Title: The Stranger Pairings: Hints of Bucky x Fem!Reader Other characters: Steve, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Bruce Warnings: Mentions of hydra and injury Word Count: 1,316
A/N: It’s been a billion years since I posted anything….sorry about that. Found this in my drafts and briefly read over it, it’s not the best but if there’s any interest I might continue it.
“What do you mean you brought a civilian in? The Avengers facility is for agents only.” Tony pointed out, as he stood outside the room of the stranger that had been brought into the building.
“She’s making some pretty crazy claims Stark, we’re seeing if her DNA matches up with what she was talking about. It’s not like this place is a secret, if she’s lying we find out why she’s here and let her go.” Natasha told the older man, her arms folded across her chest, Clint stood beside her looking in the hospital room. “The doors locked unless you have one of our key cards so she can’t leave, even if she could.”
“What do you mean if she could?” Tony frowned, copying her stance.
“A building literally fell on her and she somehow managed to hold the heaviest parts off of her body until we could pull her out.” Clint butted in, his eyes still on the younger girl who looked like she was late twenties, but he knew she was older.
“And what should we do with her until she wakes up? She’s a bit useless right now.”
Natasha rolled her eyes. “She claims Hydra kept her for a long period of time, a little less than they kept Barnes. We could see if he could confirm who she says she is, her first name at least. It’s a long shot but who knows.”
“What am I even doing down here? I had everything checked last week.” Bucky muttered to himself, Friday had called him down to the medical bay and wouldn’t tell him why. He continued walking until he was met with the other three Avengers. He was about to ask why he had been summoned to the lower level of the building when your still body caught his eye.
He took a step back, in mild disbelief before he moved to the door. “Open it.” He muttered, his eyes not moving from the bed. When no one stepped closer he requested it again and after a few seconds Clint’s card had unlocked the door.
Bucky rushed into the room, gently reaching for your hand as he swept your hair from your face gently. “When did she get here?” He asked quietly, as if he was afraid to wake you up.
“We brought her back twenty minutes ago, I assume you know her?” Romanoff spoke back, equally as quiet as she stepped to the other side of your bed.
“She was brought into the Hydra facility I was being held at….as my ‘play thing’.” He sighed. “I didn’t take advantage of the gift I was apparently given, they got sick of us talking for hours at a time and eventually just froze her. I didn’t see her after that, I assumed they’d….you know.” He muttered, his head dropping to look at her again. “That’s all I know about her. She was the only normal in my life for many years. She doesn’t look any different.” He sighed.
“You know she might not remember you if that’s the case? Hydra might have brainwashed her, she’ll have to stay in this room till we figure out what’s happened to her, she might not be on our side.” She told him.
He just nodded. “I’ll stay with her until she wakes up.”
With that Natasha left the room, shoving Clint from the doorway. “You know if she doesn’t remember him he’s going to be a mess.” Clint mumbled as the door was pulled shut. “He clearly cares for her.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we have to.” She sighed and ushered him away
The first thing you did when you felt yourself coming to was groan. The room was too light and your body was in the most pain it had been in, in a while. You felt a grip tighten on your hand and that’s when your eyes shot open. You hadn’t had anyone around you for years and suddenly you were having contact with someone?
You let your eyes adjust quickly before you saw the man gripping you tight. He remained quiet while you looked over his messy hair, his blue eyes, his metal arm, you continued your observing until you quickly looked back at his arm, the tell of who he was. “Bucky?” You frowned, your voice raspy from it not being used since you were screaming for help.
You saw all the tension leave his body as you whispered his name, he suddenly looked relieved. “Where are we? What happened to Hydra? Are you okay?” You said quickly, pushing through the pain in your throat and all around your body as you tried to sit up, which he stopped you from doing.
“Just take a deep breath..” He whispered, pressing the button behind the bed which would tell the others that you were awake. “All you need to know right now is that we’re both safe and away from Hydra.” He smiled sadly as he perched on the edge of your bed. “I thought you had died years ago, did they still have you?” He asked.
“The base was blown up a few years ago and the cryo chambers were turned off. Managed to get out after I defrosted and kicked my way out.” You half laughed at the memory. It really wasn’t a nice experience but you survived it.
“And the others that were there?” He asked, knowing you weren’t the only one locked in that hall of chambers.
“I don’t think the process was as smooth for them. I was the only one who woke up for some reason.” You told him, but any exchange of sympathy was gone when several people you didn’t recognise burst through the door, with the exception of the two who had pulled you out of the collapsed building you were stuck under.
You held onto Bucky’s hand tighter at the fact the room was full and everyone was peering down at you. “Don’t worry. We’re the good guys remember.” He whispered down to you when he felt you squeeze his hand.
Your eyes locked with Steve’s and you couldn’t stop looking at him. After what finally felt like hours you finally spoke.
Everyone’s gaze suddenly shifted to Steve, who looked clueless as to what you had just suggested.
“I think you have the wrong person..” Bucky mumbled to her, looking down at her seeing as Steve looked way too confused to actually say anything. “He’s been a bit too busy to you know…have children.”
You shook your head, adamant you were right. “It’s kind of hard to mistake your parent when he dresses as the national flag.” You pointed out.
“He’s right…I don’t have any children…Does she have concussion?” He asked, leaving the question open to the room.
“The DNA matches.” Natasha told him, looking over the sheet Bruce had just handed to her, he’d been working on your blood since you were brought in. Your claims were serious ones. “Not many people have the serum you have in you. It’s not as strong as yours but it’s strong enough to set her apart from everyone else.” She told him, passing the paper over.
Bucky frowned. “When did you find out? You didn’t know at Hydra did you?” He asked, his feelings suddenly conflicted.
“I went to visit my mom after I got out. I guess her confession matters the most.”
“Who was she? I might know her.” Bucky asked, you saw Steve look up as he waited for an answer.
“Oh you knew her alright.” You smiled, leaning your head back down on to the pillow. “The last names Carter. I’ll leave you to figure out the rest…Imma go back to sleep.” You muttered, a smile on your face as you fell back to sleep quickly, leaving the rest of the room in shock.
Do you ever sit there and think about Aaron Dingles arms? His biceps in that tub scene during ssw? When he wore that black shirt and folded his arms in the stairway after his ONS with finn? How he looked in that tight ass white button up during the stupid jailbreak episode? I mean, fuck. Every time that man folds his arms I die a little. I’d give my life for those arms.
Imagine you are Chibs’ Old Lady and the guys tease him about the age gap between the two of you but he shows you he is not an ‘old man’. *Smut*
Warnings: smut, language.
“Shut up,” Chibs grumbles, folding his arms across his chest defensively. The guys laughed.
“I mean,” Tig said, “I get that she likes older guys, but you’re old enough to be her grandfather!”
You knew it was an exaggeration, but you knew it pissed Chibs off nonetheless. The guys loved to make fun of the age gap between you and your Old Man and while you knew it was just fun, Chibs took it personally. You suspected it had something to do with him having already been married once but you never asked in case it caused problems.
“Yeah, how’d you land someone as young as her anyway?” Jam chimed in, “She’s, like, my age.”
You heard Chibs huff and decided now was as good a time as any to butt in.
“Chibs, we really get going, don’t you think? I still have to make us dinner and it’s getting late.” You said, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention and show your support.
He gave you a look, one eyebrow raised, that told you he knew exactly what you were trying to do. Still, he didn’t object. The two of you bid your goodbyes and rode home on your Old Man’s Harley.
“You know they’re only joking, right? They don’t really think you’re too old for me.” You told Chibs as you put a pot of water on the stove to boil. Chibs was leaning on an island bench, watching you from the other side of the kitchen.
He only hummed in response, too busy watching you bend over as you searched the refrigerator.
You were dicing up a carrot when you felt hands on your hips, followed by soft lips and scratchy stubble on your neck. You shivered and set the knife down.
“I could’ve chopped my fingers off, you know?” You said, but it came out halfhearted due to the lust that was quickly making you feel lightheaded.
“I wouldn’t let you get hurt.” Chibs mumbled into your neck.
This time it was you who hummed as you tilted your neck and leaned back on your husband. You could feel the bruise forming where your Old Man was sucking and biting at your neck. You let out a soft moan and, in return, Chibs growled lowly and spun you in his arms to smash your lips together in a fierce kiss. You gripped the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and letting his tongue slide into your mouth.
He stepped closer to you, trapping you between his hips and the bench. The felt the bench digging into your lower back but paid it no mind as you could also feel the tent in Chibs’ jeans pressing against your front. Your hands found their way into Chibs’ grey locks, tugging lightly. He reached behind you and shoved the chopping board aside, the carrots scattered, forgotten on the floor. He grasped your hips roughly, lifting you onto the bench. You spread your legs so that Chibs could come to stand between them as he kissed and nipped your neck and chest, pulling on the collar of your shirt to gain more access. (As he kissed you, you reached over to the stove and turned it off so not to burn the house down).
“I don’t care what they say,” he muttered between kisses, “I’m not too old to make you feel good.”
His hands gripped the collar of your shirt and before you could protest he pulled, buttons went flying and your shirt was ruined but you could care less; you’d worry about it tomorrow. Rough, calloused fingers toyed with your bra. He was rubbing and massaging your tits through the thin material, occasionally letting a digit or two slip in to tease your nipples.
You pushed him back (with a whine at the loss) only to push his kutte off his shoulders and pull his shirt over his head. The moment you had rid him of his kutte and shirt, you ran your hands over his chest, the small hairs tickling your pals, and then raked your nails lightly back down his pecs and stomach, stopping at the button of his jeans. Then, you removed your hands to undo the button on your own jeans instead.
“Come on then, old man,” you teased as you undid your jeans at a slow, tantalising pace, “show me what you’ve got left in you.”
Chibs gripped your wrists hard and removed them from your jeans so that he could undo them himself. He dropped to his knees in front of you. You lifted your hips up to help him drag the denim down your legs. He planted kisses along your inner thighs as the smooth skin was revealed. When he had finally rid you of your pants, he went for your underwear next. The bench was cold under you and you couldn’t help but feel slightly exposed from your position, but those thoughts left your mind the moment Chibs stood up and pushed down his own jeans, letting them pool at his ankles.
“Fuck me, old man.” You teased, tugging him closer to you and shuffling further towards him.
“I,” he said, lining his leaking tip to your entrance. He pushed in and you couldn’t contain the cry that spilled from your lips at the feeling of being so full. “Am not old.”
You didn’t get a chance to say anything more before your old man was pounding into you with all that he had. You threw your head back with a particularly loud moan and you felt yourself shudder. You felt like your whole body was on fire; his hips slapping against your thighs, your fingers tangled in his hair, his lips all over your body, every time he touched you felt hotter than the last.
“Do you like it when I take you like this?” He asked.
“God, Chibs, yes!” You moaned out but gasped when he hit your g-spot hard.
You felt your stomach tighten and you knew you were close to finishing. The way Chibs’ thrusts were losing rhythm told you he was too.
“Kiss me,” you ordered and he happily obliged.
The kiss was lazy and hard but passionate; your teeth were clashing but your tongues danced in perfect timing.
“Oh my- Chibs, I’m gonna come!” You whispered into his mouth.
He looked down at you through thick lashes, eyes clouded in desire.
“Good.” His voice was deep and rough, his accent thick. That alone was enough to send you over the edge. Your body shook as you came and you clenched around him. He kept thrusting as you rode out your orgasm, and soon he followed suit as he came inside you with a cry of your name.
He slumped and let his head rest on your shoulder as the two of you caught your breath. You hopped off the bench and put your hands on Chibs’ shoulders to steady yourself, your legs still shaky. Chibs, ever the gentleman, bent down to pick up your panties and his shirt. You thanked him when he passed them to you and slipped them on while he pulled up his own jeans.
“Sorry about your shirt, sweetheart.” He said, although he didn’t sound sorry at all.
You stood on your toes to kiss him deeply. “Do not apologise for that. That was amazing, and I, for one, will never call you old again.”
You didn’t miss the smug smile that made it’s way onto his face.
The second part of the short BR smut, this time with MINSU.(Warnings: blowjobs, language)
For some reason, there was something very addicting about the gaze of the person now sat across from you. So this was the “someone else”, huh? Your new supervisor had very fair hair and dark eyes. His skin was pale, which made his red lips stand out. Every now and again he would look up at you to check on you, before returning to his phone.
You could only be grateful that you weren’t restricted of movement, sight or speech this time. You looked over at the young man in front of you. And you had an idea. There was no way you were going to let Suwoong think you weren’t special to him, not after taking an interest in you. So what better way to lure him in than to make him jealous? “Hey,” you said, arms folded.
Jungkook listened to the crowd chanting his name. It was a melody so addicting it was like drug. He stepped out on to stage the music started and cheers got louder. He looked up at the crowd signs that told him how much he was loved everywhere. The nicest one was held up by his girlfriend Y/N. He glanced at the aisle. He saw a familiar man standing with his arms folding behind their back. Something about them made him scared. They were wearing a grey suit with sunglasses. Jungkook felt a the pit it the stomach worsen as he looked away. Unable to help it he looked back but the figure was gone.
You hugged Jungkook from the back “Sweetie that was such a great concert!”
Jungkook smiled as he turned around to give you a peck on the lips “Thank you babe.”
You studied Jungkooks face for a moment, something was off. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. Instead they were clouded by worry and fright. “Kookie? What’s wrong? You don’t feel good about the show?”
“No” He sighed as he pushed himself away from you “Did you see a man wearing a suit with sunglasses?”
You couldn’t help but to chuckle “No. Who would wear that to one of your concerts? When was the last time you had some good sleep?”
“You’re right.” He said holding his head. He sat down in the chair in front of the mirror. He covered his mouth with his balled up hands “I’m just seeing things.” He sat there for a moment, not saying anything. Finally his smile returned, this time reaching his eyes. “What do you think about taking a vacation?” He said turning around to face you “It’s pretty clear I need one.”
You gave him a big smile as you went in for a hug “That sounds great! But to where?”
“Anywhere you want.” He smiled, melting away your previous worries about him
“I don’t know. I’m going to have to think about it. And we would have to next week since that’s when my vacation is.”
His smile faltered as he pulled you on his lap “Okay baby. Just be careful when you leave the house.”
The sun crept through the blinds, making it’s way on Jungkooks face. Jungkooks eyes fluttered opened and his nose filled with the mix scent of your body wash and his cologne. His bare chest was up against your back and his arms wrapped around you. He slid one of his hands under his white shirt that you were using as a nightshirt and up your thigh.
“Wake up~” he coed while nibbling on your ear.
“Fuck off.” You mumbled with sleep in your voice as you turned over
“But it’s breakfast time.” He got out of bed and opened the curtains “I’ll cook this time!” He said tugging on your arm
You lifted your head up “Pancakes?”
“That’s the only thing I know how to make anyway.”
You sighed as sat up in bed and threw your legs over the side. You reached your arms out “Carry me.”. He sighed a shook his head, trying to keep down his smile. He picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the bedroom. He rested your head against his chest, feeling safe in his arms. He stopped in the middle of the hallway.
“Kookie? What’s wrong?” You asked noticing how white his face went.
“Shhhh.” You heard footsteps on the lower floor. Jungkook felt his heart sink as he heard the sound a second time, confirming his fears. He carefully put you down against the wall. He squatted down to your eye level. “Be quiet. I’ll be right back.” He whispered. He kissed you on you your forehead before he made his way slowly down the stairs.
Jungkook held his breath as he reached the bottom step. He heard the sound of water running in the kitchen. He swallowed the lump in throat before he made his way to his bookshelf. He quickly pressed down on the side on it, revealing a secret compartment of guns and ammo. He took the small hand gun before closing it back up again.
He went to the kitchen to see his old friend Jin eating his oranges. He held his gun up, trying to steady his shaking hand. “What do you want with me? The boss promised to let me go.”
“I can’t stop by to say hi to an old friend?” Jin said mouth full of orange
Jungkook ignored the snarky tone in his hyungs voice “Whatever it is, leave Y/N out of this. You will have full cooperation if you promise her safety.”
“But she’s what were her for.” Jin said not taking his eyes off the orange he was peeling
A female scream came from upstairs. Jungkook turned to run to you when Hoseok was suddenly behind him a knocked him out with the butt of his gun.
Jungkook started to open his eyes. His vision was blurry. His agonizing headache pounded against the back of his head. His hands and feet were tied together with rope. He looked around the dirty warehouse. You were next to him, still unconscious, your head droop down and your hair covered your eyes, Tape covered your mouth. He held back tears as he started calling out for his old gang members. “Taehyung! Jin! Yoongi! Jimin!”
“I heard my name!” Said a sweet sounding voice
Jimin entangled his fingers in Jungkooks raven black hair. He yanked Jungkook head back, froceing him to look up at him. “How’s the music?”
“Why am I here? You told me I was released!”
“I’m a pathological liar.” Jimin smirked
“What do you want with Y/N?”
“Just to make sure we have you in the palm of our hands.”
“Why do you need me?”
“You’ve off the drug for at least a year. How did you get off? It’s my most addicting drug. You didn’t even catch the side effects of it. I need you for testing.”
“No? Okay since I can’t make you do anything” Jimin let Jungkooks head drop down. He started walking away when he turn back around, punching Jungkook in the stomach making him throw up all over himself. A strand of spit hanged from Jungkooks bottom lips as he struggled to look up.
“Put him out again.”
Jungkook felt another blow in the back of his head.
Prompt : You and Crowley have a good old fashioned stake-out to find one of his run-away hellhounds. The only problem is that Crowley is literally the worst. And kinda freaking adorable at the same time… XD
“Whose idea w-w-was this again?” You bit out as your teeth
chattered noisily in your skull. You rubbed your arms stiffly before you let
out a puff of frustration. You had been sitting here for about an hour now,
and, honestly, it was sheer torment.
“Look, darling.” You cast a look to the man sitting next to
you in the jeep. His arms were folded on his chest and he was buried under a
blanket that you had brought. You narrowed your eyes as he shrugged innocently.
“If you don’t want to catch my missing puppy, that’s fine with me.”
“S-s-shut up, Crowley.”
“What?” The demon glared at you and you rolled your eyes
“Look, I d-don’t care if I have to do this stake out with
you, but at least pretend like you care that the biggest, meanest hellhound in
existence is out of its cage.”
Crowley rumbled in a sign-song whine as he sat up straighter in the passenger
seat. “I just don’t like freezing to death.”
“Makes sense when you are accustomed to hellfire…” You
sighed, looking out the window.
Crowley let out a sound like a grumble. “And here I was
thinking you were the least racist out of the boy band you made for
You let out a scoff, shivering. “Boy band?”
“I’m not here to spare your fragile ego, Y/N.”
“Can’t say I anticipated you to be a bucket of sunshine
tonight anyway.” You said, cursing the smile that pulled at your lips. You
looked out the windshield, looking through the binoculars in your mitted hands.
“And my mom always told me, ‘if a stranger asks you to get into their car to
help them look for a lost puppy, you say no and run.’” You let out a laugh.
“Just look at me now. Hunting a demon find his run-away murder machine.”
“He has a name you know.” Crowley snapped, but you could
hear the smirk on his voice.
“Oh really?” You put the binoculars back down, blowing on
your hands to keep them warm. “What is it?”
Crowley shrugged coyly. “You’ll never guess it.”
You looked at him. Crowley folded his hands behind his head
and leaned back in the chair, his nose glowing red with the cold. He cocked an
eyebrow at you. You thought for a moment and then you smiled. “Screwtape.”
Crowley’s smile vanished as he shot you a look of disbelief.
You let out a laugh. “Wait. Is it?”
Crowley blinked slowly. “No…”
You laughed again, leaning your head against the steering
wheel despite the cold leather. “Seriously? Are you a fan of C.S. Lewis?”
“I am not!”
“Really? Well Dean said that he locked you in the library
once and you read through the Narnia series in one night.” You leaned toward
Crowley with a smirk. “Where would Dean come up with an idea like that?”
Crowley swallowed. Finally he looked away, his eyes hooded
as he pouted like a child. “They were well written pieces of entertainment, and
Dean didn’t exactly leave the tv on for me so what was I supposed to do?”
“I just didn’t know you could actually read.” You said with
Crowley rolled his eyes and turned away from you pointedly.
You covered your mouth with your hand, laughing harder.
“What? Oh come on, Crowley. This is valuable information. Do you think if we
called him by his name he’d come running?” You laughed as Crowley’s ears turned
red as he glared away from you, scowling.
“Here, Screwtape! Come ‘ere boy!” You mocked quietly,
smiling brightly as Crowley shrugged you off.
“Maybe I should have stuck with the first name I had for
him.” He turned over and glared into your eyes with his piercing brown ones.
You let out a light laugh and Crowley quirked an eyebrow at
you, his lips pulled into a smirk. You rolled your eyes trying to cast him a
sarcastic glance. “Oh ,yes, please. Anything to keep us warm.”
You saw Crowley blinked in surprise at your reply but then
he moved toward you, extending an arm to wrap around your shoulder as he pulled
himself onto your lap. “Only because you asked nicely, sweetheart.”
You cocked an eyebrow in amusement as Crowley leaned down,
aiming for your lips. You scoffed in disbelief and stopped his advance with
your fingers to his lips. Crowley blinked down in confusion as you pushed him
back lightly with a grin on your face. “For someone who speaks fluent Sarcasm,
got to say, you should have read that better.”
“Yes, well.” Crowley leaned back with a tense grin. “I like
to keep people guessing, darling.”
“Yeah, well…” You looked down as your fingers fumbled for
the binoculars. “You’ll have to work harder to distract me on a case, your
highness.” You felt a smile work onto your lips as you pulled the binoculars
back up, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach
as Crowley moved back to his seat. You were blushing, and you were sure that he
could see it.
There was a moment of silence as you looked out through the
empty junkyard where you and Crowley had parked for the stake-out. It was
nearly midnight, and there was still no sign of the freaking hellhound.
Honestly, you wondered how the heck Crowley even managed to become the King of
Hell when he couldn’t even keep track of his pets.
“Where is he? We’ve—”
You nearly bit your tongue as sudden warmth breathed against
your skin. You suddenly couldn’t breathe, because warm lips were tickling down
the side of your neck to your ear.
Today was the day Frederick was to meet with the man who had stolen his beloved colonies away from him, and he wasn’t sure he was fully prepared. He had heard stories about this Washington character… his bravery, leadership skills, finesse in the art of war. No matter. The king was convinced this trade conference was going to turn out in his favor. Or at least hoped it would… Frederick’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the throne room’s heavy wooden doors being pushed open, and a tall uniformed man entered, his arms folded tightly behind his back. The monarch narrowed his eyes and scowled, watching him carefully. The several guards posted throughout visibly stiffened, ready to pounce incase something went wrong. ‘Everything is going to be fine..’ The king repeated in his head for reassurance. ‘He can’t hurt you, touch you, do anything to you. He’s completely powerless.’ One of the advisors went up to George, paper and quill in hand. “General Washington, correct?” He asked quietly, his voice shaking with what could have been fear or excitement— it was quite hard to tell.
The man sitting across the table from him, arms folded and smirking faintly, bore no resemblance to the Tasmanian devil they’d had to send thirteen agents to take down. If it weren’t for the already-forming bruise on his cheekbone, the bloody knuckles, Phil wouldn’t have been convinced they were the same person. Then again, neither of these men - the deadly fighter or the zen master sitting across the table from him now - remotely resembled Professor Stone, the mild-mannered art historian they’d brought in to look at carefully rendered copies of the hammer’s carvings.
“We will find your team,” Phil said, mildly. The barest flex of the man’s fingers gave away the hit; few would have noticed. “I’d rather we did so without violence, obviously, but violence can be arranged.”
“Always can,” ‘Stone’ said.
“I’m surprised you haven’t tried getting out of here already, frankly.”
The man’s up and down look should have felt dismissive, but it did not. Phil didn’t shift his weight, didn’t change his expression remotely, but the effort was conscious.
“Don’t fancy my chances against an armed Ranger,” he said, and Phil didn’t quite catch his jaw before it dropped a millimetre.
“It’s a very distinctive mild-mannered persona,” he said.
Phil opened his mouth to answer, leaning forward, intrigued, but he was interrupted by a hesitant knock on the door.
“Um?” It was Asiamah, clearing her throat and, as usual, managing to make even verbal fillers into a question. “We’re having some - computer issues?”
“Call Agent Olmeda, have him -”
“Um, he tried, sir? He’s crying in the break room.”
There was a soft snort from the man across the table.
“We, um, we have no record of arresting the prisoner, sir? Or, um, employing him. And there’s a lawyer, Mr Paka- Papa-”
“Papadokalis,” Stone said helpfully. Phil shot him a glance - he was clearly enjoying this.
“Right,” Asiamah said, “Pakadopalis. He’s - he’s very insistent?”
“Put Barton on the phone with him,” Phil said, waving her away. “He’s enough to put anyone -”
“Er, sir?” Asiamah wouldn’t meet his eyes, shuffling her feet nervously. Whoever had suggested her for field work was going to hear about it. “There’s one more thing?”
“You’re - the computer’s saying you’re dead.”
Phil considered that for a moment. Stone, by now, was making no attempt to hide his grin.
“How convincingly?” Phil asked.
“Director Fury’s been on the line, sir. Very convincingly.” If the look in her eyes was any indication of how well Fury had lived up to his name, the hack had been comprehensive. Impressive.
“He says we should let the, um, the son of a bitch go,”Asiamah said.
“That’s my cue,” Stone said, placing his hands flat on the table and pushing himself upright. He met Phil’s eye for a moment, dropped a quick flicker of a wink, one professional acknowledging another.
On impulse, Phil reached into his pocket.
“Take my card,” he said. “I may have a job for your hacker, some day.”
Nadine folded her arms at the man infront of her, her figure highlighted by her business attire. Her button up shirt hugged her waist, her skirt hugging her hips the same. She may have been short and young (only standing at 4'8"(5'0" even in her slick heels) and aged 22), but she had a mature figure. Her icy blue eyes narrowed, red lips pursed. "I refuse to indulge you any further [House of Cards US Season 4]".
Michael eyed her figure up and down. He’d spaced out as some point while sitting outside of this relatively small cafe waiting for his lunch and hadn’t noticed that the wandering of his mind had caused him to stare at the rather beautiful woman in front of him from afar. He raised a brow, still not completely with her. “Huh?…. Oh sorry, dove. Didn’t mean to stare, I just spaced out for a while.”
"... And that's what I need from you," the masked man concluded, sitting in front of the mafia boss with folded arms. He had been rather brave coming here, especially since she could have his identity revealed at the flick of a wrist. He just hoped he had been sufficient in outlining his plan - they would work together to uncover a great mystery that had recently been found, and she could use it how she willed. Of course, he didn't intend on fulfilling that end. - Descole (Of-crimes-and-puzzles)
Pepper listened to man curiously, his boldness having captivated her attention. It wasn’t every day someone strode into her office, a cape flapping behind them, demanding assistance in uncovering some historical archeological find. The mobster didn’t usually deal with such things, nor did she often entertain the schemes of strangers, but she listened to his proposal all the same.
By the end of his speech, she was casually sipping tea at her desk, still mulling his proposition over.
“I see… And why, might I ask, did you seek out my help specifically, Mr… Descole, was it? Surely there are many other parties who would be interested in your proposition, archeological societies or private collectors, surely?”
This didn’t quite seem to be her field, and because of that, she didn’t trust the man in front of her in the slightest.
“A rich man had a garden and two gardeners. One of these gardeners was very lazy and did not work; but when the owner came to the garden, the lazy man would get up and fold his arms and say, “How beautiful is the face of my master”, and dance before him. The other gardener would not talk much, but would work hard, and produce all sorts of fruits and vegetables which he would carry on his head to his master who lived a long way off. Of these two gardeners, which would be the more beloved of his master? Shiva is that master, and this world is His garden, and there are two sorts of gardeners here; the one who is lazy, hypocritical, and does nothing, only talking about Shiva’s beautiful eyes and nose and other features; and the other, who is taking care of Shiva’s children, all those that are poor and weak, all animals, and all His creation. Which of these would be the more beloved of Shiva? Certainly he that serves His children. He who wants to serve the father must serve the children first. He who wants to serve Shiva must serve His children — must serve all creatures in this world first. It is said in the Shastra that those who serve the servants of God are His greatest servants. So you will bear this in mind.”
“Cas,” you say with a gentle smile, pulling him by the hand to the sofa and urging him to sit. “This is my niece, Cara. Cara, this is my good friend Cas.”
Cas sits down gingerly, looking at your niece with fear in his eyes. Hesitantly, he lifts one hand and curls his fingers in some semblance of a wave. “Hello,” he says shyly.
Cara smiles. “Hi. Are you Y/n’s boyfriend?”
“I-” Cas blinks. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
“I have a boyfriend too,” Cara says seriously. “He goes to my school and sometimes we hold hands on the playground.”
Cas nods. “He sounds like a very nice young man.”
You fold your arms over your chest, leaning against the door frame and watching them fondly. “Okay, you two, I’m going to go run some errands. I’ll be right back. Stay out of trouble, okay?”
And when you return a few hours later, you find Cara sound asleep in Cas’s lap, a Disney movie playing on the television.
Cas looks up at you, the crown in his hair and clip on earrings in stark contrast with his serious expression. “Y/n,” he murmurs. “Thank goodness you’ve returned.”
You hold up a finger to your lips, smiling as you sit down on the couch next to him. Cas slips an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. “How did it go?” you whisper, smoothing a hand over Cara’s hair.
“We played Princess Dress Up,” Cas whispers back. “It was torture.”
Grinning, you lean up and kiss his cheek, making him blush. “Thanks for helping me take care of her today.”
Cas looks down at your niece with a soft smile. “Children are beautiful, Y/n.”
“Yeah,” you agree, snuggling a little closer and closing your eyes. “They are.”
Rhys gazed nonplussed at the alpha despite the firm arms boxing him in and the close, suffocating proximity of the other man to his body. His arms were folded, elbows jutting into the alpha’s chest, knees crossed and hips pressed as far back into the wall as he could possibly get them. Clearly in a pose that screamed not fuckin’ interested to anyone that wasn’t a dumb hormonal beast. Though he was taken aback by how the alpha could sneak up on him in such a secluded hallway, he was more surprised at the fact that there were still alphas who thought he was a defenseless toy, still alphas who thought that Jack wouldn’t tear them to shreds if they so much as disturbed a button on Rhys’ coat.
How many dead, stupid alphas did it take to learn the same lesson?
A bit more of the fancy omega AU, kind of delving into more of the bullshit Rhys has to deal with (and boy does he deal with it).
Some warnings for this one–attempted/thwarted sexual assault, violence, some slurs (just “bitch” i believe), semi-graphic murder of a background character, and I think that’s it? Everything ends up being OK but I wanted to make sure people are properly warned as well?
Kafei’s father has hung up a cult symbol in his office.
It’s not displayed prominently. Someone who wasn’t familiar with the office wouldn’t necessarily have noticed it. But there it is, the same symbol and color scheme from the disturbing poster someone hung up on one of the arcade houses. And there’s the Curiosity Shop man standing next to it, arms folded, looking at Kafei with a bemused grin like here I am, what are you going to do about it punk. Kafei has known for a long time that the storeowner and his father have their private dealings, have their knives to each others’ throats. But the weasel isn’t usually bold enough to show his face here.
Ever since the Great Fairy left, things have been. Different. Getting worse. It didn’t happen all at once. The budding cult from outside of Clock Town’s walls was easily dismissed as a laughable fad, something that would die out soon enough, and good riddance. But judging by what Kafei’s seeing here today, on what was supposed to be a casual visit to his parents’ house…
Things aren’t getting better.
“What’s that,” he says, pointing to the cult symbol, to which his father automatically replies with “Don’t tell your mother.” The Curiosity Shop man chuckles.
“What’s he doing here,” Kafei asks, turning to the Curiosity Shop man, challenge glittering in his eyes.
“Don’t tell your –”
“I never threatened to, I said what’s he doing here,” Kafei says stubbornly, turning back to his father.
The mayor looks from Kafei to the Curiosity Shop man. “I think we’d better talk in private,” he says, starting to get out of his chair.
“N-no, this is your office, we can talk privately here, he has to leave,” Kafei says, walking over to the crook and reaching out to move him, walk him out the door. The man laughs, but he really does leave, almost cringing, avoiding Kafei’s touch like he doesn’t want to get burned. Kafei hasn’t made use of the backroom for almost a year now. That puts him at free of the guy’s hold and knowing what it was like to be under it. It’s all fun and games to act cheeky, but if Kafei’s got resentment built up, he could be dangerous.
Kafei closes the door and stalks back to his father’s desk. All he wanted to do was socialize with his parents and borrow a book. “What’s going on.”
Kafei’s father isn’t much help. He relates that the cult symbol is only there to casually let people know that the town isn’t going to ban it and supports all religions (liar). That the Curiosity Shop man was only there to discuss expanding his shop (doubtful). The only real piece of news (which isn’t even news) is his father’s warning to be careful (odd, considering how harmless everything apparently is). Kafei leaves with his book, troubled.
His parents made his life a living hell until pretty much the day he left to live with Anju, but he still loves them, dammit. He wouldn’t trust them to have his back for shit, but he doesn’t want them mixed up in bad company over their heads. And the town. The town has been getting by fairly well despite its leader’s weak will, but how much would that change if the rabble ever got bolder? Kafei loves his town. It’s where he grew up, it’s the only place he’s ever lived and the only place he ever expects to. The thought of it falling to pieces is… is unthinkable. This is Clock Town. The proud, free city housing the only location to call the Four Giants from their slumber, the center of commerce, the location of the Carnival of Time, the most important location in all of Termina… to see the likes of the Curiosity Shop man start to wrap tentative fingers around its leader’s neck is alarming, to say the least.
Kafei wouldn’t necessarily risk his life to save his parents. He prioritized them out of fear for most of his life and only just found some small measure of happiness; he wouldn’t be able to justify it to himself, setting that down, giving it all away, and going back to prioritizing them.
And he wouldn’t necessarily risk his life to save his town. That’s a huge responsibility that couldn’t possibly belong to one person, couldn’t possibly belong to him; surely someone else is far better qualified.
But with family and town at risk from the same threat, that feels a little bit like his world starting to unravel.
And he will fight like a wild animal, for himself and his world. It’s not just his now. And, also thanks to Anju, he has a place in it.
So he seeks out the Curiosity Shop man later and asks if he can come to one of these cult meetings. Plays docile, impressionable, subservient, weak; slips falsely into his old role. Hands the man a deceptive set of insubstantial puppet strings with doe eyes and a creased brow. The man is clever, but has his weak spots. He agrees.
Kafei has come a long way in two years. He tells Anju what he’s up to and tells her not to come with; explains his reasoning, the role he’ll be playing, why it would be very difficult and very dangerous for Anju to accompany him. They agree on what time she should send city guards out looking for him if he’s not back. She tells him he’s brave. It surprises him.
He doesn’t feel brave when he and the Curiosity Shop man leave the safety, the relative safety, of the town walls and head for Great Bay.