#I feel like I’m already tip toeing the line by wearing pants dress shoes and a nice button up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nsheetee · 4 years

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One Foot in the Golden Life

Pairing: rich kid!renjun x caddie!reader Genre: rich kid AU, university au, romance, slight angst, mature content Length: 9.7k Summary: this is the story of a boy who is constantly pushed down by his father, a girl who just wants to not live paycheck to paycheck, and how they met on a golf course. Warnings/Details: includes mentions of other NCT members, female reader, swearing, inaccurate depiction of golf, acts of sexual harassment towards the reader, mature content (unprotected sex, coming inside, oral [female receiving])

a/n: a big thank you to @insomni-writing for beta reading this ♡ also, if you are a minor, please beware that there is mature content in this fic!

You thought it would be the perfect opportunity to work at the most well-known country club in the state, but really the only thing your job brought you was perpetual cold to your hands and feet, and entangled your simple life with one of the youngest and richest bachelors at your university.

The only place on top of Mt. Carla is the Augusta Country Club, and it is a sight to see by the regular people who gaze up at it from the city below, like mortals looking up into the Gods’ chamber. The first time you went up the mountain for your job interview at the club, you got lost and were almost late. Thankfully, you didn’t crash your car on the winding roads, and got the job as well.

The Augusta Country Club is equipped with the largest and most expensive golf course in the region, but also has Michilin approved restaurants and the finest saunas and gym equipment any CEO could ask for. Those are usually the type of people that have club memberships: CEO’s, congress men and women, top-notch lawyers, and maybe the odd business owner that made it big enough to afford the price tag.

When you took up the job as a caddie, you had an idea of what you were getting yourself into. You’ve only been working for a month, but there are already a few regular golf players that prefer you as their caddie, which in your book is a success considering the type of high profile people that come to relax here.

However, today is different.

You can sense it when Kara and Mina, your coworkers who have been working here for a year longer than you, walk towards you and your friend, Lia, before your shift today. Mina has a small stack of info cards in her hands and they both hold smug smiles on their faces. The info cards have everything a caddie needs to know about who they’ll be working for that shift, and by the looks of it, today’s game will have a good match up.

“I’m going to be Mr. Huang’s son’s caddie. Don’t even fight me on this, you know I’ll win.” Kara states boldly as the two girls stop in front of you, snatching an info card out of Mina’s hand when she holds them up like she’s playing a card game, flashing the photos and names on the cards at you.

“I call dibs on Mr. Lee’s son.” Mina hums, not even bothering to keep up the act that they just want to be good caddies. “You two can have the old men.” She smiles tightly, shoving the other two info cards into Lia’s grasp and turning on her heel to walk away with Kara.

Considering you don’t even know what they’re talking about, you have no right to be mad at them. There is more confusion clouding your mind than anger at their rudeness. However, Lia does not share the same sentiment.

“I’ll shove these info cards up their-” Lia fumes, her volume rising as the sentence went on, and you quickly pulled her out of ear shot, around a corner by the bathrooms. “-stuck up two faced asses!”

“Lia…” You mutter, her wording making you shake your head at how unstable her temper is, “They’ve been working here for a lot longer than we have, just let them have those clients. Either way, what’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? ___, they’re talking about Lee Jeno and Huang Renjun. I know I told you about them before.” Lia states like she expects you to have those two names tattooed on the front lobe of your brain already.

“I think I remember them…. They go to our University, right?” You try to regurgitate your friend’s rambles from months ago out of your head.

“Yeah, business department.” She sighs dreamily, as if the business department is the sexiest thing on campus. “This might be our only chance to shoot our shot.” You can’t help but grimace a bit.

“It can be your chance to shoot your shot. Leave me out of this.” You randomly grab an info card out of Lia’s hands, turning it around to see Mr. Huang Lijun’s photo staring back at you. You send Lia one last look, walking around her to go change in the dressing rooms.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” You hear her whine, her footsteps echo through the hallway as she comes up behind you. She almost knocks you into the wall from how forcefully she grabs onto your arm and swings it back and forth like you’re two little kids on your way to the playground.

“Maybe we can shoot our shot at the old men?” You and Lia stop walking, turning to face each other for a moment of silence. You blink at each other as if you’re both considering it, before erupting into laughter at the ridiculous thought and continue walking down the hallway.

You and Lia constantly joke around about finding rich sugar daddies at work to pay for your college tuition, but both of you know you’ll never actually commit to the idea fully. Neither of you will admit it, but you both know you don’t have the guts to do something like that.

By the time you, Lia, and your other coworkers change into uniform and gather your supplies for the Lee vs. Huang game, it’s already 10am. The air is crisp and cool, the signs of fall creep along your skin and taint the deep green trees in light oranges and yellows.

Despite the chill, you and your coworkers still wear skirts, long sleeve v-necks, and puffy vests; the only thing keeping your feet warm is a pair of short white socks and tennis shoes. You don’t mind the chill knowing that once the game starts you’ll be moving around enough to get warm. You stop thinking about your cold toes as soon as the door of the country club opens and the Lees and Huangs walk out.

The first time you lay eyes on Huang Renjun, you think your heart might stop.

You know it’s him because he walks close to his father as they make their way to where you’re standing by the golf carts. He has obviously dyed blonde color, his dark roots proof of that; it’s neatly gelled back in an effortless way with the light wind blowing a few of the locks gently as if an angel is personally moving them for him. His white jacket and black pants are slim and look like they cost more than all of your college textbooks this semester. He walks with his head high, his pretty, pink lips set in a straight line, and his almond eyes gentle.

Okay, so... maybe you understand the hype now.

“Good evening, ladies.” Mr. Lee announces, looking at you and your coworkers. You all politely introduce yourself and state who you’ll be caddying for.

Huang Lijun isn’t as tall as his son, but he looks to be more lively than Renjun, even at his age. He has a permanent smile on his lips and you can feel a friendly demeanor radiating from him when you approach.

“Good Morning, sir. Let me take those off of your hands.” You politely grab the bag of clubs from him, feeling shy as his gaze doesn’t leave your face the entire time.

“You’re new here, right? I feel like I would remember you if I saw you before.” You’re surprised when he suddenly pinches your cheek, and he laughs at your shocked face. An unsettled feeling plants itself at the bottom of your stomach at the unwarranted touch.

“I’ve only been working here for a month, sir.”

“I think I’ll be coming around here more often, then.” He winks at you and turns to go sit in the front seat of the golf cart. You can’t help but let the feeling at the bottom of your stomach grow at how the older man looks at you. You definitely misjudged his “friendly” demeanor. Your eyes can’t help but glance at Renjun, who’s standing a few feet away from the whole interaction. He gives you a blank stare before turning and following his father.

In the past few weeks, you had gotten many lustful smiles and lewd gazes at your bare legs, but also many dollars in tips just in one morning by letting those smiles and gazes happen. The need to make ends meet justifies it all, and the cash you earn at the end of every shift only fuels this need.

The ride from the club’s main building to the first hole is short, so you quickly recompose yourself. You still have a job to do— a job you’re being paid lots of money for. You believe in your strong will to put up with whatever antics Mr. Huang pulls for the next few hours. Upon arrival at the first hole, you pull the bag of golf clubs out of the cart and follow in Mr. Huang’s quick footsteps, suddenly feeling sweaty from the exercise you’re getting by carrying these heavy clubs. When your group reaches the first hole, you set the bag down on the ground and press your hand over your face, but Mr. Huang’s voice startles you.

“Woah, there.” You jump and face him. “Those clubs cost more than my car, and unlike my car, they don’t deserve to be on the ground, darling.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize.” You smile shyly and pick up the clubs from the ground, your shoulders already straining to keep them up. ‘They weigh as much as a car,’ you huff.

This is going to be a long game.

“You kids can clean the carts today,” Mina suddenly throws a keychain at Lia’s face, she barely catches it before it hits her, “I have plans.”

“Me, too.” Kara quickly says, following after Mina as they both walk away. The game ended right at lunchtime (the Lees won) and now you and your coworkers are back at the club. It’s supposed to be everyone’s job to clean the golf carts after they’ve been used, but it looks like today it’ll just be you and Lia… Maybe.

“___, please. I’m going to be late to the cafe, my boss there is already mad at me.” Lia turns to you and begs with her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes pleading and feet bouncing. You sigh; you’re hungry and your muscles are sore, and all you want to do is go home as quickly as you can. Still, you roll your eyes and take the golf cart keys from her, making her face crack open into a smile as she hugs you quickly.

“I’ll bring you coffee on Monday!” She screams at you as she practically runs away, leaving you with two golf carts to clean. You sluggishly begin, crawling into the cart the Huangs were sitting in when you find a small notebook laying on one of the seats. Picking it up to examine it, you find out it’s your university’s yearly planner, a book that everyone gets at the beginning of every academic year. Along the binder reads “Huang Renjun” and your eyes widen, immediately looking up to glance at the direction that Renjun walked off to a while ago.

Your legs move quickly through the corridors of the club, moving past changing rooms, saunas, and bathrooms, the planner tightly clutched in your hand. Your head is on a swivel and your lower lip is stuck between your teeth, until you hear a door open and slam shut behind you, making you turn your head to catch Renjun walking out of a changing room.

“Mr. Huang!” You call out.. Renjun freezes at the name, spinning on his heel to see you walking towards him.

“Sorry to disturb you, but you left your planner on the golf cart.” You hold it out for him, but he doesn’t take it.

“How do you know it’s a planner? Did you look through it?” You blink at him, stunned, and then glance down at the notebook. You’re surprised by the sudden questions and at the same time annoyed that Renjun accused you of snooping through his things so quickly. The image you had of him earlier, graceful, classy, and attractive, slips out of your mind as he stares down at you. However, this is the first time he’s directly talking to you, and you can’t help the spark that ignites in your belly from the roughness in his voice. It’s higher-pitched, but unpolished and jagged as he speaks with you.

“No. I go to the same University. I have the same one.” You explain. Renjun’s stare turns into shock.

“Really? Which department?”

“Fine Arts. I study Studio Art.” At first you think that you’re seeing things, but after blinking, you can guarantee that Renjun has jealousy painted on his face. It’s so sour that he looks away, trying to preoccupy his hands by fiddling with his bag. “So, are you going to take this, or…?”

“Yeah,” The bitterness drips from his tone, but you have a feeling it’s not directed at you, “Thank you for returning it.” He finally accepts it and turns to his bag, taking out his wallet. The cards inside look thick and heavy; memberships to places you’ll never step foot in and credit cards with limits you could never even imagine. Your pride tells you that you don’t need anything he could give you, so you silently turn around and walk away.

Renjun shuffles through some crisp 10’s and 20’s, but when he looks up to give you the tip, you’re already down the hallway and halfway out the door. You have golf carts to clean.

The next time you see Renjun is a week after the last game. The chilly weather remains, along with the useless uniform you have to wear, but this time around you’re not Mr. Huang’s caddie, you’re Renjun’s.

Kara walks next to you with Mr. Huang’s heavy golf clubs, her lips straight and head turned away from you to show her annoyance at how the caddie match up situation went this week. You’re sure to get an earful about this for at least the next few days, but you kind of like this revenge that fate dealt Kara. Either way, it’s not like there’s anything you can do about the match up. Renjun requested you to be his caddie this week, and you weren’t going to risk your bosses being angry with you by denying the request.

“Driver.” Renjun’s voice pulls you into the game. You pull out the correct golf club and put it into his awaiting hand, your fingertips brushing with his. “Aren’t you cold?” The words shock you, considering they’re the first words Renjun spoke to you today other than commands for golf clubs.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Huang.” You respond promptly.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone is icy, and he quickly realizes how unnecessary it is to bite at you like that, “Just call me Renjun.” His father walks back from his shot, looking very smug. Renjun’s face is calm as he trades spots with his father and prepares for his first swing of the day, correcting his posture and loosening his limbs.

You remember the first time you saw him, how elegant and poised he looked. Your cold hands break into a sweat as your chest heats up from the quick beating of your heart. Renjun has only been icy and accusing towards you so far, yet you still feel warm while thinking about him. There has to be something wrong with you.

“Doesn’t my son look like he knows what he’s doing?” Mr. Huang asks from beside you, a small, unnerving smile on his lips.

“Yes, sir.” You reply back with your own, more innocent, smile.

“I taught him everything he knows about golf…. And women.” Mr. Huang leans into you, turning his chest to face you so that his breath is hitting your cheek. You can’t help but swallow to relieve your dry and cold throat, keeping your eyes forward as Renjun swings his club back and forth a bit in preparation.

“Yes, sir.” The only thought on your mind is to stop this man from stepping closer.

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

Renjun swings his arm back, breathing in as he keeps his eyes on the small white ball and his hopes in the green before him. Mr. Huang’s right hand is warm on your waist, but you would give anything to freeze right now.

A sharp crack ripples through the air as Renjun hits the golf ball and sends it flying into the golf course. His eyes are not where the ball lands, but instead on where his father touches you.

Renjun’s mom died when he was not even three days old.

He never got to meet her— to lay on her chest and hold her finger with his whole hand. He’ll never know what advice she would’ve given him when he got his first girlfriend, and he’ll never know how she would’ve reacted to him crashing his first car when he was 17. He only knows that his mom would’ve been there for him through all of that, unlike his father, who was not.

Renjun has had “mothers” through his life; three, to be exact. The first was when he was 5 years old, and she quickly asked for a divorce after Renjun’s dad went on a three month business trip and she didn’t hear from him the whole time. The second “mother” was a bit more mature than the first and with a lot more time on her hands. She wanted to shape 9 year old Renjun into a perfect student, which was something Renjun’s father appreciated, but still divorced her for “being too strong-headed.” Renjun only met his third mother twice when he was 13: once at the wedding and the second time at her funeral. He didn’t ask any questions, he wasn’t very interested in the first place.

These were the type of people Renjun spent his life around, but they really weren’t his mothers. The only similarity he had with those women was his father, and he treated them as poorly as he treated Renjun. That’s why when Renjun looks at you, cowering away from the very man who is his only link to family, he feels sick.

When is his dad going to stop being a fucking predator? How young does he want his next conquest to be? Will Renjun’s next mom be the same age as him? Something swirls in the pit of his stomach when he watches his father and it takes a moment for him to figure out what it is: jealousy. He’s not sure why he’s feeling jealous over someone he just met last week, but the feeling engulfs his whole chest and it burns him to his spot.

Renjun doesn’t even notice that he swung his golf club or that the golf ball went somewhere far into the green, probably an overshot. He only sees you, afraid of the man touching you but not stepping away. Why aren’t you stepping away?

“Nice job, Renjun.” His best friend, Jeno, claps a hand on his back as he steps up, hitting Renjun back into reality and forcing him to walk towards you. As Renjun approaches, his father slyly takes his hand away, and Renjun notices how you let out a relieved sigh. Giving you back his driver, Renjun strategically stands between you and his father, pretending to watch Jeno swing.

“Good job… Renjun.” You whisper, unsure about calling him by his first name so informally.

“Thank you.” Renjun sends a side glance to his father to see the displeased look on his face. “How was that, Dad?” Renjun hopes that maybe he can remind his father of why he’s here (to win against the Lees this week, not to feel up a girl 30 years younger than him) but in this moment, his father is acting like a 5 year old in the middle of a silent tantrum, not a 50 year old who runs the most successful construction company in the country.

“I’ve taught you better than that.” Renjun is sure they’re not talking about golf anymore, the authoritative tone in his father’s voice sends a lightning bolt of surprise and slight fear down Renjun’s back. He hates how he gets scared, he hates how his father can control him. The fury churns in the pit of his stomach as he accepts his father’s words with a bow of his head.

One day, Renjun swears he won’t submit anymore.

After the game ended with the Lees winning once again, you, Lia, and your other coworkers convene at the golf carts after the clients leave to change inside the club.

“You ladies know the drill.” Kara throws both sets of golf cart keys at you before walking off with Mina. You push Lia towards the entrance of the building before she even has a chance to turn around and open her mouth.

“You should get to the cafe before your boss throws another fit.” Lia turns back to face you, her jaw slightly slack and her eyes shining.

“You’re seriously the best. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a few extra shots in my coffee on Monday.” Lia laughs at that, grabbing your face between her two small, manicured hands and kissing you on each cheek before hopping off inside. You can’t help but be amused at her antics, turning to the golf carts in front of you to start cleaning.

“They make you clean the carts by yourself?” The voice startles you, not because you weren’t expecting it but because it’s Renjun’s. You turn your head over your shoulder, he’s standing just a few feet away still in his golfing gear from earlier.

“Uh, not usually, no. But my coworkers haven’t been happy with me lately.” You explain, fully turning to him and crossing your arms over your chest to tuck your cold hands into your sides.

“The ones who have been working here for a while?” You nod as an answer, and Renjun nods back in understanding, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “They’ve been trying to get with me and my best friend for a while...” Renjun trails off when he sees your eyebrows raise at the comment, “... But that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

“Oh? What are you here for?” The conversation has gotten too informal for a worker and their client to be having, but you kind of like talking to Renjun in this casual setting.

“I realized that the past few times we’ve talked I’ve been such a dick.” He laughs lightly as he remembers, “I wanted to apologize for that. I wasn’t in a good mood last week and this morning, and I ended up pushing it on you.”

Renjun feels lots of emotions when it comes to you, despite only having this one proper conversation with you. He feels envy towards you for being able to study something that he desperately wants to. He feels guilt when he remembers how quickly he made you into a thief when you were only trying to return his belongings, and he feels so many other secondary and tertiary emotions in between. His head is full when he looks at you. He finally feels like he’s thinking about something, not just doing the same day to day motions in a constant cycle of ‘when will this end?’

“You’re apologizing?” You ask, stunned when he nods his head in confirmation. Sincere apologies are important to you. You believe there are not enough of them in this world anymore, and his gentle almond eyes are too wholehearted and warm for you in this cold weather. Your heart feels full looking at him, and you curse at yourself in your head for being swayed like this.

“I also have a question… You mentioned you’re majoring in Studio Art and I was wondering if, maybe, you could let me into one of the studios after a class this week? I’ve been needing a quiet place to work since my house has been busy lately.” One of the hands that was in Renjun’s pocket moves to matte down his sideburns while he glances at his shoes. “Was that too forward? Sorry, I just know that you can’t get into a studio without a passcode and you’re the only person I know who’s in Studio Art.” Renjun explains after you stare for a while, blinking at him.

“You’re an artist?” You finally ask, Renjun giving you a weak ‘yeah’ in response. A part of you wants to say no, that it’ll be weird to do something like this for him when you’ve only known him for less than 2 weeks and up until this point, you’ve only been in a worker-client relationship. However, you’re curious about what he’s like outside of this setting, especially what he’s like when his father has no possibility of appearing, since that seems to be the factor that turns his mood up or down.

“Sure. Come by studio 3 after 6pm on Wednesday and I’ll let you in, but... I heard Mr. Lee already scheduled a game for next weekend?” Renjun nods, “Then in return, you can win that game. It’s embarrassing always being on the losing team.” You smile playfully at the end to let him know you’re only joking.

“Deal.” Renjun sends a smile back of the same caliber, holding out a hand to shake with yours. If you thought you were affected by Renjun’s nice presence, his hand in yours sends you into another realm. His touch is warm from staying indoors and from keeping his hands in his pockets, and they contrast to your cold skin. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your hands connect, turning your hand in his grip to look at your knuckles. “Are you sure you’re not cold? Your hands are freezing.”

“I’ll be okay. I just don’t have any good gloves to wear while working.” He huffs, small traces of white smoke leaves his mouth as he digs through his pockets.

“Wear these.” He replaces his hand in yours with a pair of his own gloves, “Your hands are precious, they shouldn’t be freezing.” Before Renjun can get embarrassed by his own words, he shoves his hands back into his pockets and turns on his heel, walking away, “I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

A knock on the studio doors shakes you away from staring at your painting, making you turn to look at who it is. Renjun peaks through the small window and waves when you make eye contact. You get up to open the door, almost forgetting that today is the day you agreed to let Renjun into your studio.

… Okay, that’s a lie. You definitely remembered that you’re supposed to meet Renjun, but you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re not excited about seeing him outside of that stuffy country club.

“Hey, sorry if I startled you.” Is the first thing he says when you open the door. He’s dressed in slacks, a dress shirt with a sweater over it, and a long coat over that. His nose and cheeks are slightly red from the rough wind outside and his supplies are clutched to his chest.

“Oh, you’re fine. I was just deep in thought.” Something about the studio makes both of you speak in hushed tones. No one else is here, but you feel the need to maintain the peace and quiet the room naturally holds. You and Renjun make your way to where you’re set up, he puts his things down on an easel to your left and takes off his coat, watching you from his peripheral vision.

Those uniforms they make you wear at work are just for show, Renjun knows that well, but that doesn’t stop him from appreciating you in the tight vest and little skirt. However right now, he likes your laid back look consisting of loose jeans and a layered shirt, he thinks it matches you.

“I was going to leave when you got here, but I think I’ll just finish this and head out.” You comment, aimlessly waving at your project.

“Please, stay as long as you need to. This is your studio, I don’t want to kick you out.” He laughs and licks his bottom lip. It’s breathtaking how innocent and nice his smile looks on his face. His eyes scrunch together to form laugh lines and his cheeks rise, he truly looks pretty when he smiles. You think this is the first time you’ve seen him like this.

You mumble back with a mixture of words that probably didn’t make sense and turn back to your work, leaving the room to continue with its peacefulness and quiet. However, Renjun’s presence next to you is too big to ignore. There are so many things you want to know about him and you have no excuse as to why you’re so curious.

“How about a game while we work?” You suggest.

“Sure… How about 20 questions?” It’s like he read your mind, so you smile and nod at his idea.

“You can go first.” You suggest.

“Okay, uh… Why do you work at a golf course if you’re majoring in Studio Art? Shouldn’t you be working at a, I don’t know, museum?” The question catches you off guard and Renjun notices how you stop painting, your brush and your hand floating in the air as you think, “Oh, sorry, is that too personal?”

“No, no… It’s just, normally, the first question people ask in a game of 20 questions is something like ‘what’s your favorite color’ or ‘what’s your sign’.” Renjun lets out a choked and embarrassed laugh, ducking his head down to look away from you. You can tell he’s about to change his question, so you quickly go back to painting and speak before he can.

“I did apply to work at several museums. I didn’t get any jobs, so I had to look elsewhere and Augusta was hiring. I know it’s not very fitting, but it makes good money and rich people know my name, even if it’s for just a few hours.” Renjun nods at your answer as if he could ever understand the idea of being poor, but the insight into your decision brings a fact to light that Renjun wasn’t 100% aware of before: you’re not like him, you need money.

“Don’t you hate the way people look at you there?” The words tumble out of Renjun’s lips faster than he can process the weight they carry. He turns to face you with guilt pooling in his eyes and his mouth opening and closing to find some words to correct the situation.

“No, I don’t like it.” You surprise him with your quick response, “But people like you don’t understand what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, to have to worry about how to pay the bills every month for years on end, always on your toes about money. I bet you think I’m cheap and—”

“No.” Renjun cuts you off promptly before you can continue, “Don’t make me into a jerk. I’m not like that. But the fact that that is the first thing you thought of worries me.” Your eyes widen at that, prompting him to elaborate. “Doesn’t that mean that’s how you think of yourself? Maybe not on the outside, but subconsciously. Sure, I won’t ever be able to understand how you live, but I wish you would not look at yourself as cheap and think of yourself as… beautiful.” Renjun lets the last words linger on his tongue, saying it quietly as if to not startle you.

You stare at him, your paintbrush resting in your hand and your back slouched as you watch him watch you. This is not the type of conversation you thought you’d be having with Renjun tonight, but you have to admit he makes a point. Eventually, you turn to your painting and stare at it some more, making Renjun turn and continue his own work.

“Ah, I asked two questions in a row.” He suddenly breaks the tense atmosphere, making you sigh as you remember you’re just playing a game, “You can ask two questions.”

He allows and relaxes when he sees you go back to painting.

“If you like to draw, why are you a business major?” Now it’s Renjun’s turn to freeze. Maybe if he did ask what your favorite color was he wouldn’t have had to endure this question from you, but he feels like he should answer it since it’s of equal weight to the one he asked you.

“It wasn’t my choice. I will most likely take my father’s place in his company and I need to at least know the basics before that happens.” You nod slowly. He looks so calm when he’s focused on drawing, but it’s not the same calm that you see on his face when he’s playing golf. You turn away before you get caught staring.

“Is that why your mood always changes when your dad is around?”

“Is it that obvious…” He trails off and you nod, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud, but… It’s like everytime I’m around him, or at his office, or at home, my mind goes blank. I don’t feel like talking or thinking at all.” As he speaks, he sets down his utensils and turns to you, making continuous eye contact as he explains. You find yourself feeling comfortable at how easily he’s talking to you about such a deep subject.

“It sounds like… you’re angry.” You turned to face him now too, your paintbrush settled onto your canvas and your full attention on him, “My dad is like that. He gets so angry sometimes that he’s calm. No yelling or fighting, just silence. That’s how I know I messed up when he gets like that.” You nod, remembering all the times he’s been calmly mad at you.

“I don’t know… It’s confusing to me.” He straightens his back and stares at your foot as it moves around aimlessly. “What do I do?” He asks into the air, as if his pencil would suddenly start talking to him like a therapist.

“Just do what makes you happy.” Renjun’s glance over at you makes a smile pull at your lips, “I know it’s easier said than done. But you already know what it is that’ll make you happy, and that’s half of the battle. Why bottle it up?”

Renjun doesn’t know how he’ll ever get the courage to tell his father these things, but the way you’re looking at him as if he can do anything, he starts to feel tingles of confidence trickle into him.

“Oh, and why did you pick me to be your caddie this past weekend?”

“Well…” Renjun plays with his pencil. What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t want you to carry around his father’s heavy golf clubs? He doesn’t like the way his father touches you and gets jealous over it for some unknown reason? Yeah, he’s not going to say.

“Just because… I wanted you next to me.” The way he says it makes it sound so simple and true, but your heart drops to your stomach and springs back up going at 100 miles per hour. You can barely stop your hand from shaking as you pick up your brush, and it’s almost like you can’t see in front of you from the thrill of his words.

“Hey,” Renjun suddenly drops his pencil and turns to you, looking a bit confused and slightly upset, “Didn’t you ask three questions?”

“We’re letting the Lees win again today.” Renjun is in the middle of pulling up the zipper of his jacket when his father drops the news. Renjun’s footsteps stutter slightly at his father’s words and he stops walking next to the older man.

“Again?” He asks as he already thinks up an apology to tell you later when he loses.

“Yes, I need Mr. Lee to be happy when I bring up the new contract to him later in the sauna.” Renjun sighs and continues to walk next to his father. It’s the next weekend, and the third Lee vs. Huang game is starting in just a few minutes.

Renjun won’t lie, purposefully losing to his best friend and his dad every week is not the greatest stroke to Renjun’s ego, especially since Jeno won’t let it down around his other friends.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lijun swivels on his heel to look at his son, “Have you been requesting for ___ to be your caddie?”

The questions stuns Renjun, making it hard to answer so his father takes it as a yes.

“Well stop it. Dad wants to have some fun.” He claps a hand on Renjun’s back and smiles. In the past, Renjun would’ve just rolled his eyes and let his father do whatever he wants, but this time his blood boils. He feels true anger when his father struts away with the intentions of doing whatever he wants to someone Renjun cares about. He can barely move his feet after the old man, his mind cloudy as everyone makes it to the golf carts.

“Let’s have a good game today, Mr. Huang, don’t make it too easy to beat you.” Mr. Lee jokes around and the two old men laugh as they settle into their own golf carts. Renjun walks up to his cart and you wave to him, the white gloves he gave you last week snugly on your hands. Renjun thinks his anger is what spurs him into doing what he does next.

He steps close to you, leaning into your ear and wrapping his hand around your covered ones with his thumb rubbing on your exposed wrist, “Keep these on for me, babe. I don’t want you to be cold.”

The amount of jaws that drops after Renjun’s words makes him bite down his smirk and slide into the front seat of the golf cart, pretending to not see the daggers his father is throwing at him with his eyes.

Your heart beats so quickly and loudly you’re sure Kara can hear it next to you if she wasn’t busy huffing about what Renjun just did. Sitting in the back seat of the golf cart, you watch the back of Renjun’s head on the way to the first hole. What got into Renjun? Why did he all of a sudden call you ‘babe’ and get so close? Not that you’re opposed to it, you’re just shocked.

The game begins once you reach the first hole, and the Huang’s put up a good fight throughout the entire game, keeping the Lees on their toes and the score sheet even. Everytime Renjun comes back from a shot, you smile at him and tell him good job, which earns you a pat on the back from him that warms you up from the inside out.

Renjun can tell his father is getting more and more annoyed with him; how Renjun is keeping you as far from his father as he possibly can, the gentle touches on your waist that you welcome wholeheartedly compared to the ones Mr. Huang would lay on you before. He likes how angry his father gets, especially knowing that he can’t do anything about it right now. Not to mention, you seem to be enjoying Renjun’s attention, which just adds to his confidence.

Now, your group arrives at the last hole of the game. The Lees step up and swing, setting their total score to 357. All Renjun and his father have to do is move the ball around a bit more to get their score to be higher and the Lees will win the game. Mr. Huang is up first, acting clumsy so that the ball doesn’t make it into the hole and brings the game to Renjun.

As he sets up his posture, his hands suddenly go stiff. This shot is so easy to make, he has made this exact hole several times. He breathes in and out deeply, deciding on if he should throw the game like his father said he should, or give his one last ‘fuck you’ to his Dad.

He glances at you and makes eye contact; you nod your head and smile a bit as if to say ‘go ahead, we all know you can do this.’ Renjun then grips his golf club and swings it back to effortlessly hit the golf ball, rolling it along the green and perfectly into the hole.

You and the other caddies clap for the perfectly executed shot and Jeno and his father come up to Renjun to shake hands. They don’t look upset, instead they look pretty happy for Renjun. However, Renjun’s father is deathly silent, not even congratulating Renjun on his win. Renjun wasn’t expecting a whole ceremony for him, but it does feel nice to put his father down a peg or two today, and that’s the thought that fills Renjun’s head as everyone rides back to the country club.

While getting out of the golf cart, Renjun attempts to turn back to you but is promptly pulled away by the back of his jacket by his father. Renjun yelps and pulls away, but that doesn’t stop Lijun from grabbing onto his son’s arm instead and pulling him inside.

“What was that? I specifically told you to lose the game and you did the exact opposite. How am I supposed to talk to Mr. Lee now?” Renjun’s father fumes, his low voice belting out into the corridor and making some of the passing staff turn their heads.

“That’s not my problem.” Renjun shrugs and his father stops shaking, stepping closer to his son.

“Excuse me?” He asks with menace dripping from his tongue.

“I said, that’s not my problem.” Renjun is fired up. He doesn’t see a way out of this now, no way his behavior is being excused, so might as well go all in.

“You did it for that caddie, ___, right?” His father squints his eyes and turns his head slightly. When Renjun doesn’t answer, Lijun laughs in his face, “It looks like I’m right.”

“What?” Renjun asks dumbly.

“It’s okay. You’re just a boy and you can make some mistakes over a girl, we’ve all been there once or twice.” Lijun fixes Renjun’s jacket and pats his shoulder, his angry disposition turning passive. “Besides, you can’t do much for that girl anyway. Is a ball in a hole really all she deserves?”

“I won the game because I could. I won it because that’s what I wanted.” Renjun states, his blood beginning to boil once again when his father says he doesn’t deserve you. What is he thinking? Does he actually think he has a chance with you? He can keep dreaming.

“We can’t always do whatever we want. There are consequences we have to face for doing whatever we want. Are you ready to face the consequences?” At the question, Renjun is reminded about the words you told him Wednesday night.

‘Just do what makes you happy,’ Those simple words are so hard to turn into reality. Renjun wants to be happy so bad. He wants to be away from this man and he wants to be closer to you. The consequences? Sure, he’ll deal with it all if it means he can stop living in the personal hell his father set up for him. Renjun pushes his father away a bit and steps out of the trap his father pushed him into, making Lijun’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Renjun says and turns around, walking back towards the exit of the building.

“Hey, where are you going?” His father shouts after him.

“To do the thing that I want to do the most.” He yells back and walks around the corner, out of sight from his father. Renjun practically runs through the hallways to get back outside and run to you, but you surprise him by greeting him by the saunas. He stops in his steps and you smile as you walk up to him.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that you did really well today. I know I said I wanted you to win last week, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” You laugh.

“Thanks.” Renjun simply says, afraid of what else could come out if he keeps talking.

“Oh, I also want to give you these back.” You dig out Renjun’s gloves from your pocket, holding them out. This is it. This is the moment Renjun will start to do whatever makes him happy, whatever he wants.

And what he wants right now is you.

He quickly takes the gloves and then tightly grips the wrist of your outstretched hand, leading you down the hallway and around some corner. He hears you exclaim a small ‘woah’ but you let him guide you into a sauna, the door closing tightly behind both of you.

There’s no one else in the room, just the stuffy steam that floats in the small space between you two. Renjun has a tight grip on the gloves you gave back to him and his other hand runs through his hair and messes up the perfect form it held.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands, looking straight into your eyes.

“What?”

“Tell me to stop right now.” He takes a step forward, his eyes full to the brim with lust and his hands shaking with how much he’s holding himself together. You’ve barely been in the room for a minute, but your clothes are already sticking to you from the intense heat.

“I don’t understand,” You reply back as he keeps moving toward you. You take small steps back in return, “I don’t know what I’m stopping you from.” Half of you is playing dumb right now; you know what Renjun wants from you just by the look in his eyes. The other half just wants to hear him say it himself

“I’ll fuck you the way you deserve. Right here, right now.” Renjun’s voice is too angelic to say such nasty words, but he growls them out like he’s a tainted angel. You’re pressed against the wooden wall of the sauna now, Renjun just a step away. You lean into him slightly and rip the gloves out of his hand to throw them to the side.

“Do it.”

It’s all the permission Renjun needs to feverishly connect his lips to yours.

The action is so sudden, you don’t remember how Renjun got close to you so quickly. Despite his forcefulness before, his lips melt into you like chocolate melting over a fire, so hot and delicious that you just want more. His hands hold the sides of your face, pushing back your hair and his body pushing you back into the wall.

He sucks on your bottom lip, softly biting afterwards and making you let out a whimper, and then a moan when his thigh pushes between your legs and further presses you against the wall. Amidst the kissing, you find the zipper of his expensive jacket, unzip it, and pull the piece of clothing off. Afterwards, you pull his shirt off and break the kiss while you’re at it.

“I’ve been thinking about you in this skirt since….” Renjun hums at the thought, his hand sliding up your bare thighs and under your skirt, then he grips your ass and brings your core down onto his thigh, the friction enough to have you letting out a strangled moan.

“Since the day I first saw you.” He finally whispers and connects your lips once again. His hand on your ass doesn’t move, his other hand is placed on your waist as he helps you ride the rough material of his pants. Renjun can only watch your reactions; the way your head lolls back into the wall and your eyes screw shut, holding onto Renjun’s shoulders tight enough he’s sure there will be marks afterwards.

“Fuck— Renjun, don’t stop, please.” He’s mesmerized, absolutely addicted to how you look and sound right now, and it’s all because of him. The thought spurs him along, he removes your jacket and you blindly help him in removing your top and bra. You must look like a mess right now, especially since you’re coming close to your climax just by Renjun’s touch and his thigh. Not to mention the sweat dripping down both of you, a glistening sheen coating your skin that makes Renjun let out a low growl before he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

He sucks and swirls his tongue, and you can’t help but moan his name again, digging your fingers into his blonde hair and tugging. Renjun moves from your chest downward, not letting an inch of your stomach and hips go past him without a kiss and a nibble, leaving you breathing heavily. He makes his way down to his knees and folds your skirt up, glancing at you from his position.

“You don’t wear anything under here except your panties?” You nod, your head stuttering as Renjun applies pressure with his thumb over your slick hole, a wet spot already there to greet him.

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby.” He groans and leans in to swipe his tongue over your center making you shake as a response. He slides your underwear down and throws it somewhere to the side, catching the sigh of your arousal dripping down your thigh. His intense stare makes you shake him, embarrassment crawling over you at how he’s not reacting.

“Are you shy?” You whine, not really answering his question. “You don’t need to be. You’re beautiful.” The softness from his voice contradicts his more dominating tone from before, but you don’t have time to think about it before he dives in. You sigh in content when the pressure in between your hips caused by Renjun turns into pure pleasure. His tongue laps at your essence and his lips suck on your clit, you can tell he’s trying to find what exactly will make you tick.

When Renjun slides a finger into your hole unexpectedly, you jump and whimper a bit but the feeling of him sliding in and out along with his tongue circling and sucking on your clit makes a knot form in the pit of your stomach, tightening up your muscles and making your eyes roll back.

“Right there. Oh my god, right there…” You keep repeating, praying that Renjun treats you good and let’s you come. He adds another finger and you gasp, starting to move your hips in rhythm to his hand, holding onto his shoulders for more stability. He glances up at you, watching your eyes screw shut and your tits bounce as you use his hand to get yourself off. Renjun hums against you, and you can almost feel the ecstasy of coming undone, until Renjun pulls away. You groan, feeling like crying when your orgasm fades.

“Hey..” You whine, pouting when Renjun stands back up and licks your juices off of his lips. He has some on his chin and you bring your hand up to wipe it away, Renjun stopping your hand and kissing the wetness away, then kissing up your arm and to your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear. He tugs at your earlobe, licking the skin under it and biting some more, his hands sliding up your waist at playing with your nipples, pinching a little to get whimpers out of you and making your hips buck up, ready to continue where Renjun left you at.

That’s when you feel the hardness in his pants; it must be painful. That’s why you understand his next words, whispered into the shell of your ear between kisses: “You’re not coming until I’m in you, got it?”

You nod quickly, attaching your hands to Renjun’s zipper and button, undoing them and sliding down his pants.

“But, you’re gonna need to do something for me…” He says, helping you pull down his boxers, watching his angry, red length swing out. You gasp, feeling a bit bad that you just left Renjun like this to eat you out, but you’re sure you can make up to him now.

“What is it? I’ll do it.” Your hands run over Renjun’s sweaty shoulders, moving away some longer hair in the back of his head that’s sticking against his neck.

“You’re gonna have to yell my name. I need you to let everyone know who’s doing this to you— who’s making you feel good, okay?” Your breath gets caught in your throat as the words tumble out of his lips. He tilts his voice higher at the end of every phrase to make him sound innocent, but you’re not fooled.

“There’s people outside…” You mumble back, sending a glance at the door. You know there are several staff and customers walking along the hallways outside. What will they think if they hear you screaming Renjun’s name? Not to talk about what will happen to your job.

Those thoughts melt away when Renjun’s dick slides between your folds slowly, making you turn your gaze back to him and hold on tight as he lubricates himself over your wetness, holding onto your hips so that you don’t move and take anymore than what he’s giving you.

“That’s exactly why I want you to scream. Can you do that for me?” He asks and you nod frantically, doing almost anything to get his dick inside you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen once you step out of this room, but at least you know Renjun is going to give you the best fuck you’ve had in a while, and you know it’ll be worth it for what’s to come after all this.

“Finally…” You moan when Renjun’s length disappears into you inch by inch, going slow as to not hurt you. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he bottoms out, picking up your thigh to hang it over his hip and wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you close. You hold onto him, adjusting as he kisses your lips sweetly and carefully, and waits to move his throbbing cock through your velvety walls.

“Go, Renjun, move….” You whisper, and he looks at you confused.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He asks, cocking his head.

“Please, move.” You say louder, but he shakes his head and purses his lips as if he still can’t understand.

“I said, fuck me, Renjun. Please, can you fuck me already?” You all but scream out, your voice almost cracking at how whiny you sound. No doubt, if someone passed by outside they would’ve heard you. The thought makes you tense up, but it feels so good to be able to yell out what you want.

“Your wish, baby.” Renjun mutters before he starts rocking into you. You both groan at the sensation, Renjun’s hips speeding up as he gains more momentum. His lips don’t leave yours, kissing you into oblivion while his dick stuffs you. He has you against the wall, his hips powering away and you don’t dare to disturb him, realizing he’s burning all of his anger away as well.

“Yes, Renjun, fuck me just like that…'' You moan loudly to spur him on, now not really caring about who’s outside or who hears you, just wanting Renjun to know you love how rough he’s going. He presses you higher up the wall and pulls your legs apart more, hitting a new angle that literally makes you scream out, tears mixing with the sweat on your face as he relentlessly pumps into you.

There are so many things going on at the same time. Your hard nipples and soft breasts rubbing against Renjun’s chest, making goosebumps rise on his arms. Your hot and sweaty bodies are basically sliding against each other. The clapping of his hips against yours no doubt attracts attention from outside along with your screams and Renjun’s grunts continuously get louder as you both get closer to the climax.

“I’m gonna come… Renjun, come in me…” You’re already fucked out, the words barely leaving your lips coherently, but Renjun understands and moves his finger down to find your clit, circling his thumb fast and steady, just like everything else he’s doing.

“C’mon come on my cock, babe. Let it out, I wanna hear it.” And just like that, you unwind and scream his name as your orgasm washes over and takes control, making you claw onto any part of Renjun that you can reach. Renjun feels your walls deliciously convulse around him and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he comes into you and fills you up, staying wrapped up in you as you both calm down.

Renjun presses small kisses wherever he feels like as your breathing settles down, his softness and the caring way he rubs at your sides and hips where he was holding so hard that you’re sure to have bruises makes you smile hazily.

“___… I don’t regret any of this.” He whispers into your skin, leaning back to look at you properly. “Do you?”

“No.” You answer truthfully, making his eyes shine and you both smile dumbly, your sticking bodies relaxing. The happy moment doesn’t last long before there’s a knock on the door to the sauna. You and Renjun stiffen up as you glance at the door, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

“Renjun? Son?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you cover your mouth at the voice of Renjun’s father on the other side of the door, but when you turn to Renjun, he doesn’t seem bothered. He sends a smile at you and moves some hair from your face before answering.

“Occupied, go somewhere else. We’re busy.”

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kimmietea · 3 years

Text

Double Yikes! Part 2 (Ben Hardy x Reader)

Summary: Continuation of Double Yikes! Part 1

Warnings: Uhhhh.... Well I don't want to give anything away so...Read at your own risk

Continuation of Yikes! and Double Yikes! Part 1

A/N: Ok I know it's been a LONG time coming but I believe you will all think it was well worth the wait. Now I recommend you reread the whole Yikes! series before you read this one BUT it's not necessary. I've included a bit of where we last left off so you're all not completely lost. Thank you so much for those of you how stuck by and waited this thing out. I debated on telling you all this BUT I do have an idea for anther part... Reader goes to "help" Ben babysit. I haven't started it and I have no idea if I ever will but the idea is there and I promise if I do decide to do it I will write the entire thing first before posting so no one has to wait. Ok no more rambling lets get to it! Don't forget to tell me what you think and Italics is reader thinking to herself in her head!! Enjoy!!

TagList: @borhapqueen92 @radiob-l-a-hblah @gwendolyns-stacy @coincidence-ithinknots-blog @mythicmazzellos @hardforbenhardy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @im-an-adult-ish @theprettyandthereckless @mamaskillerqueen @cupboardzllo @goliveeasy17posts @okilover02 @gwilymleeisbae @youngpastafanmug

******************

"Thank you Ben, I had a really great time." He took a small step forward and placed one hand on your hip, your heart sped up. His hand felt heavy and the heat coming from him being so close spread through your entire body.

"So did I. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me tonight. I never do this kind of thing but I couldn't leave your office without a definite way to see you again." He laughed a little to ease his nerves, his head leaning slightly closer to you.

Oh god ok, breath

"Well I'm very glad you did." You said, much softer than you intended. Ben had his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as his eyes traveled over your face, landing on your lips. He was close and you could feel his breath across your face again, like at the restaurant. His heavy hand still firm on your hip, his thumb now rubbing along soothingly.

Please kiss me

He brought his other hand up to the side of your face, letting the tips of his fingers run over your cheekbone.

Pleeeease kiss me

You took a chance and placed your hand at the nape of his neck, letting your fingers intertwine in his hair. He smiled and licked his lips.

PAH-LEEAS KISS ME DAMN IT!

"Y/N, can I kiss you?" He whispered.

FUCKIN FINALLY!

Too afraid you'd actually say what you were thinking, you nodded. He smiled and leaned in slowly to close the space between you. You instantly felt an electric shock travel through you causing you to move closer towards him and tug on his hair. He moaned into the kiss and slid his hand from your hip to your back, pulling you flush against him.

You sighed at the feeling of him being pressed against you and your lips parted. Ben wasted no time and slid his tongue along yours. You moaned and let your unoccupied hand glide up his torso, feeling his tight muscles under his shirt to rest on his chest. Ben's hand that was near your face moved to join his other on your back.

Your entire body was on fire, your head spinning, either from the intensity of the kiss or the lack of oxygen, you weren't sure. Just when you were about to pull back to see if he wanted to move things inside, he slid one of his hands down to rest on the curve of your ass.

You whined and pushed back into his hand. He moaned and gripped your ass roughly, causing you to involuntarily snap your hips forward into his. He moaned again and finally pulled away. Ben was panting heavily, his lips were swollen and red, his cheeks flushed and warm. You were sure you looked the same.

Alright, say something cool and invite him inside

You opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it.

"I can't do this." Your heart dropped and you could feel the color drain from your face.

But...but things were going so well. What happened? How did i fuck this up?

You could feel tears start to prick behind your eyes.

Do NOT cry in front of him!

“Right, ok.” You nodded sadly and stepped back, away from him. His hands fell from you and you reached for your keys.

"Wait Y/N, that came out wrong." He grabbed your hand and tried to get you to look at him. You shook your head, putting your keys in the lock and unlocking the door.

"No Ben, it's fine. You don't want to. I get it. No big deal." You managed to get out, finally looking up at him and gave him a tight lipped smile.

"But that’s just it, I do want to! Believe me, I do! God I've only been thinking about it since the moment i fuckin saw you." He laughed at himself and you felt a little better.

"Of course I want to. I mean it's obvious I want to." He gestured vaguely to his crotch where there was a definite bulge. You let your eyes glance down quickly.

God if he's that big after just a kiss I could only imagine...no no, time to focus stop it!

"But I'm supposed to be the perfect gentleman tonight, that’s what I meant, and that is definitely not the gentlemanly thing to do on the first date, as much as I'd love to." He paused.

"Maybe on the second date." He chuckled.

"You want a second date?" You asked, hopeful.

"Of course I do. I had an amazing time. You're smart, well spoken, gorgeous and funny as hell. And that kiss! I absolutely need more of that in my life." You laughed and he took a tentative step towards you. When you didn’t step away he wrapped his arms around you and you rested your head against his chest. His heart was pounding.

"Forgive me?"

You smiled up at him and nodded. He leaned down and kissed you again. It was softer this time, slower. He pulled away gently and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

"Can I call you tomorrow?" He whispered.

"Definitely."

Alright if this isn't happening tonight i need to go inside before i start begging

You pecked his soft lips one last time and backed away from him. He took your hand in his before you were completely out of reach.

"Now I need to try to get to my car without any of your neighbors seeing me and think I'm some perv walking around your building with a damn hard on." You barked out a laugh and covered your face with your hand. When your eyes met his again that same look from the car and the restaurant was back. The butterflies also made a comeback.

We were just making out! What's with the butterflies! He is going to be the death of me, I swear.

"Goodnight beautiful, I’ll talk to you tomorrow." He said, kissed your hand.

“Goodnight Ben.” You said and he turned to leave. You entered your apartment and leaned against the door. You let out a frustrated groan.

UGGH. Damn you and your grogeous fuckin face and your perfect gentleman shit, your perfect lips and hands.

You were beyond sexualy fusterated and kicked your shoes off, tossed your purse on the table and went to the kitchen. You looked out the window over the sink just in time to see Ben get to his car. You watched him get in but he didn’t pull away.

I wish he would just come back up here and…

You ran to your purse and grabbed your cell, pressing Ben’s number. You had an idea. It rang twice before he answered.

“Miss me already love?” He joked down the line. His voice sounded so much deeper over the phone and you clenched your legs together. You walked back into the kitchen to watch out the window. He was still there.

“Something like that.” You laughed. “About that second date you mentioned.

“Absolutely, anytime.” You smirked.

“How about in about 10 minuntes?” He laughed

Oh that laugh

"10 minutes huh? Yeah, I think i'm free. What did you have in mind?" You started to make a pot of coffee and cleaned the small pile of dishes in the sink.

"I was thinking coffee maybe? I know this great little spot, super cheap but very good and it's incredibly close by." His deep chuckle made your heart jump and a wide grin spread across your face.

"Perfect. I'm on my way back up." You watched his car door open.

"Wait, give me 10 minutes to change."

"Change? I thought we were just having coffee at your place."

"No, we are. I just want to change." You finished the dishes and went to your room to pick up the clothes on the floor and somewhat make your bed.

"No way." He laughed.

"What?" You asked confused and threw the towels from your shower earlier in the hamper.

I should stop being such a slob

"That's not fair, I can't change."

"But this dress is killing me." You took a look around the room and figured it was good enough.

"Then why did you wear it tonight?"

"Cause I look hot in it!" You explained with a laugh and went back to the kitchen to look for something to have with your coffee. He hummed down the line and it made your toes curl causing you to stumble a little.

Christ, get it together

"Yeah you do."

Mmm he better get up here quick

"You have nothing in the car?" You asked, trying not to focus on the effect his voice alone had on you. You could hear rustling as he looked.

"I have gym clothes from earlier today. Would you like me to put those on?"

Oooh Ben in gym clothes...Ben at the gym, hot, sweaty, panting...tempting

"Depends? How bad do they smell?" You joked.

"Y/N!"

"Fine fine, I won't change. I guess 'Cafe Y/N' is open for business then."

"I'll be right up." He laughed.

I love how easy it is with him

You hung up and finished getting the coffee ready and set it, along with everything else on the small table in the kitchen and put some music on softly in the background. The knock at the door came and your entire body went cold.

Oh fuck why am I so nervous all of a sudden. Get your shit together. Let’s go!

You walked to the door and your heart began to race. If you didn’t know the cause then you’d be worried you were about to have a heart attack. A few more deep breaths, a quick adjustment to your dress and a hair check before you opened the door with fake confidence.

What the shit!

He left his jacket in the car and had untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it completely so the black tank top that was covering his chest could be seen. It also looked like he ran his hands through his hair, breaking it of its hold from whatever product he had used. Or maybe that was from you during the kiss earlier. Either way he looked incredible.

Fuckin hell

“I thought we weren’t changing.” You commented as cool as possible. He laughed and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. Your knees gave out slightly and you gripped the door tighter.

“I didn't change. I altered.” He smirked.

Wow second date Ben is a little cocky...I like

“Cheater, I can’t alter mine.” You joked and moved to the side letting him in. He kissed your cheek as he passed and walked inside.

“I can think of a few ways.” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” You asked, smiling to yourself and led him to the kitchen.

“Oh nothing.” His cheeks were pink, his lip bit between his teeth. You took a seat at the table and Ben took the seat closest to you, then moved it even closer, the sides of your thighs touching.

“So welcome to cafe Y/N.” You gestured to the table. “Where the coffee is decent and the cookies are probably stale and expired because I don’t remember buying them.” You laughed with a shrug. Time with Ben seemed to fly by. Before you knew it an hour had gone by. Your nerves had settled enough for you two to just sit, talk and joke freely while you sipped your coffee. Neither of you had dared to touch the cookies.

Ben was telling you about an audition he had coming up when the song changed over. ‘Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow by Roberta Flack started to play and your over anxious mind started to wander and you completely zoned out.

Things are so easy with him. It's never been like this with anyone before. I don’t want to be another notch. What if I never hear from him again after tonight?

“Y/N, you alright love?” Ben asked, pulling you out of your thoughts, his voice laced with concern.

Oh shit how long have I not been paying attention

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine.” You shook your head to get rid of your self destructive thoughts.

No, things are different with Ben. This won't be the last time we see each other, I can feel it.

“You sure?” He asked, one hand on the back on your chair and the other now rubbing soothingly on your thigh. You smiled and placed your hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m good. I promise. I think my hair is too tight.” You said and raised your arms to let it out of the bun. You pulled the hair tie and ran your fingers through your hair. You groaned as the tension in your head broke, relief washed over you. Because you put it up earlier when it was wet, it had dried in nice, flowing waves. You ran your hand though it a few more times before letting it settle over your shoulder. When your eyes landed on Ben again he was staring at you. A look of awe on his face. Now it was your turn to ask.

"You ok?" You asked with an amused smile.

"My god you are truly breathtaking." He breathed. It felt like the wind was knocked from you, hard to breath. Like when you were a kid roller skating and you fell on your bottom, your breath ripped from your lungs.

Well that’s different

You ducked your head, letting your hair fall over your face to hide your now red cheeks. Ben’s hand that was on the back of your chair moved to push your hair from your face and stayed on the slope of your neck.

“You don’t need to hide from me.” He said softly. The air in your small kitchen felt thick and heavy. The pull towards him that you were feeling all night was stronger now than ever. You heard the song switch over, ‘Movement by Hozier’. It only added to the charge in the room.

Perfect

His hand on your thigh moved just enough so the very tips of his fingers slid the tiniest bit under the hem of your dress. The heat from his hand spread though your entire body making you yearn for more of his touch. You pressed into his hand on your neck and he leaned forward. Your hand found its way to the back of his neck again, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer, pressing your foreheads together. His hand moved from your neck to your hair, mirroring you. His other hand moved again, now the entire length of his fingers under your dress. Your eyes slipped shut and you took a shaky breath, you moved to let your lips touch his just the slightest bit, barely touching.

“I don’t want you to think I do this all the time.” He whispered against your lips.

“I don’t.” You whispered back. He pressed the smallest kiss to your lips before returning to just resting there.

“There’s something different about you.” He confessed.

Are you a mind reader

“It’s just...it’s easy with you.”

Definitely a mind reader

“You feel it too right? Please don’t say it’s just me?” Even with your eyes closed you could tell he had a worried expression on his beautiful face. He knew just what to say to make any worries you had vanish in seconds.

“No, It’s not. I feel it too.” You felt his lips stretch into a smile before he finally pressed them to yours in a proper kiss. It was nothing like the kiss at your door, that was soft and gentle. Now it was hot, needy and a little rough. Knowing you both were on the same page had changed things, you didn't need to be so cautious and nervous anymore.

Both of your hands were in his hair, scratching his scalp and tugging at it gently only to be rewarded with the most amazing moans and groans from him. His hand moved from your hair down to your back pulling you closer to him, you would be flush against him if it wasn't for the angle you were sitting. His other hand moved to the inside of your thigh, gripping the soft flesh in his rough hand.

Come on just a bit higher

You're not sure how much time had passed but by the time he pulled away and moved to your neck, you were a panting mess. Your head was spinning as Ben nipped and kissed your neck, your breathing so uneven you could barely get any words together.

“Ben” You panted, he hummed against your skin in response but refused to detach himself. You moaned at the vibrations and you thought about how wonderful that would feel someplace else. Your hand tightened in his hair and he groaned, biting on your skin harder than before and tightening his grip on your thigh.

“Fuck, Ben.” He smirked against you and moved to your collarbone where he pressed soft kisses. The change helped to slow your breathing and stop your head from spinning so much. You tried to get his attention again.

“Ben” You managed to get out a whisper.

“What is it love?” He pulled back and looked into your eyes. They were just as stunning as the first time you saw them earlier that day. Same unplaceable green shade, only now much darker, filled with lust and desire. His face flushed and hair was a mess.

Fuck he is beautiful

“Bedroom?” You asked, hopeful. He smiled sweetly before pressing a kiss to your lips. He stood and held his hand out for you to take.

“Lead the way.” You stood on shaky legs and took his hand. You stumbled on the way to your room. Ben pressed himself fully against your back, his excitement for what was happening very evident. With his hands gripping your waist and his lips attached to your neck, you tried not to run into the door frame on your way into the room.

Once in your room Ben kicked his shoes off while continuing his endless stream of kisses and bites on your neck. He brushed your hair to one side and laid it over your shoulder, revealing your entire upper back to him. His hands gently touched and caressed the exposed skin everywhere he could. His lips flowing close behind, leaving soft kisses every place his hands touched.

Your skin was on fire, the wetness between your legs building with every press of his lips, a few more minutes and you'd feel it drip down your legs for sure. Ben moved his hands to the zipper on your dress and kissed his way to your ear.

"This okay?" He breathed and tugged on the zipper gently. You nodded, needing to feel his hands on your skin again. He slowly unzipped your dress, crouching to let his lips follow all the way to the end, at your lower back. When he stood again he brought his hands to your shoulders, gently pushing the straps down. You raised your arms, letting the dress drop to the floor and pool at your feet.

Your heart was racing as you stood there almost naked. Your nerves were skyrocketing. You closed your eyes and tried to steady your breathing. You felt Ben move from behind you to stand in front of you. His hand cupping the side of your face and his thumb running along your bottom lip.

"You alright my darling?" He asked gently. You took another deep breath and nodded, opening your eyes again.

"Nervous." You explained with a slight laugh. He chuckled and stepped in close.

"Don't be." He said. With his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes even darker than before, he let his eyes glace down to your body, drinking you in before meeting your gaze again.

"You're perfect."

Fuckin wet! My god I could probably cum from his voice alone.

He ran his hands over your now exposed sides and down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. You slid your hands under his opened button down and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor with your dress.

Oh pin me to the wall with those arms!

You shift your hands down to his waist, letting them skim over his muscled arms on the way. You pulled the tank up over his toned stomach and chest, he raised his arms to let you remove it and it joined the pile on the floor. Your nails scratch gently down his chest, to his waist where you made quick work of removing his belt and pants. You rubbed over his bulge and he moaned, grabbing your face and pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

You continued to rub over him, feeling him grow harder as his tongue slid against yours. His hands moved from your face to your hair, he gripped a hand full and tugged gently. You hummed and squeezed him in your hand, he moaned and let one hand drop to your wrist, stopping you.

"Bed, now." He demanded, his eyes almost black, lips red and puffy and his breathing, much like yours was erratic.

Oh fuck, yes sir!

You jumped up on the bed, head propped up by the pillows. You let your eyes drift over his body as he stood by the side of the bed. He really was a sight. Every muscle sculpted to perfection, clear soft skin, you could go on for hours really. He looked at you with that small smirk of his that you were beginning to realise only came out when he was feeling a little brash.

“What’s that look for?”

“Just…” You let your eyes slowly rake over him again while you rubbed at your thighs. You licked your lips, making a show of it, before capturing the bottom one between your teeth.

“Admiring.” You finished in a sensual tone. He brushed a hand over his chest and stomach almost self-conscious or embarrassed before he joined you on the bed and crawled up your body until he reached your lips where he kissed you again. You let yourself melt into it, into him. Completely lost in the feel of his hands on your neck and face, the slick glide of his lips on yours. You didn't notice him maneuver himself so his leg was between yours until his knee was pressed hard against your center. You moaned loudly and grounded down against him. He moved his lips to your ear.

"That's it love, I wanna hear everything you've got." He whispered and moved his lips down, kissing over your collarbone to the tops of your breasts. His hands moved to your back, unclipped your bra and removed it completely. You sighed in relief, immediately followed by a moan as Ben took a nipple between his teeth. You arched into him suddenly desperate for more. Your hands flew to his hair as he started to suck.

“Oh fuck!” The feel of his tongue combined with the sensation of his sucking was driving you wild. You could feel your wetness start to soak through your underwear. He let his teeth scarpe over the sensitive bud before replacing his mouth with his hand and switching to the other. Your hands moved from his hair to his back where you ran your nails up and down. He dropped from his knees and rutted his hips against yours. His moan vibrated through your breast and over your entire body causing you to moan in turn. The pressure in your lower abdomen was growing at an alarming rate. The slick feeling between your legs almost like a slip and slide.

Christ am I about to cum from this alone!?

"Ben please….oh god...fuck Ben, stop stop! Please." He immediately stopped and looked up at you, worry etched in his features. You were sweaty and panting wildly, eyes screwed shut.

"Oh my god are you alright?"

Unable to form any words you nodded yes.

"Bad?" He asked fearfully.

"NO!" You shot up, eyes opened wide and almost headbutting him in the process.

Smooth

"Good! Very good, almost too good. “ You laid your head back down and closed your eyes again, trying to regain your breathing.

“I just...oh fuck, I just need a second. Holy fuck that has never happened to me before. This was all about to be over very quickly." You rambled. He threw his head back and laughed.

What I would give to make him laugh every day

"Oh, I like you." He sighed and moved his hand to gently caress over the side of your face. You cracked one eye open to look at him skeptically. A grin stretched across his face.

“What?” he chuckled. You closed your eyes again and made a face.

“I like you too.” You let out a squeak as he captured your lips with his once more. This kiss much like the one at the door, slow and sweet. You moaned, your hands sliding up and down his back encouragingly. He deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against yours with such passion it caused you to buck your hips just slightly into his.

I never want this to end

Ben pulled away placing sweet pecks to your lips before pushing himself up to his knees again.

“Shall we pick up where we left off?” You chuckled and nodded.

“Let's just stay clear of this area for right now.” You said gesturing to your chest. He hummed and brought a hand to the side of your breast and massaged it gently. A shiver ran through your body and you clenched your legs together.

“Fine, but next time I’m going to worship your gorgeous body and I’m spending extra time up here.”

Next time? Does he really mean that or is he just saying it?

“Next time?”

“Next time.” He promised leaning down to kiss you once more before trailing down to your neck. You brought your hands up to tangle in his hair as he bit at a sensitive spot.

"Oh fuck." You sighed. He hummed in response and ran his tongue over the bite.

“I can’t wait to taste you.” He muttered into your skin, breathing in and taking in your scent. You shuddered at his words and whimpered when you raised your hips and was met with nothing as he hovered above you. He brought his lips up to your ear and took your lower lobe between his teeth. With one hand holding himself up he brought the other to the side of your neck. The heavy weight on your throat made your heart beat faster and your center throb. You covered his hand with yours and pressed, he got the hint instantly and tightened his grip. You moaned, bucking your hips again.

"Are you wet for me love?" He whispered, running his tongue along the shell of your ear. Unable to think clear enough to form words you nodded and whined.

"Use your words Y/N." His grip on your throat loosened and you took a deep breath before answering.

"Yes! So wet Ben, all for you." Your voice was hoarse. He smirked against your skin.

"That's my good girl." Your hand tightened in his hair at the praise. It was then you realized that you both still had your underwear on. That one final barrier keeping you from what you wanted.

"Ben... p-please." You pleaded. Desperate to get some friction, you rubbed your thighs together. Deciding to take some pity on you, he removed his hand from your throat and ran it down your body. Goosebumps followed in his wake, erupting over your skin. His hand slid between your legs and you gasped when it settled over your mound and the coolness of his fingertips touched the spot where you ached for him most.

You groaned and started to grind against his hand. His middle finger slipped under the cloth barrier and ever so slightly through your folds, gathering some of the wetness.

"Ben come on." You bucked your hips to meet his hand as he pulled it away.

"All in good time love" He said with a grin and brought his finger up to his lips. You watched with wide eyes as he pushed his finger into his mouth. His eyes slid shut and he moaned around his finger. You had enough of his teasing and decided to move things along a little faster. You sat up as best you could and flipped you both over. You settled on top, your legs straddling his waist.

“Damn” He sighed and looked up at you in awe. You smirked and began to grind against him. You could feel his hardness growing more under you. His hands gripped your waist and pulled you closer as his hips met yours. The friction of your underwear rubbing against you was just what you needed. Before you got too close you stopped to shimmy his boxers down his muscular thighs, groaning at the site of his large cock, red at the tip and leaking. You licked your lips unconsciously and took him in your hand, he gasped and pushed himself up on his elbows to kiss you again. Groaning as you pumped him, he moaned loudly when he looked down and saw your hand wrapped around him.

The pink color high on his cheeks and the darker red spreading from his neck down his chest spurred you on. Feeling neglected you brought one hand to the front of your underwear and began slowly rubbing your clit in a circular motion. Ben’s eyes moved from your hand on him to your hand on yourself. He licked his lips and groaned at the sight. He took hold of both your wrists, stopping your motions and quickly flipped you both back to your original position. His beautiful jade eyes, impossibly dark and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, like he’s about to eat a delicious treat. He leaned down placing his lips briefly on yours before making his way south, showering your stomach with warm and wet opened mouth kisses. Your heart beating fast as he brushes his nose over your underwear, right above your mound. Your breath hitched as he places a long and chaste kiss upon it.

“Ben” You warned, having had enough of his torment. He chucked and pressed another kiss to your clothed core.

“Alright love, no more teasing.” He hooked his fingers under the elastic of your underwear, dragging them down your legs quickly and tossing them over his shoulder. He pulled your legs apart to make room for himself before he laid down on his stomach and pulled you closer to him.

“Goddamm,” he breathed, softly moving his finger up and down your folds, “You really are wet for me aren't you, beautiful? Fuck” he curses under his breath. You moved your hands to his hair and gave it a hard tug. His eyes slid shut and he let out the most pornographic growl yet and rutted his hips against the bed. You loosened your grip and just rested your hands on his head. His eyes slowly opened and traveled up your body to meet yours. You raised a questioning eyebrow, his face was red and flushed.

“So I have a thing about hair pulling.” He confessed with a shy smile.

“I see that.” Your hands raked gently through his hair. He closed his eyes and hummed at the sensation. Without warning he threw your legs onto his shoulders and lowered his head. Your breath hitched before he’d even done anything making him chuckle between your thighs, his cool breath hitting your wetness. You gasped as his tongue pressed against your clit, swirling circles on the sensitive bud. His strong hand firmly on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Hummm,” the vibration makes your whole body tremble before Ben tilts his head to nibble softly at your inner tigh, “You taste fucking amazing,” he adds before diving back in. Relishing in the feeling of your hands in his hair, he moaned against you.

“Plea- Oh, fuck.” Your voice dies in a gasp and your back arches as he delves his tongue in, caressing your most sensitive parts and it feels soft and wet and silky. It tingles and you struggle to breathe as he meticulously swirls his tongue all over. You had never been so sensitive before, so responsive.

He definitely knows what he’s doing

You notice he ruts against the mattress every so often to get some relief for himself. You smirk and give his hair a light tug. He responds with a moan and a quick rut against the bed, as if it was a reflex. You wait a few seconds and try again, same response. You went back to gently raking your fingers through his hair while his tongue worked you over. Soon you feel the familiar knot in your stomach before he pulls back a little and presses his thumb against your clit. You gasp as the change in pressure and it's good but you miss the warmth of his tongue.

"Ben" you breathe, trying to tell him but the words die out. He's there with you and seems to know exactly what you need and he swirls his tongue around your clit and you’re there shockingly fast. You’re almost there… your head sinks into the mattress and you dig your fingers into his hair, your ribs moving fast unashamedly grinding on his face at the rhythm of your breathing and you’re fucking there-

"Ben, close, I'm- I'm close." He pulled away ever so slightly, talking against you.

"Go on love, i'm not stopping at just one" His skilled tongue goes back to working wonders, sending shocks of pleasure to your core, his face deep in you, moving up and down, side to side. You can’t take your eyes off of him as he grabs hold of your thighs, pulling you even closer and you grind your hips against his face, trying so desperately to rush your release, already excited at the promise of more. Your whole body reacts to the sensations, and you’re loud as you moan and gasp and he keeps your hips steady in his hold. He groans against your wetness as he wraps his lips around your clit and begins to suck. Your legs start to shake as a wave of pleasure overtakes your senses and renders you breathless. He continues to gently lick you through your orgasm, finally pulling away when your body goes slack.

“Fuck.” You breathed out. Ben propped himself back up on his elbows so he could see you properly. A satisfied smirk on his now glistening face.

“You ok love?” He asked and even though your eyes were shut you could tell he was smiling.

I can barely think let alone answer you right now

“Y/N?” He urged when you didn't answer.

Ughh, I’ve just been pleasured to the brink of comatose, just give me a second

You just barely lifted your hand to wave him off. He chucked. His fingers began to explore. Traveling up your inner thigh gently. His soft touch slowly brings you back down from your high. They reached your folds, the tip of his index finger ran gently up and down your wet opening. Your breathing began to pick up again and you left out a soft moan.

“Alright darling, i’ll make this one quick.” He sits up on his shins and slides two of his thick fingers into you and begins to thrust at a quick but gentle rhythm. In a matter of seconds you were back to a panting mess, clenching tight around his fingers. The sound of his digits inside you filled the room, making you moan louder than before. Ben curls his fingers, as if looking for something.

“Oh, shit,” you curse between harsh breaths when he finds the spot he’s been looking for. You’re a withering heep in no time, nothing but moans and mumbles of Ben over and over again.

“Go on, nice and loud for me good girl.” The praise drives you to let out the loudest moan yet followed by a yell of his name. His fingers rubbed mercilessly against that spot deep inside you, never letting up. The endless waves of pleasure washed over you bringing you close to tears. You were so close, only needing a little more.

“More.” You managed to get out, Ben knew exactly what you needed and brought his thumb to your clit, working on the sensitive nub with the sole mission to make you come. Your core tightens and tightens and you’re a wreck. You arch your back and his fingers continue to stroke and rub until you start to spasm into climax for the second time that night. He carefully removes his fingers as you settle back on the bed. Ben makes his way up the bed via a trail of soft kisses wherever he could reach, and settles down next to you. His lips find their way to your neck and up to your ear where he whispers.

“I have something to confess...about this morning.”

This morning?

“Huh?” You asked in a slight daze.

“At the office.” You could feel his smile against you.

Oh thats right you big dumb slut, you met this man TODAY! UGGHH It’s fine, IT’S FINE, it’s fine.

“Yeah” He propped himself up on one shoulder so he could look at you. You turned your head to look at him. His face was pink and still a bit glisteny from before. His hair, a mess with a single curl hanging over his forehead. His jade green eyes, a few shades darker but bright and shining. His smile, soft, almost shy.

Fuck me up, he is so beautiful

“I umm...i heard you.” His eyes met yours. It took you a minute to realize what he was talking about.

NO! Ok ok ok, it’s fine really. Ok. See what he actually heard.

“Umm, what uh. What are you talking about?” You tried to play it cool but there was no way he didn’t pick up on the panic in your voice and on your face. He laughed, his smile bright and shining.

“Yikes.” He answered.

Ok well that’s not that bad.

The moment flashed in your head.

**“Morgan, who am i talking to today?” You asked looking down at the papers in her hand.

“Uhh…” She flipped through the papers trying to find you an answer. She stopped on one page and read over it quickly before flipping to another until she found it.

“Wow okay, it’s..” She was cut off by the door opening and your boss walked it with the man you were about to interview.

“Oh Y/N perfect, this is Ben Hardy.” He said with a smile and you looked up from the papers to lock eyes with the beautiful blonde actor.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said with a smile and stepped forward with his hand out to shake. His voice had a deep and creamy tone, it wrapped around you like a warm blanket, working its way under your skin where it wreaked havoc on your insides and stole your breath.

“Yikes.” You breathed you out just barely above a whisper. Morgan, standing that close, definitely heard you and her head snapped over to look at you stunned. You were never at a loss, this was really something. Your head was going a million miles a minute.**

“Also wet.” You grounded and he laughed again pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

**“Ready?” You asked Ben with a smile.

“Ready.” He answered and slid his phone back into his pocket. You watched as his eyes moved from the floor, over your body slowly and finally meeting your gaze where he licked his lips and pulled the bottom one between his teeth to bite on before letting it go and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Wet”

“What?”

“What!”

“I thought you said something.” He said a hint of blush covering his cheeks.**

Your hands were now covering your red face. Ben's fingers moved to run through your hair, doing his best to reassure you.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sweets. I only had to go to the toilet because I was half hard. Honestly I was on my way to a full blown boner, I had to leave for a minute.” That made you feel a little better and you lowered your hands enough so you could just peek at him over the tips of your fingers.

“But then… I heard you and Morgan when I came back.”

“BENJAMIN!” You yelled and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. His laugh rang out in the room and he wrapped his arms around you.

**“Uggh stop please. I have never been so embarrassed. He’s so sweet and funny, and the way he talks. Not just the accent but the words he uses and how he carries himself. I just melt at the fuckin thought of him.”

“I wouldn’t be too embarrassed, he’s clearly into you as well.” She said and patted your knee.

“Yeah well if he is, he is doing a much better job of being subtle. I couldn't even tell you what some of his answers were. All I can think about when he talks is how amazing it would be to have him whisper into my neck all the dirty things he wants to do to me while his big strong hands run all over me.”

Morgan opened her mouth to say something but the sound of the door closing caught both of you off guard and you looked to see Ben standing by the now closed door.

“Everything alright ladies?” He asked with a smile and your entire body felt like it was on fire. You were sure your face was beat red.**

“Ok no more embarrassing Y/N! Bang time!” You pulled out of his arms and pushed him on his back.

“Bang time?” He laughed again. “We were just having a cute moment.”

“Yes, well cute moment over. Deal with it.” You said throwing a leg over him to straddle his waist. You leaned down, bringing your lips to his and chuckled through the kiss. His hand tangled in your hair while the other slid down to your hip and squeezed, encouraging you to move over him. You rocked your hips against him and in no time he was matching your rhythm. Your kisses grew messy to the point where you were just panting against each other's mouths. You stopped your hips and gave him a proper kiss before you sat up and began to grind against him again.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned at the new position. His hard cock was lined up with you perfectly, everything slick and hot. Ben's strong hands moved to run up and down your thighs, gripping them tightly along the way.

“My god you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” He moaned. You looked down and saw his bright red face, neck and chest. His hair, a sweaty disheveled mess. You smiled and winked at him.

“Uggh Y/N please! You’re killin me.” He begged with a wide smile. You knew exactly what he wanted. You laughed, slowed your hips and gestured to the bedside table.

“Top drawer blondie”

“Yes!” He cheered and reached back to dig in your drawer.

I love that I can laugh with you

With a triumphant smile on his face he handed you the foil packet and you placed it on him. You leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips before you sat back and lowered yourself onto him. As he slid inside you slowly, you felt every inch of him until he was completely inside you.

“Fuckin hell.” He shuddered out, his hand laid gently on your hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles. You hummed and slowly began to rock back and forth. Once you adjusted to him, he grabbed your hips and started moving you on top of him. You placed your hands on his chest to keep yourself balanced as he gathered speed and power. Soon you were bouncing with the force of his thrusts. Your thighs were burning from trying to stay up.

“Ben.” You gasped.

“Tired?” He asked. Of course he knew, you nodded. He slowed his thrusts and pulled you down so you were flushed against him. He wrapped his strong arms around you and without separating flipped you over. Your legs almost shook with relief.

“You need a minute?” He asked, still holding you close. You took a couple deep breaths before answering.

“Hell no” He laughed and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“That’s my girl.” He winked and with a groan, he sat up and pulled your tired legs up and over his shoulders pushing himself inside deeper. The new angle had his tip pressed up against that perfect spot. It took you by surprise causing your eyes to fly open and your wall clench around him. He let out a low, long grown and hung his head.

“This is going to be over very quickly.” He confessed.

“Then make it rough.” He raised his eyebrows in surprise. It surprised you too but you didn’t regret it.

“Yeah?” He asked, wanting to make sure that’s what you really wanted.

“Give me what you got, lover boy.” He laughed and shook his head.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He placed a soft kiss to the inside of your knee before he started his thrusts again. He built up a good rhythm and then with all his strength pounded into you.

“Fuck yeah” You moaned and had to place your hands agint the headboard to keep from banging your head on it with how hard he was going. His strong hands gripped tight on your hips, holding you as close as possible. You were certain you would have bruises in the morning.

You could feel your core tightening again, signaling you were close to finishing.

“Ben...close” You managed to get out between breaths.

“I’m right there with you love.” He said not letting up on his thrusts. Feeling the coil tighten in your stomach, the sweat beading on your forehead, the air in the room thick and hot, making it hard to breath, you finally released with a shout of his name. Ben soon finished after you continued riding out your high. He gently pulled out and lowered your legs. He cleaned himself and you up with his discarded tank top before laying down next to you to catch his breath. After a few minutes of the two of you just laying their regrouping he spoke quietly while looking up to the ceiling.

“I uhh… also heard you and Morgan before I came into your office.”

** You went back to your office where Morgan was waiting for you.

“Oh my god pleeease tell me something happened after I left.” She begged the second you walked in the door. You laughed and shook your head.

“Seriously!” She groaned.

“I mean, I thought maybe he was going to say something but Max came in and took him to his office."

"Ugh that sucks. I thought for sure he was gonna ask you out or at least throw you up against the wall and make sweet, passionate love to you."

"Morgan!"

"What!?" She laughed and you cracked a smile. You really would be lost without her.

"Knock knock." Both you and Morgan jumped, her knocking the phone off your desk in the process, and turned to your open door to see Ben.**

“MORTIFIED!” You yelled with a laugh and rolled over to kiss him.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #yikes

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heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

Eat the Rich*

Summary: You’re just a girl in a bar way above your tax bracket and Ransom really doesn’t care for what you’re wearing.

A/N: There are no spoilers for the movie. But, there IS... Smut. Dirty talk. Class warfare in the form of hate-fucking. 2.9k words of FILTH. I need to be exorcised for this. Thank you @evanstarff and @tropicalcap for sending me straight to hell.

The entire lounge seems to turn when you enter. Eyes slide back and forth your way, mid-conversation mouths dipping into low frowns. Amidst the old-money frat boys from Cambridge, Beacon Hill Barbie socialites, and Downtown business young bloods, you’re a flagrant contrast in ripped jeans and an old hoodie.

A favorite hoodie. An incendiary hoodie.

The kind of hoodie that is worn with pride around these West End parts. Even the group you arrive with tried to hackle you out of it— bachelorette party decorum, they cried, will you please take that thing off?

Your cousin might be marrying Silverspoon Asswipe and stringing herself up pretty next to all his call-girl friends, but you are a Jamaica Plain girl through and through and you will not stuff yourself into a glitzy cocktail dress before this hoodie.

She waves her hand at the hostess to distract her from your outfit, rustling the satin sash over her glossy sweetheart neckline, “Reservation under Prentiss; it was booked this morning?” And then a sharp look at you as if to say, you made the reservations, right?!

Duh. Your eyes respond when the hostess begins to lead your party back. You follow the tail end of the throng, veering off towards the bar; the miasma of Chanel perfume is enough to gag, and the cigar smoke is only a tiny bit better. Not like they’d care or even notice.

“Do you have PBR?”

The bartender stutters and before you can make him any more uncomfortable, a deep voice from beside you nips it in the bud.

Broad shoulders turn until you see his face. Amused, with a single raised eyebrow, mouth just barely tilting up at one corner. Mid-thirties and extremely well-groomed. Slicked back brown hair and classic Ray Bans hang from the collar of his sweater. Too handsome for his own good with the unmistakable swagger of someone grown up filthy rich.

“She’ll have the Glenfiddich. Neat.”

Certainly smug enough to butt in like you’re old friends.

“Will she?” You ponder defiantly at the pursed lips nestled over a strong jaw.

His own thick crystal glass is easily tipped into his mouth when he takes a too-large swig. Signet rings on two left fingers glimmer, and with a low exhale bordering a growl, he hisses through his teeth, “Yeah. I think you will.”

Bold blue eyes roam over your top and the statement printed there for a second before he scrutinizes your face. Then, purposefully—and knowing that your eyes are on him-- he looks back down to the swell of your chest.

A hum of approval before he faces forward again, only giving you his side profile.

“Wow,” you scoff, “Dick.”

The grin that splits his mouth for a second looks angelic if angels could be full-grown men with full-grown egos to match. “Close. It’s Ransom.”

Amber sloshes when the bartender returns, and you chance a sip because even your pride isn’t stupid enough to pass on a free glass of Glenfiddich.

The whiskey bites for a second before rolling smoothly down your throat. There’s an inherently superior taste to these luxury drinks, but you pull a face all the same, unwilling to give him the satisfaction. Ransom chuckles, head turning just a tad as he looks to you from the corner of his eye.

“You making a statement with that thing on, or what?”

“You’re the one making a statement with that ladies wool scarf from Drake’s.”

Ransom jerks to you fully now, attention snatched by your wit as he leans in, “Where’d you come from, little girl? Not everyone walks into Carver’s dressed in rags.”

He really is a piece of work. When you tell him your neighborhood, as expected, he snorts with disdain, but his eyes fall back on you again, highly intrigued. “There’s more to you, isn’t there? My scarf, that attitude. Someone taught you a thing or two, didn’t they?”

The single-malt mouthful is singing in your veins and if your confidence was thinking about simmering down for a second, it’s forgotten itself inside the furious swirl. The hand around your empty glass clutches just a tiny bit tighter.

“Oh, come on,” Ransom waggles two fingers for another round, “Let’s see, I’m thinking… blue-collar parents, siblings, maybe with shared rooms in your dilapidated Jamaica Plain home?” A tap of his finger to that pink bottom lip too damn pretty to be on his wretched face, he pretends to mull a thought over.

He looks you up and down, taking just enough time to where you feel violated under his gaze, “I know: Public college. Two-year community. Working a day job in Back Bay made you bitter, didn’t it? Hence, statement piece.”

“Asshole,” you snap, unraveling at the seams with rage, and the bartender quickly flits away again, “Full ride to Northeastern, four years with honors. Back Bay can’t fucking afford me.”

You don’t know how he does it, but his derisive silence incenses you even more. He couples it with a slow flick of his tongue over teeth, flagrant staring, and the piercing blue of his eyes spotlight a trail—across your shoulders, down your arm, jumping from your fingertip to your thigh, and then it dips between.

Every inch of your body prickles alive with reaction, so naturally, you spit, “Fuck you.”

Ransom’s smile grows until it nearly looks genuine, but then the sharp points of his canines sink right into your gut.

“When?”

There is something ugly and incredible simmering behind his thick curtain eyelashes. A clear ocean grows stormy, sizzling like a cruel tempest rushing to life. The yellow gaussian blur from dim scone lights suddenly cast shadows over his sharp nose.

He slaps too many bills on the polished ebony and the swish of his scarf flicks over your knee when he stands. Ransom towers over you, light pink flush of inebriation and excitement growing hotter on his sculpted cheeks. He leans in, the open flaps of his overcoat falling around your shoulder, threatening to swallow you inside all his dark.

Low timbre and dusky spice goads, “Put your money where your mouth is, scholarship; that sweater’s not all talk, is it?”

Dick!

Big hands yank the hem up over your head for a second before something changes his mind. The heavy steel door is latched twice over and he’s pushing you into it with his imposing frame. Your skull hits the metal as his knee parts your thigh, leg shoving itself up in-between until you’re on your tip-toes, with nothing to do but land on him. The heat of it rushes all the way up to the top of your head, pouring from your mouth in a choked mewl.

Ransom rucks the top over your breasts until the words scrunch up at your collarbones and you think it must bring him some masochistic satisfaction to know their unforgiving glare:

Eat the Rich

His warning chills your spine.

“I’m gonna fuck that line from your brain. Fuck it right out.”

He yanks everything south of your waist to your ankles and pulls himself free from his pants, effortlessly tearing a condom from inside his leather wallet and slipping it on. Between the time he gets your bare ass on the counter and the sound of the rubber snap, he’s already branded a purple streak onto the side of your neck and you’re embarrassingly wet.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you see his length rising from beneath his cable-knit. Bright pink and angry, and so goddamn thick it makes you whimper. Ransom smothers it with his demanding and hungry mouth, impatient at being empty, stinging with whiskey and force. He’s probably never waited on anything in his life and within a short fifteen minutes of meeting him, you know that to be true.

Not a care in the world is given as goosebumps break out all over your arms.

He spins you into the sink countertop and then the two of you are staring at each other in the mirror’s reflection. His hands return to your hips with a bruising clutch and those thick fingers begin to rub the slick between your folds all over your thighs. Fucking A-- It’s good. Idiot rich boy does have the Midas Touch.

One long leg kicks your jeans completely off, sole of his shoes stomping all over them. He’s unforgivingly large and he knows it because everything about Ransom Drysdale is a statement: his clothes, his attitude, his dick. There’s a joke in here somewhere about him being the very epitome of it, but he’s glaring at you with that pretty bottom lip stretched between perfect white teeth and maybe you can forgive the fact that he’s leaving boot marks all over your jeans and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on your back.

“Tell me,” he teases, slipping one finger in, the metal of his ring pressing up against your clit, “Tell me you’ve had it like this before.”

A slow roll of his hips against your ass, letting the weight of his cock pressed hot and tight between his body and yours. You find yourself inching higher, micro-movements attuned to his, staring but unseeing at his face, buzzing with the raw need to be clenching around more than one finger.

“Not like this, not off Glenfiddich, in Jamaica Plain…”

And without thinking, because there isn’t much to think about, you hiss, “Oh, fuck you!”

Ransom chuckles into your ear because your voice breaks just a tad and he’s going to win this fight. Claws and teeth out sharper than knives, he bites down on your shoulder and slips in another finger. The distinct sensations—soft, slippery, strokes and the sting of his teeth—are scrambling your brain.

He grips himself tight, pushes in with uncharacteristic restraint, and you’re so desperate and aching for it all you can do is push back and pray the sound you might be making isn’t loud enough for everyone in the damn place to hear.

You stifle a grunt with his next languid stroke and Ransom raises an eyebrow, “What? You suddenly shy now?”

It might be just a restroom, but it’s one of the nicest places you’ve ever been inside. Carver’s cigar room’s private single occupancy nook and he’s usurped it to screw you senseless. As if reading your thoughts, he rolls his eyes and continues, glaring at your half-lidded reflection.

“Who gives a shit?” Then, another smirk, “If you’re gonna scream, get my name right.”

Your belly is quivering from the pressure, holding yourself together as best you can before he takes you to pieces. The grooves in his rings cut into your skin. His hand squeezes your neck, fingers crawling up your chin to shove inside your mouth.

Like everything else he’s ever wanted in his life, he’ll own this, too.

And then it’s only punishment. Ransom twists your hair around one fist, other forearm pressing like an anchor on your sternum, wrist shoved through the neckline, hand splayed open and clutching your throat and it goes nearly all the way around. The reflection of your panting mouth and bouncing breasts matching his every thrust is lewd and vile and so goddamn good.

“I bet you fuck on top, don’t you, scholarship?” He releases your throat to pinch your cheeks together, tipping your head derisively, making you nod yourself stupid—awful and humiliating but it unexpectedly thrills.

“Bet you’re too proud to ask.” He makes you nod again, “Bet you want someone to fuck you open just like this—all filthy and sloppy—“

And he doesn’t have to make you agree that time, you’re already limp in expectation and your reflection, damn her, she nods.

He’s still fully dressed, coat swaying to cocoon the both of you in what is probably a hundred thousand dollars. His watch, his rings, his fucking boxers. That stupid cable knit sweater.

A yelp leaks out with your orgasm- unexpected and high and quick, like a wounded animal as you tip your head back onto his shoulder. He doesn’t stop, even for a second. Ransom thrusts deeper, and on the cusp of your second undoing, he licks an errant bead of sweat down the back of your neck.

“You got one more. Yeah, that’s right— one more— God, your pussy loves it. Squeezing me fucking good.” He’s sick. He’s sick and Jesus Christ, aren’t you, too? “Yeah. Push back on my cock. Fuck yourself with it…”

He guides your fingers to your clit with his free hand and begins to rub in motions. Your eyes flutter when he breathes into your ear, “There you go, scholarship, you’ll never get dick this good again—so go ahead and be selfish. I wanna see you all fucked out, fucked stupid, coming all over my dick.”

With two fingers sluiced with your spit, Ransom crams them up next to his cock and you can’t believe how he did it so easily but maybe you can. Yes, filthy and sloppy and never like you’ve had before. Your hands grip the counter top so tightly the tips look white and bloodless and the strained coil inside snaps clean in two.

“Fuck! Oh fuck! God!”

You slump backwards, fingertips to toes shocked tingly numb, boneless and empty of all thought, but he holds you up with ease. Ransom shushes your gasps, paws your breasts and fluttering sternum, runs his hand over your face and throat. The pinch of his fingers returns to your cheeks and he drags his other hand from inside your pussy up into to your mouth. Slick and dripping, a little rubbery from the condom, but otherwise just like yourself.

“Well, look at that. Aren’t you just…”

He pauses to view your blissful face, covered in a sheen layer of sweat, head resting on his shoulder, slanted just enough so that the tip of your nose brushes his jaw. A quick laugh, strangely knowing and a bit sweet or maybe you’re imagining it in your delirium, before he turns cold again.

“Make good on your slogan. Get on your fucking knees.”

His hand looks ridiculous, big and strong and wrapped around the best part of him, completely filthy with you smeared over his fist and you slide to your knees, forehead resting briefly on his knee. His pants have fallen around his ankles, boxers still midway, and you’re so exhausted you can hardly do much more than give him a light kiss to his inner thigh—God knows why—before you peel the rubber off.

It lands into the toilet and you obediently stick out your tongue, still panting to catch your breath as Ransom aims toward your open throat. “There you go,” he groans, fisting himself, “That’s it. Don’t let a single drop go to waste.”

And you don’t.

“So,” your old mentor asks, familiar low drawl of his voice crackling with the tone of a lifelong smoker, “What do you think?”

A hum passes through from your end as you think about all the ways Ransom Drysdale Thrombey pulled you apart and in all the ways you’ll probably think about for at least a couple of months.

“He’s exactly who you think he is.” You rock back and forth on your feet near the curb, “Disrespectful…” Scholarship, Ransom’s voice sneers, “Selfish…” Who gives a shit? “Manipulative.”

Well look at that… aren’t you just… And the glimmer of those big blue eyes half-crazed with lust and control, drinking in your reflection in the mirror, makes you clench up right there in the parking lot.

“You think he’s a killer?” Blanc asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” You reply, “Depends. He takes what he wants when he wants it… Could care less if he burns the world down with him. You divine the rest.”

Benoit Blanc’s frustrated sigh is all the response you expect him to give. This case with the Thrombeys really has gotten him all twisted up. He wouldn’t have called you for a favor if it didn’t. Of course, when he asked you to check Ransom Drysdale Thrombey out, he’ll be at Carver’s tomorrow around ten, he probably had other scenarios in mind…

“Well,” he mumbles, “Thanks again. These people sure are hell to be around. Give the new Prentisses my best, won’t you?”

You say your goodbyes and tuck your phone back into your pocket, shifting with a wince when the soreness between your legs throbs again. With a sigh into the dark autumn night, you shove your hands inside the center pouch of your hoodie, keeping your head low but still wary enough to find your Uber.

Ransom left you in the restroom about ten minutes ago, sitting on your haunches, still trying to remember how your lungs work. Right before the door shut, he had turned around and gave you one last smirk, pointing right at your top with glee. “How’d I taste, baby?”

Blanc needs to be careful, not that he isn’t— because he always is, as nutty as his brain works, he is. But Ransom is the only Thrombey you’ve met and if there are ten more of them… Blanc would do good to watch his ass and maybe get some extra help.

A jangle disrupts the quiet when you begin to play with what you’ve taken. Jagged metal edges. Heavy iconic insignia laying benignly in your palm before you tug it out.

Idiot. Good dick or not, an idiot is an idiot is an idiot— especially his kind. Didn’t even notice you slipped these right out of his coat pocket. You swing the ring around your flexed pointer in swift, angry circles, keys clanging together before your hand shuts it up.

With a hard wind of your arm back, you fling the set long into the night, satisfied when it lands behind a building some distance away.

Ransom Drysdale, you think, enthusiastic smile growing on your face as your ride pulls around the corner, have fun looking for those tonight.

Dick!

Ransom tags: @mermaidxatxheart @dumbubblegum @sapphirescrolls @gothambrat @southerncross47 @bubblegumpeeeach @fiercephantasmagoria @saliarheva @amberakawolfie

Perm tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @infinity-saga @jamesbarnesthighs @pinknerdpanda @xoxabs88xox @imsoft-barnes @momc95 @typicalangel @wretchedgoddess @readeity @iwannasail @ya-lyublu-tebya @geeksareunique @wildefire @satanxklaus @jhangelface0523 @wkemeup @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave

#knives out #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #smut #fanfiction #reader insert #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale thrombey #ransom x you #eat the rich heli0s

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wkemeup · 5 years

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I’m With You (3/3)

series summary: When two strangers meet on a layover in the Charlotte Airport, they find that a lifetime can sit in the span of three days and it doesn’t take very long at all to fall in love. pairing: bucky x reader warnings: super soft!bucky, allusions to PTSD/suicidal thoughts, some familiar faces 🌸series masterlist // series playlist 🌸

T H E G R A D U A T I O N

You lightly tapped on the edge of Bucky’s hotel room door with the toe of your shoe. Carrying two cups of steaming coffee in your hands and your bag tucked under your arm, your hands were completely full. He had texted you at nearly six-thirty in the morning and the vibration of your phone startled you into a panic in mirror with whatever was running through his mind as he all but begged you to meet at the hotel this morning instead of the venue, nearly two hours earlier than planned.

You could faintly hear him stumbling around from the other side of the door, a muffled thud quickly followed by a pained groan as he approached. A smile pushed at your cheeks as he started mumbling to himself, the knob of the door shaking as he tried to open it before remembering the deadbolt was still locked.

Bucky grunted and you chocked back a laugh, though it was quickly wiped from your face as the door swung open to reveal him standing in the frame; shirtless, hair disheveled and damp, bare chest panting and covered in sweat.

“Hey,” he muttered, stepping aside as you looked him down with wide eyes. “Thank God you’re here. I need your help.”

He didn’t seem bothered by his lack of clothing and you swallowed back the racing thumping in your chest, trying to relax your reaction before he could notice how flustered you were. Though, he wasn’t in the mindset to notice much of anything as he rushed around the room, throwing shirts out of the closet and onto the bed, which was already covered in stray clothes. Towels littered the floor from the shower he must have taken earlier and the bedsheets were thrown off the bed and onto the carpet.

Even despite the chaos, it was impossible not to notice the tight ripple of muscles he hid under his shirts. Perfectly sculped as if by God Himself only emphasized by the low hang of the caramel colored slacks around his waist, deep enough to see the V of his pelvis. You shuddered, looking away but your eyes caught onto his left arm.

You already knew about the scars, but seeing them in full almost made your heart give out. Faintly discolored mutilation in the tissue ran up the entirety of his arm, almost as if he’d dipped it in paint, ending at the bridge of his shoulder. It didn’t appear to be painful anymore, but he still kept it hidden under long sleeves. You wondered if he realized it was on display in front of you now.

“Bucky,” you called gently, setting the coffees down on the counter as he started to rake his hands through his hair, clearly panicking.

“I’m freaking out,” he blurted, pacing rapidly, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Okay,” you said calmly, nodding, “why don’t we--”

“Should I wear red?” Bucky asked, completely ignoring you or unable to even hear your attempt to calm him and as he gripped so tightly at his hair, you wondered if he might just pull it out. He stared down at the clothes on the bed like it was a life or death decision. “Red and Black are her school colors. Is that stupid? Maybe it’s too much.”

“Well, maybe you should--”

“I should wear blue! Blue is relaxing, right? It evokes a sense of calm. I read that in an article this morning. Maybe I should wear blue so Bec doesn’t start throwing shit at me the second she sees me.”

“Bucky, hold on a moment--”

“Or- or maybe I should just go with white? It’s simple. Sharp and--”

“Bucky!”

He froze suddenly, the trail of his thoughts dying on the edge of his lips, though he didn’t look in your direction.

You walked forward, slowly, enough not to startle him, and carefully pulled his hands away from the grip on his hair. He didn’t flinch as you touched him and you took it as a good sign, tenderly rubbing your thumb in circles over his wrist until he took notice of you. He softened then, eyes falling to you and letting out a long, steady breath. The tension faded from his muscles the longer he kept your gaze.

“Shit,” he sighed, dropping his stare to the floor and pulling away from you. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t-- I didn’t mean to drag you into my crazy and--”

“You let me drag you into mine, didn’t you?” you challenged, smiling sweetly at him.

He shook his head, unconvinced. “You weren’t completely losing it, Y/n. I can’t even—I can’t even pick out a damn shirt without overanalyzing it! What the hell is wrong with me? I can't face my own family without having a full mental breakdown!”

“I had a panic attack in the middle of my ex’s vows and spent ten minutes crying on your jacket,” you reminded him, gently running your hands up his arms and cupped at his face to draw his attention back to you. “Nothing is wrong with you, Bucky. You just need a little help, okay?”

He nodded slowly, grounding himself through your hands on his cheeks. He let out a deep breath as you pulled away, stepping back just enough to shuffle through the clothes on the bed. After some consideration, you pulled out a forest green button up with subtle white patterns along the fabric. It was light enough that he’d be able to wear it under Georgia heat, even with the long sleeves.

He must have noticed you trailing your hands along the fabric, only touching the ones with sleeves down to his wrist and he smiled softly, wondering how you’d picked up on that so fast.

“Here,” you said, handing him the shirt, “try this.”

Bucky slowly took the shirt from your hands, his fingertips grazing over yours and you shuddered at the feeling. He smiled nervously as he shrugged the shirt on, buttoning it down the middle. He held his arms out to the side, waiting for your opinion.

“It’s almost there but,” you stepped forward, gathering a bit of the fabric at the center by his waist as tucked it into the front of his jeans, tugging a bit on the sides so it flowed nicely, “there you go. Now you’re all set.”

Bucky nodded, checking himself out in the mirror as he stretched his neck to the side. You handed him a pair of brown wing tips and he slid them on his feet without question.

“I’m not sure how I functioned before this weekend,” Bucky chuckled and it was a relief to hear the anxiety drained a little from his voice. He stood up, pressing out a tight smile as he gently gripped your biceps. “Thank you, Y/n.”

You bit on your lip, eyes darting away as he finally took in the sight of you; dressed in a knee length navy dress that held tight to your chest down to the cinch of your waist, and flowed down in loose, breezy fabric with light brown buttons carrying up the center line.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Bucky added, meeting your eye again with a sincerity that dared you to believe him.

You mumbled your thanks, reaching back to the counter to hand him the cup of coffee you bought for him on your way over, trying to avoid the embarrassment as it flooded your cheeks. Bucky didn’t seem to mind your escape and gladly took the coffee from your hand, sighing contently as he took a sip.

“How’d you know my order?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and he took in another gulp.

“That checkers game we played at the airport,” you shrugged, grabbing your own cup from the counter, “it was like the fourth or fifth question I asked.”

“I forgot about that,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Feels like it was a lifetime ago.”

You nodded in agreement, watching him over the brim of your coffee as you took a sip. It was almost as if months or years sat within the confines of a single weekend. From the moment you met him at your gate in the Charlotte airport to eating ice cream on the park bench until two in the morning, he captivated you and drew you in and took over your world unlike anyone else ever had.

He was remarkable and complex and full of a kindness and compassion you struggled to even give to yourself. The idea of losing him after the weekend was over, after the magic of this trip subsided and you were both thrown back to the real world, was too devastating to even think of. So, you helped Bucky clean up his room and let him take your hand as you both walked down the to lobby.

The valet attendant called for a cab and you waited with Bucky on the sidewalk, sipping on your coffee until it was empty and squeezing his hand when you felt him start to get lost in his thoughts again.

Once the cab rolled up, he held the door open for you and let you slide into the seat. Closing it behind you and jogging around to the other side. He sent you a wink as he slid in next to you. He told the driver the address of the ceremony and buckled his seatbelt. With the middle seat open between you, he felt too far away.

“Have you thought about what you’ll say to her?” you asked carefully, watching for his reaction.

He stiffening slightly, nodding as his hands curled into fists. You reached across the seat and placed your hand over his, closing around his palm and he smiled painfully in appreciation.

“Every time I try, I just freeze up,” he admitted, running his free hand down his thighs. “She’s hated me for so long, I don’t even know what to say. It’s been almost six years.”

You sighed as he looked out the window, his jaw visibly clenching as he avoided your eyes in shame. You couldn’t stand seeing him this way, blaming himself and withdrawing from the man who had so selflessly and with a compassion unlike anyone else, saved you from falling into your ex’s trap. He deserved to belief the same things he told you. That he mattered. That he had worth. He didn’t seem to believe it, not when it came to his sister.

Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and scooted closer to him, settling in on the middle seat and holding onto his arm. He turned to you, surprised, though he started to relax again.

“It’s important you know that no matter what happens, she’ll make her own choices and you can’t control how she reacts,” you said gently. He nodded, though it was painful. You squeezed his hand. “You know what you want to say, Buck. I’m sure you’ve been thinking about it for years. I truly hope she comes around and you two can mend things, but I want you to know it’s not your fault if she doesn’t. You’re doing what you can and you’ll keep doing it until she’s ready. The rest is up to her, okay?”

It was silent for a moment as Bucky took in your words. You gave him the time he needed to think, sitting comfortably with the music playing softly from the front seat as you leaned on his shoulder, staring out the windshield to the busy Atlanta traffic.

“Okay,” Bucky said after a while, letting out a shaky breath. He pushed out a smile for you, though it struggled to meet his eyes, but you could tell he was trying.

Twenty minutes later as the cab pulled up to the auditorium, Bucky’s arm was draped around your shoulders, your hand resting on his thigh and rubbing soft circles to keep him grounded. He mentioned once that the physical contact was helpful for him, something his therapist down at the VA had suggested when he first got back. It was why he was so eager to grab your hand, though he promised it was your hand specifically he liked holding.

“Ready?” you asked as Bucky slipped cash through the window to the driver up front. He slumped back into his seat, but he did eventually nod.

“Not sure I’ll ever be as ready as I am right now,” he said, squeezing your hand. “Thank you, again for, uh, for coming with me.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek and he smiled back at you. Waiting a moment too long just staring at one another, the driver tapped on the window, pulling your attention away and gestured for you to get out of the car.

Bucky mumbled a quick apology as you started to laugh and followed him out of the car. Hand in hand, he led you up the grand stairs and into the building filled with families and friends and students dressed in bright red gowns and caps.

“My Ma said she’s got seats,” Bucky said, pushing through the crowd and keeping you as close as possible.

“She knows I’m coming, right?” you asked nervously, just now realizing that helping Bucky through this family event meant actually meeting his family.

“Um, not exactly,” Bucky mumbled, squeezing you buy a couple gathered on the walkway as he led you up the stairs. You didn’t even have time to object because he waved at a woman sitting at the edge of a row. With dark brunette hair sweeping at her shoulders and soft blue eyes that lit up the moment she caught sight of him, it was no wonder Bucky was her son.

“There’s my boy,” she cooed, standing up to hug him tightly around the shoulders. She pulled back, squeezing at his cheeks as he tried to swat her away. “Handsome as ever.” She glanced over Bucky’s shoulder to you as you held your hands clasped tightly together and chewing on the edge of your lip. “Who’s this? I didn’t know you were bringing a guest, James.”

James?

“Y-yeah, sorry about that ma. Last minute arrangements,” he stumbled out, scratched at his neck and eyes flickering over to you. “This is, um, this is my, my friend. Y/n.”

Bucky's mom smiled sweetly, eyeing you as you extended a hand to her.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” you said as she pushed your hand aside and pulled you in for a hug. You glanced at Bucky over her shoulder and he grimaced in apology, but you didn’t mind much. She was kind, something you’d expect from the woman who raised such a man.

“Well I’m glad you came, Y/n,” she said, smiling wide before she sent a knowing look at Bucky. “It’s been quite a while since you’ve brought a ‘friend’ around, James.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his cheeks turned as red as the gowns of the students as they gathered down by the stage. You laughed, biting on your tongue when he glared helplessly in your direction, though your smile was still present.

“Jesus, ma,” he grumbled, grabbing your hand and guiding you past his mother to sit on the bench. Luckily there was enough room as his uncle had to skip for a work commitment.

He took a seat next to you, sitting between you and his mother, as he greeted the rest of his family with a short wave. He seemed uncomfortable, like he’d been avoiding his extended family for about as long as he had his sister. The only person he seemed calm around was his mom.

“You alright?” you asked quietly into his ear so only he could hear. He nodded, though he was clenching at his knees, wrinkling his slacks from the constant gripping on the fabric.

You wanted to reach for his hand but you weren’t sure what he wanted, seeing as his mother was right next to him and you imagined he didn’t want to lie to her the way he’d lied to Jack and Marci at the wedding. It was one thing pretending you were together to get through the wedding of your ex, but another thing entirely to lie to family about it.

It didn’t seem to register that you’d also held his hand in intimate moments when no one else was around, when there was no show to put on.

As the students lined into the seats and faculty took their place on the stage, you could feel Bucky tensing beside you. His eyes were downcast, staring at his shoes as his whole upper body rose and fell with every breath. His mother started to talk with the family in the row ahead and you took the opportunity to rub your hand along his back in slow, steady circles.

He flinched at the sudden touch, though he started to melt when he realized it came from you. He nodded, smiling tiredly at you as if it took most of his effort and he sank back in his seat.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” he mumbled under his breath, jaw clenched as he looked at you for a moment, shame heating in his cheeks. “You must think I’m pathetic...”

You shook your head, grabbing his hand and holding it in the space between you, tucked between his thigh and yours so it wasn’t easily noticeable. “I would never think that, Bucky, and you don’t have to apologize. I know this is hard for you. It’s been six years. But you’re not alone. I’m with you, remember?”

He nodded, neither of you realizing the ceremony had even begun as the president took the podium.

“You’re gonna be just fine, James,” you teased, hoping to draw a smile out of him and it came easier than you anticipated. He nudged your shoulder, chuckling slightly as the tension drained from him.

“Middle name’s Buchanon,” he clarified with a shake of his head.

“Well that clears everything up then,” you replied sarcastically, which made him laugh again and you swore you could have spent hours listening to the sound. You kept his hand held firm in your own up until the moment his mom sat back in her seat and you started to let go, but he gripped on tighter, sending you an apologetic look you only returned with a genuine smile.

Nearly an hour passed by before the first graduates began to walk the stage. It wouldn’t take long for his sister to cross the stage, you realized, after he told you his last name was Barnes. He fidgeted in his seat the whole time, glancing down at the row of red gowns as students lined up in rows. They were starting to get to the end of the ‘A’s and Bucky’s mother patted his knee lightly, smiling at him.

“She’s on the stairs,” his mother said, pointing excitedly to the young women with short brown hair at her shoulders in soft waves appearing on the video projection. She was standing behind four people leading to the stage.

“She cut her hair,” Bucky observed, voice low, nervous.

“She’s had it like that since last year,” his mom replied and though she didn’t mean for it to be a dig at her son, Bucky still cringed, blaming himself for how much he’d missed in his sister’s life, even something as simple as a haircut.

Two more to go and Bucky jaw was practically wired shut. You leaned in closer to him.

“She looks really happy,” you said, trying to ease him but he remained stiff as a board.

“She doesn’t know I’m here yet,” he muttered back, defeated. “That’ll change.”

Your heart sank. As his name sat on the edge of your lips, his mother jumped up to her feet, gesturing for the family to get ready. You pressed your lips together, knowing there’d be time to ease him later as you helped pull him up.

“Rebecca Jane Barnes,” the announcer called and the family erupted into applause. She walked across the stage, waving out into the audience with a beaming smile on her face, gown flowing with each step.

You glanced up at Bucky as she took her diploma and posed for the mandatory picture, and he had relaxed somewhat, a soft smile on his face as the rest of the family hollered and waved enthusiastically. His hand was still gripped in yours and he squeezed it as Rebecca left the stage.

As the family took their seats again, Bucky’s mother nudged his side, getting his attention. “Three hours just to see 30 seconds. What a con!”

He laughed at that, more at ease now. His mother must have noticed.

“Why don’t you and Y/n head back to the house,” she suggested, glancing over at you with a sweet kind of smile and her eyes flickered down to your hands clasped together, though she didn’t say anything. “Just make sure everything's in order for the party. We’ll be home in an hour or so.”

Bucky nodded, pressing a kiss to his mother's cheek before squeezing by her. He didn’t bother letting go of your hand as he helped you through the aisle and down the stairs, keeping you steady on your heels.

Once the two of you made it through the tunnel and back into the open lobby of the auditorium and the speaker announcing student names was only a muffled echo, Bucky let out a heavy breath.

“Shit,” he sighed in relief, a slight laugh in his tone. “I promise I’m not always that much of a mess.”

You shrugged, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked outside. “Maybe I like a little mess.”

Bucky bit down on his lip to suppress the smile aching in his cheeks.

***

The cab pulled up to an off-white paneled home in the suburbs with dark green shutters and flower beds lining the walls; green shrubbery and evidence of a basketball hoop that had once been affixed above the garage once, where a faint discoloration was left behind. A banner hung over the front door reading ‘CONGRATULATIONS’ with tiny cartoon confetti, diplomas, and graduation caps sprinkled in the background.

Bucky scooted out of the cab, ordering you to stay put with a teasing grin as he ran around the back to try and open the door for you, but you were too fast for him. Though, he still helped you to your feet, even if you’d beaten him to the door.

From the open garage, where folding tables were already set up with red and black tablecloths held under stones on the corners, a tall blonde-haired man waved, wide grin spreading on his face.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted, laughing as excitement and surprise started to take over. He took one glance at you, asking permission, and you smiled, letting go of his hand and shoving him towards his friend. They collided in a tight hug and a few pats on the back before he said, “I didn’t know you were gonna be in town!”

“Didn’t you borrow that suit from him yesterday?” you asked with a raised eyebrow as you walked up behind them.

Steve smiled, exchanging a knowing look with Bucky whose cheeks immediately reddened. “He stole it from my mom’s house. She moved down here a few years back, right after Mrs. Barnes and Rebecca, and she seems to have an unfortunate habit of holding onto my old clothes. Must be nostalgia or something.”

“Where’s Peg?” Bucky asked quickly, noticing the way Steve was eyeing you like he knew something you didn’t.

“Inside finishing up the fruit salad,” Steve smiled, glancing back to the window of the kitchen where you could barely make out the figure of a brunette woman pacing back and forth as she peeled an apple with the sharp end of a knife. Steve tucked his hands into his pockets, grinning, though he turned his attention back to you. “You must be the poor woman Bucky here dragged into his ridiculous layover shenanigans.”

You laughed, extending you hand to him with a nod as Bucky wacked his friend on the shoulder, face heating red. “Yeah, guess that’s me. I’m Y/n.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve grinned, earning another hit from Bucky though he was able to dodge it in time, “Bucky won’t shut up about you.”

“Really?” you teased and Bucky bit tirelessly on his lip, shaking his head.

“Steve’s being dramatic,” he tried to tell you, though you could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

“If that helps you sleep at night, pal.” Steve fought off another attack from Bucky only for the brunette woman you’d seen in the kitchen to lean out the window, waving a towel with a disapproving look on her face.

“If you boys are finished, I could use some help!” she called, thick English accent surprising you, though she softened immediately upon seeing you. Steve must have spread the news to her as well.

You stood with Bucky in the driveway for a moment longer as Steve jogged his way back up the driveway to the front door. Bucky sighed heavily next to you, swaying on his feet and tucking his hands deep into his pockets.

“Steve’s a dirty liar,” he mumbled, a teasing smile brimming on his lips as he glanced over at you. “Sorry about all that.”

“Don’t apologize,” you shrugged, smiling back at him, “he seems like a good friend.”

“The best,” Bucky confirmed with a nod, “even if he’s a pain in my ass.”

You followed Bucky up to the front porch and waited as he opened the door for you. Stepping inside, the entrance way smelled of freshly baked cookies and a vanilla candle burning in the living room. Peggy was pacing with purpose around the kitchen, an apron pressed over the soft flow of her dress, hair curled and pulled back from her face, when she spotted you. Jumping away from Steve’s arms, she quickly crossed the room and pulled you in for a hug.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said, as if she’d been hearing about you for months rather than a day or so. You returned the embrace, thinking fondly that she was warm and comforting, and when she pulled back, you were met with a huge smile. She leaned in close, enough so that no one but you could hear her and said, “Bucky hasn’t smiled a lot in the last few years. It’s nice to see him happy. I hope we don’t lose that in him anytime soon.”

It wasn’t a threat, but an ounce of hope.

“Me, too,” you replied quietly and the bright red of her lips pushed even higher up her cheeks.

“Come on, now,” she said, wiping her hands on the thigh of her apron, “we’ve got some work to do before everyone arrives.”

***

It didn’t take long for the home to be flooded guests once the first ones rang the bell. The Barnes, it seemed, were a well-known family within the community and nearly half the town showed up to congratulate Rebecca on her graduation.

It took Bucky a moment to warm up, but soon enough he was smiling and joking with old friends out in the back yard alongside Steve, a can of half empty beer in his hand, while you talked with Peggy in the garage by the massive line up of snack foods.

You plopped another barbeque meatball onto your plate, cutting it in half and letting the steam seep out as Peggy watched you curiously. She was certainly intimidating for a woman with soft curved hair and bright red lipstick, and she had about a thousand questions for you, but you never once felt like you were under interrogation. She clearly cared about Bucky and was interested to know the woman that supposedly brought his smile back.

She’d told you that Bucky had been lost for a few years, retreating within himself after he came back from his second tour overseas. Something happened over there, though he wouldn’t say what, and with Rebecca shutting him out, he closed himself off completely. Though he never turned to a bottle or something darker to ease his suffering, he also never asked for the help he so clearly needed.

It surprised you to imagine the charming, carefree man who so easily came to your defense in the Charlotte airport, who bought you fresh coffee and snacks, and insisted on doing cartwheels at midnight had been in such a dark place. Peggy told you she hadn’t seen him truly smile with wrinkles up by his eyes and a laugh in his breath since before the war. You weren’t quite sure what to make of that, but the soft smile she gave you as she squeezed your hand, almost in thanks, was comforting.

“Did Peggy tell you about the time Bucky skinny-dipped in the lake behind our high school principal’s house?” Steve teased, jumping up from behind Peggy with a refill of her drink in his hand as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Will you ever shut up about that, punk?” Bucky grumbled, pressing his lips into a thin line as he came up to stand next to you.

“I don’t know, Buck, it’s a story I think I’d like to hear,” you grinned, nudging at his side and he chuckled under his breath.

“Maybe another time, doll.”

Another time. You liked the sound of that.

Bucky’s arm draped over your shoulder and you wondered if he realized he was doing that in front of his friends; the weight of his arm against you, tugging you close to his side and breathing in the comforting smell of him laced with freshly mowed lawn and the tang of beer on his breath.

You parted your lips to tease him, especially after seeing the knowing glance between Steve and Peggy as they noticed Bucky’s ease with which he carried himself around you, but then, a hush fell over the crowd.

“She’s here!” someone shouted, and you felt Bucky jolt beside you.

The crowd rushed to the driveway to greet the car as it pulled in, but you kept yourself planted firmly at Bucky’s side. He didn’t attempt to pull away from you but you could feel the tension aching his in his muscles, his stare frozen on the ground by Steve’s feet, and his heart picking up in pace.

You nodded to Steve and Peggy, letting them know that you’d take care of Bucky while they went to greet Rebecca and her mother as they walked in. The apprehensive look on Steve’s face didn’t slip your notice as Peggy smiled sweetly at you, tugging him away despite his reluctance.

Once the garage had cleared out and the crowd made its way into the open area of the first floor where Rebecca was about to walk through the front door, you turned to Bucky, letting his arm fall away from your shoulders. You reached up, grabbing a firm hold of the sides of his face.

“Bucky, look at me,” you ordered, stern and gentle at the same time. He did. Blue eyes flickering back and forth, panicked. You brushed your thumb along his cheekbone. “You can do this, alright? I know it’s scary, but she’s your sister. Under it all, she loves you. You know that. Tell her what you have to. It’s up to her if she’s ready to hear it.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing thickly and he pushed out a semblance of a smile. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“Of course,” you replied, removing your hands from his face and letting them fall to your sides, bunching into the fabric of your dress. “I told you I’d be here to support you, didn’t I?”

Bucky’s smile brightened at that. He extended his hand to you, a request, and you took it without hesitation. The two of you made your way into the kitchen from the garage to find the area packed wall to wall with guests. Bucky paused at the edge of the crowd, losing his nerve for a moment, but as you squeezed his hand, he gained some back, enough to push his way through.

Rebecca was standing at the center of the living room dressed in her bright red robes unbuttoned down the middle, worn like a coat, and a fitted white dress underneath. She was smiling, laughing as guests came forth to hug her and congratulate her, handing over gifts and envelopes and asking what she had planned next.

You spotted Steve and Peggy at the front of the crowd, standing on the edge of the circle. Then, you saw Bucky’s mother, who sucked in a deep breath at the sight of Bucky making his way closer, though she relaxed somewhat as she spotted your hand wrapped tightly in his.

Rebecca stood at the center of the open circle, her back to Bucky as he broke through the crowd of people and stepped into the open space with her. She didn’t realize he was there just yet but a lull came over the crowd. They all knew the strained history between the siblings, it seemed.

Bucky released your hand, knowing this was something he had to do on his own and you stepped back into the circle, though you moved to stand by Peggy and Steve, determined to stay within his line of sight, just in case.

Slowly, Rebecca narrowed her eyes, glancing around the room to find everyone staring at something beyond her shoulder. She turned around, confused, until her eyes landed on her brother and the smile fell from her face, features hardening over and jaw clenching so tight the muscle spasmed in her cheek.

“Hey Bec,” Bucky said, his voice low, pained, and you could practically feel his heart pounded from across the room. His eyes flickered over to you for half of a second and you nodded at him, smiling softly, encouragingly, before he turned back to his sister.

She handed the envelopes in her hand off to her mother before she took a step forward.

“What are you doing here?”

Shock. Anger. Betrayal as she shot daggers at her mother. You couldn’t tell which stung the most.

Bucky swallowed anxiously, his hands pushing into his pockets as you noticed the slight tremor while he tried to hold them at his sides. It was obvious how much he cared for his sister, how much guilt he allowed to weigh upon his shoulders, how much he just wanted to make things right again. Perhaps it was only obvious to everyone but his sister.

“Bec,” Bucky said softly, taking a step forward and wincing as she retreated back, keeping the distance between them. “I know it’s been a while, but I wanted to be here for you, to support you. This is, uh, this is a big day for you and I thought maybe we could make things--”

“What?” Rebecca snapped, unaffected by the whispers of the crowd. Bucky flinched. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Bec, I--”

“Did you think you were just going to waltz right in here like everything was just fine? Like you didn’t abandon this family to fight in a goddamn war no one asked you to take part in!” she shouted, and you could hear the pain in her voice, angry and grieving.

Bucky’s jaw was clenched so tightly you wondered if it would stay locked that way forever.

“You left us, James!” Rebecca accused, pointing her finger at him, “You made that choice! After all the Army put you through and after watching your friends die and getting your arm ripped to shreds, you went back!”

Bucky’s face was flushed red, eyes darting at the carpet; like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs. You hated seeing him like this, so easily giving into the guilt of allowing his sister to push him away for so long. He shook his head, like a counter argument was racing through his mind but he didn’t voice it aloud. He let her yell, let her get out what she needed to say.

This was his plan, you realized, to let her say all the things she never had the chance to scream and fight with him about when he came home again because she had cut him out completely. They never had this confrontation. It only seemed fitting to have it with a full audience.

Guests started to back away into the kitchen, some escaping out to the yard, though others stayed to watch, too caught up in the tension hanging in the air and the thrill of the drama between siblings.

“You have no right to be here!” Rebecca shouted, picking up a pillow from the couch and chucking it harshly at Bucky’s chest, though he blocked it with his forearm, letting it fall with a soft bounce to the floor. She threw another, and another, and whatever she could get her hands on. “I told you I didn’t want to see you again! I meant what I said! You knew this would happen if you left and you did it anyway!”

Bucky took a deep breath, starting to grow frustrated with the amount of pillows he was dodging. His eyes flickered over to you in a brief moment and you nodded, knowing he was seeking the courage to say what he had been thinking for the last few years. Consequences be damned.

“And you!” Rebecca turned to her mother, who watched with wide, pained eyes, “why the hell would you let him--”

“Enough!” Bucky roared, silencing the room instantly. “This isn’t mom’s fault, so leave her out of this. This fight is between us.”

Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow and waiting for him to continue.

“What happened to us, Bec?” Bucky started, his voice softening. “We used to be so close. I hate that I can’t talk to you about what’s going on in my life anymore. I’ve had your number dialed up on my phone dozens of times in the last few years, but I’ve never had the damn courage to call. We used to talk about everything. You always knew when I was fighting with Steve. You knew when some girl was breaking my heart. You knew about every dead-end job I had up in Brooklyn and how much I hated that you and Ma moved down to Atlanta without me.”

You watched Rebecca as she kept her face blank, emotionless, not giving into an ounce of the pain Bucky was putting on full display.

“I don’t know what your first year at school was like,” Bucky continued, shaking his head, disappointment in his voice. “I don’t know how quickly you made friends or what your favorite classes were. I only know your major because Ma told me. I feel like we’re strangers, Bec. I want things to be better, how they used to be. I miss my sister. I miss having my family.”

“Yeah, well you made that choice, didn’t you?” Rebecca snapped back and your heart broke as Bucky closed his eyes, the devastation so evident on his face, you wanted nothing more than to whisk him away from this.

“Bec, please, just listen to me--”

“I want you to leave.”

Bucky’s shoulders slumped, his eyes glancing over at his mother desperately before they returned to his sister. “Bec, come on. Don’t do this.”

Rebecca just rolled her eyes and suddenly, Bucky was gritting his teeth. You felt Peggy’s hand on your wrist, keeping you grounded as you must have looked about as distressed as you felt just watching the full of Bucky’s pain and insecurity rushing to the surface.

But there was something else, too.

Something like anger.

“I get that you’ll never understand why I went back after everything that happened,” Bucky said, his voice low but defiant. Determined. A new kind of strength in his words. “I could have died. I know that, but it was part of the risk. I’m sure you probably think that by going back, I was just throwing my life away and you know what? Maybe I was.”

Rebecca shifted in her stance. She hadn’t expected that, but her features remained stern.

“Maybe being state-side was hell for me because I watched friends die over there. I lost my purpose when I came home and I didn’t know how to just be some normal civilian and go to a day job when I’d spent years sleeping on rubble and dodging bullets. So, yes, I went back the second I was cleared to. I needed to prove to myself that what happened over there didn’t break me. I had to go back for my friends who died in a blast that should have killed me, too.”

The room was painfully silent. You swore you could hear your own heart pounding in your chest.

“But honestly, Bec, with you cutting me off like this,” Bucky shook his head, “what fucking difference would it have made if I had just died over there? Wouldn’t have mattered to you, would it? Maybe I should have. It would have been easier for all of us.”

Rebecca stiffened instantly, blank faced and shocked, while his mother gasped in a shaken breath, hands darting up to cup at her lips as someone behind her held her steady.

Rebecca’s arms fell to her sides, a wave of something like remorse and pain rushing to replace the anger etched into her expression and she tried to take a step forward but Bucky held a hand up defensively. It was then he started to notice the crowd of onlookers that had witnessed his confrontation with his sister, who had heard him admit to the worst of his thoughts in the back of his mind.

Without another word, he turned his back and pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside strangers gathered to watch the moment he’d been dreading for years fall apart in front of him.

You didn’t waste any time before you rushed after him, keeping a close eye on his shoulder blades as he weaved through the guests. They parted like the sea for him, knowing better than to confront him or stand in his way as he made his escape. You waited until he stepped outside, into the empty garage before you called his name.

He turned around, surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to follow him and the moment he caught sight of you, saw the concern in your eyes and the way your hand reached up to touch his arm, he broke down. Tears welling in his eyes and lips trembling, you grabbed a tight hold of his hand, leading him silently to the front lawn, away from prying eyes and eased him down to sit on the porch steps. He came willingly, head leaning against your shoulder as you draped your arm across his legs, rubbing soothing patterns against his thighs.

You could feel the wet of his tears on your skin and the slight tremble in his body, but you didn’t say anything. He needed this moment of release, to let out years of frustration and anger and loss he had been suffocating for so long. Only when he swallowed back the last of his tears, sniffling and pulling away from your shoulder to sit up straight, did you tell him exactly what you thought.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “I fucked it all up. Again.”

“You got out what you needed to say,” you reminded him as you gathered his hand in your own. He sighed at the touch, relieved. “Maybe it didn’t go how you wanted but it was never going to be fixed in one conversation. You knew that. It’ll take time.”

He nodded, watching the way you traced against the lines in his palm. “Maybe things’ll just never be okay with us. Maybe I just fucked everything up for good.”

“Oh, Bucky,” you sighed, cupping the side of his face and urging him to look at you. You were met with pools of deep blue with red strain filling the whites of his eyes, and a hard clench in his jaw. “I don’t think--”

“Did you mean what you said?” a voice suddenly asked from behind you; soft, nervous, and Bucky’s breath hitched.

You turned slowly to find Rebecca standing in the frame of the door, looking down at Bucky with her lower lip trembling. She gripped the knob so tightly her knuckles were sheet white. Bucky didn’t say anything. You suspected he didn’t know how.

“You really think I would have rather you died?” she asked, her voice cracking as tears burned in her eyes.

You watched as Bucky stumbled over his words before they could even pass by his tongue. Glancing up at Rebecca, you offered her a soft smile, encouraging her to continue, before you turned to Bucky, placing a kiss to the back of his hand, just along the knuckles, before you stood.

“Wait. Don’t go,” he whispered, voice so small it nearly broke your heart. He held a tight grip on your hand.

“You’ve got this. Just talk to her. I won’t be far,” you said softly into his ear, just loud enough only he could hear you. You let your hand graze along his cheek, sweet soothing motions, until he nodded and you pulled away. You nodded at Rebecca and she pushed out a semblance of a smile in appreciation as she stepped down to take a seat next to her brother.

Giving them the space to talk, you made your way over to the garage where some of the guests had begun to gather around the tables of food. No one seemed to pay attention as Bucky and Rebecca talked quietly away from the crowd. You could see his lips moving, her head nodding subtly as he spoke and he wiped at his eyes. She did, too.

You let out a heavy breath, leaning against the edge of the garage, content to just watch. They sat there together for nearly twenty minutes before you decided to seek out Peggy and Steve out in the back yard huddled around a bonfire, holding onto each other smiling with a kind of joy you always imagined for yourself. You decided to leave them be.

When you found your way back to the driveway, Bucky and Rebecca had disappeared from their place on the steps. You narrowed your eyes, walking around the house a bit until you spotted the soft wave of Bucky’s hair through the window. He was standing in the kitchen, talking with his mother and Rebecca stood only a few feet away, a careful smile on her face as she nodded along to whatever he was saying. After a moment, he gestured towards her and she came willingly, through apprehensively, as he hugged her from the side. It was one-armed and timid, and incredibly awkward, but they pulled away with hope in their eyes. His mother was crying.

Smiling to yourself and thankful you could give him the support he needed to face this day after all he’d done for you at Jack’s wedding, you started to find yourself stepping back until you reached the edge of the driveway.

He didn’t need you anymore. The magic of the weekend was over and you’d both go back to your separate lives. It was all this weekend was meant to be. Some kind of whirlwind fantasy. It wasn’t ever meant to last.

You wondered if maybe you’d ever run into him in New York. He had mentioned he grew up in Brooklyn. It was a big city, after all. Maybe it would be best if you never ran into piercing blue eyes and kind smiles again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to let him go a second time.

You reached into your bag, searching for your phone to call for a Lyft. You stared at the app for a few minutes before you accepted. The sun was on its way down and most of the guests had retreated inside to escape the dark and the bugs at dusk. A chill swept over you and you crossed your arms, glancing down the end of the road in search of your ride.

“Y/n!”

You turned around, heart skipping a beat, to find Bucky stepping out into the garage, heading turning out to the back lawn in search of you, though he came up empty. He jogged away from the back door, thinking you must be inside, when he caught sight of you standing at the end of the driveway.

“Y/n?” His voice was quieter now, confused, and he jogged down to meet you as you waved awkwardly. “What are you doing? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He glanced down to the phone gripped in your hand. The notification that your driver would be here in only a few minutes plastered across the screen. His shoulders fell.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, a sad ache in his voice you weren’t expecting.

You shrugged, nodding. “Yeah, well I saw you seemed to work things out with your sister, or, you’re at least on the right path– and I’m really happy for you, Bucky, honest, I am – but you don’t exactly need me here anymore, so I thought I should just--”

“What makes you think I don’t need you?”

You froze. “What?”

“Well, the guests are about to start clearing out in a few and Steve’s convinced us to bring out Pictionary again like we used to play in the old days and I’m going to need a partner,” he said casually, pursing his lips like it was a last minute thought and not something he had been thinking about all day. “Besides, I wanted to thank you for this weekend. Just think about the shitstorm we both would have gone through alone if you hadn’t spilled your coffee all over that pretentious asshole.”

You chuckled despite yourself, nodding. “He technically spilled my coffee on himself.”

“Right, of course,” Bucky grinned.

He glanced back at the kitchen to find Rebecca was washing dishes at the sink. She must have noticed him watching her and she raised a hand hesitantly to wave and Bucky couldn’t contain the smile pushing on his cheeks as he waved back. It was progress.

“I don’t want to intrude, Bucky. This seems like a family thing,” you said, awkwardly scratching at the nape of your neck. “Besides, I don’t want to give them the wrong idea, you know? It’s one thing to lie to my ex-boyfriend and his horrible friends I will hopefully never see again, but this is your family, Bucky. I don’t want to make them think that--”

“What? That I like you?” Bucky interrupted, a soft smile on his face as your eyes widened. He chuckled under his breath, taking a step forward and letting his hands run up the sides of your arms, warming you. “I meant what I said that night in the airport and out on the patio at the wedding. I want to see you again, Y/n, if you’ll let me. I want to go out on a date that doesn’t include one of us facing serious emotional turmoil and crying all night.”

You laughed at that and Bucky’s smile only got wider.

“Please, stay,” he asked again. “I promise we’ll destroy Steve and Peggy, though we might have to go easy on Ma and Bec given the circumstances.”

“She won’t go easy on you,” you countered, grinning.

“We’ll give her round one and then we’ll come at everyone full force. How’s that sound?” he conceded, his right hand moving from your shoulder to cup at the side of your face.

You leaned into him, nodding as you smiled, aching to feel more of his hands; warm and calloused, strong and tender. Reaching up to hold his wrist, your thumb tracing along the bone of his joint, content to sit with the silence of the crickets chirping around you and the soft light of the kitchen extending down the driveway.

Bucky brushed away a hair fallen out of place, using his hand on your cheek to carefully urge you closer to him. There was too much space between you, always too much space, and as your eyes flickered down to pink lips you had kissed the night before, you couldn’t stand the anticipation.

You pushed yourself up against him, arms wrapping around his neck as your lips brushed his; slow at first, timid and testing the waters, until it deepened to something more and Bucky’s hands traveled down your back and clung to your waist.

His lips were unlike anything else. Though, you supposed so was he.

This man with the kind smile and blue eyes that could knock you off your feet, who hummed off key with a voice like honey, and offered to buy you coffee after some middle-aged man in a suit screamed at you in the airport. This man, who did cartwheels at midnight and tracked you down at Jack’s wedding after he realized how alone you felt. This man, who cared so deeply for those he loved that he agonized and berated himself for years over his strained relationship with his sister.

You pulled back for air when you realized your ride was still on its way. Bucky only let you go reluctantly, his lips connecting with your cheek, your forehead as you fumbled to open the app and cancel the ride. He snatched the phone from your hands with a teasing smirk when you were taking too long and did it himself, tossing the phone into your bag. His hands found their way back to your cheeks and he pulled you in for another kiss.

“Let’s go, kids!” Steve called from the front door and you broke away from Bucky laughing, face pressed against his chest. “You can make-out some other time when I’m not about to decimate you in Pictionary!”

“Shut the hell up, Rogers!” Bucky called back, though he was laughing, arms circled around your shoulders as you hid your blushed face against him. He shook his head, looking down at you and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “What do you say, doll?”

“Guess we better show Steve who's boss,” you replied, face stern, serious, until you broke out into a smile.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” Bucky grinned, leading you back up the driveway. As the light from the kitchen illuminated his face, you started to laugh, quickly pulling him to a stop and rubbing at the lipstick mark on the corner of his lips. He jolted away. “Hey! Maybe I like that there...”

“You want to give Steve more ammunition against you right now?” you laughed, only letting your hand fall when you were certain you got the last of it, but Bucky swept in and kissed you again. “Bucky!”

“Okay, okay!” he surrendered, thought he stole a final kiss against your forehead before he held the door open for you, gesturing for you to take the first step inside.

You followed in behind him, his hand wrapped around yours and a beaming smile on your face you couldn’t seem to shake.

This weekend was meant to be filled with tears and the bottom of a bottle, with heartbreak and shame at the hands of your ex. But instead, it was made of adventures in Charlotte Douglas at midnight and dancing your way through the worst wedding invite you’d ever accept and attending a college graduation of a stranger’s estranged sister.

It was chaos and escapism. It was a leap of faith and unbridled joy. It was learning that you were more than what someone else thought of you and it was finding yourself again. It was crying on one another and facing the worst of your fears. It was unquestioned support. It was mint-chocolate chip ice cream at two in the morning and overly competitive Pictionary. It was holding hands with the man with startling blue eyes and kissing him in the dark.

It was Bucky Barnes.

The handsome stranger in the airport.

Leaning on somebody isn't easy I'll do what I can to make you see that This is not a temporary love This is not a temporary love Now your heart is in my hands, I won't give it up This is not a temporary love

[Temporary Love – Ben Platt]

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #marvel

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otomefoxystar · 4 years

Text

A Time for Happiness

Fandom: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder

Pairing: Eisuke X MC

Warning: NSFW

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 2,133

Written by: @otomefoxystar

Red rose petals adorned the floor of the chapel when canon in D started playing. She walked down the aisle arm in arm with her father. Her dress dragged behind her, and she smiled nervously. Her father lifted her veil and smiled softly at her, kissed her cheek, and gave her hand to Eisuke who was in awe of how beautiful she looked. He took her hand and stood facing her holding her feminine hands. Once they said their I do’s and sealed it with a tearful kiss, they walked cheerfully down the aisle to outside the cute chapel. They looked at each other and laughed. A white limousine waited outside. They held hands the whole way and chatted. He kept her talking because he knew she’d be nervous, they had never spent a night together in all the years they’ve been together she had kept him at an arm’s length. Hell, he was nervous it had been so long since he’d been with anybody, but his right hand. He had respected her wishes and didn’t touch her. Of course, he had to carry her to the hotel room he wanted to make this magical for her. He placed her on her feet once they were in the magnificent hotel room. She kissed him on the lips and laughed. He started undoing her hair and it rippled down her shoulders. “ Let me help you get out of this dress” her eyes widened “ I can do it myself” he chuckled “ no you can’t, just turn around” He started unbuttoning the buttons on the back of her dress one by one. Her heart started pounding so hard she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “ Eisuke,” she said in a shaky voice “ Are you scared?” He stopped unbuttoning her dress “ Listen to me _ _ _. It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you if it hurts too bad just tell me and I’ll stop.” “ O-okay”

He continued unbuttoning slowly revealing the white lacy corset she was wearing paired with matching cheeky panties. The dress fell to the floor and she stepped out still wearing her satin heels. She laid the dress delicately on a nearby chair and turned around. Eisuke had never seen her like this, she had taken his breath away. “ This is what beautiful looks like.” He took her hand and led her to the bed, and gently sat her down. He knelt down and unhooked her shoes and slid them off. He kissed her ankle. “ Tonight is your night baby, let me pleasure you.” He scooted her up so that her head was laid on the pillows. “ I’m nervous” he tangled his fingers through her hair. “ So am I, we will take it slow.” “ Why are you nervous? You’ve had sex before.” He smiled at her as he climbed on top of her. “ It’s been years since I’ve been touched or touched anyone. I’ve waited for you. This is special for both of us. You’re about to experience a different world, you’ll love it I promise. I know all we’ve done is kissed, just let go and trust me.” He leaned down and pressed his lips on hers and, soon he opened his mouth and she opened hers instinctively along with his. He slid his warm tongue into her mouth. Their tongues danced and wrestled. He took her hand and put it on his shoulder, then put his hand on the side of her face as he searched her mouth. He finally released her and they were both gasping and swollen from the passionate kiss. He could already feel himself getting worked up. He sat up on his knees and took off all the pieces of his tux and dropped them to the ground. Until he came to his shirt which he unbuttoned slowly, he slid it off his arms and she took in the sight of his muscular body. She had seen him in a swimsuit before, but this was different. She wanted to touch him, she put her hands on his chest and felt down to his navel and back up. “ I love you Eisuke” he smiled “ You know I love you” she was shocked, he only ever told her he loved her on rare occasions. Maybe because it was a special night he wanted her to know his feelings? Whether that was it or not it made her happy and she smiled. He leaned back down and kissed her forehead, her nose her lips. Then, he kissed along her jaw. He licked down the shell of her ear and nippled on her earlobe. “Ahh” she let out a small moan and he smiled. He kissed down her neck to her collarbone and her head lulled back. He made a trail of tiny kissed down to her cleavage and her nervousness was at a high, but when he gently bit and sucked at her breast leaving a sizable red mark. She started to forget about her nerves. “ Rollover on your side, I’m going to take your corset off.” He helped her roll over and untied her corset. Pulling it off her body. She turned over but crossed her arms over her breasts. “ Don’t hide from me, don’t worry you’re beautiful. Soon you’ll forget about your modesty.” He took her hands and held them above her head with one hand. “ Are you going to be good? I need my hands for this.” She nodded her head “ good girl” he patted her head He put his large hands on her breasts and she gasped, he kneaded and massaged. Then he took his fingers and rolled her nipples between his fingers. “Ahhh!” He leaned down and put the tip of his tongue on the hard bud of her nipple. He circled his wet tongue around her nipple. He opened his mouth and drew it in his mouth suckling. He went over to the other nipple and repeated the action. She started breathing hard through her nose, and as he released it, he realized her legs were parted. It was the perfect opportunity for dry humping. He went back to her lips and rubbed his pelvis against hers. She held onto his shoulders, as he rubbed against her. She moaned and gasped, and once he was satisfied with how he had gotten her worked up he kissed down her abdomen to the waistline of her panties. She put her hands over them, and he looked up at her. “ I’ll be gentle” He removed her hands and slid her panties off of her delicate body leaving her laid bare in front of him. “ I’m going to touch you” she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. He touched her clit, and started rubbing it in circles. She didn’t expect it to feel so good. She arched her back off the bed, and she curled her toes. “ I’m going to put my finger inside of you now.” He slowly entered a finger, she didn’t wince or whimper so he took that as a sign that she wasn’t in pain. He wanted to give her every experience so he removed his finger and settled himself between her legs. He put his face against her licking her clit up and down. As he licked at her he entered a finger inside of her hooking it upwards, he sucked on her clit and that was it. “ I - I feel hot” “ That means you’re going to have an orgasm.” He leaned back down and kept going with his ministrations, and the coil inside of her snapped and he orgasm came rushing forth taking over her. She grasped at his hair as she rode out her high. He licked up all her fluids and looked up at her catching her breath. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and he stood up and undid his belt and took off his pants and slowly took off his underwear allowing his cock to be released from its constraints. “ I’m going to make love to you now.” He hovered over her and lined his cock up with her entrance, and ever so slightly pushed. This time she did wince. He felt bad for causing her discomfort, but he knew she was strong and could get past the pain. He pushed in slowly as gently as he could inch by inch. Until he hit a barrier. “ It hurts!” “Do you need me to stop?” She shook her head “ I want to be one with you, keep going” He pushed with a little more force, to push past the barrier. Finally, he was all the way in and he didn’t move to give her time to adjust to having him inside of her. “ Are you okay?” “Yes, you can move now” After a moment or two he began gently thrusting, but soon what had been pain turned into pleasure. She felt up his muscular back, and he began gasping and moaning. She clawed at his back, which elicited a guttural grunt from Eisuke. Sweat formed on their skin and all that could be heard where her moans and his gasps, along with squelching sounds from their lovemaking. He pushed her legs further apart, and she was singing. He had to be gentle, he knew this. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and she looked at him. “ C- Can you go faster?” He shifted his position, looking for her special spot, and started quickening his face. “ Oh..Oh my god...Eisuke!” He kissed her sloppily “ Found it.” She looked at him confused “ You’re G- spot, but let’s make this even better shall we?” He reached between their bodies and rubbed at her clit, putting pressure on it. She was at her height with pleasure, and her legs trembled and she started moaning louder. She felt her orgasm building up in her belly, and became desperate for it to come. She squeezed his hand hard. “ Don’t deny it let it come, baby. You’ll feel spectacular I promise.” She knew he was probably right especially if this was like the first one. As his hips snapped into her and his fingers played with her she began heating up again. From the tip of her toes to her head. “ Yes, yes. Oh my... I feel... so .... strange.” Then it snapped and her vision went white. She stopped moving, and her walls tightened around his cock pulling him in further as if she wasn’t already tight enough. “ Ahhh! Eisuke!” He kept thrusting into her to help her ride out her high, and fluid leaked out in between them and he smirked, knowing she just had a powerful orgasm. Once she had come down from her high and once again was coherent, Eisuke kissed her forehead. “ Did you come just now? Because it sure felt like you did.” “ Yes, but Eisuke it’s your turn.” “ Don’t worry about me I’m almost there.” She worried that she wasn’t pleasing him, but he gave her three more powerful thrusts and he moaned sharply and found his release. He caught his breath, and slowly began to pull out. He went to take his condom off when he realized there was blood on it. She saw what was unfolding and sure enough, blood was getting on the sheets. She scurried over to the bathroom to clean herself up. Eisuke put a bathrobe on and knocked on the door. “ Get cleaned up, I’m going to have them bring up new sheets.” “ Eisuke?” She opened the door a crack He turned around, and her eyes filled with tears. He wiped them away. “ Don’t be embarrassed, most women go through it. A little blood isn’t going to scare me away” “ I need to get some pads” she looked down “ I’ll get them there’s a convenience store in the hotel.” “ But” “ I’m your husband now, I’m going to have to do this kind of thing now.” She took a hot shower, and in the meantime Eisuke had the sheets changed and bought pads. He put them on the toilet in the bathroom. She came out in a bathrobe and got her clothes and changed into a satin nightgown. “ Thank you for buying those for me.” He nodded his head and changed into his pajamas and got into bed. “ Was it okay, I mean was I okay.” He looked into her iris’s “ You were more than okay, you made me come did you not? My question is was it everything you thought it would be?” “ It was more than I ever thought it could be. I didn’t know you could feel like that.” He chuckled lightly and she laid her head in the crook of his arm and played with the buttons on his shirt. They laid there quietly and let the world run on without them as they basked in each other’s embrace.

#kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #voltage inc #l365 #eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb esiuke #eisuke smut #kbtbb fanfic #eisuke fanfic

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a-table-of-fics · 3 years

Text

Oddworld: Conar's Ambition, Chapter 4, Draft 1

In the meantime, he puffed on his Lungbuster some more, thinking about what they could do next. Once they were all in the scrapyard, and found a secure spot, that’d be a good time to see about that map Mark probably had. From there, he could hopefully find out where Zeb’s offices were, and from there he and Slim could take him down, and Conar could finally have a fortune of his own.

His happy daydreams were interrupted when he heard another vehicle come rumbling down the road, and the sound of screeching metal against concrete. He leaned to look past the wall, and he had to cover his earholes as he saw an ugly yellow truck coming to the garage, sparks flying behind it as it carelessly dragged an enormous three-pronged hook behind it on a thick metal cable. He leapt back, afraid the tow cable might swing his way and obliterate him. Thankfully, it was nowhere close, and the truck was slowing to turn into the parking space anyway.

A Slig wearing a work vest came out, putting a well-worn yellow cap onto his head. He slammed a fist on the bed of the truck, and three Scrubs sat up groaning, and climbed out of the back.

Conar turned to the sleeping Mudokons, and was quick to tap them both with his Blunderbuss. They stirred, slowly standing back up. Just in time, too; the Slig had looked their way. He nodded before walking over to the passenger side. The door opened, and Conar heard the tell-tale sound of a Glukkon’s cheap dress shoes rapidly clattering. He was smoking an even cheaper cigar, and oil-stained suspenders over a hideously yellow plaid shirt. He sneered as he looked over at Conar and the Mudokons under his care, but his face softened as he saw the cab they came in with.

He hummed, running a few mental tallies.

“Quite a wreck,” he finally said. “Almost wish I’d seen the accident!”

He laughed, and if there was one thing any Slig learned quickly, it’s that a Glukkon’s laughter is contagious… or else. The Mudokons had no such obligation; while Slim and Mark were trying to keep their heads down, the three Scrubs in yellow loincloths just unloaded the truck of its six toolboxes. They politely waited by the door, struggling to stand up under the weight they were carrying.

“I take it you’re Clunk?” Conar asked.

“You ain’t as stupid as you look,” the Gluk snorted. “Why do ya ask?”

“Your guard over there says we need a ticket from you to get this scrap into the yard.”

Clunk turned around, seeing a wide-awake Slig waving his way from his booth, his magazine hidden from view.

“He’s right, you will need one. We gotta make sure we can’t fix it first.”

Meanwhile, his assistant Slig was watching the overly encumbered Mudokons. He was taking great pleasure in slowly opening the doors, at a couple of points even “accidentally” letting the doors fall a little, chuckling as the Scrubs groaned. Finally, he let them in, and they were able to set their equipment on the workbench.

“Right,” Conar nodded. “So when can we get started, sir? I’m already running late…”

“250 Moolah,” the Glukkon replied, simply. “We also gotta get your name and everything for our records. If we start going a little late, maybe I can let your boss now. Who knows?”

He leaned forward, enough to breathe smoke into Conar’s face.

“He might be feeling lenient and just dock your pay.”

He chuckled to himself, while Conar reached into his bag. Having only around 1400 Moolah to his name, this was quite a bit, but what choice did he have?

The other Slig happily accepted his payment, and turned towards his workforce.

“All right, get ‘er in so we can take a look!”

Conar and company watched as the cab was taken in, and followed when Clunk beckoned them in. They were directed to a lobby that had two very greasy chairs in it, as well as half another chair that was haphazardly lying against the wall. Clunk moved behind the front desk, where his assistant was waiting.

“So, you got an ID, ‘valued’ customer?”

“39872-A,” Conar said, automatically.

“Right. Place of employment?”

“Slog Hut 1884.”

“Quite a ways from here. What happened?”

“Got caught in some crossfire around home, sir.”

Clunk nodded.

“Right, we’ll see what we can do. You have a seat.”

Conar nodded, keeping the seat on his Pants rather than anything he could actually feel. The Mudokons, after one glare from the owner, shared the half-seat, keeping their feet splayed so they didn’t tip it over.

Clunk chuckled at the sight, and so Conar did too.

“Which of these chumps was the driver?”

Mark shrunk a bit, knowing what was going to come next, but before anyone else, Slim piped up.

“I was driving, sir.”

Mark was about to say something, but Slim’s elbow made a point against that. Clunk looked, and nodded.

“Brave Mud to admit that,” he said, turning back to Conar. “Make sure to get his license. Should have a number you can call on this phone here. They’ll take care of ‘im for losing company property, I hope.”

With that, he waddled over through the doorway, to the noises of metal clanging and tools hissing and whirring.

As soon as he was gone, Slim looked at the shaken Mark, then turned to Conar.

“Can you… can you pretend to call?”

“You ain’t tellin’ me what to do!” Conar replied. “I gotta call, that’s what he said…”

Slim’s look said it all, but he added “You want everyone to know where we are?”

“…Yeah, why don’t I just… not call, then?”

“Clunk’s probably gonna pop in at any moment. You really want to blow your cover here?”

Conar thought about it for a moment, then nodded. He’d have to ask about how Slim knew about this kind of thing later, but for now, he had a “call” to make to the taxi company. He stood up, holding a hand out expectantly. Mark looked at it for a moment, then sighed and produced a card from a pouch on his loincloth.

Conar snatched it and took a look. So he was supposed to call the Durtminch Taxi Service, but he punched random keys on the phone in rapid succession. He got a busy signal, but he pressed on.

“Yeah, hi… I wanted to report a Mud who drove through a gunfight…Yeah…We’re at Clunk’s… His name’s Mark…”

Clunk walked back in, watching while Conar finished his conversation.

“…ID, uh, 5928-22555…And this was 39872-A… Yeah, thanks.”

He looked up at the Glukkon.

“They said they’d discipline correctly.”

“Good,” Clunk nodded. “It’s important that they… learn. Anyway, we got some fixes underway. It’ll be ten minutes, but if it still don’t work, we’ll take it off your hands and getcha a ride.”

“Gotcha,” Conar nodded, walking back to take a seat.

Unfortunately, Clunk was staying at the desk, watching a monitor. No chance of using this time to rest, then; despite Conar’s reason for being late, he could still get reported for sleeping during work hours. Being late to the Slog Hut was one thing, but using this as an excuse to sleep was a one-way path to being detained until a co-worker could arrive and perform disciplinary action. Talking to the Mudokons was out of the question, too. No Glukkon liked seeing security being buddy-buddy with the workforce. So, he waited, listening to the sounds of mechanics hollering and metal clanging for ten minutes until, finally, the other Slig came back into the lobby.

“W-well,” he said, uneasily, “Got as fixed as we could, boss.”

The three Scrub mechanics walked in, covered in considerably more oil, soot, and burn marks than the Slig was.

“Well,” Clunk smiled, “Why don’t you have your driver friend there get the thing started, and we’ll see you off?”

Slim felt many eyes on him, and he slowly stood up. Mark followed suit, letting their half-chair slide and collapse onto the floor. He and Slim scrambled to get that back onto the wall, and then moved to follow the other Slig, with Conar following after.

He swallowed, climbing into the driver’s seat while Mark and Conar made it into the backseat.

“Hold up,” the head mechanic asked, raising a hand, “What’s the deal with the other Scrub?”

“You know better than to ask questions like that!” Clunk scolded, causing his Slig to wince. “It’s like you know nothing about keeping customers!”

He coughed, nearly dropping his cigar.

“Right then,” he continued, turning his attention to Conar through the window, “Explain why you’re commutin’ with a Mudokon!”

“Ah, y’see, er…”

“’M a student,” Slim meekly offered. “Y’see, he’s my instructor, isn’t that right, ‘Slim’?”

“I—” Mark started, before having his toe pressed by Conar’s metal foot. “Y-yeah, I am. L-lemme give ya a… refresher on how t’start this thing… yeah…”

He reached over, adjusting the levers to get the thing started. A rumble and whining noise, but nothing happened.

“Try again,” Clunk said.

“O-okay,” Mark nodded, having another go. Same result.

“Oy,” Clunk muttered, shaking his head. “All right, my boys’ll ger this into the scrapyard and we’ll getcha a new ride.”

“Actually,” Conar piped up. “I got two perfectly good Scrubs here. Betcha they could do with a bit of exercise, y’know what I’m saying?”

“Not gonna happen,” Clunk laughed. “Can’t have your Muds diving under a hunk of metal and escapin’, can we?”

“No sir,” Conar said, nodding a little too hastily. “Can’t have ‘em fleeing.”

He lifted his gun up meaningfully.

“I’m sure Tess and I could keep an eye on ‘em, though… heh heh…”

Clunk looked at him, and laughed.

“Ah, you really wanna teach ‘em a lesson, huh? Can’t blame ya for that; even a Mudokon should know not to drive into a firefight.”

He turned to his assistant.

“You focus on keeping our boys in line. Let our friend here take care of scrappin’ that piece of crap.”

“Er, all right, sir…”

It was hard to see with his own visor and the other Slig’s pilot-like goggles, but Conar could swear he was getting a side-eye from the guy as he turned to gather his mechanics.

Conar, for his part, simply shrugged, grabbing a ticket as it printed before giving a somewhat forceful jab to Slim’s back with the barrel of his gun.

“Get movin’, you two! I wanna see that cab in the scrap heap, and I wanna see it there now!”

He gave a bit of a chuckle to keep appearances, and the three of them moved the cab out. Well, Slim and Mark did, while Conar kept pace behind them, cradling “Tess” in his arms, still keeping it quite visible in the tried-and-true “Slig At Work” pose.

“Some escape,” Slim muttered under his breath. “Make me wish I was back shoveling Slog poo.”

“Wait, we’re escapin’?” Mark asked, perking up. “I can quit driving Sligs around? No more chokin’ on smoke?”

Before Mark could get too excited, though, he had to flinch as two shots rang out from behind him. Both he and Slim immediately put their hands over their heads, resting their faces onto the car’s trunk. They were just able to turn their heads enough to see Conar looking at them, his smoking gun pointed straight up in the air.

“Enough yapping!” he barked. “You’re slowin’ down when you do that!”

Mark was shaking a little, but Slim just sighed before beginning to push the cab again. On the plus side, the guard had woken up from that, and was already watching them pull up. Conar was already waving the ticket up for him, so he pulled the lever on the left of the control panel.

The three of them watched as the gate shook, groaning and creaking as it dragged along the ground. In the twenty-two seconds it took for it to open, Slim and Mark were able to take a breather, which they gratefully took. They almost didn’t notice when Conar shouted for them to start pushing again, but self-preservation kicked in regardless, and the cab was shoved through the gate again.

It soon became clear that they were not moving past multiple piles of discarded metal, but instead walking on one enormous heap. There was enough rust to pass as dirt if you weren’t walking on it, and they could hear metal creak not just under their feet, but everywhere. In the distance, a stack collapsed onto itself. A crane with an enormous magnet lifted junk into a new pile, and a bulldozer shoved more onto it.

As Conar looked around, the two Mudokons took note of the red eyes floating around. They didn’t seem to be taking any interest in the trio, instead panning over the various machines.

“Now, let’s get this thing outta the way,” Conar said. “I think I see some room over there.”

He gestured over to a place between an old FeeCo train car and a pile of refrigerators. It was a tight fit, but nothing a bit of elbow grease and Slig threats couldn’t take care of.

“Right,” Conar said, “We should find a place to lay low, then. We can figure things out from there.”

He looked either way, and found the door was taken off the train car. That was as good an option as any to look, but Slim put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going into it.

“There’s a hideout in the fridges already,” he said. “Might wanna check that first.”

Conar paused to look at the pile on the other side, but outside of various graffiti tags, he didn’t see anything of interest. Besides, the train car was right here.

“I don’t know what you’re tryin’,” he said, pulling his shoulder away from the Mudokon, “but if you think you can pull one over me, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“I’m not—”

“Get in the train!” Conar shouted. “That’s an order!”

“Fine,” Slim sighed, clambering in. It was dark and cold down there, and the air had a metallic scent that was just powerful enough to be uncomfortable. Mark and Conar followed, landing next to him.

“It ain’t much,” Conar admitted, “but at least we should be hidden pretty well here.”

“I guess,” Slim shrugged, while Mark just nodded.

“It’s been a long night, so we oughta rest for a bit. We’ll work on getting started later.”

Conar watched as the Mudokons found a darker corner, huddling together for warmth. Despite the conditions, they found sleep far more easily than Conar did. The Expresso had long since lost its kick, but this was a far cry from the bed he was used to. What was worse, he was watching over recently-freed Scrubs. He could manage one, but what if the two were to gang up on him? Hell, Slim was already giving him orders! He was already getting a lot of nerve!

#oddworld fic #oddworld conar's ambition #Oddworld #draft 1 #chapter 4 #oddworld conars ambition full chapter

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Siren Seduction; Alternate Story

Kind of Requested?: captivatedbycillianmurphy said: I’m actually a professional mermaid, it would be cool if you wrote a story about Tommy finding me by accident “in tail !” LOL🤣🧜🏻‍♀️ Siren Seduction !

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x reader

Warnings: swearing, mermaids, mention of death, sexual/smutty mentions and reference(s), nudity (FOR MERMAID REASONS), slight angst, fluff

Note: The note for these two stories is on the first one, found here. Also, my apologies for the random ending, I tried to make it go with the title. Sorry if it doesn’t make sense, it’s all I could think of.

Y/f/b/g = Your Favorite Baked Good

masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Y/n L/n was an elegant and formal lady to say the least. She married Tommy and took his son into her life like it was nothing. She treated Charlie with love and motherhood, as if he was her own. She loved Tommy with all of her heart, her marriage to him meaning the world to her. Y/n was not one to break a promise nor the vows of her wed. Tommy was the same, his vows becoming important to him when he discovered his fiancé happily playing with her soon-to-be stepson.

After the wedding, he found that his wife strayed away from contact with water, and preferred wearing a large coat if she were to be around it. Anything to prevent her from getting wet. When the rain was falling, she asked that she be the one to hold the umbrella, so that it was sure to cover any part of her body that was showing any amount of skin.

It isn’t strange to have Aquaphobia, or at least to behave in a way that makes people think you do, but it was strange to act such a way yet enjoy being at the beach or around where water made home. Y/n hated the thought of getting her skin even the least bit wet, but she loved visiting the places having to do with the liquid. Why? No one knew, but it did intrigue them.

Currently, she lied on the sofa with a blanket and book in hand. Charlie was with Tommy and they were expected to be home soon. It didn’t bother her when they left, as it gave her some time with herself. She normally took care of the young Shelby when Tommy was out, and it filled her with joy, but she did need alone time every once in awhile. She had a lot of reading that she was excited to catch up on.

John and Arthur accompanied Tommy and Charlie with their visit to a bakery. There was a promise Tommy made to Charlie every time they were in town. “Behave yourself and you can pick out something for you and mummy.” So that’s what he did. Charlie often picked y/f/b/g for Y/n and a fresh cookie for himself.

As her fingers brushed over the page, she thought of the water, the beautiful and relaxing sound it made when leaving the faucet in the kitchen, or the peaceful splashes that came from droplets of rain from the sky, the waves of the ocean too! It made a glorious sound when it hit the shore. It was Y/n’s true home, and she had been away for so long.

Unknown to the Shelby family, or really anyone that was a pure mortal, Y/n was a mermaid. She was born to the creatures, and still was one. Like the others, she had the ability to transform herself to human on land. The price of which, was that she would shift back into her true form if she were to get wet. She could switch back, but that would require her to be dry again.

It needed an awful lot of cautiousness. She couldn’t be in the kitchen, or really anywhere that would cause her exposure to liquids. Of course, Bodily fluids and Charlie’s slobber/drool was an exception. By now, Tommy and her were not new to the bedroom. When they had first done the deed, it came as a surprise to her that she didn’t shift forms during said session. She ended up making it clear to her husband that she would do anything with him as long as it didn’t involve a form of liquid that didn’t come from their bodies.

How she bathed was another question. Y/n refused to do anything with Tommy involving the bathroom or tub, her rule specifying that. Maids were turned down when they offered to help. She didn’t bathe Charlie, instead asking Ada to do it, and she never washed her hands in front of others. So how was she taking care of her hygiene? Easy; she did take baths, but they were short due to her only needing to wash her upper-body. She used the extra time to dry off, so it only seemed like she took a long relaxing bath by herself to release the stress of the day.

Now she was at home and alone. No one could ask where she had went. No one could walk in on her with a tail. But still, she wouldn’t be prepared if her husband or one of her in-laws walked in. The only place, would be to go home. To the sea. Of course there would be a few people there, it was a good day, but Y/n knew a secluded part that only the Shelby family visited.

She asked a taxi-driver to bring her to the beach as fast as she could. He knew of her Shelby name, and he knew not to upset her or her family. Of course he didn’t take into thought that her husband might dislike her leaving her home while he had people ready to kill him and his loved ones. So, as she expected, he followed her orders and sped off to the sandy terrain.

They conversed a little on the drive. Y/n didn’t pay much attention to the driver. He seemed really interested in keeping her amused, however it didn’t amuse nor have any affect on Y/n’s thinking. She was too busy focusing on getting to the beach.

“Keep going, there’s a drop off spot. Please do not follow me, and do not wait for me.” Y/n adjusted her sleeve, not phased by the fact that she sounded suspicious.

“Yes ma’am. If I am to come upon your husband, shall I tell ‘im where you are?”

“No, that will not be necessary.” The car halted to a stop. The man was about to rush to the other side and let Y/n out, but she was already smoothing her hands down her dress and reaching to open the door. “James is it? Well thank you, I ask that you do not come back to this location unless I am in the car and asking you to take me here. Understood?”

“Yes Mrs. Shelby.” He opened his hand and accepted the change, mumbling, “And it’s Henry...” as she left his line of sight.

She walked down the path, taking off her gloves and shoes to walk among the soft and warm sand. The wind felt wonderful in her hair. She continued walking, she was on the part she had thought about. Her hands relieved her of her dress, now nude in the empty area. The tip of her big toe touched the water, and her legs started turning into scales.

She had never felt so alive. Held up on land for about 3 years, it was so refreshing to be back in her natural environment. When her legs became connected she fell into the water and swam forward. She kept swimming. It felt like hours had gone by when she finally returned to the surface.

Little did she know, Tommy, Charlie, John and Arthur thought it would be a nice day to go to the beach, suggestion of Charles Shelby. When Tommy found his wife’s clothing, he assumed only the worst and sent his brothers into rowboats to search the water as much as they could. Charlie and him were walking along the shore, Tommy reassuring Charlie so that he wouldn’t get worried or start crying for his mother.

Anger filled Tommy when his brothers quickly rowed back. He couldn’t hear them shouting with awe and disbelief. They had found Y/n because she was swimming back, the bottom of her beautiful green and sunset-like colored tail came out of the water slightly when she swam past them. She didn’t see them, but they saw her.

They beat her back to the shore and pulled their boats with them.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ eh?” Tommy was still furious. His first wife had died, and now this. Now his brothers just suddenly didn’t care for him or his lover. “My wife is out there! Get off ya lazy asses, and search for her!”

“Tommy!” John was out of breath, leaning over and panting like his older brother. “We found her.”

“Actually, she found us.” Arthur finally caught his and told his brother of the strange sighting. “She had a bloody tail. Have we gone mad?”

“I think you might’ve. There’s no way my wife, who has fuckin’ legs, had a tail and just,” He made a motion with his hand, “zoomed on past ya.”

The men were still arguing. It bored Charlie. And a great amount. He started looking around, practically begging for something actually cool to happen.

“Look!”

All three brother’s attention was on Charlie now. He was pointing to the ocean, where a tail poked out.

“See, we aren’t mad, are we John?”

“No. No, I don’t think so Arthur.”

“Look Tommy, ya son found his mum.”

The tail went back underwater and was replaced with Y/n’s head, her body following. The Shelby brothers took a second, all three with slacked jaws and wide eyes. Thomas caught himself first, noticing the situation.

“Cover your damn eyes. That’s my wife, and she’s obviously missing some coverage.” Tommy handed Charlie to his uncles, scoffing at his brother’s behaviors. “Hand me her dress. And that blanket while you’re at it.”

He rushed to his wife, both cloths in hand. She made a confused face at her husband, but let him wrap the blanket around her anyways. Tommy picked her up bridal style and held her close to him. She could feel his heart beat, as well as his shaking arms.

The secret was out.

Tommy shooed his brothers out of the way and set his wife down. He took the end of the blanket and wiped down her tail, making sure to be extra careful. No words were spoken until Y/n broke the silence.

“Tommy?”

He made a humming sound, letting her know he was listening.

“Do you not love me anymore? Since you know now?”

Thomas continued drying off her body, standing in front of her and reaching in a hug-like motion to rub her back dry. He turned the blanket quickly so that he could dry off her front-side, then her arms. After a little bit, her tail turned into her human legs. It caused her other human bits to be more exposed. Luckily, Tommy was quick to pull her dress over her body and sit her upright.

She put her hand on his shoulder. His eyes glanced up to hers and he smiled softly. Tommy pressed a kiss to Y/n’s lips, passion and relief filled both of their minds.

“No my love, I could never stop loving you. May I ask why you never told me?”

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“That you would think a freak of me, or that you would divorce me and say you no longer loved me.”

“Ah...” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “I could never think that of you. And as I said, I could never stop loving you.” Sensing that she was still doubting, he spoke one of his many thoughts of the subject. “You go nude into the water, yes?” She nodded. “Well your unintentional Siren Seduction must be dealt with at home and as soon as possible.”

The nervous tension turned sexual with his suggestive comment. And they weren’t the only ones to notice that. Laughter broke out among the adults.

“Tommy! For god sakes! Can you two keep it in your pants until you’re alone? Especially with Charlie here!” Charlie was too busy giggling at the water to notice anything. The couple and brothers, however, were startled by the comment.

“Jesus Christ! Where’d you come from Pol?”

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years

Text

Three Days ~ 72

~*~Sebastian~*~

Yes, I gave Emma a key on her way out the door and told her to keep it. Pretty chickenshit, huh? Only it's not. I gave her a key on her way out the door and told her to keep it because it's not a big deal. There's no reason to have a conversation. I had my mom drive me to the back of the school where I put my shit in her vehicle. I knew the code and thought nothing of stowing my suitcase. I realize my apartment is different than a vehicle. Again, except it's not. The thought of her calling or, fuck, knocking on the door when she came back, did not feel right. And if I was in the shower, what was she going to do, sit outside the door and knock occasionally? Fuck no. So, I gave her a key.

The worst thing Emma would do is show up before I got home and rearrange some drawers and leave some cabinets open. Speaking of drawers, I cleared out a couple for her. The first thing I did after she left was to go into my bedroom and unpacked her suitcase, which I then shoved in the hall closet. The last time she was here I liked her things mixed in with mine. Still true. Her dresses hanging in my closet, shampoo in my shower, and the toothbrush I'd held hostage all made me smile.

Everything about Emma made me smile.

I got back to work only to be interrupted by a text from Will telling me Alissa was having lunch with Angie and Emma. Oh good, I might get to have another fun conversation. After the group chat with Alissa and Kirk I was confident that wouldn't happen. By the time we were done, I think they understood they could have fucked things up. Luckily Emma came to me. Plus, I learned how different my behavior looked to friends. Nothing I could do about that and in the end, it turned out well.

Before I knew it, I heard a key in my front door. The expected thrill from that was better than I imagined. I put everything down with a plan for her to return to my lap. Plan was blown when Emma and Angie struggled through the door carrying an obscene number of bags. So many colors, sizes, and store names on so many bags.

I stood to help, taking from one of her hands, "What the fuck did you two do?"

Emma stretched up onto her toes and kissed me, "I have a problem."

"You ran out of stores?"

"No." She glared at me. "Sometimes the stars align. Free time in the city on a beautiful day for shopping. My best friend for company and to stop me from buying a fashion faux pas. A boyfriend who has an appreciation for me in nice things. And an impending trip to France."

Angie added, "Stores with new inventory. And a tequila lunch to impair our impulse control at that adorable shop you two found."

I lined the bags up on our dance floor. "I think you two are dangerous. You don’t reign each other in."

They laughed, “Yes we do." Both waved a hand over the bags and Emma said, "This could have been much worse."

Just looking at the bags and glimpses of their contents I guessed there were many hundreds of dollars in my living room. I liked how she shopped. "Show me everything." This buying spree was all me. Show tonight, first date, and five days in Paris. "I’m excited.” Her trying on everything in a just for me fashion show would have to wait for another time.

I oohed and awwed and made cringey faces with each outfit. The pair had a similar style, with Emma's being kicked up a notch. She took more risks. "Which will you be torturing me with tonight?"

Emma stuck her tongue out with a huge grin, "Which do you want?"

I felt my dirty smirk, "You know which one." My pants felt a little tighter with just the thought.

Angie waved, "I don't."

"You'll have to wait."

Angie looked from Emma to me, "I'd warn you to be careful what you ask for, but I think you can handle the strain."

"Or die trying." I shrugged.

We sat down, laughing and talking until Angie noticed the time. "Shit."

Soundcheck at six, doors at seven, then music at eight. The second group on at ten-thirty.

"Can you get ready here and go over with us?" It made no sense for her to round trip to Brooklyn when Bowery Ballroom was ten minutes away on a bad night.

Angie looked at Emma, "Do you have shoes?"

Emma nodded.

I stood up, "Let me shower then you two can have the bedroom."

Emma stood, "I'll grab my stuff and we’ll start in the guest bath." She followed me into the bedroom, where she attempted to tackle me onto my bed. I let her. She pushed me to my back and stretched out on me. "Did you have a good day?"

First things first. I kissed her, resting my hands on her ass. "I did. Not as good as you."

"Then I will make sure you have a good night."

"That sounds fun."

Emma kissed me, her tongue seeking out mine. I left one hand on her ass and sunk the other in her hair I didn't let her go the first time she tried to push away. I wasn't ready. The second time I eased my grip and she stayed up on her arms hovering over me for several seconds. I cocked my head and pulled down my eyebrows. She smiled and lowered for a soft kiss, “I love you."

"I love you."

Emma stood up and walked to where she'd put her bag. "Umm, Sebastian?"

I'd taken off my shirt, working on my shorts, "I unpacked."

"You unpacked me?" She looked a little surprised.

"I did." I walked into the bathroom naked. "Makeup and stuff in here. Clothes in some drawers."

She followed me, "Thank you." Emma's fingers trailed down my chest, stopping below my navel.

"Would you believe me if I said I don't like bags on the floor?"

"No."

I touched my lips to hers, staying close, "Smart girl." I pulled open the shower door, "Get away from me or we'll be late."

She pinched my ass with a laugh before grabbing her stuff and leaving.

I've given up drawer space before. Having someone dig clean panties out of a suitcase after you fucked her is shitty if she's staying longer than a weekend. I didn't think giving her drawers warranted a conversation either. However, now that she's home and I'm alone in the shower my overthinking brain wonders. It would have to wait.

The ladies were dressing up, but I was not. The Bowery is a big hot room shoved full of people. When I'd been there, one side of the mezzanine was roped off for a VIP area with tables and bar service. There's no way in hell Kirk won’t have a section for friends and family for him to hold court in. Still, it's a rock show. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and a pair of boots. Brushed my teeth, threw some product in my hair, and prepared to evacuate the space. I yelled down the hall, "Ladies, room is yours.” I heard them gathering and coming my way. I waited until they were in the room before holding out my arms, "Do I look acceptable?"

Emma stopped with a smile, "You look wonderful."

Angie shook her head, "Uh uh, she's wearing black. You’re too dark and you’ll blend."

I wasn't a stranger to complementary dressing for a date. "The blue’s not different enough?"

"Too dark a blue. On the mezzanine it'll look black."

I looked for Emma who was sitting on the bed, "Don't look at me. I wear tour shorts to dad's shows and Jimmy wasn’t about to change from his collared shirts."

Angie laughed, "His style was pretentious asshole." She thought a second, "I'd say white for a stark contrast or a red. Even though red is darker it’s a good look. Red and black is better than navy and black."

Emma raised her hand.

Angie called on her, "Yes, Emiliana."

"Ms. Angie, I would like to vote red." Of course, she would.

Angie looked at me, "How does Mr. Seb feel about the request?"

"I feel like my girlfriend is making me her own personal eye candy." The two ladies looked at each other aghast. I snickered, "I approve because I got input on the dress." I ducked onto the closet and pulled out the exact red shirt Emma wanted. Our second date and her first visit I opened the door in it. I held it out, "Better." They nodded. I handed the red one to Angie, handed the navy one to Emma, and took the red from Angie. They were shifting eyes from each other and me. I stood there looking between them.

"Do we pay you for the strip show?" I liked Angie playing with me like I did Chris, Will, and Chace goofing off with Emma.

I shook my head, "No, but tips are appreciated." I glanced at the clock, "We need to be out in thirty minutes if we don’t want to be late."

"We'll be ready."

"You both already look beautiful. Your clothes are in the right three drawers." Emma nodded with a smile and I leaned over on one foot to kiss her, "Love you."

Emma threw out, "Te iubesc, Sebasti-an."

I shivered, "I'll be waiting by the window.”

I was out the door when I heard Angie. "He's not emotionally unavailable. He's crazy in love."

I yelled back, "Thanks for your confidence."

I forgot the best friend was in the room when Alissa and Kirk were dropping bombs. We're way past that now. If Angie had doubts I couldn’t blame her. She'd be the one to deal with any destruction I caused. I was going to bust my balls not to. I may not be the best at giving myself credit for my good points, but I’m not stupid. Most of the time.

The longer it took them to come out the antsier I got. Emma doesn't take this long to get ready. Either they're talking more than getting ready or she's doing something complicated. No idea which.

Twenty minutes in Angie came down the hall. She'd curled her hair and had on the bright red dress she'd bought today. It was fitted, short, and off the shoulder. I whistled, "Sexy. Your husband will like."

Angie smiled, "Thank you. He likes red."

"Looks good on you." I laughed. "I can see why Eli never disputed the throuple thing. I'm going to enjoy walking in with two of you."

"Yeah, he ate that up. I'm sure he felt like his single self again. Threesomes with fans were his thing. Every night on tour and when they played locally."

I didn't know what to say. Part of me was impressed. I'd had threesomes, but every night? They're fun, but there's a lot of things going on all at once. Unless you just lay back and enjoy the attention. I think I'll stop now.

Angie read something on my face. She shook her head, "I tell you this to say that Eli was a very different person before we met. People change. People want different things in different relationships. Sometimes things they didn’t know they wanted. Eli was very different with me than those who came before me. You get to be different too."

Did not expect that. She had her butt on the window sill beside me. I leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Thank you."

She nodded with a smile, "You're welcome." Angie chuckled, "Eli's friends, especially the band, struggled with the changes. Then Boone met this cute little twink and discovered he was gay. Eli's changes were comparatively minuscule."

We were still laughing when Emma came into the room. I stopped laughing and mumbled, "Fuck."

Emma curtsied, "Thank you."

Emma's little black dress was... wow. The top looked like it had a built-in bra that lifted her breasts and showed an enticing amount of cleavage. Straps were far to the side, almost under her arms and straight over her shoulder. There was another pair of straps that connected at the corner of the dress and shoulder strap. They went diagonal across her chest and connected to a thicker collar around her neck. Triangles of bare skin showed off breasts and collar bones. It was the collar that would keep my attention for the skin in covered. Emma's favorite place to be kissed was hidden. What had taken them so long was her hair. Usually, she puts smooth curls into her naturally wavy hair. Tonight her hair was long and straight. It hung over one shoulder and was inches longer than when curled.

I stood from the window sill and stepped toward her while plotting where my hands went. I think one to her waist to feel the tight stretch of material over her body and the other is going for her hair. The material was thick and soft. It had the structure to hold everything in place. Up close I could see the black underwire on the bra and the soft swell of her breasts blooming over the top. I had plans for kissing there. I pulled up a strand of hair close to her temple and ran my fingers through to the end, well past her breasts. She wore more makeup than usual, still beautiful, but I didn’t want to mess her up. I pulled her bottom lip between mine and ran my tongue over. I kept her close as I pulled from her lips, "Beautiful doesn’t cover it, Emma."

M-am gandit la tine toata ziua, Sebasti-an. <I've been thinking of you all day.>

“Mă voi gândi la tine toată noaptea. Fiind în interiorul tău, gustându-te.” <I'll be thinking of you all night. Being inside you, tasting you.>

From beside us I heard, "I don't know what he said, but from the tone it's dirty." Angie took Emma's hand from my shoulder and led her away. "You can translate later. I need to go say dirty things to my husband."

Ten minutes later we were at the Bowery Ballroom. Angie had texted Eli to meet us at the door. A guy wearing a "STAFF" t-shirt opened the door and asked if we knew where we were going. Angie and Emma nodded. I shrugged. I hadn't been here in years and had forgotten that once inside you went down a set of stairs to a low ceilinged bar. Past the bathrooms, you went upstairs to the main floor. A larger bar was at the opposite end from the stage. There were stairs on either side leading to the balcony. There were black cases opened on the floor in front of the stage. That’s when it hit me. This was her world, not mine.

I could feel the excitement rolling off Emma. She looked over to me, her smile wide, and I squeezed her hand. Eli jumped off the stage, kissing Angie before greeting us. The other band had taken longer to soundcheck and they were running behind.

Emma looked around, "Where is Keaton?" Eli pointed up. She added, "Mia here?"

"Not yet."

"We'll see you up there." Emma led me to a hallway to the right of the stage and up another set of stairs, talking as we walked. "Keaton opened for Pearl Jam many years ago and then the last tour. He and Mia had just gotten together the first time. Now they have two kids. They like to tell their story to new people. It's fun."

At the top of the stairs, I stopped, pulling her hand back to me. "I love how excited you are. You know this world, how it works." Her confidence going into a backstage area was evident. She knew what she was doing, where she was "I want to see you backstage at a Pearl Jam concert. I bet you’re treated like royalty."

She smiled, "Staff and the longtime fans are protective, you don't fuck with the Vedder women. Even on fan sites and social media friends and family are treated with respect. People are quick to be put in their place or kicked out. None of the guys put up with shit. Ed calls people out from stage. But I’m not anybody here"

I didn't believe that for a second. She is Eddie Vedder's daughter. I bet she's treated with respect here too, partly because if she’s not, the band will never open for PJ again. I was getting increasingly proud and excited being with her here. Excited for me to experience something I didn't know from the inside.

Top of the stairs was a security guard. First one I'd seen since we arrived. He was bigger than me, but not by much. Beefy Civil War Bucky could have taken him easy. This guy had a clipboard and a list.

"Name?"

I let her handle this. Her name, one of her options, held more weight than mine. Emma smiled, "Emiliana Vedder."

He looked up from his list, eyeing her slowly, "I'm a huge Pearl Jam fan. You need anything you find me. I’m Dylan."

“Thank you, Dylan."

Dylan pointed down the hall.

I laid my hand on her hip. Without her, I didn't belong here. Part of my brain was enjoying being second to her in this world. I wasn’t as thrilled when I was second in the acting world. That felt like competition. This feels like fun. No pressure or networking for me. Hollywood and music were built on knowing and improving your place in the food chain. I think she's at the top of this food chain. Not that it matters, but I can’t help thinking this way. When I walk into a party or event I am immediately checking for who I know and who I want to know.

Short hall to an open door, Emma called out as we got closer, "Hope you're decent."

A deep voice with a New York accent answered, "Have you ever known me to be decent?"

"Ok, just not naked?"

We went through the door and the owner of the voice came toward us. "Close enough."

The man was taller than me, had long skinny legs, and a strong upper body. He wasn't in a shirt, but he had enough chest chair to count as a sweater. He went straight for my girl, wrapping her into a tight hug. "It's been too long." He stepped back and looked her over more closely than I liked, "You are bloody fucking gorgeous. If I didn't have Mia I’d be taking you home with me tonight"

Emma laughed, "I think he might object." She nodded in my direct.

Keaton’s attention turned to me, "Lucky bastard." He held out a hand, "Keaton."

"Sebastian. Nice to meet you."

Keaton introduced the others in the band. Kevin spoke when done, "Can we call you Bucky?"

"Not if you want me to answer." My canned response sets a limit and gets a laugh. And they did laugh.

My thinking had been correct. Emma was the star of our couple tonight. They caught up and Emma filled them in on what Ed was doing before attention turned to me. The questions weren't about Marvel. They wanted to know about the weightless stuff in The Martian and making out with Margot Robbie. Stacy, Kevin's wife, wanted to talk about Once Upon a Time.

We talked over the soundcheck going on below only interrupted by the arrival of a pixie sized woman coming into the room. She looked over all of us, seemed to wink at Emma, then locked eyes with Keaton, "Hey, Rockstar."

Keaton stood to go to her, "Cheerleader." They met for a kiss that I could feel.

Emma pointed, "That's Mia." Everyone else went back to talking and out of the corner of my eye I could see the couple stop kissing to talk then start kissing again. No one paying attention told me this wasn't unusual. They didn’t break apart until Eli and company came through the door and only then because Kirk pushed Keaton away so he could hug Mia.

With the moment gone Keaton joined the rest of us, grabbing a backpack before he sat down. Mia followed less than a minute later, pulling Emma off the couch, "So excited when Keaton told me you were coming."

They hugged and Emma said, " We've got some catching up to do."

Mia looked at me, "Yes, we do."

I stood while Emma laughed, "Mia this is Sebastian."

"Nice to... oh" I was surprised when Mia pulled me into a hug, "meet you."

Mia stepped back, "Sorry, I'm a hugger."

"Me too." I smiled, "It’s nice to meet you."

A voice came from the doorway. The same man who had let us in, "Doors open."

Eli nodded, "Thanks, Bill."

Bill moved out of the way as a server with a large tray of shot glasses came into the room. Everyone took one and Eli asked him to close the door as he left. I was in the middle of a tradition and followed along. Eli held up his glass, "Good friends, good music, good times."

Keaton added, "And a night we'll never forget, except the parts we can't remember."

Everyone drank. Keaton pulled a joint out of the smaller bag he’d pulled from his backpack and lit up. I guess we'd be marking get high together off our couple's Bingo card. The joint got to Emma first and she inhaled deeply. I took a kiss as she handed it off to me. The smoke hit my lungs and it was like they remembered, opening up to pull in a memory. I'd hadn't had a cigarette in years, a heavy habit that had been hard to break. My pot usage varied. More social than solo and it had been awhile. Thinking back, I hadn't been high since we'd met. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly with a smile, "Pot makes me horny."

I heard laughter and opened my eyes. They were laughing at Emma, whose arms were up like she was signaling a touchdown.

Eli was looking at me, "When are you not?"

I started to protest then pulled back, "Good point.” Emma was signaling another touchdown. I pulled her arms down. "Why are you acting like you never get laid?"

All four women shook their heads. Stacy had just handed off to Mia, "That’s celebrating the good sex to come."

I could already feel the mellowing out and my smile felt slow, "Ok, that's good, or it will be."

Emma put her arm over my shoulder and kissed my cheek, "Very good."

Mia pointed back and forth between us, "How long has this been going on?"

I went in with the answer, "A month on Monday."

Keaton, Kevin, and JP looked at each other with a low growl, "New couple sex is such a fun crapshoot. You gotta try everything at least twice."

Kirk snickered, "That’s two birthdays, Seb."

I flipped him off.

Keaton had a shit-eating grin on his face, "My Mia doesn't get horny. She gets touch hungry and I can play that to turn in to horny.”

Angie threw her hand out toward Emma, "Also gets touch hungry and a dirty mind. If she can stop laughing."

JP started laughing, "Oh yeah, remember Iowa?

Emma shook her head violently, "Nothing good happened in Iowa. Iowa was a disaster with bright moments."

I leaned in, "I wanna hear this. I'm envious of tour stories." They went quiet, "Who's going to start?'

Emma huffed out a breath, "Iowa was a festival in the front yard of a water company. It was muddy, hot, and in the middle of nowhere. Pearl Jam was the headliner. There were several other acts. Keaton, Neon Trees, Hanson, Adam Lambert. I wanted to meet Adam. Dad said not alone. I took Keaton."

Keaton picked up the story, "Adam is a fucking wall wrapped in leather and spikes. Imposing. I take her to his trailer, he's smoking, and we join. The conversation got filthy fast. They were making plans."

Emma took over, "They were imaginary threesome plans. Very detailed. Keaton was all in until he figured out this threesome had him as the center of attention, not me. Adam turned it on and Keaton thought leaving me with Adam was safer than him staying."

I laughed, "You bailed!"

“The plans had gotten too specific and he's big. You know what I mean." He shivered, "I went back and got stoned with Ed. That’s fucking nirvana every time. Who doesn’t dream of getting stoned with Pearl Jam."

I pouted, "I haven’t met him."

Emma sang, "Christmas."

Eli picked up, "You’re going to Hawaii?"

I nodded.

"Maybe don't tell him getting high makes you horny."

"Let's get stoned so I can fuck your daughter is a bad idea?" We were all laughing again. I was not going to do that.

Emma stood and went toward the refrigerator. I glared at Kirk and he followed her. He needed to apologize. Keaton went for his guitar, "He’s very protective."

The musicians started getting ready. Changing clothes, adding deodorant, and last trips to the bathroom. People shifted from sitting to standing and between pods of people. Emma and Kirk were still in the corner by the fridge. I joined Keaton and Kevin and heard more about Iowa. Emma was right, it was a disaster, but they had fun. Another joint went around and I noticed what a strange word Iowa was. It has too many vowels. Also realized[LW1] I didn't know where it was, "Is that one of the square states?"

Since we were high things were funnier than they actually were. Like my question.

"You skip fourth grade?" Keaton snickered.

"I was in Austria in fourth grade."

"No shit!"

I laughed at his expression. "Romania, Austria, then here."

Keaton sighed, "I fucking loved Prague."

"That’s the Czech Republic.”

"Not Romania?" He shook his head slowly as he spoke.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

I pointed to myself and said emphatically, "Romanian."

"Well, fuck me. I thought it was Romania."

"Don't give me shit about not knowing Iowa."

We laughed so hard and so long we were holding onto each other with tears running down our cheeks.

Heaving for breath Keaton got out, "Squarish state attached to the Chicago state. At the bottom. West."

"Thank you."

We kept laughing until I felt hands on my waist slide around on my stomach. I knew it was Emma, but since I was stoned, I glanced at the hands just to be sure. What was coming would be bad if it wasn't her. Emma's touch hunger and my horniness were an incendiary combination.

I raised one arm to turn in that direction. Emma loosened her hold enough to allow me to face her. I put my hands on her face diving straight into a kiss. Our tongues met and her fingers dug into my back. She tasted of weed and tequila. I couldn't get enough of all three.

I heard Keaton's voice behind me, "Time to go, Seb."

I peeled myself away from my girl and took her hand. Since this wasn't a true opener and main act sort of thing the non-performing group would be upstairs with the rest of us. As we filed out of the room, we passed by Kirk who was holding a small bowl of gummy bears. The edible would kick in as the joint was fading and see us through the night.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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star-spangled-steve · 5 years

Text

His New Partner

Chapter 26: The Consummation

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1787

Warnings: Smut, vaginal sex, oral sex, light fingering, nudity, cussing, fluff.

A/N: We’re now officially into the second half of this series! If you thought that the rest of it was going to be fluff, you’ve been terribly mistaken. But don’t worry, there will for sure be a happy ending!

“Not so fast!” The man spoke with a laugh before picking Y/N up bridal style right outside of their bedroom door. Steve, ever the traditionalist, knew how important it was to carry her over the threshold on the night of their wedding.

“Steve!” She giggled, latching her arms tighter around his thick neck. “Careful of the dress!”

“Sorry, doll,” he smirked as he readjusted his hands, trying to better gather the puffy white tulle, “but this is tradition.”

Y/N grinned. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

The Captain then began to take large, overly steady steps in the couple’s room. He was obviously being extra to amuse his wife, and by the sound of her growing chuckle, had definitely succeeded. Especially when he began to hum the ‘Wedding March’.

“Honey!” She gasped after being not so carefully thrown onto the bed, puffing a piece of H/C hair out of her face.

Steve tried not to smile at her shocked look, failing miserably. “Whoops.” He stepped back to close their bedroom door, toeing off his glossy dress shoes and slipping off his socks. “Guess I just got too caught up in the moment, sweetheart. Too caught up in what we’re about to do.”

“Hm.” Y/N bit her lip, sitting up on her knees. “And what are we about to do exactly?” She asked him, already knowing the answer. If the sight of Steve’s bedroom eyes weren’t enough to give it away, then his bigger than usual bulge was sure to let her know.

“Consummate the marriage.” He answered, fingers toying with the neckline of Y/N’s off-the-shoulder dress. “Make everything official.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Does it still count as consummating when we’ve already had sex?”

Steve just shrugged, wanting to get down to business anyways. “To me it does.” He let his hands wander to the back of her wedding gown, thumb and index finger undoing the tiny clip that was above her zipper. “As beautiful as this dress is, and as perfect as you look wearing it, it’s time for it to come off.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Funny thing, I don’t remember you being this horny when we first met.”

“S’just what you do to me, baby girl,” Steve began to unzip the bodice section, “can’t help it.”

Once completely undone, the gown pooled at her knees. This revealed her white lacy strapless bra, her white lacy thigh garter, and a pair of very interesting looking panties that her made her husband burst out in laughter.

“N/N!” He exclaimed with a huge grin. “You wore these to our wedding?”

“What?” She questioned innocently, glancing down at her Captain America themed underwear. “They’re my ‘something blue’... and white and red.”

Steve shook his head in delight. “What’re your other three objects then?”

“Well, my ‘something borrowed’ is this bracelet from Natasha.” Y/N took it off and put it on her nightstand, not wanting the other woman’s jewelry to get ruined during the upcoming activities. “My ‘something new’ is the dress, the shoes.” She then tossed her white stilettos to the floor, one at a time.

“And your ‘something old’?”

“Well,” the girl spoke as she began to undo Steve’s black bow tie, “that would have to be my darling husband.”

The man let out a boisterous laugh at her comment; the kind that he only did when he was alone with Y/N, or maybe with Bucky back when he was younger.

“I’m just joking,” she said with a smile, “the ‘something old’ was my hair clip.” She took the delicate piece out of her hair and placed it down as well, shaking her head side to side to let the bouncy curls fall.

Steve reached a hand up to her shiny locks, tucking a strand behind her ear with a dreamy sigh. “So fucking gorgeous, Y/N. So gorgeous.”

The girl wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her almost bare chest against his completely covered one. She placed a small kiss on his right cheek, then his left one, beaming up at her husband. “Language, Captain.”

“Oh, you little-” Steve stopped himself, shaking his head at her phrase. “I will spank you.” He threatened with what supposed to be a serious face, but the small gleam in his eye proved he was enjoying this just as much as Y/N.

She bit her lip in what she hoped was a seductive manner. “Please do.”

The man quickly raised his palm and landed a sharp smack on her panty-clad ass cheek, making the girl open her mouth for a yelp. But before any sound could get out, Steve’s lips were instantly on her own.

Y/N hummed when they separated, continuing to undo his half done up bow tie. “See, and I was thinking that you were getting tired of kissing me; after the amount of times the guests clinked the silverware and glasses tonight.”

“Never, doll.” Steve pressed another peck to her rosy lips, still feeling her fingers working on his tie. “Need help?” He asked when their mouths parted.

The actress shook her head. “Almost... done!” She exclaimed in joy when it was finally untied. “Now hold on.”

Y/N stepped completely out of her wedding dress, leaving it a crumpled ball on their king sized bed.

“Hold on for what?” Steve questioned, seeing her practically naked body run towards their door, undone bow tie in hand. “N/N. What are you doing, sweetie?”

The girl turned the handle and stuck her head out, checking left and right to make sure that no one was coming; wise, considering her lack of clothing.

“Doll!” The Captain whisper-shouted. “Someone could see you!” He saw her stick the tie out through the crack, and not a second later, slam the door closed with a giggle. “What did you do?”

Y/N rocked back and forth on her feet, doing a little excited dance. “I hung your tie on the door handle!” She continued to laugh as she stepped forward, unbuttoning her husband’s tuxedo jacket. “That way, everyone in the Compound will know what’s going on in here. Beautiful, passionate wedding night sex.”

Steve shook his head with a grin. “Funny thing, I don’t remember you being this much of a trouble maker when we first met.”

His wife just shrugged as she threw his jacket onto the small table nearby, getting started on his black vest underneath. “Am not.” She added quietly, throwing that piece of clothing to the floor once it was completely unbuttoned.

“Whatever you say, babydoll.” The man responded, wrapping his arms around her waist and falling back onto their bed. This now made Y/N on top of him, and she carefully tossed her puffy white dress to the floor.

Steve brought his hands to her back and undid her strapless bra, adding it to the growing pile of discarded clothes. He noticed her beginning to unbutton his pants and waved his fingers through her hair, urging her to continue.

Y/N began to rub his semi-hard dick through his boxer briefs, making the man inhale breath. She slowly brought his cock out of its confines, stroking him up and down his length and pressing a small kiss to the tip.

“Fuck, baby.” Steve groaned, letting his head rest on the pillow beneath him. He felt Y/N take him into her mouth and started to carefully thrust his hips up and down, making sure not to go too strong.

The girl bobbed her head, taking more and more of him each time. It was no secret to her that Steve’s penis was extremely large in size, so whatever area she couldn’t fit got massaged by her nimble hands.

“Sweetheart,” the man grunted, lifting her face off of his manhood, “if you keep up with that, I’m going to finish a lot sooner than you would like.”

“S’okay.”

“No, no, doll.” Steve stated, unbuttoning his white dress shirt and getting rid of it. “It’s your turn. Get on your back.”

Y/N followed his command and laid all the way down, giving her husband a big smile as he finished getting undressed.

It wasn’t too long until he was crawling over top of her, sliding the Captain America panties down her smooth legs. Steve moved his face southern and licked a stripe up her wet pussy.

His wife moaned in response, tangling her fingers in his now-messy blonde locks. “St-Stevie.”

The man smirked from between her thighs. “Feel nice, darling?” He continued with his assault on her core, making sure to spend extra time on her most sensitive areas; the places that he knew drove her the most crazy. If Y/N’s body was a machine, Steve had memorized the instruction manual forwards and backwards by now.

“Uh huh.” The girl nodded. “P-Please-”

“‘Please’ what, beautiful?”

She got up on shaky elbows, looking him in the eye. “Please fuck me.” She watched as Steve grinned like the ‘Cheshire Cat’, standing up and moving towards the drawer where they kept the condoms. “Wait, though.”

The Captain stopped. “What?”

“D-Do we really need to use one?” Y/N spoke nervously, suddenly unsure of herself. “I mean, I am on the pill. And, uh, I’d love to feel you tonight.”

Steve smiled even brighter than before, heading back towards the bed. “That sounds great, baby girl.” He used his fingers to spread her hole further open, scissoring them as wide as they could go. He then lined himself up with her wanting vagina, arms resting beside her head. “Ready?”

Y/N nodded once again before feeling his tip push into her, mewling at the sensation. As Steve bottomed out, she let out a heavy sigh of pleasure. Feeling him without the protection was a whole new realm of enjoyment, and she looked forward to many more years of it in the future.

The man began to push in and out, building up speed as he went. He lifted Y/N’s legs over his shoulders to hit a deeper angle, reaching a hand down play with her clit.

“I n-need to cum, honey.” Y/N whined, fingernails scraping up and down Steve’s back. She knew that there’d be marks, but his super soldier serum would heal them right away.

“Cum with me, N/N.” He told her, leaning down to kiss her on the lips. “Together, babydoll.”

And so they did. The squeeze of Y/N’s walls around his member and the feel of her warm juices surrounding his bare cock was enough to trigger Steve’s own release. He spilled inside of her, and the feeling felt so foreign, yet so amazing to the both of them. It was the first time that they’d orgasmed as husband and wife, and to say that the pair was satisfied would be an understatement.

Marriage: Consummated.

Next Chapter

Feedback is always welcome!

Taglist: @crist1216 @songforhema @the-obsessive-fangirl @stressedandbandobessed7771 @straightforwardly @fruitypebbles34 @krazykatkay456 @the-kang-bang @uhh-katie-griffiths @mcuclintasha @capsiclesdoll @allsortsofinterests @nova3312 @tyes-girl @kind-sober-fullydressed @mschrisaholic @shirukitsune @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction

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hotforharrison · 5 years

Text

Club Utopia (Oneshot)

Masterlist

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield/Reader

Summary: Meeting Harrison during your first visit to a sex club.

Word Count: 2,001

Warnings: Language and smut, my usual go-tos.

A/N: I first posted this for Writers Wednesday on @the-sha-official0hazanon‘s blog! I seriously recommend checking him out. He’s the best Haz anon ever.

There was nothing on the exterior of the building that would indicate it was a sex club, not that you had particularly expected there to be a glowing sign saying ‘SEX CLUB’ on it.

You nervously walked into the lobby and approached the counter.

“Welcome to Club Utopia. I’ll need you to read over these rules for the club and sign a form. I’ll also need your ID,” the girl behind the counter told you. “We accept cash or card for the cover.”

You skimmed the rules that you’d already read on their website before you’d chosen to come, signed the form, handed over your ID, and paid the cover.

“You’re set now. Enjoy!” The girl returned her attention to her phone as you walked toward the entrance to the club itself.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but this wasn’t quite it.

The inside of the club was dimly lit with blue lighting, and the only other patrons you could see were two women sitting close together. They looked up at you for a moment and then returned to their conversation.

The televisions mounted to the wall were showing low quality porn, an orgy set at a frat party. Since no one was around yet that piqued your interest, you chose to ignore the porn in favor of paying attention to your phone for the moment.

Hopefully, you hadn’t just wasted your Friday night.

You got distracted on your social media and were quite startled when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, is this seat taken, love?” a smooth male British accent asked from beside you.

The accent was an immediate turn-on, not something you encountered often living an entire ocean away from England.

You glanced up at him. The first thing you noticed was his pale blue eyes, striking even in the dim light. Although you couldn’t see him perfectly with the lights as low as they were, he was still definitely the hottest guy who had ever paid attention to you.

At that moment, you decided to go for it. You came to the sex club for a reason, after all.

“It’s not,” you told him with a smile.

“I’m Harrison,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Harrison. You’re far away from home,” you commented.

“I travel a lot for work,” he explained.

You wanted to ask more about him, but you weren’t sure what was appropriate to ask a sex club patron, eventually blurting out, “so, what brings you here?”

“You mean what brings me to a sex club?” he asked with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows.

“Sorry, I’ve never been to one of these before, and I’m a little nervous,” you said, sheepishly.

“Honestly, I haven’t either,” he confessed. “This isn’t like meeting girls in a pub. I guess I’ll just outright ask. Would you like to go to one of the private rooms with me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” you answered, so excited at the prospect of what was about to happen that you almost knocked over your chair as you got up.

He laughed softly to himself at your eagerness.

You followed him across the main floor into one of the private rooms, shutting the door behind you.

The room was small. There was a padded bed with no bedding and a small table containing a bowl with packets of lube and condoms in it, with a wastebasket on the floor next to it. A TV mounted on the wall was showing the same low quality porn from the main floor.

You stood in front of him silently, started to fidget.

“So, uh…” you trailed off awkwardly.

Harrison opened and closed his mouth, looking a bit lost. He leaned down to kiss you, but immediately pulled away. “Shit, one second.”

You were momentarily worried that he’d changed his mind, but you were relieved when you saw he just went to the wastebasket to spit his gum out.

“Sorry about that. I’m usually smoother than this,” he apologized.

“I’m not, if we’re being perfectly honest here,” you admitted.

He chuckled. “Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” you responded, leaning up to kiss him as he leaned down.

You met his soft and warm lips with your own. The kiss was never really chaste, his tongue quick to dart out and slip between your already parted lips. He tasted slightly cinnamony as he brushed his tongue unhurriedly against yours.

He moaned quietly into your mouth when you stopped being a passive partner, your tongue making its way into his mouth. You traced his perfect teeth, then explored his mouth slowly and thoroughly.

You lost track of time, completely engrossed in the kiss, only returning to awareness when his hands slid down your mostly bare back to squeeze and massage your ass through the thin material of your tight dress. He tugged you completely flush against him.

One of his hands slipped up underneath the hem of your dress, finding its way in-between your thighs from behind.

He broke the kiss, breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows raised. “You’re not wearing panties, darling?”

You grinned. “Where are we right now?”

He smiled back. “Point taken.”

You spread your legs as much as you could in the confines of your dress, to give him more room to work with, but it wasn’t enough for your liking.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, tugging the offending garment over your head.

He chuckled. “No bra either, I see. Not that I have a problem with that. Less in the way.”

His head dipped to take one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it. His fingers now easily found their way between your folds, going for your clit immediately and rubbing slickly around the sensitive nub.

“Oh my god.” Your knees started to buckle, but he fortunately stabilized you with his arm from behind.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he mumbled against the skin of your breast, two long fingers pressing into you while his thumb took over on your clit.

“Talk to me?” you requested breathily.

“Like dirty talk?” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you responded, nodding.

“Love how wet you are for me. Tight, too. Gonna have to loosen you up some first before I can get my cock into you, though.” A third finger pushed in, next to the other two, scissoring slightly as he continued to pump them in and out of you and rub your clit. “Your pussy will feel so fucking amazing around my cock, I can’t wait. I promise I’ll fill you up better than anyone else ever has.”

The combination of what he was doing with his hand and the dirty talk in his delicious accent had you close. “Want to cum, please, Harrison.”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely.” His thumb worked your clit faster, and he fingered you a bit rougher, aiming more directly for your g-spot.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned as your climax hit you harder than a brick wall, burying your fingers in the fabric of Harrison’s shirt while the sparks of pleasure coursed through you.

As you came down from your high, his motions gentled, until he finally stopped. He let you slump against him bonelessly.

He lifted you like a limp ragdoll and carried you over to the bed, gently depositing you on it, before he stepped back to strip off his own clothes.

“Hey, what if I wanted to undress you?” you complained, watching as he kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt.

“You’re in no state to do that right now, and I’ve been dressed plenty long enough. I’m in town for another four weeks anyway, if you’re interested in a repeat performance,” he offered.

“We’ll see. You might have a disappointing dick,” you teased.

“I seriously doubt it, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He undid his pants and shucked them and his boxers at the same time.

You looked him over, from head to toe. He was leanly muscled, with endless planes of smooth skin waiting to be touched. It left you eager to get your hands on him. You saved what you hoped to be the best for last, and you definitely weren’t disappointed.

His cock rested against his stomach, looking achingly hard, precum glistening at the tip. It wasn’t huge by any stretch, but it would be more than enough to fill you up. Maybe not the most you’d ever been filled up, or enough to ruin you for other men for the rest of your life, but you knew you were going to leave the club a very satisfied woman.

“Like what you see?” he eventually asked.

“I do,” you replied, simply. “You should come over here now.”

He smiled. “It would be my pleasure.”

You watched as he made a quick stop at the bowl of condoms and lube.

He grabbed a condom of the bowl, fumbling a bit because of how quickly he tried to remove it from the wrapper and roll it down his length. It was obvious that he was just as desperate for you as you were for him.

You spread your legs and waited impatiently for him to join you on the bed.

“Look so pretty like this,” he commented, hands brushing lightly against your knees as he slotted himself between your thighs.

“Thank you. If you want me to move some other way, I can. I mean I’m not sure what your favorite position is,” you said. “I’m happy with whatever you want.”

“This is perfect. Missionary is sort of underrated in my opinion,” he told you, lining himself up and pushing into you in one long thrust. After he was all the way in, he lowered himself on top of you and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. “Need me to stay still for a minute?”

“Thank you for offering, but I think I’m good,” you replied. “I really want you to move right now.”

“Your wish is my command.” He rocked his hips against yours slowly, increasing the length and speed of his thrusts gradually, until he was finally fucking you at a just about perfect pace and depth.

You rolled your hips back into his thrusts until you found a rhythm you both liked, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tighter against you.

His mouth met yours in wet and sloppy kisses, sometimes barely more than moaning and breathing heavily into each other’s mouths.

You snaked a hand between your bodies to get yourself off again before he came, but he pushed it aside.

“Let me,” he breathed. His hand replaced yours, fingers collecting some of your wetness near your entrance. Then, he started rubbing slick circles around your clit.

“Getting close,” you told him as your second orgasm of the night approached. It came much quicker than you’d anticipated, and even harder than the first one.

Your body clenched and pulsed around his cock, milking him, and bringing him over the edge with you.

He came with a loud groan, thrusts growing rougher and more erratic as he spilled into the condom. When his climax finally ebbed, he collapsed on top of you.

A comfortable silence stretched between you as you both recovered, heart rates gradually slowing and breathing evening out.

“How do you feel about pancakes?” he eventually asked.

“Um, they’re fine, I guess?” you responded, confused. “What do pancakes have to do with anything?”

“That was me asking you if you want to join me at IHOP. I’m hungry, and I saw one around the corner. They’re open 24 hours,” he explained.

You laughed. “Sure, why not? Going to IHOP in the middle of the night with a guy I met at a sex club wearing a skimpy dress with nothing on underneath it probably wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He smiled at you. “Sounds like you’ve got stories to tell me, pretty girl.”

“Sounds like I do,” you agreed, smiling back.

@adayasgeorgia @moorehollandplz @thollandss @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug @robbinholland @strang-ersclub @hollandisapuppy @goldenpeaxh @legendsofwholock @superheroesaremytea @tomblrholland @niiight-dreamerrrr @spidermanffh3000 @devildisguiseasangel @theyy-lovemo @eeyore101247 @angelhaz11 @i-love-scott-mccall @farfromhaz @cherry-holland @jinx4karma @definitely-not-black-cat @lizzyosterfield

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield reader #harrison osterfield reader insert #haz osterfield

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best Part of Me -Chapter 12

Warnings: none

Tagging: @alievans007, @thunderintheshadows, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y

Preparing to leave the house with five kids in tow is a full-time job all in itself. Bathing them after a long and active day at school, getting them dressed –which includes incessant bitching and moaning about the textures of clothes and how the tags are ‘too itchy’, having to actually put on socks and shoes-, and giving them the usual list of warnings before even stepping out the front door. No arguing, no fighting, and no bad language. And by the time you manage to get to the front door, at least two have to go to the bathroom and another wants to change what they’re wearing. This time it’s Millie; her self-described princess dress suddenly not ‘princessy enough’. Opting for one with more frills and more sparkles and way too much pink, then insisting on topping the look off with her well-worn light up Spiderman sandals. Tyler had long ago learned to pick his battles, especially as a girl dad. Was suggesting nicer shoes really worth the epic diva style meltdown he’d have to endure? Especially when he’d rather be in flip flops or even bare foot himself?

“I honestly do not care,” he says, when she holds aloft the sandals with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. Other parents would force their kids to comply; embarrassed by the mismatched lock. But he’s gotten so used to carting around boys dressed in superhero costumes –masks and all- that the stares and whispers of strangers don’t both him anymore. And fighting over shoes with a soon to be six-year-old is not the hill he wants to die on. “Do what you want.”

For a brief moment –as he buckles the three oldest into the their car seats in the very back of their second, and much larger, vehicle, he muses about just how different his was now is compared to the one that he used to live. When he was drunk off of his practically twenty-four seven, numbing the pain, guilt, and grief with a potent combination of booze and pain meds. Back in that little shack of his in the Outback, with nothing but a dog and a chicken to keep him company. When he was totally committed to the job and spending his days fighting to keep himself –and quite often someone else- alive in dangerous situations. When he was battered and bloody and sometimes on the brink of death. Now he’s proficient in changing diapers, fixing bottles, and making and packing school lunches. A far cry from the old days. And for a brief moment, the thought makes him feels sad; that his existence is nothing more than a mere shadow of what it used to be. That he’s gone from one extreme to the other. And it shouldn’t; he’d made the conscious decision to give it all up. For his family. So he’d be able to hold his marriage together.

And the sadness is replaced with guilt; that he’d miss the job while getting the opportunity to even have kids and watch them grow. A lot of guys in the job weren’t so lucky; they either never turned alive to their wives and kids, or their marriages completely disintegrated, and they never saw their children again. That’s his worst nightmare; things falling apart and either rarely getting to spend time with them, or not being able to see them at all. Being a dad has given him something to take pride in; raising tiny humans that will hopefully one day grow up to be amazing big humans. Decent adults with compassion and humility. Fiercely independent. Alarmingly intelligent. And it’s given him a chance to finally do it right. He’d been an epic failure as a father with Austin; he’d been cowardly and selfish and would never truly forgive himself for it. But he’d been given another chance; entrusted with helping bring five beautiful lives into the world. And he’s determined not to fuck that up.

“I don’t wanna wear shoes!” TJ laments, and proceeds to use his toes to push his sneakers off one heel, then the other, letting the offending items fall to the floor of the SUV.

“Listen, mate. We’re not going to fight about this. If your mum says you wear shoes, you wear the shoes.”

“This is crap!” Tanner chimes in. “My feet are so hot! Like they’re gonna catch on fire!”

“No one’s feet are going to catch on fire,” Tyler assures him. “You’re wearing the thinnest socks possible. We get there, the shoes go back on. And how come you guys don’t have to wear normal pants?” They’re clad in matching tan cargo shorts; one in a green and white stripped golf shirt, the other in blue and white. Always insisting on matching in some way, despite the fact their parents have purposely dressing them differently from day one.

“’Cause we’re only five!” Tanner huffs, as if he’s just been subjected to the dumbest question that’s ever been asked in the history of mankind.

“By the way,” Tyler says, as he finishes buckling Tanner into his seat. “I want my fifteen bucks back that you scammed me out of the other night.”

“I got that money fair and square,” his son argues. “I got you the info just like you asked.”

“Your mom gave me the info. Which technically means half of the money should go to her.”

“It’s not my fault that you fell for it, daddy. You should be smarter than that. You got totally played by a five-year-old.”

“He’s not wrong,” Esme says as she appears alongside of him, clutching Declan by the hand, the baby resting along her forearm. “You did fall for it.”

“You’re in on this together, aren’t you? You probably put him up to it. You’ve been teaching him some of the tricks of the trade. Getting him ready to follow in your footsteps. I bet he even split the money with you.”

“Please just put the kids in the car before we’re really late,” she implores, then stands on her tip toes to brush her lips against his. Which in turns prompts loud and dramatic gagging from all three of the older kids.

“Don’t do that!” TJ cries. “We don’t need any more babies in the house! Why can’t we have a puppy for a change? I don’t want any more sisters!”

“Well I don’t want any more brothers either,” Millie retorts, and sticks her tongue at him.

“Okay, don’t start.” Esme warns. “At least wait until we’re out of the driveway. And besides, it takes a lot more than that to get a baby brother or sister.”

“Like what?” Millie inquires.”

“Like none of your business,” Tyler replies as he tends to Declan, scooping him of the ground and settling him into his car seat. “Besides, there won’t be any more brothers or sisters. It’s not possible.”

“Can we get a dog then?” Tanner asks

“We already have a dog,” his mother reminds him.

“Let’s get another one!” Millie enthuses. “A puppy!”

“I have enough mouths to feed and barely any sanity left.” Esme says, and passes the baby to her husband, who arches a brow and stares at her pointedly over the dog comment. “Not you too!”

“It’s not a bad idea. We’ve got the room. Inside and outside.”

“Please don’t encourage them. They won’t stop talking about it now. They’re going to ask a million times a day about getting a puppy and I don’t think my mental well-being can take it.”

“We’ll talk about it,” he says, then kisses her and shit the SUV door.

“Oh, you think so do you,” she grins, then runs her hands across his shoulders and down his chest; smoothing out the wrinkles in his simple white dress shirt., the first three buttons undone and no tie; paired with dark washed jeans that fit ‘just right’. Beard still full but neatly trimmed, the product in his hair giving it that unruly ‘bed head’ look. “You clean up nice.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself.” he chides, and then places a hand on her hip and leans into her, pressing a kiss to her ear. “You look beautiful,” he praises, as his hand slides up the middle of her back. The dress is simple and modest; emerald green and off the shoulder, flaring out at the waist and just skimming the bottom of her knees.

She’s still self-conscious about her post-baby body; she’d on twenty-five pounds and had damaged to drop fifteen of them seemingly overnight after Addie was born. She hates the extra weight that clings to her hips and gathers at her waist; despises the stretch marks that mar her skin. Yet to him they just make her even more beautiful; the signs left behind that she’s given him children. There’s no woman in the world that could ever hold a candle to her. It stretches far beyond physical appearance. It’s her strength and her tenacity and the loyalty that that she’s always shown towards him and their kids. And it’s the way she looks at him; as if he’s the most incredible man on the planet even though there’s times he’s shown he’s anything but.

A slight blush creeps into her cheeks. Even after six and a half years of marriage she’s still not used to his random compliments. Mark had all but destroyed every ounce of self-esteem she’d ever had, so Tyler had taken it upon himself to help rebuilt it every chance he got. Whether it’s when she’d dressed up with her done and make up on, or when she’s worn down from lack sleep and her hair is messy and she’s still in her pajamas with baby puke stains on them.

“I’m serious,” he says, as his hand slides down to the small of her back and his lips find hers; soft, slow, simple kiss. “You look incredible.”

She smiles. A genuine, glowing smile that lights up her entire face and makes her eyes sparkle and dance. And with her hands on his chest, she stands on her tip toes once again and places a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then lays her hand against the side of his face and runs the end of pad of her thumb over his lips, her eyes never leaving his.

It’s the sincerest ‘thank you’ he’s ever received.

****

Nik and Kyle have a room at Sovreign Resort Hotel, and they’ve arranged to meet on the outdoor patio belonging to the in-house restaurant. It’s better for the kids; no cooping them up in a crowded, busy room and expecting them to sit still and keep quiet. Being outside gives them a chance to breathe; away from the hustle and bustle and all the judgmental stares and comments if they dare step out of line. There are gardens and fishponds to investigate when they get bored or agitated and need some time to decompress, and room for a high chair for Declan and Addie’s stroller, giving her a comfortable and safe place to retreat to while the others eat and converse.

“Now I know why we don’t go out more often,” Esme comments, as she notices the curious looks and hears the comments tossed their way. A fairly young couple with so many kids, all close together in age. Most find it cute; drawn to the twins in their complimenting outfits and Millie in her princess dress, but there’s the bitchy people as well. The ‘children should be seen and not heard’ crowd that find it ridiculous –and maybe even disgusting- that people are willingly having such large families in this day and age. “People are staring at us,” she frets. “And whispering.”

Tyler moves Declan from one hip to the other, than lays a hand on the back of her neck and gives it a comforting squeeze. “Want me to tell them that I have weak pull out game? Lighten the mood?”

“I’d laugh but I wouldn’t but it past you do actually do something like that. Seriously, what is everyone’s issue?”

“Who gives a shit. Just ignore it. Maybe it bothers them because it’s obvious by all the kids that we’ve had more sex in five years than they’ve had in fifty.”

Normally it would aggravate him, that kind of attention and all the talk. But he’d taken half a dozen Ativan before getting out of the car and the effects are already starting to take hold. He’s relaxed. The calmest he’s been in the past four days. Although he’s pretty sure having to be in Nik’s presence and enduring her version of ‘small talk’ will change that.

Nik and Kyle have already arrived; sitting side by side at a large table near the edge of the patio, leaning into one another, foreheads nearly touching as they talk, their hands joined on top of the table.

“I’m going to be sick,” Esme mutters. “Ughhhh. The way she’s looking at him. He’s way too good for her. Let’s just leave. I don’t think they’ve seen us yet. If we just sneak out now...”

Kyle has spotted them and is already on his feet and making his way towards them; the kids so focused on their surroundings that they’re completely unsuspecting until he’s within five feet, noisily clearing his throat to grab their attention.

“Uncle Kyle!” Millie cries, and is the first to break away, the soles of those old sandals flapping against the concreate patio as she rushes to where he’s already crouched down, arms outstretched, gathering her into them and pulling her tight against him.

The twins follow suit; shrieking his name as they run towards him, finding themselves enveloped by his strong arms and gathered into a bear hug along with their sister. Tears sparkling in Kyle’s eyes as he showers them with kisses and tousles their hair and listens to their excited ramblings; all three talking at the same time, filling him in on all the excitement and adventures they’ve experienced in the past six months. And Tyler notices that Nik doesn’t budge from the table, sipping at a glass of wine and never acknowledging the scene playing out in front of her.

“Wish me luck,” Esme sighs, and he gives a reassuring before taken Declan from him, carrying him on her hip and pushing the baby in the stroller as she herds the other three towards the table to get them settled.

He watches as the two women exchange tight lipped smiles; Esme’s one of lingering bitterness and anger, Nik’s filled with a hint of remorse and maybe even regret. And how his wife holds it together despite wanting to completely unleash on her old friend; instead patiently getting the kids settled and Declan strapped into a highchair. He knows it’s difficult for her; his ‘history’ with Nik still the elephant that lingers in the room, the other issues that she’s caused over the past six and a half years adding insult to injury.

“Good to see you, man,” Kyle gives him an awkward one-armed hug and then claps him on the shoulder. “What the has she been feeding you? You’re a fucking tank.”

“Just a lot of hours in the gym. Gotta keep myself busy somehow. Things are good with you?”

Their relationship has been strained; not just because of the thousands of miles between them and Kyle holding him responsible for yet again ‘stealing’ his sister, but the ongoing hostility with Nik. The last time they’d talked, Tyler hadn’t been kind; letting her know to stay the hell away from him, to never contact him again. He’d been harsh. He’s the first one to admit that. But it had worked. At least until now.

“Things are good,” Kyle says, and then glances over his shoulder at Nik, a smile curving his lips. “Things are really good. What about here? You guys are doing alright? The kids seem happier.”

“We’re all happier. It was the right thing to do. Coming back here.”

“She’s struggling though,” Kyle nods in the direction of his sister. “Don’t even try and tell me she’s not.”

“She’d be struggling a lot less if you have just listened and kept Nik away. It wasn’t enough you’re marrying her considering everything in the past? You had to make things worse by bringing her here?”

“We hadn’t heard from you guys yet. About the wedding.”

“And that means you come all the way here and fuck things up? You have a phone. You've got the internet. Send an email. Don’t just show up. We’re still trying to get past all of this. Nik and her shit, the job.”

"It was her idea. Nik’s. To come here and try and make things. Patch things up. I told her that I didn’t know if either you or Esme were ready for that that yet, but....”

He frowns. “It was her idea?”

Kyle nods. “She wanted to make amends. In person.”

“She told you that? That that’s why we wanted to come here?”

You poor delusional bastard, Tyler thinks. Kyle’s being played and manipulated in the say way she’d messed with him. Nik always has an ulterior motive. And Kyle is either blind to it, doesn’t give a shit, or genuinely doesn’t realize what she’s capable of.

He decides it’s the latter.

“We want you guys at the wedding,” Kyle says. “I mean, if it wasn’t for you and Esme, we never would have met.”

He feels as if he should apologize in advance. Because six months from now, Kyle’s going to realize just what kind of shit show he’s gotten himself into. “

“And we want the kids there,” Kyle continues. “Millie could be the flower girl, the twins could be junior ushers, Declan could carry the ring up. We want it to be a family affair.

The last thing Tyler wants it to be stuck anywhere with Esme’s family. He doesn’t give a shit about their feelings towards him. If they want to spend the rest of their lives hating him and viewing him as the enemy, so be it. But the way they’ve treated her.... his wife...is unacceptable. And the worst place to air those grievances is at the wedding of the only member of that clan he can actually stand.

“Won’t be the same without all of you,” Kyle says. “I mean, we’re family.”

Tyler wouldn’t go that far. You usually don’t become family with someone you used to casually fuck,

“This is a big deal for her,” his brother in law continues. “Wanting to come here. Wanting to make things right.”

“And you really think that’s why she wanted to come here?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She hasn’t given me a reason not to believe her. Why?” his eyes narrow. “You know something I don’t know.”

“I don’t think you know Nik as well as you think you do,” Tyler says, then gives him a sympathetic pat on shoulder before heading for the table.

****

“You’re here to take daddy away, aren’t you.” Millie voice is accusatory and full of venom; eyes narrowed as she regards Nik from across the table.

Dinner is long finished; all dirty dishes and cutlery cleared away in favor of tea and coffee for the adults and ice cream for the kids. His daughter has been glued to his side all night, Nik bringing out the clingy and protective side of her. Nearly causing a fight with Tanner when he initially wouldn’t give up the seat to Tyler’s right. Then climbing up into his lap as soon as the meal was finished; sitting sideways on his thighs, an arm curled tightly around his neck.

Esme shifts uncomfortably beside him, then noisily clears her throat and reaches for a glass of ice water. He takes her hand, squeezing it tightly before placing their joined hands on her thigh.

“No one is taking anyone away,” he assures his daughter.

“That's what you said last time,” Millie reminds him. “And then you were gone forever.”

“Well this time is different. I’m not going anywhere. Uncle Kyle just came to see you guys. So she tagged along. Nothing more than that.”

“She is your Aunt,” Kyle speaks up. “It’s okay if you guys call her that even if certain people don’t want to acknowledge it or accept it.”

Esme clears her throat once more, hand tightening around Tyler’s.

Millie isn’t convinced. “If I wake up tomorrow and my daddy's gone, I’m going to be really pissed!”

“Okay, calm down,” Tyler presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m still going to be here when you wake up tomorrow. So just relax, okay? Take it easy.”

Millie turns to face him, then kneels on his laps as she leans in close and whispers. “I don’t trust her, daddy.”

“It’s a long way to come,” Esme pipes up. “Just because you missed the kids. Web cam chats do exist, you know.”

“It’s not the same,” Kyle says. “And things are slow right now for Nik and I had some vacation time owe to me, so...well...here we are.”

“Yeah,” Esme gives a tense smile. “Here you guys are.”

Tyler moves Mille over to his other thigh, then let’s go his wife’s hand in favor of laying his arm across the back of her chair, thumb repeatedly brushing against her shoulder.

“We thought it was time to smooth things out,” Kyle explains. “Before the wedding. So things aren’t tense that day like they are now. I mean, it’s been six months. Time to let it go, don’t you think.”

“I think you’re underestimating what the nearly six years before were like,” his sister calmly responds. “Or am I just supposed to pretend they never happened? That she...sorry.... you...” she looks over at Nik. “...never pulled all the bullshit you did?”

“Mommy.” Tanner looks up from his ice cream. “That’s a bad word. Daddy said no bad words tonight.”

“You’re right,” she says, and then gives her son a smile and wraps an arm around him, drawing him tight against her. “Bad mommy,” she scolds herself, and then runs her fingers through his hair and places a kiss to his cheek.

“No one is saying that you have to forget about all of that or pretend it never happened.” Kyle informs her. “But wouldn’t you rather iron things out so you’re carrying around so much animosity?”

“Oh, that’s rich, K. Maybe you should be addressing your future wife’s animosity. And how she was so pissed at Tyler and I that she was willing to leave us both on a bridge in Dhaka to die.”

“Okay...no one needs to hear about this,” Tyler says, and rubs her shoulder. “Especially little ears.”

“I’ve already apologized for that,” Nik finally speaks. “Countless times. But things didn’t exactly happen the way you think they did.”

Esme snorts. “Spare me, Nik. Yaz told me all I needed to know. So don’t waste your breath lying to me. Dhaka was a total crap show and you just went ahead and made it even worse.”

“Alright, settle down,” Tyler implores, and then leans sideways to press a kiss to her temple, lips settling against her ear. “The kids do not need to hear this. Any of this. Okay? Can you stop? For me? Please?”

She reluctantly nods.

“It was Nik’s idea to come here,” Kyle says. “She wanted to patch things up. With both of you. So we could be part of the kids’ lives. They deserve to have family. Are you going to let your ego get in the way of what’s best for them?”

“Whoa...whoa...” Tyler comes to his wife’s defense. “...that’s way out of line, mate. Don't use her kids against her. Don’t ever accuse of not doing what’s for her kids. Our kids. Don’t stoop that low or you are I are going to have problems.”

“I’m just saying that...”

“I know what you’re saying. But find another way to say. Because I won’t let you disrespect the mother of my children like that.”

Nik gives a dramatic sigh. “Obviously the two of you are still holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger and this was a total waste of our time.”

“We’re holding onto a lot of bitterness and anger?” Esme retorts, then laughs. “Says the woman who couldn’t handle that her with friend with benefits met someone and decided to move on with his life. The same woman who was so mad about it that she spent six years trying to get my husband to cheat on me? Or are you going to pretend none of that ever happened?”

“And I’ve apologized for that, Esme. But you’re just so childish and petty that you can't let it go.”

‘Well I’m sorry, Nik. Maybe I’m not comfortable with my husband’s old side piece becoming my sister in law.”

“There’s kids here,” Tyler reminds them both. “They don’t need to hear this. Either settle down or just drop it.”

Esme glares at him. “And suddenly you’re on her side?”

“I’m on your side. I’m always on your side. But I’m also on the side of my kids not having to hear this stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve heard a lot worse,” Nik snidely remarks. “With you as their father.”

Esme’s eyes narrow. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what he’s like. The mouth on him. I’m just saying that I’m sure the kids have heard a lot worse than what we’re talking about.”

“How about you just leave my kids out of this,” Esme suggests. “Or is that the real issue? That they’re my kids...with him...and not yours.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kyle moans. “Not this again.”

“That’s what really pissed off six and a half years ago, wasn’t it, Nik. The fact that you wanted more than just the dick and he wouldn’t give it to you. It just pissed you off when he met me and all of sudden he was getting married, having kids, enjoying a normal life. That’s what really bugged you. What still bugs you.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Tyler asks. “Do you really think the kids need to know this kind of shit?”

Esme ignores him. “Why don’t you tell Kyle the real reason you’re here, Nik. And don’t lie and say it was to repair things between us. Tell the truth for once. Tell him you’re here to screw things up all over again.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about this now,” Nik says. “This was supposed to be about coming together and sitting down and ironing things out. To patch things up and see the kids and...”

“I think we should call it a night,” Tyler suggests. “It’s getting late and the kids are tired and have school tomorrow.”

“No,” Esme responds. “We’re not leaving. She’s going to come clear to my brother about what she’s really here for. How she used our kids as an excuse to come here. Tell him, Nik. Tell him exactly what you came all this way for.”

“Esme,” Tyler warns. “...not here...please.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Kyle. It isn’t for my husband’s dick. For once. It’s all business, isn’t it, Nik. It’s all about the job. And you trying to manipulate Tyler into helping you.”

“Would you stop,” Tyler tightly squeezes her shoulder. “Enough. Stop Not here. Not now. And not in front of the kids.”

“Nik wants to hire Ovi to be a mercenary,” Esme announces. “Ovi. Of all goddamn people.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Tyler orders. “If you two wants to hash it out or kick the crap out of each other, go do it somewhere else. Just not in front of my kids.”

“You’d think she’d have more comment sense than that because of everything Ovi went through in Dhaka,” Esme continues. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised considering we wanted us to leave him in the street like a piece of trash. She probably wanted Tyler to leave me there too. Because I was the obstacle in the way or getting what she really wanted.”

“Is this true?” Kyle address Nik. “That’s why you really wanted to come here? To hire Ovi?”

“Oh, not just that,” Esme informs him. “She wants Tyler’s help. She wants him to train Ovi before she sends him off to be killed. She probably wants more than that. She always has.”

“Okay, we’re going.” Tyler tightens his hold on Millie and stands up. “Enough. I’ve had enough. I said not to do this, and you did it anyway. Let’s go.”

“I want to know if any of this is true,” Kyle says. “If that’s the real reason we ended up here. Is it?” he looks back at Nik. “IT had nothing do with fixing things, did it. It was all bullshit. Just to get something you want.”

“That’s Nik’s M.O,” Esme smirks. “That’s all she ever cares about. Getting what she wants. And trying to destroy anyone that stands in her way.”

“Why would you do this?” Nik hisses. “Stoop this low?”

“Now you know how it feels,” Esme give a victorious smile as she stands up. “Doesn’t feel good, does it? Having some bitch trying to fuck your life up.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tyler snarls. “Let’s just go. Enough. You’ve said enough.”

“Oh, I have more tons more I could say.”

“Well another time, another place. We’re leaving. Now.” His tone is demanding. Authoritative. But his face remains calm as he gathers up all the kids; Declan on one hip, Millie on the other. “Let’s go guys,” he says to the twins. “Home time.”

“Thank God,” Tanner huffs. “Adult stuff is so boring.”

Kyle hurries after them as they leave, catching Tyler by the arm before he can get out the side entrance of the patio. “I am so fucking sorry. I had no idea what she was up to,” he says, as Esme and the twins –with TJ pushing the baby stroller- continue the walk to the car. “She told me that she wanted to come here and fix things. And so I could see the kids. I had no clue she had an ulterior motive.”

“That’s one thing about Nik. She always has an ulterior motive. I’m sorry, too. That you had to find out that way. Esme should have just kept her mouth shut. For tonight at least. I tried, but...” Tyler shrugs. “...she doesn’t always listen to me.”

“She doesn’t listen to anyone,” Kyle gives a dry laugh. You guys going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine. She’ll get home and go off on me for a bit and then she’ll calm down. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. I’m used to it after six and a half years. Good luck with Nik, though. You’re going to need it.”

Kyle frowns and runs a hand over the back of his head. “That bad, huh?”

“Mate, you have idea. If she boots you out and you need a place to crash, you know where to find us.”

“Yeah, don’t be surprised if you come out in the morning and find me drunk and passed out on the beach.”

Tyler smirks. “There’s been times I wished I was loaded and passed out on the beach, believe me. I am sorry. That your sister went off like that. But you were going to find out sooner or later.”

“Better sooner if you ask me.” Kyle says. “Tell her I’m sorry. That you’re dragged back into this shit. Into that life. Esme deserves better than that.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “She does.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #best part of me #extraction #chris hemsworth character

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beckzorz · 5 years

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Dressed to Kill: Killer Shoes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Words: 9852 Summary: Ever since Bucky found you on that island beach, you’ve been each others’ best-kept secret. So why are you looking at him like he’s a stranger when you’re supposed to be miles away? Warnings: NSFW (language, smut), 18+ A/N: Sequel to Dressed to Kill, one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, for @jewelofwinter‘s 1.5k writing challenge! Congrats to my dear Jessica on this awesome milestone! My prompt was booze. Hope you enjoy!!!

Sidestepping a tipsy woman’s flailing arm, Bucky snags a fingernail-sized quiche off a passing waiter’s tray. He pops it whole in his mouth, ignoring the snort of derision from the comm device hidden by his ear.

“Jesus, Barnes, you’re supposed to be the classy one.”

“Shoulda sent Wilson,” Bucky mutters as he dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

Hill just chuckles. “Yeah, probably. If only he wasn’t the most recognizable superhero in America.”

How he manages to keep from rolling his eyes is a mystery. Thankfully, Hill doesn’t say anything else, even when Bucky makes the mistake of licking his fingers after eating a tiny, glistening slider.

For some reason, the cocktail party spirit is evading him tonight. Hill doesn’t know why, but she sure as hell knows he’s not on top of his game. If Sam were here, he’d be giving Bucky even more bullshit than Hill.

Well, Bucky knows the reason if no one else does. No one else had better know.

You’re his secret.

He’d be doing better if he didn’t know you were in town. He might have smuggled you a ticket, finagled your help, done something more fun than this private eye bullshit somewhere private—but no, you’re working too.

A different place, different mission, different target.

Presumably a different end goal, too. Well, whatever. Hill might judge, Wilson definitely would, but Bucky’s done too much murdering of his own to give a fuck if you’re off murdering someone who deserves it tonight.

He assumes they deserve it. You might have unconventional methods of making the world a better place, but that’s what you’re doing.

What he’s doing, too, even if tonight is the biggest pain in his ass since that long mission posing as security in Ukraine. If only you weren’t working. God, how nice that would’ve been. Bad table manners aside, he’s done his job. There’s loads of nooks and crannies in this place that’d be perfect for—

Bucky chokes on his champagne.

A woman just walked in. Black dress, deep lipstick, killer heels. Under all that, a face and body to die for.

It’s you.

Bucky turns away, face hot. He wipes his mouth as daintily as he can to disguise the utter bafflement he feels. Is the room warmer than before? He can’t tell. All he knows is that the mingling crowd is too much. Last time he’d seen you in a crowd…

He surreptitiously adjusts his pants. Best not to think about that now.

What the hell are you doing here? Did you finish your mission? How the hell did you even get a ticket?

He traces the outline of his phone in his breast pocket. It’s quiet. Can he sneak it out for a look, or is that too rude?

No, fuck that, he doesn’t need to look. If you’d called, or even texted, his phone would’ve vibrated.

Why didn’t you call?

Hell, why aren’t you looking at him? Talking to him? Running your hand down his lapel…

Bucky chances it. He turns around, but you’re leaning against the bar, eyes resolutely elsewhere. Mission be damned; the assignment can wait a few minutes. He makes his way through the crowd, silk dresses whooshing against his suit as he squeezes between clusters of the rich and ambitious.

He’s not the only one stunned by you. You’re smiling coyly at the bartender, whose eyes keep drifting back to you as he mixes a drink and slides it your way.

Huh. Bucky’s never seen you drink a martini before.

You stir the olive through your drink, eyes drifting down the bar and passing over Bucky with no more feeling than if you were looking at a stranger.

A chill runs down his spine.

You’re good at your job, damn good, but there’s never been a single moment that you haven’t reacted to the sight of him. For the first time, Bucky looks closer. The curve of your neck, the size of your breasts…

Ah.

Quite.

He orders a whiskey from the bartender, props himself on the bar with his elbows, and tugs his phone out of his pocket. Clicks off his comm device. Dials a number. Waits. His lips curl into a smirk when someone picks up.

“Hey, darlin’.”

—

You cross one leg over the other and lean back in your chair, lips pressed tight together as you adjust your phone against your ear. The man across from you watches with a sympathetic grimace as he cuts his steak.

“Ballsy of you to call after all this time,” you say stonily.

A pause, then a low chuckle that makes you glad you’re wearing closed shoes—Nicholas can’t see the way that sound curls your toes.

“Well, better late than never, right?”

“No, I think never would have been better.”

Nicholas nods approvingly. You reach over and slide your hand into his, mind a million—or more accurately, a quarter dozen—miles away.

“If you have something to say, say it,” you continue. “Otherwise—”

“I can see you when I close my eyes.”

You can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice, but the next words come out sounding less sultry.

Less sultry, more ominous.

“Sometimes, like right now, I don’t even need to close ‘em.”

What?

Questions swirl in your brain. What the hell does he mean? He can see you? But you’re miles away, in some rich loser’s eat-in open-concept kitchen—

You swallow, set your jaw, and squeeze Nicholas’ hand. His eyes are blue, but they’re the wrong shade, the wrong shape.

Wrong everything.

“That’s very sweet,” you drawl. “But you can stop wasting your time. Go use those cheap lines on someone else.”

You hang up and groan, burying your face in your hands to disguise your racing pulse.

“Just block his number,” Nicholas says. He takes a sip of his wine.

“I will,” you lie. A few deep breaths help settle your nerves, but your mind is reeling. A sniff for good measure as you recreate some semblance of composure. “God, I can’t believe I let him get under my skin.” You rub your arms and shiver. “You think you know a person…”

“People can be awful,” Nicholas says. He sets down his fork and pats his knee. “C’mere, you.”

You glance at him from under your eyelashes as you set your napkin on the table and sidle around to drop on his knee. You loop your arms around his neck and press your cheek to his shoulder.

Nicholas settles his hands on your hips, his thumbs tracing circles low on your belly as he murmurs placating nonsense in your ear. You’re not listening. You’re busy unsticking a patch from the inside of your wide bangle.

“—and you know you can always trust me,” Nicholas says.

You cup his neck in your hands, the finger-sized patch latching seamlessly onto his skin and already starting to dissolve.

“I know,” you murmur.

You lean in slowly, but Nicholas blanches. He lurches to his feet, sending you sprawling to the floor.

“Nicholas?!”

“I—I’m sorry—I think I ate—”

He darts to the bathroom, and within seconds you can hear him retching.

Finally.

You climb to your feet and grab your phone, mind racing back to the Bucky problem now that Nicholas is out of the way.

What the hell did he mean, he can see you? How can he? Does he mean he’s watching a video feed? But there aren’t any here. You turn your phone in your fingers and bite your lip. Bucky’s working tonight, same as you—well, sort of. It would be silly to call him back before you’ve even thought his riddle through. Not to mention while Nicholas is still on his feet. You don’t know how much that patch will affect him.

How can Bucky be seeing you if he’s miles away? It’s impossible.

Unless…

Unless—

“Oh shit,” you mutter.

Someone is impersonating you at the party.

Someone.

Is impersonating you.

At the party.

Well that just takes the cake.

You slip your phone back into your purse and go knock on the bathroom door.

“Nicholas? Are you alright?”

A groan.

“I’m coming in,” you tell him. A beat, and then you push the door open with as concerned an expression as you can manage.

Nicholas is back on his feet, but he’s pale and shaky. Perfect.

“Oh, love!” you gasp. You rush over and steady him. “Let me help you.”

“You’re a godsend,” Nicholas says weakly. He leads the way to his bedroom—his apartment is sprawling; how the hell does he manage? Who needs this kind of space?—and lets you tuck him in.

“Shouldn’t have had that steak,” he says. “You did warn me it looked a little off…”

“Oh please,” you tell him. You press a kiss to his brow to conceal your scowl. Can’t he just go to sleep and stop talking? You’d only warned him about the steak in case of emergency. You hadn’t expected to need to pull off that trick… “Rest, dear. I'll come by tomorrow to check up on you, alright?”

“You’re an angel,” Nicholas mumbles. He smiles, finally letting go of your hand.

Angel?

You pull back as fast as you reasonably can, a little queasy yourself now. No one calls you an angel but Bucky. It’s wrong, sickening, to hear it from this dumb jerk.

It’s a disgrace. How dare he.

You’re out of Nicholas’ place before you even have time to consider your own mission. So much for his bank accounts, his trust funds, his shady offshore properties…

Well, screw that. It can wait. You’ll be back tomorrow.

—

Easy enough to catch a cab, easy enough to namedrop the most upscale venue in the city. Easy enough to hook into the video feeds you’d had Kasie hack into back when you didn’t think you’d be going.

You call Bucky as the driver peels away from the curb. He answers in a ring and a half.

“Didn’t know if you’d call,” he says.

“Is she wearing a black dress?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you—”

“Feeds are fuzzy. Can’t tell for sure if that’s her,” you say curtly.

“Don’t be like that,” he says.

You bristle as you fix a fresh patch to the inside of your bracelet. Just in case. “Like what?”

“Like you aren’t glad I called.”

You close your eyes, tip your head back. “I’m a little preoccupied,” you murmur. “Not every day I find out my cover’s blown.”

“We’ll figure it out, darlin’.”

Bucky’s voice wraps around you, almost as comforting as if he was holding you in his arms. You'd had to hide your delight before, at Nicholas’ place, but no one’s looking at you this time.

This time, you let yourself smile.

—

The first time you’d met Bucky, you’d swept from the street up marble steps not unlike these. Of course, back then the whole point had been to distract him.

You smooth down your skirt as you wait for Bucky to let you in. This time, you’re distracted even before you walk in the door. Bucky’s nowhere in view and you’re already a bundle of nerves. Of course, Bucky’s not the one making you nervous.

He really should be, you decide. You’ve never not gotten a swoop in your stomach from catching sight of him, whether through a rifle scope on a rooftop or from the bottom of a carpeted staircase. Or from a bed. And he’d looked so good in the feeds, blurriness aside… No man had ever looked better in a suit.

If nothing else, thinking about Bucky is doing wonders to distract you from the more pressing problem. Who has time to consider the implications of someone posing as your double when in just a few moments, you’ll be able to run your hand down his velvet lapel?

A sigh escapes your lips. You lean against a column by the door, gazing down at the street. Cars start and stop as they ease by, the occasional bike or scooter weaving between traffic. Black taxis reflect the last pink stripes in the sky, the white streetlamps, the red-yellow-green of the traffic lights. Pretty, but your focus is still caught up with the man coming to fetch you.

It’s been too long since you’ve seen him, touched him… You’ve been in the same city for a few days, but his team is too perceptive for him to have snuck away. Every meeting with him has been snatched, secret. Your hands curl, fingernails digging into your plans.

What you wouldn’t give to have the freedom to have him whenever you want.

The desperation, the need tugging at you makes you feel like an addict, but god if Bucky Barnes isn’t the best drug there is.

“There y’are.”

You flinch, pulse racing under your skin, as that smooth voice washes over you. A swallow, and you press your eyes closed just for a moment before looking at him.

It’s the same exact rush you’ve gotten every single time you’ve seen him. The swoop in your belly, the clench of your thighs, the way your mouth goes dry when his lips quirk into their customary smirk. And gosh, that suit looks even better in person. It’s black, with sharp lines that mirror the sharp line of his jaw, and a velvet lapel that you just know won’t be nearly as soft as his lips. All your frustration melts away.

Finally.

“Hi,” you breathe.

Bucky offers you his arm, his blue eyes dark as they drink you in. A new dress, a black dress, the perfect match. The style he likes, with a fitted bodice and draping skirt. You hook your arm through his elbow, trying to hide your relief at finally being with him. Not to mention the absolute thrill of having his strong, solid arm under your hand…

Bucky flashes his ticket—and a SHIELD badge—at the doorman, who lets you both in with an inquisitive frown. Did he see your doppelganger earlier? No matter.

“Nice of you to join the party,” Bucky teases.

You snort. “I’d thank you for the invite if I wasn’t so damn aggravated.”

Bucky drops a kiss against your hair as you study your surroundings. A gilded lobby, just shy of ostentatious, with a a row of polished wooden doors leading into the function hall. Two concierges at the long counter by the doors, glassy-eyed and bored until they notice you looking, at which point they turn on megawatt smiles. You bite your tongue as you smile back. Ah, nothing like customer service.

That’s at least fifty percent of your own job, really. All that simpering at Nicholas…

You shudder.

Bucky pauses mere feet from the door—you can already hear the lounge singer crooning away—and frowns down at you.

“Y’alright?”

“Sure, sure.” You adjust your hold on his arm, then step back. Time to get back in the game. You rub your temples. “Is there a plan? Or are you just winging it?”

Bucky scratches his cheek, brow pinched. “She seems to be focused on one guy in particular, but I don’t know if it’s about murdering him or what.”

“And you just left her in there?!” you gasp. He rolls his eyes.

“Calm down, darlin’, no need to blow a gasket. Got my backup to come in, keep him busy. But not so busy the other you suspects.”

You let out a stream of air between your teeth. Fine. That works.

“Anyway, if you’re done accusing me of not knowing how to do my job—” he shoots you a sardonic look bordering on a glare— “I figured we’d just corner her, get her out, get her talking.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

You brush past Bucky, eyes ahead, and push the doors open before he can stop you. Enough talking. Time to take this bitch—whoever she is—down.

—

Unlike the first—and only—time you’d been dressed to the nines together, you’re geared up. These are your killer shoes, with the blades hidden in the soles and a needle inside the right heel. There are two holsters hidden under your skirts, and false pockets granting easy access to your pearl-handled pistols. Your necklace hides a garrote, your bangle a drugged patch.

And you’ve got murder on your mind.

No one, not once in your entire career—or maybe even life—has ever pretended to be you. No catfishers, no copycats…

Well, not that you have a style that enables copycats. You’re an assassin, not a serial killer.

There’s a difference.

Right now, though, you feel the self-righteous pull of a worthy target more than ever. How dare she steal your face.

Barely anyone glances your way when you enter into the function hall. High ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, bubbling champagne passing by on a waiter’s tray. You snag a glass, but Bucky nabs it out of your grip before you can so much as take a sip. You scowl at him, but his eyes are twinkling as he drinks.

“Thanks,” he says. He offers the half-empty flute back to you, but you ignore it.

“Where?” you demand. “Where is she?”

Bucky tilts his head, and you turn to follow his gaze. There, at the bar, a woman in a black dress. Thicker straps than yours has, a fuller skirt… But it’s a close enough match.

A chill runs up your spine. Is that what you look like, in the flesh, from the outside? Are those your shoulders, your ears? Is that the curve of your cheek?

How?

You turn back to Bucky, heart pounding, a million questions on your lips. He touches your elbow and leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“She’s nothing to you.”

A shiver runs through you at the low timber of his voice. You pull back and meet his eyes. They’re burning, bright with determination and dark with—you can’t tell. Murder? Desire? Both?

He nods once, squeezes your hand, and melts into the crowd. You press your hand to your pounding heart. A few people glance at you, but you deftly avoid their gazes. A waiter passes with a tray of hors d’oeuvres; you take a tartlet, bat your eyelashes at the waiter, and trail after Bucky, caviar bursting in your mouth.

You don’t have any problems spotting him. He’s leaning against the bar now, chatting you—her up. Her shoulders are tense; you can see her back, and you have a suspicion she’s not quite able to meet his eyes.

Bucky calls the bartender over and orders her a drink; you can just make out the coaxing smile in his voice as he asks, “What’s your poison, doll?”

“Is booze poison to you?” your double asks. She shakes her head. God, even her voice sounds like yours. Eugh. “A martini, please.”

You slip between two men and slide onto the barstool right next to her. She’s still facing Bucky, and she doesn’t turn her head quite far enough to realize she’s been cornered.

“You know,” you drawl, calm as day, “what I really prefer is champagne.”

The woman freezes. Bucky slides his half-full flute of champagne past her to you, and you take a long, slow sip, gaze fixed on Bucky. His face is serious, but there’s a thrill behind his eyes.

Your double shifts back on her stool, twisting to face Bucky even more, sliding out of her seat. You stand up too, your breasts nearly pressed against her back. From here, you can see the differences. Her skin tone is a little darker, shoulders a little broader… The hair at the nape of her neck isn’t quite the right shape either.

You fiddle with your bangle as you wait for something, anything to happen. Should you play your cards and drug her? Chase her to the bathroom, corner her there? Or let Bucky lead her away, keeping her head unmuddled for easy interrogation?

It’s a choice you don’t get to make.

The woman spins, and the sight of your own face snarling has you reeling, breath catching and eyes going wide. It’s you, but it’s wrong, backwards, wrong wrong wrong—

A harsh shove sends you careening back, and then she darts off. You knock a stocky woman halfway over, barely managing to catch yourself on some man’s sleeve, but your eyes are latched onto her.

Did she really think she could run away from the Winter Soldier?

Your double only makes it a few quick steps before Bucky’s hand clamps onto her shoulder, spinning her back to face him, his SHIELD badge tucked in his fingers, a thin, dark-haired woman rushing forward to assist.

The man whose sleeve you're holding helps right you, and you shoot a sorry to the woman you’d nearly knocked over. She’s too busy gaping between you and your doppelgänger, her eyes round as dinner plates.

Now that your double’s being led away, your fury dissipates. She failed, she’s got her head slumped, and she doesn’t look anywhere near as good as you. A giggle escapes your lips, and the stocky woman stares.

“Evil twins, am I right?” you say.

The woman blinks, too shocked to answer, and then you dart after Bucky and the others, a bounce in your step and every single wrong thing turned right.

You weave between hobnobs as they slowly sink back into their sedate ignorance. How strange. How could anyone go back to their dull party when there’s something like this going on?

Bucky opens a door, and his associate drags your double through. You step ahead to follow, but he catches your eye and shakes his head just before he vanishes.

You freeze. Right. Of course. You can’t just run after him. He’s working. Your relationship, if you can call it that, is a secret. He’s an Avenger. And you’re just…

You’re…

Someone puts a hand on your back. You stiffen.

“Jeez, Mal, what the hell happened while I was in the bathroom?” a low voice mutters.

What the hell…?

You turn and take in the bland face of the middle-aged white man frowning around. Your heart skips a beat, and you let out a slow breath between your teeth. You know that face.

“Some woman got dragged off by the feds,” you whisper, linking your arm in his and angling him away from the bulk of the crowd.

His eyes widen as he looks around, more scared than confused this time. “Are you kidding?”

“No,” you say curtly. “Come on.”

Your grip is solid on his arm, but he puts up no resistance as you lead the way to a door, not the one Bucky dragged your double out of. Mal? Is that her name? Is it short for something? Mallory, Malia?

No. Malinda.

The name rings a bell, but for the life of you, you can’t place it quite yet. You push your guesswork aside as you lead the man—his name is Christian Havemeyer, old money, shady enough to get him onto your radar—down one carpeted hallway and then another to an out-of-the-way powder room.

Your radar.

Oh, of course. Havemeyer was connected to Rex Carston, your target back when you’d first met Bucky. And Carston’s date that fateful night had been Malinda.

Is the woman who’s stolen your face the pretty woman who’d been on Rex Carston’s arm the night he died?

Well, Bucky will find out. Right now, you’ve got your own job to do.

Havemeyer is pacing, hand clutching his dyed hair—there’s no way a man with so many wrinkles on his neck has hair that black—as you lock and lean against the door. You slide your hands into your pockets, watching Havemeyer carefully. He doesn’t seem armed. Better than that, he doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious.

Well, that’s about to change.

“Got any ideas?” you ask. He whirls on you, face red.

“What the hell do you think? You said this event was clear!”

“Well, clearly I missed something,” you say evenly. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still follow through.”

“Follow th—follow through?” Havemeyer gapes, then narrows his eyes. He looks you up and down, realization dawning in his face. He steps back, glances around. “Wait. You—”

“Hmm?” you drawl. You push away the lacy strap holding one of your pistols in place and curl your fingers around the grip. No point turning off the safety; you could take this guy barehanded.

Well, probably. It better not come to that.

Havemeyer’s face shifts from fear and confusion to stern determination. He steps towards you, puffing up his chest and balling his hands into fists.

“Where is she?” he hisses.

You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself. Well, to be fair, he doesn’t know you’re armed to the teeth.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

“You’re not Malinda,” he snaps. He takes another step.

A little too close for comfort.

You draw your pistol and press the barrel against his gut faster than he can blink. “Down, boy,” you say coolly. “You should know better.”

Havemeyer slowly puts his hands in the air. You push your gun against him, and he steps back one, two, three times before you’re satisfied. You click off the safety, just for added measure.

“Now,” you say, “let’s talk.”

He swallows. “Maybe you can put down the gun first.”

You tap your chin. Consider.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Behind you, the doorknob rattles.

Well, fuck.

You keep your eyes on Havemeyer as you turn your head towards the door, trying to listen over his ragged breathing and your own. Not that your breathing is ragged.

“Mr. Havemeyer?”

A deep male voice, one you don’t recognize. Havemeyer’s face lights up as your stomach drops.

“Help!” he calls.

“Bad call,” you snarl.

A vicious crack—they’re shooting the door open. You shoot Havemeyer in the kneecap, his howl music to your ears. He collapses like a wet rag. You kick him low in the gut, further immobilizing him, and swing the chair at the counter around to wedge it under the doorknob.

You drop into a crouch and whip out the knife from your left shoe. Havemeyer is curled around his knee, whimpering.

Suits him, the bastard.

You dig your fingers into his jaw, the knife scraping against his clean-shaven cheek, and dig the barrel of your pistol into his wound. He sobs, scrambling, but you don’t give in.

“Talk.”

You’ve got a minute, maybe, before his goon opens the door. But it’s enough.

Havemeyer doesn’t just talk.

He sings.

—

A swift kick to the head knocks him out. Kind of you not to kick him in the knee; the pain would’ve done the trick, but meh. You’re not really here for him. It’s just a nice little bonus, learning things.

Anyway, better not to get blood on your shoes.

You wipe the barrel of your gun, bloody from being jabbed against Havemeyer’s knee, on his suit jacket. It’s been seventy-five seconds since you told him to talk. You really are good at your job.

Of course, you still have to deal with whatever’s waiting behind the door. It’s been quiet. Have they gone for help?

The powder room had no other exits, not even a window. Well, whatever’s waiting outside can’t be worse than things you’ve faced in the past.

Hell, you’re the woman who faced down the Winter Soldier and came out on top—well, not literally on top, but…

Eh, maybe later. Hopefully later.

You press an ear to the door, listening, not daring to breathe. It’s silent in the hall.

Worth the risk. You’re a professional, after all. If some rich man’s security is good enough to get you, you probably deserve to get caught.

You step back and whisk the chair out of the way.

The second you do, the door bursts open.

Oh, bother.

Tall, broad, bulky—you’re nearly pinned by his long arms, but you manage to duck aside. Still, he knocks your pistol out of your hands. You tighten your grip on your knife as you whirl to retaliate, but he jumps back. Your knife grazes his open jacket, cutting a neat slice in the thick material. You don’t have time to admire the clean cut because he’s lunging again.

And he’s got a knife too.

Oh, bother.

You kick the chair in his way, scrambling at the inside of your bangle. He throws the chair at you. It hits; you stumble back, but there’s just enough time as he tosses the chair aside. You hurl yourself at him, latching the patch from your bangle onto his neck with one hand while you drive your knife into his thigh with the other.

He grunts—more pain tolerance than his boss, apparently—and aims his knife at you. But with the patch administered, you’ve got a hand free.

He’s got no chance at all.

Well, let’s be fair. He never had a chance.

A knee to the groin, an expert twist of your hand, and his wrist cracks. This time, he does howl. He stumbles back, away from your knife, back through the open door into the hall. You stalk after him, a feral grin on your face as he slumps against the wall.

“That’ll teach you to pick on girls,” you tell him.

“Who are you?” he whimpers.

“None of your goddamn business.”

Your knife is still bloody. You hike up your dress and carefully wipe the blade clean on the inside of your skirt, still watching the bodyguard carefully.

A low whistle echoes down the hall.

You pause, a smile edging onto your face as you tilt your head. You don’t take your eyes away from the bodyguard, but your whole body lights up. You can sense Bucky from meters away.

“See something you like?” you call.

The bodyguard blanches.

You don’t blame him, really. It takes a really dumb criminal to be delighted to see the Winter Soldier.

What does that make you?

A lovestruck idiot, probably.

Bucky saunters down the hall, smirking. A pair of handcuffs dangle from his right hand; his left hand is tucked neatly in his pocket. “I might.”

Havemeyer’s bodyguard shifts a few inches down the wall as he holds out his trembling hands, one at an unnatural angle. Bucky spins him to face the wall and cuffs his hands behind his back. You slide your knife back into its slot in your shoe as Bucky shuts the bodyguard into the powder room.

“This yours?” Bucky asks.

You turn, still smiling, and reach for your pistol. But Bucky holds it out of your reach, the pearl handle clinking against his metal hand. You stick your hands on your hips and raise your eyebrows.

“That’s mine,” you tell him.

“No time for that now.” He loops his arm through yours and drags you down the hall. “Hill’s on her way over.”

Hill? Is that his associate?

Her?

You press your lips together as you run alongside him. Envy coils unpleasant and heavy in your chest.

Her?

You’re not jealous. You know Bucky well enough now to know he’s got no eyes for anyone else.

But… someone he can work with? Someone he can be in public with? Someone he can see without subterfuge, without shame…

You don’t have regrets about your career. None whatsoever. You’re talented, you’re passionate about it… Some people think murder is wrong, but the world is far better off without certain people in it.

But Bucky—he’s from another world.

A world where you’re not welcome. Not you, not your team, not your delight in a perfectly executed kill. He can ravish you all he wants—all you want, if you’re being honest—but at the end of the day, you’re just a dirty little secret.

It’s never bothered you before. Right now, though?

You hate it.

Bucky drags you down a back staircase, gripping your hand tight. You burst outside into a back alley, the fresh air cool against your clammy skin. A high fence shuts out the rest of the world, but when you look up, you can see the hazy sky, stars barely visible past the light of the city.

“That went well,” Bucky says cheerfully.

“Mm,” you answer, feigning cheer. “Can I have my gun back?”

“Oh this?” He dangles the pistol in front of your face, smirking. You stare stonily, not taking his bait.

Bucky’s smirk drops as you stand there. He passes the gun to you; you check the safety and slide it back into its holster, refastening the snap with a muffled click.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice low.

“I—” You draw your lower lip between your teeth and start to pace. A glance at Bucky; he’s confused, worried, his playfulness fading fast.

But the right words don’t come out.

“What did Malinda say?”

His face screws up, adorably confused. Even as you’re metaphorically kicking yourself in the foot, you’re half breathless by how much you love to look at him.

“Huh?”

“Malinda,” you say again. “The woman impersonating me.”

“Ohhh.” Bucky nods, his face smoothing. “She didn’t give her name, though I assume Hill is on it. Without her mask, it shouldn’t be hard.”

Your eyes bug out. “Didn’t you recognize her?!”

He frowns. Tips his head back. Then his head falls forward, chin nearly brushing his chest.

“Well, shit,” he says. “She was there when we met, wasn’t she?”

Oh my god.

“More than that,” you snap. “She knows who I am! She was Rex Carston’s dinner date the night we—”

You clap your hands to your mouth, but Bucky’s caught on. He steps closer; you step back, until your back is against the wall. He’s boxing you in, face stern.

“What’s this really about?” he says, voice low.

You lower your hands. They’re trembling. “She knows me, Bucky. She has to know me. How else…”

What else is there to say? If she’s in SHIELD custody, and she knows you, she’ll talk. She’ll talk, and you’ll be on their radar.

And then Bucky really will be in bed with the enemy.

“I hate being your dirty little secret,” you mumble, eyes fixed on his lapel. “I don’t want to have to be your enemy too.”

“No,” Bucky says firmly. He grips your face and tilts it up towards his. “You’ll never be that.”

“I'm basically that already!” You knock his hands away, shove him back. “Bucky, I’m tired of sneaking around! It was fun, but I’m tired of it! You don’t care, but I’ll never be good enough for your moralistic friends, and I’m tired of it.”

He blinks.

“But they like what you do,” he says. “I mean, the ones that matter.”

Thank god you’re leaning against the wall, because you’re pretty sure you just fainted.

“Excuse me?”

“They don’t know about us,” Bucky says slowly, “and they don’t know what all of you look like—at least they didn’t—but your team is on SHIELD’s list of outfits not to bother. An unofficial list, but it still counts.”

You’re a fish. A gaping fish. Bucky scratches the back of his head.

“Assuming you don’t take a sharp left turn in the evil direction, I mean,” he adds.

He peers up at you from under his eyelashes, hands stuffed in his pockets. Even with the sharp-as-knives suit and cheekbones, he looks more adorable than ever.

With Bucky clearly nervous, you find your voice.

“So all this time,” you say slowly, “there hasn’t been a reason to be all—” you gesture vaguely— “secretive?”

Bucky’s lips quirk up. “Well, I mean, there’s fun in intrigue. At least…” His tiny smile fades. “I think so.”

“Well shit, I think so too!” You snort. One step away from the wall, towards him. “I’m not in my line of work because I don’t like intrigue. But my god, Bucky, I could have been your date all night! You’re telling me I’ve been missing out on you for no good reason?”

“I figured you had good reason,” he retorts. He steps towards you now, his hands light on your waist. You melt into his touch, warmth spreading from his hands so close to your skin. His face softens. “I never wanted you to think… Shit, angel, I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s okay.” You brush a hand across his face, thumb tracing his sharp cheekbone with a new kind of reverence. He’s close, his darkening eyes fixed on your face, your barely parted lips.

The world is wide open now, isn’t it?

You lean in, his breath on your lips before he stops you. His eyes dart over your heads, by the door—a surveillance camera, red light holding steady.

The very thing you’ve avoided.

The very thing you’re done with.

“Fuck that,” you murmur.

You grab his chin and kiss him, rough and hard and without mercy. He gasps into your mouth, and you bite his lower lip before drawing back. No blood, but his lip’s already swollen, dark pink and even more plump than usual. He’s the one gaping now. You drag your thumb across his mouth, admiring it.

“Fuck that,” you repeat. “Let them see.”

He stares. “Seriously?”

“Am I a liar, Mr. Barnes?”

“Not in the usual way,” he says, lips twitching.

“I’m serious. Now kiss me before I change my mind.”

Bucky crushes his lips to yours. You knew it was coming, but his intensity still tears a cry from your throat as he slams you back against the concrete wall. His hands knead your hips; his teeth nip at your lip just as you’d done to his.

Well, fair’s fair.

Heat thrums though you. You thread your hands in his hair and tug hard enough to break the kiss. His head falls back and you waste no time in leaving a mark against his neck, frantically unbuttoning his jacket, his shirt. He hisses into the open air as your teeth press just deep enough against his throat to hurt. Your lips follow your hands, kissing across that sculpted chest, fingers stealing touches of his skin as his hands skate up your sides.

When you reach the last button on his shirt, you snake your hand straight down his pants and take his hardening cock in hand. His hands squeeze painfully tight on your waist, but you revel in it.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You draw back, lick your lips. Smirk coyly at him from under your eyelashes as you stroke him lightly, one hand still tracing his chest.

“Something the matter?”

Bucky shakes his head and leans one arm against the wall. He’s panting, but he manages a grin all the same. “You and your mouth.”

“Oh, you want my mouth?”

You fall to your knees, cement biting into your knees through your dress, but you don’t care. You tug his zipper down with your teeth and pull his cock free. A fresh wave of want surges through you.

Damn if he doesn’t look like the best snack in the world.

One hand around his base, the other cupping his balls, you draw him into your mouth with a hungry moan. Hot, heavy, perfect; god, there’s that delicious stretch you’d been missing, the taste of him, of Bucky, heady on your tongue.

It’s like your first time together. You on your knees, his hand in your hair, him singing your praises, your mouth around him and your hand cupping your own sex, touching yourself through your dress, desperate for release but too busy tasting him to beg him for more.

It’s like then, but it’s not. Because right now, you’re not lying to him. You’re not fooling him, distracting him. No ulterior motive beyond letting the whole world know how much you want him.

How much he wants you.

No more hiding, no more sneaking, no more looking over your shoulder—it’s all you and him, him and you, the two of you together—

Bucky’s hips are rocking now, seeking you out. Lipstick stains his cock dark in the shadows, but you can’t take your eyes from his face. That beautiful face, a flush across his cheeks and a pinch between his brows. Those beautiful eyes, so dark and full of that thing that neither of you have to hide anymore. His panting echoes in the alley, sweet sounds falling like the first spring rain. Beautiful, vital relief. Your skin prickles, pressure building as you struggle to breathe.

You squeeze the base of his cock as you relax your throat, drawing more of him into your mouth. You hum around him, the vibrations pulling a fresh stream of whimpers from his pretty mouth that makes a fresh rush of want pool between your legs. God, it’s filthy how he’s moaning your name, leaking in your mouth…

“Fuck, yes, f—fuck!” he rasps.

A swirl of your tongue around his head, suction so strong it makes your cheeks hurt, and the lightest squeeze of his balls. Then your hand dances back, teasing his rim, and Bucky shouts his release, spilling down your throat as you swallow hungrily.

You pull back and lick your lips clean, smirking up at him as you lightly graze your clothed breasts. Just a pause, to let him come back to himself. And to bask in his afterglow. Looking at him like he is now, flushed down to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut in bliss, is like looking at God.

It’s not long before Bucky’s eyes open. He tugs you up. His breathing is heavy, but he catches it enough to kiss you long and tender, one hand still buried in your hair. You moan into his mouth, breasts tight against his chest. Can he taste himself on your lips?

You break the kiss with a gasp as Bucky pushes you against the wall. He smirks and starts bunching your dress up around your waist, his body still pressed against yours. The air is cool on your legs, all the more so when your thighs are bared.

Bucky leans his forehead against yours, both of you panting as he grips your thigh, toying with the lace of your holster. He shifts his wrist, his eyes blacker than the hazy sky. His touch between your legs buckles your knees; you’re held up by his chest on yours and his other hand on your waist. His hand slips under your panties.

The merest brush of your clit and the world shudders, all your focus zooming in on that tender touch. You’ve been on the precipice for what feels like hours, and his touch, Bucky’s touch…

It’s everything.

You clutch his arms, chin trembling as you try to hold on. His fingers dip between your folds, circle wet and slick against your clit.

“Let go,” he murmurs. He nuzzles your neck, teeth scraping against your collarbone as he works his magic. His left hand holds you steady against the wall, the concrete scraping your shoulders. “Let go for me.”

He curls one hot finger inside you, and it’s enough to tip you over the edge. A cry tears from your throat as you quake in his hold, sparks shooting through you. He coaxes you through, sweet sounds—full words, perhaps, but you’re too overwhelmed to make them out—falling from his lips as he slows his ministrations.

You ease down from your high as Bucky takes his hand away. He’s gentle, his eyes dark but so damn sweet. They’re the first thing you see when you resurface.

He sucks his fingers clean, smiling all the while, as you steady your breathing. He smooths your skirt back over your legs, zips his fly, buttons his shirt. Your face screws up.

“What, is that all?” you manage.

Bucky’s laugh echoes loud and clear in the alley. He slings his arm around you, squeezing your bum fondly as he leads you away. “Not a chance.”

—

The city twinkles outside of the wide windows of your hotel room. Warm lighting, a queen-size bed that might be a bit snug for Bucky—well, it’s upscale, not platinum; you have a budget, after all—and his suit jacket already hung in the closet. Bucky’s standing in his shirt by the window, on the phone with Hill. Maria Hill, Nick Fury’s right-hand man.

“I ran into an old associate,” he tells her for the third time. His voice is steady, though you can see in the reflection his lips pursing. He’s being just vague enough to keep her suspicious. He’s quiet for a moment as you fill a cup in the bathroom sink.

You wander back into the bedroom, nerves humming. The whole cab ride over, Bucky’s hands had been all over you, light and teasing and just enough to keep you right on edge. And the elevator ride up to the seventh floor had him rutting against you like a dog in heat.

Now he’s putting your patience to the test with his drawn-out call when all you want to do is scream his name. You clench your thighs as you swallow, waiting for him to finish. But he’s still got the phone to his ear.

This won’t do.

You finish your water and lick your lips dry, the taste of your lipstick heavy on your tongue. Is his cock still stained with it? You’re dying to find out. The cup clinks against the dresser, abandoned. Bucky’s eyes meet yours in the window reflection as you wander over to him and lean against his back, circling your arms around his waist to start unbuttoning his shirt for the second time tonight. His lips twitch.

“Hill, listen, I gotta—”

“Not until you explain yourself, Barnes.”

You sink your teeth into his shoulder as you slide your hand inside his pants. He jerks, nearly dropping his phone.

“Fu—Hill, it’s fine, just—”

You palm his cock through his boxer briefs.

“Fuck!” he gasps. He slams his fist against the window, but there’s no swallowing back what’s just come out of his mouth.

Hill’s silent for a moment. Then she laughs. “Oh, I get it. Have fun, James. Don’t forget your paperwork!”

Click.

Bucky twists in your arms with a growl. His phone thumps against the floor as he forces his mouth on yours, bruising. He grips your upper arms and pushes you back until your knees hit the bed. A shove, and you’re falling, lips parted from his onslaught as you bounce on the mattress.

“You little devil.”

The low tenor of his voice sends a shiver through you. Bucky crawls over you, his open shirt brushing your arms as you push it down his shoulders.

“Thought I was your angel,” you murmur.

Bucky sits on his haunches and shrugs off his shirt. You lick your lips as you feast on him with your eyes alone, your fingers light on your breasts. Bucky’s eyes fix on your hands. He sucks in a breath as you squirm, nipples hardening under your dress.

“Whatever you are, you’re divine.”

Bucky stands for just long enough to push his pants and briefs off, barely giving you a chance to see how hard he is. But you see well enough: cock jutting out, thick and heavy. And yes, still painted with traces of your lipstick.

He pushes you further up the bed until your head’s on the pillow, then settles back between your legs. His hands knead your thighs, spread them apart. It’s his turn to lick his lips.

“And I’m going to worship the hell outta you tonight.”

Bucky glides his hands down your skirt. You twist your hands in the blankets, breathing shallow as you watch him. He lifts your leg and presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle, fingers dancing along your shoe.

“Killer shoes, huh?”

You laugh breathlessly, but you can’t answer because he’s kissing his way up the inside of your leg, his hands sliding up your skirt so smoothly that you’re a mess before he’s even reached your thigh holster. Fuck grabbing the blankets; you bury your hands in his hair and pull.

You half expect him to resist, but no, he lets you pull him between your legs, pushing your dress up over your waist. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the crotch of your panties, his tongue flicking against your clit. You cry out; your hips buck against his face, but he only chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. He peels your panties away, shifting so he can toss them away with the rest of his clothes. You reach for the satin bows on your holsters, but he grabs your hands.

“Safety’s on, leave ‘em,” he says, eyes glinting.

Your eyebrows fly up. “Really?”

He shrugs and tucks his hair behind his ear. “What can I say, watching you at work earlier was a turn-on.” You giggle and run your foot against his side.

“Let me guess, you want me to keep my shoes on too.”

“If it’s comfy.” He winks. “Think you’ll accidentally kill me if I drive you too crazy?”

You nudge at him with the toe of your shoe until he falls back onto you, his cock nestled between you. You twine your arms around his neck and kiss him til you’re out of breath.

“Kill you? Never.” You bump his nose with yours. “Now eat me out, or I might start charging you for my time.”

Bucky laughs out loud. Music to your ears. Then he dives back between your legs, pulling your thighs over his shoulders and settling on his elbows. One last wicked look, and then he latches his mouth to your clit, sucking and flicking and oh god you’re ruined, you’re wrecked. He’s pulling your soul out with his lips. Your hips buck up again, but he stills you with a single warm hand. Sounds fill the room, sounds you barely register as your own moaning.

He’s insatiable. His tongue dipping inside you, fucking you, his metal thumb circling smooth as silk against your clit. His other arm holding you in place so he can devour you, all your whimpers and cries and moans be damned. Your legs are shaking, thighs squeezing his head so tight you’re sure he’s suffocating, but no, he’s just lapping you up, humming, every vibration building you into a tighter frenzy. Sweat beads on your brow, on your chest—you grab hold of his hair, your breasts, the blankets, anything to ground you, but it’s impossible because he’s there, right there, his hips thrusting against the bed as yours strain towards his mouth.

More, more, more; it’s a chant in your mind, on your lips, back arching off the bed as his soaked metal fingers vibrate—

The throes of your orgasm are enough to wake the dead. Bucky lifts his head to watch you come undone, his hand still working on your clit. He lifts his arm from your hips, but by now you’re no more than a pile of mush on the bed, your silky dress sweaty and tight on your body, too much against your sensitive breasts. You twist bonelessly and reach for the zipper.

“Let me,” Bucky murmurs. He slides the zipper down slowly, careful not to let it catch on your skin. Peels the dress down until your arms are free, your breasts free in the open air. A few gentle tugs, and it’s gone, and you’re bare beside him.

Bucky doesn’t touch you, not yet. He hovers next to you, his hands reaching and falling back every second until you look at him and smile.

“C’mere, you,” you mumble. He settles in your open arms, propped on his elbow, his torso stretched across your chest. You brush back his hair and let your eyes drift across his body. Your gaze lands predictably on his cock, still red and hard and lipstick-stained, a bead of precum just at the tip. You take him in hand tenderly, reveling in his quiet hiss. “Poor Bucky. So much time worshipping me he hasn’t had a moment for himself.”

“I mean, you did—fuck, darlin’, just like that—you did suck me off earlier,” he says breathlessly.

You keep stroking him, your hands gentle, rubbing the lipstick stains into new shapes on his skin. Bucky’s tense, every muscle from his neck to his abs to his thick thighs in stark definition as you work along his length.

Bucky tugs your hand away all too soon. He settles between your legs; they’re spread wantonly, heels and lacy holsters an added bonus. His cock is scorching between your legs, sliding slick between your damp folds as he teases you.

“Fun as that is,” he rasps, “I just wanna be inside you already.”

A thrill shoots through you. Bucky rocks his hips gently, teasing, not fast or hard enough to provide relief. You tilt your hips, moaning, anything to spur him on. This dragging out the inevitable is torture.

“Fuck, what are you waiting for?” you gasp.

No warning, no caution—Bucky slams his cock home. Your body arches off the bed as you cry out, tears springing to your squeezed-shut eyes as he sinks deep, so deep it’s just shy of painful. But god, there’s no pleasure in the world better than this. His thick cock in you, his pelvis putting pressure on your clit, stars once again bursting behind your eyes.

Bucky doesn’t give you any time to adjust. His thrusts are fast, long, deep. Your feet scramble for purchase, heels catching on the blanket. A harsh rip as the comforter shreds, but it barely registers.

He notices. He growls, pulling your leg up, still pistoning in and out, pounding you into the bed. With your knee against his chest, he’s hitting all kinds of spots inside you, the ones you’d barely known of before him. Your walls flutter around him, a wail tumbling from your lips—

“Oh god, fuck, Bucky!”

Bucky litters your chest with kisses, alternating between tweaking your nipples and teasing your hypersensitive clit until tears run down your face and all you can do is beg.

“It’s ‘kay, darlin’,” he pants. His pace slows, the long drag of his head tugging at you, pulling fresh sobs from your throat. “Fuck. Look. Look how pretty y’are,” he urges.

You force your eyes open and stare between you. His cock, red and shining from your arousal and his, sliding in and out, your cunt stretched tight around him. You clench the muscles there as he sinks in once more, his prolonged groan enough to make you laugh triumphantly until he rolls you over, his hands strong on your waist as he sits you up, the movement shifting his cock inside you. You hiss and steady yourself with a hand on his chest.

“You seriously expect me to hold myself up? I’ve had two orgasms tonight and you’ve had none,” you tease.

Bucky’s eyes glitter. He rocks his hips up. You can’t move.

“You’re the one who was desperate for more,” he quips. “Prove it.”

“Ugh, fine.”

But you smile as you plant your hands more solidly on his chest, one finger just close enough to trace the scars at his left shoulder. You circle your hips, moving slow and small until he’s clenching his jaw. But he doesn’t beg for more. He just watches you, his hands still on your waist and his eyes black with lust.

The little movements prove your undoing before his, every roll of your hips providing fresh pressure on your clit. You mewl with pleasure as you start to bounce more solidly on his cock, chasing the building pleasure. Every slam has you both gasping. Your nails scrape against his skin, digging in, leaving marks. His hands shift to your breasts, just holding them, rubbing his palms back and forth across your painfully hard nipples. Every shift of his hands, every drop of your hips, every thrust of his send a shower of sparks through you until your whole body is fireworks, starbursts behind your eyes, fire in your blood—

One hard thrust of his hips when you’re not expecting it, one intense burst, and you seize up, shudders racking through you as he holds you up by your chest, walls milking him, eyes unseeing, all of you focused on the pleasure between your legs and the twitching of his cock inside you until he too explodes. He spills inside you, your name falling from his lips, offered up to you like a never-ending prayer as you fall forward to kiss him because you have to, you must.

“Bucky,” you murmur into his mouth. “Bucky.”

Every inch of skin is hot, damp with sweat, but you couldn’t move if the world was on fire. He’s wrapped around you, in more ways than one, and you never want to let him go.

And for the first time, he doesn’t have to go. Whatever his people think of him, they’re leaving him alone. Let the Winter Soldier blow off some steam, they must be thinking, and he’ll be our perfect operative when he gets home.

You smile into the crook of his neck as he strokes your back, your neck, your hair. He is perfect, isn’t he.

It’s a while before either of you have the strength to move. Bucky rolls you off him.

“Stay,” he murmurs. He drops a kiss on your forehead, and you watch his bum as he heads to the bathroom. Your eyes slide shut as you listen to him run the tap, splash water on his face. You don’t hear him come back, but you blink your eyes open again when he settles next to you. He cleans you up with a damp washcloth, tugging your shoes and holsters off as he works.

“There,” he says. He tosses it all off the bed—well, he puts the holstered guns gently on the nightstand—and lies down, pulling you into his arms. You wiggle your toes, stretching out your feet as you snuggle into his side.

Bucky’s quiet, oddly so. Usually he at least says how much he enjoyed himself. He’s never been shy with his words before.

Nerves gnaw at your stomach. What’s the matter with him? You’re not sure how to break the silence, so you let it settle, and wait.

It takes time, but eventually Bucky sighs and kisses your hair.

“It’s real fuckin’ nice that I can stay,” he says quietly.

You nod.

“And…” He swallows. “Were you serious earlier?”

You look up at him with a frown. “About what? I say a lot of stuff, y’know.” He chuckles, but sobers quickly.

“Were you serious about wanting to… be my date?”

The words tumble out of his mouth.

You sit up, heart pounding, and lean over him. His face is cupped in your hands, your eyes are fixed on his, and the whole world is in his hopeful smile. You kiss him, chaste and heartfelt as a ingenue.

“Am I a liar, Mr. Barnes?”

“Not in the usual way,” he answers.

“There we go,” you murmur. You push the damp hair off his forehead. He’s gazing up at you with something past liking, past wonder, past fondness in his eyes. It’s mirrored in yours, whether you acknowledge it or not. Either way, here you are, with him, with everywhere to go. “There we go.”

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