#thirty minutes of just gushing and loosing my mind

[theguffbin]

AAAAAAAAASHHHJHHNJVFFFDHF

IT CAME AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL AND LOOK AT IT AAAA ITS THE BOI

So happy with how this came out god, its such a treat for my eyes seeing the Famicom box art back in high quality and in such a beautiful package. It's not perfect but goddamn I don't care I love everything here so much and there's still a lot of fun little details that just make me screm :'D

Crazy to think it took decades to get here, through years of pc emulation and third party repros, by word of mouth and passion from fans and developers alike..... for a while I was sure it would be forgotten eventually.

But we made it. It feels unreal but Gimmick finally has official, physical release again and that's so fucking awesome :')

[pixelated-pogues]

Savior (j.m)

Request: heyy i was wondering if you could maybe write a jj X reader where rafe tries to hurt you/ kidnap you and jj saves you. i love your writing by the way!!! Pairing: JJ x reader Summary: Rafe gets a little too comfortable at Midsummers and JJ cuts in to take care of his girl. Warnings: Cursing, foul play

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You stare at your reflection in the mirror with a neutral expression, taking in every seamless detail of your makeup, your hair that was curled in pinned to perfection, and the lilac satin dress that contrasts nicely with your sun-kissed skin. You look good, you mentally admit as you finish the look with your favorite lipgloss, but midsummers is your least favorite event of the year and there's something inside of you telling you that this year will not be an exception.

Maybe it's the endless sea of kooks pooling together in one place, trying to one-up each others accomplishments and outfits, or maybe it's the way that your parents always unapologetically try showing you off to the parents of the islands upcoming rich assholes that they'd love for you to end up with. Either way, you cannot stand it.

"Why are you looking at yourself like that?" Sarah's voice questions as she comes into the view of the mirror behind you. Her arms wrap over your shoulders in a loose hug while her eyes meet the reflection of your own, a curious expression adorning her face at the sight of the slight pout on your lips. "You look stunning." You smile fondly at your best friend, but release a gentle sigh in response, gazing back at the mirror again.

"Yeah," you agree, handing her the flower crown resting on your vanity so that she can fasten it into your hair with bobby pins. "I just wish it wasn't a kook requirement to attend tonight. I'd much rather be on the dock with the boys." Sarah nods in understanding, softly placing the crown on your head and getting to work with the pins.

"You'd rather be at the dock with JJ," she corrects, her voice slightly muffled by the bobby pins clasped between her lips. "I get it, I'd be lying to you if I told you that that isn't where I'd rather be myself, but it's one night, Y/n. One night to get dolled up, steal expensive wine, and act like we give a shit about business plans and college visits to appease the older generation on the island. It'll be over before we know it. Plus, John B told me that the boys are going to be there to help Heyward with catering so we can hover around them when everything else is too boring. So, turn the frown into a smile and help me put my crown on, Gerard is going to be here with the car in thirty minutes and you know how Rose gets about pictures."

You roll your eyes at her words but move so she can take your spot on the small bench. You mindlessly situate her crown on her head and get to work.

"I swear to God, if she makes me take pictures with Rafe again this year I'm going to combust," you state, rolling your eyes at the memory of her forcing you and Rafe to act like a couple last year. "When will she get it into her thick skull that that's never going to happen?" Sarah giggles at your genuine annoyance, knowing fully well how you feel about her brother.

"But Y/n, you guys will have the cutest babies," she gushes, manically giggling when you shove her shoulder to keep her from saying anything else. "I cannot wait to be a grandmother to the hottest babies on the island one day." Your eyes roll into the back of your head at her words, momentarily flashing back to the conversation Rose had with the photographer last year.

"Some nerve she has," you sneer, fastening the last pin into her hair. "God, I'd rather die than imagine getting close enough to Rafe for him to even think he has a chance of getting me pregnant. The audacity that that women has." Sarah stands up, giggling at your dramatic antics but wordlessly agreeing with everything you said. "I still can't believe she said that right in front of us."

"She's got a mind of her own," Sarah agrees, taking a look at her final look in the full length mirror by her bed. You watch her silently for a few moments before she's dragging you to stand next to her, slinging her arm over your shoulder in the process. "We look hot, babe." You're rolling your eyes at her statement, but nod in agreement.

"I hate to admit it, but you're right. Lord, keep the boys from getting into any violent altercations with rich boys that don't know how to keep their eyes to themselves," you jokingly pray, locking your hands together in front of you while you stare up at the ceiling.

"Please," Sarah seconds, grabbing her phone off of her bed to snap a few photos for her instagram story. You take several pictures together, your poses growing more and more goofy with every photo. It isn't long before Rose comes knocking on the door insisting that it's time for photos, earning a knowing glance from the two of you.

"Y/n, your parents are nearly here so you'll be taking photos with them as well. We'll all be riding together this year because your usual driver cancelled last minute," Rose fills the two of you in as you walk down the stairs to meet the rest of the Cameron family.

"Oh joy," you smile at her with a sarcastic undertone, cringing when Sarah's elbow sharply crashes into your ribcage as a way to tell you to cut it out. "Thanks for the update Rose." You stick your tongue out at Sarah as your feet hit the bottom of the steps, your focus shifting to Ward as the rest of the family comes into view.

"You look beautiful girls," he coos, pressing a soft kiss against Sarah's forehead, before giving me a small hug. "You'll surely capture the attention of the whole island when you walk in."

Sounds like a dream, you want to spout off but refrain this time, knowing that you'll have both the Cameron's and your family on your back for being too mouthy. So instead, you shoot him a tight-lipped smile, slightly tightening your hold on Sarah's arm for support. She squeezes yours back, shooting you a reassuring smile before all of you head outside for photos.

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

"You look hot, Y/n," Rafe's voice wafts into your ear, his breath fanning down your neck due to how close he is to you. The interaction sends negative chills crawling down your spine while you try to hold your smile for the camera in front of the two of you. Rose had, in fact, forced the two of you to take pictures together again this year, which you couldn't protest to due to your mother basically shoving you into his arms upon Rose's request. "Way too hot to be spending all your time with Maybank."

You rip yourself away from his grasp with a tight glare as soon as the photographer announces that he's got plenty of couples pictures. "Way too hot for you to think you have any inkling of a chance with me after all the shit you've pulled with my friends," you spit, resisting the urge to give him the finger.

"Oh come on Y/n, the entire island knows that we're destined to be together. It's only a matter of time before that lowlife ends up in jail and you're crawling to me to be with the one that really deserves you," he presses, his voice low as he trails closely behind you, gripping your arm so that you'll look at him.

"Don't flatter yourself, Cameron. I'd rather drink bleach than end up with you," you sneer, tearing your arm from his grasp, feeling accomplished by the way his ego physically takes a hit at your words. With that, you're linking arms with Sarah and skipping to the limo without a second glance at Rafe.

To: JJ This thing hasn't even started and I'm already ready to go home. I'll see you in Kooklandia, handsome.

From JJ: I just know I'm going to melt at how good you look when you get here. Keep your chin up, I can't wait to hug you.

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As soon as you arrived at Midsummers, you'd barely been able to share a glance with JJ before you were whisked away by your parents to socialize with business partners and family members. Now you're two hours into pointless socializing, your feet are aching from your heels, and JJ's nowhere in sight. You had managed to sneak a few glasses of wine in the process, which has you feeling light and airy, swaying to the elegant Jazz music playing through the speakers the lawn.

"Mom, I'm going to go find JJ," you inform her, mentally praying that she doesn't have any objections to your statement, but before she can respond you feel someones hands resting on the small of your back, a vaguely familiar cologne wafting into your nose.

"Y/n, what do you say we catch a dance? It looks like you need a break," Rafe proposed, leaning so close to you that his lips brush against your ear, sending an uneasy shiver down your spine. You open your mouth to object, but your mom beats you to it.

"That sounds like a lovely idea, Rafe," she gushes, the wine in her system mixed with the toxic midsummers atmosphere making it easy for her to ignore your clear discomfort to give the rest of the islands rich assholes what they want. "It'll be just like when you two were young, dancing at your very first midsummers. You can spend time with your friends after the party, Y/n. Now go, you two."

You silently curse your mom as Rafe whisks you away to the dance floor, making a point to grab another glass of wine on the way. Your eyes scan the crowd, itching to find JJ, Sarah, or anyone else in the friend group in hopes that they'd see what Rafe was up to and cut in so you didn't have to deal with it, but to no avail.

"Oh come on, Y/n, I can't be that bad," Rafe murmurs, pulling your hips against his with slight force. "Besides, I've seen the way you look at me when no one else is around. You can cut the hard to get act, I know you want me."

You scoff at his words, making a point to take a long drag from the glass in your hands. "God, you really are dense Rafe. The cocaine must be getting to you because if I even spare you a glance, and that's a big if, it's nothing more than out of malice and disgust. I wouldn't want you if we were the last two people on earth," you sneer, wincing when his grip tightens enough that his fingers dig into your hips painfully.

"You better watch the way you're talking to me, sweetheart. You and I both know that I've got your parents wrapped around my finger, one word from me and they'll kick your broke boyfriends ass to the curb so fast that he won't know what hit him," he threatens, dipping his head so that only you can hear his hushed tone. You push against his chest in an attempt to break free from the harsh grip he has on your body to no avail.

"Pulling the parent card to try and get your way? That's pathetically low Rafe, even for you," you chuckle, wincing when his grip tightens even further, surely leaving a bruise. In another attempt to jerk out of his arms, he jerks you even further, sending the dainty wine glass in your hands shattering against the concrete below your feet. You yelp at the noise, jumping at the glass that splatters against the soft skin of your feet, taking notice of the looks you'd gotten from those surrounding you.

"Sorry, she's a little tipsy," Rafe chuckles lightly to the surrounding couples, shooting them a lighthearted smile. "I told her to lay off the wine, but she wouldn't listen." His smile drops as soon as his attention turns back to you, a look of annoyance replacing his features. "You better watch it, Y/n."

"Let me go, Rafe," you demand, wriggling against his embrace in another attempt to break free. The pressure of his fingers against your body forcing anxious tears to prick at the back of your eyes, your movements becoming more drastic. "Let go-" You're town away from his grasp before the words finish rolling off of your tongue, a glimpse of dirty blonde locks coming into view.

"Who the hell do you think you are putting your hands on my girl Cameron?" JJ barks, shooting the older boy an icy glare while securing you in his own embrace. You fist the front of his button-down shirt, focusing on steadying your erratic breaths while the two stand tall, puffing their chests out.

"Look at that," Rafe laughs humorously, inching closer to the two of you. "The dirty pogue comes to save his pathetic little slut, how swee-"

Just like that, JJ's launching himself at Rafe, his fist colliding against his jaw with a sickening noise as you stumble backwards, getting caught in someone else's embrace to keep you from hitting the ground due to the momentum of JJ's movements. Gasps errupt in the crowd as Rafe falls to the floor, dragging JJ down with him, each of them throwing a mess of punches.

"Shit," John B's voice sounds from behind you, making your head warily snap towards him. You catch his gaze, just before he spins around in search of Pope. "Yo Pope, we have a situation." That's when he moves to drag Rafe off of JJ once Rafe finally takes the upper hand, while you watch in silence as everything around you spins. Pope comes into view then, just as Kie and Sarah are dragging you off of the ground with gentle expressions, doing a quick once over to make sure you're physically okay before ushering you towards the Twinkie with quick feet, the boys sprinting after you with security guards hot on their trail.

"JJ, what the fuck," Kie exclaims as soon as you're all throwing yourselves into the van.

"Drive, JB, drive," Pope shouts, ignoring Kie's statement, taking notice of the security rushing closer to the car.

"Shit, shit, shit," John B spews, reaching for the keys he'd dropped on the van floor in the rush to slam them into the ignition. "I'm going, I'm going." He slams the van into gear, sending the tires spinning against the stone road beneath them before you're all speeding down the road with wide eyes. Everyone's adrenaline pumping as you head towards the cut in an energized silence.

"JJ, what the fuck," Kie repeats, smacking her hand against his chest, earning a yelp from him. That's the first time you get a good look at him, your racing heart dropping at the sight of blood dripping from a gash just below his eyebrow. He ignores Kie's question and cuddles close to you, grabbing your face in his hands.

"Are you okay, baby," he questions, eyes scanning over your features for any noticeable blemishes from foul play. Your hands fall over his own, eyes filling with tears as the weight of the situation finally beats through your adrenaline. "I'm here. I've got you." He pulls you into his chest, ignoring the chatter from the rest of your friends, giving you his full attention while you melt into his embrace.

"I'm okay," you murmur, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "Just startled is all. Are you okay?"

You feel JJ smile, his arms snaking around a tender spot on your hip, earning a small wince from you.

"M fine baby. Just a few cuts and bruises, nothing we haven't seen before," he promises, kissing the crown of your head.

"My parents are going to kill us," you huff, to the entire car now rather than just JJ. "I'm never going to hear the end of the fact that I was the reason the kook party of the year got ruined."

"Rafe, is the reason that the kook party of the year got ruined, JJ stepping in just sped up the process. Honestly, the party was dull anyway, I think he did everyone a favor. At least now the rich side of the island actually has something exciting to talk about," John B interjects, earning several nods of understanding.

"Looks like JJ's the hero of the island after all," Pope smiles, clapping his friend on the back. "May never be able to step foot on Figure Eight again but no one will question whether or not he knows how to liven up a party." JJ merely rolls his eyes at their statements, but smiles proudly in agreement.

"Maybe that kook will think twice about putting his hands on my girl again," he gleams, sparing a glance down at you as he nuzzles closer to you. "Sarah, I don't know how you turned out so good having to deal with that prick your entire life."

She laughs at his words, a look of understanding crossing over her face. "Rafe's always been a prime example of a person that I've never wanted to be like. He's given me a life time supply of what not to do, so I guess he's partially to thank for me being a good person."

The Pogues laugh before falling into a gentle silence for the rest of the way back to the Chateau. Nuzzled into JJ's chest, you can't help but think over the scenarios of what could've happened had JJ not stepped in or if Rafe had managed to catch you in a more secluded area in which no one would've been there to intervene. The thoughts make you more aware of the dull throb in your wrist where his hands harshly held you captive, his words echoing through your mind like the melody of a song you hate.

The car pulls up to the house a short while later, allowing everyone to clammer out into the warm night while JJ holds you back, having caught onto the fact that you haven't fully been yourself since you got in the car.

"Hey," he breathes, nudging your head so that you'll look at him. "I know everyone was joking about what happened, but they weren't the ones being manhandled by that asshole. Are you really okay?" His eyes lock on yours, searching for anything that'll give him insight on what's roaming around in your head.

The way he's looking at you and the gentleness in his tone allow the thoughts and emotions to resurface, your heart sadly lurching at the concern etched across his face. "I've been better," you admit with a sigh, fighting the tears pricking at the back of your eyes. Partially due to the adrenaline wearing off and partially due to the heavy embarrassment at the fact that there was even a scene to begin with. "I just want to go to bed. Can we do that?"

"Of course baby," he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. "Lets go inside. You head to the guest room and I'll make sure everyone knows to keep the noise down so you can rest." With that, he's helping you out of the van. His hand never leaves the small of your back as you make the short trek to the porch and into the house. You utter quiet "farewells" to everyone as you brush past them to get to the guest bedroom, wanting nothing more than to peel off the expensive dress and bask in the comfort of JJ's clothes. JJ hangs behind to talk to the Pogues for a few minutes while you get comfortable in the next room. You hear their hushed voices while sliding out of your dress, quickly replacing it with your favorite pair of sweats and one of his old t-shirts.

"I think she's okay, just really shaken up," JJ's voice barely rings through the walls as you're climbing into bed. "We're going to lie down, you guys do what you do, just keep the noise down so she can sleep. Thanks for being the getaway driver JB, I owe ya one man."

"You owe me a lot more than one with how many times I've helped get you out of shit man," you hear John B joke. "Take care of our girl." Footsteps ring through the house as you climb into bed, making sure to flip the lamp on so he can see once he gets into the room. He makes a quick stop in the bathroom to clean the blood off of his face before walking into the room; wordlessly discarding his own clothes and sliding a pair of sweatpants on before taking his spot in bed so he can wrap you in his arms again.

"Hi," he greets softly, pulling your back flush against his chest.

"Hi," you whisper, releasing a gentle hum when his hand starts running through your hair. You nuzzle into a calming silence, JJ's fingers moving from your hair to the exposed skin of your arm to trace imaginary shapes. After a few moments of quiet, you speak again. "Thank you. I didn't even know you were anywhere close enough to see what was happening, but I'm glad that you stepped in. Although I wish the shiner your going to have tomorrow could've been avoided."

"I'll gladly take a beating every day if it means you feel safe," he dismisses, his fingers pausing on the light bruise forming on your delicate skin. "Did he do this?"

"I think so," you admit, silently hating the fact that he's so concerned about one bruise when he walked out of the night with significantly more damage. "He just grabbed me a little too tight is all, it's not a big deal."

"But it is a big deal. He shouldn't have had his hands on you at all," he grumbles, tracing his fingers over the blemish. "No man should every lay a violet finger on a woman." You roll over to face him, grabbing his face in your hands so that he'll look at you.

"He shouldn't have," you agree, sending him a soft smile. "He should be able to register the years worth of "no's" that I've given him, but he can't. It doesn't matter though, at the end of the day, I'm here with you and that's all I really care about."

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A/N: This ended abruptly but we can just ignore that. This was requested forever ago and I'm finally finishing it. I hope someone enjoys <3 Taglist: @thelocalpogue @maaybanks @drewstarkey @ssjiara @bluebirdsbluebells @maebanks @poguemackin @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @outerbongs @ilovejjmaybank @marvel-writer @astrydis @hijohnd @pogueslandia @livinfullpogue @ifonlyyoucouldseeme @kookkyra @osterfield23 @milkiane

[donutloverxo]

Forever

*gif is not mine*

Note - this is for @buckyownsmylife 's 2k celebration and birthday. Congrats and happy birthday! I've never done a breeding kink so it's very new to me but I hope you like it.

Dividers by @whimsicalrogers

Summary - You've been in a secret relationship with Steve for two years. What happens when he tells you he wants to be with you forever?

Warnings - 18+ ONLY PLEASE, smut, breeding kink, sir kink, cum play, anal play, d/s relationship, deepthroating, boss/employee relationship, loosely edited.

Pairing - CEO!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2.6k

You watched him carefully, on the edge of your seat to see how he’d react, although you had a pretty good idea of what he’d say.

“Mm,” Steve made a face, scrunching his nose up, “What is this?”

“Why, it’s pumpkin spiced latte!” you gushed, “Starbucks most popular drink,” trying to hold in a giggle to not give away your little scheme of annoying him.

“I--that’s not my drink, doll,” he frowned.

“Yes! I remember, your drink is iced black coffee, no sugar or cream. I’ve been working for you for two years, sir, it'll be pretty hard to forget.”

“Then why did you get--whatever this is?” he put the cup on his desk, too disgusted to even hold it in his hand.

“I thought you’d like to try something new! Be a bit more adventurous!”

It’ll be pretty hard to get your sir to be anything like that. He has always been so uptight and set in his ways, he had a rigid routine, a clean and proper house which was frankly kinda boring looking which is why you refused to live with him. He had asked you so many times. But you always refused. There’s no way you could live in a house that looked like it was taken out of a magazine catalogue. Where you’d be afraid to even eat anything on or near his expensive and spotless furniture. You’d probably murder him in a month or so.

But maybe he can be more open to other possibilities, he was with you, he should adopt maybe a little bit of your personality as you had done his.

“I’ve got all the adventure right here,” he smiled, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, putting his cheek on the softness of your stomach.

“Hm, your next meetings in thirty minutes,” you hummed as you felt his fingers massage your hips, tempted to run your hands through his golden hair but not wanting to mess it up or make him look sloppy for his important meeting.

“Well, princess, I didn’t have my coffee so now my days off to a bad start. How will I sit through a meeting with Tony Stark? It’s impossible to keep up with that man.

“Um...” you bit your lip, “I didn’t really think of that... maybe I’ll go run and get you a new one right now!”

He chuckled, shaking his head at your naiveté, you were too innocent for you own good, even after being with him and doing the most depraved of things for so long.

He leant back in his chair, spreading his legs, “There is a way you can make it up to me and help me clear my mind.”

You blinked for a moment trying to process his words, “Oh,” you let out when you realised what he meant. “I’m, but...”

“What?”

“My implants expired. I need to get a new one, I’ve got an appoint in two days and I don’t want to take a chance...” you trailed off. There was no way you’d make him come in a condom or anywhere that wasn’t inside you either. So sex was off the table.

“Doll, you need to use that brain of yours sometimes, I know you can, you’re so much more than a pretty face,” he taunted you.

His harsh words really shouldn’t make your panties wet, so much so that you could feel slick running down your thigh but they did.

“You act as if you’ve got just the one hole,” he gave you a faux pout, a hand trailing up your thigh, up your skirt and past your stockings, “I can just use your mouth

....or your ass.”

“What? My ass?” you jumped, wanting to get away from him but he firmly held onto your hip.

You were well aware of his unhealthy obsession with your ass. He had ate it and fingered it, made you wear all sorts and colors of butt plugs so many times, sometimes even in the office. But you absolutely refused to take his dick up your ass.

Nope. Never. Absolutely not. No. Nada.

No matter how many times he’d ask for it, you were not taking his nine inch dick up your poor small ass.

“Relax, doll,” he grinned, “Get to work. I don’t have much time,” he motioned to his bulge.

You simply nodded, quickly scrambling to get on your knees. There were many ways to have sex than the good ol' penis in vagina--even if that was your personal favorite. You could just blow him for the next couple of days and ride his face.

It was honestly ridiculous how you literally couldn’t go just two days without his dick.

You were using your hands to pump his throbbing shaft, giving light kitten licks to his tip to rile him up and to maybe get a taste of your favorite creamy goodies.

“No hands,” he commanded.

And you almost whined. He always does this! Ruins your fun by taking away control from you.

“Not fair!” you mumbled, putting your hands behind your back as he held onto your face to properly use it.

“I decide what’s fair and what’s not, princess,” he stated, pushing your head down on him.

Lifting his hips up, cooing when you choked on him, tears streaming down your face and ruining your sweet makeup.

He tutted, brushing them away with his thumb, “Look at me, doll,” he told you and like the subservient secretary that you were, you immediately looked up. “What the fuck do you spend thousands of dollars on Sephora for if you can’t even get waterproof makeup?”

You frowned in confusion because you didn’t he if he was seriously asking or not. Did he expect you to answer? With your mouth full of dick?”

It wasn’t surprising that he knew what you spent money on, he let you spend as much money as you wanted on anything you liked, but he insisted on having a joint account so you both could be transparent with each other.

He shushed you when you tried to speak--to explain that you’ll try a better mascara next time.

“You look so pretty with your face stuffed,” he groaned, his hips stuttering as he emptied his load in your mouth.

You swallowed it all, knowing well and good by now that sir didn’tlike it when you let anything go to waste, “Thank you, sir,” you smiled up at him as you popped his dick out of your mouth. “I’ll go clean up.”

“You go do that. And remember to be at my place at seven sharp for dinner.”

“Yes sir,” you answered as you tried to stand on wobbly legs.

💍💍💍

He looked at the ring in the turquoise blue box, so bright and shiny and beautiful, so much like you. A big diamond with smaller ones on the band. He was sure you’ll love it. With the fortune that he had spent on it--you have to.

He just wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.

Or how he should go about asking you.

He couldn’t do it at a public restaurant. Even after all this time your relationship was still very much a secret. If people found out you’d have to stop being his secretary. And he wasn’t sure he could bear going so many hours everyday without you. YOU were his life now. How did he ever even live without you?

“Guess who,” he smiled when he heard your sweet voice, and felt your soft hands over his eyes, closing the box in his hand on instinct.

“Oh my god!” you squealed, removing your hands and jumping up and down in mirth, “Is that Tiffany’s?! Is it for me!”

All the screeching and the screaming made him flinch, he got up from his chair, turning around to see you, “Who else would it be for, doll?”

You squealed again, clapping your hands, you tried to snatch it away from him but he held it away, making you frown. You whined like a petulant child when he held it above his head, too tall for you to get your hands on.

“Sir!” you stomped your foot.“Please give it to me! What is it?” you jumped, hoping to snatch but with Steve being over a foot taller than you, it proved to be difficult.

“Uh... honey, you’ll have to wait a bit...” he had planned on cooking a five course meal for you and asking over candle lights, but you decided to show up over an hour early.

You stopped your ministrations, your lip wobbling, “Why...”

He sighed, his heart breaking at the mere thought of upsetting you, “You just have to, princess. Do you trust me?”

You nodded without a second thought. You most definitely did.

“Then you’ll just have to wait.”

💍💍💍

“Oo sir...,” you moaned, pushing on his wide shoulders when you felt his tip brushing against your pussy lips, “Not on birth control. Remember? Just... um.. just.”

He released your nipple from his mouth with a loud, obscene pop, his elbows on either side of your face as he looked down at you, “Just what, princess?”

“Just... um... well could you just eat my pussy tonight? I was so good in the morning to you!” And you missed having his talented tongue on you. Even though you were pretty sure he made you pass out by eating you out just two days ago.

“Of course I can, princess, you know I love the way your cunt tastes.”

Your cheeks heated up as he moved you onto your stomach, propping your hops up with a pillow.

Shivers running down your spine as he pressed kisses to it with his soft lips, over your butt before biting it and making you gasp.

“Love how I can pull all those sounds out of you,” Steve mused. There was no way in hell he could ever be with anyone who wasn’t you. He looked up at your empty hands, how he should have out a ring on it ages ago. He can’t let you go.

He wanted to do this forever. To be with you forever. What was he even waiting for?

“I want to give you my name,” he blurted.

You looked back at him over your shoulder, meeting your lust blown dark eyes, “Huh?” you asked, not sure that you heard him right.

“Mrs Rogers. It has a nice ring to it don’t you think?”

“Um, yes, maybe,” you immediately pushed your head into your pillow, too shy to even look at his beautiful face.

You had thought about being Mrs Steve Rogers the moment you met him. You loved the idea of being his wife and bride. You liked practicing your signature with his name, write your name along with his whenever you wanted to doodle or pass time. He had caught you more than once but never mentioned it.

Since he didn’t even want to tell others about your relationship, you doubted he’d want that kind of life long commitment.

Which was okay. For now.

It sucked but you were never going to beg him or even ask him to marry you.

“Are you just teasing me? If so... then that’s very cruel.”

You knew he wouldn’t play with your feelings like that but then why would he bring that up out of nowhere?

“You know I never lie, sweetheart,” he said, spreading your cheeks to reveal your glistening cunt and your small hole to him. “In fact I think I should prove it to you. Pump you full of my come tonight and knock you up.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked back at him, stuttering over your words and gaping at him like a goldfish.

“What? Are you serious?”

“Hopefully I can we can conceive tonight itself.”

“I – uh – I don’t wanna be pregnant on my wedding day, I don’t want anyone thinking that it’s a shotgun wedding or that I’m trapping you,” you stammered.

“Then we can get married in a month, or even a week. I can’t wait anymore. I want a family with you, I want the whole world to know that you’re mine.” What better way to do that then to literally make you round with his child?

Before you he hadn’t really given having kids any thought. But now he knew he wanted to have a little you. He imagined having just one kid with you. He wasn’t too keen on sharing you so maybe one would be more than enough.

But he hadn’t thought about this aspect of it. The trying phase. How he'd get to keep you full of his cum till you got pregnant.

And how much more beautiful you’d look when you were round with his child, carrying his seed.

“Uh, okay,” you whispered you couldn’t really think straight, it was all happening so fast, but there was one thing you knew for sure--this was all that you ever wanted. To be married to the love of your life and to have his kids.

“What? You’ll have to speak up, doll.”

“Yes, sir, I want to have a baby with you. I want us to be married. Please make me yours,” your eyes watery as you bore yourself to him.

He smiled, moving up to press a kiss to your temple, “That’s all I needed to hear,” he promised.

Turning you to your back, “Wanna see your face when I come in your pussy, doll.” He told you.

Your face was heating up, with the way he was looking at you--as if you were the most precious thing he had ever seen, you couldn’t bear to keep facing him but decided to look into his eyes, dig your nails into his biceps as he entered your channel.

“You’re squeezing me so tight, doll, will make me come, ugh,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours once he was completely sheathed in you. He wrapped you up in his strong arms, slowly rocking into you.

“Steve,” you whimpered, “wanna come...”

“I got you, baby,” he hushed you, pecking your lips before being his hand down between your bodies to roll your bud, which had you squeezing him even tighter.

Your entire body quivered as you clenched around his length, gushing all over him. Laying limp in his arms as he started fucking into you.

“You’ll make such an amazing mother... your titts,” he looked down at them, bouncing due to the force of his hips driving into yours. He latched his lips onto a hardened nipple, imagining them fuller and heavier.

“They’ll be even bigger, your hips too...” he whispered against your skin, his nails digging into your skin, sure to leave scars.

“Oh... you’d... you’d...” Make good dad too. He had all the qualities it took to be a good father. And where he lacked you flourished.

You sighed, feeling his warm cum fill you up, he stayed inside you, a leg between and under yours as he laid on his side.

Wiggling his hips to make sure his softening cock was as deep as it could be, so his spend would stay inside you. He collected some that leaked out of your joined sexes with his fingers, bringing it up to your mouth, “Don’t let it go to waste, sweetheart.” As you eagerly sucked his fingers clean.

“Hopefully it takes,” he said, drawing random patterns on your stomach.

“Mhm, guess I can cancel my appointment...” you murmured before drifting off to sleep.

💍💍💍

You yawned widely, sitting up and stretching out all your limbs, aching so painfully since Steve was hell bent on keeping you full of his seed, you could still feel it seeping out of you, he made love to you three more times before he finally let you get some shut eye.

Something sparkly caught your eye, you looked in at your hand and the diamond on it. Smiling in awe at just how lucky you were.

“Wonder if it worked,” you said to yourself, rubbing hand over your tummy.

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[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room. 

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with. 

“Work trip? To Miami?” 

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?” 

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing. 

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention? 

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock. 

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed. 

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything. 

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest. 

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.” 

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….” 

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?” 

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.” 

He was not serious. He couldn’t be. 

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no. 

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.” 

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you. 

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?” 

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem. 

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. 

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had…. 

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you. 

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well. 

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts. 

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure. 

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you. 

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all. 

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you. 

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point. 

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--” 

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you. 

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he? 

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth. 

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!” 

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy. 

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--” 

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!” 

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining. 

“Fuck!” 

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….” 

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin. 

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest. 

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.” 

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go. 

[jean-kayak]

As a Greek mythology nerd, can I request hc’s of Dabi, Mirio, Kirishima, and Todoroki reacting to their black crush having a Gorgon quirk? She has locs that can turn into snakes, her quirk works when she glares at someone to turn em to stone but if she glares too long; she temporarily blinds herself so her snakes help with her senses, and she has slit eyes and a snake tongue that she jokingly hisses with at times. Sis is a bit self conscious of her quirk since people fear/discriminate mutant quirk types so she’s worried about being an embarrassment to her partner

A/N: Here you go anon, I hope you like it! Also, I made Todoroki's so long lmfao

🔵He doesn't even care about how you look

🔵And I mean like, your appearance literally doesn't bother him at all

🔵When you first met, it was late at night, and he scared you

🔵Your back was to him, so your first instinct was to activate your quirk, the snakes looking his way as you froze

🔵"Holy shit, that's pretty cool."

🔵"Who are you?" you ask defensively, keeping your back towards him

🔵"Someone who's not gonna hurt you."

🔵You scoff. "Yeah, right. One look at you and I can turn you to stone," you declare, your threat responded with a chuckle

🔵"No shit." You debate in your head if you should turn around, but if you run it could be worse for you

🔵But from his words and his demeanor, it doesn't really seem like his goal is to cause you harm

🔵You slowly turn around, your snakes turning back into hair, your eyes finally landing on him. "What do you want?"

🔵"For starters? Your number."

🔵And that's how your relationship started, mostly Dabi convincing you that there's nothing wrong with your quirk

🔵And there's nothing wrong with you, and that he will be the last person to ever judge anything about you

🔵His crush on you is pretty obvious considering the fact that he keeps popping out of nowhere, asking you different questions about your quirk and what you can do

🔵One day, he makes a joke wondering if you could make only his dick turn to stone

🔵And you give him a crazy look as you shake your head before you hiss at him softly

🔵"Did you just hiss at me?" You didn't even realize it, quickly recoiling into yourself, and he scoffs at you fondly, grabbing your hand loosely to turn your attention back towards him

🔵"Babe, I told you. I don't care, and it doesn't bother me. I like you, okay? And your quirk is awesome. I mean that."

☀️He was on patrol one day when he first met you, seeing you surrounded by a group of people cornering you towards the wall

☀️"What's going on over here?"

☀️Everyone freezes, all of them slowly turning around, and his eyebrows raise when he sees someone standing in the middle

☀️Your back is against the wall, your head down. "Well?"

☀️They don't say anything, and within the next few seconds they're quickly walking away

☀️The whole interaction confuses him, but he's more focused on you, turning his attention towards you

☀️"Are you okay?" he asks gently, and you nod quickly, glancing up at him for a split second

☀️"Yes, yeah, I am. Thanks," you tell him, finally looking up at him

☀️He freezes for a second when your eyes finally meet his, and he's captivated immediately

☀️You blink at him, and it jumps him out of his temporary trance, realizing he was just staring at you and wasn't saying anything

☀️And he clears his throat. "Um, do you need me to walk you anywhere?"

☀️You give him a soft smile as you shake your head, pointing towards your left. "No, it's okay. The building I need to get to is right there. Thank you though."

☀️He's nodding his head, telling you to have a good day before you echo him and walk away

☀️For about the next few days, he purposefully patrols the area where he met you, hoping he can run into you again

☀️When he does spot you miraculously one day, he's quickly making his way over to you, calling out before he reaches you to not scare you

☀️A small smile forms on your face as he gets to you. "I just wanted to check--oh." Your face drops when he suddenly stops, and he cringes internally when he realizes he said that out loud

☀️"I'm sorry, it's just your eyes...are different." They don't look the same as when he first ran into you, and they look like average eyes

☀️You instantly curl into yourself as you huff softly. "They're contacts. My eyes kinda freaking people out cause they're weird-"

☀️"Unique." He cuts you off instantly, and you meet his gaze again. "I really like your eyes. They're beautiful."

☀️You can't help but smile as you feel your face grow warm. "And I would really like to take you out on a date if that's okay."

🔴Thinks your quirk is the coolest thing in the world

🔴He always saw that you would shy away slightly, and he asked you why

🔴Your response was that most people think you're a freak, explaining that you've been called worse names that you wouldn't like to repeat

🔴He's taken aback, anger stirring slightly in his chest at the thought of people being mean to you, and he makes it his mission to never make you feel that way again

🔴He's always asking you questions about your quirk, nearly gushing about what you can do and how awesome it is

🔴To the point where he doesn't even realize that he's got a massive crush on you

🔴He realizes when he compliments for probably the hundredth time that day, and you give him a fond look, your eyes making his heart flutter in his chest

🔴He suddenly starts to get really nervous around you and becomes very cautious about what questions he asked because he doesn't want to weird you out

🔴You notice this like immediately because you're so used to him throwing questions at you

🔴When you ask him about it, he chuckles softly as he rubs the back of his neck

🔴"Can, uh," he trails off, his face going warm, feeling dumb now, but he's already started so he might as well finish. "I touch your hair?"

🔴You raise your eyebrows in surprise, and he starts talking before you can answer

🔴"I know it's weird, and I probably just made you really uncomfortable. But I just think it's cool that you can just make it come alive, and now it's really awkward--"

🔴You cut off his rambling with a chuckle as you step closer to him. "It's okay, Eijirou."

🔴You hold out one of your locs, and he carefully runs his fingers over it, and he jumps slightly when it slowly turns into a snake, coming to life in front of his eyes

🔴"God, you are so amazing," he breathes in awe not even realizing what he said

🔴"It's crazy how much I like you." Now that is what makes both of you freeze, and his eyes widen his mouth falling open slightly as he wishes a hole would come in and swallow him

🔴"You what?" you chuckle slightly, turning your head to face him, the snake turning back into your hair

🔴His face is crazy red, but then he thinks, what does he have to lose? "I really, really like you."

🔴And he's practically through the roof when you confess the same thing, and when you agree to go on a date with him

❄You were a barista at the cafe he always went to before he went to work, and he was immediately drawn to your eyes, and he always caught himself staring for just a beat too long whenever you would hand him his drink

❄One day he happens to catch you sitting at one of the tables, so he decided to take a chance and sit with you, starting up a conversation, and he had checked the time on his phone, realizing he was going to be late for work, but for whatever reason, he couldn't find himself to care

❄The only reason why he left was because you had to get to work, but he started making it a priority to get there early so that he could talk to you for as long as he could, and Sero actually calls him out on it, tired of having to cover for him, and that's when Todoroki tells him about you

❄He nearly rambles on for thirty minutes, telling him about how cute it was whenever you would accidentally hiss when you talked really fast or if you were talking about something that was exciting to you

❄They're halfway through patrol when Sero cuts off his list with a chuckle, making Todoroki look at him in confusion. "What's so funny?" he genuinely asks, and Sero raises an eyebrow at him

❄"Because you have a crush, Shouto. It's like clear as day." He stops for a second before noticing that he was basically a broken dam the moment Sero asked him why he had been late for the past couple of weeks

❄He feels his ears go hot as he asks, "Well, what should I do?"

❄"Other than the obvious answer, which is ask her out?" Sero tells him, and he throws out multiple questions, still overwhelmed by the conclusion as he thinks about all of the things that he likes about you

❄Sero laughs softly before giving him some advice to help boost his confidence, and Shouto finds himself outside of the cafe right at closed, knowing that you're the one who closes

❄"Oh, Todoroki. What're you doing here?" He rubs his hands on his pants as before he answers

❄"I was just wondering if I could walk you home? If that's okay with you?"

❄You smile softly as you nod, locking the door before walking down the sidewalk. The walk isn't as awkward as he thought, the conversation flowing between the two of you easily before he notices something

❄"If you don't mind me asking, why're you wearing a sweatshirt?" Even though the sun is starting to set, the humid air is still lingering, and you have to be hot

❄The question immediately changes your demeanor, and he stops walking at your reaction. "Did I say something wrong? I'm sorry if--"

❄"It's my quirk," you start. "It scares people so I cover my hair to prevent that," you admit, feeling at ease with telling him

❄You start to take off the hood, and you stop his protests, telling him that it's okay. He watches as you take a deep breath and close your eyes, and he's in a trance when he watches your locs transform into snakes right in front of his eyes

❄He doesn't respond, and you start to get worried, but then he blurts out, "Can I touch them?"

❄You almost open your eyes in surprise before you chuckle softly as you raise your hand

❄You take his hand and bring it up to the snakes, and he scoffs in amazement as one of them darts its tongue across his finger

❄"This doesn't scare you?" you ask hesitantly

❄"I wanted to ask you out," he responds bluntly, and you deactivate your quirk, opening your eyes to look at him in surprise

❄"Really?" And a soft smile appears on his face as he nods

❄"Yes," he states firmly.

❄And you smile widely. "I'd love to."

[sylvie-writes]

Chain of Events

word count: 2500

pairing: andy barber x female reader

warnings: cheating, age gap, some profanity.

request: can i request a andy barber x fem!reader where the reader is his asisstant and his secret mistress (in mid 20s) which she always stick by his side and help him through jacob's trail. after the trail he divorced w laurie and they got marry and have a baby girl please!! thank you!!

a/n: sorry for the wait! i hope you enjoy lovely! ngl this really fueled my love for andy. 

please excuse any mistakes!

It wasn’t something you were proud of. Something that had started off as a night with a few innocent drinks paved the way for a never ending cycle. At times you felt dirty and awful, yet that didn’t stop you from going to see him every other night. Even when you had the slightest feeling that Laurie had a hunch, it didn’t stop you. Especially when things got dark for Andy, you were the one to hold him close and not his wife. It felt so right although extremely wrong all at the same time. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Currently, you were sitting in your apartment bed, spending your Friday night a bit differently than most. Rain gushed from the sky and rhythmically hit your bedroom window which you were spaced out on, many thoughts running through your mind and a glass of wine occasionally hitting your lips. Using your free hand you softly ran your fingers through the mop of hair that belonged to Andy who was passed out in your lap. His breathing was even and it did your heart good to see him so peaceful for once. Just two hours ago, he called you, sounding so broken and vulnerable which was out of the ordinary for Andy. The minute you answered the door, he flung himself at you and held you tight, whispering repeatedly “don’t leave me, please.” 

It absolutely tore you to pieces to hear him say that and you were quick to reassure him that it wasn’t even possible. You then lead him to the bedroom to ask what had happened. 

“Is everything alright? Talk to me, Andy.” You placed a set of his pajamas into his hands but not without a pleading look in your eyes when meeting his own sullen ones.

“Laurie’s adamant it’s him, but (y/n)-” Placing a finger on his lips, you hushed him. 

“I know, I know. You just have to ignore it okay? Laurie is just,” Pausing, you chose your next words wisely, “having a hard time with it all. Everyone copes differently.” 

He sadly nodded before standing to kiss your forehead and make his way to the bathroom to get changed and cleaned up a bit. 

The two of you continued to chat about Jacob’s trial once Andy returned from the bathroom, and he confided in you in many ways more than one. You’d never seen Andy so open, even with yourself, and clearly it helped him quite a bit as he was now relaxed. 

Time had flown and amongst your thoughts, one stood out to you in particular. When would Laurie start to question where he was? Andy always had some bullshit excuse ready to give her and would then tell you that it would be alright. Normally, before you had time to truly convince yourself, Andy’s lips would be on yours or his hands would caress you gently and you’d melt into him as did your cares. Except for now. 

The two had just gotten into a huge fight and you were sure Andy hadn’t even thought twice about telling her where he was going. Even if he did, Laurie would surely be on the lookout for his return. 

Carefully reaching over to your nightstand, you grabbed your phone to check the time and noticed that it was getting late. 

“Andy? My love, when do you have to go home?” You leaned down to whisper to the sleeping man who groaned in return. 

You repeated his name once more, this time slightly shaking his shoulder to which he rolled onto his back, a goofy grin on his lips as he looked up at you. “Well hello, honey.” 

From Andy’s point of view, you peered down at him like a disappointed mother but with a faint smile upon her lips at her child’s goofiness. 

“Nice of you to join me, sleeping beauty. I was wondering what time you had to get home. It’s starting to rain more heavily and Laurie-”

Andy sat up and turned himself so he’d be sitting shoulder to shoulder with you. Silently, he took your empty wine glass from your hand, leaning to place it on your nightstand. As he did so, he didn’t let go of your wrist, which he brought to his lips when he returned to face you. 

Murmuring against your wrist, he started to place soft and delicate kisses to the smooth skin there. “Don’t worry about it. I told her I’d be back tomorrow morning.” 

“But Andy, she knows you don’t have anywhere to stay.” You didn’t want to exactly say “Hey! Andy, you have no friends and your wife knows that!” but it was implied in a kinder way. Andy picked up on this, clearly deflecting when he just nodded in response and started to place more kisses up your forearm. 

Letting out a frustrated “hmph,” you let Andy carry on before he victoriously smiled at you.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The vicious cycle went on throughout the course of Jacob’s trial as things between Andy and his wife got worse. Even though they both lived under the same roof, slept in the same bed, and put on a facade for Jacob, they were practically separated. One night Andy drunkenly showed up on your doorstep, confessing how he had come home to find Laurie with another man. In a fit of rage he let the cat out of the bag that he had been seeing you. Funny how things work. 

You knew they were both wrong, so instead of shaming either one of them, you just let Andy cling to you for comfort. When Andy was drunk, he was like a big child and if the circumstances were different, you’d been laughing, but rather you soothingly rubbed his back and listened as that’s all he needed. Someone who would just listen.

At three in the morning, he most definitely needed you as well when you found his head in the bowl of the toilet and not sleepily nestled in your neck. (Which was ironic as the two of you would be switching places very soon.)

Christmas came quick and along with it, many miracles, one being that Jacob was not convicted.

Just as Andy was in a rush to tell you the news, Laurie was even faster to serve the divorce papers to him. In a relationship, you and your partner are supposed to be able to push through tough times without breaking. With that being said, Andy and Laurie mutually agreed that they had failed and it was time they both quit lying to themselves. It was time for real happiness. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“(y/n) meet me at our favorite restaurant in thirty minutes.”

You were working on some case files for Neil, despite your hatred for him, and tried to tell Andy that you were busy at the moment. He didn’t listen but continued to insist that you meet him there. His tone wasn’t demanding, but it was...excited? Surely, Andy had been excited over things in his life, but you’d never actually heard the usually emotionless man speak with such ardor. 

Setting down the case files, you rushed to put on some real pants and a blouse, but nothing too fancy or flashy as you had no idea what was about to happen. 

When you arrived at the restaurant, Andy happily flagged you over. He wore the biggest smile ever and you were borderline concerned. What could have him this happy? Was he getting back with Laurie? As much as you wanted them to be a functioning family, you weren’t sure if you could deal with such heartbreak because Andy really did feel like the one. 

Ever the gentleman, Andy pulled out your chair and handed you a small bouquet as you sat in the wooden seat. Before he walked away, the man planted a smack of a kiss on your lips and hurried back to his seat since he saw the waiter out of the corner of his eye. As the waiter approached, you were just sitting there, the most shocked expression on your face as it settled within you what Andy had just done. Long ago when this whole fiasco began, you and Andy always kept it professional when out in public because so many people knew him and word could get out easily that he was cheating. 

The minute the waiter left, you were quick to chastise Andy who just laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world which left you a bit angered. 

Since the restaurant was quiet, you extended yourself across the table so Andy could hear your harsh muttering. 

“Do you realize what you just did, Barber?!” Andy shook his head in a content manner and at this point steam was about to emerge from your ears. Before all hell could break loose and you go ballistic, Andy cut in to explain. 

“Jacob, he’s a free man!” Andy looked at you with an awaiting smile and your face immediately softened, but for only a second as that didn’t explain why he was parading your relationship out like this. Didn’t he know what he was risking, not only for himself, but you.

Your counterpart noticed the sudden change of expression on your face and continued, “But among other things, I meant to tell you that Laurie and I got divorced recently.” 

“Oh hon, I am so sorry.” Reaching across the table, you comfortingly ran your thumb over the back of his hand, but he just shook his head in detest.

“No no, it’s not a bad thing because it just opened the gateway for this,” Andy pulled his hand away and went to dig in his coat pocket. You thought to yourself, no he couldn’t be-

“(y/n), I’m gonna make this short, but sweet. You mean the world to me and I could spend all night listing off why I love you, but that will never do justice, so instead, I ask that you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?” 

His cliche, yet utterly adorable speech could make a person’s heart melt and instantly say yes, but you’ve always been a thinker, and maybe Andy had accounted for that a bit in his proposal. 

“Andrew! You just got divorced!” In a semi-whisper slash hiss, you bent over so only he could hear, hiding your words from the prying onlookers as if you had top secret info spilling from your lips. 

“I know, but, (y/n), you are the one.” He looked a bit awkward being on his knee for so long and the ring box still patiently in hand as you processed his question. Nonetheless, Andy continued to hopefully smile at you, ignoring all of the whispers, until you excitedly replied “yes” just a mere second later, though it felt like ages for him. 

This proposal was definitely gonna be a story for generations. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

You and Andy settled for a simple courthouse wedding with just your parents in attendance as witnesses. The two of you were never really used to flaunting your relationship, and even though you could now, it just wasn’t ideal. Besides, you had bigger things to worry about.

For example, when just a few weeks after your short-lived honeymoon, you noticed some changes and came to the conclusion that you were pregnant. 

One night, you casually brought up the idea of more kids to Andy to test the waters. 

“Hey love, you awake?”

Andy lifted his eyes from his book, no longer looking as if he was asleep. He nodded his head and set the book aside giving you his full attention. 

“What’s up, gorgeous?”

“I was thinking… what if we were to have a kid. Would you be opposed to that?”

The reaction on Andy’s face was most definitely not the one in mind and he looked as if you had asked him the most appalling question on earth. 

“(y/n), I love kids,” He chuckled a bit, “I thought I made that clear, you know, by being a dad and all.” 

His lame attempt at making a “joke” eased your nerves and you just came straightforward with the gold. 

“Andy, I think I am pregnant.” 

And faster than a predator can pounce, Andy was on you in seconds, his arms hugging you close as he whispered words of excitement. 

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Nine months later and that statement was very true as you held a bundle of joy in your arms. Your hours numb in pain couldn't even be compared to the gift that was before you. Andy could hardly keep his hands off your stomach for the past few months and he never failed to speak to your daughter as if she was actually there. Now that her presence was finally in the world, Andy was yet to look away from her small figure and his smile hadn’t withered the slightest. 

The nurse had stepped out a few minutes ago, giving both you and Andy some time and privacy with your newborn. Even though drowsiness overcame your body, you visibly forced yourself awake just to absorb all the time you could with her. Little ones grow up in a flash and you weren't going to miss a second if it was up to you.

Andy joined you in the hospital bed when you silently invited him in with a soft pat to the crinkly sheets. Once he snuggled up against your side, you carefully passed the little baby who was about to have her first contact with her father. 

As Andy played with her mini hands, you sleepily rested your head on his broad shoulder, watching the two and already figuring out that they’d be lifelong friends. 

“They always say with age comes wiseness, but darlin’, your momma gives that phrase a run for its money.”

You giggled at your husband’s words and propped up the little darling the smallest bit so she could “see” you and her dad. 

“Don’t listen to Daddy, munchkin. The grey in his beard says otherwise.” 

“Hey! I’m not that old, I was still able to knock-” Backhanding Andy’s leg caused him to dramatically cut his sentence short. There were plenty of years for him to taint your daughter’s innocence.

 As you observed the two, you noticed Andy gazed at her as if she hung the moon and stars for him, a familiar look he often gave you. Possibly from the lack of energy or just being enamored with the interaction, a sweet tear slipped from your own eye. Upon closer inspection, one could see that a subtle tear fell from the man beside you.

If Andrew Stephen Barber had known all those years ago he’d be here with a second chance at life, he would’ve never even waited another second to be with you. It’s funny how life can send you down the most twisted paths, yet have you come out with the most precious of gifts. 

 taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it​

a/n: what did you guys think? it feels like ages since i’ve written anything, and I am sure you can tell haha

if you are new here, check out my masterlist at the top of my blog for more Andy Barber (and Chris Evans characters) writing. I’d link it but tumblr always tag blocks me :( 

[steve-rogers-ruined-men-for-me]

Teach Me

Summary: Bucky’s worried about you overworking yourself at your teaching job. 

Warnings: some swearing, cute couple shit

Words: 2014k

A/N: this is my first full fic! I’ve really missed writing just for fun and I have a few more fic ideas and hc ideas in the works! please please please comment and let me know what you think! 

No matter what, you always came to bed when Bucky did. Sometimes you stayed up on your phone or reading but you always at least sat on the bed with him. He knew that you had a big week coming up, with your principal coming to observe you, midterms drawing closer, and your students struggling with the new curriculum the district was imposing. 

You were a high school English teacher and Bucky had met you when your school had put on an assembly about the history of the Avengers. He had noticed you in the back of the auditorium, wearing a soft blue dress and encouraging your students to ask him questions about his prosthetic. He shyly asked Tony to see if he could contact the school later and get your number. He had rolled his eyes at him and had walked up to you and asked in plain English, “The Manchurian Candidate over there wants to take you to dinner. If I set up the reservation and promise to make him show up, will you go?” Your jaw had dropped and you had numbly agreed. James Buchanan Barnes wanted to go on a date with you? Despite your doubts regarding the reality of the situation, you showed up outside the quiet Italian restaurant and the rest was history.

Bucky smiled at the memory of you dressed in a red silk jumpsuit with your hair braided back. You looked like a modern version of the girls he flirted with during the forties. Only, back then, he had been wondering how to get up their skirts but now he was more concerned with taking his time getting the jumpsuit off your gorgeous body. He felt a twitch between his legs and, smirking, shook the feeling off. He padded down to the kitchen, thinking you had gotten hungry. When that search yielded no you, he wandered through the rest of the downstairs. He noted that your car hadn’t left the driveway and checked the calendar on the fridge to see if he had the opening shift at the mechanic’s tomorrow (he mercifully did not). But he took note of how small your writing was on your to-do list for Monday. 

Feeling a pang in his chest, he remembered how he had begged you to let him have your full attention on Friday and Saturday.  While you’d reveled in your domestic bliss, by noon on Sunday, you had been buried in your office with your laptop, surrounded by books, papers, and highlighters. Smiling to himself, he realized where you were. He headed up to the attic loft, converted into your office. The walls were a soft gray and the couch the two of you had bought for your tiny first apartment was squeezed against one wall. 

Bucky’s heart tightened as he saw you sprawled on the couch, wrapped in one of his massive flannels. Your desk light was on and the desk was messier than he’d ever seen it. Your blinking phone alerted him to the fact that you’d set an alarm for midnight, but had been so tired you’d slept through it, a given considering you were working yourself to the bone and it was two a.m. Afraid to ruin your organizational system on your desk, he returned the pens and highlighters to the little decorative cups you kept them in, saved every file you had open on your laptop before closing it, and pushed the papers in imminent danger of falling onto the floor farther back on the desk. 

Content that he had lessened the burden of cleaning you’d have to do tomorrow, he crouched next to the couch. Gently smoothing a stray hair out of your face, he whispered, “baby...come on, get up, let’s go to bed.” You opened your eyes slowly and then jerked upright, sending your phone flying and Bucky scrambling backwards. 

“What time is it!” you cried, frantic. You ran towards your desk, frantically pinging your phone from your Apple Watch. Your clock on your desk blinked back 2:05 a.m. at you. Bucky picked up your incessantly beeping phone and handed it to you as you slumped in your desk chair, head in your hands. 

“I just wanted to get this stupid assessment plan done,” you whispered. You hugged his flannel tight around you as tears started to fall. Bucky turned your swivel chair so you were facing him as he knelt in between your legs. You dropped your upper body and rested your forehead on his shoulder as you sobbed. The weight of turning in grades, making assignments, checking in with your students to make sure they were doing okay, it was weighing on you. Bucky had noticed you sleeping less and drinking more coffee but hadn’t truly realized the toll it was taking on you. Kicking himself for making you spend time with him instead of alleviating your burdens at work, he pulled you out of the chair to sit between his legs, curling you into him and rocking gently. After a few minutes, you tilted your chin up and scooched back. Sitting criss cross between his legs, you cupped your chin and closed your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Buck,” you said sadly. You tugged on a loose button on your sleeve, looking like a lost puppy. Bucky knew how much you adored teaching and how much you loved your students. You were always baking treats for them when they did well on exams, buying bagels so that they could eat breakfast, and extending deadlines for the kids who worked. He knew that the American school system had changed since the 1940s and when you had shown him what you had to teach in a week and just how much time and energy went into lesson planning, he almost formed his own teachers union to advocate for you. 

When he found out your dismal salary, he had to take a walk. He spent an hour with Tony railing against your pay and the administrators who punished you for the test scores of students that you had no control over. Tony sat him down after an hour of not being able to get a word in edgewise and finally pledged to harass the local school boards (and the Board of Education if they would call him back) about raising teacher salaries. Bucky had walked home to you pouring over birthday cards your sixth period juniors had given you because they’d gotten a tip that it was your birthday. (Peter helped Bucky hack your Google Classroom). He felt a wave of pride come over him as he looked at you, his selfless girl, thrilled that she was having an impact on the kids she loved the most. You getting so down on yourself broke his heart. 

“What’s wrong with your assessment plan?” he asked, intertwining your hands with his. You looked up angrily. “What ISN’T wrong with it is a better question!” you cried. “The district made the test up and it’s on a fucking scantron because what fucking isn’t these days and it’s not taking into account the fact that school is not the main focus for so many of these kids that have to fucking work and help support their siblings and all they are is numbers on a fucking piece of paper that tells you nothing about the effectiveness of my teaching or the district’s ability to educate them as a whole!” Bucky blinked rapidly as you huffed. You didn’t get angry very often, but when you did and you started to monologue, he understood why you received a distinction with your English degree. 

“Baby,” he started gently, “can I ask you something you may not like?” He knew that you were a planner and that the odds were you were beating yourself up about a task that had taken your coworkers thirty minutes to do. You always wanted to do right by your kids but if you didn’t start sleeping and taking care of yourself, you were useless to everyone, including yourself. You looked up at Bucky through teary eyes.

“Are you going to ask me if the plan’s done and I’m just being picky?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky stood up, taking you with him. He pressed your frame against him, putting your arms over his shoulders and resting his hands on your waist. He stayed to sway slightly, trying to lull you back to sleep and to try to help quiet your mind. “I wouldn’t say picky I just...look. I’m being selfish. I want you to come to bed with me. I want you to play with my hair and whisper that you love me when you think I’m out cold asleep,” he gushed, noting the slight blush that crept up your cheeks. “You are incredible. Your admin are literally fucking stupid, doll. Nothing you do will change that. You are trying your best and if you think that your kids won’t benefit from the 12 different plans you’ve cooked up, then you’re crazy. Your kids don’t need a version 13, baby. They need you whole, in one piece, and ready to fight for them if they need.” He kissed your forehead, trying to ease your creased brow. Giving in to his ministrations, you sighed. You thought about how this plan should’ve probably only taken an hour. But then you rewrote the plan for the week based off of if your kids took a lot of time on the test, a little time, got anxious during it, caught on fire during it, committed larceny during the test and you had to contact the police. You knew it was overkill but you also knew that budget cuts were coming, contracts were up at the end of this year, and you and Bucky were saving to buy a house instead of living in a condo forever. 

“Buck?” you whispered. He lifted his chin off your head and looked down.

“Yeah, doll?” 

You felt the exhaustion settle into you all at once. “Can we go to bed?” 

Picking you up and putting you in a fireman’s carry, Bucky held you the whole way down to your bedroom. He pulled out a shirt of his for you to sleep in while you brushed your teeth and rinsed off in the shower. He walked in right as you were towelling off and he slipped it over your head with ease. He offered to blow dry your hair but you declined, favoring slipping into a warm sleep with him. He cuddled you close, forgoing asking you to play with his hair in favor of trying to hug all the pride he felt about you into your body via osmosis. Your head was resting soft on his chest, one arm curled protectively around his torso. His metal arm was tucked up and around your shoulders, keeping you comfortable. His flesh hand caressed your arm around him to remind you that he would always be there for you. He loved you more than anything. As your breathing evened and his hand on your side rose in gentle time with your breath, he decided that he was going to call Tony tomorrow. He knew a few people who owed him from his time as the Winter Soldier and if they didn’t want their dirty laundry exposed, dammit he was going to make someone in the district fix the stupid test until it worked how you wanted it to work. He hugged you closer to him, giving you one final squeeze before he started drifting off to sleep. He slipped into a dream where he was a professor and you a naughty schoolgirl and he had just convinced you to bend over to pick something up behind his desk when...a loud snore from you jolted him back to the reality of his exhausted teacher girlfriend wearing his baggy shirt, with hair going every which way. There was no plaid skirt here. Only love and admiration. Bucky kissed your temple and willed sleep to come again. 

[ssa-sugar-tits]

No One Special

Request: this one

Spencer x female reader where she’s a celebrity and they’re dating (secretly ofc) you can make it fluffy, angsty, whatever! ❤️

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Celebrity!Reader

Summary: You say in an interview that you aren't seeing anyone and inadvertently hurt your boyfriend, Spencer.

Content warnings: angst, swearing, insecurity, self-depreciation, crying, arguing/yelling, knife mention

Pattering, fitting rain adds to your gut turning mood as you try to figure out what you could possibly to say to Spencer. Deep seated guilt begs incessantly to make everything better but you just can't find the words good enough to fix what you caused a fragile crack in. You feel like there's a locked door in front of you and not a single key works.

~

"Here we are with Y/N Y/L/N!" Applause filled the room like a real life movie. You beamed and waved, showcasing your wide smile before you sat down.

"We are so happy to have you here with us." The interviewer, Missy Lakewood, grinned and turned to the eager audience. "Aren't we?"

More thrilling excitement showered the room, much to your appreciation.

"I'm happy to be here!" you chuckled at the sweet enthusiasm.

"Your last project was a big success and I'm certain your next one will be too." Smiling and allowing a lovely heat rise to the apples of your cheeks, she continued. "There is however one thing we don't really know about you. Is there a lucky someone charming our starlight sweetheart?"

~

Your bare feet pace around the floor of his empty apartment, sending chills to your core despite how warm it always is. You used the spare key to get in, planning to wait for him to come home. Spencer hasn't returned any of your calls or texts since the interview and it's leaving an intolerable burden on your back. But more importantly, you can't stand the thought of him being alone with his thoughts. He's never been good with his emotions-- he takes knives and stabs at his own gushing wounds. It had been his decision to keep your relationship private and you respect that but you took it too far this time. He must know how sorry you are, right?

~

"I see we're getting personal right off the bat," you joked. "If you must know... No, there isn't anyone special in my life at the moment.

"Well that is just everyone's loss, ain't it?" The belle joked. It didn't hit you until much later that you said what you said.

~

The door lock finally jingles and you jump with a horrible mix of anticipation paired with profound relief.

"Spence, I've been..." you trail off, your jaw dropping slightly when you see him. His usually dancing, filled with life but now red rimmed eyes look down to the floor.

"You're just letting yourself into my apartment now?" He exhales coldly. Taken aback, your lip quivers and you swallow the growing urge to cry.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You whisper.

"Did you mean it?"

"What?"

"When you said I was no one special. Did you mean it Y/N?"

The inescapable, sour taste of fear engulfs you. Opening your mouth to speak, you take in a sharp breath of air. And that's all it took, a split second of hesitation.

"Spence, how could you possibly think that?"

You're not even sure if you're audible, your avoiding words hovering in the air like a child afraid to step on glass.

"That's not an answer, Y/N."

~

Spencer was finishing up some paperwork when JJ strided into the bullpen, her new set of bright blue earrings swinging in the air, joyfully.

"Guess. What." She was smirking with eagerness and Emily gave in to her antics instantly.

"What is it JJ?"

"You owe me $40 and I'm getting a new pair of shoes!" She cracked a smile and awaited the brow-furrowed woman's response.

"Do I get to know why you're taking my money?" She retorted playfully, knowing it had to be one of the many bets they've placed.

"Y/N Y/L/N isn't dating anyone!"

Spencer stopped mid-breath and perked up to the women conversing, a lock of wild hair framing his face.

"What did you two bet on?" He asked, knowing the answer but wanting more explanation. He knew it was his decision to keep you a secret, there were too many threatening risks that came with his job and too many spotlight distractions that came with yours.

"Whether Y/N Y/L/N was dating anyone or not. Looks like JJ put me out $40," Emily explained, rummaging through her wallet. She turned to the still silently celebrating blonde. "So how exactly do you know this?"

"She was on that morning show, Good Morning with Missy, and Missy asked her if she was seeing anyone." She takes two twenty-dollar bills from Emily, going on with the story. "Y/N said, and I quote, 'No, there isn't anyone special in my life at the moment.'"

With eleven words, you managed to rip his fast beating heart out of his chest and crush it between your fingers. Of course he was no one special.

~

Your eyes widen and you spit out a ridiculously useless retort instead of reassuring your hurt boyfriend.

"Don't profile me, I am not a fucking suspect." Watery drops try to well up in your eyes but you strain to hold them back.

"Oh, I'm sorry Y/N." Thick, angry sarcasm coats his escalating words. "I wonder what it's like to be labeled something you aren't. I wonder what it could possibly be like to be hurt by something that someone you love said!"

He's the one fighting hot tears now. A dam breaks loose in you and yell back at him, feeling a rush you know you'll live to regret.

"What the hell did you want me to do?! I thought we agreed on protecting each other! No one can come after me if they don't know about me and no one can stop you from doing your job with shallow fame related bullshit, so tell me Spencer, how else am I supposed to answer a question like that?"

Reasoning jumps out the window onto a trampoline of bitterness.

"This isn't going to work out. Get out of my apartment." He screams internally at you, don't go. I don't mean it. You hear it in the back of your mind, rising from your heart.

Don't go Y/N.

You can work this out.

What you have is special.

"If that's how you feel, then okay. Goodbye Spencer."

It shocks you both to your core when you slam the apartment door behind you, not looking back as you leave. Each footstep on the stairs mirrors the deafening beating of your aching, remorseful heart. You arrive to your car and gasp loudly, hoping to halt the storming tears leaking from your scrunched eyes. How could you leave?

"So stupid!" you mutter, sinking your head into your shaking hands. "Fucking... hell...!"

Your sobs grow louder and uncontrollable without his kind soul to hold you. He'll come for you. He has to. Just another minute, it can't end like this.

The minute turns to ten.

Ten to thirty.

An hour.

"Oh my god," you finally whisper. "It's over."

You take a hand to the door handle, almost going back and telling him you love him. Telling him that he's worth staying for. He is someone special.

But you take back your hand, take a long deep breath, and drive away.

Who were you kidding? Two vastly different people like you-- two broken people like you.

Some things aren't meant to be.

~

masterlist

[fanficimagery]

‘Cause We’re Gonna Be Legends; pt. 1

Summary: Imagine wandering the Boardwalk with your friends. A group of boys catch their attention and while your friends are doing everything to catch their attention in return, they are apparently more interested in the oblivious girl of the bunch who doesn't care to bat her eyelashes at them. You. [Part One]

GIF courtesy of @daebom + Original GIF Post

Words: 6.5K Warnings: I have no idea what this is. I wanted just a quick little scene where the boys are taking care of a sick S/O and it turned into this. Fml. Sorry for their OOC-ness.

With summer officially here, your girl friends are more than ready to prowl the boardwalk in their skimpiest of outfits. Out of the five of you, you were the only one who preferred to actually be covered up. You didn't care to flash any skin if you weren't soaking up the rays on the beach and your friends didn't care to attempt any makeover since it was less competition for them.

And really, there was no competition at all. You were a little on the short side whereas your friends were all long-legged, thin beauties. You honestly wouldn't be surprised if a couple of them ended up in a magazine, that's how pretty they were. But you were comfortable in your own skin and didn't mind the attention being on them. In fact, you preferred to be in the background and watch your friends do whatever it is they pleased. You were content to witness and laugh at their antics, and then be grateful you were the only one without regrets or a killer hangover the following day.

You were the only one out of your friend group to live alone, so it was really no surprise your house became ground zero for getting ready for a night out. And after making sure the girls had picked up after themselves, we're not animals, ladies!, you piled into one car and sped off.

"So what's the plan?" Emily asks, already twirling a piece of her blonde hair around a finger as she eyes a couple of tourists walking by. She winks when they give her a double take. "If we're scoping out some boys, I can't mess up my hair on any of the rides."

Rolling your eyes, you let the girls pass you up and then walk behind them as they figure out what the night is going to entail. Booth after booth, each working individual calls out in order to grab your group's attention in order to play their game or buy their merchandise.

"Hold it." Ruby practically flings her arms out at her sides, stalling Jessica and Becca. "The boys are all alone and ripe for the picking."

Mentally chuckling, you let your girls ogle them from afar and then quickly fix themselves up. The boys in question are four bikers that basically run the boardwalk. David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul. Ever since your girls had realized what babes the rebels actually were, they'd made it their mission to nab each one for a night of fun. But for as long as you've seen them prowling the boardwalk, not once had you caught them all alone. Not until tonight.

Ruby, all dark hair and red painted lips, takes the lead in all her sultry glory. Emily and Jessica follow, their heels clicking against the wooden boardwalk as they giggle back and forth to each other, and Becca- coy, innocent looking Becca- brings up the rear. For some reason, Becca was the one who had the highest chance of bringing in their targets.

You stay several feet behind them, chuckling when Becca glances over her shoulder and wrinkles her nose cutely at the one you've come to know as Marko. When he elbows Paul and Paul wolf whistles, you know the girls have them hook, line, and sinker. "Every time," you mumble, shaking your head in amusement.

As you're passing up the boys, something makes you look in their direction. Paul and Marko are calling out rather suggestive comments to your friends, but David and Dwayne are both staring at you. Your small smile briefly falters at the intensity of their stares, but you're quick to shake off the odd feeling you were suddenly overwhelmed with. Instead, you timidly nod in greeting before quickly looking forward once more to catch up to your girls.

"Oh my god. Do you hear them?!" Jessica gushes, her red hair framing her face in waves. "Tonight's the night, girls. I can feel it."

"Keys," you immediately say, holding a hand out. "You girls do you, but I am not letting you assholes abandon me if you get lucky." Emily smirks, readily handing over the keys. "And if you strike out, I'll be heading back towards the car around midnight. Wait around for me or catch a ride home. If I get to the car and no one is there, I'll sit around for thirty minutes before calling it a night and then you're shit out of luck. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mom," all four of your friends muse.

"Good. Now go have fun," you say, shooing them away. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"But you wouldn't do anything," Ruby mockingly pouts. "And we want to do everything."

"Of course you do," you sigh. "You girls are my favorite sluts after all. Now go before I decide to lecture you instead."

All four girls cackle before taking a path back towards the way they came, intent on catching the boys' attention once more in hopes of drawing them in. You shake your head at them as they disappear and set off to hit up a few particular booths. You've got some spending cash on you and you plan to buy yourself a few things you'd been eyeing for almost a month now.

Wandering the boardwalk, you dodge some rambunctious teens and slide past the more unsavory individuals of Santa Carla. You manage to find some of the t-shirts you'd been wanting and even a few patches to add to your bag back home. Then after snagging yourself a Cola, you walk over to a table and take a seat to do some people watching. You waste some time doing just that, smiling hesitantly when you accidentally catch a gaze or three.

You haven't seen your friends or the boys, so you figure they actually did get lucky. But it was still a little too early for your liking, so you bought tickets for some of the rides. You got on the Ferris Wheel, riding solo and enjoying the peace of the night. On the Tilt-O-Whirl you partnered up with a little girl who'd been nervous to ride alone and her mother had been grateful for it. In fact she had been so grateful that she asked if you were with someone because her little girl wanted to get on the roller coaster, but didn't want to do so alone. And since you weren't busy at all, you made the kid's night by making sure she didn't have to ride alone after jogging real quick back to the car to drop off your purchases.

By the time the mother/daughter duo were done for the night, you wanted one last ride on the carousel before calling it a night for yourself. So after ripping off the exact amount of tickets you'd need for two rides on the carousel, you then handed the rest to a couple of teens who were still having the time of their lives.

You told the carousel operator you'd be going around twice and since you've done this numerous times he nodded to let you know he understood. And though you really want to sit atop of one of the horses, you're alone and don't want to look like a complete idiot. So choosing one of the sleigh seats, you sit with your back against the arm rest and stretch your legs out across the seat so no one dares sit with you.

The carousel music starts before the ride starts to slowly spin and you settle in. You don't know what it is about this particular ride, but it's soothing to you and you tiredly smile at everyone around you who are giggling and enjoying themselves. The ride spins for a couple of minutes before slowing to a complete stop and letting off the riders in order to make room for the next batch. But you remain seated, one arm draped along the backrest of the seat and the other along the arm rest as you twist your upper torso just so. You let your head fall back, eyes closing for a few seconds as the carousel rocks from the people jumping on and off.

Suddenly your legs are being lifted and then dropped into what obviously feels like someone's lap, and you lift your head quickly, ready to tell someone off. But your anger quickly fades into shock at the sight of a familiar blonde who is now laughing at your gaping expression. Paul. Someone looms over you just to your left, behind the sleight seat, and you barely manage to suppress a squeak at the stoic looking Dwayne. His dark eyes sparkle, but his expression remains neutral. Marko is behind Paul, draped over a horse as he smirks and wiggles his fingers in a childish wave.

"Wha-" Fingers caress your right cheek from behind, sliding towards your ear to tuck some loose hair behind there. You flinch and then glance over your shoulder. David's blue eyes are intense as he stares down at you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Um. Hi?" You wonder, rubbing at your cheek with your shoulder. You move to take your legs out of Paul's lap, but he lays an arm over your thighs to keep you in place. He grins and you sigh. "What do you want?"

"Can't a couple of guys be friendly, chica?"

"Sure, but you guys aren't known for exactly being friendly. Are you, Paul?"

Marko ooh's as Paul's grin widens, but it's the voice above you that sends a shiver down your spine. "Well now you have us at unfair advantage, sweetheart. You seem to know us, but we have no idea who you are."

The carousel music starts and the ride starts to spin again. You tilt your head backwards so you're staring at David upside down. "Because that's the way I prefer it." His expression briefly falters and you slowly grin at him. "But since you've now been acquainted with my girls, I'm assuming it's only a matter of time before they drag you to my house or try to get us all to hang out. So in that case, I'm Y/N."

"Your girls, huh?" David drawls. "Then why weren't you with them when they attempted to get us alone under the boardwalk?"

You snort. Of course they'd jump straight to sexing them up.

"Yeah, girl, why not? You'd have probably made for better company."

Your eyes subtly widen as you then quickly give Paul your attention. "Better company? You've got to be joking. They're the definition of everyone's type!"

"And what about you?"

You briefly falter. "What about me? I'm just- I'm the mom friend." You shrug. "But instead of making sure they're behaving, I send my little horndogs off to have fun and make sure they have a ride home at the end of the night if they need it."

"Now that doesn't seem fair at all." The back of David's knuckles runs along your cheek and you move out of reach. The other two blondes chuckle. "Your friends were great and all, but they lacked a little.. something."

Dwayne huffs. "Yeah. A brain."

"Hey!" You frown up at the brunette, fighting off a smile because as much as you loved your friends you knew they were a little sidetracked when sex was on the brain. Your shoulders slump and you sigh. "At least tell me you let them down easy? They've been trying to get you all in the sack for weeks."

Paul smirks. "We know."

The carousel comes to a stop and as you move to get up, the boys don't let you go far. David smirks and takes the lead, and Paul immediately slings arm around your shoulders to make you follow him. Marko saunters at your other side and Dwayne is only a step behind you.

"That dark haired one was a bit mean," Marko suddenly says. "Ruby I think her name was?"

"Yeah." You grimace. "Ruby and Becca are the dark haired ones, but Becca does just fine with rejection. She'll laugh it off and still consider you a friend. You guys are lucky Ruby and Jessica weren't drunk. They're mean when they don't get what they want."

Paul laughs and squeezes you closer to his side. "Dwayne and David held their own just fine. And besides, your girls found another group to entertain themselves with."

"Oh good. At least now I don't have to hear them complain about not being di-" You pause, staring at the motorcycles they've led you to. "Leaving so soon? I figured you boys were the type to stay up all night."

David smirks as he straddles his bike. "We are."

"What do you say, chica? Wanna go for a ride?" Paul jostles you before letting you go, only to hop on his own bike. Dwayne and Marko are much calmer as they straddle theirs, though Marko joins Paul in practically bouncing in his seat.

You gulp and slowly inch backward. "Uh, raincheck? I was actually about to head home after riding the carousel."

"Boo. Live a little," Paul says. "Have some of that spirit you were friends were showing us earlier."

Your smile dims just a little at being compared to them, but you quickly squash the feeling. "Sorry, bub. If you wanted a good time, you were better off with the girls." You take a few steps backward, shrugging. "I'll see you around. My bed's calling my name."

Paul and Marko do their best to keep you with them just a little bit longer, but Dwayne and David watch you go with carefully guarded expressions.

Ever since you were introduced to the boys, it seemed like they were suddenly everywhere at the boardwalk. The girls didn't take their rejection personally, so it was only a matter of time before they realized that at least one of them had caught and held the boys' attention.

The girls left you alone to pursue a hopeful one night stand? The boys would find you and make sure you had a fun night yourself.

You trailed after your friends who were clutching onto someone's arm as they were won prize after prize? Marko would show up out of the blue with a prize half your size and a smug smirk when the girls would gape at his sudden appearance and disappearance.

Your friends chose the wrong crowd to hang out with? David, Dwayne, and Marko were immediately there to deal with the situation if you or your girls couldn't handle it yourselves.

Paul would endlessly flirt whenever your group would pass by, but the comments and stares were now directed at you.

Their attention solely on you didn't go unnoticed and your girls couldn't be more ecstatic for you. Normally you'd glare and reject any flirtations with a roll of your eyes, but day by day the boys wore you down to the point you'd laugh and smile at their antics. The girls were under the impression something was going on, but to you the boys were just annoyingly passing the time.

However, you couldn't help but notice how David watched you like a hawk to make sure no one was giving you a hard time. Dwayne would stand as close as possible without touching and didn't particularly like when other boys attempted to catch your attention. Marko liked to drag you onto rides and was always the one to offer dinner, and Paul liked to touch to see exactly where on your body was accessible to him. He was the most handsy of the four and thought it was hilarious when you'd punch him if he touched any spot you were ticklish. Lately though he took to slipping a hand in your back pocket when you least expected it and kissing your cheek when you yelped in surprise before running off.

Your friends were adamant that the boys were seriously into you, but you weren't so sure. They still looked and flirted with various females that crossed their paths, even as you sat there next to them and watched on in amusement.

They were the best looking guys you'd seen in Santa Carla, so surely they couldn't be interested in you like your girls kept saying they were.

Being sick is a rare occurrence, but being so sick that you're flat out miserable is even rarer. You're normally good at taking care of yourself and getting back into tip-top shape in no time, but the flu is really kicking your ass this time around. It also doesn't help that the AC's working to keep your apartment cool aren't doing that well of a job. Well they are, but your body is doing it's best to sweat the virus out of itself and you're just plain miserable.

With your hair tied up in a loose bun to keep it off the back of your neck, you've been so overly heated that you opted to lounge around in a sports bra and a pair of cotton shorts that you normally just sleep in because they're so small. But here you are, laid up in bed as you watch TV.

There's a knock on your front door and you groan, not wanting to get up and greet anyone. And besides, all your friends knew you were sick so they were staying away. A minute passes and then another, more urgent knock sounds. You groan again, but get up to find out who's disturbing you when all you want is to be left alone.

Stumbling through the hallway and living room, you make it to the front door just as a third knock sounds.

"What?" You grumble after yanking open the door. Four familiar boys stare right back at you, two of those gazes immediately dropping to take in all the skin on display. Dwayne frowns at you, but there's a- dare you say it?- spark of concern in David's expression.

"You weren't on the boardwalk," David says. "Becca told us where we could find you."

You wrinkle your nose at him. "Did she also tell you I was sick and in no shape for visitors?"

"Oh, babe." Paul leers. "You're in the best shape. Is this," he gestures to your body, "what you've been hiding under those band tees and plaid shirts?"

"I hate you," you deadpan. Marko cackles and even Dwayne's lips twitch in amusement. You smile tiredly, but then grimace in pain. "Guys, I'm gross, I'm tired, and I'm miserable. You know exactly where I'm at now, so can I please crawl back into my bed and die in peace? Yes? Okay, bye."

David's hand stops the door from entirely closing on them. You groan and whimper, moments away from just crying with how miserable you feel. The door swings back open and the back of David's hand is immediately on your forehead. Automatically you swat him away, but then realize a moment later that it actually felt good. He was cold.

"When was the last time you took medicine?" David wonders, smirking when you grab his hand and hold it to your cheek next.

You hum as you sigh in relief. "Medicine? What's that?" You attempt to joke. When you meet his no-nonsense expression, you frown and reluctantly drop his hand. "I either pay for food and medicine or pay to keep a roof over my head. Guess which one I prioritized."

David glances over his shoulder, and Paul and Marko stare at him before taking off without a word. You frown as you watch them go, but then David and Dwayne are pushing their way into your apartment. "You're running too hot," David tells you. "You need to cool off. Now."

"I know that, dad, but I literally can't stand for too long. You're lucky I'm even still standing right now." Without warning, a now jacket-less Dwayne picks you up with one arm behind your shoulders and the other under your knees. You yelp as your hands settle on his shoulder, but when you realize his body is as cold as David's hand felt, you melt. "Oh. Oh that's nice." Dwayne chuckles and David smirks behind his back, and you lay your head on his shoulder before nuzzling in towards the crook of his neck. "If any of you get sick, it's your fault. You should have left when you had the chance."

"Don't worry about us." Dwayne's voice is low, his chest rumbling as he talks. "We don't get sick."

"Mhm. You say that now." Dwayne lowers you gently onto your bed and you raise an eyebrow at him as he climbs in next to you. You gulp as he then lays down and stretches his arm out, and you take it as an invite to drape your upper half across his chest. He curls one arm beneath his head and the other around your back, and it takes everything in you to not completely wrap yourself around him. "God you feel so good," you mumble as you let your eyes fall shut.

David chuckles. "I don't think any of us have heard that without-"

"Shush!" You feel the bed dip behind you, but are too comfortable to move and look at him. "I just replayed that in my head and realized how it sounded. Don't tell Paul."

Both boys chuckle, but then quiet down after a few seconds. You sigh as your body finally relaxes and you moan quietly when Dwayne starts to run his fingers up and down your spine. He's abnormally cold, but right now you don't give a damn because he feels great against your feverish body.

"You need to take better care of yourself," David says. "You look out for those girls of yours all the time, so the least they could do is return the favor."

"As much as they like to appear independent, they're not," you mumble. "Medicine is expensive and I'm not about to put that on my friends or their parents. I can handle a week of being sick. It's fine."

"Is it?" Dwayne drawls. "You're awfully clingy for a sick person."

"I'm sick, you assholes. Baby me."

They find amusement in your whining and Dwayne squeezes you a little tighter. But David continues to talk. "So all your friends live with their parents, except for you. Why is that?"

"We're estranged," you say. "Lived with my aunt and got a job as soon as I was able to. Then I graduated and moved out with the cash I saved."

"You still talk to this aunt?"

"No. We kept in contact for a few months, but then we each got our own lives. The only people I have are the girls."

"And us," Dwayne rumbles. "You have us."

"You're adorable. Now shush. Watch TV and let me sleep."

David and Dwayne finally go quiet then, but you know they've listened because the TV volume lowers and you can hear the channels changing. They settle on some program and you can finally feel yourself drifting off into a promising sleep.

It's apparently not a deep sleep because semi-loud noises startle you awake once more. When you lift your head to stare around the room, Marko is frozen next to Dwayne as he shows him a couple different boxes of medicine. You blink at him and then stare towards the end of the bed where Paul's eyes are directed to one spot, and one spot only.

"Damn, girl. You should wear these shorts more often." Of course he's staring at your ass. "Are you wearing underwear because if you lift your leg just a little bit higher-"

"Paul!" You snort and then grimace in pain, lowering your head back onto Dwayne's chest. "I have on underwear, okay? You're not gonna get a peek at the goods no matter how hard you stare."

"Bummer." He then holds up a brown paper bag, his gaze meeting yours. "Got some chicken soup and crackers for you. Sit up so you can eat and then take the medicine."

"What?" You're surprised they got you both food and medicine, and slowly move to sit up against the headboard. Dwayne follows, and soon enough you're sitting between both Dwayne and David in your bed. "I was only joking when I said to baby me."

"Yeah? Well too bad," David says. "You need to break your fever. Now eat a little something, shower, and then take the fever reducer."

David seems actually pretty serious about this, so after holding his gaze for a moment too long you give in. You don't mention you actually hate eating in bed and watch on in mild amusement as Dwayne and Marko juggle the now opened soup container and a sleeve of crackers while trying to figure out a way to hand it all to you without spilling anything.

"There's a lap tray under the sink in the kitchen." You take pity on Marko and his shoulders sag in relief. "And can you bring me a glass of water?" Marko does quick work of retrieving what you've asked for and then you're stretching out your legs in front of you as Dwayne sets everything up in your lap for you. You sigh as you take hold of the plastic spoon to scoop up the first mouthful and pray your stomach doesn't revolt while the boys are with you. When you take the first bite and quietly groan at the taste, your gaze darts around to the four boys who are staring at you. "Please do something other than watch me eat. This is weird."

Paul immediately pushes off your dresser to start rummaging through your drawers, Marko busies himself with your bookshelf, David starts channel surfing, and when you glance at Dwayne he has his eyes closed. Paul's a little overexcited and you can't find it in you to reprimand him because you did tell him to do something.

You eat slow, nibbling on a cracker here and there between spoonfuls of chicken broth and noodles. David even steals a cracker or two, but his gaze never leaves the TV so he never sees you grin every time he does it.

"Hey. Sick patch," Marko suddenly muses. "Where'd you get it?" In his hand is the patch depicting a skeleton mid-headbang, his skeletal hand showing the sign of the horns.

"It was a gift," you tell him, smiling fondly. "A while back I ran into a little girl who was scared to get on rides alone, so I rode with her for about an hour. Her mother was really grateful and I ran into them again a couple days later on the boardwalk. They saw my bag, the girl fell in love with all the patches, and she conned her mom into buying me a new one to show her thanks." Marko's interest is suddenly piqued and you can see him subtly glancing around. And given his own love of patches, you guess he's looking for your bag. "My bag's in the closet."

Paul joins Marko at your closet then and you finally lean back against your headboard, done with eating. Dwayne takes the tray off your lap to take into the kitchen, but you keep your glass of water to sip. You smile when Marko finds your bag, commenting on the patchwork and about a few patches he hadn't seen before.

"You feeling strong enough to stand in the shower?"

You look over at David, who's more than at ease lounging in your bed, and shrug. "Only one way to find out." You hand him your glass of water and crawl out through the spot Dwayne had vacated. Standing on shaky legs, you hesitantly walk back and forth, and then grin up at David. "Yeah. I should be fine."

He nods. "Take the medicine now, then after you shower you can relax."

From the corner of your eye you see Paul make a beeline for your dresser. "Oh I know the perfect outfit."

"Out of the underwear drawer, you d-hole!" Dwayne re-enters the room, smacking Paul upside the head and shutting the drawer he had just opened. You smile at him in thanks and then quietly chuckle at the blonde's pout. "If you calm down and stop looking at me like that, you can pick out a fresh set of exactly what I'm wearing. And yes that includes the underwear." He perks up at that and you roll your eyes. "Top drawer for the underwear, second for the sports bra, and the very bottom for pajama shorts." As Paul takes his time choosing the perfect underwear, you glance back at Marko who's caressing a few patches on your bag. You sigh. "Hey, Marko. There's a shoe box at the top of my closet to the right. It's filled with patches. Have fun choosing the five you want." Immediately your bag is dropped and he's reaching for the shelf inside your closet.

"You know you just made their night's, right?" Dwayne asks. When you glance at him, you're surprised to see he had your first dose of medicine ready for you to take.

"I needed to get rid of some patches and I have a feeling Paul would end up in my underwear drawer the second the shower turned on, so.." You take the medicine from him, tossing two pills into your mouth and swallowing them down with a mouthful of water.

Dwayne nods and then lowers his voice. "Is there anywhere in particular you want Paul to stay out of?" You're about to tell him no, but then your eyes unwillingly dart to your bedside drawer. You gulp, your face flames, and you pray your face is already red from fever otherwise Dwayne is going to know exactly what you're hiding. When you meet his amused gaze and small smirk, you quietly groan. He definitely knows. "Got it," he says rather than teasing you about it.

Clothes are then shoved into your hands and Paul winks at you. "Your selection of underwear is phenomenal. I did not expect all that lace."

You don't bother with a reply and head out into the hall as he snickers at your back, taking a left to the bathroom. Once you're hidden behind the closed door, you turn the water on cool in the shower and then allow yourself to just breathe. It's been a while since anyone bothered to actually look after you and now having four boys, who are insanely attractive in their own ways, take up that job is a little mind boggling. But before you can think anymore on it and what their motives could be, if they had any, your back twinges in pain and you start to undress.

You're not sure how long you actually take in the shower, but you know it must've been quite some time in order for Marko to knock on the door and ask if everything was okay. A couple minutes after that you finally exit the shower, slowly dressing and doing your best to towel dry your hair. Giving up, you walk out and make your way back into your bedroom.

The boys have dragged chairs into your room, only one of them now lounging in bed. Paul has shed his jacket and boots, stretched out in your bed with both hands tucked beneath his head and ankles crossed. He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you huff a brief laugh.

"Better?" David asks.

Shrugging, you look towards him. "I don't feel so gross now, but I'm still sleepy."

"Then sleep. We'll wake you in four hours for your next dose of medicine and then leave after that."

You open your mouth to argue, but his deadpan expression lets you know it's pointless to argue. So just going with the flow, you shrug and toss your towel into the corner hamper. Crawling into bed, you tiredly grin at Paul who's likely hoping for you to cuddle up to him like you did to Dwayne. But your hair is damp, so instead you settle next to him. He dramatically gasps, but you sit there to gather your hair in hand before twisting it into an untied bun and then lay down on it so it's not all over the place.

"Well then fine," Paul huffs. "I'll just cuddle you instead."

Already knowing he means it, you lay your arm out in invitation. He's so much larger than you, however, that he opts to lay on his stomach directly next to you. His right arm drapes over your stomach and tucks beneath your waist, and his face nestles in the crook of your neck. You freeze, especially when you can feel hot breath against your skin, and only relax when he seems to be behaving. "This is not how friends cuddle," you mumble, "but you're so cold I don't even care."

David and Dwayne both smirk, and Marko hides his amusement behind a fist as he chews on his thumbnail. "Good." Paul's voice is muffled against your neck. "Because we've been trying for days, weeks if I'm honest, to get you to notice we're trying to be more than just your friends."

"W-What?" You squeak. Your heart immediately starts to pound and you're suddenly self conscious about the way Paul is wrapped around you.

"We were sure you'd have noticed by now or your girls would have said something," Marko says.

"I- I mean they have," you stammer, "but.. what? Why? I'm not- I'm just.."

"You're different," Dwayne says. You blink in surprise at him. "You noticed us, but you didn't throw yourself at us."

"You also weren't intimidated by us, so that was a plus." Marko perks up in his chair. "Have you really not noticed? I mean Paul started groping you and Dwayne glared at that one guy who asked for your number until he walked off."

"Yeah, but that's just Paul. He flirts with anything that has a heartbeat." The three boys chuckle at your still astonished expression and Paul nuzzles your neck with a hum. He doesn't deny it. "And Dwayne.. I kind of guessed he was into me," you frown, "but I convinced myself that his actions were of the protective brother sort."

"Oh he was protective alright. Just not brotherly." Paul's lips and breath so close to your neck makes you shiver, and it doesn't go unnoticed by the others. Paul too if him pulling you ever closer to his body is any indication. The tip of his nose runs along your neck and you find yourself subconsciously tilting your head to the side. "Even sick you smell so good."

Dwayne, David, and Marko all tense, their gazes darting to where Paul's face is hidden. You chuckle nervously, trying to push him away with your head, only to quietly moan when you feel the flat of his tongue sweep across your skin.

"Paul!" David barks.

Startling, you get your wits about you and push Paul away. He looks a little dazed when he glances around and then offers you a sheepish smile. "O-Okay," you shakily say, "out. Your cuddling privileges are over for the night."

"Aw. Come on, babe."

"Nope. I'm too sick for that right now."

Marko laughs as Paul slinks out of the bed and then quickly takes up the vacated spot for himself. He ends up almost in the exact position, only his head lands on your chest and his arm wraps around the tops of your thighs so his hand is tucked beneath your legs. You sigh as his cold skin cools off yours.

Marko lasts exactly eleven minutes before the hand under your thigh shifts upward to your butt and squeezes. You sigh and poke his shoulder. "Out. You're as bad as Paul." He laughs, not even bothering to deny it.

Paul and Marko high five one another, and you frown as you attempt to shift into a more comfortable position. You watch Dwayne with suspicious eyes as he slides into bed once more, but then give him the benefit of the doubt when he lets you cuddle up to him instead. Once you're comfortable with your head on his chest and arm over his stomach, you're finally able to fall asleep once more when his hand settles in your hair instead of somewhere on your own body.

The next time you're woken up it's because you feel a little overheated once again. You groan as you stretch out and realize a moment later you're not cuddled up to anyone. Frowning, you also realize that there's a black coat covering you. You shove the coat down towards your lap and glance around your room, only to find David staring at you in amusement from the edge of your bed.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm. This yours?" You ask, gesturing to the coat. He smiles and nods. "Where is everyone?"

"We need to get going." You sit up and notice then that he's got your next dose of medicine waiting for you, and a glass of water. "We'll be busy later tonight, but we'll be back tomorrow evening. Keep taking your medicine and we'll see you soon."

After David hands you the medicine and water, he stands to pull on his coat. You slide out of bed to stand in front of him and nervously shift from foot to foot. "Thank you," you mumble. "For everything."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." David raises his hand, fingertips caressing your cheek before tucking what no doubt is wild hair behind your ear. You grimace and then reach up to smooth it down yourself. "Listen. About earlier, the boys might have crossed a line. You're sick and we kind of dropped a bomb on you about all four of us being interested in you."

"Oh." You will yourself to not blush. "I, um, it's fine. It's kind of shocking, but I'm actually-"

"Interested?" David raises an eyebrow at you.

You shrug. "Who wouldn't be? But you guys seriously picked the worst time to bluntly tell me you liked me."

"You were taking too long to catch on."

You shake your head in amusement at him. "Fair enough." Sighing, you then nod towards your door. "I'll walk you out."

"It's fine. You get back into bed." His hand raises and latches onto the back of your neck, and he brings you so his cold lips press to your feverish forehead. "We'll be back before you know it." Then without another word, David whirls around and exits your bedroom.

A few moments later and you can hear your front door opening and closing. You're left blinking at nothing but thin air and when you notice it's just after three in the morning, you numbly crawl back into bed. The entire night, the parts where you were awake, had been nuts and you can't help but attempt to go over every interaction you've ever had with the boys. You try to pinpoint exactly when their friendly interactions turned into something more, but a sudden throb behind your eyes has you groaning.

Tomorrow. You'll figure it out tomorrow.

[prettyboymichaels-ao3]

Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 1: Where Did I Put That Map Again? (Pt. 1)

It’s the week before Wrestlemania 12, he’s preparing to give Shawn Michaels the fight of his life in their 60-minute Iron Man match, and his little brother has decided to drag him out to socialize on an otherwise perfectly ordinary Wednesday night.

Surely, this decision won’t take the course his life was on – and the course his relationship with Shawn was on – and send it into a tailspin.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~2k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

my massive bretshawn abo au is here! as I only have two-ish more scenes to write, and 10 chapters already written to publish on here (separated into smaller “parts” for tumblr, which means I technically have 21 chapters; they’ll be published fully on ao3), I’ve decided to try for an every other day publishing schedule to give myself more time to fully finish this book of the series. so. :) I’ve read and edited and reread and re-edited this more than almost any other fic I’ve written, so HOPEFULLY. I don’t want to edit it MORE after finally PUBLISHING it. sigh. anyway.

-

tw for: attempted sexual assault. it doesn’t actually occur, but this IS the jumping off point for the fic, and it will be referenced throughout. the tw “references to attempted sexual assault” will be used in any chapter that references it

tag list: @track12to13​; @piratewithvigor​; @sinderellanightwolf​. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

-

It was times like these when he wondered why he ever bothered going out at all.

They’d gotten to California two days before, early, the way they usually did, leaving the morning after their last match to get a head start and not arrive completely burnt out. They’d spent those two days getting acquainted with their hotel room, their rental car, and the stadium gym they were going to be using the next two weeks. However, “California” didn’t just mean “new match”, it also meant “new towns”, which meant “new opportunities to make Bret socialize”. He’d told Owen, repeatedly, in a variety of ways, that the last thing he needed was a fucking wingman, let alone his happily mated younger brother as a wingman, but he’d just brushed off everything he’d said and dragged him out anyway. “You have almost two weeks to prepare,” he’d scoffed, forcing him to change basically as soon as they got back to their room. “When’s the last time you really let loose?” he’d offered, trying to hustle him out almost before he’d had his shoes tied. “I promised mom I’d try something the last time we talked so would you stop digging your heels in, please,” was his final explanation, as he was hailing a cab to take them out of the city and to some smaller town a little less than an hour away, where they’d be less likely to get recognized, because getting mobbed in a bar or a club was always… not great, to say the least.

But it just really wasn’t Bret’s scene. It just really, really wasn’t. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he couldn’t power through a hangover the way he used to, and he wasn’t in the mood anyway, the way he hadn’t been for the last two years Owen’d been trying to set him up. He’d gotten used to being single by now, he’d even gotten used to his mother’s passive aggressive comments about it every time he called home, and, yeah, being used to it didn’t mean he liked it, but trying to find a date at this point in his life wasn’t exactly easy, at thirty-eight years old, in his line of work, with his designation. Honestly, he didn’t know why Owen was still trying so earnestly; the odds of Bret finding a decent prospective partner at some random club in Somewhere, California was so low it might as well be in the ground.

As such, instead of socializing, the way Owen wanted him to, he’d nursed a glass or two at the bar, had a fairly interesting conversation with an older woman who happened to be the designated driver for a group of girls giggling on the dance floor, and eventually called it quits after hitting the bathroom two hours in. It wasn’t even ten-thirty yet, you’d think he could last a little longer, and he could, he was just… bored. His bar mate was corralling her wayward group to leave, and Owen was having a grand time failing miserably at darts with what looked to be a group of regulars, so he just told him he was heading back to the hotel, refused to be guilted into a game no matter how many times Owen batted his eyelashes or how disappointed he looked, paid his tab, and slipped out into the night with a sigh and his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. It was only slightly cooler outside than it was inside, and it was much less crowded – a few smokers, on the other side of the street, and two people eating a pizza and using the box as their plate a little further down from that. Definitely less busy than Anaheim would be this time of night, and equally less well lit.

There was also, though, something he almost didn’t hear over the noise of the bar:

“…an’t change your mind now!”

“I agreed to go home with you, not you and your fucking friend–”

His foot still raised from where he’d been stepping to the curb to hail a cab, he cocked his head to the alleyway the voices had drifted from – and, there it was, he hadn’t been hearing things, because there was an incredulous laugh, a dull thump, and a pained grunt before another man said, amused, speaking over the rising growls, “C’mon, baby, you really think you’re in a position to turn us down? You’re the one about to go into heat, it won’t matter whose knot you’re taking soon enough.”

Bret was moving before the end of that sentence, rounding the corner to find three figures pressed up against the stone wall beside an open dumpster. They were mostly hidden from the orange street lamps outside the mouth of the alley, but he could still see rough impressions, and they weren’t very promising: two holding the third prone while the third tried to fight back, thrashing and almost snarling with how viciously he was growling, but he was getting nowhere fast, with how successfully he was being restrained. One’s nose was buried in this man’s throat, the other’s teeth visible in the low light as he grinned, and Bret felt his expression twist and harden as he stepped forward. “Hey! You’ve got three seconds to walk away before I make this a fair fight.”

That certainly got their attention, and he saw them all turn his way, their eyes flashing a little in the dark. Parts of their faces were highlighted now – the barest crests of their jaws, their cheekbones, their hair – but he could see the moment their nostrils flared and he was written off as nothing but a nuisance, which was only confirmed when one of them scoffed. “Run away, little beta, this doesn’t concern you.”

And then he turned right back around to continue scenting the man, the omega, who headbutted him so hard in the nose Bret could hear it crack from here. The man howled, staggering away and clutching at his gushing face with both hands, and Bret watched as the omega took advantage of the other man’s stunned disbelief to kick his legs out from under him and send him tumbling to the ground.

Bret didn’t waste any time. He stalked forward, hauling the one on the ground up by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pants so he could toss him bodily into the open dumpster. The open, empty dumpster, if the clang of metal and yelp of pain were anything to go by. There was a choked off squeal from behind him, and he turned just in time to watch the omega’s leg come back down and the second perpetrator crumple into the fetal position, clutching his groin. That one quickly joined his friend in the dumpster, courtesy of Bret, and the groans and squeaks that resulted from that collision were incredibly satisfying.

He wiped his hands on his jeans before turning back to the omega, raising his hands placatingly when he, too, was met with a sharp, threatening growl. “Hey. You okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

There was an extended moment of silence. “…Bret?”

Oh, perfect, he’d been recognized– …Wait. He knew that voice. He squinted, edging closer, and fuck, now that his eyes had adjusted a little–

“…Shawn?!”

When it sounded like the men in the dumpster were starting to try and gather their bearings, Bret put his hand on – on Shawn’s shoulder and pushed him out of the alley and past the bar, letting his hand fall away and trusting Shawn to follow him as he lead them past another two buildings to turn the corner onto another block, and then a little further still, directly under a street light, far enough to see them coming if they tried it. After getting their asses handed to them so thoroughly, not just by their intended victim but by a little beta to boot, the alphas shouldn’t come sniffing around looking for seconds, but you could never be too careful.

“Jesus, Shawn, what the hell was that?” he hissed, shrugging his jacket off and settling it over Shawn’s shoulders in one fluid motion.

Or he would have, if the man didn’t take an immediate step back and bare his teeth at him, rubbing his arms. Bret scowled. “Can you stop being so stubborn for two seconds–”

“I’m two seconds from kicking you in the fucking balls, Bret, don’t test me,” Shawn barked, taking another step back for good measure. His voice was hoarser than it usually was, and Bret was a little worried about what he’d do if it cracked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sucked in a breath through his mouth, and blew it out through his nostrils. “Look,” he settled on, staring at Shawn hard, who stared right back. In the orange light illuminating them, he could more clearly see his rumpled clothes, his wrecked hair, his blotchy face, but if he could compare him to anything right now it’d be a cornered animal. “Just – put it under your nose, okay? I know I don’t have much of a scent, but it’s gotta be better than whatever the fuck they were giving off.”

Shawn scoffed, but flexed his fingers from where they were clutching at his biceps, moving his eyes to his jacket. “Gee, when’s the last time you took a high school health class?”

“In high school, asshole, now take it.”

Shawn curled his lip, looking ready to keep arguing, but, shifting his weight on his feet, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and snatched the jacket from Bret instead. He paused once he had it, glaring at him like he was expecting him to say something, and when Bret just crossed his arms and gave him a look, he finally shoved it under his nose and took a deep breath. Half the tension in his body released in one fell swoop, and with it came a hitch as he buried his face in the leather completely, his hands starting to shake.

Bret, deciding to give him a modicum of privacy, looked behind Shawn to make sure they hadn’t been followed (they hadn’t) and moved to the curb to finally hail a cab. Two of them passed, occupied, before he heard Shawn move up next to him, his jacket still stuffed under his nose. His eyes were a little red, and a little wet, but his cheeks were dry. “I wanna puke,” he rasped, muffled into the leather, and Bret gave a humorless snort.

“If you’re gonna, do it here,” he said, waving at another taxi, and this one actually responded, starting to pull up. “I sure as hell don’t wanna smell it all the way back to Anaheim.”

That earned him a grumble, more lighthearted than anything he’d heard out of Shawn’s mouth tonight, and Bret hid his relief by walking around the idling cab to talk to the driver at his window, digging out his wallet. “You got a divider?”

“Sure do, brother,” the cabbie told him, jerking his thumb to the backseat and the tinted glass that separated him from it. “Got some wet wipes back there, too. Just don’t leave any stains, huh?”

Bret frowned, because that made it all too clear what he thought they were planning on doing in his backseat, but threw a handful of twenties into the driver’s lap anyway, enough to make his eyes widen comically. “That’s to get us to Anaheim. There’s more where that came from if you get us there in forty.”

“Hell, brother, I’ll get you there in thirty,” the cabbie exclaimed, and Bret straightened back up after giving him the hotel’s address, waving at Shawn to get in on his side, which he did one-handed, slamming the door behind him as Bret followed suit. The divider deafened the cabbie’s music to a low rumble, and, as they pulled off, Bret started digging around in the mesh pocket attached to the back of the driver’s seat until he emerged with the aforementioned wet wipes. He tore the pack open, pulling half of them out in one go and passing them over to Shawn, who took them automatically with the hand that wasn’t holding Bret’s jacket to his nose, but gave him a look that said he had no idea what Bret was trying to do here.

He gestured to his own throat. “For your scent glands,” he explained, and he could see the moment the light went off, because Shawn started scrubbing at either side of his neck like a man possessed. Bret used the rest of the wipes to clean his own hands and stuffed them into his pocket after he was done, sinking back against the creaky plastic seats like they might swallow him up, lack of give or no.

[trashytummiez]

Like Peas in a Pool

@squidbiscuit struck my inspiration again with a great and funny two parter that featured Marlon and Brawly being lovable dopes.  So I made this.  X3

Marshal watched from afar while the two young blue-haired men swam in his gym along with their Pokemon.  They were celebrating an intense tie by basically doing a peace swim together.  The older, grizzled trainer shook his head.  He would swear on his life that these two were going to end up sinking like rocks if they kept pushing themselves past their limits.  And he wasn’t 100% sure he’d want to save either of them.

Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to find out.

Instead Marlon and Brawly sat back up on the edge of the pool laughing wearily and slumped back together, their bodies dripping with water.

“Dude, ya sure know how t’give a dude a run ‘fo his money!” Marlon exclaimed and nudged back at Brawly’s arm.

The slightly younger surfer smiled excitedly back at Marlon and nudged his bare arm right back.  “Dude, you weren’t kidding!  You’re like a water type yourself when you’re in the pool, brah!  Watchin’ you ride the tide like that was bodacious!”

There was no tide.  It was a pool.

The two young men kept going back and forth with praise for one another’s skills until suddenly out of nowhere, Marlon’s deeply tanned bare stomach let forth a really loud, hungry grumble.  Marlon winced and placed a hand on his stomach, laughing as he scratched his head sheepishly.  “Sorry ‘bout that, dude.  Tank’s runnin’ on fumes here.”

His wasn’t the only one because Brawly’s own stomach growled about as loudly as Marlon’s and left him in much the same position.  “I feel that, brah,” Brawly admitted, rubbing his own grumbling stomach.  “Whadduya say we grab some grub?  Marshal’s got some great eats at the table!”

“Righteous!” Marlon said, hopping up to his bare feet.  “Let’s eat, dude!”

“Way ahead of you there, my dude!” Brawly said, eagerly leading Marlon over to the table.

Listening to these two talk made Marshal suddenly need an aspirin for some reason.

At the table Brawly was talking about, there were tons of sandwiches, fish tacos, and other meaty options.  The two hungry young men were practically drooling at the spread.  Marlon grabbed a burger and immediately chomped into it.  He chewed heartily with his cheeks bulging out.  His face immediately lit up at how delicious and juicy the burger was then he gulped that hefty mouthful down his throat and smacked his lips.  “Yo, dude!  You gotta try these burgers, man!  They’re outta this world!”  Marlon exclaimed, wolfing more of his burger down.

Brawly did as Marlon suggested and bit into a burger of his own.  Right away his own face lit up.  “Omph!  Tubular, brah!” he exclaimed with his mouth still full then gulped away.

Both Marlon and Brawly eagerly chowed down on their burgers, finishing them in no time at all.  And then they went straight for the next ones.  Both guys never stopped gushing about how delicious everything tasted as they ate at a breakneck pace.  Both Marlon and Brawly were able to completely polish off whatever bit of food was in their hands in just a matter of a few bites since all that intense swimming seemed to really work up an appetite for the boys.

Marshal could feel a vein popping in his head since that spread was meant for more than two happy go-lucky blue-haired dopes.  But he was resigned to it and just hoped that any other trainers who entered his gym weren’t gonna be hungry.  Next time, he was definitely gonna have a sign for limits.

But until then, Marlon and Brawly just kept on gleefully stuffing their faces.  

And in doing so at such record speed, the impact started to show itself.  Marlon was shirtless so his lean swimmers body was always on full display.  But with how much he was eating, that lean stomach of his was beginning to push out and get a little round the more he stuffed his face.  And just like in the pool, Brawly wasn’t far behind.  That skintight surfers shirt of his stretched out against the middle from how bloated he was starting to get.  Yet neither one showed any sign of slowing down.

They just kept on eating and eating, picking the entire table clean of its contents.  Burgers, sandwiches and tacos alike all vanished down Marlon and Brawly’s throats as their tums only swelled out more and more with every bit of food they consumed.  Marlon’s belly was starting to get rounder and heavier like a proper food baby.  Brawly’s gut wasn’t quite as big but it was getting there and only barely stayed contained under his shirt.

The two eventually cleaned the place out and left no scrap of food behind on the table.  Their bellies were absolutely packed to the brim, Marlon’s especially.  He leaned back against the table and let loose an enormous burp that echoed all throughout the gym.  

Brawly laughed and gave Brawly a thumbs up.  “Nice one, brah!”  Then he thumped his chest and released a burp of his own that was almost just as loud bit a little bit longer.

Marlon sighed and gave his belly a few satisfied pats.  “Right back at’cha, dude.”  As Marlon leaned back against the table, he marveled at how bloated his belly had become and blushed as he gently rubbed it with one hand.  He looked genuinely surprised at how full he was.  “Whoooa,” he said then hiccuped loudly.  “Nph, you fightin’ guys really put out a spread for meals, huh?”  Marlon had to burp again, gripping his belly tightly as a deep one rumbled out of his mouth and left him panting.  “Ungh, I’m totally stuffed!”

“That’s what happens when two idiots eat food meant for at least a dozen or so people,” Marshal said to himself.  Fortunately neither of the bloated young men heard him when they approached the elder larger gym leader.  Brawly was still stroking his own rounded belly while Marlon huffed and grabbed his goggles.  

“No matter!  I’ll just do a quick lap around the island to work it off!” Marlon suggested obliviously.

And in an equally oblivious and excitable manner, Brawly pumped out his arms and grinned.  “Duuuude!  That’s a great idea!  I’ll come with!”

As much as Marshal might’ve loved to have been rid of these two, he had to be the adult and grab both young men by the shoulders with a resigned sigh.  “No,” he said simply.  

“Awww, why not?” both Marlon and Brawly asked like disappointed kids.

“You’re not supposed to swim until half an hour after eating.  And that’s a normal amount...”

Both Marlon and Brawly stared at one another in confusion, then stared at their deeply swollen bellies.  It eventually clicked.  

“Ahhhh, good point,” Marlon said.

“We should wait like thirty five minutes, right?” Brawly asked sincerely.

Marshal stared off into space.

Suddenly both Marlon and Brawly found themselves kicked out of his gym, looking like confused puppies.

“Huh, he usually doesn’t close his gym this early,” Brawly said in confusion.  He shrugged and grinned back at Marlon.  “So what now, brah?”

Marlon’s rounded belly gurgled intensely and made him hiccup again and then wince uncomfortably.  “Ungh, actually, ya mind if we find a place to kick back a bit, dude?”  

They found a small beach nearby just near the shore.  Marlon sighed as he sat down in the sand stretching his legs out and leaning back to give his round ballooned belly some extra room.  Brawly did the same in a bit more of a relaxed manner.  “Ahhh, that’s more like it,” Marlon sighed and contently let the warm sun bake over his bloated belly nicely.

Brawly nodded smiled as he looked off at the gentle waves hitting the shore.  “So, whadduya wanna do to pass the time til we can swim again, brah?”

Marlon’s immensely stuffed stomach emitted a deep burbling.  Seconds later, Marlon threw his head back and expelled a massive burp so loud and heavy that Brawly thought the sand underneath him shook.  Eating that much fast food all at once made the swimmer feel really gassy.  Marlon sighed with relief and gave his gut a few pats of satisfaction.

But Brawly grinned excitedly after seeing that.  “Burping contest?  Heck yeah, brah!  I’m game!”

That actually wasn’t what Marlon was suggesting, he just really needed to get that one out.  But nonetheless the two ended up engaging in a pretty fierce burping contest on the mercifully empty beach, both letting out some monstrous ear-rattlers with no clear winner in sight.  Not that it mattered to them, they were having a ton of fun and enjoying each others company.  That was good enough for them.

Sadly for Marshal, he picked the worst possible time to head outside of his gym to go home.  As he walked off, trying in vein to ignore the immensely crass contest going on between the two youngsters, he wondered to himself if the two combined had a functioning brain cell left in either of their heads.

He was all but certain that the only working brain cells were leaving with him in a hurry.

[kiru-da-ho-beeeech]

Sugar Daddy AU - Mista

Warning: NSFW, degradation, death threat, choking, spanking, hair-pulling, implied murder, I wrote and post in mobile so I can't put this under the cut, read the warnings please

Did I really just write a 2k word fic because Mista called himself Daddy? Yes. Yes, I did.

It was the garterbelt and stockings that did him in, you knew.

Amazement and lust shone clear in his eyes as you slid off your long coat, revealing the lingerie set that had been gifted to you last week. Your Daddy sat in his office chair, a leg atop his knee and his bottom lip trapped between white teeth as one hand lowered and put out a half-burned cigarette in an ashtray. His eyes burned holes in your body, travelling up and down, especially lingering at your stocking-clad legs. You rubbed your thighs together. He took a deep breath.

You giggled at his reaction. He really made it too easy.

"Care to tell me why you're here wearing that, baby?" He asked after a few minutes of staring.

You strode to him, crossing the distance from the door to his desk, and sat on the cold mahogany surface. Ass facing him, of course. He let out a slow breath at how the globes looked, soft and perfectly squished.

"I went to Paris." You began, twirling a lock of hair between your fingers.

"Cool. How was it?"

You made a drawn and disinterested 'eh' sound as your palm began moving up and down your thigh. His ebony eyes followed it like a hawk watching a mouse. 

"It was fun. I ate raw oysters. Got new clothes, shoes, perfume…" you stretched a hand out to him, wrist up, "Wanna smell?"

You knew he knew what you were playing at. He wasn't the Don for nothing. Yet, he still leaned down, encircling your wrist in a gentle grip and bringing it up to his nose to take a whiff. Though the rule of the business was to not get attracted to your benefactor, the way his nose flared as his eyes closed did some things to you. He's just so damnably handsome and obliviously sexy that you can't help the way your gut wrenched nor the way your cunt flooded with moistness. Once he opened his eyes to look at you, they were half-lidded and burning with desire.

He grinned, dimples dipping so deep it made your mouth water. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to lick them, "Smells good, baby. Delicious."

Distract yourself, your conscious screamed, you came here with a mission to complete. Your eyes scanned his desk and found a mug. You reached for it, taking back your hand from him. You picked up the mug and drank from it absent-mindedly, surprised at what you tasted on your tongue.

"M-Milk?"

He chuckled, "Oh, yeah. I ate something too spicy earlier. Which reminds me--"

He patted his knee, a signal for you to come sit on Daddy's lap. You complied, putting the mug back down. You removed yourself from the desk and rounded it, spreading your legs and straddling him-- his crotch in particular-- then wrapped your arms loosely around his neck. You could already feel his semi-hard length pressing against you, teasing you with promises of a good time and a sore body.

"-- My tongue still hurts like shit. I need something sweet." His hands firmly gripped your thighs, "To balance it out, you know?"

The way he ogled at your breasts told you it wasn't food he's talking about.

Despite your determination not to give in, you ground your hips to his.

He released a shaky sigh, burying his head at the crook of your neck and gripping your sides harder. You did it again, firmer this time, which earned a low rumble from him.

"Baby girl, what is it that you need?" His voice weakly asked. God, he's so easy to tease you almost feel bad.

Almost.

"Daddy, I had so much fun in Paris… Thank you for sending me there and giving me an allowance~" He just grunted as a response so you continued, "but I've used them all up and my bills are due next week."

He lifted his head to look at you. Smirking, he held the side of your face. His hands were warm and rough, and you leaned into it instinctively.

"That so?" His thumb stroked your cheek, swiping lower and massaging your bottom lip, "But baby, our condition says I'll only give you your allowance once a month. We can't breach the contract now, can we?"

You whined. It was too good to be true. He may act silly and friendly, but he was still the Don. The most powerful person in the gang. He won't give in so easily.

He took your arm off his neck, guiding your hands down his belt. With a seductive smile, he said, "If you want more, you'll have to work for it dolcezza."

Ah, of course. This was a transaction of gestures. And you were all too eager to participate in the exchange if it meant seeing six digits in your bank account.

You removed yourself from his lap while he stood. Kneeling in front of him, you unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, letting his member spring out. You were just about to put him in your mouth when he stopped you, guiding you to bend down on his desk. You thought it was going to be one of those days where he had to fuck you quickly because he's in a rush. Maybe an appointment in thirty minutes or so?

You released a startled cry when his palm connected with your behind rather harshly.

"You think you can just come in here unannounced?" His voice was dark and gravelly, tickling your core like a feather and making you even wetter. He stroked the abused spot lightly, the skin already feeling like it's on fire. The sting felt so splendid, so dirty. You never even thought you were into pain until you met him. Only he knew how to deliver it in ways that had you craving for more. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, "I'm the Don, puttana. You have no right to do as you wish, and you do not disrespect me like that, am I clear?"

A whimper escaped your throat, "Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"Very good. I like you, (Y/N). I'd hate it if you have to go for being too much of a little brat." That wasn't a threat, as you've learned. In the world he lived in, it was a warning. There was a cold edge to his words and it made your heart beat erratically to the rush of both fear and excitement. He was truly dangerous, the only man who could kill you and wipe your existence from the planet as though you've never existed in the first place. Being his sugar baby meant being the devil's plaything. L'incarnazione del diavolo, that's what he's called. The devil's incarnation. He was the plague inside Pandora's box: cruel, merciless, inhuman-- a chaotic package wrapped up in delightful curly black hair, broad shoulders, and reddish bronze-skin.

Your attention snapped back to the moment when he ripped your flimsy panties off. The sheer power he showed made your core gush as you imagined him using that force to pound into you. The cold air hit your uncovered pussy, but not for long. His warm fingers were immediately shoved inside your needy cunt. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, but soon was reduced to a moaning mess as he began pumping his digits, a thumb joining the others as it rubbed on your clit in the same rhythm. He landed another slap to your ass, the added pleasure from the pain driving your mind into a complete haywire.

"Tsk. I haven't even put my cock in you yet and you're already gone. Don't cum without my permission, or I'll really be angry." His voice was almost drowned out by your sounds. You nodded, but shrieked when he slapped your ass again.

"Answer." He commanded.

"Yes, Daddy!" You all but screamed.

He petted the soreness on your skin, "Good, bambina."

He withdrew his fingers with a wet squelch. You had to quell the protest down your throat. Acting bratty now would just make him delay your orgasm further. You felt him press his length to your slit, teasingly moving the head up and down. You were panting, exhilarated by what he'd do next. To your disappointment, he slid his cock lower, settling in trapping it in between your folds and creating a back and forth motion that sent delicious friction to your clit. His hands came up and slid your bra off, cupping and squeezing your breasts. He flicked at your nipples, rolling the buds and twisting them, making you writhe wildly. You could feel yourself approaching the edge. Your hips began to jerk, meeting his as your ass bounced against his pelvis.

"Daddy! Daddy, please! Please let me cum, please, please, please, please!" You begged, voice cracking with overuse.

He only answered with a breathless 'No' before drawing away.

"Daddy!" Your tone was irritated as you called him, but you could care less. If you didn't die by his hands for acting out of place, then you most definitely would through orgasm denial. At this moment, you'd prefer to perish through the former rather than the latter.

He growled at your attitude, bending down to lay his torso flat against your back as a hand came to slither and clasp around your neck with delectable force. 

"You dare to use that tone on me?!"

You wailed when he plunged his entire shaft inside you-- harshly, no warnings, up to the hilt. 

"I don't think you understand your situation so let me make it clear, cara--" he began thrusting, deep and with so much force that you saw stars whenever his dick dragged along your insides, hitting your G-spot  over and over, "-- I have the power to kill you and make it seem like an accident. I can take everything away from you and make you wish I'd killed you instead. I can strip you naked and let each of my men fuck you. Do not test me again, you hear?"

Though you were lost in delirious bliss, you answered, "Y-Yes, Daddy! I'll be a good girl! I won't make you mad again! I promise! Please, please, please, let me cum!"

He groaned as you began bucking against him, "Not yet."

He increased his pace. He was fucking you so hard that the edgr of the desk dug into your flesh. You were about to go insane. Your thoughts empty aside from the tingling inside you that grew more and more intense. Your senses dulled, mouth dripping with spit, and eyes crossing with how incredibly overstimulated you are. His grip on your neck tightened and he roared.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I'm close! Touch yourself and come with me, baby!" He panted.

You eagerly obeyed, hand slipping down. Your fingers pressed steady circling motions to the bundle of nerves. Your vision was beginning to darken due to the lack of air, but you could only think of chasing your completion.

"Shit, I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Baby-- fuck, cum for me! Now!" He yelled.

You didn't need to be told. Everything blurred, then exploded. Pure, white, hot rapture tore through you as you screamed your lungs out and shook from the orgasm that crashed down on you. You've flung yourself off the cliff, and you relished in the feeling of absolute release. Your insides milked him, contracting and pulling him in even more that he came tumbling after you. You could only faintly recognize the feel of him spilling himself. He came so much that it had nowhere else to go inside you and began spurting out, dribbling down your thighs.

He removed his hand from your neck, scooping you up gently and planting you on his lap as you both collapsed back into his chair. Your vision slowly returned, unfocused eyes affixed to the ceiling. Your chest hurt from breathing--actually, everything hurt, but it was the kind of pain that you loved. The kind that meant you just got your brains fucked to high heavens.

After the both of you had calmed down, he began weaving his hands through your hair.

"Sorry, principessa. It was a bad day." He whispered softly, "Don't worry, I'll have the money deposited to your account before the day ends."

You made a small sound to acknowledge what he said, too tired to do anything else. This was the part where you always fell asleep. Tendrils of drowsiness creeped around your conscious, you were too weary to fight them off. You felt his lips at the crown of your head before succumbing to sleep, lulled by the sound of his steady breathing.

[ineverhaveanynormalfans]

20. masturbation | 21. begging

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Challenge/Prompt:

#kinkmas2020 Day 20. masturbation

#kinkmas2020 Day 21. begging

Warnings: smut, overstimulation, sex toys, Dom/sub play

Pairing/s: Emily Prentiss x Reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 662

AO3

The rumbling buzz of the vibrator was punctuated with your wrecked and desperate moans as your fifth orgasm of the hour washed through you. Your back arched off the bed as your body tensed with the force of another climax and the device quietened a little. Shifting on the bed so you could see her clearly again you met Emily’s dark eyes as she watched you intently, the remote for the toy you had between your legs twirling in her fingers. She had a contented smile on her face, like a cat who had its prey cornered and was toying with it for fun now. ‘Had enough yet love? What’s your colour?’ She spoke softly but every syllable dripped with authority and made your cunt clench around the silicone cock she’d placed there earlier. ‘Green’ you responded defiantly and focused on stealing your shaking hands on the toy that was still nestled between your crimson folds.

‘That’s my girl. Think you can beat your record? Thirteen in under an hour wasn’t it? And you’ve thirty six minutes to go.’ Emily trailed off as she thumbed the remote and the vibrator roared back to full power. Unable to hold it back you cried out as it dragged yet another climax from you, wet and violent as it caused your body to contort. Em stood, the silky robe she favoured falling loose around her naked body as she approached the bed. Reducing the toys ferocity she reached between your spread thighs and slid the dildo back into your cunt, her hand remaining on its base to keep it seated inside you. ‘Looks like we’re in for a messy evening love.’ She murmured and pressed a chaste kiss to your parted lips, nudging the bulbous head of the vibrator so it sat snugly against your clit.

After the tenth orgasm you felt like you’d lost physical form, becoming just a rolling writhing mass of pleasure, muscles limp except for when another peak hit and you tensed up once more. Emily was kneeling between your spread legs now, the dildo kept inside you by her thigh, and the remote discarded as she controlled the vibrating toy by hand. Between orgasms which seemed to roll into one another she would lean over you, her lips reverently worshiping your heated skin, bringing you back to your body briefly before the pleasure took you again. With five minutes left you broke your record in spectacular fashion, gushing over your lovers thighs before collapsing back against the soft bedding and passing out.

You awoke in Emily’s arms, lights dimmed to a soft glow and a blanket draped over you. Her long fingers were running through your hair and you instinctively moved towards the comforting touch. ‘Look who’s awake.’ Emily smiled lovingly at you and kissed you, moving away only so she could grab the bottle from the bedside table. You gulped down half of it in one go, quickly handing it back to her before the shaking of your hands caused you to drop it. Footsteps on the stairs drew your attention and Spencer came in, a plate of toast in one hand and more of your preferred orange juice in the other. ‘Hey, you’re up!’ He seemed surprised but you were too exhausted to do anything except munch on the toast he handed you. Reading your face Emily filled you in on the last few moments of your session, the fourteenth orgasm that had caused you to black out briefly and the pleas you had given when you came out of it initially. ‘You should have told us you were getting close to breaking.’ He chided as he swept your hair back and tied it out of your way. ‘I told you Spence, she’s a stubborn little thing. Too busy trying to beat her own record to notice.’ Emily grinned at you and you blushed, curling in closer to her and giving in to your heavy eyelids as they both finished your toast.

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to  Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records.  Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records.  Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.  

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation. 

 James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.” 

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

 Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits) 

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.     

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it?  Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take: 

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

  Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No. 

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment? 

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found. 

 Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed) 

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No 

Derek Taylor’s take: 

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.  

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”   

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

 claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes  

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”  

Ian Mathers’ take:  

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest. 

 M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

 Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in. 

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while. 

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

 Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No 

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.” 

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience? 

 The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete) 

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No. 

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

 Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No. 

Jason Bivins’ take: 

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

 Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell 

Did we review it? Not yet! 

Mason Jones’ take: 

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

 Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty 

Did we review it? No. 

Ian Mathers’ take: 

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

[worldwidemochiguy]

Hi hi! I love "Made for Each Other"!! Can I please request a (fluffyyyy again) part two where the next morning it is time for Taehyung to go to back to work (I feel like he would have worked from home ever since he kidnapped her until she herself fell in love with him and would not want to leave)? When he says he has to go to work (but will be back) , she bursts into tears and clings to him, not wanting him to leave her even for a second. She wants to be near him and wants more kisses.

hi!!!!!! thank u so much for reading my stuff and also actually enjoying it?? Also thanks for the request you are like so good at giving prompts this one hit me so hard in my uwus. I did add in a lil bit more angst than maybe you were suggesting but I added extra fluff at the end to make up for it :)

Part 1

Masterlist

needy

Taehyung has been awake for almost twenty minutes, still without moving a muscle with the exception of his cheeks as he is unable to stop himself from smiling softly at the sight before him. You are sprawled out on his chest, sleeping contentedly, occasionally emitting quiet noises as you dream. Taehyung wishes he could know exactly what you were dreaming about, he wants to know every single thing about you, down to the smallest, most inconsequential choices your unconscious mind makes. 

He knows he should get up soon and start getting ready for work, but he finds it so difficult to disrupt your sleep, and the two of you are so closely entangled that it will be impossible for Taehyung to move without waking you up. Despite the inconvenience this causes him, it satisfies the deep possessive need within Taehyung to see you so close to him, completely surrounded by his arms, his scent, his bedsheets. 

Part of him wishes he could rescind the call he made yesterday letting his second-in-command Jimin know that he was coming back to work at the office, because he strongly dislikes the idea of you sitting at home, all alone and vulnerable, but he knows that after 6 months of his absence Jimin, however capable he might be, is starting to lose the tight grip Taehyung keeps on his company. Taehyung does not want to go back to work and leave you on your own, but now he knows that he can trust you to wait for him until he gets back without trying to escape. 

The image of you greeting him as he gets back from work on your knees waiting to please him flashes through Taehyung’s mind. 

He mutters a curse and then gently displaces your forehead from his chest, resting it on the pillow instead. A cute frown knits your eyebrows together and Taehyung would probably find it cute if he was not currently sporting a boner — to be fair, he already had morning wood, and that mental image of you kneeling for him hasn’t helped the matter at all. 

He slips out of bed, heading for the ensuite bathroom, pausing when he hears a needy whine from behind him. He turns, boxy-grin already in full bloom, to see you pouting, your messy bed-head splayed across the pillow. Taehyung has never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

“Tae~” you moan, elongating the syllable to show your dismay, and Taehyung wants nothing more than to leap back into bed and kiss you all over.

“Good morning, my love.” He replies instead.

“Come back to bed.” You whine again, and Taehyung is quickly becoming addicted to your needy side. It fuels his ego like nothing else, knowing you need him so much you forgo even your own pride. 

“I have to take a shower, baby. A cold one, unfortunately.” You frown slightly at his words.

“A cold shower? But that’s horrible, why would you-” Taehyung can identify the exact second you notice his erection, hardly concealed in the loose boxers he was wearing. You squeak in understanding — God, you are so cute Taehyung gushes internally — and nod, giving him permission to go. 

After the cold shower — which was entirely ineffectual, Taehyung had to resort to bringing himself to completion with your name on his lips — Taehyung returns to an empty bedroom. He can hear you tinkering about in the kitchen, probably trying to make breakfast, and he smiles. Getting dressed into one of his work suits is an easy routine to slip back into, straightening his cufflinks and clasping a ridiculously expensive watch to his wrist. He has to portray the image of intimidating perfection at all times, and Taehyung is well-practised at being intimidatingly perfect. 

He strolls into the kitchen and wraps his arms around you from behind. You hum and tilt your head back to give him easier access as he presses kisses along your neck. You give in to him without even needing to say anything, and Taehyung couldn’t be happier at how far the two of you have come over the course of 6 months. Yes, it had been trying for his patience at times, but he would do it a thousand times over just for one morning of you burning pancakes on the stove wearing one of his shirts as a nightgown. 

“Baby, I think you can turn the stove off now.” Taehyung murmurs against your jaw and you absentmindedly notice the pancakes you are making are significantly darker and crispier than you planned.

“It’s your fault for distracting me.” You inform him primly, smiling when you feel his chest behind you vibrate with a small chuckle. You turn off the heat, not even attempting to salvage the burnt batter before you turn around to loop your arms around his neck. He presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh contentedly. That contentment however is soon diluted by confusion.

“Why are you wearing a suit? You don’t have to get dressed up for me, Tae.” You question, and his own happy expression dims slightly.

“I have to go to work.” Your face falls, and Taehyung feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

“W-Work?” You stutter. “What do you mean? You’re leaving?” You seem troubled by this and he hurries to comfort you, crushing you into his chest and cradling your head, making shushing noises to placate you.

“I’ll only be gone for the day, I’ll be back before you know it, don’t worry my love.”

“But, I don’t understand,” you argue into his navy suit jacket, “You’ve never gone to work before.”

“Well, that’s because I didn’t want to leave you alone.” Taehyung explains patiently, “Now, I know I  can trust you to be waiting for me here, at home, safe and sound.” He expects this to calm you down, but you stiffen in his arms, and then take two quick steps backwards before he can grab you back.

“So you’re saying… you’ll be leaving me to go to work… every day from now on?” You speak slowly, as if you are forcing the painful words out. When Taehyung can offer nothing else but a nod and an apologetic look, you feel yourself start to cry. Embarrassed for him to see you acting so pathetically, you rush for the bathroom, trying to push past him. He stops you, encasing you in his arms and holding fast, no matter how much you struggle in his arms and tell him to let go in between sobs.

Eventually, you relax into his embrace, clinging to his jacket, staining it with your tears. Naïvely, you hope that this might be enough to stop him from going to work since his suit is no longer impeccable. But then he could probably just wear another suit. He must have many, to wear and go to work day after day, leaving you alone again and again and again-

Your sobs intensify, regardless of Taehyung’s efforts to calm you by running his fingers through your hair and rubbing your back. Listening to you cry so bitterly, and knowing he was the cause of your tears, made Taehyung want to start crying himself, but he knew he had to be strong for you. 

“Baby,” Taehyung whispers, and then is interrupted by your hiccup-ing sobs, “Baby, I’ll be back in a matter of hours. I promise, I will always return home to you. I’ll have my phone with me, so I’ll probably be blowing up for phone with a million texts a day every time I get a break between meetings.” You don’t seem to be comforted by his words, so Taehyung continues his efforts. “I’ll even call you so you can hear my voice, I’m the boss so no one can scold me for making personal calls!” 

“B-but you w-won’t be here.” You stutter, and he kisses you, hoping the obvious show of his affection will please you. You let yourself get lost in the kiss, allowing him to assume control and walk you backwards slowly until you were, yet again, pressed between him and the wall. He is trying to show the depth of his love for you, kissing you deeply and pulling back to mark your neck, to show you were his.

“Please don’t go,” you whisper brokenly, looking into the far distance as a tear slips down the side of your face, and Taehyung feels his heart shatter into a million pieces, “Don’t leave me here. You’re all I’ve had for months now, you’re the only thing I have, and I need you, please, please don’t leave me.” Taehyung straightens up to crush you into his chest again. You keep whispering pleas into his collar and Taehyung considers the benefits of quitting his job. He is fully prepared to make the call and tell Jimin he isn’t coming into the office after all, before he had a brilliant idea. 

“Baby,” Taehyung starts, and you look up at him, hope shining in your eyes. “I have to go into work,” the hope vanishes and you almost start to cry again until Taehyung continues, “But there’s no reason why you can’t come with me.” You stare at him, wide-eyed and breathless, and his signature boxy-grin reappears again. 

“Listen,” he begins, excitedly, “I have my own floor on the building. Now, that includes a board room and an office for meetings and boring shit like that,” you giggle and he almost sags in relief, “But there’s also a sitting room, with comfortable couches and a bed for when I sleep at the office. That room is basically forbidden for anyone but me to enter, so that means if I take you to work with me each day, you’ll have somewhere safe and cosy for you to relax and I’ll be able to check up on you and give you kisses every, hmmm, let’s say, thirty seconds or so.”

He gives a demonstration of the kisses he described, pressing his lips to every inch of skin on your face and neck, straying down to your collarbones, while all the while you giggle at his affectionate behaviour, your tears long forgotten. You can’t believe you are so lucky to have Taehyung, who is prepared to take you with him to work so that you can spend as much time together as possible. The times when you had hated or even mildly disliked him, for you can’t ever imagine hating Taehyung, were rapidly fading from your mind, being replaced by moments like these, where he had started tickling your sides, making you laugh so hard you could barely stand up. 

“Tae- Tae- Tae-” you gasp his name in between shrieks as he mercilessly attacks your ticklish sides. He pulls back suddenly just to look at you, your flushed cheeks and your eyes, still slightly watery but now full of happiness and laughter. He cups your cheeks between his hands and leans down bringing his face to yours. You meet him in the middle, standing on your tiptoes as you share a sweet, chaste kiss, still managing to convey your passion and depth of emotion.

“Tae,” you breathe out once you pull back; he chases your lips and kisses you again before replying,

“Yes, baby?”

“I love you.” He smiles and takes your left hand, running his thumb over your ring finger for a moment.

“I love you too, and I always will. Now come on, we have to get to work!” 

[golddaggers]

untouched || chapter one

not mine but god he pulls it off

pairings: alpha!thor x omega!reader, natasha x reader (friendship folks tho i was really tempted to add something more ugh hahaha)

warnings: hmmm, cursing, i suppose (?), lots of knuckles kissing by thor and a lot of background on her, which is not that pretty. well. 

a/n: took me long enough to finally finish this hahaha, i always wanted to keep adding stuff and adding and adding. well. i hope it turned out well? lemme know!

word count: 8,7k+

song to this chapter: i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys

The night went by incredibly sweaty and hot, she flipped under the thick sheets, trying to find a better way to sleep. Nonetheless, her mind could only spin around thoughts inspired by that Alpha. Around Thor. She was curious about him, about that thunderstorm smell that made her feel like he's home. Like he’s that childhood place she'd go to hide from the rain.

As soon as the sun sneaks through a rift in the curtains, she stands up, deciding it was useless to dwell much into it. This feeling… It was hormonal, the normal reaction of an Omega towards an Alpha, nature making sure the species would continue. That was it, she pleads with herself.

Shrugging off the navy blue t-shirt she had slept in and the pair of underwear, the girl walked to the small bathroom of the quite big room Natasha had settled her in. It had a full sized bed in middle, its purple sheets, which were reeking off of lavender, messily sprawled all around it, two nightstands by each side, one even had an antique candlestick on, scented candles slowly melting. There was also a small couch by the large windows, framed by carmine curtains. Overall, it sort of reminded her of what a royal bedroom should look like.

The bathroom, however, was simpler. A white, porcelain tub on one corner, the toilet facing it while the sink stood on its left. Under, a nice cabinet, which was the first place she looked for soap and shampoo. A good shower to finally clean herself from the dust that stained her cheeks still. Possibly other bits of her body as well. Regardless of still being early in the evening, as soon as she was established, the girl quickly dozed off, sleeping so soundly and for so many hours that when she woke up, between yaws, she found a tray filled with food on her nightstand to dine.

She sighed, wondering who had been on her room in the middle of the night, despite being perfectly able to feel the faint thunderstorm scent still pungent in the air. There's no way he would have bothered to bring her food personally. Perhaps her nose was lying, still high on that intoxicating odour.

At last, she grabbed everything she needed, a little bit excited to find a razor blade as well. It had been a while she was granted all those luxuries, her poor heritage almost screaming for her not to abuse their hospitality. Honestly, she couldn’t believe her own luck that they hadn’t thrown her out in the spot.

While the water warmed up, she rubbed the soap on her calves, running the blade up to remove the body hair, banging the razor against the tub's surface to properly clean it. With shaved legs, she tasted the water using her feet, groaning when feeling it so warm and delicious, slipping under easily. Her body floats for a minute, in torpor. It was so relaxing she even forgot there was life outside.

After she thanked the heavens again for all that kindness, the woman went on with her shaving, peeling off the hair under her armpits. In the meanwhile, her mind swirled into unsettling thoughts, questioning the reasons why they haven't told her to go away yet. Yes, werewolves are really into all that "you are one of us" thing, but she didn't belong to that pack. She didn't belong anywhere if she was entirely honest.

With the razor lying on the flat surface next to her, the girl went under the water, drenching all of her hair at once. A shower head would be way more effective, but since there was none, not that she was complaining, she'd have to work things out the way they were. Applying a little bit of shampoo on her scalp, she began rubbing, trying to untangle while doing so.

A minute or two in, she dove back inside the tub, trying to take all the white foam. It would take a while to completely rinse it off, though. Groaning in frustration, she allowed her body to float for a while again, going up with a head heavy from the soaked hair. There was a moment of silence, her bottom lip resting between her teeth as she stared at the razor and the spot between her legs, realising she was down one region.

Finally, ignoring altogether the splashing water when she moved, the girl sat on one of the bathtub edges, spreading her legs and gripping the razor blade. Something roared inside her, her brain shooting images of a certain Alpha bent forward, those pink lips swollen from kissing- If it ever came to that, she wanted him to be pleased with what he’d find underneath her clothes.

“Don’t be stupid”, she scolded herself. Not that she was ugly or anything, she was actually kind of nice looking, but that man? She was convinced that if those myth gods from the tales her mother told her as an infant, he would be one of them, with that blond hair and blue eyes, a body so muscular and thick. From all of his features, what intrigued her the most, however, was his scent, the way it undid all worries and broke down all of her guards, it was all new. She’d never felt anything like it.

Of course, in the past, she had come close to many Alphas, one, in the matter, came really close to claiming her. She couldn’t be any older than fifteen when her father tried to ship her off into a marriage with a mid-thirties man. He had mean eyes, his smell annoyed her to the bone. Purely out of luck, her mother was able to intervene, otherwise, she’d be forever stuck to a man she didn’t love. Oh, how she missed her mother.

A small pile of hair puddled where she gently tapped with the razor to remove the excess. It was almost done. Once she finished showering, she would go look for Natasha to ask if there was anything she could do in that house, cleaning, cooking, taking care of animals or the kids. Anything. It was the payment for all the niceness they had given her. It was the least she could do.

As she was about to strip the last part, a noise came from the room, someone fumbling with the knob. The girl slipped into the tub, the razor opening a fairly big cut on her inner thigh, blood gushing while water flooded the tiled floor. Ugh. For a werewolf, she lacked the steadiness and grace of one.

“Little wolf, are you okay?” Thor’s voice filled the room, concern dripping from it. “I smell blood.”

“I-I, uh-” The bathroom door was flung open, electric blue irises scanning her thoroughly. “-I was taking a shower and, well, I am okay. Don’t worry. I mean, not that you are worried.”

“Where are you bleeding from?” He asked, wearily looking away, once he realised how very much naked she was.

“My thigh.” It was so low, she thought he’d miss it. Apparently, he didn’t, his features relaxing as he knelt in the same cabinet she took the things to shower, an aid kit between his hands.

“Get out of there so I can help you.” The demanding tone of his voice almost made her comply without question, though the bashfulness got the best of her. “What is the  matter, little wolf?”

“You… You don’t have to do this. I mean, it’s really just a small cut and I’m, well, naked. I’m sure you have seen plenty of naked women, but you haven’t seen me naked, so-” Her rambling urged a chuckle out of him, Thor leaning against the wall as he inspected the mess she’d made. “What is it?”

“You’re adorable.” It made her insides twist, a low gasp slipping. “Come out, little wolf. We need to talk."

"Yeah, I know. Gimme' a minute? I'm almost over. Promise."

"I'll be waiting outside."

After a short nod, she was left alone, slightly dizzy from the heady, intoxicating scent he had left all around the bathroom. It had even her oblivious shame that he had seen her without any clothes on fade away.

Head thrown back, she did her best to speed things along, finally finishing the bath, feeling very refreshed. It was good to have warm water for once. Wrapped around a towel, she marched back into the room, finding Thor on the grey upholstered storage bench. It had totally passed through her senses she'd forgotten to make her bed. By now he was probably thinking that she couldn’t clean up after herself.

"I take you're well settled?"

"Very much, thank you." Struggling to get air into her lungs, she spots the clothes folded and placed on her bed, going over to snatch them. "I, um, I have absolutely no way to pay you back for all of this. I can work for you if you please. There must be something for me to do-"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't accept that." Thor exhales deeply. "Natasha said I shouldn't come over here because you might feel uncomfortable."

If it was anybody else, she probably would. Her efforts to push the memories from yesterday to the depths of her mind were consuming much of her energy so she wouldn't be able to deal with other people so early in the morning. Except him. His presence made her feel at ease, it helped her rather than get in the way.

Her suddenly relaxation doesn’t go unnoticed, a minimum smirk pulling the right corner of his lip up. She gives her back to him, slipping on the set of knickers, loose cotton grey shorts and a mush-green tank top. The lack of a bra made her feel somewhat exposed, but she wouldn't wear the clothes from the day before again. Not ever.

"But I don't make you uncomfortable, do I?" There was a slight urgency underneath his voice. "I can ask her to have this conversation with you if you think it's better."

"No. You are fine." She sat beside him, shoulders grazing lightly. "I'm sorry for the mess."

"Not a problem, little wolf. Sorry for what happened yesterday."

She shrugs.

"It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't be out, so that's on me."

"No, it's not your fault," Thor states eyes widen. There's sympathy swimming on that blue sea. "They have been dealt with, so you don't have to worry."

"Are they…?" The words die out on her mouth.

"Dead? No. But they won't be bothering you or any other Omegas."

"That's good, I guess."

She looks away, focusing on one yellow spot on the white wall, trying her best to refrain the compulsion to plop down on his lap and bury her nose into the crook of his neck, taking all of that petrichor, all of that wet green leaves, all of that thunderstorm. Ever since she could remember, she adored them, the rippling of thunders and bolts of lightning in the sky, so it seemed a little ironic that his scent became her favourite. It was the best she caught, the one that affected her the most.

Throughout the years, she found herself smitten by men, by Alphas. She was still relatively young, so there weren’t many as one might think, but not one of them got to her like Thor. And she didn’t even harbour feelings for him. The girl cursed her own biology for that, concluding that her Heat might be closer than she calculated it to be. That was the only obvious explanation for this sudden spark.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she allowed his taste to swirl carefree across her taste buds, her mind spinning. It was strong. Strong enough to make her dizzy. Her inhibitors pitching low and making her throw her head back, wondering if he was purposely making you feel like that or if it was out of his control. Wondering if he felt the same. If he felt hot. Bothered.

“Thor.” She whimpers, lowly. “I-I…”

“Sorry, little wolf. Just trying to make you feel calm.”

“I’m thankful, but I-I… I won’t…”

Her chest rises and falls in a frantic pace, the girl struggling to breathe normally. It felt like she had run a marathon, sweat hoarding at her hairline. She had no idea when or how things escalated so quickly, still, the will to straddle him, feel the stiffness within his jeans trousers, was way past a will, but become a bruising need.

“I should go.” Thor mumbles, pupils were blown out, a predator gleam beneath the thin blue lines around the black. “We can talk later.”

“N-no… I just need a minute.”

He pulls back for an instant, giving her the space needed and lifting the spell his scent placed on her. The girl pressed her thighs together, clawing the skin of her forearms to focus on reality rather than the bubble suddenly created between them. She couldn’t let it control her, no matter how good he was to her, she needed to pull through the craving.

She gazes up at him, finding the tall figure resting his back against the wall, near the room’s door. The blue of his t-shirt enveloping what she knew were strong muscles caught her eye, it was a point of focus to bring her senses back.

It was scary as hell to feel like this. So out of control.

“I’m really sorry, little wolf.”

“It’s fine, I’m just not used to it. Not this strong.” The smile on his lips is apologetic, blue irises bleeding through the black of the pupils. "What did you want to talk?"

"Your stay." She agrees with a head movement. "Do you have somewhere to go? You're not bitten, but do you have a family?"

"I, well, I live alone. In a tiny room in the city, which I pay off by working at a nursing home. It's a horrible job, but at least I earn enough to survive and the ladies are fairly nice. You don't want to know this stuff, I know. Okay, I'll just stay quiet now."

A bright smile reveals his white, straight teeth underneath. Her breath falters for a split second, forcing her to look away.

"It's okay, you can talk as much as you like."

"No, my father says men don't want to listen to women wailing." It's a shameful whisper, her brain reprimanding herself for being so chatty. From the corner of her eye, she catches Thor shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You are not wailing and I am willing to hear you talk." Kneeling, he puts a strand of hair behind her ear, using his index and thumb to grip her chin and make her look up at him. He's lost on those sweet, innocent eyes. "Do you want to stay, little wolf? I will take care of you if want me to."

"You're not…?" She doesn't need to specify for him to understand what she's asking.

"No. I'm not bonded to anyone, but it wouldn't matter. I want to care for you."

The impulse to touch him strikes again, only this time she doesn't fight back, her hand cupping his cheek, the nicely trimmed beard scraping the skin as she rubbed. Thor leans into her caress, rumbling as he does so. She had soft, delicate hands that make filthy thoughts come up to his head, which he had to brush it off before things got out of hand again.

It was true. He wanted to take care of her, his insides were pushing him into taking the responsibility, even though he had met her not much more than twenty-four hours. She just had those puppy eyes that nearly forced him to engulf her in his arms to protect that little wolf from all harm.

"What's your decision, little wolf?" He brings her knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly and respectfully. "You can go back to your family and to your beloved ones. This is not a prison."

"I know." A low purring sound slips from her as she leans in to press her cheek against his neck. "I want to stay. I don't have anyone else either way. But I’m okay doing work, seriously, I don’t want to feel as if I am taking advantage of your hospitality."

"Hmm, you're not, but you can do whatever you please." It comes out in a harsh gasp, his raspy voice even deeper. "You'll be busy either way. Natasha will come by later to get you ready for your lessons."

"Lessons?"

"You need to learn how to take care of yourself." His tone shifts to something more austere, blue eyes burning her alive. "This pack… I am supposed to watch out for the others, each wolf that swings around."

"Does that mean you are a supreme Alpha?" The realisation that she was in front of the highest class of the werewolf hierarchy sends a fearful chill down her spine. "My mother told me about them when I was a little girl."

Thor snickers at the image of a tiny child with ponytails listening to bedtime stories about wolves. The sense of protection tightens inside him, a strong force washing him entirely. This girl lacked so much in her life it made him guilty he hadn't found her sooner.

"Yes, I am. Been since my father's demise." His voice gets lower when mentioning his father, only to shrug it off and gaze down, sinking into her neck, arms unexpectedly around her waistline. "You smell pretty good."

A soft whimper pushes through as she tangles her fingers in his blond hair, finding out it was even better and smoother than she thought. Carefully, she puts her own arms around the broad shoulders, diving into the hug. It felt good. She, in one of the rarest moments of her life, felt safe.

There was this humming sound coming from his chest as his nose trailed up her neck, taking in her scent, feeling himself get drunk in it. His mind fought to get control back but it couldn't, not when the instincts were this strong. The bud just at the crook of her neck called him out again, how he wanted to bite it.

"Um-" She whispers unsure. "-Thor,"

"Yes?"

"I think someone's coming." With her nose in the air, she recognised the azaleas odour quickly. "Natasha."

"Good nose, little wolf." There's a lingering when he kisses her cheek. "You'll stay then?"

"I will."

Not a little after he reluctantly releases the wrap on her, a gorgeous red haired woman walked inside, carrying a tray with much more food than she had had in a week, which was saying a lot, considering she barely had enough to pay for rent.

Natasha cocked an eyebrow, glaring up from the newest pack addition to her Alpha, wondering to herself how she'd clean up his mess this time. Not that he was much of a womaniser, but he also wasn't the settle down sort of man, which was why she was always comforting the Omegas that fell for him.

Dammit.

"Didn't know you were here, Boss."

"Just checking in with her, Natasha." Thor towers her, one large hand on her shoulder. "She's staying with us after all."

"That's good, Feisty." She winks at the girl still sat on the upholstered storage bench, who smiles shyly, gazing down. "I could've done that for you, you know."

"Yeah, but I wanted to talk to her myself." His shoulders drop. "Get her to meet everybody else and be sure to start training her."

"Train her? You don't seriously think she's got in her to be a fighter, do you?" Natasha's astonishing green eyes were wide. "She's sweet and innocent, Boss, she should be taking care of our children, not in the field, fighting."

"Do as I tell you to do." It comes out so harshly, Romanoff shrinks a little, all of her instincts telling her to bow to her superior when her mind screams to shove a punch on that stupid bloody jaw of his. "I need to go to the city, duty calls. I'll be back for dinner."

"Sure thing, Boss."

As soon as he leaves the room, Natasha huffs, placing the tray on the left nightstand. The other woman had stayed quiet, simply observing them discuss, the pair had such a silent intimacy when talking she could guess they were lovers at some point. Despite knowing it was crazy, everything about the last day was, she felt herself a little jealous.

Smacking her lips, she stood up, going over to pick up an apple, Natasha still watching her, analysing and thinking how she could turn that girl into a warrior. Thor was crazy. Really, completely insane.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?"

"Sure, Ms Natasha."

"Call me Nat, Feisty." With an eye roll, she chuckles. "Don't get involved with Thor."

"Are you two…?"

"No!" There's a burst of laughter all of a sudden. "I'd never… I have my eyes on somebody else."

"Oh."

"What I'm saying is he's a complicated man and I don't want you to get hurt."

Of course. The thrilling that was still pumping across her veins started to die out, his presence no longer speeding up the adrenaline production, her mind snapping back into place, clawing its way back from the pit it had been thrown inside when that thunderstorm walked inside her room.

"Sure. I see."

"Now finish eating and come with me, we have got a lot to do today."

The mansion was far prettier than she remembered it to be from what she saw the day before. It had many rooms, most of them already occupied by the house wolves of all kinds, Alphas, Betas, Omegas… Natasha explained to her that it was Thor’s responsibility to watch out for them, the less favoured, the pack-less ones, to nurture them as long as they needed it. Some left after a couple of months, others after a few years, but there were always some who stayed. Like herself.

It was a lovely morning outside, the sun bathing every living thing. From the tall trees, wildflowers and chirping birds to the moist soil. A summer day indeed, her senses vibrating to the good energy. She enjoyed those the most, especially as a kid, when she could watch the white clouds take different shapes in the blue, clear sky whilst her skin tingled to the radiating heat coming from above.

Circling the house, there was a quite nice backyard, where a couple of people were exercising. Some were doing laps across the green field, some were wrestling in a corner and the rest was just enjoying the good day, sitting in picnic towels to chat. They lived so peacefully in there she couldn’t fathom how could some leave that place.

“Hey, Nat.” One tall, blond man jogged towards the two. “Who’s this one?”

“This is Steve, Feisty,” Natasha says, smiling. “She came here yesterday, the Johnny and Louis situation.” The name of her assaulters makes the girl sway in her steps, suddenly nervous, which doesn’t go unnoticed. “Oh, sweetie, don’t worry, really. Those guys, they didn’t really belong to our pack, they were just doing business for Thor, low-class soldiers.”

“It’s fine.” The woman whispers, still adjusting to the place where she can actually vocalise what she feels. “It’s not your fault, anyway.”

“She looks sweeter than feisty, Nat.” Steve smiles comforting, sustaining the distance to make sure she would calm down and changing the subject. “But I suppose you see it in her.”

“He wants to make her a fighter.” She trails off, not bothering to specify whom she was talking about, Steve already knew, apparently. “Wants the whole training.”

His blue eyes shift between the two, taking a moment to scan the new girl. Much like Natasha, Steve seemed to think she also couldn’t be a warrior, which was starting to make her uncertain. Perhaps they were right. Maybe she didn’t have it in her to be a fighter... But she wanted to learn. She wanted to be able to defend herself so those filthy men couldn’t lay a hand on her ever again.

Of course, she didn’t dare to say something, keeping her eyes down meticulously.

“But has he asked her if she wants to?”

“I do.” It was soft, low sound. “I want to learn.”

“Okay, maybe she is feisty after all.” There’s a bright, beautiful smile on his kind face. “Do you want me to teach her, Nat?”

“On Thursdays, I suppose.” Nat sighs. “You know it’s the day he ships me off to hunt. The others, I’ll be with her. I think it’s best if she sticks with me for now.”

“Alright.” Her ears warm up when he looks at her again, she can catch the Alpha scent reeking from him. Not like Thor’s at all. He was more like old parchments and ink, a fresh new book and, oddly, Tulips. It wasn’t usual for Alphas to have a flowery odour. “It was nice to meet you, Feisty.”

She nods, sheepishly snickering at him before following Natasha through the people, whom the red hair made sure to introduce to her. The slender, gracious girl in the picnic towel was Wanda, she was a lovely Beta who looked out for the much younger children, the newborns Morgan and Harvey were her new concern, although they were the sweetest babies. Their heads smelt like powder and apples.

With a little bit of effort, Natasha got her moving, if it was up to her, she’d stay there the whole afternoon rubbing her nose on those little, soft heads. Despite being an Omega, meaning she knew she was born to be a mother, the desire was never really strong on her. Perhaps it was the fact she never found an Alpha that brought such desires within her.

The path was not over yet, so they kept walking, finding three of the most different men amidst themselves. Bucky was tall, handsome and smelt rough. Like he could single-handed curl a whole human body into a ball and toss it around like a basketball. Tony was shorter, a greyish beard covering his slim cheeks. A little weird, she thought, but he looked nice, his hands were warm when they shook hers. He also radiates confidence. Bruce was the last to be introduced. Opposed to Tony, he had a nervousness going on. It was so strong her nose crinkled to the smell.

Natasha spoke briefly with them, giving them tasks, for what she could discern. That woman should be the supreme Alpha’s right hand in ruling that place. Thor should really trust her, the girl presumes, to entitle her with so many responsibilities. She could see why, nonetheless - Natasha was strong, her presence alone imposes respect to anyone who looks at her, the way her chin is always up and shoulders always squared, no one would dare to cross her.

A couple minutes later, they stopped in front of a closed metal door, to which the red hair promptly opened with a small key that was tucked under her belt. The room behind was astonishingly nice, a large mirror covering the front wall, a fading grey ground with two sets of orange mats precisely apart and a few heavy sandbags in one corner.

While the girl was still in awe, absorbing the new surroundings, Natasha kicked off her shoes and the sweatshirt she had on, getting comfortable to practice. She’d start with focus, some light yoga classes to bring out the awareness and sense, also to warm up the muscles. Perhaps then she’d show her how to throw a powerful punch. Kicks would be nice as well.

The red hair went over stealthily towards the girl, both hands on her shoulders, correcting her stance, which got Feisty startled, her body jerking forward in fear. There was a soft laugh as she spun around to meet the green-eyed gaze from behind.

“Lesson number one? Never let your guard down.”

“Duly noted.”

“The key to being a good fighter is to be aware, Feisty.” It’s a fast movement and before she can tell, Nat pushes her to the ground, resting above her while pinning her hands up above her head. “Each flinch counts to save your life on the field.”

Squirming, she tries to break free, something that proves to be useless because the woman knows how to use her weight to keep her grounded, restrained. It is only when a low, frustrated grunt slips past Feisty’s lips that Romanoff lets her go, coming off of her to a sitting position, gently asking her to do the same, obtaining a religious result from the girl’s instinct to obey.

“Close your eyes.” Joining their hands, Nat watches her lids fall shut, chin still up, a flawless position. “Good. Now tell me. What do you hear?”

There’s a minor hesitation as the girl focuses on what her ears are telling.

“Fighting. There are two men panting, one is more injured because his breath is faltering.” Perhaps teaching her wouldn’t be as hard as she thought, Natasha’s mind wanders. “There are three kids running, one is heavier than the others because the footsteps sound harsher on the mud. Tony is complaining about the sweat and scolding Bruce for not bringing water.”

“Okay. Nice, Feisty. Good ear.” The girl opens her eyes to find her trainer’s features filled with satisfaction. “I’ll need you to focus on your breathing, forget the other sounds, pin yourself to this place, to the lift and fall of your belly. You can close your eyes if you want.”

It was a nice, comforting thing to do. Despite doing heavy work, Nat’s hands were smooth, so she chose to focus on that and the sound of the inflating of her own chest and how the air seeped through her nostrils so loudly. An awareness of her space began growing as the breath deepened, muscles stretching on her back, legs strong to keep her in place.

All the noise went mute, the ones in the room conquering her mind entirely. It also gave room for her to deliberate on how much her life changed in the past twenty-four hours, one day she was sleeping on a thin bed, barely enough to sustain her weight, and the other she was in a mansion, being nourished and welcomed by those wolves who didn’t even know her.

Before she could even settle to what was happening, Natasha lurched at her, dropping her to the ground once more, palm strongly against her sternum. It was a swift, gracious movement, one that many soldiers lacked, possibly giving the upper hand to her in a confrontation. Feisty groans, cursing herself for being distracted.

“I’m sorry.” An apologetic whimper comes through, whinier than it was intended to be. “It’s just so much to take in.”

“I know.” She’s gentle when she answers. “Being good at this doesn’t come naturally.”   

“I sure hope it doesn’t.” The joke is greeted with a laugh, Natasha rolling to the right and coming to a sitting position beside her, legs curled so she could hug them tight, cheek pressed on her knee. Her green eyes were nearly liquid. “Who taught you?”

“No one important."

“Do you think I can do it?”

“You can do whatever you want, Feisty.”  

“No,” Shaking her head, she toughens her glare, wishing to know her thoughts. “Do you think I can be good at this?”

A wave of guilt washes over the red hair, she never meant to bring such insecurity into that girl. When she questioned her boss as to why he wanted her to be a warrior, it was more in a protective way rather than a diminishing one.

“With training, yes. Of course.” She swallows hard, suddenly serious. “But really, do you want this? Do you want to fight?"

“I want to.” It’s a shy sigh. “I want to be able to stand up for myself, to not let people bully me or treat me like I'm nothing."

"It's not going to be easy, Feisty. You need to seriously commit."

"Ms Natasha-" There's a scowl on that gorgeous face. "-Nat," They giggle together. "I don’t have anywhere else to be. Don’t have any family, never really belonged to a pack. Committing to this place won’t really be hard.”

“How did you end up here? In this town, I mean.”

There is a silent juncture as she thought of the reasons that actually brought her to that city in particular. Honestly, it had been a random place, anywhere would be good as long as her father was far away from her. With her mum’s demise, she knew for sure that he would finally ship her off into the hands of a horrible old Alpha. So she ran, in the middle of a stormy night, clothes soaking wet when she walked inside the bus, not enough money in her pocket to last an entire week.

A tear streamed down, followed by many others. The bitter memories flooding and bringing out the emotions she fought hard every day to keep buried.

“You don’t have to talk about it, Feisty.” Nat nudges her shoulders, pulling her into a side hug. “I was just curious.”

“It’s fine, Nat, really, I just don’t feel comfortable yet to talk about it.” There’s understanding infused in the green of her eyes. “Can we go back to training?”

“Absolutely. Let’s work on your posture.”

She frowns, unsure of what she means. Up until now, she thought there was nothing wrong with it. Romanoff smiles, stretching her hand to guide her so they could stand in the middle of one of the mats, then swivelling around so she could be behind her, one hand over her tummy and the other between her shoulder blades.

“It’s really important to know where you stand and have some balance,” Nat explains. “That has a lot to do with your posture.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You need to realise the weight of your body and shift it into your favour, so when you’re punching or kicking someone, you don’t end up with broken bones or distended muscles.” Her breath fans over the nape of Feisty’s neck. “Inhale. Exhale. Deeply.”

More breathing cycles and she starts to realise the energy flowing inside her, the weight each of her limbs represent. No doubt as to why Thor trusts her. Natasha really knows what she’s doing, what she’s teaching. Sure, there is still a long path ahead for her to become somewhat good at it, though she had a feeling that being mentored by Nat would certainly speed things up.

“Curl your hands into fists. That’s it.” Velvet hands instruct her arms to take the correct place, one slightly higher than the other, both beneath her chin. "Bend your knees." A delicate pressure from her own makes the girl bend. "Good. Hold for a moment."

Twitching on the muscles of her thighs makes her sway, Natasha going back behind her to ground her into place. It takes a while before she can do that alone, but as soon as she can, her trainer commands her to throw her first punch, the air whooshing as she does so. "Again". Another. And another. She kept punching the air until the Nat looked pleased with the precision.

Then, after a short break for a sip of water, it was time to finally get it going with the heavy sandbags. The warning that she’d be sore the next day wasn’t necessary. Natasha wrapped the girl’s hands with some white bandage to somehow protect the fingers and knuckles from the damage punching the bags could cause.

“Remember to put your weight into the punch, it’s more your arm than your fist.”

“Okay, I think I got it.”

“It’ll hurt.” The warning comes one second too late, her fist had already met the bag and a sharp pain was spreading quickly.  “You did good, don’t worry.”

“But it hurts!” She stutters, a gush of blood pooling on her neck and making it warm. A sign of embarrassment.

“Normal.” A slow massage eases the pain, soothing fingers touching the bruised skin. “What you have to do is pull through the pain, let it flow to the back of your arm, then you won’t feel so much.”

“Okay.”

The practice went on until it was almost two pm and the two women were definitely starving, stomachs growling rebelliously to get some food.

As they made their way back to the huge mansion, Feisty thought about Thor again. How he changed her life so much in so little time. If he hadn’t insisted for her to be trained, she wouldn’t be feeling that satisfied about her accomplishments, she wouldn’t be feeling this powerful, even though all she had learnt, and barely, was to punch a sandbag. It still felt big for her, so she made a mental note to search for him as soon as he gets home and thank him for all of that.

The wet green leaves, petrichor and thunderstorm scent came to her brain quickly, bringing along a huge smile. She was in trouble with that Alpha. Big trouble.

Night fell slowly, a mixture of pink, purple and orange still colouring the sky when she walked inside her bedroom, kicking off her shoes while putting her hair up in a bun, wiping the annoying sweat off of her forehead. It was crazy how hot it still was despite being close to ten pm.

A cold shower would be nice before sleep, she thinks, starting to undress herself, noticing a minor discomfort due to the new activities she had been doing throughout the day.  She hadn’t had a minute of rest, because as soon as lunch was over, Natasha took her back to the training room, easing her into the defence techniques. Feisty had been thrown on the ground more times than she could count that afternoon.

When dinner time came, her heart filled with hope and a longing to finally see those comforting blue eyes again, the sweet, but tough face. And to smell him. She came to know most of the scents in the house and not even one matched the effects Thor's had on her, even the Alphas. It felt to her that heady odour had been made for her, to calm and entice her at the same time. However, much to her disappointment, he never came. Never returned home.

Nat’s words thrummed within her head. She knew him for over six years now, that was how long she had been part of his pack, had been his friend. Of course, she was right about him, no matter how strongly Feisty’s gut pushed her into opening up her emotions into caring for Thor. Into opening her emotions up to welcome the Alpha gladly.  

Ugh.

Tossing the worn out outfit into a messy pile over the couch by the window, she quickly made her way towards the wardrobe, amazing herself upon finding stacks of new clothes inside it. They had been recently bought because they still had the labels from the shop, she was quick to pick one cute pyjama, loose grey shorts and a carebear white t-shirt. It’d be perfect to sleep on that hot night.  

Determined to inspect more of the piece of furniture, she got down on her knees and opened the bottom drawers only to find a variance of knickers and bras, of all colours, shapes and taste. Whoever bought all of those aimed to please her.

There was a moment of analysing before she finally chose one that'd be comfortable for sleeping, nestling it between the soft flannels PJ's. Only then she went to the bathroom, feeling icky from the sweat coating her back, arms and face.

The towel from the morning had been hung on a metal hanger by the door, possibly already dry from the warm temperatures. She snorted, not minding if it was or not, her room felt like an oven, so maybe she should skip the whole wiping the water off of her body.

Once under the cool water, hair bundled at the top of her head, Feisty moaned in pleasure, the water washing away the dirt. Her hands trailed down, rubbing gently the skin, the soap she had squished minutes before bubbling up. Two baths in one day? Heaven, her mind hummed, in full appreciation.

Between toes, under the arms. Bit by bit she cleaned herself up, feeling refreshed each second further into the shower. Once there was nothing else to wipe off, she stepped out, firmly decided to indeed not go for the towel, walking out very much naked.

What she wasn't expecting was to find a majestic man slouched on the couch, long legs wide while he was thrown back, lids heavy. Thor was handsomely asleep. She refrained the urge to trace the creases along his face with the tip of her fingers, abruptly realising how bare she was, the second time of that day he'd barged inside her room while showering.

A chuckle slipped as she got dressed quickly, being extra careful on her steps to not wake him up. He looked so peaceful, gentle. If anything, she wanted to pull him to her chest and undo the knots on his long, blond hair at leisure. Hear a soft moan of appreciation from him.

She sat beside him a few minutes later, just watching him. The soft wrinkles under his eyes, a grown out beard framing the most beautiful set of lips she'd seen, so pink and full. A gentle whimper fell off her lips, a tug at her lower abdomen forcing her legs to clasp together.

The sound startled him awake, electric blue scanning her whole to make sure she was okay. Thor had never experimented that before. Never had such a need to watch out after an Omega, an overwhelming pressure of his instincts.  

His hands found their way into cradling her face, pulling her closer to him, thumbs trailing up the cheekbones.

"Are you okay, little wolf?"

"Yeah." She says, lost in the sea of his eyes. "Are you?"

It was naive of her to ask, she realised soon. Of course, he was, despite looking tired, okay. He was mighty, it would take an immense power to even scratch him.  

Thor's booming laugh filled the room.

"Yes. I am okay." Soon enough he buried his head in the crook of her neck, taking in her inebriating scent. Not an ounce of shame in his features, like it was something he did on a daily basis. Like they weren't strangers. "You're so sweet, little wolf. Were you worried about me?"

"Y-yes." The vibration of his voice made her stutter. "I wanted to thank you, but you didn’t come for dinner."

The arms wounded around her waistline tightened, protectively inching her closer, in a way that forced her cheek into his strong shoulder, a surprised squeal falling from her lips.

“I don’t want you worrying about me.” His voice pitched low, lips now pressed on the top of her head. “I care for you, not the other way around.”

“Thor…” It’s nothing but a mellow whisper, but something inside him stirs, a grumbling coming from his chest. “I-I… Why do I feel like this?”

“Like what?” The question is more rhetorical than an actual doubt. He knows what she’s on about. If she feels an inch of what he feels when he’s around her then they’re both in trouble.

She sighs, wiggling out of his sheltering hug only to stand on her knees, arms wrapping around his wide shoulders in a motherly way, huddling him against her chest, his face nuzzled on her breasts. Thor didn’t complain, humming instead in a pleasing way.

“Like what, little wolf?” He urges voice muffled on the t-shirt.

"I don't know. I can't explain it. It's just, we met a day ago and your scent is so overwhelming… I've never felt like this before. Never so soon and never so strong."

Thor lets out the air in his lungs in sharp exhale, pushing her away delicately so he could look into the so very much innocent eyes. Her hair fell from her bun framing her face like a painting, or so it was how he saw it.

In a swift action, she was sprawled in his lap, his head once more on her neck. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think about how fast and how easy it had been for him to grow addicted to that sweet girl. To the smell that lit a fire within him.

She felt to him as a gift the universe was giving him after so much loss, even if it meant a liability for the powerful undefeatable Thor.

"Did you like it?"

"Uh?" Lids were heavy when Feisty replied, the tips of her fingers swirling around the prominent vein on his bicep.

"The clothes." Thor mumbles. "I bought them for you and had them delivered."

"Oh." A sudden warmness fills her up once she realises he had taken time to worry about that. To think about her. "Yes, I like them. You shouldn't have though."

"Nonsense." Something in his laugh gets her eyes open again. "Has Natasha treated you well?"

"Yes." A spark of excitement washes through her. "She taught me a lot today."

"Did she?"

Feisty nods, grinning genuinely at him, the fond memories of the afternoon flowing behind her eyes, shared laughs and a new intimacy that she never knew she could experience with someone else. More than helping her build fighting skills, Natasha was teaching her what it meant to be somebody’s friend.

They stay sit for a little while, neither willing to break from the torpor their scents lulled them into. Thor's fingers sneaking into her hair, toying with the strands in a soft manner that got her sleepy quicker than it should have, her eyes hefty.

"Nat really tired you out, didn't she, little wolf?"

"Hmmm, yes." She slurs, clinging to his clothes like a baby. "It was nice."

"I'm glad it was."

"She said-" By now, Feisty's half asleep. The heat coming from his body cuddling her like a warm blanket. "-Said I shouldn't get involved with you. You're trouble and you'll break my heart."

Those words sting him, the mere thought of causing pain to her being unbearable.  He could hear the wolf inside howling for him to squeeze her further into his embrace, to protect her from any harm. She was his Omega to look after and that was what he was going to do. At all costs.

A soft tug on his collar forces him to gaze down, his insides spiralling from how defenceless that little wolf looked, index finger tracing careless patterns on the skin of his shoulder.

“Will you?” She asks then, one eye open.

“I would never hurt you, little wolf.” Thor’s large hand nestles her face, urging their glares to bore on one another. “Never.”

Nodding slowly, she stares at him a little longer, then hides her face on his neck again, breathing deeply, his exhilarating smell sending her into a gratifying haze. She didn’t know if it was a dream or not, but not a single cell in her body wanted to wake up if it was. Thor felt like home all over again, Natasha’s words were long forgotten now.

Tenderly clutching her into his chest, he got back on his feet, the woman’s legs quick to clasp around his waistline, snuggling her nose further into the crook of his neck, moaning to the strength it got to her. One day she hoped to understand how was it possible that it was so good, not today though. Today she just wanted the thrill it gave her.

When he tried putting her down to the bed, she groaned, tightening her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to lie with her. Sure, she wasn’t as strong as him, she would never be, considering he was a supreme, nonetheless, Feisty wanted to stay skin close to him still. He couldn’t leave her. Not when she felt so good.

“You need to sleep, little wolf,” Thor mumbles, kissing her forehead. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No.”

“Little wolf…”

“Stay.” There’s demand beneath her voice. “Sleep here with me.”

His nostrils flare as the blue unexpectedly disappear, black pupils back, taking control. She’s not sleepy anymore, all her senses are very much aware to the greedy vibe he’s letting off, the alpha stench that gets her core to itch, empty and craving. For him.  

“Can’t do that.” Feisty squirms, clasping her legs together as she reaches for his arm, hand ridiculously small when in comparison to the size of his bicep. “You need space, need to be alone.”

“That’s not what I need.” Her inhibitors were nearing a tenuous line, actions filled with lust and driven by instinct. “Stay.”

“You’re not-”

“I’m not asking you to mount me, Thor.” The sentence erupts a stir within his trousers,  a picture taking shape in his brain. “I couldn’t sleep well yesterday, so stay with me. Your smell calms me.”

Low blow, he thinks.

“I can leave anytime you ask me.” It slips smoothly, eyes switching back to glorious blue. She smiles, standing up, and palms softly the stiff abdomen, slipping underneath to find the strong muscles tensing up under. “What are you doing?”

“I like touching you.”

Thor snickers, his own hands finding hers, bringing them both to his face, cheek pressing the mellow skin, scraping it with his beard. Lastly, he kissed her knuckles, exchanging a confident gaze. Anyone close enough could catch the intimacy in the air, regardless of them not ever having had one kiss.

Not necessary. At least not yet.

“You’re always honest like that?”

“No.” Her nose flies to his chest, opening her mouth to fully taste him.  “With you, I feel I can though. I am not embarrassed by you.”

“Is that good or bad?”

It’s Feisty’s turn to snicker, looking up at him.

“It’s good, Thor. Means I trust you.”

"How can you?"

A sigh escapes whilst she is again conflicted by the rush of emotions she's feeling. It's a question she lacks an answer, so she shrugs, clutching to him like a puppy, such a warm, tender hug she felt like she would melt inside it.

Thor kisses the top of her head, pushing her to lie down again, she grunts when he pulls away to undress, kicking off his black leather boots and tossing away the shirt. He was hesitant, however, on taking off his pants, catching her glare locked on him, eyes hungry.  

"You can't look at me like that, little wolf."

"How am I looking at you?" He can taste the innocence in her words.

"You're looking at me-" A sudden pause as Thor finally disposes of his jeans, joining her in the bed. She curls herself on him, legs mingling together while her head rests on his wide chest. "-Dammit. You're looking at me like you need me."

The air pushes out of her in a gasp, propping herself up in his chest, gazing at him curiously. His blond hair was loose, scattered across the pillow, eyes like a peaceful sea. He seemed like he was at home too, and that thought made her heart shake, pumping faster.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you, little wolf," Thor says mindlessly, tugging her hair, caressing in a way that made the tips of her toes tingle. "Come, sleep."

There's a brief silent moment after he pulls her to lie down, cradling her.

"Thor?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks." She speaks sweetly, pressing her lips to the side of his body. "This much more than I could've ever wished for."

Feisty feels a shift under her as he chuckles, still in awe with that beautiful creature lying with him. It was by far the most precious who had ever taken that place. Who had ever touched him like that.

It scared him. And her. Both so frightened of what that could mean. Yet, none of them had the strength to prevent it, to push it off. It was inevitable.

tags!

marvel: @frenfics

thor: @lancsnerd @odinson-barnes

untouched: @slutlanna976 @rahma29417 (for some reason the tag won’t work) @truthdaze @innerpaperexpertcloud