a scoff and a hurt gasp but his eyes sparkled. “I would never give Dustin bad advice.” he looked at Dustin, “Didn’t I help you THIS session, to avoid pissing off that Djinni prince??”

“Of course you know the answers In Game when you are a Big Bad Serious DM.” You put your hands on your hips. “This is real life. Dustin doesn’t want to mess things up with Suzie.”

“Wait? Is Suzie a real person?” Eddie smirked. This was a common bit- the whole group (with yourself, Will, and Mike as the notable exceptions) teased Dustin about his long distance girlfriend not being real. Of course they hadn’t been in chat rooms with her like you had. She had a LOT of personality and no AI was that sophisticated...

yet.

Dustin didn’t even dignify the jab with a response. He just looked at you with pain in his eyes. “So, how do I make her forgive me?”

“You don’t.” You said. And both guys looked like you slapped their individual faces (!). “I mean, you can’t MAKE someone forgive you, Dustin! You need to be brave. You can only work to figure out what really happened, then apologize - a real apology that shows understanding of her feelings and concerns - and promise to do better. And I think she doesn’t want to hear you say you are ‘sorry for wanting to see her naked’ because that’s probably not what pissed her off and ... it’s not true, is it?”

Dustin nodded. “Yeah. Okay, okay, I can do that.” Clearly listening and processing this, “Hey - can I get a ride home?”

“I’d love to, Buddy, but my car is broken again.” You shrugged. “I biked.”

“What’d you do to her now??” Eddie groused.

“Nothing!! she’s just old.” You snapped.

“You need to do regular maintenance, I’ve told you this before - fer cryin’ out loud! Is the engine smoking again?” Eddie griped.

“Yes - Eddie! You Know I can’t afford regular oil changes. Not at the rate you recommend.”

Dustin cleared his throat. “Eddie, can you drive us both home?” He smiled with his little brother energy and Eddie replied,

“Of course, dude, grab your stuff.” And to you. “You coming?” All weird and stilted like he didn’t want to give you a ride and You’d Honestly Rather not impose and subject yourself to more of his BS, but It was Raining.

Eddie helped you heft your bike into the back of his van. He wouldn’t make eye contact with you though.

Dustin kept you both on safe-non-argument-inducing topics on the ride to his place. But then you were alone with Eddie. So it was inevitable that he would start some shit with you.

He licked his upper lip and turned towards you in the back. “Can you come up here, please, I’ll feel less like your chauffeur.”

“You’d make a terrible chauffeur.” You said conversationally as you got into the front and sank into the plush seat, crossing your arms over your chest.

Eddie looked like he was gonna start a fight with you again but then sighed, drooped, his hair falling in his face. “I’m... sorry.”

Did he just say that?? Really??

“I’m sorry I said you looked like a dirty slut.” His words were suddenly coming at you like a verbal deluge. Drowning you in sincerity?? He was capable of Sincerity?? “I’m sorry... that I said ... that I was joking. What I should have said is... I always think you look hot and it’s distracting sometimes when I’m trying to be a big bad serious DM, and you are in these tight jeans and shit and I don’t want... to fight with you anymore. I want us to be close. Like you and Dustin apparently are. Friends. If you can be friends with a guy who finds you attractive. Please. I’ll... I’ll do better.”

He turned toward you and his eyes were so big and pretty. His sexy lips were saying impossible things. Maybe you hit your head earlier and are currently passed out or this is a dream or...

“I promise. I can be a good friend. I can.” He sounded a tad unsure.

“Eddie, I can't just be friends with you. I’m into you. I’m totally bonkers crazy about you.”

“Oh.” For a moment he looked confused. Still sad. Contemplative.

And then the trademark smirk came back. “So, that means you want to be more than friends with me?”