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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XVIII

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General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 6.2K

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26 Yelona

The yowl of a monkey broke through a hazy dream: rocking waves, leaping porpoises, snapping sails. Kazi stiffened.

Darkness blanketed the living area, the moons having set and the sun yet to rise. Shadows played with the man who slept beside her.

Wolffe was sprawled upright on the couch, his arm still resting along the couch’s spine, his forearm a pillow to her cheek. Chin tilted to the ceiling, his breaths were slow and rhythmic.

For a while, Kazi watched him. Smiled smally at the curl teasing his forehead. Debated moving closer—to settle herself in his warmth and fall back asleep, to be selfish for a few more hours.

However, she wasn’t convinced they were…there.

On the imaginary line dictating relationships they were past establishing friendship and currently idling around trying to be more. And…that was it.

Needless to say, she didn’t want to come across as ignorant or burdensome or imperfect.

It didn’t matter, anyway. The chrono on the wall declared it was 04:02, and she didn’t want Neyti to stumble upon them.

Carefully, she placed her feet on the floor and started to stand. The uncurling of her body, the waking of her muscles and joints, was unrushed so she didn’t wake Wolffe—

A large hand gripped her elbow. It tugged her back to the couch. She didn’t bother resisting.

“Going somewhere?” Wolffe’s voice was hoarse from sleep.

“To my room,” she said. Hooded eyes, bleary yet alert, wandered across her face and she frowned at his evidential exhaustion. “You should go downstairs and get some more sleep. You need it.”

A low sound rumbled from the back of his throat—the combination of a scoff and chuckle. “I see why you were single.”

She sniffed. “Asshole.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Wolffe studied her for a moment more, and then he moved forward, flattening her to the couch, settling himself atop her body.

Stunned, Kazi could only blink at him, caught off guard by his quickness and strength. Whatever he saw in her face must have amused him because he smirked. And then his face lowered, and she couldn’t help but smile as he brushed his lips to her mouth. A request, a tease.

Angling her head slightly, she leaned forward, bracketing his lower lip with her mouth, winding her arms around his neck and holding him closer. His body sunk onto hers. Heavy but good; warm and safe. A cocoon to block out the world beyond and its unknowns.

Kazi kissed him, and she smiled against his mouth, and she ran her hands through his curls, and she drank in the heat of his body, the hands exploring her skin, the tongue playing with hers.

Wolffe kissed beneath her jaw. Kissed her neck. Kissed a sensitive spot behind her ear that had her shivering. He tugged on her earlobe, and just when she was about to bring his mouth to hers again, he rasped, “I’m clean.”

The words broke through her daze, like the pincers of a spider ripping apart her cocoon. The muscles along her back tautened.

Wolffe mouthed on that spot behind her ear. “Are you?”

“Yes.” Swallowing, she stared at the dark vastness beyond the skylights. Tried to steady her jittering heartbeat. Forced her tone to be even as she added, “I have the paperwork.”

A head interrupted her view of the burnt-black sky and Wolffe frowned down at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She mustered a smile and reached for his shirt, trying to unclasp the first button. But her hands were shaking. They were fucking shaking, and they wouldn’t stop, and it was so fucking pathetic. All she had to do was unbutton his shirt. It was so fucking simple. And then undo her trousers.

But she could feel him—feel his cock, hard and throbbing, between her legs, and he felt too large and she could only think about the pain years ago, and how it took her too long to be ready, and her partner’s annoyance when he realized there was something wrong with her.

That she was broken.

That she wasn’t enough in bed—

“Ennari.” Wolffe gripped her wrists, stalling her. He sat back on his haunches, his eyes narrowed. “What—”

“I’m sorry.” Pushing herself away, she perched on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the windows opposite. Her stomach was furled in a harsh, unrelenting ball. Her thighs were so stiff they hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Kazi.”

This was fucking humiliating.

A lack of composure. A lack of competence. A mortifying display of imperfection.

Kazi bit her tongue to stop the emotion collecting in the back of her throat. Took a breath and relished the familiar numbing sensation slipping through her veins, trickling from her head to her toes.

Wolffe cleared his throat. “Did I do—”

“No. It wasn’t you.” She looked at him, hating the hesitation in his face, and she clasped her hands in her lap, squeezing her fingers until they, too, were numb. “Sex is… It’s never been enjoyable and…” A choked laugh scraped her throat. “I’m afraid it’ll hurt. And I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of you. And I know it’s unfair to ask you to wait—”

“I’m more than capable of waiting,” Wolffe interrupted.

Her doubt must have been palpable because his nostrils flared.

“I don’t need anything physical,” he growled. “You can take whatever fucking time you need. I don’t care.” He rolled his shoulders back. “I have two hands. They’ve kept me satisfied the last two years. And they’ll keep me satisfied ‘til you’re ready.”

Tugging on a braid, strands loose from sleep, Kazi smiled weakly. “Two years, huh?”

He blinked. The corner of his mouth curved. “You judging me, Ennari?”

“I’m just surprised.” Grateful he accepted her deflection, she leaned back into the cushions, Wolffe mimicking her. Hesitantly, she set her hand on his thigh. It was hard and muscled beneath her palm. She continued. “It’s no wonder you’re so tense all the time.”

A quiet chuckle reverberated through his body; her tired smile widened. Wolffe rested his head against the couch’s spine and closed his eyes. His hand settled just above her knee.

“You know,” Kazi said, eyeing the opposite wall, “that picture is still crooked.”

Wolffe cracked an eye open. His brows bunched together. “Get your eyesight checked. It’s not fucking crooked.”

“It definitely is.”

Grumbling under his breath, Wolffe twisted his face toward her, the hand on her thigh tightening. A few seconds later and his breathing evened.

The smoky gray of dawn still clouded the skies and sunrise was still an hour away, at least. Kazi continued to massage Wolffe’s shoulder, deciding she didn’t mind waiting to watch the sunrise. After all, she hadn’t stopped to appreciate it in a long, long time.

The heat of late afternoon beat on Kazi. Even with long sleeves and trousers protecting her body, the sun licked at her skin, a tongue of fire.

Wiping sweat from her forehead, she snipped a dead branch from a bean plant. Nearby, Daria pushed the brim of her hat away from her eyes. Her sister hesitated, fiddling with her shears, glancing in her direction.

Kazi ignored it, as she had the last dozen similar moments. Something was on Daria’s mind, but Kazi refused to initiate the conversation—

“How’s your job?”

Her sheers jerked and a poorly snipped branch collapsed among the watered soil. Grimacing, Kazi blinked at her sister.

“How are you”—Daria’s cheeks flushed and she removed her hat—“handling the Empire’s arrival?”

“It’s fine,” Kazi said.

Awkward silence fell, as it had every time they talked alone.

They were trying. Trying to mend the brokenness in the little time they had left. But the past continued to creep over their shoulders, a specter haunting.

Kazi added, “Nothing crazy.”

Daria considered her for a prolonged moment. “It’s okay to be scared.”

She offered her sister a tight smile. “I’m not.”

“What happened on Ceaia was traumatic,” Daria said, lifting her chin. “If you’re struggling—”

“I’m fine.” Wiping more sweat from her forehead, she shrugged. “Everything is fine.”

Hurt, subtle like the muted shades of hazel amid the green of a jungle, rounded Daria’s eyes.

“You’re lying to me,” Daria murmured. Anger softened her voice. “I don’t understand why.”

“You’ve never cared before,” Kazi retorted. “I don’t understand why it matters all of a sudden.”

Daria flinched, and she dropped her gaze to an infant melon, a gloved finger tracing the pink ridges. “I’m sorry I made you think that.”

Sincerity whispered through her tone, a combination of remorse and resignation, and for a brief moment, Kazi considered telling her everything.

The magistrate and his threat.

The network and its desire to use her.

The panic spiking her chest, a fishing javelin impaling her over and over, severing flesh and muscle and bone, whenever she scrubbed data or stole it.

The nightmare haunting her dreams—the fear she would be discovered and it would lead to Daria’s, Neyti’s, and the men’s suffering.

A piece of her wanted to empty her mind of all the fears she was withholding. They were, after all, trying to be more honest and open with one another.

But Kazi couldn’t reveal the truth. It was her duty to protect Daria, even if it isolated her.

“I enjoy my job,” Kazi said, gentling her voice. “I’m good at what I do—”

“I know.” Daria smiled. It was awkward and hesitant, a toothless smile, and yet nostalgia unfurled her mouth further. A pink flower blossoming. “I remember your test scores. They were some of the best. Papa would have been proud.”

Emotion, maybe wistfulness or pain (it was hard to differentiate these days), burned the back of her throat. Hotter, more volatile than the blazing sun. Kazi looked away, to the little girl nearby.

Sprawled in the green ferns, feet swaying with the breeze, Neyti painted. Her white canvas bore the smears of sketches and blobs of paint. Her head bopped to whatever music was playing from the radio.

Beyond Neyti, the jungle sprawled. The trees hunched above, stoop-backed and weathered; vines writhed a mass of chaos. The men were out there, having spent the late morning on a hike with a scenic lunch. They’d left before Kazi and Daria took Neyti to the park, enjoying their own picnic.

“Did you ever find your purpose?” The randomness of the question, the continued attempt at conversation, had Kazi frowning at her sister. Daria was already watching her, eyes alit with curiosity. “In the capital. Did you ever find it?”

Removing her gloves, Kazi said, “I didn’t leave to find my purpose.”

Disbelief vivified Daria’s snort, and Kazi threw her sister an exasperated scowl.

“I didn’t,” she repeated. “I left to escape that lifestyle.”

“Marriage isn’t a terrible lifestyle,” Daria said, her smile playful, “and neither is having children.”

“It was a nightmare to me.” Kazi eyed her sister. “If Mama hadn’t raised you in high society, you would probably agree with me.”

Daria stilled. Her mouth flattened as she wrung her hat between her hands.

“Just because my dreams were different than yours,” Daria said softly, “doesn’t mean they were any less significant or deserving.”*

Kazi recoiled. “I never said they weren’t—”

“You didn’t have to.” Daria concentrated on the melon’s leaves, hiding her face from Kazi; sunlight burnished her hair a celestial gold, bright and warm like a light house’s beacon.

After all those years in etiquette classes and society balls, Kazi knew her disdain and dislike were overt. Even at home when she tried to gain her mother’s approval, her disinterest was obvious. She hadn’t realized her derision made Daria feel insignificant, though.

“Dee.” Her sister met her gaze. “I’m sorry.” Kazi clasped her hands together, her skin clammy. “I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.”

A small, kindly smile mollified Daria’s expression. “In hindsight, they were foolish to want.”

Kazi narrowed her eyes. “That’s not true.”

“My dreams won’t ever happen.” Daria folded her gloves and set her hat atop them. Her demeanor was composed, practiced. A façade. “I was a fool to spend so much of my youth yearning for those things.”

“The disease was random,” Kazi said tightly. She might not have shared in Daria’s desire for an arranged marriage and younglings, but seeing her sister renege on her dreams—seeing her sister belittle those dreams—was unsettling. Kazi still remembered a time when they shared a bed. A time when little Daria would whisper about her dreams to little Kazi, earnest and eager. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Maybe if I had spent less time wanting a marriage and children”—Daria breathed a rueful chuckle—“and more time trying to reconnect, then things—”

“Nothing would have changed.” Kazi pulled on a braid, shaking her head. “I would have been too stubborn. I wouldn’t have accepted anything you tried to give me. I’m responsible for what happened—”

“I don’t blame you—”

“You should.”

The words were out before she could swallow them and she winced. Daria was staring at her.

“Kazi—”

Splat!

Beyond the garden, sitting upright among the ferns, Neyti threw another handful of paint at her canvas. It splattered; black dotted her cheeks like teardrops. Even the ferns were victims of her frustration.

Sharing a nonplussed look with Daria, Kazi weaved through the garden’s gate and approached the little girl. Neyti was already on her feet, tearing off the apron Cody gifted her, and throwing it to the ground. She stomped on it. For extra measure, she kicked a paint bottle.

Kazi halted a meter away. Cautiously, she asked, “Are you okay?”

Tears wobbled in Neyti’s eyes and she sniffed, wiping black paint along her nose. Her head jerked back and she glared at her paint-stained hand. A frustrated sob heaved from her chest. Flopping in the ferns, she buried her face in her hands and hunched over her knees, sniffling.

Bewildered by the outburst, Kazi took in the destruction of both nature and canvas. A massacre of blues and purples and grays bloodied the canvas, the black leaching into the vibrant colors of Neyti’s sketched figures.

It took a few seconds for Kazi to decipher the figures, and when she did, her heart caved.

Seating herself beside Neyti, she picked at a scratchy fern. “You wanna talk about it?”

Neyti shook her head, still hiding her face between her knees.

“All right.” Kazi crossed her ankles, closing her eyes. “We’ll just sit here for a bit.”

So they did.

Sunshine clung to their unexposed bodies. Humidity plodded down their arms and spines. The jungle laid quiet, even the insects too hot to buzz. Only a gentle patter as Daria watered the garden eclipsed the silence, and it was subtle enough Kazi found it relaxing.

Soon Neyti lifted her head, wiping at her cheeks. She toed the edge of her butchered painting. Kazi let her stew for a few more minutes, regarding the ruined figures—the figures of her, Daria, and Neyti on what looked to be a Ceaian beach.

When Neyti shot her a furtive glance, she took the opening: “What happened?”

Neyti lifted her paintbrush. She mimed stroking it along the canvas, drawing an image only she could picture, and then she huffed, glaring at the invisible image.

“You weren’t happy with what you painted,” Kazi surmised.

Tossing the paintbrush aside, Neyti turned her attention to the jungle, her scowl glum.

Kazi studied the painting again. “When I first started knitting, I was terrible at it.”

Neyti continued to glower at the jungle.

“It took me months to learn how to knit a simple scarf,” Kazi continued, watching a black bird circle above them. “My creations were awful. You can ask Daria.”

From the corner of her eye, Neyti twisted in her direction. Skepticism, allied with curiosity, scrunched her nose.

“One winter holiday, I wanted to gift my mother a sweater.” The black bird flapped once, soaring higher as it rode the breeze. “But I couldn’t do it. None of my attempts were good enough. The last sweater I knitted had the ugliest patches crisscrossing the chest. I threw it out and went with a different gift.”

The creak of the garden gate alerted Kazi to Daria’s presence. Her sister leaned against one of the garden’s stakes, listening.

“The morning of the winter holiday, I went downstairs and I found my mother wearing the ugly sweater I had thrown away,” Kazi said, dropping her gaze to Neyti. “My mother and I didn’t get along real well. But she wore that sweater every winter holiday.”

Neyti peered into her face, her eyes seeking.

“You have a place here,” Kazi said softly. “It doesn’t matter if you mess up a painting. Or fail a test in school. It doesn’t matter if you accidentally break something.” Sheepishly, Neyti grinned at her sportive chuckle and Kazi smiled back, murmuring, “You’re enough, just the way you are.”

Regaining her feet, she offered Neyti a hand, the little girl accepting. Once Neyti was standing, she leaned against Kazi, tawny cheek pressed to thigh, their fingers still interlaced.

They remained that way for some time.

It was only when Neyti stepped away that Kazi nudged the girl’s shoulder.

“Come on,” she said, grinning. “I think it’s time we cooled off.”

They visited the lake.

The water was a sanctuary to the heat and humidity, the canopy of trees a reserve against the sun.

Like most Ceaian younglings, Neyti was adept at swimming. Once she was far enough from the shore, she dove into the water, fully clothed, and swam for the lake’s center. Kazi and Daria followed her lead. Clothes and all.

Beneath the bright sun, the lake’s depths were clear—hollowed tree trunks, spindly weeds—and the three of them dove to the sloping shelf, scrounging through the dirt in search of shells and fossils.

Their search revealed nothing of value. But Neyti didn’t seem to care. She found a new rock with each dive and placed them along the shore. The logic behind her method was lost on Kazi.

Returned from their hike, the men joined, ditching their shirts and shoes.

Nova showed interest in Neyti’s rock collection. Daria and Cody drifted. Fox challenged Wolffe to a race. It was close, and they argued about the winner until Neyti interrupted.

Neyti practiced her diving from Wolffe’s shoulders. Practice led to tossing Neyti into the air, which led to the men seeing who could throw her the highest. The farthest.

As the afternoon wore on, Neyti took to the shore, yawning as she built a sandcastle. Fox helped with the construction while Daria braided her black hair. Cody and Nova swam nearby.

“I’m surprised you swim in this every morning,” Wolffe said. “In the dark.”

The sun was warm on her face as Kazi floated, and she shrugged. “There aren’t any creatures I need to worry about.”

Wolffe chuckled. “I find it hard to believe you would care.”

“I sailed in a tiny boat that could easily be swallowed by an average-sized whale. Not much in the ocean scares me.” He snorted, and she opened an eye, smiling. “One time, when I was swimming, a pod of sharks found me. They weren’t human predators, but they were known for being aggressive. I thought they were going to attack me.”

Chuckling he said, “I had a similar experience.” He, too, floated on his back, the brown of his skin warmer beneath the sun’s rays. “A pod of aiwhas came up on me. Thought I was gonna die.”

Kazi laughed. “What’s an aiwha?”

“A winged cetacean. Twice as large as your aircar.” Wolffe considered her and then smiled. “You would like ‘em.”

“Huh.” Kazi squinted at the sky, clouds of white froth foaming across the blue, trying to imagine such a creature. Ceaia had an abundance of odd, mythological-like sea creatures but she’d never heard of a winged cetacean. Her gaze slid back to Wolffe; he was studying the sky, too, ruminating based on his expression, and she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question that had bothered her since he first mentioned swimming all those nights ago: “Do you miss Kamino?”

“No.” The reply was swift. A bluntness lacking emotion; purely pragmatic. He sighed. “I do miss the oceans.”

“Would you move back, if given the chance?” A hypothetical question considering the Imperial-initiated destruction of Tipoca City.

Scrubbing his jaw, Wolffe let his legs drop, treading the water upright. “I like the ground as much as I like the ocean.” He took in the jungle around them. “And Kamino doesn’t have solid ground.”

“You would like Ceaia,” Kazi remarked.

The tips of his fingers brushed hers. “I think I would.”

Water rolled across her arms and legs, dragging at her clothes. Kazi ignored the tug downwards, not solely literal, but an inward tug, too, almost instinctive.

Wolffe surveyed the pits beneath them. “Can you reach the bottom?”

“I have,” she said, letting her lower body sink beneath the surface. She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think you can?”

An arrogant smirk humored the challenge in his eyes, and he motioned for her to lead.

With a slow, deep breath, she dove beneath the surface and propelled herself down.

Silence thrummed around her. Imperceptibly tangible.

She dove deeper.

Though the sun was a wicked light above, the depths were cool and dark. Kazi equalized her ear pressure the farther she swam. Wolffe remained beside her, and she smiled to herself. Of course he would know how to equalize his ear pressure—it was something he probably taught himself as a boy.

Once they reached the bottom, Wolffe searched the lake’s floor, and Kazi let her eyes drift close, embracing the silence and the darkness.

This was her favorite part about diving. She could pretend nothing else existed down here: The galaxy’s issues, her own responsibilities, her fears and concerns were nonexistent. It was just her, and the water, and the pressure that could kill her. Oddly soothing.

But she couldn’t stay down here forever, and soon, her limit made itself known. Tapping Wolffe’s shoulder, she waved and started the slow climb back to the surface.

The sun greeted her, a puppy licking at her face, its heat severe.

Swimming to the shore, Kazi found a secluded spot, seated herself in the sand, and apricated beneath the canopied trees. On the perpendicular shore, Fox was sprawled in the sand, clothed once more. Nearby, Neyti was curled on her side, drawing pictures in the wet sand. Daria, Cody, and Nova were flicking stones across the lake’s surface, absorbed in their conversation.

A few seconds later and Wolffe rejoined Kazi, a slimy, gray rock in his palm. It appeared unordinary and she was about to tease him when she noticed its spiraled protrusions.

“It’s bioluminescent,” she said, awed.

He turned it over in his palm, the spiraled pattern continuing. “Thought Neyti would like it.”

Humming her agreement, she took their momentary seclusion to study the arm closest to her. His left arm.

From his wrist to his shoulder, a tatted assortment of spirals, waves, and korus darkened his skin. A series of parallel ridges, like interlocking arrowheads, provided structure.

“The men closest to me had similar ones,” Wolffe said quietly, referencing the line-drawn wolf’s head piercing his bicep. “They called themselves the Wolf Pack. Chose the name to annoy me.”

Stoic in its design, the wolf’s angular edges contrasted the softer, curvature design of his other tattoos.

“Or maybe they chose it because they respected and admired you,” Kazi said. Wolffe cleared his throat, looking away.

Lackadaisically, she traced a spiral, following it from his forearm to his elbow. The hairs on his arm rose, and a smattering of goosebumps dotted his skin. Wolffe held still as she flattened her palm to his bicep. As if he feared any movement would deter her.

Brushing a finger along the wolf’s jawline, she studied his features. Thick lashes lowered. Lips slightly parted. His eyes wandered across her face, darker than Eluca’s soil after rainfall.

It was the trust in his countenance—the lacking stiffness as she touched him, the relaxed manner of his jaw, and the fact that they were far enough away no one could see them—that convinced Kazi to turn around and shimmy her shirt up—

A choked noise sounded behind her. Wolffe grabbed her wrists, halting her movement, and she frowned at him.

“As much as I’d love to see where this leads,” he drawled, “my brothers aren’t far away.”

“I’m not undressing.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m showing you something.”

“Could’ve given me a warning,” he muttered, releasing her wrists.

Instead of completely separating, as she thought he would, his hands settled on her hips. Calluses scraped her skin, his hold gentle, and she let out a shaky breath, holding still. Mirrored thumbs skimmed her lower back. A caress so soft she could’ve imagined it.

“Nice dimples,” Wolffe murmured. His thumbs stroked lower, to a point she could only assume. The point where her skin indented on opposite sides of her spine.

“I didn’t think you’d notice them,” she said, resting her cheek against her bent knees.

Wolffe slid his hands higher, his palms bracketing her ribcage as he traced the outline of her tattoo. A low hum spoke of his intrigue. And secluded in the shadows, away from prying eyes, Kazi found herself relaxing into him. Basking in the tenderness of his touch on her bare skin.

A chaste kiss found her neck. Her breathing faltered; her eyelashes fluttered. Brushing her hair aside, Wolffe grazed his teeth down the side of her neck, kissing beneath her jaw.

A delectable warmth seeped through her blood and swirled in her stomach. Throbbed between her legs. His hand skimmed her ribcage and moved to her stomach, resting just beneath her breasts.

“Wolffe,” she whispered.

He kissed her jaw, soft and slow, and her heart was beating entirely too fast—

Beep!

Kazi jerked. Behind her, Wolffe stared at his wrist-chrono, his brows bunched together. He clicked a button. And then he stiffened. The hand on her stomach flexed. As if wanting to pull her closer.

“We have inbound,” Fox called out.

Malaise knotted her shoulder muscles, and hastily, Kazi scanned their surroundings. Cody and Nova were both looking at their wrist-chronos. The former’s jaw was clenched, the latter scowling in the direction of the single road to the house.

“Wolffe,” Kazi said cautiously.

“We need to go,” Wolffe ordered.

Anger—no, unease—radiated from him, palpable in its intensity, as he helped her to her feet. More like hauled her upright.

Urgency zipped through the atmosphere—a cloud hid the sun; cawing birds were silenced; Nova carried a disgruntled Neyti back to the house, Cody ushering Daria after them.

Sand shifted beneath her feet as Kazi hurried across the lake’s shore. Fox stood at the trail head, waiting for her and Wolffe. He was palming a blaster, and it was the weapon, his readiness that had her blanching, turning on Wolffe.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

“Our sensors picked up someone coming down the road,” Wolffe said, tone clipped. Authoritative.

“You have sensors?” Kazi took in the dense foliage, its vibrant green nauseating. “On our road?”

His expression was unapologetic. “And around the house.”

“Be grateful for them,” Fox chimed in. His voice was calm but his features were serious, hyper-focused. “They’ve given us enough of a warning to prepare.”

Kazi blinked, dubiously. “Who’s coming.”

Wolffe squared his shoulders, his nostrils flaring. “It’s a military vehicle.”

The jungle stilled, her heart along with it; even the clouds seemed to halt in their lazy drifting.

Slowly, Kazi faced the house, the structure swallowed by the yawning wilderness.

The house and elder trees wavered. Flickered and blurred. Like she was staring at them through sheets of rain.

Suddenly she wasn’t on Eluca.

She wasn’t in a jungle.

She was back in Ceaia’s capital, the night young.

Screams harrowing the alleys.

Body parts strewn across rubble.

Her sweaty hand clamped around Daria’s.

But she wasn’t on Ceaia, and this wasn’t the Purge, and she wasn’t going to watch her kid and little sister be hurt.

“You need to get into the basement,” Kazi heard herself saying. She didn’t remember moving, but she was nearing the back porch, climbing the stairs and reaching the back door. She looked between Wolffe and Fox. “They don’t know about it—”

“We’re staying out here,” Wolffe said. His eyes were narrowed as he scanned the leering foliage. “Strategic positioning. Element of surprise.”

The back door swung open and Cody and Nova appeared, both armed. The former passed a blaster to Wolffe who nodded his thanks.

Four trained soldiers. Three former commanders. Clone commanders.

A reassurance, if anything.

Wolffe faced Kazi, and though his jaw was tensed and body stiff, his voice was calm when he spoke. “See what they want. Play along. If things go south, we’ll intervene.”

Nodding, she stepped through the door. However, Wolffe grabbed her wrist, holding her back.

“This isn’t a repeat of Ceaia,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she murmured.

Inside, Daria and Neyti were perched on the couch, a holofilm already playing. Towels enshrouded their frames and Daria handed Kazi an extra, her skin ashy and throat bobbing.

Running a hand through Neyti’s wet hair, Kazi gripped her sister’s shoulder and squeezed. A silent reassurance. Neyti waved at her, guileless confusion rounding her eyes.

Before Kazi could explain, a loud thud pounded against the front door. Daria flinched.

“We’re going to be okay,” Kazi said, ignoring the apprehension spasming inside her chest. Both Daria and Neyti stared at her, and she mustered a tight smile, gesturing to the holoscreen. “Keep watching.”

The holofilm fell prey to the roar of her blood as she approached the front door.

The entryway tunneled around her.

Her dragon, its black hide glittering, pawed its bookshelf.

Not a repeat of Ceaia, Kazi told herself.

The doorknob was cold beneath her trembling hand.

Not a repeat.

Three stormtroopers blemished the view from the porch. The leader, donning a black pauldron and carrying a datapad, straightened.

“Kazi Lucien?” he asked.

“Yes.” Simple confusion, apprehensive yet intrigued enough to be innocent, calmed her voice. Working with Imperials the last few days had given her the practice, at least. “Do you need something?”

“Routine check,” the leader answered. Lowering his ‘pad, his helmet angled down and to the side, like he was studying her. “I’m Officer Sterling. Have you or any others in this house participated in acts of rebel terrorism?”

Not a repeat.

Her eyes widened. “No, sir.”

“Mind if we check?”

Stepping away from the door, she waved the troopers inside. “Of course not.”

Officer Sterling strode into the living area, his two subordinates following, blasters in their hands. Kazi followed.

A practiced mask slid into place. Cool and familiar. Her dragon’s wing brushed her elbow.

“Search the place,” Office Sterling ordered.

The two stormtroopers marched toward the sunroom and disappeared beneath the partition.

Not a repeat.

“How many people are registered at this house?”

“Three,” Kazi answered. “My sister, my child, and me.”

The officer glanced at the couch where Neyti was dutifully watching her movie. A polite smile warmed Daria’s face as she looked from Kazi to Officer Sterling. Her kindly expression must have convinced Officer Sterling of her innocence because he returned his attention to his datapad.

“I only had one person registered at this house,” the officer said.

“We recently moved to Eluca,” Kazi answered apologetically, “and our papers are taking a long time to process.”

Officer Sterling assessed her, his silence unreadable.

Not a repeat.

“All right.” The officer sighed. “You’ll need to correct that.”

Half an hour later, both floors of the house checked along with the garage, the two subordinates made their way to the front door.

“I’ll update the status of your house,” Officer Sterling said, stopping before the bookcase.

Kazi smiled her feigned gratitude. “Thank you.”

The officer appraised the bookcase. He took a step closer.

Stilling, Kazi searched the bookcase for a hint of their treachery. Their lies. Their rebel terrorism. It was melded to the wall, seamless, unnoticeable.

Officer Sterling reached for a bookshelf.

Something—a hand, or a metaphorical noose, perhaps—palmed her neck. Tightened. Squeezed.

“Nice carving,” the officer said. He poked the dragon on the near-empty shelf, and Kazi swallowed. “That’s some good workmanship. My grandfather was a wood carver and I’ll tell ya, that skillset is hard to master.”

Chuckling, she clasped her trembling hands behind her back. “So I’ve heard.”

Officer Sterling scanned the dragon once more, oblivious to the carving’s significance, and the information it could reveal.

Kazi kept this to herself as the military vehicle rumbled down the dirt path. A cloud of dust kicked into the air, and once the jungle claimed the vehicle, Kazi lurched down the porch steps, hunkered behind a tree, and retched.

She vomited until she was spitting bile.

“Fuck,” she hissed under her breath.

Spittle dribbled from her lips and she retched again.

The Empire now had records of Neyti and Daria. Fucking official, Imperial records.

All of her attempts to protect them—to hide them from the Empire—had failed.

A bogged adoption process through Eluca’s Adoption Center for Young Girls and Boys. Pointless.

A healer connected to Fehr and, most importantly, unconnected to the Empire. Worthless.

Now, if someone grew curious—if someone deemed it necessary to investigate her background—they would find Neyti and Daria. Dig deep enough, and they would uncover circumstantial evidence against woman and youngling: evidence the Empire would deem strong enough to condemn them.

A cold sweat clammed her skin and Kazi pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaky.

Nothing could be done. Her efforts had failed. She had failed.

Only baseless hope, hope in the solidity of Carinthia’s chain codes and hope Kazi never gave the Empire reason to investigate, would keep Neyti and Daria safe.

Wiping her hand across her mouth, Kazi straightened her damp clothes and returned inside.

Gathered at the kitchen table, the men were analyzing a holopod displaying the vacated dirt road. Daria and Neyti remained on the couch, the latter asleep in the former’s lap.

“It was a routine check,” Kazi said, joining the men. Wolffe shared a look with Cody. “They were searching for signs of rebel activity. Sounds like they’re checking all houses.”

Fox crossed his arms over his chest. “Did they mention how often these ‘routine checks’ will occur?”

She shook her head.

“Did they suspect anything?” Cody asked.

“No.” Rubbing her hands together, she stared at the holopod display. Her heart was jumping around her ribcage, out of control, fearful. It felt like her chest might pop. “I don’t think so.”

Fox stepped closer to her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Whatever adrenaline had kept her in control, composed and competent, in front of the Imperials seemed to abandon her. Her blood was cold, and her legs too weak, and she thought she might collapse.

Her hands were shaking and she quickly hid them behind her back, gritting her teeth as she forced her mind to numb itself. Forcibly shoved aside her fear and panic, shoved them down, until she was nothing more than a hollowed tree. Empty. Unfeeling.

“They didn’t find anything,” Kazi said, her voice distant, cold. “And they didn’t seem suspicious.”

“It was a random check?” Fox asked.

“That’s what they said.”

“And they said nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

“If they said something—”

“That’s enough.” Wolffe’s voice cut through the numbness chilling her mind, and Kazi blinked. He was staring at her, assessing, narrow-eyed, and then he faced his brothers. “We can discuss this later.”

At the dismissal, she started for the staircase, needing to lock herself away. Only for a few minutes. To compose herself, once more.

Her body seemed far away, disconnected, as she neared the first step. And it took her a prolonged moment to realize someone had reached for her shoulder, withholding her.

“Kazi,” Wolffe murmured. And it was the concern in his tone, the concern in the way he searched her face, that had her mustering a tight smile. For his sake.

“I thought something at work…”

“You thought they’d discovered you.”

Fatigue gnawed on her bones as suppressed emotions fought with her control. Biting the inside of her cheek, she ordered herself to remain numb. To not succumb to the tears burning the back of her eyes.

“I always knew working for the network was dangerous,” Kazi said hoarsely. “But I didn’t think…”

Shrugging, she breathed a humorless laugh.

Wolffe watched her. Unmoving. Inscrutable.

The repressed tears were scorching and she clenched her jaw. Dug her fingernails into her palms—

The hand on her shoulder moved to her back, urged her forward, and Kazi found herself leaning into Wolffe, pressing her forehead to his chest.

“I keep failing,” she whispered, for only him to hear. A secret she couldn’t share with Daria. A responsibility she had to endure alone.

A heavy arm wound around her shoulders. It held her close.

And gods, did it feel nice. To rely on another, for just a moment.

Masterlist | Chapter 17 | A Muse

A/N: * Line inspired by Little Women (2019): "Just because my dreams are different than yours doesn't mean they're unimportant. I want a home and a family and I'm willing to work and struggle, but I want to do it with John."

#I Yearn and so I Fear #commander wolffe x oc: kazi ennari #commander wolffe #oc: kazi ennari #star wars fan fiction #star wars fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfiction #commander wolffe fanfic #commander wolffe x oc

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eatingthroughthedas · 5 months ago

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Welcome!

Arc - he/they - Grown but not willing to share my age on the internet anymore.

Main @pigeonwithaknife

Art @pigeonwithapen (I drew the scrungly baby Assan in my icon lol)

I will be using this blog to combine two of my favorite things - DA and arbitrarily sorting stuff. Figured I could share recipes while cataloging the recipes in the official dragon age cookbook!

As I go through the book I will be noting regions, groups, and characters recipes are associated with, along with the following dietary restrictions:

Vegetarian - V

Vegan - Ve (I am including honey as vegan, I’ll block you if you try to start that debate here)

Pescatarian - P

Gluten/Wheat intolerance friendly - Wh

As I try out different recipes I’ll link their post below the cut, as well as the different region/group/character tags that come up!

*Small Update: added Holidays as a tag catergory, also below :)

Recipes

Starters & Refreshments

Eggs à la Val Foret

Nevarran Blood Orange Salad

Fried Young Giant Spiders

Stuffed Deep Mushrooms

Rivaini Couscous Salad - Ve

Crab Cakes from Kirkwall

Fluffy Mackerel Pudding - P, Wh

Snail & Watercress Salad

Cave Beetles

For the Road

Spiced Jerky

Grey Warden Pastry Pockets

Pickled Eggs - V, Wh

Unidentified Meat - Wh

Seheron Fish Pockets - P

Fereldan Hearty Scones

Crow Feed

Black Lichen Bread

Hearth Cake

Peasant Bread

Soups & Stews

Merrill's Blood Soup

Fereldan Potato and Leek Soup

The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew

Fish Chowder

Sweet and Sour Cabbage Soup

Lentil Soup

Nettle Soup

King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew

Main Courses

Stuffed Cabbage

Antivan Gnocchi - V

Antivan Paella

Grilled Poussin

Gurgut Roast with Lowlander Spices and Mushroom Sauce

Nug Pancakes

Fish in Salt Crust

Roasted Wyvern

Nug Bacon and Egg Pie

Starkhaven Fish and Egg Pie

Cacio e Pepe - V

Turnip and Mutton Pie

Smoked Ham from the Anderfels

Roasted Turkey with Sides

Sides

Sera's Yummy Corn - V, Wh

Stuffed Vine Leaves

Honey Carrots

Nevarran Flat Bread and Yogurt Dip - V

Sweet Delights

Blancmange

Poison Stings - V, Wh

Dalish Forest Fruit Cobbler

Dwarven Plum Jam

Sour Cherries in Cream

Treviso Energy Balls

Rice Pudding

Goat Custard

Baked Goods

Antivan Apple Grenade

Found Cake

Varric's Favorite Cinnamon Rolls.

Croissants

Cherry Cupcakes

Chocolate Cake

Varric's Favorite Pastries

Sugar Cake

Lamprey Cake

Tevinter Pumpkin Bread

Drinks & Potions

Lichen Ale

The Hissing Drake

Hot Chocolate - V, Wh

Antivan Sip-Sip

Dragon Piss

Rivaini Tea Blend

The Golden Nug

The Emerald Valley

Chasind Sack Mead

Regions &

Rivain

Tevinter

Nevarra

Ferelden

Seheron

Antiva

Groups

Bull’s Chargers

Friends of the Red Jenny

Characters

Dorian Pavus

The Iron Bull

Cullen Rutherford

Krem

Sera

Josephine Montilyet

Lucanis Dellamorte

Caterina Dellamorte

Holidays

Feast Day

#dragon age tastes of thedas #pinned post

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ao3feed-peterparker · 9 months ago

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Unto Failed Retirement

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gXtNnpW by merelyimmaculate Spider-Man is dead. Or retired, if one is to believe the conspiracy theorists on the internet, not that it is as debated a subject as it should be with the multiverse collapsing and squashing two inherently different universes into one. Not that any of that is part-time Daily Bugle employee Peter Parker’s business. Excepting that it might be. With his newest assignment relating to ‘The Merge’ and Karen’s investigation into a string of murder’s connected to Spider-Man, Peter states on the record that the retirement of Spider-Man seems to be coming to a fast-paced tumultuous end. Words: 1866, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, DCU, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Karen Page, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU), Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, J. Jonah Jameson, Harry Osborn, To Be Updated - Character Relationships: Karen Page & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker-centric, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dimension Travel, Comic Book Science, Suspension Of Disbelief, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Identity Reveal, Peter Parker is Retired from Spider-Man, unsuccessfully read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/gXtNnpW

#IFTTT #peter parker #spider-man #spiderman #marvel #the avengers #ao3 #ao3feed

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 9 months ago

Text

Unto Failed Retirement

by merelyimmaculate Spider-Man is dead. Or retired, if one is to believe the conspiracy theorists on the internet, not that it is as debated a subject as it should be with the multiverse collapsing and squashing two inherently different universes into one. Not that any of that is part-time Daily Bugle employee Peter Parker’s business. Excepting that it might be. With his newest assignment relating to ‘The Merge’ and Karen’s investigation into a string of murder’s connected to Spider-Man, Peter states on the record that the retirement of Spider-Man seems to be coming to a fast-paced tumultuous end. Words: 1866, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, DCU, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Karen Page, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU), Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, J. Jonah Jameson, Harry Osborn, To Be Updated - Character Relationships: Karen Page & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker-centric, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dimension Travel, Comic Book Science, Suspension Of Disbelief, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Identity Reveal, Peter Parker is Retired from Spider-Man, unsuccessfully via https://ift.tt/okaFdgr

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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ao3feed-wandamaximoff · 2 years ago

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I.S.N: Your Friendly Neighbourhood Journalist

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/uO0hCGQ by BOREDGrace23 I.S.N, or what the acronym stands for, ‘Independent Spider Newspaper’, was a small blog dedicated to documenting every interesting individual or event Peter came across, or a discussion he feels needs to be stated publicly. His Uncle Ben chose the name of the blog, and after some convincing from his Aunt May and the passing of his uncle, it stuck. The blog gained over 30,000 followers after he posted a brief discussion/debate called ‘Why we need Vigilantes’. The controversial and biassed discussion titled 'Why we need Vigilantes' gained over 30,000 followers shortly after J. Jonah Jameson, a rival journalist, revealed that the person posting it was, in fact, a vigilante. Words: 1327, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types, Moon Knight (TV 2022), Daredevil (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, J. Jonah Jameson, Tony Stark, Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock, Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Steven Grant (Marvel), Khonshu (Moon Knight) Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), J. Jonah Jameson & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steven Grant & Jake Lockley & Peter Parker & Marc Spector, Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker & Everyone Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, Team Red (Marvel), Plus Moon Knight, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Parental Tony Stark, BAMF Matt Murdock, Not Canon Compliant, Social Media, Texting, chat fic, J. Jonah Jameson Not Being An Asshole, Wade Wilson Takes Care of Peter Parker, Protective Marc Spector, Jake Lockley Swears, Soft Steven Grant (Marvel), Ketamine, Moon Knight only has one braincell and Khonshu holds it read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/uO0hCGQ

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #(your tags here)

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fluffy-bunbunny · 4 years ago

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What is the complete storyline? Is Valentino an abusive ass in this one 2? If so, why does Angel let him around Whitey? And why does Alastor treat him the way he does?

Part 1:

Valentino took Angel Dust and made him a star.

He surrounded Angel with his cigarette smoke and promised him all the riches of hell if he worked obediently for him, he just had to say "yes" to everything and be a very submissive boy.

Drugs ran through his blood. He couldn't live without inhaling that red smoke, Angel needed it in his life, if he didn't breathe it, became nervous, depressed and hysterical.

Being close to Valentino was the only thing that made him happy and he would endure any abuse for his dose of drugs.

Angel worked hard to earn a position as his right hand man and also a position in the heart of the Moth. His life was drugs, fame and money, Valentino adored Angel and was about to confess.

Angel was sickly in love, dependent, would have done anything to make him happy... But he made a mistake that would cost him everything.

Valentino lost a lot of money, territory and fame, because of a mission that Angel failed and Valentino swore by his life that Angel was going to give him back every dollar that he lost because of his mistake.

Angel Dust was overexploited to the point of fainting, consuming more drugs every day to stay on his feet and earn Valentino's forgiveness. He cursing himself every day, every second for having defrauded in this way the one he had "saved" him from poverty and had made him a recognized star.

The debt went on and on growing. As time went by, Valentino added disproportionate interests with which he kept Angel in misery. Their relationship was totally broken and Vox entered the game.

So many years passed. Still, Angel Dust thought there would come a point where Val would forgive him and they would have that beautiful dream relationship again, that idealized relationship, for which he cried every night.

Sales began to drop, Valentino proposed as a novelty to turn Angel into a woman and reach a new audience. Angel was terrified at the idea, but he would do anything... to please Valentino.

Many experiments later, it was possible, Angel Dust would now be a woman. She would shoot straight porn for a limited time and that would boost sales. Val was beaming, happy and that made Angel happy too.

Angel was still very sore from all the experiments they did on him... Although for Val there was nothing that some sex would not solve and Angel enjoyed the few times that Valentino was kind.

Angel Dust returned to the Happy Hotel, to recover and get used to her new body.

Alastor has always been an egocentric who only thinks about himselft, but seeing Angel in his new body caused him curiosity, and he approached to find out more; he unconsciously acted as a cordial and polite man, the feminine essence made him lower his guard. Angel in his new body made him more friendly, as he always was with women, a cordial and educated man.

A drink, a few caresses, one thing led to another. It was nothing out of the ordinary, just a one night stand.

Cap 2 The recordings were going very well, but Angel felt bad, dizzy, disgusted and somewhat weak. He went to the doctor and received the horrible news: an unwanted pregnancy.

Angel was very sure it was Valentino's, because he was the first to "taste" his new body.

They tried to abort him in a thousand ways, cause for them it was only a hindrance, but Angel's body was not resisting: weak, thin and sunk in drugs... And Valentino was not going to lose his source of income.

Although it did not seem like it, after the initial shock the idea didn't seem so bad. Valentino, in his egocentricity, wanted to leave offsprings and have a "Mini-Me", he wanted something of his own blood, something made by himself and the more time passed, the more he got excited about the idea.

Angel… He was happy to make Valentino happy and he dreamed of a family, a good family, not like the one he had in human life, a family with parents who would love his children.

This new beginning brought Val and Angel back together, who began to reconcile, fantasizing about a happy and powerful family.

Even so, Angel Dust didn't stop doing porn and only added the tag “pregnant”.

The expected day arrived, after a long wait a little white-haired male baby was born in hell. Angel returned to his masculine form immediately after that.

A soft fluff surrounding his neck… And deer ears decorated his head.

Valentino didn't take the news well at all, he felt betrayed and used, exploded in anger.

He had them both killed.

Angel Dust, using all of his strength, took off running towards the Happy Hotel, with Valentino shooting to kill and with Vox's dogs hot on his heels.

He barely managed to arrive, exhausted and broken, just in time to reach Alastor's arms and ask for asylum, who didn't understand anything, but would not let Valentino, least of all Vox, were to cause problems in his hotel.

Big was his surprise when he found out that this little boy was his son, someone with whom he never had a single connection, who only had a one night stand, came to bring him his little newborn.

After the chaos, Charlie took Angel and the little one in, while Alastor made sure to guard the place without letting Valentino carry out revenge on him.

days passed and Angel thought about killing his own son if it brought him Valentino's forgiveness, but he knew it, nothing could heal such a broken relationship.

On his side, Alastor avoided getting close to Angel and the little boy, not knowing how to react and how to take on his fatherly role, watching them from afar and stalking them around the hotel.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp and his square-faced lover that if anything happened to his son's 'mother', he would destroy them without thinking.

Knowing that they couldn't kill him, but Val and Vox came up with a good plan to keep making his life miserable.

Cap 3 Final.

Val demanded that Angel return to work as soon as he could, so he would continue to exploit him and make his life miserable, knowing that in the end he wasn't in a relationship with the red demon and a deal... It's a deal: all Angel belonged to Valentino by contract.

Alastor made it clear to the pimp that if anything happened to the spider, he would eat his body for dinner.

Little by little Alastor got closer to Angel (not in a romantic way) to get to know his little one better. After some debate, he ended up being named White: on one hand a name that sounded appropriate for Alastor and on the other hand, for being a nickname for cocaine (White dust, White powder, White rock). His little one "Whitey".

(Here I make a clarification, that there was never an agreement on the name in general and Whitey's first name is Alastor Jr)

Alastor Jr White.

... But White hates it and prefers to be called Whitey, Witty, Whitie, etc)

Angel didn't want to make Alastor uncomfortable, he didn't even trust him, as he felt that it would be easier for the Lord to eat Whitey than to bear an unwanted child with someone like him.

Somewhat overprotective and without wanting to get away from his baby, he preferred to take Whitey to work, leaving him in charge of other porn actresses while he worked. Whittie was still a months old baby and he wouldn't remember or know what was going on around him.

Thus, Whitey's childhood was spent in the arms of actresses and prostitutes. Angel just came out of filming, took a shower and ran to pick up his son.

Valentino avoided Angel because he felt that if he saw him he would destroy his face with rage, but he never imagined meeting the little one.

The girls huddled together to give affection to that small and tender being, they filled him with kisses with lipstick and hugged him with the smell of cheap cologne, remembering their children they had in life. He started to be a "everyone's son" in the studio.

The pimp was curious about the situation and went to see, running into the baby. He had angry feelings when he saw him, he had waited for him for so long, he had wanted him and he had even bought things for his arrival and now he was in front of him... But It wasn't his son, yet Val had loved him for so long that the feeling couldn't go away easily.

Valentino took him in his arms and felt something inside him, White smiled for him and wagged his tail happily.

When Angel Dust finished filming, he saw Valentino surrounded by the other actresses with his baby in his arms, laughing loudly and playing with him. His heart clenched at the thought that he could hurt him... but he didn't, he looked happy and Whitey too.

Despite the fright, Angel couldn't refuse to let Valentino approach Whitie, because he would get in trouble with the pimp, so he just stayed on the sidelines, making sure that the little one didn't enrage the madman who was his boss.

As a result, Angel, Val and Whitt began to spend time together, creating a false sense of 'happy family', one where Angel would see Valentino smile daily at this new 'toy' he gave birth to for him.

The one who was not happy was Vox, who had made a baby specifically for Valentino (Bytez), to fulfill his frustrated dream of being a father, but Valentino had cruelly rejected him after becoming fond with Whittie.

On his side, Alastor promised to give his son the best possible life.

He placed high expectations on him, relying on his ego in wanting to raise him as someone faultless, Alastor wanted him to be perfect, a worthy son of him, one that people admired and feared, a powerful being like him who could dominate the masses.

Whitey was still a baby but Alastor saw a lot of potential. Knowing that Angel was taking him to his work was not to his liking, much less knowing that his son was in the hands of someone like Valentino.

When he was barely old enough to learn, Whitey passed into the hands of Alastor, who gave him tutors and teachers, molding him from a young age with a strict regimen.

Alastor's high expectations destroyed his bond with Whitie, always demanding more of him, always demanding a perfection that he couldn't achieve. In his youth, he did't know how to shoot a weapon (and when he learned he had a horrible aim) he didn't hide his feelings behind a smile like him, he was explosive and affectionate, he had a hard time controlling his inner power. Spending father and son time was a headache for both of them: always fighting, always arguing, too different to get along.

Alastor saw his son as a disappointment and even as a danger, because he had to control that his bad temper didn't cause greater havoc, controlling the power in him.

Unlike Valentino, the pimp loved to see Whitey be destructive, be messy and boisterous, be dirty and annoying. He loved taking him to fast food and limousine rides, using him as a weapon for his enemies, watching him tear people apart and bathe his white skin in blood, watching him devour his victims like a wild animal.

Val gave him the acceptance and attention that Alastor denied him since he was a child, the paternal hugs, the words of encouragement, hearing him say "I'm proud of you", "you are the king" "you can achieve what you propose".

And so was his life, between the studio and the happy hotel. Loving Angel, hating Alastor and loving his “uncle / stepfather” Valentino.

#long text #hazbin hotel alastor #Hazbin hotel Valentino #Angel dust #Fluffy Deer #3vBot #Radiodust #Valangel #oc lore

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sheep33hallow · 3 years ago

Text

I work the night shift 2(Hisoillu,kurokura)

Part 1

Summary: Kurapika finds out he's pregnant from his friends with benefits Kuroro Lucifer

Tags: ABO, mpreg, kurapika and Illumi are best friends, Yakuza

_________

The next day:

Kurapika stared at Kuroro's back. The older man was cooking breakfast for the both of them while he sat on a stool next to the kitchen bar.

He didn't expect Kuroro to follow Hisoka home yesterday. He annoyingly attached himself to Kurapika's side. Sniffing him, and cooing with him over Silvia. Then pulled him into his car with the promise of turning his spare room into his nest.

His car was still at Illumi's.

He looked at the large spider on Kuroro's bareback. Dark, demonic with kanji written in red. A symbol of his Yakuza roots. Their kid would have to get one at some point in their life.

Ugh. Explaining this to the person he would marry will be an obstacle.

"Do I have to meet your family soon?" Asked Kurapika. His hand was held tight on his cup of tea.

Kuroro swayed his hips to the music lightly playing on his phone. His dark pants hung low on his muscular hips. "Whenever you're ready."

"You're in the Yakuza. Won't I be stalked or something?" He tilted his head, not sure if he was getting his thoughts acrossed.

"Stalked for what? You're already pregnant. They won't really care until the baby is born and then we will need to do a blessing ceremony."

"For what?"

Kuroro turned off the stove. Opening the cabinets up, above the stove, he took out two plates. Placing them on the counter, he went to the fridge next. "So they live a long and protected life. That a God chooses to favor them."

Kurapika took a sip, watching Kuroro pouring juice into his glass. Closing the fridge, he put the cup on the bar before returning to filling their plates up. "Did a God favor you?"

"I'm living longer than my father did, so I'd say so." Turning around, each hand is holding a plate of food. He places one in front of Kurapika who says his thanks. He nods in acknowledgement, then sits across from the blonde.

They eat.

"Do you want to go buy things for your nest?" Kuroro ask.

He swallows. "I don't know if it will be worth my time. We won't live together and it'll just freak my brain out."

"I plan on helping every step of the way." His deep voice speaks. He remembers that deep voice being real nasty with him last night. Dirty talk is a Kuroro speciality.

"You don't have to. I know you're busy." He sips. "And I have Illumi to guide me."

Kuroro slowed his chewing pace. "That's nice." He said with a strangely calm tone.

Kurapika perked up. "I know! He's coming to my first ultrasound. I'm going to schedule it today." He looked at Kuroro. He was looking for any sign of displeasure on his face.

"Is that important to you?"

"What?"

Kuroro put his fork down. He sighed before lacing his hands together under his chin. "For Illumi to be there? Can I also be there?"

Kurapika shook his head. "It'll only be Illumi." Eyes glazed over. "It's our special moment. I was there for his."

Kuroro closed his eyes.

"You can be at the next one. This is your kid anyways." Kurapika said. Still surprised that he's pregnant in the first place.

Kuroro opened his eyes slowly. Kurapika felt his heavy gaze, stopping midway to put the food in his mouth. "What?" The blonde said.

Kurapika couldn't distinguish what Kuroro was thinking.

"How do you feel about being pregnant?"

Kurapika finishes putting the food in his mouth. While chewing, "I expected to be married first." He nodded, thinking to himself of his ideal pregnancy. "But life is unexpected and you aren't unpleasant. Otherwise it would have taken Hisoka more effort to convince me to go on a date with you." Hisoka showed him a picture, and he had to hold himself back internally. Kuroro had all of the looks that made him swoon, but the power added that extra spice.

Sex was fantastic, and debating with him was fun.

Their kid would be a genius.

"I've had my eye on you for a while. Hisoka was doing me a favor by asking."

"I didn't know that." Surprise in his tone. Kuroro seems like the type to not look at someone with long term interest.

Kuroro unlaced his hands with a smile. He started to eat again. "Let's focus on your nest. I'll give you my credit card."

"I can use my own money." He argued.

Kuroro smirked. "Yeah, but think of the kid. Save yours and use mine."

"I'll use my money."

He let out a resigned sigh. "It will be here, right? You seemed to like the idea last night."

He did like the idea. Very much so. Kuroro's stupid smell all around him constantly, and in deep comfort. He felt like he was being manipulated, so he'd pay so when he left, he could take everything when the time came.

The nest was temporary.

Or at least the child would have his scent in the home when Kuroro had time with them.

"Yeah." He rubbed his eyes. Feeling like taking a nap. "But can I shop later?"

Kuroro reached out over their meals, taking Kurapika's hand from his eyes, curling his hand around the other younger man's. "I mean it, I want to be heavily involved. Even the things you may find insignificant."

Kurapika wasn't used to relying on others. He rather keeps up the appearance of perfection to not be a bother. "I won't promise that." He said honestly. He looked at their connected hands. "Though I can feel your sincerity. So I'll bump you up over Illumi, but below my mother since I am carrying your seed."

"I'll take it." He squeezes their hands.

Feeling an urge of affection, puts his fork down. "Feed me." He orders.

Kuroro almost had his food in his mouth. Unsure if he should feed himself or listen to the blonde. He huffed a laugh, deciding to direct the food on his fork into Kurapika's mouth.

After clearing his plate, Kurapika left the kitchen to nap in Kuroro's bed. Kuroro rewarmed his food, using satisfaction as his companion.

_______

Illumi awoke from a hand caressing his back. His hair was spread out all over the bed, Hisoka preferred it that way. The older man liked to play with his hair as he slept.

He rubbed his face deep into his pillow, slowly waking up. The curtains were closed, only a sliver of the sun peeking through.

His body twitches under the cold fingers of his fiance. When he turned his head to face Hisoka, his hair turned with him. Sliding along the edge of the mattress. "What?" He croaked.

Hisoka's hair was wet. He could smell the fresh aftershave on his skin. Hisoka was nose to nose with him, the man liked to share a pillow with him. "Got tired of waiting." He kissed him. "Good morning."

He curled his arm around Hisoka's neck. Tugging him closer. "Morning. Did you check on Silvia?"

"She's fed. Last time I checked the monitor, she was playing with her feet."

He groaned. Kissing Hisoka again. "She still won't take a bottle from me."

"I wouldn't either." He moved his hand from Illumi's back, gliding it along his skin to his nipple. Resisting the temptation to pinch it. He gently rubbed his thumb around the areola. "From the source is better."

Illumi instinctually flinched. Hisoka has taken advantage of his freshly awoken state before. "I guess. Mother has been saying I should wean her soon."

His mother has been very vocal about what's best for her grandchild.

"Please do what's best for you and Silvia. Five months is still a babe."

Hisoka was an orphan, adopted at eight into the Phantom Troupe. He and Kuroro grew up together. The Troupe originally wanted Hisoka to be Kuroro's rival, to turn him into a respectable leader, and to kill a trader when the time came.

Hisoka was ordered to kill Kuroro's secretary at the time, and he was waiting to be killed by Kuroro. He didn't fight when Kuroro came for him, had a sword in front of him with his head bowed.

Kuroro took Hisoka home, telling him he killed his Father, and Hisoka was blessed with a spider tattoo of a smaller scale on his thigh.

"She'll suck me dry until she's a kindergartner."

"So would I." Kissing Illumi's forehead.

Illumi playfully bit Hisoka's chin. "When are you leaving for work?"

Taking his hand out of Illumi's shirt, he curled his hand around the back of his neck. His other hand went under Illumi's waist, sandwiched between him and the bed, pulling him closer. Illumi knew the routine, and threw his leg over Hisoka's hip. "Whenever you tell me to go."

"Must not be a busy day."

"It's not."

"Then stay home."

They kissed again. He had a firm grip on his neck, pushing his tongue further inside. "Can I work for two hours, and then come home?"

"Work from home." Illumi urged. Pulling his mouth away from Hisoka's. He tugged the blanket tighter around them. Up to their chins.

"Oh no. I cannot escape." He said with playful sarcasm.

"Damn right."

Moving his hand into the long dark locs, he raked his fingers. Root to tip, being mindful of the knots. "I can make it an hour and a half, if I leave right now." He looked at Illumi lovingly. "I'll bring you your favorite meal back."

"Can we go out instead." He's been home for five days straight. Illumi caressed Hisoka's cheek.

"We can."

Illumi smiled. "I believe we have a deal."

Illumi liked to make deals.

Hisoka ended up not going to work.

When Illumi finally left the bed, he went into the shower, and Hisoka grabbed Silvia from the crib to watch Illumi together prepare for the day.

An hour went by before he notified Kuroro that he wasn't coming in. Kuroro sent a picture as a response of him and Kurapika at Target.

He knew to steer clear of Target.

Illumi's outfit was a seafoam crop top with matching pants set. Hisoka braided his hair before getting dressed himself in an all white outfit. White slacks with a red belt, and white sleeveless turtleneck.

At the restaurant, Silvia sat in her carrier babbling at the bird sitting on the window sill on the other side of the glass. Her bottle hung loosely in her hands.

As they waited, they talked.

He was curious. "How do you feel? Kuroro's having a baby." Illumi was looking at the menu as he spoke. His foot was rubbing up and down Hisoka's leg under the table.

Silvia was next to Hisoka on his side of the booth. He petted her head. "I'm neutral, but all that matters is his happiness."

Illumi couldn't tell. Kuroro kept his emotions close to him.

"How do you feel?" Hisoka asked.

Illumi put the menu down. Leaning back, arms crossed as he thought. "Excited." He shrugged. "Being pregnant alone sort of sucked."

"I can get you pregnant right now." Hisoka purred.

Illumi raised his hand to stop that train of thought. "If there are more, I want time in between."

"Think we'll be married by that time?" Hisoka looked into the crowd in the restaurant.

Illumi looked at the side of his fiance's face. Hisoka didn't like to make eye contact with him when he brought this conversation up. "We might."

"Might." Hisoka whispered to himself.

The waitress came over to take their orders.

Illumi resisted a sigh. "I've been thinking of a destination wedding." He's been playing with the idea since Silvia was born, but keeping it close to himself, not wanting to get Hisoka's hopes up.

They could discuss it more.

"Ireland?" Hisoka looked back at him. A smile not quite reaching his eyes was on his face.

"Think Ireland can offer a traditional Japanese wedding?"

"With the money we have. We can make them do anything."

He wonders if the Phantom Troupe has relations in Ireland.

Sliding his sandal off, he dragged his foot upward to Hisoka's clothed cock. "You'll give me anything I want, right?" He tilted his head, demurely.

Hisoka's breathing slowed, eyelids heavy. "You get me off at the same time the waitress brings our food, I'll buy land in Ireland and build a traditional Japanese home."

He adjusted his pressure, to stave off Hisoka's orgasm. "Deal."

#sheep33hallow #hxh #hisoillu #illumi zoldyck #hisoka #kurapika #chrollo lucilfer #kuroroxkurapika #kuroro lucilfer #kurokura #fanfiction #mpreg

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cali-holland · 5 years ago

Text

Risky Quizness- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anon: meeting tom at one of the pub quizzes he goes to at his local pub, he and his mates need more people on their team to sign up, so they asks you and a couple of your friends to join, you and him connect. Xxoo

Prompt: When you meet Tom at a pub quiz, sparks fly between the two of you.

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Huge shoutout to @saysomethingspiderman for being a major help with this one. I’m hella American and never experienced a pub quiz before lol aka brits dont hate me for this

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Damn it.” Tom muttered, looking at his phone with a frown.

“What?” Harrison asked, sitting next to him at the table with their two pints.

“Harry just texted me. He’s sick.” He replied. “And Sam’s with his girlfriend and you know mum would never let me take Paddy.”

“So it’s just us then?” The blond let out a sigh.

Pub quizzes weren’t much fun with two people. Normally, they’d go with Tuwaine, Harry, and Sam- sometimes even Sam’s girlfriend would tag along, but Tuwaine had a family thing come up, and now the twins had bailed.

“We could always try to find someone to join our team? Right?” Tom offered weakly, and his friend shrugged.

“We’d have to find people willing to actually join us.” He stated and Tom nodded. The pub was already filling up with hopefuls for the pub quiz, there was no way they’d find others to team up with them-

“You can’t do a pub quiz with two people! It just doesn’t work like that!” You let out a frustrated groan as you passed by Tom’s table with your friend. And just like that, a light bulb went off in Tom’s head as he jumped after you.

“Hey, wait!” He called out and you and your friend paused, turning to him skeptically as you held your drinks.

“You only have two people for the quiz? My mate and I are also a team of two. Did- did you want to, maybe, join us?” Tom asked, realizing how stupid it sounded to ask that out loud- to ask a couple strangers to be on his team for a pub quiz. Your friend looked at you and you contemplated it for a moment.

“Sure, but we better win.” You stated, following a triumphant Tom back to his table (much to Harrison’s surprise). You sat down in an empty chair, leaving one open between you and Harrison, and Tom slid into it.

“I’m Tom, and this is Harrison.” He introduced the two of them.

“Y/N, this is Jess.” You replied with a smile. The quizmaster quickly made his way around the pub, handing out a sheet of paper to each of the teams.

“What should our name be?” Tom asked, looking at the paper in front of him.

“Risky Quizness.” You said simply and Jess let out a laugh beside you.

“Risky Quizness?” Tom and Harrison both repeated, and you nodded.

“Every time we’ve used that name, we’ve won the pub quiz.” You stated.

“That’s because the only time we’ve won it was our name!” Jess added, and you rolled your eyes at her.

“We still won. Maybe we wouldn’t have been second last time if our name was Risky Quizness, not Universally Challenged.” You picked up the pencil from the table and grabbed the paper from in front of Tom.

“Risky Quizness, like the Tom Cruise movie?” Tom asked you, a small smile on his face.

“I’m writing it!” You announced and Jess groaned, but the boys just laughed.

“In case you couldn’t tell, she runs the quiz.” She teased.

“Shove off.” You groaned, “I’m competitive.”

“How many of these have you won?” Tom inquired. He honestly wasn’t sure how well he and Harrison would do with their usual team; by the end of the night, he would have always had enough beers to be a bit hazy on how many he actually knew on his own. He wanted to do well though because who didn’t love winning? And he also may have wanted to impress you a little.

“Just the one.” You mumbled, not wanting to fully admit it, “But we keep coming in second. There’s this group at our usual place called Let’s Get Quizzical and they win every single time. So we’re here in hopes that they won’t be.”

“What about you two?” Your friend asked.

“We’ve won a few times, but honestly, I don’t remember if I got any of them right.” He laughed.

“So, it’s up to you then, blondie.” You joked, and Harrison smiled with a grimace. “You two are lucky you’re attractive.”

Before either could respond, the quizmaster began to speak, announcing the general knowledge round. Some were easy questions like name the longest river in the U.K., complete the line from Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” (which you knew immediately), and how many hearts does an octopus have (that one you and Harrison got in a heated debate about whether it was two or eight, when Jess stepped in as the marine biologist to tell you it was three).

The next couple rounds went by smoothly, the four of you working together to make sure you got the right answers. By the time you were on the final round, the movies round, you felt fairly confident that your answers were like 90% right (you still weren’t sure if you trusted Tom and Harrison in saying that the DeLorean in Back to the Future had to hit 88 to time travel because you definitely thought it was 85 like the year the first movie came out).

“Which Star Wars character gets namechecked in Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom?” The quizmaster asked, making the four of you pause.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that movie.” Harrison stated.

“Yoda?” Tom suggested, thinking it was a fairly iconic Star Wars character.

“It’s Obi-Wan.” You said as you wrote down the answer. “I just watched the movie like two days ago, and trust me, you’re not missing out if you haven’t seen it.”

“Two hours I’ll never get back.” Jess shook her head with a sigh.

“That bad?” Tom asked and you both nodded.

“The worst.” You shuddered just thinking about it.

Though that question stumped Tom and Harrison, it wasn’t until the last question of the round that you really didn’t know the answer.

“Last question. This sequel film is the 10th highest grossing superhero movie of all time.” The quizmaster read off the question, and you turned to the rest of your team, unsure of the right answer.

“I don’t know? Captain America?” You asked, wracking your brain for any good superhero sequel films you’d seen. You watched Harrison try to nudge Tom inconspicuously, who was blushing beside you. He mumbled something to you, but you couldn’t hear it at all. “What movie?”

“Uh, Spider-Man: Far From Home.” He spoke up louder, the blush on his cheeks darkening as he shot Harrison a glare.

“Oh, right, never saw that.” You replied, and Tom laughed nervously.

“You really never saw it?” He asked.

“Nope.” You shook your head, “I don’t even think I saw the first one, honestly. Not that big of a Spider-Man fan.” As you wrote down the answer Tom had given you, you missed him sending a look back to his friend, trying his best not to be slightly offended by your words.

“You should watch them. They’re really good movies.” Tom said with an encouraging smile when you looked back up at him, ignoring Harrison’s kick under the table. It wasn’t until then that he realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, and it was the best thing ever for him; you were treating him like just another random guy who invited you to join his pub quiz team.

The quizmaster announced the end of the quiz, and everyone went over their answers. Much to your familiar disappointment, your team ended up second again.

“Maybe, it’s just you.” Tom teased you as Harrison and Jess went to go get more drinks.

“Rude.” You playfully scoffed, though you were still a bit upset by the loss. “Maybe if you had known that Wisconsin was the dairy state then we would have won.”

“You didn’t even know that one!” He refuted. It was true- the American geography round just about wiped your team out. Tom shifted a bit closer to you, leaning on his arm, flexing it almost, “So you think you’ll be back at this pub for next week?”

“I think I could be convinced to return.” You replied slyly. Before Tom could ask for your number, you already had your phone unlocked, sliding it over to him. “Here.”

“You already knew.” He chuckled, handing you his phone in return. You both typed in your numbers and switched phones back.

“That one Spider-Man question. How did you know that?” You asked, thinking back to all the sigh’s the erupted throughout the pub when the answer was revealed- most had gotten it wrong, so how did Tom know so quickly that he was right?

“I just know.” Tom shrugged in an effort to play it off.

“You know off the top of your head the 10th highest grossing superhero movie of all time?” You eyed him suspiciously.

“They said it was a sequel, so it had to be either that or Incredibles 2.” He joked, but you weren’t too amused. He leaned in closer to you, creating an intimate distance between your two faces, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What, are you Spider-Man or something?” You asked teasingly, but his smile never faltered.

“Yeah, I am.” Tom replied. You laughed before you realized the complete seriousness in his voice and his face.

“Seriously?” You managed through a fit of laughter.

“I really am! And you said you didn’t like my movie.” He teased.

“I said I never saw it.” You corrected him. “That has to be cheating for it to be your movie as the answer.”

“No, it definitely isn’t.” He shook his head with a laugh.

“How much did it gross? How much?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows at him jokingly, “You check the box office daily, don’t you?”

“I do not!” He protested, chuckling, “And it made over a billion, thank you very much.”

“Did you drop your pants for that to happen or something?” You quipped, and his face heated up. You gasped, “You didn’t!”

“It was just for one scene and I had my underwear on!” Tom insisted, “You’d know that if you saw the film.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll watch it- both of them.” You laughed.

“How about I quiz you on them next week?” He joked, and you groaned.

“No, that means I’d have to pay attention.”

“Fine, I won’t quiz you on them on one condition.” Tom rested a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in closer to you. You raised your eyebrows at him, telling him wordlessly to continue, “Go on a date with me?”

You nodded, laughing as you spoke, “Yes, but I gotta say, I really thought you were going to make me watch your own movie with you.”

“Trust me, darling, we can do that, too.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 6 years ago

Text

Black lace and property damage

Summary: With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side. Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: SMUT, 18+. Sweet sex, awkward sex, some dirty sex, some sex on a car. Basically sex. Swearing. Bucky wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. My sketchy automotive knowledge.

A/N: This story is sort of an ode to anyone struggling to make time for your person. Life gets busy, so don’t be afraid to get creative. Also sometimes sex goes smooth and perfect, but often it comes with mishaps and giggles. Both ways are great, Bucky says just roll with it!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

The porch light above the front door is out.

Was he supposed to change that before he left?

“I’m not touching it Bucky, there are spiders up there. Big ones. The kind that give you rabies.”

“Spiders don’t have rabies.”

“No one’s ever proven that.”

Dammit. Yeah, he was.

Picturing you stumbling up the porch, using the pathetic flashlight on your phone to light the way, Bucky feels like a world class, Grade A jackass. He needs to make it up to you.

Good thing he has plenty of ideas for that.

“Please be home,” he mutters, “please be home, please dear god be fucking home.”

Fingers crossed, he kicks the door open and calls out a hopeful hello.

An empty echo returns.

Bucky blows out a frustrated breath.

Figures.

Slogging down the dark hallway, he slings his bag on the kitchen table with a thud. Grenade pins, bullet casings, fun size candy bar wrappers, and handfuls of beer bottle caps rattle loose in the army green canvas and he grimaces.

One of these days, maybe, just fucking maybe, he’ll convince Natasha to stop using his bags as her garbage bin.

Ignoring that disaster zone (a problem for future Bucky), he wanders over to the sink, where he spies a small tableau on the counter. Propped up beside his favorite coffee mug, the one with sparkly pink letters proclaiming “Bitch, I’m Fabulous”, is a folded piece of paper, his name scrawled across the front.

He flips it open.

“Hey Bucky Bear. Don’t let your sexy ass fall asleep before I get home, I have a surprise!”

Drawn under your bubbly letters, he finds two stick figures entangled in an outrageously lewd sex act. Tracing tender fingers over the very obviously male stick figure (you never were very subtle), he grins so hard his cheeks ache. Leaning on the counter, he sniffs the letter because he’s a sentimental sap and it smells like your Cherry-Almond lotion, and drops his head in his arms.

“So tired,” he whines softly, voice muffled against sleek granite.

Three weeks. That was the last mission. Three weeks, even though Steve guaranteed Bucky three days max. Of course, two days into the mission Bucky remembered that Steve Rogers is an accomplished liar, so instead he spent three exhausting weeks dodging bullets, rewashing all his underwear, and hysterically rationing his bag of fun size candy bars.

Finally home, he wants to forget everything and sink into the post-mission domesticity he dreams about when he’s stuck in some dank motel on the corner of Fuck This and No One Cares. The routine is simple. A scalding hot shower, burrito wrapping himself in the feather duvet, making out with you for a few hours, taking a break to eat some pizza, and then fucking you so hard he breaks the brand new headboard he made for you last month (actually the third headboard he’s made...a fact he smugly reports to anyone and everyone).

And after all that fun, he wants to sleep. Maybe two full days. Or five. Tops.

Is that asking too much?

“No,” he sighs out loud. “It’s not.”

Carefully folding the cartoon and your sweet message, he kisses the paper and tucks it in his back pocket.

No way he’s falling asleep before he sees you. Nope. Nada. Negative. Totally not happening.

Pepping himself up, he goes to work, whizzing through his homecoming task list.

Blood-stained tac clothes go in the washer with three cups of bleach. Guns and knives are wiped down and polished. The contents of the dirty green canvas bag are unceremoniously trashed. The spider infested porch light is changed (with only three furry sightings). The shower is set to a blistering temp and he hangs out in there for an hour, soaping his hair into a foamy mohawk, belting out a few showtunes with his shampoo bottle microphone.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, he flops on the bed with his Starkpad and opens up Netflix, searching for something to keep him awake. Several scrolls later, he finds Brooklyn 99 and settles in for a laugh.

Confident in his ability to resist the appealing pull of sleep scratching at his brain, he takes a slurp of the Super Double Big Gulp sized coffee on his nightstand and stretches his eyes wide open.

Staying awake. Piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, Bucky’s fast asleep.

*****

When his eyes pop open, the room is dark. He feels tipsy, sleep drunk on his first uninterrupted hours of rest in weeks.

Beside him, he feels the cozy pressure of another body. Glancing down, he finds you curled under the sheets at his side, your face smushed against his arm, steady breaths fogging the gleaming metal.

Asleep.

Bucky grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut. One thing. You asked him to do one thing.

God. Dammit.

Furious with his lame old man ass, he almost wakes you up. Almost. But then he swallows that desire and thinks.

Before he got married, Bucky read every relationship advice book under the sun. He gets the importance of keeping the romance alive. He knows you need to cherish your person, make them a priority, shower them with love. He knows. He gets it. He watches Oprah, for fuck’s sake. Relationships take work.

But lately? This is life.

With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side.

Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Although, he muses, eyes lingering on the innocent curve of your mouth, the chaos has forced both of you to get more…creative.

He grins.

It was you who instigated it the first time. He was lying in a dingy motel bed when you nervously offered.

“Hey, um…do think maybe you’d…like…would you…uh…”

“Spit it out babe.”

“Doyouwannatryphonesex?”

An anxious slur so fast, he nearly misses the question. He remembers that beat of hesitation, before you dove in headfirst, telling him in obscenely explicit detail exactly what you wanted to do to him. He was so shocked he dropped the phone and had to naked crawl under the grimy mattress to fish it out.

He must’ve jerked off five times that night. Replaying your filthy words. Remembering the quiet whimpers as you came on your fingers, gasping out his name. What a treat.

Sexting soon followed, accompanied by a plethora of nudes. None from you of course, because as you always remind him, you’re a lady, but Bucky? He gets irrational joy from sending them. They come in a variety of close-ups and poses, several which Sam accidentally discovered when he walked in on Bucky prancing around naked, searching for his best angle.

Sam always knocks now.

But sometimes words and pictures aren’t enough. Sometimes you need the soothing weight of someone in your arms. The scent of sweaty skin beneath your nose. Hot breaths of pleasure in your ear and the touch of a cool tongue licking across a heated body.

Sometimes he just needs you.

Could he wake you up? Sure. He knows you wouldn’t mind, you’ve told him a thousand times. But he also knows how tired you’ve been, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake, selfishly stealing those bits of recovery you need.

So instead, he searches for something to keep him occupied.

He tries reading Game of Thrones again and gets nowhere. Thinks yet again someone needs to get George R.R. Martin an editor.

He flicks on his phone and covertly watches PornHub on mute. Seriously debates whether he can get away with jerking off while you’re sleeping because hey, Bucky Barnes is nothing if not stealthy.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries to see how long he can hold his breath. He gets 2 minutes and 8 seconds (a new record) before giving up.

In the end, he rolls onto his side stares intently at you. Wills you to wake up on your own. Come on baby, please.

But nothing works, and when sleep still doesn’t come, he decides to be productive. Crawling carefully from the bed, he smothers a laugh when you curl instantly into the warm mattress dip of his body, burrowing further under the blankets and unconsciously stealing his pillow. Most mornings Bucky wakes up hanging off the bed, no blankets or pillows to his name, while you’re swathed in comfort, cold toes shoved beneath his belly.

Maybe he should be annoyed. Except every time he looks at you, he forgets how to scowl.

Love is weird.

Rummaging silently through the closet, he unearths a threadbare pair of jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, slips into his worn leather boots. He drops a light kiss on your forehead, brushing a finger down the curve of your neck. Smiles to himself when you snuffle a quiet snore.

And he heads out the backdoor, down the weatherworn brick to the garage out back.

It was an added bonus when he bought the house. An unanticipated domestic perk. Hell, he never thought he’d find someone would actually date him, let alone someone who wanted to marry him and buy a house with him and accept his penchant for hoarding things in a rickety old garage (come on, I grew up in the Depression and I need this, he whines every time you take him to Target).

Thank god you said yes. He’s the luckiest jerk in the world.

Flicking on the garage light, Bucky still gets a little thrill. The entire place is an homage to eclectic, random artifacts, from the box of ugly 1970s vases he found at a flea market, to the fishing equipment he insisted on buying and has yet to use, to the sack of broken seashells you drunkenly collected on your honeymoon in Costa Rica.

In the midst of the swirl sits his pride and joy. Cherry red paint, black leather seats, a tad dusty, full of potential.

The 1969 Camaro looks like a teenage wet dream.

He remembers the day he brought it home, that surge of macho pride when your eyes lit up. After you slapped his ass and told him how sexy the car was, he reveled in your admiration for maybe 10 seconds, before hauling you back to the house and under the sheets. Took several hours before you both came up for air.

That was a good time, he thinks dreamily.

The car attracted his friends as well. Sam and Steve brought over a celebratory case of beer and stood by while Bucky explained the changes he had planned. Steve gave a few sage nods, while Sam helpfully threw out words like fuel injector now and then. Neither had a fucking clue what was happening, but Bucky graciously let them fake it.

Tony also saw the car once. Got a fervent gleam in his eye and started to say the phrase jet fuel, before Bucky ushered him out the door. Tony doesn’t get to see the car anymore.

There are still plenty of fixes to make, but for tonight he takes it easy. Flips on the ancient radio perched above the workbench and flops down on a rolling seat, sliding under the Camaro to tinker around. He goes to work, lets the crackle of the radio and the mechanical puzzle lull him into focus mode.

So intent on the task at hand, he barely hears the garage door opening.

The click of a shoe alerts him too late and he freezes, gripping his wrench tight. Muscles tense, garage floor plans and fight scenarios flooding his brain.

“Bucky? Do you have a sec?”

His breath whooshes in relief at your voice. A silly grin bubbles up because you’re finally awake, until he tilts his head sideways, peering out from under the car to see your feet.

Black high heels.

Stomach sinking, Bucky closes his eyes. Back to work then. Motherfucker. He missed his chance again.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, he croaks out a plea.

“Hey babe, do you gotta go back to the office so soon? Can you just - “

Click click and you step between his legs. Firm hands clutch the oil stained fabric at his knees and you pull. The seat rolls easily and he slides free, squinting up at you in the dim light.

The words die on his lips.

Black high heels, yes.

And.

Lacy black underwear, the sides held together with thick satin ribbons. A lacy black bra, your breasts threatening to spill out.

Gorgeous, devilish smile.

Fingering the wide satin bow between your breasts, you tease a light tug and Bucky starts sweating like a virgin on prom night. His wrench slips from numb fingers, thunking him in the nuts and clattering away.

“Shit,” he grunts. There’s a moment of confusion on whether the fresh ache in his balls is from the punch of the wrench, or tantalizing swathes of skin before him, but then you say his name and he figures it out pretty fucking fast.

“Hey Bucky Bear,” you purr, in that raspy voice he loves. “Still want that surprise I promised?”

Palming himself roughly, Bucky adjusts the suddenly tight front of his jeans, eyeing you with a lusty smile. Fuck yes, he wants his surprise. He wants everything about you.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“I have some ideas,” you say playfully. Stepping closer, slipping your fingers into his silky hair, he leans into the touch. “And I promise we’ll get to them. But first, how about you stay down there and maybe show me how much you missed me?”

Torn, Bucky looks down at his oil stained fingers. They spasm, clutching the edge of the seat so tight the metal bends. His voice drops several octaves.

“Babe, I - shit, I’m gonna kill the mood here, but my hands are all dirty, I should wash ‘em first,” he apologizes. Rolling your eyes, you shift closer until the edge of his nose is a mere inch from the delicate lace panties.

“I’m not asking for your hands, soldier. You have a mouth. Get creative.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. Sassy and domineering? And nearly naked?

Hell yes, his dick shouts. Here we fucking go.

Warm and cool, tentative fingertips press into the smooth skin behind your knees, stroking higher until he’s plucking the satin ribbons and pulling. It feels like Christmas morning when the knot slowly breaks apart, whispers of satin and lace floating to the ground.

Nosing against your core, he inhales, long and deep. A low growl rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips tight and heat explodes across your skin when his tongue presses into your folds, licking over your clit.

“God,” your moan is dark, desperately breathless, “keep - that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, please, been way too long.”

Bucky gives a fervent nod of agreement, strands of his dark hair tickling your thighs. When was the last time he did this? Nah, you know what? If he has to ask, it’s been too long.

From now on, the only correct answer should be every damn day.

He feels you moving his head, guiding him exactly where you need him most, and he hums hungrily. Shoves his tongue deeper. He adores when you take charge, using him, his mouth or his fingers or his dick, to get yourself off. He loves it, dreams about it, wishes you would let him film it just one time (because sometimes missions last three weeks not three days Steve).

But until then, he devotes himself to making it perfect because you deserve perfect.

Fast, firm flicks of the tongue. Long, leisurely strokes, licking you slow and sweet. Rough pressure, his plush pink lips sucking tight around your clit. So good.

Your eyes fall closed as his tongue moves faster, quicker, pushing you closer closer closer -

No, that won’t do. Cold metal lightly pinches your ass, a bid for attention. Chest heaving, you open your eyes.

Bright eyed and eager, Bucky gazes up from between your legs, looking thoroughly debauched. White t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, dark hair mussed in your fingers, an obvious erection straining his jeans.

So close, you’re so close, right on the edge, just another second -

He knows, of course. Could always play you like a fiddle. He cocks a challenging eyebrow, sucks your clit between his teeth -

“Oh god, Bucky, fuck,” you moan. Weak knees buckle and his hands clutch your ass, keeping you upright and open. He never stops licking, swirling that talented tongue to draw out the bursts and shocks of pleasure until you’re gasping. When he’s wrung every drop from you, he kisses the sensitive bud and tips his head back with an arrogant smirk.

Legs like jelly, you promptly collapse into his lap.

The momentum of the fall sends the rolling seat flying. Busy being chivalrous and keeping you from tumbling headfirst onto dirty concrete, Bucky lets the wheels send him whizzing backward. His head smacks the door handle with a sharp thwack.

“Ow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” you pant. Struggling for breath, wrapped in the haze of post orgasm bliss, you cuddle against him, soaking up his warmth. “Want me to rub it?”

Massaging his head, he wrinkles his nose. “Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering to rub.”

“Dealer’s choice,” you sass, and Bucky barks out a laugh. Wandering hands skim lightly over your shoulders, fingering the straps of the lacy bra, feather light trails along your collarbone, to the satin bow between your breaks. Tugging impatiently, he smiles when it unwinds, your breasts spilling free.

“Well, how about I take my pants off, we get in the backseat of this car, and you rub whatever you find.”

“Intriguing. What happens after I finish rubbing whatever…pokes my fancy?”

Bucky dips his head, takes your nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The feel of his wet mouth has you squirming closer until he pauses to offer an option.

“Maybe we fuck like a couple horny teenagers?”

“You’re killing me with the romance here, Barnes,” you say drily and he chuckles. “But I was maybe thinking something different.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Licking a lazy strip between your breasts, he kisses up, up, up, until his tongue finds the hammering pulse of your heartbeat. Bemused, he hears your voice falter, before bravely offering your idea.

“I was thinking maybe I sit on the hood of your pretty red car, and – and you spread my legs and fuck me so good, I can’t walk for a week.”

Startled, Bucky pulls back. Excitement explodes in his chest.

“You - really? Seriously? That’s what you want?”

“Yep,” you confirm, palpable relief at successfully executing the dirty request. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Bucky plants a sloppy kiss on the tip of your nose. Wiggles his eyebrows and winks.

“Well god damn. You got it sweet cheeks.”

Wasting no time, he pushes off the ground and you kick your heels off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He huffs out a blissful moan when you suck a string of hickeys down his neck, grinding against you as he stumbles to the front of the car. Without thinking, he drops you on the shiny red hood and -

“Cold!”

Icy metal meets your bare ass. There’s a panicked scramble back into his arms and he manages to catch you, until your flailing upper cut cracks his jaw. It sends him off balance, tripping forward to smack his kneecaps on the Camaro’s fancy new grill. A grating screech tears the air and the grill rattles to the floor, the metallic clang bouncing off the walls.

Flinching, you peer up at him as it fades away.

Bucky’s nose twitches.

In all his fantasies (and there are many, because you are one sexy piece of ass), this shit never happens. Every sexcapade is effortlessly smooth, sensual and steamy, where you both look great, not a hair out of place, no oil-stained hands or unintended destruction of expensive vintage cars.

In reality, it seems like something always goes sideways. One of his nipples gets gouged by your fingernail or the silk from your negligee gets caught in the plates of his arm, or one of his perfectly aimed thrusts sends you both toppling off the bed. Sometimes he wonders if this is just the two of you? Do other people have perfectly orchestrated sex lives? Is porn not a true mirror of real life?

Is porn a lie?

Maybe he should watch more porn and form a more educated opinion.

For now, he takes in your crestfallen expression, vehemently shaking his head when you try to apologize.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I -“

Holding up a stern hand, he stops you cold. Sets you on your feet, gallantly whipping off his shirt, and spreading it on the shiny red paint. This time when he sets you on the hood, you lay back until the familiar scent of his cologne hugs you close. Bucky lifts your feet, propping each on the hood, spreading your legs open. He leans in close, a pink flush spreading over his chest, crawling up his throat, blue eyes turning dark.

“Listen to me. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You’re worth more than this old junker.” A crooked smile tilts his mouth, his voice as soft as the lips now brushing yours. “You’re priceless. You understand?”

“Okay,” you murmur. Fingers dance lightly up the hard planes of his stomach, wrapping around the chain of his old dog tags. “I understand.”

Bucky nods, watching your eyes drift down, drinking him up. He lives for that look. Sets him on fire, to watch you ogle him. When your eyes skate down his right side, he flexes his forearm a bit, because he knows it turns you on.

A swift tug of the chain and he dips easily, mouth slanting over yours. There’s a faint sound of teeth clacking together, and he stifles a laugh at your excitement. Deep kisses, stoking that simmering fire sitting right below the surface. Your lips part and he slides inside, curling his tongue around yours, pulling away to lick along the corner of your mouth, to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

The thought appears, same as when he had his mouth between your legs. How long has it been since the two of you just made out like this? Same answer? Too fucking long?

This is definitely happening more often.

He feels your eager fingers reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open, slipping your hand inside. Cool fingers wrap tight around his cock, the other hand wandering down to squeeze a handful of his ass. Bucky hurriedly shimmies his pants to his knees, sets both hands on the car and leans forward, tipping his face down, touching his forehead to yours. Blue eyes flutter closed, breath hitching while he concentrates on the feel of your capable hands, slow strokes along his length, slicker with each tug.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he grits out. “Can you - damn that’s good - can you, there, bit lower -“

Ragged pants melt into a low groan when you slip your hand from the death grip on his ass to cup his balls, rolling them against your palm.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes, fuck yes, just like that,” he hisses, thrusting into your hands. “Can you - can you pull just a little-“

He stammers the question, ignoring your amused hum. It was a quirk, one he discovered early in the relationship. It came out of the blue, a bashful request during a romp in the sheets, but for some reason, Bucky has a thing for having his balls tugged. Not hard (which was also discovered after an unconsciously rough yank had him squealing in pain), but more of a soft squeeze, followed by a slow pull.

Like how you squeeze an overripe banana, he had explained later, gingerly massaging his balls. Not so hard it squishes.

Many entertaining attempts later, and he swears you have the move patented. Stroking his dick faster, your thumb presses over his balls, before a careful pull. Tipping his head back, Bucky stares glass eyed at the ceiling, lost in pleasure, pushing himself into your firm grip.

“Feel good?” you murmur.

“Yeah. Yes, so good, so god damn good ,” he chokes out. Faster, harder, faster - and then a strangled gasp and panicked blue eyes catch yours. “Wait, too good, it’s too good! Don’t wanna come yet, hang on! Need to be inside you first.”

He grabs your wrists, the thwarted sting of a denied orgasm obvious in the grind of his teeth. Both of you look down to where your hands are wrapped around him, one still kneading his balls, the other curled around the velvety hot skin of his cock.

“Okay,” you say, looking him up and down. “Fine, but - you’re so sexy, Bucky. And I love your balls.”

Bucky nods furiously, gulping a deep lungful of air. His ass cheeks are twitching.

“I love that you love them, I really do. But babe, I need you to let go of my balls or I’ll come all over your hand,” he rasps, wiggling away. Releasing him, your hands run up his chest, twining around his neck, dragging his sweat damp chest flush against you.

“If I must,” you agree, smiling into his lips. Bucky relaxes into you, the slow melt of tongues follows, the kind where a kiss bounces around, until it finds the perfect rhythm. His hands trace up the line of your arms, unlocking your fingers and pulling them free. Brushing his thumbs over your wrists, he bends close, kisses your knuckles.

And then he folds your arms above your head, pinning them down.

“Keep them there, alright? Don’t move until I say you can.”

“Kinky. Yes sir,” you breathe. He smirks.

“You’d better watch it, you little deviant. I might get used to that.”

“Sorry…sir.”

Pulling you further down the hood, he rubs his cock between your legs, sliding himself between your folds until a slick sheen coats his skin. It startles a grunt from you when he abruptly shoves inside, sinking deep until his hips press flush to yours.

He waits. Has to wait actually, because its been a long damn time and if he’s not careful he’s going to embarrass himself before he even gets started and holy shit, is this even real life? Is he dreaming?

Splayed out on the hood of his car, legs wide open, breasts wet from his tongue, black lace and crumpled satin ribbons. Arms pinned above the luscious skin bared just for him. Bucky stares between your legs, dry mouthed and dizzy.

“Come on, Bucky, please? Fuck me, please fuck me, I missed you so much.”

How could he ever resist this? You naked, writhing against the vivid red of his Camaro, moaning for him to fuck you, with his cock buried in your -

“Aw fucking hell,” he mutters. After so many weeks apart, he knows full well this won’t last long. It’s a damn good thing he has more than a few rounds in him.

Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders back, he digs thick fingers into your thighs, pulls back nice and slow. He waits. Waits. Waits a bit longer because he likes to be an asshole and hear you beg.

“Bucky, come on -”

And he plunges into you, burying himself in the tight, silky heat of your cunt. Warm up over, no slow start. The pace he sets is rough, so deep he feels the pleasure licking down his spine and into his toes. Over and over, he slams into you until one particularly sharp thrust presses the tip of his cock against that perfect spot inside and you arch up with a broken cry. Hands scrabble above your heard, searching for anything to hold onto, finding something flexible.

With a plastic snap, the windshield wiper blade breaks off in your hand.

Bucky stutters to a halt, blinking sweat from his eyes when he sees the look of horror on your face. The apology is still forming when he snatches the plastic from your fingers, throwing it aside.

“Don’t care,” he grunts. Giving you no time to argue, he wraps his hands behind your knees and raises your hips, fucking into you faster. The filthy echo of sweat slick skin accompanies his breathless order. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.”

A frantic agreement and one hand slips between your legs, the other cupping your breast. Frantic circles over the swollen bud, trembling fingers plucking at a pebbled nipple. Bucky watches greedily, eyes flickering back and forth, memorizing those things that bring you pleasure, fantastically dirty memories to replay on a rainy day.

“Bucky,” desperate fingers rub your clit faster. “Keep going, please keep - keep doing that, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m -“

Sharp and sweet and unexpected, the orgasm crashes into you. Arching up, the low moan tears free, and Bucky slows, hypnotized by the sight of you shuddering beneath him.

“There you go, that’s it,” he urges hoarsely, before surging forward and capturing your lips in a wild kiss. Two more pumps of his hips and he stops, grinding against you until he comes with a heavy groan.

Silence fills the room, broken only with the sounds of harsh breaths and the wet rush of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rests his forehead between your breasts, listening to the staccato beat of your quick breaths, until you struggle up onto your elbows, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

“So I broke your car.”

He says nothing, but a moment later his shoulders begin to shake and suddenly he’s laughing, great rushing wheezes as he struggles for breath. Raising his head, he finds you nervously squinting down at him. He stretches up, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I got insurance. Just need to check my coverage for mildly destructive ‘I missed you’ sex.”

“You might consider expanding that policy. I’m just saying,” you suggest with a giggle and he snorts.

Quiet contentment blankets the stuffy garage, both of you basking in that tingly afterglow. Folding your hands behind his neck, you draw him close and Bucky nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Been tough lately,” he whispers, mouthing gently along your throat. “Trying to find time together.”

Nodding slowly, your smile turns wistful.

“Yeah…guess it makes any time we get even better. Right? It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Bucky feels a lump in his throat (the kind that could easily dissolve into manly super soldier tears), and he gathers you in his arms, tucking you against his chest. When he answers, his voice cracks just a bit.

“Someone’s a sentimental sap.”

He hears your muffled laugh against his chest, feels you bite at his collarbone and he chuckles.

“I love you Bucky. And I’m really sorry I murdered your car.”

“I love you too, babe. I’m glad you came down here. Especially in that outfit.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Fuck yes I did. What spurred that idea, hmm?”

“I just don’t want to lose our spark,” you admit, snuggling closer. “When things get so busy, it’s easy to let things like this slide, and I don’t want you to - get bored, I guess. With us.”

Bucky thinks about all his relationship advice articles and the fact that he sometimes even prints them out and goes through with a yellow highlighter to capture the key points. Hearing your soft concern makes him fall even more in love with you.

Because this is important. This relationship, this love, this spark he was lucky enough to find with you, it’s the most important thing in his world. You are the most important thing in his world.

Brushing a knuckle down your cheek, he coaxes your chin up.

“I know it’s tough, always being on different schedules, but I want you to know, I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna want you. Nothing changes that. And if you ever doubt just how much I genuinely want to bang you all night long, then you say something. Deal?”

He boops your nose and you grin.

“Deal.”

“And honey, not that I’m complaining, trust me, but you don’t need to dress sexy to get me all reved up,” he shrugs. “You do that just by looking at me.”

“You do know how to charm the pants off a lady, Barnes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Swings you up in his arms and calms your startled yelp with a kiss.

“Damn straight. Now how about we give that backseat a try. I think you mentioned wanting to rub something back there?”

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bitsmasterlist

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rosesgonerogue · 5 years ago

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I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Seven

Tim shouldn’t have felt nervous about his fitting, but his stomach had been in a state of unrest since the moment he walked in and saw her in the kitchen. Just seeing her brought a whole barrage of emotions he didn’t know what to do with.

“Listen to Alfred,” she reminded her son as she pulled off her apron - not that he would need the reminder.

“Shall we?” Tim asked, offering his arm. Marinette didn’t miss the blush dusting his cheeks, but she also did her best not to draw attention to it, thanks to the matching one she was sporting.

They walked for a few moments in silence until he said, “So do I need to be blindfolded, or do I get to see the suit so far?”

“You get to see it. Now is when you tell me if you want me to change anything. It’s not done, by any means, but you’ll get the general idea.”

He had practically spent his entire life in suits at this point, so in theory Tim should have known what he wanted, or even had some idea of what he was looking for - and he did, if he was just picking one off of a rack. But this was MDC. Of course it would be per-

“Um, I know you’re the fashion expert, but don’t most suits have a lining? Or something like that?”

“The lining is going to be a surprise. Right now we’re looking at the fit, the style… Basically this is when you tell me if you hate it,” she said, handing him the garments before leaving the room.

Obviously the clothes were unfinished. The pant legs were unhemmed, the suitcoat’s seams were exposed inside, and there was untrimmed thread everywhere. But as Tim put it on, there was a warmth that accompanied it. Something about the suit just felt right. He wore a stupidly satisfied smile when he let Marinette back in.

She immediately began circling him, eyeing the whole thing critically, occasionally commanding him to raise his arms, or sit down, or something similar. Finally her face cleared. “I only see a few minor adjustments that need to be made. Do you have any requests, or notes?”

“Well, I would like it to be lined,” he teased. “But other than that, this is the best suit I’ve ever owned.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” she said with a smile.

Tim deliberated for a second before saying, “Listen, Marinette. I don’t know if Bruce brought this up to you, but I - we would like to invite you to the Wayne Gala. Childcare is provided for any who wish it, and it’s a masquerade, so you could potentially meet some new clients without compromising your anonymity.”

It wasn’t what Tim wanted to say - the words “date” and “plus one” kept pounding through his mind.

“I’ll have to figure out a dress, but I would love to,” Marinette said with yet another smile. She was quiet for a moment, looking down before she met his eyes again, hers filled with resolve. “Before the gala, though, would you… You can say no, and this will stay strictly professional. But would you like to go on a date with me? It would just be to coffee, since I don’t have anyone to watch Leo, but-”

“Yes!” Tim said eagerly, too eagerly. He cleared his throat before saying in a more subdued tone, “That would be wonderful. I would love to join you.”

If Tim thought her smiles were bright before, now they were positively blinding. “Perfect. It’s a date.”

************

Marinette couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit shy after that, but as her hands deftly pinned his suit, every fiber of her being sang with excitement. She had to keep it professional, though! At the moment she was on a job.

Before she could say something and promptly put her foot in her mouth, she sensed a presence, confirmed by the sharp sound of a backpack hitting the floor. It seemed Damian was back from school, then. In a way she appreciated the presence of someone else in the room, but any relief he supplied was killed when he had to go and open his mouth.

“So you’ve decided to use Alfred as a babysitter now?” he asked in that cold, superior tone of his.

“Sir Pennyworth offered, and I gratefully accepted,” Marinette said, carefully pinning exactly where Tim’s suit coat needed to be taken in. “I can assure you that my aim is not to take advantage of anyone.”

Based on her research, Damian Wayne hadn’t had an easy life. There was little to no information on what his life had been like with his mother, but he resembled a wild animal, suspicious, snarling, and scarred. He may finally be comfortable with his family, but it was clear he felt that Marinette was a threat, and it was doubly clear that he would use whatever means necessary to drive her away.

But that was no excuse for what he said next.

“He’s a valuable tool, isn’t he? People probably jump at the opportunity to give more than the asking price to the poor single mother with the adorable child. Or were you legitimately unable to keep his father? You-”

Damian was cut off by Marinette’s hand slapping loudly across his cheek. She shouldn't have moved so quickly, it was almost beyond the average human’s capability, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“I don’t care what you say about me, I’ve heard it all before. But don’t you dare bring Leo into this. Since you’re so hell-bent on tormenting me with this, I’ll tell you. Leo doesn’t have a father.”

Tim felt his heart stop at the look in her eyes, equally feral and wounded. Meanwhile Damian seemed… confused. It had to be at that very moment that Jason and Dick stumbled in from taking care of a hostage situation. Dick made to greet everyone, but Jason stopped him, taking in the icy atmosphere.

“That’s nonsense, one way or another he has to have a father,” Damian sneered, losing a bit of his icy facade.

“No, Leo does not have a father. There was a man once that took more from me than should be allowed - he took until he broke me. Leo is not that man’s son, he was the only thing the universe could have possibly given me to make up for what was lost. That man has nothing to do with Leo.”

“Damian, you need to apologize to Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Dick said, face stormy now that he had somewhat of a grasp on the situation.

Marinette simply held up a hand. “There’s no need, Mr. Grayson. I’ve been called everything he insinuated before, and that was just by people who were supposed to be friends. But mark my words, Damian Wayne. If you ever insult my son again, there will be hell to pay.”

The silence and tension in the room was palpable, and Marinette fought to push down the little part of her that found their fear both satisfying and amusing. Instead she straightened her cardigan and said, “Each of your suits are over there. Go try them on.”

If she had to hide her smirk from seeing all three of them fleeing with their suits, well, that was her business.

Taglist:

@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64 @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous @zotinha456 @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @somebodyspersephone @spider-person95 @zestyzealot @toodaloo-kangaroo @kokotaru @kurogaya913 @tis-i-beanbandit @annapointone

Note: We're getting closer and closer to the end, but this might not be the last that we see of Leo! I keep getting more and more ideas about what he would be like when he was older, so don't be surprised if this fic becomes a series. Last chapter I had an issue with the tagging, so sorry if that was an issue for y’all. As always, just let me know if you want to be added to the list! Thanks for reading, let me know what you thought!

Edit: FYI, I really debated on whether or not to put in Marinette’s little scuffle with Damian, but I ultimately decided that it’s a good character building moment, blah blah blah. (It’s self indulgent, like this entire fic. I thought it was an interesting moment, so it stayed.)

#maribat #timinette #marinette x tim

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spideyykid · 4 years ago

Text

I posted 737 times in 2021

54 posts created (7%)

683 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 12.6 posts.

I added 317 tags in 2021

#peter parker - 64 posts

#tony stark - 52 posts

#spideyykid - 40 posts

#irondad and spiderson - 38 posts

#what if spoilers - 31 posts

#fanfic - 20 posts

#spider man - 19 posts

#marvel fic - 18 posts

#iron dad - 18 posts

#marvel - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#i mean knowing marvel if he was in this episode he’d probably would have slipped on some spilt alcohol and died

My Top Posts in 2021

I’m sorry but Captain America wouldn’t have been a better mentor for Peter in the MCU. Sure- I agree that Peter would have been more torn about the Accords if he had all the information, but Peter’s whole thing is “responsibility over personal self”.

Spider-Man has always been a character riddled with the guilt of a death he could have prevented, and spends his entire life trying to rectify that choice- feeling responsible for the well-being of others. This is reflected in almost every version of Spider-Man, and is shown in his first ever appearance in the MCU:

“When you can do the things that I can, but you don't, and then the bad things happen? They happen because of you.”

Tony’s entire motivation with the accords is responsibility, and Peter’s guilt is directly mirrored with Tony’s- something we see at the start of civil war with that women blaming him for her child’s death. Tony needs to fix- needs to protect, and to him- as flawed as it may be, the accords are a way to do that.

So here we have Peter Parker- a tech genius who creates web shooters out of scraps and was given insane powers at 14 and used them for good instead of becoming popular. He’s a snarky kid whose impulsive and wants to do good so god damn bad but keeps messing up, keeps hurting the ones he loves and becomes too obsessed with a suit that makes him feel invincible.

You’re telling me the best mentor for this kid is Captain America- just because they both are New Yorkers who were given powers? Their motivations are entirely different- and the way they go about doing things don’t match up.

Tony and Peter come from completely different backgrounds, and on the surface level- are different people. When you look at the core of who they are, how they act- why they do the things they do- Tony is the person who can understand Peter in a way the Steve would never be able to.

People like to criticize MCU Peter for being “Iron Man Jr.”- but he isn’t, not at all. He’s not a sidekick, not dependent- the whole point of Homecoming is that Peter doesn’t need Tony’s tech to succeed, nor his permission to be a super hero. Far From Home worked to show us that Peter would never be the next Iron Man- because Iron Man is his own thing, and Peter is Spider-Man- a hero in his own right. Peter is the Legacy- not a copy, and not Iron Man’s legacy, but Tony Stark himself. The most telling and raw way to show that as a concept, and it was sitting right in front of us.

114 notes • Posted 2021-08-21 17:37:52 GMT

I enjoy how collectively, as a fandom, we’ve decided that Tony Stark definitely calls Peter Parker “Bambi”- someone said it and we all went “absolutely right sir” and now it’s in every fanfic

124 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 05:42:32 GMT

Bro I JUST want the MCU to acknowledge that Bruce Banner and Wanda Maximoff also had a part in creating Ultron, not just Tony Stark

AND out of that trio, the only one with bad intentions was Wanda- she may have redeemed herself in the end, but she was the villain in this situation- and she bears almost no consequences for her actions.

Honestly if it was the other way around, and Tony took advantage of a traumatized Wanda and got in her head that she needed to protect the ones she loved and lead her to an infinity stone that he knew would cause death and destruction- NONE of you would be debating who the bad guy was.

Tony was a victim, did he fuck up? Yes- and I’m not saying he was completely blameless- but Jesus Christ is him being labeled a “monster” and “Ultron’s only creator” SUCH a bad take.

145 notes • Posted 2021-09-29 14:20:57 GMT

I have a headcannon for the marvel zombie episode, that the only reason Happy willingly was a part of the “zombie survival guide” video is because Peter was initially devastated over losing Aunt May and Mr. Stark- and Happy knew it would cheer him up

250 notes • Posted 2021-09-08 16:03:40 GMT

In an alternate (better) timeline the Avengers take one look at Peter- a short brunette with brown eyes that’s super snarky, rambles on and on, is a literal genius who tinkers with tech in his spare time and invented both web shooters out of scraps he found in dumpsters and a new chemical compound in his classroom without the teacher noticing. Who has the biggest guilt complex imaginable and throws himself into danger without thinking and is incredibly impulsive, a bit of a loner who doesn’t always work well on a team but tries so hard-

It’s just a constant battle of “I don’t know if Peter is Tony’s kid and at this point I’m too afraid to ask.”

521 notes • Posted 2021-08-28 01:10:56 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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ao3feed-peterparker · 9 months ago

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Unto Failed Retirement

#IFTTT #peter parker #spider-man #spiderman #marvel #the avengers #ao3 #ao3feed

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 9 months ago

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Unto Failed Retirement

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/okaFdgr by merelyimmaculate Spider-Man is dead. Or retired, if one is to believe the conspiracy theorists on the internet, not that it is as debated a subject as it should be with the multiverse collapsing and squashing two inherently different universes into one. Not that any of that is part-time Daily Bugle employee Peter Parker’s business. Excepting that it might be. With his newest assignment relating to ‘The Merge’ and Karen’s investigation into a string of murder’s connected to Spider-Man, Peter states on the record that the retirement of Spider-Man seems to be coming to a fast-paced tumultuous end. Words: 1866, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, DCU, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Karen Page, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU), Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, J. Jonah Jameson, Harry Osborn, To Be Updated - Character Relationships: Karen Page & Peter Parker, Harry Osborn & Peter Parker, Batfamily Members (DCU) & Peter Parker, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker-centric, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dimension Travel, Comic Book Science, Suspension Of Disbelief, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Identity Reveal, Peter Parker is Retired from Spider-Man, unsuccessfully read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/okaFdgr

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the caped crusader #the dark knight #dcu #ao3 #ao3feed

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mylifeiskara · 6 years ago

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Happy Holidays*, Have a Fic Rec List!

So I realized recently that even though I didn’t start interacting with people until like September, I got back into The 100 last January, even if it was mostly just scrolling through the tags to see what was going on. I’ve been absolutely floored by the writing talent in this fandom, and everyone I’ve interacted with has been so warm and welcoming, which has only encouraged me to write more. So to mark my almost a year of being a lurker and as a fun sort of holiday present to everyone for being so nice, I thought I would go through all my bookmarks and AO3 history and find some of my favorite fics I’ve read this year and share them, complete with commentary somewhat like the way I leave comments on AO3! I’ve read so many more amazing fics than just these ones (which is surprising because I’m a really slow reader), so thank you to literally everyone who writes for this fandom, because you’re all superstars! I get so excited every time someone shares something new, and my marked for later list just keeps getting longer.

This list is mostly Bellarke, but there’s also a couple Murven and one Memori. It’s also abundantly clear that I read mainly modern AUs, so I didn’t bother separating canon things from modern things, but I did separate the complete works and the WIPs. And if I don’t know someone’s Tumblr, I’m just gonna link their AO3 profile!

*I’m pretty sure only one of these fics has to do with a winter holiday, so sorry if that’s misleading!

Complete

Your words on my skin by not_a_total_basket_case Bellamy/Clarke, Rated G (Multi-Chapter) This is the first The 100 fic I ever read, so obviously it has to go first on my list. I don’t read many soulmate AUs, but I liked that soulmates communicated to each other through notes on their skin. The whole thing is just so soft, and I’ve read it a bunch of other times since my first reading. Also bonus points for Clarke and Bellamy being absolute idiots in love.

Feels Like Reckless Driving When We’re Talking by Chash Bellamy/Clarke, Rated E (Multi-Chapter) In this one there’s an age swap, so Bellamy is younger than Clarke, who’s a single mom in her 30s. Bonus points for the presence of Murphy and Emori to help get Clarke out of her head and out of the house so she can meet Bellamy, a hot younger man!

so i sing a song of love by @hiddenpolkadots Bellamy/Clarke, Rated M (One-Shot) This is my comfort fic! I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read it, but it’s one I keep going back to. I love a good friends with benefits complicated by feelings, and also in this case, pregnancy.

I’ll always wear the crown that you gave me by bellamysgriffinprincess Bellamy/Clarke, Rated G (One-Shot) Best friend’s brother is one of my favorite tropes, and I really love the evolution of Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship throughout the story.

Talking with You in the Dark by @bettsfic Bellamy/Clarke, Rated E (One-Shot) This is like “oh my god they were roommates” adjacent (since they’re neighbors), which is what I like about it. I think I’m just a sucker for stories where Bellamy and Clarke’s relationship kind of evolves in a very natural way. Also the simple ask of wanting to share a bed with someone because you’re lonely is such a mood.

the naked truth by @kombellarke Bellamy/Clarke & Murphy/Raven, Rated E (Multi-Chapter) Speaking of “oh my god they were roommates”! This fic has so much great angst! It’s probably the angstiest thing on this list! I’m not sure if I can adequately put into words my feelings about this fic, other than it’s great, and I feel like everyone’s read it already, but here it is so you can read it again!

guess it’s never really over by @captaindaddykru Bellamy/Clarke, Rated M (One-Shot) I love how even when Bellamy and Clarke are divorced, they’re clearly still so in love. It’s why the idea of them having another kid together didn’t sound absolutely absurd to either of them, and that’s the tea.

You Should Still Take Me Home by @eyessharpweaponshot Bellamy/Clarke, Rated T (One-Shot) This has many things I love, which are fics about New Year’s, friends with benefits, and a college setting. It’s the dream! And it’s really cute!

Here’s What I’ve Got (The Reasons Why Our Marriage Might Work) by @marauders-groupie Bellamy/Clarke, Rated T (Multi-Chapter) I have been trying to come up with the words to describe the way this fic made me feel literally ever since I read it, but my God, I still feel like what I say wouldn’t do it justice. Also there is a very particular word I’m searching for that I have yet to land on. It’s so beautifully written, and I love stories that begin after the couple has broken up. Also they’re actors, and I love a celebrity AU!

Potions et Patroni by chants_de_lune Bellamy/Clarke, Rated T (One-Shot) I love anything to do with Harry Potter or Hogwarts, so adding Bellarke to the mix was just right up my alley. If you haven’t noticed, I really love watching/reading the natural evolution of a relationship, which this fic does a great job of. Also if I were a student at Hogwarts, I would have thought Professor Blake and Professor Griffin were a couple the moment I stepped foot into the school.

starry eyes and galaxy minds (we’ll be dancing on the clouds at night) by @pawprinterfanfic Bellamy/Clarke, Rated M (One-Shot) If Bellamy were Spider-Man, I too would fall in love with him, solely based on his voice. When he removed his mask, him being incredibly attractive would just be an added bonus.

Eons With You by @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold Bellamy/Clarke, Rated G (One-Shot) Another great soulmate fic I stumbled upon! I feel like I’ve never gotten into soulmate AUs until this fandom, but that’s just truly the only way to describe what Bellamy and Clarke are to each other? So yeah, this one has reincarnation and the time periods that are in it are so vivid and great.

And in Other News... by @jeanie205 Bellamy/Clarke, Rated T (Multi-Chapter) News anchors! Who make the most perfect team on the planet! There’s some angst, but this is great fluff. And more bonus points for Clarke and Bellamy being idiots in love.

Rock Bottom by @detectivebellamyblake Bellamy/Clarke & Murphy/Raven, Rated E (Multi-Chapter) Wowee, I love so many things about this fic! Clarke and Murphy are my brotp, so I think that’s why I clicked on it to begin with. I hope to have a group of friends like this when I’m in my mid to late 20s, so I guess I’ve got a couple more years to get working on that. I also love that everyone ends up owning up to the shit they’ve done wrong and growing, which is something we don’t always get to see. And there are such cute moments between so many characters!

Burning Cities and Napalm Skies by @jarleene Murphy/Raven, Rated M (Multi-Chapter) Honestly, don’t remember how I found this one, but I’m so glad I stumbled upon it. I’m really only into Murven in AUs (as I’m low key Memori trash), but this fic just had me hooked. Also as someone who wondered if the show would ever question having to repopulate the human race, I was very on board with the concept. Dare I say bits of this more sense than the season 6 we were actually given?

feat. by Debate Murphy/Emori, Rated T (One-Shot) Please forgive the fact that I called myself Memori trash, yet there is only one Memori fic on this rec list. (But also, if anyone wants to rec me some Memori stuff, literally send it all my way!) I love musician AUs, so I was immediately sold on the idea of Murphy admiring Emori’s band’s music and wanting to write a song with her. It’s just so cute!

WIPs Not as many of these, because I can only follow along with so many unfinished things at a time, but these are ones I’ve been keeping up with!

If the Right One Came Along by @useyourtelescope Bellamy/Clarke, Rated M Another celebrity AU, with a side of friends with benefits! Bellamy is a famous historian, and I am here for that. Literally peak nerd, I’m so proud of him. I really enjoy Clarke and Bellamy’s dynamic as they have to figure out how to be friends again after naturally drifting apart when he moved away. And it feels like each subsequent chapter gets cuter!

All Because of You by @burninghoneyatdusk Bellamy/Clarke, Rated E It’s another best friend’s brother fic! This time with a pregnancy! I really enjoy that this story switches back and forth between the past and the present, so we get to see moments of Bellamy and Clarke when they were teenagers/baby adults, and we get to see them be amazing co-parents in the present as well.

The Hungry and The Hunted by @octaviadblake Bellamy/Clarke, Rated T As I said before, I love musician AUs, and I’m so absolutely pumped for more of this story. I’m a huge fan of Bellamy and Murphy’s dynamic. The 80s setting works really well, and I’m already preparing myself for the coming angst.

someone let the poets out by @kindclaws Bellamy/Clarke, Rated M Another actor AU! But this time, actors gone rogue! This fic is also really cool because it’s mixed media, so there’s little tweets and Tumblr posts and whatnot throughout, so I’ll give you the same recommendation the author does to not read this one on mobile.

That’s all I’ve got for now. But happy reading!

#the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke fic rec #the 100 fic rec #fic rec #this was fun to curate #and if anyone wants another at any point in time #hit me up and let me know

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