#please let that woman cook something that isn’t eggs

[this-could-be-a-dream]

I do not want Gideon Nav to have a washboard stomach. I want Gideon Nav to have a little bit of pudge that Harrow a) thinks is really hot (she is indeed correct), and b) keeps nurturing by ordering desserts she hates but knows Gideon loves and that in their post-trauma life she always gets when they go on cute dates

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark!) BNHA: Toxic Relationship

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female Reader

Boys -> Hawks + Bakugo + Dabi + Deku

Reaction: Moments from your toxic relationship with your Pro-Hero boyfriend.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship; Abuse; Manipulation; Non-con.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Let me know if you like this reaction format or what 🙂

–

Hawks

“Y/n is a real clutz, y’know. Can’t even walk on even ground without tripping over her own feet.”

Your cheeks flame with humiliation as the camera pans to the crowd that laughs heartily at the demeaning words, as if Keigo had dropped the funniest joke they’ve ever heard. 

“That’s adorable.” the woman laughs, “Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she has no quirk? I believe you said she is quirkless, right?”

Keigo chuckles, nodding as he crosses an ankle over his knee.

“She sure is. Can’t even imagine what type of quirk she’d have, she’s just not the type.”

Your hand grips the remote tighter. What does he mean by that? Does he think you’re not good enough to have a quirk?

You consider turning off the TV, but fortunately the interviewer changes the subject. They casually speak about the current stance of heroes and their struggles on fighting off criminals and villains.

Keigo is charming as usual, delivering answers that are a perfect portrait of responsibility with a sprinkle of humor. He’s good like that, even though his previous answers left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Somehow, they end up reaching the topic of hobbies and free time. 

“Going Pro Hero leaves little time for myself, so sadly I don’t really have much time for hobbies. Wish I had.” he says humbly. “My girlfriend has lots of them, though.”

You inhale sharply. Not again. 

For your misfortune, the woman gets interested.

Perhaps because it’s an exclusive interview and her network channel gave her orders to squeeze every drop of information they can get on Hawks’ personal life. 

“What type of hobbies? She looks like she’s a great cook.” she tries to guess, but Keigo bursts laughing, holding his belly in an exaggerated mannerism. 

“Nah, cooking isn’t really her department. Burned eggs and half-cooked pancakes are more her style. She doesn’t even-”

You change channels in a heartbeat, bursting in tears at the low insults.

You’re not that bad. Sure, you’re not amazing at cooking, but never once did Keigo complain when he eats the food you diligently make after he returns from patrols. 

And now he slanders you on national television? 

And the worst part? It’s not even the first time he’s done this. 

Dabi

“There’s nothing to eat in the fridge.” 

“There is.” 

“There isn’t.” 

You stop writing your notes, swallowing back an annoyed sigh, already aware of what was happening.

“There is food in the fridge.” you repeat, “You just have to cook it.”

Dabi looks at you, unimpressed. 

“No shit Sherlock. Maybe you can do it for me.” 

“You serious?” 

Meeting his arrogant smirk, you huff. 

“Dead serious, babe. Not like you’re busy anyways.”

Your mouth drops at his audacity and you open your arms to indicate the mess of books, papers and pens in front of you. 

“I’m studying, Dabi. Can’t you see that? Grow up and cook for yourself, yeah?” you snap your attention back to your books, but your mood has already turned sour. 

You pretend to scribble down a few words when Dabi walks to you slowly. He peeks into your annotations, snorting. 

“That handwriting is kinda shitty.” he mocks you. “Besides, what exactly are you even studying for? You’re not exactly cut out to be a doctor, y’know? Not enough brain cells in you to become that.” 

You glare at him, angrily swatting away the hand that condescendingly tries to pet your hair. 

“You’re such an asshole, Dabi. Maybe if your life revolved around something other than your stupid daddy’s issues, you would actually get a job. Not like Endeavour is worried sick about you, not when he’s got Shoto.” you spit the words venously.

Not the nicest words, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to bother. 

A dark shade crosses Dabi’s face, his amused expression turning colder. You’d be lying if the sight didn’t ignite some fear in you.

“Is that so?” his crooked smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And why would I need a job - or Endeavour, by that matter - when I have you?”

His hand reaches for your shoulder and there’s an edge in his eyes that immobilizes you. You shouldn’t have mentioned Endeavour. 

“I’m not with you because of that bitchy attitude, you know. I like my girl to know who’s in charge. Respect is really important in a relationship and your behavior is making me really upset, baby.” his tone is scaringly soft, and his hand travels to your neck.

You hold your breath when the staples on his hand scratch against the delicate skin of your throat. “So, if you need me to remind you of your place, I’ll gladly help you with that.”

His fingers heat up at a low temperature, not enough to actually burn you but it doesn’t stop the lonely tear that slides from your eye, the only sign of the chilling terror you’re feeling.

He leans forward, kissing your forehead before sliding his hand away. 

“Are we understood?” 

The nod you give him is shaky at best, but Dabi smiles nonetheless. 

“Now, how about that food you’re gonna make me?”

Bakugo

“I have to wake up early tomorrow.”

Besides a low hum, Bakugo doesn’t acknowledge you much, too busy French kissing your neck.

His hands head for your ass, provoking a wince in you when he gropes it with unnecessary strength, your left ass cheek being kneaded like it’s dough.

Katsuki uses his grip on your ass to push your hips forward even as you complain again. The thin fabric of his sweatpants does nothing to hide the hardness that shamelessly rubs against your thigh. 

“Katsuki.” 

Once again he gives no sign of hearing you, rolling his hips with more urgency and you barely catch the tired groan that almost rolls away from you.

The clock on your side reminds you that despite the early hour, you’ll only have 6 hours to sleep. 

You really have to sleep and if you’re being honest, tonight you’re not feeling sexy or horny enough to sleep with your boyfriend. 

But that doesn’t make you feel any less awkward when Bakugo’s movements turn more vigorous and needy, humping your naked thigh as if he’s fucking it while you remain as alive as a statue. 

“Fuck, this isn’t enough.” he growls against your skin, and your heart skips a beat when his hands reach for your shorts, tugging them down halfway until you panickedly grab his wrist, wiggling your body away from his.

“Seriously, Kats, I’m not in the mood tonight.” you say, quickly pulling back your shorts. 

“You fuckin’ serious right now?” he growls through gritted teeth, still hovering above you. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you timidly nod. 

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow? It’s just that-”

“Yeah, whatever. Not like you haven’t used that stupid excuse on me before.”  

Your eyebrows raise with surprise at the bitter tone on his voice as he gruffs, pushing himself off you. 

“I’m not making up excuses.”

“The hell you aren’t.” he looks at you, angry. “Every time I try to start something, you turn into a damn nun. Always too freakin’ tired,  too busy or not in the mood.”

He scowls, spiky blonde hair falling to his eyes. 

“All you have to do is open your goddamn legs and let me do the rest, and you can’t even do that.”

His words hit a sore spot and he turns his back on you, settling on the distant side of the bed after delivering strained punches to the pillow to soften it up.

“Maybe I go after those Dynamite's groupies that are always throwing themselves at me. Since you never want to fuck anymore.”

You’re left too stunned to speak, sadness blossoming at the cruel meaning of his words and it’s a struggle to swallow the tears. 

He wouldn’t really, would he? But your mind lingers on the disturbing thought. He’s popular with girls, even with his angry mood.

Bakugo is tall, muscular and not even the ever present scowl in his face is able to contradict the attractive facial features he’s been blessed with. Meanwhile you’re just mediocre, if even that...

Your insecurities strike back, taunting you. 

Your hand reaches for his arm before you even realize it, and you’re mildly surprised when he doesn’t shake you off. 

“The hell you want now?”

Pulling on his arm until he finally turns to the side, you kiss him. 

He groans against your lips, allowing your hand to rest on the warm plane of his chest and you let it slide lower until it touches his clothed member. 

Neither of you speak a word, but you feel Bakugo smirking against your lips while he practically shoves your shorts down. 

You allow yourself go limp underneath him, letting your boyfriend fuck you in the way he wants to. Holding back a tired sigh when the fluorescent numbers on the clock mock you. 

You really have to wake up early.

Deku

“Are you serious, Izuku?” 

The tall hero jumps, eyes widening almost comically when he realizes you’re standing on the bedroom’s doorway and not cleaning the kitchen, like he clearly assumed you to be. 

“I wasn’t- The phone-” he stammers with his words, plowing your phone onto the bed with a bit too much force.

Crossing your arms, you flash him a frustrated glare.

“You promised me you wouldn’t spy on my phone anymore, Izuku.” your stern tone has him frowning and Izuku practically sprints closer to you.

“I wasn’t spying! I was just- just checking the time.” his words aren’t convincing enough for you to actually believe in him. 

You squint your eyes at him, dodging his grabby hands with a nasty slap, despite the hurt expression on his face.

“Izuku.” 

“I wasn’t! C’mon, you gotta believe in me.” 

You don’t. 

“Even if I did go through your phone - which I didn’t - why would that be such a problem?” he complains, dragging his voice. “Do you have something to hide or what?”

You point a warning finger at him.

“Don’t you dare. This isn’t about me. You’re the one who went behind my back because you’re just too insecure to fully trust me.”

He shakes his head, emerald eyes turning feverish. 

“You’re being dramatic, of course I trust you.”

“You don’t, stop lying.”

“I do trust you!” his voice rises in volume.

“No, you don’t!” you scream, voice breaking before you crumble in tears. 

You’re exhausted. Of arguing, of dealing with Izuku, of everything. When did things turn so frustrating, so tiring? Why does he always have to ruin things for you?

Izuku curses under his breath before rushing to you, engulfing you in a comforting embrace as you cry on his chest. 

“You don’t. You never will and I know that.” he stays silent, not contradicting you this time. 

He lets you cry on his chest, his hand gently caressing your hair as he mutters apologies. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” Izuku hugs you harder, arms tightening around you. “I’ll do better, okay? I promise, I will.” 

And like a fool, you accept his promise - even if you know it’s meant to be broken.

[winniemaywebber]

14 and 17 from the prompts for Dougie and Olive, please. I love reading their post war life together 🥲

hi nonnie!! thanks for being so patient and I'm so sorry this took so long!!!

from this prompt list - inbox is still open for more of these (:

under the cut to save space.

14. "Let's get dressed up for dinner tonight." "We just cooked-" "We don't have to go out!"

17. "We've been so busy lately, I feel like we haven't been home at all.”

“Here we are, Mrs Douglass. Came in just this morning!”

“Oh, wonderful,” Olive squeals. She unzips the garment bag, stroking the soft duck egg blue material over and over. “It's beautiful. I love it.”

“I'm sure your husband will love it, too,” the associate giggles, zipping the bag back up and handing it to her. “It'll more than make up for the shock of hearing the price.”

“Oh, no, he's not like that, ma'am,” she replies, shaking her head. “Far more easygoing than a lot of men, I think.”

“How did you get him to do that?” another woman laughs from behind Olive. 

“Uhm…just ahead of our time, I guess,” she says, signing her name on the receipt and picking up the dress by the hanger. “Thanks again.”

***

Olive is surprised to see her husband’s car parked in the driveway when she gets home, not expecting to see him until this evening. With an excited smile, she turns the key and wanders in, the bag swooshing over her shoulder as the wind catches it.

“Hi,” she grins, tottering up to him in the kitchen as he leans against the counter, reading this morning’s newspaper. “You’re home early!”

“I took the rest of the day off. We’ve been so busy lately, I feel like we haven’t been home at all. Just wanted to spend the rest of the day with my favorite girl.”

Olive can’t help but agree with what James is saying; between the both of them working, running errands in between and making house calls to James’ mother and the Bradys - John and Jules welcoming their second baby meant that Olive had been spending time letting Jules rest, playing with her namesake niece and holding the soft warm bundle of a newborn as their mama had showered, napped and taken care of herself after such an arduous task - it had meant they’d rarely been home for more than a kiss goodnight and a good morning cuddle.

“And how is my favorite girl, hm?” he asks, tipping her chin to plant a soft kiss on her lips before pushing his nose into the crook of her neck and nuzzling. 

“Fine,” she smiles, his lips now gently dragging across her collar bone. “Bought a new dress.”

“You did?! Let me see,” he says, quickly lifting his head off her shoulder. She lays the bag on the table and unzips, revealing the pleated skirt, cinched waist and rounded collar. 

“Isn’t it lovely?”

“Ollie, you’re gonna look so pretty in this. What’s it for?” “Just for you to look at,” she laughs, zipping it back up and beginning to walk up the stairs to hang it in her closet. He catches her, pulling her arm a little so she stops to face him.

“Gee, how did I get so lucky, hm?” “You told me one funny joke and I was done for, Captain Douglass.”

“Ugh, thank goodness it made you laugh.”

“I thank goodness, too.”

***

Dinner was a simple salad and homemade french fries, Olive finally expanding on her culinary skills thanks to her mother in law. Both of them, in fact, much improved from the first disastrous event in their new home, the newly built kitchen nearly catching alight from a grease splash on the stove eye and something overflowing. 

As Olive finishes setting the table for their meal, she feels James wrap his arms around her from behind. “Let’s get dressed up for dinner tonight. You can wear your new dress.”

“We just cooked!”

“We don’t have to go out. Come on, let’s make a date of it.” “It’s salad and french fries, hardly date-worthy.” “Oh, to me it is. When I’m with you, it always is.”

“Soft baby,” she coos, kissing him gently. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

[blkjimin]

Affairs Pt 2

Summary

Leon and Scarlett end up going out for lunch, Ada was on her lunch break and she sees them at a restaurant…

The sun shined through the sheer blinds. Leon woke up realizing Scarlett wasn’t next to him, he started to look around the large room and then he smelled the glorious smell of something cooking from downstairs.

Leon got up from the bed and went downstairs to see Scarlett cooking bacon and eggs for the both of them.

“Good morning Scar,” he greeted the girl as he looked her up and down.

“Good morning baby,” Scarlett greeted back. “Hope you like my cooking, I don’t cook often but I know the basics,” She told him while putting the food on the table.

“I’m sure it tastes fine love,” Leon said as he gave her a reassuring smile.

Leon waited for the food to cool off then he finally took a bite of her eggs. Leon suddenly had a surge of immense joy inside of but he pushed it down.

“The food tastes delicious Scar,” he told her. Leon hadn’t had a good home-cooked meal in a while ever since he and Ada started, Just fast food, no homemade food since he and Ada started fighting. He missed the times when they were loving toward each other.

A few hours later…

Scarlett was waiting patiently for Leon to arrive at the coffee shop, she was about to call him but that’s when he walked through the door.

“Sorry, I’m late Scar,” Leon apologized.

“You're totally fine,” Scarlett said reassuring him as she got up to order her coffee. Leon followed behind her.

The cashier greeted them as she asked what kind of coffee they wanted.

“Can I get a medium caramel coffee with cold foam, please,” Scarlett ordered.

“Can I just get a coffee with creamer,” Leon ordered as well.

"That will be $7.86," the cashier said.

Leon paid for the drinks while Scarlett went to find a table for them. They decided to reminisce since this was the coffee shop that started it all.

"I mean, I still can't believe that a mixed-up coffee order turned into an affair between us," Scarlett said while laughing with immense joy.

Flashback…

“Sorry for the mix-up, this isn’t the first time this has happened,” the woman said as she playfully laughed.

“Your perfectly fine,” the man said with a faint smile.

“May I ask for your name?” the woman asked.

“Leon,” he answered.

“Mine’s is Scarlett,” she said.

The two started to conversate and they realized they had a lot in common, they decided to exchange numbers to keep in touch with each other. They became really good friends within months.

A couple of days later…

Leon arrived at his home and decided to sit down for a little bit before, he decided to put on street clothes and head out for a walk. He walked upstairs and heard his wife talking to somebody.

"I know baby, I'm gonna tell him eventually but now is not the time because I need this job," Ada argued on the phone.

Ada remained silent for a short moment

"Ok, I'll tell him eventually..." Leon started to walk away from the area while Ada's voice faded out.

He left the house not even wanting to hear the rest of the call. Leon decided to take a walk to clear his mind when Scarlett called him.

"Hey Leon," Scarlett greeted him.

"Hey Scarlett," Leon dryly said.

“You okay? you sound a little sad,” Scarlett asked concerned.

Leon told her everything that happened, he felt like his whole world was shattering but he didn’t let that stop him. He wanted to get his own back…

Present time…

Ada was on her lunch break, and she stopped at a nearby coffee shop but she saw something that ticked her soul, She saw her husband and another female eating together.

Leon was talking to Scarlett when he saw Ada in the corner of his eye.

“And then when I took my dog out-, Leon are you listening,” Scarlett asked as she questioned him.

Leon didn’t respond still staring at Ada. Scarlett started to get irritated by his actions.

“What are you looking at,” Scarlett blustered before she looked behind her.

“Oh, I see now, I’m just gonna go, Leon, see you next time,” Scarlett sighed.

“Wait, don’t go,” he begged as he grabbed Scarlett’s arm from walking any further.

Scarlett didn’t make any eye contact with him, That’s when Ada walked through the door. “So what’s going here, Leon?” Ada questioned.

Eyes were drawn onto them as people started whispering. “Ada, let’s not do this here,” Leon gritted out.

“No, we are going to do this here, why are you here with another woman?” Ada bawled out.

“Maybe if you didn’t cheat on me, this affair wouldn’t even be a thing right now,” Leon clarified.

A pure golden silence filled the room. “What are you talking about?” Ada questioned feeling eyes all over.

“I know you cheated on me with your boss Ada, I know everything. I overheard your conversation with him a few months ago,” Leon revealed.

“You wanna know where all of our money is going, it’s going to this woman right here because she has been there when I was ever feeling down while you just criticized me whenever. All we do is argue nowadays, I love Scarlett,” Leon blurted.

Scarlett just stood there trying to take in everything that just happened. She knew she needed to say something but she didn’t.

Ada stood in place shocked before she walked out.

“This is over Leon Kennedy, we are getting a divorce as soon as possible,” Ada bellowed before she left.

Leon and Scarlett left the coffee shop and they both sat down on a bench nearby. It was silent before Scarlett finally spoke up.

“Leon, thank you for that,” Scarlett thanked him as she hugged him.

Before Scarlett could say anything else, Leon’s lips were already on hers. She instantly kissed back liking the feel of his lips on hers. They pulled back after a few minutes.

“I love you, Leon,” Scarlett confessed as she hugged him

“I love you too Scarlett…”

Part 2 will be the end of this short little series. Hope you enjoyed it!

Part 1

@s0ullex @canaryv @lovesickmari

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Hello! It’s Winter ❄️! I gathered inspiration for this story based on Emmanuel’s mother saying he left letters unopened from other girls. 

————

“Brigitte! What are you doing here?” Emmanuel asked as he opened the door. 

He was surprised to find his girlfriend at his doorstep holding an overnight bag. 

“I really wanted to see you. I hope it’s not a bad time,” she confessed. By now, she and her husband were living separate lives. 

He pulled her close and kissed her soft lips. “It’s never a bad time. Please come in! I’m sorry my place isn’t very tidy. I wasn’t expecting this surprise visit.” 

Emmanuel allowed her to walk in first while he followed closely behind. Other than an empty drinking glass on his desk, the place was immaculate. She chuckled to herself at his exaggeration. Everything with him always had to be perfect. 

“Would you like to lie down in my bed?” He asked, hoping not to come off too eager or pushy. The truth of the matter was, time away from her was hell. He hated every second they were apart. Their long telephone conversations that carried late into the night helped, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to kiss, touch and hold her. 

“Emmanuel, not so fast. We have all weekend for that. How about I prepare some lunch?” Brigitte suggested. 

“Cherie, you just arrived. Let me make you something,” Emmanuel offered. 

She laughed at his earnest offer; however, his cooking was terrible. She wasn’t in the mood for burnt toast or runny, uncooked eggs. 

Brigitte caressed his arm, “It’s no trouble. Besides, I’m a bit hungry myself. I’ll whip up something fast” 

As Brigitte rummaged through the cupboards for a frying pan, a large stack of envelopes caught her eye. Quickly flipping through them, Brigitte noticed every envelope had Emmanuel written on it. Each writing style was different from the next, yet all feminine. 

Her heart began to beat fast. Pink and purple glitter pens had been used, and tiny hearts were drawn around his name. The scent of feminine perfume was still strong on a few of them. 

To her surprise, each envelope had remained sealed. 

“Brigitte?” She heard him shout from the other room. “Brigitte? Do you need help?” 

She didn’t respond. 

“Brigitte!!!??” Still not getting an answer, he raced to the kitchen. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Emmanuel asked, slightly annoyed. 

Looking down, he recognized the envelopes in her hands. 

“Let me explain!” He exclaimed. 

“They’re still sealed,” Brigitte whispered, gently waving them in the air. 

“Of course they are! Why would I open them? They’re from girls I’ve been training. Some are classmates” Emmanuel explained. 

“Why didn’t you read them? Aren’t you curious about what's inside?” Brigitte asked. 

“Why would I be? I have the only woman I ever want right here” Emmanuel replied, reaching for her hand. “Cherie, it’s only you. It will only ever be you - forever” 

“Emmanuel….” She blushed slightly as he made eye contact with her. Their bright blue eyes looked deep into each other’s souls. The spark they had from day one was still there. Except now it was even stronger, more intense than ever. 

Brigitte tossed the envelopes on the kitchen counter, “I have an idea. Let’s skip lunch”

Helloooo Winter! ❤️

The idea of Emmanuel having a bunch of unopened letters from other girls makes me giggle! Because, at the end, he only had eyes for his girl and none of the others matter 🤧🥰

But how he didn’t he have the curiosity to actually see what the letters said hahaha just for fun... Manu!!! 😂

The unopened letters making Brigitte change her mind on what they should be doing do... 🤭😏🔥

Thank you so much, Winter! ❤️❤️❤️

[rocksrntpeople]

MCU Rewatch - Captain America: The First Avenger

After kind of a tough week, I was surprised to find myself genuinely excited for Captain America.

I mentioned it before, but Chris Evans wasn’t who I envisioned being Captain America. I don’t know who exactly would’ve been better (maybe Afleck?), but I just couldn’t see the strong-jawed helmet-wearing hero in Evans’ face.

Well, I was wrong.

Just like the character played by academy award-winning actor Tommy Lee Jones was shown that brawn isn’t the only thing that matters, I’ve come around to Evans as he grew splendidly into this role. In fact, I actually really like Captain America now, and watching The First Avenger again, I can’t really see why I ever had such a problem with it.

I will allow one caveat to that statement: there’s nothing very special about the plot. But who cares? Plot, shmlot! Any plot can be a good movie; a great one, even! Not that I’ve been great about this so far anyway, but I’m going to ignore the plot for the most part here.

Now, let me tell you about what the kids did cook up for this one: vibes. Do you love WWII movies? Have you already seen them all? (No, you really haven’t…) Are you desperate for some new WWII content, but also don’t want WWIII? Perfect!

Captain America is like the movie version of a remix. It’s got all of the best elements of a classic WWII movie, but then riffs off of these to do cool shit like have a guy turn some nazis to powder and having Captain’s BFF fight a mech suit dude.

Then you have other cool things like Steve and Bucky showing physical affection (hugging, pats, etc.) 

a woman being charge

and a diverse group of support soldiers.

It’s like a WWII movie, but with just enough tweaking to make it more modern without losing the charm that only the triumph over Nazis can achieve.

There were also odd references to other movies throughout, which were ultimately funny easter eggs. Like when Tommy Lee Jones’ character is trying to catch a plane and pushes the big red button.

Other than the modern riff on WWII movies, Captain America doesn’t have much else that makes it stand out. Don’t get me wrong; it has great visuals, awesome weaponry, cool fight scenes, and a villain death scene worth revisiting, but overall it’s fairly predictable. However, here are some more caveats: the villain death and of course the post-arctic crash scene.

So Captain America lost this fight, right? He certainly didn’t defeat Red Skull and it’s debatable whether he could have. I think if movies weren’t skewed to let the hero win all the time, Captain would not have been able to defeat Red Skull, even without the tesseract. But, put all this aside because this scene is way more horrifying now that we know what the hell is happening. Because Red Skull isn’t just dying.

His soul is being ripped from his body to be transported across space into eternal servitude to the soul stone.

And the scene is SO SLOW. Omg, we’re watching this guy get eviscerated by a magic space rock, but what we think we’re seeing is just some guy get turned into light by a glowy cube.

But that’s what Captain America is; turning the awfulness of war into cool visual effects! Like the guy on the plane who just turns into red powder when he slips off.

Just kidding, that wasn’t powder — it was CG! (or something, idk; don’t fact check me, please)

 And then there’s the end scene. This is my favorite part of the movie, and one of my favorite Marvel moments overall.

I love that the baseball game gives it away. I really, truly love that the illusion is instantly broken and the fact that it’s broken by a background accessory, not even by anything especially well hidden or a person mis-speaking; just something absolutely mundane. Steve Rogers isn't some Sherlock-style sleuth, he's just a lucky kid from Brooklyn who went to a baseball game one day in the 40's.

And Captain America is ready; he hits the ground running, literally. Then Nick Fury shows up and somehow the camera manages to sink Steve so deep into Times Square, despite the fact that he’s completely surrounded by half a dozen black SUVs, which almost certainly were drawing more attention than anything the camera is focused on. What the camera is focused on is what Steve is focused on. And what a fucking good boy too; he sees he’s in NYC and that’s enough to calm him down…phew, America. He takes everything so well once he gets a good look around!

I think this scene says more about Captain America than any other scene. Anyone could become a super soldier good guy; hell, Bucky does it for a second and then Sam Wilson does too. In this final scene, we see just how resilient Steve really is. He’s being told that everyone he knows is old or dead, he has nothing, he’s in the future, and they need him because shit is about to go down, and he just…goes with it?

He obviously seems a little flustered, but overall he’s super calm and we all know he goes on to stay positive, focus on the fact that he’s in the future (which is always cool [do not chime in, 40K]), and continue to prioritize protecting people! 

Up next, finally, is the first avengers movie!! I fucking love crossovers, so this is going to be fucking awesome. I can’t wait!!

[midnightartemis]

Hellfire and Brimstone

Chapter Two

Eddie Munson x afab!reader (she/her)

Rating: E

CW/TW: Abortion, talk of pregnancy, mentions of rape (coercion by a partner- not Eddie), drug use, religious trauma, abuse, angst, hurt/comfort… let me know if I missed any

Previous - Next - Masterlist

You woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs and toast and something else warm and comforting. Eddie. You shot up as everything that happened yesterday came rushing back to you. Your parents. The look on Eddie’s face he opened the door to you. The way he held you as you completely melted down.

Falling asleep on the couch watching Harrison Ford teach a university class. What was that about?

You looked around and realized you definitely weren’t still on the couch. Eddie’s room looked almost exactly like your imagined it would be. Band posters on the wall. A desk covered in music and paper. Clothes littered the floor. The only thing you didn’t expect was the piles of books everywhere. The lone bookshelf had been crammed so full the shelves would have been bending if not for the stacks of books supporting them from below.

Eddie Munson. Bookworm. Who would have thought?

Part of you wanted to climb out the window and not face how you acted last night. The other part of you knew you had nowhere else to go. And Eddie had seemed sincere in his promise to help you.

You rolled out of his bed and hit the floor with a sigh. Your stomach rolled either with hunger or morning sickness. It was hard to tell. You stood and walked out the door, a little surprised when it clicked unlocked as you turned the knob. Sheepishly you stepped out of his room and walked down the short hall to the kitchen. Eddie stood over the oven, flipping eggs with a spatula. He danced back and forth, quietly singing to himself and you smiled.

He was endearing and kind and (and, dare you say, cute) everything your intuition had told you he would be. Your heart filled with burning anger as you remembered how your classmates treated him. How Jason treated him.

Eddie spun around as he danced, his eyes landing on you. He grinned, raising a rock and roll fist as he jammed out. You realized now that he had headphones on.

The song ended and you clapped quietly as Eddie took the headphones off. You knew he was a performer, but you didn’t realize how magnetic he could be. Eddie’s grin never faded as he took you in. “Morning, angel. Sleep okay?”

You nodded and took a seat at the small bar- the only table in the house it seemed. “I did. Did you… carry me to bed?”

“Uh…” Eddie’s smile faded. “Yeah. You were sleeping hard and that couch isn’t the most comfortable to sleep on. You’re my guest… I…”

“It’s okay. Thank you.” You gave him a small smile and he relaxed.

“I made breakfast. I didn’t know what you like so I made a little bit of everything.” Eddie gestured to the counter where a pile of eggs in what you could only assume was nearly every style rested by a pile of toast and bacon. He draped a white tea towel over his shoulder like a line cook in a diner.

“Oh, uh. Scrambled.”

Eddie winked. “Coming right up. Bacon?”

“Yes please. And strawberry jam, if you have some.”

“Oh a woman after my own heart.” Eddie spun away from you and filled a plate with everything you asked for. He set it in front of you with a flourish and you giggled. His face grew serious. “Now I have to ask you a very serious question.”

“Oh.”

“Coffee or orange juice.”

You laughed. “Coffee please.”

“With cream and sugar?”

You shook your head and Eddie raised his brows I’m surprise. “Really?”

“Really, really.” You grinned.

Eddie poured two cups. One black, which he set in front of you, and one almost white with how much cream and sugar he dumped into it.

You stared at it. “There’s barely any coffee in there.”

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned. He filled his own plate and set it down on the bar top to eat.

You dug in and groaned. “This is amazing.”

Eddie shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“No, seriously, Eddie. This is the best breakfast I’ve ever had. Thank you.” Thank you for everything. You wanted to say.

Eddie held your gaze for a moment and your breath caught in your throat. He grinned and shrugged again. “No worries.”

You smiled softly at him and went back to enjoying your eggs.

Eddie watched as you ate your eggs. God you looked beautiful in the morning. He didn’t want to bring up last night and ruin your smile, but he had to. “You still want to go to the clinic?”

Your face fell. “Yeah.”

“It’s a two hour drive to the clinic. We can get half way there, all the way there, whatever, and if you want to turn around I’ll turn around. This is all up to you, angel. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen.”

You nodded slowly. “I’m sure. I can’t have a kid right now. I just… I can’t.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

You closed your mouth and looked back down at your plate. You shuffled your eggs around a bit, no longer hungry. “How are you so nice when everyone…”

Eddie knew what you were trying to say. “That’s on them. If they want to call me a freak, they can call me a freak. They all hate me until they want something I have. It’s the way it is.”

You frowned. “That’s stupid of them.”

“It used to get to me, but now…” Eddie’s eyes went soft and distant as he thought of something. “Lot’s changed in the last year.”

“I don’t hate you.” You said softly. “I never did.”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah, well, I don’t think you have an ounce of hatred in your bones.”

“I wish I did.” It would make everything a hell of a lot easier. If you hated your parents. Your church. Jason. Did you hate them? You wanted to be angry at them. You deserved to be angry at them. You couldn’t remember the last time you got angry at anyone. “I feel like I should be. I just don’t know how.”

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van, showered, and feeling a little bit better. He’d let you borrow one of his band tees since you only had the clothes you walked to the trailer in. You wondered if your parents had already tossed all of your things out. Maybe you could pick through the trash before it got picked up.

Eddie slid into the drivers seat and started up the engine. “Ready?”

You nodded.

Eddie flipped through a stack of cassette tapes. “What do you like to listen to?”

“Uh… I don’t know. My father never let me listen to anything but church music. And I never really liked what Jason listens to.”

Eddie laughed. “Yeah, same.” He flipped through his tapes before picking one out.

“What is it?”

Eddie smiled secretively. “You’ll see.”

A wall of sound hit you. Fast, punchy piano and horns. Not the electric guitar and bass you thought Eddie was going to play for you.

“Anthony works in the grocery store

Savin' his pennies for someday

Mama Leone left a note on the door

She said, "Sonny, move out to the country”…” Eddie sang out the first lines with the of the song, bobbing his head along as he put the car in drive.

You couldn’t help the wide grin that appeared on you face as you watched Eddie sing.

“If that’s moving up, then I’m…” Eddie posed dramatically. “Moving out! Dodododooodo dodododododododoo”

You laughed and bobbed along to the music with him. It was a good song. Certainly like nothing you’d really heard before. The song faded out and Eddie glanced at you. “Never get tired of Billy Joel.”

“That wasn’t what I thought you’d play.” You grinned at him.

“What’d you think I’d play?”

You shrugged. “Like metal or rock or the ones with all the yelling.”

“Thought I’d introduce you slowly. But, we can listen to that next.” Eddie teased. “A good musician’s gotta listen to everything.”

The next song on the album started playing. A little slower, a little more jazzy. Eddie sang along, not missing a single word. Between songs, he told you little facts about the album and the songs and Billy Joel. He knew so much. You could see his passion for music shining through the smile on his face. It was easy to forget the rest of the world as you sat and listened.

It wasn’t until the fifth track that you recognized the song playing. This was a Billy Joel song? You nodded along to the soft piano. And quietly started to sing the lyrics.

“Slow down you crazy child

You're so ambitious for a juvenile

But then if you're so smart tell me,

Why are you still so afraid? (mmmmm)

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?

You better cool it off before you burn it out

You got so much to do and only

So many hours in a day (Ay)

But you know that when the truth is told

That you can get what you want

Or you can just get old

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through (Oooh)

When will you realize... Vienna waits for you?”

You glanced over at Eddie to find him staring at you, slack jawed. He swallowed and looked back at the road. “Shit. It wasn’t enough to look like an angel, you have to sound like one, too?”

You felt your cheeks go red. “I… yeah, I guess? I’m not that good.”

“Not that good!? You’re amazing.” Eddie glanced over at you. “I’m serious.”

“I… thank you. I actually… when I was younger I really wanted to be a singer. My father said singing was only for the church choir, so…” Singing on Sunday mornings was one of the few things that brought you joy.

You could sing whenever and whatever you wanted, now.

“You should do it.”

“Do what?”

“Be a singer.” Eddie grinned at you. “If that’s what makes you happy, do it.”

You thought about that music program you’d applied to without your parents knowledge. You still hadn’t heard back from them. “Maybe. You know you’re not half bad yourself.”

“Not half bad?” Eddie raised his brow. “Best review yet.”

You laughed.

By the time you got to the city limits, Eddie had already introduced you to four more artists, each one a bit more loud and aggressive. He held up one more cassette tape, growing serious. “This is the culmination of all your training today, angel. This is the greatest album of all time. Literally saved my life once. Are you ready, angel?”

You nodded, a little scared. Eddie pushed the tape into the slot and turned up the sound. Slow, dark, melodic guitar filled the van. You nearly forgot what you were listening to until a minute in a wall of sound slammed into you, drowning out everything with harsh electric guitar and booming drums. Your eyes went wide as you soaked it all in, laughing as you saw Eddie jamming out beside you.

You felt alive. For the first time in your entire life, you felt free. The song ended and Eddie let out a whoop.

“That was… fucking amazing!”

Eddie stared at you, surprised. But the look he saw on your face was nothing but genuine. “You really like it? Seriously?”

You nodded. “Please tell me there’s more.”

“More? Yeah, shit, yeah there’s more. You gotta hear this one.” The next song came on. Hard, driving electric bass.

Master of puppets.

The words caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything about the upside down and how he almost died. It was better you didn’t know. You’d probably think he was insane. Some nights he didn’t believe it himself.

The song ended as he pulled into the parking lot of a small convenience store not far from the clinic. Your smile fell as he turned off the van. It turned into a frown as she looked at the store. “What are we doing here?”

“Stocking up.”

With what? You got out of the van and followed Eddie into the store. He grabbed a cart and led you through the aisles right to the junk food and started throwing chips and cookies and candy in. “Whaddya want?”

“Uh…”

Eddie picked up a candy bar and you shrugged. His jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a snickers.”

You smiled sheepishly and shook your head. Eddie gaped at you. “Okay. One of everything, then.”

“Eddie!” You gasped as he piled in more food than either of you could possibly eat in a week.

The two of you left the food aisle and headed for the checkout. At least that was what you thought until Eddie took a hard left into the feminine products aisle. He surveyed the aisle with a critical eye, picking up one box of pads and frowning. “Watcha like?”

You stared at him. “What… do I like?”

Eddie’s face softened. “You’re going to need a bunch of these. Don’t have much at home.”

“Oh. Yeah. Um…” You frowned as you looked at the wall of pads and tampons. Then it occurred to you, “Have you done this before?”

Eddie ran his hand across the back of his neck. “Like I said… people hate me until they need something from me.”

Like a ride to an abortion clinic. And the confidence Eddie wouldn’t tell a soul.

You looked away from Eddie. “Can I have a minute?”

“Yeah, sure. I just be, uh, down here.” Eddie left you alone in the aisle.

You scanned the packaging feeling woefully underprepared. Was it going to hurt? Was it going to be just a bad period or like nothing at all? Would Eddie know? Did you even want to ask him? You didn’t even have a place to stay tonight and you’d already asked too much of Eddie. You felt your throat close up and panic grabbed two boxes of extra large pads.

You hurried out of the aisle and threw them into Eddie’s shopping cart. “I’ll meet you outside, okay?”

If he said anything, you didn’t hear him as you ran out of the store and hid yourself in an empty alleyway. You couldn’t breathe. No matter how much you tried.

Breathe dammit.

Your back hit the wall and you slid down to the ground.

“Hey.” You looked up as Eddie sat down beside you, two bags in his hands.

You choked back a sob and finally, finally sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. It’s just…”

“A lot?” Eddie whispered.

You nodded. Eddie looked at you seriously, agreeing.

“Yeah… pads and tampons have always confused me, too.”

Was he serious? You looked over to see him grinning and rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“I mean, I’m no expert but I think the ones you picked are great.”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “Eddie…”

“What? It’s true.” Eddie grinned as you looked up at him. You weren’t prepared for the way your heart stuttered when you saw his face. There weren’t any other words to say it– Eddie was beautiful.

You looked away quickly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. Eddie bumped you with his shoulder. “What happened in the tampon aisle?”

“I… I realized I don’t have anywhere to sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, you do. My place. It’s yours as long as you need it.”

“Are you sure?”

“100%, angel.” Eddie shifted beside you. "Besides. You're a much better roommate than my uncle."

You laughed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie jumped to his feet and offered you hand hand. You took it and let him pull you to your feet.

The clinic wasn’t far from the store in a squat brick building with cream accents. Bars covered the windows. Luckily, Eddie didn’t see any protesters today.

He shut off the van. “Ready?”

You took a deep breath to steel yourself and nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to come with?”

You nodded harder. “Yes.”

There was no way you could do this alone.

You followed Eddie out of the van and into the clinic, passing through one security door. The inside was like any other doctors office you’d been to. You checked in at the front desk and took a seat next to Eddie.

Nervous energy raced through you as you sat down. Your hands shook.

“Hey.” Eddie took your hand and squeezed it. “It’s going to be okay.”

You stared at his hand in yours. His huge, warm hands were covered in rings. Your bare fingers fit right between them. It felt right.

A door opened and a nurse with dark curly hair called your name. You shot up, dropping Eddie’s hand like you’d been caught. “Yeah. That’s me.”

You looked back desperately at Eddie. He stood and glanced at the nurse.

She sighed. “Your boyfriend can come too.”

You didn’t correct her. Neither did Eddie.

The nurse lead you to a back room and had you sit down on the exam table while she took your vitals. Eddie sat in one of the chairs, looking a little lost and uncomfortable. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to come back. He’d already done so much. He didn’t need to see you through this, too.

“You’re here for an abortion, yes?”

You nodded.

“When was the start of your last period?”

“Um… about eight weeks ago, I think. I was supposed to get it at the start of the month but it never came. So I took a test and… yeah.”

“Okay.” The nurse smiled. “We will do an ultrasound test ourselves just to make sure. Those home tests aren’t always accurate and there may be something else going on. Always best to make sure before we operate. I’ll be back in a minute with the ultrasound, okay? While I’m gone, put on this gown for me, okay?”

She handed you an off-putting blue hospital robe and left the room with a smile.

You glanced at Eddie.

“I promise I won’t look.” He covered his eyes.

“You can leave if you want. It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want me here?” Eddie peeked between his fingers at you.

You nodded shortly and picked at the seam of the gown.

“Then I’m staying.” Eddie closed his fingers and eyes.

You slipped off the bed and stripped your pants, though you left Eddie’s shirt on. You tied the gown shut as best you could and repositioned yourself on the exam table. “You can open your eyes again.”

Eddie peeked through his hand at you before lowering it completely. He grinned. “You make everything look good.”

“It’s a cotton sack in a horrible color. There’s no way I–” a knock at the door interrupted you. The nurse came back in with a strange machine and plugged it into the wall.

“Alright. I’ll have you sit back for me feet in the stirrups.” The nurse slid out the foot holds and you leaned back, trying to keep yourself covered. The nurse handed you a paper blanket as Eddie got up to stand by you.

“Just need your belly for this.” The nurse pushed away the gown, leaving just the paper sheet to cover your bottom half. “And it’s going to be a little cold.”

You flinched as she squeezed a bunch of jelly onto your skin.

“Sorry, hon. Okay. Let me know if you want to see the screen. Most people don’t. It doesn’t look like much more than grey blobs at this stage.”

You shook your head. “I don’t need to see.”

“Okay.” The nurse pressed the wand to your stomach and moved it around a little bit. She frowned as she concentrated on the screen in front of her. “Yep. You’re pregnant. Almost 9 weeks.”

You weren’t expecting her confirmation to hurt as much as it did. You already knew it, but hearing it out loud from a professional… it changed everything and nothing.

The nurse cleaned you off and covered you back up. “Dr. Sánchez will be in in a moment, okay?” You watched as she wheeled the machine back out.

This was happening. You knew it in your heart that this was the right thing, but you could still hear your mother calling you a sinner in the back of your mind. Sinner. Whore. Devil child.

For 18 years you’d been nothing but a perfect child. You got good grades. You went to church at least twice a week. You could cook and clean and mend and do everything your mother taught you. You slipped up once. Just once.

The door opened again and a woman in a white coat entered. “Hi, I’m Doctor Sánchez.” She took a seat on a rolling chair beside you. “Nurse Tammy said you're here for an abortion? Looks like your results came back positive.”

You nodded. Your mouth was so dry you didn’t know if you could speak.

“Okay. We can make that happen. First though I’m required by Indiana state law to tell you that if you decide to go through with the pregnancy, adoption is always an option. We work with a few agencies who we can put you in contact with. Are you certain you want an abortion?”

“Yes.” You cleared your throat. “I’m certain.”

“Okay. I’m going to ask you that question two more times before the procedure. If at any time you change your mind, you can tell me.”

You nodded.

“Should you go through with it, we will do what is called a Dilation and vacuum aspiration. Meaning I will go in and dilate the cervix before using a pump to pull the uterine contents out and remove the fetus. I’ll be using some local anesthetic, but you will likely experience some pain, cramping, and bleeding for the next few days. If the pain persists or you find yourself bleeding through a pad every couple hours, call us or head the the ER, okay?”

You nodded.

“I have to ask you again. Are you certain you want an abortion?”

You nodded again. “I’m certain.”

More than certain. You need this done. You weren’t ready. You had no home and no money and barely an inkling of your future. You couldn’t bring a child into all of that.

“Okay. I’ll start setting up and then we will get started. Do you have any questions for me?”

You shook your head.

“Alright. “ Doctor Sánchez smiled kindly. “Won’t take long to set up. I’ll be back in a moment.”

She left the room and you sucked in a shaky breath.

“You okay?” Eddie asked.

You nodded, staring at the ceiling. “Just nervous.”

“Here.” Eddie held something out to you. You reached out and he dropped something small and plastic into your hand. A guitar pick with a hole through it, attached to a chain. You looked up at him questioning it. “It’s lucky. Don’t loose it. I need it back.”

Eddie winked at you and you giggled. You held the pick up and spun it between your fingers. It was marbled blue. Nothing special about it as far as you could tell. You held on to it though. You stared up at Eddie. “I think it’s working.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grinned.

A knock at the door had you looking away from him, nervous once more. Doctor Sánchez came back in with a cart of medical tools, syringes and needles. Nurse Tammy followed close behind.

The doctor sat down and positioned herself between your legs. “Alright. One more time. Are you certain you want an abortion?”

Eddie’s hand wrapped around yours and you let out a breath.

“Yes. I’m certain.”

Previous - Next - Masterlist

AN: In this day and age it should be noted that I am not a medical doctor and any information on abortion in this chapter was obtained from a 15-minute google search about abortions in 1986. So take it with a literary grain of salt. Also, fuck scotus.

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 6: The Lost Shoes

Doctor Who : Multishot

Eleventh Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 8569

Warnings: Some being held hostage... some ridiculous fluff... some crazy mystery woman

Request: This is just from my own head 😊 ​

A/N: You and the Doctor spend an evening attending two weddings! Of course adventure happens and a little spice of danger. But so much happens here, you guys. I’m so excited for you to see what’s brewing

Prologue: The Dying Girl

Part 4: The Dream

Part 5: The Regeneration

Part 6: The Lost Shoes {You Are Here}

Epilogue: The Vanishing Act

“And he tripped off the board and tumbled down the slope…”

“I did not!”

“I found you at the bottom in a pile of snow.”

“I was making snow angels.”

“Inside of an igloo?”

The Doctor cracked an egg with a little too much force, getting shell into the pan. “If you’re writing a story, you should make the details a bit more… fantastical. All the greats do it. Dickens. Doyle. Riordan.”

“This isn’t just a story – it’s an account of my life – meaning the details need to be exact and as I remember them.”

He cracked another egg about three feet above the stove and watched as it splashed in butter below. “You could mention how suave and dashing I looked doing it.”

“He was a tremendous mess at the bottom. He lost a shoe somewhere along the fall and snow had found itself into his trousers. He had to strip down in front of the fire to get warm again.”

“Oh please!” he held onto a pepper shaker, realizing he was grinding it upside down. “I did not strip down.”

She raised her eyebrows at his hunched figure.

He whispered abashedly, “Well, how would you know unless you were there!”

“I was there.”

“Yes, yes… well I suppose this is your journal. Don’t spare the details on that score.”

(Y/N) jabbed her pen, “He acted as though I wasn’t there, though he definitely knew. I suspect that’s why he reasoned he needed to be naked to get warm again. He wanted to see my reaction. And let me tell you… you’re not missing much…”

“Scratch that!” the Doctor yelled. “The readers don’t need to be lied to.”

“You just wanted me to say something sexy.”

“(Y/N), please – the most likely candidates to read your journals will be the children. This is a prime moment to horrendously embarrass them in the future.”

She didn’t reply and momentarily the only sound was the sizzle of the eggs in the pan. The Doctor had developed the habit of bringing up their future together without thinking about it. She knew it was because he hadn’t thought about a future family in hundreds of years.

He was rather excited about it now. It explained why he slipped out those thoughts so frequently.

He fiddled with a spatula, suddenly nervous, “(Y/N), I…”

“You better have not gotten pepper in my tea.”

He sighed gratefully, “The brilliant thing about tea kettles is that they come with lids.” He prodded her silver kettle boiling on the stove near his pan.

She laughed, closing her little leatherbound journal. The circlets of writing on the cover titled it “My Adventure Book” in Gallifreyan. She traced those circles and lines with her finger as the Doctor peeked at her over his shoulder.

“Have you gotten used to it yet?”

She trailed her eyes towards him. He had returned his gaze to his cooking, still hunched and busy with his hands.

He had also developed the habit of asking her that question.

(Y/N) quietly rose from her stool to reach him. She placed her hands on either side of his face, drawing his gaze. His brow slanted; his eyes were wide, innocent, questioning. She had seen the same look in his past regeneration.

“All the important things about you are still there. Still the same. It’s just taken a bit to remember – and we both know what that’s like.” She grazed a thumb along his cheek and admired how she could make him smile, “And I lucked out… you’re rather cute.”

The Doctor squirmed under her hands, tip toeing in place as he grinned. “Regeneration’s a lottery.”

She laughed, planting a kiss on his warming cheeks.

He squirmed again, not sure what to do with his hands, “That’s a relief.”

The kettle started screaming, steam shooting out the spout. “Pardon me,” she said, moving towards it.

“No,” the Doctor smacked her reaching hand.

“Ow!”

“Go sit,” he ordered, pointing at her stool with his spatula. A bit of egg flew across the room.

She gave him a look, “I sort of need to make my morning tea.”

The Doctor took her by the shoulders and pushed her away. He immediately twirled about at the stove, “I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.” (Y/N) sat herself down and watched as the Doctor poured her tea and slid the eggs on pieces of toast.

“Oi, we just had a personal moment. Don’t spoil it yet.” He stirred her cup and balanced the saucer and breakfast plate in his hands. “Amy and Rory are engaged.”

(Y/N) eyed him suspiciously, “You’re just now realizing that?”

He placed the dishes in front of her, kissing the top of her head. “Which means they’re getting married soon.”

“Yes, I was there when we picked out the wedding present.” She looked at the breakfast with fondness, “Where’s this going, Doctor?”

He was leaning against the counter, hands fidgeting as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I was hoping – well, what I mean is… I was going to ask you – (Y/N), would you be my date to the wedding?”

She had her teacup halfway to her mouth. She refrained from smirking, “What would I do that for?”

The Doctor stared at her for a moment before rambling on, “Oh, well, I don’t know. If you’d rather we go as friends, that’s fine with me. We’ll always be friends. Good friends. I’ve crashed dozens of weddings with my good friends. Of course we won’t be crashing this one because we’re invited. The point being we don’t have to label going together as any more than just two people that are friends enjoying an evening with their other friends. I didn’t really want to go in the first place; I only thought it bearable if I had someone to go with. A friend, perhaps.”

“Doctor…” she snorted, “You are grossly overcompensating.”

“Oh, good, you noticed that too.”

She reached for his hand, “You’ve beaten me to it. I was going to ask you to be my date.”

He positively beamed, “Brilliant.” He kissed the back of her hand.

A tickle fluttered in her throat and a stream of glittering, golden light flew from her mouth. She felt pinpricks course her limbs as if they had all fallen asleep. She wriggled uncomfortably.

“Still healing,” he muttered, “At this rate I’m not sure how long it’s going to take.”

She groaned, “I’m getting real tired of this ‘still cooking’ business. It makes me feel so woozy.”

“I know,” he said quietly, but he was still beaming. He was talking to someone who now understood the feeling. “It’s filtering your blood slowly – it’ll take time for all your human cells to be replaced.”

“How much time?”

“Who knows,” he shrugged, “I believe your body will always hold onto a little bit of the human in you. Maybe for a couple regenerations.”

Someone walked through the entryway, “Knock knock.” Amy leaned against the frame. “I’m sorry but I’ve got bouquets to make and balloons to blow up. I could use a little help if you can spare it.”

(Y/N) took a bite of her toast, “I’m more than happy to help.”

The Doctor bowed his head to rest it on their entwined hands, “Flower arrangements. How…”

“Exciting!”

“… no, I was going to say boring. I only go to the receptions to dance.”

(Y/N) shoved him away, “Whatever you need, Amy, I’ll help. And more likely than not, the Doctor will follow me.” She went to stand beside the bride-to-be and the both of them faced the Doctor with folded arms.

The man stood straight, messing with his bowtie. “I’ll come along, but not only because (Y/N) is going.”

~~~

Couples were flitting about the reception, swinging in time to a catchy tune. (Y/N) was in the arms of Rory, laughing about the stance the Doctor was taking at the back of the room.

“Look at him staring at us,” she said, holding onto Rory’s hand as he led. “You’re off the market, literally have a ring on your finger now, and he’s staring daggers at you.”

“He probably doesn’t realize he’s doing it,” Rory mused, though there was still an edge of fear to his tone. He didn’t fancy being socked in the face on his wedding night.

“Watch this,” she said, holding tight to his shoulder and leaning towards his ear, “He’s going to crane his neck now as if he can hear what I’m whispering to you.”

Rory snorted, “You’re right, he’s not pleased at all.”

“What an old dodger.” She laughed as Rory spun her around, “He’s just overprotective.”

“Being the last pair of a species will do that to you,” Rory said, “Doesn’t help that he’s totally in love with you.”

“Does tend to throw a wrench into my frequent frolics into certain death.”

“I wouldn’t go joking about that in front of him.”

She gave him a look, “Why do you think I’m joking about it with you instead?” She laughed an easy smile, “It’s sort of hard to comprehend.”

“What is?”

“Him being so in love. I know a lot of it has to do with me being a Time Lady. But he felt it even before we figured that out.” She waltzed closer with him as a way to hide her face near his shoulder. “He must have such pent up desires.”

Rory tensed, “Woah, easy now.”

“You know what I mean,” she laughed, “He’s lived almost a thousand years. You can lose someone you’re in love with only a few times before swearing it off completely. The Doctor has told me about some of them.”

Rory pulled away a bit to look at her face, but she held him tighter, “No, don’t. I don’t want him to get suspicious. Let him think we’re gossiping about him being jealous.”

“He certainly hasn’t taken his eyes off us.” Rory tried to seem inconspicuous, “So you’ve talked about his past wives?”

“Just a little – he’s only had about three he’s been in love with. We talked just enough to know that he understands what it means to lose a wife. It’s incredibly painful. He can’t go through that every couple of decades. That’s why he’s run from love for so long. So very long.” She swallowed hard, “Sometimes he can’t help himself, but he never says it out loud.”

“And this time is different?”

“This time he’s found a Time Lady when he thought all were lost. He found one connected to earth – a planet he loves dearly. After hundreds of years, he actually has hope for the first time in his future. He has a plan.” She held onto Rory tightly, “A wife and kids. Imagine wanting that for hundreds of years but keeping it at bay because it’s too painful.”

Rory squeezed her hand, “Are you feeling the pressure?”

“I’m feeling… unable to comprehend.” She put the hand on his shoulder up to cover her face. She grimaced a smile, “I’m saying it makes sense why he’s protective. Why he’s always checking on me. Why he’s always trying to please me. Why he’s always guilty when he thinks I’m not looking.”

“You need him. And he needs you,” Rory muttered, “That’s the important bit. It’s got to feel nice to have someone love you so much.”

She grinned, “I suppose it does.” She felt a rather painful jab in between her shoulders.

“Excuse me.”

Rory and (Y/N) broke apart to see the Doctor clenching his jaw and looking cross.

“I believe the groom should be dancing with his bride on the wedding day.”

“Doctor…” (Y/N) scolded, “Play nice.”

He turned red, “You’ve been dancing together for nearly three songs!”

“We’re friends!” she giggled, throwing her hands in the air. Rory had shuffled to the side, fisting his hands at his sides.

“You were whispering.”

“Talking.”

“You were holding each other.”

“Dancing.”

He jutted a finger towards her, moving his jaw to the side. He was almost bouncing on his toes as he grew full of hot air. “I am your date.”

“Oh, hush,” she waved his finger away. “No need to be Mr. Grumpy Face.”

“(Y/N)!” Amy was yelling across the dance floor. When she looked, Amy was holding her bouquet and jumping into the air.

“I’ve got to go, darling. Grab me when you’re done fussing.” She winked at him and ran across the room as well as she could in those heels. She was practically squealing and falling when she got to Amy. “Crisis averted.”

“Whatya mean?” Amy said, suddenly concerned.

(Y/N) gave her a look, “You weren’t calling me over here because the Doctor was cross?”

“No, it’s time to catch the bouquet!” Amy waved her flowers between them, “Wait a moment – why is the Doctor cross?”

“Oh, he’s jealous I’ve been dancing with Rory while you handle bridesmaid things.”

“The Doctor is jealous of Rory?” she frowned, “Never seen that before.”

(Y/N) sighed, peering behind her and seeing Rory trying to console the Doctor. “It’s ridiculous. We only talked about him the whole time.”

Amy flashed her hazel eyes, “Well, go out there with the girls and I’ll toss the bouquet in your direction.”

“You can’t just give me the flowers – you have to make it fair!”

“But you know what they say about the person who catches the bouquet,” she wiggled her eyebrows and waited for the growing crowd of frenzied guests. (Y/N) stood near the middle with her legs widespread for easy pouncing ability.

It wasn’t easy either – her dress left little room for sport.

Amy turned around and held her bouquet with both hands, “Ready?”

The crowd of girls screamed in anticipation. A few were already brawling in the back for a better shot at capturing the flowers. (Y/N) stood in her game stance, fingers twiddling.

Amy counted to three and then launched her bouquet. It soared through the air, spun once, and landed in a sea of grappling hands. Yells and tug o’ wars ensued, fingers getting crushed, and dresses stepped on. But in the end one hand rose resolutely.

(Y/N) came toppling out of the dog pile, her beautifully braided and knotted hair coming loose and a sleeve falling off her shoulder. But in her hand was Amy’s wedding bouquet.

“I got it!” She ran at Amy, giving her a big hug. They squealed and laughed, the other girls clapping rather against their will.

“You better keep that. You’re under contract now.”

(Y/N) looked at her, catching her breath, “Contract?”

“I expect another wedding within the year.”

(Y/N) shook her head, rolling her ankles. “I think one of your bridesmaids stomped on my foot. My heel is about to crack off.” Suddenly someone was at her side, lightly pulling her loose sleeve back onto her shoulder.

“You know what they say about the person who catches the bouquet.” The Doctor put his hands behind his back, leaning over her, “That’s rather forward of you.”

“Are you assuming my bouquet has anything to do with you?” (Y/N) mused, turning around to see him. “Are you done making a fuss?”

The Doctor stared at her for a few moments. It dragged on a bit as he looked at her whole figure. (Y/N) felt rather stripped bare as his eyes trailed up and down. She held the bouquet to her chest.

“I do believe there’s a couple groomsmen waiting for a dance with me if you’re…”

“Oh, come here,” and he pulled her towards the dance floor, “You owe me at least three dances.”

The music had picked up from before, no more a couples dance. Lights came flying from the speakers, illuminating the dance floor in an array of colors. The Doctor began to bob his head, shaking his shoulders from side to side.

It was making (Y/N) laugh, almost inaudible with the music growing in volume. “That’s so embarrassing.”

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep it from blocking his vision. But he was not ashamed in the way his limbs flailed about, nearly knocking people out as he went. (Y/N) found herself laughing until she was lightheaded. Still a bit woozy and ‘uncooked.’

“What are you doing just standing there,” he yelled over the music.

“My shoes,” she said. And as she rolled her ankle to show him how loose they were, one of her heels snapped off completely. She now had uneven footing.

The Doctor laughed at her, getting down on his knees. His hands were quick as they trailed down her legs and to her feet. It sent a thrilling tingle up her body. He was trying to pry off her shoes.

“No, Doctor – my feet will get dirty!”

“Well, you can’t dance with one heel,” he said from the ground. He picked both shoes up, snatching her bouquet for good measure. “There – I’ll put these by your purse.”

She watched him bob and weave through the crowd. She felt silly being the only one barefoot. But as she tried to fix her hair, she was suddenly distracted by the lanky pair of arms shaking in the air from the middle of the crowd.

It parted and there came the Doctor sticking his hands towards the sky and missing his own shoes. There were only a pair of bowtie patterned socks on his feet.

“I call it the drunk giraffe,” he called, sliding towards her on his socks.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Being a coordinated date to a wedding – I thought we should match.” He waited for her sweet smile at the gesture before grabbing her arms and thrusting them into the air. “Now just shake them side to side.”

She laughed at being slightly tickled, “I am not doing that. I’ll look ridiculous.”

“You’ll look like you’re having fun!”

And they danced like that for a couple songs. A number of the guests and children came to watch and learn. (Y/N) laughed and the Doctor beamed. He twirled her around and attempted some trademark moves he’s learned throughout his time traveling days.

They were joined by Amy and Rory, making memories she was sure they’d never forget. She was about ready to drop by the time the music downed its tempo. Another couples dance was coming on and though both were trying to catch their breath, the Doctor was looking at her with seeking eyes.

They were deep and desiring. He wanted her close. But he was hesitating.

His hands clenched at his sides, fingers fidgeting. His head was slightly bowed, putting that little hunch in his shoulders.

(Y/N) brushed her hair away, looking at him contemplate what to do next. He was strategizing.

It was making her smile. She decided to cut out the middleman and make the first move.

“Doctor.” She stood close to him.

“Yes,” he breathed.

“Would you like to dance?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling, “Would I ever.” And he molded to her perfectly, one hand on the waist and the other in hers.

They danced gracefully – a major shift from five minutes before – both without shoes but gliding, nonetheless. It was light and hot. Their skin burned where they met. (Y/N) felt her breath stick in her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

He simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked quietly.

He gave a close lipped smile, “I’m stargazing.”

“Stargazing?”

“Yes, I’ve got an entire sky of constellations before me.” His eyes lingered on her dress. It was a deep blue, positively shimmering with the amount of sparkle reflecting the lights. “You’re a star.”

She blushed, finding herself wanting more. She immediately wound her arms around his neck, pulling him to her until they were flush against each other. She could hide her face there.

They continued to sway, but it took a few moments for the Doctor to return the action and wrap his arms around her waist.

She could image them swaying there with his arms outstretched like he didn’t know what to do with them. She found that they were tentative against her back.

“It’s funny.”

His voice was dry and almost cracked when he replied, “Wh-What is?”

“You,” she laughed, “You’re so much more nervous in this body. And you’re not as good at hiding your emotions.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“And flirting – you’re not as good with the flirting.”

“Ah, thanks,” he sighed. “What can I say – I get handsomer but less romantic.”

She hugged him close, “It’s a shame. You were a really good kisser.”

He tensed, “And now?”

(Y/N) was glad her face was hidden. Surely the Doctor was as well. “I haven’t tried it out to make the comparison.”

He hummed, “Put that on the to-do list.”

She laughed into his shoulder. A sudden stream of regeneration energy flew from her. It made her dizzy, like her insides were squirming with it.

“What were you like after regenerating?”

“It’s different each time. When I regenerated into my last body, I was asleep for a day or two. When I regenerated into this body, I had a few hiccups and a quick nap, but then I was fine. Why?”

(Y/N) was sliding in his grip, becoming weak, “Because I’m not feeling so good at the moment.”

The Doctor held her up slightly, “Then uh… come on – let’s get some fresh air.” He thread her arm through his. “The drunk giraffe must’ve tuckered you out. I don’t blame you – it’s an advanced move.”

The air was chilly outside – it woke her up more. They could see their breath frosting in front of them. The sky was dark and blue, glittering with stars just like (Y/N)’s dress.

She sighed, leaning into the Doctor, “That’s better.”

“Really? I thought it was rather cold.”

She laughed, taking his arm and putting it around her, “I like being able to see the sky.”

The party still blazed on behind them – a beacon of warmth and merriment. But (Y/N) would rather stay outside and admire the heavens. If it weren’t for the numbing of her bare feet, she would’ve suggested they stay out there for hours.

But the comfortable silence that fell between them was quickly interrupted.

“Pardon me, miss – but you wouldn’t happen to be the companion of the Doctor?”

The pair of them turned to see a regally dressed man. He looked ready to attend a ball. But that wasn’t the most peculiar thing about him. If you looked past the lemon yellow of his clothes, you saw that his skin had a greenish tint to it. His hair was a beehive on top of his head. It spiraled up in fading colors of yellow and green.

The Doctor held (Y/N) to his side, his voice much more interrogative, “Depends who’s asking.”

“Ah, yes – you must be the Doctor then,” the citrus man smiled. “I was told he’d be the man protective of the miss.”

“Who are you?” (Y/N) muttered, “How do you know us?”

He had his hands held in front of him, his fingertips meeting. “I am Menex, a consort of our lady queen. I have been sent to request the presence of the Time Lords.”

“Time Lords?”

“Yes, the daughter of my lady is to be married tomorrow evening. A feast is being held tonight to celebrate the honor. The lady queen has requested that a member of each species be present at the ceremony. A symbol of good faith and a hopeful rekindling in old alliances.”

The Doctor held his head high and looked down on him, “There aren’t many Time Lords left. You must’ve gone through a lot of trouble to find us.”

“We heard tale of a bounty placed on a lost Time Lady through the Reapers.”

(Y/N) shivered at the thought.

“Since the extinction of the Reapers their records have been discovered. We were able to find what information they’d gathered on the Time Lady and discovered her whereabouts were most likely with the Doctor. A pair we were anxious to invite.”

(Y/N) moved her gaze to the Doctor, “The Reapers are extinct now?”

He blinked a few times, voice low and untrusting, “I may have had a little tantrum while you were in recovery.”

The yellow man, Menex, seemed afraid at those words.

“Pest control.”

(Y/N) swallowed thickly, turning back to the alien, “So you’re here to invite us to a royal wedding?”

Menex was grateful to be distracted from the Doctor’s penetrating gaze. “Yes. And I see you’re already dressed for the occasion. How charming.”

(Y/N) looked down at her dress, “I suppose we are. Doctor?”

The Doctor screwed his lips, jabbing his free hand towards Menex, “I recognize you from somewhere.”

“I’d say that’s rather impossible, sir. I am merely a footman to our lady queen. The only traveling I do is…”

“No, no, no – your species. I recognize your species. Sorbet hair, lemony robes, minty skin… AH! You are an Argolin!” He seemed rather pleased to have figured that out, “Been a minute. Last I heard you lot were at war with the Foamasi.”

“Yes, well…” Menex continued, getting flushed, “It’s been many years since the war. We’re kindling peace this time round.”

The Doctor stuck his free hand in his jacket pocket, now smiling pleasantly, “Right you are. Never liked that Theron. Always conquer and conquest. But look at you now – in charge of your own planet I’m guessing?”

Menex nodded solemnly, “We do not speak his name. It was a travesty we wish to forget.”

“Right. (Y/N), my dear,” the Doctor looked at her with a newfound twinkle in his eye, “Fancy going to a second wedding?”

“Would you like to be my date?”

“Delighted,” he mused, “Lead the way, Menex.”

~~~

The halls of the Argolins were very much like a beehive, though without the buzzing of bees. Many were dressed in their high-collared yellow robes, making supposedly important political conversation. Amongst them were species from every corner of the universe.

It was a good game for the Doctor and (Y/N) to name each of the aliens.

“That’s a Sensorite. And a Vinvocci!” He was bouncing on his socked feet, twirling around as he pointed people out, “That there is a Sycorax – be careful with that lot. And look! A Malmooth.”

(Y/N) was still feeling dizzy on her feet; it was like ants were crawling in her veins. The Doctor spun to the side and snatched what looked to be two martini glasses, but the contents were a complete mystery.

The liquid appeared a rosy pink and carbonated. As the bubbles floated towards the surface, a little pop would appear like the end of a lighted sparkler.

(Y/N) was cautious as she swished the drink around, hoping the pops weren’t scorching like the end of a real lighted sparkler.

“Look at the Hath over there. You don’t expect to see fish in tuxedos, do you? And what about that? That there is a Lakertyan.”

“You sure know your aliens,” (Y/N) laughed, feeling itchy. “I’ve never been to a royal wedding before.” She gazed around the innumerable species, “Wait a moment – I recognize those.”

Across the floor were a pair of humanoid beings with purple eyes and bald heads. Their skin was painted with beautiful floral patterns.

“They were on Axiless the First.”

“Right you are,” the Doctor said happily, “You’re learning.”

“Do all Time Lords go about with no shoes on?”

(Y/N) and the Doctor whirled around to find a woman in a startling red gown. She had honey blonde hair and a glass of the same drink they did.

“Forgive me,” she went on, “My knowledge of the lost Time Lords is limited. I don’t recall any tradition that dictates the removal of shoes.”

The Doctor laughed, pleased to make conversation, “They got lost along the way. Hello! I’m the Doctor.”

The woman met his outstretched hand, “My name is Emma.”

“Hello, Emma,” (Y/N) went on, “What a beautiful name. I’m (Y/N).”

“I overheard some of the Argolins speak of you. They’re rather excited to have your species here. I thought the Time Lords had gone extinct.” She took a sip of her drink, sparklers erupting near her lips.

(Y/N) eyed it apprehensively, making Emma smile, “Have you not tried your drinks? They’re a specialty. Don’t worry – the little fireworks don’t hurt.”

(Y/N) took a sip, amazed at the tickling of the sparking bubbles. “Hmm,” she smacked her lips, “It’s delicious.”

“Thought so too.” Emma nodded, “Doctor?”

“Oh, he won’t drink it,” (Y/N) snickered, “He doesn’t like the taste of alcohol.”

“Oi,” the Doctor said, “I’m a grown up and can enjoy grown up drinks.” He unabashedly took an entire mouthful, grimacing and crinkling his nose. In an instant he was spitting the drink back into his glass.

“Told you,” (Y/N) laughed, “He just holds the glass to make himself look cooler.”

The Doctor put a hand in his pocket, almost posing, “Well… yeah.”

Emma smiled brilliantly, “Might I say you make a handsome pair.”

“You may,” the Doctor glinted, “Might I inquire as to what species you are? I want to make sure my roster is up to scratch.”

“Oh, I’m a little bit of everything,” Emma sighed, “Sort of a hybrid. I didn’t get a formal invitation. But why should that stop me from going to a wedding.” She took a sip of her drink and the Doctor grinned.

“Wedding crasher,” he muttered, “I quite like you.”

“I was rather excited about meeting the Argolins. You know – a dying race.”

(Y/N) stopped mid sip, “A dying race? But I thought…”

“No, after their war with the Foamasi, the Argolins became stunted and sterile. They can’t bear children. They’ve been diminishing in number for years.” Emma peered around the room, “It makes you wonder why they’re fighting for political stance in the universe.”

The Doctor frowned, “Just because there’s few of them doesn’t mean they’re unimportant.”

Emma looked at the pair of them for a few moments, something glistening behind her eyes. “I suppose you’d know something about being the last.”

He was still and contemplative now. (Y/N) watched him with concern, not wanting the night to be ruined by his brooding over the subject. It was not an easy conversation for him – a conversation about being the last of a species.

A tickle dusted her lungs, creeping up her throat. And a stream of regeneration energy fizzled out. (Y/N) quickly covered her mouth, “Excuse me.” But she felt suddenly faint.

“(Y/N)?” The Doctor was holding onto her arm, taking her drink from her weakening hand, “Are you all right?”

“What’s wrong with her?” Emma questioned, moving to help.

The Doctor sheltered (Y/N) against his chest, “She was feeling ill before we came here. I suppose it’s caught up with her now.” He shoved their martini glasses to the nearest pair of hands – a Vinvocci that appeared quite confused.

“She should have a lie down,” Emma frowned, “I could ask a footman…”

The Doctor placed his hands on either side of (Y/N)’s face. “You still cooking?”

She smiled tiredly, “This might be one of those regeneration times where I fall asleep for a day or two.”

He smiled back, though his brow was slanted with concern. “We should go.”

“No,” she fussed, patting his chest, “You want to meet the lady queen.”

“I never said any such thing.”

“I could hear your thoughts,” she hummed, almost closing her heavy eyes, “You want to meet the dying race and see if you can help.”

He stared at her, silent. It was a sign that she was right. It made her chuckle weakly.

“You’re no longer so mysterious to me, Doctor. I’ll have a lie down while you explore. When you’re done we can fly the Ponds’ off to their honeymoon.”

Emma appeared by their side with Menex. He almost blended into the ambiance of the ball room with his beehive hair and lemony robes.

“I’ve been told we’re in need of a sickbed.”

“No,” the Doctor said firmly. “Just a bed for a nap. She’s had a long day.”

(Y/N) smiled and kissed his cheek. “Don’t be too long.”

“Never,” he whispered, pulling back. “You take care of her. She’s precious to me.”

She waved a hand awkwardly in his direction, taking the arm of Menex. She leaned on him heavily, her bare feet slapping on the floor as she wavered.

The Argolin strained to keep her upright, “Of course, sir. Only the best for such an esteemed guest.”

Emma and the Doctor watched as the stumbling pair made for one of the grand entrances. The Doctor remained staring for a while after as Emma cleared her throat.

She had to a second time.

The Doctor turned to her, wiping his face clear of the concern and replacing it with a smile. He knotted his fingers in front of him, “Sorry. I worry.”

“I would too,” she sighed, “Her being your last chance and all.”

The Doctor gave her a pondering look, “And you, wedding crasher, what do you find so interesting about the Argolins?”

She eyed him like she knew something he didn’t, “I’m a hybrid. Full of culture and diversity. So many species. Is it so bad I’d like to focus on only one?”

“You’re part Argolin?”

“The queen will ask to see you in ten seconds.”

The Doctor contorted his brow, “She will?”

Emma nodded, starting to mouth a countdown. “Five… four… three… two… one…”

A footman appeared behind Emma, “Excuse me, miss. Sir, the queen requests your presence at the throne.”

She seemed rather proud of herself as the Doctor stared at her incredulously.

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You couldn’t have seen him walking behind you.”

“Are you going to answer the queen?” she smiled at him knowingly. Turning on her heel, she marched towards the throne, the footman stumbling out of the way.

The Doctor bit the inside of his cheek, pointing his index fingers in her direction and muttering. But after a growl he walked bowlegged after her.

She was waiting for him at the foot of the queen.

“Doctor,” the royal Argolin said from her seat. “We meet at last.” She bowed her head towards him though he did not return the favor.

“Hello.”

“I require your services.”

The Doctor snuck a look towards Emma and the honey blonde of her hair shimmered as she held in a laugh.

“What for?”

“I suspect you’ve heard the predicament of my people. The state of our childbearing. We cannot reproduce and therefore will die old and forgotten.”

“I can’t bear your children if that’s what you’re asking,” the Doctor joked, attempting to deduce the situation.

“No,” the queen laughed lowly, “We require your mind. Your clever mind. I’ve heard tell of your immaculate work at solving mysteries.”

The Doctor looked towards Emma again. “It’s true – I am really terribly clever. What is it you need me to solve?”

The queen sat straighter in her chair. “We have means of curing our infertility. A biological factor that, once implanted, may grant us the ability to bear children again. Therefore, saving our species.” She stared at him dead in the eye, “The only problem is we have not the machinery to harness it and pass it to our people.”

“Let me get this straight. You’ve got a vat of some biological factor waiting to be implanted in your people to cure them of their infertility. And you need me to create a way for point A to get to point B?”

“That sums it up quite nicely,” the queen said, tilting her head down. “Are you up for the task?”

The Doctor sucked in his lips, rubbing his hands together. His mind was already whirring with ideas. “I’ll have to get it done in a jiff. The Mrs. is waiting, and you don’t want to see her cross at me being late.”

“He can do it,” Emma said quietly, “I know he can.”

~~~

(Y/N) felt the cogs of her mind click awake as she groaned. The last thing she remembered was being led down a corridor before passing out from exhaustion.

She willed her eyes to open and found herself uncomfortable. A pain was resting heavy in her shoulders. Shaking her head to wake up just a bit more, she looked up to find that her arms were cuffed above her.

Winding cords fell from the ceiling and encircled her wrists, biting into her arms. She looked further around and found herself encased in a cylinder of glass. Beyond was a team of bustling aliens in lab coats.

She opened her mouth to speak and choked, “H-Hello. Hey, what’s going on?”

The supposed scientists whispered frantically from their control panels and computers.

“She’s awake.”

“Wait for the signal.”

“It’s almost time.”

(Y/N) grimaced, leaning her heavy head against her raised arm, “Why am I here? Where’s the Doctor?”

She shivered, her limbs itching and crawling. A glittering thread of regeneration energy flew from her mouth, hitting the side of the glass cylinder. It ran along the walls until it snaked up the cords binding her wrists.

The golden light was sucked into the ceiling and a number of the control panels blared with alarms and alerts.

The scientists clapped and cheered.

“It’s working.”

“There should be enough for all.”

“We shall regenerate into a healthy and whole people.”

“Wait until it is ready.”

(Y/N) sighed heavily, too tired for proper panic, but she closed her eyes to imagine. Imagine her Doctor running down the corridor to save her.

~~~

The Doctor had his suit jacket strewn across the floor and his sleeves rolled up. A pair of goggles stuck to his face as he worked with wrenches and his sonic screwdriver. He was making silly faces as he fiddled with a number of tubes and wires.

“The biological factor should siphon through this tube and into this cannister. Once it’s full, I’ll put a mixture of solidifying chemicals to make it into a sort of vaccine. It should be easy to administer after that.”

Emma was at the back of the room – closing the doors softly. It was now just the two of them. She held her dress shoes in one hand and a little book in the other.

As she padded closer to the Doctor, he questioned, “No shoes?”

“I thought I’d follow your lead,” she said quietly. She opened her little book and began scanning the pages for something she needed. “You nearly there?”

“I’ve just got to get this pressure gauge working and then hook it to the power grid. Ow!” he zapped his finger on some exposed wires.

She smiled down at her book, closing it. “I’ll get the pressure gauge.”

“You’ll what?”

Emma reached for his sonic screwdriver, opening a panel and fiddling with some controls. The sonic whirled as she plugged wires, “You should know better than to think you’re the cleverest in the room.”

He paused his madman contraption, removing his goggles and letting them rest in his hair crazily. “You know how to work a sonic.”

“Anyone should have basic knowledge of sonic tools.”

He frowned, wiping grease from his hands, “Emma… who are you?”

“A wedding crasher,” she whispered, trying to concentrate. “A traveler.”

“A traveler?” he mused, moving his hands to appear as though he was working. But he listened further. “Is that what you do for a living?”

She sighed, “Well, yes – I’m an archeologist.”

“HA!” he laughed, “Can’t be.”

“I am.”

He made a face, “You’re too clever to be an archeologist.”

“Professional titles,” she mused, “Sounds better than tomb raider or wedding crasher.”

“I’d beg to differ.”

She flipped a few switches, tossing the screwdriver at him. He caught it clumsily. “I travel the universe in search of treasures. Usually long lost family heirlooms.”

“And your family?”

“Told you – I’m a hybrid. My family tree is very expansive.”

“What heirloom were you looking for here?”

She closed the panel, moving towards a row of buttons that she prodded, “I was looking for treasure here. The cure for the people of Argolin. That’s something fun to be a part of.”

The Doctor was staring at her – knowing he was missing something, “Emma.”

She got the buttons to glow with power, “Yes?”

“Who are you?”

“I just told you.”

“Everybody lies.”

“It’s a learned skill.”

“Who taught you?”

She looked at him for a moment. Something was glistening behind her eyes again. “Doctor, you’ve got an anxious queen and a sick Mrs. waiting for you. Let’s not dawdle with things I cannot say.”

“Cannot say?” He stood straight, playing with his suspenders, “Emma.”

“Doctor,” she huffed, “Please don’t.”

“You found me in that ball room. You came up to me from behind. You insisted I meet the queen. And the queen didn’t question you when you arrived. A wedding crasher. You’ve been insisting that I stay and build this machine. Why? For what purpose, Emma?”

“Time traveling,” her breathing was shallow. “Such a funny thing.”

A smile was starting to grow on his face, “How do I know you, Emma?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I cannot say.” But her eyes were still glistening as they looked at him. A warm, familiar smile graced her features. Like she was smiling at something she missed.

The Doctor tilted his head, lifting a hand and pulling a lever, “Geronimo!”

The machine flared to life, buzzing with electricity. The pipes hummed as they siphoned the biological factor from below. The Doctor was pleased again, throwing his goggles to the side and fixing his bowtie.

“Pretty cool, isn’t it?” But he frowned at the expression on her face. “Emma?”

She was looking at the cannister, waiting for when it began to fill. She looked sad – slightly afraid.

“What is it?”

A glittering, golden substance began to fill the glass container. It shimmered and flew around the cannister, desperate to get out. It looked like…

The Doctor ran for the glass, pressing himself against it, just as desperate as the glittering light.

It looked like regeneration energy.

He flared about, looking for Emma, but she was busy searching her little book again.

“What did you do?” He ran for the control panel, making to pull the lever down. But he found it locked into position. “Why won’t…?”

Emma was pressing one of her glowing buttons, “Please, calm yourself, Doctor.”

“(Y/N)!” He bolted for the doors, finding them locked as well. Emma had closed them. He brandished his sonic screwdriver, waving it about to see if it’d do something useful.

“I’ve put everything in a deadlock, Doctor,” Emma said quietly, pressing another button. “You can’t escape. You can’t shut down the machine.”

“That’s regeneration energy,” he growled, pointing at the cannister. It was almost a third of the way full. “There’s only one place you could’ve gotten it.”

Emma swallowed hard, still looking sad, “I know.”

“You knew this whole time!” He knocked over a bench of tools, “Where is she? Why are you doing this?” His anger was overwhelming – spilling over the edges.

Emma remained where she was, book open to a page she needed. “Just 60 more seconds.”

Dread fueled the Doctor, “No. (Y/N)!” His yells scratched at his throat, “(Y/N)!”

“She can’t hear you.”

“If it’s regeneration you want – take me. Take me instead,” he cried, “She still has so much life to live!” He ran at Emma but found her protected by some invisible shield.

She grimaced as he was thrown back, “This is why I couldn’t tell you. You get too emotional. And we all know what happens when you get emotional.”

“I volunteer!” he yelled from his knees, face screwed with emotion, “I’ll take her place.”

“It’s too late,” Emma said regretfully, “Besides you have to have active regeneration energy.”

He practically roared, “Then kill me! I’ll regenerate and you’ll have your energy!”

Emma stared at him and lightly shook her head.

“Don’t you understand? I love her! This will kill her!”

She might’ve been teary eyed when she said, “No, it won’t.”

He went for her invisible protective shield, pounding his hands on it. “You can’t kill one endangered species to save another. That’s not right.”

She gave him a pleading look, “Calm yourself.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he yelled, “(Y/N), please! I just got her back. I just got her back.”

Emma truly looked horrified at what was unfolding. She snapped her book shut, “Three seconds.”

The Doctor looked over – the cannister was only halfway full.

Emma pressed another button and the machine whirred to a stop. It powered down. The cannister stopped filling with regeneration energy.

The Doctor was huffing and puffing, eyeing Emma with confusion and anger, “What is this?”

She swallowed hard, “If I told you the plan you would’ve interfered. You would never have put (Y/N) in such danger. And if the queen knew, she wouldn’t have stopped. She’s too selfish in the quest of saving her people.”

“What did you do?”

“I only took a small portion of her energy,” Emma said, “Now the Argolins have enough to regenerate a portion of their people. And (Y/N) gets to live.”

The Doctor paused his heavy breathing, looking at Emma with a damper on his emotions. “You were saving her?”

“And stopping the end of a species. No energy – no more Argolins. No (Y/N) – no more Time Lords.”

“And this way both get to live.” His shoulders slumped.

Emma couldn’t bring herself to smile. “You can disapprove of my methods all you like, Doctor. But I’m just like you.”

He contorted his brow, staring at her with his red eyes.

“I travel the stars – saving those that I can. Making sacrifices when needs be. Playing the bad guy for the greater good of the ones I love.”

“The ones you love…” he muttered.

She bit her tongue, “Can I take the shield down?”

He sniffed and nodded his head. “Do you know where she is?”

“Follow me.”

Emma led the way down the winding staircases of the Argolin beehive. Book in hand, she counted the rooms until opening the eleventh. It was abandoned except for a chained girl stuck in a glass cylinder.

“(Y/N),” he breathed, running for the glass, “(Y/N), can you hear me?”

Emma played with some controls. “The scientists must’ve fled when I malfunctioned the machine.” At a flick of her wrist the glass cylinder rose off the ground. The chords that bound (Y/N) let go and snaked towards the ceiling.

The Doctor grabbed at her with desperate hands, “(Y/N)?”

She winced, weak and pale, “Oh, my head. What happened?”

He laughed solemnly, “We may or may not have stolen some of your energy to save a species.”

“Ah,” she grimaced, “How charming. I’m a saver of whole species now.”

The Doctor smiled, “Lets get you back to the TARDIS.”

“That’d be good.”

“One thing,” the Doctor held up a finger, turning around, “Emma.”

The woman stood well away, frowning, “I cannot say.”

“How did you know?” At her shrug, he continued, “How did you know we’d be here? How did you know about the queen’s plans? How did you know how to reprogram the machine or stop it at the right time? Or which room (Y/N) was being held in?”

Emma gave the tiniest of smiles, holding up her little book, “I had a bit of an instruction manual.”

He shook his head, an impossible smile growing on his face. “When will we see you again?”

“I cannot say.”

“I figured you say that.”

She waved a hand at him, “I’m sorry for the pain I caused, Doctor. I only did what you would’ve done.”

His smile faltered, nodding once. “Til next time.”

He and (Y/N) rose and stumbled away towards the TARDIS. Though weak and drained, (Y/N) was going to be all right. The Doctor was buzzing with questions, but of course he kept them locked away until he had the time to decipher them.

Emma remained in the abandoned laboratory, staring off into space. She thumbed the leatherbound book in her hands, it crackled with age. She turned it over to read the Gallifreyan of the cover.

“My Adventure Book.”

~~~

The Doctor helped (Y/N) to the staircase, “When she lands, Amy and Rory can see you before…”

“No, let them have their wedding night,” she laughed, grimacing at how it burned her lungs. “Tell them I’ve gone to bed. All the dancing had me tuckered out.”

The Doctor eyed her with concern, but gave a sweet smile, “All right.” As she made to turn around, he grabbed her hand, “(Y/N)…”

She looked to him tiredly. Beautifully tired. “Yes, love?”

His cheeks felt warm, “Are you all right?”

She pondered his green eyes, the way she seemed to be drowning in them. “I’m always all right.”

He grinned, “So am I.”

Her reply was a thank you. But not just any thank you. She placed a hand to his cheek, feeling the growing warmth there. Standing on the stairs, she was just the right height to lean towards him.

He seemed to know what she was doing a second before because his eyes got very, very wide.

She captured his lips with hers.

His arms flailed about for a minute, his body unsure of how to respond. But as she started to move against him, kissing him again and again. He got the groove of it. He kissed her back. He put his hands on either side of her face.

And she was the first to pull away, laughing at the giddy look on his face. He was smiling like an idiot.

Her eyes flickered towards the TARDIS doors, “I think we’ve landed,” she whispered.

The Doctor turned around to see Amy and Rory standing in their wedding clothes. A look of shock was on Rory’s face, but Amy was quaking with her contained excitement. She punched her new husband in the shoulder.

“You owe me fifty pounds!”

The Doctor looked back to see (Y/N) at the top of the stairs and making her way towards her room.

“Doctor!” Amy whisper shouted. “You did it!”

He played with his suspenders, grinning from ear to ear. He pointed at his lips then towards (Y/N), seemingly unable to make any noise. He whistled, touching his lips and then waggling a finger towards the stairs.

He clapped his hands and leaned over to whisper shout back, “We’re kissing again.”

The newly weds cheered and whooped, running towards the console. They shared hugs and congratulations.

“Yes, yes… very well done,” the Doctor said, “Now back to business. Your honeymoon!”

Amy and Rory shared a teasing gaze.

“And for safekeeping…”

They looked back at the Doctor and found his arm outstretched to them, palm open. Resting there was a small blue box. A ring box.

“Doctor…” Amy said in awe, picking it up gingerly, as if it were glass. “You didn’t.”

“Keep it safe for me, will you?” he asked quietly, hands in his pockets, “I can’t have her finding it by accident.”

Rory clapped him on the shoulder, “Anything you need.”

The Doctor smiled like a schoolboy seeing his favorite sweet in a sweetshop. “I love her,” he said aloud. His eyes rose slowly to see the reactions on Amy and Rory’s faces.

“I love her for all of time and space.”

~~~

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[hakasims]

The Most Important Review of Every Single Luca Marinelli Film

Listen, I’m not here to tell you if a movie’s plot is well-structured or whatever, ok? I’m here for objective, factual data on how Luca Marinelli’s brand is adhered to in every movie he’s been in so far.

(all gifs by @weardes​)

La solitudine dei numeri primi (2010)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? No.

Does Luca get slapped? No. His life is hard enough as it is.

Is Luca naked? He’s wearing speedos in one scene, but he’s covered in s*lf-h*rm marks, it’s very sad and not sexy at all.

Is Luca gay? Hell if I know.

Is Luca a slut? He talks to like two people in the whole movie.

Lucameter: 2/100 pathetic (but like I get it it’s his first movie w/e)

L'ultimo terrestre (2011)

Does Luca smoke? Yes.

Does Luca sing? No, but Roberta is a captivating dancer.

Does Luca eat? No, though she takes a shot once.

Does Luca get slapped? Yes, but not in a fun way :(

Is Luca naked? No, but there are some thighs and belly with a mini skirt in between. No complaints.

Is Luca gay? Not enough data.

Is Luca a slut? No.

Lucameter: 1/100 horrible, Roberta deserved better

Waves (2011)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? Yes, drunkenly!

Does Luca eat? They just won’t let him put food into his mouth! Watching Gabriele trying and failing to eat is Hitchcock-level suspense, though it all comes to a very satisfying conclusion when the camera isn’t focusing on him for a second, and he friggin’ inhales the food off the table.

Does Luca get slapped? No, but he gets pushed around a lot.

Is Luca naked? No, but he does take off his shirt a couple of times. Also his legs are like completely hairless?? Has anyone ever noticed that? They shaved his legs!

Is Luca gay? No proof that he is, no proof that he isn’t.

Is Luca a slut? No, he is the sweetest purest cinnamon roll.

Lucameter: 37/100 it’s getting better

Nina (2011)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No, but he plays the cello and dances.

Does Luca eat? No.

Does Luca get slapped? No.

Is Luca naked? No, though even if he was, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it because he never gets any close-ups or decent lighting.

Is Luca gay? He’s shown to be into ladies.

Is Luca a slut? Please, he’s barely even a character.

Lucameter: 0/100 unwatchable

Tutti i santi giorni (2012)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? Yes, and he cooks!

Does Luca get slapped? Yes, lightly, in a patronizing way.

Is Luca naked? Oh yes.

Is Luca gay? He’s religiously devoted to his lady love.

Is Luca a slut? Not so much a slut as a hella thirsty bitch.

Lucameter: 43/100 half down ponytail saves lives

Maria di Nazaret (2012)

Does Luca smoke? No, obviously.

Does Luca sing? No. He dances once - very clumsily.

Does Luca eat? No.

Does Luca get slapped? No, though he almost drops a house on himself.

Is Luca naked? Guys, it’s a Bible movie.

Is Luca gay? Come on, he’s Saint Joseph.

Is Luca a slut? Lol no.

Lucameter: -10/100 just for that hair

La grande bellezza (2013)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? No.

Does Luca get slapped? No.

Is Luca naked? Full frontal, but in a disturbing way. Red body paint is involved.

Is Luca gay? Who’s to say?

Is Luca a slut? Please.

Lucameter: 4/100 which is more than the number of his on-screen minutes

Il mondo fino in fondo (2013)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? Briefly; he mostly drinks.

Does Luca get slapped? No, but he gets a fruit thrown at him.

Is Luca naked? He’s never more naked than a T-shirt and underwear, but those fuzzy thighs strike back hard after Waves.

Is Luca gay? He’s married to a woman.

Is Luca a slut? I mean, he’s married but goes to a strip club anyway.

Lucameter: 12/100 though he looks really hot in this movie

Non essere cattivo (2015)

Does Luca smoke? Yes, a lot, and he does lots of harder stuff.

Does Luca sing? No, but boy does he dance.

Does Luca eat? He briefly chews on something, but he mostly drinks.

Does Luca get slapped? Yes, wonderfully, multiple times, so good.

Is Luca naked? Fully clothed the entire time.

Is Luca gay? He emanates just the most Gay Longing™

Is Luca a slut? Not actually in practice, but the vibe is there.

Lucameter: 86/100 would have been more if he’d had any nude scenes, but that butt in those jeans is very much appreciated

Lo chiamavano Jeeg Robot (2015)

Does Luca smoke? No, he takes care of his body!

Does Luca sing? Only in the best karaoke scene ever committed to screen. And a little in the car with his buddies. It’s wholesome.

Does Luca eat? He gets a whole ball of mozzarella shoved into his mouth. Luca Marinelli... is lactose intolerant.

Does Luca get slapped? No, but he gets sexy scratches on his face, so points for originality.

Is Luca naked? He’s got all the buttons of his shirt undone in one scene, and there’s also like a quarter of the butt.

Is Luca gay? He’s definitely not straight.

Is Luca a slut? He’s a slut for YouTube views and empowering female songs.

Lucameter: 97/100 I was missing The Slap but whatcha gonna do

Die Pfeiler der Macht (2016)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No, but he dances sluttily.

Does Luca eat? Yes, though all the food in this movie looks disgusting.

Does Luca get slapped? Very hard.

Is Luca naked? Not as naked as he should be considering the everything about him.

Is Luca gay? He fucks everything in this movie.

Is Luca a slut? He fucks everything in this movie.

Lucameter: 64/100 weak

Slam - Tutto per una ragazza (2016)

Does Luca smoke? Yes.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? No.

Does Luca get slapped? No.

Is Luca naked? He gives us a full butt moment.

Is Luca gay? Not in the slightest.

Is Luca a slut? Definitely, but it all happens off screen somewhere.

Lucameter: 34/100 the butt is doing all the work here

Il padre d'Italia (2017)

Does Luca smoke? Yes, a lot.

Does Luca sing? Yes, and he dances while singing!

Does Luca eat? No, but he drinks champagne like a fancy bitch.

Does Luca get slapped? Yes, by life.

Is Luca naked? We get everything in the first five minutes. Everything.

Is Luca gay? Yes, canonically and explicitly.

Is Luca a slut? No, he’s full of gay sin and self-loathing.

Lucameter: 99/100 glorious

Lasciati andare (2017)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? No.

Does Luca get slapped? He doesn’t have time for anything else but he always has time to get slapped.

Is Luca naked? Not in the slightest.

Is Luca gay? He just wants to be loved T__T

Is Luca a slut? The virgin vibes are stronger than in the Bible movie.

Lucameter: 8/100 it didn’t have to be this way

Una questione privata (2017)

Does Luca smoke? This movie is covered in smoke from Milton’s cigarettes. Seriously, he smokes all the time. Including the scene where he gets called ugly.

Does Luca sing? No, not even in the scene where he gets called ugly.

Does Luca eat? He drinks an egg, though not in the scene where he gets called ugly.

Does Luca get slapped? No. He gets called ugly, though.

Is Luca naked? No.

Is Luca gay? Strong bisexual vibes from this one.

Is Luca a slut? Again, major virgin energy.

Lucameter: 17/100 can you imagine they had the audacity to call him ugly???

Fabrizio De André - Principe libero (2018)

Does Luca smoke? In every scene. Every. Single. One.

Does Luca sing? Duh, while playing the guitar.

Does Luca eat? Yes.

Does Luca get slapped? No, everybody is soft for Fabrizio.

Is Luca naked? He’s wearing nothing but a bath towel for a whole scene.

Is Luca gay? He’s very much into ladies, although he’s got sizzling chemistry with every male character.

Is Luca a slut? He’s very into ladies.

Lucameter: 94/100 almost perfect

Trust (2018)

(it’s not a movie, but Primo is so iconic I can’t and shan’t leave him out)

Does Luca smoke? It’s the 70s and Italy, come on.

Does Luca sing? Unfortunately, he doesn’t, but he’s one hell of a dancer.

Does Luca eat? Munches on spaghetti like there’s no tomorrow.

Does Luca get slapped? Yes. And he doesn’t forget it.

Is Luca naked? Sadly no, but man does the camera love his butt hugged tightly by those slutty 1970s pants. Also balls. Just... just balls.

Is Luca gay? We don’t know for sure, but his whole vibe is kinda the exact opposite of heterosexuality.

Is Luca a slut? For money and power.

Lucameter: 82/100 would benefit from like a karaoke scene or something

Ricordi? (2018)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? Yes.

Does Luca get slapped? No.

Is Luca naked? Oh yes. And he fuuuuuuuuuuucks.

Is Luca gay? This relationship is so heterosexual the couple are literally called Him and Her.

Is Luca a slut? He fucks a lot, but somehow in a very unslutty way. He’s mostly just sad.

Lucameter: 51/100 and he’s called ugly again???

Martin Eden (2019)

Does Luca smoke? Yes.

Does Luca sing? Amazingly, yes, very softly. He also dances.

Does Luca eat? Yep.

Does Luca get slapped? Finally the slappee has become the slapper.

Is Luca naked? Man, I wish. He doesn’t even take his shirt off like wtf dude what did you build all that bigness for???

Is Luca gay? No, and I think he’d be happier if he were.

Is Luca a slut? No, and again, I think it’d have served him better to be a slut.

Lucameter: 62/100 it’s a fine movie that would’ve benefited from more trademark Luca stuff okay

The Old Guard (2020)

Does Luca smoke? No.

Does Luca sing? No.

Does Luca eat? Briefly.

Does Luca get slapped? A lot of violence happens in this movie, but not a single slap, ridiculous.

Is Luca naked? Shirtless, with a close-up on the nipple.

Is Luca gay? Oh, I don’t know, does being one half of the most wholesome and perfect gay couple count?

Is Luca a slut? How dare you. He’s been happily married for 900 years.

Lucameter: 25/100 none of Luca’s trademarks are present but the epicness of his immortal marriage warms me when I shiver in cold

[let-them-read-fics]

Flames

Requested By Anon "King" -- Cooking au, enemies to lovers, inspiration from Hell's Kitchen

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

AU: Chef (Lisa & Reader are chefs)

Word Count: ~ 5,904

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering / Rivalry, Fluff, Suggestive Scene

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Helllloooo, peeps! I hope all of you are taking care of yourselves and having great days / nights, wherever you are :) Special thanks to this anon for being so sweet in their request -- I love cooking shows, too, so this was a fun one to write. Thank you for requesting! You're welcome in my inbox anytime ❤ Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Three sirloins, dying on the pass!" You shout out to your fellow chefs, shaking your head in disapproval. Service has been running fairly smoothly tonight, but a recent influx of celebrities coming from a nearby award show is slowing things to a halt. 

You give attention to the pans in front of you, stirring each of them in the pattern you've set and keeping a steady rhythm. Consistency is key, and you're one of the only chefs who hasn't lost focus yet. 

The other? Lisa Manoban. 

"Side dishes heading to the pass," she announces, setting the pans down for your head chef to plate and approve of. He does so without a second thought, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

The cocky smirk on Lisa's lips soon falters, though, when he gives her a warning. "You were almost too late, Manoban. Speed things up. Y/N is keeping the pace set, and you need to follow suit." 

Checkmate.

"Yes, chef," she nods, though you can tell she's annoyed. You snicker quietly, and thankfully the sounds of the kitchen conceal your little noise. If your manager were to hear you you'd surely get reprimanded, and Lisa doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing that. 

She returns to her station across from you, briefly meeting your gaze as a competitive fire flashes in her eyes, ignited by the comment from your higher-up.  

This is the routine that the two of you have settled into ever since you were hired five months ago. Both of you had applied for the same position, and you quickly worked your way up to where you are now. Every time you were promoted, she was never far behind. The tense nature of your relationship (if you'd even call it that) is rooted in who can put out the best tasting dishes and receive the most recognition and praise for their work. It's childish, but you'd be lying to say that part of you doesn't enjoy it. 

Especially when you win. 

Tonight is shaping up to be one of those nights, and your confidence builds with every compliment you receive. You don't let it go to your head, though; if anything, you use it as a reason to push yourself harder. 

Lisa isn't discouraged in the slightest, and she produces some of her best work right alongside yours.

"Chef, table 15 has requested for the cooks who prepared their dishes to come out to their table. They want to thank them properly," the server informs your manager, cocking his head to the side to motion towards them. 

After recognizing them as a pair of world-renowned fashion designers, he decides to sacrifice some of his best cooks' time on the line and grant their wishes. 

"What dishes did they have?" 

"Both ordered the sirloin and asparagus with potato purée, sir." 

Your head shoots up at that, excited by the confirmation of what you had been hoping for. Your senior nods to the server, turning around at the pass to look at you. 

"Y/N, Lisa; head out to greet our guests, please." 

"Right away, sir."

"On it, chef."

Both of you inform your assistants of the time left on your respective components before following after the waiter. Lisa not-so-subtly elbows you in an attempt to walk in front of you, but you step on her foot to prevent her from doing so. 

Pushing and shoving each other like schoolgirls until you're in line of sight of the customers, you follow the waiter up to their table. He leaves shortly after dropping you off.

"Good evening, ladies," you greet with a smile, watching as their faces light up. 

Lisa steps forward and extends a hand to one of them, making a crimson blush rush to her cheeks. A new feeling blossoms in your chest at their interaction, and you don't know how to take it. Deciding to just move on, you ask about their meals. 

"I hope dinner was everything you wanted it to be."

"Oh, absolutely. The sirloin was cooked perfectly. Which one of you is responsible for it?"

A proud smile forms on your lips at that, and you bow your head lightly. "Me, miss. I'm glad you enjoyed." 

"I'll have to come back more often, then. Cute and skilled? Count me in." She smirks at you, eyes taking in the sight of you in your uniform as she shamelessly flirts. You blush under her gaze, but hide it with a smug smile of your own.

"We'd be lucky to have you back anytime." 

You shoot a glance at the other girl as well, making sure to keep her feeling included. Lisa's eye roll goes unnoticed by you, as does the dejected look that threatens to show on her beautiful face. 

"My favorite part was the side dishes. The sirloin was great, but that purée was delicious. And don't even get me started on the risotto from earlier," the other woman gushes, praising Lisa's work for the night. The Thai girl perks up at that, her confidence on its way to being fully restored. 

"Ah, you're too kind." She attempts to sound humble, but you know the truth; she lives for this sort of thing. The rush of cooking and serving up dish after tasty dish is thrilling, but nothing compares to getting compliments from the customers. 

"I'm just stating facts..." she leans forward in her chair, obviously eyeing Lisa's chest as she reads her name off of her chef coat, "...Lisa." 

"Oh, yeah? How about I whip you up another batch, then? Any side you want." Your rival offers, a bruisingly sexy smile on her face as she gazes down at the woman. It isn't new for either of you to flirt with the customers and schmooze your way into their hearts (and wallets), but something in the way Lisa admires the diner makes you jealous. 

Her eyes scan over the menu as if she's looking through the options again, but she turns back to bite her lip and toy with Lisa some more. "Are you on the menu?"

She chuckles at the line, clearly not expecting that; she should've, though; it's one of the most overused pick-ups that you've ever heard. 

"I can be--"

Just as Lisa goes to lean closer to her, the waiter comes back. For some reason unknown to you, you release a breath of relief, thankful for the interruption. 

"I hate to break this up, but our chefs are needed back in the kitchen." He informs, linking his arms behind his back respectfully. 

"Ah, that's too bad. Maybe we'll stick around until service is over." Lisa's fan says, looking to her friend with a shrug of her shoulders in a silent request for her opinion. 

"Maybe, if that's alright with you."

Your customer looks up at you with hopeful eyes, though she attempts to hide it to some degree; she's not as brazen as her counterpart. 

"Of course, darling," you decide to play into it. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I do recommend getting some dessert, though; pass the time a little faster. I'll be making the sweetened soufflé, if you're interested." 

"Sounds delicious; I'm sold." She smiles at you, looking you up and down one last time. 

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies." You nod, bidding both of them farewell as you turn to follow after the waiter. Lisa does the same, and you can feel her hot on your trail shortly after. 

"Back to your stations, both of you," your executive chef says upon your arrival, as if you had other intentions. 

"Yes, chef," both of you respond, heading back without a second thought. 

After pushing out a few more main dishes, you're instructed to rotate positions as the desert course kicks off. Other chefs will handle the remaining entrées now and allow you the opportunity to take over with the sweets. 

Once you've buttered and coated the soufflé dish with granulated sugar, you combine the appropriate ingredients in the bowl that rests on the countertop in front of you, making sure to keep an eye on the milk as it heats up on the stovetop. Once both tasks are completed, you stir some of the milk into the batter you made, tempering the mixture. After you're satisfied with the consistency of it, you add the rest of it back to the pot on the stove and carefully whisk the ingredients together. 

As that mellows out, you beat the egg whites required for the dish and add in the different extracts that the recipe calls for. Before long, you've folded both components in with one another and the dessert is ready to be baked. 

"Nice work, Y/N. Keep it up." Your head chef encourages, making pride swell in your chest again.

You continue on with that steady pace, and all of your soufflés come out as tasty as ever, receiving plenty of praise from your happy customers. Lisa works just as hard, though, and her toffee puddings are a major hit with the diners. 

Two hours later, dinner service is finally over. 

Lisa finishes cleaning up her station as she sneaks a glance over to you, feeling her heart beat a little faster at the way you push your hair out of your face. A few drops of condensation tumble their way down the bottle of water that you're drinking from, clearly exhausted and hot after working so hard for so long, and she bites her lip. You're too attractive for your own good, and Lisa reprimands herself for admiring you in such a way. 

You're practically enemies, after all; constantly striving for better positions and more attention, it's a never-ending battle of who can come out on top. She loves the game, if she's honest; keeping you on your toes is one of her favorite pastimes, and the banter is always a plus. 

Especially when it gets heated. 

She loves the way your brow twitches and your lips press together when you're forced to bite your tongue and keep the bickering to a minimum. You're too mature to play into her games most of the time -- not wanting to piss your head chef off -- but sometimes she gets you to break and fire off another reply, not caring what he'll say. 

She loves it. Nothing will ever compare to getting you riled up like that. 

"How's my girlfriend doing out there?" Lisa asks the server with a smile, tilting her head forward to motion to the dining room. 

"They're the only ones still here. I have to hand it to them; they're dedicated." He chuckles, clapping Lisa on the back as he passes her. "They've been talking about both of you all night." He concludes, looking between the two of you before retreating to the break room to change. 

Lisa laughs at that, and you curse yourself under your breath for enjoying the sound. 

"Come on, let's go see them before they storm the kitchen," she plays, winking at you as she pushes the swinging door open. 

At The Table, A Few Minutes Later

"I saved you a bite," your customer says, smiling at you as she reaches for a spoon that hasn't been used yet. Her friend catches the uncertain look in your eye, and she decides to ease your fears. 

"Don't worry, she didn't slobber all over it. She cut that piece out before she started eating earlier." 

You nod, thankful for the clarification. The woman turns back to Lisa, satisfied with her good deed for the day, and the two begin flirting again. 

After the woman in front of you scoops the tasty dessert up, she holds the spoon out in front of your lips. A knowing smile spreads across your cheeks, and you open your mouth for her to feed you. 

She's cute, you must say. Her auburn hair falls across her shoulders in perfect waves, complementing the velvety color of her leather jacket wonderfully. A pattern of freckles runs across the bridge of her nose, and a single, deep-set dimple presses into the soft skin of her right cheek. 

The sound of her laughter carries out across the room as you attempt to take the whole piece in one bite -- she offered way too much at once for a single bite, but you never back down from a challenge. 

Lisa subconsciously grips the tablecloth a little tighter when she sees her put a finger to your lips, preventing the food from spilling out and making a mess everywhere. You giggle and chew it up, eventually managing to swallow it without getting choked. Your fingers wrap around the customer's wrist, gently pulling her hand away from your lips as you rub her tender skin. 

The woman in front of Lisa sighs, clearly wanting attention. 

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She shakes her head, willing her envy to go away so she can flirt some more. 

"I was asking if you have plans tonight. You're probably tired from working, so I figured I could treat you to some R&R." Her tone drops lower than normal, and a suggestive look shines in her eyes as she gives Lisa another once-over. 

"Hmm, sounds like just what the doctor ordered," she leans in a bit closer, egging the girl on. They don't call Lisa a playgirl for nothing. 

"Your place or mine?" She whispers into her ear, sounding desperate to get the chef alone. 

"M-"

Lisa's response is abruptly cut off by the sound of a muffled noise of surprise from you, and she looks across the table again to find the other customer's lips pressed against yours. Your shoulders relax after a second as you return the gesture, but you eventually pull away to put some distance between the two of you. 

Fuming, now too jealous to think straight, Lisa unceremoniously stands from her seat and steps around the table to you. The fact that she was just a few minutes away from taking her customer home and doing much more than kissing is lost on her -- seeing you in such a position with the other woman sparked something in her. 

"If you'll excuse us, my colleague and I have to get going." She announces to the women, gripping your arm to pull you up from your chair. Her hold is firm, and the way her fingertips dig into your forearm sends a chill down your spine. 

"Don't wait up." She adds, dragging you behind herself as she slams the kitchen door open. She's much more bold now that the head chef has left for the night -- clearly she pays little mind to being loud or rough. 

"What the hell, Lisa?" You bite back, attempting to shake free of her grip. 

She only tightens it, saying, "Quiet, L/N."

After stepping out into the deserted hallway and ensuring that the coast is clear, Lisa opens the door to one of the utility closets and pushes you inside. You stumble a bit, feeling the unforgiving edge of one of the metal racks dig into your back as you collide with it. 

"What is your problem?" You hiss, spurred on by the stinging sensation radiating across your back. 

"You," she says, turning around to lock the door behind herself. Your brows furrow, but she's quick to explain.

"Out there kissing that customer, letting her put her hands all over you… it's pathetic." 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Pathetic? Look at yourself, for Christ's sake; two minutes later and you would've been screwing that girl in the back of an Uber." 

She tuts at you, stalking closer. "Don't go telling lies now, Y/N/N. You know I would've taken her home on my motorcycle and then got her in bed."

You groan at her cockiness; it exudes from her in waves, irking you to no end. Sometimes you wonder if she was made to annoy you. 

"Whatever, Lisa. I'm leaving," you shoulder check her on the way to the door, but she's quick to react. Before you can move to unlock it, she has your back up against the door and her hands on your hips, keeping you pinned there. Her lips are on yours in a flash, urgently working against them in a show of how eager she is for you. 

You worked her up out there more than you realized, and she couldn't take it anymore. 

You mumble against her mouth in shock, taking a second to decide what to do with your hands. Should you push her away, or pull her impossibly closer? The choice is made for you when she parts your legs with her thigh, sliding it between them and pulling your hips forward so that you brush against it. 

A groan slips out of your mouth at the new sensation, though it's muffled against her lips. She smirks, letting go of your hips to reach around behind you and untie the apron that's secured around your waist. She praises you as you rut against her leg again, sliding her tongue across your bottom lip to ask for entrance as the material falls to the floor with a quiet noise of impact. 

Her fingertips undo the buttons of your top with haste, and she helps you slide it off your arms. It remains pooled at your waist, still tucked into your pants. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she whispers against your lips before pecking them one more time, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline and towards your collarbone. 

Asking for consent is sexy as hell; especially coming from the goddess in front of you. 

You curtly nod, bringing your hands up to her back. Your nails drag along the material of her uniform, encouraging her. 

"Not so vocal now, are we?" Lisa teases, tilting your head back to grant herself more access to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

"I can walk out this door right now, you know?" You say more than ask, the syllables mixing with moans as she leaves yet another darkening love bite on you. 

"We both know that isn't true," she chuckles lowly, making you weak in the knees. You'll be damned to let go of your pride, though. 

Gathering up all of the self control you possess, you shove her away and pull your shirt back over your arms, beginning to redo the buttons. You suppress the smirk begging to make itself visible when you notice the smug expression on her face fall. Smoothing the material out, you run a hand through your hair and readjust it before unlocking and opening the door. 

The second your left foot makes it through the threshold, she's wrapping her arms around you and tugging you back in. A wave of relief washes over you at that -- you were praying she'd do exactly what she did. You hadn't imagined yourself making it down the hall, and you're not sure if you would've had the self restraint to do so.

"How the hell are you so stubborn?" She asks, letting you take over now. You drag over one of the folding chairs you spotted earlier, commanding her to sit in it with a mere glance. 

"Letting you win isn't an option, Lis. Somebody has to wipe that stupid grin off your face and put you in your place; it might as well be me." 

"How selfless," she holds her hand over her heart, face shining with mock proudness. "I'm touched." 

"Shut up already," you laugh, straddling her waist as you sit on her lap. Her hands instinctively go to your thighs, running up and down them to get you going. She can feel your warmth through the material of your pants, and the feeling is intoxicating. 

You cup her jaw and pull her closer, kissing her at a slower pace now. This one isn't as rough; it holds a whole different type of sensuality, and the occasional roll of her hips lets you know it's doing something to her, too. 

"I've wanted this for so long," she says in between kisses, gently undoing the fasteners on your jeans. 

"Really?" 

"Really." She confirms, untucking your shirt now and running her hands up your back. The cold air of the room slides under the material, ghosting over your newly exposed skin to make goosebumps appear.

"I'm surprised I held out this long," she admits, remembering all of the times she's had to stop herself from making her feelings known. 

You kiss her again before leaning back on her thighs and taking your coat and shirt off, left only in your bra. The lacey material begs to be touched, and Lisa traces the intricate patterns with her fingertips after receiving a nod from you. 

"Jesus," you moan, feeling her other hand palm your ass as she keeps you steady on her lap. 

"So beautiful," she sighs, admiring the way your cheeks have gotten flushed and how your chest rises and falls at a quicker pace now. Her hand guides the movements of your hips, and she can feel her own arousal spread to her thighs at the sight of you. 

"Who's capable of doing this to you? Making you such a needy mess?" She asks, clearly wanting an ego boost, and she squeezes your breast a little harder when you take longer than she likes to answer. 

"Y-you, Lisa." 

"That's right, baby." She kisses you again, a silent action of approval. Your movements stutter as she moves her hand to the inside of your thigh, slipping past the material of your open jeans. 

"Stop teasing already," you huff, resting your forehead against hers as you reach down to lead her hand closer to where you need her most. 

"Fine, but under one condition," she quickly caves in, sliding the thin material of your panties to the side in order to appease you. 

"Shit," you both say at the same time. In any other circumstance, you probably would've laughed at something like that, but now the atmosphere is entirely different. 

Your slick coats her fingers, and she moans at the feeling of what she's done to you.

"What's your condition?" You husk out, pressing your hand to the door behind her to give yourself better leverage to rock against her. 

"Come home with me after. I don't want to stop anytime soon." She kisses your jaw as she waits on your answer, feeling her warm breath fan out across your already heated skin. 

"Deal. Now come here."

She meets you halfway, angling her head up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as she increases the intensity of her ministrations. The sound of the chair's legs squeaking against the floor with every combined roll of your bodies makes you smile, and soon the room is filled with filthy noises of pleasure from the both of you.

The Next Morning

The sound of your phone ringing abruptly pulls you from your dream, making you blindly reach for it. Not daring to expose your eyes to the harsh morning sunlight that's pushing its way past the curtains, you stretch your arm out until your fingers brush against the smooth surface of your screen. 

You shield your eyes as you check the caller ID, only to nearly have a heart attack when you read it. 

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry for making you wait so long." You apologize, cringing at the fact that you almost missed a call from your manager. It was probably only one or two rings away from going unanswered. 

"That's alright, Y/N," he says, sounding generous. He must be having a good day. "I'm calling to ask if you can come in. I have something I'd like to discuss with you." 

Your heart drops at that, irrationally thinking he must've somehow caught you and Lisa at the restaurant last night without you knowing, but you try to remain calm. 

"O-of course, sir. I'll be there in 30 minutes." You respond, already throwing the cover off yourself and moving to stand. 

"Thank you, Y/N. See you soon." 

He ends the call, and you try to decipher his tone. It was level and calm, holding no quality to tell you if he was angry or happy. You sigh, hoping it's nothing bad. 

You stand up and stretch the remaining tension from your body, attempting to work out the kinks Lisa made in your muscles during your tiring night together. It was everything you'd ever hoped for, and your inability to walk properly is a testament to that. 

You find a note waiting for you on the countertop in her bathroom, complete with a lipstick stain kissed onto it. You smile, picking it up. 

Morning, beautiful 

I had to leave early to take care of some business, but there's some toast waiting for you in the kitchen. It's all I had time to make. 

Help yourself to anything else you want in there.

Xoxo, Lis

In an attempt to rid yourself of the annoyingly giddy feeling warming your heart, you take your clothes -- more specifically, the pajamas that Lisa gifted you -- off and step into the shower. The steam doesn't take long to fill the room, fogging up every surface in sight. 

You look down at yourself, watching as suds trek their random paths down to your legs, and you see just how many marks Lisa really left. Your inner thighs are covered, as are your hips, neck, and abdomen, all painted in beautiful shades and designs. She was an animal, and you lived for every second of it. 

Now that you think of it, though, you'll have to dedicate a good chunk of time to covering them up with makeup before you go to the restaurant. You vow to kill her if she makes you late. 

At The Restaurant 

Releasing one last, steadying breath, you knock on the door to your boss's office.

"Come in," he says, sounding pleasant. 

When you walk in and find Lisa sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, you do a double take at her. She sports the same confused expression, but you hide your surprise and shut the door behind yourself before sitting in the seat beside her. 

"Right," he starts, linking his fingers together authoritatively as he nods. "Now that you're both here, I'd like to discuss the latest promotion available." 

Is he really going to make one of you watch while he hands the position to the other? That'll be torture -- especially if you lose. Having Lisa win like that would surely only make her teasing worse. 

"You know we need strong leadership here, and I see those qualities in both of you. I'm willing to offer you both the position of sous chef, if you can agree to work together and continue keeping your standards high. If you get too busy bickering with one another, I'll be forced to choose. You're both talented, so don't make me do that."

Lisa looks over at you, and you smile, completely taken aback. To say you're surprised is an understatement. 

"Thank you, sir." You say, snapping back to reality as you extend a hand for him to shake. 

He smiles back, looking proudly between the two of you. 

"You're welcome." 

He shakes your hand before giving the same treatment to Lisa, making her look like an excited teenager with the way her cheeks pull back in a wide grin. After talking a bit longer and working out a few specifics, the two of you leave, allowing him to attend a phone conference in peace. 

"Eee!" Lisa squeals the second you're out the door, picking you up in her arms to spin you around. You laugh at her sudden outburst, happy to have another sweet moment like this and break the tension that always seems to be swirling around the two of you. 

"I'm gonna kick your ass during service tonight," she says, smirking evilly as she sets you back down. 

"You wish. I'll wipe the floor with you." 

"Oo, kinky. I think that's the only thing we didn't try last night," she teases, tapping her chin as if she's actually thinking about it, causing you to roll your eyes and blush. 

"Shut up, Manoban. I'm sore as hell today, and I still haven't forgiven you yet." 

"Aww, does my girl need some TLC? I can help you with that, you know." 

You try not to think too far into the titles she's been giving you, but that one stands out for some reason. She likely doesn't mean anything deeper by it, but it doesn't stop you from pretending. 

You're tired of the knowing look she's sending you, so you decide to do something about it.

Sneaking a glance around the two of you, you push her against the hallway wall and kiss her. You thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on the strands to give yourself more access to her mouth, just as you did last night. She enjoyed it then, and you're hoping she likes it just as much right now. Clearly, your plan works; as you pull away from her, you're rewarded with a view of her dilated pupils, blown wide as her arousal comes back without warning. 

"That's cruel," she pouts, knowing full well you have no intention of finishing what you started. 

"Think of it as retribution." You cheerily nod, ignoring the heat pooling in your stomach at the way she's eyeing you. 

"See you tonight!" You blow her a kiss before walking away, hearing her frustrated sigh bounce off the walls.

Dinner Service

"Risotto to the pass, please!" You shout, practically begging for the line cook that you're now overseeing to do his job properly. 

"I'm a minute out, chef." 

You shake your head, but choose to ignore his incompetence for the time being. You're keeping things running smoothly, but they can easily be stalled by people like him. 

You focus on plating the entrées of another table while you wait for him to finish, and Lisa slides over the side dish that you need to add. "Thank you," you say, totally in the zone. 

"Welcome," she responds, equally as focused as you. It's definitely a quality that you admire about her; she's playful and fun, but she's serious in the kitchen. You'd clash and this whole arrangement would fail if she were any other way.

"Risotto approaching, chef." 

"Finally," you clap, ready to approve of it and send it out. Thankfully it's cooked well, and the line chef is saved from your wrath -- at least for now. 

"Service!" 

Two waiters step forward following your call, and they load the large trays into their arms before heading to the dining room. 

You get back to work on the next set of orders, reading the new tickets off to your cooks and listening for their confirmation of hearing you. 

"Try this, Y/N. I think it's missing something." Lisa says, grabbing a plastic spoon to allow you to taste test the soup waiting to be sent out. She brings the utensil up to your lips and throws it away once you gather up the liquid. 

"Basil. Tell Amanda it needs basil." 

Lisa nods, listening to you for once without question. She barks the orders out to the young chef, and the girl fires off a couple apologies as she brings the missing ingredient over. 

"Thank you, Amanda. Get back to work, I know you can do it," you encourage her, not wanting to crush her spirits too badly in the first week of her job. She's a newbie, and you remember being in her shoes once. 

Pierre, your host and main waiter, approaches the side of the pass that borders the dining room. You raise an eyebrow at his sudden presence, wordlessly asking what he needs as you stir some pasta in the pot in front of you, twisting it around your tongs to plate it. 

"We have a guest requesting to see Lisa." 

Confusion flashes across your face for a moment, but then it sinks in. Your eyes land on the woman from last night, finding her standing near the front door with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. She waves to Lisa in greeting, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something out of line. 

You can feel Lisa's gaze trail over to you, but you don't look up. 

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute." She orders Pierre, quickly thanking him as he heads off to do as she asked. 

She wants to say something to you, but she doesn't know exactly what. Her feelings are still jumbled from last night, and she's not too entirely certain on where you stand with one another. 

--

You subconsciously hold your breath as she approaches the girl, getting pulled in for a tight hug as if she's known her for years. Was that the "business" she had to take care of this morning? Who knows. 

They continue their conversation for a few minutes, and you distract yourself by focusing on pumping more food out. 

"Good job, team. Keep it up," you praise them, happy to see everyone working well together. They thank you for the encouragement, and promise to keep their momentum going. 

A few minutes later, as things begin to get a little hectic, you sneak a glance up at Lisa. She locks eyes with you, as if on cue. 

You can see her trying to politely leave, but the woman puts a hand on her forearm, stepping forward to flirtily whisper something in her ear. She eventually manages to get her to back away, and she points at the door. The customer glares at you over Lisa's shoulder, leaving you confused but delighted. Seeing her unhappy is a treat in and of itself. 

As Lisa turns around and starts to walk back to the kitchen, you quickly jump back into action, narrowly avoiding getting caught staring. Lisa has a sneaking suspicion that that's exactly what you were doing, but she doesn't speak on it as she rounds the corner of the pass. 

"Well?" You nonchalantly ask, glancing at her in your peripheral. Your hands arrange a new set of plates on the tray between you, and her fingers brush against yours as she adds a side salad to it. 

"She wanted to finish what she started last night." She informs, pausing before she finishes telling you what happened in order to build suspense and torture you some more. 

"I said no, of course," she assures you, smiling when she notices you sigh in relief. "I've got my eye on someone else now." 

"Yeah?" You ask, turning to look at her with a soft smile. Her change in demeanor makes your heart flutter. 

"Yeah. Amanda's looking pretty good, isn't she?"

"Hey!" You shout, a little too loud for your own good, making Lisa laugh. You apologize to the guests and staff before punching Lisa in the arm, ready to get revenge later. 

"Kidding, babe. You think I'd let you go after last night?" She cocks her head to the side, sounding genuinely confused that you could think such a thing. "Not a chance," she smiles, leaning to the side to kiss your cheek and bump your hip with her own. 

Who would've thought you could end up here with her?

[can-youimagine]

Work In Progress Chapter Seven

Summary: After leaving the BAU, you promised you would never go back. But then, you meet your replacement. Your genius, caring, loving replacement, and you can't stop yourself from being pulled back into that world.

Chapter TW: mild self harm (spencer doesn't want to eat) See Series Masterlist for series TW.

Word Count: 769

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Gif credit: @babymetaldoll

He lays against you, eventually falling asleep, giving you the chance to look around the apartment. There are only a few pictures, mainly of a woman who you assume is his mom. His degrees are framed but not hung up yet, and there are books piled everywhere. Most of them look secondhand, but there are a few newer editions, presumably his favorites. His go-bag is set by the door, next to his converse. You can’t help but smile. You noticed them when you met him yesterday but had assumed that he had changed into them. You can’t imagine the look on Aaron No-Nonsense Hotchner’s face when this kid walked in in a pair of tennis shoes.

He starts to stir awake.

“So, tell me, what did Hotch’s face look like the first time you wore those converse?”

He blushes. “What time is it?”

You glance at his watch, which he threw on the table when he got home last night. “Ten ish. Want some breakfast?” Your fingers are still carding through his hair.

“No.” He pushes himself off you. “I’m fine.

You frown. “Fine. Do you mind if I make something?”

“Go ahead.” He stands up. “I really am sorry for calling you here so early.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You dig through his cupboards. You almost forgot that Spencer was a twenty-something, single man. Luckily, he has a few eggs, half a pint of milk, and a loaf of bread. “Looks like you’ll need to join me at the grocery store.”

He shrugs. “I’ll be gone again in a few days.”

You pause in the middle of cracking an egg. “Spencer, when was the last time you ate a homecooked meal?” When he doesn’t answer, you sigh. “You are coming with me to the grocery store, and when we get back, we’re cooking.”

“We?”

“If you don’t want to spend time with me, that’s fine, but I am making sure you eat something good.”

“No, no, I want to spend time with you. I just thought that-I’m sorry.”

The eggs finish, and you bring them over the Spencer. “You have nothing to apologize for. If I didn’t want to spend time with you, I wouldn’t.”

He nods, picking at the eggs. He completely forgets that he told you he wasn’t hungry.

“I’m gonna head home and get dressed,” you laugh, gesturing to your pajamas. “I’ll pick you up in about an hour. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course.” You kiss the top of his head. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” he confirms, and you’re out the door.

This is not at all how you expected your relationship with Spencer to go. You aren’t complaining, but after meeting him in the museum, you weren’t sure you were ever going to see him again. When you did, you were ecstatic. The time you have spent with Spencer feels like so much more than just a day. You feel like you’ve known him all your life.

It terrifies you, but you lean into it. You haven’t felt this happy in a long time. You weren’t going to let it go.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you get back into your car to see him again. God, you hope he feels the same way.

He seems to. He’s waiting outside his building before you get there. He looks a lot better than he did this morning.

“So, before we get there, is there anything you want?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t really cook.”

“Alright, what’re your favorite foods?”

He quickly gives you a list, complete with ingredients.

You laugh. “Sounds doable, though I’m not sure how much of this will reheat.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

“Mind if I make some of my favorites?”

“Please.”

As you pull into the parking lot. “I used to make meals at the beginning of every month. Quickly learned what reheats and what doesn’t. Though, my memory isn’t quite as good as yours. I may have forgotten.”

“Just have to eat yours first.”

The two of you walk through the store, throwing a little bit of everything in your cart. You completely forget about your need for food, only grabbing things for him. Throughout the trip, you ask about different foods, wanting to see his face light up again as he explains it.

Who knew there was so much to know about corn?

It isn’t until you get to the check-out line that you realize you never got anything for yourself. But, Spencer is telling you about whatever is on the cover of Time Magazine, and you can’t bring yourself to leave.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 27

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 27 - This Venerable One Will Cook You A Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning felt completely faint.

He blamed himself for being so distracted and unsuspecting on Life-Death Peak. He didn't even notice someone come over.

What was going on? Where did this child come from? His last name was Mo, but Mo. . . what was is again. . . ? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo. . . Yu?

He composed himself and put on an expression that screamed: "get away". The surprise and panic in his phoenix eyes were quickly masked by his usual harsh and threatening demeanour.

"You—"

He raised his hand out of habit to discipline him, but something suddenly caught his wrist.

Chu Wanning was stunned.

He had been around for a while yet no one had ever dared grab his wrist so casually. For a while, he was frozen in place, not knowing what he should do.

Pull it away and give him a backhanded slap?

. . . It felt like a good word to describe that would be "indecent," like he was no different from a woman in this situation.

Then pull his hand away and not slap him?

. . . Wouldn't that seem like he was being too nice?

Chu Wanning hesitated for a long time and didn't move but the young man laughed: "What's this on your hand? It's pretty good-looking, do you teach how to make stuff like this? Everyone else has introduced themselves already but you haven't spoken yet. Which elder are you? Hey, do you have a headache?"

With so many questions thrown at him, while Chu Wanning's mind hadn't hurt before, now it did.

His mind felt like it was about to split in half. . .

As he got irritated, a golden light in his hand started to glow. When they saw that Tianwen was about to be summoned, the other elders were horrified and moved - Chu Wanning was crazy, right? He would even dare to whip Young Master Mo?

Then, Mo Ran was suddenly holding his hand.

Now Mo Ran had trapped both of his hands. Mo Ran didn't up on the danger of his situation. He pulled him closer and stood in front of him. He tilted his head and said with a smile: "My name is Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but just from looking at you, I like you the most. How about I worship you as my shizun, okay?"

This was completely unexpected. The people around them were even more horrified. Several elders gaped with mouths ajar.

Elder Xuanji: "Huh?"

Elder Pojun: "What!"

Elder Qisha: "Oh?"

Elder Jielu: "Uh. . ."

Elder Tanlang: "Hah, ridiculous."

Elder Lucun was the most feminine of the bunch with wavy hair and eyes flooded with peach blossoms: "Ah, this little boy is so bold. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's ass."

". . . I beg you, can you not say something so repulsive?" Qisha said with disgust.

Lucun rolled his eyes gracefully and hummed: "Fine, let me put it more eloquently. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's buttocks."

Qisha: ". . ." Just kill him and forget this ever happened.

The most popular of all the elders was the gentle and jade-like elder Xuanji. His techniques were easy to learn, and he was a modest gentleman. Most of the disciples on Life-Death Peak worshipped underneath him.

Chu Wanning originally thought that this Mo Ran would've been just like all the others. If not Elder Xuanji, then it should be the energetic Elder Pojun. It never should have been his turn

But Mo Ran was standing so close to him. His face showed a kind of intimacy and affection that was unfamiliar to him. He was like some clown that was just chosen. It was all so distressing for no reason.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "awe", "fear" and "disgust". Something like "affection" was too complicated.

He didn't even have to think about it. He immediately rejected Mo Ran.

The young man froze. Hidden under his slender eyelashes, there was a sense of loneliness and unwillingness in his eyes. He lowered his head, thought for a second, and unreasonably muttered: "Anyways, I still choose you."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Lord was watching with great interest. He piped in with a smile:, "A-Ran, do you know who he is?"

"He didn't tell me, how would I?"

"Haha, since you don't know who he is, why would you pick him?"

Mo Ran was still tugging on Chu Wanning's hands. He turned his head, smiling and said to the Lord: "Because he looks the most gentle and easiest to talk to."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open, everything appearing fuzzy.

. . . That was one hell of a scene to see.

He didn't know what the hell was wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then to actually think that he was gentle. Not to mention that all of Life-Death Peak heard about it. They all sent affectionate greetings to Young Master Mo Ran with looks that said "look at this foolish kid".

Chu Wanning lifted his hand to the corner of his faintly throbbing forehead.

His shoulder hurt, his mind was in turmoil, his stomach was hungry, and his head was spinning.

It seemed like he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

He fumed on the bed for a while. He sat up and was about to light a stick of incense to calm his mind when suddenly there was another knock on the door.

Mo Ran was outside.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

He didn't answer. He didn't say whether to stay or leave.

But this time, the door opened by itself.

Chu Wanning looked up gloomily. The lit match in his hand hovered in mid-air but never reached the stick of incense. After a while, it went out.

Chu Wanning said: "Get out."

Mo Ran strolled in.

He was holding a steaming bowl of noodles, fresh from the pot.

This time it was a bit simpler. The noodles weren't as fancy. The rich white noodle soup was garnished with chopped green onion and white sesame seeds, small spare ribs, bok choy, and a slightly browned poached egg.

Chu Wanning was incredibly hungry but he didn't let it show on his face. He glanced at the noodles, then at Mo Ran. He turned his face away and didn't say anything.

Mo Ran put the noodles on the table, and gently said: "I asked the inn's chef to make another bowl."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes.

Sure enough, Mo Ran didn't make this dish himself.

"Eat some." Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, has no beef, and no bean sprouts."

After speaking, he left and closed the door for Chu Wanning on his way out.

He apologized for Chu Wanning's injury.

But he could only do so much.

In the room, Chu Wanning leaned against the window, not knowing what to think. He crossed his arms and stared at the bowl of spare rib noodles from a distance until the heat of the noodles dissipated and they grew cold.

He finally walked over and sat down. He picked up the chopsticks, stirred up the cold and soggy noodles, and slowly ate them.

The case of the Chen family's haunting had been closed.

The next day, they picked up the black horses they had boarded from inside the stables and returned to the sect the same way they had arrived.

In the streets and alleys, tea stalls and rice shops, the people of Caidie Town were all talking about the Chen family's affairs.

The not-so-small town had broken out in scandal, one large enough for the townspeople to talk about it for a whole year.

"I didn't expect that Young Master Chen had been secretly married to Miss Luo for so long. Miss Luo is so pitiful."

"If you ask me, if the Chen family hadn't gotten rich, they wouldn't be able to survive this affair. Sure enough, men can't handle their money. Once they have money, only misfortune will await them."

One man was unhappy and said: "This wasn't Young Master Chen's fault. It's his parents' fault. Mr. Chen, that son of a bitch. His children and grandchildren should only give birth to children without assholes in the future."

Another said: "The dead are pitiful but what about the living? Look at Chen Yao, Yao Qianjin. She's the one who's truly been wronged. That black-hearted mother of the Chen family deceived her. Tell me, what should she do now?"

"Just get remarried."

The man rolled his eyes and sneered: "Remarried? Are you here to get married?"

The mud-coated man who was teased bared his teeth and picked at them, grinning: "If that woman at home agrees, I'd marry her. Ms. Yao looks so beautiful, I don't mind her being a widow."

"Bah, the toad wants to eat swan meat*."

(T/N: 癩蛤蟆想吃天鵝肉 - means having unrealistic wishes or expectations)

Mo Ran sat on the back of the horse, ears perked up, listening to all the conversations in high spirits. If it weren't for Chu Wanning's closed eyes, frown, and the words "extremely noisy" essentially spelled out on his forehead, Mo Ran might have wanted to go join the villagers.

They walked together and finally left the main city, arriving at the outskirts.

Shi Mei suddenly gasped and pointed to the distance: "Shizun, look over there."

In front of the ruined Master of Ceremonies Ghost's earthen temple, there was a large group of peasants in brown clothes and shorts. They were busy moving the bricks and stones. It seemed that they were planning to repair the damaged earthen temple and remould the golden body of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost.

Shi Mei said anxiously: "Shizun, the old Master of Ceremonies Ghost is gone but they've made a new one. Will this be cultivated into an immortal body again and do evil?"

Chu Wanning: "I don't know."

"Should we go and persuade them not to?"

Chu Wanning: "The custom of ghost marriages in Caidie Town has been around for several generations. How would you or I be able to persuade them in just a few words? Let's go."

As he spoke, dust flew up from the horse's hoof and he walked away.

It was already dusk when they returned to Life-Death Peak.

Chu Wanning said to the two disciples in front of the mountain gate: "You go to Danxin Hall and explain what happened. I'll go to the Court of Discipline."

Mo Ran looked puzzled: "Why would you go to the Court of Discipline?"

Shi Mei, on the other hand, looked worried: ". . ."

Chu Wanning nonchalantly said: "To receive my punishment."

Although it's said that an emperor commits the same crime as the common people, what emperor would actually have to go to jail for killing someone? The same goes for the cultivation world.

The elders who break the sect rules are as equally guilty as the disciples - in most sects, it's just empty talk.

In fact, if an elder breaks a rule, it was good enough just to write an apology letter. What fool would actually go to be punished with a willow vine or dozens of sticks?

So, after listening to Chu Wanning's explanation, Elder Jielu's complexion turned green.

"No, Elder Yuheng, did you really. . . did you really beat your client?"

Chu Wanning was indifferent: "Yes."

"You're so. . ."

Chu Wanning raised his stare and gave him a sullen look. Elder Jielu shut up.

"According to the law, for breaking this rule, the punishment is two hundred cane strikes, kneeling in Wushan Temple for seven days, and being forbidden from leaving the grounds for three months." Chu Wanning said. "I have no defence, and I voluntarily accept the punishment."

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

He looked around and hooked his fingers, and the door to the Court of Discipline closed with a clang. The surroundings fell silent, and it was only the two of them that stood opposite each other.

Chu Wanning: "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Elder Yuheng, it’s not that you don't understand the rules and their consequences, it's just that it shouldn't be something that you should be overly concerned with. This matter is finished. Let's forget it. If I beat you, won't the Lord be angry with me when he finds out?"

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk such nonsense with him and simply said: "I hold people accountable according to the law, and I should also be held accountable myself according to the law."

Kneeling down in front of the hall, facing the plaque of sect rules, he said:

"Punish me."

[bonkie-barnes]

Apartment 3C

natasha romanoff x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: brief mentions of injuries 

A/N: does the dog die.com.....yes, i am sorry. enemies to lovers kinda?? idk she’s mean to you until she’s not. i try to keep it gender neutral, but if you see something that isn’t please let me know! i hope you enjoy!

- - -

The first time you ever saw her enter apartment 3C was when she was moving boxes from the hall into the room. She had the most beautiful red hair and green eyes that made you lose your breath the instant she made eye contact with you.

The woman looks down at your hand then back up at your face, confused and suspicious. She simply nods before picking up one last box and entering her apartment. You stand there in the hallway for another minute before shaking yourself off and going back to your own home, your thoughts on the green eyes of the woman whose name you don’t know for the rest of the night.

You walk over to introduce yourself to her, sticking your hand out for her to shake.

“Hi! I’m Y/N, your neighbor in 3D,” you say, gesturing to the apartment across the hall with a shake of your head.

- - -

The next time you saw the mysterious woman of apartment 3C was on your way to the laundry room in the basement of the building. She was just locking her own door when she looked up and made eye contact with you. You gave her a small smile and she simply rolled her eyes at you.

As you both climb down the stairs, the woman trying hard to ignore your presence, you try to come up with a topic of conversation.

“So, nice day we’re having. Good weather,” is what you finally come up with. You mentally smack yourself for being so dull.

She looks at you with an annoyed look in her eyes and a smirk on her face.

“Really? You’re resorting to weather talk?”

“Well, you’re not that easy to approach. I’m not sure what to talk to you about,” you finally manage to get out after a minute.

“You ever think maybe I don’t want to talk to you?” she asks.

“Oh.”

She leaves you standing alone in the stairwell, wondering what you did to offend her so badly.

- - -

It’s about eight at night when your dog starts barking from the living room. You look up from your book to the smell of smoke. The lasagna you were making was currently in the oven, but you were sure you set the timer.

As you walk out of your room, the smell of smoke only gets stronger. It takes you checking your oven and the sight of your dog barking at the door to realize the smell is coming from outside your apartment.

You open the door and struggle to keep Smokey, your dog, in the room as you peek your head into the hallway. The smoke is coming from 3C. You’ve managed to avoid the woman inside since the stairway fiasco a week ago. As embarrassed as you are, you figure you should probably go check on her.

She opens the door a minute after your knocks sound, looking out of her element. Instantly you notice the smoke coming out of her own oven. She is definitely not a chef by any means, you realize with a smirk.

“Are you okay in here?” you ask her softly.

“Does it look like it?” she responds with an edge to her voice.

“Do you need some help?”

She simply rolls her eyes and shakes her head. You’re about to respond when her phone rings. She picks it up with a firm “Natasha” before closing her door on you. At least now you know her name.

When you get back into your own home, you come up with an idea. You take half of your now-cooked lasagna and put it in a tupperware container. You attach a little note before running it over to Natasha’s doorstep. You knock and try to hurry back to your apartment before being detected.

Smokey, however, has other plans for you. He manages to sneak out into the hallway and over to the container of food.

"Smokey, no!" you exclaim as Natasha opens her door, no longer on the phone.

You quickly run over to grab his collar and usher him back to your home, muttering apologies the whole way. You quickly sneak inside your apartment before Natasha can say something about the food.

What you don’t see is the small smile Natasha gives as she reads the note.

- - -

The next time you see Natasha leave apartment 3C is drastically different. The rainy weather is reflective of your current mood. You're on your way up the stairs having just come back from the veterinarian, empty collar in your hand.

Natasha notices you from her doorway and lets a small smile go before it drops into a frown. There's a somber air about you and she'd be lying to herself if she said she weren't concerned. She has to keep up her mean girl act, though, because she doesn't want you to know you're growing on her.

"Well don't you look like shit. Who peed in your cheerios this morning?" she asks you snidely.

You stumble a bit, not expecting Natasha to even speak to you. You don't even look up at her before mumbling a quiet "Not today, Natasha".

Her heart breaks at the sadness in your expression and it breaks even more at the sight of the collar in your grasp. She's seen you walking around the city with Smokey a few times and knows how much you love him.

"Wait, hey, are you alright?"

You look up, surprised at the fact that Natasha is speaking to you in a kind manner. You don't fail to notice the concerned look in her eyes. Still, you're convinced she doesn't like you.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," you sigh, not wanting to get into it with her.

"Where's Smokey?" she asks softly.

You break out into sobs. Natasha reaches a hand out to you, but you're across the hall and into your apartment before she can come up with something to say.

This time it's you who is receiving a knock on the door with no one around to claim it. There's a mug of steaming tea and a note at your feet.

In neat, loopy writing you see:

I'm really sorry about Smokey. This will help with your throat <3

You crack a slight smile for the first time that day.

- - -

It's dark when you're startled out of your sleep. You could have sworn you heard something, but there is nothing but silence now. The clock jarringly flashes 3:35 at you.

Then you hear it again. There's someone knocking at your door, you realize.

Rushing out of bed, you trip on the sheets before regaining your footing. You enter the living room and turn on the lamp in the corner, covering the room in a soft glow. You inch the door open slowly, before throwing it open the rest of the way upon realizing the late night visitor is Natasha.

She's covered in cuts and bruises, and she's nursing her right wrist. Your eyes widen at the stain of blood on her shirt.

"Natasha, oh my god," you gasp, as you usher her into your apartment. You guide her to the couch and she groans as she plops down.

You rush to the bathroom to get some medical supplies and hurry back to her. She has her eyes closed, and if the blood and dirt weren't there, you'd think she looked almost at peace.

"What happened to you?" you ask softly, as you start wetting a washcloth with rubbing alcohol.

"Ah, this is nothing. You should see the other guy," Natasha says with a smirk. You can see just how tired she is, though. "I'd do it myself, but I think I’ve sprained my wrist.

You simply nod and get to work cleaning up her cuts. Both of you are silent, minus her small hisses of pain, until you finished taping up the last bandage.

"So, are you going to tell me why you came over at three A.M. looking like you just got mugged?"

Natasha sighs and plays with her hands. "I couldn't patch it up myself, as I already mentioned, and I trust you," she utters softly.

"I thought you hated me," you blurt out.

"What? No!" she exclaims, her eyes widening. "Okay, I can see why you'd think that."

"Why are you so mean to me, then?" you ask quietly, without looking in her direction.

"I’m scared," she says bluntly.

You look at her in complete confusion.

"You're so sweet all the time, and I was scared to talk to you in fear of you seeing just how opposite I am," she finally mutters.

You look at her softly. "Nat, you're not as bad as you think you are."

She scoffs. "I treated you like shit when all you've ever been is nice. I'm not just bad, I'm cruel."

"As you said, you were scared. You just need to stop being so hard on yourself all the time," you say, grabbing her hands in yours.

"Can you ever forgive me?" she asks hopefully.

"Take me out to get coffee and we can start over," you say.

She smiles and says, "Deal."

- - -

You knock on the door, just under the rusted 3C. You subconsciously smooth down your shirt, hoping to get rid of the nonexistent wrinkles.

You've been dating Natasha for four months now, but she still makes you just as nervous.

You're taken out of your thoughts by the sound of her door opening. Standing in front of you is the most stunning woman you've ever seen. She's in simple jeans and a shirt, but she still takes your breath away.

"Hi, love," she chuckles, as you struggle to find words.

"Hi, you're absolutely gorgeous," you finally stutter out.

"Shut up," she says through a smile, a light blush coating her cheeks.

"You ready for our date?"

"Absolutely." She turns around to lock her door.

You take her hand and interlock your fingers as you both start down the stairs. You've never been happier, you think.

- - -

The last time you see Natasha exit apartment 3C is a hot day in July.

The apartment has been cleared out, nothing but a box at the doorway left.

"It's sort of bittersweet, isn't it?" you ask, wiping the sweat from your brow.

"Sort of. I have better memories in your apartment, though," Natasha says.

"Our apartment," you correct her with a gleaming smile on your face.

"You just had to ask me in the middle of July, didn't you?" she teases. "I'm sweating bullets over here."

"I just couldn't wait any longer, sorry babe," you respond, leaning your head on her shoulder.

"C'mon, one more box then we officially live together."

Natasha bends down to pick up the box.

"Last one there's a rotten egg," you yell as you sprint across the hall.

"It's funny you think you can outrun me, baby," Natasha yells, hot on your heels.

[jadequeen88]

A Waitress’ Worst Nightmare

A/N: Written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9-5 collab! THIS IS 18+ MINORS DNI

Warnings: TW.sexual harassment, TW.oral(recieving), TW.degredation TW.nipple play, TW.Mommy kink

Pairing: busboy!Keigo, linecook!Dabi, f!waitress!Reader

You’re a college student just trying to get by. The biggest worry you should have right now is if you had enough time to finish that psych paper or when you were going to meet up with your calculus study group. Instead, you’ve got a much larger problem facing you...A problem that has permeated through every aspect of your life. Your coworkers were Grade-A-Assholes who decided making your life miserable was on the top of their to do lists.

You thought waitressing at the 24/7 diner downtown would be a breeze. Money was tight and since you were 21 and almost done with your undergrad, you wanted a little more financial independence. Little did you know when the owner hired you that you’d have to work alongside the two biggest shitheads in the city.

First there’s Keigo. To the untrained eye, he could almost seem charming. But you found out pretty quickly what a dick he was. He was working as a “busboy”, but in reality he didn’t do anything but flirt with every woman within his field of vision. Keigo would leave the tables a mess until there wasn’t a clean one left in your station and you’d be forced to do his job for him.

“What, babe? Stop getting your panties in a twist. I’m real busy these days. You know I’m practically running this place now.”

Oh yeah. How could you forget? He took every opportunity to remind you of that fact. Keigo’s dad happened to be buddies with the owner, garnering a sense of trust with the old man. He slowly weaseled his way into running day-to-day operations while the elderly owner stayed home most days.

Although the diner needed another busboy to pick up his slack, Keigo refused to tell the boss to hire another. You overheard a phone conversation between Keigo and your boss just last night:

“Nah, boss. We’ve got it covered here. No need to hire another busboy. The waitresses are just finding reasons to nag. Women, am I right?”

You were fuming.

***

As bad as Keigo was, his friend Dabi was exponentially worse. The line cook was, without a doubt, a drug dealer. The only motive he could possibly have for working there is having a place to do business with his “customers”(and of course, to help Keigo make your life a living hell). It clearly wasn’t because he needed the money since you’d seen his “friends” slip him generous wads of cash when they stopped by the restaurant. If cleaning up Keigo’s messes sucked, trying to put in customer’s orders with Dabi was pure torture. 

“Eggs over easy instead of scrambled? I dunno, Princess. Sounds like it’ll be a pain in my ass. Whatcha gonna give me if I do it?”

Then he’d lick his lips with his long pierced tongue, leering at you over the counter. Gag... You wondered if that ever actually worked in his favor. 

One semi-decent thing you can say about Keigo is that he’d never actually laid a finger on you. The same can’t be said for Dabi. You learned after your first day to wear shorts under the skirt of your uniform. You were behind the counter slicing lemons when he took his spatula and lifted the hem of your skirt. Before you realized what he was doing, he was calling out to his partner in crime.

“Fuuuuuck, Kei! Look at the ass on the new girl!”

You wondered what was going on until you felt a breeze and realized it was your ass that was on display. You’d slapped the spatula away and straightened your skirt, but not before they both got an eyeful of your black, lace panties. You cried for ten minutes in the bathroom after your shift that day.

***

The day you’d been dreading was finally upon you. No, it wasn’t a big test or project due... You had to ask off work for your cousin’s wedding. That meant dealing with Keigo (who was now in charge of making the schedule each week).

You squared your shoulders and went over what you would say over, and over in your head so you wouldn’t stumble over your words when you had to face him. 

“I need to have Saturday off for my cousin’s wedding. I can work the Sunday morning shift instead.”

This was repeated on a loop in your brain as you walked down the darkened corridor towards the office. You let out a long sigh and gently rapped your knuckles against the wooden frame. The sound of shuffling and muffled voices seeped through the thin faux wood and a moment later, the door swung inward. The thick cloud of smoke and strong, skunky smell almost knocked you flat on your ass. Instead of seeing Keigo alone working on the schedule, you saw that he and Dabi were hotboxing in the small office.

Knowing they were back here getting high while you closed the diner by yourself was the last straw. You slam the door behind you and stomp forward to lean over the desk Keigo was propped up behind.

“Listen you shit heads!” you slammed you fists on the desk knocking over a jar of pens. “I am so fucking sick of slaving away in this shit hole while you two get high and fuck off back here. You’re going to let me have Saturday off or I swear to Christ, I’m calling the boss and spilling my guts! About the weed, the drug deals, the snarky remarks, the groping, EVERYTHING! I’ve had enough!”

There was a moment of silence then the two of them burst into a fit of laughter. In a blind fit of rage, you leap across the desk and grab Keigo by the throat. When you made contact and squeezed as hard as your small hand would allow, a whimper escaped his throat and his eyes rolled back.

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you gripped your fingers tightly again to see if you could pull any more sounds from him. He didn’t disappoint. This time it was a whimper followed by him nervously mumbling.

“Heh, Kid... Seriously, knock it off. This shit isn’t funny.”

Your eyes traveled down the front of his body and when they landed on the crotch of his baggy khakis, your suspicions were confirmed. This loser who acted like a certified pussy-slayer popped a boner just from you choking him.

You leaned in close to his face, using this as your chance to get revenge for all the hell he had put you through. “Aww little Keigo... Not used to being roughed up?” you cooed. “Dumb little baby Keigo...I bet if I kept this up, you’d come in your pants like a dirty slut, wouldn’t you?”

You felt movement over your shoulder and heard a deep chuckle. “Dude you’re so pathe-”

Dabi gasped as you grabbed him by the crotch with your free hand and squeezed. He was already hard. You met his eyes and see panic etched across his features. A sadistic grin spread across your mouth as you tightened your grip. His head fell back and let out a whimper almost as needy as Keigo’s. 

“You’re both going to do exactly what I say or I swear, I will tell every girl you ever try to speak to what a couple of pathetic virgins you two are...”

***

“Ungh! Plea-please... Harder! I... I need more!”

*SMACK*

Your hand lands hard across the blonde’s face, drawing a pathetic whimper from his throat. He thrust his weeping cock along your shin whimpering, craving more pressure to relieve his suffering.

“You don’t get to tell me what you need, Keigo. Shut your fucking mouth and be grateful you get this much.”

You throw your head back against the office chair and hum as Dabi eats your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Mmm... See Keigo? See what a good boy Dabi is being? He knows his stupid mouth is only meant for one thing... Making Mommy’s pussy feel good.”

The praise causes the dark haired man between your thighs to moan into your clit sending a pulse of pleasure through your lower body. The ball of his piercing circles your clit and you feel the familiar ache of an impending orgasm begin to tighten in your belly.

Keigo starts shoving Dabi away from you with a growl. “This is bullshit! I haven’t even had a chance yet!”

Dabi elbows him, ”Fuck off Kei! I almost had her finished off!”

Furious from being jerked back from the edge of your orgasm, you grab a fist full of blonde hair in one hand and black in the other. You pull their flushed faces up to look you in the eye.

“If you want to come at all, you will shut...the fuck...up... and get me off. Now”

Dabi wasted no time in diving back into your dripping slit, panting heavily while he ran his pierced tongue in and out of your swollen entrance. Keigo attacked your neck, whimpering as he planted sloppy kisses down your collarbone until his tongue was licking long stripes up you clothed nipple.

“I think you can do a little better than that, baby,’ you cooed into Keigo’s messy blonde tresses, sweetly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. He took that as his cue to remove the clothing between your hardening bud and his hot, wet tongue.

Keigo latched onto your nipple, nursing it with vigor while he gently grazed his fingertips over the other. You heard him mumble something into the soft swell of your breast.

“Speak up,” you pull him away from your nipple with a pop, “I didn’t catch that...”

“I-I said... I...”

Your attention was drawn to the man between your legs as he began to suck down hard on your clit. The hand you had wrapped in Keigo’s hair tightened causing him to cry out.

“Mommy! Please! Wanna be your good boy! Wanna make Mommy come...” He sobs as he starts frantically licking and sucking your neglected nipple. This pushes you over the edge and your long awaited orgasm rushes over you. 

After you come down from your high, you push them off and begin getting dressed while the two men you left on the floor look up at you with wide eyes.

Dabi, still panting from eating you so vigorously, chokes out a little half sob.

“But.. where are you goin? We did what you asked!”

“Yeah babe! what the fuck!”

You eyed both men and let the tension hang in the air before turning and walking to the door.

“Give me the whole weekend off. Then we’ll arrange something Monday,” you look over your shoulder, “As long as you don’t piss me off before then..”

You walk out of the office with the biggest grin you’ve had in a long time and feeling a lot more relaxed. Maybe this job was going to turn out better than you expected. 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 5000+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary: You were husband & wife in name only.

AO3

The moon was bright & crisp in the sky over Rimuru. Even without your candle light, you would probably be able to see clearly into your mirror as you brushed out your hair, preparing for bed. It had been a challenging day.

Keeping Shion and Shuna from destroying their Lord with their love was a full-time job sometimes. Being the buffer between them was sometimes more than your poor human body could take; a fact Rimuru-sama was often concerned about. You usually brushed it off with a ‘better me than you’ remark as his peril would be far more of a detriment to others than you, but appreciated his concern. Besides, neither ogre-ess would intentionally hurt you. Worst you’d ever come away with before was a good goose egg from Shion swinging around Hercules’s willy-nilly and caught you in the back of the head. It was an accident, and she could have easily crushed your head like a melon, but Shion still cried for almost 3 days after every time she saw you in apology.

You chuckle a little at the memory. How wonderfully problematic your life had become in this past year. You wouldn’t call it ‘blissful’. It had it’s challenges like most. But your life taken an interest, wonderful turn that had led you to this life you wouldn’t trade anything for. You were safe. You were loved. You were a respected person when just some months ago you were nobody and nothing. How quickly the world turns.

A knock at your door halted the comb in your tresses and you look up surprised by the sound. “Who is it?” You ask. Curious who would be at your door so late at night.

“It’s me.” Your eyes blink in surprise as you hear the familiar deep timber of Benimaru behind the frame. “May I come in?”

You stammer out a reply of ‘one moment’ as you adjust yourself to make your appearance more presentable and told him to come in. It was embarrassing to have him see you in your night clothes. But if he was coming here so late at night, it must be important. Your husband never came to your chambers this late at night.

The title of ‘husband’ was in name only. You and Benimaru were not romantically involved, nor had you chosen each other completely of your own free will. He had saved you, along with Rimuru-sama and the rest of the Kijin, when they defeated the great bandit army that had been sweeping the east. Once just thugs of human and monsters alike, they had grown into a real threat in the land taking anything they please. Money. Goods. Women. When they came to your small village, they had burned it down and had taken you with them when they left. You were their prisoner and slave for nearly two months before Rimuru-sama and his band had come along.

You still remember seeing them for the first time. Bright and regal. A peasant before being a slave, you had never seen such fine strange clothes before. Nor the impending presence of the man in front of you when he’d come upon you.

“I claim this woman as my own.” They were the first words he’d ever said to you. Then he picked you up over his shoulder and carried you away with his band while the smoldering embers of the great bandit army died out in the distance.

 At first, you thought it was all going to be the same. One capture was no different than the last; though you were a little concerned about an ogre being your master than a human. But how much worse could it be? The last human captor you had had been a true monster. Being owned by a real one could not be that different. Or at least that was what you thought at first.

The ogres and Rimuru-sama had been impossibly kind. They tended to your wounds from your long capture. Gave you a place to sleep. Clothes. Fed you, although there was some debate on which ogre-ess’s cooking would ‘best suit you’, and treated you as an equal. You were incredibly moved by their generosity. They were even willing to take you home. And when you told them “I have no home” they seemed genuinely hurt by that.

You of course explained to them what happened, and realized now that you really had no place to go. You thought you would die in the bandit camp. So the thought had never crossed your mind where you would go should your imprisonment be over. You were lost and alone in the world. No money. No home. No family. Even if you left, who was to say you wouldn’t be taken up by another group who found your helplessness easy pickings? Or worse, going to that life on your own because you had no other choices…..

“You’re staying here.” Benimaru had announced, much to the surprise of everyone. “You’re my woman now, remember? I defeated those fools and claimed you as my prize. This is your home now. You’re staying here.”

There was a loud commotion from the group as they all thought he had been joking but, apparently, he wasn’t. While the energetic group argued, you looked at Benimaru critically and realized what he was doing. He knew that if you didn’t belong to someone, you could easily be taken by another. If not the remanences of the great bandit army, but someone else; as you feared. Being his woman, letting him lay claim, offered you protection you couldn’t afford on your own. “Ok,” you’d told him. Your soft voice somehow ringing out over the crowd.

Rimuru-sama had of course forbade his general from ‘keeping’ a woman. He said if he wanted to do this, he would have to do the honorable thing and marry you. It had been surprising how quickly he agreed. Then asked if you would be alright with it and you’d said yes. You had been married the next day, and were then husband & wife, and that was the end of it.

Your married life was that of about the same as anyone else in the close group. You weren’t intimate. You didn’t share secrets or stories. You didn’t even sleep in the same quarters of the estate. Aside from a few group outings, communal meals, and when he popped in on Shuna when you were around, you honestly rarely saw your ‘husband’.

Which was why it was so surprising he was here now, at this late hour.

“What is it Benimaru-sama? Is something wrong?” You ask, looking up at him from where you’d been sitting on the floor before he sat down too. His expression was placid, so it was hard to tell if something was going on.

“The envoy from Blumund is leaving tomorrow.” His eyes fixed on the hardwood under your knees.

“Yes, I know. He told me. He’s a little hard to miss.” You reply with a soft chuckle.

The envoy in question was a nice man. Tall, lean. A little bit older than you, but still a jovial person. Rimuru-sama had set you with the important task of keeping him company and being his escort during his stay. His immediate council in the Kijin were nice, but they sometimes lack the social grace or understanding of human culture. He didn’t want to offend the man and trusted you could keep him company during his stay.

“He’s rather taken with you.” Benimaru then stated. Taking you a bit by surprise. “He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.”

Your bit of surprise turned into full blown shock. “W…What are you talking about??”

“He wants to take you back to Blumund with him.” He repeated. As if somehow that made you understand completely. “He said he thinks you’re very beautiful, and charming, and that it would be a better fit for you to live among humans, rather than here in Rimuru with none of them. He talked to Rimuru-sama about this.”

“And Rimuru-sama told you about this?”

“I was there.” Benimaru stated after he shook his head. “He asked for us to severe our bond so you could go with him. So you could marry him.”

Your eyes probably bug out of your head now. Were you being proposed to by proxy by your own husband?!?

“How could he ask such a thing?!”

“Like I said, he’s taken with you.”

“That’s not the point! How am I supposed to marry someone else when I’m already married?!”

“He knows our marriage isn’t consummated.” His eyes finally look up to catch yours.

You feel your whole body turn red. Now you have to look away to stare at the floor. It was true. Your marriage wasn’t consummated. It had been something done to offer you protection and stability. It had never been about love. So you have never laid with your husband as he wished to respect your virtue. “How crude.” You mutter. Embarrassed, more than anything, as you were sure people knew about your unclaimed marriage, but no one would dare bring it up until now.

“Do you want to go with him?”

You look up again and offer a soft noise of surprise at the question. “Do you want to go with him?” He repeated. “As you said, he’s a good man. He has fortune, and power. You’d be a respected woman among your people. You’d be among your people.” Maybe you imagined it, but you thought you saw Benimaru wince at that. “You don’t have to stay here anymore. You don’t have to stay with me. You’re established enough now to make your own choices. You can be free.”

Free? The word played over in your head for a moment. The sheer concept completely foreign to you at the moment.

You’d never been free. First you belonged to your family. Then the bandits. Then Benimaru. Though you had freedom on occasion, you had never been truly free. And now that you had it, you found the idea ironically suffocating. You could choose to leave. Leave Rimuru City and start a new life as a woman of prominence in Blumund. But what if you didn’t want to leave?

“D…Do you want me to leave?” The kijin looked up at you again with a confused expression at your soft words. “If you want me to leave I will. But…I don’t want to leave all of you. I love being here, and being with Shion, and Shura, Rimuru-sama and….you. My ‘people’ have never been kind to me, so I really don’t want to go back to them. I want to stay here. We don’t have to be married anymore, if that’s the problem. We can still break our bond, if that’s what you want. But I’d like to – “That’s not what I want!”

Your eyes flicker up. Startled by the red Kijin’s roar and the burning fire resting in his eyes. “I don’t want to break our bond! I don’t want you to go with him! Do you have any idea how hard it was not to tear that man’s head off at the table when he said that?! I wanted to gouge his eyes out for saying you were beautiful! I wanted to rip out his heart out for ever letting you rest in it! You’re my woman, and my wife, and he thinks he can just say those things to me and live! He should kiss Rimuru-sama’s feet before he leaves because he’s the only reason that wretch is still breathing!”

Silence passed between you for a moment as you were completely stunted into speechlessness by Benimaru’s words. You had never expected such a passionate response out of the man. Until now, you were sure his only feelings toward you were ambivalence and mild friendship. The way he just ‘my wife’ to you, however, let you know that he had thought of this more than just a marriage of convenience. Your body flushed hot again as your heart beat hammered in your chest. “Benimaru….sama?”

“Don’t go with him.” The kijin repeated. Calmer this time as his expression seemed to morph into sadness at the thought of you leaving. “I can’t stand the idea of you leaving with him. When we first met, and I took you as my woman & wife, I will admit that I did it out of pity for you. You lost everything, and had nothing. I know what that’s like and wished to spare you. I thought that, after a few months, you would have a good enough reputation as the former wife of the Ogre Prince, Commander of the Jura forces, that we could break our bond honorably and you could make your own path in the world without fear. But, as time went on, I became more and more attached to you. Your kindness in spite of everything you endured. Your determination. Your desire to work hard to make things better for everyone here. I grew to fall in love with you and I couldn’t let you go. I know it was selfish, and that I’m being selfish now, but please don’t go.”

Your heart was still hammering so hard in your chest that you were scared you might faint. You felt like you could swoon at any moment. “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”

He looked down and started to fidget. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same.” His confession less confident this time. “You weren’t really given much of a choice in our marriage. I was afraid that you thought of me as just another man who had taken you. If you didn’t feel the same I could live with it, but knowing was – “That’s not true!”

It was Benimaru’s turn for his eyes to flicker up and be stunned by your confession. Apparently you had more in common than you thought. “I’ve never thought of you that way! If anything, I’ve only ever seen you as my rescuer. You saved me from a horrible existence as a slave. You gave this life that is so wonderful. With friends, and people I can’t live without anymore. I can’t begin to repay you.  Or tell you how I feel….”

All these feelings and emotions were rushing to the surface now the more you spoke. You had always been fond of Benimaru. Your strong, brave protector. You just assumed that he wanted nothing to do with you. The distance he put between you making it very clear. So you had pushed your feelings toward the back of your heart. Forgetting them until now, where they crashed to the front like a dam had burst.

“[Y/N]….” You look up into the red head’s eyes when he said your name. Whispered it, really, like it was some secret plea. His hand then reached out slowly to cup your cheek. Those battle calloused hands incredibly gentle against your skin. You really might swoon at the juxtaposition.

Those burning red orbs look at you in earnest before they flicker down to your lips. A silent request. One you eagerly receive.

The only time you had kissed your husband before this was at your wedding. To seal your bond. That, however, had been just a simple peck on the lips to meet the contract. This was a real kiss. Your lips pressing together in committed passion. Intense, but both of you still too shy it seemed to go past pressing your lips soundly together.

“[Y/N],” Benimaru said again as you press your foreheads together after your kiss. You don’t ever think you’ve heard your name sound so sweet. “Become my woman and my wife. Truly. You didn’t get a choice when we first met, but I ask you this now to make your own decision. Will you be mine?”

Your heart swelled unbearably tight in your chest before you nodded against his forehead. “Yes. Yes, I want to be your woman and your wife. Truly.”

You can feel the smile on his lips when he kissed you again. More deeply this time. His tongue snaked into your mouth against yours. The way he was kissing you making your legs feel weak to the point that you were happy you were sitting down. However, if they had buckled, your strong husband could easily pick you up in his arms. A shiver racing down your spine at the lewd thought that had just passed through you.

“Aah…I knew it. This is why I stayed away from you.” Benimaru said, finally letting you go. Your lips were kiss swollen now, and you were having a hard time understanding what he was talk about. “Every time I was near you, I wanted to claim you.” He explained. His expression looking deliriously happy as he examined his handiwork on your lips. “It was so hard to even be in the same room as you with your scent always hounding me every moment I was near. I had to stay away so I wouldn’t do anything horrible to you. But then that was its own torture as well. Near, apart. Both were an agony I couldn’t face somedays. Now that I have you though, I’ll never let you away from my side. You’ve summoned the beast in me. I hope you’re prepared.”

A loud squeak left your lips as the sneaky ogre flipped you. Instantly going from sitting on your ankles to flat on your back. Your world righted again and was filled with Benimaru as he leaned on top of you. His expression soft but heated, making you blush, before he kissed you again. His weight on top of you now making you moan wanton into the kiss this time.

Your world was filled with passionate kisses. They steal your breath away and make you squirm under your husband. You then feel his hands on your side. Touching you. Caressing your curves. You feel them fumbling around for your kimono tie, unwilling to let your lips go for even a moment to get to it properly, and place your hand on his chest.

“Benimaru, wait.”

The kijin stopped instantly and sat back off you. His eyes questing into your own to see what was wrong.

“I just….I thought I should…I mean we never…I’m not…” You stumble over the words to say to him. To explain that you weren’t the maiden he might have hoped for. The words cling in your throat as images of your former life flash across your mind. You feel unworthy. Dirty. Then his hand reached out to you brush your cheek again. Causing one of the tears that were welling up in your eyes to fall against it.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” He said with assurity and a softness that could only be described as love. “It doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love you as you are now. Not who you could be. My only regret is that I couldn’t kill those bastards 100 times more over for ever having hurt you.”

You scoff out a chuckle at the violent decree said so sweetly. You hand came up to clasp his own. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappointment.” He replied, almost instantly. Then kissed your hand as he brought it to his lips once he removed it from your cheek. “Do you wish to stop? We don’t have to do this now. I can be satisfied with you declaring you want to be my woman and my wife. Well….contented.”

You chuckle again, more light hearted this time, and leaned in to initiate your kiss this time. “I meant what I said. I want to be your woman and your wife truly. I don’t want to stop.”

A sigh of relief left Benimaru. The prince willing to stop if you wanted but clearly so glad you didn’t. You giggle and let him take you in his arms.

The momentary pause in your kissing afforded Benimaru the chance to undo your kimono tie. Loosening it and letting it fall, but not pushing the thin material of your actual robe off your body yet. You reach out for him as well to undo the clasp of his overcoat. The heavy material immediately falling of his shoulders, in contrast, once the hold was released. He seemed fascinated with your work as your hands untie his under coat as well.

“Your touch is like fire.”

“Is that a joke?” You ask when Benimaru growled those words at you. Your apex quivering at the sound, but still curious if he was making a joke.

He chuckled. Another shiver at your core. “No. But I guess I can see how it would be. I mean it though. Everywhere you touch me sets a fire in me.” His hand came up to take yours and slip it under his loose top now. Guiding it over the hard planes of his chest over to his heart. “I can’t get enough of it.”

You kiss again and continue stripping. There wasn’t much to let go of for you, as just before now you were preparing for bed, so you were quickly naked in front of him. He talked about your touch being fire, but his was burning you up inside. His hands were hot. They left a lingering heat in your body everywhere he touched, to the point that you wonder if he had activated his magic. You were helpless against his soft touches. Your body aching already before he even properly touched.

Then, when he did, your body became a livewire.

Your limbs immediately went taunt when his fingers touched your core. “Please try to relax.” He whispered to you in your hair. His own long, hard body nestled beside you. Holding you close.

You try to do as he said and relax. It wasn’t difficult after the initial shock as the pleasure made it easy to succumb to him. Those hands so skilled at fighting working your body with similar expertise. “Mmmm…Benimaru….”

“Ah…say that again.” His deep voice was in your ear again. This time sounding elated, before his tongue reached out to lick the shell of it. “Say my name again. Please.”

“Benimaru…” You repeat his name over and over again. His precious name he held so dear. The name Rimuru-sama had given to him. It fell from your lips like a prayer chant as his fingers brought you closer and closer to climax. When you did, it fell from your lips again in a shout. “Benimaru!”

He continued to touch you until your walls stopped clamping around his digits. Finally setting them free. Your spent body laid against him, and you open your eyes tiredly just in time to see him cleaning your juices from his fingers. “Ah…my love tastes so sweet. I could get addicted to your flavor.”

If you body wasn’t already flushed from orgasm, you would have blushed completely. Benimaru seemed pretty proud of himself, however, before he leaned in to kiss you. You don’t think you taste sweet at all. But the taste of yourself on his lips was something you could get addicted to too. When had you become so perverted?

He let you go for a moment and shuffled around to pull out of his pants. You watched him, in the soft light. His handsome body bare to you. Not a mark on him thanks to his skill and healing. Your eyes travel down and find the proof of his love for you staring back proudly at your face. You gulp at his size. That was going to be inside you.

“Don’t worry. I know it’s a bit bigger than a human’s, but I’ll try not to hurt you.”

“I-It’s alright.” You reply back at his concern. He had mistaken your gulp for a concern about his size. How shameful he would probably find you if he found out that it wasn’t from concern, but excitement, that had caused you to gulp. Again, when had you become so perverted? “I trust you. And I want to be with you.”

“[Y/N]….” He spoke your name softly again before he leaned in to kiss you. Guiding you back down on your back. You feel his weight press on top of you. Your legs spread wide around his pelvis to let him mount you. You can feel the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance and shiver a little at the lower kiss. “Please tell me if I’m hurting you.” Benimaru urged as he started to press into you.

You let out a wordless cry at the initial invasion into your most private place. You can feel your entrance stretch to accommodate him. The sensation a duality of pleasure and pain. And it was only the first few inches. Finally, agonizingly slowly, he was fully inside you. The kijin raining kisses down over your face and neck and everywhere else his lips could get to as you held on to him. His back tight under your fingers as he was very clearly straining to wait for you. “I’m alright, Benimaru. Please. Continue.”

You felt him nod against your shoulder before his hips pull back away from yours, then forward back into you. You both moan at the initial slow thrust. The feeling indescribable and compounding with each shallow thrust. “[Y/N]….”

“Mmmm…Benimaru….” You moan back when he said your name. “You can…go faster….” Not that you weren’t enjoying this slow entanglement, one could only describe as love making, you could tell that he was holding back and it was hard for him. “I..I want you. Please….Make me your woman.”

“I did warn you.” His voice sounded hard now, in comparison to the soft words he’d whispered to you earlier, and you think you hear the sound of nails scratching against the floor mat by your head.

His hips pull back again, this time practically pulling out of you, before they slam back in. You let out a loud cry. One readily identified as one not of pain. Then all you can do is hold on. Your arms wrap tight around Benimaru’s neck as he pounded into you. Before, where you had tried to roll your hips up to meet his thrusts when they had been soft & gentle, all you can do now is lay under him and take it. And become a babbling mess it seemed.

“Ah~! B-Benimaruuu! S-So good! Don’t stop!”

“I have no intention of stopping.” His words were stern. The cool seriousness of his intention to keep claiming you made your walls quake around him. “You’re my woman now. This body is mine. I’ll remind you of it every day if I have to. You’ve possessed me to the point of madness with this love. I can never let you go.” His tongue laved at the sweat collecting on the skin of your neck. Following it up to the back of your ear before his teeth bit into the soft flesh there. You let out a yelp, and call his name again, before you were cumming. Your nails biting him back into his shoulder.

“Ah! [Y/N]! Too tight. It’s too tight. I’m gonna-!” His hard thrusts come to a staggering halt as he spilled his seed inside you. Holding there before his hips roll softly against you as his cock continued to twitch its release.

He collapsed on top of you once it was finished. Your bliss worn body not seeming to care about the extra weight as you held him against your bosom and both tried to catch your breath. Rested, but not to say recovered, the ogre lifted himself up off your body and pulled out. You wince as he did. Those hard thrusts catching up to you, and suddenly feeling at a loss without him inside you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You look over to Benimaru, who had apparently seen you flinch, and was looking concerned. “No. Just a little sore.” He looked a little ashamed at that and muttered an apology to you. “Don’t,” you tell him. Reaching on to touch his chest. “It’s not as if I was really complaining.”

You both blush, despite everything you’d just done, still apparently shy about intimacy, before he slid over to you. “Are you sure you’re alright? About everything?”

You nod. Both of you laying on your side to face each other. His fingers caressing your cheek before moving down to the love mark he’d nipped into your skin. “Yes. I meant what I said. I don’t regret it.” You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were going to be instantly happy as husband and wife now. You were basically starting fresh. Starting anew. Though you knew a lot about each other, you had to relearn things and uncover new things as only a spouse would know. It would take time. But you were happy enough for now to at least try to start this new chapter with Benimaru. “You’re not going to kill the envoy before he leaves tomorrow, are you?”

The man let out a boisterous laugh and wrapped his arms tight around you in a hug. “No. I would never disrespect Rimuru-sama like that. As long as he leaves, I’m satisfied. But if he touches you between now and then, I make no promise on the guarantee he will leave with all his limbs.”

“Benimaru….”

The envoy, it seemed, was clever enough to take the hint in not touching you. The murderous aura & killing intent of the red kijin seemingly always just behind you making that clear. You decline his invitation to join him in Blumund. Telling him that the only time you would come to the city to visit him was with your husband. He again took the hint and left without comment. Rimuru-sama gave Benimaru a stern talking to about scaring their allies and ambassadors to their country, but you could also see that he wasn’t very serious about it. He seemed pleased enough that things had worked out, that you were staying, and his beloved friends were happy.

Ever the wonderfully problematic life in Rimuru City.