#considering he put Buck in his will without asking I’m sure he’d marry him too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harryspet · 5 years ago

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welcome to eden | steve rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stepford wives au, wife!reader, marriage au, institutional misogyny, wealthy!steve, housewives au, stepfordization, mind control/brainwashing, forced gender roles, breeding kink, oral sex (male recieving), vaginal sex (wear a condom, kids!), bad editing :)

A/N: i just love the concept of this! i was told this was done before but I hope you all like my interpretation!

THIS STORY CONTAINS TRIGGERING CONTENT

In which the neighborhood you and your husband Steve move into isn’t like anywhere else on earth. The women are flawless and the men are way too happy.

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taglist: @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @marvelslut-musicalnerd @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @charmed-asylum @fishwaterr @marvelsswansong @nsfwsebbie

word count: 4.8k

“Now that we actually own this place it feels different. You still don’t think this is all a little much?”

Steve lifted the cardboard box you were holding from your hands, starting to make his way into the house, “It’s perfect, pumpkin.”

Eden.

You were now homeowners in the most luxurious and exclusive neighborhood in upstate New York. Howard Stark created this safe haven in the sixties and people now knew it as “heaven on earth”.

You followed him inside the fortress of a house, knowing he was smiling wide. Even in your wildest dreams you never imagined that you would live in a place like this. There were so many rooms that you’d run out of ideas for what to do with them. The massive foyer was twice as big as the home you grew up in.

Perfect marble floors, a winding staircase that reminded you of a castle, and a ginormous chandelier that was no doubt made of real diamonds. You followed Steve as he made his way into the kitchen which was, again, made for the Gods. You’d never been good at cooking but now you felt you had to start giving it a try just because of how nice it was.

It had three ovens! Who in the world needs three ovens? “I don’t think we even have enough stuff to fill the house, Steve.”

He set the box onto the counter and you were reminded of the small number of things inside compared to the amount of cabinet space, “We’ll buy more things. Lots of things! You have my card, you can order whatever you want online,” You took a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed even by the thought of decorating this place, “Hey now, c’ mere. This is supposed to be a happy day.”

You walked into his embrace, letting his strong arms wrap around you as you leaned your head against his hard chest, “I am happy,” You made sure to say though you weren’t convinced this house would ever feel normal, “And I’m grateful. I really am, Steve.”

Steve’s big promotion in security at Stark Industries was unexpected but of course, you were happy for him. You just didn’t expect he’d suddenly be making millions and, since the two of you were married now, that you’d have to make the move with him and start looking for new jobs in the city. He’d do the same for you so you felt it was your duty to suck it up and try to make things work.

You looked up at him and a soft smile was on his kind face. He leaned down to press a comforting kiss to your forehead. You tilted up to kiss him. He deepened it and, like you always liked, the passion you’d felt with him escalated the situation.

Suddenly, Steven lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his hands on your waist and started to explore beneath your shirt, “This is going to be so good for us,” He spoke huskily against your lips, “What do you say we christen the new place?”

You nodded eagerly as he began to kiss your neck, “One good thing is we’ll probably never run out of places to have sex in a house this big,” Steve chuckled at your words. For a moment, his kisses took away the anxiety you were feeling. Change is only a part of life and it was something you’d just have to get used to. Luckily, you had Steve by your side to get through it all.

“Plenty of space for kids as well,” He said and you assumed it was an attempt to turn you on. You gripped his muscular arms tightly as he

“Mhm, put a baby in me, Steve,” You played along, knowing that you were on birth control and that was unlikely to happen anytime soon. Steve was dying to be a father but you agreed before you got married that you would enjoy your marriage to each other before you considered having kids, “Please, Steve.”

You knew that would send him over the edge and only seconds later he was pulling down your bottoms and pushing himself between your legs. Before you two could get really hot and heavy, the doorbell rang and left you both frozen.

Steve helped you off the counter and you were quickly trying to pull up your yoga pants as Steve zipped up his jeans, “Edith, who’s at the door?” Steve asked which caught you off guard. The mansion was also a smart house, equipped with artificial intelligence that Mr. Stark had developed.

“James and Natasha Barnes, sir. Would you like me to let them in?” There were small monitors throughout the house including the kitchen. It lit up when the door rang with a picture of the couple standing at the front door.

“Yes, Edith. Thank you,” Steve turned back to you, not with frustration that their moment had been interrupted, but with a mischievous smile, “We’ll finish what we started later.”

You nodded, forcing a smile as he grabbed your hand. The two of you walked to the foyer which was a trip within itself due to the size of the house.

Bucky was one of Steve’s friends that you were never quite sure of. He’d known Steve for way longer than you so you never thought it was your place to ask questions about their relationship. Bucky just seemed to bring out Steve’s impulsive side and you preferred Steve when he was cool and level headed.

Nat, on the other hand, you loved her.

“Welcome to Eden, Rogers family,” Bucky announced, his voice booming through the foyer as they came into view. Already, something was off and it wasn’t because of the new environment. Bucky was clad in his suburban husband get-up, like he’d been golfing all day and Natasha looked like she was preparing to go to some old-fashioned garden party. You’d never seen her wear a sundress and never seen her smile so wide.

“Thanks, Buck,” You heard Steve say, going to hug his best friend.

As you walked up to embrace Natasha, she even felt different. As you pulled back, you searched her face for something missing, “Wow, your eyes are beautiful,” She said, still beaming. Her red hair was now blonde and reached down past her shoulders. Her skin was bright and her makeup, which she didn’t normally wear, was done to perfection.

“Thank you,” You spoke, unsure of why she was just now noticing. Besides that, you didn’t think they were anything special, “You look great … so new.” You laughed awkwardly as you took a step back. Bucky placed a hand on the small of her back and she gazed back at him lovingly.

“Honey, you act like you haven’t met Y/N a million times,” Bucky grinned towards you, trying to ease the awkwardness.

“Of course,” Natasha agreed immediately. You couldn’t help but think her tone was lacking a certain emotion, “I love spending time with Y/N. It’s so nice to have girl friends, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, appearing from basically nowhere, she pulled out a dish. It was a pound cake and she presented it to you with a smile that was now starting to make you uncomfortable, “A house warming gift,” Bucky added as you accepted it, “Natasha has been taking up baking.”

“That’s very sweet,” You said and Steve added a thanks.

“You two should stay. Let us give you a tour!” Steve clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Sure,” You agreed, “Stay for dinner. We can order pizza.”

“Order? Pizza?” Natasha was smiling but her head cocked to the side in confusion. Bucky responded by grabbing her hand and, again, she looked up at him with loving eyes.

“That sounds delicious, Y/N,” Bucky said, ignoring his wife.

You rubbed moisturizer on your face as you looked back into your bathroom mirror. The room was the size of a regular room and the closet was basically an apartment within itself. Steve came from behind you, his hands on your waist as he pressed himself into you.

“Should we continue where we left off?” He asked as you grabbed a hold of your toothbrush.

His hands were still roaming over your body as you began to brush your teeth before bed. You didn’t answer his question, your mind far away, “You don’t think Nat was acting super off today?” You asked after spitting toothpaste into the sink, “I mean, quitting her job. Suddenly wanting to be a stay at home Mom? She just got a promotion a few months ago.”

Through the mirror, Steve gave you a look that told you he was about to play devil’s advocate, “She didn’t seem that different to me. I think she realized what she actually wanted after the move.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rinsed off your toothbrush, “Are you being serious, Steve?”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Realizing he was not getting anything tonight, he stepped back with his hands in the air, “You never know about these things. People change. Who knows, maybe our priorities will change too.”

You scoffed, turning off the water, “My only priority right now is landing the Cosmopolitan contract. I can think about priorities once I’m working again,” You walked past Steve, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss his cheek, but he still had a defeated look on his face, “Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.”

You barely had time to enjoy your bowl of cereal milk before there was another ring at the doorbell. Without looking up from his bowl, Steve explained that he made plans for you and Natasha to spend the day together. You knew he was working on convincing you that this entire move was a great idea. Of course, you didn’t have time to protest because the new blonde was now impatiently honking the horn of the golf cart in your driveway.

As soon as you stepped out of the house, you realized you were underdressed once again. Her attire today was a sundress full of blue flowers and beautiful pearls to go around her neck, “Good morning, sunshine!” She beamed as you climbed into the passenger seat. She looked over your regular t-shirt and jeans with a smile but you could tell she didn’t understand the way you were dressing, “It’s such a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Yeah-”

“I know! I love gardening on days like this,” She suddenly pressed the gas and you were on your way. You were still figuring out what exactly happened to your friend since the last time she saw you but she could only seem to talk about gardening, “Bucky loves the flowers I plant. I put them in this gorgeous vase so he can look at them while he’s eating his favorite breakfast. It’s nice to have nice things to look at.”

Natasha showed you every house in the neighborhood, explaining what nuclear family lived in each house, “How come you know everyone who lives here? You never seemed like the type to ... “

“Oh, we all know each other in Eden. It’s like a family! Isn’t that sweet?”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod this time. You were starting to notice that every person we passed seemed … flawless. All the wives were perfectly dressed, wearing heels, and had neatly pinned hair. All the husbands looked way too happy.

You passed a golf course and soon arrived at the clubhouse where you’d be attending a book club meeting. You were a reader yourself so the idea of that gave you some hope that you wouldn’t feel totally out of place today.

That hope dissipated quickly when you stepped into the room. On a landing overlooking a pool, a group of flawless looking women sat in a circle like they were having a tea party rather than a book club meeting.

They were all happy to meet you and Natash introduced you to everyone. Instead of their names, she started with their husband’s. There was Sam’s wife Sharon, Vision’s wife Wanda, Thor’s wife Val, Clint’s wife Laura and most importantly-

“Pepper!” The group of women erupted with cheers as the matriarch entered the room. You’d recognize Tony Wife’s anywhere just from the tabloids. She was pretty much America’s favorite wife, writing self-help books, and posing on the cover of home decor magazines.

“Good morning, ladies,” She moved like a cloud, floating through the room as she commanded everyone’s attention. She took a second look at you as she made her way to her chair, “Steve’s wife Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you and, wow, you have such beautiful eyes. Welcome to the book club!”

The room erupted in giggles and clapping once again. You felt you were in some sort of simulation, like a social prank and you were waiting for some tv show host to come out and reveal that all these people were paid actors.

Pepper continued, crossing her ankles as she flattened out the skirt of her purple colored dress, “I hope you are all feeling like I am. My husband is happy, the kids are happy, my friends are happy and that. Makes. Me. Overjoyed,” Her words put them in a trance and they seemed even more robot-like than they already were, “I only want to add to that feeling so today we are discussing a highly anticipated book.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but you clearly weren’t on the same page as everyone else. Natasha nudged your side, giddy as ever, “I present to you ladies, Melanie Winkle’s Christmas Baking Book!” Now you were positive that you were in a simulation, “Christmas is a few months away but the season is so busy that I think we should get an early start this year. Who knows how many dance recitals, charity fundraisers, and Christmas parties we will all attend this winter? Too many to count! This book is going to change all of our lives.”

Natasha leaned into your ear, “I love Christmas, don’t you?”

“Nat?” Her eyes widened with curiosity, “Blink twice if someone is holding you hostage.”

She didn’t blink at all, “You’re silly, Y/N. You always make me laugh, don’t you?”

The next week passed in a blur. You had no idea how many brain dead women you had met or how many times Steve had told you that you were crazy for stressing over the Natasha situation. Tomorrow, you had an interview and you could finally leave the neighborhood and be around people who didn’t only care about knitting and Christmas decorations.

Before you could have your sweet escape, your limit was met.

You were attending a yoga class led by Pepper that Natasha had brought you to. It was an otherwise normal experience despite Pepper chanting about how true peace is reached when your “home is happy”.

The class was in a cat’s pose when Wanda suddenly fell down to her stomach. The class froze and you rushed to her side. Your heart racing, you placed a hand on her back to check to see what was wrong. You brushed her hair from her facing, seeing that her eyes were wide open and she was saying, “I love my husband. I love my family. I love my husband. I love my family,” She kept repeating those two phrases over and over, her gaze completely empty.

You felt Natasha’s hand on your arm, trying to guide you away.

“She’s going to be just fine, girls,” Pepper said calmly like the woman wasn’t having a nervous breakdown, “Us women are so delicate, with the yoga and the hot weather outside, she must be overheating. Natasha, will you lead the girls into the other room?”

“I think she needs medical attention,” You interjected, staring around the room to find a like mind.

“Tony can help her,” Pepper smiled.

“She needs a doctor!” The room went silent before the wives began to whisper.

“I love my husband. I love my husband. I love- I love- It’s a lovely day outside, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“We will get her the help she needs, do not worry,” Piper continued, folding her arms in front of her.

Natasha pulled your arm harder this time, “Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

You left the room with a feeling of complete uncertainty and as soon as Natasha was out of your site, you stormed up the spiral stairs to find Steve’s office, “Steve!” You shouted his name as you speedily walked through the long hallway. You pushed open the two, large, oak doors that led into the study and stormed inside, “Steve Rogers, I am done!”

Steve looked up from his desk and Tony turned to face you from his place in the chair in front of his desk.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Steve stood from his chair, concerned.

You stared at Tony Stark, not with awe because he was the most famous engineer in the world, but with anger, “I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you, Y/N,” Tony stood next, fixing the buttons on his suit jacket, “Steve tells me you’re a photographer. Quite a talented one.”

You eyed him carefully, somehow knowing that he was the source of all that was wrong here, “I need to talk to my husband, alone, if you don’t mind.”

Steve’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, “Y/N,” He said with a warning, trying to tell you not to be rude, “This is my boss-” “It’s quite alright, I know an angry wife when I see one. I enjoyed our conversation, Mr. Rogers, and I think we’re on the same page now,” Tony approached you, a smug look on his face, “I hope to see you around, sweetheart. Oh, and again, welcome to Eden.”

As he left the room, you became even more frustrated, “You can’t talk to me like that in front of my boss, Y/N.”

“Steve,” You walked closer to his desk, “Listen to me. It’s only been a week and I am losing my mind. The people here are … are robots! They’re old-fashioned and daft, especially the wives. Nat used to be smart and cunning and now all she can talk about are gardening magazines!”

“Gardening is a very relaxing hobby-”

“Oh, please,” You crossed your arms, “That woman was on her way to being a CEO and now she’s … she’s a shell.”

Steve walked around the desk to you, grabbing your hands while they shook with anger. The look in his eyes was sincere, loving, and brought you back to a simpler time. When you were first dating, living in a tiny apartment in the city, the two of you were so in love.

“I know this move has been hard on you and I don’t want you to see this all as a mistake. I’m trying hard, I really am,” You nodded, trying to let his words soothe you. You pressed your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, “Everything here is new to me too. They do things here differently than any other place I’ve been.”

“Yeah, it’s like a cult,” You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled.

“I’m not sure about that. I do know that things are simpler here,” You felt his heartbeat quicken, “I always wanted the white picket fence, the two kids, a boy and girl, and a doting wife. She wouldn’t be bogged down by the stresses of modern life, I would take care of her … we’d be happy-”

You pushed away from him, tears pricking your eyes, “Steve, you can’t be serious,” You took a few more steps back.

Steve sighed, “I wasn’t sure before. Bucky made it sound like a crazy fantasy but now that I’ve seen Nat and … now that I’ve talked to Tony…”

You kept walking backward, your heart was now racing, “You kept saying she and her. Not me … I’m not the wife you want, am I?”

Steve stepped forward now. There was pain in his eyes like he didn’t want to hurt me but he had to keep pushing himself further, “You could be, pumpkin,” He tried to be endearing but his voice was weak.

As soon as your back touched the door, you turned and yanked it open. You took off down the hallway and you cursed the fact that you let Steve by this crazy house. You looked back to see Steve standing at the top of the stairs as you hurried down them, “Y/N, please don’t make this hard!” Steve tried to plead.

“Fuck you, Steve!” You shouted back, practically throwing yourself at the door. As you turned the lock, it didn’t budge, “Edith, open the door!”

“Only Mr. Rogers has command of my controls, Mrs. Rogers.”

Your face fell completely as tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt him behind as you continued to pull at the doorknob, “Steve, I’m begging you …” He placed his hands on your hips, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“I promise it won’t hurt one bit, pumpkin.”

When Steve awoke a week later, he was dreading the day. It had been a week since Tony started working on you and Steve was nervous to see the final product of the reprogramming. He’d spent the week emailing your friends, family, and associates, making excuses about your whereabouts and your new change of career.

Whatever problems he ran into, there was nothing that money couldn’t solve.

As he made his way down the stairs that morning, he smelt something unusual. Steve had never woken to the smell of bacon and he had certainly never heard you humming sweet songs before. He saw the back of you first as he walked into the kitchen, knowing you were whisking away at some mixture in a bowl.

Steve moved cautiously but you easily picked up on his movements. Part of Steve was surprised to see that you were still you. He hadn’t seen such a happy look on your face since the two of you had been engaged, “Hey, honey bear,” You greeted him and Steve could now see you were whisking pancakes, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve moved closer and you heard yourself say, “Don’t be shy, I’m making those pancakes you like from our favorite brunch spot.”

“I didn’t think … how did you …”

You guessed what he was thinking easily, “I did a bunch of research and I found the recipe online. I hope I can make them just like you like them,” You set down the bowl, walking over to peck his lips. Your lips still felt the same which comforted Steve, “Why don’t you sit down at the table? I’ll bring them to you!”

“Oh,” Steve perked up, “I can help you. Where’s the recipe?”

“No need. Let me take care of you, please,” You searched his eyes for permission, “It’s the first day of our new life together and I just want to show you how much I love you.”

Steve nodded and you pecked his lips again. You smiled, knowing how much telling him that you loved him had please him.

In the little breakfast nook, there was already a table full of food, the sunlight streaming in from the tall windows and illuminating the feast. Steve estimated that you had probably been cooking for hours at that point. A glass of orange juice as well, a cup of hot coffee was and today’s newspaper was waiting for him at the head of the table.

You were completely focused on following the recipe, having measured everything precisely and you were now making perfect circles of batter in the frying pan.

Steve watched your dress swing from side to side as you moved your hips, humming to some classical song. He had just realized that you’d chosen a blue dress, his favorite color, and you were wearing your hair just like he preferred. When you brought the tray of pancakes over to the table, you had an excited but expectant look on your face. You were probably as nervous as Steve was earlier.

As you placed them in front of Steve, you stepped back and folded your hands over your apron,

“You aren’t going to sit down?” Steve asked, grabbing his fork.

“Would you like me to sit down?” You asked, a pleasant look on your face.

“Yes, please,” Steve emphasized the seat beside him. He had a look of surprise on his face as if he hadn’t expected you to ask that. You maneuvered into the seat, neatly flattening your dress as you made yourself comfortable.

You looked back at Steve, still expectant, “You don’t want to eat?”

“Of course, if that’s what you’d like, my love,” You started to fill your plate with scrambled eggs and pieces of fruit from the bowl you prepared. Even as you spooned the food into your mouth, the taste not registering in your mouth, you watched him. You made sure to push the syrup closer to him as you waited.

When his fork finally picked up the food, your eyes were wide.

“It takes just like the pancakes at Orla’s,” Steve complimented and you felt your heart race. You touched your chest, your cheeks feeling warm, as happiness flooded you, “They’re delicious, Y/N.”

“I’m so glad,” You beamed, “Eat more, please. Would you like a muffin? Sausage? I can blend you up a fresh smoothie.”

Steve placed a hand over yours, trying to stop you from ranting, “No, everything is perfect.”

And Steve meant it.

When Steve finished his plate, you brought it to the sink despite his wishes to help you with dishes. When you came back to the table, you leaned in for what Steve thought was another peck on the lips. He was surprised when you deepened the kiss, resting your hands on the armrest as you leaned into him.

When you pulled away, you weren’t even breathless, “You look very handsome this morning, Steve,” You told him, adoration in your eyes as you memorized every feature of his strong face, “Would you let me have the honor of pleasing you?”

“I’m already feeling pleased,” Steve grinned not expecting your hand to run down his chest and then over his boxers, “.... oh.”

“Please?” You pouted, feeling him through the fabric. He grew harder against your grasp and, by his pupils, you could tell he liked it, “Just let me touch it. Please, Steve?”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding as he was left speechless. You reached into his boxers, grabbing his member which made Steve melt back into his chair. You freed it from its confinement, leaning down to let a trail of your spit coat the sensitive tip, “Just like that, Y/N,” You up and down his shaft, twisting and rubbing your thumb over the tip.

You moved down to kneel in front of him, “I wanna taste it, Steve. I wanna taste you so bad,” You moaned, moving your mouth closer to him.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” You smiled before tasting the tip with your tongue, “Good girl. Oh, you’re an angel.”

You took him all the way into his mouth, your tongue trailing down his shaft as you went deeper. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue creating a swirling motion. Despite your eyes watering, you kept perfect eye contact, trying to show him how much you were enjoying the privilege.

When your mouth tired, you used your hand to continue the work though Steve didn’t seem to mind at all. When you felt he was close, you slowed your motions, “Steve, please cum inside of me?” You begged, your hand still stroking his cock.

He nodded eagerly, knowing you hadn’t taken your birth control for an entire week. You got up from the ground, lifting your dress skirt as you climbed on top of him. Your eyes were locked on each other as you slid your panties to the side, sliding down on his cock. He was already close, you knew that, and you were desperate to feel his warmth.

“You want me to put a baby in you?” Steve grunted as you began to ride him. He grabbed a hold of the back of your neck, pulling you further into him. Your forehead pressed to his, your moans and pants began to mold together.

“Please!” You moaned.

“You want me to make you a Mommy, huh?”

“Please! Yes, please! I want you to make me a Mommy, Steve,” You smiled, the idea only filling your virtually empty mind with happiness. You'd try your best to be a wonderful mother and wife. “Oh, thank you-”

As you felt his warmth fill your insides, it was confirmation that you had pleased your husband properly. He slowly let you go so you could feel every inch that you just took.

“Jesus Christ,” He swore, panting as he leaned back in the chair, “This was the heaven on earth they were talking about.”

Steve could only imagine what came with lunch and dinner.

Suddenly the sun outside caught your attention, “It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

hope you enjoyed!

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mickeyhenrysgf · 5 years ago

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Fuck, Marry, Kill

Summary: After coming home from college, your parents decide to throw a party. At the party, Bucky Barnes stumbles upon a game you’re playing with your best friend.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: age gap, (reader is in college) making out, inappropriate touches and sexual acts, dirty language

“Noo! There’s no boys allowed down here” your best friend slurred, as she waved her alcoholic beverage in the air. You rolled your eyes lightly, carefully putting her cup down to prevent her from spilling the drink all over herself.

“Come on, sweetie. They’re all talking about kids and shit, I’m sick of it” Bucky announced as he sat down across from you.

“Yeah, well, don’t you think that’s a little concerning for you. Shouldn’t you be settling down...” you blurted, the alcohol already in your system giving you some courage.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, before taking a swing of his drink.

“And what about you? Huh? Last year in college and still no boyfriend” he challenged, shrugging.

He was good at this game. You hummed and tilted your head in response.

“At least I’m getting laid!”

“Fuck you, Barnes—“

“Is that a promise?” A smirk twitched against his lips and you rolled your eyes.

You first learned about Bucky when you came home for Thanksgiving in your sophomore year of college. Seated at the table, you noticed he wasn’t the same age as your parents. But, he was still a good 10 plus years older than you. Working in the same place as your parents and living almost 3 blocks down, they instantly became friends. Now as a senior, you also considered Bucky as a friend.

Your friend scoffed at the playful banter before hushing the both of you. “Anyways, Y/N, Fuck, Marry, or Kill” she whined, she was definitely drunk but you didn’t care.

Bucky’s elbows rested on his knees as he looked at you.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be playing that? Or is this some college bullshit game?” You blushed lightly, flipping him off. He chuckled softly and shrugged.

Yeah, so what if you had a crush on Bucky Barnes. It was harmless anyways. His kind eyes stayed on yours, waiting for an answer but you focused on your friend.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead”

“Alright, let’s make this fun!” Your friend clapped as she giggled lightly at Bucky. “Let’s do— Jake from economics, Nick from the swim group, and Bucky!”

“What?” You and Bucky both said in unison, the two of you staring at each other.

“Oh, come on, Y/N— it’s just a game. Bucky doesn’t even care. Right?” She questioned, as she continued to drink. Bucky cleared his throat and shook his head. “See—! plus, we’re all adults here” she added, looking at you.

Bucky was curious. Honestly. The fact that he would have made a move if you weren’t the daughter of his fellow co-worker was telling. You made him laugh, laugh till tears filled his eyes. Made him even feel younger.

You looked over at Bucky, licking your lips in hesitation. You never fully understood the vibe he gave off. He had brought girls to your parent’s house before. Player? Probably. Sometimes when you visited your dad at his job, there would be a new girl in Bucky’s office. But, that was the first & last time you would ever see them.

“Well, I would do... marry- umm... Jake— because well, his family is fucking rich!”

“Good choice!” Your friend sang as Bucky watched you in anticipation.

“And then I would F-Fuck Nick—” you boasted in a very unconvincing way. It was lie obviously.

“Finally, I would kill you Bucky, sorry, you’re just not my type at all” you exaggerated, making a gagging face. That was a lie too.

“Aw! Sorry Bucky! You know Y/N never really had a type for older men” Your friend teased, finishing her drink.

You looked over at Bucky, your face feeling flushed. You prayed it didn’t show. Perhaps, you could blame it on the alcohol. Your palms releasing an unhealthy amount of sweat as well. But Bucky, He was unphased. Better yet, He smirked slightly. Why the fuck was he smirking , you thought to yourself. You wanted to scream at him. God, and now your back was sweating. This is gross, you thought, swallowing thickly.

“Y/N—? Hello?”

Your friend tried to grab your attention as thoughts ran through your head.

“What?” You snapped as you finished cursing out Bucky in your head. Oh, and he laughed at your mistaken aggression. He’s an asshole.

“It’s my turn” your friend said not realizing that you accidentally snapped at her but Bucky had. He noticed everything.

You started to clean the basement as your friends left one by one. It was almost midnight, and the party was quieting down.

“Missed something” the familiar voice said as he waved a wrapper in the air. You turned around slowly as Bucky stood, leaning against the basement wall. He shot a smile towards you. Of course, he’d be one of the last people still here. After your awkward game of Fuck, Marry, Kill , Bucky had excused himself out of the basement & went back upstairs.

“Oh, thanks. You can just put it in the plastic bag over there” you went back to tidying the items, but you heard Bucky’s footsteps become louder. He began to give you a helping hand in folding the chairs.

“That was quite a show you pulled off...”

“I’m sorry?”

“Y/N, I’m not dumb” he huffed, folding the chair and then stepping closer to you. You looked up and noticed how much taller he was compared to you. You stepped back a bit, tripping on the chair behind you. However, Bucky caught you. His hands firm on your hips.

He chuckled softly... that fucking laugh again.

“B-Bucky—“ You stuttered, looking up at him. His hands brushing over your skin for the first time. Goosebumps shooting across every inch. God, did he always look this handsome up close?

“You’re nervous-“

“I’m not.”

“So, you actually want to fuck Nick...?”

“You don’t even know how he looks!” He caught you off pulling out his phone.

“Oh, but I do—“ he showed you a screenshot from the university’s website. “You can do better than that.” He tsked as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“How did you even find that?”

He caught your lies. But, why? Why did he care? His hands squeezed your hips, running them up your body and then cupped your face. You felt fragile in his embrace. You weren’t scared, but you were nervous.

“Tell me if you want me to stop...” he looked into your eyes waiting for a disapproval. His thumb caressing your cheek before tracing your lips.

Make the first move.

Your hands pressed against his chest before sliding down until it reached his clothed hard on.

He groaned, pulling you against the wall, his slight hard on resting on your thigh, as you looked up at him with innocent eyes.

“Fuck, You know your father is going to kill me, right?” You smashed your lips against his. You couldn’t care less what your parents thought. Right now, you wanted to kiss Bucky. He licked your bottom lip, a way of asking permission as you opened your mouth, the two of you exploring & sucking on each other’s tongues. His hands reached down to your ass and squeezed on it. He patted it lightly, signaling to jump, which you gladly did. Your hands in his hair, Bucky’s hard on grinding against you, and making you wetter by the second. It was embarrassing how turned on the two of you were.

You pulled away slightly to breathe. Your lips already swollen, as Bucky playfully tugged on your bottom lip staring at you. “Tell me, what was the answer you really wanted to say?”

“I’d fuck you...” you admitted as Bucky grinned, leaning in and leaving small hickeys on your neck, causing you to moan lightly. He grabbed your hand and guided it towards his hard on. You blushed heavily, squeezing him which earned a filthy grunt to escape lips.

“You really thought you could keep this little secret to yourself, I would eventually find out—” He whispered in your ear, his hands running up under your shirt to grope your breasts. You whimpered, tugging a handful of his hair. His hands skillfully unhooked your bra before lifting up your shirt and bunching up the fabric till your breasts were on display.

“You’re fucking gorgeous” He licked his lips, before taking off the shirt and bra completely, throwing it on the floor. His mouth quickly attaching on the sensitive bud, as his other hand gave its undivided attention to your other breast. Bucky spared no time in pinching, flicking, and sucking which only made your arousal grow.

“Agh— fuck... Buck—“ his hands slapped over your mouth, his eyes now much darker than before. “As much as I would love to hear those moans, you better keep your pretty mouth shut” he warned as his mouth popped off from your breasts and went to licking a stripe up your neck.

“Or... You can come back to my place... I’ll make that pussy scream... You want that?” Bucky clearly wasn’t thinking straight. Neither were you. The two of you drunk off of each other’s touches without thinking of the consequences. You nodded as your hands started to palm him through his jeans. Bucky groaned, kissing you once again to shield the loud moans coming from the basement.

“Y/N...! Sweetie...! Are you down there?” You heard your mother’s voice and your eyes widened. Your mother was moments from catching you half naked with Bucky.

“Shit, shit, shit.” you began to panic, trying to push yourself off him. Your heart pounding.

“Shhhh.... Relax” his fingers stroked your cheek in the most delicate way possible before letting you down. He passed you back your bra and shirt, as his hands were trying to move his hard on in a way where it wasn’t too noticeable.

He cleared his throat lightly. “Yeah—! She’s down here with me!”

Your eyes shot back to him still wide as before, as you quickly began to fix your appearance.

“Bucky, is that you?” Your mother questioned, her voice getting closer by the second.

“Sure is! Your daughter and I were just cleaning up the mess down here” your mother eventually coming down to the basement. A smile on her face as she saw the room spotless. Thank god, the room didn’t have the best lighting because your hair was a mess and your lips were swollen.

“She’s such a good girl...” Bucky stated nonchalantly, his arm pulling you in, as his hands rested on your ass. The nickname causing heat to rise in your cheeks. He squeezed your ass and you gasped lightly, quickly covering it with a cough.

“I’ll be right up, I just have to find uh— my phone” you explained, trying to push Bucky’s hand away from behind, but he only continued to knead your ass.

“Alright, honey, thank you Bucky for helping her out. You didn’t have to” she smiled kindly, oblivious to the actions happening behind you and Bucky before she headed upstairs.

You turned on your heel, quickly grabbing your phone. You tried to head towards the stairs but was stopped.

“Y/N...”

You released a heavy breath, looking up at him. The nonchalant attitude that he presented to your mother was gone. His hands running through his hair. More than likely, a reality check was settling in. He scratched his beard nervously, watching your every movement, waiting for you to speak.

“Don’t worry, Bucky, I’m not going to tell anyone” you promised, waving your phone in the air. “Text me when you get home...” you walked over to him and kissed his cheek. Before he could grab your wrist you pulled away and left Bucky in the middle of your basement to recollect his thoughts.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes x you

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writerwrites · 5 years ago

Text

Could I Need You This Much

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After Bucky is left at the alter he asks you, his childhood best friend, to go with him to Rome so the non-refundable honeymoon doesn’t go to waste. Wanting to support him through his breakup you decide to telework and tag along. There’s a little problem: You’ve always been oblivious about your own feelings until you’re head over heels.

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: Modern!au, wedding day break-up, language, past injury mention, fluffy... chronically fluffy

A/N: *THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE SHOT* This is my submission to the [belated] birthday challenge for @burninmatches and I chose to combine two prompts from the challenge for this fic. First, the soulmates trope. Second, the song “Head Over Heels” by Tears For Fears ; The beautiful dividers were made by @whimsicalrogers

Bucky was always a quiet person, but you’d never seen him this quiet. You had just stepped out of the bathroom in your cute little tux and mini-bowtie, arms splayed out wide making jazz hands. The proclaimed ‘tada’ fell silent on your ruby-painted lips the moment you saw his downcast gaze at his phone. “Buck? Hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

Steve was checking to make sure things were good to go; the irony of that, he thought. You would be the one to find him like this. “She broke it off. No wedding.” Those were the only words the Army veteran could muster as his lungs felt like ice and his mind filled with water.

You fell to your knees in front of him, kicking off your shiny black heels and pulling his phone from his hand to throw it to the side. “So let’s go. Let’s get out of here. Steve will take care of the crowd. We’ll get Nat to handle the vendors, she’s intimidating enough to stop them from asking questions. You don’t need to be here. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. You tell me what to do and consider it done.”

This was what you did with the boys. Steve and Bucky were practically brothers and the three of you were the Musketeers of Brooklyn. You had weaseled into their lives because you had been the talker, the sidekick, the advice giver. Advice...you tried your best with this relationship and though you wouldn’t dare say you told him so, there had been so many bumps along the way. Even sweet Steve had drunkenly said Bucky could do better, about as harsh a judgement as Steve could ever muster. She had drunkenly complained that she hated how close the three of you were, you’d brushed it off. Bucky had been played, taken her back more times than you and Steve could count, and he’d put up with so much to make her happy. ‘At what cost’ was all you could manage to think.

There was a guilt in the pit of your stomach, a little voice in the back of your head, this was your fault. Maybe if you’d spoken up, but there wasn’t time to stay stuck in your own head as Bucky started to pull at his slicked back hair. Grabbing his hands in yours, detangling the mess he made, you pulled him up. “We’re getting out of here, simple as that. If you can’t tell me what to do, I’ll take care of this.”

When his rough hands pulled from yours it felt like he was about to protest, but his hands just went back to his face, blocking you from the sight of fresh tears. It was the first time you’d seen him cry from anything other than infectious laughter. Steve was the emotional one, Bucky was the glue, and you were... trading your heels in for the Chelsea boots you’d worn on your bike ride to the chapel. Grabbing your bag, you shoved in his wallet, phone, anything else that was small and his and put the bag on him. Pulling him to the exit you Gave him your helmet and grabbed Steve’s with little hesitation, a fleeting glance at Bucky’s car covered in hideous ‘just married’ decor. “Just hold on to me. It’s been a while since I’ve had anyone bigger than me on the back.”

He didn’t acknowledge you with words, just little tilts of his head, eyes downcast. Even when you started the motorcycle and patted the seat to get on, Bucky marched like a tin soldier to orders. You were grateful for the noise of your bike and the city, and the built in Bluetooth speakers and mic in your helmet so you could call Steve. With a promise to somehow get his helmet back to him and to make up for the shitstorm that he and Nat would have to handle, you hung up and crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and escaped to the one place you knew no one would look for you except possibly Steve, Plumb Beach.

Hand in hand you two walked onto the small beach and you only let go to dig in the bag he still wore for the clothes you’d worn to the chapel to throw them on the sand for the pair of you to have a seat. His eyes searched far and wide, still staying off of you, so to give him some space, you emailed your boss that the three days off next week, your personal time to recover from the partying and subsequent clean up, should just be changed to a full week of telework. With no complaints outside of a joke that you really needed a real vacation, you tucked your phone into your pocket and really looked at Bucky. The sun on his tanned skin, face clean shaven - a rare occurrence, and the lines on his face from years of stress and pain or chronic infectious laughter. As your lips parted to try and weasel the latter out of him, his gentle voice came out in a raspy whisper, “I was looking forward to the trip to Italy. I thought it was going to be a fresh start for us, a new chapter.”

You draped your arm over his shoulder, pulling him close and his chin rested on your shoulder. “Bucky, I know that you know those two things aren’t the same.” Running your fingers through his hair to comfort him like he’d comforted you through your own fair share of breakups, you let out a sigh, “But today it’s okay to let her burn in your lungs and your heart and your head... It’s okay to scream it out or cry. Whatever it takes to not let this moment consume you because you’re going to come out on top. You’re not alone, not for a second.”

When he pulled away you thought he was pulling away for space or going to give some grandiose speech about how you didn’t understand and how he was alone. Instead he was reaching for your hand, pulling you up and, with three squeezes and the corner of his lips you knew what was coming. The quiet countdown, the setting sun, a throwback to junior prom and your ex making out with your nemesis under the bleachers. “One.” You started, eyes on him.

“Two.” His bright blue bloodshot eyes on you.

“Three.” Two pairs of lungs in unison soon empty of air as they let out billowing calls to nowhere.

Two tuxedoed buffoons getting odd looks, Bucky pulling you into his side, and no sound but the waves whispering as you let him process. “Let’s get out of here.”

While you were relieved he was finally stringing along more than a word or two you weren’t sure what he meant. It was the way his eyes seemed to light up like he was having a ‘eureka’ moment. “The last time you looked at me like that you decided we had to take a cross-country road trip before you and Steve left for bootcamp.”

Bucky tugged you back to the bike, “And wasn’t that exactly what we needed?”

Despite your laughter, the knowing that the trip was what you all needed to cope with the gang breaking up, you still recalled how the boys barely made it to the bus on time. Passing him Steve’s helmet with a nod, Bucky pulled it on without shaking hands or hesitation. “Where are we going?”

“My suitcase is in my car. Can you get off work?” You didn’t need to see his expression to know there was a puppy dog look of optimism on his face.

“I actually already did.” As you mounted your bike and Bucky flipped up the visor and you were surprised to see him looking so surprised. “What?” Clearing your throat and flipping your own visor down he got on and you hollered over the engine. “Steve has your keys, too. I’ll tell him to drive it over to you, you can have your suitcase, he can have his helmet. Now where are we going while we wait on him?”

“Yours, knucklehead. You’ve got a bag to pack.”

It wasn’t all that surprising that Steve couldn’t leave on a whim. His job as an art therapist for veterans wasn’t exactly something he put before a social life. As Bucky pulled luggage from the trunk Steve pulled you to the side, “I’m only letting him go on this trip because you’re going. If anything happens I’ll find a way to get there. I’m sorry I...”

Pressing your fingers to his lips you hushed him. “I may not be a therapist, but you two are my best friends. I’m not going to let him lock himself in a bathroom, throw himself off a gondola, or...”

Steve interrupted you with side-holding laughter, “Oh dear, you might need this more than him you uncultured swine. There are no gondolas in Rome.”

“No gondolas in Rome? Well fuck, we better pick a new place to run off to.” Bucky half-smiled as he leaned his head into the door. “We are still putting my non-refundable honeymoon to good use, aren’t we?”

Punching Steve in the arm, you called back at the blonde, “See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya!”

Bucky stayed, talking to Steve for more than a couple of minutes while you flipped through work emails and kept your boss in the loop on the telework situation. All the while, only catching the tone of concern in Steve’s voice, not the words. Before you knew it you were on your way, body scans and bag checks, and with Bucky’s eyes averted you flipped through social media to see if it was safe to let him near his own phone. It wasn’t, at least not yet. It wasn’t just that she had changed her Facebook relationship status or that she deleted the countless pictures chronicling their relationship, it was that she had unfriended every person around Bucky that had put up with her for his own happiness. It made you wonder what happened, but more than that, it made you glad to put an ocean between her and your fists.

The non-stop flight was just shy of nine hours, the ride to the hotel in the heart of the city was another thirty, and as you walked up to the counter to check in Bucky, who managed to restlessly nod off on your shoulder, looked like he was about to collapse. “We’re here to check in, the reservation is under James Barnes.”

It was obvious that they were processing the English, disrupted from their lunch, “Ah, che bravissimo, the American newlyweds! Evviva gli sposi!”

What felt like nine in the morning on no sleep for you was clearly better than Bucky’s experience. So you nodded, thanked them, and passed over the passport and other items clutched in his hand. Once it was all back in your hands with room keys you pulled him along to the elevator and, once again, he surprised you. “Are you okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you took his hand. “Despite what some people think, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a Mrs. Barnes.” Sticking out your tongue to lighten the mood, you left him in the elevator as you pulled your luggage along, “C’mon Athos!” The childhood nickname seemed to draw him from his thoughts and his long legs quickly caught up to you. “Want me to go in first and chuck any romantic decor?”

“Fuck, I didn’t even think about that.” He swallowed at the cotton in his mouth. “No, it’s fine. Hell, maybe there’s chocolate on the pillows.”

Wiggling your eyebrows you slipped the keycard in and pushed the door open, but just as you were about to say ‘dibs’ you saw the room. Rose petals trailed along the floor and the room had the soft scent of clean cotton and gardenias. Faux candles of an array of heights and sizes flickered on every surface. The bathroom door sat open and the motion sensor light kicked on to brighten up a jacuzzi tub and oversized shower with a bench. The small area to sit in had a door out to the balcony with a postcard worthy view and just as you were about to rush out there you saw the bed- the one massive bed and the welcome basket and flowers in the center of a massive heart of petals. “Cliché, but I think we have the chocolate covered.”

“I’ll take the couch.” He was so quick, so matter of fact about it that it almost threw you for a loop and you nearly agreed.

“We could sleep on this bed with all of this on it and still never brush elbows. Besides, we’ve shared a bed before.”

While all of that was true and you didn’t think much of it as you kicked off your shoes and left your bags by the door, something was twisting in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. The fact was that it had always been you, him, and Steve; even on the impromptu road trip Steve was always there. The boundaries had always been crystal clear and now you both were single, had careers, grown up, and now, after everything, there were secrets. “Are you sure?”

“Yup. Go and shower first, Army boy. If I do there won’t be any hot water left for you.” As soon as he was in the bathroom you pulled out your laptop, checking in with Natasha about the vendors and letting Steve know you had made it safe. With it being so early in the morning you weren’t surprised by the lack of a response and set out to clean up the room, all the while keeping an ear open for Bucky needing you. Just as you were about to check on him, your toiletry bag and a change of clothes tucked under your arm, you shrieked at the door opening in front of you. Your fist instinctively punched straight ahead into his stomach and set him coughing. “Shit! Sorry.” As soon as you put your hand on his damp shoulder you saw the familiar intense scarring that he usually kept hidden under a henley or leather jacket. Your thumb brushed over the remnants of the wound that had discharged him from the military before you took a step back, “Okay Barnes, I didn’t hit you that hard.”

“It’s my ego. You hit me in my ego.” He mocked as he straightened up. “Steve can never know this happened.”

Sticking your tongue out you walked into the bathroom and shut the door, a long slow exhale passing your lips. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath and that might have surprised you if it wasn’t for the flushed look on your face in the mirror. It wasn’t blush- or so you swore.

On the other side of the door, Bucky quickly changed and moved around the room setting a few dozen of the candles back on to turn off the harsher light of the bedroom lamps. His eyes stayed on the bathroom door the entire time while his mouth moved from chewing the inside of his cheek to chewing on his bottom lip. Once he’d finally stopped pacing around the room and decided to take a seat the bathroom door opened and you stepped out in leggings and a long t-shirt. Your eyes were on the floor, hair wrapped in a towel so that it didn’t drip onto your clothes. Bucky’s blue eyes stayed glued on the shirt clinging to the damp skin beneath. “I remember when you stole that shirt.”

“Huh?” Looking down you couldn’t help but snort, “Don’t call me out!”

“You always do that,” The corner of his mouth turned up, in a near smile and it was a relief for both of them to feel the tiniest lightening of the mood, a baby-step to normalcy.

“Do what?” Feigning innocence and flopping onto the bed, you reached for a pillow, causing the old shirt to slink up your curves.

“Buy a present that is actually meant for you and, under dubious circumstances at best, you somehow reclaim that gift.” Once the pillow was under your head, Bucky delicately pulled the shirt down and laid down next to you, rolling onto his side.

“I’m pretty sure I had this shirt first and it’s mine, but I knew you liked it so much that I got you the same one for your birthday.” You looked down at his hand, lingering on your stomach, certain it was just that he needed physical comfort, so you placed yours on top.

“Then at Steve’s twenty-first birthday co-Independence Day party you got so trashed you ruined yours. This is my shirt.”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Are you calling me a liar? Are you trying to steal the shirt off of my back?” You laughed so hard the bed shook and just as you settled down, sides aching, his rough fingertips tickled at the bottom of your soft tummy, right at the hem of your leggings and the shirt. “Even if it was yours, and I’m most certainly not saying it is, it’s molded to my thicc-ness now and it’ll never fit you again, Army Boy!”

“My whole government name, is it?” He smiled, really smiled, that glowing dopey ear to ear smile that was contagious. It had nearly been twenty-four hours since you’d seen him smile and somehow you were all to aware of an ache in your bones of missing his naturally contagious light. But that wasn’t what caught you off guard, it was the fact that this smile hadn’t been seen in years and the realization was something akin to going through withdrawals.

The choked laugh and the smile that found your own lips was hesitant, reserved, and held between your teeth. Against your better judgement you reached over and brushed your thumb through the lines on his face. “Does it hurt smiling like that after you haven’t in years.”

The words were whispered, Bucky’s sad blue eyes looked up from the threads of the comforter he was picking at and locked dead on you. When your lips parted to apologize, he leaned in close and pressed his lips to your forehead. “New chapter, remember?” Though your breath hitched in your throat, he pulled away from you, “I guess we’ll have to get used to it.”

“I could get used to it.” You half-yawned. “If we take a nap we might be able to reset ourself and waste less time jet lagged.”

“Background noise of tv, music, or--”

“City!” You finished with an excited smile, already sliding off the bed to open the balcony’s door and let in the sounds of Rome. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you and thought little more of it than his own curiosity about what the pair of you were going to miss during your quick snooze. By the time you turned around his eyes were closed and he’d jumbled up all of the blankets and pillows to get comfortable. “Too fluffy?”

“Spend years in the desert and try and sleep with all of that.”

Walking up the massive bed on your hands and knees, your tired body couldn’t be bothered to shove it all over the edge. He watched you attempt at climbing under the blankets, curious about why you weren’t looking up to see where you were going. It left you brushing against Bucky and he pulled you to his chest in one of his classic bear hugs. “Careful or you’ll wish you were back in the desert or did you forget that I’m a human space heater?”

“Nah, you missed my big hugs.” The steady cadence of his pulse was already lulling you to sleep. If that wasn’t enough, he pulled the towel off of your head and ran his fingers through your hair. It was an intoxicating sort of magic, a little trick he’d learned comforting his sisters and maybe when you woke up you’d feel played because you should have been comforting him, but the stars behind your lids drew you to a comfortable sleep.

As the two of you zipped around the city on your matching pistachio colored Vespas, Bucky knew he’d really started a new chapter. He could still perfectly picture the confusion on your face when you shocked him by agreeing to set work aside for a sunset zip to hunt down the best gelato. He couldn’t remember the last time you’d looked at him and not known what he was thinking. It was impossible for him to recall the last time anyone had set work aside to live a little, even with Steve. Though Bucky had chalked it up to ‘growing up’ a larger part of him wondered if you wold have always said yes or if there was a bigger reason you would’ve said no- like his ex. The fact was that the ex never even let you ask. That chapter felt a lot like the words ‘missing you’. This one felt a lot like three.

Somehow in the last two days in Italy, tossing coins in fountains, eating copious amounts of bread at every meal, sipping on proper espresso to counteract jet lag; he hadn’t cried or settled into some desperate need to get over his ex by getting under someone else. Bucky found himself delighting in the little things and he realized it was just because you were.

Wine tasted better after watching you bring it to you lips with a hum. Its color was the perfect balance of red and purple as it stained your lips. Then, when you slid it across for him to try it was the melodic sound of your laughter and pleading that convinced him to try something new from his staunchly beer and bourbon alcohol repertoire.

The mere mention of ice cream was no longer summoning the memory of that time Steve started a scrap that he had to end and resulted in you buying the three of them ice creams to cool off in the humid New York summer heat. You’d scolded the both of them so lovingly hard that yours melted entirely over fingers before your first lick. No, it was those fingers now covered in strawberry, sticky-sweet, and the almost inaudible gasp on you lips when Bucky leaned in and licked it off. He swore it was just for a stolen taste, but in the back of his mind he knew it wasn’t.

The laugh that came with the silly gesture, the familiar warmth of it like a hug to him, was more to you. While you swore it because he was being uncharacteristically childish. “I want to say I could get used to this ‘new chapter’ version of you because I love seeing you back to the Bucky that would protect Steve from his own stubbornness and me from my bad... taste, but if you’re going to make me laugh this much all the time... Can a person die of laughter? Is it going to be an oxygen deprivation type of death?” Laughing nervously, glad Steve wasn’t around to read you like a book. The embarrassment truly stemmed from how you loved the feeling of his stubble scratching your skin. Steve would’ve called you on it, that some how, something had just flipped like a switch and you were seeing the history of your friendship in a completely different way. The anxiety was starting to bubble as you question if he did too.

It felt so obvious to you, that the universe was laying the cards out on the table. You both shared silence and sound, space and somehow time- not just time in the sense of being in a new time zone or having shared a lifetime of memories, it was more and as you parked the rental Vespas at the shop and picked up your little bicycles, Bucky pulled you into the biggest hug. You didn’t ask him what it was for or hesitate to hug him back.

The sun was low, the street lamps turned on, and the only barrier between you two were the bikes. Hiding your smile in the curve of Bucky’s neck you could have sworn you heard him groan when you lips brushed the base of his neck at the collar of his t-shirt. “You know where we are?” He asked as he led you around the bike just a little, still holding you until he pulled on your hip to make you look out at the view. A hefty amount of stairs led down deeper into the plaza, flanked by older peach and dusty rose buildings. The architecture was beautiful, but you honestly had been enjoying the company on this trip more than the food and your love of history was always always something you didn’t flaunt. “It’s late and we’ve been dragging each other all over this city since we got here, so I’ll forgive you for not realizing just yet.”

Buzzing with excitement and curiosity he took your hand, lacing his hand in yours and taking you down the stairs a few at a time. “I’ve got little legs!” You laughed, true or not it was always hard to keep up with the soldier’s longer legs. The joke of protest was met with Bucky’s arms scooping you up. You were so tempted to protest, so tempted to tell him that the last thing he needed was to hurt his arm lugging you down some stairs in Rome. Then you saw his smile, the one that reached his eyes and the only thing you could say was, “The stairs! Stop looking at me and look at the stairs, Bucky!”

“I’d never drop you.” He said it so matter of factly and you believed it. “I really want to enjoy this so close your eyes.”

“Demanding.” You chuckled, no longer hiding that you loved it. “Fine... but only since you completely unnecessarily but oh so gallantly walked me down oh so many Roman stairs.”

With a crinkle of your nose you shut your eyes and he set you down shortly thereafter. You swallowed at the dryness in you mouth when his hands found yours again almost immediately. Bucky’s breath shook in your ear, surely from the effort of lugging you around, you swore, biting into your bottom lip waiting for the cue to open your eyes. But he waited, his hands still holding yours and then enveloping you in a tight hug, his chest pressed to your back, his chin over your shoulder. “Okay, now you can open them.”

You didn’t have to read the placard to know Keat’s home. When Bucky and Steve were away for boot camp you’d written them every day, jokingly telling the boys to not become blockheads and to keep each other safe. While the letters were fairly similar, you knew Steve was already hiding doodles on the envelopes, he had ‘his thing’. So you sent Bucky poetry, Keats being one of your favorites. How you’d forgotten the stairs was beyond you, but you weren’t breathing, your eyes stung with happy tears. This was a bucket list visit and your chin quivered as you recalled the emotions of reading you first poem and the worry about losing the boys forever. You’d made yourself sick worrying Bucky would do something stupid to save Steve.

“Hey, pretty girl, this was supposed to make you smile!” Bucky squeezed you in that hug a little tighter and finally you took a breathe and the few tears dripped down your cheeks. “I thought you loved John Keats.” You could only managed a mildly frantic nod as you tried to collect yourself, a soft smile- one too similar to an apology found your lips. “This is you in celebrity shock?” A nudge to Bucky’s side made him laugh and you let go of his hands so you could spin around and hug him tightly back. “Ahhh there’s the reaction I was hoping for.”

“You never talked about the poems I sent you. I just assumed you didn’t want to tell me I was being lame.” Chewing the inside of your cheek you looked back at the building and then up at his bright blue eyes, which were only on you.

“I loved them. They got me through...” The arm, he didn’t have to say it and you squeezed his side to let him know that. What you hadn’t expected was the quiet man that kept his longer chatting to odd things he’d dug up on science threads on Reddit or political rants to make a confession in the middle of the Piazza di Spagna in words that you both shared years ago:

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors— No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever—or else swoon to death.

Was that what did it? Was that the moment you fell head over heals for Bucky Barnes? It felt irrelevant to label the ‘something happened’ moment when, under the stars and in the summer heat you pulled his mouth to yours and kissed him fearlessly. His hands pulled the two of you somehow ever closer and the only compromise to the separation of your soft lips to his was the gasp for air. The dopey smile on his face as he cupped your face gave you the opportunity to use your words. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Bucky’s fingers pressed gently into your soft skin and he pulled your mouth back to his. He didn’t ask when you knew, you didn’t ask him either, and it didn’t matter. His tongue caressed yours and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tugging on his cloths, his hair, every inch of you pressing into him until you both were breathless messes again. “I’ll bring you back.”

“Promise?” You didn’t know if he meant to Italy or the Keats-Shelley Museum, but you were too distracted by his blown out pupils and how beautiful his lips looked wet and swollen from kissing you. The thought of that action alone was still dizzying.

“Yeah, I promise, but I have one more surprise.” As your eyebrows drew together in confusion his hands pulled away from your face, where they had been resting gently on your neck, brushing your jaw, leaving a sting of heat in their wake. He took your hands in his and he got down on one knee. Your mouth fell open and you picked it up quickly, but your head lulled to the side like a confused puppy as your heart raced so loudly in your chest that you were certain Bucky would feel the vibrations in your fingertips. “Will you marry me? Steve always knew I wanted this. He swore up and down that if I just took five minutes to think about what you meant to me romantically that I would realize every single person I’d been with never compared to the girl who climbed in my sandbox. I wouldn’t have been left at the alter if I would have realized the only person I wanted at my side was the person I wanted at my side in sickness and in health, good times and bad, was always already there. Yes, you and Steve are my best friends, but I should have realized sooner why there were differences between my friendships with the two of you.”

“Everyone saw it but the two of us.” You looked down at Bucky, his hands may not have held a ring, but it was perfect and it was very much the two of you in your own world. “I guess I need to call Steve to come to Rome after all.”

As if he was reading your mind, he knew what you meant, you weren’t leaving this city without marrying him. Pulling out your phone, you tapped the little phone icon and in one swoop Bucky was picking you up and spinning you around, his lips kissing every inch of skin they could find and you laughed breathlessly. Steve answered on the second ring but the pair of you laughing muffled his greeting. You pulled the phone from your face and saw the minutes counting and you hushed Bucky with a smile and gentle little thwack to his peck. “So he told you?” Steve asked, tone anxious.

“Told me what?” Your eyebrows drew together and Bucky set you down, leaning in to listen to the call.

“He told you she called it off because he wanted to marry you.” Bucky swallowed, knowing that Steve was leaving out the key detail that after somehow getting his confiscated phone back he had drunk texted the Bride-not-to-be and told her as much the night before the wedding. “Is it finally happening?”

“Yeah,” You both said in unison, smiling despite the circumstances.

“Well, only if you can get out here. Someone has to give me away and seeing as how he won’t stand there without you and I won’t marry him without your blessing, it’s a bit of a co-dependent situation.” Bucky muffled his laugh, squeezing your hand before kissing your temple. “What do you say, Aramis?”

Steve let out a long sigh, but you could hear his keys jingling like he was already headed for his car. “Far be it from me to delay the inevitable. I’m surprised you two didn’t take care of this before we enlisted. Y’now, speaking of the three musketeers, does the impulsivity of this make him a D’Artagnan?”

Bucky let out a whistle and jokingly pumped his arm in victorious celebration. “You’ve done it now, Steve. Straight to his head.”

“I have to torture you a little for making me live through a couple of decades of angst and oblivion.”

You could practically hear the approving smile, “See you soon, stupid.”

Unceremoniously ending the call, you leapt into Bucky’s arms and picked up kissing him, drizzling in a lifetime’s worth of unsaid I love yous. Through laughing and smiling, fingers tangled in hair and soft curves pressed to the cold stone wall of the museum, you drank in Rome and Bucky. Each kiss was a vow to no longer letting a moment pass you two by.

All Tags: @tom-hlover

Bucky Tags: @caplanbuckybarnes

#fic: bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #writingmatches #writer: writerwrites #bucky x reader #//listen I really love them and so I may do head canons or something for these two

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libsterslobsters · 5 years ago

Text

The Wanton Song

Summary: How do you broach the topic of sex with the 90-something super soldier you've found yourself dating? That's the reader's question. Luckily, she and Bucky are no strangers to awkward conversations...

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!enhanced! Reader

(Reader can see bits and pieces of the future in visions and understands all languages)

Warnings: SMUT, tiny bit of angst, lotsa fluff, maybe some past dub!con if you squint

Author's note: Wow... here I am posting smut on the internet. Never thought that would happen. Tmi, but I'm married, so I have a good amount of sex 🙀 and I actually had a great first time, but some people don't, and that's what I tried to represent. That, and CONSENT!!!! Consent is sexy, y'all. Safe, sane and consensual all day every day.

As always, the reader's name isn't stated so that you can read as a self insert, but I've written so much at this point that I refer to the Reader as Violet in my own mind.

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

Life has been going swimmingly these past few months. Better than ever before in fact, or at the very least, better than in a long time. She’s still a fugitive, living life looking over her shoulder, but now she has a steady job, a steady paycheck, and oh yeah, a steady boyfriend. Those three things have never aligned for her before (especially the last one). Overall, she’s pretty happy. But, because she’s her, there’s still a question niggling at the back of her mind.

The transition from “you’re my only friend” to “we’re together now” went smoothly, helped in part by the fact that Barnes had been at that particular juncture the whole time. From the outside looking in, the only major changes have been the addition of those three simple but very key words and an upping the anti in the cuddles department.

Speaking of cuddles, that’s a very mild term for what’s going on these days. It starts out innocent enough. The usual location is on the couch at one or the other’s apartment. There hadn’t been much distance between them since that first time where they ended up talking more than watching the movie playing from her laptop, but now, the space is nonexistent. As a general rule, within the first ten minutes, her legs somehow end up over his lap or in some way intertwined with is. The intention is always to pay attention to what’s on the screen but, well, when you’re that close, it would be rude not to snuggle up. And, when the other person looks that damn kissable, it would truly be insulting not to take the plunge.

Now, considering the angle, one of them has to lean in. Otherwise, it would be awkward. That generally determines who, somewhere from two to ten minutes later, is on top of who. Of course hands wander, and even though it’s understood that the word “no” can be employed at any time and immediately obeyed (not to mention the copious amounts of “Is this okay”’s being asked), she can’t remember a time either of them have said it.

If she had to attach a term to what comes next, it would be ‘dry humping.’ And then… nothing. It always ends far too soon, leaving her flustered and with her heart racing. At first she thought it was because he simply didn’t want her, but, well, there’s certain physical signs that point to that not being the problem. Her next guess was that he’s simply being respectful. Well, as sweet as that is, she’s ready to get on with it. She’s only human after all, and as such, has needs. Sure, she could take care of them herself, but if she had to guess, he’s experiencing those needs too, and from what she’s heard, it’s more fun to take care of it together.

The only issue: how the hell do you bring something like this up, especially when the person you’re bringing it up with grew up in a much more repressed era than you did? She’s been debating it for the past week, and despite having multiple visions, none of them have given her that key insight into what to do.

Finally, she decides to just say it. They’ve made a point to be honest with each other, and it’s probably best to get it out of the way. They’re adults, after all. They can have this discussion. She’s going to come straight out with it.

“Hey, can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal, and maybe a little uncomfortable.”

“Sure, Doll.” The response is immediate. “Fire away.”

Glancing up to make sure they’re not at a pivotal scene in tonight’s movie (they have a system; at his place, watch something he grew up with, at hers, something made literally anytime after 1945), she spits out the whole sentence in one breathless go. “Are we ever going to have sex?”

It feels like a branding iron where his arm is still wrapped around her shoulder. Still, it’s comforting. At least he’s not moving away.

“I gotta admit, that’s not the question I was expecting. What brought this on?”

She shrugs, carefully keeping her eyes trained on the wall behind his head instead of on him.

“Nothing in particular. Just…” is there a delicate way to put this? “...I think things are going well between us, and sometimes when we’re together… I’ve noticed that there’s a physical response.” She’s really hoping that’ll suffice, because she can’t think of a good way to say “I can feel that you’re hard when you’re on top of me”.

“Oh.”

Apparently, her meaning is indeed clear enough, because he removes his arm from her shoulders. She’s about to apologize (all the while mentally berating herself) when his hand closes over hers.

“I’m sorry about that, Doll. I’ll try to stay calmer.” Wait, that’s not- “It’s just an issue guys have. Don’t think it means you have to do anything that you don’t want to, because I would never-”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Without thinking, she cuts him off. “And I want to.” It feels like she’s sitting in a sauna, she’s so flustered from this conversation. “But only if you do, and I understand if you didn’t-”

“No.” It’s abrupt, cutting her off. A definite answer that leaves no room for questioning. “No, I do. I just-” He clears his throat. “-I didn’t want to bring it up, in case we weren’t on the same page. “ This seems to be a recurring theme, so far. “And it’s not a must. If you change your mind-”

It’s pure instinct. There’s no thought involved as she closes the gap between them, this time with her on top, and presses her lips against his. The response is immediate and enthusiastic. She considers just going on, not putting a stop to things, but realization hits that, although overall she’s ready for this to happen, she’s not ready for it to happen tonight. There’s still things she needs to take care of. Most importantly, protection.

So, gasping for breath, she pulls away. “I’m calling for a rain check, but if after that, you still think I’ll change my mind-” she pushes back her hair and forces herself to take a deep breath. “-then you may just be beyond help, Barnes.” If the chuckle is anything to judge from, she’s made her point.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Wow. Bucky thinks to himself as he exits out of the browser tab on his phone. That’s enough internet for one day. Too much, actually. He knows that it’s the information superhighway, but good god, no one needs THAT much information. He really needs to be more specific with what he googles… or less… or just not at all.

He’d never admit it (and really, who the hell is gonna ask him anyway), but he spent the last hour looking up how to have sex. He’s engaged in the act before, yeah, but it was seventy years ago. Plus, it used to be this huge taboo thing that you suspected was going on behind closed doors, but no one (not even the married couples) owned up to it. If you were ever found out, there were severe consequences. As a man, he didn’t have to worry as much, but if whoever the woman was had her dirty laundry aired… oh boy. She’d be a pariah, a “scarlet woman”, unfit for marriage or to even give the time of day. That led to limited encounters, and, well, it just seemed smart to brush up on what information is out there. As it turns out, people have written a lot about the fine art of love making. Unfortunately for him, most of it is absolute garbage. Some of the positions he just read about (because at that point, the article was like a train wreck; he badly wanted to look away, but he couldn’t) don’t even sound possible, much less pleasurable. He’s all for society being freer, but good grief!

He’s halfway through a bottle of straight vodka (it won’t have any effect, but he’s hoping maybe the alcohol will travel to his brain and sanitize his eyeballs from most of the shit he just read) when his phone rings. Great. He’s always happy to talk to her, but right now… wow. It’s gonna take him some time to recover, so he hopes she doesn’t need him to say much.

“Hey, Doll.”

“I am so fucking pissed off right now.” That sounds promising.

“At what?”

“The city of Bucharest, my apartment, the landlord, whoever the fuck did the plumbing in this building! God!” She’s clearly out of breath, so it takes a minute before she can speak again. “I’m sorry, Buck. It’s just that I came home from work, and one of my neighbors told me the entire sixth floor is under a good inch, inch and a half of water.” Wait-

“How-”

“I don’t know. Busted pipe. It’s leaked down onto the fifth floor, so I’ve got about fifty other pissed off people for company.”

“Jesus.”

She chuckles harshly. “Yeah, we could use him right about now to perform a miracle. This is a shit show, and I haven’t even told you the best part.”

“So the spontaneous flood wasn’t the highlight of your day?”

“I fucking wish! So, naturally, I tried to call the landlord, along with basically everyone else. Get this: since it’s after five o’clock on a Friday, he’s not gonna do anything. Told us collectively to suck it up! And of course, when there’s a leak, they have to cut the power…” He’s starting to see a pattern here.

She sighs. “I really needed to get that off my chest. How are you?” Still slightly weirded out by the information overload, but feeling a little more steady now that he’s got a good catastrophe to concentrate on. However, that’s probably not the best answer to go with.

“Better than you are.”

“What, the sky isn’t falling where you are?” He chuckles.

“No, it’s right where it’s supposed to be.” Which reminds him… “But since it seems like you’re short a functional home, why don’t you just stay here until they sort things out?” He’s got a couch that, while it doesn’t have anything on an actual bed, he can manage to sleep on for the next few nights. Or maybe they can share his bed. He shakes his head. That thought needs to be put to the side, even if it’s meant in the most innocent way possible. Of course, in case she decides to cash in that rain check…

“Yes. I mean, that would be great, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Actually, he can’t think of a better way to spend the weekend. The plan was to meet up either Saturday or Sunday, possibly both, so this isn’t that far out of the ordinary.

“Okay, but just a warning: They’re not letting us go up to our floor in case there’s been electrical damage as well-” That’s smart. If the pipes are in that bad of condition, who knows what the wiring looks like. “-so all I have is my purse, backpack, and what I wore to work. No toothbrush or pajamas, or anything like that.”

“That’s alright. All you have to bring is yourself.” He’ll have to look, but he’s pretty sure he has something in his closet that’ll work okay for her until she gets the all clear to go into her apartment. Plus, there’s a laundry mat just around the corner, not to mention a pharmacy.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.” He glances at his bedside clock. Five thirty-four. It takes roughly half an hour to get across the city by bus, so… “I’ll see you around six fifteen?”

“See you then.”

As soon as the line goes dead, he springs into action. First thing’s first: make sure there’s no dirty clothes, old dishes, or trash laying around. That takes all of five minutes. He should probably check that he does indeed have something she can wear so they won’t have to fumble around later. Tshirts are pretty universal and… yes, he has a few pajama bottoms that have a drawstring waist. How much time does he have left? The phone screen lights up, giving him his answer. Twenty-seven minutes. More than enough time to run around the corner and pick up a few things.

His intention is to buy the basics: spare toothbrush, deodorant, hairbrush, maybe a different shampoo than his three-in-one body wash (it’s convenient for him, but she might prefer something designated for hair specifically). But, well, there’s quite a few aisles, and he gets sucked in. Does he need to buy razors, or is that rude, like he thinks she’s hairy? What about aspirin? How often do most people get headaches? He honestly can’t remember.

By the time he realizes that he really needs to get a move on, his basket is full and he has no idea what aisle he’s on. Desperately, he looks around, and his eyes land on… huh. So they just have them out in the open these days. Last time he was in the market for that, he had to beg a married friend to make the purchase for him. He briefly wonders if he’ll need to produce proof of marriage or something similar, but pushes the thought to the side. It’s the 2000s. He can probably just go up to the register and pay, and no one will give him a second look. But there’s just one problem: which brand? He should google… suddenly remembering his adventure from earlier today, he decides to just go with his gut and pick one. There. Now, he needs to pay and get the fuck out of here because there’s only ten minutes left, and he’d rather not have these out in the open, in case she thinks that’s the reason he’s asked her to stay over. If it happens, great. If not… well, he’s made it for the past seventy years. What’s a few more?

___________________________________________________________________________________

She was still pretty shaken up when she arrived at his apartment, carrying her backpack and purse, slightly damp from the drizzle of rain now covering the city. But immediately receiving a long hug, being instructed to make herself at home, and hearing the offer to take a shower so she could warm up did a lot to restore her good mood.

It was one of the sweetest thing she’s ever experienced in a lifetime where most people have showed her their worst, going into that bathroom and finding a new toothbrush, stick of deodorant, nail clippers, hairbrush, and even shampoo. That and Barnes bashfully informing her that, “I’ll stay in the living room until you’re done. Take your time.” She almost suggested that he just join her in an attempt to broach the subject they left off on two nights ago, but thought better of it. She’s just started to strip when a knock comes from the other side of the wall.

“Sorry. I just remembered that I forgot to give you a change of clothes. Can I leave them outside the door?” A smile forms on her face.

“Sure. Go ahead.” No one’s given this much thought to her comfort or boundaries before. Yet another reason she knows this is the right decision.

She doesn’t stay in the shower for long, just enough time to wash and stop shivering. After toweling off and brushing out her hair, she cracks open the door. Sure enough, a worn but clean tshirt and pair of pajama bottoms are waiting for her. The familiar scent of the laundry detergent he uses envelopes her as she dresses and, at long last, leaves the safety of the bathroom.

True to his word, he’s still sitting on the couch, thumbing through a book she gave him some months back (he’s missed so many feats of literature that have made their way into pop culture; today’s choice is The Hobbit because, while it was out before everything happened to him, he’s never read it) when she emerges. Just in case he’s so absorbed that he hasn’t heard her, she repeats his gesture from earlier and knocks softly on the wall.

“Hey. I’m out. You can have your apartment back.”

“Hey.” That smile always makes her feel slightly unsteady on her feet. “Find everything okay?”

“I did.” She settles into the place next to him. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to go out and get supplies.”

“I know.” He nods, hand closing around hers. “But I wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed.”

They chat for a while about their days, discuss what they should do with the weekend ahead, even throw out ideas for dinner. The entire time, she’s trying to figure out the best way to bring up that she’d really like to finish what they started the other night. However, by the time he’s left to grab some sort of takeout, she’s still no closer to an answer.

Fortunately, their dates usually follow a pattern. Food, a movie, and then the not-so-innocent cuddles. This time, he’s on top of her when she feels the tell-tale sign that he’s as fired up as she is, so she suggests,

“Do want to maybe move to somewhere more comfortable?” His already dilated pupils grow even larger, and he nods.

“Yeah. That sounds like a plan.” She waits for him to roll off of her and head towards the bedroom before she grabs her purse and, digging around inside, grabs one of the foil packages she bought after their last date.

It’s only once she closes the door behind her, shutting them into an enclosed space with a bed (not to mention it’s pretty damn clear what both of their intentions are), that nerves get the better of her. He takes a step towards her, and she leans up to kiss him, but he ducks his head out of the way.

“You’re shaking.” His hand ghosts over her arm, making it obvious that, by comparison, she’s practically vibrating on the spot.

“Sorry.” She chuckles nervously. “It’ll pass.”

“It’s alright.” As he says it, he meets her eyes. “We can stop. Nothing has to happen.”

“I know.” She nods, swallowing hard. “But I want it to.” Their lips briefly meet before he pulls away again.

“Let me ask you, just before we get started, is this-” He stops short, eyes darting from her face to the wall and back again. “...have you… before?” Oh. “Not that it matters, not to me, I just wanted to know so that-”

“I have.” She nods, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “Once. I was eighteen, and-” It was awful. She’d been seeing the guy for a few months and he kept whining about her not putting out, so she decided to get it over with. He went in dry without any warning, and when she asked him to stop, give her a second to adjust, he told her he couldn’t. She was bleeding and in pain for days afterwards, and to top it off, when her period was late, she thought that, even though he’d pulled out, she was pregnant. That turned out not to be the case, but it, along with the fact that she usually doesn’t stay in one place for very long, has put a damper on her ever wanting to do that again. Except for now. “-it wasn’t a great experience.”

“I’m sorry.” On instinct, she searches for the judgment in his face, the disgust. It’s nowhere to be found, only genuine sympathy. “I’ll do my best to make sure this time is better. That is, if you’re still up to it.”

“I am.” Not waiting for a reply, she wraps her arms around him and starts trailing kisses up his neck towards his ear. “I am. I trust you.” She hears his breath catch, but before she can comment, he’s hoisted her up and is carrying her in the direction of the bed.

As he sets her down, she pulls him on top of her, letting her hands wander over his sides, up his back. After a few moments, she feels his fingers move from her hips to toy with the hem of her… his.. shirt.

“Is this okay? Can I take this off?” She starts to nod, but remembers just in time that he’s so close, they’d butt heads.

“Please.” She expected to feel exposed once she was at least partially undressed, but instead she feels… adored. His eyes are roaming over her newly exposed skin, though his hands have respectfully returned to her waist. In a moment of confidence, she reaches behind her and unhooks her bra. There. Now she’s completely shirtless.

“You’re so beautiful.” The flush from her cheeks is spreading down her neck, but she still smiles.

“Care to make things even?” It’s brief, but she catches the look of hesitation.

“Sure.” Before she can offer to do it, he shrugs his shirt over his head, revealing to her, for the first time, the entirity of his metal arm. She must look for a moment too long, because with a shrug, he informs her, “I can put my shirt back on. No big deal. I know there’s some scarring…” That’s not going to fly. She needs to reassure him, make him feel as desired as he’s made her feel.

“Or if you want to stop-” She stands and, after briefly making eye contact, places a kiss on the most prominent scar.

“Don’t you dare think that way for a second.” They’re flush against each other, chest to bare chest. “Not for one.” Slowly, she slides her hands from his shoulders down to his waist, hesitating just over the button. “Is this okay?” Another shakey breath.

“Yes.”

Going forward, it’s much less awkward. The rest of their clothing is shed, and soon they’re back to their previous position; on the bed, with him on top of her. She feels his fingertips brush the inside of her thigh and gasps.

“May I touch you?” She nods.

“You’d better.”

It’s gentle, more of him feeling her out than anything else. Still, she can’t help but think this is infinitely better already than last time around. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away, and it takes all her effort not to whine at the loss of contact. Before she can ask if something’s wrong, does he want to stop, he’s flat on his stomach, head between her legs.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“What-” Her breath catches as it becomes infinitely clear what he’s doing.

Again, she’s expecting pain when, after several minutes he eases a finger into her, but at this point, she’s so wet that there’s absolutely no difficulty.

“Are you okay?” She nods.

“Don’t stop.”

The process is agonizingly slow, he’s so intent on his task. When, finally, he pulls away, she’s so close that she can almost taste it.

“Do you still want to-”

“If you don’t stop asking me that, I’m gonna slap you.” It’s a joke, and she thinks he knows it, but just to be sure, she siezes his hand (the metal one, which is usually cold but has now warmed from being held close against her body. “I’m ready, so long as you want this too.”

“I do. You wouldn’t believe how much.” Yeah, she thinks she would. “Just give me a second.” Perfect timing. He rolls off of her, which gives her the opening she needs to grab the packet she managed to hide under the pillow while he was… otherwise distracted. When he returns from digging inside the wardrobe, she holds it up, only to realize-

“Oh.” He’s got one as well. “Seems like we both came prepared.”

He chuckles. “Just in case, although that wasn’t why I asked you to stay.”

“I know.” She nods and pats the space next to her. “Not why I said yes either, although I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

He returns to the bed and drops his packet onto the nightstand. “Save this one for later?”

“Definitely.”

There is a bit of discomfort once he starts to push inside her, but it’s not painful. Just… overwhelming. Slightly embarassed she asks,

“Can you wait a second? Please?”

“Of course. Are you alright?” She shifts her hips slightly, making them both groan.

“Fine. You can move now.”

She may have only done this once before, and she has no idea what his experience consists of, but as she hits her peak mere seconds before he does, gently coaxed over the edge, she can’t help but think some things are better the second time around.

“I love you.” It’s whispered against her neck as, once she cleans up and returns to bed, she settles herself against him.

“I love you too.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing he thinks when he realizes that he’s not alone in bed is that HYDRA’s found him. He’s being activated. His eyes shoot open although apart from that he doesn’t move a muscle, and that’s when he recognizes the person next to him. It’s her. She’s here.

The events of last night come back to him all at once, and he feels a smile forming on his face. It’s been a while, and in any case, it would be wrong to run a comparison, but what they shared, the pure intimacy of it both physically and mentally was incredible. Maybe he should feel a sense of shame. That’s what he was taught growing up. But instead he feels… peaceful.

That is, until her eyelids flutter and she rolls over, shifting the covers so that he gets a good view of her still naked body, and with it, the bruises on her thighs and hips. Bruises unmistakably left by his fingers. Dammit. He’s done the last thing he ever wanted to do: he’s hurt her.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” She yawns, the teasing words muffled. “It seems like we overslept.”

His mouth goes dry, and all he can manage to choke out is a simple, “Yeah.”

She frowns, sitting up slightly, and lets out a small groan. “You alright there, Bucky? You look a little off.” The late morning light only serves to highlight more marks he’s left, this time on her shoulders, neck, and breasts. Stubble burn. Hickeys. Why the hell was he so rough? At the time, he thought he was being gentle, but obviously he’s just as much of a monster as Bucky Barnes as he is once the Winter Soldier takes over.

She’s still staring at him, brow furrowing in concern.

“Fine.” He clears his throat and begins to sit up. “Stay here. I’ll make you a cup of tea, maybe some oatmeal.”

“Alright. Don’t be gone too long.”

Her words follow him out of the room, and into the kitchen. Fuck. He should’ve known better.

Maybe once upon a time, he was a decent man, one who could be with a woman like her and not do her a disservice. But now, it’s clear that he falls short in every way. In an act that was supposed to be pure pleasure, a way of communicating how much they mean to each other, he’s hurt her.

“I trust you.” The words from last night ring in his ears. He shouldn’t have let her. It’s pretty damn obvious that, even at the best of times, he can’t be trusted.

“Tell me what’s going on.” Even with his enhanced senses, he still jumps in surprise as the unexpected words come from behind him. He turns around slowly, not wanting to startle her. She’s standing there, clad in only one of his shirts, arms crossed over her chest (now bearing his marks), staring him down.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head.

“Bullshit. I had a vision of you staring off into space, and here you are, jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” At another time, her choice in phrases would make him chuckle, but right now, he can’t muster it.

“Last night-” Her eyes widen, but she stays silent. “I hurt you.”

“No, you didn’t. Not at all.”

“I did.”

She frowns. “Bucky, I think I’d know if you’d hurt me, and I’m telling you, I’m fine.”

“Doll, look at yourself!” He reaches out to take her arm, but immediately freezes. “Go in the bathroom and take off your shirt. Take a good look in the mirror and then tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Alright.” Her jaw clenches, and she marches off in the direction of the bathroom. A deep sickness gnaws at the pit of his stomach and, completely worn out, he sinks into a kitchen chair.

Not thirty seconds pass before she walks back into the room, this time completely undressed.

“Tell me you’re not talking about a few love bites.”

“And bruises! You may not have noticed, but they’re in the exact shape of my fingertips.”

“Oh my god!” She shakes her head. “It’s a sex injury. A minor one at that! If you didn’t heal so damn fast, you’d probably have nail marks all over your back!”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“How is it not the same thing?”

“I’m a monster! And you’re not.”

She takes a determined step towards him, and he leans as far back as the chair will allow.

“Bucky, you are not a monster, and I am not afraid of you.”

“Then you’re stupid.” He hates himself for his sharp words, but she needs to take this seriously. Underestimating how dark, how evil he can be, is a mistake. A deadly one.

“Hey!”

“Don’t you get it?” Without any input from his brain, he stands. “They could find me, and with a few words, I could stare you dead in the eyes as I murdered you! If you were my mission, I wouldn’t even hesitate, and you’d be dead before your body hit the floor!” Her mouth falls open, but she immediately closes it again. “This isn’t something that can be worked through with some patience and a positive attitude! I could kill you!”

“So could a million other things!” Her voice rises in volume, and before he can contain it-

“But they’re not in the bed sleeping next to you!” He’s shouting at her. God. Everyone is right. He’s beyond saving.

A few tense seconds pass before she looks up at him, a steely look in her eyes.

“Look, I get it. I know what you could do to me.” As she speaks, she pulls out a chair and sits. “But I could also get run over when I cross the road, or the room could fill with carbon monoxide while I sleep. I could have an aneurysm and drop before anyone knows what’s happening.”

He opens his mouth to tell her the likelihood of any of those things happening is far lower than the chance that he’ll hurt her, this time in a major way, but she holds up a hand, silencing him.

“I’m gonna be cautious, but I’m also not going to live my life in fear that the ceiling is going to collapse or nuclear war is going to strike, or that someone is gonna turn up and say the magic words that make you go cuckoo for cocoa puffs-” What? “-and I just realized you’re too old for that reference.”

“That’s another thing-” He’s about to remind her exactly how big their age gap is, that although he’s physically close to her age, chronologically, he’s closer to the age of her great grandfather, but she lets out a sudden groan of frustration, and that makes him bite his tongue.

“Oh, fuck off, Barnes! If you’re about to start in on how you’re too old for me, then I’m not gonna wait for you to go full Winter Soldier before I kick your ass!” Out of all things, that’s what snaps him out of it, makes him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance they can make the best of things.

Smirking, he asks her,

“You think you could kick my ass? Really?” It must be the breaking point for her too, because she snickers.

“Of course. It’s the little bitches you have to watch out for.” That’s it, he’s laughing, nearly doubled over, and from the looks of things, she’s in much the same state.

“You’re something else, you know that?” He asks between stilted breaths.

“I think we both fit in that category, Pal.” Her smile fades, but only slightly. “Bucky, if you really want me to go, if that’s what’ll give you peace, then I’ll do it, but I meant what I said. I trust you.” Never. He’ll never want her to go, he’s sure of it. Well then, that only leaves one option.

“I know what we’re doing today.” It’s an abrupt segue, but it’s the only thing he could come up with on short notice.

“And what’s that?” The microwave dings, reminding him that he needs to stir the oatmeal, and he pushes past her.

“Sit down and have your tea. You’re going to need all your energy if I’m gonna show you how to use a gun.” If she’s staying, then at least he can teach her how to defend herself beyond the basics she already knows.

“So I guess this means you’re keeping me around for a little while longer?” It’s spoken like a joke, but he turns to her, meeting her eyes to drive the point home.

“Yeah, Doll. As long as you want me."

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #pre civil war

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3pirouette · 4 years ago

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The Honey Trap (5/?)

Title: The Honey Trap

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

A/N- Keep an eye ont he time stamps- it brings us back to chapter one somewhere around the middle- then we’re moving on from there with less jumping around :)

Chapter Summary: The holes in their story kept her up some nights. He acknowledged them, and often. She felt like he was trying to appease her, but every now and again it tickled something in her gut that made her queasy.

Chapter 5: How It’s Supposed to Go

~*~ November, 1944

There were bugs in the kitchen and sightlines out of the living area to a Hydra surveillance flat across the street, but Peggy thanked their lucky stars no one surveilled the shared loo or Richard’s bedroom.

She’d done things she wasn’t proud of before for her work, but repeatedly sleeping with a man she neither was married to or loved in any way was crossing a line she wasn’t prepared to step over.

Not when she still believed Steve was waiting for her and loving her.

She didn’t mind the kissing, was only occasionally bothered by the wandering hands on the couch, and she’d gotten very good at pushing him away and playing coy, at protesting that the shades were wide open and someone could see, before leaving early for the night or slipping into his bedroom.

Richard was also getting very, very good at sleeping on the floor.

“They’re less suspicious, you know, now that you’ve started staying over,” he observed, fluffing his pillow and dropping it at his feet. He smiled at her.

Peggy shook her head, unbuckling her shoes but not taking another thing off before slipping under the blanket on the bed. “Pigs, if you ask me. A woman’s desire to know a man biblically before they’re married has nothing to do with how much she loves him or how devoted she is to him.”

“I never said they were smart. Or understood anything.” He pulled his tie off and started loosening the buttons if his shirt. “If they were smart, they wouldn’t believe us at all.” He pulled it off and set it to the side, sliding out of his belt as well, but staying in his undershirt and trousers. “Our cover is good, but it isn’t foolproof.”

“Hardly,” she snorted, knowing that the holes in their story kept her up some nights. He acknowledged them, and often. She felt like he was trying to appease her, but every now and again it tickled something in her gut that made her queasy. Peggy leaned over and stripped the top quilt, handing it to him. “I’m starting to wonder why they haven’t questioned it more.”

Richard Wallace, Peggy had found, could be a hard man to read. The one thing she enjoyed about their little charade was that in his bedroom, more than any other place she’d ever been with him, he let his guard down. He frowned at her, and she could see the dark circles under his eyes and the frustration in his shoulders. “They’re desperate.” He shook his head and kneeled, setting up his little bed across from her. “I’ve never seen these men so scared and at the same time so daunting. The things they want to accomplish, and the lengths they’ll go to get them…” He sighed, sitting down heavily. “These men are so much scarier than Hitler, Carter. The things I’ve heard… We can’t let them win. Whatever it takes.”

Peggy knew, without a doubt, that he meant it. Even in the dark, the fear in his eyes was real.

~*~ The Same Night, 500 miles away at the French border

Bucky elbowed Steve, getting his attention and passing the canteen over. “I’m not missing the corn ring,” he joked, looking out into the night, his voice soft, “though I could do with a little turkey and gravy.”

Steve smiled a bit, a happy sound on his lips as he finished a gulp of the whisky. “Your ma’s gravy…” He hummed happily and slipped the canteen back to Bucky. It was a quiet night, and they were in friendly territory, which made it almost safe to spend their watch reminiscing about today being Thanksgiving.

“Yeah, and then a slice of your mom’s apple pie.” Bucky smacked his lips loudly, taking another swig of the whisky before he sealed the canteen and slipped it back into his pack. He looked out into the darkness, shaking his head. “I miss that apple pie.”

“Me too,” Steve whispered softly, the happy memories mingling with the loss of his mother that would never leave him fully.

Bucky sensed his melancholy and elbowed him. “She ever teach you how to make it?” Bucky smiled at his friend. “When we get home, you can make a million bucks with it. Everyone would eat it up, literally. Imagine it: Captain America’s All American Apple Pie.”

Steve laughed lightly, shrugging. “She worked off a recipe from my grandmother. It’s all stained and half smudged, but it’s at home, in the trunk I left at your Ma’s, I think.”

“We’ll take it on tour, like the USO.” Steve smiled as Bucky started spinning the tale, his excitement something easy to lose himself in. “We’ll have stands at every state fair from Brooklyn to San Francisco.”

“As long as I don’t have to dance.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Dance? Nah. We give you an apron and a spoon and you’ll have all kinds of girls just eating outta your hands.”

Bucky saw the way his lips turned down even though he tried to avoid letting anything show. Bucky let out a long, slow breath and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “When are you going to tell me?” he asked softly.

Steve barely even moved his lips he was so stoic. “Nothing to tell, you know that.”

“What I know,” he started carefully, “is that all of a sudden, you two started acting stupid, then Phillips missed a detail the size of a blimp, and then instead of getting rid of you, who he’s considered a thorn in his side since the day you showed up at Lehigh, he shipped off his right hand woman and best spy to the typing pool.”

“Senator Brandt—”

“Senator Brandt my ass,” Bucky didn’t let him finish, and his frustration made his words harsh and clipped. “There are plenty of other bases they could have sent you to, hell- the Pacific theater’s been begging to get the 107th for months.” The way Steve wouldn’t look at him told Bucky all he needed to know. He softened, “So it’s bullshit?”

“It’s not—" Steve huffed, shaking his head and letting it fall into his hands.

“You can’t tell me.” It wasn’t a question, and he tried to keep it from being an accusation.

“No, I can’t.”

“We have the same clearance—”

“Not for this we don’t.” Steve almost barked. “No one has clearance for this.” The fight left his words and his frame. “It’s not even... there’s no paper trail even. Strictly need to know, full deniability.” Steve looked his friend in the eyes sadly, “As far as anyone knows, yourself included, we fucked up. Badly. And she paid the price. And that’s all there is to know.” Steve let his head fall again, watching as he drew patterns in the dirt with the toe of his boot.

Bucky filled long moments of quiet with pulling the whisky out again and slowly unscrewing the cap. He wasn’t sure what he could ask and what he couldn’t, but he knew he couldn’t leave it where it was. He took a long, slow breath and a quick swing of the burning liquid. He passed it over and rubbed his hands together, waiting until Steve had swallowed before speaking again. “Were you… did you…?”

His voice was almost too quiet to hear. “Once we heard what was at stake? We agreed to it, yeah.”

“And is it… is it over between the two of you? For real?”

Bucky looked at him, but Steve didn’t lift his gaze from the ground. “I hope not.”

Bucky rubbed his palms together slowly, not knowing what to say or do. His friend had held it in for so long, and he knew if he pushed too hard, Steve would let it all out and then hate himself even more in the morning. “Well, we better get looking for that apple pie recipe, huh? If you’re gonna have to win her back, better put your best foot forward.”

Steve almost, almost laughed.

~*~ December, 1944

Her heart was pounding in her chest. It had been months since she’d seen him, and she was supposed to somehow keep her cool.

Wallace had arranged it. He’d be arranging all of it from now on, which she didn’t particularly like. Peggy played with her wine glass, only half listening to the woman across from her. The microdot plastered to the back of her tooth tickled her tongue, and she had to sip the wine in such a way that it didn’t dislodge the precarious gluing job she’d done.

Her stomach was sick with worry and anticipation. If her companion for the evening didn’t buy the little skit they were about to put on, if she noticed that Peggy enjoyed kissing Steve a little too much or if she looked him his eyes a little too long, the whole thing could go up in flames.

The whole operation moving forward, and all they’d sacrificed up until now to get here, hinged on Ava, the girlfriend of a Hydra General, believing that she loathed Captain America enough that she’d betray him.

She didn’t even have to look to know when he walked in, she could feel the hairs on her arms rise. She took a deep breath, and turned her head.

~*~ January 2, 1945

The middle of the day was a risk she didn’t like. The harbor was a risk she didn’t like. Out in the open was a risk she didn’t like. Pretending to “run into him” was a plan she didn’t like.

Peggy wasn’t supposed to be a spy, she was supposed to be a scorned, confused woman willing to sell out the Allied powers for true love. No matter how long she lived with this cover, she didn’t think it would get any easier.

She wasn’t supposed to know Wallace was out there with one of the Hydra agents, watching her every move and listening to every word. Those above him had come up with the plan, had fed Wallace the idea who’d sent it to Phillips in a coded newspaper ad before he’d even run it by her. He’d made a convincing argument that trying to come up with a better plan would out them, and they needed to be one step ahead.

Somehow, she still felt like she was one step behind. She hated not being in control of the operation, not having final say on what she did or how she did it. The lack of input was starting to sew a seed of distrust in her. She wanted to believe Wallace, wanted to trust him, but he was cutting her out and partners didn’t do that when so much was on the line.

She was finding that little hint of queasiness deep in her gut was starting to happen more and more often. It was setting her on edge, and jeopardizing the mission.

She was going to find a way to change that.

She turned into the wind, letting it push her hair behind her instead of in her face. It wasn’t long before she could hear the footfalls behind her. He stopped only a few feet away, far enough that she couldn’t quite feel the heat from his body. She turned, shaking her head to keep the tendrils of hair out of her face. “How did you find me?”

He looked out over the harbor then back to her, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s not like you’re hiding.”

She could see how he fought to keep the smile off his face, she had to bite her tongue to keep from giving up any emotion at the sight of him. “I’ve said all—”

“And I haven’t, Peggy.” He stepped closer, moving to trap her in against the rail quickly. Her heart fluttered as she realized that he’d turned her just enough to keep their faces out of Hydra’s sight line. He pressed his forehead against hers, and she couldn’t stop herself from clutching at him, wrapping her arms around him under his coat. “I miss you so, so much, Peg.”

He pulled back just enough to see her lips, and she couldn’t keep the sadness out of her eyes when she mouthed me too to him just before she spoke. “And I haven’t spent a moment thinking about you at all, Steve.”

She saw him take a deep breath before pulling away. “That’s a lie.”

“I’ve moved on,” she touted, pushing away from him and back into view of the surveillance team. She let clutching at her jacket in the wind cover the sleight of hand where she pulled the coded message from his belt and slipped it into her own pocket.

“Please,” he begged, his own desperation easily seeping through the words. “Hear me out. Just… just talk. Dinner, maybe?”

She pretended to think it over, spent long seconds pushing the hair out of her face when she wanted to jump at the chance to be with him for more than a few seconds. “I’m seeing someone new.”

She couldn’t tell if the hurt was real or feigned, but the way his shoulders sagged made her heart ache just the same. The wind whipped up around them and he stepped forward, taming her hair behind her ear and taking her face in his hands. His kiss was soft, and so much more than their last rushed one was where they were fighting for the little dot of film between their tongues. This was soft, and filled with emotions. It was the “I love yous” they couldn’t say, the lonely nights and the frustrating days, the gentle ache that was always there while they were forced to be apart.

It was over far too soon.

He stepped back, just out of reach. He looked like he was coiled up tight, holding himself back from kissing her again. “The pub at the crossroads, you know it?”

Peggy nodded, unable to trust her voice.

“I’ll be there tonight at seven.” He swallowed hard, eyes pleading. This wasn’t part of the plan. The plan was a few chance encounters. A tidbit of dropped information here and there. Her constant refusals and her continued allegiance to Richard and Hydra. Not whatever was starting to come to life behind Steve’s eyes.

She was terrified and thrilled at the same time. It might risk it all, but it could finally give her a chance to take control of the little game they were playing. “Steve…” she croaked out, unsure of what she could say, how she could convey the emotions and the tactical necessity of what they were about to do.

He stepped forward swiftly, kissing her again. It was quick and passionate and everything she needed to be reminded to trust him, just like she always had. He left his forehead pressed against hers. “I won’t go another day without you, I won’t.”

His hand reached for hers, and when she laced her fingers with his, she felt another note, one that she hadn’t been expecting. She palmed it quickly and pulled back, crossing her arms and slipping the note into the inner pocket of her jacket. “You’re assuming a lot.”

“The pub. Seven.” He looked her up and down, then started backing away, slowly. “I’ll wait for you.”

She watched him until there was nothing left but a speck on the horizon, and kept her eyes peeled for him even when that speck turned past a building and couldn’t be seen anymore. Richard came up behind her, right on cue, just as Steve was nothing but a memory.

It had been the plan that she was “supposed” to be meeting Richard. That Steve was “supposed” to find her and beg her to come back, which would fuel her need to betray him even more. She turned and looked at Richard, who was smiling at her and babbling away about where they should go for lunch, “unaware” of what had just happened.

She was sick and tired of what she was “supposed” to do.

She followed him down the walk along the harbor and to a small stand that sold fish and chips. They weren’t as flavorful as she wanted them to be, and the vinegar tasted old and too sharp on her tongue, but few things seemed to be what she wanted them to be lately. Richard rambled on in the background as they paced the small waterfront in full view and in good hearing range of the Hydra agent.

She’d play her part, for now. “I saw Steve,” she blurted, stopping and waiting for him to turn to her, picking at the chips in the newspaper in her hand. “He’s still… he’s still hopeful.”

Richard tried to hide his smile. “And you’re…”

She sighed. She was supposed to say something like angry. Or upset. Or vengeful. She was supposed to make it so easy, too easy, for Hydra to want to use her for information. But she wasn’t an idiot, and neither were the spies Hydra employed. Sometime between the meat locker and now, something had changed, and no one was telling Peggy what that was or what it meant for the op. She was done leaving her fate in the hands of other men.

“I’m uninterested,” she replied quickly, “but I am going to meet him tonight. Hear him out.”

Richard blanched before her. “Maggie, do you really…”

“I want to hear what the man who ruined my life has to say for himself,” she huffed out, starting to walk again towards his flat. “Let’s get inside, it’s far too cold out here.”

~*~

Once inside the flat she let him kiss her, like she always did, and let him move her to the bedroom where he held his hand out for the little slip of paper she’d procured from Steve once the door was closed.

They both read it quickly. The encryption was simple, and she was convinced more than ever it was for show. She didn’t need a piece of paper to tell her that the 107th would be heading back to the front in three days, it was in half the communications she encrypted on a daily basis this week. She knew more about troop movements just from being a part of the typing pool than he was getting from this. “This is fantastic,” Richard smiled at her, pocketing the paper. “You don’t need to go see him now, we have what we need.”

Peggy smiled, but shook her head. “I think I need to go. Make a good show of it, you know?”

“You don’t—”

“I do.” She was calm but firm, and stepped back from him. “A woman doesn’t just walk away from a man like Captain America, especially if he’s coming to find me.” She tried to let the smile she faked be a balm. “It will be more suspicious if I don’t go, trust me.”

She saw the flicker of concern in his eyes before he nodded, giving in with what appeared to be good humor. “Very well. You’re not the best for nothing.”

Peggy turned, picking up her coat on the way out of his flat. Damn right, she was the best, and that was what made it so easy to see through the game he was playing.

It was only a few blocks to her own flat, which she knew was bugged and under watch, as well. She hummed and dawdled, picking out a dress and pretending, for all intents and purposes, that she was fairly unbothered by her meeting tonight.

Maggie would be unbothered, but Peggy was downright anxious. She couldn’t pinpoint where the nervousness ended and the anticipation began, but the pub he’d picked was an Allied strong hold. Even if a Hydra agent made his way in there, the men in there would cover their backs. If not for Peggy, then absolutely for Steve.

She palmed the second note Steve gave her, even though she was fairly certain they couldn’t see into her apartment with the windows closed, and slipped into the bathroom. She turned the shower on full blast and hummed loudly as she unfolded the scrap.

It was a receipt for one lighter. Peggy looked it over, tried to apply every decryption she thought Steve would know, and a few she knew he wouldn’t, to the scant few words and numbers, but came out with gibberish. She was about to give up when she had an idea.

Peggy pulled over the candle she kept of the vanity after finding out the hard way the loo was the last place she wanted to be without matches or a candle when a blackout hit or the air raid sirens went off. She lit it and blew out the match, a smile forming on her face. Very slowly she let the paper sit over the flame, the heat permeating it and the words slowly becoming visible.

“My clever, clever darling,” she whispered to herself, pulling it away when she was sure the full message was visible.

It was a string of numbers that only the Commandos used to create short messages to one another. The combination was simple, but effective, once she translated it in her head.

Danger. Cover blown.

Peggy passed the paper over the flame one more time to make sure she hadn’t missed anything as her heart pounded in her chest, then lit the corner on fire and dropped it in the sink, watching it burn until the paper was nothing but ash. She turned on the tap and let the remnants flow down the drain, mind moving quickly.

She was meeting Steve in a few hours. Until then, she had to make it seem like business as usual. Tonight, he was either pulling her out, or they were going to make a play for something bigger.

She wasn’t sure which option she wanted, but she knew now she had an even better partner, one she trusted completely, and the queasiness she’d been feeling was gone.

#Steggy Fic #steggy bingo bash #3P's Fic #The Honey Trap

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tintinwrites · 5 years ago

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euphemism | Modern!Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: Blame @damerondjarin for supporting this when I was looking for 40′s/50′s sex euphemisms and we ended up laughing about the dumb ones!!

Rating: M

Warning: Naughty words. Sexual content. Oral (M and F receiving kind of). Quite a bit of weird euphemisms for sex and oral from the past that are real and can be found here and here.

Word count: 1,889, apparently!!

Summary: 6 Times Your Euphemisms Made Poe Almost Cry and One Time He Was Cool With It.

Tags: @dogsandrocketsocks @himbopoes @agentpike @greengrassandcyansea @arkofblake @bunkybarnesbxtch @itsamedeemoney (this is when you beg me to never tag you in anything ever again)

---------------------------

You and Poe had been married for four beautiful, wonderful months now.

You were together for two years full of romance and amazing sex, and you were joining each other on yet another wonderful journey that somehow made the romance and sex even more fun.

He loved you so much.

He pretty much told you that every day; he’d be staring at you and say it in this wistful tone that either turned you on or made you cry depending on your mood.

“I love you so much,” he huffed as you leaned over the back of the couch to hug his shoulders.

“You want to boil my cabbage?” You pressed a kiss to his temple.

That wasn’t something he thought you’d ask with how cute you were being, but he was always happy to help you cook dinner and he turned his head to peck you on the lips then moved to his feet with a dramatic grunt at the movement.

He shuffled into the kitchen in search of the cabbage, looking high and low in the fridge and even bending over to peek behind the bottom shelf.

“Where’s the cabbage, baby?” He opened the crisper, but none of the vegetables in there seemed to be a head of cabbage.

“Not that kind of cabbage, Poe. This kind.” Your words were followed by a light thump.

Poe turned around with his mouth open to ask what you meant when his jaw dropped instead, finding that little thump had been your robe falling on the floor and you were now sitting on the counter with your legs open wide.

Were you referring to your pussy as...cabbage?

He was confused and a little frightened.

But he was also pretty sure you were asking for sex and he was perfectly willing to step between your legs with a grin even if your request was a little strange.

--------------------

Poe moaned, moving his fingertips up and down your back as you pressed the sweetest kisses to his neck. “That’s it, pretty girl…”

You kissed along his collarbone then down his chest, enjoying the access his nakedness offered on this early morning.

The muscles in his belly twitched at your tongue darting out on his skin, a little groan falling from his lips when you continued licking, kissing, and nipping down his belly right above where he really wanted your mouth.

Of course, you did not disappoint, kissing along his shaft, then running your tongue back up to his tip where you sucked on him gently.

“Mmm,” the vibration made him moan loudly as you took him as far in your mouth as you could without gagging and pulled back to stroke him slowly.

“You’re such a sweetheart…” His tug on your hair was gentle.

“My own pricknic.” You breathed softly over his tip, looking up at him.

“Oh, ye— wait, what?” His lustful eyes were open wide now at whatever the fuck you’d just said.

Pricknic?

Like the thing with the checkered blanket and the basket and the sandwiches, but with his cock put in there somewhere?

He might have asked you what drugs you’d taken or what alcohol you’d drank this early in the morning if your mouth taking in his cock again wasn’t that damn distracting.

-----------------------------

Whenever Poe decided to workout, it was half-actually needing to exercise and half-knowing you would stare at him with the horniest look in your eyes.

He always made sure to work up a sweat since he knew that was your favorite, grunting and groaning in the most obscene way he possibly could.

It was doing the trick as usual since you were sitting on the arm of the couch watching him do push-ups like you were watching some incredible show you refused to take your eyes off of.

He pretended he didn’t see you until he really wanted to be inside you, moving to his knees and letting out a little ‘whew’ as he grabbed his ice cold bottle of water to take a long, obvious sip that made his Adam's apple bob with each gulp.

“You need somethin’, sugar?” His tone would sound innocent if you were a total idiot who didn’t know him inside and out.

“How’d you like to exercise the ferret, too?” You purred, stroking his wet curls.

He was going to say that you didn’t own a ferret unless you’d bought one in the night and hidden it from him, but then something clicked.

This wasn’t the first time you had said something odd when you really meant sex and he supposed that exercise was a typical euphemism for sex and ferret kind of made sense in a totally creepy way what with the fur and teeth.

Now he really didn’t want to have sex the more he thought about his dick being a ferret.

The utter disappointment in his eyes almost made you feel guilty for saying it.

“Can you please just ask if I want to fuck you or something?”

“My mama taught me not to say that kind of word.”

“—you literally said it eight times when I was pounding you last week. See, pounding is a very, very sexy one. I would also accept ‘plowing’ as a way to ask for sex.”

“Plow me? Like I’m a field?”

He knew your offended look was fake since your lips were begging to laugh, but he still fell with his face nuzzled into your lap. “My penis is not a furry little tube thing with legs and sharp teeth.”

---------------------------

“Fuck. Fuck.”

You were the hottest person on the planet.

How could Poe not think this as you sat with him in the backseat of the car, outside of the restaurant you’d finished dining at, giving him the best possible handjob ever?

He was thrusting up into your hand as he held onto the back of the seat, teeth bared with each growl and moan that you blissfully stroked out of him.

You always made it worth it when you’d tease him and you did tease him with your hand a little too high on his inner thigh.

On a double date, no less, where he had to pretend that he didn’t want to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you over a sink.

But, again, you made it entirely worth it by satisfying him with a semi-public handjob that would most definitely be repaid with some semi-public tongue in your pussy.

Speaking of tongues, you were shifting to kneel on the floor of the car and hovering your lips over his tip.

He really loved you.

“Want a little sucky-sucky?”

His animalistic posture dropped, staring at you then slowly pulling away from you.

“What are you doing?” You pouted, reaching out for him.

He shook his head and moved a little bit towards the door.

“Baby, stop, come here.”

“I am going to get out of this car and you are going to run me over with it for having to listen to you say that.”

----------------------

You felt a little guilty for all the times you’d kind of turned Poe off and lately all you had was nice, normal sex.

Well, the candle wax wasn’t really normal, but it was fun and it didn’t involve any of your weird euphemisms you’d dug up from the pits of hell themselves.

Poe really wasn’t mad about any of the silly things as much as he was a little grossed out by the things people would say to allude to the idea of having sex, and it was slightly hard to be turned on by a lot of them.

He was obviously still in love with you and happy to have sex with you, which was clear as he crawled into bed next to you and tossed your book aside to lay himself on top of you.

You moaned into his deep kiss, moving your fingers through his curls and gently scratching his scalp.

That was his absolute favorite and you were the best and—

“Are you ready to take a turn among the cabbage, my love?”

—you were a fucking monster is what you really were.

“What is it with you and the fucking cabbage?” He rolled off you and moved off the bed without another word, stepping into his boots.

“Where are you going?” You sat up on your elbows.

“I want kimchi now.”

“Ooh, I want bibimbap if you’re going anyway!”

----------------------------

Poe was kind of starting to like it when you were too turned on to do much more than moan, cuss, whimper, and praise his skills.

He’d always liked it, but now it meant that you weren’t thinking about the weird things you could say to ruin the mood like usual.

Sometimes he wondered why you were doing this sort of thing to him.

Maybe you were joking around with him or maybe you were seeing his limits to being turned on considering that one time you jokingly mentioned biting his ass and he railed you there over the arm of the couch for it.

Not that it mattered right now, when he was peppering teasing kisses on your inner thighs right outside of the area where your hips were bucking in search of his tongue.

This was probably all another way to tease him since he always loved teasing you, and he decided to give you exactly what you wanted in hopes that you would start saying nicer things like ‘fuck’ and ‘blowjob’.

His tongue hardly dipped between your folds when you moaned out, “That’s right, yodel in my canyon of love.”

That was…

A lot of the sayings you chose were on the verge of gross, but this one matched with the little smirk his gaze landed on ruined the mood in a different way.

He pressed his face into your thigh and started laughing so hard that tears were falling from his eyes.

Your leg was shaking beneath his nose as you giggled along with him and, hell, maybe that was your goal all along.

-----------------------

Poe was happy that the euphemisms finally seemed to slow down; you were apparently appeased by him finally laughing along with you rather than being creeped out.

It was all pretty funny now that he looked back on the stupid comments.

Now you were sitting on the couch together and he was stroking over your shoulder with his arm laying behind you, and the look in your eyes as you looked up at him was familiar.

Fuck, he loved when you looked at him like you could eat him up.

He leaned down to kiss you suggestively and you said against his lips, “I want to have a bit of cock.”

Then he yanked back out of instinct, his brow furrowed disappointedly. “Would you stop—”

He paused as the words processed in his mind and he thought them over a little.

Wait a minute…

“—that was actually hot.” He dove onto you to the sound of your delighted yelp, pushing you back on the couch as he kissed you passionately.

One of your hands went to stroke his cheek sweetly and the other tugged on his hair, smiling up at him when he pulled away.

“You meant a lot of cock, though, right? My dick is pretty damn big.”

“Yes, baby.”

#poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #poe dameron fic

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detectivejay-chuckles-halstead · 6 years ago

Text

Jay Halstead x Reader Imagine

Description: You and Jay had always been best friends. How will your lives change through the years? Especially when he returns home a different man.

Words: 22,097

Warnings: Canonical Violence, Smut, PTSD, School Shootings, Whump

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

When Jay told you he enlisted in the Army, you weren’t sure if he was joking or just plain insane. In all the years you’d known Jay, since you were practically in diapers, he’d never mentioned an interest in the Army. It wasn’t until right after graduation that he brought it up for the first time. The two of you had been having weekly movie night at your place, your parents having gone out for the night.

“I need to tell you something,” he said softly when the movie ended. You’d nearly fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder. You didn’t turn to look at him, humming in response to get him to go on. “I enlisted in the Army on Wednesday.” That more than got your attention.

“Wha-Why?” you asked, looking up at him. He’d promised you he’d stick around Chicago, the two of you considering starting off at a community college.

“I can’t stay with him, with him constantly breathing down my neck telling me I’m a disappointment,” he answered, knowing he was talking about his dad. “He practically disowned Will for going off to college, and he’s been pushing me to apply for the Academy. And I just. I want to be my own person.”

“When do you leave?” You honestly didn’t want to know, but at the same time, you knew he was telling you this because he needed someone supportive in his life. You’d always been that person for him.

“End of the month, I head to basic for ten weeks, then more depending on my specialty.” You couldn’t believe it, but it was happening. He was going to be gone for at least four years. Four years without your best friend seemed like an eternity. “I just have to ask you for one favor.”

“Anything.” You squeezed his hand with a smile. The two of you had been through thick and thin together. He’d stuck his neck out for you so many times, and you’d always done the same. It wasn’t anything for you to ask favors of each other.

“It’s going to sound crazy, but before you freak or try to get me committed to a psych ward just hear me out.”

“I’m not sure if I should be worried or scared, Jay,” you commented before he shushed you by putting his hand over your mouth with a smile.

“Right now, my next of kin is my dad. And if anything happened to me, he’s the one that would get the payout. I-,” he took a breath. “I don’t want him to be the first to find out if something happens to me, Y/N. So, will you marry me, just for the legality. You’d be my next of kin, the one to handle my affairs. I trust you more than him, more than anybody.”

“You are one crazy man, Jay Halstead,” you said as you ran your hand through your Y/H/C hair. It took you a minute to sort through all the responses you could give, but you knew he wouldn’t ask this of you unless he was serious. It wasn’t a joke. You weren’t in kindergarten anymore with a ring pop and promises of forever. You two had been through a lot through the years. He just looked at you with hope in his eyes.

“Okay. Yes,” you agreed, a smile breaking out across his face. He pulled you into a hug, and you couldn’t help but laugh against his chest. “This has to be the craziest idea you’ve ever had, Halstead,” you added.

“Yeah? Well, at least you put up with my kind of crazy.” It was true, you always put up with his crazy. In all the years you’d been friends with him, never did you think you’d marry him.

——-

You hadn’t told anybody before going down to the courthouse with Jay, hoping you could find someone in the lobby who would be your witness. You hadn’t even told your mother, who you’d tell everything to. The reason you didn’t, though, was because you knew she’d say it was a crazy idea. She would have tried to talk you out of it.

You’d never thought you’d find yourself standing in front of a judge in a sundress, Jay in a nice button down and khakis, and a stranger standing next to you after a promise of twenty bucks. Smiling at your best friend, you listened as the judge spoke, your hands in his. This was completely insane, but you couldn’t be happier.

The two of you had agreed beforehand that this was just going to be a legality while he was in the Army. He’d repeatedly told you in the two weeks leading up to this moment that you could back out at any time, that you could still date whoever you wanted to date, that a divorce would happen when one of you found the right person. You’d agreed to all those terms for him, knowing you weren’t going to back out of this. He was stuck with you, for however long he needed you.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the judge said. You didn’t kiss, another agreement between the two of you. Instead, all you could do was smile. The two of you left the courthouse on a sunny day in June, marriage certificate in your hand and simple rings on your fingers.

“Thank you,” he said again. He’d been thanking you a lot recently, for a lot of things. This was just one of them. Another was for always being there for him. For always having his back. It seemed like he was just trying to get everything out there before he left for basic training.

“I wouldn’t want anybody else to be my first husband,” you joked with a smile, “but, you’re the one who gets to explain this to my parents.”

——-

“You two did what?” your mother practically yelled at you both as you all sat around the kitchen table. You’d asked your mom if it was okay if Jay stayed for dinner, knowing she’d never turn down that request. About halfway through was when Jay broke the news you’d gotten married.

“It’s not that big of a deal. Just until he’s done in the Army,” you tried explaining, but your father raised his hand to silence you.

“Jay Halstead. Please for the love of all that is holy, tell me this another one of your jokes,” your dad said firmly, no waver in the tone of his voice. You could tell he was mad.

“This isn’t a joke. I’m leaving for basic training next week, and I didn’t want Pat listed as my next of kin if something happens to me. Y/N and you both have been more of my family than he ever has, and I wanted to make sure something good could come of it if something does happen.” You hated when he talked like that, bringing up the possibility of being killed. At the same time, you knew it was the reason the two of you had gotten married to begin with.

“Guys, you’ve known Jay his entire life. This isn’t high-school sweethearts getting married just for it to end horribly. I married my best friend because he asked me to because he’s going off to join the Army. Right now, we aren’t expecting this marriage to last more than four years unless he re-enlists,” you remind them. Plus, it wasn’t going to be an expensive or messy divorce since you knew you wouldn’t need lawyers. It was a mutual agreement.

“The two of you are insane!” your mother said again, more exasperated than anything. “But I guess what’s done is done. And it’s not the craziest thing the two of you have done. That doesn’t mean your father and I agree with it though, young lady,” she reminds you. It was enough for you.

Telling Pat Halstead was a whole different story.

——-

You were half expecting Pat to yell at either you or Jay. Instead, he locked himself in his bedroom. Jay assured you it was okay, that his father would come around, and told you to go home, that he’d see you in the morning.

He didn’t see you in the morning. In fact, you hadn’t heard from Jay until nearly ten that next night. He came tapping on your bedroom window. This was how you always snuck him in when your parents were asleep, the first time when you guys were about eight. Now that you were adults, you knew he didn’t have to sneak in your window anymore, but old habits die hard.

You’d been in bed, about to fall asleep, so the lights were out. It took him a bit longer than usual to climb in, and you swore you heard him wince. It wasn’t normal, not by a long shot.

“Jay,” you whispered when you turned on the bedside lamp on your nightstand. It looked like he’d been through Hell and back, a black eye, split lip. He probably had more where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he answered, taking off his shoes before climbing into your bed. You followed suit, pulling the blankets over you both.

“Do you want to change out of your jeans?” He just shook his head, and you knew it had been a bad night. It wasn’t the first time he’d shown up at your house with bruises he’d refuse to talk about, but you knew. You could piece it together enough to understand. It was one of the reasons he’d joined the Army after all.

You didn’t say anything else as you repositioned, trying not to jostle him too much. It reminded you of when you were kids, just holding onto each other. There was no difference between boys and girls back then, before the teasing started that you two must like each other. Even into high school, people always thought you were dating. It made any kind of relationship hard. But you and Jay survived, and here you were again.

Usually, he’d be the one holding you. Mostly it was because of the size difference with him being taller. But there were some nights, like that night, that he was the one that needed to be held. You didn’t say anything as his arm draped across your waist and held you close. His forehead rested on your chest, your legs tangled with his. The feeling of his jeans against the skin of your legs was uncomfortable, but you refused to say anything, your hands stroking through his hair.

“It’s going to be okay,” was the only thing you managed to say as he fell asleep in your arms.

——-

The day he left for basic training was one of the hardest days of your life up until that point. He had a packed duffle bag, the clothes on his back, and a wedding band still on his finger. And, he had you next to his side. You’d driven him all the way to O’Hare, having borrowed your dad’s car for the drive. Your parents had been warming up to the idea of why you agreed to Jay’s insane plan, but it was going to take them a while to get there completely.

The drive to the airport had been silent except for the radio. Usually, you both would have been singing along, but this was a more somber day, not really feeling in the mood for the usual karaoke. You’d parked the car in the parking garage and walked with Jay to check in. Now, he was about to get in the TSA line.

“You’re going to write me the second you can,” you told him, not giving him a choice. “And you’re going to call me when you can. And you’re going to stay safe, okay?” You knew basic wasn’t going to kill him, but you worried, tears stinging the back of your eyes.

“I promise,” he assured you, dropping his duffle bag to hug you tight. Your hands held onto his shirt tight, not wanting to let go.

“I’m going to miss you, Jay.” You’d never gone a day without seeing him or talking to him, so this was going to be a big change.

“I’m going to miss you too, Y/N,” he agreed, kissing the top of your head before pulling back. “You stay safe here, okay. I’m not gonna be here to bail you out of trouble when it comes knocking.” That was enough for you to smile, watching him walk away into security.

——-

Jay had made it through basic training. You’d been there for his graduation, and then he was sent off to his next assignment, which had been Army Ranger School at Fort Benning in Georgia. He’d told you he’d been excelling.

You thought him leaving for basic was the hardest day of your life. That all changed the day he called you to tell you he was being deployed to Afghanistan. You cried on the phone, making him promise repeatedly that he’d come home.

After that, the days turned into weeks that you wouldn’t hear from him. Sometimes it was for months at a time, for nearly two years. You’d moved out on your own, getting a small apartment, and every day you were home, you were praying that nobody would knock on the door to tell you he’d died. When those letters did come in from him, you were relieved yet so worried. He told you of some of the things he saw, the things he did, how much he missed his best friend and how he couldn’t wait to come back.

It was hard to focus sometimes, but you’d gotten your degree, getting a job as a teacher in a local public school. You knew the end of the four years was coming up soon, and you were just hoping he’d make it home.

——-

He’d called you to tell you he was heading home, opting out of reenlisting at the end of the tour. You were waiting impatiently at baggage claim at O’Hare, about to jump out of your own skin at the slightest of things. Four years. It had been four years without him in Chicago.

Your eyes scanned the crowd, regularly checking the incoming flights, just waiting for him. And then you saw him. With as excited as you were, you weren’t expecting your heart to drop. He looked different. There were bags under his eyes, the sparkle in his eyes duller. It looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You didn’t let any of that stop you. As soon as you saw him, you ran over to him. He dropped his duffle, catching you in his arms as you slammed into him, nearly knocking both of you off your feet. Neither of you said anything as you held onto each other, trying to hold back your emotions. There would be plenty of time for that later, you knew.

“Let’s go home,” you finally said after what seemed like hours, pulling back from him. You’d agreed to let him stay with you until he figured out his next step. He just nodded, letting you lead him out to the car with his hand in yours.

The two of you didn’t say anything as you drove to your place. His hands were planted firmly on his own knees, staring out of the windshield. He looked nervous, but he didn’t say anything and you didn’t ask. It made your heart jump, though, to see the ring you’d put on his finger four years ago still there.

“Jay, we’re here,” you said, softly, wanting to pull him out of his thoughts as you parked the car. “What are you feeling for dinner? We can order in, or I can make something.”

“I’m not really hungry,” he answered. Even the tone of his voice was different.

“You’ve got to eat,” you reminded him. “That chinese place you really like still delivers. I’ll get your usual order.” He knew you wouldn’t take no for an answer, nodding in response. That was good enough for you as you took him upstairs to your place.

“It isn’t huge, but you can have the spare room.” You weren’t sure what to say with everything that was going on, remembering the box of letters. You knew it wasn’t the whole story, but you understood some of the things he saw while over there. “But my door is always open if you need me. Any time. Bathroom is right over there,” you continued, pointing to the closed door. “Your room is right there, and mine is across the hall.”

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, not waiting for a response before tossing his bag in his room, then stepping across the hall, his uniform already starting to come off.

You weren’t sure what to expect now that he was back. You’d both changed in the past four years, and you felt like you might have to get to know him all over again. It was a scary idea that he might not be the same Jay that you let walk away at O’Hare. You could hear the shower turn on, grabbing your phone to go ahead and make the food order.

When he came out again, you saw him walk across the hall with only a towel around his waist. He was more well defined since you last saw him, skin a bit bronzer, more freckles scattered across broad shoulders. You had to quickly pull yourself out of those thoughts.

You’d been in a couple relationships since he left, but they’d ended mutually. Your mind had always been elsewhere, worried about him. It wasn’t that you had feelings for him, because you couldn’t. It wasn’t allowed! He was your best friend, nothing more. But there were some nights that you would never admit happened that you dreamed it was. Now, he was back.

Finally, you heard his door open and he joined you on the couch. You’d already sat a beer on the coffee table for him, nursing your own. You didn’t even know if he liked beer. He groaned as he sat down, propping his feet up on the table, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” he told you, which caused you to smile. There was no way to help it, your hand resting on his forearm.

“I missed you too, Jay.”

The two of you talked for hours, late into the night and early in the morning until he was dozing off. You’d convinced him to eat when the food came, and it was as if the man hadn’t eaten in his entire life, which got you an apology.

“We should head to bed,” you finally said when you finally looked up at the clock on the wall. Somehow, the two of you had managed to talk until four in the morning. It felt like no time had passed at all.

“Yeah,” he agreed, getting up then offering you a hand to help you up. The two of you walked to where the doors met, and you couldn’t help but hug him tight again.

“Goodnight, Jay,” you finally said when you let go, Jay mumbling a ‘night’ in response before you went in your room, shutting the door behind you.

You knew it hadn’t been too long since you’d fallen asleep when you were woken by the sound of screaming coming from Jay’s room. It scared you, not sure what was going on when you jumped out of bed and rushed into his room. He was in bed, drenched in sweat, thrashing. It looked like he was in some kind of nightmare.

“Jay!” you said, trying to get him to wake up by shaking his shoulder. You definitely weren’t expecting him to grab you roughly, throwing you on the bed and pinning you down. “Jay!” you said again, much firmer.

It took him a minute to come to, fear in his eyes as he looked at you. It seemed to get worse when he realized the position he put you in, quickly backing off with apologies one after the other coming from his lips and tears in his eyes. You didn’t understand at that time what had happened, scared. Later you’d learn and understand it was PTSD.

“It’s okay,” you assured him, “I’m fine.” Though you knew you weren’t, that your wrists would most likely bruise from his grip.

He backed up until his back hit the wall, sliding down with his knees pulled to his chest. He didn’t make a sound, though, his arms wrapped around his legs and his forehead resting on his knees. It took you a minute to get up, not sure if you should approach him or not. You threw caution out the window, knowing it was Jay. Slowly, you got up and walked over to him, kneeling beside him. You didn’t say anything as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him. One hand stroked through his hair. It took him a few more minutes to begin to lean into you, but when he did, you knew it would be okay in the end.

——-

You’d managed to get him back to bed, promising him you’d stay with him throughout the night. A part of you prayed he didn’t have another nightmare, not sure what would happen if he did. Luckily, he didn’t. When you woke up, it was to an empty bed which was confusing. You didn’t hear any movement from the living room or bathroom, and when you checked, he wasn’t there.

You took the opportunity to get changed. Despite it being August in Chicago, you opted for a thin, long-sleeve shirt to hide the beginnings of the bruises on your wrists before starting to cook breakfast. You could only hope he’d show up soon, which he did.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” you told him when you heard the door shut. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw he was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, looking like he’d just gotten back from a run. You made sure to pull your sleeves down a little more as he passed by, a smile on your face. He didn’t say anything or acknowledge you as he shut himself in the bathroom again.

You were glad you’d taken a few days off work to spend time with him, but at the same time, it felt like he was starting to shut you out after the events from last night. You tried to refocus on your attention back on finishing up breakfast, setting the plates down on the table and pouring him a cup of coffee before getting yourself a cup of orange juice. You then sat down, waiting for Jay, hands resting on your lap.

It didn’t take long for him to come out in khakis and an Army t-shirt, sitting down across from you. He didn’t say anything as he began to eat, slowly. He didn’t even look up at you. You tried to understand the fact that he was wrestling with his own demons, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that it hurt.

“We need to talk,” you told him when he’d nearly finished eating. You’d managed to just push your food around, not really eating it.

“What’s there to talk about?” he countered, voice distant and cold. You’d never heard Jay talk like that, never. A chill ran down your spine.

“Last night. What happened?” You could still remember the bruising grip around your wrists, how his eyes looked through you, stuck somewhere else that wasn’t Chicago.

“Just a bad dream.” He stood up, grabbing the plates and taking them to the kitchen. You waited a minute to follow, leaning against the counter and watching him.

“No, Jay. It was more than just a bad dream. A bad dream doesn’t end with me getting pinned to the bed,” you reminded him, absentmindedly rubbing your wrist. He noticed though, and you could see a myriad of thoughts running through his head all at once. You saw his jaw clench and release a few times, the dishes long forgotten.

“I dream I’m back there sometimes, Y/N,” he told you. “That’s all it is.” You decided not to push it, letting it go for now. His eyes were still locked in your wrist though. A shaking hand reached out, pushing your sleeve up just enough to show the bottom of the bruising. Clear as day was the shape of fingers on your skin.

“It’s not your fault,” you assure him, but he wasn’t listening. You could tell by the way he pulled back and turned away from you. The thing you weren’t expecting was for him to walk out of the apartment without looking back.

——-

The bruises had faded, but the tension between you and Jay had not. It had been almost a month since he’d come back. Things hadn’t gotten better though, he hadn’t made progress. In fact, you were more worried about him than you had been. He’d come home drunk, would sleep all the time. It wasn’t until a friend of his showed up, knocking on the door in the middle of the night.

“Can I help you?” you asked the man, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m looking for Jay Halstead. I’m a friend from the Army. Greg. Greg Gerwitz. But everyone calls me Mouse,” he said quickly, as if you were going to cut him off at any moment.

“Look, Gr-” He gave you a look. “Mouse. Jay’s not in a good place right now, I don’t know.” You shook your head, not wanting Jay’s friend to see him in this kind of shape.

“That’s why I’m here. He called and left a message for me. I was over there with him. I know what’s going on,” he assured you, so you let him in before making your way to Jay’s room with Mouse trailing behind. You didn’t knock, just letting yourself in.

Jay was on his side, eyes open and staring at the wall. The blanket was draped across his torso and legs, one foot hanging out. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, beard beginning to become noticeable. You hadn’t realized he’d developed dark circles around his eyes.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” you told the pair when Mouse sat next to Jay, your friend looking up at his own. You wished it could be you that was able to pull him out of whatever abyss he’d fallen into, but you knew you shouldn’t let your pride get in the way. If Mouse could bring Jay back, you weren’t going to stand in his way.

——-

It had taken time, but Jay seemed to be his old self again. The nightmares seemed to happen less and less often. He was talking to you again, weekly movie night on Fridays just like when you were kids. He was getting back on track, and you couldn’t be more grateful to Mouse. It was a surprise to see him come around less often, but Jay assured you he was fine.

“So, I applied to the CPD Academy,” he told you as the two of you ate lunch. He’d shown up at the school you worked, bearing the gifts of pizza.

“Oh, really? That’ll be good for you.” You didn’t bring up the fact that his father had wanted him to apply to the Academy after graduation, that maybe he was following Pat’s plan for him. The difference was that you knew he was choosing this on his own and wasn’t being pushed towards it.

“You think?” he asked, the light in his eyes shining bright. You missed it, missed him. You couldn’t help but reach across the desk, resting your hand on top of his. He gave you a bright smile.

“You’re gonna be a great cop, Jay,” you assured him. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the marriage,” you added.

“Yeah? What about it?” he asked as he took another bite of pizza. He’d been home for over six months now, and he didn’t seem to plan on reenlisting in the Army.

“Well, you’re not planning on reenlisting. I didn’t know if you wanted to keep it up since you’re going into the CPD or if you wanted to go ahead and get divorced.” Ultimately you were going to let the choice be up to him. You weren’t in a relationship, weren’t looking at getting married any time soon, so it didn’t phase you one way or the other.

It was odd for your taxes and employment paperwork putting married. It may have been true, but sometimes you had to catch yourself. You’d stopped wearing your ring on your finger when he got back, not seeing the need to. Though, you wore it on a chain around your neck.

“It doesn’t matter to me. I mean, our taxes are better if we stay married. Plus, the same thing goes with CPD. I’d rather you be my next of kin instead of Pat.” That was a good enough answer for you, not bringing it up again. Instead, the two of you fell into casual conversation until the bell rang, signaling that your students would be coming back.

“I’ll see you at home,” he told you, helping you clean up. You gave him a hug and kissed his cheek as a few of your students trickled in.

“I get to choose the movie tonight, Jay!” you called after him as he left, arms crossed over your chest with a smile. You could hear him laugh from just outside your room, and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“Is that your boyfriend, Ms. Y/L/N?” one of your students asked. It was one of the great parts about teaching six year olds.

“He’s my best friend,” you answered, ignoring the churning in your stomach. Boyfriend. You were sure that ship sailed a long time ago, if even existed in the first place.

——-

The day he graduated from the academy, you couldn’t have been prouder. Where he started when he got home a year ago to this point, he’d made leaps and bounds, not just strides. He’d worked his ass off for six months in the academy, a lot of late nights that you’d fall asleep on the couch and him studying.

Seeing him in his uniform was another site. It seemed like yesterday, you saw him at O’Hare in his Army uniform looking tired and defeated. Now, he looked proud, a smile on his face when his eyes met yours. You remembered wondering if that light would ever come back to his eyes, and in that moment, you saw it in full force. His cheeks were fuller, the dark circles gone from around his eyes. He looked happy and healthy.

You’d worn your ring this day, to keep up appearances. When you met up with him, he brought you in for a tight hug before someone walked over, clearing their throat.

“Sergeant,” he said, standing up tall, formal.

“Officer Halstead,” the woman said before shaking your hand. “This must be the lucky lady. I’m Sergeant Platt.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Platt,” you said with a smile. “Hopefully Jay didn’t give you too much trouble in his time in the Academy.”

“Not going to lie. He’s one of the best I’ve seen roll through in a long time. He’s going placed. But I should warn you to keep an eye on him. A lot of the girls were eyeing him.” You gave Jay an ‘oh really’ look, not helping the giggle bubbling at your lips.

“I’m not too worried, Sergeant,” you assured the woman before she gave you a smile and walked away. You looked at Jay again. “Let’s go celebrate.”

——-

You knew Jay would be getting home late, but you were surprised that he actually came in the next morning looking like complete shit. There was no doubting that something had happened on his shift that shook him.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked him, taking his bag from him so he could take off his shoes.

“You remember Allie Corson?” he asked. It was hard to forget Allie Corson considering she was the first person Jay loved, and she’d broken his heart. You nodded, following Jay to the kitchen where he pulled out a beer. It looked like he was barely keeping it together.

“Ben.” He shut the door of the fridge, hands shaking, dropping the bottle, shattering on the floor. He was trying to keep the tears back. “Ben was murdered, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in the back of your throat. Allie was such a sweet person, and you’d hung out with her and Jay enough to know how nice of a boy Ben was. He was the one who wrapped his arms around you, face in the crook of your neck as he cried, holding the fabric of your shirt in tight fists.

You didn’t ask any questions, letting him get it all out before taking him to his room. It was a Saturday, so you had nowhere to be. When he let you go, you saw red rimmed eyes, Jay sniffling.

“Have you gotten any sleep?” you asked him, pulling his shirt up and over his head. He shook his head ‘no’ in response, and you just nodded. Your hands then worked at his belt, getting it undone before popping the button of his jeans and pushing them down to leave him in just his boxers. This was the first time you’d ever done anything like this with him, but you knew he was exhausted and upset and would fall asleep in his street clothes if you let him. It seemed instinctual as he pulled your t-shirt off, leaving you in your tank top, then pushing your jeans down.

“What-” You didn’t know what was going through his head, where his mind was even at as he tried to find the words that he wanted to say. “What did I do to have someone as amazing as you in my life?”

“You were just you, Jay,” you answered, pulling him to the bed. You laid down first, getting situated as he joined you. Your hair was fanned out across the pillow, your eyes meeting his as he laid down with you.

He moved closer, though, his arms didn’t pull you close and it looked like he wasn’t going to. Instead, he just looked at you.

“Do I have something on my face?” you asked him softly, not sure why he was looking at you like that. He shook his head, propping himself up on one elbow as the other hand came to stroke long your cheek down to your jaw. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, anticipating what he was going to do next.

You weren’t expecting a firm grip on your jaw before his lips were against yours. It took you by surprise, there was no doubt about that. He’d been your friend for your entire life, your best friend for most of it. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it was, and you were conflicted. Had you wanted this? Yes. You’d wanted Jay as much as you wanted to breathe. But the timing wasn’t right. Ben had just died, and you felt like this was his way of pushing that grief to the side and not dealing with it. His lips were intoxicating though, moving with him.

He pressed against you, one hand at the nape of his neck, the other holding onto his bicep. There was urgency and need, nipping at his bottom lip. He pulled away from lips, trailing down to your jaw and neck. Your nails dug into his skin.

“Jay,” you said, out of breath, not sure if this should be happening. He didn’t respond though, focused on what he was doing, which was making you want him more and more. “Jay,” you said a little firmer, getting his attention. He looked at you, lips red and a little swollen, pupils blown with desire.

“You okay?” he asked softly, thumb sliding across your bottom lip. You nodded dumbly as you caught your breath.

“We shouldn’t. We can’t,” you told him, seeing confusion take over his expressions. “Just. Now is not the right time, Jay. Ben...I don’t…” He pulled back, letting you sit up. You grabbed his hand, getting his attention back on you. “I don’t want you doing this because you’re upset, okay?”

He nodded, seeming to understand. You hoped he did at least. He laid back on the bed, and you decided to go ahead and rest your head on his chest. His arm was loose around you, but still traced unrecognizable patterns on your side.

You felt his hand stop, his fingers resting on your tank top, breathing even and regular. When you glanced up, you saw that he was asleep. Sighing, you put your head back down. Maybe you were in love with him. And that idea terrified you.

——-

Neither of you spoke about that night, but there was definitely tension between the two of you now. Though, neither of you mentioned it. He’d skirt behind you in the kitchen, hand barely resting on your back. Or you’d be walking down the street, hand brushing against his. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was some pride, you weren’t sure.

He was obsessed though, with trying to pin the guy who killed Ben. He was adamant that it was a neighbor, Lonnie Rodiger. The issue was that he had no proof to back it up, just a gut instinct. After Ben, his nightmares came back. From the sounds of it, it was a mix between Afghanistan and Ben, a luck of the draw each night. You’d just wished there was more you could do for him. He’d assure you that you being there was enough for him, all he could ask for.

——-

The day he brought a girl back to the apartment after a night out, you thought your heart was going to shatter, if it hadn’t already. You’d been grading papers at the kitchen table when he stumbled in, the sound of a girl laughing piercing the silence of the apartment. You looked over, you saw a mess of blonde hair and tan skin. The air got stuck in the back of your throat, seeing her all over him.

“Y/N,” he said with a smile, his hands already sliding up the back of her shirt. “This is…” He looked over at her, chewing on his bottom lip, seeming to be drunk enough to not remember her name.

“Melissa,” she answered for him, undoing his belt.

“Yeah! This is Melissa. Melissa, this is Y/N. She’s gonna stay the night,” he added, not giving you a chance to answer before picking her up and carrying her to his room. You’d grabbed your headphones, putting on some music to drown them out.

He’d suggested you went out with him that night, but you were behind on grading. Plus, the bars and clubs weren’t really your scene. You’d done that when you’d turned twenty-one and then for the next year while he was gone. But, you knew he’d missed out on it since he was in the Army. You couldn’t help but think it would have been you in his bedroom that night if you’d agreed. Your heart was definitely broken.

———

Jay had taken the Detective’s exam, not telling you until after the fact. He’d passed, obviously, on the first try, coming home excited with a smile on his face, and telling you he’d gotten a spot in the Gang Unit. You tried to be happy, but over the past year, the two of you had really drifted apart. Your traditions had dropped off one by one, until you seemed to be nothing more than roommates.

“I’m happy for you, Jay,” you told him with a smile, not looking up from the papers. It was another year, another group of students, and even more work it seemed like.

Later that night, he’d put a cup of tea in front of you, seeing as you hadn’t moved from your spot nearly all day. You noticed he took a seat across from you, a cup of coffee in his hands for himself. He just sat there for a while longer, quiet. That was until he cleared his throat, bringing you to look up at him.

“What happened to us?” he asked softly. You didn’t know how to answer that. There were just a million things that had happened, both big and small, that factored into your current situation. “We used to be so close, Y/N. Now, we barely talk.”

“Jay,” you said, almost exasperated, running a hand over your face before your elbows were planted on the table and your head rested in your hands.

“Come on. Where did we go wrong?” he added. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him.

You could still remember the day he came back home. He looked like he was ready to give up, a sunken face. Now, freckles were dotted across pink cheeks and the bridge of his nose. All his wounds had scared over. His muscles were more defined, his shirts fitting better. His style had also improved, wearing Hensleys and flannels with v-necks. He’d really grown into himself. And it felt like he’d left you behind.

“The day you came home after Ben Corson died,” you told him, looking down, not able to look at him. “We never talked about what happened, and I don’t know...I think that’s where it started.” You could hear him sigh before taking a drink of coffee.

“Then, you just...We didn’t talk about it, Jay,” you said again, looking at him again. “And then you paraded girl after girl through here. It hurt.”

“Like you didn’t date that guy, Richard or whoever, the science teacher?” he reminded you. That was different. You’d actually dated Richard for six months, it wasn’t that you paraded a laundry list of guys each night.

“That was a serious relationship, and I had dated him for three months before bringing him around. You parade girls through here that you meet at the bar each night,” you retorted, trying to keep a calm voice. “We’re both at fault for not talking about it, letting it get to this point.” He nodded, knowing you were right.

“Yeah. I want to fix us,” he said after a minute of mutual silence.

“I just...I want more than just a friendship Jay. That night. If you hadn’t been upset, if Ben hadn’t just died, I wouldn’t have stopped you. At the same time, I don’t know if it was just because you were upset that you even kissed me,” you answered. Jay sighed, making it seem like he didn’t want that. You were worried that you had just ruined your friendship.

“I was upset that night, Y/N. But it wasn’t because I was upset that I kissed you. I mean, part of it was. I don’t want to ruin what we have though. The girls, yeah, I know I’ve been bringing a lot through, but I thought you stopped me because you didn’t want it,” he told you.

“I want to try, Jay. Do you? If we both agree to try, and it doesn’t work, we can try to go back to what we had.”

“Okay,” he agreed. That was enough for you to flash him a smile. “I’m off tomorrow, so, I’m taking out out on a date.”

You guys knew nearly everything about each other, so this seemed more like a formality. But it meant that he was trying, that he was being honest about wanting to try. It made you happy that things might get back on track with things between the two of you, and maybe even better.

——-

The next afternoon, you’d gotten home from work, exhausted. Who knew six year olds could wear you out so much? You plopped down on the couch with a groan, kicking off your shoes, and propping your feet up.

“Long day?” Jay asked, kissing the top of your head as he made his way around the couch to sit next to you.

“Parents are more of a pain in my ass than the kids are,” you answered. You weren’t expecting him to lean forward and pull your feet onto his lap, massaging each foot. It felt nice, your eyes slipping shut with a soft moan. He knew exactly what he was doing it seemed, making all the tension in your feet disappear pretty fast. “Where did you learn this?”

“The internet,” Jay answered, which got a laugh from you.

“Well, the internet has taught you well, Young Padawan. So, what did you have in mind for this date?” You opened one eye, seeing him smile and shake his head.

“I made a reservation at the best place in town,” he answered, not specifying it anymore.

“And where’s that?” You were wondering if he’d give you an answer, and it seemed like he was.

“I might have gone grocery shopping to cook. And I just want you to relax, go take a bubble bath, and get dressed. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Everything will be ready in a couple hours.” He was the best, and you knew he knew that fact.

You didn’t want to move from your spot on the couch, but he insisted, sending you on your way to take that bath and unwind. When you opened the cabinet, you saw he bought you a new bottle of bubble bath, With Jay, he always did the small things for you, things that you might not have even noticed over the years, or that you’d just chalked up to him being a good friend. This made your heart swell, though, knowing it came from a place of true caring, if not love.

You took your time, smelling whatever he was cooking. It smelled delicious, and you couldn’t wait to eat it. When the bath started to get cold was when you got out, drying off before heading to your bedroom. Jay wasn’t paying attention, focusing solely on cooking. He looked hot, sleeves pushed up, foot tapping along to whatever song was playing on the radio.

With Jay, you didn’t feel like you had to worry about what you wore. With Richard, it felt like you had to impress him. Jay’d seen you in everything from your prom dress down to your underwear, though. You knew he didn’t care, and honestly, neither did you. So, you put on jeans and one of your college t-shirts. Your hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“Smells good,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing yourself against his back. You felt him tense up in the moment you did it, and then immediately relax again.

“Good, because it’s going to taste even better,” he assured you.

“With all these promises, it better be the best thing I’ve ever had,” you teased back, which got a laugh from him.

Eventually, you let him go, helping him finish cooking. It was pretty easy, mostly just washing the dishes as they came. It was domestic, the two of you having fallen into a routine two years ago when he moved in.

You sat at the table, Jay sitting across from you as the two of you ate. It was mostly small talk, catching each other up on your weeks, a little bit from the past year where you’d started to drift apart. It was nice, familiar. Occasionally, his foot would brush against yours, or he’d reach across the table to hold your hand. It was hard not to blush, so you did more often than not. He was sweet, but you knew that already. He was still Jay Halstead afterall.

When the two of you finished dinner, you’d moved to the couch. The hockey game was playing, but you were more focused on him than the game. He’d glance over at you occasionally with a smile, giving you quick kisses. It wasn’t until after the game was done that you knew you had his undivided attention. Not that you couldn’t have gotten it sooner if you’d wanted.

“I’m going to go to bed,” you told him, getting up.

“I had a good time,” he told you, not moving to get up.

“Who said the night was over?” He raised an eyebrow as you smirked, walking to the bedroom. You could hear him get up, following close behind. You weren’t sure how far this was going to go, but it didn’t matter as long as you were with Jay.

As soon as you got through the bedroom door, you turned around to face him, just a couple steps behind you. You could see the smile on his face as he closed the distance, a broad hand on your lower back pulling you close as the other rested on the back of your neck. He didn’t kiss you, just smiling at you, so you took the first step, crashing your lips against his. He was just as intoxicating as the first time, your lips moving together like a perfected dance.

He pressed you against the wall, one of your legs hooking around his leg. Your hands were all over him, wherever you could reach. Eventually, you opted to scratch your fingernails along his lower back. In response, he gave a soft moan, giving you more than enough opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips, which he welcomed gracefully.

Your hands pushed his shirt up, Jay pulling back just far enough to get the fabric off before he did the same to you. He leaned back in, lips against yours again as his hand spread across your ribs, thumb teasing your nipple. Shivers ran down your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

Finally, you pushed against him, moving him to the bed. His knees hit the bed first, falling back and pulling you down on top of him. Your lips found his again with no hesitation before kissing along his jaw, his stubble gently scratching your face. You didn’t care, had always liked him with a beard. Down further your lips went, sucking a hickey at the junction of his shoulder and neck. When you glanced up, you saw his head fall back on the bed, eyes closed. His hands grabbed your ass, giving a firm squeeze.

You’d never thought it was possible to want someone this badly, no way there was a way to want someone more. You’d also never thought you’d be in this position with Jay, yet here you were, lips traveling lower, nipping at his exposed skin occasionally before reaching his jeans. You pulled back to undo his belt, hands fumbling out of a mix of nerves and need. When you began pulling his jeans down, you grabbed his boxers as well, wanting nothing between you. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching you with parted lips.

You took no time in getting his pants off, discarding them somewhere in the room, not sure where they landed. Then, you were at the foot of the bed, kissing his thighs. He didn’t say anything as your eyes met again before taking him in your mouth. It was salty, but not overpowering. There was no hesitation as you began bobbing your head, hand helping please him.

That first moan you got from him had to be the best thing you’d ever heard in your life. It was needy and raw, making you eager to make sure he felt good. Quickly, his hand tangled in your hair. You couldn’t help but look up at him through your eyelashes, seeing the look of pure ecstasy on his face. He looked like a mess, but he was your mess.

“Y/N,” he moaned. You could feel his abdomen tightening under your hand. “I’m...I c…” He couldn’t get a full sentence out, but you knew he was close just by how he was acting. You got him right to the edge before pulling back, hand finishing him off so that way you could see him. His head fell back, lips parted just enough that sound could escape. His cheeks were rosy, chest heaving as he moaned, his load spilling over your hand.

“Holy shit,” he managed to say as he came down from that high. You grabbed one of your shirts off the floor, cleaning him up. Yet, you knew the night was far from over as he looked at you with unadulterated lust. You squealed as he grabbed you, reversing your positions and getting you on your back. You couldn’t help but smile.

His lips were on yours again, his hands roaming the exposed skin of your chest and abdomen. One hand teased your nipple as the other undid the button on your jeans, slipping a hand down the waistband to cup your center, the heel of his hand pressing into all the right spots. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

“Need you,” you sighed, nails digging into his biceps as he moved the heel of his hand in small circles on you.

It wasn’t enough, you needed more. You sighed as he moved his mouth further down your body, relishing in how he made you feel. Your hands slid through his hair, scratching against his scalp with closed eyes. After pulling your jeans off, he spread your legs slightly, enough to dip his head down between them. You pried your eyes open, watching him. It was pure sin, watching him between your legs. You could feel his tongue on you, unable to hold back your own moans. Your back arched off the bed, fingers digging into whatever you could reach, let it be his hair, shoulders, or the mattress itself. When you reached that peak, you couldn’t even tell him what your own name was, between the mess that was your brain, and the moans coming off your lips.

His lips were on yours again quickly, your leg hooking around his waist. “Condom,” he mumbled against your lips. Thankfully he had his head screwed on right, unlike yours.

“Top drawer,” you answered, protesting with a whine when he pulled away to grab one. You’d never noticed the way his muscles moved just under the surface, how toned he actually was. You couldn’t keep your hands off him, sliding along his arms, shoulders, side, wherever you could reach really. When he came back to you, he was smiling.

“Jay,” you said softly, cupping his cheek. Had you asked yourself six years ago when you were barely eighteen if you’d seen yourself in this spot with Jay, you would have told yourself you were crazy. Yet, here you were, happier than ever. You didn’t realize he’d slipped the condom on until he was pressing against you. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes locked as he slowly pushed in.

It was a change, and he was slow as you adjusted, hissing slightly at the intrusion. When he started rocking his hips though. You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips before you kissed him. He started off slow, small grunts and moans coming from him, but nothing loud or too out there.

That was until you were practically begging for more, “Harder. Faster,” escaping your lips like prayer. His moans and sighs were more frequent, louder, occasionally mixing with your own. You held onto him for dear life, raking your nails down the skin of his arms and back. Occasionally, he’d capture your lips with his, too much teeth, but always much needed.

If you were being honest, nobody had ever made you feel this good. Maybe it was partly because of who it was, never nervous around Jay. He just made you feel relaxed. The other part was most likely because it had been a while, and with tensions high, your nerves were ready to light up at the slightest of touch.

You could tell he was getting close by the falter of his hips, how his hand held onto your hip a little tighter. When he finally reached that point, it was a couple more thrusts of his hips and a deep moan as he buried himself in you. Your hands stroked through his hair, panting as you tried to catch your breath.

He moved off you, discarding the condom in the trash next to your nightstand before laying on his back. Your arm draped over his abdomen, head resting on his chest. The blankets were tangled around your legs, and you reached down to pull them up over you both. Neither of you said anything for a few minutes, your own heart pounding in your ears as you tried to catch your breath again. He was the first one that spoke.

“Wow,” was all he had to say, which you agreed with. Who would think that twenty three years of friendship would lead to this point. It definitely wasn’t you.

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking up at him with a smile. This was something you wouldn’t mind doing with him again. Plus, you knew you had all night.

——-

You and Jay had fallen into a nice, normal routine. The spare room was now a shared office, and you liked that it gave you more space to grade and to have a quiet place to work. He still made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. You understood what his job was, that there would be late nights and early mornings. What you weren’t expecting was an undercover operation.

“What does that mean exactly?” you asked him, looking over at him. He’d suggested you sit down when he told you this news, glad you did.

“I’m gonna be gone for a while. They’re giving me a whole new identity, backstory, everything. Just until we catch this guy,” he explained. You didn’t know if you wanted to hear more.

“When do you leave?” He took his eyes off you, hand running over his face with a sigh.

“In the morning.” You nodded, knowing neither of you had a choice in this. Instead, you just reached over, taking his hand in yours.

“And they’ll call me?” You had to ask. It was the last thing you wanted to happen, but the first thing on your mind. He just nodded, which made you sigh. This was why you guys were still married even though your romantic relationship had just barely begun.

“How long?” you followed up. You had so many questions, yet, you were unsure how much you wanted to actually know.

“I don’t know. A few days, maybe a few weeks? I’ve heard of people going undercover for months or years at a time,” he answered. Months to years… You didn’t think you’d be able to deal with him being gone for months or years. Considering you’d gone four years without seeing him, and those were some difficult times.

“I need you to promise me something,” you finally said after a couple minutes of silence between the two of you. You looked at him with intent, not going to take no for an answer.

“Anything.” You moved closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you close against his side.

“You’re going to come home. Safe. I swear, there’s a single scratch on you when you walk through that door,” you warned, your voice unwavering. He couldn’t help but smile at you.

“I promise.”

-----

You knew you wouldn’t hear from him while he was undercover, and if by chance you saw him, you weren’t to say anything or even acknowledge him in any way, shape, or form. The rules existed to protect him. You weren’t expecting to see him, though. He knew your routine, your usual spots, and would avoid them to keep you both safe.

Your phone rang in the middle of class a month and a half in, your students ‘oooh’-ing with interest. You felt your stomach drop, heart pounding as you stepped into the hall to answer the call.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said. “Who am I speaking to?”

“This is Sergeant Thomas with the CPD. I’m calling to inform you that your husband, Detective Jay Halstead, is currently being treated at Chicago Med for injuries he sustained while undercover,” he told you. If it hadn’t been for the fact you were so in shock, you would have dropped the phone.

You hung up, knocking on the classroom door next to yours. Julia answered with a smile, hushing her students in the background.

“I have a family emergency. Can you watch the kids while I go down to the office?” Of course she agreed, the two of you having gotten along great since you started working there.

As soon as you were able to, you were on your way to Med, mind racing as to everything that could have happened to him. You’d made him promise he’d come home, without a single scratch. Now, he was at Med.

You ran from your car to the ED waiting room, Jay’s name falling off your lips before you even stopped at the desk. An officer came out, ushering you back. You had a million questions, yet you didn’t know what to ask the woman. You just hoped Jay had all the answers. The officer left you at the door to the ED room. You had to take a deep breath before you brought yourself to walk in.

You were expecting a few bruises, for him to greet you with a smile and an assurance that he was okay. You weren’t expecting for his leg to be in a cast and propped up on a pillow. A bandage covered his neck right above his collarbone, bruising just above that. His arm was in a sling, secured tightly to his chest. An IV was running medicines and fluids that you didn’t know what they were for in through his good arm. Even then, that “good arm” looked horribly bruised. You didn’t want to imagine what it looked like under the gown, his breaths shallow and seeming to be strained. Plus, his face was a mix of black, purple, and blue, barely able to see a patch of pale skin.

You didn’t say anything, tears stinging your eyes as you sat down next to him in the chair provided. He seemed to be asleep, or unconscious. You weren’t sure what the difference was.

“Mrs. Halstead?” a man asked as he stepped into the room. “I’m your husband’s doctor, Dr Lanik.”

“Yes,” you answered, shaking his hand, but not standing up. “What-?” He handed you a box of tissues as tears dripped down your face.

“Your husband was brought in after being severely beaten. He’s suffered a broken tibia and fibula which are the bones of the lower leg. His shoulder was dislocated, a broken wrist on the same side. A couple of broken ribs. He has a severe concussion, luckily. With the amount of trauma to his head, we were expecting a brain bleed. He had a deep cut to the base of his throat that required fifteen stitches. He has some minor internal bleeding we expect to resolve on its own. We have him on pain meds. I want to keep him over night, at a minimum to keep an eye on any possible brain swelling as well as the bleeding,” Dr Lanik explained to you. As the list of his injuries grew longer, the more upset you got.

“He served overseas,” you told Lanik, holding Jay’s good hand, not taking your eyes off his bruised and battered face. “I didn’t see him for four years after we got married, and I was just waiting for that knock on the door. Each day, I prayed I wouldn’t, that God would bring him home safe. He came home different, but he came home. And then he joined the CPD, and I thought I wouldn’t have to worry as much. I mean, how dangerous is Chicago compared to Afghanistan?” You let out a dry laugh, not sure why you let yourself get comfortable with the idea. “I was nervous, obviously, but not as scared as I was when he called to tell me he was being shipped out. I made him promise me he’d come home safe.”

The doctor sat down in the chair across from you, setting his paperwork down. “How long have you two been married?” he asked. It seemed like he was trying to make you feel better.

“God, since we were eighteen. Six years this June. We weren’t even in love when we got married,” you admitted to the doctor. “He’d been my best friend my entire life, and he wanted to make sure someone he trusted would be the one to find out if he died. I mean, six years ago, tensions were high. We graduated in 2002, and the Army was accepting anybody and everybody to go fight in the war. When he came back, it was hard on both of us, but we got through it. Eventually, we started to fall in love, but it took us a long time.”

“Well, it sounds like he has an amazing person next to him, to agree to do that for him. He’s going to need you even more now as he gets better,” he reminded you.

“Was he out when he came in, or…”

“We had to sedate him. He was very agitated, really didn’t know what was going on,” he answered, looking confused as to why you asked.

“He has PTSD from when he was deployed. He doesn’t...he never told me what happened over there, not in detail. When he came home, it was bad for a long time. He fell into a hole that I didn’t know if we were going to ever be able to get him out of. I just. I don’t want this to be a setback for him,” you explained, Lanik nodding in understanding.

“If you want, I can have one of our psychiatrists come in when he wakes up, just to get a feel of things?” You agreed with a nod, Lanik standing up and putting his hand on your shoulder again. “He’s probably going to be out for a while. Do you want a cup of coffee or something?”

“Coffee sounds great,” you agreed before he left the room, a promise of a hot cup of coffee before the door shut. You squeezed Jay’s hand gently. “Dammit, Jay,” you mumbled, a hand running over your face. This was not how this was supposed to go, not by a long shot.

-----

You heard him groan, the eye that wasn’t completely swollen shut fluttering open as much as it possibly could considering the amount of damage done. Your head shot up from the bed, looking at him and squeezing his hand again.

“Jay,” you said softly, his head lolling to the side to look at you. He gave you a small, tired smile, looking barely awake. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Hey,” he managed to say, sounding like he had a mouth full of cotton. With how swollen his cheeks were, it looked like it too.

“You scared me,” you admitted, bringing his hand up, kissing his knuckles. “When I got the call, I didn’t know what to expect. All they told me was that you were at Med being treated for injuries sustained undercover. I thought I made you promise to come home without a scratch.”

“I’m sorry,” he told you, his fingers tightening on your hand. “I was doing good too, until today.”

“What happened?” you asked, needing to know. He just sighed, like he did when you asked about Afghanistan early on. You knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but you weren’t taking no for an answer. Not this time. “Talk to me, Jay. Don’t shut me out this time.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but you knew that’s how he took it.

“I didn’t shut you out, Y/N,” he told you.

“Jay, that’s not what I meant.” The damage was done, but he just sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“It was going good. They had just started to trust me. I went by Ryan, that was until a familiar face showed up. You remember Mouse, right?” he asked. Of course you remembered Mouse. He was the one that got Jay out of the pit. “Well, apparently, Mouse has hit rock bottom. And hard. He’s not doing good. But he recognized me, didn’t realize I was a cop, or undercover. Completely blew my cover. He’s the one that managed to call an ambulance and get my sorry ass here, but he bounced.”

“When did you last talk to him?” you asked, curious. You weren’t going to ask him about the attack itself, the aftermath more than able to fill in the blanks in your imagination. Not that you wanted to imagine Jay getting beaten to a pulp.

“Right after I graduated from the academy. I didn’t realize it was bad for him. He helped me, was there for me, and I didn’t do the same for him,” he answered, cheeks wet from tears that managed to slip out.

“Jay, look at me,” you said softly. He didn’t though, kept looking at the ceiling. “Look at me,” you said again, a little more forceful, but it was enough for him to listen. “What Mouse is doing, what he’s gotten himself into, it isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. What you can do. Are you listening?” He nodded his head. “What you can do is get yourself back in his life and help him. You can still be there for him, it’s not too late.”

“What if it is?” he asked you. “What if everything we went through over there was for nothing?” He wasn’t talking about his undercover assignment now, no. He was talking about Afghanistan. “We pulled each other through those trenches, dragging each other at points, for what?”

“Baby, it was for something. You fought for this country, bravely I might add, because it was the right thing to do. We were seventeen when 9/11 happened, we watched it happen, and then you went and did what so many others were terrified to do. Both you and Mouse. And I owe him everything for bringing you back home, and then helping you out of that Hell that was in your mind. It’s never too late to help him, okay? I’ll be there too,” you assured him. He nodded again, and you hoped he believed you.

-----

Unfortunately, you were unable to take Jay to the apartment when he was discharged. Your building was old, six steps up to the front door. Since Jay had both a broken wrist and a broken leg, he couldn’t use crutches, having to use a wheelchair for the time being. Which meant that you couldn’t get him up the stairs, especially by yourself. That was how the two of you found yourselves staying with your parents until one of the breaks was fully healed. The doctors were saying he’d be lucky if his wrist was fully healed in eight weeks.

“I don’t know how to thank you guys,” Jay told your parents as you helped them get the spare room together.

“Anything for our girl, and you too, of course, Jay,” your mother assured him with a smile, gently grabbing his face and kissing his cheek. “And we’re so glad to see you back. I wish you’d visited sooner.”

“So do I, Mrs. Y/L/N,” he replied, which got him a small smack on his good arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Y/M/N.” He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Especially since you and my daughter are still married after...How long has it been honey?” she asked your dad.

“Six years?” he said, getting a nod from you. “Even though, you said it probably wouldn’t last longer than four.”

“Well, I mean with Jay and I being an actual couple now, and with how crazy our schedules are, and with his job, we haven’t found a reason to get divorced,” you reminded them, helping Jay up and out of the wheelchair, pivoting to the couch. You got a pillow under his leg despite his protests that he was fine. “You got beaten to a pulp, so you have to deal with me doting on you. And when I’m at work, my mom will make sure to do the same.”

“I already promised Y/N/N that I would. Plus, you’re looking kind of skinny Jay. Is my daughter not feeding you enough,” Y/M/N told him, Jay pleading with you with his eyes. You put your hands up defensively, knowing it was out of your hands.

It was a long eight weeks, but as soon as he was clear to use crutches, he was booking it out the door to go home. The swelling of his face had gotten better, most of the bruising gone, and whatever was left had turned an ugly yellow. You knew he was just happy to be in his own bed again, with you by his side, with no parents around. It was limited what you could do because of his legs and the stitches still in his neck, but you made it work. That first night home was the first time he told you he loved you, and there was no doubt in your mind that he meant it.

-----

Over the years, you’d made sure to tell him you loved him every morning before one of you left for work, and to tell him every night before bed, even if it was a text or a phone call because he was pulling a late night. A lot had changed over the next five years, yet, a lot was the same. You were still happily teaching six year olds. Jay was still happily putting his neck out there to keep the people of Chicago safe. You still worried. He still had bad nights.

You’d moved though, having decided a new apartment with a new start would be good for the both of you. Sure, the old apartment had it’s good memories, but it also had some of the really bad ones. Plus, it was closer to your parents in Canaryville. Sure, the commute was a little rougher, but it was worth it. Sometimes your parents would ask when the two of you planned on having children, not worried about living in sin -- still being devout Catholics -- since you two were still technically married. You’d always just brush them off with a laugh, knowing you weren’t ready for that. You never asked Jay if he was though.

It had become normal, about once a year, for Jay to go undercover. The first time after the incident, it had been tough on you. It had only lasted a couple of weeks, but you were sure you were going to get another phone call, but that he’d been dead. When he came home, without a scratch on him, you were relieved, letting him hold you all night.

So, when he went undercover this time, you were less worried. Yes, you still worried, and that would never stop. But he was smart, had picked up many tips and tricks over five years. He usually kept you in the dark when it came to what the case was, but this time was different. You weren’t sure why, but he told you all about it. Maybe it was just another milestone in your relationship, you weren’t sure. It didn’t matter though, as long as he was safe.

It had been five years since you’d gotten that phone call that he’d been taken to Med. So, when your phone rang at three o’clock in the morning, you were worried. A little less so when you saw that it was Jay calling you.

“Hey, baby,” you said groggily, just wanting to go back to bed. You could hear chatter in the background. “You on your way home?”

“Not quite,” he answered, which got your attention. “They’re sending me to Med to get checked out.”

“Why?” you asked, enough of a shock to your system to wake you up, instinctively starting to get dressed.

“I got shot.” Your blood ran cold.

“You couldn’t think to lead with that, Jay!” you told him, worried and frustrated. He’d gotten shot, and acted like he was just reading you the weather. “I’m on my way to Med, and don’t you dare try to talk me out of it Jay Halstead.”

“Okay,” he agreed before you hung up. The drive down to Med, you were mumbling to yourself the entire time. You weren’t sure what you were going to say to him, or if you were just going to slap some sense into him since it seemed like he had none.

“I’m here for Detective Jay Halstead,” you told the ED desk, getting led back to his room, getting an odd sense of deja vu. This time you were less panicked at least.

Your jaw clenched as you walked in the room, arms crossed over your chest. His shirt was off, a bandage patched on the front and back of his shoulder and his arm in a sling. You could still make out the blood stains on his skin from where he bled.

“You got shot.” It wasn’t a question, a firm statement. He sighed, head falling back on the bed before lifting it up to look at you again. The more you looked at him, the more you noticed, like some bruising on his stomach and a busted lip. Nowhere near as bad as the first time, except for the fact that he’d gotten shot.

“I wasn’t trying to get shot,” he reminded you as you sat down. “I was just protecting a civilian.”

“I know how dangerous your job can be, knew it was always a possibility. But you’ve been a cop for what? Seven years? Not to mention, serving in Afghanistan. And this was the first time you got shot,” you reminded him as he reached out his good hand to caress your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“I’d say that’s a pretty good track record,” he joked, getting you to smile. “You know how I keep talking about the Intelligence Unit I want to get into?” You nodded, brows furrowing, not sure where this was leading. “Well, one of the owners of the bar, her brother, Antonio Dawson, just switched to the unit. They’re looking for another Detective, and he’s putting in a good word for me.”

“It’s because you got shot, isn’t it?” you asked with a smile, getting a nod and a laugh back. “Well, despite how mad I am at you, I’m happy for you, baby. You’re gonna do great. After you’re done with your medical leave, because you’re taking time off. For my own sanity.” He knew there wasn’t any arguing with you.

-----

You brought him home a few hours later after the scans came back clear that it was a through-and-through. You were relieved, but still so upset about the situation. Neither of you said anything on the drive home, the radio wasn’t even turned on for once. There’d only been one other time in your life that you could remember a car ride being so quiet, and that was the day you drove him to O’Hare all those years ago.

You followed him inside, tossing your jacket on the couch. With a sigh, he turned around to look at you. Eyes scanned his face, seeing how different he looked. You could still remember being kids, chasing after each other in the school yard. Now, he was a man. Your hand came up, resting on his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“I’m sorry,” he told you softly, eyes not moving off yours. You could get lost in the ocean that was his eyes.

“No. No, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you assured him. “I overreacted a little.” You knew you had every right to be upset, but you’d directed your anger at him, as if he was the one that pulled the trigger on himself.

“Can we just go to bed?” he asked softly. His day had probably taken a lot out of him, was probably exhausted. You nodded, taking his hand and leading him back to the bedroom. What you weren’t expecting was his lips on yours, soft and slow. He was in no rush. It caught you by surprise before you relaxed into it.

You were the first one to pull away, helping him out of the scrub shirt the hospital had given him, trying to be as gentle as possible. He still hissed when you tried to maneuver the bad arm, whispering apologies. Once his shirt was off, your hands were gentle, ghosting around the bandaging. You could feel how hot the skin still was, didn’t even want to imagine what it looked like underneath the bandage. He stood there, looking at you as you touched him, not saying anything.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” you told him softly before pulling your own shirt off. His eyes broke away from yours, trailing down your now exposed skin. It didn’t take long before your lips were against his again, moving slowly, softly. There was no rush. In fact, you wanted to take your time because you could have lost him that night. You had a basic understanding of anatomy. If the bullet had hit just a couple inches further to the right, you might be planning a funeral.

You made sure to avoid grabbing onto his bad shoulder, not wanting to hurt him anymore than he already was. Your right hand, instead, rested on the back of his neck, your left on his good shoulder. His free arm looped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. As much as you wanted this, wanted him...you pushed it out of your mind. He wouldn’t talk about it, and you knew it.

The next time you pulled away was to get his pants off, making quick work of his jeans. Unfortunately, do to being down one hand, he was limited on his movement. So, as soon as his pants were off, you slid your own down. You didn’t notice he’d pushed his boxers down with his good hand, a small smile on your face as he stood there in all his glory.

“On the bed, Halstead,” you told him, Jay quickly following directions. As he got himself situated and comfortable, his back against the headboard, you grabbed a condom out of the top drawer. You grabbed an extra pillow. “Lean forward,” you told him, sliding it behind his back. It was the small things sometimes, plus, you knew the headboard would be uncomfortable against his shoulder.

There wasn’t any foreplay aside from heated kisses before you ripped open the condom and slid it down his length, getting a soft moan from him. You couldn’t keep your eyes off him, though. Especially as you positioned yourself above him before sliding down slowly. You took your time with him. The sounds you got from him sending heat low, adding to your arousal. You gave yourself leverage using the headboard rather than his shoulders, lips rarely coming off his.

When your lips did come off his, you whispered assurances and praise and love. And when you both fell over the edge, it wasn’t like the first time. The first time all those years ago, it was unadulterated need and desire. This was love and adoration and fear seeped through that you almost lost him. You could have easily lost him.

“I love you,” you told him softly, fingers combing through his hair, forehead pressed against his. “I love you so much.” You just sat on his lap, neither of you moving away from each other. His hand traced along your side, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“I love you too,” he told you. It took awhile for you to move off him, but when you did, it was to only lay down next to him. The two of you held each other, your head on his chest as fingers played with your hair.

“Jay,” you said softly, not looking at him. He hummed in response. “I-” You didn’t know how to ask. “Why don’t you ever talk about what happened over there?”

“It’s been eight years since I got back?” he asked, as if his math would be wrong, though it wasn’t. “Some days, it feels like a lifetime ago. Other days…” You knew what the other days were. Anniversaries of some sort, though he’d never given you further explanation for any of them. Some of them, he locked himself away both physically and mentally. Others...It was hard to explain. All of them affected him one way or another though. “Telling you would make it more real, and I’m scared of how you’ll see me if I told you what I did over there.”

You knew that was absurd, but to him, that was his reality. It took a minute to figure out how to tell him that.

“I’d never push you to tell me, and maybe you never will. I’m okay with that. But if you ever do, no matter how big or small, I’m still going to love you. You’re still gonna be Jay, okay?” you said, turning your head to look up at him. He nodded, a small smile as he kissed you again.

-----

It had been a long time since Jay had a nightmare bad enough to wake you up, not since Ben Corson. Even then, he still had nightmares. You were able to tell when he held you a little tighter at night, or you’d wake up with him gone long before reasonable hours. That was until that night. You heard him whimpering, skin slick with sweat that wasn’t from previous activities. Usually, he didn’t move in his sleep, but you could feel his legs weakly moving against yours. It was enough to wake you up.

“Jay,” you said softly. When you pulled back, you saw his brow furrowed, a look of pain on his face. “Jay, baby.”

You had propped yourself up on your elbow, cautious when you put your hand on his good shoulder, gently shaking him. His eyes shot open, pushing himself away from you quickly, fear in his eyes.

“It’s just me,” you assured him, staying where you were at. You didn’t move towards him, but you also didn’t move away. You had no reason to be scared of him. “It’s just me.”

“Y/N,” he mumbled, his face pale. He moved back towards you, and you accepted him with open arms. There had been plenty of times before, knowing how to handle his nightmares. Usually, he’d just brush it off and tell you he was fine. But there were times, like this one, where he didn’t say anything for a while, just listening to your heartbeat and hearing you breathe for a while.

“I did get shot once before,” he finally said, not sure how long it had been. “In Afghanistan.” You never noticed a scar, confused. “We were taking heavy fire. Mouse was there. Bullet hit me in the side. I thought I was done for, but he saved me. It healed pretty well considering, but it still happened. I still know it happened. I tried to...to not put myself back there today. I wouldn’t have called you, would have just come home and told you about it. But I needed you. You are my rock.” It took him a while to get through the story, giving you more detail of how he begged to not be shipped home, that he’d be fine. Your comment at the hospital weighing on your mind, about how this was the first time he’d got shot in all these years. He’d smiled, laughed, agreed with you. And this was just under the surface.

“Where?” you asked, wanting to know how you overlooked something like that. He sighed, sitting up. It was on his right side, your fingers tracing down from his shoulder blade to the spot you’d managed to overlook for the eight years he’d been home. It was barely raised, white camouflaging on already pale skin. One mark. One simple mark.

You wondered if the wound on his shoulder would look the same way, barely noticeable. Or would it be more raised, scaring pink rather than white. You both laid back down, duvet over the top of you. And you wondered if it would ever be completely alright.

-----

The three weeks he'd taken off were spent relaxing for the most part. A lot of date nights, and lunches in your classroom. It was nice, normal. Familiar. When he was cleared to work again, he was so excited, and you couldn't help but be excited for him.

You'd decided to surprise him at work a month after his transfer. It was enough time for him to settle in. You weren't expecting to see Sergeant Platt at the desk at the district.

"Y/N," she said with a rare smile. "What brings you down here?"

"Here to see Jay, Sergeant," you answered with a bag of food in your hand.

"Trudy, please," she corrected. An officer close by looked confused, so you assumed many people didn't get to call her by her first name. "So, you're still putting up with Officer Chuckles, huh?"

"It's Detective Chuckles now." She smiled as she rolled her eyes.

"I'll buzz you up. Up the stairs, to the right past the gate. I'm glad he's still got you. He's a good kid." You weren't going to disagree with that, following the simple directions.

You were expecting more bustle, not six people seeming to be doing nothing at their desks. Nobody noticed you at first, letting yourself lean against the wall leading into the bullpen. That was, until somebody piped up that they smelled food.

"That would be me," you said, smiling as Jay looked up.

"Y/N! How long have you been standing there?" he asked, getting up with a bright smile and walking over.

"For a cop, you're so unobservant sometimes, babe." You couldn't help but joke with him. "Parent-teacher conferences finished up early today, so I thought I'd surprise you. I brought enough for everyone." Not gonna lie, you were wanting to make a good impression on the team.

"Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. And these are the guys...and Erin." They all chimed in greetings as you sat the food bags down, making sure to set aside yours and Jay's before it became a free-for-all.

"Girlfriend, huh?" A younger guy asked. "I'm Adam." You shook his hand.

"Yup. We've been together what? Six years?" you asked Jay. It was hard to keep track sometimes.

"Seven," he corrected, getting a nod from you before he kissed you. "Thanks for lunch."

"Any time," you assured him. You grabbed your food and he brought an extra chair up to his desk. "You didn't tell me Trudy was the desk Sergeant."

"Trudy?" he asked, though he knew who you were talking about. "I didn't think to mention it. I didn't even think she'd recognize you since you haven't seen her since my academy graduation."

"Well she did. Is she the only one who knows about…" He cut you off with a nod.

"I mean, my paperwork says it, but nobody ever looks at that unless they have to." You knew that was true, so you weren't worried.

You tuned out the rest of the team, focusing on Jay. The two of you talked about an upcoming weekend trip to his cabin in Wisconsin. You'd always been invited as a kid, but your parents were never comfortable with it.

"Hey, Jay," Erin said as she came to stand beside him, hand on his shoulder. You couldn't help but feel jealous, especially considering he didn't pull away from it. Instead looking up at her. "We got a tip we need to go check out."

He nodded, looking at you with some sadness and a lot of apology. "Go," you said with a forced smile. "I'll see you later." He gave you a kiss, grabbing the rest of his food to go.

"Y/N," you heard someone say as soon as Jay left, voice gruff. You turned to see a man standing in the doorway of an office. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" Adam gave you a funny look, but you weren't sure what it was for.

"Of course." You stood up, walking into his office. He shut the door behind you before motioning for you to take a seat.

"I'm Sergeant Voight. Look, it's none of my business, but I can't have Jay distracted okay?" he told you, which confused you.

"Jay had mentioned others significant others bringing lunch, I didn't mean to distract anybody," you answered, thinking that maybe you'd overstepped a boundary.

"It's usually someone's husband or wife, not their girlfriend. Not to mention, I don't need you showing up here, and then Jay's wife coming around." Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Again, what he does on his off time isn't my business. But what happens here is."

"Look, Sergeant. You've got this wrong." He didn't let you explain as he walked to the door to open it, so you just blurted it out. "I am his wife, Sergeant." That got him to stop, turning to look at you again.

You sighed, not sure if Jay would be okay with you having this conversation. But here you were.

"Care to explain?" He asked.

"Jay and I have been best friends our entire life. We got married at eighteen right before he left for the Army, and then we just never got a divorce. It was for legality, seeing as he doesn't get along with his family very well and he trusted me," you explained. "So, you don't have to worry about a jealous wife coming around and running into a girlfriend. Since our marriage was out of convenience, we don't see ourselves as married off of paper. And I know Jay would appreciate if this didn't get around." Voight nodded, trying to comprehend what you just told him.

"Does anybody outside of your families know?" he asked.

"Trudy Platt met me at Jay's Academy graduation. She knows we're married, but she's never known that it was purely for being on paper. She's just thought we've always been together. But that's it. You and her," you answered.

"Okay." He nodded again. "I apologize if I offended you in any way."

"No need, Sergeant. I need to head out anyway," you told him, standing up. He shook your hand before walking out with you.

-----

"I had an interesting conversation with Voight after you left today,” you told Jay as the two of you walked home from a local pub you’d had dinner at, walking hand in hand. He looked over at you with obvious confusion.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“He told me that he didn’t need you to be distracted. Or risk a jealous wife showing up and seeing his girlfriend there,” you answered with a laugh, which caused him to look like he was about to go into a full blown panic. “Jay, I explained it to him. He knows minimal details, but enough. He’s not going to say anything,” you assured him, his face relaxing. “You shouldn’t worry too much. Might start getting wrinkles.” He gently bumped into you with a smile.

“Have you thought about what it would be like if we were actually married?” he asked softly as you turned the corner, seeing the apartment at the end of the block.

“We’re actually married, Jay,” you reminded him. “Or do I need to pull out the marriage certificate to remind you?”

“I meant...Have you ever thought about getting married again? With an actual ceremony. Because you love me?” he elaborated.

You sighed. Of course you’d thought about it, all the time. You’d been together for seven years. Honestly, the only thing the two of you didn’t really do was introduce each other as a spouse, and you didn’t wear your wedding rings unless you had to for appearances. That rarely happened though.

“I don’t need a ceremony, Jay,” you answered. “But have I thought about what it would be like for it to not be for appearances or paper? Of course. Being with you is all I could ask for though, and you’ve been giving me that for the last seven years. Though, my parents would probably love the idea. I don’t need it. Unless you want to.” He just shrugged, and you knew the conversation was being put on the backburner.

“Before I forget to mention it, Will is coming back to town to visit in a couple months. I told him he could crash with us,” Jay told you. You weren’t sure how you felt about that. You hadn’t heard from Will since graduation. He hadn’t reached out after Jajy joined the Army, or when he was deployed, or when he got back.

“Okay,” you agreed, against your better judgement. You weren’t sure if this was a good idea, didn’t want Will to drag Jay back into Pat’s life. But, Jay would make his own decisions, and it was your job to be his support system. Whether they be good decisions or not.

-----

The first thing that tipped you off that something was off was the fact Jay’s car was parked outside when you got home. He had told you that he was expecting it to be a normal day, so you weren’t expecting him home until dinner. The second thing that tipped you off was the smell of liquor wafting through the apartment. The third was Jay sitting on the couch, photos spread across the coffee table. A quick glance showed you they were pictures of Lonnie Rodiger.

“What’s going on?” you asked him, getting a grumbled response. “Use your words.” He glared at you with cold eyes, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. You didn’t sit next to him, opted to stay standing. “Talk to me, Jay.”

“Lonnie Rodiger is dead,” he told you. It was a conflict of emotions, considering you believed Jay when he said Lonnie killed Ben Corson. Sure, the man was a monster and deserved punishment, but you felt bad that you were glad he was dead.

“And that’s not a good thing?” You didn’t understand what had Jay on edge, why he wasn’t happy that Ben’s murderer couldn’t hurt anyone else.

“They think I killed him, Y/N.” Your blood ran cold, not sure how to react. The fact he wasn’t sitting in a jail cell seemed like a good sign. It meant that they didn’t have enough evidence to charge him.

You knew Ben’s birthday had just passed. He would have been fifteen. Something in Jay had snapped, and he’d become obsessed with figuring out a way to put Lonnie behind bars. You hadn’t said anything about it, figured he’d work it out of his system.

“Did you?” you asked. You couldn’t help it, plus you weren’t going to judge if he did.

“You too?” he asked defensively.

“I have to ask, Jay. Especially considering you have a restraining order from the Rodiger family. I’ve stood by your side this entire time, not doubting you for one second that Lonnie killed Ben. But it’s suspicious. Yet, I’d believe you if you said you didn’t kill him. Because I trust you,” you reminded him. He leaned back, with a sigh, signalling you to sit next to him.

“I didn’t kill him,” he told you as he looked over.

“Okay. Then find out who did. Badge or no badge, you’re the one who can figure this out.” He kissed your temple before going back to the pictures and the police reports. You sat up with him all night, going into work the next day, hoping you didn’t get a collect call from Cook County Jail that they’d found a way to pin it on him.

When you came home, no pictures or police reports were scattered on any surfaces. Jay was fast asleep on the couch, looking like he hadn’t slept in a year. You figured it was a good sign, covering him with the quilt on the back of the couch and kissing his head. He didn’t stir, but looked peaceful.

-------

“Will!” you announced excitedly, hugging him tightly as soon as he stepped foot in the door. As much as you didn’t like the idea of him staying with you guys, you couldn’t help but be excited. You hadn’t seen him in years.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Jay asked with a smirk, earning him a light smack on the chest.

“So, what brings you back to Chicago, Will?” you asked him, needing to know, your curiosity killing you. “Thought you were some fancy plastic surgeon in New York.” The three of you sat around the table. Since Will’s flight had gotten in late, you’d made dinner so it would be waiting when they got home.

“A job offer, actually. Chicago Med was looking for ED docs, and I actually missed my baby brother.” You could understand that. “So, no worries. I’ll be looking for my own place soon.”

“Did you tell him, Jay?” you asked, getting a glare in response. “He’s gonna find out soon enough.”

“Tell me what?” Will looked between the two of you. You’d made Jay promise he’d tell his brother about the marriage, and about their relationship, but it seemed like he hadn’t yet.

“Y/N and I have been dating for seven years,” he told Will, who just laughed. You looked at him, confused by his reaction.

“You’re joking, right?” Will asked, looking between the two of you. His smile dropped though when neither of you were laughing. “You’re not joking. Why didn’t you tell me sooner, like, I don’t know… Seven years ago!”

“Well, Will. There’s more,” you added before he started going off the deep end prematurely. He looked between the two of you again, confusion and surprise obvious.

“We’ve been married for thirteen years,” Jay added. Will looked like he was doing some mental math in his head.

“You two are definitely fucking with me,” he said as he came to the conclusion. It would make sense. He hadn’t seen his brother since his high school graduation, so it would make sense Jay would try to prank him. You were prepared though, sliding a piece of paper across the table to Will before he said anything else. As he read, his brow furrowed, hand raking through his hair.

“You got married thirteen years ago,” he said, flabbergasted. “And you didn’t tell me. Why did you even-?” It was obvious that Will had a lot of questions.

“Jay didn’t want Pat listed as his next of kin when he joined the Army, and with you in New York away at college, it seemed like the best thing to do,” you told him, knowing Jay didn’t know what to say by the look on his face. Of course he didn’t want to explain it to his big brother, and that was probably why he waited until dinner to have you help break the news. “Then, it was the same with the CPD. And I’m happy I agreed, because Jay is the best thing in my life. He always has been, for our entire lives.”

“I don’t...I don’t know what to say,” Will said, handing you the marriage certificate back before putting his napkin on the table. “Dinner was good. I’m gonna.” He stood up. “I’m gonna stay at a hotel.”

“Will, come on,” Jay told him, standing up a split second after Will. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said, grabbing his bag.

You wondered if he’d end up at Pat’s, since he didn’t live too far away. Or maybe, he was actually going to get a hotel. You weren’t sure, but whatever he did, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the broken heart look on Jay’s face. He didn’t say anything as the door shut behind Will, just gathering the plates in silence. His hands shook, jaw clenched.

“He’ll come around,” you assured him, but he shook his head.

“I’m not so sure.” His voice shook, putting the plates in the sink. He didn’t scrape them or wash them, holding onto the edge of the sink, looking defeated. Your arms wrapped around his middle, head resting on his back. You didn’t say anything, knowing there was nothing you could say that would make him feel better about any of it.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing you could manage to say. You felt bad for pushing him to tell Will, but you didn’t want to keep it from his brother. Plus, questions would get raised when he saw you and Jay sharing a room. Plus, you didn’t want to try and pretend you weren’t together for however long Will would be staying with you.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, holding one of your hands. “I’ll call him in the morning. Can we just go to bed?” You nodded, walking to the bedroom with him. You just really wished the brothers would work this out.

------

“I invited Mouse to stay with us for a while,” Jay told you, Mouse standing next to him. It wasn’t like you’d say no, but a bit more of a heads up would be good. “I’m taking some time off to stay with him while he cleans up.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “It’s nice to see you again, Mouse.” It had been nine years since you’d seen him, and it had taken its toll. His cheekbones were sunken in, dark circles around his eyes. When you’d first met him, he’d been hyper, but Jay had told you that was normal for Mouse. This type of hyper, you knew, was because of drugs. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate, okay?” Mouse just nodded.

You helped Jay get the spare room set up, not saying anything. When it was ready for him, you reached out, squeezing Jay’s hand with a smile.

“He’s gonna get better, especially with you here to help him,” you told him.

The first week was the hardest, Jay practically barricading Mouse in the house to keep him from leaving. You were surprised he didn’t just cuff him, but then you knew Mouse could make the argument of unlawful detainment.There was a lot of crying, a lot of late nights. You didn’t hear most of their conversations, knowing they talked about the war a lot. It was the reason they were in this mess to begin with, both struggling in one way, shape, or form with PTSD. You knew all you could do was be there for them, both of them.

The first time Mouse wanted to talk to you and not to Jay was hard on them both. He wanted to talk about some of the things he’d done since they’d been back, things he was ashamed of and didn’t want Jay to know. “Not yet at least”, was what he said. And you listened, Telling him that it didn’t make him a bad person, agreeing that the VA had failed him. That was when he told you a story you didn’t think you could have prepared yourself to hear.

“We were in the convoy, going from one to place to another, patrolling mostly. Jay and I were in the second Humvee. We were talking about going home since our tour was about to end. We barely recognized the explosion in front of us,” Mouse told you as he leaned against the dresser, you sitting across from him with your back against the bed. It was a safe spot for him, being low. You never questioned it. “The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the sand, the Humvee flipped. My first thought was to find Jay. He was bruised, but said he was okay, so I believed him. I shattered my arm in three different spots. We were taking heavy fire, couldn’t tell where it was coming from. I thought we were going to die that day, Y/N.”

Jay had never told you this story, didn’t know if it was something he ever wanted you to know. But because Mouse wanted to talk about it, you listened.

“I was sent to Germany, and then home, an honorable medical discharge they told me. It didn’t feel honorable though, felt like I had failed Jay. For the next year, I didn’t know if he’d survived, until he reached out to me when he got back. Seeing him like that. I failed him in so many ways.” Mouse seemed to cry in front of you more often than Jay did, tears on his cheeks again.

“You didn’t fail him at all, Greg,” you said, using his real name to get his attention. “You kept him safe. Hell, you saved his life both over there, and back here. That’s honorable to me.”

“Thank you, Y/N. For everything.” That was his tell that he wanted to be alone, so you stood up with a smile, shutting the door behind you.

You found Jay in bed, reading a book. It was a nice sight, sighing as you laid down after the long day you’d had, your head on his shoulder as you read over his shoulder.

“Mouse told me about the Humvee accident that got him discharged,” you said, getting Jay’s attention pretty fast. The book found its way to the bedside table with less than smooth movements.

“I’m going to assume you want to talk to me about it?” Jay asked, looking over at you.

“You know I’m never going to push you about it, but I want to understand what you went through, Jay. It’s been almost a decade since you got back, and I know one thing about the entire time you were over there,” you told him.

“I lost two very close friends in the Humvee that hit the IED,” he told you. “And Mouse got discharged. I spent the last almost year over there with three of my friends gone. That first year, we went through a lot. And I mean, a lot. And that last year, I didn’t know if I was going to make it without them. That accident is one of the reasons I hate driving sometimes.” His voice was shaking, obvious that he was upset now.

“Jay, I didn’t mean…” You wanted to explain yourself, wanted to apologize, but he cut you off.

“I know. But there’s a reason I don’t talk about it, okay?” You nodded, laying on your own side of the bed. It took you a bit to start to fall asleep, but you recognized the familiar weight of his arm draped over your waist.

-----

You were excited for Mouse when Jay helped him find a small apartment nearby and got him a job as the tech guy for Intelligence. It finally felt like things were getting back on track in your lives. Things were good at work for the both of you, having spent many nights out with Jay and his team at Molly’s. The twinge of jealousy you felt because of Erin had disappeared when she’d found a seemingly nice guy, plus Jay’s assurances that you were the one he wanted. Will had started to come around to the idea of everything that had happened between you and Jay, but he was still very much on the fence.

“I’ve got to go to work,” you told him with a laugh, his arms holding you close, not letting go. His chest was pressed against your back, and you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Five more minutes,” he whined, not ready to let you leave the bed. As much as you would love that, you didn’t want to be late for work. It was going to be a long day, you had a feeling.

“Jay, that’s what you said ten minutes ago,” you reminded him, turning around in his arms. He was still half asleep with adorable bed head and a smile. You kissed him softly, hand gently resting on his cheek. It was lazy, no real purpose behind it besides just kissing him.

“I’ll see you when you get home,” he told you against your lips, loosening his grip on you so that you could escape into the real world, as much as you would love to stay in bed all day.

You texted him during lunch, telling him about your day so far and the funny things some of your students had done. He seemed to enjoy the stories, telling you he loved you and that he’d have dinner waiting for you at home.

Students trickled in after lunch, sitting in their seats. You began your lesson when you heard the fire alarm going off. You weren’t expecting a drill, and glancing out the window of the door, you didn’t see any smoke or anybody leaving classrooms. That was when your class phone rang. When you answered it, you weren’t expecting to be told it was a lockdown.

In a hushed voice, you corralled the kids against the back wall before locking the door, turning off the lights, and covering the window. Then, you knelt in front of them, fire extinguisher next to you, trying to keep them calm and quiet.

The first shots that rang out sent chills down your spine, hearing screaming. It was your job to keep your kids safe, trying to stay calm for their sakes. You promised them it would be okay, against your better judgement. School shootings were nothing new, having gone over every policy and procedure in place multiple times every year in case it did happen. And now, here you were. You didn’t think of anything else other than the group of terrified six year olds sniffling in front of you.

“It’s gonna be okay, guys,” you assured them quietly. “Your mommys and daddys are gonna be waiting for you outside. I promise.”

It was false hope to you. You knew statistics, you read the stories of teachers and students dying as martyrs, they’re deaths being used for politics. You didn’t want to become just another statistic, another name and face on the news. But you would, if it meant the group of children in front of you got to live the rest of their lives.

You could hear your phone buzzing in the drawer of your desk, but you didn’t move. You knew in your gut that it was Jay, who’d probably heard the news of what was happening. It was a distraction, yet you still flinched every time you heard a gunshot echoing through the halls.

You looked up at the clock, wondering when it would be over. There wasn’t a set timeline of how long it would take police to take down a shooter, but you’d always been told it wouldn’t be long. It felt like an eternity though.

The door to your classroom rattled, and suppressing the gasp that bubbled at the edge of your lips was difficult. All of the kids were silently crying, and you made sure to shush them a little more before you stood up. You defensively held the fire extinguisher, tiptoeing your way next to the door, your back against the wall.

You froze when someone breached the door, a gun pointed at you for a split second before you realized it was a SWAT officer. Slowly, you put down the extinguisher as he motioned for you to get the kids.

You knelt in front of them, getting their attention. “Okay, these men are police officers,” you told them in a whisper. “We’re going to go with them, okay? But we still have to stay super quiet. Just like when we walk in the halls during school, one line, hold hands, and stay super quiet.” Most of them nodded as you got them up. “Okay, guys. The nice policeman is going to lead you out really fast, and I’m going to be right behind you. Okay?” The children nodded again, and that was exactly what you did.

You never thought the feeling of the sun on your face would be so relieving, but there you were, running down the steps with the kids in front of you. You kept an eye on them as each one ran to their parents before doing anything else. Jay was probably worried about you, especially because you couldn’t call him since your phone was still in the classroom.

Your hands came up, running through your hair as you looked around at the chaos. There was the media, worried and crying parents, cops everywhere. That’s when you saw Jay pushing his way through the crowd frantically, looking for someone. You assumed it was you. As soon as you saw him, your legs carried you as fast as possible to him without having to think about it. Your eyes met his a second before slamming into him. The familiar feeling of his arms around you was a safe haven for you, was the only thing you wanted in that moment. You didn’t hear anything he said over the sounds of your own sobs. It was all hitting you at once, and you could not process it.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he whispered in your ear, one hand moving from your back to the back of your head, stroking through your hair. Your hands fisted his shirt, letting him hold you.

“Are you hurt?” he finally asked, pulling back as tears continued to drip down your cheeks, but the sobs dying off. He stroked your face, down your arms, still looking terrified and worried.

“No. No,” you assured him, trying to force a smile, but all that came were more tears. Especially when you saw tears in his eyes. “Can we go home?” you then asked.

“Not yet, baby,” he answered, getting a whine of protest. All you wanted was to go home. “I know, but the police have to do their jobs okay? But as soon as they’re done, we’ll go home, order some Chinese food, and watch a horrible chick flick okay?” You nodded, leaning your head on his chest again, loosely holding onto him. You started shivering, mostly because it was October in Chicago, the wind biting your exposed skin.

“Here,” he said softly, pulling off his jacket and helping you put it on. “I know nothing I can say can make this any better, but I’m here okay?” You nodded, knowing he meant it.

It took three more hours before they let you leave, having taken your statement. Jay walked closely behind you, hand on your back as he led you to the car. You weren’t allowed back in the building to get your things. They’d call Jay when you could. The ride home was quiet, Jay holding onto your hand tightly the entire way.

When you got home, you stood in the foyer, not sure what to do. That morning, you’d left like any normal day. Now, things were different. Your view of the world was different.

“Why?” you asked, not to Jay, but just out loud. You weren’t expecting an answer. There was no answer as far as you were concerned. It felt like there was no rhyme or reason for it. “They-Jay, they’re just kids,” you finally said, looking up at him, bottom lip quivering again.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Some people are just monsters.” You knew it to be true. Jay knew it to be true. He spent day in and day out looking for the monsters of the world. He knew better than anybody the kinds of people that were out there.

“They’re kids!” you yelled, not sure why. It felt right, so why not? “School is supposed to be safe for them! It’s supposed to be where they can go to get out of bad situations!” Jay leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening to you. “How are we supposed to protect them? Kids are killing kids on the streets! Guns are in everybody’s hands! I thought Chicago was supposed to have one of the strictest gun laws in the country!”

“I know,” he said, but you cut him off.

“Do you, Jay? Do you?” you asked, not sure why you were so angry at him. “You weren’t there! You don’t know!” How could you explain it to him? How could you tell him how scared you were, how you thought you were going to die? How could you try to relive your students -- a group of six year olds -- crying because they might not get to go home? Was there a way to explain it?

“Y/N,” he said softly, arms uncrossing as he took a slow, hesitant step towards you. “I know what it’s like thinking you’re going to die.” You looked up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know that fear. I understand.”

“No, Jay. That...That’s different. That was war,” you argued, shaking your head.

“It’s the same,” he assured you. “Maybe different circumstances, but that fear you felt. That fear I can tell you’re still feeling. I understand that. And I’m here. I’ll listen. Yell at me, use me as an emotional punching bag, I can handle it, okay? I was there, and you helped pull me out. And I’ll be here to do the same. If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. And if you don’t, I won’t push it, okay? Just like you do for me.”

You nodded, trying to hold back more tears. You still didn’t believe it was the same, but he seemed to think it was.

“How many?” you asked, knowing he’d have the answer for you. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at you.

“Two teachers, eight students,” he answered before you’re hand shot to your mouth, trying to muffle the choked sob that escaped.

“How old?” You needed to know. You’d convinced yourself that you needed to know this.

“Y/N,” he said, shaking his head, obviously not wanting to tell you.

“How. Old.” You spoke through clenched teeth. He wasn’t budging though, mouth pressed in a straight line. “How old were they, Jay! How old!”

“Two of them were five, and the other six were six years old,” he finally answered, unblinking as he told you. You saw your students in the back of your mind. What if it had been one of them? What if you’d failed them and it had been one of them? “Wherever your mind is going right now, bring it back,” he told you.

“I did everything right. I did everything they taught us. Lock the doors. Stay quiet. Grab the fire extinguisher." By the time you got to the last step, you were practically whispering.

"You did everything right, Y/N," he agreed. "And you know what happened?" You shook your head, needing him to tell you. "You got out of that building alive, with no injuries. And you got sixteen six year olds back to their parents today."

“Did they get him?” you then asked, not able to look at him again. This was the answer you truly needed to know.

“Yeah, baby. They got him.” You couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No. I want to go to bed,” you answered. Jay didn’t say anything else, following you to the bedroom. You tried to block it all out of your head, tried to not think about it. But the more you tried not to think about it, the more you thought about it. It was a vicious cycle. Jay got changed into his sweats, and you couldn’t help but just stand there, unmoving.

“It’s okay,” he assured you, grabbing a pair of your pajamas and setting them on the bed. He moved slowly, gently as he got you undressed before helping you into your pajamas. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until he took them in his. “Let’s lay down, okay?”

You nodded again, climbing into bed with him. It took a minute to get comfortable, but when you did, you relaxed into him. Your head rested on his chest, arm draped over his waist, holding onto him like a liferaft. His hands stroked through your hair slowly, gently. It was just calming enough to help you fall asleep.

-----

You were running down a seemingly endless hallway, footsteps following close behind. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, your lungs burning with every inhale and freezing with every exhale. You could see the kids in the distance, but you couldn’t get to them before shots rang out. Each of them fell to the ground, a scream clawing at your throat as tears stung your eyes.

“Y/N!” Who was calling you? It sounded familiar. “Y/N!” Again. Someone was shaking you, eyes flying open.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Jay assured you as you started to realize that you were at home, safe, with him. He let you process it for a couple of minutes, not saying anything, looking at you with tired eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” you answered quickly, sitting up. You didn’t move off the bed, staring at the wall in front of you. Like Jay promised, he didn’t push it.

“Voight was the one to call me,” he told you softly. “Trudy had found out what was going on at the school and had told him, since she remembered a conversation we’d had where I mentioned where you worked. It had just been a small talk conversation, she’d been asking how you were. But she remembered that detail.” That got you to look at him. “I remember feeling terrified, like my blood had turned to ice. I froze until Voight dragged me to my car and told me to go. And when I got there, I asked if anybody had seen you, and they’d all said no. I couldn’t help but think the worst. Then, I saw you come out of the building, alive. I almost couldn’t believe it at first, but then you ran to me. As soon as I had you in my arms, I knew it was going to be okay eventually.”

You didn’t know why he was telling you this. Was it to guilt you into talking about it? Jay had promised he wouldn’t push it, the same courtesy you gave him, so that most likely wasn’t it.

“Y/N, I thought I lost you, for good. Whatever it is, whatever your brain is coming up with, it’s not gonna scare me off, okay?” You nodded, laying back down. It wasn’t like before though, kissing him as soon as you were close enough.

It seemed to take him by surprise before his lips moved slowly against yours. But you didn’t want slow. You wanted him to help you forget, to push it completely out of your mind, if only for a couple of hours. Your nails raked down his chest, eliciting a groan from him.

“We can’t,” he told you against your lips.

“Yes we can.” You didn’t want to take no for an answer, determined to forget. “Please, Jay.” He kissed you for a bit longer, but as soon as you tried to dip your hand down the front of his pants, he grabbed your wrist.

“Not tonight. You’re upset, like me after Ben. Not tonight.” You pressed a softer kiss to his lips, tears coming back. Would you ever stop crying? “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. He nodded, pulling you against his chest again. It was going to take you a while, but he seemed to believe that you’d be okay.

-----

You’d taken a sabbatical from work after the shooting, taking the next year off. You spent the time working with underprivileged youth. It had helped clear your mind, and it helped you move past what had happened. As much as you missed teaching, as much as you missed the younger kids, it gave you a new perspective on what your future could be, professional wise. Jay hadn’t wanted you to do it, but he didn’t stop you. Just because it wasn’t something he agreed with didn’t mean he didn’t support you through it.

It had also given you a lot of time to think about what you wanted from your life in general. You weren’t getting any younger afterall. You were almost thirty-five. You’d been married to Jay for nearly half your life, but it didn’t feel official. The conversation the two of you had a few years ago had been coming to mind more often, when he asked you if you’d consider marrying him again because you loved him, and not because he was joining the Army. It truly felt like a lifetime ago. In reality, it was.

“What smells so good?” Jay asked when he got home. You’d picked up cooking, taking some classes to kill some time. You’d found enjoyment in it, plus, Jay wasn’t one to complain. Until he had to go to the gym, then he complained.

“Making ravioli,” you answered, kissing him when he walked up to you. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” You scooped out a piece, letting him try it.

“That’s good,” he said as he chewed, earning him a gentle smack to remind him of manners. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well, we’ve been married for almost fifteen years, and dating for nearly a decade,” you reminded him. It was always weird to say it backwards, most people dating longer than they’d been married. “I was thinking, maybe it’s time to renew our vows. Officially. In a ceremony.”

“You want to get married again?” he asked with a smug smile.

“Yes, I want to get married again. Because I love you.” His smile got wider as you used his own words against him.

“I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as he quickly left the room, turning your attention back to the food to make sure it didn’t burn. When he came back, one arm snaked around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. What you weren’t expecting was for his free hand to hold up a small, velvet box.

“What is this, Jay?” you asked even though you already knew.

“Open it.” You set down the spoon, taking the box from him. When you opened it, you didn’t know what you were expecting. It was a simple, silver band with one larger set diamond surrounded by smaller ones. It was an engagement ring.

“Jay,” you said softly.

“Try it on.” He didn’t have to tell you twice before you took the ring out and slipped it on your finger. “I know I got you a ring pop for our short-lived last engagement, but I wanted to do it right this time.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Jay Halstead. Since you haven’t asked me anything.” You turned around in his arms, your hand resting on his cheek with the brightest smile on your face.

“Y/N. Will you marry me? Again?” he asked softly. As much as you loved him, and as much as you loved the first time he asked you to marry him, this time, it felt right. This time, it was for real.

“Yes, Jay. I’ll marry you.” He smiled again, hope and love in those blue eyes. This was where you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #fanfiction #whump #fluff #long fic

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madamewriterofwrongs · 5 years ago

Text

911 Week: Free Choice

Day 1 Fluff

Day 2 Fun

Day 3 Hurt

Day 4 Love

Day 5 Comfort

Day 6 Angst

Later, they would blame the alcohol flowing through their system. The truth was, it was inevitable.

Eddie slammed his half-empty glass on the table with finality. “No, I am not playing Fuck, Marry, Kill with my co-workers. That’s incredibly inappropriate.”

From beside him, Buck scoffed, bumping his shoulder. “Come on, Eddie, we’re off the clock and if it will keep Chimney from doing more baby research, I’m willing to try anything.” He shrugged, ignoring Chimney’s look of indignation, and hoping his own face reflected the same puppy dog pout that got him a new bike when he was 12. “We’re just friends having a drink and talking in fun hypotheticals.”

“Yeah, Eddie.” Hen smirked with a mocking tone in her voice. “Fun hypotheticals.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, growing ever suspicious of his friend’s motives. As with most things when it came to the three of them, Eddie surrendered with a sigh. “Fine. But I’m not going first.” He was definitely not going to reveal his choices yet. Not until he’d heard the others. “Hen, of the three of us, who would you Fuck, Marry, and Kill.”

“Easy” she answered without hesitation. “Fuck Eddie, Marry Chimney, Kill Buck.”

Buck clutched his heart in a wounded show. “Hey! That was way too easy for you to kill me.”

Hen only shrugged. “Sorry, baby face, I know where your hands have been.”

Alright, the game was officially on. “Wow. Fine, I’ll go. Fuck Chimney, Marry Eddie, Kill Hen.”

Chimney pointed with his glass, ruefully disappointed at its emptiness. “Careful, Buckaroo, we’re practically in-laws.”

“Ooh, good point.” Buck winced. “I don’t want my sister’s sloppy seconds.” After a moment of consideration, he shrugged and put his own glass to his lips. “Eh, I still want to kill Hen. Go.”

The paramedic rolled his eyes by acquiesced. “Okay… hmm. I gotta go with Fuck Buck, Marry Hen, Kill Eddie.” At Eddie’s faux-offended expression, he patted the man on the arm. “Maddie would never forgive me if I killed her brother. Gotta take one for the team.”

“I’m touched.” Buck responded flatly.

Hen waved off the inevitable bickering that would start between the boys, to turn her attention to the last player. “Alright Eddie, you made us all go before you. What d’you got?”

“Buck.” Eddie finished off his drink before he could second guess his answer.

Chimney figured he already knew the answer but had to ask, if only to see Eddie blush. “To Fuck, Marry or Kill?”

“Yes.”

Apparently, Buck had not known that would be his answer. “You want to Fuck, Marry, and Kill me?”

“Frequently.” Eddie’s eyes went comically wide for a moment before he stared into the bottom of his glass. “I mean…hypothetically.”

Hen found it within herself to grant a small mercy and let his friend off the hook. “Come on, Eddie, that’s not a real answer.”

He sighed. “Fine…Fuck Hen, Marry Buck, Kill Chimney.” Eddie winced. “Sorry, Chim.”

The man waved him off, with a smirk on his face. “I respect that we’ve paired off in our marriages. Very telling.”

Hen had noticed that, too. “Best friends make excellent romantic partners.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more” Buck nodded.

Eddie snapped his head to his best friend, a look of hope he would definitely blame on the alcohol (despite having one glass of ineffective beer). “Yeah?”

Buck would make the same excuse for the way he leaned, never taking his eyes off the man. “Oh yeah, Eddie, there’s been studies.”

An understanding passed between them and Eddie smiled softly. “Good to know.”

That wasn’t good enough for Buck. He raised an eyebrow in playful challenge. “You planning on putting that information to good use?”

Eddie’s face went slack but he pulled it back together in time to seriously consider what Buck was offering.

Hen and Chimney, meanwhile, were very confused – though they had their suspicions about what would happen next. She looked between the boys, hoping one of them would have an answer. “What are you guys talking about?”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Do you want to get married?”

The other half of the table jumped back in surprise and Chimney raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, I just thought you were gonna ask him out on a date.”

Buck didn’t hear any of it, too focused on Eddie’s offer. “You want to marry me?”

“I thought that was pretty clear.”

His response was almost immediate. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Eddie absolutely did not have a lovesick grin on his face – if anyone asked.

“I did say I wanted to marry you, too.” And then Buck was retrieving his phone from his back pocket and typing at an alarming rate.

“I don’t know what’s happening right now.” Eddie looked over at his two stunned friends, laughing at Chimney’s look over terror. “Are you two together?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, we’re getting married.”

“I meant before this very moment, were you together?”

“Nope.”

Hen stared at Eddie for a long moment before collapsing back into her seat. “I need another drink.”

“I second that notion.” Chimney slapped the table to steady his rise from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie watched his friend leave before turning his attention back to Hen. “Don’t drink too much, you gotta stay standing to be my best woman.”

Hen was oddly touched – not that oddly, she’d been rooting for the boys for a long time. “You want me to be your best woman?”

Eddie’s response was to smirk. “Chimney wanted to kill me. It just makes sense.”

“Well I’m honored to be a part of this hypothetical wedding party.”

She finished off her drink as Chimney returned with four fresh ones for the table.

In time for Buck to close his phone with triumphant finality. “And we officially have a marriage license. It’ll go through tomorrow morning and then we can go down to the courthouse.”

Chimney handed Hen her drink without looking, too focused on Buck’s words. “Wait, you two are actually getting married? How long was I gone?”

Eddie looked at Buck with a fond smile. “When you know, you know.”

Buck returned his own look of adoration, only feeling the smallest fluttering of nerves. This was crazy, right? They were crazy? Maybe it didn’t matter.

Chimney was less sure of their actions, but supportive nonetheless. “Are you at least going to tell your sister that this wasn’t my fault?”

“Nope.” He figured as much.

Hen sighed but raised her glass to the newly engaged couple. “Well, congratulations, Eddie. You will officially get your wish to Fuck, Marry, and (probably) Kill Buck.”

They echoed her sentiment with wild cheers and many, incredulous smiles.

#911week2020 #author regrets nothing #buddie fic #fmk #firefam #911 fox #911 fic #cj writes things

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cyberdollmay · 5 years ago

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Husband and Wife

This is from 2018, but I still like it and want it on this blog.

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter Pairing: Hisoillu Tags: Crossdressing kink, trans hisoka, anal, frottage, slight roleplay, finger sucking

Illumi tries on a gift, Hisoka discovers a kink. Miraculously nobody gets hurt.

read on ao3

------------------

As was usual when Hisoka asked for anything, Illumi looked back at him in blank disbelief. He stayed silent for a moment, as if waiting for Hisoka to retract the absurd request, before giving his answer. “This kimono is worth a hundred thousand jenny. I’m not having sex in it.” As he spoke, his haughty, emotionless mask faded away into lightly grit teeth and a furrowed brow. He crossed his arms with little regard for how the trailing sleeves would bunch up and wrinkle. “And I definitely won’t risk getting blood on it.”

Unabashed, Hisoka continued his pitch. “Then maybe not that one...but a dress in general. Maybe some lingerie?” He put an arm around Illumi’s shoulders and pulled him into a delicate embrace as his other hand caressed his side. “I’ll let you do whatever you want with me. I might even call you mo—”

“I tolerate your strange fantasies because you enjoy them. It doesn’t do anything for me.” His voice was cold, but he allowed Hisoka to do as he pleased. A ghost of a smile even formed on his lips as he continued, “But I can think of a few things I’ll have you do instead.”

“And those are?”

“Shut up. Bow to me. Possibly ‘throw your disemboweled corpse at my feet’ like you said earlier.” he put up finger quotes for the last part, rolling his eyes as if it was even slightly out of character for his boyfriend at this point.

Hisoka took Illumi’s raised hand and put it to his lips, kissing the delicate, slender fingers. “I have a lot of emotions.”

Illumi pulled his hand away and sighed, “If you buy the outfit, I’ll consider crossdressing for you. Deal?”

“Deal.” He placed a kiss on Illumi’s exposed neck before letting him go. He left without another word, thankfully. Illumi could see the gears turning in his mind and almost wished he knew where this stupid fantasy was headed. As the door slammed shut, he decided it was probably best he didn’t. Things were more fun the less he understood Hisoka anyway.

Dark, glassy eyes scanned the array of outfits draped over the bed. Even at a single glance, he could tell they were expensive. Illumi almost laughed at the thought of how much money was set before him and how the Hunter Association was paying for Hisoka’s fetish. Hisoka himself stood back, a proud smile gracing his features as he watched Illumi pick up and examine some of the clothes.

The first outfit was by far the most direct: an entirely black set of lingerie, what little there was of it was made of silk and intricate lace. Though the bra seemed to be the smallest possible size, Illumi was sure he lacked the biological ability to wear it, to say nothing of the heart-shaped cutout in the back half of the matching underwear. He tossed it back onto the bed with a sharp glare. “That’s the most impractical thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I think it does its job pretty well.” Hisoka already had a hand pressed between his legs, rubbing himself over his clothes. “And it’s your color.”

Illumi passed over the maid uniform without comment, ditto for the schoolgirl one. There was another kimono, similar to the one he’d been wearing that afternoon, black again but with shorter sleeves and a shimmering golden diamond pattern crawling up the side. “That one’s for married women, of which I’m neither.” He ran his hand lightly over it to feel the material as he looked over the rest. A backless deep blue evening gown with a slit all the way up to the hip, a corseted dress with a skirt that would barely reach his knees, and a sheer, flowy robe with a fur trim, almost too tacky to consider.

He turned to Hisoka, who seemed to have grown bored in the scant few minutes it took for Illumi to come to a decision. “Alright. Get out.” he said, waving his hand dismissively towards the door.

Hisoka raised an eyebrow, “That bad, huh? I thought I knew your style.” he pouted, his whole lanky frame drooping forward in exaggerated hurt. Like a child. Illumi stared at him, blinking silently until one of them decided to budge.

...

Hisoka looked up, giving his best kicked-puppy expression “So are you going to throw them out or...?”

“I’m going to get changed. Wait outside until I say you can come back in.”

Immediately, he perked up, “Oh! Well aren’t you shy all of a sudden.”

“I’m not— “

“You do know I’ll just be taking it off of you anyway, right?” He finished with a wink and a flick of his tongue.

Illumi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried, tried , to remember why he dealt with this man. Assassins couldn’t love, but with how often he excused Hisoka’s behavior, he struggled to think of another reason.

Thankfully for him, emotions were fleeting, fickle as the magician who stood before him. “If you think you’ll have any control tonight, think again.” Illumi said, grabbing Hisoka by the shoulders and pushing him towards the door. “Wait outside until I say you can come in or suffer the consequences.”

Hisoka leaned back against him, though he allowed himself to be pushed. He put his head on Illumi’s shoulder and locked eyes with him, smiling and flushed. “Fuck, you can’t leave out the good part! Tell me what you’ll do, I’m already hard.”

Illumi smiled back, “I could kill you, but I might just have you deal with this—“ he pressed a hand into Hisoka’s crotch “— alone.” With that, he pushed him out the door. Hisoka made a show of stumbling, and might have said something else had Illumi not closed the door on him.

With that out of the way, he was free to make his choice unburdened by hopeful eyes.

When Hisoka was allowed back in, he was treated to a similar sight to the one that brought on this new fascination. Illumi sat in front of the mirror, swathed in the dark robe of his new kimono as he put the finishing touches on his makeup. Hisoka nearly purred as he walked over. “Gorgeous. Did dear Kikyo teach you to do your makeup?” His voice was lilting and playful, completely at odds with his predatory gaze.

Illumi scowled as he swept his hair out from his collar. “What did I say about those kinds of comments?”

“It was a perfectly innocent question.” Hisoka said, his grin making it more than clear that it wasn’t.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed.” Illumi spun his chair so it was facing his impudent lover, his legs crossed primly at the knee.

As was everything else with Hisoka, stripping was a performance. He rolled his shirt up slowly, revealing inch by inch his chiseled physique. His hands rolled down his body before stopping at the waist of his pants, teasing Illumi by rubbing himself through them one last time before they too were peeled away.

Dark eyes drank in the sight of him like a man stranded in the desert. The rest of Illumi’s face remained still, with his makeup hiding the faint color that rose to his cheeks. Their relationship was built, it seemed, on Hisoka trying to get a reaction out of him. It wasn’t out of distaste that Illumi never provided one, simply habit. Noticing the intensity of his gaze, Hisoka took things a step further. With slender fingers he parted himself open, framing his cock perfectly between them. Illumi smiled. No teeth, just the barest quirk of his lips, but exactly what Hisoka wanted.

“I could watch you pleasure yourself all night, but I remember there being talk of fucking me in a dress?” Illumi said, leaning on the armrest.

Hisoka walked towards the bed, tsk-ing softly at him. “My Illumi, so demanding.” he said in a quiet sing-song.

“It’s rude to keep your wife waiting, you know.” He expected Hisoka to approve of his word choice. What he didn’t expect was for him to turn a color close to his hair and make an excited noise halfway between a squeal and a moan. A single puff of laughter escaped Illumi.

Eager to please his “wife”, Hisoka lounged back on their bed. “You’re right, darling. I’m yours to do with as you wish.”

Illumi rose to his feet, sweeping his eyes over every inch of pale skin on display. “As he wished” was a broad category. He’d be content with the soft cupid’s bow of those lips around his cock; Hisoka finally quieting down while he sucked him off. He could grab one of his needles and carve into the smooth skin of his chest, painting Hisoka with his own blood and ruining the dress. Illumi’s eyes caught on the junction between his thighs, already glistening with slick beneath his swelling cock. Hisoka would let Illumi fuck him in any hole, including one created with a knife. The idea alone made Illumi stiffen against his underwear, but it was replaced quickly by another that felt even more scandalous.

He climbed on top of the bed, planting his knees on either side of Hisoka’s hips. Their eyes met, Hisoka’s gaze fierce and dripping with lust, his pupils blown wide with it. Illumi’s was as cool as ever as he began gently rolling his hips.

Hisoka gasped, providing the perfect opening for Illumi to push two fingers into his mouth, preventing him from making any more noise. Though he tried, moaning and then awkwardly mumbling around the slender digits. Illumi shushed him, slowly dragging his other hand down the trail of red hair that lead to his sex. Hisoka purred, bucked his hips up against his lover to try and get some friction from the smooth silk of the robe.

“Suck.” Illumi commanded, “And do it well. This is all we’re using.”

He did as he was told, swirling his tongue around to ensure they were coated. With the ghost of a smile, Illumi started thrusting his fingers further into his mouth, perfectly timed with the gentle thrusts of his hips. Hisoka whined. Despite the obvious displeasure on his face, he kept sucking. Illumi’s smile only grew as he watched. If Hisoka was truly uncomfortable, he’d have put a stop to this all by now. This was only part of the show.

Illumi felt a slight tug at his side, but when he looked over it was already too late. Hisoka’s hand was back on the bed, clutching the torn remains of the cord that used to secure the obi.

“You just bought this,” Illumi chided, grinding harder as his robe began to fall open. “Wasn’t the whole point of this so you could fuck me in a dress?” He removed his fingers to allow Hisoka a response.

“I didn’t want to be the only one naked-- and you’re just teasing me now. The least you can do is give me something nice to look at...” he trailed off, twirling the cord between his fingers. He looked down at it conspicuously, as if inviting Illumi to strangle him with it. No, actually, that’s exactly what he wanted. Illumi’s pulse raced as he thought about it. Leaving bruises on Hisoka’s neck, hearing his choked moans, kissing his blue lips before finally lightening his hold.

It was tempting, but he’d already decided to be Hisoka’s loving wife for the night. Violence wasn’t what he was after. Instead, Illumi shoved his fingers back into Hisoka’s mouth. He shrugged the kimono down his shoulders, parting the middle of the robe enough to show off the lingerie he’d also put on. Hisoka gasped and illumi used that as an opportunity to bully a third finger in as well.

With his free hand he pulled the panties to the side, allowing his cock to spring free of its lace prison. Carefully maneuvering so his pace didn’t suffer, Illumi took Hisoka between two fingers and started stroking him. Hisoka’s hips bucked up violently as he moaned around Illumi’s hand.

Despite everything that was happening, Illumi’s voice was still perfectly even “You’re not doing anything, dear. Can you reach the drawer from there?” He spoke casually between heavy breaths, watching in delight as Hisoka blushed at the simple pet name. He could reach it perfectly fine, and needed no instructions on what to get or how to use it.

Hisoka fumbled around the nightstand drawer for a few seconds before pulling out a sizeable dildo in a garish red color. The color didn’t matter though, as in a matter of seconds it perfectly matched his skin tone. In a flash of pink, the toy slipped into place on his mons. Not the intended use of either of his abilities, but a frequent one nonetheless. He shot Illumi a confused look, sucking at his fingers in silent question.

Illumi pulled them out slowly, leaving a trail of drool on Hisoka’s lips. “I know, I got you all worked up for nothing. But since you have a wife for tonight I figured you’d want to fuck him properly.” He was grateful for the cutout on the back of his panties, there was nothing in the way as he pressed a single slick digit inside and began stretching himself out.

As if he’d been looking for an opening this whole time, Hisoka sat up and grabbed Illumi’s shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. “God, I have the best wife in the world.” he said once they broke apart, his words tumbling out fast and breathy.

“Well now you sound desper--ah!” he was cut off by Hisoka adding another finger inside him. He took Illumi’s hand away and replaced it with his own. Dextrous fingers curled and flexed against his rim, making Illumi shiver. He leaned closer into Hisoka to give him more room, sucking and nipping at his collarbones as he did. Pressed together like this, Illumi could feel Hisoka’s throat rumble as he moaned. As if to answer, he kissed him again.

Precum beaded up from Illumi’s cock, smearing against pale skin and the trail of hair that climbed Hisoka’s body. Gold eyes flashed mischievously as Hisoka spoke, “What if I just finished you like this and fucked you after when you’re all sensitive? Bet I can get you to scream my name.” He licked his lips, “I bet I could make you cry.”

Illumi’s cock throbbed. Hisoka smiled. Both of them could feel exactly how much he wanted him to try. Illumi kissed him again before answering, “You can’t. You wouldn’t anyway, we’re being romantic tonight. You’re in bed with an assassin and neither one of us is getting hurt— I think that’s kinky enough.”

Instead of arguing, Hisoka added another finger. He was up to three, as many as Illumi had shoved in his mouth earlier. Illumi tensed up, gasping at the sudden intrusion. It pushed against a spot that had Illumi seeing stars.

“I think you’re ready.” Hisoka said, stretching his fingers out to test him. He didn’t expect a response, but Illumi fought to give one anyway.

“I— ah— yes. Please.”

As soon as Hisoka removed his fingers, Illumi pushed himself up on his knees and guided the toy to his eager rim. He took it in easily, almost inches at a time, and let out a soft, content noise when he reached the base.

Hisoka could practically feel the tight warmth around him as he watched. His eyes drifted up and down Illumi’s body, drinking in the sight like he’d never see it again. The kimono hung open like a robe, framing Illumi’s pale frame in its elegant darkness. His eyes were half-closed, unfocused and brimming with need. His cock bounced when Hisoka bucked up into him. What he wouldn’t give for a view from the back, to see himself thrusting again and again into Illumi’s tight ass.

“Tell me...” Illumi murmured, hands on Hisoka’s chest to push him back down. When he was laying flat, he continued, his voice breathy and low “Is this what you were hoping for when you saw me in that dress?”

It felt like his whole body was aflame, the answer was obvious. “It’s better.” Hisoka said, voice hitching in pleasure on the end. “Fuck, this is so much better.” His hands found Illumi’s waist, thumbs tracing small circles in the hollows of his hipbones.

Illumi made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan, “Anything for my dear husband.” he said, reaching down to stroke Hisoka’s face. Those words alone made Hisoka realize how close he was to his climax. He pressed his thighs together, trying to stave it off, but it only took a few more moments for him to reach the edge. A warm, electric feeling took hold of him, making him shiver with it from head to toe.

Their eyes met and Illumi stopped moving entirely, stunned by the sudden intimacy of it all. A different warmth, separate from arousal bloomed in his chest. Hisoka smiled fondly up at him. Neither said anything. The moment lasted for just that, a moment, before Illumi started rutting against him again. Harder, faster, chasing his own bliss now that Hisoka had had his.

He came with a sigh. His cock throbbed as he hilted Hisoka one last time, spilling onto Hisoka’s stomach and the pooling fabric of his own dress.

Neither were sure how much longer they stayed like that, catching their breath, taking each other in as their thoughts reassembled themselves. Hisoka was the first to speak afterwards though, “If you stay like that any longer, my legs are gonna fall asleep.”

Illumi rolled his eyes, smiling, as he removed himself. He peeled the kimono off and tossed it in a pile on the floor. As he reached back to remove the bra, Hisoka hugged him from behind, pulling Illumi back onto the bed. “So... How did you like being my wife?” Illumi could hear the smirk he had on.

“The idea to stab you and continue on as normal came up a few times. But I won’t lie...it was alright.”

“You loved it.”

“Just because I got off doing it doesn’t mean I’m going to cross-dress for you all the time. This was a favor.”

But Hisoka couldn’t be convinced. He nestled into the back of Illumi’s neck, pulling aside his hair to leave kisses at the nape. “Whatever you say.”

#hxh #hisoillu #hisoka morrow #illumi zoldyck #my writing

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ellewritesathing · 5 years ago

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What A Man

Summary: What do you do when your best friend gets buried alive? If you're Evan Buckley, you completely lose your shit.

Masterlist

Word-count: 1.1k+

A/N: my mom’s reaction after Eddie Begins was “those two should just get married and raise christopher together already” and i knew my time had come to write my first buddie fic p.s. this is barely edited but i needed validation so here goes

Buck had survived the worst day of his life. He’d been pinned by the ladder truck, survived a tsunami and fought his way back to Christopher, made it through earthquakes, and kept his cool on the days Maddie was kidnapped and held hostage. Each one of those days was supposed to be the worst day of his life.

He was wrong.

The worst day of Buck’s life started at night when the lightning struck. The explosion wasn’t the worst of it; that came after. The worst was that feeling when he realized he’d forgotten Eddie underground. Buck couldn’t forget him - couldn’t leave him - so he started digging as soon as he crawled back to where the tunnel should have been. He’d bring Eddie back home even if he had to dig through forty feet of mud and rising water to do it.

Bobby pulled Buck off the ground and put him back together. He kept telling Buck that he couldn’t dig his way back to Eddie, but that they’d find him no matter what it took. Buck tried to listen to them and their new plan, he really did, but he just kept staring at the place in the ground where the tunnel should have been.

Buck was so busy staring at that spot that he almost didn’t hear Eddie’s voice. If he was being honest, Buck thought he imagined it.

“I’m pretty cold.”

That’s all Eddie said before he collapsed, but that was all Buck needed to hear for his heart to explode in his chest. His body rushed him to Eddie’s side before Buck was even capable of making a coherent thought.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

That’s all Buck said as he wrapped his arms around Eddie and carried him to the truck for Hen to take a look at him. His heartbeat a mile a minute while all Buck could think about was how lucky he was to see Eddie’s face again.

Chimney tried to get Buck to give them some space to start pumping warm IV fluids but Hen said it was fine, so Buck stayed with him the entire time. He held onto Eddie’s hand as they checked for broken bones and organ damage and only let go because the hospital staff made him. But that didn’t mean he left Eddie’s side. Buck was even there when they did the CT scan, though he wasn’t sure why because that’s usually reserved for family or partners.

Speaking of family, thank God for Carla Price. Buck wasn’t sure what they’d do without her looking after Chris when they were on calls like this. She understood what needed to be done five minutes after being on the phone with Buck. At least one of them knew what to do.

Buck sighed and tried to get comfortable in his chair for the fifth time that night. Eddie insisted that he didn’t need to stay for the whole observation period, but Buck made it pretty clear that he wasn’t going anywhere.

After a while, Eddie woke up and tried to sit up in his bed. “Hey,” he said quietly, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them. “Have you heard anything from Carla and Chris?”

“Carla got him in bed on time and Hen checked in with them before she went home,” Buck said. He straightened himself out to check on Eddie again. “How are you feeling? Are those pain meds enough because I can get a nurse in here-”

“No, I’m fine,” Eddie said in a voice that sounded anything but. He sighed and sat back against the bed, closing his eyes for a second. “God, I just want to go home. These lights are killing me.”

“You want me to turn them off?”

Eddie laughed before wincing slightly. “The lights are fine, Buck. Seriously.”

Buck was quiet for a moment, or at least quiet for him, as he mumbled an okay and looked down at his hands. After everything that happened, he wasn’t exactly sure what to do now. It’s not like he’d been much help when it happened anyway, but now he just felt in the way.

“So Chim said you were pretty upset when the tunnel collapsed,” Eddie said when the sound of the local news calling him a hero seemed to get to him.

“Uh, yeah,” Buck said as he shifted around and brushed his nose. “We all were.”

“Right,” Eddie said. “The team.”

“Yeah, the team. Exactly.”

Deflection was one of the only things Buck thought he was any good at, or at least he hoped he was considering all the practice he had over the years. He’d deflected whenever old boyfriends and girlfriends asked him about something real, whenever his parents tried to spend ‘quality time’ with him, and whenever Maddie asked him about Eddie.

Never one for self-reflection, Buck shoved down his feelings as far as Eddie was concerned. He was on the team, which made it infinitely more complicated than it ever was with Abby, and he was Chris’ dad, which meant if it didn’t work out then Buck would never see him again. It was way, way too complicated for Buck to even think about it.

So, for now, Buck would content himself with their almost daily lunches and dinners, video-game sessions with Eddie and Chris, weekend trips, and anything else in between. He wouldn’t let himself think about the future. Buck knew he’d just burn those bridges when he got to them.

“So did the whole team offer to dig me out of the tunnel by hand?” Eddie asked.

“Uh, what?”

As he said, deflection was a specialty of Buck’s.

“Did the team think digging through forty feet of mud by hand was a feasible idea?” Eddie asked. He turned in the bed to look at Buck, and Buck turned awkwardly to face him.

“Well, I mean …” Buck let out a breath. “No? But you know me - I’m always coming up with dumb ideas on calls.”

“Dumb ideas like embracing the cross brace?” Eddie asked. “Or the dumb ideas that got you and Chris through that tsunami?”

“That’s different!”

“How is it different?”

“Because-”

Because they aren’t you.

“Because the cross brace was dumb luck and I lost Christopher that day,” Buck said. “It’s just different, okay?”

Eddie was surprised by the outburst and Buck hated himself for stressing him out even more after everything he’d been through that night, but he dropped it. “Okay.”

He never pushed when he knew Buck couldn’t handle it. How Eddie knew when that was, Buck had no idea. Eddie was just like that; he always knew what Buck could handle and how to deal with what he couldn’t. He made sure Buck ate something every day, sent texts to let him know when he and Chris were home okay, and got him to talk about the rough stuff whenever he was ready.

Eddie was smart and gentle, kind yet forceful, and the best friend Buck had ever had.

What a man.

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fanfic

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platypanthewriter · 4 years ago

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Yuletide fic 4/5

Part One/Two/Three/Four/Five Read them as I post here, or all at once in Ao3 under peterqpan

Steve found the sleigh bells, took them in the garage, and tied them all into a big hank they could shake together, and then he drug Billy outside, suggesting they

take a look at where to tie it,

and run a cord out the window to jangle in the dead of night.

Billy yanked him around the corner of the house, and shoved him into a bush tall enough to hide them, sliding both hands up the back of Steve’s sweater, and kissing his open mouth as he yelped.

“Mmng,” Steve mumbled, relaxing in his arms. “Hi,” he whispered, bright-eyed, and kissed Billy’s nose with lips already chilly from the cold. Billy groaned softly, shoving Steve deeper in the bush with his weight, nuzzling his face into his boyfriend’s cold throat, and mouthing up the vein in the side of Steve’s neck to feel him squirm, biting back a groan.

“Hi,” Billy told him, and Steve snorted, pulling him in tighter.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, melting into him, and then jerking as the branches of the bush dug into his back. Snow showered them, and they both shut their eyes, huddling together.

“Steve Harrington,” Billy said into the kiss-tender skin under his boyfriend’s jaw, “—you know Santa’s not real, right?”

“Shut up,” Steve laughed, with a shiver.

“If Santa was real,” Billy told him, pausing to brush snow out of Steve’s hair, and slide Steve’s earlobe through his teeth, “—you wouldn’t have been so lonely at Christmas, right?”

“...mmmn,” Steve whispered, his arms tightening around Billy’s neck and shoulders.

“Santa would’ve been smart enough to pack one of us up, right? Put you under my tree,” Billy told him, smiling as Steve pulled away enough to kiss him, urgent and hot. Billy could feel Steve’s dick, half-hard through his jeans even in the freezing darkness.

Steve was trembling a little, probably with laughter, smiling so hard their teeth kept catching on each other’s lips. “He’d have brought you here,” Steve whispered, brushing snow off Billy’s shoulders, and sliding his hand up the back of Billy’s head to hold him closer. “Wrap you up under my tree,” he whispered against Billy’s lips, between kisses, his breath warm, and his lips soft. “Every year I’d have my friend again. Around midnight I’d be trying to marry you so you wouldn’t vanish again.”

“Oh shit, no,” Billy shook his head, humming as Steve’s fingers raked through his hair, and up between his shoulder blades. “No,” he said, grinning, “—keep me—”

“Parents might not’ve noticed they had two kids all of a sudden,” Steve suggested, and Billy laughed harder, nodding.

“Keep me in the closet, if they ask.”

Steve snorted a laugh. “Nah, can’t hold your hand in the closet.”

Billy felt like his bones were gonna creak, as tightly as Steve was holding him, but it felt so good he leaned into it, arching his body to get even closer. “Can’t fuck me in the closet,” he whispered, and Steve moaned quietly, muffling it against Billy’s neck.

“Santa needs to bring me some privacy,” Steve muttered, bucking his hips, and Billy laughed. “Fucking...soundproofing,” Steve huffed. “Locking door.”

“They’ll probably leave tomorrow,” Billy told him. “We got tomorrow night. Christmas night.”

Steve sighed, and Billy felt himself smiling again. “...y’know your tree’ll be up for New Years, you could—”

“Invite them again,” Steve whispered, jerking back to stare in Billy’s face. “You’re a genius.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Billy nodded, raising his eyebrows. “That’s my secret, yep.”

“It’s not that much of a secret,” Steve said indignantly, and Billy leaned into him.

“Gimme another minute,” he whispered. “Then we can do your weird Santa shit.”

“Always,” said Steve, pressing their foreheads together, and then their cheeks, like they were dancing. Billy let his eyes close, taking deep breaths of snow, and Steve’s laundry soap, and his sweaty fir-tree smell from wrestling the tree inside over his usual aftershave.

“Gonna unwrap you under the tree tomorrow night,” Billy whispered, and felt Steve grin.

“See, look,” Steve whispered excitedly, “—we put the bells on a branch of one close to the house, and we hang the chain on the part that hangs over the roof, and then when we yank it hard from the window—” he waggled the tree, and covered them in snow, and Billy yelled incoherently, but Steve just beamed in the light of the side windows, brushing snow out of Billy’s curls. “—they hear Santa.”

“We can do it from a window, dipshit,” Billy hissed. “Without a ladder. Look, Hopper or somebody can take them upstairs, and jangle the bells or whatever, and throw the chains, and you and I do stockings and presents— I’m not getting up a ladder in this weather, we’ll die—”

Steve kissed him, grinning. “Love you,” he whispered back, tugging him back around the house into the garage, and Billy stared at him as the door closed behind him.

“...you can’t just...every time I’m pissed at you,” he growled, and Steve glanced around and leaned in to kiss him, quick, but softly, and whispered it again.

“Fuck you,” Billy snarled, his face flaming, his fingers gripping Steve’s sweater, and having to let go, in case one of Steve’s damn houseguests walked in the garage . “I’m gonna eat a boyfriend cookie,” he threatened. “I’m gonna snap their heads and feet off—” and Steve stepped back, laughing.

“No, no, leave ‘em, leave ‘em. I’ll get you a cookie.” Steve trotted off to get one, while Billy stuck car chains in trash bags,and tried to get his breathing—and his pounding heart, and his dick— under control. Steve came back with a heart cookie with a dick drawn on it, and said “Probably wanna eat that fast,” like he hadn’t just drawn a cock and balls on a heart cookie in front of five children, God, and Mrs. Henderson.

Billy shoved it in his mouth.

“That’s the appetite for dick I like to see,” Steve whispered, and Billy choked, coughing crumbs as Steve laughed so hard he wheezed for air.

“Bastard,” Billy hissed, coughing, just as the door opened, and Jonathan stuck his head in. “Hey,” he said, frowning at Billy, dying choking on Steve’s cock-cookie, and Steve rubbing his back.

“Uh,” said Jonathan. “Is, um, is the car...working?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve told him, grinning. “It’ll start now. Thought it might be good to get it vacuumed out. Cleaned up. I changed the oil, too.”

“Oh!” Jonathan blinked, turning to look it over as his shoulders relaxed. “Oh. Yeah, that’s—that’s good. Will and I can do that. I’ll get him. Um.”

Billy coughed again, wiping his eyes, and Steve grinned at Jonathan. “He’s just choking on my...cookie.”

“Jesus goddamn christ,” Billy hissed, hitting at him, but Steve dodged, spinning away.

“Uh,” said Jonathan, looking even more awkward, if possible. “My—my mom said, um.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, even though he was smiling, and Billy cleared his throat. “What’s she need?” Billy asked, and Jonathan blinked again, then smiled.

“Uh, no, not that. It’s not—she said if I…” he winced, biting his lip. “If I...got some pictures of—of both of you, you might—you might...want...that.” He grimaced at the floor. “I wouldn’t take them to the photo lab! They’d be—nobody would see them.”

“...the fuck are you saying,” Billy whispered, registering that he’d stepped in front of Steve.

“You were, uh, you were kissing in front of the tree,” Jonathan glanced up, wincing. “Mom thought you might...want a picture. I just—” he blew air through his cheeks, watching Steve. “I know I was shitty about Nancy, I wouldn’t—I’ll throw out the film, if you want. I just—I wanted to ask.” He sighed. “This time.”

Billy was still stuck on the idea of a photo of him kissing a man, but Steve spoke.

“You ever apologize to her for that?”

“Y-yeah,” Jonathan nodded. “Yeah, yes, she—she was mad. She, um. She should’ve been. She—” he cut off, blushing hard, and Steve wrinkled his nose. “I made it up to her,” he mumbled, smiling, and Billy shuddered as Jonathan kept talking. “But I don’t want to...I don’t want to be...shitty. D’you want some pictures? I’ll wait ‘til I know it’s safe. Do it at home, develop them, I mean. Lock my door.”

“...y’know what, yeah,” Steve said, and Billy stared at him. Steve winced, biting his lip. “If—if that’s okay,” he said to Billy. “I—I want to...have...something? Not if you don’t want to.”

Billy had been ready to feed Jonathan Byers his camera, but Steve looked...wistful, and like he knew what Billy wanted to say. Billy considered. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Sure. Make a copy. Give him the negative, though.”

Steve laughed disbelievingly, reached out to Billy, and then yanked his hand back, and Jonathan hid his face.

“Holy crap,” he groaned. “Okay. I’ll uh, if I see...anything, I’ll take some more. I’ll be careful, though. I’m—I’m gonna go get Will, do what...do whatever you need to do.”

Billy was still tempted to hit him a few times, but Steve wrapped his arms around him from behind, warm and padded from the sweater, smelling like Steve, and laughing against Billy’s neck.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Fuck. We can—we can have Christmas photos, babe—can you—can you imagine—”

Billy could definitely imagine himself, awkwardly swearing at his boyfriend, and probably red as a tomato, and sighed. “Sure,” he said, grabbing Steve’s head over his shoulder, and holding it closer to kiss.

“Mmmn,” Steve laughed into his hair, his voice muffled.

They walked out to find Lucas leaving, resentfully stomping around, and his sister sighing at the sky. “I’ll come over tomorrow,” he told Max, who nodded, biting her lips.

“...it’s okay if they won’t let you,” she said, shrugging, hugging herself, and frowning intensely at his shoes.

“You should come get him,” said his little sister. “Bring him back. My mom thought you were staying. She made so much pie.”

“I can eat pie,” said Max, her mouth quirking, and Lucas’ shoulders relaxed a little, watching her.

“You can come over early as you want,” he said, and his little sister raised her eyebrows, snorting.

“Maybe not too early,” Max said, smiling a little, and he held a fist out to her. She bumped his knuckles with hers, and watched them walk to the road before closing the door. Steve squeezed Billy’s arm, and he realized he was just standing there watching Max as the doorbell rang, and Max yanked the door open with a laugh—but it wasn’t Lucas, it was Susan, her mom.

Susan Hargrove was clutching what looked like a lidded pan of brownies and a bowl of salad with white knuckles, and her gaze flicked from her daughter, to Billy, and back. She bit her lips together, swallowing. “I—I brought the presents,” she said, jerking her head over her shoulder, “—but um, you said Steve and Billy were cooking, I thought they might want—”

She trailed off as Joyce and Hopper wandered out, and Claudia Henderson, and Will. Susan took a slow breath, and swallowed hard. “Oh,” she whispered, then forced a laugh. “Oh, not—you’re not alone, of course, why would—why would—” she shoved the pan at Max and spun to walk back out the door, and Max shoved them at Billy and chased after her, watching her mom try to unlock the car with shaking hands.

“You want her here?” Steve asked, and Billy set his jaw, thinking about the times Neil had held his head against the wall, speaking in that reasonable, low tone that always made Billy feel crazy, for not measuring up, and Susan, standing there. He ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. “You can say no,” Steve whispered, putting an arm around his shoulder, and Billy sighed, and shrugged.

“Don’t care,” he said, feeling exponentially more tired than he had ten minutes before.

“Mom,” Max was saying. “Mom. Mom.”

“Here are your stockings,” Susan said, wiping her nose. “And here are—”

“Mom!” Max yelled, grabbing her mom’s shoulder, and Susan flinched back with a little yelp. “Mom! Do—do you want to stay,” she asked, breathing a little heavily like it’d been an effort to ask. “Do you want to come in?” she asked again, her hand firm on her mother’s arm. “Do you want to stay?”

“That doesn’t seem very polite,” Susan said, her voice high and wobbly enough to carry, and Steve leaned out, cupping his hands around his face to yell.

“Plenty of room,” he called. “Might have to share a bed with Mrs. Henderson. Come on in!”

She jumped, staring back at them, and her eyes fell on Billy. She bit her lips together, watching him, and he wondered, bitterly, whether she was too fucking scared of her stepson to notice Max’s shiny wet eyes. Maybe I should go just fucking...hide in the garage, he thought, gritting his teeth. Keep them safe from Billy Hargrove—

“That okay, Billy?” Susan asked shakily, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Yes!” Max yelled, waving her arm, but Susan patted her shoulder.

“Is it okay?” she asked again, looking at Billy, and he stared back, until Steve elbowed him, and he nodded.

“...there’s room,” he said, his throat a little sore and hoarse, and her shoulders relaxed.

“Okay,” she nodded, and she looked delighted, which was— confusing, and—and weird as hell, definitely, and he stood there glaring into the middle distance until Steve pushed by him to take an armload of presents, and two stockings, and Max followed with another box.

Billy turned and went back in the house, handed the food to Joyce Byers, and walked out to see Dustin, Will and El talking in front of the fire, lying on their stomachs. He veered off and stomped out the poolside door to walk along the empty pool and stand in a thicket of trees, taking shaky breaths, and wiping his cheeks. He kept his back facing the house, counting off breathing, and then heard the door open behind him. Footsteps crunched, and he was almost ready to turn around and try to act like—like a normal fucking human being—when Steve spoke.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, coming up to slide his arm around Billy’s waist.

“Just having a smoke,” Billy whispered, his voice weirdly nasal-sounding.

“You just...don’t have any cigarettes, is all,” Steve whispered back, squeezing him closer. “You want me to tell her to go?”

“No! No,” Billy shook his head, wiping his nose. “I just—” he took another slow breath, and blew it back out. “I just thought…” I thought she thought he was right about me, Billy bit back. “It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Steve pulled him around the little patch of trees into the shade from the windows and kissed him, his hands warm and cupped around Billy’s face. “I was listening,” he whispered. “Shit, sorry. I was, I was listening, I just wanted to kiss you.”

“...okay,” Billy said, digging his fingers into handfuls of Steve’s sweater. He focused on the texture against his skin. Steve leaned their heads together, his faint shadow through the branches flickering across the snow. “Yeah,” Billy took a deep breath of outside, without the usual smoke. The cold made him cough, and he laughed, standing up again. “...I’m good. How’re you doin’? Where’s your, uh,” he sniffled, wiping his nose. “I got presents now, I guess, where the hell are your parents?”

“Ha,” Steve said, smiling a little.

“They better get their claim in, is all, I think every parent in there wants to adopt you,” Billy whispered, and Steve laughed, a little downcast. “I mean it,” Billy told him, yanking Steve closer by the sweater, and kissing him firmly. “My boy’s in high fucking demand.”

“Only by you,” Steve laughed, but it sounded genuine, so Billy didn’t argue.

“I could slide my hand down your pants,” he whispered, leaning close to breath it against Steve’s jaw.

“Shit,” Steve whispered, shivering. “Yeah, fuck.”

“Think anybody’ll walk out here?” Billy whispered back, yanking at the buttons on his boyfriend’s pants.

“Hell no,” Steve whispered, sliding his hands down Billy’s sides to his belly, and snickering as he jumped back, shuddering. “They’d freeze their nuts off, get back here.”

“You’re gonna freeze my nuts off,” Billy hissed, blowing on his fingers. “Why do you live here, there’s—there’s fucking monsters, my cock’s trying to crawl up between my lungs—”

Steve reached out and grabbed his shirt, and yanked him back in. “C’mere, babe, c’mere—”

His hands were still cold, and Billy suffered, shivering like the dashboard of an old truck, in fits and starts. “J-jesus god,” he whined, as Steve hooked two fingers over the top of his pants, and Steve started laughing into his shoulder.

“It’s too cold, babe,” he whispered, wrapping his sweatered arms around Billy’s sheer cotton clad ones.

“F-uck-k y-you,” Billy stuttered, curling his body into his boyfriend, but feeling no warmth. “I c-can t-tak-ke it.”

“Luh —brrr,” Steve said, shivering. “Love you,” he tried again, hauling him back towards the house.

“D-damn-n i-it,” Billy mumbled, and Steve put an arm around him, steadying him as he stomped up the front steps, stuttering every profane word he knew.

Steve held the door and pulled him inside, then hauled him upstairs, pushed him on the bed, and started yanking sweaters out of the closet to hold up. “Hrm,” he said, squinting over, and then attacked in the dim light from the hallway, yanking something over Billy’s head.

“Fmmrghmph!” Billy growled, and Steve sat next to him, yanking the sleeves over his numb hands, and the rest down over Billy’s belly and back. He pulled Billy close, rubbing his arms, and after his shivering subsided, Billy sighed. “Great, I’m wearing a blanket.”

“I think they’re setting up sleeping bags downstairs,” Steve said, squeezing him, and Billy squeezed him back.

“Love you,” he hissed, as revenge, but instead of going awkward and stiff, Steve buried his face in Billy’s neck, nuzzling like friendly sandpaper. “Eugh, get off,” Billy told him, squeezing him closer.

“You love me,” Steve mumbled happily, and Billy rolled his eyes. “It’s almost Christmas,” he said then, and Billy glared at the top of his head, stroking his hair.

“God, shut up,” he sighed. “I’ve said it before. You’re such a dork.”

“Merry Christmas to me,” Steve sang, his laugh hot against Billy’s collarbone. “Merry Christmas to me, Bill-y Hargrove loves meee~ee, merry Christmas to meeeee—”

“You’re fucked in the brain,” Billy sighed, leaning his head against Steve’s.

The parents-that-be sent Will up to tiptoe along the hall calling “Steve? Billy?”, and Billy sighed, smacking a last kiss to Steve’s cheek before calling “In here!”

Steve grinned from him to Will in the dim light of the hall that shone into his room. “Had to get a sweater on Billy, he was freezing to death.”

“Oh,” Will nodded, shifting his feet awkwardly. “I think they want me out of the way while they get presents out. Um. Your room’s really...plaid.”

Steve sighed.

Billy had a thought, remembering the wrapping paper in the garage, and ditched Steve to run down there. “Anybody needs to wrap, there’s paper and tape in the garage!” he shouted, dodging cooks through the kitchen and stepping into the garage. He was joined by Claudia and Joyce fairly quickly, and resisted making any orgy jokes as they both yanked tags off presents and started rummaging through the supplies he’d laid out. “Is it weird to give Steve walkie-talkies,” Claudia Henderson asked Joyce, and Billy shook his head.

“You know he’ll just give one back to Dustin anyway,” he told her, and she beamed at him and pinched his cheek.

“All I have are Will’s colored pencils,” Joyce said, and Billy grimaced.

“I think Will would like those better than Harrington would,” he said, “—maybe invite him for New Years instead,” he suggested, and she cocked her head, thinking, then squeezed his arm with a smile.

Steve poked his head in, and Billy pushed him back out. “No children in here!” he announced, but Steve fought him, hanging on to the door. “You leave!” he yelled, laughing. “I need to wrap some stuff!”

“What?! Why?” Billy asked, startled, as Steve shoved him back out. Billy ended up helping Dustin find the Swiss Miss, and watching Hopper and finally Susan duck into the garage. He ignored them, and snatched the mushroom mug away from Will. “Look at this mug,” Billy said, pointing at the long, browny-orange mushrooms. “You are not old enough to be drinking out of this mug.”

Will, Dustin, and Jonathan all blinked and then started snickering, and Max came in to see what was going on, and gagged after a glance at it. “Gross,” she hissed. “You’re all gross. They’re just mushrooms.”

“They don’t really look like mushrooms,” Will giggled, blushing.

Billy shrugged, slurping his hot chocolate, and then took the opportunity while Steve wasn’t around to crunch out to his car through the blizzard and get Steve’s presents. He stomped back in just before he froze solid, brushing snow off his horse-blanket of a sweater, and remembering what Steve had said about Santa hats covering his best feature, glaring down to see knit covering his chest and the top of his jeans.

Max took the packages as he stood there, snow melting into his hair, and waited until he kicked his shoes off to hand him his mug of hot chocolate, then wordlessly tromped into the front room and stuck Steve’s presents from Billy under the tree. Billy watched her blankly, the snow on the floor melting into his socks.

He’d gotten her a scarf and hat when he knew she wanted a skateboard repair kit, because his dad had been waiting for the receipt. Maybe Susan had actually asked, and listened. He wondered, in passing, whether Susan would keep up the traditional joke, and give him a stocking full of coal.

Billy wasn’t looking forward to his father finding out he’d blown all his Christmas-shopping money on Steve, and not presents for he and Susan, but for the moment, it was easy to relax into the warmth of the house, and the sweetness of the hot chocolate. Somebody had stuck a candy cane in it—Billy suspected Mrs. Henderson, who was hanging more of them on the tree when he wandered in to bake himself dry in front of the woodstove.

El and Max were zipping a sleeping bag together right under the tree, and Billy scooted them a little to the side and did the same, sighing.

“You and Steve gonna sleep next to us?” asked Max, raising her eyebrows, and Billy felt himself redden, mouthing Santa at her. She squinted at him, and he mouthed it again, feeling like a moron. El was crawling around, humming along to Frosty— eugh— so he spelled it out with his finger on the sleeping bag, slowly, in caps. S-A-N-T-A P-R-E-S-E-N-T-S.

Max snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Billy stuck his tongue out at her, and wandered back to poke his head in the garage—where he found Susan, filling two stockings with candy and mandarin oranges. She went perfectly still, lifting her chin like he was about to attack, and he nearly pulled the door shut again, but she stuffed the stockings behind her, and he laughed, stepping inside, and pulling the door shut behind him.

“What, you afraid I’ll know there’s no Santa?” he asked, baring his teeth in a smile, and she swallowed, glancing down at her hands. “Don’t worry, I figured it out a long time ago, when my Christmas present was a new mom who didn’t want—”

“They’re still supposed to be a surprise,” she said, taking a shaky breath. “They—they’re a surprise, you aren’t supposed to see them.”

Billy paused. “...one of those is for me? What, you put all the coal at the bottom this time, as a surprise? ‘Billy, guess what, you weren’t a waste of space this year, no wait, haha! You were!’”

“There’s no coal in these stockings,” she said, clenching her jaw. “I have never put coal in your stockings. I would—I would never—it’s not funny.”

It was cold in the garage, Billy thought, his mind wandering the way it did whenever the subject turned to whether he was worth anything. His socks were wet, in places, and he could hear Joyce Byers singing a loud, off-key rendition of Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree through the door to the kitchen. He clasped both hands around his mug of hot chocolate, and the half-melted candy cane stuck to his thumb.

“No coal,” Susan said softly, and Billy forced a laugh.

“Stupid, right, it’s not like I care if Santa thinks I’m a good little boy.” Susan bit her lip, hunching her shoulders, and Billy laughed, turning back to the kitchen.

“Wait! Thank you,” she said, and he turned back to frown at her. “I—I know you wanted Christmas with your friend,” she said, laughing nervously. “I—thank you for having us. Me.”

“...oh,” he laughed. “I’m just your gateway to Max, right?”

“No!” she said, looking like she was gonna cry, and Billy kind of enjoyed it, thinking of all the times she’d just watched as her husband slammed him around the house. Guess I do deserve the coal, he thought, smiling, though it wasn’t really funny. “No,” she said again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—I’m glad you’ve found a-a way out. And you—you’ll graduate soon. You can get a job.”

“What,” he said, squeezing his mushroom mug harder, to feel the edges of the ceramic dig into his hands.

“Once—” she started, then stopped, and he recognized the effort to keep sobs silent. “Once you’re safe,” she forced out, “—I can get us away,” she said, her eyes spilling over with tears. “I—I know you—you mustn’t say anything, Billy, please. D-don’t say anything to him, I know you—I know you want him to—to be proud of you, but please don’t—”

“I-I wouldn’t,” he whispered back, dropping down to sit on the step to the kitchen, because suddenly his knees felt weak.

She took a shuddering breath, nodding. “Did you spend the money Neil gave you on Steve?”

Billy set his jaw. “Yeah.”

“I saved some receipts you can give him,” she said. “They’re wrapped, you can write the tags,” and Billy felt weirdly warm, wondering what else she’d done to protect him.

“I won’t tell him you’re leaving him,” he promised, leaning his head in his arms. “God. Fuck. Why didn’t you…” he trailed off, sighing, and remembering when he’d have been only too proud to have been a good little boy, and run to his father to snitch. “...did you get Max a skateboard kit?” he asked, and heard Susan’s movements stop.

“...Neil said he would,” she said, slowly.

“...bet he didn’t,” Billy said, feeling his heart pound at the disloyalty, in front of, he’d thought, his father’s most steadfast supporter.

“I bet he didn’t,” she agreed, sighing, and Billy pushed himself to his feet.

“I’ll write her a note. Take her next week,” he said, cautiously, and Susan choked out a laugh, sniffling.

“You definitely don’t deserve coal.”

By the time Billy left the garage, he was determined not to let any adults get him alone ever again. His heart couldn’t take it, he thought, edging around Mrs. Henderson in case she drug him into the pantry to have a heart-to-heart.

Steve was sitting on their zipped-together sleeping bags, beaming up at the enormous tree, and Billy made for him, only to be waylaid by Hopper, who reached out, prodded his bicep, and stepped back, hands spread.

“Steve! Get over here,” he called, and Steve looked up and saw him and Billy, and trotted over, ridiculous smile wide. Billy added to his count of missed kiss opportunities, determined to claim his rightful property, just as Hopper yanked them into a football huddle by the shoulders. “You boys ready to go?” he asked, waving Jonathan over.

“Ready to sleep, maybe,” Billy muttered, hoping his Christmas eve wasn’t about to get any more exciting.

“As soon as they’re asleep, hang the stockings and put the presents out,” Hopper hissed, grinning wider than Billy’d ever seen him—and apparently found an ally in Steve, who nodded like they were going to war. He even saluted, and Billy elbowed him hard in the ribs as Hopper narrowed his eyes. “So they’re ready.”

“You’re gonna throw shit on the roof at like six in the morning,” Billy groaned. “Aren’t you.”

Hopper’s grin went a little smug, and Billy repressed the urge to run over to the sleeping bags, crawl in head first, and refuse to come out until May.

“We’re ready,” Steve whispered back.

“The stockings are all ready,” Jonathan said, nodding.

“We could liquor up their hot chocolate,” Billy suggested, half-serious. “Knock ‘em out early.” Steve, Jonathan, and Hopper all laughed.

Next (last!) chapter

#Harringrove #Giving El a childhood #Found family #Boyfriend cookies #platypan FINISHED FIC

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