echo-ethe

[echo-ethe]

Psych (season 4, episode 4): The Devil Is in the Details… and the Upstairs Bedroom

this little interaction between Juliet and Lassiter is KILLING MEEEEEE

like he’s so shocked at that bit of info that he looks at her for confirmation and she’s like ya.. it’s true.

[echo-ethe]

Sebastian and his two girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.

[echo-ethe]

Thinking about how eddie and buck were definitely bedroom kids but chris is so clearly a living room kid and that's the kind of breaking of generational trauma i love to see

[echo-ethe]

When We Touch

Summary: You separated yourself from society years ago. With just a simple graze of the skin, you could see what someone was afraid of the most. At times, it became too much. After some convincing though, Bucky talked you into moving into the New Avengers Tower. While there, you met Bob, who wasn't that much different from you. Things changed, however, when you discovered that you could touch him.

Pairing: Bob Reynolds × enhanced!f!reader

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: Anxiety, anxiety meds, panic attacks, self-deprecating, angst, hurt/comfort, and Bob being inside his head

A/N: Phew, this is the longest one-shot that I have ever written haha. I looove Bob so much and loved creating the reader-insert Terror. There's a chance that this might have a part two, but we'll see... I hope you all enjoy!

Main Masterlist | AO3

××××××

A knock on the door. A minute of silence. Another knock on the door. Maybe if you don’t move, they’ll go away. 

    “I know you’re in there.” 

    You rolled your eyes, groaning as you slammed your book shut and pushed yourself up from your cozy position on the couch. He really picked the best times to drop by. 

    Unlocking the door, you opened it to find Bucky Barnes leaning against the frame, an annoyed expression already plastered across his face. That had to be a new record. You hadn’t even said anything yet. 

    “Can I help you?” You muttered as you turned back into the room, heading towards the record player that was softly playing Litvinovsky. It was hard to appreciate the relaxing melodies when a hundred-and-something-year-old was about to give some kind of lecture, though he swears he’s not the lecture giving type. 

    Bucky rolled his eyes as he stepped inside your cabin, pulling the door closed behind him. “Nice to see you, too,” you heard him grumble under his breath. 

    After turning the record player off, you fished a lighter out from a drawer and headed back to the couch. You sat down, leaning forwards to light the candle that sat on the coffee table. “Hope you like sandalwood. It’s all I got left.” 

    Sitting in the chair that sat diagonally from you, Bucky watched you carefully. You could feel his eyes raking over you, silently checking for any sign that something was wrong. “How’ve you been?” His voice was clear from any annoyance now, making you deflate slightly as you leaned back into the couch, tucking your feet under you. 

    The question lingered in the air for a moment too long for Bucky’s liking. You didn’t look physically hurt, but he knew better than most that the worst pain always came from inside. Living in isolation wasn’t exactly the best medicine for that either. 

    Eventually, your eyes locked with his. “I told you that you didn’t have to keep checking on me, Bucky.” If he didn’t know you, he would’ve missed the plea in your voice. Leave me alone. 

    “Besides,” your voice was lighter now, like a switch was suddenly flipped, “I’m sure Congressman Barnes has more important things on his agenda than keeping a promise for his old best friend.”  

    He raised a brow, scoffing. “I take it you haven’t watched the news?” Bucky questioned, dropping the subject for now. He’d work his way back to it later, when you were ready to talk. 

    Opening the book you were previously reading back up, you shook your head. “Me and news do not mix. News leads to bad news and bad news leads to me being anxious and me being anxious leads to, well, you know.” A lightbulb went off in your head then, making you disregard the book yet again.  

    Bucky watched as you jumped up from your seat and scurried towards the bathroom. “Speaking of, I need more chill pills!” You called out to him.  

    Once you returned, you showed him the bottle, shaking it to prove that you were, in fact, nearly out. “Remind me to call for a pharmacy delivery before you leave,” you sat the bottle on the table before sitting back down. “Which should be soon, by the way.” 

    A sigh left Bucky’s lips, forewarning you that something was coming. Something not good. “I actually came here to ask you something,” he got up from his seat to sit next to you. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, a movement that had become second nature. 

    “I’m not going out with you,” you quickly spat out, earning an airy chuckle out of Bucky.  

    “You wish,” he quipped back. Then the amusement that decorated his features left as soon as they appeared. “I want you to move into the tower. Avengers tower. With me… and a few others.” 

    You sat quietly for a moment, his request registering in your mind as you pieced it all together. He had to be joking. But he wouldn’t joke about something like this. Not to you.  

   Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you gathered your thoughts. “Avengers? I thought… aren’t you supposed to be on Congress?” You finally asked, still reveling in the new information. The Avengers haven’t been a thing in years. Maybe you should watch the news. 

    Bucky ran a hand over his face as he leaned back into the couch more comfortably. “That is… a long story. I’ll tell you all about it on the way there.” He draped his arms on the back of the couch, blowing a raspberry. 

    It still didn’t make sense. “Are you asking me to be an Avenger?” Not even Steve offered that position to you. He knew better than that. 

   Bucky shook his head. “Oh, no, no, no. No,” he clarified as he sat back up. “I just thought that being around a group of screw ups would do you some good.” 

    He had meant for that to be a joke, but judging by the look on your face, it didn’t land. “I can’t.” You shook your head, curling in on yourself. Why would he ask you to do that when he knew? 

    “You can’t keep living like this. No one can go as long as you have without some sort of human interaction. And I don’t count.” Bucky tried, doing his best to make it sound lighter than it was. He needed you to be okay, and it would be so much easier for him—and you—if he could always have his eyes on you. A monthly visit wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be. He could see it on your face, even when you tried to hide it.  

    Tears tried to escape from the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them slip, not in front of him. “I can’t, Bucky. You don’t understand. If I hurt someone—” 

    “You won’t. I’m just asking you to move in, not to be part of the team. I just thought it’d be better than living all alone out in the middle of nowhere.” Bucky’s hand inched towards you, wanting to provide reassurance, but decided against it for your sake.  

    There was a reason why you isolated yourself. To stop seeing the visions. To prevent yourself from hurting someone that didn’t deserve it. That’s why Steve set you up here, because he understood. You never could grasp why he wanted to help you, or why he sent you Bucky when he left. It was better off that you stayed here. 

    But you missed being around people in some kind of capacity. Even when you could no longer touch them. You missed being a part of life. 

    You missed not being so lonely. 

    “Okay.” 

    As soon as your feet hit the ground, you already regretted your decision. Your chest tightened as you stared at the tower before you, your breathing picking up slightly. 

    You need to leave. You need to leave. You need to leave. 

    “Hey.” Bucky’s voice pulled you back into the real world. He lightly placed his hand on your back, offering a reassuring smile. “You’re okay.” 

    Taking a deep breath, you nodded. You could do this. You could do this. 

    You followed Bucky inside, eyes observing the place as you went. It was weird to think that the original Avengers used to stay here all those years ago. Now you lived here. Steve would’ve gotten a kick out of it. 

    The elevator’s doors opened, beckoning the two of you inside. This was really happening. You just couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or not yet.  

    Once the doors opened back up, you were met with a large living area, complete with its own bar. The view outside looked breathtaking just from the elevators. Your internal scale was starting to tip towards the good thing side. 

    Not even a few steps out of the elevator, a large man came out of nowhere to greet you. “Ah-ha! You must be the ‘Terror’ Bucky has told us about!” He welcomed, a cheerful smile on his face. 

    With a furrowed brow, you shot Bucky a look, who was already pinching the bridge of his nose. You haven’t heard the ‘Terror’ name in years. Hopefully, the name wouldn’t stick… again. 

    “I am the Red Guardian,” the man continued with grandiosity, oblivious to the sudden tension that sat between your shoulders. “But you may have the privilege of calling me Alexei Shostakov.” Before you could react, he grabbed your hand to shake it.  

    Standing in a crowd of people and you are just one of them. Nothing more. None of them know who are, or what you have done for them. You will never mean anything to them. 

    You will mean nothing to your little devushki. 

    A small gasp left your lips as you pulled your hand away from him. “Sorry,” you were almost breathless, pulling your sleeves down to cover your hands. It had been a while since you last dealt with the visions. You almost forgot how they felt. “I’m not really big into touching.” 

    Bucky’s eyes were glued on you, waiting for the bomb to go off. You just offered him a small smile, letting him know that you were okay. You could handle it. 

    Alexei raised his hands up in the air. “My apologies, Miss Terror.” Then his face lit up. “Come, come! You must let me introduce you to the others.”  

    “Maybe she should settle in first, Alexei.” Bucky came to your rescue. He was already filling out his role as overprotective big brother. You were grateful, but you shook your head. 

    “No, I’d like to meet everyone. I’m sure Alexei can take me to my room afterwards,” you said, surprising Bucky. His eyes raked over your face, making sure that you were actually good with it, before the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he nodded in understanding. 

    After the okay from the boss, Alexei took you on a grand tour of the tower. He showed you the bar, the balcony, the lab, the area with a huge sectional couch with a nicely sized TV, the training room, and a whole lot of other rooms that you’re not even sure what to call. 

    In the training room was where he introduced you to none other than John Walker, who was accompanied by a woman named Ava Starr. You had heard about Walker’s trial run as Cap from Bucky, and it took all your willpower to not call him the “Great Value brand Captain America.” Bucky said he was still sensitive about it. Ava seemed cool though. 

    You cringed as Alexei introduced you as the Terror, both John and Ava sharing a look of amusement. Yeah, looks like the name was sticking. 

    A word barely left your mouth before Alexei was already dragging you to the next room, his eagerness evident in his movements. He took you into a gaming room, which had an impressively sized air hockey table that was currently occupied by a man and woman. 

    The woman, you find out, is Yelena Belova, who happened to also be Alexei’s daughter. She gave you a friendly wave before turning her attention back to the game at hand. The feeling from earlier returned to your chest as you watched the way he looked at her so lovingly and proudly. His devochka. 

    “And this here,” Alexei gestured to the man on the other side of the table, thankfully taking you out of your head. “Is the great, the all-powerful… Sentry!” His voice boomed, making you flinch slightly. 

    Yelena scored, giving the man a chance to speak. “Actually, it’s, uh, it’s just Bob,” he corrected with a shy smile. “Sentry was kind of a… one-time thing.” 

    You smiled back at him. “Hi, Bob,” you greeted warmly. He waved awkwardly, opening his mouth to say something else, but was distracted by Yelena continuing the game. 

    Alexei, once again, lead you out of the room, going on about how you must see the kitchen. You couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself as you listened to him blather on about something with a Wheaties box. He’s a little overstimulating, you admitted, but it was also like a breath of fresh air. You didn’t realize how much you missed this; being around people. 

    As you rounded the corner, your thoughts were interrupted as you collided with what practically felt like a wall of muscle. “Careful.” You recognized the voice as Walker’s as he steadied you, your hand accidentally grabbing onto his bare arm for balance. 

    You are nothing like him. You are a failure. Everyone sees you, not as America’s hero, but as the man with the bloody shield. Lamar is dead. Olivia is gone. Your son is gone.  

    You will never see them again. 

    “Stop!” The cry left your lips as you ripped yourself away from Walker’s grasp. John backed away from you, raising his hands in surrender. 

    “Okay… What’s her deal?” John questioned, looking to Alexei with a raised brow. The tightness in your chest returned, stronger this time. You closed your eyes, willing it to go away. 

    “She has a ‘no touching’ thing, I don’t know,” Alexei whispered with a shrug. John’s lips formed an ‘o’ as he nodded, giving you a once over before carefully walking around you to continue on his way. 

    When you opened your eyes, you took a deep breath, your nails digging into your palms. “Alexei, I would like to go to my room now. Please.” 

    He did as you asked with no hesitation and took you to where Bucky had already set you up. Alexei informed you where his own room was should you need him for anything and bid you farewell. 

    You wasted no time in locking yourself inside, your back hitting the door as you slid down it to the floor and took out your anxiety meds. The visions were worse than you remembered. It was hard to believe that there was a time where you could handle them. Well, at least better than this anyways. Maybe you over did it today. You needed to ease yourself back into it. Yeah, that’d help.  

    Hopefully. 

    For the next few days, you stayed locked up in your room, much to Bucky’s protest. The reason you were here was so you wouldn’t be alone anymore.  

    Time was what you needed right now. Bucky understood that. Baby steps. 

    Now, you were currently laying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling while Mozart played soothingly in the background. You wouldn’t admit it to Bucky, but you were starting to get stir crazy. Your eyes glanced over to the clock, reading 2:12 AM. 

    It was late. You should just go to sleep. That would be the healthy thing to do. 

    But everyone else was probably already asleep. Leaving the tower to just you. 

    Slowly, you crept out of your room and headed towards the common area. There seemed to be no sign of life as you journeyed through the halls all the way to the balcony. 

    Below, you could hear the nocturnal life of the city. The sound was soothing to your ears as your eyes took in all the lights, the night air causing goosebumps to rise across your arms despite the hoodie you wore. 

    As you stepped back inside, something on the upper level caught your eye. Curiosity took control of your body as you made your way to it. It was just a lounge chair and side table that was accompanied by a small stack of books, a desk lamp, and some leftover trash. 

    You sat down, leaning back into it. It was comfy. Your hand reached out to turn on the lamp, the soft glow adding to the cozy atmosphere. The light brought your attention back to the books.  

    After scanning through the titles, you picked the one that looked the most promising. You thumbed through the pages, inhaling its comforting scent.  

    “That’s a good one.”  

    A yelp escaped your lips as you jumped, the book falling to the floor. Your head snapped up to look at the source of the voice, meeting Bob’s own startled figure. 

    “Sorry!” Bob apologized before cringing at the volume of his voice. “Sorry,” he lowered it to a whisper now. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

    Letting out a breath, you shook your head. “No, no, it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up,” you laughed awkwardly. 

    Bob scratched the back of his neck, forcing a laugh that rivaled yours in awkwardness. “I couldn’t sleep. So, I came out here to… get my mind off… things,” he admitted with a barely-there smile. 

    You nodded. “This is a comfy place,” you commented, your eyes drifting down to the book that laid abandoned on the floor. “Sorry for throwing your book though.” You leaned forward to reach for it. 

    “Oh, no, I got it,” Bob told you as he bent down to grab it at the same time. You barely had time to react, inhaling a sharp breath as you braced yourself when he touched your hand. 

    … 

    Nothing. 

    No vision. No fear. Nothing. 

    Your eyes locked onto where Bob was still touching your hand, who was too scared to move as if he’d somehow hurt you otherwise. It didn’t make sense. Why weren’t you seeing his fear? This hasn’t happened not even once since you got your powers. How was this happening? 

    “Are… you okay?” Bob questioned, slowing retreating his hand as his eyes glanced around, looking for what was causing you to act like this suddenly. 

    The question brought you out of your trance, blinking up at him. “I…” You stood up abruptly, making Bob flinch in surprise. “I’m pretty tired. See you around.” Bob didn’t get a chance to respond before you were already out of sight.  

    Did he say something wrong? 

    Something wasn’t right.  

    That had never happened before. Why did it happen now? It’s never been something that you could control; always against your will.  

    Your mind had been spiraling ever since Bob touched your hand last night. No one has been able to touch you without their fear taking over your every sense since you were thirteen. Why could Bob? 

    Was he somehow the only exception? 

    Or did it go away? 

    You shot up on your bed. Could it have? Is it just gone? Did you just “grow out of it” or something? 

    There was only one way to find out. 

    Quickly, you went out into the hall, eyes bouncing around for a possible target. It was about midday, so there was no telling where everyone was, if they were even home. 

    Luckily, you found Ava rooting around in the kitchen for something for lunch. You haven’t spoken to her, not unless you count Alexei’s embarrassing introduction. She’d have to do. 

    “There it is,” you announced yourself as you reached for your coffee mug that just so happened to be in front of Ava. As you went to grab it, you pretended to trip over your feet and grabbed onto Ava’s hand for support. 

    Pain. 

    So. So. Much. Pain. 

    “Hey!” Ava pulled her hand out of your grasp, looking you up and down with a glare. “Watch it.” Without another word, she walked out the kitchen, leaving you with her pain. 

    It still worked. You saw her fear. It was a long, long shot, but you couldn’t help but feel at least a smidge of hope that you were right. That only left one answer. 

    Bob. 

    It didn’t take you long to find him. He was just sitting on the sectional couch, absentmindedly flipping through channels, nothing holding his interest for long. Nerves clawed up your throat as you thought about what you should say. You’ve never had to deal with this before. Where was Bucky when you needed him? 

    “Hi, Bob,” you called out, maybe just a little bit too loudly. Nonetheless, it got his attention, a small smile gracing his lips. 

    “Hi,” Bob greeted, laying the remote down. He watched you as he waited for you to continue, his eyes uncomfortably glancing to the TV as the silence stretched out. 

    Might as well get it over with. “I was wondering, um, if I could ask you a really weird question?” You rounded the couch, making sure there was enough space between you before you sat down. 

    Bob slowly nodded, so you went on. “Can I,” this was so stupid, “can I see your hand for a second?” 

    He blinked at you for a moment. “…why?” 

     “I just need to see something really quick. But you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable.” You scooted back some, giving him more space. He had to think that you were crazy by now. 

    After a minute of hesitation, Bob offered out his hand and you took that as a yes. You gently grabbed it, again bracing yourself. 

    Nothing. Again. 

    How? 

    “Do you… see anything?” You asked, looking up at him to search for any signs that you accidentally turned it against him. That was the only other explanation, but his eyes were normal. Not black. 

    Bob shook his head. “No…” Then his expression completely shifted into something else entirely as his hand tensed in your grip. “Do you?” 

    It was your turn to be confused. Why would you be seeing something? 

    “No.” You shook your head, noting how he immediately relaxed at your answer. Nothing was making sense now. Your focus shifted back to your hands. Something inside you didn’t want to let go, longing for this closeness that you never thought you’d get again. 

    He was the one that pulled away. “Are you okay?” His voice held the kind of concern that you only heard from Bucky these days.  

    You let out a sigh. “I’m not sure,” you answered honestly. Why you did, you don’t exactly know. Everything was so confusing right now. 

    Again, before Bob could get a word out, you were gone. What was going on? 

    It wasn’t until the next night when Bob saw you again. He was in the kitchen, having finally found the motivation to do the dishes; it was time that he did something useful. 

    You didn’t register him at first as you padded in, your eyes scanning around for something. When they finally landed on him, you paused. Bob wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between the two of you, but he did his best to not let his mind wander. That was why he was busying himself with the dishes. 

    “Have you seen Bucky?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. Your mind seemed to be preoccupied. It probably had something to do with what happened yesterday if Bob had to guess. 

    “They went to go meet Val I think.” Bob answered, using his forearm to brush some of his hair out of his face, his hands wet with water and dish soap. “Yelena said they’d be back later.” 

    Nodding, he watched as your eyes drifted to the still half full sink. “Do you want some help?” 

    The question took you both by surprise. You looked shocked that it came out of your mouth. After the whole weird hand thing, Bob thought that you were trying to avoid him for some reason. He’s been trying to figure out what he did wrong, but maybe he was just overthinking everything. Again.  

    “Uh, yeah, sure.” He scooted over to give you some room. “I wash, you dry?” 

    You offered him a small smile, rolling up your sleeves as you slid in beside him. The two of you silently fell into a rhythm after that, with him washing off the grime on the dishes—a few of them a bit concerning—and you drying and stacking them. It felt… nice. 

    The sound of the clanking dishes filled the silence between you, creating a soothing atmosphere. Bob couldn’t help but spare a few glances your way, a question on the tip of his tongue. Hopefully he wouldn’t screw it up. 

    “So… why do they call you Terror?” Bob tried his best to make it sound nonchalant, forcing his gaze to stay on the stubborn spaghetti sauce stain on one of the plates. 

    When you didn’t answer right away, Bob internally kicked himself. He should’ve just kept his mouth shut. 

    However, you just let out a small huff, shaking your head. “It’s just some stupid code name SHIELD had for me,” you shrugged. “Steve would call me it as a joke and Bucky just ran with it.” 

    Bob’s brows raised up in surprise. “Steve as in the original Captain America, Steve?” He didn’t know how you knew Bucky, but he certainly didn’t think it was because you were mutual friends with the Captain America. 

    You nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, he… helped me. Got me out of a bad situation.” Bob noted as your face fell for a brief moment, your movements nearly non-existent on drying the dishes as you contemplated something. “I… When people touch me, I can see their fears. And if I wanted to, I could paralyze them with it.” 

    The realization kicked in then, Bob’s mind going back to you holding his hand. He swallowed hard. “Did you—” 

    “It doesn’t work on you,” you cut him off immediately. Your eyes locked with his. “For some reason, I can’t see your fear. I haven’t been able to touch anyone without seeing their fear since I was thirteen, not until I met you.” You turned away, picking back up where you left off with the dishes.  

    “Oh,” was all Bob could manage to say. It was the only thing he could think to say. That was why you were acting weird. You didn’t hate him after all. A tension he didn’t realize he was holding fell away from his shoulders. That was good. 

    Neither of you said anything for the next few minutes, letting your words sink in fully. The atmosphere felt a bit more suffocating now, more questions hanging in the air. What was Bob supposed to do with this information? What were you going to do with it? This was why he didn’t do the dishes. 

    “Your turn,” you finally spoke, tossing your dish towel on the counter. “Why did Alexei call you Sentry?” You spared him a glance before taking the stacked dishes and started putting them up in the cabinets.  

    A nervous chuckle bubbled out of Bob’s throat. “It, uh, it’s a long story.” He tried to brush it off, but when he went to hand you another bowl, he found you staring at him expectantly. Well, it was only fair he guessed. “It was the name of the serum that gave me... godlike... powers,” he swallowed. 

    It was your turn to be surprised. “Okay, that sounds awesome,” you laughed. Bob tried to laugh with you, but it came out sounding more like he was being strangled, which you picked up on immediately. “Why was it a one-time thing?” 

    Bob grabbed one of the hand towels to dry his hands and to have something to fiddle with as he sighed. “I can’t be Sentry without risking a... darker part of me... coming out.” There was no way in hell that he’d chance that happening again. Not if he could help it. 

    You reached out then, your hand hesitating just before you could touch his arm. He didn’t dare to move, not wanting to scare you off. Eventually, you lightly grabbed his arm, giving him a comforting squeeze. Though, Bob felt that the action was more for you than it was him. 

    Before you could say whatever was on your mind, the sound of the elevators opening stopped you, followed by the cacophony of annoyed and exasperated voices. You pulled your hand back, pulling your sleeves down.  

    Bob’s gaze never left where your hand used to be. 

    Bucky noticed that there was something going on between you and Bob over the next couple weeks. On the days when you decided to leave your room, you always seemed to gravitate towards Bob. It was nice to see you finally engage with someone that wasn’t him, but he couldn’t help but feel that something else was at play. 

    He knew better than to say anything. God, did he know. As soon as he said something, you would cut yourself off. You didn’t like for anyone to get too close. It was a self-preservation tactic that you had developed years ago, before you even met Steve. No one could blame you though. 

    Besides, you looked… happier. And he couldn’t risk screwing with that. 

    You knew Bucky knew something was different. It was in the way his eyes would narrow every time you started laughing at whatever with Bob, the subtle smile that would form across his lips. You were grateful he didn’t question you about it. When you felt it was right, you’d tell Bucky about your discovery. Until then, it was just a secret between you and Bob. 

    Your relationship with Bob grew stronger every day. There was no fear aching in your bones while you were near him. You didn’t have to worry about not touching him or accidentally hurting him. It felt like a breath of fresh air. 

    By befriending Bob, you also vaguely befriended Yelena by association. She was funny and surprisingly kind. There was a special platonic bond between her and Bob, something that you could obviously see that Bob held close to his heart. Whatever they went through, it welded them together, which you secretly admired. 

    Throughout the next few weeks, you learned a lot about each other. Bob told you about his past addictions and how they drove him to signing up for the clinical trials. He also told you about how he’d have a high followed by a low and how he’d have a lapse in his memory afterwards. You confided in him about how everyone’s fears would seep into your skin as if they were your own, how you were terrified of accidentally hurting someone because you couldn’t always control it. He felt like your missing twin flame. 

    Neither of you had a good relationship with your parents, though you’re sure he won that one. Bob said very little about them when it was brought up, but you could feel that there was a trauma there that would unfortunately be forever forged into his soul. It made you feel better about your situation. 

    Bob was so confused by you. Nothing could’ve prepared him for you. You were just so… different than him. But you were also just the same. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. 

    Somehow, you understood how his mind worked. You just met each other over a month ago, but it felt like you’ve known each other for years. It was almost scary how well you could read him. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. For your sake, he hoped he was wrong. 

    Then today happened. 

    The two of you were playing with some Uno cards you had brought with you at the kitchen table. Everything was going fine, even as you laughed when you drew another draw four card—he was sure you were hiding them up your sleeves at this point. You had told him Bucky refused to play this with you anymore and he was starting to see why. 

    Suddenly, Walker came in with Yelena hot on his tail. They were bickering on about something that had apparently happened while they were away on a mission. From what Bob could gather, Walker didn’t do what he was supposed to, and Yelena was calling him out on it. He could believe that. 

    It was when Walker abruptly turned on his heel to put his finger in Yelena’s face that Bob started to feel something stir in his chest. His fingers gripped onto the cards tightly as he tried to block it out. They fought all the time. No one was going to get hurt. It was okay. 

    But it was the fact that they were in the kitchen. Yelling loudly. It was too familiar.  

    His breathing picked up slightly, his hand trembling as he placed down a card. He wasn’t even sure if it was the right one. Everything started to blur, making it difficult for him to focus on what was happening.  

    He was okay. He was okay. They were okay. They were okay. 

    Just as he was about to stand up, a hand on his knee stopped him.  

    “Can you take this somewhere else please? We’re in the middle of something.” You briefly glanced up at them, drawing some cards from the deck.  

    Yelena turned to glare at you, but her retort died on her tongue once she saw Bob’s face. Bob attempted to give her a small smile to let her know that he was okay, but she saw through it immediately. Walker was still going on about whatever, which just made Yelena roll her eyes as she yanked him out the room.  

    It wasn’t until their voices were out of earshot that you finally let go of his knee, giving him a final squeeze before straightening up the deck as if nothing happened. Bob just stared at you, confused. How did you do that? 

    You just smiled mischievously at him, placing down a draw two.  

    “Uno.” 

    “This is a bad idea.” 

    Bucky sighed, placing his hands on his hips. “You’re the one that wanted to do this.” 

    Your eyes glanced between him and Walker. “I didn’t know you were bringing him in on it.”  

    “I can happily leave,” John spoke up, throwing his thumb over his shoulder. So, Bucky was making him be here. Yeah, this wasn’t what you had in mind. 

   “No.” Bucky gave him a pointed look. “He’s here because you already know what he’s afraid of. That way, it can’t catch you off guard,” he explained.  

    You shook your head. “That doesn’t make it any easier,” you scoffed. It would still feel the same, no matter how many times you touched him. 

    “Do you want to build up your tolerance or not? Because I need to know right now.” Bucky stepped closer to you, searching your eyes for just the slightest hint of hesitation. There was no going back once you started.  

    After a moment, you took a deep breath and nodded. You needed to do this. Might as well be now. 

    Taking a step back, Bucky readied himself and nodded at Walker, who just rolled his neck. This was so not what you had in mind. 

    “Let’s see what you got, Terror.” 

    Bucky approached you first, swinging at you with his right hand, which you easily dodged. He was obviously going easy on you, but you didn’t have it in you right now to point it out. It was probably for the best. You were rusty after all. 

    He started throwing punches as he tried to close in on you, making you back up as you continued to dodge. You only ever went on the defensive, not confident in your own swings. Besides, when you can paralyze someone with fear, it’s not really necessary. 

    It caught you off guard when he grabbed your wrist as you tried to block a hit. You sucked in a breath as you stumbled in his grip. 

    They’re still out there, waiting for you to get comfortable before they strip your soul again. You are a weapon. You will be nothing more than the Winter Soldier. Your past will catch up with you eventually and you deserve it. Steve was wrong. You are… 

    Who are you? 

    You kicked his abdomen, forcing him to let you go. Your fingers twitched as your breath caught in your throat for a moment. You already knew Bucky’s fear, but it didn’t stop it from startling you. But you were okay. 

    Which made you cocky.  

    Bob was on the way to his reading spot when he heard a commotion in the training room. His curiosity took over him, making him peak his head in to see what was happening. He was surprised to find you sparring with Bucky and Walker, especially with both of them making skin on skin contact with you. 

    Something stirred in the pit of Bob’s stomach when Walker grabbed onto your arm, swinging you towards the wall. A surge of protectiveness flowed throughout his body. Did they not understand what them touching you did to you? Surely Bucky did. 

    However, before Bob could say something, you pushed off the wall and elbowed Walker in the ribs then kneed him in the chin. Bob’s eyes had to be popping out his head. He didn’t know you could do that. 

    The smirk that adorned your face at your accomplishment made something else entirely stir in Bob’s stomach, spreading up to his chest. God, he hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

    With your attention on Bucky, Walker took the opportunity to rush up behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Try getting out of this one,” he muttered, his annoyance evident in his tone and how tight he held you against him. 

     You’ll never see your son again. You’ll never be his father. 

    You squirmed under his grip, even trying to step on his foot but to no avail. He wasn’t letting go of you. You were trapped. 

    Olivia wants nothing to do with you. She was the only person that would ever love you. 

    Something squeezed your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. Your vision spotted as panic set in. Panic was not good. 

    “John, let her go!” Bucky shouted, rushing towards you. Or was he moving away? Was that even his voice? Your consciousness faded in and out.  

    You could feel yourself slipping out of control. That couldn’t happen. Please, don’t let it happen. 

    It would be better for them if you were dead. 

    Oh no. 

    A blackness clouded over your eyes as you continued to thrash in Walker’s arms. Before you could stop it, the fear you felt in your chest seeped into Walker, his own eyes turning an inky black. 

    With a sharp intake of breath, Walker let you go as his arms fell numbly to his sides. You fell hard and scrambled away from him as far as you could manage. 

    Everything was still going in and out as you tried to steady your breathing. This shouldn’t have happened. Why did you agree to this? 

    Bucky crouched down next to you, trying to make eye contact even as your eyes darted around the room frantically. “Hey, hey. You’re okay. You’re okay. I need you to snap John out of it. Can you do that?” His own voice held an edge of panic that only added to your own. 

    Shutting your eyes tightly, you took deep breaths to calm yourself down. You counted backwards in your head, doing your best to keep your heart from exploding. If you didn’t get a grip, John’s own heart would give out soon from fear. 

    Someone calling your name softly made your eyes snap open. You made eye contact with Bob, who hovered a few feet away from you. How long had he been here? That wasn’t important right now. You had to help John. 

   Inhaling through your nose, you did your best to even out your breathing. You just needed to calm down a little bit. That was all.  

    Shakily, you pushed yourself off the ground, grabbing onto the wall for support. Bob went to help you, but Bucky held out his hand to stop him from getting any closer. You nodded, letting him know that you could do it on your own. 

    You made your way to John, whose eyes were still black with silent tears slipping out the corners of them. After taking one more deep breath, you placed your hand on his cheek. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes slowly going back to normal as your own went black once again. His fear flooded throughout your body, but you refused to let go. 

    Gasping, John finally snapped out of it and fell away from your touch, hitting the ground. His eyes darted around the room as he struggled to breathe, his hands trembling from the residual fear that still lingered in his system. Bucky dropped down next to him, checking him over. 

    Tears pricked at your eyes. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized as you took a step towards him. “I didn’t mean—” 

    “Don’t.” John managed to spit out, raising his still trembling finger towards you. “Get the hell away from me!” 

    Bucky tried to calm him down, telling him it was just an accident, but not even you could bare to listen to him. The tears fell then as you made a break for it, pushing past Bob on your way out. You could hear him call your name again, but you couldn’t risk stopping now. 

    The walls started closing in on you as you tried to get to your room quickly, your air once again coming in short gasps. Once you thankfully made it to your room, you didn’t even bother to close the door behind you and headed straight to your meds. Your hands trembled while you attempted to unscrew the lid, only to realize it was empty. You were so preoccupied with everything else going on that you forgot to remind Bucky to renew your prescription. 

    Your legs wobbled as they carried you to the bathroom, your hand reaching for the sink to turn it on. You splashed some water on your face, both the sensation and sound of running water helping you breathe better. But it wasn’t enough.  

    You turned the sink off before turning to the shower, stepping in to it. The faucet squeaked as you turned it, the cold water immediately causing a shiver to run down your spine. When the water warmed up enough, you slid down the wall and sat on the shower floor as the water soaked your clothes. You continued to take deep, shaky breaths as you held your knees to your chest.  

    There was a knock on the bathroom door a few minutes later. The last thing you needed right now was a “comforting” lecture. You tried to ignore it, but there was another knock. “Go away, Bucky.”  

    A moment of silence followed, making you think he actually listened until he spoke. “It’s Bob.” 

    Lifting your head, you stared at the door. What was he doing here? He saw what happened. He knew what you could do, how you could hurt people. Yet he was here. 

    “Come in.” 

    Bob slowly opened the door and stepped in, closing it softly behind him. His eyes danced around the room before they finally landed on you. For a moment, you just stared at each other, not saying a word.  

    It took you by surprise when he stepped into the shower and sat down next to you. His hair stuck onto his forehead as his clothes soaked up the water. He still didn’t say anything, just sat beside you while you tried to regain control. 

    You focused on his face, doing your best to read him. His brows were furrowed together, looking like he was internally piecing together what he should say. The crease between his brows shouldn’t have been as endearing as it was, especially right now. 

    Bob turned to look at you then and offered his hand out to you. Tears pooled in your eyes again as you stared at it for a moment. When you eventually took it, a sob wracked your whole body. He gently pulled you into him, his arms holding you tightly as you sobbed into his shoulder. 

    The last time you were able to be held by someone felt like an entire lifetime ago. It was obvious to yourself how much you craved skin on skin contact, but you didn’t anticipate this reaction out of you. Bob didn’t let go, his hand gently stroking your back. He out of all people knew how much you needed this. 

    “You’re okay,” he whispered. You gripped onto him like he was your lifeline. Maybe he was. 

    He continued to hold you as water poured on top of both of you. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but you never wanted to let go. 

    You never wanted to let Bob go. 

    And he was okay with that. 

    Bob was flipping through a magazine while sipping on a milkshake in his cozy corner when Yelena stopped in front of him. He didn’t even get a chance to greet her before she started talking. 

    “I found a cool book thrift store you should totally take your girlfriend to.” 

    A warmth crept up Bob’s neck. “I-I, she… She’s not my… S-she’s not my girlfriend,” he sputtered, closing his magazine. Why would she say that? 

    Yelena smirked. “Yet, you knew who I was talking about.” Bob’s face had to rival Alexei’s suit by now. “I overheard her saying she was feeling suffocated to Bucky. It’s the perfect opportunity.” 

    He shrugged. “I’m not sure if me being out on the street is a good idea.” He hasn’t left the tower since they all moved in. There were too many risk factors. What if something happened? What if the Void got too loud? What if he hurt you? 

    Snapping fingers suddenly appeared in front of his face. “No, no. Do not do that. We do not say bad things about ourselves, only nice things. Remember, Bob?” Yelena chastised. He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he looked down at his lap. 

    She bent down until she was level with him in the chair. “Look, Bob. I think it’s nice that you and Terror girl get along good.” Yelena offered him a small smile before her face morphed into one of mock seriousness. “But if you make me have to watch you two make puppy dog eyes at each other anymore, I’m going to throw up.” 

    Bob chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. Yelena took that as a good sign and patted his knee. “Now get out of here,” she gestured with her head to the side. 

    With that, Bob got up and went to find you. He fiddled with his fingers as he practiced in his head what he was going to say to you. It shouldn’t be hard. There was no reason that he should be nervous. It wasn’t like it was a date... or was it?  

    That thought made him stumble over his feet. Was it a date? No, it was just asking a friend to go hang out. It didn’t have to be more than that. But what if you say no?  

    What did Yelena talk him into? 

    He eventually found you in the game room attempting to play Galaga while Alexei was going on about something beside you. You just hummed along to his storytelling, occasionally asking a question to clarify something without ever taking your eyes off the screen. It wasn’t until Alexei interrupted his own story to acknowledge Bob that you looked away and locked eyes with him. Well, it was now or never. 

    “H-hi,” Bob sputtered, cringing at himself. This was stupid. 

    You smiled softly at him. “Hi, Bob.” Your smile caused a surge of confidence to flow through him. He could do this. 

    “I was... There’s an old bookstore that I wanted to check out,” he started, wringing his hands. “Would you like to go with me?”  

    A flash of hesitation danced across your features, making Bob feel bad for a moment. He should’ve considered how you felt being in public, especially with what happened with Walker last week. His fear of rejection was immediately replaced with guilt. But before he could backtrack, you beat him to it. 

    “Yeah, I’d like that. Let me go change.” You turned to tell Alexei to remember where he left off and that you’d pick up with him another time before leaving, smiling at Bob again as you went by. Now his heart was beating faster for a different reason. 

    Once you were gone, Alexei enthusiastically gave Bob two thumbs up. “About time!” 

    The bookstore was somewhat small, but it just added to the comforting atmosphere. There was classical music playing in the background as the smell of old books filled the air. It was like a slice of your own personal heaven.  

    Neither you nor Bob said much as you both flipped through books, slowly adding to the stack that was starting to build up. Luckily, this was going on the New Avengers card, even if Val didn’t know anything about it. 

    You occasionally glanced over whatever book you had in your hands to look at Bob, who had that crease between his brows again as he read the back of some historical book. Something changed between the two of you after that night in the shower. Well, at least something changed within you. It was hard to tell how Bob felt about it. He never brought it up afterwards, but to be fair, neither did you. 

    “I never thanked you,” you found yourself saying aloud as you put your book back on the shelf.  

    Bob looked up at you, the crease even more prominent between his brows. “…for what?” 

    With a shrug, your hands began to fiddle with your sleeves. “For the other night. I just… thank you.” You then gestured to the store around you. “And thank you for getting me out of there.” 

    A light red dusted across Bob’s cheeks. “I, uh, I get it.” His eyes casted downwards. “You would’ve done the same,” he tried to shrug it off.  

    Silence fell between you again for a moment before you turned to look at your collective stack of books. “I think we got enough to tide us over for a bit,” you laughed softly. 

    He laughed with you. “I think you’re right,” he agreed, placing the book he had back on the shelf before picking up your stack. You followed him to the counter, your eyes drifting to the streets as he paid for them. There was a good amount of foot traffic tonight.  

    “Ready to go?” Bob turned to you with the bag of books in his hand, gesturing to the door with his head. You nodded and went to hold the door open for him on your way out. 

    The night had brought a light chill with it, making you thankful for your extra layers. People were rushing along on either side of you, sometimes bumping into you as they passed. Luckily, none of them made contact with your skin, but it still made you feel a little overstimulated. 

    When someone knocked into you again, you inched closer to Bob, bumping your shoulder with his. He glanced over at you, shifting the bag to his other hand. “You okay?”  

    You gave him a thin-lipped smile in return. “I’ll be fine.” If anything, you were just getting annoyed. They could at least excuse themselves. 

    He nodded, turning back to face the street ahead. You continued to stay close to him, your hands accidentally grazing each other’s as you walked. It was hard not to think about it when his skin barely touched yours. You didn’t realize how touch starved you were. Or maybe it was just him. 

    After your hand hit his for the third time, Bob interlocked your hand with his, giving it a comforting squeeze. You felt your heartbeat pick up as you refused to look at him. From the corner of your eye though, you could see Bob’s face turn a light shade of red. 

    Bob still held on to your hand, giving himself the excuse that he was just helping you feel better. There was definitely no underlying reason. Not. At. All. 

    Up ahead at a bar, Bob watched as a big group of young men loudly busted out the doors and started to quickly head your way. Bob swiftly pulled you off the street into the nearby alleyway, caging you between him and the wall. The group ran by, laughing and shoving each other around. 

    Your breath caught in your throat. Bob’s warmth immediately enveloped you, making something flutter in your stomach. His head was turned as he watched the group go by, giving you an up close view of his side profile. He was beautiful. You’ve never been this close to him before, not like this. What happened in the shower was one thing, but this was totally different. You could feel his chest move against you as he breathed heavily. 

    “That was…” Bob whipped his head to look at you, but froze once he realized how close he was. “…close.” The warmth of his breath spread across your face, making your own hitch. 

    Everything seemed to slow down around you as you both stared at each other. Bob’s eyes glanced down at your lips, and you suddenly really wanted him to kiss you. This couldn’t be happening. You were friends… right? 

    Slowly, Bob’s head dipped down, hesitating just before his lips could touch yours. You met him the rest of the way, capturing his lips with your own. A fire bloomed inside you, heat spreading through your chest when Bob deepened the kiss even more. Your hands grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. His lips were soft against yours, careful not to hurt you, but eager all the same. 

    The bag of books slipped from Bob’s grasp as he reached up to cup your cheek, running his thumb across your jaw. He wanted to be as close to you as possible. When your own hands drifted up to his neck, a small moan escaped his lips. God, he could get high just off you. 

    But when there’s a high, there’s always a low. 

    Suddenly, Bob pulled away, panting heavily. Your hands fell from his neck, your brows furrowed in concern. “I-I think…” He tried to catch his breath. “We, uh, we should probably get home.” 

    Before you could say anything, Bob backed away from you, picking up the bag as he did so. He awkwardly gestured for you to go ahead of him. You stared at him, confusion and hurt evident in your body language. 

    You eventually stepped back onto the street, hugging your arms tightly against yourself. Bob followed behind you, keeping a safe distance all the way back home. He internally cursed himself, but it was for the best. For your sake. 

    After all, Bob destroyed everything that he touched. 

××××××

[echo-ethe]

buck trying to prove a point to show that he and eddie are just friends so he full on flirts with eddie. eddie who has never been the target of buck's intentional flirting is speedrunning his gay realization and getting all flustered, staring at buck with his big brown bambi eyes and flushed cheeks. cue buck getting flustered too because his plan is backfiring so hard right now

[echo-ethe]

a fun thing about buddie is that i think if eddie came out to buck, it would (to buck) just solidify that eddie is not and has never been an option for him. eddie likes men, and eddie told him that this changes nothing when he came out. so it can't change anything. it won't.

meanwhile, to eddie, coming out to buck would essentially be a love confession. because if he wants men, of course he wants buck. that goes without saying (it does not).

[echo-ethe]

obviously calling buck a deadbeat dad in the grocery store ("do you know how much chris misses you" ) was eddie using chris as an excuse to not have to say do you know how much AYE miss you. but to the extent any of that was actually about chris... how much of that was just eddie's internalized self-hate and guilt being projected as anger at buck. because buck didn't actually owe it to chris to be a constant in his life. it's giving just started dating a single dad ''you can't take becoming part of his life lightly, he can't lose another parent figure'' vibes, which isn't the situation here (or is it... 🤔). but eddie's the one who DID leave chris, as his actual parent, so he's very aware of the fact that BOTH of chris' parents failed him at different points, which is why he's so sensitive to buck doing it to him again. which is a completely unfair thing to put on buck, as dads friend from work of 1.5 years.

but where it gets delicious, in their classic freak4freak manner, is that buck AGREES with him. and very sincerely apologises for being a deadbeat partner/dad to eddie and chris. again, i cannot emphasize this enough, as dads friend from work of 1.5 years.

[echo-ethe]

i’ve been thinking more about john’s heavily implied social anxiety and its made me look at tfatws through a whole new lens.

john tried to be friendly with sam and bucky but they weren’t into it. imagine john sitting there overthinking everything he said to them and having the “why can’t i be normal? what the hell is wrong with me?” spiral

and that’s so sad because john wasn’t really the problem at first, steve was. bucky and sam’s disapproval of john wasn’t really because of who he was, it was because of who he wasn’t. they didn’t have any issues with him personally

and i feel like that lack of validation was made worse by his anxiety and that’s what prompted him to seek it in other places. specifically approval from the government which is why he wanted to stop the flag smashers his way. not for fame or medals, just to be told that he did something right for a change. obviously it didn’t go down that way and i think that’s what makes him so tragic. he wants to do the right thing but his self worth and mental health is in such a low state, hes willing to do it in any way possible, which is what leads to him doing the wrong thing in such a public way

john walker you are so special to me. he is flawed but SO human. and i think he represents how the military take advantage of young men looking for purpose and put them through hell. and then throw them out when the effects of that trauma start to manifest

[echo-ethe]

Imagine Chimney going through Bobby's desk in his office. Having to clear personal things out. It breaks his heart, but also warms him because the captain was sentimental.

Then he comes across a small blue book labeled simply "Buck." Curious, he opens and flips through it.

Kid has eating problems. Will forget to eat when stressed. Feed him, and encourage him to cook, because he likes to taste-test a lot.

Chimney remembers that. Buck mentioning getting so hungry the starving pains go away. He does remember during the shitty times when Buck lost so much weight.

-Loves carbs

-Hates Okra

-Probably allergic to shellfish and mangos. Encourage him to get an allergy test

-Allergic to Naproxen

-Allergic to heavy fragrance laundry detergents. Use gentle.

-Remind him he's doing a great job. Use positive reinforcement.

-If he's depressed, as Maddie says, hand him a child. May and Harry work too.

-He's finally gaining weight! :)

-The Buckley parents are banned. Do not ask why. Firehouse is his safe area.

-He fidgets when he's stressed. Have him chop some vegetables or prepare them for you. He loves being helpful.

-He loves his clipboard. Have him organize important events. Give him gold stars. Do not let Hen and Chimney hide it. He gets sad.

-Remind him not to read too close or in the dark. He's gonna need glasses at this point. (If he does, don't let others tease him. Tell him he looks great)

-He doesn't admit it, but his leg still bothers him. Heating blankets are in the closet in the office. Have Eddie massage his leg or send him home early if he's obviously struggling.

Chim laughs. He laughs, and laughs, and starts to cry. Of all things, he did not expect to find a "How to Take Care of Your Buck" guide hidden away in Bobby's desk.

[echo-ethe]

voicemail, vase, vigilante (matt murdock/reader)

a/n: i wrote this to procrastinate writing another fic im so sorry dex and finished SO QUICK so here it is : ]

summary: you drunkenly confess your feelings to your boss over the phone, so naturally, the next step is breaking into his apartment to delete the voicemail. easy enough, except someone else's already climbing in through the window. (ao3 mirror)

tags: crack, fluff?, lot of swearing, breaking and entering, black suit matt

You shouldn’t be drinking in the office. You know this, it’s against every code of conduct. But fortunately for you, Nelson & Murdock is so piss-poor from all the pro-bono cases that no one can afford to even think about an HR department. So here you are: in Matt Murdock’s pristine little corner, swinging around on his chair at 11:30 PM, on your fifth—no, sixth —leisurely pour of whiskey from the office stash.

“You have to stop leaving this in your desk,” you grumble at his nameplate. “Enabling my workplace mistakes…”

Not that he’s here to argue. You don’t even remember why you’re here. Blah, blah, finishing filing motions? Or pretending to file motions while fantasizing about your hot, way-too-intimidating boss?

Ugh. There it is again. Matt. Your Problem with a capital P. It’s one thing to have a silly little crush; it’s another thing to fall violently in love with a man who calls you “Miss” and listens so carefully when you’re talking about mundane stuff, like your cat’s urinary crystals. Well, he doesn’t have a choice there really, but he’s listening so intently all the same. He told you that, didn’t he? I like listening to the sound of your voice. A smooth fucking line that, undoubtedly, he must use on all the women in his life. 

You’re doomed, like, comically, biblically doomed.

The whiskey is full of suggestions now, so the next thing you know you’re accidentally (accidentally is debatable) pressing and holding his name in your contacts and recording a voicemail with all the restraint and self-control you can muster, which is none.

“Hey, big boss. You like listening to my voice so much, here’s something to listen to. I love you, Matt. I know it’s stupid. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if I wasn’t your secretary but I really, really—hic—love you. Your voice is nice. Your face is nice. Your... suits ? God, what’s wrong with me? And– and you know that fur on your throat when you haven’t shaved for a while, I kinda want to pet it. Do you think you and my cat would get along? Anyway—hic—okay, bye forever.”

And then you hang up.

“Fuck,” you say, very calmly. Then, “FUCK.”

Panic hits you like a semi-truck. You’re staring at your phone in horror, and you almost throw it against the wall but catch yourself last minute because you realize it’s not even your phone or even your dignity that’s on the line. It’s your paycheck. It’s also still open to Matt’s contact.

“Okay, okay. We can fix this,” you whisper, although your vision’s spinning. You remember—he left early today. Said something vague about not feeling well and forgetting his phone. Which means…

He’s probably asleep. And with luck, he hasn’t heard the voicemail yet.

You stand. The room swims dramatically, but what matters is you know where he keeps his spare key; of course you do. Yes, you occasionally handle his dry cleaning, and you’re the one who suggested switching the key’s hiding spot from his horrible taped-under-drawer idea to the fire extinguisher near the breakroom. 

So naturally, the next step is breaking into his apartment to delete the voicemail.

You tell yourself you’re doing this for professional reasons. It’s about dignity. It’s about damage control.

In fact, there’s a lot of things you’re telling yourself as you find your way out, out of the office then running, less drunk now and more fucking scared, turning streets and streets then stopping, then you’re fumbling with Matt’s building’s security buzzer, then you’re climbing up the stairs and panting, then you’re at his door, then– then– you’re inside.

It’s dark, of course. And tidy and fucking large. There’s a very real chance he’s sleeping out here somewhere, but the bedroom’s to the end of the hall and thankfully, the sliding door’s closed. You try to kick off your shoes so you don’t clomp around like a horse, but your coordination is shot, so you just stub your toe on something—a credenza?—and hiss, “Fuck you,” at it before stumbling toward the kitchen.

“Voicemail, voicemail, voicemail…”

Phone. Where the hell is his phone?

You spot it near the couch—charging, mercifully unlocked. Ha! The tequila gods are shining upon you! You yank it off the cord and open the voicemail app, hands sweating like you’re hacking into the Pentagon.

Except the voicemail won’t play.

It’s lagging. Loading. Spinning.

You jab at the screen repeatedly. “Come on, you little shit.”

You’re crouched like a rat by this thing, hitting buttons and praying for divine intervention when—

CLUNK. A thud. Metal on glass.

You whip your head toward the fire escape window.

It’s opening.

Before your brain can even string together the words oh my god someone is breaking in, it’s already happening. A figure in black, broad-shouldered and limping, swings one leg over the sill like he’s done it a thousand times—like this apartment is his.

“HEY!”

The man doesn’t stop. He’s moving slow, steady, his shoulders heaving. He’s wearing black from head to toe, including a black mask that hides his face. You grab the nearest object (a ceramic vase, very tasteful Matt, sorry it has to go now) and wield it with both hands like a bat.

“The guy who lives here is BLIND, asshole!” you scream, advancing on him with righteous fury. “You trying to rob a blind man? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

The man in black holds up a hand. He’s wobbling. His voice is low, hoarse. “No—I’m—don’t—”

“Don’t? Don’t what?” you snarl, vase now fully raised like a cartoon caveman. “Don’t beat the absolute shit out of you? 'Cause I’m not feeling real merciful tonight, asshole.”

He staggers and braces a gloved hand against the desk. Breathing heavily.

You’re panting too and all sweaty now, and you feel like you have to shit. No really, your stomach is turning sour and it’s probably all the whiskey, and you need to shit NOW, but here you are, possibly about to commit homicide.

But then it clicks.

Your eyes sweep his figure: The black shirt. Heavy-looking pants, boots and gloves. The mask.

You’ve seen him before.

“Wait a minute,” you say slowly. “You’re that guy, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer, still stumbling forward, an open hand shot up in front of him as if in surrender.

“You’re that guy in the paper! The one who beats guys up in Hell’s Kitchen. You threw a car tire at that guy on Tenth, I was fucking there!”

Still no answer. He exhales, more like a groan now and you realize there’s blood. It’s from his shoulder, seeping through the suit. You swallow, trying to steel your nerves, but your stomach’s in waves again and your grip on the vase is kind of loosening because fuck, you do not want to be a sequel to Car Tire Guy. But then you think of Matt—oh God, what if you hadn’t been here—and decide that yes, he may never love you back and still yes, yes, you’d die before if you’d let anything happen to him.

“I don’t care if you’re Daredevil or Dork Knight or whatever the fuck,” you bark. “What the hell are you doing in my boss’s apartment?!”

He mumbles something. You don't catch it. “Get the fuck out or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“Wait—don’t—don’t hit me,” he says, voice low and hoarse. You frown. Something’s familiar. And then he’s slumping like a puppet with its string cut. He drops one knee to the floor, gripping the edge of the desk harder to stay upright, and you freeze.

“Okay—calm down, calm down, I’m—”

He’s trying to raise his hands. You raise the vase higher, bracing.

He’s peeling off the mask. He’s—

“Matt?!”

What. The. FUCK.

Thirty percent of your bloodstream right now is Jameson, but it’s the first time you’ve known hallucinations to be a symptom of it. Because in front of you is Matt Murdock. Bleeding. In front of his secretary who is very drunk and holding a ceramic vase, and he’s also apparently Daredevil.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Why are you dressed like that??”

“It’s my apartment!” he shouts back, and honestly that’s fair. Matt in his own living room, at least that part’s right. “What are you doing here?!”

“I—uh—I was—” you sputter. “I left you a voicemail—” You drop the vase, and it lands with a thud at your feet. Huh, maybe it was plastic after all. You stomp over to him, clasping a hand under his armpit and dragging him to the couch. He’s heavy and hurt, so he’s groaning all throughout, and when he’s situated, you start pacing around loudly and drunkenly, your mind still reeling. “Never mind. Let’s just say I could potentially get fired for something I accidentally sent to you, but that’s not what matters now. You’re Daredevil?! Does Foggy even know?”

He tilts his head back with a groan, pressing the heel of his palm to his temple, and says, weakly, “Please stop yelling. My head isn’t doing great right now.”

“Sorry. But what do you even expect, Matt?! You’re a vigilante who just came in through a window! Are you even really blind?? Or was all that bumping into shit excuse just bullshit, too?” You slap a hand to your forehead. “Wait—no, you know what? Don’t answer that, you don’t have to tell me. I’m not your wife. I’m just the girl who orders your stationery, ha-ha. Good for me. Fuck!”

“Not just…” he mumbles, incoherent.

“What?”

But then his phone, having apparently built dramatic tension in solidarity, finally decides to play. You whip around just in time to hear your own voice, slurry and tragic, absolutely damning. 

…something to listen to. I love you, Matt…

No. No no no. (Is that what your voice sounds like?)

You scramble for the phone but you’re pretty sure it’s under Matt’s body, which makes no sense because it’s still so goddamn loud, but then maybe he needs it for accessibility. So maybe he really is blind after all. You slap a hand to your mouth and shoot a glance back at him—he hasn’t moved, sitting all pretty on his loudass phone, mask still in his lap, eyes fluttering closed.

…I know it’s stupid. You wouldn’t even look at me twice if I wasn’t your secretary…

That emergency window where he entered from! Maybe you can still make the jump.

…but I really, really love you. Your voice is nice. Your face is nice. Your… suits?

You clutch the side of your head and hiss through your teeth. “Why would I mention the suits—”

Matt makes a sound—a sordid chuckle at your expense—but it’s cut short as he slouches even further, and his head dips.

“Matt?” you say, all the heat in your chest suddenly plummeting to ice. “Matt.”

You lurch toward him on instinct, catching his shoulders as he lists to one side.

“Hey. Hey. No dying in front of me, okay? I already embarrassed myself once tonight.”

He breathes out against your arm, unsteady. Is this really how he’s gonna go?! Are you that repulsive for him to want to die after you’ve confessed your undying love for him?!

“Okay,” you whisper, bracing him. “Okay, alright. We need… I need to think. You’re Daredevil. You’re bleeding. I broke into your apartment— you broke into your apartment. I don’t even know whose crime this is anymore.”

He doesn’t respond, slumping heavier into you.

Oh my God, he’s going to die and it’s going to look like you murdered him. You’re going to end up on Dateline. You can see the headline: obsessive secretary confesses her unrequited love and beats her boss to death after getting rejected.

You stare into the middle distance. “I need another drink.”

Matt groans, barely conscious. “Please… don’t…”

“Don’t drink?”

“Don’t…” He swallows thickly. “…break into anyone else’s apartment tonight, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You burst into laughter. You want to cry at the ridiculousness of everything. There’s blood on your sleeves and on his cheek. And his stupid hair is all tousled and tragic and soft-looking, and he’s got the nerve to call you “sweetheart” in the middle of all this. 

“What am I going to do, Matt?”

“Medkit,” he croaks out, lifting a shaky finger. “Bathroom.”

You blink. Okay. You need to get it together. Matt is not going to die tonight, not on your watch. But fuck, if you didn’t need that drink.

[echo-ethe]

John Carter Masterlist

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he’s with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John’s mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend’s stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John’s friend and rival makes you an offer you can’t refuse.

The Stethoscope - John’s world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

Elderberry Wine - You come home to find John waiting for you.

[echo-ethe]

Michael "Robby" Robinavitch Masterlist

Lines - It’s been a long time since Robby’s been attracted to someone like this.

Lipstick (NSFW) - It's love at first blow job for Dr Robby.

Crisis - Robby has a bad day.

ASMR For The Soul - Robby doesn't sleep when you're not around.

Bunny - Robby discovers you've been keeping secrets.

Something To Complain About (NSFW) - You ignite the ire of Robby's neighbour with your bedroom noises.

Noise Cancelling - Robby discovers his neighbour keeps a spreadsheet of your antics.

Poolside - When Robby's had a really shitty day he always ends up whereever you are.

The Betting Pool - Robby discovers that his collegues have been taking bets on his relationship.

Fifty Shades of Robby - Robby's collegues see the truth of his relationship when they find your Instagram.

Dumb Bitch - Robby exhibits his protective side when another man steps on his territory.

Stop Compressions, Start Compressions - Robby loses everything in the aftermath of Pittfest.

24 Hours - Robby refuses to leave your side in the aftermath of the shooting.

Saftey Rail - Abbot gets real with Robby when he finds him on the roof.

Baby, It's Gonna Be Alright - Robby wonders if he's fucked things up with you for good.

Exorcism (NSFW) - Robby and you finally find a way to be honest with one another.

Ready - Robby and you discuss starting a family in the aftermath of Pittfest.

The Rose - You give Robby a special gift for your anniversary.

Heartbeat - Robby finds something to help him sleep.

Jinx - Robby discovers a particular superstition of yours.

The Scary One - Robby and you face concerns during your second pregnancy scan.

Pop Tarts - You and Robby decorate the baby's nursery.

Brave Little Boy - Robby wakes up to the baby kicking and gets a suprise.

Brown Eyed Boy - The birth of your son doesn’t quite go the way you’d planned.

One Week - Robby cares for the two of you one week after his son’s birth.

HCs:

Food Fight

Hand Holding

Sleeping

Dr Robby's Infinite Playlist

Baby

Horny

Instigation

Submission

Zealous

Aftercare

Fair

Lick

No

Quiet

X Marks The Spot

[echo-ethe]

Mack The Knife: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: You come face to face with a nightmare in John's apartment.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

Elderberry Wine - You come home to find John waiting for you.

Sex, Lies and Cocaine Dreams - John takes his revenge on the man that shattered your dreams.

By The Grace of God - An unexpected ally goes to bat for you during your beard hearing.

Choices - You and John discuss your options moving forward.

The Sexual Revolution (NSFW) - You decide to give John a private show before the event.

A Love Story - Your performance sparks an unexpected conversation with Gamma.

The Problem With Winning The War - The problem with winning the war is that you don't expect the second attack.

The first thing you do when you step into John’s apartment is put a vinyl on the record player. You’re feeling something that fits the era you’ve been playing to tonight so you choose Mack The Knife. It’s one of John’s favourites. You tease him about it being a murder ballad and he reminds you it’s the first song he danced with you to at Soloman’s bar back in the day.

You’re singing along to the second chorus when you hear the door open behind you, you don’t glance over your shoulder. You’re too busy making tea so that you can both settle down for the night.

“I decided to make you Earl Grey because you’re such a classy bitch.” You drawl, swaying to the music as you place the tea infuser into his mug. “You don’t have any lemon though so I…”

You can’t describe how you know in that moment that it’s not John standing in the apartment with you. Women’s brains, they’re attuned to register danger in a way that men’s aren’t, picking up tiny details that alert your senses long  before you even begin to understand them. A heavier footstep, a different cologne, the slight rasp of breath you know has never left your lover’s mouth.

You process all of this in a fraction of a second before you turn around to face the man who is not John Carter.

Ryan Burkefield II stands before you, the man who tried to extort you for sex, who almost made you lose your entire career. He’s more dishevelled than the last time you saw him, a beard has grown in over those chiselled features of his, his hair is longer, more unkempt.

It’s the knife that you focus on, the way it glints dangerously underneath the dome light in the kitchen. It hangs alongside him, grasped tightly in his hand as blood drips onto the tiles underneath your feet. Your breath catches as you stare at it because you know it’s John’s blood, you feel it deep down in your heart.

“Is he dead?” You ask him, your voice barely more than a ragged whisper.

“Soon.”  He says shrugging his shoulders. “I left him bleeding out in the parking lot in front of that fucking Jeep of his.”

Already your instincts are kicking in, mentally running through the items in the apartment you can use to stifle the bleeding. You make a move towards the drawer where the kitchen towels are kept and the blade flashes. A burst of pain erupts through your left forearm as the skin splits, blood rushing to the surface, running down your arm.

“I need to help him-”

“No you don’t.” He snarls, pointing the knife at you as you throw up your hands up to show compliance. “What you need to do is do as you fucking told.”

“You haven’t told me what you want-”

“Come on Crystal, you know what I want.” He drawls, the blade teasing along the neckline of your white tank top. The fabric begins to separate as he slices down, just a couple of inches, enough to display your cleavage. “I want what he had that night. You in that bed, begging for me to fuck-”

He doesn’t see the kettle coming, the one you’ve just boiled for the tea. It’s a metal Russell Hobbs, something you made fun of John for buying because it was so stupidly shiny but now your fucking glad because all that stainless steel, it makes this thing scalding hot. He screams as it makes the connection, it’s a piercing shrill sound that erupts through the entire apartment as you swing your arm back, his skin ripping from his face, sticking to the kettle before you hit him again. He goes down this time, the knife clattering across the floor, spinning underneath the kitchen table.

“You better pray to fucking God he isn’t dead because I will track you down in whatever hospital they put you in and make sure you are.” You snarl before using your thumb to open the lid and upending the entire kettle of boiling water all over him.

The screaming starts again as you discard it, snatching up the kitchen towels out of the drawer before you take off down the hall. You don’t bother with the elevator, you race down the stairs two at a time, hitting the fire door at the bottom with such force that it smashes against the wall as you burst through it.

Al the Doorman’s head pops up like meerkat from behind the reception desk where he’s eating the Falconi’s pizza, one he must have walked across the street to pick up in his fifteen minute break.

“Call the police and an ambulance.” You bark at him and to his credit, he’s on his feet in an instant, the phone in his hand. “There’s a guy in 374 that’s just stabbed John Carter in the parking lot.”

You’re already out in the street by the time he dials 911, hauling ass towards the Jeep. You find John tucked between it and a neighbour’s car, hidden completely from view. His body is sprawled out across the tarmac, his skin deathly pale under the glow of the street lamp. His eyes are closed, his breaths short and labours as plumes of crimson stain the puddles of water around him.

“It’s alright babe, I’m here.” You murmur as you drop down beside him, your fingers seeking out his jugular. His pulse beats against your fingertips, weak and thready.

The back of his shirt is drenched in blood, you can taste  the copper on your tongue as you yank the fabric up so that you can get a clearer picture of the wound. What you see… you wish you’d beaten the fucker upstairs to death with that kettle.

It didn’t just stab John, he twisted the knife to cause maximum damage.

You bundle up the towels as tightly as you can, thrusting them against the wound. The only thing you can do now is keep pressure on it until the ambulance arrives.  In the distance, you can already hear the sirens, your chest filling with relief as red and blue lights cascade through the parking lot.

“They’re here now baby.” You tell him, waving your hand in the air so the EMTs can see you between the parked cars. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

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[echo-ethe]

Taste

F!Reader x Sam x Sebastian

Warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, threesome, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, swallowing

Word count: 8.1k

Synopsis: Smut ~ Sam and Sebastian are best friends, and best friends lend a hand when it’s needed. They find themselves both thinking about the new farmer in town and wonder if you can fill in the missing spaces of their arrangement.

A/N: Had to finally give into my primal urge to write about Sam and Seb, plz enjoy and happy pride month!

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It had started on a weeknight late into autumn, all the leaves brown and wet from the chilly rain, sticking to Sam’s sneakers as he made his way up to the mountains where his best friend lived. The hood of his grey sweatshirt was pulled over his head, denim jacket holding the soft cotton tight to his torso and keeping him warm with the frigid winds that seemed to hit him straight in the face no matter which way he turned. The point of the season in which the weather made one final turn toward winter had always depressed Sam. It meant the end of warm weather; no more t-shirts, no more shorts or swim trunks, no more pretty girls in bikinis, no more skateboarding. All he had left to look forward to was the novel appeal of tucking himself under a soft throw blanket and watching horror movies in preparation for Spirit’s Eve, only a week away.

Sam had let himself into the carpenter shop and exchanged brief pleasantries with Sebastian’s mom before hurrying down the creaky steps to the basement. Sebastian sat at his computer like usual, looking up as Sam walked in. “Hey,” Sam sighed, plopping onto the couch and letting his head fall against the cushions as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Sebastian replied. He clicked his mouse a couple times, the whirring of fans in his computer coming to a stop as the dark-haired boy stood up and stretched. He settled onto his mattress, legs stretched out in front of him as he surveyed the blond. “You’re energetic today.”

“It’s freezing outside. I’m already over it.”

“It’s not that bad,” he’d insisted.

“Says you.” Sebastian had quirked a pierced eyebrow upward. “You have Abigail to keep you warm. I’m alone. So utterly alone.” Sam was being a bit dramatic. Yeah, the colder seasons were better when there was a significant other involved, but he wasn’t yearning for it. He was young, only eighteen. And honestly, a part of him had resented Sebastian when the couple had told him that they’d made things official. While Sebastian was a few months older, he was still eighteen, too, and their whole lives were opening up before them. Sam’s best friend being tied down to a girl he could date five years down the road if he really wanted to only held both boys back from experiencing everything adulthood had to offer.

“I don’t see Abigail here, do you?” She’d been busy performing unpaid labor at her dad’s shop all month, it being their busy season and all. Sebastian would still have her in his bed all winter long, so Sam didn’t feel too bad for him

“You know what I mean.”

“Get yourself a girl, then. You have to be interested in someone, right?”

“I don’t know. Haley’s been hanging around outside our houses and I’ve talked to her a lot, but I don’t know if she’s really my type.”

“You have a type?”

“I usually go for the girl next door,” Sam replied. He thought for a moment— Haley was quite literally the girl next door. He amended, “Metaphorically. Pretty, but in the way that she still gets embarrassed when I tell her she’s pretty.”

Sebastian chuckled. “Like who?”

“I don’t know… like Penny, I guess. She’s smart and funny and proper and innocent, and that’s all kind of a turn-on.”

“So go for it.”

“I’m not sure that’s really what I want. Commitment isn’t something I’m interested in right now. I just like the body warmth.”

“So why does it matter? Cuddle with Haley if she’ll let you.”

“I mean… there are other things I want, too.” Sebastian raised both brows, a smirk spread over his mouth. “I’m just, like, so horny. My hand is getting tired. I just need someone to help me out at this point.”

“Not sure any of the girls here are going to offer that service, sorry.”

Sam scratched at the back of his neck, staring down at his feet. “Not to pry or whatever, but… are you and Abi fucking all the time? I never hear you talk about that kind of thing.”

“We do stuff sometimes, but not that. She says she’s not ready.”

“And you don’t crave it?”

“Obviously I do,” Seb scoffed. “I guess I’m just better at jerking off than you are.”

“What’s your secret?”

“Porn’s a good start.”

“You think I don’t look at porn? It’s not working for me.”

Sebastian sighed. “Maybe you’re just one of those people who will never be satisfied unless someone’s doing the work for them.”

“How do I figure out if that’s my issue?”

“Test it, I guess.”

“I’ll get right on that,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. They’d already established that no one in this tiny-ass town would be open to a relationship free of exclusivity, and Sam would be holding out a while longer before he gave up his freedom just to quell his sex drive. Sebastian pushed himself off his bed, crossing the room to sit on the couch next to Sam.

“I know it sucks, dude, but that’s just part of living in a community like this. Lucky for you, you have the best friend ever.”

Sam didn’t see Sebastian’s hand reaching toward him in the moment, but he certainly noticed when his friend’s palm landed on the button of his denim jeans. The rough fabric pulled over his crotch as Seb wrestled the metallic button free, tugging the zipper down and sliding his hand underneath to grasp Sam’s length through his boxers. “What the fuck?” Sam asked, but it left his throat in a whisper, barely audible.

“I’m down to help you, dude, but you have to let me. Not trying to brag, but I’ve got a lot of experience jerking off. Way more than any girl here you could possibly ever trick into doing it.”

Sam had been so frozen in shock and indecision and Sebastian hadn’t stopped to ask for an answer. He continued running his fingers over Sam’s growing boner until the pressure was stretching his boxers to the point where the fabric was thinning with tension and a drop of precum had leaked into the fabric. Seb had looked up at him and he immediately lifted his hips, pushing his jeans and boxers down his legs and leaving them on the floor.

Sebastian made embarrassingly quick work of Sam’s erection. The long, slender fingers wrapped around his cock, the chipped black nail polish on his fingernails, his nonchalant demeanor as Sam felt like his insides were on fire— all of it piled on top of each other and spurred Sam on, closer to orgasm. “What about Abi?” the blond gasped, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut if the question presented a possibility that this might stop abruptly.

“Abigail knows I jerk off. This isn’t different, really. I’m jus’ doing it while I’m also being a really great friend. What’s the problem with that?”

“Nothin,” Sam groaned, his hips thrusting upward into Sebastian’s fist. “Fuck… Seb.”

“Am I better at it than you are?” he said with a laugh.

“Fuck yeah.” He was loosing his composure second by second, deep groans leaving his throat while his hand searched for something to hold onto, fingers eventually intertwining with Sebastian’s dark locks. Sam found himself face to face with his best friend, Sam a panting mess, pupils blown out and mouth open while Sebastian looked into his eyes like this was just another Monday afternoon. As the knot in his stomach was growing impossibly tight, Sam captured Sebastian’s lips in a sloppy kiss full of tongue, just for a second, pulling back when Seb’s hand shifted focus to his leaky tip, precum slicking up his pink head and leading the knot in his stomach to unwravel. Seb, having sensed it, had pulled Sam’s shirt up to his chest and continued to stroke wildly while aiming at Sam’s pale stomach peppered with light brown hairs. Sam had come all over himself, Sebastian continuing to stroke the full orgasm out of him until little dribbles of hot white cum slid down his shaft. He’d pulled back and leaned away, settling into the couch as Sam caught his breath.

“Let me know if that helps.”

It hadn’t. Not with quelling Sam’s sex drive, at least. He went home replaying the events over and over in his head, couldn’t look Sebastian in the eye for weeks, and it took even longer with Abigail. Finally, Sebastian had cornered him in his bedroom and interrogated him on his weird behavior. Sebastian had figured that maybe Sam regretted it, but the blond had bashfully admitted that he didn’t. He couldn’t figure out what he felt about the whole thing, but he knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about it and his cock would usually throb to the idea. Sebastian had consoled him, talked him through whatever pangs of guilt were plaguing him, and jerked him off again.

This arrangement lasted months. When Sebastian and Abigail finally called their relationship off, Sam noticed a shift in Sebastian. He’d ask Sam to hang out almost every night, not beating around the bush for too long before wrapping his hand around Sam’s length and not letting go until his palm was sticky with his friend’s cum. One night, after a full week of this little routine, Sam was walking home. He’d stopped on a dime, turning back to the mountains and heading back down to Sebastian’s room only to find him in bed, rubbing his cock with his hand still stained with Sam’s jizz.

“Whatcha doin’?” Sam asked, causing Sebastian to jump as he looked over at his friend. Sam didn’t wait for an answer, locking the door behind him and sitting next to Seb amongst his dark blankets. “Need help?” Sebastian had gone slack-jawed, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head so he could look at Sam as he jerked his cock. It was longer than Sam’s, but maybe not as girthy. The pulsing of blood underneath the pale skin was clear, his tip flushed bright pink as Sam stroked along it, pretending it was his own cock. In all honesty, it had been a while since he’d had to resort to masturbation, and he worried he’d been losing his touch. Sebastian reached down only a couple minutes later, though, tugging Sam closer to his dick by his messy blond strands of hair. Without warning, Sebastian’s length pulsed and shot a thick white rope over Sam’s face. He’d jumped back a bit and Sebastian only laughed as he continued to orgasm, Sam’s hand still stroking him so as to not ruin the experience.

Once the barrier was broken down, the boys became even closer. They’d find porn to look at together, jerk themselves off as they sat close on the couch, eventually reaching over to service their best friend. Sebastian had insisted Sam sleep in his bed when he spent the night, and they’d practically fall asleep doing the same thing, snuggled into one another as they did so. Sam had been horny since puberty, but being spurred on by Sebastian made him even worse. All he could think about half the time was his next orgasm, and whose hand it would be at. Usually the answer was Sebastian.

As he laid in the black-haired man’s bed, Sebastian busy trying to pull up a video on his phone as they lay together, both just wearing boxers, Sam huffed and tucked his head against the crook of Seb’s neck. “Hmm?” Seb asked absentmindedly.

“I’ve been thinking about that farmer lately.”

“What about her?”

“Fucking her, mostly,” Sam chuckled. Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“I’m shocked.”

“You act like you haven’t seen her body.”

“I’ve seen it. I’ve thought about it.”

“You’ve thought about it with me?” Sam feigned surprise, shooting Sebastian his sad puppy dog expression.

“Yeah.” Seb pressed his palm to Sam’s face, pushing him away playfully, but Sam returned right back to his side. “If it’s bothering you, maybe you should invite her over.”

“Invite her over for what?” Sam asked with a skeptical eyebrow raise. Sebastian only gave him a pointed look. “‘Hey, Y/n, wanna come over and get spitroasted by my friend and I?”

“Maybe she’d say yes.”

“Maybe she’d slap me in the fucking face.”

“Well, are you into that?”

Sam groaned. Sebastian was no good at girl advice. The two of them were older now. Still in their early-twenties, but older than they were when they first started this little arrangement. Sam hadn’t wanted commitment back then, which had gotten him here in the first place, but he hadn’t stopped to reconsider the subject since. The thought of returning back to a boring old platonic relationship with his best friend was enough to turn him off it completely, leaving him again only with the choice of finding someone here who was okay with a hookup. You were newer to the town, fresh off a crazy life in the city. Maybe you were his best hope.

“I’m not gonna pitch the threesome… but I’ll invite her over to hang out,” Sam conceded.

The faint wet sounds of a couple making out started playing through Sebastian’s phone as he’d settled on a video for the two of them to watch. Finally satisfied, Sebastian’s hand snaked into Sam’s boxers to find his half-hard dick awaiting. “Sure, whatever makes you happy. Now grab my dick.” Sam had chuckled dryly, reaching across to trail his hand down Sebastian’s body and stroke him through the thin fabric of his boxers while Seb gave him a wet kiss before returning his attention to the video.

That conversation had brought them to tonight. You’ll be on your way any second and Sam can’t help but feel nervous as he paces around Sebastian’s room. He’d already tried to get Sam to relax to no avail. “What exactly did you say to her?”

Sam sighs. “I told her she looked great, and I asked if she’d come hang out so I could look at her more tonight.”

“Cheesy as fuck,” Seb scoffs.

“I was hoping that would be enough for her to get the hint without having to say it.”

“I feel like you just made me out to be the third wheel.”

Sebastian is sat on the wooden floor, back against his mattress. Sam sneaks his way onto the bed and lets either leg rest against his friend’s shoulders, fingers tangling into Seb’s hair to gently massage at his scalp. “‘Course not. Unless you’re into that.”

The creak of the boards comprising the staircase outside Sebastian’s door alert them to your arrival. You knock, opening the door slow and peaking in to see the two men staring expectantly, Sam with a big smile and Sebastian with an indifferent nod. You let yourself in, closing the door gently behind you and taking a spot on the couch. Sam practically skips over, squeezing in to your side. “Hi pretty girl.” He lays an arm over the couch behind you.

“Hey, guys,” you reply, a rosy blush spread over your cheeks as you look between Sam and Sebastian who is still settled on the floor next to his bed. “What are you up to?”

“Just waiting for you.” It was true, and Sam couldn’t be bothered to lie. “What do you wanna do?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, we could play something? Watch a movie, maybe? Whatever you guys usually do.”

Sam sneaks a look at Sebastian who’s smirking to himself while he fights back a laugh himself. “Movie works, yeah, Seb?”

He clears his throat. “Yep.” With that, he stands up and walks to the TV set up on a little stand against the wall, digging through the cases of movies stacked in the shelves underneath as he searches for whatever title he’s looking for.

“TV’s kinda far away, huh? Let’s sit on the bed,” Sam ushers, climbing back to his feet and holding out a hand to help you up. You hesitantly take it, allowing him to pull you to stand next to him and guide you over to the mattress covered in a fluffy black comforter. Sam takes the spot next to the pillows, moving them against the wall so you can all settle into them and get comfortable. He pats the spot next to him, in the middle of the bed, and you slowly climb up with a glance over your shoulder at Sebastian who’s throwing a DVD into the slot. He eventually takes a seat to the other side of you, closest to the TV, and starts the movie.

Sam had seen the film a few years ago, and while he didn’t remember much about it, he did recall that Sebastian had watched it alone with Abigail when they were dating. He’d said he was too preoccupied with Abi’s hand down his pants for the last half of the movie to remember how it had ended. It was some rated-R romance movie with a nudity warning. Sebastian had put it on not long after he saw it with Abi and they’d both missed the ending again as the content had seemingly struck Seb with the same inspiration, and Sam had cum all over the sheets the three of you sit on now, and the cleanup had lasted through the rest of the film. Whatever the fuck this movie was about seemed to turn people on, and Sam bit back a grin as he realized how overt Seb’s motive was, and how oblivious you were to it.

The first sex scene is only about half an hour in, and while the video doesn’t show much, it’s full of dirty talking and moans and Sam feels himself twitching below his jeans. Stealing a glance over, he notices that your hands are folded in your lap, fingers clenched together, teeth bit tight over your bottom lip, eyes wide. Sam laughs to himself and you snap your attention back to him, your first instinct to look embarrassed. You quickly correct to match him, letting out a little giggle as if amused by the situation at hand, nestled between two of your guy friends while you all watch a movie whose plot ultimately revolves around sex. You’re so cute when you pretend you’re not affected by it. Sam wraps his arm around your shoulders, tugging you into him so your back rests over his side. Sebastian eventually moves over, taking the space you’d once occupied and closing the gap.

More plot goes by, and Sam begins to grow a little bored with the strife between the “couple.” Seb seemingly does too, yawning dramatically and leaning in more until his head rests on your side, face almost nuzzled into your stomach. Sam squeezes you and you look back, a half-hearted smile being sent his way. “You look so pretty,” Sam says quietly. You laugh and shake your head, turning away, but he uses his free hand to pull your chin back to look at him. “Really. I should’ve sat on the other side of the bed because I can’t focus on the movie when you’re right in front of me.”

“I can switch spots with you,” you offer with a laugh.

“No, thanks. Wouldn’t change it if I could. I just… I wanna kiss you.”

You look down at Seb, his chest rising and falling steadily as if he’s asleep, or nearly so. Looking back, you say, “I can’t, not with him. That’s… I don’t know, it seems weird.”

“He’s fine,” Sam insists, reaching further behind you to ruffle the man’s black hair. “Yeah, Seb?”

“Mm-hmm,” he mumbles, voice gravely. His eyes remain closed.

“See? It’s all good.” You’re clearly hesitant, and Sam truthfully doesn’t blame you. But he needs to kiss you. For himself, for Sebastian, for the plan. “So… can I kiss you?”

A long pause. Finally, you nod, slow and careful like you’re still not sure but you can’t find any other answer. Sam doesn’t waste much more time, holding the side of your face and leaning forward until your plush lips meet his. Sam wants so badly to push forward, force his tongue into your mouth and really taste you, but he holds himself back. Instead, he pulls away after a few seconds with a gentle suck of your bottom lip. You look up at him through your lashes and his thumb strokes over your cheek. “Good girl,” he smiles before letting go and pulling you closer to his chest. The movement forces Sebastian to adjust and he wraps an arm loosely over your thighs as he does so. You don’t acknowledge it, turning your attention back to the TV as another steamy scene begins.

Sam takes advantage of it, letting his fingers rub soothing circles over your stomach. Slowly, as the scene progresses, he inches higher and higher until his palm is basically over your breast and you don’t even seem to notice. His thumb grazes over your clothed nipple and only now do you jump, startled. “Sam!” you whisper sharply.

“Sorry,” he responds as if it were a simple accident. He pulls his hand back but uses the other to push Sebastian off you. Sam gets you turned so your shoulder is against his chest now, knees bent as you sit sideways between Sam’s thighs. Sebastian shoots Sam a glare behind your back, groggily pulling himself back up to sit against the wall with right leg pressed against Sam’s left. Slowly, Sam leaves a gentle kiss to your temple, peppering them along the side of your face until you turn to look at him. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to argue, capturing your mouth in a kiss as innocent as the first.

He doesn’t pull away this time, though. Instead, he leans further into you when you try to sit back, and he knows the energy has shifted. His desperation and desire is seeping into his motions, hasty in keeping your mouth busy with his own. His tongue drags along your bottom lip and you part your mouth slightly, allowing Sam to jump on the opportunity to slide it through and explore your mouth. You taste good, your spit covering his tongue. His jaw opens while his palm falls to the side of your face again to hold you in place and tangle his tongue with yours. He can feel the subtle pull on the fabric of your shirt as Sebastian drags his nails up and down your back to comfort you. Sam wonders if you think he’s doing it, given your lack of reaction.

You press both your palms to Sam’s chest to pull away. “Sam, I really don’t want to make Sebastian feel weird.” You send the man an apologetic, bashful smile before turning your attention back to the blond.

“He’s okay with it, really. Maybe he feels a little left out, though.”

Your brows furrow and you look back at Sebastian in search of clarification, but the black-haired man greets your gaze with a more overt rub of your back and you finally put the pieces together. “Not my style to come onto you like Sam does, but I think you’re pretty, too.”

“Why don’t you kiss him?” Sam suggests, letting his grip on you go so you can turn yourself toward Sebastian instead of looking awkwardly over your shoulder at him.

“I don’t-” you begin, but Seb is already leaning closer, sure to keep eye contact with you until he’s only an inch from your face. You lean in just the slightest but it’s enough for Sebastian and he closes the distance, setting one long kiss to your lips as you’re practically frozen. He pulls away and smiles sheepishly. Sam smirks. Sebastian isn’t sheepish about much revolving these situations, and his act is clear as day to Sam.

“Good girl,” Sam affirms you again, ignoring the facade Sebastian is weaving for you. “Wanna kiss again?”

“Which one?” you ask, so quiet he can barely hear you over the grunts coming from the TV.

Sam shrugs. “You can pick.”

You move back toward Sam and his heart jumps, eagerly running his hands down your body to settle on your waist as you kneel in front of him and lean down. You let him close the distance and he does so immediately, excited that you’re not running away and excited at the knowledge that you picked him. He twists his fingers into your hair and holds you close, opening his mouth a little more with every kiss until his tongue has slipped past your lips again and tangles with your own. Wet licks and sucking fill his ears and he’s growing harder, wishing you would take a hand holding you up off his thigh and move it over just a few inches.

You sit back for air after a few minutes and Sam begrudgingly ushers you back to Sebastian. “Thank our host, ‘kay?” You do so without much hesitation and Sebastian follows Sam’s move, a bit slower than he had, taking his time in deepening the kiss. Watching the two of you doesn’t give Sam any break as he had hoped, only wanting more to grab his cock and stroke it to relieve some of the tension building up in his body. Instead, Sam sits up enough to tug his t-shirt over his head and throw it off the side of the mattress, palming himself while you’re occupied with Sebastian.

When you break away, you look to Sam expectantly as if intending to return to his lap. Instead, Sam tells Seb, “Take your shirt off.” You watch Sebastian carefully, taking a moment to study the torsos of both men in front of you. Sam’s got definition, but he knows he eats too much pizza to look as toned as he wants to. Sebastian on the other hand is skinny so the muscle he does have is way more prominent. Sam blames the cigarettes on the lack of appetite when he gets jealous of Seb’s effortless physique. “Looks like it’s your turn,” Sam finally says to you, eyeing your shirt. You don’t move, gnawing at your bottom lip as you look between the two. “Need help?”

“No, it’s fine,” you quickly brush off, tugging at the bottom hem and dragging it past your stomach, past your breasts to show off a simple white bra with a touch of lace, and finally drop the fabric to the side.

“So pretty, huh, Seb?”

“So pretty,” he coos, tracing fingertips up your ribs.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of unfair, though? She still has a bra on. We’re naked above the waist.”

Sebastian nods, brazenly staring at the curve of your tits. “Yeah, that is kind of fucked up.”

“Bra, too, baby.” Sam can tell you want to object, but you do it anyway. Like something is driving you to push it further and you don’t want to pass up the opportunity. You reach behind your back to unhook the clasp before pulling both straps down your arms, keeping the cups pressed to your chest until you finally work up the courage to let them fall. Your face is flush with embarrassment, exposed to your two friends like this, but it only adds to Sam’s erection.

He stands, making way for you to lay down along the length of the mattress with a plush pillow propped under your head. Sam and Seb lay down on either side of you, Sam stealing a few kisses as Sebastian runs his hand over your stomach up to your breasts, playing with your skin and flicking over your nipple. Sam can hear when Sebastian’s tongue takes the place of his finger, not only by the warm wet suck over your chest, but also by the moan that falls deep from your throat and is muffled in Sam’s mouth. Sam takes his opportunity to play with your other nipple as he kisses you, until finally leaving a line down your neck as his mouth makes his way to join Seb. As the two men suck each nipple, they exchange smug grins, your head tilted back in pleasure. Sam grabs Sebastian’s cheek delicately, guiding him over your chest to meet him halfway in a kiss. A little gasp comes from above and Sam lets Seb go, instead following him over to your left nipple and letting his tongue gloss over it and mingle with Seb’s in the process. Fuck, there’s something about kissing his best friend, something usually isolated to when he’s on the brink of orgasm, with your tit in their mouths that had him humping into the bed, desperate for friction along the underside of his cock. Your inability to hide your surprise only adds a voyeristic desire to push it further.

Maybe Sebastian feels the same way. He props himself up next to you, giving you a sloppy kiss not unlike the work he’s done on your chest, pulling away and speaking quietly in your ear. You nod slowly, sitting up and staring at Sam. “Take your pants off, bud,” Seb orders with a smirk.

Sam doesn’t wait for you to interject, or for Seb to change his mind. He stands, pulling off his jeans and patterned boxers, letting them fall to the ground. His cock is fully erect as he settles between the gap you two have left on the bed. Sebastian has seen Sam’s cock so often that he’s no longer all that phased by it. You, understandably, are staring at it as you take it in. Sebastian beckons you to move in closer and you crawl hesitantly to Sam’s lap, hand wrapping around his length while your eyes are trained to his. Sam puts his palm to the back of your head to position you closer, kissing you before letting go and allowing you to settle in, face so close to his shaft. “Need help, babe?” Sam asks again as he watches you, unmoving as you shamelessly stare at his cock resting over his lower stomach. You glance up while he uses his thumb to tilt it toward your lips, smearing the formed bead of precum over the soft, delicate skin of your mouth. “Open.”

You follow his instructions, lips parting enough for him to slide the tip through. You instinctively wrap them around the ridge of his head, tongue swirling over his sensitive skin as you tease him and soak in the taste of salty precum continuing to bead at his tip. Sebastian sits up next to Sam, watching you intently, studying the way Sam reacts to your touch as your mouth sinks further down the length of his cock. Sam’s head rolls back as he lets you work him, the feel of something besides a hand wrapped around his dick so exciting and long overdue. He lazily looks to Sebastian, temple pressed against the wall behind him. “Feelin’ left out?”

Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t mind watchin’ for a minute.”

“Wishin’ your dick was getting sucked, too, or wishing you were down on your knees next to Y/n?”

“Is that an offer?” Sebastian winks. Sam gestures down toward you, shifting his focus back on your head bobbing up and down, eager eyes staring up to his for validation.

“Feels good, baby,” he reassures you, settling his fingers into your hair at the top of your head to guide you up and down, picking up speed and pushing himself a little deeper with each thrust. The bed shifts next to him as Sebastian climbs to the other side of Sam’s lap, cupping at his balls. It looks like it throws you off a little, the added hand, but you don’t stop. Not that you have much of an option as Sam continues to take more control from you. Only when he notices Sebastian leaning in closer does he pull you off to let you catch your breath and wipe the spit from your lips. Seb doesn’t waste his opportunity as Sam holds the base of his cock, quickly taking your place and dragging his tongue over the length of Sam’s drool-covered cock. The ball-shaped piercing embedded in the man’s tongue adds a sensation Sam had never thought too hard about, but it sends a shiver up his spine as the cool metal connects with his hot skin. He chuckles as he looks at you, your eyes wide as your spot is so quickly taken. “He’ll share, babe, don’t worry.”

“C’mere,” Sebastian grumbles to you, shifting further to the side to allow you enough room to copy the motions of his tongue on Sam’s dick. You hesitantly follow, tongues lapping over one another atop Sam’s cock, occasionally getting distracted as you exchange sloppy open-mouthed kisses which Sam has to redirect you away from with his fist tangling into both heads of hair. Even though he’s not being sucked and throated like earlier, something about watching his best friend and the girl he’s fantasized over make out with his cock at the same time is really doing it for him. He imagines what it would be like to cum right now, shoot thick white ropes over both your faces as you eventually leave his cock behind to lick the mess off one another. While the thought is addicting and nearly enough to get him close, he knows it’s far too early in the night for that.

“Now I feel left out,” Sam pouts to the two as Sebastian’s tongue flicks over his tip to collect precum, almost immediately shoving it in your mouth as you tangle into another brief makeout, tongues stroking along his head each time your jaws open to go in for another wet kiss.

Sebastian pulls back just an inch, watching as you lean in more to capture his lips again, instead blocked by Sam’s dick as your tongue catches against the side of it. Your eyes finally open. “Sam wants a kiss,” Seb says with a roll of his eyes. You giggle, licking along your bottom lip to take in the collection of fluids building up on it. As you linger there, silly smile and all, Seb finally looks up at Sam. “Think she wants to keep sucking your dick.”

“T’s fine, come here,” Sam mutters to Sebastian who sits back next to him. Sam sets his fingers on the side of Seb’s face, grazing along his jawline, turning his head. They share a knowing look before opening their mouths, tongues meeting just as their lips crash together. Sam can’t look at you, but he feels you eventually start to stroke him again, suck him off slow like you’re distracted. He reaches down to absentmindedly stroke the back of your head. “Can you handle two?” he asks you through gasps of air. One of your hands moves to Sebastian’s thigh, Sam’s cock too deep in your throat to answer around it. Seb doesn’t waste time, tugging his black jeans down his legs, boxers following closely behind. When he groans into Sam’s mouth, he can tell you’ve started stroking him off, pulling off Sam’s dick to divide your attention between both men with your hands.

“Let’s make it a little easier on her,” Sam suggests, pulling himself onto his knees and taking a loose hold on Seb’s hair to direct him to follow. Their cocks, Sam’s still wet with spit, slide against one another now as they lean into each other, hands grabbing into locks of hair as they make out. You look up at them, watching as you remain crouched on the bed, hand wrapping around their shafts as you stroke the two of them together. Sam and Seb had talked about grinding against one another like this, but Sam imagines he might be disappointed if they tried later on without the assistance of your soft, careful strokes around them. Especially disappointed without the delicate licks you spread over the sides of their dicks, fighting to get between them enough to taste the mix of precum forming for you.

“You gonna fuck her or ‘m I?” Sebastian asks as Sam nips at his bottom lip.

“Think we both are, yeah?” Sam replies, looking between their bodies at you, grabbing your chin to force your gaze up. You nod, eyes wide as you stare at the two from under your lashes.

“Who’s first?”

“Are you asking to go first?”

He hums as he thinks over the offer. “No, you go first. I’ll let Y/n suck my cock for a while.”

Sam shrugs, happy to take him up on the arrangement. He positions you to lay on the bed, Seb kneeling next to your head while Sam places himself between your thighs. Despite the neglect they put you through as you pleased them, you’re wet enough to coat Sam’s tip in arousal. He slides his length through your slick folds, sure to grind against your clit. You gasp out his name as you throw your head back, so eager to move your hips in time with his. “Dirty girl,” he grins approvingly, hands raking over your soft thighs while his fingers dig into the flesh. “Wanna take my cock so bad.”

“Fuck, yeah,” you whimper. Your hands reach down to grab him in an attempt to position him at your entrance. He chuckles, obliging you as he sneaks himself inside, inch by inch. The way your cunt grips the tip of his cock makes his eyes roll back in his head, all the more eager to slip the rest of himself in until he bottoms out. Sam grabs your legs, propping them up against his torso, knees bent around his shoulders as he leans in, effectively tightening you up even more. Now that you’ve adjusted to him, Sebastian is greedily nudging his cock to your lips to part them enough to slip in. You moan and mumble around his thick dick as Sam begins thrusting in and out while his hands roam freely over your body.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he groans, half to Sebastian and half to himself.

He attaches his thumb to your swollen nub, rubbing circles into it. His hips angle upward to hit that sweet spot inside you as he grinds himself into your sweet cunt. If he didn’t feel good enough from the physical sensations your body is providing him, watching you drool around Sebastian’s cock, slack-jawed, eyelids heavy, would surely suffice. Seb grunts, “Chill, dude. You’re distracting her.”

Sam leans in, moving your legs to his sides to hover over you as he continues to fuck you. He’s in the perfect spot to take over your responsibilities and let you feel good. Sam opens his mouth, Sebastian redirecting his leaky tip to the blond’s tongue without a second thought. Sam bobs his head in time with his hips, the thick head slipping toward his throat as Sebastian tangles his hand into Sam’s wild hair, holding him down at random to gag on his length. You moan underneath them, fingers scratching along Sam’s back. “You’re both so good at sucking my cock,” Seb praises, brushing his thumb over Sam’s cheek.

“Who looks cuter doin’ it?” Sam challenges, to which he receives an apologetic shrug. “Fair enough.”

You push yourself up just a little, enough to reach Sebastian again. He holds himself between you two, allowing you to share him like you and Seb had shared Sam earlier. He’s not sure whether he likes being on the receiving end or the giving end better. Sam can feel himself approaching the edge all too soon, not ready to sit out and let Seb have all the fun. Your pussy clenches around him as your body collapses back to lay flat on the bed, fingers twisted into the sheets as you moan their names, “Cum for us, baby. Wanna see how much you like it. Gotta make sure you’re having fun,” he mumbles in your ear, speeding up his pace and shooing Sebastian off so he can focus in on helping you reach your orgasm. As it comes, Sam fights himself to not join in, though he’s not sure how he finds the will with the way your cunt sucks him in and holds tight around him. “Good girl,” he coos when you begin to come down, chest heaving with the excitement.

“My turn?” Seb questions.

“He hasn’t cum yet,” you mutter between gaspy panting.

“If Sam was gonna let himself cum, he would’ve already filled you with it.” Fuck Sebastian, he thinks he’s learned everything about Sam just because he’s jerked him off for years. And yeah, he’s right, but he just can’t let Sam seem mysterious.

Sam slides out of you, immediately missing the warm pressure your cunt provides. He helps you sit up before Sebastian tilts you onto your hands and knees while he stands on the side of the bed and teases you with his cock, much like Sam had. He bets it must feel so much wetter now with your cum leaking down your thighs. Fuck, even in the dim lighting of Sebastian’s basement room, he can see it glistening across your skin. Sam makes himself comfortable sitting against the wall on the bed next to you, stroking himself as you keep your eyes locked on him, Seb slowly entering you from behind. He watches your expression twist with pleasure, jaw dropping open as he fits his cock in, eyebrows drawing in as you moan out for Seb. Of course he’d rather be fucking you, but watching you get fucked is so good that his cock is throbbing in his grasp, aching for you. He wants you to relax, though, focus on taking Seb and feeling the deep angle he’s achieving, nudging so close to your cervix. “Feel good, baby?” he asks, brushing hair from your face. You nod fervently.

“You’re so fucking wet,” Seb chimes in, letting his hand swat at your ass as his hipbones smack against the backs of your thighs. “Damn, I dunno how you didn’t cum in her, Sam.”

“Was fuckin’ hard,” he assures.

“Make your mouth useful and suck him off,” Sebastian demands of you. You start to tilt toward Sam, but he quickly interrupts.

“I’ll move for ya, don’t worry.” He shifts over enough to lay his thighs on either side of your elbows, your head naturally falling to his lap. You take it in, already pushing him close to orgasm as his dick eagerly accepts stimulation from a source besides his hand. Seb continues to pound into you, forcing you to dig your palms into the mattress to brace yourself as you focus on Sam. He pets your hair in an attempt to make up for Seb’s brashness. The way you suck him, the way your throat closes around the tip of his cock as you swallow and gasp around his length—Yoba, he’s addicted to the feeling of it. His fingers grab at the roots of your hair more aggressively than he intends but he’s too far gone to hold back. “Your mouth is fuckin’ amazing, babe. Doin’ so good takin’ my cock down your throat while you’re getting stuffed by Seb. So good at letting us use our slut.”

“Gonna cum down her throat?” Sebastian grunts from behind you.

Sam nods, gulping down a whimper as your tongue swirls around his tip. “Don’t move,” he tells you, grabbing the sides of your face to hold you just above his dick. “Open wide, sweetheart.” You listen so good, sticking your tongue out to graze along Sam’s head as he frantically strokes himself to you getting pounded in front of him. Sebastian aids him, gripping at your hair to keep your neck craned for the blond. “You’re so pretty when you’re waiting for my cum,” Sam coos between quick breaths, hips starting to buck as he feels himself approaching his release. “Lips all swollen from bein’ a good slut. Shoulda told me you were such a good toy and we coulda fucked you a long time ago. Ready t’ take my cum?” You nod as best you can, moaning with your mouth wide. Just before the first spurt of cum shoots from his red tip, he positions it to your mouth and watches as it hits the roof of it before puddling on your tongue. The process repeats as he lets rope after rope go, some of it overshooting your awaiting mouth to cover your cheek or run down your chin. You patiently wait for him to stroke himself dry, slapping his length on your lips and smirking down at you. You show off the full mouth of cum before closing and swallowing. Sam grabs your chin, thumb tugging at your bottom lip and you open to show off your emptied mouth, swallowing it down without complaint. “Such a good girl,” he gushes.

Sebastian pulls out as you’ve finished Sam off, sitting on the side of the bed and pulling you to sit on his lap, back facing him. You rock your hips on his cock and he takes a second to admire your ass before pulling your back flush to his chest. Sam gets back on his feet to stand in front of you and the two boys work together to pull your feet up, knees bent to your chest, heels pressed to Sebastian’s spread knees. Sam watches now, Seb’s hands tight around your waist, your thighs spread wide, Seb’s cock fucking into your little cunt. He can’t help himself from taking a knee there, placing his hands over Seb’s, and licking from the base of Seb’s dick all the way up to your clit in a solid line. He can taste precum even through your arousal and remnants of your cum from Sam’s turn with your pussy, and fuck, that has to be the best thing he’s ever tasted. He continues the motions, earning higher-pitched moans from both of you.

“Enjoying yourself, babe?” Sebastian mumbles in your ear, pairing it with tender, wet kisses to the side of your neck.

“Mm-hmmm,” you quickly answer, one hand snaking down your torso to fall into Sam’s hair, keeping him in place.

“Gonna cum on my cock? Cum all over Sam’s face while he helps us?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good girl. Cum all over us, princess.” Sam focuses his attacks to your clit in an attempt to push you over the edge, your sweet little gasps and moans urging him to keep going until your hips are bucking wildly against the men. Sam spreads his attention back to cover Seb, set on helping him cum inside you as your pussy spasms around his length. He pulls his hand back from your waist to replace it over Sam’s, giving it a tight squeeze as he twitches under Sam’s tongue. Seb stills after a moment and Sam nearly pulls away until he catches a taste of cum, opening his eyes to watch it slip out of you and down Sebastian’s cock. Sam does his best to clean it up, basking in the raw sexual taste of your cum mixed together as you two work to catch your breath.

Having come down, you shift in Seb’s lap and the motion allows his cock to pop out, followed by another much larger gush of cum spilling from your pussy that gathers along Seb’s sticky cock. Sam takes it in his mouth, stealing a few deep sucks over the length of it as cum continues to leak out of your used hole. Just before you climb off, Sam takes a few passes at it to help manage the obscene wetness between your thighs.

The three of you slowly separate, ending up collapsed on the bed with you in the middle. Sam reaches across you to pull Seb in, effectively forming a cuddle puddle as he pulls your head into the crook of his neck and strokes your hair. “You did so good,” he reassures. “Did y’ have fun?”

You nod into him. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting all of this to happen tonight.”

“Sorry, guess I should’ve warned you.”

“You wanna stay over?” Seb asks.

“Yeah. I don’t think I can walk,” you joke.

“Tha’s fine,” he mumbles, sitting up to pull the soft comforter from the end of the bed up and over the three of you. He returns to spoon you and Sam can feel his thumb running over your nipple absentmindedly as he nuzzles into you. Sam settles in, flipping the light of the lamp off next to him and turning on a quiet television show to lull him to sleep. “Since Sam won’t, I’ll warn you this time,” Seb mutters sleepily. “You won’t be getting a lot of sleep laying naked between us.”

“I don’t mind,” you giggle.

Sam presses a kiss to your lips, exchanging a glance over your shoulder with Seb. Maybe they’ve finally found a keeper.

[echo-ethe]

[echo-ethe]

Tumblr, I propose a battle of wits!

I have put Iocaine powder in one of these two goblets. You choose, then we both drink.

[echo-ethe]

Somebody to Love

Pairing: Harry Castillo x waitress!reader

Summary: Harry finds someone who wants him for something other than his money.

Warnings: no spoilers!, language, flirting, rom-com meet-cute vibes, food and alcohol consumption, reader has two roommates that fit the rom-com vibe, smut (18+ MDNI), dry humping, unprotected piv sex, longing/yearning

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I haven't seen the movie yet so there's no spoilers, don't worry! This is written just knowing what we know from the trailers.

The first day he came into your diner, it was raining.

Well, more like pouring, actually.

You remembered because the little bell above the door clanged so loudly, you thought the ancient relic might have actually met its fate that day. When you turned to see who raced inside, it was him.

Harry.

He held a soaked copy of the New York Post in his hand. It was falling apart after doing an extremely poor job of keeping him dry in the sudden downpour. His dark hair was drenched and dripping all over the sticky tile floor. He blinked a few times, trying to get the rain out of his eyes without looking more pathetic than he already felt. He looked down at the destroyed newspaper and made a face before lifting his chin and scanning the restaurant.

That's when he spotted you.

He hesitated for a moment before offering up a lopsided grin and a shoulder shrug as you made your way towards him.

"Do you have a trash can I can borrow?"

You circled the host stand and held out the plastic bin, only to tease, "If you're borrowing it, that means you'll bring it back, right?"

He took a second then laughed politely at your shitty joke before dropping the newspaper into the empty bin with a solid thump.

"Consider it returned," he smiled, dark brown eyes sparkling despite the agitation he had felt moments before when he was caught in the rain.

You showed him to a table, one near the window, and brought him a coffee — to warm you up, you had said. He wrapped his hands gratefully around the stained mug and took a sip. When he swallowed, he paused, then looked up at you with genuine shock.

"This is... good."

You giggled. "Thanks."

"No, I mean—" He stopped to take another sip and made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat. "This is really good."

"You have a beautiful way with words," you teased again.

"Some of these expensive cafés around here don't make coffee half this good," he continued, taking another gulp.

"Well, I guess I've found my hidden talent," you shrugged.

The way he smiled at you had your heart skipping a beat.

There were other tables that probably needed to be cleaned or wanted their check, but you couldn't force yourself to step away. Something about him was magnetic.

And at the time, he really didn't seem all that special to the naked eye. He was just wearing a pair of worn jeans, an oversized brown jacket, and a basic looking tshirt underneath. He looked like every other working man within a five mile radius of your diner that stopped in for lunch every day. And yet... something pulled you to him.

Something must have pulled him to you, too, because a week later, he returned.

"No New York Post?" you asked when you greeted him at the door, hoping you didn't look too eager to see him.

He shook his head and pointed to the trash can.

"That's the only place The Post belongs. Only had it that day because someone left it at a bus stop bench. It was all I had."

"Desperate times," you mused before leading him to a table.

He looked a little dressier that day: slacks, but with a polo shirt. The only ring he had was on his pinky, one you were rather convinced was a fake emerald. You smiled to yourself, tucking away the lack-of-a-wedding-band note for later.

When he sat down, you noticed for the first time he placed a compact umbrella on the booth next to him before picking up the menu. You grinned and pointed to it with your ballpoint pen.

"Hey, you got yourself an umbrella," you said, "moving up in the world."

He looked up at you with those soft brown eyes again, the ones that crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the very same eyes you couldn't get out of your head for a week.

"I learn from my mistakes."

He became a regular after that. Once a week, every Thursday around one in the afternoon. You weren't sure if the time just suited him best or if he picked it because he knew you would be working.

You had hoped it was the latter.

About two months later, the diner was unusually busy. A tour bus had stopped outside and the restaurant was overloaded with thirty extra patrons. The kitchen was slammed, the counters were a mess, and of course one of the servers had called off that day.

You forgot it was Thursday. Harry had come in and seen the chaos. He tried to catch your eye but you were too busy balancing four plates on your arms to notice.

Another waitress, Darcy, hurried up to greet him, looking equally as frazzled as you but still offered to clean a table in her section. Harry turned her down, said he wanted to wait for you, and leaned against the wall watching you work with a small smile on his face.

Once one of your tables got up, Darcy helped you clean it and murmured quietly that you had a request at the door. You glanced up, saw him, and grinned happily despite the stressful lunch hour.

"Not in a rush today?" you asked when you led him to your only open table. He slid into the booth and shook his head.

"Nothing that can't wait."

"I'm honored," you said sweetly with a hand pressed to your chest. He smirked and his eyes quickly scanned you up and down.

"You're worth waiting for."

It knocked the wind out of you at first. You blinked like you weren't sure you heard him right, then exhaled a nervous laugh.

"Careful or I might think you're flirting with me."

"So what if I am?"

You laughed again and felt your face heat up. You started to fan yourself with your notepad, which only made Harry's smile grow bigger.

"Oh, you must be a heartbreaker," you teased.

"What makes you say that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, still smiling. You leaned forward, placing both palms flat on the freshly washed tabletop, and lowered your voice.

"You're a smooth-talker, Harry," you said, refusing to break eye contact. "I'll bet you have a waitress you visit every day of the week. I'm just Miss. Thursday."

He threw his head back and laughed. Like, really laughed. And it made you smile so big that you dropped your chin to your chest to hide.

When his laughter finally died down, you lifted your head to look at him again, both of you wearing matching grins.

"Not true," he said, his dimple catching your eye and making your heart flutter a bit. "Let me take you out for dinner," he finally added, and even though you saw it coming, you still felt a rush of excitement shoot through you when you heard the words.

"Yeah? So you can introduce me to Miss. Friday?"

"Is that when you're free?"

You nodded, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

"Then tomorrow it is," he said firmly, "and you can pick the restaurant."

You whistled low and straightened back up. Your other tables were clearing up and heading to the front to pay, but you couldn't care less.

"Anywhere?"

He nodded and folded his hands confidently in his lap.

"Anywhere."

"And what if I have expensive tastes, Mr. Castillo?" you asked with a flirty tone.

"I can afford it," he assured you, still wearing the same smile.

"Even Nova?" You had said the first fancy, most hard-to-get-into restaurant you could think of, just as a joke. But Harry nodded without missing a beat.

"Nova it is."

You laughed and shook your head.

"I was just kidding," you said, "seriously, I'm good with anything—"

"Would you like to eat at Nova?" he asked, cutting you off. You paused for a moment.

"Well... maybe one day," you shrugged, "but the waiting list to get in is, like—"

"How's eight work for you?" He was already tapping away on his phone, offering it like it was nothing.

"Uh— s-sure," you sputtered. "Eight works."

He held up his phone for you to take. "Save your number and address. I'll pick you up."

He said it like he serious, but by Friday you still expected him to show up and admit it was just for laughs and maybe take you to some hole in the wall Italian spot, if you were lucky.

You were just fixing your hair and smoothing down your dress when your two roommates squealed from the window.

"He's here!"

"Oh, damn — he's got a Mercedes? Who is this guy?"

You snatched your purse and ran out into the living room, wedging yourself between them. Your jaw dropped when you saw Harry step out of the driver's side and round the front, casually buttoning his smart looking jacket and glancing around the relatively quiet street. But before he ascended the stairs to your building's front door, he looked up and spotted your three faces practically pressed against the dirty glass.

"Fuck!" you giggled when you all flew away from the window. Then a moment later, the buzzer rang.

"Y-Yeah," you stammered, pressing the answer button with a stupid grin.

"It's Harry."

You pressed the other button to unlock the door, then pushed your one roommate out of the way so you could make sure you didn't have lipstick on your teeth.

"What does he do again?"

"Who fucking cares!"

"Shhh!!" you hissed right when a firm knock came from the door.

"I'll get it!" Melanie sang, skipping to the door to cut you off. She flung it open just as you were reaching for her shoulder to yank her back, revealing Harry on the other side. His face lit up when he saw you, then his gaze dropped to Mel and he politely held out his hand.

"I'm Harry—"

"I know," she gushed, grabbing his hand and shaking it roughly. He grinned and glanced at you quickly before looking back at her. "I'm Melanie, that one's Liv."

Harry nodded at Liv perched on the couch who was waving at him like a fucking lunatic.

"Nice to meet you both." His eyes scanned the modest apartment behind you. "Cute place. How long have—"

"Let's go!" you said, pushing Mel out of the way and sneaking out the door.

"Have her back by midnight!" Melanie shouted as you were dragging him away.

"Yeah! But if you don't, at least do us all a favor and rock her world. It's been a while!" Liv added.

"Oh, my god!" you screeched over your shoulder while Harry chuckled softly next to you. "I'm going to kill—"

The apartment door slammed shut. You could hear their combined giggles, even though you were already halfway down the hall.

Harry cleared his throat, biting back a smile while you fanned your face in embarrassment.

"I am — so sorry about them," you said, stepping onto the elevator. "They're just... they're assholes," you laughed before tapping the L button repeatedly. "Sorry, it takes a few tries," you mumbled, then sighed happily when the button finally lit up and the doors slid shut.

An awkward silence settled around you as you waited for the elevator to take you to the lobby.

Fucking Mel and Liv, you seethed to yourself while sparing a nervous glance in Harry's direction. He was staring straight ahead at the closed doors, smiling in that way that made your knees weak, and you felt yourself smile back.

"So..." you began, breathing a sigh of relief when the doors opened. He pressed his palm against the side so they wouldn't shut, and looked at you expectantly. You blinked and cursed under your breath when it occurred to you he was waiting for you to go first, then hurried over the threshold and out into the run-down lobby.

"So," he echoed, opening the door for you to step outside. At least that time, you expected it and didn't look like a complete idiot. But then he stopped you before you could take one step down and offered his arm. You thanked him softly, looking shyly down at his crooked elbow, and looped your hand through.

If Liv didn't make it abundantly clear you hadn't been on a date in a while, it sure as hell was obvious to him now.

"You look—"

You stopped short when you heard tapping on the glass above your heads. As Harry was reaching to open the passenger side door, you looked up to find Mel and Liv making obscene gestures towards you and your date. Mel was miming a blowjob while Liv dry humped the air. Your eyes widened in horror and your jaw dropped. Harry turned to you, noticed your expression, but before he could spin around to look up, you grabbed his face, keeping his eyes locked on you.

"If you have any respect for me," you said lowly, "you will not look up right now."

He laughed and stepped back so you could get into his car, silently promising to ignore your roommates.

"Anyway," you laughed when he had finally pulled away from the curb. "You look so nice. I had no idea you cleaned up so well."

Harry grinned as he smoothly changed lanes.

"What, this old thing?" he joked, referring to his perfectly tailored black suit. When he came to a stop at a red light, he looked over at you. His gaze slid down your form, taking in the deep purple dress you had borrowed from Liv that was just a little too tight, but in a way that showed off your curves.

"You look absolutely beautiful," he breathed after what felt like an eternity. The way he said it made it sound like he was truly blown away and it caused a wave of goosebumps to flash across your skin.

"Thank you," you murmured shyly.

The light changed to green and you grew distracted with the car — the smooth as butter leather, the tinted windows, the hundreds of fancy looking controls that reminded you of a space ship. Your gaze kept darting all around, taking everything in.

"What do you do, Harry?" you asked.

You had asked him a few times before, and every time he managed to change the subject or sidestep the question. It didn't even occur to you he kept giving you non-answers until the night before, when you were telling Mel and Liv about your date and the question inevitably came up.

"What? I never told you?"

You shook your head and the corner of his mouth turned up into a half-smile.

"Huh... hold on, we're almost there," he said, pulling up behind a convertible with a logo on the back you didn't recognize, but based on the way people on the sidewalk were gawking, told you it was expensive.

And yet again, Harry managed to distract you. When you looked up and saw the sign for Nova above an impossibly gorgeous looking restaurant, your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

"Are you serious?" you gasped. Harry looked at you, confused.

"You said—"

"I know what I said," you replied, "I didn't think— h-how did you—"

You couldn't get the words out. It was insane. It had to be one of the hottest restaurants in New York City, and yet Harry was able to get a reservation on a Friday night with barely twenty-four hours notice?

Your door opened and a young man in an impeccably pressed suit stood on the outside, offering you his arm. You gently took it while Harry got out on the other side, sliding a bill to the valet and rounding the front of his car to join you on the sidewalk.

"Ready?"

You nodded, speechless, as you took his arm. He led you up through the huge double doors and to the hostess, giving his name with practiced ease. She tapped something on a computer, smiled at you both, and led you through the restaurant.

It was dark, but in a warm, comfortable way. The guests were not rowdy, the kitchen was silent, and there was a pianist playing classical music in the center of the dining room.

A far cry from your diner.

"Here you are. Enjoy your meal," the hostess said once she reached your table. It was off to the side of the room. Private.

Harry pulled your chair back and looked at you, smiling at the way you were utterly and completely stunned.

"Thank you," you whispered, sitting primly in the chair. In front of you, there was an intimidating set of silverware on top of a white linen tablecloth. A candle was placed between you both, along with a small bouquet of flowers.

Harry sat down across from you, unbuttoning his suit and arching an eyebrow in your direction.

"Is it living up to your expectations, Miss. Thursday?"

You giggled and nodded.

"It's a step up from the diner, that's for sure."

"But the coffee's terrible," he grinned. Then he leaned forward, looking side to side quickly before meeting your eye. "Waitresses aren't as pretty, either."

Your cheeks burned and you laughed again, fanning yourself while looking away. Harry chuckled and leaned back in his chair.

"It's cute when you do that," he said. You dropped your hand and looked back at him.

"Do what?"

"When I pay you a compliment, you fan yourself," he said. "Very 50s movie star. I like that."

"Oh," you replied softly, "I didn't even realize. But... thank you."

"You're welcome." He folded his hands in his lap and crossed one leg over the other under the table.

When your server arrived to get your drink order, Harry sensed your discomfort right away.

"Do you like wine?" he asked, taking charge. You nodded. "Red or white?"

"Red."

"We'll take the bottle of the 1982 Chateau Latour Pauillac," he said, looking up at the waiter.

You stared dumbly at Harry after the server disappeared to get your wine.

"That sounds really expensive."

"Thought you had expensive tastes?" he reminded you with a smirk.

"I was joking," you said, "I drink wine out of a box! I can't tell the difference!"

He laughed and leaned forward again, resting on his elbows when he said, "Can I tell you a secret?"

You nodded and leaned forward, as well.

"I can't tell the difference, either."

You dissolved into a fit of giggles just as the server arrived with your bottle of wine. He took a customary sniff and taste before nodding his approval, then waited until your glasses were filled before addressing you again.

"Are you okay with the tasting menu?" Harry asked.

"Uh, yeah," you said, then looked up at the waiter and nodded. "Sounds great."

After he left, you tried to mimic Harry. You picked up your glass, swirled it a bit, took a sniff and then a tiny sip. He watched you with an amused look as you smacked your lips together, looking deep in thought.

"Hm," you hummed, "I'm getting notes of... cherry... and..."

You glanced over at Harry and tried not to laugh.

"Amber."

He gave you that wide smile that brought out that dimple you loved.

"Amber?" he repeated. "What's amber?"

"I have no idea," you laughed, "I was trying to impress you. Did it work?"

"Oh, yeah. Big time," he said, making you laugh again.

Halfway through the tasting menu, you realized no one had ever made you laugh as much as Harry did. Your cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn't stop. He just had something about him that made you feel so comfortable and at ease, even if you were way out of your element.

"Hey," you said suddenly right as the server was putting dessert in front of you. Harry cocked his head to the side, waiting. "You never told me what you do for work."

He slowly grinned, nodded his thanks to the waiter, then lifted his wine glass to his lips.

"What'd you think of the wine?" he asked.

You shook your head and gave him a fake look of disapproval.

"Nuh uh. No changing the subject," you said. He chuckled and set his glass down.

"Alright. Private equity," he sighed, lacing his fingers together and ignoring his dessert completely. You blinked and frowned.

"What does that mean?" you asked, feeling dumb.

"I buy companies, strip them down, make them better, and sell them for more money," he answered plainly.

You nodded and took a bite of your dessert.

"Sounds... interesting."

"No, it doesn't," he smiled. You laughed, hiding your smile behind your hand.

"No, it really doesn't," you agreed, making him laugh, too. "Do you like it?"

He shrugged and finally lifted a fork to scoop up a piece of tart.

"I'm good at it."

"But do you like it?"

"Sometimes. The people can be draining but when it pays off, it's rewarding."

"Yeah. That's how I feel about the diner, too," you sighed, feigning seriousness when you added, "it's almost like we do the exact same thing, huh?"

You made him laugh and once again, you were amazed by how easy it was to be with him already.

After Harry paid what appeared to be an absolutely ridiculous bill that made you squirm a little in your seat, you were faced with the awkward part of the date that you almost forgot about.

Does he take you home? Does he ask you to come back to his place? Would you go?

"Want to take a walk?" he asked when you both stepped outside of the restaurant, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "Weather's nice. Unless— those shoes—"

He looked down at your heels but you quickly shook your head.

"No, I'm good. A walk sounds nice."

Luckily, he walked slow because you were lying — your shoes were not made for comfort. But you were willing to sacrifice it to spend a little more time with him.

The street was bustling with life, but it wasn't very loud. A few people laughed while sharing cigarettes outside of a bar. A man with earbuds and vibrant, reflective clothes jogged by, minding his own business. An older woman wearing a chic poncho with a full face of makeup walked her small dog across the street.

It was a nicer neighborhood than the one you lived in, that was for certain.

"Thank you again for dinner," you said after the silence stretched on a little too long.

"You're welcome," he replied, then waited a beat or two before adding, "If this isn't your scene or you don't feel comfortable, we don't have to do stuff like this next time. We can do anything you want."

You frowned, confused.

"I liked it," you said slowly, "it's definitely not like anything I've ever experienced before, but I still liked it."

"Yeah?" he asked, stopping suddenly. You did the same and turned to gaze up at him.

"Yeah. Of course."

He looked relieved. His face relaxed a bit and he gave you a small smile. Then you shot him a coy look when you added, "So there will be a next time, then?"

He smiled wider and tipped his chin up so he could glance at the night sky, and that was when you noticed the flush creeping up his neck, just past his collar.

"I sure as hell hope so."

He looked back down, eyes flickering across your face and settling briefly on your lips before finding your eyes again.

"I'd love that," you said, feeling the warmth creeping up your own neck from the way he looked at you.

Then, he brought a hand up to cup your face, his dark brown eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

"Can I kiss you?"

He said it so softly, almost like he was nervous, but you found it hard to believe. How could someone like him be nervous around someone like you?

You felt yourself drift a little closer, that magnetic pull doing you in. His cologne invaded your senses, his warmth curled around you like a blanket, and you nodded, unable to form the word yes.

He was gentle at first, and his lips were unexpectedly soft against yours. He moved slow, savoring every second, massaging your lips tenderly against his own and learning the feel of you for the first time.

You melted into him so easily. The hand on your face gripped you a little harder when your lips parted, and when he deepened the kiss, you could still taste lemon and wine on his tongue.

He stepped forward and you stumbled backwards, arms flying up to wrap around his neck. His free hand found your lower back and he guided you further until you felt the cool press of brick behind you.

Within a minute, the kiss went from gentle to heated. You were firmly stuck between Harry and a brick wall, and all you could do was try to keep up with the intensity behind each swipe of his tongue against yours. His beard pressed into your chin, burning the skin there, making his mark, but you loved it.

You were completely lost in it, in him. The way he smelled, the way he felt, the way he kissed you like he may never get another chance again. Months of weekly visits to the diner that left you wanting all built up to that moment and neither of you could seem to stop.

That is, until a group of people out drinking walked by with a low whistle aimed in your direction and finally, Harry tore himself away.

"Christ," he chuckled, still standing too close and still holding your face. You both panted for air and stared at one another, searching each other's eyes, trying to get a read.

"Maybe I should — I should take you home."

You threaded your fingers through the hair on the back of his head and before you could lose your nerve, said:

"Or you can show me where you live."

He didn't hesitate, which thrilled you, and fifteen minutes later, you found yourself in his car with his hand firmly planted on your thigh as he drove you across town.

"Tribeca?" you asked, peering around.

"Yep."

"Wow," you breathed, looking out the window. Every building you passed by looked more impressive than the last until Harry turned down a street and slowed down.

The doorman jumped to attention, snapping his fingers at a younger man behind a counter, the both of them rushing outside.

"Mr. Castillo," the doorman greeted warmly when Harry stepped out. Harry nodded, murmured good evening, and rounded the car to open your door. From the corner of your eye, you saw the doorman swat the other on the shoulder, who shrugged and made a perplexed face in return.

Your hand slid easily into Harry's and he shut the door behind you.

"My apologies," the doorman said to you, "we didn't realize you would be having a guest this evening," he added, looking at Harry.

"It's alright," he said smoothly while handing the keys and a folded bill to the younger man. "I'll take any chance to prove I'm a gentleman."

They chuckled and you smiled, but mostly for a different reason: it appeared Harry didn't bring guests home often.

The lobby was stunning. Bright crystal chandeliers hung above your heads. The carpet was the softest, thickest carpet you ever stepped foot on. Two gorgeous fireplaces sat on either end of the spacious room and in front of each was a sitting area filled with couches and chairs and tables. Even the elevator was beautiful. Inside the car was mirrored with golden edges. Soft music filtered through the air and just when you noticed the ornate light fixture above you, Harry swiped a card and pressed the P button on the elevator, making your jaw drop.

"Penthouse?" you squeaked.

He gave you a strained smile and glanced down at his watch.

Your brows furrowed for a moment, trying to figure out what was going through his head.

You stepped off the elevator, following Harry into his apartment. Lights were already on and dimmed throughout the space, as if they were on timers. He watched you take a few hesitant steps forward and slowly spin around, taking everything in. Your eyes trailed over the marble kitchen countertops, the plush velvet chairs in the sitting room, the massive television, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking a breathtaking view. But it lacked... something.

Harry remained silent, waiting for you to turn back to him. When you did, you gave him a small smile and said, "Is this all?"

He laughed softly and pushed off the wall to join you.

"What do you think?" he asked, brushing his knuckles up and down your arm.

"Do you like it?"

It was the second time you asked him that question in one evening.

"Yes. I do."

You nodded and took a step forward, closing the small gap between you.

"Then I like it, too."

His mouth found yours once again, kissing you with an urgency that had you wondering if it was more than just lust behind it. Either way, you matched it, tongue swirling in tandem with his and fingers weaving eagerly through his hair as he blindly walked you both through the kitchen, towards where you assumed his bedroom would be.

When you stumbled past the threshold to his room, you giggled from your combined excitement, breaking the kiss. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, lips peppering kisses all the way to your pulse point. You craned your neck to the side and your eyes fluttered closed with a soft moan. His hands searched your dress, looking for the zipper, pulling hastily at the fabric as the backs of your legs bumped up against his bed.

"Careful," you whispered, and his groping stilled. "I borrowed this, it's not mine," you explained with a laugh. Harry pulled away from your neck to catch his breath and gaze down at you. His face looked flushed, eyes a little glassy, and his lips already swollen. Something about seeing a man so put together look so wrecked, all because of you, sent a tingle down your spine.

"I could buy a hundred more to replace it," he reminded you with one lifted eyebrow.

You grinned. "I don't care."

Something flickered across his face. Something soft, not unlike disbelief. Then his hands were on you again, searching for the zipper now that he could see properly.

In a heartbeat, the dress became a purple puddle at your feet and Harry was lowering you carefully onto his bed with his mouth nipping and sucking up and down the column of your throat, pulse coming alive at his touch.

You arched your back and dragged a hand through his hair with a gasp, holding him against your neck while your hips lift, searching for friction and thank god, he gave it to you. He dropped his weight between your legs with a grunt and grinds, soaking up every delicious sound you made underneath him.

His hands found the straps of your bra and he slipped them past your shoulders, kissing every inch of skin as he went. With a speed that made you gasp, Harry reached behind and unclasped your bra, then tossed it to the side to join your dress and shoes.

Without missing a beat, he continued to plant wet kisses all the way down your sternum, between your breasts, and only then did he pause to look up at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"You're so fucking beautiful, do you know that?"

You couldn't answer him. The words got lodged in your throat when his mouth wrapped around your breast, sucking and flicking his tongue over your nipple while you writhed impatiently beneath him.

"Fuck," you moaned as he continued to explore your body, like he was mapping you, memorizing you. "Harry — please..."

You were tugging feebly at his pristine white button down, his suit coat long forgotten somewhere in the journey from the front door to his bedroom.

He reared back at your plea and began to feverishly unbutton the shirt, his gaze all the while raking up and down your nearly naked body like he was drinking you in.

When he shoved the shirt past his shoulders, he made an annoyed noise in the back of his throat when the fabric caught on his wrists, forgetting entirely about his cufflinks.

He dropped each one into the silk sheets and nearly ripped his shirt off, far too eager to get his mouth back where it belonged — on you.

He fell forward onto his arms and continued to kiss you everywhere he could reach while your hands snaked between your bodies, working shakily on his leather belt.

"Jesus — get these off," you huffed, pushing down on the waistband of his slacks. He chuckled against your neck and helped you, kicking the offensive material to the floor and flinging his white undershirt off to join the rapidly growing pile of clothes.

You sucked in a deep breath at the sight of his bare chest for the first time. He took care of himself — that much was clear. But he wasn't overly buff and his stomach was still a little soft. You dragged your palms slowly up and down his tanned skin, admiring every curve and slope until your fingers found the band of his boxers. His stomach tensed when you slid your hand inside and you heard him stifle a groan when your fingers curled around his cock.

"I wanna see it," you murmured in his ear while slowly stroking him up and down. His hips lazily followed your hand, his hot breath skittered across your chest, and even though you were in the middle of this world, surrounded by extravagance you could only ever dream of, the only thing he wanted was you.

He granted your request, pulling down his boxers and freeing his cock, leaving him entirely bare to you. He watched with heavy eyes as you continued to work him with your fist, enjoying the way he twitched in your palm when your lips parted greedily at the sight of him in your hand.

He had enough. He couldn't take it any longer. His fingers curled around the edge of your black panties, stretching them away from your hips, slowly, before looking up at you.

"You borrow these, too?"

You shook your head then yelped when the fabric tore suddenly away from your hips.

"Jesus!" you giggled, but his mouth hastily slanted over yours, silencing you with a deep kiss that had your head swimming and your knees weak.

"Been thinking about this for weeks," he confessed, the words slipping past his lips and pouring into your mouth. One arm dropped down to grip himself at the base and your own hands instantly grabbed onto his broad shoulders, bracing yourself for what was to happen next.

"Me, too," you whispered, but he just shook his head while lining himself up at your entrance.

"No, it's not the same," he murmured back. "You're all I can think about. Driving me fucking crazy every second of the day. Wondered what you were doing—" You felt the blunt tip of him breach your cunt and you inhaled sharply. "Wondered— wondered what it would be like to— to— fuck..."

You gasped in unison when he pressed inside, parting your wet walls with ease, like he was always meant to be there. You whimpered his name and clawed at his shoulders, unable to look away from his face contorting with pleasure, at the feeling of you wrapping around him for the first time.

"To — what?" you exhaled when he was fully seated inside of you. His nose nudged the side of your head and he planted a tender kiss to your temple.

"Wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you every day."

It was so unexpectedly sweet. It had your stomach twisting as you pulled him back down to your mouth, your hand cupping the back of his neck to keep him close.

He rolled his hips forward, slowly, allowing you both a chance to adjust to the tight fit of his cock inside of you. You moaned into his mouth and it just spurred him on. His hand found a home on your hip, thumb pressing into the crease at the top of your thigh, then he did it again — he pulled halfway out just to slowly glide right back in, basking in the way you stretched for him.

"You're perfect," he murmured against your lips. Your eyebrows pinched together, gasping at the heavy weight of him every time he pushed forward. "You're so sweet and beautiful and fucking — perfect."

He groaned the last word, burying himself as deep as possible as if to emphasize his point. You shuddered in his arms, unable to articulate just how good, how full, how complete you felt. All you could manage to do was nip weakly at his chin and rock your hips upward, encouraging him to move faster, to take more — take all of you.

So, he did. He picked up the pace until he found a rhythm that made your mouth hang open and your legs shake. He was hypnotized, watching the way your eyes rolled back and your tits bounced with every harsh thrust. The only thing that kept you firmly in place was his hand pressing down on your hip as he took and took and took.

"God, you're pretty," he moaned. He was overcome with you, completely sunk and drowning. "So fucking pretty like this. I'll never get enough. Never — shit — never get enough."

The huge, sprawling bedroom was filled with the sounds of your skin slapping together punctuated with the soft noises you murmured into one another's skin. It was as if nothing else even existed outside of that space, even though you were very much firmly in the heart of one of the busiest cities in the world. You were both so lost in each other that nothing else mattered.

He groaned when he felt your arousal dripping down his shaft and onto his sheets. You were just so tight and warm and perfect, it was driving him insane and he wished more than anything that he could come inside you. He wanted to see the way he spilled out of your pussy and leaked down your soft thighs. He wanted the image burned into his brain for eternity.

"Harry—" you whined, nails digging into his back. "Oh god, don't stop! Don't— don't stop— ple—"

His mouth captured yours once again, quieting you while also giving you exactly what you wanted. He snapped his hips ruthlessly, knocking the air from your lungs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You pulsed around his cock and whined so sweetly into his mouth that it had him feeling dizzy and reckless.

He slipped his tongue past your lips when you came, his name garbled in your throat in a way that made him feel like a fucking god. You tore yourself away, too desperate for fresh air, and dropped your head lazily into his pillow as you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

"Harry," you sighed, and his skin prickled at the sound. Your eyelids drooped and your swollen lips parted to drag in more air. You were so spent but still wanted him to feel good, so you tightened your hold around his waist and dragged your fingers through his sweat soaked hair.

"Come for me," you whispered into his ear. You felt his entire body shudder at your command and a jolt of confidence ripped through you.

"I will," he gasped, vision blurring with every wet smack of his hips against yours. "I will, baby. I wi— I'll give you anything you want. I'll — oh, f-fuck..."

Your teeth gently grazed the shell of his ear, just enough to sharpen his senses. His arms wrapped around you, holding you still as he fucked you hard now, chasing his own release.

"Inside me?" you asked. The way your voice sounded so sweet and innocent had his cock instantly swelling.

"N-no, I can't." He couldn't risk it but it still broke his heart to tell you no.

You made a disappointed noise but you didn't push it. You loosened your legs and a few hard thrusts later he was pulling out of you with a grunt. Your legs dropped to the mattress, shaky and loose. You rolled your head and watched in a trance as Harry hovered above you, jerking his cock with clenched teeth until he stilled with a low, deep moan. A moment later, you felt hot spurts of cum painting your stomach and mound. It was filthy, the way you loved being covered in him, how you reveled in the feeling of his sticky release on your skin.

He looked dazed and breathless when he was done, staring down at you with bleary eyes as he gasped for air. But then his gaze brightened when he watched you lift a lazy finger to swipe through his mess, collecting a taste and popping it into your mouth with a moan.

"Jesus," he groaned, and you giggled. He pushed a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before forcing himself to stand.

"I'll get you something," he said, stumbling for a moment. You eyed his soaked, semi-hard cock appreciatively before he turned to his bathroom. He returned with the softest washcloth you'd ever felt in your life. You almost told him not to use it, that you felt bad ruining it, then remembered where you were and who you were with and refrained.

Afterwards, he was incredibly sweet. He pulled you into his arms and turned out the lights, both of you still naked between his silk sheets. His thumb rubbed gentle circles against your arm and his lips occasionally brushed lovingly over your eyes, nose, or forehead.

In return, you pressed lazy kisses against his throat and slotted your leg in between his, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"I had a really nice time tonight," you finally said, breaking the silence and making him laugh.

"Me, too," he replied, gazing at you in the beam of moonlight that cast across his bed.

You bit your bottom lip shyly and glanced around his bedroom. There hadn't been much of an opportunity to take it all in before, but now in the quiet stillness of night, you realized his room was unusually bare with the exception of his huge bed and one large abstract painting on the wall.

"Did you just move in?"

He shook his head, eyes still locked on you. "No."

He could tell you were curious but didn't want to pry, so he threw you a lifeline.

"I could've hired a decorator but," he glanced around, looking a little forlorn. "I wanted to wait and do it myself. With someone."

"Oh," you breathed softly. Then, sensing his vulnerability, added, "I would have done the same thing. It's part of what makes a house a home, you know?"

His dark eyes flashed to yours and he smiled.

"Yeah, that's right."

You grinned and snuggled a little closer into his chest. His lips found the top of your head and he hummed, content. Your eyes slid closed and you could feel your body relaxing, ready to drift off to sleep when he spoke again.

"I have a confession to make."

Your eyes snapped back open and you looked up expectantly.

"I don't think I can wait til Thursday to see you again," he smirked. Your heart skipped a beat and you pretended to think it over for a second.

"Well... I guess I could make some time on Monday or Tuesday," you mused.

"How about both?"

You swallowed and nodded, hoping you didn't come off too eager when you said, "Yeah, I think that would work."

As he pressed a tender kiss to your lips to seal the deal, you mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on your mind since the day before.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

He looked at you like he was completely smitten, like he was ready to give you the world on a silver platter if you asked.

"Since we're making confessions, I have a question that's been bothering me," you said carefully. His smile faltered, but only for a moment.

"What is it?"

"Why didn't you tell me about all of this before? When I asked what you did for work, you always blew me off. I was starting to think you were unemployed but—" you laughed and looked out the partially covered window overlooking Manhattan. "—I was way off."

Harry sighed and rolled onto his back, bringing you with him to lay on his chest.

"I haven't had a very good track record with dating," he said. "And usually when women find out what I do, all they see is the money, the lifestyle, the parties, but..." he trailed off for a moment, fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair. "I just wanted someone to want me for me."

You tilted your chin up, giving him a sorrowful look as you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look at you.

"I want you for you," you told him firmly. He smiled, took your hand from his face, and turned it over to kiss your palm.

"I know."

Truthfully, he knew before he even asked you out on a date. The months he spent getting to know you at the diner had him convinced. But when he told you what he did and showed you where he lived and your only reaction — your first concern — was did he like it? Well, that gave him all the hope in the world that you just might be that someone to help him decorate his home one day.