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babydollmarauders · 1 year

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MEDDLE ABOUT — NICO HISCHIER

nico hischier x fem!reader

summary: in which Nico hooks up with the girl he can’t stop thinking about… his teammates best friend.

warnings: NSFW!!, oral (f receiving), p in v, captain kink, praise, not proofread.

notes: LOOSELY inspired by Meddle About by Chase Atlantic. i mean extremely loosely. like, you’d only know it’s inspired by it if you know the lyrics to the song pretty well. (7k words)

when i agreed to visit John for a couple days, i knew it meant meeting his teammates.

that was the deal; i fly to Jersey, John picks me up, and we go to a bar with a few of his teammates.

the guys were sweet. lovably stupid, but they were hockey players so i wasn’t expecting much different.

i had met Jack first, who was already waiting for us at the bar. he was nice, telling me stories of everything i’ve missed while John is away from me, and he was funny in a blunt way. but most importantly, i could tell he cared for my best friend, so i took to him well.

then was Dawson, who showed up merely a couple minutes after the agreed upon meeting time, yet still profusely apologized for being ‘late’. his smile was contagious, his demeanor reminding me of a golden retriever, and he had greeted me with a hug; treating me as if i was just one of the guys.

and then there was Nico.

the quoted ‘most responsible’ of the group had burst into the bar nearly forty-five minutes late, citing his reasoning as having decided to take a nap but his alarm never went off because his phone decided to restart. his eyes were still noticeably a bit bleary with sleep, and his voice was deep and scratchy, still warming up from lack of use during his nap. his accent was thick, and at first, i honestly couldn’t be sure what he was saying, but the boys had obviously been around him enough to get used to the accent, nodding along to his words and reassuring him that it was all good.

then he turned to me, and i could’ve sworn i could melt right then and there. big brown eyes that captivated me, staring straight into mine. well-groomed stubble graced his jaw, and my personal weakness; thick, pronounced eyebrows to top it all off.

i had seen him on my tv screen, any time i watched one of John’s games, but he was so much more attractive in person.

“Cap, this is my best friend since high school, y/n.” John grins, slinging an arm around my shoulder. Nico’s eyes flicker over to John before settling back on me, a smile spreading on his lips. “y/n, this is our captain.”

“well, hi captain.” i tease, outstretching my hand. a red flush paints across his face and he takes my hand in his.

“you can just call me Nico.” he chuckles, shaking my hand. “sorry again that i’m late.”

“no worries, Nico. these three have been very good company.” i assure him.

“i’m gonna go grab a beer.” he announces. my eyes dart to my now empty beer bottle and i stand from my seat.

“i’ll join you.” i tell him. “i need another.”

i follow behind him at a safe distance, navigating my way through the slightly crowded bar, but when Nico glances back and sees me struggling to push through a group of drunken men, his hand finds mine, pulling me with him.

“oh-” i let out a squeak of surprise at his gentle grip, and he squeezes my hand lightly. “thank you.”

we reach the bar and our hands drop, mine now gripping the edge of the wooden counter.

“no problem.” he shrugs, facing me as we wait for our turn with the bartender. “so, you’ve known John since high school?”

“i was a ninth grader in tenth grade algebra.” i nod. “he tore into the teacher for making me cry after i got dress coded on the second day for my shirt being too low cut.

“John insisted that it was misogynistic. he came to school the next day wearing a t-shirt that he had cut down into a low cut v-neck and then proceeded to rant about how much of a double standard it was that the teacher didn’t dress code him for it but dress coded me.”

Nico grins softly as i look over the crowd at John, a faint smile playing on my lips.

“sounds like him.” he chuckles. “always looking out for people.”

“he has a big heart.” i nod, turning back towards him. “he says i’m part of his ‘personal team’. i’m not sure what exactly that means, but i know it means he looks out for me. i’m really grateful for him.”

“sorry we kinda stole him from you.” Nico cringes but i laugh, shaking my head.

“nah. he was bound to go somewhere, i’m just glad it was here.” i look back at John, watching him laugh at something Jack said. “he’s happy here.”

“so are you guys…” Nico trails off, and my head whips around, eyes wide and my lips parted. i know exactly what he’s insinuating, it’s the same thing everyone thinks when they meet John and i together.

“no.” i shake my head abruptly. “never. he’s like my brother.”

“oh, okay.” his eyes scan my face, and when i turn to look at the bartender as she approaches, i can see him out of the corner of my eye, his eyes trailing down my body.

i smirk as he bites his lip, while i order two beers from the bartender.

“so, you’re… how old? twenty-six?” he questions.

“twenty-four.” i correct him. “i’m a year younger than John and i haven’t had my birthday yet.”

“so we’re the same age.” he nudges my shoulder with his, grinning down at me.

“for about another week, yeah.” i tease.

the bartender returns with our beers and Nico hands her cash, covering he and i’s drinks before i can get my card out.

“you didn’t have to do that.”

he shrugs before winking at me. “consider it an early birthday gift.”

“wow, a $5 beer! how lucky am i?” we laugh as we make our way back to the other three guys, Nico’s hand finding mine again amongst the crowd.

“y/n, there’s a surprise coming on the juke box.” John smiles, his missing tooth on full display.

“oh Johnny, did you lose your fake again?” i sigh, setting my beer on the table.

it’s an often occurrence that he takes the fake tooth out when he gets tipsy, losing it most times.

i ready myself to have to drop to the ground and find it, but he shakes his head, patting his pocket.

“nope! right here!” he grins, his chest puffing with pride. “ya proud of me?”

i giggle, patting his shoulder. “i am, Johnny. look at you, being responsible.”

the guys laugh, chirping him for the coddling that comes from me, but he waves them off.

we sit around at the table, the guys telling me all sorts of stupid stories from pre-games and even post-game celebrations.

i laugh as Jack tells me that his brother was supposed to come, but ended up staying home to watch a movie, and i defend Luke’s choice, saying that sometimes you just need some alone time.

it’s about twenty minutes later that a song starts playing throughout the bar, and my eyes meet John’s, who smirks at a job well done.

“oh Johnny, dance with me!” i hop up from my seat, stumbling slightly but Nico steadies me from his spot beside me.

“hell no.” John laughs, shaking his head.

“pretty please!” i plead, rounding the table and laying my hands on his shoulder. i give him the best puppy eyes i can manage, my lashes fluttering. “i’ll be your best friend!”

“you already are my best friend.” he cackles, shooing me away. “there’s no chance that i’m dancing in a bar not even meant for dancing.”

i pout, lightly kicking his shin, to which he just rolls his eyes and shoos me away.

“i’ll dance with you, y/n.” the thick accent that reaches my ears has me swiveling around to face Nico.

“you will?” i ask excitedly.

he nods, rising from his seat and holding out his hand to me. i grasp it in mine, pulling him towards an empty spot not far from the table. whilst doing so, i turn my head to look over my shoulder, sticking my tongue out at my best friend.

“go cap!” Dawson calls out, and Nico’s face flushes red as he holds onto my hips. my body is pulled against him, my hips grinding against his to the beat of the song.

“keep it PG-13, you two!” John levels me warning glare, his brows raised to show me he means it, but i wave my hand at him dismissively.

“he’s just boring, don’t listen to him.” i call out to Nico over my shoulder, and he lets out a strained hum in agreement.

i can feel him hardening against me as my hips sway along his crotch, but all i do is smirk, slowing down my pace in order to make it a little more sensual.

i look over at the table to find the guys attention no longer on us, instead joking amongst themselves once again. glancing over my shoulder, i look up at the Devils captain, an innocent expression drawn across my face.

“how am i doing, cap?” i whisper and his heavy lidded eyes find mine.

“doing great, schatzi.” his words are whispered in my ear, his hot breath fanning across my neck and sending a shiver down my spine.

i make a mental note to try and google translate the nickname when i get back to John’s tonight, but lord knows if i’ll remember.

the song ends and a new one begins, this one less sexual and more of a love song.

i twist in Nico’s grasp, facing him and resting my arm up on his shoulder, my hand toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. our bodies sway a little, back and forth.

“you’re pretty good looking, for a hockey player.” i hum, and he chuckles, his grip tightening on my hips.

“is that a compliment?” he teases.

“mhm. you even have all your teeth… from what i can tell.” he laughs again, nodding softly.

“i do.”

“pretty sexy.” i shrug.

“well, that’s a pretty low standard of sexy.”

“i’m an easy girl to please.” i wink up at him before untangling myself from his touch, walking back to the table with a new bounce in my step and a sway in my hips.

“you have fun out there?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows as i sit, and i glance over to make sure John isn’t listening before i reply.

“your captain- he’s single?”

Jack’s head tips back in laughter and i blush in embarrassment.

“yeah, he’s single. too focused on hockey for a girlfriend.” he finally responds before his lips press shut. my brows furrow for a second before Nico settles back down in his spot beside me.

“what are we talking about?” Nico raises his beer bottle to his lips, raising a brow at the hush that fell at his arrival.

“hockey!” Jack exclaims at the same time as i say “music!”

“hockey music!” Jack tries to drunkenly cover and i let my forehead fall into my hand at his stupidity.

“…hockey music?” Nico questions suspiciously, his eyes darting between Jack and i.

“big thing in Canada.” Jack nods. “you wouldn’t know, being from Switzerland and all.”

“…right.” Nico nods, and Jack throws me a horribly hidden thumbs up, but anyone who isn’t as drunk as Jack is can tell that Nico didn’t buy the lie for a second.

“y/n!” i turn at the sound of my name, finding John staring at me in waiting. “you ready to go? i need a shower.”

it’s then that i notice the new stain of beer all along his chest, his shirt sticking to his skin, and i laugh.

“yeah, let’s go, Johnny.” we bid goodbye to the guys, assuring them that we’ll see them tomorrow at the game, before we head out of the bar.

i send one last fleeting glance over my shoulder to Nico, his head tipped back in laughter and his hand clutched over his chest at something Dawson said.

“ya know, he’s not interested in a girlfriend.” John mutters on the walk to the car, simultaneously pulling his keys from his pocket and handing them over to me.

“what?” i feign innocence, helping him into the passengers seat. his six beers compared to my two that i had been nursing all night really took a toll on him.

“i just don’t want you to get hurt, rosie.” he pinches at my cheeks as i buckle his seatbelt and i roll my eyes at the nickname that’s stuck since high school.

John always did find it hilarious that i, as a 14 year old girl, always blushed when any older guys talked to me. including him, before we got so close.

“i’ll be okay, Johnny.” i assure him, closing the door and rounding the car.

it’s silent as i buckle up and start the car.

“as long as you know what you’re doing.” John holds his hand out and i take it in mine, allowing him to press a kiss to the back of it. “you’re my best friend, i just don’t want you to expect more from Nico and then get upset when he doesn’t give it.”

“John,” i sigh, pulling my hand away so i can put both on the steering wheel, starting en route to his apartment. “i’m not in the market for a boyfriend. especially not a long distance one. i’m just.. having fun.”

he nods in understanding and one corner of his mouth pulls up slightly. “yeah, me too. i like fun.”

i bark out a laugh, hitting his arm jokingly. “yeah, i know you do. mr. ‘if i leave with a girl tonight, can you stay at Jack’s?’”

he huffs at my interpretation of his voice.

“i love you, but i’m not letting you cock-block me.” he shrugs, crossing his arms.

“well, look at you now. getting home drunk, with beer down your shirt, and no pussy.” i joke, parking the car in the spot for his apartment and turning it off.

“hey, i came home with pussy.” he defends, gaping at me in mock offense.

“none that you’re getting.”

***

it’s sunday evening, the day before i leave.

the guys won their game last night, 6-2, but alas, i got too drunk with Dawson’s girlfriend, Ryleigh, to end up going out celebrating with them.

but Jack, Luke, Dawson, Ryleigh, Nico, and John were gracious enough to agree to a 2nd celebration tonight, so that i could experience a Devils win celly before i have to return home to Massachusetts.

i stare in the mirror at the little black dress that adorns my body, holding up two pairs of shoes, attempting to decide between comfort and style.

John walks past the open bathroom door, glancing over as he walks past before backing up and staring. his eyes squint and his lips purse before he makes a decision.

“the heels.” he tells me. “but bring the flats in your purse, so you can change when your feet start to hurt.”

i nod, looking over at him with a smile. “this is why you’re the harvard graduate.”

he laughs, shaking his head as he walks away, and i follow behind him to the kitchen grabbing my purse and sticking my flats inside.

“i’m warning you now, you might need to find somewhere else to sleep tonight. or else you may not get much.” John winks and i roll my eyes, but my smile sticks to my face.

“sure.” i retort. “i predict that this’ll go just like friday night and i’ll be helping you stumble through that door by midnight.”

my head nods over to the front door and his cheeks turn red at the reminder.

“not happening.” his head shakes as he grabs a water from the fridge. “i’m staying hydrated and i’m limiting myself to two beers.”

“i’m sure you are, Johnny.”

he crinkles his nose at my response before heading towards the door. “c’mon or we’ll be late.”

i rush behind him, half hopping as i pull my heels on my feet.

“slow down, i have heels on.” i whine but he just laughs.

“and little legs.” he snickers, earning a smack on the back for his comment. “ow! okay, sorry! jeez, you ever thought of playing baseball with an arm like that?”

“i’ll leave the sports playing to you. i’m good on the reporting side.”

John points towards our uber as we step outside the apartment building, pushing me towards it with a hand on my mid-back. he opens the car door and motions for me to slide in first before he joins me in the back seat.

the car ride is relatively fast, and just how i like it; quiet. our driver doesn’t attempt any small talk and John and i sit on our phones, occasionally showing each other a meme and making the other let out a silent puff of laughter. the driver bids us goodbye when we arrive to the club, and John walks straight up to the bouncer, telling him our names and allowing him to check the list to see that we indeed have a table rented.

Dawson, Ryleigh, and Nico are already there when we arrive, nursing beers. the two guys are discussing a bad play that occurred at last nights game, Ryleigh sitting idly beside her boyfriend with her chin in her hand and a mildly bored expression, but much to her delight, they drop the discussion when we arrive.

Dawson hops up from his seat, dapping up John before greeting me with a hug, Ryleigh pushing him from my arms as soon as he begins to pull away.

“thank god you’re here! i love hockey, i mean, i played it, but there’s only so many times i can hear the words ‘that play could’ve been prevented if…’ before i go insane!” she yells over the loud music, pulling me away from the table.

“let’s go get drinks!” she shouts and i allow her to lead me toward the bar, looking over my shoulder to find the guys sitting at the table, back to discussing last nights game.

Ryleigh and i push our way through the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies, stopping at the bar, and rather than waiting politely like Nico and i did at the bar, she waves down the bartender immediately.

“a martini, please!” she tells him, the attention immediately draws to me after she orders and my mind is left blank.

“uh, a tequila sunrise and a beer please. corona.” i sputter off the first things that come to mind and the bartender nods, setting off to make our drinks.

“two drinks?” Ryleigh questions.

“the beer is for John.” i clarify and she nods.

“so what’s up with you two anyways? are you like, together?”

“no. just friends since high school!” a look of realization settles across her face before her lips pull into a smirk.

“oh okay, that explains why Dawson was teasing Nico earlier.” i bite my lip at the mention of the swiss man that sits across the club.

“what do you mean? what was he teasing him about?”

“you.” she wiggles her eyebrows, but then turns to give a nasty glare as a drunken man stumbles into her back, pushing her into me. she spins back to me with a smile, after successfully making the man cower with just a look. “he was asking Nico if he was gonna take his chance with you. i thought it was weird, because i definitely thought there was something going on between you and John, but if you guys are just friends then it makes sense. so, are you gonna sleep with the captain tonight?!”

“well-” i’m cut off by the bartender, our drinks being slid in front of us, and Ryleigh tells him to put them on the tab for our table, which is under Jack’s name.

“did you just basically make Jack pay for our drinks?” i laugh as we make our way back through the crowd towards our table.

“he won’t even notice.” she waves dismissively. “now, what were you saying?”

i open my mouth to respond, but we’ve reached the table now, so i just send her an ‘oops’ look as she pouts.

“sweet, that for me?” John cheers, holding his hand out for the beer.

“no, this is for you.” i smile sweetly, holding out the cocktail and making his face drop. the guys laugh and i notice Jack and Luke have joined the table now.

“haha.” John deadpans. “you know i don’t do tequila. or orange juice.”

“yeah, you’re weird.” i crinkle my nose, handing him the corona and sitting down beside him, right across from the man Ryleigh were talking about minutes prior.

he looks so good. his hair is slicked back but not gelled, his facial hair cleanly groomed, and he wears a black button up. i can’t even see the rest of his outfit under the table, but i already know that it would make me instantly wet.

“hello, y/n.” Nico smirks when he sees that he’s caught my eye, his accent like music to my ears.

“hi, captain.” i’m grateful for the dim lighting of the nightclub, hiding the blush that rises to my cheeks upon being caught.

“did you like the game last night?”

“oh, yeah. i had a ton of fun, and you guys played great.” i reply. “it was nice being able to watch a game and not have to take any notes for articles.”

he laughs and butterflies dance in my stomach at the sound.

“maybe you should visit more often then.” he raises an eyebrow and i bite my lip, nodding.

“maybe i should.”

he seems content with my agreement, sitting back in his seat and tuning back into the conversation of the table. but i’m still entranced, watching him take a sip of his beer, his tongue gliding across his lip to retrieve a drop that clung to it.

i feel a nudge to my side and i see John smirking, wiggling his eyebrows as his eyes flick between me and his captain.

“shut up.” i stage-whisper, kicking his shin under the table. his face scrunches in pain, and jaw drops before he mouths ‘soccer’ and i roll my eyes.

i turn back around to find Nico watching us with an amused expression, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile, and i immediately flush.

“hey Ryleigh, wanna dance?” the blonde grins at my words, nodding excessively and untangling herself from Dawson’s arms.

she waits at the end of the table for me to meet her, locking arms with me when i do so, and we make our way to the dance floor, not too far from the table.

we sing along to the song with smiles on our faces, bouncing our bodies. this continues for a few songs before she holds my hand in the air as i lower my body slowly, grinding my hips in the air as i drop and then bounce back up.

my line of sight gravitates towards the table, locking eyes with a smirking Nico, who’s already watching me. i keep the eye contact as i grind my hips against the air, running a hand through my hair then letting it slide down my body. feeling confident, i send him a wink before i turn back to Ryleigh.

it’s not but a moment later that she grins, wiggling her eyebrows before quickly excusing herself to the table, and i’m left confused until i feel hands rest upon my hips, a body pressing against my back.

“were you a dancer at one point? or are your hips just naturally this fucking entrancing?” the swiss accent is whispered into my ear, his stubble scratching against the side of my neck, causing a delicious sensation to run down my body.

“guess it’s all natural.” my neck cranes to look back at Nico, making a point to wiggle my hips against him.

he groans, pulling my body closer to his, and i’m just about ready to let him have his way right then and there, on the dance floor where everyone can see.

“you gonna take me home with you tonight? or are you gonna let your chance slip away again?” i’m barely audible over the loud music, but i know he’s heard me when he smirks once again, his hands gripping my hips a little tighter.

“you know i’m not looking for anything serious. right, schatzi?” there’s that nickname again, and though i can’t guarantee, i know it means something good.

“and what makes you think i am?” i hum.

he chuckles lowly, his hand leaving my waist in order to tangle with mine. he doesn’t speak, rather pulling me back towards the table.

my mood deflates, believing that he’s decided i’m not worth it, but i’m mistaken when he holds out my purse, raising an eyebrow when i don’t take it right away.

“have you changed you mind?” he questions and i snatch the bag from his grasp, letting him lead me away.

i wave a goodbye to the table, who’s now chirping us, Dawson wolf-whistling and Jack calling out a ‘get it, Neeks!’. John is shaking is head, but his smile provides me with the comfort of knowing that he’s not actually bothered by me hooking up with his teammate.

i learn that Nico’s apartment is a mere ten minute walk from the club, and all ten minutes are spent in the quiet sexual tension that reverberates between us.

it’s not until the elevator doors close, that his lips crash upon mine; his hands on my cheeks, and his body presses flush against me, no space left between us. my spine arches, my upper back coming in contact with the elevator wall, but he just pushes me back further, our lips moving in sync.

the kiss is sloppy, our tongues exploring the others mouths and our hands tangled in each others hair, but it’s cut off quicker than i’d have liked by the doors opening.

he pulls away rather hesitantly, leading me down the hall and hastily unlocking his apartment door. he steps in first, holding the door open for me, and i follow after him.

i don’t get much of a chance to scan my surroundings before his lips are back on mine. my body being caged against the now-shut door. my teeth graze his bottom lip, his hands gripping my waist tightly. his kisses trail away from my mouth, now littering down my jawline and onto my neck.

my breathing is heavy as his tongue flicks across my pulse-point, his hands sliding lower to grab my ass under my dress, and i gasp as he nips at my neck, soothing the sting with a kiss.

my hips grind up to meet his but he steps back, his eyes meeting mine. his lips are swollen, and tinted with my red lipstick, and wicked smile on his face as he begins to lower himself to his knees. my hands drop with him, my purse hitting the floor with a thud, and his fingertips lightly graze down my thighs before pushing the hem of my dress up.

“is this okay?” my heart beats faster at his question, my head nodding in approval, and he accepts my consent, pushing my dress even further up my torso. “hold this.”

i obey his instructions, the satin fabric cool in my trembling hands. he knocks me off balance when he pulls one of my legs up, my thigh now resting on his shoulder, and if i hadn’t already been leaning against the door, i surely would have fallen.

his eyes keep contact with mine, peppering kisses up my thigh until he reaches my core. his tongue darts out to lick me through the lace of my thong, and a moan pours out of my lips, my eyes closing and my head dropping back against the door. my hands tangle into his hair, both to steady my balance, and to ready myself for him.

his hot breath fans over my pussy as he licks once more, and i’m unable to stop myself from grinding against his tongue, making him chuckle as he pulls back. i whine at the loss of contact, my eyes flying open, and i look back down just in time to watch him pull my panties to the side. his eyes flick back up to mine and i whimper when he makes direct contact with my throbbing clit.

his tongue swirls around it and i cry out in pleasure, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Nico.” his name falls from my lips like a prayer, and he pulls back making me pout.

“don’t go calling me by my name now.” my mind is fuzzy, my body alight with pleasure, and i wrack my brain to understand his meaning until it hits me.

i’ve been calling him ‘captain’.

“yes, captain.” i whisper, my voice sultry as i use the leg that’s hooked over his shoulder to nudge him back towards me.

he chuckles lowly at my neediness, but resumes his assault against my clit, flicking over it before dragging his tongue down to my entrance. he licks me like it’s his last meal, spreading my wetness around the area before and letting his nose bump against the bundle of nerves.

i shudder, my hands tugging against his hair while simultaneously pushing him deeper, and he moans against me, sending the vibrations straight into my core.

“captain.” my voice catches in my throat, i can feel myself getting closer to my orgasm the longer he continues, and when he sucks my clit between his lips, rolling it as his fingers prod at my entrance, i know i won’t last much longer. “i’m so close!”

he slips two fingers in, curling them and making me groan at the feeling of fullness. his tongue works against my clit as his fingers pump in and out, building that familiar feeling in my stomach, my hips stuttering against him.

“right there!” i squeak out as his fingers brush against just the right spot, and he takes the initiative to hit that spot a few more times, his pace speeding up. “oh god- i’m gonna come!”

with just a few more licks against my clit and the feeling of his fingers against my g-spot, my legs shake, my knees beginning to buckle as i release all over his hand and tongue.

he pulls away, rising to his feet and smirking at the sound that leaves my lips from the feeling of emptiness where his fingers once were. his hands now hold my hips to keep me upright, his chin and lips glistening with my cum, and i bite my lip at the sight.

“you taste so good, beautiful.” i’m sure that if my pussy wasn’t already throbbing, it would’ve started at those words.

his hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss. i can taste my arrival on his tongue and lips, causing me to moan into the kiss.

he pulls back, his hand lacing in mine as he pulls me towards his bedroom, and it’s then that it sinks in.

i just got tongue fucked against a door.

i giggle at the realization, making him look back at me with furrowed eyebrows and a smile.

“we only met each other just the other day, but god, the way you make me feel.” he grunts out, as we enter his bedroom, turning us so i walk backwards, the backs of my knees hitting the edge of his bed.

“you’ve got me feeling some type of way too.” i smirk, pulling his lips back down to mine. his lips part and i slip my tongue past them, pushing against his own.

“i’ve never come that fast.” i whisper against his lips. “it was surreal.”

“i’ve never gotten down on my knees like that for a girl.” he chuckles. “always kinda thought that was a figure of speech when it came to guys, but when i had you there, it’s like it came naturally for me to just kneel down and fuck you with my tongue.”

i pull away with wide eyes.

“are you telling me that was your first time giving oral?” i gape and his head tips back in laughter.

“no! did it feel like it was?”

“definitely not.” my cheeks turn red and his hand cups my face, his thumb trailing over my blush.

“i’ve obviously given oral, just never in that position.” he clarifies. “it’s always been in bed, or the one time on the couch.”

i laugh at his scrunched nose.

“that one wasn’t extremely comfortable.” he confesses, his head tilting.

“i can imagine.” i joke before pulling his head back down for another kiss, tired of the small talk.

he sucks at my bottom lip, his hand sliding around my head to tug at my hair, pulling my head back.

“tell me what you’re thinking.” he whispers, his voice low and raspy. “tell me what you want.”

my eyes flutter, rolling back in my head at his demanding tone.

“i wanna ride you.” i confess breathily.

his touch disappears as he steps back, my eyes shooting open to watch as his hands magnetize to his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from his pants. his shirt is next, unbuttoning it and allowing it to fall open, giving me the chance to admire his wonderfully sculpted abs. he pulls the shirt from his body before he unbuttons his pants, his eyes watching me as mine watch him get naked, widening slightly when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

his erection springs free from the confinement of his pants, the tip red and already leaking pre-cum. my tongue drags across my bottom lip, but he shoots me a warning look, reminding me that i can’t suck him off if i want him inside of me. and oh how badly i want that.

Nico walks around me, rounding the bed and searching in his nightstand before his hand reappears with a foil packet, the dim lighting of his bedside lamp glinting off of it. i watch silently as he sits in the middle of the bed, gnawing at my lip as he tears open the foil, rolling the condom on with a groan.

his eyes stare me down, his brows raising in waiting.

“i wanna see you undress now.” he tells me, shaking me out of my trance.

my hands tremble as i slip the straps of my dress off my shoulders, pulling my arms out and letting the satin dress glide off my body into a pool of fabric on the floor. i kick my heels off next, letting them fall to the wood and tangle in my dress, before lastly bending over to pull my my thong down my legs, stepping out of it and dropping it to the floor to join my other items.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” his praise gives me a boost of confidence, my spine straightening. “come here and then turn around.”

his finger curls, drawing me towards him, and i crawl up the bed to straddle his waist.

“i said turn around.” he reminds me, his hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

i nod, turning myself around so my back faces him, looking over my shoulder to find his eyes glued to my ass. i smirk in amusement, rolling my hips so his dick slides between my wet folds.

“fuck.” he groans, grasping at his base and tapping it against my clit, teasing me a couple times.

“please, captain.” i plead, my head falling forward as my eyes squeeze shut.

the head of his cock lines up with my cunt and i take the initiative to back up onto him, filling myself up with his length. i let out a breathy sigh in contentment as he moans at the feeling of my walls closing around him.

my eyes roll back in my head as i grind onto him, the pleasure wracking my body is intense and i can’t keep myself from crying out as he thrusts his hips up into me.

“that’s it, baby. scream it out.” he grunts, his voice tight. “let my neighbors know how good i’m making you feel.”

i bounce my hips, my hands finding his thighs to best support myself as i do so. his hands grip my waist so tightly that i’m sure there’ll be bruises there tomorrow, but i can’t find it in myself to care, the pleasure overtaking any kind of pain.

the room fills with the sound of his dick pumping in and out of my wet pussy, and the echoes of our moans. my breath shaky as i call out.

“yes, captain!” my words are breathy but loud, and he thrusts up harshly at the nickname. “oh my god!”

he taps my ass, pulling me off with his grasp on my hips, and rising to his knees, leaving me on all fours in front of him, before he slams back into me. my breath hitches, my arms giving out as he speeds up his pace but never relenting in his harsh rhythm.

my upper body presses into the mattress, my jaw dropped open as shaky moans fall from my lips, whimpers escaping every few thrusts when he hits a certain spot, my hands gripping the sheets as i buck my hips back into his.

“feel so fucking good.” he huffs, and i look back to watch his face contort in pleasure, his sweaty hair falling into his eyes. “like you were made for me.”

his hand slides down my spine, making me shiver and arch my back, his dick hitting in just the right spot.

the knot in my stomach winds itself tighter and tighter, like a thousand rubber bands wrapped around a water bottle, just waiting for it to burst. and i know i’m done-for when his free hand circles around to rub my clit, still a bit overstimulated from our previous activities in his apartment entryway.

“holy fuck.” i choke, my pussy clenching around him. his grunt reaches my ears and my legs begin to tremble. “gonna come! please, captain, can i come?”

“go ahead, baby. make a mess on my cock.” he hums, and that’s all it takes for my breath to catch, my face turning red as i reach my second orgasm of the night, burying my face in the sheets to muffle my sobs.

his strokes become sloppy, faster and less rhythmic. “fuck- i’m gonna-”

i nod my head at his choppy words, whispering a few resounding ‘yes’s before he stills, his hips stuttering as a low sound leaving his throat as he releases into the condom.

i squeak as he pulls out of me, pulling me up against his chest before flopping back onto the bed.

“oh my god.” i breathe, listening to him pant, my eyes still screwed shut.

“tell me about it.” he huffs breathlessly, squeezing me to his side.

“like, oh my god.” i emphasize, causing a laugh to push past his lips.

he slips out from the bed, discarding the now used condom in the trash can before disappearing into the en-suite bathroom, coming back with a wet washcloth. he kneels beside me on the bed, cleaning me up before getting back up and throwing the washcloth in the bathroom sink and leaving the bedroom altogether.

my brows thread together in confusion, but i’m much too spent to follow, so i lie in the bed waiting for his return. which ultimately comes as he enters with two water bottles and my phone.

“this was going off in your purse.” he tells me, handing me my phone and a bottle of water.

i thank him as i check the device, finding three missed calls from John and a few texts.

___

from: Johnny Hockey 🏒♥️

whoops, sorry, forgot you were boinking!

___

from: Johnny Hockey 🏒♥️

you’re still coming home tonight though, right?

cause sorry to burst your sex bubble, but i’m not packing your shit and dropping by Nico’s at 8am to get you for your flight.

___

i let out a cackle at my best friends choice of words, typing back a response and letting him know i will, indeed, be going back to his apartment.

“John?” Nico guesses correctly, his arm snaking around my waist as i lock my phone.

“yeah.” i nod, allowing him to pull me tighter to his chest. “he wanted to make sure i was still coming back to his apartment to pack my stuff. plus, we have plans to get breakfast before my flight tomorrow and he was making it known that he would not be picking me up from here to do that.”

Nico chuckles. “so you’re leaving now?”

i feign offense, clutching a hand to my heart.

“trying to get rid of me so soon, Nico? right after we meddled about in these very sheets?!” i joke, and he shakes his head.

“nah, i guess you can stay a little bit.” he teases back, rolling his eyes jokingly and making me giggle in response.

“so…” i trail off, looking over at him. “round two?”

“wouldn’t this technically be round three?” he laughs. “you’re insatiable.”

i shrug with a cheeky grin. “just trying to make the most out of this night. i can’t guarantee when i’ll see you next.”

he smirks, hovering over me, his lips trailing kisses down my body, lingering on my tits.

“in that case,” he starts, pausing to let his tongue swirl my peaked nipple, successfully pulling a moan from my lips. “i can think of a few more ways to spend tonight.”

i bite my lip as i smile, one thought screaming in my hazy mind.

tonight will be fun.

#nico hischier smut #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier imagine #nhl smut #nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nj devils #faithlynn’s writings <3

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httpscomexe · 1 month

Note

I’ve recently become obsessed with Wade Wilson and Logan Howlett, and I love your FSD and Ensnared series.

I wanted to make a request on a poolverine one where Deadpool and Wolverine were both hired by the Avengers to find the reader and bring her to the tower because even though she’s just a normal civilian, she actually has some secret shit up her sleeves like a Mafia boss or something, but they kinda grow on her?

Thank you 💛❤️

Risk of Contract - Red and Yellow

Summary: You’re back to partying after a few years of giving up, but of course, your idols have to get in the way, and you quickly learn just how bad you’ve fucked up with the Avengers.

(Find what I'm currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Pairings: Logan x Reader x Wade

Warnings: Individual Warnings PerChapter - Kidnapping, drugging, language, cruel jokes, underage drinking, mentions of murder, blood, fight, sexual jokes, Honda odyssey, early stage obsession? Logan and Wade are both warnings.

Word count: 4815 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, please let me know through an ask, DM, or comment. Thank you. (This fic is going to be a non-con with triggering kinks such as blood kinks and pain kinks)

P.P.S. Red and Yellow=Wade and Logan, Yellow=Logan, Red=Wade

There it was again. Another TikTok edit of Logan Howlett on your FYP. You’ve considered deleting all of your socials a few times. Your little crush had developed into an obsession. Which, for some reason, was becoming unhealthy. For some unknown reason, it made you genuinely sad that you knew you would never be able to meet Wolverine or Deadpool. Hell, you lived right in New York, and you’ve never even seen Spiderman for fucks sake. Everyone else has, but for some reason, you haven’t.

It actually made you jealous of your friends.

Yea, you were a normal college student who was working for your degree, but you lived in the heart of the city and you’ve never seen any of the heroes. Worst of all, you’ve never seen Wolverine or Deadpool, your idols. They weren’t the best to look up to, but you loved them.

Every edit you got on instagram or TikTok almost had you crying yourself to sleep.

So yea, it was unhealthy.

But you couldn’t help it. And with Halloween being today, it was even worse. Maybe a Wolverine costume wasn’t per-say the best idea.

You felt like a weirdo being obsessed with the two men, but you didn’t care.

You’re a loner in the school. The only reason people knew you was because you’ve shown up to parties on multiple occasions uninvited, but one specific time you got overly drunk, and your ex just wouldn’t leave you alone. So you got into a bit of a fight, and broke some kids' furniture.

That was in the past though, and he finally forgave you after two years, so there you were again. Dressed in a slutty Wolverine costume, walking up the front steps of the rich kids mansion, his parents went out on their annual work trip for Halloween.

Of course, you weren’t the only one dressed as Wolverine. The fight for humanity was just won to protect your earth, so obviously everyone was dressed as them. The most realistic being some of the football players.

“Hey! Y/N!” You turn as your friend runs towards you, a bald cap on her head. She was dressed as Charles Xavier of course. She was still disappointed she wouldn’t be able to bring a wheelchair to the party. Her definition of a cruel joke. “Love it, you look hot.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, bringing your hands up to show the claws you programmed to come out upon clicking a button with your thumb, her mouth making an ‘O’ shape as they retract.

“That’s cool as fuck, I wish I was smart, your costume is way cooler than mine.”

“Pfft, what? You are absolutely rocking that bald cap.”

“Oh har har, very funny.” She walks up to the front doors of the mansion with you. “I’m glad Luke is letting you back in, just don’t fight anyone this time please.”

“I’m not promising anything.” She rolls her eyes and shows one of Luke’s bodyguards the texts on her phone which proved she was invited, then you show yours.

“You again? There better not be another fight.”

“Promise.” You tell him, your friend looking back and rolling her eyes.

“What happened to no promises?” She whispers, a smirk on her face as she walks in with you.

“They don’t count.” You tell her, immediately making your way to the table with red cups, and you quickly pour yourself a drink.

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink this time?”

“Oh hush, don’t deny me my happiness.”

“Still think you should go to rehab.” You give her a look, which she immediately takes as a sign to shut up.

“Hey, surprised you showed up.” An arm lays over your shoulder, you look over to see your best friend, and he’s dressed as Spiderman for the fifth year in a row.

“Spiderman again, Peter?”

“He’s my favourite, I think he’s cool.”

“He’s probably not.” You shrug, messing with him.

“Well you’ve never met him.”

“Yea, well I’m not as lucky as you.” You roll your eyes, taking the first sip of your drink.

“Hey Ned, how’s it going?” Peter's arm leaves your shoulder, and he goes to greet Ned before they do their long ass secret handshake. One they do so often you’ve memorised it.

“Peter Parker?” Flash… “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I come here every year…”

Their conversation fades out as you stop listening to it. Flash being the asshole you fought with in the first place.

You start to think again that maybe you shouldn’t be there. You could always go to another party or just get drunk in your own dorm, you weren’t sure why you even bothered coming.

Right.

Michelle.

“Hey, yay. You came.” MJ nudges you to get your attention. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long.” You answer her, drinking some more and you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but you ignore it.

“Are you alright?”

“Yea, why?”

“You seem different.” She tells you, tilting her head up a little and her eyes stare down at you. “I don’t know what it is.”

“I don’t-”

“Did you take drugs?”

“What- No-”

“I’m joking, calm down, you don’t have to take everything so seriously.” She teases.

“I’m not taking anything seriously.” You chuckle. “I’m totally chill right now.”

“Oh my God, stop yelling at me, it was a joke.”

“You jerk.” You playfully punch her shoulder. Her little tactic to put a smile on your face works, as usual. You take another sip of your drink, the alcohol easily slipping down your throat.

Looking around the mansion, which was now filled with people, your suspicions were true. A majority of the kids were in their Deadpool and Wolverine costumes.

“What are you supposed to be right now?” You ask MJ, your eyes trailing up and down her costume. It was like a child mashed together a bunch of colours.

“Oh my little sister made it for me. I’m Captain Spider.”

“Captain Spider?”

“Yea, Captain America and Spiderman.”

You try not to laugh, you really do. And you don’t.

It comes out as more of a snort. Then it turns into a laugh.

“Not funny, she worked so hard on it.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You continue laughing, covering your mouth to try hiding it.

“Are you already drunk?”

“What? No…” You lie. “What makes you think that?”

“You giggle a lot when you’re drunk, but not normal giggling, it's obnoxious.”

“Oh please, go find your boyfriend. He’s Spiderman.”

“What about you?”

“I think I’m gonna leave.” You see the visible disappointment on her face as you tell her you’re going to leave soon. You didn’t like the party aspect of parties. Always too many people.

Then there was Flash…

“Hey, glad you finally forgave me.” Shit.

“Who says I forgave you?”

“Well you showed up so I assumed-”

“I don’t forgive you.”

There’s silence between the two of you before MJ speaks up.

“Let’s um… Let’s calm down, how about Flash you go that way, and Y/N-”

“Yea Y/N, calm down.” Flash interrupts her.

“Don’t interrupt my friend…”

“Or what?” He puts his drink down on a nearby table, a little harshly as some alcohol jumps out and drips onto the table under it.

“I beat your ass last time I’ll do it again.” You tell him, you head tuning out MJs voice.

“You did not win that fight.”

“You would’ve been in the hospital if Peter hadn’t pulled me off of you.”

“You weren’t even close to that level.”

“I broke your nose, asshole, why do you think your face isn’t symmetrical anymore?”

“One more word.” He warns, but you only smirk. You throw your head back, finishing your drink in one big gulp before setting down your empty red cup next to his full one.

“Fuck you.”

Your hand swings first, before he can even process what you had said. He looks back up, stunned from the punch as a trickle of blood leaks from his nose.

“I think I fixed it.”

“Asshole!” He jumps at you, knocking you into some other people dressed as animals.

“Hey!” You hear Luke’s voice, his dumbass shouldn’t have invited you again. Or he shouldn’t have invited you both at least, that would’ve been logical.

He tries to get to you as you easily overpower Flash, on top of him as he covers his face, preventing you from throwing punches at his nose, but his arms were sure to have bruises. You knew Luke wouldn’t be able to reach the two of you, he was skinny, and the crowd of people barely moved an inch as he tried to push them out of the way.

“You fucking bitch get off!” Flash yells from underneath you, his hand finding an empty Cola can on the ground which he quickly smashes against the side of your head before getting up quickly, immediately grabbing something from the table as you pop onto your feet, you knew better than to turn your back on the person you’re fighting. “You crazy fucker…” He mumbles, a full bottle of alcohol in his hand being held by the neck, which he was ready to smash on you. But you didn’t care as you wiped a little sliver of blood off your cheek and walked towards him. You had much more experience in fighting than he ever will. “Come on! Come at me!”

“Do you ever shut up?” You groan, and he swings the bottle at you, which easily smashes over your head, and as you drop to the ground, your arms wrap around his legs, making some people gasp as you drop him back onto the ground, your knee sliding over broken glass as blood seeps through your Wolverine costume, your fist colliding with his jaw, not nearly all of your strength put into the punch, as you didn’t exactly plan on breaking his jaw.

Though it might do him some good.

And you were about to let him pull the white flag, your fist halfway in the air, preparing to come back down, but then he spoke again, and it pissed you off.

“You’re such a freak.” He pauses, and then the next part blows your steam.

“It’s no fucking wonder your dad abandoned you.”

You jaw clenches, and all mercy leaves you body as you’re about to put all of your strength into the punch, but a force stops you, and you’re forced to your feet.

“What the fuck?”

“What’s going on?”

“Y/N?”

“Her eyes…”

You hear everyone mumbling, but you don’t bother paying attention as the arms around your waist bring you away from Flash. You can’t seem to turn your head, your eyes are locked on him, some camera flashes hitting your pupils, but you ignore it. You wanted to fight-

No.

You wanted to fucking kill Flash.

But you’re dragged away, and only when a hand slaps you across the face do you snap out of it, and you’re outside now, two of the football players standing in front of you. One in a Deadpool costume, the other in their Wolverine costume.

In anger, you shove at the one dressed as Wolverine, and he barely budges as he stares down at you, his mask covering his face.

“What the fuck man! I had him!” You shout as you push him. “Fuck!” You scream, the outside of the mansion's front yard completely empty as everyone else continues partying inside.

“Not very pretty words for a very pretty mouth.” Excuse you?

“Excuse me?” You look at the one dressed as Deadpool, your voice stunned, sounding offended as he stares down at you.

“How about you calm down?”

If another person tells me to calm the fuck down…” You shout the last few words, it was worse than being told to smile more.

And for the first time, you look up at the dude's face who was wearing the Wolverine costume. He was a full grown fucking man. He almost looked like… No, it wasn't possible.

There was no way the real Deadpool and Wolverine would just show up to some random Halloween party, they had more important things to deal with.

Or so you thought.

But then your stomach drops as the man takes off his mask.

It was really him.

You turn your head to look at the guy in the Deadpool costume- err- suit. He had already removed his mask.

Sure enough, it was the real deal.

“What the fuck-?” You mumble.

Of all the ways you see these guys face to face, it was like this.

Blood leaking down your face from your scalp because a bottle was smashed on your skull, your lips also covered in it from the amount of blood, well- basically the entire right side of your face was covered in the blood, some still occasionally dripping down from the cut on your scalp, and you knees were also blooded, along with a huge gash on your thigh as it seeped through your yellow costume, staining the fabric.

“You got a nice punch for a college girl.” Wolverine speaks up finally, his arms crossed as he stares down at you, almost like he hates you.

“Well that's because she’s a bit more than that, ain’t that right?” Deadpool asks you rhetorically, and you debate how to answer it before your phone starts ringing in your pocket.

You pull it out, the screen now cracked from the fight, the screen telling you that ‘Mark’ was calling, so you pick it up and take a step back from your idols.

“Hey man, what’s uh- what’s up?”

“Did you get my text?”

“Probably, I just haven't seen it yet, why?”

“Well how about you look at it, it’s really fucking important.” He hangs up. Such an ass.

You open the messaging app, one notification from him.

And your heart stops.

Shit. You tell yourself.

Shit.

You slowly look back up at the two men. They knew exactly what the call was about.

Of course, you finally meet these two, in the wrong setting, at the wrong time, wearing the wrong thing, and for the wrong reason. Couldn’t possibly be worse.

“Anyways, uh… I should- I should really go-” You tell them, your voice shaking embarrassingly as you take a few steps back, they take the same amount of steps forward.

So you break out in a run, it doesn’t last long though.

You’re quickly stopped, your hair pulled as one of them drag you back.

“Woah there biscuits, we just wanna talk.” Wade turns you around, holding you by your shoulders as Logan tenses up, just waiting for you to run. “We’re not gonna kill you, just a few questions and we will be out of your hair.”

“Really?”

“Yes, then replaced by Nick Fury's agents.” You scoff as he keeps you still. You don’t bother fighting back, you knew damn well you wouldn’t be able to overpower him.

“Wonderful that makes this so much better. Look.” You gently take his hands off your shoulders. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m definitely not who you think I am.”

“Oh you are. We know exactly who you are.” Logan speaks.

“Who am I then? I am a twenty year old college girl with a drinking problem who goes to my friend's drama club every Friday. Doesn’t sound very Wolverine and Deadpool worthy.” You blab out, hoping they’d just leave you alone.

“No, see. You’re the girl who was abandoned, or rather ran away,” Ouch. “At a very young age because of daddy issues, who decided that she would cope with the loss by becoming a very, very hated bounty hunter, mercenary, assassin, whatever you may go by.” Wade spits out, nodding a little in the end. “But we just have a few questions.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again, your mouth is too pretty to be saying that nasty word-”

“Wade enough.” Logan shuts him up, and looks down at you, bending down a little to reach your height. “You going to tell us everything you know about your boss, or we are going to have our fun fucking your face up before we give you to Fury.”

“Again, you have the wrong person.”

“Give it.” He stands straight, holding his hand out to Wade as the guy in red reaches into his pocket, placing a syringe into his palm. “You don’t wanna talk? Fine. We won’t let you go.” He tells you, taking the cap off the needle and grabbing you as you try to move away before stabbing the pin into the side of your neck, and he pushes the contents into your veins.

When you wake up, it feels like you’ve been sleeping in a dusty room for years, your body immediately gasping and coughing for years as the smell of alcohol and murky water clouding your lungs like we're in a swamp.

Your head spins, and you groan in pain, whatever they injected you with fucking hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised if it expired as you sit there, feeling paralyzed. Each of your limbs in pain and a tear falls from your eye, but you sit up, the worst of the pain targeted towards your waist, like you’ve done a thousand curl ups without a break.

The room is as you expect it to look, the murky scent of a swamp on making you lightheaded. There’s a green glow on the walls as the sun shines through a window curtain, and you’re sitting in a bed that was more than likely the origin of the smell, a dirty hand rag sitting on the edge.

“Fucking disgusting…” You mumble as you throw your feet over the edge of the bed, your bare skin touching the cold, worn wooden floor. You make your way to the bedroom door, expecting it to be locked but it opens easily, the hinges screaming as you slowly open it, checking for anyone in sight, but there was no one. Until a head peeks up from behind a counter.

“Are you awake girl?” The voice asks, an older woman's face looking towards the area you were standing in, but not quite. “Hello? I swear I heard the door open…” She mumbles, and stumbles towards you. She’s blind. You realise, stepping to the side slightly to avoid her running into you.

“H-Hi?”

“Oh! Hi. So you are awake.”

“Yes, sorry. Where am I?” You ask as she begins to walk back over to behind the counters, tripping on the way over a box but catching herself.

“Dammit Wade, stop moving things…” She growls, her teeth clenched. “You are in my humble abode. Wade said to keep you here until he got back.”

“Well, I have to go-” You take a single step towards the front door, but stop.

“My name is Althea hun, what’s yours?” She asks, and you tell her your name. “That’s a very pretty name. Wade and his friend Logan have said a lot about you.”

“Have they…?” You roll your eyes a little. What could those two possibly say about you, someone they’ve never met before.

“Yea, they tell me you’re stubborn, but you’re smart.”

“That's… not a lot, but okay.”

“Oh there’s more, mainly from Wade but I don’t think you want to hear the sexual fantasies that I was cursed to listen to from the day I met him.” Your eyes squint in confusion, and your mouth moves as if you’re about to say something, but nothing comes out. “Are you hungry? I know Wade has some leftover mac and cheese, but it’s shaped like unicorns. Although I can’t see very well obviously and I personally think they’re shaped like a penis. Or at least that’s what the shape feels like when I eat it.” She opens the fridge taking out a tupperware bowl and she slides it onto the counter. With as much as you wanted to leave, you didn’t want to be rude.

“Yea no they uh…” You look down at the leftover noodles. “Yea those aren’t unicorns.”

“I fucking knew it.”

“OH! That was amazing! A-M-A-Z-I-N-G!” You turn around quickly, and you’re met with Wade removing his mask as Logan walks in behind him like a lost puppy. Logan's eyes quickly land on you while Wade talks about whatever was so amazing. “Gasp! She’s awake.”

“You don’t actually say gasp, Wade.”

“Well it’s more fun to say gasp than to gasp you should try it some time. Oh wait, you’re too busy grumbling to be able to gasp.” Ironically, Logan grumbles something under his breath. “Well hey there goody-two-shoes. Has blind Al kept you entertained?” Blind Al? He hooks his arm over Althea's shoulders and takes the tupperware of noodles from her. “What’s wrong? Not a fan of the unicorn noods?” He laughs a little, opening the container before picking up some of the noodles with his fingers and shoving them into his mouth as Althea mumbles something you don’t hear, then there’s a presence behind you.

“How long have you been awake?” Logan asks you, his hand settling on your shoulder as you jump to the sound of his voice.

“She hasn’t been up long. Maybe five minutes.” Althea answers for you. “Now are you sure you aren’t hungry? We’ve got crackers, cup noodles-”

“I ate the cup noodles.” Wade interrupts.

“Well we have crackers still and-”

“I ate the crackers with the noodles.”

I’m sure we have half a cucumber left in the fridge.”

“What? Last time I used that thing it wasn’t cut.”

“Used?”

There’s a long silence before Logan speaks up again. “Look, kid.” He makes you face him. “We just have some questions. S.H.I.E.L.D wanted us to bring you to them, but they have this torture method I’m not very fond of that they use when people don’t co-operate.” He explains, his eyes staring into yours, searching for an understanding. “And I know you aren’t the co-operating type, to Wade and I thought it would be best to bring you here. But if you don’t cooperate with us…” He gives you a warning look, and you nod a little. “Good.”

“I just don’t get why they need to question me.”

“You’re smart. And that makes you a threat.” He tells you, and sighs. “So are you hungry?”

“I’m okay.”

“You haven’t eaten in two days.”

“Two-” You stutter, your eyes widening and your eyebrows quirking up. “Two days?”

“Yea, and you don’t even wanna know what Wade did in the bed next to-”

“Okay Ms. Menopause, don’t you have an eye appointment at 2?” Wade shuts her up.

“Why would I have an eye appointment? I’m blind.”

“Let's talk outside.” Logan grabs your arm, and leads you outside of the little apartment.

“I just don’t get it, I didn’t do anything wrong. At least not recently.”

“You have a suit.” Fuck. You freeze as he brings you into the hallway and looks down at you. His height is more intimidating than it should be.

“I- Have… A suit?”

“Yes. Which Tony Stark believes was created by Stark tech. He had a shipment that was stolen last week, and it’s leading back to you.” You stand there speechless. Feeling ridiculous as your shift on your feet, still wearing your Wolverine costume. You didn’t steal shit.

“I did not steal anything.” You answer him honestly. Who in their right minds would steal Stark tech? That’s a death wish.

“Well, they say otherwise, so until you can prove your innocence and that you are not a threat, especially considering you murder people for a living-”

“Woah okay.” You put your hands up defensively. “I have not murdered someone in a little over two months, it gets stressful.”

“Big pay.”

“Really big pay, but not enough for me to do it like it’s a full time job.”

“Then how do you make money on the side? Part time theft?”

“Are you kidding?” You ask, genuinely. “No, I’m a lab assistant at the college I go to.”

“Is that where you get your tech?”

“No, I buy stuff off Facebook and then break it down and repurpose it.”

“With the money you make from murdering people?”

“No, with the money I make from grading chemistry tests.”

“That’s barely $300 a month, I know how much you make.”

“Stalker alert.”

“Look.” He sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. “What was the name of the last man you killed? On March the twenty-third?”

“Does it matter?”

“Oh it matters.” He nods. “It matters a fucking lot. That was a very important person.”

“He was a drug dealer and trafficked children.”

“Yes, and he had very vital information, which the physical evidence was destroyed in the fire you decided to start.”

“I didn’t decide to, it just kind of happened.”

“You turned on a lighter and threw it behind you.”

“So you can get video evidence on that but not video evidence on what he did to children?”

“Did you get anything out of her yet or do we need to waterboard her?” Wade steps out, a dog in his hand. What the fuck?

“We are not waterboarding her.”

“But it always works.”

“I can breathe underwater.” You break into the conversation, and both of their heads turn.

“You’re a mutant?” He asks, more of a declaration though.

“Will that be used against me?”

“Say it again I wanna get it on recording.” Wade giggles a little and hands Logan the hairless pug, its collar reading “Mary Poppins,” then he takes out his phone, the case was adorned with pink sparkles and a unicorn sticker that was peeling off and covered in blood.

“Your friend thinks everything is a joke?” You ask him, and he just nods.

“Yea, you have to be a dick to him first and insult his past if you want him to be even a little serious.” He scratches the dog's head.

“Speaking from experience I’m assuming.” He nods.

“Uh oh, the one eyed ninja is calling me, do I pick up?”

“Yes you pick up, or he’ll come here.”

“Hello Mr. Fury.” Wade speaks into the phone. “Oh no, we still haven’t found her.” He pauses, presumably letting Fury speak. “No, no. We’ve got everything under control.” You reach out and pet the dog that’s still in Logan's arms, and her tongue reaches out to lick you. “No you do not have to put another bullet through my head, that hurt last time- what? No. Of course I’m not lying to you.” Then he suddenly reaches over, and knocks hard on the wall next to him. “Oh? Do you hear that? That’s the stripper I ordered, I have to go before it gets cold. Okay love you bye-” You hear the hang up dial tone before Wade even finishes his sentence. “He’s on his way.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Logan growls, handing Wade back the dog.

“Oh I wish. He doesn’t know you’re here though because of the whole…” He moves his hand in a circular motion. “You know, our universe Logan being dead and all… So I guess you can take Y/N and go out for a few hours, come back when I text you it’s safe.”

“And how will he know it’s you texting, not Fury?” You ask.

“We have a safe word.”

“Safe word…?” You look between them. “Like for sex.”

“Yes.” “No.” Two different answers.

“You’re both chaotic.”

“Lovers franchise.” Wade whispers.

“His ‘safeword,’ is bazinga. Whatever the fuck that means.” He makes air quotes.

“Okay well, I’d rather be with you two than see whatever Fury has in stock for me. Where was he? Is he on his way or-?”

“Oh he’s waiting by the front door.”

“What?” You and Logan say in unison.

“Yea, so you’ll have to take the fire exit.

This fucking dude.

Logan growls and grabs your wrist before leading you down the hall and to the window at the end of it before sliding it open.

“Come on.” He steps out, and grabs your hand to help you, not letting go until you were both steadily standing on the metal stairs of the fire exit, then he closed the window and he led you the way down.

“So where are we gonna go?” You ask as you both reach the ground, him helping you down as if you’re fragile. Which you weren’t.

“I know a place.”

“Just don’t murder me…” You mumble, sort of a joke as he leads you to the parking lot, a set of keys in his hands as he clicks a button on them, a Honda Odysseys lights blinking as it unlocks.

“As long as you behave and tell me everything.” He opens the passenger door for you.

“I can guarantee you will not be harmed.”

#marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan x reader #deadpool #wade wilson #wade x reader #poolverine #deadclaw #marvel ask

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sc0tters · 1 year

Text

Tied Up | Sidney Crosby

summary: when it’s the team end of season gala and you begin to run your mouth, Sidney is there to put you in your place.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v (unprotected), swearing, drinking, light mentions of bondage.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: just like normal the Sidney pieces are the ones where I can get carried away… no but frl I’ve been writing this one for the last few days and it makes me happy to see it out.

You seemed to want to cause trouble tonight.

It was the end of season team charity gala and you were in some pretty black dress that served as a perfect contract from the white stilettos that you wore on your feet.

If it was a post break up outfit it would have been fitting, your dress hugged your curves as it made your breasts look heavenly.

But it wasn’t because of a break up, no this was arguably worse. You and Sidney had been sleeping together for the last three months yet that abruptly ended after rumours came to twitter of him spending time with some model.

Now you usually weren’t one for jealousy, it was an emotion you tried to avoid. But here you were sending Sidney a message that was simple telling him that you were done.

Yet that was so much easier said than actually put to practice. The captain looked gorgeous tonight as he walked around in a suit that was tight enough to leave little to imagination.

Sidney hadn’t let his eyes leave you since he arrived. It was hard to ignore how gorgeous you looked as you were in a conversation with some of the players, laughing as you let your hand brush over Ryan’s arm.

The Canadian always thought you had an eye for that boy, it was how you let your camera linger on him even as you started sleeping with Sidney. As it felt like he was proving his point the captain watched as you made your way to the bar to get another drink “just go talk to her.” Jeff groaned as he had been swearing for the last few weeks that all would make sense if you and Sidney got together.

If only he knew right?

The captains cheeks turned a tinge of red locking eyes with you as you went back to your conversation with Evgeni “sort that shit out for the sakes of the team.” The fellow Canadian added before he placed his hand on Sidney’s back pushing him in your direction.

Sidney wondered what you and Evgeni were talking about as your eyes sparkled looking at the captain “speak of the devil.” You smirked flashing the older boy your signature grin.

It was a look that Sidney would have thought that he would have gotten used to by now, but even after knowing you for two years it still made him weak in the knees.

Evgeni seemed totally unaware of what went on between you two as he smiled “surprised you didn’t bring that girl cap.” His voice was teasing as he watched the older boy nod bringing his drink to his lips “not really her scene.” Sidney’s comment was only met with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

It irritated him how you could get under his skin so much easier when he was sexually frustrated “you got something to say?” The Canadian sent you a glare not realising that it only made you more amused.

You placed your now empty champagne flute on the table next to you “just think you’d need a bit of help to keep a girl satisfied.” Your comment made Evgeni snort before he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

This little spat had been going on between you and Sidney for weeks now so he wasn’t surprised when he carried on into tonight “you’re old Sid, most men your age start needing help from some little blue pills.” You shrugged twisting the metaphorical knife in deeper before the older man wrapped his hand around your arm pulling you to the exit.

Anyone who had seen it thought Sidney just didn’t want to argue with you in front of everyone else but of course he had other plans “don’t remember you telling me I needed any type of pill to satisfy you.” Sidney’s voice was harsh as he pushed you into the elevator.

Your lips turned upright “didn’t think I’d have to explain faking to you.” Sidney always made sure you finished in bed but you were continuing on in your act to piss him off.

His eyes stared at yours as your back hit the wall of the elevator “you think you were faking it?” The hockey player let out a laugh as he hit the number for his floor.

When you remained silent his fingers dug into your waist “all the dang time,” you spat only getting cut off as his lips were forced onto yours.

The kiss reminded you of why you enjoyed being with him but as you remained strong not letting his tongue into your mouth it got him frustrated “it’s cute, you thinking you’re all strong today.” Sidney mumbled placing a slap to your ass cheek and as you opened your mouth to argue it gave him the chance to slide his tongue in between your lips.

You two went like this for another minute or two until the elevator doors opened on the captains floor “c’mon.” Sidney locked his hand with yours as he pulled you out of the elevator making sure you followed him to his hotel room.

As he fished for his keycard you decided that you wanted to push his buttons so as innocently as you could you let your hand reach over to the front of his pants where you began to palm his cock through the suit fabric “you are playing with fire baby.” The captain warned sending you a glare.

You leaned onto your tippy toes as you didn’t let your hand drop from his pants “ever thought that it was what I wanted to do?” You asked pressing a kiss just below where his earlobe was.

Luckily for Sidney he was able to open the door before you could do anything else to piss him off “been wanting to get you out of this since I saw you.” Sidney confessed letting his fingers run over the straps of your dress.

His hands cupped your breasts in their journey to your ass “Sid,” you whined as his lips nipped dangerously close to your sweet spot on your neck.

Sidney smirked as he turned to face you “only good girls get rewarded.” He shook his head “others have to work for it,” his voice was serious as an idea formed in your head.

You dropped to your knees never letting your eyes leave his “sure you don’t need some viagra first?” You kept this smirk as you undid his belt “change of plans princess.” Sidney scoffed pulling you back to your feet.

It confused you as he spun you around so that you were facing away from him “need to fuck you like the naughty girl you are.” He explained pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Your panties grew wet “what are you waiting for then?” You asked letting out a gasp as you were pushed against the comforter on the bed.

Sidney let out a grunt as your dress fell over your ass “not even wearing any panties huh?” He ran his fingers over the curve of your ass before he slapped the arena of skin causing you to moan “didn’t look good with the dress.” You explained hearing the sound of his pants hitting the ground.

Your wetness glistened as he looked at your core “you been thinking about this today?” Sidney was painfully hard as he watched you turn your head to look at him “been thinking about getting a good fuck for weeks.” You confessed running your tongue over your lip “but then you found a new friend-“ the reminder of why you ended was sour on your tongue as you sent him a glare.

It made Sidney laugh “you think she mattered like you did?” The boy reached for your hands as he held them on your back “you are my fucking world.” He added using his belt to tie your hands together.

You grew alarmed as you felt his tie go over your eyes “I’m going to fuck you just the way I want to tonight.” Sidney leaned over to whisper that in your ear.

For the most part you two were fairly vanilla, besides for the fact that you enjoyed the occasional fuck in your office where he’d awkwardly sit under your table eating you out as you’d edit the pictures you worked on.

A whimper fell from your lips “please Sid,” you begged feeling his cock brush over your slit. He smiled hearing how needy you were “don’t think I need some pill for this?” Sidney asked dragging his cock over your clit teasing you “if you don’t hurry up then maybe?” Your giggle was short lived as he drove his cock into your core.

It was hot as you were practically trapped beneath him blind as your sense heightened “god you’re so tight.” Sidney grunted thrusting into you.

Your pussy wrapped around his cock giving him an extra sense of pleasure “don’t stop Sid.” You begged bringing your hips back to meet his.

Sidney snaked his hand down your stomach to rub your clit “don’t plan on it,” the sound of skin slapping echoed off of the walls making your skin sweaty.

His lips nipped at your neck finally reaching your sweet spot “god,” you cried as you tried to force your hands out of the belt constraint.

It only made the boys smirk increase “it’s just me princess.” He cooed locking his free hand in your hair as your moans were muffled by the comforter when your head drove deeper into it.

You honestly forgot about how irritated you were at him as his cock drove deeper into your pussy “oh shit!” You gasped trying to squeezed your thighs shut “not tonight princess.” Sidney shook his head as he moved his knee between your legs.

The headboard continued to hit the wall with each thrust the boy gave “you still think I should have had those pills tonight?” He asked clearly wanting that question to be rhetorical.

Moans were the only real coherent thing that came from your lips “no Sid,” you shook your head feeling it build up in your stomach “making me feel so full.” You cooed clenching your pussy around his throbbing cock.

Sidney grunted at the feeling “so why’d you say it to him huh?” He questioned you bringing his hand from your hair to your neck as he brought your torso up to his.

When you remained silent his hand squeezed around your neck “asked you a question princess.” He grumbled urging you to answer him “wanted to piss you off,” you whispered only knowing the side he was on by the sound of his breathing.

He smiled letting out a gasp as he was getting close to his high “and now you want to come don’t you?” Sidney pressed a kiss to your temple as your head dropped against his shoulder “please Sid.” You begged letting out a gasp as the tie dropped below your eyes “going to have to do better than that.” The hockey player grunted as your eyes locked with his.

You shook your head “please let me come.” You repeated your beg as your body began to shake. It was like you weren’t allowing yourself to come until he said so.

Sidney pressed a kiss on your shoulder letting his teeth sink into the soft skin “promise to behave?” He asked feeing light headed as his eyes fluttered.

He watched as you nodded “be your good little girl forever.” Sidney smirked hearing you say that “you can let it go baby.” His words caused your orgasm to hit you like a truck.

Eyes screwing shut as white specks lit up the backs of your eyelids “shit shit shit!” You cried out as the boy fucked you through your high.

If Sidney’s had wasn’t still around your throat you would have fallen flat onto the mattress “good girl,” his words rang through your ear as he shot his warm load into your pussy as he came shortly after you.

Once you two came back down to earth and the boy let his cock fall out of you your body shuddered “was I too rough tonight?” Sidney asked moving his hand down to undo the belt around your hands.

He massaged the area of skin as he realised that a bruise was going to form there tomorrow “it was hot,” your confession made him laugh.

The boy lay next to you as you looked up at him with a smile “I meant what I said,” Sidney ran his fingers through your hair “really?” Your furrowed your eyebrows watching as he kissed down your arm.

You were never going to get over how he made you feel so giddy inside “wanna to give you the world.” At this point it began to sound like he was talking to himself as he got up to readjust himself between your thighs.

A giggle left your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows “what are you doing?” You grinned watching him stare up at you from between your legs “showing you just how much I want you.” Sidney’s words were playful as his breath fanned at your core.

It didn’t take him long before he wrapped his lips around your clit “fuck Sid!” You groaned instantly wrapping your fingers in his curly locks of hair.

You were in for a long night of pleasure.

#Sidney Crosby smut #sidney crosby x reader #nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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archangeldyke-all · 7 months

Note

How about Sevika coaching little fucker’s child soccer team like the ones that are so unserious and the kids don’t even know the rules.

I feel like Sevika would be forced cause she just serious looking and can control the kiddos but she’s lowkey (high key) so good with the kids (it’s really hot too). Also feel like Sevika would take it slightly too serious I bet she’s super competitive. Like she’s at half time discussing tactics to a bunch of 4 year olds who just want lunch already. She’d also encourage the kids playing dirty and tackling the other HA she finds it hilarious when they fight except when little fuckers involved SHES their STAR PLAYER and it has nothing to do with the fact that coach is her mom. ALSO think the other moms would hit on coach Sevika, like she’s got game and looks hot in her cap and sunglasses with a whistle round her neck and clipboard. Reader would defo be like ‘back up hoes she’s mine’.

THANK YOU ANGELL <333333

THIS IS SO. SO FUCKING CUTE.

men and minors dni

when little fucker comes home from daycare begging you to let her join the local little-league soccer team, you and sevika are thrilled at first.

your kid's got a lot of energy. having her run around a field with a bunch of other toddlers for a few hours a week would be amazing.

but then you find out that the team doesn't have a coach, and without one, they won't be able to participate in the local kiddie league.

you know what sevika's thinking before she even says it.

"babe..."

"sevika, you were just telling me about how exhausted you are all the time from work and the kid." you say, laughing. sevika huffs.

"but she'll be so heartbroken!" she whines, referring to your daughter.

"you don't even know the rules of soccer!" you say. sevika scoffs.

"how hard can it be? you kick the ball in the net. boom, soccer." she says. you giggle. "c'mon babe, think of our girl. she'd be so happy." sevika pleas.

you sigh. "she would love having you around as coach." you say. sevika grins.

"and i'd look hot with a clipboard and whistle, don't you think?" she asks as she wraps her arms around your waist. you chuckle.

"unfortunately i'd find you hot in just about anything." you say. she laughs. "'s why i married you."

sevika's surprisingly good as a coach.

some of the kids are there to actually play. for them, she learns the rules and rotates their positions until she finds the spot they're best in.

some of the kids are just on the field to be outside. for them, sevika makes sure to position them near the goal on defense, so they can sit down and pick flowers most of the game.

some of the kids don't want to be there at all, and sevika lets them sit on the sidelines with her or lets them climb up her back and cling to her while she's running up and down the field.

the kids adore her. you nearly die the first time you hear a "thanks coach sevy!" from one of little fucker's team mates.

little fucker herself is somewhat interested in the game. occasionally she'll kick the ball around-- but most of the time she's with her friends near the goal, throwing handfuls of grass on one another.

sevika treats her like she's the star of the team, though. she starts calling her 'champ', and each time she does, your daughter gives your wife the biggest, toothiest grin you've ever seen.

your saturday mornings are now spent in various parks around town, watching the kids try their best to beat the opposing teams.

you've become the snack mom-- loading your car with big coolers of ice water and containers filled with orange slices and peanut butter crackers-- passing them out to all the sweaty, giggling kids during half-time and after the games.

you're also the team nurse-- holding bags of ice to heads that got hit with soccerballs and twisted ankles, putting band aids on scrapes and coating child after child with sunscreen and bug spray every hour.

sevika does look good with a clipboard and whistle-- and there have been several times you catch moms on the sidelines gawking at her.

each time, you rise from your little folding chair and storm around the field until you're by your wife's side. and each time, sevika wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to your head.

"what's up?" she asks.

"there was--"

"go ahead baby, kick it!" sevika calls to one of the kids, nodding at them. they grin then give the ball a solid kick, and you both chuckle as you watch the ball roll about ten feet before it stops again. sevika turns to you again. "sorry, go ahead." she says, smiling.

"you see that lady in the sunglasses? sitting by casey's dad?" you ask. sevika hums and nods, and you pout. "she was checking you out." you say.

sevika grins.

"yeah? she's hot-- think i got a chance with her?" she asks. you slam an elbow into her ribs and she laughs, before pulling you in for a quick kiss. "i'm teasing." she says. you huff. "she's not my type." she says.

"fuck off." you mumble. sevika laughs.

"i'm more into soccer moms-- you know the type. lugging a bunch of coolers around? carpooling all the time, van full of little kids?"

"sounds like you've got your eye on someone specific." you say. sevika giggles, then shouts.

"other way, jackie! turn around-- there you go!" she calls to one of her kids who was kicking the ball toward her own team's goal. then, she turns to look at you. "yeah, someone specific." she says, nodding. then she points to little fucker, whose made a chain of flowers and is hanging it around the goalie's neck. "see that kid?" she asks.

you hum and nod. "'s a cute kid."

"the cutest. you should see her mom, though-- fuckin' smoke show." sevika says. you grin.

"oh, yeah?"

"yeah. i've got it bad for her-- i'm obsessed." she says. you laugh.

"you're ridiculous." you say. sevika kisses your head again.

"ma!" your daughter calls from the field. you look up and smile at her, and she starts running over to you. "ma, did you bring fruit snacks?" she asks as she leaps up into your arms, abandoning her post as a defender. you scoop her up and begin peppering her sweaty face with kisses.

"i did indeed." you say. your daughter grins. "but the game's not over yet. you got another quarter left." you say. little fucker pouts.

"moooom." she whines, tugging sevika's sleeve. sevika's grinning at her.

"yeah, babe?" she asks.

"can you make the game be over already? i want fruit snacks! and there's a jungle gym over there that me and charlie and suzie are gonna play house in once we're done and--"

"okay okay!" sevika inturrupts her rambling. "i'll tell you what. you can't leave the game-- you're the captain of the team!" sevika says. little fucker huffs. "but! once you're done, we'll have a team cool-down on the jungle gym. and after we drop your team-mates off at home-- i'll take you and ma out for icecream. how's that sound?" she asks.

little fucker squeals. "fuck yes!" she shouts. you groan and sevika gently pulls a lock of her hair.

"language!" she scolds. little fucker giggles, kicking in your grip until you let her down, then she runs back to the field laughing.

you grin at your wife and lean into her arms, and one of her hands wanders down your back to fondle your ass. you giggle.

"you spoil her." you say. sevika snorts.

"duh." she says. "'s my job. i'm the good cop, you're the bad cop." she says. you laugh.

"since when?!"

"well, you're the one who enforces bedtime and bathtime, i'm the one who coaches her soccer team and takes her out for icecream."

"so you're the favorite." you say, pouting. sevika snorts.

"this week i am. though i'm sure it'll change next week when i start coaching these kids to actually win-- i'm sick of losing." she says. you laugh.

"what're you gonna do-- make 'em do drills?" you ask. sevika shrugs.

"drills and workouts and scrimmages-- i'm thinking four nights of practice a week?"

"they're four year olds!" you laugh. sevika just giggles.

"they're gonna be the best damn little league soccer team in the state." she says, nodding.

"oh for sure. i can see it now-- sevika's tots in the 2028 olympics."

"world champions, babe." sevika says nodding.

on the field-- a group of kids from both teams have started a game of freeze tag-- the ball sitting abandoned in the middle of the field as they squeal and laugh and run about. you laugh as you watch little fucker look around from where she's frozen, then start running again when she finds that no one's watching her. you snort.

"she's a little sneak." you say. sevika laughs.

"i should really break this game up."

"they're having fun-- let the other coach break it up so you can be the cool coach." you say. sevika smirks, then presses another kiss to your head.

"you wanna go make out behind that tree?" she asks, nodding to a big tree a few yards away. "the game's almost over anyways." she says. you grin.

"fine, but set a timer-- i don't need a bunch of little kids catching us." you say.

sevika just smirks, taking your hand in hers and dragging you across the field behind her.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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alchemistc · 2 months

Note

okay….. can I ask about Buck in the hockey au?

Buck was a middling college player who got drafted in the third round after his team missed the Frozen Four, and he kind of labored in obscurity for a few years in the AHL before his current team picked him up trying to unload cap space to buy out a problem players contract.

Buck plays four regular season games with his new team before he gets sent back down. The company line is that he's just Not Ready but in actuality he's been hooking up with girls in visitor facilities and once in the team bus. His coach (the coach is Bobby I'm just still working out the details) tells him he sees a lot of potential in Buck, and he could make it if he could just find a way to get his head on straight.

Buck gets his head on straight. He kills it with the affiliate team, runs a point streak through twenty-three games as a defenseman, quarterbacks the power play to the point that fans of the NHL team are up in arms that he hasn't been called up.

They're playing with numbers, trying to give Buck as much ice time as possible while they lose the weight of one of their underperforming D-Men - the usual contract juggling. Then they call him up. He has a few good games, scores a few goals, has a wicked wrister from the blue line. He also scores an own goal against Chim his fourth game up and keeps taking stupid penalties. It's 2-4 penalty minutes a game for too many men or delay of game because he keeps getting too overexcited and slinging the puck over the glass instead of along the boards.

Abby works for TNT, and Buck catches her eye while she's between the pipes for a national broadcast game. She's got enough pull to get his number and they start up a phone based relationship.

Buck's team makes playoffs his first year, and gets slaughtered in the first round. Abby's mom dies and she takes a break from sports casting and Buck, not that she really lets him know that.

During the off-season Buck's team trades for a defenseman who's been in the KHL for a few years. His name is Eddie Diaz.

Buck hates him for about half a day. He feels like he's being replaced. He's worked so fucking hard to make it and now there's this guy who just gets a spot right away?

(They're best buds by the end of the week, and by the time the regular season starts they're playing 25 minutes a night as the top D-Pair)

Buck's career comes to a screeching halt in the second round of the playoffs that year when he gets tripped on a breakaway and slides awkwardly into the boards.

(No one makes the connection at the time, but the player who trips him is the same one one of their old wingers, Deluca, saved from the bottom of a dogpile years ago when a skate got way too close to his neck)

The injury isn't an easy one. There's no quick recovery time. Buck is just sort of stuck in limbo for a while. And then when he's cleared to return they find out there were complications. Coach Bobby benches Buck.

And Buck has been nothing but hockey for most of his life. It was the only way to get his parents to pay attention to him. The only outlet for all his anger. And he's good at it. He's the best. He could be the best, anyway.

Buck takes to twitter during his 'recovery' time. At first he's just posting stupid shit, but then people start paying attention to him. The PR dept does Not Like the way Buck calls out bullshit and trolls on Twitter. The GM gets involved, things blow up. Buck is reluctantly allowed back at practices and quickly jumps into game readiness.

And it's clear he's come back better.

The team toils for years in first and second round exits, and some of their stars are coming close to contract years, and they just can't break out. Buck places third for the Norris a few times, and he and Eddie are often talked about as one of the best Defensive pairings in the league, but their team is fast and light and they get beat to shit every time playoffs roll around. Eddie's feisty, he'll talk shit until the opposing bench is FUMING, he'll get scrappy along the boards, he'll duke it out when necessary, but he usually has to keep a lid on that because he can't let Buck down by getting injured.

At the end of year six for Buck, after a heartbreaking out, Buck's end of year presser goes viral when he talks about how he's been in the league for six years and hasn't won shit.

The fanbase panics because he's in his second to last contract year. If they can't contend, they're convinced he's gonna want out before the All-Star break. (None of them are aware that Buck would rather re-break his leg than leave this team he considers family, and his agent would like to keep it that way)

The team has a banner fucking year. They've got record game winning streaks and record point streaks and their aging goalie has never played better. He has four shutouts in the first half of the season. And Buck was never planning to leave so no one really broaches the contract thing. They'll figure it out in the off-season. Buck's got games to win.

With the trade deadline looming and Buck's team looking like a shoe-in for top of their conference, the front office makes a... strange move early in. They trade for Tommy Kinard. He's a bruiser, real old school type, skates like he's got bricks attached to his ankles but will knock a motherfucker down for looking sideways at his guys. He hasn't announced he's retiring at the end of the season, but he's planning to hang it up either way.

The team is hesitant about that, at first, once they know. He and Chim played together for a few years, and Chim welcomes him to the team by filling his car with golf balls. Pointed, maybe, but Tommy laughs it off, and retaliates, and the team starts to grow fond of him. BUCK starts to grow fond of him. Buck has a Cup run to worry about but Tommy is there, playing five minutes a night and knocking dudes on their ass that would normally be going for Buck and Eddie so consistently that Buck and Eddie feel a little invincible. People are second guessing whether or not they want to risk incurring the wrath of Kinard for a meaningless late March game.

And that is where I leave this because I'm actually seriously considering writing this fic now and that's about where I'd start it.

#bucktommy #bucktommy hockey au

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lilithess · 2 years

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ASTRO OBSERVATIONS IV

capricorn suns are super wild (!!!) and easy to click with. nowhere near the boring capricorn stereotype. they are hardworking, reliable and tough people, but FUN! they have this motherly aura, more so than cancers. a capricorn to me is like a middle aged woman who decided to go wild after a few glasses of wine. and they’re not as judgmental as people claim them to be. the judgy rigid part that everyone talks about goes more for cap moons and mercuries.

aquarius loves a bit of drama (especially men) and wants attention (especially women), but not in a “in your face” way, not in a desperate way. they will keep their cool at all times, it’s like they’re constantly trying to maintain a persona. but if you read between the lines, you’ll notice the competitivness and ego trips. they all have a little “notice me” sittin inside. leo is just more open about it. aquarius men are highly unbothered. aquarius women remind me of closeted scorpio women.

comparing virgo men and virgo women. i don’t know a single nitpicky virgo man. they’re actually all so different. if i met a virgo man, i’d had never guessed it’s him because there’s nothing really that stands out as a common trait. women share the intensity and are incredibly smart and shrewd. i think this sign’s intelligence goes unnoticed. it gives such a “quality” person, even tho the nitpicking can be annoying

geminis can lack a backbone and boundaries a lot, especially at young age. not sure what’s with the “player” stereotype bc i can’t imagine being manipulated by a gemini (especially a guy). they’re honestly kids. however, the gemini as in the sign itself and what it represents has a sort of dangerous potential. they can really be indifferent about matters that i’ve seen no one else be so indifferent about. sort of like “who cares so why not?” lifestyle. they’ll laugh at their own pain like it’s nothing so why not at yours? they have a troll like nature to them and their curiosity has no limits. can be a very dark sign who, for some reason, is considered a light social butterfly.

no one attracts jealousy as well as a leo placement, especially leo rising, venus, and preferably leo stellium. i know a leo rising and that energy ate up her whole chart. no mind her virgo or 12H placements, she’s just OUT THERE in the spotlight always stealing the show. however, i think leo’s intelligence should be apreciated more bc these people are really more than just a diva in a leopard crop top. i’ve seen leo placements dumb themselves down (very annoying) and honestly they can be very naive. the sun shines light at every other planet in our solar system, not the other way around. i think people forget that no matter how much leo seeks attention, they are also the ones giving it to others.

i know mutables are rumored to change the most, but scorpio’s ability to just… change their entire life, identity and being can make you wonder wheather you even knew the person or not. i had a scorpio sun, mercury, mars and ascendant bestie who went from being a rebellious femme fatale who wouldn’t leave the house without make up; wore heels to high school and messed with other people’s relationships for fun - to a stay at home “wifey” with no social life and a man who’s probably not even going to marry her. no one even hears from her anymore. scorpios really die and reborn a completely different person. it’s not the little changes that mutables do on a daily base or just mid conversation. it’s a whole other person.

#astrology #astro observations #astro notes #astrology observations #astrology notes #i need to meet more people bc i think i always analyze the same signs lol

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the-moon-devi · 1 year

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Are there any placements that you believe are a red flag in one’s birth chart?

Potential Red flag placements...

Here's a few of mine from experience & what I've heard.

☆ Mars in aries 3rd- they can be ruthless in what they say and not care. They are impulsive with what they say as well.

☆ sagittarius placements omgggg man or women . I didn't want to believe it at first but they really are cheaters.... side pieces all that they're list is never ending ♃

☆ low vibrational Leo men wowww... cry babies & temper tangims

☆ Mars in cancer / cancerian degrees mommy issues & mom was most likely abusive. They also could have had a lot heated arguments with mother.

☆ Chiron 1st self esteem issues like bad especially when it's conjuncting other personal planets. I say this because these people will reflect their own issues onto you regarding appearance but I don't hate them 4 it lol 😂

☆ Lilith in 5th can make these natives be players and into mutiple people at once. There may be Trauma surrounding short lasting flings as well.

☆ mercury in cap (annoying ass you think you can tell me what to do 🙄🥺)

#astro notes #astrology posts #red flag placements #astro observations #astrology #astro placements #i love them all #astro community

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blurredcolour · 2 months

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The Last To Know | Part Two

The Last To Know Masterlist

John Brady x Pilot!Female Reader

As training progresses, you and Brady only continue to find new areas in which to compete which one another - both in the air and on the ground. Your distaste for one another grows at the same pace as your reluctant respect for your talent as pilots and musicians.

Warnings: MAJOR Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Original Characters, Era Typical Sexism/Misogyny, Alcohol Consumption, Tobacco Smoking, Class Disparity, Allusion to Death in Combat, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Enemies to Lovers, Weapons of War, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: This story contains an alternate universe where women have been allowed to fly in combat with the USAAF - in a very limited experiment. Reader is a trumpet player. Brief references to Reader's family and backstory. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7530

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Fools. He was surrounded by incompetent fools.

“If you don’t get a move on Croz, you’re gonna be dead!” Brady’s Bombardier, Hambone, shouted across the tarmac.

He watched the dark-haired Navigator execute the most inelegant slide down the fuselage of the plane onto the wing before hopping down to the ground. Hoerr, his Co-pilot, sucked his teeth in dismay as he eyed the stopwatch in his hand before following after him. With a heavy sigh, Brady turned his head to see you and your crew exchanging high-fives, all ten of you the first to reach your designated safety zone across the runway from your aircraft.

“Winners of our crash-landing drill, folks!” Their instructor shouted as Brady executed his slide and jump to the ground with efficiency, jogging up to who Crosby just barely made it to the chalk circle drawn on the blacktop.

Sniffling against the chill of the morning, he glanced over at their final time in Hoerr’s hand, shaking his head. “We’ll definitely be practicing that again.” He huffed and tucked his hands into the fleece-lined pockets of his sheepskin.

It wasn’t that third place amongst twenty crews was a poor showing – the men had done rather well for their first timed trial. The issue lay with the fact that you continued to effortlessly outperform him. Impress the instructors, earn accolades, seemingly outsmart him. All while looking that attractive in a flight suit. While looking at him that icily.

“Well done ladies.” Croz panted, flapping his crush cap in your direction in some semblance of a wave as you led your crew towards the trucks waiting to take you to the Mess for lunch.

As you offered the man a polite nod, Brady cleared his throat, begrudgingly adding on his congratulations. “Yes, well done.”

Your eyes snapped to his coldly, the physical impact of your gaze nearly making him flinch.

“Guess we’ll survive anyway when I do crash my plane, huh Brady?” Your voice was filled with a venom that he was quite certain was unwarranted, the comment seeming to have come out of nowhere.

“Personally, I don’t plan on ever putting my crew in a position where they have to enact this drill.” He snapped back defensively, hackles raised, watching your beautiful mouth twist into a wry smile.

He really needed to stop using those dangerously pleasant adjectives when it came to you.

“Man plans, Brady…” You taunted before continuing on your way, the obedient line of women behind you each shooting him a haughty glare as they followed in your wake.

“Yeah, yeah, God laughs.” He bit off angrily, fishing out his pipe in search of something to busy his hands with.

A long, low whistle sounded to his left and he lifted his eyes to meet Hambone’s glinting smile. “She sure don’t like you.”

Brady’s lips twisted in distaste at the accuracy of that statement, but any response died on his tongue as the sound of an encroaching engine overtook the airfield. While the 280th and 418th had been putting on a show for the visitors from Wing, Cleven had offered to take the newly repaired plane of his squadron member, Hollenbeck, out to test its replacement engines while his Lieutenant completed some base duties.

The fact that the normal roar of the plane was significantly muted had everyone turning to watch the B-17’s approach. Lifting a hand to shield his eyes from the bright winter sun, pale but obstinately returned to the sky after the wet welcome the 100th had received with Walla Walla’s entire annual rainfall in the span of five days, Brady’s brow furrowed deeply to see three engines feathered. His heart all but stopped when the fourth fell silent, propellers twirling idly in the slipstream as the aircraft glided across the runway.

Cleven could not be more than twenty-five feet off the ground as he cruised above the control tower, the collective jaws of all those gathered below gaping open as the brass hit the deck on the observation balcony. With a graceful, yet eerily silent swoop, the plane turned to line up with an open stretch of runway before seeming to float down to a gentle landing. Cheers of relief and reverence erupted from all around him as members of the ground crew raced out to check on the status of the engines when, to everyone’s collective shock, they began to start up again one-by-one. As Cleven smoothly taxied toward his hardstand, Brady shook his head in awe at the man’s sheer audacity.

If he was hoping to make himself stand out in the minds of the higher-ups from Wing, he undoubtedly achieved it.

“Brady, you coming for chow or what?” Hoerr shouted and he nodded quickly in reply, following the group onto their transport truck for the Mess as he tucked his forgotten pipe back into his pocket.

The normally crowded Mess Hall was quiet – two squadrons off on training flights courtesy of the additional thirty-five B-17s that had arrived from the Boeing factory in Seattle over the course of the last several weeks. He assumed they would return soon enough to endure the stringy chicken drowned in mayo to form what the Mess officers were claiming was chicken salad, served on thick slices of bread. Lucky them. Settling at the table with the officers of his crew, he forced the sandwich down quickly before savouring the crisp, tart apple that accompanied it, eyes involuntarily following you through the chow line. It seemed someone else was on rear guard today, freeing you to chat with that blonde Pilot, Hart.

The pair of you seemed close, from what he had seen. And it appeared he had been watching too often and noticing far too much.

“Tough as a ten-cent steak, that Thornton.” Curt’s New York accent pierced through his cloudy thoughts from the table behind, the man’s voice always discernable amongst the crowd. Particularly when he spoke your name next, making Brady’s ears focus more intently. “…pretty sure she eats a bowl of nails for breakfast and spits ‘em out as tacks for lunch.”

Brady could easily imagine the man’s impish grin as the table roared with laughter, though he himself could find no fault with his words – much as that galled him. Next to Thornton, you were by far the toughest in the 280th and he found, despite your personal incompatibilities, he would probably not hesitate to fly on your wing.

Setting down his apple core once he had picked it clean with precise bites, he settled back to produce his pipe and tin of tobacco, methodically packing his pipe before striking a match to light the dried leaves slowly. Absently listening to the rest of the conversation around him, he reflected on the fact that they would be moving onto the next phase of their training soon. The next base. Rumor had it they were shipping out to Utah, the actual desert, rather than this arid smudge between the forest and the mountains.

Aside from the arrival of enough planes for every crew, there were interesting developments on the ground as well – discussion of a Group band. According to their Group CO, Alkire, every Group had a band. Brady had already written home requesting his family send his saxophone and clarinet in anticipation, his reputation as a performance musician well known amongst his squadron. What remained uncertain was if it would be a fully integrated band or not. There were…differences of opinion amongst the various factions involved.

‘The calibre of talent drawn from five hundred rather than four hundred would surely be higher.’

‘Would it not encourage fraternization with them spending so much more time amongst one another?’

‘Big bands don’t have women.’

‘The numbers would surely be impressive if we let them join.’

‘They gotta take that over now, too?’

‘You’ll write them off before you even hear them?’

Smoke curled from his nostrils as Brady exhaled heavily, as-yet undecided where he stood on the subject, not that anyone was asking for the opinion of a Second Lieutenant. The cacophony of the 349th and 351st squadron’s officers arriving for lunch, looking tired but satisfied after their extended flight, interrupted his introspection and had him rising to his feet.

“Gonna go grab our flight plan for this afternoon.” He muttered to Hoerr who offered a nod before turning back to Hambone’s animated story about the acquisition of his gold teeth.

Walking along the boards which had aged markedly under the heavy use of their Group since their arrival earlier in the month, Brady stepped into the Ops centre, nodding to a few of the pilots from the 418th, including Pratt whom he had given a wide berth in the past few weeks. Pressing himself into an empty spot along the wall, he watched quietly as Flescher and Dutch pored over neatly typed sheets with Alkire – most likely the flight plan he had come in search of.

The whine of the door hinges raised his head, and that of every other man impatiently waiting with practiced expressions of patience, and Brady felt his throat clench in a reflexive swallow as you stepped into the dwindling free space, utterly alone.

“Hey there Bo Peep, lost your sheep?” Pratt quipped, chuckling in delight at his own cleverness, reminding Brady just why he had parted ways with the man after too many similar instances.

The grim set of your mouth at the resounding laughter from the rest of the Pilots in the room opened a pit in his stomach. Confirmed to him that you were just as aware as he that the nickname was going to stick with you for the rest of your career in the USAAF. If only your Co-pilot had seen fit to give you one earlier, as some kind of defence.

“Ah, Lieutenant.” Dutch’s booming voice cut through the racket like a hot knife through butter, beckoning you over to the open doorway into Alkire’s office. “Here are the flight plans for the 280th. See to it all the ladies have one, we’ll assemble at the hangar in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” Your reply was calm and professional, seeming otherwise unaffected by the wildly unfitting moniker.

If anything, you reminded him of some sort of ice goddess – perfectly molded from hard, frigid material. Not a sweet, tender character from a nursery rhyme.

The 418th’s CO, Flesher, stepped forward and passed out the rest of the pages, Brady accepting his flight plan with a sharp nod of thanks, before he followed you out into the cool, bright afternoon to get on with his training, trying his best to drive you from his mind.

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

December 1942

The salt flats of Wendover Field, Utah felt endless, the arid landscape stretching far beyond the horizon, even during flights. There was no hint of lush deep forests capping mountains or slanting towards the sea here as there had been in Washington. And the differences did not end there. Whereas Walla Walla had greeted you with rain and temperatures in the high forties, Wendover was ceaseless blue skies and temperatures ten degrees cooler. Despite the fact that the 280th’s fifteen-chair all-ladies band was endless practicing holiday tunes, it made it difficult to truly feel in the holiday spirit.

There would be no white Christmas here, contrary to the wild popularity of the Irving Berlin song of the same name that had come out that summer.

Stepping into smoke-laden air of the officer’s club behind Keever, you tucked your cap beneath your arm, notebook clenched in hand, prepared for a difficult negotiation. Williams, leader of the 100th’s official all-male band, stood to wave the pair of you over to a table in an out-of-the-way corner. A table that was heart-droppingly also occupied by John Brady. Sighing a curse as you navigated your way through the couples dancing to records on the cramped floor, you assembled what you hoped was a neutral expression and almost cut Keever off in your determination to take the seat opposite Brady rather than beside him. Anything to put as much physical distance as possible between you and that man.

Offering Williams a quick nod of gratitude as he pushed in your chair, you took a moment to study the club. Rank certainly afforded you entry here, as often as you could want, but you found you preferred the quieter atmosphere of the ad hoc women’s club. There was no rank in there, no bar, just an odd jumble of mismatched furniture, books, magazines, and records. It was a place where you could just be, rather than this crowded party-like atmosphere, brimming with music, chatter, and gambling.

“Thank you, ladies, very much, for agreeing to go over your setlist with us, I think it would be in all of our best interests if there’s no overlap when we play on the nineteenth.”

“Completely agree, Williams.” Keever planted her elbows on the table aggressively. “Given that you have the privilege of larger numbers, might we have first pick? White Christmas.” She named the year’s most popular song without even waiting for the go ahead, pinning him with her beady, challenging glare.

Flipping open the notebook, you retrieved a pencil from your uniform pocket and looked between the two of them as Williams sighed heavily, casting a glance in Brady’s direction.

“We’ve been practicing that one pretty heavily.” Brady replied slowly, clipped tone betraying how dearly he wanted that song to fall onto their set list.

“As have we.” You replied flatly, raising your chin slightly.

Williams tapped his lips pensively before glancing at a folded scrap of paper in his hand. “If we give you White Christmas, we get Jingle Bells.”

Keever arched an eyebrow slowly, not glancing in your direction once. You found it terribly frustrating as you would have liked to impart to her how much that loss would hurt the horns in particular.

Eventually she nodded firmly. “Agreed. Next…”

Licking your lips slowly before pressing them together tightly, sealed like an envelope, you began a new list in your notebook under the heading entitled ‘Final’ trying to take satisfaction in the fact that you would have the song of the season, at least. With each passing exchange, it became increasingly apparent that you were only there to take notes for Keever. She was completely uninterested in your opinions, never once consulting you as she continued her adversarial negotiation with Williams.

“Well, Williams, that it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” Keever offered a hand to shake across the table once the eight-song setlist had been secured.

Without waiting for you to finish writing down the final agreed-upon title, she promptly departed, leaving you to collect your items.

“Thank you very much, Lieutenant.” You offered a polite smile, rising to shake Williams’ hand just as two warm, broad palms landed on your shoulders with a cry of glee.

“Bo Peep!” Bucky’s voice was much too loud for his proximity, making you squint slightly at the force of it.

“Captain.” You nodded warmly. “I was just –”

“Sitting down. I’m buying you a drink. No, you too, Brady.” There was a dismissive wave across the table and the man in question froze before sinking back down into his chair. “Whatever you were all doing was far too serious. What’ll you have?” The rosy-cheeked man raised a dark eyebrow once he had exerted enough pressure to coax you back into your seat.

“Soda will be fine, thank you, sir.”

“Quit that, it’s Bucky. I’ll be right back with a soda for Bo Peep and a whiskey for the rest of us.” He winked before meandering to the bar.

“I apologize, Lieutenant, it seems you were spotted.” Williams shook his head and you laughed ruefully.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time, stepping into his kingdom.”

The clatter of glassware announced Bucky’s return, the soda slid in your direction before the whiskeys were doled out, the eager Captain taking over Keever’s vacated seat.

“To sunnier skies.” He lifted his glass and the three of you leaned in the clink yours against it, taking a slow sip of the fizzy liquid before settling back. “So what were you all meeting about anyway?”

“Holiday concert.” Williams answer.

Bucky’s eyes lit up and he looked to you quickly. “If you ladies ever need a singer, I am at your service.”

Movement across the table caught your eye and you shifted your gaze to see Brady shaking his head firmly behind Bucky, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Do you sing well, Captain?”

“Not a note, Bo Peep, but I sing with passion.” He laughed brightly and your eyes widened at his self-depreciating honesty before you could not help but joining in his laughter.

“Noted, sir.”

“When is this concert again?” Bucky leaned back, setting his quickly emptied glass onto the table.

“Friday after next.” Brady replied, long fingers once again busily packing that pipe of his.

Bucky whistled dramatically. “Sure your band’s gonna be ready, Williams?”

“Absolutely, sir.” He replied with a firm nod, taking another miniscule sip of his drink. “They’re a fine group, coming together well.”

“And the ladies?”

“Most definitely, Keever wouldn’t let it be any other way.” You smirked and took a deep swallow of soda.

“Well I’ll be there with bells on…and warmed up.” He winked dramatically before standing with an exaggerated stretch. “I’m going to go find some more trouble before I hit the rack, I’ll see each of you bright and early tomorrow.”

Parting with a chorus of ‘yes, sirs’ you took one final sip of your drink before excusing yourself, trying not to trip over your own feet in your desperation to get out of there, eager to return to the peace of your barracks.

The next day found you sitting beneath the shade of your plane’s wing, seeking shelter from the insistent afternoon sunshine. You shook your head at Andie’s third sigh in as many minutes.

“Your dramatics are not going to make our passengers arrive any faster.” You teased, nudging her shoulder with yours.

Today’s practice mission involved live ordinance for both air-to-air firing of the machine guns and a bomb run – coordination with the target aircraft was extensive, but so, it seemed, was the temptation of ice cream in the Mess.

“Just eager to get wheels up is all, you heard the boys from the 418th, closest thing to real combat they’ve experienced they said.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, trying not to recall the way Brady’s eyes had been alight as he and his crew animatedly recalled their flight. Who would have known that man actually had warm blood flowing in his veins.

To assess your crew’s performance, several experienced aerial gunners and a bombardier would be joining you, if they ever chose to set down their dessert spoons, submitting a score to Dutch at the end of the flight. You were quite frankly as anxious as Andie to get this show on the road, but did your best to remain outwardly calm, taking in the mood of the rest of the girls.

Mouse was reenacting some amusing scene from the enlisted personnel’s club, playing both parts of a dancing couple, much to the amusement of Ivy, Millie, and Nita. Babs and Gina, ever diligent, were bent over the mission plan, the latter spreading a few maps on the blacktop for them to confer upon. Fletcher was set slightly apart, knees bent, working away in a small notebook with long smooth strokes of her pencil. Tilting your head, you were almost convinced she was sketching when the sound of an approaching jeep had Andie leaping to her feet with a triumphant cry.

“Finally!”

Pulling yourself to your feet you shuffled forward to meet the three men as Andie shouted back to the crew.

“On your feet…you too, Fletch!”

You barely resisted pull of a grin as the Right Waist Gunner finally earned her nickname, you waited for everyone to slide onto the aircraft before inverting your way aboard last.

As you started your engines, you watched the C-47 take off with its outdated target aircraft in tow, letting the routine of preflight checks take over the urge to focus on the fluttering in your stomach. The day was beautiful, the atmosphere incredibly smooth and friendly as you climbed to 30,000 feet, everyone affixing their oxygen masks before you began to follow Gina’s charted course.

The sight of the C-47 as it came into view at one o’clock high made your heart lurch with pride, your breath hitching in your throat. Taking a steady breath, you forced yourself to call it out calmly.

“Target aircraft ahead, one o’clock high, save your ammo until we come alongside. Remember not to shoot the Sky Train, ladies.”

The deafening sound of the Browning machine guns as they opened up was an entirely new experience for you, your eyes drifting to Andie’s to share an intense look. The pair of you were thus far only accustomed to the friendly thrum of the engines keeping you aloft. The shattered peace was a sharp reminder that this was no mere plane – it was a weapon of war.

“Ladies that is one destroyed plane….” Andie crowed with pride as she pressed her left temple against the window to eye the wounded craft. “Practically shredded.”

“All credit to Schroeder on that one, Ma’am, fairly certain she landed the bulk of those rounds.” Fletch’s winded voice came through your headset.

Despite the mask covering the lower half of her face, the glint in her eyes told you Andie was grinning wickedly as she turned back to you. “You mean Shredder.”

Allowing the crew to share a laugh, you then requested quiet to confirm the heading with Gina, turning on the autopilot for the bombing run, pleased with Mouse’s gleeful feedback that the target was ‘smashed to smithereens.’

Twilight had just settled across the base when your wheels bumped down onto the runway, taxiing to your hardstand with the assistance of a ground crewman bearing a flashlight. Tired but satisfied, particularly with the excellent score your crew had received, you dismissed the enlisted ladies to go find what was left for dinner in the Mess Hall, massaging your tender cheeks as you walked with the three other officers to your Mess.

“Suppose we’ll get used to those masks eventually.” Babs muttered, red triangular indent very evident on her lily-white skin.

“Can only hope so.” Andie nodded in agreement, gripping her chin to crack her jaw.

It was a satisfying soreness, you thought, born of productivity. Of purpose. And if contributing, doing your part, brought you pain? So be it.

The next ten days passed in a blur of primarily flying and then practicing – either with the band or alone at the edge of the base – in your free time. It felt as though you had just finalized the setlist with Williams, Keever, and Brady yet here you were, setting out folding chairs around the perimeter of the gymnasium with space for a dancefloor in the center, the audience scheduled to arrival in less than two hours.

“Keever really likes to leave everything to you doesn’t she.” Lionheart called as she approached down the aisle, reaching for the next chair to help.

“If I had known what being co-leader would mean” You shook your head ruefully. “But you, ma’am, aren’t even in the band. You should be enjoying your evening before this whole thing happens – for better or worse.”

Her responding giggle and persistence in assisting you eased a great deal of tension in your shoulders.

“If I help you, you can listen to my proposition while we work. It’s a win-win, honestly.” She grinned mischievously, making you raise an eyebrow. “Oh don’t, it’s nothing awful just – I got us that pair of passes to go into Salt Lake City for the weekend.”

The chair in your hands landed on the wooden floor a little harder than you had intended in your shock, staring at your friend openly. “That’s…Dutch has only given out a dozen weekend passes since we formed up in Walla Walla, that’s incredible!”

“Didn’t take much convincing, just a little reminding of how well we’ve been doing. Now, in return for this incredible feat, I need to ask you a favour.”

“This is the proposition part.” You smirked as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth, nodding apprehensively.

“My parents would hunt me down and murder me if I go into town and don’t stop by, but I just cannot bear the thought of facing them alone. Not now, not after I finally…got to grow up and…well be me. Please say you’ll come with me. Be my buffer.”

You could count on one hand the number of times Lionheart had mentioned her parents, and the level of detail included in those conversations had been even less. Her father was a businessman of means, currently involved in several grocery stores across Salt Lake City called ‘Crystal Palace Markets’. Her mother was a glamourous woman who had been utterly perplexed by her choice of propellers and fuel tanks over beauty parlors and a husband. It was no wonder she felt the need for someone on her wing at dinner, and while you were not entirely certain your presence would help the situation, you were not about to abandon her.

“You’re safe with me, Lionheart.” You nodded warmly, earning a bright grin and a squeeze about the shoulders before the pair of you returned to the task at hand while plotting the rest of your destinations during your forty-eight hours of freedom.

“Well if it isn’t the worst shepherdess Bo Peep, yet again without her sheep, and that toothless Lion.”

The snide tone told you immediately, without needing to turn around, that the speaker was your least favourite member of the 100th – Friedkin. You loathed him deeply, found nothing redeeming nor capable about him whatsoever, and thus chose to not even acknowledge his existence. After you continued working for several moments, no response or glance in his direction offered, a huff of annoyance escaped him before the sound of his footfalls retreated, the slam of the exterior door signalling his exit.

Looking over your shoulders, both you and Lionheart confirmed he was truly gone before she sighed.

“I’m sure you resent that horrible nickname…”

A heavy exhale gathered in your cheeks before falling from your lips. “What I resent, honestly, is the implication that my crew are lambs being led to the slaughter. They are tough, intelligent, competent women – some of the finest the USAAF has to offer. I don’t care what they call me. Frankly, I’ve been called worse, but I cannot stand how it frames them.”

A clatter amongst the music stands sent your eyes rocketing towards the stage to see Brady moving around up there, distributing sheet music. “Lurking around like some ghoul, Brady?! Listening in on private conversations…” You snapped, annoyed by the fact that he surely overheard something so personal.

Even several rows back you could see the tick in his jaw, the furrow of his brow in response to your outburst. “Just doing my job, Lieutenant. Perhaps you shouldn’t say things you don’t want others to hear in the middle of the gymnasium!” He retorted sharply before rigidly continuing on with his task.

Clenching your fists at your sides, you could taste the venom on the tip of your tongue, the feel of Lionheart’s hand landing on your elbow making you jump as she startled you.

“We’re all done here, let’s get you something to eat.”

Nostrils flaring with the force of your exhale, you nodded after a moment, following her out to eat a small dinner before returning to the barracks to change. Your Class A uniform was waiting for you on the hook at the head of your bed where you had hung it last night to draw out any wrinkles. It had been quite a while since you had found occasion to wear it, though you supposed you would be wearing it all weekend now that you were headed into the city.

Uniform changed and hair tidied, you grabbed your trumpet case from its safe storage beneath your cot and hurried to the gymnasium where the 280th’s band was warming up. Being the smaller of the two groups, you also had the dubious honor of being the opening act for the night. Despite the fact that you were not the last the arrive, at least five members were later than you, Keever still looked prepared to murder you as you stepped into the change room.

“So glad you could join us, get warmed up.”

Offering a bland smile and a nod, you set about unpacking and warming up, giving sympathetic looks to those who arrived after you as their greetings were even less friendly. Once the entire band was fully assembled, there was just enough time to run through a few scales together before a knock on the door signalled it was time to go on.

“Don’t embarrass Thornton or the squadron.” Keever snapped before marching toward the stage.

“Some pep talk.” Maisie the trombonist muttered, and you bit the inside of your cheek to smother a laugh, filing out.

A remarkable number of people had already gathered, the crowd mainly composed of folks from the 100th, including the ground crew, but you also recognized Wendover’s base personnel mixed in, too. Occupying the centre block of seats on the stage, you focused on Keever’s expectant face. Due to the lack of musicians, she was pulling double-duty, conducting and playing clarinet. Somehow you thought she did not mind playing at the front of the group, in the spotlight. You were more than happy to stand amongst your brass section, a couple of trumpets and trombones, and one lonely French horn to keep you company.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for joining us for the 100th’s first holiday concert! Without further ado, I give you the 280th’s Ladies of Song.” Keever spoke into the mic at her left.

Oh so the band had a name now. And not a very good one. Perhaps the sparse applause accompanied by the snarky howl of ‘Let’s do this Keener!’ would help convince her to change it to something better.

With a deep breath she raised her clarinet, the rest of you following suit with practiced precision before Keever gave a firm nod, launching the band into the opening number of Deck the Halls.

Music had been there for you even longer than flying, a place of escape where your mind could wander, where dreams would unfurl. It was easy to lose yourself in the setlist, building on the increasing momentum of applause from the audience, the 280th’s poorly named but very talented group winning them over with sheer skill. As you turned your music to the score for White Christmas, you were surprised at how quickly it had flown by. Surprised further still by the number of couples on the dancefloor.

“With that, folks, we’ve come to our finale. Thank you very much for your warm reception and we hope you stick around to watch the boys play, too. While we won’t be very likely to see one here in Utah, please enjoy our White Christmas.” Keever preened under the murmurs of delight and exuberant applause, basking a moment before turning back to the band to cue the song, drawing out the end of the song with a dramatic finish.

As you were taking your bows, you glanced to the wings to note the men were already waiting there, bunched along the edges of the stage out of sight of the audience, watching with their hands on their hips or crossed defiantly. And naturally, in the thick of it, was Brady. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you collected your music folder, leaving the one already set out on each stand before the show by the very man himself, and shuffled past him off the stage.

Doing your utmost to ignore how well his Class As fit his frame, how tidy his hair looked without the interference of his cap, and especially how perfectly his cologne suited him, you escaped down the steps backstage. Pausing a moment to empty your spit valve in a trashcan, you returned to the changeroom to pack up your trumpet as the strains of Jingle Bells began to fill the halls. Debating with yourself a moment, you sighed before stepping into the back of the gymnasium to lean against the wall and listen in. They sounded frustratingly good – and not just because of their numbers, but they had actual talent. Setting your case on the ground at your feet, you surrendered to your curiosity and stayed for another song, and then another.

The audience had grown larger now, every seat taken, the dancefloor packed, and standing room quickly evaporating. The ladies may have had the best song of the night, but no one was going to remember your set by the time this was over.

And then Brady stood up to play his solo.

For a man who did not say much, other than snipes and jabs, he seemed utterly confident with that saxophone in his hand. Each note was flawless, was landed upon impeccably. The instrument seemed to yield entirely to him and by the time he sat back down half the women in attendance were surely in love with him while the men were whistling and cheering appreciatively. Swiping your case from where it rested on the wooden floor, you spun on your heel to exit into the crisp night air, silence abruptly enveloping you as the exterior door swung shut in your wake.

Damn that man.

You were still thinking about that solo as the train jostled across the desert toward Salt Lake City the next morning, Lionheart napping on your shoulder as you stared out the window unseeing. How utterly inconvenient that he was that talented.

Buildings began to dot the landscape before growing into clusters and clumps before suddenly you were on the outskirts of the city itself, the Conductor announcing your stop was next. Nudging your friend awake with your shoulder, the pair of you collected your small flight bags and moved towards the end of the carriage, preparing to disembark.

The Rio Grande Depot was impressive with its high-arched windows and countless services, one of the largest stations you had found yourself in to date.

“C’mon, let’s get rid of these bags so I can show you around.” Lionheart grinned, tugging on your wrist, pulling you along the polished floors into the bustling downtown.

Despite the fact that her family lived in the city, she had insisted on booking a room with two twin beds at a hotel near the station, the front desk clerk accepting your luggage even though the room would not be ready until after three. Yanking you back into the street you were then treated to a personal tour of Lionheart’s hometown, eating lunch at her favorite restaurant, lingering in the record shop where you purchased a copy of Heart of Texas – Thornton’s birthday was next month, and you were formulating plans. Spotting a music store, it was your turn to drag her inside, buying a pad of blank sheet music as well as a few performance pieces for the 280th’s band.

By four o’clock you were both tired and footsore, eager to return to the hotel to rest and freshen-up before dinner at six. Sitting on the end of the narrow bed in your slip, you were flipping through one of your new acquisitions from the music store as Lionheart was soaking in the bath with the door open.

“Mother said she would send her driver, so we won’t have to worry about catching the streetcar to the house.” She called out to you.

Blinking several times as you struggled to process the level of wealth your friend seemed accustomed to, you nodded slowly. “How considerate?”

A peal of laughter echoed from the tiled room before splashes told you she was finishing up. She emerged damp and glowing, wrapped in a towel, to have you tame her hair into braids before the pair of you slid into fresh shirts under your uniforms. Straightening your tie, you could only hope your appearance would suffice in the intimidating atmosphere.

Looking up at the Tudor mansion as you climbed from the back of the chauffeured car, you were convinced it would not. Lionheart hesitated at the door, almost reaching for the handle before opting to ring the bell – suddenly a stranger in her own home. How would you behave if…no, when you returned home? It was a difficult scene to imagine now, especially when you were utterly unsure when the chance might even present itself.

A middle-aged woman in a black dress opened the door, smile splitting her tired face as she gasped. “Miss Constance! How good it is to see you!”

“Betsy!” Your friend replied warmly, quickly embracing the woman, whom you were quite certain was not her mother, before dragging you closer to introduce you. “This is our housekeeper, Betsy. Known her my whole life.”

“Please to meet you miss, now come inside the both of you.” She collected your caps to hang on hooks by the door. “Mrs. Hart is just finishing up upstairs, Mr. Hart will be back from the office any minute now. I’ll fetch you some drinks while you wait in the sitting room.”

Doing your best to take in the rich wood panelling and lavish decorations while also keeping up with the pair of women chattering away as they led you through a maze of hallways, your jaw dropped slightly as you arrived in the grand sitting room anchored by an enormous Christmas tree.

“We Harts don’t joke around when it comes to the Holidays.” Lionheart laughed and sank onto one of the velvet couches, coaxing you to do the same with a firm pat of the cushions.

“Did you grow up here?” You asked in a hushed tone as you sat with more care, tucking your skirt beneath your thighs neatly as you sat on the plush couch beside her.

“Mmm father had this house built when I was…ten, I think? Before that we lived in a much more normal house.” She laughed easily.

“Now, Connie, don’t go belittling your father’s accomplishments.” Mrs. Hart’s voice carried into the room before she entered, clad in emerald-green to match her striking eyes, though you could see where Lionheart got her golden mane from.

You stood quickly as she swept into the room, quite certain her earrings alone were worth more than your annual pay.

“Thank you very much for having me, Mrs. Hart.” Your well-trained manners dictated you greet and thank your hostess immediately.

“Nonsense, it’s my pleasure to meet one of Connie’s friends. She’s always writing about you in her letters. Let’s be friends too, you must call me Temperance.” Her red lips stretched into a smile that appeared friendly, but her teeth reminded you a of a predator.

How Lionheart had survived a childhood with this woman was beyond you.

The sound of the front door closing firmly had Mrs. Hart smoothing her hands down the front of her dress nervously before she moved to the sideboard, fetching a cut crystal glass to fill with amber liquid from a decanter at the ready.

“That’ll be father.” Lionheart whispered as you hesitantly sank back down. “In a mood sounds like.”

Betsy’s return with two glasses of lemonade was a welcome sight, the tart liquid giving you some courage before the patriarch of the Hart family strode into the room. He wore a severe but exquisitely cut black suit and crisp white shirt, his dark hair graying at the temples, brown eyes scanning over the pair of you quietly before coming to rest on the pilot’s wings on Lionheart’s chest.

“I’ll admit I found the entire proposition preposterous at the outset…” He sighed, barely acknowledging Mrs. Hart as she set the glass in his hand. He took a deep sip before continuing. “But there you are, Lieutenant Constance Hart, Pilot of your own B-17 crew.”

A barely audible exhale shuddered from your friend’s body as she nodded once in confirmation of the fact.

“Cook made roast beef for you, and apple pie…” He sharply raised a finger as her jaw dropped in shock, the beginnings of the word ‘how’ forming in her throat. “It’s best left unsaid how I’ve accomplished your favourite meal, Constance, let’s just enjoy your achievements.”

“Yes, father.” She replied quietly, gulping down nearly half of her lemonade as he announced he was going to change for dinner.

“Well!” Mrs. Hart gloated as she perched onto the settee perpendicular to the couch. “That went better than expected, wouldn’t you say.” She tittered, before suddenly clasping her hands together. “Oh! Before I forget, I got you girls some Christmas gifts.” Springing from her chair, she hurried over to the tree to fetch two parcels.

Setting the smaller one in your lap, you found yourself looking to her startled. “Mrs. Hart, I apologize I didn’t come prepared, I…”

“Now none of that, it’s just a small token of the season, go on.” She nodded and sat down on her perch once more, eagerly watching you unwrap it.

Lifting the lid on the box you unveiled, you found yourself gasping for the second time that evening to find the distinct blue teardrop bottle of Evening in Paris perfume. While you had owned a few dime store versions of the scent, the genuine article had always remained out of your price bracket.

“Mrs. Hart–”

“Temperance!” She laughed in playful admonishment. “Oh I’m so glad you like it! You and Connie may be out there taking on the world but it’s important to never forget that you are women first.”

“I am unspeakably grateful, thank you so much.” You nodded firmly, cradling it to your chest.

“Now you, Connie, go on!” Mrs. Hart nodded eagerly, watching her daughter unwrap a velvet hinged box that opened to reveal a diamond fringe necklace and matching pair of earrings. “Those will look divine with that blue satin dress of yours, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely, mother.” Lionheart put on a bright smile and nodded firmly, though you did not doubt for a moment that she was also questioning the practicality of such a gift during a war.

Mr. Hart returned in a more casual suit just as Betsy stepped in to announce dinner was served. The food was immaculate, most certainly the best you had tasted in your entire life, and went a long way to making Mrs. Hart’s litany of society gossip more tolerable.

“Oh and you remember Victoria? James and Edna’s girl? Married one of those Mormon boys before he shipped out, though that’s hardly avoidable in this town. I would not be surprised if there’s a baby on the way in that household too!”

Mr. Hart seemed perfectly practiced at tuning out that which did not interest him, occasionally engaging Lionheart or yourself with questions about training or life on base, but as soon as dessert was cleared away, both of her parents drifted off to their respective lives – Mr. Hart to his study, Mrs. Hart to get ready for bridge night.

“Let me show you my room and then we’ll get out of here.” Lionheart muttered, grabbing her newly gifted jewellery.

You followed her up the grand staircase to the second floor, cradling your precious perfume, into to her perfectly preserved bedroom. The bed was neatly made, photos of her with a variety of planes tucked into the edge of the mirror. She walked over to the polished oak dresser to pull open the top drawer, sliding the velvet case in alongside numerous others of a similar nature.

“I was someone else when I left this room. I’m going to be entirely different again when I come back next time.” She sighed as she slid the heavy wooden drawer shut.

“It’ll be waiting here for you, all the same. No matter who you are.” You offered quietly and she sat heavily on the frilly duvet.

“And if I don’t come back to it?”

Frowning, you stepped closer to grab her hand. “Won’t do you any good to think like that, Lionheart. Your room, your family, your whole life will be waiting here for you. You just have to focus on doing your job and coming back to it. Don’t let the doubts in.”

Her eyes lifted slowly to meet yours before she clasped your hand with both of hers and squeezed tightly. “Don’t let ‘em in.” With a firm nod and one more squeeze, she rose to her feet. “Now let’s get the heck outta here before my mother finds someone to marry us off to.”

The return of her mischievous grin brought relief as it broke the ominous gloom of the previous moment and the pair of you dashed down the stairs and out into the night to enjoy your last twenty-four hours of freedom.

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

Read Part Three

The Last To Know Masterlist

Tag list: @luminouslywriting, @dustofbrokenheart, @precious-little-scoundrel, @beingalive1, @phyllisthefirst, @bcon24, @louzello

#john brady x reader #john brady x you #john brady #ladies who brady #mota fanfic #mota au #masters of the air #mota

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scarfgirl · 7 months

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weird worm shit posting but i saw some art of fem uber and fem leet running around and im all for it . my take on it Leet being a total sugar gremlin who is not adverse to conflict (but is adverse to regularly changing clothes or brushing her hair ...swet pants for life /cheeto stained lips and fingers !) and has incredible up and down mood swings (usually because a favorite piece of gear got destroyed followed by a upswing as a new favored piece of gear she just created comes into creation ) she has some old favs that have stood the test of time like her Captain N the game master belt and gun , her power glove , pokeball ,back to the future hover board and ghostbusters spagetti strainer cap and dosnt always bring all her gear with her (knowing that once its gone its gone !) Uber could go and be successful on her own (she is athletic and good looking ) but god she loves the little cheeto eating nerd and ubers twitch stream actually got a influx of viewers when teamed with leet (prior to leet joining it was more of a T and A fake gamer girl stream but sad swety men paid the bills ) with leet helping pick out cool characters for Uber to cosplay as, current games that resonated with the player base as well as the two of them good naturedly arguing and fighting (viewers will try to goad leet into going anger gremlin in the comments ) uber enjoys the cosplay hijinks even if most of the costumes are less then productive for fighting and running (wardrobe malfuntions are definitely a thing ) they generally avoid prolonged conflicts much prefering to run in , cause a commotion, steal or tag something then run away and usually picks targets that will resonate with their viewers and avoiding harming innocents civilians (though innocent civilians will be bumped , bruised and inconvienced !)

#worm #parahumans #wildbow #chibi #wormblr

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stereax · 5 months

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why do people hate vegas so much?

Do you want the Stereanalysis version or the short one?

The short answer is basically this: The Vegas Golden Knights entered the league and were expected to be hot garbage. Despite this, they had what many assumed was a "miracle" run in the 2018 playoffs, making it all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals, and have since established themselves as a consistent contender. Many haters of the Knights claim that Vegas was "gifted" a championship team from the onset (revisionist history at best), that Vegas didn't "go through years of pain" like most expansion teams (which, it's not their fault they're good?), and that the refs and Bettman want Vegas to win (which is said about 32 out of 32 teams in this league). Additionally, it's believed that a lot of Vegas fans are "fair-weather" and that they'll abandon the team when it doesn't do well, which ties into the theory that the NHL is "rigging" it for Vegas. Winning the Cup last year, over the undercat Florida Panthers to boot, angered many, especially due to Vegas's owner's bold prediction of "Cup in six [years]" made before their first season.

Additionally, Vegas's front office has a history of big deals. From trading fan favorite Fleury with no prior warning, leaving him to find out online; to the story of Haula, who literally showed up to practice and his keycard didn't work and that's how he learned he got traded three days before his wedding (but we don't talk about that one because Fleury is Fleury); to every single Vegas trade and trade deadline where they seem to acquire every big free agent and give up fairly little in return (Hertl, Hanifin, Quick, Barbashev, Eichel, Stone, Pacioretty, the list goes on). Many people can't divorce the front office from the team itself and get very upset when Vegas "poaches" the players they want.

On top of this, you have the "cap circumvention" narrative, claiming that players such as Stone are "faking" injuries so Vegas can do cap magic and add more players than they should be "allowed" to. First of all, the idea that players like Stone are faking injury is bullshit, especially in a league where players like Stutzle and J Hughes have outright stated that they played injured for long stretches of the season. Fun fact, the NHL does have doctors that run checks on LTIRed players and verify that they're truly injured. (The Leafs got into some hot water last offseason when they were LTIRing Murray and then later with Klingberg as well, as the NHL was suspicious that they had moved Murray's surgery date and recovery time to allow themselves to "bury" Murray's contract on LTIR for the season.) If anything, Stone was probably still hurt in the playoffs. The man is seemingly incapable of playing an 82-game season and yet people are screaming that he's faking injuries when he does get hurt. (Also, on cap circumvention: Nobody remembers Kucherov anymore but that was so much more blatant. Additionally, the league has considered closing LTIR "loopholes" several times now and several times has decided against it. Your team doesn't do it? Okay. It doesn't give you a moral high ground, though, as it is patently legal in the NHL rules to do so.)

Plus, there's definitely some disdain for the glitz and glamor of Vegas. Sparkly gold uniforms, City of Sin, pink flamingos, shiny golden helmets, elaborate pre-game shows where knights slay dragons, slot machines, glitter, all of that. I'm not going to bring up my personal theories here, but I'd advance the question to Vegas haters why they dislike the spectacle of Vegas, and whether that dislike also may apply to other areas where men may be associated with glitter, pink, sin, sparkles, and all that, such as, y'know, drag queens, or gay men more generally.

But hey, that's just a theory... a stereax theory.

#stereanswers #vegas golden knights #vgk #stereanalysis #I guess

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smellysluna · 1 month

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Invisible Chapter One

Chapter One: The Purpose

Pairing: Oikawa Toru x Spy! Reader

Story summary:

As an undercover agent at the Olympics, you're on a mission to expose a drug cartel. However, your mission gets complicated when you repeatedly cross paths with Oikawa Tooru, a charming volleyball player with a keen eye for the truth.

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The bustling excitement of the Olympic Village is intoxicating. Athletes from all over the world carry the weight of their nations' hopes and dreams on their shoulders. The air is thick with the hum of various languages and the occasional roar of applause from practice sessions.

You navigate with purpose, eyes scanning every face, every movement. However, you’re not here to compete; your game is played in the shadows.

As you weave through the crowds, the scale of the event sinks in. The Olympics aren’t just a gathering of athletes; they’re a microcosm of the world. Each person here is a story, a mix of ambition, anxiety, and passion.

It’s easy to get lost in the sea of humanity, to blend in with the ebb and flow of emotions that permeate the atmosphere. This is what you count on, what allows you to move unnoticed.

The thrill of being surrounded by so many, yet remaining invisible, is exhilarating.

It’s a reminder of your purpose.

Your mission is clear: infiltrate the Olympics to investigate a suspicious sponsor with potential ties to drug smuggling.

The mastermind behind the cartel, Stefan Albescu, has been funding an Olympic team in an attempt to launder money.

Your superiors have tasked you with uncovering the truth and finding the proof.

The gravity of the situation weighs heavily on your mind. It’s not just about the potential criminal activities—there’s a delicate balance of international relations at play. A drug cartel funding a country's Olympic team? Any misstep could have far-reaching consequences.

Disguised as support staff, with a cap to cover your face, you blend seamlessly into the crowd.

As you walk, your eyes flicker over many people, taking note of their demeanour, their interactions. You’re constantly analysing, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

This is your life—always on edge, always assessing threats. It’s not an easy existence, but you’ve grown accustomed to it. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that you’re the one standing between order and chaos, even if no one else knows it.

Your attention is momentarily captured by a brightly coloured flyer fluttering in the wind. You snatch it mid-air, your curiosity piqued by the bold letters and flashy graphics.

The flyer promises a cultural exchange event later in the week, something that could be a perfect cover for your investigations.

As you absorb the details of the event, you feel a solid, warm presence against your shoulder, followed by a gentle, surprised exclamation.

"Ah, my apologies," a smooth voice says, and you look up to find yourself staring into the eyes of a charming man. He looks familiar, and after a moment of thought, you recall where you've seen him before. Scanning through the countless profiles of Olympic athletes, you remember him.

You can’t exactly recall his name but you think it was something like “Okinawa Tery” —close enough, you thought. You did remember he played for the Argentinian Olympic Volleyball team. You looked through his file more than usual. A Japanese player on an Argentinian squad had piqued your curiosity, but you quickly discovered there was nothing suspicious going on as he just naturalised as Argentinian to keep playing volleyball.

You stop your train of thoughts and opt to analyse him in the flesh. His hair is perfectly styled, his smile a calculated blend of charm and warmth. The kind of man who attracts attention, who draws people in with a magnetic allure that’s hard to resist. You can see that many would be captivated by him.

But you’re not like most people. You’ve encountered your fair share of charming men, men who use their looks and charisma as weapons, tools to get what they want. You know how to see through the façade, to recognize the person behind the mask.

Okinawa is striking, but you remain unfazed. You’ve danced this dance before, and you know how to lead it.

“No problem,” you reply, stepping aside to let him pass. There’s a flicker of surprise in Okinawa’s eyes at your nonchalance, but he recovers quickly, offering a slight bow before continuing on his way.

You watch him for a moment, noting the subtle way he carries himself, the confidence in his stride. It’s not arrogance, but rather a deep-seated assurance in his abilities and his place in the world.

As he walks away, Oikawa’s thoughts linger on the brief encounter. He’s used to people reacting differently to him, especially women. There’s usually a moment of awe, a flush of excitement, or a bashful smile. But you—there was something different about you. The way you looked at him, it wasn’t with the typical admiration he’s come to expect. It was as if you were sizing him up, analysing him like he was just another piece in a puzzle. He can’t help but wonder.

He’s learned to read people, to understand their intentions, their desires. It’s a skill that’s served him well in volleyball and in life.

He glances back over his shoulder, expecting to see you again, maybe to catch your eye and flash his signature smile, the one that usually makes hearts skip a beat. But when he looks, you’re already gone, vanished into the sea of people like a ghost.

Oikawa pauses, his mind whirring with possibilities. Who were you? Why did you seem so... unaffected?

He’s never been one to shy away from a challenge, and the thought of understanding why you looked him up and down like the flyer in hour hand sparks a flicker of excitement in him. But just as quickly as the thought comes, he brushes it aside.

He’s here for a reason, and that reason doesn’t involve chasing after women. There’s a gold medal at stake, and that’s where his focus needs to be.

You, on the other hand, tuck the flyer into your pocket and resume your path, your mind already shifting back to the task at hand. You’ve got bigger things to worry about than an encounter with a handsome athlete.

The thought of Okinawa fades into the background as you mentally review the details of your mission.

You’re here to do a job, and nothing—not even a handsome face—can distract you from that.

As you move through the village, you reflect on the nature of your work. You’ve always been able to separate your personal feelings from your professional duties. It’s what makes you good at what you do. But every now and then, something—or someone—comes along that challenges that separation. You’ve learned to deal with it, to push it aside, but there’s always a small part of you that wonders what it would be like to live a normal life. To not always be on edge, not always looking over your shoulder.

But normalcy is a luxury you can’t afford, and you’ve made your peace with that. Your life is about the mission, about protecting those who can’t protect themselves. And right now, that mission is Stefan Albescu.

You can’t afford to let anything distract you from that.

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Notes:

I hope you like the concept of yn calling Oikawa, "Okinawa". I think I'm going to keep that gag going until he's like wtf who you calling Okinawa 👀

All comments and reblogs are appreciated and don't be scared to ask to add you to the taglist 🙈🙈

Taglist: #Open

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru #spy au #Haikyuu spy au #Haikyuu spy #hq oikawa #oikawa fluff #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa toru x reader

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serenelystrange · 2 months

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At AO3 or under the cut!

In hindsight, the whole thing is Maddie’s fault, really. Buck’s been working as the handyman extraordinaire for the Wish Granted boutique hotel for nearly three years when Maddie finally wanders back into his life and becomes a regular at cozy hotel restaurant. Buck watches her and their head chef Chimney slowly fall in love with a mix of pride and the cringe that comes with catching his sibling making out in the back pantry with one of his closest friends.

It's Chim who suggests to Athena and Bobby that maybe their little restaurant could have a lounge singer for the quieter wine nights, and once they’ve heard Maddie’s sweetly melodic voice, they readily agree. It’s not until a few months into her job that Maddie drums up the courage to ask if they can potentially add a piano player to help with all the song requests from the audience of largely older men. Athena, in her infinite wisdom, and what Buck is positive is some form of future-sight, agrees.

She leaves the hiring up to Bobby, who schedules several interviews over the next few weeks, each one adequate but unremarkable. Which brings Buck to the day that changes everything, and it’s all because of a busted air conditioner.

“Buck!” Hen calls out from her Managers corner at the front desk. “Oh you found a fan, thank goodness.”

Buck grins and hefts the heavy metal fan in his arms as he approaches.

“Yeah, this was in the maintenance shed. It might be older than me, but it’ll help you cool down until the HVAC people can fix whatever is going on with the air on this floor.”

“Some handyman you are,” Hen teases, smiling gratefully as Buck plugs the dusted and cleaned fan in and turns the blast onto her and their concierge handler Ravi.

“You don’t want me messing with HVAC,” Buck says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the cuff of the unfortunately long sleeved shirt he’d chosen before he knew the air conditioning was broken. “I’d just break it worse and Cap and Athena wouldn’t appreciate those bills.”

Hen laughs. “You know Bobby was kidding when he told you to call him Captain, right? This is a hotel, not a ship.”

“It suits him!” Buck defends, shrugging. “Plus, it’s less fun if he knows I know he was just messing with me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hen says, eyes moving towards the hotel door on instinct as the chime sounds. “Incoming, Ravi,” she says, gesturing to a man approaching the desk with a small boy on his hip and a nervous look on his face.

Buck watches them approach with the same mild interest he has for every guest, wondering what their story is, until they get close enough for Buck to really see the man, and he has to practically catch his breath.

“Oh my god,” he whispers to Hen, turning his back to the little family. “Who just walks around being that hot?”

Hen snickers, and doesn’t look up from the paperwork she’s suddenly made herself busy with. “That is a beautiful man,” she agrees.

Buck is already going through the stages of grief that this gorgeous man will only be there a night, when he hears the response to Ravi’s offer of assistance.

“I have an interview with Bobby Nash,” the guy says, quiet but sure, “for the piano player position.”

“Buck can take you to his office!” Hen jumps into action, giving the man a sunny smile that Buck immediately distrusts. He knows shenanigans when he sees them.

“What? I..” Buck says, caught off guard, before sighing internally and shrugging.

“Sure,” he says, giving the adorable boy a little wave before trying to give the absurdly beautiful man his most professional smile. “It’s just down the hall here,” he says, coming around the desk to lead the way. “Sorry about the heat,” he adds after a moment, “someone should be coming out soon to fix it, hopefully.”

“Eh,” the guy says, grimacing slightly, “at least it wont look like all the sweat is from nerves, right?”

Buck can’t help it, he laughs slightly, the poor guy is a mess.

“Don’t worry about it,” Buck says, “Bobby is great, you don’t have to be nervous.”

“Thanks,” the guy says, hugging the boy closer for a moment as they get closer to the office. “I just really need this to work out, especially because it’s..” he trails off, blushing red as he looks off. “Never mind,” he says, “didn’t mean to vent my issues to a stranger.”

Buck stops, a few feet from Bobby’s closed office door, and turns to face the man fully.

“Hey,” he says, noticing for the first time how under the stubble and tired eyes, the man looks maybe only a little bit older than Buck. “I’m Buck, and you are?”

The guy rolls his eyes reflexively but gives him a little grin as he reaches out a hand to shake.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, and then gestures to the sleepy boy resting on his shoulder. “And this little guy is Chris. He’s almost five, and is usually napping on Abuela’s couch right now instead of being dragged along to a job interview with dad.”

“Couch naps are the best,” Buck agrees, grinning over at the boy, before looking back up to Eddie. “What was “especially”?” he asks, curiously. “I know the pay is decent, but I’m sure there’s better paying jobs out there.”

Eddie looks uncomfortable for another moment before seeming to internally say ‘fuck it’, and shrugging the shoulder that Chris isn’t laying on before answering.

“It comes with a place to live,” he says. “We’ve been staying with my grandmother since I got back, but she lives in a tiny one-bedroom and she’d never admit it, but I know we’re starting to drive her crazy.”

“Oh!” Bucks says, nodding with understanding, “yeah, I live here too! Rent is insane out there, I think I actually cried when Bobby said that I’d get a room and a salary with the maintenance job. No shame!”

Eddie gives him a grateful look, and they continue walking the last few feet, Bobby’s door swinging open just as they get there.

“You must be Edmundo,” Bobby says with a friendly smile, “thanks for delivering him, Buck.”

“Just Eddie is fine,” Eddie says, giving Bobby a firm handshake, before gesturing to Chris. “Sorry about the last-minute addition, my sitter had a doctor’s appointment she couldn’t miss.”

“Never apologize for taking care of your kid, son,” Bobby says, genially. “Come on in, this shouldn’t take too long.”

Eddie moves into the office and takes a seat, a now-sleeping Chris snoring softly into his neck.

“Good luck,” Buck says, standing awkwardly in the doorway for a moment, before nodding to Bobby and closing the door gently after him as he leaves.

He spares a moment to shoot a wish into the universe that Eddie gets the job. If Bobby doesn’t hire him and his big brown eyes, Buck might just dramatically curl up and die.

Eddie looks down at the two big suitcases that hold everything he and Chris own as he loads them into his truck, frowning. He’s so grateful for the job and the place to live, but he still wonders if all of this will be too hard for Chris. Sighing, he makes sure Chris is buckled into his booster seat before climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. He supposes there’s only one way to find out.

When they get to the hotel, Eddie parks in the employee section of the lot, worrying his lip at how far the walk will be for Chris and his crutches day to day, but shakes his head. He’ll carry his son around every day if it means they have a safe and stable home. It’s one of the days where Chris insists on walking for himself, so Eddie lets him, wheeling along the bags as they slowly make their way to the front doors.

There’s a pretty, brunette woman waiting at the desk for him, with a paper employee handbook in her hands along with a key card.

“I’m Maddie,” she says, giving Chris a soft look and a sunny smile. “I’m the lounge singer, we’ll be hanging out a lot, so Bobby and Athena sent me to make sure you two get settled in.”

“Hey Mads, do you know where the…” Buck comes out from the back office and stops short, seeing Eddie and Chris at the desk. “You guys are here! Awesome!”

He looks down at Chris, who is standing slightly buckled in his crutches after the long walk to the door, and gives a little frown.

“Give me like 5 minutes,” he says to Maddie, “just need to check with Bobby about something real quick.”

“He said they were all set,” Maddie says, but Buck is already jogging off toward Bobby’s office, so she just shrugs.

“Brothers,” she says to Eddie, sighing. “You have siblings?”

“Two younger sisters,” Eddies replies, “but they’re back in Texas.”

“Oh,” Maddie says, giving him a sad look. “Do you have any family here?”

“My aunt and grandmother live here,” Eddie says, “but that’s it. We only moved here about six months ago.”

“Well, I’m sure we’ll all be good friends in no time,” Maddie says. “It sounds corny, but it really is like a family here. If you let it be.”

“Literally, in your case,” Eddie says, laughing as he sees all six foot plus of Buck bounding back towards them.

“Don’t let his size fool you,” Maddie says, “he’s just a giant golden retriever.”

“You know,” Eddie says, “I’m getting that.”

“There’s some maintenance issues with the room we had them in,” Buck says, jumping back into the conversation, so you just need to have Ravi swap out the cards and you can bring them to 310.”

“310?” Maddie asks, looking confused, “are you sure?”

“Cap’s orders,” Buck confirms, before turning to Eddie. “I can bring your bags ahead of you if you want and leave them right outside the door.”

Eddie hesitates, but Buck looks so eager that he finds himself agreeing.

“Sure,” he says, transferring the handles over to Buck. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” he says, heading off towards the elevator with a friendly grin.

After another moment, Maddie just shakes her head and goes to find Ravi so he can swap out the cards, leaving Eddie confused but amused.

It’s not until Eddie really takes a look around the room Maddie had dropped them off in that he realizes what Buck had been up to. When Bobby had hired him, he’d explained that the employees who live on premises have a block of rooms on the second floor, and the rooms were simple but comfortable. Eddie had been more than grateful. But now, looking around the spacious suite with a king bed in the main room as well as a queen bed sectioned off in a separate bedroom, he’s almost certain this was not the room that was originally intended for them.

His thoughts are confirmed when he notes the wide path of clear space en route to the bathroom, which holds both a roll in shower and accessible bathtub with a shower seat and grip-bars along the walls.

“Buck,” he says to himself, eyes stinging unexpectedly at the kindness.

“This is so cool!” Chris says as he wobbles around inspecting the place.

“Yeah, bud,” Eddie agrees, taking a deep breath to steady himself, “it really is.”

His first few months of work go smoothly, to Eddie’s surprise. He plays a lot of Rat Pack and jazz classics, and Maddie croons them all with ease, occasionally sitting atop the piano if she’s feeling particularly dramatic. Eddie studiously avoids looking too long at her admittedly goddess-like figure, both because she’s his friend now and in a serious relationship, and because Eddie is quickly realizing that she’s not the Buckley that’s constantly on his mind.

Chris has quickly made himself the most popular little guy around, befriending employees and guests without discrimination and charming them all, but none more than Buck. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone besides himself fall so swiftly in love with his son than Buck has. It’s honestly so damn cute that Eddie nearly contemplates jumping off the roof to escape the mushy feeling in his chest when he thinks about it.

Buck has taken to hanging out with Chris on the weekends when Eddie works until the lounge closes after midnight, and Eddie more often than not finds them cuddled up and passed out, with an open book sprawled out on Buck’s chest next to Chris. He stops himself every time from taking a picture, but it’s a close thing.

“Wakey wakey,” Eddie says quietly, shaking Buck slightly to rouse him.

“Time’s it?” Buck mumbles around a yawn as he wakes and blinks up at Eddie.

“Just after 1,” Eddie whispers, not wanting to disturb Chris.

“Oh,” Buck says, closing his eyes for just another moment as if he’s too comfortable to even think about moving.

“You have your own bed, Buck,” Eddie says, laughing softly.

Buck grumbles again, but does wiggle out from under the sleeping Chris and presses a kiss to his curls before getting up and following Eddie out into the main room, leaving the bedroom door open just a crack.

“Your beds are more comfortable,” Buck says as he drops down on the little hotel couch. “And my room is so far awaaaay.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Eddie says, fondly. “Your room is literally a floor below ours.”

“Semantics,” Buck says, eyes closed again as he leans back as best he can on the couch.

“And we only have better beds because you made Bobby give us a real guest room,” Eddie says after a moment, finally acknowledging the thought that’s been eating him up for months. Buck’s eyes snap open at that and he gives Eddie a sheepish look.

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Eddie says. “And for the employee disability parking spot pass,” he adds, “the walk up is a lot easier on Chris than the employee lot.”

“Hey that one was all Maddie,” Buck says, before giving him a soft smile. “But you’re welcome. I just wanted to make sure little man was comfortable, and we never seem to need all the accessible suites in use at one time, so it was the obvious thing to do.”

“I don’t think you realize how many people wouldn’t even think of something like that, Buck,” Eddie says, moving to sit next to Buck on the couch, their knees just a few inches apart. “You’re a good guy.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck says, flushing with embarrassment. “You’re like my best friend or whatever now,” he says, “gotta make sure you wanna stick around.”

Eddie laughs, giving Buck an incredulous look, as if he’d walk away from the best situation he’s ever fallen into.

“You’re stuck with me now, Buckley,” he says, yawning around the words. “Now you can sleep on this tiny couch if you want, but I’m going to bed. If you don’t want a stiff neck for a week, you should probably go to your own room.”

Buck groans, but nods his head. “Carry me?” he asks, giving Eddie a cheeky grin.

Eddie looks down at all nearly 200 pounds of lean muscle and height of Buck’s and raises an eyebrow.

“All the way to your room?” he laughs, “not likely.”

“You calling me fat, Diaz?” Buck asks, huffing.

“Only that head of yours,” Eddie says, smacking Buck’s head lightly in emphasis. “Go to bed, pendejo.”

“Heey,” Buck whines as he stands up sleepily, “I know what that one means.”

“Go home before I do carry you out,” Eddie says as he also stands, still grinning.

“You wouldn’t make it more than ten feet,” Buck retorts, stretching out his sore shoulders in a way that raises his tshirt just enough to give Eddie a glimpse of the softly muscled abs beneath it.

Eddie gulps and looks away quickly. Buck is his wonderful and kind friend who he doesn’t want to make uncomfortable by leering at. He notes with internal panic that the very big and very comfortable bed is definitely less than ten feet from where they are standing right now.

Eddie laughs awkwardly before holding up his hands in defeat.

“You’re right,” he says, punching Buck lightly on the shoulder. “So take yourself back to your room, He-Man.”

Buck cackles at that and heads for the door, giving Eddie one last look as he opens the door.

“See ya tomorrow, Eds,” he says, clicking the door shut softly behind him.

Eddie lays awake a long time after that, the image of Buck’s sleepy blue eyes keeping him from sleep until exhaustion blessedly takes over.

When Buck finds him one night at an empty table at the restaurant, researching and struggling to find a school for Chris that can handle his needs but that he can also afford, he wordlessly grabs Eddie’s phone and adds a number to his contacts.

“That’s Carla,” he explains. “She kinda worked for an ex of mine when her mom was dying. She can find anything and cut through any red tape, she’s amazing.”

“I can’t just call a random woman and ask her to help me deal with VA benefits and my medically complex child,” Eddie says, too shocked to be anything but honest.

“Of course you can,” Buck says, easily. “I’ll text her now so that she’s not surprised. She’s an angel, really.”

“Takes one to know one,” Eddie says, before he can help himself. “You’re too fucking good to us, Buck.”

“Well,” Buck teases, “some have described my curls as cherubic. But shut up, nothing is too good for you.”

“Oh my god,” they hear, and both look up to see Chim and Hen passing by on the way to the kitchen, heads leaned together in what looks like feverish gossip.

“What’s up with them?” Eddie asks, looking after them in confusion.

Buck just shrugs and gives Eddie a grin.

“No idea. But tomorrow you call Carla, and we’ll get Chris whatever he needs, ok?”

Eddie nods, throat tight, and wills himself not to cry.

“Good man,” Buck says, hopping up from the table. “I have to go fix the tv remote for Mrs. Reynolds on the fifth floor again. Not sure what’s happening with these batteries, they keep going missing.”

“She’s the 60 year old with the leopard print, right?” Eddie asks, laughing.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, “so?”

Eddie shakes his head at his beautifully naïve friend.

“Man, she’s throwing them away so you keep fixing it for her,” he says, “she’s trying to get in your pants.”

“No!” Buck says, eyes wide, “she’s my mom’s age!”

“She’s wandering the desert and you’re a tall drink of water, my friend,” Eddie says, snickering at Buck’s horrified look.

“You’re a terrible person and I hope you choke on the awful gin and tonics you like!” Buck hisses as he walks away.

“Love you too!” Eddie calls out after him, still snickering.

It’s not until many minutes later that he realizes what he’s said, and hopes to any power out there that Buck in his faux-fury hadn’t heard him.

“So,” Buck says late that night, as Eddie lets him in after his quiet knock. “Is Chris asleep?” he asks, looking towards the open bedroom door.

“Chris is staying with Tia Pepa this weekend,” Eddie says, watching as Buck closes and locks the door before turning back to face Eddie.

“Oh,” Buck says, before taking and releasing a deep breath and giving Eddie a nervous grin. “That makes this a little easier then.”

“Makes what..” Eddie asks, before he’s cut off by Buck’s lips on his, his arms snaking around Eddie’s waist and tugging him in.

For a brief terrifying moment, Eddie is frozen in place, entire body stiff as a board. But then Buck pulls away just long enough to press a kiss onto Eddie’s cheek and whisper lowly to him.

“It’s just me,” he says, “it’s ok if you don’t want me, but I had to try.” He brushes his cheek against Eddie’s as he moves to pull away and Eddie snaps out of his frozen state all at once.

“I’ve wanted you since the moment you shook my hand,” Eddie confesses, reaching out to grab Buck’s soft sleep tee in both hands. “I didn’t think I was allowed to have you.”

“Fucking try and get rid of me, Edmundo,” Buck says, leaning down and kissing the scowl at the name off of Eddie’s face before pulling back with a wide grin.

“Never,” Eddie says. “Never ever.” He pauses just long enough to give Buck a little smirk. “Unless you’re terrible in bed.”

“Oh,” Buck says, eyes wide with devious delight, “challenge accepted.”

Turns out, the distance to the bed feels even shorter when Buck lifts him up and practically throws him onto it before following him down.

Suffice to say, Eddie doesn’t mind even one little bit.

Late into the night, when they’re curled around each other in the darkness, Buck grabs one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses a kiss to the palm of it before tugging it to rest against his own chest.

“Love you, too, by the way,” he says. “And I’m not waiting until you’re walking away to tell you.”

“Not my finest moment,” Eddie admits, leaning in so he can press their foreheads together briefly and nudge Buck’s nose with his own before settling back onto his pillow. “But hey, it all worked out.”

“No arguments there,” Buck agrees, yawning again as they are pulled deeper into the alluring peace of sleep. “No arguments at all.”

The End

#buddie #buddie fic #buck x eddie #evan buckley x eddie diaz #911 fic

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