#not me arriving at the party when half of the guests are already dead

[martyfive]

don’t touch

[oddproperty]

change of heart

masterlist here

✧ hi!! just a bit of writing for fun, enjoy :)

✧ word count: 2.3k

✧ pairing: lando norris x reader x (somewhat charles leclerc)

✧ 'suddenly unapproving of your interest in charles, lando reminds you whose guest you are.'

***This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.***

passing through the lobby of lando's apartment, you caught your reflection in a mirror, stopping to smooth the red silk dress against your body. having bought it only a few hours ago, you were pleased with how well it fit. the material of the dress fell over you just right, bringing attention to your curves. usually you don't wear red, but tonight it seemed appropriate.

-

"lando…this is so last minute," you sighed into the phone.

"it seriously should not take you that long to get ready…plus, charles will be here," he teased. this taunting behavior between you two was normal, having been friends for years.

"wow lando! that'll definitely make sure i have a dress for tonight!" you feigned excitement. “is he going to buy it for me too?”

"i'm sure he will in return for something else," lando joked slyly.

you were lando’s closest friend. when he made it into formula 1, it was common for you to be at his races and afterparties. you were able to meet all the racers and have good friendships. however, it was clear that charles enjoyed your presence in the paddock seemingly more than lando. never failing to talk to you after every race, holding your attention at the afterparties, and similar things were normal practice. lando noticed you showed interest back, and he never seemed too fond of this connection. you assumed it was because, at times, you and lando had been flirty with each other…although it never went further than sly comments and a light touch here and there on nights where you both had been drinking too much.

"you're sick…i'll be there."

-

arriving at his door, you heard the music already sounding. you got there early and were surprised that it sounded like the party already began.

your knocking on the hard door received no answer. after trying twice, you began fiddling through your purse to find the spare key he had given you in case of emergencies. slotting it into the door handle, you looked into his living room where a dj booth stood, but no lando.

"lando?" you called out over the music. no answer.

having been in his apartment probably more than your own, you made your way to the hallway with his bedroom. you hoped your heels clicking on the hardwood flooring would be loud enough to alert him. trying to call out his name once more, you received nothing back.

entering his bedroom, you caught the reflection of him dressing in the overly large mirror that always faced his bed. you never thought too deep into it being there, and frankly, you didn't want to. you remembered all the times lando made sly remarks of showing you why he had it there.

he wore an all-black suit with the first two shirt buttons undone. the shiny necklace he had worn for the majority of his life shining brightly through the gap. a glass of whiskey rested on the table nearby. of course you thought him attractive at least once in the duration of your friendship. his curly hair, hazel eyes, and of course the physique that formula 1 training had brought him. this outfit pointed all of his features out to you more than normal.

"pregaming?" you ask, pointing to his drink as you enter the room. he jumped at the intrusion, but relaxed when he sees that its you. you see a look of disappointment quickly show on his face as he leans against the table, grabbing his glass to take a sip. you watch as he takes the strong liquor with no reaction, making a quick glance at the half-rolled sleeve that displays his tanned, strong forearm.

"you know that papaya would have been a much better option. think it suits you waaay more," lando drug on, obviously displeased at the red dress.

you roll your eyes playfully, ignoring his sly comment, "where can i get one of those?" pointing to his glass.

he makes his way toward you. you carefully watch his strides as they close in on the doorframe you're standing in. his broad shoulders dwarf your own.

pointing at your dress and touching it lightly, you already feel overwhelmed by his small touch. "maybe charles can fix you one when he gets here,” he taunts you.

anytime lando could use your crush to embarrass you, he was on it. this playful banter was usual between you and him, though he currently seemed a bit more adamant.

"actually…i think this one is perfect," you say, taking the drink out of his hand. finishing it, you turn on your heels, making your way back to the living area. you hear lando trail behind, grumbling.

-

as the night continued on, you realized this party was a lot bigger than you had expected. the entirety of lando's living room, kitchen, and balcony were overcome with people. you were able to hear conversations coming from every angle, along with the semi-loud music that blasted through the speakers. you sipped from a complex and tasty drink he had made you earlier (after he got over himself) that made you quite tipsy. admiring the environment around you, you frequently saw lando djing his heart out. given your state, you began to notice just how nicely his defined arms flexed from under his black shirt. how his curly hair lightly fell over his forehead as he focused on the turntable in front of him. and the way the necklace he wore sat perfectly over his (admittedly very kissable) toned neck and chest. thoughts flit across your mind about how you should've taken him up on his offer to learn why his mirror is facing his bed.

breaking your one-sided staring contest - and to remove these thoughts about your best friend -  you shook your head slightly. when you glanced back up, you caught his eye, and noticed the look of slight concern on his face. he raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression, to which you smiled back at him languidly.

suddenly realizing just how much you liked the drink he made - and your sudden interest in being near him -  you made your way to lando to ask for another. brushing against everyone as you made your way through the crowd, you almost missed the large hand feather over your lower arm. when looking down, you noticed the signature richard mille timepiece.

turning around, you exclaimed, "charles!" while pulling him into a hug. his hands rested gently on your waist as yours laid across his neck. the scent of sandalwood and bergamot enveloped you, making you pull him impossibly close. the alcohol in your system was not working in your favor around him, but you were glad to center these thoughts on him and temporarily forget the ones of lando.

after a moment, you began to pull away. admiring him in the dim lighting, you noticed the black and white suit he wore, along with the thin red tie that almost matched your dress. it was more formal than what most were wearing, but he looked amazing. you slowly ran your free hand down the arm of his suit jacket, taking in the soft material. his hands remained on your waist as he watched you closely. you felt shy under his gaze.

removing a hand, he brought it up to caress the side of your face. he pulled you in, angling your ear to his mouth in order for you to hear him. you felt his slight stubble gently graze your cheek.

"you are so pretty," he expressed meaningfully, "red is gorgeous on you."

"i’d say it looks good on you as well," you responded, moving your hands to gently pull on his silk tie.

"wish i could see you in red all the time," he suggested, using the hand that was on your lower back to delicately bring your core flush to him. even in your inebriated state, you immediately knew what he was hinting at.

pulling away from his face slightly, you felt the warmth of his breath graze your cheek and could smell spiced rum from his lips. you could've melted into the strong hand on your lower back. you're not sure if it was the alcohol amplifying the sensations, or if the moment was truly that intoxicating, but you felt warm all over.

gaining awareness of the situation, you returned to the side of his head to whisper in his ear, "i'm not sure how much lando would like that," your lips brushed the top of his pronounced cheekbone.

charles quirked an eyebrow at you and responded, smirking, "why are we asking lando for permission?" the sweet, delicate demeanor he had when he approached you was fading, slowly replaced by a drive to assert his feelings for you with no regard to anything in his way. it was alluring to see him in this new light, so confident to show you what he's truly thinking. this possessive streak sparked a flaming heat in you that went straight to your core. using the hand that was already on his arm, you gripped it slightly tighter, steadying yourself to avoid becoming dizzy from the overstimulation of the moment.

having not heard a response from you, he pulled back from your ear slightly to analyze your face. it was clear he was looking for any signs of apprehension. there were none.

"hopefully i do not have to ask lando about the other things i want to do," he added, dangerously close to the shell of your ear. your skin erupted in goosebumps from his warm breath.

you paused to take in this moment. your slightly inebriated state allowed you to feel everything much more. you could tell his breathing had increased from your hand on his chest and your core, which was still pushed flush against his. you gazed up at him, noticing the slight lowness of his eyes. evidence that he was, as you were, in the 'drunk and interested' state.

between the alcohol having its effect on you, the heat of this moment, and most importantly, the man in front of you, you pull back slightly and shift your eyes away to lighten the intensity you were feeling. almost immediately, you make eye contact with lando. he is once again behind the dj booth, drink in hand and holding a suspicious look on his face. you notice his eyes glance down to your core, where charles is connecting the two of you. lifting both of his eyebrows slightly, you can almost sense a twinge of jealousy on his behalf. watching him, you see him take a sip of his drink before drifting out of your view.

your suggestive thoughts about lando from earlier in the night come rushing back to you.

"what are you thinking about?" charles asks lightly, bringing your attention back to him. you gaze into his blue eyes, feeling dizzy once more.

clearing all inappropriate thoughts of your best friend from your brain once more, you respond, not breaking eye contact, "was thinking about getting another drink."

"another one?" a throaty british accent spoke, almost as if on command. you glance over your shoulder, unmistakably recognizing the curly haired man beside you. "i knew you'd like that one," lando states, pointing at your empty glass proudly.

before you can fully acknowledge lando's presence, you were being guided away by him to the kitchen, his hand replacing charles' on your lower back. his, however, was a rougher and more urgent touch. as you brushed against everyone in the crowded room, you turned around to look at charles, shooting him a pained glance and an 'i'll be right back' look.

directing your attention back to lando, you stopped in your tracks. he looked down at you, pleasantly diluted and arrogantly smirking.

"are you seriously that dull?" you shout at him, ensuring he could hear you over the music. a couple glances were thrown your way, but it didn't phase you.

he watches you for a moment with the same languid expression, making you shift your weight between feet, slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. that is until he leans down, nearing the shell of your ear. you slightly shiver, both from his warm breath trailing down the side of your neck, and the idea of him being so close to you. your thoughts of him earlier resurfacing in your mind. suddenly you were very aware of how low his hand laid on your back. you clenched your legs slightly.

"if you knew who you belonged to, i wouldn't have to be dull," he teased lowly. "whose hands belong on you, hm?" you felt the hand on your lower back grip the fabric of your dress tighter.

goosebumps formed over your exposed skin at his vulgar words. this possessiveness was so completely different from charles' it made you squirm. feeling his smirk grow against the edge of your ear, you knew he noticed your change in behavior...and it was clear he liked it.

you were not at all pleased with him pulling you away from charles, but you were interested in seeing how far you could make him go. his words obviously showed his interest in blurring the lines of your friendship, so you decided to match his attitude. sure the drink you had was probably spurring this behavior on, but it wasn’t the first time you had thought about this.

looking up at him, you could see his blown pupils. the hat he had put on earlier was now turned backwards, pushing his curly hair down to his forehead, which glistened slightly. thoughts of charles slowly left your mind for the final time tonight. 

you moved closer to his tall frame, slightly pushing your chest against his, "can’t stand not getting what you want?” 

he shook his head left and right slightly with not a shred of shyness in his gaze, “can’t stand when someone touches what’s mine.”

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

You Get Me Closer to God

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: France

Warnings: Words & Actions that will damn me to hell; Poorly written smut; blasphemy

Summary: Father Daryl wasn’t an ordinary priest. He drew out your curiosity and curiosity killed the cat…but satisfaction brought it back.

A/N: I am going to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200

gif by @mcbride

The smoke stung your eyes a little as it wafted upward from the cigarette hanging between your lips. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the priest arrive with two sisters and a young boy. A strange combination, but not the strangest you had ever seen wander into the walls. 

You had been with this same group of nuns since just after the end of the old world. You had traveled from America just before the turn, backpacking and adventuring with your boyfriend and the friends you shared. Partying, sex, drugs, and copious amounts of alcohol and bad decisions. 

You were the only one left now. 

The sisters had taken you off the street, quite literally. Half dead, beaten, and left for the hungry ones who would eventually stumble upon you. Sister Catherine had ensured your stay, even when you balked against most of their beliefs and practices once you were well enough to attend sermons and lessons. 

Though Sister Catherine still tried to persuade you to join them, they had all but given up, Mother Superior only allowing you to remain because it would be nothing short of a sin to cast you out into the clutches of the sick that wandered in search of flesh. You did your chores and kept your nose clean, well enough. 

You plucked the cigarette from your mouth and crushed it beneath your boot heel, following the sisters and their guests further into the compound by way of the narrow trail in the small garden. 

The sisters carried weapons, which was odd enough, but the priest laden with them, his scrutinizing gaze taking in every inch of the area around him. You knew that look well. Memorizing entrances, exits, weaknesses. 

You fell in behind the group as they entered the makeshift sanctuary, keeping enough distance to not be detected. Something told you (the way he turned his head and angled it, listening) that the priest knew you were there regardless. 

Father Daryl, you learned, observing from one of the pews in the back. The four were passing through, on a mission of which they would not divulge the details. Sister Catherine was content enough with letting it go, leading the group to their quarters for the night. While the sisters and boy bowed their heads with the sign of the cross, Father Daryl did nothing more than observe. Your eyes narrowed, following them as they approached. 

“Ah, this is Y/N. Our resident non-believer.” Sister Catherine gave you a teasing smile as the strangers took you in, no doubt wondering about your outfit of a cut off tank top, leather jacket, and black distressed jeans that disappeared into well worn combat boots. 

“I believe, sister.” You shot back. “I just don’t go about it with a constant stick up my—” Sister Catherine cleared her throat sharply and pinned you down with a look. “Sorry.” You muttered, the grin you wore anything but. Risking a glance at Father Daryl found one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

Curiouser and curiouser. 

You stood but remained inside as the group was led away. You didn’t miss Father Daryl sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. 

After Compline, when the sisters had retired to their chambers for the Great Silence, you slipped out your door as you did most nights. A cigarette already hanging from your lips, you walked along the loggia, bringing your lighter up toward your mouth. You never lit the thing, eyes narrowed at the small cloud of smoke billowing up from the terrace below. 

You leaned over the thick banister, spotting Father Daryl easily. He was sitting on the back of one of the stone benches, his boots on the seat. Your first thought was to leave him be. It was late and engaging in conversation during the Great Silence was severely frowned upon. Even guests were asked to participate. 

But Father Daryl wasn’t just a guest. He was a priest. 

You kept your steps light as you descended the stairs and made your way outside. The tip of his cigarette glowed red before diminishing and he held the smoke in a little longer before exhaling. He was savoring it. 

He was flicking the ashes by the time you stood behind him, opening your mouth with snark on the end of your tongue. 

“Ain’t easy to sneak up on me.” He drawled, never turning to face you. 

You straightened, eyes blinking wide. “You’re American.”

“Get that a lot.” He mused in a low voice. Cigarette between his thumb and middle finger, he flicked it to disappear somewhere in the shadows. “Whaddaya want?”

“You’re a priest.” You stated plainly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Appears so.” The way he grumbled out the remark was unexpected. You crossed the last few steps and climbed into the back of the bench next to him, leaving ample space in between. 

You could feel his eyes on you though he had yet to move. “You’re smoking. Didn’t you take a vow to refrain from voluntary destruction of your body or some shit?”

One corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as he pointed toward the dark, starry sky. “We got a arrangement.”

“Uh huh. And what about the Great Silence?” You probed further. 

“Th’fuck’s that?” 

To your bewilderment, he didn’t bat an eye at what you initially presumed was a slip of the tongue, however unlikely. You were stunned into silence, mouth agape while continuing to stare at the man with eyes like saucers. When you never found words, he simply shrugged a shoulder and looked back to the stars. 

“S’diff’rent in America.”

You snapped your jaw shut with an audible click of your teeth. Something was definitely off here. You didn’t know much about the man in front of you but he was no priest. He didn’t seem to care much about hiding that fact either. You could sense he was dangerous. Anyone who would need a disguise yet care so little to keep it had to be. Still, you didn’t feel threatened. 

“I see.” You whispered, continuing to study him. He was an attractive man. Older than you, certainly. Your wandering gaze made it to his hand hanging off the end of his knee when you were struck with an idea. One that could benefit him but would definitely benefit you. 

After all, it had been a long, long time. 

“How different?” You asked, scooting close enough that your shoulders were nearly touching. He glanced down at the decreased space between the two of you and then looked at you from under his lashes. 

“Diff’rent. Why?”

“It’s just… we haven’t had a priest here in so long and…” you shifted to angle your knees toward him, giving him your best doe eyes, “would you take my confession, Father Daryl?”

His back went straight, jaw ticking with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Nah. Don’t think that’s—”

“Please, Father! I don’t know how long I’ve got left in this world. None of us do. I’m so scared that if I don’t confess, I’ll—” You buried your face in your hands, shoulders trembling as small broken sobs escaped from between your fingers. 

“Okay, alright. Just… stop all that.” He made a gesture toward, well, you in general just as you lowered your hands to your lap. 

Gotcha.

“Follow me. I’ll show you to the confessional.” You hopped down from the bench, adding a bit of extra sway to your hips the moment you heard his boots against the concrete behind you. “We really should wait until tomorrow for this, rules and all.” You whispered as you guided him into the chapel. “I’m sure the sisters would understand, though, given I haven’t been the most…devout during my stay.”

Daryl simply nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot under your gaze. “S’this the thing?” He motioned to the booth with a sweep of his hand, looking as if he might bolt at any given moment. 

“Mhm.” You nodded, opening the door for him to enter. The fact he didn’t yet realize he’d been busted was amusing, but you weren’t just out for a laugh. 

“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped inside. With a sly grin, you followed right behind him and pulled the door closed with your back pressed against it. There was about enough room for him to turn and look at you with wide, blue eyes. “Pretty sure you’re s’posed to be on the other side.”

“Nah, I like this side.” You slipped off your jacket and pulled your shirt over your head, letting both fall to the small area by your feet. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” You purred as you pressed flush against him. Daryl held his hands out away from you as far as he could in the limited space. “What’s wrong, Father? Don’t you want me?”

“Ya know I ain’t no priest.”

“Mhm.” You ran your thumb over his bottom lip while your tongue traced your own. “If you don’t want me, I can go. Do you want me to go?” 

“No.”

“Then sit down and let me tell you my sins.” He allowed you to grip his shoulders and push him onto the small bench. With hardly enough room to bend, you had to do some maneuvering to toe off your boots and shimmy your jeans down your legs to lift your feet out of them, pulling the rosary Sister Catherine had given you from the pocket first. 

Daryl was watching you silently. When you twisted an arm behind yourself and unclasped your bra, his hands moved to his belt buckle. You didn’t wait and straddled his lap wearing nothing but your modest cotton panties. He was still working at his zipper when your clothed cunt brushed the top of his knuckles. 

“Damn, woman, ain’t even touched ya yet.” His trousers were open but his cock was still held captive in the confines of his underwear. 

“I’ve been a bad girl, Father.” You purred, rolling your hips against his groin as your mouth slanted over his. He responded with equal fervor, licking your bottom lip before tugging it with his teeth. You couldn’t have stopped the full body shiver if you tried. A gloved hand palmed your breast, his bare fingertips warm as they rolled and pinched your nipples. “I’ve lusted after a man. A dangerous man.”

With a smile against his mouth, you worked a hand between your bodies and into his pants, stroking him languidly while you draped the rosary over his head, twisting it to press tightly against his throat. Daryl growled, his hips bucking into your hand when you pulled him free. 

Large hands drifted over your ribs and down to your hips, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” He demanded leaning forward to capture your lips as he pulled the garment down over your ass, holding you steady while you lifted one leg and then the other, letting them dangle from your ankle. 

You didn’t wait, found that you didn’t want to; sinking onto him with your jaw slack and eyes closed. The initial stretch burned, it had been so long since you’d taken a lover. Daryl filled you perfectly, your dripping cunt molding around his length. 

“Fuck.” He breathed, his head falling back against the wall. Apparently it had been a while for him as well. “You’re fuckin’ tight.”

You smirked and rolled your hips, gasping when his fingertips pressed into the skin there. “Such language, Father. So unbecoming.” A moan punched out of you when he thrust upwards, jarring you suddenly but hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. 

“Shuddup.” He snapped. His hands slid around to cup your ass, kneading and spreading you open, digging in his fingertips to manage a firm hold. With his help, you set a brutal pace, moans and whimpers echoing in the empty chapel. 

You twisted the rosary again, the beads digging into his throat. Using it as a leash, you pulled him to you, licking inside his mouth. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” You keened, enjoying the painful grip digging into your ass that only tightened with your words. 

Daryl growled, the sound strained against the pressure on his throat. His face was slightly red from exertion and lack of oxygen, but the twitch of his cock within you didn’t lie. He liked it. 

You felt the scorching heat begin pooling in your belly, the frantic way you were riding him quickly coaxing your orgasm to the surface. The twitch and slow pulse moving against your velvety walls gave away that he was soon to follow. His jaw was set, grunts and breathy whimpers spilling out of him each time your ass slapped his clothed thighs. 

Biting your lip, you stared into his lust blown eyes before placing your mouth directly in front of his. “For Thee have I kept the purity of my body, and to Thee have I entrusted my soul; wherefore, preserve Thou Thy lamb, O good Shepherd.” Making a choked noise against the rosary constricting even tighter, Daryl used his hold on your ass to lift you, pounding up into you from below. Your words were jarred and fragmented, breaths coming faster as you neared the precipice. “Do not permit…the beast which seeketh to devour me…to consume me, and…grant me to prevail over the evil desires of my flesh!” The last word broke off into a shout of his name. Seconds later, you felt him pulsing within you, warmth spreading and coating your walls while your pussy milked him dry. 

Panting, you released your grip on the rosary and fell against his shoulder, your body moving back and forth with each heaving breath he managed. “Amen.” He croaked. You chuckled but remained as you were for a moment, relishing the feel of him softening inside you. Letting him cum in you was probably one of the worst decisions you’d ever made but you had a track record of those a mile long. “Don’t think ya can say enough’a them hail Mary’s or whatever for what just happened.”

This time you gave a hearty laugh, sitting up on his lap while he slipped out of you. You kept him pinned where he sat but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to be quite content. Holding onto the silly scarf he wore, you leaned back to grab your jacket, smiling when his hands came up to ensure you didn’t fall. 

Plucking a cigarette from the coat pocket, you dropped it back to the floor and struck the lighter, inhaling as the paper lit up and burned down.  You even felt inclined to share, turning your hand to let him have a draw after every one of your own. 

“I hope you realize,” you paused to blow out the smoke, “that I’m coming with you when you leave.” His brow drew inward as he took the offered hit. 

“Ya don’t even know me or what we’re doing.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Sick of being cooped up here.” The man hummed, but didn’t exactly agree. “Look, you can let me go with you willingly, or I can sneak off and follow you afterward. Your pick.”

He stared for a moment, eyes narrowed behind the smoke that billowed from his mouth. “Don’t leave me much of a choice, does it?”

“Nope.” You grinned. “Besides, I may need to confess every once in a while.” 

[shawtuzi]

eren being a guest at the playboy mansion, and spending an *eventful* night with a particular chubby bunny.

idk i think its a cool idea :)

OUUUU UR MIND!!!! this just made me so excited omg (i listened to cozy and summer renaissance while writing this heh AND this is set in the early 2000’s!!!!)

this is 18+ mdni obvi///cw include: chubby black fem!reader, little mention of drug use, oral f receiving, mating press, choking, spitting, a little titty sucking, kinda rushed :((

i did a little research and it seems like a lot of actors were guests at the playboy mansion so let’s say eren is a new upcoming actor. he was the main star in a new film that had been doing numbers!!! with the way he can effortlessly display emotions and act his ass off—plus the fact that he has a face that looked like it was carved from the gods it wasn’t hard for him to book jobs.

it didn’t take long for him to get an invite to a party at the infamous playboy mansion and lucky for him he had the privilege to be in the presence of playboys most famous playboy bunny—you ofc!!!

you were playboys first and only plus sized bunny and boy did the public love you. the way you confidently flaunted your curves and gorgeous assets had men wanting you and with your entire career surrounding around body positivity and the way you strived to get plus sized women more involved in the fashion world women absolutely adored you!!!

now these typically weren’t black tie events ppl usually dressed casual so eren decided to pop out in just a plain oversized white t-shirt, jeans that were a little too baggy on him, and a pair of fila high tops. his hair that went just a little past his shoulders was tied half up half down and he made sure to wear his most expensive diamond stud earrings.

upon arriving people were already chatting him up, the most asked question being if he had a lil boo thing to which he replied no. and it was true! sure he’d had a few hookups with people in the business but he wasn’t quite sure he was ready for someone to hold him down. well yk he thought that until he laid eyes on the drop dead gorgeous woman sitting in a gigantic champagne filled glass. you and two other women were the centerpieces of the whole event as you all sat oh so prettily in the glasses—yours being the tallest. after taking a closer look he recognized your face immediately and suddenly lost all interest in the conversation he was having.

eren slowly trailed over to you, his eyes wide with wonder. your legs slowly swung back and forth over the glass as you scoped out the scene when suddenly your eyes landed on the man that looked as if he was in a trance. a smile made it way onto your lips as you beckoned him close with your fingers. you pulled your legs in the glass and slowly moved to sit on your knees and leant ever so gently on the rim of the glass. the faux champagne had your brown skin glistening in the blue hues that shone from the lights above you.

eren was about two feet shorter than the eight foot champagne glass and if he was any closer he might’ve asked you if he could taste the gloss on your plump lips. “you look awfully familiar have i seen you on tv before?” you giggled tilting your head to the side. it took eren a minute to regain his composure before he nodded, “uh yeah i was in this action movie that came out a couple months ago.” you gasped bringing a hand to your mouth, the slightest bit of champagne splashing out of the glass. “that’s where i know you from! i loved that movie i went to see it like three times in theaters! i’m a total sucker for spy movies,” you ran your pierced tongue over your bottom lip before nibbling on it.

“it’s your first time here correct? i’d remember a pretty face like yours,” you sat up straighter and brought your hands to your breasts, squeezing them together, letting the champagne wet them and make them glisten even more. even though you were in a semi engaging conversation with eren you were still on the clock and had to entertain the guests by showing off your goods which eren didn’t mind at all except it did get him a little distracted. “yeah…it’s my first time,” he mumbled bringing his eyes to your breasts before snapping them back to your eyes.

you could see it in eren’s eyes how enamored he was with you and you loooved it. the way he couldn’t keep his pretty jade eyes off you made you wanna jump his bones and that’s exactly what you set out to do. “how about i get down from here and we talk some more hm?” eren didn’t say a word instead he just nodded dumbly.

once you had gotten down from the champagne glass one of your many assistants brought you a pair of heels and a robe, you put the robe on but didn’t tie it up, leaving your body on display. although the heels were a nightmare to walk in bc your feet were wet with faux champagne you still walked like you owned the room, eren trailing behind you like a lost puppy. you abruptly turned around, eren’s chest bumping into your naked one, “let’s talk somewhere quiet this music is a bother.” your smaller hand grabbed onto his larger one and led him through the crowd until you were at the part of the mansion where your room and the other girls’ rooms were.

“holy shit…” eren mumbled as he stepped into your very large room. it was almost as big as the room the two of you were previously partying in and it was very very pink! you kicked off your heels and walked over to eren, you pulled him close by the belt loops in his pants and gave him a sweet smile. your eyes were low and red due to the two blunts you had smoked before the party started. “you know i didn’t invite you in here to actually ‘talk’ right?” as you said those words eren mumbled out a thank god before smashing his lips into yours. ‘strawberry lipgloss’ he thought to himself as he ran his tongue over your glossed up bottom lip.

eren has slipped your robe off your shoulders leaving you in only a pastel pink thong that was practically getting swallowed by your pussy. eren leant down and wrapped his lips around your pierced nipple, moaning around the bud. you were so wrapped in the pleasure you hadn’t even noticed eren had carried you to your california king bed, setting you down ever so gently. in a flash he had yanked your thong off and attached his lips to your soaked pussy.

eren had made you cum two times on his skillful tongue before you were yanking him up by his hair much to his dismay. “we can eat my pussy another time, i need your dick now,” you brought your pedicured foot to the bulge in his jeans and pressed down on it making him groan. “fuck okay you got a condom?” he asked undoing the button and zipper on his pants. you reached under your pillow and pulled a condom, a sly smile on your face.

eren plucked the condom from your hand letting out a tiny chuckle, “oh so you knew you were getting laid tonight?” you giggled giving him a quick nod. “i just didn’t know it was gonna be by my new favorite actor!” you giggled which turned into a squeak when you felt eren’s fat tip tap against your puffy clit. eren ran his dick between your folds before slowly sliding in, “fuuuck,” he groaned, his hand finding purchase on your pretty neck that was decorated w diamond necklaces. after adjusting to his size eren began to move, “m’your new favorite actor huh?” he chuckled throwing your thighs over his shoulders.

you let out a tiny ‘mhm!’ as you grasped onto his shoulders for dear life. eren captured your lips in a nasty kiss, moaning at the way your pretty little pussy gripped him like a vice. “hmm maybe i’ll bring you to my next movie premiere yeah? you can be my cute lil date?” eren pulled out until only the tip was in before slamming his hips back down nearly knocking the breath out of you. “yesss please w-wanna be your date so—ah! bad,” tears were now brimming your pretty brown eyes and it only encouraged eren to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

“s-shit open your mouth,” before you could even comprehend what he said eren brought his thumb to your lips and forced them apart before spitting in your mouth. you swallowed it happily and even stuck your tongue out to show eren—now that had his hips stuttering and his arms feeling wobbly. “m’gonna cum you close bunny?” you nodded your head feverishly your back arching up.

you and eren came together in a fit of groans from him and high pitched moans from yourself. while you were still trying to recover from you earth shattering orgasm eren was eyeing the pretty pink bunny ears that were on your bed side dresser. he reached over to grab them and unintentionally pushed his dick further into your weeping pussy causing you to let out a tiny whimper. “why didn’t you wear these bunny?” he asked holding the bunny ears in front of your fucked out face.

“i didn’t want them to get wet while i was in the champagne glass,” you laughed plucking them from his fingers, “but….i can wear them for you.” you both felt eren’s dick twitch at your words and that’s when you knew you had your answer. “you got anymore condoms?” he asked pulling out to remove the one he was wearing. you gave him a devilish grin and reached under your pillow to pull out yet another condom, “i always keep a second one under because no man can ever go just one round with me and there’s even more in my drawer.” fuck you were gonna be the death of him.

to make a long story short you and eren fucked till the sun came up and you had to postpone your photo shoot the next day bc you could barely even stand on your legs. eren made sure to leave you his number when he left and it didn’t take you long to text him and ask when you could see him again <333

[ask-missparker]

How did we meet? / Marvel Blurb ⚔️

Pairing: Amelia x Nikolai

Extra characters: Phil Coulson

Timeline: Pre-Avengers and Pre-Agents Of SHIELD

--0--0--0---

I got this question asked by Jemma and Daisy a while back. Maybe Liane asked me before too, I don't remember. Anyways, so, I decided why not answer it here.

How did I meet my man, Nik..

Well, believe it or not, we met on a mission. Long story short, we were both somewhat fresh out of the academy. Nik got out way before I did and was already doing missions, so I came in a little later. I had gone on a couple myself either with Melissa in my ear as my guide or dead straight into a battle with Grant Ward.

So when I met Nik, we were both a bit more experienced. *she chuckles* It was actually Phil Coulson, who put us together on a mission beforehand. He must've saw a spark between us and wanted to bring up a challenges to have a face. Nikolai wasn't very pleased to be partnered up for a undercover trip to Brazil to scout and take down of the rich trade owners there. He wasn't very pleased in general.

He was cold and distant.

Because this was a light inside of him was gone in a way. Or so he thought.

You know how some days the clouds are all thick and patted together so you can't see the sky, nor the sunlight come flashing through? That was Nik.

I understood that something must've happened that took his sunshine away. I didn't ask at the time what it was. But I found out later on. But back to the story, we arrived at Brazil at a hotel and I was rather excited to be back in Rio because it was beautiful, even though I have a bit of a record there before I joined SHIELD. Ooops. We knew our assignment and our cover story, as we spent the whole day staking out together in this car outside the cartel's beach house, which is where we got to actually know each other.

I brought us food and drinks, trying to lighten up the mood with a few jokes here and there, let him get to know his partner for the trip a bit better. Nik did let me in on a couple of details on his life and half smiled telling me about his time traveling across the country with his parents. He cracked a small joke here and there but never a actual laugh or full blown smile of his just yet.

---0---

We went to the beach later on for a break, which allowed us to scout the place better and meet the area of people we might need to take down later on. I remember it was late, very late at night, and we were still at the beach.

We were making even more small talk, when I said some half handed comment about the mission and everything in-between, how we were paired up and whatnot.

I don't remember what it was. Probably something accidentally among those words that shifted the tone.

Because that's when I finally got a chuckle, which grew into a laugh for the rest of the night.

I saw that beauty of a cheeky smile of this, the same smile that would lead now into the rest of our trip together.

It became a lighter time afterward, as we went the next day to the man's beach house, his name was Richard Silva, dressed that day in other clothing for the invite. He was having a early get together, filled with women in bikinis, guards rounding the place, men jumping into the pool and his friends all dressed in white suits just like him.

The two of mingled, tangled with other guest and got some drinks in the process of the job. We then formed into the plan, heading south into finding all of the money stolen, calling for SHIELD backup who was there at the party themselves if things got too messy.

Which they did.

After getting the money, which meant tearing down a few walls and putting them in bags, Sliva's men came roaring and trying to strike down the agents. Us included. It was fight that lasted what felt forever.

As we were down one of the halls, almost to the safe zone, Nik was being hell a gunpoint as many other guards were surrounding in and other agents. It was a fight, a free for all at that point, as guns were blazing and knifes were being pulled out. I made the smart, but according Nikolai an idiotic one, to take the bullet for him.

The bullet went flying and I went racing as the bullet entered above my ribs but just below my belly button. I thought I had nothing to lose, and it wasn't worth an agent falling-especially my partner for that matter-to have them bleeding out. In my eyes Nik was too good to be died, being so young and not having anyone who ever cared enough for him to even make sure he was alright.

He lost his sunshine, he needed someone to show him that there was still good left in this world. Even if I was stupid enough to be the one to make the point to him.

---

Flash forward to a couple of hours later, I'm at the medical wing in the hospital. I had surgery and the mission was completed. I woke up laying in one of the bed to find Nikolai standing-well, sitting nearby my bedside after filling out some extra paperwork.

He was so angry at me, calling me an idiot and a couple of other things for taking that bullet for him. He was furious, curious and trying to understand why I did but then something hit him.

I remember I said, "You convinced yourself that everything you've been though, took away your humanity. But I think because of your humanity that you made it through.."

He didn't know how to express his emotions very well after that statement. He kept trying to block out my words as we bickered about the situation at hand, but he knew he couldn't. I was a little hurt by his words, trying to not get emotional but his face said it all.

Everything I needed to know, that we both needed to know.

He slowly kinda let me in, with what he told me, which I won't say on here. Because it's not my place, but he wasn't someone who was loved or shown much after his parents died. He was hurt. I told him that he may not see anything that I was saying at that moment, but there still is a light inside of him.

Then it finally clicked, he looked confused, very confused, but also feeling like there was someone who understood him. Gave him a chance. I have been on the other end of people not believing in me, so I let him know that I was there if he needed someone to talk to.

Even if I may be grumpy or annoyed, I was there to listen to him, even if I won't understand everything. I was there. That's what mattered.

---0--0--7---

----

—> Thanks for reading. That’s what I got! Comment down below with ideas and reblog your thoughts 

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel  @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @cherrysft @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh@sherloquestea @rooster-84 and etc

[airi-of-hearts]

A little something I wrote for the Dormouse ♡ a tea party between The Mad Hatter (@cassiopeiagarcia), The Dormouse (@hinataxsunshine) and The White Rabbit:

The tea party had already started when Airi arrived. She approached with light rabbit-like steps to the edge of the table, intending to sit down unnoticed.

‘You are so very late,’ a sleepy voice said. Hinata raised his head and looked at Airi. He’d been asleep at the table, his head resting on his folded arms.

Before Airi could apologize for her tardiness and her disheveled state, the Host spoke.

‘Welcome, welcome. Sit. The more… the merrier? Is that right? Merrier… yes, it does sound right, even if it doesn’t feel right…’ she said, her voice fading into a barely audible whisper. The Mad Hatter adjusted the black veil that covered her face, but her features were still visible beneath it.

‘Your Majesty?’ Airi asked.

The Mad Hatter shook her head. ‘Majesty? There’s another word with M that doesn’t feel right. Merrier. Majesty. M... MY BROTHER AND SISTER ARE DEAD,’ she yelled. ‘No. No, not dead. I must be going mad. They’re right here.’ Cass looked fondly at the creatures on either side of her, half rotting flesh, half automatons. She lifted an empty teapot and went around the table ‘filling’ cups.

Airi turned to the Dormouse, there were many things she wanted to ask, but he had his head in his arms again and was already fast asleep.

As the Mad Hatter reached her, Airi heard what she was saying. Apparently she’d been telling a story as she poured the Invisible Tea to her guests.

‘…but the real reason behind the Red Queen’s vehemence to paint the white roses was that somewhere in her garden, a single red rose with poisonous petals grew. If anyone were to mix them in the Queen’s tea, well, the Red Court would need a new monarch. 

While the roses bloomed red, the Red Queen could rest easy, for no one could possibly find the dreadful bud. But once the roses started blooming white—as if to taunt her!—, she knew she had to keep that flower hidden. 

And so, she commanded her soldiers to paint, paint, paint. Hide red among red...’

Cass moved on to the next guest, offering them an Invisible Cake with their tea.

‘Is this true?’ Airi asked out loud, to no one in particular.

‘If the White Queen knew the story, then it must be true,’ the Dormouse said. He yawned, stretched his arms for a moment and folded them back on the table. ‘But then again this is the Mad Hatter, so who knows? All I’ll say is: if you bring me the petals, I will help you brew the Queen-Killer Tea.’

Wonderland

— inspired by the Wonderland AU that’s been going around, I’ve been reading everything y’all have been putting out and it inspired me to make something for Hinata.. I’m not a good writer so I made art ^^ at least— well tried to. Not my best work but I do love it <3 just a simple reference drawing

— wanted to tag the people who made soemthing for their story/AU?. I don’t mean to intrude, but y’all are such good writers and I’ve been on an art kick lately 😭 <3 @somatheking ; @andromedagarcia [ + the siblings of course ] ; @airi-of-hearts ; @prosopagn0sis : @cheshire-shuntaro ; @astuteknaves ; and anyone else I’ve missed? Just wanted you guys to know that I’m obsessed with ur guys’ writing 🫣

… I have noticed a mistake and now I’m going to scream /j

[lanaroff]

Into the unknown.- Part 12

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Parent!Wanda Maximoff x Parent!Reader

Summary: what happens when a baby boy is found in a hydra facility? what would you do when you find that is yours and wanda’s?

Warning: angst, unplanned parenthood, fighting, sad wanda.

A/N: another part with pure fluff and a little bit of angst. we are 2 maybe 3 parts before the ending. enjoy <3 -lana

*not my gif*

Wanda had you doing errands all morning. At first, you thought it would be to go to the grocery to buy a couple of things, but you were currently at the fifth shop. How could a party for a baby require so many things? You asked yourself as you walked in search of the cake that Wanda has asked you to buy. You pretty much had everything, you were good at taking orders, but a certain witch felt in need to call you for the fourth time.

“Yes Wanda, what can I help you with?” You asked securing the cake on the back seat of your car.

“Did you buy the balloons?” She asked. You could hear that she was ordering Sam to move the chairs, and judging by her tone, he wasn’t doing a great job.

“Yes dear, I have everything. I’m about to head hom-.”

“What about the cake?” She asked again.

“Already in the car.” You replied. Just as she was about to ask you for another thing you interrupted her. “Wands breathe, everything is going to turn out fine. Trust me.”

You heard Wanda taking a deep breath and then sighting. “You are right, I’m just nervous.”

“I know you are, but remember you are a great mama regardless if he had balloons or not. Now, see you at home, and please don’t kill Sam.” You said giving her the reassurance that she needed.

After she hung up, you went back to the bakery to buy some things that you wanted. As you were returning back to your car you stumbled with a familiar face.

“Hi Y/N! What are you doing here?” Jane asked you hugging you. It had been a long time since the last time you saw each other.

“I actually was buying a cake for Pietro’s birthday.” You said pointing at the bakery.

“Oh really?” Jane said and you nodded proudly, your baby boy was turning one. “Well, I wish him a happy birthday.” She said smiling at you.

“You should come, we bought a bunch of food. I also head that the cake is really good.” You suggested.

“Uhm… are you sure? It’s Wanda okay with me going?” Jane asked you with a confused face.

“Yeah of course!” You said and she agreed to join you at the small party.

You returned home with all the things that Wanda had asked you to buy. The second you entered the living room you saw how well decorated the room was, Wanda had done a good job organizing everything. After placing the last things that you had bought, you walked toward your son’s room to see If he was ready. As you entered you saw Wanda fixing baby Pietro’s t-shirt. She was wearing a scarlet dress that left you speechless. That woman could be wearing the most ridiculous outfit and she would look stunning regardless. You walked towards her and picked Pietro once she was finished.

“There’s the birthday boy.” You said attacking your son’s face with kisses.

“What are you doing? Why are you not ready yet?” She asked clearly nervous about the fact that you were in sweat pants.

“Well Wanda, I was actually doing the errands that you asked me to do.” You said. “You look beautiful as always by the way.”

“Thank you.” Wanda said as she placed a kiss on your cheek. You felt like you were about to pass out. If it wasn’t for the fact that Pietro was still in your arms, you surely would be laying on the floor half dead. “Now go and get ready before the guests arrive.”

“Yes mama, your wish is my command.” You said placing Pietro on the ground.

As you were about to leave the room, you heard something that froze you. Pietro had said ‘mama’. You turned around and immediately look at Wanda, the two of you had the same confused face.

“Did he just say, mama?” You asked the redhead.

However, before Wanda could answer your question, Pietro repeated the word as if was not a big deal. You started tearing up, he had said his first word.

“Oh my god.” That was the only thing that Wanda said upon hearing Pietro. Her eyes were matching yours, and she had to place one hand on her mouth so she wouldn’t start crying.

“You are growing so fast, I don’t like it.” You said hugging your son as you let a few tears roll down for face. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you said mama instead of mommy, but just because is your birthday.” You joked.

Wanda laughed at your comment while cleaning the few tears that had also formed in her eyes. “He is mama’s big boy, that’s why.”

The two of you stayed for a few minutes like that. Sitting on the floor with your son talking about how fast he was growing. It felt like yesterday you and Wanda had met him for the first time. After having that needed family moment, you went back to your room to get changed.

The birthday party went smoothly, Pietro was having fun, the avengers were all enjoying themselves, everything was great. You were now sitting on the couch with some members of the team talking about missions and having a great time.

“For the last time, It slipped. How was I supposed to know that she was asking me out?” Steve said annoyed by Tony’s comment.

“We get it, your old. But she asked you to go out to get drink and you literally told her that you already had water.” You said bursting out of laughter.

“Y/N stop teasing Steve, or do you want me to talk about how I had to explain to you Dora the explorer because you didn’t understand the ‘concept’?” Wanda said and you immediately hide behind your glass.

Everyone started talking about random things, from missions to who was the strongest avenger. But your attention was caught by a tall brunette entering the living room.

“Jane! I’m glad you made it” You said walking towards the woman.

“Yeah well, I couldn’t miss the opportunity of trying that cake.” She said laughing. “I also brought Pietro a present.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you.”

The two of you stood there in the middle of the room catching up. Jane told you that she had moved back with her brother, and that you should go one day and say hi. It was great to see her after everything that had happened. Even If you didn’t feel attracted to her anymore, she was still an important person in your life. So you were happy the two of you were friends again.

Who was not happy was Wanda, as she watched every movement that she did from across the room. She was jealous by she was also upset, that you would never see her the way you saw Jane.

“Have you told her how you feel?” Natasha asked her quietly so only Wanda could hear her.

“No, and I don’t think I will.” Wanda replied playing with her fingers.

“I think you should. You already lost your chance once, don’t make the same mistake twice.” Natasha said and started walking towards the table since it was time to blow out the candles.

After the candles were blown out, and the presents were opened. The guest slowly started to leave. At the end of the day, you were exhausted from all the talking and cleaning. But you were also worried because Wanda didn’t say a word after everyone left. You weren’t sure if you said something wrong, or if something had happened that upset her. But she was ignoring you and it started to get on your nerves.

After finishing cleaning everything, you walked toward your son’s room to check If he was already sleeping. The moment you entered the room you saw a certain redhead kissing good night a really tired Pietro.

“He’s exhausted.” You quietly laughed to yourself so you wouldn’t wake him up. “He had a great day”

“Well, I’m glad one of us enjoyed themselves at the party.” Wanda said leaving the room and walking towards her room.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask following her.

“Nothing Y/N, forget I said anything.” She replied walking towards her bed to tie up some of the clothes that were laying there.

“No, I won’t. Not when you have been ignoring me for the past hours. I thought that we were fine, what changed?” You asked again grabbing her wrist so she could stop folding clothes.

“I just don’t understand why you had to invite her.” Wanda said stepping away from you.

“Jane?” You asked more confused than before. “You are mad at me because I invited her to the party? That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? Because from what I saw you two were having a great time together.” She said.

“Why are you being so defensive about her?” You asked. The two of you were screaming at each other from across the room. She was mad at you, and you thought that she was being ridiculous.

“Because I don’t know If I can watch you being in love with someone else.” Wanda shouted back. You had had previous arguments with the witch before, but they were never that heated.

“What do you mean Wands?” You asked this time calmer than before. Slowly you walked toward her and grabbed her hand encouraging her to open up to you.

“Nothing just forget about it.” And with that, she started walking towards the door. You were desperate to know the reason.

“Please, don’t shut me out.”

Wanda just stood there, as if someone had frozen her, with one hand on the doorbell and the other one wiping her tears. You slowly walked towards her hoping that she would look at you, but she didn’t.

“I’m in love with you.” Wanda said. She just cried, she couldn’t turn back. Not when she was sure that you didn’t feel the same way as she did.

“Can you look at me please?” You asked placing a hand on her shoulder. Action that only made her cry more.

“Why?” She asked between sobs. She was too ashamed to look at you. She was ashamed that she had feelings for someone who was clearly in love with someone else.

“So I can kiss you.”

taglist:  @siriuslydestiny​ @blinkmuch​ @chickennugget468​ @wandanatfan​ @genzwomensimp @youre-a-wanker-number-9​ @romanoffomixam​ @kacka84​ @unexpected-character @immathinkerg​ @scqrlettwtch​ @nicolesangel​  @infrunamix​ @lordesolddepression​  @diasnohibng​ @wandzsstuff​ @lorsstar1st​ @how-to-disappearrr​ @super-lena​ @marrymemcgrath @iminlovewitha @nosfera1  @swiftdazer

[teddy06writes]

Surprise Cuddle Sessions

requested by outsiders anon: "FLUFF? YES OK RIGHT SO- y/n randomly turning up to one of the poet's houses. Deadass 1 am. And they're like guess what, I got the blankets I got the chocolate and I got the coffee so u know what we're gonna turn those depressos into espressos. AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND NOT DEAD. THEY'RE THE ALIVE POETS SOCIETY, THEODORE - outsiders anon"

{YES The Alive And Well and Happy Poets Society}

Todd Anderson x reader

trigger warnings: mentions of Todd's Parent's shitty-ness, some swearing

Premise: You know how tough Todd's Parents can be on him, and how hard it can be for him during Winter break away from Welton and the rest of the poets, so you decide to surprise him with a visit.

{Okay so, in my head, Jeff has a fiancée, her name is Becky, she's a music major, she is the nicest human being}

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Todd usually hated winter break.

Well, hate is a strong word, their were a few good parts, but hate seemed the closest he could get to describing his feelings over the two weeks; at least, it would be the word he used if anyone ever asked him.

The moment he had gotten home, he thought that there had been hope that not all of his vacation would be spent being ignored or compared to Jeff; his mother had gone on asking him questions about his classes and his friends, and the last time he had even spoken with Jeff, his brother had said there might not even be a chance of his coming home for the holidays, what with traffic, and his fiancée trying to get time off.

But then the phone had rang, and after a few minutes of excited chatter, Todd's mother announced, "That was Jeffery! He and Rebecca just got their train tickets! They should be here in a few hours!"

"Oh boy..." Todd had half grumbled, even his complaining gone unnoticed as his parents began to talk on and on about Jeff and his Fiancée Becky.

After his brother arrived, Todd faded into the background, unnoticed unless he was being compared to Jeff.

Throughout the parties his family hosted and attended, it seemed the only ones who would really see him in any other way was his brother himself, and Becky.

He'd been glad to have real conversations with them, it almost made him feel like he was back home at Welton, with you and the rest of the poets.

Almost.

That was how he found himself sitting up at his desk, fairly late into the night, after the last of the guests had finally left, skimming through the poetry book you'd gifted him as an early Christmas present before leaving the school.

He hardly even noticed the first pebble that knocked against his window. It took two more to get his attention, and another after that for him to actually realize it was coming from his window.

Frowning, he got up, moving over to push back his curtains, confused when he saw you standing on the lawn, waving up at him.

Quickly he slid his window open, "(y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Visiting you!" You grinned, adjusting your backpack straps, "Come down and let me in!"

"(y/n)- I- I- can't- I can't do that! My parents will kill me!"

You half frowned, looking around for a moment before deciding, "Fine. I'll come to you then."

"Wait- (y/n)- you can't- you can't just-" Todd tried to object, but you were already scaling the trellis, making your way up until you were level with him in the window.

"Hi." You smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Hey." He couldn't help but chuckle.

You grinned, glancing past him into his room, "So are you gonna move and let me in, or am I going to just be hanging from the outside of your house for the rest of my life?"

Almost flustered Todd quickly moved out of the way, helping you over the sill.

Inside, you looked around his room, moving over to his desk as he hurried to close the window, "How'd you know which room was mine?"

"It's almost midnight and you were the only one with a light on. From what I know of crazy- and what I know of you..." You trailed off with a quiet chuckle.

Todd smiled softly, "So- what's with the backpack?"

"Oh!" Your eyes seemed to light up as you pulled it from your back, "I almost forgot. I brought the short story book you got me, the softest blanket I own, and hot chocolate!"

As you listed them, you pulled these items from your backpack, setting the thermos and cups onto his desk ceremoniously.

"Why... exactly?"

"So we can hang out, and cuddle," You said, as if it were obvious; when Todd still seemed confused, you sighed, moving over to him and taking his hand, "I- ... I know that winter break if rough for you... I figured this might make you feel better."

After a moment, Todd sighed, "Okay- I'll pour the cocoa."

That was how Todd found himself cuddled up in bed with you, softly reading as your fingers carded through his hair. If from the next room over Jeff or Becky heard anything and teased him tomorrow, he would've thought it worth it.

Maybe Winter Break wasn't that bad.

[starjane312]

Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter 2

Jane PoV.

It’s been four and a half Moons. I’m on the Canyon Maze with Jade and Kit who are sparring with each other. It’s a close call but in the end Kit wins. I Clapp and get up from my Rock. They both take off their Masks and Kit smiles at me.

Ja: I almost had you.

K: Yeah, don’t beat yourself up about it.

J: Good Job Love.

I help Jade up.

K: You know there’s skill, then there’s Talent and I just happen to have both.

Ja: Along with a generous amount of Arrogance.

I Laugh.

J: Yeah, Gotta have that Too.

Kit pushes her Elbow in my Side.

K: Who knows ? In a few Years you might beat me.

Jade chuckles.

Ja: I would have beaten you if it wasn’t for that lose Rock.

And at this Point I know Jade let Kit win on Purpose, all the Time. Same as me. We talked about stopping that but never did it.

K: It’s not about Mastering the Moves Jade, it’s about adapting to your Terrain.

I raise my eyebrow and lay my arm around Kit’s waist and pull her to stand next to Jade.

K: And uh, I’m just better than you are.

Ja: Yeah.

J: Superior in every way, Your highness.

We all laugh and look at the Barrier.

K: One day I’m gonna prove it.

Kit lays her Arm around Jade’s shoulder.

K: Tell me you don’t still think about that. You know, going beyond the Barrier.

J: You mean having those wild adventures like we always talked about ?

Kit nods.

Jade looks at both of us.

Ja: I spoke to Ballantine earlier …

K: Yeah ?

La: Princess !

I look at Lachlan and If looks could kill he would be Dead. Jade finally wanted to talk to Kit about it and he interrupted her.

La: I bring Word from the Queen.

K: Are we under a Siege?

La: You need to get Dressed for Dinner. Her Highness expects the Royal Party from Galladoorn to arrive shortly.

I exhale, that means uncomfy dresses and a lot of curtsying for guests.

K: I take my brother’s been called too to scrub behind his ears ?

La: Yes. The Prince, I believe, is Hunting in the Western Wood.

K: Hunting ?

J: Hunting skirts I believe.

Ja: I wonder who he’s hunting today.

We laugh and go down the Rocks. Lachlan is already riding off. I greet Moon and get up. We race back to Tir Asleen. Before the Gate we get off of our Horses and I let Moon walk after me While I walk in the Middle of Jade and Kit who are Leading their Horses.

Jade holds out her Hand.

Ja: I’ll take Eclipse and Moon back to the Stables.

K: You know you're coming tonight, right ?

Jade’s smile flatters.

Ja: No

J: Yeah.

Ja: Really ?

K: Yeah.

Ja: You know how I feel about gowns and wearing them.

K: Well you’re gonna have to Suck it up.

J: Cause we’re not gonna be able to survive this thing without you.

K: What did you wanna tell us ?

Kit looks at Jade.

Ja: When ?

K: Before, you said you talked to Ballantine.

Ja. Yeah. We can Talk about it later.

I nudge Jade’s side and look at her. She just takes Eclipse's lead.

Ja: All right well that was fun.

Kit starts walking to the Gate.

I sigh and look at Jade.

J: You must tell her.

Ja: I know.

Jade looks to the Ground.

J: You will leave with the King of Galladoorn.

Jade sighs.

Ja: I know. You have to go, the Queen awaits you.

I look at Moon.

J: Moon Follow Jade. 

He walks next to Eclipse and I walk after Kit and Catch up to her and Aryk.

J: Who was it this time ?

K: The kitchen maid.

J: The blonde One ?

Kit nods. We go inside.

K: Isn’t she the one that makes those Buttered Muffins everyone talks about ?

A: Hey I happen to be a great admirer of those Muffins.

K: Yeah, I’m concerned about what she’s gonna put in those Muffins.

J: You know, once you inevitably break her Heart.

A: I’m not gonna break her Heart.

J: Oh please.

Aryk grabs an Apple from one of the Servants.

K: You’re gonna lose interest and Move on to the Next. 

J: It’s like the one way you’re Totally consistent.

He takes one bite of the Apple and gives it to another servant.

A: No … She … Dove. It’s different. Dove has this ineffable human Quality about her soul

K: Wait, Wait, wait you said Dove ?

I raise my Eyebrows

J: Dove ? Like the Bird ?

A: Dove. Yes That’s what I call her, like the Most Romantic, Beautiful ..

K: You don’t know her name ?

A: Course I know her name.

J: Brunhilde ?

Aryk looks at me.

A: She doesn’t like that Name.

J: Well, it’s her name. It’s better than Dove.

A: As if your Couple nicknames are better.

J: I call her Love.

K: And I call her Darlin that's 100% better.

Aryk rolls his eyes, we hear someone clearing their throat. It’s the Queen. Aryk pretends that he’s been Racing here. I roll my eyes, as if she hadn’t seen us already.

A: Ah Mother. We got your Message. We raced back, We’re gonna. We’re gonna wash up real quick.

QS: Why do you look like you’ve been rolling around in Grass ?

A: Training. Tourneys and such.

QS: What's that on your Neck ?

Aryk’s hand flies to his neck. It’s a Hickey.

A: Oh ! I got bitten by a Fire moth, which was Strange.

J: You sure ?

K: Wasn’t it a Dove ?

I give him a Smirk

QS: Lachlan told me he found you both and Jade atop of the Canyon Maze Again. You know I don’t like you playing on those Rocks. It’s Dangerous

K: Playing ?

J: Unlike him, we actually were Training.

QS: I’ve had them Draw you three a bath and I’ve laid out a gown for you to wear. For you Too Jane.

J: Thank you.

I slowly walk to the Door to our Rooms.

K: You’re Picking out our Clothes now ?

I roll my Eyes and it begins.

K: What are we Six years old ?

QS: I shouldn’t have to, but when you neglect your Responsibilities for your Hobbies, you leave me no choice.

We hear the Horn, the Galladoorn’s are Arriving. Aryk inhales sharply and walks with me to the Door.

A: Ok, Kit We’re going.

J: Come on.

We walk through the door.

K: Thank you ?

J: It’s not like I can say something. Kit. I’m grateful that your Mother lets me stay here. I’m just her Warden. She could’ve let me live like Jade with the Squires.

Kit sighs, gives my Cheek a kiss and goes into her Room.

I look at Aryk and lift my hands and also walk into my Room. I take a look at the gown and sigh. It’s bright Red. Great, I'll look like a walking red flag. I take my Bath, wash myself and get Ready.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - IV

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,800+

Previously on…

As Y/N packed her bags, she was also brainstorming her route once she got to her safe house. She’s just stay there for a couple of nights. Then she’d leave town. Gotham wasn’t safe for her right now. And if she was out of city limits, The Court of Owls had less influence. Though she didn’t doubt they’d send an assassin to the other side of the world to hunt her down.

Y/N looked around her extravagant room.

She doubted she’d ever be back here.

Things were getting…complicated.

It was a cruel reminder for why she kept to herself. People meant drama. Drama meant distractions. And distractions meant she wasn’t focused on the task at hand – which was bringing down the corrupt.

Y/N was just zipping up her duffle when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She turned to see Dick walking in.

He eyed her bag. “What are you doing?”

“I was just about to go pack up my equipment in the cave.”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here,” he confirmed.

She gave him a repulsed look. “Uhh…No, I am not. This mansion is about to be flooded with unidentified members of The Court.”

“Sure is,” Dick smirked. “But I have a solution.”

He held out his hand to show a bracelet. It looked expensive. The band was gold but there was a giant garnet gemstone at the center of it.

Dick handed it to Y/N.

“You shouldn’t have?” Y/N asked with confusion.

“I called in a favor with an old friend. She’s a magician.”

Y/N tried not to laugh, “A magician?”

Dick gave her a playful glare. “Yeah, a magician. But it’s not tricks and gimmicks. She knows actual magic.” He tapped the gemstone. “When you wear this, you’ll look like a different person. It’s a cloaking spell.”

“Why didn’t you guys suggest this right away?”

Dick sighed. “Bruce isn’t fond of metas and…magic.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just leave?”

“I would rather have you in disguise with our eyes on you, than have you out of reach,” he explained softly. “When you’re wearing this, all of us will still be able to see the real you. But not anyone else.”

“I don’t want to go to this stupid gala. I’ll just wear this and stay in my room or the cave.”

“Well…that’s the other part,” Dick cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re gonna be my date.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked her on any kind of date. Not that Dick even asked. He more so told her.

“That wasn’t exactly a request, Dick.”

“Everyone knows everyone. If you’re by yourself, people will ask too many questions. But if you’re my date, no one will think twice why you’re there.”

“I-I don’t have anything to wear…”

Dick laughed lightly. “Alfred already sent out for a dress and shoes for you.”

“…why do I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”

“Come on, Y/N. You know it’s not like that.”

Y/N remained annoyed.

“I’ll be here at your door around 8 tonight, k?” Dick gave her a soft smirk.

“Fine.”

———————

This was just another night for Dick. He’d been dragged to enough of these stupid galas to know the drill: wide smiles, forced laughter, and lay the charm on real thick. With the way this family handled their identities, they could’ve been a family of actors instead of vigilantes.

Dick straightened his cufflinks as he made his way to Y/N’s room.

He could hear the murmur’s of the guest from the ballroom, proving just how many people were attending for the sound to reach him in such a giant manor.

There was a part of Dick that half expected Y/N to be in her usual baggy sweaters and leggings when he opened the door. A silent protest that she wasn’t going to be anyone’s arm candy tonight.

Dick knew he didn’t give her much choice.

When his family had been discussing the situation, Dick tried to off to stay hidden out of sight with Y/N. But Alfred was having none of it. They all knew he took these events rather seriously. Especially one that was started and named after Bruce’s mother.

Dick knocked and turned his back to the door, he double checked there were no guests exploring where they shouldn’t be.

When the door opened, Dick turned around and was stunned to silence.

“Is this bracelet working on you or do I really look that bad?”

Y/N shifted as he stared at her like she’d cast a spell on him.

Dick was seeing Y/N. That was for sure.

“I see the dress fit,” he finally spoke.

What the hell was the matter with him? That’s really what he chose to say?

Though Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “That it does.”

Dick woke up a bit and cleared his throat. “You look…beautiful.”

He never had a problem charming women. So why is he suddenly talking like a total cave man?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Y/N call him out teasingly. “Just because I dress like a scrub every day doesn’t mean I don’t know how to clean up.”

His brow furrowed at the first comment. “You’ve never looked like a scrub, Y/N.”

OK. OK. He was getting back to his normal self.

“Well…” Y/N broke eye contact from her bashfulness. “Thank you.”

Dick held out the hook of his arm. “Shall we?”

Y/N inhaled, “Right.”

As soon as she hooked her hand onto Dick’s bicep, a wave of relief washed over her. She wasn’t doing this alone; she was doing this with him at her side.

“So, what’s the the plan here?” Y/N asked nervously.

“The plan is to blend in. Don’t talk to any press. And…” He smirked. “It wouldn’t hurt to try and have a good time.”

“Right. I’ll try to do that while I’m in a room possibly filled with people who want me dead…” Y/N sighed.

“Not ‘possibly.’ There will be.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Way to make me feel better, Dick.”

He laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time. Damian, Tim, and Bruce will be there, too. And somehow Alfred convinced Jason to even make an appearance. You’re not in this alone, Y/N.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N answered as they arrived to the party. She didn’t bother hiding that she was still extremely nervous and on edge.

“I did really mean it,” Dick told her quietly.

His tone made Y/N tear her eyes away from the party to look at him. “Really mean what?”

“You look beautiful.”

His words didn’t fumble this time. He was confident and clear, leaving no room for doubt or insincerity.

Y/N gave him a shy smile.

“I’m guessing a drink would make this a bit easier, huh?” Dick offered.

“Yes. Yes, it would.”

Dick guided her to the nearest bar.

All the staff knew what the Wayne family looked like. Which meant the bartended skipped over all other guests and b-lined for Dick when he requested a drink, and then looked to Y/N to order what she wanted.

There was loud laughter from a group of people near them. Followed by a voice that Y/N thought she knew, but still sounded a bit off.

When Y/N looked over, she realized it was Bruce talking to a group of guests, who were absolutely fawning over him. He was smiling and laughing, and taking very frequent sips of his drink.

This was Bruce Wayne: the character. Charming playboy, debatable narcissist, and spoiled brat. But in the eyes of Gotham’s elite, he could do no wrong.

Y/N wondered if Bruce had ever considered bringing her as his date. ‘Don’t you start,’ said a voice inside her head.

Dick followed her eye line.

“Doesn’t it make you nauseous watching him like this?” Y/N mumbled.

“Not Dick. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Jason answered.

Dick and Y/N turned to see Jason and Damian.

Yes, Dick adopted Bruce’s charm. But he didn’t rip himself into pieces, building characters that were unrecognizable to the people who actually knew him. Dick’s charm was a part of his personality. His flirtations came naturally. But he only used them on people he intended on building a genuine connection with. (Though Nightwing was guilty of using said charm on targets during missions a few times.)

Y/N looked around for Tim and saw him talking to what appeared to be serious businessman. He was the only one carrying on the legacy at Wayne Enterprises. If any of the boys needed to be here, it was Tim.

“Shouldn’t you guys be making rounds or something?” Y/N asked.

Jason shrugged. “People only cared about us when we were cute kids. Now we’re just spoiled adults who are the product of nepotism.” He smirked down at Damian. “But this one isn’t out of the clear yet.”

“Don’t remind me,” Damian groaned. “At the last one, a woman pinched my cheeks as if I was some toddler.”

“I thought I was about to watch him murder someone,” Dick added.

“I wanted to,” Damian clarified.

Dick started talking to Jason about something.

It provided Y/N the perfect window with the youngest Wayne. 

“I’ll sneak you alcohol if you do a mercy killing for me,” she offered Damian.

The boy looked amused but gave no indication that a deal was made.

“Your date that awful?” Jason teased as he smirked at Dick, who ignored him.

“Do you have the hearing of a dog? Fuckin’ Christ.”

The four of them stuck together for most of the night. Tim would touch base with them every so often. But he kept getting dragged away by board members or partners or anyone that wanted to kiss the ass of the future head of Wayne Enterprises.

Dick and Y/N were laughing at Jason about something when Dick’s face suddenly fell as he spotted something on the other side of the room.

“God damn it, Damian.” Dick hissed as he put his drink down on the nearest counter. He turned to Y/N. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Y/N just nodded.

But then Jason seemed to spot the youngest brother as well.

“I should probably help him and do some damage control,” Jason sighed.

Y/N laughed and nodded for him to go ahead.

“Now you can see why I avoid these shit shows.”

She laughed but pushed him away, “Go help Dick.”

Now that Y/N was alone, her senses was hyper focused on the party around her.

As she reached for her drink, she noticed that her surrounding area had gone eerily quiet. And she felt far too many eyes on her. There were hushed whispers and even gasps. 

“Would you care to dance?” A voice asked from behind her.

Y/N’s entire body tensed.

She turned to see Bruce waiting patiently for her response.

But the look on his face was that of a man she didn’t know.

Bruce had a charming glitter in his eyes and his smirk was arrogant.

Y/N looked around at their audience, then at the dance floor. She was desperately trying to remember the last time she danced with someone.

“Umm…I don’t really know how–” her words came out so slowly.

“How to dance?” Bruce offered.

Y/N nodded.

“You just need a good partner,” he reassured her as he held out a hand.

‘What a fucking line,’ Y/N thought as she tried not to roll her eyes. She half expected him to add a wink.

Bruce guided her to the center of the dance floor and then pulled her closer with his right hand while his left wrapped around her hand.

Y/N wasn’t expecting him to pull her so close, but their body’s were now pressed together.

Bruce moved his mouth to her ear. “Relax,” he murmured.

“It’s hard to relax when you’re using me to set up your new flavor of the week,” she criticized. “Everyone is watching us.”

Bruce may be used to such scrutiny, but Y/N had zero experience with it. And it was safe to say she hated it.

“They’re not looking at me. They’re looking at you,” Bruce corrected.

“A woman who’s not even me. It’s just the dress.”

“I’m happy you like it, seeing as I picked it out,” he commented smugly.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the revelation.

“I see the real you right now, and that’s who I asked to dance.”

Y/N wanted to make a run for it. She didn’t want Bruce with an audience. She just wanted him to herself and she wanted him as he really was.

But her brain shut down for just this song and she followed her heart.

If Y/N concentrated hard enough, she could ignore all the invasive gawking. If she closed her eyes, it was just her and Bruce. So, Y/N tucked her head into his shoulder and let Bruce glide them across the floor.

Somehow she felt that Bruce was allowing himself this as well.

One song was not enough for what they both needed and wanted.

But Y/N would take what she could.

Though what she did not expect was to finally pull away to see Bruce looking utterly heartbroken. As if pulling away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. And for the first time, Y/N legitimately considered that Bruce might want the same thing as she did.

He’ll just never act on his feelings.

If Y/N had blinked, she could’ve missed the moment of honesty and vulnerability Bruce had colored all across his face – bleeding from his eyes.

Because, the next moment, the character was back.

As the party clapped for the band, someone called Bruce’s name. And their locked stare was broken.

And just like that, Y/N was snapped back to reality as if someone threw a bucket of freezing water over her.

Now that Bruce had moved on, no one bothered to keep their voices down. And the upperclass women of Gotham made it loud and clear that they were not pleased with Y/N’s presence.

“Seems he’s found his next prey.”

“She looks half his age, of course he would go for her. Typical man.”

“She’ll eventually learn like we all did.”

“I still say he was the best lay I ever had.”

“Remember when we both slept with him in the same week?”

Now Y/N wasn’t just brought back to reality – she was put in her place.

Before she could even realize what was happening to stop it, her eyes were filled with tears. She had to get out of there.

“Excuse me,” Y/N whispered desperately and she tried to push her way through the crowd.

As soon as she made it outside, she let out a gasp. The fresh air helped, but it wasn’t enough.

There wasn’t any guests outside, but Y/N didn’t feel a safe enough distance from the party. The gardens and maze were in her peripheral and it took her all of two seconds to decide that would be her safe haven.

She hurried through the maze and prayed that no drunken couples had tried to also sneak away from prying eyes. 

But when Y/N reached the center of the maze, she was alone.

A fountain sat in the middle and the sound of its moving water calmed Y/N down a bit. But even that couldn’t stop her tears from finally escaping.

Y/N sat on the edge of the fountain as she tried to get a hold of herself. She could only imagine what this was doing her makeup that she spent an hour doing. 

‘What a waste,’ she thought.

Her escape was short lived. 

Dick called her name repeatedly from a distance.

Y/N panicked at the idea of him catching her crying. She quickly tried to hide any evidence of tears and pull herself together.

Dick finally caught up and let out a sigh of relief from behind her.

“Y/N, you can’t run off like that,” he tried to tell her.

He opened his mouth to lecture her further, but when he finally made it around the fountain and was facing her, his concern shifted. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Y/N struggled to speak without sounding nasally. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You were crying.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to laugh. “Seriously, Dick.”

But he wasn’t having any of it. He moved to sit next to her on the edge of the fountain. Without hesitating, he wrapped an around her shoulder and pulled her into him.

“Come here,” he muttered softly.

Why did it feel so natural for him to do that? Like he’d done it a million times before?

He rubbed her arms. “Jesus. You’re freezing.”

Then he was taking off his suit jacket and putting it over her shoulders. But he didn’t miss a beat, quickly bringing her back into his arms again.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Dick asked after a few minutes of silently comforting her.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to me if it made you cry.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath, feeling like she was on the cusp of crying again. “I’m just like the rest of them.”

Dick waited, feeling like she needed to say more before he spoke.

“They were whispering terrible things. But it was everything I already knew. I’m just another stupid girl that managed to convince herself that she was different.”

Dick was silent as he processed his words. It wasn’t hard for him to know Y/N was talking about Bruce, even thought she never uttered his name. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Dick announced. “Let’s ditch this stupid gala. Get out of these clothes. Put on some sweatpants. And I’ll have Alfred order us as much pizza and wings as you want.”

Now Y/N wanted to cry for a completely different reason.

Dick was the sweetest man she’d ever met.

“Sound like a plan?” He asked her when she didn’t respond and instead just stared into his blue eyes.

Y/N nodded.

“We can even invite my good-for-nothing brothers if that’ll make you happy.”

Her first instinct was to say yes. They all amused her beyond belief. Watching the way they all interacted with each other was like watching a reality show. And it was always obvious how much they loved each other deep down – even with Damian, who would rather die than admit such a thing.

But if all of them were included, who knew when Bruce would eventually make an appearance. And Y/N just didn’t think she could be in a room with him again tonight. 

“Just you and me,” she clarified.

That seemed to please Dick and he nodded. 

“Just you and me,” he confirmed as he offered her a hand up. 

When they started walking back to the manor, Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close to his side.

“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me,” but she said it through a smile.  

Dick looked a bit nervous, but nodded. “Alright.”

“Do you know how to order takeout on your own?”

Dick threw his head back and laughed. “How dare you!”

He pinched her waist, making her yelp. But he didn’t let her escape his hold. “Yes, I do. In fact, when I’m at my own place, I live off takeout. And let me tell you, no one can order food quite like I can. Thank you very much.”  

Once they reached the second floor of the manor, the two of them parted ways to changed out of their fancy clothes.

Y/N washed her face, scrubbing the layers of makeup off. But before she could rid herself of the evidence, she noticed the smeared mascara and eyeliner. 

Words could not describe the relief of putting on baggy sweatpants and a hoodie and fluffy socks after wearing a fitted gown and high heels.

30 minutes later, just as promised, Dick was bringing up a huge pizza and a box of wings to Y/N’s bedroom.

They ate on the floor. Dick managed to light the fireplace that was in there, because Y/N didn’t know what to do with the thing. The television was on, but neither of them were watching it. It was simply white noise.

Two hours later, Y/N was laughing so hard at a story Dick was telling her that she had tears in her eyes and her stomach hurt.

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m not kidding. Ask Jason. He took my clothes and I was ass naked, running through the streets of Gotham. I wanted to kill him.”

Y/N grabbed another wing and got sauce all over her face.

“What?” She asked when Dick was watching her with adoration. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

He tried to hide his smile. “Nope.”

She knew he was lying and then purposely smeared more sauce around her lips. “How about now? Do I have anything now?”

“No. Nothing.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive am I right now?” Y/N laughed as she wiped the sauce off her face with napkins.

“11,” Dick responded without hesitating.

The playfulness was sucked out of the room when they both heard how serious his tone was.

Y/N’s face went somber as she looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.” She laughed lightly, “I’m a lousy date, huh?”

“That’s not true,” he immediately shot down. “This is the most fun I’ve had…” His words died out when he realized he couldn’t even remember. “Well, it’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

“Me too,” she replied with a quiet sweetness.

Through her full-body laughter, she had moved closer to Dick without realizing it.

He glanced at her lips. He just couldn’t help himself. 

The thing about Dick wearing his heart on his sleeve was that it was nearly impossible for him to hide his feelings, his desires. It was all in those blue eyes of his, waiting to easily be read by someone.  

And while Y/N looked at him looking at her, she felt beautiful. Because that was all Dick could possibly think as he stared at her.

Neither knew who leaned in first. Perhaps this was their dance that they weren’t able to have earlier.

But they made up for it by sharing an impassioned kiss now. 

Dick’s lips were softer than Y/N expected. His hands gripped her waist possessively, making it very clear what he wanted – but still being ever so gentle and soft with his touches.

One of Dick’s hands moved from her waist up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair. He tugged on the strands and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

They both could slightly taste the pizza and wings on each other’s lips, but neither of them cared at all.

The kiss didn’t last long enough for either of their liking.

But Y/N pulled away anyways, gasping for air a bit.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he whispered through hooded eyes as he brushed some hair away from her face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile,” he added with a smirk.

But Y/N wasn’t really sorry about the kiss. 

She was sorry because she knew that things were far more complicated than ever.

-----------------------------------------------------

Part V

Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 

Please, please, please write me a book report of what he thought of this chapter. It will be your VDay gift to me 😘

[jaskierswolf]

Four Seasons

Summary: Jaskier is the god of winter and he gets invited to the four seasons ball. A formal celebration held by the the gods. This is finally the moment that Geralt realises just what Jaskier the bard really is.

Rated: T

Length 1.8k

CW: Jaskier wears a dress, brief mention of gods being genderfluid

Based of this art by @little-piece-of-tamlin. Another @thewitcherbog special!

________

As far as Geralt was aware, Jaskier was just a normal, very human bard. Jaskier had never said as such but people made assumptions, and he was happy to let people go about their day and think whatever made them most comfortable. Most people would be uncomfortable in the presence of a god, or they'd bow down, grovel at his feet, which whilst fun for a short period of time, got horrendously dull very quickly. He was a free spirit, especially during the summer months. Winter was a busier affair but Geralt was always tucked away in Kaer Morhen so never noticed Jaskier’s more immortal side during the coldest time of the year.

Geralt was about to get the shock of his lifetime.

It wasn’t as if Jaskier had planned it but the invitation had come in from Priscilla in the spring and he couldn’t just ignore it. The Four Seasons ball only happened once a century and it had completely slipped Jaskier’s mind, but he wouldn’t just abandon Geralt. The poor witcher might have thought he was dead if he hadn’t turned up at their unofficially agreed meeting place. So Geralt would just have to join Jaskier for the ball, and after that there would be no hiding. He was a guest of honour and gods and mortals alike would bask in the magic of the changing seasons. Most mortals wouldn’t remember the ball afterwards, the magic too powerful for their tiny little brains to comprehend, but those blessed by a god’s favour could remember.

And of course, Jaskier had blessed Geralt. One could not hold a god’s heart and not be blessed.

“You’re quiet,” Geralt grumbled as they made their way up to the rooms Jaskier had secured for them.

“I received an invitation to a party. I was hoping that you might come with me,” Jaskier stammered, feeling the frost creeping through his veins as it always did when his emotions started to get the better of him. He could melt snow and ice with a simple smile, but when he got anxious, things started to get a little frosty. The air temperature outside the tavern had dropped considerably since they’d arrived, but he doubted anyone had really noticed. It was late in the day and the change could be blamed on the setting of the sun.

“Already? Whose partner did you bed this time, bard?”

“Oh haha, very funny!” Jaskier scoffed, ignoring the frost glistening on the windows of their room when they stepped inside. Deep down he knew he needed to get a grip. Pris would be pissed off if he ruined her spring thaw with his own emotions, his poor sister would have to work even harder to counteract the effects of his magic, but it was always more difficult to rein in his magic in the spring. It was still strong from the winter months, and there was an adjustment period.

Even still, the snowfall last summer after the blasted dragon hunt had all three of his siblings up in arms against him. Valdo had to trigger autumn early and the whole harvest had been a mess.

He really should just tell Geralt he loved him and deal with the consequences, but… well… it had been a long time since he had loved like this and he still nursed the heartbreak.

“Jaskier?” Geralt said, snapping him from his thoughts. “What’s wrong?”

He blinked, focussing back into the room. He meant to say “nothing” or something along those lines. Something harmless and easy.

What fell from his lips was another thing entirely.

“I love you, oh bollocks!” Jaskier blurted, clapping a hand over his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry!”

“No, I mean… Jaskier,” Geralt gestured to the room, there was a snow flurry above them and the windows were completely iced over. He desperately tried to think happy thoughts, the warm golden glow of Geralt’s eyes. The soft growl of his voice whenever Jaskier did something stupid that would get any mortal killed. Even if Geralt never loved him back, the thought of his witcher was enough to soothe his panic. With one last deep breath and a flick of his wrist, the snow was gone, “What the fuck?”

“Oh fuck, Pris is going to kill me,” Jaskier whined. “I- umm…”

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, one hand was holding his medallion and he just looked… well, done? Shit. Fucking cock balls.

“Explain, bard.”

“I love you? Quite hopelessly, I’m afraid,” Jaskier smiled sheepishly, his tongue flicking out to flick his lips, a nervous habit that he’d never quite overcome. “But!” he announced with false bravado, “that’s neither here nor there, it’ll pass. No need to worry about me, witcher.”

“And the snow?”

“Oooh yeah that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, there’s a chance that I might be a god, hypothetically speaking of course. I’ve always favoured the winter months,” Jaskier admitted, flexing his fingers and pulling at his lute strap.

“You hate winter,” Geralt growled, still painfully ignoring Jaskier’s love confession but that was fine. “You always spend the winter in that cushy academy of yours.”

“Not strictly true,” Jaskier sighed, “but are you coming to my ball or not, witcher? My sister has invited us both, apparently I don’t shut up about you, probably part of the being in love thing.”

“No, you just don’t shut up.”

“Rude! Fine, be that way, Geralt. I’ll go alone,” Jaskier huffed, pouting with his whole body in a way that he knew Geralt always fell for. “It’s a shame, I had a perfect outfit planned. Gods don’t play by your rules of gender, and oh you should see me in a dress, I look absolutely divine, quite literally in fact.”

“If I come with you, will you be quiet?” Geralt sighed.

“Now, now, we both know I can’t promise that.”

Geralt groaned before slumping onto the bed, the only bed, and it took Jaskier another half an hour to get Geralt ready for the ball. It helped that he could use his magic now that Geralt knew, but the witcher still fought Jaskier on the pale blue doublet that would match Jaskier’s dress perfectly. No man, mortal or otherwise, could fight Jaskier’s eye for fashion and eventually Geralt gave in. It helped when Jaskier reminded the witcher there would be no need for armour in the presence of gods, there was no monster they couldn’t best, and so reluctantly Geralt left his worn out witcher armour on the bed, and let Jaskier dress him.

“Did you mean it?” Geralt muttered.

“Mean what?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head as his magic weaved through the fabric, subtly marking the witcher as his, no other god could claim Geralt if Jaskier already had, and he just didn’t trust his brother, not after the Countess de Stael.

“You love me?”

“With all my heart and soul, darling,” Jaskier admitted softly, his fingers freezing on the collar of Geralt’s doublet, now printed with buttercups. If one were to look closely they would see the tiny little snowflakes that made up the design, “but I- I understand if you don’t feel the same. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to tell you.”

“Hmm.”

“Is that alright, Geralt?”

“Yes. I- shit,” the witcher growled, “It’s not easy for me, witcher don’t-”

“Oh fuck off,” Jaskier snapped. “ Don’t you fucking dare, Geralt. Witchers don’t feel. Whatever whoreson told you that-”

“I know. I know, but you got hurt, because of me, and seeing you lying there in Yennefer’s bed. I thought I’d lost you,” Geralt snapped, his golden eyes burning with fire.

“And that was the day I lost you… to her,” Jaskier sighed, “I was never in real harm. The djinn magic just hurt this body, and I’m rather fond of this one, but I would have survived.”

“You didn’t lose me, Jaskier. Yennefer, she’s, she’s less fragile, and the wish, my wish,” Geralt shook his head.

“Ah yes, you bound yourself to her, my poor aunt, you call her Destiny, was not impressed with that one, but never mind, dear heart, your destiny is set now,” Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s cheek. “Of course, I could undo it. Djinn’s magic has nothing on mine, but the bond between you and Yennefer means nothing. It is a tie, not a love potion. I know you love her, Geralt.”

“I love you, Jaskier,” Geralt said all too quickly, and Jaskier froze, his heart racing in his chest and the world spinning around him in a blur. “It was easier to pretend that I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck,” Jaskier cried out, whisps of frost dancing through the air around them. “You- you love me?”

“Yes, Jaskier,” Geralt repeated, rolling his eyes and shooting Jaskier a fond smile. “I love you.”

Jaskier beamed, and with a flick of his wrist his doublet and breeches melted away into a beautiful icy blue gown. The fabric was cold against his skin, a mesh of snowflakes so thin that the pale blue fabric was sheer. He left his arms free of sleeves, and winked as he saw Geralt’s eyes go wide as he took in the muscles that Jaskier usually hid under his clothes. He thought about taking on a more traditionally female form to fill out the cleavage in the dress, but he rather liked the way Geralt was looking at him with a dark hunger in his eyes. As he stepped forwards his boots shifted into elegant high heels, a dark navy blue with thin straps around his ankles.

“Jask,” Geralt breathed, “You look…”

Jaskier winked at his witcher, cupping his cheek with his hand. “There, now we match.”

“You’re taller than me.”

With a giggle, Jaskier nodded, looking down at Geralt for the first time in their acquaintance. They’d always been similar in height, but Jaskier’s shoes gave him the edge now. “Well, you are my guest for the evening, and no mortal should rise above their immortal, it goes against court etiquette.”

The witcher scoffed, “When have you ever given a shit about etiquette?”

“Human etiquette, witcher, not the gods’. This is different. This is my home, now come on, Pris will kill me if I’m late again.” Jaskier scooped up his lute, and took Geralt’s hand in his. “Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Hold on tight, darling,” Jaskier grinned.

“Wait, fuck, Jaskier! Not a portal!”

But the witcher’s protests were swallowed up in a flurry of snow as they were transported to the realm of the gods. An echo of Jaskier’s musical laugh hung in the air as the snow settled on the ground as the witcher and his bard set off on their latest adventure.

[some-kindofgnome]

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to. 

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki​ for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖 

Happy New Year, everyone. 

(MASTERLIST) 

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”  

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.  

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.  

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything—”

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”  

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

[edie-baby]

Baby Boy Chapter 2 | Lando Norris

Summary: Milana Navratilova is the best friend of Victoria Verstappen, and is for lack of a better word, a minx. She can pull anyone into bed with her at any time. So when she attends the Austrian Grand Prix with Victoria, the drivers make for good bedfellows. Until she finds a man who makes her finally feel like herself. Her baby boy.

Warnings: smut, swearing, non-con kiss (will be a chapter warning for that one), OC is a w h o r e and i love her.

“Well, I think you well and truly confused my brother.” Victoria giggled as the two arrived in their shared hotel room. Milana let a small chuckle pass her lips and launched onto the bed. She scooched further up the bed, letting her silver hair fan out on the pillow beneath her. She beckoned her friend toward her with grabby hands, her legs making room for Victoria’s body to slide between them, her head resting on Milana’s chest. They talked for a few hours, catching up on recent events, and occasionally returning back to the awestruck faces of her brother’s friends. Netflix was playing in the background on a low volume, their focus entirely on each other. They fell asleep after a long time, Victoria’s head still nestled between Milana’s boobs, one of her hands intertwined with the Czech’s and her other resting on the bed next to them. Milana’s other hand was beneath her friend’s shirt, resting on her lower back.

The beeping of a keycard on the hotel door didn’t stir either of the girls, nor did the slight squeak of the hydraulic arm that helped to automatically shut the door. The older Verstappen sibling stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the two women. He looked away quickly, feeling awkward seeing his sister in such an intimate position. He shuffled around quietly and faced away from the two as he tried to come up with a solution to wake them up without seeming like a creep.

“You know, if you’re trying to think of a way to be less creepy, you probably should have done it before you came in.” A thick accent and husky voice startled Max out of his thoughts. He turned quickly to see that Milana had woken up, and had turned her head to look at him lazily, a smirk curling onto her face as his expression betrayed that it was exactly what he was thinking.

“Sorry, it’s just, there’s a party tonight for all the drivers to bring their guests and have a good night before we’re all focused on racing again this weekend and then off for the summer break. I sent Vic a few messages and tried calling, but she didn’t reply. I figured she was asleep, so I wanted to make sure she had enough time to get ready otherwise I’d be a dead man.” Max explained, his eyes avoiding the two women on the bed.

“I’ll get her up and ready. She’ll be good to go in thirty, so meet her in the lobby.” Milana told Max, her accent slowly slipping away as she woke up further. Max’s head cocked like a puppy’s, his eyes finally flickered over to meet Milana’s and he was stunned yet again by the depth and intensity they held.

“You’re invited too. You’re Vic’s guest, which means you’re mine as well. Plus, I know she would never have as much fun without you.” Max smiled as he saw the small smile on Milana’s lips. They were still quite a deep red, though they were nothing compared to that dark maroon that he had imagined wrapped around his cock a few times already today.

“Alright. Thirty minutes in the lobby. I’ll be waiting.” Max winked as he walked away from the bed, straight out the room and along the hall until he was a safe distance away. The Dutch leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. The dirty thoughts that swirled in his head when he saw that short skirt bunched up even higher on her leg than earlier today, and the smirk that curled the right side of her lip could definitely make him commit treason.

Milana began pecking the top of Victoria’s head, the hand that rested against her back began tapping in rhythm with the small kisses. Victoria let out a happy sound and snuggled further into her cocoon, a.k.a Lana’s tits.

“Come on baby girl. Your brother invited you to a party tonight. We have to be in the lobby in a half hour.” Milana whispered, and suddenly Victoria was sitting bolt upright. She scrambled to stand on wobbly legs, and hurled herself toward Milana’s suitcase.

“We have to get ready now then! Fuck why did he not give me more time?” Victoria whined, slipping into her native Dutch language to begin cursing her older brother.

“Wear the navy blue dress that has the spaghetti straps. It suits your figure a lot more than mine.” Milana commented, watching as Victoria rifled through the Czech’s suitcase as she had more ‘party appropriate’ clothes. Victoria’s hands fell on the familiar fabric and pulled it from the case with a victorious smile. She pecked Milana’s lips quickly before stripping down, plucking a navy blue bra and thong set that was a similar shade of blue to the dress. Milana paid her no mind, pouring through her suitcase for a dress to wear herself. While Victoria was tall, slim and an athletic build, Milana had the ‘Instagram curves’ as Victoria had so affectionately named them. Her waist was naturally quite small, and growing up pulling around a tarot reading booth in the streets of Prague had meant she had a very strong lower body, essentially meaning she had muscular thighs and a large, well sculpted ass. It also meant that nine times out of ten, dresses off the rack of her and Victoria’s favourite shop wouldn’t fit as nicely as they did for her blonde friend. Still, she pulled a maroon suede dress that was so tight around her hips, ass and legs, it might as well be a bodycon. Deciding to forfeit a bra, Milana pulled a white lace thong up her legs, followed by the tight dress. She could hear Victoria rustling in the bathroom, presumably starting her makeup. Milana began styling her hair in the large mirror across from the bed, messy waves it was.

“Hey babe, should I do a nude lip with this?” Victoria’s voice called loudly from the bathroom. Milana walked up behind her, arms instinctively wrapping around her small waist.

“I think so, it’ll make the eyes look less dramatic.” Milana mused. Whilst Victoria was known for bold, dark eyeshadows and a light coloured lipstick, Milana’s eyes were always framed in a light brown or peach, her lips holding the infamous dark maroon colour that had pulled many people into her bed before.

“Ok, I’m putting my hair in a ponytail, and then we’re calling it because otherwise we will still be here in three hours.” Victoria finished, her long hair secured quite high on her head, the strands falling down her back like golden thread. Milana smiled, throwing the tall heels with too many strings and laces for her to figure out at her friend. She, herself, pulled on the trusty heeled leather boots that had kept her from breaking toes at concerts and clubs more times than she could count.

“Look at that, we even have time to take a photo.” Milana drawled, knowing Victoria could take up to fifteen minutes to get the perfect Instagram pic. The Czech posed alongside her friend, the slit in both of their dresses showing off more skin despite the dresses cutting off at barely mid thigh. The two women strutted out of their hotel room, phones, purses and valuables left in the hotel room as it wasn’t going to be a responsible night.

[blessednereid]

First Line Tryouts

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Mentions/Warnings: Implied Smut, making out, cursing, eating/food mentions, mentions dead bodies, slasher film mention, dementia mention, slight domesticality(?)

Word Count: <4,200

A/N: This took so long im so sorry, tried to sum up the events of ep 1, while adding some isaac moments! Enjoy! LMK If I need to add anymore tw’s or cw’s.

Taglist: @rogershoe Dm me to be added to the taglist. 

~---~---~---~---~

There was a week left until your second semester began. Isaac was determined to thank you for everything you had done for him since he told you about his dad. 

He enlisted Stiles and a reluctant Lydia to help him with the planning. Isaac was going to make a picnic basket with your favorite foods. After that, Stiles would drive him to Lookout Point, and Lydia would take you there right after he gave her the go-ahead to let her know it was ok to leave. 

Lydia would take you to the mall so that Isaac could prepare the picnic basket. He had bought assorted fruits, a platter of ham and cheese pinwheels, passion-fruit fruit champagne, your favorite desserts, and your favorite chips. He packed a picnic blanket as well as two smaller ones so that you both could lay under the stars and watch them dance. 

After everything was packed, Stiles drove him to the point in the woods, and two miles away from his destination, he called Lydia and gave her the signal. 

When he reached the peak, before he could do anything, Stiles scolded him.

"Hey scarf," he barked. Isaac turned his head.

"Don't try anything with my sister tonight, alright? You may not be in the house, but I will still be watching everything?"

Isaac paused. "Aren't you going back to Scott's house?" 

"I have eyes everywhere, Lahey," he stated simply before waltzing away.

~---~---~---~---~

When you arrived, Isaac had everything set up, the picnic cloth was laid down on a flat chunk, the colorful plastic champagne glasses he had bought were carefully placed down on top of the plates, 

When you arrived, Isaac had already laid everything out. The picnic blanket was spread out on a flat chunk of land, and the ceramic plates sat on top of it. There was a bundle of spoons and forks, knives, and colorful plastic champagne glasses for the both of you. 

"I-saac, haha," you chuckled.

He bowed. "Good evening, madame. How can I serve you today?" He walked over to you and led you to the setting. 

"Isaac, you didn't have to do all this, you know?" 

"I know, but you've done so much for me recently, and I wanted to thank you."

You looked at him fondly, and he stared back at you before breaking away to grab the fruit. He fed you a strawberry, and after that, you both took turns tossing berries into the air and trying to catch them. 

~---~---~---~---~

After you both were done eating, Isaac packed all the remaining food (which was a lot) into the basket and tossed you a cover. He pulled you closer to him once you were wrapped in the blanket and laid down to watch the stars with his favorite person in the world. 

"That's Orion's belt, right there," you thought out loud. 

"That's the big dipper then," 

"How do you know so many constellations?" Isaac questioned, and you frowned. 

"I- uh…" 

"What's wrong?" He looked at you with worry.

"It was something me and my mom did before she died. She would go out to the woods with me—" you paused."—and she would show me where all the stars were. Stiles was never interested. My obsession with finding the stars became so big she decided to get me a telescope and a big book of all the constellations." 

"Oh, so I'm guessing it's a touchy subject?" 

You laughed. "It's a subject that brings up memories. To be honest, I haven't tried stargazing since my mom's death. This was nice." 

"You never told me much about your mom…" 

"And you never told me about yours," you hit back. 

"Touché." 

You went first. "Before everything, my mom was…in all aspects… perfect. Every day when we came home from school, she would have lunch ready, even if we already ate, just some chips and cookies on the table for Stiles and me." 

You smiled. "Mom would take us outside to the backyard and play soccer with us, us two against her. I think she would go easy on us." 

"When she got diagnosed, she started becoming less… tolerant of us. She would yell for the tiniest things,  and they didn't hurt me as much because Dad would always remind us that she didn't mean it, but I guess it always hurt Stiles more—"

"How do you mean?" Isaac asked.

"He was always a mommy's boy. One night we went to visit her at the hospital, I went to the vending machine to get snacks for Stiles and me, and he was gone. When he came back, he was crying nonstop. I kept trying to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he wouldn't tell me.  The next day it was like he just forgot about it." 

You both sat there in silence for a while longer. 

"My mom…. My mom was always working. She had her own business making soaps and perfumes and stuff like that." 

"She would always ask—" he gulped. "—she would ask my brother and me to help her with her orders. We would always make a mess, so after we were done, she made bubble baths for us." He giggled at the memory. "When she died, I guess we all changed a bit." 

"I got a little shier, Camden got more impulsive, Dad just lost his filter. He put more effort into making sure we were disciplined." He saw your eyes squint. "He didn't hit us back then. He just had stricter rules." 

You pulled him closer to your chest, and you guys just stayed there, looking at the stars, and feeling, even more, closer to each other than before.

You broke the silence.

"Isaac…" 

"Yes, Y/N?"

"I love you…" 

He leaned down to your face and pecked your lips.

"I love you too," he smiled.

~---~---~---~---~

"Y/n!" Isaac was trying to wake you up. You had fallen asleep watching Nightmare on Elm Street. You had been desensitized to all the blood and gore because you and stiles would always stay up late and watch slasher films. This was when your dad worked extra shifts at the Sheriff's station, and your mom was at the hospital.

"N/n, Wake up!" 

He grabbed your ringing phone and pulled it up to your ear, despite knowing he would face your wrath for doing that later on. Stiles had just called you for the 4th time that night, and you weren't waking up.

When you still wouldn't wake up, he did the only thing he could think of, as illogical as it was. He laid down flat on his back and rolled over, pushing you off the bed. You woke with a start. 

"ISAAC, WHAT THE HELL!!"

"Stiles has called you 4 times in 5 minutes, and you told me to wake you up whenever someone calls you…" He fake-pouted. 

Your expression softened because you couldn't resist his cobalt eyes, but you were still angry. You answered the phone and shouted at Stiles to release your frustration. 

"Stiles, what the hell, you're across the hall. Did you really have to call?"

"Hurry up and get ready, Dad just went out, and we need to go get Scott."

"Why do we have to follow dad? It's his job."

"Someone found a dead body, but half of it is missing,"

"Ok, I'm coming," You said while putting on your jeans. 

"Oh, and leave the golden retriever."

"His name is Isaac, not 'golden retriever,' Stiles!" you scolded. 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, hurry up!"

You finished putting on Isaac's hoodie and turned to face him. 

"I gotta go, love."

He pouted. "Why can't I go with you?"

You went to give him a hug. "We should go with the least amount of people possible., so we don't get caught…" you lied. 

"Is Scott going?" He was always able to tell when you were lying. He knew all your tells and your poker face before you were even dating. 

"Fine, It's Stiles."

"So, I realized. Do I really look like a golden retriever?"

You shrugged and said in a pitchy voice, "An adorable golden retriever?" 

He sighed. 

"Be safe, and come back before midnight, please? I don't wanna go to sleep without you…"

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

"It's the start of first-line tryouts. I really wanna make it this year,"

"I'm sure that you'll make it Isaac, you are one of the most hand-eye coordinated people I know, and at every game, I will be there to cheer you guys on!"

 He smiled at your statement and kissed you. 

"Be sa—"

"Y/N, Hurry up!" Stiles shouted from downstairs. 

~---~---~---~---~

You stayed in the car while Stiles was getting Scott, silently cursing him for not allowing Isaac to come but going to get Scott. 

Scott and Stiles got out of the house and piled into the car. 

"Next time you wanna leave the 'golden retriever,' Stiles, we're also leaving the poodle," you angrily intoned.

Scott took up an offended expression. "Poodle?"

"Would you rather chihuahua?"

"Nevermind..."

"No, we're not leaving Scott. He's my best friend," Stiles said defensively.

"Oh yeah? Isaac is my boyfriend, yet he couldn't come!" 

"My car, my choice of guests."

"Fuck off, Miechyvslaw!"

~---~---~---~---~

"We're seriously doing this?"

"Obviously," you stated simply.

He started driving the car, and they headed to the woods where the search party for the body and the other half of it would be located. 

"You're the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town," Stiles said.

"I was trying to get a good night's sleep before practice tomorrow."

"Right, cause sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort," Stiles sassed.

"No, because I'm playing this year. In fact, I'm making the first line."

"Hey, that's the spirit. Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one."

You interrupted their bickering. "Just out of curiosity, do either of you know what half of the body we're even looking for?"

"Uhhh-" Stiles stuttered.

"And uh- what if whoever killed the body is still out there," Scott questioned.

"Also, something I did not think about."

"It's comforting to know that you've planned this out with your usual attention to detail," Scott stated. 

Stiles and Scott continued bickering, but soon, you saw a flashlight.

"Shit! Hide!" you warned, but Stiles kept going. You leaped forward, trying to grab his shirt and pull him back, but your dad caught you.

"Hang on. Hang on. These two delinquents belong to me."

Stiles sighed. 

"I told you to hide, you brat!" you whispered to him.

"Daaaaad!" He enunciated. "How are you doing?"

"So, do you, uh, listen into all my phone calls?"

"Not the boring ones," Stiles said. 

"So, where's your usual partner in crime?"

"Wh-who Scott? Scott's home, he said before continuing to ramble.

Your dad had called out for Scott, and when he didn't respond, dragged you and Stiles back to the Jeep. 

~---~---~---~---~

You went back to your room once you got to the house and found Isaac asleep on the bed.

"Izzie!" You grabbed a plush pillow from beside him and whacked him softly with it. 

You went home that night, not knowing where Scott was or what had happened to him while worrying about what Melissa would do to you if Scott got bitten by a coyote and she found out you lured him out there.

He stirred but didn't wake. You groaned and moved beside him.

"Isaac?" you shrilled. "Isaac, you were supposed to wait for me to come back!!"

You shook his body left and right until he woke up groggily.

"N/n?"

He fully opened his eyes and groaned at the comfort that it was you.

"You scared me!" he complained.

You began shuffling towards him and running your hands down his covered pectorals. "Aww… what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Anything?" he said before sucking in a breath.

"Anything, baby," You nodded. 

He pulled you onto his lap and started kissing you passionately, your lips meshing together. He trailed his lips from yours to your cheekbones, then to your jawline, nibbling slightly. You moved your hips forcefully against his, and he brought one hand down to your waist.

"Hey, is this ok?"

You nodded vehemently. 

He pushed your hips back and forth along his while leaving dark red marks towards the base of your neck and your collarbone. He sucked a hickey onto a pulse point, making you let out a moan, which you tried muffling by pressing your lips together. 

He brought his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged slightly before looking up at you. You replaced his hands and pulled your shirt off of your torso. 

He placed open-mouthed kisses onto the tops of your breasts, causing you to throw your head back in delight. He brought his hand back to the small of your back and shuffled you forwards on his lap. 

He turned you over onto your back and continued to kiss from your chest up. He stood on his knees in front of you and pulled his shirt off of his body. He placed one more brief kiss on your lips before gripping your thighs and lowering down your body.

~---~---~---~---~

Stiles drove you, Isaac, and Scott to school the next day. When you got out of the car, Scott and Stiles were talking about a bite that Scott had gotten when he went to the woods, but he assured you that you wouldn't face Melissa's wrath. 

When you saw Lydia amongst the crowd, you dragged Isaac all the way to her. Lydia had never liked Isaac, feeling like her best friend could do much better than someone who wouldn't even talk to her(you) for extensive periods of time. 

"Hey Lyds!" you said with Isaac's face buried in your neck. He was not fond of Lydia either, not that she had done anything, but he had picked up on her apathy towards him and just decided he would do the same. 

"Hey Y/N! Isaac." You all walked into the building and headed for your respective classes. 

~---~---~---~---~

You had English first, and the teacher was rambling about the dead body found in the woods. 

A familiar faced walked into the room, and you almost squealed. It was your godsister, Allison Argent. You knew that her family was moving to  Beacon Hills, but you hadn't known when they would be arriving. 

Chris Argent, Allison's dad, was your mother's best friend in high school. When she gave birth to you and Stiles, she made Chris your godfather.

You quietly clapped your hands at her appearance. She smiled at you before taking the seat diagonally across from you and right behind Scott. You noticed how when he turned around to give her a pencil, he looked highly flustered. 

Before you could point this out and tease him about it, your teacher began to talk about the novel you were reading as a class.

~---~---~---~---~

When you got out of class, you decided to introduce Lydia to Allison. 

When you both approached Allison, she squealed and ran to give you a hug, almost causing you to stumble. You hugged her back for a good five seconds before letting her go. 

"That jacket is absolutely killer! Where'd you get it?" Lydia asked the brunette.

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Francisco."

"And, you are my new best friend!" Lydia said before greeting her boyfriend, Jackson, who had come up behind her. 

"Hey? What about me? Already replacing me with my godsister?" you asked before you felt two slender arms wrap around your waist.

"Never!" Lydia smiled. "We can all be friends." 

You could hear a girl talking about Lydia or Allison or both, and you decided you would defend your friends. 

You walked over to where she was talking to Stiles and Scott.

"Hey, what's going on over here?"

"Oh, Audrey here was asking what Allison did to already be hanging out with your exclusive clique."

"Uh, nothing? She's just Allison." You said, looking at Scott and Stiles but directing it towards Aubrey. You then turned on your heels and walked away.

You had found that your friends had told Allison about the upcoming party and were just about to head to the lacrosse practice for the day.

~---~---~---~---~

You gave Isaac a good luck kiss before he went out to the field, and Lydia looked at you weirdly.

"What is it?" you asked, rolling your eyes.

"Nothing, Nothing."

"Why do you have such a problem with my boyfriend?"

She turned to look at you. "I don't know, maybe it's because you caught feelings when he hadn't said a single word to you for a week and didn't for another week after you first kissed him"

"It could be that when you asked him out and actually confessed your feelings, he waited a week to give you a response and made you think that he was rejecting you, which made you cry?"  

You rubbed your temples. "Lydia, I explained all this to you. He's a shy guy. He just doesn't talk much to people, and he thought I was playing a joke on him."

She shook her head. "Mark my words, Y/N, he's going to end up breaking your heart, and when he does, I'll be left to pick up the pieces."

You groaned. "Allison, does Isaac look like someone who would hurt me?"

"No? He looks like… He looks like a golden retriever!"

The three of you burst out laughing, and Lydia promised to try and be tolerant of Isaac.

Suddenly, it was Scott's turn to try guarding the goal. He allowed the first shot through before finding his footing and blocking the rest of the throws. 

"Who is that?" Your godsister asked. 

"Hmm… I'm not sure who he is," Lydia said questioningly.

You scoffed. "That is Scott McCall. Stiles' best friend. Why?"

"He's in our English class. He seems like he's pretty good," she said sagely.

She changed the subject. "Speaking of Stiles, how is he? I haven't talked to him since I got back."

"He's-" you tried answering but stopped short. "Wooh! Go, Isaac!"

He smiled at you before going to shoot lacrosse balls at the goalie.

On the final day of tryouts, you and Isaac had done stretches, though he didn't know why, and they had run laps around the field before practice had started.

The coach started talking to the players, and you, Lydia, and Allison sat in the stands. By the time practice was over, Scott had made the first line, but Stiles and Isaac didn't. To cheer them up, you had taken them to their favorite to-go restaurant and bought dessert for them.

~---~---~---~---~

It was a Friday night. You were particularly sad, not only because Isaac couldn't go with you, but because Isaac had his weekly dinner with his dad today. So, he wouldn't even be there when you fell asleep. 

Scott and Stiles had gotten into a fight earlier, so he wasn't going to the party. This left Jackson to drive you, who was taking Lydia to the party. This didn't make you too happy, seeing as how Jackson was a self-entitled bastard who got his status from his family and isn't grateful for any of it. 

You didn't understand how Lydia had decided it would be a good idea to date him. But, you knew that the same way she couldn't change your mind about Isaac, she wouldn't change your mind about Jackson. 

You wore a pink satin body-con dress that reached your mid-thigh. Isaac had picked it out for you when he realized he wouldn't have been able to attend the party. He was ok with it being as short because he knew all the guys there would remember what happened to Garrett Ferrero after he started hitting on you at a party. He had to get nose surgery because Isaac had broken it, and his nose swelled up so large, he didn't come to school until it shrunk.

You paired it with opaque tights with fishnets on top and a pair of red, 3-inch, cut-out heels. As for makeup, you had outlined your lips with a black lip liner and smeared a cherry red lipstick over it. You applied minimal foundation and went for a nude eyeshadow look. 

When you stepped out of the bathroom in your outfit, Isaac nearly went feral. He lightly kissed the expanse of your neck, knowing you would kill him if he messed up your makeup, and he ended up backing you both into a wall. 

You had to swat him away after a few seconds of this affair because you had to leave soon, and so did he, albeit reluctantly. You put a black jean jacket on top of your outfit before heading downstairs. 

He left your house a few minutes before you did, but just before you left, Stiles pulled you aside.

"Hey, Y/N, just watch out for Scott today, and especially Allison." Stiles was overprotective of both of you. Before Allison and her family began moving around, she was like a sister to both of you. You three did almost everything together. 

"Stiles, what's going on?"

He sighed. "Ok, this is going to be hard to explain, but you have to go. So I'm going to give you the brief version right now and explain later."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue. 

"The night Scott got bit by that 'coyote'... it wasn't a coyote. It was a wolf, and wolf hairs were reported on the autopsy of the dead body. Scott has been experiencing heightened senses, and he's been stronger. Y/N, he hasn't needed his inhaler all week."

Your eyes widened. You didn't know what to say.

"So… you think he's a werewolf."

"Better to be safe and absurd than sorry and sad. Tonight's a full moon, and he just wouldn't cancel that date. Just look out for them, you know?"

You bobbed your head up and down vigorously. 

You left the house, and outside were Jackson and Lydia, in the front seat of his Porsche. It was a nice ride but a bit overly embellished for someone who only just got his license.

 ~---~---~---~---~

Later at the party, you had last seen Allison and Scott as they were dancing. You were dancing with your friend, Marya Cullen. She was a freshman, so she didn't really know most of your other friends. You had met her through your job at Forever 21, and you instantly clicked. 

She was really drunk, so you called another one of her friends and asked them to take her home. Marya had given her friends a list of the people allowed to drive her home if this happened. 

It was just as you were putting Marya in the backseat, you saw Scott walking away from her, dazed. While that happened, a mysterious guy who looked much older than you were approaching Allison. 

"Hey, I'm her friend. I got it, thanks!" 

You walked with Allison back to her house after grabbing all your belongings and immersed in conversation, mostly about how weird Stiles was being. Stiles was driving in his Jeep when he saw you coming from Allison's house. You got into the Jeep, and you both went home. 

When you got there, you changed into your pajamas and laid down onto the surface of a cold bed. You grabbed your thickest pillow and pulled it into your arms, trying to create some semblance of a feeling of Isaac laying down with you.

~---~---~---~---~

You awoke to bright sunlight and a buzzing phone by your head. Isaac had been calling you to ask you to let him in the house. You realized it was high time that he gets a key to the front door. 

You went downstairs to greet your boyfriend, and you noticed that he had brought Starbucks. You almost caused him to fall to the floor had he not caught you in time. He set you on the floor and kissed your lips before heading to the kitchen.

He had gotten your regular order, as well as your favorite drink, and he had gotten his order as well. 

You guys say down to just eat and relax.

He took a sip of his iced coffee before saying anything.

"My dad wants me to work at the graveyard," he said, pensive.

You choked on your food. "What?" 

"Well, he said he's cutting off my allowance." 

"So he said I can either earn it by working at the graveyard or stay broke." 

"That's fine, darling?" 

"I know, but I still want to get a job to save so once I turn 18, I can move out. And, he is willing to let me choose my own hours, or really just give me hours that don't interfere with lacrosse practice."

You gave him a solemn look and whined. "But that means we won't have as much cuddle time?" 

"He shouldn't even be in your room," your dad said, approaching you from behind.

"Hi, dad."

"Good morning, Mr. Stilinsk—"

"Isaac," your dad interjected. "It's fine. You can call me Noah." 

Isaac smiled. 

-------fin--------

[marvels-writing-hoe]

The Test of Time

Part One

A/N So, I decided to make a story from my blurb, Baby Girl, it will start back at the beginning of y/n and Bucky’s story together and I’m not sure exactly where it will end. Part one takes place shortly after Sokovia, a party mostly to boost moral. 

Bucky Barnes x y/n Odindottir

🔻🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻

As the younger sister to Thor and Loki, you’d always lived in the shadows, but you were okay with that. You were overlooked by both your mother and father in favour of your brothers. That’s why when Thor invited you to a party with the Avengers, you were a bit wary. 

“They’ll ask me all sorts of questions, Thor. I’m okay living in your shadow and being the ‘mystery’ sister.” 

“Nonsense! They’ll love you Sister.” 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” you mumble with a sigh, “fine, but I refuse to wear a dress.” despite your mother’s qualms, that was the one thing you refused to do. Ever since you were old enough to dress yourself, you would not wear a dress. 

“You will not regret this, y/n.” Thor assured, his hand on your shoulder and a smile plastered to his face. 

🔻🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻

This wasn’t your first time on Midgard, but the world had changed since the 1940s when you were here last. The bifrost had put you down in a field outside New York City before Thor flew the two of you to Avengers Tower. When you arrived, the party was already full swing, Guests everywhere, half of them already plastered. Looking around, you recognized most everyone from Thor and Loki’s stories, but one face you recognized from your own story. 

“Captain.” You said, approaching the man out of time. 

“Y/N?” his face contorted in confusion, “How are you-” 

“I’m Thor’s sister.” You stated simply. You’d known the captain during the forties and your stay on Midgard, but you’d never told him of your true heritage. 

“You’re a god?” he asked, disbelief written on his face. 

“Goddess, technically. But, yea.” 

“Who’s this Steve?” a younger looking red head appeared on the other side of the bar. 

“Nat, this is-” 

“Y/N Odindottir, goddess of love and war. And you must be Natasha,” You stuck your hand out in a traditional midgardian greeting. 

“Thor’s sister.” she took your hand in greeting, “and very perceptive.” 

“Thor’s told me many stories.” 

“I’ll leave you ladies to chat,” Steve smiled to the two of you. 

🔻🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻🔺🔻

The two of you talked for hours, eventually coming to the topic of men. 

“Come on, surely a goddess of love had been in love before,” Nat teased you. 

“Never in love, but there was... something, once. But that man is most likely long gone by now.” 

“Tell me about him? I told you my love story, so you owe me.”

“I already knew yours, but I’ll indulge you. Believe it or not, this in not my first time on Midgard, Earth as you call it. I visited once before, right after Steve took the serum. I’d been summoned by the violent war acts of Johann Schmidt.  His name was James, most everyone called him Bucky though. I met him in the heat of battle, we’d connected, and then he was captured.” You explained, “After Steve rescued him, I saw the two of them several times, assisting them with their Howling Commando missions, and then I was called back to Asgard. But, Bucky and I never became more than friends.” Nat sat patiently, soaking up every detail of my story. 

“Y/N, what if I told you that he’s still alive? Well, some version of him anyway.” She looked me dead in the eye. 

“What?” I choked on my drink.

“He’s the one they call the Winter Soldier. About a year ago, Steve and I got tangled up with him, reminded him of who he was, haven’t heard from him since.” 

“He’s still alive?” She nodded and explained how Hydra had made him a super soldier, brainwashed him to do their work, and sent him after Steve. 

“And I thought Asgardian quarrels were dramatic. I mean, my brother was stripped of his powers and banished here for a foolish mistake.”

“Loki was stripped of his power?” 

“Oh, no. He’s dead. Thor was the one stripped. Before you met him though.” you explained before looking around the room. You noticed the party had dwindled down so now it was only you and Natasha, and a larger group of several Avengers. Thor walked to you, laughing and shaking his head at something one of the others had said. 

“Y/n, are you ready to return home?” he questioned, Mjolnir gripped in his hand. 

“Actually, brother, I believe I will stay here on Midgard for a bit. If, of course it is alright with your friends.” 

“As long as she’s not as homicidal as that brother of yours, she can stay,” the one you recognized as Tony called from the couch. Thor nodded. 

“I will inform mother and father of your whereabouts.” and with that, he spun his hammer and off he went. 

“It seems we both have a missing almost lover to find.” Natasha raised her martini glass to me. 

“It seems we do.” 

Part two

[roniscloud]

dhs - pillow fort

do hanse [f. requested, 1382 words] pillow fort

“i still can’t believe you’re dragging me out for some party. you know i don’t do parties.” you can’t help but feel annoyed as you force yourself out of the passenger’s seat. the look on your face only showing a playful irritation as you turn to your best friend, bomi.

she looks back at you and says teasingly, “but you do care about your friends. besides, it’s my birthday. you’re not getting out of this.”

“fine… only because it’s your birthday.” the two of you head closer to the entrance of the cabin. the cool breeze rustling through the trees, the milky fog emitting from the water, and the scenic views surrounding you help ease your mood. your best friend, bomi, to put it frankly, is loaded. she decided to rent out a huge property right on the lake-front to celebrate her birthday—inviting your entire extended friend group, roughly a dozen and a half people. you weren’t exactly the closest to every single one of them but the overall dynamic of the group always made things entertaining. making your way through the double doors into the large space, you recognize the familiar faces already there. you scan the living room with a small smile as you wave quickly at a few that you make eye contact with. you start to think to yourself maybe this weekend won’t be that bad, until…

“what the actual hell is he doing here?” the urgency in your hushed whisper making it evident to bomi you spotted a certain someone.

“well it would’ve been rude to not invite him,” the words coming out in a maternal manner. “both of you are my friends, i wanted to spend time with both of you. it’s not like i’m forcing you to be in the same room.”

you stare at her with a dead expression, blinking a few times as if to see if she’s joking. “that’s literally what you’re doing. i get that you’re older than me but the mom tone is only pissing me off more.” 

“ok fine… that’s on me. just avoid him, have some drinks, have some fun, and all will be ok,” she attempts to convince you.

do hanse. the man, the myth, the tattooed and pierced jerk who manages to boil your blood at the mere thought of him. bomi trying to convince you of staying the entire weekend with your enemy—well he’s not really your enemy… in all honesty, you’re not sure what to classify him as. all you know is that each of your interactions have not been pleasant—by getting drunk was the only thing keeping you from stealing her car and driving off the nearest cliff.

the hours pass as more guests arrive. there seems to be a silent agreement by you and hanse to avoid each other, so far the plan working well. the night continues on until the dark sky envelops everyone and sleepiness washes over the group, you being one of the last to actually head upstairs. luckily bomi told you that everyone had their assigned rooms, albeit some of them you saw in other places on your way up. you reach out your hand to turn the doorknob of your bedroom, expecting an empty bed that you could finally take your rest on. 

“you have got to be kidding me. what are you doing in my room?”

hanse flinches at your sudden appearance. “this is your room? i’m screwed.” 

“why are you here? i thought you were sharing a room with seungwoo.”

“byungchan and chan took over. now all three of them are there. sejun and seungsik are bunking and i don’t want to deal with sik’s sleepwalking. subin took over the couch and all the other rooms are full.”

you let out an exasperated sigh. “then what do you expect us to do? share the bed?”

“i was kinda hoping that… i promise i won’t do anything. i just want to get some sleep.” he sounds exhausted with a hint of nervousness.

“fine. i’m gonna be in the bathroom. just pick one side and stay there.” you see him nod at your words as you grab your stuff out of your bag and head to get ready for bed. as you brush your teeth, you hear some rustling of sheets. it hits you. you actually are about to share a bed with the person you despise most. you convince yourself to go through with it, reminding yourself that it’s only one night. you’ll survive… you open the bathroom door, entering back into the bedroom to find hanse in bed with a not so typical set-up. “seriously? what is this supposed to be?”

hanse lifts his head from the mattress, “a pillow fort. duh.” he says matter-of-factly as he points at the stack of pillows lined down the center of the bed. “you said pick a side so that’s exactly what i did.”

“you’re actually a child,” you said condescendingly. 

“whatever. goodnight, then.” he lays down again, closing his eyes and effectively ending the conversation.

you stand there, hesitating to take another step. when the initial fear finally leaves you, you make your way to the bed. your hands slowly lift the comforter and you catch hanse slightly shift. you make your way under the covers, trying to not move the bed too much to the best of your abilities. you stare at the ceiling, the drowsiness you felt earlier gone. you feel a shift again.

“you still up?” hanse, now quietly asks, him too staring at the blank ceiling. 

you give him an affirming hum. you lie there together in silence. yet, you don’t feel awkward. it’s weird, but not awkward. the minutes pass without any sort of noise coming from either of you. this time you’re the one to move around, removing the pillow directly between your heads. you turn to face him and ask, “why do you hate me?”

his immediate response is to turn to you with a confused face, scrunching his eyebrows. he sees your serious expression and realizes it’s a genuine question. “i don’t hate you. we just… don’t get along.”

“why?” you pause again, contemplating whether to bring up the past until ultimately deciding to say screw it and say, “we used to be friends.”

“we were. you were supposed to be my friend. that’s all…that’s all I ever asked of you, to be my friend, to care. we were good but then more people joined and it got complicated.”

“what do you mean by that?”

he looks back up, “we stopped spending time with each other and we just… we just didn’t have that bond anymore. we got too busy for each other, life happened, and we changed. whenever we saw each other, we never talked. we got snappy and it all went to shit.”

you think back on all the times you avoided him, all the times you made bitter comments and petty remarks. “i’m sorry.”

you don’t hear any response from him for several moments. “i’m sorry too.” his voice coming out very softly, no animosity.

what happened after was a blur, vaguely recalling a longer conversation of old memories being told and hushed laughs in attempts to not wake the others in neighboring rooms. the next morning, you’re woken by bomi and seungwoo. you hear seungwoo say something about getting dressed for breakfast and hear bomi giggling under her breath. you rub your eyes to getter a better view of the situation and see an arm slung over your waist. you groggily tell them that you’ll be down soon and to give you a few minutes. they finally leave the room and you turn to face the owner of the arm. you gently shake hanse awake, giving him a few seconds to realize that he’s cuddling you. he sluggishly asks, “what time is it?”

“past nine. the others are having breakfast downstairs. we need to get up.”

“fine.” he hums although with reluctance. “you know… i think that was the best sleep i’ve gotten in a long time.” you chuckle at his comment, snuggling your head against his chest once more. “does this mean we’re friends again?”

“i think so…”

“does this mean we can be sleeping buddies?”

“only if that involves actually sleeping.”

“no promises.”

originally written: 24 may 2021