#you're just a *clearance level* now

[bittersweetbonbon]

i love it when o5s are just. literal shadow creatures. not even identifiable as human anymore. they're a different species entirely. just a number and silhouette. that's all they need to be.

[goldenwilliamson]

player of the match | leah williamson

a/n: let's pretend leah isn't out with injury shall we x

pairing: leah williamson x reader

summary: reader and leah both play for arsenal. reader gets potm and a little post-match interview with alex scott fuels the rumours about her and leah's relationship

word count: 987

As the ref blew the final whistle the girls in red embraced each other, overjoyed to get a win against a tough opponent that would move them up the table.

You were Arsenal's newest addition in defence, and at the end of the game after working your ass off for the full 90 minutes, you were awarded player of the match. All your team mates were happy to see this, and proud to have you at the club. None are more excited than Leah Williamson, who you had gotten to know very well since arriving at the Arsenal.

You already knew Leah from times you'd played against England and against Arsenal, and you'd always admired her. Not only is she a centre back, like yourself, and a good one at that. But she has truly got a heart of gold.

You two had been developing a tight friendship since your arrival a few months ago, and one night Leah confidently took your friendship to the next level.

"You're driving me crazy," she murmured in your ear one night when some of the girls had gotten together for drinks.

"Is that right?," you smiled at her, taking in the passionate look in her eyes.

"It is. I really want to kiss you," Leah said, quickly following up with, "Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

"Do it," you urged her, letting your arms settle around her shoulders as her hands found your waist.

She kissed you, and the rest is history. Obviously the girls on the team were aware of your relationship, and your families, but you two decided to keep it out of the public eye. After being in a public relationship in the past, you thought it might be nice to keep this part of your life private for a change. With Leah, things just felt so special, so different, and you wanted to hold onto it as tight as possible, without anyone else putting in their two cents about your relationship.

After the match you had to do your post-match interview with Alex Scott for the BBC. You greeted Alex warmly, obviously having met through Leah on multiple occasions already, where you two got along like a house on fire.

Now Alex beams at you as your interview begins, “I'm joined here with player of the match, Y/N Y/L/N. Now it’s only your fifth game for Arsenal, but you played the full 90 on fire, making some unreal clearances to keep that sheet clean. How are you feeling about the game you’ve just played?”

“Obviously I’m really proud to earn my place in this team. I’m a Gooner through and through, so it’s an honour to be able to play for the club and help the team out, especially when we really needed the points.”

As you finish speaking a pair of strong arms snake around your hips and someone plants a kiss on your cheek from behind you. 

“Safe hands!” The now familiar English accent confirms your suspicions. Leah pats your shoulders with both hands and gives them a little squeeze before leaving as quickly as she appeared, leaving you and Alex to laugh, exchanging some knowing looks.

“Obviously strong chemistry there between you and Leah Williamson. As seen tonight you’ve slotted right in to a lovely centre back duo with her, was this pairing as seamless as it appears?”

You look at Alex with a glimmer in your eyes, both aware that you’re dancing around the fact that you and Leah are together. 

“It’s felt pretty natural for me. You know Leah, she’s very warm and welcoming, but she’s also got that fiery drive to win which has definitely made me want to do my best stepping into that centre back role alongside her.”

“We’ll it’s safe to say you’ve definitely met the Williamson standards after assisting in the win tonight. And as a fan, we're all very happy to have you playing for the club. Congratulations Y/N.”

“Cheers, Alex.” You gently squeeze Alex’s shoulder before you walk off, smiling at her playful remark about meeting Leah’s standards. Just a couple of nights ago Alex had told you it seems to her that Leah has really fallen for you, and she doesn’t fall for people easily with her high standards.

“You tick all her boxes,” Alex had assured you.

“She ticks all mine," you'd responded instantly.

As you walked away from the cameras you saw Leah and you came up next to her, giving her a playful push on the shoulder.

"Subtle display of affection there Lee," you said.

She pulled you into to her side, still waving out the to fans, prompting you to do the same while you threw your arm around her shoulders.

"I couldn't help myself," she says playfully into your ear, making you smile with ease.

"Alex slipped in some subtle comments about our seamless chemistry on the pitch too," you said.

"Cheeky girl, that one," Leah shakes her head.

"It's true but, I feel so comfortable playing on the pitch with you," you say honestly.

"So do I. Honestly, you coming here has been the best thing that could've happened. For me, and for the team," Leah says.

"Leah," you sigh, feeling your cheeks warming at her compliment.

"I'm serious, you're amazing darling, never seen a player quite like you," she smooths your hair down and plants a kiss to your forehead.

You two start to make your way off the pitch together, arms still wrapped around each other, trying to ignore the fact that many young fans are recording every interaction between the two of you.

"Can't wait to see this on tiktok tonight," you joke to Leah.

The two of you laid in bed one night looking through the countless videos and edits of the two of you, giggling to no end.

"Yeah we're not very discreet are we?" Leah laughs.

"No. But that's alright, gives them something to talk about."

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

⚔ ARES: God of War and Violence 🐗

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it’s either during or after a victorious battle. If it’s during a battle, like Capture the Flag, it’s when your blood is pumping and you’re on adrenaline high. You could be losing or winning, but you hit that point of state where you’re just so in the zone before you realize you’re covered in red. You decimate the other team, striking fear in their hearts as they see you running over their teammates, your weapon swinging like it’s your own limb. Everyone looks above your head as they see the floating red boar above your head and then you hear a roar of cheer from your now half–siblings. They let out whoops, howls, and cheers, slapping you on the back and some wrestling you if you’re still battle high, before they lift you up and carry you around. 

When you’re shown the cabin, you’re immediately nerved by the boar head posted above the door, its eyes following you…but you can’t focus on that because you’re immediately told and made to remember where the live mines are around the entrance. They didn’t clarify if they were actual mines or alternative mines…they said it was classified information and you didn’t have the clearance level yet. Either which you didn’t want to find out the hard way.

If the Hephaestus cabin is the forge, you bet you can imagine that the Ares cabin is their armoury. It's not on the scale as theirs, but its pretty close. Weapons galore. It's a weapon maniacs dream. You have equipment here to upkeep and maintain weapons and if you pick out a weapon that you're not sure how to maintain? You have siblings jumping up the chance to show you. 

You wanna try and wield different weapons? Go on ahead! Every Ares’ member has their own mini armoury and collection of weapons. 

Y'know how siblings like to push each other and get into play fights? Yeah, the Ares cabin is like that constantly. It goes from rough housing to actual sparring. If you're not a big fan of participating in it, you're going to learn how to redirect people's movements. Don't worry about it getting the heat off you, as long its not entirely personal, you have another Ares’ sibling ready to switch with you. 

You also begin to take on bets because with the amount of rough-housing and sparring, it's just too good of an opportunity. The currency ranges from actual dollars, drachmas, candy bars, or what have you. All currency is accepted.  

People often like talking with their fists, but it's mostly getting rid of the pent up emotions when you guys do some talk to talk. Got to be fair you know.

If you're not particularly looking for a fight, don't worry about it. While it is true, you're a war god child, you're also good at de-escalating. After all, there's a reason in the book, "The Art of War", Sun Tzu says "The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting".

Blood was roaring in your ears with eyes red as you gripped your weapon high. Your veins were pumping with adrenaline, almost making you shake but you never felt more alive. You had just won and you thrust up your weapon high in the air, and let out a yell. Immediately, a cacophony of cheers and yells joined you, sending another spike of adrenaline and you faintly saw the claim of Ares above your head. People swarmed you and in the zone, you attacked them which they gleefully returned back the favour. Then they lifted you up in the air, cheering that about another child of Ares as you were carried back to the Ares cabin where your siblings plopped you in front of it, and Clarisse at the head. 

She grinned at you, her figure imposing but you kept your chin high. 

“Not bad, but expected as a child of Ares. Don’t let it get to your head because there’s plenty coming” she said. 

“Bring it on” you fired back with a grin as she gave a smirk. 

“I’m Clarisse Rue, cabin leader of Cabin 5. Welcome to the Ares cabin.” 

[catcze]

Boxer wriothesley making out with you after a fight

16+ !! Suggestive content !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Wriothesley x GN! reader

「 ### : 」 Fluff, some suggestive content & mentions of sex but nothing actually 18+. Modern au !!

「 CWS : 」 Written pre release so potentially ooc !! Light mentions of injuries. making out 🥴. established relationship. Hand holding & hair pulling. Wriothesley lifts you up at one point and is so down bad. Wriothesley calls the reader sweetheart and baby. Reader wears perfume. Author knows jack shit about boxing and has never watched a boxing match so please excuse any and all inaccuracies

I got this ask and blacked out i saw red i was caught in a whole TRANCE do not perceive me i lost my sanity as i wrote this because the feelings that overcame me at the thought of shirtless, post-fight Wriothesley who shines w/ sweat and is full of post-match adrenaline was too much for my mental capacity to bear

The route to Wriothesley's locker room is one that you can navigate with your eyes closed— a confidence born from familiarity. Every time after a match, whether he wins or he loses, you always find your way from your front row seat to the door you stand before now. The first few times, he had instructed his managers to come pluck you up from your front row seat and escort you, but now the staff just bring you as far as the backstage security clearance, leaving you to find your own way.

You knock on the hard door twice, giving it a moment, then enter—

— and you're immediately swept up into Wriothesley's arms, a startled yelp escaping you as you clutch his shoulders on instinct.

"Hey, sweetheart," Wriothesley murmurs, pressing his nose to your neck while he holds you aloft, your legs tightly around his bare torso. He breathes your perfume in once, twice, like he can't get enough of it. "You enjoy the show?"

"Wriothesley!" you gasp, trying to tug free of his hold, gripping his hair and trying to pull him off of you to no avail. He stubbornly melts even more against you, pushing your back further against the door you came in through. "Put me down! You should be resting right now, not-"

"Not enjoying the fruit of my victory?" he teases against your neck, his tongue licking up the skin, making heat pool in your belly. Your shiver does not go unnoticed, and you can feel the quirk of his lips where they're pressed up against your neck. "'m fine, baby. Already got checked out and everything. Just need to go home and get some ice, that's all," he reassures you, pressing kisses to your neck and the side of your face, his hands squeezing your thighs appreciatively as he keeps you pinned up against the door.

You relax against him then, glad that he's mostly fine. The match had been over quick, anyways— it hadn't dragged out long enough for him to get hurt too badly. He had definitely walked away in much better shape than his opponent, at least.

The hand in his hair stops trying to tug him away, instead pulling him closer. You scratch his scalp and untangle little knots in his hair while he takes his fill of lathering attention onto your skin, making him purr delightedly in between leaving marks and bites wherever his mouth can reach.

When he adjusts his hold on you to free one hand (there's a zing in your veins when he effortlessly holds you up with ease) so it can play with the edge of your shirt, you reach down to pull it away, weaving your fingers together instead.

"We can't fuck in your locker room," you tell him resolutely, a frown on your face. "You have an interview when you go out and your managers will have your head and mine if you go on air looking like you just smashed."

He sighs but acquesces, pulling away from your neck to level his face just a few inches from yours. "Just a kiss, then. That okay?"

You nod and he's on you in an instant. With the short time you both have, Wriothesley hardly dawdles as his tongue traces along the seam of your mouth, instantly dipping in when you grant him entrance. There's a sigh from you and a low groan from him when his tongue meets your own, and he squeezes your hand that's still connected to his.

Wriothesley bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp and pull him harder against you by his hair. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed against yours, the sweat on him making him stick to you. Fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, his thumb drawing shapes you can't make out in your kiss-fueled haze.

His tongue licks the inside of your mouth, sighs of bliss transferring from his mouth into yours. "You're so good to me, baby," Wriothesley mumbles against your lips, eyes half lidded and something hungering behind them.

You can't even bring it in yourself to speak, tugging him closer once again because in that moment he is focusing too much on speaking and not enough on kissing you. He chuckles at your desperation, but gives in to you as he always does, letting himself be dragged further into your embrace.

Fuck it, the words are on the tip of your tongue. Fuck the interview. Put your hands under my shirt kiss me somewhere else—

Knock knock.

Like a gunshot, your eyes fly open at the interruption and you hand jolts, accidentally pulling on his hair too hard and making him hiss when he detaches from you. "Sorry, sorry," you murmur to him, pressing a fleeting peck to his lips. Now, it is your turn to bury your nose into his neck.

"You good in there?" The voice of his manager comes floating through the door, muffled. "The interviewer's been waiting a while by now, you know."

"Right, right. Be out in a bit." He hopes his manager doesn't realize that his voice is far too close to the door than it normally should be.

Wriothesley has to stifle a dissatisfied sound, maneuvering you off the door and gently placing you down on the bench in the room, mindful of the way your legs shake. A gentle kiss is placed to the crown of your head, then to the back of the hand he holds before he lets go.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says in a low rumble, voice deepened from the makeout. His lips are swollen from all the kissing— you hope people attribute it to his fight instead of a post-fight makeout. "Sit tight here, I'll come back for you when I'm done."

Then that hunger reappears in his eyes and his smile gets the slightest bit sharper. "We'll go home and continue where we left off. I promise."

[innorogers]

Lucid

Steve Rogers x Dark Past Reader (You)

Summary: Steve finds out about your past. You're nothing as he thought you were. You are better.

Warning: Steve struggling / Past revelations / You don't have to read this: Chapter 1 - Insomnia, but it would enhance the experience if you did.

What do you do the night you meet the love of your life? You spend it with to him—talking, hugging, kissing, teetering on the edge of going further... but it doesn’t matter, because one day, you won’t recall the specifics. Years from now, future you will think back to this night and remember only the magic you felt, the moments your heart skipped a beat, and the wonder of it all.

In the present, as the first rays of sunlight rise from the east and touch your face, you can barely keep your eyes open, almost drifting off against Steve’s shoulder. Once he finds out you’ve just come off a 13-hour shift, he insists on walking you to your dorm. And though it seems to take every ounce of his willpower, he refuses your unspoken invitation to stay. Ever the gentleman.

After a shift that handed you five hours of overtime, you managed to get immediate compensation—and even figured out how to maximize your sleep: you'll shower later.

So, after Steve kisses you goodbye for the sixth time, you finally close the door and collapse into your pillow. Though, to be honest, you’d rather be falling asleep on his chest.

Captain America, on the other hand, was more awake than ever. The last time he felt this energized was when they thawed him from his popsicle state. It was like walking in sunlight, and he half-expected some cheesy background music to play as he moved through the halls.

But, as always, fate was waiting in the corner to throw a punch and kick his perfectly peach shaped ass.

You were still on his mind when he stepped into the Level 0 – Avengers Only common room. You hadn’t left his thoughts since he said goodbye to you... thirty minutes ago.

To his surprise, Natasha was already there – she was never up before 11 – typing something into a computer - she was also never on top of her paperwork -.

“Oh wow, this is rare.” Steve was in a mood—no, actually, "mood" wasn’t the right word. He was still wonderstruck, wrapped up in his own bubble of happiness because of meeting you. 

“Haha, hilarious,” Natasha deadpanned without even glancing up. “Go ahead and laugh now, Rogers. One day, that ‘I’m from the 40s, I don’t know this shit’ lame excuse is not gonna to fly anymore, and you’ll actually have to do some of this.”

“Well... by then, hopefully our genius philanthropist will have invented something to take this torture off our hands,” Steve replied, handing her a cup of coffee.

Now he had her attention.

“Someone’s in a good mood…” She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Alright, spill.”

“Oh no, not a chance,” Steve shook his head, grinning. “Not happening.”

But after a pause, he added, “Hey, we have full access to everyone’s records here, right?”

“Yeah, Level 0 clearance,” Natasha replied, still focused on her typing. “You’ve got everything on your phone. Why?”

Steve glanced at your name in his phone and tried to sound casual. “What do you know about an engineer?” He wasn’t entirely sure if that was your title—you had mentioned it, but he had only been paying attention to the important stuff (like your favorite ice cream, song, hobbies, and what you wanted to do this Saturday night…).

“You’ll need to be more specific. I need an ID or at least a last name.”

“Illithya Lancaster,” he said softly, almost smiling as your name left his lips.

“Oh yeah,” Natasha responded immediately, “the one that goes by ‘Twelve,’ right?”

That got Steve’s full attention. He sat up straight, frowning. “‘Twelve’? Is that a nickname?”

“Code Name 12. Subject ID HE0012.” Natasha continued typing as though she were battling something. “You know what that means.”

“No.” Steve’s voice turned rigid. “I don’t.”

The typing finally stopped, and Natasha swiveled around in her chair to face him. “H for Hydra, E for experiment, number 12. She was one of Hydra’s experiments, Steve.”

That was a bucket of ice water he hadn’t expected. Right to the spine. Steve took a few seconds to find his voice.

“What?”

“There.” Natasha handed him an iPad with all the information: “See, here she is. Um… mission rescue R804, Siberia… Sokovia… yeah, she’s on Hydra's top confidential list, one of the few we’ve got. Stark moved mountains to save her from rotting in a federal prison for eternity.” She spoke quickly as she read, her voice unusually soft, full of compassion.

Steve paused for a moment, trying to recall if you’d mentioned anything about a nickname last night, but he didn’t think you had.

He could barely think. His voice, distant and faint, whispered: “‘Twelve’? What… happened to the other eleven?”

Swiping the iPad, Natasha didn’t even look up, just shrugged: “What do you think?” She didn’t notice Steve’s face go pale instantly. 

“Illithya was the only survivor, barely. Used and discarded as anything Hydra could imagine… like something disposable.” 

She sighed. “I’ve seen awful things, but this is one of the files I try to forget.”

Steve’s mind was in turmoil. He couldn’t think, and the pain in his chest seemed to crush every fiber of his being.

He couldn’t believe it. You, his treasured little secret, his enchanted, magical midsummer night, this beautiful, pure soulmate he’d fallen with—the one who told him a fairy would bring him all the stars—had been used, abused, treated like a guinea pig, nothing more than a lab rat?

He was beginning to understand the emotions rising within every cell of his body: a mix of uncontrollable anger, sadness, and fear.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, his voice wavered slightly: “...How… how long was she experimented on?”

Natasha set the file aside and looked him straight in the eye. There was empathy there. She knew Steve was shaken, so she softened her voice as much as she could, though her words remained honest.

“‘Till we got her? A lifetime. She was born and raised in captivity. Her entire existence was based on an experiment.”

Steve closed his eyes. It was more than he could bear. The pain he felt intensified with every word Nat spoke. 

He clenched his fists, veins bulging with rage. How could they. 

“How did you rescue her?” He found himself asking in a calm voice, as if inquiring about any other case.

“We didn’t. She escaped, and we found her. After you and Tony split in Siberia.” Nat pulled up the file again on the tablet and handed it to him, but Steve didn’t look. He wasn’t ready.

“So, until she got away…” Steve heard his voice, sounding unnervingly emotionless, and he hated it. “Was she under Hydra’s control her entire life?”

Black Widow didn’t respond at first. She nodded, just barely, while watching him. She was using the spy stare, reading everything beneath the surface, interpreting every unspoken word, every pause, every silence was a puzzle piece for her to figure out the entire picture.

“A lifetime under Hydra…” Steve whispered.

And he felt awful for saying it.

But there it was, a poisoned seed growing in the shadows of his mind. Steve wanted to bury it deep, but he couldn’t stop. 

The doubt crept in, spreading like a toxin—the thought that everything you’d been through had changed you.

How could you ever purge Hydra’s venom from your veins? Was it still there, lurking in every dormant cell, slowly expanding like a plague, consuming all the good, the magic, the purity in you? Corrupting you?

“Stop,” Natasha suddenly said.

She gave him a look Steve recognized—she was about to ask something that would make him think, really think.

After a deep breath, she spoke: “If you’re asking about her, it’s because you’ve met her, right? So, what do you think? Did she seem like a…villain? Or was she different? Special, maybe?”

Steve leaned back into the chair at her words, the memory of you filling his mind again, your innocence, your weird yet adorable responses, your naivety, your smile…You.

The touch of your hand, the softness of your voice, the pureness of your soul. The way you’d clung to him, spoke to him, trusted him, kissed him. He exhaled slowly, a ghost smile on his face. 

“No. I never thought of her as a villain. Or as any…negative. She was different, more than different. She was…she is…incredible…she’s wonderful…she’s…” Perfect.

Natasha remained in silence. Staring at him. Then she leaned up, her words like splashed ripples on the spring's surface. “Why do you trust Barnes, Steve?”

Her tone was calm and serene, yet it made Steve clench his fists. The question was unexpected, but not unanticipated—he knew she’d ask; she always pushed when she had that look.

“He was, or is, more Hydra than anyone we’ve ever rescued from those hellholes, yet you risked everything to save him.”

“That’s different. I know Bucky, he’s all I have left of my past. And he was brainwashed.” You weren’t. You acted, and you act by choice… don’t you? Steve panicked at the thought. Everything you did, you did with your heart… right? Everything that happened last night, was true…Right?

“So if she wasn’t brainwashed, she’s guilty?” A slight ironic smile tugged at Nat’s lips. “Even though she never asked to be born into a Hydra experiment, or to live in captivity. Is she at fault, Steve? For not trying hard enough to escape?”

Steve froze at her words, realizing what she was getting at. You weren’t brainwashed, no, much worse, you’d grown up knowing nothing of life outside Hydra. You weren’t just a victim. No. He thought of you. You were a survivor. A fighter.

“That sounded a bit protective.” Steve looked at his fellow Avenger, studying her expression. “Was it just a rescue mission, Nat? You don’t usually…attach to people.”

Letting out a laugh, Natasha returned to her usual mysterious, lazy smile. “I’ll let you find out for yourself.” 

She hesitated but finally spoke under Steve’s gaze: “She’s… different, Steve.”

A slight, warm smile crossed Black Widow’s face. 

“She’s kind…and good. I don’t know how to explain it, but she’s innocent. Her heart… it’s pure.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Nat’s words. He could hear the awe in her voice, and it made him think of you: The way you’d looked at him, the sparkle in your eyes. Tiny butterflies fluttered in his stomach as he remembered the way you’d laughed and how they took flight when he kissed you.

Without even realizing it, his voice became as tender as it could be: “Yes. She is all those things.”

“Like I said.” Natasha leaned back in her chair, her fingers returning to the keyboard. “I’ll let you find out for yourself.”

LAB 278—it had taken some time to find.

Steve silently thanked Jarvis for lighting the way as he stepped into your lab—your private, secluded lab, hidden almost a 20-minute walk from the central facilities. Steve hadn’t even known this place existed on campus.

He pushed open the door and saw you through the thick glass. He couldn’t help but marvel as he took in the entire space. Your lab looked like a greenhouse, with plants everywhere—on the desk, under the tables, on the floor, shelves, and windows. Long curtains of leaves hung down from the ceiling like rain falling through broken glass. 

Large screens dominated the room, and then Steve’s eyes widened at what he saw next. 

An armory. Their. Armory. 

A bow being analyzed by lasers, prototypes of metal gauntlets, shattered helmets, and torn suits.

And then, he saw you.

You were cleaning his shield.

Everything fell into silence when his gaze rested on you. The whole place became a quiet green ocean, so still that Steve could almost hear the plants breathing. And his own heartbeat. That stopped when you lifted the shield and gently kissed it.

“Do a good job,” he heard you whisper to it. “Protect him. Keep him safe.”

Steve snapped out of it as those words echoed in his mind. He had a hundred questions, but they vanished in that instant. He wasn’t even thinking—he was reacting—as he stepped forward and opened the door.

The look on your face when you heard the noise and turned around was indescribable. All the tension in your expression softened, and the light in your eyes brightened. 

Steve wondered, how he’d been so blind, so stupid, to believe some reports instead of trusting…you.

“Oh. Hi…” You smiled, joy sparkling in every corner of the room.

God, that smile. The happiness in your eyes at seeing him weakened his knees. He spoke, his voice softer than he’d expected. 

“Hey...”

You almost run to him under instinc. Wanting to move closer, to take his hands, but…you weren’t sure. Was it too much? Too fast? What are you (or this) supposed to be? Are you even dating? Will he hate it? So, you blushed and stood still. “I…I um… I’m so glad you’re here.”

Steve noticed the way you flinched, the way you wanted to reach out but held yourself back. It made him feel…sad, like something was cracking in his chest. He wanted to reach out and take your hand. But he didn’t—not yet. 

Instead, he stepped closer, his voice gentle as he smiled. “…And I’m very glad to be here.”

“Oh.” You weren’t sure if it was the lack of sleep or if you were just lost in his eyes, but your mind was racing, and you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out something dumb, like really dumb.

“I missed you.”

Oh, what the hell. You wanted to bite your tongue. Especially when you saw Steve freeze. Okay, that was stupid as fuck, you thought, looking down, unsure of what to say next.

“I’ll take it back, I’m sorry, that was stu—” But before you could finish, you were pulled into a tight embrace.

Steve pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around you in a tight, protective hold. As if he wanted you to melt within him.

He realized how absurd he had been for holding this back, how deeply he craved you. Like a primal longing, like a dying plant thirsting for a drop of dew, or desperate for air.

“Please…don’t be.” He whispered, pressing your head to his shoulder, inhaling the scent of your hair, his eyes closed as he sighed. “I missed you too.”

“Oh.” You awkwardly ran your hands along his back, fumbling at first, before simply giving in and hugging him tighter. You caressed his neck until he rested his forehead against yours, exhaling deeply.

And you smiled. 

“So…you did find out, huh?”

He stood silently, with his chin in your shoulder. And after a while he said in a bitter tone: “How’d you know?”

“‘Cause you look exactly like Tony and Natasha did when they found out. And… because you’re in my lab. I mean, I don’t think this place is a hot spot, huh?” You laughed and broke the hug slightly, but he tightened his grip on your waist, unwilling to let you pull away. 

You caressed his face, inhaling the warmth of his breath, and looked into his eyes. 

"Steve, what happened to me isn’t a burden for you to carry, you know that, right?”

Steve froze. 

Isn’t it? 

Wasn’t it because he hadn’t destroyed Hydra when he had the chance?

Because they didn’t find out sooner?

Because… he wasn’t there?

You struggled to read people, especially someone you cared about, so when you saw the pale, stiff look on his face, you paralyzed.

Was that why he came? To tell you it was over? Well…to be honest, you wouldn’t blame him. After all… you were you, and he was… Steve Rogers. And you were…Hydra’s Frankenstein.

That thought must have shown on your face, because Steve noticed the change in your expression—fear and shame, like you were some kind of Quasimodo who had his mask ripped off.

The mere thought made Steve’s blood boil—the idea that he might reject you because of your past, as if you were to blame for things you couldn’t control. As you were…sinful and…bad.

He suddenly cupped your face and spoke firmly, the words echoing from his heart, the same words he should have said the moment Natasha told him the truth.

“Hey, hey… look at me. Look at me.” He stared straight into your eyes. "Don’t doubt me. Don’t doubt… us.” His voice was filled with protectiveness and anger. “I’m here, and I…” I’m falling for you.

“Do you regret it?” Your voice trembled. “Last night… do you regret… meeting me?”

“No.” His voice was steady and resilient, unwavering and unshakable: “Not in a million lifetimes.”

You held your breath for a moment, trying not to cry. Then spoke as you were telling a secret. 

“I always wondered…What would I have been like if I were… normal? If I had normal parents—a father working in a bank, a mom as a teacher. I’d go to school, go to prom, fall in love… have friends… but…” 

You pressed your fingers into his hand and smiled softly.

“… I wouldn’t change anything about my past, if that was the road I had to take, that leaded me…to finally meet you.”

Steve felt like he could’ve started crying at any moment. 

Your past had left a crack in his heart, something he could never fix, something that would always hurt. And yet, you said it was all worth it? All the suffering, all the pain… just to meet him? How could he… how could he deserve you? He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe.

“God…” he murmured, his voice filled with pain. “How can you say that… how can you still be so…” 

Kind. Good. Pure.

Natasha was damn right. You were everything she said, and more.

“Hmmm… Maybe…” You thought out loud. "Maybe I always knew I’d meet you someday, and I had to be good enough… to be… worthy.”

Steve exhaled, trying to calm the storm in his heart and mind. 

The weight of your words hit him hard. He paused for a moment before he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around you tightly, as if that could protect you from all the misfortune or pain that might come in the years ahead.

“Damn it…”

His voice broke as he whispered.

“I can’t believe I found you…”

“Well then,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. 

“Thank you for finding me.”

Time stilled for a moment, but before he could think, Steve’s body had already reacted, he pinned you against the workbench as his hand weaved through your hair, and his lips pressed yours in a deep kiss. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, he needed you, wanted you, to hold you as close as possible, without letting you go ever again.

All the composure he had been trying to maintain disappeared the moment he felt you. 

Your lips, your tongue, your scent… Any sense of reason was hanging by a thread. 

He lifted you onto the desk, sending pens and books scattering to the floor, but he didn’t give a damn. Not when your legs wrapped around his hips and you moaned his name as his hand tightened around your waist.

“Jesus…”

The way your voice sounded, the way you were looking at him, the way you were sitting with your legs around him, everything was driving him desperately crazy, struggling to keep control to not to tear your clothes off and make you his right there. 

He broke the kiss before doing something reckless, but his body was tense, and his breathing panting. 

“You’re driving me crazy…” He breathes heavily, leaving a deep kiss in your forehead.

“What?” Your mind was still spinning from his kiss, and you replied without thinking: “Well yeah, welcome to the club.” 

Steve left out a laugh, All the intense revelations from earlier had nearly made him forget just how incredible your comebacks were. 

He looks down and kisses you again, this time with more tenderness than passion, and he speaks as he continues. 

“I’ve been thinking about this since I left you this morning…”

“Can you…” You could barely form a word without moaning: “Can you think…of taking this further?”

“…” 

That made him stopped. 

The suggestion sent a shiver down his spine. Oh you and your amazing comebacks. His mind suddenly flashed, imagining all the things he’d wanted to do to you, maybe in his room, in the bed, with you under him, moaning his name as you just did, only louder and louder…

Steve quickly shook the thought from his mind, trying to force himself back to reality. 

“God… please don’t tempt me.” He could feel his body reacting to his own imagination, so he pressed his forehead against yours, clenching his fists, trying to regain some control.

“I…” You wanted to say, "I don’t mind," or even, 'I don’t give a damn if you take me right now...You know what, there’s actually a bed at the back of this lab.' But then his phone rang.

“What the hell…” He glanced at the caller ID and groaned, “For gods sake, what timing…” One hand reached for the phone while the other held you firmly. “I’m sorry, babe, give me a sec.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of him calling you that for the first time, but before you could process it, Tony Stark’s voice echoed through the empty lab.

“I don’t know what you are doing there, Cap…And trust me, I don’t wanna know…but Jarvis just sent me a reminder, to remind you, that there are cameras everywhere in the working campus. Everywhere.” 

You could tell there was a humorous tone in Iron man’s voice.

“Even in remotely located labs for top secret employees.”

End but TBC-

Continue to:

3: Reverie |

4: Nightmare |

5: Awakening |

6: Dusk |

7: Hypnagogia |

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Alright, thanks for reading up to here. Hope you enjoyed it!! <3

So when I started writing Part 1, I was like, 'Oh, let's just write cute one-shots and short stuff.' And here I am with a complex OC and a struggling Steve. I'm so sorry for that :3 I just can't help myself!

Part 3 comes with 'the one night I made you mine and made you beg' thing I was hoping I'd finally get to. I promise! (Still have no idea how I'm writing that through my working shifts, tho.)

Okay, have a good one <3 Lmk if you liked it ? Report and everything is highly appreciated <3 :D

Love.,

Moon.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 14

Masterlist

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst by the buckets.

'We should talk.' 

'I'd rather not.' 

It's been two days.

Two days since you've been in his presence, avoiding every mention and sight of him, making yourself as scarce as possible.

Two days since you kissed him.

Your body heats up at the memory. The way he grabbed you, held you close, returned your feverish kisses with some of his own.

You look down at your phone, swallowing when you see the read receipts light up on the message you just sent.

In true Billy fashion, he doesn't respond.

What a fucking pain in the ass, you think angrily. 

You shake your head, dropping your phone onto your desk and throwing yourself into your work.

This time, you're not worried about possible fallouts, he'd definitely kissed you back, right?

Fuck, what a kiss. Your toes curled at the memory, a spot deep inside you aching, emphasizing the emptiness inside of you.

It was too much, the knowledge of what his mouth tasted like, the feel of his passionate hands on your body.

How could you ever hope to forget that it had happened? Did you even want to?

The answer was no.

You didn't want to forget it, and you didn't think it was a mistake either.

But it definitely wasn't a good thing.

Especially now, when your relationship had grown more strained in the last two days.

Friendship, what a dumb word.

If you weren't still upset with him, you'd probably go back up to his office and grip him by his stupid tie once more. 

You think about kissing him again, kicking one leg over his hip, grinding your body against his. Maybe you'd slip between his legs and pull his thick cock out of his pants-

You gasp, blinking back into reality, aware that you've been staring at the same sentence for minutes now.

You swallow, clicking the document away with a sigh.

You toss your head back in your chair, take a small stretch, try to remind yourself why you were mad at Billy.

Right, he was too indecisive. One moment he holds you close and tells you the most amazing things, the next he's avoiding you.

If you followed through on any of your fantasies with him, there was a high chance that he'd ghost you afterwards.

He probably just didn't like you as much as you'd hoped.

It was a painful thought. 

.

He was watching you.

Like the world's biggest creep.

Billy didn't completely understand why you were angry with him, but it was killing him inside. He needed to know, he needed to fix it.

It had been two days and he hadn't seen you in person since. You'd become very good at avoiding him. 

The absolute torment of seeing you everyday to not at all and all he had was the memory of a kiss that still made his lips tingle and his cock hard.

Now, the only way he could see you was on the little camera feed tucked into a corner wall of the office workspace area.

The camera quality was grainy, really just put in and not monitored unless there was an issue.

Billy had opened the feed five times in the last two days.

It was getting ridiculous, he didn't want another day to go by without trying to talk to you. You'd given him a rather clear message to leave you alone, but he couldn't, not after knowing how hurt you were, and definitely not after he found out how sweet your mouth tasted.

Like fucking strawberries.

He needed to make amends. 

.

You regret not going out tonight when Amy had offered. You could have been at a nice bar right now, sipping on a fancy margarita, laughing with your friends.

But you’d turned them down.

Why the fuck had you turned them down?

Friday night, and you’d just decided to take a bath and lie in bed.

It wasn't so bad, you reasoned, you only wished you were with them because you were in bed. If you'd been at the bar, you'd be sitting there, wishing you were here instead.

You smile, your therapist might praise you for becoming that level of self aware.

When there's a knock at your door, you raise your head in surprise.

Logically, it could only be one person. The one with the appropriate security clearance to make it up to your door without you being informed beforehand.

You take a deep breath, wondering what he would possibly want to say to you at a time like this.

You’re greeted with flowers. 

You see them before you see his face, pink and white tulips, wrapped in a rustic brown paper and some thread that’s looped tightly around your chest just comes loose at the sight of him.

What did you address him as now? William? Mister Russo? Billy? What did you call your boss that you’d kissed in a heated rush in his office during working hours?

“Hey.” Is all you end up saying.

He says your name in greeting, looking down at the bouquet in his arms for a second. 

“May I come in?”

May he? Was this a good idea?

You nod, pulling your door wider and sidestepping to let him in.

“Is there… something I can help you with?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.” He comments, avoiding your eyes.

Straight to the point.

“Yes.” You agree.

He finally turns to look at you, something unnameable in his eyes.

“Why?” He asks.

You give him a smile of apology, eyes drifting to the tulips still in his arms.

“Those for me?”

He nods, extending them out to you.

Your hands brush as you take them, turning away from him to find a place for them.

“They’re beautiful,” You state, “How did you know they were my favourite?”

"I didn’t.” He says, the awkwardness between you is as palpable as if it were a third person standing in the room.

He's silent as you take your time, searching for the appropriate vase to put them in. You press your nose to them and hum happily as the soft petals touch your cheek.

"Would you like something to drink?" You offer, turning to him.

He swallows.

"No. Why are you avoiding me?" He presses, going straight to the point.

You grin quietly into the flowers.

"I feel like you avoided me first." You hedge the question, looking eagerly at him for a response.

He looks a little irked, looking away from you and taking a deep breath, pretending to study your apartment.

"That's what this is about?"

"In part, you just kind of piss me off in general."

He raises his eyebrows in astonishment, still not meeting your eyes.

"Well this is confusing, considering that you kissed me." He challenges.

You wanted to rage at him, curse his stunning looks and captivating personality for pulling you into him, and this mindset of affection toward him.

Instead you suck in a breath.

"I feel like everytime we get close- as friends- you just… you pull as far away from me as humanly possible."

You let out a long sigh, leaving the bouquet of tulips in their spot on your kitchen counter, moving to plop onto your couch in a dramatic flourish.

You grab one of your throw pillows, setting it in your lap and squeezing tightly.

“Of course I’m avoiding you,” You continue, “I’m just expecting you to pull away again.”

You look at him for a moment, as he takes in your words. You can almost watch him process them, eyelids fluttering as he maybe debates internally.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, coming to sit beside you on your couch. His eyes are earnest and warm, and it takes you by surprise.

You honestly doubted he’s said those words to many people.

“I push you away, I do, when I first offered you the job, you said that you weren’t interested if I was only doing it to get involved with you.”

He swallows, he looks so nervous that your heart almost breaks for him.

“I just didn’t want you to think that was true.” He continues, “You’re a good employee, but the more I get to know you, the more I want to, and I find that very dangerous.”

“Billy.” You say in a measured tone, waiting for him to stop avoiding your gaze and look at you directly.

“I believe you. You’ve made it very clear that you think I’m good for the job and I respect that.”

You can feel something shift between you, the animosity turning into understanding.

“I want to know you better too.” You finish, voice soft, earnest.

He blinks quickly, looking away. You can’t help your body’s response to him, the memory of his mouth on yours sparking up ill-timed tingles.

“I don’t want anyone devaluing your work because we’re close.” He responds.

Chest constricting, you smile sadly.

“I- that means a lot to me. But, people will find any excuse to do what they want. I just want to be true to myself and let the pieces fall where they have to.”

He looks at you, the corners of his mouth pulling subtly upwards.

“So, you forgive me then?”

You reach for his hand, covering it with yours, giving an affectionate squeeze.

“Of course I do.”

He turns his hand upward, interlocking your fingers, eyes drifting down to look at your joined hands.

Tingles spread from where he touches, moving from your arm all the way up to your chest. You gulp, looking at him, studying his face, remembering the kiss.

That damned kiss.

You watch him take a deep breath, and he looks up at you. It’s a long and heated moment and he doesn’t look away, doesn’t pull back.

You don’t know who moves, or if you both do, like magnets being pulled into each other, a force of attraction that cannot be seen with the bare eye, cannot be felt by anyone else other than you.

He’s so close that your noses almost brush. You can feel his warm breath dancing across your skin in little puffs.

"We, we um," You try to focus on anything other than his lips, looking into his half opened dark eyes as you try to speak, "We shouldn't be alone together."

"No?" He asks softly, a little tilt of his head and you watch his eyes drop to your lips, "Why's that?"

"Because..." You trail off.

Because I can't keep myself in control around you, you want to say.

Instead, you close the distance between your bodies, leaning in to kiss him.

A low sigh leaves the back of your throat as your lips meet. You feel your stomach flip happily at the reunion of your mouths.

He groans, the vibrations tingle against your lips, his large hand rising to cup your jaw, warm thumb stroking over your cheek.

You move closer, till you're almost in his lap, your fingers twitch nervously as your hands rest on his chest, sliding their way up into his hair.

You try to fight the urgency, the impatience scratching at the back of your head to just take and take and take.

Your lips part, gently tracing the tip of your tongue along his bottom lip for only a second before pulling back. 

He makes an abrupt sound, drawing back suddenly, breaking the kiss. His movements are so surprising that you lean away from him and allow him the space to stand.

Your heart squeezes as you look at his back.

You're almost afraid to ask.

"Is everything okay?"

He doesn't speak for a long moment, raising a hand to rake through his hair.

"Yes, just wanted to check- are you sure about this?"

You blink.

"Yes, I am... are you? It's okay if you don't like me that much, we can stop."

He spins around as if you've said something positively absurd.

"Like you? You think I don't like you?"

You look down sadly, smoothing a hand over your knees.

"Well, yeah, you, you dismiss me sometimes as if you're not interested. It can come across as dislike, or even a little mean."

"Mean?" He says, taking long strides to stand before you, your head tilting down to follow his form as he kneels before you.

He looks at you for too long, and you have to look away or melt into a puddle under the pull of his dark eyes.

Carefully, he raises his hands to cover yours, smoothing over your skin with the tips of his fingers.

"When I'm around you, I'm usually using every ounce of strength I have to stop myself, to hold back so that I don't scare you off."

He swallows, tilting his head, his eyes locked on your joined hands.

"I want so many things, and you most of all. I've just been shit at showing it."

"You really have." You agree.

A smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

You raise a hand, cupping his cheek softly, thumb exploring the pout of his lips, the scratch of his beard.

His eyebrows draw together, he leans in, rubbing his bearded cheek into your hand.

"I'm worried," He whispers, "That I won't be able to stop."

"I trust you." You say to him softly, reaching up with your other hand to curl your fingers into the collar of his shirt.

"And I don't want you to stop." 

You pull him in then, his body pressed to yours as you seal your lips together in a heated rush. Your body trembles with the sensation of having him all around you, so close like he's the layer of air surrounding you.

His hands cup your cheeks, blunted fingers gripping tight, daring you to be apart from him for more than the space of a breath.

Your insides unfurl with something akin to delight, your toes curl. You lean into him more, accepting anything he's willing to give, and answering with desire of your own. 

You fight to keep the kiss slow, enjoy the way his mouth moves sinfully on yours. 

But it's too powerful, this need you have for him, you want to scratch and claw and submit and surrender and take and it just turns like a tornado in your head until you're biting gently on his bottom lip, tugging on it with careful precision, body pulsing as you hear the low sound that leaves him.

He draws away for a moment looking at you with even eyes.

"You torment me." He whispers, pressing his lips to yours once more, any pretence of slow and careful being thrown out of the window.

You torment me too, you want to say.

He rises, pushing you back until your body lies flat on your couch, and he hovers above you. You keep his mouth firm to yours, fingers tangled in his soft hair, exploring his back and shoulders, and when you part your lips again, jutting your tongue out playfully, you're delighted when you meet his tongue in return.

Your legs on either side of his hips gripping him tight, daring him to pull away from you as he kisses you senseless, your tongues dancing together in wet bliss.

"I could kiss you all night." Billy says between kisses.

You nod, humming in agreement, pulling his mouth back to yours.

Your skin tingles, his careful fingers tracing your cheeks and moving down your neck. 

You arch your body against his eagerly, so willing to give every part of yourself to him.

He slides his hand into the space between your arched back and the couch, keeping your body curved into his, your breasts rubbing against his chest, you wiggle your hips in an attempt to ease the near painful ache between your thighs.

You feel his cock then, stiff against his pants, and he groans into your mouth when your hips chase the firm sensation.

He whispers your name against your lips, a warm, broken sound of a man losing control of himself.

"Billy," You gasp, foreheads pressed together, resisting the heat of desire pulsing between your bodies, "I need you." 

You feel his entire body shudder.

He nods, nose brushing yours as his lips move away from yours, kissing your jaw instead, and then the curve of your neck.

You cry out, his teeth worrying your skin, scraping against your sanity, soothing with gentle swipes of his tongue.

You feel yourself tremble, and tremble further when he moves down your body, frustrated hands pushing your dress up your thighs so that the bunched fabric settles on your hips.

He doesn't move for a moment, and you raise your head in worry to see him staring at the space between your parted thighs intensely.

"You don't have to." You whisper, misreading the expression on his face.

His dark eyes meet yours, he tilts his head for a moment, before his eyes drop to your clothed cunt once more. 

"It's not that." He says, his hands starting at your ankles and sliding their way up your legs, "I've just thought about this a lot."

You bite down on your bottom lip very hard, trying to remain focused, and not beg him to fuck you within an inch of your life.

His hands stop midway between your knees and your ass, and he looks up at you.

"You want this?" He asks.

You almost groan in frustration.

"Yes, yes I really do."

"Tell me." 

You gulp.

"Tell you?" You ask, your head too disoriented to focus on what he's asking you to do.

"Tell me you want me to lick your cunt."

A little needy sound leaves you at his words. You clench around nothing, gathering your thoughts for a second before you speak.

"Billy," You finally whisper, "Please, lick my... cunt." 

A devilish smile pulls at his lips.

"Of course." He hums, his hands resuming their upward trail.

He grips either side of your underwear and you tilt your hips up, watching him anxiously, trying to read every expression on his face.

You know you're wet, that you've most likely soaked the gusset of your panties with your arousal. 

You study him, as he tugs your undergarment off your legs and lays his eyes on your bare center for the first time.

His lips part, eyes dark as he looks at you. You watch his throat bob as he swallows.

Your breath catches as you feel the tips of his fingers graze your wet slit. Your mouth drops open at the gentle sensation.

His thumb finds your clit easily, grazing the swollen bud and you let out a harsh sob, back dropping onto the couch, unable to hold your body up.

"So. Fucking. Pretty." Billy says, so clearly that it makes you ache even more for him.

You groan when you feel his lips on your inner thigh, leaving careless tingles in the wake of his mouth, he kisses his way over your skin, and there's a short moment of pause where you feel a puff of his breath against your aching core before his mouth is on you.

A sweet kiss between your legs, a gentle promise to ease the ache inside you, and then he extends his tongue to slide against your clit.

It's like lightning, the speed at which the pleasure fills you, passing through you, amplifying, with the careful stroke of his tongue.

He groans between your thighs, his first taste of you leading to palms gripping at your thighs, fingers pressing into soft skin to keep you close.

His next lick is firmer, over and over again his tongue swipes over your clit, he makes another low moan, and the next glide of his tongue starts at your entrance and trails up to your clit.

You mewl, hands moving to cover your mouth, then down to cup his hands in yours, any attempt to process the delicious burn of pleasure blooming under your skin.

You sigh his name, you swear he answers with an easy swipe of his tongue.

It’s too much, embarrassingly so because he’s only just begun and here you are- already on edge for him.

Your resistance is futile.

His tongue claims ownership of your most delicate parts.

You never stood a chance.

Panting, your nails clawing at his hands, hearing his low voice hum in bliss between your thighs.

You make another soft groan of his name, it’s all you know, all you can remember in the hazy confines of your mind.

How is his tongue so skilled? How can he kindle you so easily? You are firewood and he’s a spark and now you’re burning just for him.

His beard tickles your thighs, you realised he’s paused his torment to kiss at your skin.

You’re helpless to it.

You can hear each desperate breath you take, it echoes in your ears, and then you let out another whine as he kisses your dripping cunt once again.

Filthy wet sounds as he takes care of you, tantalising groans as his tongue explores between your thighs, mapping places he’s only ever been in your mind.

The inferno rages, and when his lips massage your clit, sealing around it easily, his tongue playing with your swollen bud, you feel feverish with the euphoria.

“I- I’m-” You whimper, trying to tell him, an attempt to get him to understand.

He already does.

Groaning, one hand unfurling from around your thigh to reach his way up your body.

He tugs at your dress, pulling the strap off your shoulder and tugging it as far down as it will go. His tongue doesn’t slow as he pulls at your clothes, until one of your breasts is exposed to the cool air.

“Fuck.” You cry as he cups your hot skin, thumb finding your peaked nipple easily and dancing his thumb over it.

You feel the pleasure arc it’s way down your spine, joins with his tongue, threatens you with pleasure you’ve never experienced before.

You have one brief moment of sanity, where you’re acutely aware that your body is on a precipice, ready to fall at the next touch of Billy’s tongue.

All you can think in that one small moment is, Oh my fucking god.

And then you fall.

Frantic gasps as hot waves of pure pleasure crash over you. You feel the walls of your cunt spasm, clenching rhythmically around nothing. Every movement of your body is involuntary, each tremble and shake is something beyond your control.

Billy keeps the pleasure focused on you, helping you through your orgasm and into barely bearable territory.

He stops his torment when you whimper, pulling his messy mouth from your equally messy cunt, giving your breast another affectionate glide of his hand before pulling back.

You raise your head, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, watching him lick your arousal off of his lips.

You look at each other for a long moment. There’s that worry in the back of your mind that a clear line has been crossed so severely that it cannot be taken back.

If he has any inkling of your current train of thought, he doesn’t show it, leaning in instead, his fingers gripping your chin softly to keep you close to him.

“If you’d let me, I’d spend the rest of the night with my head buried between your thighs.”

Your breath hitches, you clench around nothing.

He smiles, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, observing your rumpled state, your dress pushed up to your hips, one strap falling off your shoulder, exposing your breast. You look like a proper mess where he still looks mostly put together.

You wanted to change that.

You sit up, sliding your body off your couch and standing on shaky legs. His eyes follow your every movement, and when you bunch your dress up, and tug it over your head, you try your hardest not to be shy about it.

He’s seen you touch yourself before, your mind supplies helpfully, it’s nothing to be naked in front of him.

It definitely helps, the reminder that he’s fucked his fist to the sight of you. You stand naked in front of him now, watching his every expression.

His eyes roam your bare skin, your body tingles at the feeling, his eyes as warm as a gentle touch on your skin. There’s just something about the moment, an understanding, a level of appreciation that’s so potent you can almost feel it.

He stands, takes a step in your direction.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Billy says, his voice low and hoarse.

“Yeah?” You ask, raising a hand to cup the smooth underside of your breast.

When he takes a step toward you, you take one back. You can tell he’s intrigued by the idea of it, the slow chase.

“Of course you are. You make it hard for me to think when you walk into a room.”

He takes another step, and you mirror his movement.

“That sounds awful. How do you put up with me?” You tease, taking more steps back, slowly guiding him into your bedroom.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“I think about pressing you to the first flat surface and making you mine.”

A shiver of delight goes down your spine.

“Is that why you’re always so mean? Because you’re thinking about fucking me?”

“Obviously.” He answers, before raising his arms above his head and pulling his shirt off in one magnificent display of muscle.

You let out a little squeak at seeing him up close, you almost run toward him, instead of backing away from him. 

Even with his shirt off, he looks so magnificently dangerous that you can feel how bad your arousal is for him. His chest is broad and lined with a delicious amount of muscle, his biceps are near perfection, and your body tingles for a taste. A trail of hair from the spot below his navel into his pants makes you flushed with heat. You imagine briefly what is cock is like, remembering absentmindedly the time he assured you that he was bigger than the large dildo sitting in your nightstand.

What makes him more delectable is the scars that cover parts of his body. There are some on his left shoulder, what looks like a bullet hole in his lower abdomen. You gulp, acknowledging the fact that his flaws only make him more perfect, more mouthwatering.

You almost forget that you’re naked, only gasping in surprise when your back comes into contact with the chilled surface of your bedroom door.

He lets out a slow breath, palms pressed to either side of your body, not close enough to touch, but just enough to make you feel trapped, his warm breath on your skin.

“You want this?” He checks in, tilting his head to the side to observe you.

You nod, looking up at him, he nods along with you in a slight mocking manner.

“I want to hear you say it.” He murmurs, his fingertips tracing your shoulder gently, goosebumps on your skin as he works his way down your arm, taking your hand in his.

Your mouth parts in surprise when he presses your hand to the outline of his cock. You can feel the raw size of him, hot and stiff against the palm of your hand. You realise, in the back of your mind, that he really was large- bigger that you’d initially thought.

“Tell me you want me.” He pleads.

You gulp, hands exploring the stiff erection in his pants, your fingers squeezing around the sides to get an approximation of his girth. Your clit aches with just the idea of his size.

“I more than want you, Billy, I need you. Inside me, so deep that I never forget the feeling.”

He nods frantically, unable to hold himself back, he leans in to kiss you.

You throw your arms around his neck and enjoy the slide of your fingers against his hot skin.

He breaks the kiss for a second, lowering himself to grip your thighs. You wrap one careful leg around his hip, and upon his insistence you transfer your weight fully onto him, his hands supporting your naked backside.

You cling to him as he lifts you, desperate, body aching for more and more of his touch.

You’re not sure how he does it, and you have no time to marvel at his strength before he grips your jaw, bringing your mouth back to his.

You sigh, cupping his cheeks, fingers scratching at his beard, feeling the hairs tickle your palms. You melt into his body, feeling him groan as his mouth moves over yours.

He walks you into your room, and you have no care for your surroundings, your hands too busy exploring his back and shoulders and anywhere else you can get your hands on.

He bends, placing you gently onto your bed, his hands rising to cup your cheeks, and then making their way over every inch of your shoulders.

“God, you’re so soft.” He rumbles against your mouth. You gasp when his palms cup both your breasts in his large hands.

“I could just touch you all damn day.”

He’s so talkative now, and you find yourself loving each word that leaves his lips.

“Touch me all day, lick me all night- when am I getting fucked?” You tease, hearing him laugh into your mouth.

“When you ask for it.” He says decisively, pressing you onto your back.

It’s like he can’t leave your mouth, pulling back for a moment, only to draw back to your lips in a heated  rush. It makes you laugh, your body readily receptive to him.

He kisses your neck and jaw, electric tingles all over your skin, desperate shivers as he cups your breasts, pushing them together and kissing over them. 

You gasp, writhing below him, his mouth on your skin feels amazing, he works his way down and you gasp, your thighs spreading easily when he moves to settle himself between them.

He doesn’t say another word, his tongue reuniting with your clit, swirling careful circles around your heated bundle of nerves. You gasp, arching your back, fingers drifting into your hair.

“Billy!” You gasp, and the vigour of his tongue increases until he’s just flat out making out with your cunt.

Your head swims, pleasure in every essence of your cell and you feel a lone finger drift in careful circles at your entrance.

“Fuck!” You cry, feeling his finger hovering right at your entrance for a long moment. He’s mean, his fingers tormenting you as his tongue licks over your clit at a steady pace.

“Please,” You sob, tilting your hips up, trying to chase the pleasure he’s not yet ready to give.

You try to breathe through it, squirming beneath his body, his hand grips your hip, thumb moving in firm circles to keep you calm.

You shudder in bliss when his finger sinks halfway into you.

It’s not enough, and too much all at the same time. His breath on your mound, his tongue laving lazily at your clit, he curls his lone finger partially upwards, scattering pleasure before withdrawing his finger.

“No,” You cry, “Please please please please fuck me Billy,” Your breath hitches, “I need it so bad.”

You feel him hum, before his finger re-renters you.

“Poor sweet girl.” You think you hear him mumble from his spot between your thighs, and then he begins rocking his finger in you so gently, that it’s almost more of a micromovement than anything. Yet somehow still, he manages to give you pleasure.

“Please please please,” You keep whispering, afraid that he’s going to stop giving you what you need, what you crave for and dream about. He’s every fantasy come to life, tongue rolling over your clit wetly, an easy rhythm of pleasure that he draws out from you leaving no thoughts in its wake.

A broken sound escapes you, desperate, aching, and you think he almost feels apologetic with the way he lines up a second finger against your entrance.

It’s debauchery, the way his fingers feel, broader and longer than yours could ever, makes you feel so insanely full when he carefully pushes two digits all the way into you.

He fills the deepest parts of you, erases any sense of emptiness, makes you forget that you’d ever craved fullness in the first place.

And then his fingers start to move.

Your breath escapes you in a hot rush, mouth dropping open as he starts off slow, painfully slow, rocking his fingers into you, curling them up, making sure you feel every little movement.

His tongue is still playing with your clit, you feel like crying, you’ve never felt this way before.

You say his name, one hand moving from his hair, over to where he grips your hip. You want to hold his hand, and he obliges easily, fingers linking with yours, make you feel so much warmer and safer with him than ever before.

I’ve got you, he seems to say with his actions, go ahead and fall for me.

And of course you do.

Cunt spasming around his fingers, desperate cries leaving your mouth as he winds you up and helps you through your second release.

You whimper, little gasps leaving the back of your throat as your body shudders with the oncoming pleasure. He keeps pumping his fingers into you, and you can almost feel the smile he has on his face, pressed to your cunt. You squeeze his other hand in yours tightly, his thumb smoothing over your skin even then.

When he detaches from your heated centre, you sit up quickly.

You lean into him, pressing your mouth to his frantically, reaching for the zipper of his pants. He tries to help you, one hand trying to work at the button while the other grips the back of your head, but you only get in each other’s way.

You laugh into his mouth as you both fumble, but silently thankful when finally you get his pants undone.

He has to pull away with a grin on his face, climbing off the bed so that he can shove the material of his pants and his boxers off in one go.

You go brainless when you see his cock. Erect and near throbbing, a little bit curved, you feel your mouth water as you stare at the monster between his legs.

He was very right to tell you that he was bigger than your dildo, you swallow nervously, trying to figure out exactly how that was going to fit inside of you. 

Your eyes manage to glance at this thigh, you see a deep gouge on the side of his right thigh, you tilt your head in worry wondering what could have caused a scar like that, one that runs from his hip to his knee.

It must have hurt terribly, and your heart aches for whatever malady he’s been through in his past.

You seek to give him pleasure now, crawling on all fours to the edge of your bed, looking up at him for a moment, before dropping your head to suckle at the tip of his cock.

Billy hisses.

The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth. You can’t help humming at the taste of him. Slowly, you begin to bob your head, taking as much as comfortably possible.

His fingers cup the back of your head, slightly guiding your movements with no real force behind it.

“Good girl,” He grunts, guiding your movements, you hear him shudder out a violent breath, “So good for me.”

It makes you even more aroused, to know that you’re capable of returning the pleasure he gives.

Something shifts in the next moment, and he’s pulling his cock from your mouth and encouraging you into a kneeling position on your bed.

Your eyes slip shut as his mouth meets yours, something frantic inside of him now, and you’re eager and helpless to give him what he wants.

.

Billy can’t fight the predator anymore. The sensation of you sucking eagerly on his cock is too much and his control has slipped beyond his scope of reach.

Your hair is askew as he guides you onto your soft pillows, silk, to protect your gorgeous hair from damage. He pauses to look at you, your obedient eyes, willing to comply with anything he asks and it fills him with an uncontrollable power. The scent of your arousal is thick in the room, the aftertaste of your mouth and your cunt mixing on his tongue until he couldn’t extract himself from you even if he tried.

He hums, pressing his cock against your inner thigh, the heat and softness of your skin filling him with too much want. He’s fighting the predator, that pushes him to claim what was already his, what would be freely given to him if he asks.

.

His nose brushes your cheek gently.

“Are you sure you want this?” Billy asks softly, and you almost want to groan in frustration.

“Yes, please.” You say on a desperate breath, and you feel him kiss your cheek in response.

He takes your left hand in his, kissing at the tips of your fingers and you wonder if after tonight you’d be able to feel the ghost of his lips on your skin.

Fingers intertwined, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, he uses his other hand to align his cock with your entrance.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” He asks after a second, and you nod frantically, squeezing his hand and daring him to even think about stopping.

“So good for me.” He whispers against your cheek and then his cock is pressed intimately against your entrance.

He stretches you, and opens you up even further until he’s fit snugly inside of you, filling you so much that you’re not sure how you can breathe with the intrusion.

His nose brushes yours affectionately.

“How do you feel?” He asks, as if you’re capable of assembling any semblance of thought.

Your lips part, you suck in a deep breath, the very first, with his cock pressed deep inside of you.

He waits patiently for the answer.

“Good,” You breathe, “So good, Billy oh my god.” You express.

He gives a sweet little smile that manages to get you even more aroused.

“I’m glad to hear it. Ready for the rest?”

The-?

“What?” You ask obtusely.

“My cock, sweetheart, would you like the rest of it?”

You try to raise your head for some type of explanation but you don’t get very far with his body pinned against yours. His eyebrows draw together at your shocked expression.

“There’s more of you?” You whisper in astonishment.

The corner of his mouth quirks up, and suddenly he’s laughing, burying his face in your neck and chuckling away as if his cock isn’t the largest thing you’ve ever tried to take. 

His laughter is sweet though, soft and lyrical and you can’t help clenching on his cock, and hearing his laughter turn into a groan, squeezing your linked fingers.

“Yes,” He gasps, lost in the tight grip of your cunt, “Yes, there’s more of me.”

Your eyes are wide, a little afraid, anchoring yourself to him in hopes that he helps you through your fear.

“Take a big breath for me sweetheart.” he guides, with a steady, calm voice, nodding his head as you accept his guidance.

“And out.” 

You do as he says, and shudder with pleasure as your body relaxes fully, you feel him slide deeper, eyelids fluttering as you discover more and more of him.

Finally, when his hips are pressed squarely to yours, and his cock fills you beyond what you thought you were capable of, does he finally say your name on a heated gasp.

You cup his cheek, thumb grazing over his rough stubble, he closes his eyes and presses his cheek to your palm and withdraws a little.

The first rock of his hips takes your breath away on a frantic sound. You hear him grunt in response, grinding his hips against yours, not moving too much but easily working into you.

“Billy.” You sob, legs tightening around his hips, one hand still linked with his.

He leans down, seals his mouth over yours, rocks into you in slow, lilting movements. You hum against his mouth, feels his body all around you, deep inside of you, holding you hostage and protecting you from everything except himself.

“You take me so well.” He grunts, his hot breath on your lips.

His mouth trails over your cheek, he kisses sweetly at your neck and shoulders.

His pace increases, his delectable body over yours, giving you pleasure that you barely understand.

His hand releases yours for a moment, only to grip both your wrists and pin them above your head, held firm in one large hand.

His grip on your wrist hurts a little, only adds to the pleasure of him fucking you.

He can’t stop kissing you, delving his tongue past your lips and exploring your mouth while he claims your body, hips rocking faster and faster into you the more time goes by.

He reaches a depth inside of you that you’ve never felt before, fills you with himself until you’re sure you’re the most whole you’ve ever been.

His cock pumps into you, your cunt is pulsing, sending large waves of immeasurable pleasure up your spine to fill your head. You feel your thighs tremble as the euphoria makes it all the way to your toes.

He keeps that pace, probably noticing the mindless state of you, your inability to form a single word, or produce a sound that isn't a breathless moan. You feel his influence on you in the farthest reaches of your mind, giving you more pleasure than your body can handle.

Finally, the pleasure sweetened even further, and Billy, in tune with your body, speeds the rhythm of his thrusts to match your needs. You gasp, barely able to find the thoughts, your body overflowing with absolute ecstasy and you’re almost afraid of what falling over the edge with him will feel like.

“Good,” He growls lowly into your ear, a sound you’ve never heard before, untamed, unhinged, and he’s using it to give you praise.

“So good for me.” 

Your orgasm is involuntary. It’s not yours, only a response written by your body to answer his call. The sheer violence of your bliss takes your breath away, you feel your cunt clench hard around his cock, trapping him securely in place as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through you. 

Vaguely, you’re aware of him groaning, but you don’t have the headspace to focus at the very moment. Your arms pinned above your head, his lips kissing at your face and neck, bare nipples grazing his chest and his cock stretching you wide.

Your cunt spasms, your body trembles, and trembles even more when he resumes his fucking, not even waiting for your first orgasm to fully subside before he’s trying to throw you right into the throes of another.

He’s harsher now, and you love it, your body revelling in the way he seems to lose control. He raises his head, you look deeply into his dark eyes. You can’t see much thought behind his eyes either, and you become acutely aware that you might be lost inside each other.

It only makes you that more desperate for him.

.

There’s no such thing as control anymore.

Billy’s lost any semblance of it, any memory of what it was like to be sane. 

He has lost his old self, and he has found you.

All he wants now is to keep you like this, open and vulnerable on his cock for the foreseeable future. Your skin hot with bliss, little sweet cries filling his head.

He leans down, runs his tongue over the top of your breast, hears you gasp, loves the dirty way you love these things, appreciates the salty taste of your skin.

The predator in his head is synced up with him, both aspects of himself agreeing that this is where he belongs, balls deep in his mate, feeling her take everything he has to give.

He feels a completeness, that he can give you pleasure so easily, like his body was made just for you, to please you in every way possible.

He groans again, his voice beyond his control, hoping the low grovel of it doesn’t scare you, but even that makes your cunt squeeze him in satisfaction.

Yours. 

He was yours.

He would only ever be yours.

He adjusts the angle of his hips, and he watches your lips tremble and your eyes water when his cock kisses a very sensitive spot inside of you.

.

You blubber mindlessly, sharp breaths and trembling thighs and you open up to Billy and you take everything he has to give.

You cum with a sharp cry. Eyes squeezed shut, body trembling as you try to process the bliss.

His hot breath on your skin, hips speeding up and suddenly a low grunt escapes him.

You feel his cock pulsing against your hypersensitive walls, you feel his cum, filling up the deepest spots of you and you can’t help the rightness of it.

Eventually, he releases your wrists, still deep inside of you, he braces his weight on his arms so that he doesn’t crush you.

After a moment, his arms wrap around you, adjusting you slowly so that your body rests on his, head on his chest, his cock still buried to the hilt inside of you.

.

He tries to make you comfortable, the biological urge for him to stay inside of you for as long as possible is something he’s never experienced before and he doesn’t know exactly how to control it. 

He sighs, his orgasm still going through him, still filling you up though he doubts you can feel such subtle movements.

You burrow into him, and he hums in amusement, arms wrapping around your form, his heart pounding in his chest at how close you are.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, checking in, fingers absentmindedly reaching for the edges of your hair.

“Wrist.” You say groggily, raising your left hand to his face.

“Fuck.” He voices, his eyes landing on the subtle bruises marking your wrist, he can make out the print of his fingers where he’d curled them to grip you tightly.

“Why didn’t you say something?” He asks, pain spearing his chest at the very idea that he’d hurt you. He holds your forearm gently, examining the faint bruising.

“Loved it.” You reply simply, he can hear the sleepy inflections in your voice.

He’d hurt you… and you’d loved it?

He makes a mental note to get some ice for your wrist, and to check it in the morning to make sure it’s doing better.

Now, he places a gentle kiss to the little bruise, feeling the abnormal heat of it on his lips.

“I’m so sorry.” He says to you.

You hum.

“Loved it.” You repeat.

.

"How is that? Is that better?" Billy asks, a little towel wrapped around a bag ice cubes pressed to your wrist.

You hum lazily, peeking an eye open to look up at him. You’re on your side, facing him, your left hand between you, bent to be in a more comfortable position. 

“Doesn’t hurt.” You mumble, feeling sleep wrap itself carefully around your sated body. Your cunt is sore, quivering still from his use. 

“Just a little uncomfy.” You try to explain.

He looks extremely concerned for a brief moment.

“I’m really sorry,” He tries to apologise for the fifth time.

You smile, shuffling your body closer to his, watching him focus on trying to keep his makeshift ice pack on your wrist. You kick a leg over his hip, not liking that he’d taken the time to put his boxers back on after he’d slipped from you earlier to grab the ice.

“Billy,” You murmur somberly, “I trust you, and if I really didn’t like it, I would have said something.”

“But I hurt you. Our first time together and I hurt you.” He says, his dark eyes so open and sad, hints of a frown turning down the corners of his lips.

You smile, your other hand rubbing his bicep and shoulder affectionately.

“I loved every second of it.” You whisper, unable to keep your mind conscious for a second more. You blink slowly, leaning into his body even more, heaving in a great big sigh.

“Please don’t leave.” You ask, as you tumble into unconsciousness.

.

He leans in, kissing the top of your head, and then your cold wrist, finally understanding that in your eyes, you don’t blame him.

His sweet girl, happy and asleep in his arms.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers, curling around you, the panther purring inside of him as he falls asleep beside you.

.

His eyes flutter open when his phone vibrates on your bedside table. He’d pulled it out of his pants pocket and dropped it there on his way to get you ice. 

You’ve crawled your way mostly onto his body, your head resting securely on his shoulder, he somehow still manages to be holding the melted ice pack on your wrist that rests on his chest, though he’s not sure if it even makes much of a difference right now. 

He’s groggy, not sure if he’s ever been that deeply asleep before, absolutely comfortable, the very right temperature, the scent of strawberries wrapped around him.

He drops the towel- wrapped ice pack onto the floor beside the bed, rubbing his eyes as his phone continues to vibrate. 

He reaches for it, pauses for a moment when his movement jostles you. He holds you tight as his fingers wrap around his phone.

He swallows, squints, slides to answer, keeping his voice soft so that he doesn’t wake you.

“Russo.” He answers automatically.

“Bill.” Frank says, and it’s all Billy needs to understand that something is very wrong.

“What is it?” Billy asks, “What happened?”

“My boy’s missing.” Frank responds.

.

You shiver with the cold, tugging your blanket up and over your shoulder and letting out a sigh.

In your sleepy state, the memory of last night comes back to you.

You smile, extending a hand out to reach for the warm body that had been nearby when you’d fallen asleep last night.

“Billy?” You grumble out, when your hand meets nothing but soft pillows.

No answer.

God, you think, if he left this time I am never going to speak to him again.

You peek an eye open, sighing when there is no deliciously gorgeous man lying mostly naked beside you. 

A groan slips past your lips, you extend your body out, stretching this way and that and huffing when you accidentally kick one of your pillows off of your bed.

You weren’t going to let your hope plummet just yet, maybe he was just in the bathroom, or the kitchen, maybe he was whipping you up a cup of coffee right now.

You say his name louder this time.

After a moment of no response, you climb out of bed, searching for him, finding your apartment empty of him.

You stand in your living room, trying to reason with yourself, trying to find answers for questions that you could barely formulate.

Was this going to be like the movies? When you’d just lost hope, he would pop in with a breakfast bagel and a latte and apologise for leaving you?

You swallow, going back to find your phone and dialling his number.

Voicemail.

Your throat tightens.

Surely he hadn’t made you sweet promises last night only to break them?

When your second attempt at calling him has the same outcome, your mind spins to a final conclusion.

He’d left you.

Again.

.

.

.

[romanoffsbish]

Sweet Nothings

Wanda Maximoff x F!R

A Torn up Masterpiece

Warnings: Self-Conscious/Deprecating R, Mean Shield Agents.

Smut: SOFT! Mommy (W), Little Dove (R), Thigh Riding (R), Fingering (R)

18+ | Minors DNI !!

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

“They said the end is coming, everyone's up to something..."

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

The clock flashing 12:00am was nothing short of taunting, it reminding you that you'd only made it through part of your day at Shield. There never used to be disdain in your heart for the agency, but that was back when you knew the agents around you, and when they knew you all the same. Natasha, Maria and Clint used to make the environment enjoyable. Now you hardly ever see them as they either moved on or up and left you to hold down the fort with the new, much younger crowd.

"Agent Y/L/N" this or "Miss Y/L/N" that, it didn't really matter how they addressed you, the words they spoke held hardly any respect, and the stares always rubbed you the wrong way when you would pass them in the halls.

"I just don't get it dude, how the hell did Agent Y/L/N bag a hottie like Wanda anyways?," you could hear the surrounding agents, they were either chuckling at your expense, or making grumbling noises in an obvious agreement., "There's nothing special about her at all, the little witch would be so much better with me, I'd show her what she's missing out on. I'd fu—.," your jaw clenched as you cut the asshole off with the clearing of your throat. Everyone of their bodies suddenly stiffened upon seeing you step out from around the corner., "Miss.."

With a dismissive wave of your hand the weak apologies died on Agent Marten's tongue., "Apologies will get you nowhere cadets, you're all wasting valuable company time gossiping in the halls, and about your superior mind you."

"With all due respect, we're level 1 agents, no longer are we cadets.," you chuckled at their attempts to defend themselves., "Oh yeah?.," he stupidly nodded—as if it wasn't rhetorical., "Well I'm a Level 8, Agent Vo, my clearance is far above yours, and let's be honest here, you're not acting like anything more than cadets."

"Quite frankly Y/N, I'm not even sorry here.," you remained stoic while staring the smug looking agent down., "You will be when I get you demoted to water boy Agent Marten—or should I say Muriel since we've lost our wits on respect around here, hm?," watching the color drain from his face was indeed satisfying as you revealed his first name to all his peers., "No, we all understand, and we're very sorry."

"Interesting change of tune there Agent, but I regret to inform you that disrespecting a commanding officer gets you a months worth of additional paperwork, and a suspension from missions—camaraderie is essential here at Shield, and if any of you were paired with me I'd feel unsafe—so take this time to reevaluate your decisions on making an enemy of me."

"Miss—."

"I'm sorry, did I ask for a debate cadets?," your hardened gaze seemed to have the desired effect as all of their shoulders collectively fell, and most reluctantly shook their head., "Good, because I much prefer not having to repeat myself. Fury and Hill will issue your formal suspensions, and I'll drop all of your additional paperwork off to you after the weekend."

As swiftly as you dismissed them they were gone, your intimidating posture fell once they were out of sight too. Words hardly ever had the power to get to you, but when your very worth is constantly a question on many others minds it's hard not to give in to all the noise.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"I find myself running home to your sweet nothings—Outside, they're push and shoving."

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

After dealing with the malicious agents you found yourself inside of Director Hill's office., "Long time no see Y/N/N, to what do I owe the pleasure of you slumped onto my couch, hm?," the woman laughed boisterously when she received a middle finger in response to her teasing., "Aww, I love you too pookie.," she dodged your pillow with ease as she sat down at her desk then silently observed you further. There was this obvious dullness to you that she had never seen before, and truthfully her heart broke a bit at the sight of you looking so low.

"Ria, I can't do it anymore, like I hate it here.," she nodded in understanding, she knew the cadets of today were nothing like the past sets., "I know, but I beg of you, please don't leave.," you sat up to face her with a broken smile., "You all left me first.," the raven haired woman immediately moved to sit next to you on the couch, pulling you into a side hug, and so you laid your head on her shoulder., "I'm here, and Romanoff's only a call away—I know she'd love to beat the new wave into shape—so call her."

"It's not the work Ria, they listen well enough. It's...," you take in a calming breath, deciding if the truth will set you free, or potentially harm you further., "Y/N, what did they say to you?," her eyes left no room for cowardice so with a heavy exhale you muttered the partial truth., "It wasn't to me, it was about me—behind my back but I unluckily heard it all."

Maria sat there patiently waiting for you to fill her in, and with every repeated word you were able to croak out over held back sobs she could feel her body filling with an unparalleled rage. One that she knew could only be beaten out by Wanda, the very person who you were left to questions love, all because others want her., "Wanda loves you wholly Y/N, forget the idiots that don't even know hers attempts to make you feel otherwise. That witch is all yours."

"What if they're right though? Like, what if I'm holding her back Ria? She deserves—.," Maria instantly cut your rambled fears off by burying your face into her shoulder, and moving to finish off your words., "You. She deserves you, and you my dearest friend, deserve her love.," and after she finished her arms held to you tighter as you began to quietly sob, her hold didn't relinquish either until you'd calmed.

"Go home.," you went to protest, even if some part of you came in here hoping she'd suggest just that, the other part of you didn't want to give the cadets even an ounce of pride here., "I'm not kidding Y/N, you're ahead of your work anyways, it's a forced vacation really.," you smiled at her gratefully too, hugging her tight as a silent thanks before finally leaving.

Once you left the room the woman instantly pulled out her phone., "Hey Wanda, it's Hill..."

—

When you left her office it was as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders, the pressure to be the very best agent significantly faded as you returned to your office to collect your things, but the peace was very much short lived.

"Did you hear the news?," you continued to collect your stuff, ignoring the group of giggling girls stood far too close to your office., "Turns out the Wanda Maximoff is dating the Natasha Romanoff.," one of the girls scoffed in obvious annoyance., "No, she's with Agent Y/L/N.," the original girl giggled., "For now..."

It was asinine—their claims were nothing if not unfounded, but for a brief moment you let your mind believe that there was some truth to it. Aesthetically speaking they did fit together; there's already a built in trust between them, as well as obvious love amongst one's chosen lot. Natasha and Wanda were inseparable in the field, you've even seen them work together, and you wonder if their loyalty to you hindered the potential for them to be happier together.

The need to escape was overtaking your body the more your mind gave in to the notion that Wanda was better without you, so you threw your bag over your shoulder haphazardly then made a beeline for the fire escape. No way did you intend to run into any of the people you knew here, nor did you want the cadets having the satisfaction that they were able to upset you in such ways that you couldn't finish work. Showing any sort of weakness to them would only fuel their entitlement to your peace on.

Once you stepped outside you felt a wave of relief as the fresh air traveled into your lungs. In and out, in—out; you were going to be fine. You were so out of it though that you didn't see the cruel stranger who wound up shoulder bumping you into a nearby wall. You winced harshly as your exposed skin scraped against the bricks. Looking up from the ground you saw the hustle and bustle of the New York streets, and once again you felt overwhelmed.

Your lip began to involuntarily tremble along with your hands, the need for escape had never been greater as you sprinted down the street. Ignoring the ache in your muscles the whole way as you were many miles out from yours and Wanda's shared home. There was no end in sight, your mind was running just as fast as your legs and nothing you did could stop it.

Truth be told you needed Wanda, nothing else was going to calm you down enough until you saw those beautiful green eyes of hers. They'll likely be full of concern, but if you could just see through to the love then you know your heart would settle. Sadly though, as you entered your home, falling onto the floor as your adrenaline faded and your legs gave out, you found it to be just as empty as your heart. She was at work, that much you expected, and if there's one thing you refused to do it was call her and beg her to come home to rescue you.

It took you an entire twenty minutes to crawl across the floor, then another ten to get up the stairs and finally you were in your bedroom. Reaching up you grabbed Wanda's sleep shirt from last night, you sniffed the fabric and felt relief as your body's trembling came to a stop. Your legs felt like jello when you moved to pull yourself up to your feet, staggering as you did you made your way into the bathroom where you turned the dial all the way to the left, and as soon as the water scorched your skin you broke down into a fit of unforgiving sobs.

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it...You're in the kitchen humming."

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

Stepping out of the shower was difficult, your limbs were shaky after the long time spent sobbing beneath the scalding hot streams of water. An obvious side effect of your sudden dehydration, but you managed to push through the struggle of walking as you managed to make it to and flop down onto the mattress.

Your mind was essentially fractured, broken lines of self deprecating dialogue running through it at a mile a minute with no reprieve. Still, you shut your eyes in a useless attempt to use sleep as an escape, but it too was fruitless. Thrashing about on the mattress felt more like your speed now, but just as you were about to throw said tantrum you caught a whiff of something so familiar and decadently sweet.

Wanda's triple fudge brownies...

In an instant you were on your feet, another wave of adrenaline fueled you as you quickly, but quietly made your dissent to the kitchen. The sound of soft humming was the next to reach you as you neared the bottom of the stairs, your senses were on overdrive tonight. Standing off to the side of the entryway you peered into the kitchen to see your lover with her apron on, her hair was pulled back, and a mixing bowl was expectantly sat in her hands.

"Detka, is that you?," she called out to you, her subtle way of letting you know she knew you were lurking. Her answer came in the form of you padding your way over to her, she settled her bowl down on the counter just in time to catch your distraught form in a calming hug., "Moya lyubov', you should've called me."

"Didn't want to bother you.," you mumbled into her chest, then as expected she pulled away to grip you by your shoulders., "Detka, what have I said to you countless times prior?"

"Th-that nothing comes before me, not even your Avenging, and that even if the world was burning you'd stop at nothing to get to me.," she nodded gratefully., "Exactly, you are my world Y/N, there's no point in me protecting everyone else's when yours is crumbling.," her forehead laid against yours while her hands lifted yours up to her lips for a tender kiss.

"You smell good honey.," she noted, traces of your vanilla lotion hitting her nostrils as she held your hands close to her face., "Thanks Wands...," you slowly pulled your head back, meeting her eyes full of love as you looked ahead and the sight alone was overwhelming.

"Did I smell brownies?," the witch chuckled at your silly means of deflection., "Yes, you did.," with a swift movement she dipped her finger into the batter then rose it up to your lips with a cheeky smirk, and an exaggerated wink as you swirled your tongue over the extended digit. Wanda's eyes darkened ever so slightly when you moaned, but she did her best to tamper her urges as you innocently met her gaze., "It's delicious mommy.," Fuck...

The dizzying moment only lasted for a second before the witch shifted you to sit on a stool besides the counter, then after she poured the batter into the baking pan she returned to you. Her body stood between your legs, and those oh so emotional eyes were back on you as she went to speak., "You're the best thing that ever happened to me Y/N/N, so please, I beg of you stop letting the naysayers win your mind over.," her hands shifted to cup your cheeks., "I've never loved anyone the way I have you, nor do I intend to ever love another as such."

After an intense bout of eye contact the first one to lean in was you, desperate for affection beyond the verbal, and Wanda gave you just that. Hands roamed beneath your loose fitting t-shirt in search of your perky nipples while her silky tongue delved right into your hot mouth. Whimpers of desperation reverberated from your throat, and got lost in her mouth as she continued to kiss you hard while her skilled fingers tease your sensitive nubs., "Mommy..."

Wanda nearly crumbled at how breathily you called out for her, always so desperate, but in moments like this one she forgoes teasing to the furthest degree. She's content with how worked up she got you as she slipped her thigh between your legs to find you already dripping.

"Oh my little dove, mommy's going to take such good care of you.," she promised as she slowly began to trail her lips across your flesh, her hands fell to your hips as she efficiently guided your hips movement against her thigh., "Mo-mommy please, I need more.," she flexed the muscle of her lush thigh at your pitiful request, the soft skin brushed against your clit causing your back to arch., "Mommy, oh god... I-I need to cum, please.," she bit into the skin over your racing pulse., "Let go little dove."

In an instant your head flew back as you reached that moment of unwavering ecstasy., "That's right detka.," she helped to prolong your orgasm by controlling your twitching hips., "Chase that pleasure my precious angel, you deserve to be worshipped; so beautiful."

Wanda threw her shirt that adorned your body across the kitchen when your body relaxed, then her lips found yours for a needy kiss., "Tell me what you need little dove, hm?," she gazed into your hazy eyes, a tiny smile graced your face when you could see right through her clouds of lust to the abundant wells of love., "Fingers please mommy.," she gently pecked your lips., "So well mannered detka, mommy's so proud of you for using your words too."

Wanda wrapped her arm around your waist, spinning you around until she had your upper body gently pressed into the table with your leg's widespread for her. A hoarse groan left her at the sight of your slick drenched thighs., "So pretty, you're always so perfect for me.," her nimble fingers trailed over the swell of your ass, pulling an affected moan from you when they grappled handfuls of the malleable skin on their way to their desired location—your cunt.

The woman knew you like the back of her hand, so she entered your tight hole rather roughly with two fingers, pulling them out just as fast to only slam them back in with another. She was rewarded with your wanton moans instantly, her expert fingers working you over with ease like usual, but her lips still held that tenderness you craved as they kissed over the column of your spine until stopping to place a far more firm kiss to the nape of your neck.

"Breathe moya lyubov'.," her whispers of concern didn’t go unnoticed by you as she could feel your back pressing into her as your upper body was rising rapidly, you tried to calm down, but the pleasure was immense. Wanda felt your walls fluttering around her., “M-mommy please.,” she settled a kiss to your cheek before her lips returned to marking your back up., “Let go little dove, cum for mommy.”

The timer on the oven dinged in sync with your throat scratching moans, your lover continued to work you through your orgasm, trailing kisses down your body while also using her powers to pull the brownie tray out of the oven. Tiny whimpers brought her hand to a stop, her fingers slowly slipped from within you, and she held steady eye contact with your blissed out face as she slid them in her mouth., “Divine…”

With a gentle hand she pulled you up from the table, her hands settled on your hips and in a moments time her lips were pressed to yours. There wasn’t a rush in anyone’s movements, just a hot, breathy kiss that made hearts flutter. Wanda’s arms loosely held you against her as she shared your taste with you, rewarding her with your whimpers and languid moans up until you couldn’t keep up anymore. Then while you caught your breath after she pulled back you found your lips being tapped again.

You mindlessly bit into the gooey brownie, an appreciative groan left your throat instantly., “Thanks Wands.,” she smiled softly at you., “Anything for you little dove.,” she frowned when your lip began to tremble., “Oh detka…”

Wanda’s resolve broke when your shaky hands tugged on her shirt, the moment of bliss fading as your body once again filled with sadness. She quickly snapped the fabric away, allowing you to lean into her bareness for the comfort you craved, and her strong arms held you so close so that she could sway your now crying form while humming softly into your ear.

No amount of loving you seemed to be doing the trick, Wanda's heart ached as your cruel thoughts continued to run through your mind. They were so loud, and the bulk of them made no sense, but she knows they weren't created by you, just simply adopted from the assholes who knew nothing about your relationship.

Wanda carefully carried you to the bedroom, a tray of necessities floating behind her and settling down on the bedside table as she sat down on the bed. Her jaw clenched as thoughts of yours were only increasing and infiltrating her mind, the harshness of your insecurities fully breaking her heart, and the sounds of your sobs only made her hold you tighter.

"Natasha's just a friend detka, one that adores you by the way, the woman demands updates on you every Monday—you should call her.," the witch softly began to dispel the thoughts., "I am not going anywhere; you're it for me.," her arm that was wrapped around your bare waist tightened, pulling you in even closer as if you'd disappear into thin air if she hadn't.

"I love you so much detka, with all of me, can't you see that you're everything I'll ever need?," Wanda whispered against your temple, her lips gentle as they laid soft kisses to your hairline., "I'm enough for you?," she instantly lifted your head from her shoulder., "More than enough.,” the intensity of her gaze as she spoke so softly instantly began quelling all of your fears.

A broken hum reverberated from your throat, causing the redhead to shift the both of you until your naked body laid flat atop the bed., "My goodness, those kids did a number on you my dear.," she pecked your lips gently., "Don't worry detka, I shall handle all of them myself.," you shook your head, but she only smirked., "I'm thinking I'll hang them all upside down from the ceiling by their 'tighty whities'."

The witches heart fluttered as you broke out into a hearty fit of laughter, your eyes—puffy from crying, closing as you allowed the spark of joy to completely consume you., “Wands, no.,” you choked out through your laughter and she scrunched her nose up adoringly as you tried to regain a hold on your sternness., “Y/N, yes.,” the light of your life pecked your lips a few times to spur on your giggling before she rolled off of you and propped herself up onto her side.

“I love you baby, thank you for being my rock.,” she looked to you with glossy eyes that spoke to you of her heart., “I am only being to you what you’ve been to me countless times prior Y/N.,” she settled a hand over your cheek, rubbing the damp skin lovingly., “My precious dove, you’ve brought me back from the depths of despair with your love, and you held no expectations.,” she pulled you in for a soft kiss., “It’s only fair that I extend you the same courtesy; you are not meant to hold it all in detka—let me help.”

Her thumb brushed away the reemergence of tears before she was moving to place delicate kisses all over your face, and it was when you calmed that she saw the smile on your face., “You’re all I need Wands, just you existing is enough for me.,” her eyes closed as your lips pressed into her palm, basking in the warmth that was your love before she shifted closer., “Funny, I was going to say the same to you.”

Wanda pulled your body atop of hers, your face now laying in the valley of her breasts while her hand carded through your hair., "You know.," she paused to peer down to ensure you weren't already asleep., "I used to dream of moments like these.," she smiled up as she remembered her months of silent pining., "Whenever I'd visit Shield with Natasha I'd find myself drawn to you Y/N—the most beautiful woman alive."

You snorted., "Baby, that's a bit hyperbolic.," she immediately brushed you off., "No, it's just the honest to God truth detka, you captivated me from the very start.," she smiled down at you when you shifted to your stomach, resting your chin on her abdomen as you looked up at her with curious eyes brimming with tears.

Her hands brushed the hair from your face, then the right one remained on your cheek., "And it also went way further than your looks. I'd found myself drawn to your laughter first—it was contagious, then came your kindness—goodness me Y/N/N, I'd never seen someone more considerate than you.," she sighed when she was met with disbelief in your returned gaze., "The honest point here moya lyubov', is that my dreams could never live up to the reality of what it's been like to not only love you, but to be loved back by you; this is the closest thing to paradise I'll ever get detka."

"You're too good to me Wands.," her thumb gently removed your lip from between your teeth., "No, I'm just treating you as you deserve to be treated detka. You deserve the world."

Wanda gently maneuvered your body until your face hovered hers, she pulled you down for a soft kiss that she instantly deepened, and in a moment of pure relief your mind stilled. Thoughts to the negative faded from your mind, and the witch found herself smiling into the lip lock when they phased into kinder ones, and to the ones full of giddy optimism that had her heart fluttering uncontrollably in her chest.

"I love you so much wiggly woos.," the woman then groaned as you found a way to 'ruin' the moment, but your accompanying giggling as you fell into her settled her weak annoyance., "Marry me then.," she reassured your hopes, and she chuckled when you gasped against her.

"W-Wands I—.," she allowed you a moment to stutter, then she smiled when you looked at her questioningly., "I'm serious Y/N—be my wife."

"Really?," your lip trembled as you felt her overwhelming love radiating from just the simplest of touches, and her smile., "Really.," she nodded in the affirmative., "Yes! Please!"

Wanda chuckled at your enthusiastic response, all the while her heart was beating rapidly as she hastily reached into the drawer of your bedside table and pulled out a velvet box., "This wasn't a spur of the moment decision detka, well, it kind of was but I promise it was already in the works.," she shifted you both up into sitting positions so she could showcase the diamond more efficiently, and she smirked when your eyes lit up with a bewildering shine.

"You're everything I could ever want and more detka.," she gently pecked your lips while her hands practically yanked the jewelry from the pesky box., "Now give me your pretty hand!"

The two of you shared excited high pitched giggles, rolling around the bed in all your naked glory., “We’re getting married!,” your squeals filled the little witch to the brim with joy, her nose crinkling affectionately as she watched your eyes swimming with a purity., “I’ll be right back love.,” Wanda left you with a momentary pout, coming back into the room she popped open a bottle of champagne you received from the Barton’s last Christmas with a loud agreement., “We’re getting married!!!”

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

"All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing"

—•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•~~~~~~•—

“We’re getting married.,” you tiredly cheered for what appeared to be a final time before you were succumbing to your bodies exhaustion, and so your wife to be was now covering you both up with a fuzzy red blanket, and flicking the bedrooms lights off with her red tendrils.

“Goodnight Mrs. Maximoff.,” she whispered cheekily against your puffy cheek., “I love you Y/N/N, my precious little dove; my wildest dream come true, oh how I yearned for you.,” she placed a final kiss to your pouting lips, a smile instinctively rises on your sleeping face and melts her even further if that’s possible.

“Forever will never be long enough with you.,” her hand intertwined with yours as she settled into the mattress, allowing your bubble of love to warm her soul, and send her off to sleep too.

——————————

4,644 Words

🥰 Kaitlyn 😘

[deathtodickens]

Later...

Claudia: Why do you look like that, man?

Pete: I can't get this bronzer to come off.

Claudia: Did you get the temporary stuff?

Pete: Tem... porary?

Claudia: Dude.

Pete: Huh, well that explains that.

Claudia: Why do you even have it on to begin with? And so much?

Steve enters the kitchen, stops and stares at Pete.

Steve: Who won an Oscar?

Claudia laughs, pointing at Pete.

Pete: Ha ha very funny.

Claudia: It was.

Pete: Hey, leave the jokes to a professional, okay? Of which, I am.

Steve: Not at all shockingly, you truly believe that.

Pete: It's the first day of October. I'm just trying out a few costumes before the 31st, to see if I can get H.G. back into the spirit of Halloween.

Steve: I wish you were lying.

Claudia: Do we want H.G. back in the spirit of Halloween? I recall the last Halloween that she was into being a bit too spirity.

Pete: Of course, we do--

Steve: Not. We absolutely do not. Do you not remember what happened?

Pete: Yeah, we all went on an amazingly awesome adventure in the Warehouse, together, as a family. We fought off animated Halloween decorations that stalked us in the dark. Myka used the zip-line upside-down like a bad ass to save her wife from encroaching darkness. And then we blew up every light in the warehouse to level an army of murderous, soul-snatching plastic skeletons--

Steve: That took us days to clean up...

Claudia: I'm still changing lightbulbs...

Pete: --and I'm not so sure all of those skeletons were plastic.

Claudia: It was kind of fun blowing up the Warehouse. You know, in a not-destructive kind of way.

Steve: No, no. It was destructive. It was a very destructive kind of way.

Claudia: Right. Sure. But we didn't have to artifact it back.

Pete: What's another warehouse explosion amongst friends, huh?

Claudia: I mean, I do still have some light bombs stashed away in my room. Don't tell Artie.

Pete: That's the spirit!

Steve: I just want to drink hot tea, read a book, and watch the weather change from the comfort of my own bed, in my own room. Is that so much to ask?

Steve does not wait for an answer. He turns and leaves the kitchen.

Abigail enters in his place, she stops and stares at Pete.

Then bursts into laughter.

Abigail: I really thought Myka was pulling my leg when she said you'd lathered yourself up in bronzer, just to play a prank on Helena.

Pete: It wasn't a prank. It was encouragement. She loves Halloween!

Abigail: She loved Halloween. I think the soul-snatching skeletal remains of a Spirit Halloween clearance sale sucked that love right out of her.

Pete: Well. She liked my costume.

Abigail: That's not what I heard.

Pete: Then you've heard nothing but dirty, rotten lies.

Abigail: Did she seem amused when you revealed your costume?

Pete: She didn't seem entirely unamused.

Abigail arches a skeptical brow at Pete.

Claudia: What was the prank?

Pete: Not a prank.

Claudia: What was the not-a-prank?

Abigail: Apparently, when Helena questioned him about (Abigail gestures toward Pete with her hand) this, he said, very enthusiastically, that he'd been bronzed.

Claudia: Peter Jenkins Lattimer.

Pete: That is not my middle name.

Claudia: The woman has trauma!

Pete: It was inspiration!

Claudia: Fueled by nightmares!

Abigail: I don't think the woman who spent a century encased in bronze needs to be inspired. Like, at all.

Pete: That was a century ago.

Claudia: No, it started a century ago. She's barely been free for one decade.

Abigail: You do know she remained conscious the entire time.

Pete: I know she remained conscious the entire time.

Claudia: And was so fucked up when she got out, all she wanted to do was destroy the world and everyone in it.

Pete: I mean, I was there. So yeah. I do recall her attempting to, at one point in time, destroy the world and everyone in it. Thankfully Myka's hotness saved our asses.

Claudia gasps.

Pete: What?

Claudia: You did bronzeface!

Pete: What? No. That's not a thing.

Claudia: You're doing it right now!

Pete looks to Abigail.

Abigail: Don't look at me. I was born this way.

Claudia: I can't believe you did bronzeface at H.G.

Pete: Stop saying it like it's a thing.

Claudia: People from the bronze sector do not deserve to be mocked in your incessant quest for validation and frights.

Pete: They are literally criminals.

Abigail: Wow, Pete. I really thought better of you.

Pete: You know what, I'm just going to go take a very long and very hot shower until either the bronzer or my skin comes off. Whichever happens first.

Pete exits.

Claudia, laughing and calling after Pete: Hey, maybe try painting yourself blue tomorrow instead. Pretty sure none of us has ever been Smurfed.

Claudia and Abigail fall into a fit of laughter.

Somewhere between the kitchen and the upstairs bathroom, Pete retrieves his phone from his pocket and says, "Hey Siri?"

She appears.

And Pete whispers into his phone, "What is bronzeface?"

[waevrs]

ʟᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ

Summary: it's been a long and tiring couple of days, and you want nothing more than to be in your lover's arms. 

Warnings: None really, just disgustingly cute fluff.

You had just got off the jet from your mission, blood, sweat and dirt coating your exhausted frame. Your limbs feel heavy, it had been a rough few weeks, nothing seemed to be in your favour. 

The mission was only supposed to be an easy stake out, only one or two days, watch for activity then get out. But one misstep from your team had all the higher ups screaming at you. You got all the blame and it wasn't even your fault, you had no control over who was sent on this mission with you but got all the blame. 

The most inexperienced of the bunch, Matthews, alerted the guys you were watching when he dropped an empty food package off of the roof he was supposed to be keeping watch on. 

This resulted in being chased all around New York City and having to hide out in a dingy little shed in the middle of nowhere with no communication. 

But now you're back in the compound, hoping to just go back to yours and your girlfriend's, Natasha, shared bedroom. But no, seems like the universe is not on your side. Instead of your girlfriend, you're greeted by Nick Fury himself. As if you hadn't already got an earful from Agent Hill, Stark, Ross and whoever else was a higher level clearance than you. 

He told you how the mission should of gone and how you should've been keeping an eye on your team, since you were the leader. You sort of blocked him out, only one word doing laps around your mind: 

Useless. 

That's what Fury called you when he was done with his lecture. Albeit he was frustrated, he had every right to be, his mission was completely ruined. But that wasn't your fault, right?

He stomped away and you stood there, staring into space until a strong pair of arms wrapped around your torso and pulled you into them. The strong smell of vanilla invaded your senses before a soft kiss was pressed to the side of your forehead. 

"Hey krasotka (gorgeous)." She husked, pulling you closer than you already were. 

"Hi." You whispered back, practically melting into her touch. Her hand met your cheek and she turned your head to face her. She looked into your eyes and her emerald ones softened immediately after seeing the bags that had made their home under your eyes.

"Let's go home, yeah?" 

"Okay."

She had driven the both of you home to a small apartment you two brought for when you wanted to get away from the hectic life of the compound. It was small and needed major TLC but it was your home away from home. She opened the battered door for you and closed it behind her. You sighed heavily and slumped on the sofa. She joined you after a minute, wrapping her arms around you and enveloping you in her much needed warmth.

"Wanna talk about it, baby?" She whispered. You whined and buried your head further into her neck. She understood what you meant, she always did. She never pushed you to tell her anything, she knows you'd tell when you were ready. 

So, she held you close until you felt comfortable enough to tell her. 

"Tasha?" You whispered, your voice cracking a little due to the silent crying you had been doing into your lover's neck. 

"Yes, my love?" She ran her hand through your hair softly, gently coaxing you to a safe place. 

"Am I useless?"

The question that had been burning on your mind just flew out and your eyes widened in shock. You couldn't take it back now. 

She grabbed your chin and tilted it upwards to look at her. Her eyes were full of love and endearment, all for you. She made sure you knew that.

"No, my love. You could never be useless to me or to anyone. You're an amazing human being. The things you can do when you put your mind to it are amazing, you're wonderful and I wouldn't have it any other way, milaya (darling)" She spoke with such certainty it almost swayed you. But in the back of your mind loomed the truth, or what you believed was the truth.

"I've never been told that before" You mumbled quietly before burying your head back into the warmth of her neck. 

"I'll tell you that as many times as you need." She raised her hand to run it through your hair as she reassured you sweetly. 

At the end of the day, she'd always be there when your day goes horribly wrong.

[spookyrea]

Something About Us

You're stuck waiting for the bus in a torrential downpour. Conrad offers to keep you company (and later, to warm you up).

(part of a larger series of vignettes about navigating life, love, and monsters with one James Conrad.)

Warnings: none! | read it on AO3 here

You stand under the lab’s narrow awning, watching a tropical storm batter the pavement. The wind carries the rain at an angle, whipping mud puddles into a thick mist that leaves your legs prickling uncomfortably with the cold. You had the forethought to wear a jacket but your umbrella lies inside, useless, at the bottom of a garbage can, decommissioned by a fatal gust earlier this morning.

“Dreadful weather, isn’t it?” A warm voice and an even warmer body joins you under the awning. Whatever James Conrad is doing in the lab is beyond you – he’s not a researcher, nor a tech, so outside of delivering mission reports he has little reason to be on this end of the Monarch campus.

That hasn’t stopped him from becoming a constant in your day-to-day life, though. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Had to get my shots.”

“Right.” It’s a lie – more likely that he’s spent the afternoon being briefed on some top secret reconnaissance endeavour that’s above even your clearance level.

“Are you waiting for the bus?” He curls just that bit closer, his voice calculatedly casual. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of him against your arm, his body half turned so that you are parallel to his underbelly, to the space where his jacket is wide open and vulnerable to the chill. It’s a space just big enough for you to slot in, if you wanted. 

“Yep.” The researchers’ barracks are within walking distance, technically, but they’re at the very edge of the base, farther than any of the other accommodations from the central hub. “Which means I have to sit,” you nod toward the lone bench on the side of the road, “right there.”

The lab door opens; instead of stepping away to let them through, Conrad crowds up into your space, so you’re pressed shoulder-to-chest, leaving just enough room for the janitor to slip by on his way to the barracks. He’s appropriately dressed for the weather, at least, in a raincoat and hat, and heads off in the opposite direction toward the pub.

“I could share,” Conrad says, unfolding his umbrella, “as long as you promise to behave.”

“Behave?”

“Mhm.”

“You ask too much of me,” you say, though you don’t deny yourself the pleasure of looping your arm through his as you start toward the bench.

It’s not a very large umbrella so you both have to huddle to stay under it. In weather such as this, though, it’s nearly useless; the rain seems to come at you from every angle, stirred up by the wind, and the asphalt swims with  a couple inches of water. You regret wearing suede shoes – there’s no way you’ll get these stains out.

“It was a typing day, then?”

“Hmm?”

Conrad nods at your calves, now shiny with rainwater. “You’re wearing a skirt. You don't wear skirts in the lab.”

“Oh.” Something warm thrills in your chest at the knowledge that he’s taken notice. “Yes. Reports to write. Forms to sign. Any excuse to dress up, you know…”

“So the day hasn’t been a complete write off. Since you got to… dress up.”

It’s not necessarily vanity – you just like the feeling of putting yourself together in the morning. Of matching your shoes to your hat, or coordinating your lipstick with your mood. Some of the techs and more than a few of the privates make fun of you for it, jeeringly calling you nicknames like Scientist Barbie or Private Monroe. Even those who are nicer about it have begun calling you ‘ doll’ and, in true military fashion, the nickname is near-permanent.

“I did.” A jeep rolls by and you have to pull your feet back to avoid getting splashed. “And now I’m kind of regretting it.”

“Oh come on, doll. It’s just a bit of rain.”

You don’t mind when Conrad calls you doll. His accent curls it a little, makes it less leering and more affectionate. He gets this look to his eyes, a puppy-dog kind of expression you’re glad hasn’t been carved away by the horrors Monarch subjects you to every day.

“You’re not going out tonight? Weaver thought the two of you would make good money destroying those transplant recruits, the ones from the base off the coast of British Columbia.”

“Not tonight. Figured I would give someone else the chance to win for once.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Thoughtful? No, no – I’m stoic, remember? Rugged. You can’t slander my name like that. I just want to bide my time to make them complacent.”

You laugh; the look Conrad shoots you is unimpressed, his mouth turned down in a pout, but you can see the slightest curl of amusement behind his eyes. “Sorry,” your fingers wander with a mind of their own, pushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead. “It’s just hard to take you seriously when you’re all wet.”

“It’s raining,” he deadpans. “You’re wet. We’re both wet. ‘Wet’ is neutral at this point.”

The wind howls as if summoned, syphoning the rain into the collar of your blouse. Your nylons are soaked through, the hem of your skirt so saturated that it clings to your calves. His shirt is equally wet, slippery under your hand when you lean into his chest to muffle another laugh. Conrad tucks himself closer still, scooting up the bench so that you are half wrapped up in the circle of his arms, as if he means to shield you from the rain with his body instead. His left hand, the one not holding the umbrella, threads through one of yours and draws it under the lapel of his jacket, tight to the space just under his heart.

The bus’s headlights cut through the rain a little ways ahead. A twinge of disappointment stirs in your belly as it approaches. As cold and wet as you are, there is something nice about being this entangled.

Conrad ushers you to your feet under the pretence of keeping you under the umbrella, his hand riding low on your back, just shy of friendly territory. You don’t think it’s intentional, though – you suspect that, like yourself, he is an audience to his own body, watching it respond to yours unconsciously.

The inside of the bus is superheated compared to the weather outside. You’re the only passengers – it’s a weekend, so everyone is probably already in bed or playing pool at the base pub. You lead Conrad to the very back of the bus by his index finger, looped around your pinky. You think it’s too intimate, to try and hold his hand outright, so you settle for this, if only for the excuse to keep touching him.

A cassette tape soothes through the bus’s radio; new records and a decent radio signal are nearly impossible to come by on the base, meaning your only lifeline to pop culture comes in the form of your twice-monthly trips off base and the occasional recon mission abroad. This tape is probably a couple years old; you don’t recognize the voice or melody.

Water pools under the umbrella where it lies between Conrad’s feet, spilling out along the grooves in the bus’s rubber floor. You shift in your seat and Conrad’s knee is quick to follow yours, so he never loses the weight of you against his leg. “I’m dreaming of a hot shower right now,” you sigh. “Dry clothes – what a luxury. When I get back state-side I’m moving to the desert where I’ll never be this damp again.”

“Area 51, then?”

“No. Somewhere completely, utterly boring. Adjunct professor, maybe. University of Arizona.”

“Hmm. I’m not convinced. I give you three months before you’re crawling back to the jungle to take more of those little smears or slices or whatever they’re called.”

“I would be a great professor, thank you very much.”

“Of course you would.” His fingers trail under your sleeve, admiring the skin over your pulse point. “You’d have a full class every semester, I reckon.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Though the demographic might be a little skewed.”

“Ah. Business students looking for an easy grade.”

He laughs. “Not quite. I was thinking something along the lines of teenage boys making excuses to come to your office hours. At least, I would, um… I, well…”

“Oh.” The bus rocks as it eases over a speedbump. Conrad winces, looking a little regretful at his revealing joke. It’s maybe the most blatant he’s ever been with his affections for you. You imagine for a smooth talker like himself, it must be difficult to be tongue-tied.

Taking pity, you try to move on. “The hot shower might be a pipe dream at this point. I’ll be lucky if the water is lukewarm in the barracks.”

His shoulder bumps yours when he sinks backward into his seat. “A perk of being so indispensable: private bathroom.”

“Ugh! I hate you right now. I actually really do.”

“The hot water runs out quickly, if it makes you feel better.”

“Well if you’re only one man, that’s not an issue. Twenty, all in one bunk… The stuff of nightmares.”

Neither of you acknowledges the fact that you work with real, living nightmares on a daily basis. Nightmares with teeth and acid drool. Instead, you trace the side seam of his jeans with your pinky finger.

The bus groan under the weight of the storm outside as the first flash of lightning tears through the sky.

Conrad watches you watch him. An understanding yawns in the narrowing space between you, grown heavy and swollen with a latent charge that needles your skin. Your whole body thrums; for all the discomfort - the tight chest, the hammering heart - you think you'll find relief in him, in his mouth, like a lightning rod. 

“You could always join me,” he says slowly.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “I could.”

“It’s… and after, with two bodies in one bed… much warmer than the barracks.”

“Much.”

“Don’t even need to worry about dry clothes.” His nose brushes your cheek.

“Because we won’t be wearing any.”

“Exactly.”

The bus bounces off a pothole. The two of you collide inelegantly, shoulders and chins bashing, fingers scrabbling in each others’ clothes as you both nearly slide out of your seats. It shocks you both into a proper seated position, backs ramrod straight, eyes forward, your hands tangled in a knot.

You roll to a stop outside of the private quarters – Conrad’s stop. Yours is two more away at the end of the loop. 

“The offer still stands,” he says gruffly, not looking at you. He peels himself off the velour seat slowly, making a show of shaking out his coat.

“Don’t forget your umbrella.”

He waves it away. The spell over you seems to have been broken; there is a significant arch to his shoulders that exudes displeasure. “You’ll need it. It’s a longer walk to the barracks from the bus stop than it is here.”

He climbs off the bus, leaving you reeling and a little lonely. You watch him trudge through the rain toward the private lodging complex where the higher-ranked staff live. Not quite it's own house – closer to a dormitory than anything – but he gets his own room and bed.

It’s a short journey to the next stop, only a couple minutes’ drive, and you spend it stewing. These barracks are for the soldiers and labourers; there’s a gravel path connecting their courtyard to the private quarters’. The lab staff’s housing has no such thing – it was built almost as an afterthought, right against the edge of the bluff.

You descend from the bus and start the walk back toward the private housing.

You find Conrad’s name on the list outside his building and dial him. The intercom rings and rings and rings, so long that you start to get nervous and steel yourself for what is sure to be a dreadful walk back.

His voice is rough, even through the tiny speaker. “Hello?”

“I–” You what? You find yourself at a loss for an answer. “We weren’t done talking.”

“Doll? Jesus, one–” the intercom cuts out. You shuffle your weight from one foot to the other, your hands gone cold and numb.

Conrad is wearing a dry shirt and a pair of gingham-print boxers, and his hair stands up at awkward angles, half-dry already. “Did you walk?”

“Only one stop.”

“Come inside you silly thing.” He corrals you through the front door and down the hall, toward his room. You’re not sure if this housing is co-ed – despite the recent push to allow women equal employment, military organisations (particularly private ones) tend to be quite exclusionary – so you try to keep your voice low, lest you get caught.

“Take your jacket off. Take everything off, actually, you’re going to freeze to death.”

You laugh. Your jacket joins his over the back of a chair – standard issue, plain teakwood beside a matching desk. “I thought that was what the shower was for.”

“Tell me you didn't just come here for a shower.”

“No. I was promised a warm bed, too.”

His eyes soften just the faintest bit. “Ah, yes. Understandable.”

His fingers start on the top button of your blouse, watching your face for any signs of reticence. “Come along, little doll,” he murmurs, drawing you backward toward the ensuite. “Let’s get you warm.”

It only occurs to you that you left his umbrella on the bus the next morning.

[eatingfireflies]

Can you consider Dr Ratio an IPC employee?

Things to consider:

Although Asta says he's from the Intelligentsia Guild when she introduces him, he says he was sent to the Space Station as the IPCs technical advisor

Has clearance to open the case containing the cornerstone, something he says only high level IPC employees have (this could be a lie or the clearance could have been given for this mission specifically but we'll consider it true and not just for Penacony for now)

Was described as the Intelligentsia Guild representative in the Bulletin by Pom-Pom

But the Bulletin also goes on to say

Which one is it then??

My understanding is the Watchmaker sent the IPC an invite and they chose to send Aventurine as their representative. Were they given 2 invitations* and chose to send Dr Ratio along? Or was there only 1 invitation and Dr Ratio is a legendary plus one was sent by the IPC on an all-expenses paid business trip?

* My brain considers this important because Dr Ratio's presence in Penacony is carefully considered so that Aventurine's plan would work. But did he have a Watchmaker's invite? Or did he come in via the IPC who sent someone from a different faction that the Family will accept but just connected enough that you can consider it a kissing cousins kind of thing?

The thing is

Aventurine makes the distinction between the IG members and the IPC, saying that the IG members don't like IPC employees

The Guild pays more, according to Poseman, so at the very least we know there's separate accounting

If Ratio came in via the IPC and no Invite was sent to the Guild (he hasn't mentioned it but honestly it could go either way), the Family considered his Guild connections and not the IPC one. Topaz and Jade weren't allowed in the Dreamscape, but Ratio obviously could come and go as he pleased.

Honestly it seems like it depends on why you're asking. I'd normally say no, but he doesn’t seem to care to make the distinction + if we believe Aventurine about Guild members wanting to keep their distance from the IPC, Ratio is not doing that with his high level IPC access etc. etc.

[b1rds3ye]

Prologue: Half-Convinced (A Coward's Dilemma)

Freshly promoted, you're having doubts with your new responsibilities in the advent of your next mission, but Graves assures you that everything will be okay.

A Coward's Dilemma Masterlist

Pairing: Phillip Graves x GN!Reader (Alias: "Chief")

Genre: Drama, Action, Canon-Compliant, Mutual Pining

Word Count: 1.2k

Warning: Inaccurate military protocols, manipulation from Graves

A/N: This part takes place moments before disaster ACK- (Jokes aside VERY excited to finally put the first part out of this series out!!)

“You’re here early.”

Your head snaps from the console, the blaring screen brightness makes the corners of the control room look even darker. But you can make out the silhouette that lines the door frame, you always can.

“Commander.”

There is a click of the tongue.

“Now what did I tell you about callin’ me by my title when no one else’s around?”

“Phillip,” you correct yourself.

“There we go,” and you can hear the smile in that southern drawl.

Phillip struts up to you as the luminescence of the screen that recaptures your attention covers his figure in a cool, white hue. He always knew how to make an entrance, his presence ever fitting for a commander. Even his silence does the talking, prompting an answer from you without a single word.

“I’m just preparing for the mission. Don’t want anything to go wrong.”

He responds with an understanding hum. In an hour your men will be deployed to make the trek across Al-Mazrah to give supplies to American allies. Said supplies being three illegal missiles. Completely off the book, not even the men forced into cargo trucks knew what they were carrying. It was hard giving your Shadows the dossiers that felt unnecessarily heavy, lying through gritted teeth that it was a simple supply run. You hated how they nodded and accepted without question. You knew them, you knew they’d complain to you if they had doubts. But no, they trust you, the one who has been fighting alongside them for months.

There’s a gentle pressure on your shoulders where Philip lays his hands. Firm and grounding, he must be applying an impossible amount of pressure for you to feel it through your tactical vest. His fingers pressing into your shoulder blades providing an impromptu massage that has you keening as he eases the tension in your taut muscles. You will yourself to relax but your instincts vehemently disagree, resisting his gentle coaxes to relax.

“Talk to me,” he ushers, voice only another layer with the hum of electronics around you.

“Are we doing the right thing?”

It’s a stupid question, the instant your mouth formed those syllables you were cringing at yourself. You’re in a damn private military company, the whole point of it was to do dirty work. But dirty work could still be altruistic, right? Your company exists for a reason after all. The military’s secret; as generals hide behind polished desks with their gin and tonics, you are on the field to do what they never had the guts to. That’s what Phillip said and what Shepherd praised you on and you had to give it to the general, at least he was self aware.

“‘Course we are,” he says.

You nod in acknowledgement but mentally you’re only reciting the mission objectives on the screen and it is overwhelming how much more text is on the screen with your heightened level of clearance. You should be out there, you usually are. Out there on the roads, guiding your men and protecting the cargo. You know the truth, you know how perilous this mission is, one of only three who’ve seen the screen in front of you.

“I get it, it’s your first rodeo as my second.”

Phillip pulls out a seat and sits beside you. He lets his clothed thigh brush against yours and when you don’t even flinch he settles even closer into your personal space. You let your mind wander, the words on the screen becoming blurs of smudged light that dot your sight.

“Do you often have… ‘rodeos’ like these?”

“All the time,” he replies simply and your mind sinks even deeper. Even in your time during Shadow Company, how much information have you been missing out on due to your lower rank? A simple lackey who only saw text blotted out with pitch black ink before said documents burning into ashes in the next base clean up. Manila folders only passed around you, never to you. The word “confidential” stamped on the corners of pages were so frequent you could probably draw the brand with your eyes closed.

“But think of the bigger picture,” he pulls your mind back to the present as he leans closer to you, making your world smaller, closing the scope until there’s only the two of you in a small room. Despite the air conditioning, the small gap of air between you is warm.

“You’re my second now. We’re closer than ever.”

That much was clear, wisps of his breath caressing your skin. You don’t know how Phillip does it, how he manages to transport you out of base and make you feel you’re back home again. Or perhaps more like a teenage drama, secretly rendezvousing with a lover. Even on the edge of changing the course of the war, the shine in his eyes takes you back to a simpler time where you only had to fret about broken hearts instead of broken bodies. His gloved hand settles on your cheek, the worn leather on his thumb is soothing as he rubs it into your skin.

“No more secrets between us.”

It's an overwhelming truth and you pull away, escaping Phillip's hold. There’s a slight furrow in his eyebrows, his outstretched hand that used to hold onto you tenses. A slight twitch, an instinctive grab but he only ensnares air.

“I guess I’m just used to being on the field,” you admit defeatedly and Phillip lounges back in his seat with a small shrug.

“I get that, but you’re more important now. You’re their eyes from above, like an angel.”

“Don’t say that.”

“A guardian angel,” he continues and you shoot him a look. He chuckles for a moment before reaching forward once again, fingers brushing against your cheek to ease your anxious frown.

“Y’might be promoted but I’m still your commander. And as my second, you’re keepin’ me in check but I call the shots and those shots are on me.”

You can feel his gaze on you all the while, burning with intensity. Phillip certainly knew how to sweeten up a deal. The professional relationship you had was one sided, he doesn’t owe you any justifications, not his time, nor your safety, nothing as your commander. If he so wished, he could completely disregard your existence. And yet, here you are, letting soldier and… whatever the two of you are bleed over each other. Spouting out reasons and responsibilities that can’t be finalised on paper, asking for resources that weren’t agreed upon on your contract.

"I want you to be on my side, want you to agree with me," he admits. "Trust me."

But Phillip already had your trust, at least technically when you signed your life away to Shadow Company. And yet here he is, asking for something deeper, the trust that can never be bought. The trust that’s always sold as a complex bundle of other emotions that were far too vulnerable for you to admit. It’s risky business, but you find yourself nodding numbly all the same.

A Coward's Dilemma Masterlist

Call of Duty Masterlist

[rmoonstoner]

I Can't Wait For You

***

Pairing:

Doctor Stephen Strange x Mystic!fem!reader

***

Warnings:

18+, p in v sex, cream pie, bit of angst, reader getting high on alien booze (some might consider it sort of dubious consent while high but I am a pot smoker, and I feel I can consent to sex while stoned), biting, sweet and considerate Stephen. 

***

Summary:

You're about to become an official member of the Avengers. 

As part of your training, the founding members of the team have requested that you have to learn something from each of them, and then gain each member's approval first, but there's just one problem with your plans…

Doctor Stephen Strange. 

He seemed to be hellbent on avoiding you, when all you needed is his approval to join the Avengers as a full-time member. If he doesn't approve of you soon, you'd have to wait half a year, after returning from a trip across the cosmos with the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Will he let you join the team? Or will you just give up and leave with the Guardians?

***

You weren't exactly sure when this all started, but you were more than happy for the distraction. You had started going out on missions with the intention of helping the weak and defenseless, and so far, it had been going quite well. You did small things, like stopping robbers and saving people from wreckages. You moved up the ladder quickly, effectively gaining the respect of the more well-known heroes around the city.

You didn't do it for the fame, or their recognition. You did it, because criminals had taken your family away from you, and you wanted to help others, others that needed it the most. You did it, because you felt like you owed it to your family.

All of your hard work got you right up to the Avengers level, and now you spent almost all of your time helping in any way that you could. You asked each major member of the team to teach you something new, and to show you how they worked so you'd be better prepared to work with them when the time came.

Each member had something wildly different to teach you, and with each new thing, you would thank them for their time and dedication to the team. It wasn't until you got to the end of the list, the only person that you hadn't really met for more than a minute here and there, was the Sorcerer Supreme, Doctor Stephen Strange.

He was always busy, and never available. It was annoying, because you were a Mystic, and you needed his clearance to join the team officially.

You had put in seventeen separate applications to have an audience with him. Seven of them were straight up denied, no reason given, other than it was inconvenient for him, while the rest were confirmed appointments that he never showed up for.

No call.

No show.

Not a single other member of the team would give you answers, aside from the common consensus that Strange did not like dealing with people. He did not like teaching, and he certainly did not like being called away from his precious Sanctum to help the Avengers. You had been told he was impatient and full of himself.

But that didn't stop you from trying to check him off your list. You had gone through every other member, and you were determined to learn something from this man. Something other than he was nearly impossible to reach if it wasn't a cataclysmic event occurring.

Or how frustratingly sexy he was when he scowled at you. How he would fidget with his shaking hands, looking like he wanted to strangle you…

God those hands…

Tony gave you some sound advice, and gave you the address of the Sanctum, telling you to just show up there and confront the man yourself. You took his advice and now here you were, standing in front of the door, pounding on it as you waited for a response.

You didn't have to wait long, as the doors opened wide to let you in. You walked inside, marching straight towards the library. Peter had told you that Stephen was usually in there, or his office, and that's where you were hoping to corner the man.

You got inside, seeing no sign of anyone as you wandered the aisles. Eventually you came to a door that was open just a crack, seeing a flash of orange light, and his blue red clothing inside. You went and opened the door, knocking a few times and watched as he spun around to see you. Whatever spell he had going on had fizzled away, the orange glow dimming the room.

He did not look happy.

"What are you doing here? I don't have time for your little bonding exercises. I'm trying to sew up tears in the Multiverse." He moved towards you and grabbed your arm. You stared at him as he tried to tug you out of his office, but you didn't budge.

"Tony said you fixed them already. He says you're avoiding me." You said firmly and glared up at him.

"Ugh, that ass. Fine. I'm avoiding you." He let go and turned away, arms crossed as he leaned against his desk, scowling at you.

"Why? You agreed to do a one on one training session with me. I did one with everyone else, and you're the last one on my list. Tony and Wanda said that I can't join the team, unless I get your approval."

"Why my approval? Wanda is the other Mystic. She should be looking after it, not me."

"Wanda is still upset over Vision being gone. She's not in the right headspace to help me out and she said you need to pick up the slack with the new members who can use magic." You made a few good points and he sighed while rubbing his face. He still wasn't bothering to look you in the eye.

"Can't it wait a few more days?" He said, his hands going to rearrange his desk needlessly, probably to keep himself from looking at you.

You weren't having it.

You were pissed.

He gave everyone else a hard time, but he at least talked to them, answered their messages or calls. He avoided you since the first day you met, and he constantly acted like he was in a hurry after missions, leaving before you could get to him to ask about seeing him for a session. He almost looked like he couldn't stand you.

Even texting him or emailing him got you nowhere. You tried using magic to reach him, but he always had a shield up over himself so it would never go through. You just wanted his approval, so you could go about your day without having to constantly ask the rest of the team for every decision you needed to make.

"Why? I'm due to leave with Quill in three days. I will be gone for a few months. Please?" You took a few steps closer as you talked. He was quiet for a long time, fidgeting with the tassels on his bracers. You inhaled sharply through your nose when he still didn't reply.

"Oh, come on, doctor! I want to get this over with. Please? I really do not know what I did. I know that you can't stand me, but I'm a good team member. Anything the others ask of me, I do it. I don't cause trouble, and I have been making sure I use my magic responsibly."

"It's… It's not that. Your magic use and skills have been above and beyond."

"Then what is it, doctor? Is it because I'm not really a sorcerer, nor a witch? I'm just some freakish thing in between?"

"Fuck, no! That's not it either. Your wild magic does confuse me, but I don't think it makes you any less of a Mystic."

"Well, the only thing I can think of is my age, and the fact that I am a woman."

"No! Your age and being a woman doesn't matter to me."

"Okay, well whatever it is, can we move past it? Please? I know you hate me, but I promise I'll leave you alone, and never bother you again, if you would just approve my paperwork? " You pleaded for an answer from him, and he huffed, looking down at his boots.

"Please don't do that. I don't hate you." He finally replied, his voice low and calm.

"It sure feels like it. You have been avoiding me, and I want to know why?"

Stephen refused to look at you. He kept fiddling with his hands, specifically his rings, and he huffed as he motioned for you to come sit down in his office. You nodded and took a seat in one of the comfy leather chairs, while he sat down in another beside you. He leaned forward, hands still not able to stay still as they picked at his tunic. They were shaking far more than they usually did.

"Look… I don't hate you. It's quite the opposite." He admitted while finally looking you in the eye. He looked afraid, anxious, and unsure of himself.

It was the only time you had ever seen his hard exterior crack, showing you a real man underneath.

"What does that mean?" You asked.

"It means… I like you. I've liked you since that day you came busting in through the doors at one of Tony's parties. You came in and happily made friends with everyone around you. When you asked me to give you some one on one training, I stupidly accepted without any game plan… Then I… I didn't know what to do… What to say… Um… I felt like you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, and you made me dumb and unable to say shit about it. Every time I saw you coming at me after a mission… I felt like I might act like a moron in your presence. I'm not… I'm not used to that feeling. Being… Stunned like that."

"Wait, wait, wait… You're saying you're… Into me?"

"Yeah…"

"Oh…"

"I understand if that makes you uncomfortable-"

"No. No, it doesn't."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Uh… So… Now what?"

"I can think of something…" You purred as you got up and out of your chair. You stood in front of him, leaning down and placing each hand onto either side of his shoulders. He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly as his eyes darted down to your chest and back up again.

"What would that be?" He asked, voice cracking as he watched you slowly run your hand down the front of your tunic. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted in his seat.

"Show me what that dick can do." You rasped as you undid your uniform and shucked off the top. He groaned, hands going up to grab you and tug you into his lap. You thought he might go for your breasts, first, but he brought you down, hands going to the back of your neck and your hip, his eyes gazing into yours.

"I will, but first… I want to kiss you." He rasped and leaned in, forehead resting against yours as he caught your mouth with his. He kissed you hard, his hands going to tug up your skirts, palms meeting the warm and bare skin of your thighs.

You groaned back and threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him as you rocked your hips, rolling against his hard cock through his pants. Stephen's hand on your neck tightened up, and it slid up into your hair, pulling and tugging your head to face the ceiling. He kissed his way down your neck, sucking and biting marks into your skin as you moaned loudly for him. He seemed to enjoy the way you touched him, with him getting a little louder, growling and pae8ng at you like he was desperate. 

"Get these pants off. I want to feel you inside me." You hissed at him, and he was happy to oblige. In an instant, he had his pants at his knees, without moving you an inch.

"Is this good enough?" His voice was deep and husky, both hands finally getting to your ass. You moaned for him, nodding as he licked up your neck. He grunted when he couldn't find any underwear on you.

"No panties?"

"Not tonight…"

"You did this on purpose?"

"Yeah… Just for you."

"That's fucking hot."

Stephen's voice rumbled into your ear. You felt him kiss and suck another mark into your neck as you ground yourself against him.

"God… Don't tease me. Let me in." The doctor's hand came down to slip a few fingers between your folds, his thumb stopping at your clit and hovering over it.

"I'm trying, but someone plugged the hole with their fingers- Oh, ooohhh…" You sassed back, then moaned as he plunged his fingers in, thumb pressing against your clit. His fingers moved, dipping in and out slowly  moving and picking up speed rapidly. Your mouth hung open as you got wetter and wetter for him.

Your thighs shook as he pushed his long digits in nice and deep, the pads of his fingers rubbing and pushing until he found that spongy mass of nerves. You lurched forward, head resting on his shoulder as you panted at how well he was pleasing you.

"Okay, I think you're ready." Stephen whispered, and in an instant, he had you pinned to the heavy and low sitting coffee table, both of your ankles in his hands as he stood over you. The sudden change in position had you squirming in anticipation.

"Please?" You whimpered lightly, feeling him rock forward as he slid himself along your wet seam.

"Yeah… I've wanted to do this with you since the moment I laid eyes on you…" Stephen whispered as his cock slowly pushed inside of your quivering hole.

"Oh fuck…" You gasped, feeling him stretch you while he pushed in nice and slow. Once he was fully seated in your wet heat, he stayed still, eyes looking down at you as you tried to breathe.

"You okay? I can stop if you need me to." Stephen's voice was soft and kind as he waited for an answer. You looked at him from this compromising position and laughed, which made him grunt as you drew his head in close and whispered in his ear.

"I am. Please… Fuck me and don't you dare stop."

Stephen growled and kissed you, his hips beginning to draw back, before pushing in again. He rolled his hips and got a good rhythm, finding your body twisting, back arching when he found just the right spot. You keened for him as he smoothed his hands up your legs and he hoisted them over his shoulders. He ran his hands to your ass, pulling your hips up and pushing deeper into you.

"Stephen-"

You felt the air rush from your lungs as he started to go much harder. His hips were pistoning, skin slapping against skin. You yelped with each heavy slam, feeling the blunt end of his cock hitting your gspot perfectly. Stephen grunted as he pushed your legs against your chest, one arm by your head, the other holding your waist as he fucked into you hard and fast. He stared at your face, watching it contort into a look of sheer ecstasy.

"Fuck, baby… Come for me…"

Stephen hummed as he angled his hips a bit better and shifted you just enough to get some much needed friction from his pelvis rubbing against yours.

You looked at his face, seeing his brows furrowed, pupils blown wide, mouth hanging open, and his nose slightly crinkled as he licked his lips. The way he looked at you now, threw you off the edge, and you felt every muscle in your body clench and flex tightly. You let out a loud moan as you shook, with Stephen groaning as he slowed his thrusts, but he didn't stop.

"That's it, just like that, sweetheart… So pretty when you come undone…" He purred and pulled your legs from his shoulders, letting them drop to his waist as he leaned in and kissed you, his tongue licking yours, teeth nipping your lip, jaw, then your neck.

One of hands found yours and he clasped your fingers together with his. He shifted, slowly increasing his pace as your arm looped around his neck. You kissed him again, feeling him twitch and pulse inside you.

"Don't stop…" You gasped, feeling him falter as he grunted and went a bit harder and faster.

"But I am so close… Gonna come…" Stephen whined as his face twisted into that look of almost being at his breaking point.

"Please, just a little more…" You whispered while grabbing his face, pleading with him to keep going. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his backside and keeping him from pulling out.

"But…" He gasped, fighting to keep himself from coming. You felt the last string snap, and you moaned loudly, muttering into his ear softly.

"Oh God, yes… Fill me… St-stephen…"

You held onto him tightly, hearing him whimper as he pushed in one last time and came. His mouth clamped onto your neck, teeth digging in as you came again, feeling him pulse as he emptied himself within you.

He stayed like that for a while. His elbows kept himself up, while his cloak kept him from crushing you. You sighed and brought his face to look at you, and gave you a dopey grin.

"So… How was that?" He asked with a shaking breath.

"Good. It was very good." You breathed hotly and kissed his cheek a few times.

"Just good? Fuck. I need to up my game." He murmured back, kissing your lips and nibbling on the lower one.

"Next time." You sighed sweetly, fingers causing through his hair. He raised his head and gave you an adorable hopeful look.

"You want a next time?"

"Yes."

"You said you'd be back in six months?" He asked, his mouth still nipping your skin gently.

"Yeah…" You quietly replied.

"Do… Do you want to… Uh…" Stephen stumbled over his words. You could plainly tell that he wanted to see you again. You placed a hand to his, and shushed him.

"Will you wait for me, Stephen?" You asked, and his face lit up, eyes sparkling. 

"Yes. Yes, I'll wait for you."

***

You were going over the ship's supply inventory, making sure you would have everything you and the other Guardians would need on this long trip. You weren't sure how long you'd be with them, since Quill said he had multiple stops to make on this journey. He claimed it would be no more than six months, but you dreaded the time and distance it would put between you and Stephen.

And you didn't have any way to get back to him until the mission was complete. You weren't a witch, and didn't know how to teleport like Wanda. You didn't have a Sling ring to call forth those orange portals that Stephen could produce. You were at the mercy of Quill's ship, and Rocket's mechanical skills to keep you going and bring you home.

The thought of how lonely it was going to be, made your heart ache. It hurt even more, knowing Stephen was unable to come and see you off. You knew it wasn't his fault. Wanda was having a meltdown in some suburban city, and Stephen was making sure she didn't cause any more tears in reality while some of the team were treating her depression. You wanted to stay and help, but Cap, Tony, and Fury were adamant you should go with the Guardians. 

They needed another Mystic, and you were all the Avengers had to give at the moment. You were one of the few that got along with Quill's crew, and didn't take any shit from the captain.

"Hey, look. I know we're gonna be gone for half a year, but cheer up. Everyone likes you on my ship, and no one is gonna mess with an Avenger." Peter said as he patted your back. You could hear his music blaring from his ear buds. 

"Ya got that right, Quill. Plus the wizard likes her. I don't wanna mess with him." Rocket piped up as he slid out from under a control panel on the other side of the room. He was covered in oil and metal shavings.

"Yeah, how's that going by the way? Isn't he kind of old for you?" Peter asked while leaning against a few crates.

"You're just jealous I turned you down." You sassed him with a teasing grin.

"Duh. I'm way hotter than him."

"While I won't deny you are attractive… Stephen's much more attractive to me. He's also very smart. I like smart men."

"Hey, you're calling me dumb, aren't you?" He pouted while Rocket laughed at him.

"Yes. Yes, I am. Now beat it. I gotta get the rest of this inventory done, and then give our engineer a bath."

"Okay, okay." Peter muttered while Rocket tried to sneak out of the room and avoid being bathed like a purse dog.

***

Three weeks had passed and finally you were getting off at a small planet the next system over. Everyone was happy to go get drinks, and you tagged along, hoping for a bit of a serotonin boost. The night dragged on for hours, and you felt like you were being watched for most of it.

Quill started acting up and hitting on any one that looked compatible sexually. Drax started to sing at the top of his lungs, while Mantis was a giggling mess and hung off of him. Nebula looked like she was having fun for once, playing a game of stones with Rocket and Groot.

You smiled at them. They all acted like family, and you felt a little left out. It wasn't their fault that you had been closed off for the past week.

You missed Stephen.

You wondered what could have been, if you had stayed behind. Would he be a date kind of guy? Maybe he didn't want his fellow heroes to know what had happened when you showed up? Only Tony seemed to have a clue of what transpired that day.

You checked your comms watch and sighed. Still no response from the doctor. You had sent him multiple messages the past three weeks, but he hadn't replied at all. You hoped Wanda wasn't giving him a hard time. Maybe he wasn't getting the messages, because he was busy…

You didn't want to think about the possibility that he was back to ignoring you again after he got what he wanted out of you.

You finally excused yourself to go back to the ship, finding your loneliness wasn't getting any better with how stoned you were feeling. You weren't drunk, but you were super stoned on whatever weird concoction you had been drinking from the bar. Quill said it was the only option that wouldn't leave you with a bad hangover the next morning. You found the calming effects of the stuff was nice, and you were happy to wander the streets of the city you were in.

"Shouldn't you be traveling with a crew member?" A familiar voice broke the silence of the nearly empty city street. You turned to see Stephen standing in an alleyway, a cloth bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

"Stephen! What are you doing here?"

"I missed you, so I figured, why not visit you? It's not like I can't." He sounded a bit shy, like maybe he had made a mistake. You smiled and went up to him, giving him a big hug.

"Thank you. You have to teach me how to use those rings. Then I could just leave when Quill is being a doofus."

"I could do that, though I'll have to explain why I need another Sling ring."

"Who do you need to tell? You're the big boss."

"Haha… True. Come on, let me get you back to the ship, and I'll show you the stuff I brought you."

***

The stuff was forgotten the moment you got into your room. Stephen had slammed you against the wall, all teeth and tongue as you tugged on his hair and his tunic. He got you into bed, and banished every bit of clothing you both were wearing. Things got heated so fast, you end up on all fours, with him shoving your face down into the mattress, his hips slapping away against yours as you screamed for him.

***

"What the fuck is going on in there?" Rocket was disturbed at the sounds he was hearing. He had just gotten back to the ship with Groot, and the noises were concerning the little furry man. His room was right next door to yours, and you had always been quiet, even when on the communications comms to talk to people back on Earth, but tonight, all he was hearing were animalistic noises.

"I am Groot." Groot said while holding up his hands and making crude gestures. Rocket smacked his hands away and scrambled up to sit on the tree man's shoulders, pressing his ear to the side of the wall.

"No shit. I'm not an idiot. I know she's banging someone in there." He his back quietly.

"I. Am. Groot." Groot slowly pulled Rocket away from the wall and put him back down on the floor.

"Whaddya mean it's none of my business? It sounds like she's dying in there."

"I am Groot. I am Groot. Groooot."

"Fuck off. It's not Nebula in there with her."

"I am groot?"

"She'd stab Quill if he even thought about doing that to her."

"Groot… I am groot."

"Naw, can't be. He's a whole system over and-"

"Oh, fuck me! Stephen! Harder!"

"Uhhh… Well, that… That answers our question."

"Groot!"

***

"Fuck that was amazing. I thought I would have to wait a half a year to see you again. Or worse, you realizing you could get better while I was gone."

"Nope. I couldn't stand the thought of having to wait. I'm not going to get any better than you. Don't need it. Besides… I can come to see you any time." Stephen said while stroking your side and kissing your shoulder.

"How did you even know where I was? Did you use the Cauldron?"

"Cauldron of the Cosmos? Nope."

"Then how?"

"Don't get mad… But I put a tracking symbol on your back the last time I saw you."

"What? Where? I haven't seen anything…"

Stephen chuckled and ran his fingers lightly to the small of your back. He traced the symbol on your skin that he placed there.

"Stephen Strange… Did you put a magic tramp stamp on my back?"

"I guess you could call it that." He hummed and brought up a viewing orb, showing you exactly what he wrote. You scowled when you noticed he had included his initials in with the sigil.

"Jesus… That's not fair. You get to know where I am at all times…"

"Hey, I'm stuck back on Earth while you're gone. I have to deal with Tony and the others, until you get back. Tony is mad at me that I let you leave."

"Pffft. He shouldn't be mad. He sent me on this mission. I wish I could be at home with you. Anything is better than listening to Quill talk about bad old movies and TV shows. Say… What did you bring me?"

"Snacks, drinks, one of my sweaters, and a spell book. The spell book is personally written by me, and it's a detailed collection of directions for my favorite spells. Warnings are clearly labeled in red at the beginning and end of each spell."

"Oh, you didn't have to…"

"Sure I did. Peter told me your favorite chocolate and candy brands. I got some of those, and then a bunch of those powdered drink packets. We all know the military rations on board are shit."

"You're so sweet… Thank you…"

"Oh, and this…" Stephen held up a ring like his and handed it to you.

"Oh… Thank you."

"There are instructions on how to use that in the book. I want you to practice how to do it. I want you to be able to get off this ship, in case you need to. Get good at it, so you can use it to save others as well. You can always have it open at the Sanctum, no matter how far away you physically are. Whether you're in need, or just want to see me. Okay?"

"Thank you. I'll start practicing tomorrow."

"That's my girl."

***

The next morning you woke up feeling well rested and very sore. Stephen was long gone, the spot on the bed where he slept was now cold. You got ready for the day and came out of your room, going to start making breakfast for everyone in the kitchen. Rocket was sitting at his chair, and Groot was standing in the corner beside him. They were snickering and whispering to each other.

"What's so funny, you two?" You asked while frying up some eggs and tofu protein bricks.

"Did your wizard come for a visit last night?" Rocket asked while giving you the knowing side eye.

"Uh… Yeah. Stephen came by and gave me a bag of treats, why?"

"I am Groot. I am Groot. GrooOooOoot!" Groot wiggled his brows and grinned at you. You rolled your eyes.

"That's enough of your potty mouth, Groot." You pointed at Groot and he laughed and snickered as Quill came over.

"Ohhh, ho, ho! So it was a booty call, hm?" Quill pulled up a chair and leaned on the back of it while whistling.

"Shut up. He said he missed me." You felt your face heat up and you switched the eggs over to fry up some sort of grain that looked like rice and oatmeal combined.

"Doctor Strange, missing someone? Now I've heard everything." Nebula stated as she gave you a twisted little smile.

"By the way. You're nasty." She said, and Mantis giggled as she leaned forward.

"Did he make you see stars?" Mantis asked, her bright smile looking mischievous.

Okay. The jig was up. These rabid beasts wanted something juicy to hear.

"Oh… Yes. He's very good with that big mouth of his." You grinned and sat down next to her while chopping up some sad looking green onion paste to put in the mixture.

"Ew, gross. I don't wanna hear about Gandalf dicking you down." Quill made a face and turned his nose up playfully. He didn't really mean to sound so rude, but he couldn't help himself. You slapped his arm and snorted.

"Shut up, Quill. He's very satisfying. You're just mad I won't sleep with you."

"I'm not mad. I'm mad jealous. What's he got that I don't?"

"His fingers are way longer than yours, for starters." You snickered and he scowled.

"Ugh. And what else?"

"He doesn't talk nearly as much as you. Oh, and… Sex magic." You said bluntly while wiggling your brows at him. His eyes went wide.

"Do I even wanna know?"

"Probably, knowing you. Just know I can have three dicks in me at the same time, and it's all him." You said with a wide smirk. Peter choked on his protein shake and wheezed for air as Mantis and Nebula snickered to each other. Rocket and Groot stared, jaws slack, while Drax simply smiled and calmly spoke.

"I say good for you and the wizard. Maybe you'll both stop being such mean bitches now, and Quill can finally realize he's never getting your sweet, sweet, magic pussy."

***

Note:

I ate six high dose brownies over the course of three days. This is what you get.

[meetmyothersouls]

If your requests are open could I request a scenario where reader gets a bad grade on a final and is very sad because they worked really hard all term only to bomb the final exam 😢 ….asking for a friend lol 👀

Here ya go <3

Failure

Warnings: high school Timmy x first person reader, mentions of making out, failing a final, language, little bit of angst

I drove us back to my apartment, after school like I did every other day. Only this day, my jaw was tight and I white-knuckled the steering wheel. Being a grade ahead of Timothee, a year older and completely estranged from my parents, I got my own place my senior year at La Guardia. I could feel Timothee staring at me from the moment we got into my car, brewing a question, waiting for the right moment.

"Geez, y/n, I think if you grit your teeth any harder, they'll crack in half. What's going on?" Timothee finally asked.

"Nothing," I answered back too quickly.

A thick silence filled the car. Timothee drummed a beat with his fingertips on his knees and then sighed. "So, what'd you get on the chem exam?"

"I fucking failed it, okay!?" I yelled, just as I pulled into my designated parking space. "I failed it," I said quieter. I threw my seat belt off of me, the metal latch hitting the window as I trudged up to my apartment. I didn't wait for Timothee, knowing he'd follow me. I left the door open for him and laid face down on my futon I got on clearance at Target.

I heard my front door shut followed by the feeling of the futon dipping down under Timothee's weight. I groaned, as I let the tears I'd been holding back finally brim over my eyes and soak into the ugly brown fabric. Timothee slid his hand under my shirt and rubbed what I assumed were meant to be soothing circles on my lower back.

"So you failed it? Big deal, there's always the retake," he said softly.

I turned over, Timothee's hand staying put, sliding to my stomach as I now laid on my back. "Yeah, but I...ugh fuck, I don't fail! EVER! And we studied every night for like three weeks! What the fuck!"

"I mean...we weren't studying the entire time..." Timothee said, a smirk forming on his face.

"Shut up, Timmy!" I groaned, pulling a throw pillow over my face to cover my smile. I was supposed to me upset!

"If it makes you feel any better," Timothee said, "I failed too."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Like...failed failed or just kinda failed?"

"I wasn't aware there were levels," Timothee said, unzipping his backpack and pulling the crumpled-up paper out of the front pocket. How he managed to find anything in a backpack filled with various papers and materials from the entire course of the semester, I wasn't sure. "I got a 29. I'd say that's bottom of the totem pole."

"I got a 29 too," I said, feeling a little bit better that I had someone to commiserate with.

"The retakes next week, think we'll be able to bring it up to a D?" I asked.

"Yeah, if you can stop making out with me and actually study."

I threw my pillow at him, "Pretty sure you're the one that starts every make out, but okay."

"Am not!" Timothee said, already crawling over to me to start just that.

If passing meant not making out with Timothee...it probably wasn't going to happen.

Tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

[eruisapenguin]

Pataphysics Department AU

(SCP Foundation x Researcher!MC)

Sucks to be MC, huh.

CW: Reference for suicide

—————————

It was fuzzy, the memories, you couldn't remember clearly what had happened; painfully mundane it seemed, before. Then all light dimmed, edges stained with darkness. You thought you were fainting, that's fine, you were probably overexerting yourself like usual.

Then you find yourself restricted from receiving air, all oxygen taken away, panic immediately floods you. Were you being kidnapped after all?!

You tried to trash around—yet no muscle moved even an inch, paralyzed and suffocated…you wished to scream; for the whole world to listen. But you can't, you are stuck in a nightmare.

Help, please, somebody….anybody...you can't die now…you have so much to live for! Is this really the end? You don't want to die…

There's something…finally at last! Something other than an everlasting void…

It was spiral

Stretching and pulling before you.

You cannot breathe.

Your body jolted awake, trembling hand wrapped around an object—you can feel a cool metal pressed against your temple—to your shock it was a gun, what the fuck!? You threw it away, the gun clattered to silence below on the ceramic floor. What were you doing just now! Why do you have a gun, you don't remember owning one—and where the hell are you?!

It was an office, colored in white enough to drive a man insane. There are many scattered papers in front of you, on the desk. Is it your desk? Among other walls of printed text one caught your eye, a very familiar view since ever your brain rot over scp: containment breach.

The spiral gestalt.

Now hold on a fucking second—

—

So, from what you can gather. Your other universe's y/n is a researcher of the goddamned SCP Foundation, somehow they got a hold on D-9341—Dr. Walker’s spiral gestalt thingy and tried it on themself. Which had worked; almost entirely or not as what other y/n’s prediction.

Heck you don't even know what they intended to do with it, communicating? Save and load power?

Whatever it is, it's a mystery to you. But first, you need to get rid evidences of the experiment ever happening. You're not sure if you're even authorized to do this—hell D-9341 got demoted for it, you absolutely do not want to be a D-class or terminated.

…

Holy shit, could other y/n br a villain in making?

—

The paper was filled with ink, it was your own handwriting. Black, white, black, white, gray. Rather than the standard scp font you forgot the name of. It appeared to be quite obsessively written, the madness present even through the text. Yep, definitely a villain.

You sighed, putting it inside a paper shredder, then drenched the ruins with water inside a trash can. Now nobody will ever look twice at it. Your nose twitched at the smell of smudges of ink against your fingers.

Your other’s ID card hangs from your neck. Giving it a good look for once; the photo stares back with dead eyes, taunting. Name, age, birth year; all the same as yours.

Pataphysics department. Level three clearance, senior researcher.

How fun.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

"You really think you're going without me? Not going to happen."

@summer-of-bad-batch week 4 alt prompt

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Omega, Lyana Hazard Set directly after the S3 epilogue Word Count: ~720 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: Omega departs Pabu with an unexpected passenger

Omega guided the ship carefully out of the beach-side cove, proximity sensors flashing an urgent warning but their sirens silenced. She knew exactly how much clearance she had without scraping the wing-tips on the cave mouth, what altitude she needed to occupy – just barely above the lapping waves – to avoid scraping the top of the ship of the rocky ceiling.

Then she was out and moonlight streamed into the cockpit, flaring in a bluish gleam through the cracked glass of the goggles on the dashboard. She smiled to herself, sorrow and anticipation forming an unsettling partnership inside her gut.

She wouldn’t look back. She had said her goodbyes.

Instead she gunned the engines, sending her small ship speeding out over the water before pulling up into a steep ascent, heading for the edge of the atmosphere.

Below, Pabu shrunk away against the ocean, receding to a bright spark of warm yellow light against the black and moon-crested waves.

Her home of so many years – the haven amongst the ocean that they had chosen for themselves – she would miss it.

But not as much as she would miss this adventure, if she didn’t go on it now.

After all, she wouldn’t be alone. She knew so many of the clones already fighting in the rebellion, and the other peoples too. She was ready to be one of them; now was the time to lend her presence, her flying and fighting skills, to those men and women already pushing back against the empire.

As the ship buffeted through the upper atmosphere and into the vacuum of space, she heard a soft scrape.

The unexpected noise was hardly enough to make her panic. She was too well-trained for that. Half a lifetime with her brothers had taught her how to take care of herself. She leaned forwards as though reaching for a button on the control panel, but the crease of her body let her reach for the blaster affixed under the pilot’s column.

Omega stretched her hearing to its limit as she curled her fingers around the blaster. Putting the faintest pressure on the trigger, she carefully drew the gun into her lap as she straightened. She may lack Hunter’s enhanced senses but her instincts were good, and she listened patiently as the intruder extricated themselves from their hiding place.

A quiet thunk, a muffled curse, and Omega span to her feet, blaster aimed at chest level.

Lyana grinned sheepishly, raising her hands in surrender even as she ducked to avoid Omega’s aim.

“Only me!” she offered apologetically, her voice chiming with amusement as Omega’s brown eyes went wide.

Confusion, then concern, flickered across Omega’s face, before both were swept away by a dazzling smile which lit her face from ear to ear.

“You!” she squealed, rushing forwards and grabbing Lyana under her armpits. Lyana groaned a complaint as the blaster still in Omega’s hand dug into her side, but Omega was lifting her and spinning her and she laughed gaily before dropping back to her toes, linking both arms around Omega’s neck and pulling her in to a playful kiss.

“You really think you’re going without me?” she teased as they broke apart, keeping her forehead pressed close to Omega’s. “Not going to happen!”

“How did you get here?” asked Omega, dropping the hand with the blaster to her side, lifting the other to stroke a hand over Lyana’s neck to the soft curls at her nape. She hadn’t stopped smiling. “I was with Hunter. How did you sneak past us?”

Lyana chuckled, peppering Omega’s brow with kisses. “I’ve been hiding in here for hours,” she confessed, a guilty grin accompanying her words. “When Hunter showed up, I was sure he would realise…” She ducked her head to peer seriously into Omega’s eyes. “You’re not mad?”

Omega didn’t answer, other than to take Lyana’s hand and tug her gently towards the pilot’s chair. She seated herself, then pulled her girlfriend down into her lap.

The bittersweet ache of bidding farewell to Hunter still sat low in her chest, but now her heart raced with excitement once more.

“Ready for the jump to hyperspace?” she asked, quirking one eyebrow at Lyana.

Lyana merely linked her arms round Omega’s neck, shuffling to make herself comfortable.

“With you?” The question melted into a smile. “Always.”