#his time is running down is running out is plodding on and on and on and there's nothing he can do!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Blue Skies on Fire

More cannibal king!König! It's been a while, but I think it's time to get the ball rolling in this story. I think you guys will like where this one goes. Just trust me, it's going somewhere. Either way, have fun with trying to spar with König! He's... Not the greatest teacher.

Tws: cannibalism (mentioned), cannibals, fighting, sparring,

Wordcount: 3.1K

Art from This Post

Rest of the Story Below the Cut

Blue Skies on Fire

The wind whispered through the long grass of the meadow around you. Up above, cerulean skies stretched far and wide as the eye could see. If you squinted, you could see wisps of clouds breaking apart.

“Again.”

You groaned and covered your eyes with your arm. The grass split as heavy footsteps plodded forth. When you opened your eyes, a heavy hand was in front of you.

“Up,” he commanded and grabbed your hand and tugged.

Hauled up to your feet, you looked up to see a familiar golden mask staring back at you. His blue eyes seemed disappointed in what he saw.

“Do we have to?” you knew you sounded whiney but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

He grunted as he swung his club back up over his shoulder.

“You need to be ready,” König grunted, “I don’t want you hurt.”

“Hurt by what?” you asked for what was probably the hundredth time.

“Barren,” he replied as though that made any sense.

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know what that means,” you complained as you readied your stance.

“You will learn,” König snorted, “now try again.”

You thought it was terribly unfair. When you were back in the military, they tried to make sparring matches at least somewhat reasonable. They tried to make things easy for recruits, make fighting an accomplishable task. In fact, you had been rather proud of your prowess before you came here. You’d gotten quite the reputation as a queen of the matts, but here König had you on your knees before him.

“Try,” König repeated impatiently.

You looked down at the club in your hands and sighed.

Again.

You lunged forward and swung your club up and over your head to smack down against his, easily getting swatted aside and getting a devastating kick into your ribs that had you sprawling onto your back.

“You said you were strong,” König muttered as he walked over to you again.

“I was,” you grunted as you got back to your feet, “I was good!”

“Has your time here made you a rabbit?” he shook his antlered shroud sadly, “I have been too nice.”

The ache in your back said otherwise. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was painted black from how many times he’d shoved you into the earth that afternoon.

“You could at least try to give me some tips,” you griped and readied yourself again.

He tilted his head and thought for a moment, pensive as he considered your words.

“You’re small,” he finally said, “light on your feet. Use that to your advantage.”

With a big breath in you drew yourself back upright. Letting it out, you readied your training club again.

König smacked the earth with his club, “Again!”

And so you lunged again. This time you tried running straight at him. He swung his club and you ducked, then smacked him in the chest. He grabbed you by your back and threw you back, nearly making you trip over yourself as you gathered your balance. He didn’t give you a break as he surged forth and swung his club at your legs. You jumped at the last moment to try and overhead swing him on the head but in an instant he parried your attack and thrust you back.

You manged to land on your feet this time, but already he was in your face and shoving you back. Feet slipped on mud, and you fell back on your butt once more.

“Better,” König grunted approvingly and held out your hand.

A smile quirked on the edge of your lips. That was the best you’d heard out of him all day.

“You fight weird though. Like a rabbit,” his eyes narrowed, “you know you can hit me anywhere, ja?”

You let him haul you back up to your feet and stumbled back.

“What do you mean?”

“I am a man,” he said plainly, “aim for my cock? Go for my eyes? You still aim for my chest. If you hit my gut, I will laugh.”

“What?” you scoffed, “okay, if you actually let me get a good hit in, I could make you eat your words.”

“Eat my words?” he scrunched his brows.

“Prove you wrong,” you offered.

He laughed heartily and dropped his club. He puffed out his chest and slapped his gut.

“Try,’ he grinned behind his mask.

You grumbled under your breath but readied your stance. You took in a deep breath, then slammed your fist into his gut and yelped.

It was like hitting a brick wall.

“What the fuck?” you snarled as he laughed at your pathetic attempts.

“Men here are strong!” he patted your head, “I am strong. If you can beat me, you will be safe! No one can hurt you!”

“But aren’t you worried about me actually hurting you?” you said as you shook the pain out of your hand.

He gave you a look that had you withering into yourself.

“Okay okay, fine,” you spat as you picked up your club, “again?”

He took a couple steps back and nodded.

“Again!”

This time you had an idea.

You charged and feigned an attack at his knee, but at the last moment you dodged his swing and struck him on the back. You were about to stop and ask if he was okay but in an instant he was rounding on you and swinging down on you. You dodged to the side and smacked his side again. He swung overhand and you leaped out of the way to smack the back of his knee and he grunted.

Success!

You paused to crow about your victory only to jump back when he swung at you again.

“I got you!” you cried out as you dodged his second swing, “what are you still going at me for!?”

“Not enough,” he grunted between swings.

He managed to grab your arm and threw you back again. This time, you caught yourself and bounced back, this time aiming a for his upper thigh. You managed to nearly get him when he slammed his hand on the back of your throat. Weakly, you looked up to see his bemused expression.

“Very good,” he said, “but too slow! Use your size! Be quick, rabbit!”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Then be strong!”

You rolled your eyes and he slammed you back into the earth.

“Young boys fight better than you,” he crossed his arms over his chest as he stepped close to look down at you.

You glared up at his silhouette.

“You suck,” you spat back.

“Not me,” he said condescendingly, “you suck. You are a rabbit.”

“I’m gonna beat your ass,” you snapped.

“You have failed,” he drawled, “many times.”

You slumped back into the earth. Exhaustion flooded your system. You ran your hands over your face and groaned bitterly.

In a moment of brief humanity, König sighed and uncrossed his arms. He sat by your side and helped you sit upright.

“Drink,” he offered a skin of water, “rabbit is tired.”

You snatched it from his hands and drank heavily. Water pooled heavily in your empty belly. König hadn’t even let you eat anything before he’d hauled you out to the meadows, or ‘training grounds’ as he called them. Once he saw you’d had enough, he took the skin back and closed it tight.

“We will do this again,” he told you, “many times. We must make you strong.”

“I am strong,” you spat, “I’m just not some freak like you.”

“Freak? Me?” König scoffed and clapped your back a bit too hard, “you are a freak! Small, weak! You cannot even sew your own clothes!”

“I’m learning,” you sniffed, “Honeysuckle is teaching me a lot.”

“Good. You need to learn,” König said firmly.

His face softened for a moment.

“You know, I do not do this because I want to hurt you,” he said softly, “I do this to make you strong.”

“But I just don’t get why you’re doing this now,” you sighed, “you never did this to me before.”

König twirled with a few strands of grass at his feet. He sighed, and said, “I must make you strong for the Barren attack.”

“Barren attack?” you asked.

“You know the red man?” he asked.

It took you a moment, but the memory of when he’d confronted the other tribe of men flashed behind your eyes.

“Those were the Barren?” you asked.

He nodded sadly, “They are hungry. They want more food. They want our food. If we fight, they will want you. I need you.”

You put your hand over his and patted his skin.

“You don’t want them to hurt me,” you surmised.

König shook his head slowly. He shuffled to your side and wrapped an arm around your side and pulled you close.

“I want you,” he said softly, “I love you.”

You stilled in his arms.

“That is right, ja?” he checked.

“I mean, it depends on what you’re trying to say?” you laughed nervously, “like, ‘love’ means a lot of things in english. What are you trying to say?”

“I will live with you forever,” he snapped his fingers and said, “I want you always, forever! I will be with you when you’re weak, when you’re sad, when you’re happy and strong. Always.”

“That…” you bit your lip, “well that’s probably one definition of love.”

König lifted his mask to press a kiss against your cheek, “We’ll live together forever. But I can’t promise that if you can’t stay safe. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“I’ll be okay,” you promised, “I’ll get stronger.”

“It would be nice if you got stronger faster,” he grumbled.

“I’m trying!” you huffed, “it’s hard!”

“Life is hard,” he retorted.

“I mean, yeah, but you don’t need to make it hard,” you complained and your stomach growled, “I haven’t even eaten anything all day.”

König looked up at the dying sunlight.

“Here,” he offered a stick of dried meat, “this will help.”

You took it and chewed on it quietly. It wasn’t much, but it at least helped stave off the sharpest pains.

“Meat makes you strong,” König nodded stoically, “very good for you. We need to go on another hunt soon.”

“What would you catch?” you asked.

“Whatever we find,” König shrugged, “are you tired?”

“A bit,” you admitted.

“Come here then.”

He hauled you and into his lap. You tugged at his mask and he slipped it off and looked down at you fondly.

“You know, not many know my face,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t like people staring at me,” he admitted, “I have to be strong, but if I could, I would never leave my home.”

“Really?” you sat back to look him in the eyes, “I never realised.”

“I must be strong for my tribe,” König stroked your jaw, “I don’t have to be strong for you though.”

You leaned up and kissed the stubble on his chin, “Good. I like seeing this side of you.”

“Do you?” he smiled boyishly.

“Of course I do,” you kissed him again, “you’re perfect. I just wish that we met somewhere else.”

“You wish I was weak like your men?” he laughed.

“No! I mean,” you shrugged, “I miss my old home.”

“But it sounds so sad,” he frowned, “you say there was no fresh fruit, less trees. And if you are strong, I can only imagine how weak your people are.”

“Hey!” you poked his belly, “I’m strong!”

“In mind,” he conceded.

You rolled your eyes and laid your head against his chest. You ran your hands through his chest hair and sighed. The sun was setting fast and being out here in the dark was dangerous. You needed to get home soon.

As if reading your mind, König pushed you out of his lap and stood up. He held out a hand for you as he put on his shroud.

“We must go,” he sighed, “we can be soft at home.”

The next day, König dropped you off with your old friend to go and hunt.

“And what are those?” you asked as you followed the old crone through the trees.

“Blackberries,” she said and plucked one off the bush and held it out to you, “they grow tall. Dewberries grow across the ground.”

“Do they look similar?” you asked.

“Very,” Birch replied, “you can eat both, so it’s not bad if you mix them up.”

“So it’s not like those red berries earlier?” you checked.

“No, not at all,” Birch closed her good eye and popped one of the berries in her mouth. The juices ran through her teeth and down her chin, but with the other side of her face she smiled contently. “They’re some of my favourites.”

“I like them a lot,” you agreed as you took another one into your mouth, “but I think I like the blueberries more.”

“König likes the blueberries too,” Birch mused as she turned to keep walking along the trail.

As you walked, you watched the light flutter through the treetops and down onto the forest floor. Birch carefully harvested a few types of moss and put the clumps in deerskin bags. Occasionally, she’d point out some herbs and get you to pick them for her.

“I like harvesting with you,” Birch said as she walked around a large boulder.

“Do you?” you asked as she harvested lichen from the crevices.

“I do,” Birch said, “it’s easier. You make the work fast.”

“So you only like me as your mule,” you laughed.

“Mule?”

“You like having me around to carry your stuff.”

“Oh!” Birch laughed and shook her head, “maybe, but I like talking too. It’s fun.”

“Don’t you find it annoying?” you asked, “I mean, everybody my age already knows all the things you’re telling me.”

“I like teaching you,” Birch hopped back down, limbs still limber despite her advanced age.

She guided you through the trees once more, only stopping when she came across a small pond.

“This is nice here,” she said and sat by the shore.

You hummed in agreement and sat beside her.

She offered you a stone.

“I’m alright,” you smiled and pushed her hand away.

“You don’t skip stones?” she asked, surprised.

“I don’t know how to,” you admitted, “my friends tried teaching me when I was younger.”

“Not everyone gets it,” Birch flicked her wrist and let the stone fly. Once, twice, three times and it sank.

“Nice!”

“Thank you,” she smiled brightly.

As you sat, the two of you chatted back and forth about going-ons in the tribe, Birch trying to teach you to skip stones along the way. Birch told you that a couple of women were arguing over a rug, and that their husbands had gotten involved recently. König apparently had his hands full with them.

You told Birch about König’s training sessions and she laughed.

“He is a strange man,” she shook her head woefully, “you have a hard fight ahead if you want to beat that man.”

“I don’t get what he wants,” you cursed as your stone sunk on the first skip, “I punched him in the gut and it felt like a brick wall.”

“Brick wall?”

“Like punching a rock.”

“Hah!” Birch adjusted your grip on the next rock, “you tried hitting his tummy? Why would you go for that when you could go for his eyes?”

“That’s what he said,” you grumbled and managed to get a couple of skips on your next throw.

“He fights well,” Birch said approvingly, “he has to if he wants to be our leader. People here don’t listen to weak men.”

“So I hear,” you mused.

“I tell them to listen to reason, but what do I know?” Birch shrugged sarcastically, “I’m an old woman.”

“You’re the smartest person I know here.”

“At least somebody sees it,” Birch snorted, “the only other one who listens to me is Raccoon.”

“A lot of people tell me about Raccoon,” you noted.

“He’s our healer,” Birch smirked, “if he wasn’t smart we’d be dead. He won’t tell anyone, but I told him all about the herbs here.”

“Did you?”

“I told him how to set bones, too,” Birch said and skipped a stone.

“But nobody listens to you,” you concluded.

“Only Raccoon and König,” she paused for a moment, “and you too.”

“I try,” you patted her hand.

“I know you do,” her features softened, “it’s nice.”

She paused for a moment, then turned and asked, “Why is König trying to make you stronger, anyways?”

“I think he’s worried about another tribe attacking,” you shrugged.

“The Barren?”

“That’s the one,” you agreed.

“They’re not too difficult to deal with,” Birch mused, “they’re usually too hungry to make good decisions. If it was the tribless, I’d be worried.”

“The tribeless?” you asked.

“They’re…” Birch’s good lips pursed into a line, “they’re not good,” she said a word in her own language, “sick, you know?”

“Not really,” you admitted, “I’ve never heard of them before. What do you know about them.”

Birch took a deep breath. Her left hand flinched upwards, then curled into a fist and lowered.

“Too much,” she said through gritted teeth.

A part of you wanted to press further, but something held you back. Maybe it was respect for your elders, or maybe it was the worming feeling in your gut that something was terribly, terribly wrong these ‘tribless’ cannibals. Ultimately, it was best to let the subject die.

“If the Barren aren’t so hard to deal with, then why is König so keen on training me?” you asked.

Birch blinked and looked at you strangely. You repeated your question and her good eye lit up.

“König’s just careful,” she said with a soft smile, “he’s a good leader because he’s careful. He’s probably worried some might try to raid the main camp while they fight somewhere else. They do that.”

“Do they?” your eyes widened.

“Of course,” she laughed, “it’s just basic tribe warfare. They try to steal some of the weaker members to eat later. Or something else. I just like to think they’re eaten.”

Chills ran through you. Sometimes it was easy to forget what world you lived in. Other times, you couldn’t feel more alien.

“Do you think they’d go after me?” you asked nervously.

Birch laughed and put a hand on your shoulder.

“If they saw you,” she said, “they’d kill you immediately.”

She skipped another stone as though she hadn’t just warned you of your imminent demise. Birch left you to your thoughts as she skipped stones and whistled a strange tune.

You wished she hadn’t.

Konig Dump

Konig Alternate Universes

Cannibal King!Konig Page

[chubsthehamster]

I mentioned this in the end notes of my choose your own adventure fic but. does anyone else go crazy thinking about the ticking clock set to the tempo at the beginning of vow. because I do. every day. every fucking day.

[shotmrmiller]

Big man, Big mouth

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader (because demeaning girl usage) WC: 4.9k it's just gross smut and simon gets kinda mean sometimes nothing crazy :) ty to the brain to my pinky @xoxunhinged and precious beta @waves-against-a-cliff catching my errs

The smile you’d had on your face all morning is subsequently wiped once you’re told that you won’t, in fact, be spearheading a team meeting with air conditioning and a cup full of your favorite medium roast, but instead, you’re being sent somewhere where practical experience trumps theoretical, textbook knowledge. And alone, at that.

Guess your travel mug is about to make its big debut.

The construction site is alive with purpose— the buzzing of drills, raucous banter, and the low hum of music from a stereo. You run a hand down the back of your skirt that is more tourniquet than office attire you were forced into wearing, regretting not drawing the line at the heels pinching your toes. "Professional setting, professional appearance," your boss had said. Nothing here demands you to stand in ironed clothes with dust settling on your eyelashes and the taste of grit on your tongue.

You feel out of place, a white-collar worker surrounded by hard hats and steel-toe boots. Perhaps taking this job for a promotion was hasty on your part. But it’s too late now and the sun above you is wilting the starched collar of your blouse.

Best get this over and done with. (The bottle of barefoot wine at home will be your reward for your suffering.)

Walking to the home still in a semi-skeletal phase had been a bit uncomfortable, anxiety gnawing at your nerves and the polished shoes at the skin of your heel. But what made your shoulders tense and spine stiffen was the crew. You'd expected disgruntled workers, sure. A bit of grumbling here and there. No one likes to have someone with more authority and less experience trample all over your work, telling you what's what.

Not them eyeing you like you're a fish in a shark tank. A little minnow pulled out of her natural habitat and into the mix with dominant predators. The paper on your clipboard crinkles audibly as one of them— the leader, you gather— stops you before you can get any closer than he feels necessary. He plods over, hard hat tucked into his arm, wiping his sweaty brow with his sunbaked forearm, a few wood curls nestled into his beard.

"Ya lost?" he grunts.

There's a guy with a comb for hair and limpid blue eyes staring right at you from the back as he leans on a half-built wall with a smarmy grin on his thin lips.

"No! No, I, um—" you stammer, "I'm here as a temporary replacement for, um—"

He cuts you off with a dismissive wave, fingers thick as steel beams. "Right. Yeah, yeah." Bloody rude. "The inspector." His head tilts and spits on the cement, eyes giving you a once over, lingering on the bare skin of your calves. "John," he says then jerks his head behind him, to the shady inside of the home. "Let's get ya out this sun 'fore you melt like sugar on the driveway."

You keep your lips pressed in a line, swallowing down the retort sitting on your tongue with a hint of frustration, and follow him on swift feet. It is unforgivingly hot and at least there's a roof overhead. Most of the walls were still just wooden beams, the foundation concrete covered in dust. Rough-bristle brooms lean in corners, the stereo now sitting silently in the center of what’s to be the living room next to a man with a massive frame and a sweat-soaked wifebeater who didn't bother turning around as you made a beeline for the only fan feebly cutting through the muggy heat inside.

John from behind you grabs your attention. "So? What's the issue this time? We jus' had tha' muppet pass through a week ago." You turn around, the breeze now somewhat cooling the back of your neck.

"Just need to personally check what's left—" you clear your throat, giving the clipboard a waggle, "on this. Nothing too grand." The blonde one with shorn hair hasn't looked up once from the blue cooler between his legs.

John scratches his head. "Right." There's a drag of heavy boots behind you. "Temporary, eh?" His eyes are like cerulean rivets, pinning you in place.

Gruff Scottish cuts in, tone dripping with amusement. "Will ye look a' tha'," he mutters, accent thick and deliberate, "bosses up top sent a bonnie wee lass to keep an eye on things. Make sure ye pay good attention, aye?" The brute comes to stand in front of you, flexing one arm, bicep like a knotted tree trunk. "Would hate ye missin' the show."

Show ‘em your teeth, little fish. That promotion is already in your hands, don't let it slip through your fingers.

"Listen, you—" you snap back, cheeks burning hot but then his eyebrows raise to his hairline, the corner of his lip curling in challenge.

"It's Soap, hen."

“...Right.”

What the hell kind of name is Soap?

A third voice— crisp English just like John's— cuts through the air from the second floor. "Wipe the slobber off ya chin 'nd leave 'er alone, Soap! You still hav'ta sweep up 'ere!" A man with bronze skin and a cap adorned with the Union Jack in the center pokes his head out from over the wooden railing. His smile looks stiff.

"Miss." His eyes flash to Soap. "Move it. You can get your cock—" wow, mouth like a sailor, that one, "wet while on company's time." His gaze falls on you for a moment longer before disappearing back into the upper level.

Soap grumbles what sounds like a "fuckin' 'ell Kyle" but heads for the stairs anyway, steps creaking under his weight. "Ah'll be 'round if ye need me," he says with a wink.

Unlikely.

John absently shakes his head and turns to the grizzled, mountain of a man still hunched over that cursed cooler of his. "Simon." He suddenly moves then, rising smoothly to his feet for someone his size. He's a wall of muscle, a very clear force of nature, and he's now staring at your—

your shoes?

"Alrigh'," he gruffly says, "We'll get outta your way. The faster you can look for, whatever it is you're lookin' for, the faster you can get out o' my beard." He places his hard hat back on and gives Simon a nod. "To work, break time's over."

Simon walks past you without so much as a glance, his thick arm brushing roughly against your shoulder with enough strength to make you take a step back but then he speaks. "Don't trip on nothin', girl. I'd hate f'r our pretty mascot t'get injured on the," he emphasizes the last word, tone heavy with mockery, "job."

Your tongue is pressed firmly behind your clenched teeth as you straighten your skirt. Get this shit over with.

--

Their attitudes toward you had left some to be desired, but they had done their job seamlessly. Not a crack in place nor a bolt out of it meaning that ticking off the rest of the boxes on your clipboard had been a cinch, making the promotion even easier. By the time you were ready to go home— the thought of leaving behind the tangy scent of sweat and iron adding a pep to your painful step— the sun had already dipped, casting long shadows over the construction site.

Until John's unwelcome chivalrous gesture: sending one of his to accompany you to your car. "t's late out," he says, leaving no room for lip. Fine, whatever. The faster you get out of here the better. Saliva pools in your mouth at the thought of having a chilled glass of wine with chinese takeout for dinner.

Except the one waiting for you in the garage with a lit smoke between his chapped lips is Simon. He flicks it to the ground, smothering out the embers with the heel of his boot. "Move. Ain't got all day."

The last strand of your patience snaps and your mouth twists into a snarl. "Then leave off! I don't need a fucking chaperone. Believe it or not, I do know how to look both ways before crossing the street."

You'd only taken three irate, swift-footed steps away from him, clipboard trembling in your grip when the back of your shoe dug into raw skin; a sharp, sudden agony flaring out in a hot, thick wave and you stumble. The world spins for a second, colors blurring together until—

The relief is immediate. The hot needles on your raw nerves dulled down to a throb, vision blurring from the brief bite of intense pain. You breathe in a deep lungful of air, tasting salt and sawdust while you flex your feet, hissing when the blistered skin stretches. At least the damage to your toes is minimal.

But not to your pride. Tripping over your own feet, because the driveway while unfinished is still flat, now means you're being hauled over his shoulder, which is broad enough to be surprisingly comfortable, in the opposite direction of where your car is with your heels in hand. The fabric of his tank feels stiff under your sweaty palms.

"Is this kind of behavior normal for you? Or am I just lucky?" your voice is tinged with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. His arm tightens uncomfortably around the back of your bare thighs even though the office skirt you managed to squeeze into is knee-length.

"Only when I spot clumsy-footed birds like you. Can't 'ave ya splat on the concrete like a crime scene outline." A slow creeping flame spreads from your neck to the apple of your cheeks when you notice the guys staring at you from a window upstairs, Soap giving you a toothy smile. Even Kyle seems amused. Mortifying. Someone strike you down now. Actually, no. Then who'd feed your cat once you’re gone?

"'nd John would chew me out f'r lettin' ya break these," his long fingers circle your ankle, "in 'alf." You try to muster a response, but the words sit behind your teeth, your chagrin having tangled your tongue into knots.

Then he stops and the creaking of hinges reaches your ears. "Wait." Your eyes land on a black cargo bed, caked with dried mud. "Are you just going to sit me in your car?" He sets you down in the back seat anyway, tossing your shoes inside.

"Truck. I can drop ya on the patch of grass if ya like." Simon leaves you there, going to the driver's side rummaging through the middle compartment. His work truck is exactly what you'd expect from a man like him. The seats are covered in a thin layer of dust, you imagine he gives no one a ride, a well-worn visibility vest strewn about, an extra pair of work boots stained with splatters of white paint—the size difference of your shoes compared to his has you swallowing a lump the size of your fist down.

Simon pulls out a mid-sized red box and places it on the floor mat then props your leg up on his. His grip is firm but gentle as he inspects your open wounds and then sucks on his teeth. "A bit stupid, wearin' ankle breakers when out on a job." He prods around the inflamed skin, the pain making you tense.

"Don't worry about me and mi—" you hiss when he digs his thumb into the arch of your foot, "mine. Maybe I wanted to look nice." Fuck those shoes.

"'m sure ya did, though the skirt's all ya need." The warmth of his breath spreads through your toes and up your calf, raising gooseflesh.

You can't hold back a snort. "And now you're going to tell me that you prefer women in skirts and dresses?"

Simon switches legs, careful to not aggravate the blisters further. "I prefer my women with no clothes. But both of those make it f'r easier access. Like yours. Can see your knickers from 'ere." That has your heart skipping a beat, eyes widening with disbelief. Instinctively, you sit upright, back straightening with a pop.

"They're red."

You chuff out a breath. He's lying. You'd put on the only available pair you had at the time since you'd forgotten to dry your laundry the night prior. A simple, cotton grey. "You—! Fucking hell, I almost kicked you in the teeth." Simon's looking at you now, eyes dark and intense.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's tried," he says with a smirk, voice low. "White, then."

The first aid kit still lies on the floor mat. "Stop talking." Simon ignores you, instead grabbing your other leg and pulling you closer toward the edge of the seat. Toward him.

"Green," he rumbles, his hands cupping the bottom of your feet, thumb and pointer coming to gently tug on your toes before moving his way up. You feel like a young, dewy-eyed farm girl having her first tumble in the hay and he's only now stroking the protruding bone of your ankle. The motion is slow, deliberate, a tender caress that sends a shiver up your spine. Has it truly been that long since you've had your body shape imprinted into the mattress?

"How about," you swallow thickly, "you patch me up proper and I'll be on my way?" If anyone else had heard, they'd say you're trying to convince yourself that being here isn't what you really want. But the little garble in your voice gives you away.

Simon hums, a sound that vibrates in your chest, sinks into the marrow of your bones. "Little bird wants t’go home 'nd 'ave only a throw 'nd a cat t'warm 'er bed?" You feel a different kind of ache this time, pulsing sharp and deep in your core. "Eh? Y'wanna curl up on the couch with one o’ those sex books while playin’ with your pretty cunt?" 

The idea of having to use the blue bullet sitting inside the nightstand drawer sounds unappealing. And it’s probably out of battery too. Damn. 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and shake your head. He doesn’t accept that as your answer.

"Wha's tha'? You will speak when spoken to, pet. Do you," he emphasizes the last word as he begins to open your legs by the knees, "wanna go home with an empty pussy or let me fill it 'til you're leaking cum out ya ears?"

Can't say no to him serenading you like that. You clench around nothing, hesitance crumbling like sand. "B-but what about your job? Aren't you still working?"

Simon grabs you then, dinner plate-sized hands wrapping around the softer part of your waist. "'M on a break. I'd say I deserve it after all my 'ard work." He lifts you effortlessly, the hem of your skirt rolling as you widen your legs further.

He rolls his hips once, feeling the bulge in his jeans brush against your sex, feather-light, and you bite on the thickest part of your tongue to keep from moaning like a cat in heat. "And what about us being in the open?" you ask though the question is redundant. Besides the crew's work vehicles, there's not another car in sight. If anyone else had been working nearby, they've long since left.

He seems to share your sentiment. "If tha's all? 'm tryin' t'see if I got it righ'."

No, that'll just about do it. "Okay. Alright." God knows you need this. Even if it comes from a stranger you'll probably never see again. Simon doesn't wait any longer, pushing up the rest of your skirt to pool above your thighs.

He hisses long and low through his teeth. "Tight little thing, innit?" Yeah, well. You were going to tell him that while putting on your skirt that morning had been an absolute nightmare, it wasn't that small on you until the tips of his fingers glided along your clothed slit. Oh. He's not talking about that.

"I guess grey's my new favorite colour. Especially this—" he thumbs the darkened wet spot on the fabric, "shade." When he adds more pressure, you can't help but let a gasp out as you buck your hips in want of more. "Easy. 'aven't even started with you." Simon opens the front of your blouse with a single hand, coming undone easily. He goes for the clip of your bra that's serendipitously placed on the front.

"Gotta let the girls breathe," he says. Whatever his reasoning doesn't matter because all there is, is relief. No more underwire digging into your skin, no more suffocating restraint. You only wore the blasted thing because all of your sports bras would've been visible through the blouse.

Simon rolls a hardened bud with one hand while unbuttoning the front of his jeans with the other. "Eatin' this," he gives the mound of your pussy a mean tap, "gonna 'ave t'wait. I'll get ya off though, don't worry tha' little head o' yours."

You wonder if he says that to everybody he fucks in the back of his truck. "What? Why?"

His length sits hot and heavy over your cunt. And it's big enough to kill. Death by cock. That'll be on your epitaph. "'m a big geezer," he mutters, fingers toying with the side of your panties, "lyin' down so you can sit your cunt on my face isn't gonna work righ' now."

Definitely says that to everybody. "Doesn't matter. I'll take care o'ya 'nother way." Simon pulls the dampened gusset to the side and lowers his head to— "Pretty like I thought it was." A fat glob of spit lands on the puffy lips of your pussy and he smears it around with his cock, tip sliding right along your clit. He uses his thumb to press himself down harder, more friction, more sensation, each slow roll of his hips pricking neglected nerves awake, alive, and it feels good. Surprisingly good.

The way the scar on his lip whitens as he bites it tells you it's just as good for him too. "Thought about it much, did you?" He goes lower this time, ruddy tip catching on your entrance momentarily before returning up.

"Since you walked inside a place you 'ave no business bein' in. Birds like you shouldn't be minglin' in the trenches with us grunts." The tips of your ears are hot as he stares down at you. "Should be sittin' nice 'nd pretty in a cubicle with air conditionin' 'nd an oversized mug o' watered-down coffee."

Simon cups the swell of your arse, canting your hips to glide himself better. Every bump and ridge on the underside of his cock is rubbing slowly on you and the thought of licking a slick stripe on the vein only tightens the white-hot coil below your navel.

"Or better yet, sittin' at home doin' wha'ever else while waitin' f'r a man like me to come back from work with a ribeye 'nd redskin potatoes in the oven." He lets your panties fall back into place; the sodden front almost transparent as he rubs against your swollen clit at the same time. God, he's fucking. your. panties! And you're bloody letting him.

What a way to break this year-long dry spell.

He bends your legs so that your feet are now being held flat on the thick of his chest with his hands as he picks up the pace. The suspension springs on the truck begin to groan. "I like mine medium rare."

Your back's come off the seat, spine bowed. You're close, so fucking close, you've got slick coating the inside of your thighs, dripping down to your arse, probably staining his polyester material underneath. This is torture and your pussy feels tender, raw, yet he's barely touching the focal point of your desire. If he doesn't make you come in the next minute, you're breaking that thick neck of his.

It's like he read your mind because he uses his cock to tap on your clit firmly, hard enough to hear a wet thwack and he does it once, thrice and—

And then your body gives, an intense climax that steals the breath in your very lungs, has you your blunt nails biting into the muscle of his forearms, his groan drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears. Your face feels hot, probably is hot to the touch and there's a sting on the middle of your bottom lip and can taste iron on your tongue. Even the tips of your fingers tingle.

Through your half-lidded gaze, you see Simon holding onto the top of the truck while his breath comes in ragged gasps. Did he come? You curiously touch the expanse of your stomach. Not sticky.

"No. I didn't come. You," he takes in a deep, steadying breath then reaches to squeeze the sides of your face, cheeks plumping under the pressure. "You almost 'ad me, though. I don't remember the last time I 'ad to think tha' 'ard of London t'not finish. But I'm not done with you."

Simon hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and takes them off with urgency only to stuff them in his back pocket. "Better with no clothes on, remember." You can feel his twitching cock leak onto your heated skin.

"If ya need, use this." A black bundle of fabric lands on your chest, what is— It's a mask? If he means to hide your identity from his coworkers, you're not sure this skull mask is going to work. He drags you to him roughly until your arse is hanging off the seat. And then there's a hot, dull pressure pushing against your entrance that's followed by a searing sting, and it, it's so much, it's too m-

"Tight fucking-, Ya need t-, fuck, to relax," he grunts, fingers dimpling your thighs. Simon's thrusts are jerky, short, as he wrenches your walls apart. Even with your creamy cum and his spit it's still a struggle. "'Alf way there," and a rattled breath escapes you. You're being split right down the middle and there's still some left?

For the next few moments only your squeaks and mewls can be heard as he makes room for him, your hand flat on his lower stomach— feeling the coarse, thick patch of hair on it— as if you're trying to keep him away, out, something but then he snarls and snaps his hips. You've heard of a ring of fire some women experience at some point in their life and you think this is yours. The thin skin of your entrance burns, most likely stretched to its limit, like a rubber band about to snap.

"Easy," he drawls out, "The worst's over. Took me like you're made f'r me. G'mme ya 'and." He takes your clammy hand and has you touch where the two of you meet. His eyes are glued to your fingers that are split into a v, pads feeling your cunt soaked in viscous slick.

The groan he lets out at the sight makes the world around you spin. "Stay jus' like tha'." Sure, not like you’ve got anywhere to go. Not with his hands tight around you like metal cuffs. Simon holds nothing back, not even in the very first minute. Doesn't warm you up to it, don't let you try to get used to him turning you inside out. His thrusts are long, firm, hungry— bottoming out every single time until he sits snugly at the plug of your womb. Grinds up when he meets resistance, eyeing your features in case there's discomfort.

The only ache you've got is the one he's fucking into you. (And you also might be partly lying on his tape measurer.)

But then he hitches your legs up, hands around the back of your thighs as they're pushed toward your chest and that pulls a whine out of you that you're sure John and the crew heard. "There she is, bird's got a healthy set o' lungs on 'er." He keeps the same, unforgiving angle and doubles down, using the bulk of his weight to pin you in place, forced to do nothing but take and take and take.

Until Simon's strikes the side of your arse with an open palm. "D'ya hear 'em?" Wha? What? Hear who?

And then you hear it. Him. The handsome one with the hat from upstairs. "Ghost?" he sounds right across the street and Simon hasn't stopped rocking the truck as he fucks you right through it. "Wha's tha' Kyle?" His voice is steady even though there are beads of sweat rolling down the side of his temple.

"I said good job on all your 'ard work 'nd we'll see ya tomorrow. You 'ave a good night too, Miss." There's a crude whistle followed by a pained grunt and a quick mumbled apology. Maybe if you don't respond they'll just get in their car and go home.

But then John calls out to you too.

"Simon must’ve missed you, sweetheart. “Wow. He barks out a laugh. " 'ave yourself a good night, Miss.” Then, sternly says, “Tomorrow at 6, Simon.”

Simon, though, has no intention of letting you take the easy way out. He smacks your arse again, right in the same— already tender— spot from just moments before. "Answer 'em, pet. Or 'ave I fucked all the manners outta ya?" He accentuates the last three words with thrusts so sharp that if he hadn't been holding you in place, you would've been sent sprawling back.

Whatever words you're supposed to say are snagged in your throat like hooks, only whimpers and high-pitched gasps falling past your trembling lips. He drags his thumb over your bottom one, the calloused pad of it tough. "Go on. Be good 'nd tell 'em to 'ave a good night too. And no names. Only one comin’ outta you should be mine."

When you open your mouth, he weaves a hand down to your clit, jerking it in fast little circles that have you forgetting where you even are. "Mf- g-good," he gives you just a second of respite to spit on it. "Good night-," his fingers are almost torture, and god, you're going to come in front of all of them. You warble out the words hastily, feeling your impending orgasm come at you with the speed of a freight train.

"Tha's a good bird, singin' when I tell ya to." There's no stopping this, not with all of his focus on the little bundle of nerves and every drag of his cock making your spine arch as if he were winding it. "Squeeze my cock, tha's it."

Your legs shake violently, toes curled, and you can feel a cramp begin in your calf but none of it matters, not when you're seeing bright lights behind your scrunched eyelids, not when you feel fingers in your mouth to stifle the scream that's viciously wrenched from your throat nor when Simon growls out a "Fuckin' 'ell."

"I told ya, if ya needed somethin' t'bite on, use tha'," he jerks his head toward the mask that's tight in your fist. Your soul is still floating adrift in the wind and he's already trying to make conversation. And he did not say to bite on it.

"I'm not puttin' this unwashed thing in my mouth." You languidly watch him inspect his hand, looking at the deep purple teeth imprints on his fingers. Whoops.

"But you'll 'ave me after sweatin' under the bloody sun for 'ours." His hand slides behind your nape, lifting your head a bit as he lowers his chest to meet your sweat-slick one. Your hands come to claw at the shifting muscles of his back when he begins anew, this time his pace is relentless, sharp, predatory. He's a shark that has scented blood and is now on the hunt.

The prickling bristles of his facial hair scratch against your temple. "This," the hand around your neck tightens, your rapid pulse now roaring in your ears, "is the best pussy I've ever had." His thrusts are jarring, make your teeth clack together hard enough to hurt, and after a dozen of them, he comes with a cruel bite to the junction of your shoulder, snarl animalistic.

Hopefully, the guys drove off a while ago otherwise you're re-dressing and driving home with that mask Simon tossed your way.

Your blouse is unfortunately beyond saving. Your skirt isn’t faring any better if that massive tear in the front has anything to say about it and your shoulder will require at least half a bottle of concealer plus a couple of bandaids, which the first aid kit is completely empty of. Not even the first aid guide is inside. 

You sluggishly begin to button up one of Simon's spare flannel shirts when he asks you if you're hungry.

"No." Not really. Hard to feel much when most of your nerves from the ribs down are shot.

"Get in the front, I'd like t'eat my dinner soon." He's staring right at the apex of your legs, your cunt still throbbing from the abuse."'m 'ungry." There’s no tow car sign on the street, actually, there’s not even a simple stop sign here. 

It better not get towed. You’re not paying a dime if it does.

(Are your feet still hurting or can he fuck those too? No? Next time, then.)

[lightsoutletsgo]

flowers are a language of their own — mv.1

pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 4.2k warnings:  slight angst

four times max gives you flowers and the first time you reciprocate, a childhood friends to lovers oneshot this is basically inspired by gwen and for gwen 😭 @verstappen-cult once again thanking you for my max brain rot bc these conversations are just DOING something to me skskksjsj but MWAH! I hope you like it my love 🤍 happy reading! mimi

i. daisies; new beginnings, innocence, cheerfulness (age 6) You hadn’t been at your new school very long, having moved to the town recently. You’d struggled with making new friends, the new language making things even more difficult. But this had really ruined your day. Your bottom lip jutted out and began to wobble as you looked at your drawing you’d spent the whole morning perfecting before tidy-up time. What had once been a beautiful explosion of scribbled crayon colours across one page now lay in two halves. It was more than your poor six year old brain could handle and so you immediately burst into tears. Wailing and sobbing, your teacher hurried over to see what the issue was. Between gasping inhales and snotty sobs you pointed to your crumpled torn drawing. She picked it up and turned to address the class of wild six year olds, “Alright class, does anybody know what happened to Y/N’s picture?” Your teacher’s voice was gentle, “You won’t be in trouble but our friend is very sad so we need to apologise and make it right okay?” Your bottom lip wobbled as your sniffles quietened a little and a small voice could be heard from the back of the classroom, “I didn’t mean to!” A small boy stepped forwards, bright blonde hair with blue eyes and you glared at him. He looked down at the floor as he awkwardly scuffed his shoe against the carpet. The teacher approached him and crouched down, “Thank you for being honest Max… Can you come and say sorry?” He nodded and took the teacher’s hand as she lead him over to you, “I’m sorry…” His apology was accented by a slight lisp and you frowned, arms crossing in front of your chest. “Thank you Max, Y/N? Max said it was an accident and that he’s sorry okay?” You let out a slight ‘hmmph’ as the teacher straightened up at the sound of the lunch bell. Max was quick to run out of the classroom with his friends but you plodded behind the group, still sad about your artwork. 

You grabbed your lunchbox from your locker and looked for a chair in the lunch hall. Spotting your favourite yellow chair you couldn’t help but gasp as your little legs headed over as fast as they could carry you. You sat down and opened your lunchbox, legs swinging under the table. You’d barely taken two bites of your sandwich before a boy approached the table. You looked up and saw Max standing there, his hands behind his back. “I’m sorry I broke your drawing.” Max did his best to speak so you’d understand.  “‘S fine.” You grumbled, annoyed he was talking to you. Six year old you could really hold a grudge… His cheeks tinted pink as he removed his hands from behind his back to hold out a small bunch of daisies he’d clearly picked from the playing field. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open. “Here, for you…” He took a step closer and you held your hand out for him to gently place the flowers in your palm. Your eyes looked at him and you noticed how his knees were slightly muddy and there was a streak of dirt on his cheek. You giggled and he beamed back at you, you suddenly felt very shy,

“D-do you want to sit here?” You patted the seat next to you, “We can eat lunch together?” Max nodded, racing off to grab his lunchbox. He dashed back and sat next to you, unzipping his lunchbag to compare the contents with yours. “Are we going to be friends Max?” He nodded enthusiastically, taking your hand in his, “Mhmm! Best friends Y/N! So you can call me Maxie!” 

ii. yellow amaryllis; pride, happiness, strength, determination (age 18) “Smile!” You stood with your friends, taking pictures in your graduation gowns and giggling together. But your heart panged, something - or rather someone - was missing from your day. Your eyes scanned the hall, desperately looking for a familiar blonde head. Despite knowing he was currently halfway round the world at a Grand Prix, “Boo!” A hand covered your eyes and a grin spread across your face at the familiar voice, “Maxie!” Turning around, you jumped into his arms and he laughed out loud, “Easy there bug!” You could hear your friends and family laughing and taking pictures of the two of you behind you but you still didn’t pull away, too embarrassed to let anyone see that you had tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it…” Max squeezed you a little tighter, “I left as soon as the race was over, there was no way I was missing this!” You pulled back and he wiped the tear that had slipped down your cheek. He let go of you and extended his arm towards you, holding out a beautiful bouquet of yellow amaryllis flowers, complete with yellow and white ribbons. 

“Max,” you gasped “they’re so beautiful!” he nudged your shoulder with his, “Hey, you deserve it. They stand for pride, strength, happiness and determination.” “Determination” You spoke at the same time, finishing the sentence together. His eyes stared at you so adoringly, you felt like you couldn’t catch your breath. The moment was broken by your parents urging you to stand together for a picture. “What a beautiful couple!” You heard a teacher say as they walked past, “Oh no we’re not-” “Me and him? No way-” Both you and Max spoke over each other, completely missing the knowing looks your friends and family all gave each other. You couldn’t help the fresh wave of giggles that overtook you as Max pulled you into his side. You could have sworn that for the briefest of seconds, butterflies took flight in your stomach but you quickly brushed it off, blaming it on the excitement of the day. 

iii. - yellow roses; friendship | bluebells; comfort (age 22) Max couldn’t deny the way that panic flashed through his entire body when he answered your call and heard nothing but your sobs on the other end. “Maxie!” You hiccuped, “Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?” He stood up, not caring that he was interrupting an important team meeting. His alarm grew even more when your only response was to cry even harder. He looked back at the group of people sat around the conference table, “I’m sorry but it’s a family emergency, I have to go.” He raced down the corridor and poked the elevator button far more times than was necessary. “Talk to me bug… I can’t help if you don’t explain what’s going on.” “He cheated Max! I went to his place and he was in bed with my roommate.” Max felt a weird combination of calm and anger wash over him at the same time. Calm because he knew you were safe and anger because who the fuck did your boyfriend, well ex-boyfriend, think he was? Fuck the elevator, Max headed for the stairs, wanting to get to his car and book a flight to you as soon as possible. “Oh Y/N…” “Said he only did it because he knew that I’d been cheating on him with you.” You heard Max scoff, “God he’s so fucking dumb Y/N… I never really liked him, you know that right? You’ve always been too good for him…” You heard Max sigh on the other end of the line and you curled up into an even smaller ball in your bed, pulling Max’s hoodie up even more as your nose inhaled the comforting scent of him, 

“Can we move to facetime? Just wanna see you.” You choked out and he obliged, quickly filling your request. Max felt his heart breaking as he looked at you in your bed. “Hey! Is that my hoodie, bug?” You nodded with a sniffle as he did his best to cheer you up even just a little, “Traitor! You told me you didn’t know where it had gone…” A watery smile spread across your face. “Look, I’m gonna come see you okay?” You sat upright and stared at him hard, “Max Emilian Verstappen, you cannot do that! You have important meetings this week.” “Ooo full name?” He hissed through his teeth, “I am in trouble.” You shook your head at him, “You’re incorrigible.” “Big words we’re using today hmm?” You flipped him off and he laughed, “I’ll be there soon, bug okay?” You nodded and he smiled at you once more, “Just hang in there for a little longer.” He ended the call and immediately your smile dropped. In those brief few seconds you’d forgotten why you’d even called him in the first place. But now in the quiet of your apartment, the sad feelings crept up once more, smothering you and dragging you down. 

You weren’t sure when you’d fallen asleep the night before, but the combination of the doorbell ringing and the knocking on the door jolted you awake. Rushing to the front door, you threw it open, still slightly disorientated from your rude awakening, “Hey bug.” “Maxie!” You felt wide awake staring at Max who now stood on your doorstep, a warm smile across his face. You immediately felt like bursting into tears once more and Max was quick to see that, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you as he rested his head on top of yours. “It’s okay bug,” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “I got you.” He waddled with you in his arms, through your doorway and into the hallway to close the door and give you some privacy. As he held you, he felt his heart race a little, thinking how he would never make you or let you cry like that if you were his girl - wait what? Now was not the time to be thinking about those kinds of things! Max held you until your sobbing had quietened down again, “Sorry,” you sniffed all snotty and he just poked your nose and laughed gently, “It’s okay Y/N.” His hand gently rubbed your arm as he watched you take a few deep breaths to compose yourself, “Here.” He pulled a somewhat squished bouquet of flowers out of what seemed like nowhere, “Sorry, they got a little uhhh… too involved in the hug?” You let out a breath of laughter and took them from him, a finger gently tracing the petals, “Yellow roses? For friendship right?” Max nodded with a smile, “Yellow roses, because I’m always gonna be your best friend who has your back and bluebells because they’re comforting.” You couldn’t help the way your heart clenched hearing his words. It seemed that Max not only bought you flowers often but he even thought of the meaning of what he was buying. For some reason, the thought had those pesky flutters appearing in your stomach but you quickly reprimanded yourself and shook them off. You hadn’t even broken up with your ex for more than 24 hours yet, but here you were thinking about Max romantically? You shook your head, that was a line you could never think of crossing, no matter how much it seemed to be crossing your mind more and more the older you got. 

iv. pink tulips; perfect love, affection (now) Now that you were living in Monaco, not too far from Max, movie nights were a common occurrence, with evenings being split between your apartment and his. Food would be ordered and wine would be drunk, movies would be played but barely watched as the two of you would end up talking into the night and continue long after the credits had finished rolling. If there was one thing you could count on Max for, it was his promptness and so when the clock read seven o’clock exactly, you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before you heard his footsteps down the hallway to your apartment. You were proven correct as Max let himself into your apartment, calling out as he did so, “Hey bug! It’s just me!” “In the living room!” You called back, smiling as he appeared in the doorway, holding something behind his back, “What have you got there hmm?” Max’s smile wavered for a second and you frowned, sitting up on the couch, “Max?” He exhaled and bit his lip nervously, “Maxie?” You tried again much more softly, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, “I’m about to say something and…” He sighed, “I just want you to let me finish okay?” You nodded confused as he came to sit next to you, holding out a bouquet of pink tulips as he did so. You felt yourself gasp as you stared at the flowers, admiring the pretty wrapping and how the ribbon matched the flowers. You wracked your brain as you stared, desperately trying to recall the meaning, Max always gave flowers with meaning. Appreciation? No, apology? Nope not that... No. It couldn’t be? Could it? “Affection?” You didn’t even realise you’d spoken the word out loud but a sharp inhale from Max was enough to tell you he’d heard you. Your eyes shot up to his face and noticed he wouldn’t even look at you, instead choosing to gently trace over the bouquet ribbon, “Yes.” His cheeks were pink and you could have sworn you stopped breathing. It was silent in your apartment. The only noise coming from the traffic outside and the thump of your neighbour as their work boots clunked over the floor before their door slammed. The noise pulled you out of your silence as you stared at Max, “What did you just say?” Max finally dared to look up as he gazed into your eyes, “Pink tulips, affection, perfect l…” “Perfect what?” There was no way he was going to say what you thought he was going to say… “Perfect love.” You stood up from the couch, immediately pacing back and forth as your hands started to fumble together, “Max…” You breathed, finally stopping to look at him sat staring at you. “Okay so this is the part where I need you to listen…” You let out a laugh of disbelief but said nothing as he swallowed, hands nervously rubbing the legs of his jeans. “I like you.” You froze as he continued, “I like you and I think I honestly have for a while… I know that this might not be the best time to tell you but I just can’t keep kidding myself anymore. The feelings I have for you? They’re not things I would be feeling if you were just a best friend to me Y/N. God I think I always knew it was you… From the day I ruined your drawing and then when I surprised you at your graduation… And then that horrific breakup,” You both winced, “I swore then that I would never let you cry over another man like that again. Because I wanted to be the only man that you had from then on.” Your lips parted as a nervous exhale left you. He stopped his rambling, panting slightly as he looked at you, “If you have anything to say, now would be a good time to say it…” You looked at him. Max, your Max. The boy that had been there for you through everything, your best friend.

“No…” You whispered out, your own heart breaking at your words, “I can’t…” Max looked absolutely crushed, “No?” His voice was quiet, “Why?” You shrugged, bottom lip trembling, “I can’t risk losing you.” Max scoffed, “Losing me?” “What if we break up hmm? You’re telling me we would be able to go back to being best friends like nothing ever happened? What if it doesn’t work hmm?” Max shook his head as your spoke, “You think I would say this to you if I didn’t think it would work?” “I-I… I don’t know!” You exclaimed as Max stood up, “You won’t even try?” “I’m too scared to Max…” He nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets as you stared at him, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered, “Me too.” he said before turning and walking out. The door hadn’t even closed behind him before you’d collapsed to the floor, your legs giving out. You’d never cried so hard because of him before. Not when he’d ripped your drawing, not when he'd surprised you at graduation, not even when he’d held you after your breakup. 

You stared at the pink tulips as they lay on your couch, their bright happy hopeful colour taunting you. You stalked over to them and picked them up, heading straight to the trash, pulling your arm back to throw them away but you found yourself physically unable to do it. 

i. flowers are a language of their own You weren’t sure whether it was convenient or not that Max had a double header after that conversation. Usually you would spam him while he was away and he would pick things up when he could. Often late at night in his hotel bed, a goofy grin plastered across his face as he opened your fit pics and food diary pics of the day, reading through your spam about work, friends and cute cats you’d spotted on the street.

But this time there had been nothing. From either of you. It had been strange and hurtful. You sighed as you checked your phone again for the millionth time that day, already knowing there would be no new notifications from him. Why would there be? The guy you liked had confessed to you and you’d broken his heart because you were too scared he’d break yours. Groaning you dropped your head to the kitchen counter, thumping your forehead against it a few times in the hope of gaining some sense of clarity. It didn’t work. You sighed and stood up straight. You were still kicking yourself for shutting him down so quickly. Yes, he was your Maxie, your best friend, but wasn’t that the point? He knew you so well, he cared for you and loved you, in whatever capacity. He would never intentionally hurt you. You couldn’t lie to yourself, there had been a continuous pull in your stomach and a slight ache in your chest the longer you went without talking to him. You knew if you could do the situation over again you would give a completely different answer. You didn’t want him to break your heart but now you had lost him completely. 

Your head shot up as a plan began to form in your head. Grabbing your phone you looked up plane tickets for the country you knew Max was in at the moment. You knew things would be tricky without his help and you didn’t even know if it would work out, but for him you had to try. Selecting your seat you rushed to pack a bag, noticing how the now dry and dead tulips still lay on your bedroom vanity, the pink now much less vibrant and tinged with brown. Your stomach flipped and you hoped to god it would all work out. You knew which hotel the team usually stayed at when they were racing in that specific country and so after making a quick stop you headed straight there, planning to just wait until you were spotted by someone from the team who recognised you and took pity on you. You didn’t have to wait long as one of Max’s race engineers was exiting the building just as your taxi pulled up. Clambering out of the vehicle as you spotted him, he smiled and waved, “Hey! Didn’t know you were coming this weekend? Max usually says something.” “Ah,” you shuffled awkwardly, not wanting to give anything away about your strained relationship, “it’s a surprise!” His eyes widened and he grinned at you knowingly, especially when he spotted what you carried in your arms. “Well… Seeing as it’s you, I’ll give you his room number.” After obtaining the information you needed you thanked him and headed inside, getting on the elevator and pressing the button for his floor as you thanked whatever higher powers there were that so far the plan was working. As the bell dinged for your floor you gulped, a whole new wave of nerves and anxiety washing over you. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he got angry with you and sent you away? But what if he heard you out? Oh crap, what were you gonna say? 

Through your internal rambling, you had somehow managed to walk to his door and now you stood frozen. Unable to knock and unable to move. Swallowing the lump in your throat you knocked the door gently. You heard a crash and then a curse in Dutch came from inside and you winced. Oh god, if he was already in a bad mood… This wouldn’t help. The door swung open and a tired looking Max stood there. Dressed in cosy sweatpants and navy hoodie, no logos in sight but still fitting his team colours. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in front of him.  “Y/N?” You gave the softest of smiles nervously, “Hi Maxie.”

You weren’t sure what you’d expected when you saw him. You’d thought about how he might yell or cry or get mad or slam the door in your face but you certainly hadn’t expected him to grab your arms and pull you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, “Fuck, I missed you so much I’m so sorry…” You sniffled, pulling back and looking at him, “Why are you sorry?! I’m sorry! I never should have doubted you-” “I never should have pressured you-” “You didn’t! I never should have jumped to conclusions about how things would end. God. It’s been so miserable without you…” You noticed his eyes growing tearful. “Here, come in.” He gently pulled you into the room and closed the door behind you. Your eyes swept the room and zeroed in on an object on his bed, “Is that my t-shirt?” You asked incredulously, mouth gaping at him slightly as he rushed to shove it in his suitcase, “N-no!” “Max Emilian…” Your voice was low, “M-maybe…” You gave him a pointed stare and he relented, “Okay yes fine it is.” He sighed, “I found it at my apartment that night when I got back and… I just… I didn’t have you and it was the closest thing…” He trailed off, sitting on the bed. You padded across the room to take a seat next to him, one hand gently rubbing his back, “I know Maxie… Me too.” His head rested on your shoulder and you inhaled shakily, it was now or never. 

You looked back across the room at where your things lay in the entrance. You stood up and made your way over, picking up what you needed before turning back to him with your arms behind your back. “I’m about to say something…” His head shot up to look at you, “and I need you to let me finish.” You gave him a tearful smile and he swore he felt his breathing quicken as you practically echoed his words from a few weeks ago. You approached him and offered him the bouquet from behind your back. He stared at it for a moment before his eyes flicked up to look at yours.

“Red roses?” You nodded, unable to keep looking at him - partly shy and partly terrified of his answer, until he gently held your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze once more, “Red roses.” “You know what they mean don’t you?” “I picked them for a reason.” He stood up and gently took them from you, one hand sliding round your waist to pull you into him, “Baby’s breath?” “Baby’s breath.” You looked down, breathing your answer as his face got closer to yours. “Is this your speech then?” You let out a breath, “I figured I would let the flowers speak for themselves, god knows you’ve been doing it long enough.”

His lips were practically on yours and it took everything in you to keep standing as his next words were brushed against your lips, “Is this your answer then?” You nodded, “No schat, please… Let me hear you say it…” His eyes closed as he felt your shuddering breath, “Yes, Max. Yes, I want to try with you, I love you and that’s enough to tell me we should try-” Any further words you had were cut off by Max’s lips meeting yours. His grip around your waist tightened, the flowers sliding from his other hand to the floor as he gently cupped your face, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheek. You couldn’t help the way you smiled against his lips and he laughed at the feeling, the two of you giggling and grinning between kisses like the lovesick idiots you were. 

Red roses; declaration of love, Baby’s breath; eternal love.   

[whambamsami]

red velvet

my fist ever fic! hope you like it :) not really sure how this site works yet so so sorry if anything is formatted incorrectly!

Summary:

Bucky's found solace in a seductive jazz speakeasy, a perfect escape for whenever he isn't busy saving the world. But there's a new band performing tonight, and the lead singer has him questioning everything he knows about being a gentleman.

Warnings: no warnings! but if i ever do another part to this, i will be adding many warnings lol

Bucky Barnes was not known for his social aptitude. 

Maybe that’s why he took to this specific place so much.

The Red Fox, a small Italian restaurant owned by a darling elderly man, was tucked away in a cobblestone alley, a whisper in a city that screamed. Despite the incredible tiramisu, it didn’t garner much attention. 

That is, from those who didn’t know any better.

Lurking just below, hidden behind a brass door and a set of stairs that would creak with age, had it not been for the red plush carpet that swallowed any unwanted sounds, was The Red Fox’s best kept secret; L’Affare. 

Dark walnut paneling and the permanent smell of cigars clung to the deep crimson velvet curtains draped around the place kept any sunlight- or wandering eyes- at bay. Leather banquettes hugged the walls like old lovers, and a curved mahogany bar anchored the room, the glistening glass of amaro, vermouth, and top-shelf gin winking at patrons like crown jewels. Customers spoke almost only in whispers, and laughed almost only with too many teeth.

People who knew L’Affare knew better than to run their mouths about the happenings of such a place. 

Which made it the perfect spot for individuals who preferred a bit of discretion to accompany them on a night out. 

This, in turn, attracted a wide variety of guests. 

Including the Avengers. 

Natasha and Clint were the first to stumble upon L’Affare, having followed a group of men who were believed to be involved the mob down the stairs, and were enticed to stay for the near-perfect cocktails and the comfort brought by the tight-lipped staff who moved as if two of the Avengers drinking at their bar was a common, if not boring, occurrence. 

Soon, the rest of the team learned of the safe haven beneath the Red Fox, and couldn’t resist a chance to experience the normalcy brought about by its tact. 

So, when Steve told Bucky about a little place that he could get an Old Fashioned without the all stares and all the questions that made even remedial tasks like grocery shopping a nightmare, he gladly took him up on the offer. 

They became a bit like regulars, always making sure to give a friendly nod to the unassuming staff upstairs before descending into the hazy slice of paradise that was nestled under the busy street above. 

Not only did L’Affare have bartenders that knew how to make a mean drink, the comforting yet seductive ambiance of the speakeasy lulled both Bucky and Steve into a comforting familiarity, reminiscent of their time before the war. Every Friday and Saturday that wasn’t taken up by work, they’d be nestled in a corner, telling old tales and chuckling between themselves. Sometimes others would join, Sam usually, but Bucky and Steve were L’Affare’s most frequent customers. 

This Friday night was like no other. Steve and Bucky had returned from a mission earlier that day, and both were itching to return to their routine. Once they had rested a bit and showered off all the sweat, grime, and fluid that had accumulated on their bodies throughout the job, they happily made their way to their favorite secret spot. 

Both men, enhanced and thus unnaturally giant, had to duck to fit under the brass door as they plod their way down to the familiar bar. 

Tonight, however, they noticed a stark difference in L’Affare’s usual appearance.

The smaller seats and tables that typically sat in the center of the room had been pushed aside, replaced by a small stage, crafted by what looked to be the same wood used for the bar. 

Bucky and Steve exchanged glances before making their way to sit at the bar, the weight of both of them plopping down enough to cause the martini glasses hanging overhead to clink together like glittering crystal windchimes. The bartender, who had served them many times, made his way over to the two men, cleaning his cocktail shaker and nodding politely at them, both in polite acknowledgement and to question what they’d like to drink. 

Steve orders a single, aged, well-aged scotch. Bucky sticks with a simple Tiger Beer, ever the simple man. 

Once the older gentleman serves them their drinks, he moves to give them a bit of space, but Steve motions for him to stay.

“Would you happen to know what’s going on tonight? With the stage and all?” he asks, gesturing to the center of the room behind him.

The man nods politely. “Boss hired a band for tonight. They’re supposed to be real good.”

Steve nods appreciatively, ever the gentleman, as the bartender returns to the other side of the bar, topping off the gin and tonics of the older, oily pair of men in inky black suits, unbuttoned far too much for their age. 

“Band, hm? Sounds sort of fun” Steve says to Bucky between sips. 

Bucky nods. 

“Hopefully nothing too loud” he replies gruffly, a small smile betraying his interest. 

The pair chat for a bit, the day slipping away, and soon the lights of L’Affare are dimming even more than usual, the typical amber glow lower than before. 

The crowd hushes in anticipation. 

Silhouettes were the only hint to what was happening on stage. A group of men who Bucky assumed to be a band were further back on the left side, where three womanly silhouettes were tucked away to the right in uniform fashion. A single figure stood front and center of the stage that drew Bucky’s eye the most. Legs that he could only assume were lengthened by heels led his gaze up to delicious hips and-

Before he could fully register what was in front of him, the sound of a low, lazy saxophone began, curling under his chin and beckoning him closer. The lights flicked on, with a single spotlight illuminating the figure that had caught his attention earlier. 

Bucky gulped. 

All of the women on stage, both the three backup singers and the lead, were in ruby colored silky gowns, like they had emerged from the velvet and leather that adorned much of the rest of the bar. But no one wore it like the main singer, who just filled it out so nicely. 

And then she started singing. 

The second she opened her plush lips, smiling like she knew something Bucky didn’t, he involuntarily tightened his grip, silently thanking God that his vibranium hand was grasping the stool and not the glass of the beer can. 

She wasn’t loud. Didn’t need to be. Honestly, Bucky thought to himself, she didn’t even need to sing, for all he cared, that was how drop-dead gorgeous she was. She purred into the vintage-looking microphone, her dark painted nails glinting as she caressed it, pulling it closer to her lip gloss-coated mouth. 

What Bucky would give to be that microphone. 

Her voice was beyond sweet, like honey poured over a blade. She swayed her hips, Jesus, those hips, softly to the music, and Bucky wouldn’t look away. Couldn’t. He sat there, stupidly, staring up at her like she was something religious, something sacreligious, god, he could care less. All he knew was that she was glowing. 

Steve turned to Bucky, wanting to see his thoughts of the performance so far, and smiled smugly when he took in his friend’s expression. 

“Might want to close your mouth, Bucky. Unless you’re gonna take a sip, or make this a duet” he jests, nudging Bucky playfully. 

Bucky snapped his mouth shut, stopping whatever retort he surely would have thrown to Steve if he was at all mentally available for their typical back-and-forth, his eyes darting to the forgotten beer in his hand. He took a heavy swig before returning to stare at the woman onstage that was quickly making him feel much drunker than he was. 

The band stuck mostly with classics from the Rat Pack, some Peggy Lee thrown in here and there. No one in the room could look away. The lead singer was absolutely hypnotic. 

Song after song, and Bucky didn’t think he’d blinked even once. He didn’t want to miss a second. 

After the band finished up a lovely rendition of Gentle On My Mind, the lead singer leaned in to speak, not sing, for the first time all evening. 

“Thank you all for being such a wonderful audience. We’ve got time for one more, so I hope you won’t mind if we do one of my favorites!”

God, her regular voice was just as enticing. Was that even possible? 

Bucky didn’t have long to consider that until the band was striking up again, ending the night with a killer performance of Cross Over The Bridge. 

Still, he sat at the bar, unmoving, beer untouched in his hand, lips slightly parted, unable to look away.

And finally, finally, the lead singer’s twinkling eyes locked with his as she sang and swayed, that same smile still gleaming out to the crowd, except now, it was gleaming right at Bucky. 

It felt like someone had ripped his chest open and was squeezing his heart. Was this a heart attack? Was he dying? 

He managed to compose himself enough to give her a smile back, his eyes still hazy from whatever godforsaken witchcraft she had used on him. She was too far away, he hoped, to see just how much she had affected him.

Soon, much to Bucky’s dismay, the song ended. She stood and thanked the crowd as they applauded (Bucky by far the loudest, which Steve found very entertaining) and the band cleared the stage, disappearing behind a wall of velvet. Bucky could breathe again. Much to his dismay. 

“You liked it that much, huh?” Steve asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

Bucky didn’t even have the strength to feign disinterest. 

“Did you see her? The lead singer? I think she looked at me.” He does his best to mask just how excited he felt at the possibility, but Steve had known him far too long to let him get away with playing coy.

“Oh, she looked at you, alright. You should have said something. Ask her out, maybe.” “Said something? And interrupt? Plus, if she isn’t interested, we run the risk of having to find another bar that won’t make us take a picture for their wall.” Bucky huffs, clearly torn by his intense attraction and mild fear of rejection. 

Steve put his palms out in surrender. “Fair enough. Just… haven't seen you that excited about a girl since the 1940’s. Plus, we already know you guys have similar taste in music” he jokes, finishing off his second scotch. 

Bucky can’t stop a half-smile from forming on his stubble-covered face. He likes the idea that they would have things in common, that they do have things in common. 

It takes a second for him to respond. 

“...Hypothetically…”

“Hypothetically?” Steve questions.

“If I were to consider saying something, what would I say? Hypothetically, of course.”

Steve paused to consider.

“I hate to say this, but you’re asking the wrong guy. I never exactly learned how to pick up women. But we should definitely use our resources here.”

“Use our resources” Bucky asks, tilting his head a bit. Interested. Confused, but interested.

Steve pulls out his phone, a more modern version than his previous flip phone, but still definitely outdated. 

“Hmm… definitely not Tony… maybe Sam? No… Oh! Got it.” 

Bucky waits for him to finish the text, looking expectantly. 

Steve turns to face him, grinning, clearly proud of his quick thinking. 

“So, who’d you ask?”

“Natasha.”

“Natasha?” Bucky furrows his brow involuntarily. As much as he’s grown to be close friends with her, he’d still like to keep this under wraps as much as possible, to minimize potential embarrassment. 

Before Steve can say anything, his phone lights up. Natasha’s ID pops up. The two lock eyes before Steve answers.

“Nat, hey! Did you see my text? Figured we could use a woman's opinion.”

“Good idea, Rogers” her voice comes through a bit fuzzy. She’s definitely out as well, in some other hidden pocket of New York City, eager to blow off a bit of steam after the work she’d put in this week.

“So, what do we know about her so far? What kind of interactions have you guys had?” Natasha inquires.

Bucky and Steve pause for a beat.

“...Well… we haven’t really gone farther than eye contact so far.”

Nat matches their moment of silence. 

“Hm.”

“...Yeah.”

“Okay, well, you’re at a bar, aren’t you? Why don’t you buy her a-”

She’s cut off by the bartender appearing in front of the two supersoldiers. He drops two clear shots off in front of them, doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. 

“Sorry, sir, we didn’t order-” Steve begins.

“They were sent by the band, sir. It’s vodka. Top shelf. Enjoy.” 

And he’s gone again, retreating to the dark corner from which he came. 

Bucky and Steve share a bewildered look. They were no strangers to free drinks, of course. 

But this was from the band. 

Slowly, they do their best to see through the smoke and darkness that shrouds the far corner that usually allows the bartenders to melt into the background. And there, nursing martinis, are the ladies in red who had just graced the stage, smiling sweetly, raising their glasses in appreciation to the two heroes that sat across from them. 

Nat’s voice breaks their silence.

“Was that what I thought it was?”

Bucky is quick to interject. 

“Thanks, Nat, really, but I think we’ve got it from here.” He hangs up, and looks at Steve, a bit of a wild look in his eyes.

Steve smiles. 

“Guess we found our excuse to go talk to them, huh?”

Bucky doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes both shots, ignoring the burn of the liquor as it pours down his throat. 

Steve’s eyes widen a bit, surprised by his friend’s sudden actions, but he’s never been one to get in Bucky’s way. 

“You alright, Buck?”

Bucky’s breathing has noticeably picked up, his eyes still a bit wide. But he smiles. 

“Better than alright. I’m going over there. Would be ungentlemanly not to thank them, wouldn’t it?”

Steve chuckles. 

“Fair enough. But I got dibs on the cute backup singer.”

They head over, Steve putting a gentle hand on Bucky’s broad shoulder to slow him to a normal pace. 

“Easy, big guy. Those shots were from the band, not just your favorite singer. They could be from the saxophone player for all we know.” 

They don’t need to announce themselves, usually, due to their large presence, both physically and metaphorically. All four of the women turn when the men approach, easy smiles on both their faces.

“We just wanted to thank you ladies for the shots. You were all great up there.” Steve begins, addressing the group. Bucky can only look at her. 

How can she be even prettier off the stage? 

She’s smaller than he thought. Being on stage makes people look a bit taller, he guesses, but now that she’s perched on a barstool, he looms over her. He smiles politely, praying he looks at the very least like someone close to sanity. His enhanced senses are absolutely drowning in her sweet vanilla perfume. He can see that she used a bit of… what was that, body glitter? Maybe an oil? Something shiny that draws his attention to her delicate collarbones, and then lower, lower… 

His mother would absolutely murder him if she saw him acting so improperly. He collects himself and smiles, nodding after Steve. “Yeah, you were... You were all great up there, really.”

The women smile politely, thanking them.

One of the backup singers, her dark curly hair cut short in a pixie cut, speaks first. 

“Don’t be too thankful for those shots! We drink for free on the nights we sing” She jokes. 

The two men laugh. 

“Guess we better stick close to you tonight then” Bucky jokes back, eyes unintentionally flitting to the lead singer. 

She smiles warmly. 

At him.

“If you know what’s good for you, you sure will.” She teases lightly. 

Bucky thinks he might die. 

Was she flirting? Just joking with them to be polite? Bucky didn’t even care, he only cared that she was talking. Talking to him. 

Or, talking to a group that he was a part of. It didn’t matter to him. 

“Aw, you’re too kind, doll.” He subtly shifts a bit closer to her, fighting his instincts to turn her away from the group, so it can be just the two of them. “You don't have to share with us.” He’s joking, but there’s something genuine behind us. He’s giving her an out. 

“No, no! Please. It’s the least we could do for you boys.” She beams, her smile so dazzling it nearly knocks Bucky on his ass. 

“Really, you two are heroes” another backup singer, the one with long, caramel braids flowing down her back, gushes at them, sipping her martini shyly. 

Bucky and Steve both rub their necks bashfully.

“You flatter us. We should be getting your drinks after that show tonight. But, if you drink for free…” Steve leaves his sentence open ended, a cheeky smile adorning his bearded face. 

Speaking of, the bartender returns with a chilled bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice, paired with a large platter of oysters. 

“Good timing, you two. We can’t finish all this on our own!”, the first backup vocalist, the one who looks a bit like Betty Boop, looks expectantly at Steve and Bucky. 

The two men don’t take much convincing before they pull up seats, each on either end of the group of women. Bucky sits next to his lead singer. They must look ridiculous next to each other, he thinks to himself, as he absolutely dwarfs her. He hopes she doesn’t mind, she’s such a tiny little thing…. 

“So… you like older music? Or, do you only like it when you’re paid to?” He inquires, desperate to speak to her about something. Anything. 

She laughs softly, and oh, god, if he liked her voice, her laugh is just… something else entirely. He’d like to make her laugh forever, he thinks, or at least for the rest of the night. As long as she’ll let him. 

“Oh, I love it! My dad raised me mostly on Frank Sinatra, so anything he’s been near, I’m a pretty big fan of.” 

“Frank, huh? I think I have just about all of his records.”

“No way! I’ve been collecting some of his! I just found a really great Dean Martin one, actually…”

The conversation continued with ease, the only discomfort came from whenever Bucky would have to wrench his gaze away from her lips before she caught on. The bar was closing soon, and even though the band typically is allowed to stay late, all pretty exhausted. Steve, Bucky, and the band all head out together. Bucky thinks he overhears Steve asking for one of the backup singers’ number, the one who looks like Betty Boop, he thinks to himself. It dawns on him that the night is coming to an end. 

“Hey, doll?”

“Hmm?”

She turns to face him, the red glow of the signs in the window illuminating her beautifully. Bucky’s breath catches, but he clears his throat. 

“Let me walk you home.”

“Oh, really, Bucky, you don’t have to-”

“It’s not safe for a lady to be walking alone at night-”

Her giggle, her adorable giggle, cuts him off. 

“I was going to say you don’t have to because I was going to Uber”, she says through a smile.

He falters for a split second.

“...A car, alone, with a strange man? That’s worse!”

“So your solution is that I walk home in the dark, alone, with a strange man?” She counters playfully.

He laughs, surprised.

“A strange Avenger, thank you very much. It’s practically in the job description at this point.”

She rolls her eyes, the discrete tug on the corner of her mouth betraying her as she counters.

“Oh, so you walk women home all the time, then?”

He lets himself feel a bit more confident than usual, mentally blaming the champagne as he leans in closer to whisper, “Only the special ones…”, a daring smile, one that he hadn’t worn since before HYDRA,  breaking across his usually broody demeanor. 

He swears once he gets closer that he can see the tiniest bloom of rosy blush start to form on her cheeks. 

Maybe it’s the cold of the night air. It could be the alcohol as well. But Bucky doesn’t care. Because for the first time in the past 70 years of his life, he feels like himself, like he felt before the war. 

He’ll be damned if he lets the woman that brought him back to that feeling Uber home. 

“C’mon. You said you live on 6th, right? It’s a nice walk that way. Plus, I have a surprise…”

“A surprise? It’s not like, a knife, right? Or a sex dungeon?” she teases, letting him softly lead her across the street, his vibranium hand cool through the thin fabric of her dress, as he gently moves her to the side of the street furthest from the road.

He laughs, surprised at her bold joke. 

“A sex dungeon?” he laughs, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over her small shoulders. The jacket was comically huge on her, practically brushing her knees, but he’d rather her dress be a bit hidden as opposed to her catching a cold. 

“You aren’t denying it!” She quips, trying her best to ignore the warmth his jacket brings her, his cologne filling her nose as she inhales on instinct. Pine overtakes her senses, and… mint, maybe? His toothpaste, perhaps, or a mint he’d popped in before the walk. She wonders if he’d taste like it.

He chuckles, the sound snapping her out of her thoughts, as he returns her teasing smile with a gentle nudge, quickly returning his hand to rest on her waist. Not too low, not too high. His mother would be proud. 

“Well, that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?”

“Bucky!” she squeals in surprise, swatting his broad chest, making him break out into laughter as well. 

They make their way, nearing her apartment, when he pulls her across the street, toward a dimly lit storefront. The LED ‘Closed’ sign hanging in the glass display window emitted the only light, spare the streetlamps. 

“Bucky, are you sure this is the place you’re thinking of? Looks extremely closed to me..” she muses, pointing helpfully to the sign in the window. 

He grins. “Don’t you trust me, doll?”, and he places one hand on the doorknob, outstretching the other for her to take.

She narrows her eyes, placing her small, warm hand in his cool metal one. “Not really, no…” she mutters, half serious.

He closes her hand and effortlessly pulls her into the building. The lights, which must be motion-activated, she cleverly deducts, flicker alive, illuminating the room to reveal a cozy, but empty Italian bakery. 

Her mouth falls open, taking in the perfectly decorated pastries that sat tauntingly in the display case. Rainbow cookies, cream puffs, varying cannolis… and she was starving. Those oysters from earlier were long forgotten. 

“Wow… okay, breaking and entering is definitely a great surprise, but are you sure we’re allowed to-?” 

He holds up a hand, still smiling knowingly, and points to the hallway.

Sure enough, a short, portly man emerges. At first, he looks a bit irritated to be bothered at such an hour, but when he sees Bucky’s face, he lights up. 

“Ah, James!” he exclaims, throwing his arms out to wrap Bucky in a hug.

James?

Bucky smiles, a bit red in the face. He introduces the singer as his date for the evening (which, in turn, makes her a bit more red than Bucky). He quickly explains that the man, Sal, owned the bakery, which, despite the sign outside, was actually open 24 hours to friends and family. 

“Friends and family, hmm? Which are you, then?” She muses, trying to see if there are any physical similarities between the two.

“Oh, James is a friend, but he’s basically family at this point.” the cheery old man explains, wrapping her in a friendly hug as well. “And any friend of James is a friend of mine! Come, take whatever you’d like. On the house.”

She turns to Bucky. “On the house, huh?”

He shrugs, the sheepish action not matching his wolflike grin.

“You’re not the only one with connections, you know.”

He looms behind her, bending a bit to be closer to her ear while they peruse the baked goods.

“You’re one cheap date, you know that?”

He snorts at her comment. 

“Yeah, yeah. I hope you’re fine with an Italian bakery, I took a gamble because of the restaurant you sing for, so…”

“Oh, no, I love it! You picked great, Bucky, this is an amazing surprise. You’ll have to help me choose, though… there’s so many options, and if you’ve already been here, I’d love any recommendations you might have.”

He straightens a bit, feeling pride at his ability to steer her in the right direction. They select a few cannolis and are on their way, waving happily with goodies in tow. 

As they cross the street, finishing up the cannolis (best in the city, Sal promised, and he definitely delivered. They were some of the best you’d ever had), she spoke through bites. 

“So… James, huh?”

He smiles a bit. 

“Yeah, James. You didn’t think my actual name was Bucky, did you?”

They laugh, a sense of familiarity enveloping them both as they stroll. Bucky found the confidence to drape an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close as they crossed the street to her apartment. 

For safety, he thought to himself. Just for safety. 

When they arrived under the awning under her apartment, they both paused. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. She glanced away, wary. 

She broke the silence. 

“Thank you for walking me home! And for the cannolis. Sal wasn’t kidding, these are incredible, really.” 

“I’m really glad you liked them. And I’ve said it a million times tonight, but you were incredible on stage. Thank you for letting me walk you home, I had a great time…”

He stepped a bit back, preparing to head off, refusing to overstay his welcome. A small flash of something crossed her eyes. What was it? Disappointment? 

Bucky was screaming at himself to ask for her number, for something, anything, that might result in the continuation of tonight. But his gentlemanly ways demanded that he not push his luck. 

“Well, goodnight, doll.” 

He turned, and made it a single step, cursing himself mentally. 

“Bucky?” she called, nerves plaguing her voice.

He turned to see her, hands clasped to stop herself from doing anything too rash, eyes a bit wider than before.

“...Think you’ll come see us again? The band, I mean?”

Her voice was shy, the shyest he’d heard it all night. Maybe she just wanted to secure customers for the bar, to make sure that her band would be asked back if patrons wanted to see them perform. But Bucky didn’t care. He knew, or he hoped he knew, that this was her masked way of asking to see him again, her thinly veiled questioning of if tonight had gone well, if he was.. Interested.

God, was he interested. 

Was that not how he had come off? 

Well, he can’t have that. 

He stepped closer, gauging her reaction. 

“Oh, definitely. I’d love to see you again.”

Another step. His icy blue eyes darkened in the light, pupils blown wide, raking across her face. 

The blush on her cheeks from earlier had returned. He could write that off as the alcohol, hell, even as makeup. 

But his enhanced senses picked up on other things. 

Like her heartbeat. Pounding in her chest. Yeah, that had absolutely accelerated when he stepped closer.

So he took another, testing the waters. 

“The band, I mean. I wouldn’t miss a show.”

And her heart rate definitely picked up a bit. Was he imagining it?

Her lips parted softly, her words coming out a bit breathy.

“Yeah? You liked the show?”

He could be imagining it, he told himself. He refused to misread this, to blow this opportunity. He would go as slowly as she wanted, until the end of time, if she asked him, if she only let him. 

But he had to see. He had to see if she’d even give him the chance, if he could get away with even just a little flirting, his night would be made, that’s all he needs…

“Oh, I loved it. Good music, great band. And, between me and you, I definitely have a thing for the lead singer.”

His words were playful. His eyes were anything but.

And he took one more step. Close enough to touch. He lifted his arm, the same one that was draped over her mere minutes ago, subtly, to graze her hand with his. Staring down at her, barely constraining himself for just scooping her up in his arms and shoving her against the steel of the elevator in her apartment, and showing her, really showing her just how bad he wanted her, how good he could make her feel, how many times he could make her- 

Her scent was intoxicating, so much so that he could barely think straight. He had been a perfect gentleman thus far (at least in action), and he would be damned if he blew it at the finish line. 

Until she glanced down at his lips. 

It was so fast he almost missed it. 

But nothing gets past Bucky Barnes. 

It was like he could feel a dam break inside him, his resolve slipping fast. 

He let his metal arm wrap around her waist, pulling her body flush against his, slowly. So slowly it was killing him, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He dipped his head down gently, their noses touching, just barely. 

“Can I kiss you, doll?” he murmurs, and if she says no, he thinks, he’ll politely accept, bid her goodnight, and then go run into the nearest busy street he could find. It was New York City, after all, it shouldn't take too long. 

She smiles sweetly, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she stands on her tippy toes, drawing him a bit closer as she wraps her arms around his neck, their lips ghosting each other.

Fuck it. 

He finally makes his move, gently pressing his lips to hers. It’s slow and gentle, like the whole night has been. She tastes impossibly sweet, like cannolis and champagne. He tastes like sharp mint, she thinks to herself, like she thought he would. She’s soft, so soft and small and warm in his big arms, her hair and lips and body so welcoming, drawing him in, his mind firing in a run-on sentence of more, more, more. 

Quickly, very quickly, he’s getting lost in the kiss. 

Too quickly.

His concepts of chivalry are dissolving in front of him as she melts into him. He keeps one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him, as he snakes the other around the back of her neck, deepening their embrace. She gasps softly into him, and fuck, that does it. 

He’s tried to resist, he really has, but when he hears that pretty noise, when he feels her body react to him, he pulls back without thinking and brings his lips to her jaw, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses trailing down to her collarbone.

Whatever lotion or perfume she put on earlier must be laced with nicotine, because it was seriously egging him on. 

Acting purely on instinct, his hand trails from behind her neck, down her waist, and slowly back up again, softly cupping her breast, drawing a gentle moan from her kiss-puckered lips. 

The sound goes straight through him, but also serves to snap him out of his trance. He realizes quickly what he’s doing, and straightens, absolutely mortified with himself.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to let it go that far, I’d really like to get to know you more, and take you out properly, I just got carried away-”

He rambles frantically, horrified that he might have lost his one chance with her, until she cuts him off.

“Bucky.”

“...yeah?” he answers tentatively.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

[mountttmase]

See You Soon

Note - coming to you slightly earlier than scheduled as I suddenly have a social life but I hope you enjoy this. I like to think of this as a colab between myself and @saltyheartnightmare and it was her original idea to use the TikTok I found for this. I hope you guys like it and feedback is always appreciated 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 7.8k

Warnings - fluff and a tiny bit of angst and smut

Waking up next to Mason was your favourite thing in the world. Today though, you weren’t afforded that luxury.

The pair of you had moved into your new house about a week ago and you were still trying to make it a home. Things had been all over the place since your wedding just a month before but finally you were in your home and ready to make it exactly how you wanted it.

Tomorrow night would be Mason's first away game since you’d moved in and you could tell he was a little apprehensive about leaving you alone for the first time in this big house. You tried to reassure him that it would be a regular thing soon and you’d just have to get used to it but you couldn't deny you were also a little scared about it.

This new house was more than you ever thought you could have in a home. It was huge and finished to a high standard but when you were alone in the day you could swear you could hear and see things move. You knew Mason could tell something was up as you clung to him tightly when he got home but you just brushed it off by saying you missed him.

Mason was up earlier than you anticipated but after another night of him worshipping your body, you didn’t even wake up fully as he moved around. Ever since your wedding a month ago he was even more touchy than usual but you weren't complaining about any of it as you wanted him just as much. However this morning you needed to recover from the way he’d put you to the test last night knowing you wouldn't see each other for a few days and you ached deliciously.

It was around 10am by the time you managed to peel the covers away from your body. Knowing you needed caffeine to try and shake yourself out of the space you were in and after quickly getting dressed you plodded down to the kitchen.

You knew there was something different about the room as soon as you stepped into the open plan space but you didn’t realise how obvious it was until you went to the coffee machine. Grabbing a mug from the cupboard before finding a folded up piece of paper taped to the front of the machine.

‘What the hell?’ You whispered. Placing your mug on the side so you could see what it was and as soon as you opened it up you recognised Mason's handwriting immediately.

‘Oh Mase’ you breathed. Your bottom lip jutting out as you read over his note a few times until you couldn’t anymore as your eyes filled with tears that you blinked away.

It was times like this where you fell in love with Mason even more than you thought you could. He was already your everything but the way he proved himself all the time that he was thinking of you and trying his best to make you smile whenever he could melted you and made you wish he was standing next to you so you could give him a big kiss.

The excited part of you wanted to run around and find them all straight away but you figured since you were on your own for at least three days it would be best to space them out a little bit. This was clearly a distraction exercise for you and you didn’t want to ruin it for him so you made your coffee and took it up to bed with your note so you could read it over and over again.

You had some errands to run today, but you didn’t want to leave without finding at least one more. Thankfully the next one wasn’t hard to find and as you made your way into the dining room the bright bunch of flowers sitting in the middle of the table caught your eye immediately.

You could tell this note was much smaller than the last, reaching out with a giddy smile in anticipation of what he had to say to you next and just like usual he didn’t disappoint.

You were giggling like a schoolgirl as you bent to take a big sniff of them. They were bright and colourful and looked how Mason made you feel on the inside. They were wasted in the dining room though so you picked them up and took them into the sitting room so it gave a chance to look at them everyday before snapping a quick picture to say thank you to him.

You left the house shortly after with a spring in your step. Popping to the supermarket to do the food shop and then nipping to the bakery on the way home to get yourself a few treats for lunch. This afternoon you were planning to paint one of the spare rooms that you would be using for your office and after you'd eaten and put the shopping away you quickly nipped to B&Q for the last few bit’s you needed.

The whole time you were painting your office you couldn't stop thinking about Mason and where the next note might be. Knowing he must have gotten up extra early today to plant them around the house made you giggle but you also realised how into this he was and knew he would have some extra special hiding places for you to find.

Your painting took longer than you'd planned for it to, eventually finishing in time for you to make some quick dinner before your favourite shows started. You were messaging Mason a little bit throughout the day as he quizzed you about the notes and if you had looked for more but to his dismay you hadn't. You told him you were itching for a shower and would look before bed but thankfully for you, you didn't have to look too far.

Your bathroom was probably the last place the note should have been but you knew Mason had gone out if his way to surprise you so you should have expected the unexpected. As soon as you opened your cupboard to grab your skin care you were met with a glass frame that was closed like a book and the usual lined paper that was stuck to the front.

If anyone felt lucky in this moment it was you feeling lucky that you got to marry someone as wonderful as Mason and before you broke down in tears again your eyes flickered to the photo frame in your cupboard.

As you pulled apart the frame, you realised it had two sides, one containing a photo for yours and Mason's wedding day whilst the other seemed to have dried flowers from your bouquet pressed between the glass.

‘Oh my god’ you whispered, tears pouring down your face as you gently touched the picture of the pair of you having your first dance and you felt all consumed with your love for him. Taking the frame back into your room and placing it on your bedside table so you could look at him before you went to sleep and knew you wanted to let him know you’d found the next note even if you couldn’t keep your emotions in check.

Getting to marry Mason was a dream. The whole day you felt like a princess as the man of your dreams promised to give himself to you but you hadn’t been able to relive the day as much as you’d have liked as your official wedding photos and video still weren’t ready. Mason had obviously managed to get a hold of one though and the sweet gift had made you more emotional than you thought it would.

You missed Mason more than you ever had but you’d barely been away from this time. Telling yourself it was only a few more days but you were counting down the hours until he was back in your arms.

The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Excited to go hunting for a new note before you got started on some more unpacking but it seemed as though the next note was a bit too well hidden so you gave up and went to have a shower and get dressed. Telling yourself to look a bit later with fresh eyes when you’ve had a think about it while unpacking.

The boxes you needed were in the garage and you were digging around in there for a little while until you came across what you needed and picked it up ready to leave.

The next note was staring you in the face. Attached to the back of the door so you’d see it on the way out and you laughed as you popped the box down to read it.

You remembered the first time you’d met too, you were only 18 and when Mason said you’d crashed into each other you’d quite literally crashed into him.

Being invited to parties at school was somewhat of a rare occurrence. You and your friends weren’t part of the cool kids in your year but you knew whenever Seb was having a party you’d be invited.

You’d known Seb since you were babies. Your mums being best friends that had magically gotten pregnant at the same time and whilst you weren’t as close as you once were, he was like family and you had a permanent invite to any party he threw in order for you not to rat him out to his mum.

You didn’t care for the people there, you and your friends sticking to yourselves but it was worth it for the free drinks and soon enough you were being invited to parties no matter who was hosting or where they were.

It was that time of the year though, exams were finally over and uni offers had been accepted. Most of you now over the age of 18 and able to buy alcohol and get into clubs but for one last time Seb wanted to get everyone together again. One last hurrah before you all went your separate ways and it was all going well until you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see.

Logan was in the year above, a popular guy and way out of your league but you fell for his charms quickly. You never understood why he’d gone for you but he had and the pair of you started dating shortly after you’d met. He was sweet and sensitive and made you feel on top of the world but right now you wished the ground would swallow you up.

You quickly excused yourself from your friends, wanting to get away and out of his eyeline and thankfully knowing Sebs house like it was your own meant you could sneak away and run into the utility room that was just through the garage.

‘Oh shit! Sorry, are you alright?’ You suddenly heard. Feeling a hand on your arm as the stranger you’d walked straight into tried to steady you and when you looked up you were met with a face you didn’t recognise.

A very attractive face you didn’t recognise.

‘I’m fine’ you managed to stutter out, straightening yourself up as he let go of you and you were thankful he’d managed to keep his drink contained in his cup and it wasn’t all down your front. You’d bought this dress especially for tonight and even though it was way out of your comfort zone you wanted to make sure you looked good. It was silky and tight and you knew any stain would show up straight away and it was the last thing you needed to look like a hot mess. ‘Sorry, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here, I wasn’t looking where I was going’ you tried to explain but his sweet smile made you feel at ease and you couldn’t help but smile back.

‘No it’s okay, I wasn’t either’ he laughed. Scratching the back of his neck nervously and you couldn’t help but find him endearing straight away. ‘You sure you’re alright? Looks like I’ve seen a ghost’

‘I’m fine, really’ you told him, trying to brush him off so you could get a few minutes alone and collect yourself but your mystery man didn’t want to let you go that easily. His big brown eyes looking right into yours and you were struck by how handsome he was straight away.

‘Can I get you a drink then at least?’ He offered. Head nodding to the assortment of bottles behind him and you sent him a small nod before telling him your usual. Most drinks were kept in the kitchen but the good stuff was kept out here and you smiled as Mason found exactly what you wanted with ease. ‘I know I’ve asked, and I know you said you’re fine, but are you sure? You can tell me you know. Nothing like spilling your secrets to a stranger’

‘Are you offering to be my therapist?’

‘Of sorts. I can’t tell you I have the answers to everything but i'm a good listener and I won’t charge you an arm and a leg’ he chuckled and you smiled back in amusement as he passed you your drink. ‘I’m Mason, by the way’

‘y/n’

‘Nice to meet you, y/n’ he smiled and you liked the way your name sounded coming out of his mouth straight away. ‘I take it you went to school with Seb?’

‘Yeah, we’re sort of family friends and I’ve known him since we were babies’ you laughed. ‘How do you know him?’

‘We used to play football together in the same academy before he got released’ he nodded, resting himself up against the cabinet so you decided to join him and he smiled as you placed yourself next to him.

‘Oh yeah I remember him telling me something about that once. He was so upset when it happened’

‘Yeah it’s tough, happed to a few of the guys’

‘What about you, do you still play?’ You asked, hoping if you spoke about him he’d forget to ask about you and thankfully your plan was working.

‘I do actually, yeah. I’ve just come back from a year playing abroad so I’m just assessing my options’

‘Wow, that’s so cool’

‘Yeah it’s different, glad to be home though’ he chuckled before bumping his shoulder into yours. ‘Anyway we’re meant to be talking about you, not me. Stop changing the subject’

‘You noticed that, huh?’ You laughed, rolling your eyes at how perceptive he was. ‘It’s nothing really, I feel a bit stupid now anyway’

‘Well you can’t leave me hanging’

‘Okay fine’ you gulped, taking a deep breath so you could tell him but to your surprise you felt at ease spilling your guts to him. ‘My ex is here and I didn’t expect him to be’

‘Ohhh I see. Bad break up?’

‘I don’t even know. He’s a year above and already at uni. I thought things were fine but he text me a few months back saying I distracted him too much and he wanted a fresh start from everything, including me, and I haven’t seen or heard from him since’ you shrugged. ‘Like it was so out of the blue but we’d only been together for around six months so i didn't take it too hard but it’s still a bit shit to see him’

‘It’s still a dick thing to do, I’m really sorry’ he told you, his brows furrowed like he was annoyed on your behalf but you sent him a small smile to let him know you were fine.

‘It’s okay, it is what it is. Like there’s not much I can do, I just feel weird. Not in like an upset I want him back way it’s more like when I saw him just now, I didn’t feel anything. Like…’ you trailed off, feeling like maybe you were saying too much but Mason's kind face had destroyed all your walls. ‘Sorry, I’m being silly. You didn’t need to listen to me rabbit on I bet your friends are wondering where you are’

‘No, y/n it’s fine-‘

‘I should be getting back out too, but I’ll see you around probably’

‘y/n-‘

‘Thanks for the drink’ you smiled. Cutting him off one last time before you got up and left as quick as you could.

All you wanted was to find your friends and keep away from everyone else. Be that your ex or your new friend with the pretty brown eyes that made your tummy swirl but you weren't having much luck. Your friends seemed to have vanished into thin air and you were walking around aimlessly until you decided to stop and call one of them in hopes they’d pick up.

You didn’t get a chance to hit call though, a tall shadow looming over you and when you looked up it was number one on your list of people you didn’t want to be acquainted with.

‘y/n? I thought I saw you earlier’ Logan smiled, but you were frozen in place. Not even being able to let a breath out as he looked down at you ‘listen I was hoping we could-‘

‘Ah there you are’ you suddenly heard. Looking to your left to see Mason walking towards you with two drinks in his hand and a cheeky smile on his face. ‘You left your drink in the other room, gorgeous. I got you a fresh one’ he smiled. Passing you a cup before wrapping his now free arm around your waist and kissing your temple gently. ‘You alright, mate? I’m Mason, y/n’s boyfriend. You are?’

Boyfriend? What on earth was he doing?

‘L-Logan’ he stuttered. Reaching out to shake Masons outstretched hand and the confusion on his face made you want to smile but soon enough his hard eyes were back on you. ‘I didn’t know you were seeing someone’

‘Were not exactly on speaking terms are we’ you bit back. Mason rubbing his thumb soothingly over your hip over the top of your dress and you were surprised at how relaxed you felt. Melting into his body as he pressed another kiss to your temple and you knew it was driving Logan mad.

‘How’d you guys meet? And when?’ Logan asked. An accusatory tone in his voice but Mason wanted to be the one to rain on his parade it seemed and you were pretty glad as your mind was blank.

‘It was Sainsburys, wasn’t it babe? Couple of months back I think. We were both reaching for the last tub of Ben and Jerrys but I got there first. She was so upset, like look at this face. You’d have to be messed up to want to upset someone this beautiful so I told her she could have it if she agreed to a date with me and thankfully for me she said yes’ Mason chuckled and you stared back at him in amazement as the made up story fell from his lips. Knowing you should maybe butt in and say something to make it more believable.

‘We made it official yesterday, he took me out to that new ice cream shop in town and we shared a sundae. You were so nervous, weren’t you’ you laughed, looking back up into his brown eyes but the bright smile he was sending your way relaxed you. ‘I have no idea why, there was no need to be. I said yes right away and would every time’

‘What did I ever do to deserve her, eh? Beautiful, smart, funny. I always say to her, her ex must be an idiot letting her go but if it means she’s mine now then I don’t care’ he told Logan. Resting his cheek on your head as he pulled you impossibly closer. ‘Sorry we’ve been talking your ear off, I think we’re just excited you know?’

‘Sure’ Logan grumbled, the annoyed look on his face satisfactory enough for you but when he finally made eye contact with you again you saw how pissed he actually was. ‘I need to go find someone but I’ll see you guys around’

‘Oh definitely, we’ll talk to you in a bit’ Mason smiled and with one last look at you, he stormed off into another room leaving you and Mason alone.

‘What the fuck was that’ you laughed, turning to face him but keeping close so he would keep his arm around you and thankfully he did.

‘Well I could tell from a mile off just by the look on your face he was probably your ex and I’ve always been a sucker for a damsel in distress’ he teased, squeezing your waist gently as he looked down at you with a smile.

‘That may be so, but you’ve sort of shot yourself in the foot a bit’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well you’re gonna have to stay with me for the rest of the night now, duh’ you giggled ‘if you leave me in my own he’ll get suspicious and try to talk to me’

‘Well lucky for you, I don’t see that as a bad thing’ he winked and you felt your cheeks flush. ‘Unless you want me to piss off?’

‘Nah, I think you’ve earned your spot’ you told him, biting your lip cheekily and the way his eyes flashed to your lips made your tummy flutter.

So you went and found your friends with Mason in tow and to say they were surprised by a random boys presence was an understatement. You quickly explained the situation though and they were more than happy to play along. Especially when Mason asked you all to join the guys he’d come with and they seemed more than happy to hang out with you.

Throughout the night you’d ended up practically sat in Mason's lap. His hands rarely leaving your waist as you got to know each other and you didn’t see Logan again that night. Whether that was because he’d left or was just staying out of your way you didn’t know but you were so wrapped up in Mason you didn’t care.

You couldn’t get over how gorgeous he was. Big brown eyes and a killer smile but it was his goofy personality and his insistent need to make you laugh that was really winning you over. He was cheeky and silly and the way he kept looking you up and down made you blush.

The only time you left him was to have a dance for a little bit. Still looking back at him often to find his eyes on you and when you slipped off to the loo you were surprised to hear your name being spoken by a voice you knew was Seb’s.

‘Oi mate, what’s going on with you an y/n?’

‘We’re just hanging out. She’s nice’ Mason replied. A soft smile adorning your lips at the fact he thought you were nice but you thought he was more than nice.

‘I know she is, but when I said there would be girls here I didn’t mean her. I meant the others who’s are just after a shag’

‘Who says I’m just looking for a shag?’ Mason retorted and you rolled your eyes at their silly conversation. ‘Come on man, you know me and you know I’m not like that’

‘Look all I know is, that girl is like a sister to me and if you hurt I swear to god-‘

‘Mate, I promise you I’m not gonna hurt her. I know we’ve been drinking and stuff but I actually really like her’ he confessed and you felt your tummy flip at his confession. ‘Do you think she’d go on a date with me?’

‘I mean I don’t see why not, but just know i'll be keeping an eye on you. Also if things do work out I expect a major role at the wedding’

‘You can be y/n’s man of honour’ Mason joked ‘I bet you’d look great in a dress’

You felt yourself flushing as they spoke about you. Thankful Seb was so protective over you and you made a mental note to find him later and give him a big hug but you didn’t want to intrude anymore so you left them to it. Bickering about who would look better in a dress and you tried to hold in your giggles as you rushed to the bathroom.

Once you’d finally used the loo you stepped outside into and empty hallway, only to be met by Mason coming out of one of the guest rooms a few doors down saying goodbye to whoever he was on the phone to and his eyes lit up when he saw you. Holding his hand out for you to take and when he pulled you into his body, you melted into him.

‘Hey girlfriend, I’ve been looking for you’

‘I’ve only been away from you for ten minutes’ you giggled. Letting him wrap his arms around your shoulders as you held him at his waist and the feeling of warmth and safety hit you like a truck.

‘Ten minutes too long’ he whispered, placing a gentle kiss between your eyebrows and you shut your eyes at the feel of it. ‘Come in here with me for a sec?’ He asked, nodding back into the room he’d just come from and even though you were going into a room alone with a boy you’d just met that night you still felt safe so you let him take your hand and lead you in.

‘Was everything okay?’ You asked, trying to make conversation to distract yourself from how nervous you felt and you quickly took a seat on the edge of the bed whilst he shut the door.

‘Yeah, fine. Just my dad wanting to talk about some football stuff but I told him it can wait’ he nodded. Sitting himself down next to you as he took your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. Sensing how nervous you were clearly but just the touch of him relaxed you. ‘You know when I came here tonight, I didn’t think I’d meet someone like you’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well Seb said there would be girls here but you’re so different to everyone I’ve ever met’

‘That’s because he didn’t mean me’ you laughed, remembering the conversation you’d overheard just before and you knew Seb was probably trying to set him up with one of the more popular girls.

‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Well I wasn’t exactly the most popular at school, or the prettiest. He probably meant someone like Kate or Jess. You know, the girls all the other guys wanted’

‘Well, funnily enough I have no idea who Kate or Jess are and even if I did I still think I’d have had my eye on you’ he winked and you felt yourself blush as you hid in his shoulder. ‘What? I’m serious’ he laughed, his free hand coming to your thigh so he could lift it over his lap and move you to straddle him. You’d never been in this situation before, alone in a room with a boy you’d only met a few hours prior but you knew you didn’t want to stop so you went with it and placed your arms around his neck as he held you at your waist.

‘Mase, stop it’ you giggled, realising you’d used the nickname everyone had been calling him for the first time to his face and you quickly hid your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

‘Am I making you flustered?’ He teased and you nodded into his neck when you felt his arms pull you to him tighter. ‘I’m sorry, love. But it’s true. Prettiest girl in here by a mile and that’s not me chatting shit. I saw you when I got here earlier and I thought I’d hit the jackpot when we bumped into each other in the garage. And anyway, forget all that. You're my girl for tonight, yeah? I can’t be looking anyone else’

‘Just for tonight?’ You teased pulling back to look at him and the pretty smile that took over his face made your knees weak.

‘We can extend my contract if you like. Depends if the terms are favourable though’

‘How about you take me to that ice cream shop we had our first date at and we can discuss it further’

‘Deal’ he breathed, but before you had a second to think he planted his lips on yours.

You'd been waiting all night for him to kiss you. The tension between the pair of you had been thick and now it’s like your bubble had burst.

He was gentle with you, keeping his hands planted firmly on your waist as he delicately brushed his lips against yours and you had to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth. Overwhelmed by the smell and taste of him and you almost lost it when you felt his tongue against your lips but you let him in straight away. Eager to feel as much of him as you could without pushing it too far.

‘I’ve wanted to kiss you all night’ he whispered when you finally broke apart for air, nose bumping into yours gently but you still didn’t have the confidence to look at him properly and kept your eyes planted on his chest.

‘Me too’ you giggled. ‘You know, I’ve never kissed a boy at a party before. Let alone be in a room alone with one’

‘Seriously?’ He laughed, a teasing tone to his voice and when he tickled your waist your eyes flashed up to look into his dark ones.

‘I’m a good girl, Mason’

‘Is that so’ he drawled, almost like he wanted to challenge you on it and there was something inside of you that made you want to keep teasing him so you carried on.

‘Yes it is’ you laughed. ‘I’m not that sort of girl’

‘Well-‘

Mason was cut off by the sound of the door opening. The pair of you quickly looking to see who’d interrupted you and to your shock it was Logan. His face bemused as his gaze landed on you and you knew your underwear was on show as your dress had ridden up but Mason was quick to move you to his side so you were shielded from him.

‘Shit, sorry mate I must have forgotten to lock the door’ Mason laughed but you didn’t hear a response. Just a grunt from Logan before he slammed the door behind him. ‘Well I don’t know about you but I’d say mission accomplished’

You didn’t take things any further that night. Sticking together still and swapping numbers before you left but he was quick to ask to see you again and you hadn’t really left each other alone since.

That had been four years ago and now you were newly married in your new shared home and it felt good to take a walk down memory lane for a little bit and realise how far you’d come.

You knew you needed to get back on track though, grabbing the box you needed to unpack and taking it inside as you daydreamed about Mason for the rest of the afternoon.

You had two more notes to find, and you were starting to run out of options of places to look. You knew you wanted to find one before bed and In the end you began looking in each room one by one until you came to one of the guest rooms.

It was still bare like all the others but a red box on one of the shelves at the back caught your eye. There shouldn’t have been anything in here so you carefully walked over to reach for it and your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the infamous lined paper neatly folded and taped to the lid of the box. You wanted to read the note first and not ruin what was inside so as carefully as you could you peeled the note away and unfolded it.

You gasped at the words on the paper. Breath stuck in your lungs as you couldn’t find a way to breathe properly but it was soon rushing out as you tried to stop your bottom lip from wobbling.

Mason had always wanted kids, you’d known it from your first date in the ice cream shop when you caught him looking fondly at a small child trying to eat its ice cream and when the pair of you were able to meet his niece Summer, it was written all over his face how much he was in his element. The twinkle in his eye letting you know that he couldn't wait for the pair of you to be in this position one day. In fact it was this very room when you were taking a tour of this house that Mason had picked out for a nursery and even though you’d laughed it off you now realised he was more serious than you thought.

The fact Mason felt settled enough with you now to try for a little one of your own made your skin tingle all over. The shaky breath falling for your lips and you couldn’t contain your smile at the thought of a tiny Mason to keep you company when Mason was away.

Your attention turned to the box in your lap next. Getting a better look at it to see it was a small shoe box and you couldn’t wait to get inside of it. Your eyes filling up with tears again before you’d even got the lid off but you were a mess by the time you had the little trainers in your hands. A matching version to the ones Mason had recently gifted you and you felt the sobs creep up your throat until they were mixed with your giggles.

There was one note left and it was driving you insane. You had the house nearly tipped upside down by the end of the day looking for it and it was still nowhere to be seen. Looking in every room and every cupboard and you were discovering things about the house you didn’t even know. The most exciting thing was a door in the back of your cupboard under the stairs that when opened had a secret staircase that made its way into your walk-in wardrobe and you made a mental note to ask Mason about it when he was home as you had no idea what that would be for.

It was useless though and you took yourself off to bed knowing you’d have the whole of the next day too look but it was bugging you that he’d hidden it so well.

Mason would be home later the next day and you wanted to have them all found but it seemed pretty hopeless until about mid morning when you realised your wardrobe was probably the only place you hadn’t looked.

It seemed like the last resort but you carefully opened every drawer until you came to your special underwear section. There sat a black box with the tiny note you’d been going crazy over and you quickly opened it with excitement to see what he had to say.

What? You wondered. Picking up the black box and thinking whatever it was was probably inside but you weren’t prepared for what you were about to be met with.

You noticed the colour first. A deep but vibrant red, similar to the colour of the dress you wore the first night you met and you carefully took each piece out and laid them on your bed so you could work out what mason had got for you this time.

It was quite possibly one of the most revealing sets of underwear you’d ever seen. The cups of the bra covered by just some lace that matched the sides of the thong but it was the belt and choker situation that came with it that was making you blush furiously. Thinking there was no way in hell you’d ever feel confident enough to wear it but thinking about the look on Masons face when you did made you chuckle.

If Mason wanted you in these when he got back then that’s what he would be getting. Jumping in the shower so you could get yourself ready for him and when you were in there you had the perfect idea. Wanting to play Mason at his own game but you didn’t have as much time to prepare as he’d had and you wondered if it was a little silly but you went with it. Even more excited for Mason to get home in a few hours.

When Mason finally made it home, all he wanted to do was dump his bags and go and find you. He’d missed your touch for the last few days and he’d been thinking about nothing else on the drive over from the airport.

Little did he know you’d have your own game for him to play and he noticed the paper taped to the door as soon as he walked up the drive. Smiling cheekily to himself as he peeled it from the door and eagerly looked it over.

He smiled softly as he read over your writing and as soon as he opened the front door he felt relaxed. Yes the pair of you had only been here around and week and yes it was still empty but he knew you were here somewhere and wherever you were that’s where home was.

So he did as you asked. Going to the kitchen first where he found a few slices of pizza that he presumed were from one you’d made yourself tonight and a fresh bottle of Pepsi on the side. Mason loved your pizza and would always beg you to make it but it wasn’t exactly part of his meal plan so you only made it for special occasions. It was just what he needed after his flight though and he took a giant bite whilst unfolding the next note to see what you had to say next.

He’d managed to finish one slice whilst reading the note so he took the next slice with him along with all his bags over to the utility room. Thinking this was just your way of making him put all his stuff away and not leave it dumped by the door as he always did but he went along with it as he knew it would take longer to see you if he cheated. He also knew how excited he got when he put all the notes out for you and he didn’t want to spoil your fun so he did what you wanted and made his way over.

Another note greated him there, this one attached to the fabric softener and he had a feeling you were about to ask him to separate his washing out but he still opened it with a smile. Thinking to himself he’d do it gladly if it meant it got him one step closer to you.

Mason was too excited to wait. Popping his bags on the side before rushing up the stairs and he knew it would just take one more flight up to find you in your shared room but he still did as you asked. Rushing into the bathroom to find the dryer on and a note attached to the mirror on his side of the sink which he tore down immediately.

He felt himself melt at the way you’d made sure he had warm clothes ready for him when he got back so he quickly rid the clothes from his body before reaching for the toasty ones in the dryer. A comfy pair of grey shorts and one of his baggy tee’s that he got on as quickly as he could so they were still warm and now he wanted to see you more than ever.

He was over and into the storage cupboard in a flash. Not caring about what you might be asking him to do he just wanted to see you and with each note he was growing more impatient so he stormed in and tore the paper from the back wall in hopes this would be the final piece of the puzzle.

Good boy huh? He thought, the term making him smile as he could tell what sort of mood you were in but he followed your instructions and went into the back of the cupboard where he found the door in question.

‘What the hell’, Mason whispered under his breath. Turning the handle gingerly and to his surprise it opened fairly easily. Light filling the dim room from inside and once it was fully open he looked up to find a set of stairs and an open doorway at the top with the light on in the room upstairs. ‘Baby? You up there?’ He called. Not hearing an answer exactly but the musical sound of your laugh let him know you were.

The thought of seeing you pushed every worry out of his body and he took the stairs two at a time until he was at the top where he found himself in your walk-in wardrobe.

‘What the hell, did you build a staircase while I was gone?’ He joked, rounding the corner to hopefully see you but all the air left his lungs once he had.

There you were, laid on your side at the foot of the bed in your silky robe that you usually wore for special occasions and he froze on the spot. You looked perfect. Not sure if you looked extra good because you’d made some effort or just because he hadn’t seen you in a while but all he knew was you made him feel like a kid at Christmas.

‘Hi Mase’ you whispered. Catching on to how nervous he seemed as he played with the hem of the t-shirt he was wearing and avoided your eyes but you wanted him closer no matter how blushy and stuttery he was.

‘Hi baby’ he eventually got out, eyes flashing up to yours for a split second before he sent you a lopsided smile that made your heart flutter.

‘Come here’ you told him, moving so you were now on your knees at the edge of the bed and when he approached you you cupped his jaw as he gently held your waist. ‘I’ve missed you’

‘I’ve missed you too’

‘You sure?’ You laughed, joking about the fact he could barely look you in the eye but he just laughed before looking at you properly

‘Sorry, you're making me nervous’ he whispered, his cheeks flushed but his eyes were happy and that made you smile too. ‘Can I have a kiss please’

‘Of course you can’ you chuckled, leaning in slowly for him to meet you halfway and the way he kissed you made your head spin.

‘Why are you so nervous, Mase? It's only me’ you whispered after you’d pulled away. Noticing he still couldn’t look at you properly and his cheeks and nose were a deep pink.

‘I think just after that note I left you with the shoes. I just wanted to make sure you’re fully on board like I don’t want you to think I’m forcing you into anything-‘

‘Baby no’ you laughed ‘of course I’m on board’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled and you nodded back shyly. ‘I’ve always wanted a family and I’ve always known I wanted it to be with you. I’ve wanted to try for a while but now you’re finally Mrs Mount and we’re getting settled in here, I just don’t think I can wait anymore. I know we’re young but I really think we can do this’

‘I think so too’ you smiled, nodding along to make him believe this is what you saw for your future too and the look on his face took your breath away.

‘You’re gonna be the best mum, I know it’

‘And you’re gonna be the best dad’ you whispered, watching his face light up before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You felt his hands fiddling with the tie around your waist soon after, letting him untie it carefully before he peeled open your robe to reveal the fancy new underwear he’d bought for you and even though you were petrified about being in something so revealing, the way Masons eyes flashed over your skin made you feel weak.

‘You fucking perfect’ he whispered, fingertips lightly trailing your body as he drunk up every last inch of you. Eyes all over your body as he whispered to himself about how lucky he was and you almost felt your legs give way until his hands snaked around your body to grip your bare bum.

He was kissing you soon after, slow and sexy like he wanted to savour every last drop of you and when he placed your arms around his neck you held on tightly as he grabbed your thighs and lifted you into the air.

It always stunned you how strong Mason was. Lifting you up like it was nothing so you could wrap your legs around him but he was sitting down on the edge of the bed soon after. Letting you straddle his thighs as you continued to kiss and as soon as you were in his lap you felt him hard underneath you.

‘The way I’m feeling right now I wanna put ten babies in you’ he whispered, making you giggle as he squeezed your thighs before pushing the robe off of you completely. You tried to respond but couldn’t, Mason capturing your lips again and you moaned into his mouth as he began to help you rock your hips over his lap. Feeling him grown beneath you but soon enough he’d flipped the pair of you over so you were on your back and he was hovering over you. Ridding himself of his T-shirt and you felt the familiar wave of excitement rush down your spine and to your core. ‘All I’ve been thinking about the last few days is getting to see you like this’

‘Well I hope I didn’t disappoint’ you whispered, letting his lips ghost over your skin and when he giggled into your chest you laughed along with him.

‘You could never’ he told you truthfully before finally getting to do what he’d wanted to do with you for days. The same Mason you’d always known and loved but a new beginning on the horizon and you couldn’t wait to finally start the life you’d always dreamed of.

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hope you enjoyed it and if you could leave me a little feedback that would mean so much 😘

[pookietv]

jealousy, jealousy | arthur hill

okay i am very proud of this pls do not let her flop!!

you had decided that you and arthur were a riddle, wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, or whatever the saying was.

you had liked him for the longest time, hiding it pretty well from your mutual friend group, trying your desperate best to keep it under wraps in an attempt to preserve your friendship.

that was, until, a night out where you had both had a little too much to drink, and the night had become a blur. at least, you pretended it had become a blur.

in reality, arthur was so sweet to you and you had savoured it and immortalised it in your own memory, aware that it may be the only time. his arm wrapped lazily on top of your stomach, a comfort in the weight, his head resting opposite yours. his other hand intertwined in your hair, fingers gently soothing strands of your hair down, moving in rhythmic strokes.

his aftershave a blend of a sweeter mix, something cedar like. the dim yellowed light that could weave it's way through his blinds. his breathing was slowed and steady, the gentle hum of traffic from the open window an afterthought.

you had allowed yourself to trace the smaller lines of his face with your eyes, the smaller marks you usually wouldn't see, focused on his parted lips, a slight smile playing on them, as all you could think about was how gentle he was when he placed kisses on you, like you would break, on your forehead, cheek, collarbone, and that you could feel his mustache tickle your skin wherever he pressed himself.

his slight habit of drawing on exposed skin, the pad of his finger running lazily up and down your neck, and you closed your eyes for a moment, made you silently will that if god was real that he would permit moments to be frozen.

so when arthur suggested that for the preservation of your friendship, you should probably both pretend it didn't happen, it was all you could do not to scream at him that he was all you wanted and it was cruel of him to show you such love and then deprive you of it.

but it was arthur, and you wanted him to be happy. so if ignoring anything happened made him happy, you swallowed down your feelings and nodded.

it had been two months since, and you had tried your best to just bury it, act how you always had around him - close friends, and ignore your feelings towards him like you always had.

you guys had agreed to go out to a bar, both arthurs, george, chris and bach, since it was a friday night and you hadn't done anything in a while.

so there you were, sat in a booth, sipping possibly your fourth vodka cocktail, yapping to chris incoherently about some bird documentary he had recently watched over the loud music.

"did you do something different with your hair?" you asked chris, cocking your head slightly as you looked at him.

he furrowed his eyebrows slightly and shook his head with a grin, "no, why?"

you shrugged, "just looks nice, thought it looked different or something. whatevers different suits you," you said, before turning to the conversation that arthurtv and bach had become engaged in. you had noticed arthur hadn't said much the whole night, had sat pretty quietly drinking his pints, then moved onto spirits and had been drinking them just as quickly.

you tapped george on the shoulder, squeezing him slightly to get his attention, and he turned to you with a slightly drunk smile.

you whispered slightly to him, gesturing to other arthur, "do you think arthur's been a little quiet tonight?" i said, and george nodded a little.

"yeah, he hasn't said too much, has he? wouldn't worry about it too much, he's probably just tired, i heard him plodding around the apartment late last night," george responded, also whispering, and i nodded in response, giggling a little.

i looked over to other arthur, giving him a small smile, almost like a non-verbal 'are you okay', but his eyebrows just furrowed slightly back at you, before he looked away.

people got drunker as the drinks kept flowing, and whilst the boys were engaging in their zestiest activity with each other, as they often did whilst drunk, you couldn't help but laugh at them as you swayed along, clearly not as energised as they were, with george singing lyrics in your face as a motivator to get involved with their buzzed dancing, so you did giggling and singing along, being able to smell the beer from him as you danced.

still, arthur was barely involved, swaying himself slightly to seem into it but you could tell something was wrong.

so when he excused himself to go to the bar, you not long followed behind him, finding him with his fresh drink, still just leaning against the bar, not in any hurry to return to the group.

you tapped him lightly on the shoulder, your face soft with concern as he turned to look at you, his face still stone like and stern looking.

"arthur? you've been quiet all night, everything okay?" you asked, speaking loud enough for him to hear you over the music but tone still soft with care.

"mhm. i'm fine," he responded dryly, taking another drink of the disaronno and coke, which you only knew he was drinking as you could smell the sweetened almond from him.

"you sure? 'cause you don't seem great, and i don't want you to be uncomfortable if you're not feeling it, i mean-" you said softly, on your tip toes now so you could speak without shouting to arthur, leveling to his height.

"surprised you even noticed anything was up." he murmured, tone slightly bitter.

you furrowed your eyebrow slightly, quirking your head as you rested back on your heels, "what'd'you mean?" you asked, still calm toned but curious now at the snarky comment he had just made.

"just forget about it, don't wanna do this right now in the middle of a busy bar," he practically hissed out, and you had to pause for a moment.

"do what? what, sorry, arthur? i-i don't understand?" you said, clear confusion written across your face.

"oh of course you don't understand, cause you've done nothing, right?" he bit back, almost sounding vicious.

you were taken aback by his bluntness, the way his eyes had hardened when they fixated on you. your mind was racing as you tried to think of what to say, or decipher what he meant.

she hadn't seen arthur like this, ever. kind, easygoing arthur who was always the first to make her smile if she was upset, had suddenly become some stranger.

"arthur... what are you talking about?" you managed to murmur out, bewildered by his sudden anger at me.

he took a deep breath, his eyes still hardened, "you know exactly what i'm talking about," he spat out, looking down at you for a moment, "the way you flirt with everyone, like it's some twisted game or joke. it's fucking annoying."

"i... are you serious? i haven't been flirting with anyone, i've been friendly." you said, feeling a slight surge of anger but trying your best to keep yourself level, more feeling confusion and hurt.

"friendly, really? so complimenting chris all night, dancing and telling secrets with george and letting arthur buy you drinks all night is friendly?" he snapped back, taking another swig of his drink.

"yes, it's fucking friendly! you usually act the exact same around me, it's nothing! arthur bought me a couple of drinks to be nice, i was dancing with george because he noticed i wasn't joining in," you retorted back, your breathing slightly heavier, "i haven't done anything wrong and you're being mean to me for no reason," you murmured under your breath.

"god, you're infuriating, do you know that? y-you're a complete headfuck!" he snapped back.

you felt stunned. he was angry at you, over what exactly? the air felt thick, heavy and charged, and you could feel the beat of the music on the floor of the bar, feeling your eyes welling up slightly, blinking as quick as you could in an effort to hold tears back. "you're being ridiculous, arthur," you finally managed to say, your voice slightly trembling.

"i'm being ridiculous? you know what i'm talking about, it's like you're trying to provoke something," he scoffed, his voice ever so slightly softened, possibly due to the obvious distress on your face.

you sighed, and stopped yourself from looking up at him, instead looking at the floor for a moment, before turning around and letting yourself leave.

the bar only felt smaller and smaller, and you desperately needed air, as soon as you got outside, you let yourself lean against the wall, breathing deeply in hopes to stop tears rolling down your face.

arthur had watched you walk away, seeing your small frame slightly hunched and your head low, feeling a sharp pang of guilt. he finished his drink in a large gulp, taking a deep breath, he knew he had to go out, face the music and make things right.

he weaved through the crowd, focused on getting outside to find wherever you had headed, as soon as he turned the corner and out the door, he saw you leaned against the wall, fingers threaded through your own hair, and felt his chest ache at the sight of you so worked up.

"i'm sorry. i know i was being a dick." arthur's eyes softened, voice barely above a whisper as she looked up to him, her eyes still wide and welled with tears.

"you were." you said softly, your own voice small and simple.

his head hung low, "i-i just felt jealous."

"jealous?" you murmured, barely able to make eye contact with him, eyes instead scanning the street.

his face flushed slightly in embarrassment, "i-i know its stupid, i couldn't help it. since, uh, when we got together, every time i see you just being sweet and funny around everyone i get like, a stupid jealous feeling. and i know that's no ones fault but my own, cause i was the one who told you to act like nothing happened, so i know i had no right to be angry even if you were flirting with anyone, but i just... suppose i was worried about messing anything up," he paused, almost bating his breath, "thought i would just forget about it and it would pass by but... yeah, i couldn't really forget about it."

"oh." you paused for a moment, letting your eyes wander from the street to him, his apology hanging in the air. "i liked you before we got together, you know? sounds silly, but the morning we woke up together, i had really thought we would be... something. i don't know, it was the first time i felt like someone showed me affection, real affection. then you said we should probably just forget about it and it took every muscle in my body to smile and pretend to agree that that was for the best." you said quietly, slightly embarrassed by the admission, but you felt like it was just something you had to get off your chest.

"i don't know why i ever said that." arthur admitted, his voice slightly deeper and quieter, swallowing a thick lump in his throat, "do you want to know something? i don't like waking up next to people, or sleeping in beds with people. not usually, anyway. but i don't know, you were just there and it felt like all i wanted to do was look at you or play with your hair and trace outlines on your skin. i know i sound silly right now."

"you don't sound silly." you reassured. "it's nice to hear. i figured you didn't like it, and that's why we pretended it didn't happen."

"please, can we.. you know, forget that we ever tried to forget it happened? i don't want to pretend it didn't happen. i'd like to take you out, and be domestic with you again."

"i'd like that a lot."

[stardancerluv]

What the Emperor Wants

Part Twenty - One

Summary: Continuation of Geta and reader’s wedding day. Time jump to a few months later.

Warnings/Notes: 18+ only! Long chapter ahead with time jumps. Dated views on marriage…a woman’s place in society…conception…pregnancy. So there is mention of pregnancy & monthly cycle/period. Consensual P in V intercourse, light fingering.

Violence in the arena mentioned (didn’t make it gruesome!) Mention of the Caracalla baths (we were robbed a bath scenes in the movie), Juno: Roman goddess of marriage, Virtus: Roman god of strength.

❤️s, notes, feedback & reblogs are so welcome. 💐 Thank you so much for reading. 🫣 sorry about the delay in posting!🫣

As he did you moved easily down the steps to edge of the royal box. Following his lead, you watched as Geta waved; you did the same.

Shouts, cheers and the sound of the trumpets filled the air.

“And our beloved, Caracalla is also in attendance with his new sister.”

Glancing to your side Caracalla walked up and waved as you had seen him do several times prior. The cheers and shouts once again filled the air.

“The gods, goddesses have bestowed her upon us.”

Geta, wrapped his arm tighter around you and brought you closer to the edge of the royal box, all you could see were people. You inwardly trembled. Glancing at Geta, you saw a huge, smile that was a cross his face.

His name, yours were chanted by the people. You placed a hand on your chest, gently bowing your head. The hard pounding of your heart, made it hard to breathe. It felt as if you had run a great distance.

“Citizens today’s celebration of my marriage,”

Geta rich, deep voice filled your ears and caused all those in attendance to fall silent.

“is tempered. In the midst of our wedding ceremony assailants attempted to steal her away from me, from all of you. They wanted to deliver her to the underworld before she could be welcomed and embraced by Roman.”

His eyes narrowed as he looked over the crowd. He glanced at you before he looked back and continued.

“The punishment for this has got to be swift, severe.”

There were rumbles from the crowd.

“Today,” His voice thundered. “the world will see what happens if you try and take my wife from me.”

He swallowed. “Bring forth the traitors of Rome.”

There was some screeching and grinding of metal as a gate not far off in one of the curves the arena opened.

“From the north gate, Praetorian guards, Faustus and Aelius are escorting the two whom wished to spill the blood of our empress.“

You watched as two Praetorian Guards escorted out Tertia and her conspirator. Just the sight of them made you ill.

More rumbles from the crowd grew. A few boos, and other negative sounds broke through the hum of the people.

“From the south gate, from the stable of Emperor Geta and his brother Caracalla, the undefeated Gylceo the destroyer is delivering the gods and goddesses earthly tools of punishment.”

Another gate clanked and screeched, groaning even as it open. A broad, ruddy faced gladiator holding strong leather straps, walked out of the shadows. You were certain you had seen him a handful of times. You swallowed, at the end of the leather straps was a bear and tiger.

The bear plodded out and took a swipe at the sand creating a small cloud. Cheers and roars of excitement rumbled from the crowds. The tiger had shaken itself off and without not much of a warning, it crouched low and let out a low growl. You held on tighter to Geta.

“You’re safe here blossom.” He murmured softly to you. “Tiger or bear?” He asked softly.

A tremble went through you. “What say you?”

“Tiger or bear for their punishment, your first decision as empress.” He smiled, a twinkle sparkled in his eyes.

You nodded. “Oh, um.” Chewing on your bottom lip, you glanced back into the arena at the two. “Tiger.”

He smiled, nodding. He rose his other hand, he reached into the air before brining his hand down forming a fist.

In voice, clear and robust he shouted.

“The gods feel a tiger, will be there punishment today.”

“The gods will it. The emperor and the empress will it. May the tiger deliver justice today for the laws you have broken.” The herald announced.

You don’t exactly remember if anything else had been said, but soon you found yourself sitting on your very own throne beside Geta’s. The pillow did provide some comfort.

Looking into the arena, one of the Praetorian guards handed the man a wooden shield. It would do little against the ferocity of a tiger. Tertia, immediately fell to her knees she tugged one of the scarlet cloaks. He shook her off, as he began to move away from the two.

Her words, her screams were barely understandable, perhaps you were beyond caring to want to understand. Perhaps, it was words from her native tongue.

“That could have been you.” Caracalla said, in a low voice.

A chill swept over you. You had thought those moments were behind the two of you. A breath later, a loud cheerful giggle came from him.

“But Dundas saw you and I saw you.” His smile was crooked and bright across his face. “And now I am happy that you are my sister.”

You swallowed, “I am grateful you are my brother.” You replied.

A loud roar cut through the air. You looked just as the gladiator released the tiger. He backed up.

Geta stood, his hands on the edge chimera’s head on his throne. His slender fingers taunt on the aged metal that formed that fearsome creature. His rings were brilliant and colorful like a flowers in a garden. You could practically feel his fingers as they took a hold of you. You longed to feel them again.

There was a snarl that cut through the growing heat of the day.

You watched as the tiger sunk backwards and leapt. Instinctively you jumped back, gasping at the metal meeting your back. Your eyes opening wider as you saw the tiger clash with the wooden shield. It shattered.

The crowd immediately erupted in cheers and screams. The tiger was only momentarily thwarted, it shook itself once more but this time, you could see a fury in the beast. Dust and sand plumed around it. You watched as they both turned and ran.

Geta beckoned to you. “Come wife, stand with me. Let us enjoy the spectacle of justice being served.”

“Yes, husband.” Inwardly your stomach knotted. You had never paused and watched. You had only ever heard swords being brandished or distant screams followed by the roars of the beasts or crowds alike.

Caracalla, to your other side stood. “Get them! Kill them.” His screechy, scratchy scream burst from him. “Hunt them down!” Another chuckle bubbled from him.

The tiger nabbed both. But the man you saw wiggle, slide away. He took one swipe at first, there was carnage and she no longer moved. Tiger moved fast and soon did the same to the man. Dark pools began to form in the sand near them. The tiger appeared pleased, he stopped and licked at one of his large paws.

The trumpet sounds filled the thick air. Cheers followed. You swallowed.

“Wine, fruit.” Geta’s tone was sharp.

You tried not empty your glass moments after it was filled but you had at least half, the girl was good. Attentive, you had seen her a few times but had never spoken. She filled it silently.

The herald, easily spoke of justice and now of the celebratory fights. Distantly, some unnamed people escorted their bodies away. Once again you found yourself sitting besides Geta and nibbling one some fruit. You felt calmer.

Gazing down your eyes caught sight of Geta holding his glass. You felt an eagerness to touch him. You were not sure if that was proper.

“Wife, my empress are you well?”

Blinking , you were met with Geta’s face a mixture of concern and something you couldn’t read.

You nodded. “I guess it’s over now.”

He nodded. “Yes.” He gestured to the arena. “You never peaked in there did you?”

You nodded.

“You only risked treason by glancing at me.”

You flushed. “Yes.”

“You will get used to it. Today was a good day. Normally, it gets boring and tedious.” He shrugged, then added in a quieter voice. “I’m glad you risked treason.”

You finally smiled since what had unfolded in the area before you. “I am too.”

******

He held you to his chest as he absently ran his fingers through your strands. A light dew of your passions clung to the two of you, on their first night of emperor and wife.

“You will have to grow accustomed to those sights. There are many fights, I have to oversee, judge and rule over. I will need you by my side.”

“Truly?”

You were as soft and gentle as the flower petals you reminded him of. He gave you a squeeze.

“Yes.” He tilted your face up, to look into your eyes. His thumb caressed your jaw.

“The next few days they will be more entertaining, a few choice battles won by our very own General Acacius and perhaps one or two naumachiaes.”

Your eyes grew. “I never saw those when I came to work in the royal box.”

“Well, not only will they you see them but you can enjoy them from the comfort of our thrones.”

“Can I get an extra pillow?”

A chuckle bubbled from him. “One day being an empress and you already want another pillow.” He caressed your cheek.

“Is that ok?”

“It’s more than ok. It’s expected.”

“Oh.” You smiled, your cheeks growing pink once again.

His thumb grazed the line of your cheeks. “I do believe we made Juno happy today.”

“I think so as well. But Virtus was along side of you today. When you rescued me, I had been so afraid.”

He could feel tremors go through you. He would not tolerate any malady plaguing you.

He eyed the lines and curves of your face. “I will never tolerate that, blossom. No one shall ever cause you any hard, distress.”

He kissed you. A soft muffled sound came from you but you allowed him to easily deepen the kiss. His heart began to beat harder once again.

“Lay back towards that end of the bed,” He gestured to the portion behind you. “I want to see the stars, the great Luna as our passions make us one while pleasure wraps around us as assuredly as our limbs do. I want my wife, Roman’s empress in their magnificent light.”

“Yes.” You replied softly.

He loved watching how you loved. You did like no other. Easily he crawled over and was half on, half off of you. He ran a hand along your soft side.

“The gods blessed us.” He murmured as he kissed you, a soft coming deep within him as he felt your fingers nestle in his strands.

*******

Your heart had quickened, your breath had shortened. Reaching up, you nestled your fingers into his fiery strands. Bliss was all you could feel. The attack, the tiger long forgotten. It was just him and you, this joy reminded you of tales of the joy the gods, goddesses had.

A pleasurable tightening in your stomach once again knotted as he moved to between your legs. Distantly, as new as this all was. You hoped your body tightened and would take his seed. You were eager to give him a child, a future.

“Geta.”

You moaned softly as you took him all in. He was truly a living breathing work of art. He pulled a whimper from you, feeling his fingers gently graze your center. A smile curled his lips.

“Want to feel me again, blossom? Will you part these petals for me once again tonight?”

“Yes, I need you.” You opened legs wider to receive him. How he appeared settling above you, made your heart squeeze.

“I shall no longer deny the two of us.”

Easily, he slid in till once again you were filled by him. You trembled as his fingers tightened their grip on your hip.

“You are exquisite.” His voice hoarse with pleasure.

All you could do was moan, it was an attempt at his name. He knew and the flame in his eyes grew stronger. As he began moving above you, your walls met him, squeezing him just as your legs wrapped around him.

Feeling him pause you opened your eyes not having realized you had closed them.

“Geta?” You were greeted with anger in his eyes you had not expected after the delicateness he had showed.

“Geta?” You repeated.

His lips formed a line, his thumb gave your hip a gentle, a vague caress before his fingertips grazed the still angry mark that had meant to pierce your heart. Your wedding stola had not been strong, he’d be preparing your funeral.

“Never will anyone ever get that close again. The streets will run red with blood before I allow that.” He murmured.

“And you took care of it. People know how you care for me, for their empress.”

It felt weird, saying that aloud about yourself. You had always been simply a young girl who had the wilds of nature under her feet and the sound of waves on occasion filling her hears. You had never thought anything higher than wife would be your title.

“They will learn if they did not today.”

Shifting still deep inside of you, he gripped the sheets that were already rumpled from earlier and it was not long before the two of you gave up to the passions you both felt. Your moans mingled and became one like your bodies.

******

Stirring, the sky was still a deep purple dawn would be upon Rome soon. Realization, came over you that you and Geta were a tangle of sheets and your own limbs. A softness had claimed Geta in his sleep, his hair ruffled and messy; some errant strands stuck to his forehead.

You brushed that aside. “I will love you to my dying day.” You whispered, and pressed a kiss to one of his cheeks. Your new life was ahead of you.

*********

You laid on the carpet of a leopard pelt, at least that is what you thought Geta had called the beast it had come from. It was soft made you forget the stone that was just underneath it. You glanced up at the cool, blue sky. The warmth of summer was drawing to a close. It would not be long before you could not lounge such as this in the gardens.

You had taken Geta’s advice and fully embrace being an empress. You had not been shy when a pillow, a blanket was needed or when you were terribly tired of being pricked by pins when clothes were made for you. Your voice rose a few times.

You were still not terribly demanding, since life had not always been so easy for you. Yet, in the short month, you had just been his mere possession; had made it easier for you to grow accustomed to be served. There still remained moments that still cloyed at you. There was limitations placed upon you that you had not entirely expected. You brought a hand up to rest your cheek as you remembered a moment that reaffirmed your new place in life.

In a cloak, with the hood up you were not completely unmindful of your place; when you ventured out to the markets. You missed the bartering of little possessions and the like. You had gotten a very good back and forth with one of the merchants when a guard arrived, Gallus. The man’s eyes grew and immediately fell to his knees, he pushed forward the beautiful scarf that had caught your eye; he mumbled about allowing you anything else you wished.

Before leaving with the scarf, Gallus was in tow but not before he snatched up an apple and contently took a loud crunching bite.

Aelia greeted you and mumbled of Geta’s ruffled mood before he had come in like a storm cloud.

In the last couple of months, when you did leave; guards remained in your shadow. You did hate upsetting Geta but you did miss the freedom to go and move around as you pleased. Well, at least when had been a good time to do so.

“Empress,” Aelia soft voice broke through your thoughts.

“Aelia.” You sat up, pushing yourself up from the soft fur. “Just like Geta, what did I tell you of this?”

She bowed her head. “I am sorry.”

“I was not long ago as you.”

“The gods have always held you higher.”

You remained silent. You had not felt like you had the particular energy to have this discussion once again with her.

“How are you feeling today?”

“A tiredness is still lingering.”

“Once again would you like me to look at you?”

“I wish my mother was here.”

On soft steps, she drew closer. “I know.”

*******

“This could deliver the distraction to move their attentions away from the empress.”

The senator gently touched a corner of the plans for the baths that Caracalla had been speaking of.

“Only so many battles in the arena will.” The senator continued softly. As he gestured to Caracalla’s plans before him.

Geta paused in his pacing, he slammed a fist down on the table. Dondas, went from one Caracalla’s shoulder to the other.

“They should love their empress, as I do.”

Geta twisted one of his rings, his eyes narrowed as he looked at one of the few senators, that didn’t rankle him like the others. The man remained silent.

“They had said I, Caracalla;”

He gestured to his brother who remained sitting. A pleased, lop sided smile was on his face. He was happy to see that plans had been drawn up.

“Had gone far away from the Roman ideal.”

Geta, mimicked a citizens voice.

“Their empress not terribly long ago had been like one of them; did they forget?”

His lips winkled in his annoyance.

“There are whispers, that it had been a ploy; a story.”

“I do not care to appease them on this manner. I will continue to lavish all the best upon her.”

“What if one chooses to rise up against you because of her?”

Geta turned to the man, he shifted where he stood and looked down. Easily the closed the distance. “They will meet their end in the arena.”

“They wouldn’t dare.” Caracalla’s mouth dipped on one side.“Then maybe we really should move forward with the baths.” Caralla quickly added.

Geta smiled. “Brother, I truly believe you have an idea we can all support. It will be a good distraction since General Acacius is still away and fighting.”

******

The soft fabrics peeled away easily. Her warm, dry fingers drift over your stomach. “I have noticed your appetite has grown. Do you feel the need to eat is greater?”

You nodded. “I have no bled for two months.” You glanced at her and as if for the first time did notice that there was a gentle swell of your stomach.

“That is surely a sign, were you not even told this by your mother?”

"I was only as a child, when she fretted over my brother’s wife.”

You heard her mutter about the plague, that brought their end. “I feel you are mostly certainly with child. Have you not had any nightly visits?”

“I mused they were hopes, wishes of a newly married girl.”

The woman shook her head, easily her fingers placed your clothes back as they were.

“I do not whispers to reach him before you get to speak to him. He will want to know.”

“Now?”

“Before the gathering tonight. Perhaps, it can be something to rise the spirits besides the food and drink.”

“Oh, yes.”

Excitement fluttered in you.

“We will have to create a new alter, one to show my gratitude to Juno and the goddesses to bestowing a child upon me.”

“I will get that in order.”

*****

Going to chambers you sat down on the table that now held some beautiful treasures Geta had been giving you. You smiled as you glanced at the bracelet he first gave you, you would never remove it from your wrist.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @laura-naruto-fan1998 @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @helsa3942 @marrowfrog00 @misspendragonsworld @therealjomarch @deliciousfestsalad @aspiringwhore @justalittlebitshy @littlemissholy @ruinedbythehobbit @bib200 @yes7686

[thevoidscreams]

i come forth to shyly ask if you'd ever consider writing something between Ushotan and a fem reader? much like Valdor, i too want to be a thunderfucker!

Day 14 Year 2: Warnings: Degrading language, rough sex, violent sex fantasies, mentions of death and killing, biting, blood, possessive language and of course breeding.

Word count:1987

You needed a break from the lab and its sterile restrictions. Day in and day out it was work, adjusting this and that, so that the beings you'd been tasked with helping to manufacture would be perfect. It dragged at you. And you needed something else. Something unrefined and coarse, something dirty and gritty. And you knew just where to find it. The trek had been long, taking multiple hours of your time and a chunk of the brief time you'd have away from the labs. You didn't much care though, given your pursuit was anything but the plain walls of the lab and the seeming endless lines of genetic code.

The thunder warriors were a large bunch, earlier creations, an unrefined iteration of what you were creating now.

You stopped in their camp, heart hammering in your chest as you looked around. "Pardon me, sir?" You asked a passing warrior, he barely stopped to give you a second thought. "What?" He grunted, looking you up and down as if trying to decide something. "Where is the primarch Ushotan?" The warrior raised an armored fist, pointing off where a large cluster of tents were staked, their fabric rippling in the morning breeze. "Thank you." You spoke up and the warrior grunted, plodding off once more to go about whatever business he'd originally been focused on.

It wasn't recommended to come down into the camps alone as a woman, those that did were mostly coming to offer services to them behemoths.

In a way you weren't any different, but there was only one individual you'd take to bed. You could hear the moans and cries of others as the towering men took their pleasure from said women, and even a few men.

The tent was open, and you saw him sitting, drinking something with several of his fellow warriors. They were laughing as they went about a game of some sort. Evidently enjoying a day off as well.

Stopping in the entry of the tent you tried to find your voice to speak up, but in the end you didn't have to. "Well Ushotan, looks like your little mouse has returned." The collective group of men turned to look at you. It was like being stared down by wolves.

"Good morning, Primarch Ushotan. May I have some of your time?" The armored warrior raised his hand and motioned you over.

You came over to him eagerly as he pulled you down into his lap. "Once I win this round you're all getting the fuck out." He growled with a feral sort of grin. No one had to ask why. Not around here, you understood that this was all part of it. Coming to Ushotan to fulfill your needs. He'd never turned you away, and you let him do as he pleased with your body.

Sex with him was more like riding out a storm, often you returned to the lab hiding bruises and stiff muscles. But the ride was worth it.

The primarch did as he said he would, beating the other players handily and set them away as he crowed his victory after them. "Another time men, maybe you'll get lucky." They left you and the Iron Lord's commander alone in the tent, the flap falling shut behind them.

Ushotan's hand had been on your thigh since he pulled you into his lap. "I have not seen you in weeks, little mouse. I had thought you might have run off with one of the smaller men in your labs and left me to fend for myself with only my hand and the memory of your tight cunt." He laughed. Lifting your chin, he pressed his mouth to yours in a domineering kiss.

"I could never." You breathed as he lifted you up and set you on your feet, rising to his own to begin pulling off his armor. You joined him, tugging off your clothes as he looked you over hungrily. "Never?" He snorted. "Given how rarely I am able to see you I don't quite believe it."

"Work and my loyalty to the emperor keeps me away, I know. I would see you every day if I could."

Ushotan set aside the last piece of armor and reached for you. "You would not survive if you did. I would just fuck you into oblivion." You let him pull you in and you kissed him first this time. He groaned in deep satisfaction at the gesture. Altered as he was Ushotan was still a human man. He had needs that war could not satisfy and needs he could not express. It was not his place to ask for such things as love or devotion. Not from a woman, but if he could have. His cock twitched, and your hand reached for it. Stroking the length. "I don't know, I believe that is a death I could face happily."

Ushotan breathed a laugh, it was a deep rough sound, but you treasured it. "I am not trying to kill you, woman. Only fuck you." "The please, my lord, fuck me." You returned and he groaned. "Don't call me that. Not when we are alone. Call me by my name." You nodded. "Of course Ushotan." "Mmm, that's better." He lifted you up, holding you by the thighs as he lined up his cock with your entrance. You trembled in anticipation, knowing that you were finally going to get off properly since the last time you saw him.

"You're shaking like a leaf." He observed, rolling his hips to brush the tip of his cock against your entrance. Teasing you with what you wanted so badly.

"I haven't cum since the last time I left your tent." You told him, body burning with need for the thunder warrior.

He grinned and nipped at the soft skin at the side of your throat. "What? Can't your fellow lab rats get you off?" He asked condescendingly, as he began to push into your cunt. "I wouldn't know, I can't even look at them that way." You panted as he pushed in inch by agonizing inch. "I can't even get myself to finish properly anymore. You've ruined me Ush, for any man other than you, and even my own self."

Ushotan pulled you down fully, groaning as he was seated in your burning heat. "Good," he hissed, lifting your weight and letting it drop you back down, spearing you on his cock. "Your body knows who it belongs to, I would kill any other man who touched you," He growled as he followed that pattern getting more forceful each time. "Crush their skulls like eggs and watch their brains ooze out between my fingers. Then fuck you in their blood." He grabbed your thighs harder, kissing you hard and forcing his tongue in your mouth.

You should have been repulsed by the mere thought of him killing someone in such a manner and then fucking you. But you were no saint and it wasn't far off from some of the fantasies you had. Late at night when you desperately fucked your own fingers chasing a high you might not even get as you pictured him storming the lab and taking you, stealing you away out into the world to keep you. He would fuck you every night until you were round and full with his children inside you, growing strong like their father.

How often had you bitten your own pillow and cried out for him as you edged yourself near to passing out desperately trying to cum.

"Fuck, Ushotan." You whined, pressing your face into his shoulder. You'd missed him as well, his dark humor and forthwith attitude. He never lied to you or played mind games. What happened between the two of you was an honest exchange. One that made you want to be near him more. "Come now you can do better than that. Scream my name, let every person in this camp know who's whore you are." He held you closer, jacking his hips up with enough force to bruise. "Ushotan!" You cried body shaking with need as he built you up faster than you'd ever been able to. "Again!" He snarled as he grit his teeth, making an effort to hold back, if he didn't he might crush your bones, rupture something internally. "USHOTAN!" You screamed his name not caring if anyone else heard. It wasn't like it was a secret that you sought him out for sex. "That's a good girl, screaming my name like a bitch in heat." He rutted into you. It was a serious effort not to cause irreversible damage. The thunder warrior had been dreaming of you since he last saw you, despite his often critical or derogatory language he still wanted you around, he wanted to have you again and again for whatever time was allotted to him, he would falter and fail eventually but he would have you as many times as possible before then. He would give you all of the pleasure that he could bestow. "Who's my good bitch? Who's my sweet little whore?" Ushotan growled as he lowered down to the ground, kneeling where he could better hold you. "Me, I am." You moaned wantonly, "I'm your whore Ushotan." "That's right." He locked his teeth around your shoulder and squeezed, feeling hot blood splash his tongue and tasted the sweet iron. You screamed under him, body bowing up into his as he forced an earth shattering orgasm from you. He drew up to admire his handiwork, your blood dripping down his chin.

"What a beautiful sight." He licked up the blood still wetting your shoulder. It wasn't terribly deep, but it would probably scar. He hoped it did.

Your fingers dug into his shoulder as he kept fucking you, he needed to cum. His fist hadn't been sufficient the night before and when he went out to look for a woman all he saw were pale imitations of you. None of them had even made him hard and he'd gone back to his tent completely out of the mood.

"I'm gonna cum." He growled, "Gonna mark up your insides just like your outsides." He leaned forward until his arms touched the ground, even as his orgasm built he made sure his arms were under you, keeping you from the hard ground. He pressed his face into your hair and was bathed in the smell of your sweat and natural scent. It sent him over the edge, filling you so much and so hard his balls ached. He could feel you tighten around him as your body gave one more climax to him and he smiled. "That's it, cumming for me like a good girl." He kissed your forehead and stayed still there until he felt the blood drip onto his arm. He got up, holding you close as he fetched the hemostat powder he kept in case he ever hurt you accidentally. He poured it onto the wound and you groaned. "Hurts." You hissed. "Might have gone a bit deeper than intended." He pecked your lips and began cleaning the wound and wrapping it with the powder in place. "I'm off till the day after tomorrow." You told him, he gave you a look of surprise. "Reward for making a breakthrough." He nodded. "You'll stay then?" "If you are okay with that." You moved to his lap and he held you. "Always, little mouse." He buried his face in your hair and breathed, imagining what his life might have been like if he had been an ordinary man, having you as his wife. He wasn't sure he could even have children as he was now, altered and made into a machine of war. Either way, he had you here with him, cuddled up in his lap and that was more than a man like him could ask for.

[teddy06writes]

Tired...

Alfie Solomons x gn!autistic!reader

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, me struggling to describe my headspace accurately

Summary: You're not having a great day. Alfie does his best to remedy this.

{This is so incredibly self indulgent its not even funny}

{Also send alfie requests?}

"Treacle I'm home! Where are you love?"

It took two tries before your mouth caught up to your mind and you were able to call out, "'m in the den."

You could hear his footsteps drawing closer, with Cyril's plodding alongside him. Alfie took one look at you, lying out on the floor in front of the sofa, and knew that something wasn't right.

"What's going on my dove?"

"I-" Your voice faltered, and you craned your neck to look up at him, desperately searching for some answer you could give him without saying 'everything'.

"That's alright, you just take your time, eh lovey?"

Cyril padded over to you, sniffing at your outstretched hand for a moment before settling down beside you. You ran a hand over his fur letting out a saddened sigh.

Alfie moved over to the sofa, plopping down with a grunt, "'scuse me, for not joining you, treacle. 'S just with me sciatica I might not be able to get back up again."

With your free hand, you reached up, grabbing for his hand. He gave it to you easily, running the rough pad of his thumb over your knuckles.

You stayed there for a few long minutes, staring up at the nothingness of the ceiling and trying to arrange your thoughts into something coherent enough to share with your husband.

Eventually, you clambered up onto the couch, tucking yourself under Alfie's arm. He squeezed you tightly against his side, pressing his lips to your hair for a long moment, waiting patiently.

"I just- I feel so slow today... like I have to build up every thought letter by letter. And I couldn't get any of my work done cause I'm so tired.... and and my brain doesn't work right cause I know it's all my head but I can't get it to go away-"

"Now hang on one second, petal," Alfie said, interrupting your rambling, "Your brain is not wrong."

"But it doesn't work right!"

Alfie shook his head vehemently, "No, no, no, it just works different- and that ain't your fault treacle, eh? It's just them fucking worms fault, yeah?"

You let out a huff, thinking back on the conversation you'd had with Alfie so long ago now, where you explained that sometimes it felt like there was something else in your head, poking around and making you think differently. He'd taken the metaphor and ran with it.

"I'm just tired of it- of all of it," You let out a sigh, trying to worm your way further into his side, "'s like the only thoughts I don't have to work for are the ones that are making me feel worse..."

"Listen to me, petal," Alfie said, threading his fingers with yours, and squeezing your hand to invite you to do the same, "All them lies those bloody worms are tellin' you, just ain't true. Right? So listen up you in there, you fuckin hitch hikers, you stop tellin' my boy your fuckin lies or I'll- I dunno, evict your sorry asses. yeah?"

You let out a huff of a chuckle, "Alf..."

You could practically feel him beaming into your hair, proud of himself, "Right, i think they got the message, don't you love?"

"Loud and clear." You nuzzled into him once more, giving his hand three rapid squeezes.

Alfie pressed his lips to your hair one more time, "I love you too, treacle."

~~~~

Enjoy this fic? Support me on kofi :)

[megalony]

You Keep Me Safe

Okay, this is my first imagine for S.W.A.T and it's for Luca, I just had to get this idea out my head. I hope you'll all enjoy it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @loveyouamory

Swat Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: While out with the kids, someone tries to take (Y/n) and Luca's daughter. When they go to Swat and Luca finds out what happened, he isn't pleased.

Enjoy.

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

A smile graced (Y/n)'s lips as she looked around the park, keeping an eye out to see where the kids had scarpered off to.

She could see Lottie sat on the swings on the other side of the play park while Jake was sharpening his skills on the climbing wall, trying to see how fast he could make it up to the top. He was definitely taking after his dad.

(Y/n) kept her eyes on the pair of them while she headed to the baby swing and gently eased her one year old down into the seat. He immediately patted his hands down against the plastic bar in front of him and started to kick his legs. Babbling happily as the pacifier dropped and hung round his tummy since it was clipped to his top.

"Here we go, baby." She began slowly pushing him back and forth, kissing his head every time he swayed back towards her.

It had been a while since she had brought the kids to the park, just the four of them. Whenever they went out with Annie and Deacon's kids, they ended up walking along the beach or heading around town. And when Luca had a day off, they usually ended up on the park closer to home where there was a track for running and training.

After a while, (Y/n) lifted Billy from the swing and set him down to his feet, staying close as he plodded in front of her. He wasn't the best at walking yet, he kicked his legs out straight rather than bending his knees, but he was surprisingly fast.

She followed him over to the smaller, plastic climbing frame that was more for toddlers and more his height.

"Wanna go down the slide?" Jake jogged over to them and held his hand out for his younger brother, grinning widely when Billy took his hand.

He lifted Billy up the steps and guided him over to the slide, sitting the toddler between his legs so they could go down the slide together. The sight made (Y/n) smile and she snapped a quick photo, noticing just how much both boys seemed to resemble Luca in lots of little ways. From how their eyes creased when they smiled to the way their noses crinkled when they laughed.

"Didn't dad get stuck on the slide once at the play centre?" Jake tilted his head to the side, looking over at (Y/n) quizzically while she made sure Lottie was okay on the zipline in the corner.

She looked back at her boys and grinned, thinking hard about what her nine year old was referring to.

"Oh, yeah, aunt Chris had to help him get out of there." A smile lit up (Y/n)'s face at the memory that thought provoked.

She could remember Luca panicking in the play centre. Everyone told him he was too tall and broad to go down the slides, but he wanted to go with the kids because Jake wouldn't go anywhere without at least one of his parents. And (Y/n) had been pregnant at the time. Luca went down the slide and ended up stuck halfway down. Chris had been the only one in the group slim enough to help him out.

(Y/n) had honestly thought she might have to call Hondo or get the emergency services to break the slide and free her husband. What a sight and event that would have caused.

(Y/n) folded her arms over her chest and watched the boys go down the slide another two times before Jake started playing hide and seek with Billy. The toddler started to squeal, slamming his feet down as he trotted around the bottom of the slide.

Leaning back, (Y/n) looked across at the zipline but her smile morphed into a frown when she couldn't see Lottie there anymore.

Where had she got to now?

She held her hand out towards Billy and leaned down to take his hand, guiding him with her while she nodded for Jake to follow them.

Her eyes cast around the park, looking between the other parents and the few kids scattered around running from swing to swing with glee. What was Lottie up to? Where had she disappeared to? (Y/n) liked to keep them all within her sights in case they wandered and tried to talk to strangers or ended up falling off of something and hurting themselves.

Jake was an accident prone and Lottie was a drifter living in a daydream. It wasn't the best combination without parental supervision.

"Where's Lottie?" (Y/n) gave a tug on Billy's hand and smiled as he looked around as if he could spot his sister any quicker.

A shiver crawled down (Y/n)'s spine at the shrill scream that tore through the air and her gut knew that was her daughter.

She spun on her heels and looked around, unsure where the noise was coming from and she could barely control her breathing enough to scour through the play park to find her daughter. Her eyes finally locked on a familiar crop of hair and the red and purple polka dot dress she had gotten Lottie into this morning. As quick as anything, (Y/n) leaned down and scooped Billy up from the floor and headed off in a sprint, Jake right at her side, neither of them sure what was happening.

The panic (Y/n) felt seemed to flicker off in all directions, sparking different thoughts and questions.

She could see Lottie, she was laid on her side in front of the metal fence that surrounded the perimeter of the park. She was inches away from the gate which was hanging open, the hinges creaking awfully and grating through (Y/n)'s ears when she got closer.

"Baby what happened?" (Y/n) turned and stood Billy in front of Jake who reached down and held him by the shoulders so the toddler wouldn't try and wander off. The boys stood a few feet to the left, still close enough for Jake to reach out and hold his mum's shoulder if he felt the need.

He watched his mum go down on her knees in front of his sister, waiting for an explanation as other parents started to look in their direction.

(Y/n) could feel her heart hammering away in her chest and all the blood seemed to fizzle out of her hands and feet and flood her chest and stomach instead. Adrenaline fueled through her abdomen and made butterflies crawl up her chest when Lottie howled.

The five year old pushed up from where she was lying on the floor and immediately crawled onto her mother's lap. She bound her arms around (Y/n)'s waist and burrowed her face into her stomach, sobbing so loudly and sharply that (Y/n) felt as if she was the one screaming instead of her daughter.

"Baby what's the matter, did you fall?"

Leaning down, she pressed her lips against the top of Lottie's head and curled her arms around her. But she didn't like the way her daughter was trembling against her.

"T-the man…"

"What? What man?"

When she didn't get a response, (Y/n) leaned over and gripped Lottie beneath her arms. She hoisted her up and moved her so she was sat on her knees instead with one hand on Lottie's waist and the other rubbing up and down her back.

The little girl was taking shallow, bubbling breaths, mixing between crying and screaming which was starting to put (Y/n) on edge.

"Sweetie talk to me, what man?"

"D-don't know… t-the man asked me t-to go with him." Lottie feebly pointed behind her towards the gate that was beginning to slow to a stop, vaguely creaking on the old rusted hinges.

(Y/n)'s head snapped up and she looked around, but she couldn't see any man close by. The only people outside of the playground was an older couple walking their dog and a young mother with two children headed down the path towards the park. Whoever the man was, he had clearly left in a hurry which made (Y/n) suddenly feel worse.

He must have been running at some speed to disappear across the grass or down the path and out of sight. Why had be asked Lottie to leave with him? What did he want with (Y/n)'s daughter? What had he tried to do to her?

"I said no, a-and he pulled my hair." Lottie lifted her head and moved a shaking hand to the right side of her head.

Terror ransacked (Y/n)'s body when she realised there was a small scratch of blood on the side of Lottie's head.

Her hands reached out and cupped her daughter's face, tilting her head down so she could look at her properly but it felt like ice cold spikes were cutting through (Y/n)'s chest. There were at least three scratches along Lottie's temple that went up into her hairline. The two plats (Y/n) had braided into her hair were now coming loose and looked obscure like Lottie had been dragged through a bush.

Whoever it was had tried to grab her by her hair to make her leave. He had scratched her head and pulled on her hair so harshly a clump of hair had come loose.

Someone had tried to kidnap her daughter.

"What happened to your hand?" (Y/n) asked quietly when she noticed Lottie's left hand was starting to swell. When she reached out to try and touch it, Lottie pulled back with a howl and cradled her hand to her chest.

"Trapped it i-in the gate, when he grabbed my hair… mummy I s-said no."

Tears rolled down (Y/n)'s face before she could stop them. She pressed her lips together so tightly her upper lip started to cut against her teeth and she swiped her hand across her face, wiping away the tears.

If Lottie hadn't tried to say no or if she didn't reach out for the gate or make a fuss, she would have been gone by now. (Y/n) would have been on a frantic search for her daughter. She would be scouring the park with her boys, desperately trying to find Lottie and if the man had a car, the possibilities of what could have happened were endless.

The man had fled. (Y/n) wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He had gone, he wasn't going to terrorise her children any longer. But now they had no chance of finding him. He could try again. He could try and take another child. He could see Lottie in the street or in a different park and try his luck. He might get her if he tried again.

Each breath (Y/n) tried to take hitched higher and higher until she was barely breathing at all and her sight was fading into tunnel vision.

Her arms bound around Lottie and she attached her daughter to her chest, holding her with one arm while her other arm looped around Jake. She stood to her feet, tugging Jake with her who kept his hands on Billy's shoulders, guiding the oblivious toddler along with them.

"Mum?"

"We're leaving." Cold tremors rattled through (Y/n) as she watched Jake closely as he picked Billy up so they could move faster.

"Are we going to see dad?" Jake whispered, unsure whether he was okay to talk or whether his mum was on a mission and was going to go mute in her state of panic.

"Yes. Stay close, stay right next to me." (Y/n) was grateful that Jake clipped Billy into the chair so she didn't have to set Lottie down.

She didn't know what to do.

This had never happened before. None of the kids had ever been hurt or almost kidnapped like this. It was a lucky escape that the stranger hadn't run off with Lottie and that she hadn't gotten hurt more than this. (Y/n) had all three of her children safe and relatively unharmed, but she couldn't stay here. They had to leave. They had to talk to the police.

They had to talk to Luca.

Was this why (Y/n) always felt safer going out with Luca?

It was no secret that no one gave them a second look when Luca was with them. He was like an omen. Almost six foot tall with a broad muscular frame and he was always near his family, looming like a shadow that no one wanted to mess with.

Would that man have tried to take Lottie if Luca had been down here with them? Of course he wouldn't. Luca was a threat, he was built and muscular and could give anyone a run for their money in a chase. He was a member of Swat, Luca could outrun most people and give a good chase and he knew how to tackle someone down and restrain them. If he was here he might have been able to find whoever had done this.

(Y/n) felt Jake lean his head on her arm and move closer to her side, suddenly mute and afraid, feeling as small as a mouse. His boysterous, outgoing personality died down immediately and he tried not to shake as the two of them were almost running towards the car.

Someone had tried to snatch his sister. What would his mum have done if they succeeded? Would the police have come down and done a search and rescue for her? Would his dad and his team have come down to the park to search for Lottie? Would they have found her? What would happen in their family if they didn't get Lottie back?

***

"Hey, look who's rolled into town." A smile lit up Chris's face and she held her hands out at her sides when she spotted familiar faces wandering through the gym.

She sped up her steps towards Jake who was walking in front, pushing the pram with Billy who looked like he was either waking up for a nap or about to go take one.

'Look at my nephews,' was on the tip of her tongue and about to roll off, until she noticed the look on the nine year old's face. He looked panic-stricken. His eyes were sunken and rapidly darting around the squad base as if he didn't feel safe or didn't know what to expect. Not like he had been coming here since he was a baby.

And when Chris looked towards (Y/n), she could tell something was off with her too. (Y/n) had tears stained down her face and her eyes kept adverting down to the floor like she was too nervous to look Chris in the eye. Her right arm was wrapped around Lottie who was visibly shaking, tucking herself into her mother's leg like she wanted to disappear. And Chris realised the five year old was quietly whimpering and was shedding hundreds of tears.

"What's wrong?" Chris leaned down and let Jake barrell into her and bind himself against her front like he was seeking her protection.

Chris considered herself close to everyone on the squad, but she was especially close to Luca. He was like a brother to her and they were close enough that Chris was godmother to all three of his children.

"Is Luca around? I know you're busy, but I- I need to speak to him."

"Yeah, yeah he's in the back." She pointed behind her before she looked between Jake and the push chair. "Wanna show me your skills in the ring, little man?" She looked down at Jake and pointed to the boxing ring up ahead, Jake usually liked to spar with anyone on the team who would let him when he came to visit.

He gingerly nodded, still clinging tight to her even as she tried to guide him over to the ring and moved the push chair so Billy could watch them or doze off to sleep, whatever the toddler preferred.

"Hey, my troop's here!" A grin spread across Luca's face and he clapped, jumping with his next step as he jogged ahead of Deacon when his eyes set on the boxing ring and saw Jake. If his eldest was here that meant all three kids would be here. That meant (Y/n) would be here.

(Y/n) locked her eyes on her husband but she gasped and jolted forward when Lottie let go of her hand and bolted. The five year old got a burst of energy from somewhere and surged forward, making a beeline for Luca.

He bent down and stretched his arms out, not getting a clear view of his daughter before she barrelled into him like a bowling ball trying to knock him down. Her arms bound around his neck and she slammed into his chest, deadlocking her legs around his waist, clinging to him like a monkey. And Luca obliged, curving his arms around her as he stood back up.

"Hey girlie… what's wrong, why the tears?" His lips attached to her cheek, but his broad smile began to fade when he realised Lottie was crying. Her face was hot and sticky with tears and she started to gasp and mewl into his neck, unable to catch a proper breath because of the tears streaming down her face.

When Luca tried to lean back and get a proper look at her, she hid her face in his neck which made him frown. He could feel his heart fluttering against his ribs, thudding out a fast paced beat as he wondered what was going on.

Whenever the kids came to the squad they were all excited and bubbly and loud. They would find Luca and hug him, then they would filter around to see the team and try out the gym equipment or wait for Luca to show them something cool.

But right now, Jake was barely interacting with Chris in the ring and Lottie was crying and clinging to Luca. She usually squealed and talked his ear off and dragged him round, running on an endless bout of energy. She didn't hide away in his neck or cling to him like this unless she was ill or frightened.

His hand cradled the side of her neck and he gently swiped his thumb across her cheek, trying to look at her before he gave up and looked ahead at (Y/n).

He didn't like the tears staining her face, the panic he could see in her eyes or the way (Y/n) had both arms bound around her waist like she was trying to hug and comfort herself.

Luca took a quick look behind him to make sure Chris was alright with Jake and he peeked over at Billy, satisfied the toddler was dozing off and not upset or panicked like the rest of their family. Luca headed over towards (Y/n) and the moment his arm was stretched out towards her, she moved.

She tucked herself into Luca's side, binding her arms tight around his waist while her face meshed into his chest. She didn't care about the scratchy Swat shirt he was wearing or the way it brushed against her cheek and nose. She couldn't find the will to care that the rest of the team were looking over and people passing by were starting to stare at them.

All (Y/n) cared about was having Luca in front of her and wrapped around her. The feel of his hand squeezing her hip, the touch of his lips against the top of her head and his steady breaths in her hair that he was trying so hard to control.

"Baby, what's happened?" Luca's voice was quiet, the words whispered into her hair.

He had his daughter crying into his neck and his wife glued to his chest, both shaking, both clearly rattled and upset and Luca had no idea what the problem was. He didn't like not knowing things and being out of the loop, he had to know what was going on so he could fix things.

He danced his eyes around the squad, noticing a few eyes glancing their way and he could see Deacon frown and dip his head down, silently asking if everything was okay. The blank look on Luca's face told him he had no idea what was happening.

His fingers squeezed (Y/n)'s hip and he held her that little bit tighter, kissing her temple to try and coax her to talk to him.

"A man tried to take Lottie." (Y/n)'s voice shuddered and came out breathless as a shiver tore down her spine and seeped into Luca's body.

His muscles went rigid and he tensed up in front of her, gripping her waist tighter as something dark crossed his eyes. His head tilted to one side and his eyes narrowed while his lips quirked as if he wanted to smile in utter confusion. Who would do that? Why would they do that? What exactly did that mean?

He leaned back, gripping (Y/n)'s hip and using it as leverage to nudge her back just enough so they could lock eyes. She could see the confusion and the panic pooling in those blue eyes and it made her heart drop down to her stomach.

"Take her? What does that mean, take her? Like walk off with her or what?"

"She said no but… babe, look at her head, he grabbed her by her hair. He almost ripped her hair out to drag her with him."

As swift as anything, Luca's arm retracted from (Y/n)'s waist so his attention could turn to their daughter.

His hand cupped the side of Lottie's face, his thumb brushing across her cheek as he fought to lift her head from the crook of his neck so he could check her over. Sorrow danced through his eyes while anger plastered across his face when his daughter's watering eyes finally looked up at him and a broken mewl left her lips that had Luca's heart shattering into a million pieces.

His eyes flitted across her face and over her head, noting the scratches on her scalp, the blood spots on her temple where her hair had been forcefully ripped from her scalp. He saw how her plaits were ruffled and pulled apart and how some of her hair was in knots and tangled up from her ordeal.

When Lottie carefully unravelled her arm from around her dad's neck, she held her trembling hand out to him. Letting him look at her swollen joint that flared with a biting pain whenever she tried to touch it.

"Did he do that?" Something dark laced in Luca's tone and (Y/n) was quick to shake her head.

She had seen Luca when he got defensive and protective over his family and those close to him. But that was nothing compared to this. She had never seen him so riled up and furious like this.

"She trapped it in the gate, trying to get away." (Y/n) rung her hands out in front of her, letting her nerves fizzle down to her hands to try and calm herself down. "I- I know I should have called the police, but he scarpered, I didn't even see him, Luca. He vanished. I didn't know what to do-"

"No, it's okay, you came here." When Lottie dropped her head back onto his shoulder, Luca reached his hand out and cupped the back of (Y/n)'s neck, reeling her back into his chest.

His lips smothered her temple and he closed his eyes, trying to take a second to calm down before he exploded.

Someone had tried to take his daughter. Someone had hurt his child and frightened his family. He wasn't letting them get away with this, he was going to find who did this.

"Alright team, gather up, we got a case."

Hondo's voice broke through the air and (Y/n) couldn't help but clutch tighter at Luca's back, pushing herself into his chest like she was trying to merge them into one person. She knew what that meant. She knew coming down here meant taking Luca away from the team and he was busy, his job was high profile and demanding. (Y/n) didn't want to detain him or distract him from work, she just had to talk to him so she didn't go out her mind and seeing him put the kid's minds at ease, especially Lottie.

"I- we should go, you're busy-"

"No, no… Cortez." Luca lifted his head and nodded at the Captain when she was about to walk past.

He knew the anger was overriding the panic written across his face and he knew the Captain could sense it when she walked over. She was familiar with Luca's family, she got on well with (Y/n) and she always said family were always welcome to drop by the squad. And right now, Luca's family needed to be here, they needed help.

"Everything okay Luca?"

"Cap, someone tried to take Lottie. Can you get an officer down here to do a sketch and take a statement? He got away and I want him arrested, now." This squad was part of the police. He knew Cortez could get hold of a uniform officer and have someone come down here to talk to (Y/n) and the kids.

They would feel safer staying here around people they knew and trusted. Someone could talk to Lottie and Jake and try to get a sketch out there, they could have uniformed police searching round the park to find whoever this man was who thought he could terrorise Luca's family. If not Luca would be out there in five minutes scouting round for the man who did this.

He watched the way Cortez took a deep breath, her hands moving to her hips as she bit down on her lip but she nodded quickly, reassuringly. This was a family unit and they took care of each other.

"Of course, you can all come to my office, I'll make some calls." She took a few steps back to let them talk, noting Chris who was stood with the pushchair next to her and her arms around Jake. Keeping the eldest tucked into her chest to keep him calm while his parents talked.

Luca tried to smile, but he knew what this meant. He had to finish his shift, they had a call to go on and he was still at work. But with any luck, they would all still be here when he came back and if not, he would be able to head straight home after this mission. They would all be safe here.

"You go give a statement, I'll come get you as soon as we're done I promise." His thumb brushed across (Y/n)'s jaw and she leaned into the touch, trying to stop herself from crying any more.

She nodded and held her breath when Luca stole a kiss from her lips. She gave his shoulders a squeeze and gave him another lasting kiss before she looked over at Lottie, tucked into his chest.

"Baby," He murmured softly, dragging the pad of his finger down Lottie's cheek to gain her attention. "You go with mum up to the big office, yeah? And when I'm finished at work, I'll come right back to you baby, okay?"

Lottie lifted her head but kept both arms deadlocked around Luca's neck, her lower lip wobbling as she looked at him.

She wanted to stay with him.

Lottie wanted to stay with her dad, he would keep her safe. He always kept them safe, that was his job. He was forever telling them that his job was to take care of people and protect the city. Now he could protect Lottie. She didn't want to go anywhere if Luca wasn't going with them, she wanted to stay right here where he could keep her safe.

"No, you come too. Please, daddy?"

Tears welled up in Luca's eyes but he tried to push them aside. It took a lot for him to cry, especially when he was on shift. He didn't want the rest of the team to see how badly his heart was breaking. "I won't be long. You go with mum and be a brave girl for me-"

"You keep me safe!" She all but whined, letting out another sharp cry when Luca leaned close and pressed his lips to her temple.

That was what he was trying to do. He was trying to keep her safe, it was all he wanted to do. He wanted to protect and look after his family and having them here talking to the police was the best way to do that.

"Baby, you're safe here, that's a promise. Stay here with mum and when I'm finished, I'll take you all home. I love you."

Luca took three shallow breaths against Lottie's temple and pressed a dozen kisses to her cheek before he leaned forward to let (Y/n) take her. If this was left to him he would crack and end up staying with them, but the team was waiting for him. And he wouldn't be much help talking to the police, he hadn't been there when it happened. His temper was already about to overflow and being around the police was going to make him explode and want to go out there looking for the one responsible for all of this.

(Y/n) gave his shoulder a squeeze but when she tried to hold Lottie, the five year old deadlocked her hands around Luca's neck and belted out a scream.

It was a noise that caught everyone's attention.

All eyes tuned in on them, everyone walking past came to a stop and all the voices ceased into silence so they could observe what was happening.

Luca tilted his head back, unable to hold off the tears any longer. He reached behind his neck for Lottie's hands and carefully unhooked her arms from his neck. He took a few steps back, kissed her palms and let go so she couldn't latch onto him any more.

He had to go. She could cling to him as soon as he was finished. As soon as he got his family home, all the kids could latch onto him and he wouldn't let them go. Lottie could sleep in their bed and Luca wouldn't sleep, he would stay awake looking out for her and protecting her to make sure she stayed safe.

"Daddy no! Daddy!"

A horrible banshee screech errupted past Lottie's lips and she screamed until she could barely breathe and stars danced in front of her eyes. She flopped over (Y/n)'s arm, kicking her legs, stretching her arms out and flapping them in Luca's direction, but he shook his head. He had to let her go talk to the police and calm down, he had to get this shift sorted so he could take them all home.

"Go." Luca pointed (Y/n) in Cortez's direction and turned sharply to face Chris and the boys.

His hand dragged along his face, wiping away the tears and dragging down his jaw before he bent down in front of Jake. The nine year old suddenly looked like a toddler, stood there frightened and panicked in Chris's arms.

"Go with your mum, tell the police anything you remember, and then I'll come and get you all. Are you okay?" His hands found Jake's arms and he rubbed up and down and kissed his temple.

"Scared, dad."

"That's okay. You're safe here, we'll all protect you. Go with Captain Cortez, and I'll see you soon." He murmured a soft 'I love you' against Jake's temple, reeling him in for a hug.

He kissed Billy's temple, thankful his youngest was just about asleep, despite Lottie who was still screaming for Luca.

His eyes followed his family, expression turning to stone as Cortez led them down the corridor to take them to her office. (Y/n) was struggling to keep hold of Lottie who was wriggling and fighting and crying out for Luca. Jake was shakily walking beside her, pushing the pram to keep Billy safe and within their sights. And Cortez had her hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders, trying to both comfort and guide her away from all the prying eyes.

A cringe tore through Luca's body and his shoulders hunched when he heard Lottie's feeble screams continue to wrack through the gym like her voice was purposely following and reaching out for him.

"Luca?" Chris tried to reach out for him but she took a step back when he twisted round.

She stepped away, hands retracting to her sides when Luca slammed his foot into the bench and gave such a powerful kick that the metal bench flipped and crashed into the boxing ring.

His hands ran up and down his face, wiping away the tears that wouldn't stop. He could feel his eyes stinging and turning red and a dark rouge tainted his face and slithered up his neck that was tense and throbbing. Every breath made his chest ache and tense but he didn't feel like he was breathing at all.

"He tried to take her." Venom spat through his words and his head snapped in Chris's direction but his eyes set on the figure looming behind her.

Hondo. Watching from the sidelines, unsure whether to approach and try to calm Luca down or just let him ride it out.

His hands balled into fists as he stormed towards the computer room where the rest of the teams were gathered, ready for their briefing that should have started five minutes ago. He felt Chris reach out for his shoulder but he shook her off and his steps halted when Hondo reached an arm out in front of his path, cutting him off.

"Luca, take a minute, calm down."

Calm down. How could he calm down? How could he control his thoughts, his feelings and his raging emotions when his daughter was screaming for him and his wife and sons were scarred and terrified? How could he compose himself when all he wanted to do was find the person who had done this to them?

"Some fucker just tried to kidnap my daughter. Once I've got the bastard in custody, then I'll calm down."

He pushed past Hondo and stormed into the room like a hurricane not to be trifled with. The sooner this was over, the sooner his family had talked to the police, then the sooner he could take them home and look after them.

But Luca wasn't going to calm down. He wasn't going to be satisfied or calm or at ease until this sick idiot was locked up in custody.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - First Pet

@wolfstarmicrofic January 24, word count 746

Every day for the past two weeks, Remus had been stalked on his way to and from work. His stalker knew exactly when he’d leave the flat or the school, then from out of an alley or around a corner he’d appear. Remus had tried running, he’d tried shouting, he’d even tried squirting water at him, but nothing worked, the little, scruffy, black puppy always found him. 

“Hey, Mr Lupin, your puppy is waiting outside the gate,” Gavin piped up during personal reading time. Remus looked up. 

“It’s not my, oh, never mind,” He moved over to the window and looked out at the sad puppy eyes staring back at him. He warred in his head for a few minutes before he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he came to a decision. “Is anyone going to dob me in if I bring a puppy to class?” A chorus of no’s sounded around the classroom. “Do not misbehave while I’m gone,” He warned them, he didn’t have to, as all the students in his class were amazing and as usual the best behaved in the school. 

He’d taken his big coat out with him and hurried across the paved court at the front of the school. As quietly as possible, he opened the wrought iron gate and whistled for the puppy. The puppy came plodding along, tripping over his too-big feet. “Hi,” Remus breathed as he stroked the scruffy puppy for the first time. He picked him up and bundled him into his coat. The puppy was so light. Remus hurried back into the warmth of the school. 

“He’s so cute!”

“Can he come in every day?”

“He’s such a good boy,” Remus’s students gushed. The little puppy was having the time of his life, going from student to student before settling under Remus’s desk for a long nap. 

Somehow, Remus got to the end of the day without anyone finding out about the puppy sleeping under his desk. Remus put his coat on and tucked the puppy down the front, holding his little butt to keep him from slipping. 

“Oh, Mr Lupin,” Ms McGonagall called out, just as he was about to walk out of the door. 

“Yes, Ms McGonagall,” He turned his head and smiled pleasantly at her.

“Don’t forget it's parent's night on Friday,” She reminded him.

“Of course, Ms McGonagall,” He said, forcing his smile wider. He turned to leave again. 

“Oh, and Mr Lupin,” She called after him again. He stopped walking. “Please refrain from bringing your dog into class again tomorrow.” Damn it!

“Yes, Ms McGonagall.” Finally, she let him leave. 

Their flat was only a short walk from the school, and he knew just how Sirius was going to react when Remus showed him the dog. 

“OH MY GODDDDDDDD!” Sirius squealed when the puppy jumped into his arms, putting his huge paws on Sirius’s chest so he could lick all over Sirius’s face. “Remus, I love him!” Sirius said, wrapping his arms around the wriggling pup. “What’s his name?” 

“He doesn’t have one yet,” Remus told him. The puppy jumped off Sirius’s lap and began exploring the flat, his enormous paws making soft padding sounds as he did. 

“What about Padfoot?” Sirius suggested. 

“No, that’s totally lame,” Remus scoffed. 

“Alright,” Sirius pulled a face at him. The puppy was snuffling around making a terribly loud noise as he sucked in air, smelling everything in front of him. 

“Snuffles?” Sirius asked, and before Remus could say anything, the pup had launched himself at Sirius and was licking him again. 

“Snuffles?” Remus said. It was almost as bad as Padfoot. The puppy jumped off Sirius and landed in front of Remus, plopping his little butt on the floor as he looked up at Remus, wagging his fluffy tail. 

“Yay, Snuffles,” Sirius cheered, and Snuffles ran back over to him. 

That night, Remus’s stalker ended up in bed with them. But only after the bath, Remus insisted he needed and took up far more room than a little puppy should in a kingsized bed, but he was so damn happy that Remus couldn’t find it in his heart to tell him to get down. They slept surprisingly well, Snuffles between Remus and Sirius, snoring softly. “We’re keeping him, right,” Sirius asked quietly, stroking Snuffles’s head. 

“Yeah, I think we are,” Remus smiled at him, leaning over and kissing him before turning off the bedside light and snuggling down to sleep. 

[fastcardotmp3]

welcome to dot drops something that's been sitting in her tumblr drafts for 4 months Saturday I hope you enjoy your visit mwah! Steddie; Ballet AU; Dancer!Steve; mentions of cancer treatment; 1.5k words

Dress rehearsal is supposed to be a mess.

That's the point of it, really, to get all the mistakes out of your system and start the actual show run with a clean slate. Or at least, that had been the point of which they'd all convinced themselves when Steve was the one performing.

Bad dress meant good show, or so the old adage went, and so at least there was some ease of worry with the collective understanding that it won't happen on the night within the company.

That was the case when Steve was a student, when he was an apprentice, even during his time in the big leagues at Joffrey, but right now? At the end of a truly abysmal dress in this run-down theater on the edge of a town from which he'd once run away?

Steve is not the performer. He's the guy in charge.

And so he spirals.

He'd never wanted to be a director or an instructor or the head of a studio like this. It had never been in his plans. Steve was a man of action, where the people who do these jobs are the brains behind the operation.

Steve knows how to work hard, how to force his body and even his mind into submission until he gets the steps just right, but this? These past six months back in Hawkins temporarily helping out?

(God, please let it be temporary.)

He's not built for this. He's sitting center stage after everyone has left with only half the house lights to illuminate his misery and he's not. Built. For. This.

Not built for being a mentor or a leader or a role model; not built to handle the strenuous nature of his mother's legacy; not built to carry the name she's made for herself as a teacher and a choreographer and a shaper of young dancers.

Steve's not built for it!

They'd had a shitty fucking dress.

"Hey, uh, you gonna be a while? I kinda need to close up for the night."

The voice echoes across the empty space, bouncing off the high ceiling and straight up to land on the Marley floors at Steve's feet. The stage isn't built for dancers, much like Steve isn't built to be here, so they'd had to pull up the floors from the studio and drag them halfway across town just to roll them out here.

"Hello? Are you, like, alive up there?"

Steve sighs. "Yeah," he calls back, catching sight of the figure talking to him at the back of the theater, the young guy who runs the place and who Steve met a grand total of three days ago. His name is Eddie and he dresses more like he's running a music venue than a local community theater, but he's mostly stayed out of Steve's way so far. "Sorry, I'll get outta your hair."

"Sure," Eddie says, but he's just sort of leaning against the back wall by the window to the sound and lighting booth without an ounce of urgency to him as Steve drags himself to his aching feet and lugs his three separate bags of show stuff onto his shoulders.

There's an energy to an empty theater, one which has held a performance and one which now holds the ghosts of that performance, which tugs at the anxieties sitting buried deep beneath the more immediate ones.

Fears about his mom's health, about what will happen to the studio if she doesn't win this particular battle, about what will happen to him.

There's an energy here in the creak of the steps which lead down off the front of the stage and there's an energy to the plod of Steve's sneakers up the long, racked aisle between the seats.

There's an energy, but it's also not empty, is it.

"Hey, good show, dude," Eddie says, pushing off his wall as Steve grows nearer. "Like, talented kids you've got there."

Steve scoffs before he can help himself and then pinches the bridge of his nose in a grimace for not being able to help himself.

"Uh, yeah, thanks," he grits out, thinking about his bed. Thinking about how he never made time for dinner and he has to be here early again tomorrow.

"Wow, resounding confidence on this one," Eddie snorts, and when Steve opens his eyes it's to genuine amusement, genuine curiosity in the tilt of a head and furrow of a brow.

"No, just," he shakes his head, "you should see 'em when they're really on their game, y'know?"

Eddie hums, and when did Steve come to a stop right in front of him? He's leaving. He has to leave. Go home. Think about all the spacing corrections he needs to fix tomorrow and run through with the girls before show time.

"Bad dress, good show though, right?"

Steve startles. Maybe a little too visibly because Eddie is actively holding back laughter at the sight of him.

"What, I've worked at a theater for four years and I'm not supposed to pick up a thing or two about the ballet?" he snarks good-naturedly. "Caroline, the lady who did your job before you, she was a chatty one, taught me everything I know about Giselle."

It's a knife between the ribs. It's a soothing sort of heat, like from a roaring bonfire.

"You--" he clears his throat, "you know Caroline?"

"Highlight of the job honestly, before she retired," Eddie shrugs.

"She didn't retire."

"Oh. She...?"

"Chemo," Steve doesn't know why he's saying it all so willingly, why after months of trying to run the studio without having to talk about how's your mom doing, sweetheart? he's opening up to this stranger with the curly hair and curious eyes. But he knows her. He's-- Well, he knows her. "I'm just here to-- to fill in until she can come back. So."

Eddie is studying him now. Curious eyes turned intelligent, knowing, sad with the weight of realization.

"You're the wonder boy," he says on a breath like oh, I get it now.

"The what?" Steve balks.

"Her kid," Eddie says like it's simple. He's leaning against the wall again, like he's not planning on getting back to work anymore, "she was-- Shit, man, she loves the hell outta you. Oh, you should see my son, he's in Les Corsaire this season! Oh, my boy, he's just gotten promoted to soloist, he'll be a principal in no time! Oh, the talent on him, the--"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Steve cuts him off, a half-hysterical laugh bubbling up out of his chest in the process.

"You should tell her I say hi next time you see her," Eddie isn't remotely deterred by having his little, lilting performance derailed. There's a softness to him that deserves a smaller space, walls less prone to echo.

"I will," Steve nods. His bags grow heavy on his shoulders.

"And you should chill out a little bit," he says, this time with the kind of glint to his eye that needs a bigger space, needs to be up on the stage to the point where it has Steve floundering, "y'know, about the the shitty dress that, between you and me," he leans in conspiratorially, close enough to feel the heat of his breath, "wasn't really all that shitty."

Steve sucks in a breath.

It strikes him somewhere old, the reassurance, somewhere young deep inside of him. The comforting from a mother that if he just works hard enough he’ll land that double tour in fifth some day soon, the unbroken promise that she would never give him special treatment as the son of the studio owner, but that she would never hesitate to reward him when he’d earned it on his own.

It strikes him because no one tells you how little reassurance the guy in charge is ever offered and it strikes him because it’s been such a long day and it strikes him because—

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

Eddie’s eyebrows lift high on his forehead and Steve sees it, the attitude on this dude that his mother absolutely would have loved in an instant. There’s a performer in there, even just in the brief interaction they’ve shared so far. There’s a spotlight pointing inwards and a show begging to be dragged out.

“No,” Eddie drags out slow and curious, “you offering, ballet boy?”

Steve needs a sounding board and he needs another set of eyes and he needs his mom to be okay and the show tomorrow to prove that he can handle this for her if she’s not, but maybe what he needs most right now, on the other side of a spiral in a dark and echoing theater, is this.

“Meet me at Benny’s in thirty,” he says simply as he makes his way for the door. “Since you’re such an experienced test audience.”

Eddie’s responding laugh is bright and his eyes glitter with curious amusement and maybe this is what Steve needs because maybe all of this is one big rehearsal at a big new life in and old small town.

And maybe this is his chance to make a mess of it. At least until the real show starts.

[doberbutts]

The Flying Trot is just as much of a specialized gait as the Double Suspension Gallop and it annoys the bejesus out of me when people mistakenly label it as "regular movement".

A GSD in movement at a dog show is actively pulling at the end of its leash, out in front of the handler, in a flying trot which requires more power and less energy from the dog than most other breeds in the motion portion of a conformation show. Sushi- my GSMD- by comparison trots slowly while next to me, loose leash or with any tension coming from *me*/her handler, while just sort of moseying along. A GSD is encouraged to hover just before breaking into a full run- a pace faster than most humans can keep up with which is why the dog is out in front instead of beside the handler- while appearing effortless and without overly tiring the dog.

This is because as a herding breed, the GSD is intended to be a living fence, circling the flock in the pasture for hours at this pace, without tiring or losing strength and stamina.

The GSMD is also a herding breed- but as cattle drovers they are intended more for pushing stock that actively fights back, and can be a bit hard on sheep as a result. As a multi-purpose utility farm dog created on mountainous terrain, their movement is more thoughtful and sure-footed. I have marveled many times about the way Sushi moves while on mountain hikes, how she quickly finds the safest path even in hazardous conditions, how following her literal footprints has gotten me through mud and ice I thought would leave us trapped or force us to retreat.

I've also watched her chase off coyotes who wiggled their way into my fences yard, and I've watched her cut sheep. She works totally differently to the GSDs I've seen on sheep, both in a sport sense and in everyday farm life. Her gait is specialized for her work, it just doesn't have a fancy name to go along with it.

Someone I know once said that a malamute and a GSMD could probably pull the same freight run, as both are breeds intended for heavy pulls in extreme winter conditions. But the GSMD would not arrive at destination anywhere nearly as quickly. This is echoed by Sushi's breeder, who quips that a swissy will do anything you ask, but don't expect it to be fast and don't expect nice scores on timing in sport venues. The purposeful and sureness of their movement comes at the sacrifice of their speed. They think about the best place to put their foot down, and they think twice if they've slipped or fallen already in the same area.

The GSD is intended to fly. And the GSMD is intended to plod.

Believe it or not, but I have had people ask me if something is wrong with Sushi or if she's hurt when they watch her move on slick or unsteady surfaces. I've had people, general dog owners, say that she looks like she's waddling or like she can't get her feet under her quite right. I've also had these same people shocked at the speed and efficiency she displays while out on a hike as she quickly picks the best path up a steep incline. They're surprised to discover that if they just follow her path, it's usually leagues easier and safer than any other way they could have chosen to go up or down.

Sushi broke her leg at 3 months old when she bit my intact dog in the testicles and he stomped down in his attempt to escape sharp puppy teeth on sensitive organs. I've had her to many, many specialists regarding canine movement including orthopedics, chiropractics, and rehabbers since then and all of them have told me that her joints look great and her range of movement is not impeded at all. She's passed her orthos with flying colors and several vets have confirmed that her movement is exactly what we'd want to see out of a giant breed. I did this actually to ensure that her broken leg as a puppy did not impact her as an adult as I was worried about the arthritis concern in a giant breed with a compromised hind, and mostly for my own peace of mind.

This does not mean that I think the GSMD is a perfectly healthy breed with no problems- epilepsy and bloat claim the vast majority of dogs within the breed, with arthritis and cancer as they age claiming the bulk of the rest. Sushi has some pretty gnarly allergy concerns which is why we stopped showing her and will be spaying her as soon as I find someone who will pexy at the same time, since the vet I work for won't. The COI is astronomical- with an average in the 50% range [note- 25% is the amount of relatedness for siblings] and while the breed is relatively long-lived for a giant [average 10-11 with 13 not being unheard of] it's still fairly short compared to other breeds.

Nor do I think the GSD is without its problems. I've had GSD. One lived to the double digits. One died from a boarding kennel's neglect. And one died young to bloat. HD and DM runs rampant in the breed. Cancer and bloat deaths are soaring. Allergies are everywhere. ED is becoming more and more common. And, what's concerning is that this is across the board. Everyone loved to hate on the show line GSDs but refuses to acknowledge these same problems exist in equally high numbers in the working lines.

I do working line and working bred dogs myself- GSMD have no breed split, and chihuahuas don't have working lines. My dobermans? Have all either been entirely working line or a working/show cross to try to bridge the gap of the breed split. I work my dogs in protection sport. 99% of the dogs that I encounter in my protection sport friend groups are working line dogs.

I watched as a friend got a working line GSD as his next service dog after his show line GSD needed to retire due to her age, and that dog turned out to have HD. Now he does malinois. I watched as a former friend who breeds entirely working line GSD began encountering HD and ED in droves in her progeny despite breeding parents free from these degenerative joint diseases. Now she does malinois. I watched as a friend bought a puppy from a breeder who found out the stud she used had forged papers and his dog is at high risk for DM and is likely going to lose all function in his rear, also working line. His other working line dog has such bad allergies she scratches herself bald and bloody regularly even on medication. I watched as a friend with a working line dog searched and searched and searched for another to fill her first dog's shoes as he retired from sport due to age and ended up getting a malinois because she couldn't find a breeding she liked that wasn't filled with these concerns. I watched a friend cycle through working line GSD after working line GSD because he couldn't find one that had both the working temperament he needed in his military contracts *and* decent enough health that the dog's body wouldn't fall apart the second they committed to working. Now he does labradors instead. I've watched multiple friends go back and forth on whether they're staying in the breed because of the health and temperament problems they're continuously encountering in their own dogs.

I got out of GSDs because I lost my Queenie in such a heartbreaking way and couldn't find a breeding I liked that didn't have a significant risk of the same thing. Of course, I hopped to a breed that has even more health problems in the doberman 🤪

Blaming the flying trot as showcased in the show ring when this is a systemic problem within the breed itself just makes you look both silly and ignorant to the true problems within the breed *and* to the differences in canine structure as they relate to a job. It sounds as uninformed as people still using the ELISA test on all dobermans and refusing to listen to a VWD clear genetic result.

And personally it doesn't really make any sense to me- a person who has had two different severe bilateral HD dogs, both of whom had extremely straight rears and tight ligamentation because HD is dependant on the shape of the pelvis and hip joints and not on the angles of the legs that stick out of it. Both of whom were also mixed breed rescue dogs obtained as puppies, with horrific allergies, and incredibly fearful temperaments.

[late-to-the-party-81]

If everything changes, will it stay the same?

AN: Here’s a little thing for @stuckygeekevents bingo, Square L3 - Howling Commandos. It’s a bit angsty, but I hope you enjoy it.

Beta'd by @zenaidamacrouras1

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and mood board by me.

Join my tag list here

Master list

Summary: After Steve’s one-man assault at Azzano, Bucky takes time during the walk back to allied territory to try and make sense of, well, everything. 

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

WC: 2k

CW: Trauma, Bucky Barnes has PTSD, Confused Bucky, Worried Bucky, The Howling Commandos are good bros, The Howling Commandos know what’s up, slightly insecure Steve, bittersweet ending (cos we know what happens next), smoking.

All he had to do was put one foot in front of the other. Easy. Something he’d been able to do since he was 11 months old apparently, but, at this moment, it felt so goddamn hard! However, there was no way on God’s green earth that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was going to ask for help. He’d walked into this war on his own two feet and he’d walk out of it too, torture or no torture.

Sergeant James Barnes. 32557038.

Rifle in hand, he scanned the group of men a few feet ahead of him, easily picking out the newly gigantic form that was Steve. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. What had those military pricks actually done to him? 

What had been done to him?

A hand clapped down on his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts, and Bucky turned to look up into the grinning face of Dum-Dum. There’s nothing like serving in the same regiment with someone else to speed up the friend-making process. Especially when you end up as POW’s together.

32557038.

“So that’s little Stevie, huh? You told me that you hadn’t had any head injuries prior to joining up.” Dum-Dum’s tone was light and teasing and Bucky couldn’t help but flush.

“Ah, fuck off. He was when I left. Not my fault some wacko military scientist pumped him full of super-steroids and turned him into Charles-fucking-Atlas.”

Dum-Dum snorted. “Guess it’s gonna take you some getting used to, though?”

Bucky shrugged, trying to give off an air of nonchalance. “Won’t make any difference to me. As long as what they did didn’t give him any brain damage, he’ll still be the same old Stevie underneath.”

Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own.

“Hate to break it to you, sport, but the way he came charging into that hell-hole? Well doesn’t seem like a man in full charge of his faculties to me.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to snort. “That? That wasn’t nothin’ new. That was classic Rogers - running in where angel’s fear to tread. The only difference now is that he’s apparently strong enough to not get his ass kicked from here to Sunday.”

“Well,” Dum-Dum conceded, “it must be a weight off your mind, an’ all. Gonna go check on some of the others, Barnes. Don’t push yourself too hard. Though suppose you do, little Stevie could always carry you.” His expression split into a shit-eating grin at the jibe and he ducked away before Bucky could gather himself to punch the guy in the arm.

Bucky’s lips twisted up wryly and he shook his head. Fuckin’ Duggan. Guy was a shit-stirrer of the highest magnitude, which coming from him was saying something. He had a point though, about not pushing himself too hard. To be honest, he wasn’t actually sure how he was still walking, given everything. To top it off, his brain still felt as though it had been chopped up and poured back into his head. 

32557038.

He tried to remember what had been being done to him, but it was a hazy blur of sleep deprivation and pain. He thought there had been needles. And a creepy little man with a round face and round glasses talking about hopefully ‘this one’ would survive the procedure.

Sergeant James Barnes.

He plodded on, keeping an eye on Steve as he walked ahead, but also trying to keep that gaze above the waist. The guy was wearing tights, for Christ’s sake and now he actually had an ass on him. It hadn’t been as bad when Steve had still had a pair of fatigues on over the top, but he’d loaned those out to one of the other survivors who’d had the misfortune to fall in a puddle. The pair of them definitely needed to have a talk, as soon as they got a semblance of privacy, but how Bucky was supposed to concentrate when all of that was gonna be standing in front of him, he had no idea.

“Sarge!”

Bucky whipped his head round at the sound of the familiar voice and tried not to groan. Morita jogged up to him, a grin on his bruised and dirtied face. The guy was great, even if he was sometimes a little too much.

“What is it, Morita?”

“That guy,” he jerked his head in Steve’s direction, “is really your… umm… friend?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a small smile. “He’s my friend. Grew up like brothers, I suppose you could say. Why?”

“Because he’s Captain-freaking-America.” Morita’s voice had dropped into a theatrical hiss. Bucky had often thought the guy could easily get a job on stage, once they all got out of here, of course. “And,” he continued, a small wheedling tone creeping in, “I wondered if you could ask him to autograph something for me to send home. My girl would be over the moon if I could tell her I knew him.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Jim. I don’t know if he does stuff like that. It’s not like we’ve had the opportunity to really talk yet, what with escaping and all.”

Not without you!

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, slightly chagrined. “Well, if you get the chance to ask. But no rush, or anything. How’re you holding up, anyway?”

“Alright, I suppose. A little achy and a lot tired, but I’m alive, so that’s the main thing, right?”

Morita reached out and squeezed Bucky’s forearm. “That it is, Sarge.”

Sergeant James Barnes.

They walked together for some time in companionable silence, and were eventually joined by Jones, who was carrying three cigarettes he’d managed to obtain from somewhere, and passed them both one each. Bucky shouldered his rifle and lit his, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as the nicotine hit him. “Damn that’s good. Thanks, Gabe.”

“No problem, Barnes. I think we all deserved one. Probably deserve a boat load if truth be told.”

“Damn straight, “ Morita chimed in, before blowing a plume of smoke into the air.

“You spoken to your buddy yet?” Gabe enquired.

“Umm, not really. I’m still a bit in shock, to be honest. Asked him for some space, and as loads of others were, are, buzzing round him like flies round shit, it wasn’t too hard to get away for a bit.”

Morita elbowed him. “He keeps looking over his shoulder at you, Sarge. Think he’s making sure you haven’t disappeared. Looking a bit like a lost puppy when he’s doin’ it too. I think you should go and walk by him for a bit.” Bucky thought Morita should just shut up…

“Yeah, Barnes. He did become a one-man army to save you. Least you could do is say thanks.” Gabe’s bright grin split his face as decided to join in with the ganging up. Fucker.

“It wasn’t just to save me guys. It was to save all of us. That’s Stevie through and through - always championing the underdog and doing what’s right, regardless of the rules. He hates bullies.”

“If you gotta tell yourself that, then you do so, but we all know it was ‘cause you was in danger that put a rocket up his ass. So with all due respect, Sergeant Barnes, go talk to your boy because he’s quickly becoming the most pathetic white man I’ve ever seen. And considering I shared a cell with Dernier, that’s saying somethin’.

Bucky took one last drag on his cigarette. “You two should go fuck yourselves, you know that?” He flicked the butt into the bushes as his two comrades just grinned at him. Then, with an eye roll, he stalked forward, catching up to where Steve was leading the rag-tag group of men back to the allied encampment. 

Steve’s smile as he realised it was Bucky coming towards him was so warm, Bucky felt as though another sun had risen into the sky. He barely noticed the others walking with them melting back into the main group of men.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said shyly.

“Hey, yourself.” Bucky felt just as awkward as Steve looked. During the rescue itself, Bucky had thought that what he’d been seeing was a drug induced fever-dream, but in the cold light of day, with his adrenaline levels returning to normal he could really take in all of the changes that had been wrought upon Steve. 

I thought you were smaller.

However, he wasn’t looking for those changes. No, he was trying to see beyond them to find the tell-tale signs of his Stevie. 

There was that familiar crooked nose, no weird science could apparently fix that. And Steve’s cow-lick - that lock of straw blonde hair that just wouldn’t stay in place, no matter how much of Bucky’s pomade Steve had stolen. However, the most important thing was Steve’s eyes. Deep blue with flecks of green, a colour he wanted to drown. His hand itched to take hold of Steve’s and interlace their fingers, but they couldn’t. Not now. As much as some of the others may suspect and tease him, there were some things that were definitely private. And that was assuming that Steve still wanted to hold his hand.

“You doing okay? You’re not too tired are you?” There was concern in Steve’s voice and it was enough to make Bucky laugh through the awkwardness of the situation.

“That used to be my line,” he joked. “But somehow, you’re now the motherhen. All two hun’red and sommin’ pounds of you. You better not get into any fights now, ‘cause there’s no way I’m gonna be able to carry your fat ass home.”

Steve went beet red - a look that was also familiar. “You think my ass is fat?” he whispered, aghast.

Bucky smirked. “ Well it sure ain’t skinny anymore, that’s for sure.” He received a glare and a set of pursed lips in response. “But, yeah. I’m okay. All the better for seeing you, pal, even if you won’t fit under my arm any more and you could probably bench press me.”

They walked next to each other, silence falling between them and Bucky was at a loss of what else to say. What were you supposed to say when the person who’s not only the centre of your world but who’s also supposed to be safely across on the other side of it, is actually standing by your side, having rescued you with his dramatically altered body. Nothing inside any of the fantastic stories Bucky had read in his youth had prepared him for such a mind-bending situation. “How are you doing?” was the only thing he could say.

“Buck…” Steve tried to speak, but his voice almost immediately cracked and he had to suck in a few deep breaths. “I was so scared,” he continued in a hushed tone. “So scared that you wouldn’t be there, or that you’d be…” He tailed off. He didn’t need to say it. Bucky was certain if Steve had been even fifteen minutes later there wouldn’t have been anything of him to save. He couldn’t comfort Steve the way he wanted, couldn’t hold him and pull Steve’s head into his own neck and let the pair of them cry the way they wanted, but he could lean a little bit to the side and let the back of his hand brush against the back of Steve’s. 

For a heartbeat their pinky fingers hooked together before falling away from each other again. However, that gesture was enough to both reassure Bucky and get his heart racing, just a little, before a sense of foreboding settled upon him again

“Everything’s changed, Steve,” Bucky mumbled, downcast. “And think you’re the least of those changes. I didn’t know it was going to be like this. I suppose everyone thinks they know, but nothing can prepare you. Not really. It’s brutal, in a way you can’t imagine, Stevie.”

32557038.

Bucky bit back a sob, and opened his eyes wide, willing the wetness gathering there to dry out. He wasn’t going to fall apart, especially not when he had Steve by his side, something he’d resigned himself to never having again.

The clap on his shoulder from Steve was nothing like the one from Duggan earlier. He could feel the warmth of Steve’s hand through his ragged top, his lean, artist fingers gripping him with surety.

“It’ll be alright, Buck. I got you out, and I’m right here with you. Til the end of the line.”

And as they continued to walk toward safety, Bucky just had to believe that was true.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds,

@crayongirl-linz, @mightstill, @nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318,

@scram1326, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989,

@kombatfather1796

[salty-autistic-writer]

"Hold On A Little Longer And Believe I'm Here To Stay"

(Third Chapter) Buck is humming a happy tune while stirring scrambled eggs. 

It’s morning and he’s in a good mood. Things are finally going back to the way they should be. They talked for hours. Told each other everything. They said I love you to each other. Tommy stayed the night. And now he’s still here. This time, Buck took care to wake up first and make breakfast.

He wants to take care of Tommy. Wants to shower him with love and show him that this is what life can be like. That all the pain of the past is a lasting scar, still aching, but it doesn’t mean it has to break open and destroy the future too.

Buck pours coffee into two mugs when Tommy plods into the kitchen, squinting into the light with slightly reddened eyes and hiding a yawn behind the back of his hand. Even moments after waking up, no, especially shortly after waking up, Tommy looks gloriously soft. Buck wants to run his fingers through his tousled curls, wants to bite his thick neck, and cling to his warm body. But he has to focus on the eggs right now, one lingering glance was enough to have them stick to the bottom of the pan, and Buck hastily stirs them around again.

His heart flutters when Tommy hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder. “You’re making me breakfast?” He asks, voice raspy.

“Of course.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to,” Tommy mutters into the crook of Buck’s neck, his warm breath tickling Buck’s skin.

Buck hums. “I wanted to feed you. Just like you fed me all those times.”

Tommy chuckles. He retreats, his warmth disappearing, and Buck resists the urge to turn around, reach out, wrap his arms around Tommy, and cling to him like a koala for the rest of the day. Instead, he puts the pan off the stove and pours two mugs of coffee.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, placing one mug in front of Tommy, who sits down, yawning again.

Tommy shrugs. “Not bad. Not that good either. Guess all the crying gave me sore muscles.”

Buck winces sympathetically. He knows from experience how draining and painful crying can be. And Tommy really did a lot of it. “Uh, I think there’s Tylenol in the house, if you need it?”

“No, I’m fine,” Tommy says, smiling when Buck hands him his plate. “This smells so good. Thanks. I have to hurry, though. I got a shift later.”

Buck frowns, his hand freezing on its way to his own plate. Tommy’s words surprise him. They also trigger another déjà vu. Buck is used to that by now. To that shiver that runs down his back and to his stomach dropping as if it’s riding a loop in a rollercoaster.

“You … you want to go to work today?” He asks, baffled. His thoughts immediately start to race. Only yesterday, he held a sobbing Tommy in his arms. Only yesterday, he learned about Tommy’s depression and his self-destructive thoughts. And now, just like that, Tommy wants to leave for work? As if nothing happened? It makes no sense.

I was looking forward to taking care of you for a day. Showing how much I love you. Until you believe me. Until you … stay for good.

Stay.

Tommy raises a brow. “Yeah. Sure. What else am I supposed to do? It’s not like I’m sick or injured. I can’t stay at home forever.”

Buck takes a deep breath. He can’t play this game. He has to say something. Don’t fuck this up, Buckley. Not again.

“Uh. No offense. But … after everything you told me. Don’t you think you should talk to someone first? Like - like A therapist?” He asks, fingers tapping against his knee.

Tommy tenses. Buck can see it. Can see it in the way his hand freezes with a fork of scrambled egg on its way to his mouth, his jaw grits, and his teeth press together. Even his shoulders hunch up. But Tommy tries to play it off. Chews the eggs and swallows before he answers.

“We talked, didn’t we?” He asks, clearly doing his best to sound calm.

“We did,” Buck admits hesitantly. But I’m not a therapist.

Tommy smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then you know I’m fine, Evan. I had a few bad days, but trust me, I had worse. Being here with you makes me happy. And I will come back to you after my shift, I promise. I just have to go back to my routine, alright? I need it.”

“Alright.” Still. It doesn’t sit right with him.

But he can’t force Tommy. He can only hope this isn’t a bad idea.

Tommy hugs Buck before he leaves and gives him a kiss. “See you later.”

“Be safe,” Buck says, leaning into the embrace, his heart pounding against Tommy’s chest. He doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this and forget the world. But that’s not possible. It’s never possible. Time passes. A life has to be lived. Which means they can never know what happens next. But he has to hope for the best.

Too soon, the door closes. Tommy is gone. Buck is alone.

He sits back down heavily, chewing on his lip. Maybe he should talk to someone about this. He really wants to. Feels the need to share all those thoughts and worries with someone. But that wouldn’t be fair to Tommy, right? Tommy didn’t give his consent. So Buck is alone with it. It’s okay. Tommy is going to be okay. He will come back. He will stay. And they will talk.

He thinks back to the moment Tommy told him about what he was thinking about at the bar and shudders. But … He’s not thinking about it anymore, right? Tommy said he’s okay now. Said the voices aren’t so loud anymore.

Buck swallows. This has to be enough, right? Tommy trusted Buck with his thoughts, his trauma, and his fears. Now it’s Buck’s turn to trust Tommy to tell him if something is not okay, right? Right.

Why does it feel so wrong then to let Tommy leave? * Tommy runs a finger over the smooth side of the helicopter and smiles. It’s not been long, but he missed this. Missed going to work. Missed putting on his flight suit. Missed flying. This is what he’s good at. This is where he can be useful. He can fuck up his life, he can mess up in his relationships, but once he’s in the air, he knows what to do, he knows the rules and all the steps he has to take to make sure everyone survives.

“So, is it true what I heard through the grapevine? Buck and you are back together?” Lucy asks when they are in the air, giving him a glance and a smirk. “Damn. That’s a massive love bite there on your neck.”

Tommy smiles, ducking his head and rubbing at the spot on his neck. “Yeah. We are.”

“I’m glad. You two deserve each other,” Lucy says.

Tommy frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“He’s a yapper, you’re a listener,” Lucy explains. “And I know he makes you happy. These past few weeks, you looked like a sad, wet cat. But look at you now. You have that sunshine Buckley-induced glow back on your face. Good for you.”

She pats his arm, and Tommy chuckles. “He does make me happy,” he agrees, his heart fluttering. He feels warm. Optimistic. For the first time in a long time, Tommy feels like things might be okay. He looks at the landscape underneath them, at the clear sky in front of him. His head is quiet. His thoughts are sorted. He can do this.

He’s okay. Everything is fine.

Everything is finally back to the way it should be.

Right? *

Tommy can do this.

He takes another sip of his beer, enjoying the way Evan’s shoulder nudges him whenever his boyfriend moves. They’re at a bar with Howie and Maddie. Now that they are officially back together, it means Tommy is getting invited too. He’s there without anyone wondering.

For some reason, they finally got to talk about the infamous Maurice incident that still makes Tommy wince since it gives him flashbacks to his childhood, when he hid in a closet from the mad rooster his uncle owned on his farm. But it also makes him smile. The situation was kind of funny. And he got to witness Captain Nash meeting his future wife. A memorable event.

“Who the fuck is Maurice?” Evan asks Tommy, his brows furrowing. “You didn’t tell me about a Maurice.”

Howie laugh-snorts into his beer. Maddie pats him on the back and chuckles.

Tommy smiles. While Howie explains, he watches how Maddie’s hand slips into his so naturally. They’re cute. And this is nice. It’s nice to be a part of their life again. After … Well. He didn’t really think he would speak to any of them ever again. Breaking up with Evan also meant turning away from the 118. And they turned away from him. Silence followed.

They don’t talk about it. And they don’t need to. It’s in the past. And Tommy gets the cold-shoulder reaction. After all, they are Evan’s family, not his. 

But Eddie … That stang. Tommy has to admit that to himself. It’s been a while since he connected that well with a friend. They had some things in common. It was nice to have someone to play basketball or to spar with. He misses Chris too. But well. This is life. Things like this happen. People stumble into your life. And some of them leave again. It’s normal. It happens. Tommy will survive.

He glances at Evan, who is still laughing about Maurice … and suddenly, he feels like something’s wrong. Dread curls around his heart. Squeezing like a cold hand. Making it harder to breathe. His mind tells him he shouldn’t be here. Tommy frowns, confusion joining the fear. There’s no reason to feel like this. Everything is fine.

Evan and he are officially back together. Everyone knows they are. No one acts strange about it. They just say, “Hey, it’s nice to see you. How are you?”

It’s the usual script. Tommy can do that. He can smile and say “great, how about you?” because he knows people like if you make it short. If you give them the chance to talk about themselves. He knows how to do this. He knows how to be the cool, confident pilot boyfriend who Howie knows from work and Maddie … Well, Tommy didn’t spend much time with Maddie. Not yet. There wasn’t the opportunity. But she seems okay with him dating her brother again. She said so. Everything is fine. They want him here. He can enjoy this. He can be happy. He can let go and laugh a little. The weeks of floating in grey fog are over.l 

Tommy forces himself to pay attention. To follow the conversation, even though the buzzing of the people surrounding them is too loud and the air is too warm, he feels like he’s slowly suffocating while keeping a smile on his face.

“Do you even know that Buck caused a flour shortage in LA because of you?” Howie asks, raising a brow. Oh. So the topic changed already? Tommy makes himself raise a curious brow. “Flour shortage?”

“Yup,” Howie nods seriously. “Bread. Heaps of bread. Then he baked every cake known to mankind. And then moved on to cupcakes. Scones. God. So many scones. I swear I still can taste them. Can still feel those dry crumbs in my throat. Please don’t break up with him again, Tommy. I can’t eat any more baked goods …”

“Chimney,” Maddie says pointedly, nudging him with her elbow.

“What? Buck can bake and cook for Tommy now, right, Buck?” Howie asks.

They all chuckle. Tommy joins in automatically. But he has a hard time following the conversation. Feels like he’s trying to push his thoughts through a thick wall. And on the other side waits a familiar abyss of guilt, pulling him down.

Tommy grits his jaw. All these weeks, Evan has been stress baking. Because Tommy left him. Because Tommy hurt him. Because he had to find a way to deal with being … abandoned. Again. Tommy’s chest clenches. He starts to feel sick in his stomach.

“Why did you break up anyway?” Howie asks.

Of course, this question would come eventually. Of course, they are curious.

“I panicked,” Tommy says truthfully. "I ran like a chicken because I was scared to commit." Evan takes his hand, his thumb drawing circles on Tommy’s skin. It helps. A little.

Howie hums. Maddie looks at Tommy with something like … recognition in her eyes.

“And now? Now you’re not panicking anymore?” She asks gently, tilting her head.

Tommy looks at Evan. “Not that much anymore, no. But sometimes I do wonder why he would want me back. I’m old and boring.”

“Come on now,” Evan says, shaking his head. “You’re a pilot and you know Muay Thai. You will never be boring.”

“Oh, so you agree I’m old?! I’m nothing but a hag to you, huh?” Tommy teases, almost feeling back to normal while focusing on Evan. On Evan’s smile. Evan’s eyes. The warmth of Evan’s hand. Evan’s love. He clings to that. This is real.

“I didn’t say that,” Evan says in playful offense. And oh, it’s almost a déjá vu to when they buried Billy Boils together. My own boyfriend won’t even kiss me. That’s not true. Tommy grins, wraps an arm around Evan, and kisses his cheek.

This time, it’s Howie and Maddie who look at them fondly.

Mission achieved, Tommy thinks, relieved. He can do this.

It doesn’t matter that inside, he feels like a rubber band. Being pulled further apart with every second. But still holding on somehow. Tense. Ready to rupture. And the thoughts just keep on coming.

You tell yourself you’re okay. You tell them you’re great. But how are you really doing? Are you still falling apart inside? Are the bad thoughts slowly eating you alive without you really noticing? Are you drowning again? Well, even if you do, don’t let them see. They are here to have fun, not to catch a glimpse of your messed-up mind. You don’t want to be a buzzkill, right? It’s not their responsibility to deal with your issues. It’s not their task to fix you.

Right. Tommy keeps on smiling.

Until they leave and go home.

When they reach the house, Tommy fumbles for the key, his hand trembling a little. Damnit. Did he really drink this much? Or is it the fear? He can feel it. Still lingering. Still trying to tell him that he should leave before he causes even more damage. Before things fall apart again. Good things don’t last. They don’t. They -

Evan puts a hand on his arm, frowning. “Tommy? Are you -”

No. I don’t want to answer that right now. I don’t know if I can.

Before Evan can finish the question, Tommy pulls him into a desperate kiss. Evan gasps and moans, his lips parting willingly to let Tommy inside, tasting like alcohol. His hands land on Tommy’s hips. He pushes. Once again, they stumble into the house, through the hallway, into the bedroom without being able to let go of each other.

Tommy’s back hits the bed. Evan climbs over him, hungrily mouthing and biting at Tommy’s neck, while pulling at shirts that cling to sweaty skin. “I love you,” Evan whispers in the darkness.

You do right now. Let me feel it. Make my head shut up. Make me feel alive again, Tommy thinks, and closes his eyes. *

Tommy can do this.

They are basically living together now. In Eddie’s old house (which still sounds a little strange). Tommy only occasionally goes to his place to get something. Or to have five minutes of pathetic spiralling without Evan having to witness it.

It’s better this way. To keep the ugly parts out of their relationship and enjoy the nice things together. Like this evening. They had dinner and are now relaxing on the couch. Evan is watching something on his laptop, his brows furrowed in concentration. Tommy is trying to read a book Lucy recommended to him - “Read it fast so we can talk about it at work” - but he keeps losing track of the story, the food, and the warmth, making him feel increasingly tired.

He’s almost about to doze off when Evan’s voice cuts through the silence and wakes him up.

“Tommy?”

Tommy blinks his eyes open. “Hm?”

Evan looks at him, chewing on his lip. “You would tell me, right?” He asks. “You would tell me if … if you weren’t feeling okay?”

Tommy frowns. He immediately feels alert. Why is he asking this now? Wasn’t I careful enough? “Yeah. Of course. Why?”

“You seem … distracted. Like you’re in your own world? I don’t know. I’m just worried.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy says automatically. “Just tired. You don’t have to worry about me, Evan.”

“Okay,” Evan says. He doesn’t sound convinced. “Just … Please be honest with me, alright? Don’t cut me off again. I’m here. If you need to talk …”

“I know,” Tommy interrupts, probably too harshly, judging by the way Evan winces. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I really just need a little rest, okay?”

Evan studies him for a moment, then nods. He turns back to his laptop. Tommy goes into the bedroom and curls up in bed, closing his eyes. He isn’t able to fall asleep. His mind won’t shut up. Grey fog rolls through it, and his thoughts are like thunder. You’re making him worry again. Worry that you’re not being honest. Eventually, he’s not going to want you anymore. You’re too damaged.

Tommy groans and reaches up to pull at his own hair, his breathing picking up as panic rushes through him in waves. No. That’s not true … Evan loves him. That’s real. Tommy should be fine. He should be happy. He shouldn’t be feeling like this. Shouldn’t be so scared.

You’ve been left by people who were supposed to love you before.

Tommy tries to fight it. He really does. But he’s been fighting his own mind for so long, he doesn’t know how much energy he has left.

With sudden calmness, he realises: He can’t do this.

When Tommy quietly steps into the living room, he finds Evan asleep on the couch. He looks so peaceful. Evan shouldn’t have to worry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone who can keep up with his positive energy. Not someone who he constantly has to worry about. It was a mistake to come back. It was a mistake to tell Evan about the grey fog. But Tommy can fix this. And he’s going to.

Tommy gives Evan a gentle kiss on the head. “I’m sorry,” he breathes.

And leaves.

When Buck wakes up, the house is too silent. He blinks, sitting up and looking around, his stomach sinking. Tommy isn’t there.

The bad feeling hits him immediately. Swallowing, Buck reaches for his phone and opens his chat with Tommy, typing: Hey. You okay? Where are you?

He sends the message and waits, impatiently, bouncing his feet and nibbling at a fingernail.

Tommy doesn’t answer.

Minutes pass. Turn into half an hour. Buck’s throat tightens. God. He can’t do this. He can’t just sit here and wait. Maybe … Maybe he’s worrying too much. Maybe he’s overreacting, and Tommy just went for a run, a walk, or wanted to get something from the grocery store. Right. But … What if Tommy is in trouble? What if he had like … a depressive episode? A bad one?

Buck’s chest clenches. He remembers. Maddie. Disappearing. Chimney's search for her. The ocean. He shudders, calling Tommy this time, pressing the cold phone to his ear, his own heartbeat a booming echo in his head.

Tommy doesn’t pick up the phone. Not the first time Buck calls. Not the second time. Not the third time either.

Buck swallows. His throat feels too tight. He can’t breathe right. A cold hand of fear and worry curls around his heart. It presses, until there’s no space left for calming thoughts. For hope. What’s going on? Where is he? Why did I have to fall asleep? He wasn’t fine. I knew it. I could see it. I … I should have insisted that he tell me what’s going on. Should have pushed again. Fuck.

Now Tommy left. What if he never comes back?

Another idea pushes through the panic. Maybe Tommy went home. To get something. Or to have time for himself? Maybe Buck should go and check. He grabs his jacket and keys, running to his car. *

Tommy is not at his place either.

Buck stands in front of the closed door, staring at the dark, empty windows, and he can feel himself spiraling. A panic attack, familiar fear rising like a tsunami wave, consuming him. Burying both hands in his hair, Buck starts to pace, unable to keep still, unable to think … What is he supposed to do now? He doesn’t know where Tommy went. He can’t run around the city, searching without a plan. He can’t …

He can’t do this alone.

The realisation is sudden and violent. Buck swallows. He has to call for help. He has to tell someone. Even if Tommy might be mad at him … No. That can’t be what he focuses on right now. Because if something happens to Tommy, Buck wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

He takes a few deep breaths, steels himself, searches for the contact in his phone, and calls. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Bobby? Hey, uh, sorry, I know it’s late. But I … I think I need help.”