#so looks like the idiotic russian take is settled

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

I assume with "Ukrainian friends" he means Asshole and his huge ego

[eimiette]

minutes

࣪♡ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: during a high-stakes stakeout, spencer reid and his partner turn their limited time into a distraction from the case at hand. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (ofc), quicky, piv sex, fingering, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl. this is my first spencer reid smut so b nice pls !! <3

the night had settled into a quiet lull, the kind of silence that stretched on and made time feel endless. you’d been parked outside the suspect’s house for hours, watching the shadows play tricks on your eyes while spencer sat beside you, deeply engrossed in a book he’d brought along—one that had nothing to do with the case.

you glanced over at him, unable to resist a little teasing. “you know, we’re supposed to be watching the house, not reading ‘war and peace’ for the millionth time.”

“it’s ‘the brothers karamazov’,” he corrected without looking up, his tone dry but familiar. “and i’ve only read it four times, not a million. it’s called multitasking.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right. because when i think of multitasking, i think of spencer reid reading existential russian literature while catching criminals.”

he looked up then, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, it’s a good thing i’m here to broaden your definition of multitasking, isn’t it?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “sure, sure. meanwhile, i’m stuck doing all the actual work. keeping an eye out, staying alert… maybe you should take notes.”

he made a show of sighing, marking his place in the book before setting it down. “i hate to break it to you, but i’m perfectly capable of watching and reading at the same time. some of us can do more than one thing.”

“oh, is that so?” you arched a brow, leaning in slightly. “then tell me, genius, what’s happening at the suspect’s house right now?”

spencer paused, his gaze shifting to the darkened windows across the street, then back to you. “the lights in the living room went off about fifteen minutes ago. bedroom lights turned on shortly after, but no one’s left the house since then. there’s a dog barking a few houses down, and someone two blocks over keeps playing the same verse of ‘take on me’ on the piano. badly, i might add.”

you blinked, momentarily stunned. “okay, first of all, how do you even—never mind, i don’t want to know. and second, why would anyone ever play just one verse of ‘take on me’? what kind of psychopath are we dealing with here?”

spencer chuckled, a real laugh that lit up his face in a way that made something warm bloom in your chest. “now that’s the real mystery,” he agreed. “maybe we should call in a second team to handle it.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “only if they’re prepared for a psychological profile of a frustrated piano player. that’s definitely outside my area of expertise.”

“mine too, surprisingly,” he said, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “though i’m sure we could figure it out together.”

your smile matched his, and for a moment, the banter fell away. it was always like this—easy, comfortable, like you’d known each other forever. bickering was your default, but underneath it, there was something else. something steady. something you never quite acknowledged.

“hey,” you said, breaking the quiet but keeping your voice low, almost conspiratorial. “be honest. are you actually glad we got stuck on this stakeout together, or are you secretly wishing morgan was here instead?”

spencer tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, well, morgan wouldn’t keep up a running commentary of every single shadow that moves, so that would be a point in his favor.”

you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “you love my running commentary. admit it.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “okay, maybe i’d miss it a little,” he conceded. “just don’t let it go to your head.”

“i knew it!” you crowed, leaning closer with a triumphant smile. “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be, dr. reid. deep down, you actually like having me around.”

his smile turned softer, almost fond, as he met your gaze. “maybe more than i let on,” he said quietly, the teasing edge slipping from his voice.

“you know,” you murmured, voice just above a whisper, “for a genius, you can be pretty slow sometimes.” he turned a page slowly, clearly fighting back a smile. “you’re just jealous because you didn’t think to bring a book.”

“why would i bring a book when i could spend my time annoying you?” you shot back, grinning when he finally glanced over at you, his eyes alight with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“mission accomplished, then,” he replied dryly. “you’ve certainly succeeded in distracting me.”

you let out a laugh. “it’s a talent, what can i say?” you leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping to a lower, more playful tone. “admit it—you like it when i distract you.”

he hummed, pretending to consider your words as he closed his book and set it on the dashboard. “i suppose it does have its perks,” he said, turning his body slightly to face you. his knee brushed against yours, a casual touch that sent a familiar thrill through you. there it was—the shift. you’d felt it countless times before, that subtle change in the air between you. it always started with harmless banter, a little back-and-forth that led to lingering touches, heated looks, and eventually, lips pressed together in the dark of the car or the shadows of a motel room. friends with benefits, that’s what you called it, though even that seemed too formal. it was more like an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that sometimes, the line between friends and something more blurred when the nights got long and lonely.

you arched an eyebrow at him, leaning in even closer. “and what perks would those be, exactly?”

spencer’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his smile turning a bit more mischievous. “the kind that gets me out of reading the same case notes for the third time.”

you chuckled, your heart picking up its pace as you closed the remaining distance between you. “if that’s what it takes to keep you from quoting tolstoy at me again…”

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were on yours, warm and insistent, like he’d been waiting for this. his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. it wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot, but it still sent a shiver down your spine the way it always did. he kissed you like it was something he needed, not just something to pass the time.

you tilted your head, smiling against his lips. “so, is this how you imagined the stakeout going?”

he pulled back just enough to murmur, “it’s a pretty standard ending for us, don’t you think?”

you laughed softly, your breath mingling with his. “i guess we have a type, huh?”

“apparently,” he replied, his voice low and teasing as his thumb brushed along your jaw. “can’t say i’m complaining, though.”

you hummed in agreement, fingers finding their way into his hair as you brought his lips back to yours. “good. because i’d hate for you to get bored out here,” you whispered between kisses, your words half-teasing, half-sincere.

“i can think of worse ways to spend a stakeout,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his lips trailed down to your neck, and you let your head fall back, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

you felt spencer’s lips brushing against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his kisses were warm and deliberate, a welcome distraction from the long hours of the stakeout. you leaned into his touch, but a nagging thought pulled at the edge of your mind, breaking through the haze of pleasure.

“spence,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “should we really be doing this right now? i mean, we’re on a stakeout. there’s a chance the unsub could show up any minute.”

spencer’s eyes flickered with amusement, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “oh, come on,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “we’ve been monitoring this place for hours. we’ve got approximately 48 minutes before the unsub’s next predicted move.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to read his expression. “48 minutes? and how do you know that?”

he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “based on the patterns of his previous crimes, the time between his actions has been pretty consistent. it’s a safe bet we’ve got a little leeway.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “so, you’re telling me that you’ve calculated the exact amount of time we have before we need to get back to being all business? kinda sexy you’ve calculated the timing on this out i must say..”

spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he blinked at you, momentarily thrown off. “sexy? you find profiling talk sexy?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yeah, it’s like you’re making crime analysis sound intriguing and… well, a little hot.”

he chuckled, a warm, genuine laugh that sent a thrill through you. “i’ll have to remember that. maybe i should include more of that in my briefing sessions.”

you grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “just don’t let the team catch on. we don’t need them getting ideas.”

spencer’s fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt, his touch lingering with a hint of teasing. “you think they’d actually believe it’s my secret weapon?”

“oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smirk, helping him with his shirt. “morgan would probably have a field day with that.”

spencer’s shirt joined yours on the floor as he flashed a mischievous grin. “if that happens, it’s on you. you’re the one who brought up the idea of sexy profiling.”

“guilty as charged,” you said, pushing his trousers down with a playful nudge. “but you have to admit, you’ve got a way of making it sound pretty compelling.”

he raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “compelling, huh? is that the new standard for our stakeouts?” “maybe,” you said, leaning in closer. “or maybe it’s just a nice change of pace.”

spencer’s lips curved into a grin as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hands sliding around your waist. “i can live with that.” you responded with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers brushing against his chest as you shifted closer. with a confident move, you straddled his lap, your body aligning perfectly with his. the shift brought you eye to eye, a spark of heat dancing between you. spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips as he adjusted to the new closeness. “i see you’re not wasting any time,” he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rumble.

you chuckled softly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “why wait? we’ve got a limited window here.”

spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips. as he adjusted to the new closeness, his fingers slowly slid down, grazing the fabric of your skirt. the sensation of his touch against your skin made you shiver with anticipation. his hands wandered gently, exploring the curve of your hips and the edges of your skirt. his touch was light but deliberate, moving with an almost curious intensity as he traced the contours of your body. you could feel his fingers inching upwards, brushing softly against the bare skin of your thighs.

you pouted, a playful frown tugging at your lips as you looked down at him. “you’re really going to tease me like this?”

spencer met your gaze with a mix of amusement and warmth. “need you to use your words pretty girl.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips. “oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

he nodded, his touch growing more deliberate but still teasingly slow. “absolutely. tell me what you want.”

you bit your lip, the playful challenge clear in your eyes. “i want you to stop teasing and actually—”

before you could finish, spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as his hands continued their exploration. his touch finally met your soaked core over your underwear, sending a jolt of sensation through you. his whisper against your lips was soft but insistent. “use your words. tell me exactly what you want.”

you parted your lips, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. “touch me… please.”

spencer’s eyes darkened with desire as he heard your plea. his fingers slipped under the edge of your underwear, meeting the dampness of your core. he let out a low curse, his breath hitching. “fuck, you’re so wet. i should really explain the time management of our cases and unsub patterns more often if-” realizing he was losing focus, spencer shifted his attention back to you. he let out a soft curse, his fingers slipping inside you with a deliberate, smooth motion. the sudden, intimate contact made you gasp, the sensation warm and intense. spencer's fingers moved with a focused precision, sliding inside you with a smooth, deliberate motion. the warmth of his touch and the rhythmic pressure made your breath hitch, a soft whine escaping your lips as the sensation intensified.

he pressed his fingers deeper, his hand moving with a steady, measured rhythm. each thrust was controlled and purposeful, designed to maximize the pleasure that rippled through you. his palm rested firmly against your core, the heat from his hand mingling with the warmth of your skin.

as you whimpered softly, your breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, spencer leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. his thumb brushed lightly against you, adding a delicate pressure that made you whine again, the sound filled with both need and satisfaction.

you bit your lip, struggling to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “spence… i want to feel you. i want—”

he cut you off gently, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “i know. just give me a moment.” his fingers continued their rhythmic dance, his touch a tantalizing blend of warmth and pressure.

but as your need became more urgent, your voice grew more insistent. “please, i need to feel you inside me.”

spencer’s gaze grew more intense, filled with a deep, hungry longing, and he pulled his fingers away slowly, his expression a mix of affection and eagerness. “alright,” he said softly, his voice thick with desire. “i’m here.”

he reached into his wallet, retrieving a condom with a practiced ease. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he prepared it, a thought crossing his mind. it was probably because of you that he’d made it a habit to carry them during cases—an adjustment made in response to your playful insistence on being prepared. he tore open the wrapper and readied himself, then guided you gently but firmly into position. his hands were steady on your hips, helping you align perfectly.

as you settled into position, your breath quickening with anticipation, you glanced at him, a playful edge to your voice. “how much time do we have left?”

spencer’s eyes remained locked on yours as he checked the time. “forty minutes and thirty-two seconds—oh fuck.” the expletive slipped out as you slid onto him, the sudden, intense sensation making his breath hitch.

you leaned in closer, your breaths coming in short, heated bursts as you adjusted to the rhythm. the space between you was charged with electricity, each movement synchronized with a growing intensity.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with pleasure.

spencer’s fingers dug into your hips, his movements becoming more deliberate as he matched your pace. “so pretty like this…” he replied, his voice low and intense. “so fucking pretty.”

as the urgency and desire between you built, spencer’s breath quickened, his hands guiding you with a steady, firm grip. each thrust was met with a soft, satisfied gasp from you, the rhythm between you becoming a fluid, intimate dance.

“doing so good for me baby,” spencer murmured, his voice barely more than a breath as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a heated, passionate intensity. his touch was everywhere—his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing along your sides.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. the car’s confined space only seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment, making each touch and movement feel more intense, more immediate.

with each passing second, the urgency of the situation only added to the thrill. spencer’s focus was entirely on you, his eyes locked onto yours as he pushed you both towards the edge. “we’re almost there,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire and determination. “just a little longer.”

the combination of his touch, his kisses, and the urgency of the moment drove you both closer to the peak. the pleasure built steadily, every sensation amplified in the charged atmosphere. you could feel yourself unraveling, every nerve ending sensitized and every touch magnified. the sensation of him inside you was electrifying, a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you with each movement. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you felt yourself falling apart.

“spencer,” you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of the experience. your grip on his shoulders tightened, your entire body tensing as the pleasure reached its peak.

spencer’s eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of awe and desire reflected in his gaze. “i know, i know, i’m almost there,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. his hands moved with careful precision, his touch both guiding and responding to your reactions.

as the climax hit, you felt a powerful release, your body shuddering and trembling with the intensity of the moment. your voice broke into a series of breathless cries, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

as the intensity of the moment enveloped you, spencer’s grip tightened on your hips, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. the way you had fallen apart, your body trembling with pleasure, had driven him to the brink.

his movements became more urgent, his focus solely on the sensation of being inside you, feeling your warmth and responsiveness. you could see the struggle in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from focused desire to complete surrender. “god, i’m close,” he gasped, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and satisfaction. his hands moved more fervently, his rhythm driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

as you clung to him, your body still trembling from your release, spencer’s movements became erratic. the pleasure built within him until he could no longer hold back. with a series of deep, shuddering breaths, he finally came undone, his body shivering with the force of his climax.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged and hot against your skin. his hands still rested on your hips, holding you close as he rode out the final waves of his release.

as the intensity of the moment gradually faded, spencer’s touch softened. he pulled you close, his hands gently brushing over your skin as he helped you both come down from the high. his breath was still uneven, but his touch was tender and reassuring.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

you nodded, a contented smile forming. “yeah, i’m fine. you?”

spencer chuckled, slipping on his shirt. “well, we’ve got approximately 22 minutes to spare.”

you raised an eyebrow, pulling on your top. “and what are we going to do with those 22 minutes?”

he smirked, buttoning his jacket. “well, i could use a quick breather. maybe we can discuss how i should properly schedule my case briefings.”

you laughed, adjusting your clothes. “sounds like a plan. just make sure you don’t forget to factor in the importance of effective timing.” spencer’s grin widened as he straightened his collar. “duly noted. next time, i’ll make sure to account for every possible variable.”

-

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

[johnwickb1tsch]

Everyone is sending GIF requests, so, here is mine. Hint: Jealous John? (Though I doubt this man can ever be jealous but...whatever comes to your genius brain)

Thanks!

@sweetwolfcupcake SWEEETS!!!!! I loved this prompt SO MUCH!!! You're such a genius. *kisses your head* I hope you like this! 💗💗💗

Bodyguard!John Wick x Shy!Curvy!Fem!Student!Reader

⚠warnings: threat of noncon (not John), mention of parental death

For the record, you didn’t mean to fall in love with John Wick. But he was nothing like the other goons your father had tasked with guarding you before.  Wick was tall, and handsome, and had the soulful eyes of a poet. You know he’s dangerous; he can kill a man 30 ways with a pencil (the men of your father’s Bratva will not shut up about it) but he seems so…gentle. And the thing that really proved your undoing?

That good looking bastard was bookish, and it did something inconceivable to your lit major brain. Ever your dark shadow, you spent countless late nights in the library together, and so many Saturday afternoons browsing the used bookshops, combing for treasures. He would rescue the books that looked better fit for the waste bin, taking them to repair. Maybe he was there to protect you, for your father had many unsavory enemies, but it was easy to forget when John discussed with you the finer points of the Bloomsbury Set or the themes of Anna Karenina.  

Maybe your father assigned John to you because he was one of the few gangsters around in his brigata one could trust to guard a relatively innocent young lady–that didn’t mean John was safe from you. You just couldn’t help yourself; you’d like to plead insanity, your honor, the night you finally broke and tried to kiss him, while he was helping you with your homework for Russian Lit 301. 

How stupid you felt, how utterly pathetic, when he’d very kindly dislodged you from his so soft mouth, looking at you with pity in his sad dark eyes. “You know…we can’t do this,” he told you.

Mortified, you’d fled to your room and cried, knowing you are the most ridiculous human being on the face of the earth.

What were you thinking?

You are nothing like the tall, ethereal creatures that populate the clubs where Wick frequents with your father. You are shy, and curvy, and frankly…a nerd. An old soul, your father would say fondly, but you know he is just being kind.

You’re not sure how you got it into your head, that you were going to make Wick sorry. You’ve never been one for going out, but you decide to give it a whirl, wanting to be anyone but yourself. You decide to go to the Red Circle, to hang out with the other Bratva brats who care way more about clubbing and clothes and who’s fucking who, than classes at NYU. 

At first you really hate it–but after a few shots of vodka, it’s not so bad. John has to hang back, keeping an eye on you but not interacting with your friends. He’s scary good at lurking in the shadows, but you know he’s keeping an eye on every move you make. Maybe that’s why you let Alexsei kiss you, the son of a semi-friendly loan shark who works in proximity with your father. You don’t really like him, if you’re being honest. But he’s not totally hideous–and he’s there–and John will have to watch it all. 

You and Alex start to have a thing. It’s no big deal. Something to do, on the summer break from your studies. You invite him over to watch a movie, knowing you’ll have the house to yourself. Your father is always at his office doing business, your idiotic brother is always out getting into trouble with his khuligan friends, and your mother…is dead, God rest her poor soul. 

You can tell Alex is a little drunk, when he shows up at your door. He’s very handsy, when you settle in on the couch to watch the latest mindless action flick, his pick. It’s ok, until he tries to unbutton your pants.

You have a secret. 

You’re 21, nearly graduated from university–and you’re still a virgin. 

This is not a thing you intend to give to Alexsei Plushenko. You don’t even really like the way he touches you.

“Stop, Alex.”

“Don’t be scared,” he tries to coax you. “This will be fun.”

“No,” you say. “Let’s just…”

He covers your mouth with his, shutting you up, his heavy body pinning you on the couch. “Don’t be such a stuck up bitch.” His groping fingers squeeze your breast clumsily, painfully, before fumbling with your jeans again. You try to push him off, but he’s heavy, and strong.

Suddenly, he is yanked from you like he weighs nothing at all. You hardly recognize what is happening at first, until you hear the sound of flesh striking flesh. John is on him, his iron fist meeting the younger man’s face. 

“John! Stop!” 

Wick looks up at you, meeting your eyes in a primal lock of stares–your heart drops and soars again, as you feel as though you’ve stumbled on a wolf over his kill, and the wildest thing?

You get the inkling that wolf is jealous. 

“Don’t hurt him anymore,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. A beating will make some complications for your father. A death? Could mean war.

Wick punches the handsy young man one more time, his eyes never leaving yours, before hauling Alex up by the collar and frog marching him out the front door, tossing him down the concrete steps of your home.

John finds you waiting for him in the marble foyer, his eyes wild, his knuckles torn. You don’t even know what to say. 

“What did you even see in him?” he finally demands, clearly annoyed.

“He wasn’t you,” you answer without thinking.

Wick steps up to you, toe to toe, so that you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. His hair has broken free from its slicked back style, tendrils in his eyes.

He’s never looked more beautiful, your savage savior.

“You’re trying to get me killed.”

You shake your head, the very thought anathema to you. You are transfixed, unable to look away, unable to think. “You’re too precious to me,” you admit, and screw your eyes shut the moment you admit it, a spear of mortification piercing you from your heart to your stupid, aching, cunt.

“Milaya…” 

It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you.

Your eyes drop to his knuckles, torn open in his defense of you. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Not to me.” You don’t know where you get the courage, to take his hand, and lead him up to your room. You can hardly believe it, that he actually follows you. In your ensuite bathroom you dab at his knuckles with a washcloth, slather him with ointment and plaster him with bandaids. You run out of sober flesh colored ones, so the last cut gets a Disney bandage, Ariel and sea-flowers decorating this severe man’s knuckles. 

He lets you do all this, watching you intensely with those dark eyes you’re certain can see into your soul. You stand too close–and he lets you, this haunted man who watches over you day and night. Your whole life you have never wanted for anything, your father’s money buying you all your heart could possibly desire.

Until now.

You find it hard to meet his eyes, zeroing in on a spot of blood on his stark white dress shirt. 

“Y/n.” With a gentle knuckle under your chin he turns your gaze up to his again. “You are too smart, and too beautiful, to be wasting your time with a fuckboy like Alexsei Plushenko.”

The first part you already knew. The second, from this man’s lips? Your knees nearly collapse out from under you, a flood of excitement and dread coursing through your system. You almost can’t stand it–it’s like being burned alive, and your native shyness rears with a vengeance. 

You try to flee, back to the safety of your room, and your books, your imaginary lives that can’t really hurt you–but he catches your hand. His grip is not hard, but it is enough to stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Y/n…” He’s pleading with you, but you don’t understand what he’s asking you. 

“You said you don’t want me, John…” you say, still unable to meet his eyes. “So let me go.” 

He answers by pulling you against him, the solid line of his torso a brick wall beneath the hand you raise to catch yourself. But bricks are not warm, like the flesh beneath his designer clothes. You can feel the wires in your brain sizzling, the synapses simply melting down. Your heart is Chernoble waiting to happen. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“You said–”

“I said, ‘We can’t.’ Not, that ‘I don’t want you.’”

You almost cannot breathe, your heart attempting to beat out of your chest, a ringing in your ears that drowns out all else. There is nothing, nothing, in this world you’ve wanted more, than to hear those words from this man. But now that he’s standing before you, against you, holding you–you cannot move. You do not know what to do. 

He solves this problem by cupping your cheek in his big hand–God, how you’ve noticed those hands–and then he is pressing his mouth to yours, gentle at first, but then…hungry. As though John Wick has been starving, for you, and it’s all you can do just to stand there and take it without melting into a puddle on the floor. His arms wrap around your back, holding you, lifting you to your tiptoes as he devours you. When at last he pulls back you are left seeing stars, struck utterly speechless with your hands on his broad shoulders. 

“Tell me to stop,” he raggedly demands, his eyes boring down into yours. 

Finally, you find your courage, meeting his stare. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I can.” He kisses you again, just as hungrily as the first time, his arm an iron band around your waist and his fingers sneaking up into your hair. That’s your kryptonite: your hair, and blithely you know he can do anything and everything he wants to you now.  

Your father is a bad man, but you have not had a bad life. You have never known hunger, or true physical pain. He has protected you from the violence of his world. He has played things smart enough that not even the FBI can touch you, even though they absolutely know what he is and where your family gets its money. Despite all this, you have been dying inside, a slow, withering demise, until John Wick’s lips touched yours. He is the life-giving rain over the desert; your heart is a field of wildflowers erupting in a superbloom. 

This time, he leads you, in between kissing you, to the loveseat at the foot of your bed. He sits, and only when he tries to pull you into his lap do you resist. “John…I’m too…much,” you insist, conscious of your generous flesh and what it would be like to set that on top of him, afraid he’ll be horrified. 

However, he just scoffs at you, grabbing you up anyway and guiding you down. For a moment you are weightless–he knows how to upset a person’s balance, how to use their weight against them to put them on the floor. This time he uses it to put you on him. You’re not exactly proud of it, but the ease with which he utterly manhandles you makes your long-neglected lady parts sing with desire. 

“You are perfect, dietka,” he insists, pulling you closer with hands on your round behind, “And I am very strong.” For the first time in you can’t remember how long–he smiles at you. That beautiful half smile with a sparkle in his dark eyes that takes your breath away–you love him so much it hurts. 

This time you don’t feel so shy, about kissing him. You feel like your bones are filled with butterflies, and you both moan and giggle as you do your best to devour each other from the mouth down. Aside from an appreciative squeeze of your thighs bracketing his hips, he doesn’t try to seduce you, even though you know you absolutely would have given him anything he asked you for. He is content, just to kiss you, for this night at least, and oh. He’s good at it too. 

You decide you would burn down the world, for one more kiss from John Wick.  

Later you find yourself snuggled in your bed with John, fully clothed, your head on his shoulder as he toys with the fine hairs at the back of your neck. His touch is heaven, and with your legs twined with his it’s hard not to squirm and writhe against his muscled thigh like a horny little gremlin. 

Later, you tell yourself. It can wait for later. 

Like maybe, tomorrow. 

“We’ll have to be careful,” he warns you. “If your father…” 

If your father found out, the best thing that could happen to John is getting fired. 

“I won’t let you get hurt,” you promise, kissing his bearded cheek, praying you’re telling the truth.

He chuckles at this; a deep sound you feel more than hear. “I thought that was my job?”

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know.” He looks down at you with a tenderness that curls your toes. “It would be worth it, for you.” 

Your heart has suddenly decided it would like to take up residence in your throat–permanently.

“Oh, John…”  

He kisses you again, a soft brush of lips that renders you weightless. This is how you die: it’s almost too much to stand, this impossibly full feeling in your chest. Then he narrows his eyes at you playfully. “You have been driving me mad, you little minx. I wanted to kill everyone who so much as looked at you in the Circle.” 

You snort at the thought–you do not understand, really, that he could absolutely do it too. 

“Not to worry. I think the library is more my speed.” He rests his head against yours with a small, contented sigh. “Mine too,” he admits. The smell of old books around you is a soothing balm to you both. 

You know small bits of his past. Morsels he has sprinkled, here and there in the conversations you have had. You know he did not have an easy childhood. You know that this life was not really his choice. Even less so than most, who move and work in the Underworld. 

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” you ask. 

He lifts an eyebrow at you. “I’m liking New York, at the moment,” he tells you with an affectionate squeeze. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Fine. I like Paris a lot.” 

“Hmm,” you answer, but what you think, is: Done.  You will have the opportunity to arrange to study abroad soon, and you think a trip away from the Tarasov territory might do you both some good.

Surely Papachka wouldn’t deprive you of your most trusted bodyguard?

[stevie-petey]

episode two: the mall rats

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.” “Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be. It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Summary: dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, allusions to violence, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 13.2k

Before you swing in: hello !!! new chapter, i am so sorry for the wait :/ the end of the semester has been killer and ive been super busy with my lab job (i present at a conference friday ... pray for me). heres chapter 2, she somehow ended up being 13k words but lets ignore that for my own sanity !

-

There are dandelions all around you.

Their puffs of white surround you as the seeds dance in the air and settle atop of your head and tickle your cheek. They’re soft, reminiscent of the snow that encases you every winter in Hawkins and the days you used to chase Jonathan around in his backyard.

You’re barefoot in a field that you can’t quite place. The grass below you skims against your ankles as the dandelion seeds float towards the tops of the green. It’s a familiar landscape, something tells you that you’ve been here before, and the thought is almost reassuring to you.

The sun is warm against you and there’s someone in the distance. You open your mouth to call out to them, they feel as familiar as the landscape before you does, but when you try to speak, the dandelion seeds begin to swarm into your mouth. The puffs of white seem to turn into daggers in your throat as they cut your tongue and slice inside you as you struggle to breathe.

You try to scream, but nothing comes out. The dandelions now draw blood as they continue their malicious attack on you. You claw at your mouth and cower in the field, trying to flee from what’s attacking you, but the dandelions only follow as you try to call after the figure you saw in the distance.

Stumbling blindly through the grass, panic stricken and longing for the person who had once been at the top of the hill, your foot catches on a root and suddenly you’re falling. This time, you do scream, and the dandelion seeds spill from your mouth as you fall into an endless abyss.

“Y/N!” Your eyes fly open and your body shoots from your bed; you almost head butt Dustin in the process. He flinches back, startled by your violent reaction, and he puts his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Geesh, I was just trying to wake you up.”

It takes you a few moments to process that you are, in fact, awake. Your heartbeat is still pounding rapidly in your throat. You can still feel the dandelion seeds on your tongue and the millions of little cuts they left behind.

Dustin stares at you with slight concern in his eyes and you clear your throat, trying to rid the memory of your dream. That’s all it was. A dream.

Clearing your throat again, you try to calm yourself down. “Why are you in my room?”

“Like I said, I was trying to wake you up.” Your brother says as if you’re an idiot.

“But why?”

“Did you bang your head or something last night?” He gives you an odd look and you glare at him. “Cerebro caught a Russian code, remember? You promised we’d see Steve today to talk about it!”

You rub your eyes, exhausted. It’s taking longer than usual for your mind to wake up and process everything. “I know, I know… What time is it?”

“Eight, now get up and go get pretty for Steve so we can discuss how to become American heroes.” Dustin crosses his arms, silently daring you to argue.

“There was so much wrong with that sentence,” you groan, but reluctantly throw your blankets off of you and start pulling out random shorts and a t-shirt to wear. “You’re lucky it’s the weekend and I don’t work today.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Dustin mocks you, tossing you a white t-shirt and removing the red one from your hands. “Steve likes you in white, now hurry up.”

Your mouth drops in shock, but your brother simply rolls his eyes at you and leaves your room so that you can get dressed.

“How does he even know that?” You whisper to yourself, now alone in your room.

–

Dustin bikes ahead of you as you make your way to Joyce’s store in Downtown Hawkins. He had complained when you told him that you needed to make a pitstop there before going to the mall.

“I haven’t seen Steve in a month!”

“And Mrs. Byers is close to losing her job at Melvald’s, so you can wait the extra five minute detour it takes to deliver her muffins to cheer her up.”

Your brother had tried to argue some more, but you simply shoved a fresh baked muffin in his mouth and began to bike away.

Now, as the two of you head towards Downtown, the early morning air fills your lungs and slowly wakes you up. It’s quiet, Hawkins isn’t quite awake yet in the early hour. Only the bees buzzing past your ear seem to be lively.

You watch Dustin up ahead and briefly marvel at how much bigger he seems to have gotten in the month he was away at camp. He looks older, more mature, no longer the baby brother your mom brought home fourteen years ago.

As you’re lost in your reminiscence, you almost miss the figure that stumbles along the side of the road.

“Dustin!” You yell at the boy, weary of whoever is up ahead. “Stop!”

He hears the fear in your voice and screeches his bike to a halt. Turning around, he checks to make sure you’re okay. “Did something happen?”

You stop next to him and discreetly point at the figure a few yards away. It seems to be a boy, maybe a teen your age, but he’s walking as if he’s in immense pain. “You see that?”

“Yeah,” Dustin squints and also seems unnerved by the person’s appearance. “Think it’s anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know…” Something feels familiar about the person. Their hair, the way it’s styled, reminds you of someone. You squint as well, your eyes catch on the person’s leather jacket and the expensive brand, there’s a faint outline of cigarettes in the pocket, and the sight fills your nose with the smoke that once choked you last winter. “I think it’s Billy.”

“Why is he walking on the side of the road?” Dustin makes a face. “I know he has a car, the bastard almost ran me and the party over on Halloween.”

You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and try to understand why you feel this tug within you to get closer to the teen. Billy is cruel, he is horrible, and the bruises he left on your neck took weeks to fully fade away. Yet there’s a concern within you as you watch him stumble, as if in some daze, and it's this worry that solidifies your decision. “Stay here.”

“What–” Dustin turns and sees that you’ve gotten back on your bike and are now pedaling towards Billy. “Y/N! Are you insane?”

“Stay here!” You order, not really understanding why you’re doing this either. “Just… Wait for my signal!”

Dustin curses, not at all liking this plan, but he listens. He tightens his grip on his bike’s handlebar and makes sure you never leave his line of sight in case you need him for backup.

As you approach Billy, you make sure to circle widely around him so that he sees you coming, before finally facing in front of him. You brake a few feet away from him, incredibly nervous for how he may react. You haven’t spoken to him since last winter, he had kept his promise to Max to leave you alone.

Billy barely seems to register that you’re in front of him. He stops as if he’s in a trance and blinks slowly at you. You notice the cut on his forehead, how there’s still fresh blood dripping from it, and something within you wants to tend to the wound. Then you notice the grime that covers his face and his jacket, and you begin to worry even more.

As you’re eying his disheveled appearance, Billy opens his mouth, and the action looks as if it takes all the energy within him to do so. “S–sweetheart?”

“Are you okay?” You ignore the nickname he gave you that makes your skin crawl. You’re more worried about his appearance. He’s sweating like crazy, almost as if he’s on drugs, and he’s paler than normal. His California tan is gone, his eyes are glazed over, he looks as if he isn’t really here with you right now.

It scares you. You’ve never seen him like this.

“‘M fine,” Billy slurs. He seems… off. More drawn into himself now, less sure of himself. Scared, even. It’s a strange sight to see: Billy Hargrove, alone and frightened, in the early morning of June. “I… I’m fine.”

His slurred words aren’t reassuring, and a part of you wants to offer him a ride on your bike. You assume he’s heading to the local pool to lifeguard, you know it’s where he spends most of his days, but you have Dustin with you and you’re still nervous around Billy.

The wounds he gave you may have healed, but some nights, when the nightmares are really bad, you wake up to his hands around your throat.

It feels wrong just leaving Billy like this, though. He’s still human, Max has slowly opened up to you about her abusive stepdad and the way he punches her brother. You know that Billy’s actions come from his hurt, but you don’t think you’re ready yet to forgive him. Not now, at least.

Reluctantly, you sigh and wave your hand to indicate to Dustin that he’s fine to start biking over. Billy doesn’t seem like a threat right now in his current state. When you see your brother start to pedal closer, you look back at Billy. “Listen, I know we aren’t… friends.”

Billy stares blankly at you, and you really hope that he can understand what you’re saying right now.

“But if you need anyone to talk to, about anything, come find me, okay?” You tell him, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm as you speak. However, when your skin makes contact with his, you flinch at how cold he is.

Before you can say anything else, Dustin finally catches up and brakes softly next to you. He looks nervously between you and Billy. “So… Uh. Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You pull away from Billy, your fingers almost numb from his cold skin, and spare him one last glance as you start to bike away. “Remember what I said, okay?”

Billy doesn’t say anything.

You and Dustin leave him stranded on the side of the road.

Neither one of you talk about this.

–

As usual, Downtown Hawkins is deserted when you and Dustin arrive at Melvald’s. The only two cars parked in front of the rundown store belong to Joyce and Hopper.

You hop off your bike and park it in the bike rack before carefully untying the container of muffins from the back. Dustin is slumped on top of his bike, silently complaining, and you wave a stern finger at him. “Wait here, okay? This will only take five minutes, I promise.”

“I’m telling Steve that you’re cheating on him with Mrs. Byers.”

“Not cheating if we aren’t together,” you quip, before opening the door to the store.

When you step inside the store, you’re greeted with Hopper obnoxiously yelling and jumping around as Joyce laughs and claps for him. Curious, you carefully side step the grown man and make your way over to the woman.

“Y/N!” Joyce lights up even more when she sees you, and then lets out a small cheer when she sees that you’re holding one of your signature baked goods containers. “Are those for me?”

“Always, Mrs. Byers.” You grin at her and set the container down. “They’re the muffins you really liked last week, thought I’d bake a special batch just for you.”

Hopper now joins you at the store’s counter in front of Joyce. He’s practically vibrating with his excited energy, so much so that he even smiles at you and claps a hand behind your back. “Kid, it’s like you knew we’d be celebrating a monumental occasion today.”

“What, did Jonathan finally wash his bedsheets?”

Joyce shakes her head and Hopper claps again, now grasping your shoulders and shakes you around. “No, even better! I got Mike out of my house!”

Through Joyce, you had learned all about Hopper’s utter disdain of Mike’s relationship with El. He has spent every day at their cabin since getting together, and even you have had to pry the girl away from Mike a few times to hang out with her. It’s hard bonding with El when Mike is breathing down your neck.

You’re all for young love, you think they’re adorable together, but Christ. You understand Hopper’s frustration.

“Actually,” you’re still being shaken by the man. “That does sound better. How’d ya do it?”

Hearing your question, Hopper thankfully stops shaking your shoulders and now happily points at Joyce. “It was all her. I’m the puppet, she’s the master. Joyce gave me a brilliant script to say to the kid.”

“So you remembered everything?” Joyce asks, now unwrapping one of your muffins with glee.

“Yeah… well,” Hopper pauses. “I mean, I had to improvise a little bit, you know?”

You wince. “Oh, that’s never good.”

He glares at you but continues to explain. “It turns out that getting to Mike was the key.”

His words only make you wince again, and you look at Joyce. She meets your eye and the two of you silently agree that something doesn’t sound right here. She questions Hopper further. “And you didn’t yell at him?”

Hopper hesitates, which you expected. “I’ll… tell you everything over dinner.”

“Okay!” You step in between the adults and wave your arms out, preventing whatever else is about to be said. “I’m still here, let’s remember that.”

The chief glares at you again and narrows his eyes. “You’re right, you are still here. Why are you still here?”

“Because Mrs. Byers loves me and I baked her delicious muffins.” You deadpan, which Joyce chuckles at. “And while I’m sure whatever she told you to say to Mike was lovely, I have my doubts that you actually listened.”

“She’s got a point, Hop.” Joyce voices.

Hopper sighs at you both. “Okay, maybe I said some things, haven’t told El the whole truth, but what else was I supposed to do?”

“Not lie to kids?” Crossing your arms, you make a face at the man.

“Easy for you to say, little miss Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Hopper scoffs at you. “Got any better advice?”

You roll your eyes at his words. You understand that the man is still grappling with being a father again, he’s never been one to handle feelings any better, so you spare him some pity and try to be honest with him, say what he needs to hear. “Look, all I’m saying is that the best thing my deadbeat father ever did was teach me kindness, and it broke my heart when he was dishonest in the end. Just, don’t be that way with El, okay?”

Hopper is quiet as your words hang in the air.

Joyce is quiet as well, looking between you and the chief with a fondness in her eyes. It’s not often she sees someone render Hopper speechless, and she knows that it’s one of the many things she loves the most about your relationship with him. Though she would never tell you this, she thinks that Hopper secretly has his own fondness for you as well.

When the silence stretches for an uncomfortably long amount of time, you clear your throat and change the subject. “Well! This was fun, happy we did this.”

Hopper snorts, relieved you’re moving on as well. “Get lost, kid.”

“Gladly.” You turn back to Joyce and press a swift kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Mrs. Byers!”

Joyce says goodbye as well, and when you’ve left the store, she faces Hopper with a slight smirk. “She’s a good kid, Hop.”

“She is,” he agrees, looking down at his shoes. He will never admit this to anyone else, but to Joyce he knows his words are safe. “She’s the best of ‘em.”

–

When you finally get to the mall, Dustin basically dumps his bike in a spot next to a disgruntled older couple and runs before you can even slow down. He’s so lost in his excitement to see Steve as he runs towards Scoops and leaves you to deal with his bike and the couple alone, which you groan at.

“He acts like it’s been a year,” you grumble, finally hopping off your own bike to grab Dustin’s and secure them both to a nearby rack. After mumbling a quick apology to the couple your brother practically threw a bike at, you run after him inside.

By the time you catch up, Dustin has just entered Scoops and is talking to Robin. You approach, curious to see how this event will unfold. Robin hasn’t met your brother yet, and you have a feeling that his abrasive nature will either make her his biggest fan or absolutely hate him.

It’s the Henderson charm, really.

“I’m Dustin,” your brother introduces himself as you come to stand next to him. When he notices your arrival, he motions towards you and winks at Robin. “I’m sure Y/N has told you all about me.”

Robin raises her eyebrows at the kid, and you try to cover a giggle with a cough. “I’m Robin. I’m sure Y/N has told you a lot about me.”

“I probably have,” shrug, knowing you always talk about the people you love. When Robin and Dustin both look at you with confused faces, you quickly clarify, “I’ve talked about you both, I mean.”

“Can we cut the chit chat?” Dustin asks, now annoyed by how long this conversation is taking. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Robin, but uh. Is he here?”

“Is who here?” Robin looks over at you for help, but before you can prepare her for the inevitable storm of Steve’s bizarre and endearing friendship with Dustin, the older teen’s body comes crashing through the backdoor and his sneakers squeak loudly against the tile.

“Hendersons!” Steve raises his arms in the air in greeting, an ecstatic smile on his face when he sees both you and Dustin standing in Scoops Ahoy. You and your brother start to laugh as Steve now dances around, cheering and gleeful. “You’re both here! Little Henderson is back!”

“I’m back!” Dustin cheers. “And you got the job!”

Steve is beaming and his smile is probably one of the happiest you’ve seen cross his pretty face. He had complained about missing Dustin the entire month he had been gone, moaning and groaning about how he was bored at your house now that he didn’t have Dustin to shoo away.

“I got the job!” Steve mimes playing the trumpet before he starts his intricate and dumb handshake with Dustin.

It’s a complicated process, with fist bumps and pretend lightsaber death. They had come up with it during a particularly boring snow day at your house. You watched as they thought up the handshake while you made cocoa for everyone, heart swelling as Steve was so patient with your brother and encouraged his nerdy little habits.

It had taken them almost the entire day to create what they deemed “the perfect handshake”, and as they go through it once more in Scoops Ahoy, you feel the same swelling in your chest as you did the very first time you saw them come up with the handshake.

While you gaze fondly at Dustin and Steve, Robin stands next to you and watches in horror. As Steve pretends to spew his guts everywhere, the girl leans over to you and says, “Is this what you deal with every day?”

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile softly at the two boys. You missed seeing them together, more than you thought you had.

Robin sees the dreamy look in your eyes as you stare at Steve and she gags. Unhappy with how this day is looking, she turns to him. “How many children are you friends with?”

Steve’s smile falls and he sighs in defeat. Wordlessly he points at Robin as he looks at Dustin and raises his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. He’s had to deal with Robin’s teasing all summer, and Dustin seems to catch onto what he’s trying to tell him, so he quickly changes the subject. “Sorry we got here so late, man. Y/N insisted on gossiping with Mrs. Byers before coming here.”

“I spoke with her for five minutes.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Yeah, five minutes too long.”

“Your breath reeks.”

“You have a pimple on your chin.”

You gasp and quickly cover your face. “I do not–”

“This is fascinating,” Robin whispers as she looks between you and Dustin. “It’s like there’s two Y/Ns.”

Steve, having heard Robin, laughs. His smile had returned to his face as he watched you interact with your brother. “They’re reunited for one day and are already at each other’s throats.”

“Got a month of insults to catch up on,” you flick Steve, who winces and rubs his nose, offended.

Dustin suddenly straightens up. “Speaking of catching up…” He looks at you and tries to subtly motion over at Steve, mouthing “Russians!”, and being everything but discrete.

Steve frowns, unsure what’s happening, but you’re too busy worrying about revealing anything to Robin; she’s scarily good at reading people. Looking wearily at her, you clear your throat and tug at Dustin’s shirt. “C’mon, why don’t we get some ice cream and tell Steve about what you built at camp?”

Again Steve frowns. He had been hoping to share a sundae with you, not talk about boring science stuff with your brother. “Why do I wanna hear about some weird nerd tech–”

“Because you promised me free ice cream last night, when we called.” You interrupt, silently pleading with him to catch onto what you’re saying. “Remember?”

Something shifts within Steve’s eyes and his carefree expression now darkens. He remembers the fear in your voice last night over the phone, how you had asked him to tell you stories to fall asleep to. Clearing his throat, Steve nods and plays along. “Oh, how could I forget? Take Dustin to your booth and I’ll whip up some sundaes.”

You smile at him, thankful as always for how attuned to you he is, before you say a quick goodbye to Robin and tug your brother over to where you normally sit. Once you’re sure Robin isn’t listening, you yank at the boy. “Real subtle back there, doofus.”

“Oh, like Robin would know what Russians could mean.” Dustin grumbles as he slides into your designated booth. His hand catches on something in the seat and he tugs at it, pulling out an old Captain America comic. Holding it up, he narrows his eyes at you. “You really made a home here, huh?”

“Sure did,” you prop your feet up and dig out the Spider-Man comic you had been reading a few days ago. “The ice cream is surprisingly good here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure the ice cream is the reason you’re always here.” Dustin doesn’t even want to imagine how many hours you’ve spent in this cheesy ice cream parlor ogling over Steve. Maybe it’s a good thing he was gone most of the summer.

You flip to the last page you left off on and ignore Dustin’s insinuation. “Hey, free ice cream is free ice cream.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” Steve arrives and places down two giant sundaes onto the table. He slides next to you into the booth with a grand flourish. “Tada!”

Dustin wastes no time digging into his ice cream, making obnoxious noises as he shoves the food into his mouth. You cringe, disgusted that you’re related to him, but Steve kisses your cheek when the kid isn’t looking, and you can’t help but smile. Sneaking your own kiss to his cheek, you thank him. “You’re getting really good at whipping up sundaes, Steve.”

He preens at your praise. “It’s all in the forearms, ya know?” He makes a show out of rolling up his sleeves to show off his arms, which you giggle at with a slight flush on your face. Despite working inside all day, Steve has a nice sun kissed tan, which compliments how long his hair has gotten this summer.

Between his short Scoops Ahoy shorts and his hair streaked with sunlight, summer looks good on Steve.

In between bites of his ice cream, Dustin lifts his head up. “Quit talking about Steve’s arms and flirting in front of me, it’s gross.”

You fling a banana peel at him. “You’re the one too busy devouring his food to talk about anything else.”

“So you admit you’re flirting with me.” Steve teases, winking at you.

Dustin covers his eyes in disgust, forgetting about his ice cream entirely. “Seriously, stop it! You’re my sister, how would you feel if I flirted with Suzie in front of you?”

“I would–” You try to think of a response, but ultimately you deflate, unable to come up with anything. Frustratingly, you realize that the kid has a point; you’d be incredibly grossed out as well. “I would hate it.” You sigh, accepting defeat.

“Who’s Suzie?” Steve asks.

“Dustin’s girlfriend.” You say, popping a cherry into your mouth as you eagerly await the teen’s reaction to the girlfriend news.

As expected, Steve’s jaw drops and turns to your brother. No way the little twerp got a girlfriend before him this summer. “Girlfriend? Since when?”

“Met her at camp,” Dustin smirks at him, proud he’s surprised Steve. “She’s super hot, too. Hotter than Phoebe Cates.”

You roll your eyes at his insistence of referencing Suzie’s appearance, but Steve seems interested, although in disbelief as well. “No, no way. Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No.”

“Why is Phoebe Cates the gold standard?” You ask, unsure when she became everyone’s dream woman. All things considered, she’s incredibly attractive, but it’s weird that every boy you’ve spoken to about this universally finds her attractive. Steve finds her attractive, which you’re choosing not to think about because you don’t look anything like her.

Steve hears the slight bitterness in your tone and shuffles closer to you in the booth. Meanwhile, Dustin takes another bite out of his sundae and nods at him. “Mhm, she’s brilliant, too. She doesn’t even care that my real pearls are still coming in.”

“That’s great, Dustin!” You say, happy that your brother has found a girl who accepts him as he is. It’s sweet, really.

“I know, right?” He sits up straighter in the booth and smiles even wider. “She says kissing is better without teeth.”

You and Steve share a horrified look. Neither of you can believe what you’ve just heard, and you think a part of you died inside. Suddenly, the delicious sundae you’d been eating now turns to cement in your stomach at the thought of your little brother kissing a girl who enjoys his lack of teeth. “Oh, that’s… Yeah.”

“Wow!” Steve tries to mask his own horror and disgust, leaning even closer to you now to try and ground you as well. “Yeah, that’s… That’s great! Proud of you, man. That’s–That’s kinda romantic?”

Dustin basks in Steve’s praise and your disgust slowly melts away. Your brother genuinely seems happy to be with Suzie and even happier to tell Steve about it all. He won’t admit it, but you know he idolizes the teen. Steve’s word is like an oath to him, not even you have this much influence over the boy. If it were anyone else, you’d be offended and hurt, but seeing Steve flash Dustin a wink, you couldn’t have chosen anyone better for your brother to admire.

“So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?” Dustin motions towards his half-eaten sundae before turning to you. “How much ice cream have you had this summer?”

“A lot,” you shrug, taking another bite of your own sundae.

Steve lazily drapes an arm over you, which Dustin narrows his eyes at. “Yeah, I mean. Sure. It’s not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the ladies.”

“Ugh,” you scoff in disgust at Steve’s words and shrug his arm off of you before scooting away from him. Sometimes you forget how much of an idiot he can be. That he used to wear the crown of King Steve. You turn slightly away from him and finish eating your ice cream, annoyed and slightly hurt, though you know you have no right to be.

It’s not like you’re with Steve, anyways.

Robin, from across the parlor, sees your sudden annoyance at Steve and calls out to him, “Yeah, and how’s that working out for you?”

“Ignore her,” Steve groans, not having the energy to deal with Robin’s quips and your anger being directed at him. He turns to you and lowers his voice. “I was kidding, Y/N. You know that–”

“Robin seems cool,” Dustin interrupts, not at all wanting to witness a lover’s feud between you and Steve. He left you two alone for a month, he thought he’d come back to you guys being an old married couple. Instead, he still has to suffer through your weird in between chaos.

You jump at the chance to gush about Robin, all while avoiding Steve’s pleading eyes. “She’s amazing. Genuinely one of the coolest people I know.”

“She’s not.” Steve corrects you, shaking his head. You roll your eyes at him and flick his ear, but as your hand lowers, he catches it with his and intertwines your fingers with a practiced ease. The action makes you blush and look away, still not ready to forgive him just yet. Steve sees the blush and feels your fingers tighten around his and he feels as if he can breathe again. There’s hope, at least. “So, where are the other knuckleheads?”

Dustin sighs. “They ditched me yesterday.”

“No,” Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N, did they really?”

“They… Kinda did.” You wince, absentmindedly placing your other hand on top of the one Steve is holding. He smiles softly at the action, momentarily forgetting about what you've just told him.

“My first day back! Can you believe that shit?” Dustin’s hurt from last night returns, which only makes you feel worse.

Steve leans forward now, invested and equally as offended as the boy. “Seriously?”

“I swear to god,” Dustin pauses to take another bite of ice cream. “They’re gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don’t get to share in my glory.”

You drop your head onto the table and groan. “Is this really how you’re going to segue into the Russian thing?”

“You’re my sister. Why would you expect anything less of me?”

“Touché.” You lift your head back up and continue eating your ice cream. It’s the only thing keeping you going right now. Steve has learned how to make your sundaes perfect, adding the peach ice cream you adore with just the right amount of whipped cream.

Meanwhile, Steve has a confused look on his face as he looks between you and Dustin. “Glory? Russians? Did I miss something?”

Dustin smiles mischievously and lowers his voice as he slides closer to the teen. You roll your eyes at his antics, knowing that the conversation that’s about to unfold will only give you another headache. You missed Steve and Dustin being together, but you didn’t miss the way they seemed to double in stupidity when together.

Looking around to make sure he won’t be heard, Dustin begins to explain. “So, last night, as Y/N and I were trying to get in contact with Suzie…” He pauses, sees that Scoops Ahoy is now filling with more customers, and lowers his voice even more to an almost inaudible whisper and covers his mouth.

You and Steve both lean forward, unable to hear him. The teen asks Dustin to repeat himself while you sit there with slight amazement. You know what Dustin is trying to say, you’re more just surprised the kid can be so quiet. It’s a goddamn miracle, honestly.

Dustin inhales deeply and again tries to discreetly inform Steve of the Russian code, but his whispers are still too low to hear. Taking a final bite of your ice cream, you click your tongue at your brother. “You’re really killing it there, buddy.”

“Dude, just speak louder.” Steve’s curious interest is now more of an annoyance.

“I intercepted a secret Russian communication!” Dustin all but shouts, which causes you to practically throw yourself over the table to cover his mouth.

“Jesus fuck!” You look around and see everyone’s eyes on you, and with your hand still clamped firmly over your brother’s mouth, you clear your throat and laugh nervously. “I mean, haha. Pardon me.” The customers give you a weird look but turn away, though Robin continues to stare at you.

Steve gently removes your hand from Dustin’s mouth and once again intertwines his fingers with yours. “Jeez, okay. Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”

“Did you have to yell?” You sneer at Dustin, still looking around nervously to make sure no one is paying too much attention to the three of you. While Hawkins Lab was overrun by Demodogs and every scientist within it died, you’re still terrified that they still have allies watching your every move.

Not that you think the Lab is responsible for Russians, but… Better safe than sorry.

Dustin rolls his eyes at you. “Your boyfriend is the one who couldn’t hear me.”

You’re about to correct him when Steve waves the boy off and goes back to the main topic. “What does any of that mean, though? The Russian code and whatever.”

“It means that we can never catch a break–”

“It means, Steve,” Dustin sends you a dirty look. “That we could be heroes. True American heroes.”

Steve seems into the idea and you want to scream. You hate the way Dustin is explaining all of this. “This could mean danger, guys.”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you and Steve smiles wearily. “I don’t know, Y/N. It doesn’t seem so bad, ya know? We’ve fought Demodogs, how bad could some Russians be?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes. “The Demodogs were created by shifty government facilities. Why are we assuming Russia doesn’t have their own?”

“But… American heroes.” Steve looks heartbreakingly pathetic as he says this, and you realize now that his fixation on being seen as some hero stems from the hurt he still feels over his father. He hadn’t turned into who had expected to become, something that you know his father reminds him of every time he comes back from some business trip. You wish you could convince Steve that he’s more than what his father could ever expect him to be, but you know he wouldn’t listen.

With Steve’s pleading eyes looking at you, lost and hopeless, you can’t argue with him. Sighing, you accept that this is something he has to take part in, if only to rebuild his crumbling confidence. “Tell him what you’re thinking, Dustin.”

“Gladly.” Your brother wastes no time diving in, once more eager and excited to have the attention on him, and it’s only now that you realize he’s doing this for the same reason Steve is: they both feel abandoned and hurt. “We need your help.”

“With what?”

Dustin digs through his backpack and takes out the Russian dictionary he made you steal from work. He holds it up and shows it to Steve. “Translation.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he grabs the book to inspect it. There’s a new spark in his eyes, one that died the day his father told him he wouldn’t attend his graduation. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you exhale and slump in your seat. There’s no going back now. “I just want you both to know that I hate this plan and your excitement over it, but if I don’t help then you guys will somehow end up in a Russian gulag, and that would just be on me.”

Steve shares a look with Dustin, whose sigh reflects your own. “Glad you have faith in us, Y/N.”

–

It’s Steve's idea to work on the translation in the backroom of Scoops Ahoy, and neither you or Dustin argue. Technically, he’s the only one who has any real responsibilities today with work and all, so it makes sense to stay at Scoops and hide out there.

Dustin sits at the table next to you as he replays the tape recording over and over again. Steve paces the room and eats a banana, claiming he needed “brain food” to focus on the complex Russian language. You sit with your head in your hands, trying desperately to hold onto the bizarre language that floats around the room.

After his tenth time replaying the code, Dustin pauses the recording and looks at you and Steve. “So, what do you guys think?”

“It sounded familiar.” Steve shoves a piece of banana into his mouth. You cringe at the obscene amount of food he tries to chew at once. Seeing your disgust, Steve waves the banana in your face and asks with a mouthful of food, “Wan sum?”

“It’s like you want me to hate you today,” you slap the banana away, which he chuckles at.

Dustin gets both of your attention again with slight annoyance. He didn’t miss the weird flirting between the two of you at all. “Guys, focus. What do you mean the recording sounds familiar?”

“The music,” Steve still speaks with his mouth full. “The music right there at the end.”

“Why are you listening to the music, Steve?” Dustin exclaims, exasperated.

As your brother berates Steve for his lack of Russian translating, you sit up in your seat processing what he’s just previously said. While you hadn’t thought much of it before, now that Steve has pointed it out, the music does sound familiar. You swear you’ve heard it somewhere before, but you can’t remember where or when. It’s a hazy memory, distant in your mind, yet right in front of you. It’s incredibly frustrating.

“I think Steve is onto something,” you say, but the two boys are too busy fighting to hear you.

“I’m trying to listen to the Russian but there’s music–”

Suddenly the back door swings open and Robin appears. She looks agitated after having to man the cash register all by herself while Steve hides out in the breakroom. “Alright, babysitting time is over. You need to get in there.” When she sees that you’ve erased her whiteboard and replaced her “you suck” columns with the Russian alphabet, her agitation only increases. “Hey, my board! That was important data, shitbirds.”

You get up from the table and walk up to the girl, feeling bad. While you aren’t sure what exactly her “you suck” column and tallies were for, it had been her creation that you had erased without thinking to ask. Plus, you really don’t want her seeing the Russian dictionary on the table. “I’m sorry, Robin–”

“Not you, Y/N. You’re not a shitbird,” she points over to Steve and Dustin. “Those two are shitbirds.”

“I guarantee you, what we’re doing is way more important than your data.” Dustin interjects, a smug look on his face that makes you want to scream. He isn’t at all helping the situation.

Robin begins to walk over to the boys and you reluctantly follow. “Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?”

Dustin’s jaw drops and Steve almost chokes on his banana. Seeing their stunned reactions of Robin having figured out what you’ve been doing, you sigh in disappointment. They’re such idiots sometimes. They wrote Russian on the whiteboard, out in the open, and have been playing the recording out loud, full volume, on repeat.

Of course Robin caught onto what you were doing.

Which only makes your nervous body tense up even more. You hate that you have to lie to her, you’ve become really close with her during your visits to Scoops, but you don’t want to drag her into anything dangerous. You’re not sure what exactly any of this Russian code means, but Robin has been nothing but kind to you this summer, you truly care about her, and it would kill you if something were to happen because of you.

So, despite knowing how smart Robin is, you try to think of a cover story. “We were just interested in the language. Ya know, a summer hobby.”

“I can hear everything, Y/N.” Robin sees right through your lies. “Your idiotic brother and boyfriend are both extremely loud.”

“Steve isn’t my boyfriend–”

“You three think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape and you’re trying to translate, but haven’t figured out a word because you didn’t realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do.”

You, Steve, and Dustin all look at one another in varying degrees of awe and despair.

Robin, seeing your stunned faces, smiles. “Sound about right?”

“How could you not know about the Russian alphabet, Y/N?” Dustin angrily whispers at you as if somehow it’s your responsibility to know the ins-and-outs of the language.

“Why would I–you know what, no.” You ignore your brother and turn to Robin, trying to alleviate the situation and prevent her from finding out anything else. She’s too fucking smart, it’s both admirable and aggravating. “Look, whatever you think you heard–”

Suddenly Robin lunges for the Russian dictionary on the table, but Steve’s quick reflexes enable him to grab the book before she can. “Woah! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I wanna hear it.” She juts her chin out in defiance, though you see the slightly hurt expression she tries to mask. She hates that you’re purposely excluding her and taking Steve’s side in this.

You wish you could tell her the truth.

“Why?” You ask in unison alongside Steve and Dustin.

“Because maybe I can help. I’m fluent in four languages, ya know.”

Dustin perks up, now more open to the idea of Robin’s involvement. “Russian?”

“Ou-yay are-yay umb-day.”

Steve and Dustin gasp, believing that they’ve just heard Robin say something in Russian, but you know better. One summer, when the party had been especially nosy and insisted on following you and Jonathan around, the two of you had learned pig latin in order to communicate without the twerps eavesdropping.

Learning against the table, you smirk at Robin. “Osay ouyay owknay igpay atinlay.”

“Holy shit!” Dustin gasps and Steve almost falls over with how quickly he looks at you in shock. Both boys stare at you in awe and you almost feel bad for their tiny little brains.

Robin can’t help but smile at you, you somehow always manage to surprise her. “Impressive, Y/N. Didn’t think you knew pig latin either.”

“That was pig latin?” Steve scrunches his face and hits your brother with his banana peel. “Idiot.”

“Steve, please don’t hit my brother with banana peels,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s only noon and you’re already exhausted from today’s events. “But yes, that was pig latin.”

Dustin shoves Steve away from him and focuses on you again. “When did you learn pig latin?”

“The summer you and the party decided to stalk me and Jonathan.” You shrug, though you smile fondly at the memory. It had been a good summer, just the two of you holed up in your room as you quizzed each other on the bizarre language.

Steve, seeing your fondness at the memory, frowns. He doesn’t like the uncomfortable heat that he feels ignite within his stomach at the thought of you still being so fond over Jonathan. He trusts you, he trusts what you have, but he will never feel equal to him.

Robin notices Steve’s brewing insecurity and quickly changes the subject. She doesn’t have time for the usual hormonal drama between the two of you. All she wants right now is to decipher the Russian so that she can catch a break from Erica and her demanding need to try every free sample ever. “Back to the main point: I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I’ve been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me.”

You bite your lip. Truthfully, Robin has the highest chance of unraveling whatever the hell is in the recording. You’re horrible with languages, high school Spanish had nearly killed you, and Steve and Dustin stand no better chance. “Robin…”

“Come on,” she begs. “It’s Steve's turn to sling ice cream and my turn to translate.”

Steve and Dustin turn to you, unanimously agreeing that you’re the leader in this situation; whatever call you make, they’ll listen. Robin sees the conflict on your face and tries one last time. “I don’t even want credit. I’m just bored and wanna hang out with you.”

Your head spins. Robin’s pleading eyes are hard to fight against and you realize that she already knows more than you’d want her to; she’s already a part of it all, whether you like it or not. Sighing, you give in. “Fine, but only if you promise not to ask any questions about whatever we may find.”

“What would I even question?” She asks, unsure why your tone is more foreboding than accepting.

You share a look with Steve and Dustin. The three of you know just how quickly something simple can spiral into chaos in Hawkins. “Just… promise me, okay?”

Robin extends her hand, just happy to finally have something better to do. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

After you shake her hand, she tosses her ice cream scoop to Steve and he hands her the Russian dictionary. Seeing the exchange sends a slight shiver down your spine. You don’t like how much it feels like you’ve just signed Robin’s life away.

–

True to her word, Robin’s ears are little geniuses.

With her helping, you and Dustin are able to speed through the translating as Steve works the register. You’re tasked with writing down the letters that Dustin calls from the whiteboard as Robin listens to the tape over and over again.

“Weird ‘r’ with a hook!” Your brother declares for the last letter.

You write it down and can’t help but frown at the message you’ve seemingly deciphered. Showing the writing to Robin, you ask what she thinks. “Are you sure it was that weird ‘r’ sound?”

“I’m positive,” she says. “C’mon, let’s go tell Steve.”

“Are we sure–” You try to ask her again, but Robin has already made her way to the sliding window and gets Steve’s attention.

“We’ve got our first sentence!”

You make your way over and lean against the window as well. Steve, holding two ice cream cones, seems excited by the news. “Oh, seriously?”

“It’s a hesitant first sentence.” You butt in, still unsure if it’s even correct.

Robin rolls her eyes at you. “Ignore her, I’m right.” Then, clearing her throat, she does an impressive Russian accent. “‘The week is long’.”

Steve’s shoulders slump, clearly having expected something better. “Well that’s thrilling.”

“Told you it was a hesitant first sentence.” Then you turn to Robin. “Nice accent, by the way.”

“Why thank you,” she tips her hat at you before focusing back on Steve. “And I know it isn’t thrilling, but it’s progress!”

And with that, Robin spins around and goes back to the table in the breakroom, eager to decipher more of the code. You’re about to kiss Steve’s cheek and say goodbye, but then your eyes land on a familiar red-haired girl and her friend standing in front of the register. You look down at the ice cream in Steve’s hands and note the familiar order you’ve come to memorize since the mall opened.

“Max? El?” You lean further out the window, pleasantly surprised to see them. “What are you guys doing here? Where’s the rest of the party?”

The girls wave at you and giggle, and you realize now that you’ve never actually seen them alone together before. Normally they’re with Lucas or Mike, so it’s a bit jarring to see them getting along so well without the boys. Jarring, but also very lovely.

“We don’t need those idiots.” Max responds, which makes El giggle even more.

Steve whistles, impressed by Max’s bluntness, and hands them their ice cream. They begin to eat the treat before a thought occurs to him. “Wait a second, are you even allowed to be here?”

You walk through the breakroom and come out the main doors to join Steve at the register. While you’re happy to see Max and El getting along, Steve has a point. Why is El here in such a public space? When you had asked Hopper last month if you could take El to Steve’s graduation, it had taken a whole debate and a fresh batch of cookies in order to convince the old man to let her come.

El is still technically forbidden from being seen in public, and yet here she is: running around Starcourt with Max.

You put your hands on the counter and lean towards the girls. They take a few steps back, now knowing that you’re onto them. “Max, El, what are you up to?”

Their eyes widen while you narrow yours, daring them to lie. Then, quickly glancing at one another, they turn around and run out of Scoops Ahoy, leaving you alone with Steve. You both stand there, dumbfounded.

“I thought I only ever had to worry about the boys.” You whisper, horrified. “The girls were supposed to be the ones I could trust.”

Steve rubs your shoulders and kisses your cheek. “You’re gonna go after them, aren’t you?”

You drop your head and sigh. “Yeah, I am.”

“I’ll tell Robin you had a babysitting emergency.” He presses a kiss to your neck now, which you shiver at, before gently shoving you out from behind the counter. “Good luck, angel.”

Steve’s kisses give you the energy you need to run after Max and El. They’re surprisingly fast as they giggle and trade ice cream cones to share. You call after them as you dodge random people in the mall, but your calls are in vain. They ignore you and continue to skip happily away from you.

“Guys!” When you finally catch up to them, they’re outside standing in front of the bike rack. “Why are you in front of the bikes–oh.”

You see Mike, Lucas, and Will unlocking their bikes from the rack as they bicker over something. Faintly you hear Mike and Lucas arguing about splitting money while Will is silent.

There’s a tension between the girls and boys that you now take note of. Normally El would have already been wrapped around Mike’s arms, but she remains by your side as Max approaches the boys. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?”

When Mike sees El, he drops his bike in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Shopping.” El says as she glares at the boy.

You’ve never seen her so cold towards someone. It’s kind of frightening, honestly. “Oh, Wheeler, what did you do?”

“What did I do? No, what did you do? You’re the one who is letting her walk around Starcourt where everyone can see her!” Mike shrieks, always finding ways to blame you for his own problems.

You scoff. “Hey, I’ve only known about this for like, a second longer than you have.”

“Sure, likely story.”

“Have you ever considered not pissing off your girlfriend?”

“Have you ever considered getting a better boyfriend than Harrington?”

“Okay–”

Max steps in between you and Mike, annoyed. “Both of you shut up!” She waves her hand over El’s outfit and tries to turn the conversation around. “This is El’s new style. What do you think?”

“I think she looks nice–”

Mike cuts you off. “What’s wrong with you? You know she’s not allowed to be here.”

“What is she, your little pet?”

El clenches her jaw. “Yeah. Am I your pet?”

“What? No!” Mike denies, equally as confused as you are.

You’re not quite sure how you ended up in this situation.

“Then why do you treat me like garbage?” El questions the boy.

You frown at this and subtly step towards Lucas, desperately hoping for some clarification. “Did I miss something?”

“It’s a long story.” He sighs, and you now realize that Max must be angry with him, too.

El continues to interrogate Mike, and you almost feel bad for the boy. “You said Nana was sick.”

“She is! She is sick.” Mike lies through his teeth. You think about what Hopper told you earlier, how he had said some things to get Mike away from El, and you suppose now that it had involved some type of lie about the kid’s grandma.

Then Mike shoves at Lucas to get him to play along as well. Reluctantly he echoes his friend, though you know he’s aware that he’s only making this worse for himself. “She’s super sick, that’s why we’re here, actually.”

Mike is quick to follow along. “Yeah, we’re shopping! Not for us, but for her, for Nana.”

You catch Will’s eyes, who has remained silent this entire time, and he shakes his head at you in disappointment. You look back at Mike and Lucas now, unamused. “Nana isn’t sick, is she?”

“She is! But…” Mike fumbles over his words now. “We’re also here to get a gift for El. We just–we couldn’t find anything that suited her and I only have like, $3.50, so it’s hard.”

“It’s expensive… Had we known you were at the mall we would’ve asked you for money.” Lucas mumbles, which you flick his forehead at. “Ow, Y/N!”

El looks between Lucas and Mike, her eyes showing her hurt. “You lie.” When neither boy says anything, her hurt only grows and her voice wavers with tears. “Why do you lie?”

Again, El’s words are met with silence. Mike looks down, too ashamed to meet her eyes, and you shift uncomfortably, feeling even worse for the kid. You hadn’t expected to witness an awkward relationship feud today, and it wasn’t all entirely his fault. You know that Hopper played a role in this.

Later, when you have the time, you’re definitely going to yell at the police chief about this.

As the silence drags on, the local bus that drives everyone in Hawkins to Starcourt now arrives in the parking lot. Hearing its brakes hiss, El looks behind her and seems to make up her mind about something. Her face is stony as she approaches Mike and her words are laced with venom. “I dump your ass.”

You and Max gasp, though yours is more from shock and Max is more from being impressed.

Mike’s face falls and El whips around and begins walking towards the bus. Max follows, waving goodbye to you, and you’re left to deal with the unfortunate outcome of this bizarre situation.

Laughing nervously, you awkwardly pat Mike’s back. “You’ll… Uh, fix this, right?”

Mike slaps your hand away and marches back towards his bike. His shoulders droop and he looks tired from all he’s had to deal with today. Lucas doesn’t look any better and silently follows after his friend. Will is the only one who remains, and he drops his head to your chest and groans. “I just wanted to play DnD today.”

“I know, little bee.” You scratch his head and try to console him. “But sometimes life gets in the way. Right now Mike and Lucas need you, do you think you could help them?”

Will looks up at you. “I don’t know… Maybe, I guess.”

“Do what you can,” you kiss his forehead, wishing you could do more for him. All he’s wanted to do all summer is be a kid again, but his peers are growing older and leaving him behind. It isn’t anyone’s fault. “I gotta go, buddy. But I promise you and I will do something this week, just the two of us, okay?”

He nods, content with this, and you ruffle his hair before heading back inside to Scoops.

–

Hours later, you, Steve, Dustin, and Robin all uncover the rest of the Russian code.

You stand with your back against Steve’s chest as he has his arms draped loosely over you. Robin and Dustin stand to your left as you all face the whiteboard that has the message written on it, reading it out loud.

“‘The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west’.”

There’s a pause as you all take in the bizarre message. You’re extremely doubtful that it’s right. The order of the words is too abstract to possibly be purposeful. It just doesn’t make any sense.

“Are we sure this is right?” You ask the group, knowing no one else will utter the doubt that settles over the room. Steve tightens his arms around you and shrugs.

“It has to be.” Dustin mumbles, though even he looks unsure.

Robin sighs. “Well, whether or not we’re right, dingus and I have to close up shop.”

Steve groans but reluctantly lets go of you so that he can help Robin with closing. While the two teens wash the ice cream scoopers and put away the remaining ice cream, you sit with Dustin at one of the booths.

“Maybe it’s a code?”

“Dustin, we just translated a foreign language. Thinking it’s a code seems like a cop-out, honestly.” You rest your head in your hands and watch Steve count the money in the register. Feeling your eyes on him, he looks up and winks at you. Blushing, you look back at your brother. “We probably just translated it wrong.”

“My ears are right! We didn’t translate anything wrong!” Robin shouts from across the store.

Dustin perks up. “See? We have to assume we’re onto something.”

You bite your lip, still unsure, but leave the topic alone for now. There’s no point arguing with Dustin and Robin because it’s not like any of you can just ask a native Russian speaker who is correct. If it somehow ends up being a hidden code, then you’ll apologize to Robin’s ears later.

It’s quiet in the parlor after that, but when Steve and Robin have finished closing and he pulls the gate down to lock up the store before you all go home, Steve can’t help but bring the subject up again. “I mean–it’s just, it can’t be right.”

“It’s right.” Robin affirms once more, and Dustin nods at her appreciatively.

“Honesty, I think it’s great news.”

Steve walks next to you as the four of you slowly head towards the mall’s exit. It’s late, you’re tired from your long day of translating the Russian language, and you’re ready to go to bed. Then, as if somehow knowing the exhaustion that weighs upon you, you feel Steve slip his hand into yours. His fingers are warm and the touch soothes you as he gently guides the two of you.

“How is this great news?” Steve asks your brother. “I mean, so much for being American heroes. It’s total nonsense.”

“The goal isn’t to be American heroes, dummy.” You chide, tugging at your hands to make sure he looks at you and listens. “We aren’t still going to follow this, are we?”

Dustin rolls his eyes at you both. “It’s not nonsense, it’s too specific and obviously a code. And yes we’re going to keep following this. We’re onto something, I can feel it!”

“All I feel right now is a crippling migraine forming,” you groan, rubbing at your temples.

Steve kisses your head in concern, feeling bad that he’s kept you out so late. However, he also really, really would love to become someone important. Someone worthy of his dad’s favor, so he follows after Dustin, curious despite it all. “What do you mean a code?”

“Like a super secret spy code.”

“That’s a total stretch.”

You snort. “That’s what I said, but no. Why should we ever listen to Y/N? It’s not like she’s always right in the end.”

Robin winces, afraid to annoy you further, but she can’t help but agree with Dustin. “I don’t know, is it really a stretch?”

“No, please don’t tell me you believe my brother.” You’re betrayed, hurt even, that Robin would succumb to Dustin’s fantasies.

Normally you’re all for believing your brother, but Russians in Hawkins leaving a hidden code in a radio frequency that can be accessed by the public? You may have fought alternate dimension monsters and you may know a girl with mind control powers, but even this feels far fetched.

“Listen, just for kicks, let’s entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What’d you think they were gonna say, ‘fire the warhead at noon’?” Robin raises her eyebrows at you.

“Well… no.” You slump your shoulders, knowing that she has a point. “But–”

“Just admit we’re right, Y/N.” Dustin says, annoyed.

Robin turns to you and almost groans when she sees your hand intertwined with Steve’s. Her voice falters for a moment at the sight, but she clears her throat and carries on with the conversation. “And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so… ‘the silver cat feeds’. Why would anyone talk like that unless they’re trying to mask the meaning of their message?”

Dustin is next to her now, hanging onto her every word as you and Steve lag behind. “Exactly!”

“It is a weird phrase,” you mumble under your breath, and Steve can’t help but chuckle at how endearing you are when you try to play the reasonable role. It’s never any use, you’re everything that hope and optimism embodies; it’s adorable.

Robin sees that you’re close to giving in and begins to ramble now. “Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?” Again Dustin agrees with everything she says and Steve shrugs his shoulders while all you do is sigh in defeat. Looking at your brother, Robin concludes, “Guess that confirms your suspicions.”

“Evil Russians.”

“Okay, no.” You step between them now. “What if they’re just, like, really shy Russians who want some privacy? Why do we always jump to the evil conclusion?”

Dustin shoulders you to get you to shut up, and you shove him back, starting a small spat between the two of you. He hits your shoulder, you hit his stomach, and Steve watches with amusement while Robin stares in horror.

“Do we stop them?” She asks the teen.

Steve shakes his head. “I’ve learned that it’s best to just let them fight it out. It’s been a month, they’re behind on their fist fighting schedule.”

“I heard that!” You quickly say to him before yanking Dustin’s shirt to get him off of your back.

Seeing your struggle, Robin forces your brother off of you and holds him by his arms so that he doesn’t jump on you again. Dustin complains, but quickly shuts up at what Robin says. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you that I agree with you, this is totally evil Russians.”

Dustin stops struggling against her, now elated at the idea of defeating evil foreigners. “So how do we crack it?”

You were scared that Robin and Dustin wouldn’t get along, but as you watch them bounce schemes off of one another and plan an evil Russian take down, you’re now terrified of the friendship brewing between them. It’s worse than Steve with Dustin; Robin is just as cunning as your brother is.

She thinks for a moment. “I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges.”

“Have we ever considered a game plan for after poking our noses where they don’t belong?” Dustin and Robin both glare at you and you hold your hands up in surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

“Ignore her, Robin. She likes to pretend she’s the rational one in these types of situations.” Dustin whispers to her, which you roll your eyes at. Steve kisses your cheek as a way to console you as your brother continues to speak. “Anyways, maybe the ‘silver cat’ is a meeting place?”

“Or a person.” Robin theorizes.

“Or a weapon.”

As the two of them come up with insane theories about what the code could mean, you notice that Steve is no longer by your side. Turning around, you find him stopped at one of the carousel horses meant for little kids. He’s bent over it, examining it. You frown, unsure what he’s doing, and walk over to him.

Resting a hand against his back, you lean down next to him. “Can I ask what we’re looking at here, honey?” He’s mumbling under his breath and digging through his pockets for something. Now you’re starting to get concerned. “Steve?”

“I need–do you have a quarter?”

“No?” You’re even more concerned now. Placing the back of your hand against his forehead, you check his temperature. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Sure you’re tall enough for that ride?” Robin quips as she and Dustin now join.

“Quarter!” Steve demands, nearly falling over as he tries to catch the one that she tosses him. When he catches it he quickly pushes the coin into the machine’s slot, bringing it to life. Music begins to play as the horse moves back and forth. It’s ominous, almost, in the mall’s dim lighting with no one else around.

Steve listens intently to the music, his face concentrated as if trying to understand something. As the music continues to play, you can’t help but feel that it sounds familiar. It reminds you of something, maybe a distant memory that you can’t quite recall. Wanting to understand more, you lean in close to the machine as well and mirror Steve’s actions. “The music…”

“They’ve both lost it,” Dustin mumbles when he sees that you’re also now analyzing a stupid carousel horse.

“Y/N, you helping little Stevie up onto the ride?” Robin laughs at her own joke, but you swat at her to shush her.

As the song plays once more, it finally clicks. Your mind flashes back to your conversation with him earlier in the break room as you kept replaying the Russian recording over and over again. It’s the same song. With a gasp, you throw your arms around Steve’s neck and begin kissing his face over and over again. “You’re a genius!”

Steve leans into your kisses and smiles at the praise, relieved that you don’t think he’s some idiot. Though his heart is beating wildly, he clears his throat and shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal. “I have my moments.”

“Care to share with the class, dinguses?”

Robin’s voice startles you, having momentarily forgotten where you were. Blushing, you pull away from Steve and clear your throat as well and act as if you weren’t just drowning the boy in kisses. “Listen to the song, guys.”

The seriousness of your tone causes Dustin to finally listen to the music as well. It only takes him a few seconds to piece together what you and Steve already have. “Holy shit. The music.”

“The music.” You confirm with pride, still incredibly amazed that Steve managed to remember such a small yet crucial detail. Since coming to befriend him, you’ve come to admire just how perceptive he is. Sure, he may not be a math whiz, but his emotional and creative intelligence leaves you in awe every time you see it. He’s smarter than anyone gives him credit for.

You wish his father saw this intelligence within him. Honestly, you wish more people did.

Dustin yanks his backpack off of his shoulder and starts rustling through it as he searches for something. When he finds his tape recorder, he starts to play the Russian transmission again. Hearing the audio and carousel play simultaneously side by side, it only confirms what Steve has long since figured out: it’s the same song.

Not being able to help yourself, you again kiss Steve’s cheek, giddy and proud of him. “You’re brilliant.”

He preens while Robin scrunches her nose, unsure why you’re all over the guy because of some song. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the exact same song on the recording.” Dustin explains to her.

“Maybe they have horses like this in Russia?”

You nod at her. “Maybe? We should look into who produces these machines, it could be our new lead.”

Steve shakes his head. “‘Indiana Flyer’? I don’t… I don’t think so.”

Something seems to shift within his voice and his face now twists with slight fear. He looks as if he’s realized something awful, and you feel your own joy from earlier vanish. A chill runs through you, the same awful feeling of dread that once overwhelmed you when Will originally disappeared now courses through you again.

“What is it?” You softly ask Steve, already bracing yourself for the worst.

He frowns at the apprehension in your voice and the worried crease between his brows makes you want to smooth away the concern. You know he doesn’t want to scare you, that he’s always trying to make things easier for you, so you tilt your head at him and nod slightly; you want him to tell you. Seeing your unspoken permission, he sighs. “This code, it… didn’t come from Russia. It came from here.”

You, Robin, and Dustin all look at one another. Fear settles over the group, you can feel its heavy weight like an old, familiar friend.

“Why does everything happen in Hawkins?” You say to no one in particular, still trying to process what this all means.

Dustin sighs and Steve drops his head.

Somehow, you always end up here.

–

Steve offers to drive you and Dustin home after seeing how shaken up you are by the latest Russian revelation. Tired and exhausted and terrified as usual, you accept.

It takes some trial and error, but eventually he and your brother manage to fit your bikes in the back of the BMW.

The drive to your house is filled with awkward banter between Steve and Dustin. You sit quietly in the passenger seat as the two boys try to make light of the situation, but not even their jokes can lessen the fear that creeps into the car; none of you are sure what to make of all of this.

When Steve pulls up to your house, all that you’ve managed to do the entire car ride is make a mental note to call Jonathan about everything later. It’s not your best plan, you wish that there was more you could do, but at the very least you know that he and Nancy can help.

Dustin scrambles out of the car, desperate to escape the tension within it. “See you tomorrow, Steve!” He calls behind him before slamming the car door shut.

You snort softly at your brother, finally moving to unbuckle your own seatbelt, before Steve places his hand on yours and stops you. He’s noticed how quiet you’ve been the entire car ride and the way your eyes have clouded over with fear. He hates it. “Do me a favor?”

“Yes?” You blink at him, unsure what he could want at this hour. It’s late and your mom expects you home soon.

“Leave your window unlocked for me.” He winks at you, trying to play coy, but you see the genuine concern for you hidden beneath his actions.

You can’t help but smile; it feels as if you can breathe again. “Steve Harrington, why should I leave my window unlocked for you?”

Your smile sends a warmth through Steve’s chest as relief washes over him. He’s doing something right. He’s gotten you to smile. “Because I’m planning on sneaking in after I park my car a few blocks down so your mom won’t see me.”

Though you know what he had been implying, hearing him say the words out loud causes a wild blush to burn across your cheeks and your stomach to swoop. Steve has never done this before, sneaking into your room like some lovestruck teenager late at night, it’s been the one boundary neither of you have crossed before.

“I suppose I can do that.” You say with an air of indifference, which Steve rolls his eyes at. “Strictly friendly, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

You giggle, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, and you exit the car after kissing the boy’s cheek. His face is warm against your lips and you’re coming to memorize the way your nose presses against the indent of his cheek bones.

When you get inside, your mom is knitting on the couch while Tews sits in her lap. She greets you with a smile and you compliment the scarf she’s making. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect for this winter, mom.”

She thanks you and wishes you a good night, noticing the bags underneath your eyes with slight concern. Inside your room, you quickly clear away the scattered pieces of paper on your desk and arrange your bedding so that it isn't strewn across the room. Steve has been in your room a million times now, and yet you can’t help but feel like tonight is different for some reason.

True to his word, within ten minutes Steve is knocking on your window. Hearing the quiet way his knuckles rap against the glass makes your heart jump in your stomach. Your body practically buzzes as you go to open the window, eager to have him close to you.

“Took you long enough,” you tease, opening the window wide enough for him to crawl through.

Steve pulls himself up with ease, his biceps strain against his Scoops Ahoy uniform, and you’ve never been more thankful for corporate policy. “Sorry, angel. Came here as fast as I could.”

You tug at his shirt and the two of you are falling into your bed. He lands on you with a soft thud and your body has long since become accustomed to his weight. As his body settles upon yours, it feels like coming home. You exhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his body, and Steve nuzzles his face into your neck and presses a gentle kiss there.

Everything swirling violently within your head now stills. The constant onslaught of worries and doubts finally quiets, and you know that despite it all, at least you have Steve.

“We’ll figure it out, ya know.” Steve’s lips move against the skin of your neck as he speaks, making you shiver slightly at the sensation.

“I know,” you start to play with his hair, needing something to do with your hands as you speak. “But… How many times are we going to keep doing this? Be the only people in Hawkins aware of what’s going on?”

Steve is silent for a few moments, allowing your words to sink in. He rolls them around in his head, he knows that the question isn’t one that comes from doubt of what he and the others are capable of. You don’t lack faith, you lack the willingness to constantly place the ones you love at risk. It just isn’t in your nature.

“As many times as needed.” He pauses again, unsure how to express to you his certainty that you’re capable of so much with all the love within you. If there’s anyone in this shitty town who is a real American hero, it’s you. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through these last two years, measly Russians are no big deal. We’ve fought worse monsters than Communism.”

You laugh, he always somehow gets you to laugh, and the sound is as angelic to Steve as your eyes are to him. He tightens his arms around you and relishes in the way your body presses against his, how he can feel your body move with every inhale of your laugh.

Then, slowly, your laughter dies down. Reality settles upon you once more and you want to believe Steve, you do, and you try to reassure yourself that he’s right… but something feels off about this. You can’t exactly articulate what it is, but there's this haze of uncertainty that you’ve never quite felt before; a vulnerability that leaves you feeling cold in his arms.

Sensing your fear rising up again, Steve tries to distract you by changing the subject. “Speaking of monsters, I recruited the little heathens to help with your birthday gift.”

The change of subject works. You raise your head and look at the teen. “You mean the party? You got them to help with a gift for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, Y/N.” Steve butts his head against your chin playfull. “I can make them listen to me… sometimes.”

You stare at him, knowing he’s full of shit. “Go on, tell me all about how you got them to listen to you.”

He tries to hold your gaze, refusing to back down, but he cracks after only a few seconds. “Okay, fine. It took a lot of pleading and I now owe a bunch of pre-teens money.”

A loud, full body laugh escapes your lips, and Steve laughs with you. The two of you hold one another and feel each other laugh, chests rising with glee. For a moment you feel okay again, forgetting everything else for now. You’re carefree in this moment, feeling like a little kid again, something only Steve can do to you.

When your laughs die down, you and Steve quietly lay together. No other words manage to find their way in the dark of your room, all that needs to be said has been laid to rest. His warm breaths hit the base of your neck as your nails scratch against his scalp. While you feel safe in his arms, there’s still so much that needs to be said.

Staring at the ceiling of your room, you see faint threads and strings and lines that you thought you put to rest that night in Jonathan’s room this winter. Now, they’re back again, only this time it’s a different boy within your arms. Something akin to doubt creeps in.

Steve already has all of you, you told him you’d wait, but what if you’ve missed your chance again with him like you did with Jonathan? When June began, Steve promised that you had all summer together. He calls you angel and tells you stories to fall asleep to on the phone, and yet the threads that glow above you taunt you.

You love him, you do, but you’re terrified that whatever the two of you uncover with the Russians will somehow pry you apart.

Just like Will’s disappearance had pried Jonathan away from you two years ago.

July looms over you and summer is going by faster than you thought it would. The promise of summer, one that usually leaves the nostalgic taste of honey on your tongue, now threatens to choke you.

As if having a mind of their own, your arms tighten even more around Steve, almost as if somehow you can shield what the two of you have from the dangers within Hawkins.

You hope it’s enough.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

[natbelovasblog]

Stalker.

PAIRINGS: AOS!Natasha Romanoff x CCTV!Fem Reader.

SUMMARY: While your Coworkers relish in their lunch breaks-you take to watching the security cameras. But while watching over live footage you see something, or rather someone, in the corner of the camera. Who are they and why are they here?

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, Budapest references??, and a slightly agitated Katness Barton.

A/N: I had gotten this idea from a day dream, and decided to write it out at 2:30/3am. :). It was going to be a series.. but I’m too inconsistent for that.. so.. if anyone wants to actually write a whole or short series on it, be my guest, but tag me bc I wanna read it!

I had visions of it being like flirty nat, and playing hard to get reader, so nat keeps stalking and popping up everywhere trying to get her to go on a date with her, then she finally does so nat will leave her alone and the rest is history.

… anyways. Hope you enjoy. AOS means agents of SHEILD.

“I’ve got eyes on the target” A slight Russian accent was heard through the comms.

“You act like we’re in a movie” The archer spoke up.

“Shut up Barton, I’m doing my job” Natasha vocalized her annoyance. She’d only been with the man for 7 days, but even with it being that short, he was still a pain in her ass.

“We’ve got movement! I’m going in. Cover me.” The spy was already gone before Barton could even speak.

“Nat, you can’t just run off like that! There’s a woman in there. Who knows how many more. We should’ve sat back and waited longer!” Clint had told her, climbing higher up the tree to get a good look in the building.

“Oh please, they don’t even know they’ve got a weaponized system in the building! There’s probably only 3 security guards and I’m sure they would’ve already seen us with how slow you walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the concern.” The red head rolled her eyes. Knocking on the door before taking down 2 security guards with her widow bites, after they’d basically invited her in.

“2 down, 1 too go” She spoke just before halting her steps. Peeking into the door on her right.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Clint’s voice appeared in her ear. Wondering why the recently departed widow had stopped

“Another one…A woman.” She paused. “Do you think she knows about the weapons?” She continued.

“Well it’s not like you can walk in there and talk to her about it, I’d say no. Take her out and let’s get this done, I have a dinner party to get too.” The archer replied. He had climbed down from the tree and slowly walked his way towards the 2 big double doors.

-

Your head snapped towards the cameras when you heard the alarm go off. Checking each one of them to see nothing but a glimpse of red hair and an arrow.

Sprinting down the hall, you’d reached the break room, opening the doors to see if one of your coworkers had set the alarm off. Only to find them all on the floor and one of them bleeding throughout their nose.

Quickly dialing security, you told them you needed backup.

-

“You idiot! Who doesn’t check the doors before going into a building, with a million dollar weaponized security system?!” Natasha was pissed. They’d waiting in a stupid vent for 7 days, an entire week to steal the systems hard drive. All for Clint to try and open the doors at 12am. Setting off all the alarms.

“In my defense, there was no more people to let me in since you’d knocked them all out. And I couldn’t get the other one to let me in because you were too busy drooling all over her.” Clint threw his arrows back into the vent, settling down just in time to watch the security guards rush past them.

“I wasn’t drooling over her, I just thought maybe she knew something. She didn’t even look like a security guard.” Natasha thinks back to when she’d seen you twirl around in the spinny chair.

“Oh let me guess, she looked like a princess?” The Barton man whispered.

Yeah..

Yeah, she did.

-

“I saw a flash of red hair, and then what looked like an arrow.. I don’t know if it was an arrow tho.. I mean. Who carry’s around arrows anymore?” You questioned out loud to your boss.

“The boy, Katness Everdeen from the avengers does!” Mike, a coworker had joked. Making the others laugh.

“This isn’t a time to joke. It’s serious. Someone tried to get into the building and your joking around? Are you fucking kidding me?” Your boss, Chris yelled. Making the others stop laughing.

“Come on man, clearly no one got inside the building, if they did. We’d have seen. We do have some of the best security cameras.” Mike stood up, trying to calm Chris down.

“Whatever, get back to work. See if you can find anything” Chris walked out.

“We’ve check the cameras over and over again. We didn’t see anything!” Jake, another coworker yelled out the door.

“Check again!” Chris replied.

You did feel a presence watching you.. but maybe that was just your imagination.. right? I mean Mike was right. There was absolutely nothing on the cameras. Maybe you just needed some sleep.

[sixosix]

Pls write basketball player girlfail childe asking reader to show up to his competition and he yells out “this ones for you”’only to miss like the pathetic loser he is and get benched for the rest of the gamethx

warnings wc 1.2k feminine russian petname (printsessa) used once (1), THIS IS A BIT OF A MESS IM SORRY ELLIE, second-hand embarrassment btw…

“I said please...”

Laughing, you push his face away with your palm, Childe’s cheek squished against it. “What are you, five? Please won’t get you anywhere.” The way he said it, dragged out and whiny, was entertaining, though.

He draws you closer by encircling your waist with his arm. “School year’s ending, won’t you at least give me this one last dance?”

“It would’ve been sweet if you were asking me out for prom instead of your basketball competition.”

“But our situation makes it even more romantic,” Childe argues, well, childishly. He pouts and brings his face within inches of yours, drowning your gaze in a mesmerizing shade of hauntingly beautiful blue.

“We don’t have a situation.”

“Yes we do, printsessa. There’s no one here to hide your undying love for me. Come to my game to make it up to me?”

He looks stupid in all his long-limbed glory, as he bends down and gazes up at you, his lower lip protruding. But you've always had a weakness for his endearing puppy-dog eyes. They have a way of working their magic, and he's well aware of it.

“We’ll see what happens.”

Childe lights up, pulling away just to give you kisses all over the back of your palm. “Yes, yes. You won't regret a thing, I promise.” You haven’t even said a concrete yes, though he’d probably take anything that isn’t outright ‘no’.

You suppose this means you have a basketball game to attend tomorrow.

“Wear my jersey?”

“You’re pushing it.”

“For real? You’re not joking around? No, wait, don’t tell me—you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Xiao’s jaw ticks, far from amused, as the boy in front of him grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him back and forth like a snowglobe. Childe would find his piercing glare terrifying if he weren’t a whole head shorter than him. “Do I look like I have time to entertain and joke around with you, Tartaglia? See for yourself. Second row, black jacket.”

Childe’s grin splits across his face like he’s never had to express any other emotion.

Xiao stares at him warily, as one would to a ticking time bomb. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. I don’t like that look on your face.”

Childe’s expression turns serious, his dull eyes drilling daggers to the ground. “We will win. I’ll make sure of it, buddy. Wanna know why? I have a plan, and I’ll share it with the team so I can win this competition and Y/N falls in love with me and everything falls into pl— Hey, why are you leaving?”

“Kunikuzushi.” You don’t bother hiding the look of surprise on your face as you spot him on the second row of the courtside seats. “I thought you were one of the players.”

Scaramouche’s face crinkles in disgust at even the implications that came along with it. “I’d rather not participate in anything involving Childe.”

A laugh bubbles out of you as you settle in on the seat on his left. “And here I thought he said you were friends.”

“He’s presumptuous like that,” Scaramouche sniffs, tipping his chin high. 

“And secretive. I didn’t know he played basketball…”

“Are you joking?” At your bewildered expression, Scaramouche’s brow arches in disbelief. “You don’t know. Childe only started playing because you said you might have a crush on one of the varsity players.”

“What? I just I might. And what does that— Oh, no.”

“Yes. You idiot.”

“I didn’t think his crush was this serious,” you murmur, sinking further into your seat. It might be butterflies, it might be mortification.

The whistle blows; the players settle in position. Your eyes never stray from Childe’s figure, even for a second. (He does look good in his basketball jersey.)

“Crush? Don’t make me laugh. You pair act like you’re on your honeymoon every time I see you.”

Wisely deciding to change the subject because arguing with Scaramouche is subjecting yourself to eventual loss, you wonder aloud, “How’d they even allow him to play? He doesn’t know how to aim for shit.”

Scaramouche smirks. “Probably because of his connections. He’s an asshole like that.”

“Yeah.” That makes sense. You both lapse into silence as the game proceeds.

Childe is doing better than you expected. Even Scaramouche looks vaguely impressed.

“I guess he could play after all,” you comment, whistling lowly as Childe skillfully snatches the ball and maneuvers across the field like he’s a stream of water. You’re briefly entranced by the way he grins and a bead of sweat rolls down from his chin.

The ball is in his hands. You shuffle to the edge of your seat.

Scaramouche leans to rest his elbows on his knees. “What’s he doing?” You can’t tell if he’s invested because he’s rooting for him or if he’s waiting for something bad to happen, because he hates Childe like that.

Childe comes to a stop at a specific distance, cradling the ball against his chest. His teammates do the same, creating enough confusion among the opposing players to provide him with an opportunity to attempt what would generally be considered a violation.

Childe’s eyes easily find yours. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s pinned your location down beforehand or if it’s the magnetic force that’s pulling you to him no matter where you try to look. He grins, all boyish charm that makes everyone oblivious that they’re dealing with a devil in the body of a ginger swoon.

“This one’s for you, babe!” he exclaims, pointing at you with a wild grin, prompting the audience to glance at you in bewilderment. Stupidly, your heart flutters at the fact that he didn’t forget you were watching.

He jumps, his body and arms arching in a graceful form. You swear there’s a spotlight framing his entire body at the moment. Childe flicks his wrist; the ball flies off of his grasp.

And the ball also misses entirely.

A stunned silence washes over the court, broken only by Scaramouche later bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Oh, no,” you say, hiding your face in your palms. Xiao, Childe’s teammate, is seen exiting the field.

“Oh my—oh my fuc—king go—od,” Scaramouche wheezes in between breaths, his knees curled up to his chest.

“It’s really not that funny,” you weakly defend, mostly because your embarrassment is overpowering the part of you wanting to join Scaramouche.

However, your words only prompt Scaramouche into laughing harder, tears in his eyes and his breaths coming in short. You’ve never seen him laugh this hard before.

Below, Childe doesn’t even look humiliated. He stares at the ball rolling away with a frown, as if it’s at fault for his god-awful aim.

One of the players—his enemy—pats him on the back. “Hey, man, you can try again if you want to…”

Childe huffs, turning away. “I want a fair one. It’s not worth anything if you just give it to me.” What a miracle he still has his pride after that.

Childe gets benched, pouting in the sidelines. They did win, but it’s not because of Childe, like he told Xiao would happen—not that Xiao was there to see it. Not even a kicked puppy could compare to how pathetic he’s looking. A wet, crumpled paper might be more accurate.

“Don’t tell me you’re into dedicated failure? You into that?”

You pat Scaramouche’s back twice in response. “He’s still cute, unfortunately.” There might just be something wrong with you. “I’m going to go to him.”

“Weirdo,” Scaramouche shoots back, watching as you leave. “No wonder why you and Childe are perfect for each other.”

[blue-little-angel]

Yooo, cloud! How are you doing? I hope well!

I was never a Fyozai shipper until I read your fics (OH MAH GAWWWD-) You've converted me LMAOO. Can I please request a fic of lee!Fyodor ler! Dazai (let's just assume the two aren't trying to kill each other, AU time baby XD). Honestly, just Dazai taking full advantage of the fact that he's the only one able to safely touch Fyodor by wreaking him until he's in happy tears. And Dazai's a bish, canonically, he is a bastard, so I can see him letting Fyodor go scramble away for like- 2 seconds before just pulling him back into his lap and going at it again. Honestly, reading BSD, I just need some fluff to recover XD. Feel free to decline and you have an awesome day!

HOPE YOUR DAY IS AS GREAT AS YOU ARE<3

NO WAY-

OhmygodNOWAY👹

Glad I made you appreciate a popular ship though, you can find a lot of stuff about those two

Also glad someone also sees Dazai as a bitchy bastard lmao

Fandom: BSD

Ler: Dazai Osamu (mention of lee!Dazai at the end)

Lee: Fyodor Dostoevsky (mention of ler!

Fyodor at the end)

Warning(s): tickling. Dazai and Fyodor are a whole Tw on their own-

Enjoy<3333

Dazai sighed dramatically as he flopped onto the couch in his and Fyodor's shared apartment. "Fyoooodooooor! DARLIIIIIIING??" he called in an exaggerated whine walking to the unfortunate man. "I'm boooored! Entertain me!"

Yes, truly an unfortunate man, he was, Fyodor peered at him from the corner, eyebrows furrowed in irritation below his disheveled purple bangs. "Must you be so loud?" he griped. "Some of us are trying to read."

Dazai grinned mischievously. "Aww, don't be like that dear. You know you love it when I annoy you~" Before Fyodor could respond, Dazai whipped out his phone. "Ooh, let's take a selfie! You look adorable right now~"

"No."

Undeterred, Dazai bounded over and flung an arm around Fyodor's shoulders, pressing their cheeks together as he held up the phone with his other hand. "Say cheese!"

Fyodor's eye twitched. "Dazai, I swear if you don't get off me this instant..."

The shutter clicked. "Too late! Now everyone can see how cute my grumpy boyfriend is." Dazai pulled back to admire his handiwork, only to yelp as a book suddenly flew at his head. He ducked just in time, cackling. "Missed me!"

"what a child" Fyodor huffed. Letting the suicidal stupidly pretty idiot (the rat's words) settle next to him.

Dazai sighed contentedly as he ran his fingers through Fyodor's soft hair, earning a rare purr of approval from the usually stoic man. "You're just even more adorable when you're not trying to kill me," he cooed, smirking when Fyodor half-heartedly swatted his hand away.

"Don't get cocky," Fyodor muttered, trying in vain to disguise the faint flush rising on his pale cheeks. He should have known better than to let his guard down around Dazai by this point.

As if on cue, Dazai's mischievous smirk widened. Before Fyodor could react, quick as a snake, Dazai jabbed his fingers into Fyodor's side. "Tickle attack!"

Fyodor yelped, nearly leaping out of his skin as surprised laughter burst unwillingly from his lips. "Dazai, no - ah! Stop!" He squirmed, swatting ineffectively at Dazai's wriggling fingers, but the hyperactive man had him pinned. The Russian merely thought about using his ability, but against Dazai, it was useless to even try and threaten.

"Aww, but your laugh is just too pretty!" Dazai cooed, mercilessly targeting Fyodor's most sensitive spots. Fyodor gasped for breath between bouts of hysterical giggles, tears already beading at the corners of his eyes.

Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, Dazai finally showed mercy and pulled back, sighing happily as Fyodor collapsed against the couch, flushed and panting. "There, don't you feel better now?"

"No more." he glared

"Fine, no more" the other smirked

No sooner had Fyodor stumbled away, gasping for breath, than Dazai pounced again, dragging him back into place. "Psych! I lied~" He dug his nails playfully into Fyodor's sides, grinning at the hysterical squeaks it elicited.

Yes, Dazai was absolutely ruthless in his quest to reduce Fyodor to a crying, giggling mess. But Fyodor found, to his mingled joy and dismay, that he didn't really mind one bit.

"Hehe, as ticklish as a little mouse~"

That was the last straw. With enough determination forced out of mingled frustration and embarrassment, Fyodor managed to blow a raspberry near his lover's collarbone, getting the tickly upper hand on Data who darting for the living room entrance in retreat. But Fyodor managed to be surprisingly faster- his arm shot out, wrapping around Dazai's slender waist to yank him unceremoniously back

"you were saying?"

"Let me go!" Dazai squawked, writhing like a panicked cat. But Fyodor made it his mission to get his revenge, and it wasn't like Fyodor to fail a mission

[estrellami-1]

Steddie Week 2023

May 26 Prompt: Together/Established Relationship

Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 6, Day 7

@steddie-week

Steve takes a shaky breath as he watches the news on TV. The kids are safe, Robin’s safe, Eddie-

Eddie’s trailer, in the background.

Eddie’s living room, a crime scene.

The kids are safe, Robin’s safe, but Eddie-

“Steve!” Dustin yells as he bursts into Family Video. “How many phones do you have?”

“What?” Steve asks, finally tearing his eyes from the TV. “Why?”

Dustin vaults over the counter, ignoring Steve and Robin’s warnings against doing that very thing. “Dude, the tapes,” Steve groans.

“Dingus, control your child,” Robin jokes, and Steve throws her a look.

“If I could, I would.”

Dustin waves his hands in front of them. “Hello! Emergency? Phones? How many?”

“Christ, kid, why?” Steve asks again.

Dustin huffs like Steve’s being an idiot. “Because. My friend Eddie’s missing.” He catches sight of the TV and gestures at it. “See? He’s not a murderer, though. I have a list of his friends, acquaintances, whatever.”

Steve rolls his eyes, grabs at the list, scans it. Smiles when he realizes exactly where his boyfriend must’ve gone. “No need,” he says, shoving the list back at Dustin. “Robin, you coming?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she promises, ruffling Dustin’s hair through his hat. “C’mon, squirt.”

Dustin splutters. “Is anyone gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“Language, dude,” Steve chides. “We’re gonna find Eddie. I know where he is.”

“How-”

“Shotgun!” Robin yells, racing to the passenger side of the car and tugging twice on the handle.

Steve levels an unimpressed eyebrow on her. “What are you, twelve?” She sticks her tongue out at him. “Oh, very mature.”

He unlocks the doors and they all pile in. “Buckle up,” he says, and peels out of the parking lot.

The drive to Reefer Rick’s is usually twenty minutes.

Steve makes it in twelve.

He’s out of the car before it’s settled, running past the house to the boat shed. “Eds?” He asks. “You here? It’s Steve, Robin, and Dustin. Just us, I swear, you’re safe, Eds.”

Dustin hurries up, barging ahead into the building. “Eddie? Are you in here?”

Steve sees a tarp move and makes a split-second decision. “Dustin, you and Robin go check the house, okay? I’ll stay out here and keep looking, but it doesn’t look like he’s here.”

“Okay,” Dustin agrees, running off with Robin in tow.

Steve eases into the boathouse, lets the door shut behind him. “The door’s closed, baby. Just you and me. I know you’re under the tarp. Are you gonna come out?”

Silence, then the quietest he’s ever heard his boyfriend, “No.”

“Can you tell me why not?”

“They think I killed her.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I know you, Eds, I know you wouldn’t do that. I’m here for you, I’m here to help you.”

“How?”

“Well, a wise man once said a good hug can fix most your problems.”

The tarp shivers. A silent laugh. “Don’t let Wayne hear you. He’ll get a big head.”

“He deserves it. He’s right.”

Silence for another minute, then the tarp shifts, exposing Eddie’s face. “Stevie?”

Steve smiles softly. “Hey, Eds. You ready to come out?”

“I think I’m going crazy,” Eddie admits.

Steve can’t help the chuckle. “I know. You’re not, if it helps. Real life is just this crazy sometimes.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This is voodoo-level shit, Stevie. I’m scared.”

Steve’s heart breaks. “I know, baby. I know. And I know it might be hard to believe, but I’ve been through this before.” He edged closer to the boat, sits down right at the edge so they’re face-to-face. “Remember Starcourt?”

“The earthquake that stunk of government?”

Steve nods. “Russians. Among other things. The thing that’s behind all of this… we’ve fought him before. We hurt him, really bad, last time, but didn’t manage to kill him. And now he’s back. But we’re more prepared this time, I swear. We’re gonna be fine.” He frames Eddie’s face in his hands. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you,” he says, so seriously his voice breaks.

Eddie’s eyes fill with tears. “I know,” he whispers. “And that’s what scares me. I don’t want to do this without you. And if you keep jumping in front of everyone-”

“Hey,” Steve says, shaking Eddie’s head a little. “I’ve got you now. I’m not gonna do that. But I’m not gonna let you do that, either, you hear me? We’re gonna get through this. Together.”

“Together,” Eddie breathes, nodding. He clambers out of the boat and into Steve’s lap, tucking his face in Steve’s neck. “Together,” he mumbles again, and it feels like a tattoo on Steve’s neck.

The door to the boathouse creaks open, revealing Dustin. “What the fuck,” he says, judging them with his eyebrows.

Steve judges him right back. “What?”

Dustin waves a hand at them. “This? How do you know each other?”

“We’re boyfriends,” Steve says, apropos of nothing. “We’ve known each other for years, though.”

Dustin splutters. “But- you- Nancy! And Robin!”

“I did date Nancy for a while,” Steve agrees. “Came running to Eddie when she broke my heart. He put it back together.”

“Aww, Stevie,” Eddie coos teasingly, still hiding. Steve pokes his ribs.

“And I’m a lesbian,” Robin says, knocking Dustin’s hat over his eyes. “Also, dude, you’ve gotta stop trying to get people together.”

Dustin blinks. “I- whatever. Eddie. We know you didn’t kill Chrissy.”

“You don’t know that,” Eddie says petulantly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Quit being contrary.”

“You quit being contrary.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

Eddie shrugs. “Still kinda freaking out.”

Steve sighs, hugs Eddie tighter. “I know. I’m sorry. We know you didn’t kill Chrissy, Eds, but as long as the general public thinks you did, we’ve gotta keep you out of sight.”

Eddie looks at Steve pleadingly. “Your place?”

Steve smiles at him. “Yeah, we can go to mine.” He turns to Dustin. “Get everyone on the walkies. Tell them to meet at mine in fifteen minutes. Code red.”

Dustin nods and runs back to the car.

“Hey,” Robin says, tilting her head to meet Eddie’s eye. She smiles when they lock gazes. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Not sure I am, Birdie, but thanks.”

They stand and make their way to the car.

Together.

[disgustingtwitches]

got tagged by the one and only @stellewriites for WIP Wednesday (it is not Wednesday anymore, IDC, take it) so uh,. Here's my Nikto/bimbo!reader except bimbo!reader is only aesthetically a bimbo if uh you feel me.

This is picking up from the middle of the first part:

---

He approaches slowly, making sure you can see him like you are some wild horse that'd take off if he moved too fast.

“How could I turn down such a gentleman?”

You blink coyly and take on the most dulcet tone. He blinks oddly, kind of like a frog. It's endearing in a strange way. He points to the chair next to you; you nod, giving him your blessing.

He settles into the chair, and you watch as he methodically tugs at his mask, then sleeves, and then the hem of his hoodie. You've seen the whole ‘I'm not like other men’ act, but this was different. He tried to make himself smaller, his tone wasn't lined with a hint of deceit or arrogance. It would be somewhat refreshing if you didn't know it was all a game.

“Your friends send you my way?”

You ask softly, trying to sound as innocent as possible,

“Really nice of them to get me my drinks.”

You raise your glass while he makes a sound that's kind of wheezy and raspy. You think that's a laugh, but aren't too sure.

“Your company is coveted around here it seems.”

You raise an eyebrow,

“What do you mean?”

He stares for a beat too long before answering,

“These men would happily empty their wallets just to stand next to you.”

You take in the words, trying not to break the character of a clueless barfly,

“You think so? I just thought they were being nice.”

You notice he doesn't blink a lot; he just stares at you. Taking you in. Doesn't ogle, just looks. Was this man gonna buy you a drink or what?

“Natalia.”

He finally says. You cock your head,

“Huh?”

“Or is it Santana? You seem to have many names, according to my friends.”

His voice wasn't accusatory. Actually, you think you see a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“I'd like to call you Kotyonok tonight if that pleases you.”

You can't help but scrunch your nose for a second, trying to remember the few Russian words you know. He then points to where your hands rest.

“Your nails. They are like a cat.”

Right, that's the word you were looking for. You smile and put your hand out to show off your set.

“Thanks! Just got them done!”

You wiggle your fingers while he leans over, so close to your hand you can feel his breath tickle your skin.

“Pretty.”

Was all that came from him before he pulled away. You wrap your fingers daintily around the two tiny straws in your mixed drink and take a sip while looking straight at him. You can see his jaw tense through the fabric. A small smile dances across your lips,

“At least you appreciate them. Your friend told me they were too long last week.”

“He is…an idiot.”

You notice how his breath catches when you laugh at that. You both relax, and the tension dissipates when he realizes you're comfortable with his company. You study him for a moment before turning to him,

“You still have that bet going?”

He scans your face, and suddenly, you think you've made a mistake.

“I told them you understood, they didn't want to believe.”

He looks around before leaning towards you and whispering,

“Our little secret, hm?”

You nod and briefly get a whiff of whatever he's wearing. You didn't take him as a man who wore cologne, but whatever he had on was delicious. It was woody, smoky, leathery, with a warm spice that you couldn't quite put your finger on—nothing like whatever cheap or banal scents his buddies wore. You're pretty sure that König and Krueger shared the same cologne you loathe: Dior Sauvage. What a God awful cologne-

“Kotyonok is a good name for you.”

His voice snaps you back to reality. You apparently were spacing out and looking right at him the whole time. He seemed to enjoy that though. You clear your throat,

“Because of my nails?”

“Yes, and you are clever. I like clever.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as he cocks his head.

“Gonna get the lady a drink?”

John's voice cuts in, reminding you you're not alone with your new barmate. Your new barmate's gaze never shifts, content to take in your face for eternity it seems.

[panchulien]

Bruvski I just fucking realized your main was moltage /dead anywho back to the regularly scheduled fuckery!!!

Idea one) Nik watching Price curse and swear as he struggles to wrap presents for his boys (read kids) and his sweet daughter Farah (read daughter we all know where she stands) and slapping patch work all over the gaps of the presents to cover gaps. Far to much effort that won't last more then a minute when the men get their hands on it. Not to mention the utter TIME devoted to find the perfect gift for his men.

Ghost, A shiny Charmeleon card just to fuck with the man (I saw the sloppy head post about Charizard) last year was a Charmander. As well as a new oil for the mans equipment. He always was fond of the Egyptian brands. Smoother than silk and fires like a dream.

Gaz, sweet baby boy Gaz the second favorite always, A new cap since he loses his all the time. As well as a vintage Scotch older than him. Got a love for it after joining Nik and Price for late night drinks after helping plan ops. And a new harness, his dumb ass isn't falling out of a helicopter again. And he's not going to forget about it dammit!

Soap, a British flag blanket, hands down. Need to see the bloke froth and bark and grumble before he gets to the good presents. Only if he's a good boy though. The good stuff being, an expensive set of colored charcoals for the ADHD mutt. And a box of bandaids that labels him as an 'idiot, stupid, crybaby' for all the times he gets hurt. And, reluctantly, and a rather poor decision on Prices part. Silk boxers with Scotland's flag on the ass. It takes a stick and threatening to shoot the man for him to not to drop his pants then and there to put them on. Not this Christmas MacTavish!!

Farah, the beautiful best daughter, and sassy brat. Does not get a gag gift, last time Soap and Gaz almost got shot for trying to give her Russian candies. No, Farah gets a new scarf, gun oil like Ghost, she likes a gun with nice performance. This one from Germany. Germany, not Austria I promise. No one brings up Austria. And a small box of chocolates from France. Sweet tooth courtesy of Kate, and enough to take back and share with her friends.

Nik, the man will take everything with grace and remembers to pay it forward, with interest 😉. But in reality, what is there to get a man who buys anything and everything he wants on a whim. Answer, anything because it's the thought he cares for more.

Has the drawings and art Soap has gifted him framed on his walls at home. And all the safe houses he lends the men, his favorite is a small sketch of Nik and Price sleeping while leaning on each other. kept over his heart and easily his favourite.

A dark burgundy Sherpa coat for his trips from Gaz. The man is all class, and will and has shown it on numerous occasions.

And Ghost? Claws up the oldest vintage Vodka and Kvas no longer in circulation. Along with a few notes on some... Rats, so to speak and other fun things. But that's between Nik and Ghost.

It's always agonizing trying to buy for Nik, so Price has given up and learned the best method of buying something for the man. Is the moment he sees something and it makes him think of the man? BUY IT. It's become a game between the two, watching as Nik slowly rolls the item between his large warm hands. A thoughtful and warm look on his face as he mulls over what memory such an item had triggered. The boys being quiet and listening, it's rare to hear Nik speak with such a fond and soft voice. Like a bear settled in to hibernate, half asleep and cheeks red from the liquor.

His favorite? A bar of chocolate, not even made anymore. Rebranded six times before they finally shut down. Only two bites taken out of it and stashed away in a lockbox with his important trinkets such as his grandmums wedding ring. His old dog tags. And a broken knife a fallen comrade had left behind.

This year? A small pair of red mittens, not fitting anyone's hands. But to remind the time the two men had accidentally ran into each other when Nik was calming down a lost little girl. Helping fix her warm mittens on her hands before he looked up and caught Prices gaze. It was easy enough to find the little girls family. But that brief moment, walking around with the little girl on Niks shoulders to try and spot her family. A hand on her back so she didn't fall from Price. It was oddly domestic and something they held close to the heart.

So much I'll have to do a part two in a bit after breakfast 😭 enjoy the word vomit my dear 💖 still gonna be my pan pan 😤

liaaa this is insane. you spoil me. 😭🫶 also yes the main is moltage, where i post about my silly penguin show hehe <33

Price carefully picking every single gift (most time went for Soaps) only to butcher the packaging ahaha. Nikolai is just watching with a smile as the captain swears his ass off at the messed up wrappers.

I love the ideas for gifts also! Ghost and Farah's fit so well (shoutout to Jack for the Pokemon idea even though I didn't understand much of it. It's so sweet hehe)

Gaz too, (although he's gonna roll his eyes at the harness. ''IT WAS ONE TIME, NIK!🙄'' ''Captains idea actually. 😁'') Him joining Nik and Price for drinks is so sweet. Would love to hear what kinda conversation would go around between them. Mostly Nik and Price telling stories of their early days... which Gaz would roll his eyes like ''You guys sound more insufferable than Ghost and Soap.'' earning a belly laugh from Nik and a roll of eyes from John.

Soap is gonna... have a fun time opening those presents lmaooo love that also. Bet his ass had it coming with what gifted people in return.

And Nik's part oughghhg😭 the man cherishes every little thing. Every memory he had with the TF141. And John getting him something because ''it reminded me of you'' ? Are those tears in Nik's eyes? Nope. Just allergies, okay. :)

Nik, ya big softie. I love him so much. Thank you for this Lia! Enjoy your breakfast, I would love to hear a part 2. <3

[violetflowerswrites]

My Love

Catherine the Great x Leo Voronsky

Summary: Catherine vents out her frustrations about the Russian nobility on her lover, Leo. Pure smut, very little plot, no spoilers. Season 1 of The Great.

Disclaimer: gratuitous swearing, many many F bombs, very crude sexual humor, cannon jokes about beastiality, excessive drinking, consensual oral sex (male and female receiving), p in v sex

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: I’m a huge fan of historical fiction—the satire and sarcasm in this show is totally my vibe. But I also love how intimate it can get! I love Leo and Catherine and literally cried after I finished season one. Enjoy!

…

“Fucking idiots!”

Catherine the (not yet) Great storms into Leo’s apartment. The light blue fabric of her heavy skirts almost snags the corner of an armchair as she angrily sweeps by.

Leo leans back on a lounge chaise, sketchbook in hand. He wordlessly lifts up a clear glass of vodka that Catherine immediately snatches out of his hand in her tirade about the room.

She gulps the drink in one go and blindly throws the glass in the direction of the tree in the corner of Leo’s quarters. It shatters with a delicate crackle of broken glass.

“I am not a pretty, empty headed jewel for them to jape at as they please. I am a force to be reckoned with!” Catherine shouts, her cheeks and eyes alike inflamed with indignation.

“Shall I propose a toast?” Leo has already produced another glass to replace the one she destroyed.

“You may.” Catherine flops down with an audible exhale of air, still seething in frustration.

“Fuck the court.”

“HAH! Fuck the court indeed.”

They raise their glasses and clink them before unceremoniously shooting back the hard liquor.

“Huzzah!” Catherine shouts sarcastically.

Leo continues sketching a cartoon of Catherine with a large speech bubble that says “Fuck the court!” A quiet giggle escapes his soft lips.

“And what, pray tell, amuses my dear lover?” She settles into the soft cushions of her armchair, the drink and the exertion from her rant relaxing her long, graceful limbs.

“I was just thinking about how you used to be terrified of swearing, thinking us Russians a crude and improper people—which we are, mind you—and yet…”

“And yet here I am, a true Russian, swearing in every sentence I utter.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Leo then shows Catherine his cartoon and they dissolve in a fit of giggles.

“You get it now, my love. The world we live in is absolutely fucked so why not laugh a little. I don’t like to see you so upset. Although I have to admit, it does make me wonder…”

“About what?”

“I wonder if you would like to take your frustration out on me? Sexually?” Leo grins at Catherine, eyes twinkling through his mess of dark curls.

“You’re a naughty boy!” She gasps, blushing. The rosyness of her cheeks contrasts prettily with her ivory skin.

“Ooo do tell me more,” Leo winks and offers a hand.

Catherine takes it, and kisses his olive-skinned knuckles.

“My Lord.”

“Empress.”

“Are you inviting me to your bed?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I am inviting you to fuck me, Empress.”

Catherine barks out an unladylike laugh and covers her mouth in surprise at the ugly sound. It makes Leo look at her in amusement all the more.

She clears her throat to recover. “I accept your invitation.” Catherine bends down in a formal curtsy. “Undress me.”

Leo proceeds to undo the laces of the empress’ dress, gently pulling apart the ribbons at the back. He presses his soft lips to the back of her neck, sending a slight shiver down her spine, before turning Catherine around to unbutton the frock. Her breath quickens as Leo’s mere proximity to her milky white bosom makes her skin flush an aroused pink, a phenomenon that does not go unnoticed.

“Empress?” Leo whispers against her chest, his eyes glued to his lover’s beautiful body.

“Yes?” She responds breathlessly.

“Do I have permission to touch you?”

“If you do not touch me this instant, I may have to go to the stables and fuck a horse like all those fools think I did.”

“Then I shall be quite jealous of the noble steed you deem worthy of your pussy.”

The two of them share a wry smile at the ridiculousness of their conversation. But, the moment Leo’s lips press hot, tender kisses to her chest, Catherine’s expression morphs into a pleased moan of desire.

His affections continue across her supple skin as he pulls apart her clothing, revealing her gorgeous feminine form to him once again. Somehow, Catherine’s hands have already removed his tunic and they are now exploring every inch of his handsome chest. She runs her fingers down his curly chest hair, leaving behind the slightest of tingles everywhere she moves. Leo’s breath quickly comes in pants as her touch alights his skin, and his heart, and of course, his cock, on fire.

“Shall we try something?” Leo suggests, an amused smirk barely hiding just how aroused he is.

“What’s that?”

“Come here,” Leo gestures for Catherine to get on top of him as he lies on the bed, and she does, quickly pressing kisses to his soft lips. “Now, turn around.”

“What?”

“Let me taste your pussy, and you can lick my cock. A win-win, don’t you think?”

“Leo, that's quite—oh!” Her sentence is cut off with a gasp, followed by a pleasured groan. Her lover's mouth is now planted firmly inside her pink folds. His chin glistens with her slickness in seconds.

“You were saying, my love?” Leo lifts his head out of her cunt with a wet noise. Catherine slowly loosens her hold on the sheets that she didn’t even know she was gripping with white knuckles.

“Never mind. You may continue.” She acquiesces quickly, her gaze now locked onto the bouncing cock before her. She has only sucked him a few times, thinking it not much to look at, much less taste, but she felt it is only fair that he gets what he’s giving.

So, Catherine widens her jaw and attempts to swallow the thick log down her gullet.

And proceeds to gag immediately.

Leo pauses at once and calls out, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, do not worry!” Her voice betrays some embarrassment.

Leo realizes that she’s trying so hard to please him and it makes his heart melt in love for her all the more. “You don’t have to—“

“Stop. I want to. Just let me try at my own pace.”

Catherine ducks her head down, lips pressing kisses to the pink tip of his cock, the engorged shaft and its criss cross of veins, the heavy ballsack dangling underneath.

Men are truly an odd creature, what with this uncomfortable thing dangling about in their trousers.

Another moan rips her out of her musings, her mind forgetting for a moment that Leo is eating out her pussy as if it is a delicious piece of fruit, perhaps his favorite peaches.

So she relaxes herself and tries again, slowly accepting his length into her mouth, her tongue lapping up the underside of the shaft. A strong, salty smell fills her nostrils as she inhales, trying to suppress her gag reflex.

She hears a guttural groan escape her lover's lips, somewhat muffled by her soft core, but clearly a sound of pleasure nonetheless. Encouraged, she proceeds to suck his cock in more, her cheeks hollowing out as she adds pressure on his member.

Leo gasps and groans underneath her, his hips thrusting upward automatically, chasing his high. In response, Catherine spreads her thighs and settles on top of Leo’s face even more, letting his hot breath tickle her most intimate regions, and his tongue appreciatively pries apart the petals of her pussy.

And then, he finds her pearl.

In seconds, Catherine releases his cock and comes with a scream, her eyes screwed shut and her hands clawing at the bedspread. Her breath comes in messy gasps as her body shudders with the aftershocks of orgasm.

Leo calmly sits up as she crumples into a spent heap on the mattress.

“Well, that was nice.” He quips nonchalantly.

“More.” The word barely audible through her heady pants.

“What was that?” Leo smiles, his own breath unsteady, betraying how aroused he is behind his causal grin.

“I need more.” Catherine locks eyes with him fiercely, like a lioness staring down her prey.

“Of course.”

Catherine climbs atop his lap, his still erect cock pressed against her soft belly, and she devours her lover’s mouth ferociously. They exchange tongue and saliva and breath in a duel of passion, their lips interlocking as if they could never kiss each other again.

Catherine breaks for air first, her tender breasts rising and falling rapidly. Leo seizes the opportunity to suck her sensitive pink nipples into his hot mouth, eliciting a shout from her lips.

“Oh god—!”

“God should probably turn his eyes away right now, don’t you think?”

“Leo—mmph!— you never stop joking, do you?”

“I’m just here for the ride,” he laughs and Catherine joins him, her voice ringing across the room.

“Shall I, then?”

“With what?”

“Ride you.”

“If it pleases you, Empress.”

Catherine squeals with unbridled enthusiasm and quickly aims Leo’s cock straight for her pussy. She smiles into another kiss at the same time she sinks onto his length.

“Mmph!”

Leo’s moan is swallowed by her lips, just as her cunt swallows his cock. Her sunlight blonde hair cascades in waves around their faces, as if a private curtain hides the two of them from the harsh reality of the world around them. Her warm, wet inner walls squeeze him as he grips the flesh of her hips in ecstasy. In response, Catherine locks her hands behind his neck and into his dark curls and starts to bounce her plush ass onto his lap.

“Oh! Oh! Yes!” Her voice comes out in high-pitched yelps that can surely be heard by the guards standing outside their doors.

To his credit, Leo is no quiet lover either. His relentless groans reveal just how much he enjoys being ridden by the Empress of Russia.

She pauses to catch her breath, rolling so that her clit rubs against his hard body. Leo marvels at her shameless chase of carnal joy, and quickly sucks his fingers wet and finds her sensitive nub between their connected bodies.

“Leo!” Catherine grits out his name and catches his hand, her fingernails digging into his wrist. His mind goes wild with equal parts pleasure and pain and he doubles down, rubbing even faster.

He thrusts upward to match her eager rhythm, which only serves to make Catherine scream louder.

“Fuck!”

“Yes, my love! Give it to me!” Leo encourages, his girth stretching her deliciously. She can feel him bottoming out, his length completely disappearing inside her with every bounce.

“Ohhhhh!” A particularly violent push elicits a long moan from the empress, her orgasm apparent to her lover underneath her. He can feel the throbbing of her cunt squeezing his cock, and he cums inside with an equally long exclamation.

Completely spent, they both roll onto their sides, facing one another with silken sheets covering their sweat-soaked, heat-driven bodies.

She sighs contentedly, her face adoringly searching his.

“I do love it when you call me that.”

“Hmm?”

“Empress.”

“That is who you are, is it not?”

“Indeed. But perhaps I like it more when you call me something else.”

“And what’s that?”

“ ‘my love’ “

Leo melts instantly and presses a soft kiss to her lips.

“My love. I’ll follow you forever.”

“Even if I make a fool of myself?”

“Oh, especially then.” Leo smiles with good humor, and quickly adds on, “my love.”

“I love you.” Catherine whispers, her gaze soft and pure with emotion.

Leo simply kisses her forehead and holds her tightly to the warmth of his beating heart. A heart that beats only for his love.

…

[leche-flandom]

leche-flandom in the uk: the flights

HOKAY so first things first:

Flying first class? Insane. Absurdly privileged. I'm addicted.

At the airport, I was not interested in hanging out at the first class lounge but my husband insisted that I go check it out when I tried to join them at the food court. I wasn't impressed with the free food tbh. I think the main draw is the free booze? I counted two bars but then again I only stayed on the first floor. I didn't feel like drinking though, since I knew there'd be drinks on the flight. But but but people on Reddit said that the brownies are decent; they also said it's frowned upon to bring the food out with you. With this in mind, I had packed some sandwich bags in my purse. When the servers weren't looking, I stuffed some desserts in them for the kid. Leche-flandom does mild subversion.

Then there was the flight! It was kinda bizarre to always fly economy and then surpass comfort+, first class, first premier class, etc...all the way up to a pod. There's that tumblr post about good bologna. I good bologna-ed up to my little private cabin in the front of the plane, where they had freakin mood lighting and where I was already wowed by an overhead bin dedicated just for me, before anyone even spoke. The guy in charge went, "Welcome back Ms. Flandom" (welcome back bc I've flown that airline before, I guess? And they ALL do that, all call you by your name, so weird) "thank you so much for choosing to fly with us. Would you like sparkling wine?" Heck yes I would!

The seat was fun, and kinda reminded me of how tiny homes have hide away things to save space. I texted my husband about finding a mirror, lol.

Dinner was short rib and grits from a popular barbecue restaurant. And whew, I spent FIFTEEN minutes intermittently trying to figure out how to get out the fold away table and utterly failed. Thank goodness for the flight attendant who casually pushed it in first to release it. Then he unfolded it and put a tiny white table cloth on it. I didn't laugh, but it was a near thing.

Then the attendant walked around offering a tray of tiramisu and ice cream sundaes!

So I had wine, ice cream, and "The Mummy" going on. I was able to recline my seat into a bed. They gave me a little kit with slippers, socks, lip balm, hand cream and a toothbrush/toothpaste set. Life was good.

I didn't think flying could get any better. But then when we left the UK/Europe, I flew first class on KLM (which tracks, because when we've flown basic with KLM before, we were surprised by how much nicer it was).

Before I even sat down the flight attendant offered to take my coat so I wouldn't have to stow it in the overhead bin. AND their seats are diagonal so I got not one but two windows!

They also had a little cabinet next to the seat, full of free things like an eye mask and water, but also with space for my stuff too. Really that was my favorite part, being able to have my things on hand instead of reaching for my backpack.

When I was disinfecting everything I accidentally turned my screen Russian. My Google lens wasn't working so I took a wild stab at it, chose one option, and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it return to English so I wouldn't have to notify the staff that I was a complete idiot. I had already accidentally pressed the button to recline my seat into a bed twice at that point (crushing my backpack a little ha)

The food was probably good but I've the boring palate of a uncultured child, so I didn't like it. It was nice that they came around with a warm bread basket with white and brown choices though!

Cannot get over how nice the flight attendant was! Like at one point she was starting the beverage service and when she got to me I asked her where the restroom was. She pointed it out and then asked, "Do you want to wait until after you go to get your drink?" And I went...sure? So she just backed that cart up and seriously waited til I was settled to start service again. WHAT?

And the same flight attendant seemed kinda disappointed I refused a coffee or port or anything else with my dessert (which was a mango chocolate thing of a jiggly texture, did not like). She left but then later came back and said, "Maybe you would be interested in one of these?" Then she opened a huge box of white, milk, and dark chocolates shaped like little Dutch houses!

An hour or so before landing, they gave us a small poke bowl (which I'm sure was very enjoyable to mature adults) and ravioli. I really liked this chocolate thing!

The most cuckoo bananas part was right before we landed. This guy came around with a tray holding a little village. Apparently, they like to give KLM first class fliers these adorable Dutch houses as souvenirs! Again, WHAT? That's so nice, I was flabbergasted! Because my backpack was stuffed, I chose the smallest one.

Just to be clear, I'm not detailing all this to brag. I just know I'll never experience this level of luxury ever again so I need to document it while it's fresh in my mind. That way when I'm decrepit I'll have these posts to look back on 🤗

[anarchic-miscellany]

Terrible Screenplay Idea: "Suicide Squad: Snowball's Chance"

The nation of Vlatava, once great and shining and rich in culture under its totalitarian aristocratic rulers the House of Zytle, is now little more than a puppet state of its masters. And it is also home to a rogue CIA operative, whom the American government want gone. "Bad Samaritan" (I love comics...) was pulling strings, making deals and helping the new puppet rulers of Vlatava (the House of Zytle having been deposed in a coup and exiled) to funnel resources to his own pockets and his Langley paymasters. But now he has gone rogue, and this embarassment needs to go. Cue Amanda Waller and her "idiot programme". Under the guidance of aging ex-CIA operative King Faraday (now in one of the cells of Belle Reve after an attempt to usurp the project for his own ends went awry), a team of madcap supervillains with nothing to lose will be dispatched into Vlatava to take out this bastard, and Heaven help any who stand in their way! Faraday is happy to get out of here, and show Amanda how this is really done.

To his chagrin, however, he finds that his team consists of: 1. Count Vertigo = One of the House of Zytle, obsessed with reclaiming his lost throne. An arrogant blue-blooded prick, man of culture, speaker of 9 languages, and man with the ability to induce vertigo in his opponents with his hearing aid. 2. Mayfly = A super fast, acid-tongued sharpshooter and mercenary for hire who attempted to kill The Flash and Wonder Woman in the same afternoon. If it weren't for the bomb in her neck, she'd be ditching Vlatava in a heartbeat. It was Faraday who put her in prison, so she has more than a few scores to settle with him... 3. Sportsmaster = A loud, rowdy, definitely blood-crazed dick and Jock, who keeps surviving these missions against all odds. He doesn't speak Vlatavan, and doesn't care: he's in for a good time, and to look after himself. He doesn't care for that pretentious, pompous Vertigo... 4. Papercut = A D-Lister who tried to join the big leagues when The Rogues left central city, they have the power to control and manipulate paper: wood is still a bit tricky for them to do. They talk a big game and are constantly trying to convince the others that they are lethal. Sportsmaster takes a weird, bullying liking to this one... 5. Talon = A super strong, regenerating assassin from The Court of Owls, who has been unleashed and planted into this team as their Ace in the Hole. He's an unyielding pain train, nightmare, and almost a mascot for the madness. In Vlatava he finds kindred spirits, and relishes the chance to be his own man...

6. Fiddler = A theatrical violinist with the power to create sound blasts and control minds with his magical violin. He's maybe the only other man of culture on this team, and can attempt to blend into Vlatava. He is, however, just a regular man with a magical violin. Survival is unlikely. 7. Icicle = A fellow survivor of these missions: a cryokinetic Russian woman with an odd sense of humour and a lose of the weird. She's antisocial and blunt, but absolute hell on wheels out here, and sometimes that is what you need.

These ragtag misfits and arseholes end up on an infiltration mission in Vlatava, and conted with the populace, language barriers, and the security agencies on their tail! Can they complete the mission, get home intact and not murder each other?

[thedovesaredying]

I hope you don't mind me adding on to this with a little snippet of my own 0w0

-

It’s certainly an... experience, attending the town hall meeting. He can almost understand why you were so insistent on him joining you, especially if all monthly meet-ups end up with an angry, spitfire of a woman wiping the floor with one of the most arrogant men Nikto has ever had the misfortune of meeting. The bastard deserved it though – after all, what did he expect? - there’s nothing quite like watching a woman defending her and her man’s honour.  

He’d been standing in the corner for the entirety of the meeting, wishing that he could just disappear into the background, but after that fight? He ensures that you’re between him and the rest of the room, because the last thing he wants is to be the next on Goose’s list should Ghost or the rest of his little buddies notice his presence.  

Without his typical get-up, he has the advantage of being largely anonymous. He doesn’t speak often, and with his signature mask switched out for his bandana, he’s able to simply blend in with the rest of the men and women. There are practically no files remaining that have any photos of his face, and even fewer still that show his current disfigured appearance.  

Task Force 141 wouldn’t be able to recognise him on sight, thankfully, but he suspects it won’t be long until they catch word of the scarred, ex-military Russian who goes by Nikto. No doubt he’ll be having a friendly visit sometime soon. He almost looks forward to it, at least Sputnik will get to have some fun.  

He knows he shouldn’t be eager to face Ghost again, not with how disadvantaged he would be, but it’s almost habit at this point. Hate still burns under his skin, and his thirst for revenge remains to be satisfied. It would be so easy, so very simple from this position. All he would need to do it to pull his handgun and blow his brains out. He can just imagine the way Ghost’s brain would stain the wood of the wall in ghastly splatters and the bone-deep satisfaction it would bring. 

Or perhaps he could take out his fiery woman? Goose is innocent, yes, and from what he can tell a kind and competent woman, but to tear away Ghost’s happiness after he’s only just managed to grasp it? It wouldn’t last long, not with every last person in the building carrying *some* sort of weapon, but it would be worth losing his life, if only to die with the knowledge that he was the one to do it.  

And yet he shows restraint.  

You always make that sad face at him whenever he mentions how little his life is worth now, with big, wet eyes very similar to Sputnik when she’s trying to get some food from him. It’s an impressive skill of yours, your ability to make him feel... something, deep down in his chest. He knows you’d be devastated if he was killed and, even if he can’t figure out why, he’s not about to break your heart.  

He’s already decided that he’ll be by your side for as long as you want him there, and he won’t be selfish and abandon you purely because of his need to destroy everything he hates. He calms his twitchy trigger finger by resting his good hand on your shoulder, distracting himself with watching König laying on the floor.  

“Always such an idiot,” he huffs to himself, rolling his eyes when the Austrian makes a pained groan as he clutches his clearly dislocated arm.  

You blink at him, surprised, “you know that guy?” you ask, reaching up to gently rest your own hand over his where his still sits on your shoulder. When he nods, your face scrunches up in that adorably confused way of yours, “shouldn’t you be helping your friend?” 

That almost gets a laugh out of him, but he settles for grinning under his bandana. “He has brought this upon himself, let him suffer, Цыплёнок,” he hums, gently leading you toward the exit, seeing as the meeting is apparently over. You still seem a little sceptical if the raised eyebrow you send him is anything to go by, but you don’t question it, allowing him to guide you out.  

Nikto allows his eyes to meet König’s as they walk past, and he can see the exact moment recognition passes through the other ex-mercenary's mind. König’s face twists into a snarl, but they’ve swept past and out of the hall before the tall fucker can even consider saying anything.  

“You sure that was your friend? Didn’t look too happy to see you,” you comment, pulling his hand from your shoulder and intertwining his fingers with yours.  

“We have no friends,” he states simply, lifting your hand to where his lips are hidden behind his mask and gently pressing a kiss to the back of your palm.  

Finally, someone with the correct response to Goose kicking König's ass! Let our Queen defend herself like the girlboss she is!

Also, Nikto is totally not hiding in the corner, subtly sliding Chook in front of him because he'd probably end up being next and shit, of course Ghost would have picked the craziest woman on the planet. Can't even attend a damn town meeting without there being some 141 shenanigans afoot. He's definitely giving König a side-eye as they leave because "wow, really falling downhill if you're getting your ass beat out in public like that." (he's leaving quickly in case Goose is still nearby)

The idea that Nikto was watching König get his ass beat and 1. Decided (rightfully) that Ghost must like crazy chicks and 2. That he should not get involved, tickles me. Also very funny that Nikto definitely knows König and went "he made his bed". Did not try to help him. Nikto is extending König no grace.

Goose wouldn't hurt Nikto(probably) she doesn't want to get on the vet's bad side.

[munsster]

Im a very sad person but what makes it better is Robin Buckley. So can I request a angst os with Robin?

bloodshot bad news

A/N: i wasn’t sure if u wanted a happy/fluffy ending, so i apologize if i got that wrong by including one, but i hope it can help in easing things for you, even a little :))

Pairing: Robin Buckley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You know firsthand how worried Robin gets over the smallest things. You just never imagined you’d be one of them. 1.4k words

Warnings: ST4 ep8 spoilers, angst, protective robin, lots and lots of verbal fighting, canon level gore/wound (it’s gross im so sorry), i think this is what they call hurt/comfort

Your lips are dry and cracked, but a huffed breath is still punched from your lungs when you flop onto Eddie’s timeworn mattress. Your head pounds and your chest aches and Robin grabs your hand and tugs you into her warmth. But you hiss, fingertips coiling into her upper arms while your eyes squeeze shut at the searing pain down your leg.

She doesn’t notice it. And thank God she doesn’t notice it. The limp. The gritted teeth. The whimpering. So you find an excuse, looking down at your blood and dirt-streaked palms with a wince.

“I’ll, um”—you swallow hard, holding up your outstretched fingers like surrender. But she’s not looking at your hands or the mud settled into their cracks. She’s watching you—“I’ll be right back. Just need to wash my hands.”

You’re shuffling down the hall before she can protest. Closing the bathroom door before her mind can explain why you were walking so wobbly. Why you were tender-footed and cursing under your breath.

With a guttered sigh, you peel your jeans down around your ankles, and the once soft boyfriend denim is stained red and stiff where the blood had caked on and dried. You slump onto the toilet seat and throw your shoes, pants, and dignity in the bathtub.

Eyes shut tight, sleeves rolled up, taking a deep breath: you pat down the smooth skin of your thigh until the veins just beneath the surface throb and gush with boiling blood. To fix. Hot to the touch. Deliciously tender. Inflamed, and yet your fingers creep on. The ridges of dried and crusty scabs pepper the skin and flake at the pressure. Your body stalls because it stings. You went too low, and it fucking stings, and your fingertips are wet when you jerk them away from the gash.

You don’t even remember how you got it. You just remember walking far behind the group through the ashen woods. You remember Robin rambling about how idiotic Steve’s heroism had made him, her hand in yours the whole time. You didn’t realize one of the bats probably nicked you while frenzied for a losing Steve.

And now, there’s a flesh wound sliced from kneecap to mid thigh that’s filling your mouth with vomit and making everything a little blurred around the edges.

There’s a knock on the door of careful knuckles and strain. Like they want to pound. Dying to get in while knowing the horrors of the otherside.

“Don’t come in, I’m… shitting!”

“I’m coming in.” Her voice is muffled, but you know it’s hers from its uneasy lilt. The song in a minor key that sweeps beneath her words whenever she feels gutted.

The door swings open and shut but you’re still scrambling for your crumpled jeans, fisting the damp and crimson patch. But the bend over is not worth it if you’re splitting teeth for a grimace.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Robin’s staring. Fixating with an inferno behind her eyes. Obsessing and crouching down beside your bare legs, hands hovering over the slick wound like she’s magic. Like it’ll go away if she could just focus.

“There were more important things going on,” you mumble. And to you, it makes sense. Always busy searching or hearing things or being stuck or biking and avoiding. You weren’t thinking about your leg because this isn’t your battle. You’re not Hawkins. You’ve never done this before. No Russians or guts, just high school and Robin.

And she thinks that’s complete and utter bullshit.

“More important than you bleeding out?” she says, chastising you like you need it. She fumbles around under the sink and spills a thick plastic box labeled Munson. “What if it got infected? What if you went into septic-fucking-shock and died? Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

Your chest caves, curling in on yourself, anchoring to the hard porcelain, studying the dusty shag rug.

“I’m sorry,” she hums, peering up at you from her seat on the tile, her cool fingers holding your ankle and setting your foot on her knee. “I didn’t mean that, I—”

“Sure you didn’t. Nobody ever does. But I’m still some fuck up, right? I put myself in danger because I don’t really care, right? Is that what you think?” you bite, watching her eyes flick wildly over your face, “It’s not my fucking fault, Robin, and I’m not dead, so would you lay off?”

But she’s too wound up. Too busy swiping your swollen skin with a towelette that tingles like pins and needles to let you dive head first into nobility and leave a purple heart. A fallen soldier and a wilting bouquet.

“No, I won’t lay off. Do you know how worried I am every day that I’m gonna lose you?” She’s looking right at you. She’s looking right at you, and you’re cross-armed facing the shower curtain and pouting. Red-soaked wipes pile into the trashcan, but she’s looking right at you.

“Sometimes I wake up and it’s like today’s the day. The dream is over and she’s too good for me, and I knew it. Sometimes I feel so stupidly lucky to have even met you because you’re selfless and brave and smart, and I’ve never met anyone like you. And then you go and put yourself in danger because you think you’ll be better for it, but you won’t, (Y/n). Do you get how fucking bad it feels when you disregard your own safety?”

Your cheeks. Your undereyes. Your neck is damp, and you can’t bring yourself to dry any of it away. Your eyes go glossy again because she’s frowning from the corner of your eye, and your clothes are shredded and this used to be your favorite sweater.

“Look at me.”

So you do.

“Do you have any idea how many people care about you? How many people would do anything to keep you safe?”

“I don’t need saving,” you say.

“Clearly you do,” she says. And it’s like, in any other circumstance, she’d be teasing you. Laughing at that stoic look in your eye. But she just shifts your leg and lays a pad of gauze along the tear. “God, I’ve spent every single second of the last twenty-four hours being here for you, and I feel like you don’t even care.”

“I do care.”

“No—”

“No, I do care.”

“No, you don’t or else you would’ve told me.”

“I didn’t want you worrying more than you already do, Robin. It’s so suffocating having you worry about me all the time—”

“Because i care about you.” She tugs an ace bandage around your thigh, knotting it tight until you hiss and touch her wrist. It makes her feel bad because you still treat her soft. Even while she’s putting you through physical hell for your good. The white cotton gauze peeks out from the tan wrap, and you both look down at it like a burden.

Then she looks up at you. And you look at her. And she cups your cheek.

“I care about you so much. And I’m sorry I worry and worry, but I love you”—her voice breaks and you shatter—“You mean everything to me, and I can’t help trying to protect you. I didn’t have a lot of good things until I met you, and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I lost you.”

You shake your head, and she smiles. Just barely and pushing through the line of a frown, but she smiles.

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

Your hands lead you forward, resting your heavy forehead on hers and closing your eyes. She lets you push her sweaty hair behind her ear and kiss the bridge of her nose as long as she can wrap her fingers into your palms and rest her thumbs over your chapped knuckles.

“You’re not gonna lose me. Ever,” you whisper, “We still have to see the seven wonders and get married. So, you know… ‘m not going anywhere for a long, long time.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry. For all the… overbearing girlfriend stuff. I promise I’m trying to do better.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m so proud of you, and it’s okay that we both have growing to do.”

“Starting with pants.”

“Starting with pants!” You laugh when she stands and pecks the top of your head, only lingering when you hum and lean your cheek against her torso. Because she’s safe.

masterlist

[darkwaveho]

Favors

Summary: Wanda steps in to make sure you have a special day.

Parings: Stoner!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: 18+, cursing, fluff, jealousy, angst, brief hurt-comfort, suggestive themes, Flirting, groping, start of smut, alcohol use, drug use, public sex, slight Voyerisum. 

A/n: This part got long af, after this part I’ll most likely be taking a break from posting this series. Anyway, happy reading 🙃

Part 5 |   | Part 7

Wanda was on a mission to cheer you up. she woke up bright and early spending the majority of her time in the electronics department at BestBuy making sure you had the best laptop with the best features. she also stopped by a flower shop picking up a bouquet of flowers that best described you. she thought about buying other things too, but she didn’t want to overwhelm you or make you think she was trying to buy your affection. No, she wanted that to come naturally. Yelena answers the door, releasing a sound of surprise. “Wands, what are you doing here?” Wanda scuffs at the young blonde. 

“Can’t I just stop by to see my favorite Russian?” Yelena folds her arms and rolls her eyes.

“Your favorite Russian would be Natasha, now get out of my doorway.” she puts her foot between the doorway keeping it from shutting in her face. Yelena moves away from the door allowing Wanda to pass the threshold. 

“So, what do you want?” Yelena says dryly before she suddenly perks up when seeing the bag and small bouquet of flowers in Wanda’s hands. “Are those for me? I love you Wands I truly do but I’m not into you that way, but I’ll gladly accept the gifts, platonically of course.” 

She goes to reach for the items, but Wanda dodges her. “First off, ew. Secondly these are not for you. Idiot.” 

“Well excuse me for assuming. Why show up here early in the morning with gifts in your hand if it’s not for me?” She ends her response with a raised eyebrow. She was slightly upset about not receiving anything. Wanda would get her something later. Yelena was like a little sister to her; she was also an exception to getting the Wanda Maximoff spoiling treatment.

“Is Y/n here?” Yelena drops her jaw, she knew you were entertaining someone, but she didn’t expect it to be Wanda. 

“You and y/n? she didn’t tell me anything.” Wanda chuckles at the reaction. 

“Well, she’s been playing hard to get.” 

Yelena tilts her head smirking at Wanda’s confession of you not being easy to obtain. “Good for her.” 

“Anyway, is she here?” Wanda says a bit impatiently. 

“She’s in her room but I’ll warn you, she’s been in a shit mood since yesterday. something about her laptop and idiots.” Wanda bites her lip. would you still be upset with her even though she wasn’t the one that damaged your laptop? 

Wanda nods her head and walks towards your room door. “Thanks.” before she can fully walk away Yelena grabs Wanda’s arm forcefully causing her to look down at the hold she had on her. 

“Y/n is my best friend; I don’t care how long I’ve known you, if you hurt her, I will beat the last remaining functioning braincells you have in that brain of yours.” Wanda sets her jaw, she wouldn’t hurt Yelena, but she wasn’t too keen on threats; she didn’t care if Nat was her best friend. she settles for keeping her mouth closed. she only wants to see you not wanting to cause more conflict with another one of your friends. 

Yelena releases her hold on Wanda and gives her a small smile. “Good luck Wands.” 

Wanda knocks on the door waiting, you don’t even respond right away. maybe Yelena lied or maybe you left out and she just assumed you were still in your room. so, she knocks again rapidly. “Go away Yelena, I’m not in the mood.” you say through the other side of the door. your response comes out muffled which has Wanda going curious as to how bad it is on the other side of the door. 

when it’s clear you aren’t coming to the door, she turns the knob finding your figure underneath your covers. well at least it adds more to the surprise she thought. you sigh from under the covers knowing Yelena would come into your room and drag you outside eventually. the bed dips as you wait for Yelena to start her rant about you fussing over materialistic things and how the library was still an option or how you can just save up and buy a new one that’s much cheaper and doesn’t have as much spec on it. you feel hands softly rub up and down your back soothingly. 

“I’m here to make it all better princess.” you know that voice, you go stiff underneath the covers. maybe you were just hearing things, no way she was in your room right now sitting on your bed. until you’re proven wrong when she speaks again. 

“You don’t want to come out? fine I’m coming in there with you.” you feel the right side of the covers slightly shift and you’re quick to jump up from the dark abyss you found yourself bound to since yesterday. 

“What are you doing here??” you ask her with slight anger. “And how the hell did you get in my room?” you end your sentence by swatting at her figure on your bed. she stares at you unfazed by you whacking her, she’s eyeing your body slowly. “Nice Pjs princess.” she compliments your Sailor moon T- shirt you loved sleeping in and your sleep shorts. “Shut up.” she laughs at your pouting face. she wasn’t making fun of you she genuinely liked the shirt and you just looked so adorable. 

“I think its sexy on you, but it would be even sexier if you had that shirt on the floor right now.” she wiggles her eyebrows playfully. she’s so lost in your appearance right now she didn’t see the force of the pillow you launched her way. “Answer my question, what are you doing here??”

“Ow, ow, calm down I came to check on you and Yelena let me in.” your eyes go wide at the thought of your best friend allowing her into your room. Wanda lets you know about the small conversation she had with Yelena, just so you wouldn’t be caught off guard. 

“She uh... knows about us.” Wanda was searching for your expression; she didn’t find it because you were stuck trying to find out when you and Wanda even became an “us”. 

“Wanda we’re not-” she cuts you off before you can finish. 

“Here, I bought these to cheer you up.” you didn’t even notice the flowers sitting on your nightstand, and of course they were beautiful you had to admit Wanda had taste. 

“Those are beautiful.” you softly whisper in awe of the vibrant hues. 

“I knew you would like them, I put them together myself, just for you.” she says while leaning on one side of her arm. she’s been staring at you this whole time you’ve been freed from the depths of the sulking cover. you clear your throat trying not to get lost in those green eyes of hers. 

“I have something else for you as well. even though it wasn’t my fault I still can’t have my princess walking around without one of these.” she sits a big bag on your lap. 

“What’s this?” she just laughs at your curiosity. 

“Open it and find out.” Did she buy you more panties? but this was much heavier than panties, you carefully peek into the bag and quickly snap your eyes back to Wanda’s confident gaze. “Wanda, I can’t accept this.” you push the bag into her lap. “You can and you will dekta.” she counters you and pushes the bag back into your hands. 

“It was partially my fault for your damaged laptop anyway.” she plays with her rings, she felt guilty for what happened Daisy needs to learn some self-control, but she still wanted to make sure you had this. “So just take it.” you notice the guilt she’s expressing, and you’d be a fool to turn this away knowing you needed a laptop for film. “Okay.” you nod your head in agreement before placing the bag on the floor for you to set up everything later.

 “I gave you the roses, can you show me the bud now?” She says biting her lip deviously. Only she can take a nice moment and ruin it with a sexually charged comment.

“Here, have it back.” you push the flowers into her chest

“Wait no, I was kidding, sorry.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Okay I wasn’t but I didn’t mean to ruin the mood, I just have a hard time controlling my thoughts around you.” she says while nervously playing with her rings

“Yeah, I’ve noticed, thanks for the flowers, and for the laptop, that was very... sweet of you.” you swallow harshly and look away from her.

She perks up at your gratitude for the gifts.

“Go on a date with me?” She blurts out before you have the time to leave your seat.

“What?” You say taken back from her outburst. She fixes her posture, straightening her back. “I said go on a date with me.” You tilt your head and stare at her expectedly as she shifts under your hard gaze. “You know for someone always talking about manners you sure do lack them.”

“Wha- what?”

“You think you can ask me on a date because you bought me flowers and a laptop?”

“Yes?” she playfully grins after thinking it over for a few seconds. you think about it for a moment. what she did for you really was sweet, but you decided to give her a hard time anyway. 

“I didn’t hear you say please.” you wait for her to respond. She opens and closes her mouth not knowing what to say she didn’t want to say please she never had to say please for a date. Hell, she hasn’t even been on a date in a long time. she prefers the one and done type of thing. But for you she would say it, only for you.

Wanda clears her throat. “Can you-” you quickly interrupt her. “That’s not how you ask a question.” her cheeks turn a light shade of red, was she blushing at you correcting her? Or was she just nervous?

“Y/n, will you go out on a date with me? Please?” She looks adorable when she’s not a raging horny demon. “This date doesn’t take place in a sex dungeon, does it?”

“Uh no, unless you want it to.” Wanda leans in closer to you. “I know a guy, but I’d much rather have you in the comfort of my own room.” Wanda didn’t want you to think she wasn’t serious, so she focuses back on the topic about your potential date. “I was actually thinking about taking you out somewhere chill and fun and just talking?”

You stand from your bed, Wanda panics as she follows suit. What did she say this time? “So, we go out and just talk? No other ulterior motives?” you size her up wanting to see if she was bullshitting you right now. the words date and Wanda didn’t go together. everyone knew that. Or anything having to deal with commitment.

“Um no, I just want time with you and to know you better.” she looks away avoiding your eye contact why the fuck was this so hard for her to do? 

You send her a small smile “I’ll think about it.” 

she huffs. “What’s there to think about? you can’t tell me you don’t like me. that proved wrong when you had your knuckles deep in my-” you cover her mouth not knowing if Yelena was still home or if she was listening in on your conversation, being the Nosy person, she was. 

“Okay, I get it, but I just don’t know about you. From what I hear and from what I saw you’re not a relationship person.” you sit down on your bed once more. as Wanda steps in between your legs.

“Like I said you’re different.” was all she said to your previous concerns. you stare out in the open trying to scope her out to see if her intentions are pure. Despite what happened between you two a year ago, you can move past that and give her a fair chance. could you go on a date with her and not get attached like the others? or would you want more? While lost in thought Wanda grabs your face bringing your focus back to her. 

“Go. on. a. date. with. me.” She presses you further as she asks you again. you sigh rubbing your face as she awaits your answer. when she’s met with silence she quickly comes up with another plan.

“Fine, I have no choice but to bring out my secret weapon.” you pinch your brows watching her intently. 

“Wanda, what are you doing?” she crouches down and drops on her knees in front of you. 

“You want me to beg?” she says while softly rubbing your bare legs. “Please.” she ends her plea with a soft kiss to your skin and lays her head down on your leg. 

“Okay, fine.” you couldn’t deny her right now, not after seeing her on her knees touching you like this.

she perks up “seriously?” 

“Yes, now get up before I change my mind.” she quickly stands to her feet just staring down at you. 

“Uh Wanda, I have to get dressed.” She nods her head but doesn’t move an inch from her spot. 

“Meaning you need to get out so that I can do that.” Her face falters a bit from your response. 

“I’ve literally seen your pussy already, is watching you get dressed that big of a deal?” You throw a pillow at her. “Get out.” 

“Fine, but don’t have me waiting too long.” She says while closing your bedroom door. When you finally get yourself together, closing your room door behind you. You find Wanda on the couch biting her nails. “You ready?” Wanda looks up at you.

“No, I’m still getting ready.” You speak. Words dripping with sarcasm as you stand there with your purse. “You’re cranky in the mornings, I’ll get used to it though.” She smirks not taking offense to the sarcastic remark. She also notices the purse you have draped across your chest. 

“You don’t need that baby.” She points towards you. “It’s my treat, just leave it.” You don’t even argue with her you just take your ID out and stash a few bucks into your pocket just in case things go horribly. 

When Wanda sees you put the purse down, she stands up and grabs your hand leading you out the door you didn’t even check to see if Yelena was still in her room or if she left. “So, where are we going, Maximoff?” You turn to her curiously. 

“I have no idea.” she shrugs her shoulders.

“So, you asked me on a date and didn’t have an exact place you wanted to have said date at?” She hums in acknowledgment. “Yup exactly.” 

you scuff in slight disapproval. “Wow.” 

“What? it’s called being spontaneous, I promise you’ll have fun.” She reaches for your hand and squeezes it for reassurance at first which then turns to her linking her fingers through yours, it takes a second but when you follow suit Wanda smiles to herself. You were actively choosing to hold her hand. 

--------

 When Wanda leads you to a suspicious building the first thought in your mind was that she was actually crazy enough to bring you to a sex dungeon for a date. She notices your apprehensive expression. “Relax, you’ll see when we go inside.” She holds the door open for you and you reluctantly walk inside. When you’re met with a rusty metal elevator you turn back to Wanda. 

“Okay, now this is getting weird, where are we?” She laughs at you and your panicking expression. 

“Calm down, once we take this elevator we’ll be there. Trust me.” She squeezes your hand to ease your nerves. You both stepped inside the elevator and of course it was on the top floor whatever ‘it’ is. The sound of the run-down elevator had you internally panicking. You shift closer to Wanda without realizing and Wanda tries to contain her excitement. She settles for rubbing her thumb across your hand soothingly as you both wait for the doors to open. Cool air, bright lights and comforting music. 

You turn to Wanda. “Go-karts?” She smiles at your reaction and hums. “They have more than just go karts. Is this okay? We can go somewhere else if you-“ 

you stop her from rambling. “It’s perfect.” 

“Okay, you want to take a look around or get straight to losing the race?” You gasp. “Me? Losing? Not a chance Maximoff.” she grins at getting you to bring out your competitive side. 

“Are you cocky at everything?” 

Wanda leans in close to your face. 

“I’m not cocky, I’m just that good.” you hum in acknowledgement an lightly oush her away. you feel yourself becoming more comfortable around her. “I’m a visual learner, so let’s see just how good you are.” Wanda was caught off guard. were you two still talking about racing? You take a moment to look around, only you and Wanda are present. 

“Are we the only ones here?” She smiles shyly before answering. “I know the guy who owns it and asked if he could close it to the public today.” 

“Look at you Cassanova, pulling out all the stops for little old me? or do you always do this for girls you have your eye on?” she grabs your hand leading you further into the place. 

“First off, I can pull out way more stops for you if you let me, secondly and most importantly I’ve only ever done this for you, no one else.” you search her eyes seeing if her words hold any truth to them, when you don’t find any reason to question her you walk towards the station of the go karts. 

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” you smirk at her as you grab a helmet from the rack. The race was actually competitive between you two, causing a draw in the leaderboard for wins. Wanda proposes a bet. that whoever wins the next race gets whatever they want, she of course wanted a kiss. you didn’t know what you wanted but you accepted the bet anyway. Wanda was desperate to win, not for the actual leader board but just to feel your lips on hers once more. so, she cheated, that’s right Wanda bumped into your car causing a spin out just as you were about to win the race. 

“You’re a goddamn cheater.” you say with annoyance clear in your voice. 

“Aww don’t pout, you put up a good fight. but like I said I’m just that good.” she smiles smugly as she takes the helmet off. she leans forward with her eyes closed waiting on your lips to meet hers. you lean in close, causing her breath to hitch with excitement, until you take a detour and land your lips on her cheek. she stands there with her lips parted and a slight frown on her face. “Aww don’t pout, you never said where you wanted the kiss.” you pat her cheek as you walk towards the games. 

“You’re mean.” Wanda shouts as she follows after you. The rest of the time was spent playing the old arcade games, talking, eating junk and Wanda winning (Stealing) prizes for you. 

-------

when you two decide to call it a day. she walks you to your door holding the insane number of stuffed animals she carried all the way here. you offered to take a few in your arms but she insisted on her being the one to carry them. “I can take them now since I’m home now.” you reach for the stuffed animals before Wanda turns away from you. “Nu uh, I’m going to take them in for you and place them in your room personally.” you give her a ‘really’ look. she shrugs and makes a valid point. 

“You still have to open the door baby.” you turn around and unlock your door. letting Wanda in first, she passes you and makes her way to your bedroom. she sits the prizes in your bed and reenters the living room watching you intently. she meets you by the doorway, you speak up first “I had a great time today.” she smiles widely, you don’t remember ever seeing her smile like this, you want to see more of it. 

“I’m glad. can’t wait for the next one.” she nods her head in confirmation. you laugh at her cockiness; she was so sure she would get another date. “Anyway, I’ll see you later Y/n.” she tries walking away from your door quickly, but you grab her hand stopping her movements. she looks down at your hands linked together. “You forgot something.” she pinches her brows thinking about what she possibly could’ve forgotten. did she leave one of your prizes at the go kart place? she so lost in her thoughts you can see the inner turmoil occurring. you decide to put her out of her misery and crash your lips onto hers. it takes a moment for her to kiss you back with her being caught off guard. the kiss is firm and slow which is surprising with how badly she’s been wanting to kiss you all day. you both pull away breathless. “What was that for?” she says. 

“I felt bad for finding a loophole in our bet.” you shrug but really you wanted to kiss her just as bad as she wanted to kiss you. How could you not after everything she’s done for you today. she narrows her eyes at you not believing your reasoning. 

“Are you sure it was just because of the bet and not because you wanted to kiss me?” you playfully roll your eyes and back into your room slowly closing your door. 

“Bye Wanda.” she slots her foot in the door before you can fully close it on her. “See you later?” she asks again more like ’another date earned?’ you lean your head against the doorframe barely containing your grin. 

Seeing her nervousness, you give her a break and you lean forward once more pecking her lips for reassurance. you nod your head once. “See you later.” you say indefinitely and close the door on her before she persuades you with letting her in with those green eyes you love so much. Wanda walked back to her apartment on cloud nine and this wasn’t the effect of her smoking. no, this was something much better. you. she’s already accepted the fact that you were her new addiction and she’s going to wear that with pride.

you enter your room arranging the stuffed animals and finally opening your new laptop to set it up before your door springs open with force. “You little sneak! how could you not tell me you were seeing Wands?? is that why we didn’t see you for the rest of the party the other day?” 

“First off, you ever heard of knocking? and secondly, I’m not seeing her she’s just very persistent.” Yelena hums agreeing with you as she sits down on your bed scoping out the scene. “She’s never had to be persistent with anyone y/n.” she gasps once she finally lays her eyes on the new tech sitting on your bed. “Is that new? Did she buy that? Is that what she had this morning?” you laugh at her rambling questions, she really was nosy. 

“Yelena, slow down and maybe mind your business.” you giggle at her pouting face. “The answer is yes to all of your many questions.” she smacks her lips and mumbles under her breath “You are my business bestie.” you look up at her narrowing your eyes, she wants something from you. “What is it this time?” she places her hand over her chest taking offense to your response. 

“Why do you automatically assume I want something? Can’t I just make small talk with my best friend.” you hum. ‘Yeah, except you don’t like small talk so what’s up?” 

she sighs and places her hair behind her ears. “Okay, we’re going out tonight and I want you to go out with us.” 

you think about it for a second. “Hmm I don’t know I was going to set up my laptop and finish studying for my film quiz.” Yelena makes a nauseating noise. “Yuck stop studying so much and have fun with your bestie, c’mon.” she bumps your shoulder to persuade you more. you roll your eyes and close your laptop. “Fine, let me take a shower and get dressed.” Yelena shows gratitude and leaves you to get ready. 

-------

You were on the dance floor three shots in, letting all your stress dissolve away as you danced into this stranger. you were so wrapped up in the music and you were a little buzzed to notice the absence of the stranger’s body behind you or the voice that ran it off. “Get the fuck away from her before I break your damn knees.” the stranger backs away without a fight. you feel hands on your waist again, but this was different from before this hold felt familiar. 

“When I said see you later, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon, but I’m not complaining.” she husks in your ear drowning out the loud music. you stop dancing much to Wanda’s disappointment and turn around facing her. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here.” you shout over the music. “Natasha dragged me here.” you laugh and nod at her being in the same situation as you with Yelena dragging you here tonight. 

“So, were you looking for someone in particular tonight?” you were just joking around with her, wanting to see her response. “What? No, I only came because Yelena told Nat that you’d be here.” she bites her lip finally eyeing your outfit very different from your casual clothes from your date earlier today. 

“You came to see me even though you saw me like 2 hours ago?” you tilt your head curiously, you really wanted to know. you wrap your arms around her neck gently pulling her into you. she stumbles a bit but never looks away from your eyes. 

“Yes.” her breath softly hits your lips. you smile and quickly turn around as the song changes. You make sure to grind your ass into Wand’s front. you really been catching her off guard lately maybe she wasn’t as prepared for you as she thought.

Kate notices you on the dance floor with Wanda and she practically chokes on her drink. “Slow down Bishop.” when Kate is down coughing up a lung, she pulls Yelena for her attention. “When the hell did that happen?” Yelena shakes her head. “I have no idea, but I found out today, Honestly I thought she was banging Daisy, but it turns out Wands has been chasing Y/n. Which is totally out of character for her.” 

Kate snaps her head to Yelena. “You think things are getting serious between them?” Kate asks, her nerves were about to make her pass the hell out right now, she didn’t think you would form a relationship with Wanda, she thought you two were just going to fuck and move on. “Wanda bought y/n a new laptop, flowers, and took her out this morning, they just got back only 2 hours ago. She’s never done this for someone before. I’d say that’s pretty serious Kate.” Yelena ends the conversation with telling Kate she’s going to get another drink. As Kate sits alone in the booth she thinks to herself. she’s got to tell you about Wanda. she’s got to tell you about what she did herself. your best friend betraying you. Thinking about the outcome of Kate telling you the truth she’s sure you were going to hate her and never talk to her again, was she prepared for that? she feels sick not really wanting to enjoy this outing right now with this new information.

You dance with Wanda until you both need a break, she offers to buy you a drink and you accept, telling her to take it to the table and wait for you to return from the restroom. she offers to come with you, but you know better. you know if she goes with you, you won’t be coming out of there for a while. Plus, you know self defense and your father had you take up boxing as a child. Wanda agrees to just head back to the table after much convincing she was very strong about escorting you to the restroom. Wanda sits at the table with Kates intense gaze set on her. 

“Where’s y/n?” 

“Oh, she’s in the restroom.” she takes a moment to really look at Kate, she didn’t look well. “Hey, Katie are you alright you look sick over there.” Yelena looks at her friend with concern. 

“Wands is right Kate are you okay? you didn’t pick your drink up after sitting it down again, did you?” she grabs Kates face looking at her pupils. 

Kate shakes her head no. “I just don’t feel very well right now. I’m gonna go.” she says while looking at Wanda. Wanda can sense the panic coming from Kate and she swears if she messes everything up for her after everything, she did it would not end pretty. Yelena goes with Kate and tells Wanda to let you know what happened. as Yelena walks Kate down the stairs from the booth she looks back to Wanda maybe she can sense the silent plea for her to tell you everything instead. Wanda ignores it and sips from her drink waiting for you to step out of that door.

While in the stall you hear stumbling and muffled voices. Of course, someone would fuck while you’re in here, you try to get through things as quickly as possible not wanting a public show. you stop your movements when the sudden sound of the stall and the moans are loudly echoing through this public room. you finish your business flush the toilet and as you were washing your hands you hear cries of pleasure and the name repeating over and over. 

Natasha. you won’t lie and say you haven’t thought about it. Was Wanda as ruthless as Natasha was? you’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear her prey change name titles repeating the word. Daddy. unnoticed to you Natasha can see you through the crack of the stall door she’s been watching you watch this door this whole time. did it spur her eagerness on even more? The answer is yes. she knows Wanda has claimed you already and she would never stab her best friend in the back so this was the closest she could get to fulfilling her desire of fucking you. she even whispered in the random girl ear to call out her name and she wanted to push further making the girl call her daddy just so Natasha could see your reaction. you shake your head trying to push away the intrusive thought and leave the restroom.

When you leave the restroom walking back to your table you stop in your tracks not seeing Yelena and Kate anymore you search for them briefly before you catch sight of another red head sitting in your seat next to Wanda. Jean. Where the fuck did, she come from? And more importantly why is she practically sitting on Wanda’s lap? 

“I haven’t seen you around lately Wanda.” 

“Yeah, I’ve been busy.” Jean hums and leans forward giving Wanda a better view of her chest. 

“Busy with what?” Wanda smirks up at her, she was trying to be nice hoping she could take a hint, but she was really starting to annoy her, she hated needy whores. she hated them unless she was fucking them while being needy but being needy in public? definitely a turn off. 

“Not what, more like who.” Jean blinks her eyes with surprise she hasn’t heard anything about Wanda having a new plaything so she had to be lying just so she could have Jean begging for her attention, begging to be fucked. You walk towards the table with your jaw set. Wanda is brought out of her intense stare down with Jean as you approach. 

“Hey, Princess!” Wanda tried to speak calmly to you, but her nerves got the best of her even though she wasn’t doing anything shady. she knows this isn’t a good look and she can tell this moment was now ruined because of Jean. 

Jean follows Wanda’s gaze. when her eyes land on you she studies you for a moment and tilts her head before speaking. “Hey, I know you, right? You’re Yelena.” 

“No, I’m y/n, Yelena is my best friend.” She has a look of fake realization; she knew your name. 

“What’s your name?” She laughs like that question should be obvious. You wait expectantly for her to answer. 

“Jean.” When you don’t have an expression after hearing her name, she pushes a little further. “Jean, Grey.” 

 you hum and point next to her. “Mind handing me my jacket Jane.” 

“You ready to leave?” You ignore Wanda as Jean hands you your jacket. “You two have a nice night.” you say as you walk away from the table. “Yeah, you too.” Jean waves her hand dismissively as she turns her attention back on Wanda.

“Y/n, wait!” Wanda grabs her jacket and quickly stands from her seat. Jean stops Wanda ‘s movements by grabbing her wrist. “Why are you chasing her? when I’m standing right here?” Jean says, turning on her seductive charm. Wanda was not interested, not after she’s been with you. you consumed her thoughts and her dreams, and she’d be damned if she let Jean or anyone else ruin what she’s worked so hard for. 

“Jean, I’m only going to say this once, fuck off. I’m not interested. 

“You were interested before, in fact I’m pretty sure I’m the only girl you had on your list that you’ve fucked more than once.” Wanda snatches her arm away from Jean’s grip. 

“That was then, this is now, and besides I only continued fucking you because I was bored, You’re not that great, I’d find some humbleness if I were you.” Wanda ends her response by running after you, hopefully you didn’t get far. when she walks outside of the club she sees you approaching a car, most likely an uber you called. she quickly makes her way over to you and closes the door before you can enter. 

“What the fuck?” you turn around facing Wanda. “Hell no.” before quickly trying to get into the uber.  “Leave me alone, go back to Jean.”  Wanda closes the door again before the driver speaks. 

“Hey, are you getting in or not? I can take other calls, you’re holding me and my time up.” Wanda dips down to the passenger side window. 

“Well, get the fuck out of here then.” he lets out at sound of disapproval before speeding off. “Why would you do that? now I’m going to have to take the bus!” you push her before storming down the sidewalk, you don’t get very far as Wanda picks you up unexpectedly and traps you between the brick wall of the building.

“I don’t want her.” she pants as she gently pulls you back into her. “Do you really think I would go through all this trouble for you. Just to fuck Jean again? when she practically throws her pussy at me?” 

you scuff. “Thanks, that’s reassuring.” okay maybe that wasn’t the best way to reassure you. “Sorry, I’m just saying I only have eyes for you, I promise. now can we finish having a good time? how about we continue our date?” 

“You really want to continue the date here?” 

“No, not here.” She shakes her head no.

“Are you really trying to get a two for one date with me, Maximoff?” she laughs. 

“Technically it’s our fourth date, the two times in the coffee shop count.” she playfully grins at you. 

“you’re crazy, but I suppose you’re right.” you bump her shoulder. 

“Let’s get going on our date then.” she grabs your hand and leads you down the street. the walk to your next destination wasn’t awkward, at all which Wanda was grateful for. she thought after the Jean incident she blew her chance with you. when you look up and notice that you’re standing in front of Wanda’s place you turn to her with confusion. 

“What are we doing here?” 

“We’re going on our final date for tonight, silly.” 

“Our date is at your place?” 

“Yes, c’mon it’s just going to be chill.” entering her apartment you notice the mess that was once in her living room area is gone, she cleaned her apartment. did she know she would get you back to her place or did she do this on her own free will with no motive involved? Wanda closes the door and moves to her kitchen. “You can sit on the couch while I get everything ready.”

you stop in your tracks at the new object in her living room. “You got a new couch?” she smiles from the kitchen area. “You noticed; do you like it?” 

“It’s nice.” is all you say, refraining from talking down on her old, busted couch from before. 

“Yeah, I figured it was time for a change and threw the other one out.” she wasn’t just talking about the couch right now, she wanted to change for you. you hum while taking your jacket off and finally sitting on the couch. 

you reach for the remote on the table turning the tv on to see something you never would expect to see. “Dick Van Dyke? I had no idea you were such an old lady.” she approaches the couch holding a tray with two bowls of ice cream, different toppings, and brownies. she sits the tray on the table. 

She gasps at your remark before playfully hitting your shoulder. “I am not old, that’s a classic.” You hum. “Yeah, an Old lady classic.” 

“Whatever.” she playfully rolls her eyes and sits down next to you finally turning on an episode and shifts her attention back to the dessert on the table. “Here, I thought we could have some ice cream and make our own sundaes. I also made you these brownies.” she says shyly, you had no idea how she could be bold and confident one minute and then shy and timid the next, but it really made her adorable. 

“You made them for me?” she nods her head yes not fully trusting her voice to speak just yet. she grabs the container and holds it out for you to try. 

“Try one.” you grab a brownie out of the container and break a piece off and popping it into your mouth. she awaits your approval or disapproval of her baking skills when you moan from satisfaction, she releases a breath of relief. 

“You like them?” you nod your head. “See I told you mine were better than the ones Caramel gave you.” she didn’t lie, these were much better than the brownies you liked at the coffee shop, but Wanda wouldn’t be Wanda if she didn’t let her jealousy show. 

“Her name is Carmen.” you know you annoyed her with the correction by how fast she clenched her jaw and turned back to the tv screen. she was being a big baby you weren’t even interested in Carmen that way she was just really nice. 

“You aren’t going to have a brownie?” you tilt your head at her waiting for her to turn toward you, it takes her longer than you’d like so you grab her face turning her to you gently. she faces you with raised eyebrows, as you hold a piece of brownie out for her to take. she takes it and bites into the brownie before her expression is replaced with something playful. 

“I’d much rather watch you eat them.” she holds up the piece she’s bitten into up to your lips. “Open.” you obey and as the brownie passes you lips Wanda’s thumbs gently rubs against your lips. she desperately wants to push past your lips and have you suck on her thumb. you secretly wanted her to shove her finger in your mouth and it came as a surprise when she didn’t. you can tell she’s been trying to control herself all day, which you’re very appreciative for but it also made you horny, just seeing how much she’s willing to do for you. you want to show some sort of gratitude, so you hold her hand and kiss her thumbs that’s against your lips, she stops her movements as she turns into a blushing mess. 

“We should eat this ice cream before it melts.” she says, avoiding your eye contact. you smile to yourself before agreeing with her and you both settle into comfortable conversation about the show’s episode. somewhere doing the conversation you both agreed to sitting on the floor instead to eat the dessert. You turn towards her again; this question has been running through your mind all day. “Wanda, was it true what Daisy said about your father?” She slowly turns to you without saying anything. She stares at you for a moment, maybe you shouldn’t have asked you can obviously see this was a sore subject. You didn’t mean to pry you just wanted to know her better. 

“He uh didn’t particularly care too much about colors on canvas or whatever, he said I was wasting my time and that I should find another profession to go into.” She sighs and rubs her face in anger. “He stopped paying for my tuition when I told him I wasn’t changing my major.” She shrugs nonchalantly as if it wasn’t tearing her up in the inside of not having her father’s support. 

“Is that why you started selling?” You dip you head trying to find eye contact. She clears her throat; you see the pool of tears starting to form in her eyes. They disappeared just as fast as they came, and she focuses back on the tv. 

“Can we just go back to our date and talking about me being an old lady.” She giggles nervously, and you nod your head yes. You don’t want her to feel uncomfortable for sharing with you, so you link your fingers through hers for comfort. She’ll tell in you in more details when she feels comfortable. You both fall back into previous banter without any problems which Wanda is grateful for. you have an idea, something that can take Wanda’s mind off of you question. “Wanda?” she hums waiting for you to continue. when you don’t, she grows concerned and turns her head to check on you. 

“You want to smoke?” you tilt your head giving her smug smile, you know she wants to smoke, and you know she’s been dying to smoke with you. “Fuck yes.” she jumps up grabbing her rolling tray, she thanks the weed gods for her already having a blunt rolled. it was only half of a regular blunt, but she’d have to make it work. she lights it and places it up to your mouth. you take the blunt between your lips instantly. you didn’t smoke often but when you did there was always a crazy situation happening. Wanda can watch you smoke all day; she didn’t even notice you holding the blunt back out for her to take. Too entranced in your beauty. 

“Take the blunt Maximoff and stop staring.” you say it in a playful way of course, she picks up on it and takes a hit. Wanda smokes more of the blunt than you do but then she looks up at you after taking a hit bringing you face close to hers and blowing smoke in your face. she laughs at you annoyed looked and when she nears you for a second time, she kisses you. you kiss her back when you feel smoke invade your lungs. 

you go wide eyed and pull away from her briefly coughing for a minute. 

“You asshole.” You hit her shoulder as she laughs at your baby lungs. As Wanda finishes the blunt on her own you go back to talking about your favorite shows and eating the remainder of the brownies, you don’t even notice how late it is. Wanda was making a mental note to remember everything that came out of your mouth. High or not so could remember anything that came from you.

“I’m not hating on the show, it’s just; I can’t get into it with the black & white filter. plus, it just reminds me of the shows they have on in nursing homes whenever I visit my granny.” you laugh at Wanda’s defensive expression. 

Wow, you really disrespecting my comfort show huh? what’s yours?” She already has a feeling about a possible option, but she really wants to know more.

You think about it for a second. you had a lot of shows that brought you comfort but you narrowed it down between your two favorites. “Between Buffy or Charmed.” 

she stares at you for a moment before speaking again. “You’re such a nerd.” 

“Whatever.” 

“No, I think it’s cute.” 

“I’m not a nerd.” you say grinning playfully, you were an undercover nerd. no one really knew about your nerd activities. “That sailor moon T-shirt says otherwise baby.” you throw a couch pillow at her which causes a slight pillow fight between you two. 

The fun suddenly ends when you feel cold and sticky. The ice cream bowl knocked over on to you. you gasp in surprise and Wanda moves away from your quickly noticing the problem. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, shit! Yelena is going to kill me; this is her shirt.” Wanda would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous of you wearing someone else’s clothes. 

“Hey, don’t worry I can wash it and she’ll never know. just let me go get you a shirt and I’ll be back.” you nod your head in agreement, as Wanda leads you to the back of her apartment where her small washing machine and dryer were located. Wanda goes into her room searching her drawers for the perfect shirt. you wait until she leaves to remove your shirt. when Wanda finally finds the shirt, she wants to see you in, she turns to her cracked door and the display of you in your black lace bra is enough for her to combust right then and there and she can only see your back. you stand there facing her washing machine wondering what’s taking her so long to find a shirt. you were just about to ask her If everything was alright before you felt her presence behind you. 

“About time you-” your words stopped in your throat when you tried turning around to face Wanda. she held you in place. “I really tried to be on my best behavior princess, but I don’t think you know what you do to me.” she husks heavily in your ear. she sounds like she’s been running a marathon and all she did was search for a shirt. 

“Did you find the shirt?” you clear your throat and try to change the subject, but Wanda wasn’t having it. 

“Forget about the damn shirt.” Her hands start to roam your body. her lips peck your neck. her teeth graze your skin and her tongue glides over the stinging pain.

”Wan-” every move she makes has you damn near cumming on the spot especially with your heighten senses from smoking. it kicked in rather fast you weren’t a pro like Wanda but you could still hold your own. at least until tonight.

“Shhh.” she shushes you and kisses your neck while her hands slither to the front of your body. your breath hitches when she massages your breast and grinds into you causing your eyes to go wide. you feel the bulge on your ass. Is that what she was doing in there? her fingers play with your nipple while her other hands drifts down to your zipper, she trying to take things slow but let’s be real you’ve been teasing her and blue balling her for days now. she can feel your internal panic trying to calm you down. she gives you reassuring comfort. 

“Just relax for me.” she kicks your feet apart. wanting to have you spread open as wide as you possibly can. she dips her fingers into your pants teasingly rubbing your folds against your panties she feels how wet you are. “Oh, princess have you been wet this whole time?” 

she pulls her finger out. “You’re making a mess already and I haven’t even touched you yet. it’s okay, I’m going to clean it up.”