#i can’t wait to check out the other fics on this list! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astermath · 11 months

Text

second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter @stevenose

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week.

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin.

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page.

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head.

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you.

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response.

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse.

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in.

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you.

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?”

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up.

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses.

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.”

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was.

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really.

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him.

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you.

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.”

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?”

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier.

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love.

#aster writes stranger things #stevemath #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #king!steve x reader #steve stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fan fic #steve harrington fic #steven harrington writing #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

3K notes · View notes

acowardinmordor · 6 months

Text

You Left Me - You Miss Me - Six

Sup, I finally wrote the next part. Mostly because of someone trying to find it via the fic finder blog, which gave me a big ol spike in anxiety about the lack of update.

Part One .... Part Four - Part Five

---

“Rob, no.”

“Don’t you tell me ‘no,’ Steven Dingus Harrington!”

“You can’t drive to Hawkins and kill the guy.”

“Oh yes I can! I'll take your bat with me!”

“Babe, you still don’t know how to drive, and I have work in the morning so I can’t take you.”

“I’ll figure it out on the way!”

She wouldn’t. She wasn't going to drive to Hawkins. She would definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent kill Munson if she had the chance and Steve didn’t talk her out of it, but Robin wasn’t going to leave him alone when he’d had a breakdown an hour earlier. She wouldn’t let him sleep alone for the next few days, and she would go to work with him in the morning, and she’d probably skip her Stats class so she could stick by him after work too.

It took Robin about thirty seconds to realize something had happened.

That was the gap between her opening the car door, and Steve speaking. All he said was “hey, Robs” and she cut off her ramble about chlorofluorocarbons. The same way he could tell by the sound of her stirring soup, or which color eye shadow she wore, she knew immediately something had happened.

She touched his arm.

And he had a breakdown in the college parking lot.

Steve updated the tag on the side of the box and put it back on the shelf. He was,technically, working. Robin was ranting and using a tie-dye shirt as a prop.

“You don’t need to crash our car trying to go kill a guy I’m not even mad at.”

“Ugh,” she flapped the shirt at him and slouched against the edge of the shelving unit. “Why not? Why are you not mad at him? How? I’m mad at him! He took the kids away from you! They’re annoying little shitheads but you loved them and he jus---”

“Rob,” he interrupted softly. He couldn’t get into that side of it right now.

“Sorry. Sorry. But you’re not this nice, Stevie. You’re wonderfully bitchy and petty and it’s one of my favorite things about you, and I don’t get this. He sucks! This was super shitty! Why aren’t you mad at him for being an asshole?”

“It’s not his fault.”

“He said it was his fault!”

Eddie blamed himself, and maybe it was his fault, but it didn’t matter. Not in comparison.

“Are you going to inventory anything tonight, or is this just going to be me?”

“No! And why are you working?”

Because if he stopped, if he let himself turn his full attention towards it, he was going to fall apart again, and stupid as it was, checking inventory used up just enough of his focus that he couldn’t drown. Steve flicked through the stack of size smalls, and wrote it down on the list. “Uh, because we’re at work?”

“We both work tomorrow tonight and there is no way that Mary or Nick have ever looked at the stock sheets in their life, they aren’t going to look tomorrow either. No one will know.”

“I’ll know.” He glanced up to make eye contact for a second, and she caved with a groan.

“If you were anyone but my soulmate, buddy…” She folded the shirt terribly, shoved it into the gap between the cardboard and the other shirts, and finally closed the box.

Letting the silence settle gave Steve a minute to breathe, and reset himself without the rising tension. She knew that, and waited until, unspoken, she knew he was ready to keep going.

“Steve.”

“I am mad, Robs. I am. You know that it’s.. At the kids, and at Hopper, and at myself for agreeing to this stupid idea, but I’m not mad at him.”

“Why does he get special treatment?”

Hearing how that sounded, he tried again, “No, uh. I’m mad at him, but, like, the same way you get mad when the grandma in the crosswalk is going really slow and then drops something and goes back, and you end up stuck waiting again even though you should have made it through the light before. Yeah, it sucks, but it’s not like grandma was doing it specifically to fuck with you. She’s just, you know, shopping or whatever.

“It wasn’t like there was a friendship there that he betrayed. He did something for his own life and it was sorta sucky, and it sucks for me, but he feels really shitty about it, so I don’t think he meant for them to, you know, vanish.”

Robin thumbed down the stack of Levis, whispering the count as she went. Three more sizes got counted before she responded.

“You carried him out of there. You saved his life.”

Steve hummed absently. “He wasn’t bleeding that bad. His trash lid kept most of them off. I panicked when I saw blood and picked him up.”

“And that doesn’t make you friends?”

“It’s not like I only saved him because it was him. Not like I stopped and thought about whether I should get the bleeding guy to the hospital. Lifeguard, remember?”

The other half of the thought, he bit back. He’d had nightmares about Billy after Starcourt. Dreams where he could have saved him, and didn’t. Where he could have saved Max from having to see that, having to recover from that. He saw Eddie bleeding, he saw one of his kids screaming, and there wasn’t a thought in his head. Just the need not to let it happen again. Not again. Not Dustin too.

He kept his eyes on the inventory form so she didn’t see that part.

“Still think it should have mattered more. Life saving creates friendships.”

“He was unconscious. I know you don’t know much about how guys act with each other, but generally both dudes are awake when they become friends.”

She snorted at his weak joke, throwing her pencil at him. It wasn’t anywhere near her.

“New record, champ, that one wasn’t even close enough for me to pretend to dodge it.”

“Ugh, I hate you.”

“Love you too, Robs.”

He got through a full set of kids dress shirts in peace, counted and listed. Then he pulled down the crate of kid’s dresses, next on the list to check.

The whole can of worms would tear open when, if, when Eddie showed up with something from the kids. There was no version of that day that wouldn’t end with him falling apart. If he skimmed them, if he burned them, if he read them, if he wrote back, if he refused to take them at all, it didn’t matter. He was going to fall to pieces.

If they wrote and it was real, if it was petty, if it was anger, if it was grief, if it was gloating he was gone, if it was begging him to come back, if it was proof that it was always fake, always a temporary placeholder until they found someone they actually like. The imminent breakdown was going to be bad no matter what.

Like those safety videos in school about seat belts.

Like knowing the car crash was coming, knowing it couldn’t be stopped, and knowing that nothing he did was going to make it any easier to bear. Slow motion, watching a car come -- a beat up old van come towards him. No time to put on a seat belt, no way to brace for it, just accept that it was going to happen and hope you survived.

Robin cleared her throat to get his attention, and Steve blinked back to himself.

“Did, uh, did you say something?”

Robin watched him for a minute. He let her this time. It was easier to let her see what he was feeling than try to turn it into words, and he needed her to let it go for now..

“I’m going to skip my bio lecture on Friday afternoon.”

“Birdie, you don’t--”

“You are going to call in sick at the skate rink. We are going to make snickerdoodles and brownies and the cracker bark thing, and order pizza, and we’re going to make ourselves sick eating too much, and we’re going to watch some random movie on mute and make up our own story and dialogue. Got it?”

“Got it,” he smiled.

And it wasn’t going to make it all better. Eating two pounds of butter in a day wasn’t going to make it easier when Eddie showed up, but it was like hitting pause on that video. Car crash was still coming, but he could look away for a while.

***

Steve clung to the pass shelf from the kitchen as the expected car crash hit him on Monday. John, always eager for the chance to throw someone out of the diner, looked over Steve’s shoulder. It was a nice moment. A nice little thought before he had to face what he’d agreed to. If he asked, John would throw Eddie out. Literally. Nice image, but not the one he got to see.

Instead, he declined the offer, and grabbed the plates.

“Gimme a minute,” he mumbled to Eddie, heading to the sweet elderly couple celebrating the birth of their second granddaughter with a leisurely breakfast. If he spent an extra minute talking to them, complimenting the polaroid of what seemed to be some kind of mashed potato swaddled in white and pink, it was to get a good tip, not because he was stalling.

Eddie hadn’t moved when he got back. He was a step back from the counter, stiff, holding a paper grocery bag under one arm, eyes trained on the ugly teal of the stool’s seat.

“Well?” Steve asked bitchily, “Did you bring milk and eggs and bread, honey?”

He put it on the counter, clutching the folded top hard, like he was making sure it stayed shut.

Like it was full of spiders or something. Mutual sentiment.

Steve grabbed it, tossing it onto the shelf where they kept personal belongings and the leftovers they’d called dibs on. He hadn’t expected Eddie Munson to be up to Franklin at eight am on a Monday. Eddie wasn’t a morning person. Steve thought he’d have a few more hours to brace. Now he had to deal with customers while that bag burned a hole in the back of his head.

Luckily, Rebecca was serious when she said he could get mean with guests if he wanted to. Today wasn’t a want. It was going to be a necessity.

Eddie was still standing there.

“You can tell them I got it, or whatever,” he tried to dismiss him.

Something that looked like the tortured remains of a smile flickered on Eddie’s face. He gave up after a second and nodded too many times. “Thanks. Thank you. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, right?”

It took a minute for Steve to catch up to the question.

“I haven’t said I’m going to answer them. Or open them. Or keep them.”

Eddie was quiet for a minute, still not looking up, and Steve’s Travel-Size-Robin was vibrating with the need to make him so they could guess what the hell he was thinking.

“Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday mornings?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Sure, yeah,” Steve gave up.

Eddie left, and Steve did the entire day’s front of house prep before Susan got in, trying to keep his head away from that damn bag.

***

Steve didn’t open it.

He fell asleep in Robin’s bed, grateful he didn’t have other work that evening, and doubly grateful when she made him eat some crackers and drink some water before they passed out for the night.

If he was waiting for the impact the day before, seeing Eddie again the next day was so unexpected that the crash whooshed past him without an impact. He didn’t sit down, and he looked a little rough, probably from driving to Franklin in the early morning twice in two days.

“Do you have…?”

“No? No,” Steve boggled at him, “How could I have anything for you to even -- No. Man, no.”

Eddie nodded.

Eddie left.

***

Steve stared at the bag instead of taking a nap before their shift in the stockroom. Didn’t open it, that was way, way beyond him, but he did manage to look directly at it, and it was only a few saltines, but he did successfully eat.

Robin, angel, light of his life, soulmate and perfect person got in the car after class, handed him a kinda gross protein bar that she stole from an athlete in her class who she didn’t like, and made him eat it.

She didn’t make him talk about the bag shaped elephant in their apartment, and she spent the entire shift explaining the way Ann Carson’s translations of Greek plays had totally shifted how people read them, making them more accessible, and how the push to do the same with Shakespeare was incredible.

When he went to crawl into his own bed that night, she grumbled, brought her favorite pillow, and climbed in after him.

***

Eddie walked in at quarter to seven, right after three four tops seated.

“No.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Eddie looked small, probably because he was speaking at a normal volume, sounding like a normal human, which ran opposite to how Eddie was in Hawkins. He also looked like crap.

“Why are you here, dude? You hate mornings. You don’t have to leave that early, I work until one.”

Eddie scrunched his face, but didn’t answer that.

“No?” he asked instead.

Someone at table six shouted ‘waiter!’

“I’ll bring your coffee in a damn minute!” Steve yelled back, half turning with the carafe in his hand.

“Steve?”

“Look, I don’t have anything for you. Nothing. You don’t need to waste your time. I haven’t opened it.”

“There’s more than one -- oh,” Eddie scrubbed over his face. “Okay. Yeah. Okay. Do-- Are you going to? Open it.”

Thinking about opening it made him want to run away to Canada.

Thinking about never knowing made him want to puke.

Whatever weird face Steve made was something Eddie could translate. He only raised his head for a moment, just long enough to look. But then he covered his face with both hands, taking a deep breath that shuddered on the exhale.

“See you Monday,” he said as a goodbye.

“Where’s my coffee?” the same guy yelled. Steve didn’t have the energy to deal with customers and whatever the fuck was going on with Eddie’s early morning emotional mess.

“Wait a second,” he complained to both of them at once. Steve grabbed one of the big mugs, the ones they used for the expensive hot chocolate, filled it with coffee, and set the pour jar of sugar next to it. He looked from Eddie to the cup, pointedly. “Don’t crash. Bring the cup back with you.”

The asshole yelled for him again, and Steve turned on the terrifyingly polite smile that Robin had helped him hone. Then he deployed it on the asshole at table six.

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

We are headed towards Steddie, on a path that will, hopefully, not feel like I brushed off all this to get there. However. Wow, they're hurting right now. You can't have Eddie's pov yet, it would spoil things, but. just. trust me. ow.

Still don't do tag lists. Once I know how many parts it'll be, this will go to Ao3, promise.

#You left me - you miss me #steddie #my writing #angst

793 notes · View notes

violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months

Note

A fluffy/ mild angsty valentines fic with Bucky where reader gets HIM flowers ( because of the whole guys don’t get flowers thing :((( ) maybe there’s some mutual pining and sweet confession? Like she gets the flowers for him because he makes some joke about not having had a valentine for nearly a century and she’s just like “absolutely not will not allow that >:(“ but he thinks it’s just a joke at first :(

Anyway thanks! Love you!

Bloom.

bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

“Are we almost done?”

Bucky looks so miserable, you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, we are. We just need flowers, and then we have everything on the list.”

He grabs the shopping cart and pushes it across the grocery store, determinedly marching in the right direction. You’re practically running to keep up with him.

“Which ones?”

You look at all the flowers, touching some of the petals gently as you decide.

“I’m not sure. What’s your favourite kind of flower, Buck?”

He looks at you with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

Now it’s your turn to look blankly at him.

“I’ve never been bought flowers. Why would I have a favourite type?”

You frown at him. The idea of Bucky never receiving flowers makes you much sadder than it should, but you’re trying to play it cool.

“Oh. Well… which of these do you like the look of the most? They’re going to go in the middle of the table in the kitchen, so they need to be bright. Give the room some colour.”

He circles the flower display a few times, looking around carefully. Eventually, he picks up a bouquet of tulips, all pinks and oranges and yellows.

“I like these.”

You smile softly, nodding your head.

“Good choice.”

You’re somewhat distracted as the two of you check out. You put the tulips in the bag carefully, glancing at Bucky every so often. He catches you looking, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You’ve been standing outside Bucky’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He knows.

He heard your footsteps, can hear your chest heaving, lungs working overtime. He’s just waiting for you to make your own decision.

Eventually, you do. After thirty minutes, you decide to just do it. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You knock.

Bucky swings open the door as if he’s been waiting for you, standing patiently on the other side.

“Breathe, honey.”

You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath. You exhale, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, you.”

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

You grab the bouquet from where you’ve leant it against the wall, holding it out to him.

He stops in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re… for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You inhale deeply, willing yourself to find some temporary courage.

“Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And no one has ever bought you flowers.”

He’s smiling now, soft and knowing.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

He says it so sincerely, so genuinely, that it makes you want to cry. You hand the flowers to him, grinning as he admires them up close.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise.

You and Bucky have always had a careful, consistent friendship. Ever since he first barrelled into your life, you’ve thrown tender smiles his way, nodding your head in acknowledgement every time he passed you in the hallways. He warmed to you, slowly but surely. Your kindness, your generosity, your genuineness - you’ve charmed him delicately, somewhat accidentally.

You’ve also been in love with him since day one.

You never thought to mention it - he’s healing, learning, growing as he goes, and you don’t want to halt his progress. So, you’ve pined from a distance, gently and quietly.

“Buck… will you be my valentine?”

He beams at you, the most luminescent smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that every year since I met you. Knew you’d beat me to it.”

You laugh, stepping in closer to him. He puts the flowers down carefully, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you, my valentine?”

You nod, already leaning in. He presses his lips to yours, and he swears he feels flowers bloom in his ribcage, bright and alive.

#be murphy’s valentine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fic

896 notes · View notes

kithtaehyung · 7 months

Text

and f*ck you, too (m) (teaser) | pjm

title: and f*ck you, too (m) (teaser) pairing: fuckboy assassin!jimin x assassin!reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; work rivals!au, assassins!au, enemies with benefits summary: you despise each other. and yet, you can’t seem to stay away. which is fine, since both of you are completely fine walking the line where it’s drawn. fic warnings: (smut warnings under the cut) language, violence, angst, blood/wounds (reader’s, jimin’s, and others’), cocky!jimin, cold!jimin, baddie!reader >:)), weapons: knives/guns, alcohol/drug mentions, reader has fast cars :))), ties to chairs, chains but who is shocked??, jimin has fast motorcycles🙄, angst, yoongi as a weapons specialist gets his own warning a ha ha, jimin looks too good in tanks, and without a shirt at all, this jimin is a warning in itself, did i mention angst? note: lmfaooooooo this is just assassins getting in each others’ ways with a generous splash of filth and a side of angst :)) WE ARE GETTING A PROPER JIMIN FIC, Y'ALL!! est. word count: 15-20k | teaser wc: 908 est. drop date: oct 2023 18+ taglist: sign up here (i check all blogs)

smut warnings: explicit scenes, biting, bondage (ropes, pillowcase), scratching, angst, slapping, hickies, body worship, piercing play, spit play, orgasm denial, pussy spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, face riding, slut/whore mentions, edging, oral (m/f rec), thigh riding, possessive but they won’t admit it</3, choking, angry sex, angst lol, hair/head pulling, protected/unprotected sex, praise kinks galore, easy access, cowgirl, hitting from the back, rough sex, spanking, teasing, creampie, chains (stay on!!!!), multiple orgasms, aftercare when it’s least expected👀

Glass.

Bullet casings.

So much broken glass.

As you listen in the scattered silence, you’re careful to skirt around the tiny shards making an ocean out of your villa.

Well. It’s now more of a wreckage than a beautiful seaside vacation home, but nuances mean nothing when you’ve only used it to store an eighth of your arsenal.

And your fucking pink McLaren that’s now face down in the nearest reef.

You are going to end this man.

“Come out, my love…”

Fuck him for double-crossing right when you were getting along.

At least, you felt like you were.

Maybe it was just a lapse in judgment, and the last goddamn mistake you’ll ever make around Park Jimin—assassin, playboy, sole occupant of the top of your hit list.

“Your target’s on the run, you know.”

Of course you’re fucking aware. But he won’t trick you a second time.

As soon as he gets a clear shot, he’s taking it.

And despite rivulets of sweat and blood running down your arm and a fresh gash on your upper chest, you are poised to do the exact same.

“Shouldn’t you be following them? Awhh, wait, your ride… What a shame.”

The gritting of your teeth almost gives you away.

Think.

Based on where you hear Jimin and the layout of your place, he’s somewhere around the foyer.

And hiding in an open hall next to your kitchen, there’s no way you can get him from where you’re poised.

So wait.

“What to do… Ah! I can call a taxi to pick you up! How does that sound?”

Wait, goddamn it.

Don’t fall for his shit.

Watch for any dark waves in the debris-riddled floor. Hold off until he’s in a good sight line.

Fuck, your wounds hurt.

Hot exhaustion warms your mouth as you wince, blood starting to harden along your slick skin.

“Or you can just let them get away. This would be Chance Zero, though, so. You’d end up getting a geo-bounty on your file… but it’s your decision!”

Breathe.

Geo-bounties aren’t too bad if they’re low.

Only when they evolve into Global status should you be worried. And that only happens if the Council deems it.

You’ve stayed on their good side… other than screwing up the missions Park Jimin has ruined.

“Come on, love.”

He sounds closer.

“Be a good girl.”

A lot closer.

Now you just have to wait until he… rounds the… corner.

…What happened?

Where the fuck did he—

Your body reacts before your mind does, ducking to avoid a strike into hard spackle.

Twisting, your forearm prevents the next swipe of Jimin’s blade as you retrieve your side dagger, and four boots trample the glass below in a violent dance of combat.

Above below swipe left dodge right parry parry lunge parry.

When you aim at his chest, your gun is quickly shoved, bullet firing into one of the last kitchen cabinets left standing.

And your opponent has the nerve to look appalled.

“You were gonna shoot me?”

All you do is tsk.

Clashes ring out again as you dart forward, and you go for a opening while mapping out how the hell you’re gonna catch up to your target before—

Fucking hell!

Chilling pain sears across your shoulder from the cut Jimin makes, and you half-stumble, half-crouch to avoid his killing blow.

Taking the risk and rolling across your favorite broken vase, you slide and fire again, the kickback hurting your arms like a bastard.

“Fuck!”

Finally.

Through slitted eyes, you can tell you just grazed Jimin’s thigh, and he collapses to a knee while you struggle to stand upright.

Crinkles of glass echo throughout the hall as you both haphazardly collect yourselves, with him breathing hard and you grunting through stinging pain.

Shit, he’s cursing like you’ve never heard before.

But you can’t let that distract you from your goal.

Up first, you aim your weapon just in time to face his expression.

Those wide eyes.

You have the perfect shot.

And yet…

You hesitate.

Time bends as you vascillate between decisions, your moral compass going haywire and refusing to align with any direction. Electricity fizzes and pops while another patch of your ceiling falls, but neither of you move.

Spare him. End it. Kiss him. Finish the kill.

Your heart squeezes the trigger.

And you fire at the light fixture above him before fast limping out to your garage.

Curses ring in the falling shards while you make your getaway, fingerpainting the walls with swift red strokes.

Get there get there get there.

Jimin won’t be far behind.

Ripping open the back door, you grit through the pain while swinging a heavy hand onto a glowing pad.

After the blooming beeps, you swipe in a password before hitting Floor, and find ponderous support on the door while you wait.

Breathe. Breathe. Holy shit, everything hurts. Breathe.

At your feet, the solid garage foundation slides open to reveal a car rising on a platform.

The other McLaren that Jimin didn’t launch off the nearest cliff.

Lamenting the leather interior already, you drag yourself to the drivers side with a series of groans, swiping a roll of wrappings and a couple gun magazines from a counter along the way.

Run run run.

He’s probably right behind.

In seconds, you’re zooming out of the driveway.

And with a bruised as fuck heart, you blast holes in Jimin’s motorcycle wheels for good measure.

tbc. :)

what do we think bc i already wanna fight this man lol | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you all for reading! if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, and messages are super super appreciated :D see you at the droppppp hehehe ⇥ masterlist ⇥ writing updates board

#here we gooo!#bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #jimin fic #jimin x you #jimin x reader #pjm fic #in which both parties are stupid and attractive and despise one another lol #bts smut #bts angst #jimin angst #jimin smut #ryenwrites #*latest #*ryenfictalk #*teasers

670 notes · View notes

viperbarnes · 2 years

Text

No Strings Attached

Ex!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

Warnings: smut! language, hurt, exes to lovers <3

Notes: this is one of my fave oneshots i've ever written tbh. i really love the trope of people breaking up, because of xyz issue, and then the person with xyz issue actively works to resolve or change it, but with no expectation of reuniting, just because they want to be a better person. so ye, that's basically this whole fic lmao

Words: 15,849

You make a sort of doe-eyed blank expression as you listen, that makes your building’s security guard duck his head a little lower into your line of sight and wave his hand.

“Ma’am?” You blink suddenly, snapping out of your spiralling thoughts and focus back on the man’s face.

“Huh?”

He smiles sympathetically and repeats himself.

“I asked if you had anybody who might come stay with you tonight? Super said he can’t get a hold of anybody who can change your lock…” You sigh and look around him at your door, it’s lock busted and breaking through the wood of the door.

You’d arrived home to find it like that, although the cops the security guy had insisted on calling said that it looked like no thief actually made it inside, probably got spooked. Seeing as none of your stuff was stolen or out of place, you’d have said they were right.

You run a hand over your hair and sigh.

“Uhm. Yeah. Yeah I do.” You nod your head, not actually coming up with a name off the top of your head, but you’re sure you’ll think of someone once you have a moment to breathe. The security guard nods.

“Do you want me to wait until they get here?” You smile and shake your head.

“Oh, no, no… it’s fine! I’ll be okay until then!” You assure him. You know he got paid for every hour he spent on the door, and not for any he didn’t.

He checks with you twice more before he leaves, and you shut your busted door behind him, slipping your side table in front of it in the meantime before you fumble through your bag for your phone.

You stare at your home screen for a solid two minutes, mind going over the people you’d feel comfortable calling, who you’d actually feel safe having stay with you overnight, and for the life of you, you can only come up with one name.

Unfortunately, this name belonged to your ex.

It wasn’t as if you and Steve Rogers hadn’t broken up amicably, or at least, you hadn’t ended badly, but for a moment you debate with yourself on if you really need to call anyone at all. You think about sleeping, knowing your apartment door was basically open.

You bring up his contact.

The first thing you see is a list of past calls and texts, the date signalling that the last time you’d called him had been almost seven months ago, and for a moment your eyes linger on that.

Seven months? It hardly felt like it, really.

You and Steve had met through work. You worked in the forensics at Avengers Tower, and so you’d occasionally see each other when the team had lab work to be done. It had been a slow progression for him to ask you out, and when he had, the two of you dated successfully for an entire year. Things were always slow with Steve, due in part to his schedule making it hard to really get anything done. If he wasn’t on a mission, he was resting from a mission, and the times you did go out or see one another were a lot less than you would have liked.

It’s why you broke up.

Steve was a great guy, the best you’d ever dated, but his work was his first true love and honestly? You required more attention than he could give. You weren’t needy exactly, but when you made a plan, you tended to expect to follow through. Steve’s last minute missions, or his cancelling and rescheduling was understandable in his line of work, and if had only been every so often, you’d have been just fine.

But it wasn’t, and you weren’t.

And so… you’d broken up. You’d explained to him that while you really liked him, you just didn’t mesh well together. He’d been understandably upset, but had told you he got it. You’d parted on good terms, with only a residual sadness lingering behind. Even now, you felt a small jolt of angst at even seeing his name written. Really, Steve was your perfect guy, and if he’d ever been around, you might’ve been able to experience more of that perfection.

You shake your thoughts aside and tap the call button, bringing the phone to your ear and waiting as the dial tone rings out. You can’t help but chew your lip as you wait, anxiety beginning to well up.

What if he didn’t answer?

What if he was on a mission?

What if he saw your name, and then didn’t answe—

“Hello?” You nearly gasp at hearing his voice, seven months suddenly feeling longer than before and you swallow thickly to remember why you were even calling in the first place.

“Steve… hey, it’s uh, me…”

“Yeah, I… I have caller ID on this phone.”

“Finally switch from the flip, huh?” You can’t help but shoot back, smile covering your features when you hear his warm chuckle on the other side.

“Yeah, it was time to change things up… Is everything okay?” Maybe he can hear it in your voice, or maybe he’s just that confused as to why you’re randomly calling him at ten on a Tuesday night, but you hear a note of concern in his reply that makes you want to curl up into a ball.

“Um… not really, no… I got home a little while ago and someone had tried breaking into my place—”

“—What? Are you okay? Did they take anything?!” You chuckle awkwardly at his immediate worry.

“Yeah, no— I mean, yes I’m okay, no they didn’t take anything.” You assert, and can practically see him letting out a breath.

“Uhm… I do have a favour to ask though, and I wouldn’t call if I had anybody else, but—”

“—Of course, whatever it is, just let me know.” You let out a shaky sigh and swallow again.

“The lock on my door is busted, and my super can’t get anybody in to fix it until tomorrow… I just… really don’t want to sleep here alone, with a broken door…” On the other side of the line you can hear keys clinking, and feel your tummy flop in dangerous ways.

“I’m coming out now. You want me to stay on the line?” You could fall to your knees and praise every god in existence for the special kind of beautiful Steve Rogers was.

“No, I’m okay, I just don’t wanna be alone later…” You cringe a little at how that might sound like a proposition, but Steve only hums.

“‘Course. I’ll see you in ten.”

When you hang up, you stare down at your phone for a few seconds.

And then you promptly drop it, head whipping around your messy living-kitchen space and quickly get to work tidying it to a presentable degree.

—-

Steve arrives almost exactly ten minutes later, the light knocking on your door followed by his voice.

“Hey, it’s just me!” He says, and you hurry to slide your end table out of the way, your door pretty much swinging open by itself.

For a moment you can only stare at him, dark blue jeans, white t-shirt, brown leather jacket. He’d grown his beard out since you saw him last, thick and golden and groomed just right to hit you in the lady parts. He seems fixated on you as well, though recovers far more gracefully, eyes dipping to look at your splintered door and he whistles.

“When you said it was busted, you meant it huh?” He asks, and you laugh, a little awkwardly, pulling the door wider as you usher him inside.

“Yeah… cops said they must have gotten scared off before they got inside. None of my stuff is missing or moved.” You explain, closing the door behind him, and when he sees you move for the table, steps forward to help you, looking at your makeshift barricade up and down for a moment when you’re done.

“Good. That’s good.” You look up at him again as silence falls upon your apartment, and find he’s already looking back at you. Realising you hadn’t even changed from work yet, and you’d cried a little bit after discovering the break-in, you attempt to smooth your hair down and wipe any potential makeup from under your eyes.

“Jesus, I must look like a mess.” You sort-of apologise, trying to play it off with a chortle, but Steve shakes his head, smiling kindly.

“Not at all.” Is all he says, and you hate the fact the completely non-committal sentence makes your belly flop again.

“Oh, uh, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? I think I have a six pack in the fridge…?” You gesture to your kitchen, but move for your fridge anyway, Steve shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows, shrugging his shoulders. You find the beer behind your salad, and pull it out.

“Well, I’m having one.” You tease, setting the pack on the counter as you attempt to pull a bottle from the plastic rings. Maybe you’re just too exhausted, maybe this particular plastic was just stronger than you, but it doesn’t budge and Steve steps forward, hands already out.

“Let me…” He offers, even as you let him take your chosen bottle from you, tearing it out as if it were nothing. It likely wasn’t, for him, and you swallow, the room feeling warmer suddenly.

“Thanks. Help yourself.” You nod to the pack, a little thankful he takes one too, placing the rest back in your fridge.

“I uhm, I might go shower and change, I haven’t even thought about that yet…” You gesture down at yourself again, and Steve nods.

“Whatever you need.” He tells you, and then points to your couch.

“Mind if I watch the game?” You frown, but nod anyway.

“Who’s playin’?” You both move over into your living room, and you quickly find and toss him your remote.

“Mets vs Giants.” He says, and you ‘ah’, watching for a moment as he flicks to the right channel, your eyes finding the score and you wince, turning back to him.

“Hope you don’t have any bets on your boys.” You say, faux-sympathy dripping from your voice. Steve gives you an unimpressed eyebrow, pointing at you.

“We’ll come back.”

“If it makes you feel better.” You tack on, but burst into a laugh as he rolls his eyes, making himself comfortable on your couch. You note with mild amusement he takes the same spot he would always take up, before you’d broken up. Apparently one of your couch cushions was just comfier than the rest.

You leave him there to go get cleaned up at last, and relish in the hot water as you do little more than just stand under it for ten minutes. Despite your stress from the past few hours, you feel oddly light, Steve’s sudden reappearance back in your life, in your apartment making you feel a little woozy, but only in a good way.

You try to tell yourself that it was only because your breakup had been so amicable, if he were any of your other ex’s you wouldn’t be feeling the way you do…

You dry off and dress quickly, throwing your hair up before stepping back out into the living room. Crossing your arms over your chest in some subconscious way of shutting yourself off to how damn good he looked, you take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing your beer again and tipping it back.

“Cops get the security footage from the hall?” He asks, one hand around the neck of the bottle he rests on his thigh, the other thrown over the back of the couch toward you, almost invitingly. You blink for a moment as you process his question and hum.

“Yeah. But it’ll probably get written off if the guy didn’t, you know, look straight into the camera or something. You know how they are.” Steve tears his eyes from the TV and looks at you with a frown.

“You get a case number? I’ll follow up tomorrow, make sure they—” Before you can really stop yourself, you cut him off.

“—Steve you don’t have to do that.” The blond shuts his mouth, and you can practically hear the words unspoken.

‘Because you aren’t my boyfriend’. For a moment you can both only stare, until Steve nods and looks away, his brow smoothing out as he relaxes, but the tick in his jaw tells a different story.

“Well, let me know if you need to…” You can’t help but smile a little, behind the rim of your beer, and you take another sip before turning back to the game.

The Mets make a comeback and you finish the night cursing under your breath. You weren’t a Giants fan by any means, but you made a habit of rooting for anybody going against the Mets.

Steve helps you pack away the light snacks and empty beer bottles, all the while wearing a smug grin, and you can’t even stay too annoyed. Smug and playful was always a good look on him.

As you put away the last of the rubbish, you yawn a little and check the time.

“I might head to bed… I’ll get you some pillows and stuff…” You announce, and ignore when he looks up at you in favour of making for the linen closet. You do however grab the pillow from your bed that you know he used to favour, and lay it all out on the couch. When you look up again, Steve is pulling his jacket from his shoulders, and laying it over the back of the opposite couch.

“Uhm, if you need to leave, could you just wake me up?” You ask, stepping back, and Steve frowns deeply, cocking his head.

“Leave? Why would I need to leave?”

“I don’t know… if you’re needed, I guess…” You shrug, shifting awkwardly and for a few seconds Steve’s face filters through a few emotions. Confusion, concern, offence, and then some sort of resignation.

“I— you know if you really needed me, I wouldn’t leave… right?” He asks, and you feel something stir in your chest. It isn’t exactly positive like all the other feelings you’d been having tonight, more like a sting of annoyance, of hurt and you purse your lips, shrugging again and looking to the side.

“I don’t know. You’re important, I’m sure people would need you a lot more than me.” You don’t mean to sound so passive aggressive, but you can’t help it.

He’d never made a point of making sure he’d be around before, the fact you even caught him on an off night is surprising to you. Steve’s brow dips and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off once again, pointing to the kitchen.

“Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge, I’ll make sure not to sleep in too much… goodnight, Steve.”

You turn on your heel and don’t wait for a reply, shutting your bedroom door behind you. You know he can still hear whatever you do perfectly, so you don’t let out a sigh, or groan at your own fat-headedness, instead you switch off all your lights and settle under your covers.

In seven months you hadn’t felt out of place once in your room, but now, with Steve sleeping in the next room, your bed suddenly feels all too big.

—-

Strangely, despite your pass-agg comments, after that night you and Steve actually begin speaking again. At first it was just his texted check ups, making sure your door got fixed, making sure you were alright, making sure the cops did their jobs… it was sort of nice actually, to be friends with Steve again. He’d even shown his face down in forensics. You know his lack of attendance, Nat, Sam or Bucky showing up in his place, hadn’t been coincidental post your breakup, but the first day he shows up to deliver evidence for testing, you almost sigh at how much you’d missed seeing his face down there.

You actually think you become closer than you had been before, platonically that is. Steve doesn’t seem to make any moves toward rekindling your romance, and honestly? You were just fine with that. Steve was a great guy, but you couldn’t deal with his schedule… even if he did seem to be around more these days.

You don’t ask. You don’t even really think about it, instead chalking it up to good timing and coincidence.

You were wrong though.

Steve clinks the top of his glass with Sam’s as the man passes him his refilled drink, and the three men, including Bucky, settle back down around their seats on the Tower’s balcony.

“So, hey, can I ask you something?” Sam clears his throat some, and Steve cocks his head, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“You and Doc… are you guys like… getting back together, or…?” The blond squints, his face scrunching up a little as he looks off, sighing some.

“We’re just friends.”

��Yeah, but I mean, you went from not talking at all to hanging out again.” Bucky chimes in, and Steve shrugs, eyes finding his shoes.

“I don’t think she’s interested anymore. If friendship is all she wants, it’s what I’ll give.” Sam and Bucky make eye contact, sharing a frown between them and Sam leans forward slightly.

“Sure, but man, you changed up your whole shit for her… You don’t even wanna try again?” Steve sighs and finally looks back up at them.

“It wasn’t necessarily for her… but she was right. How am I supposed to foster any sort of relationship if I don’t make time for it? What we do is important, but I have to be able to prioritise other things. It’s not fair on anybody in my life.”

Bucky hums. He for one was glad Steve had taken a slight step back from the Avengers. Not only did it mean Sam and Rhodey were given more chances to lead, but it had upped the pressure on everyone slightly, in a good way. Previously Bucky would have felt anxious going on a solo mission with another member who wasn’t Steve or Sam, but now he regularly went on ops with Wanda, his bonds with other members growing immensely.

He clears his throat and reaches out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder some.

“I know how you felt about her, but I think you did the right thing.” Steve gives the dark-haired man a long look and a soft smile, ducking his head.

“What was that thing your Ma used to say?” He asks, and Bucky frowns a moment, before his face lights up again in recognition.

“‘Some folk only bless your life so you can learn from them’.” He says, and Steve hums, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

—-

It’s late, you should really be asleep by now, but you’ve been lying awake for hours now. Springtime in New York made the night air warmer than you were used to, and the slightly hot feeling of your body was not helping.

You growl in annoyance and switch your vibrator off, tossing it lightly into the open drawer of your bedside table. Between your thighs your clit still throbs slightly, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself cum in the almost two hours you’d been trying, and your hand was going numb from all the vibrations.

You were damn near desperate. You needed to be fucked, good and proper and thoroughly. With only a moment's hesitation, you reach for your phone and tap out a text.

You up?

Steve: Is everything alright?

It’s fine. Come over?

There’s a minute or so where you see the three dots appear as Steve begins typing, before they disappear, and then reappear, only to disappear once more. You almost smile to yourself. He was unsure.

Come over, pleeeaaaseeee?

Steve: … Are you alright?

You huff this time, and purse your lips. You could be forward here and now, giving him an out, or you could wait till he arrived, which might be far less convenient for your pride if he rejected you.

I need you… please…

This time Steve doesn’t type and then retype his messages, instead you’re forced to stare at your read receipt for a full two minutes before a reply comes back, your body lighting on fire the second you process the four little words.

Steve: Be there in ten.

Anticipation builds in you like a storm, and you quickly straighten your sheets, spritz some perfume, fix your hair a little, and pull on a gown, all in time for the knock on your door. The sound is curt and tense and you swallow thickly as you hurry to answer it, sliding your locks back before swinging it open.

Steve stands once again in dark jeans, this time with a dark grey sweater on. His hair was slightly damp still, messy, and you figure he must have just gotten out of his the shower when you’d texted. His eyes find you quickly, a little wide, a little confused, and with all the desperation from the past two hours fueling you, you pounce on him.

You’re lucky he’s as stable and strong as he is, you throw yourself bodily at him, arms wrapping instantly around his neck, your lips pressing to his own hungrily and he returns in kind, one hand steadying you around your middle, the other tangling up into your hair at the back of your head. You almost mewl at the way his hand clutches at your scalp, and you let him walk you back inside, his foot kicking your door closed behind you.

You keep moving, until your back hits your kitchen bench, and you take the moment to pull open your gown, letting it fall to the floor as your hands move for his own sweatshirt. The fabric is quickly discarded, and you’re a little surprised to hear Steve’s groan at your skin on skin contact, his hands beginning to roam more adventurously now. You weren’t keen on messing around for too long, and you make quick work of his belt, letting him kick his shoes off before he shucks the jeans down himself, stepping out of them, all without pulling his lips from yours.

You sigh into his mouth as he captures your tongue with his own, bearing down on you intently, his hands holding you tightly against his own body like he was trying to pull you into himself. You let a hand drop from his face to the hardness against your abdomen and allow yourself to relish in the soft gasps Steve lets out when you pump your fist over him several times, before increasing your pressure, making him all out moan.

His lips fall away from yours, instead he trails sloppy kisses along your cheek and down your neck, pausing to adjust, widening his legs some. With your mouth free, you find the time to speak.

“This… this is just sex, alright? It’s not… it’s just sex…” You tell him, feeling how for a moment he pauses, and you dread it for a second when he pulls away a little to look down at you. His expression is unreadable, but he’s nodding soon, and you breathe out in relief.

“Gotcha.” Is all he says, and you’re forced to release his length as a moment later you’re hoisted up. Your legs wrap around him, even as you’re set on your countertop, and his mouth moves back to yours. It’s your turn to gasp when his hand drops between your thighs, fingers immediately dipping into the dampness at your core, a touch you’d been craving for too long.

“You really needed it that bad, you had to call me?” His voice is low, and you shiver. Steve’s bedroom talk was always amazing, and now, for some reason, the fact you weren’t even together makes it better. It felt dirtier, more obscene, and you nod, panting as he pulls his lips away from yours, his eyes falling to watch his hand slide from your folds.

You swallow, leaning back on the counter as he becomes more purposeful, two fingers prodding at your entrance, his thumb gravitating to your clit, already overstimulated. When he pushes his two fingers inside you, you let your head fall back and your eyes close, widening your legs even more to give him room to work as he begins slowly pumping back and forth.

“F-fuck…” You breathe, toes scrunching as his fingers move a little faster, curling them slightly to run along your g spot and you feel your legs start to quiver already. He seems to anticipate your squirming though, and uses his free hand to hold one leg, the other he keeps open with his own thigh, moving quicker now. A slower moment lets him insert another finger, and soon you’re clutching around his neck again, needing something tangible to hold on to as he strokes you to finish.

“Steve! Steve, fuck, don’t— please don’t— ah!” You try to catch your breath before you even lose it, but you only swallow down more air as you cum, your hips shaking involuntarily against his hand as he continues to ride you through it, thumb never letting up over your clit until your head lolls back once more.

You’re about to speak, praise him perhaps, when his fingers pull away, taking your hips instead and any words you have are punched out of you with the feel of his hands drawing you onto his cock. You scramble for a hold again, gasping and moaning at the same time as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

“Holy fuck…!” You whimper, Steve already curling his hips up and into you, all the while lifting you from the counter itself to bounce you against his standing lap.

He liked this, you remember, liked being able to hold you up all on his own, control the pace, control his movement and yours.

“That okay?” His lips move against your cheek and you nod vehemently, a hand carding through the back of his hair.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck, I need it!” You squeeze your eyes closed as he really starts setting a pace, and you feel that deep spot inside of you that hadn’t been touched in months begin to light up. Regardless of your relationship issues, Steve had always been good in bed, his body fitting into your perfectly, his desire matching up with yours similarly so.

“Yeah? You need it, baby? … shit, I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten honey, running over you warm and sticky sweet, and you can’t help it, you pout a little, nodding at his words.

“Please… please!” You whine. You know how much he loved to feel needed, in and out of the bedroom, but that didn’t mean your mewling was all for show. You’d finished once, yes, but you were so pent up you were still rearing to go and Steve’s cock pounding into you hurriedly was only spurring you on. You needed release and he was going to give it to you. Your mind always went a little hazy, a little blank when he’d have you like this, you’d do practically anything he asked, and he knew it.

“Come on, sweetheart, one more, wanna feel you squeeze me…” You whine again with his added words, his lips nipping your ear and you nod, face falling into the crook of his neck as he continues to pant and puff with effort. Your sounds start becoming shorter, more gasped and as he slows to level you with long, deep strokes, your orgasm rolls over you, gentler than the last, though powerful still, amplified by the feel of your cunt actually clutching, gripping onto something as your muscles tense and flutter.

Steve groans, keeps up the longer, slower strokes until you begin to relax again, and with little warning, pulls out. He presses his cock against your inner thigh, but pumps with one hand until he’s sighing airily, thick hot streams of cum streaking over your thigh and abdomen as you watch.

For some reason, all you can think about for a few seconds is how he’d never come on you before. Always inside you, condom or raw, and the change in behaviour confuses you for a moment, but you don’t intend on asking.

You both pant heavily, still partially leant against one another as you catch your breath, and you feel a slight awkwardness settle over you. Would things be weird now? Would he expect more from this? For a moment you have to admit it was nice being back in his arms, nice to pretend he was yours, but reality sets in and you cool off.

Even if he was still your boyfriend, he would never really be ‘yours’. Not while he shouldered so much of the world’s responsibilities.

Steve settles you back on the lip of the counter, and you jump slightly at how cool it feels against your bare skin. As you finally make eye contact, a pit opens in your gut. Steve after sex was always a sight to behold, his hair hanging in his face, his cheeks flushed red and his lips swollen and parted… it makes your stomach lurch in longing, and you quickly clear your throat, gently pushing him back so you can stand.

Finding your robe on the floor, you quickly pull it on despite the sweat covering your skin, and look back toward Steve, though you avoid his eye contact.

“Uhm, do you want to wash up before you go?” You know if sounds a bit harsh, but you’d made it clear to him before you’d properly gotten started that this was just sex. You couldn't bring yourself to expect anything more from him, and risk another broken heart.

Steve blinks, and you see a brief moment of hurt flash across his features before they harden somewhat, and he straightens, tucking himself back into his pants gingerly and collecting his sweatshirt.

“It’s alright, I… I’ll clean up at home.” He says, and you have to cross your arms over your chest at the tight feeling that begins constricting you.

“Okay.” Steve hesitates, looks at you a moment too long before he nods to the door.

“I’ll get out of here.” He says, sounding far more casual than he had a moment ago, as if nothing at all had just transpired between you, and you latch onto that ease, making it easier for you to play along too.

“No worries…” You trail him to the doorway, holding it open behind him as he steps through and turns around. His mouth is open, poised to say something but for some unknown reason you decide to cut him off, a hand shooting out to land on his arm, and you squeeze just a little.

“Thank you, Steve.” You want to cringe at the sound of thanking somebody after sex, but really, it was more about the fact for the second time in a row he actually came when you’d needed him… even if the second was a far more rival affair…

Steve blinks at you slowly from under his long lashes, in that dreamy way he does when he’s thinking something sweet or mushy, and again your insides twist. He only ducks his head further and swallows, a small smile pulling at his lips, far too innocent for the acts you’d just committed barely inside your doorway.

“Of course, uh, anytime…” You snort a little bit, rolling your eyes, but he gives you a final little wave before you shut your door behind him.

You’re left staring at your living room and kitchen counter, eyes fixated on the spot you’d been hauled up against just minutes ago. Your mind immediately begins the playback and you groan, remembering the mess still on your thighs and between them, suddenly more bothersome and uncomfortable than it had been previous, and you retreat to your shower, questioning yourself on if sleeping with your ex, who you’d only just begun talking to again, was a good idea.

—-

You walk in on Steve almost kissing someone.

It’s one of Tony’s parties, the big ones, where he invites everyone and absolutely insists everybody comes, even if he’s only on face-name basis with them. It was actually the first gathering you’d been to with the Avengers since you and Steve broke up, certainly the first since you’d started fucking again. It was good to see Sam and Bucky and the others outside of a work environment, and you think from their genuine smiles and the way Sam keeps talking you into one more round of pool, that maybe they missed you too.

You finally manage to duck out from under Sam’s arm, in search of a bottle of water, when you stumble into the private kitchen, where you’d been told the fridge was stocked full. At first your brain lights up.

Steve was in here! You’d hardly spoken to him all night! But then his hand registers, more specifically, the hip his hand is on registers, and your eyes suddenly piece together the scene before you.

A young woman, pretty, you think you know her from HR actually, leans with her back against the counter, her hands both wrapped around Steve’s biceps. One of his arms is around her waist, the other on her hip and they’re both smiling softly, if not shyly, heads so close their lips are barely apart when you accidentally squeak in surprise.

Steve pulls away instantly, even before he’s seen it’s you, and you realise that whoever this woman was to him, it was new. Steve was always a little skittish with PDA with new relationships. You’d seen it with Sharon, before yourself, and then again with your own relationship… and now with this.

“Oh! I—!” You feel your face go warm and you mouth wordlessly for a moment as you point to the fridge. The woman ducks her head in slight embarrassment and awkwardness and you do feel terrible, despite the wave of grief that overcomes you at the fact Steve was actually moving on.

Not that he wasn’t allowed to… you just hadn’t thought he’d do it first.

“Uh, just, water…” You stutter, suddenly feeling rather sick. Steve follows your pointing, even as you begin to move, avoiding his eyes. It shouldn’t be so weird! The situation the two of you had was strictly no strings attached! Steve was allowed to start dating, so were you! Still… that didn’t mean you wanted to walk in on him about to lay it on a woman that wasn’t you.

You rush out of the room with your water before anybody can gain enough sense to actually talk, and you tuck yourself back between Sam and Nat quickly.

You spy Steve and the woman leaving the kitchen a short while later, and though you don’t see even a bit of smudged lipstick or beard burn, your mind starts to whir in anger. But you know it's unjustified, and you curse yourself for being nearly a year out of your relationship, and still jealous. You consider breaking it off with Steve in the coming week, but your mind wanders back to the way he’d tipped his head back in a moan only days before, the thick column of his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands bruising on your hips as you rode him hard.

You decide instead that you’ll just act as if you’d never seen anything at all in the kitchen.

—-

Moving on is… hard.

Not necessarily out of some romantic idea that Steve was ‘The One’, in fact you’re more resolved against anything romantic with him now than you were before, more so because you were… picky.

Even if you lower your standards, every guy you seem to give a chance ends up firmly in your ‘no’ pile after a few dates or less. Most of the time it was because your interests didn’t align, you found them boring or you just weren’t attracted to each other, but occasionally one slips through.

Tom, his name was and Tom was nice. He was polite, handsome, you could talk about both shared interests and your jobs (he worked for the city morgue). Tom was good. You were still unsure of anything long term, or anything serious at all for that matter, but for someone to hang out with and occasionally be kissed by, you could do a lot worse than Tom.

He takes you out almost like clockwork every Friday or Saturday night since you’d met (that was four dates so far), you’d get dinner, maybe some drinks, walk around for a bit, and then he’d kiss you goodbye at your door. It was sweet. Tonight though, tonight you aren’t after sweet at all.

A SHIELD agent you know has her birthday, or maybe it’s a joint party? You aren’t sure, all you know is that it’s at a club, you look hot as hell, and if Tom doesn’t put his hands on you later you’ll burst at the seams.

The club is dark and loud, meant for dancing and drinking, not conversation and polite small talk, and the moment the bouncer sees you inside, you grab Tom by the hand and drag him along, a wicked smile thrown over your shoulder. You do the customary rounds, saying hello to people you know, introducing Tom. You even manage to figure out who the birthday girl is, and give her a hug. You’re aware when you lean over the table to do so that your already short skirt rides up further, and you’re aware tom is standing right behind you, watching.

You make sure not to drink much, you had plans for later after all, but you act a little giddier than you are, letting your hand linger on Tom’s thigh, holding on to him more than normal. You coax him out to the dance floor and that's where you get him. Hot bodies writhe to a beat, pressed up against one another, it doesn’t seem as obscene in the dark. You grind your hips back into Tom’s, his hands snaking their way around your hips and you smile, because you know.

In the dim light and through the throng of bodies, a flash of familiar stops you for a moment. Blonde hair, wide shoulders, beard, beer in hand, untouched… You swallow for a second as you make eye contact with Steve. He must have been invited too, must not have had a mission to go on to get out of it either. Before he can lift an eyebrow or do anything at all, you look away, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders, you lean into his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

This… this had not been what you’d had in mind.

Your bedroom is lit only by a spare few candles that flicker your shadows against the wall, and you watch them absently for a second longer, before dropping to rest on your elbows, your body moving in the rythmeric back and forth each time Tom’s hips gently buck into yours.

He can’t see your face since he’s got you on your hands and knees, and you’re glad for it, because you’re not sure you could fake it even if you tried. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, it was just… you aren’t sure… he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to, and if you’re honest it felt less like he was having sex with you and more like he was just having sex. You could be anyone right now, and he probably wouldn’t care.

Tom pants and moans and then stops, his hips stuttering gently before he pulls out and away from you.

“Bin in the bathroom?” He asks, and you plaster on your best post-sex look, and nod, rolling over in time to see him disappear into your ensuite to dispose of the condom. When he returns, you go about cleaning yourself up.

“That was great.” He chimes, and you offer him a smile. At least somebody had fun, though you note a little bitterly how he hadn’t even asked about you. Maybe Tom wasn’t so nice.

“Yeah!” You enthuse. You already knew he wasn’t going to stay the night, he’d made sure to tell you as much before you’d begun. You pull on a gown and help him dress and gather his things.

At the front door he kisses you chastely, and tells you he’ll call in the morning. Mentally, you cross him off your list, and close your door.

You seeth while you change your sheets, getting angrier and angrier over your situation. You should have known from the start there was no spark with Tom, you shouldn’t have tried to kid yourself! And he should have at least tried to make you cum!

A quick glance at the time tells you it's not too late, and you send off a text, expecting a gentle refusal.

What you don’t expect however, is Steve arriving at your apartment twenty minutes later, angry as all hell, and he all but pushes past you when you’ve opened the door, coming to stand in your living room with his hands on his hips, his brow low and his lips in a thin line.

“Are you serious?” He asks at last, when you’ve stood staring at one another for long enough. He gestures absently, but his hand comes back to his hip.

“Wha—”

“—Don’t.” He says sharply, and you shut your mouth. This was different… you’d never really seen Steve angry before, let alone angry with you… it doesn’t at all help your current situation though, and you swallow, adjusting your stance.

“You know damn well I saw you leave with him earlier! I can smell the sex in the air. You haven’t had enough already tonight?” The words are harsh and hurt lances through you momentarily, before defensiveness takes over and you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin a little.

“Excuse me? Who I spend time with and how is none of your business!” Steve scoffs and looks off for a moment, a mirthless smile on his face.

“Right. But you still want me to fuck you after anyway.” The vulgarity is new as well, and it occurs to you in the back of your mind, that he must be really pissed with you.

“If you didn’t want to come, you should have just said no!” You say, your voice sounding a little more shrill and a little more crackly than you want it too. All your bravado aside, Steve was imposing when he was angry, and the fact that anybody yelling at you, let alone him, was enough to make you cry, gives your voice a shake you didn’t ask for. Not to mention that you really hadn’t expected him to show up at all, especially angry.

Steve looks back at you, his fuming expression not exactly subsiding, but it softens some, and he drops one hand from his hip to rub at his brow before he looks back up at you, more exasperated now than anything else.

“Why did you call me?” He sounds tired, but you know an olive branch when you see one, and you snatch it, stepping closer, ducking your head.

“Why do you think…?” You shrug and purse your lips before looking up at him again.

“He was shit. You aren’t.” His shoulders square just a little at your words, and you know it's a bit of a low blow, any guy was likely to be more inclined to having sex with you if you compared him positively incomparison with another man. Steve cocks his head, lids dipping slightly and you know you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

“Is that right?” You’re right in front of each other now and you let your hands wind up around his neck, playing demure as he fixes you with a knowingly amused look, his hands landing firmly at your waist.

“Mhmn.” You hum, nodding, shrugging once again.

“He didn’t know how.” You say, pouting as Steve dips his face closer to yours, and again you find yourself pretending that this wasn’t just sex, that these arms where ones you could be wrapped in whenever you wanted.

“Didn’t know how to what?” Steve asks, voice deep and rumbly in his throat, his breath coasting over your lips, and you lean in quick, nipping at his mouth chastley, feeling his hands tighten at your waist.

“Didn’t know how to take care of me.” Magic words, really. Steve is on you in seconds, mouth devouring your own, the warmth of him engulfing and you let yourself sink into the fever.

Perhaps some of that anger still simmers under the surface, because he fucks you hard, his thrusts just a little more pointed, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. His teeth nibble at your lower lip making you keen for him with another gasp as his hips snap against yours once again.

He’s covering you completely, chest to chest, his arms rest around your head, caging you in, and you grasp onto him wherever you can, hiking your thighs higher around him as he drives into you quickly.

“You know, if I wanted to make a point,” Steve begins, his voice raspy and puffed slightly, and you peel your eyes open to look at him, his face so close to yours it almost makes you cross-eyed.

“I’d not make you cum either.” He finishes, and you start, a slight wave of panic setting in, and you open your mouth to preemptively beg, but then he’s shifting, a hand sliding between your sweaty bodies, fingers pawing until they find your clit, and you suck in air sharply.

Steve wears a lazy but wicked grin, and he begins swirling his fingers over your bundle of nerves, dropping his face low enough that when he speaks his lips brush over yours.

“But I like watching you cum while I fuck you.” As your breathing shallows, Steve seems to swallow down each short breath, eyes never leaving your face as you quickly feel your release creep up on you, his harsh, deep strokes combined with the rough pads of his fingertips rapidly spinning circles and you’re falling.

Steve uses his body to hold you down, prevent you from shaking or jerking too much as you topple over the edge of release, your pussy clutching onto his cock even as he grunts, continuing to grind into you as you call out his name over and over.

He drops his face to your neck as your senses come back to you, your brain feeling light and your eyesight a little dimmed from the sensations. You know any second now he’ll pull out, jerk himself until he spills on your stomach or thigh like he always seemed to nowadays, but something ticks in your brain, raw and primal and you hook your ankles as best you can behind him, raking your fingernails over his back in marks that will disappear by morning.

“She tighter than me, Steve?” You feel his head start to lift a little, but you gently bite at his earlobe, stopping him.

“Does she feel this good when you’re fucking her?” Something switches then in the atmosphere of the room, he picks up his pace again, and you jump when one hand fists in the back of your head, pulling your neck back and away. Steve glares down at you, though his game is half given away by the grunt he gives a second later.

“Shut up.” He says, though it isn’t half as harsh as you expect, and he rolls his eyes some, dropping his lips down to your exposed throat now and you feel a thrill run through you.

“Does she let you fuck her like this or is it gentle missionary only?” You press on, yelping a little when teeth scrape at your skin warningly, and the hand in your hair tightens, pulling.

“Because you know I’d let you have me any which way… on my knees, under you, over you… fuck,” You pause, panting a little with effort as he fucks you even harder, each word punched out of you.

“Fuck, I’d let you have my ass if you brought the lube…” Triumph colours you as Steve groans, gasping almost, his fist at your scalp a little painful as he curls his hips deep once, twice, three times more before you feel him finish, and he stills.

Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat against one another, and you can feel him shake a little in his come down as he finally relaxes.

Like always, in the aftermath you’re both silent for a few moments before Steve lifts his head, his chest heavy against your own, and he fixes you with a unconvincingly unamused expression.

“Thought I told you to shut up?” He asks, shifting to hold up more of his own weight, and you pretend to not hear him, cocking your head.

“Towel?” He seems to relent, rolling off of you and sinking into your mattress as you hop up, moving to your bathroom to grab a spare towel.

When you return, you almost falter for a few seconds in the doorway, swallowing thickly. Steve lies on your bed, one arm hooked under his head, naked as anything, looking like he belonged there. Your chest lurches, and your stomach falls to your knees as you force yourself to keep moving, gently tossing the towel at him as you gather your gown once again.

You’ll shower when he’s gone.

“Really that bad, huh?” He asks when he’s drying his hair, his underwear now pulled up around his hips, and you sigh, smiling slightly.

“Honestly… I think I’m pretty forgiving, but he didn’t even try. I’m the one who had to suggest we change positions even!” It’s easy to fall into this routine with Steve, especially after you’ve both been satiated, but it’s not really a dynamic that exists anywhere else at any other time.

At work you were friendly but professional, around friends you were polite but never seemed to stray too close (neither of you wanted a particular redhead in your business), and you made a point of not hanging out outside of that. You were already sleeping together, that was more than enough. Anything more would just make you hope, and hope would only let you down.

Steve was still Steve. He was still the guy everyone turned to in a crisis, he was still the man on the ground nine times out of ten. You broke up for a reason, and you needed to keep that in mind.

Steve shoots you a wince and scrunches his nose as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and pops his head through the hole.

“I’m sorry for… yelling.” He says after he’s pulled on his pants, and you frown, looking away.

“Don’t be… I probably shouldn’t have called you.” You say, missing the dip in his brows when you don’t look away from one of your flickering candles. Steve purses his lips as he threads his belt through his pants, but shrugs.

“You should just tell him, if you like him”

“Nah… I don’t think there’s much there for me anyway. I don’t know.” You wave him off and stand as he pulls on his jacket. This part was always the most awkward.

“Whatever you want.” He readies his keys and you move with him to the door. You always felt like you were missing something in your goodbye’s, but a hug or a kiss or a thank you was the exact last thing you wanted to do.

Keep it casual.

Steve pauses at your door, his expression unreadable and you fold your arms over your chest, flashing him an easy smile.

“Drive safe, Steve.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

—-

“Wait, what?” You turn in your seat to look at your coworker Lucy, who nods, and finishes her mouthful of yoghurt.

“Yeah, right! Two in the morning and I’m getting calls to analyse samples as if I’m at the off—”

“—No, I meant…” You trail off, mind whirring, trying to think over the details you knew already.

“I didn’t know they’d gone on a mission…” You finish with instead, sitting back in your chair.

It wasn’t like you knew the Avengers schedule off my heart, or that it was your job to know everytime they left the tower. It made sense as to why Steve hadn’t been talkative the past few days though… Still, he’d confirmed that your ‘meeting’ was still happening this afternoon, even though you’d just gotten word that the team was landing in two hours.

Lucy chitters on until your half-day ends, at which point you quickly pack up your things and make your way to the elevator. You consider calling in to the upper floors, the residential ones, to speak with the man himself, but you decide against it. It wasn’t like you were a regular up there, it would be weird and raise questions, not to mention that given his recent return from a mission, he was likely in debriefings or writing up his reports.

You pull out your phone instead and send off a quick text.

‘Just heard you got in from an assignment… Do you want to reschedule this afternoon? I know you’re probably tired as hell…?’

Steve doesn’t reply right away, and honestly you don’t expect him too. You make it all the way home before your phone buzzes, and you find yourself staring for several minutes at the words on the screen.

S: ‘I’m happy to come over, if you’re still free. I’m totally fine.’

You send him a quick confirmation, but can’t help but chew on your lip. Part of you wonders why he’d bother. You know he was lying about being fine, super soldier or not, everybody liked their downtime after an extremely stressful few days, and coming to your ex-girlfriend’s house for a hookup wasn’t exactly that… then again, maybe he really needed his itch scratched. Who were you to judge?

You’d finished your day at two, which was nice, and you do a quick clean up of your apartment before Steve was set to arrive at four. You shower and change and throw a little bit of makeup on, finishing just as your doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you can see right away that he’d been lying about being fine. Maybe nobody else would notice, but you had spent a considerable amount of time around Steve, and you could pick out his undereye bags straight away. To anybody else he’d look completely normal, but his shoulders slump just so, his smile just a little too tight.

“Hey.” He greets as you step aside, letting him kiss your cheek as he enters. You don’t know when that became a thing, but it was something you’d seen him do with a few of his female friends, so you let it slip, knowing it wasn’t just you.

“Hey…” You shoot back, suspicion slightly etched on your words. Steve immediately rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he hangs his jacket on the back of your couch.

“I’m fine.” He tells you pointedly and you decide that you can’t be bothered arguing. It was his choice to come, if he didn’t really want to, then he’d have to deal with that like a big boy.

Casual conversation ensues, he asks about your week, you tell him the hot goss in the forensics lab, and then somehow from that very enticing subject, you end up on your bed, Steve hovering just over you, lips pressed hotly against your own. Despite yourself, not all your hook ups with Steve were hot and heavy and quick. You missed making out with someone, the build up of it all, and even though you told yourself it was dangerous territory, you went there anyway.

Steve’s hands trail slowly up your body, feeling you over your clothes, and then under. You get rid of his shirt fairly quickly, his shoes kicked off already, and not for the first time, you just relish in being held, the fantasy that this was real, and you weren’t casually sleeping with your ex-boyfriend. Steve plants his knee between your legs when you scratch at the back of his head, a groan following shortly after as his fingers work to find the bottom of your shirt and get it up. You part for only seconds when he pulls it over your head, throwing it to the edge of the bed. You hadn’t bothered putting a bra on, leaving you already exposed. Steve may be Captain America, a symbol of a nation and whatever else, but he was still a man, and the second he can, he’s got his lips pressed to the skin of your neck and rapidly descending, hands groping appreciatively at your breasts.

His mouth leaves hot kisses down your throat, over your chest, and you’re so ready to feel his lips take over from where his thumb brushes over your nipple when the doorbell rings.

You both pause a moment, Steve lifting his head and you groan, scrunching up your face as the bell is joined by rapid knocking. Steve smiles, cheeks a little pink, and shifts off of you, already reaching for the nearest shirt. It’s his, but you don’t think he’ll mind much as you slip it over your head and shoot him an apologetic glance as he makes himself comfortable on your pillows, placing an arm behind his head.

“Sorry, just… give me a moment…”

“It’s fine.” Steve waves off your apologies as you jog from the room to your front door.

It’s a package you have to sign for, but the courier brings up the wrong electronic form, and you’re forced to wait impatiently as his slow device loads the correct one instead. You’re trying to remain polite, trying not to tap your foot or your fingers, but by the time you’re closing your door again, you don’t even stop to look at what the package is, chucking it onto your couch and all but racing back to your bedroom.

“Just a courier, but while I’m up, do you want a be—” You cut yourself off, coming to a stop in your doorway, eyes landing on the sight laid out before you. Steve lays against your decorative cushions, shirtless, his arm no longer behind his head, instead now he’s curled on his side, another pillow stuffed between his arms where he squeezes it, eyes shut tight, mouth slightly ajar.

Your heart skips several beats, the urge to squeal at how adorable he looks only overruled by the odd stirring in your stomach at how much you missed seeing him in your bed. And then that thought is cancelled out by your guilt.

For Steve to actually fall asleep unintended, he must have been exhausted. You really should have insisted on rescheduling…

He stirs a little, humming softly and adjusting his hold on the pillow he was cuddling and you start. You should wake him up and send him home. You weren’t dating, you were only tentatively friends. You were just sleeping together, nothing else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you move to your laptop in the living room. You had stuff you could stand to get done. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

You end up logging back into your work server and ticking off several tasks on your to-do list, losing track of time in the process. It isn’t until nearly seven when you notice, at which point you send a glance back to your bedroom doorway, before pulling up your local pizza places’ online ordering site.

Steve wakes not too long after, his footsteps purposefully loud, and you turn again to look at him as he exits your room, scratching his head and looking for all the world like an embarrassed child.

“For someone who wasn’t at all tired and was totally fine, you sure did take a midafternoon nap.” You tease and he gives you a thin, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry… I—”

“—It’s fine, Steve. Besides, I ended up clearing off my schedule for the week, so that’s nice.”

He still looks bashful, even as he takes a seat opposite you at the table.

“Do you want me to head out?” He asks, and you wave him off, standing up to move to your fridge.

“Nah. Unless you want to. But I ordered pizza a little while ago. Figured you’d be hungry. Beer?”

Steve blinks and you see him processing his choices, but he eventually nods, and you pull two bottles, cracking them open and handing one to him as you take your seat again.

“Beer and pizza isn’t exactly how I’d expected tonight to go, but you know, it’s up there.” You shrug, and Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asks.

“I’m just saying, I’ve had some interesting sex in my time, but I’ve never actually had a guy fall asleep on me before…” You both laugh, and trade jabs until your food arrives.

Steve offers to get it, which you don’t protest, grabbing some plates and moving your drinks to the couch instead. You realise, when you take a look back at him handing some cash to the delivery guy, that you’re still wearing his shirt, and groan internally.

You change quickly, pulling on your own clothes, and chucking Steve back his own when you return to the living room. He’s sat in ‘his’ seat once again, and he only lifts an eyebrow at you when he catches his shirt, before pulling it on. You don’t even pretend to not stare at the way his body stretches and moves when he does, and he doesn’t pretend not to notice.

“You know, I was gonna ask for it back when I woke up.” He tells you as you both start grabbing slices to put on your plates.

“Oh?”

Steve ums, and settles back in his seat as you search for something to play on the tv.

“But I kinda miss seeing you in my clothes.” He says, and you pause.

You fight the urge to look at him, and even though your heart beats loudly in your ears at his confession, you try to go on as if what he’d said was totally normal.

“Um, have you ever seen this one?” You point to the screen, displaying the rundown of a show you’d heard some of your coworkers talking about, and Stev shakes his head.

“Clint talks about it, but I haven’t had the time.” He shrugs and you press play.

Eventually, you find yourself relaxing again, one of you occasionally piping up to chat some shit about how unrealistic or contrived the show was, and eating your fill (and then some) of pizza. It’s weirdly casual, in a way you truly haven’t felt around Steve in a long time, but just like when you’re doing far less casual things together, it’s easy to just pretend for a while.

You fall asleep on your couch sometime after midnight, and in the morning wake up in your bed, your living room devoid of beer bottles and pizza boxes, all the remains plated and covered in your fridge. You want to be angry at yourself for allowing your interactions with Steve to go beyond the physical, but you can’t.

For the rest of your day there’s a lightness in your steps and a softness to your thoughts, as you permit yourself this one, silly, selfishness.

—-

One pizza and netflix night turns into two, and then somehow your hookups with Steve become less about sex and more about the company. You still sleep together, of course, but more often than not, you’ll find yourselves too tired for anything. Steve sits on your bed and borrows your laptop to type up reports, and you beside him, a friendly distance away, scrolling through your phone or finishing the latest book you’d started.

You don’t think about it.

But it’s nice.

Natasha and Bucky stop by your lab on a friday night and subsequently invite you to join the rest of the group for drinks that evening. You don’t even feel hesitant to accept, and you don’t think about that either.

You can’t be bothered going home to change and then come back, so you head right up when you clock off. The team is already in good form, lounging around a set of coffee tables on the upper level, several empty bottles already littering the space. The huge glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony have been pulled wide open, and Sam and Clint stand at the grill, trying to out-fry each other.

“You look nice.” Steve tells you, greeting you with a casual half-hug. He foregoes the kiss on the cheek this time, and you don’t think about it.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely amused.

“I came straight from work and I feel like I’ve been sweating in this dress all day.”

Steve grins and shrugs.

“You look nice.” He repeats, eyes not leaving you until Nat calls your attention away.

“Geez Rogers, she’s been here for five seconds and you haven’t offered her a drink?!” The redhead teases from behind the nearby bar, and you laugh, playfully shoving Steve in the arm.

“Yeah, where are you manners?!”

Steve holds up his hands in defeat, still smiling, and you move with him to the bar.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.” Natasha winks, and you wave a hand, letting her mix you some concoction you don’t catch the contents of.

“I may regret this in the morning but; I trust you.”

Nat only laughs again as Steve reaches over the bar to grab himself another beer, and you watch, unconcerned with who could be watching you. When your drink is made, you clink glasses, and move to where the others all sit. His hand grazes your lower back as you walk, but you don’t think about it.

Night falls and food is served. More drinks and more laughs, and when you’ve returned to the bar to fetch a couple more martinis for the fellas now crowding around the pool table, one Sam Wilson slides against your side.

“Good to see you make it tonight.” He nods, his signature grin spread across his face. You chuckle and shrug.

“I really needed to take a load off.”

Sam nods and looks over his shoulder as several cheers erupt from the ongoing game, before he’s staring back at you once again.

“You and Steve back on or…?” The question doesn’t totally shock you, but you still give a friendly scoff, and shake your head.

“No… Definitely not.”

Sam’s brow furrows and he cocks his head.

“We’re just friends again. That’s it. Steve’s a great guy, but…” You trail off, and shake your head once more. Sam shifts to face you and lifts an eyebrow.

“You guys aren’t subtle, you know that right? And I know you ain’t calling him to come fix your sink every other night.”

Your face grows warm and you roll your eyes.

“So what? Doesn’t mean we’re together. We just know each other. It’s comfortable.” You shrug and Sam hums in a disbelieving way.

“Look, Steve is… Steve. He’ll always be more tied to his work than anything, or any one else, and that’s fine. I just know I can't expect more from him than… this.”

Sam watches you for a moment, eyes searching your face until he looks away, nodding his head, relenting.

“Whatever you say. I’m just saying maybe you should give it another go… with the three of us now rotating leadership, things might be different.”

You frown at that, as Nat finishes with the drinks you’d asked her for, and cock your head.

“What do you mean ‘the three of you on rotation’?”

Sam sideyes you.

“Steve stepped down as our sole guy, like, a year ago now. Rhodey, he, and I take turns. We got a week each on rotation.”

You blink at the information, and wonder why Steve had never mentioned it before.

Him stepping down as the Avenger’s go-to leader was… a pretty big deal. Actually, you’re kind of shocked by it. Steve had always been, as long as you’d known him, unable to walk away from a fight. If a situation was going down, he had to be there, at the front taking charge. It was literally the reason you’d broken up. He didn’t know how to take a break, and in his life, you’d always be second, maybe even third priority.

Sm nicks one of the drinks in front of you, and you half-heartedly scold him for it as you attempt to carry the other three back to the pool table, Steve putting his cue to the side and stepping up to help you when he notices.

Sam’s words continue to spin around your brain as you settle back in to watch. It isn’t until Bucky elbows you gently in the side that you realise you were being spoken to, and you blink around.

“We were saying that we forgot to set a prize for the game.” Sam re-explains, and you hum.

“I said maybe you’d give the winner a kiss.” Bucky adds, his face clearly joking, but in that ‘only joking if you are’ way.

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Jesus, what is it? 1955?”

Bucky shrugs and sips at his drink. He’d always been a flirty drunk, not that he was drunk-drunk, but his serum seemed to affect him in slightly different ways to Steve. If he really tried, he could get a pretty decent buzz.

“And besides, I doubt Steve would see that as much of a prize, and last I checked, he was wiping the floor with you chumps.” You wave a hand and Sam cackles. Steve lifts an eyebrow at you, catching your eye.

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart, a prize is a prize.”

You hardly hear his words, it's his expression that draws you in, makes you forget about the company around you. The air feels hot all of a sudden and you really wished you could drag him off. You shrug.

“Well maybe I’ll give you something else if you win.”

If the others pick up on anything other than friendly banter, they thankfully choose not to mention it, simply laughing and moving back to the game. Steve’s cheeks tint a little pink, but he throws you a wink when he takes his next turn, and you have to laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity.

Steve holds the lead for two rounds, but Bucky, fuelled by Nat’s martinis, makes a comeback, and as the final scores are tallied, he leans in, tapping his cheek expectantly. It’s all in good fun, and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time, but make good in your promise of a prize and instead grip him gently by the chin and plant a quick kiss to his lips. Bucky lifts his drink in achievement, and you playfully shove him away.

“I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that.” Steve says teasingly, plopping down beside you, and you scoff.

“Nobody listens to Freud, and you and Bucky aren’t actually family.” You almost add that you and he aren’t actually dating either, but you stop short. Steve throws you a grin and relents.

“You finish that book yet?” He asks, referring to the Freud book in question that you’d been halfway through the last time he’d been over.

You shake your head.

“No. And I don’t think I will. I can put up with a lot of batshit crazy things, but I draw the line at him.”

Steve laughs, and takes a swig of his beer. A thought occurs to you then, and you turn to face him, squinting.

“Did you lose on purpose?”

“What?”

“The game. Did you lose on purpose?”

Steve blinks sheepishly at you in the same way he did when he was formulating some kind of believable lie, and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

“You’re so full of shit!” You laugh, watching him shrug and shift awkwardly.

“I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

You sideye him with another huff of laughter.

“I mean I offered, in front of our friends, mind you, to give you a blowjob if you won… how awkward did you think I felt?” You watch Steve’s cheeks light up again, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you this time.

“Was that what you meant?” He asks, as a sort of recovery, but you can see he’s still a little flustered. You chuckle, and lean into him, resting your hand on his upper thigh and squeezing just slightly.

“Maybe next time.” You wink, and watch his expression shift, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly, and you just know he’s imagining what would be happening right now if you weren’t surrounded by at least ten other people.

Again, you feel the urge to drag him away, but you keep your cool, leaning away from him and removing your hand as Tony and Rhodey make their way over to the couches.

As the night wanes on, Steve’s arm ends up over the back of your seat.

You don’t think about it.

—-

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to be doing?” You ask, a little exasperatedly.

It wasn’t that you weren’t thankful, but Steve was too good to know when to say ‘no’. Not that you’d even asked him, he’d offered and then showed up at your door bright and early anyway, regardless of your non-committal answer.

He just shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Day off.” He tells you. You squint. You know now thanks to Sam that he wasn’t lying, but it still makes you squirm a little.

“Well, whatever. Don’t come complaining to me about splinters.” You snark, moving ahead to inspect the branches of the next pine tree along.

Steve pouts.

“But you know those tweezers are too small for my fingers…”

“Oh, what a hard life, Steven! You never get sick and are basically invincible… except for those damn pesky tweezers!”

Steve nudges you in the side, as you laugh.

“Don’t let the bad guys know about that.” You side-eye him and he gives you his best puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re the only one who knows my secret.” He says, with over-the-top sincerity.

“I trust you.” He adds a moment later, and you snort.

“Well, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

You continue to sass and snark at each other as you walk down the rows and rows of trees, not even really looking at the pines, until you realise that an hour is probably too long to spend tree-shopping, and pick out the nearest half decent one.

Steve carries it to his car, as he’d offered to do in the first place, and you strap it up tight before getting in.

The conversation flows easy and light on the drive back, and when Steve’s phone rings, you switch instead to staring out the window at all the Christmas lights and decorations the city had put up in preparation.

“Hello? Oh, yes…?” You can only hear Steve’s side of the conversation, not blessed with super-hearing like he was, but you turn your head, intrigued when he seems to falter.

“Today? Well I… in twenty minutes? Oh, um…” He looks over at you, a frown pulling at his brows.

“If you need to stop somewhere…” You whisper, waving a hand to confirm you were okay with the detour, and he shoots you a tight smile, before setting his eyes back on the road.

“I can do that, no problem. Okay. Thank you. Bye.”

“What was that about?” You ask immediately, curious now that you were seemingly being dragged along.

“I had to get a suit altered— for Tony’s christmas party on the weekend…” He begins and you ‘ah’. Tony had declared all attendees go all-out. No jeans were allowed, it was supposed to be a strictly formal event.

“But the owner of the store just realised my appointment clashed with her flight out of the city this afternoon.”

“So we’re going to pick it up?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, and nod, fiddling with the radio now as you drive past the turn off for your place. Steve had promised to help you carry your tree inside, and given the time, it would probably take too long for him to make his appointment if he took you home first. You didn’t mind though.

The tailor he’d chosen wasn’t some fancy, high end retail store, but you never expected it would be. Instead, Steve holds open the door to a small, mom-and-pop type shop, with dark wooden interiors that just screamed old-school class. You enter and promptly take a seat in the showroom as Steve is whisked away to try on his suit for a final inspection.

You’re staring mindlessly at your phone when he steps back in, a little awkward, clearly asking what you think.

“Well, well, well Rogers… So you do clean up nicely after all!” You tease, standing and moving closer as he rolls his eyes at you and faces the mirror. You watch him smooth down the suit jacket, looking a little self-conscious if you’re being honest, but then his eyes find yours again in the mirror.

“You’re going, right?”

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a bit.

“I think Tony would have my head if I made up an excuse… and I kinda like christmas parties… dressing up, mistletoe and all that.” You wave a hand, and Steve turns back around to face you.

“Come with me.” He says, breathily, like he’d been holding the words in for so long he just couldn’t keep them anymore. You freeze, staring up at his hopeful expression, feeling for all the world like your veins had suddenly turned to ice.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, and the blond shifts on his feet, lifting his chin a little more confidently this time.

“Come with me. To the party.”

You aren’t sure how you hear him so clearly when your heart beat thunder loudly in your ears, and suddenly, the walls in the room begin to close in on you. You shake your head with a frown and take a step back from him.

“W-what? No, Steve, I…”

Steve straightens a little, his brow furrowing now and you struggle to speak, panic rising in your chest.

“Steve, we’re— we’re just friends. This isn’t— we aren’t dating!” You stress, still shaking your head, and still stepping away from him. Steve ‘s jaw sets a little and he gets that look on his face like when he had something to say, but he knew it would be incendiary.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a while now, and you know that.” He says instead, voice tight, and you suck in air sharply.

You knew this was a mistake.

You knew doing anything outside of your agreed-upon interactions was dangerous, and yet, like an idiot, you’d gone there anyway.

“Steve— I am—” You lower your voice somewhat, remembering where you are, and hold out a hand.

“This, what we’re doing now, this is fine. Nobody gets hurt, it’s fun and—”

“—Who's getting hurt exactly?” Steve cuts you off, and you barely refrain from yelling at him.

“Me! I am not going to sit around, waiting for you to find the time to see me! I’m not doing that again. I’m not playing second fiddle to your job!” You explode, immediately pulling back at the flash of grief that lances across Steve’s face.

You look away from him and rub at your temple.

“Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come.” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth.

“Every. Time.” He repeats, and you finally bring yourself to look at him.

“I am sorry that the lines got blurred. But I am not—” You stutter a little, choking on your words, but you clear your throat.

“I cannot do this again.”

And you leave.

You run away, because it was less scary than whatever Steve wanted from you. Less scary than opening yourself up and getting hurt like before.

And you were an idiot for it.

You hate yourself for crying when you get home, sans christmas tree now, and a big part of you is glad Steve doesn’t follow you, or try to call. A bigger part of you cries that he doesn’t, and at the fact that despite trying to keep things casual, keep him at arm's length, you’d gone and gotten all tangled up anyway.

It was a mistake.

You knew from the start, but you can’t even revel in your own self pity for too long, because soon enough you’re coming to your goddamn senses.

You were a complete and total bitch.

Steve had hurt you, yes, and maybe springing a date on you like that wasn’t the best way, but even you aren’t dumb enough to not notice his change. He had hurt you, and then he’d changed. He’d taken a step away from leading, to be more present, to be more around, and he was right, he had come every time you’d needed him, for whatever reason. He’d kept your scheduled meetings, even when he was dead tired and really could have called them off.

He’d done everything you could have asked for.

And you hadn’t even asked for it.

—-

Your nerves nearly consume you when you step through the doorway and into the open space of the residential floors. Tony had gone just as nuts with the decorating as you’d imagined. Not a single corner of the room looked like Christmas hadn’t thrown up all over it. Yet, even your love of this time of year couldn’t trump the anxiety that rolls back over you as you look around the room.

You’re actually glad that you can’t spot him right away. It lets you relax, greet other people, ease into the nerves you feel. Besides, if your little meltdown had sent him back into the arms of whatever-her-name-was, you might just be sick.

The jig is up however, when Sam Wilson slings an arm around your shoulder, bright smile betrayed only by the knowing glance he gives you.

“Didn’t think I’d end up seeing you tonight.” he says casually, leading you toward the bar, and you shrug as best you can.

“I’ve got to grovel at some time. Christmas party seemed dramatic and cinematic enough.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic look and squeezes your arm.

“He isn’t upset with you.”

“He should be.” You say, shaking your head and dropping your gaze.

Sam sighs and removes his arm from you so that he can signal the bartender.

“He’s upset with himself.”

You roll your eyes.

“Of course he is. Cause he’s so damned good.” You kick the bar lightly in frustration, and sink a little more into self-hatred. Sam slides a shot of clear liquor toward you.

“Courage.” He says, tipping his own back seconds later, and you relent, plastering on a tight smile before pouring the contents of the glass down your throat.

It burns, and fills your nose with the distinct taste of vodka, and you scrunch up your face, Sam laughing at you when you put your glasses back.

“I’d like less courage next time.” You tell him, and he shrugs.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that in five seconds.” His eyes skip over your shoulder and you frown.

“Wait, why?” A quick glance behind you makes you panic, wide eyes finding a grinning Sam once again, who is already slinking off.

“Sam!”

It’s useless though, he’s gone in seconds, and quickly you become very aware of the man who’d come to stand a small distance away from you at the bar. Biting the bullet, you swallow thickly, and turn to look at him.

Steve looks much like he had the last time you’d seen him, which really only makes your stomach churn more in memory of the way you’d acted.

“Hey…” You greet, worried perhaps he might ignore you, even though you know damn well he could hear you over the crowd. But he doesn’t, eyes swivelling to find your like it was what he’d been waiting for. He gives you a conservative smile and nod.

“Hey.”

The one word alone, filled with so much simple sadness makes the damn break, and before you even realise what you’re doing, you’ve stepped right beside him, hands wringing in front of you.

“Steve, I am so sorry. What I said— I was just— I was a bitch.” You finish lamely, but he only looks down at you, slightly bewildered, as if he really hadn’t expected you to say anything about what had happened.

He turns in to face you, feeding off of your distressed body-language, one hand coming up to touch your arm, and he looks around concerned for a moment before back at you.

“You wanna go somewhere else…?” He asks, and again, you wallow in self-hatred at the way that he so quickly seemed ready to defend your clear anxiety. You swallow, and nod, letting him lead you away from the bar.

He guides you through familiar rooms just as decked out and just as full with people, until you reach a small, quiet staircase, one you know leads up to the private floors.

You’re well aware of how long it had been since you’d last stood in his apartment, and it only spurs your nerves on more. Maybe you should have waited… maybe the christmas party wasn’t the ideal time…

“As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to apologise for.” Steve says, which only makes you scoff, rounding on him where he stands.

“Steve, you’ve got to be kidding!”

He only shrugs, sad eyes turning down and you sigh.

“Everything I said was… I shouldn’t have said it. You were right. Things haven’t exactly been ‘casual-hookups-no-strings-attached’ for a long time.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve and shuffle on your feet.

“I… I like what we had. Just… hanging out. You’re… you’re so easy to be with, and I like that, Steve. I never feel like we’re on different pages, you always get me, you’re great in bed… I— I like being with you, so much…” You pause and take a shaky breath.

“And I know that you’ve been trying. You’ve… frankly, you’ve changed more than I was even asking for back when—” You cut yourself off and shake your head.

“My point is. I’m sorry. I was a bitch because having you in my life in some way is better than not at all, and if things ended the way they did last time, I wouldn’t be able to even look at you— Am I even making any sense?!” You drag a hand over your hair and sigh. Steve moves toward you, slowly, and you force yourself to look at him.

“Yes.” He says, stopping just in front of you.

“I think.” He adds a moment later and you can’t help but laugh. You shake your head.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and watch him stare at you, before nodding.

“Thank you. I’m sorry too.” He says, though you can’t even imagine what for right now.

“Is it too late to retroactively accept your invitation to the party?” You joke, and his face breaks into a smile, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I think so… Didn’t get to pick you up or anything…”

You click your fingers in an ‘oh shoot’ gesture, and Steve grabs your hand before you can drop it again. You watch as slowly he brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers.

Your breathing gets shallower at the action, and you wonder if him bringing you here, to his private rooms, was really a good thing after all. You rescind your earlier thoughts. You’re glad you didn’t wait, you’re glad you decided to do this during the Christmas party.

He pulls you closer in a way that feels only natural, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have to pretend that any of this is real, you don’t need the fantasy.

Steve kisses you long and sweet, his hands firm and secure where he holds you, a silent promise. You think it feels different to how he normally holds you, but you think it’s probably just in your head. You bite at his lower lip, pulling on it just slightly, and his chest rumbles, his hands moving then, squeezing and pawing at you, feet blindly guiding you, moving towards his bedroom.

Clothes are peeled off and set aside, when you try to move atop of him, he only grabs your wrists, trapping you in place against his mattress, and you don’t even care. Steve was here, with you, in his room, and it was real.

He has you face down, pillow raising your hips slightly, his body draped over yours warm and heavy, sweat slicked and firm. Your thighs are only just parted, enough for him to slip inside you, so close, so deep you think you see stars with each thrust. He moves slow, arms caged around your own, hand splayed out against your throat, lifting your head up and back so he can kiss you as he moves, taste each moan he creates as he creates it.

You feel overwhelmed and utterly saturated in him, picked to pieces and pulled apart, his cock sheathed so deep, his weight bearing down on you, you’re drowning in him.

He kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, resting his forehead against you as he picks up his pace, driving faster and deeper, your desperate words of filth and want muffled into the pillow you hold tightly. You think your nails might’ve ripped a hole in the fabric, but you aren’t sure.

You come together, heady cries filling the air before dissipating into heavy, breathy sighs. He doesn’t leave you, stays right there atop of you, still inside you as you both come down. He kisses along your spine again, sweeps some hair out of the way to reach your neck, and that place behind your ear.

“Am I too heavy?” He asks a moment after, voice muffled in the skin of your shoulder, and you laugh, shaking your head, and peering up at him as best you can. He was atop you, sure, but his arms still held most of his weight, never too rough, always just enough.

“No. I like it.” You say, feeling a little shy. All the times you’d slept together, in a relationship, and out of it, this felt real, like all else before was just practice. Steve shifts his hips a little and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyelashes fluttering just slightly. You nod.

“I like when you’re here… like this. And you don’t hold back on me.” He lifts his head a little and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever held back on you, when you’ve asked.” He reminds, and you hide your face, laughing into the pillow.

“Well maybe sometimes…” He admits, likely referencing all the times you’d beg him for ‘harder’ and he’d adjust his angle instead, already fucking you as hard as he felt comfortable with.

After a few seconds, he lets up a little to allow you to roll over, though he still hangs over you, chest to chest.

“I never liked leaving after.” He admits, dropping his lips to your cheek.

“I hated going back to my own bed, knowing you wouldn’t be with me in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever said it but,” He lifts his head again and you stare up at him.

“Waking up with you in the mornings after we’d stayed together, it always felt like a battle to get up and leave. I always thought ‘today I don’t need to run. You can take a break’.”

“But you never did?” You wonder, and see the regret flash over his features.

“I should have. Maybe not all the time, but… I should have.” You purse your lips and try to catch his guilty eyes.

“Steve… I never wanted you to completely overhaul your life. I still don’t want you to do that. That part of you, the part that wants to help people and be there for them, I love that. It’s what fundamentally makes you you.” You push back the hair that hangs on his forehead and sigh, tracing the edges of his face now instead.

“I don’t care if six out of seven days a week you need to get up before me, as long as I have that seventh day…” His face softens from the self-judgement you could see reflected in his features and you smile.

“I just… I don’t know, I want to feel like at least a bit of a priority. I know that’s not always going to be possible, I get that… but…”

“I know. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t.”

“And last-minute cancellations should be the exception not the rule!” You joke, and he hangs his head again, but chuckles against the crook of your neck.

“Understood.”

You lay like that for a while, just relishing in one another's presence, feeling your chest’s rise and fall against each other. When he moves next, it’s because his phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table, and you watch him reach blindly out to grab it.

You play with the hair on his arm as he checks the message, the amused sigh he gives off a second later heavy against your chest.

“It’s Buck,” He tells you.

“Says the fellas are getting ready for a round at the pool table…” He trails off as another message comes through, and this time you see him roll his eyes, and chuck his phone to the side.

“He wants to know if you’re going to kiss the winner again.” Steve’s voice is amused still as he finally crawls off of you, and helps you up. You both know you can’t, and shouldn’t stay locked up here all night.

“Well, I tell you what, Rogers, you don’t go easy on Barnes again, and I’ll give you what I promised last time.”

For a moment Steve just frowns in confusion, but as it slowly dawns on him, a challenging, determined glint fills his eyes.

“Better start keeping score then, sweetheart.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/yn #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut

6K notes · View notes

bookyeom · 3 months

Text

pairing: woozi x reader word count: 3.4K warnings: a couple of swears, kissing, alcohol, sad!reader, sad!jihoon

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

flatline by 5 seconds of summer

someone just like you, no one else i’m falling for the first time heart is gonna flatline now i can’t even look at you you’re like staring at the sunshine

You stand outside the crowded bar, grateful for the respite of fresh air after your time in the hazy, grimy dance club. There are only a few other patrons smoking or loitering outside as you wait for your ride to arrive, because it’s only midnight and inside, the party is just beginning.

Your head is buzzing pleasantly as you squint at your phone to check the time, the bright light from the screen making you wince. 12:07. If you were more sober, you would probably laugh at yourself. You’d gone out for a friend's birthday, but as soon as you had said the satisfactory hellos and gotten sufficiently drunk — which, arguably, didn’t take long — you’d been ready to go home. At midnight.

Your younger self is cringing.

As you gracefully get into your Uber and the driver begins to wind through the streets from the bar to your apartment, you pull up the last text thread on your phone. A smile is already on your lips just at the sight of the contact name.

Y/N [12:08am]: On my way hoooome. Hope u waited up for me!!

Your roommate shoots back a reply almost instantly, and you giggle at his response, your hand lifting to cover your mouth.

Jihoon-Ah [12:09am]: Ok. I’m still working, so keep your drunk ass quiet.

If you had it your way, he’d have come out with you. He knows all of your friends and you know all of his, but the club scene isn’t really his vibe. Plus, he has a music final due tomorrow – today? – and if there’s one thing he’s dead serious about, it’s his music.

Jihoon-Ah [12:13am]: Door’s unlocked. Be safe.

You feel a flush spread across your cheeks as the second message comes through, and warmth floods all the way down to your toes.

Jihoon always manages to do that to you. Make you blush, make you feel warm and fuzzy, make you laugh. It’s funny, because to those who don’t know him, he seems quiet and private, and maybe even a little bit closed off. But with his friends, with those who get to know him, he’s brash and hilarious, and he cares a hell of a lot about those who care about him. He’s one of your best friends, your roommate, and quite possibly the love of your life.

He doesn’t know about that last part, though, and you don’t plan on telling him anytime soon.

“Jihoon-ah,” you singsong as you finally make it into your shared apartment. He doesn’t turn to look at you from his spot on the couch, but you know he’s heard you come in by his grunt of acknowledgement. He remains where you left him, on the couch and hunched over his laptop, black hair mussed from where he’s probably been running his fingers through it as he agonises over his piece. You hastily take off your shoes before you cross the room, flopping down next to him unceremoniously. He glances at you briefly before turning back to his screen.

“Did you have fun?” He asks without looking at you.

“Mhm,” you mumble back. It’s quiet for a few moments, the sound of his fingers clicking away lulling you into a daze until he speaks up once more.

“You should change,” he says, and you turn to stretch out your legs, pointing your toes. He glances at you again as you do so, eyebrows raised. “You took off the shoes, thank god, but you’re probably not comfortable in that dress anymore.”

You yawn, smiling at his thoughtful comment before replying, “It’s called fashion, Jihoon, look it up. Beauty is pain.”

“I already told you before you went out that you looked nice, don’t push it.”

You let out a laugh at that, and the quiet smile on his lips betrays any real irritation on his part. You watch him for a moment, your eyes lingering for far too long on the softness of his mouth as he focuses back on his work.

You really hadn’t stood a single chance against falling in love with him, had you?

“I’m too tired to change,” comes your weak mumble.

“Okay,” he responds easily, his attention back on his computer again. You take the opportunity to let your eyes trace over his profile one more time; his eyelashes, his nose, the curve of his lips. The quiet contentment remains on his face, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed knowing that you’re part of the reason for it.

Your eyes finally turn to wander across the laptop screen to see what he’s working on, your head falling onto his shoulder. You’d have done it sober too, but with a bit of alcohol in your system, you’re just slightly less nervous. You can feel him tense. Your eyes fall to where his hands have paused, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve stressed him out with the physical contact, but then his shoulders relax. It takes only a few seconds before he begins clicking and typing again, and you can’t help but smile.

You’re looking at his computer and, subsequently, at his unfinished work. You can still recall when he’d been hesitant to let anyone see his music — let alone his drunk, touchy roommate. Yet somehow, you’ve managed to secure a coveted spot in the small group of people Jihoon trusts enough to share his work with. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still freak out every time he shares a piece he’s working on – he does, and you know that – but he insists that he wants to show you anyway. You often feel a strong sense of satisfaction in knowing what that means. It means that he trusts you — and that’s an incredible privilege.

You stay on the couch like that for a few more minutes as he continues to work, until a yawn overtakes you and on instinct, your nose turns to burrow into the crook of his neck. You let out a sigh, falling into a false sense of security for just a moment — into a world where Jihoon is yours to be with like this. Your eyes fall shut. You hardly register your own movement until it hits you that Jihoon’s entire body has gone rigid, and your eyes shoot open in a panic. You don’t think you’ve ever done that before – nuzzled into his neck like you belong there.

And now you’re terrified that you’ve finally crossed a line that you can’t come back from.

Another thing that Jihoon allows you to do more than anyone else is initiate physical contact. You’d taken advantage, and lately you’ve been toeing the line of too much. It just feels so easy to do, because you’re so drawn to him, to who he is, to the way he makes you feel — but you know it’s not fair of you. Not when he hasn’t ever expressed feeling the same way, not when he hasn’t ever protested as you go on dates, not when he hasn’t ever initiated anything himself. Jihoon always tells you it’s okay when you’re touchy, that he doesn’t mind it every once in a while, but you can’t help but feel like a complete fool.

He’s not yours, and he doesn’t want to be.

You abruptly feel yourself sober up as you scramble to move away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“You didn’t have to move,” comes his blunt reassurance, his eyes not leaving the screen of his laptop.

“I know you hate being touchy. I should have asked first. Sorry.”

“You’re always like this, especially when you’re drunk,” he retorts, “I don’t know why you’re only apologizing today.” You can’t help but shrink back against the couch, defeated.

“Sorry,” you say again, your voice small.

Jihoon looks at you then, eyebrows raised in surprise, like he really had no clue you were actually upset. “Hey, it’s okay. I always let you do it,” he adds after a moment.

“Yeah…” You trail off, and you hate the way you sound a bit like a child as you repeat, “but you hate it.”

Normally, Jihoon would ignore your tipsy pouting. He’s usually not the best at reading people – self-proclaimed – but this time, he seems to sense something’s wrong. He searches your face, and when you look away, he gently nudges your foot with his. “I don’t hate it when it’s you,” he says, quiet and serious, and you can feel his eyes still on you.

“Soonyoung and Y/N privilege,” you try to joke as you meet his eyes again, and Jihoon nods slowly. His eyebrows knit together, like he’s trying to figure something out. Whatever it is, you don’t think you want him to. “I’m going to bed,” you say, and he nods again. Neither of you says anything else, but you can feel his eyes following you as you disappear into your bedroom.

It’s not unusual for Jihoon to emerge from his room around midday. What is unusual, however, is for him to be up any earlier than 10:00am. So when you leave your room at 9:30 a few days later only to find him hunched over your kitchen island, to say you’re surprised is an understatement. He’s got a near-full cup of tea in front of him, and he’s staring into the void. He doesn’t turn, even when you clear your throat, and you’re beginning to panic now.

“Jihoon?” Your hand itches to reach for him as you approach, but you don’t. You feel distinctly as though you’re trying not to startle a deer.

“Hm?” The sound of his name seems to finally jolt him out of it, and he turns to meet your eyes. Your heart breaks a little. He looks exhausted — more than usual. There’s something about his face that suggests it’s more of a mental than physical kind of tired, and you want nothing more than to give him a hug.

You tread carefully. “Did you… Go to the gym already?”

Jihoon shakes his head. You didn’t think so, given that he’s still in the shorts and t-shirt he usually sleeps in, but it seemed like a safe enough topic. He says nothing more. Why else would he be up this early? Your brain is running a million miles a minute. Something is clearly wrong, but how can you help?

You’re silent as you go about your morning, making breakfast as usual — except that this time, you make twice as much. When you place two boiled eggs and some cereal in front of him, it takes him a second to react. You try not to flush when you feel his eyes on you as you sit across from him, scrolling through your phone and taking a bite of your own food instead of acknowledging it.

“Thank you.”

You look at him when he speaks. The corner of his mouth is tilted up just so, in that quiet, wonderful Jihoon way, and you can’t help but smile back. “Of course.”

It’s quiet between the two of you as you eat. You try not to think too much about it, but lately, sitting in silence around your friend has been almost unbearable. There’s just so much you want to say, especially after the other night.

“How do you always know?”

You look at him again, eyebrows knitting together as you process his question. “Know what?”

He gazes at you for a moment, and the intensity of it has your neck flushing. Then he looks down at his plate again, and you remind yourself to breathe.

For a second you think that there's something there, something hovering between you. You just don’t know what.

“You always know when something’s up with me.”

You shrug, trying desperately not to show just how flustered you are that he’s noticed. “I’m an empath,” you offer, and Jihoon lets out a soft breath of laughter. He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, and it almost feels like you’re both holding your breath now.

Neither of you had mentioned that night the week before. Though a part of you knows that it’s best to just let it be, another part of you almost wishes he’d brought it up. You’re so in love with him that it makes you nauseous, and you’re so aware of it. He’s all you think about, and you worry that if you don’t say it out loud soon, you’re going to explode during one of these quiet moments. You’ve tried so hard to ignore it, to push it down, but the feelings just won’t quit.

And you have no idea what to do about it.

Y/N [4:12pm]: what’s my favourite music man up to?

You sniffle from your spot on your couch, curled up in your favourite fuzzy blanket. You’re miserable, despite your sunny sounding text. That’s your job, though, isn’t it? To be the happy friend? To pretend everything’s fine when it’s not?

You’d just gotten home from a grueling day at work. You’d been hoping that your roommate was home – not because you’d actually have told him you were upset, but because seeing his face makes your day brighter. But he’s not, and you’re alone.

Jihoon-ah [4:34pm]: working. I’ll be late today

Y/N [4:35pm]: classic jihoon. guess I’ll just eat alone :(

Usually, Jihoon’s short texts don’t bother you, because you know him and you know he means nothing by it. It gets to you tonight, though, because all you want right now is for him to hold you.

You wouldn’t ever ask him for it.

You selfishly wish that he would just know that you need him, but he doesn’t. He’s busy, and he’s not very affectionate at the best of times. The worst part of it all, though, is that deep down, you know he would do anything for you if you asked. But you won’t.

It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. If you don’t tell people what you want, you can’t expect them to know.

You’re in your room a couple of hours later, curled up as you watch an episode of your newest binge. You’d let yourself cry, let yourself feel everything even though it hurt, and now it was on to phase two: distraction.

You’re so enthralled in your show that you don’t even hear the front door open and close. When a knock sounds at your bedroom door, you jump and sit up straight. The knock comes again, and you freeze.

“It’s me.”

Your eyes fall to your phone to check the time. You hadn’t expected him for another hour at least. You get up slowly, grimacing as you pass your reflection in the mirror, and move to open the door. He looks out of breath, almost as if he ran home, his eyes wide and his jacket still on.

“Jihoon?” You blink. “Why are you here? I thought you were working.”

“Can I come in?” He asks instead of answering. You step aside, trying to figure out why he’s home early — and why he’s knocking at your bedroom door. It’s quiet for a minute before you sit back on your bed, gesturing for Jihoon to join you. He does, hesitantly, and the room is so quiet that your heart starts to race a little.

“Is everything okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Are you…” He winces as he trails off, a hand lifting to run through his hair. He tries again. “Are you having a bad day?”

You blink at him for a moment, surprised. “Huh?”

“Seungcheol told me that you were having a bad day.” He looks embarrassed as he says it, and you remember that you’d told your mutual friend about your shitty boss’s latest antics at lunch.

“Oh,” you manage, reminding yourself to scold Seungcheol later.

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, almost as if he’s trying to ground himself, and then he’s pushing forward again. “So… Are you? Having a bad day?”

You debate lying so as not to worry him, but he’s looking at you so intently that you just know you can’t. You look down at your hands. “Kind of.” Your voice is quieter now, and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.” It’s quiet, and you kind of wish to be swallowed whole.

“I wish you’d told me,” he admits.

“It’s okay. I didn’t want to interrupt your… stuff.”

He shakes his head, almost like he’s frustrated, and you wish — not for the first time — that he was a bit easier to read.

“Your stuff is important to me, too,” is what he finally says, and you can feel how warm your face is getting.

“I know, but it’s okay. It’s nothing big,” you try to reassure him. “I’ll get over it.”

Jihoon hums, and when you look over at him again, you find him with his hands clasped together in his lap as he leans forward. He still seems frustrated, but you’re not sure why. “I came home as soon as he told me,” he tells you, and your stomach flips.

“You didn’t have to—“

“I’m sorry I’m bad at reading between the lines.” His interruption surprises you, and you blink back at him.

“Huh?”

Jihoon sighs, turning his body towards yours. “Even when I don’t tell you, you always know if I’m upset about something. I wish I was better at that, but I just get so focused and I don’t notice things. You know how I am.”

“It’s okay, Jihoon,” you say again. “I can’t expect you to just know how I’m feeling.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly. His gaze on you is intense, his eyes wandering across your face, and you suddenly feel self-conscious. “I guess I just wish that you, and everyone else, would be more straight up with me.”

You bite your lip. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. Don’t be sorry, just…” He takes in another breath. You’re holding yours. “Can you please tell me next time?”

“I will. I just… don’t want you to worry about me.”

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time,” he says. “Not with me.”

Your heart is ready to beat out of your chest. All you can do is say, “Wow, Jihoon, it kind of sounds like you care about me.”

When he responds easily with, “I do,” your mouth falls open a little.

The soft tone of his voice is so tender, so serious. What surprises you even more is the way he’s avoiding your eyes now, hand scratching at the back of his neck. Is he… blushing?

“I want to be there for you,” he adds a moment later, and you think you must be dreaming. He straightens, meeting your eyes again, and your breath is caught in your throat. He searches your face for a moment before he says, “I’m bad at knowing when people need me. I know that. But I’m telling you that I want you to tell me when you need me, because I want to be there for you.”

“Jihoon…”

“Please tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

The room falls silent. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you process, but you know you have to take the risk — so you do.

Your fingers find his, a slow brush of skin against skin as you wait for him to make the next move. Your heart nearly beats out of your chest when he closes the gap, lacing his fingers through yours, and squeezes.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I understand exactly what you’re saying.”

“And?”

“I care about you too, Lee Jihoon. So much.”

“Yeah?” It comes out as a whisper, and you’re rewarded with a smile when you nod.

“Yeah.” You flush, opening your mouth to speak again, but nothing comes out. Jihoon tilts his head as you play with his fingers nervously.

“What?”

“Can you… Would you kiss me?”

Jihoon’s smile widens, even though you can see the tips of his ears turning red in the dim light of your room. “I can do that,” he murmurs, his free hand finding your face, and your nervous inhale is quieted by his mouth on yours.

It’s gentle and slow. It’s Jihoon, and he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

When you pull away, you’re blushing. You let your forehead fall forward against his shoulder, and you can feel him laugh as his hand lifts to your back.

“Do you want to talk?“ He asks gently. “About your day?”

You shake your head no, moving back to look up at him as you say, “Don’t worry. My day is much better now.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on pov and idk! Here’s the third of our Thirteen Valentines. Nana Tour!Woozi has ruined my life as much as he has ruined yours. xoxo

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed <3

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone @savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars @darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

#woozi fluff #woozi angst #woozi imagine #woozi x you #woozi x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #ljhfic #my writing #thirteenvalentines #seventeen fluff #Also yes i changed his song don’t @ me

296 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

Life in the City 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.

Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader

Note: I think I'm addicted to thick men.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Tuesday sees a new block in your calendar. The three hour meeting stands out in the internal calendar as its highlighted bright yellow. You don’t know where it’s come from. You’re nervous.

Have you done something wrong? Is this a firing? Does that really take three hours?

You try not to let your innate insecurity get the best of you. You click on it but the new window offers little more than the time. All participants are hidden and there’s no description aside from ‘meeting’. The only other information is the conference room number. Right, so you’re going to implode in the hour leading up to it.

You try to focus but the Excel lines are much tighter than usual. They seem to blur together as you file through a thousand different possibilities and none of them are good. What do you do if you are in trouble? If you do lose your job? You have nothing to fall back on.

You get up ten minutes from the start of the meeting. The building is still new to you and you have to check the placards on the wall to make sure you’re at the right conference room. The door is already open and you slow down as you see Tony strut through ahead of you. This definitely seems off. He’s one of the top execs…

What if it’s a mistake? What if you were added by accident? Maybe you misunderstood it. Maybe it was a notice to stay away. Oh, you’re so confused.

You enter the room and hug your notebook to your chest. The table against the far wall is arranged with trays of catering; pastries, fruits, veggies, quiche, all sorts of delights. Alongside the treats are coffee and tea and a frosty jug of water.

Tony helps himself to a cup of coffee and several tarts. Several other seats are already filled. You vaguely recognise them, not all by name, but you know they’re from various departments. You sit at the table and lay your notebook down, nervously gripping the spiral as you flick your thumb against the tip of the pen slid within.

No one else seems to notice you. They all know each other and chatter among themselves. Five including you. Not very many at all. You wait, wondering who called the meeting as no one seems in a hurry to begin.

The door clicks but you’re the only one who hears it as they rest or deep in conversation. You peek over as Thor strides to the head of the table, stopping behind the high-backed chair.

“I hope you all helped yourselves to the wonderful treats,” he smiles, “don’t mind me as I grab a few before we begin.”

He carries on to the trays and you look down at your notebook. You open it to the first blank page and slide your pen free of the coil. You wiggle it between your fingers as you wait. Surely, it can’t be disciplinary. There’s food and Tony is one of the top guys.

Thor returns, a healthy mound of sweets and fruits on his plate and a steaming cup in the other. He sits and pushes his shoulders wide, sighing as he peers up and down the table. You shrink down as you sit at the opposite end.

“Well, we are all here,” he declares, drawing the silence of the rest. They all turn their attention on him. “I think some of you already know why I’ve brought you here but we have lots of time to get filled in. We’ll be taking breaks of course but we won’t waste time, yes?”

“Yes, sir,” your voices reply out of turn.

“We will be working on a very special project. It’s big news that we’ve acquired Onyx Row and it’s all well and good to put a pretty bow on it and send out a release, but we have to handle all that background noise. We have to figure out how that works,” he explains.

You’re almost hypnotised by his voice and the way he moves his hands as he speaks. He’s so confident and carefree. You envy him as much as you admire him.

“You have all been handpicked to take this on,” he pauses to look at each and every one of you. “We need a strong team. We’ll have new clients to take it and to retain, we’ll have new profits but new expenses as well, and we have a lot to learn about OR. We all know things are not always transparent in acquisitions.”

There’s a murmur of agreement as you stay silent. You’re still not sure you’re supposed to be here. You don’t have very much experience, just a certificate you got at the end of your degree. You chew your lip as you stare down the table, suddenly caught in the sights of another.

Thor’s blue eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples. You blanch and make yourself sit straight. You uncap your pen and quickly scribble in your notebook; Onyx Row.

“Today’s strategy planning,” Thor says, “we’ll toss some ideas around until the first break, then after that, we’ll come up with a ladder.” He stacks his hands over and over as he talks, “figure out how we climb it. Step by step.”

There’s typing on keyboards. You regret not unhooking your laptop but your notebook’s just as good for notes. Tony leans backs as he chews a quiche, crumbs dusting down his jacket.

“Stark, why don’t you write something down, eh? You’re not here for a free meal.”

“That’s what you think,” Tony scoffs playfully but lets his chair snap straight and taps on his touch pad to wake up the laptop.

“Right then,” Thor stands, “I’ve a brief presentation to get us started before we start brainstorming.”

Your stomach swims. The displacement remains but at least you’re supposed to be there. Even if you’re not sure you’re the right choice. Everyone else in the room is a veteran and you’re just you. That’ll have to do.

Or maybe you’ll just show yourself to be a total noob.

🏙️

At the midpoint of the meeting, several new trays are added to the spread. It’s a lot for six people. You finally get up to grab a tea, steeping a bag of green in hot water, then take a small triangle of a tuna sandwich and a few pieces of fruit back to your seat. Despite the ice breakers round, you’re still shut out of the clique-like conversation of the others.

You don’t mind so much. Talk for business, nothing else. This is work. Besides, you’re so anxious you don’t know what you would say. You chalk it up as much to your own inaction as to their blatant exclusion.

The empty chair to your other side rolls back, frightening you as Thor sets down another plate of goodies and sits. You gulp and look at him as you quit your nibbling of the sandwich crust. You clear your throat and wipe your fingers on a napkin.

“Sir,” you greet with a cringing smile, “hi, er.”

“Thor will do,” he assures coolly, “are you enjoying the food?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer, trying to brighten up out of your cocoon, “it’s good.”

“Feel free to have more. There’s plenty to go around.”

“Thank you, that’s… I’m good,” you press your thumb to your index and bend and unbend your knuckle nervously.

“Tea?” He muses as he reaches to flick the small tap dangling from your cup.

“Mhm,” you nod awkwardly, “coffee burns my tum–stomach.”

He smiles broadly, “ah, mine too, but I’m stubborn.” He leans his elbow on the table, his chair turned to face you entirely, “are you nervous?”

Your eyes give you away as they widen at his blunt question. You dip your chin again, “a little. I… you know I only just started, right?”

“Yes, but you have your qualifications,” he insists.

“Yeah, uh, but…” you glance around at the others.

“But, I have faith in you. As I said, I picked every person in this room. You included. I know that new minds are as valuable as more experienced ones.”

“Well, er, thank you for taking a chance on me,” you bit your cheek and force a smile.

“You know, if no one had ever taken a chance on me, I might not be sat here with you right now,” he leans in just slightly, “everyone deserves their chance to prove themselves. I have faith in you, and what about you?”

“What about me?” Your cheeks wobble.

“Do you have faith in me?” He rests his chin in his hand, watching you intently.

“Y-yes, sir, uh, Thor,” you crackle out, “thanks, I…”

“Good,” he praises and sits up, “I’ll let you finish your food, if you don’t mind that I stay and do the same.”

He swivels the chair and picks up a cracker from his plate. You hum in acquiescence, barely able to muster words. The only permission he needs is your nervous reach for your tea. As if you would tell him to go. He’s the boss.

🏙️

You’re finally let free but you don’t feel as much. You have so much more to do now. You carry with you the folder handed out to each member of the room with an exhaustive overview of your session and the Onyx Road contract.

You sit at your desk and take a moment to situate yourself. This is your priority. Everything else is second tier. That’s as much as Thor said but what are you going to do about Dawn breathing down your neck?

You fix the loose button on your cardigan that comes undone now and again, right at the worst spot; the middle. You pull the bottom straight and clear your throat, signing into your computer as you rejig back to work mode.

As you shuffle through the emails you received in your absence, a figure approaches. You delete a redundant communication before you face them. You expect Dawn but instead, an all too familiar face looks down at you. Sitting, Thor seems to tower over you even more than usual. You feel like you should stand as he bends his neck to talk to you.

“I did forget to mention some things early. As you can expect, some details slip through the cracks in such a big project,” he spreads his hand on the corner of your desk.

“Oh, okay,” you grip the arms of your chair as you peer up at him.

“IT will be around to help connect to the shared drives required for the project,” Thor explains as he leans on one foot, hooking the other over it. “You will be dealing with some very important documents. Confidential so you will also need to relocate…” he looks around briefly, “you will be moved to a private office.”

“Uh, wow, that’s… okay,” you nod with a flutter of lashes.

“It’s a lot, I know, but you will be compensated. At special projects rate, no less,” he intones as he drags his hand up his suit jacket and curls his fingers around his lapel. His fingers are so thick. All of him is. And big. You’re getting vertigo just looking up at him. “You be in your new home by the end of the day.”

“Today?” You ask, almost breathless.

“Yes, we move fast around here,” he grins, “but I also wished to tell you that should you require any support, you will come to me. Your supervisor has been informed of your reassignment and your daily duties will be handed out to your colleagues for the duration of this project.”

“Uh huh,” you croak out, “that makes sense.”

“You understand, this is a big assignment. It could require late nights and… business trips.”

“Yes,” you lie. You really hadn’t considered that. In the contract you signed, it was for a desk, there was no travel, no overtime.

“Another matter for us to deal with. Travel pay, extra hours…” he drones as if bored.

“I understand,” you murmur.

He drops his hand to frame his hip, pushing back his jacket as he stays leaned against your desk. His eyes stick to you as they storm in mystery, “I like that sweater. It’s cute.”

You look down at the flower embroidery and your cheeks singe. Compared to him and the other execs, you were a touch underdressed. That’ll probably need to change too.

“Uh, yeah, I…” you fix the loose button again, “sorry, I’ll… I’ll buy a blazer.”

“I mean it,” he drags his hand from the desk and stands straight, “don’t buy the blazer, that suits you better.”

You crane your neck to look up at him again, “thanks, sir,” you fold your hands in your lap, “I… like your tie.”

You immediately want to disappear as the words trickle out. You sound so stupid. He touches his blue grey tie patterned with white paisley and examines it.

“Not one of my favourites, but thank you,” he chuckles. “Right,” he snaps his fingers, “much work to do. For both of us.” He shifts back on his sole, “don’t forget what I said, if you need anything, I’m your man.”

He winks and spins on his heel. You watch him go as tension raises your shoulders. That was awkward and painful. You’re already doubting your place in this whole thing. Before you can turn your chair back to your desk, you don’t miss the errant gazes in your direction. You ignore them as best you can but they sear into your back. You have witnesses to your humiliation, great.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #life in the city #superman #avengers #mcu #dcu #dc #marvel

252 notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 8 months

Note

Hiiiii beautiful. I an idea if you don't want to write it. that's okay. I have this imagine like charles dating an plusize (face claim : Javiera or courtney jean l just loves them ) but when they announced their relationship but she just getting a lot of hate but she just doesn't care about this hate but charles don't like this and release a statement to stop this hate. and again if you don't want to write it that's okay 💞💞

Hate doesn’t bother me. (CL)

hi, love!! and no no, i love this so much! charles is such a protective cutie, this is so sweet. i’m assuming this is a smau, if you want a fic as well, js lemme know! :) 💓

face claim: javiera

warnings: fans being mean, one fat shaming comment (dw, it’s shut down)

note: i have been fat shamed before, it’s not fun. so pls pls be kind to everyone. every single one of these beautiful humans on earth are amazing and sexc. don’t be a cunt.

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

liked by: yourbsf, charles_leclerc, and 325,828 others

y/n.user: panamá is perfect for dates, don’t ya think?

view comments…

user57: why tf did charles leclerc like this?

|> user04: he could js be friends with her? idk man

yourbsf: OKAYYYY YOU ATE BABE🤎🤎

|> y/n.user: AHHHHH ILY🤎

y/n.fp: you look stunningggg

*liked by creator*

charles.fans: isn’t charles in panama??

|> char.fp: hopefully not. she is not the vibe fr

|> charles.fans: ikr?? no way she’s with him

lilymhe: ☺️☺️ pretty pretty

|> y/n.user: that’s you🤭

user19: LILY?? oh naw, i don’t need THIS tdy

_______________________________________________

liked by: carlossainz55, y/n.user, and 915,176 others

charles_leclerc: panama is beautiful, but i can thing of something more beautiful…

view comments…

carlossainz55: hope you’re having fun this break! miss you!

|> charles_leclerc: miss you too, bro!!

user46: y/n liked this……

|> charles.fans: i knew this was gonna happen, ew

|> ferrari.fp: he is way out of her league bro….

f1updates: these comments are kinda dramatic but i live for drama

pierregasly: have fun😏

|> charles_leclerc: stop texting me.

|> pierregasly: wow. miss you too🖕

charles.editpage: he’s so hot

user10: i refuse to believe that he’s there with y/n, she’s j not pretty like his other ex’s were

_______________________________________________

liked by: charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 469,360 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

y/n.user: wtf is a soft launch?

view comments…

user56: that was bold….

|> user03: nah cuz who tf does she think she is?

charles.fans: byeee😭 this is NOT real

charles_leclerc: we don’t know what a soft launch is😋

|> y/n.user: nopeeee

char.myhub: NOOOOO. HER BUT NOT ME???

ferrari.fanpage: she’s so ugly what is going onnnn

|> y/n.fp: she’s not tho….

|> ferrari.fanpage: she is. she’s bigger than him

|> y/n.fp: ur actually mad bc she’s not a size 0? grow tf up fr. she’s literally a MODEL, and what are you bebe?

|> ferrari.fanpage: shes a PLUS SIZED model.

|> y/n.fp: what’s ur point? you are NOT a model😭you’re fr j mad cuz she bagged charles and you didn’t. grow up

carmenmmundt: you guys are so cute

*liked by creator*

_______________________________________________

twitter:

F1 Wag Updates @f1wagupdates • 3hr

Charles Leclerc, driver for Scuderia Ferrari, has officially announced his relationship with Model, Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N has always faced a certain level of hate for being a plus sized model, and with recent news relating Charles, it has only gotten worse.

We ask that you please keep rude comments to a minimum, preferably none. Keep insults to yourself, lets support Y/N and Charles. They seem like quite the happy couple.

*please note that comments on this tweet have been disabled, as we want no hate spreading through our comments*

*comments have been disabled*

_______________________________________________

liked by: charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, and 639,013 others

y/n.user: vacation is coming to a close :( but i can’t wait to see you shine this year on the track <3

view comments…

charles_leclerc: i can’t wait to have you dressed in head to toe ferrari gear :)

|> y/n.user: i can’t wait either, my love

user71: i genuinely can not accept this

charles.fanpage: shes so ugly, pls break uppppppp

carlossainz55: excited to have a new face in the paddock! can’t wait to meet :)

|> y/n.user: awe, i can’t wait to meet either! charles rly talked you up

|> carlossainz55: he did??

|> charles_leclerc: no…

user49: this is not real this is not real this is not real

yourbsf: stunner

|> y/n.user: i miss you

|> yourbsf: i miss you sm more

_______________________________________________

your instagram story:

seen by: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, and 499,012 others

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, pierregasly, and 1,103,944 others

charles_leclerc: i don’t know what i did to gain such an angel in my life. someone who makes me smile from a simple text notification to seeing you when i wake up. i can not fathom the hate my girlfriend is receiving. you do not know her or me, don’t go around on social media like you do. i haven’t been this happy ever. don’t compare her to other people, dont belittle her, and do not leave rude comments. i am sick and tired. i love you, ma cherié. it’s a miracle that you can put up with me <3

*view comments*

*comments have been limited*

y/n.user: i love you so much. the hate doesn’t bother me as long as you’re here

|> charles_leclerc: i have no idea how nothing bothers you

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc instagram au #smau

472 notes · View notes

gigabyte-flare · 1 year

Text

There's No Escape (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: You find out the hard way what happens when Leon doesn't get what he wants, after all, actions have consequences, don't they?

Pairing: yandere!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Word Count: 4.8k

If any of the warnings below trigger you, please kindly pass on this fic

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life; if you feel this way, please go touch grass

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL YEET YOU INTO THE GODDAMN SUN. Thank you!

Warnings (may not apply to all parts): Sex, gaslighting, swearing, stalking, acts of violence, blood, dubcon, kidnapping, pet names (baby, doll, angel, sweetheart, etc.), PTSD triggers, unprotected sex, forced breeding, daddy kink, manipulation, oral (m and f receiving), choking, overstimulation, knife play, gunplay, masterbation, drugging. Long story short, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. More warnings may be added in the future

THIS PART CONTAINS EXPLICIT VIOLENCE AND GORE, READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED

Tags: @lipglossanon, @ghostkennedy, @hxllfiredoll, @nexyswrites, @ilookatlater, @shroomietrip, @dollrxst, @lomaeuwu (Shoot me a message or an ask if you want to be added to the list!)

A/N: Ok first off, I did not intend to make this part this long, but I was on a roll and the words just kept coming out (plus I wanted to get to the good stuff, you guys have waited long enough). Thank you again for all the support and love on this extremely self indulgent piece. I tried to proof read this one as best as I could without going cross eyed, so again, please excuse any grammatical errors. Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You both sat in the living room of your apartment in silence. It was some ungodly hour in the morning, you didn’t bother to check. Neither of you could sleep. You both ensured that the front door was dead-bolted and all the windows were locked before settling into the living room. You couldn’t help but feel guilt wash over you as you silently cried. It was never your intention to drag Becky into this mess. You figured Leon would just move on. Clearly you were mistaken.

“Listen, Becky, I’m really sorry,” you say, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Sorry for what?”

“I put you in danger by moving in with you. If I knew Leon would be pulling this crap, I wouldn’t have come here.”

Becky let out a loud sigh, “we’re best friends. You would have done the same for me.”

You nod silently, bringing your knees to your chest and hugging them.

“What I can’t wrap my head around is how he figured out where you worked so fast. Clearly that ‘prank call’ the other day was him. What did you say he did for a living again?”

You swallow hard before answering, “he works for the gov--”

Your eyes widen. The word “government” flashes in your mind like a curse. How could you have been so stupid? It’s a wonder he hadn’t tracked you down sooner.

“He works for the what now?”

“The government.”

You both stare at each other, the silence deafening.

“And… what exactly does he do for the government?”

“He’s some kind of special ops agent. Military training and all that…”

You watch Becky rub her face into her hands, exhaling loudly.

“Becky, I’m sorry…”

“It’s a miracle you’re not dead,” Becky’s muffled voice responds from under her hands before dropping them, “what the hell did you see in him anyway?”

“He was wonderful at first,” you reply, pulling out your phone and opening the photo gallery.

You scroll back to six months ago, when you and Leon first started dating. There were a million pictures of him and the two of you together. He wasn’t exactly smiling in the pictures, but you could tell he loved you. But, then, you notice subtle details in the photos; the way he was gripping your waist too tightly in one photo, his cold eyes in the next. There was one photo that stood out to you, he had you in a vice grip with one arm with his nose buried in your hair while you laughed. It was a candid photo but you couldn’t help but be unsettled by it now, given your current circumstances. This man was a walking red flag and you totally missed it.

“Maybe I should move,” you suddenly say.

“Absolutely not!” Becky exclaims, “we’re in this together! It’s way too dangerous for you to be out there on your own!”

“What am I supposed to do?! It’s not like I can go to the police and be like ‘Hi yes? I have a trained government agent that’s stalking me’ now, can I? They’ll never believe me!”

Becky shook her head, “I don’t know what we’re going to do but we’ll figure out something. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Becky.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was a bright, sunny day in Boston. You were coming out of the Dunkin’ Donuts right down the street from your apartment with a tray with two iced coffees as you made your way down the sidewalk. Your cellphone began to ring, you pulled it out to answer it.

Caller ID Unknown

You roll your eyes and reject the call. Before you even had a chance to put it back in your pocket, it began ringing again. The ID still said Caller ID Unknown. Again, you reject the call, but again, it immediately starts ringing. Annoyed now, you answer it. You hear a voice before you even have a chance to speak.

“Is one of those iced coffees for me? You shouldn’t have, princess.”

“Leon?!” You stop dead in your tracks and look around to see if you see him anywhere, but you don’t.

You hear him lick his lips, “Did you wear that sundress on purpose? You know that’s my favorite one, baby.”

“You fucking pig, leave me alone!”

“Now, now… what have I told you about swearing at Daddy? What a bad girl you are.”

Your heart is pounding out of your chest as you continue to whip your head around to see if you can see him, but you don’t, which makes you panic even more.

“Where the fuck are you Leon?! Stop hiding!”

You hear him laugh on the other end. Pissed off now, you hang up on him and run down the street, being mindful of the iced coffees in the tray. You had to get back to the apartment. You didn’t care what Becky said, you were moving out. You had no clue where you would go, but you knew you had to get as far away from here as possible. You’d drive to the ends of the earth if you had to.

You get to your apartment and rush up to the front door, digging your keys out from your pocket while precariously balancing the iced coffee tray in your other hand. You finally get a hold of your keys and start opening the front door.

“Becky, listen, we need to talk--”

You stop mid sentence as the door swings completely open, letting out an eerie squeak. You let out a loud gasp, dropping the tray and the iced coffees as you bring both hands to cover your mouth in shock.

There is blood everywhere.

Your eyes darted from the kitchen cabinets, to the island, to the fridge; everything had blood splattered all over it. Your eyes eventually settle on something laying on the floor. It was Becky, her eyes open wide and her mouth open in a silent scream as blood seeped from the large gash going across her neck.

You’re frozen in place, you can’t take your eyes off Becky’s lifeless form. You weren’t even gone for an hour; you were just talking to her this morning when she mentioned she was dying for an iced coffee. She had a school project to work on so she wasn’t able to go with you to go get Dunks like you normally would.

Hesitantly, you walk through the door and approach Becky’s body, a small part of you hoping she was somehow still alive. Your whole body trembles as you stand before her. Suddenly, you hear the front door squeak and slam shut, causing you to jump and turn around.

You see Leon, his hand holding the front door shut as he flips his beloved combat knife in his other hand. He lets out a low chuckle as he walks up to you, bringing the blood soaked knife to his lips, licking the blade clean before sheathing it.

“Baby, I didn’t want to have to kill Becky, but she left me no choice. You understand, right?”

“Fuck you!” your voice is like venom as you run over to one of the cabinets, whipping it open.

You start grabbing glasses and throwing them at him, which he effortlessly deflects with his hand as he continues to stalk towards you. You bolt from the kitchen and attempt to get into the living room, however you slip on Becky’s blood, falling to the floor, smacking your face hard against the hardwood floor.

Now dazed, you attempt to get back up but feel Leon grab you from behind by your underarms, standing you up and holding you against his body.

“You naughty girl,” Leon growled, kissing the back of your right earlobe, “Daddy’s going to have to teach you some manners.”

You desperately struggle in his grasp, however his grip on you is relentless. Looking out the window as you struggle, you realize the window has a clear view of the Dunks that you had just come from.

He was inside the apartment when he called.

“You fucking monster!” you scream, slamming your foot down on one of his boots; he doesn’t flinch.

“Oh princess… it seems you already forgot the rules, haven’t you? That’s fine. I have other ways of keeping you under control.”

You hear him grab something from his pocket and before you can react, you feel a sharp pain in the right side of your neck, making you flinch.

“What the hell was that?!” you cry out, feeling a strange sensation start to overtake your entire body.

“Shhhhhh it’s ok, it’s just to help you relax. Daddy’s got you, you’re safe with me sweetheart,” Leon purrs, kissing the back of your head as his hand runs through your hair.

Your movements quickly became sluggish, subconsciously grateful Leon was holding you up, otherwise you would have collapsed onto the floor. Your eyelids were getting heavy and before you knew it, the embrace of darkness took you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was well into the evening before Leon finished cleaning the mess left behind from Becky. One of the first things he did was wrap her body in a blanket and weigh it down with a chain and cinder block before dumping her into the bay. Thanks to his connections in the government, Becky would soon be erased from existence. You were safe in his Wrangler, sleeping soundly. Even if you somehow woke up from the tranquilizer, you wouldn’t be able to open the doors from the inside.

He then began gathering some of your things. He grabbed some of your clothes, toiletries and some of your books and your gaming console. There might be times he has to go out on assignments, so you would need something to do while he’s gone; he hated the thought of leaving you though. Once he was confident he had everything he needed, he locked up the apartment, got into his Jeep and started the engine. He had a very long drive ahead of him.

His destination was a plot of land just above the Northernmost part of Baxter State Park in Maine. He had purchased property up there and built a large cabin shortly after he got back from Spain. While he told you he was out on an assignment a few weeks ago, he was actually up at the cabin getting things ready to move you in. His original plan was to get back to the apartment in D.C. and bring you up there to your new home, however your disappearing act had put a wrench in that plan. He was thankful he trusted his gut and put the GPS tracker in your Renegade.

Thankfully, traffic was light, so he was able to get onto I-95 North relatively quickly. He glances over at you, sleeping peacefully. He could see your eyes moving underneath your eyelids.

“I wonder what you’re dreaming about, sweetie,” he says softly, using the back of his fingers to stroke your cheek before returning his attention back to the road, “I hope it’s me.”

He reaches up to the sun visor above him, grabbing a mix CD from the CD holder and putting it into the CD player. The song “Bullets” by Creed began to play. As the song picked up, he sang quietly to himself as his right hand moved from the stick shift to your thigh, rubbing it tenderly.

As he drove, his mind drifted towards the future. He imagined you finally coming around, living happily together, maybe even getting married. He imagined at least a couple little Kennedys running around the cabin, playing tag or whatever it was kids do these days. He imagined you in the kitchen making dinner and him walking up behind you, placing his arms around your waist to rub your belly that would be pregnant with another little Kennedy; the picture perfect family. He could feel himself grow hard, but he would not stop to indulge himself; perhaps when you both finally got to the cabin. He hoped by then you’d be awake.

He was looking forward to finally making his dream a reality.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Your eyes slowly flutter open and the first thing you feel is the skull crushing headache you have. You wince and try to sit up. You quickly realize you’re in bed. Was all that with Leon a dream? Was Becky alive still? You swing your legs around to get out of bed but you're jerked back by something cold around your neck. You blink, becoming hyper aware of your surroundings. You realize, too, that you were now in jeans and a t-shirt. This is not your bedroom at the apartment. You reach your hands to your neck and find you’re fitted with a metal collar that is attached to a chain, you look behind you; the chain is bolted into the wall.

“Oh what the fuck…”

You try to pull on the chain, but the bolts don’t budge, that’s when you realize your hands and ankles are also bound together by chains. You start hyperventilating.

What’s going on, why am I chained to the wall? Why am I chained in general? Where the fuck am I?

“You’re finally awake.”

Your head snaps up at the sound of Leon’s voice; you didn’t even hear him approach. He’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, only wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that barely clung to his hips. His blue eyes gaze at you longingly.

“You’ve been an awfully bad girl, so Daddy had to punish you.” he says, his eyebrows furrowing in anger.

“Where’s Becky?!”

“Becky? I don’t know anyone named Becky,” Leon says in a ‘as a matter of fact’ tone.

“You fucking liar! You fucking killed her!”

Leon charged over to you, slapping you across the face. You cry out, holding your hand up to your face as your cheek stung from the aftershock of the slap.

“What did I tell you about swearing at Daddy, you dumb bitch?!”

You start sobbing uncontrollably, your body shaking, “I’m… I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what?”

“I’m sorry… Daddy…”

“That’s much better,” Leon cooed, stroking the top of your head, “such a good girl.”

You absolutely loathe calling him ‘Daddy,’ it made you sick to your stomach. Leon sat on the bed next to you, continuing to stroke the top of your head.

“Do we need to go over the rules again, babygirl?”

You gave him a nod.

“Use your words, sweetie.”

“Yes…” you swallow hard, “Daddy…”

“Alright,” he gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, “you remember the most important one, don’t you?”

“Be respectful, no swearing or backtalk… I have to listen to what you tell me to do.”

“That’s right. And?”

“I address you as… Daddy… I think you said sir was ok too but you prefer…” you wince like you have a bad taste in your mouth, “Daddy.”

“Such a smart girl, what else?”

“I can’t leave the apartment… erm…” you glance around the room, “house… without your permission.”

Leon gives you a gentle smile as he strokes your cheek, “see? You remember the rules just fine. However, Daddy had to make a new rule now that we’re here, ok?”

You swallow hard, your anxiety skyrocketing.

“Remember, you need to answer when I’m talking to you.”

“Ok… Daddy…”

He grabs onto the collar and pulls you to him, “when you misbehave, you go into the timeout room until Daddy thinks you’re ready to come out.”

“Is this… is this the timeout room?”

“So perceptive! Yes, baby, this is the timeout room,” he replies before giving you a kiss on the lips.

You reciprocate the kiss as much as it kills you inside to do so. He releases the collar and stands up from the bed. He stops at the threshold of the room, looking back at you.

“You must be so hungry, sweetheart, do you want Daddy to make you something to eat?”

“Yes, please.”

Leon narrows his eyes again in a silent threat.

“Yes please, Daddy…”

Seemingly satisfied with your response, he turns and leaves the room, shutting the timeout room door behind him. You take a deep breath, taking in your surroundings. The room had no windows or clock, so you had no way of gauging what time it was. You look up into the corner and see a camera, you reckon that’s how he knew you were awake; it probably has a motion detector in it. You take stock of your current situation. One saving grace was you were at least fully clothed, but you imagined that wasn’t going to last long. You couldn’t help but regret leaving D.C. to begin with; yeah you were trapped in an apartment in D.C., but you at least weren’t chained to a goddamn wall and Becky was alive.

Becky… I’m so sorry…

You hoped she at least put up a fight. Judging by the gruesome scene you stumbled upon, she had. However, you knew that Leon was practically unstoppable, you remember specifically his kicks were especially deadly. He told you stories about how he snapped people’s necks simply by roundhouse kicking them. However, from the looks of things he simply used his knife.

At one point, you thought that was so hot.

You bury your head into your hands and cry. You felt completely helpless and you hated it. You hated Leon with every fiber of your being.

“Oh sweetheart, please don’t cry,” you hear Leon say.

Again, you snap your head back up and find him in the doorway. He had a plate with a fork as well as a glass of water. As he approaches you, you see that he had made you waffles.

“I made you your favorite. Daddy loves you so much.”

“What time is it… D-Daddy?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“It’s just before 11, just in time for breakfast, sweetie,” he replies as he hands you the plate and fork.

“W-Where are we exactly…?”

He narrows his eyes for a moment, however, his expression quickly softens as he answers, “we’re home, that’s all you need to know, babygirl,” he brings his lips to your temple, giving you a soft kiss.

You fiddle with the fork in your right hand for a second, contemplating if you should try to stab it into his neck. Unfortunately the damn thing is made of that biodegradable shit, you foresee that ending badly. On top of that, it was one of those safety forks that you couldn’t break and turn into a sharp object, like the ones they give to inmates in prison.

That’s what this place is, not home, but a fucking prison.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It’s late; the only thing lighting the living room is the soft glow of the TV as Leon mindlessly surfs through channels in his recliner. The picture was a tad fuzzy since satellite television was the only thing Leon could get working out here, but he didn’t mind. He suddenly came upon an old sitcom, the scene playing out a wife doing the dishes and her husband coming home from work, kissing her on the cheek before taking off his coat. The man’s two children run in, hugging his legs.

Leon felt his heart sink at the sight. There were three things in life that he always wanted: to protect people, to find a nice girl to settle down with and to start a beautiful family. He didn’t really have a family growing up, his biological family was killed having been involved heavily in crime. He was adopted by a police officer, which inspired Leon to become a police officer himself. However, his dream was shattered the night he drove into Raccoon City on his first day being on the force.

To make matters worse, he was immediately taken in by the U.S. Government and interrogated about what happened that night and then ‘asked’ to join a top secret agency, mostly dealing with incidents involving B.O.W.s. His trip to Spain was no different, having been sent there to rescue the president’s daughter. Things were different that time, however, as he was able to get her safely back home after removing the Las Plagas parasite even though he had gotten infected himself in the process. He almost didn’t make it back, but by some miracle, the president’s daughter was able to remove the parasite from him before it completely consumed him.

When he returned from Spain, even though the mission was an overwhelming success, he still felt empty. He had no one to come home to; no wife to kiss him on the cheek and ask him how his day was. No kids to run up to him to give him a hug, to tell him how much they missed their Daddy.

He got up from the recliner abruptly and turned off the TV. He walks up to the timeout room door and slowly opens it. You were sleeping, you looked so peaceful in the low light from the nightlight in the room. He stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him before approaching the bed. He sat down next to your sleeping form, watching you for a few minutes. A smile forming on his lips, he runs his hand up your leg gently, causing you to stir in your sleep.

“L-Leon…?” you wake with a yawn, “is it morning? What time is it?”

Leon grew slightly irritated at the fact you didn’t address him correctly, but he let it slide for now.

“Daddy has decided he’s going to let you come out of timeout,” he said softly, “but only if you do something for me.”

You rub your eyes before propping yourself up on one elbow to face him, your eyes still dazed from sleep.

“What do you want me to do…?” you ask, your eyelids still heavy.

He leans over you, putting his lips up to your ear and whispering, “let Daddy fuck a baby into you.”

He hears your breath begin to tremble.

“Please, sweetie, please give Daddy a baby,” Leon continues, practically moaning in your ear.

You shake your head as tears form in your eyes; you sit up and press yourself against the headboard, and you look down at the tent in his sweatpants. Looking down at himself, his right hand goes into his sweatpants, pulling out his throbbing cock, giving himself a couple strokes, precum now dripping from the tip.

“Sweetie look, you’re making him cry. All he wants is to be inside you and give you a baby.”

Again, you shake your head at him, tears dripping off your face.

He frowns, bringing his free hand up to caress your cheek while the other continues to stroke his cock, “there is nothing to be afraid of, Daddy will take such good care of you when you’re pregnant, I promise.”

“Get away from me!” you whimper, pushing his hand away from your face.

Anger begins to boil within him, the frown quickly turning into a scowl. His free hand then grasps your throat, practically choking you. He watches as you struggle against his grasp, desperately trying to breathe but are not able to.

“You’re going to have my baby whether you like it or not, so we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, sweetheart. The choice is yours and I can tell you right now, you will not like the hard way,” he growled, tightening his grip on your throat.

“I… I… I’m….” you try to speak, but his grip on you is too tight.

Leon sees this and loosens his grip on you.

“I-I’m sorry Daddy, I’m really sorry Daddy. I’ll give you a baby, please don��t hurt me…”

A sinister smile overtakes him. He removes his hand from your throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he says, standing up, “you’re gonna make Daddy so happy.”

Leon grabs your jeans, ripping them off your body, only leaving your thin lace panties. He then removes his sweatpants, now completely naked.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commands.

You quickly comply, propping yourself up on your hands and knees. He kneels onto the bed as he looms over you, pushing you forward into the bed so that your ass is in the air.

“I was going to treat you and eat your pussy out before I pound a baby into you, but since you insist on being a bad girl, we’re skipping the foreplay tonight.”

“I’m sorry D-Daddy!” you cry, your voice muffled into the bed, “I’m sorry for being a bad girl…”

Ignoring you, he can’t help but see the dark spot on your panties; he lets out a low chuckle.

“Look at how wet you already are! And here you are telling me that you don’t want this. Silly girl…”

His fingers grab your panties and rips them off you, tossing them aside. He gazes upon your glistening pussy, unconsciously licking his lips. Grabbing your hips, he buries his mouth into your leaking hole, lapping up your juices. He hears you let out a soft moan.

“Oh fuck… your pussy tastes so good, I know I said I wasn’t going to eat you out, but I couldn’t help myself when your pussy was begging for Daddy’s tongue.”

He sits back up, grasping his cock in one hand while he aligns it up to your entrance. Without warning, he begins vigorously thrusting into you. He grabs your ass with both hands, putting all his energy into every trust. At first, he could hear quiet whimpers come out of you, watching your fingers claw into the sheets. He readjusts himself so that he was kneeling on one knee, giving himself a better angle to pound into your cervix. Now you were letting out loud moans, pushing your hips back to meet his eager thrusts.

“Oh, what a good girl you are! Daddy’s perfect little angel.”

His hands run up the sides of your body, slipping beneath your shirt and grabbing hold of your breasts. You moan his name as he rolls your nipples between his fingers.

Again with you not addressing him correctly…

He lets out a sigh, deciding it was fine, you get so drunk on his cock, so he decided a little lapse in the rules in the heat of passion was fine. Grabbing hold of your chest, he pulls you up so that your back is against him as he continues to pound into your hungry pussy.

“My princess loves Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she? You can’t hide that from me no matter how hard you try,” he growls before pulling out of you and turning you around to face him.

He pushes you back down onto the bed, pushing your legs forward and draping them onto his shoulders. He sheathes himself back into you, leaning in to devour your lips.

“D-Daddy… I’m… I’m… I’m gonna…”

“Don’t cum yet, sweetie, wait and cum with Daddy, ok?”

You nod, letting out a whimper and leaning your head back onto the pillow, your eyes rolling into your head as he continues his assault on your pussy. He can feel that he’s close to his release; in preparation for this his thrusts become short but intoxicatingly deep, causing him to let out a low, animalistic growl.

His growl must have affected you because he felt you instantly cum on his cock, causing him to hit his own release, shooting hot ropes of cum into you as he pressed into you. He held himself there for several minutes until his cock stopped pulsating. He slowly pulled out and looked down at you, admiring his handiwork. He watched his cum start to leak out, using his fingers, he scooped it up and pushed it back into you. He didn’t want to waste a drop.

“Stay like that ok, sweetie? Daddy has to go get the keys to bring you out of timeout.”

Grabbing his sweatpants off the floor, he slips them back on before walking back out into the kitchen. The sun was just starting to come into the windows. He walks up to a safe that’s embedded into the wall; it's the kind with the turn style lock. He inputs the combination, grabbing a couple keys from it before shutting it. He goes back into the bedroom, smiling when he sees you haven’t moved.

What a good girl.

He walks up to the bed, unlocking your collar first before removing the chains from your wrists and ankles. He then picks you up effortlessly, bridal style, taking you out of the timeout room and into the master bedroom. He gently lays you down, giving you a kiss on the forehead. He then climbs into bed next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, falling asleep within seconds.

Part 4

#there's no escape #gigabyte writes #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy smut

928 notes · View notes

foxy-eva · 10 months

Note

I was wondering if you had any spencer Reid fics with reader who doesn’t work for the BAU

Thank you

Yes of course! Most of my fics are non-BAU!Reader or don't specify their job. Here's a little selection for you.

Heart Language: Spencer has a crush on his doctor (and the feeling is mutual)

Cowboy Like Me: Spencer fulfills his wife’s childhood dream

Safekeeping: Spencer is there to protect Reader when a situation gets out of hand.

Pretty Boy: Seeing how Spencer would do anything to make their daughter smile never fails to warm his wife’s heart

Reflections: The kindness Spencer Reid shows to a child seems to impress Reader a little too much

Summer Nights: Summer may come to an end but the kisses Spencer Reid shares with Reader will not

Side by Side: Spencer Reid is mesmerized by Reader on their first date and is surprised that she apparently feels the same way about him

Sleepy Golden Storm: Reader and Spencer Reid enjoy some morning cuddles

Forever Has A Nice Ring To It: When Spencer Reid finally finds the courage to express his love for Reader, both of them realize that forever has a nice ring to it

The Only Hoax I Believe In: Spencer Reid struggles with his addiction after prison until Reader is determined to help him, no matter the cost

NSFW under the cut, minors DNI!

26 Things (series): 4-part series about Spencer Reid helping Reader check off everything on her bucket list - even the explicit things

In Full Bloom: A random interaction between Spencer Reid and Reader leads to weeks of longing and yearning until they decide they have spent enough time being strangers

Second Time’s a Charm: Back in college Spencer Reid and Reader left many things unsaid. Years later they give it another try.

Slippery Slope: Spencer slips in the shower, his roommate comes to the rescue

Novelty: Spencer guides Reader through a night full of firsts

Call Me: Spencer discovers new ways to feel close to his girlfriend while working on a case

Sunday Morning: Spencer really enjoys Sunday mornings with his girlfriend

Daring & Decent: After getting teased about his girlfriend’s profession, Spencer feels insecure and needs her to show him that he is everything she needs

Movie Night: Spencer didn’t know that having a movie night was a synonym for having a make-out session with Reader but he sure didn’t mind

Summer in the City: Having a roommate who decided it was too hot to wear clothes suddenly made the heatwave much more tolerable for Spencer

Ever Expanding: Spencer and his wife decide it’s time to expand their family

Closer: When Spencer Reid comes home after being gone for too long he and Reader can’t wait to feel each other as close as possible

Washed Away: Spencer Reid knows exactly how to help Reader unwind after a stressful day

Duet: Letting the love of his life get away was Spencer’s biggest regret, so he decides to go after her

Find my general MASTERLIST here

Still looking for more? Check out @imagining-in-the-margins Collection for non-BAU!Reader fics!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction

480 notes · View notes

aemonds-fire · 11 days

Text

Dragon Girl - Oneshot - Revised Version

Aemond really likes a lady in red.

Pairing: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Word Count: 3580

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, SMUT, profanity, she/her pronouns, p in v sex, unprotected sex , fingering.

Fact - NARS makes a shade of red lip color called Dragon Girl. I couldn't leave that alone.

Author's Notes: AU Aemond did not lose his eye, but has the scar in this. This was a very early fic of mine. I've cleaned it up a bit. My masterlist will link to this version and not the original.

Enjoy! Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

On a Monday morning, you're sitting at your desk in your little home office, going through emails, when one from your co-worker and friend Sara gets your attention. It’s about a get-together she’s organizing at Greyjoy’s, a favorite hangout when everyone still worked in the office. You check the recipient list and see most of the people from your department, along with some of the newer people you haven’t actually met yet.

Sometimes you miss being with people at the office, but you’ll take advantage of the benefits of working from home. You send off your response, stating that you'll be there and get back to work.

You and Sara usually keep a running chat going while you work. She tells you about life as a new mom and gets on you about your social life, or lack of one. Today the two of you are chatting about your boss, Larys, scheduling a late afternoon meeting for Friday, and looking forward to getting together at Greyjoy's.

"I can’t believe the one time you actually have a date, Larys has to schedule a late meeting," Sara complains.

"Sara, it’s not a date. I’m just meeting a friend for dinner," you reply. "I’ll get ready at lunch, hope Larys keeps the meeting short, and pray that I don’t get stuck in traffic."

"How’s the response for Greyjoy’s? You ask. “Are a lot of people coming?"

"Some can’t make it, but we’ll have a good group of people," she replies. "But I haven’t heard a response from our mystery man yet."

You knew Aemond Targaryen was the "mystery man" she was referring to. He joined the company after everybody started working remotely. Targaryen is a pretty well-known name; it's one of those ‘old money, filthy rich’ families based in Kings Landing. Since then, you've been trying to figure out why he is working at a small, independent company. Also, he never turns on his camera for meetings, and his profile pic is some kind of dragon symbol, which makes the two of you quite curious.

Through your jobs, you have fairly regular contact with Aemond via emails, chats, and calls. He seemed very quiet and reserved at first, but over time, he’s loosened up a bit. You feel that the two of you get along pretty well, though you’ve heard from Sara that not everyone cares for him. She told you that Cregan Stark can’t stand Aemond, saying he has a chip on his shoulder.

On Friday, you get ready to go out after work while on your lunch break. Once you dress, you put on your favorite red lipstick before getting back to work. Soon your meeting reminder comes up, and you join a bit early. Sara and a few others are already on.

Sara sees you and says, "Hi lady, looking hot! Date night tonight. Ohh, that red looks good on you!" You smile shyly, a little embarrassed, and message her privately, “Thanks, Sara. Do you really need to announce to everyone that I'm going out? And it’s not a date!”

Larys finally joins, and the meeting begins. To no one’s surprise, this meeting was really unnecessary or could have waited until next week. Larys finally begins to wrap it up, but before he does, he asks Aemond a question, but there is no response from him for a moment. Aemond finally responds, apologizing for his momentary distraction.

The next work week passes fairly quickly—nothing out of the ordinary. It’s Wednesday, and as usual, you are chatting with Sara.

"Hey, do me a favor; the next time you talk to Aemond, ask him if he’s coming to Greyjoy's." Sara types in the chat. "I haven’t heard back from him, and I’m dying to see what he looks like."

You chuckle as you answer, "I’ve talked to him a few times already this week; it's unusual for him to call this much. Oh, he asked me how my date went. Thanks, Sara."

"He calls you; I just get emails from him, and he asks a non-work-related question? Hmmm, anything else?" she asks.

"Yeah, he said the red lipstick looked good on me," you tell her.

"So you get calls, a question, and a compliment? In a few days? That’s more than I’ve gotten from him in six months," she says. "Funny. I say you have a date, and he pays attention."

"Oh, stop; you're making something out of nothing," you tell her. "But he does sound hot. Kind of low and sexy, with a bit of an accent."

You’re pretty much caught up with your work, so you decide to message Aemond about joining the group next weekend.

"Hi Aemond. Did you get Sara’s email about everyone getting together next Saturday?"

"Yes, I did," he responds.

"Are you going?" you ask.

"I haven’t decided. It’s not really my kind of thing, and I’d only go for one reason," he replies.

"What reason is that?"

He replies, "To see you."

"Oh, you’re funny," you say.

After that, there was no response from him, but a few minutes later, you get an incoming call from him.

"Yes, Aemond," you answer.

"I’m not being funny; I’m serious. I would only go to see you."

"Well, I’m flattered, but you still haven’t said if you are going or not," you remind him.

"I have a better idea. Meet me at Sapphires for a drink on Friday," he asks.

You are not sure what to say for a moment, since you weren’t expecting this.

Sensing your hesitation, he adds, "Just a drink or two. If you don’t like me, it’s not like you actually see me at work."

You give in to your curiosity and decide to accept. "Alright, Sapphires on Friday, but give me your number since I have no idea how to find you there."

"Don’t worry, I’ll find you, but we’ll exchange numbers anyway."

With the summer heatwave continuing, you opt for a simple navy blue dress and add your favorite red lipstick as a final touch before heading out to meet Aemond.

Sapphires, a cozy cocktail bar, has a chill ambiance and eclectic decor. Cool air conditioning, contemporary music, and softer light greet you as soon as you step through the black doors. Glancing around, you notice a tall man with beautiful silvery blonde hair standing at the end of the bar, looking directly at you.

As he begins walking towards you, 'Please let that be Aemond' is your only thought.

He wears black pants and a button-down black shirt, his sleeves rolled up on his arms. His hair is long and loose, and the way he looks at you is part smile, part smirk, which you find very alluring.

"Glad you could make it," he says charmingly. "You look lovely this evening. That red is such a pretty color on you."

‘Damn, he’s handsome.’ "Aemond, hello and thank you. It's good to finally meet you," you say, grinning at him.

He responds, 'The pleasure is all mine. I have a table for us in the back."

As he leads you to a small corner booth, he asks what you would like to have. While you sit down, he places a drink order with the bartender before joining you. You exchange a few pleasantries before your drinks are quickly brought over.

"Thank you," you say. As you take a sip of your wine, you take in his features. His face is angular, with sharp edges, and a scar runs from his forehead, through his brow, and down his cheek. His eyes are a beautiful blue.

"You’re welcome. Have you been here before?" he asks, his long, slim fingers resting on his glass.

"Yes, but it’s been a while. It hasn’t changed, though," you tell him. "Do you come here often?"

Aemond nods. "Yes, a few times. I prefer a more relaxed atmosphere."

The conversation is flowing easily, along with another round of drinks and a shared appetizer plate. As the evening progresses, you are pleasantly surprised by how much you enjoy his company and how attractive you find him. You try to keep your gaze subtle, noticing the contrast of his shirt against his pale skin and the veins running up his forearms. You also sense the attraction is mutual, catching quick, enticing stares from him.

You bite your bottom lip as you debate asking him something you've been dying to know.

Aemond arches his brow, watching you. "There you go again, biting that lip.” He looks amused as he adds, "You know you do that when you’re trying to decide whether or not to say something."

"I do?" you say, surprised by his observation.

Aemond gives you that little half smirk again: "Yes, you do. Now, what do you want to ask me?"

"It's none of my business, and you don't have to answer, but I have to ask,” you begin, hoping he doesn’t think you are trying to pry. “Your family is a big deal; why are you here working for our little company?"

"It’s complicated," he sighs. He hesitates for a moment before continuing, "My father plays favorites, and I’m not his favorite. After I got my degree, I tried working for the family company, but I soon realized it wouldn’t matter what I accomplished or how hard I worked. It’s already been decided who inherits and who gets what corporate titles."

"I suppose family and business can get messy," you say with an understanding nod.

"My family is messy to begin with, so I decided to strike out on my own," he shrugs.

He continues on about his family, telling you a little about his parents and his siblings. He continues into a little of his family’s long history, including a very old family legend.

You grin at him and say, "Wait, let me get this straight. An ancient Targaryen legend says your ancestors rode fire-breathing dragons. Seriously, what were they smoking?"

He chuckles, "That is the legend. We were a family of dragonriders."

You look at him playfully and say, "I can see you riding a huge dragon. I see black leather, a long coat, a sword, and your hair blowing in the wind. You could pull that off."

"Do you think so?" he asks with a laugh.

You say, "You would certainly look good," unable to contain your flirtatiousness.

Aemond leans closer to you, not even trying to hide the seductive look in his eyes. "Do you know what really looks good?" he asked, his voice low and pure temptation to your ears. "Those pretty red lips of yours," he said.

He reaches across the table and runs a finger along the back of your hand, then gently grasps it and rubs his thumb over your skin.

"I can’t stop thinking about those lips; they're driving me crazy."

You find yourself angling closer to him, partly encouraged by the wine you've had and the powerful attraction to him you're feeling.

"Just curious, but what exactly have you been thinking?" you ask as you gaze into his eyes.

"Hmm, I’d rather show you than tell you," he says, his voice smooth as silk. Moving even closer, you can feel his breath on your neck. When you turn your head a little more towards him, he lets his lips graze across yours. When you part your lips slightly, he kisses you slowly before pulling back slightly.

He brushes his lips against your ear and whispers, "I really want to take you home with me, or go home with you."

You don’t remember the last time you’ve been this attracted to someone this quickly. Just looking at him, you're already getting wet. The glasses of wine you’ve had are just enough to help you make an impulsive decision. As you brush back a lock of his silvery blond hair, you whisper in his ear. "I think I’ll take you home with me. My house is ten minutes from here.”

Aemond quickly pays, leading you out to the parking lot. He insists that you ride with him because you've had several drinks. When you reach his sleek black car, he kisses you again, pushing you against the vehicle before opening the door for you.

During the short drive to your house, you can’t keep your eyes off of him. He has an amazing profile, with a perfect aquiline nose and a jawline that doesn’t quit.

When you reach your front door, you hope he doesn’t notice the slight shaking of your hands as you unlock it. Leading him inside, you turn on a lamp while he glances around your small but comfortable home.

Setting your purse down on the couch, you ask if he wants anything.

“Only you,” he responds, slipping his arm around your waist and drawing you against his slender body. His hand moves to the back of your neck, drawing you in for a kiss, while his other hand grips the curve of your hip. He hums against your skin, "I could kiss you for hours. So pretty." He lavishes attention on your lips, sucking and nipping, slipping his tongue into your mouth to entwine with yours.

Your arms wrap around his slim waist, pulling him to you. "You’re not so bad yourself," you whisper breathlessly, returning his kisses with equal fervor. Your hands feel nothing but hard, lean muscle on his body.

He moves on from your kiss-swollen mouth, caressing your neck with his lips and tongue. "Every meeting, I think about how pretty you are. Then you wear that fucking red lipstick. Drove me crazy; all I could think about was that pretty mouth." His voice was low and husky.

You feel his hand moving down your thigh, sneaking under the hem of your dress to squeeze your bare flesh. "Am I living up to your expectations?" you ask prettily as you extricate yourself from his grasp. "The bedroom is this way," you say, taking his hand and leading him down the hallway.

You stop in the middle of your room, holding your hair up. "Want to unzip me?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him. The blatant desire on his face excites you, sending shivers through your body.

"My pleasure," he whispers, kissing the back of your neck before slowly pulling down the zipper of your dress, placing soft, wet kisses down your spine as he goes. You hum as you feel your skin tingle and shrug your arms out of your sleeves, letting the dress fall to the floor, before stepping out of it and turning to face him while saying a silent prayer of thanks that you decided to wear the pretty lace bra and panties set.

"You’re overdressed; let me fix that," you say as you start unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a patch of blonde hair in the center of his chest. You mimic his kisses as you bare his chest, trailing your lips on his skin. You inhale the scent of him, clean and woodsy, as you taste him, your tongue teasing his nipples, feeling him breathe deeply. Soon you feel his hand in your hair, pulling you back up for another kiss.

As he palms your breasts, Aemond moans into your mouth, kissing you deeply, before reaching around and unfastening your bra. "Perfect fucking tits," he says as he cups them, feeling their weight in his large hands, his thumbs teasing your hardened peaks. He steadily moves you back until you reach your bed. "Lie down," he whispers in your ear.

You turn and crawl onto your bed, giving him a great view of your ass, before settling on your back in the middle of the bed, propped up on your elbows. You watch him strip down to his boxers, his erection straining against the silky fabric, while he never takes his eyes off of you.

You can feel the wetness leaking from your pussy at the sight of him. Long and lean, with defined muscles, you can’t believe how good he looks. With a sigh of appreciation, you gaze at him seductively, exclaiming, "Fuck, you're gorgeous."

With a sly, sexy smirk on his face, he gazes at you. "Take off your panties for me," he instructs you, staring as you comply while palming his cock over his boxers. "Good girl, now show me that beautiful pussy of yours."

You shiver at his silky, smooth voice before spreading your legs wide to give him a full view of the most intimate part of your body. "Like what you see? Your voice is low with arousal. Your entire body is aflame with lust, and he has barely even touched you.

"Mmm, yes, I do," he replies as he takes off his boxers, his hard cock springing free. "Like what you see?" he asks teasingly before coming over to lie down next to you.

You can’t help licking your lips when you see his very nice-sized cock, flushed with red at the tip. "I like it a lot," you say, nodding your head.

Aemond lowers his head to suck on your nipple, flicking his tongue over it as he slides his hand over your belly and down between your thighs. He moistens his fingers in your wetness, massaging your clit. "You’re already wet for me," his voice whispers against your breast.

You can feel his hard cock against your thigh, hot against your skin. You tangle your fingers in his hair, gasping as he slips a long finger into you, then another, pumping them in and out, curling his fingers to rub the spot of nerves inside you, and brushing his thumb over your clit. You already know you're not going to last long; the tight pleasure builds within you.

"After you come on my fingers, I’m going to turn you over and fuck you," he says between nips on your breast. "You're going to feel so good around my cock; I know it." When he adds a third finger, you can't help but moan, fisting your bed's covers.

Your orgasm hits soon after, with your walls clenching around his fingers as he keeps working them back and forth.

As you lie there panting and wait for your heart to stop pounding, he removes a condom from his pants pocket.

You roll to your side and playfully drag your fingernails along his thigh as you say, "I hate those. Everything is good on my end—all clean with an IUD. I'm willing to skip that, if you are."

Dropping the foil packet on the floor, he said, "Good here too. Now turn over so I can fuck you."

Pulling yourself up on your knees, you feel him move behind you, pushing down on your back slightly while he guides his cock to your entrance. Slowly, inch by inch, he pushes his hard length into you, causing you to gasp at the fullness you feel.

"Fuck, so tight," he hisses, drawing back halfway before plunging back into you. "Put your hands behind your back," he said, holding your wrists together in one of his large hands. Soon, he sets a steady pace, pumping smoothly. "Mmmm... you’re taking my cock so well," he said, praising you.

Every time he pushes his body against yours, soft whines come from your mouth. "Yesss, fuck…" turning your face against your pillows. You feel you will go insane from the sensation of him repeatedly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, driving himself deep into you again and again.

"Keep making those pretty noises for me," he says, snapping his hips harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin louder, and your whimpers become little cries from the tightening coil of ecstasy deep within you. "Such a good girl," he tells you.

With your wrists pinned behind your back, you’re reduced to mewling pleas, "Don’t stop…close, Aemond," feeling an intense climax building quickly. A few more hard thrusts are all it takes to make you shudder with spasms of euphoric release, leaving you unable to get out more than strangled whines.

Your orgasm causes you to clench around his cock, earning you a grunted "Fuck..." from him. His pace becomes erratic; his fingers dig into your skin as you feel his cock begin to twitch inside you, followed by hot spurts of cum.

Aemond finally releases your wrists, wrapping his arm around your waist and helping hold you steady as you both reel from the aftershocks. He slowly pulls out of you, both of you collapsing onto the bed, panting. He gathers you into his arms, placing soft kisses on your shoulder. "Fuck, that was amazing," he murmurs. "You good?"

"Mmm, gonna feel that tomorrow," you say, smiling when you see his look of concern. ‘Worth it," you tell him, snuggling against him.

"Sorry," with another soft kiss. "Let me stay, and I’ll make breakfast in the morning," he whispers in your ear.

"Deal!" you laugh. "Be right back," you say, moving to get up. You grab a long T-shirt before heading into the bathroom, and then return with a damp washcloth for Aemond. "Just toss it in the hamper. I’ll get us some water and snacks."

Once you’re settled back in bed, relaxing next to Aemond, you remember something that makes you start to laugh.

"What’s so funny?" he asks.

"I just remembered what that shade of red lipstick you like so much is called," you say, grinning at him. "Dragon Girl,"

He looks at you, chuckling, and says, "I guess this is just meant to be."

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond smut #aemond #modern aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #ewan mitchell

146 notes · View notes

avastrasposts · 6 months

Text

A Baker's Dozen - One

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

This is my first original fic after The Pilot and his Girl and it will be a very different read (just in case you're totally traumatised by The Pilot...😬)

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve short stories, each set in the same bakery. The plan is to post one chapter every Sunday night so hold me to that schedule when my procrastination kicks in!

Warnings won't be very serious, just lots of fluff, lots of food, some mention of drugs because you know some of these Pedro boys are just like that.

Series Master List

@harriedandharassed tagging you in this because you said you wanted to read anything new ❤❤❤

The drawback of being a baker is that your working day starts when others are still tucked in bed with hours left to sleep. Or just coming home from a party. But you don’t mind all that much, there’s a certain tranquil peace to being awake and working in the bakery while the rest of the world sleeps.

In the warmer months you prop open the back door so that you can hear the birds starting to sing as the sky slowly grows lighter outside, today is just one of those mornings.

The early morning radio show is on low in the background as you prepare the day. Yesterday's loaves have proofed overnight in the cold storage and are ready for the oven, the pie doughs taken out and softening while you prepare the cookie doughs.

People don’t often knock on the bakery's back door before you open for the day, but it happens, so when you suddenly hear someone shuffle and knock, you’re not surprised. Wiping your hands on your apron you turn the corner into the small back room. A man is leaning on the door frame, but not the sexy, romance novel leaning. No, this man is leaning in a ‘lean-or-fall-over’ kinda way. His eyes are covered by large black sunglasses that he pulls down as you spot him, a tired but cheeky smirk on his face.

“Hey, baker girl,” he grins, his voice gravelly like he’s chain smoked all night, “got any sna- oh whoops!” he giggles madly as he loses his balance and tumbles sideways, catching the other door frame before he grabs onto your arms and almost manages to stand up straight.

“You might need coffee, not snacks,” you say, holding onto him to stop him from falling face forward into your apron.

“I’m fine,” he grins, pushing himself upright again but still holding on to the door frame, “I just came from this party, were you there?,” he asks, giving you another over the glasses look, this time clearly checking you out as his eyes drag up and down your form, lingering on your pink crocs.

“Actually, I would’ve remembered if you were there, love the crocs,” he chuckles.

“What’s wrong with my crocs?” you ask, slightly offended, “They’re great for people like me, you know, people who actually work on Thursdays.”

“No, no, I mean it, I love your crocs!” the man says, wide eyed and shoving his glasses up in his wild curls, “I have like ten crocs, one pair is pink too.”

He furrows his eyebrows, giving you a confused look, “Wait, it’s Thursday?”

“Yeah, five am, Thursday morning,” you say, wondering how to get rid of this disheveled man so that you can get back to the cookie dough.

“Fuck, oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck….” the man groans, bending double and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, “I’m so fucked…I thought it was Wednesday.”

He stands up again and you can’t help but feel sorry for him, he looks devastated.

“I was meant to fly out to San Antonio yesterday and take my nice to Six Flags for her birthday, and I fucking missed it!”

He slumps against the door frame and thumps the back of his head against it repeatedly, moaning, “I’m such a fuck up, I’m such a fuck up.”

“Hey, take it easy, I’m sure it’ll be fine, just apologize and take her another day,” you say, putting your hand on the man’s arm to stop him from giving himself a concussion in your bakery, “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“You think?” he says, “I’m not the best at remembering birthdays, I may have missed a few in the past.”

“Well, then she’ll be mad at you, but all you can do is apologize right? And try to make it up to her as best you can.”

“Yeah…yeah…maybe you’re right, thanks baker girl.” He gives you a lopsided smile and you notice the smudges of dark eyeliner around his eyes, “How about those snacks? I’m fucking starving.”

You can’t help but laugh, the man’s a mess but somehow adorable at the same time with his wild hair and stained t-shirt.

“Sure, I’ll get you something, what do you like?”

“Do you have sausage rolls?” he asks, following you into the kitchen, “I fucking love sausage rolls.”

“What, like those things they made on the Great British Bake Off?” you reply, opening your walk in fridge to survey the snack options.

“Yeah, I did this movie once, in England, and there was a bakery next to my apartment and whenever I got back from a party, early morning, I’d knock on their back door and they’d sell me these fat sausage rolls, fresh from the oven, fucking amazing.”

“Sorry, no sausage rolls in this bakery,” you say, “but my cookies will be done soon, if you can wait.”

You turn back to the man and realize he’s wandering around the kitchen, sticking his nose in your bowls, sniffing loudly.

“Hey, don’t stick your finger in that,” you say, “Health and Safety are going to have my license if they catch you.”

“Sorry, I’ve just got the munchies, I’ve been high for like, two days,” he says, waving his arms around, “this place is torture for a high pers-OH! Do you know what I love?”

“No,” you sigh, exasperated, “I don’t know what you love.”

He completely misses your tone as he spins in a circle around the kitchen and you realize that he’s wearing what looks like very expensive pajama pants and no shoes, just socks.

“I love those…what do you call them, like…millionaire’s something?”

“Millionaire's shortbread?” you ask and he spins around to you with a big grin.

“Yes! Those! With like the chocolate and the peanut butter and they’re like the best Reese’s ever, only even more fucking amazing. Can you make those?” “I don’t know, maybe,” you begin and the man actually falls to his knees, shuffling over the floor to you.

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’m dying here, beautiful baker girl, make me happy!”

“Are you asking me to bake for you or proposing?” you laugh, this man is too ridiculous as he grins up at you.

“If you make them for me, I won’t marry you, but there are many other things I can do,” he says, pulling down his dark sunglasses from his head and winking at you from over the edge, his cheeky grin making it impossible to scowl at him.

“Fine, I’ll make them for you, just get up from my floor, please,” you say, reaching for his hand. He takes yours with a bright smile, kissing the back of it, before he stumbles to his feet and follows you over to your big workbench.

“I’m Dieter, by the way. Can I sit here?” he asks, pointing to the stool that stands next to the bench.

“Nice to meet you Dieter,” you say, “sure, go ahead, it’s got wheels on it though so be careful.”

“Awesome,” Dieter says and sits down, immediately speeding across the floor with a kick of his socked feet. He stops himself from crashing into the fridge door by grabbing on to the handle before he shoots off again, rolling all the way over to the open back door.

“Don’t fall out through the door please,” you call after him and you hear him giggle, a second later he comes spinning into the kitchen again.

“This thing is awesome, I need to buy one for my house.”

“Happy you’re enjoying yourself,” you laugh and walk to where yesterday’s bakes are stacked on trays. You’d made a layer of shortbread yesterday, you were planning on making lemon bars but Millionaire’s shortbread will work too. As you bring it over to your work station Dieter rolls past you and stops by the bench. “Can I help?” he asks, looking up at you, his sunglasses back in his messy hair. He’s kinda cute when you think about it, gorgeous brown eyes, and the smile he’s giving you is open and curious with an adorable dimple.

“Yeah, sure, you can be in charge of peanuts,” you say, walking over to the dry storage, “They need to be bashed into chunks with a rolling pin, something tells me that’s something you can probably handle.”

“That sounds fun, please, direct me,” he says, kicking himself over to the storage cupboard on the stool.

“Oops, sorry,” he giggles, grabbing hold of your hips to stop himself from crashing into the storage door, “I kicked too hard that time.”

“Go easy there, Dieter,” you laugh as he untangles himself from the stool and stands up. You get on your tiptoes to grab the peanuts and suddenly realize he’s still holding on to your hips, standing close behind you. You swear you feel his nose brush the side of your head, a quick inhale from him, and then he steps back, letting go.

“Peanuts?” he says, leaning past you and reaching up to grab the bag sitting just out of your reach. His arm brushes over yours and he’s suddenly very close again, his citrusy after shave, mingling with the heady sweet smoke of weed, fills your senses.

“Uhh…y-yeah,” you stutter, “thanks. And the dark chocolate if you can reach it.”

“Sure, this one?” he asks, grabbing the bag of Valrhona from the shelf. This time his chest is pressed against your back, you really should move out of his way, but he’s right behind you, almost pinning you in place, as he has to stretch to his full length to reach. And you find that you don’t mind at all, he’s warm and solid behind you, and this is more action than you’ve had in months.

“That’s the one, thanks,” you say, trying to keep your voice neutral.

Dieter brings it down to your level and you take it from him, expecting him to step back and give you room to go back to the work bench. But instead he stays right behind you, and this time you really do feel him bend down and brush his nose over your cheek, down to where your neck meets your shoulder.

“You smell delicious, like a cookie,” he mumbles and your heart literally skips a beat.

“Th-thanks,” you splutter and when Dieter steps back, letting you move, you avoid his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn.

“S-so the…umm…rolling pin is on that shelf there,” you say, pointing down to your right, “and there’s a measuring cup too, just…umm…just get a cup of peanuts, and put them in a plastic bag and bash away. Just wash your hands first.”

“Ok, I can do that,” he says with a grin and he walks behind you to the sink in the corner while you measure out the peanut butter into a sauce pan.

Dieter gets to work on the peanuts with great enthusiasm until you tell him they’re broken up enough.

“Just leave them there, you can come here and stir the peanut butter while I get the caramel ready,” you instruct him and he ambles over in just his socks.

“What happened to your shoes? If you don’t mind me asking,” you point at his stripey, multicolored socks.

“I’m not sure,” Dieter glances down at his feet, “I had shoes when I left home, I’m sure of it, but after that it gets a bit hazy.”

“You’ve really been partying since Tuesday?” you ask and he nods.

“Yeah, it was a good party so we just kinda kept going,” he grins, “there was a huge pool and we all went in. Actually, maybe that’s where I lost my shoes?”

“Maybe, you could go back and look for them?”

“And miss out on baking with a pretty baker girl? Never!” he chuckles and you’re not totally sure he’s being serious or not, but the grin he gives you makes you hope he is.

“I think this is melted,” he says, draggin the spoon through the silky smooth peanut butter, showing you the bowl.

“Yeah, that looks done. Just pass me that tray of shortbread and I’ll pour the caramel on top.”

“Can I lick the bowl?” he asks, looking over your shoulder as you let the thick golden liquid pool on top of the shortbread.

“I’m pretty good at scraping, there’s usually nothing left to lick,” you say, dragging the spatula around the edge.

“Can’t you be a bit sloppy, just for me?” Dieter grins, standing entirely too close, “It smells so good, I wanna taste it.”

This time he’s definitely flirting, the salacious smile on his face while he winks at you, makes you both roll your eyes and squash down butterflies on the inside.

“Fine, I’ll leave some for you,” you smile, looking back at the shortbread again and scraping out caramel, leaving the last of it on the spatula. Putting the bowl to the side, you hold out the spatula for him. But instead of taking it, he grabs hold of your hand, and licks the caramel off the spatula with a long swipe of his tongue. His eyes don’t leave yours and the whole thing is so over the top you burst out laughing.

“Jesus fucking Christ, tone it down maybe?” you snort, as he abruptly stops licking, letting go of your hand.

“What?” he blushes, “I saw it in this movie, it looked sexy.”

“Yeah, in a porno maybe!” you say, handing him the spatula, and only the spatula.

He takes it with a sheepish look, “Sorry, that usually works.”

“Not in this bakery, I have to work with that spatula when you’re gone, I can’t have it being used as a porno prop, Dieter.” You grab a new spatula from the holder on the counter and start smoothing out the caramel.

“You do smell good though,” Dieter says, still looking sheepish, “that wasn’t just a line.”

“Thanks,” you shoot him a quick smile, working over the caramel, “you smell good too, underneath all that weed funk.”

At this he grabs the front of his t-shirt and sniffs it, wrinkling his nose, “Yeah, it’s kinda obvious, huh.”

“Can’t believe you partied for forty-eight hours, I’d be dead on my feet,” you say, mixing the peanut butter into the caramel layer, sprinkling in some of the crushed peanuts, “Do you want coffee or something while we wait for this to set?”

“Fuck yes, coffee sounds amazing!” Dieter exclaims, dropping the spatula from his mouth, “And this stuff is amazing too, I’d eat a bowl of just this.”

“You’d die of a sugar rush if you did,” you laugh, sliding the tray into the large fridge and setting a timer on your phone, “C’mon, the coffee machine is out front.”

One of the advantages of being the sole owner of the bakery was that you got to decide what to skimp on, and what to splurge on. And the espresso machine was something you’d really splurged on. For a shop that mainly sold take out baked goods, it was way over the top, but it meant you always had great coffee on hand for your early mornings. The machine was already up and running, humming quietly as you started preparing two shots.

“How do you take it, Dieter?” you ask and he winks at you. “Anyway you wanna give it to me, baker girl,” he grins and when you sigh loudly, he laughs and holds up his hands in defense. “C’mon! I had to! You set it up perfectly!”

“How do you take your coffee?” you emphasis and glare at him, but your smile is breaking through and he gives you a playful poke as he comes up and stands next to the machine.

“Extra everything, cream, sugar, any of those coffee syrups if you have ‘em.”

“Why am I not surprised?” you smirk, “A guy who loves Millionaire’s Shortbread, of course he wants extra everything. I bet you’re lining up outside your local Starbucks the morning they start selling Pumpkin Spice.”

“I would never drink Starbucks!” he protests, “Fucking vile coffee and the worst of corporate America. But you can’t beat a good pumpkin spice if you’ve got quality coffee.”

“I’ve only got great coffee here, but no syrup, you want a latte? Double shot espresso?”

“Please,” he says, leaning against the counter next to the espresso machine as he looks over the front of your little shop, crossing his arms. You can’t help the glance up at his arms, the t-shirt hanging on for dear life as it clings to his biceps and broad shoulders. The many rings on his fingers look tiny on his large hands as he grips the outside of his arms, and you’re temporarily distracted by them, and his close proximity.

The hiss of the machine pulls you back to reality, coffee sputtering out of the spouts into the cup. You glance back up at Dieter and find him watching you with a crooked smile, a dimple in his cheek.

“What?” you say, looking back at the machine and begin to steam the milk.

“You really are beautiful,” he says, almost matter of factly, “especially when you zone out.”

“It’s early, and I’ve been up since two am, but thanks, I guess,” you reply, handing him the latte and pointing to the sugar bowl on the counter next to the till.

“I wasn’t trying to make a move or anything,” he says, sounding slightly hurt, “I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you say, immediately regretting your tone, “I’m just not used to compliments I guess, I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I should’ve just said thanks,” you look over at him and give him a smile, “Thanks Dieter.”

“You’re welcome,” he replies, smiling back.

You knock out the used coffee grounds and fill it up again to make your own coffee. Dieter reaches over and grabs four sugar cubes and drops them in the latte, stirring while he watches you work. He’s watching you closely again and it makes your cheeks heat up. He’s got a strange energy of childish mayhem and intense magnetism, chaos that’s either going to make you laugh until your sides hurt or fuck you until you can’t walk straight for a week. And you’re not sure which one you want.

Your coffee done, you add a splash of milk and lean against the counter opposite Dieter, taking a careful sip. He’s wrapped both his large hands around the thick glass and is delicately licking the foam, drawing a pattern in it with his tongue. You watch him for a few seconds until he notices you and gives you a sheepish grin.

“What?” he asks, copying your tone from earlier.

“You really think I’m pretty?” you ask, the question slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, immediately regretting your filterless mouth.

But he gives you a disarming smile, “Gorgeous. Gorgeous baker girl that smells like cookies and caramel and chocolate.”

“You’re just high,” you can’t help but scoff at him, but he just shakes his head.

“No, not at all.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just looks at you, the silence stretching between you until you think something will have to snap and it’s probably going to be you.

The phone saves you, the timer going off just as you don’t think you can stand another second of his chocolate brown eyes looking at you like you’re the snack he’s been asking for.

“Thecaramelisset,” you rush out, breaking eye contact and hurrying back into the kitchen as if another second in the fridge would ruin the whole thing. Dieter comes in behind you at a slower pace, still drinking his coffee.

You pull out the tray and set it down on the workbench before turning on the burner under a saucepan of water, setting up a water bath.

“I’m just gonna melt this chocolate, and then I’ll spread it on top, it’ll set pretty quickly. And then it’s done.” You work quickly, too flustered to look at him and he hoovers just to your side, watching your movements.

The chocolate melts fast, you only need a thin layer, and then you pour it over the caramel. You scrape the bowl clean but leave a generous amount of chocolate on the spatula, giving it to Dieter.

“Don’t burn your mouth, it’s still warm”, you say when he takes it. He doesn’t grab your hand this time, but his fingertips brushes over yours as he nods, and it sends a sharp little jolt through you.

You turn back to the almost finished shortbread but can’t help glancing over at him. His pink tongue comes out and licks the chocolate, this time it’s not over the top, nothing provocative about it, he’s not even looking at you. But you swear you can feel every stroke of his tongue on your own skin, burning hot and wet.

You swallow and tear your eyes away, blindly reaching for the crushed peanuts, taking a handful and scattering it across the chocolate. The Millionaire’s Shortbread is done and you slide the tray back into the fridge, it only needs a few minutes. Dieter remains by the counter, finishing off the chocolate on the spatula as you start to clean up the kitchen and bring out the cookie dough that still needs to be taken care of. You see Dieters eyes widen as he sees the first scoop of dough land on the baking tray.

“Is that chocolate chip,” he almost whispers reverently, spatula forgotten, as he slowly comes over to stare down into the bowl.

“You want to try it? It’s double chocolate chip with browned butter.”

He makes a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head back before he looks at you and nods, “Please, it smells so good.”

You grab a tasting spoon, giving him a generous scoop and watch with a smile as he puts it in his mouth. His eyes close of their own volition as he moans, far too enticingly, around the spoon.

“Oh my god…” he sighs, slowly chewing the dough, “This is like heaven, better than sex, better than fucking coke.”

“Knock yourself out,” you chuckle, “it’s not healthy but it’s sure as hell better for you than coke.”

“And sex?” he asks with a wink, still rolling the dough around his mouth.

“They’re probably on par, but this is tastier than cum.”

Dieter nearly chokes, coughing loudly as you giggle. Between repeated attempts at clearing his throat he points his finger at you accusingly, trying to grin between his coughing.

“You’re…” he coughs again, “You’re a dirty baker girl!” he finally manages, grinning widely as you go back to scooping dough, still giggling.

“I can’t believe I said that, but you did serve it up perfectly.”

“I did, but I never thought your mind was that filthy, I’m appalled” he laughs, placing a hand on his chest in a mock gesture of shock. “Better than cum huh? You have a lot of experience in that department?”

Now he’s winking again, poking to get more details out of you. So instead you take another tasting spoon, scoop up more dough and put it straight into his mouth to shut him up. It works, he grins around the spoon and smacks his lips at the taste.

“So fucking good, definitely better than cum,” he smirks, earning an eye roll from you. “Do you wanna taste it?”

“I’m good, I’ve already tasted the dough many times,” you reply, careful to specify that you’re talking about dough.

“Maybe not like this though,” Dieter says, suddenly bending down and pressing his lips against yours. It almost makes you jump, his soft lips against yours, his aftershave, it all envelops you in an instance. He’s not touching you anywhere else, just your lips, and you can’t taste him, his mouth is still closed. Maybe you should push him off, the thought flits through your mind for a split second. But you want to taste him, taste the cookie dough you know is delicious, mingled with him, so you part your lips, your tongue coming out.

Dieter lets a quiet groan slip out as he part his lips, letting you in, opening his mouth and tilting his head to come closer. You hear the spoon clatter to the floor as his hand comes up and cups your cheek, his big hand reaching behind your neck, another stifled groan from him. He tastes of sugar, coffee and chocolate, all flavors mingling into something enticing that pulls you closer.

There’s nothing delicate about this kiss now, you lick into his mouth, and he offers you all the space you want, holding you close and moaning softly as your tongues tangle.

“Touch my hair,” he mumbles, breathing into your mouth, “I want to feel your hands in my hair.”

“They’re all sticky, Dieter,” you protest but you feel him shake his head, his lips brushing over yours.

“I don’t care, touch me, hold me, I want to smell like you when I leave,” his tongue slips between your lips, and you run your hands through his hair. You can feel it sticking, tugging at his wild locks but he just groans, his hands holding you tighter and, encouraged, you let your own hands run across his body, eliciting another loud groan from him.

Tension is building between the two of you, he is growing hard against your belly, unmistakably turned on and doing nothing to hide it. You can feel heat radiating from your own core, so scorching he must feel it too through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. If this doesn’t stop soon he’ll have you bent over the workbench in a minute, and Health and Safety would definitely have something to say about that.

With a groan and tremendous effort, you put your hands on his chest and push him away. His lips chase yours for a few seconds, eyes closed, a protest coming from him, before he looks down at you with a sigh.

“You taste even better than you smell,” he says, not letting go of your cheek, his other hand still around your waist.

“The cookie dough goes really well with the coffee,” you reply, your mouth quirking up in a smile and he matches it, a dopey look on his face.

“Amazing,” he breathes, "you're amazing, baker girl.”

His adoration makes you tremble, you feel the heat in your cheeks, and he sees it, leaning into your lips. He stops and looks at you for a beat, to ask for your permission, and when you don’t pull away he presses a soft kiss to your warm mouth, so different from the hasty, heated kiss you just shared. This one lasts only for a few seconds, gentle, before he pulls back, his hand slowly trailing along your check.

“I should probably call for my ride,” he says softly, “it’ll take a while to get here.”

“Ok,” you nod, “the shortbread should be done too.”

“Ok,” he replies, but he doesn’t make a move to leave and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

“I really should…” he sighs, tracing his fingertips over your cheek again, “call that ride.”

“Go, do that, I’ll cut the shortbread, we can have some while we wait for your ride.” You lightly put your hand on his warm chest and push him away, smiling, but you really want to bunch your hand in the soft t-shirt and pull him closer.

“Ok,” he says, louder this time, as if making up his mind. He shoves his hand in his pocket, miraculously finding his phone intact as you bring the tray out of the fridge.

The whole thing has set into layers, so you take a sharp knife and start cutting rectangles, slipping them up and onto the tray that goes in your display case, some go into a take away box, two you put on a separate plate and then look around for Dieter, spotting his broad back out by the back door. Just as you come over to him he ends his call, turning around to you with a smile.

“My ride will be here in about twenty minutes,” he says, following you to the doorstep and sitting down. You sink down next to him, maybe a little bit closer than necessary, but he’s wide and takes up almost the whole door frame. Your cookie dough is still waiting for you, you’ll be playing catch up with your baking for the rest of the morning, but it’ll be worth it. This chaotic, disheveled man has made your morning a lot more exciting than usual and you’re a little bit sad to see him go.

“Here, what you came for,” you say, holding out the plate, and Dieter takes one of the Millionaire’s Shortbread.

“I can’t believe you made these just for me,” he grins and bites into it. You watch his face, this is your favorite part of baking, watching people when they taste the finished thing. And Dieter doesn’t disappoint, he groans, loudly, grabbing onto your arm and leaning his forehead against your shoulder, his whole body reacting to the flavors in his mouth as he chews.

“I Iive here now,” he moans, “I’m giving up my career, I’m going to live in your bakery and pay you to feed me for the rest of my life.” He lifts his head up and takes another big bite of the shortbread, groaning again as he looks at you, his eyebrows pulled together, big brown eyes pleading. “How is this so good?” he moans, his tongue coming out to catch an errant peanut crumb, “you’ve got to taste this.”

He holds up the last bite of the shortbread to you, and you open your mouth, letting him place it between your lips. You feel his fingers brush over them as he pulls back, his thumb coming up to swipe over your bottom lip.

“It’s really good, I’m pretty happy with this,” you say, trying to not chew with your mouth open as Dieter looks at you, his eyes on your lips.

“Do you want another one?” you ask, holding up the plate and Dieter nods fervently and groans again as he takes a bite.

“I can’t decide, this or sex, which is better,” he chuckles, and you nod. You know the cake is good, but you can’t help but wonder if sex with Dieter might not be even better.

You sit side by side in the early morning sunshine, eating the cakes. Dieter soon finishes his second one and cracks the lid on the take away box you’ve given him, sneaking a third one with a childish grin that makes you happy to see.

“Seriously, I live here now, I’m moving in tomorrow,” he mumbles, moaning between bites, leaning on you, his head on your shoulder.

“You do that Dieter, I might even let you lick the bowl once in a while,” you say, patting his messy hair.

“Lick the bowl or lick your bowl, baker girl?” he giggles and you give him a light smack, shaking your head.

“Enough with the porn jokes,” you scold him, no menace to your words, he can hear the smile in your voice and giggles again.

“Can I put my head in your lap?” he asks, “Nothing weird, I promise, I’m just really tired suddenly.”

“Ok, sure, but your ride should be here soon.”

“Yeah, I just wanna relax my eyes for a while….” Dieter yawns and slips down the stairs to sit on the last step, hooking his arm around your hips and putting his head on your lap. The warm weight of him on your legs is actually comforting, his arm a steady hold behind you. Without thinking about it you start carding your fingers through his hair, adding to the sticky mess, making it stand on end, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It takes him minutes to fall asleep, a low rumbling snore coming from him.

You keep stroking his head for a few more minutes before you carefully lift his head up and slip out from under him, letting his arm be his pillow. You need to go back to baking, your first customers will be arriving soon and you haven’t even put the cookies in the oven, you want them fresh and warm when the early morning commuters arrive.

Back in the kitchen you quickly scoop the rest of the dough on the trays and get them in the oven and start stocking the display case out front with what’s already done. You’re just sliding the last croissants into the tray when the opening hour strikes and you flip the sign on the front door. You’ve been listening out back for a car to pull up but you haven’t heard anything and once the morning rush starts, you’re swamped and a couple of hours pass before you even realize. When it finally calms down you wipe down the counter and clean your hands before checking out by the back door. It’s still open, but Dieter is gone, as is the take away box, not a trace of your chaotic, magnetic early morning visitor.

Hours later, as you’re about to close up for the day, a delivery van pulls up in front of the shop. A man in a uniform jumps out and comes rushing in with a box and an extravagant bouquet of flowers with a vase. “Delivery for you, miss,” he says, handing you a device to sign your name on, and then the flowers and the box.

“Thanks,” you say but the man is already halfway out the door.

The flowers fill the small shop with their scent, and you place them on the counter, next to the till, stopping to stick your nose into the white lilac and breathing deeply before getting the shop closed up.

You flip the sign and take the box into the kitchen, the back door is still open to let the warm spring air in. Sinking down on the stairs where you sat with Dieter just this morning, you open the box. It contains another box and inside that, a note. But there’s also a mouth watering, rich, smell of pastry and meat coming from the box. Intrigued, you open the lid, only to find a thermal container inside, like a small version of the ones used to keep delivery pizza warm. Inside are six fat, delicious looking sausages rolls. Your stomach gives a hungry grumble and you immediately grab one, laughing as you remember Dieter’s first request this morning; sausage rolls, like the ones he bought in England after party nights.

The sausage roll really is as delicious as it looks and you grab a second one before you pick up the note that came with them.

It's a double folded piece of paper, so thick it almost looks like part of a canvas. On the inside a note is scribbled in a looped, flowing handwriting.

“Next time I’m asking you on a date, baker girl /D”

Part Two

If you want to make Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread, here's the recipe I used.

#dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fanfiction #a bakers dozen #pedro pascal #dieter bravo fluff #the bubble

248 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 10 months

Text

CM Family Fic Rec List

Hey everyone! I want to start by saying thank you so much to everyone who participated - it was so much fun to write alongside you all, and I can’t wait to share everyone’s hard work. You are so appreciated, and you makes these events better.

Without further ado, here are all of the entries + recs for the CM Family Challenge!

SFW S.R. Fics (Pregnancy/Parenting)

Growing Pains: Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.

One Last Chance? by @justanothercmblog: Spencer and his wife have decided to foster a teenager.

Little Genius by @c-m-stuff: You and Spencer are married. You two have a beautiful daughter, who is coming to work with you.

Somewhere to Belong by @fortheloveofwonderland: You and Spencer have only been dating a few months when he drops the bombshell that he wants to adopt a child and it throws you into turmoil.

Who's Your Daddy? by @justawritterwithideas: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father. c

SFW S.R. Fics (Other Family Dynamics)

The Mother Wound by me: Spencer and Reader bond over the difficulty of an emotionally absent mother.

A Desert Bloom by me: Reader has never liked cacti. Spencer finally finds out why.

A Well-Kept Secret by @astrophileous: While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.

Pet Parents by @junipers-archive: In which Spencer and Reader adopt a baby (dog).

Keep reading for other pairings, more of my S.R. fics, and another related Fic Rec Masterlist!

Other Pairings

Motherhood by @foxy-eva: Temily. Emily and Tara become mothers.

May by @gaelic-symphony: Temily. Tara and Emily babysit the Simmons kids.

Maternal Instinct by @gaelic-symphony: Emily/Alex Blake. Motherhood brings with it complicated feelings for new moms Emily and Alex. Written for the CM fandom gift exchange.

Keeping the Faith [AO3] by @masterwords: Hotchgan. Hotch and Derek take the kids to Easter Service.

Going Home Time [AO3] by @/masterwords: Hotchgan. Hotch and Jessica co-parent Jack

Home is Where the Heart Is by @prentiss-theorem: Alex Blake/Fem!Reader. Domesticity with Alex, Ethan, and Reader.

The Sound of (No) Silence [AO3] by @/ArwenLaLaith: Alex Blake/Fem!Reader. Reader and Alex have just welcomed their daughter into the world.

Home by @neuroprincess: Alex Blake/Fem!Reader. Alex finally returns home after one week.

Question of Timing by @codename-mom: [NSFW] Aaron/Haley. Aaron finally agreed to make Haley a mother and she realised that the d-day is now. The issue is: how to convinced a husband afraid AF to be a father to do the last step?

Be sure to check out @darcyfangirlsfrequently's Masterlist of entries, which includes fics for Luke Alvez, Garvez, and Tara/Rebecca!

Be sure to also check out @the-guilty-writer's Masterlist of entries, which includes fics for Child!Readers of Spencer, Rossi, Derek, and Hotch, as well as Emily's sibling!

Gen Fics

Mothers and Daughters by @/gaelic-symphony: When Ambassador Prentiss brings the team a kidnapping case, it causes Emily to reflect back on her tumultuous relationship with her mother.

A Day At Work by @/codename-mom: Platonic. JJ arrived early in Hotch’s office to discover that he was not alone. A surprise guest was with him for the day.

Looking for more?

Keep reading for the rest of my Spencer Reid fics associated with pregnancy and parenting!

SFW S.R./Mom!Reader

Impromptu: Reader learns some shocking news when a case lands her in the hospital.

Painting by Numbers: Spencer is still a little worried about his pregnant wife painting the house.

Practice Run: Spencer and Reader take on Derek’s challenge to babysit.

The Prodigy Path: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

Fairytales: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

Defining Family: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

From the Tree: The kidnapping case becomes personal when Spencer and Reader get a call from their nanny.

S.R. & Child!Reader

Like Father, Like You: Child!Reader. Platonic. In which Spencer’s child comes out as not-straight.

NSFW S.R./Fem!Reader

Domesticity: Reader gets worked up watching Spencer with kids. He notices.

Different Kind of Daddy: After a rough day, Reader has good news for her husband.

Santa’s Gift: Reader asks her husband what he wants for Christmas.

To Have and To Hold: Reader is trying to save her marriage, but Spencer seems resigned to its failure.

Stork Song: Spencer and Reader try to find intimacy again following a terrible loss.

Still not satisfied?!

Check out my extensive Father's Day Rec List!

Thanks for reading.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #emily prentiss fanfic #tara lewis #alex blake #garvez #luke alvez #penelope garcia #temily #hotchgan #derek morgan #aaron hotchner

558 notes · View notes

absurdthirst · 9 months

Text

Surrogate Love {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.9k

Warnings: Surrogacy, mentions of impregnation, emotional distance, fighting, drowning feelings, mentions of masturbation, crossing boundaries, technical infidelity, vaginal sex, ovulation, sex to procreate, cock warming, cheating, oral sex (female receiving), pregnancy, divorce

Comments: When Carol cannot have anymore children, she and Dave turn to seeking for a surrogate. Finding you, Dave grows closer to you as Carol seemingly pulls farther away. Leading to a discovery that will alter the agreement between you and the Yorks and allow you and Dave to fall deeper into a complicated love.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Surrogate Wanted! -Family of four looking for a surrogate to help complete our loving family. -All medical and additional pregnancy related expenses covered. -Plus a fee for carrying the child! -Looking for a young, healthy woman to commit to carrying our child, temporarily moving into our space whilst pregnant and for a few months afterwards to breastfeed. -Must be willing to undergo routine medical testing. -Contact us below if you’re interested!

You read the advertisement over and over before sending an email. Attaching your latest medical and a few details about your family history. Money is tight. Unbelievably tight. And doing this would not only help your financial strain, but you would be doing something wonderful for a family.

What’s the harm in applying? You mumble to yourself after hitting send on the email. Unsure if you’ll even get a response.

“Honey, look at this one.” Dave looks up from his computer to find Carol leaning over his shoulder, reading the email already. “What do you think?” He asks. There have been a few other emails, but they were all unsuitable and this woman has already started providing medical information. And a picture of how lovely she is.

“She looks nice,” Carol says with a roll of her eyes, trying to seem interested as she pulls on her new dress, ready for a girls night out. “Invite her over for an informal interview.”

“Okay.” Dave frowns as he looks over at Carol. “Are you still going out?” He asks. “I thought -“

“My sister needs this,” she says with a pout, “I can’t let her down. It’s just a few hours with the girls. Drinks and karaoke.”

“Okay, yeah sure.” Dave sighs but he nods his head. Carol says that she’s interested in this, she was the one to suggest it. Hiring a surrogate so that third dream baby could happen, but so far it’s been Dave doing all the leg work on this.

Carol lightly pecks Dave's cheek as she grabs her purse ready to go. “Don’t wait up, honey.”

****

Your phone pings with an email alert, asking if you’d be interested in an informal meeting to see if it could potentially be a good fit.

‘Hello, Mr. York.

Thanks for the prompt reply, I would love to arrange a meeting. There’s a cafe just outside the National Mall called ‘Cherry Blossoms’, If you’re free tomorrow we could meet there?

Kind regards.’

The polite response makes Dave interested in meeting the candidate and he quickly sends a reply, agreeing to the time and place. After he does that, he pulls out his work laptop to do some background checks on the person who might be carrying his next child.

‘See you and your wife tomorrow at 1pm.’ You send back, anxious about meeting them but excited about the same time.

****

Arriving at the cafe, Dave sighs and rolls his shoulders back. Aware that the meeting might go horribly sideways since his wife couldn’t drag her hungover ass out of bed to do more than puke in the shower. She was in no condition to come and he had to smother his irritation since he hadn’t told her about this meeting this morning. Instead of dwelling on that, he steps up to the counter and orders a coffee and a muffin, since she hadn’t arrived yet. A quick glance around had told him that.

You walk into the cafe and make your way up to the counter, ordering a hot chocolate before looking around to see if you can spot the couple. A very handsome man puts his hands up and waves to you and you assume that he must be Dave York.

Prettier than he had noticed in the pictures, Dave stands up as you walk over. “I’m sorry.” He starts out, introducing himself and offering his hand. “My wife couldn’t make our meeting this morning. She’s….under the weather.”

You reach out and shake his hand and offer him a warm smile, before taking a seat. “Poor thing, I’m so sorry to hear that! Is she okay? Would you like to reschedule?”

He is surprised that you don’t want to cancel. “Only if you would rather wait to meet my wife?” He flashes you a grin. “Make sure I’m legitimate?”

“I’m happy either way,” you say, before thanking the waitress who’s handing you your drink. “I mean we’re both here, so a chat couldn’t do any harm.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” The background checks on you have come up clean but he wants to know more about you. “What questions do you have for me?”

“If it’s not too personal… Why surrogacy?” You ask before taking a sip of your hot chocolate and humming in delight at the taste.

He had expected that question so he is pulling out his wallet, flipping it open to show you a picture of his family, taken last Christmas. “My youngest, Molly, when she was born, Carol had a lot of complications.” He explains. “She ended up needing a complete hysterectomy.” He had hated it, but it was that or lose his wife and he would rather have her. “That’s my oldest daughter, Alice.” He points to the older girl.

“They’re gorgeous,” you say, peering down at their smiling faces, “I’m sorry to hear about the complications your wife went through. I’m glad to see that both your wife and your daughter are okay though. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Are you okay with using your egg?” He asks seriously. “That would be required, or you would have to go through implantation.”

“Yes, I’m fine with that. Happy for the testing as well… uh… my periods are like clockwork. And I have an app that tracks ovulation.”

“Okay, good.” You don’t seem to think that it’s odd. “All your medical care will be taken care of.” He promises.

“Good to know,” you clear your throat before asking the next question, “If you were to select me, I’d have one hard rule.”

Dave arches a brow and nods. “What is that?”

“You said that you’d require me to move in, I would like at least 4-6 weeks notice before you’re ready to move away from breastfeeding. So I have sufficient time to find myself somewhere to live.”

“Of course.” That’s more than reasonable. “And if you find you would need more time because of the market at that time, I’m sure we can work something out.”

“That sounds good,” you say with a smile, “Just so you know, I am employed. 24 hours a week, I work from home. But I’d be more than happy to help around the house, babysit so you and your wife can have time alone and so on. I graduated college and I majored in computer sciences and I work for a social media company and stay on top of their coding.”

He nods and if he thinks that the hours are low, he doesn’t mention it. Your finances and work are not his concern. It might be good for you to work less while you are carrying the baby. “But so you know, you aren’t obligated.”

“It’s an entry position job,” you say after noticing his reaction to your low hours, “Money is tight and it’s an industry that you’ve got to climb. I took what was available. But i’m an honest hard worker. And I know, I also don’t want you to think I’d expect you to offer me anything until I've met your family and after the medical is done.”

“We pay for the medical, you live with us and breast feed the baby - if you can.” Dave knows that sometimes the baby doesn’t want to latch or milk isn’t plentiful. “And we would pay you eighty thousand dollars.” He holds up a finger. “But no dating or sex during your pregnancy. I don’t want to risk the baby’s health.”

“Yeah I don’t date,” you say with a giggle, “I uh, I’m not the most confident person and casual sex isn’t something I’ve ever had any interest in. $80,000? Perfect. That’s enough to start my life and find somewhere comfortable to rent once the baby is born.”

Now comes his own questions. "Why are you willing to do this?" He asks you, leaving forward and watching you carefully. "And will you be able to give up the baby once they are weaned?"

“Financial stability,” you say honestly, “And yes. I’ll sign anything that’s required.”

"Obviously I'd want you to meet my wife first." Dave leans back, confident that you are what he is looking for. "Once we agree, we could start insemination procedures the following cycle."

“That sounds great. Name the time and place, I’d love to meet your wife.” You say before eyeing up his muffin and trying to work out if you want one. “So what is it that you do Mr York?”

“I work for the DIA.” He sees you eyeing the muffin and takes the knife to cut it in half. He offers it to you and smiles. “Government bureaucrat.”

“Thank you,” you say with your brightest smile, “It’s a bit too early for me to be stealing your food, I don’t have the pregnancy excuse yet. I’m sorry. And whoa. That sounds intense.”

“These muffins are huge.” Dave chuckles and gives a small shrug. “It’s got its moments, but it pays well.”

“Nice,” you say before taking a bite and moaning at how delicious and moist it is. “This is heaven.”

"It's a good little treat." He agrees, finishing off his own half in two quick bites.

“When and where would you like me to meet your wife?”

"Can I call you to schedule a time?" He asks, pulling out his phone. "I don't know when she will be feeling better." It's better you believe that she's sick than just hungover.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think,” you say with a flood of embarrassment. “And is there anything you’d like me to do in the meantime? I could schedule an appointment with my gynecologist?”

"Don't worry about that." He shakes his head and gives you a smile. You are a little awkward but it's endearing in a way. "I'll text you when I figure out how long it will be and we can arrange something? We can schedule doctor appointments after everyone's met and you can give your final decision on if you would like to do this for us."

“That sounds good,” you beam, “Yeah, you can text me anytime.” The next set of words slip out of you mouth before you’ve even realized you said them and it’s in that moment you’re convinced you’ve blown it. “God. I never thought i’d have the baby of a man who looks as good as you inside of me.”

He's shocked by your honesty and for a moment he freezes, but he grins at the mortification that is riding over your face. "You think I look good, huh?"

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Mr York,” you groan, “Of course I do. Shit. You’re gorgeous. I didn’t mean to… Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

"That's okay." Dave chuckles and shakes his head. "Attraction is normal. The first thing I noticed was how attractive you were."

You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your entire face as he compliments you, “Thank you, Mr York.”

"Our DNA will produce a very attractive child." He hums, sending you a playful wink.

****

Almost a month since the initial meeting has passed and everything has been great. You met Carol a few days later and the girls a few days after that. Dave had arranged for you to be seen by the most fought after gynecologist in D.C. and all your tests came back great. He had loaded you up with ovulation tests and the decision for home insemination to reduce stress had been made. Dave and Carol would spend time alone together and once he was about to ejaculate he would finish in the pots provided and Carol would bring them down to you and help with the process.

Dave had just helped bring your last box into the basement they had converted that would be your home for the foreseeable future and you were excited.

"Do you need anything else?" Dave asks as he sets the box down and looks around. "I have changed the locks on the basement door, rekeyed them to the rest of the locks in the house." He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket for the walk out door to the side yard. "So you can go out that door if you want."

“No. This is perfect, Mr York,” you say as you look around your new home, “I insist on buying dinner tonight to say thank you.”

He chuckles and shrugs. "It's Friday, we normally order Chinese." He admits with a grin.

“Let me know what to order and where to collect,” you say before giving him a brief thank you hug. Clearly surprising him in the process.

"Oh- uh, you're welcome." He pats your back awkwardly and shoots you a grin. "The girls are easy. Sweet and sour chicken and fried rice for both of them." They had been introduced to you and had immediately found that you were the most fascinating person they had ever met and had a million questions for you.

“And for you and Mrs York?” You love the girls. They have already made you promise to watch a disney movie with them tonight and you’re honestly excited about it.

"Carol likes vegetable lo mein and spring rolls." He tells you with a small shrug. "Me- I like General Tso's shrimp."

“Got it,” you say with a grin. “Consider dinner sorted. And afterwards once the girls are in bed, we can start the process tonight? I mean I'm ovulating and there’s no point in missing a cycle right?”

Dave nods. "Yeah. We can do that before bed." He rolls his eyes and sighs. "I know it's stupid and superstitious, but would you tilt your hips up with a pillow for at least an hour after it's injected?"

“Of course!” You say excitedly, happy to make this happen for them. “Can you believe that part of you will be inside of me tonight!” You say without realizing just how filthy it sounds.

He bites his lip, trying not to say something dirty in return. He knows that you want to help give him and Carol another baby and it’s not going to work if he gets too close to you. “Hopefully, we’ll get lucky on the first try.”

“Fingers crossed, Mr York.”

****

"I have already told them that I'm going out." Carol huffs as she looks at Dave with a pout. "I can't back out now. I'm supposed to pick them up." She shrugs a shoulder. "I thought we would let the poor thing at least unpack before we start shooting her full of your sperm."

Dave huffs and rolls his eyes. "She's ovulating, Carol." He reminds her. "It's not like we can reschedule that."

“I can’t reschedule this. She’ll still be ovulating tomorrow, honey, we can do it then. And make sure you don’t order me food,” she says as she goes back into the bathroom, “We’re getting tapas.”

It's been fucking months. Months of every ovulation cycle he jerks off into a cup and Carol quickly rushes downstairs to inject it inside you. Months of disappointment when your period comes. You have apologized and apologized, cried about it and offered to go back to the doctor for the fifth time, but Dave can't blame you. He sighs and shoves his hand through his hair. "Do you even want to do this?" He demands, feeling like his wife is just brushing this off when it was her idea in the first place. "It doesn't seem like it."

“Of course I do, sweetheart,” she grits out, before rolling her eyes. “These things can take time. Look I know she’s ovulating now, but why don’t we skip this month. Let her destress and pick it up next month. Plus it’ll mean she can take the girls to their after school clubs for me this week, if you’re not obsessing over her cycle.

Dave sighs and shakes his head. "She's not the damn nanny, Carol." He reminds her, having noticed that there have been a lot of 'favors' his wife has been demanding of you despite Dave telling her that she shouldn't be. You weren't here to fucking pick up the girls. You were here to try to give the family the third child both of them said they wanted.

“She’s being paid $80,000,” Carol snaps, “She can do some work for it. I’m not arguing with you. It’s girls night. I refuse to leave the house stressed, or thinking about your goddamn cum, David.”

"You've been having a lot of goddamn ‘girls nights’, Carol." Dave snaps back, clenching his jaw. "Why don't you stay home for once and be a fucking wife and mother?" It's gone from a couple of times a month to two, sometimes three times a week and he's sick of it.

“I need to support my sister, she’s going through a rough time,” Carol repeats for the hundredth time this week, despite never elaborating and her sister always being in high spirits when she visits the house. “I probably won’t be home tonight. Tanya has suggested we go back to hers after food as her husband is away. I’ll be back mid-morning.”

That hazy suspicion niggles in the back of his mind but he doesn't voice it. Instead he sighs and shakes his head. "Just- you still want to do this, right?" He asks again, this time trying not to accuse her. "If you changed your mind, you just need to talk to me."

“Of course, I do,” she says again, “But you’ve gotta be more patient. It takes time. And sometimes it just doesn’t happen. We can give it a few more months… And if it doesn’t happen then… we can tell her to move on and we will have $80,000 to spend on a dream vacation.”

"We could always have her egg harvested and do IVF?" Dave suggests, still not ready to give up on the idea of having that third child that they had always talked about. He was trained to find solutions and this was something he wanted.

“Let’s just keep trying it like this,” she says before grabbing her phone and her purse and getting ready to leave. “She’s bathing the girls right now, tell them Mommy will see them in the morning.”

His jaw clenches as he watches his wife stroll out of their bedroom as if there wasn't a care in the world to be had. Irritated that she was using you to take care of the girls once again. By the time he leaves the bedroom, the front door is closing and he sighs again, moving towards the bathroom where there is a lot of splashing and giggling.

“Hey,” you say as Dave enters the room, and sees you’re just as soaked as the girls. “Made the mistake of letting them play with their water pistols in the tub.”

“Daddy, are we still watching Frozen tonight?” Alice squeals excitedly as he kneels down in front of the tub.

“Of course, sweet pea.” Dave nods as he looks over at you. “I’ll finish bathing the girls if you want to go dry off.”

With a raised eyebrow you keep looking over at Dave and lean down to whisper to the girls with a sneaky look on your face. “Daddy looks awfully dry doesn’t he, babies.”

The adorable giggles that start to fill the room again makes your heart soar as they turn to face a skeptical Dave. And without a second's hesitation they blasters are being pointed in Dave’s direction, their tiny fingers hovering over the trigger.

"Don't you do it." He warns softly, shooting them a faux stern look. "You don't want to start something you can't finish, little girls."

“3 against 1,” You say with a laugh, “He’s bluffing. We’ve got this… 3,2,1… shoot!”

Dave growls, ducking his head when three streams of water start to soak him and he reaches out to slap his arm through the bathtub to send a wall of water across the tub and the instigator of his attack.

You yelp before bursting into a fit of giggles, “I yield, I yield,” you choke out, as the girls continue to soak Dave.

Dave grabs your water gun and turns it on the girls with ruthless glee as they start to shriek and try to avoid his one barrage.

Watching Dave with his girls reaffirms how badly you want to do this for him, he’s the most loving father and it just warms your heart to see how great he is with them. You watch happily for a few minutes as the excitement dies down and the girls start to get restless and want out of the bath. You take Molly as he takes Alice, getting them dried and dressed into their pajamas before sending them downstairs to get comfortable on the sofa so you can set up the movie.

After you’re all dressed in your pajamas and the movie is playing you in the background you whisper to Dave, “Where’s Carol? I got some tips to help with insemination. I thought we’d try tonight.”

Dave sighs and turns to look at you, honestly hurt that his wife has pushed this off. He wants this so bad and he's starting to become frustrated. "She's out. Something about her sister again." He doesn't tell you that she suggested taking off this month, not willing to speak on it. "Do you think you could....do it yourself?"

“Oh,” you say quietly, “I mean I could try. I read somewhere that inserting it slowly rather than pushing it straight in is a better method. Also I read something else that’s supposed to help, so I can try that at the same time.”

"What else?" He frowns, wondering if there's something that he needs to get you or order you. He's been reading everything he can get his hands on but if you've found something, he's all ears.

“Uh,” you say quietly, before looking over at the girls and checking their still engrossed in the movie, “I read an article about um…” Shaking your head, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone and bring up the article on clitoral stimulation helping the insemination process.

Dave takes your phone and purses his lips as he starts to read. His brows change, lifting and his expression shifting as he delves into the writing and hums. "I- I don't see why you shouldn't try it." He clears his throat and tries not to think about you playing with your clit or anything sexual. This is just supposed to be for making this baby. "But...." He sighs. "That syringe is really long." He frowns, unsure why Carol had decided to pick up a new type when the supplies had run out, but he can't blame her for not wanting to get too close to another woman's vagina. He personally thinks that she is harborning some resentments that she can't carry the baby and is just unwilling to admit it. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?'

“I’m not sure,” you say with a shrug, “Maybe I’ll just focus on the syringe. I just can’t really do the other thing with Carol around as it would be uncomfortable for us both. I just really want to do this for you. The worst thing that can happen is I need to change my sheets I guess.”

"If-" He starts and shakes his head. "No, that would be too much." He blows out a disappointed sigh, aware that another opportunity will most likely be lost.

“Tell me,” you say with a raised eyebrow.

"Only if you're comfortable with it...." he stresses, not wanting you to feel pressured in any kind of way. "I could help you." He offers quietly. "Not like I haven't made two kids before. Just not quite with a glorified turkey baster." He huffs, trying to make a joke of it.

“If you’re sure?” You say, “I mean it’s not like it takes long. I could make sure I’m ready and it’ll be over and done with in a few seconds.”

"Do you think -" He sighs and leans in closer to you. The girls are absorbed in the movie but it almost seems wrong to even think about what he's going to say next. It definitely crosses a line but he's tired of jerking off in a cup. "I could do it there and just....transfer it." He suggests. As it stands right now, he's jerking off upstairs and Carol is then taking the cum downstairs to the kitchen, filling the syringe and then carrying it down to you. Maybe something is happening in transit. "I mean, I could use your bathroom?"

“I mean it’s usually cold by the time Carol gets it in the syringe,” you say with a shrug, “So yeah, downstairs is fine.”

Dave frowns, wondering how long it takes for the sperm to cool down, but then again, it's always cool to the touch a couple of minutes after he cums on Carol's tits. "Only if you're comfortable with it." He reminds you. "I don't- don't want you to feel like I'm pushing boundaries."

“We’re making a baby, right? That’s the endgame here. I think sometimes different measures are necessary. When the girls are in bed, we can go downstairs and go from there.”

Dave nods, thankful that you are taking such a rational approach and he shoots you a smile. "Thank you." He whispers softly. "I know that it's not easy for you."

“I just hate that I’ve let you down so far,” you say, a lump forming in your throat, “I just want to make you happy.”

"You haven't let me down." He reaches over and covers your hand with his, squeezing it gently. "Without you, we wouldn't even have this hope. So don't ever think you are letting us down."

The past few months you’ve gotten closer and closer to Dave, spending most evenings eating together and watching a movie. It’s hard not to feel softened by him, despite his tough exterior he’s always so kind and your heart leaps at his touch. “Thank you, Dave.”

The rest of the movie flies by and before you know it the girls are giving you a kiss and hug goodnight. “I’ll see you in the morning, babies,” you promise.

Dave looks at you and you nod, signaling it’s okay for him to join you in the basement once the girls are asleep.

Dave waits until he knows they are asleep, checking on them and closing the bedroom doors as he walks down the hallway. He checks the doors and sets the alarm since Carol isn’t coming home and swallows slightly as he makes his way down to your basement apartment and knocks on the door.

“Come in,” you say with a shaky breath, you’re sitting cross legged on your bed. “How do you wanna do this? If you need porn while you… uh, yeah, I can wait in the hall and you can set it up on the TV.”

“No.” Dave shakes his head. “I don’t need porn.” He bites his lip. “I know you said you wanted to…masturbate before, so where do you want me to?”

“Wherever you’re most comfortable,” you say before biting your bottom lip, “I’m happy to follow your lead.”

He shifts, the idea that pops into his head makes his eyes widen and his cock twitches. He can’t suggest that. It would be completely wrong.

“We could watch each other,” you say, before looking down at your hands, not wanting to see rejection in his face.

Dave’s heart leaps and his head whips around to look at you. Wondering if he had actually heard that for a moment but you are so fluster it must have been. “It’s just to make the baby.” He reasons. “Right? You’ve seen a dick before.”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod of your head, “It’s not like we’re touching each other.”

“Yeah.” Dave frowns slightly, knowing Carol wouldn’t be happy but Carol’s not here and he doesn’t want to waste an ovulation day. “You can use your wand or hand or whatever and I can-“ he grins. “Old fashioned way for me is best.”

“I’ll use my hand… Do you want to see my tits?” You ask softly, not wanting to assume that he’ll want you to fully strip off.

His mouth goes dry and he tries to swallow. “It’s not like I won’t see them when you're breastfeeding.” He reasons again. “But it’s up to you. However you feel comfortable.”

“Will it help you get off? I don’t mind.”

“I like tits.” He admits, rolling his eyes at himself. “But I don’t have to see them.”

“Okay. I’ll stay up here and you can kneel at the bottom of the bed? Will that be comfortable for you.”

“That will work.” He agrees, raising his brow. “Do you want me naked?” He asks. “Or to just pull my cock out?”

“Naked.”

Dave nods, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping it onto the floor. “Okay.”

The sight of his broad shoulders and chest makes your moan, and you follow suit. Pulling off your t-shirt, undoing your bra and pulling your sleep shorts and panties off in one clean sweep.

You’re attractive. He knows this. He’s attracted to you, and there’s nothing wrong with that. He’s not trying to sleep with you. He’s not trying to cheat on his wife, he’s trying to make a baby so he and Carol can complete their family. He unzips his pants and pulls them down to kick off.

You can’t keep your eyes off of him, he’s known from day one that you’re attracted to him. You open your legs and reveal your glistening pussy to him, already drenched at just the thought of watching him alone. And you gather some of your slick and drag it up to your clit before drawing slow circles around it.

His boxers come off next and he kneels on the bed, hard cock already bouncing as he does. Eyes fixed on your cunt as he spits in his hand and starts to coat himself in it.

“Fuck,” you mumble at his filthy action, only slightly increasing the pace in which you circle your clit. You don’t want to cum too quickly, you want to enjoy this moment.

“You rub your clit.” He groans, spitting again and wrapping his hand around his cock to start slowly stroking it. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels so good,” you say, as moans start to slip through your lips, “You look so good stroking your cock. It’s so big,” you start to murmur, “So thick. You’ve got a gorgeous cock, Dave.”

It’s been a long time since someone paid him compliments, making him feel like they mean them. His and Carol’s sex life has dropped off drastically and she claims it’s just because wanting to save it for when you’re ovulating.

You watch the way his wrist expertly flicks as he strokes himself, and reach up to soft palming your tit with your free hand. Needing so much more than you can get, you start to rub your clit faster and faster, feeling arousal dripping from you as you bite down the urge to moan his name.

“Shit.” Dave hisses, watching your hand tease your breast and he grunts as his hips rock forward into his hand. This isn’t about wanting to bite your tit and suck on it. It’s about cumming quickly and filling your womb up with his seed.

You watch the pre-cum leak from his top, groaning when he swipes it with his thumb and spreads it down his cock, “Dave,” you moan, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Good.” He grunts, shuffling closer to see, although the cup is right there for him to grab when he’s ready. “Open up your pretty little cervix to let my cum in.”

Your fingers speed up as you chase your high, his name falls effortlessly from your lips as you’re thrown over that edge. “Oh fuck.”

“Good girl.” He grunts, twisting his wrist and groaning as he feels the first blurry edge of his orgasm start to take hold. “Gonna cum.”

“Put it inside,” you beg, “Just the tip, baby. Fill me up.”

Dave groans and he knows it’s wrong, but he does it anyway. Pushing his cock down and pushing the fat tip into your cunt, he starts to cut almost immediately. Filling you with spurt after spurt of his cum as he tries desperately not to push deeper inside you. Knowing that would be so wrong and go against what you just asked him to do.

You clench down around the tip of him, loving the way he’s stretching you open. “Fuck, put a pillow under my hips.”

Tilting your hips up with his hands pushes him deeper inside you, making him groan as he reaches for the pillow. “I- fuck.” He closes his eyes and tries not to react to how good it feels.

You can’t help the moan that leaves you as he pushes deeper and presses against the spot inside of you. “Your wife might be the luckiest woman alive.”

Dave exhales roughly and breathes out. “This is just….it’s easier to do it this way, right?” He asks. “Faster than the turkey baster.”

“Yes, and more efficient.”

Dave agrees and looks back down at you. “That article said orgasms before and after male ejaculation helps conception.” He reminds you. “We could- I could stay like this and you can cum again.” He offers.

“I can play with my pussy whilst you’re still inside of me?” you ask, wanting to make sure that’s what he’s saying.

“And…” Dave bites his lip. “If I get hard again, maybe I can try again? Make sure you

ve got a good load inside you?” He knows he will get hard again, that’s no question for him.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Really good.” You say as you run a finger through your slit, before lightly teasing your clit.

He watches, telling himself again that this is only to make the baby. That way he knows if it doesn’t happen, every possible variable has been accounted for. It’s the back up plan. And if he happens to find it sexy that you are rubbing your clit while the first three inches of his cock are inside you, that’s an added benefit.

You circle your clit with a delicious intensity, biting down on your lip as you watch his face. His eyes focused on your pussy, watching your fingers play with your bundle of nerves and listening to the soft moans that fill the room. You can feel him start to harden inside of you, and you wonder how it would feel to have him filling your needy little cunt.

“Shit.” Dave breathes out, leaning over slightly as he tries not to surge deeper inside you. “Does it feel good? Playing with your clit with me inside you?” He reaches down and wraps two fingers around the base of his cock and starts to pump, trying not to touch you out of respect.

“Feels like heaven,” you say, “How does my pussy feel?”

“Like it’s going to make me cum,” Dave grunts. “Then you’re going to carry my baby for me. Our baby.”

“Fuck,” you say, rubbing your clit even faster, feeling your pussy start to flutter around his tip. “The things I want you to do to me.”

Dave hisses and closes his eyes. Knowing that it’s straying into dangerous territory. “Cum for me.”

Within seconds of his command you’re clamping down around him, your clit pulsing with pleasure as you flood his cock. His name is now a chant that you repeat over and over again.

“Shit, shit.” Dave groans, his own jerky pulls on his cock pushing him closer. “Fuck, gonna fill you up again.”

“Do it, fuck your baby into me.”

It pushes him over the edge and Dave can’t help but push completely into your cunt, filling you up as he starts to paint your walls again. “Fuck- I- I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” you moan, “Feel so fucking good.” You pant as his cock twitches inside of you, filling you up with his warm seed.

He shouldn’t have ground into you. He shouldn’t have filled you up like that. It was cheating. Dave closes his eyes and pulls his hips back. “Are you okay?” He asks awkwardly.

“I’m okay, are you?” You say, seeing the guilt on his face and feeling your heartbreak over it.

“I’m good.” He promises you. “I just- I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, I didn’t ask.”

“I was practically begging you.” Reaching over you gently press your hand to his cheek, “We were just making a baby. Nothing else.”

“Yeah.” Dave nods, reminding himself that it’s not like he was trying to fuck you. “Hopefully it takes.” He shoots you a grateful smile.

“I hope so. Best daddy ever.” You say with a smile.

He is grateful that you think that as he shuffles off the bed to put his clothes on. “I should let you rest.” He hums.

“You should rest as well, I’ll stay like this for a half hour and then I’ll go get some water before bed.”

“Okay.” Dave nods, biting back the urge to offer to get you the water. He hadn’t been doing things like that before he stuck his dick in you, doing it now would make it weird.

“You sure you’re okay?” You ask as he starts to make his way towards the door.

“I’m good.” He turns and shoots you a reassuring grin, “just worn out.” He lies. “Baby making is tiring and I’m an old man.”

“You’re not old,” you say with a small smile, sensing his discomfort. “Goodnight, Dave. Let’s hope we just made a baby.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Dave turns back around, “get some rest, okay?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, letting himself out of the door as he curses himself for being such an idiot. He should have known he was going to fuck this up.

Guilt floods you. You practically begged him to enter you, and the regret that he’s wearing so clearly on his face makes your heart hurt. You don’t think he’ll ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you deserve his forgiveness. All you can do is hope you just made a baby.

Upstairs, Dave showers and tries to reassure himself that he didn’t take things too far. You had asked him to put the tip in, and thought you asked for more but he was caught up in the moment. Still, he shouldn’t have done it without making sure it was okay.

Almost 45 minutes passes before you tiptoe upstairs and get yourself a much needed bottle of water and a snack. Deciding that you’ll get to early and make everyone breakfast, you make your way back downstairs and curl up in bed. Praying you haven’t completely fucked everything up.

****

Dave doesn’t sleep. Not because of the situation with you, but because he texted Carol and she didn’t respond. And she’s turned off her location. Not that he tracks his wife, but what if something happened to her? It makes him suspicious and he doesn’t like being suspicious. Not with the line of work he is in. So when he hears the stairs creak, he’s already nursing his second cup of coffee and the oven is warming up for cinnamon rolls.

Creeping into the kitchen, you’re greeted by the unexpected sight of Dave. Your heart once again breaks at the look on his face, clearly regretting ever hiring you and before you have time to process what you want to say, the words are slipping through your lips. “Oh god, Dave, I’m so sorry. I took advantage. You just wanted to make sure that it took, and I was so delirious with pleasure that I didn’t think. I’m so sorry. I let my attraction to you cloud my judgment. Please forgive me.”

"What?" Dave frowns, turning toward you and seeing how distraught you look. You look like you are about to cry and he stands, moving towards you to hug you but then he stops. Unsure of how to touch you right now without it turning into something else. "I took advantage." He reminds you. "I'm the one who shoved it in."

“I begged you to,” you say, tears now streaming down your cheeks. “I’m so so sorry.”

Dave walks over to you and pulls you into his arms, hating that you are crying. "We just got caught up in the moment." He decides, rubbing your back gently. "You don't need to be sorry." It was a moment, a fluke where both of you were acting impulsively.

“I just want to give you a baby, Dave, I see how badly you need this.” You sob into his shoulders, “I promise I won’t overstep anymore boundaries.”

"It's okay." He shushes you, comforting you like he would if you were one of his girls. Although you aren't one of his girls, he shouldn't feel the things that he does about you. But you are so important to him, you are going to give him a baby.

You wrap your arms around him a little tighter and try to ignore the way your traitorous heart leaps at his touch. “I’m sorry, Dave.”

"No," Dave shakes his head and he kisses your hair. "Don't be sorry. It's my fault. You didn't do anything wrong." He sighs. "Carol wanted to skip this month, I'm the one who pushed. This is all me."

“Why would she want to skip?” You say, as your head tells you to loosen your grip but your heart just wants to hold on.

"I don't know." He frowns slightly. "She didn't come home last night." He reveals softly. "And she's turned off her location."

“Oh,” you say, stepping back but letting your hands linger on him. “Maybe something happened with her sister? Have you tried calling her?”

"Tried when I came downstairs to make coffee." Dave motions to his phone. "Goes to voicemail. Texts are delivered but not read. She's got her phone off."

“What about calling her sister?” You say as you rub his shoulders, trying to reassure him.

"No." If there's something else going on, he doesn't want to discover it today. Call it putting his head in the sand, but he has other priorities. "I'll deal with it later when she comes home."

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Nothing.” He promises with a small shrug. “Unless you want to help me make breakfast.”

“Bacon and eggs to go with those cinnamon rolls? Or sausage and biscuits?”

“Bacon and eggs.” The turkey bacon and eggs always go over well with the kids. Especially with cinnamon rolls.

“On it,” you say with a smile, “Do you want more coffee?”

“There should be half a pot left, but why don’t we fill up our cups and make another?” Dave suggests with a smile, walking back over to his cup to snag it off the table.

“No coffee for me,” you announce, “Caffeine intake is being sliced. Orange juice for me!”

“I’ll make sure to pick up some more when I go to the store.” He appreciates your dedication to this.

“Thank you, Dave. Should I wake the girls or wait until breakfast is ready? I was gonna cut up some strawberries.”

“I’ll go wake them.” Dave turns and then pauses. “Carol’s been having you do a lot around here and I just want to remind you that it’s not necessary.”

“I like it,” you admit, “I love the girls. Spending time with them is one of the best parts of my day.”

"Okay." He murmurs slowly. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to."

“I know, Dave.” You start to slice the strawberries and focus on that, ignoring the tension that’s floating in the air.

"Thank you again." He says before he turns back around. "For everything."

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, before finishing up breakfast and waiting for the girls to come down.

Dave wakes the girls up, chuckling when they grumble at him but they are quickly roused from their bed by the promise of an indulgent breakfast and a morning of cartoons in their pjs. Laughing to himself when they thunder down the stairs with their stuffed animals in tow.

“Hi babies,” you say as they make a beeline to the table, “Do you want milk or juice?”

"Milk!" Molly chirps while Alice simultaneously shouts "Juice!" Dave rolls his eyes at the way the girls are so very obstinate. Unlike each other in so many ways but then so alike in others.

“So milk for Alice, and juice for Molly,” you tease, before pouring the correct drink in each of their cups. “Your daddy was just telling me about how much he enjoyed the water fight from last night and how he thinks you should do it more often. Right, Daddy?”

"Oh sure." Dave nods, cutting his eyes at them. "Next time I will be fully armed." He promises with a grin that makes their little eyes widen in delight and possibly a little bit of fear.

“We can take him. Girl power. 3 against 1. He doesn’t stand a chance,” you say as they begin to giggle.

"Keep it up and I'll get the water hose out." He warns with a dark chuckle.

“Ooh, I’m so frightened,” you tease back, “What do you girls want to do today?”

"Where's mommy?" Molly frowns, looking exactly like Dave as she does.

Sensing the discomfort in Dave you answer for him, “She is out having some girl time with her friends. I bet she’s missing her babies though. So we better have a super fun day so you can tell her everything when she’s home.”

“Can we bake?” Alice says between mouthfuls of her food, “Daddy’s favorite. Chocolate cake.”

He's grateful that you answered for him and he grins. "Daddy's favorite, huh?" He asks, raising his brow. "I think it's Ms. Alice's favorite, more than mine."

You laugh as you watch their little back and forth, “Daddy, it’s your favorite because it’s my favorite. You’re so silly.”

“That’s right.” Dave snaps his fingers and looks so disappointed in himself. “I’m so sorry for forgetting, baby.”

The rest of breakfast is spent watching Dave and his girls joke around, and silently hoping that you’re going to give this man the baby he is yearning for. The girls accompany you on a trip to target for baking supplies while Dave stays home and clears up. With a cake baked and half eaten, endless episodes of Bluey streamed and a dance party that the girls had insisted you join in with over, it’s almost their bedtime and you’re just as exhausted as they are.

You take the girls up to bed as he dishes out the Indian takeout that he had ordered for you both. Carol clearly wasn’t coming home today, and seeing as she hates Indian food, he decided to indulge in his favorite as a treat.

Dave looks over at you as he eats his curry and catches your eye. “So what are your plans after the girls go to sleep?” He asks.

“Netflix I guess,” you say with a shrug, “What about you?”

“Hopefully the same as last night.” He admits, watching you carefully.

Your breath hitches, “Let’s hope they fall asleep soon then,” you reply softly.

He watches you for a moment and then nods. He's not sure if Carol will come home tonight but he doesn't care right now. "I'm sure they will."

“You want to just put the tip in again?” You ask, as the need between your legs grows.

Dave clears his throat and bites his lip. "What do you want?"

“You.”

Huffing quietly, Dave understands what you mean but he pretends that he doesn't. "My seed you mean?"

“If that’s what you’ll give me,” you say as your heart sinks, clearly having misread the situation. “Let’s make you a baby.”

Dave murmurs your name quietly to have you look at him again. “We can- I- I don’t know what you want.”

“I want you to put the baby you want in me,” you say, before looking back down at your plate and pushing your fork around.

“No.” He shakes his head. “You said you wanted me.”

“I know what I said,” you say, before pushing your chair back and standing up, “Sounds like the movie has finished. I’m going upstairs to check on the girls.”

"Wait-" He sighs as you dart out of the room and he knows that he's blown everything. He doesn't understand what is going on and he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Opening his contacts and selecting his sister-in-law's number.

The girls are fast asleep, but snuggled up to each other and gripping onto their favorite stuffed animals. You lean over and gently kiss both of their foreheads before tucking them in, seeing no use in moving Alice to her own bed when she’s quite content with her sister. Switching the TV off and turning on the nightlight, you sneak out of the room, leaving the door open slightly and making your way downstairs.

Dave's jaw is tight, his phone nearly crushed in his hand, he's gripping it so hard. Closing his eyes as he resists the urge to put his fist through a wall, or destroy something in a rage. It wouldn't do any fucking good and it would scare the girls.

“Hey,” you say, as you enter the kitchen, seeing the expression on his face. He looks furious and heartbroken at the same time, and you’re not sure whether to immediately give him space or go over and console him.

He shakes with anger, vision going white and for a moment, it sounds as if you are muted. Underwater and sounding like you are miles away as the pressure from the blood pounding in veins rushes through his ears.

You look over to the door of the basement and look back at Dave trying to gauge what the best thing to do here is. The sadness seems to have drained from his face and been replaced with sheer anger.

It takes Dave another minute before he gets ahold of himself. Purposefully thinking about something else and recalling his breathing techniques as he closes his eyes and slows his rushing heart down.

“Dave,” you say softly, as you approach him, gently reaching out and gripping his wrist, “What happened?”

"I called Maria." He tells you quietly, his voice low, nearly inaudible. "Carol isn't with her. Hasn't been with her." He inhales roughly. "She's not been out to a girl's night with her sister in nine goddamn months."

“Oh shit,” you say, before pulling him in for a hug, “Dave, I’m so sorry. Hopefully she’ll tell you the truth when she gets back.”

"She's cheating on me." Dave growls. "Maria told me everything. Carol told her that I had 'opened our marriage'." He rolls his eyes. "Told her that you were my live-in girlfriend."

“Oh, honey,” you say, letting him go and taking a step back, “I’m so so sorry.”

"Fucking bitch." He hisses, shaking his head. "We talked about this. She must have decided that I would be so fucking busy trying for a baby that I wouldn't pay attention to her bullshit."

You don’t know what to say to console him, so you just stand there and be the listening ear he needs right now. You reach out and gently rub his shoulder.

Dave closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. "It's obvious that the idea to have a baby with her is done." He admits. "I'm going to be getting a divorce."

“Oh,” you say, “That makes sense. I’ll contact my Mom in the morning and see if I can crash at hers for a while. Get out of your hair.”

"No." His hand reaches out and he grabs your. "No, don't- don't do that." He asks, opening his eyes and staring at you.

“I don’t want to get in your way, Dave,” you sigh, “Do you think you still want this? Going through a divorce and juggling a newborn as a single father. It’s a lot to think about.”

"You don't have to be in my way." Dave can't possibly think rationally right now but he knows one thing, he still wants you. "I wanted to fuck you last night." He admits. "I wanted to fuck you and not fucking jerk off and cum inside you."

“Fuck,” you say, “You wanted me?” You shake your head, knowing he’s just had news that’s turned his entire life upside down right now, and no matter how you feel for him, you can’t act on it. It would be taking advantage.

"I want you." He corrects.

“Dave,” you mumble, unsure what to do. Your heart says kiss him, let him take out his pain on your body by demanding it gives him pleasure, but your head says let him go to bed. Sleep on it.

"If you don't want to, walk away." He warns you after a second, his eyes turning darker. "Go downstairs and I won't follow you. But the smallest part of you does want to, go up to my bedroom."

After staring him down for a few minutes, feeling your arousal begin to drip down your thighs, your feet make the decision for you. Turning towards the stairs and taking each step carefully. Walking to the end of the hall and pushing open the door to the master bedroom.

It's wrong on so many levels and yet, Dave doesn't feel guilty. He looks down at his hand and contemplates for a moment before he reaches for his ring to slide it off his finger. Setting it down on the kitchen table, he turns around and walks out of the room and rushes towards the stairs.

You watch him as he strolls in the room, closing the door behind him and turning to look at you. “If you want this, Dave, if you really want to fuck me... Prove it. Undress me. Lay me down and show me just how much you want me, and if I'm satisfied I’ll let you fill up this little cunt.”

Dave hums, smirking slightly at the bossiness of your sudden change of attitude. "Is that how this is going to go?" He asks, raising a brow. "I have to prove it to you?"

“I’m not the one who’s leaving a multi-year marriage,” you say before perching on the edge of the bed and watching him.

"How do you want me to prove it to you?" He asks, starting to strip all of his clothes off. "I'm thinking about what I used to imagine when I was jerking off into that cup." He admits. "You sitting on my face. Smothering me in your pretty little pussy."

“That’s what you were thinking about yesterday or before?” You ask, wanting to confirm that he’s been wanting you for a while.

"Since the first week." He admits. "It's something I wanted to know. How you tasted. It was all I thought about while fisting my cock and spilling into a cup. Giving you my cum to insert into that cunt."

“Fuck, you wanna taste my pussy?” You mewl before standing back up, “Undress me and I’ll take a seat on that gorgeous face.”

Dave reaches for you, already nude and hard, his hands eager as he pulls your clothes off. Not caring if he stretches or rips something in his haste to strip you down.

Once you’re fully naked in front of him, you grab his hand and slowly drag it up the inside of thighs, letting him feel just how much you want him. “Since you said you wanted a repeat of last night, my pussy has been dripping for you. Soaked my panties within seconds and since then it’s been spreading down my thighs.”

"Do you know how good you felt?" Dave groans. "I felt bad about it, because I wanted to do it again. I wanted to cheat on Carol." He twists his fingers and slides them through your folds. "But now, now I'm just going to fuck you and not feel bad about it, I'm not married anymore. The rest is just legal bullshit."

“Fuck me then, York,” you challenge, “You knew from the second I first saw you that I wanted you.”

Instead of saying anything, Dave grabs you and pulls you down on the bed. Laying down and pulling you on top of him.

“You want me to ride that face or your cock? I’ve never sat on someone’s face before…”

"Face first." Dave groans. "Then my cock."

You hesitate for a moment, a little uncertain of how to make sure you don’t hurt him before you move up. Lowering yourself so you’re hovering just above his mouth.

He can tell you are hesitant and he reaches up to grab you hips and yank you down onto his mouth greedily like he is man starving and you are his last meal.

“Dave,” you yelp as he pulls you down onto his face. You reach out to hold on to the headboard as you patiently wait for him to start tasting you.

He chuckles and doesn't hesitate to slide his tongue through your folds, groaning at the tangy taste of your cunt and arousal. Gripping your hips tighter and making sure that you don't move away from his greedy mouth.

“Oh, Dave,” you whimper, as he starts to lap at your clit before moving down and pushing his tongue into your cunt. “Oh, fuck.”

He groans, spearing his tongue up into you while his nose presses against your clit. Rocking you back and forth to provide some friction.

“Dave,” you pant, over and over, as you start to rock your hips. The sensation is new, you’ve never really been with anyone who makes your pleasure a priority and he’s eating your pussy like a man starved.

Your taste, your moans has him aching as he gets exactly what he wants. Letting go of one of your hips, he reaches down and starts to wrap his fist around his cock. Groaning into your cunt like he is pained.

You rock your hips faster as you near your high, his mouth working magic on you. You throw your head back in pleasure and as you do you catch a glimpse of something moving, turning your head slightly you see him fisting his cock as he groans into your pussy. “Fuck, my pussy taste that good, baby? That you’ve got to fuck your own fist?”

He can't answer you because it means that he would have to pull his lips away from your cunt. Not willing to pull his tongue out of your warmth for a single second while you are dripping into his mouth. He groans, doubling down on his efforts to make you cum.

The only word you’re able to speak is his name, it falls out of your mouth over and over as he works you towards your high. Your thighs tighten around his head, as you start to cum. Hands gripping onto the headboard as you flood his face.

Dave hisses, his fist tight around his cock and squeezing so that he doesn't cum. Nearly ready to from the sweetness of your release and your cries.

“Fuck,” you murmur as you lift yourself off of his face, “Hi, baby.” You giggle as you look down at his soaked face.

"Hi." He smirks, a little pussy drunk and he lets go of his cock so he can stroke your hip.

“Can I kiss you?” You ask, as you run your hands through his hair, loving how blissed out he looks.

"Yes." He nods as he looks up at you. He's wanted to kiss you, and now there is nothing to stop him.

Wasting no time, the second he gives you permission you smash your lips against his. Not caring that they’re still damp with your arousal, you lick across his bottom lip as a silent plea for entry.

It's been years since Dave has kissed someone besides Carol. The pecks on the lips with the girls don't count. Years since he has kissed someone like he was going to devour them. And that is exactly what the kiss between the two of you turns into.

You moan freely into his mouth, letting him take the lead as he kisses you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter. Reaching down you grip his cock, giving it slow languid strokes.

"Fuck." Dave groans, twitching in your fist but he thinks of something and pulls away. "Do you- do you want me to wear a condom?" He asks breathlessly.

“Fuck no,” you say before pulling him back for another kiss.

He moans into your mouth, needing to be inside you now that there is nothing stopping him. "Ride me." He begs.

“Yes, sir,” you giggle, lining yourself up with him and slowly sinking down. Moaning from the stretch of him. “Fast or slow, baby?”

"Fuck." He groans. "You could just stay right there." He promises, watching you as you adjust to him in this new position.

“You just want me to keep your fat cock warm?”

You could, he wouldn't have any problem with you just sitting on his cock all night but he thinks you want more. "Later." He groans, pushing your hip with his hand, urging you to move. "Remember that I can't keep going if you make me cum too quickly."

“You can use your mouth and fingers though,” you say before grinding down on him, loving his filthy groans. “How often did you play with cock and think of me?” You ask as you rock your hips back and forth, nice and slowly.

"Every fucking time." Dave grunts, bracing his feet on the bed and starts to roll his hips up to meet yours. "Every fucking time I jerked off."

“Fuck,” you groan, before increasing your speed. “I think about you too,” you admit, “Those fucking shoulders. Imagined you putting my legs over them so you could fuck me deeper.”

Dave hisses, rocking his hips up harder. "Yeah?" He asks. "You knew how big my cock was before last night?"

“It’s honestly bigger than I was imagining,” you say before gasping, “And I was imagining a big cock.”

He grunts proudly, grabbing your hips and pulling you down to make sure he grinds deep into you. Wanting to make you feel every inch of him.

“You gonna make me cum on it,” you challenge as you snap your hips forward.

"Fuck yes." He hisses, gritting his teeth and snapping his hips up hard enough to make you bounce.

“Dave,” you gasp, as he forces the air out of your lungs, you bounce up and down on his length, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on your tit.

Dave palms you tit and squeezes it, grunting at how perfect it fits in his hand. Watching as you ride his cock like you had imagined and yet, it is so much better.

He fucks into that delicious spot with ease, making you almost delirious with pleasure. With a few more rolls of your hips, you find your walls fluttering around him, before clamping down, choking his cock and cumming hard.

Dave groans, wrapping his arms around you and he takes over. Feeling that you can’t move anymore and he starts thrusting up into you like his life depends on it.

“Fill me up,” you plead, grateful for the change in power right now. “Please, baby.”

"I will, fuck, I will." Dave groans out your name. Starting to chant it with every thrust of his hips. Until he finally pushes deep and starts to cum, filling you up just like you begged him to.

You love the way he overwhelms you, everyone of your senses are on fire in the most delicious way and it’s because of him. “Fuck,” you groan as he finishes filling you up, “So many nights of imagining this, and it was a million times better than I ever could have imagined.”

He nods, panting as he closes his eyes. "I- I shouldn't' have wanted it, but I did." He admits, holding you close. "It's so much fucking better than I ever thought of."

You giggle, loving the way he reacts to it. Still buried deep in your pussy, and groaning as your flutter and clamp down around him. “You wanna wake me up with your cock?” You ask before pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I can do that.” He doesn’t motion for you to get off him, and sighs softly. “I need to ask you a question though.”

“Should I be worried?” You ask, as you shuffle off of him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, instead of climbing in next to him.

“No?” He frowns, shaking his head and looking down at his hands before he starts talking. “Now that- now that Carol and I aren’t going to be staying together….if you wanted to stop this…surrogacy, I understand.” He tells you. “I know it’s not what you signed up for.”

“What do you want?” You ask, before running your hands through your hair. “I know how good of a dad you are, and despite what I said earlier, if anyone could juggle a newborn and all of this… it would be you. And I'd be here to help and breastfeed for as long as you need me.”

He blows out a small sigh and he shakes his head. “You don’t want what I’ve discovered I want.”

“What do you want?” You say, confusion evident on your face.

“I want to do this with…..with a partner, but you don’t want to be a parent and I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He’s not saying things right and he shakes his head. “Just forget I said something. It’s not a good idea.”

“If you’re asking me to have a baby with you, you’re going to have to at least take me out to dinner first.” You say, before giggling and moving your face up to his, “Kiss me, idiot.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head but he leans in to kiss you. “I don’t know when I started imagining raising the baby with you.” He confesses. Maybe it was all the time you spent together, but he hadn’t imagined you leaving after the baby was weaned.

“Can’t pretend my heart didn’t stutter when you said ‘our baby’ last night,” you admit, “But we have to be smart here. The girls. Carol. The fact we haven’t even been on a date yet… And honestly I could be pregnant right now… We need to sit and have a conversation out of this post sex haze.” You climb into bed next to him and lightly press a kiss to his lips, “Right now I know two things… 1. How badly I want you. 2. We have a lot to figure out.”

“We’ll figure them out.” Dave promises, wrapping his arms around you, “I want to figure them out.”

“Me too. You wanna be the little or big spoon, baby?” You ask before you pepper a kiss on his shoulder.

It’s been a hard day and he chuckles to himself. “Would you think less of me if I wanted to be the little spoon?”

“Not at all, baby.” Letting go of him, so he can shift around in your arms.

Dave turns over and sighs when you wrap your arms around him. Finding comfort in the fact that you care about him. Carol cheating on him is going to change everything in his and his girls life, but it might be for the better. He might get to have you.

“Goodnight, my love,” you mumble against his warm skin, placing a few kisses between his shoulder blades and wrapping your arms just a little tighter.

****

When Dave wakes up, he smiles as he feels your arm still around him. Apparently neither one of you moved during the night. He hums, shifting slowly as he turns to face you.

You wake up to Dave shifting in your arms, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. One of his hands slowly rubs the bottoms of your back as you move a little closer to him, “Good morning, you sleep ok?” Your mumble sleepily.

“Never woke up.” Which for him was a miracle. He smiles, admiring the way that you are struggling to keep your eyes open. “You look beautiful first thing.”

“Flatterer. And good, I’m glad, I didn’t either. Slept like a baby.” You say as you press yourself up against him. Grinning when you feel how hard he is already.

"Good." You had said you wanted him to wake you up on his cock, but you managed to open your eyes before he could get into position. So now he leans in and kisses you while rolling you onto your back.

You let him mould your body as he pleases, his mouth refusing to leave yours as he climbs on top of you, his fingers snaking between your bodies and slowly circling your clit.

Instead of rush through things to push inside you, Dave decides to take it slow. He's got all morning, the girls won't be up for at least another hour and on Sundays they liked to watch cartoons before the designated brunch time.

“Feels so good,” you moan as he plays with your clit, his lips lightly ghosting your neck as you moan his name. “You want me to stroke your cock, baby?”

"No." He kisses along your neck and nuzzles your pulse, inhaling the scent of you. Warm and soft with sleep, arousal now mixing with it. "Gonna slide inside you of you soon enough."

“Sounds perfect,” you say quietly, loving how perfectly you fit together, “Keep the pace nice and slow.”

"Lazy lovin' Sunday." He hums, smiling against your skin.

“Sign me up for more,” you say with a soft laugh, “All of them.”

"Yeah?" He huffs quietly, rocking his hard cock against your mound slowly. "You want to do this every Sunday?"

“Baby, I want to do it everyday,” you say as his fingers rub a little harder, your orgasm just teetering over the edge.

“Don’t know if I could do it everyday.” He chuckles. “Getting old.”

“Doesn’t seem that way to me,” you choke out, as pleasure explodes behind your little bundle of nerves, cumming with a soft moan of his name, as he whispers soft praises in your ear.

When you come back down, Dave pulls his hand away so he can slide between your thigh. Pressing against you and slowly rocking his hips forward as he starts to sheath his cock in the tight walls of your pussy.

One of your hands gently holds onto the back of his head, while the other one grips onto his hip. The heft of him a glorious stretch, as he pushes himself in, taking his time and giving you a moment to adjust once he’s filled you to the hilt. “Could stay like this forever.”

"Have to eventually eat." He teases, nudging his nose against yours and then kissing your lips.

“You’re gorgeous, did you know?” You say after he softly kisses your lips.

"Distracting me." He hums, kissing you again. "You are the gorgeous one." He murmurs quietly, starting to slowly move. "You were going to sacrifice your body, your womb to give me a baby."

“Oh, you feel so good,” you whine as he starts a slow but delicious rhythm, notching against paradise. “How could I say no to those big brown eyes?”

"Ask everyone who turned me down." He hums, flashing you a small smile and trying not to let Carol's betrayal affect him, affect this. He shouldn't have fallen in love with you, but he did and he's not going to apologize for it.

“Their loss is my gain,” you say, “But no one else but me and you exist right now.” You whisper into his ear.

"No one else." It might be ironic, promising fidelity when he is technically cheating on his wife, but he feels single. Or at least his emotional attachment to Carol severed the moment he learned about her affair.

“Make love to me,” you whisper softly into his ear, “Please.”

It's soft, sweet. Dave takes his time and doesn't try to push anything but the softest sounds out of you. Each slow thrust accompanies a kiss and some praise.

Your hands trail the expanse of his shoulders, dipping down his back and finding home on his hips, you can feel that delicious pressure building but you don’t want to let go just yet, needing desperately to fall off that ledge at the same time.

"Baby." Dave groans quietly in your ear. "Need you to cum for me."

“Call me baby, again,” you say, before clamping down around him, “Cum with me.”

"Baby." He grunts, pushing his hips a little harder. "Baby." He feels his body tensing. "Baby." He chokes out before he buries himself deep and pours himself into you.

You clamp down around him hard. Cumming with the softest, sweetest whimper of his name. Your arms wrap around him as he groans your name once more, before dropping down and capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

He pulls away only when he finally needs to take a breath, humming softly as he reaches up and caresses your cheek.

“You know I’m going to expect you to exclusively call me baby now I know how good it sounds?” You laugh as you push his hair back out of his face.

He chuckles and nods. "Figured."

“Sorry to darken the mood, but she’s probably going to be home today,” you sigh, “With work tomorrow. You want to spend a few nights downstairs with me until it’s all figured out?”

Dave sighs and he hates to acknowledge that but he nods. "Yeah." He leans down and kisses you again. "Just until I can get her ass served with divorce papers."

“At least we can be loud down there,” you say as you nuzzle your nose against his, “That’s if you’re not ‘too old’ to go again later.”

He snorts and shakes his head. "Might be." He jokes, nudging his nose against yours. "But you need to shower." He smirks at you playfully. "You smell like sex."

“So do you.” Kissing his lips once more you gently push him off you and climb out of bed, “Wanna join me?”

"I shouldn't." He admits, sitting down on the bed. "Just in case she comes home or the girls wake up."

“Guess it’ll just be me and my imagination then,” you say with a fake huff, “I’ll see you after, we can make the girls breakfast again.”

"Hey." Dave calls out and smirks at you when you turn to look at him. "I love you."

“I love you too.” You say, before slipping downstairs to shower.

****

The morning goes by in a blurred frenzy, Molly tells you that she needs 36 cupcakes to take to school with her tomorrow, and with Carol not back it’s down to you to bake them.

It’s only once you’ve finished frosting the final cake that you hear her car pull up onto the drive and Dave flashes an annoyed glance in your direction.

"Girls, why don't you go upstairs and play?" Dave suggests, ignoring the way they whine and try to stall, but he breathes a sigh of relief when they disappear to go upstairs. He turns towards you and watches you carefully. "Do you want to go downstairs?"

“Do you want me to? I can go if you want or stay and support you. Either way is fine.”

"I'm not going to confront her about everything." He tells you. "But I don't want you to face her wrath if she gets pissy."

“I can take it, but if you want me to go, I’ll go, baby.” You say before reaching out and caressing his cheek, sighing at the sound of her key turning in the door. Peppering the quickest of kisses on his lips.

He should send you away, but he doesn't. Realizing how much you care about him because you are willing to face whatever mood Carol is in just to stand beside him. He looks at you softly before his eyes harden as the door opens and Carol calls out. "In the kitchen." He calls back, voice flat.

“You’ve got this,” you whisper before briefly squeezing his hand. You both say nothing as she waltzes back in the house, tossing her car keys down on the counter and immediately going to the refrigerator and getting herself a bottle of water.

"Where have you been?" Dave asks quietly, sitting at the table watching as she twists the cap off the bottle and guzzles down half of it.

She giggles before slamming the bottle down, “Oh, Dave, you won’t believe it,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a huge grin splashed across her face, “Me, Maria and Tanya had one too many and ended up in Atlantic City! Of course I didn’t have my charger so I couldn’t contact you, but it was so great! Exactly what Maria needed.”

"Is it?" At least Maria hadn't lied when she told Dave that she wouldn't breathe a word of their conversation to Carol. She had been horribly apologetic, nearly tearful when she realized her sister had lied to her. "Is she feeling better now, then?" He asks.

“So much better,” she says before finishing the rest of her water, “I can’t believe we ended up there… The AmTrak really shouldn’t run at that time of night. Anyway I should shower…” She turns to look at you, “Could you have lunch ready when I get back downstairs? I’m starved.”

"She is not the maid." Dave reminds his wife. "Fix your own damn food."

“Excuse me?” Carol says, raising her eyebrow, “She lives here rent free, she can fix me a damn sandwich. What is your problem, David?”

"My problem is that you were supposed to be home two days ago, Carol." Dave doesn't raise his voice, he doesn't shout or throw anything. "You didn't call, you didn't give a fucking shit if your husband or your children knew if you were okay. You waltz back in and ask our surrogate to fix you a fucking sandwich."

“I told you I couldn’t call. Maria needed me, Dave. This is my home, she’s living here for free in exchange for me pumping her full of your cum. A sandwich won’t kill her.”

"Don't say it like that." Dave huffs. "You agreed that that was what you wanted. Have you changed your mind?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, and she shakes her head. “No honey, you could just be a little more accommodating when it comes to the needs of my family.”

"Go take your damn shower." Dave tells her. "I'll fix you a fucking sandwich."

“No, she will fix me a sandwich. I need you to pack me an overnight bag, Maria wants us to go to the spa tonight. Last minute deal on groupon.”

“Carol.” Dave frowns at his wife and shakes his head. “It’s Sunday. I have work tomorrow. I’m not going to a spa.”

“Oh, honey,” she says with a laugh, “I meant me and Maria. Not ‘us’.”

Dave’s hands are on his hips and he contemplates just packing her a bag and letting her go. Taking the easy way out but he shakes his head. “Sure, Carol. Whatever you say.”

“Dave,” you say, as he lets her walk over him, “You deserve better than this.”

“Excuse me?” She scoffs at you, as you continue to focus on him. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I talked to Maria yesterday.” Dave announces, staring at Carol.

“What?” She splutters, “When?”

“Don’t worry about when.” He huffs and grits his teeth. “Where were you really?”

She sighs and walks over to Dave, wrapping her arms around his neck and pouting, “I just needed a few days to myself, baby, this whole surrogacy thing is so stressful. I’m sorry.”

He pulls away from her, knocking her arms from around his neck, “you owe me at least the fucking truth, Carol.” He hisses. “Be honest. For fucking once.”

“Leave,” she hisses at you, “You’re the reason I felt like I needed to escape my family for a few days.”

“Oh, that wasn’t Robert that made you feel the need to leave?” Dave sneers.

“What exactly did Maria tell you?” She says, clearly relenting and sitting on the stool behind her. “Make her leave and we can talk honey, we don’t need her meddling in our business.”

“She can stay.” Dave shakes his head and scoffs. “Maria told me enough, don’t worry.” He promises her. “My lawyer’s already been called.”

“Saline.” She says with a smirk, “You were right. I didn’t want another baby, but I knew you were adamant you wanted us to try surrogacy.” She turns to look at you and laughs, “Looks like he has no use for you anymore either, no chance you’re knocked up with salt water.”

He nods, furious but at least he knows why it didn't seem like the inseminations were working. "How long have you been fucking this guy Robert, Carol?" He asks, holding up his hand when you start to speak.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs, “He ended it last night. The spa trip was a cover up to go and get some of my stuff I left at his.” She admits, no point in lying anymore.

"How fucking long?" Dave demands, his voice hardening slightly and his eyes dark.

“Just over a year,” she scoffs, “Does it matter? Do we really need to be having this conversation in front of her? She should have started packing her bags the second I told you both about the saline.”

"No, but you can pack your bags." Dave tells her, crossing his arms over his chest. "Get out of my house, Carol. We are done."

“No, we are not,” she shrugs, “We can find another surrogate and try again. We will have the baby and move on together.”

“No,” you say, courage coursing through your veins, “He will have a baby, but it will be with me. And I’ll spend the rest of my life doing the one thing you were too stupid to do, and I’ll show him how appreciated and loved he is.”

Dave lifts a brow at your impassioned speech and smirks at the way Carol's jaw drops in surprise. "I've already given my lawyer the evidence, Carol." He tells her. "Just like I'm going to forward this video of you confessing to adultery to him."

She ignores Dave and instead sneers at you, “You’ll get bored of him. Just like I did. I’d run if I was you, get out of here as quickly as you can.”

“I’m good,” you say before reaching out and grabbing his hand, “Fell in love with him that very first day in the cafe. Fell even harder watching how incredible a father he is, fell some more when he made love to me this morning. Will continue to fall harder and harder for the rest of my life.”

"Get out, Carol." Dave tells her quietly, squeezing your hand and looking over at you with soft love in his eyes. "I'll tell the girls you will be there to see them this weekend, but I want you to go. You made your choice, so I've made mine." His choice is you. You and his girls and whatever kids you might have together.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she scoffs before grabbing her keys, “And i’ll be ready for you to apologize, so we can move on from this. Make sure that little slut is out of our basement before I get back.”

He sighs and shakes his head, watching her walk away and doesn't flinch when the door slams behind her. "Gonna have to change the fucking locks." He sighs before he looks over at you and grins. "You heard her. You need to be out of the basement by tomorrow."

“I heard her loud and clear, baby,” you say before pulling him in for a heated kiss, “I’m just thinking about how you’re planning on fucking this little slut tonight.”

"Might be too tired from moving all your stuff into the master bedroom." He smirks, wrapping his arms around you. "Unless you're still ovulating."

“Oh I think moving can wait until the morning,” you smirk, “Save that energy ‘old man’, Daddy is going to be railing the fuck out of this little pussy tonight.”

“Sounds good to me baby.” Dave smirks and pulls you close. “Tonight we’re going to make our baby.” He promises.

“Keep calling me, baby, and we can make our baby right here and right now.” You tease, before kissing him hard and slow. “I was telling the truth by the way, fell in love with you the second I saw those big gorgeous brown eyes.”

He hums, knowing that you mean it. His hand slides down and he cups your ass. "I started falling in love with you while you've been living here." He admits, knowing you will understand that. "But I think that it's fair enough to say that I am completely in love with you, baby."

“Good,” you say before scrunching up your nose and nuzzling it against his, “Guess now I can tell you about the sex dream I keep having.”

"Tell me all about it." Dave pulls you close and closes his eyes. He's still hurt about Carol's betrayal, about her tearing their family apart. But he also has to thank her for it. If she hadn't been unfaithful, he wouldn't have met you, he wouldn't have fallen in love with you and he wouldn't be planning on creating a life with you.

“Keep dreaming about slowly riding your cock, your lips wrapped around one of my nipples, tasting the milk I make for our baby. Listening to you telling me how sweet it is. How sweet I am. Before tasting more.”

“That sounds more like a prediction than a dream.” Dave murmurs. He had already thought about watching you breastfeed and seeing your tits full of milk, and how he won’t have to deny those thoughts. “Let’s see if we can’t make dreams come true.”

“I would love to. I love you, Dave York.”

****

[SIX MONTHS LATER]

You groan at the clock next to you, reading 4:23AM. Your pregnancy cravings refuse to let up, but your aching and swollen feet makes it too difficult to get up and out of bed.

You don’t want to wake him, he’s been so supportive, so wonderful and spends a good forty minutes every evening luring you to sleep with his tongue. Knowing it’s the only thing that relaxes you enough to sleep. But you had made the decision to attempt to ignore your craving after dinner and it’s come back to bite you in the ass. You groan again as you think about the rocky road in the freezer, calling your name.

Wordlessly, he sits up and presses a kiss to your forehead and before you can apologize for waking him, he’s shushing you and getting out of bed.

A few minutes later he returns with a pint of ice cream, two spoons and two gatorades.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You say softly, feeling tears spring up in your eyes and immediately start to stream down your cheeks. Pregnancy hormones make you a lot weepier than usual.

"You answered an ad." He teases, setting down the gatorades and reaching up to wipe away your tears. "I knew you were going to want ice cream." He teases, leaning in and kisses your lips softly. He motions to the ice cream. "Go ahead and have your ice cream baby, I'm going to talk to him."

“God, I love you,” you say, ripping the cover of the ice cream and digging in. Watching as he gently rests his head on your tummy and starts to talk to your unborn son. The immediate kicking as soon as he hears his Daddy’s voice makes you both smile. Answering that ad had been the best decision you had ever made, you reach down and caress his face after finishing up the ice cream. “I love you so much. Love our girls. Love our boy. I love you, Dave.”

"Love you too, baby." He promises, kissing your ice cream flavored lips with a smile. "Thank you for our son, thank you for loving me and the girls." There's a ring on your finger, not quite yet a wedding ring since you want to wait until after the baby is born, but the divorce was finalized last month and he can't wait to make you Mrs. Dave York. "Love you so much."

“Me too, baby. I love you.”

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york equalizer 2 #dave york imagine

374 notes · View notes