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emphistic · 2 months

Text

Heaven Knows

synopsis. Lieutenant Ryomen has a problem; he was assigned a personal medic, a really pretty one, at that. And, since you were his medic, that also meant you were his in every other aspect, right?

cw. military au, fem reader, enemies to lovers, not so secret pining, jealousy (from Sukuna's end), eventual smut, hanky panky on a desk, answering the phone during s-x, guns, creampie

an. dont fact check anything, this is just fanFICTION 🤗

Available on Ao3

“You should really try to be less reckless, sir.” This was probably the fourth time this evening you let out a huge sigh — and for good reason — while disinfecting the wound. The lieutenant had made more trips to the infirmary this week than you could count on one hand. It was completely unlike him.

“I couldn’t help it,” Sukuna said, in that smooth voice of his. “I was thinking about something much more important than training.”

“So important that you had to get a bullet lodged in your arm, Lieutenant?” you quipped, mentally rolling your eyes.

The pink-haired man gave a bark-laugh, before he replied, “Of course.”

“I didn’t even know they allowed weapons in the training room, much less, guns.”

“Like you would know anything about stuff like that, Doc,” Sukuna scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, adding, “Lieutenant, you do realize your life is in my hands, right now? I wouldn’t say such insensitive remarks if I were you.”

“In that case, I would truly be a happy man dying by the hands of a darling like you.”

When you first received a position at base, you were filled in about all the sergeants, lieutenants, captains, colonels, etcetera, by your fellow colleagues. And while you did have some trouble remembering their ranks — unless you frequently conversed with them, you managed to learn their names, their faces, and their attributes — personality and looks wise — within a week.

Satoru Gojo was a lively, energetic man. You often wondered how someone in his line of work managed to have a smile on their face almost every second of the day. On the other hand, he was rather infamous for fraternizing every opportunity he had, whether it be while being stitched up or even while exchanging flirtatious comments towards enemies on the field. Consequently, he was known more by the title of “Womanizer” rather than by his callsign, “Six Eyes”, which was given to him after he wore two pairs of glasses at once — for reasons beyond you.

Suguru Geto was a much more refined man than the one mentioned before. You often joked between coworkers that he was born to balance out the white-haired man child. It was undeniable that Geto was an exceptionally handsome guy, and you sometimes even caught yourself staring at his sharp jawline. Fortunately, he was both brawns and brains, but he did have quite a foul mouth when it came to insulting the opposing sides while on a mission.

Toji Fushiguro could be described many ways, but calling him muscular was definitely an understatement. You couldn’t find out much details about him, seeing as he didn’t open up much, but you knew he was a happily married man with an absolutely adorable son, whom he took pride in showing pictures of him on his phone in the mess hall.

And lastly, the lieutenant, Sukuna Ryomen. Your first meeting with him was purely impromptu.

After being placed at base, you had taken a habit of using the more personal kitchen whenever the mess hall was closed and you needed a cup of coffee after dealing with so many patients. Luck was on your side that night when you hastily turned to return to your office and were face to face with a man whose mere presence exhibited a feeling of immense fear. Instinctively, you chucked your oh-so dear mug of coffee at the man. When you recognized his rank soon after, and consequently, your subordination, you apologized profusely. And to your surprise, he only let out a laugh, saying, “You’re an interesting breed,” before continuing on his way, leaving you dumbfounded and alone.

Some time after, for reasons unbeknownst to you, you were assigned as someone’s personal medic, which, even to you, was a new term. You didn’t know personal medics existed, and you had no clue what purpose they served being personal. Thus, you were a little curious. When you entered the captain’s office, to meet that someone, you almost shit yourself once you recognized those formidable tattoos and distinctive pink hair. At that moment, you had never had the role of patching up Lieutenant Ryomen, you mainly found yourself taking care of lower ranks, but now you were his personal medic? Unheard of.

You quickly learned what it meant to be a behemoth of a man’s personal medic. You were to be the only person who would be stitching up, patching up, and in general, taking care of Sukuna Ryomen. However, that didn’t mean you were only limited to one patient in the infirmary; that would just be a waste of your talents. You cared for whatever patient you were assigned to, but if you were called on to Sukuna’s aid, you would have to put down whatever tool was in your hand and assist the lieutenant instead.

After being in this arrangement for some time, you decided you wouldn’t mind being a personal medic had you not been assigned to serve Sukuna of all people. To put it bluntly, assisting the lieutenant was like trying to reprimand a child.

Sukuna moved way too fucking much for your liking, and not because he was scared of needles or anything of the like, he just moved and twitched and squirmed because he wanted to get a reaction out of you, rile you up, in other words. Everything was just a game to him. And if you even tried to tell him, “If you keep moving, I will gouge your eyes out with this scalpel, accidentally or not,” he would merely shrug, replying, “And I would report you for insubordination, accidentally or not.”

Whoever assigned you as Lieutenant Ryomen’s personal medic would soon eat their shit, because once you got your hands on them, you swore you would go berserk.

As a child, you learned in school and outside school that people who served in the military were people who were deserving of all things respect and honor. And while most people you came across did live up to their name and role, Ryomen Sukuna was certainly not included in that group.

You were a firm believer in respect being earned, and no matter how many feats that man has accomplished to protect his country, his personality, demeanor, and condescending tone would always override all those achievements.

Oftentimes, you find yourself wondering what godforsaken deed you might’ve done in a past life that earned yourself the role of Sukuna’s personal medic. He had no respect whatsoever towards anyone. And, even when speaking with higher-ups, his true self neither faltered nor subsided. His skill was probably the only thing that kept him from losing his rank, you thought.

Most encounters with the lieutenant ended with you either wanting to rip your hair out or wanting to jump off a clif. He barked orders at you left and right, saying this and that. Sukuna never went a day without aiming at least one backhanded comment towards you.

It was irritating the way Sukuna found fun in keeping you from caring for other patients. He liked the fact that as long as he was in the infirmary, you wouldn’t be taking care of any other men besides him.

He was, needless to say, an insufferable man, and it was such a shame that he had taken a liking to you. When his mouth wasn’t so foul, he was no better than Gojo. Spewing suggestive, flirtatious comments every second he was near you. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought he was two different people. One second he could be criticizing you on how you performed your job, the next he could be speaking as if you two were in a relationship totally and highly inappropriate considering the actual circumstances.

If you pushed aside his vile, degrading comments, you could almost see yourself falling for his sultry personality. Because, after all, you couldn’t deny the attractiveness of Lieutenant Ryomen — especially when paired with his handsy habits.

Coming across Sukuna in tight spaces, halls, and corridors, always meant he would place a hand on the small of your back as he walked past you. Standing beside him during a briefing usually ended up with his hand casually slung around your shoulders, as if you two were friends or something of the like. You often found yourself with cases of phantom touch whenever Sukuna was away on missions for long periods of time; it irked you endlessly.

***

“Am I going to have to sedate you, sir, in order for you to stop wriggling around like a worm?”

“Dunno, would you like to try?”

Sukuna closed his eyes as you pressed a dampened towel to his wound, applying enough pressure to rid the gash of debris and rubble. This week, the lieutenant had just returned from another successful mission, and was in dire need of some patching up.

“Mm, can’t say it’s not a common fantasy of mine.”

His lips tugged into a sly grin, “How courteous.”

You took a step back and admired your handiwork; once satisfied with the completion of the disinfecting stage, you said, “I’m going to need you to sit up now, so I can start on the stitches.”

This part was usually easy for you, and you often looked forward to it since most patients were silent whilst you stitched them up, save for occasional grunts and groans here and there. But those were to be expected when a needle is piercing your skin.

The lieutenant wordlessly did as he was told, and you soon found yourself standing between his legs as you began to get to work.

For the most part, Sukuna was capable of maintaining his composure during this procedure, but, more often than not, he found himself with a preference for having his hands on your hips, occasionally giving squeezes whenever he felt it necessary. The conversation, in most cases, went like this,

“I highly doubt this is professional, sir,” you commented, but you didn’t remove his hands, because A) you would have to change your gloves, and B) if this was what would keep him from squirming, so be it.

Sukuna leaned down to whisper in your ear, his warm breath fanning your ear, “Maybe, but it doesn’t seem like I’m hearing any complaints.”

You hesitated, deciding carefully what your next words would be, and in the end, you only breathed out a sigh.

Having but a few minutes left of your break, and seeing as your mug was empty, you had no choice but to make your way to the mess hall. You didn’t come around there often; most of the time the place was packed with sweaty, grimy, boisterous men, who had no idea what personal space was. The coffee machine in the kitchen of the infirmary was broken, and even with more than enough men on base, no one knew how to fix it. So, grumbling, you had ventured out of your office.

“Hey, Doc—” An arm was suddenly wrapped around your shoulder as an unfamiliar voice filled your ears.

“Don’t talk to me,” you cut the kid off before he could say more.

Coffee. Coffee was the only reason you were here, not to chit chat. God, could this machine get any slower?

“Well damn, y’know I just love me a woman who plays hard to get.”

You turned to face the man with a deadpan look on your face, “Well damn, y’know I just love wasting precious time on my break talking to pricks like you.” Fuck, does no one know how to take a hint these days? This had to have been a recruit, because seriously, these cannot be the same people who are protecting this country.

A couple of snickers could be heard from people in line for coffee behind you, and your pursuer couldn’t help but finally leave you be, though, begrudgingly. However, those weren’t the only spectators. Near the back of the hall sat Lieutenant Ryomen and Toji Fushiguro, who were murmuring amongst themselves as they watched the scene unfold.

“I see the way you look at her,” the black-haired man began; an amused smile on his face as he moved around the food on his plate.

“You must be either blind or delusional, then.”

“No need to deny it, Lieutenant; it’s already obvious enough what you think of her. I mean, what kind of man goes as far as shooting himself on purpose just so he can go see his lady friend in the infirmary?”

The distant memory from last week — which was supposed to remain secret — caught Sukuna’s attention, and he glowered at his friend across the table. “I will roast your head on a spit and feed it to your family if you tell her I did that.”

“That’s harsh; you would traumatize poor Megumi.”

You had no idea what was going on. One second you were finally about to walk out of the mess hall with your cup of coffee, then someone’s hands were groping you whilst you were still in line, and the next . . . well, punches were being thrown. It all happened so fast; you weren’t even able to identify who was fighting who until people started breaking up the two men.

Yells filled the mess hall as it became clear who was involved.

“. . .Lieutenant Ryomen?” You almost dropped your oh-so dear cup of coffee in surprise.

“He’s crazy!” cried the man who groped you, as he was held back by a few of his colleagues. It was evident in his voice that he was more than shaken up by the event, and you almost felt bad had you forgotten what started this whole ordeal in the first place.

Sukuna wiped blood from his nose, clearly indifferent to his new injury, “At least I don’t go around harassing women. Did your mother ever teach you manners?”

When Sukuna suddenly turned to face you, it was impossible for you to read his expression. All eyes in the mess hall turned to you, awaiting what the lieutenant would next say.

“As for you, have you suddenly forgotten your job? Infirmary, now,” Sukuna said, in a commanding voice that had you scampering off as the man followed.

“Did I rip my stitches?” asked Sukuna, expectedly.

You heaved out a sigh as you cleaned up Sukuna’s bloody nose, “Mhm.”

“Ah, I thought so.”

“. . .You shouldn’t have lashed out like that. It wasn’t even that big of a deal; I would’ve handled it perfectly fine on my own, y’know.”

“I have no doubts you would, but he put his hands on you, sweetheart. Now that’s a big deal if I’ve ever seen one.” Sukuna’s eyes followed your every move as you patched him back up.

You couldn’t help but stop in the middle of your work to let out a laugh, “So you mean to tell me you’ve never been taught as a kid to share your toys?”

“Not when it comes down to my favorite toy, no.”

“I was joking, Ryomen.”

“Well I’m not.”

“. . .So what’s going to happen to that guy?”

“Dunno, not my decision. But if it was, it would definitely involve a few tears being shed,” Sukuna shrugged.

Sometimes conversations between you and the lieutenant went this way. The both of you speaking to each other as if you two were friends, or close colleagues. And, sometimes you did feel like your relationship was just that. But nonetheless, you couldn’t say you hated the more common tension you two shared.

There was just a spark that occurred whenever you two butted heads. Sukuna was a man who enjoyed riling you up solely to gain a reaction out of you, and you were someone who was angered easily by infuriatingly annoying men. In other words, you two made it work. The captain clearly knew what he was doing when he assigned you as Sukuna’s personal medic.

***

However may it be, your opinion of the lieutenant never changed much. No matter how smooth of a talker he was, he would — eventually — find more ways than you could think to make you want nothing more than his head on a spike. Today — also known as the following after Sukuna’s “incident”, was no different.

The pink-haired man was in the middle of doing nothing when you suddenly stormed into his office, with a crazed look on your face. At that moment, Sukuna decided he had never seen something sexier.

“What the hell did you tell them?” you asked, slamming a hand on his desk as you leaned down to his level.

Sukuna stood up from his chair and rose to the full extent of his height, a sly grin on his lips. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Lieutenant.”

He cocked his head to the side, “Don’t swear in my office.”

“How come all of my patients won’t look me in the eye anymore without breaking a sweat? They’re afraid to even breathe in my presence, sir.” You walked around Sukuna’s desk while you spoke, until you reached where he stood.

“Good.” His reply came curtly; simple enough to get another glare from you and obvious enough to confirm your suspicions that he was involved in this, some way or another.

“God! You’re insufferable.”

“You know you love it.”

“Fuck off. I hate your ass, you cocky bastard.”

Sukuna gripped your chin in his hand, bringing your face to his, “Mhmm, you make such a pretty liar.”

All complaints you had were soon swallowed up as Sukuna roughly smashed his lips against yours in a breathtaking kiss.

If you said you weren’t expecting this to happen sooner or later, you would be plain stupid. You two had been dancing around for weeks ever since you arrived at base; tensions could only reach so high before something could happen.

You let yourself melt in his hold as you shut your eyes, submitting under the overwhelming feeling of bliss.

Parting your lips in a gasp as Sukuna slipped his hands under your shirt, it didn’t take long before your bra came undone.

“Mm, fuck. D’you do that often, Lieutenant? You’re awfully quick at it,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sukuna bit your bottom lip, and you felt him smile against you.

Steadying yourself, you placed your hands on his shoulders as you two continued fervently kissing and nipping at each other’s lips. It was well into the evening by now, and you had no reason to worry about more patients, but still, you had a sense that,

“We should—ngh—stop.”

“I know,” came Sukuna’s reply, but neither of you moved nor pulled away.

“This isn’t right.”

“I know.”

Sukuna licked your bottom lip, and let his tongue explore your mouth once you parted your lips.

“We—hah—shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I know.”

“We have to stop.”

“Fuck no.”

You sucked in a breath as you felt Sukuna’s hand wandering down towards your ass, gripping the fat there hard enough to elicit a whimper out of you. His other hand slipped into your pants, pushing aside your panties and slipping two fingers inside.

“Shit, so big. . .” Your voice drawled as you tightened your grip on his shoulders.

Sukuna murmured sweet nothings in your ear as he quickened his pace, curling his fingers inside of you as he felt you tighten around him, a knot building up in your stomach.

Your shirt was soon pulled up and over your head, discarded somewhere in the office. Sukuna cupped your breasts as he brought his lips to your tits, sucking.

By now, it was safe to say you were a moaning mess. Sukuna gave equal attention to your clit as he did to each of your nipples. Sometimes grazing his teeth, sometimes giving a teasing nibble. The feeling of his mouth on your tits combined with his fingers inside of you had you biting down your moans as you came on Sukuna’s hand.

“Fuckk, what a pretty sight,” Sukuna gave an evil grin as he stared at the mess between your thighs. Making sure your eyes were on him, he brought his fingers to his mouth as he sucked at your leftover cum on his fingers, “And you taste so sweet, too.”

You whined, done with his antics, “Don’t be a tease.”

“Right, right,” Sukuna’s tone was full of mockery, “m’sorry, baby.”

He turned you around and bent you over his desk, placing kisses down your exposed neck and back. “You really gonna let me do this? I thought you hated my ass,” he snickered.

“Shut up, Ryomen,” you gritted your teeth, before shuddering at the feeling of his hard-on against your thigh. “You better fuck me like you mean it.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I would never plan on giving you less than just that,” were Sukuna’s exact words as his cock slid into you.

Maybe provocation wasn’t your best choice in a situation like this, but it was the smartest, fastest way for you to get what you wanted most.

“Ahh,” moans escaped you left and right, and Sukuna hadn’t even moved yet. Probably just the feeling alone of him inside of you could make you see stars, and you feared — with how big he was — that his dick would be the very last cock you would ever live to take.

“Where’s the snappy mouth from earlier, huh? Don’t tell me you can’t take what I’m about to give you.” Sukuna’s face held a sinister grin as he leaned over you, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he spoke, before he slid out just to violently slam back into you. The contact knocked the wind out of your lungs, and you could hardly suppress your scream.

You winced as the desk rocked under the both of your weights combined, and your mind quickly went to the idea of someone investigating the ruckus that was occurring so late into the evening.

“Fuck, baby. Do you know—hah—how long I’ve wanted to do this? Ever since I saw your pretty little ass prancing around base? God, I swore right then and there, when you threw your coffee at me, I had never seen anything hotter.”

“S’kunaa, ngh!” You arched your back, your tits rubbing against the rough wooden surface.

“I bet you knew how bad I wanted you. And fuck me since I wasn’t the only one,” Sukuna groaned into your neck as his hips snapped against yours. “Do you know how many fuckers have been salivating at just the sight of you? Shit, and you were the one gettin’ all hot headed at me for taking you away from your other patients all the time. Well, now you know why.”

“R—mmph—really?” Your voice was so meek, it made Sukuna almost want to go soft on you.

“I have never lied to you. Hah, I’m going to make this greedy little cunt remember my cock every time you even think of fucking with some other good-for-nothing recruit—”

Ring! Ring! Ring!

You were brought out of your dazed state at the sudden sound of Sukuna’s phone ringing against the desk, nevertheless, Sukuna never stopped his movements as he continued fucking you.

Ring! Ring!

Sukuna leaned down to mumble in your ear, “Don’t make a sound, unless you want everybody in this building to know how much of slut you are for some cock from your superior.”

You weren’t given even a moment’s notice before a gun was shoved in your mouth. Was this Sukuna’s idea of some sick joke? Or was he trying to use the weapon as a gag? Either way, you wrapped your lips around the cold steel, and whimpered as Sukuna moved his hand to rub your clit. He was not going to make this easy for you.

“Who is this?” Sukuna asked after picking up, his voice visibly irritated after being interrupted.

You knew the safety was on — the lieutenant wasn’t that insane — but still, there was a rush of adrenaline that coursed through you at the thrill of taking such a risk. You wouldn’t even think of agreeing to this another time unless it was Sukuna who was offering.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he continued slamming in and out of you at a merciless speed. You whined at the roughness, and your nails scratched and clawed at the desk for any source of leverage. All the while, no noise escaped you.

Your eyes brimmed with tears, your cheeks smudged with running mascara as you choked back a sob. Sukuna knew how to mix pain and pleasure just right, and your eyes continuously rolled back inside your head as he hit every spot inside of you.

“So the files can be taken care of tomorrow? Great. Good night.”

The phone call ended within three minutes, and Sukuna immediately removed the gun from your mouth, throwing it on his desk.

One particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars as you suddenly couldn’t hold back anymore, coming on his cock whilst babbling nonsense. “Nngh, Sukuna, fuck.” Muttering curses under his breath, Sukuna slammed into you one last time, his seed filling you up seconds later.

You laid limp on top of the desk, catching your breath as the mess down between your legs dried. Sukuna trailed a finger down your spine, enjoying the way you shuddered and shivered at his touch. A smile tugged at the corners of the lieutenant’s mouth. Yeah, he definitely wasn’t going to let you leave his office any time soon.

***

“Is this a bra in your office, Ryomen?” asked Toji, as he warily eyed the black lace lying on the carpet floor.

“Fuck.” Sukuna pinched the space between his brows; he must have forgotten to pick up after himself yesterday.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna smut #em writes ˎˊ˗

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vlion · 2 years

Note

please please write a jealous jake lockley fic where he’s either jealous of always being in the shadow while marc and steven get reader’s attention or maybe he’s jealous of someone from her work (sfw or nsfw if you want). TY IN ADVANCE!!

Damsel in Distress (Moon Knight Boys/Female Reader)

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this fic! I kinda tried to combine both of the things requested and I hope you like the direction I took! This was super fun to write as well as to dust off my smut writing skills! I could definitely see myself writing a part 2 to this so let me know if that's something y'all are interested in.

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39540033

Content Warnings/General Themes: ⚠ 18+ content: by reading this you affirm you are over the age of 18 years or over the age of maturity as stated in your regional or local guidelines. jealousy, unwanted advances, lots of swearing (mainly from Jake because he’s Jake), Marc/Steven/Jake all making appearances, established relationships, violence (pretty minor, only one instance), one mention of blood, allusions to prior sexual actvities, oh boy here comes the good stuff, semi-public sexual activities, museum sex, spit kink (like A LOT, I’m sorry), mouth spitting, handjob, oral (m recieving), face-fucking, hair-pulling, degradation (including use of demeaning terms), praise kink, facial, “Sir” kink, allusions to Dom/Sub relationship dynamic, mentions of choking, Jake having a filthy mouth (as he should).

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,071

“Absolutely not.”

Your boyfriend’s voice drew your attention away from the mirror you had been anxiously eyeing yourself in. You had been getting ready for what felt like hours, doing everything you could to pass the time rather than anxiously pacing around your shared apartment. You had been invited to a fancy gala at the museum you and Steven worked at together, and much to his and Marcs’ dismay–apparently–you had chosen one of your more revealing cocktail dresses for the occasion.

You turned to your boyfriend, with a mock frown on your face. “What, you don’t like it?”

He rolled his eyes after not so subtly taking your form in. “Baby…I already have to stay on the back burner tonight…and now you’re going to be wearing that all night? Are you trying to kill me?”

“Maybe not kill you, just make you suffer internally for a bit,” you said, with a cheeky wink. “And I am definitely wearing this dress, no ifs, ands, or buts about it, Marc.” You had already been hyped up by your friends and coworkers to wear this particular outfit, as well as by yourself, and there was no way you were going to change because of how one of your boyfriends was feeling about it.

It wasn’t like Marc was dressed particularly conservative either–the way his tailored suit and perfectly styled hair looked together had you weak at the knees. You wished that you could take him as your plus one, but you and Steven had specifically been invited, and people would surely be raising some eyebrows if he suddenly started speaking with an American accent. Not to mention the completely different manner in which Marc carried himself, and the fact that he worked for a mummified bird for a living. That probably wouldn’t fly well around the historians and archeologists and whoever the hell else attended these types of things.

“You’re a little brat, you know that?” Marc said in response to you. He also took the opportunity to kiss you on the cheek and pull you in by the hips, which made you practically melt in place.

“Yeah…but I’m your brat,” you practically whined out, trying to look as innocent as possible. You could tell Marc knew you were just fucking with him, but you had to admit it was fun to push his buttons every once in a while.

You could sense a shift within the man in front of you.

“Surely you mean our brat right, love?” he asked, nose crinkling as he enunciated each word with his distinct accent.

You knew Steven was going to make an appearance sooner rather than later, as he could be a bit of a control freak when the two of you had a place to be. You honestly preferred it at times though, especially when compared to Marc’s tendency to spontaneously propose things for the two of you to do. You asked Marc on one of your heat-of-the-moment dates why he wasn’t a fan of making plans ahead of time, and he simply responded by telling you he had a lot he wanted to make up for in a relatively short amount of time, so he wanted to make the most of it. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain in your heart at his confession, knowing about his past and the very reason for Steven’s existence. From that moment on, the love you felt for Marc–and Steven–increased exponentially, and you vowed to love each of them for who they are–even if that involves having to rush out the door for one of the escapades Marc took you on.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Steven glanced at his–or rather, Marc’s– watch, and reached for your hand. “I don’t mean to rush you, love, but we should really get going if we want to make it on time. Or, we could be fashionably late, but I don’t know if we are cool enough to pull that off.”

You couldn't help but giggle at that. If there’s one thing you could count on with Steven, it’s him making light of what would have certainly been a source of anxiety for you. You dreaded going to these work events, having to get all dolled up just to meet a bunch of stuck-up rich people who you would forget about the moment you step out of the event. Your boss, Donna, wanted the two of you there to ‘represent the museum’–which basically meant to stand there and look pretty while the rich folk had the night to gawk at the various artifacts and collections that you and Steven had so tirelessly fussed over. But hey, at least you were getting paid for showing up to this thing.

You had to nearly fight Donna to get her to allow Steven to venture out of the gift shop and work in other positions at the museum, which then resulted in the two of you rotating between working the shop as well as in the various exhibit halls. For some reason, Donna had taken a liking to you from the moment you first started working at the museum. Whether it was because you were generally pretty productive, or if she was simply happy to see more women working in this industry, you didn’t know, but you were certainly glad that you didn’t have her constantly breathing down your neck whenever something went wrong. You wished that you could say the same for Steven, but you liked to think that your presence did something to soften her up around him, especially when you were both on the same schedule.

You pulled yourself back to reality and glanced at the time yourself, realizing that Steven was indeed right in hurrying you along. You looked back in the mirror one more time, swiping your chosen lipstick across your lips once more, and upon interlocking Steven’s outstretched hand with your own, the two of you were off.

You were about two hours into the event when you started to get…fussy. That was the best way you could describe how you were feeling after hours of mingling and chowing on whatever appetizers were floating around in the various exhibit halls. Thankfully, you and Steven technically didn’t have to work, but it certainly felt like you each had become some type of designated spokesperson for the museum with the interactions you were having with the guests. You had attended some of these events in the past, and you were required to wear your nametag for security and identification purposes, so it seemed that any time someone had a question about literally anything you and Steven were the ones to come to. You didn’t mind the various questions about the artifacts or historical figures represented in the exhibits, but you were getting seriously tired of telling one person after another where the nearest restroom was.

You had taken a bit of a break from the event, finding an unoccupied table away from others where you could sit and eat some ‘real food’ that had been offered buffet-style in addition to the hors d'oeuvres going around. You could see Steven from where you were sitting, who upon glancing at the lack of vegan options, decided he would opt for a bite to eat later at the flat. He was currently telling an elderly couple about the history of gods know what. You couldn’t help but admire how passionate he was about the things he was interested in, and how he could articulate information in such a succinct manner. You found it to be incredibly attractive, especially when he was going down on–

“Hey there, gorgeous,” a voice said, drawing you out of your thoughts. You look up to see your coworker, J.B., with a cocky smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes and tried to visibly ignore him by angling yourself away from him, making it clear that you weren’t interested. Like, at all. J.B. had been nothing but a dick to both you and Steven the entire time you had collectively worked at the museum, and his crude remarks and tasteless flirtations were usually easy to brush off, especially after a long day at work. Now, however, you had zero tolerance for this kind of behavior.

But still, he somehow found a way to see through that.

“C’mon sweetheart. You wanna get out of here? Or are you too busy gawking over that freak over there?”

You immediately snapped your head back towards him. “Excuse me?! You, of all people, don’t get to call him that.” Upon seeing him roll his eyes, you continued on. “You wish you could ever mean as much to me as he does.” You knew you didn’t have to add the last part in order to get a rise out of him, but sometimes you just loved to see the world burn.

And make entitled pricks angry.

J.B. made a show of slapping the table in front of you out of anger at your statement, luckily not gaining the attention of anyone in your immediate area. You tried to glance around him to send Steven a look of ‘what-in-the-actual-hell-is-this-dude-doing-right-now,’ but he was too obscured by the stupidity that was unfolding in front of you.

Speaking of just that, J.B. reached his hand out and gestured for yours, clearly desperate. “I’m not gonna ask again.” He said, and you almost humored him and leaned in his direction to give him a piece of your mind, but after hearing distinct footsteps coming your way from behind him, you refrained.

“That’s enough.” The voice from behind J.B sounded familiar to you yet also…off. He certainly sounded like Steven, and was presenting himself as such, but you couldn’t help but think that one of your other boyfriends may be making an appearance. Well, rather, faking a British accent and attempting to act like Steven–if you could call that an appearance. You’ve dealt with enough of their shenanigans in the past to know when something was up; and to also know that Steven is pretty much the complete opposite of the confrontational type, further leading you to believe that he wasn’t who you were seeing right now.

J.B. turned around–dramatically of course–giving Steven(?) a death stare. “Here comes the freak to save the day. I knew she was that patheti-”

J.B. was promptly cut off by your boyfriend’s fist colliding with his face, as well as your shameless chuckle when J.B. looked between the two of you with wide eyes. “Donna’s gonna have a fucking field day with this, you’ll see,” he said, wiping some blood from his nostril.

It was you who spoke next. “Yeah, she would love to hear about how you tried to harass her star-worker. Oh, and that you made my boyfriend–who she already isn’t quite fond of–get into more trouble. Yeah, I’m sure that would go over well.”

J.B. was once again taken aback, clearly frustrated but attempting to keep his rage at bay out of the fear of being put in his place again. He opened his mouth to say something, but upon making eye contact with you and the other man once more decided just to smack the table again and walk away. What a fucking man-baby.

You turned your attention to the man in front of you, whose hand came up to cradle your cheek. “You know, as much as I hate the trope of the guy swooping in and saving the damsel in distress, I have to say, I’m grateful that my boyfriend knows how to throw a punch.”

The cocky smirk on your boyfriend's face completely gave him away, and you were soothed by the velvety voice that accompanied his relaxed demeanor. “Princesa, we both know that you would be the one rescuing me in that scenario, no?” A visibly exuberated Jake said, likely feeling the effects of adrenaline from the tussle he had gotten himself into. Well, actually, Steven into– technically. You’d seen each of the boys’ reactions after a fight before, and while Steven and Marc were able to keep the rush from the fight in their pants, Jake was…different. The first time you saw him get like this you were nearly scared of him, but more dumbfounded by how excited someone could get after literally fighting people only seconds ago.

You smiled at his words, nodding your head to agree with him. He swiped his thumb over your lips, before looking around to judge if the other party-goers were winding down for the night or not. He didn’t particularly care how people would react to the two of you slipping out early or not, but he knew you certainly would; which is why he was pleased to see that no one seemed in dire need of hearing the history of whatever ancient civilization was of interest to them, or to know when dessert would be served.

“Let’s get out of here, eh? Mi amor?” He asked, a twinkle in his eyes. He reached his arm out for you to take, and he was quick to give you a kiss on the back of your hand and then tuck your arm into his elbow when you reached your hand out. Sure, Jake could be a bit unhinged at times, but at least he was a gentleman. Usually.

You glanced around to ensure no one was watching as the two of you made your way towards the exit, and you let out a squeak of surprise as you were pulled into a small room that you and Steven generally took inventory in. There were shelves full of museum merchandise, as well as a few seasonal posters and displays.

“Jake, what the hell?” You asked, honestly just wanting to get back home to your comfy bed.

“Sorry, cariño, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, his hands going straight to your curves. “From the moment I saw you in this dress and saw what that fucking cabrón was trying to do…I just…I wanted you so bad .”

You chuckled at how possessive he was being. For such a big, bad mercenary, you would expect the man to have at least some restraint but alas, Jake was simply built different.

“Aww, Jakey, don’t worry. The feeling is mutual,” you said, in a rather teasing manner.

Jake rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Open your mouth,” he said, nearly out of the blue, looking at you through hooded eyes.

You obeyed, not trying to dig yourself an even deeper hole. He made a show of reaching his hand up and pressing it against your throat, tilting your head back so he could angle himself above you. You closed your eyes, knowing what was to come, and nearly moaned when he spit into your mouth.

He used his index finger to collect some of the spit that had hit your outer lip and cheek, and brought it back to your tongue. “Swallow” he commanded, a devious look in his eyes. You obeyed him again, clenching your thighs together as you swallowed nice and slowly, his hand still resting on your throat.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees and show me what a good fucking slut you are for me, hmm?” He said, and if you weren’t already so willing to comply, his words alone would have made your knees weak anyways.

You sunk down to your knees, making your dress ride up in the process. There was no way you were going to let it get ripped in this new position after seeing what it did to each of your boys, so you didn’t care to straighten it out or fix it. You looked up innocently at Jake, and you weren’t surprised that he was looking exactly where you had just been thinking of. You went to pull the material down out of the fear that he may make you cover up, but you stopped your actions when his hands gripped your shoulders.

“Keep it like that, princesa. Reminds me how filthy you can be for me. For us .” He exaggerated the last word with a knowing smirk, recalling back to the occasions when he would watch in on the things you would do with the other two men he shared a body with. He mentally reminded himself to thank you for the floor length mirror you brought home to the flat one day, telling Steven that it was just for you to ‘give yourself a once-over before venturing out’, but that certainly didn’t explain why it had only ever rested against the wall directly next to the bed.

“Take my cock out,” Jake said, and you felt your pussy clench at his words. You forgot how unfiltered he could be when he got like this–you loved it.

“Yes Sir,” you replied, smirking as you used the title. Ever since you jokingly used the word to refer to him after a joyride in his limo one day, you had become aware of the effect it had on him. You used it a couple other times to tease him, all of which lead to some intense lovemaking (if you could even call it that after some of the sinful things you’ve let him do to you).

You made quick work of removing his belt and unbuttoning his pants, slowly drawing the zipper down. Once the material was opened, and you had a clear view of his hard cock in his boxers, you took the liberty of lightly stroking your fingers up his easily distinguishable shaft.

Jake inhaled sharply at that, and grabbed your wrist to stop your actions. “I gave you an order, baby. Now’s not the time to tease.” He released pressure on your wrist, tucking your hair that had fallen forward behind your ear before leaning down to it. “Do I need to remind you that we are still in public? Huh?”

“No.”

“No, what?” He asked, a shit eating grin forming on his lips.

“No, Sir,” you replied, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Good girl,” he praised, loving the sound of the title on your lips. “Now make me cum like a good little whore.”

You clenched your thighs together at that, sure that you were soaking through your underwear at this point. The vulnerability and filthiness of it all should’ve turned you off, but the chokehold that Jake had on you–sometimes literally–was no doubt the cause of many feelings you had yet to fully dissect. But hey, ignorance is bliss.

Not wanting to stall any longer, for both his and your sake, you reached into his boxers and took his cock into your hands. You used your dominant hand to stroke up and down the shaft, using the pre-cum that had already begun collecting there as slick to aid your actions. Your other hand went to his full balls that were surely aching from the lack of contact.

Just as you found yourself getting into a good rhythm, you were shocked to feel Jake removing your non-dominant hand and angling it up towards his face. He leant down slightly, looking directly into your eyes, and then spit twice into your palm. “Use both hands up here, cariño,” he said, gesturing to his shaft. “I want to see how they look on my cock.”

You obeyed, gliding the hand with his spit in it along the entire length before bringing both hands up to the shaft and jerking him off. Your hands could barely fit around the girth of his dick, adding to the sinfulness of it all. That, combined with the wet sounds that the action made, seemed to be only amplified by the fact that you were in a relatively confined room at your place of work. You tried to focus on pleasuring Jake with your hands, but you couldn’t think straight with the swollen tip of his cock barely an inch from your face.

In other situations, you may have been a bit more hesitant about acting without permission, but you could tell that Jake was nearing his peak as you kept stroking. You knew how much he loved your mouth on him, so you closed the distance between your mouth and his cock, swirling your tongue around what you could fit in your mouth. You were immediately met with a moan from the man above you, who had to bite down on his knuckles to stifle any other noises. From the way he was breathing, you could tell he was definitely trying to hold back, both physically and vocally, so as not to reveal your location to the others outside the door. You were honestly beyond the point of caring, so you picked up the pace a bit, removing your tongue from the equation and settling to suck hard on his tip.

That seemed to really do something to Jake, provoking him to reach up and grab your hair in his fists.

“Fuck! Such a good girl for me,” he praised, allowing his hips to thrust in order to match your tempo. You could feel his balls hardening as they came in contact with your skin, and you knew he was close.

“Does my pretty princess wanna make me cum? Hmm?” He asked. “Right here, while your coworkers are in the other room?” He added, raising his eyebrow at your eagerness.

You nodded as a response, removing one of your hands to play with his balls once again and to allow him deeper into your mouth. The combination of your willingness to take him, as well as his eager thrusts caused him to nearly hit the back of your throat.

With a few more deep thrusts, Jake was removing his hands from your hair, and using them to angle your face towards him how he wanted. You removed your hands out of instinct, opting to place them on either side of his hips instead.

“Stick out your tongue,” he demanded, furiously stroking his length in front of you.

“I want your cum so bad, Jake” you said, before doing what he asked.

At that, he leaned down one last time and spit in your mouth again and you smiled with your mouth open, knowing he couldn’t resist.

“Ready for it, baby?” He asked, bringing his cock back to your open mouth.

You nodded frantically, closing your eyes when you could tell he was about to orgasm. You felt his cum hit your tongue and lips, the warm liquid tasting salty and distinctly like Jake. You nearly came with him at the sensation, as well as when he cupped your chin with one of his large hands to admire his work.

When he released you, you made a show of swallowing the liquid and licking off what didn’t make it inside with your tongue. You made eye contact with Jake while doing so, who you could tell was in a state of complete bliss. You leaned forward to lick up any of the cum left on his tip, then tucked him into his boxers and pants. He offered you a hand to help you stand up, letting you get used to being bipedal once more as he replaced his belt.

“Maybe I should play the role of damsel in distress more often, huh?” You asked, giving Jake a quick kiss as he adjusted his clothes and hair. You figured you should probably do the same, hiking your skirt back down and running a hand through your own hair.

“And maybe I should take you out of here and fuck you in the back of my limo to remind you who you belong to?” He responded, clearly still jazzed from everything that had gone on over the course of the night.

“Jakey, you know me so well!” You took his hand in yours, linking arms and allowing him to guide you out of the room and building with a hand on the small of your back.

As the two of you walked out together, you could’ve sworn you saw J.B. staring at you with wide eyes before looking between you and the security camera terminal.

Maybe you shouldn’t have insisted on them being installed in the storage room.

taglist: @verexi

#marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #steven grant x reader #moonknight x you #moon knight smut #jake lockley smut

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kaitsawamura · 3 years

Text

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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ihavenocluedude · 3 years

Text

What’s the name of the game

Ted Lasso x gender neutral!reader

(Let me try part 2)

Link to part 1

Link to Masterlist

Link to reading it on Ao3

Word Count - 2123

A/N - I’m sorry but this fkn gif took me completely off guard?? Hello hot stuff, jfc??? Life has been kicking my ass for a little while but I’m soon free from school for a little while (not really but Imma take a break anyway) and I’m going on an actual vacation with my family next week so me and my brain will finally get to relax. But uhm... this took a while... I had a hard time thinking up what to follow the last one up with. The answer was simply - more fluff :)

You’re sitting there and he can’t believe it for a moment.

Sure he’s not known you for long but you’re sitting there and he just wants to kiss you again. Hoping you’ll taste just like honey once again. He had had the courage to give you one of his AFC Richmond shirts earlier. Which he had thanked himself for over and over again. Whilst he himself had told you that he wanted to take it slow… he found himself fantasizing about a time maybe some months from this game or a year ahead. Fantasizing to still see you up there in the same shirt, still supporting. Still there for him. Your smile wide and loud encouraging shouts.

You’re sitting there and he really wants to believe that it’s going to be as special as he thinks it might be. But he also knows that he’s getting ahead of himself. Thinking too far ahead for a man who hasn’t even taken you out on a date yet. Roy has to slap his arm during the match to get him to stop looking towards where you’re sitting with Keeley and Rebecca.

— — —

He had of course gotten your number before he left your apartment that first night. You slightly teasing him that it would be ’purely for information, right?’. You told him to text you once he arrived home safe and sound. Exchanging good night texts before falling asleep, both with smiles on your faces. The next morning you were hoping that the established contact would result in more than just information for Sunday. So you sent a good morning text as well. Before you knew it you had sent texts to each other the whole day. Beginning with a simple conversation about what the plan was for the day, ending with how it all had gone.

His texts felt very alike to how he is in person. Corny jokes, stories that you wished you could see his facial expressions while he told them. It was as if you could hear his voice through every word he wrote. So there you were, during work, wishing you could see the corny smiles on his face whilst he texted you some small story about his hometown.

Of course, you wrote about Sunday as well, him telling you that he could swing by your place to walk there together, though you’d be there way earlier than you needed to be. He explained a bit about the actual game, what it would mean for the team and how they were doing. Almost as if he was just letting out anxious thoughts about the game. Responding with a couple of encouraging texts.

You did know some about football, you do live in England after all. But it wasn’t anything that really consumed your life. And certainly not a topic that was as active as it was in Ted’s.

Keeley had of course freaked out once she heard about the two of you. You had met up with her just someday after the Ted moment. You didn’t want to reveal absolutely everything, still wanting to keep the small intimate moment to just you and Ted. But she did get to hear the most important points. Like the fact that you would indeed join her in the audience of the game on Sunday. You had agreed to walk there with Ted even if you would get there very early. At least it might be easier than getting there and feeling completely lost and flustered trying to find where to go.

— — —

You were there, sitting next to Keeley, slightly nervous about sitting with and talking to Ted’s coworkers and friends. You hadn’t missed the fact that Ted glanced up at you quite frequently, which made you secretly wonder if it was just because of you. If anything you hoped it was. You tried to not ’catch’ him looking at you or get flustered once you did, finding that you caught eye contact with him. But still quietly hoping that he wouldn’t stop looking at you like that.

You hadn’t really planned anything for after the game. It was a pretty early game which made it a bit more open to actually do something afterwards. If he wanted to? Which you were severely hoping he did.

The shirt was nice, not exaggeratively big but big enough for you to feel that it was his. He told you that it would show that you were cheering for Richmond and maybe make you a bit warmer in the cold weather. His cheeks slightly tinted and his voice just slightly flustered as he ’explained’ it. You wouldn’t ever argue against it but that you were there cheering for Richmond was pretty clear. Especially since you were going to sit almost right next to the owner of the team. Rebecca had greeted you easily, a hug and telling you that she had heard all about you from Keeley. You saying the same to her.

So there the three of you sat, making some comments once in a while, laughing at each other’s comments, cheering for the team. Once Ted had grown somewhat used to seeing you up there, his focus returned to the game, to the coaches. Supervising and calculating.

Whilst he had seen you in your home, seen you in your true element, the place that you knew inside and out… this was his. You hadn’t seen him in his own home yet of course but you knew that if you could see his face whilst he looked out at that field… you would simply melt. The focus but also just the authority of him standing there, knowing what he’s doing and how to do it and being passionate about it. Even if it’s a challenge sometimes? It was very attractive.

When the game finished, Keeley led you to Rebecca’s office. Although, she probably wanted it to seem like ’hey! wait with us whilst you wait on Ted’ it more or less felt like ’time for Ted’s friends to ask you what your intentions are’. Ted is an amazingly sweet person, it wouldn’t surprise anyone for him to have protective friends. Friends that definitely would make sure you treated him right.

”So what are you doing after this?” Keeley asked, a grin as always attached to her face. Sitting in Rebecca’s office was nice, even with the professional energy of the whole building it also felt comfortable. The open door signifying that it was a free space for anyone to come in to join the three of you. The sofa that felt so comfortable you could probably sleep on it. You could easily see how Keeley and Rebecca could sit here for hours just talking if they had the time. Rebecca had quickly offered you tea and water when you entered the office but you felt a tad bit too nervous for that. You weren’t uncomfortable with the two of them or the situation with Ted, if anything you were just excited to see what would come out of all of this. But you were slightly anxious to see Ted whilst also overthinking what would happen once you see him later.

”I don’t know, we never really planned anything for after.” You shrugged with a slight grimace on your face at the uncertainty. It had simply slipped your mind when you had planned for the day with Ted via text. Which you really regretted, wishing that you had had something, just anything planned so you knew the plan even if it was that you were supposed to leave after the game. Even if you don't want to. No, you do want to see him after this, especially since he did look at you that often during the game. ”I think we’re doing something though?” Your statement sounded more like a question, uncertainty clear to the two women.

”Probably.” Keeley smiled reassuringly and gave you a small nod. Before one of the two women could say anything more there was a knock at the door frame.

”Howdy y’all.” Ted came into the office with a grin on his face, positive energy bursting from where he stood. And the anxiousness became more like excitement. Although you were still nervous, Ted just being there made you feel more comfortable. It was he who had invited you after all. A chorus of ’hey’ and ’hi’s were heard back to Ted as the three of you sat there smiling back at him.

”You ready to go?” Ted asked, looking directly at you, Keeley nudging you quickly and lightly before you stood up and nodded at him.

— — —

Ted hadn’t known what to do after the game either, the team had noticed his attention not completely being on the game at first and the small rumours had spread through the team even during the game. Whispers being passed even when on the field, hushed laughter in happiness and slight excitement for their coach.

He had talked with the team for a little while, checked in with Roy, Nate, Coach Beard and the press and then… then he supposed it was time to find you. Ted just assumed that Keeley had stolen you along to Rebecca’s office and he had fortunately been right. Still sitting there in his AFC Richmond shirt.

”You wanna get out of that before we head out?” Ted asked you carefully when you headed out from Rebecca’s office, quietly hoping you’d say no but not wanting you to feel that you needed to wear it out.

”No… No, I don’t think so… I’m quite proud of my team and its coach.”

”Even if we didn’t win?”

”Even if we didn’t win.”

Ted’s cheeks flushed slightly at the ’we’ in your response.

”Coffee?”

”Sounds perfect.” Walking out of the building and walking together to the coffee shop you didn’t talk much at first, just enjoying the sight of the other person next to you. Small smiles traded every time you caught each other’s eyes. You didn’t need to talk to each other but when you started again you found it hard to stop.

The coffee shop was cute, small, not intended to be stayed in but rather bought in and then left, so that’s what you did. Walking around in a nearby park, Ted telling you yet another story from his life. You could tell that he was special from the first moment you met him, spoke with him but seeing how he was special was just something extra. This man smiled at everyone he saw, greeted everyone he even just barely knew.

”Honey?” With the way Ted’s voice could sound sometimes, he was clearly the one deserving of the nickname honey. You nodded shyly in response, his voice saying the pet name he himself had given you made you want to close your eyes for a second. But instead, you looked at him. You were learning a lot about Ted Lasso in just a few days but one of the things you knew from the first night was that his eyes could look just breathtaking sometimes.

He was going to say something before he stopped himself, acting as if he wasn’t going to say something, sending you a quick smile as if to let you know that it wasn’t anything big. So you decided to take the matter into your own hands as he was about to go back to walking further into the park, or rather you took his hand in yours, tugging him towards you a bit before starting to walk again. Now side-by-side with his hand in yours.

The afternoon ended with Ted walking you home, his hand in yours until you stood there together. Not really wanting the evening to end but still having other things to get done and enough restraint to know that you couldn’t go any further than this for now. He wanted to go slow and so it would. Even if you had already kissed. You kissed him on the cheek and said good night.

— — —

He texted you later that night.

Ted - ”Wednesday, 7 pm? I know a really good Indian place with a good story attached to it?”

”Sounds perfect.”

Ted - ”Perfect. I really liked spending time with you today.

- ”Me too, Good night Ted”

Ted - ”Sleep tight honey.”

You knew everything had to go slowly. But damn if that man’s actions didn’t threaten you to fall in love quickly. With a slightly quicker heartbeat and a smile attached to your face for the rest of the night, you go up earlier in the conversation to look at the texts he sent this morning before he picked you up.

Ted - ”How you feeling honey?

- ”Excited, you?”

Ted - ”Jittery, nervous, all the usual feelings.”

A/N - I’ve been so anxious over this part two for ages now so I really hope you guys like this. I am going to write like a request post thing now. But like just so you all know - I am currently open to requests, I really would like to keep with the whole ‘honey’ thing as I don’t really like writing Y/N. I am usually really slow with my writing though... as you may have noticed. But Imma try my best

#ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #Ted lasso x gender neutral reader #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #My writing

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achillieus · 4 years

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile. “Thank you.”

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.” You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.” For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.” You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #letyoudown

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sorry-apsalar · 3 years

Text

Get With the Time Already

Another Ao3 prompt: "so uh i like trans fry and maybe i was thinking fry could be dysphoric and bender comforts him in his own way ig??"

Disclaimer: while I have personal experience with gender dysphoria it's not as intense as I know many other people's are. So this might not be the most accurate depiction of a trans man but I did my best. I have also never worn a binder (though I have done some research on them) so I might not have properly portrayed that either in my mentionings of it.

Content Warning: this fic includes blatant discussion of boobs, gender dysphoria surrounding them, and transphobia (Fry incorrectly assumes Bender is going to be transphobic)

Fry had only just began putting on a clean pair of clothing when the door burst open behind him. He snapped around to see Bender pause in the doorway as his eyes found Fry. Knowing immediately what he was looking at, Fry flinched and immediately snatched the jacket off the top and pulled it up to hug to his chest, covering himself.

“Hey Bender. Uh… what’s up?” he said, trying to keep the tension out of his voice as he forced a smile. Maybe Bender hadn’t seen? It was kind of dark in here so perhaps he hadn’t had time to make anything out?

“Have you always had boobs or is that a new feature?” Nope, Bender had for sure seen then. Dang it!

As always, people knowing about his chest made Fry feel worse about it. Perhaps that was due to the fact that it brought the issue to mind when normally he tried to forget about it whenever possible. Regardless he was now officially uncomfortably aware of his chest and Bender now knew his secret.

He was bound to find out about it one way or another eventually. Bender was his roommate, coworker, and best friend – up until this anyway, who knows if that would still be the case afterward – after all so they spent quite a bit of time together. So it had been only a matter of time before Bender saw him naked or caught him without his binder on since he couldn’t wear it all the time. It still sucked that it had to happen though. Perhaps Fry should’ve told him on his own so it happened on his terms instead of just randomly like this. Too late now though.

“Uh… Fry. You okay?”

Oh shit, Fry had just been kind of standing here frozen, hadn’t he? Oops. “Uh… I’m fine.” Faking nonchalance was hard when he didn’t even know how Bender felt about the whole thing yet. “Yeah. I’ve uh… always had them. … Or not always but ever since I hit like puberty and stuff.”

Not wanting to look at Bender anymore, Fry turned away and let the jacket drop to the floor. He turned to the closest to pull a clean set of clothes – he was almost out, meaning he’d have to do laundry again soon, ugh – and resumed dressing himself.

“Oh, I get it,” Bender said in his usual tone of voice as if unaware of how uncomfortable Fry was – though knowing Bender it was possible he just didn’t care. “You’re one of those people that don’t like having boobs.”

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it.” Fry wasn’t normally one to feel self-conscious about things but gosh pulling on a binder when someone else was watching certainly made him feel a special kind of uncomfortable. He had no other choice though and better to get it over with sooner rather than later because Bender didn’t seem inclined to leave any time soon. “Uh… how mad are you about it?” Best to just ask that outright to figure out where they now stood with each other.

Bender scoffed. “Why would I be mad about it?”

Fry snapped around to look to look at Bender again. “Because… because… guys aren’t supposed to have them and that makes people mad a lot of the time.”

“What moron told you that? Lots of men have boobs.”

“Well uh… I guess sort of on bigger guys but… that’s different.” Even despite Fry’s less than healthy diet and lazy life style he was still somehow too skinny to have those kinds of boobs.

Bender gave him a look like he was stupid. “I forget sometimes that you come from the unenlightened ages. In modern day lots of human men have boobs, some get them removed, others don’t, no one cares either way. I’m a robot and even I know that. Seriously Fry, get with the times already, you’re just making yourself look dumb.”

As he finished pulling his jacket on, Fry took a breath to reply to that but… what was he supposed to say to that? “It’s uh… really not a big deal anymore? Being trans and stuff.”

“Yeah. Literally the only people who care are some of the assholes in the head museum and even most of them have gotten over it by now.”

That didn’t make Fry feel less dysphoric, especially since they were still talking about it and thus he was still thinking about it, but it did make him feel better. Even if, that being the case was obvious in hindsight; things had been trending towards being more accepting back when he came from. Far, far slower than he’d have liked but a thousand years was a long time so of course a lot of progress had been made in that realm just like in every other area of society and science.

“Anyway,” Bender continued, “you going to continue to be upset about it or are you going come out and watch TV with me? ‘Cause the new episode of All My Circuits is about to start and I’m going be mad if I miss it because I have to continue to explain why you being trans literally does not matter to me or anyone else.”

Fry almost could’ve run over and hugged him but refrained for now. He was going to have to ask more about this later – surely getting top surgery and other such stuff would be far less of a hassle these days, right? – for now though… “TV sounds good.” He wanted to watch the episode too and could use a distraction while he took some time to digest this new information and the fact that Bender now knew and that that was okay because not only was he cool with it, he was indifferent to it and didn’t see Fry any different because of it.

#my writing #futurama #frender #philip j. fry #bender bending rodriguez

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theoswriting · 4 years

Text

lavender, honey and coconut (e.p. x fem!r)

summary: Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs. y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning. That had been her first mistake.

pairing: emily prentiss x fem!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: okay, this is my first time writing for cm and emily prentiss, so I hope it isn’t too ooc! this is definitely a different vibe to the show lmao, i mostly wrote this to amuse myself, and then decided it might be worth sharing. I hope you’lll enjoy it xo (tell me if u do, i’m nervous)

warnings: some alcohol is consumed, light swearing

ao3

Penelope Garcia can sniff out secrets like a cute security dog can sniff out drugs.

It's a well-known fact that if you want to keep something hidden, one, you don't tell Garcia because she's incapable of keeping anything secret and two, don't breathe near her because she will be able to figure out that you're hiding something, and she will know which buttons to push to get you to spill everything.

Penelope likes to think that in another life, she would've made a great interrogator. In this life though, she uses her powers to get what she wants out of her friends.

This was one of the first things y/n found out when she joined the BAU. Derek spoke about the tech goddess' powers with reverence while the rest of them spoke of it with fear. Even Hotch seemed a little disconcerted by the whole thing.

y/n had been amused but had brushed off the warning.

That had been her first mistake.

***

Paperwork days were the worst.

y/n should probably love them more because if she's stuck behind her desk, it means that no one is out there getting brutally murdered. Still, it's a lot less exciting. It doesn't help that the bullpen is oddly quiet, everyone focused on their files. Spencer is going through his about a mile a minute, stopping from time to time to rewrite something or to look up some kind of information. Derek is slower and y/n can almost see the boredom oozing out of him. Yet, he doesn't look up when she looks over at him and keeps diligently going through his notes.

Finally, her eyes land on Emily. Her head is propped up on her left hand as she writes with the right. Occasionally, she will bite her nails as she focuses hard on part of her notes. y/n thinks she looks extra cute when she frowns, trying to understand her own writing. It makes y/n smile before refocusing on her own work.

y/n is almost done with one of her reports when she notices some missing information. She could easily look it up herself, but she's bored and this is the perfect excuse to get away from her desk for a bit. So she stands up, gathers her papers and walks to her favourite tech genius' lair.

y/n opens the door and sees Penelope's back turned to her. Before she can say anything, Garcia's voice rings out.

"Well if it isn't my favourite ray of sunshine, what can I do for you, y/n?"

y/n smiles at the blonde's greeting, as she sits down next to her, "Are you busy?"

"Not at all!"

"Great, I'm missing some information on this file, but most importantly, I'm in dire need of entertainment."

Garcia happily grabs the file from y/n and starts tapping away at her computer, putting up the information she needs on her screen in no time. She prints it all out and hands it to y/n with a flourish.

"Here's the info you need," She starts, but her eyes quickly turn regretful, "Sadly, I have no recent office gossip to entertain you with."

y/n pouts at that, "Damn, not even from Slutty David?"

Penelope shakes her head and opens her mouth to speak when she suddenly frowns at y/n. She pulls back slightly and y/n wonders if she'd forgotten to put on deodorant that morning. Penelope says nothing, just watches her.

"What?" y/n finally asks, unnerved by the staring.

"What are you not telling me?" Garcia asks simply and it's y/n's turn to frown. She can't think of anything that she might be hiding from her friend.

"Nothing?"

y/n is pretty sure that's the wrong answer and that Penelope is going to keep asking her questions until she confesses to something she didn't even know she was hiding. To her surprise though, Garcia only stares at her for a few more seconds before dropping it. As quick as it disappeared, her bright smile is back on her face and she goes back to telling a story.

It turns out that yes, she did have something to tell y/n about Slutty David.

y/n leaves Penelope about twenty minutes later with a refreshed brain, ready to get back to work. When she gets back to her desk, Emily looks up to give her a smile. y/n smiles back and winks at her as she sits down. Emily's smile broadens before she turns her focus back to the file in front of her.

y/n does the same, her smile staying even while going through an autopsy report. It's only hours later when y/n is almost done with paperwork that she freezes. She looks up at Emily and realizes.

That's what she's been hiding.

She frowns. There's no way Garcia knows that though, she and Emily have made sure, they've been careful.

Yeah, it was probably a fluke.

***

Mornings where she gets to wake up next to Emily are y/n's favourites. Even the early ones, when they get called in for a case, having Emily next to her makes it all easier.

That's what happens that morning, both of their phones going off at 5:45 am. Emily is the one to reach for her phone while y/n latches onto her and drops a kiss on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"It's JJ. We have to go in."

y/n nods and painstakingly opens her eyes. She drops another kiss on Emily's shoulder and turns away from her to get up, but before she can go too far, Emily reaches for her and kisses her. y/n scrunches up her nose even though she's smiling into the kiss.

"Morning breath. Gross," She manages to mutter against Emily's lips.

"Don't care."

y/n had wondered when they started dating if it would get to a point where it'd be too much to be together and then work together as well. Now, six months into their relationship, y/n knows she had worried over nothing. They have a system and boundaries. They keep the PDA to a minimum at work, which isn't a problem considering they had decided to keep their relationship a secret from the team. It's not that Prentiss and y/l/n don't trust their coworkers, it's more than they don't want to screw up the group's dynamics.

And it's also ridiculously funny to see how long it's taking a whole group of profilers to figure out that two members of their team are dating.

After getting dressed, y/n starts packing a new bag, taking clothes from the one drawer Emily had emptied out and gifted to her on their 2 months anniversary. Emily had a similar one at y/n's place. Considering their jobs and the amount of time they spent at each other's place, they figured it was smart to always have enough clothes at each other's place for instances like these.

Not even 10 minutes later, they're out of the door. They kiss one last time before Emily gets into her car and y/n gets into hers. As usual, y/n takes the long way to work, her place being famously further away than Emily's. So when she finally gets to the conference room, everyone is already there and waiting for Hotch.

y/n sits in between Derek and Spencer, "Good morning, my people!"

"It certainly is not," Hotch deadpans as he enters the room. y/n closes her mouth and nods to herself. She should've seen that one coming.

The others chuckle quietly, but the laughter quickly dies. Hotch was right. This is far from a good morning.

The murders are gruesome, the victims are all women which bear a striking resemblance to Emily. y/n doesn't bring attention to it, it wouldn't bring anything to the case except worry over a detail that isn't of much importance, at least not right now. Instead, she watches her girlfriend look at the pictures, and by the way her jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly, she's come to the same realization.

"Alright everyone, wheels up in 20." Hotch dismisses them, and almost everyone rushes out of the room to get their bags. Garcia stays behind though, and so does Emily. y/n gathers her stuff slowly then, waiting for Garcia to leave the room so she can have a moment alone with her girlfriend.

Garcia doesn't leave, though.

She's staring at y/n ominously. She's missing a furry cat to be petting and she'd look like a supervillain from a cheesy action movie. y/n tries smiling at her, but the blonde doesn't respond in the slightest.

y/n leaves the room. She'll check up on Emily before take-off. She is big enough to admit that she was a little freaked out by Garcia.

She thinks nothing of it until hours later, when she's setting up their evidence board in a small town in buttfuck, Texas. JJ is standing next to her, writing the name of the second victim.

"Garcia has been asking about you."

It's such a weird thing to say that y/n is a bit taken aback. She pauses and slowly turns to look at JJ, "Uhm… Okay?"

JJ puts the cap on the pen and turns to y/n, her face probably too serious for whatever this is about.

"Remember when we told you about Garcia's weird ability to tell when someone is hiding something juicy?" y/n nods, still confused as to where this is going, "Well, she's smelt whatever it is that you're hiding."

y/n briefly wonders if no one is bothered by the constant comparison of Garcia to a literal hound dog, but apparently not. She lets out a small chuckle and nods at JJ, clearly not believing the warning tone the blonde had used, "Yeah, okay, I'll sleep with one eye open."

"y/n, I'm serious," JJ lowers her voice and looks around before confiding, "Penelope is the reason the whole team knows I had a one night stand with Slutty David."

"You had sex with Slutty David?"

JJ shudders, "Everybody makes mistakes."

***

y/n tells Emily about JJ's warning as they cuddle into bed that same night, exhausted from a day of leads getting them nowhere. To her surprise, Emily agrees with JJ.

"Garcia has a way of getting you to admit to things you thought you'd never say out loud."

The way she talks about it has y/n looking up from her very comfortable spot on Emily's shoulder to her girlfriend's face. She's staring off in the distance as if haunted by whatever it is that Garcia had dug up on her.

"What the hell did she find out about you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it."

***

"So, are you seeing anyone?"

It's Saturday night and they're out at a club for a Girl's night. After the case they'd had, they deserved a night to unwind. They've chosen a bar where the music is loud, but not loud enough to drown out Penelope's question. JJ and Emily are gone, lost somewhere in the crowd fighting for the bartender's attention, in search of more drinks. As y/n's brain finally processes what Garcia has just asked, she fights the urge to smile and look for Emily.

y/n has drunk enough to be on the dumb side of gay.

"Why do you ask?"

"Answering a question with another question, very telling," Garcia smirks.

Penelope seems oddly composed for someone who is two cocktails and three shots deep into the party. Usually, a drunk Garcia means sloppy kisses on the cheek and getting her away from attractive strangers before she can say anything overtly sexual or inappropriate. So something doesn't add up. y/n squints her eyes at the blonde in front of her, like that will somehow help her see things clearer.

It doesn't. Everything looks fuzzy and she probably should stop drinking.

"I'm not."

The lie tastes gross in y/n's mouth and if there's one thing that could make her feel better, it would be kissing Emily. Before she can stop it, a smitten smile makes its way onto her face. Garcia slams a hand on the table, making y/n jump. She focuses her eyes on Penelope who's pointing an accusing finger at her.

"There! Who did you just think about?"

y/n sputters, racking her brain for a more convincing lie but she can't stop smiling so she gives in. Damn her inability to lie when she's drunk.

"Okay, fine" y/n amends, "I am seeing someone, but please keep it quiet."

Penelope obviously does not keep quiet. Instead, she squeals loud enough that she startles a few people passing by their table. Of course, that's also the moment JJ and Emily pick to come back.

So when Garcia basically yells, "I knew it!" for the whole bar to hear, there's no way y/n is getting out of this one.

"Knew what?" Emily asks with a smile as she puts down a drink in front of y/n. She immediately grabs it, thinking that maybe if she blacks out, this conversation will also be erased from the history of the universe.

"y/n is seeing someone!" Penelope happily informs the two recently arrived. JJ whips her head, excitement filling her eyes, about a million questions fighting to be asked first. Emily, for her part, chokes on her drink.

"Why haven't you told us anything?" JJ says, her blue eyes even more glassy than usual, "Who is it?"

y/n shrugs, going for a nonchalant vibe. She goes with something vague.

"You don't know her."

Penelope's smile widens, "Oh, so it's a her."

Shit. Not vague enough.

What follows are a series of questions that y/n refuses to answer and thankfully, with Emily there to mediate, they manage to change the subject. Seriously, y/n could kiss her right then and there. Instead, she takes a sip of her drink and glances towards Emily. They decide to leave less than an hour later. JJ is about one sip away from taking her top off while y/n is just about ready to throw caution to the wind and start making out with Emily. To hell with consequences.

Penelope is still suspiciously acting sane.

"Oh, Pen, be careful, someone dropped their drinks right behind your chair."

JJ's heads up makes y/n glare at Garcia who looks a little too guilty.

***

When they get back to Emily's place, y/n barely waits until the front door is closed before kissing Emily. Emily welcomes it, blindly throwing away the keys to wrap both hands around her girlfriend's neck. The kissing is sweet, the taste of their last drinks still sticking to their mouths. It's a little messy due to the fact they're both smiling like two goddamn idiots in love. When they stop, Emily grabs y/n by the hand and drags her to the kitchen so they can both drink water to make their hangovers hopefully less painful in the morning.

They're almost done when Emily speaks.

"We have a problem."

y/n stops moving. She should've known this moment would come.

"Listen, if this is about the burnt toaster, I've already ordered a new one."

"Garcia- What?" Emily turns around to look at the spot where her toaster usually rests, "What happened?"

Realizing her mistake, y/n puts her empty glass of water down and wraps her arms around Emily's waist, "Nothing you need to worry about," Emily looks back at her girlfriend who looks too innocent, "What were you going to say?"

"Garcia knows you're with someone."

y/n nods slowly, wondering where Emily is going with this. She doesn't see any problems. Sure, Penelope knows that she might be sort of taken by a woman, but that's it. Even in her drunken state, she'd managed to keep any other incriminating details to herself.

"Garcia has a way of finding things out, it's only a matter of time until she puts two and two together."

Emily looks genuinely fearful and y/n wonders again, what kind of dirt Penelope had gotten Emily to disclose. She thinks back to JJ's warning as well. y/n turns it over in her head, but in the end, she scoffs and leans up to kiss Emily.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll make up a fake break up or something and we'll be fine."

Thinking she could fool Penelope Garcia so easily was y/n's second mistake.

***

Derek is getting himself coffee when y/n swiftly approaches him from the side.

"What secret did Garcia get out of Emily?"

"Which time?"

"There's more than one?"

"Oh yeah."

***

The whole thing with Garcia does make y/n and Emily reconsider telling the team, or at the very least, Hotch and HR.

They hadn't at first because of team dynamics, but mostly because they themselves were figuring out how they worked as a couple. It turns out they worked great, and hiding each other from their coworkers and best friends was getting a bit much for the both of them.

They wanted to show up at Rossi's dinner parties together without worrying about what their friends would think. y/n wanted to hold Emily's hand after a rough case on the jet without it being questioned, just as much as Emily wanted to drive with y/n to work every morning and walk into the building together.

So the next morning, Emily and y/n get to work before anyone else and walk into Hotch's office.

He doesn't have much of a reaction, not that they were expecting anything more.

What does surprise them is that, after giving them the whole speech about professionalism and whatnot, he smiles at them and says, "I'm happy for you both."

Aaron Hotchner smiles at them and y/n feels like her relationship has just been blessed by the angels from above.

***

"Hey, Spence? Do you know what Garcia dug up on Emily?"

"Emily sprained her wrist a few years back and told us that it had happened at the range. It turns out that she'd sprained it falling from her skateboard."

"Her skate- What?"

***

When y/n had told Emily they'd be fine, she wasn't being cocky, but she just knew that there was no way Garcia would suspect something with how careful they had been.

They never showed up together at work. At first, they always timed their arrivals carefully, until it became second nature. They were never overly affectionate with each other. If they needed to be comforted during a particularly hard case, they'd wait to be behind the closed doors of the hotel room they shared on most trips. As much as y/n wanted to, she never showed up to work wearing one of her girlfriend's sweaters, no matter how warm and comfortable they were.

Bottom line was, there was no reason for Garcia to suspect anything when their teammates who were literal profilers hadn't caught onto anything.

No one except Hotch knew. And only because they'd told him, so.

y/n should've known though, from being a profiler herself, that being too confident meant she was bound to slip up and make a mistake sooner rather than later.

It all happens very quickly.

JJ asks y/n if she can grab a couple of files she had left with Garcia and bring them back to her because she was waiting for someone to call and she couldn't go too far. y/n, of course, accepts, always happy to get away from her desk and the paperwork begging for her attention. She quickly knocks on Garcia's door before entering and the tech doesn't turn around as she greets her.

"Bonjour, Emily, what brings you to Casa Garcia today?"

y/n chuckles at the blonde's eccentricities, "Sorry, but you got it wrong, it's me."

Penelope rolls her chair around to face her and she looks truly distraught to have gotten it wrong, "But I always get it right. I'm the all-knowing Penelope Garcia."

y/n gently pats her shoulder as she reaches past her to some files she sees on the desk, "Are these JJ's? She asked me to get them for her."

Garcia nods, but she still looks defeated at having failed to guess her visitor's identity, so y/n tells her she'll come by later with some coffee for a chat. Penelope nods and turns her attention back to her computer and so she leaves.

It's funny, y/n thinks, that of all the people Penelope could have confused her with, it was Emily. Maybe some of Emily's fears had planted themselves into her brain unbeknownst to her because y/n suddenly feels very uneasy. Why did Pen think it was Emily walking in? Had she unconsciously started walking like her girlfriend? No, no, that was ridiculous. Emily had a very distinctive gate that was very different from y/n's.

Still, something is off. y/n trusts her gut, it has never failed her, and her gut is telling her something is off.

She doesn't know what though. She had woken up with Emily that morning and they'd actually had time to enjoy a nice breakfast together and had plenty of time to get ready together. In fact, they had even gotten to enjoy a very pleasant shower together. y/n smiles at that particularly good memory until she realizes.

"Shit," she mutters, but not quietly enough. She's standing in the middle of the bullpen, her coworkers' eyes on her. Before she can tell herself that it's fine, that she was just paranoid and that there was no way Penelope had noticed, she hears a familiar but hurried clicking of heels approach the bullpen. y/n turns around to see Penelope standing on the other side of the glass window and one look at her is all y/n needs.

She knows.

Before Garcia can make her way inside the bullpen and bring mayhem with her, y/n hastily makes her way to her. She drops JJ's files on her desk haphazardly under Derek, Emily and Spencer's bewildered eyes. When she gets to Penelope, she gently grabs her by the arm and urgently leads her away.

"You smell like lavender!" Penelope exclaims with no preamble, "You usually don't smell like lavender, you smell of honey and coconut, but never lavender and that's why I got confused!"

y/n confidently nods in greeting at an agent passing by Garcia's office as y/n shoves her inside. He looks unsettled but only smiles in return, preferring to ignore whatever is going on. Smart man.

"That's why I thought you were Emily! Because Emily is the one who smells of lavender!" Penelope is pacing while y/n stands with her back to the door.

"Okay, Pen, I need you to breathe," She says when the techie is still going on about lavender, honey and coconut.

"Breathe? How can I breathe when you and Emily are dating."

y/n thinks that's a bit dramatic, but Garcia has finally stopped pacing and talking. y/n slowly steps towards the blonde and puts both of her hands on her shoulders. She debates for a few seconds, wonders if she'd get away with a lie but at this point, y/n's pretty sure the cat is out of the bag.

"Yeah, Emily and I are together."

y/n should've been prepared for it, but when Garcia lets out a high pitched squeal, it still gets her by surprise. Her pained grimace is quickly chased away by laughter when Penelope hugs her with all the strength and excitement caffeine was providing her.

"This is so great, I'm so happy for you two!" She lets you go long enough to see the smile that's made its way onto her face. It's the same smitten smile she always gets whenever she thinks about Emily and Garcia honest to god pinches her cheeks, "Aww, look at that smile!"

y/n laughs and tries to get her cheeks away from anymore pinching. That's when the door opens enough for Emily to sneak her head in, "Hey you two, is everything okay?"

She looks at Penelope first, but her eyes end on y/n. Before she can say anything though, Penelope smirks, "Why yes, lover, everything is just fine."

At that, Emily gets in and closes the door behind her. She looks at y/n for confirmation.

y/n just nods, "Yeah, she knows."

"You bet your sweet ass I know!"

And with no further warning, Penelope tackles Emily in a hug much as she'd done with y/n minutes prior. When she lets her go, Emily steps closer to y/n, and with a hand on her lower back, she says, "I told you she'd find out."

y/n ignores the I told you so her girlfriend apparently couldn't wait to give her, but yeah, she's not wrong.

It'll teach her to ever doubt the abilities of the all-knowing Penelope Garcia.

***

Months and months later, y/n meets up with Penelope for brunch on a Sunday morning. Before she can even greet her, the blonde fixes her with a stare that is both strange but oh so very familiar.

"What are you planning?"

This time, y/n grins and tells Garcia not to worry, that she'll know in due time. After all, she can only hide the little velvet box in her coat pocket and its content for so long.

***

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss imagine #reader x emily prentiss #cm imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #emily prentiss #criminal minds #mywritings

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sunlightdances · 4 years

Text

Safe Place to Land (Modern!Bucky x Reader)

Author: Katie @sunlightdances Pairing: Modern!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Rating: PG-13 for swearing. No trigger warnings except some alcohol use and drunkenness, and if awkwardness makes you feel weird, which-- SAME. Slow burn. Two idiots. Words: 8K+ aka HOW DID THIS GET SO LONG Summary: Modern!AU. You and Bucky are both standing up for Steve and Peggy’s wedding. Checking in at the hotel for the weekend, you’re horrified to realize there’s been a problem. A big problem. Prompt Filled: “Only one bed” Author’s Note: This is for @fanfictionaries’ Classic Trope Challenge! Congrats on 300 followers, and thanks for hosting! This was so fun to write. Special thanks to @writeyourmindaway for the divider at the beginning and the flower divider throughout the post! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes or Marvel. I also don’t own the song “Dance with Me” by Kelsea Ballerini, which is where the title comes from. The plot is mine! Please don’t repost my work on any other sites (AO3, Wattpad, etc.) without my permission. If you like what you read, please reblog to help share my work!

You’re late.

It’s truly a scene from a movie - you dashing through the airport, your rolling suitcase clicking behind you as it hits every line in the tile. People are staring, and you’re embarrassed, but you don’t have time to be.

Peggy will kill you if you miss this flight.

You’ll kill you if you miss this flight. Not for the first time, you curse Steve Rogers and his romantic streak for having a destination wedding. Especially because it’s going to be small. An exclusive wedding that could have just as easily been done in New York… you stop yourself.

You’re happy to be going to London. You’ve never been before, and you’re even happier to be going to celebrate the wedding of two of your closest friends.

It’s been over a decade since the first time you met Steve Rogers, alone and out of place in New York City, and at first you didn’t bother him - he was clearly going through something, and through your nosy neighbor, you knew he was recently back from a tour in Afghanistan. You were unable to stay away for long though, especially when you could hear the nightmares through the apartment walls, and could hear the grief he was struggling to control.

A casserole outside his door and a late night coffee break later, the two of you were fast friends. He trusted you with his story, and the look on his face when you introduced him to your coworker Peggy sealed your friendship for good.

Finally arriving at the gate, you nearly knock over a very tired, very irritated looking Bucky Barnes, and roll your eyes to the heavens, because of course you’re on the same flight. Why wouldn’t you be? You suspect foul play by your conniving best friend, but you don’t have time to complain about it.

Bucky’s already glaring at you. “You’re late--”

“I know. How did you even know I was going to be on this flight?”

“Steve mentioned it. Said to make sure you didn’t get left behind.”

You roll your eyes, collapsing into a chair near the gate as the boarding process begins, out of breath from your sprint through the airport. “He worries too much.”

“You are late, though.”

You glare right back at him, but can’t help but give him what you hope is a subtle once over - right from the top of his baseball-cap covered head to his Nike-covered feet. It’s really not fair that he still manages to look like a runway model at four in the morning.

Finally you’re called for boarding, and you push past Bucky to get on the plane, where you have plans to promptly fall asleep and hopefully be out for the next several hours.

“Me again,” you hear his deep voice before you open your eyes, and you’re treated to the truly amazing sight of Bucky Barnes’ abs when his shirt rides up as he puts his bag in the overhead bin.

“Terrific,” you mutter, and he snorts.

“Go to sleep.” The heat practically radiates off him as he sits down next to you, him in the aisle seat and you in the dreaded middle seat.

You really are tired - there was a reason you were running late. You have a habit of working too late and not getting enough sleep, another reason you were looking forward to this wedding. Ten full days in England. No work, just rest. And a wedding. But besides that--! No obligations. You can practically feel the stress melting off you.

Almost as soon as the plane takes off and you start to doze, the man on the other side of you starts talking. At first you think he’s talking to Bucky across you, but it becomes clear he wants to get to know you better when he starts asking about your job, and finally, if you’re single.

You crack open an eye in disbelief, and open your mouth to respond before Bucky leans over and says quietly, but firmly, “No, she’s not. Sorry, dude.”

Bucky’s forearm is pressing into yours, and you scowl at him before the other guy replies.

“Oh, sorry. Should have guessed.”

“Don’t worry, it surprises a lot of people,” you tell him. Including me. You look back at Bucky with a what the hell look on your face, and he shrugs.

Shifting, he lifts the armrest between you and leans in, whispering. “Unless you wanted him to hit on you for the rest of this flight?”

You groan internally, because there’s nothing you hate more than when Bucky has a point.

It’s not like you hate Bucky. He just-- he knows how to push your buttons. Being Steve’s best friend in the entire world, it was a packaged deal. Bucky came home a year after Steve. He was injured, and angry, and wanted nothing to do with the same type of optimism you tried to supply Steve with.

You were okay with that. Not everyone is wired the same, and you had no business butting into Bucky’s life just because you were able to help Steve adjust to life after the Army.

He warmed up eventually, after he and Steve both started going to VA meetings and were slowly working through things, though you knew there was a chance that the Bucky Barnes you were going to get to know would be nothing like the Bucky that Steve told you stories about.

Still, it has always seemed like there’s something else there. Something under the surface that makes Bucky wary of you.

You’re civil and have come to accept the facts: you and Bucky will never be friends.

That’s why you’re so suspicious of his behavior on this flight. You figured he’d be rather amused by you getting hit on at 20,000 feet.

Right before you fall asleep, you put that thought safely into the box labeled Reasons You Will Never Understand Bucky and leave it at that.

You wake up to turbulence, and Bucky’s elbow jamming into your ribs.

“Sorry,” he mutters, and when he steadies you, you realize you were leaning into him while asleep, and feel your face turn hot.

You don’t say anything - too worried you’re going to put your foot in your mouth. “What time is it?” You ask instead, and he blinks at you.

“No idea. I was asleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence that settles between you is a little awkward, but you try your best to get over it. It’s dark on the plane. Your left leg is asleep and your neck is so tense you wonder how you managed to sleep at all. Probably because you had the world’s most attractive body pillow, you think.

You pull your tablet out of the seat-back in front of you and turn the brightness way down. Opening a book you’ve been reading, you check the time. Seeing you still have a few hours before you land, you try to get comfortable before you start reading.

You can feel Bucky’s eyes on you off and on for the next few minutes and you try to ignore the feeling it gives you - the hair on the back of your neck standing on end, and when you catch him before he can look away, you feel the jolt through your entire body.

That’s new.

Finally, the announcement comes that you’re landing in fifteen minutes, and everyone around you starts to gather their things and get restless. You feel the excitement building in you like a live thing, and roll your eyes when you see Bucky smirking at you.

“Leave me alone; I’ve never been to England before.”

His smile falters, just the tiniest bit. “It’s nice. You’ll like it.”

It’s a weird comment, but you don’t say anything else. You have a vague memory of Steve telling you Bucky was airlifted to Germany and then to London before coming home after his accident, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing. Contrary to what he thinks, you actually don’t want to argue with him all the time, but especially not on this trip.

Heathrow is a madhouse. It’s even busier than when you left New York, and you’re a little overwhelmed, plus jet lagged. A great combo.

You and Bucky get your bags from baggage claim and then he turns to you, looking a little worse for wear. “I’m assuming we’re at the same hotel.”

“Hopefully not the same hotel Steve and Peg are in.”

Bucky looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but still remains stoic.

“Oh come on,” you say as the two of you head to try to find a cab. “You know if we’re in the same hotel they’ll be calling all hours of the day to get us to do last minute stuff for them. I agreed to be a bridesmaid, not the wedding planner.”

Like the sun finally breaking through, Bucky actually smiles at that, and not for the first time in your sort-of-friendship, you’re struck by it, by how it changes his entire face and makes him look like a completely different person.

“Steve’s been driving me a little crazy, I have to admit.”

After verifying you are both staying in the same hotel where the majority of the wedding guests are, you fall silent as you take in the scenery zooming past in the cab.

Soon you’re approaching the most beautiful hotel you’ve ever seen, and you stare, open-mouthed, because this cannot be the place you booked. You were given the name of a hotel that Peggy said was nice and reasonably priced that most of the other guests were using, and you expected it to be-- well, not like the place she and Steve were staying.

Still: this is-- too much. Opulent doesn’t even cover it.

“Wow,” Bucky says next to you, uncharacteristically awed by the sight.

In the lobby, you’re even more convinced this is all a scam. Which is why when the concierge tells you there’s a problem, you’re almost not surprised.

“I’m so sorry - we have names for both of you on the reservation list, but it seems like they’ve put you both in the same room.”

A pin could be heard dropping for how quiet you and Bucky get.

He’s the first to speak. “I’m sorry?”

“There must have been a mistake… we’re full the next two weeks with several wedding parties and whoever booked it must have made a mistake.” She’s perfectly apologetic, in that British way, but you’re having trouble getting past the idea that you’re going to have to live with Bucky Barnes for 10 days.

“Can I just get another room?” You blurt.

“I’m sorry - we’re booked. There aren’t any other rooms.”

Bucky turns to you. “Look, it’s fine. Where else are you going to go?”

You feel something like panic welling up inside you. You and Bucky, sharing a room for ten days. How are you going to survive what’s sure to be the most awkward thing you’ve ever had to do in your life?

Better yet: how are you going to live with the teasing from Steven Grant Rogers when he finds out you have to be roommates with his best friend?

You sigh.

“The same room it is.”

This can’t be real, you think. It’s too cliche.

“Um,” you say out loud, elegantly, “There’s only one bed.”

“Appears that way.”

“Well? What are we going to do?”

Bucky looks at you, blank. “We’re grown. I feel like this isn’t that big of a deal.”

You feel semi-hysterical laughter bubbling inside you, because this is very much a big deal. Especially when you’re just sort of admitting to yourself that your tiny crush on Bucky hasn’t waned over the years. You’ve always found him attractive and had no problem acknowledging that, but this? This is just too rom-com, even for you.

“It’s ten days. You don’t have a problem sharing a room with me for ten days?”

He shrugs. “What else am I going to do? Can’t bunk up with Steve. We’ll be busy with wedding stuff for the next two days anyway, and then afterwards… I don’t know. I figured you’d be sightseeing?”

You stare at him. “Okay, but… what are you going to be doing?”

He looks down. “Hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. You assume I’m here as long as you are,” he points out.

He’s right - you have no idea how long Bucky booked this trip for. Without wanting to pry, you’re again reminded that he has a small history here, and probably one that he doesn’t want to re-live.

You’re interrupted by Bucky’s phone ringing, and you busy yourself unpacking while he answers it.

“Hey, Steve.” He says, his voice entirely different when he talks to his best friend. “Yeah, just got to the hotel.” A few beats. “I was probably just going to crash for the night…”

You get a text from Peggy almost at the same time, asking if you want to meet her and Steve for dinner, and meet Bucky’s eyes. You must look as tired as he feels, because he makes another excuse.

“If Katie’s not going to be there, I don’t want to be third wheel with you two lovebirds.” Another beat. “Yeah, let’s do breakfast. I’ll call you in the morning.”

You tap out a response to Peggy about jet lag and already being in bed (and it’s not like you don’t want to see your best friend, you’re just-- there’s too many things happening right now for you to even think about going out for a late dinner), and toss your phone towards the bed.

Yet another reminder of the fact that you’re going to be sharing with Bucky Barnes as soon as you’re both exhausted enough to sleep.

When he hangs up, you look at him curiously. “You didn’t mention anything about our living arrangements.”

He sighs. “Look, Steve’s stressed out enough. He doesn’t need to worry about this mixup too. Besides, it’s fine. It’s just sleeping.”

You hate yourself for the heat you feel at the thought of sharing a bed with him, even though it’s a fleeting feeling that you force away. “Yeah. Just sleeping.”

Bucky says he wants a shower and you offer to order room service. It’s almost 10pm, but you both know you won’t be able to sleep on an empty stomach.

When Bucky comes out of the bathroom, you feel like a teenager. Even he looks a little flushed, but you think it’s from embarrassment. “I-- forgot a change of clothes. Sorry.” He looks so chagrined, you can’t help but snicker.

“Buck, you’re offending my delicate sensibilities.”

His eyes go a little wide and you realize you’ve never called him by that familial version of his nickname before, but it just -- you’ve known the guy almost as long as you’ve known Steve. It just slipped out.

He recovers quickly, winking at you. “Honey, we all know there’s nothing delicate about you.”

You both freeze, both taken aback by the sultry lilt to his voice as he teases you, and again, you’re saved by an interruption - this time a knock on the door saying room service has arrived.

Bucky heads back to the bathroom to change, and you gulp in a few deep breaths before answering the door to get the food.

A whole night of this. You have no idea how you’re going to survive.

Your alarm goes off way too early. In reality, it’s eight in the morning, but you still feel like you’ve been hit over the head with something heavy after a day of traveling.

Moreover, you feel like something heavy is actually on you, and you peek open a bleary eye to see Bucky over your shoulder, his arm slung across your waist like it was always meant to be there.

“Shit,” you whisper, hoping you don’t wake him, but also wanting to get out of this situation as soon as possible. You scramble for your phone, the groan leaving him as he wakes up a noise you try to convince yourself you don’t want to hear again.

“What time is it,” he asks, his voice rough with sleep. You shiver.

“Eight,” you reply, finally reaching your phone and sliding a thumb across the screen to turn the alarm off.

He realizes his position and rolls away from you casually, so you mentally decide to pretend you weren’t cuddled up to him for most of the night.

You already have a text from Peggy asking if you want to join her, Steve, and Bucky for breakfast, so you have no choice but to get up and shower, trying to forget the warm feeling of being held by Bucky Barnes.

In an hour, you’re both waiting on a busy street for the almost-newlyweds, and you see them before they see you, Steve’s broad form and Peggy’s impeccable posture unmistakable. You smile unconsciously - they look so happy. You feel a pang though, because you don’t think you’ve ever been with someone who made you feel so carefree.

“Short stuff!” Steve calls, and you roll your eyes, muttering under your breath about how you’re not that short while Bucky snickers next to you, but before you can berate Steve, he’s gathering you into a hug, nearly lifting you off the ground.

Over Steve’s shoulders you see Bucky give Peggy a kiss on the cheek and a shy smile as they hug, exchanging quiet words.

You and Peggy might have known each other first, but she and Bucky bonded right away, making you wonder (not for the first time) why it seemed to be only you that Bucky had trouble getting to know. You brush off the thought - this week was about your friends and their wedding, and you were going to stop worrying about anything that wasn’t making sure this wedding was perfect.

“Missed you,” Steve whispered, “Did you get in okay? Bucky said you were late.”

You roll your eyes again. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He smiles. “Go say hi to Peg. She’s excited you’re here.” He gives your shoulders a squeeze before passing you off to Peggy, who hugs you so tight you can barely breathe.

“You look so--” you sigh, unable to find the words, “Happy. You look so happy, it’s like you’re already married.”

She grins. “I’ve been dreaming about this day for years. I’m excited.”

The four of you sit down to eat and you have the best breakfast you’ve ever eaten. Around a mouthful, you tell the table, “I never want to eat anything but these potatoes for the rest of my life.”

The rest of the meal is spent talking about the wedding and any last minute items that need to be done before the rehearsal dinner later that night. It sounds like everything is going as planned, which doesn’t surprise you when it comes to Peggy Carter.

“And so far everyone has arrived, we think. Have you run into anyone at the hotel?” Steve asks, and you and Bucky both freeze, before he speaks.

“Not… no. Haven’t seen anyone else yet.”

Steve looks between the two of you, eyes narrowed. “What? What happened?” He puts down his fork. “You can’t be fighting already, it’s only been--”

“They gave us one room.” You blurt. “There was a mixup and we have to share a room.”

Bucky steps on your foot hard, because you’ve forgotten his warning about not telling Steve and keeping the groom from stressing out the day before his wedding.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, waving a hand. “It’s just sleeping.”

You want to scream. Was it just sleeping when we cuddled all night? There wasn’t even alcohol involved!

“Right.” You say brightly, “It’s fine. No big deal.”

Steve is frowning. “I can call--”

“No!” You and Bucky both exclaim.

“Please don’t worry about this. It’s a non-issue,” You say, looking to Peggy for reassurance.

“They’re adults, Steve.”

“Adults who always seem to want to rip each other’s heads off,” he mutters, reaching for his coffee. Over the rim, he meets your eyes, and you shake your head minutely. Don’t you dare.

Breakfast is a little subdued after that, but soon it’s time for Steve and Peggy to go to the venue to make any last minute changes, leaving you and Bucky to your own devices for a few hours before you have to get ready for the rehearsal dinner.

Before parting ways, your phone buzzes.

Steve Rogers: You sure you’re going to survive this?

You: I will murder you.

Across the sidewalk, Steve snorts.

Steve Rogers: I’m just saying. Your crush is kind of obvious, you know?

You: Lucky for you, Bucky literally pays no attention to me. It’ll be fine.

Steve Rogers: That’s what you think.

You meet Steve’s eyes, trying to figure out what he means, but he just shrugs and puts his phone back in his pocket.

The four of you say your goodbyes, and then you and Bucky are left standing on the street awkwardly.

“I was going to go to a museum--”

“I might check to see if Sam is here yet--”

You both speak at the same time.

Bucky clears his throat. “Right. Well, I’ll go check on Sam and you go to your museum or whatever. You have a room key?”

You nod. “Yep. All set.”

“I guess… have fun. Don’t get lost.”

You scowl. “Great, thank you for your concern.”

You’re halfway down the street when you hear him call, “Don’t be late!”

You flip him off over your shoulder and pretend you don’t hear him laughing as you keep heading down the street in the complete opposite direction.

You get back to the hotel in the early afternoon so you can shower and start getting ready for the rehearsal dinner. Outside your shared room, you hear voices, so you pause. You can tell one is Bucky, and soon you recognize the other voice is Sam.

“Really, dude. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Bucky’s voice is gruff. “Do I want to be in London? Not particularly. Can I separate my issues from celebrating this wedding? Yes.”

A sigh, but you can’t tell who it comes from.

��It’s okay to have mixed feelings about London.” Sam says. “The last time--”

“I know what happened the last time I was here.” Bucky interrupts, voice firm and icy. “Sorry. I just-- I don’t want to talk about it.”

A pause. “Okay, then let’s talk about your other issue.” Sam says, and even through the door, you can tell he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on! You’re sharing a room with--”

Not wanting to overhear something else you shouldn’t, you hurriedly put your key in the slot and push the door open.

The two men are silent, staring at you, and you can feel the guilty look all over your face, so you try your best to school your expression into nonchalance.

“Long time no see,” Sam says, standing up to give you a hug.

“Hi, Sam.”

You make some small talk and try not to notice how quiet Bucky is being. He can’t really hate this situation that much… right? Or is it just this place in general? You’re too afraid to ask.

After another hour or so, Sam leaves the two of you to get ready himself, and you race to the bathroom to shower and start doing your makeup.

You’re very conscious of the fact that Bucky is getting changed in the room just beside you, so you take your time getting ready, making sure you’ve done every last thing you can think of before you emerge.

You’re not prepared for the sight of him, more dressed up than you’ve ever seen him. A dark blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbow, showcasing part of a tattoo that snakes down from his left bicep. His newly-shorn hair is artfully styled, the watch on his right wrist glinting in the late day sun streaming into the room.

God, how are you going to get through tomorrow? Seeing him as one of the groomsmen? You’re going to die.

“You look nice,” you manage, not wanting to stare at him any longer.

He looks like he doesn’t know what to say. You’re not sure if it’s the compliment he’s having trouble with, or what. “Thanks,” he says eventually. “You do too.”

The rehearsal dinner is like a fairytale, just like you knew it would be. The food is great, the company is even better, and even Bucky looks like he’s having a good time. There’s lots of toasting the bride and groom to be, and that involves a lot of drinks. A lot.

By the time you’re walking back to the hotel with Bucky, you’re a little unsteady on your feet, but he’s not doing much better, your hips bumping every few feet as you walk.

“You’re a lightweight,” he laughs, and you attempt to glare at him, but you think it comes off more like you’re leering at him. He reaches for your elbow gently and tugs you into the elevator with him, and it’s a challenge to stop thinking all the inappropriate thoughts that start clouding your mind.

Safely in your room, you sit on the edge of the bed and watch as Bucky starts to get ready for bed. You need to get your makeup off and into your pajamas, but you can’t bring yourself to move.

“You’re staring.”

You grin, “Just enjoying the show.” Instantly horrified, you clap a hand over your mouth. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear it.”

Bucky’s a little pink around the ears, but he looks smug. “So you think I’m hot?”

You groan. “Shut up. You know you’re hot.”

He looks surprised for a half second, and you fall backwards onto the bed.

“Stop it, stop asking me stuff. I can’t be trusted.” Apparently you can’t take your own advice, because you start thinking out loud, “It’s too bad you hate me. We’d be like, the hottest couple of all time.”

It’s silent, and when you finally look up, he’s staring at you, a frown on his face. “Is that what you think?”

“I know we’d be the hottest couple of all time--”

“No,” he interrupts, exasperated. “You think I hate you?”

“I think--” you suddenly clamp your mouth shut. “I think I need to go to the bathroom.” Bolting past him, you make it there in time, and barely register him coming in a few seconds later, holding your hair back.

God. How embarrassing. Love this journey for you, your brain helpfully supplies.

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Bucky helping you out of your dress, and a cool hand on your forehead. Then it all goes black.

Your alarm goes off early again the next day. Wedding day. You’re due at the venue with the rest of the bridal party at nine to start hair and makeup.

Your mouth feels like it’s made of cotton, and you curse everyone involved in the dinner for doing so many toasts.

“God,” you groan, and when you open your eyes, you see Bucky on the chair in the living area, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. “What--”

“Here,” he says, tossing you your phone, alarm still going off.

There’s a text from Steve asking if you’re alive, and another from Peggy’s bridesmaid group chat with a million love-themed emojis.

“Thanks,” you grumble, bits and pieces of the night before coming back to you. Startled, you look up, “Bucky, I am so sorry--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waves a dismissive hand at you.

“I didn’t mean to drink so much. I’m such an annoying drunk. I--”

“Really,” he interrupts your apology, “It’s okay. You weren’t that bad.”

He’s quiet, which isn’t that different, but he looks… more intense than usual. Contemplative. It makes you nervous. Especially because the night before is still coming to you in pieces.

“Have you been up long?” You ask.

His eyes shutter. “A bit. Had trouble sleeping.”

An awkward silence settles. “What time do you have to--”

“You probably need to get going--”

You both speak at the same time, and strangely, your throat feels tight as he won’t meet your eyes. How badly had you screwed things up the night before?

“Right. I do have to get going. Just going to--” you gesture to the bathroom, and he nods. You make your escape into the shower and spend a little longer than necessary in there, trying like hell to figure out what you could have said to him.

It’s hours later before you see Bucky again. You and the rest of the bridal party are helping Peggy with finishing touches, and the photographer is taking action shots, the entire room a mix of blush pink and gauzy white.

Peggy is a vision - her hair curled and pinned in an old-fashioned style befitting a princess, and her lips painted her signature cherry red.

“Steve’s going to die,” you say, grinning at her, and she winks.

“Almost ready, girls?” She asks everyone else, and there’s a cheer before everyone begins to head out into the hall, gathering with the groomsmen to begin the walk down the aisle.

You’re blindsided by the sight of Bucky in his tux. You take a moment to be thankful you’re walking with Sam, not with Bucky, because surely he’d be able to hear the way your heart is pounding just looking at him.

He looks similarly awed, and your ego takes a moment to soak it up before you can feel embarrassed at the attention.

“You’re… you look great.” He says quietly.

“Thank you. You too.”

The smile he gives you is so soft, you can barely stand it.

“Okay Barnes, hands off my date.” Sam interrupts, linking your arm through his.

Bucky rolls his eyes. Before he can say anything else, the procession is starting, and you’re swept up in the romance of this moment finally happening.

Steve cries.

You do a little, too.

You catch Bucky looking at you with those intense eyes during the ceremony twice, and you’re suddenly more nervous than you’ve ever been, because you still have eight days left of your trip. Possibly eight more days rooming with Bucky if he doesn’t leave before you.

If the tension doesn’t kill you, sleeping in the same bed with him again will, for sure.

The reception space is even more beautiful than the ceremony, and even as you sit there, chin in your palm watching Steve and Peggy dance, you think you’ve never felt more romantic in your entire life.

You dance with Sam, and then Steve finds you, his eyes already a little glazed over.

“Come on, you can’t sit there all night.”

You huff as he finds your hand and tugs you out of your seat. “I haven’t been sitting here all night.”

“You’re not going to deny your best friend a dance. That’s that.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a few moments as the two of you sway slowly, and when you look up at Steve, he’s only got eyes for Peggy, who’s dancing with Sam on the other side of the room.

“I’m happy for you, Rogers.”

He grins down at you, “When are you going to start trying to make yourself happy?”

You groan. “Steve, don’t.”

“I’m serious! Look… I know Bucky is… he seems serious sometimes, and it can be hard for him to open up, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one notices.”

The thought of it sends butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, but there’s just no way that could be true. No matter how much of a romantic Steve Rogers is and how much he would love for his best friends to get together, it’s just not going to happen.

“Incoming,” Steve whispers, and you turn over your shoulder to see Bucky there, looking a little sheepish.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Steve steps away from you, and your eyes widen at him, panicking. “No problem,” he says to Bucky, “I’ve got a bride to get back to.”

Bucky takes a step closer. “Dance?”

As if on cue, the DJ plays something soft and slow, and you’re left powerless to resist Bucky and the way he’s looking at you - a little guarded, but still open and vulnerable. You feel like you have no choice but to take his hand, a shock working its way up your arm at the contact.

May my hands be the hands you hold onto When you let go of everything else May my arms be the arms that you fall into When the night gets too heavy to hold by yourself

You feel so self conscious as you dance with Bucky, his touch gentler than you ever allowed yourself to imagine it might be. He holds you close, your clasped hands resting over his heart, and you force yourself to enjoy this quiet moment with him.

If you're looking for a safe place to land I will guide you home And if the levy of your life breaks all your plans You'll never be alone

You think about the first time you met him - he was so different then. The same stoic Bucky Barnes you know now, but less quick to crack a joke or a smile. He stuck close to Steve and Sam, but it was clear to you that there was so much more to him than his outward appearance.

There’s the loyalty he shows to his friends. He’s smart - probably the smartest person you know, and so driven. He’s fiercely protective and is observant to a fault, the result of Army training he’ll probably never get rid of.

And -- you hate to admit it, but there was a time when you thought Steve was right. You’d catch Bucky staring out of the corner of your eye and think maybe, maybe there’s something there. And then like a switch flipped, he was quicker to argue with you, every little thing turning into a reason for the two of you to fight.

Now though, the gentle way he’s holding you and the scent of his cologne flooding your senses… you can almost trick yourself into thinking your feelings are reciprocated. That Bucky was just as nervous around you as you are around him.

The song comes to an end, and so does the moment.

If you dance with me Feel my heartbeat through your body to your feet If you dance with me Hold me in the dark now, until both your eyes can see And if it's you and me against the world If I'm your man, you're my girl We'll win you'll see, if you dance with me

Steve and Peggy are leaving in the morning for Paris for a few days, and then to Spain. You feel a pang of jealousy watching them leave the reception, hands and eyes locked together as if nothing could tear them apart.

For a moment, you so desperately want that kind of affection with someone else. You take a deep breath and force yourself to get it together.

“Share a cab back?” A deep voice behind you asks, and you’re surprised to see Bucky. He made himself scarce after your dance and you didn’t see him again for the rest of the night.

You nod, not trusting your own voice.

The cab ride to your hotel is nearly silent. Every small noise is amplified, like you shifting in your seat, and Bucky loosening his bow tie.

“Have you decided how long you’re going to stay?” You ask, finally, the one question that’s been plaguing you.

He looks at you, eyes impossibly blue in the streetlight glow. “A few days, I think. I have some… I have some stuff I want to see before I go home.” He shakes himself out of whatever memory he’s in. “You? The full ten days?”

You shrug. “If I can keep this room, yeah. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation.”

Bucky nods, turning to look back out the window again. At the hotel, he helps you out of the car and pays for the cab despite your protests, and when you get inside the elevator, you’re struck again by how handsome he looks, flushed from alcohol and a little more tousled than usual; his bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his top two buttons undone.

He catches you looking once again, but you can’t look away. You know you’re not imagining this time how his eyes darken a shade, and you watch with rapt fascination as he licks his lips, leaning down ever so slightly -- the elevator dings and the doors open.

The spell is broken.

“Bucky?”

He shakes himself out of his thoughts almost physically, and then he’s walking away from you, heading towards the room without a backward glance.

The next morning, you and Bucky are tangled together so much that there’s no way you can get up without him waking up first. Your first thought is embarrassment, but then you just… give in. You let yourself enjoy it, only feeling guilty for a few minutes.

You’re so warm and you feel so protected… you once again curse Steve Rogers for making you think about your persistent crush on Bucky, because now you can’t get it out of your head.

“Morning.” Bucky’s voice is rough, and you jump, because he’s still got his arms around you. And he’s awake.

“Morning,” you say cautiously.

“Sorry,” he slowly pulls away from you, the tips of his fingers lingering on your arms. “I’ve been told I’m like an octopus in my sleep.”

Something about Bucky seems different first thing in the morning. His walls aren’t up.

“It’s okay. I’m not complaining about free cuddles.”

He smiles, you can feel it where his stubble scratches your temple. There’s something like giddy excitement brewing in you.

“Can I-- I have a favor to ask.” He says. “I have to go somewhere today… I-- if you don’t have plans, would you come with me?”

You crane your neck to meet his eyes. He looks nervous.

“Okay,” you say simply, because you think if he keeps looking at you like that, you’d follow him anywhere.

He tells you to dress casually, so you opt for a simple jeans and t-shirt outfit with a cardigan thrown overtop. You pack whatever you think you’ll need for a day in your backpack and follow Bucky out when he’s ready. He seems to know where he’s going, and you walk with him in comfortable silence.

He starts fidgeting the closer you get to a massive hospital, and when you get close enough to read the sign, you realize this must have been where he was taken for part of his recovery.

“Bucky--” You breathe, because this is too much. He’s trusting you with too much, and you’re not sure you deserve it.

“I--” He swallows hard, “The doctor who saved my arm still works here. I try to write as often as I can, but I thought a face-to-face visit was probably overdue.” He looks down at you, “I just-- I haven’t been here in years. I don’t think I can do it alone.” His words are measured and careful, and you realize how hard it must be for him to be here in the first place, let alone trusting you with something like this.

You feel tears pricking your eyes and you fight to keep them back. “Okay, Bucky. Yeah. Let’s do this.”

He smiles shakily at you, and on a whim, you reach for his hand. When he freezes, you realize you’ve gripped his left hand, the one with the scars encompassing his wrist and three of his fingers, the hand connected to the same arm that was nearly blown off in Afghanistan, the one that nearly cost him his life.

He doesn’t let go. If anything, he squeezes your hand tighter, and you feel another tendril of affection curl around your heart.

Inside, he introduces himself to the woman at the reception desk, and after a few questions, you’re directed towards an elevator and given directions to the floor the doctor’s office is on. You think Bucky has memories of this place for the way he leads you there with almost no words.

A quick knock on the door, and then he’s shaking hands and exchanging broad grins with a young woman.

“Sergeant Barnes!” She exclaims after letting go of his hand. “It’s about time you showed your face around here.”

Bucky is blushing and you’re so enamored with him you can barely stand it. While he’s talking, you dig your phone out of your pocket and text Peggy.

I know you’re on your honeymoon, but SOS! I need help.

Bucky turns to you, and you realize he’s trying to introduce you.

“This is Shuri. She’s the one who operated on me and helped me with PT after my injury.”

“It’s really great to meet you,” you tell her, trying to ignore her curious look.

“You as well.”

She and Bucky start talking again, and even though you can tell Bucky’s still a little nervous to be here, you’re enthralled by the sibling-like relationship he has with his former doctor.

“I want to make a donation,” Bucky says quietly. “I didn’t know who to go to about it. I want to give it specifically to this ward, to the work you’re doing.”

You feel like you’re intruding, but he keeps looking to you like he needs reassurance, so you smile at him.

“I’ve-- I’ve been putting money away over the last few years and I’m at a place now where I want to help.”

You send another text to Peggy.

Seriously, SOS!!!!! If you don’t call me soon, I’m going to do something I regret.

A minute later, your phone rings, and you excuse yourself to the hallway.

“Thank God.”

“Darling. I love you, but what could possibly be so important that you had to call on the first day of--”

“I think I’m in love with Bucky and I have no idea what to do about it.”

A choked noise comes from behind you and you whirl around, mortified to see Bucky there, eyes wide, pale.

“Oh, shit. Peggy-- I have to go.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Bye, love you.” You hang up quickly, and take a step towards Bucky before you even register you’re doing it. “Bucky--”

“Are you-- I heard you were talking to Peg, I thought something was wrong.”

“I’m-- oh God, Bucky, I-- I have to go.”

“Wait--”

Your tears are overflowing now. You’re so embarrassed, you have no idea how you’re going to look him in the eye, let alone sleep in the same bed as him.

Vision blurry, you decide to take the stairs two at a time instead of waiting for the elevator, and you’re gone before he can catch up to you.

Bucky’s ears are ringing as he stares after you. He feels like he has shell shock again - unable to comprehend anything that just happened.

“Need a chair, soldier?” Shuri asks him, clearly having overheard the entire thing, and he nods dumbly, basically collapsing into a chair near her desk.

I think I’m in love with Bucky.

Your words echo over and over in his mind, and he honestly can’t believe what he just heard.

Your friendship has always been complicated, but the way Bucky feels about you is simple. He’s crazy about you. Crazy for you, and terrified that he’s not good enough for you, so he’s pushed you away time and time again, despite all evidence pointing to the fact that you might like him too.

Sharing a room -- a bed -- with you has been every one of his daydreams come to life. (A lot less kissing, sure, but whatever)

Now this-- this revelation, it’s too much.

“All the most important events of your life seem to take place at this hospital, Bucky.” Shuri says, gentle teasing in her tone.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky groans, “What the hell do I do?”

“You’re going to go after her.” Shuri says simply, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. She rolls her eyes. “It’s obvious you’re in love with her too.” Bucky thinks he must look horrified, because she continues, “You’ve never brought anyone here before. I couldn’t convince you to come back even for a tour of the new labs. And the one time you do come of your own free will, you bring her. What does that tell you?”

A half hour later, Bucky has called you three times and has checked at the hotel twice, and now he’s at a park near the hotel, on a bench, having no idea what to do.

Of course that’s when Steve calls.

“I hear you’re having a crisis.”

Bucky groans. “‘M not having a crisis. A moment, maybe.”

“She told you she loved you?”

“She told Peggy she loved me, and I was eavesdropping, and she ran away crying.”

Steve is silent.

“Right? It’s bad. It’s so bad. Maybe if I’d just been… I don’t know. More talkative during this trip? Or maybe I should have just gotten my own room and saved us both the trouble.”

“Look, no offense, but you’re both so dense.”

Bucky scoffs. “Thanks.”

“I love her like a sister and love you like a brother, but everyone knows you two have a thing for each other. Why else did everyone steer clear of the two of you at the wedding? It’s obvious, dude.”

Bucky has never felt so stupid in his entire life. All these years, he tried to distance himself from you, sure that he was only going to get hurt if he put himself out there. He liked you too much to risk ruining a friendship, even if it was barely a friendship to begin with. Quick to argue and stubborn, you were also generous and kind, beautiful, and passionate about your work and your friends and your family.

You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and you terrify him.

And you love him.

Apparently.

He’s on his feet again.

“I have to go,” He tells Steve. “I’ll text you later.”

“Good luck.”

You’re back at your shared hotel room, trying to pack up and leave before Bucky finds you. It’s childish, sure, but you can’t take this anymore.

You’re going to get a new room at a different hotel, and try to salvage the rest of your vacation.

The door opens before you can finish zipping your bag, and you turn to see Bucky storming in, his face unreadable and a piece of paper in his hand.

“What the hell is this?”

You turn away. “It’s a note.”

You assume he’s noticed your bags. “Were you really going to take off and just leave a note that says you’re sorry?”

His hand on your elbow forces you to turn around, and you feel like you’re going to cry again.

His face softens. “Talk to me. Please.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry, Bucky. You were-- you were trying to do something for you, and my loud mouth just had to ruin it. I never meant for you to find out--”

“You were never going to tell me you’re in love with me?”

You blanche. “God, I mean-- I don’t know! It’s not… this isn’t easy…”

“You still think I hate you.”

You freeze, thinking back to your drunk conversation from a few nights ago. “I don’t think you hate me.”

“Good. Because I don’t. Far from it, actually.”

You try to squash the little seed of hope blooming in your chest.

“You know, when we first met, I was jealous of you. You were closer to Steve in a year than anyone else, and I didn’t know where I fit anymore. I didn’t understand what made you so special.”

Frowning, you try to turn away, but he won’t let you.

“But then I got to know you. I got to know how you care about people, and how you looked after Steve when he first got back. I learned how you do everything you can to make other people happy, but don’t try to do the same thing for yourself. I learned that you’re a lightweight and you’re a flirt when you’re drunk, and I learned that I--” He stops, catches his breath. “I learned that it only took me a few months to fall in love with you so deeply that I can’t see my way out.”

Your insides feel like mush. The touch of his hand slides up to your shoulder, and you feel more alive the closer he gets to you.

“I pushed you away, because you’re way too good for me, sweetheart. You always have been. You don’t need someone like me weighing you down. And when this room mix-up happened, it was both the best and worst thing to happen to me.”

“Don’t you dare,” you whisper, and his brows furrow, confused, as you continue. “Don’t you dare say you’re not good enough. You’re-- I’ve never met a better person than you, James Barnes. I think I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

You’re both silent, staring into each other’s eyes, the room crackling with the energy of confessions and tension.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you’re kissing, Bucky’s hand moving to the back of your head as his free arm slides around your waist to haul you against him. Fire licks through your veins as he deepens the kiss, barely letting you break for air before dragging you in again, consuming you entirely.

It could be minutes or hours that you’re kissing him in the middle of your hotel room surrounded by your luggage, but when you break apart, your legs are weak and he chuckles as he keeps you upright, a smug smile growing on his face.

“Shut up.” You say weakly.

“Don’t leave.”

You sigh, forehead leaning against his collarbones.

“I haven’t had a vacation in a long time either, now that I think about it.” He offers, head tilting to one side as he looks you over. “You think you could stand to room with me for another week?”

You can’t stop touching him; hands gliding over his shoulders as he noses at the spot behind your ears where you’re the most sensitive. “I might be able to be talked into it.”

He smiles, and it’s blinding. “I love you,” he whispers, right before he kisses you again.

Later that night when you call Peggy on speakerphone and tell her the entire story, Steve takes the phone and says “told you so,” before hanging up.

Bucky’s arms around your waist, you’re already thinking of writing the concierge who made the room mix-up a thank you card.

End

#FanFictionariesClassicTropeChallenge #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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holdmecloser-gandydancer · 3 years

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read here or on ao3!

Being a Regulator was one of the worst jobs Killian had ever decided to take. Don’t get her wrong, she knew that the purpose she served was great; she totally believed in doing everything in her power to keep the world safe, but it was so incredibly lonely. A good portion of Killian’s job description involved being prepared to kill any of her colleagues at a given moment. Didn’t exactly make for the most fun office relationships.

It was scary to think that at any moment, anyone in the Bureau could make a break against their procedures and require - well – regulation. When the Director had first approached about employment, Killian didn’t think much about it.

Okay, so my duties would be to stop people who use these things that you’re looking for?

In very simple terms, yes.

Great. When do I start?

Are you certain, Killian? This is going to be a highly dangerous job.

Listen, Madam Director, it beats the current gig I got so I’m in.

As the Bureau grew and turned into something much grander and more professional, Killian began to excel. She proved herself time and time again to be the most competent Regulator that the Bureau had. But it was that fact that she grappled with most.

Killian tried to keep a neutral face when she entered the Director’s office. She was being sent down planetside, though the details of the mission hadn’t yet been revealed to her.

“Killian, thank you for coming so quickly. As you know, your services are needed,” The Director’s face looked troubled and far away. “It’s Brian.” Killian let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.

“No way, Brian? Magic Brian? Director, surely there’s some kind of mistake! He wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Killian thought of the highly complimentary, dramatic drow she’d met her first day on the base. They had both been in the first crop of employees and they had become fast friends. Everyone had taken to calling him Magic Brian because he was simply too bombastic to have such a plain name. And he was one of the most accomplished arcanists any of the Bureau employees had seen.

“Killian, I wish that were the case. Unfortunately, during his reconnaissance mission to locate the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet, he began to turn his back on the Bureau. Rather than seeking the Gauntlet for the good of the organization, we have it on good authority that he has started to seek it out for personal gain. In fact, we believe that he has,” the Director paused for a moment, considering her words carefully. “We believe he has hostages of sorts. It’s vital that you get down there, deal with him, and if you can, retrieve the Gauntlet.” Killian’s stomach fell. Regulating was one thing. That was her job, one she was very good at. But the idea of having to actually handle one of the relics herself? It scared her more than she cared to say.

“And I’m going alone?”

“Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be another option. Leeman is in the midst of preparing for a reclaiming mission himself and I don’t feel comfortable sending another Seeker down because I do fear that would put you in a hard position. Furthermore, I don’t believe the other Regulators are capable yet, frankly.” Killian’s thoughts rushed to Carey Fangbattle and to Boyland. Her regulator team. She was the unofficial captain, she supposed. She’d been at the Bureau for a few months longer than the two of them. And she also understood the Director’s unspoken addendum. She didn’t want to send more Regulators than necessary in case Killian herself had to be dealt with. Killian clenched her jaw, hoping no hesitation showed on her face.

“I’ll go get suited up and meet you and Avi at the hangar.”

“Actually, it’s just going to be Avi. He’s now going to be the sole one in charge of the Bureau’s transportation needs. The Millers have been working on adjustments to our system that make it easier to be manned by a single operator.”

“Oh shit, good for him.”

“Yes, he’s proven himself to be quite competent.” Lucretia reached into her desk and retrieved parchment and an inkwell. Killian turned to leave the Director’s office. “Oh, and Killian?”

“Yes, Madam Director?” the Director pressed her lips into a tight line.

“Don’t disclose the details of this to anyone yet. I know this is likely going to hit everyone hard and I frankly don’t want you to have to deal with that. I’ll figure out how to break the news.” Killian nodded and exited the office.

Late in the night she returned from the ruins of Phandalin, Killian found herself in the voidfish’s chambers. There had been a miraculous amount of excitement at the fact that a relic had been recovered and that the Bureau’s Reclaimer team had grown by three. Killian had done her best to slip away, sight unseen after she debriefed with the Director. She didn’t exactly feel like celebrating.

Instead, she felt like sitting on the ground in front of the voidfish’s tank, basking in its gentle light. She knew that Brian's Rites of Remembrance had been hastily done since the Director informed the Bureau of his treason. Traitors don’t get honor. But they do get grief, Killian thought to herself. She knew that Brian was too far gone by the time she reached him. She knew that he’d been ready to kill her with no second thought. She knew that he’d betrayed the Bureau and that betrayals wouldn’t stand in the organization. But all those facts didn’t keep her heart from twinging at the thought of Brian’s life just being wiped from memory.

“How’re you holding up?” Killian turned and saw Johann stride out from the shadows of the large room. She sighed and shrugged. Johann gazed at the voidfish for a moment before sitting on the ground beside her. They sat in silence for a while until a squeak by the doorway caused them both to turn around. Avi gave a meek wave before entering the room.

“Hey Avi,” Killian murmured quietly. He said nothing as he sat on Killian’s other side. The trio’s gazed up at the voidfish.

“Killian,” Avi began suddenly, “How was he?”

“He wasn’t himself. Not at all. I don’t know if that made it easier or harder, to be honest. I'm just glad that it wasn’t me who did him in.”

“Right, it was one of the new guys?” Johann turned to look at Killian for a moment. She nodded.

“Yeah, that new wizard, Taako, I think. I just still can’t believe he’s gone.” Killian didn’t tell anyone about the fact that she didn’t land a single hit on Magic Brian or his stupid fucking spider. She went running as soon as she could.

Avi tilted his head back and frowned. “Shit. His fiancé.” The trio grimaced. They all had lovely and ornate invitations in their own dormitories to Brian’s wedding. But at least the voidfish was supposed to handle all the messy things for the non-inoculated.

“I'm gonna miss that son of a bitch.” Johann mused quietly.

“Me too.” A gravitas-filled voice made the trio turn. The Director stood in the doorway, flanked by Carey and Boyland. They approached, staying mostly silent. Carey squeezed Killian’s shoulder and the six of them stayed in the voidfish’s chambers for some time.

Killian really did her best to keep from getting close to her coworkers, especially after what she was forced to do in Wave Echo Cave. It was terrifying to think that someday someone could be her coworker and then her assignment the very next day. Annoyingly, though, Carey Fangbattle seemed determined to break through Killian’s walls. She had done her best to get Killian to open up about her past, her fears, and everything in-between. Killian did her best to keep the dragonborn woman at arm’s length but the rogue was persistent.

“So, what was your deal before the Bureau?” she had asked one day while the pair was sparring. Boyland was home visiting family.

“Uh, you know, typical stuff. Pretty small family, we’re from a town outside of Neverwinter. They’re mostly all fighters so I took up that mantle. It was a pretty basic choice. What about you?”

“Heh, less basic than that. Small family too, just my parents, my brother, and me. He became a bard and I became a rogue. Our parents hate both these paths for both of us,” Carey chuckled after dodging a particularly swift sideswipe from Killian. “But you can’t ever seem to please barbarians, you know?” Killian laughed stepped out of the way of a deft roll Carey did. They continued sparring and joking for hours.

Killian found herself back in the voidfish’s chambers after she heard about Leeman Kessler and again after she heard about Captain Captain Bane. She hadn’t been particularly close to either of them be she saw that both these losses hurt Avi and Lucretia, respectively. Both times, she found herself surrounded by the five others who’d come together after the death of Magic Brian. They never coordinated it or spoke about it but something about basking in the company of each other in the glow of the voidfish gave them all a comfort none of them would admit to needing. At one point, Carey began to slip in beside Killian, forcing Avi to scoot to the orc’s other side. The rest of them changed position pretty frequently, depending on when they arrived. The Director eventually began siting on the floor with the five of them. When they were all in their unofficial ceremony for Captain Captain Bane, everyone had the courtesy to ignore the few tears shed by the Director.

Killian began to grow closer to Carey which scared the orc. It wasn’t that she didn’t love all the joy that the rogue brought her. That wasn’t it at all. But she couldn’t help but think about the fact that part of both their job descriptions involved being prepared to destroy their colleagues at any given moment. It wasn’t that Killian didn’t want to grow closer to Carey. If she was being honest, she’d love nothing more. She was just terrified.

Five of them gathered after Killian and Carey returned from the Miller’s lab. Boyland’s Rites ceremony wouldn’t be performed for some time. None of them were prepared to write out every detail of the man who’d brightened their days countless times.

They’d all already gathered after learning of the passing of Maureen Miller, but this time was different.

Maureen Miller and Lucas Miller would not receive Rites, though that didn’t stop the group from mourning them. Killian and Carey had quietly agreed to keep up the charade Magnus had set up in the lab. They both intended on interrogating him about it, but this was not the place to unwind it.

Truthfully, all of them were openly crying. Their tears were mostly quiet but they traced bright, shiny paths down their faces in the glow of the tank.

“Fucking Boyland. Him and his fucking cigars,” Carey said, leaning against Killian. She said nothing, instead choosing to wrap a protective arm around the dragonborn woman.

“I just can’t stop thinking about all his kids,” Avi’s face was unusually solemn. He retrieved his flask from his pocket and took a swig from it before passing it to Johann.

“Well, I mean, I understand that he was using a relic but,” Johann took a swig and passed the flask to Killian “Lucas was just a kid. I can’t believe that the Miller line is just… gone.”

Killian drank from the flask and passed it to Carey. “I can’t believe all the sketchy shit he was doing in that lab.” Carey gulped down some Brandywine and tentatively passed the flask to the Director.

“Grief is one hell of a drug,” the Director said hollowly, draining the remainder of the flask. “He was destroyed by the loss of his mother. Losing a loved one makes you do terrible things, especially if you think you could get them back.” She slid the flask back to Avi. The four others in the chamber glanced at the Director but said nothing. She was a woman who seemed to be haunted by griefs none of them could ever imagine.

Killian let her guard down at last. She let Carey inside her walls and was truthfully never happier. There was still an ever-present stripe of fear in Killian’s heart but somehow, when Carey was in her arms, it didn’t matter so much. Killian decided to appreciate and love Carey while she was alive rather than wait until she was despairing in front of a cryptic fish with an assortment of her closest friends and confidants.

After the day of Story and Song, after the Hunger had been defeated, after the base had been cleaned up, after a world of revelations had come to light, Killian and Carey found themselves in the voidfish’s chambers. Well, what used to be the voidfish’s chambers. Fisher was no longer there, the tank was shattered, and there was a noticeable absence in the room. They still sat in the spots they’d become so used to sitting in, though the room was far darker than it used to be. They both had their head in their hands when they heard familiar footsteps pad into the room. Avi practically collapsed next to Killian. She wrapped an arm around her friend and pulled him in close. None of them could speak. What could you say?

“I can’t believe it. In his last fucking act he just –“ Avi broke his sentence off and shook his head. He reached into his pocket and fished out his flask, dented but still functional. He held it up in a toasting motion and took a deep drink. Killian grabbed it from him and followed suit before passing it to Carey. Like a ghost, the Director, Lucretia, the woman they all suddenly knew in ways they never expected, appeared at Carey’s side. She wordlessly and unceremoniously sat down, taking the flask.

“How are you all doing?” she asked after a sip of Brandywine.

“Uh, not fucking great.” Avi reached out for the flask with one hand, scrubbing tears away with the other.

“Yeah, Madam Director, it’s been a bit of a day,” Carey said hoarsely before burying her face into Killian’s side.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Well, how are you doing, Lucretia?” Killian asked after a moment of silence. Lucretia barked out a humorless laugh.

“Shitty.”

Carey and Killian’s wedding was a beautiful affair, but it wasn’t without its more somber moments. The two women had an entire row of empty chairs reserved at the ceremony. They said nothing about their purpose but it didn’t take much energy to determine their purpose.

At one point in the evening, the pair found themselves sitting with Avi and Lucretia.

“And here’s the beautiful couple!” Avi said brightly, wrapping the brides in a tight hug.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” Lucretia delivered a hug to the couple once they detangled from Avi.

“It really was, huh?” Carey squeezed Killian’s hand. Killian’s smile was tinged with sadness.

“Hey um. Thank you both for being here. There’s already too many people missing and I don’t know how it would have been without you both.”

“Killian, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Lucretia reached a hand out and squeezed the orc’s arm. Avi looked around and snagged four glasses of champagne off a waiter’s tray. After passing glasses to the three women around him, Avi raised his glass in a toast.

“To Johann and Boyland.”

Carey raised her glass. “To Noelle and Captain Captain Bane.”

Lucretia followed suit. “To Maureen Miller and Magic Brian.”

Killian raised her glass. “Fuck it, to Fisher and Junior.” The four laughed gently before toasting.

Killian was never more grateful for her friends than she was in that moment. So much had been lost in the pursuit of balance, but she was grateful that their memories would remain with her. And she was never so glad to have been finished with a job.

#taz balance #taz #the adventure zone #tazb #killian #carey fangbattle #lucretia #avi #johann #taz fic #my writing #team sweet flips

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wikiangela-fanfics · 3 years

Text

"I keep my promises" - Sambucky

Ao3

This is part 2 to "You should smile more"

part 1, part 3

I started writing it before episode 6, so the fact that they dealt with all that Flag Smashers stuff is just really vaguely mentioned! and it's not important to the fic because I'm all about the fluff lmao

also, because of that, the cookout scene is not here but I might write a different fic about it idk

There will be part 3! might take a while though haha

again, thank you SO SO SO much to @tasteslikestrawbebbies for beta-reading ♥♥♥

Enjoy ♥

***

Bucky kept his promise. Or at least the part about coming to visit once they were done with everything. Sam just hoped he really was gonna stay, as long as possible.

He was excited for Bucky to visit. At least until he actually saw Bucky on his porch one morning, and suddenly he was really nervous. What do they do now? Do they hug hello? Do they kiss? Damn, Sam desperately wanted to kiss those lips again.

But Bucky just said “Hi” and smiled, making Sam feel the stupid butterflies in his stomach again. In the short time they hadn’t seen each other he almost forgot how annoying this feeling was. Especially since it was caused by none other than Bucky Barnes, the one-hundred-year-old ex-assassin with a staring problem, whose smile was enough to make Sam forget his own name.

“Took you long enough.” Sam said, rolling his eyes, really trying not to grab Bucky’s perfect face and kiss him breathless. He wasn’t really sure where they stood. Bucky did make an impression that he wanted this to go somewhere, last time he was there, but then they hadn’t seen each other, and there wasn’t really time to make out or have heart-to-hearts on the mission. And then they hadn’t seen each other again for a few days after they dealt with all that shit. And Sam was almost sure that maybe Bucky changed his mind, but now here he was. Standing on the porch, looking so gorgeous in early morning light, bag in hand, without as much as a text, again. Of course, they had talked on the phone when Bucky was in New York, and they texted, although not as much as Sam would’ve wanted. But the topic of them never came up.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he grinned. “You missed me?”

“You wish.” Sam scoffed, as if he could still deny the fact that he did, in fact, miss Bucky. And Bucky knew that, of course he did. But still, Sam wasn’t gonna just admit it out loud. At least not yet. Honestly, all he really wanted was to stick his tongue down Bucky’s throat, and when he does that, then he can admit that he missed him a little bit. He felt his cheeks heat up at the mere thought and decided that he needed to get it together, because he was being pathetic. It was just Bucky, for fuck’s sake. Just his really annoying not-partner, not-exactly-friend, maybe not even coworker… whatever-they-were-now. “Come on in.” he sighed, opening the door wider. “We’re just having breakfast.” he added, because it was morning. The boys hadn’t even left for school yet. It was early, and Bucky was already there.

He walked back to the kitchen, Bucky trailing behind him, after dropping his bag by the door.

“Hi Bucky!” the boys exclaimed excitedly once they saw him. They were sitting at the table, already halfway through the meal.

“Hey, guys.” he said with a smile, high fiving both of them. Then he looked at Sarah and flashed her one of his most charming smiles. One of those he had never directed at Sam, not that he cared. “Hi, Sarah.” he said, his tone similar to when he first met her. Sam couldn’t contain a small huff, which caused both his sister and Bucky to look at him, Sarah with surprise, Bucky with amusement.

“Nice to see you again, Bucky.” Sarah just said, apparently deciding to ignore Sam, which he was thankful for. He didn’t want to get into that now. Not when he wasn’t sure what that even was. “You eaten breakfast yet?”

“No.” Bucky shrugged, deciding to take off that damn leather jacket of his. Sam definitely did not ogle him as he did. Obviously not. Not even when he was left in just a tight t-shirt. Nope. “The plane was early, and I wasn’t really hungry then.” he sat down at the empty place at the table.

“I hope you are now. Let me get you a plate.” she got up, while Sam slowly sat down too.

“You know you could’ve gotten a later flight, right?” Sam said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Sam.” Bucky said and Sam immediately looked up at him. “Don’t even try to complain, you invited me here. And you really wanted me to stay last time I was here, if I remember correctly.” he added, a smirk on his face, his tone a little teasing, last sentence even bordering on suggestive. Someone felt much more confident than before, huh?

Sam felt his face heat up, but he didn’t answer. He did, however, see his sister look between him and Bucky in confusion, but also with a small, barely-there smile. He knew she would have some questions, especially if Bucky kept it up. Both the comments, and the flirting with Sarah. It was bothering Sam. Of course he wasn’t jealous, but it was bothering him. Only a little bit.

Fortunately, Sarah made small talk for the remainder of the meal, and AJ and Cass were really excited to talk to Bucky too, so it wasn’t quiet. Then the boys left for school, and Sarah was about to start cleaning up, but Bucky stopped her.

“Let me take care of that, you just go to work.” he stood up and smiled that stupid flirtatious smile again. And normally Bucky’s smiles would get Sam to smile too, but right then he wasn’t in the mood.

“You’re a guest, Bucky.” she chastised, trying to grab the plates, but he took them first.

“I insist. As a thank you for delicious breakfast.” for some reason he decided to wink at her in that moment, and Sam’s blood boiled. He loved his sister, he really did, but in that moment he just needed her to leave Bucky alone - even if it was technically Bucky who was doing all the flirting… Sam was really confused about everything, including, or rather especially, his own thoughts and feelings.

“Okay.” she rolled her eyes after a second, relenting to Bucky’s stare, no surprise there. “Just this once.” she said, pointing her finger at Bucky. “Thank you.” she added, walking out of the kitchen.

As Bucky started cleaning, Sam didn’t move to help. He just sat there, admiring how good Bucky looked, and how nice it was to see him in such a domestic setting.

When Sarah finally left the house, Bucky was about to finish washing the dishes. Sam never would’ve thought that he would ever see him doing that. Such a simple, mundane task, and yet it was kind of abstract to see. Sam walked over to him and leaned against the counter, close to the sink.

“I think I told you to stop flirting with my sister.” he tried to sound casual, but when Bucky looked at him with a grin, he knew he failed.

“I’m not.” he rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?” he teased, knowing the answer perfectly well.

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t even going to bother pretending that he didn’t care, or that it was just because he was a protective brother. He thought they were past that.

“Oh, I’m not actually sure.” Bucky’s expression turned mock-contemplative, as if he was straining to remember. “You might need to refresh my memory. You know, I am pretty old, my memory is not the same as it used to be.” he tried to sound and look sad or nostalgic, but he was having too much fun with this conversation. Way too much, because Sam was not amused in the slightest.

“Really? You making memory jokes now?” he raised an eyebrow. He immediately thought about Bucky’s time as the Winter Soldier, when he didn’t remember anything, and how he was struggling with reality as he got the memories back… and even just the memories of the Soldier killing people, that were still haunting Bucky. Sam figured memory might be a sensitive topic, but here Bucky was, making jokes about it. “And you seemed to remember that I wanted you to stay.” he added more quietly, remembering what Bucky said to him earlier.

“Yeah, well, it’s getting kinda hazy now.” Bucky said, putting another plate on the drying rack. “I’m really trying to remember, but I might need a little refre-”

His sentence was cut short by a quiet “Oh, for fuck’s sake” muttered by Sam, who then grabbed Bucky’s face, slamming their mouths together. Bucky immediately kissed back, turning fully towards Sam and putting his wet hands on the small of Sam’s back, bringing him closer. The kiss probably would have gotten deeper and more heated, as Sam was about to add some tongue action, but then Bucky had to pull away. Had to, because he couldn’t kiss while smiling this hard. And when Sam looked at him, there was a shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face. He looked so pleased with himself, probably because he got Sam to initiate the kiss again. Truth be told, Sam probably wouldn’t be able to resist those lips much longer anyway.

“Shut up.” Sam said, lightly pushing him away, trying to keep his expression annoyed, but he knew there was a smile forcing itself on his face, too. Bucky just chuckled, getting back to finishing the dishes. Once he was done, he wiped his hands and turned to face Sam.

“You don’t need to be jealous of Sarah.” he said teasingly, probably just to annoy Sam.

“I’m not- I’m not fucking jealous!” Sam said, maybe a little too fast, and a little too loud. “I don’t care.” he knew he just contradicted what he said earlier, but fuck it. He might have cared, but he wasn’t gonna let Bucky believe he was jealous.

“Sure you don’t.” he rolled his eyes, going to pick up his bag and then to the living room, dropping it on the couch. Sam followed him. “So what are we doing today?”

“What?” he was a little distracted by watching Bucky, as he walked in front of him, so he wasn’t really listening. Damn, the more he was around Bucky, the more he wanted him. Maybe he should’ve visited Bucky in New York, where his family wasn’t around, and… oh no, he’s not thinking about that, not yet. Bucky hasn’t been there half an hour and Sam’s mind was already shutting down all rational thoughts. This was getting ridiculous.

“Do you have anything else that needs fixing? You wanna train again? Or are we just gonna sit here and do nothing? C’mon, I’m a guest. You should plan something to do.” he shrugged, sitting on the couch, while Sam just stood there by the door, looking at him. He didn’t really know where to look. His eyes wandered from Bucky’s muscular chest covered by the super tight t-shirt, to the strong flesh arm, to the metal arm that looked so alluring, to Bucky’s face and the blue eyes that stared at him a lot, and the lips that Sam was dying to kiss again.

“What?” he repeated, feeling his breath quicken a bit. Then he finally managed to snap out of it. He needed to get a grip, Bucky was already way too smug about this whole thing they had, whatever it was. “You didn’t let me know when you were coming, I didn’t-” he sighed. “I guess I can show you around the town. It’s not much, but.” he shrugged. “And we’ll figure out what to do later when we have to. But we could maybe go for a drink in the evening. Or grab something to eat.” he was just thinking out loud now, but Bucky smirked again. Sam was glad he didn’t finish his last thought out loud. To grab something to eat he actually wanted to add: just the two of us, without my family, especially my sister who you seem to like to flirt with, but I am not jealous. Yeah… he might need to talk to Sarah before he accidentally acts like a complete asshole towards her, which was probable, as he was not thinking when Bucky was around.

“You inviting me on a date, Wilson?” his tone was teasing and Sam immediately wanted to throw some snarky comment or just deny it, but… that was actually a nice idea. If that’s what Bucky wanted.

“Depends. You up for it?” he asked, putting a smirk on his face, and trying to sound and act casual, leaning on the doorframe and almost losing his balance, making Bucky’s lips twitch as if he wanted to laugh. Sam would be glad to hear that beautiful sound, but he would also be really annoyed that he was laughing at him, so he was glad Bucky kept it in. “So?” he prompted when instead of answering Bucky just kept looking at him.

“Sure.” he shrugged, as if it wasn’t as big of a deal for him as it was for Sam. “But just so you know,” he added, that freaking smug smile back on his face. “I don’t put out on the first date.” and he had the audacity to fucking wiggle his eyebrows.

“What?” Sam’s brain short-circuited. “Why would you say-? What?” Bucky just laughed and gave him a knowing look, as if he noticed how Sam was ogling him since he got there. And knowing Bucky and his perceptiveness, he probably did notice. “You’re so annoying.” he just sighed, his face on fire, avoiding looking at Buck now. He tried to be cool, but he was painfully aware that Bucky could see through all his bullshit.

“Hey, you wanted me here.” he reminded again, that Sam did, in fact, invite him there. And he was quite insistent, not only when Bucky was there, but when they talked on the phone, he did try to subtly ask when he was planning to visit.

“I’m starting to regret that.” Sam said, trying to seem annoyed, but they both knew he was not serious.

“Well, tough. I’m here now.” Bucky answered, but then he added, his tone more earnest: “I promised I’ll visit and stay until you want me to leave. And I keep my promises. So whenever you want me to go, just say the word.”

Sam finally looked at him. Bucky seemed a bit unsure now, and he didn’t even bother trying to hide it. His eyes found Sam’s, staring into them from across the room, as if he could find the answers there. Of course he must’ve known that Sam wanted him to stay, that was just their usual banter. But apparently, he needed a bit of reassurance.

“Buck, don’t be ridiculous.” Sam rolled his eyes and let his lips form into a small, fond smile. He quickly crossed the room and sat down next to Bucky, who kept looking at him. He didn’t even correct him on calling him ‘Buck’ so that was good, and it made Sam happier than it should. “It’s gonna take more than you being annoying for me to kick you out. And that’s a good moment to remind you to stop flirting with Sarah.” he added, not able to help himself, and Bucky grinned again.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous.” he said.

“Say that one more time and you’re out of here.” Sam responded sternly, getting genuinely annoyed. Of course there was no way he would actually kick Bucky out, but he could at least pretend to consider it.

“Mhm.” Bucky rolled his eyes, clearly sure now that Sam won’t want him to go. But before Sam could say anything more, Bucky leaned in and kissed him. And Sam immediately melted against those lips. He briefly wondered what it all meant, what they were, where they stood… but as Bucky slipped his tongue into his mouth, all thoughts disappeared. He felt like he was floating somewhere outside his body. Or as if he was flying, it was the same rush of excitement. His hands were all over Bucky, it was as if they were just doing it on their own, he barely registered their movements. He was trying to bring Bucky as close to him as possible. Bucky’s hands, however, he felt all too vividly and intensely. He felt every little touch, as Bucky’s hands moved along his arms, to his back, to the back of his head, to cradle his face… And it felt pretty insane, too, with one flesh, hot hand, and the other cool metal, both leaving Sam’s skin burning. Insane in all the best ways. And adding Bucky’s amazing lips to that… he was a mess. He could not form one coherent thought. Bucky knew what he was doing and he was an amazing kisser. And the one and only thought that came to Sam’s mind was, if he’s that good at kissing, I really want to see what other things he can do with his mouth… and other parts of his body. But he didn’t allow himself to go there. Not yet, not now. Not on his sister’s couch, minutes after Bucky was flirting with her, which, yeah, bothered Sam.

When they pulled away, Sam was out of breath, Bucky was panting a bit too.

“So that was, uh.” Sam started, just to say anything, but his brain didn’t seem to be working yet. “Fun.” he finished and Bucky snickered. And Sam cursed himself silently. Out of all the things he could say, that was fun was what came out of his mouth. Fun? Well, it was fun, but more importantly it was hot and fucking amazing.

“Yeah, it was.” Bucky agreed with amusement. Then he leaned back on the couch, the metal arm on the back of it, behind Sam. “So are we going?”

“Where?” Sam asked dumbly, momentarily completely forgetting everything that happened before that kiss.

“You were gonna show me the town? So we’re not stuck here the whole day?” he raised his eyebrow. “I wouldn’t mind staying here and making out, but we probably shouldn’t. You know, I don’t want you to get too… excited.” he added, looking deliberately at Sam’s crotch, where his pants might have been starting to get a bit too tight. There was an amused and smug smirk on Bucky’s face.

“Fuck you.” Sam grumbled, feeling his face heat up again. God, that was embarrassing. They only made out, and here Sam was, half hard, not able to stop himself from thinking about how hot Bucky is, and what he wants to do to him… His thoughts were reaching a dangerous territory, so he needed to get out of the house, where he would be able to focus on other things than Bucky. He’s always known Bucky was hot, but before they kissed, he was able to keep it together. Now, though...

“Sam, not yet.” his tone was exasperated. “I said not on the first date, so certainly not before it, either.” Bucky said and Sam started to regret every decision he’s made that led them to this moment. “I’m kind of old-fashioned.” he added with a shrug and a smirk.

“You’re such an ass.” Sam covered his face with his hands. “And you’re not old-fashioned, you’re just super old.” he added, his voice muffled by his hands. Bucky laughed and nudged his shoulder.

“I’m just messing with you, relax.” he said, ignoring the ‘old’ comment.

Sam lowered his hands and leveled Bucky with a stern look, earning another chuckle, which was such a great sound, he couldn’t help that the corners of his mouth turned upwards a little bit.

“Well, I’m glad you’re having fun at my expense.” Sam replied, rolling his eyes. But then, a small fond smile appeared at his face, and he added: “I like to see you smile.”

“Uh, thanks.” Bucky’s cheeks reddened, and he looked away for a second. Interesting. So he could shamelessly make sex jokes, but couldn’t take a compliment without blushing? That was important information. Sam didn’t know exactly why yet, but it was very important to remember. “I think we kinda established that last time.” Bucky added, referring to Sam blurting out that Bucky should smile more, but at least that whole situation led to them kissing, so he was happy.

“Yeah, but I just needed to tell you again. You have a really beautiful smile.” he said just to see Bucky’s face go red. He wanted to say more of what he likes about Bucky’s appearance, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop and he would give Bucky more opportunity to make fun of him. While Sam loved Bucky’s smile, his laugh happened to be the greatest sound he ever heard. His eyes were captivatingly blue, his face was so gorgeous Sam could stare at it for hours at a time, his jaw and those goddamn cheekbones... And his soft, kissable, amazing lips… and don’t even let him get started on the rest of Bucky’s body.

“Okay, let’s just talk about something else.” Bucky said, still not looking at Sam.

“We should probably go.” Sam said, licking his lips, as Bucky looked back at him. “I really don’t think I can trust myself when I’m alone with you right now.” he muttered and it was when Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise and then a smirk appeared on his face, that Sam realized that he said that out loud. “Fuck me.” he closed his eyes, wishing for the earth to open up and swallow him. And then he thought that he should really stop setting himself up for all Bucky’s jokes and teasing.

“Buy me dinner first.” Bucky responded and Sam couldn’t help himself, he reached out and punched Bucky’s arm that was behind him. What he forgot to take into account was that it was the vibranium one. He didn’t use much force, but his knuckles meeting the metal still hurt.

“Shit.” he hissed, clutching his hand with his other one. “It’s all your fault.”

“Obviously.” Bucky rolled his eyes and chuckled, taking his arm away from the back of the couch, and taking Sam’s hurt hand into his instead. Then Sam watched in awe as Bucky brought his hand to his lips and delicately kissed the knuckles. “If I’m gonna stick around, you gotta be more careful. Aim for the right one.” he said with amusement, shifting so that he was fully facing Sam now, and put his right arm more forward.

“Imma remember that.” he murmured, his eyes on his hand still in Bucky’s grip. “I’m gonna-” he quickly got up and started making his way to his room. “Gimme a minute and we can go out. Around people and distractions.” the last sentence was whispered already at his door, but he knew Bucky heard it, enhanced hearing and all, because he heard him laugh. Damn, seeing Buck so relaxed and happy and laughing… Sam felt all warm inside and his heart was doing flips every time he heard that wonderful sound. He was honestly a bit afraid of how he felt around Bucky. He could barely control himself, what he was doing and saying. He found himself wishing they could just have that date, maybe two, and he could finally do what he has wanted for a long time now - just jump Bucky’s bones. Of course, even if Bucky was kidding about it, Sam knew he was an asshole and he was going to keep his ‘no sex on the first date’ rule, or whatever it was. But he had a feeling Bucky wanted him as much as he wanted Bucky. And the whole sexual tension and frustration were driving him crazy, so sue him for wanting to relieve it. Obviously, he wanted Bucky in more ways than one. He wanted him in his life in general, he wanted Bucky to never leave his side, to kiss him and hold him, and sleep next to him, and just to be in every aspect of his life, eventually. But for now there was one thing he could focus on the most. And Bucky’s comments and jokes were not making it easier for him. Additionally, the more time he spent around Bucky, the more Bucky smiled and laughed, and just seemed so comfortable and relaxed, the more Sam’s heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. It felt as if his feelings for Bucky were growing every second. He occupied Sam’s mind all the time, and it was getting annoying. Damn Bucky Barnes and his piercing blue eyes and a gorgeous smile that lights up the room. Sam was so gone.

#sambucky #sambucky fic #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fluff #fluff #my writing #tfaws #sam and bucky #I suck at tags #second part #fanfic

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august-grey · 2 years

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i don't need your closure | chapter 10

read on ao3

masterpost

May 1985

“Honestly, Steve, stop being so dramatic. You can do so much worse than scooping ice cream for the summer.” Stepping out of the brand-new Starcourt Mall into the late-Spring sun, Alice slid her sunglasses onto her face. The day of job hunting had gone well, if she did say so herself. Claire’s certainly hadn’t been her first choice, but it was better than nothing. Plus, she thought, self-consciously, if you stood on your tiptoes in just the right spot by the earring racks in the front of the store, you could look directly into Scoops Ahoy on the lower floor of the mall. Alice chose not to dwell on why this fact was so relevant to her.

“Are you kidding me? This is bottom of the barrel stuff, Alice. You didn’t see the uniform they’re making me wear. Look at this!” Steve threw himself onto a bench and dug through the brown paper bag he’d been carrying before brandishing a white sailor’s cap in Alice’s face. She took it from him and swatted his hand away. Oh. Yeah, this was pretty bad. “Also, I’m pretty sure my coworker hates me already even though she barely knows me, so that’s gonna be fun.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Alice tried to console her obviously distraught friend. “This is just a stepping stone, Steve. We’ve gotta start somewhere.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve got that cushy job upstairs selling scrunchies to preteens. Meanwhile I’m going to be in the trenches, slinging ice cream to hoards of hot, hungry customers.”

“Think of the tips, though! People are going to be so grateful to you for providing respite from the heat, you’re going to be swimming in that sweet, sweet ice cream money.” Alice plopped down on the bench next to Steve, straightened out the cap in her hands, and placed it on his head. He immediately yanked it off and shoved it back into the bag out of sight, but not before Alice caught a flash of bright blue polyester. “Besides, it’s just for the summer, right? In a couple months we’ll be off to college and have to start the job hunt all over again.”

“Yeah, about that.” Steve’s voice lowered and she had to lean closer to hear him. “Turns out I’m going to be stuck in Hawkins a while longer. I didn’t get in, Al. No one wanted me.”

Alice’s stomach dropped. Oh god, she was an idiot. When her acceptance letters started coming in, she’d ignorantly assumed Steve’s were similar. He hadn’t mentioned anything to the contrary, at least. Regardless, she should have known something was off. Alice knew he’d been anxious when applying, but he’d worked so hard this year. Certainly the admissions offices could see how much improvement he’d made, why couldn’t that be taken into account? This was completely unfair. After what Steve had gone through…everything with the demodogs and the bullshit with Nancy and being bullied by Billy...Steve deserved so much better than feeling rejected yet again.

“Steve…”

“No, no. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter, really.” The catch in his voice gave away the fact that it did, in fact, matter to him. It pained Alice to see her normally overconfident friend like this; shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the concrete sidewalk. She laid a comforting hand on his back and felt him lean into her touch. “Don’t blame them, honestly. Just didn’t have the grades. Probably should’ve started caring before my last year of high school, huh? My parents are pissed, obviously. Which is why I’m going to be working a fucking dead end job instead of starting with my dad.”

“Screw what your parents think, Steve. This isn’t the end.” Absentmindedly patting Steve’s arm, Alice wracked her mind for a solution. “First of all, don’t think of Scoops as a dead end job; it’s a jumping off point. It’s experience to add to your resume. Secondly, have you looked at the community colleges around, or maybe a trade school? You don’t even need to go to school, really. We can look for apprenticeships or get you in at an entry level position somewhere. We should grab a paper and check the classifieds, do you have any change?”

It looked like Alice had a mission now; there was no way she was letting Steve feel this badly about himself without exhausting every resource. Spotting the newspaper vending box near the entrance of the mall, she sprang from the bench, digging through her purse for a few coins. Before she could rush off, she felt a hand snake around her wrist, refocusing her attention. Steve was looking up at her, amusement and something else she couldn’t place was sparkling in his eyes. Heart beating a bit faster, Alice let herself be pulled back down onto the bench.

“Jesus, Alice, calm down. You don’t need to solve my problems all at once. God, you don’t have to solve any of my problems, that’s not on you. Besides, it’s not so bad. At least I’ll be able to keep an eye on Dustin and the kids next year. Make sure they don’t get into much trouble without you here to wrangle them. Let’s just enjoy the summer for now, yeah? We can take a couple months to have some fun and work our minimum wage jobs and take advantage of not having to literally fight for our lives. We can just be teenagers for once.” Steve slid his hand from it’s gentle grip on Alice’s wrist, shifting to lace their fingers together. “Then we can figure out the future, okay?”

Shit. Alice seemed to have forgotten how to breath. This was just some friendly, casual hand-holding, right? All friends did this, didn’t they? Of course they don’t, you moron. She shook away the thought. This was really beginning to become a problem.

She had tried. Truly, honestly tried. For months. But despite her best efforts, Alice had continued the long and deep decent into a full blown crush on Steve Harrington. Of course, she outright refused to admit it to even herself, let alone Steve. Alice genuinely didn’t know what she would do if the relationship they had built over the past several months was suddenly gone because she did something stupid like admitting her stupid unrequited feelings for him. There was no way she’d even consider jeopardizing their friendship over that.

So instead Alice chose to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that stirred up every time she had any sort of physical contact with Steve. Which, to both her pleasure and dismay, seemed to be happening much more often lately. The occasional hug or accidental brush of limbs had evolved into much more purposeful touches. Ones that lingered maybe a tad too long. Thighs pressed against each other during movies or while studying. An arm draped over her shoulders or guiding hand on the small of her back while walking. And now, apparently, holding hands for no reason other than to just…touch.

“Okay?” Snapping back to reality, Alice nodded enthusiastically, giving him a tight-lipped smile. Steve grinned and squeezed her hand; Alice had to take a breath to center herself. She really had to sort herself out. “Speaking of being normal teenagers, what are we doing after prom?”

“Prom?” Alice parroted, brain not quite caught up yet. “You literally told me last week that prom was boring and overrated.”

“Well, yeah, it is. But I was mostly trying to make you feel better about being too sick to go last year. It won’t be so awful this year, not with you.” Catching the skeptical look on her face, Steve’s tone became more serious. “Alice…we can’t not go to our senior prom.”

“I don’t know…it’s only a week away and I don’t even have a dress or anything.” Alice bit her lip; it wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. Between college prep, extracurriculars, finals, and job hunting, prom had been the farthest thing from her mind. By the time she realized how quickly it was approaching, she thought it felt too late to consider going. “You really don’t have a date, already? No one asked you?”

Steve looked a bit sheepish before brushing off the question, “I mean, someone might’ve asked. But I don’t want to spend the night with some rando when I know for a fact I’d have an infinitely better time with someone I actually like.”

The fact that Steve had turned down going with an actual date for her did not escape Alice’s attention. Trying not to let it go to her head, she extracted her hand from Steve’s and stood up.

“If this is your way of asking me to prom, I pity your future fiancé.” Steve rolled his eyes at Alice, biting back a smile. “She won’t even know you’re proposing. Very roundabout, Harrington. You could’ve been like, ‘hey Alice, let’s just go prom together as friends ’ and I would’ve been like ‘sure, Steve, sounds great’ and this would’ve been settled a lot quicker.”

“Yeah…as friends…” Steve grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Alice asked, not quite catching what he had said.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. So…is that a yes or are you going to drag this out for the rest of the day?”

It was Alice’s turn to roll her eyes. Obviously she’d go with him. There wasn’t any part of her that would say no to Steve at this point. She was long gone, even if she wasn’t ready to reconcile that with herself just yet.

“C’mon. I wasn’t kidding when I said I had nothing to wear.” Steve scrambled up from the bench, following Alice back to the entrance of the mall. She slid her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head. “We’re shopping, Harrington.”

***

How the prom council managed to transform the high school gym into an Under the Sea fantasy completely mystified Alice. She had to admit, it was pretty impressive. Metallic streamers covered the walls and hung from the ceiling, papier-mâché jellyfish and cutouts of tropical fish bobbed above their heads, and the whole gymnasium was cast in a pretty, blue-green light that truly made it seem as though they were in whimsical underwater world instead of small-town Indiana.

Overall, prom really wasn’t as awful as Steve had made it out to be. The food left something to be desired, but Alice was actually having fun. When she wasn’t dancing wildly with her friends from band or drama club, Alice was being swept away to graze at the snacks laid out and gossip about their classmates with Steve. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she laughed so much. Steve was right, this was exactly what they needed after everything they’d been through.

The ending notes of a Pat Benetar tune rang through the gym, making way for the beginnings of a much slower song. Alice extracted herself from the small group of girls she’d been dancing with, face-flushed and fixing the straps of her dress, as her classmates began to pair off. Just as well, she needed a breather; her feet were screaming from inside the heels she’d naively convinced herself to wear, and she desperately needed a drink. She had somehow lost Steve a few songs ago and she scanned the crowd for him as she made her way over to the punch bowl.

Suddenly Alice felt a hand slide into hers. Before she had time to react, her arm was lifted above her head and she was being twirled straight into Steve’s chest. The emerald taffeta of Alice’s dress swished around her calves as she tried to regain her bearings after the sudden, full-body contact with her best friend.

“Dance with me?” He grinned down at her, wrapping his free arm around her waist to place his hand on the small of her back. He was gorgeous, almost ethereal, cast in the artificial light. His classic black tuxedo turned to a rich, deep midnight blue and the tie they’d scoured three different stores to find the exact shade of her dress, more teal than green now.

“We’ve been dancing all night, dummy.” She took a half step back, moving her free hand to rest on Steve’s shoulder. They really had been dancing, if you considered hopping around like maniacs and shouting lyrics at each other when their favorite songs played as dancing. But Alice wasn’t an idiot, she knew this was different. This felt different.

She swore she felt something shift as she and Steve swayed together to the beat of the music. Steve pulled her closer so that their bodies were flush with one another, so close that she could feel his heart beat against her own chest. Adjusting to the lack of space, she twined her arms around his neck. His hands settled on either side of her hips, holding her tight. Alice’s entire body was on fire.

“You really do look beautiful tonight, Alice.” Steve leaned down to whisper in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Well, you clean up pretty well yourself, Harrington.” Alice bit back her smile, playing it cool. He didn’t make it easy on her, however.

Alice’s mind spun as Steve’s head tilted, angling his face toward hers. He paused, gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips, as if waiting for Alice to grant him permission. Oh god, this was happening. Suddenly extremely grateful for the few inches her heels added to her height, Alice would only have to lean in to close the small gap between their mouths. If she did this, if she kissed Steve Harrington, everything would change. Their friendship would never be the same. But God did Alice want it. She wanted it so badly she could scream.

Fuck it. There was no way she could know what would happen after, but there was only one way to find out. Not giving herself another second to overthink, Alice rose to her tip toes and gently pressed her lips to Steve’s.

Or, at least she would have if someone hadn’t violently shouldered Steve as they passed by the pair. The sudden impact nearly knocked Steve off his feet, but Alice, already unsteady in her shoes, slipped and lost her grip on Steve’s neck, sending her toppling to the unforgiving gymnasium floor.

Landing hard on her elbow, Alice stifled her grunt of pain. Steve was upon her in a second, crouching down to help her sit up and scanning her for injury.

“You good?” Alice nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. She made to smooth out her skirt and make sure everything was covered when a shadow fell over them.

“Ooh, nasty fall, Henderson. My bad.” A voice drawled from far above her. Alice looked up into the smug, smirking face of Billy Hargrove; tie hung loose around his neck, dress shirt unbuttoned to show off a generous amount of chest. His date draped over his arm at least had the decency to throw Alice a look of pity. The couples around them had stopped dancing, finding more entertainment in the storm brewing in front of them.

“Fuck off, Hargrove.” Steve growled, wrapping a protective arm around Alice and hauling her to her feet. Alice steadied herself, cradling her sore elbow. That was surely going to bruise by the morning.

“What? It was an accident.” Billy feigned remorse, turning toward Alice. “Right, Henderson? You forgive me, right?”

“Leave us alone, Billy.” She muttered, just wanting to be done with him. Alice was so sick of this man. He’d already done enough damage, how much more could he possibly do to her and her friends.

“Aw, c’mon now. Don’t be like that.” He crooned, condescendingly. Alice pressed her lips together defiantly, not willing to give him any more satisfaction. “I’m hurt, Alice, truly. I thought you’d be a little more understanding when you consider our, uh, intimate history.”

That last dig had the tears Alice had been swallowing down finally fight their way to the surface. She was absolutely mortified. There wasn’t a day she didn’t regret her drunken tryst, if you can even call it that, with Billy. Unfortunately for Alice, not only did he know it, but he found some sickening pleasure in taunting her with the knowledge of how much it bothered her. He’d shown his true colors that awful night at the Byers. Threatening physical harm to literal children, nearly killing Steve. Her stomach turned every time she thought of the genuine terror in Max’s eyes when she heard the revving engine of Billy’s car. As far as Alice was concerned, Billy was a monster. One that was somehow proving to be much harder to get rid of than the actual monsters she’d seen.

Alice could feel the judging stares of her classmates on her. A few hushed giggles and whispers rose above the music, and her face burned with shame. The music and commotion of the gymnasium soon gave way until she could only hear the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. What once felt magical, soon turned almost claustrophobic as the room closed in on her. She could only think of getting out of there.

Seemingly satiated by the few, humiliated tears leaking down Alice’s cheeks, Billy gave her one final arrogant grin and sauntered back into the crowd, pulling his date along with him.

Fists balled at his sides, Steve furiously made his way after the boy, but Alice clutched his arm, pulling him back to her. The fire in his eyes melted as he caught her expression, his attention torn between Billy’s retreating back and the pathetic girl before him.

“Can we get some air?” She sniffled, hastily wiping her face just for new tears to replace the old. He just nodded, jaw clenched.

“Let’s get out of here.” Gripping her hand tightly, Steve wove his way through the throngs of teens toward the exit, pulling Alice along with him. He didn’t let go until they had safely pushed through the double doors in the back of the gym.

Alice hadn’t realized how overheated she was until she was met with the cool, late spring air. Head spinning, she frantically searched the area for a private place to have her breakdown. Small groups of people littered the courtyard and parking lot; couples making out in the shadows, a trio of boys passing a flask back and forth, a gaggle of girls comforting a crying friend.

Steve hot on her heels, Alice settled on a well-hidden spot behind a low brick wall. Deeming it far enough away from prying eyes, she plopped herself on the concrete, buried her face in her hands, (knowing fully well that she was ruining the makeup she’d spent so long perfecting that evening), and let herself truly cry.

What was wrong with her? There was no way the Alice of a year ago would have let a glorified bully get under her skin like Billy had. She did what she could to avoid him, but it was a small school. As if the taunts and snide remarks he threw at her in the halls weren’t enough, just the sight of him brought her back to everything that happened that fall. Everything that Alice was doing her best to put behind her. But there Billy was; a constant reminder of the horror they all had faced. Graduation couldn’t come quick enough if it meant seeing the last of Billy Hargrove.

She felt Steve settle in next to her, his body pressed against hers from shoulder to thigh. Alice was suddenly struck with the memory of that first night when everything had gone to shit, at the hospital after she, Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan had fought the demogorgon. She’d almost broken down then, too. But Steve had been there, offering a light and anchoring her reality. Things had been so different then. She had barely known Steve (or any of them for that matter) as anything other than the douchebag constantly interrupting every class they had together with pointless questions. Now, Alice couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Back then they’d been so sure that the worst of it was over. That the monster was dead; gone for good. How were they to know that the worst was yet to come?

Even now, after once again narrowly escaping death via horror-movie monsters, Alice wasn’t convinced that their otherworldly troubles had come to pass. Hawkins had been so quiet since Eleven closed the gate between their world and the Upside Down. But deep in her bones, she knew it wasn’t over. Alice was sure that the others felt it, even if they didn’t say so. There was a kind of tension, as if they were all just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

But that wasn’t the current issue. For now, at least, Alice could focus on a problem much less deadly and more grounded in the present: fucking Billy Hargrove. Not only did Billy basically physically assault her tonight, he had interrupted the perfect moment between her and Steve.

“I hate him.” She let out a shuddering breath, strategically wiping her face in an attempt to minimize the carnage of her eye-makeup. “Just one fucking night to forget everything and I let him ruin it. He shouldn’t be able to get to me like this. I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Stop that, c’mere.” Steve scooted over, angling himself toward Alice and gathering her in his arms, practically pulling her into his lap. Alice allowed herself this moment of weakness and melted into his side. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she took in deep, steadying breaths; Steve’s familiar scent of aftershave and salty sweat grounding her.“Hargrove’s an asshole, that’s all he’ll ever be. Don’t let him be what you remember from tonight. You had fun, right?”

She nodded, her cheek brushing against the slippery material of his tuxedo jacket.

“Well then, there we go. We’re not going to waste our time on losers like him, okay?”

She nodded again.

“You feel any better?”

“I guess.”

Steve sighed, his breath rustling her hair. Guilt ate at Alice. Billy may have ruined her night, but here she was ruining Steve’s. She couldn’t let that happen. Time to put on a brave face and endure the rest of the night.

“You wanna skip Tammy’s afterparty and just go back to my place? We can forget about stupid prom and…I don’t know…raid my dad’s liquor cabinet, order a pizza, and watch movies all night.”

Alice shook her head, turning so she could properly face him. “No way. As tempting as that sounds, we’ve gotta go. What kind of friend would I be if I made you miss the last good party of high school?”

“We’ve got Sixteen Candles at home.”

“Seriously, Steve. I’m just overreacting. It’s fine, let’s just go and-”

“Splash?”

“-I’m not going to make you miss out on-“

“...Annie?”

That made her give pause. An offering of Annie from Steve didn’t come lightly. Alice had made him watch her favorite movie about a half-dozen times since they started having regular movie nights. She’d been extremely hesitant to bring it up for the first time, knowing the musical wasn’t quite Steve’s speed, but she’d been having a particularly rough week and needed the comforting wholesomeness of Little Orphan Annie. And Alice was right; Steve hated it. But since then, any time Steve noticed her getting more stressed out or upset than usual, he’d put on a brave face and pop in the well-worn VHS without complaint. Alice liked to think he was coming around to it.

“Are you sure?”

“There’s quite literally nothing I’d rather do, Al.”

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington/original character #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington/oc #Steve harrington/ original female character #Steve harrington/ofc #Steve harrington x ofc #Steve harrington x original female character

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 1 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: mentions of grief and death

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Canterbury Bell Means ‘Acknowledging’

Alex ran a hand through his hair as he thought of who to call. Philip’s teacher had just called that today school would be canceled due to a mishap yesterday, but his usual babysitter wasn’t available on such short notice.

Maria and Eliza would usually be up to babysit, but they were away on their honeymoon, Angelica worked with him, so she was out, Laf was in France and Herc had that fashion show. He cursed, then looked at Philip to check if he’d heard.

Philip was oblivious. The five-year-old was happily munching on soggy cereal as he watched some kids show.

He was a well behaved sweet child.

Alex smiled and watched his son. It ached how much he looked like John with his freckles and little curls and in moments like these he wished the other was still there, so he wouldn’t have to deal with everything on his own.

“What are we doing today, Papa?” Philip asked.

“I’m going to work, do you want to come with me?” Alex made up his mind, he was sure Washington wouldn’t mind seeing Philip again and he knew Philip would be on his best behavior in the office.

“Yeah!” Philip cheered happily, starting to munch on his food slightly faster.

Alex chuckled at the sight, before sending Angelica a message of why he would be slightly late and who he would have with him.

Then it was bustling through getting the sock on the right foot and the shoes on, making sure Philip’s jacket was on correctly and his shirt not inside out, before almost forgetting his keys as they made their way out the door.

It was the first time since John’s death that Alex was late to work. It was only a few minutes, but it was more noticeable since he was usually way too early.

With Philip on his hip he rushed to his office where an email informed him that the meeting of the afternoon was rescheduled for now, but he could still make it if he hurried.

“Should we go see Grandpa George? Would you like that buddy?” he asked Philip.

He grinned as the boy’s eyes lit up and he bounced so much, he almost fell out of Alex’s arms as he chuckled: “Okay, okay, let’s go.”

Alex opened the door with an apologetic grin as he said: “I’m sorry, the morning was a bit hectic, I just got in.”

Philip wiggled out of his arms and ran to Washington, who caught the boy easily as he assured Alex: “It’s alright, son. Angelica told me already.”

With a sigh of relief Alex set his stuff down, not even bothering to correct Washington about the moniker, before calling Philip over to him and explaining: “I have to do boring work now, but I have some paper and pencils for you, so that you can color. Does that sound fun, Pip? Will you tell me if you need to pee?”

“Yes, Papa,” Philip promised, taking the coloring materials and settling down in Alex’s lap peacefully.

The love he had of drawing was something he shared with his Daddy and Alex always choked up slightly when he saw that concentrated face and the pencil. He was quickly distracted, however, by a certain Virginian saying something stupid and he mostly forgot about Philip in his lap as the meeting progressed.

About an hour into the meeting, Philip pulled on Alex’s jacket and whispered: “Papa, I have to go pee.”

Alex cut himself off mid sentence and smiled down at the boy: “I’m sure, Grandpa George wouldn’t mind if we take a small break to go pee. You hungry, Pip?”

“A bit,” Philip confessed.

“Well, then it’s a good thing, I have a little snack for you,” he said, as he got up, putting Philip down on his two feet as he took his hand, “Come on, buddy.”

Philip followed his Papa contently as Washington cleared his throat: “I think we can all do with a break, gentlemen.”

Thomas frowned. He already thought it quite irresponsible to bring a kid to work, but he supposed the reason must be good enough if Angelica agreed, however stopping a meeting right as they were getting somewhere was annoying.

The kid was cute though. Thomas had no clue who the mother was. Hell, he hadn’t even known Alex was married, or divorced with how he was married to his work.

Also, Grandpa George? Talk about nepotism.

He blinked as Alex got back with Philip. The kid seemed less fidgety and was eating a granola bar with little chocolate chips in it as Alex smiled down gently, not at all like normally. Though, Thomas supposed, he only got to see Alex when the other was yelling or presenting.

It was strange to see Alex so domestic. He had often pictured the other like that, but now it was even easier to picture him – sadly – with a faceless woman, which send a pang through Thomas. It was pathetic how he was crushing on an already taken coworker who hated him.

Though Thomas would never act on those feelings, so it shouldn’t – didn’t – even hurt... that much.

After Martha, he just didn’t know if he could move on like that, but he could allow himself to watch, to torture himself with what he never had or will have.

The rest of the meeting went smoothly with everyone pretending they didn’t notice the small boy crawling under the big table with play cars as he made soft ‘vroom vroom’-noises.

When everyone was leaving Alex squatted and called out: “Hey, Pip, you having fun there?”

“Yes, Papa,” the little voice called back.

“That’s great, buddy,” Alex smiled, “Would you mind moving? We need to go back to my office now, but you can keep playing.”

“But then my cars can’t go to their base under the chair and they need to, because the evil monkeys are after them and they have to go back to defend it,” Philip explained.

Alex listened closely and nodded: “Seems like they’re hardworking cars, Pip. Remember when I was working hard and then we went on a vacation to that cottage in the forest?”

That was a lie, sort of. He had been throwing himself into work because John’s death date had been coming up and Angelica had forced him to take a vacation, sadly backed up by Washington, though Alex had to admit it had been for the better.

“Yes?” Philip was obviously confused about the question.

“Maybe your cars also deserve a vacation,” he said, “They can go on vacation in my office and take a rest from fighting the evil monkeys.”

“Ooh, yes,” the little boy exclaimed as he made his way to his father, who double checked if all their stuff was with them.

When he turned to the door, he was surprised to find Thomas there, soft smile on his face as he waited. Thomas noticed and held up the keys: “It’s my turn to lock up.”

“Ah, well, thank you for waiting,” Alex said awkwardly.

“I didn’t know you had a kid,” Thomas started, trying to fill the strange silence.

“I’m not much of a family talker, but Philip is my pride and joy,” Alex told him, “He’s very smart, isn’tthat right, Pip?”

“Yes, my teacher says I’m very good, one of the bestest in class and I can already write my name. I also draw very good already,” Philip bragged, “And Papa always says I will blow eeeveryone away.”

“Oh, wow, kiddo, that’s pretty good,” Thomas humored the kid, charmed by his smile and excited gestures as he talked, kind of like Alex in a way.

“Well, bye Hamilton.”

“Ah, yes, bye Jefferson.”

They awkwardly went their separate ways, not used to the fact that one of them wasn’t stomping away angrily while the other yelled at them.

Alex shook his head, he felt weird with Thomas being nice to him. He had smiled at Philip and it was genuine, not his normal ‘I’m better than you’- smirk that made Alex want to punch him. It looked good on him and Alex hated how good it looked on him.

Sure, he’s always known Thomas was attractive, but he had a soft spot for people who were good with kids and it didn’t help the stupid feelings he thought he’d suppressed well enough. God, the other man hated him, what was he even thinking?

He tried to let go of the thought as he set Philip down with all the stuff to keep him occupied as he got to work, hoping to get his proposal for the financial planning of the company done.

Philip reminded him to eat lunch, because he was hungry and he went to Angelica, because Philip wanted to see Auntie Angie. For Philip he would do anything, the little boy had him wrapped around his finger.

Angelica was more than happy to eat lunch with them and humored Philip when she listened to his explanation of his car story line until he got distracted by the coloring place mats they had at the restaurant.

Then she turned to Alex and asked: “How are you?”

“I’m doing good, Angie, really. This is not me not taking care of either of us, I swear,” he said, already knowing why she was asking and slightly annoyed, “The school canceled last minute and the babysitter couldn't come and everyone else was busy.”

“Just checking, ‘Lex. We know how hard it’s been since John passed, we just worry,” she soothed his ruffled feathers.

Alex sighed: “I know, I know. I still miss him, but it’s getting better.”

“How much better? Not to be rude, ‘Lex, but you’re wound up. You need to get laid,” she said bluntly.

“Angie!” he exclaimed, glancing at Philip, “There are children here.”

“Yes, and he’s been too focused on his drawing for the past five minutes to pay attention to us,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’m assuming that’s a no to the getting laid.”

“I’m too old for casual hook-ups, Angelica,” he told her, “If I’m going back into dating, I’m going to look for something serious. But no one is looking for a widower in his thirties with a five-year-old kid. And I can’t commit to someone who isn’t going to commit to Pip. He doesn’t need that.”

Angelica nodded: “You’re right, just try not to turn into a sad lonely old man.”

“Like you’re becoming a lonely old woman?” he teased.

“Alexander!” she swatted him lightly.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you’re as radiant as ever, a beacon of beauty and youth,” he retracted his statement with a grin.

“That’s better,” she grinned back.

“Papa, I finished my drawing,” Philip interrupted the two adults, almost spilling his drink when he proudly held up his place mat.

Alex smiled: “That’s beautiful, Pip. Want to take it home tonight?”

“Oh, can I?” the boy asked.

“Of course, buddy,” Alex ruffled his hair, carefully putting the drawing in his briefcase with his other papers, so that he could hang it on the art wall.

They returned to the office and said their goodbyes to Angelica, before Alex got back to work.

It was quiet for a while, then Philip said: “Papa, I’m bored, can I walk around? I can go to Auntie Angie? I promise not to dis- dis- bother other people.”

“Disturb?” Alex asked.

Philip nodded that it was the right word, then asked: “Please, Papa. I promise I’ll be good. I know where Auntie Angie is and if I can’t find you I’ll go to Grandpa George after.”

The boy put on his best puppy eyes, which he had inherited from John, and Alex had never managed to say no to those eyes, so he relented: “Be back in an hour okay? That’s when that big arm is at the four, alright? Be sure to tell Auntie Angie.”

“Alright, Papa!” the boy said, already bouncing out his office with the pent up energy of a small child who had sat for nearly the entire day.

Alex smiled and watched him go. He contemplated getting up to check if Philip made it down the hall alright, but stopped himself.

A memory flashed through his minds eye of John holding a baby Philip and smirking: “You can’t always be there, ‘Lexi. You gotta let him be his own man at some point.”

“But he’s a baby,” he had protested at the time.

John had leaned forwards and kissed his nose: “But he won’t be forever, he’s gotta grow up just like you did. Ain’t nothing wrong with a bit of independence, sweetheart. Letting go is good at some point, just start small.”

He could let go.

Walking down the hall of the office to an adult he knew wasn’t the ultimate danger Philip would face, this was good. A small start just like John had said.

So, with reluctance he focused back on his work and easily got into the zone again as he did. It was easy to loose himself into his work. He was sure that if Philip hadn’t been there, he would have worked himself to death.

Meanwhile Philip walked down the hall, skipping and jumping just because he could and wanted to. He was really planning on visiting Auntie Angie, but he’d already seen her at lunch, so when he saw something more interesting, he stopped.

It was the Mister from before, Jeff- something, it was a long name and Philip hadn’t been paying attention, though he recalled it being a familiar name. He felt bad now, the man had seemed impressed with him.

Maybe he would want to play with him? But he’d promised Papa not to disturb the other people.

Apparently he’d been standing in the man’s doorway long enough for him to notice and ask him if he needed anything and where his Papa was.

“Papa said I could go walk around a bit,” he told the man, “My cars are on vacation and it’s a bit boring and I don’t feel like coloring. Do you like cats, Mister?”

It seemed the man was startled by his sudden change of topic, but he smiled easily and said: “You can call me Thomas.”

“Okay, Mr. Thomas,” Philip nodded, “Do you like cats?”

With Mr. Thomas not actively telling him to go away, Philip decided it was safe to enter the office and Mr. Thomas just pointed at a chair for him to sit in, so he did. He looked at Mr. Thomas awaiting his answer.

“Sure,” he said, “Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Philip shrugged: “Uncle Laf calls Papa petit lion and Uncle Herc explained to me that it’s a type of cat. Auntie Eliza and Auntie Maria wanteda cat, but Auntie Angie is allergic to them, so she doesn’t agree. But Grandpa George and Grandma Martha have cat, though Papa doesn’t like him very much, even though he likes other cats. So I wondered what you thought about cats.”

“Well, I think cats are nice,” Mr. Thomas said.

“Do have a cat?” Philip asked.

Thomas gave up any pretense of work, he hadn’t wanted to do anything anyway and the kid was way more interesting. He shook his head: “No, my friend, Jemmy, is allergic too and I like having him come to the house.”

“Can’t do that if there’s a cat,” Philip said, nodding his head sagely as if he had all the wisdom in the world.

“Yeah,” Thomas laughed at the display, then said: “I don’t know if sitting in my office is going to be very entertaining, kiddo. I don’t really have toys lying around.”

“That’s alright,” Philip said, “You’re Jeff-” he hummed trying to find the name, “Jefferson?” he suddenly remembered, but he didn’t sound very certain.

Thomas nodded: “Yeah, Thomas Jefferson. Why?”

“Papa talks about you lots,” Philip confided in him, recalling why the name was familiar, “He says you’re a meanie, but I think you’re nice, Mr. Thomas. I think Papa does too, he just don’t wanna say it. He says you’re smart, he only says that about Auntie Angie.”

God, the secrets this kid had from Alex ranting at him would be enormous, but Thomas wasn’t going to interrogate a kid about what his father thought of him. A small part of him, however, preened slightly at the indirect compliment from Hamilton.

He pushed the thought down, the man was married and had kids.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Me and your Papa are,” he hesitated, how do you tell a kid that the most talking you do with his father is yelling insults at each other, “We’re not the best buddies,” he finished lamely.

“That’s sad, I think you and Papa would get along greatly. I like you and Papa says I have good taste,” the kid sounded proud of that and Thomas couldn't help but smile, “I think you have good taste too, Mr. Thomas.”

“Really?” Thomas asked curiously.

“Yes, I like your flowers,” Philip pointed to the vase Thomas had filled on a whim, because he’d been sad a few days ago.

“Thanks, kiddo. They’re Canterburybells,” he said, then had a bright idea, “Hey, since you and I have such fantastic taste, why don’t you help me pick out the colors for my presentation? Then I can read you a story if you’d like. I got books.”

Philip lit up and bounced to the other side of the desk, already telling Thomas loudly about which colors were the bestest.

In the end the presentation was yellow and magenta (Thomas was going to have a field day with that) with neon green letters. It was disgusting to look at and Thomas knew he was going to keep and treasure it, especially because Alex couldn’t say anything of it.

He had mostly stuffy old literature on his shelves in the office, but there was also a fairy tale book for when he needed to calm down, not that anyone knew about that, and he read Philip the tale of Hansel and Gretel.

When they were done Philip asked for the time, saying: “Papa told me to be back in an hour, when the big arm was on the four.”

Thomas checked the time, it was five to four. He turned back to Philip: “Well, then young man, you must be going. Here, I’ll accompany you.”

The five-year-old didn’t seem to mind him tagging along as they walked down the hall to Hamilton’s office.

What Thomas hadn’t expected was for the office to be empty. The laptop wasn’t there and only papers and empty mugs scattered the desk. Thomas quickly glanced down to Philip, who looked confused as he asked: “Where’s Papa?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Thomas told him honestly, he spotted a phone on the desk and mentally cursed, if Hamilton had forgotten his kid and phone he was going to scream. Though it was highly unlikely the man would leave that early.

Then he spotted a note on the desk: Angie or Washington, I don’t know which one of you Pip will look for. I got called by fucking Lee for an emergency (I doubt it actually is, but you know how he gets, the prick). I’ll be back before five, please just watch him for me. I’m so sorry.

Relief coursed through Thomas’s veins that Alex had at least been responsible enough to leave a note.

He turned to Philip: “Hey, the note says your Papa has been called away for a bit.”

“Oh, okay,” Philip replied, “What do I do?”

Philip really was a smart kid, probably got it from his dad. Thomas smiled: “I don’t mind hanging out with you for a little bit longer, but maybe I could call your mom?”

It was an acceptable time to be done with work earlyand Thomas knew Lee was as much of a prick as Alex’s note had claimed, and the man hated Alex. Ifhe could keep him busy, he would, just because it would piss Alex off.

“I don’t have a mom,” Philip told him.

Thomas knew Alex was bi of course, but with the kid he’d made the assumption. He quickly adapted and said: “Do you have a dad then?”

Philip nodded and Thomas was about to ask if he knew how to contact him, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy, when the kid said: “But Papa said I can’t see Daddy, because he’s living with the angels now.”

Oh fuck, Thomas had not seen this coming and he was floundering.

“According to Papa, he didn’t mean to go, but he can’t get back to us. We visit his special place sometimes,” Philip was oblivious to all the emotions Thomas was experiencing, “There are a lot of stones there, but we always go to one with Daddy’s picture on it and Papa cries.”

That was probably much more than Alex wanted him to know. He briefly thought of Martha and how they’d never had kids. He didn’t know how he would have explained her death to them if they had.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” he said instead, “Must be hard with one parent, though it seems your Papa loves you very much.”

“He does,” Philip smiled widely, “He takes me to the park on Saturdays and we run around. He teaches me about all sorts of stuff, like dinos. Do you know about dinos, Mr. Thomas?”

Thomas was glad for the change of topic and nodded: “I’ve heard of them, but I don’t know much. Why don’t you tell me more about them?”

“Well, they come from eggs. I did too, did you know? Papa said he froze eggs and I came crawling out, just like a dino,” Philip told him excitedly. Thomas was confused about what on earth that could mean, but just nodded along to the kid’s babbling.

An hour later Alex stomped into his office, grumbling under his breath about what an asshat Lee was.

He stopped at the empty office, he knew Philip must be with Angelica or Washington, but with the note still there, he didn’t know which one. He went back into the hallway and saw Washington walk by. Stopping the man he said: “Perfect timing. Is Pip with you? I got called away and told him to find you or Angie.”

“No, son, he must be with Miss Schuyler,” Washington smiled, “How was it with Lee?”

“Sir, if you don’t want a verbal essay, I suggest you don’t ask,” Alex sighed tiredly. He just wanted to go home and sleep.

Washington chuckled then stepped into his office as Alex made his way over to Angelica’s office, he knocked on her door and opened it with a: “Hi, Angie, I’ll take Philip now, thanks for watching him.”

Angelica looked up from her work with confusion: “Philip? I haven’t seen Philip since lunch, Alex. What are you talking about.”

The blood in his veins turned to ice as he said: “But, he was going to you. He said he wanted to say hi. He’d be back by four, but I got called away. I left you a note. Are you sure you didn’t see him?”

“No, I wouldn’t lie about that,” Angelica said, “Why didn’t you walk with him?”

Alex was already beating himself up over it: “Fuck, I’m so stupid. I thought he would be fine, that I should let him go, be independent. I’m a terrible father and now something might have happened to Pip. God, what if he’s dead?”

“Hey, none of that, calm down, just breathe,” Angelica put her hand on his shoulder, “He probably got distracted. He’s still around, I’m sure. Someone else must have seen him.”

They got distracted by a southern voice floating down the hall: “Hamilton, there you are. I was wondering if I should start charging hours.”

“Papa!” Philip yelled excitedly, running up to his Papa, who crushed him into a tight hug with a sigh of relief.

“There you are. Pip, I was so worried. You said you were going to Auntie Angie,” he scolded the boy, “Don’t scare me like that again. I thought something had happened.”

“Sorry, Papa,” Philip sounded genuinely upset.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Papa didn’t mean to make you upset, I was just worried,” after soothing his son, he turned to Thomas and glared, “Do you often kidnap children?”

Thomas looked up shocked and in an offend voice replied: “Excuse you? I didn’t kidnap him. He showed up to my office telling me he was allowed to walk around. He asked me about cats and I just made sure he was okay. You should be thanking me, it could have gone a lot worse.”

Alex eyed him suspiciously, but was distracted by Philip: “He’s right, he listened to me back at the room with the table and I was just wondering what he thought of cats, then he let me help with his presentation and read me a story and then I told him about the dinos.”

“I know we have our disagreements, Hamilton, but I’m not going to be an as- meanie to a kid,” he said.

“Nice save,” Angelica smirked.

“Oh shove off, Angelica,” Thomas rolled his eyes good-naturedly, he liked the eldest Schuyler. He had met her a long time ago, back when Martha was still there.

Alex checked over Philip one more time, before begrudgingly acknowledging that Thomas had done him a favor. So, he said: “Thank you, Jefferson. For making sure Pip was alright.”

“No worries, man. I have a lot of siblings,” Thomas shrugged.

Angelica looked between them and smirked, before saying: “Here, I’ll go grab your stuff, ‘Lex. You and Thomas make sure you’re on the same page about this. I don’t want to have you screaming because of a misunderstanding, you do it enough without them.”

Philip walked off happily with his Auntie Angie, leaving Alex and Thomas on their own.

“Did he behave well?” Alex asked, breaking the silence.

Thomas looked confused for a moment, then smirked: “Yeah, he’s a sweet boy. Certainly didn’t get that from you.”

Alex chuckled: “No, he got every good bone in his body from John,” his smile was far away and soft, before he shookhimself out of it, “I’m glad you listened to him, he’s a good kid.”

“No problem, really,” Thomas shrugged.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Can I ask why he thinks he crawled out of an egg like a dinosaur?” Thomas asked, unable to help himself. He was just too curious and it was weird for a kid to think that. He just wanted to know what an earth Alex had told the boy.

The random question startled Alex, who laughed after a second. He explained: “Kids at school were asking how he could have two dads, so I told them that I froze some of my eggs and his other Daddy made sure they would work, before Auntie Eliza hatched him. I compared it to dinosaurs because he understands them and thinks they’re cool. I guess he only picked up some parts.”

“So, he’s not related to the Schuyler's?” Thomas asked, then elaborated, “Just with the whole Auntie Angie and Auntie Eliza he was talking about, I assumed his other parent was one of their sibling hoard.”

“No,” Alex said, “He’s completely mine and Johns.”

It was quiet for a beat, then Thomas said: “I didn’t know you were trans.”

Alex shrugged: “It’s not really something I tell people, especially with how they start calling me a mother, no thanks. Besides, it’s none of their business anyway. Philip is mine and they can keep their opinions of my parenting to themselves.”

Thomas nodded: “That makes sense. For what it’s worth, you’re a great dad. Philip is lucky to have you. I know you didn’t want me to know, probably, but he told me his other dad was living with angels. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I don’t need your pity,” Alex bit out after a hard swallow. He didn’t need Thomas treating him differently just because his husband was dead, he got that enough as it was. He missed John dearly, but he was healing and the special treatment just made it harder.

He was surprised by Thomas’s reply: “I’m not pitying you, Alex. I just wanted you to know that he told me and that you can talk to me.”

“That’s-” Alex hesitated, slightly confused, “That’s… nice? I suppose. But you’re not really my first confidant.”

“I know,” Thomas shrugged, he seemed to be preparing himself for something, “I just know how some people don’t get it and it can be annoying, so if you ever just wanna talk, please do,” he pulled out a necklace from his shirt, on it were two golden bands, “I’m not messing with you, or pitying you.”

“I didn’t know,” Alex mumbled, feeling a bit sheepish for his earlier reaction, “How- How long ago?”

“Seven years,” Thomas answered, “Martha- she was the best, but she had heart problems. I knew we didn’t have long, but it still hurt. She was just too young.”

There were tears in his eyes and Alex could feel himself tearing up as well. He said: “The better ones always die first somehow, fuck. John- John died four years ago. Wanted to do one last tour, before settling down. They were already retreating when-”

He couldn't finish the sentence, but Thomas understood. It was weird how much it made sense that Thomas understood.

They’d always been each others equal. Both in debate and passion. They knew how to push the other and got why. They were the same, just different, so of course Thomas of all people would understand.

Both stood there in silence, tears still in their eyes, but content to just stand there.

At that point Angelica came back with Philip. She was about to start a sentence when she saw the state they were in: “Jesus, are you two alright? I swear, I leave you for a few minutes and-”

“We’re fine, Angie,” Alex quickly wiped away his tears and attempted a smile.

Philip ran up to him and with his arms demanded to be carried. When Alex obliged he asked: “Are you okay, Papa?”

“Yeah, Pip, Papa’s fine,” Alex assured him, “Remember how I told you about the missing sad. It was that.”

“Like when I can’t see Sockie at school and I miss him, right?” Philip asked.

“Exactly that, Pip,” Alex agreed, “Now, what do you say about going home, buddy? Does that sound alright? We can watch Moana.”

“I love Moana!” Philip chirped.

Alex turned to Angelica and Thomas and said: “We’re gonna go. Uhm, thank you both and, uh, I might take you up on that, Thomas. Now say bye, Pip.”

“Bye Auntie Angie, bye Mr. Thomas,” Philip said with a wave, a quick yawn escaping him after all the excitement as he burrowed closer into his Papa’s arms while they walked out of the building.

When they were gone, Angelica turned to Thomas with a raised brow: “So, Mr. Thomas,” she put extra emphasis on the name, “You’ve got yourself a social upgrade.”

“Shut up, I should have never told you about that stupid crush,” Thomas hid his head in his hands.

“I think you two would be cute together,” Angelica said, then she asked: “Why were you two crying, by the way? Are you okay?”

He put the necklace back and said: “I told him about Martha, seemed fair after the kid told me about John. I didn’t know Alex was a widower, nor that he had kids.”

“Yeah, ‘Lex used to love bragging about John and Philip, but ever since-” she sighed, “Well, you know. He hasn’t been the same.”

“I don’t think anyone can stay the same after living through that,” Thomas told her, “I was always saddened I had no kids with Martha, but after today. Fuck, I don’t know what I would have told them. I don’t think I could have handled it.”

Angelica shrugged: “It’s different for everyone, I think Philip saved ‘Lex’s life. He got up each day to care for him. Don’t tell him I told you that, I will slap you again.”

“I won’t, I swear,” Thomas held his hands up in surrender and luckily Angelica believed him, because she smiled: “Good, I know where you live.”

“You are terrifying,” he informed her.

“That’s why we’re such good friends,” she merely smiled, “Now, let’s go, you still owe me dinner for giving you private time with Papa Alex.”

Thomas flushed a bright red and told her he hated her, before following her out of the building as she cackled at his misery.

After that things went back to normal.

Mostly.

Somewhere he had imagined the interaction would be some revelation or something and the next day would be completely different.

But it just wasn’t.

They had a meeting in the morning, it was the first time they saw each other that day and within minutes it had turned into an argument.

Though, perhaps the arguments had gotten less personal. They had always thrown in slight digs at the other, believing themselves to know the man before them and judging the person they’d built in their mind, but when that fell away, it was hard to make digs at someone who understood.

So work returned to normal, with arguments echoing through the halls, which were now followed by civil conversation as they walked to their offices.

It was only a month later that it changed.

You know, this fic is getting much bigger than expected and has gotten severely out of hand. It was meant to be a cute Philip at work fic, but then I thought about past John/Alex (and not fucking Eliza over bc I love her too much for it) and now it hasturnedinto a gigantic angst pile turning fluffwith a slow burn thrown in there, something I have never written before, but I’m having fun.

#RR writing #Hamilton #alexander hamilton #philip hamilton #thomas jefferson #jamilton #Hamilton AU #angelica schuyler #george washington #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part AU #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 1

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solange-lol · 4 years

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hiii in celebration of AUctober, what are some of your fav solangelo AUs?

Anonymous said to solange-lol:

Hi! Kinda a random question: do you have any favorite riordanverse fanfics that you’d suggest reading? I’m looking for ones to read, but I’ve been having trouble finding new ones! Thanks!

rec list #1 | rec list #2

all recs can be found under the tag ‘lizs solangelo fic recs’ on my blog!

technically its past auctober now, but better late then never to drop my third solangelo rec list!! especially considering the state of the world rn ... lets just say its a celebration of me actually participating in sw for the first time in a while

rec under cut as always!! its not all aus but its the count that thots

Find Another Place to Stay by @unwieldyink

personally i think breakup fics are incredibly underrated, and i also think annie is incredibly underrated, so enjoy ur little cry if you read this one (tw // violence in this one)

Hershey’s kiss by @unwieldyink

we love a godswap!! it’s actually been a while since ive read this one and i reread this while making this rec list and can i just say that zeus!nico and hermes!will are both such valid concepts and this just has a rly good dynamic to it

Actors by @buoyantsaturn

i could talk about this fic for hours but lets just say ao3 has told me ive visted this fic 40 times. im not kidding. fake dating is just a godtier trope

start of something new by jinniefic

if you know me, you know that i fricken LOVE high school musical, and this is literally just the start of the first movie but solangelo and honestly a little more iconic please read even if ur not a hsm fan

paper/plastic by @rosyredlipstick

the fact that this is from 2018 and took this long to get into my rec list is tragic because i think about this fic a lot... a lot. mortal au. very chill, strangers to lovers, very good vibes, will be rereading soon (everything rosy writes is amazing we already knew this)

10:37pm by @buoyantsaturn

surprise another cj fic! fun fact she debated with us for a good half hour about what to title this fic so go read it so you can tell her you like the name (and the fic itself... its a very good fic) (tw // alchohol and drug use for this one)

Sunflower by ChiseHatori

3 days in the infirmary is probably the easiest trope u can find in the solangelo tag but i have to say this one really made me soft just bc it feels a lot more in character than some of the others ive read, and it basically picks up right where they ended in the books

Will You, or Will You Not? by @thebluesideofmyworld

marriage fics... also very soft. just boys bein boys. dual engagements. mortal au. all that good stuff vv soft i loved it

let your heart win by @justanothervampiregirl

this one is short but its also probably one of the most in character fics ive ever read and i really like this style of writing mixed with canon compliance so :)

The Magic of Naomi Solace by Sweetymomo

naomi solace, underratted legend. i aspire to have her relationship with will. lots of familial background if you like that!! and its set at a bnb!!

forget all the shooting stars and silver moons by itotallyreadthatbook

when i saw this in the tag i was SO excited bc we love high school aus here and it was!! very good indeed!! this trope is one ive never seen before and i recommend 10/10 good banter

They won’t always live by Phantomxlegend

will overworking himself and coping with loss always makes me :(( so if ur okay with some will angst then buckle up

“I am fully capable of kicking your ass” by @unwieldyink

i remember i saw the email notification for this one and immediately was like yup absolutely im in and it 100% lives up to its title we love capture the flag solangelo

the night we met by peachyytomlinson

a lil ooc but also very angsty and did make me emotional when i read this late at night. i think i wrote something similar a while back but i just aaaaa will angst man

“look how hard i can cry FWSHHH” by @buoyantsaturn

call me biased bc i like to claim that i originated the idea of demeter!will and cj dedicated this fic to me but like BRO its so soft and i love it here nico leave the plants along challenge failed

femboy hooters, or the time percy jackson failed to keep a secret by luciethebean

its all fun and games until the fic turns out to genuinely be really good. like, yes the title is exactly what you think it is but it doesnt matter bc its so fricken well written im^@*#&(*)($_$#&^@$(@*)* yeah

Of Ties and Significant Annoyances by seokjinvilla (@thechampagnecocainegasoline)

we dont support jkr in this household but what we do support is this bc this plot is genius and i love it

everything’s going swimmingly by tsunamiroll (@catboy-ethan)

fun fact i posed the idea of a sports/team prompt to the sw mod crew literally just so someone would pull through and write a swim au and ethan DID without even knowing. i love them and their writing style is so !!!! please read it

when you smile (the whole world stops) by tsunamiroll (@catboy-ethan)

another ethan fic!! this is the perfect fic for a rough day where u just want some cuddles bc thats literally the plot of the fic. i love this one with my entire heart its very fluffy 10/10 do reccomend

pumpkin spice (i hate it, it's not nice) (ok maybe it's a little nice) by tsunamiroll (@catboy-ethan)

ethan fic part 3!! bc i binge read these all in one night!! literally again their writing style is so amazing and the witty banter!!!! also we love a retail bookstore au

Burnt Plastic (and Other Bad Ideas) by More_of_This

so this one isnt exactly romantically solangelo but it is hilarious in my opinion and i absolutely adore well written college aus and while i know nothing about college this fic is so funny to me (if you read the tags there is, in fact, a raccoon involved) (tw // drinking for this one)

all because you kissed me goodnight by @buoyantsaturn

i have been WAITING for a mortal counselors au and im sure theres some out there already but y’all already know im a cj stan! lots of slowburn, friends to lovers, coworkers, all the good stuff (and i named this one and offered cj a lot of materials from my own camp so this one especially hits!! i reccomend for those good ol summer vibes!!) (tw // drinking for this one)

Waiting With You by @buoyantsaturn

oh boy buckle up if u want an angst ride because this fic tore me apart. i keep threatning cj with “dont pull another waiting with you”. that being said, very much feels like a movie while youre reading it, very fluffy in the middle, we love mutual pining.

Little Italian Boy by @buoyantsaturn

stream little italian boy by grace gilmore. youll get it. thats it.

The Clues by @thebluesideofmyworld

secret dating when done well is legit one of my favorite tropes of all time and this!!! this!!!!!!!!! its outsiders perspective also which is another one of my favorite tropes, and just little views on nicos life and i love it

So Come On, Talk it Out (your voice brought me back from the dead) by @buoyantsaturn

will solace, sponsered by kitkats, cj edition

no but if you read tower of nero you’ll really like this missing pieces pre-ton fic this is a really soft little fic with a bunch of easter eggs from the book in it, so i highly recommend! if you havent read ton yet and are still avoiding spoilers, come back to this one!

reaching for the sun (you, you, you) by moonswords (@tortadelimao)

i just read this one about 2 hours ago for the first time and i am Still thinking about it. its like the getting together that i literally feel like is canon and the vibes are Immaculate (also william “what about me looks straight” solace)

“Are we on a date right now?” by @unwieldyink

overworked will, nico helping out in the infirmary, first dates & hikes, canon compliant, we love to see it (also its an annie fic so ur required by law to read it)

Outrunning karma by Phantomxlgend

more will angst! featuring angry overworked will!

Everlasting Ring by minyoongurt (@blueblackslowtown)

i was Very excited when i read the summary of this one, and i think minyoongurt did a really good job!! healer will, injured nico, the whole dynamic. also i love the idea of nico only knowing “thank you” “go away” and “fuck you” in sign language. im pretty sure thats canon

The Little Thing by Rainbow_Mess

i belive this is also a pre-toa fic thats just exploring all the stuff we found out about will in ton and its very short and sweet :)

and of course, a few of my recent works for your consideration

who is he (and what is he to you?)

just doing my silly little tasks

i don’t need three bars to tell me we’re meant to connect

truly, madly, deeply

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo #heros of olympus #lizs solangelo fic recs #mine

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kanene-yaaay-o-retorno · 4 years

Text

The boy on the farthest table

Kanene’s Notes:

So, I’ve been reading all the fluff content with Dadzawa I could find and I am very surprised I didn’t manage to stumble in a Dadzawa running a Cat Café so I thought ‘h e y’ why don’t I make it??? SO here we are!!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* That fanfic has Dadzawa and Yamadad and their relatonship can be seen as romantic, if you wish.

* This happens in the same universe as This Fanfic Here and you can also find it on AO3.

* No warnings this time!! Only fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort.

* This characters do not belongs to me. They all belongs to the amazing the manga/anime Boku no Hero.

* Something around 2.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* Tô com preguiça de postar a versão em português brasileiro aaaa! Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Eat a delicious snack, sleep a bit, take care and drink water and sleep well! Byeioo!~

[~*~]

Aizawa doesn’t really care about his clients more than the strictly necessary amount. He arrived where he is because of the cats and the coffee. If people paid more because he decided to mix both together and open a business with that premise than better for him.

So, yes. Aizawa doesn’t care at all about his clients. Neither held any favorites above the others, don’t matter what Yamada tried to imply with his ‘discrete’ smug eyes and knowing grin as, for the second time today, the black haired worker narrowed his eyes at the boy sitting on the farthest table, lost in his deep thoughts as he stared intently at his notebook just like he has been doing for the past two hours, lazy scribbles fulfilling the lines in a tired, yet determined attempt to keep going.

The owner of the Cat Café didn’t really care about what his clients did as long it didn’t annoy his cats or him.

However, that doesn’t mean he kept himself completely oblivious of what happened at his establishment nor the persons who attended there.

Perhaps he wasn’t the most enthusiastic worker there – that is why him and Hizashi had an unspoken agreement that he would stay firm on his place making drinks and serving pastries, sometimes scaring some insufferable clients away, while the louder, social friend would focus in talking and getting the orders, – but he knew enough to not be a bad one.

He knew that the girl with yellow bright eyes and nuts and bolts shining in between her curls liked strawberry muffins, tended to not be able to stand still for much time, and visited on Fridays, so he always kept one baked sweet hidden for her on these days.

Just like he always recognized that tall, skeleton-like adult as soon as his form crossed the door. A client who came especially for the cats and the Jasmin tea, although always sneaked a couple and more glares to the cat-themed cookies, so he made sure to “accidentally” drop one with the donuts he always asked to go for “- a friend! He loves them but is often very busied with work… So, I thought I could try and treat him a bit after everything he already did to me!” And also, who, in the next day, came back to attempt to pay for the free cookie but was, day after day, defeat by Hizashi’s stubbornness and convincing abilities, leading the loyal client to make sure to put a generous tip on the Tip Jar as a revenge, making sure to stare intently at the pouting worker during the whole process.

Or the young girl with red eyes full of curiosity and a tongue full of questions which him and Yamada took turns to answer, eliciting shy smiles, bright excitement and a glare full of gratitude from her older brother, who used the free time to study while she ate and played with the kittens, sometimes even falling asleep when his two friends – an extremely quiet boy with a gigantic sweet tooth and an electric smiley girl who always convinced the younger one to help her to gather the biggest amount of sleepy cats to nap on the blond teen before he wakes up in the middle of purrs and laughter - accompanied them.

That being said, Aizawa liked to be informed and, above everything else, was good at getting the information he needed. He mastered the skill of analyzing details and understanding situations others used to ignore, making connections and arriving to conclusions that seemed foreign to others, that is why he continued to cast quick frowns and glances to the boy, doesn’t liking at all how his brain continued to run and turn, seeking for any answer or hints of what happened to him, only to get at nowhere. He was, obviously, just trying to assert the situation, which had nothing to do with the fact that the boy – always shining, always with such a bright smile every time he ordered anything – was alone on this Saturday. A not so rare occasion, since even though the café was a common place for him and his friends to meet – an occurrence impossible to ignore due how full of energy and joy and chaos and energy they all were, - he also seemed very keen to spend hours writing and studying on his own.

However, there was something different today. Something to do with how quiet, concentrated, calm, lethargic the teenager was acting the whole time, which worrie- no, intrigued him.

Because Aizawa wasn’t worried. Of course not. That would be illogical and preposterous. He wasn’t anything to the child, not his family, not a friend, not a relative, just the guy who grunted a one-word answer every time the younger tried to make small talk and pretend to not notice him and Hizashi trading cute cat videos and pics during the blonde’s breaks.

Hell, he didn’t even share more words than the necessary with the green haired boy. The longest interaction they ever had was when the younger one came to him on his first time visiting the place and asked for more cat toys, since all the available ones were already being used. Which maybe or maybe not led to Aizawa leaving his friend to deal alone with the orders while he took his time to show and explain the favorite toys of every cat the green boy pointed.

Which was, sure, only a revenge on his boisterous coworker since the aforementioned interrupted his morning nap by tripping on him on his way to the kitchen (and yes, it was Yamada’s fault for not looking at where he’s going and obviously not Shouta’s because he decided to ‘JUST FREAKING PASS OUT ON THE FLOOR. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO SEE IT?’) and, not content with his actions, decided to lock the other out of his own establishment, only letting him come back after lunch and, consequently, at least five hours of sleep, leaving him on the care of Nemuri, who proceeded to tease him unmercifully for the whole length of yesterday.

Consequently, it was only a payback, of course. The gleam on the smaller’s eyes as he took notes on a well worn out notebook and the fact that, on the next Saturday, the boy distributed all the correct toys between his friends and their favorite cats were two completely ignorable things and therefore unrelated with the quick, barely visible smile appearing on the corner of his mouth on the respective day and every time he remembered that occurrence.

But, when a quiet sniff reached his ears, Aizawa almost felt his neck crack with how quickly he turned on the other’s direction, just in time to see the ending of the teenager’s action of wiping a few tears away. The one who definitely didn’t get enough sleep on his entire life to deal with it sensed his left eye twitch.

That. Is. It.

“Shouta…” Hizashi whispered behind the usual smile he plastered for the customer in front of him, nodding while writing down what she said and chipping excitedly for her to just wait a little bit to get her order, deviating his attention to his friend when she moved away to sit in one of the unoccupied tables, both taking the opportunity of having no more customers in the line to held some private words. “Do you want me to go there?” his voice was bathed in worry, because his coworker was emotional like that.

“No.” And Aizawa didn’t know why he was so fast to answer, however he was already washing his hands, mind running, seeking to remember how other people - besides his friends, who were barely humans, - worked. “You know I hate being the cashier.”

“Riight.” His way-too-smug-grin was fast to become a snicker when his friend aimed a kick on his shin, which he promptly dodged. “Hey! I didn’t even say anything!”

“Your thoughts are loud. I will be right back.”

His eyes were focused on the kid, who now was curled on his chair, chin resting on his knees as his arms firmly hugged his legs, making him look even smaller.

Aizawa grunted, part of him feeling inclined to just drop an entire gallon of water on his head to successfully wash all his problems way, or maybe shake all the bad, lying thoughts taking over his mind and resulting in a few tears to escape what, on its turn, made a strong feeling of protectiveness, which was immediately ignored, shines on him. But Shouta knew he couldn’t act on any of those two options because it wasn’t “socially acceptable” – nor very useful, but he ignored that part, - and “problems” and “people” tended to be more complicated to help than that.

The older sighed, kneeling on the spot before the front door where the sun passed through the window and made a perfect warm piece of floor for the big, - extremely big - messy pile of purple fluff lay and nap without a single worry in the world, not even stirring as the customers had to tiptoe around him to get in and out of the establishment.

Shinsou hissed when Shouta first petted him, although was fast to purr louder than a machine as the human began to scratch behind his ears, going back to his peaceful sleep. He was the most calm, chill and snarky cat he has ever seen. His hobbies consisting on getting on the highest shelves to watch the entire place with a judging, tired glare and napping on people’s laps, especially when they were about to head out, which made his customers to order something else and stay for at least more fifteen minutes, not having the heart to interrupt the purple’s sleep.

Needless to say, he and Aizawa got along just fine. Even with the animal’s habit of climbing him to nap on his shoulders and teaching the younger kittens to do the same thing, knowing very well the one with dark hair would never have the heart to put them away, the human knew he sustained a soft spot for him.

Nemuri and Yamada liked to tease him, affirming that Shinsou was his cat form and Shouta would never admit he agreed with them.

He also ignored the implications of that when he remembered Shinsou was one of the green haired bag of energy favorites.

“I have a mission for you.” It was the only mumbled warning the cat had before being carefully scoped on the human’s arms, melting on the embrace, hissing, yawning and then proceeding to melt even further. Shouta huffed, amused.

‘Brat.’

Another signal that the teenager was much more trapped in his mind than the normal was the fact he didn’t realize the adult coming closer, nearly jumping three feet in the air as Aizawa’s command hit him.

“Sit correctly.”

The teenager yelped, looking at him, at himself and then at him again, a strong shade of an ashamed red taking over his features. “O-o-of course, sir! I am sorry!” He bowed, putting his feet on the ground and straightening his back, a slight tremble on his movements making the adult frown.

“Don’t think too much about this.” And before any protest could come out of the other’s mouth, Aizawa laid Shinsou on his legs, leading the boy to freeze completely, eyes locked on the cat, who just blinked lazily at him and started to knead his thighs, low, rumbling purrs escaping, demanding the new human as worthy.

A barely suppressed squeal flew from the younger, who already seemed ready to cry again, although for different reasons.

The cat café’s owner hid his amused smile by catching a kitten who approached with curiosity, petting him and proceeding to flop him on the soft, green curls. Ojiro meowed, purring and immediately attempting to eat his new environment.

“I…” His wide, wobbly smile increased further as Shinsou butted his head on the teenager’s palm, his voice, a whisper, lapsing for a beat. “I love them.”

There was no way for the adult to hide his snort at his words, but the Problem Child seemed unfazed with his reaction, turning to him with shiny eyes and smile.

“Thank you so much, sir!”

After a nod, Aizawa turned away and came back to his spot behind the counter. And if talking and taking orders when Hizashi uses part of his break to “discreetly” take a few pictures of a beaming boy smiling to the camera and pointing the cats on him to send to him later, is much more bearable than before? It has absolutely nothing to do with the young figure on the farthest table sporadically giggling as he plays with an Ojiro who is fiercely convinced he can win the battle against the red laser.

[…]

“Excuse me, Yamada-san. I’m sorry, but my order was 476 yens and you only charged me 200.” Aizawa knew the boy was going to lose the fight the moment Hizashi only grinned and locked the cashier, completely ignoring the two pieces of paper on the other’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it, little listener! Don’t worry! Take this as a thank you for letting Shinsou and Ojiro sleep on you for one hour, okay?”

“B-but sir! It was no problem at all!” The way he moved to prove his point made Aizawa picture a small, energetic bunny. “I really like them and I was going to stay here longer anyway!”

“Now, now, young boy.” Hizashi pointed a finger at him, trying and failing miserably to see or sound at least a tad chastising. “Refusing a ‘thank you’ is a serious offense, I wonder if I will need to give you a free blueberry muffin to go because of that…”

“No!” Aizawa huffed, turning away from them and heading to the tables, taking the opportunity of how low the business was to clean and prepare them for the next customers, stopping right on his tracks, mid step as a wide, pleading glare found his. “Aizawa-san,” he shook the 276 yens at his direction, puppy eyes staring right on his soul, “please.”

The dark-haired one scoffed, looking away from the powerful graze. “Don’t bring me into this. Fight your own battles, problem child.”

Hizashi laughed at the pout he received in response, having pity on the loyal customer. “Okay, okay. I give. You can pay for this.” Aizawa glared at him, one eyebrow up in a non convinced expression. His friend winked, big grins as the younger turned to him, much more smiley. “With a hug.”

Problem child seemed surprised, especially when the flamboyant employee jumped across the counter and stopped in front of him, arms open in an invitation. “Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” His voice was softer. “I can always accept 100 yens if you really want me to, little listener.”

He didn’t understand the magic thing his friend always managed to do. The way he succeeded to dance around someone’s barriers, finding openings and walking through them, asking no permission to get closer yet always attentive when to stop and retreat or to talk about every or anything. The same magic he showed when they were teenagers.

Tsuyu meowed and Aizawa kneeled down to give her attention for as long as the embrace lasted, pretending to not notice the two hugging behind him, the taller lightly swaying them while the younger relaxed, melting on the touch.

A few seconds later the anxious bunny was bowing, thanking them and getting out with a gleam on his face, hugging happily the notebook next to his chest and petting Cloud before going away. Shouta came back to his spot, Yamada followed and the green hair disappeared on the corner.

“We’re not adopting the Problem Child.”

“But he already even has a nickname! Shoutaaa, it’s meant to be! And you’re already soft for him as well, don’t deny it.”

He scoffed. “Shut up. You try to say no to those fucking puppy eyes next time.”

“You fought well,” Hizashi patted his shoulder, his own gaze getting a dangerous, gleaming light. “Dadzawa.”

The rarefied clients distributed across the café jumped when, between laughter and dramatics cries of pain, the blonde fell on the ground, a half pleased, half evil smile presenting itself on the shorter’s face in a flash before his impassive expression took over and he calmly continued with his usual chores, pointedly ignoring the ‘It was so worthy it’ snickered by his friend, still laid on the floor.

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