#like look. that sucks. yes. but frankly i care more about not being ridiculed for thinking my anxiety is some kind of malicious act

[lecliss]

I hate that my birthday is in a week. Like, that feels so wrong. 25..... wtf......

[willowfics]

every guitar string scar on my hand

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie asks the reader to come to one of corroded coffin’s shows, then invites them to spend the night at his place.

a/n: hello, this is my first fic on this account and i’m very nervous and excited to be posting it as reader inserts and smut are both out of my usual wheelhouse, however i think this turned out alright and i hope you enjoy it!!

content: smut, afab!reader, gender-neutral language, sucking fingers, hand kink, ring kink, fingering, a bit of light choking.

Being friends with Eddie Munson was not an easy task.

Not because of his personality or anything. Sure, he could be loud, obnoxious, and frankly ridiculous at times, but those were all traits that drew you to him. No, the thing that made being his friend so hard was the fact that you were undoubtedly, horrendously attracted to him.

The big, brown eyes. The curly hair. Those tight, ripped jeans that hugged his body in a way that should be illegal. And his hands…His fingers were thick, and covered in rings, and sometimes when he touched you, the cool metal against your skin made something stir deep in the pit of your stomach. Something like desire.

You had only known Eddie for about a year, and he was one of the first people in Hawkins that you befriended, which didn’t do much for your social standing as the new kid. You didn’t care though. He always tried to include you in his D&D meetings, and you had begrudgingly agreed, only to find that it was actually pretty fun. And although he could be pretentious about his music taste, he often let you choose the music in his van.

On Friday, he approached you at your locker.

“I’m playing a show tonight, at The Hideout. You coming?” he asked, sparing no time on the pleasantries before getting to his point.

“Can’t. Homework,” you replied simply, digging in your backpack for your favorite pen. The one that wrote in smooth, black ink and never smudged. You just had it last period, where could it have gone?

Eddie leaned against the locker beside yours, giving you a pout. “It’s the weekend, come on! Your grades aren’t gonna suffer if you take one night off. If you come, you can spend the night so your parents don’t flip about curfew. Tell ‘em you’re with Robin.”

You looked up at him. “...I’ll think about it.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a grin. “Aw, I knew I’d win you over, sweetheart. Pick you up at seven?”

You rolled your eyes, giving his shoulder a shove. He easily caught your wrist in his hand, giving it a little squeeze before letting go, winking, and walking off.

You had already made up your mind. You were going to beg on bended knee for your parents to allow you out.

As the next few classes went by, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The causal way he leaned against the lockers, his childish pout at being told no, his gleaming smile. The way his hand had wrapped around your wrist, the light reflecting off his rings, how strong his grip was without even trying. It was making it absolutely impossible to concentrate.

At the end of the school day, you made your way to the parking lot where Eddie’s van was parked. He had started driving you home because your house was on his way, and he claimed that it would be impolite if he didn’t offer his services. You had obviously accepted, because any time spent with Eddie was time well spent. Plus, it was more convenient. You only told him the second part, though.

As you climbed into the passenger’s seat, the car smelled like weed and his woody cologne as usual. He gave you a grin as you buckled your seatbelt and immediately begun searching through his collection of tapes, already knowing exactly what you wanted to play: Judas Priest.

“So, are you comin’ tonight or what?” he asked, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I still have to ask my parents,” you replied, popping the tape in and listening as Rob Halford’s voice spilled through the speakers. “But if they say yes, I’ll come.”

“Yes!” Eddie exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.

You couldn’t help the fond quirk of your lips. “Both hands on the wheel, Munson.”

He obeyed. “You’re right, I can’t drive so recklessly with precious cargo,” he said.

You felt your cheeks heat at his comment, but refused to let your embarrassment show, turning to look out the window as if Hawkins was actually a scenic town and not a shithole. You could feel his gaze linger on you though, and fidgeted in your seat.

He pulled up in front of your house, and you grabbed your backpack and hopped out of the van, giving him a wave. “I’ll call you when I know if I can come.”

“See you at seven,” he replied, lingering outside until you were safely in the house.

After getting the okay for a “sleepover at Robin’s house” you immediately called Eddie and let him know, before digging through your clothes for something to wear. After settling on something comfortable and somewhat fitting for the punk atmosphere, you threw your toothbrush, some pajamas, and other necessities into a bag.

At seven on the dot, Eddie pulled up outside with his other band members in the back. He saved the passenger’s seat for you, though. What a gentleman.

“You look good,” was the first thing Eddie said

“Thanks,” you replied. ‘So do you,’ you didn’t say.

The drive to The Hideout was a quick one, and you bounced your leg nervously the whole time, half-listening to the banter between the guys in the back. When you all arrived, you tried to help them bring in their equipment and set up, but they refused your offers and told you to go inside. So, you did.

It was a small, seedy venue, and you hung close to the wall with your arms crossed, feeling slightly out of place, but not regretting your decision to attend. You were there to see Eddie, after all, and it would be worth it to support him.

Plus, his band didn’t suck, which was a bonus.

As Eddie and the guys filtered onto the stage, testing their amps and muttering amongst themselves, you slowly moved closer and closer to the stage until you were right in front.

Eddie caught your eye and grinned. You smiled back, giving him a wave.

The crowd was small, and yet the moment Eddie leaned into the mic, everyone’s attention was captured. Some of them were friends, some of them were strangers, but everyone was enthralled by Eddie’s energy as he addressed them, including you.

The first song was heavy, and had most of the crowd jumping, head-banging, and whooping during instrumental moments. You allowed your head to nod, your body to sway, but it was a subtle, calm movement that didn’t quite fit the music.

The whole show, you could feel yourself staring. You wondered if he noticed, or if your gaze blended with all the other eyes on him. You listened to his voice, the raspy quality to it as he sang. You watched the way his tongue poked between his lips in concentration as he played. Mostly, you watched his hands. The way his fingers played each chord, strummed out every riff. The way his rings were shining in the lights, you imagined what his hands on your skin would feel like…Those calloused fingers, rough palms, the way those rings would dig into your skin, the metal a shocking cold compared to his warm skin.

You thought about those hands wrapping around your throat, squeezing gently. Unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down your thighs with no patience. Slipping inside of you, that skull ring he wore bumping against your clit and sending shockwaves through you.

The sound of clapping interrupted your thoughts; the set had ended, and you applauded like everyone else, although your mind was still a million miles away.

“Thank you guys so much for coming out tonight,” Eddie said into the microphone, a smile spread across his face, showing his dimples. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

You gave a little cheer, and locked eyes with Eddie. His smile widened. Your heart fluttered.

As the band packed up their things and the audience trickled out, you stayed put, fidgeting on the spot as you not-so-patiently awaited them to be finished. Eddie packed up his guitar and hopped off of the small lip of the stage, coming towards you with open arms.

You giggled and opened your arms as well, pulling him in for a hug and ruffling his curls.

“You were amazing,” you said.

“Thanks,” Eddie replied, looking almost shy at the compliment. “You ready to go?”

You nodded, and off you went. He dropped off each member of the band, one by one, before heading in the direction of his trailer.

“Thank you for coming,” he said to fill the quiet, the radio’s volume not blasting for once.

“Of course,” you replied. “It was cool.”

He smiled, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, almost nervous. Those fucking hands, always distracting you. “It uh, it meant a lot. To me. You know, I, um…” he trailed off as the van crept down the side streets.

You had never seen Eddie Munson speechless before. As he pulled up in front of the trailer, he parked but didn’t shut off the engine yet. 

“I really fuckin’ like you, if it wasn’t already obvious,” he spit out after a moment, turning his body towards you. “Like, a lot. And like, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I can bring you home right now if you want, but like, I had to get it off my chest, or I—”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, feeling breathless, and leaned over the center console to press your lips against his. He let out a muffled sound of surprise before kissing you back, his hands coming to cup the sides of your face, his thumb tracing along your jaw.

You kissed until you were both breathless, pulling away only when the need to breathe became too strong.

“Inside?” Eddie panted.

You nodded fervently, grabbing your backpack and flinging open your door, and he turned the car off and got out as well, heading to the door of the trailer, waiting for you to catch up with him so he could hold it open.

“After you,” he said with a little bow.

You laughed, going inside and silently thanking the universe that Wade worked the night shift, giving you and Eddie some proper alone time. You immediately headed back to his room, kicking off your shoes and flopping back on his bed, grinning like mad as he followed suit, untying the laces to his boots and taking off his denim vest before crawling onto the bed beside you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said.

“Trust me, I know,” you replied.

He reached out to stroke your cheek, fingers delicately brushing your skin, and it made goosebumps spread over your body.

His hands were so perfect. His fingertips each had still-fresh marks from the strings of his guitar, but it wasn’t a new indentation. It was clearly much older, a now permanent sign of all the time he had spent practicing, plucking at those strings, teaching himself chords and humming potential songs for the band to play.

You weren’t sure what came over you at that moment, but before you could think rationally, you turned your head and took the tip of his thumb between your lips, meeting his eye as you did so.

Somehow, those wide eyes grew even wider as you did that, his breath catching. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Always thought you’d be a fuckin’ tease,” he said, voice low. “I was gonna be a gentleman, hold off ‘til the second date, but you started it, babe.”

With that, he pushed his thumb further into your mouth, cradling the side of your face. “So good for me,” he said, nearly a whisper. “I can put these things to better use, though.”

He dragged his nails down the side of your neck, making you shiver, a gasp pulled from your lips at the ticklish sensation. Slowly, he pulled his hand back, and you made sure to tease, giving the tip of his finger a little lick, smirking at the way his face had flushed.

“Tease,” he repeated his earlier accusation, before his right hand came to rest against your throat, gentle at first. “This okay? I’ll be gentle.”

You nodded, tilting your chin up to reveal more of your neck, a wordless invitation to do what he pleased.

The other hand had wandered lower, fiddling with the waist of your pants. You took the hint and quickly began to wriggle yourself out of them, and he did his best to help despite the awkward position. Once those were on the floor, he looked at you for approval once again.

“Please touch me,” you said.

“Gladly,” he replied, brushing his fingers along your pussy through your underwear, the garment doing little to dull the wave of pleasure that shot through you at the feeling. A small whimper left your lips. The hand on your throat remained gentle, but he pressed the tips of his fingers against the sides, not quite enough to restrict your breathing, just enough to make you squirm nervously.

He chuckled as he felt the damp fabric. “God, you’re already so fuckin’ wet. So hot for me.”

You moaned softly, bucking your hips to grind yourself against his touch.

“And so impatient, too,” he added. “You want me to put these inside you, huh?”

You nodded.

“I wanna hear you say it, baby.”

“Yes, please.”

“Please what?”

You let out a whine. “Please finger me. Wanna feel you inside…”

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, before tugging your underwear to the side and out of his way, brushing the tips of his fingers along your pussy, feeling the wetness, before he fingers clumsily searched for your clit for a moment before finding it, touching it almost feather-light.

A half-gasp, half-moan burst from your lips, and the hand that rested at your neck tightened the grip momentarily, before dragging down your body; in between your collarbones, between your breasts, down your belly. While one hand lazily rubbed circles on your clit, the other pushed a single finger into your hole, making you cry out.

“This good?” he asked.

“Fuck yes, don’t stop.”

“Alright, noted.”

You would have laughed if your brain wasn’t so frazzled. How was he so fucking good at this? It was like he already knew your body, as if he knew exactly what you wanted.

After a moment, he pushed a second finger in, making you groan, head tipping back against the mattress in ecstasy. He applied a bit more pressure to your clit, not enough to hurt but certainly enough to make your body spasm pleasantly.

He seemed amused by your reaction, plunging his fingers deeper inside of you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped.

“Feel good, baby?”

“So good,” you replied, reaching out one hand to grab hold of his shoulder, desperate for something to hold onto, to steady yourself. Otherwise, it felt as though you would float away.

“Can I add another finger, you think?”

You didn’t need to think about your answer. “Yes.”

And so, that was exactly what he did, carefully inserting a third finger inside of you, working his way deeper, clearly searching for a particular spot. The stretch of his fingers filled you nicely, and it only took a moment for him to find that spot, making your body writhe.

“You gonna come for me, angel?” he asked.

You nodded, a sob of pleasure ringing through his room.

“So fuckin’ hot, baby. All desperate for me…”

The stimulation to your clit and g-spot at the same time, plus his words, quickly pushed you over the edge, and you came, crying out his name.

Slowly, Eddie slipped his fingers out of you, and you watched as he brought his fingers to his own mouth, licking up the mess you had made. “You taste so good,” he said. “Next time, I’ll have to use my mouth.”

Next time? Oh, you were glad he wanted there to be a next time. “That sounds like a plan,” you said, voice wobbling.

“Was that good?” he asked. “Have fun?”

“Are you kidding?” you replied, propping yourself up on your elbows. “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

He grinned, clearly preening under the praise. “Good. I’d love to beat my own record sometime.”

“Sure, but maybe in the morning,” you said, smiling.

Then, the two of you went about normal, almost domestic nightly tasks. Brushing your teeth together, changing into pajamas. As you crawled under the covers beside him, Eddie started taking his rings off and placing them on his bedside table, but paused after removing the last one, like he was considering something.

Before you could ask what he was thinking about, he reached out and took your hand gently in his own, and slipped the ring onto your middle finger.

“Obviously it’s not a proposal or anything,” he said. “But since you seem to like ‘em so much, why not wear one to show that you’re mine?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied.

As the two of you drifted off to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel lucky. Being friends with Eddie had been hard, but only because you were afraid to risk that friendship with your stupid crush. How lucky you were to find out that actually being with Eddie wasn’t hard at all.

[quindolyn]

Hiiii i heard a headcannon that james potter would love shower sex and i was wondering wether you could write something like that? No specific’s do whatever you want with it just sex in the shower ;)

 You in Here? || James Potter

Word Count: 2268

A/N: I hate this perhaps more than anything I’ve ever written but I need to write if only to remind myself that I still can because sidofhdfwqifbr. I feel like I haven’t been productive in weeks and posting is gonna hopefully help me with that. I’ve hated other things I’ve posted as well and y’all seemed to react positively to those so who the hell knows.

Warnings: Degradation, daddy kink, kinda proof read, little bit of exhibitionism 

Masterlist

“Jamie,” You called out, your voice echoing as it bounced back off the tiled walls of the Quidditch showers. 

You hadn’t been able to grab James after the Quidditch game, where he’d led him and his team to victory, before he had headed off towards the locker room, being stopped by Dobson who was subbing in as keeper for the game. The team’s usual keeper in the hospital wing with a bad case of blood poisoning he’d contracted from an unfortunate Care of Magical Creatures lesson. 

You’d never really given much thought to the boy as he was a year below you and you didn’t much run in the same circles but neither of those facts seemed to discourage him as he pulled you aside after the game.

His desperate and frankly pathetic attempts to flirt with you, the team captain’s girlfriend, had stalled you too long apparently as by the time you’d managed to break free of his bad pickup lines and clumsy winks James was nowhere in sight and Sirius had to direct you towards the showers where he’d seen him disappear into. 

And now stumbling around the locker room looking for your boyfriend you followed the sound of running water to the back corner of the showers.

“There you are,” You murmured as his dripping form came into view. Blocked by a sheet of warped glass all you could make out of his figure was the outline of his strong physique as he twisted and turned to let the water wash over his ridiculously toned body.

“James?” Your voice lilted up in a question as you wrapped your knuckles against the glass of the door.

“(Y/N/N)? What are you doing in here?” He asked, his voice rough which you assumed was from screaming over the roaring wind to communicate with his teammates. 

What you hadn’t noticed before escaping James’ subordinate was the aforementioned boy lurking a few feet away, jaw clenched, the vein in his forehead pulsing as he glared down the boy who seemed to have abandoned all of his inhibitions.

Though you had missed him, James most certainly hadn’t missed you and heading off to the showers he’d hoped that a hot shower would soothe the possessiveness bubbling up in his stomach but it had not had the desired effect. 

“Came looking for you Jamesie,” You explained, “Wanted to congratulate you,” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of your lips, painted a brilliant red as you began shedding the numerous layers of clothing you’d been bundled up in to shield yourself from the biting wind.

“Why don’t you congratulate that Dobson kid?” The edge to James’ voice was impossible to miss.

You frowned as you reached around your now nearly bare torso, having made quick work of your top layers, to unclasp your bra, shrugging it off of your shoulders to let it fall to the ground. Left in only your panties you spared a glance over your shoulder before abandoning those as well and opening the door to the shower.

Even after all this time you still had to stop your jaw from dropping whenever you saw James’ body, the defined muscles of his abs, the way they shifted in his back as he reached for things and just went about with his daily business.

His legs. Those fucking legs.

And don’t even get you started on his arms because you could go on and on for hours about them, about every part of him quite frankly.

You stood dumbstruck outside the shower cubicle before James pulled you in by your arm before someone walked in and saw you naked. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” The boy growled, towering over you as he wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you tucked into his strong chest. You could feel his half hard cock pressing against your stomach as one hand drifted to your ass, squeezing it to the point of pain before releasing and smacking the afflicted area with the palm of his hand. The burning hot water didn’t help either with the pain as it washed over your backside, amplifying the sting from your boyfriend’s harsh touch.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You asked incredulously, having no clue what he was talking about. “That hurt.”

“Good,” He responded curtly, returning his tight hold on the supple flesh of your bottom, squeezing even more harshly than before, no doubt leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers. 

“S’ what you deserve after teasing me like that with that fucking prat, and then right now, standing naked in the middle of the locker room, anyone could’ve walked in at any point and seen your arse.”

“No one was gonna just-”

You were cut off by his fingers meeting the side of your face more harshly than you anticipated.

“Ow,” You squeaked, “Was that necessary?”

Growing more and more frustrated James pushed his index and middle finger past your slightly parted lips, shoving his long fingers further and further until the tips of his rough, calloused digits bumped the back of your throat and had you struggling to breathe as he triggered your gag reflex.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” He grumbled, catching your wrist with his hand before you were able to grab at the wrist of the hand gagging you, “First flirting with that little prick and now talking back to me, who the fuck do you think you are?”

Your response was garbled as you tried to speak around his fingers, but no matter what you were trying to say it was muffled even more as he pushed his fingers even further down your throat. 

A sick smile grazed his face as you gagged violently, tears slipping from your tear ducts and rolling down your face in twin rivers, collecting in pools at the curve of your jaw.

“Oh don’t cry baby,” He cooed mockingly, pulling his fingers from your mouth, allowing you to take deep gulps of air as he moved his hands to cup your jaw, his thumbs wiping away your tears.

One hand trailed from your face, down your torso, pausing at your tit to take the nipple between his fingers, pinching harshly and pulling a strangled gasp from your lips as the action sent pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain zipping up your spine. 

Eventually finding his way to your pussy James ran his index finger through your sopping folds, smiling cavalierly at the pool of slick he found there.

“Fucking pathetic,” He muttered, staring at his finger as it teased your cunt, “You got off on that?” He asked, lifting his visage to meet yours, “You got off on Daddy fucking choking you with his fingers?”

After a beat of held eye contact, you realized that it wasn’t a rhetorical question and that the man in front of you expected an answer. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

Satisfied with your response James’ gaze dropped back to your pussy where he was now lifting up your clitoral hood, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to his touch.

“What was that you said about congratulating me slut?” He asked, harshly pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger, smirking as you whimpered and brought your hand up to clasp his bicep, supporting yourself as you felt your knees weakening. 

The pleasure he could bring you from just his fingers was enough to have you in a puddle by his feet, clawing at his ankles and begging for more.

“Think as a reward I’d like to mark you up, show everyone how much of a desperate whore my baby is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes Daddy, wanna be your slut.”

“My whore,” He corrected.

“Your whore.”

At your agreement James latched his lips onto the side of your neck, sucking vicious hues of purple and blue into the delicate skin that resided there.

“Fuck,” You swore, tipping your head back so that he could have even better access to your skin.

A pathetic whine slipped from your trembling lips as James pulled away from your neck, instead attaching them to yours, delicately brushing his against your own. As you tried to lean forward, wanting to deepen the kiss you felt James’ hand bury itself in your damp hair, gripping tightly at the root, using his hold to keep your head in place as he pulled back.

“No swearing pretty girl,” He murmured as his lips brushed yours ever so lightly against yours, “Pretty babies don’t swear, yeah?” 

He peppered kisses across your lips as you nodded your agreement, tickling your skin before finally deepening the kiss as you so desperately wanted. You savored the taste of his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, exploring the warm expanse before mingling his tongue with yours. 

You were no match for his aggression as he dominated your tongue pulling a moan from the depths of your belly where you felt a know tightening as the slick between your legs continued to collect in a pool of your own arousal.

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” James promised, crouching to loop his arms underneath your thighs, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist, and moving to support your bum as he backed you into the wall, using that to help support your weight. 

“Gonna show you how good I can make you feel when you’re mine.”

“Please Daddy,” You begged, pleading eyes looking up at him as you pushed your bottom lip out in a pathetic display of your submission, “Want your cock please.”

It was funny really, how quickly you went from feisty to his submissive slut. And you didn’t even have his cock yet.

Your begging spurring James on, he didn’t bother restraining himself any longer and instead pushed his cock into your warm, pulsing pussy.

A cry tore its way through your throat as he didn’t even bother to ease his way in, not wanting to wait another second, just wanting to be inside of you.

“Shh,” He hissed, clasping a strong hand over your mouth, hanging wide open as you barely had control over yourself to keep your eyes open, much less make the conscious effort to keep your mouth closed in order to keep in the moans and whimpers that shamelessly tumbled from your agape mouth.

James’ pace was relentless as he thrusted in and out of you, watching as his cock appeared then disappeared as he moved in and out of your cunt, your pussy squeezing him to an almost painful degree.

“So fucking pretty,” He swore, palming your tits with his strong hands, leaving your nipples hard as he pinched them again, just as he did earlier, watching the look on your face as he twisted them to the point of pain. 

You snapped your mouth shut so that you wouldn’t let out a curse, not wanting to disobey Jamie. 

“Mine, all mine,” Jamie grumbled as he let go of your boobs, preferring to watch them bounce as he sped up his thrusts, the spongy tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot, pulling a strangled sigh from you as you lost more and more of yourself in pleasure.

“All yours Daddy,” You agreed, leaning your head up against the cold tile of the shower wall as you focused on the pleasure James was bringing you with every deep thrust. 

“That’s right slut,” James said, remembering his earlier frustration, “If s’all mine, all f’me then what the hell are you doing talking to that little dick?”

His hard gaze met yours and though they were swimming with lust it did nothing to dilute the seriousness they held, making it clear to you that he expected an answer.

“Didn’t mean to Daddy, didn’t mean to be naughty,” You explained, hoping that he would realize that you really had had no mal intent in speaking with the boy, you just hadn’t wanted to be rude.

Seemingly paying your response no mind James attached his lips to your collar bone, laving his tongue over it before retracing his steps and sucking marks that matched the ones he’d previously left on your neck. 

As he worked to paint your skin in rich hues he lifted your hips so that he could reach even further depths inside of you, sheathing himself completely inside of you before pulling back out, all while moving his fingers to your clit, where they had once previously resided. 

The combined stimulation of him so deep inside of you and his strong fingers on your clit had the knot in your belly tightening as the stimulation on your clit sent tendrils of pleasure shooting up your back.

It was all too much, the overwhelming stimulation from his cock combined with his fingers pinching and rolling your sensitive bundle of nerves between the pads of his fingers, and the steady streams of scalding water warming your skin almost had you forgetting to ask to cum as you felt the pleasure boiling up in the depths of your tummy. 

“D-Daddy may I-”

You were cut off by the sound of the locker room door slamming open quickly followed by the rumbling of voices.

“Potter!” One of them called out, “You in here?”

Recognizing the voice as that belonging to none other than the very boy who had landed you in your small predicament you studied James’ face, with wide piteous eyes as the sound of footsteps slapping against the tile floor approached your little enclave.

James smiled deviously at you before responding, “Yeah, we’re back here.”

tagging:@randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @amourtentiaa @kittykylax @superbturtlemakerathlete @oliviashea05 @pinkandblueblurbs @st0nesnglitter @thatvenusbabe @itsmentalillness @zzzfour @greenlyblue @emmaev @temporaryissue @gubleryum @msmb r @miraclesoflove @velmasteas @drachoesimp @ashlovesthemarauders

[justice4sasuke]

Any spicy One Piece takes? 👀

I have to go to bed because I have work tomorrow, but fuck it I'm working from home all this week anyway.

Luffy is aroace. This is canon but some people can't get it through their thick skulls so I'm adding it anyway.

I've said this before but it always bares repeating: I too have issues with the standard proportions for OP women (my issues is that their waists are too thin though I don't give a shit how big the tiddies are), BUT most of the female characters in OP have strong, well-rounded characters (and if they don't it's because they are just around for an arc so they aren't as in depth, but that's the same thing with the male characters) and the content of their characters is more important than looks. Also Oda has created weirder and more unique female character designs than anyone else in the industry because he likes making weird looking characters.

I literally hate zosan. It is a plague upon my existence. Call me bitter because I'm a sanuso fan and I'm just mad that Sanji and Zoro's aggressive relationship gets more attention than Sanji and Usopp's adorable friendship (Water 7/Enies Lobby with them??? fuck off), I don't care. Am I?

Nami is a lesbian. If you disagree you are wrong.

Everyone thinks OP characters are ugly but as soon as you read it suddenly everyone is hot. Did Oda bimbofy Marco or is it all in my head? I don't even know at this point.

The first part of OP before the time skip is the best shounen ever written. I am no accepting other opinions at this time.

OP has the best color spreads and maybe the best character designs. Best fashions.

The stuff with Sanji and the okama is fine actually because Luffy spent the entire previous arc hanging out with okama and gender non-conforming people and was completely chill with it. I think it's more of a joke about how ridiculous Sanji is because most of the characters are chill it's just Sanji freaking out. See when Sanji had to get the blood transfusion from a couple of okama and he freaks out and Usopp is just like "say thank you". Not saying the whole thing is perfect just that it's not as bad as people say.

The hero of the Amazon Lily arc is Oda because literally any other shounen author would have fucked up that arc and he made no missteps. It's frankly shocking how well done it was.

People spent the entirety of Whole Cake Island whining about if Pudding was going to be evil or not and being disappointed by everything about her because they want female character to be evil for once (there have been some but whatever, if you want more that's your prerogative) when Big Mom was RIGHT THERE being a madwoman with the strength of a giant. Like YALL are DOING this FEMINISM thing WRONG.

Dadan is one of the best characters in the series. Naruto fans are trying to make Sakura not suck and Dadan is just sitting in One Piece being one of the greatest women ever.

As always that really goes for any female character in OP. Yall wish you stanned Nami like me.

This is the best post describing One Piece.

Literally if you try to be a serious character is One Piece you will get clowned on. That's why Oda makes Law's life so miserable because he won't act a fool. That's the beauty of OP.

All the straight pairings yall think are So Real and Obvious are not and yall just don't know what friendship between a man and woman looks like because heterosexuality is toxic.

Film Gold is the best one.

Doflamingo is the best villain.

Yes OP has flaws but I don't want to talk about them because it's my comfort media don't touch me.

That's all I can think of for now thank you and have a nice day.

[sweettodo]

deceive.

armin arlert x female reader.

to deceive [de-ceive] - “it is often done for personal gain or advantage”

includes : mind break, loss of virginity, manipulation, dubcon, some dacryphilia.

a / n, happy sunday, thank for for 1,000 followers !

wc : 2.5k

Armin and Eren, an infamous friendship, tied at the hip. They're a devilish pair, and they do an unduly job at hiding it too.

Women who have slipped under their spell- their friends around them left thinking 'what happened to her?' after having been sucked in, tossed around, and spit out, left behind to pick up the mutilated fragments of her heart. She'll never be the same.

And even worse, the flocks of daughters who fall head over heels for the dangerous blonde, and the evil brunette- who never seem to slip away before they wound the wretched girls that found themselves wrapped around their fingers. But Eren and Armin will never feel any guilt for their behavior, especially when they can't get enough of the delicious taste of a woman's tears.

Armin knew how to captivate you- instantly Eren too, but how were you expected to know that they were playing you right into their palms? A sweet little compliment about your short summer dress one day after your lecture left you reciting the brief conversation for the rest of the day and the following night. Eren stood next to him, hands in his pockets with a complacent grin on his face, making you shrink, feeling minuscule and bewildered with the two in front of you. That’s when it all started.

Not to mention, that's how they preferred their toys, modest, quiet, and easy to break. Just like you. And as if it were a package deal, you're a tight little virgin, this was laughable to the two- this was going to be ever so simple. You were a priceless doll.

Both men had an unholy God complex, placed on a pedestal, and there was absolutely no way they were coming down.

You knew only a little about the two, but they were able to get under your skin with ease, you were now their little plaything, always sandwiched between the two, being teased as they tried to loosen you up, flicking up your skirt or pinching your sides, "y'know us, princess, no need to act so shy n’ scared." Eren coos, petting your head, you scowl, looking at Armin, who's beside his friend, his hand on your waist.

“Guyss, ” you dragged, “stop messing with me!”

Armin took a particular liking towards you, but he knew it wouldn't be as easy to knock your walls down, unlike some others.

You thought about the blue-eyed sweetheart throughout the day since you had met him, mindlessly writing scribbles on the notepad in front of you; your professor rambling as all you thought about was how Armin made you feel beautiful, how cute he thought you were. In just a few minutes of meeting him, he had you fixed, and he knew that soon, you'd be demanding more, and soon, you would need him to praise you again and again.

"She's pretty cute, you like her?" The first time they had seen you, they knew they had to have you.

Armin had hummed in agreement, abandoning his bag on the bed, "yeah," sitting at his desk, "seems awfully quiet though, gotta' break her out of her shell."

He deemed you to be just like him, gentle and pure, and all Armin needed to do was show you how much potential you had. Look at you- you're too shut out, you're too sheltered, girls like you should be compelled to have Armin come and teach you the right way to do things. He knew, that deep down, you yearned to be taught, and he is so good at taking care of delicate girls like you.

You were Armin's, God- he was going to take such good care of you. He was going to corrupt you and make it so that it would be incapable of letting a day go by without the thought of him leaving his mark on you. You'd be thinking about him every second of the day.

Eren and Armin planned it out accordingly, making sure it was just going to be Armin and you in his dorm, so by the time you got there one late afternoon, it was just going to be you two.

You sat so pretty on the edge of his bed, a textbook in your lap as you studied, you and your tiny little shorts- it pissed him off. Walking around campus, walking past him, enticing every man that laid eyes on you, and you couldn't even throw him a bone? Stingy.

He couldn't settle for the fact that you'd never be the one to make the first move, but no- don't take it personally, it was okay, he liked being in control anyways.

Caught by surprise, watching the sweet little blonde remove the textbook off your lap suddenly and get in your face, wrapping his big, soft, and veiny hand around your throat, ridiculing you for being a loser virgin.

“You think guys are gonna want an inexperienced girl like you?” first he wants to break you down. Make you feel like you're alone, and in the wrong for keeping your innocence.

“Have you even had your first kiss?” he taunts, “it’s okay, that's why you're here.” Stroking the side of your face, you're gasping for air as he squeezes your juggler enough to make your eyeballs throb. Now, he wants you to know that the only man that'll touch you is going to be him. Because no one else wants to.

You're trembling, hurt by his sharp insults, he was right, no one was going to touch you; you're tragic, it's pitiful- really, “you want me to help you?” he releases his grip around your now, tender neck, “you want me to teach you?”

You didn't respond, he becomes irritated, “no one likes a prude, you're lucky I'm even helping you.” your self-esteem shatters, he was right. He was right. He was right.

“I'm sorry, Armin.”

Good, you're so good, even when he's tormenting you like you're nothing more than scum, no other girl would apologize after being called a prude, this means it's working. His cock was begging to be set free from his pants, he needed to rip you open. Now.

“Have you ever seen a cock? Touched one?” he seethes, your face scrunching in distaste, looking down at your lap in humiliation. He makes you look at him, “come on, answer.”

You shake your head, “no, I haven't.” He chuckles, what would your first reaction be? To seeing his cock, would it be shocked, excitement?

“You need me, right?”

“I do, I do! Armin!” he smiles, look at you- so willing to be taught by the one and only.

He knows you have no clue what to do, so he makes sure you're going to be completely prepared for him, “lie on your back,” he instructs, you follow direction, he steps in between your legs, taking off his shirt in the process, “open those legs, okay?”

You hold open your legs per his demand, he gets on his knees, elbows on the bed, “you're going to get nice as wet for me before I fuck you, does that sound good?” he wants to give you a step by step, but he's not that selfless, he just really wants to release a hot load in your cunt and send you on your way. He was conflicted.

Nodding, Armin is hooking his index and middle fingers around the waistband of your cheeky panties and pulling them down slowly, your pretty little pussy glistening in his face, stuffing the fabric in his back pocket for keeps.

You're embarrassed, covering your face in shame as he hums at the sight of your pussy, “don't be shy, let me see your face.”

Uncovering your face, he smiles, praising you for listening to him, “good, now watch me eat that pretty pussy of yours.” The vulgar language sliding off his tongue throws you into a loop, making you dizzy as he wastes no time to begin to devour you. Scissoring your folds with his two fingers, spreading you open and kitten-licking stripes up to your sensitive clit, flicking the muscle against your swollen folds and futtering cunt.

Leg quivering, fingers grilling his scalp, he slides his middle finger into your cunt, hooking upwards as he already knows right where all the sweet spots are, your moans music to his ears, “didn't know the shy girl could be so noisy,” he claims, occasionally slipping his finger out of your hole and rubbing in the slick that he catches seeping from your cunt.

Quite frankly, he didn't even care about letting you reach your orgasm. He just needed to play up the front, it’s not every day that there's a girl like you at a college... So he needed to savor the taste, and the feeling of a tight cunt like yours squeezing his finger.

You're crying, he loves it, he loves your crimson cheeks, the tears spilling from your waterline. Your back raising from the bed, he's there to hold it down, keeping you still, he mustn’t let a drop of your slick escape from his mouth.

“‘Bet you wish that you did this earlier,” a pop coming from his mouth as he sucks each finger clean of your slick, you're trying to catch your breath. Stunned, dizzy.

He leans down, wet fingers squeezing and rolling your perk nipple, kissing your lips, your juices tainting your tastebuds. The kiss only lasts a moment or two, before he's back to ridiculing you, “is that what you say when someone eats you out?” you groan, shutting your eyes.

“Thank you, A-Armin.”

His ears jump, his ego could not have been fulfilled enough, his body tingling and weak from your choice of words, he didn't necessarily mean to thank him- but Jesus, he was not complaining, “good, you're such a good girl, guess what I'm going to do next?” He sputters, frantically unbuttoning his jeans, his cock hurt so bad, it was throbbing, begging to be released from his tight jeans.

“Fuck me?” you whisper? Mortified to even say the words, he needed you to say it, he needed you to loosen up, for him.

“Yes- yes, good,” Armin’s so high off lust, he doesn't care about you, he doesn't care about how bad it's going to hurt, and he doesn't care about how you'll want to scream and cry, he just needs to see those crystal-like tears and your pussy leaking with his cum.

You're trembling, watching him pull down his pants and his cock spring out, he needs to make sure you appreciate how big he is. Grabbing you by the hair and making you look at his cock close up as you squirm uncomfortably, body folding as he holds you still, “what's this, tell me.” He sneers, his tip barely touching the tip of your nose.

“I-it’s, your cock, it's your cock, Armin.”

“Guess where it's going?” he was losing control, his act of the nice guy slipping from his fingers- but it was okay, you didn't know the difference, you were clueless.

“In me.” You whined, he releases his grip on your head, falling backward, he's grabbing you from under your thighs and yanking you towards the edge of the bed, gasping, “b-be gentle! Please, Armin!”

“You want me to be gentle? After you went around teasing me for so long?”

“Do you think that’s fair to me? I mean- you’ve teased so many guys- fucking cock tease.” He spits, you swallow, your throat dry.

“B-but,”

Lining his tip up with your entrance, his hand squeezing the soft flesh of your tit, he slides in without warning, “big girls take cock and don't complain, think you can do that?”

Your head flies back, head spinning as he slides his cock into you, the pain of Armin tearing you in half, you try to listen to his harsh demands, “h-hurts, it hurts Armin.”

One ear and out the other, he focuses on his cock disappearing in your deep pussy, walls clenching, desperately trying to kick his thick cock out, your folds decorating the base of his cock, clenching around him so hard it was nearly impossible for him to pull back and fuck back into you, “shh, I'll loosen you up- fuck- this cunt is so tight, can't fit it all.”

Your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he’s finally able to get past the first thrust, the sweat already dripping from his chest as he struggles to move his cock, you're crying, begging him to be gentle, “it hurts, it hurts,” he mocks, “what did I say?”

While his cock thrusts back into you, stripping you of all humanity, forcing you to repeat what he told you before, “say it, or else I don't help you.”

“Big girls take cock- don’t complain, I'm a big girl Armin, ‘swear!” you plead, “‘need you to teach me, please.” He’s gripping your legs, nails breaking the skin, you're wailing as his cock knocks back and forth into you; your tongue lolling out, saliva spilling as all of your holes leak.

He occasionally wipes your tears with his thumb, then making you suck his thumb to taste the salty liquid of his sweat and your tears, he grunts, moans slipping past his lips, “that's why you're here, with me.” What a blatant lie, he wasn’t going to teach you anything.

Your pussy is so good, it makes him drunk, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Your ribbed walls sucking him so well, your pussy is so noisy, he tries so hard to focus, but he can't. He slams into you, his strong hips making your tits bounce and your hair become matted from underneath your head. Legs unable to stay upright as he fucks them numb, the pain since subsided from the first thrust, besides the pain of his tip drilling into the entrance of your cervix.

God- he's so close, so close so close, he can feel it, he knows you're close too, he's feeling generous, so he’s going to let you cum, going to let you bathe his thick cock with your cream, “do you think big girls get to cum? Y’think you deserve it?” he prods, breath fanning your face and tits, making your nipples grow hard again.

“Can I? Can I cum please?” you beg, looking at him with those red, glossy, and precious eyes of yours.

“Of course you can- for being so good, y’learn a lot? Princess?” he interrogates, being as it is, hard enough to sputter out words, you're trying to lick up the drool off your swollen lips.

You nod, screwing your eyes shut, sure, you had orgasms before, but not by a man, and definitely not by a man like Armin, “y-yes, G-God, s’big, love it!”

Relentlessly, he angles his body downwards, skin slapping rapidly as he chases his orgasm, his hair falling in front of his sweaty face, his once, cerulean eyes now a dark and lustful blue, staring daggers into you. His pubic hair beating your tender clit, sending you into orbit.

Crying out his name, body convulsing as he rips an orgasm out of your body, feeling his cock easily slide in and out of you; you had never felt so full, so stuffed.

His hips pounding against yours, you shook as he fucked you through your orgasm, “look at all this cum- fuck- so messy, princess.”

Too fucked out to speak, incoherent words filling the room as his hips rutted mercilessly, thrusts becoming rugged and messy, moaning, his nails digging deeper into your legs as he releases his load into you. Cock twitching as you tried pathetically to fill your lungs with much-needed oxygen, he fucked every ounce of air out of you.

A few minutes had passed, Armin on his back next to you as he tries to catch his breath as well, he had never fucked pussy so good, he couldn't even think straight.

Your pussy sopping, leaking cum as the blonde is slipping his, now, soft cock in his boxers, “need help?” he offers, watching you sit up, replying with a quiet ‘yes please’ he hums, smug look enveloping his face.

“Big girls are supposed to know how to put their pants on.”

*

Practically limping home, and without your underwear, you felt soaked, you looked a mess, but luckily had escaped any type of questioning from your peers.

Unlocking the door to your dorm room, you slip in and finally relax, dropping on your bed and letting your legs rest, ready to fall asleep the second your head hit the pillow.

But before you did that, figuring to remind him to bring you your panties tomorrow, you reached for your phone, unlocking it and heading to your messages, tapping on ‘Armin’, sending him a text.

‘Can I have my underwear back? Tomorrow.’

You hadn't noticed the message never delivered, just dropping your phone on the bed and falling asleep.

Thing was, the message was never delivered, and both Eren and Armin never talked to you again, never even as little as looking in your direction.

[queenangst]

YOU COULD’VE JUST REPLIED ‘STOP’ TO MY COMMENTS INSTEAD OF FREEZING THEM I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN IT, PRICK

I was going to reply to one of your comments on AO3, but I suppose I'll do it here since you've sent me this. Whether you see it or not, read it or not, take it into consideration or not—that's up to you.

To respond to this ask specifically: what about freezing comments is me encouraging you to continue? To be clear, I chose to freeze those comments because I didn't want other people to respond to the threads, but I also froze your first comment—which didn't stop you from leaving two more on pick yourself up.

I hold no contempt for you. I have said it before, but I don't care if you (readers) dislike my works, aspects of my works, etc. That's fine. I understand not every fic is going to be everyone's cup of tea, and that's okay. But what I don't understand is how you failed to see how disrespectful you have been to me as a writer.

For a fic I wrote specifically about management Izuku and hero Shinsou, to focus on themes of heroism and failure and so on, the only thing you remarked was that I should write a version of this fic for Bakugou and Izuku. This story is not about them, you know that. But you shouldn't imply that a BKDK version would be better. You shouldn't demand, multiple times, for me to write another version of my fic. You could have shared this in a polite way. You could have said you loved the concept, and that you think it would also be interesting with management Izuku and Bakugou. Instead you spammed me, sounding entitled and demanding (not only to me, but to multiple writers who I spoke to initially). If I wanted to write a fic like the one you suggested, I probably would have. If you'd brought it up even a little more politely, as someone who enjoys Bakugou & Izuku, I might have thought about it. But multiple demands definitely did not endear me to the idea.

For that note, I also already do requests and commissions sometimes. If you had bothered you might have known that, and you could have asked when they're open, or even just asked me now in general what I thought of the idea. I write things I enjoy; but I also enjoy writing for ideas that other people share for me, that I may not think of. But those start with people respecting my work, my time, and me as a writer, with no expectations that I might actually write if I don't feel up to it.

After those comments, you then went through multiple fics and: critiqued my characterization because it doesn't fit your personal view of Bakugou, called that critique constructive, emphasized ships (Kiribaku, Bakubowl) at me, told me to write more, and bashed a character/s (All Might, and by implication, Izuku).

I understand that not everyone gets when they're being rude on the Internet. So I'll explain: my characterization is my choice, by my preference, and you were critiquing me because how I write Bakugou doesn't align with how you see him. Because he's not, to pull from your comment, harsh enough. (Does Bakugou have to be mean all the time? Doesn't he change, develop, and grow? And have more than one aspect to his personality?) And I didn't ask for constructive/criticism. If I wanted any, I would have stated so. You could have at least asked first if I did, if it wasn't clear. Following that, I think I make it very clear in my works and in the tags that I write about platonic relationships. Focusing on my work through ships (though yes, you ARE allowed to interpret something as romantic, I can't stop you and that's up to you) is disrespectful to me as a gen writer. Again, if I wanted to write ships, I would. And then you said All Might, a character I clearly like, sucks (character bashing, not criticism) and also implied Bakugou would be better with OFA. On a fic that is All Might & Izuku centric, where Bakugou isn't even there. On top of all of that, very, very little of your comments are about the fics themselves, and mostly about what you, the reader, wants. Which is, apparently, not what I write. Again, you don't have to like my work. You are welcome to have your own opinions. But if you don't like what I'm writing: don't read my fic, don't comment on my fic, ask me to write something else when I have requests or commissions, find an author you do like better, or even write it yourself. I encourage you to do so!

I don't know how else to explain the ways you have been rude to me as a writer. I shared (some of) your comments so people would see what not to do as a reader, and others because it was frankly a little ridiculous and I wanted to make light of a situation that while wasn't hurtful to me, was completely baffling. I blacked out your name and froze the comments for you—because I was worried other people might go looking, and regardless of what you said to me, I wouldn't like to encourage people to go after you for something that doesn't even offend me. Because yes—a lot of people agreed that you were being very rude. I stopped sharing them because I saw it was spreading, and I didn't want more people to get on your case. And once I saw they were picking up attention, I wrote a disclaimer that mentioned what I just said, and also states something I think is a good ending point: I'm not here to post hate about commenters. But if there is a comment that makes it off AO3 and onto my blog, then there is probably a reason why.

Addition: I dearly wish that you are kinder to other writers than you are to me. And I hope that whatever circumstances you are in that lead you to saying anything you have to me change, for your sake. And I hope everything is kinder to you, too. Continue reading my fic, continue commenting if you want. Hate me, be rude. That's okay. But I won't say anything more to you. I have said what I think you could listen to, and keep in mind that other writers might be hurt by what you comment and how you say it.

[mickeyhenrysgf]

all yours

Summary: You and Bucky break up unexpectedly but the two of you are still not over each other.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: smut, Jealous!Bucky, degrading language, spankings, unprotected sex

He hated it. Hated every bit it. He was yours. You were his.. Not until the two of you ended things abruptly, a few weeks ago.

It was movie night at the tower. While you couldn’t stand to look at Bucky, you didn’t want to ignore your friends. So, here you were cuddled up on Steve’s lap as everyone settled to their preferred seats.

You could feel Steve was tense under you. Why? Well, Bucky was giving him murder eyes from across the room.

One wrong move and it was over for Steve.

“Doll, are you sure about all of this?” Steve questioned sweetly, his hands carefully above the blankets and away from you skin.

What the hell was Steve even thinking Bucky thought to himself. Bucky’s hands gripped the seat, his eyes never leaving you. His jaw clenched anytime Steve’s fingertips grazed your skin. He must’ve looked crazy to the team, but frankly he didn’t care. He was jealous.

You roll your eyes. “Come on Stevie! Don’t tell me you’re scared of Bucky. He’d never hurt you.”

“Well... when it comes to you... I mean he loves—“ you caught him off. Your fingers going to his lips. You shut your eyes for a moment, knowing what Steve was going to say. Moments from 7 months ago flashed across your mind.

“I do care about you sweetheart, but you have to understand, they need me. I’m not going to just leave my job for you, that’s ridiculous—“ Bucky stopped immediately. He went too far. He didn’t mean for his words to come out like that. But, it was too late, the deed had been done.

You laughed sarcastically hearing his final words which pushed you over the edge.

“No, I-I just stop. He broke up with me remember?” Steve sighed heavily as he listened to you and nodded, trying to get more comfortable in his seat.

You stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Your arms wrapped around Steve’s body, as your head rested on his chest. Steve moved around in his seat but you didn’t mind. Little did you know he was secretly communicating with Bucky.

“Get off of her now” Bucky mouthed from across the room.

“I can’t—“

“Yes, you can” Bucky began to stand up from his seat. Before you could understand what was going on, Bucky’s voice startled you, your head shooting up from Steve’s chest.

“I’d never thought you stoop so low and flirt with my best friend”

“Excuse me!”

“Oh, you heard me loud and clear. Now, get up. We need to talk” Bucky whispered harshly, looking down in disgust with the way you were wrapped around Steve. “Y/N, we both know that I’ll throw you over my shoulder... so take your pick.”

You sighed in defeat. Removing yourself from Steve and stood up, you could’ve sworn you heard Bucky sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry-“ Steve mouthed and looked at you with an apologetic look.

You followed Bucky, waiting for the inevitable. More crying and yelling at Bucky but good thing there was soundproof walls thanks to Tony, you thought sarcastically.

“What the hell was that, Y/N?” He spat through his teeth before slamming the door close with his metal arm.

You scoffed, settling yourself down on the edge of his bed. You looked around his room. The familiar scent of him intoxicating you. He didn’t change a thing. Everything in his room had stayed the same since the break up.

“Why do you fuckin’ care Bucky? Huh? You left me!” Your spat right back at him, your words fueled with anger.

“You know you’re not allowed to talk me like that, little girl” he growled bending down to reach your eye level. Your breath hitched lightly as Bucky’s hand grabbed your jaw. “And I didn’t leave you...”

“Oh, is that the game you want to play now?” you rolled you eyes trying to turn your face from his impending glare but Bucky’s strong hold on your jaw made you stay in place. You weren’t scared of Bucky.

“Strip”

“What?”

“I’m not asking twice. I’m gotta remind you who this pussy belongs to” His words caught you off guard. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave you as you started to peel off your clothes. You hated the fact that you couldn’t deny his commands.

“That’s my good girl... maybe you’ll learn that the only man you’re allowed to sit on is me.” he glowered crawling onto the bed and hovering over you. His thumb stroking your cheek and finding their way to your bottom lip. “You’d actually think I’d leave you” he mumbled against your lips.

“Baby, you’re mine” he said with no doubt as he removed his shirt but his wounds caught you off guard.

There was new scratches, scars, and even stitches. “Bucky, what happened?” Your hands going to trace his wounds but he grabbed your hands and kissed them before pulling away.

“Work.” Thats all he wanted you to know as his lips pressed against your neck and trailed down the valley of your breasts. Your hips voluntary bucking against his jeans.

“I missed you...” You couldn’t understand Bucky’s intentions. He was being soft but you knew he angry. Each kiss made you moan and want him more than ever. You wanted things back to how it used to be.

“I missed you more, baby girl. But, I have to punish you. You know that” You swallowed thickly and nodded. His hands running down your bare thighs, before spreading your legs nice and wide.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re so wet” his fingers running up and down your sleek folds, you shivered and moaned at his actions. “Is this for me or Steve?” He questioned as he flipped you over and spread you on his lap.

Your breath hitching as you knew exactly what was going to happen. His cold, metal hand soothing your cheeks.

“Only for you...”

“Count for me, or we start all over” He teases before smacking your right ass cheek. You yelped in pain, your teeth sinking down on your bottom lip. “One...” you mumbled in shame.

“That’s a good girl...” he chuckled darkly as he continued to slap your ass alternating between his hands. Each one sending you over the edge, and making Bucky harder by the end of it. Your face filled with wet tears from the pain and pleasure. You just wanted Bucky inside you, better yet, you just wanted him back in your life. But, like he said, he never left. He’d never leave you.

“Now, that wasn’t so bad, baby” he wiped your tears away with kisses and stroked your cheek gently. “You want me, huh? Gunna be a good girl and take my cock—“ he mocked pulling his belt off with his jeans & boxers, throwing them across the room. His cock springing up effortlessly against his stomach. Fuck, he was big. You haven’t had him in months, you almost forgot how big he was. He pulled you with him across the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“What’s my pretty girl, thinking- thinking about my cock?” He smirked, his angry, swollen tip running against your folds as his thumb swirled around your clit. You bucked your hips against him, your nails sinking into his biceps.

“We haven’t... well— it’s big and— will it still f-“

“Fit?” He completed the words for you and chuckles. “Baby, You were made for me. Of course, it still fits..” His hands began to squeeze your breasts heavily as he gave you a large hickey on your neck.

“Need you—“ you whimpered heavily and with your words Bucky sunk into you with ease. The two of you moaning in unison. Your legs wrapping around his torso, as your head falls against the pillows. God, you were so tight Bucky thought to himself. It felt painful almost but as Bucky stayed in place, the more you wanted it.

“Move”

“Shit, taking me so well-“ Bucky groaned as he started to move, his thrusts starting to pick up with speed. “We’re perfect for each other...” he said between thrusts. You mewled with each thrust, his cock pushing all the way until you could see the bludge on your bottom half. His thumb going back to flick your clit with each thrust. The overwhelming pleasure was clouding your thoughts.

“Baby... don’t stop” he smirked heavily hearing your moans and pleas, his thrusts going at a sporadic pace with the way your walls were clenching around him.

“Beg for me, princess. Be a good girl” his lips nipping your jaw and then down to your breasts as his cock swelled and twitched.

“Please, cum in me, Bucky...!”

“Who’s pussy is this, huh—?” He slapped your ass heavily again, the marks from before flaring up and you winced in pain. His hand wrapping around your throat but enough for you to speak.

“It’s all yours, Bucky!” You choked heavily. “That’s what I thought” he smirked, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders to get an even deeper angle inside you.

“Cum with me, baby... gunna fuckin lose it any minute” Bucky was right because in seconds your eyes rolled back as the immense pleasure washed over your body. Your body arching into him. Before you could even recover, Bucky was pumping in loads of white ropes within you too. He groaned, falling on top of you, his head in the crook of your neck, as he sucked on the skin. His hands following the shape of your body as he snuggled you closer to him. As you layed on the bed, glistening in sweat and cum, you tried to wrap around what just happened.

Was Bucky going to wake up and leave you again? You thought to yourself and the feelings of pleasure, and even happiness soon faded away. You started to cry and then you began to cry some more from the embarrassment of it all.

Bucky could feel it before you even started. The way you didn’t wrap you arms around him after sex. Or the kiss he’d always get on his lips after. He knew something was wrong but once he heard your sniffles beneath him, he understood everything. He hated to see his princess upset.

“Baby, you know I never meant to hurt you. I was selfish and stupid. I should’ve apologized sooner...instead I was an idiot who broke things off” He sighed heavily, rolling the two of you, so now you were laying on top of him. He stroked your hair and cupped your cheeks.

“You’re my girl, forever. I’m never leaving you— you hear me? Please don’t cry” he stroked your tears away and you smiled softly. Your smile warming him inside. His embrace giving you reassurance. He was a fool for the way he acted but he would never be a fool again, that’s for damn sure. You were his.

[askdracomalfoyofficial]

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𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Note: The paragraphs that are in italic are the thoughts he is thinking —

TW: Mild thoughts of killing her. Swearing. Possession. Nothing to serious, but thought I would put this before-hand. Enjoy!

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It all started after I had called you a Mudblood. You see, my father taught me all about blood-status, pure-bloods being the highest form of witch or wizard. Magic comes easy to us, our veins are filled with it. We have control over it. Then theres you, someone who has Muggle parents, making you just that. How you had a outburst of magic is something I'm currently questioning. I can certainly see you being someone who's Drabble around with it, study it in your books.

But my father warned me about people like you. Warned me that your blood is dirty, and anyone whom surrounds themselves around you, or even do much as become friends with you is a blood-traitor.

Anyone under us, we don't care for.

Yet, there was something about you that had always piqued my interest somehow, someway or another. I can't tell you what it is, Granger. But, Merlin… I don't know how you are our Brightest Witch of Her Age became such a thing for a Muggle-born. You and your swatty ways, always raising your bloody hand in class every two, three seconds. Basically… dissecting the answers or things the Professors would teach us. God, how I wished I could cut your hands off, or cast a silencing charm on you so your mouth stops moving, you annoying wrench.

The witch with unruly messy mop on her head. Tame your fucking mane, Granger. Get some tips from Pansy for all I care, maybe then… you'd learn something. But, you're not someone who cares about appearances are you? You're the first girl I know to not. Doesn't surprise me.

He breathes out a sigh.

I bloody fucking hate you. You have no idea. I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and watch the life leave your eyes but not as much as I want to run my fingers through your hair, grab a fistful and yank your head back just to crash my lips onto yours. To make you feel the hate I have for you, to make your lips swollen. To have my tongue vigorously dance with yours, a duel to win. I want to press my lips to your neck, find your pulse and feel it beat against my lips then suck your breath from you. Suffocate in your aroma, to smell your hair and taste the salt of your skin against my tongue.

“For instance… I smell,” she leans her face more over the steam. “Freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and–“ Her words trailed off as she started to realize who it was.

Thinking about it is repulsive, thinking about you, specifically is repulsive. I’m thinking about all this, while you're smelling your Amortentia, and I bet what you're smelling is that daft bimbo, Weaselby.

Ah, the lovely Amortentia. The most powerful love potion that there is. It has a smell for each and every individual according to what attracts them.

Draco adjusts his stance, hands finding a home in the pocket of his trousers. Eyes on her, more so the back of her head, watching while she smells the steam that swirls endlessly up towards her face, and the way her hair grows with the humidity. In a way, it matches the way his had been tousled at his fringe. It looks as if someone had ran their fingers through his own hair and ruffled it up. Hers just looks like straight bed head, yet not taken care of.

His brow raised, looking through his lashes at her.

Weaselby smells like mown grass, well that's quite bloody disgusting. And, you're telling me that's what attracts you?

A scoff slipped out from somewhere in the room, and for a moment he panicked because he knew it came from him the moment Blaise lifted his eyes to look at him with a brow of his own raised. But, Draco's eyes were on the back of her head, which in that moment he regretted because she turned around and automatically met his. Jaw muscles worked as it snapped shut, clenching his teeth together.

Don't look at me like that. Who do you think you are?

Professor Slughorn dismissed the class, he hurried to get his things situated and left the room without so much as a second glance back at his fellow classmates; including her. But he could feel the way that her eyes bored into his back, setting his skin ablaze.

Eventually, Blaise caught up to him. “What was all that back there, mate?”

“What? What do you mean was all that?” He stopped in his tracks, and lifted his eyes to meet Blaise’s but grew uncomfortable and looked away, ah, the stone wall was helping particularly well in this moment.

“Why did you act that way after Granger smelled her Amortenia?”

Merlin! He wasn't going to let this up. Fucking always so observant.

“Because what she smelled was ridiculous.”

“No, what is it really? You can't possibly think I'm that stupid, Draco.” He persisted.

Draco’s eyes gravitated back to him. Jaw tight. “What would you like me to say, Blaise? Is there a specific thing you're expecting me to answer with? Because whatever you're trying to get out of me, isn't there. So, I suggest that you stop while you're ahead.” Was what he left the conversation with.

Blaise, if I told you anything, you'd think that I’ve gone bloody mental, shit, I'm beginning to wonder myself if I did.

All through the years I’ve been watching Hermione Granger, bullying her and her friends because I get amusement out of the looks on their faces. How I know that I piss them off, and I'm good at it. There was once a part of me who loved to watch her cry, to bathe in those tears that fell down her cheeks, those very cheeks I want to grab in my hand and attack her jaw with my lips.

Draco shook his head as if he were trying to dismiss the thoughts, dismiss the way he was feeling and thinking as they weren't quite appropriate.

This year was so utterly fucked. I just want it to be over.

He made his way through the corridors, retreating from Blaise and dipping around the corner. He needed some down time, perhaps the library would do some good. Settle down with a book, in a far corner sounded lovely.

An hour gone by, and he'd been so enveloped in multiple books because he couldn't just decide on one and he needed to distract his mind from the interaction with Blaise, and Hermione interfering his thoughts.

But low and behold, she came into the library. Of course! The know-it-all loved to read just as much as he did.

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me.

Draco rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw tight and pretended to read but every so often his gaze would lift to where she was. She was huffing loudly, even two exasperated sighs left her mouth. His teeth gritted and the muscle in his jaw worked.

After a couple of moments, perhaps five minutes gone by of her continuing with her loud outbursts of breathing, huffs and sighs he had enough of it all. Draco slammed the book shut, picking up the others and went to return them to their slots. When he was done, he approached her. Shouldering the frame of one of the bookshelves.

“Do you need to be so loud? This is a library for a reason.” His voice was cold, like a cool breeze brushing through the space between them. By the looks of it, he could tell that when he spoke that he had startled her.

She turned around mid-way while pulling out a book. Her chocolate-colored eyes lifted to meet his with a glare. Her head tilted to the side, and a retort was just waiting to leave her mouth. Draco had noticed this when he seen her lips twitch.

“Do you wish for me to apologize to you? Because,” she scoffed, crossing her arms with the book over her chest and under one arm. “You won't be getting it.”

“Who said anything about you apologizing?” His brow raised. “It's the fact that you are in a library, being loud with just your breath.”

Hermione looked around them. “Seems to me like we're the only ones in here, Malfoy. So —” she put the book back and moved down the shelf more, opposite of where he was standing. “I don't really see a problem here, you're just always bothered unless it's you doing something someone doesn't like.” She retorted, rather calmly.

How are you always able to handle your composure when around me. Yes — keep going down the aisle, pretty soon you'll be stuck in that corner.

Draco’s jaw snapped, his throat clicked. He hadn't really observed the room when he came in, but she was right about it being empty and the only ones in there being them. What a situation to be in.

“And you breathing loudly happens to be something that I don't like. I wouldn't be standing here right now if otherwise.” A hand slipped from across his chest, as his index finger lifted from the light fist he held, raising it like he were thinking before taking a step closer, slowly. “I am always bothered by you. Your presence is insufferable. Anywhere I go, I always have to see your face, I'm repulsed by it.”

It's true, I am always bothered by you. You are insufferable, but I am sure I could put you into your place; if you'd let me. I may be repulsed by your face, but I can't help but also like looking at it, at those lips —

She laughed manically, like what he said was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard, or perhaps she had seen right through him. Hermione stopped what she was doing with the books, what book was she trying to find anyways? Her body shifted, feet angled towards him and arms remained crossed over her chest.

“You're the only one who thinks these things, and quite frankly they do not bother me.”

Man, you are bloody stubborn — not as much as I am.

He stepped closer, a hand coming up to grip onto the edge of the shelf. His own height towering over her own, blocking out the library light from her face. They were now sharing each other's exhaled breathes, and he knew she could feel the way his ghosted along her face. She didn't at all seem bothered by his presence now crowding her, backed into the corner of a bookshelf. He was looming over her.

“They don't bother you?” He asked and his tone dripped sarcasm. She shifted uncomfortably. “Do tell me, what does bother you then?”

“Why would that be something you're curious about? Since when did you care about what bothers me or not?”

Draco smirks, his head turning to the side while his eyes fell to the door of the library. Tongue grazing the bottom of his upper teeth. “You're right,” he turned his head back, glaring down through his lashes. “Why would I care? I don't care for someone of the liking of you.”

With that — he leaned down towards her more, for a moment he looked as though he were going to kiss her. But it was just to give a look of intimidation before his weight pressed into the hand that gripped the shelf to push himself off. Hands finding their way back into his trouser pockets.

I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much and you already know that don't you, Granger? Because I make it known, it's all over my face whenever you look at me, whenever we run into each-other. I hate you, yet I want to fucking kiss you, I want to do these things to do you that I, when I was younger couldn't see myself doing. Let alone have never done with a witch before besides Pansy, she always knew how to keep my best interests in mind.

I want to have my hands in your hair, tangled in my fingers and watch as your curled locks fall through. I want my hand around your throat possessively, let my thumb graze along your jaw and down the front of your throat like I'm thirsty for you and just want a little taste.

I want to have your clothes pooled at your feet while my eyes roam your naked canvas, I want to take in every scar, beauty mark, freckle. I want to do it all.

I want to trace the pads of my fingers down your spine, to your tailbone and trail them around to your hips.

I want to do so much to you — I want to possess you.

But then I'm reminded just by looking at you that you're a Muggle witch, and I fucking hate you, you're repulsive and insufferable. A know-it-all swat, who just can't keep her fucking mouth shut.

I'm conflicted, my stomach is in knots and this'll be the one thing that takes me to my very grave.

[smaidjor]

i know they're losing (chapter 3)

Hello everyone! Welcome back to your favorite(/j) hot mess of a fic. Sorry this chapter took a little longer to post, I thought I'd give you all a bit of time to recover from that last one. Plus, I was working on Scott's POV of this (which will be posted soon, don't worry!) Anyways, enjoy the fic!

(Once again obligatory disclaimer this is characters not people, don't ship real people, etc.)

(Also a disclaimer that I am not a medical professional and any medicine portrayed in this fic is likely inaccurate. Do not follow any medical procedures used in this fic, as I did absolutely 0 research to confirm any of this.)

Chapter Title: I turn at last to paths that lead home

Chapter Wordcount: 3214

Content warnings: blood, canon-typical violence

AO3 Link

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Actual fic under the cut:

The next morning dawns bright, sunny, and with a looming sense of unease that Jimmy can’t seem to shake. Scott’s ring feels heavy on his finger despite the resolution they reached yesterday, and he shifts anxiously as he waits for his husband to wake up. The sun’s well over the horizon and Scott still isn’t up, which only makes him more anxious. Usually, Scott’s an early riser. Today, though, he’s sleeping like the dead, and the scar on his throat doesn’t help the effect. Something is wrong. Jimmy doesn’t know how or why he knows it, but something is wrong and why is Scott still sleeping?

Finally, Jimmy can’t take it any longer. “Scott? Scott, wake up,” he whispers.

Nothing.

“Scott! Wake up!”

His husband is still firmly unconscious, and Jimmy’s heart leaps into his throat as he begs one more time. “Scott? Please?”

Scott rolls over and blinks at him, thank god, his voice coming out thick with sleep. “Five more minutes, darling.”

“I think something’s wrong,” Jimmy urges. “It feels wrong. Really wrong.”

That gets his love to sit up, rubbing at his eyes. There are still dark circles visible under them, and Jimmy gets a rush of guilt for waking him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s alright, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, I trust your gut.” Scott gets out of bed with only a slight stumble, sliding on his cloak in one graceful movement. “Let’s go look, and if it’s nothing then I’ll sleep more, okay?”

Jimmy nods, hurrying after him. “I have a really terrible feeling, Scott. Be careful, please.”

“I should be telling that to you.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten more careful!”

Scott laughs, looking more alive than he has in months, but quickly sobers again as they reach the front door. “You’re right, Jimmy. Something isn’t right.”

“I know, it feels awful!”

“Mhm.” Scott snatches up a frankly ridiculous axe from nearby, a shimmering pink monstrosity that’s twice the size of Jimmy’s head. “Stay behind me, just in case.”

The door creaks as it swings open, and the source of Jimmy’s unease becomes immediately clear.

Across the valley is the demon, standing next to Scott’s enchanting tower.

“That’s the demon!” Jimmy hisses, once he gets his racing heart under control. “Right there by the tower!”

Scott looks like someone just killed a cat in front of him, an odd sort of heartbreak flashing across his face before it’s replaced with determination. “That?”

“Yes!”

“Right. Okay. Jimmy, I need you to listen to exactly what I say right now. If I say get down, you get down. If I say run, you run and don’t look back no matter what you hear. Can you do that?”

Jimmy looks at the elf who very nearly broke his heart, and chooses to put that heart right back in Scott’s hands. “I trust you. If you say run, I’ll run.”

“Alright. Give me your engagement ring.”

“Wh-”

“Trust me. Please.”

Jimmy hands it over.

Scott slides it onto his finger. His hands are a little smaller than Jimmy’s, and it only fits on his right middle finger. Which would normally be cute, but right now Jimmy is just terrified. “Okay, Jimmy. I’m about to go out the front door, and when I do, I need you to go out the side door over there and run for the stables. When you get there, roll in the mud and then run for the village. Speed over stealth, corrupted elves track by smell and sound rather than sight.”

Jimmy nods.

“From there,” Scott continues, “I need you to track down an elf called Gilnar and tell them to lock down the kingdom and warn everyone of the danger. I also need you to tell them that Lord Smajor orders them to protect you.”

“What about you? Will you be okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

Jimmy knows Scott’s lying because Scott could never properly lie, not when it’s to Jimmy. He always looks away, no matter how steady his voice stays. Jimmy says nothing about it, but he grabs a spare sword and prays he’ll be quick enough to save Scott if it all goes downhill.

Scott hefts the axe. “Ready?”

Jimmy isn’t, but he nods. “Ready.”

Scott steps out the door, calling out something in some elven language that sounds like a challenge. At the same time, Jimmy bolts out the side door, sprinting for a low building which he thinks is the barn.

Somehow, he gets there without incident, and he throws himself into the mud without hesitation. The farrier gives him a deeply weird look, which Jimmy ignores in favor of sprinting for the village. The altitude means he’s out of breath by the time he gets there, hurrying inside the walls. The elves give him strange looks, a few seeming rather judgemental. Jimmy tries not to flush, remembering Scott’s instructions.

“Excuse me?” He asks the nearest elf. “I’m looking for uh, Gilnar?”

They stare him down, raising a single eyebrow. “For what reason?”

“Scott- Lord Smajor sent me.”

In the background, there’s a cry of pain, which thankfully sounds demonic rather than elven.

“Gilnar should be that way.”

“Thank you, uh, gentleperson!” Jimmy hurries that way, stopping another villager. “Are you Gilnar?”

The look he gets is even stranger. “Do I look like a captain of the guard to you? No. What do you want Gilnar for anyways?”

“Scott told me to find them.”

“Then that’s them over there,” the elf tells him, pointing out an incredibly short elf with neatly plaited brown hair.

“Thank you!”

Gilnar looks up at his approach, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Lord Codfather, right? Scott sent ya?”

“He said to tell you to lock down the kingdom,” Jimmy reports faithfully. “He also said you should protect me, or something like that, but I don’t really need- I’ll be fine is the point.”

“Riiiiight. Calros!”

A tall elf appears behind them.

“Protect the codfather, Lord Scott’d be a bit put out if he died, I think. Alqualoth!” Another elf appears. “I need you to help me get everythin’ locked down.” With that, Gilnar hurries away, a few elves falling into formation behind them.

“So….this is awkward,” Calros, the tall elf, offers.

Jimmy ignores them in favor of running to the edge of the cliff the village is built on, trying to catch a glimpse of Scott. He’s rewarded only with the sight of his husband dueling a demon, which isn’t exactly what anyone wants to see at 8 o’clock in the morning. At least Scott doesn’t seem to be entirely overwhelmed, but the demon has far too much of the upper hand for Jimmy’s comfort.

“Whoa, whoa, let a girl catch up,” Calros yelps. She doesn’t seem very dignified for an elf, but Jimmy’s not very dignified for a human, so he understands. “So, uh...how’s Codland?”

Unfortunately for Calros and her well-meaning questions, at that moment, Scott starts screaming. It takes a moment for Jimmy to even register the sound as Scott’s voice; he’s never heard Scott scream before. It’s a high, broken noise, pure pain in every note as the demon pins Scott to the mountainside. Jimmy doesn’t think there’s anything he wouldn’t give to never have to hear that noise again, which is why he jumps the wall at the edge of the village.

“No, wait!” Calros yells.

Jimmy’s already gone, landing awkwardly on the other side. He hardly feels the pain of what’s surely a twisted ankle, sprinting for the scene of the fight. The sword flies into his hand, the gleam of enchantment shimmering bright. He doesn’t have a single second to think about what he’s doing as he opens his mouth to shout. “Hey, demon thing! Yeah, you! You’re ugly! And you probably smell bad!”

The being turns its head in a way that’s far too human for Jimmy’s comfort, and thank god, Scott stops screaming. “What did you say to me?” It hisses.

Jimmy’s heart is beating in his throat, palms sweaty as he scrapes together the few remaining bits of his courage. “I said you’re ugly! And you suck! Leave my husband alone!”

The demon loosens their hold, rage twisting their smile into something even more terrifying, and Scott backhands them across the face, kicking his way free. Jimmy watches as he struggles to his feet, the ring gleaming on his hand.

Scott cries something in some elven tongue, and the demon hisses.

He calls out another word, a command, and the ring glows with a light of its own as the demon is forced back, inch by inch. Finally, it flies backwards and vanishes entirely.

Scott sinks to his knees, cradling the hand with the ring on it, and Jimmy breaks into a run again.

“Scott! Scott!”

His husband looks up at him with haunted eyes, face bruised and battered, a little blood trickling down his brow. His teeth are bared, just a little sharp, and there’s something desperate about the way he whispers Jimmy’s name, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Jimmy kneels by him quickly, looking for any major injuries. “What’s wrong? Where- what’s hurt? I’ll fix it, I promise, I-” he’s cut off by Scott yanking him into a desperate hug, burying his face in Jimmy’s shoulder.

“Oh,” Jimmy says weakly. He wraps his arms around Scott in return, running a soothing hand up and down Scott’s back as he feels the elf tremble. “It’s alright, Scott, we’re alright.”

“Jimmy,” Scott says again. “Jimmy, I can’t.”

“I-”

“I want it to be over. I don’t want elves or nations or politics. I just want you.”

“I know, I know,” Jimmy soothes.

‘Why does it have to be me? It wasn’t supposed to be! It wasn’t supposed to be me!” Scott sounds almost angry, but the words quickly dissolve into incoherent sobs and fragments of sentences. “I- please- shouldn’t have- Jimmy. Jimmy.” He repeats Jimmy’s name over and over, hands clutching the fabric of Jimmy’s shirt, and Jimmy has never felt so helpless. All he can do is whisper empty comforts, kissing the top of Scott’s head and holding him close.

Elves have begun to surround them, varying looks of concern or disgust on their faces. Jimmy glares up at all of them, daring them to say something.

“Uh, milord?” Gilnar starts, and that’s the final straw.

“Give him a goddamn minute!” Jimmy snaps, rage bubbling up under his skin. “He just fought a demon for all of you, let the man rest! I know you’re all elves and you’re all- all elegant and composed or whatever, but you can’t expect someone to be perfect! We’re all human, you know!”

One of the elves gives him a look of disdain. “You are human, Codfather. We are not. Lord Smajor knew the responsibilities and difficulties of ruling.”

“He’s too young for this,” Jimmy thinks he hears someone mutter, but he’s too angry to bother paying attention.

“I- well I don’t think anyone could have expected a demon! And probably even less people’d be willing to fight one! Scott’s one of the bravest, kindest, smartest people I know, so lay off him, will you?”

“You know nothing of the affairs of elves,” the same elf sniffs.

Jimmy’s about to open his mouth and inform them that he knows about the affairs of being a decent person, for goodness sake, but he’s cut off by Scott raising his head, his sobs subsiding into ragged breathing. “It’s fine, Jimmy. They are correct, I do have responsibilities.”

“They can’t expect you to be perfect,” Jimmy argues, but there’s no dissuading Scott as he staggers to his feet.

“Gilnar, get the village out of lockdown and make sure people are aware of the threat of Xornoth. Celebear, search the library for any books on corruption of elves, and Lauriel, translate any you find that are not Sindarin into it. Elder council, I need research done on any rings of power that are strong enough to counteract Vilya to that degree, that will narrow down what Xornoth has. Now, the Codfather and I need to negotiate wool and fish trades,” Scott adds, grabbing Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy yelps, startled, as Scott drags him off with inhuman strength.

They make it up the hill and into Scott’s house before Scott slumps, collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs. “Well, fuck me to the End and back,” he groans.

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy asks, worried.

“Pretty much. Gilnar’s okay, just tough as shit, and so are Celebear and Lauriel, but...I wasn’t- well, I wasn’t meant to inherit Rivendell, and the Council of Elders takes every opportunity to remind me of that fact.”

“Oh. Who’s Xornoth?”

Scott laughs, a bitter, exhausted sound. “My twin, also known as the demon that’s been terrorizing you.”

At first, Jimmy thinks he’s misheard. “What?”

“My twin. My older sibling. The person who was supposed to inherit the throne of the elves.”

“What?”

Scott sighs. “Let me start from the beginning. My parents were two elven monarchs, one of the Sindar, and one of the Noldor. With other bloodlines mixed in, but the Sindar and Noldor is the important bit since those two groups haven’t always gotten along. Somewhere around fifty-five years ago, they started trying for kids. What they didn’t expect was that Xornoth and I are identical twins, only the fifth set of elven twins ever recorded.”

“Whoa.”

“Mhm. Xornoth was- is- technically the older one, who was always set to inherit the throne of the elves and unite our divided people. They were compared to Elrond, wise and powerful leader of another land named Rivendell far in the past, and I was Elros, his twin. Impulsive, snarky, human.” Scott closes his eyes, looking as if it pains him to talk about this. “Our parents died when we were both quite young, and we were brought up expecting Xornoth to take the throne as soon as they came of age. I spent my time hanging out with mortals, instead, getting involved in things like mcc and 3rd life.”

“Ohhh,” Jimmy says intelligently.

Scott nods tensely. “When I was the elven equivalent of seventeen or so, Xornoth gave me a ring. This ring, specifically,” he says, tapping Jimmy’s engagement ring. “Vilya, an elven ring of power. They told me to leave Rivendell and not return.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time, but they were being corrupted by a ring of their own, not to mention their own desire for power.” Scott’s voice shakes a little, and Jimmy takes his hand in comfort. “I returned after coming of age while away to find that Xornoth had fled and I was now the heir of Rivendell. Which absolutely no one wanted.”

“Why not? You’re amazing!” Jimmy protests.

“Remember when I told you that I’m not a very elven elf? That. I’m too human for their tastes, spend too much of my time with humans.”

“Well, I think you’re wonderful.”

Scott squeezes his hand tight, a faint, fond smile creeping onto his face. “Thank you, Jimmy. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jimmy replies, and then something Scott said catches up with him. “Wait. Scott?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Did you give me an elven ring of power for an engagement ring?”

“….Maybe.”

Jimmy’s torn between laughter and outrage. “Me! You gave me, little old Jimmy Solidarity, an elven ring of power?”

“You’re the most precious thing in my life. I gave you everything I could offer.”

Jimmy flushes immediately, feeling his cheeks heat with the compliment. It’s not fair that Scott can make him lose all his remaining braincells with just a simple sentence, it really isn’t! “Stop that!”

“Stop what?” Scott asks innocently.

“Saying that stuff and giving me that look, you know what I mean! That soft one that- that makes me all blushy and stuttery!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s smirking. He definitely knows exactly what he’s doing, and Jimmy would hate him for it if he was even capable of hating Scott.

“I’m trying to scold you for giving me a ring of power that’s super important, stop- stop flirting, for goodness sake!”

“You’re hot when you’re flustered, though.” The charming words would be a lot more effective if Scott didn’t also choose that moment to try and wipe the blood off his forehead, only succeeding in smearing blood everywhere and reminding Jimmy to be worried about him.

“Let me get that,” Jimmy offers, looking around for a rag. Scott patiently lets him fuss, and Jimmy dabs at the cut with a wet rag and bandages it carefully. He moves on to cleaning out smaller cuts and scrapes, then the bruises, handing Scott some ice to put on the largest ones. Even then, he’s not fully satisfied until he makes Scott count backward from 100 to prove he hasn’t hit his head too hard.

“Ninety-two, ninety-one, I swear I’m fine, Jimmy, ninety, eighty-nine, eighty-eight, eighty-seven, I literally explained elven rings of power to you, eighty-six, eight-five, can I stop counting now?”

“No.”

“Jimmyyyyyyyy,” Scott whines.

“Just a bit more? For me?” It’s a dirty trick, but Jimmy gives him the puppy dog eyes that he knows Scott can’t say no to.

He’s rewarded with a long-suffering sigh and “Fine. Eighty-four, eighty-three, eighty-two…”

Jimmy makes him count all the way down to seventy and then multiply together thirteen and twelve before he’s satisfied, ignoring Scott’s complaining about having to do math so early in the morning.

“I can’t believe my own husband made me do math.”

Jimmy laughs and bops him on the nose. “I’ll make breakfast to make up for it?”

“You better!” Scott says, but he’s smiling too.

Jimmy makes them both pancakes, firmly ignoring the lingering fear from the demon attack, not to mention all the revelations from this morning. Those are problems for future Jimmy. Present Jimmy is going to scold his husband for sneaking bits of pancake batter (“It doesn’t even taste good, Scott!”) and drink hot chocolate in a beautiful little kitchen with the love of his life. None of that demon nonsense, no thank you. Just hot chocolate and pancakes and the sound of Scott’s laughter as he teases Jimmy about smelling like fish. Which is a perfectly fine smell, thank you very much, Scott, why are you laughing?

Every so often, he pauses and admires the bracelet that’s still on his wrist, running his fingers over the elegantly shaped flowers. This must have taken Scott so long to make, and he did it all for Jimmy. He gave Jimmy a ring of power, for goodness sake! Jimmy doesn’t think he’ll ever be over the thrill of how it feels to be so loved and to know it, too. To know Scott loved him back in 3rd life and loves him now and will love him for the rest of Jimmy’s mortal lifespan and beyond. He can’t quite wrap his head around it, honestly, but it’s not a bad thing, not at all. How could having Scott in his life ever be a bad thing? He thinks- knows, as well as he knows his own self- that whatever happens next, he and Scott can face it together.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Wash Day

Yall I just really want Trisskel to be a solid couple from like, day one and be happy and in love and hhhnnngggg. I have feelings. (specifically Netflix Triss and Game Eskel) 

Summary: Modern AU Eskel helps Triss with wash day when she cant use her arms. 

Warnings: Mentions of burn injuries and burns in healing process, nothing gorey, just the mention of scabs, temporary dependency, dealing with the shitty mental part of recovering from major injuries/surgeries - not fucking bathing, eskel is not flexible and tries so hard to do things right. bless, lol swearing as is usual

I’d like to put a little disclaimer that I did a bunch of natural hair care research for this but I have no experience save from helping my friend diffuse her hair before class. 

________________

Triss groaned and tossed her phone to the other end of the couch she was perched on, wiping her one good hand over her face. Her burns over her chest still weren’t allowing her much range of motion with her right arm and her hair was starting to drive her absolutely insane. Yennefer was going to come over and help with wash day, but Ciri got in a fight at school, leaving Triss to sit with an itchy, ratted, and, frankly, horrendous head of hair. 

She leaned her head back against the arm of the couch and sighed, not even able to adjust the bun Eskel had helped her with that morning. 

Speaking of…

She scooted over the couch to pick up her phone, tapping the little call icon under his nickname, “Hey, Yen can’t come over tonight. No need to pick up the wine,” she sighed. 

“Are you sure? Nothing wrong with a little treat, babe.” 

“I’m sure. It was more for her efforts than my treat anyway.”

“If you say so… How are you feeling?”

“Less shit than this morning. I’m just tired,” she didn’t add the feeling of hopelessness that went along with not even being able to bathe on her own. He worried enough for the both of them and then some. 

“I’m picking up the good wine. I’ve got one more client then I’m done. Maybe take a nap?”

“Skel…”

“I will spoil you if I want to. Oh! Look! There’s my 3:30! Bye Bug! Love you!” he hung up on her before she could protest.

She rolled her eyes as she lowered the phone into her lap, smiling a little despite her annoyance. 

Gingerly, she made her way to their bedroom and laid down, running the risk of taking out the bun to lay comfortably. She turned on a podcast she told Jask she’d listen to and hoped to zone out at the least, if not actually sleep. 

-

Triss was woken by Eskel stomping in their front door and dropping his gym bag with a dramatic thud. A few moments later she could hear grocery bags settling on the kitchen counter, the distinct sound of wine bottles bumping together reminding her what he probably had planned. 

She ever so slowly tipped over and pushed herself up with her left hand, catching a horrifying full-body reflection in the mirrored closet doors. 

The scabs and little spots that were still bandaged she was starting to get used to, but the rest of her? Looking at herself in sweats that hadn’t been changed in two days, a summer tank top with no bra and coffee stains, and mismatching fuzzy christmas socks was… difficult. Her hair was wild, all the curls stretched out and sticking together in big frizzy clumps that stuck out at odd angles. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had only been four weeks. No one was going to be back to normal after four weeks. Her body was using all its energy to heal, not look put together.

Regardless of her efforts she felt the tears well up in her eyes and her breath hitch with the effort of holding them back. 

It still fucking sucked.

Eskel’s soft touch on her thigh made her jump, “Is it hurting again?”

She shook her head, opening her eyes to see him knelt in front of her with his eyebrows drawn up in worry, “No. I’m okay,” she whispered, pulling herself together and resting her hand over his. 

Eskel tilted his head, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I… I look like I fell down the garbage chute,” she laughed. It wasn’t her usual, musical laugh, though. She laughed because she knew, in the grand scheme of things, it was ridiculous. It felt stupid to be worried about how she looked when she’d lived and, well, laughing was better than more tears.

“You’re always lovely to me,” Eskel hummed, brushing her tears away with the back of his knuckles.

She leaned into his touch and took a steadying breath, “I just don’t feel like me.”

He stretched up to kiss her forehead, “I’m sorry, Bug.”

She just shrugged and squeezed his hand. 

“Yen called. I got a very long lecture on wash day and firm orders to help you wash and deep condition your hair. If you’re feeling up to it,” Eskel flashed that crooked grin she could never resist and she shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“Are you prepared to follow instructions?” she teased. 

“Babe,” he raised one eyebrow, “the only instructions I don’t follow are on Top Ramen packs.”

-

Eskel seemed to have confused ‘instruction’ with ‘directions’.

“I swear to God, Eskel. You don’t have to read the ‘how to use’ blurb,” Triss groaned, sitting on a kitchen chair they’d moved into the bathroom with dripping wet hair, “Just section off my hair and do what I tell you.” 

“But I don’t want to use too much,” he protested, “This says to use one tablespoon!”

“Yeah! For natural blondes! I have completely different hair and know what I’m doing. Use half the bottle! I don’t care! Just get it fucking clean!” 

Eskel rested his hand on her good shoulder and gave her an apologetic look in the mirror, “I’m sorry. How many sections do you want?” 

“I- it’s not a number. You just- kneel down for me I’ll show you,” she pointed at the floor next to her and sighed, missing Yen more than ever. She drew little lines with her nails through Eskel’s hair as she explained just how to scrub while making the least amount of tangles possible. He watched her in the mirror and pointed to the points on her scalp she was talking about with a look of serious concentration. 

It was cute. Even if he was a little inflexible he really did want to do a good job. 

Conditioner was easier, even combing out the tangles went fairly smooth. They took a break and made dinner, breaking open the good wine. 

Just having her hair down and somewhat bouncy again made Triss feel a million times better. The sweats were exchanged for yoga pants and the tank top for one of Eskel’s sweaters too. It almost felt normal. 

They ate ice cream while he worked the deep conditioning mask through her hair. 

“You sure I’m not using too much?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to take the bite she held up for him, nice and small so he didn’t get a brain freeze. 

“Fbe moreb fbe bedder,” she tried speaking around a giant bite of ice cream, giggling at the face of confusion he made with the spoon still sticking out of his mouth. 

She swallowed and scrunched her nose at the light brain freeze, “The more, the better. We’ll rinse it out in the morning and I don’t want any dry spots.”

He nodded and waited for her to take the spoon back before getting back to work, “Yes ma’am.” 

“Mmm, I like that.” 

Eskel rolled his eyes as she let down a new section, “Oh do you, now? I had no idea.” 

“Mhm!” she nodded with a proud smile, taking another bite of ice cream and earning a chuckle from him. 

She walked him through a couple rough twists and adjusting the plastic soaking cap before attempting to explain how to tie a headscarf. He was… truly awful. Somehow she ended up almost blindfolded before she just gave up and found him a video to follow. It took him a few tries, but eventually he got it the right level of snug. I 

She tried to tilt her head back to look at him but that pulled at some of her new scar tissue, so she tried another angle and another before she huffed and resorted to standing up to look at him, “Thank you Skel.”

“No problem, Bug,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her nose. 

Triss laid her head on his chest, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head, “No, I mean it. It… helps. A lot.”

He rubbed soothing circles over her back, swaying them slightly, “I’m just glad I could do something…” he took a breath like he wanted to say something more but settled for pressing a kiss to the sloppily tied scarf. She hummed and leaned into him, snaking her hands around his hips and up under his shirt to rest over his back dimples. 

Triss could have stayed there forever. 

[theangryjikooker]

Hahaha your first post had me worried, ngl, but I see and understand where you're coming from now! I just have one question: do you really not see any of JK's or JM's actions as declarative?

Not GCF in Tokyo? Not GCF in Saipan's I don't wanna lie no more I don't wanna hide no more? Not Rosebowl? (sidenote: ARMYs love to say they don't like to speculate about their relationship, but the narrative that JK sucked on JM's ear to somehow comfort JM is 100% speculative. From what I've glimpsed, speculation seems to be acceptable as long as it's in the service of explaining the gay away.) The ARMY tattoo to which JK later added a J, such that it reads ARMY JM? (Again, that's just literally what it says read from left to right, top to bottom, no speculation or mental gymnastics necessary. But it's ok to speculate that JK somehow doesn't realize that JM often refers to Jimin) I was with JK? The proud display of a hickey?

I understand caution, but there is also a long, long, loooooong tradition of closeted people living their truth in subtleties, specifically in queer coded art. When I saw MN dance company's performance for Black Swan the very first thing I thought of was the queer reading of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, so seeing JK and JM do a pas de deux very much inspired by the ballet struck me as... Very queer.

There's a great video essay by James Somerton called The Aesthetic of Gay Nuance (https://youtu.be/QxRveV0x2-o ). Yes it's about the fictional characters in Yuri on Ice, but I feel the points about queer coding and nuance are very much applicable here.

"Coming out" with a public statement to media outlets is a very western thing to do, and frankly I think it's a ridiculous and unfair burden placed on same sex couples. Jay Z and Beyonce never had to do it. Tom Holland and Zendaya never had to do it.

And I don't think JM & JK will ever do it.

But the gay nuance of it all...

At what point are we no longer being careful and simply denying them their truth?

How gay is gay enough?

BTW, I really don't mean to come off as hostile towards you, you seem like you're trying to be very measured, thoughtful, and respectful which I really appreciate. It's why I bothered asking at all.

But I'll admit, a lot of the narratives ARMYs use to explain the gay away really get under my skin. Especially when they depict JK as some kind of hapless idiot who keeps accidentally stumbling into queerness. He spent hours editing those films syncing images to lyrics, he sat for hours getting those tattoos and by the look of them, he's getting his hand tattoos retouched regularly.

I think at the very least we can safely say he knows exactly what it looks like.

Hi, anon!

I think some of my followers who happen to be Jikook supporters will be very interested in your submission, as it's perhaps the most thorough one I've received from a supporter. I'll try to answer this as best as I can, and just note that I'm really all over the place with your ask, but I’ll attempt to address all the points you made.

First of all, speculation is fine. I don't know if you meant to accuse me of something, but I've never said that speculation in and of itself is problematic. What I find problematic about it is when speculation is being passed off as fact, which I find a lot of toxic shippers tend to do, and when other Jkkrs can't see it the same way, the assumption is that those other Jkkrs don't understand anything, they're homophobic, antis, solos, not real Jkkrs, etc. I've always found that unfair and really an obnoxious way to treat Jkkrs with differing opinions because it sends a message that Jikook is factually dating. That's not the case. A person can believe they're dating, but to say that they are--full-stop--and to spread it as fact is irresponsible for shippers to do, in my opinion.

Regarding the tattoos, I answered this in a different ask, but it's worth mentioning that I don't think tattoos, which are personal to an individual, should have their meanings assumed by outsiders. I understand this is a personal preference, and some people really DGAF, but I do. I would add that it also doesn't take much mental gymnastics to say that it's J (for Jungkook) + ARMY. The fact that it's a possibility that can exist means that JM + ARMY is also rendered a possibility, and so no one can say definitively it means this or that. But like I said, tattoos are personal, so I leave that alone.

I've also never said that Jungkook and Jimin should have to come out [as gay] to make me or anyone else believe they're Real. I've mentioned this a few times already, but I don't look at them and think in terms of sexuality, like are they or are they not..? But I have said that their sexuality is their business and until they decide they want the world to know (or even if they don't), I really don't care. And I don't mean to sound flippant about homosexuality or the difficult experiences faced by the LGBTQ+ community, but I do employ the belief that homosexuality (or whatever your representation) should be treated as normally as people who are heterosexual (and also I’m not trying to deny the care that should be taken in individual circumstances because there are so many things to consider about LGBTQ+ people and their experiences that I’m unable to discuss that here without writing a whole novel in the process). That’s what I mean by I don’t care.

With the GCFs--I’m honestly not trying to downplay the potential significance of those videos and how they apply to Jimin, but if I’m being incredibly honest with you, I watched most of those purely from a creative standpoint, and to me that means Jungkook has an eye for beauty and art, knows how to tell a story, and his ear for music and sound and knowing how that plays into visual processing is ridiculous for someone who never formally studied video production. That’s how I viewed them, and I never really thought about reading too much into the lyrics because I personally find it a touch precarious in that it’s a subjective experience, and it would be just as fair for someone to say that his GCFs are a “love letter” (not necessarily romantic) to his members, depending on who you ask, and they wouldn’t be wrong either. But to the Jkkrs who think that it’s meaningful support of Jikook being Real is just as likely, but I just don’t venture one way or another. The only GCF that would give me pause is GCF Tokyo because it’s really just the two of them, but it’s not so much proof for me that they’re Real, but it’s enough for me to say, Okay... these two have a connection. To what extent, I won’t say because I don’t know for sure.

I’ve seen discussions on queer coding, and I have enough information on it to understand its importance and how that relates to Jungkook and his work. I realize the weight that it carries, especially for LGBTQ+ people who pick up on queer coding and what that means to them to see it happening in the work of people they admire. I don’t want to sound like I’m minimizing the validity of it, but I think in the context you’re presenting this, queer coding (as it’s being discussed here) seems more in reference to whether Jungkook/Jimin is or isn’t, but that doesn’t prove that Jikook is Real (to me). I think it allows for a higher probability, yes, but to me attraction is attraction; queer coding or not, Jungkook and Jimin do seem attracted to one another at the very least.

I’ve never really wanted to talk about the “hickey” because it’s one of those things that seems to rile people up in a way that honestly annoys me in the certainty that comes with it. I also think that speaking in anecdotes is a fruitless endeavor because it’s still hearsay, but in this case I think it might be worthwhile to share: I love my dog, but that little shit demon was an angry, defensive little turd when I first got him. He was found running in a really rough area, malnourished, blah blah. Anyway, as I was carrying that goblin (and the way that I was carrying him) one time in his early years, he ended up nipping my neck. It bruised, and I had to convince my then-partner I wasn’t cheating on them. And so what I’m getting at is, based only on my experience, it wasn’t that difficult for me to take Jimin’s story for what it was. He bit him, and I didn’t automatically think, That’s a hickey! Frankly, I think the strangest and most sus part of “Hickey gate” was that he even bit Jungkook at all. I don’t think anyone has to say it was or wasn’t a hickey to know that it’s weird no matter how you spin it. But do I get why a lot of Jkkrs think it was a hickey? Yes, I’d be dumb not to, but my point still stands in that Jimin might not be lying. Doesn’t make me want to side-eye him any less.

I’ve said before that the only way for me to believe that Jikook is Real is if they say, point blank, that they’re dating, or some other relevant proof that proves beyond reasonable doubt that they’re together. To me, it’s just a matter of what’s factual and what isn’t, and anything to do with Jikook--including what I say about them--is technically a belief until it isn’t. As it currently stands, for me Jikook can be Real and not, so I’m firmly in the middle. I don’t know if you’ve been poking around here for very long, but I’ve fondly referred to this as Schrödinger’s Jikook.

Perhaps an even better way to explain the stance I have is if I phrased it this way: I am a lawyer, and I need empirical evidence that Jikook is Real. So far, everything I know of Jikook is circumstantial. Given the beliefs I do have above, it’s kind of a Catch-22 because I really don’t know what the likelihood is of Jikook admitting to some kind of personal relationship in the future, but I’m also not here trying to prove or actively disprove that they’re Real. I wanted to be able to share my opinions that could reasonably exist about Jikook--especially as someone who simply enjoys the Jikook dynamic and am in for the long haul in however their lives end up--and not be condemned for it (but people like us do, and that’s what ticks me off).

Hopefully, I’ve addressed all the points you made. I’ve been composing this answer for almost 2 hours..? Definitely over an hour... basically whenever you first submitted this I’ve been typing away because I really wanted to be careful in my approach to it, but I might have missed something anyway. Thank you for the link you provided, I’ll definitely take a look at it just for my own edification!

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch7: Eight Letters, Three Words, One Meaning

Summary: Katie and Steve’s relationship is blossoming, but they’ve still not come out to the rest of the team. Well, not yet anyway…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, spiders (yeah, okay, I need a warning for those eight legged freaks) Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: More credit to my edit partner, @angrybirdcr​

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 6

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

June 2013

Katie was trying to listen, she really was, but the warmth of the June sun was lulling her to sleep, despite the fact she had only gotten up two hours or so ago. She was trying to focus on the intelligence that had come out of the Department of Damage Control, that a Warehouse in Columbia was housing a load of the alien based weapons for sale on the black market.

Maybe if she just closed her eyes….

She found herself daydreaming. About her favourite thing to day dream about. Steve. It was now five weeks since they had started dating and two weeks since they had been caught by Tony. Since then they’d spent pretty much every other evening wrapped around one another post making out. Sometimes it would just be a bit of heavy kissing, sometimes there would be a little more. Like when he had lain over her on the bed, kissing her neck, lips, chest, before slipping his hands into her panties for the first time as he’d coaxed her to completion that way before she’d returned the favour, wrapping her palm around him, bringing him off.

And then yesterday had been her birthday, which had brought her one hell of a present.

Katie had been on at him for as long as she could remember for a ride on his motorbike so, amongst other presents, Steve had Clint help him research the best helmet he could get and he’d bought her one, much to her excitement. She’d squealed and then squealed some more when he had revealed they were off out for the afternoon. He’d packed an evening picnic and taken her up to Rock Creek Park where they’d eaten subs, muffins and were now laid back on the blanket, her head resting on his chest.

“Your hair smells different…nice different…” He nuzzled his nose into it.

“Oh, it’s a different shampoo…” She grinned “It was in the hamper of ridiculously expensive toiletries and make-up that Tony sent me. Or should I say Pepper, as he will have had no idea about any of that stuff…”

“Smells of cookies.”

“It has oatmeal in so you’re not far off.” She smiled, looking up at the sky.

The pair of them stayed still, his hand straying into her hair before he broke the calm silence.

“You know, when I was a kid…me and Bucky used to play a game, spotting shapes in the clouds” he said

“Tony used to do that with me.” she smiled, shifting her head so that the back of it still lay across his chest but she could see upwards “See, there’s a dog…”

“Looks more like a cow to me…” He cocked his head to one side.

“A cow?” she snorted, “Where have you ever seen a cow look like that?”

The two of them stayed like that for another hour or so, playing shapes and making conversations before the sun began to stray behind the trees. Reluctantly Katie agreed it was probably time to go home.

“I’ve had,” she undid the strap on her baby blue and silver helmet, pulling it off with a flourish as she stepped off the bike outside her apartment, “the most amazing birthday, thank you…”

She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it doll.” He said gently as she reached into her back pocket for her key card. Smiling he dropped his hand to her waist as they walked to the elevator. When the doors opened, Katie tugged on his hand gently and led him in after her. Once in her apartment, he allowed just enough time for them to remove their jackets and for Katie to hang her new helmet in pride of place on the hooks before his lips crashed onto hers, the kisses growing deeper, and he hooked his hands round the back of her thighs and easily picked her up. She giggled, wrapping her legs round his waist, her nose brushing against his as he carried her up the stairs, dropping her gently on the bed. She spread her legs making room for him so he could settle his hips in between the space they made as she wrapped her arms round his neck, his hands gently running up the side of her ribs, pulling off the t-shirt she was wearing, cupping her face in his hands. He let out a soft moan as her hands started to slide down his chest and it was clear she had intentions of using her hands, if not her mouth as well, on him again but that wouldn’t do, not on her birthday.

“Uh-uh not tonight baby girl.” He said, gently grabbing her wrists.

She frowned and looked genuinely pissed off that he was stopping her. As she pouted at him, he simply smiled “It’s your birthday, after all.” He whispered into her mouth before setting her hands down on the pillow on either side of her head before turning his attention to her chest, sucking and biting through her bra, listening to the sounds she made right by his ear. He continued his affections downwards, pressing small kisses all the way down her body until his nose was skimming along the waistband of her jeans. She let out a groan of delight as he brought his hands up to undo them and started guiding them down. 

The idea of tasting her like this had been on his mind since she had first done it to him but he was utterly lost, with no idea on what to do next. He glanced up at her, swallowing slightly and instantly understanding that he needed encouragement, Katie reached down to tangle her fingers in his hair, raising her hips to help him remove the jeans and her underwear. She knew he had never done this before, but now, as she gently bent her knees to allow him access she heard him let out a soft moan of his own and watched him as he snuck one glance up at her and then set his mouth on her.

It took a while, her guiding him gently, telling him what she liked, what was working and what wasn’t but she didn’t really have to give him too much direction. What he lacked in skill he made up for with dogged determination and eventually, her breathy directions died in her throat and then she was moaning and writhing in pleasure as his mouth worked her over, one hand in his hair and the other gripping the sheets. Her sweet, salty tang on his tongue set every nerve in his body on edge and the more he tasted the more he wanted.

Katie could hear and feel him groaning with each lick and suck he gave her. He was aroused, really aroused and surprised to find the warm feeling across his stomach was getting harder to ignore the more he worked her. When he focused his attention back on her little bundle of nerves, licking at it before closing his lips around it and sucking it into his mouth she was done. Her body convulsed, her back arched and she let out a strangled cry, his name on her lips and it made him slightly smug to hear. Steve held her down gently, one strong arm over her small waist and as her hand gripped his hair harder and she groaned brokenly once more, he felt himself go, tipping over the edge and he shuddered gently as his own release washed over him. Katie pushed her hand into his hair, having become too sensitive, gently moving his mouth away from her. Taking the hint, he obliged, kissing his way back up her body, pressing his mouth onto hers.

“Good?” He asked breathlessly, staring at her, seeking confirmation despite the fact she lay completely and utterly undone beneath him.

“God, yes.” Her voice was gruff, as she kissed him, the fact that he could still clearly taste her on his tongue meant that she would be able to too, and the fact that she didn’t care made him shudder, though that also might have something to do with the mess he’d once again made in his pants like a horny schoolboy.

As they kissed she began to trail her hand back down his chest reaching for his buckle but he stopped her again, pulling away.

“I err….” he trailed off, dropping his head slightly embarrassed. But he needn’t have been. The fact that he’d gotten off on giving Katie what was, frankly, the best orgasm she could remember having made her grin and she cocked her head to one side as she eyed him, tipping his head up to look at her.

“Best birthday present ever.” She smirked, drawing a laugh from him before he kissed her again.

“Agent Stark!” Fury barked, jerking her awake. Damned, had she actually fallen asleep in briefing? Steve was perched on the edge of Fury’s desk, and Katie could tell he was fighting to keep a smirk off his face.

“Sorry Sir, didn’t get much sleep last night.” She avoided looking at Steve as she spoke, her mouth tugged upwards at the corners.

Besides her she heard Clint give a snigger which he hastily turned into a cough. Of course he knew about the pair of them. Him, Natasha and Evans being the only people on the team that did although Katie and Steve had both admitted they didn’t really know how much longer they could keep it clandestine.

“So as I was saying,” Fury shot Katie another look as Natasha played along, patting Clint harshly on the back. “Salaad Ali.” Fury pointed at the picture of the main man responsible for the arms ring we had been tracking over the middle East . “Do we know much about him?”

“He’s a sick bastard” Clint sat up, suddenly all business. “Came across him on an op in 2009. Apparently when he was active as part of the regime under Sadam Hussein he was tasked with taking out a Kurdish fighter cell that was stockpiling munitions. He was undercover for a month. Then one night he kidnaps a guard, peels off the skin from his right hand, completely, and wore it like a glove to gain access to their stores using the biometric scanners.”

“That’s about power.” Katie took a breath as she rose from her seat. “Mocking and goading the people who he’s stealing off. Look at me, not only did I infiltrate your organisation, I maimed your security guard in the process.”

Fury invited her to take the floor and she stood up and spoke confidently. “From what I’ve read he’s obviously an organised offender.” Steve had to smile, before she had trained as a sniper after Clint had discovered she had a natural eye for a shot, she had joined STRIKE as a Mission Analyst-slash- Target Profiler. And she was good at it. “He’s sophisticated in his approach, and is a meticulous planner.”

“You have to be to pull off the sort of crimes he has, these are big jobs.” Clint said. Katie nodded as she paced slightly, the way she always did when she was thinking.

“I also believe from the other things he has allegedly done, the murders, rapes…he’s a control freak, a sadist, type of person who will always want the last word in the argument so to speak. Therefore, if he knows someone is on to him, he won’t come quietly.” She stopped by Steve and looked at Fury, then round the room at the assembled team. “We should be prepared for a fight. And they’ll be fighting to kill, not wound.”

“Can’t the air force just blow the place up?” Rumlow asked as Steve adjusted his stance slightly, his hand’s dropping to the buckle on his belt as he studied the man before his attention turned to Fury.

“If it was that simple we would have already sent in an air strike.” The Director shook his head, pushing a button to show a map. Besides him, Steve felt Kate shift a little and he stole a glance at her to see she was concentrating on the screen,  her chin resting on the closed fist of her left hand, elbow supported on her right arm which was crossed over the front of her body. Steve watched as her eyes flicked over the details and he turned to the screen as well, immediately spotting what the problem was.  

“There’s a civilian village less than five hundred yards away.” He sighed. “That place goes up so do they.”

“Exactly.” Fury nodded.

“Not to mention those weapons are really volatile.” Katie took a deep breath. “If they have as many as we suspect, then if they go up, it’s gonna leave one hell of a hole.”

“Which is why you need take the base and clear out the weapons.” Fury nodded. “And bring Ali in, I have some questions for him before we turn him over to the Authorities.”

*****

They decided to operate under the cover of darkness, to give them the element of surprise. Once they had some form of plan- a heat scan as they hovered over the building told them how many people were in the building and once they had established that they moved in. They operated as a well-organised unit, quickly and meticulously flushing out the hostiles.

It was all going too smoothly, especially as Ali was still in the building. Capturing him was surprisingly easy, even if it was Natasha that found him. In hindsight, that should have been a warning sign they probably should have spotted. As Rumlow and Natasha were leading him away, the team already having dispatched the rest of the hostiles, Steve, Clint and Katie headed deeper into the warehouse to locate the weapons themselves when, just as they found a hidden room off the main service corridor, there was a loud clicking noise and Clint stopped dead.

“Shit.” He muttered and Katie wheeled round and he held his hand up to her. “Don’t move.”

“What…” Katie followed his gaze and swallowed when she saw his foot resting over a small metal pad on the creaking floor boards of the first floor room they were in.

“Yeah…we have a problem.” Clint sighed, looking at her then to the Captain “Should have seen that one coming.”

He’s the type of guy that will want the last laugh, so if he knows someone is on to him, he aint coming quietly

Steve scanned the floor and spotted another trigger a few feet away from Katie. Pulling her to the left away from it he looked around the room.

“What’s going on?” Rumlow asked over the coms.

“The son of a bitch has the place rigged.” Clint wiped his brow “ I’ve triggered some kind of sensor pad.”

“If he’s laying traps in here then the weapons have to be nearby…” Steve said, as Katie dropped to her hands and knees, torch shining through the dirty, well-worn floorboards.

“The device has to be under here…” she said, and she began to follow the wire across the floor, keeping her eyes peeled for more booby-traps, as Steve carefully made his way into a small room off to their right avoiding another trigger as he went. His eyes scanned the various crates of the familiar shining metal weapons and he sighed.

“Found the jackpot…”

“So have I.” Katie said, stopping crawling as the wire ended. She could just about make out the metal box, a red light flashing ominously through the gaps.

“Ok, we’re coming to you.” Rumlow spoke again

“No!” Steve hastily turned and walked back into the main room. “We don’t know how many of these he has laid around the place. Wait for my instructions.”

He glanced over at Clint who was stood, motionless, his eyes focussed on his foot.

“Barton, you okay?”

“Peachy, Cap” he said, looking up “Guess my Hawk eyes let me down”

“Happens to the best of us.” Steve looked at him as Katie stood up, pointing to her foot.

“It’s under there.”

“How big is it?” Steve asked.

“It doesn’t matter how big”. She said gently “It explodes then those weapons go up…” She trailed off.

And Clint dies no matter what, and as they wouldn’t ever leave a man behind, so did they.

"We need to start evacuating civilians.” Steve took a deep breath, “Rumlow…”

“We can start clearing the village but how many we’ll clear before-“

“Do what you can.” Steve cut him off. “Romanoff, have a chat with our prisoner, see if you can get him to talk, tell us how we turn this thing off”

“Yeah, not gonna happen.” She replied, not a trace of her usual biting sarcasm in her voice. “He’s out cold. Suddenly decided he didn’t fancy being captured after all and got a bit rough on the way up. I had to take him out.”

“Shit.” Katie muttered as Steve let out a long sigh, turning to face her as she stood, thinking something over. It wasn’t a great idea, but was the only chance they really had. So she decided to roll with it.

“Can you help me get the floor boards up?”

“Won’t that disturb the bomb?” He asked, frowning a little.

“Not if you do it here.” she moved about six foot to her left. “I can get underneath, see if I can disable it.”

Steve looked at her, then to Clint before sighing. It didn’t look like they had a choice.

“Alright.”

A minute later, Vibranium shield and steel knives had worked their magic as Katie and Steve had prised a space big enough for Katie to lower herself into, head first, torch in her mouth, phone held in front of her, on her stomach. She crawled over to the bomb and looked at it.

“It’s on a fucking timer too!” she sighed, swallowing as the timer had less than 5 minutes on it.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“Long enough…” she said, deciding not to tell them. She snapped a photo before dropping the torch to the boards beneath her so that it illuminated the dark space in front of her.

“Someone patch me through to Lawson …now.” she spoke

Less than forty seconds later Lawson’s British accent hit her ear.

“Nova.” he said.

“We have a situation.” She spoke calmly, although she was anything but. She didn’t like tight spaces at the best of times and there was a huge spider sitting to her right. And she fucking hated spiders. And she was facing a bomb, now with three minutes left on the clock. Swallowing her fear she sent the photo to Lawson’s computer, her hands shaking “Hawkeye triggered this, can we disarm it?”

A moment’s pause.

“Yeah, we can. I can talk you through this…”

Steve swallowed and looked at Clint, the man seemed surprisingly calm considering, but then he was used to staying still for long periods of time on stakeouts. He gave Steve a slight shrug and the Captain looked back to the hole Katie had shimmied into.

“You’re gonna need a knife or something sharp to cut the wires”

“Got it.” Katie wriggle to free the standard issue Swiss Army Knife which contained every single gadget known to man from her thigh pocket.

“Ok so first thing is first, you’re going to need to lift it out slightly to get to the wires ok. There should be 3…blue, white and red….but this is important Stark so listen.”

“Listening”

“The blue wire has to remain intact and in contact with the sensor under Hawkeye’s foot. So don’t cut it or pull it ok?”

“Don’t pull or cut blue, right.”

“You need to gently lift it out towards you, watching that blue wire, and turn it to the side so you can see the red and white wires…”

Taking a deep breath, with trembling hands she gently reached out and slowly, carefully turned the bomb to the side, letting out a small squeak of fear as the huge black spider moved closer.

“You okay?” Steve asked, hearing her noise.

“There’s a spider in here the size of a fucking Chihuahua.” Her voice was a slightly higher pitch than normal. Steve sighed, any other time her fear of spiders would amuse him. Not now.

“It’s gonna be more scared of you than you are of it.” He tried to placate her, but as he spoke he knew that was utter bullshit.

“ Lawson…I’ve got it…what now?”

“Cut the white wire first and then the red.”

Katie took a deep breath, her hands really where shaking now, and she took a deep breath trying to focus, ignoring the timer which was now counting down from one minute thirty. She reached out with her left to hold the white still and her right clutched the knife as she went to work. The wire was tough but in 3 cuts it was severed. She moved to do the same to the red, but on the third cut the knife slipped and slashed into the palm of her left.

She let out a yell of pain. “Shit”

“Katie?” Steve dropped to his knees, trying to see into the space but all he could see was her back.

“My hand slipped, I’m okay.” She assured him. Taking another breath she took another three slashes at the wire and eventually it gave. The light on the bomb went out and the timer stopped on twenty-five seconds.

“Boom.” She exhaled, her head dropping in relief, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Nice work Nova.” Lawson let out a breath.

Katie swallowed, “Thanks Lawson…errr boys, a little help?”

Steve moved first as she shuffled backwards and managed to get one strong arm round her waist and gently she folded herself up so that he could lift her out.

“You alright?” He asked and she nodded, breathing heavily, but he could see from the tears in her eyes she wasn’t. Before he could say anything, Clint had pulled her into a hug as Steve instructed the team to move in for extraction of the weapons.

“Thanks Nova.” Clint said as she stepped back.

Steve gently moved towards her and turned her to face him, “It’s okay, Doll, you did it.”

“Guess I did.” Katie’s breathing was still deep as the magnitude of what just happened overwhelmed her. She began to shake and Steve simply wrapped her in his large arms and she pressed her face into his Kevlar clad chest and he rest his chin on her head, looking at Clint who gave him a little jerk of the head, before he wandered out into the corridor to find the team.

Steve pulled back and gently took her hand, looking at the place her knife had gashed through the leather on her palm gloves. It looked fairly superficial, the leather having protected her in the main “That doesn’t look too deep but we’ll get the medic to look at it.”

Katie couldn’t feel it. She was numb, numb from how close that bomb had been from going up.

“Seconds…” she said, swallowing “Seconds, that’s it, we were seconds away from going up.”

“Hey…” Steve moved back slightly so he could look at his girl. “That doesn’t matter now, you stopped it. Everyone’s okay.”

The blood was pounding in her ears as she looked up at his helmet clad face, his eyes warm as they locked onto hers. She was starting to lose it, and if she didn’t find a way to ground herself she knew she was going to break down into sobs, and she didn’t want that. Not on a mission. Steve watched as she reached up to undo the clasp at the side of his chin strap and before he could say anything, although he really didn’t have anything to say, she’d pulled his helmet off. She looked at him, hair tousled, bottom half of his face slightly grubby compared to the top.

“Baby,” he said quietly but his words died as she ran her non-injured hand up the side of his jaw and then leaned up, catching his lips, hand on the back of his neck. Steve was surprised, but didn’t push her away, he never could. His arms instinctively pulled her closer as he kissed her back, everything else zoning out, until they heard footsteps and a voice which was slightly amused.

“Ok, nothing to see here.” Clint spoke. Steve instantly pulled back and looked over Katie’s head at the assembled team of STRIKE agents, Rumlow, Rollins, Evans and Nat stood at the front. Rumlow’s face was a picture and Steve, despite the fact he was kind of embarrassed about being caught snogging his girl in the middle of a mission, felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

My girl, asshole.

“Told you Rumlow.” Rollins was next to speak as Katie closed her eyes and pressed her forehead into Steve’s chest, the moment of adrenaline fuelled passion ebbed away and was replaced by a sudden worry of her effectively outing them without asking him first.

“Fuck me sideways.” Rumlow muttered “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Rumlow, you’re an idiot.” Lawson’s voice hit their ears “I aint even there and even I could see that a mile off. Mate, Fury only has one eye and I bet he could see it all the way from DC.”

Steve let out an exasperated sigh, but his arms didn’t let go of his precious charge as he issued an instruction. “Alright, wrap it up. Let’s get those weapons and move it out.”

His grip on Katie released as the team bustled into the room and he stopped to pick up both their helmets, handing Katie hers.

“I’m sorry…” she stuttered. “I didn’t mean to do that, I didn’t know they’d see.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” He spoke gently, brushing her face with his gloved palm

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” He shook his head as she took her helmet off him with an air of surprise. “I mean they had to find out eventually, right. Maybe it isn’t exactly how I would have chosen to do it but…”

Katie snorted “Better or worse than being caught in the kitchen?”

He gave a small laugh “Undecided. Come on, let’s help them pack up those weapons and we can go home.”

******

The two of them were careful to keep a distance for the rest of the mission and trip home, a professional front was imperative to Steve and Katie was also keen to keep it that way too. She didn’t want anyone saying that either of them were impartial or unable to keep themselves objective. That said, on the flight home they took the inevitable teasing that naturally was always going to come their way when the team found out that its Captain and Sniper were together on the chin. It was all well natured though, and there were no smutty remarks beyond Evans asking Katie if she’d had her bed reinforced now she was sharing it with a super-soldier. In response, she hit him square in the face with a well-aimed granola bar, as Steve flushed at the back of the jet when he overheard. The Captain’s sharp eyes, however, clocked that one person who wasn’t joining in the joking and teasing was Rumlow. He looked like he’d been slapped in the face, and all Steve could do was hope he wasn’t going to be a complete prick going forward.

At the debrief Fury was pleased they had gotten a result and surprised the entire team by handing Steve a wad of notes and instructing them to go celebrate a job well done, but the wink he gave the Captain as he left the room before looking at Katie in that way he did, with a smirk on his face left them both in no uncertainty that he knew what had gone down.

The team hit their favoured bar, Loris. Katie and Steve sat together, Steve casually resting his arm round the back of the bench they sat on, as the drinks flowed, food arrived and Clint and Rumlow organised a pool tournament. Pool was one thing, along with art, that Steve had been pretty good at before he got the serum so after a bit of coaxing he joined in, eventually winning after thrashing Lawson in the final. Declining the money, he told Clint to use it to get the team another round of drinks, but they were drinks he had no intention of partaking in. He wanted to take his girl home because he could tell she was still a little shaken from the day’s events.

He wasn’t wrong. Whilst she had sat and eaten and drinking, she wasn’t really listening. The sight of that bomb timer in front of her eyes, and that fucking spider… she gave an involuntary shudder and looked up to see the tournament was now over and Steve was making his way to the table she was sat at, Natasha nodding to him as she headed to the bar.

He dropped onto the seat next to her, leaned forward and whispered “Wanna get out of here?”

She looked around, glancing over at the bar where Rumlow and Rollins were chatting up a group of girls. Clint and Natasha were sat a few seats down, in discussion with Lawson about something whilst Evans was leaning on the bar talking to a few of the other STRIKE team. She nodded. Steve stood up, took her hand and pulled her off the bench, the pair of them making their exit quickly and quietly, jumping into a perfectly timed free cab.

They sat in silence, his thumb skating over the back of her knuckles on the short ride home, his hand releasing hers only when he had to pay the driver. He caught up with her inside the lobby, just as the elevator door was opening and he stepped in behind her, her breath catching as he dropped his head, nose nuzzling into the side of her neck below her ear before he placed a single, soft kiss on her neck. Her arousal was obvious as she bit her bottom lip and let her eyes fall closed as his lips grazed her neck a bit higher. Then higher still until they placed a chaste kiss on her jawline, and that was all she could take.

She turned round, eyes dark with lust and lips met his gently at first before the kiss grew more urgent and she brought her hands up to his face, sliding them back to tangle her fingers into his hair. The way she did that set every one of his nerves on edge and he found himself pressing closer and moved quickly so that he had her pinned against the metal wall of the elevator. His left hand gripped her hip tight, his right winding its way into her hair giving a gentle tug as he pressed his lips against hers, causing the kiss to deepen, a small whimper escaping her mouth. The doors opened to the elevator, and the two of them stumbled out, lips locked, her hands clawing at his hair still, the pair groaning as they went.

His lips started to stray, kissing the corners of her mouth, dipping down to her jaw and neck but she always pulled his face back to hers, kissing him encouragingly, and he knew there and then that there was only one way this was going to end. Which right now was absolutely fine with him, but he needed to know it was with her too. He pulled away and looked down at her, his eyes bouncing between hers.

“You sure?” He whispered, wetting his lips slightly.

“Stevie…” she replied, her voice barely audible over her deep breathing. “Shut up and take me to bed.”

And he knew then he was a goner.

He surged forward again, spinning them both round, pinning her to the panel in the wall which hid the closed elevator doors with his body. His mouth trailed down to her neck, softly kissing, drawing a sigh from her at the sensation as he continued to skate his mouth gently across her collarbone which was exposed on one side due to the slouching top she was wearing. His hands reached down to her thighs and he effortlessly hoisted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, nuzzling into his neck before kissing across his jawline and his cheek as he carried her across the apartment and up the stairs. He was aware vaguely of two small thuds as she shucked off her boots as they went, before he reached the bedroom his lips back on hers, urgently kissing her as he carried her inside, kicking the door shut before he crossed the room and gently fell forwards, depositing them both onto the bed.

His lips claimed hers again, a moan of his own escaping into her mouth and his hands strayed to the bottom of her top. She nodded eagerly, hands going to run through his hair, before she shifted and held her arms up so that he could pull the top over her head. He tossed it to the floor as she reached for his before he pulled back, allowing her to slide it up and over his head, both of them smiling into the kiss as he settled back down on top of her, his hand running up the side of her torso.

She pulled away from him this time and he watched as her eyes followed her hands downwards before she looked back up at him as her fingers gently grazed his stomach, lingering there before moving down to his jeans. He bucked at the touch as she slowly undid his belt, taking her time as she locked her eyes onto his again, lust had turned into softness as she looked at him. He stared right back at her, her eyes reminding him of emeralds, deep green, speckled with dots of brown, the slight ring of amber surrounding her pupil reminded him of the sun. Telling him of the power she exuded over him and the warmth she brought to his life.

He was aware that his breathing had quickened and he let out a low growl before he kissed her, harder and his hands moved down to her jeans, deftly undoing the button at the front. He moved, pulling them down in one go over her legs before he stood slightly, ridding himself of his, the sensation of finally being free was a God send. Katie sat up, eyes trained on him and he swallowed thickly as she undid her bra. He took a second to take her in, he loved her tits, he’d always had a thing for a good “rack” as Bucky put it, and she was a sight to behold. All soft pink curves and rose bud nipples. He was achingly hard now, and he needed to do something about it. In a flash he was on her again, mouth hungrily covered hers as his hands trailed up her legs, to her hips, up the side of her body and then onto her breasts teasing gently. She groaned, rolling her head back on the pillow at the sensation, her hips bucking upwards.

“Fuck.” He seethed out at the feeling of her grinding up against his rock hard crotch, and he nuzzled at her neck with his nose again. She dragged her fingers up his spine as he buried his face in the side of her neck working at the pulse spot beneath her ear, the little noises of pleasure she was making were music in his ear. Her hips moved again and he decided to help her out, his hand moving down and dropping below the waistband of her panties making her gasp as his fingers worked her. She was warm, wet, and he loved the fact he had this effect on her.

Her hips began to move in time with his motions, groans falling from her lips at the sensations lancing through her body as he nipped slightly at her neck and then moved his mouth to her chest, taking her right nipple in. Her groans were growing louder now and Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to be in her, surrounded by her, feel her. His hands both shot to the side of her panties, completely forgetting his strength and he heard them tear. He dropped his forehead onto her sternum, letting out a groan at his stupidity before he heard a laugh, his head shooting up in surprise at the fact she found it funny.

“I’m sorry…” he blurted out as she continued to giggle.

“You literally just ripped my pants off”

“Guess I forgot my own strength.” he offered as explanation, looking at her, an apologetic look on his face.

“You know they were Victoria Secrets?” She quipped, looking at him. Steve had no idea what that meant, but he assumed it was some kind of expensive lingerie shop. A sudden joke popped into his head and before he could stop himself he shot it out.

“Sucks to be Victoria then.” and this made her laugh even more.

Eventually their laughter died down, and they shared another quick glance, and then her lips were back on his, still smiling as she flipped the waistband of his boxers down, and he shimmied out of them, before settling into the space in between her hips. She moved underneath him, telling him exactly what she wanted and he was so ready to oblige. He kissed her hard, his right hand tangling into her left as she reached down with her right, grasping him in her hand causing him to hiss slightly. She guided him to where she wanted him and he gently pushed into her. The feeling caused both of them to gasp and groan, Katie leaning back against the pillows as he stretched her, his girth and length filling her completely.

“God,” Steve breathed, temporarily paralysed by the way her tightness gripped him. His arms shook and he dropped down to his elbows, the hand around hers tightening as his entire body felt coiled tight like snake ready to strike.

The stillness gave Katie time to adjust to his size, but one she had she was aching for him to move, needing to feel him. She whimpered a little, her fingers digging into his lower back urging him on. “Stevie, please?”

He started moving his hips, slowly at first, building up speed as he gained more confidence, their hips rubbing together with every thrust. With every rock into her, moans of delight and pure pleasure filled his ear as his head rest in the crook of her neck, every inch of their bodies pressed as close as they could get. When she groaned his name, Stevie, the pet name that sounded so much sweeter coming from her, it was like a hot wire to his groin and he felt the tell-tale heat striking across his lower stomach he groaned again, wanting to hold out longer, wanting to get her there first. He brought his lips back to hers plunging his tongue into her mouth and she dug the tips of her nails into his back and he was completely overwhelmed by her. Not the sex, but her.

“Katie, I’m not sure how long I’m gonna…” He began to try and explain but then groaned again as she pushed up against him, his head dropping slightly as he struggled to fight it.

“Let me see you.” she said, nudging his nose with hers, her voice ragged. “Wanna see you let go baby…”

At her words he groaned and raised his head to look at her, her eyes soft and shining. He managed a few more shallow thrusts before he lost himself, stiffening and groaning as Katie watched him, his lips slightly parted as he bit his bottom lip, and then the eyes that had been locked on hers fluttered shut before he pitched forward to bury his face into her neck.

She held him running a hand through his hair as a final shudder ran down his body, the waves of pleasure finally began to subside. Her own heart was pounding with affection for her man. She didn’t particularly care that she hadn’t gotten off, nor did she care that it hadn’t lasted very long either, but he had made her feel good. He took his time, had tenderly caressed and loved every part of her, had appreciated her in a way no one else had before.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, “You didn’t even – I’m sorry.” He said again still kicking himself.

“Steve, stop. Just enjoy the moment. Please.” She whispered, kissing his temple.

Steve sighed as dropped his head to her chest, still inside her, as she ran her hand through his hair and down his neck. He stayed still for a while before he rolled off her and onto his back, pulling her with him so she could lie her head across his chest.

“It doesn’t matter you know” she spoke again, hand running through the soft smattering of dark blond and light brown hair on his chest “It was perfect because I was with you.”

“I just wish it had lasted longer.” he said, her words like a talisman in his chest as he cradled her close.

“It didn’t need to.” she looked up at him and felt her cheeks burning. She wanted to explain to him, exactly how she felt, but wasn’t sure she could find the words. She dropped her gaze from his face and he gently reached out with his spare hand.

“What is it?” HHhe asked, gently reaching out to tilt her face up to look at him.

“Just…no one’s ever made me feel like that, like this before” she said gently, her eyes shining. “You were so soft and gentle and…well I don’t think I’ve ever felt so wanted…” she trailed off, shrugging.

The band tightened across his chest slightly, how could anyone not want her? Gently he dropped a kiss to her lips.

“I like being your first.” he said, and she smiled.

They lay still for a while, his fingers gently combing through her soft hair before an idea suddenly hit him and it made him swallow nervously.

“We err…we didn’t… you know, use any…protection?” he said, stilling and Katie turned her head up to look at him.

“I got that covered, don’t worry…”

“How?” he frowned, confusion filling his features.

“Stuff has moved on since the 40s Steve.” she said, simply.

Her head returned to its spot on his chest and she gave a soft yawn. He dropped a kiss to her head and closed his eyes, pulling her closer, relishing the feel of her skin against his as their legs tangled together, the pair of them satiated and completely at peace

****

He was aware of her moving. He had his face pressed into the back of her hair, breathing in her gorgeous smell, revelling in her warmth and softness as her bare back was pressed to his chest, his arm wrapping around her, laying just under her breasts. It was all he could do not to moan as she untangled herself and he cracked an eye open, watching her bare ass and back as she made her way into the en-suite. Smiling softly through his tiredness he rolled onto his back, one hand straying to his hair as he lay still. Eventually he heard her make her way back into the room and felt the bed dip again. He could feel her eyes on him, simply watching. And it was all he could do to keep the smirk off his face.

“You get a good look?” he mumbled, shifting slightly, voice thick from sleep, eyes still closed.

“Sorry…” she said softly and he felt her finger gently tracing his jaw. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Well he was awake now, her touch igniting that desire once more. He shifted onto his side and cracked one eye open, taking in her appearance. Her long hair was cascading in slightly tangled waves round her face, and she looked absolutely stunning.

“I can think of worse things to wake up to.” he said honestly before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She responded willingly, his hand dropping to her hip before moving to her back and pulling her closer to him, the other arm snaking under her neck and angling her head to deepen the kiss. He rolled her over onto her back, one leg positioning itself between hers and he dropped his lips to her neck, nipping at that magical spot again. She let out a soft moan before she sat up slightly, pushing on his shoulders. It was just a hard enough shove to make him understand she wanted him lay on his back, and he was more than happy to let her take control this time. As she straddled him his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her face down to kiss him and as he did so she reached down between them, taking him in her hand and stroking him into full hardness which didn’t take much. He groaned but didn’t release her mouth as she adjusted position to take him in.

Slowly she slid down onto him, groaning into the kiss as she stayed pressed against him, and she began to work herself on top of him. She was quick to find a rhythm and her mouth fell open against his lips and she let out a shaky moan before sitting up fully.

This was another first for him and the sight of her on top, illuminated by the early morning sun sneaking in through her curtains was divine. He wanted to touch her, so he did, bringing her hands up to run them up her sides until his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs running over her nipples as she let out another moan. As she picked up the pace his hands went to her hips, pulling her down onto him harder, thrusting upwards to meet her for every move she made. She continued to move, quickening, her eyes never leaving his.

“Steve…”she groaned, as he tilted his hips up harder and he let out a groan himself, increasingly determined to get her there this time. As he felt himself beginning to tip over the edge, his hand moved from her hip to stroke at that spot between her legs and that did it. He felt her tense up and tighten around him, crying out loudly and unbridled as she shook. The sight of her coming undone on top of him, her cheeks flushed, lips pink, mouth open in a now silent scream, was simply incredible and quite possibly the single most exquisite thing he had ever seen. All of that, coupled with the force of her heat tightening even more made him lose himself again.

“Fuck, Doll…” the curse fell from his lips as he thrust upwards, before he spilled himself inside her again, the wave of pleasure deeper than anything he’d felt before. Katie collapsed forward onto his chest, her tremors subsided, both of them panting. He held her close, his fingers running up and down her spine as she let out a soft “hum” of contentment and he sat up, wanting to see her face to face. Still cradling her close he pushed the hair that had fallen over her face back behind her ears and she reached up, running her hands through his, causing him to close his eyes at the sensation of her nails on his scalp.

When he opened them again and looked at her something flashed in her eyes as the slight gleam of light through the curtains caught her face. She was looking at him, features soft, almost as if she was seeing him for the first time. His breath quickened slightly and he knew then that he was head over heels in love with her. No one had come close to ever making him feel like this and as he gazed at her, seeing the adoration in her eyes, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Katie,” he said quietly, almost nervously, as he pulled her closer, his nose rubbing up against hers, “I love you.”

She didn’t hesitate to reply, she didn’t need to. If she was honest she’d loved him now way before they’d even started any of this. So without missing a single beat, she spoke in return as their noses continued their lazy dance, the words coming easily.

“I love you too, Stevie.”

Her reply lit a fire in his chest and he kissed her softly, grinning like a total idiot as she was smiling too, the kisses growing softer and shorter until she pulled away completely, her hand on his cheek, her eyelids heavy. He glanced at the clock, it was little past 6 and they could sleep in today. He had no desire to run, no desire to leave at all, so he set them both and slid a hand under her neck and pulled her to him, chest pressing into her back. He swept her hair to one side and placed a soft kiss on the back of her neck before he pulled the covers back up over them and closed his eyes.

Right there Steve would have challenged any man on the planet to prove they were happier than him.

**** O/S Phobias

Chapter 8

**Original Posting**

[mj-spooks]

Ok, so now you got me curious, it's been several years since I last watched The Zeppo, but your rant on it and the library/research scenes made me want to hear your rant about, if I understood correctly, Cordelia (which, solid choice for a favorite character, she took me a bit to love, but she's definitely up there in my list)

Okay, so. Firstly, Cordy is absolutely top tier quality Buffy character, she is absolutely my favorite of the OG cast, second only to Spike and Lorne in terms of favorite ever, and all around an absolute role model.

And the way she gets treated after her and Xander break up is fucking appalling.

This is gonna be a long one, y'all. Like, super long.

For a refresher, The Zeppo opens up with Xander being awkward and clumsy and making a fool of himself, because he's Xander and that's kind of what he does. If they would've let his entire characterization be this I would have liked him infinitely more than I do. Unfortunately instead his character traits also include "obsessed with Buffy even when other way out of his league girls are literally right fucking there making eyes at him for some ungodly reason" and "withholds information from Buffy and lectures her as he sees fit even though she's, you know, the chosen one, and he's an idiot teenage boy who doesn't in fact know better than her," and the ever so wonderful "super irrationally prejudiced against allies of a demonic nature, except when he's fucking them because then it's okay I guess"

I want to like Xander, okay, because when he's good he's really good, and a lot of his character flaws are very #relatable. I have many high school memories that make me feel like a Xander in hindsight.

But gods, he makes it impossible to like him.

Cordelia, on the other hand, is a character who at first is extremely easy to hate, indeed, designed to be hated, but eventually grows to be like, just. The best. Alright. When I did my most recent rewatch of S1, I actually found I liked her from the jump, in that "I now have the wisdom to understand why she was like that and frankly I support her except when she's mean to Willow specifically" kind of way. But also, Willow was friends with Jesse and Jesse like, openly and very grossly perved on Cordy, so even then I'm like "alright the bullying is a bit much but I see why y'all have Issues." Point being, look, yes, she's a Queen Bee Mean Girl archetype, but she's also doing a pretty good job at Faking It Til She Makes It, and that's admirable. High school sucks, C. I get it.

So, in S2, Cordy's in danger and Xander makes with the saveage, and that makes her see him kind of differently. Then we get the high school foe yay, and they have their whole secret relationship turned real relationship, and it's actually really good? He's not good enough for her but like, her being with him humanizes her, makes her more likeable because she's not as shallow, and she also brings out the best in him in a lot of ways. Go Fish is a ridiculous episode but I love it specifically for the bit where she sees a Fishman in the pool, thinks it's Xander, and monologues about how she still cares about him even though he's a fish monster. She's gonna make it work with Fish!Xander, by God, somehow someway. Like, how fucking sweet was that?

They were good together. Like, legitimately good.

And then he cheats on her with Willow.

This plotline... irritated me for many reasons. It was so unnecessary. The only good thing we got out of it was Anya. And honestly, Anya was just the replacement for Cordy after she moved to LA to be on Angel. Much as I love Anya, because I do, she's my next favorite after Cordy, she's still just C's replacement from a narrative perspective, filling in much the same niche. So, I'm not a fan of the "cheating Willow and Xander break Oz and Cordy's hearts" thing. It's dumb and bad and I hate it.

And then. Then! Cordy tries to slips back into her Mean Girl role to cope with the fallout of being cheated on by Xander Harris, who she committed social suicide to be with. And the show frames this as bad? It makes it out like she's the bad guy? Like she's an asshole?

Fuck that!

Cordelia gave up everything she had ever been and everything she'd ever known and all the friends she'd ever had to date this guy, and he cheated on her, with his best friend that he could have had at literally any point because she was in love with him for literal! years! And she lost her whole world, basically, because she's been hanging out with Xander and Xander's friends in light of having ostracized herself from her own, and most of her time was spent either hanging out with them or doing Scooby stuff with them. Xander cheated on her with Willow, and Buffy is friends with both of them, so they get Buffy in the divorce (which, I have to say, really bugs me? I feel like Buffy should have at least been a little more supportive of Cordy, even if Cordy didn't take it. Ask to go to the Bronze, just the two of them, offer to hang out, etc). So Cordy has nothing, and they wanna demonize (hah) her for trying to regain her previous standing? Hell, no.

And then! The Zeppo happens, and when Xander does something dumb at the start, Cordelia is catty at him, extremely righteously so, and we're supposed to feel bad for Xander? Xander who cheated? Xander who basically ruined her life as far as she was concerned? The episode, otherwise a perfectly good episode that I absolutely love, both begins and ends with Cordelia dishing out some Grade A snark to him, which she absolutely deserves to get to do! And when, at the end, he just kind of smiles smugly and shrugs it off, and she's left gaping at him like "how dare he?!", we're supposed to be happy for him!

No! I want Cordy to tear him to shreds, metaphorically. Maybe literally! The fact that her Vengeance Wish sucked so much is a total ripoff and I for one think she deserves a re-do.

All hail Queen C.

[css1992]

could u do more high school au's pls? I was thinking maybe rich popular peter who seems untouchable and then grungy tony who just doesnt care for appearances and hes been pining after peter his whole school life

+

could u make it so that tony is rich and everyone knows it but he just doesn't care about his money and doesnt act rich so it's one of those things that u know but dont acknowledge. also if tony's daddy issues made an appearance id be so happy ty.

I’m so sorry for the delay, but I really do hope this scratches your itch! 

***

He had that sort of beauty that almost hurt to look at. So pure and soft. Pink cheeks, small eyes that squinted when he laughed – which was often –; brown, wavy hair, so shiny and silky-looking; thin, pink lips, always stretched in a smile. He had the most beautiful smile Tony had ever seen, too. Honest and wide, happy.

He was never alone. Of course he wasn’t. He was too magnetic, there were always people drawn to his light, following him around, laughing at his jokes, making him laugh in return. Everyone seemed to want a piece of him, a scrap of his attention. And he, being the lovely human being that he was, made room for anyone who wished to bask in his light.

Jocks liked him. Peter was great at team sports, he was light on his feet and good with his hands. He wasn’t in any teams, though, claimed he didn’t have the time, but he was always picked first in P.E. group activities. Tony knew, watched him at practice way too often – from a distance, of course, as he did his stretches and sit-ups with Rhodes.

Nerds liked him, too. He was really smart, an asset to the Decathlon team, and was always willing to help anyone having trouble in class. Even the weirdos from drama club, glee club and the school band loved him – he never made fun of them, on the contrary, he was always very vocal about how talented they were and how he wished he could be a part of their clubs, too.

Girls swooned at him. He was kind and sweet, a good listener, and gorgeous. Guys weren’t immune to his charms, either. The ones Tony knew for a fact that were gay or bi didn’t even try to pretend they didn’t watch him when he walked down the halls, but even supposedly straight guys, like Steve Rogers, sneaked a peek now and then, face flushed, if he was wearing specially tight jeans.

Tony was jealous of all those people, but he learned to deal with it. He’d been, well, admiring him from a distance for years. He was used to seeing people make passes at him, ask him out. Peter was discreet, though. If he ever dated anyone, nobody ever heard anything about it. He was a mystery, Tony wasn’t even sure if he was gay, straight, bi or whatever – there were rumors that he had made out with Wade Wilson in freshman year, but neither of them confirmed or denied it. Tony hated the guy anyway.

“If you keep staring, people are gonna know you’re in love and not actually dead inside,” Rhodey spoke up right next to him, taking a huge bite of his tuna sandwich. Tony averted his gaze from Peter’s table for a minute and looked at his friend, annoyed. “It’s gonna ruin your whole aesthetic.”

“Very funny,” He rolled his eyes and looked back at Peter. There were so many people around him he could barely catch a glimpse of his smile, which was annoying.

His dad’s company, Parker Innovations, had just released a new phone a few weeks earlier, it was ridiculous how many people thought they could get one for free if they kissed his ass hard enough. At least Tony didn’t have to endure that kind of nonsense anymore. People in that school learned very early on that even though he was related to Howard Stark, he wanted nothing to do with the guy – or his company, or his money. They also learned sucking up to him did nothing but annoy him, so they kind of just forgot he existed over time and he blended right in with everyone else – a blessing in its own right.

“Rhodey is right, you’re drooling, it’s a little embarrassing,” Natasha looked at him with boredom as she nibbled on her fries. “You should just ask him out, you’ve been pining for ages.”

“I’m not pining,” he huffed, irritated, and the redhead smirked, raising a perfectly manicured brow.

“Right, yearning might be more accurate. Bruce?” She glanced at their other friend who scratched his chin, pretending to think about it.

“I think obsessing sounds more like it. Rhodey?”  

“Fuck you guys,” he barked before they could keep the game going, and all three laughed at him. Someone got up from Peter’s table and he caught a glimpse of his beautiful face, their eyes made contact for half a second and Tony looked away.

“No, but seriously, Tones. Just go talk to him, he’s a great guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t be an ass about it.” Bruce adjusted his glasses and said that like it was simple. Like he would have the guts to do it if he was in Tony’s position – he wouldn’t, he’d pined for Thor, an exchange student, for a year, and never worked up the courage to ask him out. The guy went back to Norway or whatever and Bruce never even said hi to him.

“I know, of course he wouldn’t, but I don’t wanna be one of those people begging for his attention, just look at that.” He pointed at the little crowd around him, people were almost literally fighting for his attention, the poor guy could barely finish his lunch. “It’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not them,” Natasha said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Tony frowned.

“How am I different?”

“You’re a certified genius, you and him have similar interests and you look hot in a ‘I’m gonna fuck  you raw in the back of my car’ kinda way. I don’t know, maybe he’s into that.” The redhead shrugged, again, saying all that like it was obvious and an unquestionable truth.

“Yeah, right, sounds just like him,” Tony scoffed.

Peter was perfect in so many ways – perfect face, perfect body, perfect grades, Tony was sure he pooped out candy or something – of course he wouldn’t go for a guy like him. He had a bad reputation, he was in detention more often than not and people in general considered him an asshole – all because he didn’t partake in their little games of social climbing or whatever. No, Peter wouldn’t go for his grungy ass. He’d probably go for all American, apple pie, boy-next-door Steve Rogers.

“No, she’s right, I’ve seen him looking at you several times.” Bruce pointed out, not for the first time, and Tony scoffed.

“Oh, yeah? When?”

“AP chemistry class. I’m his lab partner, remember?” How could Tony forget? As Mr. Erskine called out their names, Tony prayed to a God he didn’t even believe in that he’d be paired up with Peter, but no such luck. “He stares at you whenever he has a chance or an excuse. You know, when you blow things up, for example.”

“Yeah, which is why he must stare, he must be afraid for his life.” Tony hated to admit that he was way more prone to causing explosive accidents when Peter was in the room. It was fucking embarrassing.

He sighed, drinking the last of his coke. No matter what his friends said, he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Peter. He was… Untouchable. He was too good for him, Tony wasn’t even sure he’d want to taint him if he had a chance –  no, scratch that, he definitely would.

He chose to watch him from afar, allowing himself a few fantasies and daydreams. He had this really stupid and lame one, where he walked up to Peter in the hall, people just parted to let him through, then he gave him his trademark, lopsided grin and asked him out. Peter smiled brightly up at him, holding his books to his chest, cheeks flushed, eyelashes fluttering as he whispered a shy “yes” and leaned up to kiss him. Yeah. That was the whole fantasy.

Peter was so untouchable to him that he didn’t even dare to dream further than that. Of course when he was alone in his room, late at night, relieving himself, a few… less pure fantasies popped up unsolicited, but he felt so guilty then, dirty even, like he was disrespecting him somehow. It was all very confusing, but he still came, shamefully, to the thought of his beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure as dream-Tony fucked him.

The bell rang and everyone hurried to get to their next period, Peter was no different, he gathered his things and stood up, looking around the cafeteria like he was looking for someone. Their eyes met again for a second, but Tony quickly looked away, grabbing his backpack in a hurry to leave.

It was Thursday, the worst day of the week for him, none of his friends were free to hang out with him until later, so he either had to head home and deal with Howard or he had to find somewhere to be for a couple of hours, until Rhodey was done with football practice so they could go to his place. That day, Tony decided to just stay by his car, smoking a cigarette and singing along to Black Sabath’s Iron Man, it wasn’t like he had anywhere to go. He was so distracted watching the smoke dissipate into thin air that he didn’t notice when someone approached, and jumped almost a foot in the air when they spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught smoking on school grounds?” Tony almost dropped dead when he registered the angelic voice. He was already having a heart attack as it was, but the boy was so close and he had that beautiful smile in place, blushing cheeks and all. It took almost a full minute for him to calm himself down.  

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” The older teen answered when he finally found his voice and got his breath under control enough not to make a fool of himself. Peter smiled wider, biting his lower lip.

“Your secret is safe with me.” He fake whispered, leaning a little into the older boy’s space and he almost choked on nothing. Peter’s smell was inebriating, expensive and sweet, but not overly so – perfect. He recomposed himself quickly, though, and nodded, but didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure why Peter was talking to him and, frankly, he was too fucking nervous to think of anything cool to say. The younger teen deflated a little faced with Tony’s silence; he looked around, seeming a little lost. “You’re Tony, right?”

Fuck, the way he said his name. His name. It was fucking music to his ears, the most beautiful tune. But how did he even know his name? Sure, he was Tony Stark, so not really anonymous, but people often forgot about it.

“Yeah. And you’re Peter.” Tony didn’t play games, he didn’t even try to pretend like he didn’t know who Peter was. It would be dumb anyway, everybody knew him. The other boy nodded shyly, it looked like he wanted to say something else, but he kept biting his lips and looking around nervously. Tony frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, it’s fine, it’s just, uhm. I have a flat tire and the wheel bolts are really tight and I couldn’t get them off, so I thought – I mean, could you, uh –“ He gestured wildly as he stuttered out his answer, looking in the general direction of his flashy, cherry red sports car. “I mean, it’s okay if you’re busy, but I –“

“Sure, I’ll help, don’t worry.” Tony threw his cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it. He was a little more at ease now that he knew why Peter was talking to him – he just needed help – and the best thing was, Tony was really good with cars. Of course, one didn’t need to have a PhD in mechanics to change a tire, but it still made him feel really good that he would be able to help properly.

“Thanks, you’re a life saver.” The chirpy attitude was back, as well as the smile, it made Tony’s heart flutter. He nodded sharply, looking away from his face, and gestured for Peter to lead the way.

When they reached his car, Tony whistled lowly, crouching down to look at the completely flat tire, as he tried to find the source of the problem. He was surprised to notice a two-inch cut on the surface of it, and it didn’t seem accidental.

“Fuck, Peter, it looks like someone sliced your tire.” When he looked up at the younger boy, he didn’t look surprised, but nervous. It was an odd reaction. Tony wondered if Peter already knew that – maybe he knew who did it and was scared of them? It made Tony’s blood boil. Why would anyone do that to Peter?

“Wh-what? How do you know that?” He bit his lower lip nervously, scratching his arm, and Tony frowned, worried.

“Here, look.” He gestured for Peter to crouch down next to him and pointed at the cut. “This is clearly a stab mark. Judging by the size and shape of it, I’d say this was probably done with a pocketknife.”

“Oh. Yeah, of course. Clearly.” He face-palmed, like he felt stupid, maybe for not seeing it before, but Tony still worried.

“If you want, I could go with you to the administration. We can ask them to check the security cameras. I think that one might have caught whoever did this.” He pointed at a security camera nearby, Tony knew where all of them were in the parking lot area – he’d been caught smoking way too many times not to know.

“What? There are –? I mean, look, it’s okay, it’s probably just someone trying to play a prank, it’s no big deal, it’s fine.” He stood up quickly, shaking his head, and Tony was positive he felt threatened somehow, he was acting so weird.

“If you’re sure… But if you change your mind, I’ll go with you, ok?” Tony stood up and took off his leather jacket. The weather was nice, just a bit chilly, so he was wearing a thin, white t-shirt with short sleeves underneath. He thought he heard Peter’s breath hitch for a second, but it was probably just his imagination. “Can you hold this for me?” He held out his jacket and the boy blushed, blinking rapidly.

“S-sure.”

Tony bit his bottom lip to refrain from asking, again, if everything was fine. Peter looked so freaking nervous, he was even sweating a little at the temples. Tony was positive he knew who did that to his car, but didn’t want to tell him for some reason. Maybe he wanted to protect whoever did it, maybe it was a boyfriend, or an ex. He gritted his teeth, hands closing in fists, but didn’t say anything, just crouched down and got to work.

The first bolt came off easily, it wasn’t tight at all, so he thought maybe Peter had already loosened it when he tried earlier. The second and third ones came off just as easily, though, only the fourth one was a little trickier, but nothing the younger teen couldn’t have handled himself. Tony thought maybe he hadn’t tried too hard, maybe he was afraid the person who did that would show up or something. He was so glad he was there to help, he wondered if Peter felt safe with him around, and the thought made him feel oddly proud and protective of him.

He made quick work of changing the tires, making sure not to screw the bolts too tight, then put the sliced one in the trunk of the car. When he turned around to look at Peter, he was looking intently at him, almost hypnotized, holding his jacket close to his chest like it was a puppy.

“All done.” Tony smiled and the boy seemed to snap out of a trance.

“Oh, thank you so much, really, you’re too kind.” He smiled broadly and the older teen scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it.” They were silent for a few seconds after that, but Peter kept holding his jacket and didn’t make any move to give it back to him. “Uhm, could I–?” He gestured towards the jacket and again the boy jumped up in surprise.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, here.” He handed it to him and quickly crossed his empty arms over his chest. “So, uhm,… Your dad is having a gala this weekend, right? Are you gonna be there?” Ah, so Peter did know who he was, not just his first name. The older teen leaned against the car and stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Not if I can help it.” He smirked, trying to act cool, but now that he didn’t have anything to do with his hands, he was growing nervous.

“Oh,” Peter looked… disappointed? He dropped his gaze to the floor, shuffling his feet, and Tony stood up straight, frowning.

“Why?”

“Nothing, it’s just – my parents are going, so I thought I’d tag along to, you know... but it’s okay.” He kicked an imaginary rock and avoided Tony’s eyes. The older teen stared at him with wide eyes, heart beating fast – what was the end of that sentence? Peter couldn’t possibly mean–

“I don’t – what, you’d go to, like, hang out with me or something?” He felt stupid when he stumbled on the words, but Peter didn’t seem to notice, his cheeks were burning red and he was looking anywhere else but at Tony.

“I mean, you must have much better things to do, of course, I was just –” He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, finally looking up at Tony. “Sorry, just forget about it, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“No, wait!” He rushed to interrupt him and Peter looked back at him with huge, Bambi eyes. Tony coughed awkwardly, blushing a little. “I mean, like, uhm… If you – would you wanna go as my date? To the gala?” He blurted out, finally, because what the hell. The worst that could happen was Peter say no, and he could deal with it. He would survive, for sure. It wouldn’t be a big deal. Really. It wouldn’t.

But he didn’t say no, he smiled broadly, eyes twinkling in excitement.

“I’d love to!” He answered quickly, and Tony’s heart fluttered, Peter looked genuinely happy.  “Could you – uhm, text me what color of tie you’ll be wearing? If you want! I understand if you think it’s lame, but I thought–”

“No, it’s fine.” His heart was beating so loud, Peter Fucking Parker wanted to coordinate ties with him, it was fucking corny and cliché and he loved it. “Uhm, here, give me your number.” He fished his phone from his back pocket and gave it to the younger teen.

“Cool.” Peter typed in his number and as soon as he gave his phone back, Tony sent him a smiley face so he would have his number, too. “Cool, cool, cool...” He rocked on the balls of his feet and looked around, like he was looking for something else to say.

“So… Do you have to be home soon or…?” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets again, wondering if maybe he was pushing his luck, but Peter shook his head quickly.

“Not really, no, my parents don’t really mind what time I get home as long as I let them know. You?”

“They don’t really care.” He shrugged, taking one step closer to Peter. “So… are you hungry, by any chance?”

“I’m starving.” He nodded, looking up at Tony in anticipation. It drove the butterflies in his stomach crazy.

“I know a place where they serve great burgers. We could go in my car and I could drop you off here on our way back, I’m just a little worried someone is gonna try to fuck up your car again. I mean, what if they’re targeting you or something?” Just the mention of what happened earlier made Peter nervous. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his bomber jacket and shook his head.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure it’s fine.” He didn’t look worried, though, at least not anymore.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, trust me, I am.” Tony found the sudden change odd, but thought maybe he was just trying to play it cool, so he let it go.  

“Okay, then, c’mon, my car is right there,” Tony gestured to his car and Peter smiled, taking his hands off his pockets. When he did, though, something slipped out and fell to the ground with a metallic noise. Tony quickly crouched down to get it for him, when he noticed what it was. “Wh – is that…?” He frowned, examining the pocketknife as if it was alien material. He was confused at first, because Peter didn’t seem like the kind of guy to carry one around, but then it dawned on him. When he looked at the younger teen, his face was so red it looked like he was about to explode.

“Uhm… If I told you I’ve never seen this before in my life would you believe it?” He chuckled nervously, scratching his arm, as Tony stood up. The older teen raised a brow at him.”Sorry, I just – I wanted an excuse to talk to you.” He said quietly, dropping his gaze.

“You know, you could have gone with the weather or whatever.” Tony answered, amused, and it made the younger boy look up at him.

“You’re just very intimidating,” He looked at him with huge, scared eyes, and Tony cocked his head to the side.

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“Yeah.” Peter answered pointedly, and Tony smirked, offering him his knife back.

“You do realize you just sliced your own tire so you’d have an excuse to talk to me, right? And I’m intimidating?” He joked, but Peter didn’t seem to find it funny. He winced and covered his face with his hands, clearly embarrassed.

“You must think I’m such a freak,” He groaned, voice muffled by his palms.

“Hey, hey, yes, I do think you’re a freak.” He grabbed Peter’s thin wrists and marveled at how perfectly they fit in his hands. He definitely saved that thought for later. “But you’re a really cute one.” He grinned and Peter chuckled, a delicate flush rising onto his cheeks.

“I feel stupid.” He admitted, worrying his bottom lip, but Tony shook his head, working up the nerve to cup Peter’s face in his hand.

“I feel flattered,” He said, honestly, and Peter’s breath hitched. He stared up at Tony, eyelashes fluttering, moist, pink lips slightly open. The older teen leaned down slowly and when the Peter closed his eyes, their lips touched. Just like in his fantasies, Peter tasted sweet, his lips were soft and his arms circled Tony’s neck in a warm embrace. When they parted, Tony smiled down at him, stroking his blushing cheek. “Just promise that if this doesn’t work out you won’t, like, key my car or something.”

“Oh, God,” he groaned, but they both laughed out loud, as they walked hand in hand across the parking lot.

[flying-nightwing]

Damn Him

Hi, this is average af but I needed to post something. You’ll probably be disappointed lmao. Anyway, enjoy some Dick Grayson content!

More on my masterlist, pinned as a top post!

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word count: 4798

Warnings: None

Summary: Dick Grayson never seems to say the right thing around you, and it’s not quite for the reason you initially thought

You looked up from your book when your cellphone vibrated on your desk beside you. You were in the midst of studying for your last exam of the semester, so you had your phone on a strict do not disturb schedule, which meant it remained on 24/7. Your notifications were blocked for any social media, text or calls you might receive, well, except for your one emergency contact: Bruce Wayne. He knew he was supposed to contact you only if he had no other choice but ask for your help, and never had he even used that card ever since you knew him. Reluctantly, you put down you book and marker to switch them for your phone. Turning on the screen, you ignored the various hidden notifications, focusing only on the single line that stared back at you.

Call me when you can - B.

Sighing, you unlocked your phone and pressed the contact name, then the phone icon next to it. It rang twice before Bruce picked up.

"(Y/N), how are you?"

"A bit stressed out, but it could be worse" You replied truthfully. "What's up?"

"I hope you know I wouldn't do this if I had any other solution" He began. "But I need your help on a recon mission, almost all my effective got busted last night"

"Oh my, are they okay?" You frowned with concern, even if he couldn't see you.

"Yes, don't worry" He said, "I'll explain in person, that is if you agree to come. I'd understand if you refused, though"

You rubbed the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes for a second. You owed a lot to Bruce, and since it was a simple recon stakeout, you could take one or two nights off to help him out. You were already ahead of schedule in your studying and confident in your knowledge of the material.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there" You finally answered. "What time do you want me over?"

"As soon as you can"

"Aight, see ya"

You hung up the phone and put it back on your desk, observing it for a second. It had been gifted to you by Bruce after you began going on missions more regularly with the batlings, he said that way he knew for sure all communications would be secure and sheltered from hacking or government surveillance. You had to admit, having an encrypted phone was pretty neat, as it ran entirely on Wayne Enterprises servers and networks. The simple thought of not having to suffer through youtube ads was satisfactory enough on its own to justify the need for it, even if you didn't join missions as much as you used to.

You finally stood up and went to change from your yoga pants and loose tank top to black jeans and a sweater, then jumped in your car and drove to the manor. You punched in your code at the gate and took the right to the garages, where you entered a second code to open the doors. Your car was several notches under those parked there, but you had to have something less flashy as not to attract too much attention. Still, it was more than a majority of college students even had. You had to thank Bruce for that too. He wasn't your adopted father per say, since he found you a few days before your eighteenth birthday, but he still acted like a guardian and mentor for you.

You jogged down to the batcave, where you instantly spotted a chatty blonde sprawled in a seat, making wild gesture. She sprung up straight at the sound of you coming in and her face split in a wide grin. She jumped on her feet and skipped toward you.

"Hey giiiiirl" She drawled out excitedly. "Long time no see!"

"Hey Steph" You chuckled, going for the hug. "Sorry I didn't call, I have no excuses"

"Don't worry about it" She waved off with an airy laugh. She knew how busy school kept you, and how you kind of wanted to separate yourself fromthe vigilante life. "I'm just glad you're here"

"So am I" Bruce called from the computers. He gave you a subtle smile, and you nodded back to him. "It seems like we're in a bit of an impasse here"

You didn't miss the quick glare he sent to Tim and Steph, who sheepishly avoided looking back at him. It didn't seem too serious though, or the air would have drastically changed.

"Before he says anything, know it wasn't our fault" Steph hurried to say.

"We were totally ambushed by Vicky Vale" Tim nodded along."No idea what she did there, but she was, and she saw right through our disguises.We had to bolt before she exposed us"

You frowned in confusion. "Okay can someone tell me what is going on here?"

"Tim and Steph were supposed to go undercover and cozy up with the high leaders of what I have suspicions on good authority are transiting premium grade opium into the US and Europe, and are close partners to Count Vertigo" Bruce began, already exhausted. "But as they said, Vicky Vale was somehow invited to the banquet and singled them out immediately before they could get even near the big guys"

"My magnificent blond mane attracts way too much attention, I'm afraid" Steph sighed sadly, making you chuckle. "It's a curse, babes. I tell ya"

"Keep telling yourself that, Stephi" A new voice came from the top of the stairs. You both wanted suddenly to go back to your books as a big part of why you barely tag along on missions anymore skipped down the stairs. Damn Dick Grayson, damn him. "We all know covert missions are not your strong point"

"I'm gonna kill you in your sleep, Grayson" She smiled sweetly at him.

"No, because you suck at being subtle" He returned the grin, just as sweetly if not more. He ruffled her hair as he passed by. "What's up Timbo"

He hummed something unintelligible, flipping his brother off. Dick laughed, then almost added something when he finally noticed you. His laughter died down and his eyes widened, and suddenly he looked uncomfortable. "Oh, you're here"

"So it seems" You replied as flatly as he spoke. It wasn't new, you had never known how to act around each other. Did you hate him? Of course not, you had absolutely no reason to. Did you consider him your friend? Hard to say. All you knew was that any and every encounter you had with Dick Grayson was awkward. You got along with Tim just fine, and even Jason when he was still around. You loved Cass and Duke, and you even managed to get on Dami's good side, or most of the time anyway. But Dick remained a mystery to you, one that had eluded you for years now. You didn't understand a single thing about that boy, and you doubted you ever would. You've had conversations before, loads of them, and you had no doubt he would make an amazing friend, but you couldn't seem to get past the stage of acquaintances.

Which was frankly disappointing, because you had been instantly attracted by his charms and easygoing nature when you first met. You had been drawn to him, and you couldn't try and pretend you hadn't pinned after him for the longest time. But you hit a wall when his behaviour began changing wildly around you, right around the time you slipped flirts every now and then to let him know that you were into him. Right now, you were just really over his poor attempts at pretending he never noticed it happen.

"So" Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension that had suddenly arisen in the cave. "Tomorrow night we'll have a new opening to try and get to them, hopefully without interruption this time. I've taken a look at the list, and no reporter was on it. We should be good"

"But Tim and Steph already got busted" You pointed out. "They'll know something is up if they show up again"

"That's why they will be seen at the Gotham Charity Auction at the museum" He explained, meeting your eyes. "That's why I called you up. You'll be going undercover with Dick as husband and wife"

"What?" Dick coughed almost immediately. "We're not–" He laughed nervously. "Us? As a married couple? This is ridiculous"

Your head turned sharply toward him, your eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Wow, thanks a lot for the vote of confidence" You snapped. "I didn't know being my fake husband was such a terrible perspective"

"No– Wait– That's not–" He stuttered, his eyes wide. "I didn't mean it that way"

"Sure" You rolled your eyes, before turning to Bruce again. He had an unreadable expression on his face, more unreadable than usually anyway. Tim and Steph stood there in stunned silence, not daring to speak up. "What's the briefing?"

Bruce glanced in between you and Dick, before looking back at you again. "Félix Lachance and Stella Gustavsson, they're the one you need to befriend. Since you're not known to the public, it'll be easier for Dick to pass under the radar and not cause an incident like last time"

"We get it, B" Tim muttered under his breath as Bruce passed you the files with the pictures.

"I need you to retrieve any information you can" He continued, ignoring Tim's comment. "Names of business partners, location of transactions, dates, anything, you know the gig. Your occupation and alias if you want one will be at your discretion, I trust you can deal with that. As always you need to be extremely careful as not to alert them, because this is our last chance to get the critical Intel we need to take this down. So I'll need you at your A game, both of you"

This was a warning and you knew it. He let you know more or less subtly to put aside whatever was happening between you and behave like adults. You straightened your back and took a deep breath, getting your head in the right mindset.

"Alright, I'll be ready for tomorrow night" You nodded as you gathered the files. "Can I stay over tonight? There is no point in trying to study now"

"You don't need to ask, (Y/N), you're always welcome here" Bruce said, a hint of fondness in his voice. He always liked having you around, he said your presence tamed the boys. You nodded and made your way upstairs, finding the room you claimed as your own for about a year, and the same you always came back to when you stayed the night.

You went to the drawers, fishing out old training clothes you had left behind. You weren't sure all those were yours, they were probably mixed with pieces you stole from Steph and Cass. In return, they probably did also steal from your drawer occasionally, balancing it all out. You were about to change into something comfy for bed when a soft knock at your door caught your attention. You walked to it and tentatively opening the door, your expression flattening when you saw how it was.

"Yes?"

"Hey um" Dick scratched the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry it came out that way. I just meant that it would be, you know, weird"

You stared at him blankly. "You're not helping your case here, Dick"

"Shit, that's not what I mean either!" He hurried to say, realizing his mistake. But you were already closing the door. "Please (Y/N)–"

"Get some rest Dick" You said as you pushed the door closed. You sighed and shook your head before adding in a whisper, "God knows we'll need it"

------

You had done covert missions before, but this was the first time you were operating in such conditions. You finished retouching your hair, staring at yourself in the mirror, wondering whether or not it was more expensive than your total life income. The floor length champagne coloured dress was stunning, tailored to your form and just sparkly enough to let you shine through the design. You suspected the shoes were made especially to fit with the dress, as they resembled its lace and belt colour. You were sporting on top of that a heavy diamond necklace with matching earrings, proving the general high cost of the outfit. Your comm was carefully tucked in your ear, functional and well hidden.

"Oh my my" Steph whistled lowly. "If I wasn't dating Timbers I would date you"

You laughed. "This is the outfit talking. You haven't seen me tired and puffy in sweatpants just yet"

"Grump, just take the damn compliment" She playfully poked your exposed shoulder.

"Alright alright, thanks" You rolled your eyes. "Since it's gonna be the only one coming from this household anyway"

Steph wiggled her eyebrows. "Wouldn't be so sure about that" She said in a sing-song voice. "Your fake boyfriend may have some thoughts too"

"Ha" You snorted, walking out of your room with her following at your side. "It's good, that you're wishful thinking. The boy can't seem to talk to me without insulting me lately"

"Trust me, he won't be able to resist to this bombshell" She gestured at your form. "Dick's a people pleaser, and looking like a whole five course meal like that, you sure are easy to please if you want my opinion"

You shook your head, a small grin on your face. Steph had always been your favourite for a reason. She knew how you felt about Dick, but she never meddled. Well, not more than she typically would anyway, and not enough to cross your boundaries. And even then, she had no explanation either for his behaviour. You finally reached the foyer, where Bruce was dressed casually, sleeves rolled up and without a tie, talking to an all dressed up Dick, his hair now dark red and with almost black contact lenses. Your heels clicking on the stairs was what snapped their attention to you; Bruce nodding at his choice of dress for you, and Dick, his mouth slightly agape. You felt Steph gently but excitedly elbowing your ribs.

"Ah, (Y/N), there you are" Bruce said. "I'm glad to see the dress fits well"

"Yeah" Dick tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "You look okay"

You blinked in disbelief as you heard Steph's facepalm behind you. You closed your eyes and exhaled through your nose, while Bruce shook his head slightly at his son.

"Yikes" Tim made his presence known. You shared this one word mood immensely right about now. "Way to go D"

Dick cleared his throat, trying to push back the embarrassment blush creeping up his cheeks. "Uh, shall we go?"

"That would be preferable, yes" Bruce replied, making Steph choke and cover he laughter with a cough. The way he said it was clearly meant to be a jab to his son's tactless attitude. "Be careful"

"Of course" You smiled tightly and all but dragged Dick outside. You'd take one of Bruce's luxury car to get there, and it was already waiting in the driveway. Dick pressed the door button and slowly, they lifted up to let you in. You slid in the passenger seat without waiting for Dick's help and you kept your eyes on the windshield in from of you as he began to drive. The ride was silent until he decided to speak again, tentatively.

"It's nice to see you all dressed up, for once" He said, still clearly not thinking of his choice of words more carefully. "It's different. A good different!"

For once? Was he serious?

You audibly sighed. "I'm begging you to just stop talking"

"What?" He objected, confused. "What did I say wrong this time– Oh"

"Yeah" You replied, your tone clipped and dry.

"I'm an idiot" He mumbled under his breath. That you could agree on, but you didn't voice it out loud.

He couldn't pull into the driveway fast enough. You slipped on your fake engagement ring as Dick stopped in front of the awaiting valet, doing himself the same thing. You both had a recording device slipped in your clothes, and the ring allowed you to turn it on and off at will, as well as the comm in your ear. You turned both off for the awaiting scan at the entrance, as not to emit detectable frequencies.

"Ready?" He asked, and you gave him a firm nod. He got out first and rounded the car, opening your door for you as he would be expected to by this particular crowd. You took his offered hand to climb out and linked your arm to his as he gave the keys to the valet in exchange for a ticket. He left a tip before you walked inside, registering to the guest list. You passed the security checkpoint without a hassle and found yourself in the hall where the auction was held. You turned on your comm and recording device again.

"Recon first, then regroup?" You suggested in a mutter as you were both visually scanning the room.

"Yep" He replied shortly. "B, copy?"

"Crystal clear" 

"Good. Let's go"

While Dick headed to the bar, you opted for the art collection on display, pretending to scout for potential pieces to bid on. But your eyes weren't on the expensive paintings and statues, but moved around the room to spot some VIP lounge or area where the big shots might hang out at. There was a room where attendees came and went, but you shrugged it off as there wasn't enough security for the profile you were searching for. You paused your recon for small talk here and there, and you were in the middle of a casual chat about painted landscapes with an older gentleman when Dick rejoined your side, handing you a drink.

"There you are honey" He smiled sweetly, his unusually dark brown eyes reflecting the light from the chandelier.

"Joey, my love, allow me to introduce you to Sir Fernand Bretworth of Essex" His alias flew out of your mouth naturally, then you took a small sip of your drink. Non alcoholic, nice thinking. "We were discussing impressionism and its influence on modern art"

You wanted to smirk at the clueless look Dick gave you. He was a prodigy in a lot of things, but art wasn't one. It was more Damian's thing, or Tim's if he tried hard enough, but definitely not Dick's. Take that now. 

"Ah, yes..." He replied slowly. "Fascinating indeed"

"Alright" You let out a small, cover up laugh as your hand rested on his bicep. "My husband has little interest in art, my apologies"

"No offence taken" He chuckled. "I'll leave you two, my wife must be looking for me. An old fool like me gets easily distracted!"

You laughed along with him until he was out of earshot. Then you dropped your hand and turned to him. "Noticed anything?"

"Yeah, there is a guarded room with special access" He said as you walked deeper into the crowd not to look suspicious. "Only owned of a special pass can go in, and the guards are very thorough"

"Great" You breathed. "Now let's hope out lovebirds will come out to mingle"

"As it turns out..." He trailed off, and instinctively, you began turning your head toward where his gaze lead. He immediately redirected your head back to him with a firm, but gentle touch on your cheek. His hand remained there for about three seconds longer than necessary, until he realized what he did and retracted his arm. You could have almost enjoyed it if he didn't look like he was touched by literal fire. "Don't look"

"Sorry" You mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"... They got out, they're talking to people" He informed you, ignoring what just went down. "You go for Stella, I'll take Felix. Remember, friendly but not suspicious. Sweet talk your way into spilling the beans"

"I know" You bit back, your voice low. "Not my first mission, remember? I know what to do"

"I was just reminding you"

"Yeah, I got that" You scoffed. "If you don't trust me, just say so, it'll save you trouble of babying me"

"Come on, that's not–"

He began arguing, but you walked away before you could slip up and say his real name. It would give him one more reason to come down on you like you were a beginner in need of guidance. You were rusty, not stupid. You didn't need him insulting your undercover talents as well. You stopped in front of a beautiful emerald necklace that had a start bid of ten millions dollars and took a long sip of your drink, now kind of bummed it was non alcoholic. But that very detail was probably why you felt a presence approaching you from behind, giving you a few seconds to compose yourself and sweep your frustration under the rug.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You turned around, surprised. It looked like the voice made you jump, when it was in fact the nature of the question that threw you off, as well as the person who had spoken. Before you could ask, the Stella Gustavsson smiled warmly and nodded to where Dick had been seconds earlier.

"I saw what happened" She began, and your heart skipped a beat, hoping she hadn't overheard. "Those frustrated hands gesture are all too familiar. What did he do?"

You relaxed slightly, for now. "We've been having trouble lately, well, more than usually" You explained with a little complicit cock of your head. She seemed to get it. You, on the other hand, knew Dick was hearing everything on his comm, so you decided to go for it. "He's acting... Weird. Can't seem to talk to me without irritating me, whether on purpose or not. I'm sorry, I'm venting to a stranger, I can't imagine how it must look look like.

"Don't worry about it dear, I asked" She winked, extending her hand. "I'm Stella"

"Aleka" You shook her hand.

"Your dress is stunning, by the way!" She exclaimed. "Which designer?”

You froze for a second before shrugging. "No idea, my designer got it for me" You brushed off. "As long as it looks good, I don't care where it comes from"

"Amen" She said, taking a sip of her champagne. "Although, I need to know the name of your designer. They have amazing taste, and I'm looking for a new one for myself"

Oh shit.

"It's B" You replied instantly.

"Bee?"

"Yeah" You nodded, and she looked at you incredulously. "I mean, that's what we all call him. I'm sure he has a name, but I pay him to dress me, not to know his personal life"

"Harsh, (Y/N)" Bruce said in your ear, and you remembered he had been listening to everything. "But nice save"

She laughed, unaware of the comments from Batman himself. "That is very true. How have I not met you before? I feel we have a lot in common"

"I sincerely have no idea" You replied, adding a little gasp of disbelief.

"You're different from this crowd, I can feel it" She kept going on as you started walking side by side in the exposition room. "Everyone here only cares about petty, trivial things. You have a head on your shoulders, you're smart. Too bad your man can't seem to see what's in front of him"

You sighed in agreement to hide the fist pump of victory that threatened to come up. Just like that, you had won Stella over. "I don't know what to do about it. I've tried to talk to him, but it just makes it worse"

"But have you tried to make him jealous?" She suggested with a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. "There are plenty of young men around, or older bachelors if you're into that. Flirt with them, make sure he sees you, he'll come running, take my word"

"It won't work, he's not–" Even my boyfriend, you were about to say, but you saved your fall just on time. Still, you could practically see Dick's glare in the back of your head at the almost slip up. "Jealous. He's not a jealous man, he's very confident and secure"

"What a shame" She drawled out, going for her champagne again. "Here's what you can do then. Go to him, take him by the neck and french kiss him like there is no tomorrow”

You choked on your saliva as she watched you with a mischievous grin. "Excuse me?"

"It's guaranteed to work, darling" She lifted her shoulder in an elegant shrug. "Then you hold him off. You'll thank me later tonight when you're back at home, just wait and see"

You were about to argue some more, but her insisting stare told you she wasn't just going to let it go. So you scanned the crowd for Dick, spotting him casually excusing himself from a conversation group, going for a refill at the bar. You reached him and grabbed him by the elbow, bringing him face to face with you. You made sure your back was to Stella before beginning to explain the situation.

"I heard" He told you in a mutter, making sure his lips were unreadable under Stella's stare from the distance.

"Then you know what she expects" You sighed, slipping your hands behind his neck. "It doesn't have to be deep, just convincing. Can you do this without grimacing?"

You thought he would stumble into some weak apology, or say something clever. He did neither, instead dived straight for your lips so quickly it was you who was taken by surprise. Naturally, all you could do is kiss him back and try to keep up with him. At some point you thought he would break off, but you weren't prepared for him to actually deepen the kiss. He wasn't letting you go, and it made you dizzy in all the best ways. Let's say you were thankful for his arm around your waist right about now. Finally, you still had to breathe, so you parted reluctantly.

"What was that for?" You asked, your eyes still dazed.

"An apology for irritating you unintentionally" He grinned boyishly, for probably the first time ever directed at you. "I'm an idiot"

"Can confirm" You replied, bringing him down on your lips again. This time, it was a bit shorter, but the spark was still very much present. "You should have done this a long time ago"

"I know" He nodded, his head slightly down and his puppy dog eyes shining even underneath the dark contact lenses. "You're a bit intimidating, I didn't know how to act"

You let out a loud laugh at his confession. "You're kidding"

He pouted.

"Me?" You repeated. "But you're– You're you!"

"Well, duh" He chuckled. "You've got me all tangled in here," He pointed at his chest. "Made me nervous all the time"

You melted just a little bit at his little display, before remembering doing this was a specialty of his. You were just not used to be on the receiving end of it. "You're lucky you're cute, and that I'm already sold on you"

The bright grin returned.

"As heartwarming as this moment is, please focus on the task at hand" Bruce's stern voice echoed in your head, and you were suddenly reminded your conversation had been integrally transmitted to him.

"Right, sorry" Dick apologized sheepishly.

"See, I told you"

This time, you were taken by surprise by Stella walking on you. Even Bruce's intervention hadn't quite brought you back to reality. Damn Dick Grayson, damn him. You turned around, trying to hide your flustered state and instead focusing on the tall gentleman at her side. Must be Felix Lachance, you thought.

"It works every time" She added, sipping from a new glass of champagne.

"You were right" You let out an airy laugh. "Stella, this is my husband Joey Moore. Joey, this is my new friend Stella"

They shook hands before she introduced her husband to the both of you. You already knew his name, but you both pretended you didn't for the sake of your covers.

"Nice to meet you two" Félix smiled politely.

"Hey, would you like to go for a drink after this?" Stella asked. "I sure would like to get to know you two better"

Dick and you exchanged a glance, knowing you had locked the target. Acquiring intel from now on would only be a piece of cake, the base was laid for further actions. You smiled, returning your glance to Stella.

"That would be absolutely lovely"

[jadoue1999]

The X-Men and the member they lost - Chapter 8

Summary: Wanda perfected a spell meant to help them feel better, but she gravely underestimated the mind of a speedster.

Previous parts: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Trouble

Wanda had changed, it wasn’t very hard to see either. Peter wasn’t sure what had caused that change, perhaps she was getting over her grief or just sinking deeper, but her whole behavior didn’t match the woman he had known back in Westview. She seemed surer of herself and yet was still riddled with sadness. She didn’t zone out when they talked about Vision and the twins, but he could tell she did miss them. Also, their late-night talks had become a little more spaced out. Which were frankly one of the only things he looked forward to these days, so that really sucked. He hoped she wasn’t regretting her decision to come with them. He wasn’t sure if he could lose another person, especially his sister. Her sudden need of space was all that was on his mind. Erik had noticed it and had tried to help as much as he could. But a father wasn’t the same thing as a twin, multiverse or not. Still, he really wanted to know why she had distanced herself all of a sudden. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long as the redhead came barging into his room one night. She had a book in her hand, which he realized with a shudder of fear that it was the very same book that had been in Agatha’s basement. The one she had consulted to find a way to control him. Yet, Wanda didn’t seem to be weary of the spell book, instead she wore an expression of excitement.

“Watch this,” she gleefully said, waving a hand in the air, letting her wiggly woos fill the room.

His surroundings suddenly changed. The room doubled in size and he was now sitting on a plaid couch, a coffee table was in front of him. There was a television with three remote controllers laying in front of it, as if they were only waiting to be used in a game. On his left, there was a tall stairway with a white ramp that led to an unseen upstairs. He could see the familiar kitchen a few feet away. He knew that place, but they couldn’t possibly be back. His heart was beating to a rhythm that definitely wasn’t a healthy one as he puzzledly looked at Wanda.

“Wait for it,” excitedly said the redhead, “the best is about to come.”

She seemed so happy; he hadn’t really seen her that way after the whole Westview incident. They were both too deep in grief to let themselves be, Peter charted this as some kind of survivor’s guilt. Something was definitely amiss. He didn’t have time to question her before a double set of footsteps hurried down the stairs.

“Uncle P!”

“Uncle P, you’re back!”

The twins ran to him and jumped on the couch before squeezing him in a tight hug. Peter didn’t react, it felt so real, but there was no way it could be. They were gone, they’d never existed in the first place. Billy was excitedly telling him how he could now move objects with his mind and Tommy kept running around the couch, rambling about how much faster he was.

“Almost as fast as you!”

This was wrong, none of it could possibly be real. They weren’t even in the right universe. Had Wanda found them somehow? He couldn’t continue wondering on how the boys could possibly be there as he spotted Vision going down the stairs as well.

“Well, he does look surprised to see us, doesn’t he, darling?” He asked to Wanda with an amused smile.

“Yes, he does,” chuckled the redhead in response.

“Wanda, what’s going on?” The twins being there, there was a possibility, maybe their souls had been transported some place where they were trapped, but Vision? The android had been the one thing that was for certain a pure creation of Wanda’s grief, he couldn’t possibly be standing next to her.

She smirked and gently took her husband’s hand, looking at him lovingly before turning her head back to him. “I’ve been practicing with the Darkhold, you wouldn’t believe all the knowledge it contains!” She seemed so giddy; he wasn’t sure how he should react. The last person to have used this book was Agatha and she came close to destroying them all. She had to be careful, who knew the traps it could contain. She let go of Vision’s hand and opened the book. “You don’t have to worry about it, Peter, none of it is real. It’s just an illusion.”

The speedster didn’t move, all of this… was wrong. The book was obviously pure evil, she couldn’t trust it. It would definitely corrupt her in the long run. Wanda seemed to notice his hesitation, she frowned. “If you’re not satisfied, I can always show you what you missed!” She motioned to the twins, telling them to hold on to him as she flipped a few pages. Ominous orange energy glowed from them. This was so wrong; how could she be blind to this? She muttered a few words in a language he couldn’t understand, and the surroundings changed once more. The stairs disappeared first, the floor morphed into a carpet and then a step appeared. There was a chimney next to an exposed brick wall and a rectangle diner table was in the middle of the room. The couch changed to an L shaped one and the television changed to a vintage one. The most unsettling thing was how everything was in black, white, and various shades of grey. He, Wanda, the twins, and Vision were dressed in old fashioned clothes. It was so strange; he didn’t know how to react. The others seemed unfazed, and Peter had to remind himself that none of it truly was happening. Tommy and Billy grabbed him, each one holding an arm and were trying to get him to his feet. They were talking about wanting to show him their drawings, but Wanda stopped them.

“Now boys, remember what I told you,” she warned them, “leave your uncle some space.”

“Oh right, I forgot!” said Tommy as they let go of him. Billy fidgeted with his fingers and apologized to both him and his mom.

“Wanda, why are you doing this?” He looked at the boys who were now staring at him with wide eyes, probably waiting for him to play with them.

“Y-you asked me if I’d go back to Westview if I could. You agreed with me when I said I would if it didn’t hurt anyone.” She sat down next to him and took his hands. “Well, I achieved it. No one is suffering. It took me weeks of practice, but I wanted everything to be perfect. So, you could see the boys again, so you wouldn’t be the only speedster.” She looked down at the floor in disappointment, “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Great, now he was feeling bad. He didn’t really know how to feel. on one hand, he was glad to see his nephews again, but he was well aware that nothing there was real. He supposed that it was because Wanda was still learning, but it felt wrong. A bit how his mind had been screaming at him when Agatha was puppeteering him around. He suddenly had the urge to run and flee, but it was ridiculous because she was his sister. Even his alternate universe sibling probably wouldn’t hurt him. Well, now she wouldn’t. She knew better.

His mind went into overdrive and it caught the redhead off guard. He understood why, obviously she had figured he would be happy. Tommy and Billy were asking him why he looked so distressed, probably an extent of Wanda’s consciousness. They couldn’t truly be worried because they were never real in the first place.

He could hear Wanda starting to worry, telling him how he needed to calm his mind because it was a lot of energy to maintain the illusion, but he didn’t listen. He was stuck in his thoughts; he hadn’t realized just how much his experience had scarred him. He couldn’t shake the feeling of how wrong everything was. He didn’t like this, he hated it. He wanted to be happy because it was certain that Wanda would not repeat this experience after his meltdown, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down.

Vision and the twins faded away, along with the weird unsaturated room. The new place was a lot darker. And he was alone. There was a weird humidity in the air and Peter’s heart started beating even faster because he knew those pillars, and those stone walls with the creepy vines covering them. There was a beam of light coming from a small window on one the wall. He could hear footsteps and he barely had the time to turn that Agatha herself was looking at him with malicious eyes. He took a step forward but couldn’t get anywhere because he was trapped in the vines again. The witch took his chin in her hand, a wide grin on her face. She was gloating, he could tell she was delighted about the situation he was in. She was telling him all about her master plan to break out of Wanda’s spell.

“You know, Wanda’s mind was too shielded for me to do anything, but you,” she smirked as she narrowed her eyes at him, “you, with all your suffering and your self doubts. I can slip right through those cracks. Make myself home.” She leaned in close to his ear, “we made a great team before Wanda changed the spell to make you her own.”

His heart was practically beating out of his chest now. This couldn’t be happening, they had escaped, hell they were in another dimension. There was no way she could be there; Wanda had taken care of her. Yet, everything felt so real. Agatha’s fingers had felt so harsh on his skin, the air was so stale, and the vines were practically choking him. Had Wanda’s spell failed? Could he really be back in Westview?

“You know, I waited.” She took a few steps back dramatically. “I waited for weeks, for your sister to delve into the book. To read the pages and feel its power.”

“No…” He closed his eyes in denial, he had thought about it before, but it couldn’t be. She couldn’t mean-

“Yes,” she grinned, a menacing glint in her eyes. “You see, I always plan in advance. The more she uses it, the more her grip over me weakens. Soon enough…” Agatha suddenly stopped talking. Peter opened his eyes, unsure about what he would see. To his horror, she had changed, and Wanda was now standing in front of him. “… she’ll be just as corrupted as I was.”

He could hear someone calling his name, but he was all to focused on the witch who was cackling like a mad woman to make out who it was. It felt so wrong to see Wanda acting so evil, but was Agatha right? The book was evil, he had seen it himself. Could it be changing Wanda without her noticing it? He didn’t have time to dwell on his fears. Everything disappeared around him and he was back in his room. Wanda was looking at him with a concerned gaze, she was holding him by the shoulders. She had probably tried to shake him awake.

“Are you okay?”

Peter didn’t answer her, he was trying to get his heartbeat and breathing under control. Was he really back at the mansion? It certainly felt real, but so had Agatha’s basement. He slowly got up and stretched his arms, making sure he truly was free. He had never felt so vulnerable in life, even with the blue fake god. At least, he had only faced him once. He turned to Wanda, who was still looking at him.

“W-what happened?” he stammered, still a little confused about the whole experience.

She took a deep breath, “the spell enabled me to create an illusion. It worked when I was level-headed and focused; I didn’t expect you to react that way.” She squeezed her eyes in regrets. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t able to follow. You brain was going so fast; I couldn’t keep up. The spell just fed on your mind and transported you to whatever you were thinking about. I-I had no idea she had treated you that way, you never said a word. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped.”

She pulled him in a tight hug and continued muttering apologies. Peter hugged her back, still not sure about the whole situation. “It felt so real. I really thought I was back.” They let go and he looked at her in the eyes. “Agatha, she… she told me stuff about you, well us, but I’m more concerned about you.”

“Peter, as real as it might have felt, the spell is nothing more than an illusion. It was fuelled by your subconscious, your thoughts, and your fears. In the end, none of it was real.” He could hear the unspoken ‘like Westview’, but he didn’t mention it.

While his sister might have been right, but there was still the fact that Agatha was very old and very powerful. “She talked about a link she had with the spell book, how they were still connected. She said- she said that the more you use it, the weaker your magic is on her. She’s trying to get free.”

Wanda looked at him with a reassuring gaze and smiled. “Don’t worry, I am being careful. My mental shields are up at all times.”

That did make him feel better, but he reminded himself that the witch had told him of her backup plan. “She... she said she would possess me again because my shields weren’t as strong as yours. She said you’d never suspect a thing.”

“It was turning all your fears against you, none of it was real,” reassured Wanda. “By the way, I think we have the same mental resistance, except that you don’t even have to think about it.”

He hated this, why had the spell backfired? He could have had a nice reunion with his nephews had he been able to control himself. Now, he was just stuck with fears of losing Wanda. She had to be aware of the risks. “But it brought up some valid concerns. The book is dark magic, what if it corrupts you? I don’t really want you going to the dark side.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she winked at him. “I’ll do like Luke, resist it and eventually destroy it.”

A knock on the door made them both jump. Erik’s head popped in, he looked concerned. His gaze hardened when he spotted Wanda next to him. “I- Charles heard your distress, I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Of course, the telepath would have heard. He pitied the man, feeling what he had been feeling mustn’t have been a good experience. Especially in such early hours of the morning. Peter motioned him to come closer, he wouldn’t mind having his sister and his dad finally getting along. Their relationship was strained to say the least. Wanda didn’t want to intrude; she had decided to let Erik do the first steps. He had told her that his dad was way too stubborn to make any sort of first contact, but she had been okay with that. Since then, they had barely exchanged more than five sentences. Erik sat on his desk chair, looking warily at the redhead that was sitting next to the speedster, on his bed. He chose to turn to his son. “What happened?”

“Its my fault,” interrupted Wanda, making the metal bender turn his head sharply in her direction. “I tried a spell and underestimated my control over it.”

Peter could see how the man clenched his jaw and how the bits of metal in his room started clanking. Erik was getting mad. He had to make sure he wouldn’t hurt Wanda. “Dad,” he whispered, making him turn to him. The man was still surprised every time he called him that. “You can’t blame her. She tried to make me feel better; it’s my crazy fast mind that screwed everything up.” His father looked at him, unconvinced, but at least, the metal around them stopped moving. Peter counted that as a win. He cleared his throat, “dad, why do you hate Wanda?”

The question made the man froze for a few seconds before he answered. “I don’t… I don’t hate her,” Peter raised an eyebrow at him, Erik sighed. “It’s true, I don’t hate her. But what you did only served as a reminder that I’m just as powerless to protect my family as I was when the Nazis killed my parents and when the authorities murdered my wife and daughter in front of me.” He didn’t look at them in the eyes. His shoulders were hunched over as if a cloak of sadness and grief was draped over them. “We are similar in our loss, but you took my son away, stripped him of his identity and made him into your puppet. We had to watch, uncertain of his future, if he even had one. For a moment, I was certain we had lost him forever.” Erik finally met Wanda’s eyes, who looked at him apologetically. “So, no, I do not hate you, but you almost took the only family I had left. Not only that, but I have to live with the fact that he is your brother the same way you are my daughter, and I cannot accept this. Not right now at least.”

With that, the man swiftly got up and left the room. Wanda and Peter didn’t say anything as they were left alone once more. The speedster was deep in thought, he had never seen his father in such a fragile light. He really should have controlled his mind.

***

Notes: So, this was a chapter I wasn't sure I was going to include since it sort of opens up storylines I don't want to explore, but I loved it a lot so I hope you did too! One of my personal theory of how Agatha could come back with the darkhold is one I only put in because I hope to see it happen XD Next chapter: Erik and Wanda have a talk