#It... it gets ropey in places but it's got a strong beginning and strong points SO...

[smolbeandrabbles]

Loser Like Me - Intern!Nolan Sorrento x Reader (Ready Player One)

GIF Credit: X @crawlingmist @mandy23b  @wltz-bby @happyskywhale​ #MendoTagSquad

Babe you’re platinum all the way

Author’s Note: Before we even begin - Mini Series for sure!  Also I’ve never seen anyone do this before me, so here we are!

I know by now if you’ve been following this blog for any length of time you know how much I love this man. With my heart and soul. However - there’s a particular scene in the movie I just... really don’t like. It’s the Intern scene. I won’t go into a whole lot of detail, but it hits me deep on a personal level, and I hate that it’s played for laughs. I thought it needed some ‘rectifying’! And came up with this little series. 😊 I really hope you enjoy taking this journey with Nolan, as much as you have my others!

Disclaimer: RPO characters/storyline not mine / whilst following what they did with him in the movie, some of this will be influenced by Lacero (because of course it will!)

I wanted to write a quick note about his age! I headcanon every Mendo that does not have a canon age as the same age Ben was when the movie was shot. So... For RPO that’s about 46/47. Making Nolan 47 in 2045. The intern scene takes place in 2025. Making Nolan, as stated in the fic, 27.

Premise: Nolan Sorrento has a head full of dreams that he’s sure will be actioned by the OASIS creators any day now. But fetching coffee is all anyone at Gregarious Games thinks Nolan is good at. Lucky for him, you see things a little differently...

Words: 6397

Warnings: In general - people being douches to Interns. / swearing

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Yeah, you may think that I'm a zero But hey, everyone you wanna be Probably started off like me You may say that I'm a freak show But hey, give it just a little time I bet you're gonna change your mind

All of the dirt you've been throwin' my way It ain't so hard to take, that's right 'Cause I know one day you'll be screaming my name And I'll just look away, that's right

Push me up against the locker And hey, all I do is shake it off I'll get you back when I'm your boss I'm not thinkin' 'bout you haters 'Cause, hey, I could be a superstar I'll see you when you wash my car

Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth So everyone can hear Hit me with the worst you've got and knock me down Baby, I don't care Keep it up and soon enough you'll figure out You wanna be, You wanna be A loser like me

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The alarm went off at 6:40am. As it did every day – but Nolan Sorrento was already half way ready, and had to skid out of the bathroom to snap it off, before any of his neighbours complained again. Sometimes he just couldn’t sleep – and he felt it probably wiser to just get up and get on. Sorrento’s head was full of ideas, ideas that he knew would help him make it big someday. Hopefully right here where he worked, at Gregarious Games… once he got a job that wasn’t an internship, that was. And - when he wasn’t fetching coffee, or running papers, or trying to book meeting rooms and call other people that worked around the company as requested by those higher up - Nolan would sit with his notebook and plot out what his future would look like, and the tech he would use to get there, whether it be available right now, just within reach, or something that one day he’d be at the forefront of making. He dreamed, because right now that was all he could do. Nolan had a job and that was enough to be thankful for, he had his life… which was more than could be said for some people. Sweeping back into the bathroom he studied himself in the mirror for a moment with a small sigh. He liked to give himself a daily pep-talk, because there wasn’t anyone else that was going to do that for him either. ‘Okay, Nolan, you got this. For real this time – they’ll ask you to fetch coffee and then you can walk in and be like… Guys! Your OASIS project – what about if you did this-!? How can they not love it? Maybe they’ll bump you to tech? Maybe they’ll make you a partner!’ It hadn’t worked out for him so far, but he could dream – maybe today was the day! He gave himself a firm nod, running his hand through his thick dark blonde hair to neaten it (at least the highlights were going to look good once he got into proper lighting!) and then dashed from the bathroom again; throwing a suit jacket on – that didn’t match his outfit but was good enough – he looped his pass around his neck, grabbed his keys and his satchel before heading out of the door. No time for breakfast, he’d think about that later! First things first; getting into the office. It was still nerve wreaking for him to walk up to that office with coffee; it used to give him shakes just thinking about maybe getting the coffee order wrong, but now he knew he had that down. Nolan knew that Gregarious Games was on the verge of something not just great, but phenomenal. People all around the company treated it’s two founders like Gods, and Nolan knew exactly why – he was doing the same. They were creating the seemingly impossible; giving people an escape from the hell that everyone was living. The longer he was here, the more Nolan gained confidence – Morrow at least knew his name now, and he was also privy to the fact that not everyone got to interact with these two as much as he did. It came to the point where he actually liked being asked to fetch coffee for them, because he’d get to try out a new idea. “-What about this-?” “Maybe later, Nolan, thanks for the coffee…” “But I really think the OASIS could just use-” “Thanks, Nolan. Really, but it’s a busy time.” “Well maybe-” “Nolan…” Then he had to walk from the room with a deep breath and try not to get so disheartened. No matter, there would always be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that… on into infinity. But Sorrento smiled gently, one day he’d come up with something that would be so mind-blowing they would have to listen to him! And he was getting close, he was sure of it. With that thought, he jogged back down the stairs, confidence sky high. “Oh-! Nolan-!” He turned to the voice calling him, “Yes?” “Could you come help me with something… I’m not exactly sure what I’ve done wrong on this presentation… I just can’t fix it…” “Sure-!” “OH. And, whilst you’re at it, would you mind picking up my printing? Thanks, Nolan!” He blinked several times watching them walk away passed the printer, and then sighed again – well, he still had a ways to go yet…

Nolan was aware that there were people in this company who didn’t like him, that thought he was strange. The pop culture he consumed was obscure at best, or... not obscure enough at worst. Nolan liked the modern stuff, the early millennium. The remnants of Y2K... where everyone lost their heads thinking computers and clocks would all stop working. Apparently, that wasn’t highly valued, and everyone thought that the 80s was where it was at. Nolan wasn’t sure of that himself, and thought maybe most of them were just posturing because that was the era that Halliday and Morrow were obsessed with. It made sense; they’d grown up in that time. Nolan was just far more nostalgic for things he’d grown up with - than a time he didn’t even really know.

Other people he figured didn’t like him for other reasons, but he’d never quite got the opportunity to find out what those were. Only that it felt a lot like being shoved up against a high school locker again. And he was 27. There were a couple in particular that liked to get physical; only this time they decided to do it when he was carrying two full cups of coffee. “Whoops-” “Shit! Sorry-!” As if he sounded anywhere near it. “It’s okay though right, that’s your job, you can just make more.” If he wasn’t already on a time limit, “And clear that up whilst you’re at it.” “What do you get a full employee badge for making coffee anyway?” “Oh no-! You read that wrong mate, it’s just an intern one.” “Ah-! Not permanent then? Coffee can’t be that good-!” “Less permanent now-!!!” Nolan bit his lips together, because he knew what would happen if he retaliated, these two were full time employees that (probably) had way more important jobs than he did. He knew which one of them was more likely to be walked out of the door after a confrontation, and he needed this.

“Do you two assholes want to leave him the fuck alone-!?” They all turned, to an impatient looking woman standing with her arms crossed. And this would be a moment that, although he didn’t know it yet, would go down in history in Nolan Sorrento’s life. For this was the moment he met you. You could not have been glaring at them both harder - and felt that for the man stuck in the middle, it was pretty fortunate that you walked by. “Y-Y/N-!” “Don’t give me that, why don’t you go bother someone else-!?” “But he-!” “Is trying to get coffee from point A to point B, I didn’t realise Gregarious games hired children these days that would be such a hindrance. Why don’t you get back to your desks and do your jobs-!?” They didn’t dare argue with you – skulking off, although muttering profusely. And Nolan was nearly speechless, but also realised there was coffee all over the floor: “Ah-! Ahhh-! Shoot-!” “No, no, no...!!” You moved towards him, hands gently pushing him back to standing; “I got this, you go make them again...!” “No, no, I can’t leave you to-” “Nolan, it’s okay... I got this...”  He stopped suddenly; now he would know if he’d seen you before. He would. Nolan was good with things like that. He opened his mouth, but you ushered him back towards the kitchen; “I’ll help in a moment, just let me do this!”

Sorrento didn’t know what else to do but wait for you in the kitchen, by now he probably could have gone outside and got a coffee order, but in you walked, throwing away whatever you’d used to tidy up the spillage. “Good thing I like the smell of coffee...” You wiped your hands and turned to him, with a gentle smile; “Sorry about those guys. They’re self-entitled assholes who shouldn’t have the jobs that they do. Alas, I am not a hiring manager... are you alright?” “Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” You nodded, “I can see that.” “F-forgive me, Y/N...” that is what they’d called you, “but...” “Oh; I’ve heard all about you - Nolan Sorrento. And your ideas!” He looked away for a moment, aware that he was blushing, “But also that you make one hell of a cup of coffee...” that just made him blush harder. “You also do a little bit of work in my department, so I’ve seen you around. I could use a mind like yours, y’know? Maybe I’ll have to get you in for experience...” You nodded to the half-made coffee; “I’ll help, if you teach me how the boys upstairs like it.” “Oh... y-yeah sure...” Nolan moved aside as you crossed the kitchen, “What’s your department?” “Technology. So, they do all the ideas and spec and testing, and my team codes it. We also run all diagnostics on errors, though the less we see of those the better!” “Your team-!?” “I like manage like 2 people, it’s nothing.” But Nolan was staring at you like all his wildest dreams had come true. “...Wow. That’s... that’s incredible-!” “If I could get the right people in my team, it’d be more so...” You eyed him curiously, “And somehow you’re only an intern?” “I’ll take what I can get.” You giggled “Until one of the big plans comes off?” “Yeah I guess...” That faint shade of pink was back “I admire that.” “What?” “The confidence to tell Halliday and Morrow your thoughts. The imagination it takes to have ideas like that. It’s cutting edge stuff, Nolan. I couldn’t do that - I am more... the girl who executes the idea. And turns your dream into a virtual reality... but I don’t have such a knack for original content.” You gave him another sweet smile that had him turning quickly back to the coffee; “Now why don’t you teach me how to do this - and I’ll explain why it’s a little late.” “Y-yeah... lets... do that!” ***

Overall Nolan was pretty harmless, he kept himself to himself and did every task that was asked of him. You made a point of finding him to say hello, and chat to him for a few minutes every time you passed his desk. And you noticed that when you approached him he always looked quiet and subdued, but by the time you moved on he was joyful and animated and it always hurt you to have to move on. Still the smile on his face didn’t fade after that. He was full of endless enthusiasm, and more importantly than that – something you felt Gregarious aught to be paying attention to – he was hungry, if work didn’t come to him he’d seek it out, Nolan certainly wasn’t afraid of doing that. Every so often he’d be walking by with someone and you’d catch a snippet of another great idea that filled his head – but more often than not was met with “That’s great, Nolan, but…” You were amazed to see this didn’t deter him; sure he’d look disappointed, but he didn’t give up. Sorrento’s attitude and personality intrigued you, and one afternoon when he was leaving for another coffee run, you made a point of walking with him. That soon became habit, as did joining him for lunch. It didn’t win you a lot of friends, and more often than not you’d be asked ‘What the hell are you thinking!?’ ‘Yeah, Y/N! You actually have talent!’ ‘Nolan Sorrento is never gonna amount to anything. He’s pushing 30 and all he does is make coffee.’ You didn’t understand why, or how, anyone in this office could pick on him. And why everyone just let them get away with it. Your defence of him was ruthless. “He’s a fucking INTERN, not a coffee boy – oh my god! It’s about time someone actually taught him something about the business. Nolan’s got a head full of ideas and if no one else is gonna utilize him, I fucking will – because it only takes one job ad or someone to recognise what he has and he’ll be off to IOI!” “They can have him.” “You know what, screw all of you! When Nolan’s running this place and you’re all begging for jobs, I hope to God he remembers what you did to him.”

Nolan was wasted here. But you didn’t want him to be wasted here; he was at times a little too unconventional for your game makers, given his little corner of pop culture (not that he’d opened up to you a lot about that, but occasionally you got a glimpse of it by what he referenced and laughed at), or a little too ‘business’ for your co-founders - monetization was practically a curse word… Yet Nolan had a mix of talent that barely anyone else in this company did, and no one was giving him a chance to use it. Worse still to you – an Intern, who should be learning everything the business has to offer and be given every opportunity to get stuck into it, was doing not a lot more than fetching and filing paperwork. And sure, you were younger than him, but you wanted to take this into your own hands.

“Hey!” A smile was already present on his face before he looked up; “Hey!” “You busy today?” You folded your arms on top of his desk divider; Nolan looked a little shifty; suspicious of you for a minute. “I mean, I got plenty to be getting on with…” You gave a disappointed sigh; “Aw, see I really needed your help with something.” “…Really!?” He wasn’t about to hide that shock – Nolan hadn’t done anything directly tech related for your department before, and that was your exact remit. “Yeah, but if you-” “No, no!” He stood, “I’d love to help, that’s what I’m here for, right?” You couldn’t help yourself, and giggled, “Did you just become un-busy?” “…Yeah. Yes, I think so.” Nolan placed his hands in his pockets with a grin, and waited for you to tell him what to do; “Awesome, let me show you around tech central!” You beckoned him to walk with you, “And for the record, no, I was pretty sure intern meant you were also here to learn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t teach you something. How’s your coding?” “Not a strong suit.” “What did you study?” “Uh… Business and economics… just touching on computing as a minor… why?” You turned back to him very nearly shocked; “At College!?” “Uhm. Yes?” He’s a College grad and we have him paper pushing, my God, no one is ever hearing the end of this! But you just nodded, “What’s the dream Nolan?” He became bashful, looking away from your face for a moment, as if he didn’t dream – or as if every dream he’d been working for was suddenly stupid; “Uh. I…” “C’mon, everyone has one…” You touched his arm delicately, “Hand on heart, ten years from now, when you’re close to 40, where do you wanna be?” Sorrento looked a little affronted by your close to 40 remark but held his tongue; “Uh. I guess, I’d like to be in charge of a company like this one.” “Good man, right answer.” You swept him into another room – a neat row of 5 desks on one side, and one on the other – no barriers between you – the single desk was covered with paperwork; in the centre a flashing image, highlighting what various coding pieces were about to address in game. You indicated for him to sit at a desk in the row of five, and joined him. “And you?” “None of my dreams are really to do with work…” You shook your head, “I mean, sure I’d like a couple of promotions but I’m kinda okay where I am – as long as I still love what I’m doing. I’d just like to help people, you know? And the OASIS might help people… So,” you breathed, “I’d like to make people happy, and I don’t know how measurable that is, but I think I’d feel pretty good in ten years’ time if I managed that!” Nolan watched you for a second, and your gentle smile, and wondered if you’d even realised that for him at least you’d already completed that goal. Maybe he’d keep that back, for now – but he knew that in ten years’ time he wanted to look back on this moment with you and say “I was your first! You might not know, but it was me!” *** You set him a series of tasks and challenges and, as you did so, explained his way through them, who they were for and the effect that doing them would have on the business or the OASIS itself. Your team kept to themselves but you’d let them do that for now, the group was a little insular and he was an outsider right now, they’d warm to him; you worked with nice guys – not like the assholes who behaved like grade schoolers. Every so often, performing your own tasks, you would ping Nolan a calendar invite. “…What’s that?” He would ask you, and you would tell him “Oh! That’s a meeting with the Head of Marketing… Finance… Engineering… PR and Communications… HR…”, the list was endless – but if you had to create an intern program for him for yourself, you damn well would. You were a little more social and a little more pushy, so you knew you could get him working in all the teams and on projects that actually meant something – starting with your own, then he’d have something to show for it. All he needed was a little boost and a shot to his confidence and Nolan would be away; it was already obvious that he believed in his ideas enough – now you wanted to give him the knowledge to back it all up, and finally let him use what he already knew.

 By the end of the first day Nolan was a little worried that he hadn’t finished all the tasks you had set, and as your team packed up and left for the night, he looked nervous. “Nolan, you okay?” “…I mean I… I still have a few things to do- I-I’ll finish them, I guess I might just be a little late.” You sighed; “Nolan, you’re an intern, honey – you don’t get paid overtime, just finish them tomorrow – It’s fine.” “…T…Tomorrow.” He swivelled his chair to you but didn’t dare look hopeful, “You want me back?” “Yes, of course I want you back, I told you I need you right now! With all that’s going on so close to launch we’re getting stretched pretty thin, and what better place for you to get stuck in than the midst of all this! I mean you’re getting coffee for ‘em, might as well get your line of code in the finished product too, right?” You stood, slipping your jacket on, “That desk is empty, by the way. I don’t really like the idea of you sitting alone out there…” Blush dusted his cheeks again, “You sure they won’t mind?” You scoffed; “Nolan, by the end of the first week they won’t even notice you didn’t sit there before today! Now come on! Go home!” You were right of course, and by day three your team of two were saying good morning to him, and asking how his evening had been. It took Nolan a little while to answer, because he just wasn’t used to it. By the end of the first week it was ’We’re just heading out for coffee, would either of you like anything-!?’ which you liked, because yes, someone should be asking him which coffee he wanted instead of him fetching it. And by the end of week two you were all sitting together at lunch, and when everyone took a five-minute break, Nolan got to participate in office banter and shit talking. “Guys! May I remind you that our office doesn’t have a door-!” “Oh come on, Y/N! You out of all of us are the one most likely to go off on these idiots!” Nolan turned to you, “You do have a tendency to come back from meetings, throw your notebook down and proceed to tell us how much you hate everyone.” “OHHH!!” The other two started howling with laugher, “OH! He’s got ya, Y/N!” “First off I hate all of you! Second, I also hate that you’re all right-!” But you liked this, and you already knew it was doing wonders for him. Sure, from time to time people would swing by and ask if they could take him off you for a second, and he did still do the infamous coffee run; but you let him go at his own discretion. What you were happy to see, was that his old desk started clearing, and Nolan’s files and notes, and everything he’d had on it managed to find its way into your little side room. That’s when coffee started appearing on your desk every morning. Nolan was always in before you, and had clearly expertly memorised your coffee order. At first you thought it was a simple and sweet one off, but it kept happening. Upon telling him he really didn’t have to do it for you, Nolan would smile and say; “Oh! It’s really the least I can do. After all, look at all you’ve already done for me…” Still, you became grateful to see the cups, and as you sat contentedly with them before you started the day you always noticed him beaming out of the corner of your eye; you only liked to pretend you didn’t. About three weeks into Nolan’s stint with you, the project you had him working on was nearing completion, and your intern was fretting about if you’d have him move. “Nolan, you don’t need to panic – you can still sit with us, there’ll still be plenty for you to do here. Besides like I say, once we finish this everyone is going to want to work with you anyway – and seen as you’ve had most of the introductions, there will be things from them to work on – so you can get your holistic business overview!” He’d been through most of the meetings that you’d set up – and as you suspected, some of them weren’t even aware there was an intern to give any work to, leaving the program entirely in your hands. Your boss didn’t seem to mind too much, and it wasn’t interfering with what you were doing otherwise. Eventually you just let Nolan get on with the meetings himself, and given his background all you seemed to gain from it was positive feedback. ‘He’s great!’ ‘I know. But tell him that!’ You thought he was ready for his big break; and breaks didn’t come much bigger than this one; “Hey, Nolan, you’re on first name basis’ with Halliday and Morrow right?” He raised an eyebrow curiously, “Yeah, I guess.” “I got a feeling you know this project pretty damn well by now.” The two in the corner turned to give positive affirmation to this statement. “Uh huh?” He tipped his head, intrigued as to where this might be going – although the looks on their faces told you they already knew; “How’d you like to help me present it to them next week?” ***

If this was the chance that he had been waiting for, then it was huge. Nolan didn’t show it, not on his face, nor in his stance. He was two steps ahead of you on the presentation but he always asked if what he’d done was okay, and everything you told him to add or take out he considered very carefully. “You didn’t have to do this all yourself, you know.” “I just wanted to take pressure off the team. I dunno, if one person works on it, I guess it also looks a little more polished.” You let him have that, and what he created in the end was one of the best presentations you’d ever seen. Using space effectively, but also very minimalist. “Slides don’t matter so long as you explain them, that’s the backing. You’re the draw.” “Someone paid attention in class-!” He beamed at your recognition, “Yeah. I did.” So it was no surprise to you that he presented well. Except Nolan didn’t just present well, he presented to Halliday and Morrow like a professional – and at every moment you got, you allowed yourself to simply be in awe of him. Where was this man when everyone else was being a total jerk? The different between Nolan now commanding the room, and the soft-spoken intern who liked to float his ideas around desperately when given even the smallest margin of opportunity was staggering – they were poles apart and even his smile was confident. If this was a technique Sorrento had perfected, he was damn good at it – but part of you wanted to steal a little of that confidence and inject it into his personality. The presentation ended, and you both took questions; the more technical they became the further you were in your element, and you got to close out by yourself. It would have all been perfect, had someone not thrown in a comment about Nolan finally talking about someone elses ideas. You decided to let it go just this once, because you probably couldn’t have been prouder of him. Nolan had done much the same to you as you had been doing to him when it was your turn to do the talking – and with all your focus elsewhere he couldn’t help but stare at you. He could do it for an elongated period of time when he was standing here; with the type of smile on his face that he assumed you only saw in really sappy old movies. At first he thought it was just nerves, you were kind and sweet and friendly and for the first time since Nolan had started he felt really included in Gregarious. That was before you dragged him into your team, and he knew that from this project alone – and the way you continually alluded to his work even through this presentation – that you were getting him all the exposure he would need. But it wasn’t just a nervous disposition, it wasn’t just because you saw him and what he was capable of, but you made him smile. Really smile. And that smile was on his face from the minute he set about getting ready for work, to late at night as he was falling into bed. Even just looking at you now Nolan consciously realised how much he did think about you – how much more you made him enjoy work. You’d done so much for him and he realised he wasn’t even sure the right way to go about thanking you. Still, Nolan wasn’t so sure he just wanted to thank you. Would you even be interested in being anything more than friends with him? – that just came with the risk of losing you completely. And for a second that hurt, because Nolan couldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. Not even when he felt this strongly; saying anything jeopardised his happiness. Right now, he couldn’t afford that. Even if you said ‘just friends’ - surely things could never be the same… It made his question answering a little distracted, but then, even you seemed a little unfocused until you got into your stride; then his smile came back, and Nolan got to watch you do what you did best. *** You left the room and immediately punched the air “YES! YES! NOLAN! YOU DID IT!!!” You shook his arm, “Oh my god-! You were so good!” You were elated; not only had he been particularly commended on his effort, but several people in the room had already asked if he could help them in their areas. Nolan accepted them all, of course, because he knew as well as you did that once he had all the tools and proved himself, those ideas in his head were one step closer to being a reality. And then maybe Halliday and Morrow would finally put them to use in the OASIS. One step at a time Nolan – he breathed – you made it this far but you have a little while to go. Your dreams have to wait a little longer, but… she gets it, finally someone gets it! Nolan laughed nervously, “Yeah it… it was pretty great-! It felt good, for sure. And you were impeccable, I need to brush up on my technicalities.” “You’ll get there. But you-! Where did that come from? How do you even present like that!? You gotta teach me, I’m not a natural presenter at all.” Nolan wasn’t one for letting you compliment him without continuously fielding them back. You both had to compromise and take credit here-! “WHAT-!? No, no, you present really well… I just… I dunno I guess I kinda find standing up there and throwing a project out to a waiting world kinda… easy.” You couldn’t help but agree with him, thinking on it for a moment, maybe that’s why he was known so much for ideas around here. For the way Nolan would always pitch them; even though his personality would make him out to be a quiet wallflower who did as he was told. Your team were waiting for you when you got back, and seeing you both joking together made them look at one another with knowing smiles. They wondered if you even realised it yourselves yet. You’d been oblivious before, they’d seen it – but Nolan was positively swooning. Yet, you were giving off vibes like you were interested. They’d grabbed a spare packet of confetti from the last time one of the team had a birthday, and as you both entered the room laughing they were staring you down. “I feel like we don’t need to ask, but how did the presentation go-!?” “Well, really… REALLY well!” Nolan flashed a grin, causing them to give each other the same knowing look before laughing themselves and throwing confetti everywhere. “Congratulations-! We knew it!!” For a minute he looked at a loss and you were laughing, quickly explaining the significance of throwing confetti whenever anyone did a good job – although you also had black confetti tucked somewhere for a slightly more ironic version of the celebration. It just made things in the team a little more fun. “OH.” He said, as if he immediately understood and ‘of course how could it be anything else? Teams always do this!’ - but Nolan did smile. “I guess it’s back to it now, right?” “OH NO!” Sorrento also noted your team had their coats on, “You don’t think you’re getting away with just confetti – do ya Nolan-!? It’s celebration time-! We’re going to the BAR!” “Oh?” He wanted to say the bar wasn’t really him, that he was a one drink and go kinda guy, and that really he ought to be saving any money he made and not drinking it… But you were pulling your jacket on too and that made him torn. Again they turned to each other, and they almost wanted to lock the both of you in here until you figured it out yourselves, so they did the next best thing. “Well, you two come when you’re ready.” “Guys, it’s gonna take us like five seconds…” You scanned your emails quickly, but as nothing was urgent opted to sign off. “No, no! Take your time!” “Besides, you know how crowded it gets down at Campari’s, Y/N, we’ll get a table!” “First rounds on me!” You shook your head after them, and turned back to Nolan, tentatively pulling on his coat. “You know, you don’t have to come.” “No- I- It’s for us right, I feel like I should.” “Nolan, it’s alright, really – I’m not the greatest drinker, I’ll have one and head home. Okay, maybe I’ll get a round, it’s my team but… honestly, if bars aren’t your scene.” Nolan shook his head vigorously, blonde hair flying for a moment, meaning he had to scrape it back off his face, slight blush maintained; “No. I want to come. Maybe we can leave together and just have one, right?” “That’s good with me.” You smiled, “But trust me, you do not have to stay.” By the time you got outside they were long gone, and you debated for a moment calling a taxi, before you decided it was better to just walk it and use the exercise. “Man-! I forgot something-!” Nolan turned to you as you suddenly stood stock still on the pavement, “Do you wanna go back?” “No.” You shook your head turning to him, “I forgot to tell you something.” His face immediately turned puzzled, and he straightened before leaning slightly away from you; “What?” You took a deep breath, before beaming, “How proud I am of you. And what you’ve achieved. That I’m just… lucky to have a friend like you… really lucky. We’re pretty like-minded, but different enough for it to work. And I really like being with you Nolan, it makes me happy. I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time and… relaxed and… wow… oh my god…” Your smile faded slowly and your eyes widened, you weren’t looking at his face, or in fact anything at all and you could forget about talking. All you’d succeeded in doing was confusing him; his heart did nothing but sink at the word friend, and for a minute Nolan decided he would have to accept defeat… But suddenly you were talking like him – like the way he felt about you – and it was pouring, until you stopped. Why had you stopped when there was so much more to say? Or Nolan hoped there was – but then did he dare even hope-!? He didn’t hold his breath. You pulled your eyes back to him, and suddenly everything made sense. EVERYTHING made sense, and maybe you were trying to repress it, or you didn’t want to see what you thought you saw. Perhaps you just thought it’d be inappropriate considering, and you didn’t want people thinking you were helping him because of your feelings – but because Nolan Sorrento was worth helping. Now you were standing on a street in the middle of Columbus, Ohio, staring at each other and one thing was clear to you; Nolan projected his feelings. But Nolan wasn’t acting on them. No matter.

You stepped forward, minimal gap though there was between you - because of the way you walked together, shoulders almost always brushing - closing instantly as you pulled him into you. Pushing up on your toes your lips touched his. Nolan froze – he wasn’t even sure of the way he should react. Well – in his head he knew plenty, hold you, pull you closer, kiss you back at the very least!, but his brain would not compute the actions to the rest of his body; he was shocked. Because this was really happening. Nolan could count the number of girlfriends he’d had on one hand, one finger even and it’d never been serious. He also didn’t need both hands to count the number of kisses he’d received – and if he was honest, how many of those were real? How many of them were dares the other party never really wanted to be involved with in the first place? Sorrento didn’t want to dwell on that, and closed his eyes, but if he didn’t do something you would let him go and all too soon. That thought compelled him to wind his arms around you. His kiss back was tentative, as he made sure that was okay to do, but you didn’t pull away from him – encouraged Nolan held you a little tighter. His stomach was full of butterflies and when he thought on it later, all his dreaming didn’t even come close to this feeling – more nervous and more confident than he’d ever been in his entire life. Part of him wanted to go back to his apartment, slam the door and scream in joy (perhaps not, though, that’d only have the neighbours threatening him again) – maybe he could just do that in his head. But right now, Nolan was holding you, and that was all that really mattered. You let each other go gently, both a little breathless, both a little blushy, and both with no idea what to say next. “N… Nolan?” “Yeah?” “I…” “I know…” but his voice pitched, “Me too.” You giggled, finally stealing a look back to his face; “But I meant it.” He nodded, blush rising, “I-I know that too. You said… everything I’ve… wanted to say.” You nodded along, and both of you laughed as conversation became silence once more. Nolan took a deep breath; “Let’s… uh… they, they’re probably waiting for us.” “Yeah. Yeah, good shout!” But as you continued to walk, this time Nolan held his hand out for yours, and felt elated as you took it, entwining your fingers with his. He knew he would have to take this one step at a time – but his confidence was suddenly sky high, and Nolan felt about ready to take on the world. You watched him walk for a moment, how he even seemed to hold himself better – strides giving him the look of a man on a mission. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Nolan Sorrento literally change in front of your eyes. You’d been in relationships before, and although that wasn’t what this was yet, you knew that you were in for a wild ride no matter where it headed. But one thing was for sure, you were going to give him the adorably sweet picture-perfect romance that he deserved.

--- Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed! 😊💜

[lemonlushff-iy]

Inspired by @thunderpot​‘s BEAUTIFUL art...I’m working on a birthday present for her. I have an outline. I’m 50 pages in. I’m powering through this like no other and it’s been a BLAST. 

I can’t keep calling it Atlantis though, or else the name is going to stick...So...I need help. 

Kagome and Sango are scientists and treasure hunters, looking for a new clean energy source. Kagome’s hair-brained idea? Let’s find Atlantis! Little does she know the world she’s about to fall into... (horrible summary but I’ll deal with that later)

Unedited excerpt below!! 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Kagome paused, adjusting the strap on her purse as she looked up from the trashcan. It was a lovely day - the salty ocean air filled her nostrils and the warm sun caressed her tanned skin of her exposed back. A gentle breeze ruffled her midnight tresses, and she nervously tucked a strand behind her ear. His accent was thick and indiscernible. Not quite Greecian...but...something more. Mysterious.

“Excuse you?” she replied, confused by the man before her. Long, thick, inky hair…deep, cerulean eyes with just a fleck of gold in the left iris. His body was lean - his muscles ropey, as if he were an experienced swimmer. 

Made sense given that this was an island over a hundred miles away from Santorini. Nothing but vivid blue seas for miles. 

She had been getting lunch with her fellow colleague, researcher, and best friend, Sango, when this man just…Came up to her out of nowhere!

“That dive you’re planning to do with your friend,” he continued, his eyes serious. “You shouldn’t do it.”

“Were you listening in on us?” she replied, incredulously as she took a step back, away from him. 

“Kinda hard to not,” he shrugged dismissively. “You’re rather loud.”

“Excuse you?” she repeated, trying to not let him grate her nerves. She didn’t know who the hell he thought he was, but he had no right telling her what she could or couldn’t do. And, on top of that…how fucking rude is it to…to…eavesdrop on a random stranger’s conversation and then snidely comment on how loud they are! 

“You won’t find it,” he continued, unperturbed. “You think you’re the first ones to come here looking for Atlantis? Hardly,” he scoffed. “You should just go home.”

“Yeah?” she bit back, now more than a little annoyed with this rude stranger. “And what makes you so sure we won’t?”

He just smirked and turned away from her. 

“Just am. Go home while you still can, Kagome.”

“That sounds like a threat,” she yelled after him as he started walking away.

He paused, looking over his shoulder back at her. 

“Not a threat. A warning. Take your friend and go home.”

***

“Take your friend and go home,” Kagome mumbled under her breath, slipping a tank top over her head as she thought back to earlier that day. 

“Still upset, huh?” Sango commented, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“You weren’t there Sagno,” Kagome bit back as her friend squeezed a dab of toothpaste out onto the dry bristles of her frayed toothbrush. “He was so...cocky...and... condescending! And! And! He was listening long enough to know not only my name, but also the fact that we’re looking for Atlantis!”

Sango just rolled her eyes, allowing her friend to rant about this mystery man as she brushed her upper teeth, watching Kagome’s arms wave around animatedly as she retold the story. Again. For the tenth time. 

Kagome watched her friend pull her hair around to the side of her neck, leaning over the sink to spit the white foam of her toothpaste into it. “You’re obsessing,” Sango finally replied, pointing her toothbrush at her friend. “Men have, and always will, be condescending to us. We’re treasure hunters, Kagome. Not teachers. This is a male dominated field. They are always going to look down on us. Why do you suddenly care what this one random guy thinks?”

“I don’t care what he thinks!” She shot back, pulling her hair into a bun at the top of her head. I’m just...pissed at him! He doesn’t know us and he’s just...just assuming that we can’t do it? Who the hell does he think he is!”

“No one,” Sango sighed. “He’s a no one you are spending way too much time and energy on. Forget him,” she encouraged, beginning to brush her teeth until a thought struck her. “Do you like him?” she gasped, her words coming out garbled as she spoke around the toothbrush hanging limply from her mouth.

“O-of course not!” Kagome sputtered, brushing off her friend. “He was rude, and condescending and--”

“--And attractive and you haven’t stopped talking about him like...once since you got back. I think you have a thing for assholes,” Sango smirked and Kagome reached out, grabbing a damp towel off the rack and threw it at the other woman. Sango just laughed and caught it, chasing after Kagome as she stomped out of the cramped bathroom into their small room, turning on the fan. Even at night, the humid air clung to them like a sticky sap. 

“I do not have a thing for assholes!”

“Yeah? Then what word would you use to describe Hojo?”

Kagome was silent for a beat before snapping back, “cheater. I would describe him as a cheater.”

“So...Asshole?”

Kagome just glared back at her friend, her ire raising with each passing second. 

“Listen, Kags...Don’t let this guy get in your head. You’re a smart, strong, determined woman. We’ve ignored nay sayers all our lives. Why stop now?”

“I know,” she sighed, thinking back to the serious look in the mystery man’s hauntingly blue eyes...All blue, except for that one, beautiful fleck of gold. She wondered why he had it...Genetics? 

Sango was right. 

She was spending far too much time focusing on this guy when she should be getting sleep. 

***

“Fuck!” Kagome swore, sitting back down on the bench in the small boat they had rented, next to Sango, peeling out of her wetsuit. The sun had almost set, the last warm rays of light nearly hidden beyond the horizon. “I thought we would find more out there than that…”

Sango handed her friend a towel, raking her fingers through her hair to work out the knots in her long black tresses. 

“Bad dive again ladies?” their skipper, Miroku, asked in his thick Grecian accent. They would have preferred to have done this without him, but unfortunately...he came with the boat. 

“Yeah. I’m disappointed too,” Sango bemoaned, nodding as Kagome stood, running the terrycloth towel over her wet body. Her skin puckered, turning into gooseflesh as a breeze swept over the ocean water, caressing her body. 

“I’m not giving up hope yet. Everything we have researched so far has told us that the gate should be here.”

“I know,” Sango sighed. “Hey...did...did that place kinda give you chills?”

“Chills?” Kagome pressed, raising her leg onto the bench to dry it.

“Yeah...I don’t know Kags...I just...I felt watched down there. I know it’s crazy, but I swear I felt like something was watching our every move. Maybe we should...just...move on to the next site. The place is so creepy anyways…”

Kagome just rolled her eyes. That place? Creepy? And what would be watching them? Fish? She loved her friend dearly, but Sango was overreacting. It was a little unsettling looking around ruins, sure…but she didn’t think for one second that it was creepy. Besides...They had planned to spend two more days exploring the area before moving onto the next spot.

“Nonsense,” she soothed, tossing the towel back to her friend. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen a hundred times before. Our permit is good for a few more days...I think we should stick with the plan. Head back first thing in the morning. Maybe breathing in all that air from the tanks got to you? I feel it in my bones, Sango. This is the place. I just know it!”

Sango shot her an uncertain look, but just shook her head as Miroku moved inside the cabin, reappearing a second later with a bottle of champagne and three flutes. 

“Enough of this! You are starting your adventure!” he grinned. “Why don’t we pop some champagne in celebration? What do you say ladies? It’s a perfect night to drink a little bubbly at sunset! We can all get to know each other better, since we will be spending quite a bit of time together,” he finished cheekily. 

Sango just narrowed her eyes at the man, and told him they were not interested in drinking at the moment. Instead, she sent him to turn on the ignition and begin the trip home. She hoped they could make it back before the sky completely blackened. 

“Hey,” Kagome soothed when they were alone again. “I promise...two more days. I’ll be with you the whole time. Everything will be fine. It always is, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, still unable to shake the eerie feeling that they were being watched. 

Little did she know how right she was...nor did she notice the black haired head poking out of the waves, watching the unwelcome explorers pull away from the sight. Keen, blue eyes narrowed as they disappeared from sight, a single golden fleck glimmering in the last rays of light. 

That’s it for now...Hopefully it’s enough to spark some ideas?!

It was supposed to be a one shot. Then I wanted to keep it under 60 pages. Then 100. Now I just want it to stay under 130 pages. I’m already 50 pages ( 17478 words) in...I should stop pretending I can keep things short. 

ART:

https://thunderpot.tumblr.com/post/617420192100827136

https://thunderpot.tumblr.com/post/617850310848872448/idk-kags-i-felt-watched-down-there-maybe-we

PLZ HALP GUYS I SUCK SO HARD AT TITLESSSSSSSS AND YALL CAME UP WITH A WORTHY SACRIFICE LAST TIME WHICH IS DOPE AF!

[tarithenurse]

Afterparty

Pairing: Steven Rogers x fem!reader (1st PoV) Wordcount: 3510 Contents: Looooooots of smut. Pretty much only that. A bit of fluff too at the end. Some pining first. But mainly smut: unprotected sex (don’t play like that in real life, please), fingering (fem receiving), oral (male receiving), details.

For ages, or so it feels like, I’ve been pining so hard for Steve. Each time I’ve been tempted to make a move, I’ve managed to stop myself by reminding me how bad an idea it would be to mess up a perfectly good friendship and potentially unbalance the dynamics in the group. The problem is: he’s just about as wonderful as it gets and being stuck in the alleged “friendzone” takes a lot of energy. Each time he smiles or talks, I get fuzzy, which is one of the major reasons I always try to stay clear of any situation that might involve both him and alcohol.

Until now.

It’s been a long night after the dinner, and somehow it has included drinks. Lots of drinks. Which let to a night out on town with Steve, Bucky and Sam. The guys always take pride in taking care of us girls, and with Wanda insisting on staying home…well there’s only one girl left on the West Coast team to somehow keep the three guys in check.

Bucky and Sam are the best type of frienemies, pulling pranks on each other and being sassy as fuck even if they wouldn’t hesitate a second to help if the other is in trouble. Just like they would for Steve. Being one of the girls, I’ve learned to deal with it and can give as good as I get, so sometimes the two team up on me. They do that to anyone, really.

This night had been no different, except at some point Steve must have thought they’d gotten out of line and tried to “defend” me, resulting in a lot K-I-S-S-I-N-G-chanting and other childish things that (according to them) were a way of getting us to finally discover each other. That had been awkward, for me at least when I saw how indignantly Steve tried to refuse any grounds for the banter. Maybe it was to distract Buck and Sam, maybe it was to avoid seeing how foreign the idea of hooking up with me was for Steve, but I’d challenged them to a drinking game.

Yeah…not my best idea.

I’m not used to drinking. Not at all. That’s why I’m more than happy to just lean against the nearest shoulder now we’re on the way home in cab. Even if that shoulder belongs to Steve who’s got an arm protectively around me, holding me up each time I doze off.

“We’re there.” Steve’s voice is gentle and so close to my ear that I half expect to feel his lips.

He helps me out of the car, ignoring Bucky’s and Sam’s nudges and winks, and half carries me, half walks me through the door and into the elevator.

“Gods, it’s been ages since I’ve gotten this hammered.” I groan, already dreading what’s to come unless I do something about it.

The elevator is humming gently, trying to lull me to sleep, and I use my magic to purge some of the alcohol in my system. It’s not my specialty, but it’s enough to clear my head a bit. However, it also means getting back to the stage of drunkenness that I want to avoid when near Steve. Flirty. Horny. The way he’s holding me is pressing me close to him and the ropey muscles of his lower arm are soooo close to my breasts, making me think everything that I’m not supposed to think of.

When the door opens with a soft pling to the guys’ floor, he doesn’t let go as I had expected. “You guys go ahead, I’ll just make sure she makes it all the way to her room.”

I swear, I can see him blush faintly in the polished metal walls of the elevator, but for once neither Buck nor Sam say anything except goodnight. Then the door closes after them. Now comes the real test: trying to behave.

“I’m okay. Got a bit of it out.” I hiccup.

Steve doesn’t seem to believe me. “Sure. But a bit’s not enough.”

“I just need a shower and then sleep.”

The door opens with another pling, and he testingly allows me to walk on my own. I admit, I’m not walking completely straight even if I’m trying my best, so perhaps it’s understandable when he picks me up and carries me the rest of the way. On other occasions, I’d hate that sort of help…but considering how close it’s gotten me to Steve, I’m probably not going to learn from this experience.

Pushing the door open, he puts me down in the middle of the room where I kick off my heels straight away. The faint click behind me proves that the door has closed on its own.

“I’ll start the water for you. You’ll shower and then straight to bed.”

Not the fun kind of orders…unless he’ll join me. “Yes, sir.”

I’m trying desperately to reach the zipper down the length of the back of my dress. How did I ever manage to get this on? It’s a nice dress and I know I look amazing in it, but right now it’s constricting.

“Trouble, doll?” He pauses on the way to the bathroom.

Looking up, I can see the smirk that makes the corner of his mouth twitch playfully. Oh boy, I’m never going to hear the end of this. “I…I can’t reach the zipper.”

“Here. Let me.”

Slowly turning me around so he’s standing behind me, Steve’s fingers find the zipper and pull it open in a smooth movement all the way down to the hem, revealing a few inches of the dark blue bra and undies.

“I should…hang that up.” I hear myself say as I slip it off my shoulders even though he‘s standing right there.

There’s a slight sputter behind me and when I turn, I can see that he’s squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Friend-zoned so much he can’t even stand to see me in what corresponds to a bikini. Always the perfect gentleman, the Captain America. Well in that case, who cares about the rest then? I make quick work at the bra-clasp before slipping both that and the panties off and tossing both things aside.

He’s still blushing. “Just ermm…which way’s the door?”

“Not even gonna say goodnight?” The pout turns into a devious idea and the idea turns into a purring voice. “No goodnight kiss or lullaby?” I swear, I hear Steve’s heartrate double.

Licking his lips quickly, he finds an answer. “You don’t wanna hear me sing, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart, that’s a first. Stepping right in front of him, he’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from the Dorito-shaped body. “Well, just goodnight, then.”

I need to stand on tiptoes to reach his cheek, placing a soft kiss there that makes him hold his breath. Another one’s planted on the opposite cheek, and this time Steve turns his face towards me, trying to find my mouth with his own lips. It’s gentle, safe enough that not even my granny would have complained, and a far cry from what I really want. Reaching up, my fingers trace through the short hairs on the back of his head, pulling him a bit closer to me before I abandon his lips in favour of his jaw which I trace until I reach the tender spot on his neck. Just under the ear. Apparently, that’s the on-button, because he finally makes use of his own hands, one slipping around my waist, the other placing my left hand on his hip.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He sounds out of breath, but hopeful.

“Oh yeah...” I have to stop to scan his close-eyed face in an effort to gage his feelings. “Do you want me to stop?”

I’m already pulling away, but he reels me back in. “I’ve been waiting for this for so…so long.” His normally strong hands are gentle now as they slide up my arms. “I want you. Need you,” breathing in with his nose buried in my hair, he sighs, “but I can’t risk taking advantage of you.”

Thwomp-thwomp, goes my heart, loud enough to fill my ears and strong enough to burst through my chest. Thwomp-thwomp, blending with his words in my mind as I concentrate on my magic. It burns through my veins as the alcohol’s purged, but it’s a sweet fire that edges on a deep, smouldering hunger in the pit of my abdomen. I already knew what I was doing…there was no chance I’d regret or forget my actions unless it had been to let Steve walk out the door without knowing just how badly I crave him. Love him.

Trailing my fingertips across his broad shoulders until they reach his collar, I let them rest at the first button. “Still not changing my mind, babe.” I whisper, looking at him through the darkened lashes.

All this time, his eyes have been closed. Now he opens then, rooting me on the spot with piercing ice that takes in every last detail: my messy hair, slightly smudged makeup, the flush undertone to my skin as his gaze travels down my bared form. Never has a man made me feel so naked while undressed. Steve doesn’t just see my body, he sees more…and he likes what he sees. I know because of the twinkle in his eyes and his gaping mouth as he breathes out one word.

“Impeccable.”

Heat begins to grow as a knot deep down in my stomach. Any answer I might have formulated is prevented from being spoken as our mouths crash together. Soft at first, but nearly two years of pining transform the tenderness into greedy, sloppy kisses and little bites while we each fight for the upper hand.

And speaking of hands: altering between firm grasps and soft strokes, the Captain explores every inch of my skin, causing my nipples to harden as he pinches them in passing before steering me by my hips to straddle his thigh. The first moan escapes him as he feels the dampness between my legs soak into the jeans when he begins to rock me gently.

The pooling heat grows, like a soap bubble it promises mesmerizing beauty before it eventually will burst. But before then…frantically, I manage to unbutton his shirt before he can pull it off the rest of the way himself, leaving me free to tug at the belt and lift the white tank he wears underneath. Gods almighty. Those abs are perfect against my palm, the same with the pecs as I reach further before reverting and dragging my dark-red nails across his skin. His intake of breath is sharp, probably a result of the surprise rather than the faint blushing trails.

Two seconds later he’s got my wrists stuck in an iron grip against my abdomen, and my back is pressed against his muscular form. It went so fast I didn’t have a chance to avoid it, but now that I’m there, feeling his erection press against my ass, I’m not sure I want to object anyways.

“Watch it, sweetheart,” Steve growl, his lips ghosting the tender spot between shoulder and neck, “or you won’t get to touch at all.”

Tilting the hips, I grind torturously slow against the throbbing arousal, eliciting a guttural moan from the man. Still, he doesn’t let go of the wrists, using only one hand to reach towards my crotch. Fingers brush lightly against the short curls then skip to the sensitive skin on the inner thigh. Each feathery touch sets off goosebumps, because my body needs more than he’s giving me, wants more than the teasing. When a single finger finally does trace the crevice between my folds, starting at the point where my legs meet with the crotch and stroking towards the clit languidly, I’m the one to whimper. I can feel Steve smile against the skin of my neck.

“You like that?” Two fingers part the folds, granting access to the slippery wetness in between. There’s no way I can talk, so I just nod. “Good.”

Finally, he lets go, dividing the focus between the long, waving strokes of my pussy and my breasts, the flat expanse of the stomach, gripping tightly onto the hips. And still, after each adventure his hands and fingers return to the sensitive bundle of nerves and the slick folds, building up a pressing longing for more. Who’d have thought the man was “super” at more things than fighting and being kindness incarnated. Reaching back up, I can grab his short hair, carting the fingers through in a futile attempt at guiding his mouth to the right spots. The other latches on to his hip or thigh, depending on how weak in the knees Steve makes me.

A finger slips effortlessly inside, pressing against the wall as the man in charge tests the wetness there. The tightness. Rolling my hips in response pulls a guttural moan from my throat as I feel the invasion deepen and swipe over the perfect spot.

Then the fingers retract, accompanied by a low chuckle. “Not so fast, doll.”

Is it mutiny to disagree? Abandoning the hold on him and trailing the fingertips against the waistband of his trousers, I soon feel the partially unbuckled belt and free him from the restraining leather which I hang over my shoulders. Just in case. A button. A zipper. Both strained from the added pressure of his swell behind them. Stepping back, I get to my knees on the floor from where I can look up at the gorgeous man through my lashes. It almost steals my breath away to notice the brows arched in curiosity as my fingers curl around the offensively covering layers of fabric and begin to pull down. I’m smart enough to lean back on my heels the moment his cock springs free, otherwise it’d have slapped me in the face. Swaffeled, they call it in the Netherlands.

Greedy palms follow the clothes down the thigs before I let them fall around his ankles. It’s impossible not to be somewhat nervously eager to hold the throbbing member, feel the softness of the skin in my palm, and trace the vein underneath it with my tongue. But I place chaste kisses along his hipbone instead, leading closer and closer while I hear his breathing hitch each time lips make contact with the intimate area. And my hands? They are exploring the tension in the muscles of those strong, perfectly shaped legs and ass. I mean honestly, I could bounce a quarter off that touche and it’d shoot straight to Mars!

It amplifies the difference as my fingers nestle at the root of his erection, cupping his sac in my palm. Even as it tightens upwards, the thin skin under the sparing, golden downs is like silk that smooths and wrinkles under the swipe of a thumb.

The sound escaping Steve is otherworldly as my tongue circles the crown of his manhood, lavishly wetting the angrily blushing head before taking it between my lips. Already, there’s a twang of saltiness and it’s egging me on. Pulling back and swirling the tongue around him in tight spirals and then letting go with a soft “pop”, it’s easy to feel the throbbing and twitching accompanied by the sweetest music in the form of drawn-out moans from the Captain. Captain, hah! I feel in control and I love it. A broad stroke running the length of his shaft to the balls has him groaning and I can see his hands flail helplessly through the air, clenching and loosening as he wants to take hold of something. Anything. But all he finds is my hair and although he’s digging his fingers into it, he does so as gently as possible, knowing how strong he is compared to me.

Kissing the tip, tasting the precum, the lips round firm and gentle around his member once more before hollowing my cheeks and taking him in as far as I can. It’s not enough and I have to wrap my hand around the root of the shaft to extend the sensation, the pressure and vacuum constantly altering as I slowly bob my head back and forth. Tongue swirls and strokes hungrily, cajoling delicious sounds from the man who’s always in control.

“Oh…oooh…like that...” His voice’s raw with lust, hoarse from his self-restraint.

That easy? Letting go with a last, lingering lick, I look up at him through my lashes, a devilish smirk betraying how much I enjoy the effect I have on Steve. Just for good measure, though, he gets a few pumps to string him along a few seconds more. Getting to my feet is done in a leisurely pace, my body flush to his statuesque build that’s damp with ill-contained vigour, obvious as well by the rapid breathing and thundering heartbeat I can feel as my hands slip up his chest followed by kisses and love bites.

The moment my arms wrap around his trembling form, he’s hands are everywhere. Stroking, massaging, squeezing. Latching my teeth onto his earlobe, I drag a hiss from him, though clearly of pleasure as his cock twitches against my abdomen.

“Yeah…just like that?” The whisper’s hot against his throat. “Are you gonna ask nicely?”

Steve pulls back abruptly to take in the sight before him, baffled at the boldness of my statement. He’s not a stranger to politeness or polite requests, but this time a darkness fills his eyes, and a hungry smile rivals mine.

“No.” Deep, reverberating, flammable denial.

In a blink of an eye he’s got me lifted off the ground, my legs wrapped around him as he carries me by the thighs. It’s only a few steps, then I feel the cool wall slam against my back, and even though it’s far from as powerful as he could have, it’s still enough to make me gasp in excitement. Something I’d have done again if I’d had the air for it when his lips and teeth latch on to my neck and shoulder, deep growls of lust muffled by the skin.

I feel how he aligns the quivering member between my slippery folds. “Yeah....”

“Then ask…nicely.” The smirk is palpable.

Looks like he’s still got some power over the situation. “Please…fuck me. Hard.” I swallow at the intake of his breath.

I know already that the Captain’s well endowed. I’ve held his cock in my hand, played with my lips and tongue. Still it makes me gasp and moan as he pushes inside me, stretching the walls and allowing me to adjust every other inch until he’s sheathed deep within my slippery heat.

“You okay, doll?” he breathes against my ear, nuzzling the nose in my hair.

I can’t answer with words, only roll my hips to egg him on. And he does begin, slow and rhythmically at first, allowing me to meet each thrust with a tip of my pelvis to augment the sensation each time our bodies clash. Scarlet nails dig into his shoulders. The pace quickens in unison with the growing need from both of us, and he Steve has to pin me by the hips to the wall because my back arches. His grip is bruising, I register in the ecstatic fog of the nearing climax, and still the dull pain adds to the orchestra of pleasurable sensations and swells within me. Each rutting roll of his hips calls forth animalistic sounds from both of us although most are swallowed by gasps for air or the desperate kisses we exchange.

When the walls come crashing down, there’s not even the slightest inkling of control left in me. All I can feel is Steve and the explosive bliss flooding through my body and soul while the muscles convulse in my womb and tense everywhere else. It sends Steve over the edge too. With a roar that sticks in his throat, he rams the cock deep inside and shudders repeatedly just like me as I, or we, begin the decent from the peak of pleasure.

Only when our breaths have evened nearly completely does he carry me to the shower, my legs still wrapped around his waist and his burning, although deflating, heat inside me. Each step bring a new kiss.

…

Lying in his arm, head resting on Steve’s chest and my limps wrapping around the perfect body, it feels strangely familiar. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and now that it’s here it’s more peaceful than expected. More…right.

“Sweetheart?” His quiet words make me look up at him, meeting his ice-blue gaze happily. “I didn’t plan for this. I’m happy, don’t ever think otherwise…I’d just…I wanted to take you on a date first…”

The sigh can also be a giggle and I know I have to clarify my mirthful reaction. “If it’s up to me, then we’ve got plenty of times for dates from now on.”

“Good. I’d like that.”

Snuggling closer, there’s no doubt in my heart that he means it.

[sebbytrash]

Polo

Summary - Marco is the sound of your heart, of your saviour. Its your downfall and your salvation. Marco is the last echoing edges of hope, hope in your heart.

Bucky is your partner in the team, a beautiful, deadly, partnership that is threatened when you go and fall in love with him. Bucky is your Marco. 

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Warnings - Canon typical violence. Mild torture. Swearing. (6k words?) Bucky is a smartass. So are you. 

A/N - This was a request from @girl-next-door-writes from 300 years ago (I’m so sorry) that I’ve been working on a while. It got away from me a bit but I sorta likes how it turned out. A super massive thank you to @abovethesmokestacks for being my wonderful beta (I’m awful with grammar.) 

The ground under your feet feels tacky and wet, the darkness surrounding you gives no clear indication from what but you doubt it’s something good. The air is heavy with presence and death. You feel more than you hear your assailants approach, feel the air whip and the thrum of their energy as they throw themselves toward you. You easily twist out of the way, pivoting to ready for the next attack, planting your feet in a steadying stance. "Marco." You hear him say, having no need to raise his voice, he knows you'll hear regardless. "Polo," you respond instantly, tilting your head up a little as you do. He hones in on it, using it like tracking in the deathly darkness of the room. He shoots, the noise echoes around the room and your assailant slumps to the floor. He makes no other sound, no surprised gasp, no gargles, no last words and you know it's because Bucky hit him right in the head. Even blind, he had a perfect shot. You run towards him, run towards the exit, having gotten what you came here for and ready to get out. Bucky kicks down a door you hadn't seen and the light blinds you for a few seconds, shielding your eyes you follow him through only to throw yourself to the left when a fist flies towards you. There's three of them, two surrounding Bucky, one sizing you up before heading your way. Another spike in adrenaline alters your reality, slowing everything down and allowing a few, sweet seconds where you map your surroundings before it snaps back into place. You let him attack, dodging each blow with relative ease and allowing you time to quickly analyse his fight technique; he's strong but slow, each lunge costing him more and more and giving you the advantage. He sees what he wants to, a woman, the weaker sex, smaller than him and you use it to your advantage. He lunges again and you use the momentum to swipe his legs from under him. He careens forward, unable to control the fall and you manoeuvre around so you can drive a knee into his back sending his face into the concrete below with a force that knocks him clean out. "Marco." You hear the inflection, know what he's going to do. "Polo." One of Bucky's attackers flies towards you, shoved at you by him. You swing up and around his shoulders, using your bodyweight to drive him down like the other, hearing the unmistakable crunch of shattering bones as his body goes slack under you. Turning towards Bucky, you see him standing over the final guard who’s slumped on the floor, a beaten mess. He grins at you, wide  and teethy and only slightly manic, his body a steely calm whilst yours is beginning to shake from the adrenaline. This is his comfort zone, chaos and battle, and it pulls at those feelings. The ones you stuffed down deep, in a place they can't affect you or your partnership with him. You made a helluva team. "Let's get outta here. I'm fucking starving," he says to you, patting his stomach like it's normal to be thinking of food surrounded by all this.

Of course he's thinking about food. He's always thinking about food.

You tend not to dwell, or try not to anyway. Even so, there are quiet moments every once in a while, quiet moments where those thoughts that you ignore stand in a line and demand attention, even just for second. You’re having one of those quiet moments now, here in your room with no one around to distract your neurons from standing in that neat line and marching one by one straight to your heart.

James fuckin Barnes. Master assassin. Cheeto eating champion. Heart ruiner.

You had tried, feebly...half-heartedly, to not fall for him. He was your colleague, your partner and your closest friend. The team jokingly called you husband and wife not knowing how that itched at your skin like you were being eaten alive by the sheer want for it. They didn’t know, of course, your steely nerves and unwavering focus meant you never found yourself caught unaware, or caught staring. You hoped.

Your door flies open and in barges the man himself, a hand over his eyes and the other reaching out blindly, “Put the girls away, Y/N, I’m coming in.”

“You’re already in, genius. And the girls are safely stowed.” You roll your eyes at his dramatics, bite back the smile in response to his following smirk, “One of these days you're gonna get an eyeful and I’m not paying for that therapy.”

“Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for.” He flops down on your bed beside you and pulls your legs onto his lap and rests his hands on the curves. You do your best to control your muscles, feel the threads of your jeans catch fire under his touch and your whole body fight to sigh. Stupid, stupid heart.

��Can’t you go annoy Steve?”

“He’s on a date.” Bucky wags his eyebrows and you can’t help but laugh in response. For an expert marksman and decorated soldier he sure is a dork.

“A date? With who?”

“A civilian, apparently.” His thumb moves in absent circles, catching on the seam on the inside of your thigh and the feeling travels with it. It’s distracting in a way you can’t afford to be and forces you to pull your legs up and under you. He watches you and folds his hands on his lap, loses the signature half-smirk from his face and turns towards you.

“You ever think about doing that?” He looks at you from the side of his eyes, clenching and then loosening his fists.

“Dating a civvie? Nah, seems like too much effort. Too much room for error,” you answer, imagining all the ways it would go wrong, all the missed dates and overrun missions. All that room for heartbreak.

“Sure, yeah, but dating in general even?” His hands now hold all the answers to his questions, or so it seems. It surprises you and terrifies you all at once, the nature of the question.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I do,” you start, not knowing how to finish when the truth is so much more complicated, “But what is it Steve says, hard to find someone with a shared life experience. Ha! Oh, and finding the time?”

He nods at that, tilts his head like he gets it and you suppose he does, “That’s true. He has a point but I dunno, don’t you ever feel like there’s something meant for you?” He sounds so earnest and your stupid, stupid heart beats an anthem for the tone of his voice.

“I like to think there is, yeah. Or hope there is? I dunno, man, how do you even meet someone?” You spiral a bit just thinking about it all, the nature of your life now limits your options in a way you never really considered and the further you go down that rabbit hole, the more you realise you're destined to end up alone. Maybe you need to get a cat.

“Who says  you haven’t already met them?”

“My very lonely vagina says so.”

“Talk to me when it's been 20 years, my friend.”

“Yikes,” you say, and then because you can’t help it, “Does it even still work?”

“Wanna find out?” He wags those eyebrows again and shows off all his teeth.

“Let’s play a game of fuck off...you go first.”

Bucky’s back is to you when you enter the kitchen and you take a second to just appreciate the width of his shoulders and the solidness of his body. No ropey muscles or coil cut abs, he’s all power and sturdiness like he was built that way. He sets out a Coke on the counter and digs around some more.

“Polo,” you say, and he knows, reaches back in and tosses a Coke over his head and directly into your waiting hand. Perfect aim, like always.

“You know, it’s fucking creepy when you guys do that,” Sam says from behind you, earning a half guilty glance over your shoulder that only makes his eyebrows travel further. The look on his face suggesting maybe he’d seen you do all that appreciating but he says nothing further, even attempts to hide the smirk and you pretend your oblivious.

“Jealous is a nice color on you, Zazu,” Bucky says, throws a Coke Sam’s way and leans on the counter like his muscles are made of jelly but you know different, see the coils in his muscles like he's waiting to pounce.

Something glints in Sams eyes, he stares a moment too long and you just know this, whatever it is, is not going to go well. His face falls into a smile, eyes lazily roll from your toes and up and says, “Mmm, hmm. Maybe it’s time you traded the fossil for a younger model, Y/N.”

Bucky’s expression falters for a millisecond, eyes going blank before the lazy smile snaps back into place and you’re left to question if you ever saw a difference. Left wondering if you’re projecting all that hope you refuse to acknowledge and it’s filling in gaps for you.

“Aren’t younger models usually an upgrade? Besides, my girl has better taste than that.” His girl. He says it like it’s no big deal, like he has any right to force that thump from your heart like you didn’t spend hours boxing it in.

Sam scoffs, “You think you’re the upgrade?”

“As nice as it is to have you fake fight over me, I’d rather rip off my own ears than have to listen to you two compare dicks.” You roll your eyes at the both of them and wander off to find a quiet place to control your heart and fight the urge to goddamn swoon at my girl.

Sam laughs, the chimes in heaven laugh and earns a real smile from you in return, holds your eyes a few more seconds and then leaves. Bucky watches this but fails to laugh too, huffs a bit at you when he flops down beside you on the couch, side by side from toe to shoulder.

“Ever heard of personal boundaries?” you say and nudge against his shoulder, he uses the nudge to slip his arm around yours and tug you even closer.

“But I’m so cuddly,” he deadpans, widens his eyes and slow blinks at you.

It does its job, loosens a laugh that you tried to bury, “You really are.” Bury deeper.

He's quiet a while but his leg is trembling along yours and there's a tension in his lines that means he’s got something on his mind. You wait it out, knowing he’ll say it if he wants to, knowing that maybe he just needs the company and the closeness to chase away the demon.

“You like him?” he finally says into the quiet, like random words of a puzzle with the corners.

“Like who?” you ask, because what the fuck?

“Sam.” Sam? Oh. He thinks… the look and the smile. Thinks it’s for Sam. Thinks it’s for Sam and it’s why he’s gone quiet, bothered. Hope fractures through that steely wall around your heart.

“Nah. Nah I don’t like Sam,” you say, pushing the slightest inflection so it’s there if he wants to take it. A small, most hesitant step.

“But you like somebody,” he says it more than he asks, the leg sinks like concrete into the sofa.

“Yeah, I uh, like somebody.” He smiles and tucks his chin, the small smile that leans into hope and it’s enough for now. It’s enough to say it. Suggest it even, leave room for more later if that’s what he wants. A crack in the wall.

The softness of your pillow is like a depth of comfort you never knew until you reached the compound. A level of richness in the sheets and how they glide against your skin is just the most wonderful way to start your day, and you thank Tony for them on an almost daily basis. (In your mind, at least.) You stay there, on the edge of sleep and coast along the consciousness of enjoying the comfort but still under enough to feel your bones like lead and muscles wade through water.

It takes a few minutes for you to fully surface, and few minutes more for your brain to register that it isn’t morning and the light you feel through your eyelids if the Netflix screen playing on a loop from your abandoned binge with Bucky. Bucky... You sit up when you remember and unintentionally startle him too, find yourself on the receiving end of a soldier on auto-pilot and pinned firmly against the wall, the firmness of his arm pressed across your chest and a drowning fear in his eyes. The irises swim in it, roll around in that fight response and then clarity fogs in.

“Y/N. I’m- Shit, I’m so sorry.” He throws himself back and away till he’s pressed up against your headboard. “I can’t believe I… I almost…”

“Bucky. Stop.” His eyes snap to yours at the firmness of your tone, “You did nothing, okay? I’m fine.”

“I hurt you.” It drags up your bones, the pain in his voice, his every fear come to life in one small half of a moment.

“Like hell you did,” you say again, “You reacted, we all do it.”

“Doll…” he starts, ready to argue but you’re armed to the teeth with reasons and boy, is he in for it.

“What about that time I pulled a gun on you in Texas? Or when I kicked out your knee in that awful bar in Edinburgh? Did you blame me?”

“That’s different.”

“Is it now? Explain that for me.”

“I could have really hurt you.”

“And what, I couldn’t have hurt you because… I’m a woman? Here I thought we were equal in this partnership.” You don’t believe that’s what it is but you say it anyway, point out the flaws in his so called logic.

“That’s not what I meant…” His tone tipping, an opening for a win.

“Oh, really? Enlighten me, of wise man of men.”

“Shit. Fine. I get it. Consider me shutting up now.” He gives you a tight smile that gets wider when you match it with your own.

“Good choice.” He laughs at that, reaches out to haul you up beside him and tuck you in close.

“What would I do without you?” He says, dropping his chin on top of your head and grips along your ribcage.

“Die, probably.”

He laughs again, pokes a bit at your ribs before, “I mean it.”

“Me too.” He loses it.

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, the carefree joy on his face lights up all the nerves in your finger tips followed by that resounding thump in your chest. His fingers reach out and blindly clutch at your arm, the metal plates hot against your skin.

It’s been a week since you put a crack in the wall and neither of you have pushed any further. It feels like stunted progress and that hope your heart was feeling is starting to falter. Maybe you misread the situation? Maybe you projected all that tension right onto him and he really is happy with how things are?

A part of you wonders if you should just admit it, tell him how you feel and hope that he’s there with you, but the stronger, more damaged part of you insists that you shouldn’t. It’s a terrible, wonderful thing, these feelings.

“Oh man, I fucking love this show,” Bucky says, wiping the stray tear from his eye and shooting you a bone-melting smile.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that after your obnoxious laughing almost blew an eardrum,” you respond, rolling your eyes and chewing on your lip to keep from smiling.

“My laugh is not obnoxious.” He flicks your shoulder and crosses his legs at the ankle on your coffee table.

“Whatever you say, Janice.”

“Hey! I understood that reference.”

“Well done, dinosaur. Finally catching up on the last 900 years?”

“I’m not too old to kick your ass,” he warns, waggy finger and all.

“I’m terrified,” you deadpan, roll your head to the side and do your best blank stare. He laughs again, that awful, obnoxious, wonderful laugh. You hate it.

You love it.

It's tempting, in these moments, to run your fingers through his hair or along his exquisite jaw line just to see what he would do. Just to see. Your fingers ache with the want, ache and itch inside your clenched fist to feel his stubble scratch against your skin and to see if his shoulders were as sturdy as they looked. He must see your clenched fist because he wraps his fingers round it and gently pulls each finger free, running his thumb over your knuckles like he’s trying to soothe the ache he gave them. It’s gentle, caring, rubs along that hope again just enough to light a fire under it.

“I was thinking about what we talked about, you know, about dating.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mmm, what would you say if I was thinking I might be ready to dip my toe in that particular pool.”

He sits up, drags a hand down over that stubble and then over his mouth, a sudden tension in his spine that makes you want to will the words back into your mouth. You wait, because there’s not much else you can do now that they are out there and you’ve yet to master time travel. You wait, seconds, minutes, years?

“I think… that you deserve that. You deserve it all, and that you should go for it.” Why does he sound so weird. His tone sounds like its scraping the gravel off the payment.

“I should?” You literally can’t stop yourself.

“Yeah, you should,” he says, still facing away from you when he adds as casual as he can muster, “Someone who’s not so broken.”

You feel it when the words hit your chest, splinter inside of you, the rejection only secondary to the knowledge that he feels like he's broken. That he doesn’t know that you're broken too, that he’s the person that's all your glue and pins and duct tape.

“You think you’re broken?” you whisper, finally, and stretch out a hand till you can touch his back, try not to flinch when he moves away from you.

“I know. I can’t even sleep beside you without trying to throw you through your wall,” he says, stands up to put some distance between you, still not looking you in the eye.

“That wasn’t your fault…” you insist, but he cuts you off.

“Of course it was my fault. Do you even hear yourself? Making excuses for me already.” His tone is angry, incredulous even, and he finally looks at you, lets you see the torment in those eyes. The hurricane of pain that swallows up all the color and life in them.

“Bucky, you're being ridiculous.” The desperation is leaking into your voice, bleeding into your energy. The whole situation is spiraling and you’re lost on a solution. You can’t lose him.

“I’m not, Y/N. I’m being…” He stops, his pleading eyes slowly shutting off till they are void and you know where this is going, see it in his bones as he regresses back to the soldier, his gait as he heads to the door and hunches like his stomach is coiling, “I’m not that for you. I’m sorry.”

The door is closed softly, but it feels like the sound is reverberating inside your skull.

It's been more than a few hours since the incident, as you are now referring to it. You know that at some point you'll have to face each other, either talk it out or play in that narrow avoidance of it all but some part of you knows it's broken between you now. Things that can't be unsaid, feelings that can no longer go ignored and the stone in your gut gets heavier with each passing minute, each passing second. It's a ravaging sort of torment that feels like there's something clawing its way out of your soul.

Like maybe Bucky is forcefully taking back that piece of you that's always been his.

The wallowing is cut short by a summons from Fury, a directive for a mission that will provide a merciful break from all the thinking. The mission is for you and Nat alone. You wonder, vaguely, if Bucky will even notice your gone.

You take your time gearing up, long enough that Nat starts to eyeball you in a way that suggests she knows. She doesn't, of course, but she certainly knows something up. It must be exhausting to always be so observant.

“You good?” she finally asks after you repack the same weapon three times. You hum a yes and nod but fail to meet her eyes. “Finally tell him?” Nat knows, she's always known because of who she is and what she notices but you've never outright admitted it but right now you just need to say it out loud and make it real.

“Yeah. I did. He said he's too broken for me.”

“Seems like that might be your choice,” she simply says, pats you on the shoulder and leaves you to your thinking and rethinking.

She’s right, of course. It should be your choice, and Bucky making it for you is damn insulting. You knew all his demons and he knew yours, it’s actually why you made a lot of sense together. If he doesn’t feel the same way then he should just say that and not deny you the right to make your own choices like he somehow knows better than you do. It's not the 1940’s anymore.

The more you think about it, the angrier you get. The partnership you have was based on mutual trust and respect and now he's going to throw that in your face. The strings in your brain holding all your sensible bits together finally snaps and you abandon your gear in favor of stalking through the building till you’re face to face with Bucky’s door. You knock once, sharp, and then enter.

“Come in?” He freezes mid-motion, presumably on his way to the door and gives a look that braces for trouble. Well, good. At least he knows.

“I’m going to say something and you don’t get to interrupt me or disagree or say anything at all and then I’m going to leave, okay?” He must hear it in your voice because he merely nods, apprehension tightening the skin around his eyes.

“I’m so mad at you, Bucky. Not because you don’t want to be with me. No, that I can take and will take because it’s ok, but if the only reason you don’t want to even try is because you think you are too broken and not because you don’t have feelings for me then you are not the man I thought you were. That choice should be mine. Mine, Bucky.”

You slam a hand down on the table between you, fix him with a look that lays you bare, “The only one you need to make is whether you want to be with me. Because anything less tells me that trust and respect between us was false. It’s not the 1940’s anymore.”  

The shock on his face is clear enough that he never thought of it that way, you can tell and so you soften it a bit, “Look, this wasn’t some whim for me. I’ve thought about this, you, a lot, okay? I’ve seen all there is to see, none of it scares me. I don’t love you in spite of these things, I love you because of them.” Your fingers clench at each word, the impact of the words you can never un say but you don’t want to now. The rest, well, that’s up to him.

You turn to leave and when you reach the door he calls out, “No. Don’t. Whatever you have to say can wait.”

“Polo,” you say, or really you spit at them, the blood in your mouth coloring their shirts but the pattern is kinda nice so you give them a bloody smile. They don’t like it when you smile.

“We’re going to get the information, one way or the other. You may as well make it easy on yourself,” your assailant says, gripping your chin with forceful fingers, waiting, “No? Fine, the hard way it is.” He hits you hard across the face with a closed fist, the pain pulls a whine from you but you don’t mind that so much. They’ll never get the information they want so they may as well know your in pain.

The mission with Nat wasn’t going exactly to plan. (Ha!) The details were sketchy, but somewhere along the way you’d gotten caught and were currently being lightly tortured by two goons who were doing their honest to god best, but really, you’d had worse. You’re just biding your time, concentrating on packing away that pain and letting your adrenaline fray away your edges. He’d come. You knew he would.

They try taking turns for a while, one guy favors a punch to the gut whilst the other prefers the face or neck, (and really, getting punched in the neck is fucking sore).

“What the fuck is Polo!” the taller of the two screams at you, his patience all but gone replaced by a manic sort of look that says this might go from bad to worse very, very soon.

“Do you think it’s a person?” the other asks, checking and rechecking the door, showing his hand.

The taller one looks at you, scoffs, “You think someone is coming for you, Princess? No one will find you here.” He throws in a few knuckles to drive his point home. There’s a wavering in your heart and you start to wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe this is it for you, a slow, lonely end.

Nat got out, right? She had to.

“We could draw this out, make it real painful for you,” he says, unsheathing a knife from his back and trailing it along your jaw, “Or, we could make it quick. One precise blow to the heart.” He taps it against your chest, the glint in his eye tells you that he means it.

“Polo,” you say, low and determined, wrap your lips around the word and let it be the thing that gets you through, because even if it’s the last thing you say it’ll mean something. Mean everything.

He’s furious, the tall man, that you are not cowering from him like you should and he decides, you can tell, decides that you are worthless and it’s time to finish it. He fists the knife in his hand, readies himself for the blow and you watch him all the way, wanting to meet it with a fierce defiance of life then… everything goes black. It's all consuming, the black, Taller and Smaller yell for each other, yell at each other to find the power but you know this darkness and you welcome it. Soul reaching for soul.

“Marco.” Symphonies composed from less feeling.

“Polo.” Two shots ring out, followed by two distinct thuds.

Hands find your knees and then your face, bracing and whispering over your cheeks and down to your bonds, his forehead rests against yours as he loosens the ties and a whimper escapes you. The profound relief of having him here, of feeling him against you vastly outweighs the relief of being alive but he doesn’t know that, murmurs soft “You’re safe now” and “I got you” till he has you in his arms. You white knuckle the front of his gear all the way back to the jet.

Sam sees you first, eyes go a little wide as he once-overs you face which tells you how much of a mess Taller made of it, “Ready to go home, kid?”

You try to smile but it comes across like more of a grimace, bloody mouth and split skin so you settle on a nod. Bucky carefully sets you down on bench next to him, draws you up under his arm and keeps a tight hold on your waist. His fingers tremble every few seconds but you can hardly tell against the aches. He doesn’t say anything more except taking inventory of your injuries or making sure you’re somewhat comfortable all the way home.

You wish for a snide remark or joke more than anything else.

Nat sits on your other side gripping your fingers in her hand like she's trying to mold them into her own, doesn’t look at you or question you, simply stays. As close as Bucky will allow, that is.

A residual panic surfaces during a dream, makes you run and run but never get away. The panic must have bled through the dream because the next thing you know there’s a hand stroking your face and whispering, “Shh, Y/N. It’s just a dream.”

You slowly blink awake and up at him, blink again because the sight of Bucky standing over you with such affection is threatening your reality more than the dream. You try to sit up and wince, the reality of the pain that earlier adrenaline had hidden is in full focus. Sharp focus. He helps you sit, careful, slow touches that feel alien to you. You stare at each other for a few beats, the air swimming with all the words that have been left unsaid.

“What’s the verdict?” you ask, just to puncture the silence that feels like it’s pressing on your skin.

“Two cracked ribs, hairline fracture to your jaw but mostly just bruises. A lot of bruises.” His jaw tightens with that last part but he doesn’t say anything further, even though he wants to. It’s part of the deal, the partnership, that there’s no blame or guilt trip when someone is hurt. It’s why it works. Worked.

“We’ve had worse.” You look down at your hands because it's the only part you can see, look at your scraped knuckles and raw wrists from being bound, see the clean fingernails, wonder if it was Bucky who cleaned them.

“We should talk,” he says, drops lead right into your stomach.

“Is it absolutely necessary to kick a girl-”

“You were right,” he interrupts

“-when she’s down?” you finish and then catch up on what he said, “Huh?”

“You were right, I was making a decision for you that I had no business making.”

“Oh.” As much as you want to hope, there’s this nagging little doubt, eating away at the back of your mind. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying what I should have said on that couch, I’m saying I’m a fucking idiot…” He reaches for your hand, presses his thumb up and over your aching wrist and looks at you with such soft eyes, “I’m saying, I’m in love with you. That I wanna dip my toes too, if you’ll let me.”

It’s everything you hoped for, all the soft nudges and beats in that heart filled deep with the hope but now it’s there, that nagging doubt and so you press, have to really. For your sanity. It takes another second for you to align your thoughts and Bucky starts to thrum, pulls on his bottom lip before, “You seem… underwhelmed.”

“It’s just… Is this one of those cliches where the person got hurt and now you feel obligated in some way?” You say it, even as your heart fights to take all the letters back, to go a few seconds and relive the best bits till it’s fit to burst.

He gathers up himself till almost his entire top half is on the bed beside you, rests his forehead against yours like he did a few hours ago and threads his fingers along your jaw, “No, no, god no. I’m sorry, so sorry that you have to think that.”

He takes a steadying breath and looks at you, smiles in that soft way again, “I came looking for you, earlier. After you handed my ass to me, that is,” he explains, the smile turning a little wry, “I came to apologise but you were gone. Friday can vouch for me.”

“I don’t need Friday to vouch for you, Bucky. If you say it, I believe it.” And you smile, finally, let yourself hang out on all that hope turned fruitful. It’s the most weightless a smile has every been, like it’ll float right off your face a skyward. He matches it with one of his own, the two of you pressed together with these marshmallow grins and it’s so nice, so right.

“So, we’re doing this?” he asks, just to be sure.

“You’re not worried about hurting me now?”

“Of course I am,” he says, “But I figure I can’t do any worse than you do to yourself.” He gestures at your body vaguely with a smirk that reaches up all the way up to his eyes. You laugh and then wince (Hello ribs!), and then laugh again, take it as the offering it is. That he’s willing, if you are, even if he’s scared.

“Then I guess we’re doing this.” You say, tilt your head like an offer and slip a hand up to curl in the neck of his T-shirt. He takes the hint, presses his mouth to yours in that soft way he seems to have now, lets you decide how far you want to push that split skin which is nice, sweet even, but you grip the tee tighter and pull him right in to that kiss with you, swallow that hum he makes and feel his whole body bend to match your pace. Feel the warmth and the fullness of his lips, feel that warmth spread right to your bones, right to your marrow. You take a second to just feel it, to gather it up and let it flavor your heart, keep it right next to all that hope. He can’t, or doesn’t, hide the desperate edge to his lips, the tremble in his hand on the back of your neck or the shaky gasp of breaths you both take in between touches. You pull back when the low ache becomes loud, when the tangible heat snags in your chest and you know there’s nowhere for it to go.

He looks at you, does nothing to stifle the heat in his gaze or the intent in that smile, finally lets his head fall against you between your clavicle and shoulder, “You know how to pick your moments for being out of action, doll.”

“Me? You’re the one who waited till the 9th inning to make a fucking move,” you shoot back at him, hiding your smirk for as long as you can.

“Well, one of us had to play hard to get, y’know?” He rolls his head to catch your eye and smile up at you. It’s ridiculous. You love it.

“4 years of foreplay wasn’t enough?” It was for you, damn. It really was.

“Jeez, when you put it that way. Pants off, Bing.” His shoulders hunch at his own joke, and this man is in charge of weapons. Dork.

“Time for another game, Hide and Go fuck yourself,” you laugh, and then because you can, place a kiss on his cheek and then his mouth.

“Mmm, I like the sound of that game, but I won’t be fucking myself.” He throws you an exaggerated wink, one that you meet with a flick to the eyebrow “Ouch!”

“Dork.” The tone of your voice makes it sound like a compliment.

“And now I’m your dork,” he says back, sincere. Final.

[lemonlushff-iy]

Overwhelming  day at work...Just wanted to play for a sec. 

Working title: Atlantis

Birthday present fic for @thunderpo

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Kagome paused, adjusting the strap on her purse as she looked up from the trashcan. It was a lovely day - the salty ocean air filled her nostrils and the warm sun caressed her tanned skin of her exposed back. A gentle breeze ruffled her midnight tresses, and she nervously tucked a strand behind her ear.

“Excuse you?” she replied, confused by the man before her. His accent was thick and indiscernible. Not quite Grecian...but...something more. It was…hard to place and mysterious. Long, thick, inky hair…deep, cerulean eyes with just a fleck of gold in the left iris. His body was lean - his muscles ropey, as if he were an experienced swimmer. 

Made sense given that this was an island over a hundred miles away from Santorini. Nothing but vivid blue seas for miles. 

She had been getting lunch with her fellow colleague, researcher, and best friend, Sango, when this man just…Came up to her out of nowhere!

“That dive you’re planning to do with your friend,” he continued, his eyes serious. “You shouldn’t do it.”

“Were you listening in on us?” she replied, incredulously as she took a step back, away from him. 

“Kind of hard to not,” he shrugged dismissively. “You’re rather loud.”

“Excuse you?” she repeated, trying to not let him grate her nerves. She didn’t know who the hell he thought he was, but he had no right telling her what she could or couldn’t do. And, on top of that…how fucking rude is it to…to…eavesdrop on a random stranger’s conversation and then snidely comment on how loud they are! 

“You won’t find it,” he continued, unperturbed. “You think you’re the first ones to come here looking for Atlantis? Hardly,” he scoffed. “You should just go home.”

“Yeah?” she bit back, now more than a little annoyed with this rude stranger. “And what makes you so sure we won’t?”

He just smirked and turned away from her. 

“Just am. Go home while you still can, Kagome.”

“That sounds like a threat,” she yelled after him as he started walking away.

He paused, looking over his shoulder back at her. 

“Not a threat. A warning. Take your friend and go home.”

***

 “Take your friend and go home,” Kagome mumbled under her breath, slipping a tank top over her head as she thought back to earlier that day.

“Still upset, huh?” Sango commented, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“You weren’t there Sagno,” Kagome bit back as her friend squeezed a dab of toothpaste out onto the dry bristles of her frayed toothbrush. “He was so...cocky...and...condescending! And! And! He was listening long enough to know not only my  name, but also the fact that we’re looking for Atlantis!”

Sango just rolled her eyes, allowing her friend to rant about this mystery man as she brushed her upper teeth, watching Kagome’s arms wave around animatedly as she retold the story. Again. For the tenth time. 

Kagome watched her friend pull her hair around to the side of her neck, leaning over the sink to spit the white foam of her toothpaste into it. “You’re obsessing,” Sango finally replied, pointing her toothbrush at her friend. “Men have, and always will, be condescending to us. We’re treasure hunters, Kagome. Not teachers. This is a male dominated field. They are always going to look down on us. Why do you suddenly care what this one random guy thinks?”

“I don’t care what he thinks!” She shot back, pulling her hair into a bun at the top of her head. I’m just...pissed at him! He doesn’t know us and he’s just...just assuming that we can’t do it? Who the hell does he think he is!”

“No one,” Sango sighed. “He’s a no one you are spending way too much time and energy on. Forget him,” she encouraged, beginning to brush her teeth until a thought struck her. “Do you like him?” she gasped, her words coming out garbled as she spoke around the toothbrush hanging limply from her mouth.

“O-of course not!” Kagome sputtered, brushing off her friend. “He was rude, and condescending and--”

“--And attractive and you haven’t stopped talking about him like...once since you got back. I think you have a thing for assholes,” Sango smirked and Kagome reached out, grabbing a damp towel off the rack and threw it at the other woman. Sango just laughed and caught it, chasing after Kagome as she stomped out of the cramped bathroom into their small room, turning on the fan. Even at night, the humid air clung to them like a sticky sap. 

“I do not have a thing for assholes!”

“Yeah? Then what word would you use to describe Hojo?”

Kagome was silent for a beat before snapping back, “cheater. I would describe him as a cheater.”

“So...Asshole?”

Kagome just glared back at her friend, her ire raising with each passing second. 

“Listen, Kags...Don’t let this guy get in your head. You’re a smart, strong, determined woman. We’ve ignored nay sayers all our lives. Why stop now?”

“I know,” she sighed, thinking back to the serious look in the mystery man’s hauntingly blue eyes...All blue, except for that one, beautiful fleck of gold. She wondered why he had it...Genetics? 

Sango was right. 

She was spending far too much time focusing on this guy when she should be getting sleep. 

 ***

 “Fuck!” Kagome swore, sitting back down on the bench in the small boat they had rented, next to Sango, peeling out of her wetsuit. The sun had almost set, the last warm rays of light nearly hidden beyond the horizon. “I thought we would find more out there than that…”

Sango handed her friend a towel, raking her fingers through her hair to work out the knots in her long black tresses. 

“Yeah. I’m disappointed too,” she bemoaned as Kagome stood, running the terrycloth towel over her wet body. Her skin puckered, turning into gooseflesh as a breeze swept over the ocean water, caressing her body. 

“I’m not giving up hope yet. Everything we have researched so far has told us that the gate should be here.”

“I know,” Sango sighed. “Hey...did...did that place kinda give you chills?”

“Chills?” Kagome pressed, raising her leg onto the bench to dry it.

“Yeah...I don’t know Kags...I just...I felt watched down there. I know it’s crazy, but I swear I felt like something was watching our every move. Maybe we should...just...move on to the next site. The place is so creepy anyways…”

Kagome just rolled her eyes. That place? Creepy? And what would be watching them? Fish? She loved her friend dearly, but Sango was overreacting. It was a little unsettling looking around ruins, sure…but she didn’t think for one second that it was creepy. Besides...They had planned to spend two more days exploring the area before moving onto the next spot.

“Nonsense,” she soothed, tossing the towel back to her friend. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen a hundred times before. Our permit is good for a few more days...I think we should stick with the plan. Head back first thing in the morning. Maybe breathing in all that air from the tanks got to you? I feel it in my bones, Sango. This is the place. I just know it!”

Sango shot her an uncertain look, but just shook her head, moving inside the cabin to turn on the ignition and begin the trip home. She hoped they could make it back before the sky completely blackened. 

“Hey,” Kagome called after her, following her into the cabin as she pulled up the gps to navigate their way home. “I promise...two more days. I’ll be with you the whole time. Everything will be fine. It always is, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, still unable to shake the eerie feeling that they were being watched. 

Little did she know how right she was...nor did she notice the black haired head poking out of the waves, watching the unwelcome explorers pull away from the sight. Keen, blue eyes narrowed as they disappeared from sight, a single golden fleck glimmering in the last rays of light. 

@dangerouspompadour @clearwillow  @underwater0phelia @keichanz @superpixie42