#by the time she came to see me and told me this story she’d showered three times and scrubbed her arms and most of it was still on there

[fingertipsmp3]

Just remembered another fucked up paint story (will put in tags because idk I like talking in tags more than actually in the post)

[bucknastysbabe]

Hi I got an ask about subby Criston and I’m here to fill it but I accidentally deleted the ask itself. So I hope you see this😭😭I kinda went cuckoo bonkers word to Wyn but anyways! Pookie bear cries and nuts like 40 times🧸🧸

Knock ‘em out - C.Cole

Rating: Explicit

WC: 3k

Tags: Boxer!Criston, Manager!Reader, Criss priss prob needed to be in an institution but now gets paid for beating ass, a little bit of manipulation from reader, marathon sex, overstimulation, sub space, soft domme, 🚨CRISTON BIG ASS PRAISE KINK🚨, he’s puppy your honor, Dom/sub, sub drop, aftercare, pnv!sex, multiple orgasms, intercrural sex, cumming in pants, lil bit of background story but mainly P O R N

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk @arcielee @sugarpoppss2 @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @moncherrii @bambitas @targaryenbarbie @fairysluna @thought--bubble @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @gemini-mama @valeskafics

Thanks @tumblin-theworldaway for helping my mind crank up heheheheeh

Criston knew he was off— something never wired right in his brain. Most people would interview him and see the rags-to-riches story. He came from trash, really, his dad was the janitor at the big boxing gym in the city. Coach Dondarrion told people they let Criston train for free as his father worked so tirelessly.

In reality, he couldn’t stop getting into fights at school. It was unchecked anger growing out of control. Criston’s mother and father begged Dondarrion to take him on and help channel that aggression. It likely saved his life. He was only 10 and beating kids’ faces in over slights— imagined or real. He was horribly possessive, jealous, and lost. Boxing seemed to put a lid on that.

Occasionally he’d have to be ripped off an opponent. Whispers of Criston Cole being a psycho were rampant. He was twenty-three when he got his current manager. She worked miracles. His everything— Criston loved the woman so much that sometimes it hurt his head, thoughts too intense to siphon through.

He’d known her from the Blackhaven gym, she was a daughter of Coach Swann and knew the realm of boxing pretty well. Coach Dondarrion brought her into the picture when Criston almost killed a man in the ring.

She didn’t bat an eye when Criston snarled and tried to intimidate her— only cocking her head and snorting like he was an unruly animal. He’ll never forget the words she said after. It was a shift for the boxer.

“Do that again and you won’t fight this week. I’m in charge now. You’re my prize pet. If you want to keep being a prize pet then you’ll listen to me,” she stated, manicured nail poking his chest.

The bigger man still had no clue what came over him, but her words were like a balm. This was what Criston needed— firm orders and guidance. He hoped at the time she could help him with all the mess in his head. Criston nodded and replied, “Yes ma’am.”

“Good boy. Let’s come up with some rules. You like rules don’t you?”

No unnecessary jabs, no yelling, work on riding the bike and going through footwork, and no cumming until he had won.

Those were the rules before a fight. Criston abided by them religiously. Even if he was like a caged animal towards the lead-up to the big event. He would feel himself grow more and more agitated— actively restraining from ripping his opponent's jaw off. Cole probably looked psycho, with dark eyes intense, jaw clenching. But his expression remained eerily placid. His manager liked that and said she could smell the fear off the other guy.

Criston remained undefeated, she must be right he thought. Coach Dondarrion said Swann was a goddamn genius. She was perfect like that. He hated she wouldn’t go public with their relationship, Criston would wind himself up into an obsessive tizzy over it.

But when he won again, and again, she was there to take care of him. They’d get through the usual press, Criston would shower, and they’d ride back to the hotel together. The air was charged in the back seat. She’d slapped his wandering hands away the first couple of times.

Now he knew to stay put and she’d tend to his face or scratch his hair, careful of any knots and bruising. It felt so fucking good the first time she touched him, he had cum in his sweats before even reaching the hotel. Whining and writhing as she cooed and put ice on his black eye or taped a busted nose— he couldn’t remember exactly.

His manager had cooed in surprise when he seized up and gasped, wetting the inside of his briefs, “Oh, baby? You came? Needed that, didn’t you? Criston Cole, my prized pet, big bad man, didn’t know you liked being loved on. You deserve it, baby, I’m here for you, always.”

Her words had simultaneously embarrassed and made Criston want to kneel at her feet, awaiting her next command. He remained quiet, cheeks flushing heavily, worried internally his nose would start bleeding. Swann curled at his side and stroked his messy curls.

“Don’t be ashamed, you deserve to feel good. ‘Sides I know you have more to go, gotta be pretty full from going a week. You want me to take care of that, empty you out?”

Criston gritted his teeth and whined. He wanted it so bad. The demon in his head teased and prodded him, spitting lies. “She thinks you’re a weak little bitch, you really gonna spread your legs and bare your neck like a slut?” the voice said. He moaned softly, pained from the dissonance.

His manager whispered gently, a small hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest.

“Criston, baby, stop thinking so much, and let me do it for you.”

He melted into her warm embrace, the proposition flicking on a switch he didn’t know existed. She smiled as he slurred out a ‘yes’ and went lax under her palms. Criston didn’t know at the time— that submitting completely to another made his mind stop for a bit.

He was euphoric, eyes focused on her as they entered the hotel. She waved off any reporters and led him by the hand. Criston clung to her like a needy child in the elevator, his cock swelled up again. The manager let him rut a bit on her tight skirt and giggled at his desperation.

When they finally, finally gotten to the room— she stripped Criston down and made him cum until he cried, all the adrenaline sapped out of his body. He lost count of how many times her mouth and hand brought him to completion. He got to float in his head, tongue too thick and limbs too heavy to do anything but whine and be coddled.

Criston woke up later as a new man. He felt he could breathe. Then the games began as his record kept going up, Cole escalating to the fucking top. He didn’t know what to do with all the money except buy his family a house and Swann anything she desired.

He’d won again. Shaking his fist and snarling obscenities at Strong on the ground. He’d get another fuck-ton of money and go home happy. He’d picked up the belt and grinned, elated at his thirtieth win. On the top of the world.

Criston’s mind began to whirl as he stalked down the hallway. He briskly showered and answered a couple of questions to the press. She waited to the side, sinful red lips curled upwards. Swann was wearing the red bottoms he bought her, pretty legs shown off in her little dress and blazer.

When she nodded toward the exit he followed, agitated at the annoying reporter still asking questions. Criston didn’t want to upset her, so he kept his mouth shut and followed along, pulling his hoodie up. His balls fucking throbbed. He wanted to fuck his angel so bad, maybe she’d let him on a special occasion like this.

He got into the dark luxury vehicle, inhaling her sweet scent. Criston was close to getting feral, mouth watering at the possibilities. Still, he remained mute. Until she shifted, facing him in the dark, eyes full of affection. Criston couldn’t help the thin whine that burst from his chest at her attention.

“Look’it you. Took down Breakbones, got thirty wins, fucking hell baby,” she drew closer to him, “Criston Cole, you’re the real deal! You wanna fuck me, baby boy? I think you’ve earned it.”

“Pleaseplease, yes, fucking yes,” he pled.

A stagnant pause fell over the back of the car.

“Thank you,” he moaned, “Thank you.”

“Good boy, don’t forget your manners.”

She placed a warm hand high on his thigh, massaging the sore muscle. Her other palm caressed Criston’s patched-up cheek. She hummed “A kiss?” He nodded eagerly, vibrating in place, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. But Criston knew he had to be her good boy.

The woman softly pecked his lips, pulling back to watch Criston chase with a sad noise. She smiled and kissed him again, deeper this time. He eagerly opened his mouth for her, shivering as her nimble tongue playfully lapped at his own. Criston’s hands balled up in his sweats— no touching, no touching unless given permission.

Their lips wetly smacked in the dark car, her hand moving up to rub maddeningly at his straining cock. Criston cried out into her mouth, hips bucking helplessly. She laughed and nibbled on his shapely lower lip, hand squeezing his manhood.

“S’all mine isn’t it? My cock, just for me.”

He nodded in misery, his body wanted to let go, but it was a bit of a process to get Criston in the headspace he wanted. She knew how to get him there. Like her lips against his ear, tits pressed against his chest as she purred, “Easy love, relax, I’ve got you honey.”

“Mmm- gods, need it,” he gritted out, dark eyes lolling.

As her firm hand jerked him over the sweats, Criston’s manager nipped and kissed at his clean-shaven cheeks and neck. She whispered, “Sweet boy, I know you are s’hard, relax, relax, you’re gonna get to cum all night baby. As much as you want, just gotta let go okay?”

She praised and played with him some more, Criston began to pant hoarsely, thighs shaking as he neared the precipice. She tutted when the car stopped, “Get yourself together baby, we’re here now.” He blinked, a tear falling down his cheek, bewildered by the way she left him.

He was so fucking close! The boxer sulked and groaned at his denied orgasm, eyes watery from how intense his balls were throbbing now. He wiped his eyes and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up again, keeping his head low. He hoped the half-assed tucking of his hard-on worked.

They walked in sync to the elevators. He sulked, “M’so hard it hurts.” Criston’s girl pouted her lips, patting his cheek, “I know, I know sweet boy, but we can’t keep the driver waiting. Almost there, don’t be so needy.”

Criston wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his face into her neck. He would be good, he wouldn’t hump or bite. He merely wanted to hold her for a second before the elevator dinged. Swann hummed and nuzzled back into his hair.

Onward they went, Criston’s mind growing fuzzier and fuzzier as his body thrummed with need. Upon entering the penthouse suite— her entire demeanor changed. She snapped, “Go get undressed and kneel for me by the bed.”

He nodded in little jerks, undressing and folding them neatly, just how his mistress liked. Criston shuddered as the cool air hit his cock, swallowing heavily as he knelt before the foot of the bed. His hands shook with need, his adrenaline still thrashing and pumping underneath the skin.

He was downright panting by the time she came out of the bathroom, naked as he was. Criston bit on his lip, eyes watering again. The angel laughed, “You sure are worked up tonight.” She padded behind Criston, winding a hand into his hair, eliciting another agonized noise from the boxer.

“You are so damn talented, the Warrior smiles on you. I’m proud.”

“Thank you, thank you ma'am,” he whispered.

“I’m going to get on the bed and you’re going to fuck all that energy and cum out okay?”

“Yes ma’am- ohmygods.”

Criston’s brows pulled together as she laid before him, legs crooked and spread, her cunt shining with slick. He growled, digging his nails into the skin of his thigh. She crooked her fingers playfully, “C’mon baby, you’re allowed to touch. Use me, my special pet earned it.”

He almost felt bad in the way he roughly had pulled her ass flush to his hips, the flesh smacking loudly. Criston had eagerly gotten on his knees in the center of the soft bed, slotting his swollen cock against her slick pussy. “F-fuck, fuck, gonna use you baby, ’m sorry,” he gritted out. She smiled and shrugged, moaning as he rutted against her a couple more times.

Criston’s dark eyes rolled up as he entered her velvet cunt, warm and sososo tight. He snarled as he snapped his hips into his baby. She was crying out and digging sharp nails into his shoulders. Cole knew he was lost in the feeling, rasping and groaning possessive, ugly things he would never say out loud.

But when legs were wrapped around his waist and she was mewling his name? Criston had lost his firm barriers. He rumbled into her ear between kisses and bites, “My godsdamn pussy, mine, you’re mine, I’ll f-fucking kill anyone who touches you, looks at you, gods I’ll do anything!”

He groaned, balls drawing up quicker than expected. She was crying out “Yes! yes! All yours!” Criston sucked in a wet breath at her neck, hips driving into her at a breakneck pace, hands bruising her pretty skin. He choked on his drool, unable to warn her— Criston’s orgasm was that intense.

She tightened around him when his cock flooded, absolutely flooded her pussy. Criston moaned and clenched his jaw, fucking through the oversensitivity. His girl dug her heels into his ass to spur him on. The boxer swallowed down a little mewl. Everything was still so swollen, he had to keep fucking, keep cumming.

“Mmm, yes! Don’t stop baby, oh Criston!”

“I-I am, fuuuck, g’nna fill you up again!"

He drove his hips upward, lifting her hips so that Criston could get at her g-spot. She raked a bloody mark across his back, gasping in delight. He rambled while thumbing desperately at her clit, “Yeah, yeah, feel s’good, cum on me baby, need to feel you, m’close again!”

Criston wasn’t sure if it was her gorgeous wail or her pussy gushing on his cock or both but he came again. She chose to mouth at his lips, shaky legs clenching around him, hand pulling the hair at the nape of his neck. Meanwhile, he whined Swann’s name, the quickness of his second orgasm turning Criston’s brain into jello.

The slick noises between them were loud and sloppy, he was stuttering and whining. She threw her pretty head back and moaned. Criston was finding words hard. He kept fucking and fucking. She felt too good and he had so much cum for her.

“That’s it, keep it up,” she grunted.

Criston slurred, “Ca-can’t stop, can’t, can't!”

He felt his eyes grow wet as his overstimulated cock was gripped and milked by her cunt. The angel, his angel, wrapped her arms around his sweaty neck, his hips forcing little 'uhs' out of her plush lips. Criston blabbered uselessly, words bordering on sobs now. It felt too good, the pain and pleasure were ecstasy to him. He bottomed out inside her, stopping to mewl long and high before returning to feverishly thrusting again.

“Oh, oh, angel- hurts- s’good ohmygods your pussy, gotta cum again, m’sorry m’so sorry!”

She nuzzled at his jaw, moaning, “It’s okay, doing so good for me, needy baby. You needed this, poor baby’s balls are so full.”

“S’full,” he agreed, mindless and shivering.

Criston’s thighs began to twitch as he felt another wave cresting. He practically wailed as the third peak licked up his spine— white hot and mean. She gasped, nails digging into his flanks, pussy pulsing around another load of Criston’s molten cum.

He was a mess, wordless and drooling. Criston began to move again, gaze unfocused and mouth agape. He whimpered, all overstimulated and still fucking frantic. Criston felt like he’d die if he didn’t stop, tears pouring down his flushed cheeks.

Her hands held his face now, her lips saying something. Criston slowly cocked his head, attempting to understand his manager’s words. She said it again, this time louder with a smack to his cheek. Criston stopped his movements, protesting with a weak noise.

“Babydoll, you gotta fuck my thighs, I'm starting to hurt. I’m going to turn over, okay precious? Got that?”

His lips trembled— Criston didn’t want to do that. He wanted her pussy. He slid out anyway, a torrent of white spend flooding out of her well-used entrance, seeping onto the bed. She marveled "Oh Criston, you still have anything left?" The woman hissed under her breath as she flipped onto her stomach. She tucked a pillow under her hips, giving him access to her thighs, slicked with their release.

Criston stared— unsure how to proceed. His cock was so flushed it purpled, aching horribly. He whined, frustrated with his stupidity, the man just wanted familiar tightness again. She sighed and reached back, ushering his knees and thighs to cage her legs in, forcing Criston forward.

He gasped in delight when his cock slid between her soft thighs, warm and wet. His depleted brain decided this would do. Criston’s thrusts were jerky and uncoordinated, he was growing too sensitive to go on much further. He kept at it, crying and sniffling like a babe.

“Awe baby, you’re hurting huh?”

“Mhm!” he replied, scrunching his face up tight. He had to cum one more time, he had to! Even if it was excruciating, the pleasure ramped up into nerves prickling all over his worn body. She watched him with lidded eyes, lips in a smirk. Criston exhaled again, throwing his head back to sob.

“Gotta- I gotta,” he mewled.

“I know sweetheart, so close, let it all out, you’ll feel so much better. You’re so pretty like this— all fucked out and still want more. Knocked your whore brain sideways. My cute slutty puppy, I love youuu.”

Criston folded under the praise, his body contracting once more, stomach cramping as he devolved into cries. His abused cock managed to dribble one little last bit. He couldn’t stop crying, falling back onto his haunches. Swann guided him down to shush and pet his hair. She murmured, "You're okay, all done now, I'm here, not going anywhere. Just breathe."

Criston’s muscles were all loose but the adrenaline had been sapped quickly. He was gutted— in a good way. Just couldn’t help the reaction, he knew it would happen after an intense romp like this. His baby curled into his heaving side, laying feathery kisses on his jaw, a relaxing hand at his diaphragm.

“That’s it, let it out, poor baby. Couldn’t help yourself hm?”

Criston nodded through the incessant tears, his shaky hand threading through her hair. He rasped, “I love you so much. You’re perfect.” He was growing more sleepy, settled by her kisses and glowing smile. He could float easy and enjoy the win, curled up with his lifesaver. Well, after she got him water and wiped down the mess. He realized with a smile— she had laid a towel underneath them.

She’d have to help him function tomorrow, Criston knew he’d be scrambled eggs, sore, and a bit grumpy. But that’s why they kept a suite for three days. After the kick off he would rest up and replenish. They would fuck sensually, cuddle, and watch a in some order of that fashion.

His addled mind conjured up a big diamond ring he’d buy for her.

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Three

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - smut and alcohol

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This is the chapter where the smut starts. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~3.3k

A/N : This chapter picks up a couple of weeks after the last and things are finally going to get moving a bit. Again, thank you so much for reading and liking the previous chapters, I really hope you’ll enjoy where I plan to go with this!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

Weeks passed, time and space allowing you to forget about Billy and the offer he’d made you. To her credit, Tammy had stuck with the job at Anvil and even seemed to be enjoying it, and she only rarely expected you to drop her off or pick her up. And Billy was nowhere to be seen; if he knew you were there, if he noticed your car, he didn’t bother to come out to see you. Everything felt like it was as it should be. In fact, everything felt better than it should.

Most days you didn’t even see Tammy; she’d go to work then out for food with her new friends, not getting home until late, leaving you with the whole apartment to yourself. Not that you were home much. No, you’d been taking extra shifts, trying to save some money. Soon enough Tammy would realise that she didn’t need you to split the bills and you’d wanted to be ready for when that day came.

As much as you didn’t want to have to move out, the thought of having your own space seemed nice. 

Space that you found yourself desperately wishing for when Tammy texted you to let you know that she was throwing a party. You’d just finished your last delivery of the evening and all you’d wanted to do was go home, take the world's hottest shower, and then climb into bed. 

Instead, when you got home, you had to fight to get to the bathroom, and suffer through the quickest shower imaginable because Tammy’s guests kept banging on the door. As for going to bed early? You gave up on that dream before you’d even reached the apartment door; the noise from the party flooded out into the stairwell, practically shaking the fucking walls.

You tried to be a good sport about it, hiding away in your room with your headphones on, trying to relax after a long day but you couldn’t. After two hours, you were at your wits end and you needed a drink (or to strangle Tammy - whichever opportunity presented itself first). Having to force your way through a crowd just to get to your own kitchen did little to help your mood but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Right in front of the refrigerator stood a leggy blonde - the sort with devastating curves and a perfect figure - but she wasn’t the one that held your attention. No, you were more stuck on the person at the end of her arm, the man whose chest her hand was possessively resting on. Billy-fucking-Russo.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered aloud but still remained unnoticed. Insignificant. Inconsequential. 

For a few moments, you waited, like an expectant child, hoping someone would finally realise that you were there and move, but the longer you watched them, her hand stroking his chest and his eyes on hers, the angrier you felt. And you blamed him.

Normally it wouldn’t have bothered you  - you were fine with blending in, with people not noticing you - normally you would have cut your losses and returned to your room. But he was standing there, in your home with that shit-eating grin on his lips while some woman pawed at him.

The anger was irrational, it was stupid - you’d told him no, you didn’t get to be angry. But why had he even asked? Why go through all of that when it was obviously so easy for him? He’d stood in front of you and laughed at the idea you weren��t his type, but here he was, proving you right. Was that why he’d given up so easily? (Though could you really call it easy when you’d told him no at least half a dozen times?)

Finally, something broke inside of you.

“Hey, can you fucking move?” It came out before you could stop yourself, a little louder than it really needed to be, but it got her attention.

And his.

“Excuse me?” She turned on you and, yeah, she was just as pretty face on.

“Hey, you’re here,” Billy smiled, though the smile only lasted for a moment.

“Of course I’m here, I fucking live here.” You snapped, pulling the refrigerator door open, forcing the blonde to step back.

“Oh, you’re the roommate, the bike messenger. That’s cute.” The blonde smirked, all but looking down her nose at you (which honestly wasn’t hard given the five inch heels she was standing on).

“I’ll show you fucking cute in a minute,” you practically snarled as you fished a can of beer from the fridge. 

She stepped forwards, ready to call your bluff, but Billy decided to chime in.

“Michelle, can you give us a moment?” He barely even looked at her and, under different circumstances, you might have enjoyed the way her face dropped at being dismissed by him. But you were too angry at him to pay her much mind once she started to walk away, even if she did mutter something that sounded vaguely threatening under her breath as she went.

Billy looked at you, obviously trying to figure out where your little outburst had come from. You tongued the inside of your cheek, glancing around at the mess Tammy’s guests had left all over the kitchen - mess you’d probably have to clean up in the morning.

“You should probably go after her,” you finally broke the silence, “she might fall off those heels and break her neck.”

“I’m sorry.” He offered with something of a sigh.

“For what?”

“For what she said. It was shitty.”

“It’s fine.” It really wasn’t fine. “I’m used to it.” It still pissed you off though. “And if it really bothered you, you should’ve at least had the balls to say it was shitty while she was still standing here. Not that I need you protecting me.”

“Have I done something wrong?” He finally decided to ask. “I feel like you’re pissed at me but I did exactly what you wanted me to do, I stayed away.”

“Being in my apartment isn’t staying away, Billy.”

“And that’s why you’re pissed? Because I came to a party? It’s not like I was trying to hunt you down, you came over here. Tammy said you’d stay in your room, that -”

“You know what? Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” With that, you turned and started to walk away from him, swiping a bottle of vodka from the counter as you made your way back. Billy called after you, but he didn’t dare try to follow, and you didn’t breathe again until you were safely back in your room.

The next hour or so faded into something of a blur once you opened the vodka. Outside of your room the party raged on, showing no signs of ending anytime soon, but all you could think about was Billy. Have I done something wrong? It played over and over in your head and, even hours later, you still didn’t have an answer.

Yes, he’d done something wrong.

Only, no, he hadn’t.

You’d told him no, you’d turned him down; you didn’t get to be upset that he was letting other women throw themselves at him. You didn’t get to be angry that he was probably going to take Michelle home with him tonight. But you were angry, and that’s what annoyed you the most.

You felt used, felt like you’d been nothing more than a game to him and that, even if you had said yes, he would have dropped you the moment someone like her looked his way. 

Most of all you were upset that you had nothing to offer a man like Billy Russo.

After a while you got to your feet, planning on heading to the kitchen again for a glass of water - who would have guessed that trying to drink straight vodka was not the best idea? Being south of sober definitely made navigating the crowd of people a lot more interesting. Until you ran into her. Literally. Her drink fell from her hand the moment you collided, most going on you, but enough ending up on her.

You didn’t stop or wait to hear what she had to say, suddenly feeling like everyone was looking at you. You didn’t even make it to the kitchen, instead you ducked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you, banging your fist against the door, needing to do something to help release the frustration. Once you were done hitting the door, you leaned against it, pressing your forehead against the wood, trying to get your shit together enough to go back out there and make it back to your room without causing anymore issues.

It wasn’t until you heard the toilet flush that you realised you weren’t alone.

And, as you turned, there he was. Billy-fucking-Russo pulling up his zipper.

“Shit, sorry -” you blurted out, cheeks burning with embarrassment, “- the lock, sometimes it doesn’t -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy shrugged, washing his hands like it was all perfectly normal, “though if you wanna work your frustration out, I can suggest something a little better than punching the door.”

“Of course you can,” rolling your eyes. “Can you just go, please?”

“I would, but I don’t think you really want that, sweetheart,” he smiled, waving his hand, reminding you that you were still pressed against the door, trapping him in there with you. You didn’t move. “Seriously, what did I do to piss you off? You asked me not to bother you anymore, so I left you alone. Why are you acting like I kicked your dog?”

As he spoke, Billy stepped forwards. You didn’t move, you just kept your eyes fixed on his, on those dark eyes that seemed to look right through all of your bullshit. You could get lost in those eyes; you wanted him to look right through you to all the things you kept hidden, just to prove yourself right about him when he walked away.

You didn’t answer his question. You didn’t have an answer for him. Silence fell and the space between you shrunk with every passing second until you had to tilt your head back against the door just to look at him.

“Why me?” You finally dared to ask the question that had been plaguing you since that first kiss.

“Why you, what?”

“Why kiss me when you have women like Michelle throwing themselves at you? Was it a slow week or did you think I’d just be desperate enough to say yes?” There was a pain in your words that you didn’t want to share with him; you didn’t want Billy to know that you were jealous, that he’d made you feel cheap and easily replaced.

For a second he looked at you, like he was thinking, like he was trying to understand just what you were saying. His eyes stayed fixed on yours, catching every little flicker of upset. Then he was moving, reaching for you and pulling you towards him, while simultaneously pressing you back against the door, his lips finding yours.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. No, it was everything you thought of when you dared to think of Billy; dominant and eager, possessive and hungry. His teeth nipped your lower lip, relieving you of your last scrap on common sense. You could taste whiskey on his lips and on his tongue as you fought with him to deepen the kiss, to get everything you could from him. Fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, his body strong and firm against yours.

His hand held the back of your neck, fingers tangling with your hair, holding you in place while he devoured you with his kiss. It wasn’t long before your hips started to move, pressing yourself against him, trying to find some sort of relief.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed against your lips.

The confession was almost enough to distract from the hand that moved between your bodies. Your thigh lifted to his hip, desperately pressing closer and closer while his lips began to trail up and down your neck. His touch made you feel like you were burning from the inside out and your breath caught the moment you felt his hand slip beneath the waistband of your leggings and into your panties. Your head fell back against the door as his fingers slipped lower, and by the time they reached your clit, you were aching for him.

Billy paused for the briefest of seconds, waiting for any sign that he’d gone too far. You gave him none. His lips covered yours again, kissing you and swallowing down all the gasps and moans that started to spill from you the moment his fingers started to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wasn’t slow or gentle, he was eager, pushing you violently towards breaking point; too fast, too soon.

You felt the bang through the door before you heard it, Tammy called your name, and you froze.

“W-what?” You called out, quickly realising that Billy’s fingers were still moving and he had no intention of stopping. 

“Did you just throw a drink at Michelle?”

Billy’s hand sunk lower through the arousal that had soaked your panties and started to ease a finger inside you. The look on his face was shamelessly smug, enjoying watching you struggle to keep quiet. But you didn’t push him away, didn’t try to make him stop; you wanted him to do his worst.

Tammy banged on the door again.

“Well, did you?”

“No,” you gasped as his finger started to stroke into you from tip to knuckle.

“She said you did.”

His finger bent inside you while his thumb teased your clit; he knew exactly what he was doing, how impossible he was making things.

“I didn’t, it - it was an accident.” Your voice broke and your back arched, pressing into his touch.

His lips moved to your ear, tongue trailing along your lobe before he whispered; “you’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” And, as if to prove the point (or maybe just because he was enjoying watching you squirm) Billy sank a second finger into your wetness. Just one look at him told you everything you needed to know; he loved how much control he had over you, how much power.

“I said how did you accidentally -”

“Tammy, I -” you bit your lips together, trying to swallow down a moan, clenching around his fingers, “- I didn’t do anything to Michelle, so can you just fuck off and leave me alone?”

“You are fucking unbelieveable, you know that? I can’t fucking -”

Whatever she was saying, it didn’t matter. Your fingers tangled in Billy’s hair and you pulled him into a needy kiss, using his lips to muffle the sounds he was tearing from you. Every stroke from his fingers left you feeling dizzy, taking another piece of your sanity with them every time they pulled back. Your hips shifted, riding his fingers, taking everything he was giving you.

You already knew that you were going to let him fuck you. You were already thinking about it; right there against the door first, then bent over the sink so you could watch him in the mirror. Everywhere, anywhere. Every little thing was Billy, as his fingers drove you higher and higher.

Awkwardly, you ran your hand down the front of his shirt to his pants, finding the bulge of his erection and palming it through the fabric. You felt Billy’s lips pull into a smile against yours, his hips pressing into your touch. Fuck, you couldn’t get over how hard he was because of you. 

His fingers bent, stretching you, exploring you, until they found a spot that made you shudder.

“Billy -” you cried against his lips.

“So that’s what you sound like when you cry my name,” he groaned in response, looking at you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You could tell that he wanted more, that he needed everything from you. It should have scared you just how much he wanted but as his fingers found that spot over and over again, you couldn’t think about anything but Billy and how he was making you feel.

Your hand moved, tracing the hard outline of his cock, but you couldn’t do much more than that as Billy’s fingers dragged you to orgasm. He kissed you as you came, fingers still stroking into you, trying to drag the moment out as long as possible. Even his lips and tongue couldn’t completely muffle the moans and cries that spilled from you but, if anything, Billy seemed to enjoy it.

When it was done, your foot found the floor again, legs shaking beneath you as you tried to catch your breath. And, as you did, reality started to hit home. 

What had you just done? You’d let your roommate's new boss finger you in the bathroom at a party after drinking too much vodka, that's what.

And, why? Because you’d been jealous that he’d been giving someone else a shred of attention. Because he’d done exactly what you’d asked him to and he’d left you alone.

His lips moved back to your neck, his body pressed impossibly close, letting you know he wasn’t done. Billy wanted more. And you - fuck, some part of you still wanted that, especially when he pulled back his fingers and left you feeling devastatingly empty. You hated how worthless you suddenly felt knowing that you’d given him what he wanted from you - so what if he’d been thinking about you? That didn’t change the fact that, if you hadn’t stumbled into the bathroom, he probably would have taken Michelle home.

(He still could take her home. He could fuck her with the same fingers he'd just had inside you.)

Your whole body tensed when you felt his hands tugging at your leggings, and you knew it couldn't continue.

“Stop,” you finally managed to find your voice again, pushing him away from you.

Billy looked at you, confused and maybe even a little angry (or maybe you wanted him to be angry because it made what came next easier for you).

“What’s wrong?” He asked, expression softening when he noticed the look of anguish on your face.

“I can’t -” your voice broke. You hated yourself and hated him for making you feel that way, for twisting up your insides and giving you a fleeting glimpse of feelings you knew could never last.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek, trying to soothe you before you recoiled.

“I shouldn’t've, I - I need to -”

For the first time since you’d met him, Billy was left lost for words, trying to figure out what had happened in the last thirty seconds to trigger this sudden change in you, and you took the opportunity to open the door and slip away from him. You heard him call after you but you didn’t stop, making your way through the small crowd that had somehow managed to cram itself into your apartment. You didn’t see him try to follow after you, you didn’t look back, even as you reached the front door and left the apartment. 

You walked for a little while, not really knowing where you were going or what you were going to do. You just knew that you couldn’t go back, that you couldn’t face him. Eventually you wound up in the little diner a couple of blocks over where you sometimes grabbed breakfast in the morning and you stayed there, drinking coffee and eating pancakes until the early hours of the morning, until you were certain that the party would have finished and everyone would have left.

As much as you didn’t want to, you kept thinking about Billy, about everything that had happened, and how much you’d wanted it before the panic had set in. By the time you finally made it home, you were exhausted, crawling into bed and promising yourself that you’d stay away from Billy Russo from then on.

END NOTES : After the next part there are going to be fewer time jumps between chapters, I just wanted to kind of let Billy and the reader stew in their emotions for a bit. The next part is pretty much finished, it just needs some editing (funny story, the T and the I keys on my laptop are loose so if there’s any hilarious typos that slip though that’s probably why). But, yeah, the next part should be up next saturday!

As always, thank you so much for reading and liking and doing all the tumblr things, it means a lot to me! Also I have a tag list now so drop a comment or message me if you wanted to be added

Have a great day!

Chapter Four

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Chapter Three

Ch 1 Ch 2 <-

WC: 4769 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 3/10 | AO3

Note: Trigger warnings apply very strongly to this chapter, and it is probably the heaviest chapter of the fic.

~Steve~

Steve had been a little on edge all day. 

He kept trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal, that tonight would be just like any other post Upside Down fuckery get-together, nothing whatsoever to get worked up over.

But it was no use.

It was a big deal. Tonight would be the first time any of them had set eyes on Eddie since the night they’d killed Vecna—since the night they’d almost lost the other boy for good. 

Assuming he actually showed. 

Steve almost couldn’t believe it when Dustin called saying Eddie had finally come to the phone, and not only spoke to him but agreed to a party. 

It seemed like a huge step after he’d so thoroughly cut them all off. Because no matter how many times Steve had told Dustin to give it time, that everyone heals from trauma in their own way, at their own pace, Steve knew that’s exactly what Eddie had done—he just didn't understand why.

It gave him a bad feeling about the night to come.

Still, the relief at hearing that Eddie had finally reached out to one of them, that Steve might finally get to see him whole and well after keeping him alive through sheer force of will alone, only to have Eddie ripped away from him at the hospital never to be seen again…

It had been enough to send him to his knees.

The phone rang, pulling Steve from his thoughts and forcing him to stop wiping the already clean kitchen counter to answer. It had to be Robin. He’d known this would happen. She swore she’d get her mom to drop her off for once so he wouldn’t have to venture out when Jonathan and Nancy were already picking up the kids.

"Hey, Rob. You need a ride after all?"

"Steve?” A voice that was definitely not his best friend’s came over the line. “It's Wayne."

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I thought—"

"Boy,” Wayne huffed, and Steve could practically feel him shaking his head. “How many times are you gonna make me say it?"

"Sorry—Wayne,” Steve corrected himself. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to calling the older man by his first name, it just wasn’t how he was raised, but Eddie’s uncle seemed hell bent on making sure he did. 

"That's better."

"Is everything okay? Is Eddie...?" Steve clutched the phone with both hands, willing the knot forming in his stomach to go away. He could only assume either something had happened, or Wayne was calling to tell him Eddie wasn’t coming after all. 

"He's fine,” Wayne was quick to reassure him. ���As fine as he’s been, at least. He's in the shower now getting ready to head over to your place. I can't tell you how happy I am that he's finally going to see some of his friends."

"Me too. I… I know the kids miss him."

“Right,” Wayne huffed a laugh. "You say that as if you’re not a kid yourself."

Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining the double meaning or not, but decided to ignore it.

“I guess I just haven't felt like one in a long time.” 

Wayne hummed in understanding. "I hope it’s not too much to ask, but keep a close eye on Ed tonight, will ya? I know this is a good thing. Him getting out of the house feels like the first step towards him living his life again, but… well, you know I worry."

"It’s no problem," Steve said immediately. 

As if that hadn’t already been his plan for the evening.

“Thank you, Steve. Oh, and I think maybe it’d be best if we don’t let on to Eddie that we’ve been talking. He might take it the wrong way, like we been talking bad about him behind his back. Would you mind keeping it between you and me?” 

They sort of had been talking about him behind his back, but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t malicious. And Steve knew there were things Wayne didn’t share. Half the time the older man simply told stories about Eddie growing up.

“I won’t say a word, promise.”

Steve's camaraderie with Eddie's uncle wasn’t something he ever could have predicted coming out of all this.

Wayne had been understandably skeptical when he learned that his nephew had been found, and his life saved by a group of kids, and that that group had included one Steve Harrington. 

Steve’s dad and Wayne had to be roughly the same age, and Richard Harrington had long held a reputation for being a stuck up asshole. Steve also had no idea what tales Eddie might have come home telling about his own asshole years, so he could hardly blame the man for being wary when they’d first met in the hospital’s waiting room. 

Regardless of his concerns, Wayne had still looked Steve’s number up in the phonebook and called, on one of the rare days he wasn’t already there haunting the halls of Hawkins General, to tell him that Eddie had finally woken up. Though at the time he still wasn’t allowed visitors.

They wound up talking on the phone for more than an hour, until Wayne ran out of change.

Steve couldn't tell Eddie’s uncle anything about the Upside Down or Vecna, for fear of violating the NDAs they’d all signed years ago, even if Brenner was dead now, and no one had shown up yet this time around to demand their continued silence. And to his surprise the older man didn't push, almost like he knew there were things Steve wasn’t allowed to share no matter how much he might want to. 

He did explain, in the most sanitized version of events possible, that he and the others had been with Eddie the whole time. Trying to protect him, to hide him from the citizens that were hell-bent on hunting him down, while also dodging the advances of the real killer. And when the worst had happened, he—Steve, had done CPR, refusing to let Eddie succumb to his injuries.

It was all the truth he could offer, and really it wasn’t that far off. Wayne had cried quietly into the receiver, though they both pretended he hadn’t, and couldn’t seem to thank Steve enough. 

Steve went on to tell him about the boathouse. How he hadn’t really known Eddie that well in school, but that even after the other boy had threatened him with a broken bottle to his neck, he quickly realized that everyone had it wrong. Under all the leather and chains, and loud brashness, Eddie was sensitive, kind, and wouldn’t hurt a fly unless provoked. 

He even went so far as to say that he hoped, once the dust settled anyway, that he and Eddie could get to know each other better. Not the most damning of statements, but still more than he’d really meant to share. Steve wasn’t sure what had possessed him to be so honest. There was just something about Wayne Munson that made him feel comfortable and safe.

They spoke every single day after that. Either on the phone, or more often in person when both of them were camped out in the hospital’s waiting room with a revolving cast of others. 

It’d been hard to hear that Eddie didn’t want to see anyone. 

Wayne hadn’t said those exact words, of course, but it wasn’t hard for Steve to read between the lines. The entire group of them, not just those who had fought against Vecna from Hawkins, but Mike, El, Will, Jonathan, Jonathan’s friend Argyle who had inexplicably stuck around after driving the rest of them cross country in his pizza van— even though some of them had never even met Eddie, they all rushed to the hospital when word came down that their friend’s name had finally been cleared. His restrictions lifted.  

Dustin took it the hardest, refusing to go home because if Steve wasn’t leaving, then why did he have to go? And Steve couldn’t really argue with that, he’d done this to himself. Thankfully Claudia showed up eventually and didn’t give her son the choice.

Steve continued to talk to Wayne often, still went to the hospital nearly every day, even though it was clear that reports on Eddie’s progress from his uncle would be all the proof of life he’d get. Wayne was always checking in on Steve too, asking if he was eating, sleeping, that sorta thing. It was kind of nice having an adult fuss over him like that, he’d almost forgotten what it was like.

-

Robin grabbed Steve by the hem of his polo, forcibly pulling him into the kitchen where Nancy, Jon, and Argyle were hanging out.

“Hey, watch it!” Steve yanked himself out of her grip, straightening his shirt. 

Robin leaned in close to whisper. “You have to stop staring, dingus. You’re going to freak him out.”

Steve scoffed, keeping his own voice low. “As if he’s even looked in my direction once.”

“I know Wayne asked you to look out for him tonight, but don’t you think you’re taking it a little too seriously?”

“I told you that in confidence!” Steve hissed under his breath. 

“Just relax. He seems fine to me.” Robin patted him on the arm and turned to join Nancy in her discussion about studying for finals.

She wasn’t wrong exactly. Eddie did seem fine—with everyone else. 

Eddie had been the last to arrive and Steve worried at first that it might be too much, walking into a house full of people and being inundated by the likes of Mike and Dustin. He’d even said as much to the younger teens when they heard the squealing of brakes as Eddie’s van pulled up, warning them not to overwhelm him with questions or say anything about the hospital. 

And for a moment Steve thought he’d been wrong. 

Eddie came through the door, dimples on display, all big stupidly pretty smiles, a bit crooked now from the still healing scar near his mouth, but that only drew Steve’s attention to his lips more. 

He hugged Dustin, reintroduced himself to Jonathan, who of course remembered him from school, met Argyle and El, and greeted everyone else one by one. 

Everyone but Steve. 

No one else seemed to notice the oversight, and Steve, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, proceeded to quietly brood in the corner, taking breaks only to freshen his beer so he’d have something to do with himself while he observed—not stared, Robin.

The longer he watched, the more convinced he became that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be. His already lithe frame looked even thinner now. He was swimming in his usual ripped jeans and faded Black Sabbath t-shirt. No, Steve still didn’t know who they were, but he could read damnit. And there was something in the set of Eddie’s shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists when he thought no one was looking, a tightness around his eyes—eyes with dark bruising below that spoke of many sleepless nights.

Or maybe Steve was overreacting. Maybe this was just what happens when someone is recovering from almost dying in a hell dimension. Maybe it was a good thing Robin had pulled him away before he could do or say anything to embarrass himself. 

Steve wasn’t sure how long he’d been milling about the kitchen making awful small talk with his ex-girlfriend, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s stoner best friend when Eddie came stumbling into the kitchen, Robin following close behind with wide eyes on her way back from the bathroom.

Eddie mumbled out an apology to no one as he banged into the counter before finding his way to the fridge where he took out a beer, and proceeded to down it in one go with the door still hanging wide open in front of him. 

Steve shared a baffled look with Robin. There was no way Eddie had gotten that drunk off of the two, now three beers, he’d had since he arrived. He had to have started before he got there, or broken into Steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet in the office. 

“Hey, Eddie… um, do you think maybe you should slow down?” Steve said cautiously, taking a tentative step towards the other boy as he popped open yet another beer. 

At least he closed the refrigerator door this time.

“That an order, King Steve?” Eddie slurred out, looking Steve in the eye for the first time all evening. He swayed into Steve’s space, poking a finger into his chest. “How about you just mind your own fucking business for once, and leave me alone.”

Eddie’s words were biting, vicious, and Steve found himself taking a step back, holding his hands up as if surrendering. This time it was Nancy he exchanged a quick glance with. She looked just as confused as he felt, brows tightly furrowed, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Man, that’s—that’s not—” Steve began, floundering for what to say. He didn’t understand what was happening, why Eddie was so angry. He thought they’d moved past high school reputations after everything. “I just don’t want to see you get sick or something.”

“Whatever,” Eddie made a dramatic show out of rolling his eyes, before fumbling in his pockets and pulling out his keys. “I’m outta here.”

When Steve hesitated, afraid to make it worse, Robin walked right up to Eddie and snatched the set of keys out of his hand. “Oh no you don't. No way we’re letting you drive like this.”

“Fine, I’ll walk!” Eddie snapped, moving to step around her, but found Jonathan his path.

“You can’t walk all that way, man,” Jonathan said.

“Watch me,” Eddie spun on his heel, nearly fell when he lost his balance, and almost ran into Nancy who had moved to block the other way out of the kitchen.

“There’s still people out there who are after you, Eddie. It’s not safe," she said.

Eddie laughed, but it was an unsettling, hollow sound, devoid of any actual humor. He looked at them all in turn with dull eyes. “Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?”

“I do,” Steve blurted out, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “We all do. We’re your friends, Eddie. Of course we care.”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as he rounded on Steve again. “Yeah, sure.”

“Look, I’ve got a guest room, why don’t you sleep it off and you can drive home in the morning.”

“You just looove telling people what to do, don’t you?” Eddie crooned, mockingly. “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off.”

Robin moved to stand between them, facing Eddie. “What is your problem, huh?” 

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Eddie asked, tilting his head, pointing an accusing finger behind her. “Him. He’s my problem.”

Steve had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, but he tried to push it aside. It could be that Eddie was just an angry drunk or something, in which case, trying to reason with him right now was pointless, but he still had to ask.

“I don’t understand, Eddie. What did I do?” 

“You should have fucking left me there!” 

Everyone froze, the kitchen falling absolutely silent in the wake of Eddie’s words. Steve watched as all the blood drained from the other boy’s face, leaving him more ghostly pale than ever. 

Eddie took a stumbling step back from Robin, pushing past Jonathan, who didn’t try to stop him this time, and took off. Steve listened for the sound of the front door opening and closing but it never came. Instead he heard a door slam down the other end of the hall where the bathroom was, and realized that Robin still held Eddie’s van keys in her hand.

The raised voices of Dustin and Max filtered in from the other room, snapping the group of older teens back to life.

“Shit,” Steve ran his hands roughly through his hair. “You don’t think the kids heard any of that do you?”

Argyle jumped into action, peeking his head around the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room before turning back with an easy smile. “Nah, the little dudes are like, fully engrossed in arguing about what movie to watch, they’re fine.”

Steve raised his face to the ceiling, letting out the breath he’d been holding. Robin wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek into his arm.

“Nance, do you think you guys could drive everyone home?” Steve asked.

Nancy shrugged. “Yeah, yeah I guess, but… what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels like this is my fault somehow,” he said, leaning his head down against Robin’s for a moment, taking the comfort she offered while he could. He had a feeling the night wasn’t going to get any better from here. “So I should be the one to fix it.”

They told the kids that Eddie wasn’t feeling well, and had gone upstairs to lay down and needed quiet. They weren’t thrilled about getting kicked out, denied their big group sleepover, but Steve promised a raincheck and that seemed to smooth things over. 

Dustin lagged behind when the others split off into Nancy’s car and Argyle’s van, shooting suspicious looks between Steve and Robin. “I’m not stupid, I know something’s wrong. Something you're not telling me.”

“Do you trust me, Henderson?”

“You know I do.” Dustin scowled. “But you can’t treat me like a kid forever.”

Steve drew him into a tight hug. “I know, just… let me handle this one, okay?”

“You’ll take care of him?” Dustin asked, voice muffled where his face was pressed to Steve’s chest.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.” 

Robin was the last to go, hovering in the open doorway while Nancy’s car idled out front.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Steve would have loved for her to stay, to hold his hand through whatever the hell was about to happen, but he had a feeling he had a better chance of getting Eddie out of that bathroom without a crowd. And if Eddie wanted to keep taking his anger out on Steve, well, he could handle it, and at least no one else would have to hear. 

“I’ll be alright.”

“Are you going to call Wayne?” She asked.

He’d already been waffling back and forth about calling the older man. He didn’t want to worry Eddie’s uncle even more than he already was, but he might not have a choice.

“If I say yes, will you go?”

Robin elbowed him hard in the side before throwing her arms around his neck. “What Eddie said, Steve… I-I don’t like the sound of that.”

Steve swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat. “Me either.” 

-

Steve approached the bathroom slowly, wrapping his arms around himself when he heard Eddie sobbing through the closed door, so sorrowful and loud that he could practically feel the other boy’s pain. 

Steve’s heart broke.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly on the hollow wood.

The sound of Eddie’s cries was choked off abruptly, replaced with a muffled whimper. Steve could imagine clear as day the other boy sitting in there with a hand thrown over his own mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sound. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, taking more deep even breaths as he bowed his head. He was intimately familiar with bathroom floor breakdowns, and not just the one he and Robin now looked back on with an odd fondness, the moment they became them. He’d spent more than one night on a cold tile floor. After the first demogorgon, after the tunnels, the Russians and the mind flayer, and just a few weeks ago, after Vecna—after Eddie.

Steve sat, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his back against the door frame.

“It’s just me, Eddie. Everyone else is gone. Do you… do you want to come out and talk? Or I could come in there?” 

“Go away, Harrington,” Eddie said weakly. 

“If you don’t want to talk, I could just sit with you.”

“Haven’t you done enough, King Steve? Just leave me alone, man.” Eddie's voice shook.

It was the same words he’d thrown in Steve’s face in the kitchen, but the sharp edges had been filed off.

Steve sighed, letting his head fall back against the door with a soft thunk. “Come on, Eddie. You know I'm not that guy anymore. I thought we had a moment back there, in the woods?” 

He still had no idea where this was coming from. What had he done to make Eddie hate him all of the sudden?

Eddie let out another humorless chuckle. “A moment? What am I—your fucking prom date, Harrington?”

“You know what I mean. I thought we had an understanding, that we agreed we were both different than the other expected.”

“What part of any of this has convinced you that I’m not exactly the freak everyone says I am?”

“You’re not a—”

Steve’s reply was cut off by a metallic clatter on the other side of the door. His stomach dropped, his mouth went dry, and his heart began hammering in his chest. It could be nothing more than the chains from Eddie’s jeans dragging on the floor, but if it wasn’t… 

Steve shot to his feet, trying the handle though he knew it’d be locked.

It was.

“Open the door, Eddie.”

“Fuck off.”

Steve jiggled the handle again. “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re not gonna break your own door down.”

If Steve was right about what he thought might be happening in there, he’d do a lot worse than damaging a stupid door to stop it. 

“Try me.” 

Steve backed himself up, prepared to use his shoulder like a battering ram, when he heard the faint click of the lock disengaging.

The hinges squeaked as he pushed the door open carefully.

Eddie was huddled on the floor, wedged into the corner between the sink and the wall, curled in on himself. He rocked gently back and forth as he stared down at the knife gripped tightly in his hand. 

Steve kept his movements slow, kneeling down on the floor as far from Eddie as the cramped space would allow.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie whispered.

Steve swallowed back a pained sound, blinking back tears as his fingers itched to reach for the other boy, to hold him. He might not be the smartest guy in the room, but he was absolutely sure that when Eddie said here he wasn’t talking about Steve’s house.

He inched forward, holding his hand out.

“Please give me the knife.”

Eddie’s eyes, red rimmed and puffy, shot up to meet his, and they still held so much anger—but also a hint of fear. He snarled, but released his grip on the blade, letting it drop to the tile between them.  

As Steve reached for it, retracting the blade and slipping it carefully into his pocket, he let his gaze roam over Eddie’s body, relieved to see no spots of blood on him or the floor. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Eddie part with his blood again. 

Eddie hugged his legs to his chest, tucking himself into an even tighter little ball, glazing at Steve as he rested his head on his knees. “Always think you know what’s best, don't you? Who put you in charge, why do you get to make that decision?”

“I don’t—I don’t know anything, man.”

Eddie’s eyes fell shut, sending fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. “Why couldn’t you just leave me down there, huh? I was as good as dead. It would have been easier, safer.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pull Eddie into his lap and never let go. 

Eddie sniffled loudly, wiping his face on his jeans. “I did what I did to keep Dustin safe, to make sure you had the chance to win, but I never planned on making it out of that place.”

Steve did reach out then, and surprisingly Eddie took his hand, letting Steve pull him to his feet—and didn’t let go. Eddie wouldn’t look at him, but he allowed himself to be led out of the bathroom, up the stairs, and all the way to the guest room where he finally let go, laying down on the bed to face the wall. 

Steve hovered in the doorway, a little afraid to leave the other boy alone, but he had no idea what he was doing. He was in way over his head here. He needed to call Wayne. 

“I’m not sorry that I saved your life,” Steve said quietly to Eddie’s back. “I could never be sorry for that, but I am sorry that you’re hurting.”

-

By the time Steve made it to the bottom of the stairs again he was a wreck, crying and shaking so badly that he almost dropped the phone as he dialed the Munson’s number from memory. 

“Hello?”

The moment the call connected Steve’s legs gave out, and he slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor, thankful for the phone’s long cord.

“Wayne…” Steve sobbed out the older man’s name.

“What’s wrong? Is Eddie…?” Wayne’s panicked voice came loudly through the receiver.

Steve pressed the phone hard into his ear. “He’s here. H-he’s laying down in my guestroom.”

“What happened?” 

“It’s… he… I can’t—I can’t—I can’t even say it.” Steve hiccuped, and his voice caught, his throat gone painfully tight.

“Breathe, son. It’s gonna be alright, but you gotta breathe. Go on—in and out, on my count.”

It took a few tries but Steve did his best to follow the man’s directions, concentrating on the sound of his voice as he counted off to five. Taking air into his lungs slowly, holding it for a beat, and blowing it out just as slowly until he felt a little less like he was going to pass out.

“That’s real good, Steve. You drop your head between your knees?”

He did, nodding as though the other man could see him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

Wayne clicked his tongue. “Nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you can tell me what’s going on now?”

Again Steve nodded to no one but the floor and the empty room. 

“Eddie—he was drinking and I tried to get him to slow down, but he… he got so angry and then he said—” Steve cut himself off, unable to repeat the words, and skipped ahead to the worst of it. “He locked himself in the bathroom. I sent everyone else away, and I-I tried to talk to him, but… Wayne, he was in there, crying, holding that knife he carries.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Shit,” Wayne cursed softly. “I knew he was having a hard time, but I didn’t think…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, kid. I just don’t know what to do, how to help him. I’m supposed to go back to work tomorrow night, I can’t afford any more time off. We might not owe on the trailer but there’s still bills to pay. I was already nervous about leaving him alone, and now—I can’t lose him, Steve.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate to make the offer. He’d been fired from the video store for missing too many shifts anyway.

“What if he stayed here with me for a while?”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Wayne said.

“You didn’t, I’m offering. I’m not working right now, so I can be home with him all the time and maybe—I dunno, maybe I can get through to him.” 

There was a long pause before Wayne spoke again, where Steve was afraid the man would turn him down. "I know there’s things… stuff he can’t talk to me about, that he can talk to you about. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure, and I promise I won't let anything bad happen to him.”

“I know, son, you’re a good kid. Okay. Let me pack some of his things. I'll be there soon.”

Chapter 4

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 7 **

You might want to put aside some time for this, I somehow managed to write 10k...and the second half is like all smut, almost.

Took me a while to get this out, it was kinda meant to be a filler chapter but then I wanted to add more so I ended up moving things around in the story line so now we've got this one. Next chapter will see their relationship move forward with leaps and bounds and then we get into the really juicy bits!

Please enjoy and if you do, please reblog so that more people see the fic, I'll love you always if you do

If wanna catch up from the beginning, here is chapter 1 of The Pilot and his girl

Chapter 8

Tag list: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer

Sometimes you think back on other guys you’ve dated. The guy who wanted to be able to call you up whenever he wanted sex and always got mad when you weren’t around to supply, the college guy who never wanted to touch you in public, the older guy who ‘forgot’ to mention his wife and two year old son, the guy who cheated on you and then messaged all your friends and told them he’d dumped you because you’d cheated on him with his boss. And that didn’t even cover all the ‘normal’ guys who just wanted to play the game, date and have sex but never commit or say what they actually felt or introduce you to their friends or family. 

And then there was Frankie Morales. Sweet, loving, loyal Frankie who never seemed to hide what he was thinking or wanted to play games. Who never made it difficult or made you guess what he felt or what his intentions were. He was just always happy to be with you, to see you and to let the world around you know that he belonged to you and no one else. Who would kiss you in public just because he felt like it, took your hand as soon as you were near, and never hesitated to include you in his plans. Being with Frankie was easy and you finally started to understand that dating someone shouldn’t be non-stop drama, it should be easy and that’s how you knew it was right. 

And Frankie slipped into your life as easily as he let you slip into his. After your first few dates he made it clear that he would happily spend as much time as he could with you, the only other priority in his life being his daughter and you happily took a back seat to her. Frankie was always a bit low when he came back from seeing her, or she’d spent a weekend with him, his guilty conscience about not seeing her enough always on his mind. But he was also full of stories about her, his eyes beaming, a wide, proud, smile on his face, as he told you about what they’d done, the things she’d said and how much she’d grown or what new skills she’d learnt. She was the centre of his universe and you didn’t mind, she grounded him and made him happy and a better man. Both for her and for you. 

When Frankie wasn’t working or went to see Lucía, your weekends were spent mostly in each other’s company. He’d pick you up on Friday evening and take you out ‘properly’, as he said. He’d show up in his truck, freshly showered after work and in a clean shirt. If he’d ditched the cap you knew he’d made plans for a more upscale restaurant. If the cap was firmly pressed down over his, still very, unruly curls, you knew he was taking you on one of his special Frankie dates. 

The first time you’d expected maybe a cool food truck or local BBQ place when he said he’d made ‘special plans’, your expectations from previous guys were not exactly high. But instead he’d taken you to a secluded spot up on a hill, parking the truck and walking with you through the forest on a small path until the trees fell away to a cliff overlooking a lake. Stuck into the ground was a small sign that read “Reserved - Morales” that made you giggle at the thought that he’d hiked up here earlier, just to place the sign. Frankie had then produced a thick blanket from his backpack, a lantern, a camping stove, various containers and bottles and proceeded to cook you dinner while the sun set behind the forest on the other side of the lake. When dinner was done with, and you’d expressed your deep astonishment at how romantic he was, Frankie blushing to the tips of his ears, he’d wrapped you both in the blanket and leaned back against a rock with you tucked in against his chest. 

“You’re setting the bar very high for all the other guys, Francisco Morales,” you hum as you feel the cool tip of his nose brush against your cheek. 

“What other guys, hermosa?” he mutters, lightly kissing the tip of your ear. 

“All the other guys in general,” you lean into his warm lips skating along your neck, “once word gets out this is how Frankie Morales treats women, who’s gonna want a regular guy?” 

Frankie chuckles quietly, his rich, warm voice close to your ear. “I don’t treat women like this, only you, solo tu hermosa mujer.

“See, there you go again, setting the bar impossibly high,” you smile and push your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck, scratching his scalp and drawing a soft moan from him. 

When the night became too cold even for the blanket and the Frankie shaped furnace at your back, he’d held your hand as you walked back, his powerful torch shining the way through the pitch black forest. At any other time the thought of walking through a dark forest would’ve made you slightly panicky, but with Frankie’s warm hand in yours and his broad shoulders in front of you as he easily navigated the path back to his truck, you felt as safe as you did at home in your bed. 

It was easy, being with Frankie was the easiest thing of them all. 

…

You woke up with a groan on Sunday morning, six weeks or so into dating Frankie. You’d been out the night before with friends and now you were paying the price; dry mouth, headache and that horrible shaky feeling as you moved your limbs. You were definitely never, ever drinking again. You were in Frankie’s bed but he was absent so with a groan you pushed the covers aside and sat up carefully. 

As you sat on the side of the bed, contemplating death, you heard Frankie’s bare feet coming down the hall, pushing open the door. 

“Morning, my little ‘I’m not drunk’ girl,” he smiled, far too cheerful and you groaned again and fell back into bed, pulling the covers with you as Frankie chuckled. 

“Just stay in bed, hermosa, I’ll get you some water and coffee, and breakfast whenever you feel up for it.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble from under the covers. 

“Anything for you, I love you,” he says as he bends and kisses the covers over your head. 

Oh yeah, you said that last night too.

…

Towards the end of your night you’d met up with Frankie and his friends at a bar. Your friends  were heading home, and you probably should’ve done the same, but you wanted to see Frankie and you’d promised to call him before you went home. He was the designated driver for the evening, as most evenings. Frankie didn’t like tempting fate with too much alcohol after he got clean from the coke. 

“Mi hermosa, hi,” came his warm, smiling voice over the phone when he picked up, and you immediately heard someone shush loudly in the background. 

“Sssshhhhh, everyone, ssssshhhhh, it’s the girlfriend, sssshhhhh!” The drunken voice of Benny was easily recognisable in the background.  

“Hi Frankie boy,” you cooed, definitely a little bit more than tipsy, “and hi Benny,” you giggled. 

“Tell her to come here,” Benny’s voice was suddenly very close, “I need her as my wing woman!”

“Benny, for fuck’s sake!” It sounded like Frankie had to pull his phone away from his friend as he shuffled away from the table they were all at, chairs scraping across a floor. 

“Sounds like Benny’s a little bit drunk, baby,” you give him a tipsy giggled again. 

“Sounds like you’re a little bit drunk too, cariño,” Frankie chuckles. “Do you wanna come over, we’re at the usual place.” 

“Only if you want me to, I don’t want to crash boy’s night.”

“You should definitely come over, I wanna see you this drunk,” he laughs as you protest and claim to be only slightly tipsy. “Get yourself in an Uber, and send me the details so I know when you get here.” 

“Ok, Frankie boy, always so responsible,” you pout and give him a salute before you remember he can’t actually see you through the phone. 

“Just be safe, hermosa,” he smiles before he hangs up. 

He’s waiting outside for you when the Uber pulls up, opening the door of the car and giving you a hand as you step out. 

“Hi sweetie,” you purr, wrapping your arms around his neck, stumbling slightly on the curb, as Frankie catches you around the middle. 

“Hey there, not drunk girl,” he smiles down at you and accepts your wet kiss to his lips with a chuckle. “How’s your night been?” 

“S’been good, everybody came, even Hannah who always cancels because her kids are sick.” you say as Frankie guides you towards the door of the bar. “And we got free drinks from a bunch of guys who were trying to hit on us, but their loss, because we’re all taken,” You pull him close and place a kiss on his cheek, “You’re my Frankie boy.”  

“Did you accept their drinks?” Frankie’s got a worried look in his eyes that you don’t notice as you shrug your jacket off as the heat of the room hits you.” 

“Yeah, sure! It was free drinks. It’s not like they were gonna get anything in return.” 

“Cariño, you shouldn’t accept drinks from random men in bars, what if they slip something in it? You’ve got to be careful.” He’s got his arm around your waist, walking you towards the table where the guys are. 

“Wait,” you stop halfway across the bar, poking his chest with your finger, “you were gonna buy me a drink when we met, are you saying I shouldn’t have accepted that?” 

“Uh…I mean…” Frankie flounders, “technically, I guess, no?” 

“You’re so cute when you blush, sweet Francisco,” you gush, wrapping your arms around his neck again and standing on your toes to kiss the tip of his nose, “I know I shouldn’t accept drinks from random guys, baby. But free drinks!” you grin again and Frankie can’t help but chuckle when he sees your delighted grin. 

“My tipsy girl,” he smiles, “we should get some food in you.” 

“Nachos!” you exclaim as Frankie puts his hand on your back and ushers you towards the table and the guys again. 

Pope pulls you in for a bear hug as Frankie pulls out a chair for you, and Will gives you a grin from across the table. 

“Hey, there she is!” Benny whoops as you sink down on the chair, “My wing woman!” He attempts to high five you but you’re too focused on telling Frankie you want the biggest serving of nachos they’ve got, and Benny’s hand slaps down on your shoulder instead, making you jump. 

“Jeez, Benny, calm down,” Frankie scowls and knocks his hand off your shoulder. “I’m getting nachos for the drunk girl, anyone else want anything?” he asks. 

“Nachos and drinks, if you’re offering,” Pope says and Frankie nods, heading back towards the bar. 

“I’m really not drunk, just a little bit tipsy,” you tell the three guys as Frankie walks off. “He’s being very overprotective.” 

“I heard that,” Frankie calls from over his shoulder, making you giggle loudly and snort.

“Well, you’re in good company here,” Will nods at Benny who’s slightly red eyed appearance betrays that he’s by far the furthest one gone at the table. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Benny taps your arm excitedly, looking at a table towards the back of the bar, not paying attention to his brother, “Can you help me get that blonde over there? Like, walk over to her or something and tell her I’m great in bed and she should totally let me buy her a drink.” 

“What Benny?! No!” you protest, “I’m not lying to some poor woman, I don’t even know if you’re good in bed.” You give Benny a slightly unfocused once over, “Are you any good in bed?”  

“I’m totally good in bed!” he insists, “I’d prove it but you know…Fish would literally kill me dead.” 

“Ewww!” you exclaim, sending Pope and Will into a laughing fit as Benny blinks, trying to figure out if he should be insulted or not. “Sorry! That came out wrong!” you grab on to his arm, “I mean, you’re cute and all but just not my type, I like - “

“We know what you like,” Pope interrupts with a grin, “you like ‘em dark haired, brown eyed and tanned.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you snort out a laugh. 

“I mean, I can’t deny that, but I like my men taller and with less body hair, Santi,” you smirk and Pope tries to look insulted. 

“Ouch, going after my height, evil woman,” he huffs, but he’s still laughing. 

“You got the right one then,” Will chuckles, “Frankie’s got less body hair than a hairless cat.” 

“Why the fuck are you talking about my body hair?” Frankie says, coming back to the table, sending Benny and you into a laughing fit and Will just waving his hand. 

“Forget it man, not important.” 

Frankie raises his eyebrows and gives his head a slight shake as he sets down the nachos and drinks for the table, although you’re also getting a large glass of water. 

“Are you riling them up, cariño?” he asks, smiling down at you as you try to pull him down for a kiss that he willingly gives, your lips tasting of tequila and wine, oh, you’ll be hungover for sure in the morning. 

“I’m innocent,” you smirk, looking anything but and Frankie chuckles. 

“Move, baby, sit on my lap, there’s no extra chair.” 

You happily oblige, sitting sideways across Frankie’s lap, his warm arm around your waist, holding you tight. 

Nachos and beers are soon gone and Pope gets everyone a new round, getting Frankie a Coke that he tries to make you drink instead of the beer Pope got you, but not having much success. Benny’s trying his luck with the blonde across the room and Will and Pope decide to shoot some pool while you and Frankie watch from the table. Despite there being several empty chairs now you stay on Frankie’s lap, his legs are slowly falling asleep but he won’t make you move, he’s got you tight against his body, and your arm is draped across his shoulder, absentmindedly dragging your fingers through the curls around his neck at the edge of his cap. He hums contentedly as your nails scratch his scalp and you feel the rumble in his chest. Looking down you see his eyes slip closed, he always has trouble keeping them open when you play with his hair. He’s not asleep but his muscles relax and his head slumps forward, leaning against you. 

Gently you pull his cap off so that you can run your fingers through more of his hair, Frankie mutters his consent and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, warm through the thin fabric of your top. His soft curls slip under your fingers as you run them through his hair, the buzz of alcohol in your system making you sleepy, Frankie’s warm body making you feel safe and content. You bend down and press a kiss to the top of his head and with your lips still close to his hair it slips out.

“I love you.” 

Frankie’s eyes snap open and he pulls back from your chest, looking up at you, searching your eyes to see if you mean it or if you’re just too drunk. 

“What did you say, hermosa?” he asks softly as you look down at him, a small, uncertain smile on your lips. 

“I’m sorry…” you waver, “it just slipped out, it’s too soon and I’m drunk and it’s -” 

“I love you, I love you too,” Frankie interrupts, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest as he pulls your lips to his, “don’t be sorry,” he mumbles against your mouth, “I would’ve said it weeks ago if I had the guts.” 

His hand slips behind your neck, holding you to his lips, as you wrap your arms around him. His heart is racing, he can feel your smile against his mouth as you press yourself against him and it feels like millions of tiny bubbles are gathering inside his chest, pushing up through his throat and making him grin like a fool against your soft lips. The kiss turns sloppy as you both start to giggle, foreheads leaning together, you look into his warm, brown eyes that are crinkling at the corners. 

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, still smiling so wide you feel like your face is splitting but happy tears are threatening to spill out. The way Frankie is looking at you makes you feel like he just wrapped you up in a blanket, tucked you against his chest and enveloped you with his love, making you his axis point. 

“I love you too, hermosa,” he replies, “I love you so fucking much, I wanted to tell you when you took my hand after I told you about all the shit in my life, but I was scared it was too much. And when you still wanted to be with me and the first morning you woke up with me, you told me how amazing you think I am…” Frankie reaches up and strokes his thumb over your cheek, catching a tear that’s escaped from your eyes, “I almost said it then too, I really wanted to tell you then, but I chickened out..” 

“You should’ve said it all those times, Frankie,” you say, putting your hand over his, still on your cheek, “I would’ve said it back, but I thought it was too soon. I thought you’d run a mile if you knew how fast I fell for you.” 

“Not in a million years, hermosa, never.” He pulls you in, catching your lips in another kiss, slow and searing, making you part your lips so that he can taste you, despite all the alcohol. You feel his tongue, soft against your own, as he moves to kiss you deeper, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, holding you firm against him as you hold onto his shoulders, and push your fingers into his hair. You’re in your own bubble, only you and him, and the noises of the bar fades away as you hum against his mouth, the taste of him, his tongue, overtakes your hazy mind. 

…

You stay under the covers, you can hear Frankie moving around his kitchen, making coffee. You remember him taking the guys and you home last night. The truck had been full, the guys in the back and you tucked into Frankie’s side in the front, falling asleep against his shoulder as he dropped the others off first. You vaguely remember Frankie gently scooting you out of his truck and picking you up. You’d woken up when he had to put you down to dig out his keys, his soft voice telling you to stay awake as you leaned on him. Finally he’d gotten you both into his place and he’d tucked you in under the covers of his bed, the last thing you seem to remember is him taking your shoes off. 

Now he pads back into the bedroom with a bottle of water and a large coffee. 

“Here, cariño, drink the water first.” 

“Thanks, Frankie, you’re more than I deserve, I was way too drunk last night,” you moan, gratefully taking the water bottle from him. 

“You’re a very cute drunk,” he smiles and sits down on the edge of the bed as you pull yourself up, leaning against the headboard and taking a long drink of water. 

“And I love you too,” you say, putting down the water and taking his hand, “I remember that part at least.” 

Frankie chuckles and pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your palm, “I was a bit worried you’d said all those sweet things and then forget about it. 

“Never, Frankie,” you smile, “how could I? I just wish I hadn’t blurted it out when I was drunk...” 

“It was very sweet, hermosa, alcohol clearly makes you honest. I need to remember that,” he pulls you towards him with a big grin and you lean against his chest, breathing into his clean t-shirt, fresh cotton and the smell of just him underneath it. If you weren’t so hungover you’d pull him back into the bed with you, he feels good next to you, warm and solid, his little belly soft to the touch as you absentmindedly run your hand over it and listen to his heartbeat under your ear. Frankie’s hand is rubbing up and down your back and you can feel his breath against the top of your head where he's leaning his chin. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” he says after a little while of enjoying just sitting together in silence. The slight hesitation in his voice makes you lift your head and look up at him. He’s got that worried look in his eyes, and it makes you mirror his look, raising your eyebrows in concern as he goes on; 

“Lucía is supposed to come here next weekend, she’s staying Saturday and Sunday. And you can say no if you think it’s too much but, but I really want you to meet her, if you want?” 

“You know I’d love to meet her, Frankie” you say, sitting up so that you can look properly at him. His expressive eyebrows immediately shoot up in a relieved look. 

“I know, I just wanted to make sure,” he says, “I’ve…I’ve never…let her meet a girlfriend before and I wanna make sure you’re fine with it too.” 

“I’m absolutely fine with it, sweetie,” you rub his arm, wanting to reassure him that it really was fine. “If you want, we can start easy though, maybe? Just tell her I’m a friend of yours or something and we keep the PDA to a minimum around her?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking that too,” he agrees. “I haven’t talked to her mom yet either, it’s not like I need her permission for it or anything, but you know, just so that she hears it from me and not Lucía afterwards.” 

“I won’t stay over at your place when she’s here,” you stretch your arms up, yawning big and Frankie pushes the coffee mug into your hands with a smile. “We’ll just hang out a bit,” you say, “I don’t wanna intrude on your father - daughter time, I know you feel like you don’t see enough of her as it is.” 

“You could never intrude, cariño,” Frankie protests, “hang out with us as much as you want. Although, four year olds can be a bit rowdy so you might need to work on your stamina,” he chuckles. 

“I know how to handle four year olds,” you grin, “I just buy them the loudest toy I can find and be their new best friend.”

“That’s just evil, just pure evil,” Frankie groans, “every parent's worst nightmare, you would never.” 

“I would never do that to you, Frankie,” you smile and accept his hand as he pulls you out of the bed. “But my brother’s kids, absolutely.” 

“Remind me to never piss you off, cariño,” Frankie chuckles as you make your way into his small kitchen where he’s got breakfast laid out. 

Right from the start Frankie had claimed he couldn’t cook and his mom’s brownies was the only thing he could bake. You’d quickly figured out that the ‘can’t cook’ line was more a show of Frankie’s insecurity rather than an actual thing. And he excelled at breakfast, making both blueberry pancakes, omelettes and smoothies so good you’d rather have his breakfast for every meal of the day than anything else. The first time you had his pancakes, made from scratch and not a box mix, you’d eaten four in one go and not even felt bad about it. Frankie’s smile when you kept asking for more was worth the bloated feeling you had for the rest of the day. He admitted he’d taught himself to make them because they were Lucía’s favourite food and the thought of Frankie looking up pancake recipes online to be able to serve his daughter her favourite food made you almost teary eyed. The more you got to know him, the more you saw of his big heart and soft side, the more it became difficult to equate the man you now knew, with the man who had been in Delta Force and displayed such skill at violence in the bar that horrible night. 

There was one thing that betrayed his background though, his nightmares. Frankie said he had them less these days but there were still several nights where you’d been woken up by him thrashing around in the bed, crying out incoherently. A few times you’d been woken up by Frankie throwing himself on top of you when his sleep hazy mind thought there was a threat in the room and you had to be protected. Sweet on one level, but on those nights it took you both a long time to go back to sleep, Frankie’s adrenaline spiking high and your own heart rate going through the roof after being so brutally woken up. You were grateful that he seemed to need to hold you as close as possible on those nights, it made it easier for you to fall back asleep with his heavy arm draped across your waist or chest, pulled in so tight that you could hear his heartbeat, feel it slow down as he calmed. 

The next morning he’d wake up in a dark mood, feeling guilty about scaring you and bringing his issues into your life. You soon figured out that the best way to get him past his sullen thoughts was to pull him down on the sofa and make him lay back, resting against you. That way you could hook one arm around his broad chest, make him tip his head back on your shoulder and then scratch his scalp with your fingertips. His mind would stop racing, he would feel your heartbeat under his body and your fingers softly scraping through his curls, slowly realising that you weren’t leaving, that he wasn’t scaring you away by showing you the darker sides of himself. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’m such an idiot, it’s just me and my stupid brain causing trouble,” he mumbled while your fingers worked through his hair. 

“You’re not an idiot, Frankie,” you gently admonished him, “you know why your brain gives you nightmares, you’ve been through more than anyone should have to endure, “ you press a kiss to his head and he leans towards you. 

“My sponsor always says I should tell people close to me what’s going on when I start spiralling out of control, but that’s always been the hardest thing.” 

“Why is it hard?” you ask, still brushing through his soft curls, willing him to relax against you. 

Frankie shifts under your arm, turning so that he can press his face against the side of your neck, you feel him inhale deeply as he stretches his arm across your chest and pulls you closer. 

“It took me a long time to figure this out,” he says in a low voice, “I feel like I fail when I lose control, fail my family, my friends, anyone I wanna be close to.” His voice is muffled, pressed up against you as he hides his face, “I feel guilty about failing so I don’t ask for help and then it gets worse, I fall into to bad habits and that makes me feel like more of a failure and that makes me feel even more guilty and then it just spirals out of control.”

“What do you think will happen when you tell those you love about losing control?” you ask in a soft voice. You’re leaning your cheek against his head, feeling his breath fan across your neck and chest as he draws a deep breath. 

“That you’ll leave me, see what a fuck up I am and realise I’m not worth the effort.” You can barely hear his low whisper, it cracks at the end, and your heart clenches, your hands leaving his hair as you wrap your arms tight around him, burying your face against his soft curls. 

“Never, Frankie, never.” You squeeze him, willing him to understand how much he’s come to mean to you in this short time. “I don’t know what happens in the future but I can promise you that I’ll never leave you because I think you’re not worth the effort. And don’t say that about yourself, you’ll always be worth the effort, Frankie,” you lean back, putting your hand on his chin and tilting it up so that you can look at him, his eyes are distressed, the usually soft look, pained and tight. “I’ve already told you I think you’re the best man I’ve ever known and even if you spiral out of control and your demons get the better of you, I won’t leave because I know how good you are, what a great man you are and what a great father you are to Lucía.” 

Frankie closes his eyes as you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, a long breath escaping with a shudder, as if he’d been holding it in.

“I’m always scared I’ll fuck things up with her,” he says when you pull back from his lips. “How am I gonna be any kind of role model to her when this is what I’ve done with my own life?” 

“Frankie, you idiot,” you smile softly at him, and he looks confused. “You’ve had a passion for helicopters since you were a kid right?” He nods and you continue, “So you found a way to become a helicopter pilot, a very difficult profession that takes enormous dedication and skill. You then got sucked into the fucked up system of the military, and saw some horrible things. Things that any normal person would consider fucked up and have trouble processing, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess, bu- “ 

You stop him, “You didn’t get any adequate help to deal with your PTSD so you found a way to deal with it yourself. A stupid way, sure, but you had the willpower to get your shit together when it became about someone else but you, your daughter.” 

Frankie just nods, his eyebrows pulled up in that tight little knot you’ve seen so many times. 

“Don’t you get it?” you say, “you’ve already proved to her, before she was even born, that she’s the center of your universe and that you’ll do anything for her and that she can do anything she wants. All she has to do is to look at how you’ve managed to get through some of the most fucked up shit.” 

Frankie looks at you as you stroke the lines between his eyebrows with your thumb, smoothing them out. “Frankie Morales, you’re amazing, and if you keep thinking you’re not I’ll have to smack you,” you smile at him and you see the corners of his mouth twitch up, “or I’ll get Pope to smack you,” you say and Frankie smiles properly, his face changing into that soft smile you’ve always loved. He drops his head down on your chest again, his nose pressed against your throat. 

“I’d like to see him try,” he chuckles as he wraps his arm around you and pulls himself on top, looking down at you. 

“Thank you,” he says, using your real name as if to emphasize, “I don’t know what I did in my last life to deserve you in this one.” 

“Maybe you saved my life somehow,” you smile and stroke your thumb over the bare patch in his scruffy beard, “and now you get to have incredible sex with me as a reward.” 

“Yeah?” he smirks, pulling up one corner of his mouth, “Maybe I wanna claim some of that reward right now.”

…

On Friday night, before Lucía’s coming to stay, Frankie picks you up for your date wearing no cap, but a white dress shirt with his dark jeans. You open the door and do a double take, holding out one hand in front of you to stop him, as you shamelessly admire the view. 

“Damn, Frankie…” you purr, letting your eyes travel down from the v of the open neck, the smattering of freckles dark against his tanned skin and white cotton, the wide shoulders that stretch the fabric when he crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame with a smile, his forearms on display where he’s rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, and all the way down over his slim hips and lean thighs under the black denim. 

“Are you taking me out to dinner, or are you delivering yourself for dinner?” you ask, giving him a wicked smile as you hook your finger into his shirt and pull him closer. Frankie chuckles and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Maybe I’m here to make a meal out of you…”

“Cheesy,” you giggled into his mouth, “but I’ll definitely remind yo-” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, pushing his hand into your hair and sealing his lips to yours, licking against your bottom lip before he gently sucks on it. A jolt of electricity immediately shoots down your spine and settles between your legs, the sheer promise of what he could deliver had you trembling. A moan escapes you as he pushes you against the wall and lets his thigh spread your legs, the friction shoots another jolt through your body and Frankie knows exactly what he’s doing. You can feel him move his thigh, the thick muscles giving just a taste of what his fingers would do later, and with a crooked smile he pulls back, both from your lips and your legs. 

“Frankie…” you moan, chasing his lips, but he chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you towards the door. 

“Let's get actual dinner before I make a meal out of you, my greedy little girl.” 

With a pout you follow him out the door but when he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck in the elevator on the way down you melt, you were never really upset. “Who says I’ll keep my hands off you, hermosa,” he murmurs, “the restaurant is really dimly lit.” 

…

The place Frankie has picked is a new place you’d mentioned a while back and you squeeze his arm tightly when you realise that he’s made a reservation especially because he knew you wanted to go. He’s even requested a table at the back where the restaurant has a few tables in small window nooks overlooking the river. The waiter seats you and lights the two candles in the windows and in the small hanging chandelier over your heads, casting the whole table in a soft light. 

You sit down in the middle of the plush bench that curves under the windows, and Frankie sits down close to you, rather than opposite. You’re sharing a corner at the table, and even though there’d be more room if you sat at opposite ends, none of you are moving, least of all Frankie. Instead you feel his hand on your leg, slipping up under the edge of your dress, as soon as he sits down. His hand is hidden under the table cloth and although he lets his hand rest on your thigh for now, you’re fairly certain he won’t let it stay there.

The waiter returns to take your orders and while you’re asking about the fish dish Frankie’s fingers start moving, gentle little circles on your thigh but steadily moving up along your leg. You steal yourself to not let his touch get to you while you talk to the waiter, sitting perfectly still in your seat as you ask about the evening’s special. You can feel his fingers creep further up your leg, starting to tickle the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. From the corner of your eye you can see Frankie innocently studying the menu but you can also see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As the waiter finishes with your order he turns to Frankie and as soon as the waiter’s eyes are off you, Frankie squeezes the inside of your thigh. Not hard, but enough to make your limbs clench together as you shudder from the jolt of heat that shoots through you, settling between your legs. Your involuntary spasm makes the waiter look at you again and you pretend to reach for the breadbasket as Frankie struggles to keep a straight face.

As soon as the waiter leaves Frankie turns to you with a mischievous grin and moves his hand further up your thigh. 

“Hermosa,” he purrs as you try to scowl at him, “your skin is so soft and grabbable right here.” He kneads the plush flesh of your inner thigh as you try to ignore the way it feels as he sinks his fingers into you. 

“You’re a menace, Francisco Morales,” you glare and he leans in on the table, propping his chin up with his free hand, so that his mouth is only inches from your lips. He continues to draw shapes on your skin as he looks at you, his face softening into an innocent look, big brown eyes looking at you like he’s only adoring his girlfriend, not slowly moving his hand up to brush the edge of your panties under the table.

“Why would you say that, cariño?” he asks, smiling as you clench your jaw when his finger tips nudges at your legs, beckoning you to spread them, and you obey without hesitation. “Am I distracting you from the nice view?” You scowl at him again but you can’t hide your smile and Frankie closes the last bit of distance between you and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, letting it brush along your cheek as he captures your lips with his. 

The kiss is soft and demure, anyone looking will only see a couple in love sharing a tender kiss, a sweet moment together. Frankie’s free hand takes your hand on the table and your fingers entwine, but under the table his fingertips are slowly brushing over the thin lace in your panties, feeling the dampness his touch is creating. He traces the slit under the fabric and grazes over your clit, making you quake against his lips, and you feel his mouth pull up in a smile. His tongue quickly darts between your lips as the pad of his thumb rubs with more pressure against the spot, pulling a soft moan from you as you lean into him. With a chuckle Frankie pulls away, moving his hand down your leg, and when you open your eyes to protest you see the waiter walking over with your drinks.

“I’m gonna get you back for this, you know,” you mumble and Frankie gives you a look of perfect innocence as he thanks the waiter for the drinks. When he leaves Frankie takes a sip from his beer and over the brim of his glass his eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile. 

“I think I’d like that, cariño, why don’t you try right now?” 

“No, I think I’ll pick a moment you’ll enjoy less,” you smile back at him, taking a sip of your own drink. 

Frankie leans forward, his hand falling below the table again and you quickly cross your legs as his hand touches your knee. 

“Ah, c’mon, cariño,” he coos, caressing the top of your thigh, edging under the hem of your dress again. 

“Keep your hands on the table, Francisco,” you give him a stern look that only makes him grin and scoot closer, leaning in so that he can skate his nose along your jaw, his lips brushing up against your ear, his hot breath tickling you. 

“Mi hermosa,” he mumbles, his lips barely touching your skin, “I want to touch you, feel if you’re as wet as I think you are.” He moves his mouth down and you feel the tip of his tongue slip out and lick across the spot he knows makes you shiver whenever he touches it. “I wanna to feel your sweet pussy tighten around my fingers as you think about what I’m gonna do with my mouth later.” 

His words make your eyes close as a shiver goes down your spine, heat pooling rapidly between your legs. And Frankie knows, he knows exactly what his dirty talk does to you. And now he continues to whisper how he wants to push your dress up over your hips, spread you before him and taste your sweet pussy, all the while his hand gently nudges your legs apart under the table. You feel heat rising in your cheeks as his fingers brush up over the soaked material in your panties. He’s telling you how good he knows you taste, how he loves the feeling of your pussy clenching around his tongue as he pushes into your tight hole. 

“I know you love how my nose rubs against your clit when I bury my face between your legs, hermosa,” he murmurs and you bite your lip to stop a moan escaping. Outwardly he’s still just whispering sweet nothings to you, a loving boyfriend nuzzled against the neck of his love, under the table his fingers have slipped past your panties and are pushing into your pussy, his thick index and ring finger stretching you. You lean forward on your elbows, tilting your head towards him, hiding your face from the room. Frankie’s teeth scrape against your skin as he curls his fingers back inside you, rubbing against the spot he always seems to find so easily. The thrill of him fingering you in public has your cheeks burning, your jaw is clenched tight to stop yourself from panting. Tension is building inside you as Frankie’s breath fans over your skin. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers, “I wish I could get down on my knees and lick you, tug that sweet little clit of yours into my mouth, make you come on my face just like I did - “

Frankie suddenly pulls back, footsteps approaching your table, his fingers slipping out of you as he sits up. 

“Alright, I’ve got the grilled tuna for the lady and the lamb racks for the gentleman,” the waiter says, placing plates on the table. 

You’ve still got your face turned away, cheeks burning as you calm your breathing. Frankie’s hand comes up and genty cups your chin, a soft smile on his face, as if you say he’s got you, and not at all sorry that he’s got you on the edge of an orgasm in the middle of a crowded Friday night restaurant. 

…

You barely make it to the truck once you're done with the meal. The thrum of your near orgasm is still humming through your body and Frankie’s warm arm around your waist, holding you close, makes you want to duck into an alley and risk getting caught for public indecency. You stop him and cup his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss, letting your tongue slip between his lips as his large hand cups the back of your head. You feel his other hand sliding up your back, pressing you against his chest and you lick into his mouth, tasting him and the chocolate he had for dessert. Heat shoots through your body as he presses his hard on into you, he’s trying to create friction to give himself some relief but the way your body reacts, a low moan slipping out, only makes him harder. With a groan he pulls away, grabbing your hand and almost drags you the last bit to the truck. 

It’s parked on a side street and you pull him against you again when he takes you around to the passenger side. Slipping your hand in between you, you palm his cock through his jeans, Frankie grumbles, dropping his head on your shoulder and letting his mouth kiss your neck.

“I need to get you home, hermosa,” he murmurs, his face buried in your hair. “I wanna get you out of this dress so badly.”

 Letting your fingers trace the outlines through the fabric, you circle around the tip pressed against the zipper and Frankie’s breath hitches, his teeth sinking into your neck, sucking against the skin. Behind your back he opens the door to the truck and manoeuvres you so that he’s got his arms at your waist. With casual strength that takes your breath away he lifts you up, setting you down on the bench seat, and for a second you think he’s going to climb up after you. Instead he stops, one foot up on the step, his gaze dropping to where your knees fall open, he’s got a perfect view and his eyes go dark. His hand grabs your thighs, pushing you further into the truck and pushing them wider, the tip of his tongue comes out and licks his bottom lip, before he tears himself away, looking up at you again and inhales deeply as he steps down and closes the door. 

You can’t help but giggle at the effect you had on him and he notices your smile when he pulls himself into the driver’s seat. 

“What are you giggling about, cariño?” he says, buckling in and starting up the truck. His hard cock is straining against his jeans, and you scoot closer to him, cupping your hand around it. 

“Nothing,” you say, “nothing at all, sweetie,” but you smile when you see his jaw clench as soon as your palm presses against his cock and his voice is strained when he replies.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna have to park the truck somewhere dark before we get back to my place.” 

“Would you like that, Frankie?” you ask in a low voice, leaning in so that your breath tickles his neck and you see goosebumps break out on his skin.

“If you’re asking if I wanna fuck you in my truck, then, fuck yes. But let's save that for a date where I can do it properly, and not in the corner of some Costco parking lot.” His voice is a dark rumble as he looks over at you, pausing the truck at a stop sign. His unruly curls are creating a halo lit by the street light behind him and it reminds you of the first time you were in his truck. Him driving to the airfield with you and you’re struck by how much has happened since that first day with Frankie. 

“Remember when we were first in your truck together?” you ask, mirroring the gesture you did then, lifting your hand to push it through the soft curls on his head. 

“I do, vividly,” he smiles, leaning into your hand, “I told you to do that again when we weren’t in any vehicles I would crash.” 

“You also said you wanted to kiss me.” 

“I did, and I wanted to kiss you right then, but it took like three more tries before I got my chance.” Frankie chuckles as he puts the truck in drive again. He lifts his arm so that he can put it around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you take your hand from his cock, not wishing to cause any accidents, resting it on his thigh instead. 

“Put your hand back there as soon as we’re inside the apartment, please,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, making you giggle and squeeze his thigh. Your sexual energy is still thrumming in your nerves but they simmer lower as you lean against Frankie, feeling a different kind of energy in your system. 

This man makes you feel safe, comfortable and wanted. You drop your head against his shoulder, relishing in the way his sheer presence wraps you up in a cocoon of happy content, as if his solid, calm energy makes your body relax and sink into him. Frankie’s own self doubts and nerves never seemed to seep out of him, he pulled them into himself, you could see in his eyes when he was pulled under by his negative thoughts, but the energy he gave to you was always solid, like a rock holding you steady. 

“You’re my rock, Frankie,” you say, as you wrap your arm across his waist, hugging him tightly. 

“Your rock, cariño?” he smiles, dropping his eyes from the road for a second to look at you. 

“You’re solid like a rock, making me feel calm when I’m with you, like you can handle whatever happens and keep me safe.” 

“I don’t know how much of a rock I am, I’ve struggled with keeping myself steady for most of my life,” he says, his voice a little doleful. 

“I know, but somehow you still manage to make me feel like you’re the most stable person in the world.” 

“You mean boring,” Frankie snorts, “should I be insulted?” 

You slap him playfully and shake your head, “Anything but boring, Frankie, just…you make me feel calm, and relaxed, when I’m with you. And happy. Very, very happy.” 

You feel him tighten his arm around your shoulders, “Mi amor,” he mumbles, his lips pressed to your hair as he keeps one eye on the road, “you make me very, very happy too.”

…

The mood changes as you get to Frankie’s apartment, riding up the elevator he nods up at the security camera in the corner and you resort to snuggling into him, keeping everything PG. But the second he’s got you over the threshold he cages you in between his arms against the door, his long body pressed up against yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck as his mouth finds yours. 

“Longest fucking dinner of my life,” he murmurs against you, his hips are flush against your belly and the hard line of his cock twitches between you. “Would’ve pulled you out of there and actually fucked you in my truck if I hadn’t waited three weeks for that reservation.” 

“You’re such a romantic, Frankie,” you smile, grabbing hold of his curls and pulling him back a little so that you can see his dark eyes, his eyelids half closed and a greedy look on his face. 

“Put your hand back on my dick, please, hermosa,” he husks, rolling his hips so that you can feel his cock more firmly. Keeping a hold on his hair so that you can look at him you snake your other hand between you and cup it over the hard bulge in his jeans, stroking it firmly with your eyes locked on his. His lips curl up almost as if he’s in pain and a dark groan slips out between his parted lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his pupils are wide and half hidden under his eyelids. You repeat the motion, adding your nails, rasping them over the bulge and Frankie’s head falls back. 

“Fuuuuck….” he moans, louder this time, “fucking feels so good but I’m about to break the zipper, cariño,” he pants. 

You tug at his hair, “Eyes on me, Francisco.” The use of his full name snaps him back as you palm him again, using your nails, and the look in his eyes sparks something inside you. Leaning in, close to his ear, you nip lightly at his earlobe, pulling a soft gasp from him. 

“Frankie,” you whisper, “do you like it when I tell you what to do?” The groan from deep in his chest is answer enough, and when you lean back, looking at him again, his jaw is clenched and he’s got a strained look on his face. 

“Tell me what to do, hermosa,” he grates out, his hips still against your palm cupped over his aching cock. His eyebrows are tightly knitted, his dark eyes fixed on your as he swallows hard, but he doesn’t move. 

You smile, the thought of having Frankie obeying your orders turns you on more than you thought it would. He’s always in control when you have sex, apart from the last few minutes when he loses himself, pumping into you as he chases his orgasm, he’s always in control. He always makes sure you come once or twice before he thinks about himself, he’s always thinking about how to give you as much pleasure as possible and seems to get as much out of it as you do. But he’s always called the shots, until now. 

“Frankie…” you purr, pulling your hand up from his dick to stroke your fingertips over his patchy beard, “this is new, I can call the shots tonight?” 

“Yes, baby, tell me what you want me to do,” his face is less strained now that your hand isn’t caressing his aching cock but his tone is still a dark groan

“Take me to your bedroom, Frankie,” you say, testing the waters, although this is hardly a difficult one. 

With a swift motion he bends and puts his arm behind your knees, the other at your back, picking you up as your arms wrap around his neck for purchase and he walks through the dimly lit apartment.  

“With the risk of sounding like a cavewoman,” you giggle, “your strength always turns me on, I forget how strong you are until you pick me up like I weigh nothing.”

“Maybe I should pick you up more often,” Frankie grins, pushing open the door to his bedroom. “Tell me, what do you want me to do with you now?” 

“Put me down,” you say and he gently sets you down on your feet and you sit down on the edge of the bed, giving him a mischievous smile. 

“Take your clothes off for me, Frankie.” 

He grins and starts rolling down the sleeves of his white shirt before unbuttoning it, revealing more tanned skin as he moves down. 

“The thing is,” you say, your eyes shamelessly watching him slide the shirt off his wide shoulders, “you’re always in control when we have sex. Making sure I come first, making me come several times before you even let me touch you.” Frankie gives you a proud smirk while his hands undo his belt and slides it out, dropping it on the floor next to the shirt. “And tonight, I wanna do the same to you.” You watch as his hands still, his zipper halfway down. 

“Don’t stop, Francisco,” you tell him. “You take your pants off at the last moment, when you’ve already got me spread out on the bed, coming down from you eating my pussy. I wanna watch you properly this time.” At the mention of him eating you out he narrows his eyes and you see the pink tip of his tongue peek out between his lips, his eyes dropping to the hem of your dress. 

“Maybe later, Frankie, if you’re a good boy,” you smile and his eyes find yours, the greedy look in them almost makes you want to drop your game and let him take control again. But instead you watch him push his jeans down over his narrow hips, catching his socks at the same time as he steps out of them. He stands up, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his snug black boxers, looking at you with his head tilted to the side and a crooked grin. 

“Want me to keep going?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

You bite your lip, it’s hard to keep a straight face when he’s looking so good standing in front of you and he knows you’re cracking. “I didn’t tell you to stop, Francisco,” you manage to press out. 

The boxers are stretched over his rigid cock, doing nothing to hide the sheer size of him or how aroused he is. When you first had sex with him he was a bit self conscious, both about his body and the size of dick. Any qualms about this size you’d dispelled the first time, he knew you loved how he filled you up and you let him know it, loudly. His hang ups about his flat butt and soft belly were harder to dispel, but now he’s standing in front of you without any nerves, confidence oozing from him as he drags his boxers down his hips. He keeps his eyes on you as they slide over his cock, making it jump out as the elastic pulls over the tip. You’re flitting your eyes between his boxers and his face, your tongue peaking out without you noticing, licking your lips as he drops the boxers and strokes himself a few times with languid passes. 

“Lie down on the bed, Frankie,” you order him, standing up so that he can stretch out and lie back. He puts his hands out for you, trying to pull you down on top of him but you smile and slip away from his hands. 

“Patience, Frankie boy,” you purr and swat his hand away from your leg as he grins. 

You’ve still got your dress on and you see his cocky smile fade away as you give him the same view you just got. You’re wearing the black wrap around dress he loves and as his dark eyes watches, you untie it at the waist and let it fall open, pulling the ribbon out of the dress. 

“Hermosa,” Frankie moans, “you’re so beautiful, come here, let me touch you, please.” 

Shrugging it off your shoulders you step back up on the bed and straddle Frankie’s thighs, his hard cock jutting up towards his stomach just in front of you. 

“Not yet, my sweet Frankie,” you coo, “I know you want to taste me, make me come with your face buried in my pussy, but not yet.” 

Frankie’s jaw clenches and you can see his hands grabbing hold of the covers as you sit down. He’s desperate to touch but determined to let you guide him this time. The black lace panties and bra you’re wearing aren’t helping, it’s his favourite set. You’d asked for his advice when you bought it a few weeks ago and his cock had twitched when he thought about seeing you in it, wrapped like a present for him. Now you’re hovering above his erection, wearing that set, leaning down over him as your hand closes around the base. 

“Cariño,” he grumbles with a shiver as your breath ghosts over the head of his cock, it’s already weeping, drops of precum collecting at the slit. “Please…” 

“Please what, Frankie?” you smile, leaning closer to the tip, sticking out your tongue, keeping your eyes on him. His eyes are black, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at where the tip of your tongue traces the slit of his cock. When you make contact he moans, his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Please, hermosa,” he pants, and you lick your tongue over the head, collecting the salty liquid as he groans and bucks his hips again. Your mouth sinks over him and he’s fisting the covers, fighting the urge to grab on to your head, instead he watches as his aching cock disappears between your lips. He can feel the head gliding along the inside of your mouth as you take him deeper, your tongue licking along the length, teasing along the swollen ridges and veins that thrum with heat. Saliva drips from your mouth, down over his cock and you use it to slide your hand up and down him, easing the friction over the part that’s not in your mouth. 

Heat is building fast in his belly, your mouth is a hot vise around his cock, taking more and more down your throat as he gasps and groans, screwing up his eyes when he can’t watch, when he gets too close to coming. He’s rambling as he shivers underneath you, praising your mouth, your tongue, your hands. When your nose brushes against the wiry curls at the base of his cock, the head bumping the back of your throat, he cries out, begging you for release. 

“Please, you’re so good to me, let me…oh fuck you feel good,” he stutters, his voice catching as you close your mouth around him, dragging your lips along his length as you increase the pressure.

“Fuck…your mouth…hermosa, your mouth, make me come, let me come in you.” He opens his eyes again, looking down at you as you sink your mouth down over him again, you can taste his precum on your tongue, more of it leaking out. 

His hips are jerking up, he’s breathing fast as he whimpers and you lift your eyes to him, meeting his gaze. Seeing him like this, his mouth hanging open as he whines, looking wrecked, he screws his face up as if he’s in pain, makes you shudder, your panties are soaked, every one of his moans and whines going straight to your core. 

You sink down deeper over him, your tongue licking every inch of him as you take as much as you can, letting his cock brush against the back of your throat again as you move your mouth up and down his length, stroking the slick base with your hand coated in his precum and your saliva. 

Frankie lets out a broken growl, “fuck, cariño, ple…please…I’m gon - “ his stuttering turns into shout as you feel the first burst of thick liquid coat your tongue, he’s jerking his hips, his hands fly from the sheets and tangle in your hair as he pumps himself upwards, your mouth closing tight around his pulsating cock, milking his spend as it shoots out of him. Frankie’s whole body tenses up, his back arching off the bed, the corded tendons on his neck stretch and tremble when he throws his head back, a cry as if he’s in pain tearing itself from his throat. 

You continue to stroke him through his climax, looking up at him, seeing his throat strain as he pants, groaning through his high. His thrusts grow slower and you let your mouth drag along him, softening your lips as you let him pump the last of himself over your tongue, ending with a small kiss on the tip of his sensitive head. He relaxes and looks down at you again, seeing your mouth come off him and you wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. 

“Help, I can’t move,” he groans softly and you smile at him as you crawl up his body and lie down in his arms. 

“I liked that,” you say, wrapping an arm over his chest as he pulls you in close. “I see why you like eating my pussy first, it’s a rush to have that power.” 

“Don’t get used to it, cariño,” Frankie smiles, “I’m not giving it up so easily.” 

“I’ll get Benny to teach me how to bark orders like in the military, you seem to like me bossing you around.” 

“Only because I let you,” he pokes his finger into your side, “I wanted to see if you had it in you.” 

“Bullshit!” you splutter and almost sit up, but Frankie’s arm tightens around you and pulls you back down. “The second I used your full name you caved.” 

“I hated hearing my full name in the army, it meant I was in trouble. But when you say it, cariño lindo…I melt.” 

“I know, Francisco Morales,” your giggle turns into a squeal when he suddenly grabs your arms and flips you over. 

“Ahora, mi hermosa,” he murmurs as he sinks his mouth to your neck, “now it’s your turn.”

Chapter 8

[bullet-prooflove]

Could you write a crossover story featuring Beau/Ally and Harm/Savanna?

Tagging: @kmc1989 @keyweegirlie @snowlover250 @kenbechillin @@too-strong-to-lose @buckysteveloki-me @sca3a @flopiboni @secretsquirrelinc @@sportslovers-world @burningpeachpuppy @mandy426 @@al-lethan @thiashazzywriting @justameresimp @agentorange9595 @lxaah11 @librarian1002 @imaginecrushes @flrboyd @areamir @b-bradshaw @adaydreamaway08 @crimeshowjunkie @inkandarsenic @caffeinatedwoman @tortilla-maria1 @lemmons1998 @dr-alan-grantler @penguin876 @deliriousfangirl61 @goosterroose @kishie8 @skyesthebomb @marshmallowflufffox @whateversomethingbruh @4everademigod @notanotherpotter @yousigned-upforthis @silversprings-mp3

Ladies and gents we got ourselves a crossover! Refs to both Ally's career in JAG and Beau being a flyboy.

It’s in a park by The Naval Yard that Mac first sees Harm again. It’s been nine years since she last laid eyes on him and he still looks as handsome as the day he packed his bag and walked out the door.  He’s standing alongside the coffee kiosk, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark overcoat as he surveys the menu board fixed the outer wall.

She doesn’t expect to see him back in Washington DC, the last she heard he was seeing a girl down in New Orleans, spending all his shore leave celebrating Jazzfest and Madri Grais. That man, she’d thought at the time, he’ll never grow up.  

She hasn’t had a single successful relationship since she left Harmon Rabb and she blames him for that. She blames him for a lot of things. The two of them had made a pact when they’d flipped that coin, he was supposed to stay out of the service, live life as a civilian in San Diego. They’d get married, have a couple of kids.

It had worked for a while but then he’d run into Ally again and it had all started to fall apart. The Admiral's Wife, Mac calls her, because she’d married Beau Simpson a decade ago, the rear admiral in charge of the Top Gun program.

Harm had been her mentor when she was coming up through JAG. He’s walked her down the aisle when she had married Beau at sunset in Cape Rey. Mac remembers she’d been a ferocious little thing, tenacious and fierce in the face of adversity. She packed a hell of a punch in the court room. Mac should know, she’d run up against her a couple of times since taking the promotion in San Diego.

“She’s as good as you.” Mac had told Harm over dinner one night. “And just as infuriating.”

“No.” Harm had responded, sipping from his beer bottle. “She’s better.”

It was Ally that had urged Harm to rejoin the Navy, her and Beau. Mac couldn’t see how unhappy he was at the time, she hadn’t understood it, not really. She remembers the day he’d come home from the airfield, eyes bright with exhilaration. He’d been out flying again with Beau, the two of them were like boys with toys once they got up in the sky. Testing boundaries, playing wargames, showing off. He always ended up at their home afterwards, talking cases over dinner with Ally or swapping war stories with Beau. He would come home with a smile on his face, smelling of cigar smoke, tasting of whiskey.

“I’m re-enlisting.” He’s told her that night after he stepped out of the shower. “It’s a different commission from JAG, it won’t mess up our agreement.”

He was wrong, it had been the end of everything. The posting that Beau had offered him meant he was away on aircraft carriers for six months out of the year, flying jets and sailing ships, the two things he loved most in the world.

Mac had hated him for that, she hated Beau and Ally for giving him that option because now she was the one left behind. The lonely one, the sad one.

It had lasted one deployment.

By the time the next one came up, it was over.   

It was a way of punishing him at the time, she’d expected him to resign his commission, come back with his tail between his legs, but he hadn’t. He’d packed a bag instead and gone to stay with Ally and Beau before shipping out to the USS Allegiance, she hadn’t seen him since. She’d heard stories over the years from mutual friends, places he’d been, women he was seeing. He’d become the Harm she used to know, the one without ties or commitments.

She had always believed they would find their way back to each other. Nine years and thousands of miles later, it’s finally happening on a rainy day in Washington DC.

She doesn’t realise how wrong she is, not until she sees you. You’re hurrying towards him, gesturing with your hands, your voice full of apology. He smiles then, and it’s that smile that completely obliterates her. She’s never seen him smile like that, not in all the years she’s known him.

You’re nothing special, not really. She’d call you pretty as opposed to beautiful, a step down from the women he usually covets. You aren’t military, she can tell from your walk, but you carry, she can see it in the way your coat drapes. Law enforcement then, she assumes. Most likely NCIS.

Strong women, she recalls. That’s what Harm’s attracted to, strong capable women.

It’s when he kisses you, she knows that it’s real. When he cradles your face between his large hands, there’s such tenderness in his expression. He looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world and her heart just breaks. He’s loved before, she realises in that moment but he’s never been in love, not until you.

Her eyes start to sting because for all these years she’s clung to this hope, this stupid ridiculous dream that the two of them were meant for each other. She’d imagined that they’d bump into one another, their eyes would lock and it would be like it was back then. Nights filled with fire and passion, their days adventure and laughter.

That life, it isn’t a reality anymore.

It’s clear that Harm’s moved on and it’s time that Mac does too.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[breakerwhiskey]

233 - TWO HUNDRED THIRTY THREE

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Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

I just realized—I never even finished my story the other day. I got distracted telling you about that other fight, the one we had when I came in from the cold.

After she said that, about our future, I stormed off. Obviously. I couldn’t stand there and look at her after I’d revealed so much in one simple sentence and been completely rejected so I took a shower and ignored her for the rest of the day. Then, that night, I was sitting by the fire, and I remembered, I was reading—god knows what, I don’t think I was paying attention to a single sentence, I think I just wanted something that would make it look like I wasn’t just sitting and moping—and I fell asleep.

And when I woke up—well, I was woken up. I felt something, on my face, a warm brush of something and I opened my eyes and Harry was there, pushing my hair off my forehead. And she’s bookmarked my place in the book too, closed it and put it on the coffee table and then she’d…

She jerked back the moment I opened my eyes. But there was no mistaking what she’d been doing. And I just…lost it. That’s what broke me. That she’d show me affection only when I wasn’t awake to see it.

I never expected—never planned to ask her outright. But I did. I just asked her what she felt for me. What she wanted from me. And she—she fucking refused to answer. Fifty seconds earlier she’d had her fingertips tenderly stroking my hair and she couldn’t answer a simple fucking question. So I told her my answer.

I told her—I told her I’d been in love with her since the first time I saw her laugh. That I’d respected her first, stood in awe of her art knowledge, her talent, her expert way of handling beautiful things. I’d watch her hands when we were packing up the goods and thought I’d never seen someone treat something with such care and make it look like art unto itself. Like some kind of meditative practice. Like something holy.

And then, the moment it left my mouth, I told her that was actually a lie—that I’d really been attracted to her first, and then came the respect. And that I’d bounced between those two feelings and complete irritation for months and months and then I saw her crack up at a dumb joke and it was like an air raid siren went off in my head. I immediately knew I was in the kind of trouble I wasn’t going to get out of.

And the whole time—the whole time I’m telling her this, she’s just backing away and shaking her head like she doesn’t want to hear it. Like I’m being cruel to her in saying it. And I say that I thought that maybe, maybe, she felt the same way but clearly I was wrong. And that it’s been long enough, and the house is…in shape enough and that she’s got enough supplies and know-how that she’ll be fine, probably, and now she’s looking at me like I’m crazy because she doesn’t understand yet what I’m saying.

So I tell her outright—I have to go. I have to leave, have to see what’s out there, who’s out there, because staying here now that I know we have no future is torture and that’s when she shouts at me. That she’s the one who’s been agonized all this time. That she’s wanted me for so long, but she never had the courage to do anything before and that she couldn’t now because it would all be a lie. That she couldn’t let me think she loved me when I didn’t know that she’d betrayed me.

Well, she didn’t say exactly that. I was the only one who used…that particular word in the conversation. Not betrayed, the—the other one. I’d never used that word for anyone before, not since my parents, and never in that kind of context. And she couldn't even…

It didn’t matter. Once she started telling me what she meant—started telling me the truth, the full truth…it was worse than any rejection would have been. She tried to explain it away, tried to say that she was trying to protect me, that she wanted to get us both out of a bad situation but all I heard was that she’d betrayed me and then lied about it. All I heard was that she, like always, thought she knew what was best and removed my own wants and needs and fucking free will from the equation entirely.

And then she begged me not to go. She begged me to let her make things right and I…I couldn’t look at her like that, after all that, and walk away. So I didn’t. I stayed and I—

I stayed and I punished her. I didn’t speak to her, didn’t let her try to apologize, I barely stayed in a room if she walked in. And then even that got to be too much to bear.

So I did the thing she was most afraid of, and I left.

[click, static]

[crybabylulu]

Makeup

Lin Beifong x fem reader

This was a request I got! Fem reader dresses Lin up and does her makeup all girly. I’m still working on the kuvira vs Lin one I’m trying to figure out what to do I kinda know what I want to do it’s probably gonna be a quick mini series but don’t think I forgot I’ve literally been moving 😭 well I’m moved into my house now but now I gotta put shit away and I’m trying to figure out where to put stuff and blah blah it’s a fucking mess anyways! On to the story!

I was looking around for Lin but I couldn’t find her till I heard groaning coming from a room. I sighed. I already knew what she was doing. I opened the door and saw Lin working out. “Linny really?” I asked and placed my hands on my hips. She was in her tank top lifting weights. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t turned on but now is not the time! Lin sighed and put the weights down. I walked over to her and poked her chest. “We have to get ready. Now let’s get you in the shower.” I said then turned away from her and walked towards the door. I heard Lin coming behind me mumbling a bunch of incoherent nonsense to me. She’s being a baby. She promised Su she’d dress up for this party but not the way Lin normally does. No suit and tie for her and again I’d be lying if I said seeing Lin in a suit and tie didn’t do anything to me. Drove me up a wall. Lin has to wear a dress and makeup! I was tasked with finding her dress and makeup. Su was gonna do her hair.

We got to the room and Lin was still folding her arms. “Linny you promised Su.” I told her. “I know, I know. Let’s get this over with.” Lin grumbled as she sat down on the bed. “Ok let me show you the dress I picked for you.” I told her and went into the closet. I grabbed the dress and stepped out the closet to show Lin the dress. I held it up for her. “What do we think?” I asked her. I was holding up a long black dress. It was backless and it had light silver chains hanging on the back. The dress straps were basic. I didn't want to constrict her to the dress and plus I want her to show off her muscles! She works hard. She's gotta show em off. “I like it. You picked well.” Lin said. I looked at her and she was nodding her head in approval. I smiled. “Yay!” I squealed. She playfully rolls her eyes. “Now go shower, I'll wait.” I told her. Lin nodded then went into the bathroom.

I laid the dress down gently then set up the vanity. I made sure I had everything for Lin. After a while Lin came out in a robe and I smiled. “Did you wash your face?” I asked her. She shook her head. “Let’s wash your face then moisturize.” I told her and dragged her back into the bathroom. Lin nodded and I let her use my face wash. After she washed her face I pat dried her face then I let her use your fancy moisturizer as she likes to call it. Once that was done I took her to the vanity and I sat her down so I could do her makeup. I primed her face, used concealer, and skin tint because it’s a bit lighter and her face doesn’t need a lot of coverage. I didn’t bother to contour because she’s already got good bone structure so just a bit of bronzer to bring color to her face. Once that was done I did light blush. I didn’t want to add too much to her face like I do myself.

When I finished it was time to do eyeliner. I was trying to figure out how to find a good position to do her eyeliner. “Fuck, ok I’m gonna have to get up and personal.” I told her and sat on her lap. Lin opened her eyes and looked at me. “I’m sorry I gotta get this eyeliner done.” I said. Lin nodded then relaxed and pulled me closer to her. “Thank you for cooperating.” I said and started to do her eyeliner. I did a simple small wing, nothing crazy and I did my best to copy the same wing on her right eye. I closed the eyeliner pen then put it down and cupped Lin’s face and looked at her. Turning her face from side to side to make sure the eyeliner looked good.

Lin opened her eyes. “Close your eyes.” I told her. She sighed and closed her eyes. “Ok I think it looks good.” I said. “Can I look at myself now?” Lin asked. “No! I’m not done yet jeez.” I said. She groaned. “Be patient.” I told her. Lin sighed and patted my thighs. I laughed. I turned to grab my eye shadow palette and brushes. It was a basic brown palette. Just to bring a little warmth to her eyes after I finished I grabbed my lash tray and glue. I put glue on the left lash then let it dry a bit. Once it was semi dry I put the left lash on her left eye. It was a simple lash, nothing dramatic but it would work really well with her eyes. I did the same to the right lash then cupped Lin’s face and turned it from side to side. “Looking good.” I mumbled. I then grabbed my setting spray.

“Keep ya eyes and mouth close.” I told her. Lin nodded and then I sprayed her face with setting spray. Once I was done Lin coughed. “Is that fucking hair spray?” Lin asked. “Probably but it keeps your makeup together.” I said. Lin sighed. I looked at her face again then smiled. “Perfect.” I said. I grabbed a little mirror and gave it to Lin. She looked at herself. “Hmm pretty good.” Lin said and nodded her head. “You like it?” I asked. “I do but I know I won’t be as pretty as you.” Lin said, stroking my cheek. The door opened. “Hey…am I interrupting something?” Su asked. “Oh no. I just finished up her makeup. She’s all yours.” I told Su and got up from Lin’s lap. Su nodded and I left the room to go to mine. My heart was racing. I got to my room and started getting ready. I did my makeup then got dressed. By the time I finished I heard a knock at my door.

“Come in.” I said. My door opened and it was Lin. “Oh Lin! You look beautiful.” I said and walked over to her. “Thank you but I will never do this again.” Lin said. “Oh come on! You look stunning.” I said. “I do but this isn’t my style and you know it.” Lin said. “I know but you look so pretty.” I said. “You look beautiful.” Lin said. “Thank you.” I said. “Let’s get this party over with.” Lin said and held out her hand to me. I took her hand and my heart melted. I let her lead me into the party. Mako and Bolin were shocked to see Lin all dressed up. “Wow Chief!” Bolin exclaimed. “You look great, Chief.” Mako said. “Thank you.” Lin said. As the night went on Lin and I drank and danced the night away. I was having the best night of my life with her. The party was still going but Lin and I decided we were over it and went back to her room making out.

When we got into her room she locked the door and tossed me onto the bed. Lin started taking off her dress and I sat up to take off my dress. Lin climbed on top of me and we went back to making out. “You know since you’re so pretty and feminine you wanna try without the strap?” I teasingly asked. “No.” She said. “Fine. We do it your way.” I said. “That’s right.” Lin said and smirked.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Double Trouble Seresin Sister Part 2

Warnings: swearing, mentions of the past, typical Hangman

Pairings: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader, Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Sister Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: Y/N “Nyx” Seresin is called back to the one place she never thought she’d go back to, Top Gun. You had zero idea what was so urgent that needed not only you, but the other best pilots to come out of the academy. Mixed feelings came about when your brother, Jake, is also called back. Being MIA the last year put a strain on your relationship, but a certain pilot is there to help you through it all.  

A/N: Hi everyone! Apologizes for the delay in getting part 2 out. I have so many ideas for this story and cannot wait for you all to read it! As always, my inbox is open for requests, questions, or a simple “hello”. Thank you so much for reading!!!

Part 1

Bradley met you outside the locker room and one look told you he knew exactly what went down out there. You brushed past him, narrowly missing his shoulder, “I don’t want to hear it.”

He threw his hands up in surrender, “Didn’t say anything.” While he was technically correct, you could read him like a book. It was day one and you and your brother were already going at it. Something he told you to avoid.

You went to open the door of the women’s locker room, but stopped and asked, “Can we go for a drive?”

His face softened at the request, and he nodded his head, “Of course. I’ll be right out here.”

Back when the two of you were stationed together, you found yourselves going on drives regularly. It first started out when you had a particularly rough day and he wanted to get you out of there before you started swinging at people above your rank. But it slowly morphed into an activity the two of you shared.

Good days and bad, being on the road with Bradley cleared your mind and it was something you were eternally grateful for.

 After changing out of your flight gear and taking a quick shower, you found yourself walking out of the base and into the old Bronco.

“How is this thing still running?” A simple question you knew would rile him up.

“I will drop you on the side of the road if you continue to dis my car. You know I keep her in perfect condition.” It was true. You knew men liked their cars, but Bradley took it to a whole new level.

The pair of you drove in silence for a good while, but you knew you had to break the silence eventually. Bradley was giving you time to work whatever it was out but knew he would be expecting an explanation soon.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard seeing him again.” Your focus was out the side window, but you saw his head turn towards you at your sudden admission.

“The two of you were close before, right?” You sighed at his question and nodded your head.

“We used to be best friends.” You knew his next question without him having to ask.

“What happened? You never did tell me much about your family when we met.” You turned and smirked at him.

“I didn’t think you would want to hear about my brother.” He chuckled and shook his head, “Well now something is clearly bothering you and I want to know how to fix it.”

Your heart swelled at what he said, and you had to turn your attention back to the window to hide the blush that crept up.

“I’m not the socially perfect southern bell my ma wanted me to be. The high-class social events were never something I wanted to be a part of. Don’t get me wrong, she supportive of my job and anything I did growing up, but she doesn’t get it. Not like my dad does. But at the same time, my dad is very old school and even though I’m his little girl, I’m in a man’s job and that caused a few issues between us. So, between my sisters being what my ma wants and Jake being what my dad wants, I’ve always been on the outside. But Jake was always there for me. He always made a point to include me in everything he did and even when I got into the Navy, he helped me through my rough patches. I can’t even begin to tell you the number of late-night calls he got due to me freaking out over something so small. But he never once made me feel like I was below him.”

You stopped to take a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain this next part. “You saw what happened last year. If Jake ever found out, I feel like his view of me would change. His baby sister went through hell, and I don’t know if it would lead him to hurt or disappointment.”

Bradley shook his head, “Why would he be disappointed? It wasn’t something that was your fault.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your head onto the seat behind you. “Because I’ve changed. I’m not the same person I was before that mission, and you know it. I just don’t think I can deal with my brother knowing that fact as well.”

Bradley huffed out a breath, “So pushing him away is the answer?” It wasn’t the best option, but how can you deal with disappointing someone when you don’t give them the chance to? You were already an outsider to the rest of your family. You couldn’t live with yourself if Jake distanced himself on his own terms. This way you save yourself some of that hurt.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when a hand grabbed yours and squeezed. “Let me ask you one more question and then I’ll drop it. Do you think your brother is going to let you walk away from him?”

You knew he wouldn’t let you. No matter how hard you try to keep him at arm’s length, he was going to keep pushing forward.

You both arrived back at the dorms well after the sun went down and parted ways. While being back at TopGun opened some old wounds, being back with Bradley was something you weren’t going to take for granted. No matter how short of time it may be.

You managed to slip back into your room without running into anyone from the team and you sent up a silent prayer for that. After the day you had, you didn’t have it in you to keep your walls up. It was one thing living up to your last name on a normal basis, but having your brother here meant you needed to work harder. An exhausting task to say the least

Rushing through your nighttime routine, you were able to get into bed before midnight, having sleep take over in seconds. And as much as you were thankful for the quick onset, you were awake a few hours later.

Nightmares were a normal occurrence for you this last year. But waking up drenched in sweat, gasping for air was not something you would ever get used to.

You fired off a quick text to Bradley to see if he was awake. After your accident in Guam, the two of you were stationed together during your recovery. Which allowed you to quickly find comfort in the pilot. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Bradley was home. And in this moment, you were craving any kind of comfort you could get.

A few minutes went by, and your phone showed no signs of life. You knew if you called him, he would wake up. But with training starting so early, you figured it would be too cruel to do that to him. No matter how many times he said it was okay.

Resorting to plan B, you got out of bed and headed out of your room to the kitchen to find any sort of warm beverage. At home, you always kept tea packets with you for these exact moments. But with the last-minute call back, you didn’t have time to pack any, leaving you to hope that someone brought a box.

You searched through the cabinets as quietly as you could but came up empty handed. Your anxiety was starting to creep back in from your nightmare and knew you needed to do something soon or else you would have a full-blown panic attack. With little to no options, you found yourself walking back down the hall, knocking on a door that was a few down from yours.

It didn’t take long for the person to open it and find you standing there, puffy eyed and trembling.

“Y/N, what happened? What’s wrong?” Your brother looked absolutely terrified in that moment, not knowing what to do.

“I-I just need a distraction. Or to not be alone.” His panic slowly changed into understanding as he opened the door for you to walk in. The second he closed the door he pulled you into a tight embrace.

It didn’t take long for the pent-up emotions to work their way out. Tears started flowing down your cheeks and you clung onto your brother for dear life. One of his hands was in your hair, holding your head against his chest while the other one rubbed slow circles on your back.

“Let it out, sweetheart. I got you.” It was those simple words that made your heart ache. Growing up, you always went to your brother when you were hurting. Whether it was after a nightmare or a bad day, you always went to him for love and support.

You stood there and cried over many different things. The nightmare you can’t ever seem to run away from. Selfishly pushing your brother away for the past year. And the possibility of causing irreversible damage to the relationship with the one person who has always been there for you.

What if things didn’t go back to how they were before the accident? What if after opening up to your brother, he resents you for not telling him sooner? In your moment of weakness, you managed to either take a step in the right direction or start the downward spiral of losing your brother for good.

Thoughts? Comments? Thank you for reading!!

-Chelsea

Tag List: @mrsjobarnes

[eridanidreams]

Fiction Friday

This past week has been kind of crazy for me, but I do have something I can post. This one's a quiet moment in a future arc for Adam and Sloane...

Sloane came out of the bathroom, vigorously toweling her hair, as Adam came through the door. His eyes widened a little at the sight of her in her sports bra. “Hey,” she said, managing a reasonably normal tone, determined to ignore any potential awkwardness. “Give me just a minute.” Her hair was dry enough, so she pivoted to toss the towel back into the bathroom.

Behind her, Adam inhaled sharply and growled, “Who did that to you?”

“What?” She looked back at him, confused.

“Your back. Who did that?” He sounded angrier with every word, and Sloane finally realized what he was talking about. There was that one particular scar—

“Easy,” she said calmly, and turned to face him; he was flexing his hands, like he wanted to punch someone. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, really? Because I think someone put out about half a dozen cigarettes on you,” he retorted.

“Nope,” she said, trying to stay calm. “Honest. Nothing like that—though now that I think about it, it is my first ‘no shit, there I was’ story.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Sloane—” His voice was full of exasperation, although his eyes were sad. Had he only now realized what the various scars on her skin meant? Was he re-thinking what he’d said last night? She should have been relieved at the thought; instead, she was disappointed.

“They’re just scars, Adam,” she said, matter-of-factly, pulling her t-shirt over her head. “They didn’t kill me. Obviously.” He’d been staring at the line that ran from the point of her right hip to just under her left breast, the one that was still faintly pink; he jerked his eyes up to hers as she tugged the shirt down. “Chechnya,” she answered his unspoken question. “I’d rather not talk about that one. If you have coffee, though, I’ll tell you about the burn scar.”

He did not, in fact, have coffee in his room, but it was a short walk to a café that did. She wondered if it was a mistake to reveal herself to him; this was a story she’d told to a very select group, all of them fellow medics. She wasn’t sure how Adam would take it, but she’d promised.

Sloane turned the coffee cup around in her hands. As a drink, it was decidedly inferior; as something to do with her hands, it served perfectly. “I was halfway through medic training when the Vilama caldera blew in ’14.” Adam’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “The Army was part of the disaster relief mobilization. They stripped everyone that had a medical MOS and wasn’t on critical duty elsewhere—Walter Reed, BAMC, even us trainees at Bragg—and sent us down there.”

“All I know is what I saw on the news,” he said. “It looked terrible.”

“It was.” The experience was branded into her memory. “The stink—you wouldn’t believe the stink. Sulfur, mostly. Charred pork, from all the burns—it was a year before I could even think about eating bacon again. And rot—burns went septic like you wouldn’t believe. There was a lot of gangrene. We couldn’t keep sterile conditions—the ash got everywhere. If you tried to shower it off, it turned into this gritty slime. We had to change out dust masks three times a day. The color was leached out of everything; even our clothes turned grey. And quiet. Everything for a hundred square miles was dead. No birds. No insects. No trees or plants. It may not have been hell, but you could damn sure see it from there.” She sipped at her coffee; it hadn’t improved. “A few days in, the volcanologists said the magma had diverted unexpectedly and was going to vent in one of the clear zones, so they sent four of us—me, my squadmate, and a couple from Médecins Sans Frontières that knew the area—to evac the nearby village.

“Either the science guys were wrong or we were too slow, ‘cause one minute we were getting the last few stragglers, the next...” She shook her head. “The temperature jumped thirty degrees in just a few seconds. The wind kicked up hard; my skin got all dry and tight—like right before a sunburn. And the ground… you never know how much you expect the ground to be stable and reliable until it isn’t.” She put her cup down with a clink. “So there I was, a month shy of my nineteenth birthday, green as grass, in the middle of a fucking volcanic eruption.”

Adam’s hand wrapped around her wrist and gave it a brief, gently supportive squeeze. Oddly—she didn’t usually invite physical contact—it helped. “What did you do?”

“We ran.” Sloane said simply. “All the smoke and ash pouring into the air, was like the sun went out. We could barely see, barely breathe, even through the masks. And if that had been all, we’d have made it out easy. But these things started landing around us. Lava bombs. Same color as the sky; you couldn’t see them until they hit, and then it was nothing but red.” She took a deep breath. “My squadmate was helping one of the MSF doctors, she was having trouble. Lava bomb caught them both right in the head. Splashed all over her husband—arms, chest, face. I got lucky; just caught a little backsplash.” She shrugged the shoulder in question.

Adam sounded horrified. “That’s from lava?”

“About a thousand degrees Celsius,” she confirmed. “Would have burned to the bone if I hadn’t ripped my shirt off fast.” She rubbed her hand down her face. “Not much more to tell. The doc was still breathing, and we were dead if we stayed, so I grabbed him and hauled ass to where we’d left the jeep. It lasted long enough to get us out of the red zone, and I called for a medevac.” She finished off the coffee just for the welcome hit of caffeine. “He got sent off to one of the big hospitals in Buenos Aires, and I got a hydrogel patch and some spray-on sealant and went back to doing field amputations and burn treatments.” She looked up at Adam. “Lot of firsts there.”

“Like what?” He looked genuinely curious.

Sloane started listing them on her fingers. “First time I thought I was going to die. Hell, first time I really, truly understood that I could die. I’d never been that scared.” It was strange—she usually remembered only the grim determination to escape, to live—but telling Adam the story today, the remembered fear was vivid in her mind. “First decoration for valor; not that I think I deserved it, but someone did.” She sighed. “First time I had to make the choice to save myself or take the risk and save someone else.”

“If the guy’s injuries were that bad,” Adam said in a thoughtful tone, “no one would have blamed you for just getting yourself out.” She could see the warmth of a not-quite-smile in his eyes. “Probably why someone thought you deserved the medal.”

“I would have blamed me,” she said with a sigh. “I couldn’t blame myself for getting the others out, but I knew I could get the doc out as long as we didn’t get hit again.” She spread both hands open. “And that’s it. I don’t tell that story often.” She smiled, a little wryly. “Most ‘no shit there I was’ stories end in ‘and that’s how my badassery saved the day’. This is more ‘there but for the grace of God go I’.”

“So why tell me?” He tilted his head in inquiry.

“You asked.”

[ivybird]

It's always the quiet ones - Part three - It's urgent.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

Summary: You don’t mess with the Queen.

Word Count: 1878.

Warnings: Swearing, shouting, aggressive John, protective Bucky (he’s a warning, okay), physical abuse, mental abuse, guns, violence, blood, smoking, allusions to sexual assault.

A/N: Hey guys! Thank you for being patient while I dealt with my dogs passing. Okay, so, sad stuff out the way, here’s part three! I’m so excited that this story if finally taking shape and we’re slowly getting into the nitty gritty! Please like, comment, reblog and follow! It’d mean the world! GIF isn’t mine! Enjoy loves!

Series Masterlist.

The next morning, the sun shone through the curtains calling for Bucky to wake. He rolled and stretched with a smile…he was going to see her today. He rushed to shower and eat, the excitement bubbling through him like something he’d never felt. He opted to appear more casual, for the simple reason that he could move if anything turned nasty. As he slipped on his favourite leather jacket and checked himself in the mirror once more, he smiled again, he was positive his face was going to split.

He swiped the invitation off of the counter, grabbed his keys and almost ran to his car. The invitation itself was beautiful, a charcoal black envelope littered with gold writing. Stunning. Bucky practically raced to Walker’s home, the traffic lights clearly on his side. When he pulled up beside John’s car, he cursed, he was hoping she’d be alone. There and then, everything told him to go home, but he couldn’t, so instead, he had a smoke to calm his nerves.

His knuckles were heavy on the door as he knocked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, he just couldn’t stay still. He didn’t think he was going to get an answer, so he turned and made it down two of the steps before he stopped in his tracks at the creak of the door. “Mr Barnes?”. His shoulders fell at the sound of her voice and his inner God was doing backflips. He bounded up the steps to her as he spoke. “Y/N, hi”. She bit her lips shyly, her gaze heading to the floor. The poor girl thought he was breath-taking and wouldn’t dare be caught thinking it. She knew what John would do to her and no amount of makeup or clothes would hide it, he made that clear last time.

“Can I come in?”. Her warm Y/C/E shot up and locked with his, panic washed over her face and her voice cracked as she spoke. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea Mr Barnes, John won-“. She was cut off by a stern voice, and by the way she tensed Bucky knew it was Walker straight away. His shoulders squared as he waited for the asshole’s arrival. “John won’t what?”. As he sauntered up to the door, Y/N stepped behind him, hidden from Bucky. “Barnes”.

“Walker”. Both men just stared at one another, only breaking eye contact when Y/N cleared her throat. She clung onto John like a koala, terrified if she didn’t, she’d be sent upstairs. “Gonna tell me what you’re doin’ standing at my door, or ya just gonna stand there like an idiot?”. Bucky’s hands tightened into fists, he couldn’t disrespect John, not in his own home, but he’d be damned if he let him speak to the King that way. “Remember who you’re talkin’ to, Walker”. John stuttered and dropped his head for a split second, it took Y/N everything to not giggle at his macho resolve being broken. “I came to give you and Y/N this”. Bucky held the invitation up and snatched it out of reach when John’s hand reached for it. “But I wanna come in”. Walker straightened and took hold of Y/N’s hand and beckoned Bucky through. He was lead to the lounge by the pair, his eyes didn’t leave her. She was tense, her neck was stiff, and he could see she tried to get her had away from him every now and then, but he always tightened his grip.

Before Bucky knew it, they were sat opposite each other on the overly expensive and lavish couches. He was brought a coffee, because he wouldn’t dare to have a sip of whiskey if he was driving, and a finger sandwich to nibble on and only took a bite when he found that Y/N made it. He complimented her food so much it made her go the colour of a plumb and when he pointed it out, she giggled. Walker was quick to try and gain some control over his fiancé again. “So? What’s the invitation for?”. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

She looked so uncomfortable, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to grab her hand and run. “This is for Buchanan’s. We open in six days, and I want the both of you to attend as my guests”. Bucky had never seen Walker looked so confused and his inner God was punching the air as he fought a smirk. He locked eyes with Y/N and shot her a soft smile. “Drinks are on the house; dress code is black tie, and you get a seat up in the throne room”. John scoffed a little as his hold tightened on Y/N. “What’s the throne room? Isn’t that the bathroom?”.

Y/N giggled at John and locked eyes with Bucky once more. “No, John. The throne room is where the King and his most trusted sit. Am I right?”. Bucky chuckled in utter disbelief while anger swirled in John’s eyes. “Yeah…yeah that’s right. How the hell d’ya know that?”. Y/N giggled again; it was like music to Bucky’s ears. “You’re forgetting who my father is, Mr Barnes”. Bucky laughed and locked eyes with her. Her smile was warm and inviting and she could’ve got lost in his ocean orbs. They got lost in one another forgetting John was sitting right next to her until he cleared his throat drawing their attention to him.

“Alright, Barnes. You’ve wormed your way into my home and interrupted my time with Y/N”. She grimaced at his words, clearly not wanting to be left alone with him, silently thanking Bucky for the intrusion. “What’s the catch?”. Bucky leant back and made himself comfortable. “We both know that you being at Buchanan’s as my guest is gonna do wonders for you in the business world, sittin’ with the King after all the shit we’ve been through”. John rolled his eyes at Bucky causing a chuckle to rumble from his chest. Y/N didn’t know why, but the noise made her squirm. “I have some conditions. You break the rules, you get tossed out on your ass while Y/N sits at the top with me”.

She stiffened under John’s hold; she was in for it. Fuck. Bucky saw the interaction between the two, the jut of his jaw pushing towards the stairs. She nodded her head and stood; a sad smile being shot Bucky’s way. He stood the second she was on her feet, confused looks being sent his way by the pair in front of him. “No no, she stays. After all, Y/N needs to hear the rules too, because I can guarantee you, Walker, she won’t break my rules. She’s a good girl who shouldn’t even be within 10ft of you and I can tell you that we’ll have eyes on you all fucking night”.

Y/N looked at John asking permission to sit back down. He nodded at her but the fire in his eyes scared her senseless. She trembled at the thought of what was going to happen after Bucky left, she just wanted someone to be gentle, to kiss her softly and pull her into a hug that doesn’t end up with the other person forcing themselves on her because: “God, you don’t know what the fuck you do to me, you turn me into a fucking monster”.

John indicated for Bucky to continue. He sat back down, pulled his gun out of its holster under his jacket and turned the barrel to face John as he lay it on the coffee table. He smiled at Y/N, and she returned it despite her fear. He made her feel safe. Without taking his eyes of her, Bucky spoke. “You do what you’re told when you’re told, you don’t bat an eyelash without my say so, you cause a fight, you get shot, you try anything, with anyone, you get shot, you hurt anyone in my proximity, your head goes on a spike. Understood?”. Y/N eyed Bucky as he spoke, the way he looked at her, what he was saying to John without looking at him…it dawned on her. He knows. He knows he’s hurting her; he knows everything, he’s silently telling her. A wave of relief washed over her, Bucky watched her body physically relax, he knew she got it. John stood and paced behind the couch Y/N sat on, while he wasn’t looking Bucky gently nodded his head at her and her eyes were watery with relief as she stared at him. John swivelled on his heel to face Bucky once more. “You’ve got a deal, now get the fuck out of my house”. Bucky picked up his gun and stood, nodding softly at Y/N once more. She could’ve cried and screamed there and then. She didn’t want him to go, he had no idea what John was going to do to her. If he caught on that Bucky knows what he’s been doing to her, he’s going to kill her, so she couldn’t blab, she was sure of it. Silent tears made their way down her face as she watched Bucky head to the door. Her small whisper of “please don’t go” not picked up by his too far away ears.

The moment their front door slammed shut John’s hands were on her. He pulled her up from the couch by her hair holding her face so close to his she could smell the coffee on him. “The fuck did you tell him?!”. When she only whimpered at the pain spreading through her scalp he pulled harder. “Huh? The fuck did you tell him? You tell him what we get up to? Show him your bruises? Think he’s your knight in shining armour, think he’s gonna save you, take you away from me?”. Her lips wobbled as she pleaded with him. “I didn’t tell him anything John I swear! I don’t know if he knows!”.

His hand moved so fast she didn’t see it coming, his palm made contact with her cheek, sending her flying to the floor. “Please stop! John please!”. Her pleas were ignored as he straddled her and wrapped his hands around her throat. She kicked and punched but it was no use, he was too strong. She saw black, her vision blurred at the edges before he unexpectedly let up. He scrambled off her and ran his hands through his short blonde her. “Get outta my sight”. She didn’t move, frozen in place. He’d never choked her before; he could’ve killed her. “I said GET OUT”. She scurried off the floor and ran up the stairs not even checking to see if he followed her. She knew Bucky was gone, she couldn’t have run outside and begged him to take her with him.

She slammed the bedroom door shut and ran for her phone. Her watery eyes found the number she was looking for, her hands shook as she brought it up to her ear. The line clicked and she was greeted with a deep ‘hello?’. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath; he didn’t need to know what just happened. “Daddy, hi. Yeah, I’m good, I’m okay. I need you to do somethin’ for me. It’s urgent”.

[whump-me]

Unseen: Chapter 14

Chapter 14 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

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Violet flicked off the TV. Bugs Bunny couldn’t make her laugh today, and she didn’t know why. And all the movies she tried were as boring as they were confusing. Just flickering images passing in front of her face. Meaningless.

The nagging whisper of dissatisfaction wasn’t a whisper anymore. And now it was threaded through with anxiety. A couple of hours ago, she could have sworn she heard a gunshot. Then a big commotion—hurrying feet and raised voices. She had listened at the top of the stairs, but hadn’t been able to make it out any words.

Then the commotion had quieted, with Violet no more enlightened than before.

She kept telling herself it was nothing. If it was important, Yvette would have come to get her. Yvette would have needed her. She hadn’t, so there was nothing to worry about.

But Violet knew what a gunshot sounded like. She had trained with guns. Not as frequently as with up-close weapons—there wasn’t much point in having an operative who would turn invisible if she was just going to stand back and shoot. But she’d had the training, because she needed to know how to use all the tools available to her.

And she knew what a gunshot sounded like from a distance. She knew the sound that came after someone got taken away for recycling—too many red marks, too many worried whispers about instability. That sound meant she wouldn’t see them in training for the rest of the day, or the next day, or ever again.

Maybe Yvette hadn’t come for her because Yvette was dead.

Footsteps on the stairs. Violet went invisible. She eased herself off the couch as quietly as she could and crept toward the stairs.

Who was coming for her? She didn’t know. She needed to know.

If Yvette was gone, Violet had to take care of herself now. And that began with knowing what she was dealing with.

She chastised herself for not having an improvised weapon with her at the ready at all times. She never should have let herself get so comfortable.

But the figure walking upstairs with slow, heavy steps was Yvette. Violet let out a silent breath of relief.

The look on Yvette’s face was enough to tell Violet she hadn’t been wrong about what she had heard earlier, though. Something was very wrong. Yvette’s lips were white, her eyes dark pools of pain. She had taken a shower recently—her hair was dripping all over her expensive shirt.

She smelled like flower soap. Underneath that, she smelled like fear. But her eyes spoke only of grief and a terrifying dark rage.

“Violet?” Yvette’s voice was rough with tears. She looked side to side. “Violet, where are you?”

Violet reappeared. Yvette jerked back, her hand flying to her heart. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”

“What happened?” Violet asked, almost in a whisper.

“Someone tried to have me killed.” Yvette’s rough voice took on a flat, emotionless cadence. “Reynold is dead. My… my assistant. My father’s assistant, really.”

The naked hurt on her face as she said his name told Violet he had been more than that. But Violet didn’t ask.

“Then you have a mission for me,” said Violet. “The person responsible. Who are they?” She marveled at the eagerness in voice. It felt like a long time since she had looked forward to a mission.

But was it really the mission she was looking forward to? Leaving her comfortable couch and going out into the night? She didn’t think so. She just wanted to do something to ease the bottomless hurt in Yvette’s eyes.

Why? She didn’t care about Yvette. Yvette was her captor. At best, Yvette was her new handler. And she had never given a second thought to her old handler’s personal life, or any pain he might have felt. He had been part of the machinery of her life, like the straps in the van that held her down, like the alarm that woke her every morning.

But Yvette shook her head. “I don’t know who’s responsible yet. There was a meeting. Someone at the meeting had to have been in contact with the assassin. He told them when I left the room, and where to find me. He probably planned it ahead of time. But there were too many people there. It could have been any of them.”

“What do you need?” Violet asked, frowning in confusion. Maybe… maybe Yvette had known Violet was scared, after all the noise earlier. Maybe she had come to let Violet know everything was okay.

Only it was plain to see that nothing was okay. And Yvette didn’t look like she was in a position to reassure anyone.

Instead of answering, Yvette pushed past Violet into the living room, where she sagged onto the couch. Violet, unsure of what she was supposed to do, followed her in but remained standing. She clutched her hands together in front of her, and squeezed them together like her palms were giving each other a hug.

There were a lot of hugs on TV. She couldn’t remember ever getting one herself. They looked nice. They looked warm.

Yvette closed her eyes. They stayed closed. Had Yvette fallen asleep?

Violet had just started to creep out of the room when Yvette spoke. “You said you were created for the work you do,” she said. “You’ve never thought about doing anything else, have you?”

“Why would I?” Violet asked. “This is what I do. It’s what I’m for.”

“But how do you know that?” Yvette’s eyes opened. The grief and rage there shifted aside to make room for an anguished question. “How do you know this is what you want to do with your life?”

Violet squeezed her hands together harder. An instinct buried deep in her gut screamed threat. Yvette was her captor. Yvette controlled her fate. And right now, Yvette wasn’t making sense.

Yvette wanted something from her, and Violet didn’t know what. Like an impossible demand made in training. The kind of thing that would earn you either congratulations for seeing through the trick question, or a red mark on your file for not understanding something that should have been obvious.

“I don’t know what it means to want to be what I am,” Violet answered. “It just… it just is.”

“But now you’ve had a taste of freedom. You know there’s more to the world than PERI.”

Impossible to reply without telling Yvette this wasn’t freedom. Impossible to risk offending her captor by speaking that truth. “My purpose hasn’t changed,” she finally said. “Only my situation. Freedom doesn’t mean not doing the work I was created for.”

“Because that’s what I brought you here to do,” Yvette muttered, her voice so low Violet wasn’t sure whether she was meant to hear it. “You were trained to obey orders, and I gave you orders.”

Was it Violet’s imagination, or were the walls of the room slowly closing in? Violet tried not to shiver at the wobble in Yvette’s voice, and said nothing.

Yvette stared into her eyes. The cold, steady calm Violet was used to seeing there was gone. Shattered. “If I were to let you go right now,” he said, “would you choose to be something besides an assassin?”

The question sped up Violet’s pulse until she felt dizzy. She imagined herself back in that restaurant, frozen, helpless. Alone.

Or was that a flicker of the old excitement she was feeling?

Did she want to hide under the bed until Yvette took her question back? Or did she want to twirl in the moonlight?

“I… I don’t know how to live out there in the world,” Violet admitted. “Not on my own.”

“I’m not sending you out there,” Yvette said. Violet came back to earth with a heavy thud. The floor was steady under her feet again. Solid. She wasn’t sure if that heavy feeling was reassurance or disappointment.

“I just want to know what you would do,” said Yvette. “Who you would be.”

“Why?”

“Answer the question. Please.” Yvette’s voice was almost frantic, like her life depended on the answer. “If you had a choice—a real choice—would you do what you do now?”

Violet knew Yvette didn’t mean lying on the couch and watching cartoons. She meant the only part of Violet’s life that mattered. The only part that made her worth something.

“It’s who I am,” she said, still not quite understanding what Yvette was getting at.

“Why?” Yvette pressed. “What makes you an assassin? Why couldn’t you choose to be something else?”

“I was bred to be a PERI operative,” said Violet. “My ability and my fast reflexes made assassination an ideal fit for me. I’ve trained for it since I was five years old.” She frowned. “Why are you asking me this?” she dared to ask.

Yvette shook her head. The anguish in her eyes turned—strangely—to shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

Tears leaked from her eyes. She swiped a hand angrily across her face and turned away.

“Just tell me what you need,” said Violet. “I want to help.” She wasn’t sure why she wanted to help so badly. She just knew she did.

“I didn’t realize just how alone I was,” she said. “Not until Reynold was gone, and I had no one left.” She gave a harsh sniff. “Why am I telling you this? You don’t want to hear it. I’ll come back when I have a target for you.” She pushed herself up off the couch.

Scarcely understanding what she was doing, Violet took Yvette’s hand. Yvette’s fingers were cold, her skin slick with tears. Violet sat slowly, and eased Yvette down with her. Yvette didn’t resist.

Violet held her hand a couple of seconds longer. Then she let go, unable to shake the certainty that a guard would appear and put them both in the punishment room. Unnecessary touch wasn’t allowed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Violet. “If what you need is something to talk to, then… then you can talk to me.”

“That hardly seems fair to you.” Yvette swept her hand across her eyes again. “You’re a prisoner. I caged you like an animal and asked you to kill for me. You shouldn’t have to listen to me whine at you on top of all that.” She shook her head. “He told me not to do it, you know.”

“Do what?” Violet asked.

“Steal you from PERI.”

She hadn’t called it rescue this time. “I’m glad you did,” Violet admitted softly. “It’s… it’s the same work. That part isn’t any different. But… everything else is different. Better. I can eat whenever I want, and sleep whenever I want, and watch TV, and… and things are comfortable.”

“You’re not free, you know,” Yvette said without looking at her. “That was a lie.”

“I figured that out,” Violet said. “But…” Her voice trailed off. How could she put words to something she didn’t understand herself? “But I like the couch,” she finished inadequately. “And I like the cookies. And Bugs Bunny.”

Yvette let out a soft laugh. There was more sadness in it than happiness.

“Reynold thought I should walk away from the Couvillion Syndicate,” Yvette said after a long silence. “He thought the only reason I stayed was because I don’t know enough about the world to choose something else.”

“What’s the Couvillion Syndicate?”

Yvette’s head turned sharply to her again. She stared. “You don’t know?”

“All I know is where I came from, and now this house,” Violet reminded her.

That didn’t lessen the shock on Yvette’s face. Shock shot through with shame. “This house is the Couvillion Syndicate,” said Yvette. “Or it might as well be. It’s my father’s organization. Now it’s mine. It’s who you’re working for. I really didn’t tell you any of this?”

“Why would you have? It wouldn’t have affected my work.” Joss had never told her the reason behind any of her missions.

Yvette stared at her a moment longer. “Anyway,” she finally said, “I think that’s why I came to you. Because I don’t have anyone else, which is kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Her laugh sounded like broken glass. “But also because you only know one thing, just like me. I wanted to know… how you felt about that. Whether you ever thought you might want something different.”

Reluctantly, Violet shook her head. “I can’t help you. You belong to the outside world. People in the outside world get a choice. PERI operatives don’t. From the moment PERI chose my DNA sources and created me from an embryo, I was only meant for one purpose.”

There was a look in Yvette’s eyes now that Violet didn’t understand. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

Violet wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. With how volatile Yvette was right now, Violet thought it was probably best not to ask.

“Let me know when you have a new target for me,” Violet said. “That’s something I’ll be able to help with.”

Maybe that would make the nagging dissatisfaction go away. Maybe if she had a reason to leave the comfort of Yvette’s house. Maybe if she knew she could do something besides eat and sleep and watch TV and take the occasional break to kill.

She could help Yvette feel better. She wanted to help Yvette feel better.

Yvette nodded. “I’ll do that,” she said, standing up before Violet could reach for her hand again. “I’ll leave you alone until then. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Violet said. But Yvette was already rushing out of the living room and down the stairs, swiping at her eyes once more.

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Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[splendidreads]

Open Your Arms, Part 3

Mob!Bucky Barnes × Female OC

Word Count: 4692

Warnings: some mildly foul language, threats, protective Bucky is a warning in itself.

Summary: 'Arranged marriages are never easy. This one is no exception. Both sides will have to relearn their ways, and learn to trust each other. Bucky has all the love to give, but Katherine doesn't know how to accept real love. She's never been loved by anyone other than her best friend. Will she learn to open her heart, to New Yorks most notorious Mob Boss? Or is she too scared, that he's just like everyone else?'

A/N; This is my FIRST Bucky story. As well as my first AU story. If this first part does well, l'll keep on going. I'm incredibly beyond nervous about this. ALSO; things will pick up in the next chapter!! DONT WORRY!!

Constructive criticism welcome, but please be nice.

Please re-post and comment:)

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied and posted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. PLEASE just reblog if you want to share my story!!

TAGLIST: @wintasssoldier

Part 4 Here

SONG: Finesse by Bruno Mars & Cardi B

Katherine had slept pretty well that night, in her new big bed. She had actually slept into the morning, for the first time in years. Her bed was surely a mess, and she probably had the worst bed head of her life. But for the first time in what felt like forever, she felt rested.

A soft humming sound started in her throat, as she rolled over in the bed, hearing her phone buzz against the nightstand. She stretched her arm out, blindly smacking her hand around before she finally felt her phone. One of her eyes slowly peeled itself open, just enough to look at her phone.

10 text messages, and 2 missed calls.

It was then that she finally looked at the time, both of her eyes snapping open. It was nearly eleven in the morning, far longer than she’d ever slept in before.

“Shit!”

She fell out of the bed with a loud plop, scurrying to get to the bathroom and start her day. As she turned the shower on, she went through her text messages.

Sage 7:46am ‘GOOD MORNING! Let me take Skadi out for a walk, then let me know when someone will come get me!’

Sage 8:03 ‘Skadi tried to drag me into the lake.’

Sage 8:30 ‘KATIE ARE YOU UP?’

Bucky 8:32 ‘Good morning, Katherine. I came to check on you, but you were so peacefully sound asleep.. I thought I’d just let you rest. I have meetings starting at 9, and hopefully will have a lunch break around noon. I hope you sleep well, and I’ll see you later (:’

Sage 9:10 ‘I’m ready whenever you are’

Sage 9:30 ‘…are you alive?’

Sage 9:47 ‘Did something happen..?’

9:52 Missed phone call, Sage

Sage 10:03 ‘I’m stopping by your house, or I guess your old house, grabbing a couple of things. Your dad isn’t here..’

10:13 Missed phone call, Sage

Sage 10:15 ‘Did I possibly steal someone’s phone number, because you left the letter on your desk? Yes, yes I did.’

Bucky 10:25 ‘Sage texted me. Steve’s about to head over to get her.. I know you said she worries a lot, but she seems pretty antsy to not hear from you. I told her that you were asleep, and she didn’t seem to believe me..?’

Katherine let out a long huff of air as she began brushing her teeth, reading all of the text messages. Her eyes rolled, reading the ones from Sage. But when she saw the texts from Bucky, she smiled. She hummed softly, her fingers tapping away on the glass screen.

‘Everything’s fine, I promise!! Would you believe me if I said that I slept in?’

‘Good morning! I’m so sorry, I don’t ever sleep in like this. Thank you for being so kind! Don’t worry about Sage, it’s just very uncharacteristic of me, lol’

She sent the first text to Sage and the second to Bucky, as she moved around the bathroom, prepping to get into the shower. Just as she was about to step into the shower, Sage texted her back.

‘…What?’

‘I was preparing myself to fight a mob, just so you know..’

‘Also.. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THAT STEVE WAS HOT!’

A rumble of a laugh passed Katherine’s lips, shaking her head as she quickly texted her back.

‘Lol I’m getting into the shower see you soon.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katherine decided to try and leave her hair down for the day, realizing she hasn’t had that opportunity in such a long time. Her hair was always in a slick bun, or a braid for work. It had been long enough that she was a bit surprised to see that the strands reached right above her rear. She had a hard time getting herself ready, her eyes glued to the body she saw in the mirror.. Noticing every detail that she despised about herself. She wasn’t a petite woman, that was for sure. Her hips were wide, thighs jiggling as she moved. Her tummy had a bit of a pooch, sticking out over her jeans, enough for her to grab between her fingers to fiddle with. Stretch marks across her hips and abdomen, even her thighs and breasts, from frequent weight changes. She would at least give herself credit for having nice curves.

A sharp rap of knocks at her bedroom door snapped her out of the daze.

“Hold on!” Her voice echoed through the bathroom, her bare feet padding across the tile as she pulled a shirt over her head.

“My hands are full or I would just come in anyways!” Sages voice sounded from the other side of the door.

Her hands were full?

Katherine pulled the door open, a confused look on her face as not only Sage but Steve as well both walked into her room with a few boxes and shopping bags. She continued with her confused expression, a hand on her hip as she watched them set everything in the TV area.

“So, I know that you’re not a very materialistic person,” Sage started, opening a few boxes, “But I also know.. That was never really a choice.”

Katherine walked towards them, peering into the boxes, “Okay…”

“I may have let it slip, that you’re a bit of an artist..” Sage shot her an innocent look, “I grabbed everything from my place that you had, and Bucky sent Steve and I out to get you new art supplies.”

Katherine’s eyes shot up, looking between the two blondes. She was silent for a moment, not sure what she wanted to say. Steve let out a soft sigh, a smile on his lips as he helped Sage take everything out from the bags

“He had already fully intended on taking you shopping.. But after talking to Sage,” His eyes went to her, a smile on his lips, “We all agreed you could use the surprise.”

Katherine stood there, dumbfounded. It wasn’t unlike Sage to try and take care of her, that wasn’t anything new. But the fact that it was Bucky, as well as Steve.. She watched as the two began taking things out, her eyes looking at all of the things.

“I also got a few things for you to decorate your room with.” Sage spoke, looking around the room. “This is the perfect spot!”

Sage stood up with a handful of rectangular frames in her hands. She walked over towards the television, and began placing them on the wall, trying to figure out the best spot for them. Katherine watched her for a moment, trying to look at the photos.. She could practically feel her heart swell, realizing what the pictures were. One was of Katherine and Sage, around the time they met. They were both so young.. Another was the two of them, a bit older, with a huge mess of paint. They both had big grins plastered on their faces, though she knew that after that moment they cleaned it all up. Next was a photo of them from their High School graduation..

“I thought you could use a few personal touches.”

Katherine’s lips curved up into a sweet smile, “Thank you.. Both.” She turned her smile to Steve, who just simply nodded his head, returning the smile.

Sage hummed softly, as she stuck the photos to the wall, satisfied with her arrangement. She then went back to all of the things on the table, and began to move some stuff around. Soon, all three of them were going around the room, decorating. Sage had suggested putting music on, and Katherine didn’t argue. The girls were dancing around the room, having a great time.. Katherine didn’t even notice that Steve had been gone for about fifteen minutes.

“Ooh, don't we look good together?

There's a reason why they watch all night long..

Yeah, know we'll turn heads forever..

So tonight I'm gonna show you off!”

Sages voice sang the words happily, both girls laughing as they danced around. Katherine smiled, walking into her closet to hang up the last of her clothes.. There wasn’t much, but it was at least a little better now. Sage had brought the clothes that Katherine left at her house, wanting her to have better options. Katherine had gone deep into her walk in closet, the music flooding her ears, and didn’t have any idea that Steve was back.. And that there was someone else in the room as well.

“You must be him.” Sage smiled, putting her hand out, “It’s good to officially meet you.”

Bucky offered her a kind smile, shaking her hand, “You too.” He glanced around the room, raising an eyebrow, “It looks nice. Thank you for doing this..” He seemed like he had more to say.

Sage hummed softly, “No problem. I’m just thankful that you’re not a big meanie,” She chuckled a bit, before lowering her voice, “She would kill me for saying anything… But I feel like it’s my job.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed on his face, listening intently. He could hear Katherine in the closet, humming along to the music. He wondered if she liked to sing.. But he was also very curious to know what Sage was about to tell him.

“I know way more about what you do, than she does.” Sage crossed her arms on her chest, looking directly to Bucky’s eyes, “She has no idea.. The reality of what she’s about to put herself in.”

Bucky nodded his head slowly, though his eyes narrowed a bit, “And just how do you think you know?”

Sage chuckled softly, proving his gaze ineffective, “Deputy Chief Alexandria Chambers.”

Bucky’s gaze softened, hearing the name. He looked to Steve, who simply nodded his head as if he already knew the information that was being revealed. He was confused.. How did she know her?

“She was my mother.”

Bucky swallowed a lump in his throat, “She was one of the best, that’s for damn sure.. I was very sorry to hear about her passing.”

Sage nodded her head slowly, “Thank you. She was always fair.. And I know that she was on your side of things. Well, you and your mob family.”

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure where this conversation was going, but he continued nonetheless, “I’m assuming that uhm..” He cleared his throat, “She made sure her daughter was well aware of the world she lived in.”

Sage nodded her head, “She was very thorough about it.” She seemed like she was about to say more, though a smile crept its was back onto her face when they could all hear Katherine’s voice.

“When I'm walkin' with you..

I watch the whole room change..

Baby, that's what you do..”

Katherine had absolutely no idea about the conversation that was taking place, as she hung up her clothes. If anyone had been paying close attention, they might have noticed the sweet smile that tugged on the corners of Bucky’s mouth. ‘She sounds wonderful..’

“Listen,” Sage looked to Bucky’s eyes, a serious expression on her face, “I just don’t want Katie to get caught in the crossfire of your world.” She let out a huff of air, “She deserves the best.. Even if she doesn’t think so herself.”

“No, my baby, don't play..

Blame it on my confidence..

Oh, blame it on your measurements..”

Steve walked over, grabbing the now empty bags. He was listening to Sage speak to Bucky, and he knew where she was going with her words.. Sage had told Steve quite a bit when they went shopping. She was quite the protective friend.. And for good reason. He glanced at Bucky, their eyes meeting for a moment. Bucky’s eyes shifted back towards Sage, and they watched each other for a moment, listening to Katherine sing. He put his hands on his hips, as the two of them shared a bit of a staring contest. Until Sages words broke the moment of silence between them.

“I will do anything for her.. Anything.” Sages eyes squinted, “I’m not trying to get on your bad side or anything.. I just want to make sure what your intentions are with her.”

Bucky watched Sage for another moment, and was starting to understand why she was interrogating him. “My intentions are what they’ve always been.. I intend on marrying Katherine someday.”

“But do you intend on loving her?” Sages words were sharp, and quite clear.

Bucky thought about those words, his eyes looking around the room. It’s not like he was heartless.. But love was never really on the table for him. Love was dangerous. It could be used against him.. Who would ever truly love a man like him anyways?

Sage shook her head, her eyes looking over the photos on the wall, “She deserves to be loved.. Taken care of.. And cherished.” Her lips curved downwards, “She hasn’t gotten much of that. Her mom died too soon, and her dad just became even more of a piece of shit.. Yet somehow, she’s still a ray of sunshine in this shitty world.. and I don’t want anything to diminish that.”

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps closer to them, “I can tell you that she’ll be well taken care of here, Sage.” He offered her a kind smile, before glancing at Bucky, “Even though everyone thinks that Buck is some scary monster.. A hard ass, who has no heart.. There’s a big ole teddy bear under that facade.. And I have a feeling that Katherine’s going to find him.”

Bucky glared at Steve, for saying such mushy words.. But, he could potentially be right.

Sage returned Steve’s smile, “I hope you’re right.. But I still want to know what Bucky’s thoughts are.”

Bucky took in a sharp breath, looking down at his shoes for a moment, trying to think over his words, “Steve’s right. Everyone does see me that way, and they’re not exactly wrong.” His eyes flicked up to Sage, “But I know how to be a gentle man, Sage. I would’ve never made a deal to marry someone, if I didn’t think I could… Be a decent husband.” He let out a soft breath, “I promise you that my intentions with Katherine are genuine. I will take care of her, and maybe we will grow to love each other.”

Sages lips curved up into a wide grin, and she brought her hands together, clapping them. “Well, alright then. Then I have a job for you.”

Both men’s facial expressions changed to one’s of confusion, looking between each other before turning their attention back to Sage.

“Katherine needs to change. She needs to learn that she deserves love.. And I want you to help me do that.”

Before Bucky could respond, the music suddenly stopped.

“Hey Steve, I was wondering if you-“

Katherine had come out of the closet, holding a clothing rod in both of her hands. Her eyes widened slightly, seeing that Bucky was standing there.. Her lips curved up into a sweet smile, their eyes locking. She felt her breath hitch in her throat, admiring his steel blue eyes.

“Hi.” Her voice came out soft, the grin on her face not faltering.

“Hey.” Bucky responded, his lips curving up to return the grin, “Uh, what happened?” He asked, pointing to the rod in her hands.

Katherine looked at it, then chuckled, “Fun fact, if you’re too short to reach something, just ask for help. Or you’ll end up taking down all of the clothes you just hung up.” Everyone in the room began chuckling, though Katherine’s cheeks tinted a light pink shade.

“I’m assuming you were about to ask for my help?” Steve finally asked, still chuckling a bit.

“Yeeaahhh..” Katherine chuckled softly, “It can wait until later..” She hummed for a moment, before looking between the three of them, “So.. What ‘cha guys up to?”

“Oh, I was just interrogating your new boyfriend, of course.” Sage grinned, sending Bucky a knowing look.

Katherine’s blush deepened, “Sage!” She scolded her, “We literally just met yesterday!”

Bucky’s lips turned up into a smirk, “Yeah, and I’m already introducing you to people as my girl.”

Sage raised an eyebrow, Steve tried to stifle a laugh. Katherine’s face was red as a beat, and thank god she didn’t have to come up with anything to say.. Because Annette knocked on the door, her warm smile peering into the room.

“Lunch is ready!” She announced, before motioning for everyone to follow her.

Bucky chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets. His eyes watched as Sage grabbed Katherine’s hand, leading her out of the room. How cute. He couldn’t help the thought, seeing how she reacted to his words. Steve followed behind the girls, and Bucky went right behind him.

———

The next week went.. Well? Bucky had been pretty busy with a bunch of meetings, and Katherine found herself feeling pretty lonely. Sage had gotten stuck working overtime at the hospital, so Katherine didn’t really have anyone to talk to. She did, however, find herself in the kitchen a lot. Annette showed her where everything was, and was delighted to find out that Katherine was a quick learner. Baking, cooking, you name it. Annette started showing her everything that she knew.

“You know, I think Mr. Barnes has a soft spot for brownies..” Annette said, smiling as Katherine took them out of the pan.

“Really?” Katherine’s eyes looked at her, “You think.. You think it’d be okay if I took some up to him?”

Annette nodded, “If the door is closed, just make sure that you knock. But yes, I think he’d be pleasantly surprised.”

Katherine slowly nodded her head, and decided to grab a plate. She put four brownies on it, not knowing who else might be in his study with him.

“I’m going to finish up the laundry, then I’m done for the weekend!” Annette said, as she came around to the side of Katherine, taking a brownie.

“Alright, thank you for your help. Let’s hope that he likes them!”

Katherine took the plate in her hands, and started to make her way through the house. She was a bit nervous about going to Bucky’s study. She hadn't been in there since her first day here, and he’s been so busy lately.. Maybe brownies might be a nice offering. They hadn’t spent hardly any time together, shy of quick ‘Good morning’s before he had meetings. As she walked down the hall to the study, she found that the door was open. Perfect! She hummed softly, deciding to just walk in.

“Hey Bucky, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you.. But I made-“ Her words were cut short by the stares of five men.

Bucky stood at his desk, towering over scattered papers and files, a frustrated expression on his face. Steve stood next to him, the same kind of frustration.. There were three other men gathered in the room, none of which Katherine had met before. As soon as she had stepped into the room, all the men’s eyes snapped up to look at her. It startled her enough to make her stop dead in her tracks. She gripped the plate tightly, her eyes shifting between each man, finally landing on those icy blue orbs.

“Brownies..” Her last word finally came out, her voice much quieter than it started.

Her eyes glanced at all of the papers on the table, and they widened a bit when she realized what they were. Crime Scene Photos. As soon as she had that realization, the photos were all scooped up back into a Manila folder.

“Who the hell are you? Snoopy little bitch..” One of the men voiced, his words sharp. Italian. “Who said you could barge in here?”

Bucky’s head snapped towards him, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Katherine’s voice was first.

“Excuse me? I live here. If I feel like bringing my man some brownies, I’m quite sure I can do just that. And, the door was open.” Her words came out much stronger than she expected, so she kept that strength and walked further into the room. “Learn some manners, bitch.” She walked around to the side of the desk that Bucky was on, and he greeted her with what seemed like a proud smirk.

“You are quite correct, doll.” He hummed, her words feeding his ego a bit. My man. His eyes looked towards the man who voiced against Katherine, “You’re lucky you still have your tongue. Katherine is right, you should learn some manners.. That’s no way to speak to a woman, especially mine.”

Katherine felt a chill run through her, Bucky’s flesh hand resting on the small of her back. She gave him a warm smile, silently thanking him for his words.

The man in question scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Whatever. She just marched in here like she owns the place.”

This time, Bucky’s metal hand reached out. He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, pulling him to be halfway across the desk. Katherine let out a soft gasp, though Bucky’s flesh hand stayed gently on her back. Steve stepped around Bucky, putting Katherine between the two of them.

“Her name might not be on the title yet, but this is her home. And no one will speak to my girl like that. Next time, there will be no warning. Capiche?” Bucky’s voice was loud, commanding.. And it startled Katherine a bit.

The man’s eyes widened, his hand grabbing onto Bucky’s metal one, and he just nodded his head. Bucky finally let go of him, not until his eyes seemed to peer straight into his soul. The man stood up straight, fixing his shirt. Bucky’s gaze softened, turning towards Katherine once more.

“You made brownies?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. His voice was much softer towards Katherine.

She cleared her throat, nodding her head as she held the plate up, “I only brought four.. I wasn’t sure who all was in here..”

Bucky took one, giving her a grin, “Good thing there’s only four of us. Amato, you can leave.” He didn’t even look over to the man as he dismissed him.

The man grumbled something in another language, which Katherine assumed was Italian, before storming out of the room. The other two men looked between each other, before turning to look at Katherine with small smiles.

“Katherine,” Bucky hummed, “These are two of my best men. Clint Barton, and Bruce Banner. Bruce is the head of our science division, and Clint is head of the security team.”

Steve took a brownie as well, “It’s nice to meet you both.” Katherine smiled, extending the plate over the table.

“Likewise.” Clint said, nodding his head as he took a brownie. Bruce took the last one, giving her a nod with a smile.

Katherine watched as all four men began to eat the brownies. She hadn’t even tried one yet, so she wasn’t even sure if they were good or not. Though, based on their silence, and that they continued eating them..

“These are so good, Katherine.” Steve grinned, plopping the last bit of the brownie into his mouth.

“They really are.. Reminds me of my moms.” Clint said, a soft chuckle on his lips as he ate.

Bruce smiled, “Did you make these, or did Annette?”

Katherine couldn’t help but laugh at them, “Annette supervised, and I made them. Found an old recipe we wanted to try.”

Her eyes went up to Bucky’s face, still awaiting a reaction from him. His eyes were closed, as he slowly ate the brownie. A soft hum came from him, as he finished the brownie, his eyes opening to find hers looking at him.

“Delicious.”

Katherine’s lips curved up into a big smile, “I’m glad you guys liked them. I’m starting to really get into baking, maybe I can bring some stuff up for you guys every so often.”

Bucky smiled at her, his hand still on her back, “I think that’s a really nice idea.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment, Clint moving to collect all of the papers on Bucky’s desk. Katherine glanced at them, curious about what they were.. And why that man was so rude to her.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something important.. The door was open, so I-“ Katherine’s words were cut short by Bucky raising his metal hand as if telling her ‘stop’.

“The door was open. You did nothing wrong, doll. Amato needs to learn his place, and keep his trap shut.” Bucky’s fingers on her back slowly began to caress her, sending another chill up her body.

Katherine nodded her head, though it didn’t exactly make her feel better.

“I think it was a shock to him though, hearing you talk to him like that.” Clint said, giving her a grin, “You’ll need that sharp tongue, being in this world.. Especially being Bucks girl.”

Katherine returned the grin, “Anyone who dares to calls me a bitch, will get this sharp tongue. I don’t care who they are. I’ve dealt with a life of assholes, I’m not doing it anymore.”

All four of the men began chuckling, Steve patting Katherine on the shoulder.

“No one will ever treat you badly, doll. If they do, they’ll have to answer for it.” Bucky said, the other men nodding their heads.

Katherine’s eyes looked up to Bucky’s, searching.. All she could see was a strong, kind man. He wasn’t as scary as people made him out to be. He had only been kind to her.. She almost couldn’t believe that there was blood on his hands. She gave him a small smile, nodding her head.

“Alright boys. Now that this is taken care of..” Bucky motioned towards the folders, “I’m done for the weekend. I’ve been putting a few things off, trying to get this done.” His eyes glanced back down to Katherine.

Steve chuckled softly, nodding his head. Bruce nodded his head, “It was nice to meet you Katherine, thanks for the brownie.”

Clint smiled, “Yeah, it was nice to have a snack.”

“Of course.” Katherine smiled to them, watching as all three men walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.

“So…” Bucky cleared his throat.

Katherine raised an eyebrow, turning her body in his hand to face him, “So?”

He let out a soft breath, “I’m sorry that I haven’t spent any time with you, Katherine. Business has just..” he shook his head, “It can be very time consuming at times.”

Katherine shook her head, gently resting her hand on the arm that was still around her, “Don’t. I understand, you’re a very busy man.”

He smiled, lifting the hand from her back to gently caress her cheek with a finger. Katherine’s lips parted ever so slightly, her breath getting caught in her throat.

“Well.. I intend on spending the weekend with you.” He hummed softly, “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

“Is it.. A date?” She asked, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

He chuckled softly, “As long as you want it to be..”

Katherine’s lips curved up into a happy smile, “Well, we’ve got to start somewhere, yeah? I think a date is just what we need.. You need to solidify the fact that you call me your girl.” Her words were meant as obvious teasing.

“Oh? Well, you did come into my study, and call me your man.” His lips quirked into a handsome smirk, “I think we’re on the same page, don’t you?”

“Hmm.. I suppose we’ll see, depending on how well our date goes. Maybe we’ll get somewhere.” Her expression changed to match his.

“Maybe.. I’ll steal our first kiss tonight.” His words were soft, barely above a whisper.

Katherine’s cheeks darkened, “O-Oh yeah?”

“Only if you want me to, of course..” His fingers cupped her face gently, “I don’t want to force you into anything, doll.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.” Her voice was soft, her eyes peering deeply into his.

“I hope not.. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met.”

[skylarmoon71]

Lex Luthor (Smallville) - Short Story : Chapter 6

It’s usually custom to use the door, but some people don’t seem to get that concept.

“Hi there.”

You screeched at the voice, and Clark raced into your room. It probably didn’t help that you’d just gotten out of the shower and you were still standing in a towel. He was in hero mode the minute he stepped inside your room, but the second he caught sight of you dripping wet, it was as if all his brain power had dissolved.

“CLARK!!”

“Sorry!!” He replied. He spun around in the other direction.

“What are you doing!! Catch that freaking hot stranger in my bed!!” You yelled.

Clark’s gaze moved to the brunette and she just smiled.

“Zatanna, nice to meet you.”

She was dressed like a circus performer, holding out a hand.

“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!”

It’s clear that the morning was off to an interesting start.

After getting dressed, you met Clark and his friend downstairs. Clearly annoyed.

“We’ve talked about this, you can’t just show up. Especially at my friend’s house.”

“She’s the one that called me here.” Zatanna reasoned.

“I don’t even know you lady.” You were glaring and she smiled.

“I was summoned by the call of your magic. I thought I was the only gifted being here, but it seems I was wrong.” She was still wearing that knowing smile, and now you took a seat on your couch, clearly trying to follow what she was saying.

“What do you mean by magic? I don’t have magic.”

She was looking at you as if it were a joke, then she started laughing.

“You’re kidding right. Do you really not know that you’re magical? You have empathic abilities, where did you think they came from?”

“The meteor shower.”

“Oh, please. That meteor shower may have been supernatural, but there is so much more out there than our alien friend here.” She pointed to Clark.

“You’re a crossbreed, just like me. I got my powers from my father, but your abilities must have been further down your familial tree. Mages don’t typically manifest one so prominently. It must mean that your other abilities are still growing. “

You weren’t sure if you liked the sound of that. Because you were still struggling to get a grasp on this one.

Zatanna could see your worried look, and she moved closer, patting your arm teasingly.

“Relax, you have me now. I’m a little busy, but I can pop by now and then to show you the ropes. I’m relieved you didn’t turn out to be a lust craze deity like my last trip.”

“A what?”

She brushed it off.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be seeing you both soon.”

You wanted more questions, but you blinked and she was gone.

That was irritating. Your eyes moved to Clark who tensed up from his spot next to your couch.

“Why are all your superhuman friends so weird?”

He just chuckled nervously.

“The next time one of them breaks in I’m shooting you.”

“Why me!!”

“BECAUSE I CAN!!”

Maybe you were still a bit bitter that she’d scared the crap out of you while you were almost naked. You had a right to hold a grudge.

~

Lex wasn’t a stranger to being alone. He’d gotten used to it. The isolation. Although lately he’d become much more used to company. Just not the kind he expected. That’s why he told himself he should have called. You shouldn’t just show up at someone’ s house.

That’s what he thought, but now that he was at your door, he couldn’t turn away now. Sucking in a breath, he knocked twice. He could vaguely hear shuffling, or was that yelling?

The door opened, and the last person he wanted to see was Clark.

The space became quiet.

Too quiet.

“Who’s at the door Clark!!”

You sound so casual and Lex couldn’t help but feel jealous at how familiar you sound as you call Clark.

“It’s Lex.”

His tone was almost emotionless. Lex knew better than to expect anything less.

“Good to see you too, Clark.”

The door opened just a bit wider, and you peeked your head out from under Clark’s arm. For a brief moment his mind forgot about his giant of an ex-best friend. Because of the clear size difference, well, he couldn’t deny that you looked unnaturally cute. Especially with wet hair.

Wait..wet hair?

“Geez, do none of you have a good concept of manners. First Clark almost catches me with the towel down and now you’re randomly showing up.”

Your words caused a shift. Lex wasn’t sure why, but he felt a sense of relief at your explanation. The thought of you with Clark, it..it didn’t sit well with him.

You pushed Clark out the door and he stumbled, looking at you incredulously. Lex moved to the side, obviously not expecting it either.

“Go and find your weird friend and tell her not to pop up in my bedroom again.” You said taking Lex’s hand as you guided him inside.

“Come on Lex, at least you don’t have your millionaire friends sneaking into my bedroom.”

“It’s not my fault she’s crazy!!” Clark called.

“Goodbye Clark!”

You closed the door in his face, and Lex just stood there, trying to process what happened.

“Did you really just kick him out?”

“Wanna join him?”

“No ma’am.”

“Good, make yourself at home, I was just about to have lunch.”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Oh,”

You supposed talking to that witch messed with your plans.

“A snack it is.”

You turned to the kitchen and Lex followed behind hesitantly. He’d never been inside your house. This wasn't exactly how he pictured his first visit.

“(Y/N)..”

Clark’s whiny voice on the other side of your door pulled you back.

“What, why are you still here!!”

“Let me in!”

You huff.

You wanted to hang out with Lex, but you didn’t want two of them glaring at each other the entire afternoon.

“Fine, I’ll let you in, but you play nice with Lex.”

There’s a prolonged silence on the other side.

“Fine.”

You smile, and Lex is anything if not impressed.

“It’s open.” You call.

He turned the knob, stepping in, clearly mad that you hadn’t even bothered to lock it just to torment him.

It was definitely going to be an interesting evening. 

[spnhunter4life]

End Up Here

Summary: It's a typical night out for Emily. Friday night. A bar. Some of her closest friends. She expects to have a few hours of fun before heading home. She doesn't expect the handsome stranger that catches her attention so thoroughly, she just can't seem to look away. And she definitely doesn't expect him to look back.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: This story is very different from anything else I've written, so I hope people still enjoy! This is my attempt at a non-hunting AU. It's going to be pretty happy, relaxed, and drama free.

Series Masterlist Masterlist

“You’re coming out with us tonight, right?” Rose, my coworker asked. We were currently sitting at the table in the office building, eating our lunch. “Please?” She added, seeing my hesitation. “We all really want you to come.”

She had made plans with three more of our coworkers to meet up at a bar tonight.

“Alright,” I sighed. “I’ll come. But I can’t stay out too late. Some of us actually have to be back here in the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re all about being to bed at a ‘decent time.’ Honestly, Emily, it’s ok to let loose every now and then. Live a little. You’re an adult. It’s ok to stay up late and have fun with your friends.”

“Of course it’s ok. But if you want me to be able to function in the morning, it’s not smart.”

“You’re just so… I don’t know. Responsible? It’s kind of disgusting. And boring,” Rose teased. She wasn’t being mean. We’d been friends for years, and it never failed to disappoint her when I prioritized sleep over having fun. It’s something she just couldn’t understand. She was a ‘live in the moment and deal with the consequences’ kind of person, whereas I tended to care more about not being miserable the next day.

That’s not to say I never stayed out late and had a good time. But when I knew I had work in the morning, it just wasn’t worth it. 

“Yep. That’s me. Disappointment and killer of good times.” I checked the time on my phone and realized I needed to be getting back outside to get ready for the next class. I gathered up the containers from my lunch and threw them back into the bag I had brought them in. “I’ll be at your house at 7:30,” I told Rose. Then I walked out the door and started bringing up horses.

~~~~~

I got done with work just after 6. I hadn’t updated the rider files from the last class yet, but I could do that tomorrow. I needed to get home if I wanted to be at Rose’s house at the time I’d promised.

“Come on, Bug!” I called to my dog when I stepped back inside the office. Her real name was Ziggy. Bug was just an affectionate nickname that I used a lot. I picked up her bowls that I kept by the door. I heard the tinkling of the name tag on her collar and the pitter patter of her tiny feet as she rushed over to greet me. She ran in circles around my legs, whining in excitement and occasionally stopping to jump up. 

You’d think she’d been alone all day rather than in an office that always had one or two people around and where I came to check on her multiple times throughout the day. She even got to sit in my lap during my break. That’s just how she was though. Any amount of time spent away from me was utterly unacceptable. 

“Let’s go home.” I picked her up, locked the door behind me and then carried her to the car. 

The first thing I did when I got home was hop in the shower. It always felt good to wash off all of the sweat, dirt, horse hair, and mix of horse saliva and snot – walking in a dusty arena meant lots of sneezing horses and they usually got it all over me – I came home covered in.

After my shower I changed into a new, clean outfit and put some gel in my hair. I found some leftovers in the fridge that I heated up and ate quickly before finishing getting ready. I took Ziggy outside and made sure she had food and water before getting back in the car and driving to the house Rose and two of her friends rented together.

“Hey, Mandy,” I greeted the brunette who opened the door and invited me in. I wouldn’t go as far as calling Mandy and Rose’s other roommate Lindsey my friends, but we saw each other enough that we were familiar and comfortable with each other. “Is Rose almost ready?”

“Yeah, I think so. She should be out any minute.”

“I’m coming!” I heard Rose’s voice call from up the stairs. She hurried down, putting one of her earrings in as she walked. She looked me up and down, less than impressed with my outfit, I knew. 

“That’s what you’re wearing?” She asked. I thought the jeans and band t-shirt I had on looked just fine. They weren’t going to win me any dates – especially when compared to Rose’s ripped skinny jeans and tank top, not to mention the effort she’d put into her hair and makeup – but we weren’t trying to meet guys. It was just supposed to be a night out with friends. I told her as much and she rolled her eyes and opened the door. 

She only lived six blocks away from the bar we were going to so we were just walking. There was no point in driving there when it likely wouldn’t be safe for her to drive back. I knew I wouldn’t be staying as late as everyone else, so I wasn’t about to offer to drive. She could walk or get an uber ride.

“You really are no fun. Just because that’s not the goal doesn’t mean someone won’t catch your eye.”

“And if someone does catch my eye I should abandon my friends to talk to him?” I asked.

“Absolutely! On behalf of everybody, if you see someone you like, please do! I probably shouldn’t. I’m at least getting myself out there and going on dates regularly. But you? When’s the last time you actually went out with someone? I know I sound like a broken record here, but I’m going to say it again. Live a little.”

“It’s not like I refuse to date. I just rarely ever even meet single guys my age. And the few I do meet are usually not worth the time.”

“And what exactly would make a guy worth the time?” She asked. I just smiled.

“I don’t know. But I’ll let you know once I figure it out.”

~~~~~

Our other coworkers – Lauren, Morgan, and Natalie – were sitting in a booth waiting for us when we got to the bar. 

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Nat exclaimed when we walked in. “And you managed to convince Emily to come! Miracles do happen.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I rolled my eyes at the teasing.

“Don’t get too excited,” Rose warned them. “Grandma here doesn’t plan on having more than one or two drinks and she said she has to leave by 11.”

“What? Come on, Emily, we’re supposed to be out having a good time! You know, team bonding and all that jazz,” Lauren protested. “You can’t stay out later than that?”

“For the record, 11 is late,” I said. There was a round of groans from everybody. “It is! It’s already later than I’m usually up, and I still have to get home. And I have to be able to work in the morning.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Lauren answered.

“Yeah, but I’ve got work to do with the horses that I didn’t have time for this week.”

“Like what? Could it wait just a couple more days?” Morgan asked. She was the peacemaker of the group, and even though no one was upset, she probably figured she’d get ahead of things in case that’s where it was headed. “I’m not trying to pressure you. It’s just sometimes I think you work too hard. It’s ok to take a break.”

“Like I need to check Domino’s saddle. He seemed like he was maybe a little sore today and I just want to make sure it’s still fitting the way it should. Penny has decided that the east corner of the arena is terrifying ever since we planted that new tree there last weekend so I need to work with her on that, and I still haven’t gotten Finn desensitized to wheelchairs yet. And you might have noticed how dusty the arena is getting. I need to water it down. Plus, the waterers could all stand to be cleaned.”

“Ok, yes. All important stuff,” Nat admitted. “But it’s not like you have to be there at 8 a.m. You could go in the afternoon.”

“We’ll see,” I said. I wasn’t likely to change my mind, but it wasn’t worth arguing about now.

“That’s about enough talk about work,” Rose said. “We’re here to have fun, remember? Whattaya say we all get something to drink and get this night started?”

“Yes please,” Lauren agreed.

We left our booth and walked past the dance floor to the bar. The bartender was already busy with another small group of people. We talked while we waited and I turned my back to the bar, scanning the crowd for any familiar faces. The other girls were absolutely going to want to dance tonight, and while I might participate for a short time if they really pushed it, dancing really wasn’t my thing. I was hoping to find someone I might talk to while they were busy.

“So, let’s be honest. What do we all think of Hannah’s new boyfriend? Think it’ll last?” Lauren asked. Hannah was one of two coworkers who wasn’t with us tonight. He’d come by the other day to pick her up after a meeting.

“Hmm. I’m not sure yet. We only saw the guy for about five minutes. But based on what Hannah has said… maybe. She’s not overwhelmingly excited about him, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t work out,” I said.

“Mm, I don’t know. It’s a new relationship. If she’s not excited about him in the brand new, beginning, exciting part of it, how’s she going to feel in a few weeks? Or months?” Rose chipped in. 

Morgan had just started to offer her opinion when I noticed the door opening out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see who it was out of habit. This wasn’t the first person to walk through the door since we’d been standing here. He was the first person that I gave more than a passing glance though. 

If it weren’t for the well worn jeans and jacket he was wearing, I could’ve sworn he’d walked straight off the cover of some magazine. He was easily, without question, the most attractive man I’d ever seen in my entire life. In fact, the word ‘gorgeous’ came to mind. It wasn’t a word I usually associated with men, and yet, I couldn’t deny the truth of it.

I watched as he made his way past the tables and booths towards the dancefloor, heading – I assumed – for the bar. I also noted the appreciative stares of nearly every woman he passed. I couldn’t say I blamed them.

“Emily,” Morgan said, not for the first time judging by her tone. “What are you having?”

“Sorry,” I said, turning around to face the bar. “I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri.”

I tuned back into the conversation as we waited for our drinks. The topic had switched – much to Lauren’s annoyance – from Hannah’s new boyfriend to an old boyfriend of Lauren’s that we’d all really liked and were disappointed it didn’t work out with. 

“New subject please,” she ordered. 

I tried to come up with a new topic, but was distracted by the extremely attractive man walking up and leaning against the bar just a few seats away, waiting for the bartender to come take his order. I watched as he scanned the room, much as I had been doing a minute ago, only with an obvious disinterest. It seemed to be more just something to do while he waited. 

His gaze made its way over to where our little group was standing. Like an idiot, I didn’t look away. I was so used to being the quiet, relatively unnoticed bystander that it didn’t even cross my mind that he might notice me. His eyes locked with mine and he smiled. I quickly looked away, feeling my embarrassment announce itself in a rush of heat to my cheeks. Was that a polite smile? Flirty? Smugness at my obvious staring? 

I gratefully grabbed my drink when the bartender handed it to me and we all walked back to the booth we’d claimed earlier. I took a large drink of my daiquiri and focused as hard as I could on the conversation in an attempt to forget what just happened.

Unfortunately, despite my efforts, my focus was tenuous at best. From where I was sitting I had a perfect view of the bar and the gorgeous man as one at a time, two different women sat beside the seat he had apparently taken for the night and flirted with him. I also watched as one after another, those women walked away disappointed.

“Who are you staring at so hard?” Morgan asked, the first to notice my inattentiveness. I was making an attempt to join in the conversation, but apparently I hadn’t done a good enough job participating. Or – the more likely option, I suppose – she had just noticed my staring. Frankly, I was being very rude. I’d barely looked away from the man in the last hour.

I watched in horror as the heads of every one of my colleagues turned in the direction I’d been looking in. Lauren let out a low, appreciative whistle. I heard Natalie breathe out a wow.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Rose said.

“Don’t you dare!” I hissed, grabbing her hand before she could stand up.

“What? Not for me, for you,” she clarified. “We’ve all been holding our breath for the day you finally meet someone. And I know you’re not going to go introduce yourself. Let me help you out.”

“No. Just because he’s good looking doesn’t mean he’s worth talking to. Besides, this is our night out. Team bonding,” I said with the smallest hint of put-on enthusiasm.

“I think I speak for all of us when I say we’d be ok with you bailing out on this one,” Nat said. Rose gave me an ‘I told you so’ look. “Especially for someone who looks like that.”

“Seriously guys, no. I mean it. If you go over there and talk to him then… I’m… just… I’ll leave,” I threatened. “I’d rather go home than sit through that.” 

It’s not that I didn’t want to meet the man. I did. Badly. But I wasn’t ok with my friends going up to a complete stranger on my behalf. That was just sad. Plus, old fashioned as it was, my shyness meant I was a big believer in letting the guy make the first move. 

“Ok,” Rose relented. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was that upsetting to you.”

“Thanks for offering,” I said. “It’s just not why I’m here tonight. And I don’t know what I’d say to him anyway.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lauren smirked. “Except maybe ‘my place or yours’. I think that should about cover it.”

“Moving on,” I ordered, which was met by a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, don’t freak out on me now,” Lauren said as she stood up. “I’m going up to the bar, but I’m not talking to him. I need another drink. Anyone else?”

I’d already had two drinks and didn’t want another, but I did ask for water. Everybody else wanted another drink, so Natalie offered to go with Lauren and help carry everything back. I kept a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t talk to the guy. I watched as he stood from his chair for the first time since he sat down and turned to scan the room again. This time I had the sense to turn away before he caught me looking. 

Lauren and Natalie came back with the drinks and when I looked back in the direction of the bar, I saw that he had moved to the dartboard.

We talked and laughed for another 45 minutes – I hadn’t looked in the good looking guy’s direction even once during this time – and I was glad that, despite my hesitations, I’d agreed to come out tonight. That is, until Rose decided it was time to start dancing. Everybody eagerly agreed and started shuffling off to the dance floor. Only Morgan noticed my reluctance.

“You coming?” She asked.

“Nah. You guys go ahead. I’m not really up for dancing.” The chances of me agreeing to it on a normal night were slim to none. I was not what you might call a gifted dancer and I always felt as stupid as I was sure I looked. But tonight there was absolutely no way I could build up the courage for it. Even though it had been close to two hours ago now, being caught staring by Mr. Leather Jacket left me feeling extremely self conscious. 

“Are you sure? I’m sure everybody would come back if they knew you weren’t up for it. Or I can stay and talk with you.”

“I appreciate that, but don’t worry about it. I’m not going to be the reason the rest of you don’t get to do something you find fun on your night out. I promise I’ll be ok by myself for a little while.”

“Emily, Morgan, get out here!” Rose called. Morgan hurried over to join them. I saw Rose looking at me expectantly and I waved her off. She gave me a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look and came back to the booth.

“Come on!” She encouraged. “We’re dancing!”

“I can see that.”

“We’d like you to join us.”

“You know I don’t dance.”

“Of course you do,” she insisted, grabbing my hands and pulling me with her. “You just don’t love to do it in public.”

“That implies that I’ll do it in private. I can assure you, that’s not true either.” I pulled my hands out of hers and backed up to the wall. “I’ll just watch.”

“Can you please just come with? We don’t want you to be left out. I promise no one is going to be watching and judging you.”

“First of all, believe me, that’s what I tell myself. And I know it’s true, but I still can’t convince myself of that. Secondly, can you please believe that I’m being sincere when I tell you that I honestly don’t mind sitting back?”

“Alright, fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll let it go. For now. But you’re going to have to join us at some point.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything in response. She turned around and walked back to our group of friends on the dance floor.

“I’ll be back for you in a little bit,” she warned over her shoulder. I didn’t bother contradicting her.

I walked back to our table to grab my water and then, deciding I’d been sitting long enough, moved back over to stand by the wall. I leaned against it and watched all the people that were dancing. I felt a surge of jealousy at how carefree they were and how every single one of them seemed to be competent dancers. If I wasn’t so hopeless at it, I’d be more inclined to join. 

After a few minutes of watching, I remembered my earlier idea and took another scan of the room, searching for a familiar face. I didn’t see anyone in the table area and turned my gaze to the bar. When my eyes passed over the good looking guy I’d been preoccupied with all night, I saw woman number three – or was it four? – leaving his side with a dejected look on her face.

I finished my search, not seeing anyone I knew in the crowd. I decided to steal one more look at the man, only to find him already looking at me. I froze, unsure what to do. He smiled and pushed off the bar, walking towards me.

Tags: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!) @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

[barkspawn]

maybe elliott finding out the farmer is an avid fanfic writer or something but never mentioned it due to the fact people often don't see fanfics as valid fiction.

*** This is a comment on the FIRST post asking for one-shot requests and I'm horrid and forgot ***

@shirofluff

Hi dont hate me here it is

Amelia's phone has been buzzing like mad today. She had to turn the sound off so it didn't drive her insane. She had finished her farmwork fairly quickly thanks to the sprinklers she was finally able to afford. Nothing was quite ready for harvest, but definitely would be soon. 

She sighed as she pulled her phone out to check the time, pleased to see that the hits on her story started to slow. Someone who was very well-known had shared a small bit of it and the rest of the fanbase jumped on it quickly. 

Thankfully, Elliott would be there in about an hour, giving her plenty of time to shower, or so she thought. She took longer than she intended to get ready to actually shower and once she got in, the hot water felt so good that she didn't want to get out. 

Before she knew it, she heard Elliott call out as he came into the house, “Amelia?”

She cursed under her breath before calling back, “I'm in the shower!” 

She got moving, focusing first on washing her hair. She heard Elliott walk to the door, giving the frame a gentle knock, “want me to sit with you? Or I can wait out here.”

She couldn't help but smile, humming at the feeling of the hot water washing away the shampoo, “that's up to you, love. I’d invite you to join me if we weren't pressed for time.”

He laughed softly, coming into the bathroom and leaning against the sink. 

“Don’t tempt me, my muse,” he teased. He couldn’t see through the glass, per se, but he could see a clear outline of her. It had to be one of his favorite views. 

The couple had been dating now for almost a year, growing inseparable. For Amelia, there was no question that they were meant to be together. The very moment they met, it was like she was talking to an old friend. She’d never felt so moved or invested in anything as much as his writing. But when he kissed her for the first time? She knew he was it. 

Her phone buzzed again, loud against the porcelain of the sink. She groaned as she started to rinse the soap from her body, “sorry, just social media going crazy. You can turn it off if you’d like.”

He hummed, picking up her phone and touching the power button before the notification caught his eye. 

“ New comment on The Runaway: Ch. 17: I love your writing! The way that Rayt…”

His brows pulled together in confusion, the door to the shower opening, Amelia standing there with a bright smile. His expression, however, caused her smile to fall as she reached for her towel, starting to dry her hair, “El, what’s wrong?”

He took a long moment before setting her phone down, which immediately buzzed again. His eyes met hers, and though he very much wanted to take in the beauty of the naked woman in front of him, he couldn’t seem to figure out what to feel. 

“You… write?” 

She blinked, realization taking the place of her confusion, “oh, uh, not really,” she commented, her voice small. It felt silly to be embarrassed but Elliott was a real, published author. She wrote stories about characters from her favorite comic online, “just little things about Cave Saga X.”

“Oh,” he watched her carefully as she dried herself off, “so are they reviews for them?”

She cursed her phone for buzzing again, not quite meeting Elliott’s eye, “well, no. They’re like short stories with the characters in it and one of my own that I’ve created.”

Elliott nodded slowly, understanding falling over his features, “may I read some?”

She looked over at him, an almost terrified look washing over her, “El, it’s not anything special… you don’t have—“

“Darling,” he stopped her, walking over and cupped her face, “I know what fanfiction is,” he leaned in to kiss her forehead, “why haven’t you told me?”

She toyed with his lapel, meeting his eyes as he spoke. Something in them eased her. She took a deep breath before answering honestly, “because you’re this incredible, talented, successful author and I write short stories on the internet for a character from something I didn’t write.”

He sighed as he understood, offering her a kind smile, “my love, you write. You created a whole character, gave them a story, love, and life. You put pen to paper and wrote their lives,” she bit her lower lip as her cheeks, neck, and her ears grew pink at his kindness, “Some writers think lowly of fanfiction and that’s just pretentious,” he leaned in and smiled at her brightly, “personally, I’d love to read it.”

She leaned up and pressed a small kiss to the corner of his lips, “only if you promise not to laugh…” 

“You know I wouldn’t ever laugh at your work, no matter what it may be.”

She took a deep breath, slipping her hands down into his, “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just hard to compare, you know?” She gave a small, apologetic smile, “it’s a little long, so if you’d like to read it tonight, that’d be okay.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, “that would be fine, though you know I am a fast reader.”

She laughed, wrapping her hair up in the towel once she was dry. 

“Although it’s very possible I would be a bit distracted,” he teased, moving his fingers gently over her hip before she slapped it away. 

“El, as much as I would like to stay home and do everything running through that beautiful mind,” she shifted to put her bra on, “we are going to be late to the festival.”

“They say being late can be fashionable, you know,” he teased, guiding her against him with his hands on her hips before bending to press a kiss to her neck. 

She let out a breathy laugh before pulling back, “love, I promise we can do literally anything you want after the fair,” she leaned up to kiss the corner of his lips, “you know I have to kick Pierre’s ass today. My display needs to be perfect.”

Elliott smiled, handing her the shirt from beside him, “I will be taking you up on that, my muse,” he hummed, leaning against the sink. He thought for a long moment before offering a smile, “perhaps I can read your work while you get set up?”

“You could start to,” she hummed, admittedly still nervous, “as I said, it’s gotten to be a bit long.”

He watched as she got dressed, his mind a blur of questions that he would wait to ask. 

“You say that like it’s turned into a novel. Is it that long?” He inquired, following behind her to offer any help he could to assist in her getting ready. 

She laughed, “well, kind of, I guess,” she started, hoisting her bag over her shoulder before slipping her hand into Elliott’s, “it’s running about 113,000 words so far, I think.”

Elliott paused in his walking for just a moment as they descended the stairs out of the house, “darling, that… is a novel and then some.”

He saw heat rise through her face, a smile creeping at his lips as he stepped to her, “you are a remarkable woman, love. You never cease to amaze me,” he bent and stole her lips in a too-brief kiss, “I also seem to have forgotten to say good morning properly.”

She laughed, shaking her head as her voice came out a little breathlessly, “you know, if I knew telling you that I write occasionally would earn more of this… sudden affection,” she teased, “I’d have told you the day I met you.”

He laughed and squeezed her hand, “there would have been chaos, darling. I was already taken by you and to know that would simply have brought me to my knees.”

“Oh, I could make that work,” she hummed, a devilish smirk playing on her lips as they passed the bus stop. 

He slipped a hand down into the back pocket of her jeans before humming just loud enough so she heard, “if I have to behave so do you.”

She shot him a look as he moved his hand back to her waist. Her smile returned as they got to the fair, “I don’t think you want to play that game with me, El.”