#might be slow going getting caps of the next chapter and getting back to playing

[kay-wren]

I'll Come Running - R.C. - Chapter 1

JJ, Kiara, John B, Pope, and Sarah were all sitting at the Chateau trying to figure out a plan to get their gold back from Rafe Cameron. With Rafe's dad, Rose, and Wheezy presumed dead on the yacht that killed them all, the 22 year old is the sole proprietor of what Ward stole from the Pogues. Sarah still couldnt figure out why Ward decided to die on the Druthers with Rose and Wheezy in tandem, it seemed very selfish if you were to ask her. But even more so than that... why did Ward not go down with his whole family? Did he have some master plan in keeping Rafe and Sarah alive? Or was he doing it just despite them? Those thoughts tormented Sarah ever since the incident. She had to remove herself from those ideas though in order to help the pogues. Still, she sat at the Chateau inevitably out of it.

"We've gotta get the gold back man, that's ours!" JJ exclaimed with disgust and anger in his voice as he slammed his fist on the table and clung to his favorite ball cap.

"Yeah, I know man, that's what we're trying to figure out." John B sassed, clearly already over the day that they were having. 

"I don't know what else there is to do. I mean Rafe's taking the gold to the Bahamas None of us can get on that plane, and none of us can get there otherwise." Pope stated.

"Kie, maybe your parents could spot us the cash for some plane tickets." JJ said frantically looking over at Kiara.

"Um no, they made it very clear that they are done with our antics, they don't even know that I'm here right now!" She retorted back with a hint of irritation in her voice as she narrowed her eyebrows towards JJ.

JJ put his hands on his head and started breathing heavily as he paced around the Chateau trying to find a solution.

"Face it man, the gold is gone. There's literally no way we can get to it." Pope exclaimed matter-of-factly, trying to be the only logical thinking person in the group at the moment.

"NO, there has to be a way! I'm not just going to let him take what's ours. Alright? That's happened too many times in my life man and I'll be damned if I let it happen again!" JJ said with even more anger in his voice. 

"We all know there's only one person in this world that can control Rafe Cameron..." Sarah trailed off, not even making eye contact with any of the pogues. Sarah held a distant stare into nothing and a gaping hole in her mouth. 

They all looked up and glanced around the room with looks of confusion, trying to see who would know the answer to Sarah's riddle. Sarah eventually looked at JJ. Once everyone realized who she was she was referring to, they all looked at JJ as well, almost with a look of pity.

JJ slowed his pacing, took his hands off his head, and looked back at the pogues and started shaking his head slowly.

"No, no way man. She made it very clear that she was gone, okay? She doesn't want to be wrapped up in all this, and I'm not going to be the one to bring her back into it. No way!" JJ stated more calmly but still with conviction as he held one hand to his chest, feeling like it might be tightening from the stress of the very idea. 

There was a pause, as if nobody knew what to say next. They all knew where JJ was coming from, but this was the only way to get back into the game. Sarah finally spoke up.

"Don't tell her why. Just tell her you need her."

"I'm not going to lie to her." JJ said as his voice cracked with small tears in his eyes, tears of anger or sadness no one could really tell.

"JJ, she'll do it for you." John B said with a sympathetic look in his eye as he wrapped an arm around JJ's shoulder to console him.

JJ and John B shared a look between the two of them, as if an argument was going on simply in their eyes. JJ's look was calloused. John B's look was hopeful.

"F-fine." JJ said as he sucked in a breath to fight back more tears. "But if she gets hurt in any way, we're done." he said as he looked down to the ground playing with his fingernails.

They all nodded seriously as if to make it clear that they understand the assignment.

"I don't even know where she lives man, all she gave me was her number years ago." JJ laughed looking up at John B.

"Well then looks like we're going to see if that number still works." John B smiled.

[wuahae]

hey cat!! i've been good~ i binged all the chapters of the spyxfamily manga in a day and it was wonderful 😌 i would love to see hoshi + meeting for the first time in college! shy hoshi meeting strangers 🤭 hope you've been well too!! sending lots of love~ -prom anon

I LOVE SPY X FAMILY....i haven't read it in a really long time but i'm waiting for my animanga phase to come back before i catch up to it again haha

hoshi + meet cute

soonyoung thinks he's been sitting on this couch for an hour. or maybe it's only been half an hour. or... he knits his brows. to be honest, he really doesn't know. time passes strangely when he's drunk.

he knows a few things though—they've played at least three more rounds of beer pong since he first sat down on this couch, the cheap frozen pizza mingyu barely managed to make edible has started to taste less like cardboard the more drinks soonyoung's gotten in him, and he knows if he gets up to pee he might not make it out of that bathroom in one piece. or at all.

there's a loud cheer as joshua and vernon win another round of beer pong on the table behind him, a dip in the couch as someone sits next to him.

"hey, you okay?" a cold water bottle pressed to his cheek. a slow blink and turn of the head.

oh, here's another thing soonyoung is certain about. the person that just sat down next to him is really, really, really cute.

“uh.”

“soonyoung, right?”

"...uh huh."

"great!" you give him a cheery smile, handing him the water bottle. "jihoon said to give this to you. said you'd need it."

"thanks," soonyoung responds, just a little dumbly. you are just so cute. he can't feel his face.

“so you’re jun’s friend?” you ask, taking a chip from the big bag on the coffee table. “from college?”

soonyoung nods, sipping on the water. “we took psych 211 together freshman year.”

“the sex class?”

“yup!” as loose-lipped as he is, soonyoung is not about to admit he almost failed psych 211: diversity of human sexuality. “best easy A ever.”

“but i don’t think i’ve seen you here before?” soonyoung asks. he might be an absolute mess drunk, but he doesn’t think he could have missed you if you were at one of these parties earlier this year.

you nod enthusiastically. "i don't go here, actually!"

"oh really?"

"yeah!" your flannel slips a little from your shoulder as you reach for another chip. your knee brushes against his. soonyoung's pretty sure his mouth is gaping. "we're actually friends from high school," you explain, eyes bright and wide from what he hopes is the alcohol. he really hopes he isn't making a fool of himself to someone completely sober.

and under normal circumstances, soonyoung would ask for how long? does that mean you were friends with jihoon and wonwoo since high school too? not to mention the dirt he'd try to fish out of you regarding the three to use later.

but right now, soonyoung is still recovering from the three lost rounds of rage cage, his tongue can't seem to work right with the blur in his head and the ringing in his ears and fuck, he wants to make a cool first impression on you and maybe show off that he's a key part of the university dance team but all he can really think of is how he still really, really needs to pee.

"cool," he utters, more than a little dumbly this time.

your eyes crinkle as you laugh a little, leaning over. "you're cute, soonyoung. talk to me later when you're more sober, okay?"

soonyoung blinks. what?

someone—he thinks it's jun, that damn cockblock—calls your name and announces a declaration of war against the new reigning champions of beer pong.

"oh look at that," you tease lightly. "duty calls." nudging soonyoung before you get up, you gesture vaguely at him. "can i have a sip, by the way?"

soonyoung nods before he even follows your gaze to see what you're gesturing to, but before he realizes it, you take the water in his hands and screw open the cap, tipping back the bottle to drink.

"thanks! see you later!" you say cheerily, handing it back to him before turning around to join jun in defeating seungcheol and jeonghan (who is most definitely cheating).

and between the increasingly raucous noise of the new beer pong game starting up and the pounding in his head that threatens to send soonyoung into the bathroom to do more than just pee, he has a single, striking thought.

holy shit... soonyoung is definitely in love.

[thestayathomedragon]

In which Luis indulges in his favorite past-time... playing with fire. :3

you and i were (fire...fire...) fireworks

“How do you do that?”

“Eh?” Luis looked up from the flame dancing back and forth between his fingers.

Leon had been watching him fiddle with his lighter for a little while now, pretty blue eyes alight, almost mesmerized by it. Luis might have showed off a little more than usual because of it. He might have done so because he liked the feeling of the other man’s eyes on him.

Though Luis started in the first place because he just needed something to do with his hands. He had always played with his lighter when he was bored, when he was thinking, when he was nervous… it kept his mind from spiraling out too far. It helped to feel smooth, warmed metal in his hands. It was something to remind him that he was here.

“That.” Leon said nodding toward Luis’s constantly moving fingers and the lighter jumping between them. The flame glowing faintly between them.

“Oh, this?” Luis gave him a slow, lazy smile from around the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. “It’s not too difficult, cariño. Not with a little practice. Wanna give it a go?” He said, flipping the cap on the lighter closed and offering it to the man sitting across for him.

Leon looked hesitant. Luis’s indolent smile became a sharper grin, energized by his growing excitement at the prospect.  

“Here…” Luis said, tucking the unlit cigarette, behind his ear before he maneuvered himself to sit next to the American. Both of their backs now to the same wall, shoulder to shoulder, highs touching. “Te enseñaré.”

Leon gave him a skeptical look, one pale eyebrow raised.  

Luis shook the lighter a little in the other’s direction, a hopeful smile on his face. “C’mon. It won’t bite… Well, as long as you’re careful.”

Leon sighed and took the lighter. “If you laugh at me, I’m gonna punch you.”

“Why would I do a thing like that?” Luis pouted. “Trial and error are the fun of learning. Especially, when you’re playing with fire, mi amigo.”

“Heh.” Leon gave him an amused smirk. “Okay then. Teach me, Obi-Wan…”

Luis snorted but began his instruction anyway.

“Now… hold it like this.” Luis said mimicking what he meant with his own fingers. “Treat it like your knife, get a feel for the weight of it.”

Leon tilted his head to look at him, eyes narrowed in question. It was as if he didn’t think Luis knew anything about knives or anything having to do with combat really. Luis had no idea why. Especially when what Luis did know had saved Leon’s pretty little ass more times than he was sure the agent would ever be willing to admit.

“Alright.” Leon nodded. “Show me how you did that thing with the thing with the… t-the thing. Y’know!” He was cute when he blushed.

“Oh, the thing!” Luis chuckled. “Sí, sí, por supuesto!”

They had probably spent more time than either of them realized working on the basics of lighter tricks, but it was nice to take their minds off what awaited them once they left the safety of these four walls. And of course, Leon was turning out to be a natural.

“You’ll have to teach me some tricks with that knife of yours one day, cariño.”

“Well, they’re not really tricks.” Leon said, eyes still on the lighter currently teetering between his fingers. “Damn. Almost…” The blond hissed when it fell the wrong way and burned his finger. He, of course, let it drop but Luis was fast enough to catch it before it hit the floor again. Poor thing was dinged up enough as it was but even after all these years it still served him well.

“…had… that.” When he looked back at Leon, the man was staring at him in surprise until he realized he was being watched. His expression turning sheepish around the burnt finger in his mouth. Luis was captivated by the way the other man’s full lips pursed around his lightly singed fingertip.

Leon looked younger like this, his features softened, eyes bright. Not that he didn’t look beautiful all the time. The man did have an impressive resting bitch face. But this was nice though unfortunately rarely seen. It was understandable considering their current circumstances, but Luis couldn’t help but wonder what the other man was like when he wasn’t on dangerous missions to save President’s daughters.

What was he like when no one’s life was on the line? Luis couldn’t help but think this was a precious glimpse of the man underneath the weight of this perilous responsibility.

Luis had always been a bit of a glutton when it came to his vices, and he already knew that he wanted as much of this Leon as he could get his greedy little hands on.

“They’re more of…uh… well they’re combat moves.” Leon said, still looking a bit boyish with his finger in his mouth.

“Can never have too many of those, cariño.” Luis said, offering him the lighter again, which Leon took, their fingertips brushing against each other.

Leon smiled at him, ducking his head a bit to hide the fact that his cheeks were still a bit pink, and his blue eyes were sparkling. He was having fun even if he would never admit it. “I could teach you some stuff. When we get out of here.” The blond sounded relaxed for the first time since they’d met, a hint of an interesting American accent coming through now. Luis wondered where in the States Leon was from. “Probably couldn’t hurt with all the trouble you get into.” The other man snickered.

“Me? Noooo.” Luis beamed, nudging the man with his shoulder playfully, almost causing Leon to drop his lighter again. “I am but a simple scientist. No trouble over here.”

“Hey, I almost got this! Cut it out!” Leon yelped. “No trouble huh? All trouble’s more like it.” He grimaced.

“My apologies, tesoro. Here. Let me see…” He took the lighter back intending to show Leon an easier way to maneuver it to hopefully not burn himself again.

Leon handed it over but instead of watching Luis’s hands his eyes were on the other man’s face. His blue eyes narrowed once again in question. “You know I know what you’re saying when you call me that… right?”

“No sé qué quieres decir.” Luis blinked at him, wide gray eyes growing wider, trying and failing to convey innocence.

“Oh, you know.” And was that a bashful little smile? Adorable. Who would have thought the deadly American secret agent could look so… sweet.

“Quieres que me detenga?”

Leon looked away and shrugged. “Me da igual.”

Luis chuckled, “Ah, el sabelotodo ¿Cuánto sabes?”

“Suficiente. Pensaste que me enviaron aquí sin estar preparado?” Leon grinned, looking very smug.

Luis threw his head back and cackled prompting Leon’s eyes to go wide and the other man to put his hand over the gleeful Spaniard’s mouth. “Shush! We’re supposed to be fucking hiding, asshole.”

Luis’s eyes were still crinkled in mirth. Not in the least embarrassed that he’d been found out. He started talking even from behind Leon’s hand, the words muffled until the agent rolled his eyes and removed it.

“Why didn’t you say anything, bastardo astuto?” Luis hissed, beyond amused by his companion.

Leon shrugged. “Wanted to see how far you’d take it if you thought I didn’t know what you were saying.” The bastard looked so smug—another good look on him. “So… ladies man, huh?”

Luis nodded. “Seguro! But I like to keep my options open. Especially, for beautiful American blonds. Mi debilidad!” Luis waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Leon snorted.

“Oh, you have done it now, Güero. I’m going to be shameless.”

“You weren’t shameless before?”

“You haven’t heard the half of it, querido.”

“Jesus Christ, Luis.”

“Oh, you love it! Why not say anything after all this time if you didn’t.”

“I told you! It’s because…”

“Eres mentirosa! Oh, you lie like a rug, Yanqui!”

“Would you keep it down, Serra! We’re supposed to be fucking hiding here.”

His delightful American accent was stronger when he was embarrassed. “Adorable.” Luis’s grin was feral. “Where in America are you from, Leon?”

Leon was taken aback by the question it seemed. “Why?”

“Porque voy a seguirte hasta allí y hacerte sonrojar así todos los días.”

“Oh… for… let’s go, Casanova. Looks like the break’s over thanks to your big mouth.” Leon groaned, hoisting himself up before offering a hand to the still delighted Spaniard.

“Te seguiría hasta los confines de la tierra, mi cielo!”

Luis yelped when Leon suddenly let his hand go, sending him back to the floor on his ass. “Mira cómo me enamoro de ti!”

“That’s it. I’m leaving you here!”

“Mi amor! Don’t be like that!”

Leon was still laughing though. That was something, right?

[brummiereader]

Arghhh....@peakyswritings!!! This was me throughout the entirety of this chapter 👇...

Nina, hun...you're driving me crazy 😭! Will these two ever stop this back and forth between eachother and finally admit that they like eachother 😩??

I don't normally feel sorry for Tommy 😈, but in the first part of this chapter, I couldn't help but feel his hurt at Nina's coldness with him.

A rebellious lock had escaped her braid, falling in front of her face, and he had to restrain himself from giving in to the temptation to reach his hand out and fix it. The scene started so beautifully, with him admiring her, stopping himself from brushing the loose lock of hair behind his ear then...boom!! Nina hit him with the... “I don’t recall anything happening yesterday night.” you know how you said Y/N from "Don't Fear The Reaper" would be end of you? I can say, without doubt, Nina will be the end of me 😂! I get it, it's a terrible situation they've both found themselves in having caught feelings for eachother when Tommy is supposed to be marrying someone else...but please 😩, Tommy's little hurt reaction was too much for me to handle 😭.

“But if that’s what you wanna do, then fine,” and there we have it. Tommy has matched her, and put back up his iron fenced wall. *Currently slamming my head on the table.

I really enjoyed the small conversation she had with her brother. And I have to mention that I loved how you described Nina's cheeks heating, thinking that if she turned to face her brother he'd know exactly what had occurred between her and Tommy. It felt like an incredibly accurate description to how most of us would irrationally think 😅. I know I've felt that way sometimes! It is honestly refreshing to read how her brother has always had her back throughout her childhood and still does. I'm honestly relieved that she was able to make things clear to at least one of her family members that she had no intentions of marrying that dickhead. And instead of arguing with her about. Her brother simply said, “Then you won’t have to,” 🥰 . Out of curiosity, which face claim is this brother? De Niro or Pacino ? I feel like it might be De Niro, but I could be wrong.

Oh god 🤦🏼‍♀️, here we go again 😂. Let's complety ignore the fact they we both want to smooch eachothers faces off, that we don't have strong feelings for eachother, and instead... Make things "clear" that the previous night was..."a moment of weakness, nothing more.” ok you two, I'll play along too 🙄😂. I love the slow burn between them, you've mastered it Reb. Slightly cruel on us readers 😈🤭, but so wonderfully written and paced.

he took ahold of the razor blade and ripped it off the cap. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Keep it.” foreshadowing?? Please tell me this razor will be used to cut a smile on Stefano's face. That bastard needs his comeuppance!

Another amazing chapter to this incredible series hun! Where are you taking us with this one 🤔?? I can't help but feel a LOT of drama is heading there way, and at some point they will have no choice but to have the conversation they've been torturously avoiding! Can't wait to see what will happen next 😍.

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VII

Summary: after failing to propose to Agnese, Tommy is given an ultimatum. But the events of the previous night only complicate things further, and Tommy and Nina are forced to have a conversation they can’t escape. Meanwhile, Pietro has something to ask his sister.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: the wait has been awfully long, and I’m sorry for that! I’m trying to find the way to be more constant with my updates🤍

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

Dividers credits

One week.

They had given him one more week of time to propose to Agnese, or else the deal would be off.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t expect it, though. He was playing with fire, and he knew it. When he had decided to go for lunch at Agnese’s house the previous day, he had indirectly made it clear that he’d finally propose. And that was the intention, at first. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Under the expectant eyes of Agnese’s family, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to pull the ring out of his pocket and ask that fateful question. Why was it so damn difficult?

That wasn’t how things were meant to go. He was supposed to go to Italy, court whatever woman they preferred, and get on with it. He’d stop the war, he’d help the Ferrantes in their own war with Sabini, and everyone would be happy. He would keep his head, and the Ferrantes would keep their place on top of the racing business - alongside with him. He thought he had considered all the obstacles that could possibly get in his way, and yet there was one he would’ve never taken into account. That obstacle had a name and a face. A quite pretty face, too.

He was fucked. He was utterly, inexorably fucked. After last night, he was sure of that. The worst thing was - he had been truthful when he had said that he didn’t regret it. Because he didn’t, not even a bit. It felt like all the choices he had ever made had brought him to that moment, to that kiss, to having her in his arms, to be enveloped by her warmth. And God, did he feel cold when she walked away.

He just wished Polly were there. She would know what to do. She’d yell at him, probably, maybe even slap him. But she’d help him. She was half of him, and understood him so much more than he understood himself. He hadn’t imagined it would be so hard to even function without her being by his side. However, he knew better than to write to her, because he was well aware that the letter would pass through other hands first. Those people trusted him no more than he trusted them.

After lunch, Tommy took advantage of the fact that Nina was washing the dishes on her own to approach her. He had the impression she had been actively ignoring him, averting his gaze and leaving every time he tried to get close to her, avoiding the conversation they couldn’t really escape. Leaning against the counter, he allowed himself a moment to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that frown that had now become so familiar to him, and that he had grown to find rather cute. A rebellious lock had escaped her braid, falling in front of her face, and he had to restrain himself from giving in to the temptation to reach his hand out and fix it.

“We should talk about what happened,” he eventually murmured, making sure to keep his voice low.

Nina’s posture stiffened, but her face didn’t betray any sort of emotion. “What are you talking about?” She asked, keeping on scrubbing a plate without sparing him a single glance.

He blinked, opening his mouth to say something, but words failed him at her question. Out of all the things she could’ve said, that one he didn’t expect. Collecting himself, he spoke again. “Yesterday night.”

“I don’t recall anything happening yesterday night.”

Her words caused his eyebrows to shot up, and he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Nina, we need to discuss-”

“You want me to discuss something I don’t recall?” She quickly interrupted him, not even giving him the chance to finish his sentence.

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and it took him more than a moment to shake off the annoyance. He couldn’t believe she was seriously doing that. It wasn’t just her words that managed to get under Tommy’s skin, but her completely indifferent attitude, and the way she was treating him as if she was doing him a favour just by giving him her attention. They had gotten so close he had forgotten how aggravating she could be. “You can pretend all you want, sweetheart. It won’t make what happened any less real.”

“Sweetheart.”

“But if that’s what you wanna do, then fine,” he continued, his tone switching to the one he reserved for business. Apparently, that was the game she wanted to play. But he was a good player, too, and he wouldn’t let her see how much her indifference stung. With a swift motion, he took ahold of his pocket watch, clearing his throat. “It’s late,” he changed the subject, with the air of a man whose time had been wasted long enough. “I have a meeting with your father.”

“Then go.”

Finally, Nina looked at him, eyes glaring with a silent threat to leave her alone. There was something else in her gaze, though, something he couldn’t quite read. It was frustrating, not being able to read her. He could usually tell about people, yet she stayed a mystery. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, there was always something that eluded him, a missing piece that prevented him from getting the whole picture. For a short while, they just stared at each other in silence, and Tommy was hit by the foolish need to feel her close again. It was as if the more Nina pushed him away, the more he felt himself drawn to her. It was overwhelming. So overwhelming that he had to immediately leave the room before he did something that would put the both of them in an awful position. He hated the way Nina’s mere presence was enough to make him lose any sort of power he had over his emotions, melting into dust the control he had worked to hard to achieve. He couldn’t afford to lose that control, not when there was so much at stake.

Fucking hell.

As soon as Tommy left the room, Nina exhaled, letting out the breath she had been holding under his stare. Why was it so hard for her to keep him at a distance? Why did it pain her to treat him as if she didn’t care about him in the slightest? Why did she care about him?

It was messed up. Absurd. She couldn’t get the events of the previous night out of her head. The scent of his aftershave, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, the tender firmness of his rough hands. Just thinking about it made her knees go weak again. No one had ever kissed her like he did, looked at her like he did, made her feel the things he had made her feel. She had never even thought it possible, and now there she was, replaying it in her mind again and again, craving way more than the mere memory.

It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

“Nina, can you come here for a second?” Pietro’s voice resounded in the kitchen, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Her cheeks heated as she felt as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to do. She hid it by staying with her back on him, under the impression that her betrayal was written on her face, and that just by looking at her he’d be able to tell what she had done. She put the last plate in the cabinet before drying her hands with a rug. “What?”

“Sit.”

When she turned around, her brother was sitting at the table, waiting for her to join him. Although he had spoken in his usual authoritative tone, there was something strange in his demeanour, a hint of uneasiness that breached through his facade of unwavering composure. Furrowing her brows, Nina took a seat in front of him, waiting for him to speak. The silence seemed to stretch into an eternity as Pietro clasped his hands on the table, visibly pondering his next words.

“I know about Stefano.”

The blood froze in her veins as her brother uttered those words, her heart thumping in her chest at implication that he might know what Stefano had attempted. She gulped, her throat feeling suddenly dry. “What?”

“Dad told me he wants to marry you.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief at his statement. She had no idea how he would react, if he’d keep her secret or tell their father about it, if he’d help her or blame her. Because even though in her heart she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t have the certainty that her family would think the same. Then his words sunk in, and it didn’t take long for her worry to turn into disturbance, her blood boiling at the sensation of having her strings being pulled, again.

“You want to convince me?” She asked with an undertone of accusation in her voice.

“I want to know what you want,” he said carefully, testing the waters. After a brief pause, which served to ascertain that his sister would listen to him and not verbally attack him before he could say another word, he started again, this time more firmly. “Nina, the balance between our families might shift at any given moment. A marriage between the two of you would avert any prospect of war,” he pragmatically explained, causing Nina’s expression to harden. But it didn’t take long for his mask to slip, and his features softened with understanding. “But that means nothing if you don’t want to marry him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then you won’t have to,” he leaned forward, and Nina could read the glimpse of a promise shining in his gaze. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her brother’s calmness, along with the assurance in his voice, managed to partially quieten the storm going on in her mind. But it still wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. He couldn’t really make that promise, after all. And as much as she deluded herself to have a say in what would happen in her future, Nina knew that if things went down she wouldn’t really have a choice. “It’s decided, in dad’s head. He said the choice’s up to me, but we both know that it’s not.”

She despised the undertone of resignation in her voice. She had never voiced that thought, she had never even allowed herself to indulge in it up until that point, but she knew that was just another addition to the pile of problems she’d have to face, sooner of later.

Pietro didn’t seem to intend to let the matter go. He leaned with his arms on the table, his dark eyes stubbornly looking for Nina’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”

That question was enough to make Nina falter. Did she trust him?

She used to, up until before the war. Blindly. They were so close she would’ve trusted him with her life. He was the one who convinced her father to let her finish school, he was the one who took the blame - and the punishment - for her wrongdoings when they were children, he was the one she turned to when she had a problem. Then he left for war, and never came back. But his eyes were telling her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would always have her back. And she wondered - what if she told him? What if she opened up and and shared with him the burden she had carried on her shoulders for too many years? Maybe he would protect her. Because fragments of the boy she grew up with were still scattered somewhere deep inside him, and that boy would do anything to keep her safe.

“Pietro, I…” she hesitated, shifting in her seat. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He frowned.

“I…”

He’ll blame you.

That thought poisoned Nina’s mind, stopping the words from coming out of her mouth. He wouldn’t protect her, he’d blame her. He’d tell their father, and he’d blame her too. Because if Stefano had gotten so obsessed with her, chances were she had done something to accommodate that kind of behaviour.

No one could protect her. No one would protect her. She only had herself.

“What, Nina?” Pietro’s impatient voice brought her back to her senses, and the weight of his stare was suddenly too much to bear. Gathering her emotions back under her control, she shook her head, brushing the matter off with the a gesture of her hand.

“Nevermind. It’s not important.”

Standing outside the door of Tommy’s bedroom, Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, debating whether to knock or chicken out and go back to her room. Or maybe she could wait for him in the kitchen. Maybe he’d join her, like every night.

No, he wouldn’t join her. Not after the way she had treated him. She had been childish, and insufferable. But truth was - she didn’t want to have that conversation, because talking about it meant admitting that something had, indeed, happened. That she had betrayed her cousin, her family. Herself. And she felt like a terrible person. However, Tommy was right. Pretending wouldn’t take back what was done, and her problems wouldn’t solve themselves. If she wanted to make things easier for herself, she should start somewhere. So in a fit of determination, she had left her bedroom and crossed the corridor, knowing that she needed to act before the urge to take back control of her life faded. It was safe to say she already regretted it, though. Finally, she mustered up the courage and delicately knocked on the door, her heart racing in her chest. There was some noise, then the door opened, and she was met with Tommy’s surprised expression.

“Can I come in?” She shyly asked, suddenly aware that showing up at his door in the middle of the night was probably a bit too bold, even for her. After recovering from his astonishment, Tommy moved to the side, allowing her to walk inside the room.

She hadn’t entered that room since before his arrival. It was somehow curious, to see how he had made himself at home. It was just like she expected it to be. Tidy, clean, and it smelled like his expensive cologne. For some reason, the belongings placed around it made him seem more human. The shoes paired on the floor next to the closet, the clothes for the next day neatly folded on a chair, the cigarette case placed on the bedside table, next to a flask. She would bet his gun was in the first drawer.

“How did the meeting with my father go?” She stalled, asking the first thing that came to her mind while she thought about how to start the actual conversation.

Tommy apparently wasn’t in the mood for small talk, though, because he completely ignored her question. Instead, his piercing gaze followed her as she took a few steps around the room, a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance on his face. It was clear to Nina that he was thoroughly fed up with her bullshit, and she couldn’t really blame him. As much as she hated to admit he was in the right, she was aware she was treading on thin ice. A heavy silence fell into the room, and Nina felt a faint sense of agitation starting to creep up on her. It wasn’t just the weight of Tommy’s glare on her that made her feel uncomfortable, but the feeling of general awkwardness that felt so unnatural between them now. Then a hint of doubt crossed his features, as if he had been suddenly struck by some realisation.

“Why are you here, Nina?” He squinted his eyes, taking a few steps in her direction. “Information? Is your family sending you?”

Nina felt like the rug had been pulled from under her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out of it as she was too shocked to put a whole sentence together. “What?” She eventually said under her breath.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Tommy went on, walking until he stopped right in front of her. “And I’ve been wondering why your family hasn’t had my head yet for not proposing. Are you hiding something?”

“What would I be hiding?”

“You tell me. Why did you get near me, eh?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. His accusation felt like a harsh slap to her face. How dared he say something like that after how close she had let him? After she had opened up to him about things she had never even admitted to herself? After she had let him see her?

Tommy regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. The hint of hurt behind the anger on Nina’s face made his stomach clench, and he cursed himself for how cruel he had been. Whatever it was that they had built over the last month couldn’t be some kind of farce, a trap set to act behind his back. It was too real, too sincere. And Nina wasn’t Grace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment of hesitation. “I didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it.”

Tommy looked away from her, as the pain in her eyes only added to the gnawing guilt eating at him. Guilt. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long while. He had become kind of numb to it, he often pushed it back without second thought, not allowing himself to dwell on things he could’ve done differently and things he shouldn’t have said. In his line work, guilt was a weakness, and a dangerous one. It had become way too easy to say, do and take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. Yet there it was, that strange, niggling feeling, stinging him like an annoying splinter.

Shaking off the mixture of anger and hurt, Nina took a few steps back, concluding that it was time to stop dancing around the subject. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner things would go back to normal. Straightening her back, she took on a facade of fake confidence, hoping it wouldn’t crumble as soon as Tommy’s eyes would be on her again. “What happened…” she started, drawing his attention back on her. “Was a mistake. We’ve…” she paused, carefully choosing what to say next. “…acted impulsively. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Tommy fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, pondering her words. “Right,” he nodded, returning his eyes to her. “It didn’t mean anything,” he confirmed, but something in his expression was telling her that he was only saying that to see her reaction, silently daring her to agree with him and keep on denying the existence of what was right in front of them.

“So we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” he repeated.

The silence of things left unsaid echoed in Tommy’s bedroom, but neither of them dared to break it, for they knew that once they took that step, there would be no going back. It had been just a kiss. They had cleared things out. Everything was normal again.

Nina took a look around the room, hoping that focusing on the small details would take her mind off that awful tension. It worked, to some extent, because her attention was soon grabbed by the only item that seemed to be out of place: the peaky cap lying on his bed. With slow, measured steps she made her way towards it, unable to hold back her interest.

“What I’ve said before,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded behind her. “I didn’t mean it. I know I said it, but I didn’t mean it. I need you to know.”

“It’s fine,” she said absentmindedly, observing how the razor blades sewn in it glistened in the dim light. “You know, they say it’s bad luck to put a hat on the bed,” she murmured.

“Do you believe it?” He asked with an undertone of skepticism in his voice, almost certain that Nina wasn’t the superstitious type.

“No,” she turned to face him with a half-grin, confirming his suspicions.

As if naturally drawn to the peculiarity of that choice of weapon, Nina looked back at the cap, but this time she couldn’t restrain herself from reaching her hand out to it. She wavered for a second, but then the curiosity took the best of her, and she grabbed it to take a better look at it. The crown of a King. She couldn’t help but wonder how many faces those razor blades had cut, how many eyes they had blinded, guided by the same hand that had handled her with such gentleness. She couldn’t picture Tommy losing his calm. He had a charm, a magnetism that clashed with his reputation, and he was so composed in the way he carried himself that it felt almost impossible to believe he was as ruthless as everyone said. And a shiver ran down her spine as she realised how little she actually knew him.

But it wasn’t fear. She hadn’t been scared of him the first time she had met him and she wasn’t scared now.

“Why do you keep them if you have guns?” She asked, handing it back to him. Although she didn’t believe that stuff, the thought of putting his hat on the bed didn’t sit well with her.

“We’re called the Peaky Blinders for a reason, sweetheart,” he explained, earning a glare from Nina as he brought back the pet name that had bothered her so much earlier that day. “And it’s a good backup if they take away your weapon.”

With a nod of her head, Nina quietly agreed with him. It did make sense. “I guess you can never be too safe.”

He uncovered the central blade, exposing it to the light. “My sister and my aunt always have one of these smuggled under the sole of their shoe.” Tommy paused for a few seconds, as if thinking about something, then he took ahold of the razor blade and ripped it off the cap. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Keep it.”

His unexpected gesture made Nina falter, but then she carefully grabbed the blade. The sensation of the cold metal between her fingers gave her an odd feeling of security, and she asked herself how something so small could cause so much damage. When she raised her gaze on Tommy, he was already looking at her, his blue irises deep with an emotion she couldn’t really define, but that disarmed her nonetheless. They were so close she could perceive the warmth radiating off his body, and she had no idea how that had happened. She could feel him, solid and secure, and the only thing she could think about was having his hands on her again, his arms enveloping her, his whole body pressed against hers.

Tommy wasn’t immune to that proximity either, and the urge of closing the distance between them was getting bigger and bigger. Her lips, her eyes, her scent, everything was calling him, and it took all the self-restraint he was capable of not to give in to the temptation. Why did she have to look at him like that?

Inhaling sharply, Nina took a step back, leaving a cold, painful emptiness in the spot she had previously filled. “It’s late,” she whispered, rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. “Goodnight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, starting to walk away. Driven by the unreasonable need to have her with him just for a little while more, Tommy moved to reach out to her, but his body froze in place as reason struck him like a blow. It was pointless. They were nothing, they would always be nothing.

So he let her leave.

Heart, Body and Soul tag list: @zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark @kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4 @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse @citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @outlanderuniverse @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat @red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[vespertine-legacy]

That shit hurted.

Raz has seen how you “share,” Valkoriate, and she’s not gonna play that game. And she feels like she’s on borrowed time now, anyway after the stunt with driving Marr’s ship through your son’s fleet, so, fuck it all, basically.

Into the carbonite we go!

[morguevampire]

(Un) Fortunate Encounters -Chapter 1

Masterlist for this fic

summary:  You already had enough shit to deal with in your life and probably could have done without bumping into a wanted Sokovian terrorist/criminal by accident. Of course this random encounter had to turn into a whole new mess but could it perhaps turn into something beautiful?

warnings/tags: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of torture, drinking, mild alcoholism, dark themes, slow build romance, not really Stockholm syndrome but that’s up for interpretation 

chapters: 1/?

word count: 1.062k 

pairings: Helmut Zemo x fem!Reader

author’s note: Hallöchen und Willkommen zurück!  I haven't posted anything in ages but I suppose I am back with quite a challenge for myself: a multi-chapter Zemo fic? I will try my best to actually finish this story and post (semi) regularly - in case people are actually interested. Please excuse the kind of cryptic summary. I have the story more or less planned out but I am quite spontaneous so I might just switch stuff around. Already working on the next two chapters tho :)

 As always, English is not my mother tongue so I am happy for any corrections concerning spelling, grammar and general sense-making. Also let me know what you think in general and if you are interested at all in me continuing this work. Thank you and Tschüsseldorf

You can also find this work on https://archiveofourown.org/works/43158162/chapters/108466263

Chapter One: Strangers

It must have been last Tuesday, you recall, while one of the detectives presses play on the security footage that they are showing you. You were storming out of the bank, you somehow managed to block your credit card and you were in a rush since you had to go fix it during your lunch break. God forbid you took an absence from work for stuff like this, your boss was an asshole.

You bumped into a guy on your way out, which you didn’t even fully register but apparently it was the worst thing you could have done because you’re currently sitting in an interrogation room of the fucking FBI because of it. The two detectives not so quietly knocked on your door this morning, all but dragging you out of your apartment – you were seen with a wanted criminal and brought in for questioning, while your apartment was being searched by forensics.

It’s now been almost two hours of “How do you know Baron Helmut Zemo?” and “What did he say to you?”. He apparently escaped prison again and was on the run leaving basically no traces. You told them time and time again that yeah, you knew who he was… from the news… but that you really didn’t recognize him bumping into you and had already forgotten the encounter a minute after it happened, so caught up in your own shitshow of a life. At least after the 10th time of trying to make it clear that you did not KNOW the guy they followed a different strategy in questioning you.

“Please, Miss, close your eyes for us and try to recall the moment. We really need details to get a lead on finding the bastard.”

You did as you were told. It was difficult; the fluorescent lights of the room already giving you a headache and the atmosphere rigid and uncomfortable but you really tried going back to that moment in your mind.

You remembered rushing out of the door of the bank. Not too many people were around. You were looking at your phone, checking the time to see you needed to be back at work in 10 minutes when suddenly you full on pumped into a guy in a dark purple sweater and gray baseball cap. Your phone slipped out of your hand and you remember that he bent down to pick it up at the same time as you. He mumbled a quiet “apologies”. He was quicker to grab your phone, handing it to you with a simple “Are you ok?” while intensely staring at your face, slightly tilting his head. Remembering now you could probably verify he had an accent, but it could have also just been that you now knew that a Sokovian terrorist asked you that question. You mumbled a quick “yeah, yeah no worries” and got up quickly. In your memory the exchange lasted maybe a few seconds but seeing it on the security footage it seemed to take ages until you were on your feet again heading away from the man. He even turned around to watch you storm off and quickly disappeared himself.

You could kind of understand why the FBI was suspicious about the encounter but you really did not have any useful information. Eventually, in combination with the lack of evidence in your apartment, they recognized you were a dead end and let you leave, simply warning you to stay in the country and to tell them should you remember anything useful.

************************

Once you got home you collapsed on your couch. The apartment felt strange, knowing just mere hours ago a team of men in white suits basically took it apart, looking for any kind of evidence that tied you to the man that bombed the UN.

You let out a big sigh that turned into a grunt and rubbed your eyes. You were exhausted and pissed off and maybe also a little bit scared. You couldn’t shake the feeling off that this wasn’t a simple accidental running into some stranger. This man was a mastermind. A villain. He had the brains to take out the avengers and yet he makes the mistake of bumping into some random woman all while getting caught on a security camera. What was he even doing at the bank?

Thoughts kept circling around in your head and what’s the thing a mindful, responsible adult with a good coping mechanism does in that situation? Pour a glass of wine and do some research on google. At least it was Friday night, so you had the whole weekend to come up with weird conclusions and maybe take one or the other semi-drunk nap. You opened your browser and in a Bella from Twilight kind of way simply googled “Helmut Zemo”. Random articles popped up, some pictures of him during his arrest and as with any brutal criminal there was of course a whole community of people romanticizing him. You looked down on his “fans” for justifying his actions but did you blame them for finding Helmut Zemo attractive – not really. You had to recall how he looked at your face while picking up your phone, brown eyes staring intensely into your own while a deep, quiet voice asked you if you were ok. And that’s when you shut your laptop and slumped back in your seat, groaning once again because what the fuck. Were you really that desperate and deprived of attention from the male species that you would let your thoughts go into that direction. No. It was time for bed, even if that just meant staring at the ceiling for however long it took exhaustion to overpower your restless mind.

The next morning you couldn’t really remember how you got into your pajamas or whether you brushed your teeth but your mind was still full of images of him. Coffee should help, you figured. You stared absently at your little Italian moka pot, contemplating the day’s activities when a loud crash suddenly erupted. Almost as if somebody just smashed down your front door. You startled, froze on the spot and became extremely scared. Was it the FBI again? Have they found something after all? Something that you weren’t even aware of? You were just about to turn around when something heavy hit the back of your head.

And everything went back.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

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

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[angstysebfan]

The Past Can Break You - 5

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: implied smut, angst is back

--

The next 2 weeks were amazing. Bucky really turned everything around and showed you that he was committed to you. It made you feel so much better. While you felt bad that he now completely avoided Dot, because she is still out of place, you didn’t feel that bad because you knew she was bad news. Whenever she saw you and Bucky together she would scoff and glare at you. It made you uncomfortable.

One day the whole Avengers team was called into a meeting to discuss an upcoming mission. Per Steve and Tony, everyone, except you, were needed. You didn’t like the thought of staying behind with Dot in the compound, but you were a team player, and wouldn’t argue. Bucky on the other hand let Steve have it with both barrels.

“Steve you know the situation with Dot. Can’t someone else stay behind?” he said to Steve.

Steve sighed, “Yes, I know this will be difficult, but everyone else is needed for their skill. Y/N’s skills aren’t needed on this mission. She agreed, so why are you fighting me on this?” Steve argued back.

“Of course Y/N won’t fight this, but I am trying to protect her from Dot. You remember how vicious Dot can be, and I don’t want her to upset Y/N when we just started to get back on track,” Bucky said.

“Look Buck, I get it. I do. But this is how it is. The compound is big enough that Y/N won’t need to be anywhere near Dot. By the way, when are you going to tell her that she needs to start looking for employment and another living situation. She makes everyone uncomfortable. Even Tony is starting to get annoyed at all her questions about FRIDAY, and he loves showing people how smart he is,” Steve asked.

“I-I don’t know. I mean I know I have to do it, especially after what she’s pulled, but I still feel bad for her. I mean she didn’t ask for this to happen, and doesn’t deserve to be thrown out on her ass, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ll talk to Y/N about it and see if she has any ideas. Maybe if we help setting her up I will feel better about it,” Bucky said.

“Yea, I know. Let me know if you need help. But we gotta get packed and head to the quinjet. And please don’t worry about Y/N. Your girl is strong, and she knows how Dot is. She will be fine. Besides, we are only gone for like 24 hours, what could happen?” Steve asked.

Bucky didn’t respond and watched as Steve walked out of the meeting room. He ran his hands through his hair, what could happen? He hoped nothing, but he didn’t trust Dot. It’s funny the way she is acting now didn’t bother him when he was in the 40s, but now, because of you, he sees that she is not as great as he thought.

Bucky sighs and heads to your shared room to find you packing his bag for him. He smiles as he walks in, “Hey baby,” he says.

You look up at him and give him a bashful smile, “Figured I would help you out,” you said.

Bucky walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. He looks into your eyes, and all you see is love and admiration in them. He leans in and connects his soft lips with yours. After a moment he deepens the kiss and you feel his tongue on your lower lip. You open you mouth in response, allowing him full access. When the need to breath becomes too great you pull away, panting.

“You’re only going to be gone a day,” you say with a chuckle.

Bucky also laughs, “Will you be ok? Here? With... her?” he asks.

You brush your hand through his soft hair, “Yea. I’ll stay clear of her as much as I can. But I’ll be ok,” you say.

Bucky pecks your lips again. “When I come home, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he asks.

You look at him with confusion, “Like what?” you ask.

“I think it’s time for Dot to go off on her own, but I don’t want to just kick her out and make her fend for herself. I was thinking you could help me find her a job and a place to live? I would just feel better if I know I wasn’t kicking her out with nowhere to go,” he asks.

You smile and nod, “Sure. I’ll be glad to help. I’ll start while you’re gone,” you say. 

Bucky kisses you one more time, “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you, Doll,” he says.

“I love you too, Buck.”

--

You have to say you are surprised when you find yourself not running into Dot at all. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to be near you either, which is fine. She has spent most of the last 24 hours in the lab, while you stayed in your room looking up possible jobs and apartment for her. 

You thought it was nice of Bucky to at least help set her up and not throw her to the wolves. It was something you admired about Bucky, his big heart. You both have been texting before the mission, but since then you haven’t heard from him. You hope everything is ok. 

“FRIDAY, any update on the team?” you ask the AI.

“No agent, I’m sorry,” she responds.

You decide to take a nap in hopes that when you wake up your boyfriend will be home. You want your family home safe and sound.

--

You woke up to the sounds of the team in the hallway. You walk out and see Nat and Wanda and hug them hello. You head toward the common room hoping to see the guys, but don’t. You walk back toward the elevator and heard something from Dot’s room.

“Oh Dot, I’ve missed you so much, Doll,” you hear Bucky moan.

You gasp in horror as you continue listening to Dot moan and beg for Bucky to go harder. You can’t help the tears that begin to fall as you hear your boyfriend and his ex having sex.

“So good baby, you’re so good. Taking me so well, you feel amazing. No one is like you, I love you so much,” Bucky moaned.

You’ve heard enough and turn, running back to your shared room. You can’t be near him when he comes in pretending he didn’t just fuck his ex. Your heart is in a million pieces as his voice continues to play in your head. All you hear is her and his moans and his words. He loves her. It will always be her. Maybe you just need to learn to accept that.

--

“Buck, I think you should have told Y/N you got hurt. She is going to be worried about you,” Steve scolded.

“Look, I know my girl. She will be mad at first, but then she will nurse me back to health. I will have to convince her to ride me later, but it will be so worth it,” Bucky says with a smirk as the doctor continues to pull out shards of shrapnel from his side.

“Seriously man? TMI!” Sam complained before leaving Medbay.

Bucky laughed and then hissed as the doctor pulled another shard out. “How much longer? I don’t want Y/N to think I’m dead if she knows we are back,” Bucky asked the doctor.

“One more piece... and....” she pulls the large piece out, “There! Now I will quickly clean and bandage. no stitches cause you will heal fast, but please no sex tonight. You might bleed all over her,” the doctor said with a glare.

Bucky and Steve laugh. “Oh I talked to Y/N about helping me out with Dot and she agreed. I figured it was best to have her involved with that situation from now on,” Bucky says to Steve as the doctor cleans and bandages his side.

“Good idea, less messy that way. I hope everything went well here with the 2 of them,” Steve says.

“I’ll find out,” Bucky says as he puts his shirt on. 

Both men walk to the elevator and head to their floor. They say their goodbyes in the hall as Bucky opens the door to your shared apartment. You aren’t in there, which confuses him, but he figures maybe you went to the kitchen.

When he walks into the bathroom he senses something is wrong. None of your toiletries are there. It was different from when you cleaned, plus his was still there. He walks back out to your room and sees that everything on your nightstand is gone too. Now he starts to panic as he goes to the closet and sees that all your clothes are gone. He tries to not have a panic attack because that will slow him down. He goes to head to the door and sees a piece of paper on the floor:

Bucky,

I guess I’m the stupid one. I’m stupid to think that everything you said to me was true. I was stupid to think that I could compete with your one true love. I was stupid to think that you really loved me. Well I won’t be stupid anymore. No need to lie and say what I heard isn’t true. I hope you and Dot are very happy together in your new apartment, but I’m done. Have a nice life.

Bucky dropped the letter and fell to his knees as tears pool down his cheeks. What the hell happened that you up and left him? You are angry with him, and he doesn’t understand why. He allows himself to cry for a moment before rereading it.

Dot.

--

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

Oh Dot you dirty bitch! Feedback is appreciated.

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[wannabe-fic-writer]

Moment In Time

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Just when you've gotten out, you’re given a reason to come back.

Warnings: Nothing for now unless I missed something.

Chapter 1

* * * * * * *

Music plays in your ears as the surrounding area blurs past you. Taking yet another lap around the overly large fountain, you feel the smallest drop of sweat trickle down the side of your head.

Running for two and a half hours seems to finally be yielding results.

You slow down some and a quiet, sarcastic, chuckle falls from your lips when another group of joggers passes by. They’d gotten here an hour ago and they were practically dripping sweat.

With a shake of your head you finish the lap in a matter of minutes, stopping afterwards and taking your headphones out. You take a few deep breaths as you look around.

The New York sky is as blue as it always is this time of year. People stroll by about a yard from where you stand, the streets and sidewalks bustling as usual, a few other runners on the same trail you just took.

A contented sigh leaves your lips.

For the first time in years, a calm peace washes over you. It’d taken you years to come to the decision to stop working, followed by a few months to mentally settle into your “retirement” as you’d been told it was.

The world doesn’t exactly need you anymore, earth’s mightiest heroes are doing all the saving and protecting now. Some of them you trust with your life while others you haven’t even met. All in all, you believe they’ve been getting the job done fairly well. Which made your retirement all the more easy.

If not working feels like this, you take another deep breath, you could get used to it.

Adjusting your headphones back into your ears, you barely jog three feet into your next lap when your phone rings. Fishing it out of your pocket, you sigh at the name displayed at the top and answer.

“Agent Y/Ln,” Fury’s voice floats into your ears,“ I need a favor.”

Just like that, you get the feeling you aren’t going to have the chance to get used to retirement.

* * * * * * *

Another uniformed guard walks by, his eyes glancing over at the two people in the cell, before he continues his leisure stroll down the hall.

The brunette archer runs his tongue across his bottom lip, eyes narrowing just barely before yet another pebble flicks across the cell and bounces off the wall right beside the ear of an already agitated ex-assassin.

“Barton, I swear to god if another rock comes within a foot of my face I will kill you before these morons even have the chance to consider it.” Natasha seethes, jaw clenching in frustration.

Clint snorts to hold in a laugh, raising his hands in surrender.“ My bad.”

Sighing heavily for the millionth time today, Natasha leans her head back against the cement wall, fingers gingerly running over the uncomfortable matching cement floor.

“You sure you don’t wanna play finger football with me?” He asks, flicking a triangular piece of paper towards his friend.

“Clint what the h-” she glares from him to the paper then back,“ where did you even get that?”

Letting his amused smile show, he answers,“ my pocket,” with a casual shrug,“ never know when you’re gonna get captured by psychotic evil German scientists.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, the red head holds in every noise of frustration and foul word in her arsenal. She already can’t believe she allowed herself to get captured, Clint’s incessantly childish behavior is only adding to her bad mood.

A mere eight hours ago she’d been on a very easy mission with her team. Infiltration and intel gathering was a form of work she was overly familiar with, having done it before and during her time with SHIELD and the Avengers.

But with a new recruit on the team, and this having been his first infiltration mission, figuratively communicative wires got crossed.

A simple “payload secure” came across as something different in Sam’s ears, what he heard she can’t even try to guess, but it led to him coming her way with a shit load of guards. Disgruntled sounds of fighting drew Clint to their location but even then the amount of enemies was overwhelming.

Distress calls were cut short and staticy through the short communication devices they had. So, being the only one with a clear and easy route out of the chaos, Sam was given the task to get out while he could and to send back up.

The seconds after he left, Natasha and Clint were taken, blinded, stripped of their weapons and comms, and brought to this cell.

While they were aware of the rescue coming for them, they still looked for a way out but found none. Especially not with the rotation of guards that patrolled by every half hour. Like clockwork, another was headed their way.

The whistling of an all too American song rang through the halls, slipping into the cell and grabbing the attention of both agents.

Clint’s eyebrows pinch together when the guard stops in front of the cell, then turns to face them. His calculating gaze trails over their body while an equally observant Natasha looks as well.

She stares at the guard, a stone cold expression masking her face as she commits your appearance to memory. Your eyes, hair, the build of your body currently clad in the same blue uniform as the other guards. Something was different though.

While the guards came off as exactly what they are, lackeys for whoever is running this show, you are much bigger. The look on your face isn’t as submissive and blank as the others.

Clint scoffs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes scanning over you,“ what’re you? A new hire?” He asks sarcastically, deciding to speak as he knows Natasha won’t say a word.“ Send you in to intimidate us?”

A silent moment passes.

“Buddy, you think I’m the bad guy?” You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. A little chuckle leaves your lips at the confused expression he pulls and the one Natasha tries to hide.

Taking a step closer to the cage, you slip your arms between the cast iron bars and lace your fingers together.“ I’m here to save your asses. Since you went and got yourselves captured.”

For the first time Natasha speaks, a velvety soft voice flowing from the cement box into your ears,“ who sent you?”

Her green eyes look into yours and that, coupled with her voice, intrigues you even more. Seeing as you are more than aware of who Black Widow is. But you know now isn’t the time to fall into a gay panic over a gorgeous woman.

“Fury.” You answer,“ it’s not often Nick calls in a favor so I had to come. Now, let’s say we get out of here yeah?” They both watch as you grab hold of the bars, pulling one good time, arms flexing as you easily break the lock and send the door sliding open and slamming into the wall.

Clint and Natasha share a look as you step inside, walking over to Clint and breaking his chains first, then going to do the same to Natasha.

You raise an eyebrow at her expression after breaking the first chain,“ listen red, you don’t have to trust me.” She stands up and looks down at you, until you rise up and look down at her.“ But you do need to trust Fury. Got any complaints, take it up with him after you’re not surrounded by a bunch of lunatics with guns.”

With that she watches you exit the cell, looking left and right, then waving them forward as you go left down the corridor.

The two agents follow you as you silently incapacitate every guard in your path, sharing a look for the third time today.

As you’re taking down your tenth guard, Clint looks from you to Natasha.“ Are we really supposed to believe they’re on our side? Cause,” he takes a deep breath and releases it.

“They’re trusted by Fury.” Natasha looks at her friend,“ and that’s all I need to know for now.”

Stopping in front of a door, you peek through the glass, then take a step back. You square your shoulders and adjust the cap on your head, smiling dazzlingly at the two.

“Do me a favor, wait around that corner,” you point to the opposite side of them where a dark empty pocket sits in the hallway,“ and try not to get captured again.” You wink and step into the room without another word.

They stare at the door you disappeared into, long enough to hear you speak.

“Wo sind die Gefangenen in Zelle 4 hingegangen?”

Natasha understood your words perfectly fine but Clint was a little lost. The short silence followed your continued shout of,“ Finde sie! Jetzt! Eile!”

Eyes wide Natasha grabs Clint’s hand and pulls them into the dark just before a slew of guards pour out of the room and down the same way you’d all just come from.

Clint and Natasha barely have a chance to blink before the door beside them opens. Sunlight streams through the door, followed by you coming out of the room.

“Figured you might want these back,” you say as you stop in front of them and hold their confiscated weapons out to them.

Clint is quick to sling his quiver around his shoulders, extending his bow and hugging it, a quiet ‘I missed you’ muttered under his breath toward the inanimate object.

A snort of a laugh leaves your lips before Natasha takes her batons from you and holsters them at her sides.

Taking your cap off, you toss it aside and smooth your hand through your hair.“ Cover was blown about thirty seconds ago so,” you nod to the outside,“ let’s get to that fancy jet you’ve got a few miles out before the fireworks start.”

Flashing another confident smirk, you slip out the door. The two agents follow closely behind you. All three of you work almost flawlessly in taking down the guards in your path to the jet.

It comes into view and you stop to let them run ahead of you, turning to look at the building as it seemingly spontaneously combusts in three specific locations.

Satisfied with your work, you nod and turn around. Almost all eyes are on you as you jog up the ramp into the jet. A silent crunch is heard before you toss crumpled plastic and wires out of your hand.

“Can’t have them tracing that back to us.” You say, stepping fully into the jet and looking around as the door closes behind you.

Stern blue eyes stare into yours, an almost upset march carrying him to stand in front of you.“ If there’s anyone alive.” He says angrily.“ Did you stop to think how many people you may have just killed?”

Your eyebrow quirks up at his tone of voice. Trailing your eyes down his body you mentally purse your lips and nod. Admittedly you could see why Peggy was so smitten. Assuming he didn’t take this type of attitude with her.

However you can’t say you’re taken with the Captain America. His already condescending attitude wasn’t something you liked and while you know it’s a possibility he’s just this way cause you don’t know each other, it’s also possible he’s just an ass. Either way he isn’t why you’re here.

“Captain,” you nod,“ always thought our first meeting would be more pleasant than this. But aye, they say you’re never supposed to meet your idols right.” You shrug and step around him, making to head to the front of the jet.

Only his hand grips your arm and he spins you around with a glare now on his flawless looking face.

Glancing down at the offending hand on your arm, you figure he’s nonverbally demanding an explanation so you give it.“ There were charges at both entrances and the security room. I made sure to send everyone away from those areas before I blew it up. There may be some minor injuries, if that. But next time I’ll just leave and give them every opportunity to come after us, Captain.” You tell him, gripping his hand in yours and prying it from your arm.

His glare turns to a slight look of surprise. While his grip hadn’t been enough to hurt an ordinary human, yours was equal to, if not potentially stronger, than his true strength. Enough force to have broken anyone else’s hand in multiple places.

“Who are you?” He asks, maintaining his attitude.

Not one for dealing with that, you mumble your name to him and go to the front of the jet.

Your blank face morphs into a smile at the sight of the man in the pilot's seat.“ Never was one to give up control huh?” You ask teasingly as you drop your hand on his shoulder.

His gaze lands on you with a quick snap of his head towards you. The smirk on your face and the fact that it was actually you, made him snicker.

Making quick work of throwing the jet on autopilot, he moved his chair back and stood up to pull you into a hug, to the shock and surprise of every member of his team.

“Good to see you T.” You pat his back before pulling away.

A smile tugs on his lips and he nods.“ Ditto. This doesn’t count by the way.” He points a finger at you as you clap your hand on his shoulder.

“It definitely counts. A save is a save. Might not have been you exactly but-”

Waving you off he mumbles,“ yeah yeah.” Then looks at his teammates, his arm wrapping around your shoulders despite the height difference.“ I take it you met the team.” He says to which you nod.

“Can’t say they’re all that fond of me.” You chuckle softly, eyes scanning over the still agitated Captain America, a man in a modified flight suit, and the two people you just saved.“ Are they always so annoyed when they get their asses saved or is it me?”

Tony shrugs,“ Capsicle always been a little icy.” He jokes and you laugh, shaking your head and pushing him away from you.“ Nat is- well she’s Nat. I think she’s starting to warm up to me but that’s taken quite a bit of time hasn’t it Romanoff?”

His gaze directs to the redhead and you follow it. Your eyebrow raises at the mocking smile she gives Tony followed by her asking,“ who exactly is Y/n and how do you know each other?”

Both you and Tony glance at each other and you take the liberty of answering her question. Speaking to her directly gives you the chance to truly look into her green eyes, which you must admit you find very beautiful.

A range of emotions flicker over everyone’s faces as you dip your toe into your long complicated past. You simplify your back story, only telling them that you met Tony his family, that you’re a super soldier, created after Steve went into the ice, and that you’ve been a part of SHIELD for a while.

There were many questions thrown your way and you heavily debated with yourself whether or not you wanted to tell them everything. You didn’t think it’d hurt to be a little mysterious. But there’s also the thought that you won’t be seeing these people much anyway so does it truly matter if they know who you are.

Whatever decision you’d come to ceased to matter as the jet landed. The door opened and your eyes raised to read the words written across the top of the building.

“Avengers?” You mumble, glancing at your long time friend/brother. He makes that face, that “what’re you gonna do” nonchalant face Tony always makes. With a shake of your head, you follow him inside, but instead of going with him towards the hallway, you b-line for the elevators.

Tony’s voice calls out to you, effectively grabbing the attention of his teammates,“ not joinin us Y/nn?”

You look back over towards him, your eyes landing on Natasha’s green ones first then on Tony. Smiling a little you shake your head,“ debriefing isn’t for retirees, Stark.”

Natasha frowns at your words and Tony shakes his head with a breathy chuckle.

All of you turn away from each other, them heading to the meeting room and you facing the elevator as the doors slide open.

“Agent, glad you could stick around for the debrief.” Fury says, making you frown and shake your head.

“No no,” you raise a finger, essentially telling him to hold up.“ I’m not an agent. Retired, remember.”

He stops walking to look back at you. Tilting his head, he raises his eyebrow,“ that was until today. I believe you did some work, seeing as Natasha and Clint are back.”

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you drop your head, groaning lowly,“ Nick please. You know-”

“That you’re on your way to the meeting room. Glad to hear it.” Leaving no more room to talk, he turns and walks away, breezing past the few Avengers who’d stayed behind to watch the interaction.

Grumbling under your breath, you follow after the man. Tony slaps his hand onto your shoulder, a small amused smirk on his lips as he guides you to the meeting room.

With a, in your opinion, justified glare directed at Fury, you plop down into a chair. The man snorts at the huff you let out, averting his eyes to everyone else who comes in.

To your surprise and silent pleasure, Natasha ends up occupying the chair on your other side. When her eyes land on you, you give a small smile and wiggle your fingers in a short wave.

Her eyes narrow at you and you wink. She just barely lifts a brow at the way your face morphs from one of amusement to a no nonsense expression.

You straighten up in your seat, fingers lacing together and resting on the table as your gaze focuses on Fury.

Natasha finds it a bit of a struggle to take her eyes off of you. Since the second she saw you back in Berlin she hasn’t been able to get a clear read on you.

“Romanoff, can I have your attention?” Fury tilts his head and looks directly into Natasha’s eyes.“ Or is that too much to ask?” His tone takes a sassy turn and the redhead rolls her eyes, focusing on him.

The debriefing goes exactly how everyone is used to it going. They go over the original objective of the mission, then everyone gives a run down of what happened: the part they played, how they contributed to the objective, and in this case how things went south.

“Y/Ln,” Fury says, making Natasha’s gaze snap over to you. Had you been looking at her, you would’ve seen the surprise flicker through those green orbs.

“Director,” you nod in reply before going into detail about your infiltration into the German base and the extraction of Natasha and Clint.

All while you talk, Natasha looks at you. You, Agent Y/n Y/Ln. She can’t believe she didn’t connect the dots. Fury sent you in. You’d told her your name. She should’ve seen it. Everyone at SHIELD knows who you are. A lot of people outside of SHIELD know about you as well.

Your explanation of who you were in the quinjet wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. She didn’t think this often of someone but: you are a legend.

“- things considered,” Natasha regains focus on the conversation, looking away from you to Fury as you speak,“ the mission could’ve gone off flawlessly.”

The man crosses his arms and shifts his weight,“ and what would you say the problem is Agent?”

“Underestimation sir. Or maybe misinformation.” Your response is a bit of a shock to everyone. You take their silence as an opportunity to further explain. You thought it was simple.

The mission was to grab intel from a science lab. As to be expected, the scientists and information there would be guarded. The underestimation or misinformation came in how heavily guarded the place was. Whatever surveillance or recon they had done wasn’t enough. So when they went in to collect they were overwhelmed or caught off guard which resulted in Natasha’s and Clint’s capture.

Everyone takes your words in stride, majority of them processing it and storing it for a time in which they’ll need to use it.

Shortly after that the debriefing ends with a few, what you know is meant to be taken as, encouraging words from Fury. Everyone stands after he’s left, starting to file out.

Once again as you make to leave, Tony stops you. He slaps your arm and you know he’d used as much force as he could behind the action.

Used to this from him, you sigh and shake your head, a small amused smirk on your lips as you look at him.“ What is it now Tony?”

He smiles at you,“ why don’t you hang out for a bit. Haven’t seen the tower yet.” You raise your eyebrow at him, gaze flicking to the redhead that walks past behind him, her eyes on you for a second before she looks away. Smile turning into a smirk he adds,“ you might just find a reason to stick around.”

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @yumusak-yastik

[mysticalrambling]

Ommmmgggggg i just read your lates story of steve rogers arrange marriage. And it was the most heartbreaking story evern written. It was really good although my heart got broken reading it😞I read you will take time in fulfilling request, so you can take a lot of time but I m making a small request🙃Like you have written lots of arranged marriage tropes but they all were angsty in the beginning, can you write something from your perspective on steve rogers arrange marriage which has no angst only lots and lots of fluff. like they are still in arranged marriage but there is no angst they are both trying for their marriage because after all the angst i guess a fluff treat would be nice☺only if you want to

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and the plot line is great. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it.

Perfect Life (S.R)

Steve Rogers Fan Fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Steve and you get married and you decide to give your marriage a fair chance. You both soon fall in love and you are really happy together. You get pregnant and it is all perfect till the very end.

Warnings: Some mention of blood and angst but otherwise it is all fluff.

._._._._._.

Steve and you were informed by Fury that there will be an arrange marriage. He didn’t give much explanation but simply stated that the government demanded it and you both simply had to oblige. When you were recruited by the Avengers, you were a super soldier just like Bucky under the influence of Hydra. It took a lot of work to get you back from the brain washed state and Steve played a big role in that. You both were partners in the field and best of friends. Many people thought that you both would oppose the idea but you didn’t. Sure, you were confused but you couldn’t fight it if the government ordered it. No one could so you thought you would give it a shot.

You simply asked for sometime to discuss it by yourselves and Fury reluctantly he agreed. He was prepared for a screaming match and being beaten to a pulp by the Captain and the super soldier. However, he was met with calm expressions and thoughtful gazes. It would be a lie if you said that you didn’t feel attracted to one another. So when he left the meeting room, Steve asked you out for dinner. Privacy was needed to discuss this matter and he wanted to do it outside of the compound.

“Are you ready to go, (Y/N)?” Steve knocked on your door at exact eight o’clock. Captain America never liked to be late.

“Yes, I am.” This was the first time he had seen you in a dress. It hugged your curves just right and the maroon dress contrasted beautifully with your skin. You simply looked like an angel. A devil disguised as an angel that it.

“Let’s go.” Steve took you to your favorite restaurant and you felt a little flutter in your heart when you realised that he took notice of the little things.

Clearing your throat, you started to come to the point of the dinner, “So what do you think about this marriage?”

“Um... I am okay with it, I guess. What about you?”

“Same here. I have actually liked you for sometime now and I would be willing to give this marriage a try.”

“I like you as well and same here.” You chuckled when you saw a light blush appear on your partner’s cheek. He found your confidence endearing and that was one of the things that he first noticed about you.

“Okay, good. I just want a simple ceremony with our friends present. Is that okay with you?” There was no point in beating around the bush and so you started the discussion of the wedding arrangements.

“I was thinking the same thing. Let me just text Fury that we are going ahead with the marriage and then we can discuss the rest.” You both enjoyed the dinner to the fullest whilst making small conversation. This was the first time that you actually had fun on a date after hydra and same goes for Steve. They couldn’t keep up a conversation with you when they didn’t know the things you go through on daily basis.

“Do you want to get ice cream? There is a really good ice cream parlor down the street.” Getting out of the restaurant, he helped you get in to your jacket.

You always had a sweet tooth and you were a sucker for ice creams. Steve and you were going to make a good couple because of your similar taste. “Yes, I would love that. So do you know anything about the mission tomorrow?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y detected some illegal shipment coming from one of the abandoned hydra facilities. We think that it is being occupied and you and I are just going to go there and install some cameras for surveillance.” He ordered two scoops of butterscotch and you decided to take a walk while eating.

“What if we encounter some hydra bastards? Do we get to kill them?” You rubbed your hands together in excitement at the thought of ridding the world of hydra scum.

“No, we don’t. We can’t engage so don’t get too excited about it.”

You both reached the compound and all your friends were waiting for you in the lounge. They all pounced on you as Fury had already informed them about the marriage. Natasha had already planned out the bachelor party while Pepper had booked an appointment with the world’s known fashion designer. You kept laughing at all their thrilled expressions and you were feeling sure of your choice by the minute.

The night passed like it and before you know you were off to the mission. Steve was extra protective this time as he won’t let you move a step forward before double checking the hallways first. You just rolled your eyes but you still found it pretty darn cute. No one has ever cared for you like this. But what you didn’t realise was that there was a secret doorway in one of the halls that you passed and you were quickly ambushed by four hydra agents. You got into your super soldier mode and took on the two to your right while Steve went for the left ones.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)? Cap?” Tony’s voice filtered through the comms.

“We have been ambushed but we have it under control.” You talked while slicing the jugular of a blonde six foot man and kicking the other in the shin. Steve also had it under control as he deflected all the attacks with his shield and threw punches when he got an opening.

“Okay. I have agents on standby if you need them.”

“Copy that.” After about five minutes, you had dealt with all of them and got away with only a couple of cuts and bruises.

“Let’s go to the infirmary together.” Steve purposed the idea when you refused Tony’s order to go get checked by the doctors. He didn’t want you to feel like he was ordering you around but he cared about you a lot.

“Only if you insist and Cap, we are getting married at the end of this week.” Kissing him on the lips, you left for the infirmary while he stood there with his mouth agape.

The whole compound was a mess for the whole week and Tony had benched you and Steve because apparently, the bride and groom can not be injured on their wedding day. You were over the moon about this new chapter in your life and so was your fiancé. This was the best thing that has happened to you in a while and you were glad. The ceremony was over before you even knew it with you both reading out your own vows and kissing sweetly when the priest announced you as husband and wife. You loved every minute of it but you were glad when it was over.

“I just wanted to tell you that we can take it slow if you want to.” As soon as Steve entered the room, he tried to clear things up before they got uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to. I told you I had feelings for you and they have grown ever since.”

“I love you, (Y/N). I know it might be too early but-”

“I love you too. Now, kiss me.” You spent the night with your husband and it was perfect. He made you bed in breakfast the next morning and you just enjoyed the whole day with your husband. It was truly a blessing to have Captain America as your husband because he was truly an honest and a moral man.

The next few days for you were spent as a newly married wife and it was perfect. Your friends threw parties and took you both out for dinners; their treat. You didn’t go back to your job for a couple more days and safe to say, it was peaceful. The days were spent with your friends as you all lounged around in the theatre room. At night, it was just you and your husband and it was much more entertaining.

“(Y/N), I have to go on a classified mission with Buck. Are you going to be okay at home, all alone?” Steve kissed the top of your head as he placed the pancakes in front of you.

“I am not going to ask what it is about but I need guarantee that you are going to back to me in one piece.” You mumbled while shoving pancakes in to your mouth. A girl needs her food.

“I will, promise. Love you, babe.”

“Love you too.” There was a moment of silence before you contemplated about what to do with your day.

Entering the kitchen, Tony asked. “What are you doing?”

“Just resting.”

“I am in mood of some homemade cupcakes. Want to bake them with me, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, I suppose. Have nothing else to do.” You were worried about Steve because it had been a long while since he had gone on a mission without you.

“Cap is going to be just fine and Bucky is with him. No one can win against that metal arm. My invention is state of the art.” Seeing you distracted, he tried to ease your worries. Pretty soon, you indulged into the whole baking thing and time passed you by.

“Hey, I am home.” Steve was shocked to see the whole kitchen filled with baked goods; counter, oven top, coffee table and chairs. Tony and you might have gone a little overboard with the whole baking thing. It was a good distraction so no one should blame you.

“Hi. You are alright.” A sigh of relief escaped you as you crushed him into a hug.

“I never back down from a promise, princess.” He tucked you under his left arm and picked up a muffin with his right. “What do you want to do today?”

“I was thinking we can go to the amusement park today.” You turned in his arms to give him your puppy dog eyes. He could never say no to you then.

“As you wish, princess.” You both quickly got ready with you wearing a sundress that reached your mid thigh and Steve in a simple black t shity and jeans.

The amusement park had been fun up until you decided that you wanted to go on the roller coaster. The moment it fell downwards from the sky, you looked pale and horrified. For someone who was reluctant to go on the ride, Steve was quite enjoying himself. When it stopped, you found the near trash can and hurled violently. Afterwards, you decided to stick to the slower rides. By the end of the day, you were on a ferris wheel with your husband by your side and your favorite ice cream in your hand. You kissed on top of the ferris wheel. Cliche but that was exactly what you were going for. This was all perfect and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I love you so much.” You whispered lazily as you laid in the bed with the blankets wrapped around you snugly. Today was wonderful but tiring.

“I love you too. (Y/N), have you thought about kids?” He asked reluctantly as he knew that it had only been a month in your marriage. It was a little too early but he just wanted to know.

“I know that they are in my future but I want to wait a year or two. I want to spend sometime with you alone.”

“This is the same thought that I had. Just wanted to get this out of the way.” Kissing you sweetly, he called it a night and dozed off to sleep.

Three years passed you by like they were nothing, Maybe it was because you were too happy. Of course there had been lows in your life like when you and Steve were on the verge of divorce because you were starting to drift apart. But you both worked through it and you were happier ever since. You almost died once in a mission and you weren’t able to get off the bed for three moths. It was painful and Steve was with you every step of the way.

However, there were too many good things that tipped the scale in your favor. Like when Steve brought a puppy as a gift for your first anniversary, Milo. Your love from him only grew afterwards and when you both found out that you were pregnant with your first child, you were over the moon. A tiny version of you and Steve was growing inside of you and it was the best feeling in the world. Labor was extensive but you got her as a reward. Rebecca Grant Rogers.

“Can you please go see her? I fed her about an hour ago.” You kicked your husband out of bed and he whined before getting up. Sleepless nights were finally getting to you both.

Gently cooing to the three months old, Steve picked her from the crib. “Hey bubs. What happened? Did you have a nightmare?”

“Mmmmm” Becca babbled on as she saw her favorite person in front of her. The four month was attached to his hip and you loved the bond between them.

“Let’s go to our room and try to sleep again.” You had drifted to sleep but you stirred awake when he came back to bed with your daughter in his arms.

“She is not going to sleep?”

“No, this little bug just wants to spend time with her parents.” A toothless grin adorned her face as she kept her icy blue eyes on her parents.

“Do you want me to make you laugh, huh, baby?” Tickling her, you got a smile on your face as she laughed out whole heartedly. She was the mini version of Steve but there were hints of you in her as well, like her chin or her smile.

Time passed by and soon it was 3 in the morning. “Let’s sleep now.”

“Yes. We have to go on a mission tomorrow and Nat and Wanda have said that they will babysit Becca for the day.”

“That’s nice.” Steve laid your little girl in the middle of the bed and you both put your arms around her. It was peaceful and you were content with your life.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, babe. Sweet dreams.” You thank Fury everyday for the decision of getting you two married. Your life was just perfect now and nothing could change that.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

._._._._.

A/N: I loved writing about Steve and I am open to requests now. I will be working on my own drafts alongside it. You can send in requests but it will take some days for me to get to them:) Love you guys and do tell me if you want to be added to my taglist.

Tag list: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 16

Masterlist

Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤ Make sure you read Roman Profile, set in the same universe!

Word Count: 6.3k

Recommended song: “The Thrill” by Wiz Khalifa & Empire of the Sun

Your Saturday gets off to a great start when you spot Sylvie lurking in the corner of the garage. The woman pointedly raises an eyebrow at you when she notices you, the simple action setting you on edge. You glare at her in return, having none of it while Pierre suits up.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" Pierre places his cap backwards on your head. You smile, adjusting it so it's out of your eyes.

"I will." You glance over his shoulder before chastely kissing his cheek. You'd deal with Sylvie later; Pierre didn't need any distractions when he was about to get out on track.

"Nope, not acceptable." Pierre kisses your lips, completely unaware of the shit you'd likely catch as soon as he was gone because of it. 

You sigh and take half a step back. Having none of it, Pierre places a knuckle under your chin, tipping your face towards him.

"Sylvie making you nervous?" The pad of his thumb sweeping over your jaw gives you something solid to focus on. "I can ask her to leave if she is."

You shake your head. "Not nervous, no. But she's getting under my skin."

Pierre sets down his helmet and waves off Pyry who tries to shove it back in his hands, prepared to address the matter and hash out a solution immediately. "What's going on?"

"It's not a big deal," you try, "I can tell you after practice. You've only got a few minutes until lights out."

"I want to know now, mon amour."

Fighting was pointless. He would stand here until you spilled the beans so you might as well get it over with so he could get out on track. "Fine. Sylvie cornered me Thursday and asked me to lay low this weekend because of some interview you did. She gave me a copy of it but I didn't read it. She said it's bad for your image to be seen doting on me when you've got races to win."

Pierre blinks, head swiveling in slow motion. Sylvie watches your interaction like a hawk, waiting for either of you to slip up. "And you kept this to yourself?"

"I didn't want to distract you. You've got a job to do." A blush creeps up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks. "Sylvie was mad enough at me, I didn't want her in your face too."

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "That's bullshit. I stood up for you. That's why she's pissed. I told them you were just as important to me as racing."

Your heart somersaults in your chest. "You said that in an interview? Pierre, that's-"

Pierre drops Sylvie's stare and meets yours. "I love you and I won't apologize for it. I don't have time to talk to her now though- are you okay being here with her until after practice?"

"I'll be okay as long as you top the time charts," you tell him, a smile playing on your lips. When you'd gotten back together you had told yourself nothing would come between the two of you again, up to and including nosy PR agents who couldn't keep their hands out of your business.

"I will, just for you." Helmet in hand, he pecks your cheek before heading to the car. Pierre shoots Sylvie a glare and says something to Pyry before clambering into the car.

Pyry doesn't leave your side for the entirety of practice, chasing off Sylvie each time she tries to approach you. Pierre nearly tops the charts, sitting second fastest on the famed street circuit. Only Max clocked a faster time, which didn't surprise anyone. Pierre's side of the garage erupts when he is wheeled inside and is met with claps on the back and wide smiles from his team.

Confidence radiates from him as he peels off his helmet and thanks his team. A grin from ear to ear splits his face as he makes his way to you before he even bothers to unzip his suit. Before you know it he's swept you in his arms and planted a kiss on your lips.

"It's not first, but I'll take second if you're waiting here when I get back."

"It's only practice," you remind him, swiping away a bead of sweat from his neck with the pad of your thumb. "But you drive like that for quali in a few hours and you might get your first pole."

"What did I tell you?" Sylvie hisses, ruining the moment and sending you crashing back to earth. 

Instead of falling into line, Pierre's grip on your waist tightens. "Leave her alone, Sylvie."

"This isn't good for you," the woman insists. "People are saying you've gone soft-"

"I don't care what they say. My results speak for themselves." And they did. Second fastest today in practice, despite Monaco being a track that Pierre generally had a poor record at. "When I start slipping to the back of the pack you can talk to me about it. But even then it's out of your wheelhouse. I don't care what the gossip columns have to say about me-"

Pierre breaks off and you can see the pieces clicking in his head. "You've never cared either, not even when I got demoted. Horner put you up to this, didn't he?"

Sylvie straightens under the weight of Pierre's question, good enough as giving him an answer. "I have a job to do."

"And so do I." His words freeze over, his attitude icy. "How about you back off and let me do it? I don't need another person breathing down my neck. And she certainly doesn't either. And you know what? I'll make you a deal. If I win tomorrow, you leave us alone and keep your nose out of my personal life."

"You'll thank me when your name is out of the tabloids." Bewildered, you stare after her until Pierre's lips meet your temple, the simple gesture sending a tingle down your spine.

"I wish it was easier for us," you murmur, placing a hand on his broad chest as if you were the only two in the garage. "But as long as I have you, it's worth the fight."

"Don't let it get to you. You make me a better racer, no matter what anyone says. You taught me that I have something to fight for. You're the one that picks me up when I don't think I can make it. Without you, I probably would've blown my chance at taking seventh in the championship."

"And I'm the one that tells you when it's time to get your ass back in the car and race your heart out." You grin up at him, not caring for a second who was watching this time when you kiss him. "I expect you to be a pole sitter next time you're back in this garage. I might have already told my mom it was happening, so don't make me a liar."

"If I take pole, will you wear my cap again tonight? Just my cap?"

"That could be arranged."

**********

Pierre may not have taken pole, but qualifying fifth was more than enough reason to treat him to fulfilling his request. With only the Red Bulls, Charles and Hamilton ahead of him, you were confident he could at minimum hold his position, and at best his team would come up with a strategy that saw him undercut one or two of the guys ahead and put him on the podium.

As usual, Pierre gets to the circuit a few hours early to clear his head and walk the track one last time. Since it’s not a mandatory part of his race preparation, you take the opportunity to walk with him. The clouds part just enough for the sun to shine down on him, practically glowing in the light. Apparently not even the celestial bodies were immune to his beauty, coming out solely to appease him. Your gaze eats up the curve of his throat as he tips his head back to enjoy the golden rays warming his skin.

“Beau Rivage,” he murmurs as you come up to the right hand bend. “One of the few spots for overtaking, if you’re lucky.” Pierre studies the pavement, noting where patches of gravel had built up and toeing them with his shoe. His commitment was something to behold; not even Max could be bothered with a track walk on Wednesday, and forget about waking up with the dawn to participate in an optional one on race day.

Pierre was different though, throwing himself into the sport and refusing to commit anything less than a hundred percent. That commitment was one of the things that had drawn you to him in the first place and continued to be something you admired. You missed him when you were apart, but hearing the thrill in his voice when he spoke about racing lines or braking points never failed to remind you that he was living his dream and you would never stand in his way.

You thread your fingers through his, soaking it in as he walks you through the track. This wasn’t an opportunity you had often and you were determined to embrace and enjoy it.

“Massenette and Casino Square. This braking zone is tricky, if you go too wide you’ll lose seconds of time and probably a good chunk of your front wing, unless by some miracle you miss the barrier.”

Having little to offer to his assessment, you rest your head on his shoulder as you walk. You try to see the track through his eyes, picturing the cockpit around you as you attempt to pick out an adequate braking point.

You continue on in amiable silence, stopping once or twice so Pierre can take pictures with fans and chat with them. Eventually you come to a corner you recognize, one of the most infamous.

“I know this one.” You puff out your chest, holding an imaginary microphone to your lips. “The Lowes hairpin. Slowest corner on the calendar. The cars decelerate to 65 kph, a feat achieved nowhere else.”

Pierre throws his head back and laughs, making your heart stutter. You never wanted to go another day without hearing the full-bellied sound, rich and rife with more happiness than should be humanly possible. “You only know that because Crofty and Brundle bring that up every race, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” You beam back at him when he shakes his head, the action more to say I knew it than to express disappointment. Because he could never be disappointed in you, especially not for taking an interest in what he loved. You tended to queue up archived races to listen to in the background as you studied, meaning it was inevitable that some of the quips from the commentators rubbed off on you sooner or later.

“Now this is my favorite,” Pierre says, adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“The swimming pool chicaines? Why?” They were considered boring by most racers, flat out but navigable by muscle memory if you’d had enough practice.

Pierre’s self assured grin leaves you in a puddle on the pavement. “Cause I’ll be jumping in that pool today, and I’m taking you with me.”

"I don't think so." You point to the hoodie you wore, one that you had stolen from his closet ages ago and since refused to give back under any circumstances. "I'm in irreplaceable gear. I don't want to ruin it."

Pierre rolls his eyes, dropping your hand in favor of slinging an arm around your shoulders. "I love it when you wear my clothes. My hat yesterday, my hoodie today, anything really. I love having that claim on you."

"If only I could get you to wear some of mine," you muse as the pit boxes come into view. 

"If you ask nicely, I'd consider it."

The garage is thrumming with anticipation before Pierre even enters. Checo’s engine penalty is all anyone can talk about, his subsequent start from the pit lane meant Pierre would effectively move up a place and start fourth.

Pierre is whisked away as soon as Tost spots him, the warm old man greeting you before stealing your boyfriend away. You know your way around well enough to be comfortable, staking out your spot along the back wall to observe the team's preparations. The early wake up call was quickly catching up with you however, your lack of movement causing you to stifle a yawn with the back of your hand.

"You look like you could use a coffee."

A young woman about your age steps into your line of sight and holds out a steaming foam cup. "Er, sure, thanks."

"Alana," she says, sticking her hand out for you to shake. "I'm one of the junior engineers for the team. I've seen you around once or twice, I figured it was about time I introduced myself."

"Thank you for the coffee, Alana." You lift the cup in mock salute and take a sip, the contents rich and flavorful. "I swear, I don't know what you guys lace this with, but it's addictive as hell."

The two of you share a laugh that earns you a few confused glances. "I think we're gonna be great friends," she says, tapping her own cup against yours. "It's nice to see another woman around the paddock. Sometimes it gets a little testosterone heavy."

You nod, taking another swig. You can practically feel the caffeine working, already a little more alert than you were minutes ago. 

"It's great luck." 

"Pierre moving up a place?"

Alana laughs, her ponytail swaying as she shakes her head. "No, I meant you being able to attend the race. You picked the best weekend to be trackside, the podium celebrations are the best."

Pierre startles you by snaking an arm around your waist and planting a kiss on your cheek.

"There's our star," Alana says, her smile bright and optimistic. "Better bring your team another trophy! The next one is going in the engineering department, they already have a little plaque made up and everything. I can see it right from my desk."

"Oh I'll bring one home," he replies, his hand casually grazing your ass as he moves to stand beside you. "I already promised her I would and I'm a man of my word."

"I know you will." 

"You have those time tables I asked about?"

"They're in the engineering suite." Alana hooks a thumb over her shoulder and smiles at you. "You're welcome to come back with us. He concentrates better when you're around anyway."

"Are you sure?" Red Bull never let you anywhere near proprietary data. You and any of Max's guests had always been corralled into the vip suite with the occasional venture down into the garage when they were wrapping up.

"You're part of the family," Alana explains as if it was obvious. "Of course I'm sure."

Pierre grins and gives your hand an encouraging squeeze. His team knew he wanted you near and they were willing to bend the rules to make it happen. "We'll try not to bore you to death." 

You sit through a half hour worth of numbers and codes you didn't understand, your arm slung around the back of Pierre's chair. He offers tidbits and asks questions while Alana and the other engineers walk him through scenarios, ensuring he has everything down. The way he spoke was quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever had the pleasure of witnessing, aside from post race Pierre with his sweaty hair sticking up in every direction and an adrenaline infused smile on his red cheeks.

Before you know it the two of you are ushered off to his driver's room, Pierre changing into his fireproofs and suit while you treat yourself to some of the snacks lying about. Pyry knocks just as Pierre zips his suit up to his chin.

"Hunt 'em down," you say, resting your forehead to his and stealing a moment for the two of you.

"Always do."

And god, does he ever.

Ten laps in, Hamilton is complaining about the balance of his Mercedes, the gap between himself and Max is only a few seconds and rapidly decreasing. The headphones you wear allow you to catch snips of driver radio and team communications, and you gather that Hamilton is slowly losing power. No one is sure if it's an electronics issue or an engine issue but they aren't complaining either.

Flawless pit stops from most teams see little shift in track positions, Pierre still holding fast to P4 a little over halfway through the seventy eight laps. Alpha's stellar strategy sees him rejoin fifth after sliding into the pits for a set of mediums to take him to the end of the race.

"Gap to Norris three seconds ahead," comes the voice in your ear. 

Pierre clings tight to the rear of Lando's papaya McLaren ahead, using DRS to his advantage and practically toying with the younger racer, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

Three short laps later, Pierre skirts around the McLaren at Beau Rivage and reclaims fourth.

Hamilton's ability to stretch tire performance to the maximum means he gets ten more laps before he's in the pits, Max closing in on his track position. The Mercedes crew stumbles, the pit stop more than twice as long as it should be, and Hamilton rejoins fourth.

"In the podium places," Pierre's engineer states.

Seconds later, white smoke pours from Max's Red Bull and he pulls off, causing a yellow flag and bunching up the pack.

P2, with only the Ferrari standing between Pierre and a win.

"Easy pickings Pierre, choose your moment."

Your heart pounds and your nails bite into your palms as Pierre goes around the outside at the hairpin, the entire garage shouting when he somehow gets away clean and the Monegasque backs off enough for Pierre to take the lead.

"P1 mate, two laps to go, two laps."

Pierre's brisk copy tells you all you need to know. He wasn't about to let this win slip through his fingers. Neck craned up at the screen, you watch as Pierre fights tooth and nail to fend off his friend, gasping audibly when a slight lockup nearly causes the two to collide around a chicane.

When he crosses the line, all you hear is a staticy scream.

Pierre Gasly, you are a Monaco Grand Prix winner!

It almost doesn't feel real how everyone around you begins jostling for the podium, their momentum carrying you along. A combination of luck and skill had seen him skyrocket to the top.

When you finally catch a glimpse of him in parc ferme, he stands atop the halo, arms spread wide amongst the deafening cheers of both Red Bull sister teams. Pressed between sweaty bodies, his team all push to the front to be the ones to congratulate him. 

You blink back hot tears. Pierre had fought incredibly hard to be on that top step, not just today but the entire season. Being demoted from Red Bull last year had been a backhanded blow, one that when coupled with his insistence on going back to the team in the future had warranted a feeding frenzy of media that ebbed and flowed as rumors surfaced. He'd been under the microscope ever since, struggling to keep his head above water but managing to come out on top.

Someone pushes you forward just as he takes off his helmet, his grin wild and unrestrained. Your mouth is open, his name on the tip of your tongue when a hand closes around your arm.

"This isn't your moment," Sylive says, near shouting to be heard over the roar. "No one wants to see you up there in the frame. This is his podium, let the media see that."

This woman really wanted to be knocked out, didn't she?

"He just won the prix." Dumbfounded at her audacity, you shake your head. "Leave us alone, he won."

"He could win the championship and I would still tell you to back off. There's hundreds of cameras out there, do you even have it in you to hold yourself together when they're all flashing at you?"

If she had asked you that question a few months ago, the answer would have been no, absolutely not. Now that you'd been to hell and back it was an entirely different story. You could walk through the throng and come out the other side unscathed if you had your best friend and partner at your side. He would shield you for the worst of it, be their punching back in order to make the burden bearable.

"Sylvie, if you don't get your hands off me-"

"Oh, sure," she says, releasing you with a smile. "He's already gone anyway. I only needed a minute."

Brow furrowed, you investigate her claim to find the truth of it. Pierre was already being herded away towards the podium, toweling off the residual sweat and setting his helmet on the provided stand. He throws one last glance over his shoulder before climbing the steps to the podium, his baby blue eyes cloudy when they should have been sunny.

Pierre's team principal calls your name as the boys take their places on the steps, gesturing for you to join him at the barriers. "Where were you? He was looking for you."

"No, I know," you start, shaking your head and gazing up at your racer. "Sylvie has it in her head that I shouldn't be photographed with him-"

"Say no more," Tost says, then pauses as the crowd claps. "I've never liked her."

"You and me both," you say under your breath as the anthems play. 

Pierre's hungry gaze scours the crowd for you, hands folded neatly behind his back while he bounces on his feet. When he finally spots you in Tost's shadow his shoulders straighten the tiniest bit, like he had been half expecting you to be absent. The pride in his posture is reflected in your smile, a fact that he picks up on and leverages to shine even brighter. 

Absently, you register the shutter of a camera going off as you beam up at Pierre. Your winner locks eyes with you before popping the cork of his champagne and spraying his fellow podium sitters, Daniel and Charles, before taking a long swig. Daniel blows a kiss to his girlfriend who mimes catching it and tucking it away while Pierre simply wraps Charles in an embrace, marveling in their first shared Formula 1 podium.

Pierre is surprisingly the first to leave, stalking off with his trophy and bottle in hand before the cameras have even stopped rolling. You track his progress, the crowd slowing him like he was a marble trying to sink through molasses. His thanks are short, his smile tight as he makes his way to you, eyes locked on his target and utterly unwilling to yield.

You meet him at the barrier which you still haven't been allowed to cross thanks to security taking their job far too seriously. Pierre doesn't care, tucking his trophy under his arm and unhooking a section so that you can slip through.

A laugh bubbles out of you when he wraps you in a bone crushing hug, lifting you off your feet and spinning in circles. Taking his face in your hands you kiss him passionately, wholly aware of the cameras on you. This was your moment to share with him; your universe had narrowed to his arms around you and the sweat-slick skin beneath your fingers.

"Congratulations," you murmur against his lips. "How's it feel to be a Monaco grand prix winner?"

"Better now that I've gotten to hear you say it." The brim of his Pirelli cap gets in the way when he tries to kiss you again and he turns it around.

"You gonna celebrate tonight, race winner?" The endearment works just as you had wanted it to, pride and something more primal flashing in his eyes.

His voice drops, his wicked grin already causing heat to pool in your core. "I have a few ideas."

"Me too." Now that the crowd has disappeared somewhat, you grow bold and nip at his lower lip. It sends a thrill through you to rile him up so publicly, his fingers tightening on your hips in surprise.

"Mon amour, you stop that right now." The slight shake in his voice betrays his true feelings. "I still have to weigh in and debrief."

"Maybe I want you thinking of me while you're there." You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning when he gulps. "Thinking of all the things I'll let you do when you get back to the apartment. Charles will be gone all night partying with Ferrari, I'm sure. We'll have the place to ourselves."

"We've got a full night ahead of us." He grins, tongue darting out over his lips. "We've got the winners dinner too."

You tip your head to the side. "Winners dinner? I don't-"

Someone calls his name and you both look in their direction. A race official, clearly fed up with your little display of love, waves Pierre over.

"Duty calls." Reluctantly, Pierre sets you back on your feet and passes off the champagne before he retreats to answer questions or whatever it was the official needed from him.

Watching him walk away, all you can think about is getting him back to the apartment. But first, you'd drag it out as much as he'd let you.

*********

Pierre spends the entirety of the debrief locked in an unending battle between thinking of you in compromising positions and actually giving feedback to his team. It wasn't his fault that you planted the seed in his mind; he couldn't help but expand on what your dirty little lips had whispered in his ear once he finally found you after the podium. 

"Okay, I think that's all we have. See you all at the pool in an hour," Alina says, and Pierre practically rips off his headset and sprints back to his driver's room. He bursts in without stopping to knock, earning him a yelp as you drop your phone on your face.

"Ow. A warning would be nice."

"I don't care," Pierre breathes, locking the door behind him and crossing to where you lay on the couch in a few long strides. "I've got an hour till I'm due to make an appearance for the cameras at the pool, care to make it memorable?"

"Oh, I don't know." You pick your phone back up and continue scrolling through it after giving him a once over. Leaving his race suit on and half undone served dual purposes: he didn't have to change again before the photo op at the pool and it drove you crazy. Apparently, his plan hadn't worked as well as he had hoped. "I kinda like seeing you all worked up."

"Come on," he practically whines, dropping to his knees to meet your glinting eyes. "Please?"

"I think you can wait." The corners of your mouth tug up and it's all he can do to resist leaning forward dragging your full bottom lip between his teeth. Energy still thrums through him, the adrenaline not yet faded.

Noting his stare, you roll your eyes. "Okay, one kiss-"

He doesn't let you finish, leaping on the opportunity to get a tiny sliver of what he wants. His tongue prods your lip and he groans when you open and allow him to explore. Hands glide over your hips while yours find his shoulders, nails digging in through the thin material of his fireproofs. Without breaking the kiss Pierre slots himself above you, a leg on either side of yours and caging your head between his forearms where they rest on the arm of the couch.

When he grinds his hips against yours in search of any sort of relief, you turn your head to the side. Pierre doesn't care, simply trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. The building could be burning to the ground around him and he wouldn't move, too enraptured by you to be bothered.

"Pierre, my love, be patient." You push lightly at his chest and he finally breaks away, chest heaving. God, he needed you. Hadn’t stopped thinking about you once since he crossed that finish line in first. "Where's that unwavering self restraint you show on the track?"

"I'm not racing." He possessed no self restraint when it came to you. In your presence every sane thought flew out the window, replaced by the sound of your laugh and the shape your mouth made when you said his name.

"Waiting makes it sweeter," you tease, the phrase jangling something loose in his brain. He had said the same thing months ago when your roles had been reversed. If he could go back in time and slap himself upside the head for uttering those words, he would.

Pierre sits up with a huff and pulls you into his lap. "No fair. I just won a race, at Monaco no less, and you're gonna tell me I have to wait when you're sitting here looking perfectly edible?"

You tip your head back and laugh. "I am, because I know you'll enjoy it more tonight."

"But we have the drivers dinner too-"

You put a finger to his lips, which he immediately bites softly. "Be patient. I know you can do it, big boy."

Pierre groans, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward to rest on your sternum. "I'm going to remember this."

Your traitorous fingers wind in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. "How about a massage while you wait, hmm? Would that calm some of this energy you've got built up?"

"No," he grumbles, pressing a kiss to your chest. "That'll make it worse."

"Well then I think it's a perfect idea." Pierre makes you work for it, forcing you to peel his hands off your hips one at a time before you can stand. "Fireproofs off and on your tummy, come on then."

Pierre obeys, eagerly tossing his shirt across the room. He knew he'd regret it and your teasing would leave his head spinning, but anything that got him closer to you was acceptable.

"Lay down." 

The command stirs something in his chest. He kisses you once before pillowing his arms under his head and allowing you to straddle his thighs. Your knuckles work at the stiff cords of muscle along his spine and he doesn't tamp down on the small noises of pleasure that start in the back of his throat. Once in a while you lean forward to press a kiss to his bare back, each one setting off a chain reaction in him that goes straight to his cock.

When you reach the base of his spine, he goes completely limp under your fingers. "Merde," he whispers, both a plea and a praise. "Right there, baby."

Something had been digging into his back during the race and it caused a knot to form by his left hip. A low moan escapes him before he can stop it and you hum in approval.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"So good," is all he manages to get out around the noise in his brain. His head is filled with your touch, reducing him to ash beneath you. You work at the spot until it's pliable, sweeping your thumb over it once more for good measure. You finish up with his back and move to his arms, dancing over the swells of muscle like you'd been a masseuse your entire life.

"God, where did you even learn this? You're better than Pyry."

"YouTube. And that's because it's different when it's someone you love versus your trainer. I can drag it out and let you enjoy it more."

He's completely lost track of time when the alarm on his phone goes off, signaling the end of this current round of torture.

"You know you're coming with me to the pool," Pierre says matter of factly as you climb off him. He stands and rolls his shoulders, bouncing on his toes. "I feel like a brand new man."

You guide his fireproof shirt back over his head after retrieving it from wherever you'd tossed it earlier. You zip his race suit up with a wink that almost makes hims say fuck it and miss the event entirely. "Glad I could be of assistance."

Hand in hand, Pierre leads you through the paddock and falls in with the Alpha team as they head for the swimming pool. Being around his crew again brings the excitement of his win back to the surface and he's practically buzzing with it by the time they arrive at the gate. Journalists, photographers and a few of his fellow drivers mingle about the packed space, some of them clapping him on the back and offering praise. None of it truly registers until Max, usually hot-headed after a DNF like he had suffered today, pulls him in for a hug.

"Great racing, mate. You deserved that one, that's for sure."

"You better play nice with him next year Max." You wag your finger at the Dutchman, earning you a chuckle. "Or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Now that's something I'd pay to see: you versus Christian Horner. A mighty fight."

Not wanting to jinx it, Pierre doesn’t comment on your confidence that he’ll be on Max’s team next year. His win today had seen him move up comfortably into eighth, and he was closing in on Lando quickly. As long as he played his cards right and finished higher up in the points, he was starting to think he could pull it off.

Pierre doesn't note Sylvie's approach until she clears her throat and all three of you turn in tandem. Pierre picks up on the way your demeanor instantly shifts from light and playful to defensive and he puts himself between the two of you.

"Photo op time."

"Right yeah." Pierre squeezes your hand in farewell and follows Sylvie to where a spot has been cleared at the head end. Standing there before the water, Daniel's dramatic belly flop comes to mind and Pierre knows he has to top that celebration or he'll never hear the end of it.

Someone- maybe you, he couldn't quite tell- starts a chant of his name, growing louder and louder until it reaches a fever pitch. His cheeks hurt from smiling so wide and he spreads his arms, his head falling back and eyes sliding shut as he lets the chant wash over him. Letting it sink in that he stood on the top step of the podium at the most legendary track in Formula 1, his name now joining the likes of Senna and Schumacher as Monaco grand prix winners.

He's drunk on it, on the screams and the shouts and the general feeling of being on top of the world and being untouchable.

Head dizzy, he searches for you, shooting you a wink when he spots you crouched right on the edge of the pool. God, you were gorgeous, wearing his hoodie with his logo splashed across the front and your cheeks flushed from the height of the moment.

Pierre takes a few steps back and gets a running start to leap into the pool, tucking his knees to his chest and cannonballing in. The water closes over his head and everything is dull for a split second before he pushes off the bottom and surfaces, cheers assaulting his senses in the best way.

Laughing, he shakes out his hair and poses for a few of the cameras pointed at him. In that moment he doesn't care what Sylvie or Christian or anyone for that matter thinks, all he wants is to share this euphoria with you, for you to be enthralled by it as he is.

The waterlogged suit makes it hard to swim but he manages, crossing to you and pushing off the concrete lip of the pool to capture your lips. Your hands immediately fly to cup his jaw as hoots and hollers surround the two of you as he irrevocably tells the world that you're his.

Alpha crew members take the kiss as their cue to jump in, splashing you with water as you laugh. Pierre doesn't give you a chance to protest, rising up and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you in with him.

You squeal in his arms, shoving against his chest as you both laugh. "Pierre!" His name on your tongue does nothing to dampen the feel of your waterlogged body against his, nowhere near as chastising as he knew you'd tried to sound. He loves you more than ever at that moment, wants to live here on this Sunday forever, replaying the past twelve hours for the rest of his life.

Celebrations continue around him, but he has eyes only for you. He studies the way your nose scrunches up when Alana splashes you and how droplets of water catch on your eyelashes.

Reaching out, he tucks a wet lock of hair behind your ear, garnering your attention. You ruffle Pierre's hair and he knows that you're just as caught up as he is.

Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he draws you in for another long, drawn out kiss. “You’re my trophy.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @lu-morningstar @ggaslyp1 @swiftyhowlz @xeniarocks @teenwaywardasgardian @saintandrea-droidsmuggler​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future updates!

[everwitch-magiks]

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

[knivesareout]

take on the world - chapter one

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, bad jokes, flirting idiots and Tom doesn’t exist.

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you by surprise when Frankie rescues you.

A/N: Well, here is the beginning of what is going to be a BEAST of a fic. There will probably be around 8-10 chapters in total and I’m already working on the next one (aka where the smut is). I will warn you all that this is going to deal with some heavy subject matter as we go along but I’ll put up proper warnings when they come. I hope you all enjoy and you can read it on AO3 here.

INSPO TAG | CHAPTER TWO

___________

There was a special place in hell for people who set their friends up on blind dates.

This wasn’t your first, or even your fifth, blind date in the last year that you’d agreed to go on to appease a happily married friend. This time it was Jessica’s husband’s co-worker who she’d shown you a picture of and you had wearily agreed, nodding as she told you how great he was.

He was in fact, not great, as he was now 30 minutes late and counting despite the numerous texts you’d sent him.

Thankfully the bar you were currently at was only a quick 10 minute walk from your apartment, a small miracle you were glad for. Surely you could stumble back the couple of blocks to your place if you decided to drown your sorrows in shots of tequila, a couple beers, and maybe a fruity drink or two if you were feeling spendy or particularly sad.

The bar was loud and, of course, overly crowded. It was a Saturday night after all.

Most tvs around the room were playing various baseball games at top volume with the season having only started a couple weeks prior. It wasn’t your favorite sport but you knew enough to keep up, eyes fixated on the Red Sox game just to the left of you.

“Need a refill?”

A cough sounds in your ear and you turn, realizing the question was meant for you. The man who’s taken up residence on the bar stool next to you is waiting for an answer, a distressed ball cap tugged low over his face and you wish you could see him better.

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, glancing down at the empty pint glass and back up again. When did you finish that? “Yeah, I mean. I need one.”

The man just nods, motioning the bartender over and he wordlessly clears your glass and sets a new one in front of you as well as one in front of the man next to you.

Muttering a quiet thanks to the bartender, you turn to the man in the cap and smile. “Thanks. Didn’t even realize I’d gone through it so fast.”

The man nods with a shrug of his shoulders, a slight smile on his face. “No worries. You looked like you were sucked into the game and figured I could help. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

Giving him your name, you reach a hand for him to shake- which he does. Rough, calloused hands envelope yours in a tight squeeze before he drops them with a cough.

You realize he must’ve been watching you before, if he knew you were with an empty cup.

Normally that was something you would find creepy because you were clearly alone, or at the very least weird but for some reason it’s endearing on this guy. Frankie. Out of the corner of your eye, you try to take in his features without being obvious, his attention now turned to the same game you’d been watching only moments before.

Dark hair curls outside of his baseball cap, a dimple embedded into his cheek on the right as he smiles. Patchy facial hair covers his jawline, bits of grey catching the light as he tilts his head back to take a swig of his beer and you wonder how old he is. At first you would’ve pegged him around your age, but now getting a somewhat better look he might have several years on you.

“Were you waiting on someone?” He asks, turning to you with his voice raised. A group of men are shouting in the back of the bar near the pool table and you wince.

You nod, downing half of your beer and swiping at your mouth. “Yeah. Blind date. I should know better but I can’t tell people no and he was cute.”

Frankie just laughs at your honesty, “So he just didn’t show?”

“Yep. Never had one that just didn’t show up. Figured I might as well get drunk to commemorate the occasion. Or commiserate. Either one.” You bring your glass up to his and cheers, shaking your head incredulously.

“His loss.”

You turn to Frankie with a raised brow, lowering your glass to watch him slowly check you out. You feel hot all over and clear your throat, teeth tugging on your bottom lip.

“What about you then? Here alone or did you ditch someone?”

Frankie presses a hand to his heart, fake wounded at your jab. “You already think so little of me? I was here with friends but they bailed on me,” he explains. “Saw you by yourself and thought we could both use the company.”

His answer puts you more at ease and you finish off your second beer of the night.

“So, figure I gotta ask. How old are you?” It really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things but if things are heading in the direction you hope they are, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable if you’re too young.

He seems startled by your question, like it’d never occurred to him to ask and he falters before answering. Did it make him uncomfortable?

“You know,” Frankie starts with a chuckle. “Normally, I’d be offended but I’m not. ‘M 42.”

Nodding, you blow out a breath that you didn’t realize you’d be holding. “Newly 30,” you tell him, bringing your refilled drink up to click against his own.

The age reveal doesn’t seem to bother him, at least from what you can tell. You’d never cursed your age before until now, hoping it hadn’t put him off.

You turn on the barstool to face Frankie, hoping to break the tension.

“So I have just one question for you, Frankie.”

He nods, turning to face you and waiting for you to continue.

You hold up a finger and place it on his jaw near his mouth, the one spot not filled up by wiry grey and black hair. His eyes are wide at your touch and he’s tense.

It was something you’d noticed right away when he sat next to you, your attention drawn to it for whatever reason. His terribly patchy facial hair was endearing.

“Why is this the perfect place for a kiss?”

The way Frankie looks when he laughs makes your heart ache in the best way. He tosses his head back, mouth wide as he tries to contain his laughter. His dark eyes crinkle, nose scrunched up at your blunt question and you retract your hand, satisfied with his response.

“How much have you had to drink?” He manages to get out between wheezing while he catches his breath.

“Couple shots of tequila while I stupidly waited. Two beers now, thanks to you,” you nod at the empty glass. “I might be drunk? It’s hard to tell, honestly. I think I’m fine.”

“So you’re just normally like this?” Frankie laughs, tilting his head. His fingers drum on the side of his almost empty pint glass, something you wonder is a nervous tick.

You push your empty glass away, hoping it’ll get the bartender’s attention and it does. Ordering Frankie another beer and a vodka cranberry for you, you turn back to him. “Guess so. If it’s too much though, I can pretend you never came over here and finish the game by myself.”

“Not what I meant,” he’s quick to tell you. “Just wanted to know what I’m getting myself into is all.”

Silently your lips tick up in a smirk and you start on your drink, turning your attention back to the game.

Over the next hour, you get to know Frankie and vice versa. He’s ex-Army; out for the last couple of years and he’s slowly getting back into the real world. Explains how he doesn’t have any family in North Carolina but all of his buddies live here, so he moved.

Frankie’s a helicopter pilot, giving city flyover tours to people coming in from out of town. He doesn’t love it but he loves flying so it’s enough for him, he tells you. You can see it in his eyes how passionate he is about flying and it makes you grin.

In turn, he asks about you. Normally you wouldn’t give up so much information about yourself to someone you don’t know all that well but Frankie has slowly started to feel like anything but and you feel guilty letting him give you so much only to get nothing in return- so you tell him. Maybe too much. About how your job working at a law firm is the most boring thing, especially when you had no interest in law. Which in turn sparks up his question- what do you want to do? That ends up setting you off on a tangent about your love of photography but how hard the industry is to break into to do it professionally or at the least get paid for it.

“Here, hang on.” You tell him, sliding your phone out of your back pocket and pulling up your Instagram. Social media was, normally, the bane of your existence but you used the app for your photos and nothing else, you tell him. He nods like he understands, telling you he isn’t much better technology wise.

Frankie’s quiet as he scrolls through your feed. He’s slow about it too, clicking on a few to see them bigger, and you bite your lip in anticipation at what he might be thinking. It’s nerve wracking to show anyone your passion and you manage to finish off your drink while he’s still scrolling, waving off the bartender as he asks if you want another.

“You’re fucking talented as shit, you know that?”

His response catches you off guard and you can instantly feel yourself getting warm at his compliment. It feels different, coming from him. A stranger who’s slowly becoming something more.

“You’ll have to let me take your picture some day,” you shoot back, kicking your dangling foot against his.

“You don’t have pictures of people on there though,” he’s quick to point out, handing you back your phone.

“Well no, but that doesn’t mean I don’t. It’s hard convincing people to hike with me is all.” Nature photography was your niche but you could already envision photographing a portrait of Frankie on a mountain with the sun illuminated behind him.

Frankie finishes off his beer and sighs loudly, turning to you with his brows raised. “Well, we’ll have to plan something then won’t we?”

You’d known that was coming and still, your stomach fills with butterflies as he all but asks you out. To see you again beyond this dark, crowded bar that smells like smoke and sweat.

“Definitely.”

Frankie asks if he can walk you home once the bar tab has been paid an hour later- he’s even covered yours too, in apology of your ruined date and unintentionally crashing your plan to wallow in self-pity afterwards.

“I’m just a couple blocks down,” you tell him, pulling your jacket tighter around your shoulders to combat the cool, spring breeze.

“No worries. Can’t complain about getting to spend a little more time with you,” he says cooly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

The line is smooth and cheesy but it still puts a smile on your face, which you’re sure was its intended effect.

You chuckle, turning to him so he can see the roll of your eyes. “Smooth, Casanova.”

Frankie puts his hands out in front of him in defense, scoffing at your jab.

“Cut me some slack, alright. Haven’t even dated a woman in years, let alone spent hours interrupted and talking with one,” he explains, knocking his shoulder with yours.

The little touch is something weirdly intimate and you cough, looking at him with a skeptical eye.

“I find that hard to believe, Frankie,” you chuckle, “You’re a good looking guy. Can even hold a decent conversation. No dates? Really?”

He shakes his head, shrugging. “Wasn’t in the right headspace for it. And now that I am, I just so happen to meet you and who knows. Was it fate?”

You spot the teasing tone of his voice immediately and you shove him lightly as you start to approach your apartment building. “You’re an ass,” you tell him, giggling as you try and pull your keys from your pocket, fingers fumbling and they drop to the ground with a clang.

You both reach down at the same time, heads knocking together and you can’t stop yourself from laughing. Laughing so much your chest aches with it and you can’t breathe, tears pricking the corner of your eyes and you glance over and Frankie’s no better, clutching his stomach as you both sit on the ground around your fallen keys.

“We’re a fucking mess,” you manage to get out between left over laughter and catching your breath.

Frankie lets out a loud breath, trying to calm himself and he nods in agreement. Picking up the keys, he hands them to you and stands, offering you a hand that you gladly take and try to steady yourself once you’re safely back on your feet.

“You alright?” He asks, running his hands over your hair and brushing at the crown of your head. As if he’s inspecting you for any injuries and you hold your breath.

The best you can manage is a nod, eyes flicking to meet his and you search them for any sign that he’s feeling exactly what you are.

He is. Expressive brown eyes that tell you everything you need to know.

Frankie sighs, pulling his hands back from your face and groans. Kicking at the pavement and mumbling quietly to himself.

Has the moment passed? Did you not react how he was expecting?

Turning back to you, he gives you a self-deprecating smile. “We’re drunk,” he explains. His tone is apologetic and you wonder why he’s saying the words if he feels bad about them in the first place.

“Maybe a little,” you agree. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t had, what I’m sure is, a much better date than I would’ve if that guy had shown up.”

You can tell your words mean something to him. It’s like he’s got this loose energy that he doesn’t know what to do with. Like he wants to shout and scream and run down the street. It makes you want to know more about him- what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling.

Bouncing on his toes, Frankie hurriedly pulls out his phone from his front pocket and hands it to you. “I wanna see you again. Put your number in there?”

The phone is old. Flip-phone old and you laugh as you figure out how to program your number in there, adding your name along with a smiley face at the end before handing it back over to him.

“I had a really great time tonight, Frankie,” you promise him, fiddling with your keys. “Thank you for saving me from what was probably going to be a terrible night.”

“Me too,” he agrees, pursing his lips.

It’s like he’s deciding his next move and it catches you off guard when he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek.

Once there’s a fair amount of distance between you, Frankie heads down the sidewalk and waves. “I’ll call you,” he tells you, calling over his shoulder.

“You better,” you yell back.

Your grin is huge and you’re sure he can see it, even as he continues to walk backwards, watching you, and he disappears into the night.

---

Frankie calls the next day.

Phone numbers that weren’t saved in your address book were usually sent straight to voicemail but there was a nagging feeling deep in your gut to just answer it so you move to the edge of the sidewalk and out of the crowd and pick up.

“Hello?”

You catch a sigh and Frankie’s voice sounds over the speaker, bringing a smile to your face instantly. “Hey, it’s uh. Frankie. From the bar last night?”

Laughing a little, you nod to yourself. “Yeah. I remember you. Almost knocked me out when we bumped heads trying to pick up my keys.”

“Oh good,” he sounds relieved and you glance around as you wait for him to speak again, hoping the conversation was more than just chit-chat. “I know we just saw each other yesterday but I was wondering if I could see you again. Tonight maybe? If you don’t have plans. It’s fine if you do, I just thought I’d ask.”

He’s rushing through his words and you can tell instantly that he’s had to psych himself up to call you from his nervous tone through the receiver.

You don’t have plans and you’re more than eager to see Frankie again. Wondering if last night was a fluke and hoping that it wasn’t. Relationships weren’t your forte but maybe this was the exceptiontion. He was the exception.

“Yeah, I’d really like that Frankie. Just wanna meet me outside of my building around 7?” You chew on your lip nervously.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “That- that would be great. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you chuckle. “Bye Frankie.”

“Bye.”

Suddenly thankful that you were done running your errands for the day, you headed back home with a grin on your face that didn’t seem like it wanted to leave. Cheeks aching, you wondered what and if he had anything planned.

It had been too long since you’d gone on any sort of date. A real date; something planned and thought out unlike the blind dates you were used to. Frankie didn’t seem the type for a typical dinner and a movie, and something about that idea had you even more excited to see him. Everything about the situation with him was unpredictable: the chance meeting at the bar, to the walk home where you laughed harder than you could remember. There was clearly something there between the two of you and it was exhilarating.

The rest of your day was spent cleaning and daydreaming about the night you might have with Frankie. You wondered if this was how it was supposed to feel when you liked someone. The concept was foreign to you, your relationship history basically nonexistent. Was it possible that he was just as nervous as you were?

As 7pm rolled around, a text sounded over your phone and you leaned over on the counter to see Frankie telling you he was outside. Grabbing a light coat on your way out, you took a deep breath and locked the door behind you. No turning back now.

Frankie was dressed similarly to last night. Jeans, a t-shirt and a tan jacket that looked like it’d seen better days. His hat was missing and his hair looked soft, the ends curling around his ears. You greeted him with a smile as you walked out of your building and he nodded, rocking back on his feet.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” He asks, nodding his head as you both started to walk left down the sidewalk. “The fact that we met last night and we’re seeing each other again?”

You chuckled, “It’s weird in the sense that I’ve never done this before. Any of it. But no, to answer your question. I wanted to see you again and I am, so.” Shrugging, you turn to listen to him as you both continue to walk, keeping to the side.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I’ve met people in bars. Women. But it’s usually a one night kind of thing-,” Frankie stops himself and groans, running a hand down his face in embarrassment. “That sounds bad. Fuck.”

“Ain’t no shame in the game, Frankie. I’m not here to judge you,” you promise, pausing as you wait for the crosswalk sign to turn white so you can cross the street. “Where are we going, by the way?”

Frankie waits to answer until you’re both safely across the street and heading further into downtown, the crowds getting thicker and you push yourself against his side so as not to lose him. His arm finds its way across your shoulders to keep you close and he answers, leaning his head down closer to your ear. “There’s this bar and arcade thing down a couple more blocks that I figured we could spend some time at. Maybe head to the park after that and walk around. See where the night takes us?”

It’s easy to tell he hasn’t quite planned this out and something about that makes your heart race. He really had just wanted to see you, planning this as he goes only so you can spend more time together.

“The park can get a little murder-like late at night,” you point out with a laugh,

“That’s true. Well, we can always just see where the night takes us after we play a couple of games then if that’s alright?”

“That’s the part where you’re supposed to tell me you’ll protect me,” you poke a finger into his side and laugh. “But yeah of course, Frankie. Whatever you wanna do,” you reassure him. “I’m just along for the ride.”

The bar slash arcade was… something. You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t what you walked into. The building was packed to the brim; loud noises, slots and different game noises sounding from every corner, and a small bar was tucked in the left corner with a tv playing what looked like The Shining above it.

“Have you been here before?” You raise your voice, balancing yourself on his shoulder to get closer to his ear.

He nods shouting back, “Yeah, once. Came with a couple of buddies of mine. They’ve got some cool retro games in the back that we used to play as a kid. Everyone loves air hockey too, right?”

You can see the air hockey table he’s referring to. The black light makes everything under the table glow and it reminds you of the arcades off of food courts that most malls used to have. The skeptical feeling you had when walking in seems to fade away and suddenly you’re excited, wondering why you hadn’t been here before when it was so close to your apartment to begin with.

“Once the table clears, I wanna play,” you say, tugging Frankie towards the back where you see a racing game that looks familiar.

Frankie exchanges a few bills for tokens while you hold the two racing games and once he’s slid in the appropriate amount, it’s immediately turned into a competition.

As the screen starts to countdown to your race, you turn to him quickly with a proposition. “If I win, you buy me a beer.”

“I was gonna buy you one anyway,” he tells you, shaking his head as if he’d do anything less. “But alright. If I win, you have to give me a kiss right here.”

He annoyingly points to the empty spot on his jaw where his facial hair didn’t seem to grow, that you had drunkenly pointed out the night before, and you can’t help the loud bark of laughter that escapes your lips as you quickly nod. “Deal.”

You’re almost tempted to lose once the race starts, just so you can kiss him there. But deep in your gut you feel like there’ll be plenty of opportunities to kiss him there in the future so you don’t hold back. The routes feel familiar as you and Frankie virtually drive through them and you’re sure you’ve played this game before, years ago.

As you both reach the last lap and the finish line, you just barely win and pump your fists as you cross. The screen declares you the winner in big font, a trophy spinning in circles and you turn to Frankie. “So, about that beer.”

You two end up at the bar for a little over an hour. The barstools surrounding the area are a hot commodity and once you and Frankie are sat down, you’re reluctant to give them up, especially with the bartender keeping your drinks filled without having to ask.

Frankie tells you about his friends. Benny, Will, and Santiago. How they’ve kept him going since returning back to civilian life. He says they’re all one big support group to each other, knowing that even if it feels like there’s no one you could count on, one of them is always around. There’s a tightness to his voice when he talks about them, like he can’t believe his luck that he has such supportive friends. The clear despair on his face has your chest aching, and you squeeze his hand in comfort.

It makes you yearn for a friendship like that. Most of your friends are married and it’s harder to relate to them when you’re single and living in the city while they’re still living in your hometown with a couple of kids. You tell Frankie as much and he sympathizes and points out that you have at least one friend in the city now, shaking off the emotions of such a heavy conversation.

“Looks like the air hockey table is free,” you nod, seeing the table free for the first time that night.

Frankie nods, standing up to grab his wallet. “You grab the table, I’m gonna close out the tab.”

You quickly walk over, grabbing the two handles and knock a few tokens into the machine when the lime green puck pops out. Frankie joins you a few seconds later, grabbing his handle and standing opposite you.

“So, what are we competing for this time?”

You think for a moment, “Well, I don’t think I need another drink. What about if I win, you have to cook me dinner sometime this week? Maybe Wednesday?”

Frankie seems taken aback by your suggestion but readily agrees. “I can do that. And if I win, you have to cook me breakfast Thursday morning.”

His offer isn’t lost on you and you toss the puck onto the table with a smirk as the air starts to push it around. “You’re on.”

The match is filled with trash talk as you two play. You even manage to gather a small crowd of people around you, cheering you both on. It’s close. For every point you get, Frankie’s one step behind you. Your wrist is starting to ache and the countdown starts on the side, signaling the end of your game in the next 30 seconds.

“You’re gonna lose, Frankie,” you taunt, scoring another point and he tosses the puck back on the table and shoots it towards you as you block it, sending it back across the table.

Except you lose. By a point.

There are cheers for Frankie and slaps on the back as another couple takes over the table and you both move to the side to watch.

“I can’t say I’m all that mad that I lost,” you tell him honestly, glancing up and locking your eyes with his own deep, brown ones.

“It was kind of a win-win for both of us either way,” he agrees, nudging his arm with yours. “So, another date Wednesday night?”

You nod quickly, “Sounds perfect.”

--- Frankie walks you home a few hours later.

After the arcade, you both grab slices of pizza from a small place down the block and walk around, grease staining your fingers and tongues burnt from being so hungry.

Most people are tucking themselves back into their beds at the late hour, your watch showing it was coming up on 2am as you both approach your building.

“A successful first date, I think,” you turn to him, arms wrapped around yourself as the wind turns cold around you. You sniff as your nose starts to drip, scrunching it up and Frankie laughs.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against chest in a hug.

You savor the warmth as you press your cheek against him, then turn your head. “I should go inside. And you should head home, it’s so fucking late.”

Untangling yourselves, Frankie shoves his hands into his pockets and knocks his arm against yours. “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

Nodding quickly, Frankie shoots you a smile and turns, jogging across the street to where his truck is parked.

It’s like seeing him walk away pushes something inside you, itching to see him just once more and you call out to him quickly before he can get in his truck, “Frankie! Wait! I forgot something!”

He turns to watch you run across the street as he stands in front of the driver’s side door, looking at you curiously once you’re stood in front of him.

“What did you forget?”

“This.” And you lean over to press a kiss to the bare spot along his jaw, the sparse hair around it tickling your lips and you pull away with a grin.

Turning to glance both ways before crossing the street you call behind you, “Goodnight Frankie!”

NEXT CHAPTER

[the-huntress]

Little Moth - Chapter 1 - The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

[Hi guys, welcome to my fanfiction. This is a Resident Evil inspired fanfiction, I wanted to incorporate a number of my favourite characters, and especially our beloved Magnet Daddy. Slow burn, soft smut impending, beyond that who knows… But to be safe I will say that this is for 18+ years of age only. Let me know if you’d liked to be on a tag list for future chapters. Masterlist is pinned. Thank you to everyone that has read so far. <3]

Masterlist

Trigger Warnings: Mention of menstruation, swearing.

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg [18+]

Summary:

Your lifelong friend, Leon Kennedy, has mysteriously gone missing two years after the events of Racoon City. You make a discovery that could lead to his whereabouts; dare you enter the Village?

[Photos are my own] You weren’t sure exactly what you were looking at for a moment, arching your back forwards over the desk in the dimly lit room, the glare from the laptop the only source of light. Several windows had been left open on the screen, and despite the turmoil that Leon’s apartment had been left in, this was what had really grabbed your attention.

The most notable of which was a photo, the resolution was grainy, a scan from a black and white film photo, it looked almost like a foetus, but you couldn’t be sure. Was somebody pregnant? It was almost akin to the sort of photograph that expecting parents would show at a baby shower, but this was… different. You had a feeling of impending doom just by looking at this thing.

Next, another very grainy photo of a town, it almost looked like some of the places from back home in England; a church steeple, a castle or maybe a mansion in the distance? A quaint looking village in the snow. And lastly, a very cryptic email;

                                               10/10/2000

Leon,

Know not what I have done, but what I believe must be done now.

Half of the results of good intentions are evil; half of the results of an evil intention are good.

You have the information that you need, please make haste.

A friend.

Well, that’s ambiguous as fuck. You thought to yourself, pushing the chair back and pulling the lighter from the little band on the side of your cap. You reached to your shoulder and cursed. That’s right, you’d given up, “for health reasons”. Putting the lighter back you reached instead for your camera, a notepad and a pen. You’d been tempted to just take the laptop and the scattered papers, but after several years in the police you knew it was beneficial to leave things as they were. Your eyes flitted from paper to paper, taking notes of numbers, flights, times, place names, anything that you could until you’d filled a couple of pages. One page for practical info, and one page, now that you looked at it almost sounded like a fairy tale;

A village, four kings, four lords, and a mysterious ‘Mother Miranda’. You bit the end of the pen and pondered. It was like nothing you’d ever heard of before, what had he got himself into…

Several days ago you had received a text from the man himself;

‘Y/N I am going to be out of

town for a while, something has

come up. Please don’t worry,

will explain soon. Leon. X

P.S. I’ve left Timesplitters in

your mail box, play you again

when I get back! :] ’

And now here you were. You scoffed knowing he’d have had to pay double to send that one, but he was mad to think that you wouldn’t worry, he was like a brother to you, hell, the only family that you had. After a childhood growing up in rural England you had moved to the states with your father and stepmother when you were in those vulnerable years of your teens during the early 90s, but were lucky enough to have met Leon in school. The two of you had become best friends quickly, and even graduated from the same police academy. It was Leon that saved your butt two years ago when all hell broke loose in Racoon City, him and Claire.

You shifted on the collapsible chair in front of the usually neatly tidied desk which was now strewn with various papers and articles. Your thoughts of Claire continued, and you pulled out your Nokia, opened a message and then faltered. It was late. Later than late you realised, seeing the time; 02:08 AM. What am I doing? You didn’t want to wake her, so you put the phone back into the pocket on your belt.

You swept a strand of your hair behind your ear, the outgrown bangs jumping back in the way and you blew at them irritated. You heard a grumble and moaned, looking down at your stomach. Padding across the shiny, tiled floor you left the desk and headed to the kitchen, opening the fridge where you knew there would be left-over pizza. Sure, it was from over a week ago when you were last here hanging out, but hey, it’s pizza, right?

‘Ugh dude, always with the anchovies, why?’ you mumbled, flinging a small fish into the bin and mentally backhanding the back of Leon’s head. Of course, it was his side of the pizza that was left over, probably trying to stay in shape in case he bumped into ‘Ada’ again. You weren’t keen, but then, you didn’t trust her. You looked at your phone again, left on the desk besides the laptop, Leon would be much better off with Claire, but sadly you felt perhaps that ship had set sail long ago.

You went to sit yourself back down at the desk. CRUNCH “Shit!” Your eyes darted to your right knee. “Fuck… you’re not giving me a break are you.” Letting out a sigh you closed your eyes for a moment. Since you were a child your knee had given you problems. A few dislocations, hospital visits, insteps, braces and physiotherapy. You’d had to grit your teeth hard through every physical training session during academy, but you’d made it. Fortunately for you it wasn’t something that many people would be able to notice or spot. You could run for miles with no problem; it was the recovery time in the days that followed that was tough. You knew it was getting worse, and had been reading about how much longer you might have before you’d need a full replacement, but you knew that it could jeopardise your job, you knew you’d likely not get put on the jobs that you wanted, and the thought of being put into the office answering calls made your heart sink.

And then you spotted it, the corner of another window was sticking out from under the others, exposing the corner of a third photograph. Instantly recognising the symbol you felt as though you were falling.

“What…”

Dragging the window and clicking it to full screen you could see this photograph clearly; some kind of mural, was it in stone? It looked as though there were four crests, family crests maybe. And at the centre; “Umbrella.” You breathed. You stared at it for several minutes and quickly took a photo of the screen on your camera, no point trying to get that old thing to work, you thought, looking at the printer at the other end of the desk. You couldn’t help but smirk, memories of Leon trying to print page after page of game walk throughs, whilst trying to find all the secrets in your favourite action/ adventure game, and laughing your head off at him, mouthful of noodles spilling back out into the carton as a hundred pages shot out at him, flying all over the room with cheat codes for a scantily dressed version of the playable character.

You looked at the clock again, time to go. If you were going to do this, you needed sleep and to get going as soon as you could the next day. It might drain your bank account, but it would be worth it. You didn’t have a good feeling about any of this, and more often than not, your gut instincts were right. Grabbing your R.P.D jacket at the door, you took one last glance at the room. It really did look like a whirlwind had hit it, not like Leon when he was in a better mental state at all. You knew that when he wasn’t his best he’d reach a for a drink and then some, but you could see that nothing was broken, and it was mostly clothes scattered, some bits of equipment and where he’d clearly got the luggage bag down from on top of the wardrobe. Nothing to worry about in regard to kidnap or a break in at least; as if that was enough to stop you from worrying about whatever lay ahead in this ‘Village’.

It started to rain just as you got into your apartment building, and you smiled. You’d always liked the rain. Stopping to quickly check your pigeon-hole for mail and seeing nothing you felt something press up against you calf, rubbing itself against the tops of your boots. You looked down and grinned, scooping up a slender, black cat in one hand and kissing the top of her head. “I’m going to miss you Boo, keep an eye on my mail for me while I’m gone, you know how crammed that thing gets.” You winked at her as you set her back down outside Mrs. Little’s door and fished a sandwich bag full of the leftover pizza anchovies out of your R.P.D. bag. “You didn’t think I’d forget you, did you?” Leaving Boo hastily munching into her treats you jogged up the stairs, your knee twinged, but it wasn’t too bad. It just had its moments.

Your apartment was pretty standard for this part of the city; both you and Leon had left Racoon city some time ago, though it wasn’t far from here. It had been destroyed and bordered off and that was all there was too it. You had to tell it to yourself that way to cope. Leon’s apartment was slightly swankier, but then again, he did like his gadgets and liked to keep things tidy, when his thoughts weren’t somewhere else. You on the other hand were happy to know that while everything had its place, sometimes that place would be on the floor… next to the thingy and nestled safely under a cereal box; and that was okay! You picked up the thingy, and looked at it fondly, before folding it up and putting it away with the others.

Stretching and yawning you looked around you, making a mental note of what needed to be done; pack, shower, sleep. You’d get the tickets the next day, and some money too, you’d have to stop off at the currency exchange. What currency did they even use there? Equipment, keep it simple; knives, pistol, rounds, lighter, fluid, compass, torch, camera, medi-kit. A couple of spare pairs of clothes, and you had your light armour that also fit into the case. You knew the contents would raise suspicion, but you had your badge, at the end of the day another cop had gone missing, and your team knew too.

You whipped off the remainder of your uniform and jumped in the shower, the bathroom filling up with steam and bubbles quickly and you sang along to a few songs on the radio. Wiping the mirror to see yourself more clearly you felt all your insecurities flood to you at once, as well as seeing yourself for the natural beauty that you were. You pursed your lips, staring into your own eyes and promised you’d find him safe and bring him back. He’d yell at you for going in the first place, but you knew this wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. Traipsing out from the bathroom, you felt the cool air attack your flushed skin. You liked it, you were always a window open kind of person, no matter the weather, the fresh air just soothed you. Of course, that meant the odd moth now and again, like now as you heard the tiny body plummet time and time again against the spherical glass shade of the dim lamp besides your bed. Snuggling up into the loose blankets you smiled at the little creature and pulled the cord on the lamp, smiling again as you felt the moth settle on the side of your head.

After that you actually fell to sleep very quickly. It had been a long day after all; a 6AM start, patrol, arresting some juvies for petty crimes, followed by yet another zombie scare, (false alarm thank God), before filing up all the paper work and heading to Leon’s. Sleep fell like a veil of cool clouds, taking you in and raising you up into the inky blue skies of the night. The next thing you knew, you were butt naked in a dark green forest, dew drops shining on moss like a trillion tiny emeralds. Mist hung thick in the air, and thousands of tiny moths flew up from the ground? No. From you. You were raising your arms up to the skies, the moss covered forest floor moist under your bare feet and between your toes. Behind you the silhouette of a deer… antlers, but much, much taller. In front of you a pair of cold silver-gold eyes in the dark. You felt drawn, ever so drawn, taking one step forward, and then another, your arms coming down now, hands outstretched in caring caress, your heart swelled, your lips bloomed, taking in a short breath, and then; blood. Gushes of it, soaking into the moss, reddening Earth’s green carpet, and dripping down the trunks of the trees, the moths falling from the air around you, their wings sticking and stopping in the thick, red mess.

“Shit!” You fell back down onto your bed, several items around you also crashing down. Hand to your head, you looked wildly about. It happened again. Whatever had fallen this time had been heavy. You turned to see half the cutlery that had been lying on the kitchen tops now on the floor, and the knives and pistol that you’d placed earlier on top of the luggage bag were now in the middle of the floor. A sudden feeling of loneliness washed over you. The same dream, but longer, and this time with blood. “Shit” again, you put a hand to your pants, pulled the covers back and saw red. “Well, that’s one more thing I need to bring with me.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes, and throwing yourself back onto the bed.

Song Suggestion: ‘The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning’ by The Smashing Pumpkins

[all1e23]

Bad Habit [Pt.1]

Pairings: Biker!Steve x Reader

Series warnings:  Drug use. Violence. Smut so 18+ please and thank  – No smut this chapter. Sorry to disappoint

A/N:   Part 1! 800 years later. I’m doing my best to get my wips finished by the end of the year so fingers crossed I actually do so. Un-beta’d. So, uh, yeah. Be prepared for that. 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though! Thanks!****

Two weeks it’s been since his mystery girl came into his life, and Steve hadn’t seen or heard from her since she bolted out of the clubhouse’s front door before the sun had cleared the trees. At the time, Steve was disappointed. He had plans. There was a burning need for waffles and bacon and syrup covered kisses, the exchange of numbers, or the very least names and a plan for next time. All those wants quickly evaporated along with the dust those tires kicked up during the hasty getaway. In hindsight, it was probably for the best that morning played out as it did. If Bucky had been there to witness a girl running from his room at first light, he would never hear the end of it. Before the day was out, Bucky would have the whole clubhouse believing he ran another girl off. Thankfully, the only person to catch the escape was Sam, and he was doing everything he could to convince Steve to forget about it. Sam told him nothing good came from chasing a girl that didn’t want to be chased, but Steve has this feeling in his gut, this time wasn’t like before. 

Whoever you were, you were different. 

Maybe you had him under some sorta spell, and that was why he couldn't forget you. It would explain a lot. You captivated him from the moment you stepped into the bar, and he still saw stars long after you ran out the front door and out of his life. He never really stood a chance if he was honest with himself; Steve knew he was in trouble from the first glance. Two things were apparent right off the bat, you were going to be a handful, and it would be hard, if not impossible, to earn your love. Still, Steve chased after you like a novice sailor following a siren’s melody. He had no problem admitting he was willing to follow you out to the middle of the ocean only to find himself unable to swim in the dark waters you lived in.

In the past, Steve had a bad habit of falling too fast, loving quick and fierce. You would be his last. He just had a feeling things would go his way this time--if he could find you. 

As much as he wanted to see you again, he didn’t have any idea how to make that happen. He didn’t even know your name and had no idea where to start looking for you. Hell, he didn’t even know if you lived in Brooklyn. For all, he knew this could have been a stop on your way home where you already had someone waiting on you. All he had was the necklace you gave him, and that was a dead-end. It was just a one-night stand. He should toss the chain in a drawer and put that night behind him. Most men like him would. They would move on to the next girl and forget you existed. Steve, though, he’s stubborn (so says Bucky), and it’s a good thing he is because it’s always worked in his favor. 

Steve ran his thumb over the gold pendant resting against his chest and grinned as he watched you move around behind the bar. 

The one place he would have never thought to look. 

"Well, I'll be damned,” Steve whispered to himself, still watching as you talked and laughed with customers. 

Natasha mentioned she hired a new girl he hadn’t met yet a few nights ago, but without knowing his siren’s name, there was no way he could have connected the two. He had no idea that this Y/n was his Y/n. Now that he found you, he only had to get past the high walls you built up around your heart.

Steve parted the worn red leather stools to make room for him to lean against the polished wood, drumming his fingers impatiently along the bar top waiting for you to finish up with the man you were serving at the far end and finally notice him. You gave the stranger in dark brown leather a high squeaky laugh in return for the lousy pick-up line he threw at you. It wasn’t the same laugh, Steve knew. The laughter he memorized was light and airy, your whole body shook when it took hold of you, and it made your eyes sparkle in a way that could steal his breath like nothing else. Steve found that out early in the night when his beard tickled your inner thigh. The memory made him grin. He wanted to hate how fake you sounded right then, but it also meant you let him see a part of you you kept hidden from the rest of the world, and that was enough for hope. 

You turned around and stopped short when you spotted Steve standing there, grinning at you, looking just as pretty as he did the last time you saw him. He trimmed his beard, but it was still thick only cleaned up a bit, and those pretty blond locks tucked behind his ears made him look like a young boy. The tattoos on his forearm peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves and the black leather kutte resting over the snug burgundy Henley reminded you he was no boy. He was trouble, and he was looking to drag you into his mischief. That wasn’t going to happen, no matter how pretty he looked. It took a second for your brain to remind your feet they needed to move. Steve slid around the bar as you made your way towards him. 

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly, refusing to look up from the IPA bottle you were cracking open. 

"Came to see a friend of mine. His wife owns the place. I have to admit I thought it would be a lot harder to find you." 

Shit. You stopped mid pour and set the glass down, half full of foam. That would need a re-pour. 

No. This wasn't happening. Surely, he didn’t mean… No, no. No. 

"Wait..." You needed to know before you said things you couldn’t take back. "Are you talking about Bucky?" 

Steve tilted his head to the side. Now, that had his curiosity piqued. You could see him processing your question, and you knew exactly what he was thinking: Why did you know that Bucky was Bucky? It was rare that Bucky interfered in Natasha’s business at all. Everyone knew who her husband was and what he was, but it never went beyond James Barnes, Vice President of The Howlers. This sounded like you were… friends? 

You should have kept your mouth shut and walked away the second you saw him. 

"You know, Buck?" 

Buck... Oh, god. 

It suddenly all made so much sense, and you were such an idiot. 

“Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? I’m a decent person, aren't I?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling as if someone from the heavens would answer you. “This is so bad. Why do you have to be you?” 

You groaned and dropped your head to the bar top. Your one night stand was Bucky's best friend. Club president. Your Steve was Steve Rogers. The Howler’s MC President. The man who went on the road for three years and no one knew why, the one who went nomad and only returned home a few weeks ago. This was why you never let tequila make your decisions. You always end up doing something foolish, like charming bikers that will break your heart.

“I think this necklace of yours might be my good luck charm. Led me right to you, firecracker.” 

“Good luck or a curse?” You grumbled against the slick wood top. Steve hummed, clearly amused by the light chuckle that followed. You slowly lifted your head to glare at him, and he simply grinned back.

“Definitely good luck, sweetheart,” Steve assured you with a wink.

You refused to smile, and you certainly weren’t going to be the one that looked away first. You won’t give in to whatever he’s playing at. Steve settled against the wood and stared right back; his bright blue eyes glittered with amusement and something else that made your skin tingle and your inside burn with want. You recognized a young blond man from a night or two spent at Bucky and Natasha’s place strolled by the bar, only slowing down long enough to pat Steve on the back, but Steve didn’t even blink at the distraction. 

Nothing could pull him away from you. 

“Hey, Nomad. You comin’?” 

Nomad? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute Clint. I’ve got some business out here first.” 

You could hear Clint cackling as he walked down the long hallway that led to Natasha’s office. You wondered what the club wanted here and how often the club— and Steve— would be hanging around. Natasha said there wasn’t any overlap between the two. There was a moment of uncertainty and fear when she first offered you the job. You didn’t know if you could work for her if her business was mixed up in club business. That was until she assured you the club didn’t interfere in her affairs. That put some of your worries at ease, not all but enough to give you the courage to accept the job. Your last run-in with an MC was why you ended up south Brooklyn begging Natasha for a place to stay and a position. That was how you ended up working at Red Star and sharing a pathetically tiny apartment with your new friend Wanda. 

There was no one else, no other friends to run to if things go south again. This was the only second chance you were getting, and you couldn’t blow it on someone like Steve Rogers. 

“Thought your name was Steve?” 

Steve grinned.

“That’s my given name. These idiots call me Nomad when they aren’t calling me Prez or Cap. Stevie on occasion. Everyone’s got a nickname ‘round here.”

You’ve heard plenty about their nicknames and all the things they’ve done to get them. 

“I think I prefer Charming,” you mumbled, walking down a few stools to finally hand over a fresh, less foamy IPA to the grump at the far end of the bar.

Every time you moved, Steve followed you, dodging the bodies sitting and standing, and there were several times you had to tell your heart to shut up and keep the flutters to herself. It was becoming increasingly evident that Steve wasn’t going to give up easily. Seeing as how he would probably be around often, you needed to put an end to whatever storybook ending he was building up in his head. 

"You can call me whatever you want." 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the neck of two bottles between your fingers on each hand. 

“Can I have your name now?” 

“No.” 

Steve laughed. He just laughed as if there was something funny about what you had said. He didn’t seem annoyed or upset by your callus tone. If anything, he enjoyed it. Once your hands were free, he reached for you and circled his long fingers around your wrist, loose enough you could easily slip free if you wanted to, but you made no move to lose his touch. You didn’t want to draw any more attention towards the two of you than you had already. That was absolutely the only reason you were letting him touch you. It had nothing to do with how much you liked the feel of his warm, calloused hands on your skin.

“I could keep calling you my firecracker.” 

“I’m not your anything,” you were quick to correct him. 

“No, you're not,” Steve said with a grin. “We haven't even gone on a date yet.”

Yet! As if there is a chance it would be happening. He was sadly mistaken if he thought there was going to be another page to your story. You raised a brow, and Steve hung his head in defeat, but the smile on his face hadn’t changed when he finally looked back up. Something about this man made you want to hide in the safety of his arms and stop running long enough to see if fairy-tales were real.

That was why things between you would never work. 

“Why won’t you give me a chance, hm?” 

Because you're just like all the rest, pretty and dangerous, the harsh voice in your head screamed. It was probably better he didn’t know you thought he was pretty. He seemed like the type to focus on the compliment and ignore the rest.

“Mmm, I’ve played with bikers before. The ride is dangerous, dirty, and short-lived. The risk is never worth the reward.” 

That made Steve frown for the first time since he walked into the bar and your heart-clenched at the look of concern on his face. For a second, you thought about taking it back. Telling him he could be different and maybe he was a good guy with a half-decent heart—even if you didn’t believe it. 

“Sounds Like you're playing with the wrong bikers. My rewards are always well worth the ride, babydoll." 

On second thought, with lines like that, maybe you were right from the start. You weren’t about to fall for the same overplayed words he’s used on every other girl to catch his eye. It would take a lot more than a cheap shot to get you back in his bed. You leaned forward, ghosting your lips over his and slowly pulled back, grinning when he chased after you. You were starting to like this game, and that was begging for more trouble than your heart could handle. 

“All you bikers are the same,” you whispered, leaning across the bar practically nose to nose. “Sweet talk to get into a girl's panties, and then you’re over it. You all claim it’s love at first sight, but it never is. It’s about the chase, the high. It’s never about the girl.” 

Steve sighed. It didn’t sound annoyed, genuinely unsettled by your words, but he wasn’t irritated. More importantly, he wasn’t aggravated with you, but you were sure he felt sorry for you, which bothered you more.  When you dropped your gaze, he gently nudged your chin up with his knuckle until you willingly looked up to meet his eyes.“One problem with your theory, firecracker. I’ve already been in those pretty panties of yours, and I’m still chasing you. Did you ever think that maybe I’m not playing with you? That I actually like you?”  

The knot wedged in your throat made it impossible to answer. So you shrugged instead and let your silence speak for itself; no, you didn’t think that, and you didn’t trust him. None of what he said proved anything. It didn’t mean he was different. It just meant his rules were. The high would end once he won your heart, and you would be tossed to the side while he moved onto a newer, prettier skirt. 

Steve would get bored once he finally earned your heart and your trust, and that made him worse than the others. You would know. You pulled your chin away from his hand but stayed close enough to feel the heat from his hand.

"Go to dinner with me." 

"Steve--" 

"Y/n," Steve sighed playfully, grinning at the shock on your face. He knew your name, but he still asked for it? He shrugged, reading the question that was burning in your eyes. Natasha. She must have mentioned the new girl she hired, and Steve was smart enough to put two and two together. You weren’t sure you liked him knowing your name. He was that much closer to knowing all your secrets, and you couldn’t let that happen. 

"Go. To. Dinner. With me. Please." 

You hated how adorable he looked begging and pleading for only a few hours of your time. He was so cute, and you nearly gave in. Your head overruled your heart and reminded you exactly why you weren’t dating men like him. It only led to heartbreak, and you would very much like to avoid spending your nights crying over another beautiful biker who rode off with your heart. 

"I told you, I don't want anything serious. I’m not looking for more than what we had." 

"It doesn't have to be more than dinner, and I swear if you really don’t want to go on a date with this will be the last time I ask you. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, but I am dying to get you back on my bike. Next Saturday night, if you’re up for it. You can even pick the place if you want to. I promise it will be dinner only. No strings." 

"No strings?" you questioned, eyeing him for any signs of deceit as you did. There was none. Just an excitable puppy staring back at you, ready to give you whatever you wanted if you’d let him.

"Yeah, why not? We can be friends with benefits or whatever the kids call it nowadays." 

"Are we friends?" 

"We are if you say yes, darling." 

You could feel yourself giving in, and you already hated yourself for it because Steve was grinning victoriously, eyes bright, and pleading with you to say yes. You held up one finger ready with your conditions, and Steve quickly grabbed your hand, pressing a kiss to the back, lost in the excitement of what he already knew was about to leave your lips. 

“One dinner, and I’m not promising any benefits.”

Steve lowered your hand and tilted his chin an inch, so his lips were brushing yours when he whispered, “Good. I prefer to earn every one of those sweet whimpers.” 

Someone behind you cleared their throat, and you quickly yanked your arm back, bumping into the wall of bottles behind you, causing the glass to rattle against each other. Bucky’s eyes flicked back and forth between you, and it didn’t take long for him to put it together. A slow grin stretched on Bucky’s face, quickly turning smug. He knew about your one-night stand, not in any detail but that you liked your mystery man far more than you should, and you assumed Steve shared his thoughts on that evening.  You narrowed your eyes at the brunet when he opened his mouth, and it quickly snapped shut—grabbing the empty crates at your feet needing something, anything to use as an excuse to get as far away from both of them as you could. The fridge in the basement was the furthest you could get at the moment, and that was precisely where you were headed. 

“Don’t even say it,” you hissed as you pushed past Bucky. 

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes followed you until you were out of sight, disappearing down the stairs behind the bar. He looked drunk, maybe a little high, and definitely a little lovesick. 

“Gettin’ into trouble again, Stevie?”

“You could say that, Buck,” Steve sighed helplessly. “I’m getting into something. Not sure what just yet.” 

Prologue // next  

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 12

Home again

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: y/n returns home

Warnings: steve almost cries, swearing maybe, kissing, mentions of violence and scars

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Steve was distraught. He sat completely still, head buried in his hands as his mind whirred. I string hand on his shoulder caused the man to look up, blue eyes meeting Tony's brown ones which were filled with sorrow and pity.

"I know you love her, but it's over Steve. They have her there's-" a crack in his voice made the billionaire pause, "there's nothing we can do this time."

"But I left her, Tony!" Steve shouted, standing up abruptly. "I could've saved her, and I didn't!" Steve's face was red, Tony's face taken aback. "She's your daughter and I didn't even save her..."

"Hey, stop." Tony snapped, pulling Steve's attention to him instantly. "I know she's my daughter but I also know that you love her enough that you wouldn't give up on her if you did t have too!" Tony wanted to shout, to scream at his friend.

"He's right, Steve. Well all know you love her." Nat smirked, arms crossed over her chest as she now leant in the doorway.

"How long have you been standing there?" Steve asked and Nat simply quirked a brow. Steve nodded and realised she'd most probably been there the entire time. "And how do you know...?"

"That your in love with y/n?" Nat clarified. Steve nodded. "It's obvious, Capsicle. You literally give her heart eyes whenever she's not looking and you always fidget when you're around her. But my favourite part," Nat pushed off the door frame, walking into the room, "is that you act like you hate her. I new you didn't have great experience with women, but I didn't know it was that bad." She remarked and Steve made to protest but was cut off.

"She's right, y'know. There's no way in hell a girl's gonna ask you out if you critique every last thing about her and give her the evil eyes every time she looks at you." Tony added, making Steve shut his mouth and stare at the ground again.

"B-but it's been weeks." Steve stuttered. "What's if she's... what if they killed her, Tony? I think that's on my. Her blood would be on my hands." He rambled, and Tony was about to reply when Bruce appeared at the door.

"You guys might want to come downstairs." He said quietly, and the three avengers already in the room looked at each other, confused. Steve quickly swiped the threatening tears from his eyes, him and Tony making their way down the stairs as fast as they could.

...

I burst through the doors, immediately met with the sight of Tony pointing to some papers the person next to him was holding and discussing something with them. My face broke out into the biggest smile, the sight of my dad after the hell I'd been through like a shelter from the rain.

I waved frantically, already breaking into a run towards him, his head snapping up at the wild movement and his face morphing into one of shock and relief, his arms held open.

"Lil?" His voice was full of concern as my arms wrapped around his neck when we collided, my legs wrapping around his waist and his hands finding their place on my back. "Oh my god, Lil, you scared us so much, scared me." He whispered into my hair, pulling back enough to cup my face in his hands. "It's you." I smiled.

I nodded my head furiously, burying my wet face into his shoulder, jumping down from the embrace.

"Lily?" The unsure voice from the edge of the room caught my attention, a grin spreading on his lips seeing me. I held back tears looking at him, my smile still wide. He walked towards me, enveloping me in a hug so tight it could crush a normal person. "I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry." He kept saying, his hand tangled in my hair.

I shook my head, sorrow filling my eyes as in stared at the man that had engulfed me with his body. He pulled back, looking sternly into my eyes.

"I know you think I hate you. But, I wouldn't wish what happened to you on anyone, Lily. Not even my worst enemy." Steve whispered, his eyes clouded with pity.

"Well that's new." Tony remarked seeing us hug, confusion lacing his tone. "Hey, kid, what's with the mute?" He pondered as I gave no verbal reply, Steve now looking deeply concerned for me too.

I sighed through my nose, pulling back the collar of the jacket to reveal the long, vermillion scar across my neck.

"You should go see the others, they'll be happy to know you're back." Tony said with a pitiful smile.

...

A million warm embraces later, tears shared and hearty laughs exchanged, I was just about ready to fall asleep and never wake up. I was about to excuse myself when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to see Steve, a stoic expression on his face.

"Can we talk?" He asked, nodding his head towards the door. I nodded, following him out into the hallway. I laid my shoulder against the wall, observing Steve's constant pacing.

So what's up?

I quickly jotted down, handing the small electronic device Tony had retrieved for me to Steve, raising a brow. He stopped, looking me in the eye. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am, I let him do that to you. It's my fault. I don't even know how to live with myself, I should've come looking for you, or-" I cut him off with a tap on the shoulder as I handed him the pad.

Cap, it's fine. I'm fine.

I stressed, writing in italics. The man read it with furrowed brows. cleared my throat before continuing.

I just don't know how long I can keep pretending to be happy, I just want to die.

I finally confessed, vision blurred and screen obscured with tears. A tear rolled down my cheek.

I don't know how to go on, every tome I close my eyes all I see him, what he did

My gaze averted from his as he read.

"Hey, hey. You're strong, you can do this. Let's go get you cleaned up." Steve suggested, looking at my through his lashes and placing a careful hand on my shoulder, which I flinched away from. I gulped.

Steve, there's a reason he let me go

I wrote down, finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were full of questions he didn't dare ask.

He let me go to send a message. He said that if we interfere with him again what happened to me will be child's play compared to what will happen.

His face dropped.

If a few days of torture is child's play, what does he have planned?

I asked, sobbing now.

"Lily, you were gone for three weeks." Steve added quietly, making me look up from where I'd been starting at the floor to meet his eyes. My eyes widened. Steve grimaced, nodding solemnly.

"Go have a shower, I'll grab you some fresh clothes and a towel. We'll talk more when you're feeling warmer and cleaner." He suggested again, and was met with a nod from me this time.

We reached my room, Steve holding the door opening for me and me giving a tiny smile that said 'thanks' as I walked in. I headed straight for the bathroom, taking my time in peeling the ripped tank top from my body and throwing the muddied shorts on the floor with them. Just then, the door opened, Steve walking in with a towel and some cloths folded on top. His eyes widened and he instantly apologised.

"Sorry, lily, I thought you'd be in the shower by now." But before he could walk out his eyes finally locked on me. His eyes raked over me, his eyes surveying my wrists, which were rubbed red-raw from chains and ropes; my neck, which was red and violently bruised; my bruised upper arms; my waist that was covered with finger-shaped bruises; my thighs, that were also bruised and finally my back that starred at him in the mirror. It was a mess of diagonal cuts, which were not longer bleeding but were still a blood red colour. I looked down at my feet nervously, feeling weird under his gaze.

"He did this to you?" Steve asked, tears in his eyes. I nodded, slowly looking back up at him. Before he could say anything else I cupped his face in my hands, smashing my lips to his in a kiss that conveyed everything I could never say out loud. After a moment, his hands reached for my face, returning the kiss. Our lips welded together, his tongue poking at my lower lip, begging for entrance that I granted. His tongue rolled over mine in languid stroked, soothing. I pulled back first, turning and pulling the shower curtain open. I climbed in, turning on the water and getting lost in the warmth and steam that swallowed me.

...

I walked out the bathroom, clad in one of Steve's T-shirt he grabbed for me, some shorts and fresh underwear. He must've noticed that I liked stealing Tony's shirts and given me one of his instead. Rubbing my hair dry with a towel, I dumped it on a near-by chair when my hair was only damp. Steve instantly stood from where he was sat on the edge of my bed when he saw me, looking at me with an unreadable expression.

I began writing, but before I could finish his lips were on mine and the little device was dropped to the floor. It was less desperate that the last time, more passionate and slow. It expressed everything we needed to say, and that was enough. My arms hooked around his neck, my fingers playing with the hairs at the base of his neck, whilst one of his tangled in my hair, the other resting on my cheek.

"You talk too much." He mumbled against my lips and we both let out a breath meant to be a laugh. "Too soon?" He asked before leaning in for another, our lips locking together. He pulled back and looked in my eyes, his hand running through my dampened hair.

He cleared his throat, stepping back from me, his gaze flitting from the door before landing back on me.

"I should go." He spoke, heading for the door. As he placed his hand on the door knob he froze at when I tapped on his broad back.

Don't.

The little device said. He had a hopeful look in his eyes.

Go. Don't go. Please.

I wrote , looking at him with pleading eyes. He nodded, walking back over to me.

I don't think I can be alone tonight.

I stated before climbing into my bed and patting the spot next to me. Steve hesitantly climes in beside me, laying behind me and draping his arm over my waist, pulling me into his firm chest. His body heat radiated over me and sleep soon took over as I sunk into him, his hand playing with my hair.

...

"Lil? Lily? Lily!" I shot up, panting hard and sweat covering my forehead. I slowly look to the side where Tony sat, a concerned look filling his eyes. My gaze looked at the door, where Steve stood, looking over me with what looked like fear, before going back to Tony. "Hey, kiddo, what happed?" He asked, stoking my hair. I swallowed thickly, breathing calmed down.

"You were restless, moving about in your sleep." Steve clarifies from the door, not wearing what he was before. He must've left after I fell asleep. I motioned for Tony to pass me the device which sat on the bedside table and he handed to to me.

I was back there. He was

I couldn't finish writing, the device falling from my shaking hand onto the duvet as I bit back tears, sinking into the embrace Tony held me in.