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#Though I will happily accept men staying away from me in place of getting sexually harassed and groped
xcaroldanversx · 3 years
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I am also hoping it's Jessica, and we do know Secret Invasion is meant to lead into a film, so who knows. As for the title change to "The Marvels" I find it more likely to be the result of Brie Larson's push for more female leads rather than some obtuse punishment of her. Kevin Feige still confidently introduced it to the world as "Captain Marvel 2" and despite what a very vocal minority would have you believe, she has enough mass appeal that she's headlining car commercials ffs.
She has enough mass appeal for winning an Oscar. The issue is in the fandom itself, the loudest voices are negative against Brie (look at CM rotten tomatoes score which was review bombed before the film even came out. It has a lower audience score than iron man 3 or thor 2 which were pretty yikes). I find you can’t post anything on Carol on mainstream sites without fanboys flocking to chime in “well I hate her because” like did I fucking ask lmao.
But the best lead for this change is carol because Brie has been vocal about representation, particularly around WoC (let’s not forget why she’s so hated. All because she said a wrinkle in time wasn’t made for white male reviewers, but with young black girls in mind).
I’m dying for Jessica drew and if she appeared in Carol’s movie?? Iconic. It’s the only way I’d accept her introduction aside from her own solo film (which is what she deserves: a grand entrance)
I have a lot of fears but also high hopes for the movie. I mean no matter what I’ll still stan. But I guess we’ll find out come November 2022 👀
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folkloreguk · 3 years
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💌🧸 Brother's Best Friend
A/N: Got this request a while ago and now I'm wondering why I've never written this trope before bc this was so fun??? Lmk how you liked it! x
genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, size/strength kink??, choking, dom!bias (it’s kinda playful tho), brother's best friend!au, sneaking around, play fighting, lowkey getting caught but not directly?
words: ~ 4.1 k
disclaimer: I don’t mean for the age gap to be gigantic…I’m talking about anything from 1-2 years maximum tbh!!! Anything else would be weird and I’m not about that! They’re also both obviously consenting adults!
[H/N means 'his (bias) name']
In youreyes, your first meeting had been a disaster. The new spider man movie had been released only days ago, and you were adamant on seeing it. And to your luck, your older brother and his best friend had already made plans to watch it together. As a little sister, you were treated like the baby of the family, and it didn’t matter that you were far from being an infant anymore. So naturally, your brother had been condemned by your parents to bring you along. He declared his distaste in your presence by attempting to ignore you, but you were used to that. Just like you were aware of his bad moods, you knew he could change within minutes and magically turn into the sweetest, most caring big brother you could wish for.
Whatever. You didn’t need his approval to enjoy the trip to the movie theater, you told yourself. Had it not been for his best friend, who you hadn’t seen in ages. H/N and you had never properly spoken before, and the last time you saw him he had been an awkward, prepubescent boy who had appeared at your door to pick up your brother for a playdate. There was no trace of immaturity now. Instead, it was you who had morphed into an awkward, shy mess at the sight of him.
His ‘hello’ had a warm and deep melody to it which swooped you up in his aura so suddenly, you had no time to prepare. Had his smile always been this stupidly charming? Hell, it was so bright, you had to meticulously inspect the ground every time he sent a grin your way. When before you hadn’t felt guilty for being a bother, you now sure did. What impression would you leave, trailing behind the older boys like a lost puppy? What would he take you for? The annoying little sister who didn’t have friends of her own? The mood-killer, who wouldn’t understand any of the boys’ inside jokes? The anti-social, weird girl who was obsessed with fictional men, like people loved to belittle teenage girls with normal interests?
As things turned out, his initial opinion of you was quite the opposite. If only you could have spied into his brain, it would have saved you a landslide of worry. Although your brother took up all of H/N’s attention before the movie started, he noticed you a good amount. To be precise, you blew him away at first sight. Your cute laugh won him over in a matter of seconds and he liked that your merch sweater could have been stolen straight out of his own closet. He didn’t want to feel too smug, but the way you diverted your eyes away from him whenever he looked in your direction only boosted his confidence further.
Your brother might have warned him. Stay away from her. She’s off limits for you. But not a thousand vicious, older brothers could have kept him from trying to get to you. It was up to you, after all, whether you wanted him around or not, and not to your brother. From that day on, H/N didn’t skip out on a chance to see you, even if it meant merely an exchange of a few words, or a simple greeting. And to his luck, you turned out to be equally as enraptured by him.
There was something about the untouchable, the forbidden, that attracted him to you even more. Plus, you were simply too precious to forget about. One morning, you dropped off a beanie at his place, which he had left at your house after meeting with your big brother the previous day. When he had asked if he could drive you to school as a thank you, you happily accepted. You had marked that day as the first day of your new life. First, it was harmless flirting. To be honest, you were under the impression he was merely messing with you. Because you were the cute little sister of his best friend. Because you would turn into an awkward shell of a person who had lost all ability to articulate, and your cheeks would burn as if they were on fire, whenever he charmed you.
But the flirting slowly reached newer levels, and before you knew it you were discussing your sexual fantasies over text messages and giving him bedroom eyes as you opened the front door for him. “H/N’s here!” you would then shout to your big brother. Then you would watch the two boys walk off to your brother’s room, pondering why life had to be this way for you. It wasn’t fair. Siblings were supposed to share, right? Why did you have to wait your turn until after midnight, when no one would notice, to spend time with H/N?
But to H/N, the sneaking around in the middle of the night and the secret messages you sent to each other, it all added to the excitement. Surely, there were days on which he wished he could just break the truth to your brother. The impact it could have on their friendship was enough intimidation for him to refrain, though. Things were better off this way, for now.
Today was no exception to your usual lies. When your brother asked if you would go out with him to do some shopping, you had played the victim and feigned a stomachache. Your parents wouldn’t be home all weekend. You’d have been stupid to waste a perfect opportunity like that. Who knew when you could have H/N in your bed the next time? Normally, you were restricted to his car, or to his bed in the dark of night. Yes, those places had something enticing at first glance. But the backseat of a car was only enjoyable for so many clandestine meetings. So today you notified him of your golden opportunity before your brother had even walked out the door.
The moment H/N texted you that he was outside your home, you opened the front door and dragged him to your room.
“Are you in control today, little one?” he asked, closing the bedroom door after you.
“Why are you asking that?” you replied, not wanting to talk at all but rather do so much more productive things.
“I don’t know…perhaps because you haven’t let me say a word since I came through the door,” he said.
“Right. Maybe I’m planning on tying you up, blindfolding you, and torturing you with ice and wax,” you joked in a casual tone, despite not usually requesting such graphic ideas.
“I don’t know if I’d let you do that,” he grinned with raised eyebrows. “Besides, I know you’d rather be at the receiving end of that. It’s a sweet idea, though. If we had some more time…”
“Think you could get away from me if I tied you up?” you said, but he was towering over you with the calmness of a king who knew he reigned over the situation.
“We both know I’m stronger than you, doll,” he said. You didn’t like it when boys called you weak. But you’d let it slide, knowing he was only joking and would never underestimate you outside of the bedroom. He put his lips right up to yours, so you felt his breath on them. His fingers came up to cup your face, but then slowly inched to your neck. When they closed around your neck, putting the slightest amount of pressure on your skin, you whimpered quietly.
“Need reminding?” he asked. As much pent-up frustration you had, and as much as your stomach was flipping upside down from how badly you needed him, you just had to play with him. You knew it would make for more fun.
“I think- “ you started, with a grin. Then you grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pushed him backwards, until he was stumbling. Although caught off guard, he was quick to pull you along with him as he fell onto your bed. You landed on top of him with a small squeal.
“Go on, let’s see who can throw the other off the bed first,” he teased with a superiority that only spurred you on. Then again, you would always be in the mood for the oldest childhood game you had ever known. Only now it wasn’t your brother, but his best friend you were playing against. It added a layer of excitement, and after only seconds, giggles had overtaken you as you struggled in his grip.
“No tickling is allowed,” you said. He nodded obediently with a smirk that told you he might not abide by your rules.
At first, you had attempted to hold him down by his arms. But your legs tangled, and he pushed his chest up against yours, like he was about to flip you over. Your plan seemed to be working only momentarily. You groaned a little as he grabbed your wrists swiftly and held his stance against your attempt to pull his upper body to the side.
“Cute,” he said. That’s when you realized, he was barely struggling, barely trying, even. While you were giving your most, he smirked like he was watching a kitten trying to fight a lion. It was child’s play to him, keeping you in check. Literally. With an annoying expression of amusement on his face, he let you have the upper hand for a while. Then, as if you had never had an ounce of advantage, he turned it around and pulled you into him. His eyes suggested he might just send you tumbling down onto the floor any moment now. Nonetheless, you weren’t going to give up so easily. Taking your chances, you let go of his arms and moved sideways, so you could have your go at pushing him towards the edge of the mattress.
“I don’t think so,” he said. Suddenly, he bear-hugged your body and rolled you both over. Before you could protest or defend yourself, your arm was dangling off the side of your bed and if you had moved a tiny bit further, you would have slid off the bedsheets and right onto your carpet. It was his turn to straddle you now. As if his actions hadn’t been enough declarations of his strength, he pinned your wrists to the bed above your head and gave you a challenging smirk.
“I was going to let you win, doll. But you weren’t trying hard enough,” he said. “What are you going to do about it?”
What were you going to do? He had you completely immobilized. “Just let it go, then. We get it, you’re super strong and super big and the coolest,” you said.
He seemed to take an instant liking to your declaration. “Say it again. This time minus the eye-rolling, sugar.”
“You’re stronger than me,” you said, trying to avoid the laughter that was threatening to come out. Could he read in your gaze how badly you wanted him to kiss you already? If he could, he wasn’t acting on it. Instead, he bent to the crook of your neck and spoke.
“Does it turn you on that I can overpower you?” his breath fanned your ear and you had to close your eyes to control yourself.
“Yes. Because I trust you,” you answered truthfully. The corner of his lips curled into a cocky grin.
“You know what? I think I’d rather you stay in bed with me instead of throwing you on the floor. There’s so many things we can do up here, isn’t that right, little one?” His lips brushed over your cheek and then over your lips as he spoke. The nickname had always made you weak in the knees and he knew it. When he finally enveloped your lips in a kiss, you swore you could feel an electric spark jump between the two of you. The mellowness of it turned into hunger rapidly, and as soon as his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, you whimpered like you hadn’t seen him in a year.
“Needy, are we?” he asked, running his hand up your sides and underneath your shirt. He could say that again. “Let’s get these off, then.”
The seconds in which you pulled off your clothes and couldn’t hang on his lips and feel his skin on your body should have been considered a form of torture in itself. Then, time always went by so much slower than usually.
When you had both shed off your clothes, he climbed back on top of you. Instead of straddling your hips he was now resting between your legs. There was nothing separating you from him, and it was apparent not only through the body heat that radiated off him. He reached down and whilst peppering kisses on your chest, slid his fingers through your slick arousal that was pooling in your core.
“You’re so wet,” he said in surprise, but couldn’t hide his approval and self-confidence in his voice.
“I know,” you said, rolling your eyes but simultaneously fighting the urge to moan at the smallest of touches he was teasing your with. “I’m so horny. Can’t we skip foreplay?”
“Poor doll,” he said. “I should’ve come over earlier, huh?”
“You know that wasn’t possible,” you said. With a desperate look, you pleaded him silently.
“I wanna taste you,” he said, but your put your hand on his cheek softly.
“Maybe later?” you said. “Please, I need to have you inside of me. Now.”
“You’re extra cute when you’re this needy,” he smiled. “Are there still condoms in your nightstand?”
You nodded and had never moved so fast to open a drawer in your life. Pretending to have any patience left, you waited for him to roll on the rubber.
“I love the way you look at me,” he said. “When you’re waiting for me. Could watch you for hours.”
“God, I hope you won’t. Come here, please?” you replied, making him chuckle. He lined himself up with your core, but then made no inclination to move ahead. His dark eyes and little head tilt told you everything.
“Don’t mess with me anymore,” you whined, reaching for the back of his neck to pull him closer. “Do it. H/N.”
“Beg for it.” His words twisted something in the pit of your stomach. Although you were burning with hunger, you could never say no to him. Then again, you were curious to see what would happen if you did.
“What if I don’t? Don’t you want to fuck me as much as I want it?” you challenged him. Something glinted in his eyes, and you knew you shouldn’t have even brought it up.
“I can always do this,” he said, and you followed his eyes down his body and to where he had wrapped his hand around his cock. Slowly, he jerked himself off, and you weren’t sure he was biting his lip because of the feeling or to discompose you. His small sigh should’ve been caused by you. This wasn’t what you had wanted. His tip was right by your slit. He could’ve pushed his length in so easily, and yet he wasn’t. Debating what to say, you kept your eyes trained on his hard member that looked so delicious in his hands. His deep groans rang in your ears. It didn’t take long for you to cave.
“Fuck. That should be me around you,” you said. “That should be my pussy you’re fucking and not your hands. Please.”
“Isn’t that right?” he said.
“Yes. Please, fuck me. I would feel so much better than your hands, and you know it. Please,” you whined. “I need you right now H/N. Please.”
You added another ‘please’ – for good measure – because the way his tongue darted out and licked his smirking lips could make you say anything if it would get him to fuck you.
“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” he said. “Think you can take me?”
“Yes, yes-, I can! Please, fuck me,” you said in a waterfall of words, and he chuckled handsomely.
“Good girl,” he said, running a gentle hand over your head. “If it’s too much you let me know.”
“As always.”
The tip of his cock gently pushed into your core, making you hold your breath as he entered you slowly. It caused you to feel every inch with every second. Your brain felt fuzzy, and you sighed gratefully at the relief.
“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he moaned. The carefulness in his thrusts paired with his moon eyes at you only remained that way for a few seconds. Then, he straightened up and grabbed your hips to drag you in closer. You moaned helplessly when he almost pulled out completely, so slowly it almost made you crazy, only to slam his length into you until his tip brushed against the deepest spot inside of you. It was an action he repeated over and over, until you were reduced to a puddle of desperate whimpers, and you clasped the bedsheets in your hands tightly.
“You like it this way, little one?” he asked. He was apparently finding enjoyment in your reaction. How you could barely keep your eyes open, and when you did, your eyeballs threatened to roll to the back of your head. How your fingers clenched around the closest plushie, and you cradled it against your chest in bliss.
“Yes- fuck,” you said. “Feels so good.”
Of course, right as you said this, he had to change things up. His thrusts turned lazy and messy as he leaned backwards slightly. With an equally lazy demeanor, his thumb flicked over your clit, rubbing circles on it.
“Let me hear you. Say my name,” he said, and you quietly moaned his name. You adored the way it sounded, voiced like this, with barely more than a breath underneath your soft tone. Now and then, his cock slipped out of you, making you clench around nothing and furthermore had you going completely out of your mind. When he would push himself into your opening again, it felt as if it was the first time he was entering you today. Except you felt it repeatedly, each time as incredible as the previous. Your mouth hung open, rendered speechless except for the little moans and whimpers sounding from your throat. There was a familiar knot beginning to form in your stomach, tying firmer with each passing minute.
As if he could read your mind, he decided then he was done with his sweet torture of teasing you to an orgasm. You couldn’t be mad at him, though, because what he had planned was just as perfect, if not better. His hands wandered to their original place on your sides, and he began to snap his hips into yours at a faster pace. A small cry of surprise left your lips, while he only smirked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. Impulsively, you lifted your legs a little, intensifying the feeling of his member roughly dragging through your velvet walls.
“H/N, I’m so close,” you whimpered.
“Me too,” he replied, not slowing down for a second.
His broad frame towering over your body was a sight you would never get enough of and his gazes at you were hot enough that they could have stopped your heart in its tracks. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead and there was a thin sheet of sweat on his neck. It all just made him more breathtaking to you. The slight pain from his nails digging into the skin on your waist was staggering, and you could barely wait to see the masterpiece of marks he would leave tonight.
You were a moaning mess, flying on cloud nine and simultaneously overwhelmed by his treatment of you. It clouded your mind at took over your whole body like you were made for him to fuck you. His length filled up your tight hole and he did it with such force that your whole body rocked into your mattress in a steady, fast-paced rhythm. He let go of your waist then and supported himself on his arm by the side of your head. When his other hand went to your neck you shuddered in anticipation.
“You should see yourself with my hand around your throat,” he said. “So pretty, little one.”
“We can do it in front of a mirror sometime- ,” you suggested, but were cut off at the end of the sentence as his fingers tightened on your neck. Instantly, the effect of it hit you. The lack of oxygen made your head swim in a sea of pleasure and the unrelenting desire to come. Through fluttering eyelids, you peeked up at him. The way he licked his lips and then clenched his jaw, the gorgeous shape of his collarbones and shoulders – you sometimes wondered if he was even real. Every so often he loosened his grip on you. When he did, you took gulps of air and then instantly whined for him to choke you again.
“Let go for me,” he said. “Show me your pretty face when I make you come. I’m fucking you well, aren’t I?”
You nodded as well as you could when he was gripping your throat and you couldn’t breathe properly at the moment. It didn’t matter you couldn’t talk. He was probably not expecting you to answer, either way. In a pleasure-induced trance, you closed your eyes and let it happen, like he had asked it from you. Your hazy consciousness barely registered that he was reaching his high with you. Too overcome were you, with your thighs trembling uncontrollably and your back arching off the mattress. He had let go of your neck and was riding out his own orgasm with sloppy thrusts that only sent you into another frenzy and had you whimpering his name softly. When he had finished too, he slowed down and pulled you into a gentle kiss, rubbing his nose against yours sweetly.
“That was amazing,” he said, and with a blissful hum you nodded. Your lips changed into a pout when he rolled off you and got up. You were tired of sending him back home so quickly. As he discarded the condom in the bin, you put on your most enchanting eyes, so he would have no other choice.
“Stay a little longer, please,” you asked. You knew he wanted to, as well. So although he was aware that your brother could return at any moment, he tumbled back into bed with you.
“Just for a little while,” he said. “Mhm…you’re so perfect to cuddle, baby.” His embrace was warm and his scent comforting, as he hummed a lovely melody. The soft touch of his fingers running through your hair lulled you right into a light sleep. You were awoken rather abruptly, and with half a heart attack.
“Hey Y/N, have you seen my charger- “ your brother’s voice suddenly broke through the silence and you wondered if you would have to pack up and leave the country after this sort of embarrassment.
“It’s not what it looks like,” you said, knowing well enough it was the dumbest thing you could have said. But who could blame you? You had only woken up two seconds ago.
“Really?” your brother asked. “Because I hear H/N sneak into our house so often lately, I’m starting to wonder if his parents threw him out.”
His tone was surprisingly calm.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” H/N said to your brother. “I thought you’d hate me and that we’d be over as friends.”
“I know I told you once to leave Y/N alone. But now…I guess it’s cool. She’s been in a great mood lately, and if that’s thanks to you, I think I can approve of you two. Although I’m not looking forward to being a third wheel, I think I can get used to it if I try hard enough,” your brother said. You couldn’t believe your ears, and involuntarily smiled like a fool. No more hiding. No more secrets.
“I stole your charger. I’m sorry,” you said then, making your brother roll his eyes. “It’s by the sofa in the living room.”
“Great. I needed a reason to leave anyway,” your brother said. “I might approve of you, but this situation is still too awkward. I’ll see you tomorrow, then, H/N?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” the boy in your bed said.
“You’ll see me too!” you added as a joke, as your brother already walked away from the door.
“Unfortunately I will!” your brother shouted, with the unnerving tone only a big brother could possibly muster.
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bwbatta · 3 years
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The one where you get together (1)
Abstract: Y/N and Sirius have been friends since they first met on the Hogwarts Express, so when they do get together, they decide not to tell their friends straight away. (Friends AU)
Pairing: Sirius Black x Lupin sister!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, talking about sexual content
Word Count: 3.5K
A/N: To celebrate reaching 500 followers, I'm dropping another mini series as a thank you to everyone who has shared and supported my work! Add yourself to my taglist here 
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Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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You could still vividly remember the first time you met Sirius Black.
Boarding the train to Hogwarts the first time, you managed to find a compartment with your brother, Remus, before it was descended upon by two rowdy boys with large grins.
James Potter and Sirius Black had, with no hesitation, introduced themselves to you and you quickly became friends, especially when you pulled your money together and bought a various selection of chocolates from the trolley. When the sorting hat placed all of you in Gryffindor, it only reaffirmed your friendship.
It wasn't just the four of you in your little group though, the boys were placed in a dormitory with another boy, Peter, and you shared a dorm with two other girls who also became fierce friends of yours; Lily Evans and Marlene McKinnon.
Of course, growing up together through Hogwarts had it's arguments and fall outs, though somehow you always seemed to remain friends.
It wasn't until your seventh, and final year of Hogwarts did the surprising pair of Lily and James get together which solidified your friendship group even further. Between Sirius and you, the bet you had made in your fourth year regarding when the pair would get together, finally came to an end where you had happily took your winnings with a smile and paid for a bottle of Firewhiskey to celebrate.
After graduating, you ended up moving in with Marlene, finding a perfect two bedroom flat for you to share, close to Diagon Alley. The boys had taken a page from your book with Sirius using some of his inheritance from his great uncle and buying a flat directly across the Leaky Cauldron.
Whilst he had invited Peter to also live with him and Remus, the boy politely refused with the intention to stay with his parents for a while.
James however, had asked Lily to move in with him almost the second they graduated and the pair had moved to a little cottage in Godric’s Hollow. It wasn’t long afterwards that James had proposed to Lily which led to the current series of events.
About an hour before, you and Marlene had walked down the aisle in the gardens of Potter Manor in your bridesmaids dresses, while Lily had donned a white dress and followed you. Standing opposite your brother and Sirius, the latter caught your eye when your friends said their wedding vows.
With a wink, Sirius had your attention and you weren't exactly sure what it was that felt different, but something definitely did.
As the reception started, you watched Lily and James take some of their wedding photos together. The smile on your face was something you couldn't help as Remus appeared at your side, a similar expression on his own face.
"Remember when Lily hexed James so hard he vomited out of his nose because he proposed to her?"
"I'm pretty sure it made him like her even more to be honest, James is weird like that." You snickered, accepting the drink from your brother. "Who would've thought we'd be here not even four years later?"
"Tell me about it. If you plan on getting married anytime soon though, please give me some warning." Remus joked, nudging his shoulder against yours.
"I think I need to actually date someone before I marry them, but thanks for being so optimistic about my dating life." You grinned at him before seeing Sirius making his way over to the two of you.
"Well well, if it isn't the Lupin twins." Sirius laid an arm over both your shoulders. "How long do you reckon it'll be before Lily's creepy uncle makes a move on Marlene?"
"At least after two more drinks." Remus chuckled. "Which reminds me, I promised I'd save her from any men tonight who wanted to dance with her that, and I quote, looked like they had to use a stamina charm in bed."
"Good luck with that." You snickered, waving your brother off as he disappeared in the direction of the blonde.
Sirius didn't say anything else as he took a seat at one of the tables and pulled you down into his lap. It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to hug or cuddle, having done so numerous times in the Gryffindor common room, much to Remus' annoyance. This only really resulted in Sirius being more affectionate.
Being twins, the two of you were naturally closer than normal siblings which resulted in Remus being protective over you since the only blood family you both had left was each other. Your parents, especially your father, had grown fearsome and disgusted at what Remus was, despite it not being his fault when Greyback bit him all those years ago. Your father began to resent you after you constantly took Remus' side and played his constant advocate.
"Hey, what're you thinking about?" Sirius nudged you, grabbing your attention. His expression was unreadable as he watched you watch Lily and James interact with each other.
"I don't know, it's nothing." Sirius nudged you again, looking for a proper answer. "I look at them and I just wonder if I'll ever have that, you know? Someone who looks at you like you're their whole world."
Sirius didn't say anything at first, but pulled you closer. He wouldn't admit it but he often had the same thought cross his mind.
"You'll find them."
"Are they fucking hiding from me?!"
"If they've already met you, then probably."
Smacking his chest, you couldn't help the contagious laughter that bubbled from you, echoing that from the wizard.
"Being serious though," Sirius grinned at the pun he just made, "who wouldn't want you?"
You smiled at him warmly, not knowing what to say. It wasn't often that Sirius was, well serious. The boy loved a joke, but he also loved his friends and knew exactly what to say to them to cheer them up, especially you.
"Thanks, Siri."
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"Hey, James and Lily are about to head off for their honeymoon." Remus said, knocking on Sirius' bedroom door at Potter Manor, stepping inside to see Sirius rush back out from the ensuite bathroom only in his shirt and boxers. "What happened to you? You disappeared from the reception."
"Uh, dropped cake down myself, had to come and change." Sirius told him quickly.
"You do realise you're a wizard right? You could've just vanished the mess?"
"Ah yeah, of course, how stupid, sure could've. Anyway, I just need to put on some clean trousers and I'll be right down."
Remus frowned. Something was off but he couldn't work out what it was. Putting it down to Sirius drinking too much, he waved the man off, exiting the room.
"Alright well, hurry down, James was asking for you."
Remus exited the room and Sirius quickly closed the door behind him. Turning back to the bathroom, he watched as you opened the door with a tentative expression, trying to zip your dress back up but failing.
"Do you think he knew I was here?"
"Don't think so, here, turn around, I'll do it." Sirius turned you around, quickly zipping up your dress before resting his hands on your waist. "So, we haven't done that before."
"That is correct."
It was slightly awkward between the two of you, why was it awkward? Oh, maybe because you were both fucking like rabbits not even moments before your brother knocked on the door. It had never been awkward between you before though and you didn't like it.
"Why is it so awkward?" Sirius chuckled as you spun around before him.
"Right! It's like I don't know what to say!"
"We're just two friends who've had sex one time, there doesn't have to be anything awkward about that!"
"Exactly, it doesn't have to be a big deal, it was a one time thing, we can just go back to the party and no one will know!"
"Yes, good plan, lets go!" Turning towards the door, Sirius started towards it with a new determination, completely forgetting one issue.
"Sirius?" He paused, looking back at you, "maybe you should put on some trousers before we go down though."
"Good idea."
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Waving James and Lily off, you stood alongside the rest of your friends as Marlene appeared, pulling you towards her by your waist.
"Ugh, please tell me we're going to get some good booze and continue to get fucked up at ours?"
"Is that an open invite?" Remus asked with a grin, "Think I spied an extra bottle of Firewhiskey knocking about near the top table."
"100%," Marlene grinned at him, "after all, it's the least I could do after you saved me from so many creeps tonight. I will thank you in the form of hosting a small afterparty with the inner circle. Right, Y/N?"
"I'm up for it, I'll go see if I can grab that extra bottle you mentioned."
Taking off towards the top table, your eyes scanned the tables one by one until you felt a presence behind you. Already knowing who it was, you didn't bother looking back at them.
"I've got a fresh bottle stashed under my bed upstairs if we wanna grab that one?" Sirius said lowly in your ear.
"That sounds like a plan," you said slowly, "though I thought we said it was only a one time thing?"
"Weddings don't count, right? I swear that's a rule somewhere."
"...How long do you think we can be before the others get suspicious?"
"10 minutes?"
"Sounds good, lets go."
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The pair of you said nothing more the entire night on the matter and ended up just having a good time with your friends. The boys ended up sleeping on your sofas, not trusting themselves to apparate safely considering the amount they each had to drink.
It wasn't until mid morning when everyone started to rouse, that you offered to make everyone a cup of tea to help with the hangovers that had started to form.
"Hey, make mine extra strong, will you?"
You laughed, turning to face Sirius.
"You need the caffeine that much?"
"That answer is a strong yes."
Pouring the boiling water into the mugs, you passed Sirius' over to him as he smiled at you in thanks.
"So, yesterday was something." You smiled, taking a sip of your own drink.
"Yeah... something stupid, right?"
"Yeah, totally stupid." There was a brief silence between you as you weren't exactly sure what to say next. "Look as much as I enjoyed it, I don't want us to become awkward or ruin our friendship or anything because of it."
"Good, because I was going to say the same thing." Sirius nodded, leaning against the kitchen counter top. "As good as the sex was, and trust me it was good, it's not worth making our friendship awkward or anything not knowing where we stand with the other."
"Right, yes, that makes a lot of sense." You both took another sip of tea as you listened to Marlene and Remus in the living room laugh about something. "Unless... wait no, it's nothing."
"No, what it is?" Sirius asked.
"Unless... I don't know, we keep fucking in secret and just don't tell the others?"
You stared at the tea in your cup before raising your eyes to meet Sirius' grey ones which were wide, a grin on his face.
"I guess that would work too?"
"Yeah... anyway on a totally unrelated note, Marlene's visiting her family tomorrow night at like 7."
"Noted."
"Where's my bloody tea, Y/N!" The blonde in question strode into the kitchen sluggishly. "I swear you've been in here for 4 hours making it."
"If you were a little more patient, Mar, I was just about to bring it out for you." You rolled your eyes but handed the mug over to her anyway.
"Thanks, how're you two feeling this morning?"
"Rough." Sirius grunted out as the three of you headed back into the living room. "But what's new there, really?!"
"You should really try cut back on your drinking, Pads." Remus mentioned, taking the cup of tea from you with a smile.
"You should cut back on your chocolate."
"Chocolate doesn't give you hangovers." Remus countered with a smirk causing Sirius to just roll his eyes as he sunk down into an armchair.
"Either way, I hope Lils and James are having fun." Marlene stretched out on the other sofa, placing her legs over your own. "I know James will be with the things Y/N and I packed as a surprise in Lily's bags."
You snorted into your cup as you remembered the countless lacy items you'd snuck into Lily's normally conservative wardrobe.
"Well, James might be happy about what you packed, but he certainly won't be happy with what we packed." Sirius snickered as Remus held back a laugh.
"What did you do?!"
"We might've exchanged his entire bag of clothes for an entire bag of Cornish Pixies." Sirius grinned. "I'm already expecting a howler from Lily at some point in the near future."
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Sirius didn’t have to wait long for Lily’s reaction as only moments later he heard an angry shout through his two way mirror he shared with James.
As planned, Marlene visited her family the next day and no later after she flooed away, Sirius appeared at the front door of your flat. The same happened after Marlene was picked by Dumbledore for an order mission and Sirius happily flooed into your flat only moments later. You were convinced he’d bugged your flat somehow.
James and Lily returned from their honeymoon a week later, effectively surprising you as they flooed into your flat with no warning, causing you to stuff a naked Sirius into your closet. It was safe to say he wasn’t impressed after Lily insisted she make a pot of tea to ‘catch up’, and ended up staying round for several hours. 
You barely managed to hide the snicker which escaped your lips when James asked if you knew where Sirius was.
With the newly married pair being back, the two of you decided to come up with a plan as how to sneak around without the others knowing.
Somehow, it didn’t really go to plan.
Sirius insisted that you should come over and take a bath with him one night, especially as Remus was due to be out. You couldn’t help but agree to the idea, mostly because you got to spend time with your very sexy male friend who looked very good in bubbles... and also the fact his bathtub was a lot better than your own.
The bathtub in question was a massive claw-foot tub which could fit the two of you and your two roommates if you so desired. Compared against the shitty little tub Marlene and you had in your flat, it was a no brainer.
Which is why as you sat in between Sirius’ legs, your back against his chest, you couldn’t help but feel more relaxed than you had done all week. 
Sirius was leant back against the tub, his arm around your waist with a glass of Firewhiskey in his other hand. The two of you had nicked this particular bottle from James’ ‘secret stash’ which everyone knew he hid under his cloak, under the stairs. It was all too easy for the two of you to sneak in and borrow it for the time being. 
“You know, Prongs must be real blind if he can’t see how many people actually know about his hiding spots.” You snickered as you took the glass from Sirius and took a sip.
“I think it might be all the brain damage after getting hit in the head so many times.” He grinned.
“How long do you think it’ll be until he notices the actual bottle being gone? A few days?”
“Give him some credit, it’ll be at least a week.”
The two of you chuckled before you heard the fireplace roar with flames. Footsteps quickly made their way towards Sirius’ room before heading towards the bathroom.
A panicked look between the two of you was exchanged as a knock was heard on the door. 
“Pads? It’s me, I’m coming in.”
Sirius quickly took the glass of Firewhiskey back from you as you dived underwater, praying the bubbles would cover up the fact you were there. 
The door opened and James stepped in about to say something, before he stopped and observed the scene before him. Sirius was sat covered in bubbles with candles lit around him. Despite the calm expression on his face, the fact you were lying between his legs in the water had his heart racing. 
“Did you need something, Prongs?”
“Uh, yeah, have you seen the bottle of Firewhiskey which I was given as a gift for my wedding?” James asked, very obviously looking at the opened bottle on the side of the bath. 
“Didn’t even know you got given one, mate. This was from Y/N.”
“And if I ask her, will she give me the same story?”
“Positively. Anything else?”
“Yeah, you want to order some Chinese?” 
“I mean I- NO!” 
His outburst was a surprise to both James and himself after you had pinched him underwater signalling you were running out of air.
“Really? Lily’s got me on this diet and-”
“James! Get out!”
“Fine! Okay! No need to shout at me, I’ve seen you in weirder scenarios.”
James left and shut the door behind him just as soon as you jolted up, gasping for breath. 
“I’m sorry, he wouldn’t leave! He wanted to ask me if I fancied some Chinese.”
“Chinese?” You asked, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a contemplative look on your face. “I could go for some chow mein.”
“Prongs!” Taking a deep breath, you disappeared underwater again just before James appeared once more. “I’ll have a large chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, some of those prawn cracker things and the spring rolls.”
“Spring rolls? I swear only Y/N likes them.”
“Thought I’d try them out since as she’s always yapping on about them.”
“Alright, back in a bit.”
James left and shut the door again. You emerged from the water, leaning back on Sirius again as he relayed off what he’d ordered. 
“You ordered me spring rolls?!”
“Yeah, I remembered you liked them.” Sirius shrugged, wrapping his arm around your waist again. “Even if they taste like arse.”
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The group had gathered at Marlene and Y/N’s for an evening where despite Lily’s constant health kicks, she relented into ordering pizza for the group. 
“Hey, you guys will never guess what I found out today.” Marlene grinned.
“You’re secretly a guy?” Sirius snickered from the armchair, only to receive a cushion being thrown at his face by the blonde. 
“No,” Marlene scowled at him, “Alice and Frank got engaged!” 
“What?! How’d you find out?” Lily asked as she cuddled up to James in the other armchair. 
“I ran into Alice at Headquarters earlier and she showed me her ring.” Marlene leant back into the sofa as she brought her legs up to lay them over Remus’ lap. “We best be getting ready for another wedding soon.”
“I’m sure we’ll hear more at the meeting tomorrow.” James said grinning. “Who knew Longbottom had it in him?!”
“Alice certainly did.” You snickered, leaning onto Remus’ other shoulder. The comment got another round of chuckles from everyone present as Lily shot you a less than impressed look. 
“Alright, I say let’s call it a night if we have to be at the meeting early tomorrow morning.” The redhead rolled her eyes at you all before standing up and brushing her dress down. 
Everyone else seemed to follow her lead as Marlene and you stood to show everyone out. 
“Yeah, I need to sleep as much as I can with Moony’s snoring keeping me up all night.” Sirius grinned, stepping up beside you and Remus. 
What no one expected to happen was for Sirius to dip and find your lips in a kiss, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you closer, just as he had done for the last few weeks. 
The rest of the group stood with slack jaws as they took in the scene before them as they watched Sirius kiss you. Pulling away, you caught each other’s eyes as realisation set in and your own eyes went wide. 
“Marls,” Sirius shook off his slight hesitation before heading straight over to Marlene and pulling her in for a kiss of her own. “Lily.”
Stepping forward to give Lily a kiss goodbye, Sirius couldn’t help but notice the wide eyed look from both James at kissing his wife and Remus at kissing his sister. 
“Pleasure to spend time with you all.” Sirius grinned at everyone’s expressions before entering the fireplace to floo back to his own flat. 
“What the hell was that?!” Remus asked with wide eyes, securely on you. 
“Probably some leftover greeting from Lily and James’ wedding. Lils did have some french cousins, perhaps he picked it up from them?” You chuckled, trying to play down the laugh you so wanted to let out. 
“Yeah, it did feel french.” Marlene snickered. “I’m not sure if I feel happy about saying that I’ve kissed Sirius Black though.”
“Well, he can keep his lips to himself and not on my wife.” James scowled at the fireplace where Sirius had disappeared moments before. 
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Text
The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1
Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes?  A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+
Chapter 1
The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.
Today was your first day at your new job-  you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.
No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.
You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.
You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.
After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”
“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.
“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”
You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”
“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”
After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.
“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.
With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.
With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.
“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.
“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.
“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.
You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.
“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.
“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.
“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”
You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”
Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.
“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.
“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”
You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”
“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”
“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”
You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?
“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.
You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”
Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.
“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.
Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-
“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.
“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.
You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.
Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.
Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.
As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.
“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”
Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.
“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.
Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”
Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.
“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.
Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.
“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.
“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.
“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.
You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.
“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.
Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.
Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.
“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.
“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.
“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”
He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”
“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.
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drabbles-mc · 3 years
Text
Fifty Bucks
Bishop Losa x Reader
Request from the babe @masterlistforimagines: Reader and Angel made a bet that she couldn’t last without having sex with Bishop for a week so she keeps “running” away every time her and Bishop get close to having sex. In the end, she lasts a week, collects her money from Angel and Bishop then finds out and takes her to Templo and has sex with her then. Oooh but I want Bishop to literally pick the reader up and bring her into templo and also the crew to hear them going at it
Warnings: language, (unprotected) sex, dominant Bishop giving all of us life
Word Count: 3.7k
A/N: Sometimes you have to write Bishop smut at midnight on a Sunday and that’s totally valid. This was incredibly fun to write so I hope y’all enjoy it!
Bish Tag: @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered​ @louisianalady​
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“No way you could do it,” Angel laughed as he leaned back in his chair.
You scoffed, shaking your head, “I could totally do it. One week? Easy.”
He took a sip of his beer but you could still see the smirk on his face, “Alright then. What’s the bet? Twenty bucks?”
You rolled your eyes, “If I’m gonna go a whole week without having sex with my boyfriend you gotta at least make it worth my while. A hundred.”
He immediately shook his head, “No fuckin’ way.”
“If you’re so sure you’re going to win it shouldn’t matter, right?”
“Fifty,” he paused, “And no getting yourself off either.”
“Ugh. You’re the worst. But you’re about to make me fifty dollars richer so fine,” you held your hand out to shake on it.
He grasped your hand tight in his, “Oh, and you can’t tell Bish. Don’t want him taking it easy on you to help you win a bet.”
It wasn’t going to be a fun week for you, but you figured it was going to be a manageable one. You and Bishop had a healthy sex life, and you immediately started brainstorming ways to get out of sexual situations with him, which was something that you never thought that you would have to be doing. For most of the time that you’d known him, you were trying to figure out how to get in to sexual situations with him. This all felt foreign and also wrong.
Monday evening rolled around and you were in the kitchen making dinner for the two of you. You felt his chest press up against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his lips against your neck. Your legs went a little weak as you gave in slightly to his touch.
“How long ‘til it’s all ready?” he mumbled, his scruff tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.
You smiled, shaking your head, “Not too long.”
“Long enough?” his hands slid down into your shorts, his fingers pulling your panties off to the side.
Ordinarily you would have said, “Fuck it, let dinner burn and we can order in when we’re done,” but you had fifty bucks on the line. And also your pride. You spun around so that you were facing him and you repositioned his hands so they were no longer on the inside of your shorts, “Not this time. Can you grab some plates and cups from the cabinet, please?” you smiled at him.
Confusion crossed over his face for a moment but he did as you asked. You let out a quiet sigh of relief at one avoided situation. You knew how persistent he could be, though, and you had the feeling that you were in for a very long week.
You figured that Bishop assumed that you weren’t in the mood, because for the rest of the night he didn’t push it. The two of you were cuddled up on the couch after dinner and for the first time in a long time he didn’t try to get handsy with you. Part of you hoped that he would keep this up for most of the week so you wouldn’t have to try and dodge him.
Too bad you hardly ever get what you hope for. The next morning you woke up to Bishop’s fingers lightly trailing along your sides and thighs, his lips pressing against your neck. You giggled, still feeling heavy with sleep. He pulled you back against him and pressed a firm kiss onto your jaw.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
You turned so that you were facing him, forcing your eyes open all the way, “Good morning.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, one hand snaking up behind your neck to keep you pressed against him. You moaned lightly into your kiss as your hands came to rest against his chest. He attempted to pull you on top so that you were straddling him and you caught yourself right before you let him. You peeled yourself away from him, hating everything about the stupid bet that you had made with Angel.
“I gotta get ready, I have an early meeting today,” you kissed him on the lips and cupped his face for a moment, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he placed his hand over yours. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something but he stopped himself.
After work, you ran home to throw on a more comfortable set of clothes and then head over to the clubhouse. You knew that the guys would all be there, and you figured that if you were out of the house, the less likely it would be that you would end up in a sexual situation with your boyfriend. It wasn’t completely out of the question, but it definitely put the odds in your favor a little bit more.
You were sitting at the bar, scrolling absently through your phone when you felt a pair of hands press down hard on your shoulders. Angel’s laugh filled your ears, “You owe me fifty bucks yet?”
You huffed, rolling your eyes, “Not yet. Only two days in and I feel like it’s been two weeks,” you glared at him as he sat down on the stool next to you, “You’re the fucking worst by the way.”
He laughed as he took a beer off the surface of the bar, “You could just pay up now and be done with it. Go home with Bish and get your back blown out. Fine by me.”
You laughed and gave him a firm but playful shove, “No fucking way. I’m not gonna let you win this.”
“You two all good over here?” Bishop appeared, gently resting his hands on your hips.
You looked up at him with a smile, “We’re fine.”
He leaned down and gave you a quick peck on the lips, “No beating up my new secretario. I need him…for now.”
“Damn, Pres, that’s cold,” Angel chuckled. He waited for Bishop to walk away and pick up a conversation with someone else before he turned back to you, a smug grin on his face, “Not as cold as you’re gonna have to be for the next five days, though.”
“Again, I say, you’re the worst.”
Wednesday night you were in the shower, lip-syncing to your playlist and rinsing off what had been an incredibly long day. You heard the door creak as it was slowly pushed open. You smiled to yourself and stuck your head outside the curtain. Bishop was standing there, a grin plastered on his face as he watched water drip down the sides of your face. He walked over and pressed a kiss to your dripping forehead.
“Got room in there for one more?”
Your entire face got hot. You desperately wanted to say yes, but you knew that it would, most likely, lead to the two of you having sex. But you also knew that saying no was going to set off some type of alarm bell in Bishop’s head.
“I was actually just about to hop out. Water’s starting to get cold,” you hated lying but it was the only way you could think to say no without having to actually say no. If he was annoyed, he was very good at hiding it. He placed one extra kiss on the tip of your nose before leaving you to get out and dry off. You let out a sigh of relief when he shut the door behind him.
Thursday was your only day of rest because you and Bishop hardly saw each other at all. You had to leave early for work, and by the time he got home from dealing with the club, you were passed out and he was too exhausted to try and wake you. You stirred slightly when he got into bed but didn’t stay awake for long after you felt his arms wrap around your waist. Within seconds he was snoring and you happily drifted back to sleep.
Bishop walked into the bedroom on Friday night and whistled when he saw you standing in front of the mirror, checking your hair and makeup. “Where are you going,” he walked up and snaked his arms around your waist, “dressed like this?” he kissed your shoulder, “And can I go with you?”
You laughed, shaking your head, “Girl’s night, remember?” you rested your hands on top of his, “I told you about it last week. Some of my college girlfriends are in town so we’re all going out tonight,” you gave him a look through the reflection of the mirror, “No boys allowed.”
He smiled, squeezing you lightly, “What about men?”
You chuckled, “Still a no from me, Obispo. Sorry.”
“Fine. I’ll be here waiting when you get home, though,” he kissed your neck.
The contact made your whole body ache, absolutely hating that you haven’t been touched by your boyfriend in five days. “I’ll text you and keep you updated, okay?”
He nodded, “Have fun.”
It was around 2AM when you called Bishop from your friend’s hotel room, telling him that you were staying the night with them and that you would be home in the morning. He offered to come and pick you up, he offered to get you an Uber, but you told him that it’d just be easier to crash with the girls and come home in the morning. He didn’t like it but it accepted it, asking you to please text him first thing in the morning so he knew that you were alright.
You stumbled through the door early Saturday afternoon. Your hair was a mess and your head was pounding. Bishop was nowhere to be found, and his bike hadn’t been in the driveway either. You grabbed some comfy clothes to change into and made your way to the bathroom to shower. There was a note on the counter next to a bottle of aspirin and you smiled as you read it.
“Sorry I can’t be there when you get back. I’ll be home tonight. Hopefully your hangover will be done by then. I love you.”
You were sprawled out on the bed on your stomach, half asleep with the television on in the background when you heard the sound of Bishop’s boots in the hallway. You turned so that you were facing the doorway and he smiled at the sight of you. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled onto the bed. He positioned himself so that he was straddling you, situated right above your hips. He pushed up the fabric of your shirt (his shirt) and started to rub gentle circles into your back. You smiled, humming in approval as you all but melted into the mattress at his touch.
“I’m assuming from the volume of the television that your head still isn’t feeling great?” he chuckled as his hands worked their way up to your shoulders.
You smiled, “I’m alright. I’m not that old yet.”
Somewhere along the way the massage became a lot more than just a massage. For a moment you were wondering if just oral would break the bet with Angel. But you had less than twenty-four hours and you were so close to winning. You were a terrible liar so if you caved you wouldn’t be able to hide it from Angel.
Bishop had your panties pushed halfway down your legs when you pulled your lips off of his, placing a hand on his chest. His hands stilled as he looked down at you, concern all over his face when he saw your expression, “Everything okay, sweetheart?”
You nodded, “Yea. I just, you know,” you paused, trying to string together the right words to safely derail this situation, “you think you could just hold me for a little bit?”
He repositioned himself so that he was lying on his side facing you, “Of course,” he pulled you up against him, “You feeling okay? You’ve felt far away lately.”
You smiled up at him, nodding, “Yea, I’m okay. Just in a cuddly mood…is that okay?”
He laughed, nodding, “Of course. Can I still kiss you?”
You chuckled, “Of course.”
Sunday night rolled around and you all but kicked the doors in to the clubhouse. The MC was already there—Bishop had left the house a few hours earlier for Templo. The meeting had since adjourned because all of the guys were milling about the expanse of the clubhouse with the usual hang-arounds.
You went up to Angel, who was sitting with his brother at the bar. You held out your hand, “Pay up, Reyes.”
EZ looked back and forth between the two of you with confusion all over his face. Angel chuckled, “Damn, you really did it, didn’t you? No wonder Bish was so uptight in Templo tonight,” he laughed as he dug his wallet out and slapped the money into your hand.
Before you could come up with a smart remark, Bishop materialized next to you, wondering why you hadn’t come over to say hello but instead came over to Angel. Bishop was always your first stop when you arrived at the clubhouse.
“What’s going on over here?” he asked with a curious smile.
You wrapped your arm around Bishop’s waist, “Your secretario just made me fifty bucks richer. That’s what’s going on.”
“Oh? How’d that happen?”
You looked at Angel, “Go on. Tell him. I’m getting a fucking drink,” you laughed as you walked over to the bartender.
“So?” Bishop looked at Angel.
It was written all over his face that he didn’t want to tell the MC president that he had made a bet about the man’s sex life. But you hadn’t left him with much of a choice. Angel chuckled nervously and shrugged his shoulders, “I made a bet with Y/N that she couldn’t, y’know, that she couldn’t go a week without—”
“A week without fucking you,” you interrupted your way back into the conversation when you saw that the discomfort was about to kill Angel on the spot. The look on his face was almost worth more than the fifty dollars.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bishop was looking at Angel when he asked. When he saw that Angel wasn’t going to be able to come up with an answer, he turned to you, “Why did you agree?”
You held up the fifty-dollar bill that was in your hand, “Fifty bucks is fifty bucks, baby.”
He shook his head and without another word he crouched down, wrapped his arms around your thighs, and threw you over his shoulder. You let you a scream that turned into a laugh as he carried you across the expanse of the clubhouse. You awkwardly tried to tuck the money back into your back pocket as he carried you. The most impressive part of the whole thing was that he hefted you off the ground like he had done it a million times before, and you were content to just let him.
He walked into Templo and slid the door shut hard behind him. You giggled to yourself as he set you on the end of the table. He spread your legs and stood between them, looking down into your eyes.
“You think this is funny?” his tone was serious.
“A little,” you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at the absurdity of the entire situation. How you had successfully dodged every sexual situation with him that week was beyond you.
He gripped your hips, “It’s been a long fuckin’ week, sweetheart.”
The playful smile disappeared from your face as a shiver went through your whole body. He grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, tossing it to the side. You pulled him in close to you and kissed him hard on the lips, melting into him as his hands roamed all over your body. He bit down on your bottom lip and you moaned, pressing your fingertips harder into his shoulder blades.
His hands wandered down to the button on your jeans and you smiled into your kiss as he deftly undid both the button and the zipper without missing a beat. You braced yourself against him and lifted your hips up slightly, allowing him to pull down your jeans and underwear in one smooth motion. You gasped as you sat back down on the table, the cold sensation against your freshly-exposed skin shocking you for a moment.
Bishop attached his lips to your neck and you moaned as you blindly reached for his belt. You tried to stay focused enough to undo it, which was proving difficult as you felt him sucking a dark mark into the side of your neck. A wave of heat washed over your entire body, reveling in the fact that he was touching you and you didn’t have to come up with a reason to make him stop. You finally yanked down on his jeans and you felt him chuckle against your neck.
He pulled you closer to the edge of the table and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close to you as you could. Seven days felt like an eternity, and as you felt him pressing against your entrance, you wondered how the hell you managed it.
“You been this wet waiting for me all week, querida?” his nipped at your bottom lip.
You nodded, letting out an unsteady breath, “Yes.”
There was a smug grin on his face as he slowly pushed into you. He let out a low groan as he did and you dropped your head back, a loud moan escaping you before you could try to censor yourself.
“Fuck, Obispo,” you dug your nails into his shoulders as you pressed yourself tight to him, “You feel so good.”
He pressed kisses all over your neck and jawline as he started to slowly thrust into you, “You miss this?”
You nodded, hardly able to form a coherent thought, “Fuck, yes.”
He quickly pulled out of you, peeling your body off of his. You whimpered at the loss of contact. Before you could say anything, he pulled you completely off the table and bent you over it, causing you to gasp. He spread your legs and slid back inside you. You gripped the edges of the table to try and steady yourself.
He wrapped one hand around your throat and gripped slightly, pulling you upwards just a bit as he thrust into you. “Was it worth it?” he grunted, “Going all week without this, without me?” his applied more pressure to your throat, letting you know that it was not a question he wanted you to actually respond to.
He let go of you and you sucked in a breath, bracing yourself against the tabletop. His hands dropped down to your hips and pulled you back hard against him. You moaned as his hand came down hard against your ass. You bit down on your lip to try and quiet yourself but Bishop wasn’t having it.
“Moan louder for me, sweetheart,” one hand slid up your back and gripped the back of your neck.
“Obispo,” you panted, “they’ll hear—”
“You made it their fuckin’ business already, Y/N, don’t get shy now.”
The statement made your whole face get hot, but you didn’t have much time to think about being embarrassed. His fingertips dug back in to your hips as he slammed into you, making you let out a yelp. He reached one hand around and started rubbing circles onto your clit and you couldn’t fight back the moans that escaped you. Your entire body started to shake and you knew that you weren’t going to be able to hold out any longer, not after a week of no real contact with him.
“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you gripped the table.
He pushed farther into you, “Cum for me.”
That was all you needed to hear. You were completely depending on him and the table to keep you somewhat upright as your orgasm rolled through you. You felt his pace speed up as he started to get close as well. He gripped one of your shoulders hard as he came inside you, moaning as he pressed his face into your back. You let out a shaky breath, soaking up the feeling of him leaning into you, keeping you held tight to him.
Once he caught his breath, he slowly pulled out of you. He gently lifted you and set you back on the table, knowing it was going to be difficult for you to stand. There was a small smile on his face as he pulled up his jeans and redid his belt. He stepped in close to you again, leaving a trail of soft kisses from your chest up your neck and to your lips. You laughed lightly, your hands reaching out to gently cup his face.
You rested your forehead against his, “I wanna go home, Obispo.”
He chuckled, “There gonna be enough hot water for both of us to shower this time?”
You laughed, your face getting hot, “Yea, I think so.”
You got dressed, instantly ready to get your clothes off and get clean the second you got home. You wished that you didn’t need to drive back. You tried to fix and adjust your clothing, not that it would really matter—the guys knew what the two of you had been doing.
Bishop slid the door open and let you walk out first. Everyone was making an effort to look anywhere but at the two of you. You placed a light kiss on Bishop’s lips and headed right out to your car, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. They were all expected Bishop to follow right after you but instead he walked up to Angel, who was staring very intently at his beer bottle.
“Get all that sorted out, Pres?” Angel chuckled, trying to pretend that there wasn’t fear shooting up and down his spine.
“I find out you’re making any other stupid fucking bets like that again I’ll take your flash,” his face was serious for a moment before he allowed himself to smile. He clapped Angel on the back and walked away, leaving the man sitting there wondering just how serious that threat was.
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dancingazaleas · 3 years
Text
𖨆. 08 / all for us
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summary: levi decides to walk you through his garden on a rainy day. you didn’t think that you’d end up having another antagonist though.
note: oh my god, i am deeply sorry that this took such a long time. i’ve been way too busy to actually sit down and get into the mindset of this book. i’m so sorry.
word count: +2.4k
taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume @quacksonlover81 @gipumaur @morgana-olson @yourodangoatama
warnings/notes: cursing, creepy gestures, fluff, slight confusion, unedited, let me know if i missed anything
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RAINDROPS pelted against the glass of the window gently, the sound echoing throughout the quiet room that is your bedroom.
today, levi had decided he would just spend his time with you in the comfort of your own room, holding you in his arms while he lazed the day away.
you, on the other hand, were having none of it. and by none of it, i mean cuddling. it wasn't that you didn't want to cuddle with levi, in fact, you enjoyed a lot! but, the rain outside your window was far more important in your eyes.
there was nothing exactly specific about the rain that entrapped your attention, just that it had been so long since you'd been in it. so long since you've been outside even.
but you'd never ask to go outside, the answer was already plastered onto an invisible wall inside of your head. so instead, you'd just look whenever you would get the chance.
and it didn't go unnoticed, it was actually quite obvious. you didn't care however, it's not as if erwin or levi were going to change their mind, so why worry at all?
but seeing the way your eyes sparkle at the sight of the rain gather in puddles outside, levi felt himself being convinced.
he huffs annoyedly, he just wanted to spend the day in your arms until erwin was home. he wishes it didn't rain. but even so, he begrudgingly gets to his feet and trudges to you. you look at him with a smile, hand reaching up to point at something that only you could probably see.
"we're gonna go outside for a bit, sick of watching your desperate face," he puts his hands in his pockets while staring at your widened eyes.
you stare at him for a minute, slightly creeping him out, before you even really react. you swing your arms around his neck and thank him profusely, a wide smile spread from ear to ear whenever you pull away from him.
"you're not going out in your nightgown though," he points to the silk white nightgown that ends at your bruised knees.
you follow behind him happily whenever he walks into your closet, shuffling through the different clothes he's bought you.
"you're not wearing light colors, it's too muddy outside, and if you were to get stains on you, they'd ruined beyond repair," he mutters, grabbing a black button up with bishop sleeves.
he hands it to you, gently taking your hand to lead you out of the closet and towards your dresser than held your clothes. he settles on a forest green skirt that ends just a few inches above your ankles, and then he grabs a bra for you.
"strip," you don't complain, only heat up and oblige.
his back is turned whenever he flings a black bra at you, obviously avoiding the sight of your body to help you maintain your decency. even if he did bathe you sometimes.
you hurriedly slip the bra on and levi finally decides to look at you again. he helps you button up your shirt along with the cuffs, nagging at you quietly as a husband would do for their wife. he lets you step inside the skirt on your own, which has you coming to the realization that there are built in pants that separate the air from your panties.
levi scoffs at your untucked shirt, tucking it into your skirt with fondness dripping from him. he sits you onto the stool of your vanity, which no longer has a mirror, and sighs. he picked up a brush, running it carefully through your hair to avoid any tangles that would tug at your head.
when he feels you're decent enough, he holds a cold hand out for you to take into his own. you accept it with glee, skipping behind him when he guides you through his estate and to the back door that leads to his garden.
"i need you all to clean up that table in the center. put those big umbrellas under it and dry it off with towels. then leave towels by the umbrella so i can wipe it down if it gets wet again. make us a light lunch, nothing too big but definitely not small. (name) and i are going to walk around the garden together until you all are finished or until we're ready to eat," levi's so quick with his words that it has you reeling with confusion, but his workers seem just fine with his speed and are already starting to complete the task given to them.
he holds a smaller umbrella in one hand and your hand in the other, opening it above the two of you as you step outside the door. your shoes click against the stone walkway just as thunder booms in the sky. you flinch and chuckle, pulling your hand away from levi to link arms with him.
he guides you along the garden, only explaining certain things if you had questions. the silence mixed with the light pitter patter of the rain soothes him, heavy eyes fluttering sleepily.
he's immediately awake whenever you squeal excitedly.
there was a marble statue of the goddess, themis. her scales were elegantly balanced between her fingers while her blindfold hung loosely around her eyes, other hand on the hilt of her sword that pointed to the ground.
"that was a reward for erwin at his office. i make sure to clean it myself every once and a while," you look to him, admiration mixed with confusion displayed on your face as you contemplated the meanings behind not only the goddess, but her statue as well.
you decide to keep quiet, slightly tugging levi to come closer to the statue so you can examine it more closely.
your eyes are shining whenever levi looks at you, and he feels like you're the sunshine in the midst of this pouring rain.
he looks down at his shoes silently, brushing away his cheesy and sappy thoughts. he feels stupid. not once had he felt this way towards anyone besides tall blonde men with blue eyes, but now he was feeling this way towards a woman. to say he was confused was only scratching at the surface.
he knew he'd liked you when he met you. you were quick witted, outgoing, and kind-hearted, not to mention gorgeous. but it's not like he wasn't sexually attracted to women at the time, he definitely was. he had never just felt romantically for women, not once in the entirety of his pitiful life.
but you're so docile and levi likes that. he not only likes it, he cherishes it.
for now, he'll entertain the thought that he might be bisexual, pansexual, whatever title makes him feel comfortable. if he can fall for you, then there's a chance he can fall for other girls.
levi hasn't even realized he's zoned out until you whine at him. you're lightly tugging on his hand to venture further into the garden, and levi's heart swells. you had an opportunity to leave, whether you even knew it or not, yet you chose to stay and wait for him. you had even snapped him out of it.
he lets out a huff before he stares to guide you around the garden again. he can't wait to take a nap after this.
"are you ready to eat yet," he grumbles, tugging on your hand to get you to stop walking.
"is there anything else left to see?"
"nothing that will look good in this weather," he scoffs.
"then, yes, i'm ready," and with that, he's leading you to the table his workers had been ordered to set up.
when you two arrive, you realize that the table was sat under a white hexagonal kiosko that had vines and flowers wrapping around the support beams. the table was covered from the rain, confusion clacking your brain at why levi asked for a big umbrella.
he seems pleased at seeing the table though.
"how long did it take for petra to realize," levi asks whenever he helps you sit down.
"not very long," the man said, and you recognize him from that day in bath with erwin.
you stiffen at the eye contact, looking down at the table and the empty plates that sit upon them. you feel his stare linger on you and your body, specifically your curves that were hidden underneath the button up shirt levi put on you. this kid gave you the creeps.
"i'll be back with the food," he says and walks behind your chair, fingers brushing against the back of your neck.
you swallow down your disgust, looking to levi to start a conversation.
"levi, wh... what's that boy's name?"
eyebrow raised, he responds, "his name's archie. why do you ask?"
"no reason. i think i've seen him around the house before," you shrug and idly play with the silverware on the table.
levi doesn't believe you, but the day has been too good for him to ruin now. you both talk sparingly while waiting for archie to come back, mostly talking about the new tv show you got levi to start watching and what he thinks about it.
the two of you turn your heads when you hear the sound of footsteps. you see erwin with archie following behind him with a tray of three plates, erwin holding an umbrella over the two of them. a soft smile sets on levi's face when he sees him.
"what are you doing home," you smile whenever he steps under the roof of the kiosko closes the umbrella.
"i was thinking of you two all day. it got so bad that i called a client by your guys' names," he chuckles, leaning down to give you a kiss on your head.
he does the same to levi while you giggle at his sentence. he sits down in an unoccupied chair, hand laying itself on your thigh.
"you can't just keep taking off, erwin," despite the slightly bitter sentence, levi's face is content.
archie places the plates in front of erwin and levi in silence, then to you. his arm brushes your own, and you can't help but get that weird feeling in your tummy again.
"thank you," you say to him quietly, flipping the fork between your fingers.
he just hums in response and walk away from the three of you again, sly smirk on his face. you ignore him, starting to eat the grilled chicken salad with slight confusion.
it had been over three months since you'd even had a fork in your hands. the feeling felt foreign and it felt as if all memory of how to eat with a fork washed away. the realization made your stomach ache, a dreadful look in your eyes spreading across your body. you swallowed down the huge ball that brews in your throat, hands trembling.
erwin and levi stare with pride swelling in their chests while tears swell in your eyes.
since when had you become so dependent? were you not just taking care of pieck and her cat when she was sick months ago?
you take a deep breath, adjusting the fork to make it comfortable in your hand. you try your best to eat with loose muscles, but the stiffness in your bones have practically turned you into wood.
erwin turns to you, sickeningly sweet smile on his face, taking the fork out of your hand and gathering food for you. he feeds you, just as he has done before, fingers gently touching your jaw as if he guided your chewing.
a warmth fills the ball in your chest, and deep down inside it makes you sick. you chew slowly and listen to levi and erwin's conversation, which consists of erwin's workday and how you've refused to cuddle with levi this morning.
————
you lay on the living room couch with your head in erwin's lap and feet in levi's. a crime documentary plays on the television, something erwin seemed excited about. he looked too cute to deny.
erwin's fingers run through the locks of your hair lovingly, only ever pulling them out if they start to tangle. levi's watching the documentary with a bored look on his face, thumb rubbing random patterns into your ankle. you're not exactly paying attention to the documentary, only zoning in whenever erwin points something out or whenever levi lets out a scoff.
you start to sit up and stretch, the urge of going to the bathroom taking over you.
you feel embarrassed whenever you ask, "can i go to the bathroom?"
"yeah, just go to the one in your quarters," levi's answer is immediate. he really must not like the documentary.
you pad over to the bathroom, listening to the pitter pattering of your bare feet against the dark hardwood floor. you walk into the opened door of your quarter, yawning obnoxiously and throwing your arms into the air. maybe you should've cuddled with levi this morning.
you go to the bathroom quickly, the thundering of the sky making you nervous. it would've been different if levi or erwin were with you.
you start to walk back to the living room, eyes focused on the flickering light that illuminates the large hallway. a particular loud clash of lightning and clap of thunder has you jumping into the air, house barely rumbling.
your body crashes into a chest, which you immediately grab onto, instinctively. you start to apologize to the person, obviously thinking that it was erwin judging by the height and broadness of the chest.
but when you look up, you're looking at the emerald green eyes that belong to archie. your words get caught in your throat and you feel yourself pale.
"i-i'm sorry," you stutter, immediately backing away only to come to the realization that you're already a few feet from the door to go back into the living room.
if you crashed into him, that means he was walking towards you. but the only thing ahead of the two of you would be—
would be your room.
dread drenches you, head to toe, sweat forming on your forehead as the room starts to feel a little bit fuzzy.
"wh-why were you in my room," you struggle to even get the first syllable out.
"levi wanted me to check for something in there," he shrugs nonchalantly, but you're not convinced.
you smile shakily and nod, rushing to the living room to get away from him. you try to think positive even after all the staring and subtle touches.
but it still leaves a pit in your stomach.
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casifer-is-king · 3 years
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I'd Never
Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader
Summary: It’s not that Javier isn’t interested in you, but there are some lines that can’t be crossed. Especially when you’re his partner’s wife’s best friend in Bogatá and he’s a DEA agent with a bad track record with relationships. But there has to come a breaking point, and this is it.
Rating: M
Warnings: curse words, alcohol and cigarettes (don't smoke kids), jealousy, a tiny bit of fem!receiving oral. If there's anything else I missed call me out.
A/N: This started as a simple little thing about why Javi avoids relationships. Then it turned into a "what would be the breaking point of that avoidance, though?" And it turned into this whole big thing lol. No beta we die like men. Please leave me feedback and reblog if you like 🥺💖
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It’s been two hours since Steve called Javier and told him Connie was dragging him out to the bar and Javier was coming too. Steve told him exactly when to be there and Javier showed up only five minutes late. That was an hour ago and he was currently wishing he had just stayed in his own apartment…
Finally, the bedroom door opened and Connie stepped out. She had on a short dress and some strappy heels, her hair curled and makeup done to perfection in dark, smokey colors.
“Can we leave yet? The bars are gonna be closed by the time you’re ready,” Javier quipped.
“Sorry to keep you from your drinks, Javi, but this woman’s hair would not cooperate.
It was only then that Javier saw you, stepping out behind Connie and dressed up similarly. Your dress was black, strapless and fitted at the waist, then flowing out into an a-line skirt that accented the curve of your hip. Your makeup was lighter than Connie’s, but the bright red lipstick brought attention to your mouth and had Javier licking his own lips.
“Sooo, are we ready or what?” Connie pulled Javier out of his reverie. She already had Steve by her side, helping her into her jacket by the door.
“Ready,” rasped the brunette, pulling a cigarette from the pocket of his shirt. He escorted you and Connie to the front of the building while Steve went to bring the car around.
“Can I have one?” You asked from Javier’s right.
He immediately offered you the one he had lit and watched as your much smaller fingers took the cig from between his, brought it to your crimson lips and inhaled. You let the smoke roll out of your mouth before handing it over to him again. Taking it back, his dark chocolate eyes observed the red stain on the filter before he inhaled the last drag. Dropping the butt to the ground, he dug for another, lit it then handed it off to you immediately.
It was a practiced action between the two of you by this point. Ever since Connie brought you over for one of those weekly dinners she insisted Steve invite him to - “or he’ll never have a good meal, Stephen” - almost three months ago now. Javier wasn’t sure if you never actually had cigarettes of your own, or if you just made it a habit of stealing from him specifically, but you always asked for one and he never said no. At this point, he was certain he wouldn’t say no if you asked him for most anything.
***
At the bar, Steve and Connie go to find a table while Javier and you go up for the first round of drinks. The bar is crowded, but Javier easily carves out a spot for the two of you to wait for one of the bartenders.
It’s only a few minutes before a guy sidles up to your side and begins a conversation with you. Javier tenses, but the bartender distracts him for the moment as he gets everyone’s order in and waits. When he turns to hand you your drink, the guy is still there and you seem to be happily having a conversation, letting him lean in close to your ear so you can hear him over the music. With your drink in hand you give the stranger a smile and a nod before turning to Javier.
“I’m gonna go dance,” you say over the music.
Javier nods, but his mouth is curved down into a frown as he juggles three full drinks to the table that Steve and Connie claimed. He sits and glares out across the dance floor while the married couple next to him have a quiet conversation all their own.
He watches you as you dance with the stranger, his hand on your waste and head ducked toward your neck. He’s obviously saying something into your ear, and whatever it is makes you smile. As the guy turns your body so your back is pressed to his front, Javier feels a rolling, burning feeling in his stomach. He has no right to feel this way, he tells himself. You aren’t his to be possessive over.
It’s not that Javier isn’t interested in you, but there are some lines that can’t be crossed. Especially when you’re his partner’s wife’s best friend in Bogatá and he’s a DEA agent with a bad track record with relationships.
Javier isn’t good at long term relationships. He knows this well. It's the reason that he keeps his interactions with women strictly business, both professionally and sexually (though sometimes those two things can be one in the same in his job). It’s the reason he left Lorraine on the day they were to be married and ran away to Columbia. And it’s the reason he keeps you at a distance when all he wants is to hold you in his arms and smudge your lipstick across your lips as he kisses you. Because you deserve better than a fast burn relationship that leaves you broken, and he knows better than to think he can get it right this time.
Instead, he watches your body as it melts into this random, watches as your hips meet his and you both move in time to the tempo of the song. And he glares. It isn’t a conscious action, but he glares across the room as he absently drinks his beer.
"If you glare hard enough maybe the whole place will burn down," comments Steve with a knowing smirk. “Or maybe he’ll just disappear and you can finally just make a move.”
Javier turns his glare to his partner. “Very funny, Murphy.”
Connie stands and places an arm on his shoulder. “Just go out there, Javi. Dance with her,” she urges him before turning to her husband. “Come on, babe. Buy me another drink and come dance with me.”
Steve turns blue eyes to meet brown. “Meet ya out there?” he asks Javier with a snarky little smile.
“Yeah fucking right,” Javier mutters to Steve’s retreating back, eyes quickly finding their way back to you. He watches you. Watches as you embrace Connie and pull her in to dance. Watches as that stranger’s hand finds it’s way over your stomach and up, up, up until he’s grazing the bottom of your breasts. Watches as he finds himself pushing through the crowd, getting closer and closer to you, and as his own hand engulfs your wrist and pulls you away from the asshole.
“What the hell, Javi?” you exclaim, spilling a bit of your second drink between the two of you.
Javier doesn’t answer; he silently accepts the car keys from Steve and nods at his partner's brief, “we’ll catch a cab home, man.” Then he leads you through the bar, draping his leather jacket across your bare shoulders before you even hit the doors, and continues to lead you to the car.
“Javier! What the hell?” you reiterate. You don’t fight him, though, and you accept his chivalry when he opens the passenger door and helps you into the seat.
He mutters some excuse that you barely hear before he shuts the door and jogs over to get in the driver’s seat. He pulls out of the parking lot with only a muttered, “I’ll drive you home,” but stays quiet other than that. He barely remembers walking out onto that dance floor, doesn't know why he dragged you away, and has no words to explain himself to you. He knows he owes you more than that, owes you some sort of excuse that he can’t give. Not without opening a door to something that he’d never be able to take back.
He tries not to look at you sitting next to him, swamped in his coat with confused eyes and a pout on your painted lips. Instead, he focuses on his driving, focuses on the dark streets in front of him, and focuses on bringing his emotions back in check. Building his walls back up so that he doesn’t hurt you.
He lights a cigarette, taking two drags before silently handing it to you. You accept the smoke, finishing half of it before passing it back without a word. You both smoke two more cigarettes like this before Javier pulls up to your building.
“I’ll walk you up,” he finally breaks the silence. And so he escorts you all the way up to your door without so much as another word. In the harsh fluorescent lights, he can feel you observing him, knowing you can see the hardening of his brow over his stormy eyes, the way his mouth is turned down into a pouty frown and the hunch of his broad shoulders.
At your door, you pause and Javier knows you want him to say something. Anything at all to make you understand. But when he doesn't, you unlock your door, hand resting on the doorknob.
“You know what? No, Javi. I’m not going to let you just leave me here like this without an explanation,” you finally explode. “What was that about back there? Why did we leave early?”
Javier huffs, but his eyes refuse to meet yours. You won’t back down, though. “Please talk to me,” you practically begged now.
He has thought about this moment a lot, how he would respond if you finally confronted him about this push and pull that you both engaged in. The light flirtations that he allows himself to indulge in without ever letting it advance to the next step. Light touches as you pass the cigarette back and forth between quiet banter, eyes meeting across Steve and Connie’s dinner table, a fluttering of your lashes and the twist of his lips into a grin just for you.
Javier makes the mistake of meeting your eyes. “I didn’t like seeing that cabrón all over you,” he finally spoke through clenched teeth. “I don’t like seeing any man looking at you the way he was, or dancing with you the way I should be.”
“The way you should be...?” you trail off, trying to understand what he’s saying.
“The way I want to be,” Javier adds.
There is a heavy pause between the two of you for a long moment, then you’re in Javier’s arms, eyes searching his expressive ones and looking for a sign that it’s ok to move forward. Javier answers that question by leaning down and capturing your lips with his - tentative, waiting to see where it goes. Wanting to see if he was really going to take this step after talking himself out of it for so long now.
You don’t give him too long to think about it, pressing into his chest and deepening the kiss. Javier pushes back, feeling your curves pressed into his torso as your back hits the door behind you. Your mouth tastes like tobacco with faint undertones of the alcohol you had been drinking and Javier finds himself falling into it. Any reason he has created to convince himself to keep you at arms length is crashing down around him.
Breaking the kiss when air becomes a necessity, Javier grasps your chin where your lipstick is smeared, wiping along the red stain before bringing his lips to yours again. Then it’s the fumbling to get into your apartment, the frantic removal of shoes and hands roaming skin. Making your way through the dark apartment, lit only by the orange streetlights filtering through the windows, Javier kisses every bit of skin he can find from your face to your shoulders. He takes note of all the noises you make, from the quiet gasp when he finds the soft spot behind your ear, to the giggle from that spot on your shoulder where his mustache tickles you.
Javier is pushing up the skirt of your dress, caressing your sides as he explores with his mouth, fingers dropping under the band of your panties and beginning to ease them down. Halfway down your thighs, Javier grasps your hips again and lifts until you are seated on one of the stools at your kitchen counter.
Kneeling between your legs, Javi looked up at you, eyes reflecting black with lust. “I want this all for myself,” he rasps out.
“It’s yours,” is your response, voice husky and dark.
At your word, Javier wastes no time latching his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thighs, exploring this new expanse of skin slowly. By the time he reaches his intended destination, he has you squirming in the seat, leaking onto the fabric beneath you and begging him to hurry up. And being the weak man that he is when it comes to you, he gives in easily and finally delves into the sweetness of your core.
He tries to take his time still, savoring in the moment. But you are impatient now, bucking into his face and letting out a constant stream of commentary, “please, Javie. So close. Please don’t stop.” And how could he stop when he finally had you here? Finally gets to hear your moans and taste you on his tongue. By the time your first orgasm has washed over you, he has already decided to see how many times he can make you beg in one night. How many times he can say yes to you and earn his name on your lips.
By the time you are both spent, he's lying with you in the crumpled sheets of your bed. He basks in the afterglow as you cuddle into his side, head resting on his chest and his arm around your shoulders tracing patterns across soft skin. Once he is sure you have fallen asleep, he begins to ease his way from under you. He doesn’t get far though, as your hand reaches out to grasp his larger one.
“Please say you’ll stay,” you whisper sleepily. Javier instantly relaxes back into your pillows, hand shifting to encase your much smaller one in his.
“I’d never say no.”
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Anxious Millennial Love
I couldn’t let this day pass without posting some fanfic love for the man whose become my favorite wrestler in the world. I’m not saying that he’s the best technically (although he’s pretty amazing and getting better all the time) but the combination of skill and nuanced character is unequalled. So here’s a fic in honor of birthday boy Hangman Adam Page. Happy trails, cowboy. 
Pairing: Hangman Page x reader
Word Count: 1,576
Warnings: None really. Other than that it’s pretty angst-y. 
The alcohol selection here isn’t great, to say the least. A few mainstream beers that all tasted the same, cheap spirits for mixed drinks and a couple of low-to-mid-range bottles for those who insisted on drinking straight up. And the atmosphere is pretty lousy. There’s always a small crowd and it’s not what you’d call a full-on dive, but an air of depression just permeates the place, rising like a mist from the eyes of the people in it. You’d never come here with your regular friends, that much is certain. You’re the cheery one, the plugged-in one who always knows what’s happening around town, where the hot spots are and where to be seen. You got your job at AEW because you knew all these things. You’re an Event Coordinator, which means that you’re in charge of everything from press conferences to team dinners. With everything in lockdown and all the shows happening in Jacksonville, you feel like you’ve been demoted to a glorified travel agent but given how many of your friends have been laid off, you know you’re one of the lucky ones.
“Just keep an eye on the kids,” was the instruction Tony gave you. Make sure they all had places to stay and make suggestions as to where they could go so that at least tracking their activities wouldn’t be too difficult.
Only one of the “kids” ever comes here, though. The rest cycle through the small number of places you’ve recommended. They’re not thrilled about it but they get it and they’re all happy to spend time with one another. He, however, needs to separate himself and take some time alone. So you’d suggested this place to him and hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else. A quiet bar with the basics and little likelihood of getting picked out by fans. He’d been shyly appreciative of the suggestion and the grateful look in his eyes had practically melted you.
So you’re sitting here, doing your job by keeping an eye on the company’s prize asset, the one who’s quietly become the most beloved character on the show: Hangman Adam Page. You know that the others have gone to dinner at the hotel and that a few of them will be hitting the bar there afterward, so you’re just doing your job by hanging around in the shadows of the bar where the Hangman has come once again to drown his sorrows. You’re just doing your job.
Except that never in history has a job coordinated so perfectly with what you’d choose to do anyway. You’d happily spend your time doing nothing but trailing after the Hangman. From the first time you laid eyes on him, you were done for. It was that combination of strength and pride with vulnerability. The anxious millennial cowboy indeed. You’d immediately let yourself get lost in those crystal blue eyes and you still couldn’t find your way out. So, sure, you were doing your job by keeping an eye on him. That’s what you told yourself. That’s what you told him on all the nights when you swept in to gather him up and take him back to the hotel. Just your job.
Seeing the time, you slide from the booth where you’ve been hiding with the same beer you ordered when you came in over an hour ago. It’s nasty and flat and you’ve barely been able to stick your tongue in it to give the impression that you were consuming. But it makes decent bait, so you bring it with you as you approach your target.
“Hey,” he mumbles, looking genuinely pleased to see you. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Well I just got here,” you lie. “But I don’t think I’m going to stay long.”
He pivots on his seat and gives you that sweet drunken smile, the smile that turns your skeleton to dust every time you see it. He’s like an angel with his soft golden curls and cherubic face, so powerful and yet so in need of protection. You don’t know exactly what it is that’s been troubling him all these months, the tension between him and his Elite brethren, the retreat into alcohol, the conflicting ways in which he constantly seems to be reaching out to people and isolating himself. Whatever it is, you just want to gather him up and shelter him from his demons. You want to be his safe space and sometimes, you think you are.
You push your barely-touched glass towards him and he eagerly accepts, draining almost half of it at once, then looking embarrassed when he burps.
“A bit too excited there,” he explains, blushing.
Nevertheless, he downs the rest of the glass in his next gulp, smiling when no bodily reaction shows up to humiliate him. He beams at you, eyes unfocused, and holds his arms wide, inviting you in. You couldn’t think of refusing.
As soon as you step closer, he enfolds you in his arms and pulls you against his chest. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck, admiring the sight of him staring up at you, inebriated and innocent.
“How do you always know where to find me?” he drawls.
“That’s my job,” you joke in response, saddened when you see that he believes you.
He runs his hands up your back and pushes his lips against yours, soft and needy like always, his tongue finding its way into your mouth and your movements growing more passionate until you’re forced to pull away.
You smile, seeing your lipstick smudged on his mouth and move to wipe away the mess with your sleeve. He just stares at you with affection and doesn’t react, like he doesn’t care what you’re doing as long as you’re there with him. He’s always so vulnerable looking when he’s like this, always seems like he just needs to be held and told that things will be alright, that the world is not as angry and brutish as it appears. You desperately want to reassure him, but what could you even say? You’re not any more hopeful than he is. But feeling his arms around you makes things a little better because he is proof that there are beautiful, incorruptible things in this world.
“I think it’s time I get you back to the stables, cowboy,” you tell him.
“Cowboys don’t live in the stables, silly.”
“Well then it’s time that I take you back to wherever the cowboys go.”
He pulls you close and kisses you again, fervently but also softly, needing you while at the same time showing how very much he appreciates you. Perhaps, if you were a better person, you’d just take him back to his hotel room and tuck him in before heading back to your own place. On top of all the other things that are obviously plaguing him, he really doesn’t need you raising questions about the kind of relationship you have.
But you’re not that person. You don’t need alcohol because you’re so drunk in love with him that no number of step-programs could save you. You run your fingers through his hair and feel your heart flutter. Then you take a step back, which he correctly interprets as a request to rise to his feet. As he does so, he pulls you in again and plants the most sensual, wonderful kiss you’ve ever had on your lips. You want it to go on forever. You want music to kick in and see credits roll. You want to believe that this is the moment where you’ve truly discovered each other and that you’re about to step into the world of happily ever after.
It isn’t. Tomorrow morning he’s going to wake up with the same sheepish expression he always has. He’s going to slink guiltily from your apartment and back to the hotel so that he can pretend it’s where he spent the night. You’ll be left reclining in a bed redolent of sex, still hearing his whispers of passion in your ears, still feeling the trail of his touches over your body. You’ll try to shake the heavy weight of your feelings off and you’ll fail but do just enough to allow you to get up and continue with your day.
Maybe it would be easier if you couldn’t tell he had feelings for you. Maybe if you could look in his eyes and see someone who just wanted a place to relieve his sexual tension, you could burn away any emotions he stirred in you. Maybe if he were an asshole like a lot of the men in this business are, you’d be better off. But every time he drunkenly declares that you’re the best thing in his life, the only thing that makes him feel better, and even when he retreats hung over and shame-faced from your bed, you know that his feelings go far beyond the desire for a casual hook-up.
Gathering you close against him, he whispers hoarsely into your ear, “Take me home. I need you to love me right now.”
And so you slide away just slightly, grasping both of his hands in yours and leading him towards the exit. Some day, you promise yourself, you’re going to force him to open up, you’re going to make him explain the specters that haunt him and make him realize that love can overcome them. But it probably won’t be tonight.
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I can’t even fathom how unproductive these conversations around kink at pride are. Due to the pandemic, most of us around the world aren’t going to get any public pride celebrations. The only thing this discourse seems to accomplish is pushing a conservative agenda inside our own communities, particularly targeted at queer men. And as tired as the statement is, yes, it’s very clear many people in the discussion have never been anywhere near an actual pride event.
Pride started as a protest. The sanitization of pride is what has led to corporations and uniformed cops moving in to shamelessly make money and spread propaganda through the very people they harm. It was never a disney/////land parade and given the multitude of issues still plaguing the community, eroding this tradition seems insidious to me. The fight for LGBTQIAP+ rights didn’t end at marriage equality and when too many people don’t even want us to exist, being loud and open sends a clear message that we aren’t going away or erasing our identities for their comfort.
And no, asking people to tone it down to show that “we’re just like straight/cis people” is not the answer. The hard truth is we will NEVER be accepted by people who think like that. Bigots have shown time and time again that they’ll happily tokenize conservative LGBTQIAP+ people and then throw them to the curb the moment they’ve lived out their usefulness to them. It isn’t just the kinky queers that demand more rights that they hate, it’s anyone who isn’t cis and straight. 
Beyond that, a lot of pride events have the nudity and other nsfw stuff roped off so that if you go past a certain point, you have nobody to blame but yourself if you see something that isn’t rated PG. Pride isn’t a public orgy, it has it’s rules and making it out to be is recycling the same garbage rhetoric bigots use to try and make ANY public displays of queerness to be pornographic deviance. 
While I agree that the issue with public kink is that others aren’t consenting to be a part of/witness to it, part of pride IS celebrating kink. Kink has been part of the community from its very beginnings and even outside of pride, you’re going to see kink pride flags alongside the others. If you don’t want to see kink and bare skin at pride, don’t go. You can’t throw a tantrum about seeing this kind of stuff when you know it’s part of pride and knowing that, you put yourself into that space.
If your kid is old enough to understand that people define their own genders and can love any gender they want to, you can add that said people can also have consenting sex if they want to and sometimes that sex involves more than just textbook intercourse. The human body isn’t something to be ashamed of and there isn’t anything positive to be had by protesting situations that may necessitate age-appropriate explanations. If you honestly think seeing a pup hood or leather daddy just hanging out at pride is going to ruin somebody’s childhood, I have a hard time believing you’re coming from a place of genuine concern. We’re exposed to so much straight sexuality on a daily basis, yet it’s only when queer people do the same that some of y’all clutch your rainbow pearls. 
I know it can be hard to have discussions like this when you aren’t in a place where you can be in real life queer spaces. For many of us, the internet is the only place we can talk with others like us and learn about our history. With that, though, it’s vital we all remember how inundated these online spaces are with bad information that’s meant to keep us at each other’s throats. If you don’t want to be arguing in bad faith, stop and ask yourself if what you’re about to say is something you’d hear some anti-gay, anti-trans politician say. Are you enforcing harmful stereotypes against queer people? Is this a community wide issue or something that makes you personally uncomfortable? Is what I’m saying meant to shame or hurt others? Life is hard enough without people who are supposed to be our siblings adding to the dog-pile 
TL/DR Taking the sex entirely out of sexuality is not progress, it’s the same repression that makes coming out and staying out a hell for too in the LGBTQIAP+ community. Keep pride weird. 
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miss-pearlescent · 4 years
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Universal Differences (7/7)
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Trapped in a dilapidated spaceship, you kidnap an alien to help you gain your key to freedom: marriage to a safe and trustworthy diplomat.
As a rich and handsome son of billionaires, Kai is bored of his repetitive party life. It isn’t until he’s kidnapped by a little human with a mission that he realizes the fun he’s been missing.
Rated M for smut (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) ♡
[ 1 | 2 | 3ᵐ | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 ]
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[7/7]
TW: sexual assault.
It was going well. It had to be going well. These men were speaking to you, a luxury that sometimes didn’t even happen back on Earth. They wanted to discuss things in private, down the hall where there was less noise. It was only at the last second, when they pulled you into an empty room, that the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.
“Sir, I think—”
The first thing that happened when the door shut behind you was a flurry of movement. You couldn’t see anything in the dark room, but suddenly you were lying down on a hard surface—a table, maybe—and a hand was clamped around your neck.
By instinct, your hands held onto the wrist, trying to pull the hand away. Thankfully, you could still breathe, but just barely.
Bright eyes stared down at you, laughing as you struggled underneath him. Then you felt the wet tongue, pushing past your lips into your mouth.
It was disgusting and your first instinct was to bite down.
But you remembered Kai telling you this was how these people kissed, so it must have been a good sign. You forced yourself to stay still, to not scream and push the man away. There were at least two others in the room, watching this happen. You just hoped one of them found you acceptable.
Rough hands palmed your breast and you whimpered, wanting to shrink away. “A fatty,” the man on top of you muttered. That sent the other two into hysterics for some reason.
“Let me touch them,” a voice said.
You felt another pair of hands grabbing at your breast, and that was when the fear settled in.
You weren’t going to get a husband tonight, no matter if you spread your legs happily or not. There wasn’t going to be a nice little farm waiting for you tomorrow morning, topped with a husband who showed you how to fix machines here and there. You weren’t going to sleep in a soft bed, tuckered out as you listened to your husband’s soft snores.
You weren’t even sure if you were going to make it out of here alive.
But you had to.
Kai had warned you about the differences of sex between humans and his people. This, you knew, wasn’t sex.
You kicked, aiming for the balls.
A shout came and thankfully, the tongue assault stopped. Silence hung in the air until a hand came down to smack you on the side of your head.
It sent a loud smack in the air and your head would have flown to the side if it weren’t for the fingers that still curled over your throat. The jarring motion made something click in your head.
What the hell were you thinking? Trying to marry into safety in a place that didn’t care about you one bit?
The man muttered words that you didn’t understand, but you could probably guess that it was something along the lines of “this little bitch.”
You kicked again, glad that you had worn your heavy combat boots. Still, you wished there was a pointy heel at the end as you made contact with the man’s stomach.
He finally let go and you sat up, clutching your throat and gasping for air. You eyed the other two, debating the best course of action: run, scream, or fight?
Before you could make a quick decision, the door burst open, making one of the bookshelves shake.
You let out a strangled sob, your throat tight. Kai stood there, his deadly glare going from the three men to you.
“I heard a commotion in here,” he said, his voice low and gritty. “Is something the matter?”
The men stepped forward, blocking you from Kai’s sight. “Forget you saw anything, boy. Enjoy the party.”
You cleared your throat and hopped off the table, tugging your dress into place. “These kind gentlemen were just showing me some relics from the building,” you said lightly, weaving around the men until you were at Kai’s side. “There is so much to learn here.”
Kai’s eyes were fierce as he pulled you in, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. It surprised you and it seemed to surprise the three men too as they stood behind you, speechless.
“Come, we should start heading home. You gentlemen will understand. My human wife is always very curious, but she tires easily. We are still at an adjustment period.”
You took that excuse and clutched Kai’s arm, leaning into it. You were the opposite of tired. You were pumped on adrenaline, scared for your life.
But here was a moment  for you to tell your racing heart that things were going to be okay. At least for now.
The men exchanged awkward pleasantries with Kai, who walked you out of the ballroom. He ignored the whispers of the people around him and you tried to do the same.
“Did they hurt you?” he asked after settling you into the back of a fancy spaceship he had hailed. He ran his fingers gently over your shoulders, stopping near the collarbone as he eyed a spot on your throat.
You shook your head and rubbed your neck, covering whatever he might have noticed. “I’m fine. You won’t be in any trouble, will you?”
He held your gaze a little longer, but you didn’t want to talk about what just happened right now. Your eyes pleaded with him to drop the subject, and he finally did, taking a seat on his side. “Nothing a little money can’t handle.” He gave an address to the driver and the ship began taking off.
“I’m sorry,” you said as your body began to slump. The adrenaline was wearing off and tears pricked behind your eyes. “I will leave as soon as I can.”
“You can’t.”
You looked up, suddenly worried. Were there repercussions for flirting with the diplomats? Were you stuck here as an illegal?
But Kai’s lips tugged upward into a playful smile. “I told them you were my wife.” Was he being serious? You couldn’t tell. “We might be different, but we need to keep up the appearance of husband and wife at least for a little while.”
You didn’t dare breathe in case this was all a dream and you were going to be sent back to that dark room if you believed too hard.
“Hey, don’t look too disgusted by the thought,” he teased, nudging your boot. “We’ll have to make it official in case they go looking for papers. But you can disappear within a turn of the moon or so.”
“Disappear...” A turn of the moon was about a month back on Earth.
Kai looked out the window. “I know some people. In the meantime, I can help you some more with your research. I’ll also upgrade your ship a bit, if you want. You’ll still be able to drive it, but it’ll be faster and quieter. The upgrades should last at least a few years.”
“I...”
“Feel free to visit for a tune-up if you ever need one. Or any mechanic who knows the Bubship Manual. It’s old, but it’s a foundation.”
“Kai.” Your voice cracked with the tears that threatened to fall.
He cleared his throat and nudged your foot again. “I don’t have any coffee, but we can bring some back when we go grab your stuff from your ship. I’ll get my ‘droids to break it down and see if we can replicate it here so we can—w-why are you crying?”
Actually, you were sobbing, fat tears streaming down your face.
“Come here,” he said, but he was already out of his seat and crouching beside you. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”
Brushing at your face, you shook your head. “It’s nothing,” you choked out. “If you ever get married, you are going to be an amazing husband.”
Kai’s eyes softened, his hand coming up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ears. “Are you saying I’d be an amazing husband for you?”
You nodded fervently. “For anybody, Earthen or not.”
He pulled you into his arms, settling you on his lap as he took your seat. “Then marry me.” He kissed the top of your head, so soft and gentle compared to what his people usually did. “I've realized keeping my little human safe and happy is turning out to be quite fun.”
You blinked, even as Kai’s kisses traveled lower, down your cheeks and skirting your lips. “Kai, I think...”
“You don’t have to say yes right now.”
Your hands touched his face and you pulled back to meet his eyes. “Kai, I think we need to talk about this a bit more when we get back. But right now, you are definitely the man I want to marry.”
“Then let me help you.” He turned his face, pressing a brief kiss to your palm.
You bit your lip, feeling like you had been burned by such a soft gesture. “Help me do what?”
“Forget those men’s actions.” He took your wrist and ran his tongue along the pulse. “Forget their words.”
“Kai...” You could feel your pulse everywhere now. In your throat, between your legs...
He pulled you onto his lap, brushing away the last of your tears. “You have me now, little human.”
---
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, that’s a wrap :) I hope you guys liked it! Rereading it now, it feels quite short (esp that ending lmao). I think I had meant to come back and bulk it up a bit more because I was on a writing streak when I had first written this story. HOWEVER my life has decided to throw MANY twists and turns at me in the past month that I am completely lost and literally have not written a single word recently.
I do have another story that is completely written out and ready to go...as long as I can find the time/motivation to edit it and stuff! Hopefully I will be able to do that soon but I cannot promise anything at the moment :(
Thank you all for reading though and I’m so glad you guys enjoyed it. See you guys at the next story :D
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thirdmagic · 4 years
Text
i was going through some files and stuff and found a profile and my room lines for an older david alt i wrote up around two years ago, and i read it over and decided that i still like it so i’m going to dump this here and run away
My Room Lines
1 There is only one, in this world or any other, who I truly serve. Oh, but don't take this to mean you don't have my full cooperation. Rather, it would be more suitable for you to treat me as I were a general in your army, or a military advisor, more than a Servant. I would be more useful to you this way, rather than a single individual solider.'
2 For you, the leader of your army, to be staying in your room, bored, while your troops go off to work and make war... Master, such situations never lead to anything good, you know? It's a terrible waste of valuable time. Come, now, let's be off. There is a great deal to be done.
3 This is quite the role reversal for me, actually. You're like me in life; the head of a great and powerful army, and me, a soldier in the midst of the battlefield that you survey. It seems I've taken the role of your Joab, in fact... perhaps in the end I'm really meant to serve much more than to lead.
4 I will serve you, of course, to the best of my abilities. But I have no intent to stay silent, or go along with it blindly, if you act incorrectly. ... Of course, I do not expect you to act flawlessly at all times, either-- in your position, one often has to make difficult choices. Just keep it in mind.
5 (Archer David) Yes, yes, I know that other me is here. Please, don't remind me. Honestly... what's he doing, that stupid old man? Running around in the body of our younger self... does he miss our youth so much he's trying to recreate it? Delusional old pervert, that's what he is... don't trust him, Master. That he is a useless, frivolous slacker makes him seem harmless, but he's much worse! He's cunning and duplicitous and-- why are you laughing?
6 (Sheba) Ah, this woman-- I know of her. As a fellow monarch like her, and her rival, I respect her. As Solomon's father, I am wary of her, and hope she did not lead his heart astray. There will be some time before I can accept her into the family. Though, that said, if this is any indication of his taste in women-- well, now! Not bad at all.
7 (Avicebron) A great poet and philosopher, and a wise man. But one whose soul was deeply troubled, and who struggles with actions that have soiled his hands. But I won't disrespect him with my pity. All I can say is that I understand. True wisdom, after all, brings the heart a great deal of trouble.
(Bonus: I wrote this profile way before Atlantis/Olympus happened so I guess these don’t really work now but) 
8 (Solomon) ...  Master. For both our sakes. Please, do not urge me any more to talk to the boy. I realize you mean well, but nothing good will come of it. More than for myself, I've no doubt he'd rather I keep my distance. There is no room for me to interfere in his new life. -- And that's all I have to say on this topic.
9 (Goetia) So this is the... ah, creature? Who possessed my son's body and went around doing all sorts of undignified things in it to ruin his reputation... Hm? Why am I not angry over the attempted incineration of humanity? Well, I'm a little cross over that, but as long as he understands and takes responsibility for these actions, it's fine. It's not for me to judge him. But the other thing is just disrespectful and irresponsible! To mar Solomon's good name with actions he didn't even commit!
Likes Good food, good drink, and a warm, comfortable bed. Even though I am a spirit now who has no need of them, it's such simple, physical needs that are all I need to be satisfied. ... Oh, what other physical needs I enjoy? Haha! Now, that's something I'll tell you about when you're older.
Dislikes There once was a certain man who served me. A skilled and strong warrior whose resourcefulness and cunning I relied upon, and he, giving in to his bloodlust and self-interest, had betrayed me. You do not need to know the details, but I cannot and will never forgive him, and so, swear you one thing: that I will never act towards you as he did towards me.
Holy Grail I have no single wish, but I do have things I desire. None of these are things I would ever ask of the Grail, however. Many of these things are... just daydreams, and the rest are meaningless if I don't achieve them on my own.
Event I've heard that you've landed upon a rare opportunity; don't waste it. We must go see to it at once, Master.
Summon Ruler-Class Servant, David. I have answered your summons. Now, then, we have no time to waste. You have an important task ahead of you, and my intent is to ensure it comes to completion.
Bond
1 Hm. You're a fair bit more young than what I'd expected of the last remaining Master tasked with the world's salvation... I mean, in this era, it's unusual for people your age to take upon such heavily responsibilities, isn't it? Yes, you clearly require all the assistance I can provide.
2 You know, even if I was a king in life, you needn't treat me now as if that were still the case. After all, I have no country to rule over. Before I am a king and before I am a heroic spirit, I am a mere instrument of the Lord's will. And now, I fulfill my duty in this world by aiding in your cause.
3 You're like me, aren't you, Master? A young person, perfectly average, perfectly humble, thrust into the hands of destiny and put into an overwhelming role of massive responsibility. I said you're young, but truth is... I misjudged you. Whatever child you were once is gone. When I look at you, I see the eyes of a soldier, one worthy of being called a true warrior. How do you feel about it, I wonder? Are you angry? Sad? Frustrated? Does it pain you? I see you keep fighting, but is it with reluctance, or do you humbly accept that responsibility and put personal feelings aside, whatever they may be?
4 I apologize for my callous remarks earlier, Master. Oh, don't misunderstand me. I meant what I said. But I should not have been so callous and spoken so freely, and-- well, maybe I was really thinking of myself more than you. But what I said of you as a soldier and a warrior was the truth. You should take pride in your journey and all you've done to this point. As a Master, you have nothing but my respect and loyalty.
5 Master, do you know what makes a Ruler, in this system? Not simply a saint. An impartial, just person who can cast true judgment and perform their duty with no personal desires to get in the way. Don't you find it strange? To cast in this role a hedonistic king such as I, I who have fallen to my personal desires at the expense of my duty? And yet the generations after me, the world itself, all depict me as a righteous and pure man, an impartial judge. That is the man is who they all know me as. It's ironic. It's so ironic I don't know if to laugh or cry. But you know, I should like to do my best to be this sort of person, if I am to honor my descendants as they have honored me.
Profile
Default King David prefers to be summoned in the form of the young shepherd he was when he defeated Goliath, but here he's been summoned from the prime of his life the King of Israel. A great and powerful king who has brought about peace and prosperity through years of conquest and war, he has accomplished much within his reign.
Bond 1 Height & Weight: idk, taller than archer david, less twinky though, higher weight too Series: FGO original Source: The Bible Region: Israel Alignment: Lawful Neutral Gender: Male The skill 'Harp Of Healing' has been lost permanently in this form.
Bond 2
A brutal warrior and an eloquent poet. A just idealist, and a ruthless, coldblooded pragmatist. A dutiful king, devoted to God above all else, and yet a hedonist weak to material comforts and attractive women. A shrewd and cunning businessman who's always attentive to all goings-on around him, and an unfocused slacker who would happily spend all day up to afternoon lazing off in bed. Such is the sort King that the shepherd boy David became; a man full of many such contradictory traits coexisting within him. The earnest shepherd boy who defeated Goliath has since matured and wizened into an experienced warrior and become a true king, and with it, it seems as if his heart has hardened. His personality is aloof and distant, and rarely does he show anything of the carefree, friendly shepherd he prefers to be summoned as.  
Bond 3
Among David's many actions as king, one of the most famous would be the incident of his adultery with Bathsheba, wife of Uriah of Hittite.
In order to cover up their affair and Bathsheba's resulting pregnancy, David attempted to persuade Uriah to lay with her again after returning from war. Upon failing, he would order his men to leave Uriah behind to be killed in the battlefield. 
For this crime, David's family would have a divine curse placed upon it. Much of his later life would be marked by tragedy.
The child Bathsheba conceived from their affair died after only a few days, and his son Amnon would sexually assault his half-sister Tamar. In revenge, Tamar's full brother Absalom would conspire with his fellows to kill Amnon, and this act would have him be exiled by David in his grief. 
He would return only to lead a rebellion and attempt to usurp the crown, which drove his father out with his armies for three years, and in the final battle to retake the throne, he was killed by Joab, the commander of David's army and his right hand man, against David's explicit orders to spare him.
Bond 4
The Lord's Anointed A
A form of Charisma that applies the skill of Divine Protection towards the leader's army and allies. The skill of Divine Protection has been lost to this David when he had a divine curse placed upon him, but in exchange the protection can be applied to all allies outside of his blood family.
Curse On The House Of David EX
A crystallization of the curse placed upon David's family line directly by God. An embodiment of the path of bloodshed that has led to much success and victory as a ruler, yet a great deal of personal loss. The Servant container allows him to re-purpose this curse into a lethal weapon; the amount of power it grants him correlates to the damage it also automatically inflicts upon him, though the limit is that it cannot exceed what he himself cannot survive and it will ensure to keep him alive.
David himself, for his part, does not consider the self-inflicted damage neither penance nor some form of terrible suffering; rather, he stoically accepts it as a natural, unavoidable consequence.
Bond 5
Sacrifice NP description, too lazy to copypaste
Interlude
It's impossible to get any true answers about his feelings on the best of times. He finds is as difficult to understand his own heart as he does the hearts of others, and any moment he allows himself to be truly open only ever comes on his own choice and his own terms, often with great reluctance even then. Any question of his feelings that he does not want to speak of will be met with a distant, emotionless non-answer through which only a little bit of the truth slips through the cracks.
But it perhaps speaks of a certain immaturity still remaining that he is quick to express his emotions very openly and loudly the moment he does choose to open up. In spite of how he looks, he's actually very earnest and sensitive, and cries easily when upset. He'll talk about his feelings very beautifully and poetically in the heat of the moment, and afterwards go right back to closing himself off completely again and pretend nothing happened.
This all makes him sound terribly troublesome, but he's a loyal, dedicated Servant to any Master he finds worthy. It's not difficult to win his appreciation and respect so long as the Master is genuine and does their best to be righteous-- it's his full trust that's another matter entirely.
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bnha-almost-a-hero · 4 years
Text
now you’ll never leave me
kinktober but it’s no nut november. not like anyone’s going to nut to my shit smut.
day five to eleven of kinktober featuring the CHAD shigaraki, the VIRGIN reader and a whole bunch of kinks to make up for my days of inactivity.
warnings and shizz: smut (minors better stay away), loss of virginity, impreg, unsafe sex, obsessive shigaraki, me writing in the third person for once (it feels like i’m doing it wrong), female reader (i’m sorry), this is FILTH
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this is gon’ be wild
prompts ― dress up, virginity, impreg / breeding, loving sex, (light) spit play & food play (i’m so sorry)
character ― tomura shigaraki
Do you ever go into a sexual encounter and think “I have no fucking clue what I am doing”?
Yes?
No?
For ( f/n ) ( l/n ), this was a startling reality―her worst fear realized. She was frankly inexperienced in nearly everything that came with sex and general relationships. For years she’d hung on to the lines “I’m saving it for the right person,” or “I’m focusing more on my studies,” whenever the topic came up in conversation yet, now, she was finally ready.
To say she had everything planned out was an understatement. She’d gotten two bottles of lube―figuring she couldn’t be too sure―a pack of pre-lubricated condoms, a box of premium chocolates, a couple bottles of whiskey and, of course, a schoolgirl costume that she’d ordered from a high-quality sex store. All this for one man...
Tomura Shigaraki.
Her boyfriend of two years.
And one of the most wanted men in Japan.
( f/n ) figured, for their second anniversary, she’d surprise him. As a regular at the hideout, she knew that he and the rest of the League of Villains―excluding Kurogiri―were out on a team reconnaissance mission and would return in the evening. In that time, ( f/n ) had completely overhauled his room.
She knew better not to touch his gaming set-up, lest he freak out on her, so she mostly decorated the area around his bed. A black, gossamer canopy was labouriously set up around the bed; candles filled the air with cinnamon and caramel; and rose petals―rather clichély―littered the carpets leading up to the bed.
Behind the canopy, sat ( f/n ), dressed in the aforementioned form-fitting schoolgirl costume―modelled after the classic seifuku uniforms yet with a few ‘reductions’ to the fabric. A few small candles of incense crackled next to her, lulling her spiking nerves to rest. Letting out a nervous sigh, she closed her      ( e/c ) eyes, reciting the sultry lines she had planned out.
She placed a piece of chocolate into her mouth, humming happily as the sugary treat melted in the warmth of her lips. I can do this, she reassured herself, cracking her knuckles. 
An idle buzz sounded from her phone. Tomura ❤️💕 was calling. ( f/n )’s heart seized up, now worried that something had gone awry during the mission. She immediately snatched up the phone, pressed the ‘accept’ button and pressed the phone to her ear.
“W―What’s wrong?” ( f/n ) asked softly. “Are you okay? Are the others―.”
“I’m fine,” Tomura rasped out, voice slightly muffled as if he were trying to hide his conversation from someone. “The rest of ‘em are okay too... Sadly...”
“Oh,” She chuckled. “Don’t be horrible.”
“I can’t wait to get back to you,” Tomura murmured. “Spending the day with these idiots has fried my brain cells.”
“Oh, well, um, I’ve got a―uh―little surprise for you when you get back, okay?” She smiled. “So hurry back!”
“Sure,” He said then paused for a moment. “Toga says ‘bye-bye’.”
“Aww, tell her I said bye too.” She pulled down her skimpy skirt as she waited for him to come back onto the line. “Bye, Tomu-kun.”
“Bye, Player Two,” Tomura replied before he hung up. ( f/n )’s smile only grew. Tomura probably expected the surprise to be a new game or maybe a new gaming console but what he was getting would be much, much different.
The League of Villains arrived back at half-past seven. ( f/n )’s heart leapt as she heard movement downstairs; disjointed conversations sparking then simmering down; and then finally footsteps climbing up the stairs only accessible through the backroom of the bar and then across onto the floorboards. 
He was here.
The woman shuddered expectantly, letting out a heated breath as her heart thrummed inside her chest. The door cracked open followed by a small gasp.  ( f/n ) breathed in then out before she extended a stocking-clad foot out to spread the gauzy canopy apart.
“Tomu-kun, honey,” She batted her eyes even though she knew he couldn’t fully see her past the beautifully woven layers of butterfly silk. “Come closer, I’ve been waiting~”
Tomura hesitated, stiffening at this unexpected surprise before he stepped forward. He could barely see ( f/n ) through the thin material that had been draped over his modest, black bed but he could see from the rose petals laid out on the floor and the sensual beckoning he’d received that he was finally getting some.
He parted the canopy with both hands and what he saw before him awed him.
His woman, ( f/n ), wearing a tight-fitting sailor-style school uniform with various exaggerated adjustments including a midriff exposing top and a mid-thigh length skirt to make it more appealing to the erotic form. 
She sheepishly grinned at him, reaching forward and dragging him towards her. Adjusting him into a kneeling position, she crawled forward, all the while pulling at his black pants. Their eyes met, blazing fires kindling inside each other. 
“I love you,” She murmured, pressing a kiss to the erection tenting through his dark underwear. “This is for our anniversary.”
And, with that, she tugged down his boxers, taking his erect dick into her soft hand. She leaned down, licking his tip tentatively―savouring the salty, overpowering pre-cum that oozed from his bubbling urethra. For a few moments, she tip-toed between enjoying the taste or tolerating it before deciding it wasn’t half bad and leaning her head down further to fully swallow his cock.
His veins throbbed inside of her luscious mouth. A moan left his parted lips as he rocked back and forth, inadvertently fucking the woman’s throat with his slow movements. Gagging slightly but not deterred, ( f/n ) bobbed her head up and down, swaying her hips from side-to-side and staring up at him with a look that positively screamed: “Fuck my throat up, I can take it~”
( f/n ) licked from the tip downwards as far as she could manage, humming and moaning in bliss as she closed her eyes and leaned back. By this point, Tomura had fully grasped his role in all this, placing four fingers on the back of her head and pushing her forward gently.
A chorus of moans and muffled hums filled the room, accompanied by a riveting melody of gags and the wet ‘slap, slap, slap’ of Shigaraki’s balls against ( f/n )’s chin. Drool poured from her lips, splashing down onto Tomura’s thighs and onto the luscious duvet that had been laid out earlier. 
This sensation was so strange... Her core burned expectantly, already soaking wet before Tomura had arrived. Every so often, ( f/n )’s luscious, lower lips would spasm and throb, engorging with steaming blood as it begged her to indulge in her reproductive instincts...
We can have a child, her mind prompted her, I can take care while he’s off on League business. 
Their age nor their financial stability didn’t cross their minds as they became willing victims to the whims of their primal, vestigial urges. Both pairs of eyes met; dull electricity sparking behind their dilated pupils. Tomura pulled back out of her warm, drooling mouth.
“We can―.” He began, but paused, almost unsure of himself.
“Have a baby.” She smiled up at him. “But, first, let’s try something...”
( f/n ) ducked under the canopy, stumbling towards the sleek vanity adorned with various bottles of expensive exotic liquors and chocolates. Forgoing the liquor, she grabbed a box of premium chocolates before crawling back into bed. Placing it off to the side, for now, she looked up at her lover through hazy, full eyelashes.
She reached a hand up to tug at the ribbon of her seifuku, smiling up at Tomura as she pretended to fumble with the tie. She pouted, “I―I don’t suppose you could help me, Tomu―kun?”
He stared at her, jaw open, before closing it and tugging her closer, whispering in her ear, “That’s Player One to you.” 
“Of course, Tomu-kun, you’ll always be my Player One.”
He hummed at her approvingly, placing a hesitant hand on her top, crumbling it to dust. ( f/n ) let out an airy sigh as the dust slid down her body, caressing her silky skin as it weaved its way down to her skirt. She lied back onto the bed, grabbing the delicately-wrapped box of chocolates and handing it to Tomura. He grasped it with two fingers.
“It’s always been a fantasy of mine,” She began, biting her lip idly. “To have you lick chocolate off of my―.” Despite trying to stay in character as a self-confident temptress, she could hardly muster the courage to say that word. So, instead, she motioned to her puffy, hardened nipples. “Please―. Please indulge me for today...”
It wasn’t as if he needed convincing. Before she had even finished speaking, he had already thrown the top of the chocolate box off onto the floor and was plucking them out one by one to place onto her nipples; trailing them down further down her chest, down to her stomach and navel, finally ending at the apex of her thighs once he ran out of chocolates.
“Are you―?” He asked, staring up at her with an insecure look―as if he was certain she was making a mistake.
( f/n ) grasped his cheek as he lay over her, rubbing the blushing flesh under her thumb. “I’ve never been more certain.” And that wasn’t the self-confident temptress she was playing, that was all her speaking. She truly wanted this. The proof was her sopping, frustrated cunt. “Take me, my Player One.”
Tomura smiled at that, placing a hand on her skirt, deteriorating it into cold dust. His last barrier from fully taking her was the silken underwear she had chosen to wear, stained through with her slick. He pressed his weeping tip to her spasming cunt, rubbing his urethra up against her clit. 
“Ahhh~” She moaned out, closing her eyes as she felt her body heat up. “Fu―Fuck, Tomu-kun―. Player One―. My King―. Take me, take me!”
He pushed into her slowly, careful of her hymen. Yet, unlike all the horror stories she had read online, there was no pain. Just a slight sting and then nothing but pleasure. Tomura’s index reached down to play with her throbbing clit, rolling it around in figure eights as she sobbed with joy at the overstimulation. 
She moaned loudly, not realizing in the haze of sex-filled euphoria that there were people downstairs, throwing her head back as she beckoned Tomura downwards with her hand. He leaned down and, with melting chocolates pressed between them, kissed him with as much fervour and passion as she could muster. He rocked inside of her, thrusting his tongue further into her mouth. 
They separated only so she could speak, “I was―ah~. I was seri―serious about that baby thing...” She rasped breathlessly, as she felt the chocolate melt and fuse to her skin. “I’ll be a good, hah~. I’ll be a good mom and you―you―you can continue―.”
“A Shimura,” He murmured, licking at your chocolate-covered skin. She rasped, confused as to what a ‘Shimura’ was. His name was Tomura Shigaraki, right? Right? “I’ll put a Shimura in you. An―And you’ll carry it yourself... It’ll be a sign of our love, w―won’t it? And then―And then you’ll never leave me, right?”
( f/n ) nodded enthusiastically, finding she could barely formulate words as he thrust into her, continuously battering her fleshy G-spot repeatedly. Moans and incoherent mutterings as to how she’d be a ‘good mommy’ were all that escaped her silken lips as her eyes flickered up into her skull. 
“’M gonna cum,” He murmured, finishing lathering her once chocolate-covered stomach with his spit. “I’ll knock you up right here, right now.”
“Pl―Please!” She managed to stutter out, ecstatic at the thought of her swelling stomach; her puffy, milky tits; the little waddle she’d be reduced to due to the size of her pregnant belly. “Impregnate me, Player One!”
With a final buck of his hips, he spurted his hot, thick cum into her fertile womb, laying there until he was sure he’d poured everything he had into her before collapsing to the side. He hummed, tracing circles into her stomach, “And now you’ll never leave me.”
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milwrites · 4 years
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Weird that it happened twice, right? introduction - masterlist
A/N: hey! this is a multi part fix i’ve been working on for a good while now; it’s a reader insert but written in the first person because i’m awful in second , but the main character isn’t described at all other than small, but compared to 6”2 cowboys it doesn’t really mean much... it will have smut in later chapters and is john x reader :)) also loads of smut and not too much angst at all.
word count: 3.9k
T/W: there is a lot of swearing later on, smut, canon typical violence and lightly described sexual assault although there is no graphic detail.
Brilliant, quick of wit and sharp of mind, are all words that were once used to describe me, the bastard born daughter of an English lord. My mother a simple welsh girl who an aristocrat fell in love with, who bore an aristocratic child, who died through complications during the birth of her daughter. I’m told I was held by my mother for only a few short moments, and was named by my father while taking my mother’s family name in remembrance. I was despised by my stepmother of course, who saw even a child as a threat, the bright eyes and aquiline nose too much of a reminder of the love her husband had had for another while married. This meant I was shunned and despised for most of my early life; spending my adolescent years split between being taught to read, write and speak various languages, and learning to ride, shoot and hunt, having verbal abuse thrown at me by my darling stepmother at every opportunity. It shaped me into a fiery young woman, and having been left virtually in the company of men and the closest thing to a mother I had in the form of an early feminist governess, I had many unbecoming ideologies for a woman: I had no desire to be married off, wanted women to vote and I believed myself to be equal to a man. the indignity.
At 13 I bred my beloved mare; the sire being father’s proud 18 hand thoroughbred, the dam the most stunning bay warmblood mare I had hunted on from an early age. Bonnie was born healthy and full of life; her personality only matched by her striking markings - she was bright bay with piercing blue eyes, black points and 4 white socks - and I fell in love on sight. For the next 3 years I spent hours bonding with the filly, teaching her manners in-hand to begin with, and slowly breaking her as she approached her 4th year.
- 1898
The crisp September air heralded the start of Autumn. Green leaves in the grounds faded to russet and brown, falling delicately into knee deep piles. Squirrels chattered from treetops, you could only catch glimpses of their brush tails before they bounded away. The changing season meant my birthday came around, complete with the usual lack of attention; it was widely ignored by the family as I was widely ignored as a rule. It came as a shock therefore, when the lady of the manor approached me in one of the many corridors, to wish me a happy seventeenth, complete with a saccharine smile, and to tell me that I was needed in the drawing room. “and for the love of god wear a dress,” she had added waspishly - the soft demeanour slipping.
I didn’t own that many dresses, opting for shirts and breeches most of the time, and so I was left with only the choice of a gaudy rose pink affair or a deep green silk that was scandalously low cut. Unwilling to pass on the chance to annoy, I opted with the green, sweeping my hair back into a simple knot, adorned with small silver pins and a pendant at my throat as ever. It had been my mother’s, and I refused to take it off since it falling into my possession. “Stay here Piglet my darling.” the terrier wagged her furry little tail and leapt onto the bed, challenging me to move her.
My shoes made little noise on the polished tiles as I moved toward the drawing room doors, hesitating as I opened it, a flutter of nerves in my abdomen. A man in his late forties stood up as I shyly moved into the room; all my confidence and bravado leaving me as I left the comfort of my own company. his eyes lingered on my body for too long, raking over the artificial curves the corseted gown created, my exposed clavicle and the delicate sweep of my neck and jaw. “Vesta, this is Mr Edwards. You are to be wed to him in the comings weeks.” “No.” I wasn’t sure if I’d heard it correctly to begin with, the refusal leaving my mouth before my brain even registered what was happening. A delighted smile was plastered on my stepmothers face; thrilled to be getting shot of the young woman who reminded her husband every day of the love he had lost, whom she would never compare to in his eyes. “I’m not marrying you. I don’t intend to marry. I do not wish to marry anyone, but most definitely not you.” He once again dragged his gaze down my body, and told me in no more words that it simply wasn’t my choice, my parents had made it for me and I would be leaving the manor as soon as we were wed. Panic welled up in my breast, and I stalked from the room and ran to the grounds, cursing the impracticality of a dress the whole time. It was leant on the wall of Bonnie’s stable, absent mindedly playing with a blade of hay that I saw my way out, saw the door of my cage open ever so slightly. “You know what, girl? I do believe our time here to be coming to an end, one way or another, and yet i don’t think i’ll be leaving the way any of them expect.” I spoke to the horse as though she may respond, and although the only reply I got was a prick of the ears and an affectionate head butt, it felt like the most I’d ever been listened to in my life.
Not a month prior, a train belonging to my father in america had been robbed; broken into and stripped of everything - he’d lost thousands and was furious: a Mr Van der Linde’s name being cursed daily. It seemed to me that perhaps Mr Van der Linde and I may have something in common: a shared lack of respect for the upper class? Or a personal vendetta against the family? All I really knew at that time was that if I could somehow contact this man, I may have someone to run to.
A week elapsed, and somehow, through pure chance and luck of the universe, I had a vague idea of where Dutch Van der Linde may be. I wasn’t stupid enough to belive that I would instantly find him, and for him to accept me into his “gang” with open arms, but if I could just find him and explain why I was there, maybe I would have a shot at starting over. A train ticket was easy enough to acquire, and I secured my place on a ship to america with little difficulty as well, even finding one that allowed me to bring Bonnie, the prospect of leaving her broke my heart - and the terrier that had been my faithful companion for so long as well.
-
Dawn. Silver beads of dew clung to every blade of grass, condensing in the cool air before running to the earth. The tiny wren and humble blackbird joined the dawn chorus, finches and tits lining the steadily emptying branches whilst singing their merry tunes. Life in the grounds was also stirring, stable hands and gardeners milling around; their tasks for the day stretching out before them. It meant that while dressed in a similar garb to a groom we went unnoticed as we rode through the estate, the terrier hidden completely in the long grass. She would snap occasionally at the insects taking flight, or stalking the frequent rabbits peeping out of their warrens. It also meant that most were too busy to see the bulging saddlebags attached to my horse, or the handguns holstered at my thighs. I kicked Bonnie into a faster canter as the imposing boundary walls came into view; moving as fast as we could toward the freedom I fancied I could almost smell.
Time seemed to pass differently as I trotted through the country lanes, my thoughts filled with images of the west: cowboys, outlaws, buffalo and saloons - an intoxicating mix of roughness and freedom that I ardently longed for. I barely noticed that I was at the town, even less that I was perilously close to missing my train. Rushing, I managed to get bonnie into the livestock carriage of the locomotive, and myself into a compartment that was empty before the train slowly left the station, and I took the first step away from home. English countryside blurred as the train picked up speed, yet I felt as though I had to take in every dry stone wall and rolling hillside; it was the last time I would see my home soil, and for all I had had a less than pleasant upbringing, the moors and heathland itself had offered me solace and chance to breathe. I felt tears threaten to spill from my eyes, blurring the landscape further, and I clamped my lips together harshly to hold them from scalding my face - this was no time to cry, I remember chastising myself.
I could see bustle of Liverpool docks from the carriage windows in little time, causing my heart to thump with excitement and a flash of nerves to hit me when I spotted the liner that would be carrying me to America. I shivered, blinked a few times at the bright sunshine and pungent smell of tar, kerosene and wrinkled my noise at the tang of the ocean. A familiar squeal caught my attention and I turned in the direction of it to see two men struggling with Bonnie, my golden-brown horse rearing and threatening to kick out. “Here, I’ve got her,” I had rushed over to the men, who handed me the horse gratefully once I’d flashed my identification to prove the mare was mine. “Easy now, girl, i’m here.” I liked to think the horse settled a little, when in reality she still eyed up every man, horse and boat, displaying no signs of being any calmer.
The liner called for passengers to begin boarding, asking for those on horseback to come on before those on foot. I felt another kick of nerves, but clicked Bonnie forward onto the boarding bridge and on into the boat itself. Her stall was clearly marked and I felt easy enough leaving her there, happily munching on a hay net. The stable hand reassured me that the mare would be exercised every other day, and I would be able to visit her whenever I pleased. I’d hidden Piglet in my luggage, selfishly wanting my angel as close as possible.
-
6 weeks passed, and a longer 6 weeks had never passed since for me. Yet they faded into nothing when I heard the age-old cry of “land ho!” and could see American soil at last.
Bonnie took a lot of reassurance to walk down the bridge into Blackwater port, taking against the shouting of workers on the ground and the sounds of building work in Blackwater itself. Once we were off the boat, I made a beeline for the bank, with Bonnie looking sideways at every person, horse and inanimate object that had the audacity to move in her direction. I recalled the architecture of Blackwater being so much less ornate than even the most basic of English homes. The buildings were boxes, from that which I could see, no detailing on the facade or patterning to the brickwork. I hitched up outside the bank and walked in, giving the bank teller my warmest smile and hoping that I looked old enough to be withdrawing such a huge sum of money. I answered the teller’s questions with as much confidence as I could muster.
“(L/N). Yes, here’s the key. Yeah. All of it please.” The teller obliged me without question thankfully and I stowed it all into my satchel while still within the bank, unwilling to let anyone see the depth of my wealth.
“Armadillo then my girl.” I spoke gently to her, setting off down the dusty trail to the small town around 20 miles from Blackwater. Piglet barked happily as we broke into a canter, running alongside us until she tired, me slowing bonnie when she did.
It struck me as we rode that everyone around me was much more heavily armed than I was, my twin browning m1900’s seeming lonely without a repeater or rifle backing them up. “Seems to me like we may have a little stealing to do.” I remarked, vaguely talking to Bonnie and more speaking out to myself, a dreadful habit one picks up from spending too long in one’s own company.
We set up a small camp a few miles from Blackwater, not wanting to push too far on the first day and frankly I was slightly overwhelmed by how different it was from the sleepy rural setting of my home estate. The first ball of tumbleweed that had crossed our path had set Bonnie rearing, the mare presuming it to be alive, and Piglet tearing after it, engaging the “quarry” in a chase. The arid desert daunted me somewhat, I didn’t like that sand stretched as far as the eye could see, only broken by towering rock formations and train tracks extending into the distance. It felt lonely and inhospitable.
I composed a letter by the light of the fire, using a page torn from my journal and a pen I had taken from my father's study, struggling to word it and frequently finding myself gazing into the darkening night, unable to find the right words. Once I was reasonably happy with it, I addressed it to “Tacitus Kilgore” an alias I had heard rumours of, used by Van der Linde for mail, and stowed it in my satchel to send the next day. It embarrassed me that I hadn’t fed my girl all day, and so tossed an oatcake and a chunk of carrot to where she was tethered to a broken tree stump, and tore a hunk of bread off for myself to eat with the ration of meat I had bought in blackwater earlier, and downed it with a bottle of beer. Warm, sleepy, and full, I lay back onto the bedroll and watched the stars, the only unchanged sight I had come across. Lulled by the blissful familiarity, I fell into a dreamless sleep, the howling of the coyotes waking neither me nor the dog curled into my side.
-
The road to Armadillo was quiet, all sounds muffled in the canyon Bonnie was steadily carrying me through. I soaked up the warmth of the blazing sunshine with a contented sigh, and it came as a welcome surprise when I saw a speck on the horizon moving toward me. It crossed my mind that this may be the only person I would see until I reached the town, where a hold up would be much more conspicuous and a sure-fire ticket to jail. I just hoped they had what I needed. The speck turned into the clear shape of a horse, large and quite heavily built from what I would see, with a rider who looked to be male. The horse came further into view and I decided that it was a war horse of some sort, a Hungarian Nonius perhaps, dark brown with a creamy mane and tail, and the rider had two guns strapped to his back.
I dismounted bonnie and set her a little off the road, and pulling a face mask on, I stood in the middle of it - pistols drawn and loaded. The rider pulled his horse to a halt in front of me. “You mind movin’, doll? Got places to be.” That voice. It was a drawl, incredibly attractive and dripping with arrogance. I glanced up at his face to see that he was disarmingly beautiful: a sharp jaw and high cheekbones, dark eyes framed by long eyelashes and jaw length raven black hair. Easily the most perfect man I had, and ever would, have the fortune to come across. “No can do I'm afraid. This is a robbery.” My voice was crisp and I patted myself on the back internally for not wavering or backing down. “Off your horse. Now.” I pointed one gun at him, motioning with the other for him to dismount and move to the side. I think would have sounded awfully threatening if my ever-useful dog hadn’t, for lack of a better word, wiggled, over to the man and started licking his hands. “Pig!” I hissed, sharply beckoning piglet with my head. I continued the holdup. “Guns on the floor. Then hands up, handsome, where i can see them.” My anonymity gave me an unexpected wave of confidence that I never had otherwise, and my voice had taken on a slightly flirting tone. I went and picked up his rifle, admiring it in my hands for a moment then strapped it to my back, and took his revolver to toss it back toward him. Unable to walk away from the horse, I went over and offered it a peppermint from my pocket, letting it snuffle in my pants after finishing to try and find another. “You are aware I'm still her ain’t you?” The man’s voice turned my head and I whistled bonnie back to mount her, his rifle the only thing I had actually taken. “Er- thank you,” I spoke nervously, pleased that he had put up little fight, and seemed amused rather than angry. “‘M john!” he called after me as we cantered away. “Probably better you don’t know who I am, isn’t it?” I questioned back at him finishing by throwing him a mocking salute.
A few days passed and I made good use of John’s rifle, taking a pronghorn down and living off of the meat until I could reach another shop. I had posted the letter and having stayed near the post office for a night or two, had received a reply to meet Dutch in Armadillo saloon the next day. Bonnie was fresher than normal after having had two days wandering in the heat while we waited for the letter and while I continued to acclimatise myself to the environment. It was a cooler day when we approached Armadillo, meaning I allowed the horse to really go - a fast canter that moved to a gallop within seconds and set the wind racing through my hair. It was with a great amount of reluctance that bonnie returned to a walk through Armadillo’s empty streets, and with even more reluctance that she halted to be tethered outside the saloon.
I took a deep, steadying breath. My new life was within grasp, all I had to do was not fuck this up. I pushed though the doors, hiding my wince as the smell of stale alcohol filled my nostrils. The bar seemed like a good place to start; while I really didn’t want to be hammered, a little dutch courage wouldn’t hurt me in the slightest. “A whiskey, please.” I ordered while pulling the change from my pockets, forcing a small laugh at the bartenders joke about me looking too young to drink. I downed the shot in one go while telling myself that the burn as it slid down my throat was nice. A man in a red waistcoat caught my eye, and he noticed me starting eerily quickly, beckoning me over with a move of his head. He was with two other men: one older looking who had warm eyes, I thought, and another who seemed to be more battle worn, but smiled at me nonetheless. “Y/N L/N?” the red waist coated man asked. I nodded with a small smile and recognised him as Dutch van der Linde from the bounty posters that my father had acquired. “You’re a little smaller than i expected-” he began, before the older man cut him off. “That’s a fine weapon,” he remarked with a twinkling grin, and although a little confused, I replied that I had grown fond of it, but admitted that it wasn’t technically mine. “Ya stole it?” the other man asked, to which I grinned and inclined my head. The men then introduced themselves: the older man was Hosea Matthews, the younger Arthur Morgan, both of who’s hands I shook, Dutch's too. Dutch spoke again, holding my letter in his hand and wondering aloud why a fine young woman such as myself had fled England without a word and was so desperate to become an outlaw in his gang. I quirked my brows and drew in a breath, telling him my whole sorry tale, ending it by drawing the money from my bag and placing it on the table before them. “I was cut from the will, for refusing to marry that old man. But my father had started an account for my mother before she died that i found the key for. This is all of it.” Hosea was already counting the money, his brows creeping further up his head with every note he found. “This is over 10,000 dollars.” he talked only to dutch at that moment. I began to explain that I wasn’t trying to buy myself into the gang, that I could shoot, hunt, scam, and was excellent with horses, to which Arthur paused me to explain that no one thought I was, giving me a short smile and pouring me another whiskey. We were the only people in the saloon, so when the doors creaked open for a second time it drew our gaze to the man entering the room. “Ahh, Marston!” Dutch called to him and beckoned him over. “This is our newest addition, not much younger than you my son.” I frowned a little, then a wide smile cracked my face in two as his words sunk in. A relieved laugh left my lips unchecked and I thanked the men happily. My voice must have seemed familiar to Marston, who had been looking to Arthur to gauge his reaction, because he looked at me for the first time. I raised my head too, curious to see who this younger man was. We both froze as our eyes met. “Hello again, darlin’.”
A look of disgust passed over Arthur's face. “Please tell me y’all haven’t...” he trailed off. “I’m - sorry?” I offered, moving to pull the rifle from my back. John laughed at me, telling me I could keep it if I wanted, he’d already replaced it. I stuck out my hand, which he grasped firmly, hands warm and calloused against my skin. “Y/N L/N.” “John Marston, for the second time.” He shot me a wink as he said it, and I looked away, embarrassed. Dutch broke the following silence, asking what the hell just happened and why I was giving him a rifle? John answered before I could, looking slightly pink in the face as he told them that I had robbed him few days earlier. All three men erupted into uproarious laughter, Dutch giving me an approving look that sparked a warm glow of pride within me: I hadn’t had approval or praise like that for the past 12 years.
chapter one + colter next :))
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inserttemptitlehere · 4 years
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An unasked for “moderate” take on TERFs v Trans rights
Nobody asked, I might get cancelled for this (probably by both sides), and honestly I don’t have much belief that this will even be read by many people. But it’s frustrating seeing people being condemned for reasonable fears and requests and I just feel the need to put my opinions out into the ether just to have them out there and so I can stop dwelling on them every time I see stuff like this happen again. 
Like, I just want to slap all the TERFs that purposefully misgender people and spout transphobic rhetoric. And I want to shake everyone who labels anything that complains about misogyny specific to cis women as TERF-y. God.
It seems like many “TERFs” are not actively malicious (although many definitely are), but are merely women who’ve been sexually assaulted or just been ground down by the patriarchy and are understandably (although not necessarily justifiably) scared/upset at the thought of any person with a male body coming into their safe spaces or into their fought for institutions. Whereas most trans people just want to live their lives and be accepted as the gender they identify as without wanting to cause any harm to anyone (although again, there are some they definitely do). 
I personally found much of JK Rowling’s recent essay to be fear mongering, but given that she suffered abuse from her husband I could understand and sympathize with why she had those fears even though I disagree with her conclusions about the actions society/government should take regarding them. I honestly just feel sad for her. I feel sad that the experiences she’s been through have made her so scared. I feel sad that despite the millions of dollars she’s donated to charity and work she’s done to make the world a better place she has now hurt so many people and this action will be what she’s remembered for. I feel sad that the extremely angry responses she’s gotten will most likely only solidify her fear and perpetuate her actions that will most likely cause more hurt for more people.
I’ll also say that her original tweet that sparked it all was valid! It is dehumanizing to reduce people to their genitals (ironically something people say TERFs do) and it erases the fact that almost all of these people are targeted because they are women. And it feels somewhat sexist as I’ve never seen an article refer to a certain group as “penis havers” or “semen producers”. I can, however, still see how it would be exclusive however to only refer to “people who menstruate” as “women”. A better wording would’ve been “women and trans men”. Because then no one would be left out. And don’t @ me about that somehow leaving out ‘trans women’, because guess what, there are cis women who don’t menstruate! If we can recognize that “Not all men” is a bad take, why on earth are we accepting “Not all women” as a correct one?
Look, not all cis women menstruate. Not all cis women can or do become pregnant. But we still label these as generic ‘women’s issues’ because they affect a large portion of women. But it should go both ways! I believe that makes the gross femininity trans women need to perform to qualify for hormones a ‘women’s issue’ and the difficulty of getting insurance to cover said hormones a ‘women’s issue’. Because they’re issues that affects a large portion of women. Heck, I know most Transmen find the fact that some TERFs include them in their feminism irritating, but I’m also fine with including specific issues affecting the ones that don’t feel that way as ‘feminist issues’.
I am 100% against misgendering people, am 100% supportive of including trans women’s specific issues as part of the overall fight to help women, and I will happily state “transwomen are women”. But, I do agree that there are a handful of cis women spaces/institutions that it becomes morally grey to accept transwomen into without any sort of provisions. Especially given the fact that if there were absolutely zero strings attached to legally identifying a certain way, then there are definitely cis people who would abuse the system. Personally, I don’t think we should completely structure our society based on these fears - although I can again understand the people who have not had as privileged of a life as I have feeling differently (even if I ultimately disagree with them).
Anyway my take on said spaces/institutions:
Bathrooms: Single parents of opposite sexed kids already use the opposite gendered bathroom to teach them how to use it (and should be allowed to). If a cis man wants to rape you in a bathroom that you’re alone in, I don’t think the societal norms are really going to stop him. And since trans people just want to use the bathroom in peace, let them. Maybe it’s because I’ve never felt comfortable peeing in public and thus never felt the bathroom to be a ‘safe space’, but I’ve never understood the argument against this.
Changing rooms: Go where you identify. If you start acting like a creep, then there should be some course of action to either get you banned or limit your access to said changing room. That policy should hold for cis or trans people.
Women’s support groups: Already made my opinion on this clear I hope. Although I will say that if talk about certain genitalia/bodily functions is triggering, it’s not right to shut down all discussion regarding those things for the other people there. Instead we should have, you know, trigger warnings so that everyone can either prepare themselves accordingly or leave the room and no one is triggered or feels like they are unable to talk about their issues.
Rape shelters: It is 100% valid for a cis woman that was a victim of rape to not want to share their space with someone with a working penis. If there is absolutely nothing that can be done to make said person feel safe, then it should be the right of the shelter to refuse long term stay to the person causing that issue (through no fault of their own) - although the shelter should do everything it can to make sure the trans woman has a place to stay/go. On the other hand, if a trans woman was already there before such a victim, it would not be right to toss out the trans woman to grant access to the cis woman who has the problem with them.
Sports: I personally don’t know enough of the science behind it, but it seems to me that bare minimum they shouldn’t be allowed to compete without doing hormone therapy. And even then the skeletal differences and remaining hormonal differences may still prevent things from being reasonably fair (although I wouldn’t know). It’s definitely not fair to let a trans person pre-hormones compete on the team their gender matches with. Honestly, in an ideal world we’d somehow have an objective way to sort sports into co-ed groups based on athletic ability similar to how weight classes work for wrestling.
Prisons: Non violent crime? Go where you identify. Violent crime? Sorry, gotta go based on your sex (unless you’ve had bottom surgery). It is immoral to lock a convicted rapist with a penis in a cell with women who have no way of getting away from them. I mean, maybe we could have ‘wings’ for trans people so they could go to the prison they identify as and they’d just have separate cells. But until that becomes the norm, the few violent trans criminals should not be allowed to go where they identify.
Kids: Not an institution, but definitely a hot topic. Personally, I think only puberty blockers until they hit adulthood and extensive therapy to make sure that they are in fact trans. Admittedly JK Rowling’s essay about this bit sounded a bit like, “The spooky trans cult is coming for your neurodivergent and gay children!” But it did have small feeling of truth to it as well. As a GNC, cis, autistic woman who had dysphoria as a teen I also worry that I might have been incorrectly diagnosed as trans if I’d been born later. But I don’t think it’s something we as a society need to be extremely worried about or use as an excuse to make things harder on trans kids and adults. We just need to make sure that kids get the therapy they need to sort out whether they’re trans or just having the common dysphoria you have as a teen and chafing against gender roles. We can rubber stamp adults if they want, it’s only kids that should have to go through some minor hoops.
Finally, on being “Gender Critical”. I have to say, the idea of smashing the concept of gender and everybody just living as they are with no societal expectations for them to be one way or another based loosely on their biological sex sounds wonderful. I’m just upset that so many who support this concept are so transphobic because technically in that future there would be no ‘trans’ people (except those that suffer dysphoria) and they feel this gives them the right to act horribly towards trans people. I did recently talk to some TRAs who explained to me that, unlike ‘Gender Critical’ proponents, their ‘gender’ model is split into multiple components. That you’ve got your biological sex (your parts), your gender identity (what you feel you are), your gender presentation (how you dress and act), and gender roles (how society expects you to act based on your gender). So it seems to me, that we can still reach a version of that wonderful future that doesn’t erase people. Smashing gender roles and the idea that there is a ‘correct’ way to present as a gender would achieve ‘female liberation’ while still allowing for people who still desire to identify a certain way. We shouldn’t completely do away with gender, just the things that society expects from it. 
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“And They Were Soulmates?” - Reddie
I’m rewriting this into a Reddie Oneshot.
Warnings: swearing, slight homophobia mentions
Requests are open.———————————————————————
After the phone call with Mike, Eddie immediately looks down at his wrist, not really caring about how bad his car is. He can’t remember why his wrist is so important but it must’ve been a long time ago. Much like the cut section of his cast that he refused to part with. Eddie is finally brought back to his senses by someone tapping his shoulder, “I need your details, for insurance purposes,” the man who was driving the taxi, says.
“Oh right, yes of course,” Eddie replies. He eventually looks at the damage he had caused only minutes ago, both inner sides of the cars are smashed. “Fuck!”
“Yeah, ‘fuck’ indeed.” Eddie quickly gave the law-abiding driver, his details and walked to the subway, not wanting to watch his SUV get towed away. The closer he gets to the subway, the more he thinks about Myra. She was going to take him to the emergency room for sure, ‘you may have a concussion, Eddie-bear’. Eddie shudders at the thought.
His eyes flick to his wrist as it heats up, it’s only in a small spot, centred on the side, in line with his pinky. Why doe it burn? Why does he remember it burning 24 years ago?
****
He walks up the stairs from the station and makes a beeline for the apartment complex that was just up the road. It’s like a sprint, almost like he’s desperate to get in and out and back into the ‘safety’ of Derry, his home, the place he loved?
Eddie stops, he looks up at the stairs, leading to his apartment, he can’t bring himself to walk up the stair. He feels as though someone was keeping him grounded, unable to move from his spot on the sidewalk. Derry? Home. Derry? Richie. Richie? Why does that name sound so familiar? 
Small memories started to file in and Eddie knows he has to go back, he has to go back for Richie. Richie? There it is again! 
“Eddie-bear! There you are!” Myra exclaims joyfully as she embraces her husband. “I thought you left me!”
“Now why would I do that?” Eddie replies, he tries to die down his obvious fake tone and must’ve been successful as Myra skips away to the kitchen. “Um, Myra, I have a work conference that I must go to tomorrow. It’s two hours out and is only going on for a few days.”
“Okay! I’ll come!” 
“No!” It comes out harsher than he intended, and both wince. “No, it’s only workers, it’s just me and two other men going.” Myra sighs and nods. “I’ll need to leave in like two hours.” He hates it when she does this, it was almost like she hated the idea of him leaving. How he didn’t pick up on it soon, he didn’t know. It’s a smothering type of relationship and he can’t take it but he doesn’t want to hurt her.
“Oh, but I made your favourite.” The pungent smell of burnt spaghetti bolognese gets stronger and Myra removes the lid off the pot. Spaghetti? I never liked spaghetti but why do I like spaghetti?
He continues to think about his life choices since leaving Derry as he walks to the bedroom he shares with his wife. “Eddie Spaghetti.” Eddie mutters, “that’s why I always watch Trashmouth! He was my - “ Friend? No. Best friend? No. 
Two thoughts left and Eddie can’t bring himself to even think like that, so he shakes the thoughts. It’s impossible, he has a wife who he loves? Why am I fucking questioning this? 
He doesn’t bother to fold his clothes, just shoving everything he can into his suitcases. He grabs his toiletry bag and his old fanny pack that he hasn’t touched in 2 decades, still packed to the brim of old medication that he refuses to take. Just as he is about to walk out the door, he looks down at his hand. 
The wedding ring. 
He always thought it looked funny. It never sat right, it was slightly big but wasn’t big enough to fall off his finger. It was gold, he wanted a black silvery band but Myra wanted matching bands. Eddie always wanted to have sex but Myra always claimed it was dirty and a “sin”, even though they are married. How would we even reproduce? Eddie often wondered, he always thought about having kids. 
“I’m sorry,” Eddie mutters and leaves his ring on the side table as well as a quickly scribbled note and finally drags his two suitcases down the hall and out the front to hail a taxi.
***
The flight over, Eddie has time to rethink everything. He pulls open his laptop and quickly sends a few emails regarding divorce and needing to update some forms. It may be too soon but Eddie knows that it isn’t. As he tries to think back to that Summer 27 years ago, he remembers yelling at his mother. Everything that Myra had done, it wasn’t healthy and Eddie laughs quietly to himself. I married my fucking mother! 
The drugs and the little cuts and bruises and believing he needs to go to the hospital for stitches and medications to stop the bruises from forming. Leaving his mother in Derry made him forget everything he had done to prevent from being a hypochondriac and now he still is. He isn’t sick, he gets that, he never had asthma or weird illnesses that he had never heard of. 
He opens Netflix and plugs in his headphones, he searches for Richie Tozier’s Netflix Special. Even though there’s only an hour left in the 2-hour flight, he still plays it. It’s obvious from the start that the jokes aren’t his, they were homophobic and nowhere near as dirty as they used to be. The humour was restrained and dry, only heckles and coughs were heard, no applause or laughs. It breaks Eddie’s heart, he isn’t sure why. 
Sure he remembers the Losers and they had a friendship, a strong bond held by IT and bullying by Bowers’ gang, but Stan and Bill were two out of his three closest friends. Richie seems different and Eddie can’t put his finger on it. He tries to dig in his mind, staring at Richie’s tall figure on stage. 
Richie was a comedian back in the day, think Eddie, what makes this so different to when we were kids?
“Would you like one from me too, Mrs K?” Richie had asked just before he, Eddie and Bill had gone somewhere, the Barrens? Sewer?
Crap!
Richie always made Eddie the butt of the joke or made dick jokes. 
The burning on his wrist reappears, this time the skin where it burns starts to turn red. Eddie immediately covers it, trying to conceal the area from the open. It didn’t hurt this much the last time, Eddie recalls, it must have something to do with Derry.
****
As he drives past the ‘Welcome to Derry’ sign, the hairs on his neck stand up straight, goosebumps start to rise on his arms. The strange and uncomfortable feeling of being watched looms over him, he passes the cemetery, almost veering off the road as he catches a glimpse of a fluffy red hair and a white clown suit. “It’s just your mind playing tricks on you, Eds.” Eddie tries to reason with himself. “I hate being called that.” It rolls off his tongue, just like ‘Eds’. 
Who called me that? I liked it though but said I hated it. 
Hatred and frustration washes over him, he doesn’t want to be back in the homophobic town. He couldn’t, even as an adult, he didn’t want to fathom what the town would do if they found out he was gay. 
Gay?
Crap!
No wonder why his marriage felt loveless, he wasn’t attracted to her! Or women in general. He was and still is attracted to men, well one man ... Richard Tozier.
*
He finally makes it to the Chinese restaurant but stays in his car for a few minutes to compose himself, not wanting to have a full-on panic attack during dinner. Aside from the killer clown returning to Derry, it was meant to be a happy reunion, a way to catch up with the other 6 survivors of Pennywise. 
Eddie huffs and pulls himself out of his car and carries himself towards the restaurant. “Reservation for Michael Hanlon,” Eddie says to the waitress, who then leads him to a reserved table where two familiar faces stand. “Mike? Bill?” 
“Eddie!?” Mike exclaims, racing over and hugging Eddie, Bill kind of stands awkwardly. 
“Bill!” Eddie exclaims and hugs the horror writer. 
*
Not even 10 minutes later, 3 others walk in and a gong goes off. Eddie catches the eye of the tall comedian, he watches the dark curls falling over the glasses, the way his jack clung to his broad shoulders. The burning sensation, that Eddie has been experiencing for the past day, starts to burn deeper and Eddie sees his skin form black bold letters. As he looked down, black inked appeared, ‘R.T’ was written. 
Did I ever tell Richie? Or did I cover it up like I did with my sexuality?
“Did your soulmate’s initials fade when you left too?” Beverly asks as they all sat down to eat.
“Mine just came back,” Eddie replies. “It started burning when I got the call from Mike.”
“Mine never left, still says S.U,” Mike replies. Mike knows that Stan was happily married to Patricia and would never want to get in between them, sure he may never find anyone else but he likes being alone, in that sense at least. He loves having friends but doesn’t mind being alone relationship wise.
“Did you ever tell Stan!?” Bill asks and Mike shook his head. “Well, I got my soulmate.” That meant that Bill and Audra ... ? Eddie feels himself deflating.
“Mine faded too,” Ben says.
“Same,” Richie finally says just as he winces in pain and looks down at his wrist. “Shit.”
“Show us, boys!” Bev pipes up reaching over at both Eddie and Richie. Richie shrugged and reached over to Bev, Eddie followed. “OH MY GOD! Guys!” Ben, Mike and Bill gathers around Bev and looked between Eddie and Richie’s wrists. 
“OH DAMN!” Ben squeals and clamps a hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Richie grabs Eddie’s wrist, his eyes widen.
“Eds ...” Richie whispers. Eddie shakes his head as a warning and flips Richie’s wrist round he looks down at his wrist and sees the ‘E.K’. 
This shouldn’t be possible, his mother always told him that you couldn’t get an initial for someone of the same gender. Then again, she and the majority of the town were homophobic. Those thoughts are out of date now, being part of the LGBTQ+ community is accepted now, Eddie should have no fear. His mother is dead and he is planning at finally divorcing his wife.
Eddie looks into Richie’s eyes and remembers all the good times the two had shared. It was a type of love that Eddie never got from his mother or Myra, it wasn’t forced and he was able to be who he wanted to be. He could be a normal teenager who shouldn’t need to be scared of any health risks. 
All the times Richie climbed in through his window, all the times he had snuck in through Richie’s window. The hammock? The hammock, he used to argue with Richie just so he could squeeze into the hammock with him.
“I’m still married, Richie. Until the divorce papers go through,” Eddie whispers. Richie didn’t seem to care and still kissed Eddie; both had waited 27 years for this to happen and didn’t want to wait any longer.
“Eds, I fucked your mom,” Richie whispers against Eddie’s soft and now swollen pink lips.
“BEEP, FUCKING BEEP, RICHARD!” Eddie groans. “Of course you had to ruin it!” 
“I’m not even sorry, Eddie Spaghetti.”
That’s why he ‘likes’ spaghetti! One of the many nicknames that Richie gave him. ‘Eds’ he secretly loved but if he said anything, the others would call him that. ‘Eddie Spaghetti’ he absolutely hated! It was cringy and annoying, it was a means of Richie calling him cute and pinching his cheeks.
“Don’t call me that.” Eddie says. “You know i hate it when you call me that.”
“How about ‘babe’, Eduardo?” Eddie blushes, he couldn’t help it. There’s a fire inside of him that he hasn’t felt in almost 30 years and he loves it.
Eddie puts his arm up on the table, signalling for an arm wrestle. “Just like the old days.” Eddie whispers.
“Amen to that.” Richie chuckles. Their competitiveness never left, both needing to assert dominance. It had been like that for years and now was no different.
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empyreanwritings · 5 years
Text
Safe House
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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female!Reader
Word Count: 3.6k 
Warnings: a smidge of angst and some sexual themes/situations
Request:  Hi! Can you do a tasha × fem reader where kinda like in age of Ultron the team needs a place to lie low and so they show up at tasha and readers house and tasha is like guys this is (y/n). And tony is like this is your FREIND! (Y/n)! How nice! And everyone else just looks at him like wtf no they are obvi together and he's just like nahhhhhh. Until morning and they are basically having sex on the counter and reveal! Pregnant! Maybe? Thank you
This was tweaked a little bit, but I hope you still enjoy it! Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! (: x
Tony and Steve shared a look as they followed Clint and Nat to a farm house. They had never been to the area before, and they were unsure how exactly those two knew where to find this place. The only logical answer was that it was a safe house. But why had they been so secretive about it before?
When Steve initially brought up needing a place to lie low while Thor looked for answers, Nat had openly refused the idea of coming here. Clint had been the one to convince her after a lot of arguing. Obviously, this place meant something special to her, but she gave no indication as to why. Even now, she still wasn't happy about this arrangement.
The farm house was a decent size - two story with a beautiful wrap around porch. The paint was slightly chipped on the exterior, but everything else seemed kept up with. Trees surrounded the area, completely obscuring the view from the road. Unless someone knew where to look, they'd never know this place existed. It was peaceful. Quiet. Something the team needed after all their time spent in the city.
Nat pushed the door open slowly, peeking her head in first to make sure it was all clear. She waved in the three men and pointed them over to the living room. Clint had already made himself comfortable on the couch, but Steve and Tony weren't sure how to act. They shifted back and forth on their feet awkwardly until they heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Tasha?" The voice was light and full of excitement. "Is that you?"
Their eyes practically bulged out of their sockets when you rounded the corner. You had a bright smile on your face as you greeted Nat with a quick peck on the lips. The first they noticed was your incredibly swollen belly. You looked ready to pop at any second.
"I'm sorry I didn't call. There wasn't much time," Nat mumbled in your ear, and you shrugged. "Tony, Steve, this is Y/N my-"
"Roommate?" Tony interrupted. "Odd that you would want a pregnant roommate, but to each their own I guess. No judgement from me, Romanoff."
The room grew silent, and you could see the annoyance radiating off Nat. Her biggest pet peeve was when people would automatically assume you two were "just friends" or sisters. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal, but it was frustrating to constantly correct people and remind them that you were her wife. Her beautiful, witty, and occasional pain in the ass wife.
You placed your hand on Nat's arm, knowing it would instantly calm her attitude. "It's nice to meet you all. I've heard a lot about you guys, so it's nice to put names to faces. Is anyone hungry?"
"I am!" Clint piped in happily.
"Oh, are you?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "I've known you for how many years now, and you don't even bother to get up and say hi to me? You just sit on my couch and demand food?"
He quickly stood to rectify the situation, but you were already walking into the kitchen, pretending that he hurt your feelings. Nat smiled when he rushed after you with apologies pouring out of his mouth. It had been a few weeks since she saw you last, and it was beginning to hit her how badly she missed you.
"So," Tony cleared his throat, "How long have you and your. . .roommate been living together?"
"Tony." Steve's voice was quiet, trying to warn Tony that he was treading into dangerous territory.
"What? I'm just curious. I find it odd that we've never heard about her until now. I thought we were all closer than that. I have to say my feelings are a little hurt."
Nat rolled her eyes and decided against arguing with Tony today. After the stress they had been through today, she just wanted to enjoy your presence. She promptly turned on her heel and made her way into the kitchen where you were preparing for a stew you could throw into the slow cooker. It was easy and be enough to feed the three guests.
You silently hoped they didn't have large appetites because you really hated cooking to begin with. You didn't plan on making any more than you needed to.
Steve took a seat next to Clint at your table, while Tony opted to stay near the kitchen entryway. From the look on his face, you could see his thoughts were troubling him, which is why you didn't take his roommate comment to heart. He obviously wasn't fully himself. Something had happened to all of them the other day. You could see it in their weary faces. And even though she tried to play it off, you knew Nat had been affected as well.
"How far along are you?' Steve asked to try and fill the silence in the room.
You glanced back, offering him a warm smile. "I'm about seven months along now! I know that may seem surprising because of how big I am. I've been making jokes that I'm secretly having twins."
"Would that be such a bad thing?" Nat teased as she crouched in front of you and placed a tender kiss to your belly. She began cooing something that Steve couldn't quite make out, but it made his heart swell nonetheless.
He had never seen her be so soft. It was a touching surprise.
"It wouldn't be a bad thing, but we'd never get any sleep! I don't think my body couldn't handle it!"
The conversation seemed to flow easily after that. Steve asked questions about the baby and how you enjoy the farm house. He chose to stay away from personal territory like what you do for a living and how you met Nat because he knew she wouldn't like him knowing. She had kept you a secret for who knows how many years, and there was an obvious reason behind that: she wanted to keep you safe.
In their world loving someone was dangerous territory. They had to accept that at any moment they could lose them and that'd be it. No more love. No more happiness. It wasn't an easy life, and it was often spent very lonely.
He was surprised that Nat, of all people, allowed herself to be with you. She had so many covers and so many different identities, he didn't think she'd ever let herself be happy with someone like you. But that's why she was the one person who deserved it the most in this world. After everything she's been through, she deserved your love.
You noticed right away that Nat was quieter than the others during the entire conversation. She helped you prep the rolls to go with the stew and occasionally made a witty remark, but her mind seemed elsewhere. You wanted to ask her what was wrong, but you knew she'd never admit anything in front of the men. She was too prideful for that.
So, you popped the rolls in the oven and made a mental note to ask her about it later.
-----
The men offered to clean the kitchen since you made dinner, and you were not inclined to say no. Dishes were your least favorite chore, so if someone else wanted to do them, then who were you to deny them of that? They're your guests and should be free to do as they please!
You knew Clint knew your kitchen like the back of his hand, so you left him in charge and quietly slipped upstairs to your room. Nat had disappeared some time during dinner, and you had a feeling she had gone to take a shower. It was always the same with her; she'd come home, slightly bruised and emotionally drained, and stay in the shower for hours. It was her way of washing away her sins.
No matter how many times you tried to tell her that you'd never see her as tainted or evil, she couldn't let herself get into bed until she scrubbed her skin raw. You wished there was something you could do, but there wasn't. No words would make her feel better. All you could do was be there for her.
You smiled to yourself when you opened the door and saw her sitting on the end of your bed. Her hair was still dripping slightly, and she was wrapped in one of your robes. The way she was hunched over made her look so much smaller than she was.
It worried you.
"Hey," you whispered as you climbed onto the bed behind her. You wrapped your arms around her the best way you could with your belly in the way. But it doesn't last long.
Nat whirled around and gently pushed you back against the bed. Her eyes are filled with desperation, and you can't even begin to imagine the thoughts that are plaguing her. When she asked you to take off your dress, you don't even hesitate. You'd do anything to help her through her nightmares.  
Her breath hitched as she stared at you. You're in nothing but your panties. You're completely exposed, and she could have you any way that she wanted, but that's not why she wanted you naked. All she wanted was to be close to you.
She stripped the robe off her body and curled up against your side, her head resting on your chest. Her gaze fixated on fingers as they trailed along the top of your belly. You're both naked and exposed - baring your souls in two different ways. It's incredibly intimate in a way that you hadn't experience with her since you got pregnant, and you're relishing the moment. You knew she was too.
You kissed the top of her head. "What happened, Tasha? Why do you all seem so - so defeated?"
"There was a girl who could mess with our heads. Make us see our worst fears." As she spoke, you noticed the way her voice wavered like she was on the verge of tears. "I saw my past. The red room. Everything I did while I was there, but there was something different this time. I-"
She stopped herself. She didn't want to think about what she saw, but it crept up in the back of her mind. One of her targets she must kill for practice wasn't a random man with a bag over his head. It was you. You - with the sparkles in your eyes and your touching smile. You - with your swollen belly. It had been you, and she pulled the trigger anyways.
Nat trembled against your side, and you wrapped your arms around her instantly. You pretended not to notice the tears that dripped onto your skin from her eyes. You two had been together for so long, but Nat still felt too vulnerable when she cried in front of you. You respected her enough to act like you didn't feel it. The last thing you wanted was to push her away right now.
She needed you.
"I'm right here," you hummed into her hair. "I'm always going to be right here. This is our safe haven. You're safe."
A part of you wished you had some sort of super ability because you wanted to kick the crap out of whoever did this to her. You weren't a violent person. You could barely kill a spider if you saw one in your house, and you were terrified of spiders. But there was this sudden feeling that bubbled up in your chest, and you wished you could knock that girl's teeth in. She deserved it after the distress she caused your love.
"I love you. I love you," Nat whispered, almost to herself. She repeated the 'I love you's until she fell asleep in your arms.
You had a feeling you'd be stuck here the rest of the night, and you hoped that Clint would be able to figure out everyone's sleeping arrangements. And you really hoped the baby didn't choose this moment to squish your bladder.
You'd be really screwed then.
-----
You woke up to an empty bed, and your blanket was draped over you. The memory of yesterday suddenly popped into your head, and you remembered that there were three slightly damaged superheroes downstairs. You groaned and rolled out of bed slowly. You couldn't stay up here forever, and you probably had to make them breakfast.
Did any of them actually know how to work a toaster?
You changed into a pair of Nat's baggy sweatpants and an oversized sweater. With how big your belly had gotten, all you could wear lately was sweatpants and maternity dresses. You couldn't wait for your little squish to finally pop out, so you could start dressing like a normal person again.
Everyone was sat around the table when you finally made it downstairs. They were discussing their plan of action against Ultron. You had no idea who Ultron was, and you didn't really want to find out. You knew it would stress you out if you did. The idea of Nat chasing after another bad guy that managed to take all the Avengers down easily worried you. But what could you say? Don't go? You'd never make Nat choose. It wouldn't be fair.
"Good morning, princess!" Nat beamed up at you. She patted her lap, and you quickly made your way over to her.
She didn't flinch when you plopped down. You knew you were much heavier than you usually were, but she didn't seem to mind. She loved having an excuse to snuggle up with you.
"Did everyone eat breakfast?" You said through a small yawn. You nuzzled your face in the crook of her neck, and you could practically feel the smile she gave you. "I suck at eggs, but you know I make a mean French toast!"
"I made them eat cereal. I'm not going to make you cook for them when they're the ones that barged in on you."
You head snapped up, and you let out a small whine. "My cereal? My special cereal that I usually eat for dinner because that's what the baby wants? Is that the cereal you're talking about?"
Clint brought his coffee to his lips to hide the smile threatening to break out on his face. He remembered when Laura was pregnant, and he accidentally ate the last of her oatmeal cookies. She ended up making him sleep on the couch for three days. Pregnant women and their hormones. You really shouldn't mess with them.
"I promise I will buy you more cereal."
You could tell that she was trying not to laugh at your whining when she pressed a kiss to your cheek. You accepted defeat and cuddled back up with her, staying silent so they could finish their game plan talk.
The stress from the last few days seemed to melt away from Nat with you on her lap. She slipped her hands under your shirt and trailed her fingers along your spine. The warmth that radiated from you comforted her in ways that she couldn't describe. The longer she listened to Steve and Tony argue about the way they should approach this situation, the more she began to think about how she didn't want to be apart of this life anymore.
She was about to have a baby with you. She didn't want to jet across the world while you were raising him or her and miss important milestones. What if she was in Europe when they took their first step? What if she was tied up to a chair and in the middle of a cross-interrogation when they spoke their first word?
It wouldn't be fair to make you do this alone.
"I'll be right back," Nat mumbled to you.
You shifted into another seat, and you watched her rush back upstairs. You glanced over at Clint, who gave you a small shrug. Despite knowing her for as long as he had, Nat was still sort of a mystery to him. He couldn't read her the way he was sure you could.
"If you guys need to shower, our bathroom upstairs has wonderful pressure. Feel free to use it!" You shoot them all a bright smile before following Nat.
You caught her pacing in front of your bed. She was mumbling to herself and pulling at the roots of her hair. You had only seen her like this once before; it was when you first found out you were pregnant, and Nat was called out for an assignment that same night. She fought with herself over what she should do, she practically paced a hole into the floor.
You were the one that had to tell her that this was her duty, and she couldn’t back out on her duty. You had a feeling you were about to have a similar conversation now.
"Tasha baby? What's the matter?"
"I don't want to miss little squish's first steps!" Nat threw her hands into the air in exasperation. "I want him or her to know that I'm their other mother! I don't want to come home one day and hear, 'Mama, who's that stranger?' cause my heart will break."
"That’s not going to happen. You know that's now how it's going to happen."
She shook her head. "But what if it does? This is my first time seeing you in two weeks. What if two weeks turns into two months?"
"Well," you sighed, "I hope it doesn't turn into two months, but we'll make it work if we have to."
"Ask me to stay."
"What?" You almost choked on your spit at her words.
"Ask me to give up the life, and I will. I will in a heartbeat if you tell me that you want me to stay here with you."
You sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed at her hands to keep her from pacing again. The way she looked at you broke your heart. She seemed so conflicted on what the right thing to do was.
On one hand, she wanted to retire and live the rest of her life at peace with you here. But part of her felt like she didn't deserve that yet. She wanted a chance to clear the red from her ledger - and she thought trying to save the world would help with that. There were times where she caught herself thinking that you were too good for her. You were pure. Innocent. She never wanted the chance to corrupt you or the baby.
The worst part of it all was the more she tried to clear her past with different missions and assignments, the guilt of leaving you behind ruined the accomplished feeling at the end of every day. Saving the world meant nothing if you weren't there to tell her how proud you were of her.
She was, quite literally, stuck between a rock and a hard place, and she wanted you to finally give her an ultimatum.
You brought her hands up to your lips and kissed her knuckles. "You know I can't ask you to do that. That's not who I am, and that's not who you want me to be."
"I don't know what to do," Nat whimpered.
"I think you're stressed, and you can't make sound decisions when you are stressed." You stood slowly and rested your hands on her sides, just slightly under her shirt. "Why don't I help you relax, and then we can talk about this after?"
Goosebumps rose on her skin where your fingers brushed. The way you licked your lips was sinful. Since your belly got bigger, you hadn't really let Nat touch you in any way besides innocent. She hated it; she knew you were just insecure about your size. But seeing you look at her the way you were now made her realize how desperately she craved your touch. She needed you to ravish her in more ways than one.
Your lips found the sweet spot on her neck instantly, and she practically purred at your touch. You clouded every thought in her head. All she could focus on was our lips on her body and the intoxicating smell of your perfume. Every sense was filled with you and only you.
You pulled her shirt over her head, smirking when you saw she was not wearing a bra. You kissed down her neck to her collar bone than to the tops of her breasts. Her breathing was becoming ragged, and you knew you had her in the palm of your hand. You could do anything to her now, and you absolutely loved it.
"Oh! Oh my god!" Tony shouted as he quickly averted his eyes and slammed the door shut behind him. "This wasn't the bathroom. Got it."
Nat snorted. "Still think we're just roommates, Stark?"
You couldn't see him, but you had a feeling he was trying to claw his eyes out to get the image of your naked wife out of his head.
"Nope. Definitely not roommates."
You giggled. You should have felt guilty for letting one of Nat's teammates see her in that compromising position, but it was a little satisfying considering the way he acted when he first met you.
"Now, where were we?" You grabbed her chin gently and pulled her lips back to yours.
There was a lot that needed to be discussed. You could never ask Nat to give up her career, but if that's what she wanted to do, then you'd always support her. None of that needed to be talked about it now, though. You had two weeks of loneliness to make up for.
You were about to make sure she knew just how much you missed her.
Marvel Tags: @killcomet @stuckysheart @steampowerednightvaler @scarlettglowss 
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