#William has been bouncing around in my head for a while though

[yoiurboi]

Some headcanons / au stuff for these guys that I need to get out of my system:

William:

Full name is William Maurice Afton Jr.

Born 1935

He comes from old money, being the heir to a really successful steel production company.

He's actually William Afton VI, but this got shortened to William Junior since the first four William Maurices died before he was born.

Was raised by his father after his mother and older brother died in WW2. Tries his best not to repeat his dad's mistakes but does the horseshoe theory thing and refuses to go therapy.

Had to be physically restrained from naming his first born William III. Didn't get to name Elizabeth because shes an affair baby. Did name crying child, resulted in the abomination that is David Evan-Christopher Cecil Afton. All of which are first names.

Serial adulterer, claims to feel guilty any time he cheats but then does it again like, two minutes later.

Can't see for shit without his glasses. Missing children's incident could've been avoided if someone hid his glasses on top of the fridge where he can't reach them.

Henry:

Full name is Henry Frederick Emily.

Born 1935.

Has two older siblings, Jen and Scott.

Was born in Georgia but moved to Utah during middle school.

Joined the army right after high school and stayed there until the sixties. Got discharged to take charge of his dying mother.

Undiagnosed Autism, no special interest but he knows a lot about engineering and pyrotechnics.

Definetly not attracted to women. Still got married and had kids though. Surely this will not cause problems in his relationship with his wife or anything crazy like that.

Claims he doesn't have a favorite kid. Its Charlie.

William and him have definetly explored each other's bodies in those fucking springlock suits it's canon guys idk what to tell you.

Their relationship is anything but healthy.

Edwin thought he hated him when they first met cause Henry just stared at him ominously for a bit but turns out he's just Like That.

Farsighted.

Edwin:

I do believe his canon name is Edwin Sean Murray Jr, so we're just going with that.

Born 1949.

Schrodinger's nepo baby.

Mormon, has lived in Utah his whole life.

He and Fiona wanted a big family. They never got to fulfill that wish.

Absolute mean streak. Him and William can go head to head with pettiness it's craaazy.

Definetly talks to his creations like a sadder, more socially akward version of a mad scientist.

William low key hated him because Edwin can actually draw unlike someone in this room.

Probably the most well adjusted of the trio up until the Incident.

Nearsighted.

Five Nights at Middle Aged White Men Who Can't Cope In Healthy Ways.

Happy (belated) Secret of the Mimic Day. It's peak!!! Edwin is a LOSER! Except more of these three. Or not! I keep forgetting to take my meds--

[kiyawritesforf1]

PADDOCK PROPOSAL

Nothing just two cutieeesss being cuteee 🥰🥰✨✨

Pairing : Carlos Sainz x Wife!reader

You’ve just finished a long day of pre-race preparations in the Williams garage. The hustle of the paddock has settled into a hum as teams make their final checks, drivers prepare to head to their cars, and family members and friends mingle around, catching up in between the madness of race weekend.

You and Carlos are standing near the pit wall, chatting with a couple of engineers about car setups. Your 3-year-old daughter, Isabella, has been playing with Lando’s son, Theo, while their parents work. It’s not unusual for the kids to run around in the paddock, giggling and causing a ruckus as everyone else prepares for the race.

You can hear their laughter even as the roar of the engines fills the air. Isabella and Theo have become fast friends over the past couple of years, often seen holding hands and whispering secrets, though their conversations mostly consist of giggles and playful nonsense.

And then, just as you and Carlos are about to finish up, you feel a tiny tug at your leg.

You look down, expecting to see Isabella grinning up at you, as usual. Instead, she holds out her little hand, beaming with pride.

“Mamá, mamá, look!” she says, her voice filled with excitement. You kneel down, her big eyes sparkling as she opens her palm to reveal a dazzling diamond ring. You blink for a moment, stunned, before breaking into a giggle.

“Oh my gosh, what is this, little one?” you laugh, trying not to laugh too loudly.

Isabella is practically bouncing on her heels, eager to show you her “treasure.” “Theo gave me this! We’re going to get married! Like you and daddy!” she exclaims, holding the ring up proudly.

At that moment, Carlos walks over, his brow furrowed in concentration as he chats with one of the engineers. His eyes soften when he sees Isabella, but when they land on the ring she’s holding, a flicker of concern crosses his face.

“What’s this, amor?” Carlos asks, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. His eyes go straight to the ring, then back to Isabella.

You can’t help but laugh. “Carlos, it’s just a little toy ring—Theo’s ring from his mom. They’re just playing around.”

But Carlos isn’t laughing. He’s staring at the ring as if it’s a bomb about to go off. You can see him fighting to keep his composure. His hand unconsciously tightens around his clipboard, his eyes narrowing.

“Who gave you this, Isabella?” he asks again, his voice dangerously calm.

Isabella, blissfully unaware of the growing tension, looks up at him with a huge grin. “Theo, daddy! Theo is my boyfriend, and we’re going to get married and live together!”

Carlos freezes. His jaw clenches. He looks at you as if asking for some kind of confirmation that this is all a joke. But the twinkle in Isabella’s eyes and the innocent excitement in her voice make it clear that she’s completely serious about this “engagement.”

You can’t help it. You burst into laughter. You cover your mouth, trying to hide your amusement, but it’s no use. The sight of Carlos’s face—a mixture of confusion, shock, and maybe just a little heartbreak—is too much to handle.

Carlos looks back at you, his protective instincts kicking in. “I... I just... What do you mean, ‘boyfriend’? The boy is *English*, Y/N. English,” he mutters, clearly in a state of disbelief.

You laugh even harder, trying to stifle it. “Carlos, it’s just a game! They’re three and five years old. They’re pretending, cariño.”

Carlos’s gaze is fixed on Isabella and Theo as they happily dance around, oblivious to his internal panic. He watches, his hands crossed in front of him, his protective nature taking over.

“An English boy,” he repeats, as if it’s some kind of tragedy. “Does he know how to make a proper *paella*?” He shakes his head, more concerned about the boy’s culinary skills than anything else. “*Muy educado*, I’m sure. But does he know how to make a real *tortilla española*?”

You almost choke on your laughter. “Carlos, seriously?”

Carlos looks back at you, his face trying to maintain some sense of dignity. “He has no business giving my daughter a ring. And what’s this ‘marriage’ talk? She’s three!”

Before you can respond, you hear Lando’s unmistakable laugh from a few feet away. You turn to see him, casually leaning against a nearby workbench, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly smug expression plastered on his face.

“Well, well,” Lando says, stepping into the conversation like a man who’s enjoying every second of Carlos’s discomfort. “Looks like the wedding is already in the works. I mean, the kids have made up their minds, right?”

Carlos shoots him a glare, but Lando isn’t phased in the slightest. He walks over, his grin widening. “Theo’s already got the ring. What are we waiting for? Should we start planning the *boda*? I can handle the RSVP.”

Carlos turns his full attention to Lando now, his arms folding across his chest, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s trying so hard to maintain composure, but it’s obvious that Lando is enjoying every minute of this.

“You think this is funny, Lando?” Carlos growls, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice despite the tension.

Lando shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying, Carlos... Theo’s got great taste. He’s got the ring, he’s got the moves. I mean, Isabella is already the most beautiful girl in the paddock, so I think they’re off to a good start.”

Carlos, now fully frustrated, glances at you for support. You can’t help but laugh again, shaking your head. “Carlos, it’s adorable. Theo’s a *kid*. They’re just playing. And if they do end up together, it’s not like we’re going to stop them, right?”

Carlos looks at you with that familiar look—half-exasperated, half-smiling. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for this. I mean, an *English* boy? What if he starts teaching her the wrong things?”

Lando, ever the cheeky one, leans in with a grin. “You mean like how to *drive* a Formula 1 car? Yeah, that would be a shame.” He laughs at his own joke, clearly enjoying Carlos’s discomfort.

Carlos lets out a heavy sigh, trying not to show how much the whole situation is bothering him. He looks at Isabella, who’s spinning around with Theo, both of them laughing in delight. His expression softens just a little.

“Well,” Carlos mutters, looking at the ring in Isabella’s hand, then back at Lando, “I suppose if the boy knows how to make a good *paella*... I’ll consider it.”

Lando raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Looks like we’re one step closer to a paddock wedding.”

Carlos looks at you, his protective nature slowly fading into reluctant acceptance. “I’ll let them play... for now.” He pauses, glancing back at Isabella and Theo, a small, resigned smile on his face. “But no *paella* until he’s learned the basics.”

You step closer to Carlos, smiling softly as you place a hand on his arm. “Carlos, she’s growing up, and someday she’ll find someone who’ll treat her right, whether they’re Spanish or English. And for now... let her have this.”

Carlos, still a little unsure, watches Isabella, who runs over to him with her tiny hands outstretched. “Papa! Look at my ring! Theo gave it to me! We’re getting married!”

He smiles, albeit reluctantly, and takes the ring from her hand, gazing at it for a moment before looking back at you with a deep sigh.

“You’re right, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice softening. “But I’m not ready to give her away just yet.”

Lando chuckles in the background, clearly relishing the moment. “Don’t worry, Carlos. We’ve got plenty of time before the big day. I’ll be sure to save you a seat at the wedding.”

And with that, Carlos gives Lando a look that could melt steel, but there’s no hiding the soft smile on his face as he hugs Isabella close.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll come around to the idea of his little girl getting married someday—*just not yet*.

---

**End.**

---

[the-winter-spider]

But Daddy I Love Him | B.Barnes

Word Count: 3k

Pairings: Bucky barnes x reader

Warnings: Abuse, swearing, angst

A/N: This is an older fic i had, that really was going nowhere decided to start working on it and here we are! Not edited or proof read.

Masterlist

—

1940s

You were anxiously waiting on his front steps, your right knee bouncing up and down, while your shaking fingers were fidgeting with the hem of your dress. You knew the boys would be back anytime soon from whatever double date they were on, because Bucky promised you that no matter what he would be home at 9pm sharp for you and every night since then he has been, but tonight he was cutting it close.

You pushed up your sleeve and looked down at your watch. It was 9:52pm, he was late. You let out a loud sigh, you stood up and brushed your dress off because god forbid if you went home and your father saw dirt on your silk dress he would know exactly where you went and you were so afraid he would raise his hand to you again, taking one final glance at your watch you knew he wasn't coming. You couldn't blame him either because you’ve never needed him before so he probably just thought being a little late wouldn’t do any damage. You placed your clutch down beside you, placing your head between your hands letting the tears flow thinking of the events that happened just 30 minutes before.

—

Flashback

“You will marry him!” Your father shouted at you slamming his fist down into his desk in the study.

You clenched your fists your nails digging into your skin, you could feel the nails breaking the skin on the palm of your hand, your heart was thumping so loud you almost didn’t here the words come out of your mouth, you’ve said them in your bathroom in front of the mirror so many times you almost didn’t believe this was real till you felt your father's open hand hit right cheek, his rings slicing open skin, your head went sharply to the left, your grasped your cheek out of instinct.

“What did you say?” He was standing directly in front of you, it felt like some old movie western showdown. He was challenging you.

You took a big breath turning your head to face him, looking him in the eyes “No Father, I will not be marrying him, I will not be marrying a man I am not in love with! I don’t love him!”

Your father scoffed, stomping back over to his desk“Yeah what do you know about love?” Taking a drink out of his whisky.

“More than you” You whispered

He turned to face you, whisky in hand “Let me guess you are in love with that poor, scumbag of a man, no, a boy who lived across town?” He paused, waiting for a response, he laughed when you didn’t give one, of course he was right, he always was. “You will NEVER have a life with him, you will live on the streets if you marry that boy!”

Tears were welling in your eyes “At least I will be loved!”

“He doesn’t even love you! Or he wouldn’t be out with a different girl every night, you do not think i know? You think because I am an old man I do not keep tabs on my only daughter?” He finished what was left of his whiskey, his eyes dark. When he was drunk he was always so malicious, you were waiting for another punch to the gut, not literally, now that was out of pocket, even for your Father nowadays “I see him y’know, around town, always out dancing with some pretty girl, a new one every week, never you though. You’re a Stark for christ sake, you have brains i know you do, so why don’t you fucking use them? He doesn’t love you! You WILL marry William's son and that's final!” your father grabbed his empty whisky glass throwing it directly at the wall beside your head just missing you, as it shattered beside you. You ran out of his study grabbing your clutch on the way out. As you were about to leave you heard your father shout “If you leave you never come back you hear, you ungrateful brat!”

—

Wiping your tears away you started walking in the opposite direction of Bucky and Steve's apartment. Tears were already streaming down your bruising cheek, tonight was the worst your father ever hit you. He wasn’t always like that, honestly he wasn’t at all till you turned of age. It got especially worse when your older brother was starting to live up to your last name and while you were never expected to be anything more than someone's arm candy, your father held the standards of whomever you were to marry so high, and your taste was never good enough according to him. So the fights broke out almost weekly, you would go on the dates him and your mother would aet you up on but he would lose it on you when they never would go past a second or third date because well as the men would put it you were “rude” “off putting” “gorgeous but with a mouth on her” “Not wife material” and your Father started to have enough of it, he would scream, throw things, grip your wrists, or shoulders a little too tight and recently his ringed hand would find your cheek. You just couldn't understand why he didn't want you to marry for love, why he didn't want someone who loved you has your husband not just rich asshole who was marrying you for your looks, your families money or more importantly because of your last name, Stark

As you were walking away, not knowing where you were going because surely your father would still be up and you couldn’t deal with that right now. With him apologising, saying he was sorry but he had lost his temper, that it wouldn’t happen again, not like this. That you could talk about it more in the morning when things have calmed down, which you wouldn’t because he would come home from work and tell you all about someone at works son or brother whom were single and looking for a wife and you would smile, nod go on the dates and well it was a cycle you were over. This time was the last straw.

You decided to walk, you had no idea where to because well you had nowhere to go but it beat sitting around waiting for someone who might not show up at all. Maybe you were just being bitter because you knew Bucky and if he knew you were sitting on his front step, even if you were okay and nothing was wrong he’d be there in a heartbeat. But what your Father said to you was starting to itch, you tried not to scratch it but you couldn’t help it because even though you hated to admit it sometimes he was a genius.

You couldn’t help but wonder why he never tried to make a move, you gave him so many opportunities, and by all means you made it so obvious it's what you wanted and that it was okay to do so.

—

Flashback

“Where's Steve?” You leaned slightly to the right to look behind Bucky for any sign of your best friend.

“He’s not feeling well, decided to sit this one out” Bucky shrugged his shoulder, his arm reaching out to grab your hand, intertwining it with yours.

You knew Steve was prone to getting sick, it happened a lot but each time it happened you still couldn’t help but feel bad Steve didn’t deserve all the shit he got put through “Maybe we should go get some of that soup he loves and we could go get …”

Bucky cut you off with his laugh, smiling lightly, squeezing your hand reassuringly. He knew your concern and care for Steve, always tending to his health and well-being. But, at the moment, Bucky had other plans in mind.

He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and whispered in your ear. "You know, I was thinking. Since Steve's not here, maybe we can take advantage of the opportunity to have some fun just for ourselves."

When you got stiff and didn't reply he spoke again, a cheeky smile playing across his lips as he tried to persuade you to set aside your worries for Steve's well-being. "Listen, doll, Steve's a tough fella. I'm sure he'll manage just fine on his own.”

You sighed leaning into him, slightly bumping your shoulder with his “I guess you're right Buck, i just worry about him y'know. But it would be nice to spend time together, just us two, I don't remember the last time we did…”

He let go of your hand, throwing his arms up “Eureka!” He shouted “That's the spirit” He flung his arm around your shoulder

You laughed at his dramatica, swinging your arm around his waist “Okay Buck” You grinned looking up at him “So where to first?”

Bucky chuckled at your question, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. He was glad you agreed to spend some time together without Steve. He wouldn’t tell you that maybe Steve being sick was a tiny fib. Steve himself told Bucky to tell you in hopes that some alone time with you would make Bucky finally tell you how he felt.

"Well, doll, the worlds at our fingertips. Maybe we could check out some of those fancy new technologies? Or we could just wander around and see where the night takes us."

You slightly rolled your eyes, you loved that Bucky was so into all the new technologies your big brother, Howard came up with but it was something you already knew like the back of your hand and you didn't want to waste your night alone with Bucky, the very few you got i might add, talking about how amazing your brother was, it was something you already heard enough about at home.

“Am I not good enough to take dancing like all your other dames?” You smirked “I don't remember the last time i went dancing Buck” A slight whine to your voice

He smiled looking down at you “Well sweetheart if we do that then i'll never be able to dance with any other girl again”

You laughed, you had been in love with Bucky for years and these little moments where he flirted with you filled your heart with such joy, made it grow two sizes too big but the despair always lingered in the pit of your stomach knowing he did the same with every other girl but they also got to kiss those beautiful lips, you shook the feeling away “Why's that you flirt?”

Bucky smiled fondly looking down at you “Because none of them could ever come even close to having you in my arms, i'll never be the same after twirling you around the dance floor, they don't compare doll, id never be able to find another dance partner good enough” He paused “So i'm afraid if i take you dancing tonight, you’ll be my only dance partner for the rest of my life, if that's okay with you”

“As sweet as that statement was, i can't see you ever only having one dance partner for the rest of your life, let alone little old me”

His brows furrowed, he hated when you belittle yourself “You being the only dance partner for the rest of my life would be my greatest accomplishment doll”

—

All three of you knew, especially Steve how you and Bucky truly felt about each other but he never said anything because he knew just as well as you two did that you could never be together, your father simply wouldn't allow it, Bucky didn't come from money like you, therefore it wasnt allowed, so you both pushed those feelings as far down as possibly, Bucky handled his by smothering them in other women and you well swept it under the rug like your dearest mother had taught you, both your feelings for Bucky and your pain each time he got back from a date with another women.

“y/n?” A soft voice broke you out of your thoughts, you never realized how far you made it till you took in your surroundings, you were at some random park on the other side of town.

“Stevie? What are you doing here?” You sniffled trying your best to hide your face.

“Well y’know, the dame Bucky set me up with wasn’t interested so i left, Bucky told me to wait here but that was, i don't know how long ago” He scratched the back of his head

“Its 10:19pm if that helps” You offered a small smile. You could see the look on Steve's face when he registered that Bucky was late late “y/n, I-“

“Its fine Steve really, it was bound to happen at some point”

“So uh, where were you off to, this isn’t exactly your side of town, you should be careful”

“I should be careful huh? Who was the one who’s butt i saved last week” you slightly shoved his shoulder and giggled and that's when the smile was completely wiped off your face, Steve's face hardened and was laced with anger and concern, you dropped your face, he saw it, you knew he would eventually but you still felt ashamed and insecure “y/n?” Steve said softly and took a step towards you and you took a step back, Steve looked hurt but stopped moving “Did your Father do this to you? I thought you said he stopped?”

“He did, for a little while, things were okay” You shrugged “It's really nothing, I should get going”

“y/n!” Steve said again a little louder, he gently grabbed your arms to stop you from leaving. You froze when he touched you, and looked up at him. The light on the sidewalk was just enough to show him the full extent of the damage and it broke his heart to see you so defeated.

“Nothing?! You have a black eye and your cheek is swollen, your lip is split, that is not nothing!” Steve shouted and for someone so small his voice was loud and stern, it made you flinch, His face softened when he watched you “Y/n, i didn't mean to yell, but you can't go back”

A single tear rolled down your check “I have to, my marriage is already arranged and it's not like he's giving me a reason to —“ You were cut off by that voice, the voice of the man you were so desperately in love with the voice of the man you wanted to be with more than anything, you so desperately wanted to run into his arms and stay there forever, but they weren’t yours.

“Steve you will never believe the night I just had this dame she was something spec…” He froze when he noticed you, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness “Doll? What are you doing all the way out here?”

His smile turned into a frown when he got a good look at your face, it was obvious what had happened. Bucky slowly took a few steps closer to you, trying to make sure to give you plenty of space because he could tell that you were already on edge.

"Doll, who did this to you?" He asked gently, his eyes slowly roaming over the marks on your skin.

You tool a step back, flinching away from Bucky Your head hung low “I have to go” you said barely above a whisper

Bucky's frown deepened as he watched you take a few more steps back. He wanted to reach out and grab you, pull you into his arms, and never let you go, but he knew that would only make things worse.

"No, you don't" he said firmly, taking a step closer to you. "You aren't going back to your house”

The tears you just finished wiping clean were now streaming freshly down your face again “I have nowhere else to go Buck, I have no one else!” You sadly shouted

Bucky's heart ached when he saw the tears streaming down your face. He closed the distance between you in three large strides and pulled you tightly against him, his arms wrapping around you in a firm but gentle embrace.

"You have me, doll. You will always have me" he said as he gently stroked your hair, trying to soothe you

“Do i?” You whispered your bitter heartache coming to the surface as you pushed him away “Because it feels like every other girls in Brooklyn has you but me”

Bucky froze, his heart clenching at your words. He couldn't deny that he had been with other girls, no, he couldn't deny that every night, he had been out dancing and laughing with another dame on his arm. The look of pain on your face made him hate himself even more for his behaviour. "You do have me y/n, you gotta know that please, id leave them all behind for you."

You scoffed “Well you sure could have fooled me!”

Bucky's heart broke as you spoke. He knew he had messed up, he had gone out and had all these flings hoping that maybe one of these girls would make him forget just how in love with you he is. But they didn't, all it did was hurt you, the one person he never wanted to hurt, and he hated himself for it.

"Doll, please. I—" he cut himself off, he didn't know what to say that would be enough to undo the pain he had caused.

“Just forget it Buck” You wiped your last tear flinching when you grazed your cut from your fathers wedding ring.

You started to walk away before turning around, your voice breaking “Please don't follow me”

Bucky's heart dropped as you turned your back to him and started walking away. Every fibre of his being wanted to go after you, to pull you back into his arms and never let you go, but he knew that you needed space.

He stood there watching as you walked further and further away, his heart aching and his mind racing, he could barely find the words to speak as you told him to stay there. For once in his life Bucky was speechless, frozen.

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 13 - Prompt: Beauty @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 788 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Pandora wasn’t particularly interested in rejoining the group, but she reluctantly followed Lily back through the festival crowd. She also hadn’t realised how far she’d walked away from the food trucks. In her frustrated state, she’d power-walked to the opposite end of the path to where it forked. It wouldn’t have taken her long to get lost in this maze.

“How long will you be in town?” Lily asked.

“Just a few days. I needed to escape my family for a bit.”

“I can relate. You mentioned a brother, right?”

Pandora nodded, then grinned. “Evan. He was pretty annoyed with me for leaving him at home. I can’t say that I feel that bad about it though.”

“Are you close?” Lily slowed her pace as they worked their way past a group of giggling children. They were watching a dramatic retelling of a fairy tale that Pandora didn’t recognise.

“Yes, but mostly because Evan refuses to leave me be.”

Lily laughed and shook her head. “That sounds about right. I have a sister, but she’s exhausting to be around.”

“Older or younger?”

“Older. Her name is Petunia.”

Pandora arched an eyebrow. “Do your parents have a thing for flowers?”

“Mm-hmm, my mum is a florist. She has a shop in town,” Lily said, waving dismissively. “What about you? Sirius mentioned that Regulus lives in London, so is that where you’re from too?”

“Yes. Reg and I live together, actually. We share a flat near Leicester Garden.”

Lily stopped mid-stride and grabbed Pandora’s arm. “Leicester sounds familiar. Oh! Is that the one with a William Shakespeare statue?”

“That’s the one! I dragged Regulus to the Christmas Market in the square before we left. It’s beautiful,” Pandora said, thrilled that Lily was as charmed by the place as she was. “We share with our friend Dorcas from uni.”

“I’m going to move to London someday.”

Pandora’s heart pounded in her chest as she listened to Lily explain her grand plan to save up for a flat and hire on with a florist or garden until she could find work in her field. A sound plan, except her dream job was a little niche for London. There wasn’t a great need for horticulturists in the city.

“I know it’s a long-shot, but I figured that if I could hire on somewhere plant-adjacent, that would be a start. Don’t you think?” Lily said.

“It could work.”

Pandora didn’t want to dash her hopes, especially if it meant that there was a chance for this to go somewhere a little further than this holiday. She hadn’t really expected more from it than a bit of fun, but now that she’d met Lily, that changed. If Lily moved to London, they could date properly.

“Remus thinks I’m ridiculous for wanting to live in London, but I think it’s exciting.”

“Have you ever been?”

Lily linked her fingers together and nodded. “Once when I was younger. I loved the energy of SoHo.”

Pandora was on the cusp of an idea when Regulus burst through the crowd and rushed to her side. He glanced between them, then cleared his throat.

“James said there’s a party at the end. Are you staying?”

“Yes, are you?”

Regulus nodded as a slow grin slid over his face. “James wants to dance. Who am I to deny him a good time?”

“James dances?” Lily asked. “Why didn’t he join in at the club?”

James appeared behind Regulus and hugged him from behind. “Because Regulus won’t dance with me. He doesn’t want everyone staring at him. I tried to tell him that they wouldn’t be, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“If Sirius is dancing? You don’t have to worry about anything. That man is mesmerising to watch and even better to dance with,” Lily said, shimmying her shoulders.

Pandora lost track of the conversation for a moment while she admired the woman in front of her. Lily’s little shimmy was adorable, but the bouncing afterwards…merde.

“You’re drooling, Panda,” Regulus whispered.

She wiped at her chin, then glared at him. “I was not.”

“Well, you were definitely staring.”

“How can I not? Look at her! I’m only human, Reg.”

James chuckled as he rested his chin on Regulus’s head. “You’re both terrible at whispering. I think she heard you.”

Pandora looked up to find Lily’s cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink. A mortified laugh bubbled in her chest, but came out in an awkward giggle. Regulus lost it, shaking with silent laughter as he hid his face in his hands.

That was it. It was all over. Once Regulus started laughing, Pandora couldn’t fight it anymore. Soon, they were all lost to the absurdity of the moment and cackled like hyenas.

Next Part>>>

[connectionterminated13]

Fourth closet AU where Michael and Evan get to exist and be bad guys along With fourth closet Circus baby/Elizabeth.

Michael takes the role as like the bodyguard and the guy who's Job is to do violence. Unlike his siblings Michael genuinely hates their father. He makes a lot of empty threats against William which both of them know Michael will never go through with. He has a similar hate for robot Charlie and her friends. Especially John. He hates John for being a plain boring man who despite that gets to keep his nice soft smooth skin and live a pretty happy life with his girlfriend Well Mike spent to the last like 10 ish years in a basement Being tortured. (I haven't decided if Michael is like possessing Fun time foxy or version of him Or Michael is zombie either or I can't decide :( )

Elizabeth remains pretty much the same except obviously I'm getting rid of the "":stuff"" tied in with fourth closet circus baby. She died in Williams's shitty copy of the fourth Charlie Bot (Built off of William attempting to follow Henry's blueprints) When she was like 6 but she grew up in the suit and is now 18. Her job is pretending to be Charlie and keeping an eye on charlie's friends to make sure they don't find real Charlie/trying to find where real Charlie is before anyone else can. Her only real knowledge of the world outside of the torture basement has been Soap operas that would run on the TV down there every once in a while. That's why she wears the red dress and lots of makeup even though it's so uncharacteristic of Charlie. How Elizabeth thinks real people act. (Note I'm taking out all of the weird stuff like her kissing John and people thirsting after her)

Evan Takes Elizabeth's place as The surgeon medical one. I think he possesses a version of fun time Freddy, And he does like all of the medical stuff on their dad Unlike Elizabeth who knows that William hates her but still tries to be a good daughter anyway and Michael who just hates William and gets hate back. Evans still thinks their dad loves them. And is desperate even more than Elizabeth to prove his worth as like a surgeon and a medical guy. He also feels left out because Evans just a tiny little guy so he can't help his siblings with any murder stuff :(

Just an idea that bounced around in my head. Sorry if this makes no sense I'm tired

[blankfairy]

hello .. i know i just followed but i hope i am invited to the resident evil oc party 👀 i am going to yap under the cut. possible spoilers for my resident evil oc fics but at the same time i think i've already done that on this blog,

my MAIN original character, who i have had for just abought eight years now — though only within the last four years or so was converted for resident evil — is dr. finley "finn" bondevik, who has come SO far from where he once was. made worse, even. as a person of course.

finn is a trans man, born in 1972 in san francisco, the child of a wealthy, well-educated couple... and was slated to be taken by the umbrella corporation and integrated into the wesker project. he was kidnapped when he was just a few months old, but his mother and father put a TON of effort into publicizing his case to bring him back home. umbrella decided to use this as another facet of their experiment (and to polish up their public image) and supported finn's mother and father in their search. lo and behold, finn was 'found.'

as such umbrella has been with finn his ENTIRE life. they made a public thing out of their support, providing him with medical care, education, state-of-the-art prosthetics for his missing leg (congenital amputee), etc... he was clearly a prodigy from a young age and umbrella only uplifted him. they silently encouraged his poor habits when it became clear something was. not right about him (dissecting roadkill, cutting open his arm to 'see what was inside'). and when his mother died when he was eight (influenza) and his father blamed him for it, finn fell harder into the arms of the scientists who had loved and supported him so.

got his ph.d. at fifteen just like birkin, immediately hired by umbrella. of course. placed with a scientist named dr. o'deorain. she was. a poor influence. he picked up smoking from her. after a disagreement about a particular medication/virus/can't think of the word right now, he decided to inject himself in the arm he'd cut open when he was young, hoping it would repair the muscle/nerve damage. it did not. his arm was amputated. the right side of his face was permanently scarred. he blamed it on o'deorain and he never heard from her again. alex wesker saw him in the hospital and he came to see her as his sort of 'case worker.'

finn bounced around between mentors a bit because he's such a reckless, stubborn shithead but found his place with dr. william birkin! they hit it off and so for a few years he was at the arklay facility, then nest. also had a brief relationship with albert wesker, unfortunately for him. and met my partner's oc dimitri vikhrov who's ubcs!

worked on g's uses as a bioweapon at nest. created the g-hunters as well as the revenants. began an illicit relationship with william birkin in 1994, which would later become romantic. got insanely tired of working on g because it was being so difficult for him, while it seemed william was having so much luck,, felt bitter and used and stagnated because will wouldn't listen to his concerns/complaints. this started to come to a head in july 1998.

this period of time is what i'm writing a whole fanfic about but basically: the dichotomy of finn's loyalty to umbrella and his love for william. umbrella treating him as the next in a long line of betrayals: marcus, mentor to william, killed, his research given to will; william, mentor to finn... you know how it goes. their relationship falls apart as finn struggles between the company that raised him, that wants him to be the best he can be, and the man he loves so intensely it may as well just be obsession. in the end, william still ends up half dead. finn injects him with the g-virus, then devil. he lives. their relationship does not. and finn also gets his only good ankle ripped apart by a half-mutated licker.

uhhhh yap yap yap THEY EVENTUALLY DO COME BACK TOGETHER. they're both so awful that they really have no one else to turn to. raccoon trials, they get taken into the custody of simmons, william is a valuable resource for both the g-virus and information... sometime in 2006, after the raid on the spencer mansion, finn discovers he's part of project w and that WILLIAM KNEW (not the full extent. but still). he was supposed to infect him with the prototype virus in '98, but after finding out it was KILLING other subjects, decided not to. but finn has survived worse, hasn't he? they stay together, and finn, in his delusion that after that they can survive anything and should be together forever, steals william's blood and cultivates a version of the g-virus for himself. he infects himself. william is rightly aggrieved. finn doesn't understand. properly delusional!

i don't have a lot monumentally for him after that other than they STILL are together in the 'present,' because sunk cost fallacy and all that. finn aids in research after the dulvey incident. accompanies chris in romania and ends up just. having the worst time ever. but survives. what can you do, y'know?

oh! and sometime in the mid 2010's he finds out... he has a daughter.

that daughter is SAMSA WESKER, who is the biological child of him and albert wesker. there is a whole explanation to how tf he didn't know, but the gist is she was grown in a test tube. infected with the prototype virus in-vitro. successfully adapted and born february 19th, 1991. she was named by her aunt (who i headcanon to be albert's twin), alex, for the samsa family in kafka's metamorphosis.

she was a prodigy, just like her fathers. i like to compare her to an animal taught how to be human, because the t-virus really did fuck up her behavior. she was brought up in laboratories and high-class mansions, sitting at dinner tables with lord oswell spencer, sergei vladmir, and alex. proper manners. proper business. manipulation, perceptive listening skills, etc. still there's still smthn very not right about her and it's easy to see that.

in the early 2000's, after the fall of umbrella i think?? alex introduced her to her father, who took a quick liking to her because he saw her as an extension of himself rather than her own person. she knew this and associated with him anyways. she didn't love him, or anything; she doesn't love anything or anyone, but it was mutually beneficial. she grew up with him and alex, skirting back and forth and placating the dying lord spencer from time to time. i know she sparred a fuck ton with her dad. spent many formative years with alex on seim island and learned how to speak russian.

wesker infected her with uroboros at some point, i think maybe when she was 16-17 or so? because if the virus successfully took to her, infected with the t-virus, it would take to him, too, wouldn't it? we all saw what happened to him in re5 though, so... no. after wesker's death she lived full-time on seim island with alex. came to be known as 'alex wesker's attack dog,' because she was 6'2", muscled, and alex was fond of using her to infect/off anyone who she deemed deserving. for all of samsa's efforts to push alex away from the 'mind transfer' route of immortality, revelations 2 went about the same.

so, trapped on seim island with a bunch of mutated monsters, dying islanders, and her own aunt now freakishly changed into a vindictive, paranoid beast of impulse, samsa went a little crazy!! without a proper food source to keep up with the crazy fast metabolism the t-virus AND uroboros gave her, she became kind of. animalistic. did her best to keep her mind about her — she had a breakthrough about herself as an animal vs as a human, but still held her sanity in high regard. she was like the infected inhabitants who did not attack her, starving, acting on instinct... but she could still think. she was a monster, but not mindless.

then barry burton showed up. and remember that russian guy, dimitri, i mention? he was there too! samsa tried to fool them into thinking she was just an inhabitant (her russian wasn't sharp enough), then a scientist. but they could tell something was. VERY off about her. she proved them right when she used uroboros to save natalia-alex from an infected or something,, was taken into custody by the bsaa when they all got off the island.

i'm not entirely sure what her future holds for her at this moment but she is patient (we are waiting for resident evil 9 to be released). she has this intense curiosity about finn, much to his dismay, and spends a lot of time with the aforementioned dimitri. they have some fun parallels (her, nonhuman taught to be human; him, human taught to be nonhuman).

there's also me attempting to adapt an asoiaf oc to resident evil (who is finn's SON), who would have been created in a similar way to samsa, only instead somehow ... sold as an embryo to mother miranda ... and infected with the mold ... ? i'm not entirely sure yet but he's a ghostly boy who has haunting visions of the past and future and can possess humans and animals alike. could be fun as an addition to the lords. so desperate for attention and love, latching on to miranda... but he's not as 'gross' as moreau so she's like. damn. alright. i guess you can do some grunt work around my lab and keep an eye on the villagers for me.

if taken in by the bsaa post village, would probably end up manipulated by his half-sister like in asoiaf all the same. it's fine though. he's happy as long as he's being afforded attention in some way or another.

anywaysss that's it!! thank you for letting me yap... i need to think about my re girlies more because i just love them so much...

hello everyone im a curious little fella today, and today i want to see you all yap about your resident evil ocs. give me the LORE!!! give me the DESCRIPTIONS!!!! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!!!! i love hearing abt peoples ocs and i am an oc x canon enthusiast. go nuts, i will listen to every detail :3

[paulasamuels]

What a very strange day this has been! We left Paris this morning, departing by train from the Gare St. Lazare and arriving about 1.75 hours later in Rouen. Managing 2 electronic rail passes in a web-based app with spotty internet access proved challenging, but thank goodness for screen shots of our ticket QR codes, which satisfied the SNCF agents who made their way through the train, checking tickets along the way.

The plan was to store our luggage at a Bounce location in Rouen, having already spent about $30 for the convenience of being bag-free for 4 hours. The Bounce location was closed, which left us toodling about town for 4 hours with luggage in tow (no refund yet, but I'm working on that). We had a nice lunch at Dame Cakes Salon de The', but even that required carrying our bags up a flight of steep, narrow stairs to our table. A lunch of tea with savory cakes was great, though, so all was forgiven. We visited 2 fantastic churches, took some nice photos, I had Gelato, and at last we boarded our train for Caen.

Let me start by saying that I had concerns from the start about renting a car in a moderate-sized city, but ultimately decided to do it because of proximity to the train station. My concerns were legitimate. I rented the car via Uber, which partnered with local company Sixt, who tried to sell me overpriced insurance, despite the fact that Uber provides insurance with its rentals. Finally, after sorting out the details, we were given our key and a poorly designed map to go find the car. We walked a good distance, part of it uphill, only to realize we had missed the rental car lot and had to turn around and walk back to a pothole-filled lot where we finally found the car. We inspected the car, took pictures of a couple of scratches, and were finally ready to leave, but I couldn't figure out how to get the manual transmission into reverse. Thank God for Google, where we found the answer (lift up on the little ring at the top of the boot covering the gear shift) and were on our way. While I'm expressing gratitude, let me also give a shoutout to the built-in GPS in our rental Peugeot. Without it, we might still be driving around Caen trying to find the disc golf course needed to keep William's weekly playing streak alive. After 9 holes of disc golf at the park, GPS routed us from Caen to our hotel in Bayeux.

The first thing I did when we checked in to our Bayeux hotel room was konk my head on the square edge of a hanging rack. No blood, but yikes that hurt!

The day ended on a positive note, though. We had a great dinner at a brasserie next door to the hotel, consuming an amount of wine commensurate with the challenging nature of our day. I thanked & congratulated William for maintaining his composure and sense of humor throughout the frustrations of this day. This is how you know when you've found a great travel partner, someone who can laugh at the bizarre inconveniences of traveling independently and keep plugging away, ready for the next adventure.

[savannahsdeath]

Masc Ellie with veryyyy fem reader😍 reader has been begging to co ellies eyeliner for a week and Ellie finally caves and says yes, so reader like straddles her to do it then they fuck after bc Ellie gets turned on

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! smut, strap (r!receiving), praising, sliight crying

writers note: writing this was so fun omg !! i need to write more of doing ellies makeup✍️✍️

"stop moving!" you frowned, the opened eyeliner probably already dry, since you've been trying to do it for good dozens of minutes now.

ellie was sitting on the edge of the bed and you placed yourself on her lap, wrapping your legs around hers. you kept shifting as the rough fabric of her jeans was starting to disturb you. sometimes you could even feel her strap, waiting for you beneath her boxers. you had no idea why would she wear it in such a random moment, though she'd jokingly explain it with a; 'i'm telling you, it's attached to my body.'

"you're the one moving all the time!" she laughed, gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"whatever." you mumbled, knowing she's right. "now, don't blink."

your lips parted in pure focus and your hips raised to match her eye level, as you brushed her skin, leaving a thin black string on her lash line. she mumbled a curse under her breath, stroking circles on your thighs to reassure herself.

"so cute." you cupped her chin and slightly pulled away to take a look at her face. you still didn't finish, but you already managed to do a lot, what was a success considering ellie's hate for makeup. only on her, of course - she loved watching you do your sweet, feminine routine, but she refused to believe she'd look good in all that.

you leaned down, pressing your hips back to her crotch and giving her a peck on her nose bridge. one of your hands, the one that was holding her jaw and the eyeliner at once, almost draw a thick line on her cheek as ellie surprisingly bent down, connecting your lips in a slow, sloppy kiss.

you giggled, pulling her away. "m' not finished!"

you were getting ready to continue, when you felt her knee bouncing, making your whole body move too. you let out a light mewl, forcefully grabbing her head in order to ignore her movement and finish what you started. but you couldn't. you watched your hand shake, and you didn't want to risk drawing on her actual eye, because eyeliner isn't really made on eye, though ellie probably thought so.

"stop moving." you ordered, trying to sound stern while pressing your hips even further down, hoping to pin her legs down.

it worked, but you had to pay a price too. now you were in a really awkward situation, feeling your dress settle down around your body, making only your thin panties separate your pussy from her jeans. your body slightly trembled and you slid closer to ellie's face, the friction making you gulp.

"what's wrong, doll?" she asked in a worried, concerned tone, which was probably faker than your forced reassurance;

"nothing."

you took a deep breath and your lips parted again, as you finished her makeup by doing the eyeliner in one swift movement. you put it aside, on the nightstand, before grabbing ellie's face and scanning it again. she huffed in annoyance, holding onto your waist. you'd probably lose your balance by now if it wasn't for her.

"something is missing." you frowned, stroking her cheeks with your thumbs.

"i didn't agree to anything else." she quickly announced, praying it's the end of your little operations.

your breath hitched as you got ready to explain yourself. "but els-"

"no." she sternly said, before laughing and stroking your hair. "you should see yourself right now."

you ignored her taunting, licking your thumb and gently wiping away the black dots you made while accidentally bumping the eyeliner onto her face.

she made a playfully disgusted face. "so.. unhygienic."

your chuckle got cut off by her knee bouncing again, making you only murmur a nervous; "shut up."

"watch your mouth, sweetheart." she advised with a knowing look, making you freeze and your eyes widen.

"m' sorry, els." you shrugged, rubbing off the last little line on her cheek.

her hands moved from your hair to your neck, holding you down on her lap. "you should be. you just spent an hour on torturing me."

you shifted, trying to escape her hold, but it only made your cunt grind harder against her lap. "i'll make it up to you." you whined, not really having any ideas how to.

"make it worth my while." you watched as one of her hands left your neck to brush away your hair from your peripheral vision. she gave you a clear idea of how can you atone to her, no more questions were needed.

as you honored her with a kiss, your hips raised, making your whole body weight lean on your knees. your mouth moved rather slowly, compared to your usual quick action. you gave ellie some space, so she was able to roll her jeans down, before you fell back on her lap. the wet patch on your panties was most definitely palpable on her thigh, as it was growing each second.

you hestitated, thinking wether you should pull away or not, finally doing so but only to catch your breath. you enjoyed the ability to breathe only for a second, before someone's strong hands brought you back into a warm embrace. she always managed to get you so worked up, not making today an exception, as her tongue swirling around yours made your head spin.

her strap kept nudging your clit from time to time, making you let out a muffled gasp everytime. suddenly, the fabric covering it disappeared, resulting in your surprised moan. you had no idea how could ellie do everything so smoothly, but you admired that about her.

soon, nothing was between your soaked cunt and her strap anymore. she firmly held your hips, using the grip she had on you to slowly lower you down on her cock. the sudden stretch caused you to groan, though the wetness of your cunt made each centimeter easier. you babbled out her name and she soothed you with a praise and gentle kiss on your forehead.

you took your time to adjust on her lap and she helped your vision to sharpen, wiping away the tears you didn't even know were there. you immediately noticed the admiration in her eyes, as she kept on praising you in a proud whisper; "taking me so well— my pretty girl." you smiled back, not only because of her words, but also because of the view of her gaze decorated with eyeliner. a wave of love washed over you, making you reach closer to her so that you were able to press a kiss onto her lips.

you took a deep breath before you were finally able to move, and so you did, feeling her thick strap sliding higher and higher, reaching your sensitive spot. ellie kept her hands on your sides, using her strength to help you move. she listened to each little whimper you let out against her lips while bouncing on her strap. even in your tired state, you insisted on letting her know how much you love her, so with a lazy smile you started whining; "always wanna be— always wanna be your good girl. love makin' you— ah, proud."

these words, even though they were being broken up by chords of moans, made ellie's smirk turn into an affectionate smile. "i'm always proud of you." she muttered, looking at your half lidded eyes.

you only nodded, the silicone pushing so far into your cunt that you couldn't manage anything more. your girlfriend slightly pushed her own hips up, making your job easier as you started to grow more and more tired. "love— you, els." you added, preceding her answer with a sloppy kiss, during witch you reached your high. she stopped moving as soon as she noticed you shaking and whimpering, knowing you're not able to take more. she hugged you to her chest, making quiet hushing noises. your blissed out smile made her lightly chuckle, as she gave you a minute to calm down. she raised you up and guided you to lay down beside her, as she proudly stared at her strap, which almost completely changed it's color to white from the coat of your juices.

[ethicalvinyls]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐲.       e. williams

modern au musician Ellie x thick latina fem!oc 

word count: 4.3k 

summary: Ellie williams plays in a band with Dina and Jesse. this night, she performs at a venue in her city and finds a cute girl to look at--Gabriela De Leon. After the show, they chat... 

warnings: not verbal, but mentions of racism. that’s about it. 

a/n: as a latina, representation MATTERS. so i wrote something i rarely see on tumblr.

I also wanted to mention that while I am not Mexican (I'm Salvadoran), 99% of my friends were Mexican. I grew up with my Mexican buddies and I learned a lot about their culture, the language that is most def different than my salvi spanish, and the different towns, cities, pueblos. :)

Popping your head into the main stage before a performance should be illegal. It stirs excitement in some performers, but to me, it ties my organs into a knot and shoves them right up my throat. I have been doing this for the past three shows now–but I regret it more each time; and Dina hisses at me each time. But it’s a habit I can’t shake, like someone biting their nails or shaking their leg, or scratching their neck. I need to know how many people are in the room (even though I’m still small and my band only receives attention because they’re attractive), and who I should stare at when I’m singing.

I take back the last thing I said–we’re good. Our band doesn’t get this much of a crowd because we’re attractive. We gain bigger and bigger crowds because we’re actually good. At least that’s what I tell myself.

I play the guitar–both electric and acoustic– and I sing, Jesse is on drums, and Dina plays the piano and does back-up vocals. I would add a fourth, but I don’t know anyone else. I’m shy, and a nervous wreck when it comes to meeting new people, so I stick to the same two people I have stuck by since high school. Plus, they’re good enough for me.

“Stop peeking!” Dina reprimands, slapping my arm so it falls to my side. “You’re going to drive yourself crazy and you won’t be able to perform.”

I huff. “I’m not going to drive myself crazy and I’ll put on a hell of a performance.  I do it all the time, don’t I?”

“We’ve only played two shows,” Jesse says. “You keep peeking and you’re going to end up throwing up instead of singing.”

“Shut the hell up,” I say. I peek again and take another look at the faces crowded around one another. It’s a small venue, but it’s packed, nonetheless. People know about us because we’ve stamped posters all over the city and released music with shitty music videos and have opened for small indie bands. People also follow me on Instagram, where I try my best to make people like me; make it seem like I’m not some introverted loser who spends most of her time locked up in her room writing and recording music. I am a different person online, and because of that, people love me. “There’s more people than before.”

Dina stands next to me and looks around as well. She doesn’t care if people see her, she actually enjoys that some people treat her like a celebrity. She might as well be with her big smile and nice hair and cool style. She’s the beauty and the brains people love looking at.

“No shit,” she whispers. She gasps at the sight of something, and I bounce back from her eyes to the girl she’s looking at. “I know her! She’s in my American Literature class. She’s so smart.”

I take a look at the girl. Her brown skin is shining beneath the dim lighting that flashes pink, then yellow, then green–it’s as if she allowed the sun to nurse her, paint her a darker and sleeker shade of brown. Her eyes are green and yellow, meshed into the color of the sun, like it didn’t only bathe her skin. Her cheeks grow wider when she smiles, and she stares diligently at her friend when she speaks.

The girl has on a shirt that looks more like a bra, but maybe doesn’t function as one, either. Her breasts are slightly spilling out but nothing else is seen. I scan the bottom half of her body and try to shut my mouth as best as possible. She moves around a little, shimmying to the music that fails to drown out the sea of voices. She wears a skirt but with each slight turn, I catch a vast expanse of skin that trails under the jean fabric.

“Try not to drool, I think they just mopped the floors,” Dina says.

I blindly slap her arm because I am beyond concentrated to break away from the beautiful girl. She has a lot to grab onto, I think, but I shut my eyes and tell myself that’s perverted. I’ve yet to meet her, to know if she likes girls– to know if she likes me– and I’m already thinking about what her skin would feel like in my hands.

“If you wrote a song about loving thick girls, so many people would come running to you,” Dina says. “You write about girls but most of the women in your dm’s never fit your type.”

I laugh. “Oh yeah? And what’s my type?”

“Latina’s you so cannot handle,” she laughs. “Gabby is very independent, she has this intense feminine aura and you can’t forget she’s fucking hot. Not only was this girl blessed with one of the biggest asses I’ve seen, but look at her rack!”

“Gabby,” I whisper, ecstatic that I have a name to add to her face.

“Yeah. Gabriela De Leon. She’s from Guadalajara, Mexico. Moved to Cali when she was nine, moved to Vegas for college,” Dina whispers. I turn to her, eyebrows scrunched and my mind throwing questions at me to ask, like how in the hell does Dina know this. She purses her lips. “I was put in a group with her a couple weeks ago. She told me her life story after I told her my sad one.”

“And what’d she think?” I ask. “About your life.”

“It wasn’t sad enough.”

“What?” I spit.

“Joking. She’s an angel. She gave me a hug and said I could talk to her if I ever needed to.”

I nod. “Cool. Coolcoolcool. Cool.” I move away from the wall and grab my guitar that sits next to the wrinkly couch and pull it over my head. The strap remains nestled on my shoulder and I nurse the body of the guitar in my hands. I drag my fingers down the thickness of the guitar and tap the very end. “I shouldn’t have looked,” I groan. “Fuck me. Now I’m worried I’ll fuck up.”

Dina walks over to me and lays her head on my right shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she says with one hand rubbing my bicep. “Just stare at Gabby’s boobs and you’ll be okay.”

I drop my head and try not to imagine her skin spilling out of her top. “That’ll just make me fuck up even more. Plus, I don’t even think she likes girls.”

Dina cackles. “Jess, she thinks she isn’t gay,” she says to Jesse. “Oh hun, she is a raging lesbian. Man-hating, woman-loving, boob-loving, guitar player-loving lesbian. When she sees you up there her panties are going to fall on the floor and crawl over to you.”

I wince. “That panty part is scary. But it’d be interesting to know what they look like.”

Dina hugs me tight and kisses my temple. “You’ll be great. We’ll be great,” she exclaims. “So let’s get up there and rock everyone’s panties off!”

I take a seat on a bright orange stool and pull my guitar onto my chest. I look around the crowded room to catch another look at all of the faces. A lot of girls. Pretty girls that  look like they spent hours on their makeup. And then I see Gabby, who stands closer now, close to the invisible barricade. She’s no longer speaking to her friend, but she is staring back at me. She smiles, and I smile back. I try to speak to her with my eyes, but I cannot even speak in general, so I tear my eyes away from her and look at my guitar instead. I trail my fingertips down the strings, down the grooves in the wood from all of the banging against my desk, and the plug that is already jammed into my guitar.

I pull the microphone down a notch and clear my throat. I look up at the crowd that smiles and I nod. “Do I sound alright to you guys?” I ask.

Everyone cheers.

“Great. So before we start, I want to introduce myself and my wonderful band.” I slightly turn around and carry the microphone with me. I’m no longer surprised that I don’t stutter when I’m on stage. Or sweat through my clothes from anxiety. I’m somehow used to this after all of the stages I’ve been on since my freshman year of college. “First of all, my name is Ellie. I just turned twenty-one a couple months ago, so if anyone wants to treat me to a drink, you sure can. I’m a junior in college and… to everyone’s surprise, I am not a music major. I’ll let you guys guess.”

I stand up from my stool and walk around the chords, trying not to trip. I walk over to Dina and wrap my hand around her waist, pulling her in. She laughs and shoves me off. “This is Dina. She’s the youngest–just turned twenty! She’s a smart one. She graduated high school early and excelled in maths, so if you need help with your math homework, visit her after the show.”

And finally, I stumble over to Jesse. “Anddd Jesse. This one is the oldest. Twenty-three and ready to mingle, ladies.”

I return to my stool and strum all chords, getting ready to absolutely kill my fingers. I pull the mic down again and look over the crowd, resting on Gabby as I say, “If you’re a pretty girl, sing along, and I hope you enjoy the show.”

“I need a drink,” I mutter as I set my guitar onto its stand and grab a new water bottle from the minifridge. I gargle half of it down even though I drank an entire bottle onstage.

“You should go out there. It’ll be on me, just tell the bartender,” Dina says.

I nod and quickly tear off my flannel. I walk around backstage and find the bar in a second. I sit down at a stool and the bartender quickly makes way towards me. He asks what I want, and I say, “Whiskey… on the rocks or whatever that is.” He nods and doesn’t care if I sound like a child ordering something alcoholic. I know little to nothing about alcohol except for the fact that if you have too much, it turns you into a drunken mess, and you wake up with a sick hangover the next day. You can also have the most amazing sex, but that might be a lie.

The bartender returns with a glass and I instantly down it, returning it to him and watching him make another. I shouldn’t be drinking tonight, but I did have one of the best shows ever. Gabby knew all of my songs, she danced and twirled and I got to see her ass failing to remain in her jean skirt.

A new cup of whiskey is placed in front of me and I hear someone giggle beside me. I turn to find Gabby hovering over me and the chair directly next to me. I pull it back and she quickly takes a seat. “That’s a grandpa drink for someone who just turned twenty-one.”

Gabby has an accent, which doesn’t surprise me. Dina mentioned she immigrated to California from Guadalajara, Mexico when she was nine. She looks to be twenty, maybe twenty-one.

I shrug. “I was raised by a grandpa, so maybe that means something.”

She chuckles. “I understand. I was drinking with my family by the time I was fifteen, so straight tequila in a glass doesn’t hurt anymore.”

I laugh but on the inside I’m slightly alarmed. “And how does that work? Were you not supervised?”

“Oh no, I was. It’s common in Mexican culture for people to start drinking at a young age. Many Mexican parents would rather you drink with them than with people you don’t completely trust, or haven’t known for a long time. At least that’s the case for me and some of my friends,” she says.

I nod. “I was worried for a second.”

She leans into me and gently shoves my shoulder. “I take you never drunk with your old man?”

“Not until I was nineteen,” I reply. “He knew I would drink but it wasn’t until I was nineteen that we finally shared our first drink together.”

Gabby hums. “Good to know.” I nod. She glances around the room–at the bartender, who heard her say she’s been drinking since she was fifteen, and at the new set of people shuffling in for the DJ that's performing later. She then looks back at me and smiles. “You know Dina.”

I nod. “We’re in a band together.”

Her cheeks turn cherry red and she shrinks. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I know but I didn’t know-know that you were best friends. Sort of thought you hired her. She never speaks about you during American Lit–not even the band.”

I shrug. I know Dina separates singing and playing for my small band from the rest of her life. She believes playing in a band is different than anything else she has done, and wants to keep the rest of her cheerful duties apart. I don’t blame her for it, it’s her choice.

“I don’t mind her being quiet about it,” I say. “And I didn’t hire her, she’s just been my friend since high school and I begged her to play in a band with me. But…” I dig my nails into my neck to keep the nervousness at bay, but it fails. I feel like a jerk for making her blush and shrink down into her seat. “I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. I promise I’m not, I just don’t know how to make conversation off the stage. I’m actually a nervous wreck right now.”

Gabby raises an eyebrow at me and lowers it when she sees something on my face. She leans in and I swallow down the bile threatening to spill out of me. Her chest is close to my face and I try not to say or do anything. She wipes my forehead with a napkin that magically appeared in her hand, and sits back down into her chair.

“I can tell,” she says. “But it’s alright, I’m not judging you. Don’t be a nervous wreck.”

“Easier said than done,” I murmur.

“I wouldn’t take you as the nervous person when speaking to girls. Sort of thought you’d be bold, confident. Not scared of judgment. But it does feel good to know you get just as nervous as other people–like me.”

I scoff. “You’re nervous right now?”

It’s hard to believe her thoughts racing just like mine are right now. She leaned towards me, removed the sheen of sweat coating my forehead, therefore she must have smelled me just like I’d done; and during that, her nerves were wrapping around her throat and choking her. Maybe she’s the type to tuck away her anxiety and flirt with whoever’s on her mind.

She nods. She holds out her hands, trying to steady them. They shake about but she forms them into fists before I can sandwich them between my hands. She places her hands between her thighs and smiles up at me as if she isn’t dying in front of me. “I don’t usually talk to people, I’m the friend who stays in. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you perform.”

“And talk to me,” I add.

“Yeah,” she says, shining her bright smile at me. She has nice teeth: strikingly white, teeth aligned as if she had braces, but crooked enough to know that she never had them. A few imperfections scatter across her cheeks, but nothing about it pushes me away. “My friend told me to come talk to you. She said I’ll never know what you’re like unless I talk to you. And I’ve wanted to know what you’re like since… well since you started making music.”

I tuck my lips into my mouth to hide my smile, but as I say, “A loyal fan, thank you,” it spills over and pulls my lips up to my hairline.

“I heard you went to my university, and when I checked you out I sort of fell in love with all of your songs. And you wrote them all, too,” she rants, telling me about how amazed she is that I wrote all of my music, especially since many musicians don’t do that anymore. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but sometimes you can tell, you know? Because imagine if… Snoop Dogg was writing music for Phoebe Bridgers. Would never happen but imagine how strange that would sound. She was made to write sad music for sad bitches.”

I cackle. I down the rest of my drink and push it aside. The bartender casts me a look, non-verbally asking if I want another round, but I shake my head. If Gabby won’t drink–or can’t, in this case, now that the bartender knows her secret–I won’t, either.

I swivel my body so she gains my full attention and say, “If Snoop Dogg wrote music for me I’d end up trying to rap it while playing the acoustic guitar and end up with a mess. I’m thankful he doesn’t even know who I am nor would want to write music for me.”

“I think you’re a great writer,” she says, in a tone of voice that has my entire body sweating through my clothes. Venues are typically hot, scorching at times, but right now it’s freezing. Therefore I can’t blame it on the room, only myself and my scorching nerves. She’s only complimenting me and I’m already melting. I sarcastically roll my eyes. She places a hand on my thigh. “I’m serious! You make me cry all the time.”

My hands resting on the bar counter itch to touch her, and if I don’t, I might thrash my head against the dressing room wall once she leaves. So, I slowly place my right hand over the one that rests on my clothed skin. “I don’t try to make people cry. Especially pretty girls. Unless we’re in a completely different setting.”

Her cheeks fill with crimson blood and she drops her head, forcing her long black hair into her face. I lower my head to her level and smirk at the way my words affected her. “What?” I whisper. “What’d I say?”

She lifts her head and runs her tongue along her teeth. “You’re…” She pauses. Then groans. “The word left my brain. I want to say that you’re a good flirt. I know what you meant when you said you only want to make girls cry in a different setting.”

“Dina tells me you take American Lit and are a complete genius in it. I knew you could piece little context clues together.”

Her hand rubs along my thigh and my knee, pulling my hand along with her. She rubs her thumb along my knee and I feel my boxers become damp. “AM Lit is more so about the history of literature, about authors and race and identity. But to understand whatever the hell they talk about in the 1800’s, you have to be good with context clues and figurative language, so I take your compliment.”

“You’re a smart girl,” I tell her.

“I have to be,” she answers.

My eyebrows slam into one another and my face falls into a look of confusion. “What do you mean?” I ask her.

“I’m a Mexican  immigrant,” she begins. “My parents and I crossed the border eleven years ago for a better life. I was put into English school immediately so I could catch up with everything I lacked in Mexico and by the time I was eleven, I knew enough English to help my parents with paperwork, with translating, with paying bills and all the things an eleven year old shouldn’t have been worrying about. If I didn’t know something, I was dumb, because how is it that I went to school in America but I didn’t know what eleven times twelve was. So I worked my ass off–I had to be a genius, because I fought hard to be here, to become an American citizen. Being stupid was no option.”

I remove my hand from hers and instead sandwich her hands between mine. “I don’t know what to say,” I tell her. “I didn’t have to worry about anything as much as you did, but I do find you fearless now that I know your story. I feel bad that you couldn’t have a long childhood but… I do think you ended up pretty fucking awesome.”

She chuckles. “I’m sorry for dropping all of that information about me. I don’t blame you for not knowing what to say. I probably should have answered a little differently.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I just suck at responding to life stories so I’m trying to express that I am sorry for you having to go through that and I’m sorry that I can’t relate to you–”

“No, no, no it’s okay. I am beyond happy that you can’t relate. It means you had time to be a child. I’m grateful for my hardworking parents and the chance to live here but I wouldn’t wish my rough childhood on anyone. I wish I didn’t have to translate and fill out paperwork and essentially be my parents-parents,” she says with a laugh at the end. “Trust me, you are happy you can’t relate.”

“Okay,” I whisper. A wave of silence washes over us and we both must feel someone staring at us, because we turn our heads and look at the bartender glaring at us. His eyebrows are caving into the tip of his nose by how furrowed they are, and he’s frozen in place. “What?” I shout.

“Ellie,” Gabby hisses, grasping my cheek and pulling me away from the man. She laughs when she looks at me, and I slowly double over, clasping my mouth to get the noise to go back into my stomach. “Oh my god,” she laughs, “He probably heard me trauma-dumping and– Oh that’s embarrassing.”

I slowly pull away and sit up with a steady face and no ounce of a laugh rumbling in my stomach. “I don’t care, old dudes bring their sugar babies here and say the crudest shit ever. But now that someone is talking about their pretty fuckin’ interesting story, they wanna give people an onset stare. Not even a bit of a side eye thing, just staring us straight down. What a jerk.”

She rubs my thigh and leans in. She props her arm beside her head and sets the side of her face on her hand. “People give me looks like that all the time.”

“Well now that I know you, let me know when someone is being a racist asshole and I’ll fuck them up for you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t need your help, Ellie Williams. I have had my own back since I was a kid. But if I do run into any issues, I’ll text you.”

“Even if you don’t need me to fight anyone, you can text me.”

She grins, showing her perfect teeth. She nods and pulls her hand off her face, instead reaching over to me and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Her fingertips linger on my ear, and then run over my shoulders and chin. She places the pad of her thumb on my bottom lip and stares at my mouth like she might just bite my lips off. “We haven’t had a conversation for long but I do already want to kiss you.”

“Have you been wanting to since I started making music?” I ask, to be funny, but we don’t laugh, we just stare at one another’s mouths.

She shrugs. “When I started listening to your music I was talking to someone. But they ended up being a homophobic asshole who turned me 100% gay. And then you came out with your sad album in October and you looked very sexy in your heartbreak-pink suit and I kind of wanted to kiss the frown off your face.”

I begin leaning into her. I grab the bottom of her stool and pull her in. A sound between a yelp and a ‘no’ draws out of her mouth but I don’t fully pay attention. She now places her hands on my chest and I push her hair out of her face.

She slaps my shoulders and says, “Do not do that!”

“Do what?”

“Pull me in!”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she whispers.

I scoff. “How would you hurt me?”

She swallows the rock lodged in her throat and looks to the bartender, then back at me. “I’m too heavy. I’ll like… pull your arm out of your socket.”

I roll my eyes and plant my lips on hers. I kiss her softly. “My arm is fine,” I say between plush kisses. “And you’re not too heavy. If I thought I couldn’t, I wouldn’t have pulled you in.”

“Ellie…” she draws out. “Still…”

I hush her and pull away. I comb her curled hair away again and smile at her perfectly red cheeks and lips. “Have I told you that I don’t care if you complain about your weight affecting me?”

“Hm?”

“I’d die in your fucking thighs if I could. You could crush me and I’d say thank you. So enough about you hurting me with your body,” I say. “I want you to hurt me.”

“So I’m your type?” she asks seductively.

“Fuck yes,” I hoarsely breathe out, and slam my lips back onto hers.

[mollybecameanengineer]

Incubo

Summary: The week before Scully goes on maternity leave, she and Mulder head to New Jersey to investigate a series of suspicious deaths. However, neither of them could have predicted how personal it would become.

word count: 7686 | Teen | MSR | @today-in-fic

Read on AO3 or check out the first chapter below the break

This is part of an episodic series called A Second Chance. All the episodes are collected, in order, using AO3’s series feature. The concept of the series is to rewrite seasons 8 and 9. It deals with Mulder’s return from the dead, the birth of William, and Mulder and Scully trying to juggle family life with impending doom.

If you don’t want to read the whole thing, but want to read this story, here is what you need to know…

Previously on A Second Chance: Mulder has returned to the living. Scully is pregnant with what she believes to be their child, but Mulder has doubts. However, he has publicly acknowledged the child. Mulder and Scully are now living together. Since he was declared dead, Mulder had to be re-hired by the FBI, rather than having a job to come back to. Reyes has been partnered with Doggett since This Is Not Happening.

Chapter 1

Today was Mulder’s first day back at the FBI – and it wasn’t going well. 

He and Scully had gone back and forth about him starting before or after the baby was born. But after the debacle with the oil rig, he wanted his badge back. When he’d received his official offer, he filled out the paperwork and requested to start as soon as possible, though it meant he’d have to take unpaid leave when the baby came.

But now that he was sitting at his desk (or Scully’s desk, he wasn’t sure who had ownership at this point), trying to log on to the computer so he could do hours of mandatory trainings, he questioned why he had been in such a hurry. 

Glaring at the screen, he tried again: 

username: fmulder 

password: tru5tn015cully 

The computer told him, yet again, that his username and password weren’t recognized. 

If it had been just him and Scully in the office, he would have been cursing and possibly kicking the trash can by now. But with Doggett and Reyes quietly typing away at their desks, he felt like he had to restrain himself. 

Scully came over and started looking through the file cabinet. She was wearing loose pants, a sweater, and flat dress shoes – all concessions to being 36 weeks pregnant. Whenever she was near, he wanted to reach out and touch her, caress her stomach. He didn’t understand why this was – before he had been abducted, he’d liked to touch her. But now it felt like more of a compulsion. He chalked it up to evolution. He was trying to possess or protect his mate, or some such crap. 

Again, he wished Doggett and Reyes would get out of his office, so he could hold her.

“Why aren’t you doing those trainings?” Scully asked, glancing at his computer screen. 

“The stupid thing won’t let me log on.”

Scully came over and leaned against the desk. She looked uncomfortable. It was probably a good thing this was her last week at work, before maternity leave. Mulder didn’t relish the idea of weeks in the office without her, though she thought it might give him a chance to bond with Reyes and Doggett. 

Maybe he could convince Skinner that four of them in this office was two too many. Though maybe he should also lay low, because his boss had done some fancy finagling to get a fourth agent assigned to the X-FIles. 

Scully looked at his computer, then down at his onboarding paperwork. “That isn’t your username anymore.” She pointed to the paper. There, clear as day, it said his email was fwmulder@fbi.gov.

“They changed my email?” 

Reyes spun around in her chair. Evidently she’d been listening. (All the more reason to get the interlopers out of their office.) “I just sent you an email. It’s fmulder, right?” 

“It was,” Mulder replied.

“It didn’t bounce back. Let me check the directory.” Reyes turned back to her computer, while Mulder typed in the new username. This time it worked, he was in. He started up Outlook, and waited for the emails to load. 

Scully had gone back to her rummaging (he wondered what she was looking for). He was half watching her, half looking at Outlook, when Reyes spoke again. “Um, Agent Mulder? I think you have a problem.” 

For a moment he thought she was talking about his staring at Scully, but then he saw she was still looking at her computer. 

“What is it?” Scully asked, walking over to Reyes.

“There’s two Fox Mulders.” 

Mulder joined them. Sure enough, in the directory, there was him, with his picture from 1986 and fmulder email, and then him again, with the picture he took this morning, and his new fwmulder email. 

Scully looked up at him, smirking. “What do you think? Doppelgangers? Alien Bounty Hunters?”

Doggett spun around in his chair. “Well, whichever Mulder you are, I think we have a case.”

-----

Doggett and Reyes had left for New Jersey several hours ago, leaving Scully and Mulder (who was still doing trainings) behind. They had asked Mulder if he wanted to come along, but he’d declined. Scully wasn’t surprised. A man had shot himself in the head – it didn’t seem like an X-File.

“Six down, two to go, Scully,” Mulder said, making a show of closing the window on his computer. 

She gave him a fake smile and a thumbs up. He’d been announcing stuff like this ever since Doggett and Reyes left. 

He seemed more himself once they were gone. She understood that Mulder was protective of their space, but at some point he was going to have to accept that the X-Files wasn’t just them anymore. Scully viewed the inclusion of Reyes and Doggett as a good thing, particularly with the baby on the way. She didn’t know how else she and Mulder could keep the X-Files open. 

“Hey Scully,” Mulder called to her, already clicking through his next training. “Did you know that the videos that aren’t mine that used to be here is a type of sexual harassment?”

She looked up. “Yes. You didn’t?” 

He shook his head. 

Scully was surprised. “You actually thought it was appropriate that they were here?”

“Well, no, I guess not. I never thought about it.”

Scully sighed. For an intelligent man, he was oblivious sometimes. 

“Did you feel harassed?” Mulder asked, seeming genuinely concerned. 

Scully considered his question. At the time, eight years ago, she hadn’t felt harassed by the porn. She had thought of it more as a concession to being in a male dominated field. She had been much more bothered when her co-workers tried to touch her or called her ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart.’ Or the hundreds of ways they excluded or belittled her. A little porn had been low on her list of grievances. 

But that didn’t mean that she had been totally comfortable with its presence. 

She tried to distill her complex thoughts. “I thought it was unprofessional, but I wasn’t offended.”

Mulder, looking appeased, turned back to his computer. “Actually,” he said, scrolling, “we do a lot of the things on this list.”

“It’s only harassment if it’s unwelcome.” 

He playfully leered at her. “Oh, so you welcome my,” he turned back to the computer, “aggressively asking you out on dates?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, you’ve never asked me out on a date, aggressively or not.”

He stood, and came over to where she was sitting. He leaned down, invading her personal space. “Well, maybe I thought you’d think it was harassing…”

“Why don’t you try and find out?”

Her lips were on his before he could respond. Though it was wildly inappropriate for them to be making out at work, Scully figured some light fooling around couldn’t hurt anything. Mulder had just started kissing her neck when they were interrupted by the phone. 

“Scully, I’m pretty sure that was sexual harassment, but I’m not sure who was harassing whom,” he said, as he returned to his desk to answer the phone. “Mulder.” He paused, then said, “Hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker.” Mulder pushed a button, hung up the phone, and said, “Ok, go ahead.”

Doggett’s voice came through the phone. “Like I was saying, this body is pretty weird. The ME can’t make heads or tails of how a man was shot in the head but there isn’t any sign of a firearm being used.”

Scully stood, and joined Mulder. “You mean there isn’t any powder residue?”

“Not just that,” Doggett replied. “There’s an entry wound, but no exit. Yet the ME couldn’t find a bullet.”

Scully exchanged a look with Mulder. “That is odd.”

“That’s what we were thinking. Look I don’t know if you can, but getting your insight on this one would be a real benefit, Agent Scully.”

“Can you send the body here?” Mulder asked.

“It probably won’t get here before I go out on leave,” Scully cut in before Doggett could reply. “It’s only a four hour drive to New Jersey. We can leave after my doctor’s appointment this afternoon.”

“We’d really appreciate it,” Doggett said. 

Mulder shrugged. “If you think you can make the trip.”

Scully nodded and after making arrangements with Doggett, Mulder hung up the phone.

“This reminds me of that man from Nevada–”

“Crump,” Mulder interrupted. “Mr. Crump. Do you think the military is testing those radio waves again?”

Scully shrugged. It was possible. Though if they were, she hoped it ended better than last time.

Keep reading on AO3

[dunkzillla]

A Place to Call Home (3/4)

It’s finally here! This mammoth of a chapter took a couple of weeks because it’s a. mammoth sized and b. I’ve had some personal stuff going on. but it’s here and it’s long so grab your snacks and drinks and settle in! This is dedicated to @whorehausen and @shes-a-voodoo-child because without them this wouldn’t be finished. thank you for your endless support, and well, being pretty much the only two reading this self indulgent little thing.

Title: A Place to Call Home

Pairings: Bryan Danielson/Nigel McGuinness, Bryan Danielson/William Regal, Bryan Danielson/Jon Moxley/Claudio Castagnoli/Wheeler Yuta

Ratings/Warnings: Mature, Language, Sex

Summary: “I wouldn’t stop you, prinzli. I just hope you know what you’re doing. You remember what it used to be like, yes?” “Yeah. They were the happiest years of my life.”

Word Count: 14,288

Parts: ONE | TWO

AO3

The love that I was giving you was never in doubt. — Babylon, David Gray

X

They don’t talk about what happened when they got back from the pub the next morning. Bryan wants to, but he can’t seem to make the words come out of his mouth. He wants to ask Nigel why he put himself into the situation of sleeping with that woman and Bryan if he wasn’t into women. He wants to know what Nigel meant when he put his hands in his beard and said he had a cute little chin. Nigel always used to make fun of his hair, or lack of it when he shaved it, saying that he looked like a British skinhead and did he want his bomber jacket and a pair of docs to complete the look?

Half the time Bryan shaved his hair just to piss Nigel off, to have him keep picking fun at him because at least it kept his attention on him whenever it threatened to wander elsewhere. It was ironic that in their last months together, Nigel had shaved his hair and Bryan’s was grown out. Bryan guesses it started the shift in them, Nigel losing himself as he got tangled up in injuries and illnesses in TNA, and Bryan found himself being bounced around by WWE and the independent circuit.

He’s not about to shave his head to get a rise out of Nigel, but he does wonder what it would do.

Over the next couple of days they fall into an easy routine. Bryan gets up, has coffee in the garden before starting on making Nigel breakfast. Bryan keeps wearing Nigel’s robe, and relishes in how Nigel always comes down the stairs wearing only his shorts, with messy hair and sleepy eyes, thanking Bryan for coffee and breakfast and they enjoy it together, sitting at the table and talking about things they used to do, some of the matches Bryan’s had since they’ve been apart.

Then Nigel goes away to work, and Bryan cleans up breakfast and then tries to find things to do while Nigel’s not there. He goes for runs, explores the shops, he even plants a few things in Nigel’s garden, even though he’s hoping that when it’s finally time to ask Nigel to come home, it won’t be Nigel’s garden anymore.

He cooks dinner when Nigel gets back from work, and then they sit watching old matches together, shooting on all the dumb stuff they and other people did.

On Friday afternoon Nigel comes back a few hours early, says he always does on a Friday, and he sets his laptop bag down and comes into the garden where Bryan’s organising Nigel’s disaster of a shed.

“How do you feel about going away for a few days?”

Bryan feels his heart sink a little bit. “You have someone coming over?”

Nigel looks at him confused before shaking his head, “No you bloody idiot, how do you feel about us going away for the weekend. I want to take you somewhere.”

Oh. Oh well that’s. That’s something.

“You want to take me somewhere? Where?”

“That’s a secret. You just gotta’ say you’ll come with me.”

Anywhere, Bryan wants to say. I’ll come with you anywhere. But that’s — so he doesn’t, he just smiles and says,

“You’re not going to kidnap me and murder me, are you? Get me out of your hair?”

“Course not, I’ve had more than enough chances to do that, don’t need to take you away to murder you, Dragon. How many people know you’re here?”

Bryan wipes his dusty hands on his sweats, looking up at Nigel and squinting as the afternoon sun starts to dip behind the house. “None.”

“None? You didn’t tell anyone you were coming here?”

“Well. Doug knows, because I asked him for your information. And any of the other people I asked for your information could hazard a guess if someone asked them but. I just came straight here. Regal asked me the other day but I��� didn’t tell him where I was.” Bryan explains, and he does feel bad about that, because Regal might start worrying about him if he doesn’t get back to him. He just doesn’t want anyone to know where he is yet. He doesn’t need them trying to get involved. Claudio knows the complexities of his and Nigel’s relationship better than most, having spent the most of his ROH time around them, Mox has always said they’re no good for each other, and poor Yuta hasn’t ever had to deal with the level of messed up Bryan is over Nigel, and he might not understand.

“Well aren’t you just full of surprises? Come on, get inside and clean up. I wanna miss the rush hour traffic.”

Bryan shuts the shed door. “We’re going now?”

“Yeah. I have work Monday, want to make the most of the weekend. That is unless you’re going back to the States.”

“No, I haven’t made any plans to go back yet.” And he’s not going to, not until he’s convinced Nigel to come back with him.

“Then pack your bag, Dragon. And make sure you put my robe in there, yeah?”

Bryan doesn’t blush, because he’s a grown man, but he does feel his body warm at the indirect call out.

“It’s mine now. You gave it to me.”

“Yeah, cos’ you were being a bloody idiot and sitting out in the cold without anything on. I didn’t give it to you to keep.”

“Well that was your mistake wasn't it, should have just let me be cold.”

“Now why would I ever do that?” Nigel says, and he puts his arm around Bryan’s shoulder and walks him back to the house and through the kitchen.

“Because apparently we’re not friends and you don’t like me?” Bryan deadpans.

Nigel stiffens a little bit beside him, and Bryan seizes the opportunity to wrap his hand in the tie around Nigel’s neck, pulling them closer together.

“I’ve changed my mind, I am going to murder you and dispose of the body where nobody will ever find you.” Nigel says, but his voice has dropped quieter, and he’s looking down at Bryan, looking at his mouth as she swipes a tongue over his lips.

“You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. You couldn’t even leave me knocked out in the ring, you got back in and made sure I didn’t freak out. You took me to the hospital and waited with me. You could try and kill me and leave my body somewhere, but you’d come back and get me, you’d revive me.” And Bryan says it like it’s an accusation and a fact all at once.

Something passes over Nigel’s face, and he clenches and unclenches his jaw. He could easily step away, he could easily get out of the hold Bryan has on his tie, but he doesn’t.

“Admit it.”

“Admit what, Bryan?”

“That we’re friends. That we’re more than friends, and we always have been. Admit that we’ve always been something more.”

Nigel’s hands come up, they turn up the collar of his white shirt, and then they tug the loop of the tie over his head, leaving it still tied in Bryan’s hands.

“Hurry up, I want to beat the traffic.” Is all he says before he’s turning and taking the stairs two steps at a time.

Bryan watches him go, and for a moment he just holds the tie in his hands and watches the empty staircase. Nigel’s always been good at pulling away at the last minute, at building and building the tension until he would just leave you high and dry at the last moment. It’s okay, Bryan can deal with that, he’s had fourteen years of not having it, of building his Nigel-centric patience back up. So he’ll deal with it for now, he’ll slowly work him down, just like he used to in the ring. He can out wrestle Nigel and he can also out whit him when it comes to emotions and feelings.

Bryan goes into his room, keeping the tie and stuffing it to the bottom of his bag, because if Nigel didn’t want him to have it then he shouldn’t have left it in his hands, and packs his clothes on top of it. Nigel said they were going for the weekend so he doesn’t need much, not that he has much anyway, but he also doesn’t know where they’re going, so he packs most of it so that he’s not caught out.

He can’t think of where Nigel wants to take him, why he wants to take him at all. But then Bryan doesn’t know the UK very well and Nigel’s always been unpredictable, so he shouldn’t be surprised at all.

He meets Nigel back downstairs, who’s putting his laptop away in a locked cupboard, his duffel bag sitting on the couch.

“You ready Dragon?”

“Ready,” Bryan confirms. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“Nah,” Nigel says as he picks up his bag. “You’ll know when we get there.”

Nigel ushers him out of the door and Bryan tries to think what this is all about, what any of this could mean. They’ve kind of been on road trips together before, if you count all the riding together for wrestling, and that time they got lost, but they’ve never done it for the sole purpose of just going somewhere. Nigel’s never taken him anywhere but the hospital and Waffle House.

They get in Nigel’s car, Bryan’s rental sat in the same space on the road that it was the day he got here, unused and unneeded.

It’s a quiet journey for the most part, there isn’t much traffic on the roads like Nigel was hoping for, and the sun is just starting to set, casting everything in warm yellow tones. Nigel puts the car stereo on half an hour in, playing all the same music he always used to in his beat up little car, Oasis and Blur and other British groups that Bryan doesn’t remember the name of. Some of them are familiar and Bryan’s foot taps along with them, feeling like they’re on their way to the next ROH show, getting ready to fight each other for a belt or for the right to fight for a belt.

An hour in, Bryan looks out of the window to see a sign that says, Welcome to Blackpool. And he turns his head to Nigel, who’s got a smile playing on his face like he was waiting for Bryan to see that sign and realise where they were going.

“This is where you’re taking me? To Blackpool?”

“Well, you are part of the Blackpool Combat Club, and I couldn’t remember if you’d ever wrestled here, and seeing as you know, it’s literally your club's name and it’s not far from home, I thought I’d bring you.”

Bryan has wrestled here, just once. “James Mason, 2008. I lost.” He says remembering instantly. He hadn’t stayed for very long, Regal had hoped to be there but had been caught up with something, so Bryan had left the next day. He doesn’t remember much of it, just that it was in the ballroom at the big tower they have, and he’d been bored and lonely without Colt, Sal or Nigel around. He’d have even taken Eddie Kingston, if only for a familiar face to have been with him in a strange place.

“Really? Blimey.”

“You?”

“No, actually. Which feels weird now I know you have. You come here with Regal much?”

Bryan shakes his head. “He wanted to be here for that match, but he couldn’t make it. I don’t think I’ve ever been here outside of that.”

“What about the others?”

Bryan thinks about it. He can’t be certain, because he barely remembers all of the matches he’s had, let alone anyone else, but nothing jumps out at him. “I don’t know. I don’t think so? I don’t think I’ve ever heard Mox or Claudio mention it, and I doubt Yuta has.”

Nigel huffs out a laugh and turns down the stereo as they park up. “The Blackpool Combat Club and only one of its current members has ever wrestled in Blackpool, bloody typical.”

Bryan shrugs, he guesses it’s kind of weird, but it was an homage to the place Regal billed himself from, rather than a place special to all of them.

They’re on the seafront, and Bryan stares out the window at the view in front of him. The sea is crashing against the shore, frothy white foam reaching high up the beach before retreating. There’s lights strung up high on every single streetlight, wrapped around railings and twinkling along the pier in the distance.

“So what’s the big plan?” Bryan asks, and Nigel just grins.

“Find a place to stay. Have a look around.

Maybe we could catch a show.”

“Find a place — you mean we don’t already have a place? What if there isn’t one?” Bryan says, and he quickly gets out of the car when Nigel does too.

“It’s March in Blackpool, there’ll be somewhere. Though hopefully Regal didn’t spoil you too much while he was around, might have to slum it in a two or three star hotel.” The grin on Nigel’s face is a mile wide, like this is the funniest thing in the world. And Bryan doesn’t care what star rating the hotel has, he just cares that there is a hotel to stay in. They might not be far from Nigel’s place in the grand scheme of things, but Nigel is clearly up to something.

“You’re infuriating, Nigel.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Yeah, here he is indeed.

He follows Nigel up onto the sidewalk, the two of them walking side by side along the long strip. There aren’t too many people around, but it has dropped dark now, and the lights make everything look pretty and festive.

It’s pretty cold, and Bryan wishes he’d maybe brought a hat or something to keep his head warm. Nigel doesn’t seem bothered, which is weird, because normally it’s the other way around, with Nigel always cold and Bryan barely feeling it. It’s why he has his robe, after all.

They walk for a while before Nigel nudges him to cross the road, towards a little bed and breakfast place that has a wooden sign in the window that says Vacancies.

He follows him inside, instantly feeling the warmth of the place hit him in the face when he steps through the door. It smells like wood and furniture polish, and home cooked food that makes Bryan a little bit hungry. It’s a nice enough place, a little old fashioned, more to Regal’s taste than Bryan’s but it will do on short notice. Nigel goes up to the front desk and Bryan hangs around by the staircase. There’s picture frames lining the walls, all of them with a picture and a description of the picture underneath inside. They’re little pieces of history, and Bryan reads through them, trying to file them all away so that he can tell Regal about them later and watch his face light up as he does so. Regal hasn’t had much to be happy about lately.

“Anything interesting?” Nigel comes up behind him, a room key in his hand. And it’s an actual key, with a piece of string and a big thick piece of card tied on to it, the number written in scruffy black marker pen.

“Blackpool has the oldest amusement park ride in all of Europe.” Bryan recites, pointing at the picture of an old ride in black and white on the wall. It’s just a tall structure with spaceships on the end of wires, so when it spins, they fly.

“If I’d have known that I wouldn’t have gone on it.”

“Maybe you should do some reading up on the places you visit before you visit them.” Bryan jabs, and Nigel just rolls his eyes at him, pushing him towards the stairs.

Their room is on the top floor, and it’s a bit of a work out to get to it, the stairs are steep and twisting, but he guesses that’s normal for a place that is as old as this looks.

The first thing that strikes Bryan when Nigel opens the door is that the bed has hideous frilly, floral bed covers on and looks like his grandma picked them out in 1934. Then belatedly, as he’s about to say how hideous the covers are, he realises that it’s, that there’s only one bed.

“Before you say anything, this is all they had. And I didn’t think you’d appreciate leaving and finding anything else.” Nigel says before Bryan can say anything, dumping his bag on the bed and immediately going over to the window to look out at the view.

Bryan thinks about asking why they wouldn’t just look for something else, he wouldn’t have minded, but he doesn’t, because Nigel made this decision and he’s not about to argue about sharing a bed with him.

“Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Bryan says, putting his bag next to Nigel’s on the bed. He finds the bathroom, and when he switches the light on he finds that everything — the toilet, the bath and shower, the sink and the tiles — is pink. An old fashioned shade of floral pink, with gold accents that have seen better days. It’s the most hideous old fashioned bathroom Bryan has ever seen, but it’s clean and he supposes that that’s the main thing.

“I feel like I’ve stepped into the 1940s.” Nigel says behind him, and he hadn’t heard him coming up behind him and he jumps a little.

“It’s old fashioned but better than some of the stuff we used to end up in back in the day. Remember when that cockroach—“

“Do not bring up the cockroach on my face. I’ve blocked it out.”

“It was literally about to crawl in your mouth—“

“Dragon I swear to god we’re not talking about it, I have blocked it out.”

Bryan grins, because he hasn’t blocked it out, not at all, the memory of Nigel waking up in a panic slapping his face over and over again as he all but screamed about something crawling on him is one Bryan won’t ever forget. Not the way Nigel sat shaking afterwards in the shitty little chair next to the window refusing to go back to bed.

“Fine, we won’t talk about that.”

“The things we used to deal with. Bet it’s paid for 5 star hotels now, ain't it Dragon?”

“I mean it’s not 5 stars, but it’s paid for. Tony takes care of everything. Though, there’s nostalgia in the shittier hotels, don’t you think?”

“For you, maybe. I never got the luxury of paid expenses. I had to work at a grocery store while at TNA.”

“What?”

“When I wasn’t getting used and when I had the Hep I wasn’t getting paid, Bryan. Think I could survive without another job?”

“No I just — I didn’t know that.”

“You were lucky. WWE found you something to do when you had to retire,” Nigel says, and he’s looking out of the window and not at Bryan as he talks. “When I found out that you were forced to retire, I kept wondering what you were going to do. Surely your success couldn’t dwindle the same way mine did? Of course, it didn’t. I remember feeling relieved and angry all at the same time.”

“Nigel…”

“I am glad you got cleared again. There’s not a lot better in the world to me than watching Bryan Danielson at the top of his game.”

“You could get cleared again. You could be at the top of your game too, Nigel.”

“We should go and find some food, you’re talking rubbish.”

“I’m serious Nigel.”

“And so am I. We’ve had this conversation already, I have no business being this old and broken and getting back in the ring.” Nigel says, and he scoops the room key back up ushers Bryan back out of the room.

“And anyway, that head doc of yours. Sampson. He’s the bloody arsehole who wouldn’t clear me back in 2009. He certainly wouldn’t clear me now.”

“He was?”

“Mhm. There was nothing wrong with me back then, I got multiple letters from my doctor that my arm was fine, didn’t need surgery, and he still wouldn’t clear me. I’m nearly fifty now, I’m not in any better shape.”

“He cleared me to come to AEW and I’d argue I’m in worse shape than you.”

“You are in worse shape than me, you bloody lunatic. I’ve had twelve years without taking kicks to the head. You’ve never really stopped, have you? I have no idea how he cleared you. Or why. But he has.”

They make it back out onto the seafront, and this time it’s much busier, with people walking in big groups around them, little kids zig zagging through their legs and screaming in delight.

“I think you probably are in better shape. You proved in TNA you didn’t need the bicep surgery. You came back from Hep B. And you’ve clearly been taking care of yourself since then, you’ve had time to heal. You’ve got more chances of being cleared than you did back then.”

The way that Nigel doesn’t respond right away with a comment to shut him down, and instead keeps his eyes looking forward with a haunted look on his face shows Bryan that slowly he’s cracking that defence Nigel’s had up about returning to wrestling ever since he retired.

“How about Italian for dinner? That place looks nice.” Nigel changes the subject and points to a restaurant on the corner of a street up ahead.

Inside it’s not particularly busy, and they get seated right at the back in their corner, so they’re graced with obscurity and privacy that they luckily didn’t have to ask for.

They eat nice food and talk about wrestling matters that don’t involve Nigel making a comeback, and when they’re both stuffed full they take a walk across the beach. Bryan can feel the sand getting into his shoes, and it’s cold, but the lights are all lit up and there’s music playing somewhere and it’s nice. It’s different and it’s nice and he’s with Nigel. That’s what really makes it.

When Bryan’s got enough sand in his shoes to start his own beach, they head over to a convenience store on the corner of the street and buy snacks just like they always used to. Nigel was always hungry back when he was wrestling, and they always had to make sure there were chips, sweets and chocolate on them at all times. Old habits die hard, Bryan guesses.

Back at the bed and breakfast they both lay out on the bed sharing a bag of chips, watching a weird British game show that Nigel gets annoyed at and shouts you bloody idiots at all the contestants who get questions wrong. It’s nice to just lay next to Nigel and not have to think about anything. Not have to think about work, or Regal and the BCC, or winning and losing titles. To listen to Nigel shouting the answer to the question at the TV screen like they’re going to be able to hear him and give the host the right answer. But it makes him want to roll over and punch him right in the face, too. Because if Nigel had just lied, if he’d not told the WWE about that bicep injury they’d have cleared him, and they’d have wrestled there together, Nigel would have been woven into his story in the most wonderful and infuriating way. They wouldn’t be here now, Nigel a car salesman and Bryan a wrestler just looking for his heart to finally come home. Bryan wouldn’t be here figuring out how to get Nigel to come home. They’d probably both be scrapping it out in the ring and on the mics in AEW and ROH, just like they always have. Like they always should have been.

When he’s ready to turn in, Bryan doesn’t bother getting his sleep pants out of his bag, he simply strips down to his boxers and folds his clothes up before slipping under the covers. Nigel tries to make it look like he’s not watching as he scrolls on his phone, but Bryan can feel his eyes on him the whole time.

Nigel stays up longer than Bryan, though he switches the TV off and scrolls on his phone without making any noise. Eventually he does the same as Bryan and strips down and gets into the bed. It’s been over a decade since they shared a bed, but Nigel still smells the same, still makes Bryan’s heart flutter like he’s twenty four and crazy for him.

Bryan gets a few hours sleep before he’s woken up by his phone blaring on the bedside table. He scrambles to find it in his bleary state, and Nigel rouses beside him, their feet tangled together as he gets the phone and answers it without even looking at the caller ID that’s so bright it feels like it would have blinded him anyway.

“Hello?” Bryan says, untangling his feet from Nigel and getting out of the bed. He goes into the bathroom so he doesn’t wake Nigel up anymore than he already has.

“Honigbienli, tell me why I have just heard the international dial tone when calling you?”

Claudio.

“Uh,” Bryan says dumbly as he sits down on the closed toilet lid, tucking his feet up so they don’t get cold on the tiles. “Because I’m… not at home.”

“Then where are you? William has been calling us telling us he can’t get hold of you. That you haven’t been at your place since the pay per view. I have texted you a dozen times. You have fallen off the face of the earth!”

Bryan winces a little bit, hearing both the anger and concern in Claudio’s voice. He should have responded to them all. It’s not like he hasn’t had the time, he’s had all the time in the world while waiting for Nigel to come back from work, but he just hasn't. He hasn’t wanted anyone to know where he is, to tell him what he’s doing is stupid. And with everything they’ve been going through, maybe he’d forgotten that they’d still be worried about him if they didn’t hear from him.

“I’m in Blackpool.”

“Blackpool?!”

“I was in Liverpool, but I just got into Blackpool a little while ago.”

“Bryan what are you — is this what you meant when you said you were ‘going home?’ Are you trying to… find yourself?”

“No, no I’m — well. Yes. It is about home, but it’s not — I’m not trying to find myself. I’m, I’m with Nigel.”

“Nigel… Oh goodness… You found him?”

Bryan scratches the top of his foot and rests his chin on his knee. “He wasn’t that hard to find once I looked in the right place.”

“Prinzli, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to get him to come home.”

There is silence at the end of the line, and Bryan almost checks to see whether Claudio has ended the call before he hears a soft sigh.

“And how is that going?”

“I don’t know. I think I’m doing alright. I’ll do what it takes, for as long as it takes.”

“You’ve been without him for so long, Bryan. I thought that was a healed wound.”

“It was never a wound. He has never been a wound. He’s been… something special that I left behind when I moved house and thought I’d never get back but I have a chance to and now I want to make sure I come home with it. That he comes home where he belongs.”

“I never thought we would be here again, talking about Nigel McGuinness.”

“Yeah, me neither. But I need this, Claudio. I don’t think I’ve really been me for a long time. To be me I need him to come home. Please let me do this.”

“I wouldn’t stop you, prinzli. I just hope you know what you’re doing. You remember what it used to be like, yes?”

“Yeah. They were the happiest years of my life.”

Claudio sighs softly, and he hears him moving around. “I would never. The American Dragon doesn’t let anything get in between him and Nigel McGuinness. I learnt that a long time ago.” He says, and Bryan wants to protest because he did. He let his own path to success leave Nigel behind. But he doesn’t. Because what’s the point? It’s all happened. He can’t change it.

“Make sure you call William, or just let him know you’re okay. Mox has threatened to change all our numbers if he calls us again.”

“I will. How are they? Mox and Yuta?”

“Good, they’re good. They were worried about you, of course. They’ll be happy to know you’re okay.”

“Good. Tell them I miss them, and that I love them.”

“I will, but you should call them too. Especially Yuta. He’s trying his hardest not to get ‘all in his feelings’ as you say, but he would like things to go back to normal.”

“I will, I will I promise I’ll get everything sorted out. I just need to do this.”

“Okay. I will let you go, it must be late there?”

“Yeah. Middle of the night or something. Nigel’s gonna’ hate that you woke him up.”

“Sharing a room?”

Bryan feels his cheeks warm, feels far too old to be blushing but he can’t stop it. “Maybe.”

“It feels like 2007 all over again. Be careful, prinzli. And good luck.”

“Thank you Claudio. I love you.”

“I love you too, Bryan.”

The line drops, and Bryan pulls the phone away from his ear again to lock it. His ear is warm and a little sweaty from holding the phone against it, and he rubs at it with the palm of his hand. He washes his hands just because he’s been in the bathroom and touched the lid of the toilet seat before he steps back into the bedroom. Nigel is wrapped up in the blankets, having pulled them all on him while Bryan was in the bathroom. He’s always been a blanket hog.

“Who the fuck was that?” Nigel mumbles sleepily when Bryan gets back into the bed, turning to face him and actually letting him have some of the blankets back. Nigel never used to let him have the blankets back.

“Claudio. He didn’t know I was here so he didn’t know it was the middle of the night.”

“Castagnoli. Should have known. Nothing but a worry wart.”

“A what?”

“A worry wart. Always worrying. You tell him you’re here?”

“Yeah. Regal called them because he hadn’t heard back from me, so I’ll have to tell him tomorrow too.”

“As long as it doesn’t put you in a mood, I don’t want to be dragging a grumpy Dragon around all day.”

“I’ll just text him. By the time we wake up they’ll be asleep anyway.”

“Mmhm.”

Nigel’s already falling back to sleep, and Bryan slides down further into the covers. He wants to reach out and touch Nigel’s cheek. To feel the age lines across his skin, to feel that scar above his eye, to run his hands through his hair that hasn’t been spiked or bleached in years. But he doesn’t. Because he doesn’t have any more nerve than he did back then. Maybe less, actually, because back then, when they were under the covers and Nigel would kiss him out of the blue before going to sleep, Bryan had the nerve to kiss back, to lean into him as they slept. He doesn’t have the nerve to touch him now. But back then he didn’t have the nerve to bring it up in the morning, to talk about why Nigel kissed him, why it never led to anything. Now he’s been confronting Nigel, trying to get him to admit to them always being more than friends. Maybe he does have the nerve, just a different kind.

Bryan watches Nigel until he falls asleep, hoping and praying that he can convince Nigel to come home soon.

++

Breakfast is kind of a sorry affair, at least for Bryan anyway. They don’t have any vegetarian or vegan options, beside dry toast and fruit, because there’s no dairy free milk for the cereal or dairy free butter for toast or meat free options on the English breakfast. Which. Fine. It’s whatever. He makes do with some runny jam on the now cold toast while Nigel happily scarfs down his sausages, bacon and egg.

It’s still early when they head out, and thankfully it’s a pretty nice day, not particularly warm but the sun is shining bright in the sky and it makes everything just feel so much nicer.

They make their way along the seafront, reading all of the plaques and signs which talk about the history of Blackpool and significant events. Bryan takes a couple of pictures and sends them to Regal, with a very brief explanation of I’m in Blackpool with Nigel. Call soon. Hoping that it’s enough to tide him over until Bryan can sit down and talk to him properly. The message gets read but he doesn’t get a response, so it must be.

They pay the admission fee into the amusement park, which is rather weirdly called ‘Blackpool Pleasure Beach’, like it’s some sort of weird sex beach even though it’s not actually on the beach or about sex at all. They don’t go on any of the rides, because neither of them care for roller coasters, but they find the one that is mentioned at the B&B in the frame, looking up at it and watching it as it spins, kids sitting in the little spaceships and screaming in delight. They watch the log flume soak it’s passengers, and Bryan questions the safety and structural integrity of the coaster that has a 213ft peak and looks like it’s one big gust of wind away from falling down.

They get coffee and Bryan lets himself have one of the donuts Nigel buys even though they’re covered in sugar, greasy with oil and definitely aren’t vegetarian or vegan. He lets himself go sometimes, and now is definitely the time he’s allowed.

They check out the tower after lunch, and Bryan realises it hasn’t really changed since he was here over a decade ago. It’s busier this time, a good crowd of tourists in front of them in the queue to get in, and this time he’s got Nigel with him rather than being on his own.

He feels a bit sick when they get to the top, because the glass floor shows nothing but the drop below them, and it’s a long way down and he doesn’t know if he trusts how thick the floor is to hold all of them that are standing on it. There’s a kid who keeps jumping up and down like nothing about what he’s doing scares him and Nigel pulls him as far away from the child as possible. Not that it would make any difference, but still.

It’s late afternoon by the time they come out of the tower, and they have another coffee sitting in one of the little sheltered benches watching a group of kids making sandcastles.

There’s a mom with two kids next to them, and they’re happily eating their ice creams until the little girl’s scoop drops off of her cone and onto the floor. She immediately starts crying, and the mom starts to fluster, trying to get her brother to share his cone with her, because she can’t leave them to get another one, and she can’t drag a screaming child, a child eating an ice cream and push a stroller all the way back to the ice cream shop. Bryan is about to offer to go for her, when Nigel just gets up and disappears.

When he comes back, he’s got a small tub of ice cream in one hand, and the other curled into a fist, concealing something. The mom thanks him profusely as the little girl stops crying, and she scrambles around for her purse which Nigel tells her to put away. The little girl is beaming from ear to ear, thanking him sweetly for the ice cream, and Nigel gets down on his hunches and from behind her ear, he ‘finds’ a thick coin, Bryan’s not good with British currency so he doesn’t know how much it’s worth, but her eyes light up at the magic trick. Not to leave her brother out, who’s been staring at Nigel the whole interaction, he finds a coin behind his ear, too, grinning when he gets wow! That’s so cool! From the kid with ice cream all around his mouth.

The kids demand another magic trick, so Nigel, who actually carries a deck of cards on him at all times apparently, shows them a few card tricks, entertaining them long enough for their mom to feed and change the baby, and Bryan can see how grateful she is that Nigel is performing an impromptu magic show for her children. Bryan watches with a small smile on his face, like he used to when he’d stand in the back watching Nigel wrestle. Watching Nigel is always an experience, but there’s something about watching Nigel do something he loves, watching him perform that is so beautiful. Nigel doing magic is similar to Nigel wrestling, you can see it in his face how much he loves it, you can see his brain working behind his eyes as he thinks about his next move, his next trick, what he’s going to say to pop you for what he’s just done. The kids ask for the next trick over and over again, and Nigel has so many that Bryan can’t even keep up.

The sun has started to set by the time the children’s mom finally manages to wrangle them away from Nigel, but not before he produces candy from behind their ear as they’re leaving. They squeal with delight, showing their mom the little candies in their hands as they walk away, and Nigel sits himself back down on the bench next to Bryan.

“You’ve never, ever found candy behind my ear.” Bryan says, smiling out towards the sea. The coffee in his hand is cold now, but he still holds it against his chest.

Nigel’s hand snakes out and strokes through his beard, and before Bryan can even react, he’s holding up a piece of candy, and the smile on his face is blinding.

“Not quite your ear, but impressive, yeah?”

“God, you’re so—“

“Magical?”

“Annoying.”

Nigel’s still grinning, and he doesn’t even give Bryan the piece of candy, he just tucks it back into his pocket.

“That was nice, what you did just then.” Bryan says quietly.

“I’m a nice person, Bryan.”

Bryan goes to argue immediately, and wants to say that no, Nigel isn’t a nice person. Nigel locked him in a store cupboard, knocked him out, spat on him, bit him, disappeared from his life and left him suffering for over a decade without him. But just because all of that is true doesn’t mean that Nigel isn’t also a nice person. Nigel who helped him up when he knocked him out, who took him to the hospital, who offered to drive him to be there for the birth of his nephew.

“Yeah, I guess you are sometimes.” He admits quietly.

They sit in silence for a moment before Nigel nudges Bryan’s knee with his own. “Let’s get something to eat.”

They end up getting fish and chips, and Bryan has to remember that chips are fries here, and not chips like back home. He doesn’t have the fish, instead opting for the veggie burger they offer, and they take them actually onto the beach, sitting down on the dry sand at the top near the wall.

They’re pretty nice, if not a little greasy, and the burgers quite spicy which is nice, and sitting arm to arm with Nigel as they eat is even nicer. It’s dark now, but everything is illuminated by the lights running along the seafront, and the clear night sky means that the moon is reflecting on the ocean, and it’s beautiful. He feels at peace here, and Bryan realises Claudio might have been onto something when he asked if he was in Blackpool to find himself. He knows he’s not finding himself here, but maybe it’s something akin to it. He’s finding something here. He realises he hasn’t properly stopped in a while, stopped and appreciated himself, his family, his life. It’s been go go go since he joined AEW, even when he was sidelined for that little while to be on the safe side with his head, he was training, he was keeping up with everything he could so he didn’t get left behind. He’s been chasing the title and chasing the top spot right from the very beginning, and after losing to MJF, he knew he had to change things, knew he had to go back to the drawing board if he wanted to keep doing this. And that plan had been getting Nigel back into wrestling, somehow. Because no matter what he does, Nigel being there means Bryan is better. Bryan is always at his best when Nigel is around, and that was the whole reason for coming here, or at least to Liverpool to find him. Because Bryan wants to be the best and he needs Nigel there with him.

But maybe this has more than opened his eyes to how good just stopping for a while can be. He’s enjoyed these few days with Nigel, not thinking of work much at all. Maybe he needs to do this more often. Maybe now he knows why Claudio sets aside time when he can to play Uno with Breeze, Creed and Cole, why Mox still drives his truck out to forests and wooded areas to go for a run where he can completely be alone, why Yuta sits and plays his steel pan for hours, learning new rhythms until he’s memorised them. Maybe Bryan needs to just stop more, focus on his garden again like he has in the past. Maybe Nigel could help him.

Maybe, if he can get Nigel to come home, Nigel could do a lot of things with him.

They finish their food and Bryan gets up to walk over to the trash can to throw away their rubbish before sitting back next to Nigel. There’s sand in his shoes again, and it’s all over the backs of his legs but he doesn’t really care, because he’s pressed against Nigel, and he can feel his warmth, smell his cologne.

It feels a bit like when it was just them in the car on the way to the next show, when they didn’t bum a lift off Colt, or Sal wasn’t jumping into the back at the last minute begging for a ride, or Nigel offering Roddy the back seat without consulting him. It’s just the two of them, no one else around them, just the expanse of the sand and sea, the moon above and the cold snap of the wind around them as the waves crash against the shoreline.

“Headlock takeover.” Nigel says suddenly, quiet, and laughing a little.

“What?”

“You said the other day, about how people took little parts of me and made them their own. But that kid, MJF, he told that other guy, what’s his name… Darby. He told Darby he could beat him with a headlock takeover. And he pretty much did. You remember the two out of three falls match, you did nothing but put me in a headlock for the first twenty minutes of the match. He was taking little bits of you, in that one.”

Bryan has to admit, he doesn’t remember that between MJF and Darby, but it sounds like something that Max would say. And that he would do. He also doesn’t remember a hell of a lot of the two out of three falls match either, but he does remember the headlocks, and how much he knew it was pissing Nigel off.

“Yeah but I didn’t beat you with it.”

“No, but you could have. You got the first fall. A regular match you would have won.”

“You only took that pin because it was that type of match, you’d have kicked out if it was a regular match.”

Nigel huffs, “And how’d you know that, eh?”

“Because I know you. And every other match we’ve had. Takes me a lot more than that to beat you.”

“Doesn’t take you a lot, Dragon. You beat me more than I beat you.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? We’ve had about forty matches in total, give or take, and about thirteen of those were one on one singles. I took you to a time limit draw on two occasions. So out of the remaining eleven matches, I only beat you three times, so you’re up by eight to three.”

Huh. Bryan didn’t know that. All the different matches he’s had with Nigel have all melded together, he remembers bleeding and being in pain in most of them, but he can’t remember all of them or who won or lost which. He just remembers moments, like the ending of that two out of three falls match, the blood at Unified. The blood in their last match. There were tag matches too, he can remember those. Especially the ones in which he got to tag with Nigel, they were always the best. He loved wrestling Nigel, getting to tear and claw at him, but he loved wrestling with Nigel too. They were a good team, and he remembers teaming up with him to take on Naomichi Marafuji and Takeshi Morishima, both of them wanting to prove they were good enough to pin the champ and get a shot at Morishima’s World title. Which, if he remembers rightly, Nigel got the pin that night. And he went on to beat Morishima for the title, which Bryan ruined the celebration by coming out to him and trying to pick a fight.

Of course he tried to pick a fight. If anyone was going to fight Nigel for the title it was going to be him—

Bryan suddenly feels an arm behind his back, and then it’s around his neck, Nigel catching him in a headlock.

“You think I’ve got it in me to get my score up to make us even, Dragon?” Nigel says, and like he’s not missed a day in the ring, he wrestles Bryan down onto the sand, and Bryan can feel it grazing his hands as he scrambles to push himself off, can feel it getting in every single crack and crevice of his clothes and body, but he can also feel the electricity of Nigel touching him, of Nigel wrestling him. It’s not in the ring, and it’s just a headlock, but it feels like everything slots into place, like that tiny piece of the puzzle that you dropped on the floor and could never find just magically slots in, and the whole picture is complete.

Bryan grips at Nigel’s arm, still just as strong as it ever was, even if it’s not as big, and he tries his hardest to wrench himself out of the hold, but with the sand he can’t get his footing, sneakers in the sand is not the same as boots in the ring. It takes a little bit of tussling before Bryan finally manages to flip them over, slipping out of the headlock. He pushes Nigel down onto the sand, gripping his wrists and pinning them down.

“It’s like riding a bike. You never forget how to do it.” Bryan says, and he’s straddling Nigel’s waist now, sitting triumphant on top of him.

“Maybe you never forget how to do it, but you can get too old too.”

“You’re not. You’re just making excuses.”

“You really are still an insufferable little brat, aren't you?”

And Bryan feels that all over his body, always felt it when Nigel called him an annoying little brat, always wanted to kiss him or punch him, do something to show just how much of a brat he could be but he never did. He never had the nerve.

Bryan leans down and kisses him before he can talk himself out of it, or before Nigel can push him off.

The minute his lips touch Nigel’s, for the first time in over a decade, Bryan feels like a firework goes off inside him, lighting up every single vein and nerve with pure magic. Nigel is warm and solid beneath him, and his lips are soft, their combined stubble and beard scratch together, and Bryan feels like he’s flying. Nigel’s kissing him back, and it’s not just one of the soft, scared, barely there kisses they used to have under the covers, it’s a kiss that Bryan’s pouring everything into, let’s go of Nigel’s hands and can’t help but let slip a moan when they come up to settle on his hips.

The kiss is only broken when Bryan feels like his lungs are going to explode from lack of oxygen and he has to take a breath. Nigel stares up at him, dazed, and his fingers are stroking just under the hem of his shirt, against the soft skin of his belly and making him shiver.

“That was…” Nigel says sitting up, pressing the two of them flush together, and leaving him with a lap full of Bryan.

“Long overdue.” Bryan finishes for him, pressing their foreheads together, because now he’s this close to Nigel he doesn’t want to stop, not until he’s pushed off and told no.

Bryan kisses him again, just because he can, and this time he gets fistfuls of Nigel’s jacket to keep him close, and he shamelessly grinds down into his lap. He doesn’t even care that they’re out in the open, because it’s dark, and it’s Nigel, and he didn’t think he’d ever be this close to him ever again.

“You get turned on when I call you a brat, Dragon?”

“You’ve never noticed?” Bryan answers against his mouth, and when Nigel huffs against his lips Bryan swallows it greedily, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get this again, whether Nigel will clam up or start teasing him again, pretending they’re nothing but people who used to wrestle together, not even friends, not even something.

“You never said.”

Bryan ignores Nigel in favour of kissing him, because that’s the better option, and Nigel lets it happen for a while before he’s pulling away, and dodging Bryan when he tries to chase his lips.

“Let’s go back. We can’t do this here.”

Bryan makes a noise, but Nigel’s right, they can’t spend all night here, and Bryan, well, he wants more than a kiss, if Nigel will give it to him. And they can’t do that here.

He gets up, offering a hand to Nigel to help him. A wave crashes loudly behind them, and Bryan feels like it’s as loud as his heartbeat right now, thumping against his chest as he looks up at Nigel.

There’s a moment where Nigel looks like he’s going to push Bryan out of his space, just turn away from him like he’s done so many times already this past week, but then he gets a hand around the back of Bryan’s neck and pulls him in, kissing him deep and hard like he’s always wanted Nigel to. And it’s everything he’s dreamed of, everything he’s ever pictured. Nigel’s hand is strong on his neck, and his mouth is hot and heavy and it makes Bryan sway on his feet.

“Nigel…”

“Come on, let's get back.” Nigel moves him by the hand on the back of his neck, before sliding it down to the small of his back as they make their way up the beach and back onto the sidewalk. The B&B isn’t too far away, but Bryan’s fizzing inside of his bones by the time they get there, feels like he’s having an outer body experience as they ascend the stairs, Nigel hot on his heels as they go.

He stumbles a little trying to unlock the room, the old key getting jammed in the door more than once, and it’s embarrassing that he’s in his forties and fumbling like a teenager, but that’s just how Nigel makes him feel, how long he’s been waiting to have this kind of moment with Nigel.

“Nervous?” Nigel rumbles behind him as they get into the room, and Bryan hates how small and inexperienced Nigel can make him feel. He’s old and he’s done this dance so many times that he can’t keep track, but Nigel makes him feel like a Virgin on prom night.

“Shut the fuck up.” He half growls half whines, slipping out of his jacket. Nigel does the same, and he’s barely got it off his shoulders before Bryan’s sinking to his knees in front of him. The carpet of the room is thin and he knows his knees are going to kill him after this, but God, if he hasn’t thought about this since he was in his early twenties, hasn’t wanted to suck Nigel’s dick for nearly two decades. Right now he doesn’t care if they both pop out and crack to pieces, as long as he gets his mouth on Nigel.

“Oh bloody hell, Bryan.” Nigel grits out when Bryan gets his cock out of his jeans, thick, hard and heavy in his hand. He’s seen Nigel’s dick before, in that woman’s mouth, in the locker room showers when he didn’t care who saw him naked, but he’s never been this close. Never held it in his hand, but he’s imagined it, dreamt about it and got himself off to it.

Bryan feels himself make an embarrassing noise when he slips his mouth down over him. He’s not been touched, or touched anyone, in months. Regal’s been busy, and before that he was too unwell with what MJF did to him, and the others, well he hasn’t been around to touch them. He’s touch starved and only noticing it now he’s finally getting to touch Nigel.

Nigel’s fingers find the back of his head, and tug at the hair tie, letting his hair down so he can get a grip on it.

“Always fucking knew you’d be good at this. Used to run your mouth so much, all I’d think about was stuffing you full and shutting you up.”

Bryan makes another noise at that, sliding his tongue along the underside of his cock. And if he could bear to take his mouth off of him Bryan would ask why he never did, because he’d have let him, it’s all he thought about too. He looks up at Nigel and grips his hip with the hand he’s not working his cock with, feels the dip that never used to be there, the slimness of his figure something that Bryan never expected to feel but it still feels right, like his fingers are meant to be there, mapping out every single line and muscle of Nigel’s body. Nigel’s face is slack with pleasure, eyes a little glazed over already, and Bryan thinks, wonders, how long it’s been for him. How long since someone touched him like this?

“Bry — get, get on the bed. I won’t last, and I can’t —“

Bryan doesn’t need to be told twice. He knows, they’re not young anymore, and they don’t have the refractory period they used to have, and Bryan really, really doesn’t want this to end with just a blow job, either.

He gets on the bed and pulls at his clothes, throwing them haphazardly off the other side of the bed. Nigel crawls on after him, a condom and lube in his hand, and Bryan can’t help but raise his eyebrows at him.

“Were you hoping to get lucky?”

Nigel smirks and bullies his way between Bryan’s legs, dropping them onto Bryan’s chest as he kisses him. “I don’t go anywhere without a condom, Dragon, safety first.” He says, and Bryan realises why just a little too late, but his apology is swallowed by Nigel’s mouth, and the strong hands that slide down his side to his ass short circuit his brain until he’s not thinking about anything but Nigel’s touch, and the heat from his skin, and the way he sucks and bites at Bryan’s throat like a starving man.

When Nigel gets his fingers into him, Bryan’s chest is bitten raw and his hair is sweaty and matted against the pillow from where Nigel’s been keeping him down with a hand to his throat as he chews at him like he’s a dog toy. And maybe he is, maybe he’s always been Nigel’s toy. It doesn’t matter that this is the first time they’ve ever been like this, he’s always been Nigel’s. Nigel’s the same way he’s Regal’s. The same way he’s Mox’s, Claudio’s, Yuta’s.

“I dreamt about you once, on the road,” Nigel murmurs against his mouth, and he’s got three fingers in him, and Bryan’s arching and squirming as he tries to get more, take more. “Dreamt about ripping those stupid trunks off you in the ring, pushing you down and making you mine, putting new trunks on you. Black ones, with a Union Jack across the arse. You know how much I hated seeing you in his gear?”

Bryan stutters out a breath. He didn’t know that. “You never said.” He gasps, and he grips at Nigel’s bicep, the bad one, but it’s not anymore, Bryan can feel the strength in it, how it’s holding him down, and in his head he can hear the thumpthumpthump of Todd Sinclaire’s hand on the mat, counting the three count.

“Nearly did, a few times. But your old man had his claws deep in you, always has, always will. Wouldn’t matter what I said, what I did.” Nigel’s teeth snag on his lip in a biting kiss, and Bryan feels his cock jump at the slight rush of pain.

Bryan feels like he’s floating, hands skimming over Nigel’s skin as he slips on a condom and lubes himself up. He thinks, as Nigel’s cock nudges into him, that at the time, if Nigel had asked him to stop wearing Regal’s trunks, he would have. At least, he wouldn’t have worn them all the time. He’d have worn black, or any other colour that Nigel wanted. Blue, maybe, just like Nigel used to wear in his early ROH years.

Fully seated inside of him, Nigel puts a hand around his throat, and he looks so beautiful on top of him. Just like he always did in the ring, just older now, a sharper jaw, softer eyes. Bryan pushes into his hand, hooks his legs around Nigel’s thighs, hands on his arms and pushes, flips them over to the middle of the bed.

Nigel looks just as good under him as he does on top of him, and he relishes in the hint of fear that crosses his face, that fighting spirit that Nigel’s so famous for starting to bubble to the surface.

Bryan rolls his hips, that first stroke of Nigel’s cock inside him making every single nerve inside of him sing, and he grips Nigel’s wrist around his throat, keeps it there like a pretty collar, and gives Nigel a matching one with his own hand.

“What, you thought I’d just lay down for you, Nigel? When have I ever done that?” Bryan grins at him, taking in Nigel’s shocked face.

“You always did come out on top.” Nigel says, but his free hand circles Bryan’s waist, and he plants his feet, pushing up into Bryan in slow, hard thrusts. It’s mind blowing, every thrust sending fireworks up Bryan’s spine, and his head tips back into the hand on his throat. It doesn’t cut off his air supply, but the pressure there, like Nigel could just choke him at any second, makes Bryan feel hot all over. It’s always will he won’t he with Nigel. Will he kiss him, will he punch him, will he beat him, will he take the title from him.

“I would have.” Bryan says, tipping his face back down, looking Nigel right in the eye as he rolls himself down, meeting the slow hard drag of Nigel’s dick.

“Would have what, Dragon?”

“Worn your trunks. You should have asked.”

“You wouldn’t—“

Bryan leans down, squeezing Nigel’s throat in warning, the same way he does to Yuta when he’s acting too much like a brat, and he kisses the corner of Nigel’s mouth, feeling the way he sucks in a breath, the way his dick twitches inside of him. “I would. I was his — am his, but I was just as much yours, always was, from the moment we met. Still am, after all this time.”

Nigel shakes a little below him, and Bryan pins both his arms down, taking what he’s wanted for so long now.

“Shit, Bry, I’m gonna—“

Bryan rides him through it, keeping Nigel’s arms pinned against the pillows. The way Nigel’s face contorts with his orgasm, the same way it did that night they slept with the woman from the bar, and Bryan’s been so desperate to see it ever since, to be the reason he’s seeing it, that it drives him a little crazy, and he only needs to stroke himself a couple of times before he’s coming all over Nigel’s stomach and chest, which is heaving with the orgasm and effort.

Bryan slumps down against Nigel, tucking his face into his neck and linking their fingers as they come down together. It’s funny, how long Bryan’s yearned for this, for Nigel, and that all the years he’s wanted it, the one thing that made him come and get it, get him, was losing to MJF. MJF doesn’t mean anything to him, other than being someone who hurt Regal, he’s no one to him, just a blip on the radar of people in his life. He’s no one. Yet somehow that loss, it rankled him enough to get on a plane all the way to England.

Was it really about the loss? The straw that broke the camel's back, or was it something else? Something subconscious, something deep within that Bryan hasn’t even begun to process yet? He doesn’t know. He just knows that he woke up the day after losing that match and he just — knew that this was where he needed to be. What was going to make Bryan happy, what was going to help him finally find his footing in the title picture. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about Nigel all these years, or not wanted him, but whenever he thought about him, it always ended with he’s gone, he doesn’t want to be found. But that morning, he woke up and said no, no more hiding, I need him.

“That woman from the bar, I couldn’t believe she was chatting you up. That you might have taken her back to the hotel. I kept thinking about it. About you touching her. I’d never seen you pull before, I couldn’t watch it.” Nigel says, breaking the silence that has fallen over them. His hand is on Bryan’s back, tracing the ridges of his spine with the pad of his finger.

“So you got involved?”

“I had hoped she would disappear, or I’d be able to get her to come with me to the bathroom or something and I could lose her. But she was relentless, she wanted your dick so bloody badly.” Nigel huffs out a laugh.

“Why didn’t you just tell her to leave?”

“Dunno, thought that would make it too obvious.”

“You should have made it obvious. It wasn’t her that I wanted. I was being polite, I wouldn’t have gone back to the hotel with her if you hadn’t come back too. I only managed to come because you did, I was watching you the whole time.” Bryan admits, and from where his cheek is pressed against Nigel’s shoulder he feels him let out a breath.

“I was imagining you were the one sucking me off, not her.” Nigel admits, and Bryan sighs. There was a middle woman that night, figuratively and literally, getting in the way of what they both wanted, because they were both too stubborn and too scared to admit how they really felt, who they really wanted.

“It could have been so different.” Bryan says.

“No,” Nigel says after a while. “It wouldn’t have been different. Even if we’d fucked, or been something, that wouldn’t have changed anything. WWE would have still rescinded my contract, I’d have still gotten Hepatitis. I’d have still come here, still done all this. Who I was getting my dick wet with would have never changed that.”

“You don’t know that, you don’t know how you—“

“I do know that, Bryan, I do know. I can’t tell you exactly when and where I got the hep, but I do know I’ve never had unprotected sex, so it came from wrestling. Whether we had been something I’d have still gotten it, still lost my contract, and still retired. What, you think that if we’d have had a thing back then that everything would have turned out perfectly? That I’d have come to the WWE with you, won the title a bunch of times and still been there now? Come on, Dragon, you’re smarter than that. You know that’s not how the world works.”

“Maybe,” Bryan says, resigned. He wishes it could have been like that. Forever entangled together. The only thing that would have made winning that first world title in WWE would have been Nigel being there with him, or being an insufferable prick and interrupting him, ruining the celebration, just like Bryan did to him in ROH. “But it’s hard not to think about what could have been.”

Nigel falls silent, and Bryan knows he’s thinking about it. What could have been. About a world where Nigel was never a retired pro wrestler turned car salesman, where he went ahead and became one of the most decorated wrestlers the WWE has ever seen. Because Bryan knows that given the chance, Nigel would have been bigger than he ever was. Everything that Bryan got, Nigel would have gotten double, he just knows it. Nigel connected with the crowd in a way very few others ever have. Maybe Bryan’s got the upper hand when it comes to wins, but he knows that if Nigel had managed to come with him, that tally would look a lot different now.

“The night you won the title, that World Heavyweight title, was the day after I retired.”

Bryan nods, because he remembers. “I text you.”

“You did. I didn’t get back to you. I was going to, but that night I couldn’t. And then the next morning, I was nothing but an angry shell of a person. You didn’t deserve what I would have said to you, so I didn’t.”

Bryan feels his stomach twist. He knows how it feels to know that your world as you know it is coming to an end. The world of professional wrestling is like no other, and when it gets ripped away from you, it’s like being sucked into a black hole. Bryan knows that if someone had been texting him about winning titles the day he was forced to retire, he wouldn’t have been in a good frame of mind either. He shouldn’t have done that to Nigel.

The words slip out of Bryan’s mouth before he can stop them.

“Come back with me. Come to AEW.”

Nigel stiffens underneath him, and then he untangles himself from Bryan, tying off the condom and throwing it away in silence.

“We’re going to Wembley in the summer, Nigel. We haven’t announced it yet, but Tony Khan is going to soon. We could be at Wembley, me and you. He brought ROH, we could go back to running it, the Pure title is back, just waiting for you to put it around your waist again, you could —“

“No.”

The word is vicious and angry, as Nigel finds a pair of boxers out of his bag and slides them on. Bryan gets out of the bed, finds Nigel’s robe and ties it around him.

“Nigel—“

“Fuck you, Bryan. Why are you here? What are you trying to achieve? Is this some fucking recruitment mission from your boss and the old man? Thought if you could fuck me and get me all buttered up that I’d agree to come back?”

“No, that’s not — I told you, no one knew I was coming here. Not Tony, not Regal, no one. I woke up on Monday morning and the only thing I could think about was finding you.”

“Right, because after a decade you suddenly decided I was important again?” Nigel sits down on the bed and buries his head in his hands. Bryan stares at the expanse of his back, the resigned and exhausted drop of his shoulders.

“You’ve always been important Nigel, I’ve not been the best at being around, but—“

“The day after I retired, after you won the title, I sat in my car and all the anger, the rage, the sadness, it just exploded out of me. I screamed and I cried, I shouted and I swore,” Nigel’s voice starts to shake, the tell tale sign that he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t fucking fair, Dragon. There was nothing wrong with me, I’d passed every fucking physical I could, every medical, every blood test and drug test and piss test. There was no fucking reason for him not to clear my arm. I had multiple letters from my doctors, there was nothing wrong with it, I wasn’t at risk of injuring myself without surgery. I was fucking fine, Bryan.” Nigel shouts, and there’s tears running down his face.

Bryan’s never been good with people who cry, whenever Yuta cries he hands him a tissue and lets Claudio deal with it because he’s better at it. He used to stare at his sister, not knowing what to say when she cried after a break up, waiting for her to stop crying. When his mom used to cry about his dad before they divorced, he’d lock himself in his room and wait for it to stop.

But this is Nigel. He’s never seen Nigel cry.

“I couldn’t afford the surgery they wanted, but I could have sorted something, if I really wanted it. But they wouldn’t even return my calls. I wanted it written that I’d be signed if I had the surgery. They wouldn’t even call me back, Bryan.”

Bryan gets on the bed and kneels behind Nigel, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I took the TNA call, and it was good, to start with. But then it started going tits up. Bad booking, getting Hepatitis. They said they’d pay me while not working but they didn’t, that’s why I worked at the grocery store. I could barely afford my fucking rent,” Nigel says, and he drives the heels of his palms into his eyes, his voice thick and claggy with sadness and tears, anger lacing it like venom.

“When they fired me, I knew that was it. I called WWE, but they didn’t want me anymore, even though I proved that my arm didn’t need surgery. I was too old, too broken. A walking fucking disaster. So I thought let’s give it one last fucking run, go out on a high note. Lost most of the matches, didn’t get to wrestle any one I wanted because you were all fucking off being big stars elsewhere. And just like that, life was over.” He says, sniffing away some of the tears. Bryan squeezes his shoulder, because he doesn’t know what to say. His heart hurts, because he knows that everyone was either at WWE, him, Claudio, Mox, or Joe, Doug, Aries still being in TNA, Colt was on the indies and couldn’t make it. Nigel’s last matches were with only a handful of people that meant anything to him.

“And I was angry, Bryan. I was angry and I was upset and I was fucking broke. My own fucking mother paid for my flight home for Christmas. There was a couple of times where I wanted to drive my car right into the fucking Thames, go down with it.” Nigel says, and his shoulders shake with the emotion of it all, and Bryan lays his forehead against the back of his neck, winds his arms around his waist and just holds him.

“But I’ve had nearly fourteen years to come to terms with it, to make peace with it, to finally let go of all of that hurt and anger and be at peace with the fact that it wasn’t supposed to happen for me. What I got was what I got, the ROH stuff, everything with us, it was enough in the end, I made it enough Bryan. And I told Regal no, and I’m telling you, no. Because I’m old, I’m old and I’m tired and I have no business getting back in a ring. Even for Wembley, even for Ring of Honor. Which, by the way, your boy is the Pure champ, you telling me I should take the title from him in this return you’re booking in your head? Want me to beat him up?”

Bryan can’t help but let out a puff of breath against the back of Nigel’s neck, thinking about Nigel and Yuta in the ring together. It’s never been lost on Bryan how much Yuta looks up to him, and Nigel, because a lot of Yuta’s style and techniques are uncanny. But Nigel and Yuta, grappling down on the mat, well, it’s a thought that could certainly keep Bryan warm at night.

“If there’s one thing about Yuta, it's that he doesn’t back down from a challenge. If you were back in the ring you’d probably not have time to even announce it before he’d challenge you. You’re the longest Pure champ, he’s got the most reigns. It would be a match to prove who’s the best Pure champ.”

“And who’ve you got your money on, Dragon?”

“You, always you.” Bryan says, and he presses a kiss to the back of Nigel’s neck, runs his fingers over the skin of his stomach, it used to be softer, Nigel always had a little belly, and Bryan used to stare at it when it just softly pudged out over the top of his trunks.

“So. Wembley, huh?” Nigel says, and the hint of wonder in his voice makes Bryan feel like hope is not lost. He’s not going to push now, Nigel can tell him he’s blue in the face that he’s made peace with never wrestling again, but Bryan knows that you don’t cry over something you’ve made peace with. You don’t have shrines and sit and stare at old belts if you’ve made peace with it. So maybe this is going to take longer than he thought, but it’s okay, he’s got time, he hasn’t got any plans, and Tony told him to take as much time as he wanted before coming back to work.

“Yeah. Tony’s gonna announce it soon.” He says, and it’s almost like he can see what Nigel’s thinking about. Nigel coming out, two fingers raised in the air, iron in one hand, the Pure title around his waist, to eighty odd thousand people screaming his name. The way it always should have been.

“You know,” Bryan says, because apparently he can’t let sleeping dogs lie and even if he tells himself not to push he just can’t stop, “making a return doesn’t mean you have to get back in the ring.”

Nigel’s body doesn’t freeze this time, nor does he push Bryan away.

“Oh yeah, what should I do, become a ref?”

“You could commentate, or be a manager. Regal called you for Blackpool Combat Club for a reason. He knew he was coming in and he was gonna’ mentor me and Mox again. He wanted you by his side, I know how he thinks. There’d be no one better to head hunt for talent than you. People like Yuta, Lee Moriarty, Daniel Garcia, they’ve watched and learned from you all their lives and who better to come back and teach them in person? If I’d have had you next to me, I might have done a better job at showing Daniel he was a wrestler, not a sports entertainer.”

“Jericho’s done good with him so far, you can see that.”

“But with us he’d be better. Look at Yuta. He gets better every single match, he’s meaner and he’s sharper. One day he’s going to be better than me. I often think that he and Daniel are going to be the new me and you.”

Nigel snorts, “They fucked yet?”

“Yes, so they’re already doing better than we did.”

Bryan can feel the smile break out on Nigel’s face even though he’s not looking at him, his face still pressed into the back of his neck.

“You know everything there is to know about wrestling Nigel, you can talk the talk and walk the walk, you could be dumped on a commentary table tomorrow and you’d do a better job than half the comentators out there.”

Nigel doesn’t say anything, and Bryan doesn’t push, at least anymore than he already has, and just strokes his fingers over the skin of his tummy, and then gently coaxes him back into bed. His eyes are red and puffy, and Bryan just wants to make it go away. To show Nigel that he can come home, that he doesn’t have to stay away anymore, there’s a Nigel McGuinness sized crater in wrestling just waiting to be filled back up. It’s not too late, he’s not too old.

Bryan sits up against the headboard and gets his arms around Nigel’s shoulders, bringing him down against him. These old fashioned B&B bedsheets are scratchy against his bare skin, but somehow he’s in his fourties and in bed with Nigel McGuinness, in a place that looks like they got the last room for a last minute booking. It’s like nothing has changed and everything has changed all at once.

“You don’t even know that Tony Khan would want me.”

Bryan smoothes his hand down between Nigel’s shoulder blades. “If you don’t think Regal hadn’t already talked about you to him at length then you’re crazy. And if you haven’t noticed, he’s a massive mark. He’d flip his little fan boy heart out if he got Nigel McGuinness back in ROH.”

“You’ve said mark to many times since I’ve seen you for my liking.”

“I’ve said it like twice.”

“Too many times, Dragon.”

“Point still stands. If he knew I was here I’d have had to turn my phone off by now.”

There’s a long silence, and has already started falling asleep when Nigel speaks.

“It’s still a no.”

Bryan sighs, a little deflated, and he scoots down the bed so he can curl under the covers against Nigel’s side. They’ll be leaving tomorrow, because it will be Sunday and Nigel has work on Monday morning. But Bryan doesn’t have anywhere to be, he can wait, as long as it takes, for Nigel’s answer to turn into a yes.

“Goodnight, Nigel.”

++

The journey back to Liverpool is wet and windy, with big fat raindrops thrashing against the windows and the wipers going at a million miles an hour as Nigel drives. They’d gotten up that morning and had breakfast, took another short walk on the beach before the weather turned bad, before checking out of the B&B and getting in the car to come home. They’d hit Sunday traffic, and then the weather really picked up making it worse, and they’ve been slowly crawling back to Nigel’s the past couple of hours.

The rain soaks them when they finally run into the house, and it feels cold and unlived in when Nigel finally manages to unlock the door. He’s immediately shoved up the stairs, and Bryan goes easily, letting Nigel bully him all the way into Nigel’s bedroom.

Finally seeing the inside of the room is like seeing into Nigel’s mind. It’s nicely furnished, with a big fancy bed, a couple of bedside tables and lamps, plush carpet and a wardrobe and a dresser. But above the dresser are two shelves, one with the Pure title on, and above it, one with a replica of the ROH World title on. They both sit proudly, and two photographs are framed on the wall either side of them. One, a picture of Nigel with his classic look, the bomber jacket, the sunglasses, the blonde spiked hair, and the title is backwards around his waist, so you can’t see the design but you can see the straps. The other, a picture of them, and Bryan thinks it might be from the night Nigel lost the Pure title to him, they’re shaking hands, and Bryan’s got the World title around his waist, Nigel’s got the Pure title on his shoulder.

He realises he’s been staring at it too long when Nigel shoves him down onto the bed face first, hands threading into his bun and pulling it out, letting his hair splay out so he can pull at it.

He lets out a broken noise, but he goes down easily for Nigel, letting him strip him down and bend him like a pretzel, putting him in god damn submission moves as he fingers him, eats him out, fucks him into oblivion. Bryan’s thoroughly worked out by the time it’s dinner time, and his body aches like he’s been through a match or been running the ropes for hours.

It’s good, though, it’s fucking wonderful, actually, because Nigel doesn’t seem to want to put him down now that they’ve open the gates on an intimate relationship. He doesn’t want Nigel to put him down, and he doesn’t want to put Nigel down, so he doesn’t, and they stay holed up in his bedroom for the rest of the night, even eating dinner curled up between the sheets, which Bryan would yell at anyone else for. But Nigel kisses him like he’s the very best dessert he’s ever had, so Bryan is not going to complain at all.

He doesn’t mention the belts on the wall, or the picture of them, because he’s done enough pushing.

Bryan sleeps next to Nigel that night, and they stay in bed right up until Nigel has to drag himself out and shower before he ends up late for work the next morning.

They fall back into their routine, Nigel goes to work and Bryan finds himself things to do, gardening mostly, if it’s not pouring down with rain or too cold. They spend their spare moments making up for lost time, and Bryan feels like his brain and body go through a hard reset. He’s always known that he needs Nigel, he’s felt the absence of him like a missing tooth at the back of his mouth for years now. Its not always felt, but when you do, the size of the gap is a shock. And now Bryan’s realising just how big that gap has been for so long. Reminds him that when he’s successful here, he’s got to fix what’s going on at home.

They go to the pub on Wednesday night, and Jenny squeals in delight when she sees him, pulling him down into the same seat as last time, telling him all about the week she’s had at work — she’s a teacher, which Bryan can see how she’d fit in that environment —, and Robbie, Tom and George fill him in on all the soccer scores like they’re the most important things in the world. Bryan likes Nigel’s friends, and he happily helps Jen beat them all at poker, and he laughs at her flirting when they drop her home, drunker than she was last week.

They fuck and they watch wrestling and eat dinner together, Nigel works and Bryan keeps himself busy. It’s a kind of domestic bliss that Bryan hasn’t had in a long time. Maybe ever.

A week after they get back from Blackpool, nearly two weeks after Bryan showed up at Nigel’s workplace with just a bag and a mission, Nigel comes back from work, Bryan’s washing the dishes after he’d baked banana bread, and Nigel looks at him. He looks scared, nervous, but there’s a sparkle in his eye, that fight and determination that Bryan remembers so well dancing around in his pretty eyes.

“Nigel?” Bryan says, drying his hands on the dish towel.

“Do it.”

“Do what?”

Nigel bites at his lip, runs a hand over his face and lets out a nervous breath and says,

“Call Tony. Tell him I want to talk.”

[dbnightingale24]

Sudden Desire

Steve Rogers - One Shot

~~

Two stories in one week? Just call this DB’s apology for being so shitty with updating lately. I really am sorry though, I’ve just been dealing with a lot, but good things are coming! I’m hoping to update my Andy Barber soon, but until then...enjoy 🙃😌

Word Count: 7,051

Warnings: SMUT, Infidelity, Drinking, Arguing, Swearing, Angst, Drama, Adult Themes, MINORS DNI, 18+

Summary: You and Steve have been tiptoeing the line of friends and lovers for a long time. What happens when neither of you can hold back anymore?

Song(s) That Inspired This Chapter:

Sudden Desire - Hayley Williams 

Part 2

~~

You stand in the back of the press room, watching reporters all fight to get their questions answered by America’s Golden Boy. He stood there, small and soft smile on his face, arm, standing tall and looking ever much like the sweet and kind man the world has come to know and love, and her lovingly looking up at him.

America’s Boy Next Door. 

However, after what happened 2 weeks ago, you know him as your own personal torture chamber.

You knew you were out of line, but you would just blame it on the alcohol Tony had been practically shoving down your throat all night. Besides, it’s not like Captain Rogers seemed to mind all of the ‘accidental’ touching, side glances, and small smiles his way.

It was all innocent though and you’re sure he knows that. He’s been married to Sharon for what feels like forever. No, you’re just a girl with a silly little crush and you’re sure he’s just laughing it off.

“Funny that you choose to wear this on the night that Agent Rogers isn’t here,” Nat smiles as she leans against the counter next to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Knee high maroon high heel boots? A mini black skirt? With a long sleeve black tight black sweater to match? Plus, you’re hair is down and has bounce to it.”

“You’re point, Missy?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow.

“It’s just funny that you would wear such a ‘fuck me please’ outfit, when she isn’t here,” she chuckled.

“Her not coming was a last minute thing. I was planning on wearing this because someone” you nudge her “always tells me to wear clothes that have more...pop, I believe was the word you used,” you laughed softly as Nat shook her head.

“That’s fair, but still...”

“Still what?”

“You in this outfit, their marriage on the rocks, and now her not coming last minute-”

“Their marriage is on the rocks?”

“They argue all the time. Steve’s been sleeping at the compound a lot. They’re trying to make it work...well, Sharon more so than Steve, but still, I know they’ve been going to therapy.”

“What does that mean? Sharon more so than Steve?”

“Steve just doesn’t...fuck,” Nat sighed, before looking around to make sure no one was around to hear her. No one meaning Steve or Bucky, cause he’d snitch on her in an instant. “Steve hasn’t been in love for a while. After everything with the snap, then the arguments about him retiring and her having a child, I think...I know he’s over it.”

“How do you know?”

“We’ve talked about it. He came over to Bruce’s about 2 months ago and we talked for hours. He feels awful because he doesn’t want to hurt Sharon, but he’s just not in love anymore. He brought up getting a divorce and that’s when she started suggesting therapy and them doing more stuff together. He just doesn’t care to try anymore, though.”

“And when you say everything that happened with the snap, I’m assuming you mean him and me spending so much time together?”

“You two did kiss.”

“It was just a kiss! I was sad...we were both sad and it just happened. The minute we broke away, we both apologized and decided to never talk about it. We’re just friends.”

“So you’re gonna tell me you haven’t seen the way he’s been looking at you tonight?”

“He’s been drinking Thor’s drink. He’s probably just a little buzzed, Nat.”

“Sure,” she smirked “friends don’t look at friends like that.”

“What are you two talking about? My ears are burning,” Steve smiled as he walked.

“Oh, just friends...friendships and how great they are,” Nat smirked at you before pushing herself off of the counter. “I’m gonna go find Bruce. I have a feeling he’s had one too many beers and I should be taking him home soon.”

Nat smiled at Steve before giving you a knowing looking and made her way out of the kitchen.

“Did I walk in on something?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised.

“No no,” you laughed softly, taking a sip of whatever it was Tony had made you. “Just a bit of catching up, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to talk. The Avengers being so busy and all,” you tease and Steve rolled his eyes.

“The world is back to itself, for the most part, so that means criminals and aliens are back to try and destroy it.”

“You can always count on chaos.”

“That’s true,” he chuckled, walking over to you “something seems off. You okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. Tonight was good, it’s been fun. I really think we all needed this. Too bad Sharon couldn’t come.” “Yeah well...priorities,” he sighed before taking a drink of what was in his glass.

“Are you okay? It’s been a while since we’ve spoken too,” you asked, looking him in the eyes.

“I’m fine-”

“Steve.”

“I really am fine. I’m just trying to adjust to some things and it takes time.”

“What kind of things?”

“Someone’s full of questions tonight,” he laughed and you awkwardly laughed along. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay,” he smiled softly.

“I always worry about you,” you all but mumbled before downing the rest of your drink. “I should get going though. It’s gonna start raining soon and I walked here.”

“What? No! I just got a chance to talk to you, stay!”

“We can do lunch this week or maybe next week.”

“I really miss you, please stay. You can stay at my place tonight, I’ll drive us myself.”

“You’ve had a few yourself,” you chuckled at the cup in Steve’s hand.

“This will be my last one. Please...don’t go,” he pleaded softly, standing directly in front of you, leaving little distance between the two of you, looking down at you.

“O-okay,” you stuttered out, starting to feel hot.

For the rest of the night, you and Steve were inseparable. You didn’t think anything of it when he took your hand in his as means to keep you close to him, nor when he placed his hand on your thigh when you two took a seat to continue your conversations with Clint and Thor. It wasn’t like you two hadn’t touched each other before or been close, it had just been a while. You two used to spend all of your time together.

It was normal.

However, your breath did hitch in your throat when he subtly wrapped his arm around your waist and whispered that he thought you two should be leaving because the rain was starting to pick up.

That was new.

The entire car ride to his place, he had your playlist on shuffle while you both tried to fill the drive with empty and meaningless conversation, but the tension was unavoidable. Yes, Steve kept his eyes on the road whole, but he also kept his hand on his upper thigh. The most you dared to do was lightly run your fingers up and down his arm.

When he turned onto his street the song that started playing only made things worse.

‘I wanted him to kiss me how

With open mouth and open mouth

We keep our distance now

I wanna feel his hands go down

I try not to think about

What happened last night outside his house

Too far to go back now

Just wanna feel his hands go down’

His grip on your thigh tightened a little when he reached the mansion at the end of the block. The one you had been in so many times. Slept over in, laughed in, cried in, danced in, kissed in...you had been there so many times, but it felt different.

It felt too heavy for you and as your breathing started to speed up a little, you knew you should have asked him to take you home, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

‘Sudden, sudden desire

Sudden, sudden desire

A sudden desire’

You both sat in the car for a moment, staring at the large house in front of you. You were mentally prepping yourself to be the good friend you had always been, but when you looked over at Steve he seemed conflicted. He was contemplating something, but you didn’t know what it could be.

Or maybe you did and you just wanted to pretend you didn’t.

‘Take the elephant by the hand and hold it

It’s cruel to tame a thing that don’t know it’s strength

But better to walk beside it

Mm, than underneath

My kind companion

Softens stone

My gentle giant

Painful reminder’

You took Steve’s hand in yours and gave it a gentle squeeze. Trying to reassure him that everything was fine. Everything would be fine. Just like you had done so many times in the past. He looked over to you and a small nervous smile came to his face. He was almost shaking.

‘Don’t look in my eyes, I feel a sudden desire (sudden, sudden desire)

Don’t know if I can deny a sudden desire (sudden, sudden desire)

Your fingerprints on my skin, a painful reminder

Don’t look in my, I feel a sudden desire (sudden, sudden desire)

A sudden desire’

“Lets get inside, this rain getting worse by the second,” he laughed awkwardly, turning the car off.

You both wasted no time running up the steps and staying close to each other, pointlessly trying to avoid the heavy raindrops. When he finally got the door unlocked, he gently placed his hand on your lower back to usher you in and one of the lines from the chorus of the last song you both listened to played on a loop in your head.

‘Your fingerprints on my skin, a painful reminder’

“Where’s Sharon? When I didn’t see her car, I thought she parked it in the garage, but it’s extremely quiet,” you laughed softly as looked around, taking off your jacket and placing it on his sofa.

So much had changed but it also felt like nothing had at all.

“She’s going to stay in D.C. because of the rain. She said she’ll meet me at work tomorrow and from there...”

“From there what?”

“We go to therapy. Do you want anything to drink?” he asked, throwing his coat on top of yours on the sofa.

“Um, I’ll have whiskey having. Steve, do you wanna talk about it?” you asked, feeling a bit guilty and following him into the kitchen.

“Not really,” he muttered two glasses and a bottle of whiskey for you and the bottle of whatever it is that Thor always brought to parties.

“Hey,” you called softly, placing your hand is back “put that down and talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just wish...”

“You wish what?”

“Nothing.”

“Steve, it’s me. You can always talk to me.”

“I know that but-”

“But what?”

“Why did you break up with John after he was back from the Snap?”

“What?” you asked, caught off guard by the question.

“Why did you break up with him? You cried over him for so long and then you broke up with him 6 months after he got back.”

“I just...I didn’t feel the same anymore. Things had changed with me and it wasn’t fair to him to just string him along while I tried to get my shit together. It was just the right thing to do.”

“Why did your feelings change?” Steve asked, finally turning his gaze to meet yours. His blue eyes burning a hole into your soul.

“I don’t know,” you lied softly, starting to feel hot.

“Yes you do.”

“Steve-”

“I thought I stayed for Sharon. I had the chance to be with Peggy and I chose to come back. I told myself that it was because too much had happened and that I love Sharon, but the more I tried to make it work, the more I realized that she wasn’t the reason I stayed at all. You are.”

“Steve. Don’t. Don’t do this.”

“I know you feel the same way. That’s why you broke up with John and that’s why you’ve been staying away,” he stated softly, slowly making his way towards you.

“You’ve been staying away too,” you defended, slowly backing away. You still had time to run, nothing had happened yet.

You should’ve run.

“Out of guilt. Not towards Sharon, but towards you. I know how much you love her. How much you respect her. It’s not right, but I don’t want to be with her. I heard Nat tell you that I’ve been trying to get a divorce and I’m not mad. I want you to know, because Sharon is the only reason I haven’t said anything.”

“She loves you-”

“I love you.”

“She wants to make it work. She’s still-”

“I don’t care about what she wants,” he stated hotly, taking his ring off and throwing it across the kitchen. “I care about what you want. What we want.”

“Steve,” you said softly as your back hit the counter “don’t do this.”

“I see the gazes and longing stares,” he almost whispered, as he pressed his body against yours, while his hand softly started to stroke your arm. “Tonight...this outfit.”

“We’ve both had a lot to drink-”

“I’ve been out drinking with you,” he chuckled humorlessly “I know you can drink much more than you have tonight. I’ve already sobered up. Why fight this?”

“Because we can’t take it back when you regret it in the morning.”

“I won’t regret this,” he stated softly, using his forefinger to lift your chin softly to meet his gaze. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Steve,” you responded in almost a whisper.

That was all it took for you to throw all your worries and guilt out the window. While he was the one that kissed, you’re the one who took it a step further when you slid your tongue across his bottom lip, desperately begging for entry which he instantly granted. As your tongues fought for dominance, you ignored the thoughts telling you how wrong it all was. Telling you that you’d feel so guilty in the morning.

“I’ve waited for you for so long,” he whispered desperately and hotly as he pushed up your skirt. “Fuck, black lace panties, huh?”

“If I had known the night was going to end like this, I wouldn’t have worn anything,” you moaned, feeling his fingers softly trace over your most sensitive bud that was barely covered.

“Shit, I need you now.”

He picked you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You two were upstairs in no time and hadn’t even noticed that you had made it to his bedroom until your back was pressed up against the door.

You didn’t have time to think about the fact that his room was also her room, because he was grinding against your clothed and soaked channel, and you were doing your best not to rush it. You wanted to make it last as long as possible. The repercussions of your actions would be waiting for you the next day and you didn’t want to think about it.

“You are so fucking perfect, you know that?” he asked, laying you down on the bed, before starting to unbutton his shirt and removing it.

You were both frozen there for a moment. Lost in the weight of what was going to happen, because neither of you were strong enough anymore. Steve Rogers could save the world, but he couldn’t stop his heart from craving you in the worst possible way.

And you? You had been bound to him from the moment he smiled at you.

It was inevitable.

“Steve, we can still stop this-”

“I don’t want to stop this,” he stated in a low growl, unzipping one of your heels and throwing it to the ground “and neither do you.”

“I know what we want, but still-”

“I’m tired of doing whatever everyone wants,” he said, voice still low and desperate as he removed your other heel and tossed it to the ground. “Doing what everyone wants is what kept me from acting sooner. I’m done waiting for Sharon to agree and I’m done avoiding you. I’m tired of missing you. Tired of needing you.”

“Steve-”

“Tell me you want to stop and I will. I’ll take you home right now and we’ll pretend this never happened,” he promised softly.

Your silence was all he needed.

He stroked your calf softly, before dipping down to kiss his way up your leg. Every moan and soft whisper of ‘please’ had him eagerly making his way closer to where you needed him most. When he had finally reached your upper thigh, biting and licking in the most vulgar way, you grabbed a fist full of his hair as you arched your back.

You needed him.

“Steve please,” you begged in a way you didn’t know you were capable of.

“What do you need, Honey?” he asked, pushing your panties to the side and groaning at the soaked site in front of him

“Do something, anything. Make me feel that is the right thing to do,” you begged.

Steve’s mouth was on you almost instantly. While you whimpered and writhed against him, he pushed two thick fingers deep within you, only making you even crazier.

He didn’t take it easy on you, sucking and licking on your clit with more determination each time you came undone for him. When you bucked your hips forward, he laid an arm across your stomach in an attempt to keep you still.

“Don’t...don’t want to wait anymore. Can’t,” you breathed out after he brought you off with his tongue for the final time. “I need to feel you, please...” you pathetically whimpered while trying to bring yourself back down to earth.

“If only you knew how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” Steve smirked against your inner thigh before propping himself up and undoing his pants.

When he took himself out of his slacks and stroked himself a little, you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. He was even more gorgeous than you ever imagined. He, every part of him, was too beautiful to put into words.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, “I need to hear you say it again.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me.”

The look on his face almost made your heart break. He felt so terrible but he was done fighting. He needed validation from you. “I love you so much, Steve. I always have and I always will,” you responded breathlessly.

When Steve slowly pushed himself inside of you, you moaned at the pleasurable pain of him stretching you out. “Holy shit!”

“Jesus! You’re fucking tight!” Steve groaned as he bottomed out. “Am I the biggest you’ve ever had?” he questioned, cocky grin playing on his lips.

All you could do was nod.

“I can fucking tell, the way your body begs for me...shit!” he muttered, clenching his eyes shut as he continued to move within you.

“More...I need more...please! Destroy me,” you whimpered, tears stinging your eyes as dug your nails into his back.

Steve started to pound into you relentlessly, as he gripped the bed sheets, you moaned and begged underneath him in a desperate and pathetic way that you had never done before.

“Even before that fucking kiss,” he grunted, picking up his pace as you dug your nails deeper into his back “I knew you were the one. You’ve always been the only one and I’m so fucking sorry!”

“Just be here with me now,” you managed to breathe out, meeting his gaze as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“I love you so much,” he said so softly that it was almost a whisper. Like it was just a secret for you to know.

“I love you, Steve,” you whimpered while trying to fight off the orgasm that had been building up deep within you.

“We have all night, baby. There’s no way I’m letting this end as quick as it started.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, coming undone at his words and the look of pure ecstasy and love in his eyes.

Steve barely let you get yourself together before he wrapped a strong arm around your waist and guided you upward with him. “I don’t know how I’ve waited for you this long,” he grunted, upthrusting within you with so much vigor that you were almost instantly clenching around him again.

“I’ve needed you...always needed you,” you breathlessly confessed, too blissed out to keep in the secrets you had been holding for so long.

Steve pulled you as close to him as possible, trailing kisses from your earlobe down to your neck, letting his tongue slide freely and lightly across your collar bone, causing you to feel pleasure all over; mainly in your fingertips.

“Steve, I-I...I can’t...”

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you,” he cooed against your ear before biting down hard on your ear lobe.

You came hard for him again, not even embarrassed by the sound that left your mouth, soon being met with Steve following you after.

He had you 2 more times that night and wrapped his arm tight around your waist when you two fell asleep. Almost as if he were making sure you were real.

He awoke you early the next morning with his face between your legs and had you three more times before deciding you both needed to get to work.

And he didn’t bother to put his ring back on.

“You look exhausted,” Nat laughed when you met up with her for lunch. “Spend too much time with Steve last night?”

You just smiled and laughed nervously as you opened your cup of yogurt.

“You didn’t!” Nat exclaimed in almost a whisper.

“Then believe I didn’t and move on,” you muttered, swirling your yogurt around with your spoon.

“Y/N-”

“Don’t Nat. It’s not...it’s not that simple. Please don’t think that I just...it’s not that simple.”

“What about Sharon?”

“Please stop, one thing led to another and I just...I love him, Nat. I love him and he loves me, and my stomach hurts,” you groaned before leaning laying your head on the table.

You heard Nat sigh before she placed her hand softly on your back. “He isn’t wearing his wedding ring.”

“He took it off last night before...I told him that I think he should put it back on, but he was firm in his decision to keep it off. He swears that he doesn’t want to be with her, and what I can do except believe him? After last night...what choice do I have?” you almost sobbed.

You both finished your lunches in silence, you knowing that Nat was disappointed in you and Nat knowing you didn’t need a lecture. When you both started on your way back to Tony’s office, Nat for a meeting and you to get back to work, you were stopped in your tracks at the raised voices leaving Steve’s office.

“Do you like making me feel stupid, Steve?! Making me feel stupid!?”

“Sharon, the only person making you feel and look that way is you. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that I want a divorce before you actually believe me.”

“What happened? You wanted therapy, we’ve been going and now you come to work without your wedding ring?!”

“Sharon-”

“No Steve! I’m trying my hardest to make this work and-”

“Sharon, this isn’t something new!” Steve finally snapped. “I’ve been trying to get us into therapy long before everything with Thanos and you didn’t want to go! Am I happy you’re back? Of course! However, just because I’m happy you’re back doesn’t mean I want to be with you anymore!”

“You have become so cruel,” she sobbed.

“Save the tears,” he sighed and you could tell he was frustrated “you do this every time-”

“Shouldn’t that say something? You saying every time?!”

“It says that you continuously rope me into stay in this sham of marriage every time we have this argument and I’m done! I don’t fucking want to be married to you anymore and I’m not backing down anymore!”

“You just need time! We’ll talk about this at home-”

“I’m staying at the compound. I want out, Sharon!” Steve warned.

“This isn’t over!” she yelled before swinging the door open.

Her eyes landed on both you and Nat, but you didn’t miss (or like) the way she glared at you.

“Miss Y/L/N, may I see you in my office?” Steve asked once his eyes locked with yours.

You didn’t like or miss the way everyone’s eyes were on you as you made your way into his office.

Once Steve closed the door behind you, his lips were on yours almost instantly.

“Stop,” you breathed out once you two broke apart. “We can’t...Steve, last night can’t happen again.”

“It can happen for the rest of our lives,” he smiled before pressing soft kisses down your neck.

“She wants to make it work-”

“She wants all of the attention and nice things that come along with being my wife. She doesn’t....she hasn’t wanted me in a long time.”

You took his face in your hands and gave him a sad and soft smile. “You can...if she’s willing to fight for you-”

“Stop,” he commanded softly. “I’m not who she’s fighting for. She wants wants status and a title. If I hadn’t been so desperate and lonely in the beginning...she was never the one for me.”

“Don’t...don’t do this to me if you aren’t-”

“You think everything I told you last night was a lie? Before, during, and after? You are everything to me. We will be together,” he promised softly before hiking your skirt up around your waist.”Stay at the compound with me tonight,” he whispered hotly against your neck before biting down hard as his hand traveled down into your panties.

“N-no,” you stuttered at the feel of his two fingers pushing into you “we can’t...not until you file for the divorce.”

“I never want to spend another night without you again,” he growled, fucking you faster.

“I-I...shit!” you cried out as your release got closer and closer.

“Careful baygirl, can’t have you making as much noise as you did last night. Or this morning,” he smirked against your skin.

You clenched your eyes shut and balled your hands into a fist on either side of you. You were convinced that Steve Rogers was going to be the death of you.

You let out a silent and choked gasp when you coated his fingers with your want and you heard him chuckle softly. “There’s my good girl.”

He shoved his two fingers into your mouth, which you happily licked and sucked clean, before forcing your legs around his waist and carrying you to then placing you gently on his desk.

“Steve-”

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he taunts quietly, undoing his pants. The sight of him was still something you weren’t used to and it had you whining like a bitch in heat. “Tell me what you want,”

“You,” you admitted softly. “I always want...always need you.”

“You’ll always have me,” he promised softly before thrusting himself into you.

You let out a pathetic whimper at feel of him inside you again. Your eyes met his gaze and he was looking at you with pure love and admiration. Like you were the most important thing in his world.

“I love you so much,” he grunted softy, his grip on your thighs getting tighter. “I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you, you want that?”

You nodded vigorously, “yes Steve, please!”

“’m never gonna be without you a again...shit!” he pitifully moaned “need you to cum right now, baby!” he commanded as softly as he could.

It’s not like you could disobey him, he played your body like a fucking fiddle. You let out a silent cry as your release hit hard then feeling him fill you up with his own release moments later. You both stayed that way for a moment, breathing heavy and holding onto each other as if the other could disappear at any moment.

“St-stay...stay with me tonight,” he softly begged after a beat, stoking your face softly with his thumb.

So you did.

You snuck in when the coast was clear and you told him that things couldn’t go any further until you two came to a clear understanding of what was going on between the two of you and what it meant.

Then you two just fell into a deep conversation about any and everything under the sun until you fell asleep.

It all felt so natural that for a moment, you forgot how wrong it was. You forgot that Sharon had honestly tried to befriend you when her and Steve became a couple. She knew you and Steve had been close since you started working there and she did her best to be okay with it.

With how things ended up, you couldn’t blame her for getting into an argument with Steve about him spending less time with you. Steve hadn’t necessarily agreed, and you knew he wouldn’t, so you made it easier by finding ways to keep yourself busy and away. It seemed like the right thing...at the time.

Which is why, after 4 days in your sinful heaven with Steve, you didn’t know why you were surprised to find her waiting at your desk when you came into work.

“Hey Y/N,” she smiled softly with a soft wave.

“Hey Sharon, what’s up?” you smiled back, avoiding the shame and guilt you felt as you took a seat.

“I just...shit,” she sighed. “First, I owe you an apology. I made Steve choose between you and me and that wasn’t fair. You were nothing but a good friend to him and I let my jealousy get in the way.”

“Sharon, you really don’t-”

“Oh, but I really do. I do because of what I’m about to ask,” she smiled weakly. “I know...I know he loves you. He’ll deny it forever, but I know him. He’s been hanging out with you and I’m almost positive he’s told you what’s been going on. Especially after you heard that argument outside his office a few days ago.”

“Sharon I-”

“It’s okay, I’m not mad at you for anything. I know you two haven’t done anything, but I know...I know that he wants you...I know he’ll try. I’m doing my best to save my marriage and I’m so sorry to ask this of you again,” she started to sob, doing her best to wipe away the tears that had fought to escape. “Please...I can’t compete with you and despite what he says, I do love him. If I have any chance at making this work, I need you to stay away. Please?” she cried, turning away from you.

You had never felt so terrible in your life. What were you supposed to do? She was married to him and at the end of the day, no matter how romantic it all seemed, you were still the mistress at the end of the day.

So, you started to stay away again.

You stopped going to the compound, you found ways to avoid his office and him, you never stayed at work longer than you had to, and you ignored all of his texts and phone calls. It hurt more than anything you had ever felt, but you kept telling yourself it was the right thing. Even when Steve showed up at your apartment practically sobbing and begging you to talk to him. You missed him so much, but Sharon was making a real effort. If staying away could help them, that’s what you would do.

Which is why when Tony asked you to be at the press conference the night before, you tried to find any possible way out.

“Tony, there’s no reason for me to be there. Why can’t Pepper-?”

“She’s leaving tonight for a press conference in California about a new plant we’re opening. She’s trained you and you’re the one I trust.”

“Tony-”

“What’s going on with you, Y/N? You haven’t been like yourself for a while.”

“Nothing,” you snapped, running a frustrated hand through your hair.

“Does it have something to do with why Rogers is so moody? Did something-”

“What time do you need me there?”

“Y/N, you know you can always talk to me about anything.”

“I know I can, I just...I can’t right now. What time do you need me there?”

“8am at the compound to go over everything with the team,” he sighed.

“Fine, I’ll see everyone tomorrow at 8.”

It didn’t help that when you got there this morning, you saw Sharon leaving Steve’s room, him following not too far behind.

When he saw you, he almost instantly ran over to you.

“Where the-”

“Tony’s waiting,” you quickly interrupted, clearing your throat and looking away so you wouldn’t fall apart in front of everyone. So he wouldn’t see you fall apart.

“Stop it and talk to me,” he begged softly. “What? What did she say?”

“It clearly doesn’t matter.”

“Nothing happened!” he whispered harshly. “She came over drunk and crying and it was late. I let her sleep it off in my room and I slept in Bruce’s room. All I did was check on her. That’s it!”

“Steve, we can’t do this now. Besides, there’s nothing to discuss. I’m happy you two are working it out.”

“Y/N...please-”

“Steve go, you have work to do,” you stated firmly, finally meeting his gaze.

Once he saw the pain in your eyes, he let out a deep sigh and made his way over to the team, who all had their eyes on the both of you.

Them and Sharon.

For almost all of the press conference, Steve’s eyes always made their way back to you, and you just wanted to die. Being able to love him, even if just for a little while, was better than nothing. However, that doesn’t dull any of the pain you feel. Watching Sharon look up at him with so much love and pride in her eyes makes you realize that you’ve made the right choice.

You’re so busy trying to keep yourself occupied with going over your notes that you don’t see him looking you over as a reporter asks him about his retirement plans.

“Captain Rogers? Any comment?” the reporter follows up.

Your eyes meet before he turns his attention to the reporter, “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”

“Retirement? You’ve been saving the world since World War II. Any plans on slowing down soon? Maybe starting a family or just living a quiet life outside of the Avengers?”

‘Won’t fit in the room, big balloon

Trails me cause I can’t let go

Everywhere I am, it sticks close like a friend

Just like him

Just like him

Friendly reminder of a sudden desire’

Steve locks eyes with you before answering the question. “After we open this Academy and get it up and running, I plan on passing my shield on to Sam Wilson and joining the parts of the Avengers that are more behind the scenes,” he says proudly gaining gasps from everyone, Avengers included, because they clearly had not planned for this. “As for slowing down and starting a family,” he starts, eyes suddenly hopeful, “I hope that once my divorce from Agent Sharon Carter finalizes, Miss Y/L/N will accept my proposal and choose to start a life of happiness and love with me,” he smiles at you.

Almost instantly, attention and camera flashes are on you, asking for your answer and if you’re okay with being the woman who breaks up the Avengers, but none of that matters. Not even Sharon burning a hole into your head with her stare of full hatred.

What matters is that Steve chooses you and he does it in front of the world. Now with his eyes on you, along with everyone else, you have a choice to make. Do you follow your heart or run and hide?

‘I wanted him to kiss me how

With open mouth and open mouth

We keep our distance now

I wanna feel his hand go down

I try not to think about

What happened last night outside his house

Too far to go back now

Just wanna feel his hands go down’

~~

taglist: @whxre4cevans, @itsbrittany425, @sweetflowerdreams

[itwoodbeprefect]

Hello, for the WIP game : Several of the Hawaii Five-0 section sound nice... I'll go with #23 because it does sound particularly intriguing!

Steve’s becomes… themed

ooh, another recent addition to the h50 pile! though the idea is one that’s been bouncing around my head for years - and then always ended up going a different direction, which this one already has again too, i think. the “steve’s” here is the restaurant (i forget if canon ever really nailed that down, but we do get steve asking danny to name the restaurant after him (so they can be together forever, you know, like good platonic buddies) so i think it’s at least generally accepted fanon that it’s called that?) and the “themed” is just, well. i think that in canon, at one point, danny says he wants the restaurant to be a place for cops to come hang out and get dinner after their shift? but this is steve and danny, so of course they accidentally open a queer restaurant instead. huge rainbow in the window, cheesecake in the colors of the transgender flag, they adopt half the local teens, that kind of thing. (obviously they keep the restaurant in this version instead of selling to kamekona - i think it would work out a lot better for them if they have a united Cause that distracts them from fighting over the shade of red of the chairs, anyway.)

which is a concept i really like, but it’s also always pretty Big. there’s a lot of stuff i would want to throw into that story, and to avoid starting something Very Long that i’ll never finish because it’s getting Very Long, i end up cutting myself short to keep things manageable and throwing the original idea overboard in the process, which i think might happen again here, but i’m also considering ways i could keep this fic short and set it up as a potential start to a series, so i don’t need to commit but there are still options.

for this particular go at this idea, this is the catalyst:

“Oh, it’s good that you’re both here,” Grace says, when she falls into the kitchen with a slightly chaotic energy. The double doors haven’t had the time to fully swing shut behind her when she follows that with, “I’m a lesbian.”

They were going over the menu - again - and it’s been a pretty boring if hectic day of ironing out the last details before the opening. Steve looks from Grace, hovering so near the door she looks as if she might run right back out, to Danny, who quietly unglues his shoulder from Steve’s and puts down the pen he’s been using to wave far more than write. “Monkey,” Danny says, with a lot of emotion but most of all baffled, and Steve has to agree that these are pretty uncharacteristic nerves for a kid as cool as Grace.

She shifts a little, folds her arms. “Mom already knows. I just wasn’t sure how you’d take it, so-”

“Grace,” Danny says, and this time he sounds like he’s about to cry, but in the next moment he’s around the counter and wrapping Grace up in his arms so tight it’s as if he’s trying to squeeze the thought that he could ever love her any less than he does right out of her.

Steve lets out a deep, shuddery breath, and closes the menu folder. They’re finished for today.

and then there’s some stuff about letter soup (“I tried to get someone to sell me only the LGBTQIA’s, but they don’t seem to do custom letter sets.” / “Right,” Steve says, because what else is he going to say? “And what would you do for the plus, anyway?”), and danny cooking sadness pasta while telling steve he feels like a Bad Dad because he’s known he is bisexual this whole time and if he had been open about it maybe grace’s life would have been easier, and obviously steve goes, paraphrased, “you are very stupid for thinking that you’re not the best dad, stop it”, and then he mentions that at least grace did tell her dad, that she trusted him enough to do that, and that steve never took that step with john - and that’s the story of how half the mcgarrett-williams family came out in maybe an hour.

-

send me the title of one of my WIPs and i’ll tell you something about it or post a snippet!  

[luminnara]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time | Ch 7 18+ NSFW

18+ ONLY PLEASE

Warnings: nsfw, sexy sex, abo, knotting

Part 6 | part 7 | part 8

Tags:  @kyrah-williams williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo @super-cape @ferxaniti @namjoonwatcheshentai @fandomsstolemylife00 @youngblood199456 @nightlygiggless @darlingely @bluemoon-icecream @kaz11283 @jenjen8675309 @dollfacev8 @witchinpractice @mystical-b3ar r @sukeraa @momc95 @book-lover-2006

Bucky was still reeling from finally getting to hear her name. While the omega explored his apartment, he sank down onto his couch, his head buzzing with thoughts of her and him and his past life with HYDRA and how her name felt so, incredibly, impossibly right.

Amoretta.

It didn’t sound familiar to him, and he was pretty certain that he had never known it before. That made him feel a little bit better about everything, a little less guilty for almost completely forgetting about his omega. He hated how much less he remembered about her than she remembered about him, even if it wasn’t his fault that HYDRA scrambled his brain up so much all the time. No matter how many times he told himself that it was okay, that he was already doing his best, he couldn’t help but feel like he was a bad alpha.

But when she looked up at him with that smile and those eyes, so trusting and happy and comfortable...well, a lot of those negative thoughts flew out the window again.

“So you live here? Like, for real? Like, all the time?” She asked as she inspected his tv.

“Sure do.” He chuckled, sitting on the couch to watch her. “Whaddya think?”

She spun around in a little circle, taking it all. “It’s...perfect.”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll have to find some more blankets for you.”

Amoretta paused, looking at him curiously. “For what? I don’t think I could ever be cold with you around. You’re like a furnace.”

“Well...so you can...you know.” He was feeling stupid again. She wasn’t even thinking of nesting with him around, was she?

“So I can what?” She seemed puzzled.

“You know...make a nest…” he mumbled. “Isn’t that what omegas are s’posed to do? I’ve heard Bruce makes them…”

Realization dawned on her and her jaw dropped a little. “Oh. I haven’t gotten to nest in...um...ever?” She laughed. “HYDRA never let me.”

“...oh.” Bucky cleared his throat.

“But now that I’m thinking about it, that might be nice.” She glanced around the room, already looking for a good spot. “Maybe there? Ooh, no, I don’t want it out in the open, do I? Or maybe I do…”

“Hey, FRIDAY?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, Seargent Barnes?” The robot replied, her voice sounding from somewhere in the ceiling.

Amoretta jumped. “Can she see us right now?”

“I monitor everything in this tower,” Friday said. “Tony has designed me to run all necessary systems.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell someone we need more bedding. Blankets. Lots of ‘em.”

“I will let Miss Potts know right away, Seargent.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” He said, kicking his shoes off to rest his heels on the coffee table.

“Of course, Seargent Barnes.”

“So...you’re a Seargent?” Amoretta asked, making her way over to sit on the arm of the couch.

He stretched his arms back behind his head. “Seargent James Buchanan Barnes. World War II. I was with the 107th.”

“Is that how you know Steve?”

He smiled, his head. “Nah. We were always friends. Grew up in Brooklyn together.”

She sat up a little straighter. “Brooklyn?”

“Born ‘n raised, doll.”

“I wanna go!” She bounced down onto the cushion next to him, both hands pressing into his thigh as she suddenly leaned up towards his face. “Please?”

“Uh, sure.” He was a bit taken aback by her sudden movement, but he wasn’t complaining about how close she was now. “Mind tellin’ me why, though?”

“You mentioned it once.” She rubbed her nose against his neck, sighing happily as she scent of cloves filled her senses.

“...I did?”

“Mhm.” Amoretta snuggled up against his side, fitting next to him perfectly. “I don’t remember everything from back then, but I remember that.”

“What’d I say?” He brought on of his arms down to drape around her shoulders, hugging her closer.

“I think I asked you what kind of life we’d have outside of HYDRA.” She rested her cheek on his chest. “You told me we’d live in Brooklyn, in our own house. And…” she trailed off, blushing slightly.

“And what?” He asked, curious.

“You said we’d have lots of pups.” She chewed her lip, looking away from him in embarrassment. “It was probably just your rut talking, though, you know...i-if you don’t want that now, it makes sense. I mean, you’ve got this whole life now, and…”

She trailed off as she noticed that his chest was rumbling with a loud purr. When she finally brought her eyes back up to his face, she saw that he was watching her, features relaxed into a soft, thoughtful expression.

“Do...you want pups?” She asked, heart leaping hopefully.

“Always used to want a whole little family.” He pulled her up to straddle his lap. “Didn’t think I’d get the chance to, but now…hey, I never sired any for HYDRA, right?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good.” He sounded relieved. “That’d be a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“They made sure my heat suppressants kept me infertile.” Amoretta said. “They didn’t have a program for breeding super soldiers ready yet.”

“Good.” He growled. “No pups of mine are ever gonna grow up in a place like that.”

She reached up, running her fingers through his hair. “You really want them now?”

“Course.” He pulled her forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face against her scent gland. “Maybe not, like, now, now, but…with you? I do.”

Amoretta’s eyes widened, a happy little keen leaving her throat. “I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…”

Bucky tugged her back so he could face her. “I’m gonna court you properly. Do it right.”

“But you don’t need to—“

“I don’t care.” He interrupted. “I’m an old fashioned guy. I’m gonna court you.”

She grinned, a hand trailing down the side of his neck. “How old fashioned, exactly?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Too old fashioned to have a little fun?” Her hand slipped down to press against his chest.

His purr turned into a growl, his hands moving to hold her hips. “Doll, all you gotta do is ask…”

Amoretta brought her lips to his ear. “Will you fuck me, Bucky Barnes?”

It only took a moment before his lips were on hers. He was gentle, but he was hungry, devouring her in a kiss that left her breathless and would have made her knees weak had she been standing. With his hands slowly sliding down to her ass, Bucky was perfectly content to take his time; he wanted to feel her, inch by inch, until he had memorized every curve and dip of her body.

Her skin was so soft beneath his callouses. He nudged her sweater up a bit, his hands slipping underneath it to grab at her tits. She couldn’t help but let out a whine against his lips when he brushed a thumb over her nipple, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held him.

When he broke away from the kiss, he gave her lower lip a sharp bite. “Bed. Now.”

Amoretta practically launched herself towards his bedroom, scrambling onto the bed without a second thought. Bucky followed at a much slower pace, enjoying the view as she shed her clothing.

“Hey, maybe I wanted to do that,” he teased, crawling over her. His lips found her neck, his fangs scraping her skin.

“I-I wanted to make it easier for you,” she gasped, back arching as he gave her scent gland a gentle bite.

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart.” His voice was husky and low, his breath hot against her throat. “I wanna enjoy every second…”

She sighed as he nipped and licked at her, her hands slipping under his shirt. Her fingers ran across his abs, feeling the way they flexed beneath her touch as he ground his hips into hers.

“You’re overdressed,” She said, tugging at his hem. “Let me see you.”

Bucky broke away from her neck and grabbed his shirt, shucking it off and tossing it behind him. “Better?”

“Much,” She hummed, taking in the sight of his naked torso.

“Good.” He took hold of her hips, leaving a trail of kisses behind as he made his way down to her pussy. “God, you smell fucking amazing…”

Amoretta trilled happily. “So do y—oh my god…”

His tongue was already lapping at her. She couldn’t remember anyone ever eating her out before, but Bucky seemed determined to make up for lost time. He acted like he was starving, sucking and nipping at her clit while he sank a finger inside of her.

Her hips bucked against him, his vibranium hand holding her down while his human hand played with her. She was already soaked, slick running down her thighs, and her scent was driving him wild.

“Fuck, I want you…” he growled, adding a second finger. “So wet, so willing…and you smell so delicious….” He inhaled slow and deep, savoring it. “I think I’ve missed this…”

“D-do you actually remember all the t-times you rutted with me?” Her voice hitched with little gasps as he stroked her inner walls.

“Yes and no.” He admitted, leaning his cheek on her thigh and looking up at her. “But I know this scent…”

“What scent—ah!” She bit her lip as he crooked his fingers a few times, warmth mounting in her belly. “K-keep going, I’m—FUCK!”

She shuddered as an orgasm rolled through her, electricity tingling in her limbs.

“The scent of my omega, all drippin’ wet, just for me.” He pulled his fingers away, licking them clean. “I wanna fuck you, doll…”

“Please,” she whimpered, scooting back up toward the pillows as Bucky stood.

Amoretta’s eyes were glued to his hands as they unbuckled his belt, his movements quick and determined. He was tired of waiting around. He wanted her now.

As he shoved his pants down off of his hips, she bit her lip again, rubbing her thighs together. She could remember how good he felt inside her, and as she thought about the way he always used to snap his hips into hers, she felt another trail of slick running down her legs.

At the sight of his cock, she was practically a waterfall.

Before he could get back to her, Amoretta was flipping over onto her hands and knees, presenting herself for him with her ass up in the air. She peeked back over her shoulder at him, watching as froze and then stiffened, a low, impossibly loud growl rumbling in his chest.

“Good girl,” he praised her, his cock already rock hard as he crawled across the bed towards her.

Amoretta gave a little wiggle, trying to convince him to hurry up. When his hands grabbed her hips and jerked her back against him, she squealed in surprise, the sound melting into a moan as he rubbed his cock against her.

“Please,” she whined. “Please, please just fuck me, Alpha, I need it…”

“How bad?” He leaned over her, nipping at her shoulder.

“S-so bad, please, just—“

She interrupted herself with another moan, her hands clutching at the sheets as Bucky finally gave her what she was craving so badly.

He pressed himself into her slowly at first, waiting to feel some resistance. She was so soft and warm that he almost came then and there, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he forced his hips to still. Fuck, how could someone feel so good? Her pussy felt perfect around him, gently squeezing his cock as he pulled back out and then thrusted back in, already balls deep inside her. He could tell why he had liked her so much during his ruts, but he had no idea how he could have managed to fuck her for more than thirty seconds during one.

When he started moving again, Amoretta turned into putty. She was absolutely melting, angling her hips so that he could sink in deeper and deeper, slick running down her thighs.

“You like my cock, baby?” He asked, voice muffled by her neck as he dragged his lips over her skin. He wanted to be as close to her as possible, and he didn’t care if that meant both of them being a tangled mess of limbs and sweat. He just wanted her.

“Y-yes, Alpha,” she gasped, slowly sliding down until her chest was squished against the bed. He felt even better than she remembered, his cock rubbing against every single perfect spot inside of her. He was stretching her out comfortably, her slick providing more than enough lube to ensure that his size could never hurt her.

Fuck, he was perfect. He was made for her. They were made for each other.

Bucky was pressed against her back, shielding her with his entire body. He didn’t want anyone else to see his omega. The sight of her there, beneath him, taking his cock so well was for him and him alone, and he was going to make sure it stayed that way.

“Want me to fill you up?” He asked, licking her scent gland.

“Y-yes please,” she moaned, leaning her head back for him.

“Want me to breed you, over ‘n over, ‘til you’re full of pups?” He bit at her jaw.

“Yes!” She cried, whines and trills all flooding from her throat in a symphony of needy sounds.

“Say my name,” he panted, his knot already beginning to swell.

“B-Bucky,” she moaned as she felt it catch on her. Fuck, she had forgotten how good it felt to be stretched and feel it filling her.

He let go of her hips, his hand finding hers. “No, my real name…”

“J-James,” she gasped, intertwining their fingers together. “James…please knot me...”

That was it.

Hearing her gasping and moaning his name sent him over the edge, and before he could stop himself, he was exploding inside of her. He snarled, biting her shoulder again as he held her down, his knot locking him in place as he pressed his hips forward.

Amoretta sighed happily at the feeling, relaxing as Bucky’s weight fell onto her. He was panting hard, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck,” he sighed, kissing the already-healing bite marks on her shoulder. “Sorry ‘bout the bites.”

Amoretta grinned at him as he helped her turn onto her side. “I like your bites.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulled her up against his chest, settling in to wait for his knot to go down once more. “I’ll remember that.”

“Super soldier, remember? Built to withstand you at your roughest.” She snuggled back.

“Guess I’ve got something to thank HYDRA for, after all.” He chuckled, drawing lazy circles on her hip. “You didn’t cum when I was inside you, did you?”

“No, but that’s fine.” She shrugged. “I did before.”

“That’s not enough,” he growled. “If my knot wasn’t so swollen right now, I’d be fucking you until your legs shake.”

“Is that a promise, Sergeant?” She asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“It is.”

“Well, then…” she held his jaw in her hand, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I can’t wait for your knot to go down.”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

For AU Day for @nessianweek I thought I’d test out this College AU that’s been bouncing around my brain because I’m College AU trash that I’m considering writing a proper/chaptered fic for. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Most days, University of Prythian feels like every other public college. All brooding brick buildings and precisely placed green spaces and students loudly milling about in droves. A group of frat boys throwing around a frisbee on the common. A group of girls in bikinis tops taking advantage of the late August sun. Shouts of “oh my god, hey” and “how was your summer” just barely drowning out crying parents dropping their kids off. It’s migraine inducing. 

Nesta throws the car into park, the old Chevy only groaning slightly as it settles after the trek up to campus. She hears the doors open and close, but she just grips the wheel and closes her eyes, taking in three steadying breaths and hoping the oxygen can find a way to calm her spiking blood. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s a new year. After everything that happened last year, technically up should be the only direction. She hopes. Once Nesta feels like she has a hold of her frayed nerves, she slides out of the driver’s seat to find Feyre already excitedly pulling her bags from the trunk, settling them on the pavement next to the car. Elain comes up beside their youngest sister, pulling her own suitcases out. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your dorm, Elain?” 

“I’m in Oakwood this year. It’s not that far a walk.” 

Nesta nods, grabbing the last of Feyre’s bags and closing the trunk. Before Elain can wheel off with her bags, Feyre’s wrapping an arm around each of her sisters’ shoulders, a wide smile plastered across her face under her U of P baseball cap. 

“The Archeron sisters are back together again!” 

“Well, until Nesta graduates,” Elain reminds Feyre. 

“Maybe she’ll do a fifth year, just for us.” 

Nesta just raises an eyebrow at her sisters’ antics. A fifth year? Impossible. Not only because she takes her studies very seriously, keeping her GPA well above the average, but because the idea of spending an extra, unnecessary year in this place sounds like her own personal circle of hell. The sooner she can finish her degree and get on with the rest of her life, the better. 

“Alright,” Feyre concedes. “Bad suggestion.” 

With a wave and a promise to meet up for dinner later, Elain is off towards Oakwood Hall. Nesta hoists one of Feyre’s duffle bags onto her shoulder, following her youngest sister toward her own dorm hall. As she steps up onto the sidewalk, though, her shoulder collides with a firm body, Feyre’s bag almost falling out of her grip. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Nesta seethes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” a voice calls in return, already swallowed up by the groups of students moving in and out of the dorm hall. 

Nesta rolls her eyes at the saccharine nickname, resettling the duffle on her shoulder and catching up to Feyre. Her sister’s dorm reminds Nesta of her own freshmen dorm from back in the day, simple and small, all white walls and plain wood furniture. Despite the things already in the room, Feyre’s roommate is nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you need help with anything else?” Nesta asks, dropping the bag she had been holding onto Feyre’s bed. 

“I should be good. Orientation starts in a few hours.” 

A moment passes as the two sisters stare at one another. They aren’t exactly the most affectionate of families, hugging and that sort of thing. So with a small nod and smile, Nesta is on her way, back out of the dorm hall and to her car. 

Luckily, the off campus apartment she’s staying in this year isn’t that long a drive, and when she walks through the door, Emerie is already inside, leaning against their kitchen counter, a fork poised between her fingers and what looks like a slice of chocolate cake perched on a plate. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Emerie drawls, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives away the teasing nature. 

“Hope you brought enough to share,” Nesta replies, eying up Emerie’s plate. 

“Do I look like I’m made of money? Go to the dining hall and get your own.” 

“When’s Gwyn meant to get in?” 

“Not until later this week. I’m surprised you’re on campus this early.” 

“Feyre has orientation this week. Plus I need to hit up the bookstore. I have Williams this semester.” 

“That man seriously needs to get that stick out of his ass when it comes to having the “right edition” for his class.” 

“Tell me about it,” Nesta sighs, sneaking her hand into the utensils drawer and then snagging a bite of Emerie’s cake before the female has a chance to react. 

“Hey!” Emerie calls after Nesta as she retreats to her room. “You’re lucky I like you, Nesta Archeron!” 

~ * * * ~

The campus bookstore is mostly filled with parents and baby-faced freshmen trying to decide which University of Prythian gear to spend all their money on, but once Nesta pushes back to where the shelves of textbooks live, the throngs of bodies thin out. She can’t help but run her finger along the spines of the books, all lined perfectly along the shelves. Each spine is a different color, a different texture, bold or curvy font declaring its title to the world, and while many are textbooks, that feel under her fingers is still a comfort. Like a heartbeat lives between the soft linen pages and beats in time with her own. 

A turn around the corner and Nesta finds the section of books she needs. She scans the different titles, and when her eyes finally land on the one she needs, she can’t help the long sigh that looses from her lungs. Of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Nesta reaches her arm up, stretching up onto her tip-toes until the pads of her fingers just brush the spine of the book, trying to inch the book closer to the edge where she could get it down. 

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

Nesta falls back on her heels in surprise, the voice and nickname snagging on her memory. She whips her head around to find a guy leaning against the shelf, arms crossed casually across his chest and a smug smile plastered across his face. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dark curls pulled into a bun at the back of his head. Nesta’s eyes can’t help but snag on the lines of ink dancing across the skin of his arms and peeking out of the open cuts of his bro-tank. When her eyes dance back to his face, his hazel eyes are alight like he had clocked and was delighted in what she had been doing. It makes her brain crash back into action, a scowl settling easily across her features. 

“You were the one who bumped into me earlier. Outside of Somerset Hall.” 

“That was you?” the guy asks, not even being subtle as he checks Nesta out. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.” 

Nesta doesn’t even deen that with a response. With a scoff, she turns back toward the front of the bookstore. She can come back later for the book she needs, ideally when this insufferable man with his cocky grins and overconfidence is nowhere to be seen. As she weaves her way through the shelves and toward the exit, she pointedly ignores the heavy set of footsteps she can hear trailing behind her. 

“At least tell me your name.” 

“No.” 

“No? Well that’s definitely an interesting name. My name’s Cassian by the way.” 

“I don’t recall asking.” 

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes were asking for you.” 

That has Nesta halting in her steps. She whirls around and clearly her sudden stop has this Cassian thrown off, his own steps stumbling. Good. She likes having the upperhand. 

“Does that line actually work for you?” 

“Actually, I usually have to use less words. My ruggedly handsome looks do all the talking.” 

“Rugged? Sure. But handsome?” Nesta pointedly rakes her eyes down his figure, and when they meet back with hazel, Cassian’s cock-sure grin slips the barest hint at the corner. “I don’t think so. You looked like you crawled out of a dumpster.” 

Nesta expects his smile to fall fully at the jab, and she hopes it’s enough for him to leave her alone, but instead that smile is still stubbornly there. Even worse, it twists and shifts into a smirk, like this is all some kind of fun game. It makes Nesta’s heart give an extra kick in her chest, and before she can even think about dwelling on what that means, she turns on her heel. 

“Goodbye, Cassian.” 

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” 

~ * * * ~

On Thursday, Nesta finds herself at the dining hall. It’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so luckily the place is blessedly not too crowded, just a few pockets of students talking and laughing at various tables. She’s standing in front of the pastry display when her phone starts buzzing incessantly, and she slides it out of her pocket to find Feyre going off in their sister group chat. 

I just met the most attractive man I have ever seen

I’m not fucking around. HIS FACE 

And he called me darling

He asked me to drinks tomorrow night!

“I personally prefer the blueberry muffins.” 

Nesta snaps her attention to her left to find Cassian standing there, that same wide and cocky grin from the bookstore settled across his face. His hair is down today, soft curls framing his face and brushing against his cotton tee covered shoulders. 

“You again,” Nesta sighs. 

“Isn’t it funny how we keep meeting?” 

“Funny isn’t the word I would use.”

“It’s almost like the Universe keeps pushing us together.”

“Or you’re stalking me.” 

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” Cassian says, tossing a wink Nesta’s way. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“I thought we already established the fact I’m ruggedly handsome?” 

“Pretty sure the only thing we’ve established is that you’re full of yourself.” 

Nesta turns and snags one of the wrapped chocolate chip muffins out of the display case, fully prepared to end this conversation and enjoy her snack in peace. 

“You forgot something the other day, you know.” 

Nesta looks back toward Cassian where he has an outstretched hand between them. There, clutched between his fingers, is the book she went to the campus bookstore to pick up. She blinks a few times at the wide script proclaiming Art Through the Ages, the cogs in her brain tripping over one another and trying to comprehend the sight before her. Her hand begins to reach out to take the book before she snaps it back to her side, her eyes locking back on Cassian’s face. 

“You got the book I needed?” 

“The perfect excuse to find and talk to you again.” 

“Well, I can’t accept it.” 

“Then you can Venmo me,” Cassian says, leaning into Nesta’s space and pressing the book into her hands. “And your Venmo will have your name, won’t it? So it’s a win-win.” 

This close up, Nesta can see all the green vines and gold flecks that make up his hazel eyes. The way his nose sits just off kilter like it’s been broken and set not quite right and the stubble pushing through along his jawline. She can feel the warmth that seems to radiate off his person in rolling waves. It’s a bit overwhelming. 

“It’s Nesta,” she offers, taking a step back. 

“Nesta,” Cassian says, like he’s testing the weight of her name on his tongue. “Well, Nesta, how about that dinner? The offer still stands. Or we could skip straight to dessert.” 

Nesta lets out a snort at the comment. She’s sure the sound isn’t particularly attractive, but she can’t help it. The audacity of this man. 

“Only in your dreams,” Nesta quips, turning on her heel and heading toward the register to pay for her muffin. 

“Is that a promise?”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she swipes her meal card and makes for the dining hall exit. She can feel Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way. 

Later, when Nesta gets back to her room and is thumbing through Art Through the Ages, she finds a note folded up between the pages. She opens up the paper to find an unfamiliar scrawl, simple black lines spelling out ‘Cassian’ and ten digits. She hesitates for only a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash. 

~ * * * ~

Classes start up on Monday, and Nesta is ready to throw herself back into her books, notes, and work. She has a jammed packed schedule this semester, knocking out the rest of her general education credit requirements needed to graduate on time. The perfect distraction to keep her mind busy. At least, she was able to squeeze in enough classes that actually interest her, including a course on Early Women Writers. 

On Tuesday, she walks into the science building and her chemistry class. She finds a lab table a few spots back from the front, settling onto one of the stools. She pulls her textbook and laptop from her bag and is just typing in her laptop password when she feels a presence behind her. 

“I guess I should thank you for coming through on your promise. The best dreams I’ve ever had.” 

Nesta can’t stop the pained sigh that pulls its way out her lungs. She rubs a hand down her face before turning to the right, just in time to find Cassian sliding into the stool beside her. He has another cotton tee on, his hair once again pulled up into a bun style. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking this class.” 

Cassian reaches into his backpack and pulls out his own chemistry textbook, holding it up as some sort of proof. 

“The Universe strikes again.” 

“So you keep saying, but clearly the Universe has bad taste.” 

Cassian throws his head back and laughs at the comment, surprising Nesta with his reaction and earning them a few curious looks from the rest of the class. The sound is deep and warm, seeming to radiate from deep within his chest. His shoulders shake like his large frame isn’t enough to contain the sound, and Nesta finds herself staring at the crinkles that appear beside his eyes. 

“Alright, class. Welcome to chemistry.” 

A hush falls over the whole room as the professor strides in the door and to the front of the room. She hands a small stack of syllabus sheets to each person sitting at the front to be passed back and a blank seating chart to fill in is passed between the tables. The professor goes through the syllabus for much of the allotted class time, and Nesta makes notes in the margins of hers about the grading system and circles the important deadlines she’ll need to remember. 

“I hope you’re comfortable with where you’re sitting and who you’re sitting with,” the professor addresses the class an hour later. “They’ll be your lab partner for the rest of the semester.” 

Nesta wants to groan as she buries her face in her hands. How did this become her life? As if simply seeing Cassian’s insufferable face three times a week for this class isn’t enough, now they actually have to interact and work with one another. If Cassian’s theory about this being the Universe's doing is correct, Nesta is pretty sure the Universe is just laughing in her face now. 

“Well, would you look at that, Nes,” Cassian drawls from beside her. “Another point for the Universe.” 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Nesta mutters from between her fingers. 

“As long as we get to cuddle a little beforehand.” 

“Cute,” Nesta says, putting as much dry sarcasm as she can behind the single word. 

“You know, lab partner,” Cassian offers while he stands up and slings his backpack across his shoulders. “I think it’s going to be a great semester.”

[wyn-n-tonic]

I Don't Count

Word Count: 1,479 Warnings: Drinking. Mentions of a car accident (briefly). Soft caretaker baby Will Miller. It's just fluffy. Author's Note: Fully formed this out of my need for a hug and comfort and decided I wanted to write it for the only blonde haired, blue eyed man I'd ever let get in these guts.

MASTERLIST

The Millers still had a landline. Of course they did. Benny’s big brother was very staunch about his boundaries. If he wasn’t going out after work, his cellphone went off as soon as he walked across the threshold. If you needed to reach him for any reason after that, you could call the house phone.

“But it better be a goddamn emergency,” he’d always say.

She bit her thumbnail as it rang, leg bouncing to a nonsensical rhythm. A drumming only she could hear. Once, twice. It was her last ditch effort to reach her best friend, to hear his voice telling her everything is okay. Three times and,

“Hello?”

Not Benny.

She contemplates hanging up, her voice stuck somewhere in her chest. This was most certainly not an emergency no matter what the bottle she’d been nursing had to say about it. But she can’t. Can’t speak. Not to Will, not about this.

Can’t let the phone fall from her ears. Can’t even breathe.

“Shane,” he sounds concerned, “are you okay?”

“I uh—“ the breath releases, “I was looking for Benny.”

A small laugh on the other end, “it’s Tuesday, Sunshine, he’s at the gym.”

Sunshine, his nickname for her. It started out as Sunshane but he got pissed at the autocorrect of his own brain, stopped fighting it after a while.

A sharp sound rings through, a whistle to get her attention.

“You didn’t answer my question,” it’s warm, “are you okay?”

She sniffs, “yeah, Billy—“

Another laugh, both disbelieving and amused, “you can’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

“Just…” another swig, “have Benny call me when he gets home, okay?”

“Are you drinking?” Not amused.

“I’m an adult, Miller, I drink.” It’s harsh.

“Yeah,” another disbelieving laugh, this time at your boldness, “but you sound like shit. Why are you drinking?”

Because I’m forcing my feelings for you onto others and I have the gall to be shocked when it blows up in my face.

“Look,” she’s pacing the kitchen, “just have Benny give me a call when he gets home. I’m really sorry t—“

“Did that fucking boyfriend do something?”

There it is, the sob she’d been swallowing.

“Give me half an hour,” he whispers down the line, “I’ll have my cell if you need anything, okay?” —————

The bottle’s gone when there’s a knock at the door.

She jumps but settles back against the couch, believing it must be coming from somewhere deep within the wine soaked sponge of her brain.

But there it is again, “it’s me, Sunshine,” coming from the other side.

She stands too quickly, blood rushing to her head as her right foot struggles to come back to life. He knocks again, nothing if not persistent.

“Don’t make me bust down this door, you know I can do it.”

She fumbles with the chain lock with wildly inebriated fingers, scratching desperately with her nails to get it through that little fucking hole. It springs free and she’s working at the deadbolt, much simpler, before throwing the door wide to the man on the other side.

“Would you really have busted down my door, Miller?” She slurs out, ever the lightweight.

He shrugs, “yeah but… I would’ve built you a new one so…”

“What's that?” She notices the bags for the first time, swinging idly at his side.

“I figured you were about halfway through the bottle earlier when you called, based on how the swish of liquid sounded on the pho—“

She rolls her eyes, “it's fucking creepy how you do that.”

“—so I brought cheeseburgers.”

She launches unsteadily toward him, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

“May I come in?”

His scent fills her senses, fresh laundry and a hint of Tom Ford as she nods against his broad chest.

Letting go, she stumbles back into the tiny apartment, the couch taking over the entire wall of the living room, and plops back down with her feet tucked under her as she makes grabby hands for the bag in Will’s hand.

He catches her out of his peripheral while he refastens the lock on the door, “can you be patient?”

“Absolutely not,” she whines out, “I'm starving.”

He toes his shoes off at the door and pads to the front of the couch, in front of her, and kneels down. He reaches into the bag and hands her a burger, “I got you two singles because I know you feel self conscious when you try to eat a double. Even when you’re alone.”

“But I’m not alone,” she mumbles through a bite, wrapper torn in half as soon as it touched her hands.

“I don’t count, I’m just Will.”

She almost chokes at that, because he does count.

“I'm really not trying to deep throat a fucking Big Mac in front of my best friend’s older brother.”

“Oh,” he stands and kisses the top of her head, “Is that all I am?”

Absolutely not.

She watches him walk into the kitchen, the clinking of glass and the sound of the tap rushing back out to meet her.

Thoughts swim in her drunk mind, the events of the day—the phone call, the fight, the follow up text messages. Colin’s raised voice still ringing through her ears as he accused her, “I don’t know if it’s Will or Ben but you’re fucking one of them and I’m done!”

“You wanna tell me what happened?” He’s soft, pulling the wrapper from her hands and pushing a glass of water in place of it.

“Um, ya know,” she swallows hard around the lump building in her throat again, “just what typically happens with men in my life.”

He looks defeated, apologetic. Colin’s not the first to accuse her of being with a Miller. It’s been a theme of the last three—Ryan, John, Adam—and this makes four. Four men that William Miller wishes he could add to his confirmed kills list.

That’s not what she wants to hear right now though, no matter how safe his words of protection always make her feel. Because it doesn’t matter.

“I'm sorry,” his heavy hand falls on the bare skin of her calf, sending a bolt of electricity through her body.

She was relieved.

Colin wasn’t right but he wasn’t far off from the truth she’s been hiding.

She’s in love with William Miller.

“Hey, Sunshine” his rough thumb across the smooth skin guides her back, “where are you?”

The alcohol has her still, a looseness in the hurt of her heart that makes up her mind before she fully realizes the words are already coming out of her mouth.

“He’s not wrong, Billy. None of them have really been wrong.”

He laughs, fingers stilled on her leg and she is aching for the movement to return as his stare seeps through her pores.

“You and Benny got something you need to tell me?”

Her breath is shaky.

She trails her fingers along his wrist before placing her palm on the back of his. Now or never.

“I think it’s more like you and I have something to tell Benny.”

He pulls away, blue eyes piercing through her, “you're drunk, Shane.”

“Just enough to not give a shit anymore,” she whispers, lifting herself up to her knees and pressing closer to him, “I know how we look at each other, Will.”

“Benny will kill us.”

She giggles, “I’ve been to his fights, my money’s on you.”

His heart swells as his laughter jumps up to meet hers. This is the first time they’ve been alone together, properly alone, since he realized his love ran deeper than that of just a friend.

When he realized on the last mission that he just really missed the smell of her hair when she gives him a hug. Or the way she laughs the hardest out of everybody whenever he tells a dumb joke.

He came home and, to stop himself from being reckless, made sure that he was only ever around when Benny was. He didn’t want to fuck up Benny’s friendship, that was something his little brother could excel at on his own.

But now, with her full lips inches from his, he decides.

It’s a decision he made less than an hour ago when her name popped up on the caller ID—she’d only called the house phone one other time, a car accident, and that same worry seeped beneath his skin again.

Her fingers run through the soft hair on the side of his head, his lips heavy against hers as he pulls her in and pushes her down.

He breaks away, “Are you sure?”

A question that dies with a crash as she tugs him back to her and he melts against her warmth when—

Her phone vibrates.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll…

Benny.

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