#i spent ages on the last question and then got distracted by something else completely and just now remembered i didnt post this lol

[rememberthelaughtermp3]

9, 17, and 30? :D

thx for the ask!!

9: A song that makes you happy?

na na na never fails to make me smile, but theres plenty more i could probably list.

17: A song that would sing a duet with on karaoke?

get out by circa survive maybe? i dont really know that many songs that are duetable tbh

30:A song that reminds you of yourself?

headfirst for halos or honey this mirror, i cant choose

[dogmetaph0r]

SIC ‘EM

Chapter 2: Speak

A/N: So sorry y'all, I promised Fia's POV a while back but this chapter was literally longer than Ch 1 by SEVERAL pages by the time I got there, so I figured I'd split it up a bit. There's like no Fia in this one, my sincerest apologies. This one's a very big exciting chunk of content though, I prommy! Side note, this one was posted relatively quickly after the last one only because I'd already had the biggest portion of it done, so I can't promise a consistent posting schedule. Also, I think I'm gonna start adding song recs based on what I listen to while writing each chapter just to give you guys a PB-esque soundtrack for your montage moments, which will be updated over time just like the main playlist. Enjoyyy!

Pairings: M!OC x F!OC, M!OC x Tommy Shelby

Warnings: descriptions of violence, mental health issues, animal abuse/injury, internalized homophobia, one (1) singular antiquated homophobic slur

Soundtrack: De Selby (Part 2) - Hozier // The Distance - Cake // D Is for Dangerous - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: As the Grand National approaches, Sam reflects on the time he's spent as the Blinders' spy. New friends are made and old grudges resurface as the Aintree heist progresses. Before the race can begin, a few bumps in the road raise a frightening question: who else has a stake in their game?

It was surprisingly easy to find employment at Aintree Racecourse. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the mysterious disappearance of their in-house farrier, but he knew better than to question Tommy or Paul about the face he was seeing in the papers. In any case, with the rate Aintree was paying him for work in and around the stables he had no motivation to go around blowing his own cover. For the first time since they’d run away, he and Fia had begun to accumulate enough money to do more than just survive. By the end of the summer, he reasoned, they would have enough money that Fia could take care of the baby without having to work herself into the ground on the side.

But of course nothing came without a price. Every few days, he left the racecourse only to find Paul waiting for him just outside the gates, arms crossed as though Sam had somehow already disappointed him. He was difficult to please when it came to discussing business; none of Sam’s observations were ever helpful and no amount of detail was ever enough. For the first week or two, the feedback was crushing. It was bad enough that he had to work with the Peaky Blinders to make it through the year, but to be completely shit at it? Humiliating.

Over many weeks of this routine, though, Paul had eventually started to warm up to him, seeing him as less of an inconvenience to his day and more of a fellow collaborator of the Peaky Blinders. He was a grumpy middle-aged man, not much of a talker, but with a pint or two in him he began to loosen up enough to share a few words about his own life. It had become their routine. Both of them would meet up outside of Aintree after Sam had left the stables, and from there they’d make their way to the Queen’s Arms for a drink and something to eat. They’d make small talk about work and football (Paul was particularly passionate about Liverpool, and had nearly gone into cardiac arrest when Sam shyly expressed his preference for Manchester City), but Paul’s favorite topic hands-down was family. Sam was more than happy to let him dominate the conversation in these cases.

“You know,” he rumbled around a mouthful of shepherd’s pie roughly a week before the Grand National, “I’ve got a wife and kids meself. Second wife, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam was only half listening, distracted by the storm clouds gathering on the other side of the thick, distorted windowpane to his right. Would the vardo hold up? It had been over a month since he’d last patched the roof, and that was only because the cold had shrunk the old wood, revealing little cracks and signs of wear along the frame. Since then it had rained a handful of times, but by the tetchiness this afternoon of the horses stabled early for the race, this storm would be harsh. He wondered if he ought to head home early, see to his own horses’ hooves and make sure they weren’t at risk of any infection-bearing cracks–

“...and yeah, they ain’t all that bright, but they’re me own boys so I’ve no choice but to love ‘em, thick skulls and all.” Paul chuckled at his own anecdote, rubbing his red stubbled chin with one hand.

Guilt lurched at the bottom of Sam’s stomach for ignoring his friend (acquaintance? colleague?) so readily. Paul was nice enough now that he and Sam had begun to establish a rapport, and it was clear that he didn’t have too many friends of his own. Lost most in the Great War, he’d told him grimly. The Somme. Sam didn’t have to ask to know that the pain of loss haunted Paul in those strange gaps between words, the times when Sam had let the silence sit between them. Perhaps that was why he was so eager to fill the space with beer. Sam had never been the type of boy to make many friends as a child, and had a habit of hiding behind his father’s legs around strangers. The Great War had forced him just far enough out of his shell to bond with his fellow soldiers, but many either died or had to return home to different countries. Well-practiced in being alone, Sam had not minded as much as he thought he ought to.

“You look tired, lad.”

The comment startled Sam out of his head. He blinked owlishly at Paul before realizing exactly what it was that he had said, which made him avert his eyes and prod his fork around the modest serving of pie that he’d hardly eaten. “Guess so,” he muttered, shrugging. “It’s been a lot of work, s’all. Not that that’s a bad thing.”

Paul grunted his agreement. “Tommy asks a lot of us, don’t he? Never seems to come around here for himself.”

“Oh, I dunno.” Sam gazed out the window again at the racecourse. “He’s probably just trying to keep things running in Birmingham, is all. Must be tiring.”

Except Sam knew how tiring it was. He’d seen it firsthand. Tommy had come to visit his camp several times over the course of the past month, just to check in and gather information directly on Aintree and its key players. As validating as it felt to have Tommy himself care about the fine details that Paul hadn’t needed, it had been irritating, at first– why couldn’t he leave Sam be and let Paul give him the salient details? Hadn’t he anything better to do back in sooty, stinking Birmingham that didn’t involve bothering him? It seemed like every time he visited, he seemed more worn than the last. The commute couldn’t be helping him. He’d stayed overnight before, the work week being so exhausting that Sam feared he might fall asleep behind the wheel of that noisy automobile of his. As much as Sam hadn’t liked Tommy, he wasn’t a monster. He knew when to insist that Tommy consider his own wellbeing. Fia’d offered him the bed in the vardo out of strained politeness, but he preferred the tent every time. Just feels right to see the stars, he’d said. He didn’t see them as well in Birmingham, apparently. Too much smog.

After about the third of these visits, it became strangely… nice to have Tommy as a guest. He was a good conversationalist, a man of few but carefully chosen words. He was also very polite and apologetic about his visits, and as grating as it was to put up with Tommy’s newfound high-class mask, it was refreshing to have someone treat him as a respectable peer rather than a blue-collar nobody. Better yet, after Tommy had stayed a while, Sam could physically see the charade fall when the night air finally reached that part of his spirit that longed to roam. The north did him well, it seemed.

It was strange, then, that Paul hadn’t seen him so much. Perhaps he was tired of life in the city and just needed a break in the countryside, and Paul was just too far into town to justify the extra few miles. Perhaps– and Sam puffed up with pride at the possibility –his observations weren’t mostly useless, and Tommy preferred to go to the source when the weekly telegram didn’t say enough. Sam and Tommy would talk for long hours when he visited, not just about business but about their lives in general. Something about the topics he spoke about kept his attention far more than Paul did, bless him, and perhaps it was the same for Tommy. Maybe Sam’s curiosity stemmed from their similar upbringing, Tommy being born on a narrowboat and Sam learning how to ride a horse practically as soon as he could walk. They had that interest in common, at least. There had been more than one lighthearted argument over the best way to check the condition of an auction colt’s gut or the ideal feed for a work horse versus a race horse.

Or maybe Sam was just fascinated by the way he spoke, smooth and low with such a quietly commanding presence. He had a brilliant mind, that was for sure. In the late hours, after sharing a meal (Tommy had supplied gamefowl from his own sprawling property more than once, to Fia’s delight but Sam’s slight embarrassment as the supposed breadwinner) they would sit around the fire with whiskey. Fia would retire early, tired as she was from mending garments in nearby Lowton. Conversation without her then usually drifted to those darker topics that Sam liked to keep from troubling her with: war and loss and struggle. Success, sometimes, at a steep price. It didn’t matter so much what exactly their conversations were about; Sam had enough space in his head to ruminate on his fears plenty on his own. What really intrigued him was hearing Tommy talk, that strange Birmingham accent lilting his vowels in a repetitive up-down cadence. He didn’t know why it was so charming, other than the fact that it was so novel.

One such night, after Sam had made the executive decision for Tommy to not wrestle with the winding back roads when the sun had long gone down, Tommy broke their usual pattern of conversation to make an observation: “You don’t have anywhere for the winter, do you, Samuel?”

The question jarred him. In all their time discussing their shared pasts, Tommy had never shown interest in what happened to him past the end of their agreement. “I guess not, no,” he muttered, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he took a moment to gaze up at the night sky. “Figured I’d try my luck in Liverpool.”

Tommy nodded, silent for a moment. Sam had thought that was the end of the conversation when a second question startled him out of his anxious planning. “You could come to Arrow House in Warwickshire.” He took a puff of his cigarette, leaning against the wheel of the vardo at his back to follow Sam’s gaze. “We have plenty of land there. Esme’ll be glad to come visit her sister and the new baby for a season. If it snows, we have more guest rooms than we know what to do with.”

Sam blinked in shock for a second before recovering with a scoff. “What, that big mansion too lonely without a pack of us travelers takin’ up on your lawn?” A clear deflection. The generosity grated on him as much as it warmed something in his chest.

Tommy had just tilted his head, smiling. “Something like that.” He passed his flask of whiskey– the good stuff –back to Sam. “Consider it. My Grace wouldn’t mind. I mean, you’re family, after all. And I know what you’re thinking, so I’ll tell it to you straight now.” He looked back at Sam, sky blue eyes considerably softer with the liquor in his system. “I’d be happy to have you there, Samuel.”

What a strange feeling, to be wanted anywhere.

Paul hummed contemplatively, breaking him from his thoughts. “He’s a mysterious one, ain’t he?”

“Sure is.” Sam took a gulp from his pint, shoveling down a chunk of the pie for good measure. No use in letting a good meal go to waste, especially one that Paul had treated him to since Sam had, according to him, looked about ready to keel over. “Can never guess what he’s gonna say next.”

“By the way,” Paul mirrored a swig of his own beer, wiping the foam off his upper lip with the sleeve of his shirt. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Sam raised a brow, gesturing with his head for Paul to continue.

Paul glanced around at the few other patrons before leaning in, elbows on the sticky table. “A few of the lads down at the Swan and Gosling have been talking about the betting, an’ I want in on the action. Any clue where Tommy’s favor is gonna go? He usually tells the boys where to lay the smart bet.”

That drew a slight chuckle out of Sam. For all his stone-faced gruffness, Paul was just as prone to games of chance as any of them. “Wish I could tell you for certain,” he said, shaking his head. “Could go many ways. Reigning champion is Senator, but there’s also Pride-o’-Coventry, Grands Honneurs… and the newcomer,” he punctuated the revelation with a point of his finger, “Little Tsarina. She’s sound, I tell you. Her jockey’s starting to get noticed. She’ll likely be the favorite after the Grand National, so you’d better make your large bets early in her career with the rising odds she’s at. I can’t speak for Tommy, but that’s who I’d pick.”

Paul snorted. “That’s just like you, betting on the underdog.”

Sam shook his head, smiling. “What can I say? You stick around the stables long enough, you hear all sorts of things.”

“Cheers to that.”

The morning of the Grand National, Tommy startled awake with the scent of wet earth stuck in his nostrils and the sound of shovels grating at his ears. Not for the first time, he guiltily longed for the days of opium hazes and the lingering headaches the mornings after to keep his mind away from those dark corners. Tommy was no stranger to hiding the tremor that lingered in his hands, nor unskilled at explaining away the sweat beading on his brow. Just anticipation. Just the weather. Just a cold. Despite this, the bumpy ride from Birmingham to Aintree in the oversized delivery vehicle– borrowed from Uncle Charlie, who got it from lord-knows-where –did nothing to quell the queasiness rising in his stomach. This day had been planned and examined from every angle, each possible obstacle picked apart in at least five different ways. It would be perfect, he had told himself a dozen times over. It had to be.

Tommy had chosen a handful of skilled Blinders from various backgrounds to make this all go right. Ed and Albert, a double act, were skilled at sleight of hand. Common pickpockets as children, but made snipers by war, the friends were both sly and disciplined. They would be lookouts, giving signals before the race and stealing licenses when the real fun started. Jim Casey on the other hand was a bit of a simpleton, but he could take a hit and return it twice as hard without hesitation. He would be their muscle, and could be relied upon to take on the biggest threats. Harry Short, his last name being more of a bad pun than anything documented, had contracted influenza as a child and hadn’t grown very tall. That was saying something for the average height in Birmingham, but it had left him just small enough to fit into crawl spaces and tunnels. If it came down to it, Harry could get the jump on just about anyone. Richard “Ol’ Timer” Mooney was older, starting to reach his twilight years of being a Blinder as the last of Arthur Sr.’s generation, but he had an unassuming enough appearance that would make him the perfect getaway driver. With his brothers included, it was a bit of a ragtag team to bring all the way from Birmingham, but it was one that he could rely on to adapt quickly and carefully without taking their main seat of power away from home.

And then, of course, Tommy couldn’t have done it without Paul Knight. The Somme veteran was their main contact in the north, and while he wasn’t a Blinder directly, he was invaluable to the effort. He was discreet, tight-lipped, and hesitant to trust just anyone. He gave succinct details to Tommy via coded telegram and did his damnedest to make coordinating this heist easy. It was only fair, he reckoned, that Paul be included day-of in order to reap the benefits and prove himself in action. He knew the racecourse inside and out from the perspective of a frequent gambler, and while he didn’t have the sort of undercover expertise that would make him a veteran of the operation, he was a valuable man to have onsite. Besides, the extra muscle couldn’t hurt, and Tommy knew just from looking at the man that he was no stranger to a fistfight.

The head of the pack, whether he knew it or not, was Samuel. Everything hinged on his observations, from the schedule of the police officers making their rounds to the daily staff whose workplace gossip could prove invaluable. With Paul’s careful coaching, the man had become a more-than-proficient spy. Tommy’s own visits up north only reaffirmed this– late night conversations with Sam, while enjoyable in their own right, had settled his anxieties about his newest recruit’s ability to be trusted. Sam was candid and unguarded, perhaps to a fault if he’d been entrusted with any information beyond what was absolutely essential for him to know. He cared about this operation going well because he cared about Florence-Maria and his unborn child. That, in Tommy’s eyes, was enough to know that Sam would see it through.

So when he and John began to butt heads in the bright, sunny morning just fifteen minutes before Sam was due at the stables, it came as more than a bit of a shock. Hadn’t Sam voiced his concerns about being drawn into violence just a few days ago? Hadn’t he reassured him that he would be protected?

“—And if you so much as open your divvy mouth again about my family, so help me I’ll knock your lights clean out, lad.”

“Family? Mate, your da’s a looney and your mom’s all but fucked off. You’ve got fuckin’ stones to be talking about the Lees like you’re anything close to kin, just because you’re fucking the—“

“Better watch the next fuckin’ words out of your mouth, city boy—“

“Hey. Enough,” Tommy commanded, placing himself between his brother and his newest ally. John was red-faced and scowling, and despite Sam’s ever-present pallor, he wasn’t far behind with the sharpness of his own spectral glare. Tommy felt more like an undersized referee at the weigh-in before a brutal boxing match than the leader of an organized crime operation, a feeling that did not bode well for the cohesion within their little cohort. Tommy prayed to any higher power that might hear him that John knew well enough to keep his mouth shut. Sam’s cooperation, skittish as he was, depended on it.

“Tommy,” John pleaded like a boy twenty years younger, gesturing towards Sam with a broad, sweeping gesture. “He’s been provoking me the whole way here.”

“Was not,” Sam replied, equally petulant. “‘S like the moment you all picked me up from my camp, he’s been breathing down my neck. Jus’ telling him where to shove it.”

Tommy’s quick reflexes intercepted John’s sudden advance with a firm shove, while a sidelong glare admonished Sam’s attitude without having to speak a word. Sam wilted under it, ducking his head like a scolded pup.

“Right, neither of you are getting a fair cut of the pay if this keeps up.” Tommy patted John’s chest roughly, both a comfort and a warning. “Save it for the bookies, eh?”

The threat of losing out quelled their argument for the time being, but Tommy would be a fool if he thought that it was all over and done. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both men seethe as they parted, silently arguing through glares from their distance across the semicircle of men awaiting their instructions.

Arthur was the last to join them from within the black automobile, huffing and snorting with the back of his hand pressed under his nose. Right, of course. As much as he’d wanted Arthur to stay clear-headed and sober for such a high-stakes operation, it wasn’t something he’d specifically prohibited. Snow focused Arthur’s will just as much as it clouded his judgment. When wielded well, he was a one-man army in a fight. When misdirected… well, there was a reason why Tommy had a small fund set up for the mothers and sons of the men who had crossed Arthur at the wrong time. The tremor in Tommy’s hands made lighting his cigarette more difficult than it should’ve been, but that first rush of nicotine was a balm for his scattered mind.

“Alright, men,” his voice rang out, calling the rabble to attention. “You have your assignments, so I won’t waste your time. Few reminders,” he pointed at three men– Harry, Albert, and Ed. “You lot are doing a lot of heavy lifting today. Keep your eyes on the hired security, and keep your ears open for the coppers. John, Jim, and Paul, keep the guns to a minimum. Mooney, be ready to move at a moment’s notice. The goal is quick, quiet, and quit the scene. All the heat oughta be on Sam and Arthur in the bar tent. Yeah?”

John and Jim nodded, Jim elbowing his partners for the day with an exaggerated grin on his face. John wasn’t much a fan of big Jim and his tendency to lose focus after too much talking, but even he couldn’t restrain a smile at the idea that the three of them would be the heavy artillery. Paul couldn’t care less about the glory of a fist fight, but he gave Tommy a stiff, reassuring nod as he cracked the thick knuckles of all nine of his remaining fingers.

“Samuel, remember that your signal is coming from Harry. Anyone that’s not him means it’s meant for me. You’ll meet me under the grandstand to go over any changes this morning, but he’ll keep an eye out for you regardless in case I don’t make it there.” He reached out and patted Arthur’s shoulder, practically vibrating out of his skin as he was already. “And Arthur? I’m trusting you to make a scene, not a mess. No actual boxing with Samuel, eh? Just the song and dance of it. You’re the actor of us Shelbys.”

Arthur honed in on him like a hawk, pupils dilated but unmoving. Good, not too lost in the snow, then. He nodded frantically, an equally confident, broad grin crossing his face behind the spread of his mustache. “Song and dance, Tom, right.”

Sam looked a little queasy at the prospect of an unsupervised Arthur controlling himself while off his gourd. He looked to Tommy for support, but his objections were interrupted with Arthur’s booming voice.

“Naw, it’ll be alright, Sammy-boy. Y’know, me and you go back! You won’t remember, but I minded you, I did, back at Appleby in ‘99.” He laughed, rocking back on his heels like an old man lost in reverie. “Taught you to cuss while your pop was working with the ‘orses!”

With the rumbling chuckles that rose up through the small crowd of men, Sam smirked a bit, some of the nerves visibly leaking from him as his mind worked quickly to find a quip of his own. “And here I thought I learned the concept of doin’ fuckall from Danny Lee and Mack Boswell.”

Arthur laughed uproariously, throwing a lean arm around Sam’s shoulders. “Aw, we’re gonna have a time, lil’ Lovell.”

Sam shook his head fondly. “Song and dance, Arthur. Song and dance.”

Half an hour after Sam was kitted up and beginning his watchful lap of the grounds, the first round of early bird racegoers began to filter through the gates in an array of colorful silks and feathers. The thrumming of Tommy’s pulse beneath his skin urged him to go, but he needed to be patient. They couldn’t enter too early and make their faces known among the sparse crowd, especially with a group as large as theirs.

When the band started up and the crowd truly began to pour in, Tommy thumbed through a stack of brightly decorated entrance tickets. “Ed and Albert, you go on ahead,” he said, handing them each one of the little paper slips. “Bet on Tsarina today. Samuel tells me she’s the right pick. We’ve got inside eyes on the odds, boys.”

The two friends cheered, taking off with excitement towards their biggest pay day of the year. Harry was sent next with instructions to keep to the shadows and be on the lookout for weak points in the security. Mooney and John took their tickets a few minutes later, John grumbling under his breath about Sam and where he can shove his odds. That left him, Arthur, and Paul to bring up the rear.

“We ready, boys?” Arthur cracked his knuckles and stretched his tight jaw, eyes flashing with feverish eagerness.

Tommy took a moment to breathe, forcing his heartbeat to slow and ignoring the sweat prickling the back of his neck, cooling uncomfortably in the light breeze. It would be fine. It would be fine. It was an unseasonably good morning, dry and cloudless. Count the horses, count the men, count the color red in each racegoer’s dress or tie. His latest cigarette burned nearly to his lips before he let it fall to the ground, crushing out the ember with the flat of one polished shoe. Say a prayer, Thomas. Hail Mary full of grace, in the bleak midwinter, in the bleak midwinter, in the bleak midwinter.

“Ready, Arthur. Let’s give ‘em hell.”

Little Tsarina weaved in her stall, speckled nose twitching and shuddering as her grey head bobbed up and down, left and right, round and round. Sam was transfixed by the paleness of her large sclera, whale-eyed and bloodshot with anxiety. Her mouth, flecked with foamy spit, held tense in resolute resistance against the pain seizing her front right leg. She held it just barely aloft, the tip of her hoof grazing the hay beneath her.

“She’s been like this at least since the morning,” the jockey, George something-or-other, worried his lip between his teeth, shifting on his feet in much the same rhythm as his horse. “She’s never thrown a shoe before. Couldn’t find it, neither. And look,” he reached over the box and pointed at her hoof, “the way she’s holding it. Something’s wrong, but I can’t see it.”

Sam felt for the poor young man. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen, still pockmarked and pimple-spotted like an adolescent. While his older peers had gone off to war, it was clear that the boy didn’t have the years or temperament to him. Yet according to the papers, he was a prodigy on the horse. He would be a legend, soon enough. Or, at least, could’ve been. It was clear that if Little Tsarina rode today there would be no undoing her lameness. One jump could ruin her, if she even worked up the nerve.

But still… to look into the boy’s eyes and tell him no off the bat would be agony. Perhaps worse than if he’d just let him lose on his own, but Sam would never have done such a thing to such a beautiful animal. “I’ll take a look,” he sighed, resigned. “But I’ll make you no promises, yeah?”

George looked about ready to weep with relief. “Oh, please do!” He swept a hand over his shock of red hair, watching intently as Sam unlatched the lower half of the stall door.

The first thing Sam noticed was the little patch of blood beneath her hoof as she shifted away from him, still crimson and wet. This was something more serious than a loose shoe on race day.

“Hello, love,” he gentled, lowering his voice to a murmur. “Might I have a look? Yeah?”

In a person, the look Little Tsarina shot him could only be described as withering. But with no capacity for human expression, she had no clearer way to convey her message of fuck right off, mate than to point her ears back and huff warningly. Sam approached her with caution, taking a slice of dried apple out of his pocket and offering her some, which she reluctantly sniffed at, having not eaten since the night before to protect her gut. Her defiance was admirable, something that was obnoxious and ill-bred in Meska but proud and stately in a winning horse such as her. Careful not to startle her, Sam took some time to pat her neck and cheeks as she chewed, slowly moving his hands in broader circles so as not to startle her when he reached for her bad leg.

Despite her earlier hesitance, she seemed glad to no longer support her weight on a bleeding hoof, allowing Sam to hold her between his apron-clad knees as she tensed against the pain once more. From this angle, the damage was clear: a missing shoe, with one remaining nail driven far enough into the hoof to have gone way past the start of the quick. On any typical day, Sam might’ve considered this a bad accident. But this was no typical day, and she was no typical horse. And this nail, he noted, was decidedly not hers.

“How long ago was she last shod?” He asked over his shoulder, lightly brushing some of the dirt and hay away from the injury.

“Not long at all, sir. A week at most.” George peered over the side of the box stall, bushy brows knit together in concern.

Sam hummed, inspecting the edge of her hoof. “And she was shod with a broad shoe? Meant for steeplechase?”

“Yeah, I always give her some time to adjust ‘coz it’s heavy,” the boy stammered, wringing his hands.

Sam let her hoof down carefully, so as not to cause Little Tsarina any more pain than she was already in. From just outside the stall, he grabbed his roll of tools, tucking them under his arm before reentering. The mare eyed the bundle cautiously as he sifted through the variety of clippers, hammers, and pliers before he settled on a buffer and a long-handled crease nail puller. Drawing her hoof between his knees once again, Sam wasted no time in prying the stuck nail from within the poor horse’s foot. The buffer slid over the manicured hoof, coming to a halt right at the head of the nail, where he carefully dug it underneath and began to pry it upwards. Predictably, she wrenched her leg forward with a grumble, nearly unseating Sam if it weren’t for the strength of his thighs and the friction of his boots against the flooring. Dropping the buffer behind him (sloppy tool handling, he could hear his father’s disapproving tsk in the back of his mind), he reached for the puller just within reach. Just one good tug, one good pull and the nail would be free. Slowly, as slowly as he could, he clamped around the nail, slippery with the fresh blood bubbling through the hair-thin crack running across the bottom of her hoof. And pulled. And pulled.

“Sir?” The boy spoke up, concern raising his pitch as Little Tsarina began to complain.

The nail popped free, lubricated with the bubbling stream of blood and fluid dripping thickly from the wound. With one hand, he pulled cotton and gauze from his back pocket, packing and wrapping her foot before gently letting the poor girl rest.

Sam grabbed his tools and straightened his strained spine, letting out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re a talented rider, George. Very talented, and with a very good horse.”

George blinked, eyes blown wide. “Uh, thank you… sir?”

Sam met his eyes tiredly. “You wanna know how I know?”

George nodded, and gasped a bit when the bloody nail was thrown at his feet: too long for a thoroughbred, especially one with Little Tsarina’s build, and too lightweight to be used with a heavy shoe.

“Because someone has it out for you.”

George went pale as a sheet, scrambling to pick the nail up from the floor and look it over. “This isn’t the right size…”

“And she didn’t throw that shoe. Someone threw it for her.” Sam stroked Little Tsarina’s neck apologetically, grabbing his tool roll and latching the stall door behind him. “I’m sorry, George. She won’t be racing today. Call the veterinarian over, ask for her to be seen, and pray it’s not gone into the bone.”

George looked on the verge of tears. A yawning pit ached in Sam’s chest, because he knew the pain of seeing his horse suffer, but no amount of sympathy could fix the situation.

“But… I don’t understand?” George hurried after him, casting quick looks back over his shoulder at his horse. “I- I haven’t done anythin’ to anyone, and we’ve only just made it this far…”

Sam eyed the clock atop the grandstand, stomach leaping when he saw the time. He whipped around, grabbing George by the shoulders so that he quieted down, eye-to-eye with Sam’s cold stare. “Listen to me, lad. It doesn’t matter how good you are, or how new. There are people out there– listen,” he shook George lightly to interrupt the quiver of his lip. “There are people out there who see other people as a means to an end. And it’s nothing personal. Right? They’re just looking out for themselves.” In his periphery, he could make out Paul’s hulking silhouette, lurking by the fence near the track entrance. “It’s… it’s just business.”

With that, he turned and marched on towards the meeting point under the stands with long strides. His hands were shaking, clammy and smelling faintly of coppery horse blood. Rubbing them on his apron didn’t help, nor did undoing the belt and wrenching the leather covers from his legs and hands. They flopped uselessly to the ground alongside his Aintree-issued tools with a dull thud, the thud of metal and leather, the thud of something solid. The smell of copper grew stronger, his throat closing tighter, not now not now not now–

“Mate! What the fuck?” Paul’s smoke-roughened voice stopped Sam in his tracks before he could crash into the man headlong. “You dead-set on fuckin’ everyone over today? We’re nearly ten minutes behind.”

Sam nodded wordlessly, mouth opening as if to speak but with no words to follow. What… what was he meant to be doing? All he could smell was mud, blood, infection–

“C’mon, then! Let’s stop playing bloody doctor and get a move on.”

Shaky as he was, Sam’s long strides only just kept him a pace behind Paul as they pushed their way through the steadily growing swarm of racegoers milling around, placing their bets with the first wave of bookies: some legitimate, dressed in pricy suits and chomping on Spanish cigars as they blustered through their pitches, and some Scuttlers weaving their way through the crowds with stolen licenses and forged papers. These didn’t look like a challenge to Sam, mostly youths under the age of twenty who would sheepishly turn over their place at Aintree when faced with a credible threat to call their mothers. Tommy wouldn’t be worried about them, if he was any sort of racketeer worth his salt. The real challenge would be these gentleman bookies, the ones well-used to making great deals of money on the Grand National. They were the types to have police protection far stronger than your average razor gangster. If Sam were to hazard a guess, these were the men Tommy was really targeting.

Paul dragged him by the elbow to a shadowy space behind the grandstand, shoving him roughly against the brick with a hand gripping his shirt front. “Care to explain why the fuck,” he hissed through clenched teeth, so close to Sam’s face that the sharp consonants flecked his cheek with tobacco-scented spit, “you’re going around talking to the jockeys? Eh? You wanna get found out or something?”

Sam shook his head, breath short from the impact. “Just doing my job. The horse–”

“You have got to watch with who you speak to, Sam, anyone could be–”

“Paul,” a familiar deep voice rang out, “that’s enough.” Tommy patted the large man’s shoulder firmly as he approached from one of the festival tents, the warning clear. Paul stepped back, grumbling under his breath but keeping that menacing glare on Sam.

Tommy gave him a once over, dusting a stray speck of dirt from the collar of Sam’s shirt. With his hand this close, he could smell gunpowder and clean leather from Tommy’s glove. Had there been a fight already? Or was he just always acquainted with the trigger of a gun? He wasn’t sure which answer he preferred more, given Tommy’s proximity to his jumping pulse.

“You doing alright, Samuel? Things going well?” His voice was still just as low, but softer. Like the way Sam spoke to the racehorse he’d just treated.

He nodded, taking a shaky breath. His back hurt from the way Paul had slammed him against the masonry, but that was nothing compared to the tightness lingering from that moment of panic in the stables. Only the worst kind of person would treat an animal like that, and there was no doubt in his mind that someone who’d harm a gentle horse to skew the odds would stop at nothing when it came to other people.

“There’s proper bad men here, Tom,” Sam’s voice dropped to a hiss. 

Tommy huffed something close to a laugh. “We’re proper bad men, mate.”

Sam shook his head vehemently. “Worse than crooked cops and sham bookies. Screwing the race, laming horses… it smells rotten.”

A frown creased Tommy’s brow. “Laming horses?”

“Little Tsarina. The mare I told you about. Fuck, she was only just old enough to race. Just a little one.”

Tommy cursed, pacing a few steps away with his hands on his hips as he nodded to himself. He approached Paul, giving him an order too quiet for Sam to hear over the raucous laughter of a gaggle of young ladies having a few too many drinks nearby. Paul looked back and forth between Tommy and Sam, a hint of confusion crossing his face, but nodded and lumbered away towards the Blinders lurking near the track.

Tommy returned to him, expression tight with anger. “What else, Samuel? What did you see?”

Sam stammered through a retelling of his lap around the racecourse, from the cop he’d seen rubbing a bump of Tokyo over his gums in the men’s restroom to the well-paid bookies and their stores of cash. As he was describing the squirrely appearance of a nervous young woman arguing with her man over something about a purse, one of the Blinders– Ed, not Harry like he’d been told to expect –crossed into their line of sight and gave the signal: a pebble kicked at the wall by their feet. He was early. Too early for it to be a miscalculation. Tommy and Sam looked back to each other, the older man’s blue eyes filled with uncharacteristic worry.

“You ought to grab something to drink before they play the first call,” Tommy said, slowly and deliberately. The implication was clear: The bar fight has to get started. Now.

As Sam pushed through the flamboyantly dressed crowd to reach the entrance to the bar tent, he noted a trio of Blinders led by Arthur purposefully making their way towards an unassumingly-dressed older man standing by the other side of the grandstand. But if Arthur won’t be there to start the brawl, Sam thought, then who–

He barely had time to think through the options before the answer was presented to him. Of-fucking-course. Armed with a cheeky smirk, John stood casually leaning against the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Looking right at him.

Sam knew immediately where this was headed, but he had his orders. He had promised Tommy that this was something he could do.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sam grumbled, sidling up to the bar next to John and flagging the bartender down for a pint.

“Aw, likewise, mate,” John sneered, tossing down the last gulp of liquor.

“Thought we were told to stick to beers today?” “Yeah, well,” he sniffed, swiping his nose with his thumb. “Rules are different for the men who can handle themselves out here.”

Sam didn’t dignify that with a response, sliding his payment to the bartender and taking a swig of cheap, foamy beer. John noticed, which only made him grin wider.

“You smell godawful, mate,” he remarked, as casually as one might remark on the weather at an event like this. “Blood and horse shit. Had a nice morning?”

“Oh, yeah, real nice,” he muttered into his pint. Where the hell did this guy get off?

“Yeah,” he laughed, “figured as much. Though it’s not like that’s much of a change for you, is it, with all the arse-kissing you do for every fucker with a wallet you meet? You probably can’t even smell yourself.”

An angry flush came to the tips of Sam’s ears, despite trying as he did to restrain himself from giving in to any sort of reaction.

“It’s a wonder your wife can tolerate it. Or… wait, then again, she’s still not your wife, is she?”

Sam couldn’t help himself at that point. He swung around, nose-to-nose with John’s self-satisfied gloat, puffing himself up so that he towered over the smaller man. “The fuck are you trying to say, mate? If you’ve got a problem with me, then take it up with me. For the last fuckin’ time, leave my girl out of it.”

John snorted a laugh, his breath reeking of whiskey. “A problem with you? Fuck, mate, you have no idea what you’ve done, have you? Just for starters, you’re makin’ my wife miserable, not knowing what’s happening with her baby sister. Spirited away by the raving mad son of raving mad Henry Lovell with no warning. You have any idea what that’s done to her?” By then he and John were chest-to-chest, staring one another down like boxers in the ring as John hissed and spat. “And, come to find out from Danny, you’ve knocked the poor girl up? And you have the bloody nerve to ask me what my issue is? My issue is that you’ve no right to even speak to Florence-Maria when her Uncle Ephraim is lyin’ cold in a grave with no justice for what your nutter father’s done! You may have fooled Tommy with that pathetic hangdog face of yours, but I know what right bastards you and your kin are, Sam.”

Sam shoved him. John stumbled heavily into the stool behind him, practically knocking a large man off his seat.

When he regained his footing, John let out a raucous laugh. “Fuck! Well, Tom wanted a fight, didn’t he?” John shook his arms, bringing his hands up into a defensive position. “Might as well make it count. Hit me, Sam. Go on ahead. Fucking try me.”

A murmur had begun to rumble through the crowd, prim ladies drawing their handbags closer to themselves and gentlemen scoffing at the rowdy display. Sam knew he had to act fast, or their faces would be remembered.

“Well? What’re you waiting for? Or are you too much of a nancy to–”

He saw red. Sam’s fist landed square on John’s left cheek, sending him reeling back again into the big man, who by this point was more than bothered by the whole display. John took only a moment to recover, shaking the stars from his sight before rebutting with a swift strike of his own, catching Sam in the bridge of the nose. He felt something pop before a thick, sludgy bleed oozed over his upper lip. The chain reaction as Sam caught himself on the bar was immediate: his elbow knocked a gentleman’s glass of gin onto his tailored trousers, who’d assumed based on the large man’s quick cut into the middle of the disruption that it was his doing. Sam stumbled out of the way before he could get caught in the crossfire, allowing the two men to square off in their own miscommunicated fashion. As they did so, John lunged again, missing and bumping into a table with a young couple. That man stood, obviously having something to prove in front of his lady, and began to march towards John. The Shelby brother, thinking quickly, grabbed the remainder of Sam’s beer and splashed it carelessly on another nearby man, who accosted the blustering youth he’d assumed to be the culprit. Their resulting scuffle disturbed an entire table full of well-dressed and thoroughly drunk Americans, and before long the tent erupted in an all-out brawl. Exactly as planned. Fucking animals, the lot of them, Sam thought as he took in the chaos, all that posturing for nothing. Across the impromptu battleground, Sam locked eyes with a victoriously grinning John.

It didn’t take long for them to meet in the middle again, Sam refusing to let the other man have the last word. His next punch was aimed at John’s gut, doubling him over with a grunt before John caught him around the middle and slammed him against a tent pole. The force and the sudden searing pain in his chest crushed the breath out of him once more, but he managed a few solid hits around John’s head before the other man relented. He staggered back, John panting heavily and Sam struggling around rattling wheezes. John was bleeding from a spot on his brow where Sam had nailed a particularly nasty hit, and Sam’s nose was beginning to leak all the way down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. They looked a mess, all split knuckles and dirty clothes. He nearly spared the time to laugh incredulously about the situation, dreading the fussing-over he’d get at home and the inevitable lecture on maturity and self-control. Before he could dwell on it, John went after him with another wide swing. A swift dodge sent the man’s fist careening into the wood pole behind him, forcing a yelp out of him. Sam spun around, attempting to grab at John’s waistcoat and yank him off balance, but a pink silk purse laying abandoned in the alcohol-soaked earth below caught itself around his shoe and sent them both tumbling to the ground. John took advantage of the situation when Sam choked out a pained gasp, landing atop of him and delivering blow after blow, most missing and hitting the dirt, but several catching him on the cheek, the chin, the jaw. Sam flailed below him, catching him equally well in the mouth, the nose, the forehead.

A well-placed blow to the temple left Sam reeling, black spots dancing around his vision. The chaos around him muted for just a moment, fading into muffled complaints and a handful of shrieks that pierced through the fog clouding his senses. John must have realized at that point that he’d won, because the weight around his midsection disappeared and a vaguely John-shaped figure was offering him a hand up, urgently hurrying him on. The bar tent had descended into pandemonium, and they needed to run. In the not-too-far distance, he could hear police whistles and the shouts of men being apprehended. Sam, regaining his survival instinct, scrambled upright with John’s help (which irritated him to no end, despite the circumstances). John snatched his bladed hat from the ground behind him, throwing it back on his head as Sam untangled the muddy bag from his ankle. Shoving through the crowd, they staggered frantically towards the exit. By now, the Blinders would have given the signal across the racetrack to rush in and handle the scattered bookmakers and their personal security, thrown off-kilter by the chaos of the fight and left without the defense of the coppers. They were almost there. Just a few more meters and they’d be out of the tent, away from the fight and that much closer to safety. Just a few more steps, and he would–

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The unmistakable sound of gunshots nearly drove Sam back to the ground, if not for John’s strong grip on the back of his shirt and his own fist clutching the shoulder of John’s waistcoat. Wails of terror rang out around them, and Sam could swear that he tripped over someone’s leg as they lay motionless on the ground.

“Fucking run, you son of a bitch!” John shouted at him, practically dragging him along as they stumbled into the open festival field. To their left and right, coppers were pulling brawlers apart, shoving men to the dirt and subduing them with cuffs and batons. Through sheer luck and dogged pursuit of their getaway car, the two of them managed to avoid the clutches of the police, throwing themselves into the large loading space of the delivery car and hunkering down to avoid detection until the rest of the crew could return. The ache in Sam’s chest was staggering, outranked only by the sting-thud of the bullet he’d survived in Belgium.

Paul arrived soon after they did, sweating and red-faced as he hauled himself into the back of the van with a grunt and a handful of curses. Ed and Albert joined them soon enough with victorious whoops, and lazy-eyed Jim Casey lumbered in after them, wringing his bruised knuckles. Harry, the little one, hopped in with a bagful of cash, followed soon after by Arthur, who sat next to his younger brother and ruffled his hair, seeming not to notice the state that the two of them were in. Unsurprising, frankly, considering how blown his pupils still were and how rapidly his knee bounced. Mooney hopped into the drivers’ seat not long after, starting up the engine as Thomas Shelby finally found his place in the crowded back of the van.

So many bodies stinking of sweat and horse and cigarette and blood made him queasy, so Sam leaned his head against the cool wall of the automobile and lethargically watched Tommy gesture with his arms as he ran the numbers and got their story straight, a commanding presence even in his disheveled state. A few times, Tommy caught his eyes, and he could swear that there was a glimmer of pride in that gaze behind the steely King-of-Birmingham exterior. It sent a wave of relief washing through him, to know that he hadn’t fucked it up. That he’d done well. He blinked slowly a couple of times, the rocking and rumbling of the vehicle over countryside dirt roads luring him into meditative peace as it had when he was just a boy in his father’s caravan.

He hadn’t realized that he’d fallen asleep until there was a hand frantically batting his bruised cheek, forcing him upright. The car was stopped and empty, just him, Tommy, and Ed remaining.

“Well, good mornin’, princess,” Ed drawled, tipping his hat dramatically. “Thought you were a goner for a second there.”

Sam scoffed on principle, though he couldn’t deny that he certainly felt half-dead. The cotton filling his head made it difficult to blink his surroundings into focus, the light sharp and abrasive against his retinas. Ed playfully saluted Tommy and hopped out of the back of the car, leaving the two of them alone again.

“John did a number on you,” Tommy observed, sitting down against the back wall with him when he realized that Sam was in no rush to go anywhere.

“Sure did,” he grumbled, though his mouth felt like it was full of marbles. He flinched and tensed as the movement of his mouth and jaw sent a dull, throbbing pain up through his temples. “Hell of a right hook on your brother.”

“Hell of a right hook on you,” Tommy countered, grinning slightly. “John complained about his split lip the whole way out here.”

Sam hummed, a slight smirk twitching the corner of his mouth. Served the bastard right, after all. But Tommy’s reference to out here made him curious. “Where are we now?” Adjusting to the brightness of the late afternoon, he could make out a grove of trees and the sparkling surface of dark water.

Tommy followed his gaze to where the men were standing around in a loose circle, smoking and chatting. John sat on a rock by the river, pressing a whiskey-soaked rag to his forehead and as Arthur regaled him with a dramatic reenactment of his own brawl.

“We’re a few miles out of Tern Hill,” Tommy said. “The radiator’s leaking. I’ve sent Mooney and Albert out to find a phone, and hopefully Pol can send some men out here to get us.”

Fia will be worried. Shit, why are we in fucking Tern Hill? He was supposed to be in Haydock–

A broad palm pressed against his bruised sternum, pushing him back into a seated position. When did he try to get up?

“Easy, Samuel,” Tommy reassured, kneeling in front of him. “Easy. It’s okay, just slow down. We need to get you to a doctor, alright? Someone we trust not to rat you out. You aren’t looking well.”

Sam tried to take a deep breath, but his diaphragm hitched against Tommy’s hand when a sharp stab of pain ran through his torso, like his ribs were being squeezed in a vice. The attempt winded him. He gripped instinctually at the back of Tommy’s hand as he leaned his head back against the wall of the car, eyes clenched shut as his shallow, halting breaths evened out.

When he recovered, one eye cracked, Tommy’s typically stony, expressionless face was close to his own, brow tight with concern. “No offense, Tom,” Sam rasped, “but your brother might be the biggest arsehole I’ve ever met.”

Tommy sighed. “John should’ve controlled himself better. Grudges or not, he disobeyed orders and got someone hurt,” he said. “I sent Arthur to sniff out whoever had lamed that poor horse, instead. He was too fucked up to dial it down with you in the tent, and I’d hoped that John would be better. Besides, you seemed…upset. With that mare being your favorite, and all. Needed to right the wrongs. You deserved as much, for your hard work.” He looked sheepish, as though the slightest emotionally-based decision was shameful. A light flush spread over the bridge of Sam’s nose when he realized it was probably the most gallant thing anyone had ever done for him, and all because Sam had mentioned it in passing.

“I’m glad you did,” he said gently. “That was…” Kind? Righteous?

Fuck, please let it be just kind. Righteous. Respectable. Not something to think about later, with his eyes staring unblinkingly at the roof of the vardo and Fia’s long hair soft on his shoulder. A gentle, merciful, divine physical reminder of his shame, shame, shame.

Tommy gave him a weak smile, blinking a few times as his gaze drifted just slightly lower. Sam’s flush spread farther as he realized that he was still holding Tommy’s hand captive against his chest, pressed to his racing pulse. He released him as though the contact burned him, scooting with a wince so that he was better supported by the wall behind him.

The barriers went up very quickly in Tommy’s eyes. Sam had already learned this, and he found himself wishing he could force them down like the crumbling walls of Jericho. Every time he built them back up, that ache was worse. He didn’t want to dwell on why that could be.

“Well,” Tommy cleared his throat. “As soon as Pol can get people up this way, I’ll make sure they pass the message along to your… to Florence-Maria, and they’ll see that she makes it to Birmingham safely. But–” He raised his eyebrows raised and pointing a finger at him as though scolding Sam for chewing up his slippers or chasing the chickens, “–You’ll be seeing our doctor, eh?”

Sam nodded, rubbing a hand under his nose and frowning when it came away tacky with drying blood. He startled when Tommy reached out with his own handkerchief, wiping the blood from his chin.

“You didn’t walk,” Tommy muttered as he worked, gently rubbing at the oxidized blood streak smearing down his throat. Sam gulped against the pressure.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you’d walk if I switched things up on you,” he mused. “You didn’t.”

Sam had nothing to say to that. Perhaps it was just the fact that he was already in too deep, or that he’d already developed a habit of giving in to whatever Tommy thought was best. He had that effect on people, Sam noticed. If Tommy Shelby asked the Thames to flow the other direction, the river might just steer itself right around posthaste.

Instead of voicing this, Sam shrugged. “I have a little one on the way,” he said. “Can’t afford to give up with the kind of money you’re offering. Not now.”

Tommy, satisfied with the work he’d done to clean him up, stood up to his full height to withdraw a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He rubbed the filter over his lips, a quirk reminiscent of the older boys he’d watched sneaking a forbidden smoke outside the schoolyard during his short stays in the cities. Did Tommy always smoke like that? Certainly a man like him could afford higher quality cigarettes, ones that wouldn’t stick to the inside of his mouth.

“I’ve got a son myself,” he told Sam, slightly muffled by the cigarette as he lit it. “Just two months old, now.”

Sam blinked. “I didn’t take you for a family man. Other than the present company, of course,” he added, nodding in the direction of John and Arthur, who were locked in a heated argument over the veracity of Arthur’s wild story. Tommy laughed at that. It was barely an exhale, but it nearly crinkled the corners of his eyes, so Sam took it as a victory. Serious as the plague, that one.

“A bit of a surprise, that I’ll admit. You and I aren’t too different in that regard.” He took a long drag of the cigarette, tapping the ash off with his finger. “I’m not married either, you know. Not yet. You could say Grace ran off with me.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at that, but didn’t comment on it. He figured that any commentary on the irony of his younger brother’s vitriol wouldn’t be appreciated right now. In any case, his head and jaw were beginning to throb, and all he really wanted was to go back to sleep and wait for the ache to go away. His shoulders slumped as the will to keep his eyes open bled out of him.

“Oi, eyes open, my friend,” Tommy nudged his outstretched leg with the side of his foot, jolting Sam back to consciousness. “Need to be able to tell us if something’s going sideways.”

“Other than my whole fucking body hurting?”

“You know what I mean.” Tommy shook his head fondly and turned to leave the back of the delivery van. “Shout if you’re dying, will you?”

Sam chuckled at the price of another hot stab of pain. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear me.”

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Habits - Part 1

(A/N) oh hey, it’s the comeback (cumback?) fic i didn’t intend to be the comeback fic. i really did want to update stuff and post this other yelena fic i have that’s actually cute and has a real plot to it but instead i read Come Back To Me by reminiscingtonight and it was just so goshdarn good that it got me to write this garbage instead! her fic is extremely good and it has 3 parts to it!!! hotdamn!!! i read it at work and it made me happy. anyway, hi! i had to cut this into two parts! expect inconsistency! i’m back to a 6-7 day work schedule with the holidays but i do have something kinda planned for december! ok enough rambling! let’s do this!

Rating: E (literal p0rn without much plot) 18+ Only!

Warnings: fuckboy!yelena (lowkey tho lmfao); protectiveAF!natasha; hella smut; ye olde ‘best friend’s sibling’ trope; nat and yelena are only 2 years apart in this bc it makes me feel better abt age gaps and ill be honest math is not my strongsuit; yelena basically fucks ur brains out idk what else to say; oh, also, reader’s parents r shitty and manipulative; mentions of past abuse, but super brief; really the parents dont pay too much of a role in this half

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader; Natasha x Fem!Best Friend!Reader; Natasha x Wanda Maximoff (i love redheads)

Chapter Word Count: 7.2k

Total Word Count: 30.1k

Synopsis: It’s been a few years since you last saw your childhood best friend, Natasha, and her little sister, Yelena. Transferring colleges leads to you needing a roommate, and that roommate just so happens to be Natasha. Not much has changed between you, you’re still thick as thieves. Her sister, however, is a completely different story.

| Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

gif source

 Russian Translations: Malyshka - babygirl; Milaya - darling; Dorogoy - sweetheart |

You’ve known Natasha Romanoff for, practically, your entire lives. Your friendship was sealed the day she pushed Jason Grey off of the swingset for calling you ugly in the first grade. You were basically inseparable after that. 

Yelena is adopted when you and Natasha are nine, and she is seven. Melina and Alexei had adopted Natasha before leaving Russia, and were apparently keen on adopting the little toddler young Natasha couldn’t stand to leave behind. It took a few years for the paperwork to go through, and the payoff, it seemed, was worth it. The second they’re reunited, Yelena and Natasha are sisters without a doubt. It may not have been by blood, but that didn’t matter.

Of course, Yelena is also adopted into your friendship with the redhead soon after. Yelena was curious while she adjusted to her new life, always inquisitive and asking questions. Eventually, her curiosity turned into complete headstrong foolishness. Sneaking home lizards and the like. 

You didn’t mind, though. 

In all honesty, you preferred their house to your own.

Your dad was a very busy person, and your mom wasn’t the best company. She was a perfectionist, through and through, and often expected the same from you. The pressure was really put on you when you started middle school. You needed the best grades, the highest place in whatever after school activities you chose. It was grating, exhausting, and their fights that rode late into the night never helped things.

Still, Yelena and Natasha were your distraction from it all. The more pleasant side of life, the side you couldn’t stand leaving.

Until, of course, you had to.

You’re fifteen when it happens, the threat of it. The word felt so ugly and obscene at the time. Divorce. You spent hours in Natasha’s room crying, both sisters helplessly holding you until you ran out of tears. 

That Christmas, your mother actually left until February. That was when your father really began to spiral. He lost his job. He started drinking. He started yelling at you. Started hitting you. You could have told someone - you should have. You only told Natasha and Yelena, though, forcing them to swear to never tell a soul. It was stupid of you, really.

You’re weeks away from sixteen when the shoe finally drops.

He hits your mom. She grabs you, and you’re driving out of town before you can even process it. The image of Natasha and Yelena following your mother’s car has, naturally, haunted you every waking moment since it happened. Your mom was always very anti-social-anything. No cellphones, no email, nothing. Contact with your best friends was hopeless. Gut-wrenchingly hopeless.

You’re grown-up, now. At least, on paper. The rest of high school was spent all the way in New York City, and you didn’t make many friends. You dated a few people here and there, but mostly you focused on your schoolwork the way your mother demanded you to. It became a saving grace, the idea of getting somewhere far away from her.

You don’t get far for long, though. Your first two years are spent at a college you can go to from home. You hate every second of it, and it takes a long while to convince her to let you transfer to another school where you won’t have to be watched like a hawk.

That leads you, at last, to Temple University. Philadelphia. Sure, it’s just a few hours’ drive away but that distance is fucking gold to you. You had originally searched for a roommate through a variety of social medias, looking for friends of friends you could possibly bunk up with - and that, miraculously, lead you back to Natasha.

The reunion is the happiest you’ve felt in so long, you cry. You spend hours catching up among the unpacked boxes, when Yelena is brought up.

“She’s coming a week after me. I transferred from Ohio State, and she’ll be a freshman. God, she’s gonna be thrilled to see you. She spent, like, months crying over you when you left.” 

You snort. “What, and you didn’t?”

“How could I when she was inconsolable?” Natasha scoffs. “It did suck, though. We missed you. I missed you.” She squeezes your hand tightly. “And now we can finally get drunk together like we planned for your sweet sixteen.”

“I didn’t get a drop of alcohol until I got to college,” you gripe. “Mom became like, the grade demon of my worst nightmares.”

“Your dad still lives there. Why didn’t you visit?”

“Yeah, joint custody didn’t last long.” You cringe. “He, uh, got one supervised visit with me in New York and sort of strangled me.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“It’s chill, now,” you lean back against the sofa, the only piece of furniture in your living room that’s accessible. “I mean, it’s whatever. He’s a deadbeat, anyways.”

And for the next handful of days, you and Natasha become as close as you had been before you left. Some bonds just transcend years like that, and you’re glad it was this way for you and Natasha.

The week before school leads to Natasha wanting to throw a party to celebrate. You aren’t surprised she’s already made friends here - she’s always been the more social type - but she seems very giddy when she explains her reasoning.

“Does this have to do with that Sokovian chick?” You ask when Natasha finishes cleaning the place for the millionth time since she’d woken up this morning. (Which, by the way, was six o’clock, because Natasha is fucking insane.) “Wendy?”

She glares at you from over her shoulder. “Wanda,” she corrects. “And, no.” 

You laugh at the flush on her cheeks. “So if she shows up to the party I should tell her it’s invite-only?”

“No! Don’t be an asshole!” Natasha whines, throwing the paper towel she’d been using to wipe the bookshelf. It’s not even dirty, but you smack it away with a squeal. “And, by the way, there’s another surprise guest coming, but it’s a secret.”

“Ooh, my favorite actress wrapped in a nice little bow for me?” You ask with a dramatic fluttering of your eyelashes.

“Don’t be gross.” Natasha scolds. “You’re worse than Yelena.”

“Little innocent Yelena?” You cackle, knowing full-well the blonde had been nothing short of troublesome and clever when you left. 

“I have it on good authority that she was being a fuckboy when I moved away.” Natasha tuts. “She was just waiting ‘til I left before she started fooling around with people. Typical.”

“Could it be that anyone interested in her was terrified of her big sister roasting them alive?” You inquire teasingly, tapping your chin as if you were truly considering what other options there could be.

“Very funny.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t ‘roast them alive’. They’d scream too much, I’d get caught immediately.”

The seriousness in her tone makes you laugh. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be caught dead or alive looking at your sister like that.”

She sticks her tongue out in response, quite childishly. You really, really missed her.

- - - - -

Okay, fine, surprise surprise, the girl with the strict mother is a lightweight. So what. 

You aren’t hammered, you’re more aware of yourself than that. You’re two drinks in, though, so you’re chattier than usual and a bit too bold. Natasha says you’re a riot when you’re drunk, so that’s something, at least.

You’d just disengaged yourself from a conversation with a guy named Steve - who was strangely old-fashioned but incredibly sweet - to get a drink when you slam into a body. Off-balanced from the rush of blood to your head, you’re lucky that the person steadies you with strong arms before you can fall flat on your face.

You look up at your savior and immediately lose all ability to speak and think and breathe. She’s got blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes, the smirk on her face smug as she watches the way you take in her muscular body. She’s damn hot, a ripped band t-shirt underneath a red flannel, cuffed jeans and combat boots - this is a woman who also likes women, which happens to be one of your favorite type of women.

“Don’t tell me you’re already wasted,” the Russian accent surprises you less than the husky richness of her voice. Oh fuck. She’s really hot. You should say something cool, probably.

“No, she’s just a fucking lightweight,” Natasha’s voice is a saving grace. You look at her with a desperate, silent plea. “(Y/N), meet our secret special guest: Yelena.”

Holy shit.

“Y-Yelena?” You stammer, stiff as a statue as the blonde hasn’t moved her hands from your waist yet. 

“Long time no see,” she grins.

You step away from her, hoping to clear your head a little. “Y-you, uh, you grew up.” She’s taller than you by a few inches, now. 

She chuckles. “I have,” she confirms, the amusement in her tone telling you that she hasn’t forgotten the way you’d eyed her like a piece of meat moments before.

Natasha looks between you for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before she jumps and looks down at her phone. “Wanda’s almost here. I’m gonna go meet her outside. Keep this one out of trouble,” she points at Yelena, who pouts at the accusation of being troublesome.

You make a whipping sound when Natasha walks away, joining Yelena in gut-twisting laughter when Natasha flips you off.

And then you’re alone.

With Yelena.

Out of things to talk about.

“D-d’you wanna drink?” It comes out rushed and awkward, because now that Yelena is looking at you again you feel extremely nervous. 

“Sure,” the blonde is smirking again. You’re starting to dread that smirk.

You lead her to the kitchen, fighting hard to keep your mind from going anywhere but the blonde behind you. What the fuck was WRONG with you? This was Yelena. Little Yelena, who Natasha had just said she’d kill people for and you have absolutely zero doubts in your mind that Natasha Romanoff could get away with murder.

You and Natasha had been reunited for little more than a month and you were thinking of her sister in ways you absolutely, totally, should not. 

It’s not until you’re in the kitchen that you remember it’s a closed off room, unique to the apartment complex, effectively trapping you with Yelena, without any other partygoers.

Shit.

“S-so, what’s your poison?” You ask, turning to the several bottles of liquor you and Natasha acquired for the party.

“I think I’ve already found it,” she’s way closer than you’d expected. She leans against the counter barely a foot away; close enough to be in your space, but not so close that you’re brushing skin. It’s still too close, you think. 

“Nat made sure we had that- that, uh, jet fuel you Russians call vodka.” You reach for the bottle with slightly shaking hands, amazed at how much she’s affected you by just being near you. You feel like a stupid, horny teenager and she literally only touched you once to keep you from falling over.

“I’m not talking about vodka.” Yelena steps forward and you suck in a sharp breath. She’s way too close now. “You know, I always had a bit of a thing for you, growing up.” She says it so casually, you actually don’t process the words at first. “When you left, it was my first real heartbreak.”

“Yelena-” you start, but she keeps talking:

“And just when I thought you were gone forever, Natasha tells me you’re her new roommate.” She licks her lips, and your stupid eyes can’t help tracing the motion. Her smirk widens. “I knew I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“The chance to- to what, exactly?” You squeak, eyeing the door behind her. Is anyone going to come in here and save you? Do you want them to?

Yelena raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. She’s leaning closer. You find yourself quite frozen, unable perhaps unwilling to move from your spot. “I saw the way you looked at me. You want this just as much as I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lie. You’ve never been a good liar.

Yelena laughs. “Ha! You’re still a terrible liar.”

“And you’re a brat.” You mutter, and then she’s got you pinned to the counter, the edge digging uncomfortably into your back. Both of her palms rest on either side of you. You’re trapped. You’re definitely going to die here.

“Oh, am I?” She teases, amused as she leans in close enough for her breath to ghost your lips. “What does that make you, then?”

“Natasha’s best friend.” You put your hands on her shoulders, pushing lightly to keep the distance between you and hopefully encourage some more. “Who does not want to die a horrible, bloody death for having Natasha finding her pinned against a counter by her little sister.”

Yelena hums, a thoughtful sort of sound that’s very low in her throat. “Who cares about what Natasha thinks? I don’t.”

“You should.” You sound suddenly hoarse as Yelena’s eyes flicker down to your lips.

The front door opens. You push Yelena harder than you’d intended, but she doesn’t budge much. Holy fuck she’s strong. She moves aside though, chuckling lowly as you put a respectable distance between you.

Natasha bursts into the kitchen, Wanda Maximoff in tow while the pair giggle scandalously. Your best friend pauses, looking at you and then Yelena, apparently picking up on the tension that still remains.

“Oh, is this your girlfriend?” Yelena asks, successfully erasing whatever the fuck that was.

You’re in trouble.

You’re in deep, deep fucking trouble.

- - - - -

The next morning, you stumble into the kitchen sleepily. Wanda spent the night in Natasha’s room, but luckily you were out like a light the second you laid down. Yelena took up the couch with two of your four blankets - why Natasha couldn’t spare her own sister some blankets, you’re too frightened to ask - and the mass of blonde hair splayed over the armrest tells you she’s still sound asleep.

You breathe out a sigh of relief once you’ve made a cup of coffee, and it turns soft moan of appreciation when you take your first sip.

“Morning,” a voice startles you, making hot liquid spill over your fingers. You wince, setting the mug down as you turn to face the intruder. Your words get caught in your throat when your eyes find Yelena. Yelena who, apparently, slept in a sports bra and Natasha’s old sweatpants last night.

When your eyes move back to Yelena’s face, she’s wearing that stupid cocky smirk again.

“You know, for someone who denies eye-fucking me, you seem to do it an awful lot.” Yelena sneers. Your cheeks warm considerably. You take your mug and move to the kitchen table, too cowardly to duck out of the conversation and too afraid of her bringing it to the living room where Natasha most certainly could hear it.

“I’m not eye-fucking anybody,” you huff.

“That must be why you’re the color of a tomato.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh,” her smirk widens, “is that an offer?”

You scoff. “Holy shit, you really are impossible.”

“Maybe you should just admit the truth to yourself.” She begins making her own cup of coffee. You’re relieved to not have those piercing eyes on you anymore, but you don’t let down your guard. 

“And what truth is that?” You ask, hoping to sound casual.

“You’re just as into me as I’m into you.” She answers simply, throwing a look over her shoulder. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting. I’ve waited this long.”

You grit your teeth. “Jesus, Lena.”

“I’m just being honest.” She joins you at the table, looking calm as ever even though you’re practically having a meltdown internally. “I’ve wanted you since I could want anyone like that.”

“You really shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

“If you’re gonna use the best friend excuse again, it’s a shit one.” Yelena rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. You cross your arms defiantly, earning an amused grin from the blonde. “If anything, she should be happy. She already likes you.”

“That will change the second I touch you.”

“So you do want to touch me?”

You bite your tongue. How the fuck does she keep coming at you so fast like this? You haven’t even finished your first damn cup of coffee. It’s too early for this.

“Yelena-”

“Oh! Sorry!” A familiar voice pulls your attention to the doorway. Wanda is standing there in one of Natasha’s shirts and a pair of pajama pants. There are hickeys all over her neck, her hair clearly messed up from a long night. “I didn’t hear you guys. Kitchen’s practically sound-proof.” She chuckles awkwardly, eyeing the coffee pot. “Is- is that fresh?”

“Yep, help yourself.” You nod and she quickly makes two cups of coffee. You and Yelena share a meaningful look, united in your opportunity to tease Natasha later.

“So, Yelena,” Wanda begins, cutting the silence. “Natasha said you got a scholarship here for lacrosse. That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Yelena leans back in her seat, grinning. “Been at it since freshman year of high school. My grades were fine, but this was the only offer that was a full-ride.”

Wanda hums, eyeing the door with a soft expression. “That’s nice. I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

When she leaves, you’re once again emerged in that strangely charged atmosphere that seems to gravitate between you and Yelena.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not stick around to hear Natasha and Wanda go for round two.” She says, wrinkling her nose.

“Dunno, the kitchen is pretty soundproof apparently. This could be our only safe space for a few hours.” You say it flippantly, meaning it entirely as a joke, but suddenly Yelena looks like the cat who caught the canary.

“And what do you suggest we do to pass the time?” She asks.

“You’re right, a day out sounds great,” you stand so quickly the chair almost falls over. Yelena is cackling at you, but you ignore her. “Get dressed, jerk, we’re going into the city.”

- - - - -

“Ooh, this is cool,” Yelena eyes the vest with a hungry expression. 

You snort. “What, are you enlisting?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you not see all of those pockets? I could fit so many things in there, you wouldn’t even know.”

You’ve been out with Yelena for the better part of three hours, and in that time you’ve come to realize how much you’d missed her. Not that you weren’t aware of it before, but it feels like the world was somewhat dull without her presence. Her sarcasm, her cleverness, her mischievous grin. 

She’s too endearing for your own good. 

And beautiful, too. You think that’s the worst part. You often just find yourself looking at her, in awe of how she looks and speaks and acts. Still so confident in herself and everything she does, in the most mundane situations. Right now, as she pulls on the vest to look at herself in the mirror, she looks lovelier than ever. 

Oh no, you think distantly. This was not a good idea! 

“What do you think?” She asks, giving herself a long once over before turning to look at you. “I look good, right?”

You smile, unable to resist it. “You look very cool.”

“I knew it!” She hisses under her breath, turning back to the mirror. She really is cute. She catches your gaze through the reflection, winking when your eyes meet. You blush, deciding the floor is very interesting and a thousand times cooler than anything else in the store.

“Damn, it’s thirty-six dollars,” Yelena sighs. 

“I’ll buy it for you,” you offer without thinking about it.

Yelena throws her arms around your neck and for a horrifying moment you brace yourself for her lips to meet yours. Instead, she hugs you, and you have to force yourself to relax again.

“You’re so sweet, thank you,” she gushes.

You’re in deep shit, you just know it.

Natasha calls you around two to ask where you and Yelena were. By this point, you’d made your way to a little cafe, where you ended up talking about what happened in your years of separation. Yelena is relentlessly flirty, apparently keen on proving to you that you’re attracted to her and you certainly aren’t making a good case for yourself what with all the blushing and, admittedly, occasional flirtatious comment.

When you tell her where you are, Natasha says she and Wanda will join you.

“Aw, and I was enjoying our date,” Yelena pouts when you tell her the news.

“This was a date?” You ask with an amused snort.

“Of course it was. You bought me this nice vest and breakfast, and you also just bought me coffee.” Yelena rolls her eyes, as if it were obvious.

“Do me a favor and don’t ever call this a date in front of Natasha. I like my blood inside of my body.” You warn.

“So you agree, then?” Yelena brightens. “This is a date?”

“Yelena-”

“I’m just repeating what you said,” she bats her eyelashes innocently.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and pointedly not responding. She seems to take this as a victory, since she’s still in a happy mood by the time Natasha and Wanda join you.

“Cool vest,” Wanda compliments, sitting beside Yelena while Natasha takes the seat beside you. 

“Thanks,” Yelena grins, “(Y/N) bought it for me.”

“What, did she ‘forget’ to bring her wallet?” Natasha scoffs, earning a pout from her sister.

“It’s a few belated birthday presents,” you excuse, heart warming just a little more when Yelena’s eyes meet yours again. Her lips are ever so slightly curved upwards, an almost unnoticeable smile.

You spend another hour or two at the cafe before Yelena complains about having to stay at a dorm her first year. 

“Moving in with you guys would be so much easier,” she sighs. 

“We only have two bedrooms.” Natasha snorts. “I’m not sharing my bed with you, you’re a violent sleeper.”

“Am not!” Yelena gasps, clutching her chest. “That is a baseless accusation.”

“You literally punched me in the face once.” Natasha scowls.

You burst out with laughter. You were actually there for that one. You were all still pretty young, so you managed to squeeze into a small tent in Natasha’s backyard. Yelena practically begged to be between you, but Natasha was right: she’s a violent sleeper. She kicked a lot, but she was always facing away from you, so it was always Natasha who got kicked. When Natasha tried to turn Yelena over to face you because you were laughing at Natasha, the blonde woke up and suckerpunched Natasha with such impressive accuracy you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Keep laughing, (Y/N),” Natasha warns, “and I’ll start thinking you two are up to something.”

You have to fight the very sudden rise of panic in your chest. What the hell are you worried for? You aren’t up to anything! This wasn’t even a date!

“You’ve caught us,” Yelena recovers, casting you a sly smirk. “We’re conspiring against you.”

“I fucking knew it.” Natasha throws a balled up napkin at her sister.

- - - - -

It’s the last Saturday before school starts. Since the party on Wednesday, Natasha and Wanda have been entirely consumed with one another and Yelena has decided that tormenting you is her favorite pastime. When she drops by unannounced, she makes it a point to tease you and flirt with you when Natasha isn’t watching or listening.

Even worse, when you go to sleep, you keep dreaming about her. Yelena has become a permanent fixture in the back of your mind, always a second-thought. You hate yourself for it. You should be thinking of Natasha first, and how goddamn betrayed she’d feel if you went off and slept with her baby sister.

You’ve decided tonight is going to be a good night to get absolutely wasted. 

It’s not going well.

You’re on drink two and you’ve moved to the dancefloor at the behest of Natasha. She’s introducing you to someone whose name you don’t quite catch. She’s hot, sure, but you’re too confused and stressed to really listen. 

The more Yelena hung out with you, the more you were starting to question what it was, exactly, you were feeling about her. She’s Natasha’s sister, yes, and you’ve known her for years. Practically grew up with her. Her friendship was always a valued one, even if she was younger, but suddenly all of that is fogged up by this… great, big something she’s implanted in your brain. 

You want to scream. Or cry. Or forget yourself.

Yes, that last option is too appealing right now.

It’s easy for a while. You let the woman - Carol - dance with you provocatively, her hands gripping your waist in a way that, typically, you’d definitely enjoy. Even when you can feel her hard muscles moving against you, you can’t quite stay in the moment long enough. You keep picturing Yelena behind you, arms around you, hands moving from your waist to your sides. It feels good - you’re definitely turned on - but it’s not what you want and that’s all the more frustrating.

Carol, swaying her hips flush against yours, leans down until her lips brush against your ear. “Wanna come back to mine?”

You should. You should definitely go back to Carol’s.

But you can’t.

“I’m actually feeling a little, uh, lightheaded,” you separate from her, trying not to wince at the kicked puppydog expression on her face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she recovers quickly, smiling. “Need a ride to your place?”

You shake your head, swallowing your agitation. “I’m fine. I could use the fresh air. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least get your number?”

Because you feel guilty, and because you can feel Natasha eyeing you questioningly from a few feet away, you give Carol your number before slipping through the dancing bodies. Natasha catches you by the wrist before you go, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Just nervous about school,” you lie smoothly. “I’ll see you at home?”

“I’m going to Wanda’s after, actually,” Natasha smiles fondly at the woman still rolling her hips in time with the music. “But I’ll see you at some point tomorrow?”

You nod, giving a polite wave to Wanda before finally escaping the club.

The night is blissfully cool on your overheated skin. You can’t believe how worked up you’d actually been. Maybe you should go back and take Carol up on her offer-

No, that wouldn’t be right. Carol is definitely into you, and she seems really sweet. You shouldn’t just fuck her because you can’t stop thinking about wanting to fuck your best friend’s sister.

Oof.

You don’t think you’ve actually finished that thought before.

God, I’m a horrible friend. You think bitterly, beginning the short walk back to your apartment.

Your mind isn’t any clearer by the time you get home, but you become very sober when you realize the lights are all on and the TV is making noise from the living room. Grabbing the baseball bat you keep by the door, you creep towards the living room on high alert.

“Do you really think a serial killer wouldn’t remove the only weapon you have by the front door while breaking in?” A familiar voice makes you go rigid. Of course. Of course that’s exactly how your night would go. Perfect. Fucking perf- “Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot or are you going to put the stupid bat down?”

You blush, setting the bat aside while muttering several expletives under your breath. Sure enough, Yelena has made herself perfectly at home on the couch. 

“It’s a Saturday night, don’t you have a life? How did you even get in?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway that leads from the front hall to the living room, the edge of the kitchen door tempting you to just hide until Yelena leaves.

“Well, I heard Natasha and Wanda were going out, so I figured you’d be home alone.” She shrugs. “And Nat gave me a key.” She dangles the object with a grin.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t go out to a club with them?” You shake your head with a scoff. “I’m not a total shut-in.”

“You totally are, but whatever.” She snorts, scooting over and patting the spot next to her. You eye her with blatant suspicion and she laughs. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, reluctantly sitting beside her with a decent amount of cushion space between you. She’s watching some classic movie no doubt from Natasha’s collection that she keeps hidden in her room.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, withering further into the guilty haze you’d left the club in.

Hey, it’s Carol :) If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to ask ;)

“Who’s that?” Yelena asks, peering at your phone.

You shove it back into your pocket with a scowl. “Nobody important.”

“Bullshit. You know you’re not a good liar.”

You glare at her, but it does nothing. She holds your gaze evenly, almost patiently. It makes you even angrier at her, at yourself, at the way your stupid body won’t fucking listen to reason. “Just a girl I met at the club tonight. She’s a little… eager to see me again.”

There’s a brief look of hurt on Yelena’s face, but it’s so brief you almost don't notice it. “Oh? What’s her name?”

“Carol.”

“Danvers?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

She scoffs. “You can do better.”

“Yelena,” you begin warningly, disliking the abrupt change in atmosphere. 

“What? I’m being honest.”

“She seems… nice.”

“Just ‘nice’?”

“We didn’t exactly talk much.”

“Oh, so you were-”

“I wasn’t doing anything because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, actually.” You snap, unable to control yourself. You want to sound angry, but really you just sound tired. “Fucking Christ, Yelena. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Her expression brightens considerably at this. She moves closer, and you’re once again snared by those damn green eyes and that dumb cocky smirk that you’ve come to associate with Yelena. “Really?”

“We really, really shouldn’t do this.” You state, hoping you sound stronger than you actually feel.

“And why’s that?” She tilts her head, amused. “Because of my sister? She should give you her blessing. Who else would be better for me than someone she already approves of?”

You don’t like how reasonable she sounds when she’s breathing the same air as you, her eyes searching yours. 

“She’s going to kill me if-”

“If.”

There’s something magical about the word ‘if’. Maybe dancing with Carol had you more worked up than you’d thought. You wish you could blame it on the alcohol but with Yelena so close you’re achingly sober. Maybe there are no excuses for what happens next. 

Yelena’s lips find yours with absolute raw lust. Part of you hoped that just doing this, just kissing her, will satiate the longing for her that plagues your mind. (The rest of you knows better than to be stupid enough to believe that.)

Like with everything she does, Yelena kisses like she has something to prove. Maybe she does. You don’t care because it’s making your mind go completely blank and your body is buzzing with a million galaxies being born under her attention. You drink her in like a woman starved, drowning in her scent and her taste and the feeling of her hands curling into your hair and pulling you closer, closer, closer.

She’s on top of you, you aren’t sure how it happened. Her lips and her teeth and tongue are on your neck, finding places that pull quiet sounds from the back of your throat. You can feel her smirking against your skin, god- 

You are a horrible, horrible best friend.

(Why is it getting harder to care?)

You shove aside the guilt. You want this. You need this. 

“I’ve thought about how you’d feel like this for so long,” Yelena breathes against you. You’re positive she’s just left a wicked hickey. It makes you bite back a moan. “How you’d sound,” she continues, fingers dancing along the edges of your shirt, earning a quiet whimper. You let her pull it off of you, and she’s already unbuttoning your jeans. “How you’d taste,” she purrs, kissing down to your collarbone. She moves between your breasts, placing deliberate, wet, hot kisses wherever she pleases, more often than not leaving a dark red mark behind. When she eases your jeans off of your legs, she kisses your thighs and you’re so fucking desperate your hips twitch involuntarily.

Yelena laughs throatily, tossing aside the clothes with such smug pleasure it makes your teeth itch. “So sensitive,” she notes, almost carelessly tracing the edge of your bra. “Or are you just that desperate for me to fuck you?”

“God, Yelena,” you rasp. This is very much not the rambunctious freshman that ran after your mom’s shitty old sedan. Time has turned Yelena into the perfect weapon against you. Go figure. 

Where the fuck did your bra go?

Your fingers curl tightly in her hair when lips wrap around one of your nipples. Finding it harder to keep your noises at bay, a small whimper escapes you when teeth graze against the sensitive skin. Yelena hums against you, eyes flickering up to meet yours. She switches to your other breast, one of her hands slipping between your legs to rub against you through your panties. 

Her smirk is wider than ever when she pulls away from your breast. “Fucking soaked, just as I thought.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

In an instant, she has your hands pinned above your head. You stare up at her, dumbfounded. “How the hell did you get so strong?” You ask, unable to resist doing so.

She bites her lip, fighting a smile. “You should mind your manners. For being so rude, I’m going to make you beg for it.”

You gape at her. “What? You’re the one who said you wanted to- that you’ve been wanting to-”

“Yes,” she hums, leaning down so that she can place more marks on your neck. How the hell you’ll hide those monsters in the morning, you’ve got no idea. “But I like taking my time. You, however,” she snaps the waistband of your panties against your skin, earning a hiss of pain and pleasure. “You don’t seem like you’ll last very long.”

Yelena brings a lot out in you, apparently. You’ve never really considered yourself ‘bratty’ or anything before. But the idea of doing exactly what Yelena doesn’t want you to do is so goddamn tempting. Maybe because you know she’s going to make it very much worth it in the end. Yelena has always been one to keep promises.

“No.” 

Your answer takes her by surprise, certainly, but she recovers quickly. She looks delighted, even, when she leans back just enough to look you in the eye.

“No?” She repeats slowly. “You sure about that, malyshka?”

You nod, mouth incredibly dry.

Yelena growls under her breath, returning to her assault on your neck while her free hand starts to massage your already sensitive breasts. You suck in a sharp breath, decidedly holding back any noises you want to make. Yelena catches on fast to your ploy by the time she pushes a knee between your thighs to put just enough pressure against your core to make your body feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh, don’t hold back, milaya. I want to hear those pretty little noises you make,” Yelena croons, rolling her hips so that a delicious friction temporarily relieves the growing agony between your legs. You hiss out a curse, hands straining uselessly against the one Yelena uses to keep you firmly in place. “Aw, you want more?”

“I want you in less clothes,” you huff impatiently. 

“You haven’t earned that yet.” Yelena tuts, her free hand now dipping beneath your panties. She finds the pool of wetness waiting for her there and hums lowly. A keening sound that doesn’t resemble any sort of sound you’ve ever made before escapes you, unbidden. “All you have to do is ask nicely, malyshka,” she drawls, “and I’ll make you feel so good.”

With another roll of her hips, Yelena has your resolve reduced to ashes.

“Please,” you whine. “Please, Yelena.”

“Please what?” 

You try not to roll your eyes. “Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me, I want you to make me-” you’re cut off by a long, deep moan that escapes you very unexpectedly when Yelena’s fingers plunge into you without warning. A new look of victory crosses Yelena’s face, lips quirking up into a grin as she watches you with rapt attention, taking note of what makes you break your internal vow of silence.

When she adds a thumb to your clit, you’re incoherently begging for more.

“More?” Yelena taunts. “Greedy thing, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, more,” you rasp. Pathetic. 

“Mm, I love hearing you ask so nicely,” Yelena praises. You’re trembling beneath her touch, now. “Beg me again. One more time malyshka.”

“Please, Yelena,” you meet her eyes desperately. “Please, I need more.”

“Okay, alright,” Yelena hums her low laugh into your skin, lowering herself until she’s between your legs. “You can have more, dorogoy. You can have everything you want if you keep being good for me.” You’ll do anything she fucking asks if she keeps-

With your hands freed, nothing stops you from grasping at Yelena’s t-shirt while a long, wonton moan rips itself from your throat. Yelena is eating you out like she was born to do it. It’s amazing how quickly she’s learned to make you fall apart - or maybe you’ve really just been anticipating this enough to make it feel that way - but it isn’t long before you’re reduced to mindless, senseless noises that could be full sentences but you aren’t sure.

Yelena hums when one of your hands grips her hair, hips trying hard to move against her. She uses the hand not currently pounding into you to hold your hips down, not allowing them to budge even an inch as she drives you closer and closer to the edge. When her fingers curl and press against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, your orgasm hits you without warning.

The blonde is relentless. She doesn’t slow down, just focuses harder on fucking you deep, deep, deep until another climax ripples through you. She waits until you’re a sweating, trembling mess before finally slowing down enough for you to catch your breath.

Yelena places several kisses along your body while she returns to your lips, and this kiss is different from the others. Softer, less rushed. You dare even say it’s passionate. You return the kiss lazily, body limp between aftershocks of pleasure while Yelena slowly withdraws her fingers.

She only pulls back from the kiss to pop her fingers in her mouth, sucking on them obscenely before kissing you again and letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Fuck. Your hands move to her waist, pulling her flush against you. 

This time when she pulls away, Yelena is smiling. Not the smug, cocky smile that you’d been expecting. It’s a real one, a bright one that reminds you sharply of the little girl you grew up with. If you had any doubts before that she’s wanted this for a long time, they’re gone in an instant when you see the joy in her eyes.

Instead of letting the guilt take hold, you press a soft kiss to her lips and smile lazily at her. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her eyes search your face, like she can’t really believe that you’re requesting this, but she nods and starts working on her vest - the vest you’d bought for her, you realize with a shocking amount of satisfaction - and shirt. 

With every inch of skin newly exposed, you run your fingers along it or skim kisses in spots that make Yelena inhale sharply. She’s not as vocal as you are, but her hums of encouragement are damn hot so you’re not complaining. She seems very content to be on top of you, apparently, and that’s just fine. Once her pants and panties are off, you reach down between her legs while placing kisses along her neck and shoulder.

You both let out quiet moans when you find the wetness waiting for you there. You wish you could feel more smug about it, but honestly you’re just eager to make her feel something for the way she’s worked you up this week.

You make small, teasing circles against her clit, feeling her hips move in time with the motions. Your kisses move to her jaw, and when her mouth meets yours you slip your fingers inside of Yelena and swallow the resulting groan.

She rides your fingers with reckless abandon. She keeps placing purposeful kisses to your neck, your shoulder, your jaw, collarbone - Yelena is intent on making sure you don’t forget the occasion. When you add a third finger and curl your hand so that she can rub her clit against the heel of your palm, Yelena bites down hard. Without even being touched, you suddenly find yourself dangerously close to having another orgasm; a broken, strangled whine slipping free.

Yelena moans, her breath hot on your ear. She moves until her thigh is pressing against you again, her hips rolling freely against the fingers inside of her. It causes just enough friction to make you clumsy in your thrusts, brain and body fighting for control.

“Come with me,” Yelena murmurs, and just like that, you’re both teetering over the edge together. Your body has officially turned into a twitching, useless mass of limbs. Your breath lingers with Yelena’s as she quakes with aftershocks of her own climax, and when you’re able to breathe again she connects your lips.

It’s lazy, it’s messy. Your hands rest on Yelena’s waist now, the blonde’s body resting on top of yours while her arms rest on either side of you. You’re incredibly tired - and a little bit thirsty, but you’re way too comfortable to move right now. Yelena is warm, and it feels nice having her this close. 

When she ends the kiss, she places another quick peck to your lips before resting her forehead against yours. You already feel guilty, but there’s just too much coziness in the afterglow of this moment. Yelena’s eyes are searching yours for something, her smile tender.

“I really have wanted this. For a while.” She says quietly.

“I know.” You move one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

“I missed you.” She leans into your touch, never breaking your gaze.

“I know,” you repeat, kissing her gently. “I missed you, too.”

Guilt be damned, Yelena’s smile is worth it.

~ part 2 ~

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[holysmokesblog]

𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

Silco x reader

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: Insinuations of abuse; toxic family relationships

Summary: You help Jinx with some purchases, but the memories of the past attack you. Silco is the one who should console you.

Note: @eexphoria​ as always responsible for correcting my grammar mistakes, Thank you!

Note II: This is an anonymous request that I had pending for a long time, it was one of the first that came to me, so it makes me very happy to finally complete it

Today was a special day, without realizing it you had advanced your tasks in the week and left the morning completely free. It was the first time you could stay in bed until any time you wished, without worrying about having to watch a shipment of shimmer, deal with some idiot or look for clothes in the fucking dyer. A whole morning to enjoy your comfortable bed.

Silco said goodbye with a kiss like every morning. In his business, there was not even the possibility of a free morning to snuggle with you, but that only left you the entire mattress to make comfortable.

The only thing that could be heard in the room was the constant “ticking” of the elegant clock in one of the corners accompanying your breathing.

It was strange to be so quiet at home, but you were comfortable, at least until the door slammed open against the wall behind. You didn't even bother to open your eyes, only two people could enter the room, your husband, who would never knock on the door like that, and your little girl.

"It's me," Jinx hummed as she entered the room. You crawled to your place on the mattress to give her a place to lie down. The bed shook slightly as she settled in until it finally stopped.

"Good morning darling," you greeted her heavily, perhaps you should've taught her to knock on the door before entering your room, in any case, it was too late for that.

"It's late and you still haven't gotten up." She complained. "I'm hungry and I'm boreeeeed!"

The pre-adolescent was quite a case, since you had adopted her you had to learn to deal with her and her genius, in addition to her fragile mentality, which seemed to want to collapse with every little mismatch. Among those things, you had learned the hard way how dangerous her boredom is, especially when the voices take too much force.

"I have no plans today," you commented, drawing her attention. "We can have breakfast and get those pieces that I mentioned last night." 

Her eyes shined, you saw her move quickly like a shadow towards her own room to prepare to leave.

It wasn't your plan to have to detach yourself from your sheets, but it had been a long time since you spent time alone with your daughter, so with all the effort of your body you got up anyway.

You finished putting on your boots when Jinx entered the room again, anxiously waiting. You watched her carefully, and it made you question when she had grown so much, she had come into your life already as a big girl but now she was one step away from adolescence and time seemed to have passed at breakneck speed.

"Is there something wrong?" 

It brought you out of your trance. "No, no," you rushed to reply. "But wouldn't you like me to pick your hair up?" You offered her. With the passage of time not only had she grown in height, but her blue hair also reached almost to her knees and she only wore barrettes so that it would not bother her face.

"My hair? Why?" She looked confused, you had never dared to get into this field, the last time you offered to cut her hair she had one of her seizures because her sister Vi had been the last to cut it, so she was quite suspicious that someone else would cut her hair. 

"Yes, only if you want ... We don't have to cut it, just comb it so it doesn't get in your way." You watched her hesitate and glance behind her repeatedly. The voices. You had to stop her. "You know… When I was your age I used to comb my mother's hair" You began, distracting her. "My mother had long hair like yours, but completely (h/c)."

You approached cautiously, taking one of her hands to lead her to the bed to sit down. "She was very sick, but she took great care of her hair, she loved that part of her. It was soft and always clean." You took one of your brushes to pass it between her soft strands undoing the knots. "But when the disease consumed her completely I started taking care of her and her beautiful hair." You divided the hair in half starting to braid one of the sides.

You continued. "We both enjoyed it a lot, I would spend all my time with her and she would feel pretty."

A small knot formed in your chest, it was like a trigger to start rummaging through your memories, between the good and bad things of your childhood.

"Were you doing the same style to her that you are doing to me?" You heard her ask.

“No, she was older and had different kinds of hairstyles. This is for you only.” You finished the second braid in her hair. Jinx turned to face you, she still had that long and slightly messy part, but at least her face was a little clearer. "Go look at yourself and tell me if you like it," you said, still somewhat disturbed by that look at the past.

The preteen went to your dresser where she looked carefully in the mirror, for a moment you were afraid she wouldn't like it, but she ran quickly wrapping her slim arms around your waist.

"Thank you very much mom," she told you with her face buried in your clothes, you wrapped your arms around her in an instant. She was everything, together with Silco they gave meaning to your life. When their strength began to loosen your waist, they started their way through the streets of Zaun.

Finding the parts that Jinx needed was not difficult, but they had to go through various mechanical shops to find all of them. They finally returned on the way home with a box full of spare parts, which luckily you weren't the one who had to carry it.

“Sevika is a snooty bitch, she makes a big deal out of her stupid metal arm. Not that it was a big deal, I'm sure that with a couple of screws less it would be completely useless.” Jinx's voice filled the silence of the walk, you didn't have to answer her, just let her verb to her pleasure. "Did I tell you about the time I glued fifteen magnets to her arm?" But her voice echoed when you recognized a familiar face in the crowd.

Everything around you became blurry, the people, the shops, Jinx. It was as if that man had a searchlight pointed directly at his hideous but still familiar face. Sitting at a seedy bar table, drinking beer, like everything is fine, like he hasn't ruined your life.

A cold sensation settled in the back of your head and slowly worked its way down your back, like a liquid. You had thought about this moment for years, crossing it in the street and being able to confront it, but now you were frozen and you could feel your jaw tremble without knowing how to react. It is as if you were a little girl again, that girl who'd run to hide in the cupboard when she heard the front door.

It was when his eyes focused on you that the panic was completely unleashed, you were not sure that he would recognize you or even know that he was from your life, as you were the wife of the eye of Zaun.

"Mommy? Mom, are you okay?" Jinx brought you back to reality, you hadn't noticed that the tears had escaped your eyes. "Do you know him?" You finally realized that you hadn't taken your eyes off your father.

You let out a shaky sigh before taking her hand and heading home again, luckily for you, Jinx didn't ask any more questions. You released her as soon as you went through the door, you set her free, and locked yourself in your room.

Too many emotions in one day, too many memories, too much of the past. It didn't take long to hide under the covers. He couldn't find you, to hurt you again, but the terror was still installed there as if not a single day had passed.

You had no idea how much time had passed, but a knock on the door dragged you back to reality, you uncovered your head from between the sheets to indicate that it could happen. You were surprised to see a little blue head poke out fearfully.

"Can I?"

You nodded slightly and that's when the rest of her body entered. She slowly approached the bed where she knelt down to be in front of you. "Are you better?" You hummed in response. “Was it me? Did I do something to bother you? I'm really sorry, don't hate me-"

You stretched your arms to pull her towards you, the last thing you needed was to make her feel bad too. You made her lie down next to you, where she hid her face in your neck.

"You didn't do anything wrong, little one."

You stroked her braids "I just feel a little sick."

"It's not my fault?" You shook your head before kissing her forehead.

"No Jinx, but I need a moment alone. Could you do that for me?"

The preteen jumped up, placed a kiss on your cheek, and quickly complied with your order by closing the door behind her. You sank back onto the pillows, covering yourself up to your head, trying to sleep by closing your eyes tightly. In your dreams, no one could harm you.

…

The footsteps out of the room were what finally woke you up, you were still under the covers and you weren't planning to get out of there for a while. The door opened slowly and there could only be two people. The weight on the mattress told you that someone was sitting there and because of their care when doing things you scratched out of it being your daughter.

"How do you feel?" His deep voice filled the void in the room. "Jinx is worried about you… I'm worried about you." One of his hands rested where your back was supposed to be.

You threw the covers off your head to get closer to him, you settled your head on his lap where he began to gently scratch your head. He didn't ask you questions, he only allowed you to remain there in silence, as long as he was around, you were safe. The imposing clock struck twelve when you rose from his legs and watched him.

"Are you ready to talk?" Silco ran his hand over your cheek causing you to seek his touch.

"Nothing special, I just felt a little tired" You avoided him by kissing his hand up to his arm to his neck, but his other hand rested on your neck pulling you away from him.

"I know you well enough to know when you lie." His thumb circled her neck, right where your pulse was pounding. "What happened out there?"

You felt the tears form in your eyes again before all the air was released from your lungs.

"I saw him out there… I… I had never seen him before… I thought he was dead or too far from here."

His face hardened noticeably, he knew all your past and instantly recognized who you were talking about. "I'll ask Sevika to take care of him." He was about to get out of bed, but you stopped him by holding his arm, begging him with your eyes to stay by your side. After a few seconds, Silco relented and returned to his place on the bed, you laid your head back on his legs

"I don't want you to do anything to him," you begged him. "I just want to forget it… And you to be by my side… Please."

You felt him sigh like he was trying to handle his anger about to explode. You stared at him pleadingly. With some force you pulled his arm back into place, causing him to lie down on his spot. It didn't take long for you to rest your head on his chest listening to the constant beat of his heart.

His arm went under you to hug you around the waist making sure you stayed close. You took a deep breath trying to get drunk on his perfume.

"I like your smell, it makes me feel at home." You clung to his shirt in fear that if you let it go he would disappear and you would be in danger again.

"You are my weakness dear." His nose sank into your hair. "That's why I need you safe and happy… I'm going to take care of that man." He promised you. "We can't avoid the past, but I can make sure you don't see his damn face again."

You closed your eyes allowing your body to relax. 

"I love you," you said just before falling asleep, you didn't need his answer, Silco demonstrated it with his actions. He kissed your crown before allowing himself to rest a bit too, you were fine and tomorrow morning he would take care of that problem.

[mandoalorian]

Sinner [Dark!Din Djarin x F!Reader] *SMUT*

Summary: The Mandalorian has been attending confession for weeks now, with the sole intensive purpose to see you. 

Rating: 18+ smut

Warnings: Dark!Din, implied age difference, religion kink (don’t come for me...), sex in a place of worship, smut: loss of virginity, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation, unprotected p in v, cunningless, death mention, alcohol mention, brothel mention. 

Word Count: 4000+

Masterlist

REBLOGS APPRECIATED!<3

He’d been coming to confess for about a year now. He’d gone off the rails when he lost the kid. You’d heard rumours about the Mandalorian — strong, fierce, brave... a warrior. You certainly wouldn’t have pinned him for a man of faith. You’d seen him a few times when you were shadowing your father in church. He was tall, broad shouldered, and only came during the dead of night, when the abbey was completely isolated.

“Hello,” you greeted him, your soft voice echoing throughout the chambers. Your crimson red heels clicked against the marble floor beneath you as you approached the masked figure. Curtseying politely and removing your hood, you couldn’t help but bat your eyelashes in the direction the Mandalorian. “It’s quite late. I was just closing for the night.” you admitted, biting down on your lower lip in hope that he’d understand.

“I thought places of worship aren’t supposed to close?” He countered quizzically, an air of amusement in his voice. 

“You’re right, technically,” you hummed, picking at your nails as a wash of nerves flooded over you. “But my father is out of town and... I need to sleep.”

That’s where he recognised you from— you were the daughter of the Grand Bishop. He’d seen you before, doting around the abbey in your signature black gown and red robes. You were hard to miss, your beauty being beyond standards of measure. Yes, he knew you. He had noticed you watching him from the pillars above, when you thought nobody was looking. He noticed the way you’d deliberately brush past his body... desperate for just the slightest touch. He recognised your scent too; it was sweet like honey. And your ruby coloured lips. He’d dreamt of them plenty of times. It was really you.

“Where is he?” The Mandalorian asked after a beat of prolonged silence.

“He was requested by Senator Berenko to present evening mass on Naboo, for the Festival of Lights.” you explained, probably offering a little too much information.

“When will he be back?”

“Next week.”

“Well, I’ll be back then.” 

No, you couldn’t just let him leave. You couldn’t just let him walk away from you. This was your chance. In a fluster, you extended your arm and pawed at his bicep. He froze under your touch, and you hoped that you hadn’t overstepped. 

“Are— you’re here to confess. Aren’t you?” you asked him with a nervous gulp. Maker, why were you so nervous? The Mandalorian didn’t say anything, so you heeded to continue. “I’ve seen you come by before. I know you speak to my father usually but— I can do it. The confession, I mean. I’ve been shadowing my father for the past few months— training with him. I can do it. If... if you’d like me to.”

The Mandalorian took a moment to process your words. Maker; you were a sight to behold. Your eyes were starry and reflective of the galaxy he’d spent so long venturing. Your skin was soft and delicate. You were pure— untouched— holy. He was afraid the discussion of his sins might be a bit too much for you to handle. 

Or maybe there was something more.

Maybe he was afraid that once he’d start opening up to you, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He wouldn’t be able to resist you.

“Aren’t you a little young?” The Mandalorian scoffed incredulously, bringing his leather gloved hand to his helmet, his thumb grazing the cloth between his chin and his neck. His rude manner didn’t surprise you at all, but yet, you kept a strong posture and held your head high.

“I’m old enough.” you declared, not ripping your gaze from him once. Even through the dark tinted visor of his helmet, it felt like you were looking into his eyes, staring deep into his soul. 

So, he agreed. You told him to wait in the confession box by the altar. “I won’t be long, I just have to lock up and turn out the lights.”

As you walked down the aisle, you lit a match and ignited some candles. They were tall and made from beeswax, and the flicking amber flames provided barely enough light. But it had to be enough. It had to do. The wax dripped down the sculptures and chambersticks, pooling into swirls of hardening ivory. 

The Mandalorian waited for you in the confession box, having already discarded the plates of his beskar armour. It was hard to wear, and heavy on his back, but he felt safe… here, with you. He had no reason to be still wearing it. No more fighting tonight, he hoped.

The image of you couldn’t escape his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Dirty thoughts — it was wrong of him. You were the Grand Bishop’s daughter for Heaven’s sake.

When you entered your side of the confession box, your full intention was to follow the ordinary strict protocol. There was no reason for distraction.

“State your name for the records,” you requested, shuffling around as you worked on getting comfortable in your chair.

“Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin. It was a beautiful name. Your mind immediately went to pairing his last name with your first name, and then you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thought. 

“Din,” his name left your lips like the sweetest tasting honey. “Why are you here today? What would you like to confess?”

“I went to Corellia over the weekend,” he announced, his voice cold through the modulator. “The bad part— well, it’s all bad over there,” he corrected himself before continuing. “Got into some trouble gambling at Lady Proxima’s casino and a bunch of white worms surrounded me. So I killed them, all of them. I didn’t have to. But I did. I murdered them in cold blood.”

It was in that moment you learned how dangerous of a man The Mandalorian was. His beskar armour was just as cold as his heart.

“Wh— why did you kill them?” you asked timidly, almost afraid to know the answer.

“For the release. The adrenaline. The feeling of power. I can’t escape it. Have you ever killed?”

“N—no.”

Din scoffed incredulously. “Of course you haven’t.”

“What do you do after you kill?” you inquired, hoping to change the subject.

“Corellia has the best brothels… cheap too. I sought them out and look for a quick fuck.”

“Out of wedlock?” you pondered with a queasy frown.

Din laughed. “You’re asking if I’m married?”

He was right, it was a foolish question. 

“Do you enjoy your time at the brothel? Or do you regret it soon after?” you wondered.

Another laugh— and Maker, he made you feel terrible. Were you really that bad at this? 

“Yes, I enjoy myself. The girls there are pretty little things. Needy. Desperate. But— it’s not special, you know? It’s not… not exactly what I crave.”

“What do you crave?”

“To touch someone untouched. Pure. Holy…” the Mandalorian trailed off. “So, when I fuck the girls at the brothel, I tend to think of the Grand Bishop’s daughter.” He revealed, feeling his cock harden in the confines of his pants at the memory. You swallowed, a wave of heat immediately washing over you. You. He was thinking about you.

This was ridiculous. Was he messing with you? He had to have been messing with you. Sure, he’d seen you around before but neither of you had even held a conversation, prior to today. And he’d been thinking about you while he was sleeping with other women? You had to suck it up and remain professional, no matter how much it irked you. He was here to confess and you couldn’t let this become personal.

But it was so hard. Maker, why was it this hard? Was it because you’d thought about him too? Because you’d imagined his cock in place of your fingers, at night when everyone else is sleeping? You yearned to know more. You ached to know the details. Surely that was fair. He was speaking about you, after all.

You could already feel your panties begin to dampen with arousal. How could one man have such an effect on you? In your place of worship too. You wanted to punch him, kick him, take out all your anger on him. But most importantly, you wanted him. His touch. His hands on your body and his cock splitting you open. That’s what you wanted the most.

“What did— what did you think of?” You swallowed, anticipating the details. You were glad he couldn’t see how flustered and hot you were right now. It certainly wasn’t in the code for you to ask about details such as this but… surely one question would do no harm.

You could just about hear Din chuckle, from the other side of the wall, and it made your slick wet cunt clench around absolutely nothing. He was driving you feral. “I’d think about her ruby red lips and how they’d look wrapped around my cock. I’d imagine fucking her mouth, making her gag— wanting her to cry. I’d want to see the tears stream down her cheeks as I give her my all. And finally, I’d imagine her letting me cum down her throat.”

There was something about him talking about you, to you, in third person. Like you weren’t supposed to be there, listening. Like this information was not made for your ears.

Your panties were soaked at the thought. You couldn’t believe it. All this time, all these sessions of confession with your father, and it had only stirred him on more. He’d been going to confess, only to see you. 

“Tell me, princess. How does that make you feel?”

Shit. He could not be serious right now. You placed your palm flat against the wall and took a deep breath. “Mando, you’re here to confess. Not me.”

You tried to shut out his words, but your body ached for him. Ached to feel him… touch him. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you — but it would be wrong. It would be so wrong.

Another chuckle. You hated when he did that. As if all of this was some kind of joke to him. Did he even know what he was doing to you? It was like torture. 

“See, the Grand Bishop’s daughter… oh wow. She’s a vision. She dotes crimson red lips and she walks around as if she owns the place, her stiletto heels clicking against the floor. She’s bad, like the devil in disguise, and yet, I know her. She’s young and untouched. Her father will probably marry her off to some other minister in the outer-rim, ship her away for good. And she’ll be forced to deal with very mediocre sex for the rest of her life. Which is a shame, really, because she deserves better. You deserve better.”

“You have no idea who I am.” you spat out, feeling your cheeks burn with rage. How dare he make these assumptions about you and your family. This crude, older man with a tongue that could kill. How dare he. 

You wanted to be mad at him so bad. He couldn’t possibly get away with this. But he was going to. Because what exactly could you do? 

“She’ll never know how it feels to be stretched open by a real cock,” Din gritted out, dismissing your comment completely. “F—fuck.”

Din was palming himself through his pants, desperate for some kind of release. His sleuth, dirty words set a fire blazing in your core. You wanted it too. You wanted it so bad. You contemplated all the things you could do, all the actions and their consequences. You and the Mandalorian, both in the confession box. You couldn’t even see one another… the prolonged silence on your end prompted Din to get up and leave when he heard your honey velvet voice speak once more.

You had to say something.

“When the lights are out and everyone is asleep, I think about you,” you confessed, hating the way the croaky admission left your lips. You’d done it now. Din’s head snapped upwards to face the wall and oh how he wished he could see you right now. You were squirming around in your chair and when you heard the zipper of his pants become undone, you knew it was your queue to continue. “I touch myself. It’s hard to keep quiet… thinking about you. I imagine you touching me… running your gloved hands all over my body,” you bring your hand to your breast and give it a little squeeze. “I figure.. maybe you don’t take the gloves off. You praise me when you feel how wet I am, and I tell you that it’s all for you. I’m all yours. To use however you like. I want you to ruin me. Spoil me for any other man. Fuck me until I cant walk. Bite me, give me marks I have to hide during tomorrow’s mass.”

Din made a fist around his cock and began to pump as he listened to the dirty words that left your holy lips. His grunts and groans echoed throughout the box and went straight to your core. Oh how you wished you could see him right now. Peeling up the hem of your robe, you slid your fingers under the waistband of your panties and began to rub tight circles into your clit. 

“You’re a virgin?” he asked, although it came out more so like a statement. Like he already knew the answer. 

“Ye-yeah,” you whimpered, quickening your pace.

He was achingly stiff now, beads of milky white precum already dripping down his shaft.

“You want this?” He quizzed. “You want my cock right now? Think you deserve it?”

And in that moment, you made your decision.

Maybe this life that your father had given you, just wasn’t for you.

“Y-yes, oh God yes. I deserve it.”

A low and dark chuckle left Din’s lips. “You’ve been a child of God your whole life. But you want this, yes? You’ve been waiting for this?”

He was right. You had been waiting for this. 

“P-please Din, please. Wreck me. Ruin me.”

“In the chapel too?” he laughed, rising to his feet. “You really are desperate. C’mon then.”

In a fluster, you practically fell out of your side of the confession box.

The Mandalorian stalked towards you with his cock in his hand, jerking himself off as he got nearer and nearer. His eyes didn’t leave you once and although you couldn’t see his face, you could only imagine the predatory glint in his eye. Maker he was huge, and thick, and you wondered how you’d ever be able to take him.

You weren’t used to this— Maker, you’d never done anything like this before. There was no way your fingers would ever be able to compare to the size of the Mandalorian. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he grunted, releasing his cock and grabbing your throat, giving it an experimental squeeze. You nodded your head desperately and subconsciously licked your lower lip. “I must know. If I start, I won’t be able to stop. Do you want me to claim you?”

Just like Hades claimed Persephone? You shut the absent thought out of your mind and agreed to his proposition.

“I do.”

If it was so wrong, why did it feel so right? You had dreamt of this moment. How could you ever deny him? 

He pinned you against the altar and tapped at your thigh, gesturing for you to open your legs up. His eyes dropped straight to your dripping core and he had to hold back a guttural moan.

Din wasted no time and rubbed his cock along your slick wet folds. For a second you were afraid he’d knock over the many burning candles that you had lit earlier in the evening, before your little confession session had begun. But, to no surprise of your own, the Mandalorian had extremely good coordination. 

“Oh f-fuck, such a pretty little thing. So warm, bet— bet you feel so fucking good.” Din mumbled utterances of praise, his grip tightening around your wrists as he propped you up. 

Every now and again the bulbous tip of his cock rubbed over your clit and the sensation practically sent you into orbit. You were touch starved, having never experienced intimacy like this with anyone before. “Do you want me to fuck you now, huh? Want me to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours?”

You whimpered a small ‘yes’ and Din chuckled darkly, tapping his cock against your cunt before sliding into you with one swift movement.

You let out a squeal, your fingernails digging into the muscles of his back as he seated deep inside you. Underneath his helmet, his perfect lips were parted into an ‘O’ shape as your fluttering walls clenched around him and made him feel like he was home.

“Fuck— so tight, so fucking tight. Just like I’d imagined.” He murmured, feeling like he was already seeing stars. 

Din thrust upwards into you, the curve of his cock stretching you open and pulsating inside of you. His movements were rough and bruising, as his fingers dug into the soft flesh at your hips as he held onto you for support. Just like you’d requested, he was completely and utterly using you. 

“How’s that?” his gasp rolled into an achingly long groan as his balls slapped against your cunt, creating the most obscene wet sounds.

It was uncomfortable at first. He wasn’t soft or gentle by any means, but you’d anticipated that. After just a few thrusts, the intrusive pain turned into bolts of pleasure that coursed through your veins. It clouded your vision like white noise— like what the red berry wine you’d drink during Sunday mass would do to your mind. Din grabbed at the thin cloth that covered your chest, and ripped it off, exposing your bare breasts to him. A sheen of glistening sweat glazed your skin like the most beautiful honey dew. The Mandalorian was tall and broad, and as he towered over you, he coated you in his dark shadow.

His large hands palmed at your breasts and you moaned at the sudden, unexpected contact. He continued thrusting, fucking you mercilessly. With every movement, he hit that sweet spot inside of you, and you knew he’d been doing this for a long time. He was definitely experienced.

He dropped his hand for your chest and lowered it to your clit, expertly moving his two fingers across your bundle of nerves. That feeling, combined with his thick cock, was enough to send you over the edge. 

“Oh yes, yes, yes,” you chanted his name like it was a prayer— and he felt powerful.

The Mandalorian grinned wolfishly under his helmet as he increased his speed. You were seeing stars and it felt like your whole body was trapped under a spell. His spell.

“I ca- oh I can’t, I’m close, I’m close,” you cried as he continued to rock his hips into yours.

You hugged his body into yours, wishing the pleasure would never end. With every twitch of his cock he watched you intently. He watched the way your body reacted to him, revelling in the way your face screwed up in heated pleasure. Din adored the way your brow knitted together and your mouth parted as the most angelic noises omitted from your plush lips. 

“Have you ever felt so alive than you do right now, with me inside of you?” Din queried with a grunt.

“No,” you answered, shaking your head profusely. “Please don’t stop.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like a tornado and without warning, The Mandalorian split his seed deep inside of you, his salty cum roping your perfect walls as they gripped down around his cock. Now he had marked you for life.

Din returned to confession a week later when your father had returned from the Festival of Lights. There was no reason for you to see The Mandalorian anymore. 

“Forgive me, Grand Bishop, for I have sinned yet again.” Din announced, his voice clear as daylight after discarding his beskar helmet. He ran a gloved hand over his face.

“Another kill?” your father inquired, but from the other side of the wall, Din could only smirk.

“I’ve met a woman. A holy woman. And she has consumed my every thought. When I think about her I feel more inclined to sin, over and over again.” 

It was true. Your ruby red lips, high heels, thin robes… Din had become completely enraptured with you. 

Your father spent a moment contemplating the Mandalorian’s words, finding that he was speaking a lot differently than ever before. Not as ruthless or dangerous— but almost genuine.

“Would you give your body to this holy woman, if she requested you do so?” The Grand Bishop asked, not realising he was speaking about you, his own daughter.

“I already have,” Din confessed, subconsciously licking a stripe over his lower lip, at the memory of your taste. “And I would do it again.”

-—-—-—♡—-—-—-

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[99liv3s]

Be Careful What You Wish For

Lena laughed as she completed the last question of this little online contest she was participating in. The invitation had appeared in her email one day along with a link, and she had curiosity followed that link to a website that described the contest. All Lena would have to do is answer a few questions correctly before other "participants" and she would be the winner of "her fondest wish!!" Lena had laughed at this, thinking this was a fun little game someone had put up, and though she did not take it seriously at all, she decided to join in the fun. Where was the harm in it?? She was bored at the moment after all.

The "contest" consisted of a few straightforward questions that she was easily able to answer. Shaking her long blonde hair out of her face, Lena's bright blue eyes watched as the site processed her answers, then a message popped up on her screen: "Congratulations, you have won the contest!! You may now make your wish!! What do you desire??" Lena giggled as she jokingly pondered this question, then typed in the first thing that popped into her head: "I wish to live forever!!" Laughing softly as she hit the send button, saw "Your wish is granted! Thank you for playing!" And closed the window, Lena thought, "This was a cute, fun little distraction, but now I gotta finish chores!"

A couple hours later, Lena plopped into her living room lounge chair, rubbing her belly. She felt somewhat sick and bloated, but she was also exhausted from laundry and housework, so she figured she was just hungry and worn out. Shaking off the feeling, she decided that after she rested for a while, she'd make herself a sandwich. Another hour passed, with Lena watching TV when she looked down and saw a shock!! Her normally small petite belly had expanded outward, making her look very pregnant!! She gasped in horror, and jumped to her feet, a mistake that nearly sent her crashing to the floor, for she was not used to the balance of her new belly. She felt heavy, and full, confused as to how this had happened to her! "I'm having an allergic reaction, she thought anxiously. "That has to be it!!" "I've caught some sort of virus and I'm having a reaction to..." Her thoughts trailed away as she felt movement in her belly, and she absentmindedly rubbed it. "I... I can't be pregnant," she blurted out to her empty house. "I've never had sex... this has to be a bad dream, right??"

Lena waddled into her bedroom and reached the nearby bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She looked nine months pregnant, her belly hanging out of the clothes she had been wearing on the body that had been so small and slim just a few hours ago. She was still confused and scared as to what had happened to her when suddenly, she doubled over as a painful contraction hit her. Lena gasped as she felt pressure build up, then a gush of water leaked out of her, soaking her bottoms.

"UUUGGHHH", Lena moaned as she slowly made her way back into her bedroom. She reached the bed and climbed on it, as she felt something heavy drop onto her hips. Frantically, she kicked off her pants as she felt huge pressure in her pussy. She could not help but push, screaming in pain. "AAAAHHHHHH!!" Lena felt a burning sensation as whatever was coming out of her began to crown. She struggled to get her panties off, panting and crying as the pain peaked. As the head emerged farther, causing a bulge to form in her underwear, she screamed a high pitched scream and whined as the burning and pressure worsened. She knew she had to get her panties off, or it would block the baby that she was somehow delivering, so she gritted her teeth through the pain and pulled her underwear down to her feet. She then began kicking, not just to get the panties off her feet, but because the pain was so bad, it caused her to thrash around like crazy. She whined and moaned and cried as she felt the heavy head slowly push out, stretching her pussy wide. Screaming, she pushed, willing this process to go faster. "THIS HURTS!!!" she yelled, though she knew no one else was in the house. Finally, she felt a pop and knew the head had finally gotten out. Without waiting another second, Lena pushed, brushing her sweaty blonde hair out of her face, and felt relief as the baby left her body.

For about a minute, Lena lay there, shaking, hardly able to believe what had just happened to her. Then, something in her mind clicked as she realized "Wait, if I just had a baby, shouldn't it be crying??" Lena slowly moved around so she could pick up the baby she had just birthed, noting three distinct things about it: First, it did not have a umbilical cord attached to it, just a belly button. Second, the baby was a girl, with blonde hair the same general shade as Lena's, and third, the baby was not crying, but Lena could clearly see that it was alive and healthy, almost content. Her eyes were closed and she moved around and kicked, as if she had been born for a while and was just simply sleeping. Lena held her baby and stared at it for the longest time before realizing how exhausted she was. Afraid she might accidentally turn over on the baby as she slept, Lena decided she would not sleep with the baby in her own bed, and so the new mother gingerly got up and found the softest part of her bedroom's carpet she could find and placed the baby gently onto it, laying her on her back. Thinking that she would try to figure all this out tomorrow, she fell backward onto her bed and fell asleep.

When Lena awoke the next morning, her first thought was, "Oh God, what a horrible nightmare!! It felt so real!" As she rose up, she realized something was wrong. She was lying on the floor, naked. She looked over her body, thinking. "Did I fall out of bed??" She got to her feet and then her blue eyes fell upon the bed, and she screamed. The shirt and bra she had been wearing last night were lying on the bed, being worn by a skeleton. Lena trembled as she looked around the room, her mind racing. After a while, she remembered where she had placed the baby she had birthed... it had been lying in the exact spot where Lena had woke up, but as she now looked at that spot, there was no baby there, nor any sign there ever was. As she continued to ponder this, terrified, she also realized that her body felt better than it had ever felt in her life, almost as if it were a new....body....

Lena rushed into the bathroom and vomited as realization hit her. She had given birth to herself. Somehow, after she had fallen asleep, her body died, and her consciousness or soul or whatever had transferred to the baby, which had apparently grown rapidly. She looked herself over, noting that her body seemed to be the same age as it had been last night, in her late 20s. "How is this possible??" She breathed. Lena made her way back into the bedroom, noticing at once that the bones were now gone, leaving only the clothes she was wearing last night, and what appeared to be sweat and other bodily fluids. Lena shuddered at the thought, but did not know what else to do. Her tummy grumbled, and she realized she was starving... of course, this new body had not eaten yet.

Hours later, Lena had eaten, dressed, and had gone into work. Sitting at her desk, her mind was not on her work, however. She could not get her odd situation out of her mind, and the more she pondered on it, the more it made sense that the body she now inhibited was the one she gave birth to. "The baby's features were just like mine," she thought. "Female, petite body, blonde hair... if I saw its eyes, I bet they were blue, just like mine!" "I never had sex, so the baby could only be another me!" "But, how??" "How is this possible??" "What caused this to happen to me??" Lena spent all of her workday lost in thought, and after a while, convinced herself that it had to have been a nightmare. She must have hallucinated those bones, and just simply did not remember taking off her clothes, or falling out of bed during the night. As for her body feeling better than it ever had?? Maybe that was just a result of healthy living lately!! When she arrived home, Lena grabbed her bra and shirt from off her bed and threw it into the laundry. She then looked around the room, and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she told her mind it was a vivid nightmare, and to forget about it, and get on with her life.

Two days had passed, and Lena had not given the incident another thought. She had been shut up in her office, preparing an important presentation for her boss to give soon. Her friend and co-worker Marianne had come by to collect the finished presentation, and Lena stood to hand it to her. "Excellent," Marianne said "Lena, this is just what our boss needs to secure that new agreement!!" "You always come through when we need it!" Marianne's brown eyes looked Lena over. "Oh, by the way, congratulations!! When are you due??" Lena looked at her friend confused. "What??" she asked, before looking down at herself and barely stifling a gasp. She was sporting a small bump, almost as if she were about 3 or 4 months pregnant. Her mind raced in panic as her friend was still speaking: "Boy or girl??" After a few seconds, in which Lena composed herself, she smiled and said, "Oh, it's a girl!" Marianne nodded. "I don't know why you didn't tell me or any of us before now, but again, congratulations!" Lena smiled as Marianne left the room, the Lena scrambled for the bathroom. As she closed the door behind her, she collapsed against it, breathing rapidly. "This can't be happening!" She thought. "I can't be pregnant!!" "This isn't happening again!!" "That was just a nightmare... wasn't it??" She glanced into the mirror, her shining blue eyes staring back at her, eyeing her small bump, and she groaned softly. "What the hell am I going to do??"

After she got home, Lena decided that she was not going back to work for a while. This proved to be a good idea, for as the week passed, her bump grew rapidly, and by the time she reached the weekend, she looked ready to pop. She had called the office, telling them she had caught a virus, and that she would be working from home for a while. This worked perfectly, except apparently Marianne began to worry about her, as she had begun calling Lena everyday. Lena assured her she was fine, just sick, and when Marianne asked about "the baby," Lena told her that she need not worry about it.

On the day Lena realized a full week had passed since she had had her supposed nightmare, she tried to get out of bed when she was hit by painful contractions and pressure. "Oooohhh", she moaned, rocking back and forward on the bed, clutching her belly. Hoping that walking might help the contractions, Lena got shakily to her feet and began taking small steps around her bedroom. With each step, Lena felt the baby inside her drop lower and lower. Eventually, she could not take it anymore and she dropped to her knees, crying out in agony. She spread out on all fours, her large belly hanging down and her blonde hair in her face, inwardly thankful she had been going to bed naked lately. Tears streamed from her blue eyes as she wailed and pushed, her butt and vagina high in the air. The baby's head tunneled roughly through her birth canal as she panted and moaned. Her legs shook with pain and cramps as Lena let out another roar of pain. As the head began to peek out of her, she felt the burning in her pussy that signaled the baby's crowning. "OOHH!! OOOHHH GOD!!" She yelled. "AAHHH IT HURTS!! IT'S BURNING!!!!" she cried and grabbed the top of the bed, pulling herself into a semi-squatting position, hoping gravity would help. Lena threw her head back and cried out loudly as she felt the head seem to split her vagina open. Bearing down, she pushed until the head was hanging out between her legs. Stopping only to pant and catch her breath, Lena reached down with her left hand and felt the baby's head. When another contraction hit, she squatted and groaned as she gave another push, and the baby dropped onto the carpet.

After spending a few minutes to rest, Lena looked down at the baby. Like before, it was a little girl, not attached, and not crying, but clearly alive. Lena held and hugged the baby against her chest, thinking rapidly. "It wasn't a nightmare, unless I'm having it again!" "What do I do??" "Do I dare fall asleep again??" Thinking back, Lena was convinced that giving birth this second time seemed more difficult and more painful than the first, but she was not sure. Realizing that she was exhausted and hungry, Lena placed the baby in the center of her bed and staggered to the kitchen. Her body after giving birth was sore and weak, but everything seemed to be over. She made a quick sandwich and collapsed on her sofa in the living room, lost in thought. As she ate silently, random questions popped into her head, and she decided that today, since it was early in the morning when she had given birth, she was going to experiment.

12 hours later, with night falling outside, Lena felt more confused than ever. After eating earlier, she had returned to her room and started touching and talking to the baby, in an attempt to get it to open its eyes, but it never did. Lena then tried to feed it, holding it up to one of her breasts, but nothing happened. On an upside, there was no diaper to change either, for the baby did not seem to have to poop or pee. If not for the breathing and it occasionally moving around, Lena would have sworn the baby was just a realistic looking doll. Tired, Lena decided to try one last experiment before she went to sleep. She had brought the baby into the living room and placed her on the sofa. Lena then returned to her bedroom, thinking that if she woke up on the sofa tomorrow, then it confirmed her theory about what was happening, assuming she could fall asleep will so many anxious thoughts in her head. However, as soon as her head hit the pillow, Lena drifted off immediately.

Lena turned and felt herself hit the floor. Snapping awake, she found herself lying in front of her sofa. She let out a soft scream and jumped to her feet. Rushing into her bedroom, she found her bed soaking wet, and only the pajamas she had worn to bed as part of her experiment. Trembling, she backed against the wall and slid down it onto the floor, burying her face in her hands. "It's true!" She thought. "Everytime I fall mysteriously pregnant, I give birth to a baby that will eventually become my new body!" "But, why?? And how??" "Am I cursed??"

Lena again did not go back to work. She decided to spend the day on the internet, searching for answers, ignoring a missed call from Marianne. Scouring the internet, she tried to determine if anyone else had ever been in her situation before, but she was unsuccessful. She had even posted her situation in a few forums on the deeper parts of internet, but only got responses telling her she had a vivid, or a sick imagination, and that her "ideas" would make a good story. Frustrated, Lena was getting ready to shut down her computer, before noticing the new email icon, and something clicked in her mind. She was reminded about that strange online contest she had taken, and realized that it was right after that when all these strange things had started happening to her. Lena accessed her search history and located the website where she had played the contest. She saw that message thanking her for playing and then found the information she had overlooked before. "Questions??" It said, with a phone number under it. Her heart racing, Lena grabbed her smartphone and called the number immediately!

After two rings, a kind female voice answered, telling Lena that she had called the helpline for the online contest. Lena told the woman everything that had happened since winning the contest, expecting the woman to hang up, laugh, or even tell her that she had no idea what Lena was talking about. However, to her surprise, the woman answered "Of course!" "What is happening to you is what you wished for." Lena fell silent confused. "I wish to live forever," the woman said as if she was reading it, then said with a giggle, "That wish has come true." "With each week, your body produces a brand new replacement, and once you give birth to it, it becomes your new body." "Constantly changing to a fresh body each week means you will never grow old and die." "Congratulations!!" Lena gasped in shock. "How do I make it stop??" She asked the woman. "Stop??" The voice repeated. "Why would you want to??" "Your wish is granted." "I didn't think that was serious," Lena yelled in a pleading voice. "Please, you have to help me!!" "It hurts to give birth every week" "I don't want this wish anymore!!" "Please get rid of it!" "That can't be done," the woman responded. "All granted wishes are final!" "Have a nice day!" With that, the woman hung up. Lena tossed her phone to the side and collapsed into her chair, crying. "I AM cursed!!" She blurted out!!

Lena called and quit her job, thinking that, in order to avoid awkward questions, she would have to find a job that allowed her to work from home. Three days later, she had accepted an online application for a work from home proofreader, which was similar to what she did before, but would allow her to avoid human contact and submit her work online. She was already showing another small pregnant bump by this time, and she absentmindedly rubbed it as she finished chores around the house. Though a part of her mind had subconsciously accepted her new life situation, Lena was still dismayed that she seemed to be stuck in this cycle of "rebirth" forever. She had continued to search the internet for any kind of hope or help, even going so far as to search for unusual births, frequent birth fetish sites, and even post about her situation in various birth related forums, but it seemed that her situation was unique, or else no one else had gone public with it. Her failure to find even a shred of hope caused her to fall into a kind of depression, and she only half-heartedly threw herself into her new work, knowing that she still needed money regardless.

After six days had passed, Lena was lying spread out on her sofa, her hand resting on her large belly as she read a romance novel, trying anything to help take her mind off things, when a knock at her door made her jump. Confused, Lena rose up and waddled to her front door, seeing Marianna through its small window. Lena opened the door, greeting her friend and former co-worker, who looked at Lena with concern. "Lena, what's been going on with you??" Marianne asked. "I haven't heard from you in days... you quit your job suddenly, and refuse to answer my calls or texts." "Are you ok??" Marianne looked Lena up and down, taking in the huge bump. "Lena, I didn't know you were that far along!" "Does all of this have to do with the baby, because I know that..." Marianne trailed off, for at the mention of the word baby, Lena burst into tears and fell into Marianne's arms, crying hysterically. "I'm... I'm not ok at all!" Lena sobbed, as Marianne held her. "Mari, I don't...know... what to do!!" For a while, Marianne just held her friend, listening to her crying, then looked into Lena's eyes, and asked, "When's the last time you left the house??"

An hour later, Marianna had driven the two of them to the park, thinking that some time out of the house would do Lena some good. As the two of them walked slowly through it, having the park mostly to themselves, Lena realized that Marianne insisting that she get out of the house was a good thing, for Lena began to somewhat feel better. "Lena, please talk to me," Marianna pleaded, a concerned expression on her face. As they continued their stroll, Lena shook her head, staring at the ground, and her protruding belly. "I want to tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me," She relied. "Tell me what??" Marianne asked, still looking at Lena with concern. When Lena did not respond, Marianne stopped her and the two of them stood in a large patch of grass in a deeper corner of the park. "Lena, you can tell me anything," Marianne said to her. "Remember, I'm a scifi and fantasy nut!" "Whatever it is, I'll believe you." Lena looked into her friend's face, thinking that if anyone in the entire world would believe her right now, it was Marianne. So, Lena took a deep breath, and told her everything: About taking the contest and making her wish, about how she had fallen pregnant without warning, how she had given birth twice already, about how she had discovered that she was giving birth to her own replacement bodies, and how she had found the help line for the contest, and how the woman over the phone had confirmed what Lena had suspected. Marianne listened to her friend intently, and when Lena finished, she was relieved that Marianne had not laughed at her or told her she was insane. "Unbelievable," Marianne gasped. "So, it's a curse, and it can't be undone??" Lena nodded somberly. "Mari, you gotta help me... I don't know what to do." Marianne hugged her friend, comforting her. "Of course, Lena, there must be something that we can do," she said, smiling. "We'll figure it out together!!" "I'll help you look deeper online, and I can discreetly make some inquiries with some friends who might be able to help." "We'll figure something out, I promise." Lena looked at Marianne, feeling the first bit of joy and hopefulness she had felt since this crazy situation had begun. It was a long shot, yes, but at this point, she needed any silver of hope that she could get. Lena sighed happily and let out a laugh, embracing her friend as much as she could, before a painful weight hit her hips.

Lena cried out in pain, nearly falling to the ground, if not for Marianne catching her. "Aagghh, it's coming!! Mari, it's coming!!" Lena cried, feeling the pressure in her lower abdomen. "Oh God, Lena, we've gotta get you to a hospital," Marianne responded, pulling out her phone to call an ambulance. Panting, Lena stopped her, grabbing Marianne's hand. "No.... no hospital!" Lena breathed. When Marianne stared into her face shocked, Lena shook her head. "How... will I... explain.... this?" "Too.... many.... questions..." Lena squealed as the pain worsened, and Marianne dropped her phone back into her purse. "Ok, back home then," she said. "Back home where it's more comfortable and private..." "There's.... no....time..." Lena said breathlessly. "It's... starting... to PUUUAAAAA!!" Lena let out a yell of agony as another contraction forced the baby painfully through her pelvis. "OOOHHH!! MARI, HELP ME, IT HURTS!!" Without another word, Marianne grabbed onto Lena and helped her over to a nearby park bench, thankful that this section of the park was currently deserted. As Lena moaned and cried, Marianne helped her onto the bench, taking off her bottoms, and positioning one of her legs to hang across the back of the bench, so that Lena was lying across it with her legs open. Lena screamed as she felt the burning and pressure in her vagina. "MARI, IT'S THERE! THE HEAD'S THERE!! IT BURNS!! OOOOWWWWW!!" Lena screamed as her pussy began to stretch around the head. Marianne moved in between Lena's legs, seeing the tip of the baby's head lodged in her small vagina. "Lena, honey, you're doing great!" Marianne coached. "Don't worry, I'll catch the baby when it comes out!" "It'll all be over soon!" "When you feel you need to, push!!" Lena screamed as the head emerged slowly, opening her wider and wider. "AAGGHH, IT HURTS!!" Lena yelled. "OH, PLEASE GET IT OUT!! MARI, PLEASE!!" As Lena begged and cried, Marianne rubbed her legs softly, watching as the head inched out. After another minute, the head fully emerged with a pop and a gush of fluids, causing Lena to gasp loudly. Marianne laughed and nodded in relief, looking into her friend's eyes. "One more push, Lena!!" She told her. "Just one more!"

45 minutes later, Marianne drove into the driveway of Lena's house, with Lena herself in the passenger seat, holding the baby girl that she had just given birth to in the park, weak and exhausted. Marianne got out of her car and then helped Lena slowly to her feet and guided her into her house. Lena lowered herself into her nearby armchair as Marianne took the baby from her and placed it onto the sofa. "That was intense, Lena," Marianne said to her. Lena nodded weakly at her friend and smiled softly at her. "Thank you for being there," Lena said quietly. "Is it always like that??" Marianne asked. Lena sat in quiet contemplation for a moment before saying hoarsely, "No, it seemed worse that time!" Lena stared at the baby lying over on the sofa, moving around timidly, lost in thought. Why did it seem like each time she gave birth, it felt worse?? Was it just her, or was it somehow because these bodies were technically giving birth after being a week old?? Lena watched as the baby continued to squirm silently. She did not think this baby was any bigger than the last two, so she did not understand. Would the next one be even worse? Lena noticed Marianne watching her, and gave her another weak smile, trying to assure her wordlessly that she was ok. "So, what happens now??" Marianne asked, looking around the room. Lena sighed and shook her head. "I don't know," she responded. "Everything that happens next just happens." "I fall asleep, and when I wake up, I'm somehow inside the baby's body, which is instantly the same age as when I fell asleep!" "I don't know why or how..." Marianne stared into her friend's face, clearly astonished. "So, wonder what would happen if someone was watching when you fell asleep?" She inquired. Lena just shook her head, too exhausted to think, though in a part of her mind, she wondered this too. "Lena, I'm gonna spend the night here," Marianne told her. "Maybe we can find out, and besides, I think you need me." "You shouldn't be alone during all this." Lena looked up into her friend's face, and simply nodded. "Okay," Marianne placed a hand on Lena's shoulder and squeezed it softly. "Alright, you rest for a while," she said comfortingly. "I'm just gonna run back to my place and pack a few things, ok??" Lena nodded and watched as Marianne walked back out the door. Lena was weary, and also hungry, so she eased out of her chair and made her way to her kitchen, finding a few cookies to munch on. Afterward, she went to her bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, letting out an exhausted sigh. She only wanted to rest, like Marianne told her to do, but within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Lena was jerked awake by a loud scream, and she rolled off the couch and onto the floor, disoriented. She got to her feet and ran into the bedroom, where she saw Marianne staring at a human skeleton wearing the clothes Lena had worn to the park earlier. Marianne was trembling with shock, and yelped again when she turned and saw Lena standing naked behind her. "Lena, it... it's TRUE!!" Marianne blurted out. "I believed you, of course, but seeing it for myself..." Lena placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know, Mari," Lena said. "I've been living it the past few weeks." After Lena had quickly thrown on some clothes, the two of them returned to the living room, where Marianne collapsed onto the couch Lena had awoken from minutes earlier. "Packing took longer than I thought," Marianna explained. "When I came back in, I saw you asleep on the couch, and I didn't think anything about it, so I thought you put the baby in the bedroom, and I decided to go in there, and that's when I saw..." She trailed off, looking shaken, and buried her face in her hands. Lena sat next to her and put her arms around her comfortingly. "It was me, but not anymore," Lena whispered. "I'm right here now, and I'm ok!" Marianne looked into her eyes. "Until the next time you give birth all over again, right?" She asked. Lena nodded, and her face fell. "Yeah, in about a week, I'll be doing it again," she responded. "I'm cursed!!" Marianne seemed to have calmed down, and she looked at Lena, seeming to examine her entire body. "I'm not taking away how difficult this situation is for you, Lena," she began, "But, if you look at this another way, you could call it a gift too." "I mean, you never die, and you're good as new each week..." Marianne faltered under the shocked and scathing look her friend was giving her. "Sorry, I know you didn't want this," she said. "Like I said in the park, I'll help you find a solution any way I can!"

As the day passed, the two of them talked, with Marianne asking question after question about Lena's predicament, clearly fascinated and curious about it. Lena explained as best she could, and the conversation even continued when the two of them realized they were starving, and Lena decided to cook something for the two of them. It was later in the evening, while the two of them ate spaghetti Lena had cooked up, when Marianne had proposed staying with Lena on a longer term basis. After thinking about it, and listening to Marianne explain how she should no longer be alone during all this, Lena agreed, and the two of them took a trip to Marianne's apartment, to pack up more long term items for her, including her laptop, which would be essential for Marianne to help research Lena's situation.

A few days later, the two of them had established a routine, with Marianne still going to work during the day, leaving Lena to do her own work, chores, research, and more importantly, rest for what was to come. Lena had already begun showing again, as predicted, and the two girls had agreed that they would continue to keep this entire situation secret from anyone else. As such, Lena once again rarely left the house, lest she run into anyone and be forced into answering awkward questions.  Lena had also flat out refused Marianne's suggestion that she go to a hospital the next time she was due to deliver, for the same reason.  She did not want to imagine what would happen if she transitioned into the new body while inside a hospital room.  Lena knew this would once again mean she would be giving birth at home, with Marianne as her midwife, and though she hated to put her friend through that again, it was necessary.  Lena therefore was very patient and accomadating when Marianne began to comment on her rapid pregnancy, insisted in touching her bump, and started making preparations.  After all, Lena thought, having someone make plans in advance, as well as just having someone with her, might be helpful.

Marianne had certainly done her research into birth.  Close to the end of the week, with Lena's belly large and protruding out, Marianne had transformed Lena's bedroom into a personal home birthing suite, complete with a birthing ball and even a small tub.  Marianne also insisted that Lena do nothing but rest as the time for her labor grew closer.  Lena appreciated all of the effort her friend was putting in for her, and was thankful that she had ultimately shared her secret with Marianne.  For the first time since this situation had begun, Lena found herself not so depressed, for Marianne seemed to be able to do anything she set her mind to, and that gave Lena hope that perhaps together, they could even find a way to get her out of this mess.

A day after Marianne had finished transforming Lena's room, Lena lay in bed, on her side, moaning loudly, as pain and pressure had started up inside her as she had slept.  She rubbed her huge belly as she cried loudly, which brought Marianne running into the room.  "It's started??" Marianne asked, coming over to the bed.  Lena nodded, her eyes shut.  "It hurts, Mari, oh God, it hurts!" She whined.  The contractions wracked her body, growing in intensity, and Marianne gently tried to help Lena up.  "Here, Lena, get on the birthing ball, it'll help," Marianne said gently, helping her friend waddle over to it.  As Lena sat and began rocking on the ball, she admitted inwardly that it did seem to help.  She rocked silently, her eyes closed, changing her rocking pattern with every movement.  Focusing on trying to change this every time helped to take Lena's mind off the pain.  Marianne stayed with her, massaging her back, holding her hand, and whispering consoling words to her.  Eventually, however, the pain became too much, and Lena screamed out! "I HAVE TO PUSH!!" she yelled, and cried as the weight of the baby pressed on her hips.  Marianne had, in advance, filled the tub in the room with warm water, and she now helped Lena slowly into this water, hoping that would ease the pain.  Lena sighed as she felt the water warm her entire body.  She still felt pain and pressure, but it was not as bad.  "Thanks, Mari," she breathed to her friend.  Marianne only shook her head, and then Lena said, "For everything!!"  Marianne was about to respond, telling Lena there was no other place she would rather be, when Lena let out a moan and thrashed around in the water.  "I FEEL IT COMING!!" Lena screeched.  "Push, Lena!!" Marianne coached.  Lena pushed and pushed, gripping the edges of the tub tightly.  Marianne rubbed Lena's legs while simultaneously holding them open.  "I already see the head, Lena," Marianne cried happily.  "You're doing great!!"  "Uuuuggghhhh," Lena groaned as she gave another push.  With the head hanging halfway out of her vagina, Lena threw her head back against the head of the tub, panting.  "I don't know how much longer I can do this," she breathed.  "You've got this, Lena," Marianne reassured her.  "Just a bit more!!"  Lena felt another contraction and began to push, then screamed and thrashed as the burning hit her vagina full force.  "AAAAHHH, IT'S CROWNING!!" Lena yelled, as Marianne tried to calm her down.  After another minute of Lena's screams echoing through the room, there was a loud splash as the baby emerged from her into the water.  As Lena collapsed in relief, Marianne lifted the baby out and placed her on the bed.  "You did it, Lena," Marianne cried happily.

Marianne had helped Lena to the bed and moved the baby to another bed on the other side of the room.  Lena fell asleep almost immediately, tired from giving birth, and Marianne was determined to watch everything until Lena woke up.  A few hours passed, with Marianne watching both her friend and the baby, and then suddenly, as she blinked, the baby was instantly a full grown Lena, with no signs of change.  For a moment, there were two sleeping Lenas in the room with her and then the one in Lena's original bed stopped breathing.  As Marianne continued to watch, an hour later, in another blink of an eye, the first Lena became a skeleton, still wearing the clothes she was wearing when she fell asleep, as the new naked Lena stirred.  Marianne was at a loss for words as her friend got up from the new bed and searched for something to wear.  When she finally found her voice again, Marianne said with an uncomfortable laugh, "Well, I guess we can keep all this stuff here, since we know you'll be needing it again in a week!"

It was two days later, the girls having gotten back to their routine, when Marianne had finally found something.  She had sent Lena's e-mail to a buddy of hers, and he had traced the location of its sender.  He sent this location information back to Marianne, along with assurances that he did not read the e-mail, nor did he want to know what was going on.  Marianne shared this information with Lena, who felt herself tremble with excitement.  "That's only several hours away from here by car," Lena exclaimed excitedly.  "I know," Marianne said.  "We can go and meet with whoever is in charge of that contest and convince him to lift the curse."  Lena's heart sank a little.  "But, that woman on the phone said the curse couldn't be reversed," Lena stated.  Marianne shook her head, still smiling.  "She probably told you that because it would be an inconvenience to do it," she responded.  "If he or she is face to face with you, we can force them to lift it, somehow."  "Don't worry!"  "Soon, it's all gonna work out fine, I just know it!"  As Lena throught to herself, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up, Marianne checked her watch.  "I have a busy workday today, but I'm off tomorrow," she said.  "We can go then!"

The next day, the two of them woke up early, had a quick breakfast, and then got in Marianne's car, to begin their five hour drive to the location in Marianne's information.  Lena already had a small bump again, which had motivated the girls to start their trip as quickly as possible.  As Marianne drove, Lena sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly rubbing her little belly as the two of them discussed what they would say to whoever they were about to meet.  Eventually, since they had very little information to go on, the girls exhausted this subject and began discussing other things, like what their future plans were.  Lena, hopeful that this curse would be gone soon, wished to pursue a career in writing.  Perhaps she would turn this experience into a story of some sort.  Marianne, meanwhile, did not seem  to have any future plans, having always mostly lived in the moment and had never really thought about it.  Eventually, after five hours, they stopped in front of what looked to be an old house, and Marianne confirmed from her notes that this was the location.

The two girls entered the house, finding the door unlocked.  They found themselves in a large open living room, with a few chairs placed around and a fireplace against the wall.  Sitting on top of the fireplace were several lit candles.  As the two girls looked around the room, they noticed that the place was lit only by various candles dotted around the room.  A grandfather clock stood in a corner, ticking softly, and a circle was drawn in the center of the room.  "Woah, what is this..." Marianne exclaimed, before a young dark haired man dressed in a dark cloak entered the room from a doorway in the opposite wall.  He looked at the girls, then said calmly, "You are Lena, one of my contest winners!"  "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME??" Lena  blurted out angrily.  "I didn't think you contest was real!"  "I granted your wish, Miss Lena," the man responded.  "It is quite real, and your wish was to live forever!"  "But, why did you make it happen like this??" Lena yelled, as she motioned to her small pregnant bump.  The man sighed.  "Because, it was the only way," he responded.  "I am a sorcerer, but my magic is limited."  "It can't extend life, but it can create a new one, for the act of conceiving is a process that already exists!"  "A bit of cloning magic, as well as soul transference, and life acceleration..."  "TAKE IT AWAY," Lena yelled.  "I don't want this wish anymore!!"  "Reverse the spell or curse or whatever you did!"  The sorcerer shook his head sadly.  "I'm sorry, there is no reverse spell or any way to stop or cancel my magic once applied."  "What I have given you is yours forever."  Lena gaped at the sorcerer, feeling as though her insides were falling.  She had hoped there was a way to undo this curse, but now, it seemed, there was not.  "I can't go on like this," Lena pleaded.  "Please, there must be something you can do!"  The sorceror shook his head apologetically, but Marianne spoke up.  "I have an idea," she said, and the other two looked at her.  "You said the spell could not be undone, but can it be moved or transferred??" The sorcerer stared at her.  "Yes, it can be, but I don't understand..."  "Then, give it to me instead," Marianne said, before looking at Lena and smiling slightly, as Lena gaped at her.  "Mari, what??" She said breathlessly.  "It's ok," Marianne answered.  "Remember when I said this could be a gift instead of a curse if you thought about it differently??"  "Well, I have thought about it, and for me, it would be a gift!"  She turned to the sorcerer.  "Can you do it??"  "I can," he reponded, nodding.  "Mari, I can't let you do this," Lena said to her friend.  "Lena, please, I want this," Marianne said.  "I found what was happening to you fascinating and amazing, even a dream come true."  "You don't want it, but I do, so we both win!"  "But, the birth... the pain..." Lena said, staring at Marianne in disbelief.  "I'm not worried about that, Marianne said happily.  "It's actually an experience I would treasure each time."  "Please, Lena, let me do this for you, and for me, ok??"  Lena sighed, and a tear ran down her cheek as a feeling of great relief flowed through her body.  "Ok, Mari," she said.  "Thank you!"

The sorcerer led the two girls down into a large basement room, with what looked like a large round pool in the center of it, filled with what looked like water.  He instructed the two of them to take off all their clothes and then both submerge themselves completely for 20 seconds, as he performed a ritual.  The girls did as they were asked and the two of them slowly walked down into the pool until they were both fully underwater.  After counting to twenty, Lena emerged from the pool and a splash, the sound of dripping water, and someone trying to catch their breath told her that Marianne had come out as well.  Looking over herself, Lena saw that the small baby bump was gone, her body back to its small petite form.  She looked over to see that Marianne now had a small bump, which she was clutching in one hand as she spluttered the water out of her mouth.  "Mari, look," Lena exclaimed, pointing at Marianne's belly.  "It worked!!"  "You're..."  "I'm pregnant!" Marianne said, happily, looking over herself and rubbing her belly.  "It is done," the sorcerer stated.  "The spell has been transferred."

As they drove back to Lena's house, the two girls talked happily, both having gotten what they wanted!  Lena was free, and never had to worry about giving birth again, short of actually having kids of her own someday.  Marianne, meanwhile, had taken the curse, or gift as she called it.  As Marianne giggled, driving happily, Lena stared at her.  "Mari, I'll never forget what you did for me," she said to her friend.  "Thank you so much!"  Marianne laughed.  "I should be thanking you, Lena," she responded, rubbing her belly.  "You've given me something special, and I can't wait to experience it."  Lena smiled.  "I was thinking," she began, "It might be good for you to have someone around that is experienced in this situation."  "Since your stuff is already at my house, and you'll need it soon, why don't you continue to hang around my place?"  "I can help you when it's time, and I enjoy your company!"  Lena patted her friend's belly, inwardly thinking that she'd be much happier delivering a baby every week than actually being the one giving birth.  Marianne smiled at her.  "You know what," she said.  "I think that's an excellent idea!"  "Let's start our new lives, together!!"

End!!

[earlgreydream]

enemies.

| bucky x reader | fluff |

requested by @fitzfiles​ enemies to lovers 

this is technically a highschool au, but only slightly. we love bucky being a loveable ass out here

Your eyes narrowed and you glared at Bucky. You couldn’t stand him. Bucky was popular, flirtatious, and an asshole. He was always flirting with you at school, and you always felt like he was trying to make a joke of you in front of everyone. On top of that, it made other girls envy you, tainting friendships with jealousy.

It seemed like you were the only one who didn’t want Bucky Barnes. 

“You’re such an ass!” You snapped at Bucky, who only laughed in response. You hated when he tilted his head to the side, the stupid smirk you loathed pulling at his lips. 

“Don’t be like that, doll.”

“I’ll do whatever I want! Leave me alone, I’m not going to fall at your feet like everyone else!” You stood up from the library where he had been absolutely intent on distracting you from finishing your homework, the reason for the fight in the first place.

You were the only one who didn’t give him every ounce of attention he desired, and he was determined to get it. 

You sat on your bed, a folder of history homework open in front of you. You studied with music softly in the background, needing a break from trying to study with Bucky bothering you every five seconds. 

“Y/N,” your mom called your name as she walked in the door. 

You looked up, setting down the document on World War II. Your father was behind her, and you grew uneasy, wondering what they possibly felt they needed to both talk to you about.

“We’re worried about you, dear.”

“Worried? Why?” you laughed, surprised by their explanation.

“We’re just concerned that you don’t have the same social life people your age have. You seem to always be up here, studying in your room. We want you to meet some people, and have some fun,” your father explained.

You were confused by the explanation. You spent most of your time at school, and around other students. You did have friends, but you also prioritized your grades. You certainly were not the hermit they were making you out to be.

“You don’t need to worry-”

“But darling, you’ve never dated. One of our friends has the most charming son, and we think he’d be perfect for you. We want to set you up.” Your mother was smiling, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Perfect for me?”

“Yes! He’s so charming, and he’s sweet. He’s also incredibly intelligent, his grades are wonderful. He travels a lot, you know, has that worldly kind of sense. And, he’s beautiful. We were thinking of setting the two of you up, having them over for dinner.”

You couldn’t deny that this sounded too good to be true. The boy they were describing sounded perfect for you, and although you cringed at the idea of your parents setting you up, you were intrigued.

“What is his name?”

“James!” She beamed, and you raised your eyebrows.

“I will go on one blind date with him, if you stop giving me a hard time about my social life.”

“One date. You can meet him at dinner tomorrow, and then the two of you must go on one date. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But try for us, honey.”

“I will, I promise,” you smiled at your parents, excited and nervous to meet your supposed dream-man. 

You dressed up for dinner once you were home from school. You’d never even seen this boy, and yet your tummy was filling with excited butterflies. Your name was called from downstairs, and you quickly ran down to meet them. 

You nearly tripped over yourself as you stopped dead in your tracks. You were met with an all-too-familiar silver gaze, and the smirk that made you so, so angry.

“Bucky.” 

Your voice was cold, and all of the butterflies shriveled up and died, the excitement fading from you. You were furious that you’d agreed to go on a date with him in addition to sitting through this dinner.

“You two know each other?” His mother asked, surprised.

“Quite well, actually. We have history together at school, right doll?” Bucky was trying not to laugh, only fueling your irritation. 

“It’s Y/N. And we’ve met, yes.” 

This motherfucker. 

Dinner was long and painful, and you were forced to listen to what a perfect prince everybody thought Bucky was. You were surprised to hear about his academic standing, one that competed with your own. It was clear by his expression that he didn’t want the news to get out that he wasn’t a complete anarchist. 

You cringed as your parents praised you too, unsure of who they were trying to impress. You were quiet, not giving a single damn about being polite to the boy you hated. 

“Why don’t the two of you go upstairs?” your mom suggested, and you sighed, holding back a massive eye roll. Being alone with Bucky was about last on the list of things you wanted to do.

You stood up under the pressure of four gazes, and Bucy followed you up the flight of stairs. He couldn’t contain his amusement for the situation, and you walked into your room and sat down on the edge of your bed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Did you know it was me?”

“No, I really didn’t. But I’m glad it is.” He almost sounded sincere.

Bucky looked around your room, taking in the soft lavender walls, and the white bedspread that you sat on top of. Everything was soft and sweet, like you. Fairy lights hung above the bed, casting a gentle glow over the room. Bucky thought you looked beautiful.

“Quit staring at me,” you snipped, pulling your knees up to your chest.

He smiled, stepping in from the doorway and sitting beside you on the bed. You were angry at yourself for noticing the way the lights seemed to make him look golden, glinting in the reflection of huge silver eyes.

“How could I not?” He breathed, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

No. No, this is not happening. You will not let yourself be seduced by this cocky asshole. 

“Save it for the date,” you rolled your eyes and he smirked. 

“You’re not looking forward to it?” Bucky asked, and you shook your head with a face.

“No, of course not.”

“Come on, I’ll show you a good time. You’ll probably even realize that you’re in love with me.” His grin was infectious, but you fought off the urge to smile back.

“In love with you? Hardly.”

“I’ll give you one night. You’ll change your mind.” 

“You seem confident,” you snarked, rolling your eyes at his arrogance.

“I always am.”

You watched him as his eyes traveled over the room, seeming to take everything in. Bucky noticed every small detail, including the sketch of daisies that leaned against the wall on top of your desk. 

When he was finally called away, he stood in front of you, leaning over you with one hand on the wrought iron bed frame. A soft smile broke onto his face, and you felt warmth spread through your chest, reaching up to your cheeks.

“Goodnight, doll.”

You scowled at the dress that was laid out in the end of your bed when you got home from school. You’d been dreading the date, especially when Bucky winked at you during history class. He didn’t make a show of embarrassing you in front of his friends. You hadn’t even heard gossip about it, so he must not have told anybody. 

You were a bit surprised, you thought that Bucky would seize the opportunity to be the subject of gossip and attention, dragging you into it with him. 

Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you’d been set up for a friday date after school with Bucky. The doorbell rang, and you went to answer it, your eyes widening a bit when you saw him in jeans and a button down. 

Fuck, he was handsome. 

“Hi James.” 

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” he said honestly, and you couldn’t stop the warmth from blossoming on your cheeks. He held up a bouquet of daisies, and you bit back a smile, taking your favorite flowers from him. You realized he noticed the drawing, and something about that made you feel fuzzy inside. 

It was too bad you didn’t even like him.

“Let me set these down, thank you.” 

You put them in a vase on the table, and he followed you. 

“You didn’t tell everyone at school.” It was a statement, but you meant it as a question.

“Why would I? I knew you wouldn’t appreciate everyone in your business,” Bucky confessed. Despite the amusement he gained from getting on your nerves, Bucky did like you, and he did respect you. The idea of others participate in the teasing, more than just his bit of playfulness, upset Bucky.

He wanted you to like him. 

You followed Bucky outside to his yellow car, one that was sort of vintage. He didn’t drive to school, and you realized you had never seen his car, but it somehow fit him. You got in the passenger seat, and he handed you the chord to play your own music.

You nervously scrolled through your phone, deciding that the safest bet for music was bon iver, and he broke into a smile, leaning forward to turn up the stereo.

“I love this song,” Bucky grinned, surprising you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning forward and watching the buildings pass by as he drove you to an unknown location. 

“Just trust me.”

He parked and was opening your door for you before you could get out. You stepped out and took his outstretched hand, deciding you had to at least give this as much of an effort as he was. 

His hand was soft and he squeezed you gently as he led you inside the huge aquarium in the city. It was your favorite place to go, and you wondered how Bucky knew that. 

“You mentioned it once, in class,” he spoke as if he read your mind, or at least read the bright smile on your face.

“I can’t believe you remembered... Or that you even listened,” you laughed.

“I always listen.”

You walked through tunnels filled with colorful fish, and they swam around you on all sides, even under your feet. You gasped and pressed your hands to the glass, letting go of Bucky as you watched a sea turtle swim by. Bucky watched your delight, smiling at your excited squeal.

“Look!” you pointed, and he grinned.

“I see, it’s so cool,” he indulged you. 

You moved through the tunnel, into a room of separate tanks, all smaller and holding their own creatures. You struggled to see the clown fish in the top, even standing on your toes.

“What’re you doing, doll?”

“Trying to see the nemo fish, but-” you squeaked as Bucky’s hands went around your waist, and he lifted you up so you could see. You blushed and smiled, looking at the fish swimming around. He gently set you down, and you wrapped your hands around his arm, a little bit shyly.

The two of you spent hours looking at the creatures, and you let him wrap his arms around your waist as you stood and watched the jellyfish. 

“They’re so pretty!” you gasped, and Bucky could see the reflection in your wide eyes, and he couldn’t ignore how his heart raced when he looked at you.

You found yourself feeling the same way.

“This was great, James. I didn’t think you’d manage to win me over, but this is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you confessed shyly as you left, the sky already dark. He beamed at you, his silver eyes lighting up when you smiled at him.

“I’m so glad, but we’re not finished yet, doll.”

“You spoil me,” you giggled, and he pulled you to the car.

“Come on, or we’ll miss it,” he hurried you, laughing as he got behind the wheel. 

He drove to a park and got a blanket from the backseat, producing a basket that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Picnicking in the dark?”

“Hush and come with me,” he insisted, laying out the blanket on the grass and pulling the food out. 

You bit into a piece of fruit, leaning against his side. You gasped as fireworks started to go off overhead, and you looked at Bucky, who just smiled back at you. 

“I thought you’d like them.”

You watched the light and colors explode in the sky, enjoying the dinner he brought. You ended up leaning back against Bucky’s chest, wrapped in his jacket when you complained of being chilly. You couldn’t believe that over the course of a few hours, he had managed to work his way into your heart, and you were now in his arms.

“Do you want to come in and stay?” you asked Bucky as he pulled up in front of your house.

“I’m invited?”

“Yes.” 

He smiled, grabbing sweats from his trunk, explaining that he always had a change of clothes, on account of being an athlete. You teased him with a giggle, going inside with him and up to your bedroom. 

You changed into a pajama set and laid on your bed with him, the two of you staring up at the tiny, glittering fairy lights above you.

“You look perfect like this,” you whispered.

“Not as perfect as you.”

“What happens Monday? Do you go back to being an ass and I go back to hating you?” your voice was soft, and although you were joking, the fear behind it was real.

“I was hoping I could call you my girlfriend on Monday.”

You leaned over and kissed him, answering the question. When he kissed you back, it was like a million tiny fireworks exploding inside of you, instead of in the sky overhead. 

“You changed my mind in one night.”

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

abshwvshsh imagine Paladin Danse with Baby Fever.

Got alittle drabble?

*I got like an idea where Paladin Danse and Alex(fallout oc) go on a mission and end up finding an orphan baby and as Alex is taking care of it, Paladin Danse is like 😍😍🤩🤩. So yea lol.*

(I totally deviated from the prompt but I was hoping this would be satisfactory as well? 😅 if not, I'm more than happy to write for the original prompt, just send me another ask)

Perhaps this feeling was simply a product of the desertion he felt after exile.

You were so very kind to him. You were there for him when he had hit the lowest point fathomable, when his life as he knew it was ripped away from him and left him with this deep melancholic emptiness. It took time, of course, but like always- you were patient with him, truly there for him.

If asked, Danse wouldn't know exactly how you did it, but piece after piece you managed to put back together what he once felt was broken beyond repair. Maybe it was the way you valiantly fought to reassure his life's value, maybe it was the long days you spent at his side so he may not feel lonesome, but most likely it was the love you professed that let him know that if someone as wonderful as you could have such profound feelings for something like him...then yes, maybe he was truly worth more than he believed.

Nonetheless, there were still some times that Danse would sit in your cozy little home, a far off look in his eyes as he thought deeply about something you just couldn't quite put your finger on. Once, you would've been able to just look at him and know what troubled him- a trait he didn't care for in the slightest- but lately...he wasn't quite as easy to read.

His identity would forever be something he struggled with no matter how much progress the two of you made, this you knew and understood, but whatever was on his mind as of recent didn't seem to have the same effect. For instance, these moments you'd catch him in..he wouldn't look nearly as tense, which may be a fruitless observation to note- but hey, every little detail meant something with Danse. In addition to this, the proud ex-paladin would usually seek your comfort if his mind raced to such dark places and now he would only sit in silence.

Instead you were left puzzled, watching the man you love sit and continue on with his mental strife- only moving every so often to fidget with the glistening metallic band on his left ring finger.

You never would've guessed that the reason he was so deep in though stemmed from the child sitting on your kitchen counter, eating one of Danse's prized snack cakes with Shaun. The child happened to be one of the settler's kids, a little girl around six years of age- so far too young to help out in the farm, and too young to leave unattended..so naturally, with you being the bleeding heart you are, you agreed to help out the girl's parents and watch her every so often while they worked. Besides, after your marriage to Danse..and Shaun coming home, there wasn't very much adventuring going on anymore. It wasn't a big deal though, Shaun rather liked having company (even if he preferred hanging out with Duncan more) and having a younger child around didn't bother you in the slightest.

Unbeknownst to you, watching the way you cared for the two children really struck a nerve within Danse. It was almost enchanting to watch you fuss after them, leading his mind to wander off to the most fantastical places.

"Okay, Shaun, do you think you can handle taking her back home? Her ma and pa should be finished working out in the field by now. I'll send Dogmeat with you." You spoke, receiving a rather exasperated expression from your little boy as he gracelessly slid off the counter, feet landing with a soft *thud*.

He proceeded to hold a hand out to his much shorter, younger friend to help her down. "No problem mom..." He all but grumbled as he began to lead her out the side door. A blur of brown and black fur at your feet let you know your faithful companion was at attention and ready to escort the two children- a happy bark followed by the closing of the door eased your mind shortly thereafter.

Had it been anywhere else, you probably wouldn't have let Shaun leave without you or Danse..but given that the girl's parents lived two doors down- you didn't really worry. However, you DID worry about the ex-paladin.

With a casual sigh, you sauntered your way into the living room- only a little surprised when you realized your entrance hadn't done much to catch his attention. Regardless, you pushed on and decided to sit right beside him- smiling just the slightest bit whenever his gaze finally shifted away from his wedding band and to you instead.

"Alright." You began, making no qualms about scotching closer over to him until he instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "What's eating at you?" You simply prodded, head resting on his chest.

Danse visibly stiffened, as though under the impression that his silence went unnoticed. He couldn't have been more wrong- he knew better than to think anything would get passed you. Even if it had, the thrumming of his synthetic heart against your ear surely gave him away.

Before he dignified your question with a response, he shifted around so that he could properly face you- still holding you yet able to move his head in such a way that he might be able to see the way you'd react completely to what his next words were going to be. And…maybe to get your attention away from the heavy beating in his chest.

That's really when you noticed it. The fleeting look in his eyes, the unsteadiness of his breath, the slight pink shade decorating his nose and cheeks..Danse was nervous.

"This..I apologize but this going to seem completely out of the blue.." He finally spoke, sighing as he closed his eyes just for a brief moment- trying to collect himself so that his nerves might not get the best of him. This is a matter that he had been wrestling with for some time now, the last thing he wanted was to get so anxious that he couldn't speak.

Alas, calming down seemed to only get harder for him. True, it had only been a few seconds since he spoke but the way you looked at him, so concerned and so..sweet, made time slow down and his damned heart incomprehensibly race.

"Whatever it is Danse, I've got you.." Great- now that concern he picked up on was lacing your voice as well.

Was it truly necessary for him to complicate things to such extremes? It's not like the topic was completely alien to either one of you..and damnit, you're the one person he felt he could speak his mind freely to..so why wasn't this any easier?

Then came the words you never, ever, ever, would've expected to hear from his mouth.

With his eyes soft, and his voice even more so, Danse spoke. "I know we have Shaun, and don't get me wrong- I truly do love the boy as a son, my son...but have you ever considered what having a child of our own would be like?" It was in that instant that Danse realized how abrupt his words may have came out, that tender gaze of his slowly retreating to look anywhere but you. "Forgive me, it's um..it's selfish of me to anticipate you being ready for such a thing, especially considering what we have both went through this past year.."

Unable to focus on much else but the drumming noise inside your head from the profound beat of your heart, your trembling hands grabbed at his and squeezed.

"You know..you have a bad habit of cutting me off before I can tell you what I think, sir." You laughed, trying to distract from the tears threatening to well up. Sure, it may have been a slight over reaction but..with Danse wanting a family..it was one hell of a step in a good direction. "What happened in the past..well, it should stay there. The two of us have something most people never get, we have the ability to start anew and leave our troubles behind us, Danse. So...god, I don't think much else would make me happier than having a baby with you.."

Once the ex-Paladin got over the initial shock of your words, he all but mauled you in a breath-stealing kiss- his arms wrapping tightly around you to the point of making the promise of breath a distant memory. Nonetheless, you couldn't help but enthusiastically kiss the man back...at least until-

"MOM! Gross!!" Shaun shrieked, having opened the door at quite possibly the least opportune time. Great.

Danse pulled back with a shameful blush on his face, averting his eyes from the young boy who was now fake gagging as he walked off to his room.

“Guess we oughta see if Mac is up for letting Shaun stay over with Duncan..hm? You know, just to get a head start..” to this, the ex-paladin’s adorable blush deepened tenfold.

Fantastic....or rather...outstanding.

[juletheghoul]

Oblivius Chapter 6

So I'm thinking next chapter will be... a big one.

You cannot know how happy I am to see all your comments and reblogs and messages and general kind words about how this story is making you feel. Love y'all. Keep asking! Keep messaging! I want to talk about this all day lmao.

Likes & reblogs are appreciated

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Pairing: Frankie x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Angst, slow-burn, yearning, 18+ language (Please let me know if I forget anything)

Masterlist Series Masterlist Prev Part Next Part Playlist

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

Age: 20

“Why did you even ask me out Frankie? Do you even like me?” She was embarrassed, walking towards the door.

“Yes of course, I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.” He tried to walk it back but she was incensed, her cheeks burning bright with anger. She rounded on him when she got to the door, making him step back slightly from her onslaught.

“When you invited me over to meet your friends I didn’t expect to be ignored so you could flirt with her. Get your shit together Frankie, I’m not gonna go out with someone who’s too busy pining over someone else to notice me.” Her eyes were bright with un-shed tears, if she expected some sort of answer or explanation - he had none.

He watched her go.

“Everything okay Francis?” Spills had come looking for him.

“Yes, everything’s good. She had to go.” He had a big smile for her when he turned around.

“Will she be back?” Thankfully she hadn’t heard them.

“I doubt it.” He couldn’t be too sad about it though, not when she looked up at him like that.

——————

**Present Day**

He could still feel her wrapped around him as he walked to the shore. Could feel her moulded to his back, her legs on his waist. He had meant every word he’d said to her, he would gladly stay there with her forever.

“How was the water babe?” Claudia kissed him when he lay on the towel next to her to dry off, wrinkling her nose slightly at the water that trickled from his hair onto her face.

“Beautiful.” His eyes were on Spills, floating in the water. “You should take a dip.”

“No thanks, I’m perfectly happy here. Can you get my back babe?” She smiled up at him but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were trained on the water. “Francisco?” She had to tap him to get his attention. He tore his gaze away to face her.

“Sorry babe, yes of course.”

You can’t keep doing this Francisco. Get your fucking shit together and focus.

“You okay fish?” Pope's voice startled him slightly and when he turned to look at him his expression was serious. “You seem a little… distracted.” His eyes quickly flashed towards Spills floating in the water.

I never should have told him.

“I’m fine.” His voice was clipped, he really didn’t need this right now and he hoped his tone was warning enough. Pope didn’t say anything but he had a feeling he’d hear about this later.

“I wanna ask her out.” Benny had sat down beside Frankie and was staring out at Spills.

“You should! You guys would look cute together, wouldn’t they babe? We could double date or something.” Claudia was happy at the prospect but Frankie's stomach dropped. He felt the anger crawling in his gut, tensing his muscles at the prospect of Benny with her.

This isn’t normal, I shouldn’t feel like this.

“I think you should, Benny.” Pope clapped him on the back. “Fish - I think you should put in a good word for our boy.” It was hard for Frankie not to lash out but why would he? He was engaged and Spills was free. What reason could he possibly have to not want this to happen?

There’s only one reason why, and I can’t fucking help it.

“Yeah of course. I’ll talk to her.” It took everything in him to keep his voice neutral.

“Only ask her out if you’re serious, don’t bother if you’re going to fuck around because that’s his friend, she’s not a random.” Will chimed in, ever the voice of reason and Frankie was thankful.

“I know that.” Benny smiled, and Frankie had to keep quiet.

----

Everything was quiet. Your ears were submerged as you floated peacefully in the water, eyes closed. The ocean always managed to make you feel safe despite its size. Maybe that was what appealed to you, it was so vast and unknowable, you could get lost in it.

You saw the shadow obscure the light despite having your eyes closed. Pope was in the water with you and you smiled at him. Of all the army friends Frankie had introduced you to, Pope was the most mysterious. He guarded his words and you had the sense that he knew way more than he let on.

“Did you have anything planned for the bachelor party yet?” His question dropped a boulder into your stomach.

Fuck, I forgot about that.

“Nope - hadn't even remembered until you said it. I have no idea how the hell to plan one.” Your eyes widened at the thought of it and he laughed, not unkindly.

“I figured, I can help you out. He’s a simple guy - but I'm guessing you already know that. I’m guessing you know much more about him than we do in a lot of respects.” He was smiling at you but there was something underneath his words, a tone you couldn’t discern.

“Probably - known him a long time.” It felt like you were under the microscope.

“Years worth of stuff that Claudia doesn’t even know.” His eyes were burning into you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was gauging your reaction.

“In all likelihood, but she’ll learn eventually I imagine.” Your voice sounded a lot calmer than you felt.

“Obviously no strip clubs, that’s not his thing. Just get all his friends together and get him drunk.” He was watching you closely but your eyes were focused on Frankie, he was laughing and happy - talking animatedly with Will about something and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I can see how much you love him.” Your eyes flashed towards him. “Like a brother, right?” He raised his eyebrows at you and you felt the colour drain from your face.

Am I that fucking obvious?

“Yeah… like a brother.” You were lying, even when you were younger you knew you’d always loved him, but it never felt brotherly. He knew. “See ya.” As much as you wanted to be in the water, you couldn't handle the scrutiny anymore and you made your way back to shore.

---

The rest of the day was spent mostly in your head, you tried to focus on the conversations you had. You tried to focus on the water and the sunshine but it seemed like Pope’s words and his implications followed you.

“You okay Spills? You’ve been distracted all day.” You’d been on the road for almost half an hour and you’d barely said anything.

“Yeah - sorry, just tired. Need a shower.” You smiled at him weakly.

“You sure? Seems like you have something else on your mind.” He glanced over to you and your heart swelled. His curls were defined from the salt water, his face was a little pink from the sun and he looked so warm and soft. You ran your fingers through his hair seemingly without thought. It was so soft and you had to fight the urge to keep touching it.

“I’m okay Francis - gotta plan your bachelor party.” You couldn’t keep the sadness out of your voice, hoping it came across as tired. You were both silent the whole ride home.

--------

You never would have thought it, but you were glad to be back at work. It was the one place that had no memory of Francis. You could come in, completely focus your energy and forget everything for most of the day. In all the time you worked there - you’d never been this productive but with the wedding slowly approaching, the anxiety was slowly creeping in.

Nowhere was safe now.

[unknown contact]: hey Spills! It’s Claudia - I got your number from Frankie. I was hoping you’d be able to come with me tomorrow to the bridal store. We have to make sure you match everyone on the big day!

Really fucking wish you wouldn’t call me that.

[you:] hey Claudia! Uh yeah sure what time?

[claudia😒]: great! Appointment is for 10am - I’ll send you the address, see you then! 🙂

[you]: sounds great - see you then!

Well that’s just great.

It had been a week since the beach trip and the peace couldn’t last.

—-

There was something about Claudia that got under your skin.

She’s marrying the love of your life, obviously she gets under your skin.

She was friendly enough, and she loved Francis - you could see that in her excitement; but there was something underneath. You got a sense that she was trying to pull a fast one on him.

“Spills, if Frankie and I move, would you come visit us? I think you’re holding him back a little bit.” She was standing as they made adjustments on the dress which thankfully had made it in time to be altered.

“What? What do you mean?” Where was this question coming from?

“Well, he wants to stay here. He wants to live close to his mom and you, but I’m trying to convince him to live back home with me. Maybe if you told him it would be okay and that you’d visit he’d give in.” Your blood was boiling. Give in? His wants and needs had to mean more to her than that?

I have to calm down, I’m overreacting.

“He already told you he doesn’t want to leave? Maybe you guys should compromise? Middle-ground?” You had to put your diplomatic hat on, couldn’t just tear into this girl. The logical part of your brain told you that this was normal - couples disagree about things all the time and it made sense that she’d want to be close to her family and her home.

“Yes he’s set in his ways. It’s frustrating.” She laughed lightly. “I just think that if you gave him your blessing he’d be more open to leaving with me.”

But you don’t have my blessing, I’m the wrong person to come to with this.

“I really think you should talk to him about this - he’s never been the kind of guy to be swayed. Won’t matter what I say.” You were being honest as well as telling her it wasn’t your problem in a roundabout way. She didn’t say anything else and you could tell she wasn’t happy with your answer. You left it alone.

---

You couldn’t put it off any more, as much as you were dreading this wedding you still had responsibilities as his best-person. You had to get everything together and throw this stupid fucking bachelor party.

You messaged all of the friends you knew he kept in touch with, telling them about the outing. They had things planned the whole week up until the wedding so it had to be the Friday before the wedding. Which means you had little less than a week to get it together.

[you]: Hey Francis - can you give me Popes number? Trying to plan your party!

[Francis]: Sure - sending it now. Hopefully it’s nothing too crazy?

[you]: Shit… you mean you don’t want your own parade? Should I cancel the army of exotic dancers?

[Francis]: You’re hilarious, honestly.

[you]: just taking you to a bar you fool, just want to coordinate with him because I don’t have everyone's contact info.

[Francis]: Sounds good, thanks for this - I never got a chance to ask but how did it go at the bridal store?

[you]: Went well

You thought about everything Claudia had said and debated on telling him. Would he want you to? Would she want you to? Somehow you didn’t think she’d be too happy unless you were on her side. Which you decidedly weren’t.

[you]: Think you should talk to her, she’s not happy with you wanting to stay here, after the wedding I mean. I support you whatever you decide but she seemed to think that you needed my blessing in order to leave with her. I told her she needed to talk to you - and I’m telling you the same thing.

Being honest and supportive was the best course of action and you hoped that neither of them (him more so than her) would be upset with how you went about it.

It worried you though when he didn’t answer and you had to trust that they would both understand that you didn’t actually want to influence anyones decision.

Liar, I want him to stay. Even if it’s not with me. I want him to stay.

You pushed the thought away and messaged Pope, the both of you came together and planned a dinner for everyone on the Friday before the wedding, which would turn into the bachelor party after. In five days, he’d be married and if Claudia got her way - far far away from you.

------

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[stressedoutcanary]

Family Matters - Batfamily x Reader

Summary: A surprise birthday party and Batfamily being chaotic.

“That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them”

Warnings ⚠️: Fluff, lots of it, angst because I can’t help myself, Reader has got some parental issues. Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I wanted some good dad Bruce content so I did it myself. Also I might have been influenced by a post I made a while back about Bruce and his children. I haven't used reader's pronouns anywhere so it's kinda gender neutral.

I don’t know where I was going with this, my imagines are often like a train derailed from its track but I think it’s fine. So Enjoy ;)  

•°•°•°•°

"Focus (Y/S/N), don't jump in in blind, assessing what action your opponent is about to undertake and countering it out before they can complete that action, this is the key lesson for you today", Batman's commanding voice echoed in the enclosed area of the batcave as he observed you attempting to roundhouse kick the boy in front of you. It was rather rashly executed with the hope of knocking him down which, for obvious reasons, only ended up with your leg connecting with nothing but thin air.

'Damn he is fast when he actually tries.'

"Easy for you to say Old Man! You aren't the one dancing with Mister Duckboy, the teen wonder over here!", you exclaimed, panting as your chest heaved from the exertion.

"Duckboy?!", Tim looked near scandalized as you grinned in return, stealing a glance towards the giggling crowd gathered near the stairs.

Everyone was already in the cave, it was a rare occurrence, it happened only when the issues of upmost importance were being discussed. Today was one of those days; The planning of Alfred Pennyworth's surprise birthday party.

However things usually went a lot less violent, this day every year. The sparring session this year was the result of you messing up, real bad while on patrol last night and since you were around the same age as Tim, he was found to be the most appropriate partner for it. The only drawback was that he had a staff in his hands while your weapons were confiscated, because in Bruce's words 'you rely on them too much'. You were already tired and Tim had a huge advantage over you, if you wanted to win this match you had to be quick and efficient at the same time.

Distracting Tim by your comment allowed you to have an opening, gathering all your strength you went in for a forward strike. Unfortunately he was more than ready to take you on, he crouched down, narrowly missing your punch then proceeded to swipe your legs off of the ground with his bo staff making you fall butt first on the floor.

"Congratulations you've managed to hurt both my ass and my ego, Timbers", You said laying back on the ground, hands and legs spread out and instead of helping you up, Tim joined you on the floor sitting next to you. You gave him a look that was equivalent to 'next time I get the chance, I am going to push you off a roof'.

"Your skills need improvement", Bruce said in his monotonous tone as you grunted knowing that a full ass lecture was gonna follow, but before he could get another word out, Jason chimed in with a statement no one ever expected to hear from him,"You know (Y/N), he's not wrong in fact I think the old man's actually got a point."

Jaws dropped to floor, Tim looked like he just saw a ghost, Dick who was standing near Barbara pinched himself to see whether he was dreaming or not, Damian snapped his neck up from where he was sharpening his katana, even Titus and Ace perked their heads up at the sudden silence that settled over the place. Barbara, Cass, Duke and Steph looked equally shocked.

"Before you all get any ideas, what I'm trying to say is you better pay attention because B over here won't be able to save your ass, 'cause if you slack off the next thing you know you would be in a warehouse with a maniac, getting blown to bits", Jason looked at Bruce with accusing eyes.

'And here I thought he was finally going to say something sensible', you thought to yourself as he continued,

"Take it from someone who has had that experience, you guys remember right? The fact that I--"

"Died, we know!!", everyone groaned at the same time and Bruce looked like he had to physically restrain himself from faceplaming.

"Okay! Guys how about we go ahead and do the thing we all actually came here to do instead of... whatever this conversation was", you suggested, getting up and patting the dust off your clothes.

"Well then someone has got to ask the important question here", Barbara looked around as she worded her sentence,"who is going to be the one to keep Alfred busy while we get everything ready?"

Once again the cave went silent. For a whole bunch of detectives, you all were very, very scared of Alfred, including Bruce even though he will never admit it, lying to The old-butler-cum-grandpa and making random excuses for the whole 3 hours was a thought dreadful enough to make all of you exchange petrified glances at each other hoping someone would step forward to do the job.

"I'll do it", dick raised his hand.

"NO!", everyone snapped and Dick's head tilted with a pout.

"You are good at doing a lot of stuff boy wonder, hiding things from Alfred isn't one of them", Barbara comforted Dick as Damian stepped up next.

"*tt* Since none of you imbeciles have the courage or the ability to do it. I shall be the one to handle Pennyworth. Gordon, Cain and Titus, I will require your assistance", Damian spoke or rather commanded as he went up the stairs, followed by the group he chose.

"Don't mess this up for us, you gremlin!"

"Tim!", you lightly jabbed him in the side with your elbow.

"Ow! What?"

"Be nice", you narrowed your eyes and he understood you were being serious.

"Fine I'll try, but don't blame me if he starts something", Tim shrugged carelessly. You shook your head and let out an audible sigh as you followed everyone else up towards the manor.

•°•°

"That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them", you eyed him worriedly.

"Oh come (Y/N) it'll be fine!", the cheerfulness in his voice made you cock an eyebrow at him from below. Duke slid in beside you.

"10 bucks says he will somehow fall within the next hour"

"Oh Duke you should know better, 20 says he'll fall within 30 minutes", you turned towards him with an evil smile.

"What are you both talking about down there?"

"NOTHING!", you both said in unison on which Dick gave you a confused look.

"Oh Hey look Steph needs my help with the cake so, see ya!", you quickly moved to the other side of the room checking in with Stephanie and Tim. She gave you a thumbs up to signal that everything was going according to plan and the place was almost ready. Everyone was laughing, bickering, having fun, it was all very rare and seeing it, a warm feeling spread throughout you.

You smiled to yourself for a moment but it faltered and a frown pulled up at your lips, a sorrowful thought crossed your mind, something you always kept buried deep down. Looking around and seeing as nobody needed your help at the moment you decided to slip out of the chaos, taking slow steps towards the patio to clear your head.

•°•°

Leaning against the railing you thought back to how you left your house this morning telling your mother that you are going to stay at your friend's place for a while and how she just waved her hand at that, not even questioning you anymore. Your mind was completely elsewhere, despite the awe-inspiring dense forest right in front of you, your eyes were lost in space.

You registered, a bit too late, the presence of someone standing beside you.

"It is a nice view, but something tells me that's not what brought to out here, away from everyone else"

"Careful there Brucie or people might think that you are actually capable of some emotions which happen include caring for people", you retorted back at him. It was always a sort of defense mechanism for you, whenever you felt exposed you countered it with snarky remark.

You closed your eyes hoping that Bruce would just walk away. But he didn't. He stayed there.

Bruce leaned on the railing beside you and waited. You took a deep breath, contemplating you next move carefully.

"...Look It's really silly so can we drop it?", you whispered wondering why in the world would Bruce of all people, care about your feelings.

"Talk to me (Y/N). I can tell when something is bothering you, I may not be your father, but you are my family.", unlike usual, his voice was gentle and genuine when he spoke to you.

"I am really not a fan of surprise birthdays", you stated, starting off vaguely.

"And why is that?"

"Because I...It's silly but this one time I spent a whole week working on a birthday gift for my mom, it was like a craft pop up box which had multiple photos of us together, I made that from scratch! everything in it I made that, I worked hard for it, I did it out of love but when I gave her that surprise gift you know what she said Bruce! She said that I wasted my time that she would've been much happier if I had focused on my studies, she never even once said that she liked it and I--", you looked at him with tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill.

"I don't know Bruce, it-it just makes me feel sad you know? every little thing reminds me that my mother doesn’t seem to love me anymore. There is this constant thought in my mind that no one cares about me, about what I do for them and I don’t know what to do with a thought like that."

"That's not true, look around you kiddo, you are surrounded by people who would do anything for you, who love you from the bottom of their hearts", Bruce finally looked at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's the thing! I am not an orphan!", you blurted out and Bruce looked more confused than ever.

"I'm aware"

"No! No you are not. I am not one of those kids you picked up from somewhere, I don't live here, Like I am sure you people aren't even sane, hell! you all make up the most dysfunctional family I have ever seen! I don’t belong here, you people have no reason to care about", Bruce gave you a sideways look, slightly chuckling at your sudden description of the people in the manor.

"But I still love everyone, my mom, you, every dumbass inside the manor right now, no matter much pain they cause me and I don't get why", this time when he looked at you, you didn't look like the vigilante who sucker punched The Riddler in the face last night, you looked like a scared little kid who is lost.

Bruce stood up straight and wrapped you in a hug. Something you never expected to happen in a million years. The shocked settled in after a bit and you wrapped your hands around him, burying your face in his chest.

"The people we love are still people at the end of the day. They act out, and sometimes they let us down, hurt us even, but that doesn't mean we stop loving them. For every bad memory, there will always be a good one that will get you through it. I promise you that (Y/N)", Bruce pulled away and gave you a warm smile. You couldn't help but smile back, your face matching his.

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne? because I don't recognize this man who is full of emotions and on top of that, is giving free hugs right now", you broke into a grin, making Bruce's face go back to the stoic version.

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it"

"Sure you will"

Suddenly a clattering sound came from the hall, alerting you both. This, however, was followed by a 'I'm okay!' By the one Dick Grayson, which in turn was followed by Duke's 'Oh no!'

"Any idea what that was about?", Bruce inquired raising an eyebrow as you burst out laughing.

"That, you big softie, was the sound of me getting my 20 dollars, now let's get back before they destroy everything."

•°•°

You and Bruce entered back into the hall, everyone was gathered around waiting for Damian and his group to signal the beloved butler's arrival. You stood next to Tim as Jason moved towards the switches to turn off the lights.

"Okay I'll bite why are you covered in frosting before the party even started?"

"Steph", Tim replied, too tired to elaborate, leaving you giggling.

Barbara, Cass and Damian rushed through the door, looking close to terrified, with Titus tagging along.

"He is here, HIDE!", Damian said quickly closing the doors.

After a few moments, the door creaked open and Alfred's voice came through, "Master Damian, you and I will have words for what you did to-- Oh my", he was stuck to his position at the door, too shocked to say anything more after looking at the decorations and bunch gathered around an enormous cake.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED!!", you all exclaimed with extreme excitement.

As the party went on you noticed that there was, in fact, a broken chandelier broomed to the side, later on there were a few not-at-all-safe stunts performed by the boys, some really bad puns made by Dick, all sorts of shenanigans by the others and cake, lots of cake. You looked around, everyone was busy doing something but now you knew Bruce was right:

You have one hell of a family, original, found or otherwise. And you love them all no matter what.

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @thesesickfics-justmakemesick

[miss-smutty]

Forbidden

Chapter 1

A/N- I've teased y'all for so long I hope this series is going to live up to expectations, I'm confident it will though because I'm addicted and it's been super easy for me to write - I'm up to chapter 3 so far so updates can be on time! There's a slight age gap between my professor Hemsy and OC Jess but she's twenty and completely legal. You know this is gunna be a giant tease fest for the first couple of chapters cos that sexual tension is fucking gold 🥵

Summary- Jess meets the man of her dreams and then stupidly leaves without getting his number. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 1.5 K

Pairing- Professor!Chris Hemsworth x OC

Warnings- Swearing, age gap

18+ only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th August 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle

@skyfullofsong123 @swaggysposts

Chapter 2

I pulled out a chair at the last available table in the unusually busy coffee shop, I thought I might've caught a break choosing the one outside of campus but alas I was wrong.

I was about to sit down when the chair opposite me slid out from under the table, my eyes lifted to meet with the most sparkly blue eyes i'd ever seen. The sight of him took my breath away. Literally.

I stood staring, frozen on the spot, my mouth slightly ajar as I looked him up and down. He was tall, so tall, definitely over 6ft and built like a dream. Thick thighs straining against his fitted trousers, wide muscular shoulders and I just knew there was a six-pack hiding behind that tight t-shirt. 

"Sorry. You were here first, I'll just grab a take-out." He smirked a side smile, amused at how I was so obviously checking him out but his sexy Australian accent distracted you from anything else.

"It's fine, I'm on my own. I don't mind if you want to sit there too." I mentally face palmed myself, drawing attention to the fact I was alone wasn't the best idea but then again he was alone too. "I don't bite." I added trying my best to flirt.

It seemed to work, he smiled at me as he sat down and I took the time to admire his handsome face. He was quite clearly a lot older than me, the laughter lines around his eyes a tell tale sign but he was still quite possibly the best looking man I'd ever laid eyes on. His hair was fair and the short beard framed his face perfectly but the one thing that stood out the most were those piercing ocean-blue eyes.

"So do you come here often?" I cocked my eyebrow at him over my coffee cup making him laugh at my reaction. "Sorry, it's been a while." He said nervously, running his hand through his hair.

"It's been a while since you spoke to a stranger or…?" I questioned casually.

"It's been a while since I spoke to an attractive woman." He finished, his eyes sparkling as he watched me almost choke on my drink.

"Oh, I err…. I don't think you're doing too badly." I absentmindedly circled my finger around the rim of my cup, crossing my leg over my other and accidently rubbing my foot up his leg. My cheeks felt hot and flushed as I looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling slyly.

"Evidently. We're already playing footsie under the table." He smiled widely, a genuine smile that stretched the corners of his mouth. I smiled back at him shyly, thinking of something to say to change the subject before I ended up looking like a tomato.

"What part of Australia are you from?"

"I'm originally from Melbourne but I lived in Byron Bay before I came to America." 

"Awesome. I've always wanted to go to Australia, the Spiders put me off though." 

"Yeah I think they put most people off but in heavily populated areas they stay pretty much hidden, I think it's the size that scare people." How have I made this conversation go from flirting to talking about spiders? And how do I get back to flirting?

"Are we still talking about spiders?" I raised my eyebrows questioningly and laughed at the innuendo, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I noticed something in his eyes when I did so, a hunger, just a little flash and then it was gone again. I'm sure I didn't imagine it though because his eyes lingered on my exposed shoulders.

I checked my watch subtly, not wanting him to think he was boring me but I had to get to class and couldn't be late again, not when this semester had only just started.

"I'm really sorry, I'm gonna have to run, I'm going to be late. It was really nice meeting you." I gathered up my bags, ready to leave.

"Already? You've only just got here." He looked disappointed, his smile fading. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something else and then closed again when he saw I was ready to leave. "It was really nice to meet you too, hopefully I'll see you again." His eyes sparkled as he looked into mine, standing from his chair to get the door for me. I felt fireworks when his hand brushed against the small of my back and his face lingered close to mine. The tension was unreal, like we were the only people in the room as his eyes hungrily stared into my soul, undressing me with his eyes. My heart stopped beating when his face moved closer to mine so I could feel his breath on my lips, the smell of coffee and his aftershave filling my nostrils. I paused, my feet routed to the spot, I wanted him to kiss me so badly but I moved away at the last minute. Surely he wasn't actually going to kiss me, we'd only just met, that would be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?

********

I spent most of class daydreaming about my tall handsome stranger and the way he looked at me but most of all how I didn't even get his name. Or his number.

Now I was feeling sorry for myself because it would just be my luck to meet the man of my dreams and then never see him again. So I'd moped about all day and avoided the invitations for drinks after class. Instead I'd

gotten home early, changed into some sweats and settled myself in front of the TV for the night.

"What's up with your face?" My roommate, Ellie said as she walked into our room, throwing her bags onto her bed.

"What're you talking about?" 

"Your face. Looks like you're chewing on a wasp."

"Feeling sorry for myself." I pout pathetically.

"Why, what've you done now?" She rolled her eyes, kicking off her shoes and throwing her legs up onto the bed. I felt so lucky to have a roommate like Ellie, during our freshman year she'd become my best friend practically straight away and now after two years together we were practically sisters.

I sat up in bed cross legged and faced Ellie, getting myself ready to spill my misfortunes of the day with her.

"Well, I went to Impresso's this morning to get my morning coffee before class." She nodded, showing her enthusiasm by also sitting cross legged on her own bed, facing me. "And it was packed full of students, there was only one table left. So I went to grab it as soon as I could." She raised her eyebrow at me, wondering where I was going with the story. "And I kid you not, the most attractive man I have ever seen, pulls out the chair opposite me." 

"Oh my god! No way. Did you talk? Oh my god, this is like the perfect chick flick. Carry on." I smiled at her excitement.

"I told him I didn't mind if he sat there, I mean of course I didn't mind, you should've seen him El. Oh, oh, oh I almost forgot" I flapped my hands, bouncing on the spot. "He was fucking Australian."

"Fuck off, you're lying. Drop dead gorgeous with the sexiest accent ever. How is this even real? Now remind me why you're sat there with a face like a slapped arse?" 

"I panicked when I had to leave, didn't want to be late for class and I didn't get his number, didn't even give him chance to ask for mine." 

"Wow! Ok, now I understand. What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't thinking, I was panicking and you know what I'm like when I panic." You sulk.

"It's ok, maybe you'll bump into him again."

"Yeah, right. I should be so lucky."

"Cheer up." she says throwing a cushion at me. "There's a party at Alpha Kappa this weekend, I'm sure we can find you someone to help get over your mystery man. Or under should I say?" She raised her eyebrow at me, smiling slyly and making me laugh. She always did know how to cheer me up and maybe a party is what I needed.

There must be some good looking boys around campus that could make me forget about my Australian hunk. Surely? I thought about the guys I'd seen around campus, the guys I'd seen at frat parties and that's definitely not what I wanted. How could a twenty year old boy match to the masculine, experienced man I met this morning. My mind was set, I'd dipped my feet ever slightly into the mature pool and that's what I wanted more than anything. There was always something missing with previous boyfriends and I was tired of all the game playing. I wanted someone who knew what they wanted and wasn't afraid to get it.

The only thing was, he didn't know I was only twenty and I had no way of finding him again. If fate did bring us back together, would he mind that I was still a student? That I couldn't even drink when we went on dates? 

Who am I kidding? Of course he would mind, he could get any woman he wanted, why would he want me?

[a-n-conrad]

Painting (Steve Rogers x Reader)

[Summary: You decide to paint your friend, Steve Rogers, realizing that no one had ever painted him without his uniform. However, things start to get heated after you start to daydream during your painting session. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT (18+, but with emotions), Not Canon Compliant (Because fuck you, Marvel.), Swearing, unprotected vaginal sex

Request: From my request survey (https://forms.gle/D9rsJtkERoBPaKvv8)]

You and Steve Rogers were widely considered to be an unlikely pair. There were a lot of things that you didn’t exactly agree on. Steve was a lot more social, being bold and outgoing. You were a bit quieter, preferring to avoid the company of a crowd. Steve was prone to waking up early to exercise. You stayed up into the quiet hours of the night, choosing instead to get a majority of your sleep in the morning. You weren’t exactly fond of Steve’s workout routines either, though you would join him on a short jog on occasion.

While you were technically considered an Avenger, you were really only brought out to fight for emergency circumstances. You had some incredibly powerful, incredibly volatile powers, but you really had no interest in using them unless it was completely needed. So you ended up making a few deals. You’d be treated like an Avenger, but you were basically benched unless some drastic, world-ending issue came up. So until then, you were kept on hold in Avengers Tower, spending most of your time painting in the studio that Tony had gotten set up for you.

Despite this power, and despite your title as an official Avenger, you were still a bit of an outsider among the team. You tended not to talk to them a lot, becoming a bit easily overwhelmed by the chaos that the team seemed to radiate. But surprisingly, you and Steve got along incredibly well.

You had originally bonded over your love of art. You loved Steve’s drawings. You admired the linework and shading in his drawings. He could do so much with just a pen, let alone if you gave him a few colors. He admired the amount of emotion you managed to instill into every single painting that you made. No matter what you painted, whether it was a portrait, a landscape, or something entirely different, it was always filled to the brim with the emotion that you had felt while painting it. It was like looking through a window into your soul. It was so honest and refreshing.

Eventually the two of you started to talk a bit more while you worked. It started pretty tame, just discussions of how your day was or general questions about each other like “What’s your favorite color”. But eventually you moved on to the harsher topics of your lives. Steve would talk about how exhausting it was to be the face of America, to be held on such a pedestal while also being expected to sacrifice everything at the drop of a hat. You talked about how cold and dehumanizing it felt to be seen by the American government as nothing more than a weapon, a walking nuclear bomb.

Your struggles overlapped at certain points. You both spent a lot of your time being used by the government. You were both seen as tools more than you were seen as people by a lot of the general public. You were a weapon and he was an idol, some sort of trophy. So you bonded a lot over your shared struggles as you talked to each other and worked on art side by side. And when the hard stuff got a bit too heavy, you’d sit and talk about art. About subjects that you just loved to add to all of your work. About what each shade of every color meant to you, about the emotions that you saw in every tiny color shift.

It was so nice, for both of you, to have something like that. The studio that you spent time in was so safe and peaceful for both of you, since the other Avengers tended to avoid it. And the two of you had started to see through each other’s masks enough to truly get to know each other. Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had known him as Steve Rogers more than they had known him as Captain America. He had Bucky, but Bucky was far too busy with his own issues for Steve to even consider burdening him with anything else. But with you he could truly be himself, even if that meant getting angry, sad, or frustrated.

So the two of you had become incredibly close, despite your differences. And every day that you had some free time without any big meeting or mission, you would be in the studio helping each other with art. It was a good way for you to relieve stress, just relaxing with each other. It was one of those days that you came to a realization.

- - - - -

“Has anyone ever painted you?” You asked suddenly one day as the two of you sat side by side in the art studio. He looked a bit surprised, and then he looked confused.

“Of course. There are murals of me up all over the place, (Y/n).”

“No, there are murals of Captain America,” you responded, shaking your head, “They don’t really look that much like you. You really only look like that when you’re working as Captain America. So has anyone ever painted you? As Steve Rogers?”

He looked surprised again. And you could tell as the emotions cycled through his face that he didn’t really know how to respond. You supposed it was a bit of an odd question. And you knew that it was a bit odd to think of someone and their superhero persona as two different people, but Steve couldn’t disagree. He wasn’t Captain America all the time, and he loved that you understood that, “I suppose I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess not.”

You hummed a bit, “That’s a shame. It feels like a waste that everyone paints a costume. You should let me paint you sometime.”

You said it in a way that he wasn’t sure if you were serious. Your face was entirely serious when you said it, but you said it so casually, not even really looking at him, “Really?”

You finally looked up at him, noticing the pure confusion on his face, “Of course. I mean, you’d have to sit still for a while, but honestly, you could probably just sit and sketch for a while. You just seem too good of a subject to not be painted without the costume.”

Steve wasn’t really one to blush, but it was quite the compliment coming from you. He had women trying to hit on him all the time now, being Captain America, but that never really felt heartfelt. It had been a fairly long time since he had actually felt a real connection with someone. But to hear you compliment him, thinking of him as Steve Rogers instead of Captain America, made his heart flutter a bit. And the fact that he knew that you were rather picky about the subject you painted only made it more effective.

“I, uh, think that’d be cool,” He responded as soon as he was sure that he could trust his voice not to crack, though he couldn’t hide the slight stutter. It was honestly endearing how much his personality changed when he wasn’t working. While he was still headstrong and stubborn, he was a bit less confident. He knew he could win a fight. He knew that he looked good on television. But he didn’t really know how to interact with people in the new modern age. He was lucky to have the friends that he did. At least, that’s how he felt about it.

“Wonderful,” You hummed, starting to put away all of your supplies, “Why don’t we pack it up for the day and I can start painting you tomorrow if we aren’t too busy?”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

- - - - -

The next day was surprisingly slow. You had to say that you were thankful. You had been looking forward to getting to paint Steve, even though you knew it was making him a little nervous. You were honestly excited to have a new project, and part of you was excited for the opportunity to stare at Steve for a bit without it being considered weird. He was easy to admire, both physically and on a personal level, so you found yourself staring more often than you’d like to admit. You were pretty sure that you had been lucky enough to avoid being caught though.

He was physically gorgeous. Obviously. But something about the way that he looked when he was drawing was nearly angelic. The way he furrowed his brows just a little and turned his paper at odd angles to make sure that the proportions of his sketches were right was adorable. The look in his eyes when his work started to come together made your heart melt. When he got a bit frustrated and would run a hand through his hair you could feel your heart skip a beat. You felt a bit dumb to be drooling over your friend, but you had to admit you were falling pretty hard for him. So you’d use this painting as an excuse to admire him without any questions.

He was already blushing a bit when he came into the studio, and you had a feeling that part of it was from Tony teasing him. He had a habit of giving the two of you a bit of a hard time about how much time you spent together. But the blush was still adorable. Something about Steve when he was nervous stole your heart. He was surprisingly soft when he had the space to be.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” He asked as he strode over to your work station that you had already gotten set up.

“Just pull a chair up in front of me. You can get comfortable, start sketching, and I’ll get a base outline and block out as much as I can. Just let me know if you need a break and try not to change your pose too much. At least until I can get all of the base shapes right,” You instructed, trying to keep your voice even. You were surprised at how well you managed to hide the fact that you were completely lovesick.

“Alright, sounds good,” He responded, pulling up a chair and getting himself situated. He crossed one of his legs over the other, resting his ankle on his other thigh to give himself a place to set his sketchbook. You tossed him his pencil once he got himself settled, and then you got to work.

You had to admit you had started to get a bit frustrated with how easily you managed to get distracted by him while you were trying to paint. You had hoped that maybe painting him would help. You had no reason to get distracted from your painting when you were painting him. At least, that’s what you had thought before you started sketching out the form.

You felt yourself losing focus as your brush moved smoothly, the incredibly thin, light paint building a form that you found yourself wanting to know a bit more intimately. You tried your best to stay focused on the canvas in front of you, but you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting. You imagined what his body looked like under his clothes as you blocked out the lights and shadows of the fabric that rested over his abs. And the vivid image in your brain, the detailed picture of his body that you had conjured up in front of you, followed your brush as you worked.

The brush slid smoothly across the canvas, outlining his muscles, almost all of which showed through his thin t-shirt. Your brain almost instantly conjured up a matching image, the fantasy becoming more and more dynamic as you went on. It shifted from regular images of what his abs looked like when he was shirtless to more detailed images. Thoughts of his biceps flexing a bit as he held himself over you, his arms covered in sweat. Thoughts of his hands sliding across your skin. It only got worse as you moved down, eventually reaching the point between his legs.

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” Steve’s voice finally broke you from your thoughts, his eyes which had been focused intently on his drawing when you had last looked were now trained on your face, scanning for any sign as to what was causing you to space out, “You don’t normally get distracted when you’re painting, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” You tried your best to pull yourself back to reality, though the fantasies seemed to be burned into your brain, “Yeah, sorry. I was, uh, spacing out a bit.”

“Do you want to take a break for a bit? Maybe we should get up and stretch,” He suggested. You nodded in response, hoping it would help you refocus on your painting.

It didn’t help much, though, as Steve stood, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt lifted up just enough to show some skin, and his pants were riding fairly low. Your eyes almost involuntarily moved to look at him, landing right about the button to the jeans that he was wearing. The muscles in his hips and stomach formed an almost perfect V shape leading into his pants.

“(Y/N)?” You had been caught staring. You tried your best to look casual, relaxing your posture. Your mistake was to try to lean on the table, setting your hand directing on your palette, which was covered in paints.

You froze, and Steve’s eyes landed on your hand, the red and blue paint gushing out from the sides. You felt like an awkward teenager, doing stupid ridiculous shit in front of your crush. You watched intently for a reaction from Steve, not really knowing what to do and hoping that the way that he reacted would give you something easy to respond to.

He raised one of his eyebrows at you, a look of confusion, with a small hint of amusement under the surface painted across his face, “You seem to have set your hand in your paint.”

“Uh, yes, it would seem so,” You responded awkwardly, finally lifting your hand out of the paint. You still really weren’t sure what to say, and not knowing where to put your hand so that you wouldn’t smear any paint anywhere wasn’t really making you feel any better. You cleared your throat a bit, trying to think of something smart to say, something that wouldn’t signal exactly how far gone you were into your fantasies, but instead you just signaled to Steve how flustered you were.

You knew that Steve had never been the biggest ladies’ man. From what he had told you, he was actually pretty awkward growing up, but the confidence that washed over him as he finally figured out what was getting you so flustered was visible. He walked closer to you, standing close enough to emphasize how tall he was, “Got something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh,” You stuttered, not sure what to say. You could tell that he knew from the smirk on his face, but you could feel your face heating up as you thought about explaining your fantasizing to Steve. He smirked even more as you got visibly flustered.

“It’s okay, honey, I don’t mind if you stare a little,” He said, standing a bit closer, his hand moving to hold your chin. You swallowed deeply as his fingers brushed against your skin softly. Your eyes locked with his as his hand tilted your chin up just a little.

As much as he was keeping up his confident, masculine persona, you could see the complete warmth in his eyes. He softened completely when you looked at him, pure admiration in your eyes. He had to admit it warmed his heart to see you looking at him like that, like he was your whole world. And maybe it was because he felt the same way. He had been falling in love with you slowly, and as he looked at you, he wanted to find every way possible to express it.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, his voice soft.

“Please.”

His lips were much softer than you thought they’d be, but you didn’t think about it too much as his lips moved against your own. It was soft at first, but it began to escalate quickly, getting rough and more passionate. His hands moved to your waist, pulling your body into his own, and your hands moved to his face, too focused on the kiss to notice the fact that you were smearing paint across his cheek.

He pulled back, allowing you to get a breath of air. That was when you noticed the red and blue streaks across his cheek, “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about,” He brushed it off, before pulling you into another kiss. He truly didn’t seem to care at all about the paint, choosing instead to focus on you.

This kiss started off much more passionate, building even further. Before long he pulled away again, pulling a groan from your mouth as you instinctively wanted more. Your complaints were silenced, though, as he began to kiss down your neck, nipping slighting at a few select spots, leaving marks for you to see later.

“If you want me to stop, just say it,” He said, as his hands started to move towards the hem of your shirt. He was moving slowly, giving you the chance to stop him at any point. You didn’t.

Before long, your clothes were entirely discarded, scattered haphazardly across the floor. Steve’s followed shortly. Neither of you could keep your hands to yourself, feeling the curves of each other's bodies as you continued to kiss. Both of you were desperate, the tension that neither of you even realized had been building finally crashing to the ground around you, any sort of restraint being thrown out the window.

However, you had to take a few moments to admire his body. You knew that it was perfect, he was a super soldier, of course it’s perfect, but you didn’t really know how perfect until it was right in front of you. There was no way you could’ve imagined it in a way that did it true justice. The warmth under his skin, the pace of his breathing, the firm feeling of his grip on your waist. Those were things that you could never have imagined fully.

He lifted you up without any issue, placing his hands under your thighs, carrying you to the work table and setting you on a clear section of the table without breaking the kiss. His hands slid across the tops of your thighs before grabbing your hips. Yours moved from his cheeks to rest on his bare chest, smearing a bit more paint across his scalped chest. You could feel his erection brush against your leg as he leaned over you, the two of you trying to get as close to each other as possible.

You were breathing heavily, your brain clouded with need, both new and left over from your earlier fantasies. Fantasies that were coming true, “Please, Steve.”

“What is it, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, looking down at you, his pupils blown wide with desire, “What do you want?”

You began to grind against his thigh without really thinking about it. He had to admit that something about you needing him this much turned him on, but he wanted to wait until you said it before he did anything, “Please fuck me.”

He would’ve liked to have a bit more foreplay, but both of you were so needy, having built up to this for so long with so little release until now. So he complied with your request. He pulled you quickly to the edge of the table. You were forced to lay your upper body down completely so that he could pull your hips to hang over the edge a bit. He took a few moments to rub himself against the entrance to your pussy, coating the head of his cock with liquid that was practically dripping from your pussy. Finally, he pushed himself into you slowly, making sure to monitor your reaction for any sort of discomfort. You were indulging in the feeling of him slowly stretching you out, completely enjoying the feeling of having him as close to you as possible.

He started moving after he was sure that you were comfortable, his hands beginning to wander your body, squeezing at your hips and breasts, basically any part of you that had a bit of squish, something for him to grab. His mouth latched on to the base of your neck, leaving a deep, dark hickey. You could feel every movement of his hips, his cock brushing against your internal walls again with each thrust.

You couldn’t hold back your moans as he found the perfect spot to hit, one of his hands gripping one of your hips tightly to hold you in place as his thrusts gained momentum. He started picking up speed a bit, taking care to continue to hit the spot that made you moan the loudest. His other hand slid down further, his fingers making their way between your folds. He was surprisingly quick to find your clit, not that you were complaining. Your eyes practically rolled back in your head as he started to rub small circles over it, keeping pace with his thrusts.

You were practically putty in his hands, falling apart as he found every way to make you moan. Touch, squeezing, kissing, and biting exactly where you needed him to. You had no idea how he knew exactly what you wanted, but you didn’t really care as a knot began to build in the pit of your stomach.

You practically screamed his name as the knot finally snapped, Steve continuing his motions, continuing to rub your clit, as you rode out your climax, your whole body feeling as though fireworks were shooting through your veins. Your walls tightened with the waves of your orgasms, the fluttering feeling clear to Steve as he continued to bury himself inside of you. Soon after your climax finished, you could feel his thrust begin to get a bit sloppy, focus clear on his face as he tried his best to hold on longer.

He couldn’t hold on that long, though, soon giving in to the building pleasure. He came hard, his hips snapping into your own and his head being buried in your neck to hide his curses as he came completely undone. You could feel the thick hot ropes of his cum coating your insides as he finished. You both stayed like that for a few moments in order to catch your breath.

As you started to come back to reality, you finally noticed the mess you had made. Steve’s hair was a mess, blue paint sticking some of the tips together. You couldn’t even remember when you had grabbed his hair, but the paint smears left a clear map of where your hand had wandered. The blue and red stripes across his face and chest were clear, too. In fact, you had gotten paint all over his sculpted body, the blue smears outlining his muscles.

“We should probably clean up and get back to work, huh?” He eventually sighed, his eyes never leaving your body.

“I suppose.”

(A/N: Thanks for reading! If you want to send me a tip for my writing feel free to tip me over venmo! My venmo is Al3x13l. Tips aren't required, but as a broke college student, they are appreciated.)

[eclipsedpascal]

Making Daddy Proud

Stepdad!Duncan x Female Reader

After moving in with your estranged mother and her new husband, Duncan Shepherd, you started to grow very close to your new stepdad. The two of you had a great relationship and he was doing his best to be a good father figure for you, knowing you missed your dad so much. But there was a problem, you found yourself insanely attracted to him and were starting to notice little things indicating he might feel the same way.

Warnings: very inappropriate relationships, Stepfather/stepdaughter relationship, Cheating is ofc implied, 20+ year age gap, daddy kink, unprotected sex (but I kinda imagined the reader to be on birth control so is okie😌) fingering (female receiving), choking, vaginal sex, oral (male receiving) and face fucking😃

Notes: Okie sooo I know some people will hate this fic and ofc I understand that, but if you do hate it then please don't send me any hate!! just don't read it🖤 anywayss I got dis ask saying "Concept: Stepdad Duncan x naive reader😉" nd omg i LOVE the whole concept of Stepdad!Duncan sm, like if you've been in the fandom for a while you'll probably know the fic "The Hand That Robs the Cradle" by Langdonsrapture nd that fic was my holy grail when it came out!! so you know I just had to go all out here nd get carried away writing it hehe:')

word count: 5.4k

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The opportunity to study political science at American University in Washington DC had been one you simply couldn’t pass up on, but unfortunately it meant moving away from your father to stay closer to campus grounds. You knew it was worth it in the long run, I mean you had been waiting on this chance for years and wanted to make your father proud, but you would miss him.

He was never home too much, always busy working, but he meant the world to you. It had been just the two of you for a long time now. Your mother had moved away once their divorce finalised 7 years ago, impulsively leaving you in his custody as she ran off and gallivanted around the world, meeting all sorts of interesting men she would tell you about.

Luckily for you, she had settled down with one of those interesting men in DC recently, and upon discovering your acceptance into the prestigious university she had offered you a place to stay whilst you studied.

It was a frightening move to make, but staying with your mother in DC had actually been pretty interesting. You hadn’t spent time with her in so long and it had been nice to catch up with her, I mean sure she had been a little distant, but that was expected with having not spent any real time with her in so long.

You were just grateful she had let you stay with her in the first place, thinking she would have probably preferred to be left alone with her new husband, Duncan Shepherd.

They had been married about four months when you moved in and from what you could see, things were going well; especially considering she had sprung the engagement on everyone pretty fast. You were just happy knowing she was happy.

Though you had only met the man in question once before moving in, he really seemed like a perfect partner. He didn’t have a single obvious flaw to him, but see that was the problem. He was completely flawless to you.

You had tried to find things you didn’t like about him, even just tiny things, thinking hating him would be far better than thinking of him the way had been, but no matter what you did, you just couldn’t seem to fault him. And the longer you stayed with them, the worse your little problem became.

You weren’t 100% sure of how old he was. You only knew he was in his early to mid forties. But being at least 20 years your senior, you knew he was definitely old enough to be fulfilling the role he was as your stepfather. It felt strange to have a new stepdad at the age of 20, (almost 21) but it was even stranger with you being so blindly attracted to him.

And it wasn’t even just his looks. Though, yes, they were quite the spectacle, it was more than that. He was confident and cocky, always knowing exactly what to do and say to make the people around him do whatever he wanted them to. He could make you laugh until your stomach was in cramps, and not just through telling dad jokes. Charisma rolled off of him in waves.

He was intuitive and crafty; smart to put in plainly. And his interests appeared to be more intellectually based than anything else, which was quite the opposite of your mother, so it baffled you as to how your mother had managed to snatch him up so easily in the first place.

Now it’s not that you were jealous, really. It was more that you didn’t understand how these two polar opposite personality’s had ended up colliding together in the manner that they had.

Whenever the three of you would sit and have an evening meal together, Duncan always made you feel welcomed in the conversation, which was a great comfort to both you and your mother, being the relationship you had was so strained. Because of this and the fact you both had quite a lot in common when it came to your interests, Duncan and you had become almost good friends in the small time that you had been living there.

It was obvious he was doing his best to be some kind of fatherly figure to you. knowing that you were missing your actual dad, he did his best to help you with the things he knew your dad usually would. Whether it was school work or just having someone to joke with from time to time. He was there.

Sometimes when he was there, though, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he felt something more too. Such as the moments where his stares would linger on your form for just a little too long, or the way he would sometimes fix your hair for you if it had strayed across your face the wrong way. Just small things he did that fatherly figures didn’t typically tend to do with their daughters; especially when his wife, your mother, was right there. Sure, she seemed oblivious to it, but you certainly weren’t.

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Taking your now lukewarm cup of coffee from the breakfast bar counter, you brought it to your lips and gulped the bitter liquid down, fighting viciously to stay alert. It was nearing 3am and you had been writing for hours. Concentrating was no longer your most favourable asset and your half lidded eyes were growing wearer by the minute, but you just had to finish this paper.

It was 17 percent of your grade and due in two weeks. A persuasive essay on propaganda within the current American political climate and you had been slowly working at it for weeks, but you knew if you left it hanging over your head any longer it would drive you insane.

Sitting back in the stool you resided on, you took quick solace in the many noises coming from the ajar kitchen window, listening to a low rumble of thunder, accompanied by the constant pitter patter of rain falling from the gloomy DC sky above. It had been hot and humid all week, eventually cultivating into large clouds that had now given in, spilling out showers for almost the entire day past.

You recalled all the time you’d spent by the pool with your mother and Duncan in the past week, enjoying the current heatwave by sunbathing next to it on one of the many loungers. The house was kind of set up like a hotel that way. With Duncan always needing to be prepared for any events he may have to hold for his company’s business associates or press, he had furnished the home with what was to the three of you, unnecessary seating and tableware; amongst other things.

You stirred, returning your eyes back to the last few lines you had written and attempted to go over them in your head, but quickly realised you couldn't even manage that without stumbling over them or jumbling the words up beyond comprehension.

Abruptly interrupting your confused stream of thought, was the kitchen door groaning open. So with a frown plastered to your face, you shot your head up to recognise the intruder. But your frown was quickly blown away at discovering that it was Duncan who had entered the balmy room, and he was in more glory than you had ever seen him.

You had seen his silhouette whilst he showered before. Having gone into his and your mother’s shared bedroom whilst searching for earrings, you had seen him through the whited out, frosted glass of the on-suit bathroom door. But this was something entirely different. This was him, stood in kitchen doorway with nothing on but his grey Calvin Klein boxers.

“Y/N? I didn’t know you were still up.” He quirked a brow at you, wondering why you were still sat in the kitchen so late at night. You swallowed deeply at the sight of him. Your eyes magnetised to his body, dilating with such a sultry image before them. Pulling your eyes back up to his face, you hoped he hadn’t seen their little detour down to his crotch.

“Uhm.. i’m, uh.. w-working on an essay.” Fuck! He’ll definitely know how nervous you are now. You looked away from him, too embarrassed to face him and cringing at your own attempt to speak. “It’s due in next week and I wanted to get it finished.” Okay that’s better, you thought. Maybe he’ll just think you’re just too tired to have a proper conversation or something.

“Oh, right,” he trailed off, looking you up and down a bit as he walked further into the room. You watched the back of his head as he opened the fringe, holding it open and scanning the contents of it. Deciding on a small bottle of water, he retrieved it from the middle shelf before closing the door and walking over to lean on the opposite side of the counter from you.

He didn’t seem too bothered by the fact he was practically undressed in front of you. Of course, you weren't complaining, but it was interesting. You tried to think of something else you could add to your open word document, wanting to distract yourself from his displayed body. But thinking as hard as you possibly could, your mind still brought you nothing.

You awkwardly pulled at the sleeve of your oversized ‘American University” sweater and hoisted it back up onto your shoulder. It had ridden down your arm whilst you were aggressively fiddling with your fingers - a nervous habit you had developed in your early teens. People would often point it out to you, but it was just one of those things you couldn’t stop doing.

There was a deafening silence stuffed between the two of you. So looking around the room, you tried to focus on anything in your line of vision that wasn’t him. It was just too hard seeing him like; his plump lips wrapped around the bottle’s mouth as he drank, his sleepy un-styled curls falling just above his perfectly manicured brows and wearing nothing but those fucking grey boxers. He was making it unbearably hard not to stare.

Deciding to speak, you cleared your throat. “So did you just wake up? Or could you not sleep?”

“Just couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the most random shit.. and you know how your mom is, she snores a lot.” He chuckled. His eyes never leaving you, beginning to feel as if they were boring holes into your soul as you kept full eye contact with him.

“Yeah, that must get pretty annoying.” You nodded slowly, thinking about how many nights you had spent wide awake when you were younger, all due to her roaring, loud snores passing through the paper thin walls of your childhood home.

“It does.” A smile played on his lips, taking another swig of water before speaking again. “so what’s the essay about?”

“It’s that one I was telling you about a few weeks ago, if you remember. it’s a persuasive on propaganda within the current American political climate.” You reminded him of the conversation you had about it when he dropped you off to class one morning not too long ago. The two of you often carpooled together, with the University campus being so close to his office, it made for an easy drive on the days he was needed in.

You guys would listen to playlists together on the drive and make fun of each others music taste, that was when you weren’t too busy being amazed by how similar they could be.

“Are you struggling with it? I mean, it is getting pretty late now.” He turned to check the clock which hung on the wall behind him, then looked back at you questioningly.

Duncan was good at helping you with this kind of thing. He was extremely well versed in politics, with his family’s background and all. Your mom had told you he used to be very involved with the white house, saying when he was younger he even went to prison for a short time before president underwood had pardoned him.

“I just can’t concentrate, but I really need to get it done or it’ll stress me out.” You lifted your bare feet up onto the stool seat, your knees coming up to your chest so you could rest your chin on them. You were only wearing panties with the sweater, it being too hot to wear anything more.

“Can I come over and check it?” He closed his bottle of water, tightening the lid with his muscular arms as he spoke. You had almost forgot he wasn’t wearing much before he said this, but watching him screw the bottle cap on as he asked to could come round to your side of the counter? It had you weak for him all over again.

“Uh.. yeah, course.” He padded his bare feet over the white, tiled flooring towards you, placing the bottle down on the counter and moving behind you to read the most recent paragraphs you had written. His hand was stretched over to the other side of you, resting on the edge of the breakfast bar as the skin of his arm grazed across your back.

Even with you being sat on such a tall stool, he still managed to tower over you. His hight was usually intimidating as it was, but with the added factor of him being almost completely undressed it was even worse. A small waft of air blew his expensive cologne towards you, creeping past your nostrils and possessing your senses completely before you started to feel his breathe on your upper neck. It wasn’t heavy, but it was enough to make your cunt start pulsating.

You were disgusted by yourself. He’s your mother’s husband! And your Stepdad! What the fuck was wrong with you? You could only imagine what people’s reactions would be if they knew of the truly sinful thoughts you had about him, and you hated yourself for it.

He was your type, yes. A rich, older man who wasn’t actually an asshole, and they were hard to come by, but that wasn’t relevant. You needed to control yourself. No matter how hard that may be.

“What you have so far is really good. Your argument is strong and as always with your work, it’s written well. You’re smart, Y/N. It’s impressive.” He humoured himself with a scoff, his voice interrupting your lewd thoughts.

You blushed at his compliment, hiding your face behind your knees slightly and looking up at him. “Thanks, Duncan.” You knew he was just trying to be a good dad figure to you, but you couldn’t help being attracted to the way he was so caring for you. Maybe it’s fucked up, but it’s not your fault all you need is an older man’s approval to become turned on.

“I mean it.” He looks so sincere as he talks to you. His face would be intimately close to yours if you hadn’t hidden it from him earlier. You notice his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second, and then back up to your eyes again. His stare no longer felt friendly, but more.. lustful. Were you crazy or was he really doing this?

Suddenly he looks away from you, moving his eyes back to the laptop’s screen. “Maybe you should just get some sleep. I know you said it’ll stress you out, but if you get some rest you’ll be able to get back into it tomorrow with better concentration.” He does his best to steer the conversation back to where is once was, reminding himself that you’re his fucking step daughter and that he has a beautiful wife sleeping just upstairs.

“I know that, its just..” You sighed, blinking up at him. You brought your legs back down you hang over the edge of the seat, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how close he was to you, wanting to do nothing more than to drape your arms behind his neck an-.

“Nope I won’t listen to it. From what I can see it’s an incredibly strong piece of work already, so just go get some sleep and come back to it in the morning, okay sweetheart?” He laughed a little, looking down at you again.

That nickname. Sweetheart. He called you it all the time and yet it always managed to take your breath away. But the thing is, he usually wasn’t this close to you when he did. So when you squeezed your legs together and bite down on your bottom lip, doing your best to ease the overwhelming desire you felt for him in that moment, there was no way he hadn’t seen it.

You were frozen staring at him, his face static and unreadable. You hoped he didn't choose to shout at you for how repulsive your behaviour was, or maybe he would kick you out? Your mind began spiralling, wrapping itself in intricate knots as you held your breath, awaiting a reply from him.

“Do you like that? When I call you sweetheart.” His voice was deep, sultry and dripping with desire. Shock coursed through you. That was definitely not what you had expected him to say. He seemed even larger now, his confidence making you feel small in comparison as your mind scrabbled to find the words you were supposed to use in your current predicament, but it never found any.

"You like it when daddy gives you nicknames?” He moved his hand up and delicately grasped the skin where your neck met your jaw, his eyes half lidded with lust. Your heart was beating so fast now and your breathing had grown shallow. You were so lost for words, only able to whimper out a weak “yes” before looking down to his boxers, trying to avoid his eyes but still wanting him just as much as he now appeared to want you.

He lifted your chin and kissed you roughly, drinking in your lips as if you were the water he had ventured down stairs for all along; and you began to wonder if you perhaps were. Maybe you were what he had been craving, just as you had been craving him.

He pulled the stool closer to him with his spare hand, leading you to wrap your legs around his torso as you tangled your tiny fingers through his sleep rustled hair. It was passionate. His kiss was sloppy, yet perfectly executed as his tongue slipped past your lips to glide over your own. His greying stubble dug into your skin, burning it with pure contact.

You parted to breath; and for just a moment, though it felt like hours, you stared into each others eyes with a ferociously neither of you could nor wanted to tame.

He tuts. “You really shouldn’t drink so much coffee little one, it’s not good for you. And it’s all I can taste.” He couldn’t help but reprimand you for the little habit, he had just gotten so used to doing it over the past three months, and using it to tease you sounded even more appealing.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were cut off when he lunged at you again, kissing you viciously. He began to move his hands all across your body, his fingertips grazing over every inch of you they possibly could as he started to undress you, pulling your oversized sweater above your head and taking handfuls of your breasts. He was kneading them, leaning down to kiss and suck on them whilst he watched you throw your head back, completely enthralled by him.

You were taken aback by how quick things had escalated, your sense of control had deteriorated far too rapidly and was ebbing away even further with each little kiss he left on your skin.

His large hand slid down to your panties, playing with the lacy bow that was centred on the waist band. He hovered his hand over your heat, cupping it and feeling just how sticky you had become for him. You let out a moan, all sense of wrong and right leaving you completely as you uttered a soft “Daddy” and ground your cunt into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right. So desperate for daddy.” He mused, ripping your thin underwear off and dropping it down onto the floor beneath you. Bringing his face to yours again, your noses bumped and leant on each other for some kind of purchase, the both of you watching his hand as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, gathering a fair amount of slick on them before pressing two inside you.

“Ahh!!” You let out a moan, it was louder than you expected and reminded you of what was really going on here. Having been too caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even thought about how being complete fucking naked with your step father between your legs would look if your mother had decided to come downstairs.

“Ah, ah, shh baby. We don’t wanna get now caught do we?” His breathe was hot on your lips, whispering as to not alert anyone. “So tight.”

You whispered back. “I’m sorry daddy, it was an accident- mmph!” You muffled your moan.

“That’s it. Who’s my good girl?” He lay a gentle peck on you lips, only stopping as to allow you to answer his question.

“I am daddy!! I’m your good girl!” You spoke with urgency, but did your best to keep the volume low, which was quite the struggle in between moans. Duncan could see this, so he pressed your lips together. Kissing you into a muffled silence.

You felt his spare hand on your neck, squeezing it just enough for you to still breathe okay when he pulled away from your mouth, moving his lips to the shell of your ear and biting the lobe. He murmured in your ear. “Do you know how hard it was, this week? Having to sit there next to your mom at the poolside and see you just lying there like that?! That fucking bikini. It took everything in me not to cum right there.”

His fingers were moving slowly, going in deep and curling up against your g spot, making you cry out and lean on his shoulder, biting it to keep yourself quiet. he started to rub your clit in hard circles. He was so experienced. It was mind-blowing.

“Would it have served you more pleasure to know, I only wore it for you?” It was true, you had only worn it for him and it had obviously worked. You certainly had his attention now. He growled at this, pulling his fingers out and slapping your cunt.

He yanked your neck closer to him, speaking down to you. “Just for that? Get on your fucking knees.” As soon as he let go of your throat you were climbing off the stool and onto the floor. The heat of the room, and of your acts too, made the marble tiling feel like ice pressed onto your flushed skin. But you didn't care.

You watched him pull his boxers down, cock springing free, adjacent to his stomach. Never having been with anyone of this size before, you had never seen a cock this big. You reached out and touched it, feeling just how hard he was. He hissed at the contact, looking down at you as you watched his facial expressions with wide eyes.

You played with it in your hand, stroking it with one and palming his balls with the other. He stroked his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring look as you licked the tip. The salty taste hit your tongue, making you crave his cock even more. So without another second going to waste, you took him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Ahh fuck!” You began bobbing your head, your eyes fixed on him as a groan left his lips. He was watching you intently, threading his fingers through your hair and onto your scalp to get a good grip on your head. You let your jaw go loose, knowing what he was about to do and preparing yourself for it.

He started thrusting his hips into your face, his cock hitting the back of your throat with almost every shove. You had honestly impressed yourself, I mean you knew you gave good head, but taking a cock this big as it fucked into your throat was something to be proud of.

“Mmm that’s it sweetheart.” Your stomach fluttered at his approval. The gagging noises you were making giving him even more pleasure. “You just wanna make daddy proud, don’t you princess?” You mumbled a wet “yes daddy” around his cock, sending sweet vibrations through it as he pushed himself as far as he could into your throat.

You couldn't even fathom how this was happening. You had pictured this moment late at night with a vibe pressed to your clit far too many times to count, so it finally happening was something hard to comprehend. Somehow he looked even more handsome from down on your knees than you had ever imagined he would. His stubble contouring his face perfectly with the ‘o’ his lips were forming.

Suddenly pulling you off of him, you gasped out for oxygen and tried to wipe away some of the saliva dribbling down your chin. It was like a snapshot from one of Duncan’s wet dreams. You looked so incredibly fucked out. He thought it was beautiful.

“Come on little one, stand up. Daddy wants to fuck that tight little pussy of yours.” You moaned as he talked down to you, stroking his calloused thumb over your bottom lip and pulling it down just to watch it bounce back up again.

You stood up, finally wrapping your arms around his shoulders like you had wanted to all this time. He pulled you in for a kiss, one much slower than the rest, communicating something more to you than just pure sexual carnality. His embrace was comforting, making you feel protected and small in his arms.

His hands grabbed at your ass as he picked you up, sitting you back down onto the bar stool and adjusting the hight while his lips stayed connected to yours. Once the seat was low enough for his liking, he picked up your thighs, shelving them onto his hips and laying you back just enough so that you could lean on the backrest.

The room was sweltering, your body hot against his and anticipating having him buried inside you was getting too much to handle. He dragged his cock through your lips, teasing your clit and moving back down to almost enter you, but he never would. Just wanting to get you all worked up and loving the way you would squirm when he did.

“Daddy.. please.” You steadied yourself by holding on to the sides of the seat, hoping he would end his tournament and fuck you already.

He slid the head barely into you. “Hmm… Since you were so polite, suppose daddy should reward you.” He spoke calmly before snarling and stuffing himself into you, pushing as deeply as he physically could. He felt your walls clamp around him as he set his pace. It was a lot. Having never taken a cock this big and the fact he didn’t even let you adjust, you couldn’t help but wail out.

He shot his hand up to cover your mouth, needing to keep you quiet and seeing you clearly couldn’t do it yourself. “Wouldn’t want to wake up mommy now, would you baby?” you attempted to utter a “No daddy”, but his hand kept your lips glued shut.

He fucked you. Like really really fucked you. He was making the stool shuffle underneath you, the powerfulness of his thrusts causing you to slide down in the seat. The only reason you didn’t slip off completely being the barbarian hold he had on your hips.

It actually surprised you how rough he was. A pleasant surprise, of course, but he had been so delicately caring towards you since becoming your step father and now here you were, receiving the best of both worlds.

The closer you grew to your high, the more incoherent your thoughts became. His eyebrows were scrunched together, lips trembling as he picked you up off the seat and held you closer to him. Supporting your ass, his hips ricocheted up and off yours as he tried desperately not to yell out.

His thumb was brought back down to your clit as he pressed you up against him, swiping at it hellishly, trying to hurry up your release upon feeling your legs begin to quiver; and knowing his own was approaching rapidly.

“That’s it sweetheart, come around daddy’s cock… Gonna cum so fucking deep inside your cunt. Would you like that?” You could see a thin line of perspiration cascading down his cheekbone, he was almost breathless and his thrusts were messier now.

“Yes da-AHH!“ you whipped a hand up to your face, holding your mouth shut as you came. You dug the hand you had placed on his shoulder deep into his skin and was quickly reminded of his marriage to your mother. You hoped you hadn't left any nail indents she might see.

You felt his hot seed spurt onto your walls as he rested his head on yours, mouth open wide and letting out a silent groan. His release was long and powerful. The both of you were left panting, the only noise in the room being your own breaths and a small creak from the stool when he softly set you down onto it.

He pulled out, your mixed juices gushing out of you along with the sexual haze you had been overcome with. The severity of what you had just done began to settle in. His head still resting on yours as you started freaking out, contemplating what would happen if your mother was to ever find out what had just occurred.

You wrapped your arms around his back, needing his comfort and squeezing him in an urgent hug, which he returned. his fingers stroked the sweaty skin of your back, trying to ease the thoughts he too had running through his mind. He lifted your chin up, the look he had in his eyes telling you everything would be okay.

Kissing you cautiously, he savoured the feeling of your lips on his and prayed he would get a chance to feel them again. “Are you okay?” He whispered

You didn’t really know if you were. On one hand, that was something you had wanted for a long time and it had been far better than you ever imagined, but on the other you had just helped your stepfather cheat on your mother. “I don’t know. I think so.”

He stood up, grabbing your sweater and panties, handing them to you before putting his boxers back on. “Well, at least that paper won’t seem like such big problem now.” He chuckled, doing his best to find humour in a humourless situation.

You giggled a little, hurrying to throw on your sweater and being reminded of how he had ruined your panties. “True. Now this can hang over my head instead.” You wiped any left over salvia you had on your face onto your sleeve and thought about how you would probably need to shower after this. “At least the sex was worth it, right?”

He sent you a dark smirk, picking up his bottle of water and walking towards the kitchen door. “It was. hopefully it'll be just as good next time too.” You opened your mouth, faking shock at his confidence as you watched him open the door.

“Goodnight Y/N” He gave you one last look as he sauntered through the door, getting ready to close it behind him and leave you alone in the kitchen with no one but your thoughts. The thoughts of your acts. Remembering all the little moments you had just shared together.

In that last moment before he left, you struck eye contact with him, chewing your inner lip and speaking.

“Goodnight, daddy.”

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Thank you sm for reading!🥺🖤

Tags: @dark-mei-rose @sojournmichael @ntxoza @blakescoven @ghostangels @jimmason @fernfiction @brattylovee @7-wonders @angelicmichael @melodylangdon @instincts-baby i'm so so sorry if you don't like this kinda fic or it has triggered you in anyway, but just let me know if it has and I won't tag you in this kind of thing ever again! You can also let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list too:)

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 28 - This Ain't No Hymn

Masterlist; Chapter 27

Summary: Time is running until Stalsk-12 and whatever awaits you there. You and Neil try to make the best out of what you have left.

Warnings: 18+ (implied and not so implied content); teasing; swearing.

Author's Notes: Gosh that was a long month... and I'm sorry it took ages. But it's here...! And it's over 14k for which I am terribly sorry. This one is my final stall before we kick off the action and I do hope you'll enjoy the absolute crackheadery of whatever goes on. Feedback greatly appreciated, as always!

During the final two days leading up to the battle, you did wonder how life can be at once so wonderful and yet terrifying. It was easy to get used to the new reality, letting Neil stay in your cabin for most of the time and only use his own for those brief periods when he would need a change of clothes. Or when you would be busy dealing with the assigned tasks, and he would get bored (as he proclaimed). Still, there was barely a time when you were not together.

Mornings were undeniably something else. As the remains of Morpheus’ spell wore off, you snuggled the duvet closer to your chest, relishing in the warmth provided by the blanket and the man sleeping beside you. One last heavy sigh before you opened your eyes, squinting in the bright light falling through the porthole. The sun rays aiming directly at your face, causing you to turn onto the side and face Neil. Despite the numerous mornings spent like this, the sight of him never got old. Your eyes slowly swept over his features. The relaxed brow, blonde hair falling over the forehead in complete disarray. Lips slightly parted, letting out quiet snores. You grinned, overwhelmed with love and gratitude. Because this was worth all the heartache and drama. Absolutely priceless.

Scooting a little bit closer, you felt his hand instinctively tighten over your waist. The hold, which has been placed the previous evening, not shifting throughout the whole night. Keeping you secured and warm. Just as if you were always supposed to end up like this. And perhaps you were. Gently, you reached out to brush your fingertips over his temple. Tentative touch making his breath even out, waking him in the process. Using the momentum, you swept the hair away from his eyes, ending the caress by running the pad of your thumb over his nose and mouth. If only because he was within your grasp.

Neil opened his eyes then, blinking twice to get used to the brightness. You watched as he took in the surroundings, consciousness needing few seconds longer to catch up. Once his eyes landed on you, his lips curled into a soft smile. Gaze immediately showing you nothing but affection. You mirrored his expression, letting yourself extend the staring. It was easy to waste the morning just doing that, gazing into each other’s eyes, getting used to the unbelievable luck. The comfortable silence stretched for a few minutes when Neil grinned and pulled you closer, hiding his head in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent with reverence. The happy giggle rose in your throat, tinting the words with breathlessness:

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” the nickname coming out of nowhere, yet fitting too well.

You could feel Neil’s smile widen. Cradling you close, he kissed your collarbone and slipped his hands underneath the shirt to caress the skin. It was always like this, slow and blissful, with every minute spent cuddling reminding you why loving him was something essential.

“I should be annoyed at you for waking me up,” the pretended sulking accentuated with a huff let out by Neil.

Still, his hold over your waist tightened. Another kiss laid on the collarbone, teeth lightly grazing over your skin. At this point, hickeys were just another thing that had to be accepted. With the military fashion aboard the icebreaker depending largely on pullovers and combat trousers, you did not need much to hide them. Now, feeling the sleepiness gradually make way for other emotions, you wound your arms around his middle, tangling more to prolong the contentment.

“What’s the but there?” dropping the cheeky question, you made sure to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Taking a moment to drag your fingers through his hair, arranging the eternal mess someway, a job you took on most days now. It was only a pleasure, making sure he looked presentable and yet still like his chaotic self.

“But… this way I can spend few more minutes like this” another blissful sigh, “And this is rather nice,” the adjective complemented with a final trail of kisses down your neck.

Using the loose cut of the t-shirt, Neil ended the study with a longer caress on your bare shoulder. Earning a gasp from you. And then, to sober up, you remarked:

“I love it when you become this incomprehensible in the mornings,” another tactical distraction in the form of tracing your fingertips down his forearm.

His cluelessness first thing after waking up was endearing. Despite always being rather dependent on touch and closeness, it was in those hours when he tended to seek comfort. As opposed to your evening need of hugs and cuddles, helping your anxious brain settle in for the night. It worked. Very much so.

“Very funny” Neil raised his head, joining you on the pillow, “You’re quite gorgeous, did you know that?” eyes showing you the unimaginable extent of infatuation.

You grinned, the charm never failing to get to you. In moments like this, it was easy to believe him. To accept the fact that he was in love with you. Exactly as you are.

“You might’ve mentioned it once or twice. I’m not convinced though” sensing the potential in this line of conversation, you made sure to put up the act.

It worked if judging by the way his eyes lit up with the familiar glimmer. As if that was the needed push for him. The wake-up call.

“I’ll convince you then,” a predatory smirk reminding you of the defeat.

There was no point in fighting him. With excitement fluttering in the pit of your stomach, you watched as he shifted to hover over you. Hands settling comfortably on your waist. One last wink before he leaned down, crashing his mouth into yours with hunger. Your hands ventured up his arms to enlace on the nape of his neck, offering leverage. To pull him down as you deepened the kiss. Easily letting his tongue brush against yours in the intimate moves. Every glide of his lips against yours resulting in flickering fire, electrical sparks trailing down your veins. Muffled sighs and gasps breaking the silence. It was never something effortlessly brushed off. Each kiss sharpening the need and affirming the convictions. Unforgettable.

You broke off the contact only once it felt like you both would suffocate if letting it continue. With a permanent grin, you watched as Neil flopped back on the pillow and took a greedy breath, hand taking yours instinctively and lacing up the fingers to extend the touch. After a few seconds of the recovery period, you decided to pick up on the playful strand once more. For good measure. Raising on the elbow, you glanced down at him with a cheeky smile:

“Do you always kiss that good?” you slowly dragged your tongue along your lips, saving up the remains of the taste.

With satisfaction, you observed as his eyes darted to your mouth, pupils darkening as though that was enough to entice him. The attraction never failing to surprise you in its intensity. Fate and related synonyms constantly on your mind. Because what else could it be?

“You tell me” following your mood, Neil smirked, never easily thrown off by the banter.

Shots fired and all that. Naturally. You broke into a laugh, half-collapsing against him. Only the arms wrapping around your waist keeping you secured. There was nothing left to do but let the giggles die down, listening to his steady heartbeat.

“My god…” words choked out with immeasurable happiness, “If it’s going to be a lifetime of talk like that, then I’m not sure I’ll survive it” admitting the eternal truth, you peeked up at him to see the reaction.

A widening grin and a hint of insecurity brewing underneath were a fascinating mix.

“Maybe you’ll get tired of me and my bullshit. And dump me for someone with the charisma of a cardboard box,”

It was the way he was so utterly wrong that made you let out a quiet laugh then. And also, the concern over his self-doubts that would need to be dealt with immediately. As the true bullshit must be treated.

“So… like Jasper?” the joke earning you a genuine burst of laughter from Neil and a tightening hold over your body “Wouldn’t count on it,” raising once again, you kissed him lightly on the lips and the tip of the nose.

As a reminder.

“Good. Because something tells me I’m a lost cause,” the sincere look causing another wave of love for him, “There’s no getting over someone like you, Miss” in response, Neil bopped your nose with his playfully.

There it is again. With curiosity peaked, you ignored the need to get lost in another kiss and chose to ask a question:

“What’s with the new nickname?” your interest betrayed only by the restless fingers trailing down his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in the shirt.

Not that you did mind. It was rather cute. And strange.

“I’m trying it out... to see how I feel about it” as usual, Neil caught your meaning with a pensive look.

For a moment, he seemed lost in thought, staring at you unseeingly. Beauty like this first thing in the morning should be made illegal. Your heart once again building up the fire that could only be extinguished by letting yourself have what you wanted. And that was rather simple.

“And?” trying to distract the intensifying thoughts, you took hold of his hand once again.

Carefully relaxing the fist, fingertips inspecting the web of veins and scars covering his palm. The long, slender fingers never failing to amaze you. A sudden reminder about the piano in his flat making everything worse. Because that would be quite a sight.

“I like it. Once we get married, I’ll amp up the game anyways,” Neil’s oblivious ramblings disrupting a detailed daydream concerning him and the piano keys.

Thankfully. It was only once you have brought yourself back to the present moment, the exact meaning of his words caught up.

“Once… not if?” that flicker of hope burning bright and steady.

It was in the way Neil studied you closely that you knew he understood. The smirk spread across his lips; eyes glimmered dangerously as he cupped your cheek:

“Why you got any other plans?” a suggestive glance at your mouth yet again.

No reason to deny it. You glanced at the phone to confirm your hopes. It was early. Enough so to spend a little bit longer in bed. Perfect.

“For now, yes,” meeting his gaze with a half-smile of your own.

Quickly untangling from the current position to provide yourself with more options. Not that he would mind how you would go about it. He never did.

“Care to share?” the want written clearly on his face, nothing but an invitation.

No verbal response needed as you straddled his lap and kissed him eagerly. Your hands followed, inching up his shirt and giving more places to study. The look full of curiosity and excitement in the blue eyes only providing more reasons to continue. More kisses. Hands exploring the familiar territory, waking up the desire, and raising the temperature. A quick fix for the addiction. Breathless moans and groans, breaking the silence of the morning hours. Gathering the courage to do what you wanted never felt this sweet.

***

Whenever Neil was busy with assigned work or training, you would wander the ship looking for something to do. A way to pass the time without triggering worrying thoughts or staring at the plans for the hundredth time. Two days were still left. And the objective was to survive them as peacefully as possible given the circumstances. You were owed as much.

That morning your feet carried you to the bridge. The quiet space offering a perfect place to settle down with the coffee and a blanket on your lap. With the panoramic windows giving an excellent view of the horizon, you could comfortably stare at the endless sky and sea. That close to the Siberian shores the only land visible were the occasional Russian islands, partially covered with snow or laid with grassy steppes. Otherwise, the emptiness could be easily overwhelming. Silence deafening. No soul nearby not belonging to your party of agents and soldiers willing to save the world from the bomb that could still go off. (Or did it already?) It was thoughts like those that caused most drama. Tiny brain worms rooting deep inside to come out at night and bother you with difficult questions and uncertainties. An ideal spark for anxiety.

Too lost in your head, you never heard the airlock open.

“Morning” you looked up, startled to see Kat take off the oxygen mask.

“Hi,” you grinned, suddenly relieved to have company.

She hesitated, eyeing your set up on the sofa and then the scene outside of the window.

“May I join?” upon your nod, she smiled and joined you on the settee, noticing wistfully, “The view from my porthole isn’t half this good”

You observed as she took in the scenery, large blue eyes full of wonder.

“This is quite something else…” you added, gaze coming back to the picturesque view.

The comfortable silence stretching out for a few minutes, when sudden thought prompted you to speak up:

“I never came to thank you for helping me back then-” the incoming apology stopped with a hand resting on your knee.

“Don’t mention it,” the reassuring smile shutting up the worries, “It was the least I could do” another pat on your knee before her grin turned wicked, “Where’s Neil?”

Caught. If it was not due to your accurate portrayal of the deer stuck in headlights, it was probably the blush that confirmed her thesis. There was no reason to pretend.

“He’s got shooting practice,” feigning nonchalance, you wondered aloud, “How do you…?” the question not needing finalization.

The look on Kat’s face nothing short of welcoming.

“I saw you on the deck during the Northern Lights,” the explanation tinting your cheeks darker “You were stood close, away from everyone else. And then you looked at him and kept on staring as though he was more beautiful than the Aurora to you” right…your breath hitched, the realization hitting with a needed kick, “I noticed you leave right after, hands holding tightly…” she trailed off, the knowing smile gracing her lips.

More beautiful than the aurora… yes, definitely. Finding words again, you chose to be honest. She saw you at your worst, offered a shoulder to lean on and a spark to light the flickering hope. To say that you were grateful was an understatement.

“We’ve managed to talk it out. Turns out he was just an idiot trying to save me while willing to ignore his feelings” thoughtlessly, a smile appeared on your face; joy uncontainable “You were right, he loves me,”

It still felt strange to say it. Even though it was true. The last time Neil told you as much was less than an hour ago. A parting affirmation as he was putting on the pullover and leaving your cabin. The new normal.

“As he should,” Kat grinned, optimism in her eyes exhilarating, “You both deserve happiness” you mirrored her smile, taking a sip from the abandoned coffee cup in a bliss-like daze, “From what I’ve seen the last few days… you’re giving him everything he was missing” the addition making your grin wider, the dangerous hope unstoppable.

Both of you went silent then, pondering on the view and what could be said. Silence comfortably stretching out and giving you a sense of companionship that you missed. While sharing thoughts and feelings with Neil was like second nature, sometimes you wished for somebody else to talk to. It was that necessity of being candid that prompted the confession:

“I like to believe that maybe now things will turn out alright somehow… but it’s difficult to keep it up with whatever awaits us at Stalsk,” the reminder settling with the anxiety cast all over your mind and heart.

The sombre turn of the conversation seemingly alright with Kat, for she eyed you closely before speaking up:

“Neil told me you’re going with him on the special unit” it was an observation.

But one that needed confirmation. The possibility to discuss it with her suddenly sounding like something you desperately wanted but never dared dream of.

“Yeah, I have to” a nod if only to reassure yourself, “Maybe it’s crazy, but I’ve got a feeling that I should be there. That it’s where I’m supposed to end up” words ringing out in the quiet space with defiance “And do whatever will be necessary to help him get out unscathed” the unsaid hanging over you, bestowing imperceptible shadow.

Kat looked at you thoughtfully; the quiet observation weighed with thousands of things that could be said. Finally, she ended the scrutiny and turned back to the horizon, breaking the silence with a comment:

“After everything I’ve seen, that’s far from crazy,” low chuckle permeating the space with a sense of faked lightness, “I’m more concerned about that part with whatever will be necessary…” the emphasis making your cheeks turn a darker shade.

Of course. She would understand what you meant. It is the only way. The belief in that one statement giving enough courage to defend your position:

“I know how it sounds. And perhaps its emotions talking… but he must survive” hiding the rising wave of emotions, you finished the lukewarm coffee, stubbornly staring at the edge of the navy sea covered with waves.

Anything but to face the attentive gaze. In the fear of losing the conviction. There was no time to falter now. Whatever would happen, you had to proceed with the plan. If not for yourself, then for Neil.

“Even if that means your sacrifice?” the question asked with a neutral tone.

The meaning simple. Taken by surprise, you looked up to meet the blue eyes staring at you inquisitively. There was no point in lying. It was another thing that you pondered on often. The question of what if. What if it comes to it and you’ll have to choose between your life and Neil’s? The answer was undeniable. Even if unspeakable.

“Yes,” a nod to assert it with all your might, “And I know he sees things the same… he told me that it’s why he’s doing it. To make sure the world won’t end taking me with it” you added, as though to validate your statement.

To show her that it was not only you who was that crazy. That perhaps what you have is something extraordinary. Worth more than anyone else can understand. Judging by the glimmer in Kat’s eyes, she knew what you were trying to say.

“I’ve only encountered love like that in fiction,” a hint of a melancholic smile on her face tugging at your heart with force.

Desperately searching for something else to say, you remembered everything Neil told you about her. Of why you were very much alike even if it did not seem so at first sight.

“You’re willing to go to similar lengths for your son. Max, right?” uncertain about the name, you hesitated.

She nodded, her expression turned serious, eyes showing the steely resilience you have seen before. A strong woman willing to do anything to save her son.

“Yes, I think… I’m not sure what’s going to happen on that bloody yacht but…” you watched as she searched for the right words, hands clenched tightly in her lap, “I’ll do what must be done to make sure Andrei doesn’t win this one” her tone turning cold, determination resounding through every syllable “He’s done enough harm,”

It was the flash of resignation passing through her gaze that caused another heartbreak. Suddenly you wished for nothing but a reckoning. Vengeance against this horrible man and the tortures he has inflicted upon Kat.

“I’m sorry,” words rolling off your tongue for the lack of anything better.

Instantly, you cursed your awkwardness, ready to come up with something different, when a hand placed on your forearm stopped the panicked stream of thoughts.

“Don’t be,” she squeezed your palm quickly before saying, “I hate it when people look at me with pity. The poor woman who married a monster. I want to be seen as a victor, not a victim,” the confession carrying with it a rising sense of strength.

Because she certainly was a victor. Someone to admire for the resistance and unyielding force of will. To be good and to put her son’s life before hers. That was something to aspire to. A quote from a few years back resonated through your head as you commented:

“Nevertheless, she persisted,” the mysterious smile spreading on your lips upon seeing Kat’s surprise.

And then she beamed. Gratefulness better than anything else you could ask for.

“Yes, exactly,” a nod, hope shining bright in her eyes, “Maybe this is my chance,”

Using the quiet moment, she stood up and wandered over to the panoramic window. The sun has begun to shine through the low clouds, adding a little more charm to the view. A tiny bit of optimism. Because maybe… With her back turned to you and the increasing sense of courage, you spoke up:

“You’ve already won. You’ve survived a wound like that… and you’re here, free from him. That for me is being victorious” finishing the sentence, you wavered.

When Kat turned back to face you with a smile full of gratitude and eyes shining with happy tears, you knew it was worth it.

***

The early afternoon before the very last night proceeding the battle was difficult. Left to your own devices, you have been idly sitting in the cabin, pondering on the various ways to stop the anxious thoughts. Even for a minute. But all the ways you could come up with either involved seeking out Neil, who has been hired to give the soldiers a quick physics-related pep talk, brushing up on their inverted combat skills and how to survive on the battlefield when the forces of gravity work against you. The other coping method you came up with had to do with spending hours in the shooting ground again. And there were hardly any bullets left for training, with stocks reserved strictly for operational use. Limits set by yourself as per order. Not omittable.

That is how you have found yourself setting up the hastily packed speaker (because why not?) in the small sparring ground in the training zone. You have changed into comfortable sweatpants and a tank top, deciding to use up the excess of energy in chilled solo sparring of sorts. It mostly consisted of finding proper bops and prancing around the space, trying out different kicks and punches Ives taught you. It was easy to get lost, feeling the rhythm, setting the pace, and choosing the right kind of moves to deal with the invisible opponents. A backfist here, roundhouse kick there. An attempt at a flying kick just because the guitar solo got you a little bit too entranced. That one ended with a groan, face flat on the mat. Thankfully there was no one to see.

You got lost in the movement, music drowning out everything else, until it was just you, your body in the fluid movements and the breaths punctuating the silence. Aiming a perfect backhander, you turned around only to freeze when your eyes landed on the intruder leaning on the plastic screen separating the spaces. Impeccable grin and a shrug answering your wide gaze. Blue eyes appreciatively sweeping across your body. Nothing new there for him. You stared back, heavy breaths catching up after minutes of intense practice. After what seemed like an eternity, Neil’s smile widened as he pushed himself up and crossed the distance.

Hands landing on your waist, without a second wasted, he pulled you closer, forcefully enough to draw out a startled yelp. That was rather unexpected. You barely had time to comprehend anything when he kissed you with hunger. On reflex, your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you opened your mouth to let him in. Teeth clanked when Neil reached out for more than you could offer, breath caught in your throat, unprepared for something like this. The need resonating through your tangled bodies as you let the stream of feelings take you under. Temperance forgotten as Neil tugged on your lower lip, bruising the skin and softening the damage with his tongue. You moaned, the sound getting lost in the haze of sudden frenzy. As though you were bound to die tomorrow, and this was the last chance to show each other the love you feel.

It was that thought that prompted you to break away. In search of oxygen mostly.

“Wow…” you gazed up at him, feigning nonchalance, “Thought we agreed on no PDA in the public spaces,” the stern glare breaking underneath the lovesick smile you could not hold back.

Because, after a kiss like that, how could you?

Neil shrugged, keeping his hands firmly on your waist, thumb gently stroking your side through the shirt. There was no remorse in those eyes, only fondness, and mischief. Whatever brought him here was bound to end in trouble. Perhaps that was the distraction you were seeking…

“It’s not my fault you’re stood here looking like this” another admiring look over your figure, finishing with a quirked smile and a pull to bring you closer once again.

It was difficult to deny him anything.

“Like what?” arching an eyebrow you searched his eyes for clues.

Up close, you could fully marvel at his long eyelashes and the exact colour of his eyes. The darker rim encircling the blue-grey depths, pulling you in and making you fall even harder. You always should have known that it was inevitable. There was no escape from eyes like those.

“Irresistible,” the word, falling from his lips in a pious whisper.

Inches left between your faces, gravity doing its work in bringing your nearer. Nothing left to do but breach the gap and kiss him, another way of thanking him for the compliment and getting the fix for the addiction. Now there was no need to hold back, after all.

“Huh…” you grinned, catching your breath once more, “How did you find me?” taking a step back to stop the temptation.

Because perhaps that was enough. The rest could continue in the privacy of your room. Whatever that might be.

“Intuition, mostly” Neil swept his gaze around the room, focusing on the speaker laying in the corner “And a little bit of luck since only you could be listening to ‘Big in Japan’ while training” his eyes narrowed, cheeky smirk dangling in the corner of his mouth.

Ah. The song choice coming back with a vengeance as you blushed for no reason.

“What’s wrong with Alphaville? That’s a banger,” the defence coming with an unnecessary but satisfying push aimed at the center of his chest.

Working perfectly, if the surprised gasp was anything to go by. He only needed a second to recover, the sparks in his eyes telling you that the response was bound to be quite something, and you better prepare.

“I’m not saying it’s not. Only that this is very much in character for the woman I’m honoured to call my girlfriend” a wink perfecting the delivery.

Yep, on point. Your face warmed up a notch, happiness almost incomprehensible.

“Ain’t you smug” masking the softness with sarcasm, you attempted a harsh glare.

However, all the intent crumbled the moment your speaker started playing the next song via shuffle. The soft piano, opening the ballad with a flourish. Nothing but corniness of the 90s and a love song to defy any other. As Bryan Adams started singing out the first lines in his husky tone, you groaned. Fuck you, Spotify.

“I didn’t take you to be this sentimental” Neil eyed you closely, mirth betrayed by the barely contained laughter.

Using the weapon you have been hoarding for too long, you aimed to school your features before noticing:

“Well… wise man once told me that we’ve all got our weaknesses…” the meaningful gaze doing the job as Neil grinned.

“Very wise, indeed,” the self-satisfied expression only deepening.

Before you could perceive his movements, he closed the distance, took your hand in his, and placed the other palm on your shoulder blade. Following instincts you did not even know you had, you hastily put your hand on his bicep in the ballroom dance position you have seen on tv. What the hell.

“What are you doing?” question coming out breathless as you stumbled to fall into the correct steps following his lead.

Lead to a slow waltz, of all things.

“Using the opportunity,” Neil adjusted the pace, letting you feel the rhythm before continuing, “Haven’t you ever dreamt of waltzing with the love of your life in a glitzy ballroom?”

It was the nonchalance that caught you. The way he said it without a stutter. As though he has used the words before, perhaps in the quiet of his mind or in a conversation.

“Maybe I have,” forcing the doubts to shut up you chose the noncommittal answer for the moment.

Letting your eyes speak instead as you met his steady gaze. A flash of a gentle smile and a thumb tenderly stroking your shoulder blade. Calming down and grounding within the moment.

“I know I did,” the affirmation added to the mix, complete with the kiss on your forehead.

'Look into your heart – you will find

There's nothin' there to hide

Take me as I am, take my life

I would give it all, I would sacrifice'

Bryan Adams kept on crooning as you moved slowly across the room. The relatable meaning of the words sung out making you hide your head in the crook of Neil’s neck, disrupting the formality of your position. Turning the waltz into a slow dance by making Neil pull you closer. He tightened his hold, fingers carefully stroking your skin, the contact keeping up the spark alive. A few more slides across space, your feet following his without hesitation. The synchronization perfect in the matched tempo. It was surprisingly easy to find the right rhythm; perhaps the chemistry did its work in that aspect too.

It was only once the song has reached the guitar solo part that you have managed to break the comfortable silence with a comment:

“This is… nice,” the adjective being the only one you could come up with.

All the other words disappearing one by one, dissolved in the wave of feelings. Happiness, most of all. And love you never imagined existing, let alone to experience. Neil chuckled lowly, his chin resting comfortably on the top of your head.

“Mhmm… Remember how we’ve first met?” the question catching you off guard.

Enough to miss one step and earn a little ‘tsk’ from him.

“Of course, why?” the audacity of the assumption frustrating.

As if. Because even now, you sometimes found yourself reminiscing on that day. The conversation, seemingly innocent, and yet have led you to this point. To everything you did not even know you were missing but now could not live without.

“Even then… when we were chatting over the coffee, I was intrigued,” the wistfulness in Neil’s voice causing long-forgotten questions to resurface.

You have never discussed that day in detail. But maybe that would be the chance. Gathering up the courage, you waited until you have completed the spin around the room to admit:

“Me too… I’ve always wondered… what was it when you’ve eyed me and said I’ll pass the training without issues? Just flirting?” curiosity creeping into your voice.

Not going unnoticed and acknowledged with a thoughtful hum. That was another thing you have thought of. Back then, his gaze only increased the interest. Now, knowing it was not only you that had many impressions after the meeting, it was harder to ignore.

“That was one of the few times when I broke my own rules of looking at people objectively” the explanation given with the needed depth “I always try to be respectable… to see everyone for their minds rather than their bodies” unasked, your heart let out a painful thump in awe over him “But with you, I- I guess my fascination got ahead of me” sudden shyness surprising, causing you to disrupt the dance by freezing in the spot “I was right, in the end” Neil met your questioning gaze with an apologetic expression.

That alone vouching for a kiss and a reassuring squeeze of a hand. You gladly accepted an invitation back into his embrace and another slow dance. Spotify proving itself useful with the next song choice – ‘Forever Young’. By Alphaville, again.

Neil’s snicker was met with a glare on your side and a light step on his foot, for good measure. It took you another few seconds to let the doubts speak up again:

“Was that really enough for you to see me? That one afternoon?” once the questions started, there was no end to them in your mind.

“Yes,” no hesitation on his side “Trust me, I was surprised too, but with every passing day I was thinking about you more. And now I know why” a nuzzle to the top of your head before he asked, “What about you?” inquisitiveness almost hidden by the neutral tone.

Might as well show your hand. Laying a small kiss on the side of his neck, you began:

“I’m not sure… I was curious about you” an understatement but always something, “You seemed so different and charming, like no one I’ve ever met before. And obviously, I had to acknowledge that you’re handsome as hell but… then I saw you flirt with Anna, and I thought that you’re one of those” the admission coming out with the resigned edge you did not fully intend.

It was quickly extinguished with a spectacular dip and a pirouette that managed to knock the breath out of your lungs and the thoughts out of your brain. Nothing but Neil left. As usual.

“I see… mind you, I was flirting with her only because I didn’t know how to talk to you yet” he carried on the conversation without a hitch.

Interesting.

“Did it matter?” you raised your head to be able to see his face for this one.

As though he was expecting scrutiny, Neil met your gaze with a steady look and a confident smile.

“Surprisingly, yes. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea,” the intensity of the eye contact increasing.

The song starting to fade out amidst its 80s glory, the last of the synthesizer giving out its swan song with the needed cringe. Your dance slowing down to a small two-step, prolonging the moment a little longer.

“Which would be?” another question, because why the hell not.

Using your momentum, Neil slipped his fingers underneath the strap of your tank top, grin widening once he realised the lack of bra. The familiar sparks, making you wonder about wherever this was bound to lead you. About what could happen. A vague idea formed in your head, needing only closure to the chat.

“That I’m not serious,” Neil’s response bringing you back to the moment.

All the movement stopping, leaving you standing in an embrace in the middle of the space.

“Are you?” just a final test.

Even though you did not need an answer, everything that happened within the last days proving time and time again that he was in it hundred percent. That finally you have found the one.

“Very much so, my love” stepping out of the hold, Neil tipped your chin.

The depth of adoration in his gaze only bringing out fierce blush and the deepening softness threatening to make you melt on the spot from too many feelings and too much happiness coursing through your veins. Enough. For now.

You grinned at Neil as a means of accepting his answer and took a definitive step away from him, noticing the curious look on his face. Ignoring it for the moment, you quickly searched through the library to pick up something a little more appropriate. And less cringe. As you pressed play on the right playlist and faced Neil again, the smile you saw told you he had ideas towards your next suggestion:

“Do you want to join me for a little sparring?” you approached him slowly, the unexpected nerves making an appearance, “We’ve never done that together, and maybe… you can say no of course but-” as you faltered, the plan seemed to make less and less sense every passing second.

Because perhaps there was a reason why he never suggested it. Or perhaps, it was not something he would want to do with you, his girlfriend, of all people. Maybe-

“I’d love to,” the answering smile reassuring enough to let you know that all your issues have been noticed, “Don’t pull your punches just because it’s me” Neil closed the gap and took your hand in his with a wink.

There was no way of stopping that grin from appearing on your face. Tightening the hold over his hand, you made sure to put on the most intimidating expression in your arsenal.

“You wish, sunshine,” a kiss on the cheek just because, followed by a wink to tip off his mirroring smile.

Let the games begin or something. You watched as Neil took off the pullover, leaving him in the t-shirt, and joined you on the mat. The final thought was that this sort of activity could end in many ways. Some of them rather intriguing. However, all distractions had to be left behind if you were to win this one. Which was easier said than done, as you eyed your opponent, coming up with the strategy. Because of those damned blue eyes and fascinating body proportions that were hard to ignore, no matter the circumstances.

With the final nod, it began. You crossed the space to aim a kick at Neil’s shin, using the element of surprise and height difference. As you hit the mark, he let out a surprised yelp and glared at you offendedly. A giggle escaped your throat as you made sure to put up the guard, expecting retaliation to follow. And it did. A lighter kick in your ankle, and then an attempt at punch towards your shoulder. That one, thankfully blocked, with your rendition of the shooting daggers.

The sparring followed this rhythm for a couple of minutes, drenching your shirt with sweat and increasing the adrenaline with every move. As it proved, Neil was an excellent partner for that too. Your dynamic working perfectly as you bounced off the different techniques and styles, learning from each other in progress. Soon it became a matter of prediction, of staring at him intently to determine the very next step and to block it efficiently. A few mistakes resulted in bruises here and there, but it was nothing compared to the elation flowing through your veins. The occasional compliments and teases interrupted the flow, bringing out more feelings than you ever deemed possible to exist. At once. Joy, excitement, fatigue, and desire slowly combining into the strangest mix inside your head.

Because one thing was certain – it was increasingly difficult to ignore the way it felt when Neil got close. His strong arms, usually acting as your refuge, now a barrier you had to get through to win this battle. The closeness intoxicating as you tried to wrestle out of his hold, imposed by using the moment of hesitation on your side. But then who was to blame you for getting lost in his eyes? Again. With his chest pressed against your back and the forearms blocking any form of movement, you decided to put it all on the card of fate, hooking your leg around his in an attempt at a backflip taught by Ives. That was another fatal mistake.

You only realised how badly you have fucked up when you opened your eyes to see Neil peering down at you with the most annoying of grins painted on his face. Eyes sparkling with satisfaction that certainly should not be there. Shit. He got you pinned to the mat with hands trapping you underneath him. Not much space between your bodies. A fierce blush bloomed on your cheeks; embarrassment combined with sudden arousal once the exact placement of your limbs sunk in. The earlier misstep resulted in having your legs wound tightly around his waist and crossed over the back. Just like-

“This position is rather… familiar” the husky whisper broke through the sudden onset of feelings and thoughts as you met his gaze.

The darkness of the irises and the boundless depths of desire you found there providing the missing piece in the puzzle. The heat turning up a notch. Unable to break the eye contact, you watched in fascination as Neil seemed to consume you on the spot. His pupils widened, betraying the feelings reigning free over his mind as he contemplated the very next move. Frozen, you could only wait helplessly, feeling the well-known tension rise, causing havoc in your head. Still, what he chose to do next, caught you off guard.

He leaned in and captured your lips in an eager kiss, easily stealing away the breath and distracting you from anything else in the whole world. As you opened your mouth for him without hesitation, Neil used the moment to strike. His tongue caressed yours in exact opposition to the way his hips jutted forward, creating friction. The surprising ploy, drawing out a gasp and making you break the kiss with a telling hiss. The answering mischievous smirk the only warning before he did it again, rocking his body forward against yours, upping up the temperature, and making the warmth pool in your lower stomach instantly. The wetness, collecting on your underwear and sticking to the skin in an impulse you could not control.

“Jesus, Neil- You can’t just-” frustration poured out in incoherent sentences as you fought for sanity.

He, naturally, took that as the cue to up his game. The deadly smile was the last thing you saw before he bowed down, tongue darting out to lick down your neck and then cover the space with kisses. A groan escaped through your lips as you grabbed onto his biceps in search of support. A logical part of the brain told you to stop the madness (and drag him to your room to continue), but that voice could be barely heard through the overwhelming haze. More kisses, teeth grazing over the skin, hands slipping underneath your top, and using the lack of bra to cause more drama.

The added touch onto your breasts was what defeated the sanity and caused you to roll your hips against his, matching up the tempo in the frantic attempts at getting something out of it.

“Fuck” heaving out the curse, you could not stop the moan caused by Neil sucking on your pulse point below the ear.

All the reasons against continuing something this good disappeared one by one. The synced-up movement, making you breathless within seconds. The arousal, seeping through the underwear, only increasing with the way you could feel Neil react to it as well. The telling signs of his lust rubbing off against your crotch upon every thrust. Getting ever harder to ignore with sounds breaking up the forgotten sparring soundtrack.

“That good?” Neil’s question dripping with need as he rasped out the words upon your hungry kiss stolen in the moment of eagerness.

No point in holding back now. Grasping onto his chin to stop him from distracting you with yet another trick, you made sure to show the extent of want raging in your veins:

“It would be without all the bloody clothes in the way” piecing the sentence, you huffed with dissatisfaction.

Because after something like this, you wanted him. No, needed him. Anything to finally release the tension and catch the high. Because, as you began to discover, it was too easy to get addicted to him. To the pleasure, he always seemed happy to give you. To being wanted and needed like never before.

Even now, Neil seemed entranced, eyes searching your face for something. Whatever he needed, you delivered with the want in the unguarded look, for he grinned and nudged your nose with his.

“I like seeing you this needy, darling” choosing no mercy whatsoever he stole yet another hungry kiss.

All the while keeping up the friction. As if you could ignore the feelings building up for a minute longer.

Using the opportunity, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and tugged at it with force. Drawing out blood and groans. A punishment. To strengthen the effect, you made sure to tangle your fingers in his hair, imposing light pressure. Enough to make him suffer a little more, but not as bad as to make him more predatory. That was another thing learned in the past days. You were right Neil had a hair thing. And using it right could work to your advantage. With satisfaction, you broke the kiss and watched as he opened his eyes, unfocused gaze and shallow breaths giving the needed bravery.

“Bastard,” you whispered and used his moment of hesitation to initiate the retaliation.

The answering smug smile giving more reasons to push on with the plan. With the full attention provided, you slowly licked your lips. A trick that always worked, making Neil stare with that same look of starvation hidden in his eyes. It was the confidence you were seeking to hook your leg around his and find the impetus to complete the switch in one smooth attempt.

It worked. You comfortably straddled his lap, pinning him to the floor. Only a shocked gasp told you he caught up with the change. You met his gaze smugly, using the new position to run your fingers up and down his chest, light teasing included in the act of vengeance. The answering groan more than gratifying, making you even happier to give him the taste of his own medicine and roll your hips forward.

“I like this new development,” Neil breathed out the comment, hands settling on your hips, “You know what, though? I’d love to see you snap one day. Get annoyed by my antics and punish me” it was the way he said it that made you freeze with one hand already underneath his shirt.

As though it was exactly what he wanted. Interesting…

“Is that what you’re into?” arching one eyebrow, you trailed your nails over the skin on his chest.

Watching the goosebumps with fascination. The light bruises on the sides reminding you of the morning the day prior and the sudden passion that resulted in marks all over your bodies.

“I’m into you, but yes,” Neil observed you with strange pensiveness, “Even a man like me needs to be dominated from time to time,” the challenge in his eyes already inspiring scenarios within your mind.

“That can be sorted then” you winked and used that moment to stand up, leaving him on the floor with mouth open wide.

Perfect. Grinning, you brushed off the dust from your clothes and strode over to the speaker, ignoring Neil pointedly. Only an exasperated sigh told you he managed to pick himself up. Using the towel, you wiped off the remains of sweat from your brow and turned back to him with a neutral expression:

“I’ll go shower,” you quickly eyed him, taking in the ruffled hair and flushed cheeks, “I’d ask you to join me… but I don’t want to traumatise anyone using the communal bathroom for that” a meaningful look making sure he understood.

The slight double-take all the needed confirmation. Neil swallowed hard, as though the suggestion was enough to make the images appear before his eyes. But then he flashed you a confident smile.

“Fret not once we’re back home, we’ll catch up on that. I’ve got that spacious shower for a reason,” a tiny shrug as though to make you remember.

Right. Another thing to add to the bucket list, no doubt. However, for now, you were not done with the taunting. He did deserve it.

“I see… do you often use it for those kinds of purposes?” draping the towel around your neck, you strolled towards him with an inquisitive look.

Another shrug. Hands reaching out to be placed on your waist and to draw you closer, keeping that one metre of space just for show. His eyes searched yours with feigned nonchalance before responding:

“Not really. But with you, I want to change that up a little. After all, I’ve got to convince you that having sex with you is wonderful,” followed with a nose nudge and a smirk.

For once, there was no shyness. Mirroring his moves, you put your hands on his sides, thumbs slowly stroking the hipbones, pulling him closer. Once your bodies were flush against each other, you grinned:

“Mutually” and then, upon noticing the well-known beat coming from the speaker, “One might even say you’ve brought the sexy back” a wink, using the lack of inhibitions in the air.

The answering gaping mouth and eyes widened in shock were good enough indicators that whatever this mood was, it should continue. After a second of confusion, Neil started laughing hysterically, collapsing against you with ease:

“… Jesus Christ,” he choked out the words, drawing you into a skewed hug if only to preserve the closeness.

The sudden outburst of happiness was not controllable even if you wanted. Giggling quietly, you waited for him to calm down, running your fingers up his back in a soothing manner. Once his laughs eased, you whispered:

“Sorry, blame that on JT” an apologetic shrug followed with a chaste kiss pressed to his temple.

The cheerful sparks in his eyes, telling all you could need to know. Thanks, universe.

“No, I love it” Neil’s words brought you back to the present moment as he took your hands in his “I love you,” the sincere confession breaking up the ridiculous atmosphere with tenderness.

“You better” your smile widened as you squeezed his hands in a non-verbal response.

It was only once you were heading out of the room, after at least three passionate kisses and some more infatuated gazing, that Neil chose to pick up the abandoned line of teasing.

“Make sure to think of me during your shower” you turned around, mouth open wide “For inspiration. I’ll be waiting” there was no mistaking the look in his eyes or the intentions behind it.

There was nothing left to do but walk out with cheeks burning red and head too empty to do anything but what he proposed.

For a good purpose, as the afternoon then showed you.

***

With the night falling on the last day before the fourteenth and the battle, you could feel the internal darkness creeping with every passing hour. By the early bedtime, there was nowhere to hide. Laying on the bed and waiting for Neil to come back from his shower, you could do nothing but stare at the ceiling blankly. Thousands of worries, questions, and scenarios multiplying in your head, threatening to steal away the remains of peace. It felt as though the curtain has fallen over your blissful days, leaving nothing but uncertainty. Because God knows what would happen at Stalsk. The plan was one thing, perfect execution - a different one.

With lungs failing to expand properly you considered getting up and marching outside to let the cold air give you something else to worry about. That is when the door to your cabin finally opened, and Neil walked in. A sight for sore eyes personified. Mindless of your struggles, he sent you a smile before placing the morning outfit on the chair. It became a ritual of sorts, with him bringing back the change of clothes to prolong the waking up period and stay in bed with you. Despite the anxiety rising exponentially, you could not help but smile at the tradition upheld on the eve of the battle. You watched in silence as he took off trousers and placed his phone on the bedside table. It was only once he sat down on the bed and faced you with fondness in his eyes that you knew the act of staring has been caught.

“Alright?” Neil reached out and tipped your chin to make sure you could not hide.

Gently his fingers caressed your jaw and down the neck, soothing the nerves and asserting his presence. You leaned into his touch and whispered the white lie:

“Yeah…” desperate to extend the bliss even a second longer, you joked lightly, “Was beginning to worry you’ve decided to ditch me tonight” shifting forward, you rested your forehead against his.

Closing your eyes and letting the feeling of being wanted envelope you in its sweet embrace.

“You wish,” the tint of joy in his voice adding on to the perfection of the moment, “There’s no getting rid of me that easily” Neil tucked the hair behind your ear, stroking your temple slowly in the process.

It felt almost unreal to have someone love you like that. So carefully, yet with a passion that did not seem to wane. The only thing left was to believe it. And let your feelings lead the way. You opened your eyes to find Neil staring back with the softest of smiles gracing his features. That was enough to whisper back the answer:

“What a shame,” and capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

Knowing the moves by heart, you have tangled your fingers in his hair and opened the mouth to deepen the kiss. It was always too simple, an act of devotion and a drug you could not imagine giving up. Each brush of his tongue against yours bringing sparks of electricity and pleasure, a promise of so much more only waiting to be taken.

Without breaking up the contact, you shifted to lie on top of Neil, stealing small pecks interrupted with smiles and sighs. Not knowing what bliss feels like, you assumed it must be like this. Because nothing seemed to come close to the feeling of being loved and wanted by him. To feeling the steady heartbeat as you pressed up against him in the closest of embraces. To having him grin against your mouth, interrupting the kisses with happy giggles, and stroking your back underneath the shirt in a simple act of tenderness.

It was once you felt his touch tread onto that well-known territory bridging the line between want and intimacy that you leaned back to meet his gaze. Slight confusion found in the blue eyes as you fell back onto your side and took his hand in yours:

“Can we… not do this tonight?” the tentative whisper broke the silence as your nerves spoke up again.

Because despite never having enough of Neil, tonight you wanted something innocent. Something easy. Asking for it felt almost wrong as if it could be too much. With the countless worries anchoring within your mind, you focused all your attention on studying his hand attentively. The thin scars scattered across the skin. Neatly trimmed fingernails and elegant fingers betraying the sensitive nature of the man you loved without any inhibitions. Neil as always noticed the sudden shyness, for he kissed you on the forehead before answering:

“Of course,” the affirmation given without a stutter, as he retracted his palm from underneath your clothes, “What do you need?” with the free hand cupping your cheek, he forced you to meet his gaze again.

Concern and affection. All the needed encouragement to speak your mind. To reach out for everything he wanted to give you.

“Hold me, please,” forcing out an uncertain smile, you wound your arms around his waist, snuggling in to find the perfect position.

But it was not enough.

“How do you want me?” the question asked with the glimmer in his eyes that told you he remembered the night from London.

Months ago, while also something that has not happened yet. Linearly, that is.

“Closer” this time, the answer could not have been simpler.

Neil accepted it with a hint of a smug smile as he pulled you close. Spreading his legs for yours to fit in-between. Hips flush against each other, heartbeat synced. Hands clinging to the warmth of your skin, his lips pressed against your temple. No inch of space left. Exactly as you needed.

With the brain strangely quiet, you breathed in his scent, letting the reality catch up. Yours. The soothing warmth of the embrace and solidity of his body underneath your fingertips making you feel safe. Even if only for the moment.

A short moment? Prompted by the harsh reminder of time running out mercilessly, you tensed and splayed your hand over his heart. A clear signal for Neil to tighten the hold and nuzzle your temple. Waiting for the words to come spilling out of your heart.

And they did.

“I- There’s so much goddamn noise in my head, and it’s beginning to drive me mad” after finishing the sentence breathlessly, you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

Smelling the bergamot and hints of your perfume, increasing the love held within your system. Following the instincts, Neil started running his fingertips up the curve of your spine, giving you something to focus on. The steadiness of the movement grounding you back in the present.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” the soft tone melting the edges of sharp blades penetrating your mind with anxiety, “I can’t stop the thoughts, but I’ll make sure you know I’m not going anywhere,” confirming the meaning, he took hold of your hand lying on his chest and laced the fingers.

Another way of showing support. Of letting you believe your luck. Nothing left but to press a kiss to his neck and whisper:

“Thank you… We’ll be alright, won’t we?” the question forcing itself on your tongue.

Because it was all that mattered. For you and Neil to survive. To have time to love each other. But… tomorrow is promised to no one. The counterarguments preparing to strike with force as they assembled at the bottom of your heart. You could die tomorrow. That was a fact, as true as the knowledge that the world could end. The bomb could go off. This could be the last moment of peace you would have. And there was no way of knowing whether it was. The fear creeping in with nothing to stop it.

“I hope so,” as though sensing the growing unease, Neil raised your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

You need not look at him to know what you would find in his beautiful eyes. It was the knowledge of feelings reciprocated that gave you the courage to speak the truth. To reassert what he already knew. Just because it could be the last time.

“Earlier today, after we’ve… I’ve realised that… I’ve never been more in love,” stumbling through the sentence, you whispered the confession against his skin, “And I don’t want it to end” a deep breath to gain back the momentum “I need you, Neil. You’re everything I have…” you faltered, feeling tears blur the edges of your vision.

As if your heart knew something you did not. As if being this vulnerable was the trigger you were seeking. There was much more you could tell him, but no words were found for it. Instead, you felt the embrace tighten as Neil kissed the tip of your ear tenderly.

“We’ll be alright, my love,” the endearment getting lost in the quietest of sniffles “I’ll make sure of it” he hesitated, the edge of your breakdown impacting him too with the emotions betrayed in every syllable, “And I don’t know if it needs saying, but… You’re my everything too. I’m not going to give up on us,” the definitive promise offering all the strength for you to raise your head.

Tears shining in your eyes as your gazes met. Worth fighting for.

***

The feeling of safety gave way to worries not longer than an hour after you finally gave in to sleep. Gasping, you opened your eyes in a flash after a particularly terrifying and confusing nightmare full of inverted rounds and ticking bombs. Blindly you rolled over to the side where you would usually find Neil, only for your hands to clutch at nothingness. Shit. The realization working better than any alarm clock as you sat up and turned on the lamp.

Empty room. Darkness outside. Neil’s phone left by the bed. Next to it a piece of paper torn out of a notebook:

“Couldn’t sleep. Find me on the bridge if you need me. Yours, N.”

The initial tugged on your heartstrings as you quickly made up your mind. It was only past one. And there was hardly any chance of going to sleep now. Without him by your side and with the brain haunted by terrifying dreams. You stood up and quickly got dressed in the hoodie he left the day before and joggers.

The moment you stepped outside the cabin corridor, the silence and cold hit you with their starkness. Usually, at this hour, the icebreaker would be alive with the sounds of the crew and troops getting ready for the night. There would be groups chatting in the mess or the galley. Soldiers catching late-night sparring sessions or betting on who would get more bullseye shots at the shooting range. Not tonight, though.

Without stumbling upon a single soul, you walked over to the bridge. Cold hands clutched together in the hoodie pocket. Untangling only to deal with the zip by the airlock.

Once you crossed the threshold, you knew you were in the right place. The silence finally interrupted with voices. Most importantly, with the sound of Neil explaining something in those soft tones that always brought you peace. The darkness of the room enlightened by the single fluorescent above the empty table. Kat was sat in the chair opposite him, focused on what he was saying. As you took off the oxygen mask with a quiet sigh, they both turned to you. Neil brightened up in a flash, a soft smile lightening up his face as he reached out for your hand. You sent Kat a shy nod as you let your boyfriend pull you down onto the sofa:

“Hello,” she grinned, giving you both a satisfied once-over.

The echo of the conversation you had the day before ringing out in the spaces between words. Nothing left but to relax into the pillows and give them both an apologetic shrug:

“Hi… Hope I’m not interrupting” you watched as they shared an amused look, followed by Kat getting up to make tea.

You knew instantly what this was. A moment of privacy.

“Never” Neil’s voice made you turn to him only to see the affection pouring out from his gaze.

Gently he took hold of your ice-cold hands and warmed them up between his palms with care. It was too easy to feel the love fill your chest again. As if switched back on whenever Neil was nearby. Somehow the darkness felt less frightening with him by your side. After a beat, you answered the unasked question:

“I woke up without you, and…” trailing off, you looked at Kat pouring water from the kettle into the mugs.

She seemed entirely focused on the task, mindless of your conversation. Using the encouragement, you moved closer to Neil and captured his lips in a quick kiss. He responded instantly, placing his hand on your cheek to draw you nearer and take whatever you wanted to give him. This time, because of company, the contact ended in a happy sigh a few seconds later as you pressed your forehead against his for a moment. Just enough to share a look of love and a shy grin. Hearing the unmistakable sound of teaspoon clanking in the mug, you leaned back, away from him yet keeping your hands locked in the space between you on the sofa.

“Sorry. I couldn’t fall asleep and didn’t want to wake you. So, I came here and stumbled upon Kat,” Neil explained, breaking the silence and acknowledging the other woman with a sympathetic nod.

Using that line as her cue to turn back to you, Kat handed you both warm mugs. Only a grateful grin could be given before you took a sip and let the tea melt the remains of ice that settled in your chest. With the comfortable silence setting in, you asked:

“Nerves?” giving the woman a quick once over, it was easy to determine that she too has been struggling with the night-time demons.

The shadows under her eyes, hands clutching tightly at the mug as if to find comfort in the warmth it provided. Making you appreciate the hand holding yours even more than you deemed possible.

“Yeah,” Kat swallowed hard, her gaze focusing on the darkness outside “Suppose it’s nothing for you, in a business like this but… I’ve never had to deal with a world-ending situation. Let alone have it depend on me. Partially” she finished the confession with eyebrows knitted together.

“In truth… neither did I” Neil leaned forward, the sombre look in his eyes settling on Kat, “Sure there were some missions of a bigger caliber than a few boxes of inverted artillery smuggled across Scotland… but nothing exactly like this” hiding grin caused by his answer, you took a longer sip of tea.

There was something incredibly true about him at this moment. Discussing the topics of deadly nature yet adding jokes and anecdotes to keep you all that one step away from despair. Tightening the hold over his hand, you added:

“The grand plan,” murmuring the words you once heard TP say, you reflected, “I bet my uni professors would never quite believe it if I told them that this is where international relations got me” feeling Neil’s gaze, you turned to look at him.

A crooked smile and hair falling into his eyes. Perfection.

“More like fate,” he countered, thumb running over your knuckles absentmindedly.

Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning too widely, you nodded:

“That too,” or I’d like to believe it is.

After a beat, you both faced Kat again, only to encounter her knowing smile, curling the lips with a sharp edge of steel. Then her expression softened as though realising the reality once again.

“Are you scared? Of having to do this… together?” it was the hesitancy that helped you understand the meaning.

You knew Neil caught up too, for her moved an inch closer. Shoulder to shoulder, knees touching. No unnecessary gaps. Together. Just when you thought of answering her question, Neil cleared his throat:

“A little… It’s like… on the one hand, I’m glad we’ll be on the same team, as then I can keep an eye on you” he gave you a little shoulder bump as if to accentuate the addressee, “But then I’ve always been warned about being emotionally compromised during missions. Trouble is I’ve been compromised like that for months, at least” an apologetic shrug to complete the sentence.

He was not even looking at you. Yet, it was too easy to understand what he meant. An excuse for the warmth to settle in your heart again. Months. More reasons to keep fighting for the future.

“Sorry,” returning the nudge, you frowned, “On my side, ever since you came up with this idiotic idea to deal with the lock, I knew I’d follow. Because there’s no way in hell, I’d let you do it alone. But, as you say, the element of emotional compromise is there. God knows I’m terrified of whatever might happen,” the ramblings only stopping because you have run out of breath, “It’s like… when you’re young, and you want to change the world. Sometimes you even begin to believe that it’s going to be your purpose. To be the hero and save the day. But most people grow out of that and never even get the chance” ending the observation, you noticed the two pairs of eyes focused on you.

Kat’s light blue gaze, staring wistfully, nothing but understanding and melancholy. As if whatever you said triggered something deep within the confines of her heart. As if she was grateful.

Neil looked as though he could not quite believe you existed. As though your words made him fall even harder. And then he shook himself awake again, clutching your hand tightly.

“But we do” he nodded lightly, offering support should you need it.

Letting you know that the fate of the world was not only on your shoulders. We. That pronoun again. In response, you could only give back the voice to those things that you still wanted to share with them:

“Yes, exactly. And the child that still occupies parts of my heart… she’s excited to be the hero. While grown-up me is just terrified of the stakes” staring at the dark horizon, you noticed quietly, “Never did I dream of saving the world from an inverted atomic bomb-”

“-Well, actually-” Neil interjected with his picture-perfect, MA in Physics tone, making you roll your eyes affectionately.

Idiot. You exchanged an exasperated grin with Kat before stopping him from starting up a lecture about the details of the Algorithm with a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Shut up, mister smarty-pants” your smile widened at the shocked look in his eyes before you lifted your hand and continued, “But at the same time it makes sense… sort of” faltering, you looked around the space looking for something else to say.

“I know what you mean. I never expected any of this to happen to me, but now that it did… I guess I should’ve seen it coming” Kat had your back, agreeing with your words with the same sense of apprehension in her voice.

It was easy to tell what she meant. The guilt entirely unnecessary yet unavoidable for someone this good. Your need of protest got cut short by Neil:

“Kat, don’t blame yourself for not knowing what Andrei is doing. None of that is your fault” upon her pained look he gave her a reassuring smile to confirm the sentiment.

“It’s easier said than done… but thank you” she offered him a weak attempt at a smile and then looked at you with sparks in her eyes, “You got yourself quite the catch there,” a tiny nod in the direction of the blonde man.

Indeed. Unable to stop the happiness rising in your chest, you countered her look with a smug grin of your own:

“I know” ignoring the blush spreading across Neil’s cheeks, you patted him on the head, “He’s incredible,” an appreciative look at your boyfriend and the free hand placed on his knee.

That woke him up.

“He? I’ve got a name, you know,” the feigned spitefulness making a giggle rise in your throat.

Neil glared at you, the act only betrayed by the very way the corner of his mouth curled up, disrupting the frown. Forcing a poker face, you chose to just go for it:

“Yes, and it sounds as though you were English pensioner spending days playing bingo on Malta,” the slight delivered perfectly.

Gratification instantaneous, with Kat laughing hysterically in the background as you observed Neil’s reaction. He froze mid inhale, eyes widened, showing nothing but confusion. And then his mouth opened to choke out:

“…what the-” before he could get to the expletive of choice, the sound of the zip lock interrupted him with abruptness.

Before either of you turned to check who the newcomer was, you met Neil’s bewildered gaze and shrugged. Squeezing his knee as addition and lifting your hand to make the position a little bit more neutral.

“I see it’s not just me who can’t sleep” Wheeler’s voice ringing out in the room made you turn to look at her.

Stood by the entrance, she gave you all an assessing look. Somehow her appearance felt right. Another grounding voice against the rising unease and panic. Someone to pull you back down from the anxious high horse.

“No rest for the wicked” Neil seemingly got over the previous paralysis, for he offered the woman his best rendition of a devilish smirk and threw his arm over the back of the sofa.

Hand landing perfectly by your shoulder. Simple intimacy.

“What’s on the agenda?” Wheeler strolled across the room to sit on the chair by the table.

Dark gaze nonchalantly slipping over the two of you on the sofa. She was never the one to comment on what she observed, but the way she looked at you was enough. The label was painted in the cheeky smile, hidden in the corner of her mouth. Lovebirds. Somehow you knew that at some point, you would be cornered and made to tell the story with necessary details. If only so that she would have digs in the arsenal of sarcasm at a ready. Ignoring the desire to run away, you answered the question:

“Mostly discussing how strange it all is. You know, us of all people, getting a chance to be the heroes” sensing the apprehension rise again, you added, “I feel like if they knew their fate is down to us… they’d be terrified,” a chill running up your spine.

Suddenly uncomfortable, you inched closer to Neil, using his raised arm to lean into his side and find solace. He understood the intent in a second and pulled you nearer, shooting you a quick concerned look. Questions were no doubt coming after.

“And I wouldn’t blame them,” Wheeler agreed with your grave statement with the usual pensiveness, “Normally I don’t get this jittery before missions… but this one feels more important” she stared at the horizon, lost in thought.

With the anxious thoughts waiting around the corner, you searched your head for anything to light up the mood. A stupid joke or a snide comment. But there was nothing.

“Like something could go wrong?” Kat interrupted your train of thought with the simple question.

Alarmed, you looked up to notice the two women exchange a tense look. It really could go wrong. The worst type of wrong.

Neil sensed the way you stiffened, for he pressed his lips to your temple and gave you a quick kiss. His hand tightened the hold over yours, increasing the feeling of being protected. Got you. As always.

You barely noticed when the airlock opened again. Or when another person walked into the room and took off the oxygen mask.

“What’s all this then?” Ives looked around with the eyebrow raised pointedly.

With the whirlwind of emotions, the only thing left to do was to plant your face in your palms, groaning loudly. What the fuck.

Feeling the questioning gazes of everybody else, you slowly raised your head and asked the soldier with blatant tone:

“Could you be any more British?” a mirrored arched eyebrow for the additional effect.

Maybe he was the distraction you needed. The final piece in the puzzle.

No bullshit taken as Ives grinned and gave you the showpiece bow borrowed from The Crown.

“Top of the morning to you, luv” straightening, he raised his hand to tip off the invisible top hat.

The snicker coming from Neil was the only response you ever needed as you rolled your eyes and hid your face in his chest. No point in pretending.

“Couldn’t sleep?” stroking your back slowly, Neil asked the question.

You appreciated how he accepted your sudden need to be comforted. With the careful touch running up your spine, gently scratching the skin, your thoughts slowed down to an acceptable white noise.

“Yeah. The bunk beds are fucking awful, and I’ve no one to cuddle me” it was the neutral way he said it that made you break out into a violent laugh.

The kind when it is increasingly harder to catch your breath, yet the lightness permeating the chest makes everything worth the aching diaphragm and tears running down the cheeks. You heard Kat follow suit, the light giggles bringing hope you wished to find in the darkness of the night.

“Sorry mate, I’m taken,” Neil shrugged, gesturing towards you.

From the comfortable position, you could make out the smirk on Ives’s face as he threw the remark:

“Traitor,” he sat down on one of the empty chairs and noticed, “Anna will be heartbroken, mind you” a passing glance at the two of you snuggled on the sofa.

At the reminder of the receptionist, you sighed heavily. Because yeah, sure, there was nothing to regret in the best turn your life could have taken. But spiteful looks and cold treatment from Anna were not on the list of things you wanted to keep on experiencing.

As if following your line of thoughts, Neil waved his hand dismissively:

“Oh, she’ll get over it,” you grinned at the hint of irritation in his voice, “Plus, it’s not like I’ve ever promised her anything… Not my fault this one came along and stole my heart,” placing his palm on your thigh, he gave you a loud smack on the forehead.

You raised your head in time to see Ives look as if he was close to getting sick on the floor. For once, you could not blame him.

“Dramatic much,” glaring at Neil, you bopped him on the nose with a poker face.

The only sign he noticed was the deepening state of perplexion visible in his blue eyes.

“Who’s Anna?” Kat’s innocent question was the one to throw you out of the strangest conversation and back into the present moment.

Exchanging a glance with Neil, who shrugged as though permitting you to share the tale, you began. Right where it started for you, with the flirting over the admission papers on that first afternoon. Omitting the more private details of your story, and with Neil’s help with the background, you have managed to entertain her with the account of all things Anna. By the end, Kat was looking at you both with eyes wide and cheeks wet from laughing.

It only got better with Ives and Wheeler contributing to the discussion with tales from the past and anecdotes of their missions long before you came into the picture.

When the silence finally fell again, it was less charged with tension. Sipping a second cup of tea, you rested your head over Neil’s chest, comfortably curled up and content.

“What do you want to do after this?” Wheeler asked the question after a beat with a smile on her face.

Nothing needed clarification. An attempt at making the morning seem less daunting. A spark of hope for after – the magical space where you desperately wished to find yourself already.

“Go to a pub and get pissed” Ives grinned from over the rim of his mug, devilish sparks lightening up his blue eyes.

Too tired to react, you chose to sigh heavily and catch Wheeler’s bemused glare as she scoffed:

“How typical” she rolled her eyes and smiled at you as though sharing a private joke.

Men.

“I was planning to invite you along, but now I’m not so sure” the solder cut back with a feigned sulk.

“I’d rather catch up on all those missed boxing classes,” the retort coming without a second missed, causing a giggle to rise in your throat.

Who knew team banter would be the cure for all ails?

That and the steady embrace, holding you close with hands resting on your knee and waist. Letting you know that no matter the future, he was there. All yours.

“Boring,” Ives murmured the response lowly, earning shooting daggers from his second in command.

You felt Neil chuckle as he rested his chin on the top of your head, observing the conversation silently. Your eyes fell upon Kat, a little separated from the idiotic narrative that overwhelmed the four of you. Suddenly feeling a wave of sympathy towards her, you asked:

“What about you, Kat?” as your eyes met, you sent her a small smile.

“I want to go home to Max and finally live my life without that fear of Andrei lurking in the shadows behind my back,” the candid answer whispered almost shyly, “Sorry, I’ve made it all dark-” she added, looking at the rest of you with panic.

Before you could jump in with reassurance, Ives spoke up:

“It’s alright,” he countered her embarrassed look with a stone-cold resilience, “I offer to shoot that fucker on sight if he somehow comes out of this alive” a shrug to complete the proposal.

The genuine grin on Kat’s face was unmissable.

“Appreciated” she nodded curtly as if to mask the initial reaction.

Before you could ponder on it for too long, Wheeler broke the silence again:

“Neil?” her gaze slipped over you once again, the smirk still hiding on her lips.

You felt him raise his head, tightening the hold over your waist as if it was necessary. And then…

“What I want to do is between me and my girlfriend,” the cheeky undertone making you blush instantly and slap him across the knee in an ill-fated attempt at chiding.

That spark of curiosity not easily diminished, however. You made a mental note to ask him as soon as you were alone what that meant. Because, admittedly, doing things with Neil was the height of your wishes too. And most of those were best kept private.

“Thank fuck”

Ives’s candid reply brought you back to the moment in time to hear Neil add:

“-But… I just want to go on holiday. Spend at least a week without stress and the weight of the whole world on my back. And maybe visit my parents… it’s been way too long” the melancholic tone did not get unnoticed despite the panic that crept up your spine.

Following the basic instincts, you lurched forward to be able to look at him. There was no mistaking that confident expression.

“Should I begin to worry? Because ‘meeting the parents’ sounds… official,” you whispered the word with apprehension.

Yes, that sort of thing was probably expected, given how serious he was. But still. The fear of making an idiot out of yourself in front of Neil’s family enough to trigger the anxiety once more. Somehow it sounded worse than dying in the Siberian shithole tomorrow.

With the tense silence that fell, you could almost hear the way the rest of those present were staring at the two of you with curiosity.

“We are official” Neil reached out to brush away the hair falling into your eyes, “We’ll talk about it later. After,” the soft smile administered perfectly, cutting through your worries in an instant.

Maybe you could survive it. Maybe.

“So… Y/N?” at the mention of your name, you looked up at Wheeler.

Right. Diplomatic, subdued answer it is.Somehow it got easier to find the words with Neil’s hand resting on your knee again.

“Holidays would be nice, certainly” stealing a glance at your boyfriend, you exchanged an excited grin, “And maybe some time to walk around London, appreciate life… I don’t know I think I miss the mundanity. Getting coffee on my way to the lecture; visiting random shops and browsing the shelves just because I could. No inverted bullets, no timey wimey bullshit” with the spite thrown in, you left out a long exhale.

That life seemed so far away now. Almost like something out of a dream, rather than your reality before Neil and Tenet. While you would never wish for anything but your current circumstances, sometimes you missed the normality. The lack of danger waiting upon every corner. No necessity to consider fatal sacrifice in the name of love. Normalcy.

“Think you two have travel agency visit booked,” Wheeler commented, looking between you and Neil with a knowing smile on her lips.

Using the most basic of gravitational pulls, you turned to face Neil with a hopeful look. With how close you were seating, only inches of space left between your faces. Despite the tiredness and insomnia, he was utterly stunning, taking your breath away within seconds. A part of your brain wanted nothing but to press your lips against his, mindless of the audience. As though using the same wavelength, Neil glanced at your mouth for a split second, causing a resurgence of butterflies in your stomach. They never seemed to get a rest anymore. Sharing one last long look, you nodded at the unasked question and awaited his response:

“Mhmm… I like the sound of that” another happy grin and a hand grasping yours tightly, “But now, I think we should try sleeping” stifling a yawn, he finished the tea and stood up to wash the mugs.

Using the slightly awkward silence, you jumped up from the sofa and sent the rest of the group a grateful grin:

“Thanks for this… whatever this was” shrugging lightly, you felt a wave of gratitude fill your chest with warmth.

Suddenly the morning felt a little less terrifying. Perhaps for once, you did belong. For once, you were not alone.

“Always up for chatting shit on the eve of the battle” with the bemused smirk on his face, Ives got up and gave you a quick pat on the back.

You only registered that Neil was back by your side when he placed his arm over your shoulder protectively:

“One could even say… that the real treasure is the friends we made along the way” it was the casual way he said it that made you look at him incredulously.

“Is that… Disney?” with your eyebrows knitted together, you tried to find remains of coherence.

Again: what the fuck.

“Maybe,” shrugging, Neil grinned at Ives as if nothing happened.

“Are you regretting your life choices?” the soldier ignored him and stared at you without a shadow of emotion discernible.

With the overwhelming tiredness and brain cells dying one by one, it was easy to choose.

“Maybe,” parroting Neil, you grabbed his hand “You, with me” without protest, you steered him towards the exit, “Think you need rest,”

Just before you could zip up the airlock after the two of you, Ives’ comment broke the silence:

“Take care of each other out there. I want to get an invitation to that wedding” he shot you a serious look, hiding the concern evident in the blue eyes.

Biting harshly on your lip to prevent the sudden need to run back in there and hug him, you raised your hand in mock salute:

“Yes, sir,” a final nod of understanding before you closed the door.

It would be alright. It had to.

[egcdeath]

strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note:  i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet,  after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.  

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.  

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.  

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: this is a multi-part fic for PLD!!! we all simped over him for a hot minute and i decided to capitalize on it because i mean......... look at him. so, enjoy a little enemies to lovers trope w/ one of my favorite frenchmen. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!! and thank you to @bandgirlsclub​ for all the help w/ my lil writers block. love u bb. she elevated my dialogue so much. if you don’t follow her, please go follow her now. and then enjoy chapter one!

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pierre didn’t like you because you didn’t like him and no one disliked Pierre Luc Dubois, especially in the city of Columbus. He was a legend. He was the star player, the future of the Blue Jackets. Everyone loved him, except you, so he hated you.

The feud started during his rookie season. He marched into the city of Columbus with his shoulders squared, his head held high, and his ego the size of Nationwide Arena itself. On his very first night out with your friend group, he’d gotten you kicked from a club after starting a fight and then poured his entire drink down your back as you waited for Ubers on the curb.

Out of frustration, you ended up foregoing the car to walk home, despite the protests that came from the other boys. And Pierre laughed as you walked away, amused by the liquid stain on the back of your favorite going out shirt.

No apology ever came, and that was a wrap on any potential friendship with him.

Three years later, nothing changed. Though these days, as Pierre’s comfort around you rebounded, he didn’t avoid you and instead made it his job to antagonize you whenever you were around. He made comments about your outfits, flirted with your friends that had clearly been told to steer clear of him, and fucked up your drink orders whenever he bought rounds for the group. Mostly, you took it in stride with a few choice curse words slung his way, but over time you started to antagonize him right back.

“Asshole at three o’clock.”

It took a moment, but your eyes followed the metaphorical clock of the bar and fell on the group of Blue Jackets pushing their way through the crowd. Leading the way was Pierre sporting a cocky smirk on his lips. He made his way around the group of girls, hugging each one before reaching you and ultimately opting not to say hello and just head for the bar. As soon as he stepped away you were making retching noises with your mouth.

“Back at it again, I see,” Josh Anderson spoke as he wrapped his arms over your shoulders. “You two would get along really well if only you tried.”

“I don’t want to try,” you responded. This earned the laughter of their other teammates, Seth and Boone, as they sat in the open seats at your bar top and joined the conversation that had been on hold for hugs hello.

When Pierre returned to the table, he was toting a tray of drinks. One by one, he placed each glass down with its rightful owner until the last two remained. And then he placed a Shirley Temple in front of you.

“It’s virgin.”

“Just like you,” you spat. While the table erupted in laughter, you stood to get a drink of your own. Preferably one that was heavy on the liquor.

---

Despite everything else, going out with him wasn’t all bad because after a while he just got distracted. He would slink away from the group and find himself surrounded by a bunch of local university students and you were free to enjoy your night without him chirping in your ear. While Pierre and Seth scouted the bar for hot single girls, you stayed back at the booth with your girlfriends, Josh, and Boone.

Drinks flowed as easily as the conversation, as usual, and up until about 11 p.m. there was nowhere else you’d’ve rather been. Until Charlie texted you.

“Uh oh, Chuck’s at it again.”

Josh was peaking over your shoulder.

“Would you stop being nosey?” you growled, angling your body away from him so he couldn’t read your texts—most of which were ‘u up’ texts. “And stop calling him Chuck. It makes it sound like I’m sleeping with a father of three.”

“You might as well be,” Boone said. He dodged the rolled-up napkin you sent his way with a chuckle.

The boys always liked to chirp you for your taste in guys, but Charlie was by far their favorite to make fun of because of the eight-year age gap you shared.

“Remember when YN would stay out past midnight?” Boone mused.

“Yeah, I do,” Josh sighed dreamily. “But then she got wifed up by a silver fox.”

“A silver fox?” you asked, trying your hardest to suppress the grin on your lips. “He has black hair.”

“That’s because he probably dyes it.”

More giggles fell from their mouths until you glared at them and their mouths snapped shut.

You met Charlie on a dating app and while things hadn’t progressed past that one night of dinner and drinks, you didn’t mind the casual sex that resulted from it. It was exactly what you needed at this point of your life—no strings attached.

I just called you a car. Should be there in 10 minutes.

You took the final swig of your drink and stood. The boys’ eyes followed your movement, knowing smiles on their lips.

“I’ll see you guys later this week, yeah?”

You said your goodbyes, ignoring the last-minute jabs the boys wanted to get in, and began to search the bar for Seth. You spotted him at a table across the bar with a gaggle of petite girls and Pierre by his side. The moment you looked over at them, Pierre caught your eye.

You started walking over as he checked the time on his watch. 11:45 p.m. You never left before midnight.

Seth opened his arms as you approached and you folded into them as you said your goodbyes. Something about the interaction had Pierre turning away to talk to the girls they’d met. It was the same pit in his stomach type of feeling he got whenever you were around, whenever you embraced the other boys with a quick peck on the cheek or laughed at one of their shitty jokes.

He heard you say your final goodbye to Seth and your shoulder brushed against his back unknowingly as you avoided saying goodbye to him. He almost let you go unbothered, but his need to talk to you just once more was overwhelming. At the very last second, he turned and caught your elbow.

“Who’s got you running off before midnight, Cinderella?”

“It’s funny you think you deserve an answer to that question,” you growled, pulling your arm out of his grasp in disgust. He leaned back against the table with a smile. Your eyes flickered to the girls behind him, one with a glare set on you as she sipped her drink. 

A lightbulb went off above your head.

You stepped forward, squeezing yourself between Pierre and Seth’s bodies to get a word in with the girls around the table. 

“Can I offer you all some free advice?” you asked, even though you were going to give it to them anyway. “This one,” you spoke, nodding to Pierre. You dropped your voice to a whisper and the girls inched forward to catch your words. “He’s been around the block, if you know what I mean. I’d make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Who knows the last time he’s gotten tested?”

You slipped out from between the boys, ignoring the curses that fell from Pierre’s lips as you walked away.

---

You left Charlie’s at 7 the next morning. Although you tried not to make a habit of sleeping at his apartment, there were some nights that you ignored the voice inside your head. You dressed yourself in the outfit from the night before and stepped into his bathroom to check your make-up and fix your hair before allowing the world to see you in all your one night stand glory.

Last night was one of the worst nights you’d spent with him. He was off from the moment you got in the door to the moment he fell asleep after finishing. You ended up completely unsatisfied and if you hadn’t been as tired as you were, you probably would’ve gone home to bring your own self to orgasm since he so clearly couldn’t.

As you shut his front door behind you, another door in the hall shut. You looked up to see which neighbor had entered the hallway and immediately felt your stomach drop.

“This? This is the place you ran off to last night?” Pierre was standing at the next door over. He looked astounded, eyes flickering between you and the door you’d just come out of. “You’re fucking my neighbor? Isn’t he like 40?”

“You live here?” you asked, eyes wide as you took in the sight of Pierre in front of you. His hair was still messy from sleep, but he was dressed in his Blue Jackets workout gear and on his way out the door.

“I moved in at the beginning of the season,” he answered. He stepped forward and you stepped backwards in response. “But you wouldn’t know that because you didn’t come to my housewarming party.”

You didn’t think he was serious when he extended the invite, and you were almost positive your response was along the lines of ‘I’d never step foot inside your house.’  

With a scoff, you turned and continued down the hall. He was hot on your heels the entire way to the elevator and slowed to a stop to wait beside you when you pressed the down button. You were surprised when he didn’t immediately start digging deeper about your night. He was more preoccupied with whatever was on his phone than you, thankfully, though you were certain once he had you in the enclosed space of the elevator he’d start prying.

When the doors of the elevator finally opened, Pierre stepped in and held his hand out to keep the doors open for you. You stayed put.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” you said stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. He let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the confined space with him.

The doors shut.

“You’re fucking dramatic.”

The elevator began its descent to the lobby and, all the while, you could feel him watching you.

“Can you stop?” you spat, shooting him a glare from the other corner of the elevator.

He studied you for a moment before asking, “Quiet in bed?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you quiet in bed?” he asked, slower this time, like you were too stupid to understand what he said before. You couldn’t find the words to answer, jaw ajar as your brain tried to catch up to his question. “I’m only asking because I’m pretty sure Charlie and I share a bedroom wall, and his place was completely silent last night.”

“You’re a pig.”

Pierre chuckled, satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten out of you, and continued talking, “Unless he can’t get you off.”

“Familiar with that problem, huh?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered.

“As far as you know,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear. The last place in the world you wanted to be was with Pierre in this elevator and you wanted him to know that.

“Not that you will ever get the chance to experience it yourself, but I know my way around the bedroom,” Pierre countered easily. Too easily. 

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m sure, what, with your body count in the hundreds probably. Statistically, you would have to have gotten at least 50% off.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know how many girls I have in my bed every week,” Pierre grinned, his ego oozing out of his every word.

“Not even a little bit,” you sighed. Your fingers came up to your temple as you tried to rub away the migraine that was beginning to take form. “Where you put your dick is of no concern to me, unless you decide to put it in a blender. Then, and only then, will I give a shit.”

“See, I think you care an awful lot more than you let on, princess,” Pierre said. Your face twisted in disgust at the pet name. “And I think that no matter how much you want to hate me, you really don’t. You’re just jealous that I’m not fucking you.”

That pushed you over the edge, the ounce of patience that you had left in your system had been blown to pieces with that comment. 

“Would you pull your head out of your ass for once in your life, Pierre?” you spat. “I wouldn’t let you touch me with a ten foot pole, much less your filthy dick. My sex life is none of your god damn business. Actually, scratch that, my life is none of your business. I only put up with you because we run in the same group of friends, so don’t try and get cute with me. If I had things my way I would never have even met you, much less learned your name.”

Pierre opened his mouth to speak, likely to try and counter everything you had just said with a dig, but you held your hand up to silence him. 

“We don’t have to like each other, Pierre, but you don’t have to be such a raging asshole about it. I thought at some point you might get tired of being a complete dick but your endurance is impressive, I’ll give you that. So listen to me carefully when I tell you I want nothing to do with you.”

The elevator stopped at the lobby and you made a beeline to the front door of the lobby to begin your walk home in silence. Beautiful, peaceful, Pierre-less silence.

---

The silence didn’t last long. 

You were halfway through your skin care routine when your phone rang, piercing through the otherwise quiet apartment. Across your home screen, your sister’s name flashed over a goofy photo from New Years.

“What do you want?” you asked after swiping to accept. Your sister’s face filled the screen with a fake offended look on it. You giggled. “Listen, Sadie, the only time I’ve heard from you since you moved back to school has been because you needed me to do something for you.”

“Okay, well,” she started. You raised your eyebrows at her in amusement. You knew this was coming. “It’s not really me who needs something.”

“Which one of your friends needs something then?”

“Mom,” she said with a laugh. Confusion flashed over your features, so she continued, “My friends are all going home next weekend and I decided I’d do the same because why would I want to be here without them, right?” You nodded as she rambled on. “But when I told Mom I wanted to come home, she told me that her and Dad are going to be out of town.”

“They’re going away?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t want me home alone.”

You laughed out loud. It was so typical of your mom to not trust Sadie to be home alone for a few days. She turned 21 months ago and yet she still wasn’t trusted by your parents. You couldn’t say you blamed them. Sadie wasn’t exactly the most responsible. 

“Stay at school then.”

“See, I was gonna do that,” she trailed off. “But she already bought me a plane ticket to see you.” Your jaw dropped, but you closed it at the sight of your sister’s apologetic face. “I’m really sorry, but on the brightside, I can finally party with you and all your boy toys! Especially the French one you hate so much,” she said his name in a French accent, “Pierre Luc Dubois, or whatever his sexy ass name is.”

And that was exactly what you were worried about.