#bless key and cap

[punkshort]

The Stranger

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor barges into your new apartment, turning your whole life upside down, then disappears just as quickly. Or does he?

Warnings: infidelity is mentioned (reader gets cheated on by OC), language, threats of violence, heavy making out and some sexy situations but no smut

WC: 3K

A/N: When I wrote this, I had still yet to see The Equalizer 2 but I wanted to write an assassin fic and Dave was just right there. So, for the sake of this story, Dave doesn't have a family and he has a cover job. K bye.

Written for @undercoverpena April Showers Challenge

Collection Masterlist

Sunday Night

The apartment was small and a little dirty, but it would do. It would have to. The choices were limited on such short notice, and beggars can't be choosers.

The last thing you thought you would be doing the night before you started your new job was unpacking what little belongings you had in the middle of a goddamn thunderstorm. In an ideal world, you would have waited to move in when the weather was expected to clear, but when you walked in on your boyfriend of four years naked in your bed with his ex-girlfriend only a week ago, you would have moved in the middle of a blizzard if you had to.

That was how you found yourself late Sunday night drenched in a mix of your own sweat and rain, unpacking the last of your clothes from wet cardboard boxes. Making your bedroom the priority was a must. The last thing you needed on top of everything else was wrinkled clothes and a bad night's sleep for your first day of work.

If only you knew what your night had in store.

You were just starting to unpack the boxes for your bathroom, cursing under your breath when you noticed the towels at the very top and bottom of said box were soaked in rain water, when you heard a pounding on your door so loud, you almost screamed.

Nobody even had your address yet. Too embarrassed to tell your friends what your boyfriend - ex-boyfriend - did, the only people who knew you were moving were your parents, and they certainly wouldn't be blessing you with a surprise visit on this side of town after dark.

Tip-toeing out of your bedroom, your hair a half-dry and tangled mess, you slowly crept towards your door. Just as you were about to peek through the peephole, you heard the deadbolt unlock and the door swung open, only to be stopped by a laughably weak, eight link chain.

"Alvarez, it's me, open up," a gruff voice said through the crack in the door. He sounded panicked, but at least it wasn't a home invasion. This man just didn't realize Mr. Alvarez was no longer here and he must have had a key.

Combing your hair back from your face, you tentatively stepped into the beam of light that stretched into your living room from the hallway. When you locked eyes with your stranger, all dark and mysterious, your throat constricted. You could only see part of his face, just one eye and half of his soft looking mouth, but your heart still fluttered a bit in your chest.

"Who are you?" he frowned, eyeing you up and down, and suddenly you felt incredibly self-conscious standing in your own apartment only wearing your white tank top and sleep shorts.

"Excuse me? I live here. Who are you?" you countered, crossing your arms defensively. The man scoffed and tried to get a better glimpse of your apartment, as if he were expecting another person to emerge.

"Where's Alvarez?"

At that point, you felt a little bad. If this man knew Mr. Alvarez well enough to have a key, what you were about to tell him would be devastating, so you sighed and motioned for him to step back.

"Let me undo the chain," you explained, and he paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on your chest before taking a step back and allowing you to close the door and slide the chain off. When you reopened it, you finally saw all of your mystery man. He was decked out in black: black ski cap, black leather gloves, black jeans and jacket, and he dripped rainwater from each article of clothing, creating a small puddle in the thin carpet right outside your door.

"I'm so sorry, but Mr. Alvarez passed away a few weeks ago," you said sympathetically, and while, in your experience, men tended to be less emotional, you didn't expect his response.

"Well that's just fucking great," he muttered, and for the first time you realized he was out of breath. Red flags began to pop up everywhere: the dark clothes, the indifferent response to a friend's death, the fucking hand hidden behind his back. How didn't you notice that before?

You went to quickly shut your door but his hand shot out and stopped you.

"I'm sorry, but I'm gonna need to come in," he said, and your eyes went wide. Your parents warned you this side of town was bad, but the very first night?

"No!" you protested, putting all your weight into pushing on your door, but he wedged himself so you couldn't close it.

"I left something in here and I need it," he explained through gritted teeth.

"Nothing was here when I moved in," you said, still pushing on the door, "I have my phone and I'm calling the police!"

It was a lie. You didn't have your phone. It was still charging on your bed, but you had hoped that would make the man leave. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect.

The door shoved open and you flew backwards, falling onto your back with a yelp, a sharp pain shooting up your spine.

The man entered your apartment and quickly shut the door behind him before glancing around.

"Are we alone?"

You scowled at him, about to lie, but you realized there was no point so you didn't say anything. He sighed and reached out an arm.

"I'm sorry," he said, and for the first time in your brief interaction, you heard some emotion in his voice. You stared hesitantly at his still wet, gloved hand before grabbing it and allowing him to pull you back up as you rubbed the back of your head with a wince. "You okay?" he asked, his brows furrowed and when you realized both his hands were visible, you relaxed a fraction.

"I think so. What the hell? Who are you?"

"I'm-"

He was about to explain when you both heard heavy footsteps running towards your door. In the blink of an eye, he reached forward and slid the chain back into the lock and deadbolted the door. There wasn't a second to spare because two fists began pounding heavily on the door from the other side.

You gasped softly and stepped backwards, eyes wide and filled with fear. That was when your mystery man pulled out the handgun from the back of his pants, silencer already attached, and your mind went blank.

This was how you were going to die.

"Open up!" a man's voice shouted from the other side as he began to kick at the door, making you jump. The intruder turned to you just as a rumble of thunder shook your building.

"You gotta make them leave."

"Me?" you whispered in a panic, "how do you expect me to do that?"

"They want me, and if they know I'm here, they'll kill me. Do you understand?" he asked, matching the volume of your voice while grabbing your shoulders.

Your lower lip began to tremble and he noticed.

"You can do this," he assured you, walking you backwards towards your bedroom as the shouting and pounding got louder. And as you stared into his deep brown eyes, you started to believe him. "I'm gonna hide and then you gotta tell them I'm not here. Can you do that?"

"If they just want you, why don't I just let them have you?" you asked as he continued to walk you backwards.

"Because they'll kill you, too," he said, his gaze never wavering. "These guys don't leave loose ends."

Fear shot through your body like the bolt of lightning outside your window.

Once he got to your bedroom, he released his grip on your shoulders and headed for your closet. He opened the accordion doors and pushed your clothes aside before sliding in against the wall.

"Just convince them I'm not here. You just moved in, you have no idea what they're talking about, okay?" he said, holding your gaze until you slowly nodded. Then he snapped the doors shut and shuffled your clothes around, leaving you all alone.

As you walked back towards your front door, you snagged a towel from the open box of bathroom stuff and wrapped it around your hair. You could do this. You had to.

You took a deep breath, your hand curling around the brass doorknob, and yanked it open, the chain still holding the door in place so you only saw a glimpse of the men in the hall, but you could see at least four.

"Can I help you?" you asked, trying your best to sound annoyed and not scared for your life. "You interrupted my shower," you added, pointing to your wrapped hair.

"Where is he?" the first man asked. His head was bald but you could see some stubble coming through, indicating he must shave his head.

"Who?" you asked innocently, and the man sneered.

"You know who."

"Actually, no I don't," you said, crossing your arms. "This is my apartment and I was enjoying a quiet night in before you arrived."

"Oh, yeah? You wear a men's shoe, size eleven?" the beefy looking guy asked, quirking an eyebrow as he stared down at the floor. Your eyes slowly drifted down and noticed a wet and dirty outline of your stranger's boot pressed firmly into the ancient beige carpet.

"No," you said, meeting his eye again. "But my boyfriend does. And he's out getting us dinner. We just moved in tonight," you told him confidently, squaring your shoulders and fucking praying the chain would hold if push came to shove.

You saw the men behind him exchange glances and shift their weight as they mulled over what you said. It was working. All you could hear was your own heart pounding loudly in your chest, the rain beating heavily against the glass windows of your living room, and in the distance, another soft rumble of thunder.

The bald man shot one more cursory glance into your apartment before meeting your eye.

"Must have the wrong unit."

You smirked.

"Honest mistake," you said, bravely holding his gaze as the group of them slowly ambled back towards the stairs. Once they were out of sight, you shut the door and twisted the lock, letting out a shaky breath. Your arms and legs were weak, head fuzzy from the adrenaline when you remembered a stranger was stuffed inside your closet.

Stumbling back towards your bedroom, you swung open the closet door, breath shallow and fast just to find him leaning up against the wall, a floorboard in your closet removed, revealing a now empty cash box, and holding up a piece of lingerie.

"For your boyfriend?" he questioned, and your fear quickly transformed into anger when you snatched it from his hand and tossed it on the floor next to his feet.

"Get the hell out of here," you told him, voice trembling.

He gave you a cocky smirk and pushed himself off the wall.

Gazing down at you, eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes, he lowly asked "got a towel I could use?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced your feet to move towards the open box in the middle of your room, snatching up a clean towel and tossing it to him before pulling your own towel from your head and dropping it by your feet.

You watched for a moment as he plucked the ski cap off his head, revealing a thicket of dark brown, wet hair and used the towel to help flick away the moisture. Then your eyes landed on his gun, now tucked into the front of his jeans.

His gaze followed yours and smirked, thinking you were looking at something else.

"See something you like?" he asked, making you blush.

You swallowed roughly and took a step back. "Are you going to kill me, now?"

His gaze softened and he dropped his towel next to yours.

"No."

You eyed him wearily, still not believing him until he took the gun from his pants and tossed it on your bed, a good five feet away, leaving you both defenseless.

"Better?" he asked, and you raked your eyes up and down his body.

"How do I know you don't have any other weapons on you?"

He grinned and took another step forward, his eyes darkening. "You wanna frisk me?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat and you looked away, but he pinched your chin, the leather soft against your skin, and tilted your head back in his direction.

"Tell me something," he murmured, his eyes boring into yours, "you really got a boyfriend coming back here?"

He could see your face fall and he instantly felt regret.

"No," you said softly, your eyes now pinned to the floor with shame, "we broke up. It's why I just moved in here."

He frowned as he studied your face. "Why did you break up?" he asked, his fingers still gripping your chin.

"Caught him cheating on me," you told him. Why could you tell this perfect stranger your deepest shame but you couldn't tell your best friends?

He tsked and inched a little closer. "He's a fucking idiot."

Your eyes snapped up to his in surprise, only to find desire and need reflected right back.

Before either of you could overthink it, your mouths crashed together, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck and his hands pulling at your waist, dragging you against him as you devoured one another. Your fingers raked through his still damp hair, his skin smelling like the rain and sweat and gunpowder, the combination intoxicating. His tongue slipped past your lips with a groan, his exhale coming in quick, hot puffs against your cheek as he walked you back toward your bedroom wall. Once your body made contact with the chipped paint, he reached down and snagged the backs of your thighs, wrapping your legs around him while his tongue swirled aggressively around yours.

When he ground his hips into you, his hardening length rubbing against the ache between your legs, you gasped and tipped your head back.

"I don't even know your name," you whispered as his lips traveled down your neck, nipping and biting playfully as he went, the rain sounding like little musical notes against your singular bedroom window. He just moaned against your skin, his teeth dragging lightly over your collarbone while you rolled your hips against him, desperately some seeking relief for the fire he started between your legs.

He yanked you from the wall, a small squeak of surprise slipping past your lips, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he carried you to your bed and dropped you down next to his gun. His assault on your neck never stopped. You arched your back, wishing he would take off those damn gloves so you could feel him when his phone suddenly trilled in his pocket. His lips stalled and you held your breath, each of you frozen in the moment wondering how you managed to find yourselves in such a compromising position so quickly.

"Shit," he whispered, reaching into his pants pocket, and you knew right then and there it was over.

He glanced at the screen and gave you an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," he said, pushing himself away from you and snatching up his gun and hat. "I gotta go."

You sat up on your bed and pressed your legs together, hoping your face didn't look as red as it felt.

Before he left, he glanced back at you, his eyes falling to your mouth, watching as your teeth sunk anxiously into your lower lip, chin bright red from the burn of his five o'clock shadow.

"Thank you," he said, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching at his side. And before you could respond, he disappeared with just a soft click of your door, making you wonder by morning if you had dreamed him up.

Monday

As expected, you hardly slept. Sleeping in a new place all on its own had its challenges, but after almost dying a handful of times within an hour, a good nights sleep was pretty much out of the question.

You don't know why you did it, but as you were getting ready for work, after a lukewarm shower, you foolishly grabbed the piece of lingerie your stranger discovered in your closet and put it on under your clothes. Maybe you wanted a reminder of him, or maybe you just wanted to feel more confident.

Arriving ten minutes early, the rain drying on the sidewalk but the smell still thick and heavy in the air, you strode up to the front doors of the financial consulting firm, hoping that the amount of coffee you poured down your throat that morning would be enough to keep you at your best.

The perky blonde from HR was showing you around the impressive building as she led you back to the department you would be working with. You were longingly eyeing the fresh fruit in the break room when you turned around and nearly ran smack dab into her back, stumbling a bit in the process.

An apology died on your lips when you found yourself looking past her, gaze falling onto an all too familiar looking man inside an office less than ten feet away, his phone cradled between his shoulder and ear as he typed into his computer, a concentrated look painting his impossibly handsome face. His dark, soft hair was neatly combed, his plush lips twitching into the receiver as his muscular shoulders stretched the fabric of his light blue button down, and when he reached for a file, his eye suddenly catching yours.

Neither of you looked away while he continued to give one word answers over the phone and you barely recognized that the HR girl was showing you your new desk. A desk right outside his office. All you could think about was what his hair felt like between your fingers, what his mouth felt like when he left those marks on your neck you had to cover that morning with makeup.

How he left you, needy and aching for more.

Then your eyes flicked to the shiny name plaque next to his door frame: Dave York.

pt. 2

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#undercoveraprilshowerschallenge #dave york #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #the equalizer 2 fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #one shot

[chlorinecake]

🍌 forbidden fruit | j.sc

✼ plot: just the reader catching feelings for her younger sister’s swim coach and doing anything she can to get between his legs

✼ word count: 4.8k

✼ contains: swearing, an oc + anton, teasing with food, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex (but he doesn’t finish inside), oral (m.r), fingering (f.r)

YOU WERE CONVINCED THAT that your younger sister was born into this world a mermaid, blessed with gorgeous locks and dazzling brown eyes that earned her the name Hazel at birth.

Though her hair now was often covered by a silicone swim cap with her honey-hued eyes shielded behind waterproof goggles, one thing that remained the same was her ability to swim as if the water simply carried her across its bumping waves.

You remember her first time in a pool like it was yesterday, her legs taking off with more ease than she ever had while walking, meanwhile, you sat idly in a donut floaty, cheering her on with smiles on both your faces.

Since then, Hazel never stopped swimming.

Though, you were more inclined to the creative arts rather than anything sporty.

Unless, the sport in question involved chasing after Hazel’s personal swim coach, Jung Sungchan: a former competitive swimmer himself until he opted to train after a minor injury.

You were careful not to let your eyes linger for longer than necessary whenever you stuck back to watch Hazel practice with him, despite the tantalizing view of Sungchan’s washboard abs poking through his swim shirt, or the way his wet hair clung to his sweaty forehead.

Well, with that description, it’s fair to say that your mind and imagination did all the lingering for you, his lower half being practically burned into your mind the moment you got a glimpse of his bulge one day.

Gosh, you felt like such a loser knowing that your main motivation to accompany your sister at swim lessons these days was for the sake of seeing Sungchan, despite how you'd barely even formed a decent relationship with him.

The key word here being decent-

“Breathe, Hazel, breathe!” Sungchan hollered, distracting you from your thoughts and drawing your attention back to your sister who had just beat her fastest 50 meter lap record of her life.

Sungchan met her at the end of the pool, “Less than 24 seconds,” she huffed proudly, just as he rejected their usual high five and instead, helped her out of the pool.

“What was that all about, hmm?”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Coach. I can hold my breath for a lot longer-”

“Don’t make anymore rookie mistakes, alright? It’s not always about time when we’re training, but efficiency.”

Hazel sighed at his words, taking off her goggles and letting them rest around her neck before looking back up at him, “Let me guess then… bobbing circuits as a punishment?”

“After break,” he smiled sarcastically, patting her on the shoulder while she chuckled at his behavior, walking off to the ladies locker room before passing a look your way, “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Would you mind getting me a snack from my duffel bag? It’s in the floral container.”

“Sure,” you said, uncrossing your legs and getting up from the bleachers while gathering each others things in a backpack.

Sungchan looked at the time on his watch, and it turned out that practice was already over for the day, “On second thought, how about I treat us all for lunch today?”

His offer caught the both of you off guard, “Seriously?,” Hazel questioned, “even after the little stunt I pulled?”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he shrugged, washing some equipment down with a hose.

“Give me twelve minutes to get ready,” she said, skipping to the bathrooms and almost immediately turning on the shower.

You wondered how much you and Sungchan could get away with while your little sister showered.

In a perfect world, your desires would already be a part of your reality by now, instead of something that just kept you entertained during Hazel’s swim classes.

A smirk crept up Sungchan’s deer-like features, shamelessly peeking at you before directing the hose your way, splashing you with a bit of water while giggling to himself.

“What the- stop that, you big freaking dork,” you giggled back, covering your face with your hands while running over to him, grabbing the hose and turning the faucet off.

The way both your hands looked while wrapped around the dark green tube, your smaller ones contrasting with his much larger and veinier ones made your breath stop in your throat for a second, a certain memory of you two resurfacing in your thoughts.

He handed you a towel to dry off, shaking his hair out like a puppy as he took a few steps away from you, your mind finally coming back down to earth.

“My sister seems to be excelling with her training recently… you should really give her more credit for her hard work,” you started, knowing that he'd have a response to that.

“Uhuh,” he replied briefly, leaning down to loop the water hose around its designated hook on the wall, “last time I checked, motivation doesn’t start with fleeting praises, but notable progression.”

“She literally beat a record today, Coach,” you defended, tossing your old towel in the nearby laundry bin.

A bit of silence meddled between you two, your eyes trying their best to be normal as he walked closer to you, every muscle in his body standing out in your peripheral vision, almost making it pointless for you to even try looking away now.

“You already know you can call me Sungchan, ____,” he smirked, hooking a finger in the belt loop of your jeans, “and you’re still wet, by the way... ‘can see it outlining your panties…”

Gosh, you hated how your mind thought of something dirty when those words left his mouth, wanting to disappear as an unbeatable heat raised to your face, all over a brief moment between you two that started and ended with a water hose.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 Later...

The three of you were now eating lunch together at a newly opened seafood bar called Fin & Shell, just a few miles from the training center.

You were all making conversation about the quality of the fish and chips and their odd choice of placing a fruit bowl in the center of the table when Hazel got up to get more napkins, leaving you and Sungchan alone.

Your hand found his thigh under the table before stroking it, dangerously close to his private area.

“Interesting way to get your hands clean,” he joked plainly, making you laugh at yourself a bit before continuing.

“You know there's not a clean damn thing about what I'm doing right now,” you said, fingers tip-toeing around where you wanted to feel him most.

“I know what you want, ____, but I'm afraid you're out of luck these days...”

“And why's that?”

“Because, your sister looks up to me now... I've earned her respect, and it’d only hurt her if she found out about us, let alone our past,” he continued, taking a sip from his drink, “I don't wanna risk it interfering with her athletic progression.”

The fact that Sungchan valued Hazel's well-being more than you in this matter was quite baffling to be honest.

Though, you couldn't help but internally roll your eyes at his empathy, “We’ll just have to be sneaky about it, then,” you tried, hands going back to caress his now tense thighs.

“I’d rather penetrate you with this banana than my dick, ____,” he retorted playfully while picking one from the fruit basket, his cute little smile coming into show despite how you were hardly in the mood to joke around.

You took the banana from his grasp after watching him struggle to open it for a bit, looking him in the eyes while asking, “Can I have a bite?”

“Sure, but don’t be slutty about it,” he teased, looking as your teeth sunk into the banana's sweet flesh, plump lips seductively sealing with the bite before handing it back to him.

The image of you doing that would stain his mind for the next few hours, knowing deep down in the depths of his swim trunks that for professionalism or not, he was gonna get you to look at him like that again real soon.

“Uhhh, you two look strange... What’d I miss?,” Hazel chirped as she came back from her adventure to find napkins, sliding back next to you at the round table.

“Well,” you started, folding your hands over themselves, “Sungchan was just telling me about how he wouldn’t mind giving me beginner's swimming lessons tomorrow.”

“What?! No, I- ngh-,” he groaned, feeling as you applied pressure to his sensitive bulge, one of his hands flying over yours pleadingly as he redirected his initial sentence, “I mean,” he chuckled dryly, struggling to mask the way his facial features were twisting from your actions, “yeah. She’s um… really eager to develop some basic skills herself, y’know? For some sister bonding time…”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” you smiled, just as your sister began to speak.

“Oh… okay then! Sounds fun, I guess... Just don’t think I’ll be sharing my anti-fog goggles with you,” she giggled, looking at Sungchan before noticed the uncomfortable look on his face, your hand still pressing firmly against him, “you alright, Coach?”

“Yeah, just a bit... uhm...” he let out a shaky exhale, “sensitive… to my banana allergy...”

You felt his hand overcome yours with strength, making you retreat from your ministrations with a satisfied feeling in yourself.

“Okayyyy…” Hazel replied, raising her eyebrows dumbfoundedly as he got up from the table, pushing his chair in, “I’m gonna go get some water, but you two finish up. I'll be back in a bit.”

Hazel shrugged off the weird vibes y'all were giving off, taking a satisfied bite of the fish sandwich she'd ordered while you finished eating up your fries, finding immense pleasure in how flustered you got Sungchan to become.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 The next day...

You got up early the next morning, skipping your usual coffee run to avoid any 'pool cramps' while swimming as directed by myth Hazel.

You weren’t one to wear swim caps, so you just put your hair in a cute low-maintenance style, packing both you and her a mini snack to bring for the day ahead.

“Welcome, ladies,” Sungchan greeted, clapping his hands from all the energy pulsing through his veins, “There are de-fogged goggles on the rack over there… kudos to Anton for setting those up first thing, by the way.”

Anton?, you asked yourself, the name alone being nowhere near as familiar as the face you soon were met with, popping out of the water with a navy blue swimcap secured around his head, soft eyes meeting yours as an almost inaudible “hi” fell from his lips.

“Oh my God, Anton!” Hazel yelped, hopping in the water before swimming towards the later end of the pool to meet him, “last one back has to do the laundry.”

Almost immediately, your sister and him both took off with kicks like torpedos, meanwhile you tried piecing together where you recognized Anton from, and then it hit you:

He and your little sister used to train more often together back in the day, but after he got scouted for the swim team in New Jersey, you saw less and less of him over time…

Still and all, he looked quite similar to the sheepish boy Hazel used to crush on a few years back, excluding his now matured physique, of course.

They were already back to the wall by time your thoughts stopped, starting up some small talk between each other.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be back in town?” Hazel asked, out of breath from trying her hardest to out-swim Anton, who beat her by a landslide.

“Honestly I was surprised, myself. One of my mom’s coworker’s oldest son’s are getting married soon, so we flew out to celebrate... We don’t get back til a week from now, though.”

“Awesome! So that means we can spend more time together til you get back to your fancy New Jersey team,” she teased, shoving Anton’s shoulder playfully as he laughed off her words.

“Stop, you know I love it here, Hazel. This place made me who I am as a swimmer today...”

Sungchan suddenly blew the whistle around his neck, “Hazel, you’re supposed to be working on warm up’s and strength training right now. You can lallygag with Anton later, I’ll need his help and focus today.”

“His help? With what? I say this with all due respect, Coach, but aren’t you the professional here?”

“I indeed am… but he’ll be in charge of teaching ____ today.”

You and Hazel’s eyes widened simultaneously at Sungchan’s words, “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he replied plainly, taking off his whistle necklace and tossing it on a nearby table, “Like you said, I’m the expert, and thus, my expertise is needed more with you, Hazel...”

Sungchan walked around the edge of the pool, keeping a steady pace as not to slip on any water as he met you where you sat, “____’s quite the handsy one, but I’m sure little Anton can manage her for the day,” he smirked, pinching your cheek before handing you a pair of goggles and walking off cheekily.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ...

You’ll admit that your swimming lesson with Anton went well, though it was obvious you would’ve much rather spent that time with Sungchan, and you planned to give him a piece of your mind as soon as possible.

You had already showered up by now, approaching him in the pool area with every intent to get something out of him.

“So you making me splash around with a kid my sisters age was your way of getting back at me for the Fin & Shells thing, huh?,” you accused, watching as he put away some wet swimming equipment.

“You can’t make me back down that easily, y’know?”

He glanced at you for a quick second, “And what makes you think that’s my intention?”

“Just the plain fact that you’re scared to continue what we started…”

He narrowed his eyes, flicking the water off his hands before facing you head on, “No, but you should be,” he said, voice falling a little deeper, “you’ve seen me before, and that’s not something most girls are prepared for.”

“Please, don’t be so full of yourself,” you scoffed, mirroring his nonchalant voice as your eyes scanned his movements, legs following him all the way to the empty men’s locker room where he sat on a wall bench to relax, looking back at you with a slightly annoyed look on his face.

“You know?… All that stuff you said about professionalism was bullshit… we’ve crossed that line way long ago, and your size isn’t gonna get in the way… trust me...”

You made your way over to sit on his lap, straddling him with your hands at his shoulders.

“God, you’re so overbearing,” he sighed, your lips immediately finding his jawline, causing his words to fall out as hums instead of coherent syllables, “d’you understand what you’re playing with right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed back, gently nibbling the space underneath his ear.

His hands clung to your loose top as a way to control himself, but also because he wanted more, your hips rocking against his being enough to make him feel needy.

Not that he’d ever admit that to you though…

Your hot and wet kisses started to trail from Sungchan’s neck and to his plush lips, your hands sliding under his shirt to feel him as he mirrored your energy, lips moving in sync.

He was giving in to your ministrations, and you could tell by his breathing, which had become jagged and heavy… not in a submissive way, but with desire.

Frustration, even.

The muscles in his abdomen tensed and relaxed as you went back to kissing his neck, hoping that your lips would leave a mark or two while you were at it, “We can worry about a backup plan later, Sungchan—”

He groaned faintly, just as you pressed your core harder against him, feeling his hardness grow between your thighs.

Sungchan’s mind was getting fuzzy to the point where your words became like background music, present to him, but impossible to really focus on.

And he didn’t like that one bit…

The way you persuaded him so easily, having his dry mouth on the verge of begging you to kiss him again.

If this was gonna happen between you two, he wanted to be the one in charge.

“Fine,” he said sharply, causing you to look into his dark brown eyes, which were still slightly watery from the chlorine in the pool water.

“I just need to make sure you can handle it first,” Sungchan continued, guiding you off of his lap by the waist before digging his thumb into your shoulder, forcing you down to your knees in front of him.

His hands found your hair, leading your cheek to his bulge and lifting his hips to grind into your face slightly, eager to explore the friction but still wanting to test himself.

Test his self-control despite how it was basically out the window by now.

You clung to his toned thighs to keep your balance, eyelids fluttering shut before he smacked you gently on the other cheek, making you look back up at him once again as he rutted a little harder.

“Too big for you, baby?,” he teased, all of that while snickering under his breath, biting his lip before a smirk appeared on his stupid hot face.

It was always strangely exciting honestly… watching him switch from hot to cold, turning himself on just from jumping your cheek.

Everything you’ve been waiting for.

“I can feel you twitching,” you hummed, turning your head to face his heat head on, giving him sirenic eyes as you poked your tongue out, licking a stripe along his clothed member, “can hardly taste you through these pants, though…”

He cooed at your words, stroking your hair as you kept licking him up, a dark spot forming on his pants from your spit and probably some of his precum.

“Can you at least pretend you’re not such an eager slut for me?” He tried teasing, even though his voice sounded a bit strained.

You trailed a finger from his clothed tip to the drawstring of his pants before pulling the bow a loose, “We both know that’s not what you really want, Sungie...”

Shimmying his pants down, you were not at all surprised when his cock sprung out like a hot stinger, slapping against his stomach with an angry vein trailing its underside.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, watching as you didn’t hesitate to take him in your mouth, bobbing your head slowly to adjust to his size, but you could hardly fit more than half of him into your mouth.

“Easy there, ____,” he said in a deepened voice, feeling his balls tighten at the way you gagged around him, trying to fit it all in.

Releasing your lips with a pop, your jerked him with your hand, looking him dead in the eyes before reassuring him, “I can take it.”

“Prove it to me then…,” he challenged you, “or else this is all you’re getting…”

You internally scoffed at his words, “Having second thoughts?”

“No… Just don’t wanna risk breaking you before I even get started properly…”

The top of your tongue found his slit again, running rough stripes past it and suddenly asking, “We’re already taking a risk, why stop here?”

He let you continue fooling around with his dick for a little more until he pulled your chin away, looking you in the eyes-

“Get on your back.”

The voice you heard was enough to make you recognize what was really going on.

“W-what?,” you asked confusedly, having been snapped out of your mind, yet still feeling as though only half of you was present.

“I said get on your back? So we can stretch first?,” Anton said, mirroring the same dumbfounded look you had on your face.

“Oh... sorry, I uh... I got distracted...”

“Its okay,” he answered softly, leading you to the training mat on the floor, “let's just stay focused for now, alright? Once you fully lay down, start by pulling your knees to your chest to stretch out your hamstrings...”

Anton's voice faded into the background of your mind as your body continued to follow his instructions, somewhat thankful for the dark colored fitness clothes you wore considering how wet you'd gotten over your little memory about Sungchan.

It was the first time you actually did anything sexual with him.

It happened over four months ago, but you still remembered the whole thing like it happened yesterday.

Though, Sungchan eventually ended your secret fling for the sake of Hazel, not wanting to hurt her or risk ruining things between you two for 'fleeting feelings.'

Even so, you’d just been so down bad for him all this time that it was getting harder to respect that boundary of his...

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 Later...

Hazel and Anton had ran off to get smoothies together after practice with your permission obviously, Sungchan having stayed back to put the lane lines back in the pool after y’all finished training.

You asked if it was okay for you to hang back in the pool til he shut down the area, just so you could 'work on what you learned.'

He didn't talk to you much, which only annoyed you, leading to your sneaky backup plan to get his attention.

“Sungchanie~,” you sang in a whiny tone, “I need your help!”

“What is it this time?,” he asked, not even looking at you as he busied himself with putting away the tool box he was using.

“My bikini top came off... it floated away…”

“____, stop messing around, alright?”

“I'm serious,” you pleaded facetiously, covering your chest with your arms to sell your performance, “I'd get it myself, but it’s in the deep, so I can't.”

He sighed with a stern look on his face before answering, "Alright, just- … gimme a sec."

Sungchan took off his shirt, tossing it to the side before diving in the pool to fish around for your bra.

He found it pretty quickly, swimming back to the surface while treading with it in his hand.

“This it?” He asked, regardless of how obvious the answer was.

“Mhm…” You nodded back with a lil too much enthusiasm, sitting at the swim steps and waiting for him to go back under the water as you sneakily took off you bikini bottom next, waiting to see his reaction once he came over to you.

Bubbles erupted from his nose underwater, the sight of your bare core causing him to stumble over his trained breathing pattern.

You giggled a bit at his reaction, still covering your tits as his head flew up, shaking the water from his hair in a way that only made you want him more, which obviously wasn't his intention given the look on his face.

“What do you think this is? Some kind of game?” He snapped sharply, tossing your bra to you and using the steps to get out of the pool, just as you reached for his wrist to pull him back.

“Sungchan, wait! I'm sorry—” you started, but his hand left yours anyway, feet moving in the opposite direction of you before a soft "please," left your lips, making him pause in his tracks.

He sighed, “What?,” but it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“Can't you see that I'm losing my mind over this?” you answered with a defeated voice.

“It's not a good time right now, ____—”

“God, would you stop being so uptight like you don't want this, too?”

“I never said anything like that—”

“Because you don't have to,” you interrupted, cutting him off as a lump formed in your throat, not from sadness, but from exhaustion: you didn't know how much longer you could keep chasing him…

Without hesitation, you started to put your two-piece back on, water splashing a bit with your movements as he stood there coldly, not even looking you in the eye as you continued to speak, “You're right, Sungchan... this is all just a silly little game, and I seriously should've stopped trying a long time ago-”

“Just shut up, alright?” he retorted, looking you in the eyes as his body inched closer towards you, your eyebrows furrowing at the harsh tone of his words.

“Excuse me—”

“You win, ____,” his voice was deeper this time, wet hands finding your neck before caressing up your face, everything going black once he found your lips, sealing the the tension with a kiss, “I'll let you have your way.”

HIs tongue tangled with yours as he pulled you impossibly close to him, your heart nearly beating out of your chest before he backed away, hands gripping at everything from your boobs to your hips as he kissed down your sensitive neck.

Your legs subconsciously parting for him as you felt him start to suck at the exposed flesh there.

You don't even remember saying much of anything once he found your bikini, sliding it over as his fingers came into contact with your folds, barely touching you before you started squirming.

“God, you're so dramatic,” he shook his head, applying pressure to your clit with his cold fingers, contrasted with your increasing warmth.

“It’s not my fault you make me this way,” you purred, letting him kiss on you so hard that he left little marks behind, already getting you so worked up that even the simplest of his ministrations seemed intense.

That was when he sped up the movements of his fingers, not even sure how long he'd been at that pace before you started to feel tantalized, wanting to feel his dick before he made you finish.

It was strange though, the way your slick stood out against the water, his fingers gliding in and out of your hole as his thumb circled your sweet spot.

He was making you fall apart, and at that, single-handedly.

“Sungchan~,” you whined shyly, thankful for his arm maintaining your balance as your hands remained around the loop of your bra, giving you something to grab onto as he kept fucking you with his fingers, “I wanna feel you...”

As simple as those four words were, Sungchan knew exactly what you meant and wanted from him, but decided to mess with you nonetheless…

“Baby? You're already falling apart… what makes you think you can handle any more?” he teased, trying to act all tough with you even though he was about to buss in his pants given how unreal you looked in this moment.

Lower lip swollen from the way you bit down on it to hide your sounds, neck sprouting with darkening hickeys, hands clinging to your own tits for leverage, and your wet hair sprawled all over your head...

This was a view that could never get old to him, if he was even lucky enough to see it every single day.

“Please... fuck, just- mmm,” you stumbled over your words, feeling lightheaded as moans fell from your mouth like rehearsed melodies, your back arching even more as his fingers were in knuckle-deep now, your approaching climax causing you to open up for him.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, putting his forehead against yours, thumb relentlessly toying with your clit as he grew more eager in his own pants.

As much as you wanted to refuse his words for the sake of saving your orgasm, you couldn't help but to release, creaming all over his long and slender fingers as you felt your high in every part of your body.

Sungchan didn't hesitate to pull his fingers away from you, sliding down his trousers and spreading your slick across his length under the water.

“You've got another one in you for me, yea?,” he asked, voice sounding rasp as he pressed his tip against you, your trembling thighs struggling to stay open.

“Gimme a sec to come down first,” you nearly begged, watching his eyes grow darker as he pushed through your thighs, hips meeting yours with a splash.

“You know we don't have time for that, ____,” he continued with a suppressed groan, feeling his dick warm up all your insides as he slid past your wetness and bottomed out, guiding your hands from your chest to his shoulders... “just hang on, okay?”

You barely even nodded before he started fucking into you, walls giving in to his size thanks to the water, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't hurt just a little bit.

He caught sight to your discomfort early on, catching your lips with his to keep your mind off the pain, both your breaths sounding shaky now from all the action.

He started to pick up the pace again, not bothering to hide his moans anymore as you clenched around him so hard, he didn't think he'd be able to get back out.

Your wet hands clung to his broad shoulders, glimmered with beads of the pool water from his movements.

Feeling your hips chase his as the pain faded back to pleasure, you knew you were close, especially considering how little time you had between orgasming.

His stamina impressed you honestly, given how he'd been working all day yet still had enough energy to fuck you like this.

A broken whimper fell from his pink lips, words getting lost in his throat even though he had no idea what he wanted to say in this moment.

He was practically intoxicated by the way you made him feel, cursing himself internally for pushing away so many times.

He panted your name out loud, teeth grazing your neck as his head hung in the space provided, feeling weak all of a sudden, “I'm close.”

“Then don't stop,” you huffed back, caressing his pretty face as he chased his high, the water rocking with his movements as he felt his stomach tighten, spurts of his sticky release barely having enough time to coat you before he pulled out, fisting himself in a failed attempt to catch his release.

“Aww, fuck... fuckkk,” he groaned, watching the strings of his cum slip past his fingers and into the water, some of it hitting your legs.

Of course he would've preferred to finish inside you, but he thought it'd be respectful to at least pull out.

You held him close with your thighs around him, giggling a bit at the way he struggled to contain himself.

“You really should've just came inside me, y’know,”you said, feeling a throb in your core after everything.

“Very funny,” was all he said before pulling up his swim trucks and splashing a bit of water on you.

It was interesting seeing how Sungchan could go from hot to playful in a matter of seconds with you.

After everything that'd just happened, the poor guy wasn't at all in the mood to re-clean the pool thanks to the mess you two just made.

So instead, he offered a hand to help you up before carrying you out of the pool, knowing that it wouldn't be easy for you to walk with your legs still shaking.

Neither of you knew how much time you had left til Anton and Hazel came back, but one thing for sure was that you and Sungchan would keep playing this game for a lot longer than planned.

You said so yourself... you'd just have to be more sneaky about it.

⚡︎ Special thanks to @wonbinisbabygurl for requesting this piece ~ (love you princess!!!)

⚡︎ Had to repost this story because the first time around, I wasn't satisfied with the engagement I received ;-; (only 14 notes in 24 hours), so hopefully people see this in the tags this time!!

⚡︎ 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ) @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @antonartic

⚡︎ Feel free to also check out my RIIZE masterlist

#riize smut #riize #riize sungchan #jung sungchan #sungchan smut #sungchan ff #riize hard thoughts #riize hard hours #sungchan x reader #riize sungchan smut #sungchan hard hours #riize ff #jung sungchan smut #lee anton

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬

Suspicion and lies often led to the brash decisions that ended empires, whether they were justified or proven false, it didn’t matter — what was said and done could never be taken back. It was how you developed such a keen sense for divulging the truth, and what else could you have done with such temptation being placed on a silver platter in front of you?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ♔ Closeted!Bodyguard!Stucky x Mafia!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ♔ 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ♔ Fluff, extreme sexual tension, implied smut, unconventional use of a knife (read: knifeplay), heated kissing, Bucky is possessive and a tease ჻჻჻ TROPES: Forbidden and Secret Relationship, Power Imbalances, Boss/Employee(s) ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, voyeurism

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ♔ Take note that I said Closeted!Stucky. ♔ I have no idea if this will turn into a consistent, prominent AU, but I still had a lot of fun writing it — we shall see.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ♔ HERE

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ♔ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Polyamory (January) — Masterlist ♔ @stuckybingo 𝗢𝟭 — Mob/Gangster AU —  Masterlist ♔ @anyfandomfluffbingo Ｎ４ — Coming Out —  Masterlist ♔ @mcukinkbingo Ｎ３ — Free Space —   Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The purr of the engine silenced itself as you turned the key, and the ringing sound in your ears fell quiet with it. You couldn’t be more grateful for the reprieve. 

After a day full of foolish encounters with bastardised older men who counted themselves among the elite — only for having the shining epitome of money around their wrists or padding their wallets so they would appear a few inches taller if they stood on top of it — grated you down to the last fibres of your tether, a dangerously threadbare and poised to snap, length of steel.

“I need a fucking drink,” you groused, frowning at the steering wheel.

To cap it all off, you were well beyond your tolerance for unspoken and mysterious tension within the ranks of your men, especially of two in particular. 

Before your last, dull meeting of the day, your phone chimed with an alert. It was a text from your favourite receptionist who gleefully told you that your two best men, Bucky and Steve, were awaiting you in your office. 

They closed the door behind them, too.

And if you were honest, the reply to your questioning on their demeanour describing them as nervous and fidgety, like two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, made you smile wickedly. 

For years, Bucky and Steve were inseparable from one another within the ranks of your employed guard and associates. 

They both worked hard to surpass the others and prove themselves, and it landed them in the prime position of being your personal guard — a guard that was meant to be at your beck and call, though you weren’t so cruel as to deprive the supposed lovers of time on their own. 

Not when the thought of them alone made an unbearable heat simmer between your thighs and over your skin. 

“Right,” you sighed, steeling yourself for what you were soon to witness. The two of them were no doubt waiting impatiently for whatever they had to share, though you had an inkling it involved far more personal topics than that of logistics of weapons and plans. “Here goes nothing.” 

The walk through your opulent empire never failed to put a pep in your step when all of the people that rushed past inclined their heads in greeting or rushed over to greet you with nervous smiles and paperwork to sign — especially interns. Bless them, you thought, and you sent them on their way.  

It was only when the elevator chimed when it reached your floor did you truly focus on the thoughts that swirled over just what you would walk into. 

The sight of your favourite receptionist, who you fondly called Wands, sitting behind her sprawling desk with thinned lips in restraint was beyond amusing. Your shoes clicked over the gleaming marble while you made a beeline to her desk, arching a brow in question. “Care to tell the class, love?”

“Steve and Bucky are waiting for you but they looked nervous, even scared—I don’t know what they’re up to,” Wands rushed in one breath, her auburn hair swaying with the frantic movements of her hands. “They just asked me if you were in and I said you were otherwise engaged and I offered to call, they said yes, and then when you replied to tell them to let them in, I sent them in and–”

“Whoa, whoa, breathe, Wanda,” you soothed, and you shoved your laughter back down into your chest — a time and a place. “It’s okay, you did as I asked.” There was a hesitant pause where you tried to best work out how to word your next question.

“Miss–?”

You shook your head and barrelled on. “Can you tell me if they were… acting strangely?”

Wanda stared at you, blessedly confused, or utterly oblivious. “Strangely?”

“Yes,” you said simply, “Did they stare at one another as though the other hung the moon, or some shit.”

“Oh!” Nervous laughter made Wanda’s shoulders shake minutely. “Well, yes? I mean, their gazes were lingering–”

Bingo.

“–And I think as the door closed, they held hands? Maybe they thought I couldn’t see–?”

“That’s all I needed to know,” you said with a nod, and you threw her a sly smirk. “Take a break, love. I’ve got this—keep the phone off of the hook, I’m going to be otherwise engaged.”

Wanda blinked, hesitating for a moment, then she lifted the headset off her head and placed it on the desk before she took the phone off of the receiver. “Uh– Okay, alright. I’ll be around.”

You watched, amused, while Wanda walked away. The hesitant set of her steps gave away that she was still confused, but even she knew not to question a direct order guised under a simple request. Her slight figure disappeared behind the lift doors.

A deep, grounding breath made your shoulders rise and fall, and you turned to face your office doors. The double set of ornate barriers held many lethal secrets, but what it hid on this occasion made your mouth water with a sudden hunger. 

What lay behind those doors, you suspected, would forever change the dynamic that rooted you in place with your two best men — it excited you in a way you would have never expected. 

The simmer of anticipation grew to be unbearable. 

Each click of your shoes over the marble echoed off of the walls like a gunshot, only barely heard over the rush of blood in your ears. 

As you walked towards what lay in wait, you imagined what they could be doing behind those closed doors. 

Would you find them locked in an intimately close embrace, kissing like their lives depended on it? 

Or, and you prayed it was not the case, for you weren’t sure you would survive such a sight, would they be strewn over your overly large desk — one of them on his back while the other rode him like it was all he was made for. The sounds of their moans and whimpers echoed in your imagination, and for once, your steady, arrogant stride faltered. 

“Calm the fuck down,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head. “Wait and see.”

The wooden surface of the double doors was cold against your cheek, but you pressed harder up against it, straining to discern any sound that would give away what the two of them were up to — whether you were about to witness an act between lovers, or whether they were truly not what they seemed. 

It was silent beyond the barrier. 

The cold metal of the door handle shocked you from the vivid reverie of what could be waiting for you — it was more than likely that they would hear the door opening and hasten to separate, if they were kissing. 

Slowly, and ever so carefully, you turned the handle and eased the door open, enough to allow a slither of the room to be visible. From your vantage point, you could see your desk and your high-backed chair behind the black, glossy surface of glass. 

A matching set of leather armchairs were placed side by side, opposite to your throne, and you could see the back of both Steve and Bucky’s heads from their positioning — their heads were turned to face one another, lips moving in a hushed conversation. 

Bucky’s face looked pained from the taut line of his brows and the deep-set frown on his lips, the gesticulation of his hands gave away that he was wanting something, and the longer you watched, the more you realised he was gesturing for Steve to move closer. 

The blond seemed hesitant to move from his seat. 

You didn’t move or open the door further — content to watch whatever was happening unfold. 

The suspicions grew within you the longer you stared; Steve’s hands were gripping the side of the leather seat with white knuckled restraint; Bucky was nearly on his feet in his desperation for Steve to come closer.

Your tongue darted from your mouth to lick your lips, and you were about to announce your arrival, when it happened. The barely stifled gasp of surprise that fell from your lips only went unnoticed due to Bucky’s chair being shoved back and toppling to the floor as he surged to his feet. 

Steve made to move as well, but Bucky was too fast — he stalked towards Steve and pulled him up by the lapels of his suit jacket, and he snarled something in his face, expression twisted with a wounded hunger. 

“I said I didn’t fucking care, Stevie,” Bucky growled, his voice raspy with barely tempered anger. The way Bucky stared into Steve’s eyes ignited a heat unlike anything you’d felt before between your thighs — it was something animalistic, primal in the urge to consume someone whole. “I fucking want you—no one else,” he insisted, inching closer. “You’re it for me, for fucks sake! What do I have to do to make you see and give up this damned charade?”

Any reply Steve had to utter was lost to the wind as Bucky kissed him, his lips seeking the others like his life depended on it. The muffled squeak of surprise escaped Steve’s parted lips before he kissed back in earnest, forcing the brunette backwards against your desk with enough force to rattle the piece of furniture. 

Pen cups and plant pots clattered and rolled onto the floor.

They paid no mind to any of it, too lost within one another to see you open the door wider and slip inside. The small click of the lock didn’t even deter them — you watched, entranced, while they fought each other for dominance with growls and low moans. 

Bucky bared his teeth when Steve nipped his lower lip. “Fuck.” Metal fingers threaded through golden locks, and he gripped the back of Steve’s head. “That’s it,” he cooed, and he pulled Steve’s head back to better access the smooth skin of his neck. “That’s more like it, baby.”

A honeyed whine tumbled from Steve’s parted lips. “Buck–”

“Shh,” Bucky soothed, running the palm of his metal hand over the back of Steve’s head. “Just kiss me.”

You leaned back against the cool wood of your office door with a heavy breath. A devilish smile danced over your lips and pulled them taut as Steve launched himself forward with a growl, almost forcing Bucky all the way over to the other side of your desk. “Need you now–”

“I know,” Bucky soothed against Steve’s lips, and he grinned. “And you can have me, kitten.”

The groan that echoed off of the walls of your office was pornographic in nature — the lack of cameras truly a crime. 

Callused, deft hands never settled over any part of their bodies; the brush of fingers and palms over their sides and over frantically bared skin — the leather jacket Bucky wore was thrown with little care, landing at your feet with a solid thunk. 

The dark holsters over Bucky’s chest were plainly visible now. The glint of his trusted Gerber blade was bright against the black cotton shirt he wore, and the pair of Glocks fastened to his belt skimmed against the surface of your desk. 

That same blade whirled and glinted in the air, Bucky’s right hand holding the handle of such a deadly blade with ease. “Fuck, fuck,” Bucky rasped, “Hang on.” He placed his left hand on Steve’s shoulder and pushed him back a pace. The glass squeaked with the slide of Bucky’s legs over the edge, and he stood, barely taller than his partner. 

“Wha–?”

The beautiful sound of Steve’s moan while Bucky sliced open his shirt with the sharp edge of his Gerber made your toes curl; a glint of deranged lust in Bucky’s eyes as he holstered it on his hip only worsening it. Steve’s shirt wrinkled in his fists while metal plates whirred in calibration. “Kiss me harder, fucker.”

Steve chuckled breathily and instead of going for Bucky’s mouth, his lips found Bucky’s neck, and going by Bucky’s moan, it was going to heat up far too quickly for you to enjoy this particular show. 

Before you could talk sense into yourself, you pushed off of the door with a flourish and predatory smirk, stepping heavily to allow the heels of your shoes click over the floor. The two of them pulled apart as though they’d been burned — horror coloured their expressions, while what little blood that reddened their cheeks drained from their faces in tandem. 

“Well, well, well,” you purred, still smiling victoriously. “What have we here, boys?”

“We can explain–” Steve rushed, but you cut him off with a heated stare. The words faltered on his lips, and he fell silent. 

Bucky stood there in apparent shock, still leaning hard against your desk and speechless while he stared at you with widened eyes. His knuckles were white from the grip of his fingers over the edge of the blackened glass of your desk — there was no verbal defence from him, though you sensed the surge of protective anger in his posturing frame. 

From your stance as an outsider and their employer, you could tell they were identically and rightfully fear striken — to be outed within the industry was a risky move — though you felt more than vindicated with your suspicions confirmed, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull of their connection. It looped you in its trap, cinching you tight, and you let it guide your words and actions. 

It was with a sense of fragility that you looked at them both, a small, soft smile replacing the wide smirk on your lips. “Don’t stop on my account,” you said, and you gestured to the drink cart next to your desk. “I knew something was going on between the two of you—I made it a game to figure out what it was, and here we are.” 

There was silence as they glanced at one another, your proclamation had taken them by surprise, you guessed. “For clarity’s sake, you’re not fired,” you explained. “Quite the opposite.”

“Which means?” Bucky snapped, watching your every move like a wounded animal preparing to savagely protect itself. 

“Take a seat, boys.” Bucky’s unanswered question hung in the air while Steve sat down. You looked up from the drink cart and found Bucky still standing tall, inclined slightly over Steve’s sitting frame as though to shield him from a barrage of imagined vitriol. “I said have a seat,” you repeated, offering them both a glass of whiskey. “Let’s talk.”

Bucky grudgingly took both glasses and handed one to Steve, before he sat down in his previously occupied chair. Their identical postures and rigid shoulders radiated trepidation. 

You couldn’t help but smirk while your back was turned momentarily to move the cart away from the desk — lest they lose their cool and poorly tested restraint to attack one another again. 

Once you turned to face them, you smiled and settled in your own high-backed leather chair. The silence crackled with a tension akin to the riskiest meetings you attended for your under bellied organisation, and you cleared your throat. “Why don’t we start with you telling me just how long my two best men have been tongue-fucking one another in secret—let alone in my office.”

Steve choked on his mouthful of whiskey while Bucky narrowed his eyes. “And why the fuck do you want to know?”

“Well,” you replied smoothly, blithely leaving his tone unchecked. “I seem to be in a bit of a predicament, boys.” 

They didn’t reply to your statement; suspicions too high to allow rationality. You looked at them over the rim of your own glass, taking in how Steve seemed to make himself impossibly smaller. 

A moment of tense silence passed, and you sighed heavily. Feigned interrogation tactics would either help you win or lose this battle of secrets — it was risky, they were your best men for a reason, they knew you were playing a game, but they had no way to know of your endgame. Possibilities of it, sure, but you were willing to gamble on your good standing relationship with them — a show of good faith was an extended olive branch. 

You took a deep breath and shifted in your seat. A wicked, sinful idea came to the forefront of your mind with the throbbing ache between your thighs. “My predicament, boys,” you said, careful to keep your voice quiet. “Is that what I walked into just now has left me soaked, and I have no way to take care of it—it is business hours. I also have the damned rule of not fucking any of my employees, one that you two are pushing to the breaking point.”

Their combined reaction teased a smile to your lips. Bucky’s eyes bulged, and he coughed around a sharp intake of breath; Steve sat as still as stone while he stared at you in bewilderment. The hilarity of such a response amused you — you had caught them close to fucking each other on your very desk, for fuck’s sake.

“So,” you said loudly over the lasting coughs from the brunette. “We can either pretend this never happened and we go on with our days, after I address what you were in here for in the first place.” 

“It was just–” Bucky tried, but you held your hand up to halt his explanation. 

“Or I let the two of you off the hook and let you make a mess of my office.” They blinked, and you took a sip from your drink. It made a quiet clink against the glass when you set it back down, louder than a bullet from Bucky’s Glock in the stunned silence. “And I join in.”

That same hunger flashed in both of their eyes this time — Steve’s ocean blue turned black, Bucky’s cerulean to grey, a mesmerising transformation that unwittingly pinned you in place. Your mouth watered with the hunger to feel them and their expert touch, and you slumped back against your chair with a brow raised in question. “So, tell me—what will it be, boys?”

Bucky looked to Steve; Steve looked to Bucky. They communicated silently, something untold in their eyes. 

In mesmerising unison, they stood from their armchairs and rounded your desk. The thundering of your heart could be heard within the sudden cavernous walls of your office. “I think we can make that happen,” Bucky purred, his forefinger and thumb tilting your head up as he sat back against the edge of your desk. “What d’ya think, Stevie?”

“Why the fuck not,” Steve whispered, sitting on your other side. His thigh brushed yours. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” you sighed, the grin on your lips purely predatory — a well-deserved victory against the unknown. 

Steve’s breath hitched and he surged forward to claim the exposed skin of your arched neck. Your fingers wound through the blond tresses like Bucky had done. “Good, fuck– Good boy, kitten.”

Through heavily lidded eyes, you looked up at Bucky and your lips parted around the words, “Come here, puppy—come on and fuck me.”

The only sounds that followed your command would be left only between the walls of your office, and if you smirked with sinful experience every time you thought of the both of them, or caught them standing too close to one another after that encounter, they winked covertly back. 

You couldn’t wait for next time.

yeah, I'm dead too.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #stucky x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #steve rogers x f!reader #stucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #stucky fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #steve rogers oneshot #stucky oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers imagine #stucky imagine #rookthorne's works

[cecilysass]

The Penultimate Partner Episode: Analyzing the Second-to-Last Episodes of Seasons 3-7

So I was thinking about the show’s tendency to do an episode that is explicitly about the Partnership—about the deep abiding bonds between Mulder and Scully—right before the season finale.

This doesn’t seem to happen in season 1 and 2 (the penultimate episodes are Roland and Our Town, respectively, which don’t seem to play the same role). And something different is happening in season 8 and 9, so I don't think they fit as well.

But during the show’s peak popularity, seasons 3-7, the second-to-last episode seems to be setting up baseline emotional stakes for whatever plotline is about to hit. These episodes are giving us the state of the partnership, reminding us how devoted they are to one another. They also tend to have to do with one or both partners having a distorted perception on reality that requires the other partner's intervention in some way. I’m calling them the Penultimate Partner episodes.

So can we look at the themes of each of these Partnership episodes and see development over time? I think yes. It’s gonna be long. I rewatched them all, so buckle up.

Season 3: Wetwired - partnership as trust Season 4: Demons - partnership as loyalty Season 5: Folie a Deux - partnership as shared madness Season 6: Field Trip - partnership as touchstones Season 7: Je Souhaite - partnership as happiness

Season 3: Wetwired  (right before Talitha Cumi)

This episode, like several in the Penultimate Partner episode category, involves a X-file that distorts perception. Because Scully can’t trust her own senses due to the mind control, she also can’t trust Mulder, calling into question the key tenet of their partnership. (And by season three, they have definitely established trust as the bedrock.)

Her gradual mistrust of Mulder in this episode is tense and painful; you can see on her face how much she argues with herself about it even as her mind is tricking her. Others who fall victim to this mind control phenomenon wind up murdering their romantic partner, but in the end of the episode, when they’re discussing what happened in the hospital, they both seem pretty unsurprised that Scully’s paranoia focused on Mulder. They both know, late season three, how crucial trust is between them. They understand that it’s Scully’s worst fear that Mulder would betray her. It’s not even news to them.

What Mulder’s worst fear might be is also hinted at, although it’s unsaid. He’s furious that her life is put at risk by the mysterious informant. When Mulder believes Scully may be dead and he’s going to identify her body, his reaction is chilling. He seems to completely shut down emotionally, not even showing any reaction to the Gunmen. Tellingly, when he is offered a choice between getting answers and going to ID Scully’s body, he doesn’t hesitate—he chooses Scully. (Sometimes people claim Mulder doesn’t show this kind of commitment to her until much later, even until Home Again in season 10, so it’s interesting to see it so unequivocal here.)   

I want to say that Scully’s anxiety about trusting Mulder in this episode is foreshadowing aspects of the cancer arc in the next season, but I don’t think that’s really what’s happening. This episode seems more like an entirely season 3 cap to the Anasazi / Blessing Way / Paperclip storyline, especially the murder of Melissa. Scully’s paranoia calls back Mulder’s in Anasazi, and Scully explicitly blames Mulder for her sister’s murder when she’s drawn a gun on him. Even just the fact that we're there with Maggie, who has a picture of Melissa displayed prominently, tells me that loss is supposed to be on both partners' minds. (Actually, the interaction between Mulder, Scully and Maggie is pretty amazing in this scene; they’re an emotionally complex trio who seem to be communicating on some other level. I love how when Mulder and Maggie are talking to freaked-out Scully they almost sound strangely unreal, almost like they really are speaking falsely. It allows us to imagine the scene as it looks from Scully’s point-of-view, as a massive betrayal.)

Wetwired is, technically, a mytharc episode, as this whole mind control thing seems to tie back into X and the Syndicate. Personally I think the episode’s ending, emphasizing the mytharc-related plot and X’s involvement and whatever tf was happening there, was a little misguided. For my tastes they would have done better to play up the more personal, character-based themes a little more. But I also think this episode was the first real Penultimate Partner episode, and it was setting some patterns that were going to be expanded on.

Season 4: Demons (before Gethsemane)

From the cold open, we can already tell this is already a more personal episode than Wetwired. Mulder is the one having perception problems now; he wakes from a disturbing dream, covered in blood, muddled memory. This is also technically a mytharc episode, but much more concerned with direct impact on character than Wetwired was. 

Scully instantly rushes to Mulder’s aid—walks right into his shower, for heaven’s sake—and absolutely never wavers in loyalty to him, even when he looks real, real guilty and a "rational" person would be suspicious. She is in fierce, must-protect-Mulder mode throughout this entire episode, from the moment she shows up palpating his head with her hands to her back-off behavior with the cops to her badass cold “I know what you do” comment to Dr. Goldstein. She also helps Mulder see through his distorted perception, telling him "this is not the way to the truth" as he holds a gun on her.

In this Penultimate Partner episode, we see something more than simple trust going on, although there’s trust, too. Maybe the word is loyalty or devotion. We see Mulder coming apart and Scully completely and utterly devoted to him. It’s actually very clear foreshadowing for the following week’s episode, Gethsemane. Mulder isn’t stable, and he needs Scully to keep him from “los[ing] his course,” as she says in Demons’ end narration. Gethsemane will follow up on the Mulder losing-his-course idea, and also will explore the idea that Scully’s bottomless support of Mulder isn’t always good for her. (This idea is voiced especially by Bill.) 

There are some ways in which this episode is a neat little bookend to Wetwired. In Wetwired, Scully flees to her mother’s house, desperate and paranoid; in Demons, Mulder, similarly unhinged, seeks out his mother at her house. In Wetwired, Scully sees things that aren’t there, and in Demons, it’s definitely implied that Mulder may be seeing things in his past that weren’t actually there. In Wetwired, Scully pulls a gun on Mulder, and in Demons, Mulder pulls one on Scully. 

I adore this episode, even though it’s definitely vulnerable to the critique that Mulder acts like a self-obsessed loon and Scully a hopeless enabler lol. Especially because it comes before the Gethsemane / Redux three parter, I wish the episode would have explicitly connected his behavior to the cancer arc, as I feel like that would have made his wild choices seem more understandable. If he felt like he needed to find answers faster because he knew Scully’s time was running out and he saw it all tied together with her fate, then we would get why he was acting so rashly. It would also tie more nicely into Gethsemane, which misleads the audience into thinking Mulder has killed himself, in part, because he believes she’s been given cancer to make him believe. But again, I love this episode. Scully showing up and putting that blanket around Mulder when he’s shaking. Her hugging him at the end when he’s desolate on the floor. This shows a partnership that’s been through Paper Hearts and Memento Mori—that’s moved beyond trust alone.

Season 5: Folie a Deux (before The End)

This is another episode about perception—about one partner seeing things the other can’t. Unlike in Wetwired or Demons, however, in this episode the altered perception actually represents the real truth, something everyone else fails to understand. The episode plays around with the tropes of earlier episodes like Wetwired, at first encouraging us to think that it's a delusion that Pincus is a monster, but then convincing us, through Mulder’s eyes, that the delusion is actually reality.  

As other people have observed, this episode ends up being a nice little metaphor for the whole show: Mulder knowing what no one else does, being ostracized and considered insane, asking Scully to find evidence to corroborate him and ultimately convincing her to believe him and see what he sees. Their partnership is, quite precisely, a madness shared by two. 

It’s a monster of the week, not a mytharc, so there’s no distraction of elaborate mytharc plot, just characters and monster. And this is a Vince Gilligan operation, so our focus is definitely on character. From the first scene with Mulder and Scully, we sense that we’re going to be talking about the partnership. Skinner gives them an assignment in Chicago that Mulder doesn’t think is worth it, and he complains in a particularly self-centered way to Scully, which she observes (“You’re saying I a lot.”) The episode is going to be very explicit that while Mulder might be monster boy, they are in this unhinged partnership situation together. Another important moment comes later, when Scully is calling the perp crazy for thinking he saw a monster, and Mulder says, “Well, I saw it, too.” Scully’s careful about-face after that, her delicate avoidance of implying she thinks Mulder is actually crazy, is part of the dance they’re doing at this late season five stage of their partnership. She doesn’t quite believe him, but she doesn’t knee-jerk not believe him either. 

And the foreshadowing of what’s to come in this one, whoo boy. Most obviously, we must acknowledge that 1013 knew exactly what they were doing when Mulder tells Scully “you’re my one in five billion.” A mere seven days from now, a mysterious beautiful ex who believes his theories is going to show up to immediately cast doubt on that claim. And this episode is also toying with the question of whether Scully actually does always back Mulder up when it’s important, when she has to accept she saw something illogical. At the end, does she tell Skinner she actually saw a giant bug in Mulder’s hospital room? We don’t know, but I think it’s implied she doesn’t. That’s all presaging what will happen in The Beginning coming off of Fight the Future. It’s Scully’s little way of resisting the madness, but it also hurts Mulder and damages the partnership, which will be a problem in season six. 

Season 6: Field Trip (before Biogenesis)

Full disclosure: this is my favorite episode. So I’m going to make some big claims about it. This is the ultimate Penultimate Partner episode—the one that best knits together what it wants to say about their partnership and what it wants to establish for the finale. It's a monster-of-the-week episode (another Vince Gilligan ep, with John Shiban) but refers to the mytharc often. It’s also one of the best episodes about their partnership, period. 

This is yet another episode about distorted perception. This time, however, under the influence of a giant mushroom, both partners are unable to perceive clearly, to determine what is real and what is a lie. And when they’re confused, they critically turn to one another to help them see what the truth is.

Coming off of season six, the partnership is rocky. Mulder is frustrated that after so many theories of his have borne out, he still can’t get the benefit of the doubt from Scully, something he explicitly says in the dialogue here. Scully has felt like she’s not been trusted or heard, like Mulder has turned to others (Diana Fowley, for example) rather than his partner.

This is an episode about how they absolutely need one another to be able to make sense of the world—that individually each of their points-of-view are not enough. In Mulder’s hallucination, Scully accepts his claims about alien life forms too completely, not applying enough skepticism, not pushing back against him. In Scully’s hallucination, a world without Mulder, everyone is unacceptably unquestioning of the status quo, refusing to dig deeper, lacking Mulder’s critical acumen and drive. Neither partner likes the feeling of being unopposed, and it makes both of them suspicious about the hallucination’s reality. They may think they want their own view to prevail, but they need one another to be a whole person.

The theme of what’s real and what’s not – and needing one another to discern the truth–is exactly what is picked up and developed further in the Biogenesis-Sixth Extinction-Amor Fati arc that follows this. Scully’s skepticism has to stretch to incorporate more of Mulder’s worldview to make sense of what she sees in the Ivory Coast, and of course, Mulder calls on Scully’s worldview to see through his misleading dream world in Amor Fati. In fact, you could argue Field Trip is really about the idea that Mulder and Scully are one another’s touchstones—the people they need to know what’s right and real. 

Incidentally, this episode also plays around with some of season 6’s other subtextual throughlines: Mulder and Scully’s anxieties about possibly entering a non-platonic relationship, their unease about what a normal, domestic life might even be for them. For the entire episode they’re directly compared and juxtaposed with the Schiffs, a young married couple who died on Brown Mountain. The Schiffs are a tall man and a redheaded woman. They even die hallucinating lying together on a hotel bed after she asked him to “hold her” (although I do seriously doubt 1013 was intentionally foreshadowing a full year ahead). The last shot is of Mulder reaching out to take Scully’s hand across the ambulance, suggesting a kind of partnership beyond just, you know, partnership. Which takes us to the next season.  

Season 7: Je Souhaite (before Requiem)

Truthfully, I don’t think this episode fits quite as well in the Penultimate Partner category. It doesn’t share some of the same traits as these other episodes—it’s not quite as notably about perception, for instance—and it’s not fundamentally about the partnership in the same way. But it does end up commenting on their partnership (even their relationship, really) as part of its theme, so I think we can include it—especially because its position right before Requiem ends up being important. 

Je Souhaite (btw, written and directed by Vince Gilligan) has a bit of an unsettled feeling to it because it was kind of treading water, waiting to see what happened with DD and the series. Nothing too monumental could happen with the partnership or the plot because it wasn’t clear to anyone what would happen next with the show: whether it would end or continue, whether DD would be involved or not.

So we have a story about Mulder and Scully making peace with not having a significant impact on the world—e.g. not bringing about world peace, not introducing invisible bodies to science. Instead, they are content to delightfully share a beer and comment that they have made one another “pretty happy” (as Scully says about Mulder). Through the jinni character, they seem to take the lesson that they can enjoy being with one another, accept the simple happiness that their relationship brings them. Rather than wish for success that comes too easily, they take joy in the little things with one another.

Comparing this episode to the Penultimate Partner episodes that come before, we can really see how Mulder and Scully’s dynamic has evolved by season seven. We have a Scully who is much more open to supernatural phenomena, for example, and whose skepticism seems more like a reflex or a defense mechanism now. Scully’s move towards belief is partially reflected in the plot of the episode: the X-file here really isn’t even science fiction. It is just straight up fantasy or magical realism. Aside from Scully's brief mention of a disease to explain what happened to the mouthless man in the cold open, no plausible scientific explanation for the jinni's long life or wishes is really even floated.

Scully is delighted by the discovery of the invisible body, and Mulder is visibly delighted by her delight. He’s also frustrated by her retreat into doubt when the body disappears, of course. But even the reversal into her old skepticism is half-hearted, as she soon after she's engaging in discussion with Mulder about what his final wish was. This is consistent with the overall blurring of the old hardline believer-skeptic dynamic we see in season 7. It’s also peeking ahead to Scully’s coming role as resident basement believer in season 8. 

The last scene, with the beers and Caddyshack, is meant to be a callback to djinni Jenn’s comment that she wishes she could “live my life moment by moment... enjoying it for what it is instead of... instead of worrying about what it isn't.” Mulder, we see, is taking a cue from her. (And good for him, as we almost never see these characters do this. Except on rare baseball-related occasions.)

However, this episode’s position right before Requiem—and right before the events of season 8—ends up giving this scene a real bittersweet bite. We know, after Requiem, that they were probably a romantic couple at this time. We know, after Requiem, that this time is going to be their last happy time together for a long while. Later in season 8, we learn that one lingering wish of Scully’s in season 7 is that she wanted to conceive a child with Mulder. And of course we know, after Requiem, that she gets her wish—but with a vicious catch, with a terrible side effect, much like what happens with the jinni’s wishes. 

So that’s my academic thesis on that. I know others have pointed out the existence of this type of episode before. What did I miss? Do you think I am wrong to leave out seasons 1, 2, 8, and 9? Why do we think these episodes focus so much on distorted perception? Interested to hear others’ thoughts (if they make it through this lol).

#the x files #x files meta #penultimate partner episodes #wetwired #x files #demons #season 3 x files #season 4 x files #folie à deux #season 5 X files #field trip #season 6 x files #je souhaite #season 7 x files #mulder and scully #fox mulder #dana scully #MSR

[heartfullofleeches]

Since you mentioned the Frankenhounds (one of my favs of yours)

I always remember those videos of Queen Elizabeth where she enters a room with her running corgis entourage, and I just imagine scientist reader with the Frankenhounds, but instead of cute corgis it's terrifying, stitched up murder machines.

Still cuties tho!

A new face in town always called for celebration. Don't see many of those too often, and with the gradually declining population for mysterious and unknown causes they were a blessing.

A corporate hot-shot decided they had enough of the city life and shipped themselves and their earthly possessions off to the closest town that allowed them to work remotely from their high paying job. To the surprise of neighbors who arrived with baked goods and freshly picked fruits, they had already started the process of planning a get together to meet everyone they'd see on the daily. The townspeople were so thrilled they forgot the tiny detail that there was one person who wasn't as welcoming as the rest. The party began without a hitch, but something felt out of place for the new face. The one person they were more excited to meet had yet to make their presence known as as their absence persisted they began to worry they might not show at all.

"Excuse me? Do you happen to have a number I can use to all the scientist?"

Though the tap on their shoulder was enough to alert the neighbor still wearing their carrier uniform, their eyes pop out of their sockets like billiard balls as they choke down a mouthful of food. "You... invited them?"

Puzzled by their sudden change, the new neighbor flashes a concerned smile. "Yes? Some articles of their work came up when I was doing research of your town, though most were slightly vague about what they do. They replied to my email saying they'd be around as soon as they could, and they'd bring their dogs if I allowed."

The mail carrier's eyes are just about ready to shoot out their skull. They make a grab for their bag - discarding their fallen cap as they gather their things. "Great party, but something's come up. Be seeing you, if you survive. Where are my keys... where are my..."

A sharp whistle pierces the air. All color, and hope, drains from the carrier's face as the yard's back entrance is pawed opened by a clawed hand - stitches running down the length of its furred limb. It retreats into the darkness as a lone figure steps out into view. Eyes follow them from all corners as they stride meticulously towards the larger group of party-goers, face void of greater expression than tight lips and a passive gaze. They scan the crowd, locating the newcomer with ease. A small smile forms - never meeting your eyes.

"Mx. Wilson. So good to finally meet you. Since this is our first meeting I must inform you I am not one to mingle with... others. I allow this an exception as you were unaware of this fact, and seemed so excited to meet my sweet pups - and I have to say they are quite eager to meet you as well."

The braver of the crowd regain function of their limbs, and take their attempt to flee as you bring two fingers to your limbs - but it's too late. Heavy panting and soft howls join the piercing shriek of your call in a sympathy of the chaos soon to follow. One by one, your howls spill into the yard - the newcomers eyes wide with newfound terror as the years long terror resurfaces in your existing neighbors.

The hounds knock over tables and chairs, barking and hissing at all who infer with their path. They corner those more expressive of their fear in tight shapes - bursting into maniacal laughter as they attempt to fling their bodies over the walls. The smallest of the group volts over to the snack table, scooping as many appetizers as they possibly could on one plate and balances the heavy weight in their claws - gifting their gracious offering to you as they kneel at your feet. You pick through the treats, patting their head as you pop one into your mouth. The others sniff out the outsider as they run for their house, dragging them back over to you and pinning them to the earth as you tower over them. You kneel, offerings a single fruit which they refuse. You chuckle.

"Oh, come now - don't be like that. We're only welcoming you to the neighborhood. My pups even when through the trouble of getting you a gift."

The fourth and most unpredictable of your hounds begins to convulse violently. They wheeze and sputter on the grass - jaws lax as they choke up something white and thin. You stroke their back, aiding them through their expulsion of whatever was lodged in their throat. Clinging to your leg, they spit out an entire human hand striped of its bone and still intact at the joints. With Halloween right around the corner, you'd say it was more a thoughtful gift than warning.

"And if I haven't said it all ready, welcome to the neighborhood."

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere oc #Franken-hounds #scientist reader #yandere drabble #yandere hybrid

[sagezora]

🌙 MOON PHASES: PAST, PRESENT, FUTURE PICK A CARD READING

DECEMBER 2022 💘

*close your eyes and ask yourself, “what do you need to know about this month and the major moon phases happening during this time?”

*open your eyes and pay attention to which card(s) you gravitate towards. there may be a message for you! take what resonates, leave what doesn’t !

Card 1 (far left): Mexican sunflower

past: during the sag new moon, many of you may have been setting goals and intentions working towards discovering and nurturing your talents and gifts. you realized being yourself and authentic gets you far. you are passionate, intelligent, beautiful and funny. So many people need to experience your light. alot of you are healers or recognizing the power of healing. trusting your knowledge and following your intuition helps you do whatever you put your mind to. reclaiming your power can be a challenging process. But you realized theres a need for you to shine fully because it helps you with spiritual alignment and attracting positive opportunities into your life. So its worth it. connecting with family and loved ones has helped with building your confidence. if you have been working on finding your chosen family and tribe, you may have realized there may be different avenues for you connect and meet new like minded people. Be patient. Give thanks for what you have at the moment. You are blessed with divine and spiritual abundance. Just stay true to yourself and your goals. Good luck is on your side. Your ancestors are protecting you on this journey.

present: this gemini full moon, may be bringing a lot of things up internally for you all. it can be a very confusing time. it may have you act out or overstep your emotional boundaries or others. this is not a time to force anything. this is a time to accept things for how they are. this is a time to reflect on past experiences but to gain perspective and learn your lessons. trust your intuition on what you need to learn. things come to an end and thats okay! letting go is apart of the healing process. old cycles are coming to an end because new and fresh beginnings are near. release and purge limiting beliefs and fearful and negative thoughts that hold you back. refrain from negative self talk during this time. take time to rest and renew yourself. self care is important during this time. connect with nature. be free. plant your feet in some grass. get out of your head. let go of control. trust the process. you are on the path of becoming the person who is confident in what they want and preparing their seeds for the their dreams to become a reality. journaling would be very beneficial to help with processing the information that may be coming up at this time.

future: the cap new moon, is giving this group the time to set intentions to help make their dreams and desires practical. during this time, community is going to big for you all. you will have the chance to connect with like minded people. these people will help you make your dreams become a reality. they will remind you that you are loved and supported. these individuals will remind you that you are worthy of your blessings. refrain from superficial relationships that may try to come up at this time. discernment is key. trust yourself. your mind, your body and soul. Be patient. Emotional security is important to build at this time. Stick to your vision. Look out for the signs and allow things to happen naturally. deep connections and vulnerability with the right people will keep you on the right path. these friends could also help you discover and nurture new interests. all you need to do is trust in the universe’s plan. a lot of abundance is in your future. Learning how to trust the process takes time. hope and faith is needed to keep your head up ready to catch your blessings coming in.

Card 2 (middle): Conception

past: the sag new moon brought up themes revolving self awareness, self worth and self love. you all realized there is a big need to set healthy boundaries with others and yourself. Healthy boundaries = self love and respect. It is self care. you all may be coming from an energy where you are finally giving yourself permission to set boundaries even if others make you doubt yourself. let go of that guilt. you are worthy of boundaries. you realized you deserved to feel safe as well. Clear boundaries help you tune into your real desires, feelings, goals and needs. being kind to yourself is just as important as being kind to others. Self compassion is needed. It’s time to be present in your body and feel your emotions. You are human! If you haven’t yet, Please release toxic relationships that aren’t serving you. Work on navigating those unhealthy attachments. Some of you may be healing from some form of betrayal which is making it hard to trust others and yourself. This pain is holding you back. It is causing you to abandon your needs and betray yourself. Release the past to help attract wholesome and wholehearted individuals. Count your blessings and remember your worth to get you through.

present: the gemini full moon is a time to look within and see what is arising in you. it is a time to be open to inspiration. new life and ideas are present. it is a time to be curious and open to new possibilities. this is a time to make sure you are in the right environment for these ideas to grow in a healthy way. creativity and movement like dancing, yoga, and physical activity are important at this time. It will help inspire you if you are lacking inspiration. a lot of you are dealing with different things that are holding you back from going after what you want. you may need to reevaluate your goals and release what isn’t serving you anymore, especially emotionally. Be honest with yourself. Its time to make adjustments. Time to work through the pain and trauma before you take action. Forgive yourself. Pay attention to what is draining your energy. Take time to listen to your body and soul. Go deeper within to connect with your higher self. If you are having a hard time figuring out what you want, it’s time for you to get clear on what your vision is. Silence will help bring clarity and help you with attracting and requesting what you want. There may be a lot of distractions around you that are making you busy, overwhelmed and clouded. Create a space for yourself to clarify your vision. Find a way to eliminate the noise and distractions. this will help you figure out what you what in the moment. Also, know that its okay to change your mind in the future. this is a time for you all to work on balancing your crown chakra. you may be dealing with a block to your intuition and communication to the spiritual realm. don’t let fear hold you back from connecting. you are protected by your people. wearing and working with the color purple and white could help at this time! your feelings of insecurity will pass and soon you will allow yourself to feel increasing faith in your own power and security. stability is near. Especially financial support that will help make your vision a reality. keep the faith.

future: the cap new moon is showing this group the importance of change. releasing the past is crucial for growth at this moment. you are only blocking your own blessings by staying in the past. you ancestors want to connect with you at this time but you need to make yourself available to receive the message. let go of what is familiar to you. theres a need for you to travel to the darker parts of your soul right. No need to fear. like i said your people are right beside you during this time. there’s a desperate need for you to connect with your higher self. set intentions and goals on how to find a balance with your present self and highest self. note the intense feelings that may come out during this time. things may feel accelerated. a lot may be resurfacing for you to finally face. life changes are being triggered for a reason. the universe is guiding you through a major transformation at this time. you are aligning with your higher self. Trust in the direction and guidance from your ancestors. Stick to your vision. Be patient though. Some of you may be going into a waiting period. But its okay. It’s a time to be patient to let things come to fruition. keep a dream journal at this time. It can help with connecting the dots and receiving necessary messages.

Card 3 (far right): the Sun

past: the sag new moon was a time for rebirth. certain matters and situations came to an end to make room for a new beginning that you need to take. its time to release and surrender. Its a time to heal and rest when you can. during this time, you may have been setting intentions that would help you gain confidence to go after your dreams. you realized you are more than capable of anything you put your mind to. you just have to go for it. take that risk. be open to new experiences! let go of your failures in the past. have faith in the universe because it supports your ideas and intentions. you may have been seeing many signs. you aren’t alone. your ancestors are protecting you along the way. if you haven’t already, find new ways to connect with your spirit guides and ancestors. maybe through an alter and shrine.

present: the gemini full moon may bring up a lot of relationship issues around this time. you may be dealing with a lot of unnecessary projections. you may be also realizing that a lot of the people in your life that are currently a reflection of how you see yourself. this can be a good and bad thing for some. some people need to still to let go of some people but it may be taking you awhile to process that. it’s okay to have constant reflection because it helps with growth but make sure the people you have around you respect you. this is a time to look within. learn from your reactions. look into what triggers you. how do you see yourself? is it positive? have you been off centered? are you neglecting your needs? overindulging? there’s a need for balance! work on consistently taking care yourself. remember your priorities. a lot of you may be stressing about finances. i know its easier said than done but try not to worry about it too much. money or some blessings may come in unexpectedly. there’s a need for balance with your root chakra to help with your sense of safety and security. trust your intuition during this time. It will help reassure you if you are on the right path.

future: the cap new moon is going help you with staying true to yourself. you are worthy of love and respect! you need to take time to focus on self love. its time to feel and respect your emotions. you realize once you work on your self esteem and being true to your values, more blessings come your way. continue to build your self esteem. work on setting goals to connect with others. you are in need of a community to help you feel seen and supported. you will be craving connections and the sense of belonging. this will be a good time to put yourself out there through your different interests but make sure you are using discernment. dont be afraid to ask for help during this time. take time to also pause and enjoy the moment. so much is going to be happening around you. self awareness is going to key to help with productivity.

#intuitive readings #free picks #pick a card #pick a card reading #divination #pick a picture #channeled message #oracle cards #oracle #oracle reading #sagittarius season #capricorn season #moon phases #full moon readings #new moon reading #my observations #sagezora #lunarbbe #aries placements #taurus placements #gemini placements #cancer placements #leo placements #virgo placements #libra placements #scorpio placements #sagittarius placements #capricorn placements #aquarius placements #pisces placements

[lovehotelreservation]

Escort

Summary: There’s strength in numbers, but sometimes being alone is what you need most.

Rating: R

Pairing: F!Reader/Sonny

**Warning: contains themes of stalking, unhealthy/possessive behavior, & groping!**

lord free me from the australian

---------

The reassurance of another presence.

City life was an experience of being surrounded by a mass of people yet still managing to feel lonely regardless. Not clicking with colleagues at work, savoring what little personal space that a packed and busy subway allowed, the noise of neighboring families and roommates within the entirety of an apartment complex building–to be enveloped yet still experience isolation.

But there was balance, as you had come to experience while living alone in the city.

After clocking out for the day and saying your goodbyes to the friendly security guard, you could enjoy a latte with adorably crafted foam art by the ever jovial barista, Alban. During your daily commute on the subway, you were texting back and forth with Uki–a friend from college–on plans for an approaching hang out and the interpretation of a recent psychic reading. The noise that often plagued your apartment never bothered you much anyhow since you could always find refuge at the downtown library where the kind yet teasing archivist Fulgur could offer you new recommendations.

By this, you weren’t fully isolated from all human contact.

Yet it was during certain moments of loneliness that made you feel unnerved.

While parting ways with Alban as he closed up the cafe, it was the sensation of someone peering at you from the evening shadows.

As you texted Uki on the subway, it was the phantom touch of fingers creeping along your waist or the hem of your skirt that felt too targeted to simply be an accident or a random groper.

Wandering through the library was meant to be a leisurely adventure, yet as of late, you were instinctively hurrying your steps to Fulgur’s office, gripped by the thought of being followed.

Those were the moments when you craved to be alone, to be free of the fascination of those prying eyes, this obsessive presence.

You knew this building anxiety was soon going to drive you mad–this was no way to live after all.

And so, on a day when there was a downpour, the city swept with shadows and gloom, you blurted out a plea for company as you left work, your face flustered, your fingers digging into the strap of your bag.

By contrast to the moody gray clouds above, the friendly security guard of your company office was a needed ray of sunshine.

He pretty much embodied such radiance, with his bright blonde locks, the gentle look in his amethyst eyes, and the warm smile he showed as he nodded in response to your request.

Sonny Brisko was someone you could trust.

And what a blessing his presence served. He loomed so much taller above you and even out of his work uniform, he still looked so mighty and strong even in a cap, a white t-shirt and black jogger pants. Somehow, during this one trek back home, you felt peace at last from those creeping eyes, perverse fingers, and haunting presence.

The shining armor of your knight was a blue athleisure jacket and a black face mask and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Soon, your apartment complex was within sight at last. By now, night had completely swept over the city and with the stormy weather above, the light of the entrance lobby was blacked out as was the green light for the electronic passcode keypad.

A sign of a power outage.

It was a minor inconvenience, but one you could work around as you drew out your key to open the side door manually.

Your intention was to navigate your way up the stairway with the light of your phone on your lonesome.

Sonny’s hand reached for your wrist.

Gently, of course.

It was too dangerous to go alone, he remarked.

He did not mind escorting you further and the low dulcet timber of his voice was something you couldn’t resist.

You lived a few floors up, but he remarked how he was used to climbing a similar set flight of stairs.

All the while his hand rested along the small of your back as he ushered you through the darkness, the light of his phone and yours guiding your path.

He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body heat.

It was comforting at first, but as you got closer to your apartment, you couldn’t help but feel a chill that was slowly clawing its way into your body.

Something within your mind told you that loneliness was absolutely necessary as soon as possible.

Your front door was within reach soon enough.

You whipped out your key as quickly as you offered your thanks to Sonny, right as your eyes caught his.

Where there was once warmth and comfort was something crazed and dark.

Your door was barely open when his hand reached for your wrist once again.

Possessively, of course.

His large and daunting frame of his once brought a sense of protection and security earlier.

Now it was being used to make his way into your home, your sanctuary, all while his fingers reached for your cheeks, cupping them lovingly as he hummed with an all too sweet smile,

“You look lonely, love. Why don’t you let me in?”

#sonny brisko x reader #noctyx x reader #nijisanji en x reader #Noctyx smut #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing

[softsnzstuff]

Sicktember Day 11 - Beginners Guide to Faking Sick

Fandom: Stranger Things; Streamer AU

Summary: Eddie teaches you by way of vlog how to properly fake sick to get out of an event. Yes he uses chhinkni…

Word Count: 950

Eddie’s camera pointed towards where he was sitting at his gaming desk. He knew he had to film this quick while Steve was out buying groceries.

“What’s up guy! I’m back again and today we have to be quick while Steve’s out. There’s an event tomorrow that I really don’t want to go to… so I’m filming a little How To.”

He smirked to himself, “This is the beginners’ guide to faking sick.”

He removed the camera from the tripod and held it vlogging style as he paced around his room.

“A lot of people are gonna try and go for the fake chicken pox or stomach bug. It’s too complex!!! You want this shit to be two things. Believable and basic.”

“I used to try this stuff out as a kid, so I’ve basically perfected the act of faking sick. You can’t make it too medically scary or they’ll send ya to a doctor. We don’t want that. And it’s gotta be something you can keep up for a day or so. The trick is starting early so it’s not too suspicious.”

He set the camera down on one of the desk shelves as he used a key to open this small package on the desk.

“This stuff? This is supposedly going to be our miracle worker. It’s called chinky or cheeknee or something? Anyways it’s spelled like this.”

He holds the package of Chhinkni to the camera, his hand flat behind it so it’ll focus on the little vial inside the packaging.

“Supposed to make you sneeze I guess? Anyways - OOP!”

There was a thud of the front door closing before the muffled call came out, “Eddie I’m back! Can I get a hand with the groceries please?”

“He’s back! Gotta be fast…”

Eddie quickly unscrewed the cap of the vial and tapped some of the powder out onto the back of his hand.

“Here goes nothing.” He snorted it, making a face and scrunching his nose up, “Oooooh! That is something! Let’s see if it works.”

Still vlogging, he made his way out to the kitchen as if nothing had happened.

“Steve just got back from the store. Lemme set you guys down so I can help him with these grehhhh ugh.. SnF! Groceries… h’isssSHEW!! T’szuHEW! ii’KSHT!”

The older man pitched forward sneezing openly at the floor, away from Steve.

“Bless you! Cover those sneezes, Ed’s.” Steve winced, leaning slightly away as he unbagged the apples.

“Sorry, don’t know what’s going on. Been sneezing since you left…” Eddie lied.

He brought his left elbow up to his mouth, right arm holding it in place as he pitched forward again.

“G’tCHUhh! H’xxT! ….mpTSCH! hih.. EH’isshHiew!!”

Steve pressed a hand to Eddie’s forehead. “You feeling okay, bug? Those sound more… desperate than normal and it’s not allergy season…”

The older man sniffled wetly against the back of his hand, making Steve grimace. “My throat’s a little scratchy but I’m okay.”

Steve put a hand on the small of Eddie’s back and ushered him towards the couch. “You go chill while I unload these. If you are sick I don’t want your germs on my vegetables. Take your camera.”

Eddie faked a pout as he shuffled off to the sofa. “I got kicked out of the kitchen guys…”

*~*~*~

The next morning, Eddie is up early and sneaks off to the bathroom.

“Okay guys this is where the real acting comes in play.” He whispers. “I’m about to make myself look disheveled, but we’re also going to make use of a heating pad I borrowed from Robin and that chickeny stuff again.”

His hair is already messy from sleep, and he scrubs aggressively at his nose until it’s tinged slightly pink with irritation. He holds the heating pad up for the camera before pressing it to his face and the back of his neck for a while, fake coughing into his shirt to slightly muffle the sound.

He stashes the heating pad under the sink and snorts some more powder, grabbing some tissues for an extra pitiful look.

It doesn’t take long for the powder to start working, his inner nostrils absolutely buzzing with a tickle.

“H’etSHiew! ItssSH!! H’eSSHihew!”

He coughs loudly again until he hears Steve turn in the bed.

“Eddie? You okay?” The younger man’s voice is groggy with sleep.

“I’b okay Steve, go back to bed.. TSZIEW!”

Eddie turns off the camera and hides it before opening the door to head back towards the bed where Steve is sitting upright.

“You look awful.” Steve comments, pressing a hand once again to Eddie’s forehead, “and you’re really warm, Eds. I think you’re sick.”

“Hep’TsCh!” Eddie muffled a sneeze into his fistful of tissues. “Think you’re right.”

Steve frowns, “I’ll cancel brunch with my aunt then.”

“No no you don’t have to do that. I’m okay Steve, you should go.”

Steve hesitates, “Are you sure?”

Eddie nods and gives a weak smile. “I’m snff I’m sure.”

*~*~*~

While Steve is at brunch, Eddie is at his desk editing the video. He chuckles to himself at the ending shot of him vlog style waving to Steve as he leaves for the brunch alone. As soon as the door shuts, Eddie perks up and says, “THAT is how you fake sick.”

He posts the video after two hours of editing and goes back to the couch to the couch to scroll on his phone. When Steve comes back, he sees Eddie’s posted something.

“Pre-recorded video?” He asks the boyfriend on the couch.

“Something like that.”

As soon as Steve opens it and sees the title, he slaps his phone onto the table.

“EDDIE!!!!!”

#s/tranger t/hings #e/ddie m/unson #s/teve h/arrington #streamer AU #kb writes #kb au’s #steddiesnz #snzblr #sicktember 2023 #day 11

[k0mfort]

pls could I get mei dating hcs bless thank you 🙏

this is much much longer than what i expected, but i kinda got carried away because i love mei sm.. hope u enjoy anon ♡ please ask me more mei things..

♡ listen, if you want to date the narumiya mei — best pitcher of the generation, absolute ace of tokyo, blah blah blah — you have to be okay with not being his priority.

♡ mei has dreams, and so do you, but you have to admit that what he is aiming for is something that is too big even for you. but you believe in him, and you believe in the sort of process that it would take for him to get there. you are with him because you know how it would be and you are alright with it.

♡ and it gets hard, of course. you can never get used to the days where your messages would be left unread, or the way your study dates would end up with him snoring softly on your shoulders, tired at kunitomo's ruthless training regimens.

♡ mei knows that he is not perfect. and if there is any other way he can go about his life so that he can at least not be the source of your pain most times, he would take it. but this is a path that he chose. and he does not give up, nor does he not falter. he is narumiya mei. he will cease to be before willingly let go of his goal.

♡ but he loves you. dear god, he loves you. you don't know the amount of times he has sat in the dugout, peering under his battered cap, trying not to make it too obvious that he is hoping you are somewhere amongst the bustling crowd.

♡ he thinks that you are too good for him. for a bratty, overachieving jerk like him. you are too patient and kind, and he has done things that does not deserve your forgiveness. and yet, you stayed.

♡ you would visit him without a fail everyday — even on the days where you know that he won't be able to meet you. you would watch him from the sidelines, pride and endearment continuously bloom in your chest the more you see him. sometimes, you would even get him a drink from the vending machine, and you have to push him away so that he wouldn't hug you in his sweat-drenched, dirt-covered baseball uniform.

♡ so, on the dates you get to go to between his busy schedules, mei can't help but feel fidgety — even if he doesn't seem like it — and thinks over his words carefully. he threads on invisible ropes, not knowing what will be your last straw.

♡ but ignoring all of his anxiety, what mei loves doing on dates is taking photo booth pictures.

"Mei—" You whine as he practically drags you inside the building. Mirrors in funky shapes and sizes adorned the wall, and there are countless racks of sunglasses, headbands, and other fun accessories. "This is the second booth we see today. Can we not do this?"

"Don't be boring," he grins, already picking out headbands. He takes one with a crab claws coming out of it and scrunches his nose as he puts it on. "Do I look good?"

You purse your lips, holding in a titter before eventually bursting out in a series of laughter. "You look stupid."

"Ow," he pretends that something shoots him in the heart, clutching on his t-shirt with a pained expression on his face, eyes shut dramatically.

You push him away, still laughing, and he peeks through one eye just to savor the sight of your joy.

♡ he would put his arms around your shoulders as the sound of the camera shutter fill the room. he would let you kiss his cheek, or even pull you in to gently press his lips against yours — you are repeating washed up poses in every frame glued on his dorm walls, but he doesn't mind. he hopes that you don't either.

♡ but talking about the photo booth strips attached on his clear phone case, or in a key chain-frame on his baseball bag, or folded in his wallet, the way he just lets every single person he encounters that you are together is close to obnoxious.

♡ your face is obnoxiously his lock screen, your handwriting is obnoxiously on each one of his notebook, and every one of your call equals to a delighted, yet somehow obnoxious, grin on mei's face.

♡ he has given you one or two of his caps the same way he just keeps some of the lunchboxes you lend him, never really returning it back to you. the water bottle you are using is currently his, and the key chain on the keys to his dorm room is one he teasingly stole from your school bag.

♡ you gave him back cap once without a word. he wanted to push it back into your hands when he noticed the scribbled handwriting under it, with little doodles of hearts all over it. it's messy, and the ink was bleeding all over — you must have had a hard time with the marker. from that moment on, he kisses his knuckles only to press it against your handwriting before a fateful pitch. no one has to know. no one has to know except you and him.

♡ and of course the whole fucking baseball team.

♡ you've turned into a celebrity within the scope of inashiro's prestigious baseball team.

♡ all thanks to mei and his blabbering mouth, of course — you have to be kidding him if you give him, basically, all that a high school baseball player would ever want from their significant other and not expect him to show off.

♡ but they've known you for a while by now, and it's generally just amazing to them to see you so willingly and enthusiastically date mei the same way he is too to you.

♡ being jealous of him is, of course, a given.

"Someone get this man's phone away from him," Carlos groans rather loudly in the cafeteria as Mei laughs, kicking his shin softly under the table without even gazing up from his phone.

You are sending him a string of texts, telling Mei about your day, and sending selfies with the strange robot employee you met while upgrading your phone credit in town. When all that he can think about is to add the pictures that you just sent to his wallpaper carousel, Riku, from the far-end of the table, is feeding into Carlos' yaps.

"What's so funny, Mei?" His voice booms, asking a question that the answer to is just too obvious.

"Beat it," Mei shoots back, busy tapping away in his phone, letting his steaming rice grow cold. "Find some other jerk to annoy."

♡ you are dating superstar mei, though for some reason, he seems to be the one who would boast about you. everyone knows about him. but you? no one knows about the way you take care of stray cats you found on school grounds or how excellent you are at molding things into your own nature. and he would be damned if you end up living under his shadow.

♡ he shows absolutely no interest to a person if what they offer is no more than support for his baseball career. and while he is grateful for everyone on his side, some people take it too far. and one should know to never cross narumiya mei's line. he has no problem cutting someone off of his life once he realizes their disrespect of his relationship — of you.

♡ oh, but fights with mei are quiet, and tearful. never in public, and always in secret. while mei basks on the spotlight usually on him, neither of you enjoys negative attention. communication really is key — though he is aware of every single one of his actions and words, slips-up cannot be avoided. the same thing goes for you.

♡ and mei doesn't really know why, but he doesn't cry even if you do. even on the verge of separation, or in a heated debate. his mind goes numb as fire takes over his body. during times like this, all he wants to do is swing his bat at nothing in particular, and hope that the problem would die after his 50th. but that isn't how life works, and that isn't certainly not how relationship works. mei is realistic, above all else, and to not be a hypocrite, he tames the temper raging in his bones and sit himself down. in all the times he has swallowed his ego for you, he always wishes that you would do the same to him.

#mei #narumiya mei #daiya no a #daiya #narumiya mei x reader #ace of diamond #daiya no a x reader #headcanons #anon ! #requests: daiya

[callmearcturus]

curious about your on-the-go fic-writing keeb and how it's set up. also the whole switches post gave me the incredible desire for some sort of "what's in my bag" sitch. thank you i liked reading about your switch opinions.

Oh hell yeah sure.

So my mobile keyboard is amazing.

This is an EPOMAKER NT68. It's a 65% bluetooth keyboard that I have used to, at this point, write about 80% of the PT Benji AU. It's a fucking joy to use.

I got it on sale from Bezo's Store for about 70 bucks (it's 95 right now). At the time, it came with Gateron Blacks installed but literally like seven of the fucking switches had bent pins and had to be replaced. It came with five spare switches so I was p pissed.

Which, I was fine obvsly because I keep buying switches on the cheap.

Okay but about this specific keyboard:

EPOMAKER NT68

Haimu Whisper Silent Tactile switches (which I LOVE, very good feedback without a ton of sound, great of typing at work)

Cannoncaps CXA Superplum (which is to to date the only caps I have ever paid full price for which I should not have done except they might be my Actual Favorite Profile. this is unfortunate bc they fucking never going on sale, but that special spacebar shape is incredible)

my lil vinyl record player artisan was a gift 8) the maker is 2Tcraft on Etsy

What I love about this keyboard is that

It allows for three BT connections at a time, so i can swap from my phone to my home PC to anything else with two buttons

the sound of it on a deskmat is actually one of my favorite noise profiles of any keeb I've used

it is the most portable keeb without going into weird Nuphy keebs (which I did consider a lot) or going Ortho (which I ALSO considered but this was before Akko put out an affordable Ortho option, god bless Akko)

it has a felt magnetic sleeve that can be folded around the keeb to protect it or into a lil triangle to prop your phone on, which I use all the time. when this thing starts wearing out, I will be very sad.

it fits into my cheapass Vera Bradley crossbody bag so i bring it with me everywhere and I have genuinely used it a fucking lot, like a LOT.

it is a major conversation starter, everyone at work wants to know more about it which is fun.

obviously I had switch issues with the stock keeb and had to swap out some non-working switches, BUT the stock is honestly very good otherwise and the caps it comes with feel perfectly fine. you can use them for a while without issue.

some caveats:

this thing is an investment. i told myself that basically this is what my patreon is for and I saved up for a few months to justify it to myself. i'm glad I did it but also Oof That Pricetag.

the software for this thing is fuckign incomprehensible. i have tried many many times to add some hotkeys to it and fucking forget it. I managed to turn off the lights and that's all I'm doing with it. if you want this for coding and need something very easy to add layers to, FUCKING FORGET IT. go get one of Drop's Orthos instead.

sometimes i type too fast for this thing lmao. it doesn't happen often but like if i'm REALLY going max speed, it will every once in a while (like once in a paragraph) miss a key. I'm fine with this because it doens't happen with casual use.

it is portable but you are gonna need to find a bag for it to fit into. It fits perfectly into a Vera Bradley Sling Backpack, which I picked up on clearance from my local Hallmark store oddly enough.

#witchbandit #mechanical keyboard

[drgairyuki]

My 1st Randomly Generated Marine Chapter

This was my first attempt at creating a Space Marine Chapter randomly.

So I decide to randomly create and generate a Space Marine chapter by using and messing around with 1d6chan(rip 1d4chan)'s Space Marine Chapter Creation Table and Roll A Die to get the results. Why? Because I thought it would be fun. Note; I did for fun, and there is going to be a lot of interpretation and speculation on my part, but I guess that's the part of the fun.

So here are the results of this me messing around;

______________________________________________________________

Chapter Origins: Why Was The Chapter Founded? (d10) 10: Crusade - "We need people running around and hitting the Imperium's enemies. Found a Chapter!"

When Was The Chapter Founded? (d100) 97: M41/M42; Ultima Founding consisting of Primaris Marines. Actually in two waves (+ intermittents in-between), first in 999.M41 and 000.M42, intermittent foundings during the intervening years to replace destroyed chapters or garrison key areas, and the second in 012.M42 after the first phase of the Indomitus Crusade ended with victory at the Battle of Raukos from the last core of Unnumbered Sons veterans, capping off the largest founding in history.

Who was the Chapter's Progenitor? (d100) 71: Dark Angels

Chapter Properties and Flaws: Gene-seed purity (d10) 10: Flawed - Chapter's gene-seed is flawed and sets them apart from their progenitor - roll on Chapter Flaws table

Chapter Demeanour (d10) 10*: Uphold the Honour of the Emperor - Performing unheroic acts? *BLAM* NO or alternatively, since I'd already rolled 10 once for above, I decide to roll again and I got... 1: Swift As The Wind - Going slowly and thinking things out? BLAM NO

Based on the Chapter's Progenitor, how likely are they to suffer gene-seed mutation? (d100/d20) Dark Angels - 10% (1-2) d100; 44/d20; 12

If they have a new mutation, what is it? (d10) 7: Lost zygote - Something's gone. One of the silly EMPRAH-BLESSED things like the Betcher's Gland or Melanchromic Organ, not something critical like the Black Carapace

Progenitor-specific mutation Dark Angels Lost zygote

Lost Zygotes (d100) 60: Oolitic Kidney Since I got really confused and didn't know really about interpreted them above as I didn't know if it there only need to be one lost zygotes or two, I decide to roll again 100: Roll twice on this Chart 68: Neuroglottis 59: Oolitic Kidney* I'd already rolled for Oolitic Kidney, so either the above is good enough or I reroll again 27: Occulobe

If one exists, what is the Chapter's Flaw? (d10) 4: Pride in the Colours - The Chapter hates doing anything that covers their livery, including wearing Deathwatch black.

Chapter Legends: Figure of Legend (d100) 96: Battle-Brother (roll d10 twice to determine company and squad). I decided to roll both 2d10 once and roll 1d10 twice 6 & 7: 7th squad of 6th Company or alternatively, 5: 5th Company 4: 4th squad

Deeds of Legend (d100) 69: The figure led an action against an Eldar craftworld, boarding it and inflicting grievous casualties before withdrawing. He and his Chapter are especially hated by the pernicious Eldar, for whom the event is still fresh and raw.

Chapter Homeworld and its Properties Chapter homeworld (d100) 35: Feral World

Fleets 10+d10 vessels: 8

Homeworld terrain (d100) 29: Desert

Rule of homeworld (d10) 3: Stewardship - "Hi, Planetary Governor? It's me, the Chapter Master. Just calling you to remind you that I outrank you, even if I don't do anything."

Not Fleet-Based, so I can ignored that

Tactical and Strategic Organization d10 Result - Chapter organisation and Variant Base Chapter 10: Unique organisation/Unique(Codex)

Combat doctrine (d10) 6: Drop Pod

Characteristic Chapter Training (d100 Result) 44: Endure Anything: Training in this chapter emphasizes the need for any squad to be ready to endure any trials they find themselves in. They produce tough, durable brothers with diverse specialties.

Chapter Specialities Specialty restrictions (units the chapter cannot field) - Only roll if Unique Organisation was selected (d100) 15: Apothecary (someone still needs to collect the progenoids)

Special equipment- Roll once if Divergent was selected, twice if Unique Organisation was selected (d100) Rolling 2d100 81: Preferred Fighting Style: The Chapter has a specific way in which it prefers to go about killing the enemy in the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind. Examples: Bolt Pistol and Chainsword, dual Power Swords, special Bolter pattern or ammunition 99: Modified Weaponry: When the Chapter’s forges produce a weapon, they produce them in a style that is specific to their Chapter. Examples: Power Sabre, Bolt Pistol with weighted butt for clubbing. or alternatively, Rolling 1d100 twice 58: Blessed Wargear: It is common for members of this Chapter to have their Wargear blessed by a Chaplain before battle. Doing so puts the Battle-Brother’s mind at ease and more focused on the task at hand. 81: Preferred Fighting Style: The Chapter has a specific way in which it prefers to go about killing the enemy in the name of the God-Emperor of Mankind. Examples: Bolt Pistol and Chainsword, dual Power Swords, special Bolter pattern or ammunition

Chapter Beliefs What form do the Chapters' beliefs take? (d100) 84: Totem Creature - "You know how we've got an animal as our Chapter symbol? Yeah, we're going to stick that everywhere."

Chapter Strength At what strength is the Chapter? (d10) 2: Under Strength: The Chapter is recovering from a defeat or accident that occurred several decades ago, or has recently suffered heavy, but not irrecoverable losses. It is probably at a minimum of half strength, and should return to nominal strength within a decade.

Chapter Relations Who are your Chapter friendly with? (d100) 24: Another Chapter (choose one) Hhhmmmm… Maybe either the White Scars or the Space Wolves, depending on how your interpreted it.

Who are the Chapter's enemies?(d100) 27: The Tau Empire (alternatively, you may select a particular Sept, Commander, or Ethereal)

Ooooooo, the Tau Empire, my favorite faction in 40k (mostly due to the battle suit, so sue me :P), but I think I'll go with selecting a particular Sept, Commander, or Ethereal option. But i'll most probably do that in one of the reblog of this post.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #40k #1d6chan #random generator #random character generator #space marines #adeptus astartes

[mariana-oconnor]

Black Peter pt 2

I still maintain that Captain Carey shot himself with a harpoon. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Alighting at the small wayside station, we drove for some miles through the remains of widespread woods, which were once part of that great forest which for so long held the Saxon invaders at bay—the impenetrable “weald,” for sixty years the bulwark of Britain.

A mini history lesson from Watson for us. Was not expecting that. Thank you. This is very informative. And also an interesting little critical aside about industrialisation and deforestation in the Victorian era.

Stanley Hopkins [...] introduced us to a haggard, grey-haired woman, the widow of the murdered man, whose gaunt and deep-lined face, with the furtive look of terror in the depths of her red-rimmed eyes, told of the years of hardship and ill-usage which she had endured. With her was her daughter, a pale, fair-haired girl, whose eyes blazed defiantly at us as she told us that she was glad that her father was dead, and that she blessed the hand which had struck him down.

Firstly, good for her. Secondly, do these ladies not get names? No names available for them? They have to be immortalised only in their relationship to an abusive dead man. Although I supposed the daughter is described as 'her' daughter rather than Carey's.

Clearly they aren't viable suspects if they don't have names. Pity. They deserved to do it.

Stanley Hopkins drew the key from his pocket, and had stooped to the lock, when he paused with a look of attention and surprise upon his face. “Someone has been tampering with it,” he said.

Someone wanted their book back, perhaps? But apparently someone not very good at picking locks. Sucks to be them.

"Let us walk in these beautiful woods, Watson, and give a few hours to the birds and the flowers."

He does love his walks through the countryside.

It was past eleven o'clock when we formed our little ambuscade.

Excellent word. This is the second time it has arisen. Means 'ambush' and last time we saw it, I believe, was when the poor cook in Wisteria Lodge was arrested for a crime he did not commit, that the police officer in charge of arresting him knew he did not commit. That's an unfortunate connotation for a good word.

What savage creature was it which might steal upon us out of the darkness? Was it a fierce tiger of crime, which could only be taken fighting hard with flashing fang and claw, or would it prove to be some skulking jackal, dangerous only to the weak and unguarded?

Watson's really getting into this. We're back with the tigers again, but also Jackals. Rude, btw. Anubis might want a word. Jackals hunt bigger animals in groups. Honestly, I wouldn't want to meet a tiger or a jackal in the middle of the night.

'Tiger of Crime', though. What a phrase.

The nocturnal visitor was a young man, frail and thin, with a black moustache which intensified the deadly pallor of his face. He could not have been much above twenty years of age. I have never seen any human being who appeared to be in such a pitiable fright, for his teeth were visibly chattering and he was shaking in every limb. He was dressed like a gentleman, in Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with a cloth cap upon his head.

This was all very atmospheric until we got to the word knickerbockers, which just isn't a word I can ever take seriously. Honestly the problem with knickerbockers is that when you actually see a picture of them, they're really very boring looking. They shouldn't be. It's such a comedic word.

He returned with a large book, one of the log-books which formed a line upon the shelves. Leaning on the table he rapidly turned over the leaves of this volume until he came to the entry which he sought. Then, with an angry gesture of his clenched hand, he closed the book, replaced it in the corner, and put out the light.

OK, so not after the book they found, but just after some information from one of the books. Hmmmm.

“First of all, what is your name?” “It is John Hopley Neligan.”

Well now you've got a name, you're definitely a suspect. Luckily for you it has the same initials as in the book they found, which officially makes you Too Obvious.

“Can I speak confidentially?” “No, certainly not.”

At least they are being honest with him.

"It has always been said that my father stole all the securities and fled. It is not true. It was his belief that if he were given time in which to realize them all would be well and every creditor paid in full. He started in his little yacht for Norway just before the warrant was issued for his arrest."

...

Bye! I'm off to Norway, but I'm totes innocent and not stealing any money. See you!

"He left us a list of the securities he was taking, and he swore that he would come back with his honour cleared, and that none who had trusted him would suffer. Well, no word was ever heard from him again. Both the yacht and he vanished utterly."

... John... I hate to break this to you, but I don't think he was going to Norway to work things out.

Like, maybe in the story he was, but this is just such a fake death. "Daddy's gone to Norway to make everything better, little Johnny!" Mmhmm. The only way this could amuse me more is if he were in a canoe.

"We had a faithful friend, however, who is a business man, and it was he who discovered some time ago that some of the securities which my father had with him have reappeared on the London market."

You astonish me.

The entire framing of this story makes me feel like in the story Neligan Sr. is as innocent as his son believes and was done dastardly by Captain Carey in some way, but this story is so unbelievable. Gonna just nope out of there and sail to fucking Norway and that will totally solve all our problems? The logic. The reason. The chivalry of leaving your wife and child behind to deal with the disgrace and your disappearance alone. Daddy was a dickhead, Johnny boy.

"It struck me that if I could see what occurred in the month of August, 1883, on board the Sea Unicorn, I might settle the mystery of my father's fate."

Yes, I am going to put a narwhal gif whenever the ship name comes up. If ACD didn't want this to happen, he should have named the ship something else.

“You have nothing else to tell us?” He hesitated. “No; there is nothing.”

“Then how do you account for that?” cried Hopkins, as he held up the damning note-book, with the initials of our prisoner on the first leaf and the blood-stain on the cover.

Hopkins is really channelling Holmes here with his dramatic reveal.

And it seems like Neligan Jr here really should have been coming back to get his own book. He just didn't realise he'd dropped it. Which is weird. If I had been at a murder site earlier and then found out I had lost something, my mind would immediately spiral into 'oh shit, you dropped it at the murder site, you utter numpty', but apparently John Neligan does not doom spiral like I do. Apparently this possibility hasn't even occurred to him. Not a thought between those ears, huh?

“That is enough,” said Hopkins, sternly. “Whatever else you have to say you must say in court."

Or... you might say... You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say can be given in evidence.

Or... something like that. Eventually. When the official Police Caution comes in.

"As it turns out your presence was unnecessary, and I would have brought the case to this successful issue without you..."

Ah. Hopkins. You were doing so well up to this point. But now you've gone and cursed yourself. Sorry. I don't make the rules.

And then they all went to tea at the Brambletye Hotel and had lashings of tea.

But no... there is still another part. Obviously, because we all know Captain Carey was killed in a (not so) tragic Harpoon cleaning accident, so Mr Neligan has to be freed.

#Letters from Watson #Sherlock Holmes #Black Peter #long post

[justalonelybitch]

Perfection

Irene x F!Reader 

Genre: Yandere AU

Warnings: Stalking, Breaking and Entering, 

Word Count: 890

Buy me a coffee :)

The cold nipped at her porcelain skin, wind whipping in her face as she tugged a cap over her head. Her eyes darted around in desperation, flickering over several masked faces in the bustling crowd. She began to grow impatient, perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowing doubtfully. The sun rapidly descended from the clouds, the chill of the night ushering people inside. But Irene remained still, body tense as she lingered behind, pretending to occupy herself with her phone.

She unconsciously gripped her device tighter, knuckles turning white as she clenched her jaw in frustration. You were supposed to be here, she always waited for you after your shift. So why were you so late? Irene liked to think you were teasing her, purposely depriving her of your presence for you knew how much attention she carved from you. You truly were cruel, insisting on keeping her waiting like some dog on a leash. She was wrapped around your finger, willing to do anything just to see your pretty little face. So she waited.

The faint clacking of heels along the pavement alerted Irene, her gaze subtly lifting to catch a glimpse of its source. There you were in all your glory. Time had graciously slowed for her, blessing her with the opportunity to take her time as she admired your beauty. The wind blew the hair from your face, giving her a good view of your angelic features. A coat hugging your figure, ravishing legs exposed all for her. The moon kindly illuminated you, skin glowing in the moonlight as the stars twinkled in your doe eyes.

A smile tugged at the corners of your rosy lips, dimples on display just for her, she loved little thing about you. The scent of your soft perfume invading her senses as she breathed it in, allowing herself to become intoxicated by your sweet smell. Her eyes briefly fluttered shut in bliss, a sigh escaping her as she relished your fragrance. She was hooked, addicted to everything about you and she couldn't get enough. She stared intently as you neared her, watching as you raised a perfectly manicured hand to brush the stray strands of hair from your face. She always despised how they tried to hide your perfect face.

Her heart beat thumped obnoxiously loud in her ears, the pounding in her head becoming nauseating as she fought to steady herself. Irene curled her hand into a fist, fingers aching to trail over your delicate skin. She wanted to lock you up in a glass case and cherish your perfection for the rest of her life, to devote herself to you. She would do anything to have you to herself.

Her pupils dilated when you finally reached her, she was dizzy, head spinning as she fought to remain conscious. She wouldn’t dare miss the chance to catch a glimpse of your pure angelic beauty. Your mere presence had her so frazzled and yet you seemed utterly unfazed. It irked her, you didn’t even spare her a glance. Irene trembled as your shoulder brushed against hers, it took all her strength to her as she willed her knees not to give out. Butterflies filled her stomach, a fluttering mess inside her. It was a sign, just another part of your sadistic game.

Her head spun as she trailed behind you, taking the familiar route to your apartment. Smiling giddily, bursting with joy as she let her mind flood with thoughts of you. She beamed as you trudged up the final steps, keys jangling in your hand as you inched closer to the door. Lingering behind you, she was courteous, letting you pass through the threshold before her, slipping in silently behind you.

Irene frowned as you tiredly shuffled to the kitchen, letting her eyes wander around the apartment. It was exactly like she’d imagined it to be, perfect, not a thing out of place. She flinched in surprise at the sound of glass shattering, her head snapping to your suddenly rigid figure. She tilted her head in concern, sinking her teeth into bottom lips as she edges closer to you. Several pieces of glass now decorated your tiled floor, tainting the perfection.

Your eyes were bulging out of your head, your mouth hung open in shock. For every step she took forward you took one back, ending your short lived game of cat and mouse as your back hit the sharp edge of the counter. “What is wrong, love?” She asked, worry written on her face. You stood frozen in shock, eyes a swirling pool of emotions, unconsciously holding your breath. Your chest tightened as she reached out to you, a shrill scream ripping from your throat at an painfully loud volume.

Irene scowled in disappointment, swiftly clamping a hand over mouth, muffling your panicked yells for help. “Shh, baby. It’s okay, I’m here,” she purred in your ear. Your eyes were wide with terror, squirming in her grasp as you desperately tried to break free. She kept you pinned to the counter with her hips, palm pressed firmly to your lips as she waited for you to clam. Huffing, she relented, finally releasing you, “are you okay? You had me worried,” she voiced, gently caressing your cheeks with the soft pads of her thumbs.

You stared at her, dumbstruck by the events that had occurred. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, no words passing through your pink lips. Fear was present in your eyes. You felt so terrified, yet oddly calm at the same time. “Please tell me what’s wrong?” She asked, frown etched upon her face. You widen your eyes incredulously, baffled by the nerve she had. She awaited your confession silently, eyeing you intently.

“Who are you?” You asked unsteadily, voice wavering in terror.

#red velvet #red velvet x reader #red velvet imagines #red velvet irene #bae joohyun #irene #irene x reader #irene imagines #irene scenarios #red velvet scenarios #red velvet irene x reader #red velvet irene imagines #red velevet irene scenarios #yandere #psycho #writing #stalker #kpop #fanfic #wlw #gxg #irene x female reader #bae irene #irene bae #red velvet seulgi #red velvet wendy #red velvet joy #red velvet yeri #seulgi #wendy

[sleeperswakewriting]

levi and petra have a baby and their child is starting to talk but they end up calling levi “captain/heichou” instead and it’s the funniest thing ever

Rating: G

I need a compilation of Petra saying HEICHOU 😂

Some habits never die. For example, no matter how often Levi scolded her, she picked at her scabs. It doesn’t matter if they’re fresh or a week old, she can’t stand the idea of dead skin building up, bit by bit. Which only results in bleeding, and on her fair skin, she has dozens of tiny freckles made of scars. Arms, legs, thankfully she’s been blessed with clear skin, so her face is mostly absolved of aberrations after her teen years. 

One habit she never thought twice about was calling her husband of three years captain. He may be her husband, but he’s always been Captain Levi from day one. Cap was reserved for Eld, Captain Levi for Oluo and Gunther, and Petra shortened it to her version. Even back then, she wanted something special between her and Levi, even if it was his title, and Levi never minded until they got together. 

“But we’re still colleagues.” 

Levi frowned. Contrary to what his peers thought, military titles did not turn him on in bed, and he quite preferred to forget about work entirely when he was alone with Petra. 

“At work, you can still call me Captain. But when we’re alone, call me Levi.” 

Nodding, and still green in their relationship, Petra didn’t argue with him. His name naturally came out during sex, but when they idly completed their work and spent time in town together, captain just slipped from her lips.

And so, three years and a child later, Petra still calls him Captain. After the war ended, they moved from Paradis to London, and their life of war turned into hectic domesticity. Levi always preferred the city, feeling at ease slipping between alleyways and people not sparing glances. Petra’s taken some time to get used to the bustle, but she likes how no one knows who they are. Secretly, Petra thinks they moved here for the tea, per Onyankopon’s recommendations, but she’d be lying if she didn’t adore their little flat. 

Everything is new for them, and experiencing the wonder of the new world alongside their daughter is precious. She won’t have to know the horror of war, or at least they hoped so. Promise blooms in Petra’s chest and she clutches the bouquet of poppies she bought down the road. 

“I’m home!” she calls, her keys jingling from the lock. Butter wafts from the kitchen and sizzling echoes down the hall. 

Petra pokes her head into the kitchen and spots Levi in an apron, their daughter in a highchair with a bib and fresh mess along her cheeks. 

“Sit still,” Levi chides, wiping her face with a wet paper towel. A pout morphs into a scowl, and father and daughter wear equal expressions. 

“I just washed this bib!” he sighs, but his eyes are now mirthful when their daughter spits out the word no. 

Her first word was mama. Then no, which Petra blames Levi for. Since then, she’s formed other sounds, often one-word syllables like ball, yes, and cat.

“Do you want bananas or raspberries?” Levi holds out the two fruits in one hand each. Their daughter stares, nonplussed and her attention is drawn to Petra. 

“Mama!”

Levi immediately frowns, but he brightens at the brown paper bag in Petra’s hands. 

“Good day at the farmer’s market?”

She kisses his cheek and sets the bag down. “They had the oolong you like. I also got a sample of a new chai blend.”

Levi’s gaze softens. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

Grinning cheekily, Petra replies, “I can stand to hear it more often. Before I sit down for breakfast, let me put the flowers in a vase.” 

“If you’re going into the cabinet, can you get a teacup?”

“Sure thing, captain.” 

“Cap-taaaan!”

They both freeze. Their daughter is waving her arms up and down and repeats “Cap-taaaan!” looking squarely at Levi. His eyes grow steely and Petra internally gulps. She knows that look. It’s the look the guys and her used to fear, the one when he sucks in a breath, and his voice is so damn calm and professional that you can’t argue with him even though he’s assigned you forty laps.

“Petra,” he says dangerously. 

“Yes, captain?” she wavers, fiddling with the stems of the flowers. 

“We’re cutting that crap now.” 

“Crap!” their daughter sings and now it’s Petra’s turn to glare. 

It’s time to expand their daughter’s vocabulary.

#rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #levi x petra #my fics

[luna-rainbow]

I always wonder why the mcu keeps trying to push their peggy carter oc,like I understand characters aren't always going to be comic accurate and can be changed for better or worse. But what the mcu did with peggy is so weird to me

Staring off with the fact that she takes inspiration from a nazi spy , they even said so themselves she just doesn't take inspiration form Cynthia tho most of he likable traits are from other characters as well.

Going back to the Cynthia glass thing it's also uncomfortable that this peggy is also an alternate version of captain america even though they call her captain carter you can't escape the fact that she's supposed to be an alternate version of captain america.

I can understand wanting to make an alternate version of cap but why would you use the character that you've stated has taken inspiration from a nazi spy to represent a Jewish symbol who was made to fight nazis and for the oppressed it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

Thanks for the ask and sorry for the late reply!

I think the superhero genre, much like the Japanese equivalent of the shounen genre, is about power fantasies. That doesn't necessarily make them inherently trite or egocentric, though. A sensitive and knowledgeable writer can construct a power fantasy for marginalised folks, even those they are not a part of, and that's what people are asking for when they talk about "representation". People from all walks of life deserve an inspirational story and a power fantasy to project onto, to say that despite the barriers placed by society, it is still possible to fight against the restrictions and carve out a special identity for yourself. In a lot of the better written superhero stories, their powers are presented as something that is both a blessing and a curse/threat, and the story is about them accepting that difference and turning that into something good - as opposed to, often, their villains, who turn that into something used for bad.

And I think that's the key difference. Comics/manga are written for kids/adults who feel like they don't fit in (maybe manga especially, because of how suffocating Japanese society can be about fitting the norm). The fantasy lies in social odd-balls embracing their own uniqueness and doing good in spite of the world shunning them.

Once super-powered concepts hit Hollywood, the meaning changes. The writers are now (in general) people in positions of influence and affluence. They are confident in who they are, and in fact, they yearn to stand above the ilk. The power fantasy completely changes flavour - instead of an outcast learning to be happy with who they are, it is now about how a "normal" person gains something special that elevates them above the boring average folk.

The problem is - the former is usually sensitive to the struggles of marginalised folk ("we are different but we can be amazing"), while the latter is ignorant and self-serving ("I am amazing because I am not like other girls"). And because of the type of fantasy it is, it is not interested in exploring power as a potential flaw or a burden, it is simply about the celebration of strength.

This is all a long-winded way of saying, yes, PC is a power fantasy for a particular group of women - the middle-classed, primarily White, well-educated women, who do not want to be like other girls. She had to be made special at all costs - the private school/college education, the brother in MI6, the Howlies, the boxing champion, the directorship, and now finally the serum and the shield.

The implications didn't matter because the writers didn't care. She's their hero, this is a fantasy, and who cares if she recruited Nazis on her way to the top or that she wears a colonial symbol on her chest. Who knows, they (the writers) may even think of that as representation of her strength.

Remember how I said earlier how the heroes take their powers and make it into something good, while the villains use their strength and use it to do something bad? Welp.

#anti peggy carter #asks

[cellophaine]

Lingered Affection (Chapter XIII)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Word Count: 4306

Series Summary: You thought breaking up with Matt was the right thing to do. For his sake and yours. Life went on as you navigated through it with the lingered love and affection you still had for each other, neither of you could let go.

Chapter Warnings: Shitty parents, angst?

Author's Note: Here we are again. I'm late even with my promise to update from probably 2 weeks ago. I'm rusty as hell, and I've taken all this time for a measly 4k chapter. I'm very sorry about that 🥲

I'd love to hear your thoughts, so don't hesitate to reach out! Any likes, comments, reblogs, feedback and ask submissions are greatly appreciated!

P/S: Matt doesn't actually look like this in this chapter. He's just wearing a cap! GIF by @maggiemurdockremade

"They never did, and never will."

The warm breaths in his lungs turned to smoke in the bleak air of late winter. The sharp cuts of wind whisked by, dulled by the coat he adorned. Matt had forgone his armour tonight for a specific reason, and that reason had yet made a move. Hidden in the shadow of the alley, he patiently waited. The blood in his veins still simmered angrily, which was the only thing that kept him warm right now. The deep breaths he took did little to dampen the scorching fire that took hold, spreading red, molten marks across his mind.

Matt could still feel the trembling of your lips on his neck when he coddled you with his arms around you. You nestled in his embrace, your face, dampened with tears, buried in the crook of his neck. He held you close with one hand on your back, the other on the side of your head, woven into your hair, soothing you so you could fall asleep. The ghosts of your sorrow still lingered on his arms, where your fingers had been. You held onto him so tight that it felt like you were afraid he would disappear, as if he was the only person who existed in that moment. The heartbreaking sounds of your gutted sobs and rugged breaths seared his soul, leaving a wound that still ached now when he was out, looking for his target. It tore him from the inside out to leave after seeing you so anguished. You were more than someone he couldn't get over. And perhaps you were right. He loved you too much, so much that his existence was woven tightly around you. A life without you would be a life of pure torment and cruelty. And Matt intended to never let you slip from his grasp ever again. 

So here he was, protecting his future with you by any means necessary. Still, your mother's voice lingered around like an ugly bloodstain that somehow further wrecked something that was already so terribly wrong. 

They were led to the quieter part of the heated patio, away from other patrons. He could hear the intimate exchanges, the off-key notes in the birthday song from a short distance away, and the annoyed huffs of air with a demand for a dry martini from your mother. He listened as the server hurried away, leaving him and your mother in each other's company.

Matt didn't intend to start a conversation with your mother. He had heard enough. The lack of compassion, empathy and love for her own blood spoke for herself. Matt had witnessed many unspeakable things that one person might do to others. Still, to feel it happen to you was a different kind of torture. At that moment, being in the same room as your mother, the silence was a blessing. But curiosity won.

"What is your true purpose here? I think you've made it clear that you're not here to make peace with her."

Clarice huffed; an irritated click of her tongue resounded in Matt's ears.

"She thought she could deny her root, deny her own parents. We're here to remind her that she can't." 

Her dress scruffled lightly on her skin as she made herself comfortable in one of the chairs nearby. Matt didn't bother sitting down, and Clarice, who didn't bother with the fake pleasantries, let him be and rubbed more salt into the wound.

"I didn't raise her to be such a disappointment to me. Turning her back against her own blood. She owes everything she has to me, to her father."

His fist clenched hard on the cane, the rubber pushed against the calloused of his palm.

"You don't own her. She's not an object to possess."

Clarice slammed a fist onto the table, rattling the burning candle and the settings. 

"I gave her this life. So don't tell me that bullshit."

She leaned back, running her hands through her hair in an attempt to calm herself before continuing.

"It's not like she ever listen to senses anyway. She only ever does what she wants. Wasting her time on meaningless, impractical shit she calls art ..."

Her exasperation trailed off as a low and hasty pattern of block heels clicked rapidly on the floor, approaching the two of them. New scents entered the scene, something of a decent aftershave, a strong cut of mixed alcohol and a touch of citrus. That was how Matt felt at this moment. He was on the stage, reliving the tragedy that was your past with all the horror. Yet, the pain was so clearly present that he felt as if it had never left. 

Matt sighed, trying to drive the point home with his hidden gaze directed towards where Clarice was lounging, sipping on her dry martini. It was another normal day to her, as if she didn't see her runaway daughter just minutes ago.

"I can't see her works for myself, but I appreciate her passion and love for what she does. She's actually doing great, making a name for herself. Shouldn't you be proud?"

Matt remembered the way your voice changed when you talked about new discoveries, the way your body seemed to vibrate with excitement when you got to try new paints, the intense focus when you worked, and the joy radiated from you when you finished a piece. The gentle swirls, the light taps, and the soft stipple of your brushes on the canvas with precision meshed together, creating your own rhythm that stuck in his head. A song that was always changing, and so unmistakably yours. 

Your mother scoffed, dismissal weighted heavily in her words.

"Proud? What is there to be proud of? It clearly showed that she's not that much well-off now than when she left home. So please, tell me: how can she pay us back when we want it?"

Something clicked in place for Matt. For a moment, he saw you through your mother's lenses. You were nothing but a mere investment, something to be controlled with force and bruises. At the realization, he was revolted, his jaw clenched, his body ran warm with utter disbelief and anger.

Matt was proud of the person you had become despite what your parents put you through. You came to New York with little to no money. He remembered your cheap plastic palette caked with old paint; the texture was rough with chips of pigment that lingered on his fingers when he touched it. You helped him wash them away with gentle hands and told him how you didn't have the heart to throw the palette out because it had stuck with you for so long. It reminded you of when money was tight, when you couldn't afford basic necessities, much less a better piece of art supply.

Despite your struggles, you never asked of him anything. You even scolded him when he tried to help you with basic stuff. Your independence was admirable, and he loved you all the more for it.

Clarice took Matt's silence as a sign to carry on with her rant. 

"We fed her, clothed her, we gave her a roof over her head. Many, many people don't have that. She owes everything to us, and what did she do? She smeared shit all over this family's name."

His fist clenched tighter onto the cane as if he could crack the handle from the sheer force. Matt cleared his throat but did not succeed in keeping the touch of indignation from spreading in his voice.

"You fulfilled her basic needs. That doesn't exempt you from the abuse you put her through."

Your mother chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. The delicate clinks of her expensive earrings contrasted the unpleasant crackle in her forced laugh.

"Is that what she told you? That we "abused" her? She's always been this dramatic, exaggerating what simply was discipline."

She took a deep breath to compose herself.

"You don't know what real discipline is. I wouldn't expect you to understand, Matthew. From what I know, your father wasn't a very good example. He didn't stay around long enough to at least try to be a good one anyway."

He was taken aback by the malicious intent in her words. His brows furrowed, his lips parted as the unexpected blow descended on him.

"How did you know?"

The calmness in his tone was deadly. But Clarice didn't notice, as she took a sip of her drink before calmly carrying on.

"After we found her through our private eye, we had them looking into her life here. We needed to know what kind of people my daughter associates with. Admittedly, there wasn't much to read about, except for you. And I must say, I'm immensely disappointed."

His patience has reached its limit. And if he didn't get out of there soon enough, he believed the fragrant smell of your mother's perfume would suffocate him to death. Your mother watched Matt through the rim of the glass as he sighed sharply, shaking his head. 

"You know what? I'm glad that you're here."

"Of course you are. Somebody has to knock some senses into her–"

Matt held out the hand that wasn't crushing the cane, effectively cutting her off.

"If it wasn't for you, she'd never leave that hell hole that you called her home. I'd never gotten to meet her, to get to know her. Despite your horrible parenting and abuse, she still turned out to be a good person. A better person than the both of you combined."

Clarice scoffed incredulously, clearly offended by the remark. She didn't bother to keep it civil anymore, letting the bitterness sink its teeth into her voice.

"And on what ground you're judging us on? You see us as greedy, materialistic devils with horns sticking out of our heads, don't you?"

He merely shrugged. Clarice stood up from her spot, stepping closer to Matt. He could smell the redolent note of rose in her perfume more clearly now, even with the scent of vermouth and gin triumphed over it.

"I doubt that the fund your dead father left you or whatever it is that you're living on won't last for much longer if you keep living the way you do now. You're a lawyer who does only pro bono work in a broke independent firm that doesn't earn jack shit. If my daughter had known better, she wouldn't be with the type like you."

Matt's nose wrinkled slightly at the proximity, but he entertained her by not backing away. His voice came out certain and unwavering.

"She loves me for who I am, not for my money or what I can offer her."

Clarice sneered; her pointed finger stabbed his chest, the sharp nail dug into the soft material of his shirt.

"And who are you without it? Money equals privileges, and even God can't help you when you're down on your knees, begging for scraps. I've been there before, and trust me, you don't want that to happen to you."

Matt's hand came up to meet Clarice's, removing her finger from the lapel of his suit with the lack of kindness he often extended to others. Your mother spoke lowly in warning, unfaltering from Matt's crude action.

"If you know what's best for you, you'll stay out of our family business."

Matt huffed, his lips lifted at a corner in a mocking, almost challenging, manner.

"No, I'm fine where I am. Which is next to her and away from you two."

He stormed out of the patio, searching for the door with the help of a waiter nearby. Coming back to the cozy atmosphere inside, Matt heaved hard; his chest felt constricted with every breath he took. But, at the very least, he was out of your mother's suffocating company. His pace quickened, maneuvering between tables towards the scent of you, towards the pattern of your heartbeat. From this distance, he could pick up the trail of your conversation, which wasn't going well considering your father's last words.

"... still very naive. Let this be a reminder that I'm your father. I know you best."

That only fueled his anger, stoking the flame in his chest. He wanted to get you far from there, protecting you from the reaching claws that once sunk into your flesh and mind, feasting on your spirit until you were nothing but an image. A ghost in your own mortal body. It took all of his self-control not to rough your father up right then and there. He understood the risks and how it would only hurt you had he acted on his violent urges. So, he settled for a warning with an idea that quickly took shape in his mind.

The familiar scent of gunpowder, metal, and paper returned, pulling him out of the mist he was in. Matt listened as the footsteps receded, moving towards the main street. He tugged the cap on his head to cover most of his face before moving silently, following the trail your father left behind.

It took him a while to find Arthur. He started with the faint trace of expensive cologne and champagne from the restaurant. It was no easy feat, but eventually, he tracked it down to a fancy brownstone in Chelsea. Your parents' voice echoed between the walls, and Matt caught onto the vague exchange about your father's whereabouts for the next few hours. Arthur going out at this odd hour in the night was not the only thing that alarmed Matt. It was also the men that came to pick him up. They were armed with guns and what could be short blades for closed-up combat, all hidden within the layers of their clothes. Everything about this felt wrong. 

Matt flagged down a cab and asked the driver to follow your father's vehicle. The car they were in was soundproof, making it harder for him to decipher the muddled sound. The route was meticulously planned, weaving between the quiet neighbourhoods and empty streets, staying away from the prying eyes of unwanted audiences. After what felt like a far enough distance from the starting point for the air to change, the car stopped. Your father and his men stepped out before continuing on foot. Matt waited a moment before leaving the cab and following their tracks while taking in his surroundings. The area was a quieter part of the city. Judging by the salt air, piscine smell and musky atmosphere, he suspected he was in Lower East Side, not too far from East River.

Matt kept his head down and the collar of his coat close to his face. Trailing behind them with an unsuspecting distance, he went into an empty alley when the group entered a building. The door opened briefly for Matt to catch onto the gentle vibrations of some machines and water sloshing. He focused on their heartbeats when they gradually faded, and to his confusion, disappeared completely. His wariness grew as he refocused and tried to find your father again, only to fail.

He crept up to it to scout for more details. From this vantage point, he could smell the strong floral scent of fabric softener, detergent and bleach. The sound of fabric rubbing against each other in the machine told Matt what he needed to know: this was a laundromat. He listened more and couldn't hear the heartbeats he had lost track of for an unknown reason. But it also gave him an opening. 

Matt inched closer to the building until he stood before its door. Taking a deep breath, he went in. A person on his left sat on the table with their feet dangling to the beat in their headphones. The volume was so loud it made him concerned for them. Matt faked being drunk, keeping his posture low and unbalanced, and lucky for him, the only person in the laundromat didn't pay him any mind. He searched around with his sense to find an empty room adjacent to this one. He went for it, making his way to the back of the room where the entrance was. His hands searched along the wall for the door, which opened after a great effort to wrench the rusty latch off. 

Immediately, Matt was hit with a potent smell of bleach and disinfectant. It was so overwhelming that he had to stop to regulate his breathing for a few seconds. After his senses adjusted to the odour, Matt desperately tried to root out the distinctive scent of Arthur, the tang of gunpowder, anything that could give away where they had gone. Yet, he came up empty. It was almost as if they had disappeared into thin air before him, much to his bewilderment. All he could hear was a loud cough in the laundry room and the gentle lulls of the washing machine. Nothing was out of sort. It was a regular night, just like any other. 

In the days after that night with your parents, you fell hard into a cycle of reliving the old memories and pain that came alive. You let them go haywire and dealt with them piece by piece until your head couldn't take it anymore. The little progress you made was towards the reluctant and yet, clear acceptance that your parents didn't love you. The part in you that was still in denial of the fact resisted, deflecting and blaming that you didn't deserve love at all. You simply were not worth it in their eyes. And it crushed you. Even though it was only a result of your mind's manifestation, it still hurt. It was like a stray thread that you kept pulling. Pulling and pulling until there was nothing left but those bitter thoughts of how you could change and be better to fit into your parents' ideal. If you had cut your dreams short instead of nurturing them. If you had accepted everything they gave you instead of running away. After all, you weren't the only one with parent issues.

You were torn between what you knew was right and what you thought you deserved. The notions fought in your head, and they never quieted down. You couldn't shut them out. You drew into yourself, feeling vulnerable with your thoughts exposed and bare for your own judgement. 

Always ungrateful. 

They didn't have the right to do that to you. 

Always inadequate. 

Sleep didn't come easy. Your eyes couldn't stay shut through the night. As soon as Matt was gone on his duty, you found yourself wide awake. The morning came, and you stayed up with the sun, forcing yourself to be useful by working from home. Matt's presence always lingered at your side, sometimes from a distance away. He watched over you in his own way, taking care of you the way he knew how. He ensured you ate enough, much to your resistance and even lack thereof. And he was there to chase away your thoughts when they became too much. Matt did it wordlessly, for he knew almost nothing could coax you out once you were in deep. He did it with kisses on your forehead and temples. More tender pecks fell on your shoulders when he held you close; soft rocks back and forth and smoothing hands on your back brought you to sleep easier. He doted on you, knowing how much you needed it. 

Still, you couldn't help but feel a nagging sense of being a burden again, just like those weeks that led up to your breakup. It was only a few months prior, yet, so much had changed. 

One thing stayed the same: you closed yourself up and spared Matt no detail of that night. You shut him out of your overbearing thoughts. Your self-pity felt so insignificant that you hoped it would go away on its own. Guilt overflowed, for you knew he waited for you to be ready to talk. And Matt, being the ever-so-patient man he was, let you be. He didn't push for what was said, silently and earnestly providing you comfort and relief.

Your grief for something you never had gradually turned into anger. You slowly came to terms with reality and picked yourself up with a renewed sense of purpose. You were driven by resentment and the disgust you had for your parents. For once, you wanted the upper hand. You thought about the project he told you, the very reason that brought him to New York, and decided two could play this game. 

You got out of Matt's apartment after days of making a dent in his home. You went out more often and seemed more energized when you returned late at night. Matt took that as a positive sign, and you knew he wouldn't approve if he knew it was for all the wrong reasons. But fuck that. You wanted to pursue this new purpose rather than wait for your father's move. And when that purpose was given the green light in the notification of a coming text, it was just in time for the fundraiser. 

Your reflection in the mirror looked much better than how you felt. With the well-fitted knee-length gown and some colour to your cheeks, you cleaned up nicely even with the absence of decent nights of sleep. Still, you could see the bags under your eyes, the lack of energy, a hollowed-out shell of a person that was only half there. The suppressed wrath danced in your blood, along with the anxiety of what might unfold tonight. You needed everything to go smoothly. As smoothly as you could manage without Matt knowing.

Speaking of the devil, Matt called for your attention through the device on top of your dresser. You let it ring once, twice, before answering. Your nickname in his voice on the other end poured into your ears, soothing with a touch of uncertainty.

"I thought I would see you at my place by now. Where are you? Is work holding you up again–?"

"– no, it's not work. I'm… I'm at my place. I'm just not … feeling well right now."

You inwardly chastised yourself. Lying to him, again. But it was only this time, right? It was only a harmless little white lie with no repercussion. You had to ensure that he couldn't find out. A brief silence passed, and when you thought he had caught your lie, his tone came through with a finality.

"I'm coming over."

"No!"

Realizing the harshness in your verbal reflex, you eased back.

"I mean– it's okay. I'm okay. It's nothing. You don't have to come over."

The words rushed out of you. It was almost as if returning to the warmth of Matt's arms had chipped away your ability to lie to him. There was a pause on his side as if Matt tried to see you through. 

"Sweetheart, is everything alright?"

His gentle and urging tone made you mentally kick yourself. He was probably worried about you, and here you were, shielding yourself from him again.

"Yes, everything is fine. I'm fine."

Another moment of hesitation, and you felt like your heart couldn't beat any louder.

"Are you sure? You seem–"

"I said I'm fine."

You cut him off sharply, your tone cold and distant. You hated how you put yourself into this position. Lies, lies and more lies. 

"No, you're not. Don't lie to me."

Matt was right, but his gentle demand triggered your defence mechanism.

"Why do you think I'm lying to you?"

"The way you're acting right now makes me think like that."

You couldn't help the way your pride rose to meet with the accusing tone on the other end. Your voice quivered slightly at the edge, but it came out steady, offended with sarcasm dripped off the words.

"Oh? The way I act? And what is that?"

"All defensive and secretive, like you're hiding something."

Fuck. Matt being right only pushed at your stubbornness in the worst way. A taunting satisfaction dangled before you, and in the heat of the moment, you gladly took the bait.

"Maybe I have nothing to hide. Maybe, I just want some space away from you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, regret washed over your tongue with a bitter taste of punishment. Matt didn't deserve this. You bit your lips hard, unable to bring yourself to say anything else. Silence spurred on. All you could hear was your spiralling heartbeat. 

You sighed, softening your voice.

"Look, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Nothing came from his end. Moments passed, and you didn't have the heart to bear it anymore. You hung up, exhaling loudly as if a hefty weight was lifted off your shoulders. You took another look at yourself in the mirror. Still tired and hollow, but now, a touch of guilt reached your eyes, seemingly dragging your posture down. You physically shrugged it off, standing up straight. For what you were about to do tonight, you couldn't let your nerves go astray. There wasn't time for this. The amends would have to wait until you got back.

You walked down the stairs, stepping into the busy pavement full of pedestrians going about their nights. You didn't have to wait for long until a black car with its windows tinted pulled up. You watched with careful eyes as the driver got out of the vehicle, nodding in acknowledgment. He pulled the door open, stepping aside for you to get in. An uneasiness rose in your stomach, but you tamped it down and settled into the leather cushion. The car pulled away towards your destination, with you unaware of the shadow that was only steps behind. 

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