#five sentence/one word prompt challenge

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

For the one-word prompt challenge: Sirius Black - Fireworks

Thank you for sending the ask and prompt Chris!

"It's as if they know that he's gone," Sirius commented as the two of you watched the fireworks from the window.

"Fudge did tell the Prime Minister." You reminded him, leaning into him and resting your head on his chest.

"Now we can live." Sirius breathed while wrapping his arms around you and holding you close.

[killerpancakeburger]

PULL ME CLOSER

SUMMARY: After a mission gone wrong, Soap narrowly cheats death. When visiting him in his hospital bed, overwhelming relief emboldens you, making you do something you regret. So you flee, resolved to avoid Sergeant MacTavish until the end of your days. 

But Johnny is done letting you slip through his fingers.

Part 1. Part 2.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (reader has boobs, that's it)

TAGS: A pinch of angst, then tooth rotting fluff, Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Depressed!Reader, inexperienced!Reader, Desperate!Soap, Soft!Soap, mutual pining, first kiss, confessions, dirty talk, making out. Bit of a chase, but it's fluffy. Protective!Ghost bordering on controlling but he works on it. Swears, blood mention, injuries, miilitary inaccuracies, suggestive content.

WORDS COUNT: 5.6k

A/N: aaaAAAH F I N A L L Y! ITS KISSING TIME BABEYYY 💋 For @glitterypirateduck COD Vacation Mode challenge, prompts 32 with Ghost and 58 with Soap.

"Hey author, this is Soap x Reader, why is Ghost there...?" Because he just! Won't! Leave! 🙃 *you can now picture me trying to push him out of the room with all my meager strength but he doesn't budge an inch* 

As you pace around the office for the umpteenth time, you can tell from the glint in Ghost's eyes that he's seconds away from telling you to take a seat and stop writhing uselessly. 

When did you become so accustomed to the taciturn Lieutenant's expressions - or more accurately, lack of -, that you could figure out what was going on behind the mask? You couldn’t remember.

He's been keeping his gaze on you since you've sat down after learning the harrowing news; or, more exactly, since he's sat down and you've been fidgeting relentlessly.

You're feeling like a shark - to stop moving won't kill you, but it will cause the whole world to come crashing down. It will allow reality to become clearer, sharper, inescapable.

The arrival of Price in the room captures his lieutenant's attention before he can scold you. Gaz follows close behind. He offers you a reassuring smile before his captain addresses you.

“He's going to make it.”

Relief overwhelms you with just those five words; a colossal wave close to sending you tumbling down. Ghost's mask fails to hide his own calming.

Price sets his hands on his hips. His voice is gruffed but composed.

“All he needs now is rest… and some blood.”

“I'll do it,” you blurt out resolutely, taking a step towards your boss.

“No,” snarls Ghost, tone adamant.

You snap around to stare at him in shock and disbelief. He never raised his voice at you before. And, most importantly, he never tried to dictate your behavior. 

“Who do you think you are?! I'm not one of your fucking recruits-”

Price loudly coughs in his fist.

“Easy there.” 

He raises both hands in appeasement. “We don’t even know if you're compatible.”

“I'm a universal donor,” you counter immediately, determination unaltered.

“Course ya are,” scoffs Ghost derisively.

You glare at him with open animosity. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

“What is that even supposed to mean!?”

You throw your arms up in irritation.

“Enough! Both of you.”

John's tone extinguishes your shout with redoubtable efficiency. He's already not someone you would dare cross on casual days, but hearing him raise his voice makes you sheepish.

Nonetheless, you turn towards him, outraged and betrayed. "Both"!? Why both!? I'm not the one being an asshole for no reason!

“You've done this before?” the captain asks, looking at you.

You nod vigorously.

He indicates the door with his chin.

“Fine, then. Go see the nurses to set you up.”

You bolt out of the room without further ado, determined to not let Ghost get another word in. But you can still hear one last sentence as you hasten.

“As for you, Simon…It is none of your business.”

Giving blood has never been a walk in the park. Every time, you have to actively handle your nerves; resort to trusty relaxation methods, such as focusing on your breathing, or counting the tiles on the ceiling.

The stab of the needle is unpleasant, to say the least, but the wait between the jab and the removal is almost as challenging.

Nonetheless, you've done this before, you succeeded, and for Johnny, you'd be willing to do it for hours.

Power of will doesn't compensate blood loss however, and when you get up from the bed, you feel dizzy, your bandaged arm sore and stiff. The idea of meeting with Soap shortly helps you power through, and soon enough you’re sitting at a table in the canteen, empty at this hour of the day, stuffing your face with whatever snacks and drinks have been put aside to aid your recovery.

With nothing but concern for Johnny busying your mind, you end up eavesdropping on a couple of nearby cafeteria employees.

“You think that's really him?”

“Ain't that many guys going around with a skull mask.”

“I heard he killed a man with only a pen…”

Your eyes widen at the mention of a mask, and you groan in annoyance before turning around to see where the staff is looking.

Near the entrance, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Ghost is watching over you like an overzealous bodyguard. He finally swapped his mission outfit for his trademark black hoodie and grey sweatpants. 

Exasperation flashes through you and you proceed to fling at him a cake wrapped in plastic. Your aim's never been anything to be proud of, but he's large enough that you manage to brush his shoulder.

“Get away from me, you creep!” you yell loud enough to be heard by him.

He gives you an inscrutable gaze before leaving the room, probably settling right on the other side of the door, not one to admit defeat so easily.

Minutes later, you leave the room to visit Soap, and observe with spiteful satisfaction that you were right - Ghost adopted the same position as before, against the corridor's wall. You glower at him as you pass by, and of course he remains unfazed.

You scoff with irritation before deciding to ignore him and focus on Johnny, accelerating the pace.

“Wait.”

You halt with a vexed sigh.

“If you intend to berate me again, I'm not gonna stand there and take it.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

You pivot to face him, exasperated by his sibylline remarks. He moved away from the wall and approached you while you had your back on him.

“Once again, what is that even supposed to mean?”

His cryptic attitude makes your blood boil with anger, one that could almost mask the feelings of hurt and betrayal he begets inside you. At some point, you've genuinely started to believe that you two became some kind of friends. Turns out that you've been naively imagining things this whole time.

“The whole self-sacrificing bullshit.”

You stare in incomprehension, searching his concealed features vainly for a clue, wishing you could rip that stupid mask off his face.

“I'm not sacrificing myself. It's just a bit of blood.”

He crosses his arms.

“We have stocks for that. And it's not just that. When he got into trouble with Price for making you skip work, you tried to take all the blame.”

“He did it to cheer me up-”

He keeps talking like you didn’t intervene.

“And when he pummeled that officer, you pretended it was all your fault.”

“I-”

“Luckily for you, Price's no sucker.”

You wince with distress.

“I just wanted to help. I hate being… feeling useless.”

“That's my problem. I swear it feels like you’d slash your own wrists if you thought it would ‘help’.”

You grimace but do not contradict him. It's actually kind of scary how much he figured you out.

“Let him take responsibility for his actions. He may look impulsive most of the time, but he knows what he's doing.”

Arms folded, you gaze fixedly at the floor in silence, not knowing what to add.

“I’m sorry.”

He talked loud enough to be understood, but the content of his sentence makes you doubt what he said as much as if he whispered. You stare at him with wide eyes, speechless. It's not that you categorically believe Ghost incapable of self-reflection, but at the same time, he's always striked you more as the type to never admit any weakness - except maybe in front of a trusted superior and longtime friend like Price.

“Shouldn't have tried to boss you around. Only made things worse. What happened with Johnny… made me…”

He acts like articulating an apology out loud has on him the effect of enthusiastically biting into a lemon - an irresistible temptation to annoy him emerges inside you. No harm in a little well-deserved payback.

“On edge? Touchy? Cranky? Irrita-”

“That'll do. Go, now.”

You turn away with an amused smile on your lips.

Witnessing the wounded sergeant in a hospital's bed is like a punch to the stomach. Maybe an actual punch would be more merciful.

Inside you, gratitude for his miraculous survival battles against sorrow caused by his pitiful state. An impressive bandage is wrapped around his head, one arm secured in a cast, the other bearing a couple of compresses. His face is littered with scratches and contusions.

When he notices you, frozen on the threshold, he beams.

“How's my little firecracker doing?”

That nickname. That damn nickname. He started using it after he caught you red-handed giving the middle finger to a rude officer who was leaving your office just as Soap was entering it. You tolerated it until you realized it was a reference to his love of explosions and all things blow-able, which made you ridiculously pleased, yet self-conscious all at once.

Your legs were already unsteady, so the complimentary alias almost finished you off. 

“That's my line, you Scottish bastard.” you retort, voice devoid of hostility despite the insult.

Closing the gap between you two with a few strides, you stop at what you consider a respectable distance.

“Why, I'm alive and kicking. No need fer ye to look so dejected.”

You scoff, both annoyed and moved by the attempt to console you. It's unbearable to see him so shattered and yet so upbeat, while you don't have a scratch but came so close to breaking down.

“I hate you,” you mumble.

“Ye love me.”

If you only knew… you wouldn’t dare to joke like that.

You smile ruefully, despite yourself.

“I'm serious. For a moment I…I really thought you… you weren't going to… shit.”

You furiously blink to get rid of the rising tears stinging your eyes, looking away shamefully.

“Hey, hey, hey, c'mere.”

He pats one side of the bed with his free hand invitingly. You obey, positioning yourself near the mattress close enough to touch. He grabs one of your hands and gently squeezes it.

“M sorry.” 

His tone is gruff, maybe a bit abashed. A pang of culpability pierces your heart. 

“What could you be sorry for? You were doing your job. I need to get over it.”

You’re not mine to lose.

“Fer makin’ ye cry. I hate it.”

Why does he have to be so kind?

You persist in trying to prove that you’re the one in the wrong here, not him.

“I shouldn't be crying. You’re the one who went through hell.”

He snorts.

“What's so funny?”

“Not funny, just… Ye didn’t even shed a tear when that bastard jumped ye the other day. Yet here ye are, crying over my sorry arse. Yer somethin’ else.”

The compliment takes you aback, and as his eyes sparkle with nothing but honesty, you fiddle with the bandage you received from the blood donation in a desperate effort to collect yourself.

“What’s that? Ye hurt?”

The concern in his voice warms your heart, even if it is unnecessary.

Soap rises from his pillow to some extent, pain obvious in his restricted movements. You react immediately, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Before you can think twice about it, you set your hand between his pecs and push him back, careful to not harm him, but firm.

“I didn't give you my blood just so you could spill it right away!”

He shouldn't be so easy to put back into his place, even with his wounds. Yet he goes down smoothly, docile under your imperious touch as if he was the unassuming civilian and you the imposing soldier.

His eyes linger on your hand before setting on you, the intensity and the heat of his gaze taking your breath away. His expression is one of surprise, but not of annoyance or revulsion, or at least that's what you hope from what you can read on his face.

Sinking into the lagoons of his eyes, you stare back in a daze. You can feel the rhythmic motions of his well-defined chest under your palm, rising and lowering as he breathes. Suddenly the contact becomes intolerable as your cheeks catch fire. You begin to withdraw but he grabs you just in time.

“Ye gave me yer blood?”

The urgency in his tone takes you by surprise, and so does his expression, one that's contemplating you like you've just announced that you've run in front of a truck for him.

“Price said you needed it-”

“Yer. Blood. We have a stock fer that!”

“I know, I just- I was there and I wanted to do something.”

“And they just let ye?”

“I asked real nicely.”

“Would have liked to see that.”

There's a challenging spark in his eye that you choose to ignore.

“It's just blood,” you mumble, shying away from his gaze, embarrassed by his reaction. You didn’t do this in the hopes that he would express eternal gratitude, nor that he'd be admiring of you.

“It will reconstitute on its own.”

He scoffs, unconvinced. Yet he doesn't sound too mad. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he's looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Let's talk less about me, and more about you, ok? How are you feeling?”

“Parched,” he retorts while reaching for the water bottle on the nearby tray table.

Of course he's not expanding further. Johnny's the kind to dramatically whine over a paper cut for fun but somehow when it comes to serious, life-threatening injuries, he becomes stoically reserved, almost stingy with words.

You almost throw yourself at the bottle when you notice the slight wince of pain in the line of his mouth - despite his efforts to conceal it - and hand it over to him.

“Just ask me if you need something.”

“Oh bonnie, ye dunnae know what yer getting yerself into with promises like that.”

You openly roll your eyes. If he can make that sort of comment, surely he's not in that much pain after all.

“Let me guess: you’re gonna ask me to kiss your boo boos better.”

You regret your jibe the second you finish talking. You were supposed to only think those words, not pronounce them. He's the gorgeous individual who can take the liberty of flirting with anyone, but you… you’re not.

His only reaction is a chuckle.

“Hmm, what if ah did? Ask fer a kiss?”

His tone is provocative, his pout sultry and his eyes pleading.

You stare at him in thoughtful silence, cogitating your answer. 

He misinterprets your lack of response, and backpedals, stuttering while doing so. He starts to apologize, plainly, apparently convinced he went too far, ashamed by his own conduct.

You let him stew in his embarrassment a bit, not out of sadism but curiosity, rarely being granted the opportunity to see him so insecure.

This could be the chance to put an end to his flirting for good. The chance you've been waiting for. It's what you should do.

But there's a part of you that is fed up. Fed up of this pretty man and his pretty words, of this blue-eyed casanova that must see you as another conquest and nothing more. You’re sick of passively enduring his quips, his seduction, his winks, his smirks. So yes, you could ask him to stop.

Or you could give him a test of his own medicine.

Lifting his hand towards your face, you lock eyes with him to be certain he's watching, then tenderly press your lips to each of his scarred knuckles.

The ensuing quiet is deafening.

He half-opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. You never saw him so flustered. Is he… is he blushing?

Somehow, seeing his flush sets your own face on fire. The reality of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Panic surging inside you, you deal with the situation the way you know best when no other solution comes to mind - you flee. Pretending you don't hear Soap calling after you, you scramble out of the bedroom like the devil's on your heels. Ghost, settled on a chair in the hallway, throws you the closest thing he must have to a bewildered gaze in his repertoire as you storm off by him, gaze that you ignore vehemently.

The following weeks are spent visiting Soap only when he's asleep. Kyle is nice enough to let you know when that's the case. You can tell by the interrogative way he looks at you that a bunch of questions rush on the tip of his tongue: what happened, why are you not simply seeing his teammate when he's awake with the rest of them. But he's either kind or polite enough to not formulate his concerns out loud. Or maybe he thinks it's a private matter between the two of you.

Either way, you’re grateful, and you repay the favor any time you can, filling the break room with his favorite snacks, making him tea or ensuring his gear gets maintained first.

At some point Ghost half complains to you, half reprimands you - since Soap is one part of his current problem and you another.

“Fuckin’ hell, never been easy keepin’ Johnny in medical, but since ya visited him he's worse than ever. Care to explain?”

“I fucked up,” you confess, without adding anything else.

“Fucked up how?”

“I can’t tell you.”

He curses loudly, dragging a gloved hand over his face, appalled by your demeanor.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I'm taking my secret to the grave. All I can tell is that I made an absolute fool of myself, and therefore I can never appear in front of Johnny again.”

He half sighs, half groans, and rolls his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You dramatic little…”

Soap eventually gets released from medical.

You spend a couple of weeks avoiding him to the best of your abilities, even though you can tell that Ghost is frankly sick of your antics, Price is five minutes away from berating you, and even Gaz starts to look at you with something that resembles disappointment. 

You actively despise yourself for ruining a perfectly good friendship. Especially because of a five seconds long action decided on a whim and carried out out of spite. You find yourself on the edge of tears a couple of times, yet unable to cry. Familiar rooms and corridors feel empty and awkwardly silent with his absence.

There are a bunch of close calls, and the base, or at least the part of it that you’re accustomed to, suddenly feels cramped.

But you hold on. 

Until you don't.

You're caught completely unaware, entering the break room as usual to get some coffee.

Only to freeze on the doorstep. Johnny's right there. Barely two meters away. It's the first time you lay eyes on him in what feels like forever. You can’t help but drink in the view.

He's sitting at a table, elbow leaning on it, cheek resting on his closed fist. Your eyes linger over the blue cobalt shirt he's wearing, your favorite of his, and his black fingerless gloves, which you've always had a weakness for. The corner of his lips are down, his eyebrows lightly frowned. Staring into space, he seems sullen.

Your heart tightens at the sight.

However you barely get the opportunity to indulge into your guilt, because next thing you know, your gazes meet. He perks up, eyes widening in surprise. You tense like a deer in the headlights, holding your breath. Dread swells inside you. You’re no braver than last time.

You turn around and decamp.

It's fine, you can come back later. You just need to unearth a hiding spot for now. The object of your affliction - on top of your affection - will probably be vexed enough by your reaction that he won't seek to confront you.

Yes, everything is just fine, you assure yourself - for no more than a handful of seconds.

Without warning, brawny, familiar arms close around your shoulders from behind, pinning your back against a muscular torso.

“Gotcha.”

The word is barely above a whisper, more a growl than anything else, enunciated right into your ear, sending shivers all over your body. You don’t find anything to do but clutch with both hands one of the tanned forearms pressed beneath your collarbone.

Fighting him off doesn't even cross your mind. It's not that you think you'd fail - you trust him to let you go at the first stern summon. You just don't want to forgo his embrace. He hasn’t hugged you since that time you've been mugged and one moment was enough to make you realize how much you’ve missed it.

“Dunnae whether to be upset ye ran away again, or to find it cute that ye thought ye could actually outrun me.”

You gulp, heart pounding and cheeks heating up.

“Johnny…”

A host of pitiful excuses accumulates behind your lips, but somehow none manage to make its way out.

He briefly tightens his hold, but the gesture feels more like a hug than a restraint. Did he… did he just squish you? Like some kind of… cuddle toy?

“Got nothin’ to tell me?”

The question is a taunt as much as a hint at reconciliation.

You try to pace yourself, and think logically about this predicament of your own making. You need to devise a strategy to come out - more or less - unscathed of this.

Soap sounds more smug than mad, but still, passably angry. Maybe there's a way to fix this. Be friends again like nothing happened. Maybe he can forgive you.

First, do not worsen things.

Two, apologize. Properly.

Three, keep your fingers crossed …?

“I'm… sorry?”

He chuckles darkly.

“Gonnae take more than that.”

You try to resist the effects this sentence, his husky voice, his proximity, his laugh have on you, the way they make your stomach twist in apprehension and… indisputable arousal. Resist the temptation to close your eyes so you could focus on his voice alone, on the warm breath brushing your skin, on the lips so close to your ear; to let go in his arms, lean with your whole weight on his body.

Focus, damn it, you admonish and beg yourself all at once. On something else. Anything else.

You’re about to argue that he cannot possibly expect you to succeed in making amends when you’re in this compromising position, but you don't get the time.

Johnny hauls you away inside the nearest room. In a split second, he flicked the lightswitch on and nearly slammed the door behind you.

Cleaning products and exiguity surround you, illuminated by a cheap light bulb.

A closet, helpfully supplies your mind. 

You barely have time to digest this information that Soap cages you against the wall, resting his forearms over your head. He contemplates you with a mix of melancholy and longing that renders your knees weak and sends a pang in your chest.

“Been going bloody mad with thoughts of ye.”

His voice is smooth like silk, tone sweet like honey, caressing your ears, warmth dripping inside your chest, making your head spin; or maybe it's a result of his closeness; or a consequence of his cerulean eyes boring into you.

“Ye got any idea how it felt to see ye leave without being able to do a bloody thing ‘bout it? Wanted nothing more than to rip off the tubes, get up, grab ye and lay back in bed with ye in my arms.”

He's intoxicating. He has to be, with how high, euphoric you're feeling, all your problems swept away, insignificant.

“Tell me to fuck off.”

You blink in incomprehension. Drunk on him, you may have lost track a little.

“I'll back off fer good.” 

Bliss makes way to horror.

“Look me in the eye and tell me ye hate me. Tell me I disgust ye. Tell me ye wish ye never met m-”

“No!”

Your shout has the merit to make him stop, even if you didn’t mean to yell. Your scream disconcerts him for a second before an exultant grin stretches his lips. His smugness is back with a vengeance.

“So ye do like me.”

“How could I not,” you mutter, capitulating, but avoiding his gaze.

He refuses to let you, and cups one side of your face to make you look at him. As you meet his eyes again, his thumb tenderly strokes your cheekbone. You feel your insides melt at the gesture.

“I like ye. A lot.”

He licks his lips, as if to grant himself some time to mull over his next words, and you automatically follow the motion.

“And I want to kiss ye. A lot.”

His hand slides from your cheek to your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

“Can I?”

It takes a moment for you to regain your voice. When you woke up this morning, you most definitely didn’t expect to receive a confession from John Mactavish. Your brain goes into overdrive.

Is this real? Am I dreaming?

“Johnny, listen…”

The gaze he's aiming at you glows with hope.

“You don’t want to be with me. I'm…” 

What? A shell of a human being? Broken?

“…a mess.”

Expectation is replaced by resolve in his turquoise pupils.

“I know exactly what I want. And it's ye. Wouldn't be here otherwise.”

His patience seems to unravel with each passing second, as he stares at you with something akin to desperation written on his face.

“Want me to beg? S’that it?”

“What? No-”

“Cause I can. Beg real pretty. Bet ye'd like that. Saw how ye looked at me the other day when I got on my knees for ye-”

He keeps babbling sweet and filthy nothings that set your face ablaze. He saw how you looked at him? Mortification briefly flares up inside you before you notice the amusement in the corner of his lips, the playful glimmer in his glance, tangled with the neediness - he's joking around. You adopt a stern expression to chasten him but quickly realize he's way too busy staring at your lips to get the message. So you grab both sides of his face to get his attention - two can play this game.

The sheepish, sad puppy face he gives you in return barely makes a notch in your firmness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, right before diving into the unknown.

“Yes,” you profess - and before he can tease you for clarification - “You can kiss me.”

But as he leans forward to obey, an incriminating detail surfaces in your mind.

“Wait, wait…”

You cover his mouth with one hand. Then immediately regret it, with how his eyes devour you the way his mouth can’t, not helping your flustered state at all.

He gently grabs your wrist and removes your hand, before pressing a kiss into your palm, your wrist.

“Now, better say something, or I'm gonna kiss my way up.”

He hums pensively.

“Scratch that, I'm gonna kiss ye everywhere.”

Pleasant tingles travel your whole body at that. He looks up from your hand to stare at you, and there's a devious glint in his eyes that tells you he caught sight of it.

“I have never.. done this… before.”

This confession means a lot to you. It's a well-kept secret, as long as people don't already deduce it from your lack of social skills. You’d rather it stays this way, but you don't see how you can start a relationship while withholding this truth.

All you can hope now is that Soap will react in a manner you consider appropriate. If he judges you, if that fact makes you go down in his estimation, or if he starts seeing you as some sort of innocent, naive individual that he could get off on corrupting, you’re not sure you'll be able to recover from it.

All playfulness deserts his face. He observes you with a mix of solemnity and compassion.

“Oh, bonnie… I don't give a shite ‘bout that. We'll go as slow or as fast as ye want, aye?”

Stirred beyond words, you nod your assent.

Not wasting any more time, he presses his lips to yours. They're soft and warm. You expected a surge of unbridled desire, but he takes his sweet time with you, to become acquainted with your mouth. 

It only lasts a moment though; as he seems to gain in confidence and deepens the kiss, his motions fill with fervor, turn frantic. Hunger rivals devotion.

They say the greatest pleasure possible a human being can experience isn’t, well, pleasure; it's the end of pain - and he's kissing you like he's been aching for it, for so long, and he's finally getting relief. He's clinging onto you like the separation of those past weeks put him in severe withdrawal.

You probably would have let him continue if you weren't compelled by the imperative need to breathe. You turn away, panting.

Not interrupted in the slightest, he simply latches onto your neck instead.

Floating in a daze, you absently close one hand on the back of his shirt, and fondle his mohawk with the other.

“Hold on to me.”

The instruction takes a ridiculously long time to reach you. Thankfully, Soap picks up on that and grasps your hands to place them on the back of his neck. You only understand his goal when his fingers slide behind your thighs and he lifts you up effortlessly, wedging you between the wall and himself.

Once he gets his fill of your throat, he sneaks one forearm under your rear and lets go of one of your thigh, somehow managing to keep you in the air one-armed, to tug at the opening of your top.

Seeing him struggle to open your blouse one-handed, you reach down to assist; but just as you do that, he grabs one side of the clothing between his teeth, and pulling the other with his free hand, he rips off the first three snap fasteners in one go. Your eyes go wide, your mind torn between finding the gesture arousing or risible. 

You settle for a fond scoff.

“You animal.”

The name feels all the more appropriate because when he looks up at you, releasing the cloth, the hunger in his eyes is striking, and the wolfish grin he grants you is the one of a ravenous predator.

“You could have just asked-”

“S'faster,” he shrugs, at least as much as possible in his current position.

You barely notice the staple of your bra opening; he hauls you slightly higher, bringing your chest to mouth level, and dives between your breasts like a man starved. The contact makes you tilt your head back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. The sensation of his lips and tongue against your sensitive skin makes you coil: your fingers grasp the back of his shirt and his hair, pressing his head impossibly closer, your thighs clench around his torso, your toes curl.

“Fuck, Johnny.”

He moans your name in response, albeit a bit muffled. He sounds as afflicted as you are, if not more. The idea turns you on terribly.

You look down to see him, and the vision of his face feverishly pressed to your skin is almost unbearable.

Suddenly he recoils, eyes meeting yours, and opens his mouth to stick his tongue out, right in front of your nipple, holding still in silent question. Your crotch throbs with arousal and you bitterly regret your earlier assessment - this view is much harder to endure, by far. The deep, honest eagerness in his gaze, coupled with the absolute submission to your will he demonstrates…

That doesn't stop you from frenetically nodding your head in agreement. His lips close around your nipple and the flick of his tongue against it draws a whine out of you. His free hand softly squeeze your other breast.

If he wasn’t holding you, your legs probably would have given out.

A faraway ringtone painfully pierces through the torpor you’re deliciously lost in. Your ringtone.

Johnny swears under his breath and blindly gropes your ass to silence your phone lodged in your back pocket.

Your eyes snap open in horror as you abruptly emerge into reality.

“Shit, shit, SHIT! Put me down!”

You repeatly hit Soap's shoulders to get his attention and convey urgency, without putting real force behind it. He complies immediately.

Your soles barely reached the ground that you’re already whiping out the device from your pants. Your coworker's name is displayed on the screen. Turning your back on Johnny, you pick up the call in a panic.

“Hey… yes. Yes, I'll be there in a minute. …They're not here yet? Thank fuck.” 

As you sheepishly reassure your colleague that you’ll be there soon for the meeting that should have already started, you feel fingers fiddling with your blouse. Your first instinct is to bat Johnny's hands away, before grasping that he's actually putting your snaps back in place.

“Hm? Oh no, nothing bad. … I, uh… I just got held back. Anyway, see you soon.”

You hang up with shaky hands and a weary but relieved sigh.

The Scotsman's arms wrap around your waist from behind and he lovingly nuzzles his face against yours. His stubble prickles your skin, but the gesture is too endearing for you to spurn him.

“No more running away, aye?”

He exudes peacefulness, every muscle in his body content and relaxed. Where did Ghost's vicious attack dog go and who's this teddy bear?

“No more running,” you acquiesce.

“Good lass,” he purrs.

Normally, you would have gotten back at him for that patronizing comment, but you still feel bad for the way you treated him, so you just grunt.

“We'll pick up where we left off, hmm?”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you realize what he's referring to - his kisses wandering lower, to fulfill the “everywhere” part of the pledge he made earlier.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

[hihomeghere]

Hi can you do 5 and 23 with five? please and thank you !

Word count : 750

Warnings/Tags : Cursing, alcohol, older!Five. I was so happy to get a Five request! Haven’t written for him in so long it was good to get back into his head <3

Prompts : “If you seriously propose that I sit on your lap, I will kill you.", “Are they really just a friend?”

You could feel Five’s eyes boring into the back of your head from across the bar. Trying your hardest to focus on whatever Klaus was rambling about now. Even without the alcohol, his bubbly speech fit right in with the chatter of the intoxicated around you. You sipped your drink, something Lila had ordered for you. One of her favorites, since she couldn’t drink it.

It had become more and more of a challenge to deal with this unspoken thing between you and Five. Especially when you had his brothers and sister-in-laws constantly hounding you. He rested against the bar top, exuding confidence as his fingers curled around the crystal glass in his hands. His right hand laid on his thigh. You caught his eye for a moment, cursing as his familiar smirk tugged on the corner of his lip.

“Y/n.” Klaus said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“I’m listening.” You nodded, turning to look at him, bringing your glass up to your lips.

“I thought you were eye-fucking my brother across the bar.” He chuckled, a wide grin splitting across his face.

“Klaus!” You hissed, taking a step closer to him. Wide eyed as you turned your back on Five.

“What?” He laughed, “I can not tell a lie.” He said, holding his hand up in a fake salute.

“I was not eye-fucking him.” You say, feigning disgust, “Besides we are just friends.” You quickly brought your drink up, taking a large gulp.

“Is he really just a friend?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“You know Klaus, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to agree with Five here.” You said with a shrug, starting to walk backwards away from him, “You need to find some friends that aren’t your siblings.” You said with a teasing smile.

“Who peed in your wheaties?” He scoffed as you walked through the sea of bodies to Five. He greeted you with a smug smile, lifting up his glass.

“Got tired of Klaus?” He asked, raising a brow.

“How could you tell?” You laughed looking for an open chair nearby. His eyes got a certain glint in them, he took a breath clicking his tongue.

“You know-“ He started, holding his arm open over his lap.

“If you seriously propose I sit on your lap, I will kill you.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Just a suggestion sweetheart.” He said with a nonchalant shrug, his signature smug grin on his lips. You lean on the bar top next to him, swallowing the rest of your drink.

“You wanna know what Klaus was talking about?” You asked, hissing as the alcohol burned your throat. Giving you a newfound confidence.

“Enlighten me.” He chuckled

“He said that I was ‘eye-fucking’ you.” You chuckled, heat blooming in your cheeks at your admission. He raised his eyebrows, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Hm,” He thinks for a moment, “I would have thought he would have said that about me.” Your mouth goes dry at his words. You were glad you hadn’t been drinking because you’re sure you would have choked.

“What?” You chuckled nervously.

“Would have thought he would have seen me ‘eye-fucking’ you.” He grinned, his eyes raking over your body.

“Are you kidding?” You sputter, your eyes wide as you stare at Five.

“Do I look like I’m kidding sweetheart?” He asked, raising his brows, that stupid fucking smirk plastered on his face. You blink a couple times, trying to think of a coherent sentence. He sighs, sucking in a breath. “Look, I get it if-“ You cut him off, pressing your lips against his.

He reached forward, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. You stumbled forward, your hand falling onto his thigh. His slacks slick under your hand. His tongue swipes your lower lip, a silent ask for entrance. Which you happily agree to. The smooth taste of his cognac filled your senses as he licked into your mouth.

It was intoxicating, his hands were everywhere, as his tongue delved into your mouth. The rest of the world seemed to fall away, as though you were the only two people in existence.

You two parted, panting as he looked at you through heavy lidded eyes. A boyish grin spread across his lips, replacing the smirk he had earlier.

“I like that drink,” He chuckled, swiping his thumb over his lip “I think I need another taste.”

“I’d have to agree.” You giggled, moving forward to kiss him again.

[runnning-outof-time]

Omggg congrats on 3.5k!! That’s incredible! Duuuude this short prompt blurb challenge is gonna blow up! For me, would you be open to doing one with Tommy, using the prompt sentence, “Look at me right now”? He sure can be demanding when he wants something lolol🥰🥵again, congratulations dear! You deserve all the love!

Oh thank you so much for sending this in @tragiclotus ! You’re so right - he really can be! I hope you like what I did with this, and that you’ve been enjoying the blurbs I’ve been sharing! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find more stories here!

No One But You

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, worry of past lovers returning…nothing too major

Word Count: 1018

Summary: Tommy assures (Y/N) that she’s the only woman he wants after two women from his past reappear in his life.

She must’ve read the return address a dozen times. Why? She didn’t know. It wasn’t like reading it again was going to make the sender’s name change. But yet she did anyway.

(Y/N) knew who Grace was. She’d heard about her; knew what she’d done to Tommy and his family. So why the hell was she sending him letters now?

At first she spoke to Polly, who told her to hide them. As a clerk at the postmaster’s office, she’d make sure to bring any mail the Shelbys received with her whenever she’d come to visit her boyfriend. When she’d arrive at Watery Lane, she’d follow the older woman’s suggestion and promptly slip the envelope into one of the side table’s drawers; hoping that Tommy wouldn’t find them there. But they just kept coming.

And now as she was walking to Watery Lane with what was the fifth letter Grace had sent, she didn’t know if she could keep up with hiding them. So instead she kept it in her hands, re-reading it until she heard the door open.

She stood to her feet at the sound and walked over to greet her boyfriend, accepting his kiss and shoulder squeeze as a greeting. Tommy knew something was wrong the second he pulled away. (Y/N) wasn’t wearing her usual, welcoming smile. Instead, her expression was blank.

“Has something happened?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“This came in to the post today,” she answered him, extending her hand to hold the envelope out between them.

Tommy’s brows furrowed deeper as he scanned over the words written on the envelope.

“Why does she keep writing you?” (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself from asking, desperate to know why he was still receiving letters from her.

She and Tommy had entered a relationship only five months ago, but she was no stranger to the life that he lived and the company he’d kept in the past. Tommy Shelby was sought after by many, and somehow she’d gotten lucky…or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. No matter how many times his actions reassured her that he was hers alone, that nagging seed of doubt still crept into her mind. Like it was doing now.

“I don’t know why,” he answered with a shake of his head, “I haven’t spoken to her since she left for New York.”

“She’s written to you five times,” (Y/N) couldn’t withhold the information any longer. Tommy’s brows furrowed again upon hearing her admission, so she decided to elaborate: “Polly said that I shouldn’t give them to you; that I should hide them instead. They’re in the side table. I don’t know why I listened to her. I just…I couldn’t bring myself to give them to you.”

Tommy looked down at the letter and back to (Y/N), seeing that she was now biting on her lip, a nervous tendency of hers that he’d noticed fairly early into their relationship.

“May Carleton also came to meet you last week…” she spoke again after silence had hung in the air for a few moments.

“She needed to speak about the horse,” he answered in a nonchalant manner, not thinking much more of the meeting he had with the other woman.

(Y/N), of course, was overthinking it.

“Hey…” Tommy brought her out of her thoughts, making her focus on him again. “I can see you fighting with yourself. Let those thoughts go.”

“I can’t…I just can’t help but wonder if maybe, if maybe that, that with them coming back…” she tried to speak but her mind betrayed her, and the lump that formed in her throat stopped her from speaking altogether.

Not much more was needed to connect the dots though. The clues had been dropped and Tommy was quick enough to pick them up and place them in order. “Those women are in the past, (Y/N). You’re the one I want,” he spoke with sincereity, hoping that it’d quell the thoughts swirling around her mind.

(Y/N) held eye contact with him until she couldn’t anymore. She felt those worries still bubbling up inside of her, even though he’d just flat out told her that he wanted her. She dropped her gaze to her fingers, watching as she picked at her nails.

“(Y/N)…” Tommy tried to get her attention, but to no avail. “Look at me right now,” he went another route, using his index and middle finger to raise her eyes to his again. He could see that they were watery now, and he hated that she was thinking so far into this. He took her cheeks into his hands, pulling her the slightest bit closer to him before speaking again. “There’s no one but you, ok? You’re the one I want to be with. You’re the one I want,” he reiterated his point, his eyes searching hers as he spoke. “Ok?” he asked again after she hadn’t spoken in a few moments.

“Ok,” (Y/N) breathed out, nodding her head the best she could with it held in his hands. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, hoping to steady herself. When she opened them again, they immediately hooked onto Tommy’s intense blue ones. “I’m sorry, Tommy,” she felt that she had to apologize.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head slightly at her statement, “there’s no reason for you to be sorry, love.”

“But I…”

“No,” he cut her off, “I’m going to burn this letter, and any other letter that comes. You’re the one I want, (Y/N).”

A small smile formed on her face at his words. She reached out and gently ran the back of her hand down his cheek, watching as his eyes dropped to her lips. Knowing what was coming next, she closed her eyes, leaning in slightly and meeting him in the middle, their lips finding each other’s in a passionate kiss that rid her mind of all of her doubts.

“No one but you, love,” Tommy whispered against her lips before kissing them again.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @youtifulsunshinelixfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Fluffcember Day 4 | The softest pillow

Pairing | Boyfriend!Sebastian Stan x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

Word count | 4.1K

Summary | You've been dating Sebastian for over five months, and he has invited you to spend the night at his house for the first time. He has planned a comfortable and romantic night for you both, and you've never had more fun staying at home than you did with him.

Warning(s) | Established relationship (boyfriend/girlfriend), use of pet name (Sweetheart), small age gap (~ 7-8 years).

Smut | Oral ~ M receiving, throat fucking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, lots of praise, hair pulling, dirty talk, Daddy kink, cockwarming.

Rating Explicit (E)

Request | @buckys-wintersoldier Hey, my lovely big me💞 Listen to me, I'm sure you will love that or I hope you will. You can decide the character you want to use for this one, but could you write a fluffy oneshot that includes these sentences: 1. "No, you can't get up! You're my prisoner for today." (I'm so in love with this one, I found this and now I'm in love) 2. "I remember practising how to ask you out in a mirror." I know they don't fit that well, but I'm pretty sure you will make a wonderful oneshot out of it. Hehe. Thank you in advance, and I love you, big me. 💞

A/n | This one-shot it written for day 4 of my Fluffcember 2023 Challenge. Thank you so much for this sweet request, and I am glad I found the perfect prompt for your challenge! 😉 I want to give a big thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this as always 🎄

Events Masterlist | ''You're my new pillow'' | @buckys-wintersoldier Masterlist | Holding hands | @anyfandomkinkbingo

Banners by @vase-of-lilies | Divider by @firefly-graphics | GIF credit to the owner

Main Masterlist | Sebastian Stan Masterlist

Dating Sebastian has been a true rollercoaster of emotions for you, but only in the best way possible. From you meeting him during an interview a little over a year ago to him asking you to be his girlfriend, it was like a fairytale.

Today is the day you're about to interview the cast of a new movie called The Martian - and today, of all days, will be the moment that you're going to be interviewing Sebastian Stan, your celebrity crush for the last few years.

It will be an absolute dream come true, and you've been endlessly preparing so you can conduct the interview of your life. And not just to impress Sebastian.

The black dress you've wanted to wear is hanging in your closet, ready to be put on, but you pick out some black lingerie before you can do that. It's not like anyone will see it, but the confidence boost it gives you is indescribable.

When you have the lacey fabric on, you admire yourself in the mirror for a few minutes before getting dressed and doing your hair and makeup.

Your hair is in loose curls and up in a ponytail, with a few loose pieces framing your face, and your eye makeup is simple, but the dark lipstick you put on gives your look an exciting edge.

Now, all that's left is to read over your interview questions a few more times and make a few last adjustments before it's officially time to go to your interview.

It's good that you've gotten into the habit of arriving early everywhere you go, and you've arrived about 20 minutes early so you take the time to freshen up in the bathroom.

You don't anticipate anyone walking by when you walk out, and you accidentally bump into a broad chest. You let out a squeal when a pair of strong arms envelop you.

"Woah! Careful there, Sweetheart," the man says with a chuckle, and your eyes snap up to see who the voice belongs to. It is just your luck that you bump into none other than Sebastian, and you're glad he caught you before you could fall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run into you!" You tell him as he lets you go, but he gives you a reassuring smile.

"It's okay, Sweetheart. It's not every day that someone as beautiful as you bumps into me," he tells you with a dashing smile, making the butterflies you feel in your stomach wild.

When it's time for the interview, Sebastian recognizes you and lets his gaze wander over your body and long, exposed legs a few times. He can't get enough of looking at you.

The interview is over far too soon for the both of you and just when you're about to pack up your stuff and go home to work out the interview, Sebastian stops you.

"I hope I'm not overstepping here, but would you mind grabbing a coffee sometime? If you're from around here, that is," he says, suddenly getting a little shy.

"Well, I'm out here for work until tomorrow morning, but once you're back in New York, I'd love to take you up on your offer since I live there," you tell him, and you can't help but smile.

The thought of Sebastian asking you out makes the butterflies go crazy, and when you see the relief washing over him, you know you made the right choice by saying yes.

"Let me give you my number, and you can text me when you're back in New York if you still want to grab a coffee, of course," you tell him, and he nods furiously before grabbing his phone and letting you put your phone number in it.

"I have to go now, but it was lovely to meet you, and I can't wait to grab a coffee with you when we're home," he says, and he bends down to place a soft kiss on your cheek, his stubble tickling you a little bit.

Little did you know it would be the start of a great friendship and one of the most loving relationships you've ever built with someone. It was your first Christmas together that would change the dynamic, however.

"Do you want to spend Christmas together this year? If you don't plan to go home, of course," Sebastian asks you during your weekly video call.

He's away to film another Marvel movie, but Christmas will be spent back in New York, which is perfect timing for both of you. You haven't seen him for the last three months, and even though it's nice to video call, you miss his hugs, smiles, and touches. You miss him.

"I would love to, but only if you're cooking dinner for me because the lord knows if I do it, there won't be anything to eat for us that evening!" you joke, and Sebastian laughs wholeheartedly, which makes your heart skip a beat or two.

Your crush on him has only intensified over the last year, and he has developed feelings for you as well, but with his busy shooting schedule, you don't see each other as much as you'd like.

Sebastian plans to make it extra special this Christmas and wants to spend the holiday with you. He's been planning on telling you how he feels for a while, and it will be the perfect opportunity to do just that.

"Of course, I'll cook; I'd rather not starve on Christmas, thank you very much!" he quips back, and you shake your head, chuckling at his comment.

It promises to be the most memorable Christmas you have ever spent, and you're glad you don't have to celebrate it alone this year. With your parents living on the other side of the world, seeing them over Christmas is not an option, so you usually take some time off, read a book or two, and relax.

"In that case, I'll gladly celebrate Christmas with you, Sebastian. I can't wait," you tell him, and the weeks leading up to it felt like they flew by.

It is the day before Christmas when Sebastian arrives in New York, and you've offered to pick him up from the airport, which he gladly accepted.

"Hi, Sweetheart," he says as he walks out the doors after baggage claim, hauling a suitcase behind him and a backpack over his shoulders. He's been filming in California for a while, so he has a healthy glow all over his face, making him look stunning.

"I can't believe we're spending Christmas together; it's a big step from having to spend it alone," you tell him softly, getting a little embarrassed that you just admitted to him that you're usually alone on the happiest time of the year.

"Wait, you're always alone on Christmas?! I'm glad I offered to spend it together! Can't have my best girl being alone during the holidays now, can I?" Sebastian asks, and you nod in agreement.

You didn't miss how he called you his best girl, and it made your cheeks heat up, which didn't go unnoticed by Sebastian. You both have this effect on one another, and you wouldn't change it for anything.

The next day, Sebastian rings your doorbell a little after noon, and you've opted to wear a Christmas-themed sweater. When you open the door, you find Sebastian with a Christmas sweater and a present under his arm.

"You look gorgeous today, Sweetheart," Sebastian tells you as he pulls you into his side and kisses your cheek softly. It has yours heating up instantly, and you're feeling very fortunate to have someone as sweet as him by your side today.

The afternoon is spent preparing dinner, drinking hot cocoa, and watching Home Alone, an absolute Christmas classic. When you think this day couldn't be any more perfect, Sebastian whips out an envelope and hands it to you.

I wrote this for you, and I'm sorry if it's a little cheesy, but I figured I go big or go home, and I'd rather not go home, so..." he says, a deep red blush taking over his cheeks and neck as he hands you the envelope.

It's a light pink envelope with your name in his handwriting, and you pull open the envelope to find a small letter inside.

Sweetheart,

The past year, you have shown me what it is like to live life to the fullest, no matter what life throws your way. Meeting you has also brought me immense joy; because of that, I want to ask you something.

Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest guy on earth and be my girlfriend?

~ Sebastian

When you finish reading the little note, you slap your hand over your mouth out of excitement and practically fling yourself into his arms as you pull him close.

"I'd love to be your girlfriend, Sebastian."

His hand cups your cheek before he pulls you in for a soft, sweet kiss. Even though it's not the first you've shared with him, it is by far the most special one, and it is the cherry on top of the Christmas cake.

Today will be your first time staying at Sebastian's house; honestly, the nerves are starting to kick in. He's seen your place a few times and slept there, but this is quite a step outside your comfort zone.

In your home, it's precisely how you like it and where you feel most comfortable, and you've discussed this with Sebastian. He is a true sweetheart because he has repeatedly reassured you that it's okay and you can sleep at home if you don't feel comfortable.

Your outfit has been laid out and ready to go for the last two days, and you can't wait to put it on and officially make your way to see Sebastian because you've missed him a lot.

Between his filming schedule and you flying all over the country to do more interviews, you have little time to see one another, but now that the universe is finally letting you be together, you want to look your absolute best.

After a shower and a thorough grooming session, you're putting your hair into two space buns with a few loose strands framing your face, and your makeup is very natural.

When your outfit is on, and your overnight bag is packed, you text Sebastian to tell him you're about to leave since it's still a 45-minute drive to his house, especially with the New York traffic.

Your work bag is also coming since you'll head straight to work the following day. It's a good thing he lives close to your office because that gives you more time to cuddle up to him, which is one of your favorite things to do in the morning.

What you didn't know, however, is that Sebastian has been preparing for your arrival. Not just by making sure his house is spotless but also by putting a little ''welcome home'' package together for you.

When he's about to step into the shower, he hears his phone go off, and when your name appears on his screen, he gets a wide grin, and his mood is instantly lifted.

''Can't wait to see you soon, Sweetheart,'' he says to no one, and he hops into the shower to prepare for your arrival. His place is spotless, there are clean sheets on the bed, and the care package is waiting on the kitchen island, ready to be unpacked by you.

He went above and beyond by choosing out a pair of the fuzziest socks he could find, as well as a big box of your favorite tea and a cute mug with it, a book from your wishlist you can leave at his place, and a bag of your favorite sweet treats to finish it.

He also has a small black box waiting for later, but that would have to wait until you two are comfortable on the couch because he wants to save it for a special moment.

When he's done in the shower, he quickly dries his hair and puts on a simple outfit before spraying his cologne. Now, he's ready to welcome you at his house and getting nervous because he's unsure if you will like it.

He grabbed the little box he was planning on giving you later and flipped open the top one last time as he looked at its contents. It shines beautifully in the sunlight, illuminating the room through the large windows.

With a small sigh, he shuts the box and puts it in one of the side table drawers next to his couch. It's all he can think about now, but before he can think about it too long, his doorbell rings, notifying him of your arrival.

He jogs to the door, and when he's there, he straightens out his long, dark brown locks and clothing one last time before swinging open the door and welcoming you inside.

''Sweetheart, I'm so glad you made it,'' he tells you as he pulls you in for a hug, and you instantly melt into his embrace.

''Missed you,'' you tell him, though it's muffled by the jacket he's wearing, and it only makes Sebastian chuckle.

''What did you say, Sweetheart? I don't think I got what you said just now,'' he tells you, and you reluctantly pull out of his hold so you can tell him again how much you've missed him.

''I missed you, but I'm thrilled to see you again,'' you tell him, pulling him closer so you can kiss him properly. Your lips fit perfectly with his, and it lights a fire inside of you that instantly makes you want more.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and nibbles softly before letting go with a soft moan. It was all just a plan to tease you a little so he could make the rest of the night unforgettable.

Your eyes are half-lidded as you look at him in anticipation, but instead of giving you what you're looking for, he pulls you into his house, closing the door behind you.

''I got you something to welcome you into my home and hopefully make it our home,'' he tells you as he interlaces his fingers with yours. He steps to the side to reveal the little basket on the kitchen island when you're in the kitchen.

''I-Is this for me? You didn't have to do that!'' you tell him, though your curiosity takes over, and you can't resist a peek inside the basket.

You take out everything and look at it, especially the mug he bought for you that leaves you chuckling. When you pick up the book and read the back, Sebastian walks closer to you and pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapped around you and his chin leaning on your shoulder.

''I figured you could leave this here, so you will always have a few things around here that are all yours for the next time you come over,'' he tells you, and you close your eyes as a huge smile escapes.

''I'm glad I'm allowed to come back after today,'' you say as you put the book on the counter and turn into his hold, kissing him softly and slowly until Sebastian bends down and lifts you onto the kitchen island.

''Well, there's one more surprise for you, and you need to close your eyes and stay seated, alright?'' Sebastian asks, and you hum in response, so he walks to the living room and gets the small black box he was holding earlier, unable to wait any longer.

''Alright, you can open them,'' Sebastian says, and he's standing in front of you with the black box open, and your eyes are immediately pulled to the contents of it.

''I want you to have this, Sweetheart, because you already have the key to my heart, and now I want you to have the key to my house as well. I want you to be able to come and go whenever you want to since there's no one else I trust more than you.''

You take the key out of the box and look at it before closing your hand around it and stretching the other one out to take Sebastian's and pull him between your legs.

''In that case, it's only fair if I give you the key to my house as well, but only if you promise not to sneak up on me in the middle of the night because I will knock you out if you do it!'' you tell him between chuckles.

You seal your promises to one another with a kiss, and you put the key beside you on the counter before your hands slide into his hair, pulling softly, earning yourself a groan from Sebastian.

''Let's move this to the bedroom, Sweetheart, and I'll give you a tour of the house later. Right now, I need you,'' he tells you between open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone, your head thrown back to give him access.

He pulls you off the counter, and once you're sturdy on the floor, he whispers something in your ear that has your knees buckling underneath you.

''You'd better enjoy the walk while you still can, Sweetheart, because I'm going to make sure you won't be able to walk for the rest of the day.''

He grabs your hand and leads the way to his bedroom, and he kicks the door shut before he attaches his mouth to yours again, the kiss a clash of tongues, a fight over dominance which Sebastian wins.

You are both undressing one another and when your dress has found its way onto the floor, you're standing in front of Sebastian in your white lingerie with red hearts on it. His breath hitches as he takes it in, his large hands gliding over the soft fabric adorning your body.

''Hmm, it's too bad you're not as innocent as this fucking lingerie makes you look right now, Sweetheart. Luckily, it'll be on the floor soon anyway,'' he purrs in your ear, making you unbelievably wet.

Your long fingernails drag from his chest, over his abdomen, down to his belt, unbuckling it quickly before pulling the fabric of his jeans down. You crouch down with it before sitting on your knees, and you palm his now hard cock through his underwear.

''How about I show you just how not-so-innocent I can be with my mouth?'' you tease him, and you feel him throb in your hand. He throws his head back with a loud groan as he's getting painfully hard now.

You pull his boxers down and throw them to the side, allowing his long, veiny cock to spring free right in front of your face, the red tip already leaking a bead of precum that you happily lick off.

''Tastes so good, Daddy,'' you whine softly, and the grin on Sebastian's face is unmistakable; he's about to ruin you in every single way you can think of.

After a few more small kitten licks on his tip, you take it into your mouth and you suckle softly. And Sebastian removes both hair ties from your hair, letting it fall around your head.

''Much better, Sweetheart, that way Daddy can fuck your beautiful throat like he wants to,'' he says, and your nails dig into his thighs at the idea, making Sebastian hiss at the feeling.

While you're looking up at him with big, glassy eyes, you slowly take more of him into your mouth until your nose is pressed to his pubic bone, and you're choking around his length.

When you pull back, you take in a few deep breaths of the oxygen you have just deprived yourself of, and you smile wickedly at Sebastian, who grabs some of your hair and pushes his cock back into your mouth, needing to cum down your throat.

''Want me to fuck this throat, Sweetheart? Want me to fuck this tight, perfect throat and cum in it, make you swallow it like my perfect cumslut?'' he asks you in a slightly degrading tone, but it only serves to make you even hornier, and your cunt clenches around nothing.

You moan around him, and he takes that as confirmation he needs to start fucking your throat and chasing his high in the process. The gagging sounds you make only spur him on, and his hips are snapping at a rapid pace until he shoots his cum down your throat and over your tongue, ensuring you get every last drop.

''Fuck, you're so good for me, Sweetheart, such a good girl for Daddy.''

With your eyes half-lidded and your panties soaked, Sebastian helps you up and walks you backward to the bed until you're lying down. When you're comfortable, he takes off your bra and panties so you're entirely bare for him, and he crawls over your body.

''Let me make you feel good, Sweetheart. You deserve it after making me feel so fucking amazing; my soul left my body through my cock,'' he whispers between kisses from your stomach and your breasts up to your neck and jaw.

''Please, Daddy,'' you beg, and Sebastian's too impatient to make you wait any longer, as he needs to be buried inside you right this moment.

He lines himself up with your entrance before pushing in slowly, letting you adjust to his length before pushing in further. When he's fully sheathed inside of you, he lets out a groan, and a moan escapes your lips.

His hands find yours, and he interlaces his fingers with yours before slowly pumping in and out of you, making sure you feel every single inch, ridge, and vein inside of you.

''Hmm, I remember practicing how to ask you out in a mirror after that interview. You bumping into me that day is truly the best thing that has ever happened to me, Sweetheart,'' Sebastian confesses as he keeps his slow, almost unbearable pace the same.

''Couldn't live with the fact that I might not see you again, so I practiced, and I'm so glad it worked out, Sweetheart. I can't imagine being anywhere other than inside of your perfect, tight, soaked pussy right now. She's clenching around me, baby. Are you about to cum for Daddy?'' he asks you, and you nod; all that's leaving your mouth are moans and whines because you're so close.

''Hmm, you better cum around my cock, Sweetheart, want to cum inside this perfect pussy,'' he groans in your ear, and he lets go of your hand to rub your clit while simultaneously picking up the pace, and you lock your ankles behind around his hips.

''D-Daddy! Please, need to cum,'' you plea, and he listens because before you know it, you fall apart from the combination of his fingers and cock inside you, and Sebastian closely follows you.

Long ropes of his cum shoot into your puffy, overstimulated cunt, but he doesn't want to pull out since you're so warm and comfortable. He turns over with you in his arms, and he pulls the comforter over both of you as you snuggle into him, still buried deep inside you.

You take a short nap in his arms as you cockwarm him, and when you wake up, you feel Sebastian tracing soft, slow patterns on your back.

''Hi, Daddy,'' you whisper against his neck, and he turns to look at you.

''Hi, Sweetheart. How was your nap?'' he asks you, and you can confirm it was the best nap you've had in a long time. After you've woken up entirely, you're both taking a bath together before moving your cuddle session to the couch, and you're ordering dinner so you don't have to leave each other's sides.

Later in the evening, you're attempting to get up from the couch, but you're not allowed because Sebastian pulls you back onto the sofa, making you squeal.

''No, you can't get up! You're my prisoner for today!'' he tells you and pulls you onto his lap to attack you with many tickles, making you laugh and squirm uncontrollably.

''N-No! Please, sto-o-o-p!'' you tell him, and eventually, he does. But not after a few more surprise ones when you've caught your breath again.

When it's finally time to go to bed, you lay your head on Sebastian's chest with a soft sigh, and before you drift off to sleep, you mutter a few more words to him that have him chuckling softly.

''You're my new pillow, so I will never let you go.''

This was when he officially knew he would marry you one day because he could not live without you for another second. He wants your love and happiness around him for the rest of his life.

[wholoveseggs]

Secret Santa

{Masterlist}

~Five days of Fluffmas~

Elijah faces a nerve-wracking challenge when arranging a secret Santa gift for you. A surprise unfolds during the gift exchange, leaving Elijah in a panic. Yet, he discovers that sometimes imperfections make the most perfect moments.

1k words - No warnings, no smut! just pure fluff.

Secret Santa

Elijah felt a little frightened, an odd sensation making him jittery and unable to stop himself from nervously adjusting his cufflinks. The task at hand was simple, yet navigating it was an extremely delicate matter; a single mistake could ruin everything.

He approached Rebekah, who was quietly humming to herself as she wrapped Christmas presents. She gave him a warm smile, pulling out a chair and gesturing for him to join her. 

Opting to stand, he tried his best to sound nonchalant. "Rebekah, dear, who did you get for secret Santa?"

She gave him a curious look, a sly smirk forming on her face. "Isn’t telling you going against the whole point of it?"

Elijah chuckled lightly, feigning casual interest. "Well, one could argue that a bit of harmless curiosity won't hurt anyone, especially during the festive season."

Rebekah raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his attempt at subtlety. "Oh, Elijah, you're not fooling anyone. You just want to know who got y/n," she laughed.

He sighed in defeat. It was true, but it seemed he was incapable of being inconspicuous when it came to you. "Let's say I am, hypothetically of course. And since you are in charge of it, couldn't you give your brother a little clue?" He begged, shamelessly hoping his sister would go easy on him.

"Why does it matter? You are getting her a gift either way; she's your girlfriend after all," she teased.

"Because-" He stopped himself mid-sentence, knowing his flustered reply would only prompt further ribbing from his baby sister. "Look," he sighed again, trying another angle, "I just need to know who drew her, so I can make sure they give her a good gift,"

"Now why would I do such a thing? It goes against the rules of exchange. And are you saying we are not good gift givers?" Rebekah tilted her head at him, seemingly relishing in his agony.

Elijah didn't want to tell Rebekah the truth, but he knew his sister well enough to know that she would find some way to wheedle it out of him if he did not confess.

"If I tell you why, you must promise to keep it a secret," Elijah leaned in towards his sister, watching her intently for her response.

"How very scandalous of you, brother," she smiled in anticipation.

Elijah trusted his sister would never betray his confidence. More than that, she would understand and support him in his endeavor. Still, it was humiliating. He felt so stupid, wanting everything to be absolutely perfect.

"I'm making plans to propose to her during the holidays, and I just want to make sure nothing goes wrong. That is...," he cleared his throat awkwardly, "If she says yes, of course."

Rebekah looked surprised and thrilled. With wide eyes and a large smile, she jumped up and hugged her brother. "Oh Elijah! I'm so happy for you!"

Releasing him from her embrace, she pulled back and patted his chest affectionately, tears brimming in her eyes. "She will definitely say yes, no woman would resist you, especially my dear, sweet, handsome brother, whom I love very, very much."

Elijah couldn't resist smiling back. His heart was pounding, unsure if it was from relief or anxiety, but either way his sister's words calmed him immensely. "Thank you, Rebekah. Your blessing means a great deal to me."

"Show me the ring," Rebekah urged impatiently, giving him a serious look. “Do you have it on you?”

Pulling the small box out of his suit pocket, he revealed a beautiful diamond engagement ring, glistening under the warm lamplight of the living room.

"Elijah," Rebekah let out a wistful sigh, her eyes shining at him with approval.

"Now, can you please tell me who drew her name for secret Santa?" He asked, hopeful.

Rebekah wiped her eyes, fighting to regain her composure. She pulled out her phone and brought up the exchange list, "Well, it wasn't me, nor was it Freya… oh no,"

Elijah groaned, cursing his luck. "Niklaus.”

Elijah hoped his brother would be in a good mood tonight, and more importantly, willing to cooperate.

As usual, his wish went ungranted.

"Why on earth would I trade with you?" Klaus questioned him, as if he had just asked him to donate his own kidney. "Do you think I won't get her a good gift?"

"Well," Elijah searched for the right words to say, knowing this was a dangerous minefield to navigate, "It's not that. It's just..."

Klaus raised his eyebrow, giving him a challenging look. "It's just what, brother?"

"She's my girlfriend, and I want her to have something special," Elijah admitted.

"Oh don't worry, Elijah, I'll give her something special," he laughed, patting his shoulder condescendingly.

Elijah gritted his teeth. His brother was being intentionally obtuse, but he did not wish to resort to violence, especially so close to Christmas.

"Just don't give her anything inappropriate," he emphasized the word, knowing full well Klaus would just do what he wanted anyway.

"Inappropriate, how?" Klaus looked at him incredulously.

"Anything that would ruin the festive atmosphere," Elijah was growing more and more annoyed with his brother, who was clearly enjoying the situation a bit too much.

"Ruin the festive atmosphere? How could I do that?" He was playing dumb, but Elijah would not give him the satisfaction.

"Niklaus, you know exactly what I mean," he warned, giving him a stern glare.

Klaus smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't worry, Elijah, I'm sure it will be perfectly, appropriate."

Elijah's instincts told him this was not going to go well.

Elijah held onto you tightly as you sat in his lap, snuggled up close together, listening to the sound of Christmas music softly playing in the background. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn't wait for you to be his forever. The rest of his family was scattered throughout the living room, talking, drinking, and enjoying the holidays.

"It's almost time to exchange gifts," you said excitedly. "I hope everyone likes what I got them."

Elijah tensed up, nervous for what would come next. He had tried desperately to get his brother to reconsider, but it was no use. His attempts had been met with nothing but amusement, and in the end, it seemed it would have to remain a surprise.

"It should be starting soon, yes," Elijah replied, doing his best to keep his voice calm.

"I got Kol, which was a bit of a challenge. He's hard to shop for," you laughed, resting your head against Elijah's chest.

"Ah, well, I'm sure whatever you got him, he'll appreciate," Elijah stroked your arm affectionately.

You both watched as Kol was given a small, brightly wrapped gift, and unwrapped a bottle of scotch. His face broke out into a huge grin, giving a big thumbs up.

"Whoever got me did good," Kol raised his glass to toast his mysterious benefactor.

Elijah watched as each person gave out their gifts. There were plenty of smiles and laughter, everyone seemingly pleased. He was happy to see his family enjoying the festivities, and hoped his gifts would also bring them joy.

You got up and grabbed two packages from under the tree before settling back into Elijah's lap.

"It's our secret Santa gifts, open them up," you urged him.

Elijah unwrapped his gift carefully, revealing a new tie. It was dark gray with a subtle pattern woven into the silk, very stylish and expensive.

"Oh, it's lovely, thank you," he smiled, genuinely impressed.

"That's from me," Rebekah chimed in, looking very pleased with herself.

"It's great, thank you," he nodded to his sister, grateful that someone understood the importance of proper decorum.

"Now, let's see what mine is," you smiled, pulling out a small rectangular package.

As you removed the wrapping paper, Elijah could feel his nerves growing, hoping his brother would have some mercy on him and not give you anything too embarrassing.

He held his breath as you lifted the lid, revealing a small, black velvet box. Opening the box, you gasped at the sight of a stunning diamond ring.

You looked to Elijah, a questioning look in your eyes.

"Is this from you?" You asked, unable to hide your surprise.

Elijah's eyes went wide, unsure how to react. His brother had truly outdone himself, and he was utterly speechless.

Klaus, on the other hand, was laughing hysterically. "I'm afraid this is my gift, sweet y/n."

"But...it's an engagement ring," you looked back and forth between the two brothers.

Elijah could not deny it was a lovely ring. In fact, it was nearly identical to the one he had picked out for you. A sudden rush of panic shot through him and he reached into his pocket, searching for the small velvet box, only to discover it was not there.

His brother must have pick-pocketed it from him when he was distracted.

"Ah, well," Klaus gave a mischievous smile, "I thought it would be a wonderful gift, given that I was told not to give you anything inappropriate."

"This is an engagement ring," you repeated, your eyes darting around the room.

Elijah wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. How could his brother have done this? What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't very well propose this way.

"I-I, ah," Elijah stammered, his mind racing.

"You're not going to ask her to marry you, are you?" Klaus gave a dramatic sigh, putting his hand over his heart, feigning surprise.

You turned to focus on Elijah, his usual composed demeanor gone, replaced by a man who looked as if he were about to faint.

"Elijah," you cooed, lifting his chin gently so that you could look into his eyes, "Are you trying to propose?"

Elijah could only manage a nod. He wanted this moment to be perfect, and now it was ruined. He didn't know what to say, or even how to look at you. 

"Yes," you whispered, smiling at him.

"Yes?" He repeated, not quite believing his ears.

"Yes," you said, leaning in to kiss him softly.

Elijah was stunned. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for kissing you back, feeling his body relax.

"Congratulations!" Everyone cheered, rushing forward to offer their best wishes.

Elijah couldn't believe it. After everything that had happened, you still said yes. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held you close, feeling happier than he had ever been.

He pulled the ring out of its container, throwing the box in Klaus's direction, and placed the ring on your finger, finally ready to make his dreams a reality.

[comfy-vember]

Hullo. Welcome to Comfy-vember.

2024 PROMPT LIST IS HERE.

This is a fun writing challenge, to encourage creativity. There are no prizes but your own satisfaction, and the love of your readers. :)

No, I am not trying to usurp Comfortember (which I thought for sure was in September??) the already established writing event to follow up Whumptober. This is just an alternative, with a greater variety of prompts, and prompt schedules.

So pertinent factoids:

Who: You can call me Rain, and this is open to anyone.

What: a writing event (but you can make art too if you want!) centered around gen (platonic) relationships and hurt/comfort (leaning into the comfort) scenes. Fanfic and original work welcome.

When: November

Where: anywhere you post writing! But this blog will only reblog writing or links from here on tumblr. An Ao3 collection could be possible, though I've never made one before.

Prompts: There are three levels of prompts to choose from, to help you set realistic goals for yourself, and hopefully let you participate without the guilt of not making every day!😘 There are Daily, Weekly, and a single Month prompt groups.

The Prompt of the Month consists of three words or phrases, a line of dialogue, and a song to draw inspiration from.

The 4 Weekly Prompts consist of three words or phrases, and a line of dialogue each.

The 30 Daily Prompts consist of three words or phrases each.

You can use ANY of the prompts for the day/week, from one to all of them! You will notice some variety in the amounts of hurt vs comfort vs fluff in each prompt group. So you can pick whatever you're feeling, or use all of them in the progression of your work! Or if you want to continue some of those Whumptober fics with recovery and hugs and cuddles...👀

Works: can be any length, from five sentences, to ficlets, to a whole chapter fic/novel mashing all the prompts together! Both fanfic and original writing are welcome. They do not have to be written or posted in order, just make sure to tag which day/weeks prompts you're using.

Content: This is supposed to be centered around gen or platonic relationships (friends, siblings, parent-child, mentor-student, neighbours, soldiers, other familial bonds, a garbage truck driver and the kid who waves at him every day, etc. even people and their pets). Romantic relationships can be in the background, but I'm really looking for friends, family, and countrymen to take centre-stage here. I would ask the writing be kept PG-13 or lower on the maturity scale. :) Or at least this blog will not reblog or recognize anything with explicit content.

Tags: #comfy-vember 2024 #comfy-vember #comfy vember #comfy vember 2024

That's all probably clear as mud, lol, but if you have ANY questions, PLEASE drop me an ask!

[marvelousbuckley]

Pardon my french!

BuckTommy Positivity Week 2024 - day two

this challenge is so fun, thank you so much @bucktommypositivityweek! and thank you @searching-for-the-moon for the inspiration

Prompt: nicknames and terms of endearment

You can read it on AO3 or down below. Every fic will be posted on AO3 as chapters of the same fic!

-----

“Mon chéri ?”

“No way, it’s how my ex’s mother called him.”

“Ok then, what about mon coeur ?”

“That’s how HE called me.”

“Hard no.”

Evan frowns, wrinkling his nose while he crosses a new line on his list, clipboard steady on his hand like he has been doing this his whole life. How can their friends think it’s annoying? Evan, with a focused face, his cutest than ever.

It’s been five days since the blond man discovered Tommy’s ability to speak French. The pilot knows that, if they had had the possibility to spend every minute of the week together, Evan would have not been able to talk about anything else.

To be fair, Tommy is not the kind of guy who praises himself a lot, nor he is the kind who shows off. But seeing the impact that it had on Evan, he played along the few times they saw each other, for his boyfriend’s pleasure. It started with words now and then, inserting one or two in the middle of a sentence, his smile growing bigger each time it flustered Evan. He played dumb for a while, denying doing it. After that, the next step had been to whispers secret promises in Evan’s ears every time the other man started to fall asleep on his arms, settling him for a night full of dreams, mostly heated ones.

“Je te veux pour toujours.” Was the phrase that he said the most, loving the taste of the last words on his mouth. Pour toujours. Forever. It made Evan shivers even though he didn’t know what it meant.

But now? Now Evan is looking at his list of French pet names, all serious, and Tommy cannot believe his luck. He knows how smitten he his, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t want to hide his feelings anymore, especially since it his Evan that he loves. Evan who changed his whole world, who offered him the sweetest rom-com life he could have wished for.

Him having spend most of the night reading about French language and vocabulary is just another reason for Tommy to loves him.

Tommy’s dating life hadn’t been all bad. He had had serious partners. Not a lot, but few happy ones. Nicolas had been one of them. Three years, a house, hours and hours of movie nights, an introduction to his pals from the army. A clean break-up, more like fading away from each other really, and the need to find something else for both men.

They still called for Christmas, exchanged text for new year and birthdays. Nicolas had been proud of him when Tommy finally come out, even if it never bothered him to be with a closeted Tommy who could not assume his sexuality while on the job, Gerrard and all. Tommy went to Nicolas’ wedding a few years ago, had a great time with old acquaintances, even hooked up with some sexy guy from the other groom side of the family.

So, French was not a trauma for him. And Evan searching for something cute to call him in this language that fascinates the younger man? It is incredibly, stupidly hot.

“The website also suggested mon chou but apparently it means cabbage?” Evan lets himself fall on the couch next to Tommy and sets his head on the older man’s shoulder. The gesture is comforting, with a sense of habit that gets Tommy all smiley and giddy when he thinks about it too much. They’re accustomed to being together, but it is still a joyful feeling to truly experience it. Tommy can’t help himself but shift a little so he can kiss Evan’s head while his eyes perks at the list. Evan is halfway through it, a disappointed look on his face.

“Why is there so many options? We have sweetheart, dear, love, honey, babe… But them? I understand why it’s called the country of love.” Evan sighs and a light laugh leave Tommy’s lips, pushing him to kiss Evan’s head again. His boyfriend’s hair smells like coconut, a new shampoo that makes Tommy crazy. He always loved coconut cake, now all he wants his to devour the man he loves. One of his hands becomes adventurous, coming to play with the edge of his t-shirt, a finger brushing past it to touch Evan’s skin, caress all the way up to his ribs. He feels Evan’s body tense and then relax, leaning for more before his brain takes the controls back and he straighten himself, shooshing and pushing the adventurous hand before he turns back to Tommy who looks at him with a lazy smile.

“What?” The older man asks.

“This is serious Tommy, I need to know how you feels about mon lapin or ma biche.” Tommy’s face talks by itself, a displeased looks taking possession of his eyes.

“No way, it is not happening. You’ll not call me by an actual animal name.” His reaction has Evan chuckles and crosses another line.

“Knew it.”

Tommy rolls his eyes while Evan continues. Mon homme (“which you are”), mon bébé (“I’am a freaking adult!”), petit cul (“I’m not sure if I’m pronouncing it right”), chouchou (“Hell no”), bébou (“that’s it, I’m leaving you”). It is endearing, but it is also starting to annoy him a little. He would rather do something else, something less cute and with a less lot talking. If he thinks about gagging his boyfriend, well, it’s up to him.

After a little longer he finally moves. His hand grabs Evan’s shin and he turns the man towards him firmly. His lips come crushing Evan’s mouth and he’s happy that his boyfriend was still talking because it allows him to slip his tongue in him, kissing the younger man eagerly and with passion. A kiss that has Evan moans and drops the clipboard, his arms quickly wrapped around Tommy’s neck.

The older man deepens the kiss, grips Evan by the hips and lifts him in one motion, which pulls out a laugh from his boyfriend between their lips. Tommy smiles, his mouth still on Evan’s. He carries him all the way to the bedroom where he swings Evan on the bed. The blond moves in a hurry, letting enough room for Tommy to come lay on top of him, his mouth now really close to Evan’s ear.

“What about trésor ?” He ask, a naughty tone in his voice. It makes Evan shivers with anticipation and want, need even.

“Wha-What does it-it means?” Evan replies, as curious as he his aroused.

“Literally, it means treasure.” Tommy answers before he drops a kiss on his neck. “You could translate it to sweetheart but-” He stops again, this time taking time to kiss Evan’s jaws, a trail that goes from his ear to his shin. “I think it means more in French. It means that you are precious to me and that I want to keep you to myself for ever.” His lips finally go and ravish Evan’s mouth, pulling a deep moan out of him.

Yes, Evan thinks while Tommy’s hands start to unbuckle his pants. Trésor is fine.

----- 

translation: 

- Mon chéri : it is a kind of sweetheart but it's mainly used by old grandma with youngs ones,

- Mon cœur: my heart,

- Je te veux pour toujours : I want you for ever, 

- mon lapin : rabbit, 

- ma biche : doe,

- mon homme : my man, 

- mon bébé : baby, 

- petit cul : small ass, but affectionately. yes, we say it, a lot,

- chouchou : this one is not really translatable ???

- bébou : it's a french web reference lmao,

[reminiscingtonight]

Endlessly

Emily Sonnett x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Happy New Year! Here’s a cute non-Setbacks fic to start off 2023!

[WOSO Masterlist]

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Kelley raises an eyebrow when she strolls into the room. When she left for breakfast this morning, you were still sound asleep in your bed. What prompted this trashing of your shared hotel room and rare swear-filled vocabulary? Well she had no clue. “Are you auditioning for a movie against Samuel L. Jackson or something?”

Pausing from sweeping your hands on the ground, you shoot the defender a dirty look. “No. I’m looking for my ring.”

She carefully perches herself on the corner of her, thankfully, untouched bed. The gold shimmer of your wedding band catches her eye with ease, and Kelley is quick to tell you so. “I hate to break it to you, but it’s literally on your ring finger. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it leave your side unless we’re gearing up for a match. And even then, it’s back on the second the whistle blows.”

When you let out an even more pitiful sigh, Kelley has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. 

“Not that one. I have a second one, or first one actually, I-- it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was wearing it when I went to bed and I woke up and it was gone.”

Kelley instantly wants to crack a joke about you turning into Gollum, but one look at your face instantly stops her. You look ten steps beyond upset, close to crying at even the smallest prodding. She frowns, never having seen you this upset before. “Do you want some help?”

And that’s where your wife finds the two of you an hour later. After you miss your coffee date, Emily trudges to your room with a sigh. Knowing you and Kelley, she’d be amazed if the defender hadn’t roped you into putting on handcuffs just to complete a weird challenge of hers.  

Noticing the door slightly ajar, Emily nudges it open. “Okay Kel, what did you do to my…” 

Emily blinks at the sight in front of her. 

Your usually pristine room is in shambles, sheets thrown everywhere, every piece of bedding overturned. Kelley shoots the blonde a look of help from behind you, while you’re still on your hands and knees, staring intensely at the floor. 

After going through your entire room with a fine tooth comb not once, or twice, but a whopping five times, your ring has still yet to turn up. In all honesty, Kelley thought you were making things up. She’s never seen this so-called “first” ring of yours, and the longer you search with no success, the less she’s inclined to think this is anything else but a taxing prank on your part. 

“Babe, everything okay?”

“I-- I--” The sympathetic look on Emily’s face as she waits for you to gather your thoughts only makes you break down into tears.

Emily’s crossing the room in seconds, glaring at Kelley. “What did you do?” She hisses out, letting you hold on tight to her.

“Me? I didn’t do anything!” Kelley looks affronted, the accusation coming out of nowhere.

“Well something obviously happened. She was fine last night when she left--”

“Kelley didn’t do anything,” you blubber into Emily’s neck. The blonde huffs out a breath, not quite believing either of you. “She was helping me look for my ring.”

A beat passes. 

Emily really tries to stop herself from laughing. Especially since you seem so upset. But she now understands the exasperated look on Kelley’s face. “Baby, it’s on your finger.”

Kelley mouths out a ‘that’s what I said!’ from across the room, but neither you nor Emily pay her any attention.

“Not that one!” you repeat, sounding even more upset than when Kelley had prompted this reaction.

It’s the slight hitch in your voice that instantly sobers Emily up. Her mouth drops open, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. “Oh, you lost…” Emily trails off, hand automatically dropping to the necklace that held the matching ring hidden underneath her shirt. She didn’t need to finish her sentence for either of you to know exactly what it is that you’ve lost. 

After all, you were the one who bought those rings for the two of you years ago, back before you had the money to get the nice gold wedding bands that tie the two of you together.

---

“This is stupid, isn’t it.”

Emily huffs in annoyance next to you and you have to try hard not to laugh at her. After being grounded, Emily lost all of her car privileges. And given that you didn’t have a car yourself, the two of you decided to walk all the way to the nearest courthouse, rather than your original plan of driving. 

Nearly an hour later, you could start to see the courthouse in the distance. But with the appearance of the building, Emily starts nervously fidgeting beside you. 

“We’re 18, Em. It’s perfectly legal--”

“Yeah yeah, I know, but we don’t even have rings!”

Pulling your girlfriend to a stop, you wait until she hesitantly meets your eyes. You give her hand a light squeeze. “Do you not want to do this anymore? It’s okay if you don’t. It’s just… you kinda were the one who proposed.”

Emily’s instantly shaking her head. “No, no, I do. Of course I do. I just… do you think we’re ready for this? Or that… you really want to be stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

“I said yes when you asked, didn’t I?” You smile but Emily doesn’t return it. Her eyes drop to the ground again where she���s been scuffing her feet against the pavement for a while now. Sighing, you take another step towards Emily, crowding her so she has no choice but to look up again. “Baby, I’d kill to spend the rest of my life with you. It doesn’t matter if we get married today or in five years or until we’re gray and old. I’ll love you now and forever because you’re the one for me.”

Emily’s frowning now, and you know she doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. You love your girlfriend to death, but she often needs multiple reminders of how much you love her --- something you’re more than happy to voice. 

Pulling her in for a hug, you plant a kiss along her hairline. Emily sinks into you, wrapping her arms around your waist. 

“We can go home right now if that’s what you want,” you hum, making sure Emily knows you’re being genuine. “We can go snuggle in my bed and pretend we never even came up with this idea. Emma will probably tease us about it for a while but she’ll forget about it soon enough--”

“No, I-- I want to get married today. I want to.” Emily pulls back far enough for you to see the new set of determination in her eyes.

“Are you sure? Because it’s totally okay if--”

“Will you marry me?” Emily interrupts, similar to the way she asked the first time. 

The corner of your lip twitches in amusement. You pretend to think on it for a second, but quickly throw out a ‘yes’ when Emily jabs an elbow into your ribs.

“Not even married yet and you’re already treating me badly. You’ll be lucky if I don’t divorce you.” Your complaint dies off when a certain store catches your attention. 

Emily turns around, trying to see what’s got you distracted, but you grab her face, turning it back to yours.

“Okay, I love you, but I’d love you more if you stay right here and give me two minutes.”

“Wait, where are you--”

When you swing back closer to five minutes later, Emily’s still where you left her, albeit looking a little poutier than normal.

She perks up when you come into view, but the pout is quick to return. “That was longer than two minutes.”

Ignoring her, you drop your purchase into Emily’s open hand. The blonde drops her eyes to her palms, mouth dropping open when she realizes what you bought.

The two plastic rings are by no means grand wedding bands, but they are circular and get the job done. And that’s exactly what you tell Emily.

Her eyebrows pinch together, a sign when she’s thinking a bit too hard. “Where did you even get them?”

“The shop down the street sells them for pretty cheap.”

You felt confident enough to buy the rings when you spotted them on display earlier, but when Emily starts turning them in her hands, examining them without saying a word, you start to feel the nerves.

“I know it’s not gold or anything fancy, but I promise I’ll get you a real one someday.”

“Not if I beat you to it first.”

Emily’s outburst earns her a chuckle and you loop your arm through hers. 

And when the two of you return home a couple hours later, hand in hand with matching plastic rings and a marriage certificate on its way, you know that everything will be just fine.

---

That cheap plastic ring has been with you everywhere. It’s been to Virginia when you and Emily left for college. It’s been to Boston when you were drafted there while Emily headed for Portland. It’s been to the World Cup, the Olympics, and even NWSL championship matches, and you’ve never once misplaced it. 

But for the first time since you were eighteen, it’s not around anymore. 

You find yourself absentmindedly reaching for the necklace it usually sits upon more than a couple times, but every time you meet skin instead of familiar metal, you can’t help but deflate.

Emily’s quick to catch the dip in your mood. Although the two of you have long gotten those gold rings you promised each other years ago, it was Emily’s idea to keep the original ones upon a necklace. She’s nothing if not sentimental, and watching you tear yourself apart because you lost something so dear to the both of you only makes her all the more eager to fix your hurt. 

Which is why you’re surprised when after another one of your absentminded scratches of your neck, Emily lets out a loud sigh. “Okay I can’t take it anymore.”

The hurt crosses your face instantly, but Emily is out of her seat before she can catch it. 

You know you’ve been a bit mopey ever since coming back from camp, but you haven’t been that unbearable to live with. At least you didn’t think so. Emily hasn’t complained once, but for her to leave you over losing a ring?

Emily freezes when she comes back into the room, noticing the tear tracks on your face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Why are you so mean?” you huff, getting up from the couch where the two of you were cuddling earlier. You push past your wife to the kitchen, wanting to put some space between the two of you.

Emily doesn’t let you get too far. “What?” She sounds bewildered, but you keep your back towards her, not wanting to see her face at the moment. 

You know damn well you’re being a bit ridiculous right now, but now that Emily’s hurt your feelings? Well she will just have to deal with you being difficult.

“You know how much the ring meant to me! At least give me time to grieve the loss of something so special before you start finding a reason to leave me!”

“What? No! No, no, no, I would never do that to you.” You feel Emily press her body against yours, one arm wrapping itself around your waist. She presses a kiss against your cheek, whispering quiet reassurances that she would never leave you.

Despite the way you’re feeling, you can’t help but melt into her touch. “Then what did you mean when you said you couldn’t take ‘this’ anymore?”

The look of sheepishness instantly crosses Emily’s face. The blonde slaps a hand against her forehead. “Okay, sorry, wrong choice of words.”

Turning you around, Emily shoves a box into your hands. You didn’t notice her holding it this entire time, but now that you’re thinking about it, this must have been what she left the room to go grab. 

You eye it with suspicion. 

“I was going to gift this to you for our anniversary next month but you seemed too sad for me to keep it from you.”

Frowning, you slowly unwrap it. When you finally crack open the box, your mouth drops open.

Sitting in the box is a familiar plastic ring sitting upon a simple silver chain. 

A thousand emotions flood through you at once. Disbelief, relief, annoyance. You narrow your eyes at Emily. “Where did you find it?”

“Baby, you left it in the bathroom after we… well, you know.” Emily’s face burns red, a flush overtaking her features as she thinks back to the afternoon you spent in her hotel room during camp. 

You’re stuck between embarrassed that that’s how you lost your ring and slightly peeved that Emily’s hid it from you for this long, but in the end, you’re just relieved you didn’t actually lose it to the void of the world.

“Can you?” You sweep your hair off to the side, hand holding out the necklace to your wife. 

Emily grabs it without any other prompting. “Want to marry me again?” She grins, leaning in close so she can close the clasp for you. 

You let out a teary chuckle. “Always.”

[staycalmandhugaclone]

"Flowers" - Crosshair x Doc

@narcissa-of-kaas tagged me in a Six Sentence Sunday challenge, which I decided to use to fulfill a prompt for my clone x reader bingo card. I... was unsuccessful with the 6 sentences thing... but 10 is still pretty damn impressive for me, so... here yuh go.

Btw, this is totally canon in Doc's Misadventures - it's just a couple arcs ahead of Breaking Point so enjoy a little glimpse of better things ahead! Alternatively, it can totally be read as a gender neutral stand alone!

Warnings: a fluffy kiss?

Words: 383

There were many types of silence with Crosshair: some screamed so loudly, I wanted to clasp my hands over my ears and beg him to stop, while others were gentle, as if I could feel the brush of his fingers against my skin absent even a moment’s touch. This was one of those moments, quiet and soft; even the rustle of dried foliage freshly shed from the towering trees sang only in whispers beneath our feet.

Despite the changing seasons, flowers still clung to the waning heat of fall, illustrating their grandeur in hidden bursts of color revealed only from an occasional gust of wind freeing them of the autumn blanket of fallen leaves. He said nothing as one such moment allowed just enough time for me to take note, breath catching slightly in a joyous gasp as I quickly moved from his side. When I returned with a pair of nearly gold, rosette blooms, he merely cocked his brow, but there was a fondness in the subtle tilt of his lips that left me beaming, and I happily handed him one in that same, gentle silence.

His expression briefly flashed to one of dismissal, but he quickly caught himself, jaw tensing as he seemed to struggle for several seconds over how to respond before finally, hesitantly, accepting the tiny offering. I so nearly relieved him of the uncertainty clearly overwhelming him, but held myself still, admittedly struck by the rare display of flustered doubt before me, and my glee only grew as, after far too much thought, he tentatively tucked the stem into the lip of his chestplate, cheeks darkening beneath a deep blush.

Without a word, I stepped in front of him, free hand reaching up to slip around his neck as I pulled him down into a kiss, smile beaming even as my lips toyed lovingly with his. Meeting his eyes as I leaned back, I brought my own flower to my mouth and bit into the blossom with a quiet laugh, savoring the way his eyes widened in understanding, blush growing violent. Still, I heard his short scoff after I returned to the trail before us, glancing back just in time to see him sample one of the lesser known delicacies of this stunning world with a begrudged resignation.

Tagging for this challenge (even though it's not Sunday anymore): @echos-girlfriend @burningfieldof-clover and @starqueensthings

Click here or message me if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Click here for my Masterlist.

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @ct-0113 @padawancat97 @eclec-tech @kixs-husband @atomickidsoul @jennrosefx @echos-girlfriend @starqueensthings @burningfieldof-clover @manofworm @merkitty49 @fives-girlfriend @idoubleswearimawriter @abigfanofstarwars @chopper-base @daftdarling222 @pb-jellybeans @skellymom @bacta-the-future @rosechi @legalpadawan @pentaghasm @actuallybarb @snow-dragon-rider @like-a-bantha @ew-wtaf @solstraalaa @drummergirl1701 @shersten-the-gold @shewhoneveryields @6oceansofmoons @get-wr3ckered @dangraccoon @goddessofcongeniality @ji5hine @dathomiri-mudpuppy @anotherschuylersister @inneedsoffanfics @llamakiller101 @totally-not-your-babe @the-cantina @captainrex89 @delialeigh @blondie-bluue @wanderer-six @ray-rook @saraokee @literallyjustanerd @andimancan

[runnning-outof-time]

3 . 5 K Follower Celebration

~ The Garrison is open and the drinks are flowing! ~

Come and help me celebrate reaching 3.5k followers!

Thank you for all of the love and support you’ve shown me! I know I say it every time, but I truly cannot believe that my silly little blog has grown this big. Im so, so thankful for every single one of you! 🧡

So in honor of hitting 3.5k, I figured I’d think up some 3 word sentences and some 5 word sentences and then challenge myself to write some blurbs based around them. … That’s where y’all come in — I need you to send me some requests using the prompts I have listed below the cut!!

If you’re interested please make sure you include:

The character you’d like me to write it with — I only write for Tommy, John and Arthur

The sentence you’d like me to incorporate

If you’d like for it to take a certain tone (i.e fluff, angst, etc) — this is optional; I’ll happily surprise you!

Please only use 1 prompt per ask/request!! You can send in as many as you’d like though (the more, the merrier)!!

Anyone can join in and help me celebrate — anons are most certainly welcome!! Spread the word!!

Requests for these blurbs are CLOSED — you can find the masterlist for the celebration HERE!

My lovely fellow writers - if you’re looking for a challenge, you’re more than welcome to choose a prompt of your own and work you’re magic on it…I’d love to see what you create! 🧡

I can’t wait to write and share some blurbs with y’all!!

**please make sure to include the sentence you choose in your ask!! — I’ve numbered them in case you can’t pick and want to use a number generator to decide (or if you feel like doing that anyway 👀👀)

Three Word Sentence Prompts:

“Come to bed.”

“Let it go.”

“Stay right there.”

“Talk to me.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Close the door.”

“I love you.”

“What the fuck?”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Look at me.”

“Look at you.”

“Why right now?”

“Go to sleep.”

“I missed you.”

“I need you.”

“Happy or sad?” (I couldn’t resist it)

“Figure it out.”

“Kiss me, please.”

“How about no?”

“Yes or no?”

“Let me in.”

“I’m so happy.”

“You’re bleeding, (name).”

“Forget about it.”

“Honey, please stop.”

“Listen to me.”

“Listen to yourself.”

“How dare you.”

“Don’t say anything.”

“Then prove it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Say it again.”

“Are you jealous?”

“You look funny.”

Five Word Sentence Prompts:

“I don’t know how to.”

“You’re not listening to me.”

“Why did you say that?”

“Can you repeat that again?”

“Do you actually love me?”

“Say what you want to.”

“How did you do that?”

“Are you happy right now?”

“Forget I ever said that.”

“I just needed some quiet.”

“Isn’t it beautiful out here?”

“You look beautiful like that.”

“Why’re you looking at me?”

“Did you even miss me?”

“This time I mean it.”

“Please stay with me tonight.”

“You’re more fun to miss.”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“I like how that sounds.”

“Wouldn’t you want to know?”

“Who did this to you?”

“Do you know you’re bleeding?”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Will you just kiss me?”

“I guess I should go.”

“I’ll break before I bend.”

“I would wait for you.”

“I believe this is yours.”

“I know you want to.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Where do we go now?”

“Look at me right now.”

“Why are we here anyway?”

“I didn’t get your name.”

divider credit

[keepblr-writing-challenge]

RULES:

be respectful towards other's writing

anyone can participate, you do not need to inform me! simply write what you want, mention the prompt and tag me on that post / reblog the prompt with your writing. (If you choose to post it on ao3, just put the link on a tumblr post, and do the same.)

please give your works a title. this isn't necessary for wips, but ficlets and fics do require a title.

add trigger warnings where appropriate

there will be about 3 featured works each round. if you feel that my pick of works is biased, you may find somewhere else to participate.

ask to be added to my taglist here. you will be tagged for all three challenges.

feel free to use the ask box for your questions.

i will be tracking #keepblrweekly

I will post prompts thrice a week; Wednesdays, Fridays and Sundays.

WIP WEDNESDAYS: post the last five sentences of any kotlc wip of yours. go crazy! just because you haven't finished writing the story does not mean it shouldn't be appreciated. provide context, or don't, it's your choice. these do not get featured works, as the whole point of them is that they are wips.

FICLET FRIDAYS: write a ficlet using a word i choose as a prompt. the word can be mentioned as many or as few times as you wish, as long as it's used once. The word limit (and it has one 😔) is 500. I will link some featured works (with permission from the author.) You may choose not to abide by the word limit, or post late, but your work will not be considered for featured works.

SHIP SUNDAY: i will give you two tropes as prompts. your job is to write a fic using one or both of those tropes in a fic, with any ship of your choice. minimum length for this is 1k, but there is no maximum. you can choose to make these as long as you want, but if the fully completed work is not uploaded somewhere i can access within 7 days of the prompt being posted, it can't qualify for featured. however, if you originally posted a oneshot and later decided to go back to it, and expand more, feel free to do so. it's still your work-- i have no rights over it.

I will always ask for your permission before featuring your work, if I fail to do so, do not hesitate to remind me. My timezone is GMT+8, so I will post depending on my schedule. I will always wait 24 hours after the prompt is posted before considering featured works. This is open for everyone; you need not sign up, or inform me whether or not you're participating.

If you have any questions or queries about this, feel free to ask.

Have fun and happy writing!!!

[buckets-and-trees]

He Bought a Studio

Fandom: MCU Title: He Bought a Studio Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Natasha Word Count: 4.3k Summary: In an alternate universe where Steve stayed, Natasha lived, and everyone settled down in the Big Apple, this chronicles a Winter Soldier's decent into opening up a dance studio for the Black Widow he's become totally besotted with in super soldier retirement, and many things that come with it. Almost titled, "Five Times Natasha Romanoff Was Right To Be Suspicious Of Bucky Barnes."

Content Warnings: brief smut (oral female receiving), fluff, feelings, a goddaughter, soft former assassins

Additional Notes: Filling my eighth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - B4 "Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow" and clocking in week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer to fill the prompt "Who's This?"/my pet, my lover, my slave.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

ONE

With reputations that rivaled each other as the world’s most efficient assassin and effective spy respectively, Bucky and Natasha were too suited to each other to ever forge a life with anyone else. They could compete in skill and intellect, they challenged each other, but more than anything else they understood each other – bleeding ledgers something they didn’t have to explain, good and bad days reconciling the past something they didn’t have to clarify. No judgement.

It's also difficult for either of them to surprise the other.

But she can admit she was not expecting anything even close to this.

She blinks furiously, using the pretense of rotating on the spot to take in the space – its smooth hardwood floors and pristine mirrored walls haunting in the mostly-darkened room, one of three or four in the facility if she had assessed correctly – to turn away from his intense gaze directly on her face for a moment.

“You bought a ballet studio,” she says, the words still thicker through her throat than she had hoped they would be.

The feelings competing in her chest are at once heartbreaking and hopeful.

He just hums in confirmation.

“You bought a ballet studio,” she repeats, this time a whisper, but she knows he hears. He hears everything, including the racing of her heart.

Bucky reaches for her hand and tugs her back to him. “Don’t you want to know why?”

“Because you have too goddamn much money from the government settlements?”

“That and my sister loved to dance. You loved to dance. You could dance again.”

“You gonna dance with me, Barnes?” she teases.

He shakes his head and laughs, opening his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off.

“No excuses – between when you grew up and the dance training all Russian assets got, I know you can dance.”

“Agree to run the dance side of the Barnes Ballet Academy and I’ll dance with you whenever you want,” he says, pulling her into his chest and arranging them into an appropriate dance position, one hand holding hers, the other moving to the small of her back.

She yields for a moment, resting her head against his shoulder, and he begins to sway them back and forth slowly to some imaginary music.

“Why did you really buy a ballet studio, Buck?”

He sighs, then kisses the top of her head. “We can’t have everything together, but I can give you this. It’s not…”

He can’t or won’t finish the sentence, but she swallows painfully and then finishes it for him. “It’s not kids.”

“But these rooms can be filled with them every afternoon. Since I bought the studio, I will take care of all the business, and you can just worry about dancing and coaching. Besides, what else is a retired super soldier supposed to do?”

TWO

When she closes the door of the Brooklyn apartment behind her, it’s the wrong kind of quiet.

She fully expected to hear Bucky in the kitchen getting dinner ready or maybe on the phone with the contractor, a choreographer, another instructor, or the parent of a potential student.

“Barnes?”

No answer.

Something is not right. The lights are on like he’s home, but there isn’t a single sound, and all her instincts from her former life kick in, eyes scanning the living room, weight shifting forward on her feet, adopting a predatory stance. Moving down the hallway, she slips her hand behind one of the pictures on the wall, retrieving a gun stashed there only she and Bucky know about, and continues moving slowly and silently on.

Then she hears a scoff from the study.

Natasha’s brows knit together. A scoff?

As she rounds the corner into the study, an immediate assessment of the room is enough to tell her she has no need for defense and lowers her gun. Her boyfriend is on the couch, back to her, engrossed in watching something on his phone with noise-cancelling headphones in. She glides back into the hallway to replace the weapon so it’s at the ready in case of a real threat in the future, and heads back to investigate. She places a hand on his shoulder, and he turns abruptly, smiling when he sees her and pulls out an earbud.

“What’s a girl got to do earn her supper around here?”

He glances at his watch. “Oh, sorry, Nat! I lost track of time with this,” he says, gesturing to the iPad on his lap.

“What are you even watching?”

He smirks, but she can detect a trace of embarrassed color his cheeks. “Save the Last Dance. Here,” he takes her hand off his shoulder and tugs her around the couch and pulls her onto the cushion beside him. He then grabs the remote, turns on the flatscreen television, and throws the movie up from his tablet so they can both watch. “I was only ten minutes in, so we can start over from the beginning.”

Natasha snorts. “You’re really watching this?”

“Of course, I’m watching it! I own a ballet studio! It’s important for me to have a full understanding of the cultural benchmarks and stereotypes that are part of the dance world.”

“What, are you going to watch every dance-centric film and television show out there?”

“Maybe I will,” he responds, a defiant cock of his chin.

Now she just grins and cuddles up into him. “Fine, but I’m ordering in Thai,” she says and taps away quickly at her phone to secure their dinner. When she sets her phone down, she notices there’s also a stack of DVDs on the shelf under the TV, and she can see four of them are from the Step Up franchise, a copy of Center Stage, and Dirty Dancing and Dirty Dancing: Havannah Nights.

For the next few days, Bucky seems to be watching one of the many films he’s continuing to accumulate or an episode of So You Think You Can Dance or Dance Moms either actively or in the background whenever it’s convenient. He’s always a bit incredulous though in his idle commentary and many unconscious scoffs when the latter is playing.

“You know you don’t have to finish that,” she says.

“I always finish what I start, Romanoff.”

“But you do know there are eight seasons, right? It’s important to me that you know there are eight seasons.”

“And I will happily watch them all.”

“Happily?” she jeers.

“I said what I said.”

“Nerd.” She rolls her eyes, but affectionately, and heads out for her meeting with a potential guest choreographer for the girls. There are so many parts of this life she never would have predicted for herself, and a boyfriend obstinately binge-watching reality tv about the dance world wouldn’t even have made the bottom of the list of possibilities.

THREE

For all the dance tv and movie consumption she’d had by proximity when Bucky had started down this ballet studio ownership journey, nothing had prepared Nat for the reality of it.

The way these girls showed up was endearing.

Some of them were a little trying, but they also all tried to do their best. Ballet was demanding and it could be competitive, but Nat worked diligently to establish a teaching staff and culture that focused on grit and community as much as it did on technique.

It was harder with the parents. Some of them still jockeyed for standing both for themselves and their offspring.

She certainly appreciated some of the parents and guardians more than others, but she didn’t want to discount any of them since, for better or worse, they all played integral parts in the lives of her girls, and those experiences affected how they could show up any given day on that dance floor.

Steve’s one of the parents who plays a part in the community, his five-year-old Sarah – Nat and Bucky’s goddaughter – just old enough to start in the youngest class of ballerinas. Steve’s somewhat adopted one of the giant hulking men – Kyle, who’s a single father to one of the other girls in Sarah’s class – always making sure the working-class man feels comfortable and like this can be “the village” that helps.

Nat’s speaking with both men when she feels the intensity of a gaze she’s grown intimately familiar with.

Bucky’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and he’s in conversation with his assistant and two of the community dance class instructors (ballet runs every afternoon, but to make use of the facility and to generate enough money to make it financially sustainable, he’s implementing evening classes across disciplines for adults from simple barre and Zumba to ballroom).He’s talking to them, but he’s mostly looking at her, and when they lock eyes, he glances down to his own hand, then flicks his eyes back up to her before returning his focus to the three people in his immediate vicinity. She takes the hint, and watches as his right hand taps out a message in morse code on his vibranium bicep:

Need you in the office.

Natasha doesn’t frown in front of Steve or Kyle but gives a believable excuse to extract herself and makes her way to the office, navigating with purpose but without drawing attention to their office. He knew the schedule of this place like clockwork, and so to pull her away this close to a class almost never happened.

Within forty-five seconds, she hears his steps approaching and then the turn of the doorknob ahead of his entrance.

She arches one eyebrow, but, Oh…

She knows exactly what that look means.

She can’t help the low laugh that erupts from her chest, but it’s cut off immediately as he crosses the room and claims her mouth in a kiss, lips searing heat, desperate, consuming. His hands were already slipping into the top of her leggings, and his fingers hitched into the band of her underwear, pulling them down in one smooth motion as he forced her back to his desk. He’s never miscalculated anything in his life, so she doesn’t hit the desk clumsily – he lifts her deftly to deposit her on the smooth wooden surface the split second before her hips would’ve knocked into it.

No one else had ever engulfed her with this kind of passion, and she would never get enough of this, of him.

And yet as he trails his lips down the column of her throat, she has to protest, “Buck, I have to be back out there in five minutes.”

“I know. Still need you.”

When he laves his tongue at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, her head rolls back, and she moans, but then she pushes against his chest. “You can wait, you’ll survive.” Though she isn’t quite sure she could now that he had her blood running hot for more.

“Fine, I don’t need you,” he concedes, but then he looks directly into her eyes and his voice drops, “I want you now, and you know I always finish what I start, Romanoff.”

His hands move up her bare legs, thumbs caressing the crease at the top of her thighs, too close to her cunt not to make her heart race, and he smirks.

“Barnes…”

He sinks to his knees, ducks under the fabric of the only partially removed bottoms, and slots himself between her legs, pulling her hips to the edge of the desk before he spits on her slit.

“I can apply my efficiency,” he asserts and presses a kiss onto the tender flesh of her inner thigh resting over his shoulder.

“Cocky bast–”

His mouth directly on her clit cuts her off abruptly. Her folds were slick for him with the intensity of the previous moments, but he mixes her arousal and his spit with his thumb and then slips two fingers inside her channel, seeking the spot he knows so well, the one he knows will quickly bring her to her peak. He makes only a few slow strokes while licking her bud before speeding up, determined to make good on his promise.

Natasha hands go to his head, fingers both carding through and gripping his hair. He hums against her pussy, and her breaths come in short gasps as he continues hurtling her toward ecstasy on the tips of his fingers and tongue. He earnestly strokes her g-spot and then turns his licks to fervent sucking of her bud, and that does it, white heat breaking over her, all her muscles seizing up and then relaxing as he pushes her through it.

She shakes her head, laughing again when he looks up at her, the expression on his face one that would be too smug if he hadn’t earned it. He truly knows her expertly, intimately, in every way.

He extracts himself from between her thighs and helps her redress while she catches her breath. “I wanted you now,” he says, “but for the rest of the afternoon you’ll be thinking about how much I’ll need you later.”

Nat glares at him teasingly. “I have to go out there and–“

“Or you don’t. You have an assistant coach.”

“Unlike some of us, I’m nothing if not a goddamn professional.”

“In every way,” he agrees, though his tone changed. Warmer. Softer. “I’m more than aware.”

And now her heart races again, not due to the physical ministrations but for the undeniable devotion behind those words. She pulls him close again for a sound kiss, which he returns, encircling her softly in his embrace.

After a moment he pulls away and lets her go.

“Two minutes to get to the classroom,” he says. He opens the top right drawer of his desk and pulls out a tin of mints, offering them to her and taking a couple for himself. 

FOUR

Natasha hears the clink and slide of metal as Bucky’s key finally slots into the lock of the front door, and so she slides off the counter and turns on the panini press. She doesn’t make much else, but she’s become a bit of a sandwich artist and can make many a good combination, upping her game with grilled sandwiches after the acquisition of the panini press for her birthday.

God, they were so stupidly domestic now, and it was terrible and wonderful all at once.

“You’re finally home!” she calls out from the kitchen, hearing him stride down the hallway towards her. Strange, he usually drops his keys and hangs his jacket before settling in.

“Hi,” he says, popping his head around the corner.

Nat frowns. “Barnes, why are you home so late?”

They often took turns getting home late with different things going on at the studio, but usually it was with a hello and straightaway the explanation since they both care so much for everything happening in their dance world.

He slowly steps around the edge of the doorframe and into the kitchen, cradling the bulge of something held within his jacket.

“Barnes?”

He takes a few steps closer. “My queen–“

“You have never one day in your life called me your queen,” she interrupts, still wary, but now also bemused.

“I could, though. You know I'm your lover, a willing slave to your every wish.”

“You are two feet away from me, stop pouring on the charm and stalling and show me what’s in your jacket.”

His eyes are sparkling with mischief and his smile is sheepish as he looks down. It made her heart already melt and want to bend for whatever is coming. The thought crosses her mind that it’s a look he must’ve had on his face countless times when he was growing up.

“I didn’t ask you before buying a dance studio, and, full disclosure, I already bought everything we need – that being part of why I’m so much later tonight – and we can take it all back if you say no, but I rescued a cat from the alley behind the studio today.”

And with that, he turns and opens the front of his leather jacket to reveal a snow-white cat who looks very cozy tucked in where she was against his chest. Nat knows how comfy it is to be tucked up against that exact spot, it’s one of her favorite places to be.  

Nat just grins and shakes her head. Stepping forward, she slowly extends her hand toward the cat. The feline inclines her head, sniffs the tips of her fingers, then bumps her head to stroke herself against Natasha’s hand.

“You are such a softie,” she says, pulling Bucky down by the collar and planting a kiss on his lips.

“So, we can keep her?”

“Yes.”

He kisses her again, then leans down and places the cat on the kitchen floor. “Right, Alpine, you stay here with Nat, and I’ll be right back with your things.”

And in less than a second, he’s already out the door.

Nat puts the sandwiches she had already prepared on the grill, pulls the press closed, and then turns back to look at the cat, who is sitting primly back on her haunches and watching her.

“Alpine, huh?”

The cat blinks up at her.

“This man. How’d HYDRA’s most ruthless assassin end up like this, eh?”

Alpine takes a few steps forward and brushes up against her leg before turning and then heading out of the kitchen, likely back to the door to wait for Bucky.

FIVE

Nat approaches the bedroom doorway silently, preparing to surprise the two individuals laughing inside, but then the peals of laughter and tiny giggles cease, and she hears two bodies plop onto the bed – one big, one small. The door is slightly ajar, and she can see the super soldier and his goddaughter panting, sprawled out on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling. She loves seeing Bucky like this with Sarah and so decides to give them another moment and observe from the darkness of the hallway.

“I still don’t want to go to bed.” Nat’s face splits into a smile, knowing this Sarah mode all too well. Though it is difficult, summoning up all her godmotherly skills and fortitude, she can handle it well enough when necessary, but Bucky? No way.

“I know. But you’re already on your bed. I’ve won.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep, Uncle Bucky!”

“I’ll read you two picture storybooks or as much as you want from a chapter book, and then sleep. How’s that for a deal?”

“Deal!”

Nat stays in the shadows as she watches Sarah jump down from the bed, run to her bookshelf, and return with what looks like one of her Ramona books. Sarah thought she’d gotten the best deal, tricking her godfather into more reading with a chapter book, but Nat knows Bucky always wants Sarah to pick the latter because it means he’d read to her until she is softly snoring.

Sarah Marie Rogers has the former Winter Soldier irrevocably wrapped around her tiny fingers – had done since she was born and had only become more adept over the years at making him melt time and time again.

And it is as she’s watching him smooth Sarah’s hair down and pull the covers up over her little body with such tenderness that Nat knows why he’d brought home a cat last month, bought a building to turn into a dance studio a year and a half ago, and asked her on a date three years ago.

Her.

Sarah had changed everything.

Logistically, Steve had retired, and that removed him from the orbit of their team and their missions, resulting in slightly more time that she interacted with Bucky before they retired, but she’d never sat back and critically analyzed what had changed before that.

Sarah had changed her, too, no question.

But now she can see it.

Sarah was the first baby born close to Bucky, and he’d been smitten and over the moon about her immediately.

She was the first thing the man had loved unconditionally and without apology, a love unrestrained that he had never experienced in possibly any way similar since before he went away to war. Bucky didn’t have to justify it, it just blossomed, taking root in his soul, fully uncovering in a flash the warmth that had mostly been buried for ninety years and probably would have taken so much longer to emerge otherwise. 

“Sar, I gotta ask you a question,” Bucky says as he settles in next to Sarah with the book, drawing Nat’s attention back to the moment at hand.

She knew that tone – playful but with something serious underneath. She is always suspicious of that tone.

“Okay.”

“Let me show you something first.” Bucky digs into his pocket and pulls out a sparkling engagement ring.

Nat’s heart leaps into her chest, and it is only due to a lifetime of training to be imperceptible at all times that keeps her from gasping outright at the sight.

Sarah did gasp and ooooh appropriately though.

“Is that for Auntie Nat?” she chirps with excitement.

“I think so. I know you wanted me to marry you, and I still will if that’s what you want, but what if I married Auntie Nat?”

“Hmm,” she reaches out and delicately traces her tiny fingers over the ring Bucky was letting her examine. “That might be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Well, I was thinking, you’re going to be really old when I’m finally ready to get married.”

“Oh, that might be true,” he agrees, barely holding back a laugh.

“Yeah. You might be really wrinkly when I’m done with school, and I was thinking maybe I would marry someone else instead.”

“Sar… you say that like you already have someone in mind…”

“I don’t know for sure, I’m still deciding if I want to marry them or not!”

“Is it someone in your class?”

Nat bites her lip, grinning. She was certain she knew exactly who was being considered after seeing the kids in Sarah’s class picking up her goddaughter a few times from school.

“Maaaaaybe.”

“Well, okay. Only if I approve. Do you approve of Auntie Nat?”

Sarah nods eagerly. “I do. She is pretty, and kind, and the best ballet teacher, and she makes you laugh, and she does my hair in the good braids, and she is so smart, and always takes me for ice cream when I ask her, and has loved me my whole life, so I think it would be okay if you marry her.”

“Those are some of my favorite things, too,” Bucky says. “If you promise to keep it a secret that I’m gonna ask her, I promise you can be the flower girl at the wedding, deal?” He palms the ring and extends his pinky finger.

Without hesitation, Sarah locks her pinky with his. “Deal!” she agrees, beaming up at him. “Now read me my book.”

She snuggles down into his side, and he rolls his eyes. “You are a demanding little thing.”

“Daddy says it’s good to let people know exactly what you want.”

“Of course, he does.” Bucky leans down to kiss the top of her head, then wraps his arm around her and opens the book on his lap so they both can see as he starts to read, and Nat decides to retreat to the living room to let them have more time together.

SIX

Nat rolls her shoulders and yawns, turning to lay on her back. She frowns upon discovering Bucky’s side of the bed is uncharacteristically empty, the happy weight of Alpine sleeping atop the blankets at foot of their bed missing as well.

Then she registers a piercing stare from across the room and leans up only to see Bucky sitting in the decorative armchair they almost never used. He is stroking Alpine behind the ears, happily curled up in his lap, but his eyes are locked on her.

“Um, good morning, Cyborg.”

“You know.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t certain when it happened, but then I thought about it all night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had grand intentions, but you overheard everything last night. I didn’t hear you creep up on us, which means you must’ve gotten there when Sarah and I were making a ruckus, but I did hear you slip away when I started reading her Ramona, so you already know I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Nat sits up and smiles. “Oh. That. You can still pursue your grand intentions.”

“Nope, they’re ruined.”

“But I don’t know what your grand intentions are! You could still surprise me!”

“Nope, you’re expecting to be surprised.”

“You love that kind of challenge!”

“Nope, I’m obstinately averse now. I’ve decided I won’t be satisfied by anything else than seeing my ring on your finger straightaway.”

“Then you better get over here and ask me,” she says simply.

He stands, depositing Alpine softly on the chair behind him, crosses the bedroom, and kneels next to Nat’s side of the bed. With one hand, he grabs both of hers, with the other, he holds out the ring, gleaming against his black vibranium fingers. Then he lifts his gaze to hers, and all the sullen staring from moments before has melted away leaving only the pure adoration he holds for her.

“Will you?” His voice is thick with emotion.

“You know I will.”

“I don’t want to do anything except share the rest of my life with you,” he says, delicately but decisively slipping the ring onto her finger.

Nat pulls his face up to hers in a fierce kiss, and he crawls up onto the bed with her, wrapping her up in his arms, and laying her back down, ready to express again, as they had so many times over the past few years, how much they mean to each other in every way. They make vows with their words, their lips, and their bodies, giving themselves over completely as they already had, and as they would in perpetuity.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[runninriot]

20 Questions For Writers

i'm a little late because i took a break while on vacation but THANK YOU for the tag @ataliagold and @sidekick-hero 🖤

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

52

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

468,074 (written in 16 months, which is a personal achievement i'm actually quite proud of)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Steddie only for now because these boys still have me in a tight grip i can't get out of

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

thought i'd only look at the stats for the ones i wrote this year out of interest

Liberate Me

Worship Me

Sweet Thing

Tomorrow

You're A God (Be My Sinner)

5. Do you respond to comments?

always!! i appreciate everyone who's taking the time to comment on one of my fics so much. love these little interactions

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

it's 'happy endings always' in my house but the ending of Only Love could maybe count as angsty?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

it's hard to choose but Where The Sun Still Shines has one of my favourite happy endings

8. Do you get hate on fics?

people have always been very kind to me (thank you, people! 🖤)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yes and any kind? since i started the The Best You Ever Tasted series i have tried not overthink it and not to limit myself anymore when it comes to writing smut and to just go for it. there's still more to explore 😏

10. Do you write crossovers?

apart from my first ever steddie fic Real Love Is Forever (ST×The Crow mash-up), i haven't written any crossovers yet

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i think/hope not?!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope. but i'd love it if that ever happened

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

no but i think it could be a fun experience although i'm not sure i'd want to burden anyone else with the chaos that is my writing process 😅

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Steddie. don't know what it is exactly but i love them being in love and writing and reading about them makes me fucking happy

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Weight of the World. do i want to finish it? yes!!! will i ever? only the stars and moon know (it's been a year, man 😔)

16. What are your writing strengths?

people have said i'm good at writing dirty smut mixed with deep emotions which is a compliment i hold dear to my heart

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

ugh. plotting/outlining, just planning ahead in general. i always start my fics with a random sentence and just take it from there which has cost me some nerves in the past because i never know what i'll end up with

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

love when people do that. i think it can be a nice way for authors (like me) who aren't native english speakers to sprinkle bits and pieces of their own first language into their fics

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Steddie (any hand-written sins from my youth are well-hidden in old notebooks and will never see the light of day again)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

oh god, that one's hard because i love all my brain babies equally but

We Are The Lifeless Stars (Shining In The Dark) is the one that broke me most

Small Treasures To Keep is my favourite prompt inspired fic (kudos to all of those amazing people providing us with writing challenges and prompts, i love you guys!)

i absoluetely loved creating Vampire Steve's background story in Show Me What It's Like (To Live On The Other Side)

Unlovable is very special to me in many ways

and Monsoon and Harrsion was probably the silliest fic idea i ever had, inspired by Jemma who came up with the names. it was so fun to write and it still makes me laugh when i think of my google search history while writing that porn actors au 😆

that was fun!

feel free to ignore me if you've already done this or don't want to but i'd love to read your answers

@thisapplepielife @morningberriesao3 @steddieas-shegoes @thefreakandthehair @steddie-island 🖤

[captainsophiestark]

Untouchable

Platonic!Bobbi Morse x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Marvel

Day 17 Prompt: "I never said it would be easy."

Summary: Bobbi Morse needs her best friend's help defending their record as the baddest bitches SHIELD's Ops Academy has ever seen.

Word Count: 2,103

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed as I settled into the cocoon of blankets I'd built in my quarters at SHIELD, a bowl of popcorn resting in my lap and my favorite show on my laptop. After running around the world almost dying for a month on a mission, I'd decided to take my first full day back at SHIELD HQ to rest, and absolutely nothing else.

At least, that had been my plan, until my best friend practically broke down my door barging into my room.

"Thank goodness you're back!" she cried, urgency in her tone. I just stared at her, bracing myself for whatever the hell she'd come in here to tell me. "We have a situation."

"Barbara Morse, I just got back from a month long mission-"

"Two new Ops recruits just beat our time on SHIELD's toughest obstacle course."

I stopped mid-sentence, popcorn and show forgotten as I stared at Bobbi and tried to process her words.

"Impossible," I finally decided, scowling. Bobbi nodded sympathetically.

"It should've been. Our record's held for years. But it just got beaten, by two barely-not-teen boys, no less. I don't think I have to tell you we can't let that stand."

"Damn right we can't," I agreed, setting my popcorn aside and throwing the blanket off of my lap. I stood, closing my laptop and going to my closet to change out of the pajama pants I'd been living in ever since I got back. "Give me like five minutes and I'll be ready to go."

"I'll go get the Quinjet ready to take off. Ops academy here we come."

We did our secret handshake that we'd come up with in our first year together at SHIELD academy, then separated to accomplish our missions. I made it out of my room in four minutes, jogging through the hallways to get to Bobbi faster. A few people waved to me and welcomed me back, but I didn't stop to chat. Bobbi and I had a new mission of peak importance to take care of, and we couldn't let anything get in our way.

For a long time, the SHIELD Ops obstacle course had been the end-all be-all of class credibility, outside of actual class rank. Recruits were expected to attempt it in pairs, and only the absolute best could make it through at all, let alone with any kind of speed. Bobbi and I had trained like maniacs until we'd blown the previous record out of the water, going down in history as the two best agents to ever take on one of the academy's hardest challenges. We coasted on that reputation for the rest of our academy career, and people still seemed impressed by it even though we'd left the academy long behind us.

Many had tried to break our record, and none had ever succeeded. One or two people had come close, but on the whole, our record seemed absolutely unbeatable. If two new recruits had come in and done the impossible, then they must've been incredibly impressive agents. And they also had to be stopped and reminded of Bobbi and I's supremacy immediately.

Bobbi brought the Quinjet in for a landing at the Academy not twenty minutes after she'd first burst into my room. The two of us marched through the hallways shoulder to shoulder, heads held high like we owned the place. And after graduating top of our class, we kind of did.

"Alright, let's see just what these two pulled off," I said, Bobbi and I slipping into one of our old classrooms and accessing the records for the obstacle course. I put their replay up on the projector, then went to take a first row seat in the auditorium with Bobbi.

"You should've brought your popcorn with you," she said. I laughed, but the laughter quickly died as the replay began.

These two first year recruits hadn't just managed to beat our record by a tenth of a second or two. They'd blown us out of the water by three whole seconds. Practically an eternity. And even worse, based on the end of the video, they clearly thought they were the hottest shit that SHIELD had ever seen as a result.

I swore loudly in the empty classroom.

"That was insane, Bob! How the hell do you expect us to beat that, especially since we haven't done this course in forever?"

"Hey, I never said it would be easy. But we have to do it, Y/N. We can't let this stand."

I groaned, rolling my eyes up to the ceiling before huffing a big sigh.

"Yeah, you're right. Do you want to do a few practice runs before we get an official timed one?"

"No, I don't. I think we go warm up in the gym, do a couple practice exercises in there, then go outside and crush that obstacle course and show everybody who's boss."

I nodded. "I like that plan. Alright, let's do this."

Thankfully, our favorite training room from our time at the agency was still here, and even better, empty. We did some stretching and warmups, ran through a few of the movements we'd need on the obstacle course, and then headed outside.

The dew of the morning still clung to the grass in the yard of the academy, and recruits ran in tight formation all around. Others trained on some of the smaller obstacle courses, or did pushups and jumping jacks. I elbowed Bobbi and nodded across the yard when I found the recruits who'd broken our record stretching out under a tree, preening like peacocks as their classmates surrounded them.

Bobbi and I shared a grin. They better enjoy it while it lasted.

"Agent Morse! Agent Y/L/N! This is a nice surprise."

Bobbi and I turned to find our absolute favorite instructor staring at the both of us, hands on her hips and a smile on her face. Agent Bailey was five foot nothing, but her strength, attitude, and experience made her seem larger than life. She was by far one of the most respected instructors across all of the SHIELD academies, and she was the only one Bobbi and I had really stayed in touch with. She'd even had us back once or twice to speak to her classes, when we weren't away on a mission.

"Agent Bailey! It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you two, too. Now, what brings you both back here? Don't tell me someone else poached you to speak to their class instead of mine?"

"No, don't worry. We would never," I said, giving her a bright smile. Bobbi nodded, then continued.

"We're actually back to reclaim our record on the obstacle course."

Bailey smiled, and clearly this wasn't a surprise to her at all. She started walking towards the start of the course, motioning for us to follow her.

"I figured as much. I wondered how long it would take the two of you to get back here once you heard." She stopped at the beginning of the course, hands on her hips as she surveyed us both. "Good. Those two who broke your record need to be taken down a peg. Their arrogance is going to get them killed, in the field if not here. They're in their first year and already think they're untouchable."

I frowned and glanced over at the tree where we'd spotted the agents in question earlier. They were still stretching, but they'd noticed us now, and were looking in our direction. I gave them a sickly sweet smile before turning back to Bailey.

"I'll time you both and make it official. Don't fail me now, you two."

With that, Bailey turned to take her place as an official administrator for the obstacle course test. I hopped around a little, bouncing on the balls of my feet and shaking out my arms. Then, I turned to Bobbi.

"You ready to do this?"

"Oh yeah. Those punks are never going to forget our names."

We high-fived, then turned to face the obstacle course, crouching a little, ready to launch forward as soon as Baily called start.

"On your marks!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few recruits wandering over to watch us, looking confused. They'd be looking on in awe in a few minutes, if Bobbi and I had anything to say about it.

"Get set!"

I took a deep breath in before letting it out, the distractions fading away. The course ahead and my partner beside me were all that mattered. Laser-like focus and efficiency was the order of the day.

"Go!"

Bobbi and I launched forward into the course, two women on a mission. We worked like a perfect machine, almost reading each others' thoughts as we launched over one obstacle and stopped to help the other right behind us. We didn't hesitate at a single challenge, and every time my muscles felt a little tired or a little upset at what I asked of them, I pushed right through. There was no room for hesitating, or slowing down, or pausing. No room for error.

After dancing through a few portions that tested agility and literally swinging through a few others that tested strength, Bobbi and I reached the final challenge, a massive wall that we had to scale before our run could be deemed complete. We hit it at a dead run, Bobbi launching upwards just ahead of me and holding out a hand to help me reach the first level. I used the momentum and her help to make it to the second level, and we continued steadily, working in perfect sync as we neared the top.

A button to stop the time sat waiting for us at the top, with Agent Bailey standing right behind it. Bobbi and I had to hit the button at the same time, or the clock would keep running. It was the final piece, the final test of how well we could work together and remain in sync even through exhaustion.

I made it to the top, turning back to hold out a hand for Bobbi. I pulled her up while she climbed, and as soon as she made it to stable footing, I turned on my heel and ran for the button. I could feel Bobbi a half step behind me, closing just in time as I reached out my hand.

As one, our hands slammed down on the button, Bobbi's already on top of mine as we made contact. The button lit up to tell us the clock had come to a stop, and we both looked to Bailey with hopeful, expectant looks.

All around us, as the world outside the obstacle course came back into focus, the recruits training in the yard stood staring up at us on the platform. I noticed the two boys at the front of the crowd, watching Bailey with bated breath as intensely as me and Bobbi. A moment later, Bailey raised her arms and shouted:

"We have a new course record!"

"YES!"

"LET'S GO!"

Bobbi and I screamed and jumped up and down, immediately wrapping each other in a tight hug. I laughed, a joyous, almost disbelieving laugh, and when we pulled apart Bobbi was absolutely beaming at me.

"Agents Morse and Y/L/N have set a new record by a margin of two point seven seconds."

"HELL YES!" I screamed. Bailey gave us each a small smile, then her face dropped back to her usual no-nonsense baseline.

"Their time and a replay of their run will be posted and available within the hour. Everyone else, back to your exercises! You're not here to stand around all day!"

Slowly, the crowd of recruits started to disperse. The two boys who'd held the record for all of a few hours stared up at us in awe until their instructor came to pull them away. I shot them a wink and a wave.

"Nice work, partner," said Bobbi, smiling as she leaned in and bumped her shoulder against mine. "I guess we've still got it."

"Of course we've still got it. We're the dream team, absolutely unbeatable."

We shared a smile. After a second, Bobbi sighed, stretching out her arms and taking a few steps towards the easy way down from the platform we'd climbed up to.

"So, wasn't it worth it that I dragged you out of bed this morning?"

"Worth it? Yes. Enough to make me stay up and about when I've been in a safe place to relax for the first time in a full month? Hell no."

"Mind if I join you in your relaxing? I'm not due to ship out for another mission until the end of the week."

I smiled. "Sure thing. But I'm not sharing my popcorn."

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @luv-ghostie @songbirdcannabe