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1 .


AN: Hey anon 5! I have the first part of your request right here. Not a lot of smut, more like setting the scene and make outs, but I didn't want to leave you hanging so here's some of it. If there's any improvements you can think to make, please let me know. I hope I'm doing Heavy some justice so far!

Heavy x Reader [Poker Night] PART 1

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His brow furrowed and his eyes concentrated intensely on the cards he held in front of him. It was almost comical how his eyes flitted back and forth between his hand and where you sat, his thickly accented voice grumbling in Russian. He gulps as he looks at the shining gun perched on the center of the table, an expression of regret flashing over his face briefly before his cards occupy his attention once again. Damn, he shouldn't have bet the gun, of all things...

"Heavy, we aren't getting any younger." You jived, suppressing a smirk as you pressured him to make his move. He presses his lips together, looking desperate as you nonchalantly leaned back in your chair. Uncertain, he places down a few cards, eyes trained on you for your reaction. Grinning triumphantly, you slammed down your cards in response, promptly scooping in all the chips (and Heavy's gun) towards you. You relished the spoils of your victory while a crestfallen Heavy groaned, covering his face with his palm and sinking into his chair after his third defeat in a row.

It was the dead of night, one of those nights were restlessness and insomnia kicked in and rendered you both unable to sleep-- leaving you two to pass the night away with poker, anecdotes, and alcohol. Save for the lone ceiling lamp that casted a limp pool of yellow light on the table, the rest of the break room was dark, the only other source of light being the bluish glow of the desert moon in the open window.

A soft cool breeze rustled the curtains of said window, carrying with it the distant euphony of cricket chirping. It was soothing, even more so with your (slightly sulking) company. You and Heavy had worked closely with each other for quite some time now, the both of you working in weaponry-specialized classes. The collaboration between the two of you on and off the battlefield over the course of nearly a year made for a strong companionship, one that you'd hate to jeopardize or taint with the complex ideals of romance.

Yet you couldn't deny the palpable tension that was there. And it seemed to surface with increasing frequency as of late, much to you and Heavy's mutual frustration. Eyes that connected more often than necessary, touches that lingered longer than appropriate-- the signs of a growing something were becoming quite obvious and blatant. You thought that if you ignored it, it would disappear and dissolve like a vapid dream in the back of your mind.

Nonetheless, when you were alone with Heavy, you tried to simply enjoy his company and forget everything else. Which worked quite nicely, for the moment.

You return to the present and begin to take note of Heavy's legitimate disappointment-- inwardly, you sigh. It's just a silly game, perhaps you ought to give his gun back. Besides, you really had no use for the gun anyway--you and Heavy were both weapons specialists. Guns were not hard to come by.

You set the weapon-- the "Iron Curtain", he called it-- down upon the wooden table. He looks up at you in surprise, his mouth open to say something, but you wave him off.

"I don't need it. It's no big deal-- you can keep it." You turned on your heel, stretching your arms one by one across your chest as you made to walk out of the break room. The hours of cards and beer had begun to take its toll on you, and finally, you felt like a decent rest was in order.

"Wait," Heavy's voice had you stopping in mid-stride and throwing a questioning glance over your shoulder. "I want to play one more round."

"One more? Heavy, it's four in the morning. Any more rounds of poker and we'll be playing until sunrise." You said, raising an eyebrow.

"Quick round. I'll make it quick, promise." After contemplating for a moment, you sat down with Heavy again, despite your better non-sleep impaired judgement saying otherwise. Expertly, you dealt out the cards, glancing up every so often at Heavy to try and decipher what he was thinking. The two of you usually called it quits by now, and tried to squeeze in some form of sleep before breakfast. Not to mention you said he could keep the gun-- why would he want to play again?

Sitting back, you looked at him expectantly, clearing your throat.

"What do you want to bet?" You asked. However, you were slightly taken aback by how he suppressed a knowing smirk to himself, shifting in anticipation in his seat. "Heavy, what do you want to bet?" You asked again, clicking your tongue in impatience.

"I want to bet secret." He replied. You double take, eyes narrowing in confusion.


"I want to bet secret thing." He clarified best he could with his mostly-fluent English. Your perplexed gaze grew even more at a loss, as you tried to figure him out.

"You... want to bet a mystery prize...?" You asked reluctantly, trying to put his proposal into your own words.

"'Da'," He affirmed, nodding enthusiastically. A challenging smile pulled at your lips, and you replied--

"Okay, I like it. You're on!"

Imagine your shock as Heavy began to completely and utterly lose the game. The round must have lasted under ten minutes as he played bad hand after bad hand, seemingly receiving all the worst possible combinations of cards. He seemed almost glad to lose, happily playing a failure set of cards and watching contently as you took all the chips. Your suspicion grew, watching incredulously as he played another bad set. This was certainly the worst Heavy had ever played, but he was right-- it was a fast round, to say the least.

"Heavy, what the hell was that?!" You said, dumbfounded. He sat content, gathering the cards into one pile as he prepared to put them away. "Heavy!"

"Hm?" He hummed absently as he gathered the all the chips from your side of the table. "What? You win." He stated, again smiling to himself with barely contained excitement. Your eyes widen as nervousness roots itself firmly in the pit of your stomach.

"Oh god, what did you bet?" A chill shot down your spine as the Russian chuckled.

"Me." He said quietly. Your stunned silence spoke volumes for your confusion, trying to grope for a meaning to Heavy's words. "You won me." He repeated.

Your mind ran through dozens of thoughts at once as your mouth hung slightly agape, attempting to find something, anything to say.

"I... what do you mean? Like, I won you over...?" You managed to say, still hopelessly befuddled.

"I mean you won me." He said again, slightly impatient as if what he meant was obvious. "You do what you want now." There was a duality in his words, another meaning that you were finally beginning to pick up on through Heavy's (purposely?) limited English.

"... With you?" You dared to ask, completely making sure that you and Heavy were on the same page. He gave the slightest imperceptible nod, his eyes watching your reaction intensely to see what you would do next. You walked over to his chair, standing in front of him. "...Anything?" You murmured, voice dropping to a softer tone. He barely inclined his head when he nodded, affirming what you had originally dared not to hope for.

A smile tugged at your lips for a moment as you placed your hands on the armrests on either side of Heavy's chair. You leaned towards him, asking one more thing:

"Are you sure?"

"You ask too much questions." He replied.

That reply alone was enough for you to lean in and kiss him, hesitantly. You gauged his reaction carefully, only kissing him for a few moments before drawing back. He made a noise of disappointment when you pulled away, craning his chin forward to make your lips meet again. The second time was hungrier, more uninhibited as you straddled him in his chair, testing his boundaries so see how far he was willing to go. So far, you had met no resistance, which was very encouraging.

You guided his hands to your hips, and almost subconsciously he pulled you closer. Your arms draped themselves around his broad neck as you leaned against him, your bodies nearly flush against each other. Hands started roaming; it was almost as if you had broken a dam, the same dam that the two of you had desperately hid behind for the past few months in a vain attempt to remain normal and friendly with each other.

Speaking of dams, so much for maintaining them. So much for trying to uphold that distance, and so much for trying to remain impartial towards one of your closest comrades. Your mind was clouded in a haze of lust, but you still had enough clarity to hope that what you initiated just now would not have any severe consequences on you, Heavy, or your friendship with him. Still, you justified to yourself, everyone has needs. It's no crime to be attracted to someone or to indulge that attraction, right? Besides, you had doubts that Heavy was the romantic sort. You chuckled softly, despite yourself. No, there wouldn't be any problems.

Heavy noticed you chuckle, the two of you parted briefly enough for him to make a sound of confusion. You smirked, getting up from the chair and pulling him up by the hand.

"Hurry, let's head to my room." You said.


Okay, so that's it for part 1! Part 2 will be coming shortly. In the meantime, anyone else is free to make another request.