#i posted this like ten minutes ago BUT I FORGOT TO PUT LEG HAIR ON THEM so I had to redo two of the screenshots lmao

[cottageivy]

ava outfits - pajama edition

[tobi-momo]

HAIKYUU BOYS AND SHARING A BED TROPES | PT. 2 | PT. 1

PAIRINGS: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader | Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader | Yamaguchi Tadashi x Reader | Tsukishima Kei x Reader

GENRE: Romance | Fluff | Comfort

WARNINGS: idk how i forgot to put the warnings when i first posted this but cursing?

ANON ASKED: Hey there! I loved your sharing a bed trope, would you be willing to do it for Asahi, Yamaguchi, Sugawara and Kei? Thank you if you do!

A/N: hey babes, unfortunately i dont really write for asahi or sugawara, so i hope you can accept bokuto and kuroo instead <3 and thank you for liking the first part, i had so much fun writing it— also sorry these are so much longer i got a lil distracted akjds

KOUTAROU — The "It's So Cold Can I Sleep In There With You?" trope:

The heater broke. Of course, the heater broke. The temperature would not stop dropping it seemed like. The hairs on his arms and legs are stuck up as he lays on your floor underneath a thin blanket, and his breaths become more forced to try and heat up his hands. He figured you were sleeping fine, under all those comforters— something he wished he was under as well. No matter how many times he would rub his feet together for friction or would blow slowly on his skin to heat up or squint his eyes closed to try and force himself asleep, it didn't work. His shivers and his jittering teeth would keep him up. He was going to bear it though— until he heard your raggedy breaths and your tiny whimpers in complaint. "Y/n?" He whispers in the dark. "Yeah, Kou?" You answer with a shaky voice. "Are you cold?" "A little bit. Are you?" "Yeah," he sighs, sinking himself into the cold surface of his blankets. He didn't know if your silence was you thinking or hesitating to say something, but he patiently waited for your response. "Kou?" You call from the blue, tugging his attention further. "What is it?" He can hear the sheets rustle a bit before he sees the dark shadow of the blanket being lifted from the side of the bed. "Come in here with me." Woah. He had to be honest, he wasn't expecting that. Even though he was already getting up, he had to ask, "are you sure," just to be safe. When he saw the slight nod of your head and the scoot of your body to the other side of your mattress, he slid himself in. It was a lot warmer than his bed, he'll be honest, but he didn't want to admit he liked it because it was your body heat. He huffed when he settled in, trying to shuffle and get his body nice and warm to sleep before he looked at your figure across from him. Suddenly, his heart fluttered. Even though he could only see your silhouette, you looked so pretty. "Hey, Y/n," he murmurs with his face halfway under the covers while scooting his body the tiniest bit closer to you. "Um, yeah?" You breathed. "C'mere," was all he added before dragging your limbs to his body and letting his hands roam your back. It finally got warm.

TETSUROU — The "I Heard Cuddling Helps You Sleep Better" trope:

He had always sucked at flirting, you admit to yourself every day, but what really sucked was that you fell for it every damn time. It was just a casual hangout in his room where you both ended up laying down on his mattress and looking at the little glow-in-the-dark star stickers on his ceiling, pointing at them and attempting to make up constellations. "Hey, wait, look at that one," he points out, nudging your arm against his to gather your attention. "Yeah, I pointed that out like, ten minutes ago," you laugh. "Okay, well—" he defends hopelessly, "I got nothin'." You giggle once more before you turn your head to lie your cheek against his blanket and watch his playful grin grow and his eyes relax in satisfaction. He looks so peaceful, you thought as you let a yawn escape you. He side-eyed you curiously until he let himself turn and face you fully. "Tired?" "I guess so." "You know, I heard cuddling helps you sleep better," he slyly pulls off, watching you chuckle and shake your head. "What? I'm right," he laughs with you. "How would you know? Last time I checked I'm the first person to willingly lay on your bed with you," you tease, earning a pout from him. "Well, we could find out, couldn't we?" He smirks, taking his victory when you scoff. "C'mon! Let's get you to sleep, Baby," he practically coos while he sits up energetically and folds the blankets over themselves to create room for you. You roll your eyes, but you cooperate, slipping inside his refreshing sheets and breathing in the sweet scent of his laundry freshener. You politely wait for his arrival, watching him dip inside and pull the sheets over his shoulder. "Y/n," he says, deadpanning at your figure almost a foot away from him. "Yes?" "You're forgetting the 'cuddling' part of my joke." "Oh, I am?" You slip innocently. He only scoffs before he scoots himself closer to you, wrapping his arms around your torso and pushing your head close to his chest. His legs had found themselves weaving with yours, intertwining gently and comfortably. Hmm, you thought. Maybe this was better. He definitely thought so when he heard your tiny snores and felt your hands press on his chest. Yeah. Definitely better.

TADASHI — The "I Have Constant Nightmares Please Sleep With Me" trope:

"Y/n?" He asks the moment you sit up from his desk, about to grab your things. "Yeah?" "Can you do me a favor?" "Sure, what is it?" He fiddles with his hands as he sat straight up on his bed, looking down at his fidgeting fingers. "Tadashi? What's wrong?" You frown and sit next to him in worry, watching his expression change. "It's nothing, I just wanted to know if," he breathed, "you could sleepover? Tonight?" He almost winced at his sentence, not wanting to risk rejection. Your eyes widened, surprised by the question, but you felt relieved at the same time. You wouldn't tell him that you've been wanting to do this for months— no. So, sighing, you nod your head with a gentle smile. "Of course. I'd love to." You didn't miss the lit-up face he made before "coughing" and covering it up. You giggled. An hour later, when you lay awkwardly in bed with him, you have a weird feeling. You two are barely touching each other, and his breaths seem...off. You could hear and feel the sheets rustle before you, watching his fingers tremble slightly while his bottom lip quivers and his squinting eyes scan around in confusion. He was still asleep, but he seemed wide awake somewhere else. You came to the conclusion that he was currently having a nightmare— and a bad one at that. You couldn't stop yourself from moving closer and wrap yourself around him, as well to wipe the wet streams from his face. He suddenly gasped awake, only to find his head facing your chest and your legs threaded with his and your arms keeping him close. He felt ashamed to have shown that to you. He felt bad. But it was only when you asked, "are you okay? Wanna talk about it?" In the dark, silent room where he suddenly felt lighter and less dragged down. "Um, I'm okay now, thank you," he says, letting his own arm drape along your face and allowing his head to snuggle further into you. He was appreciative of your actions as he smiled to himself on your skin, your lips pressing onto his temple pulling his heartstrings a little too much. He wondered if he had you over again, would they soon deteriorate? Would they soon blow into the wind like the broken petals of a dead flower? He hoped so. But now, the only thing he could do was cling harder to your support and love until he was okay. Good thing you weren't leaving.

KEI — The "I'm Not Going To Bed Unless You Go To Bed With Me." trope:

"Oh my God, Y/n. Go to sleep," he grudges annoyingly, taking a deep breath before turning back down to his paper. "No." "And why not?" "Because you're not in here with me," you answer with an audible grin, a face he rolls his eyes at without looking for it. "I have work to do, I can't just go to bed," he defends, waving you off and shaking his head at his paper. " C'mon, Kei, I know you're stressed, and I also know that the paper you're working on is due next week and you're already halfway done." He sighs, letting his arm drop in irritation before turning his head to face you. Although his glare is threatening, it doesn't bother you as you lay comfortably in his sheets. "Please?" You pout, tucking your bottom lips and scraping up your best puppy-dog eye. His eyes roll once again, but his pencil drops, and his legs lift him off the ground. You smile to yourself when he forces the blankets open with his nimble fingers, scooting yourself back to make room for him. He crawls in, taking his glasses off and placing them on the nightstand behind him before he squints from the strain of the lack of moisture in his eyes. He rubs them, only a little bit until he feels your fingers brush against his shoulder. "What are you doing?" He asks, pausing his motions with his hand left in the air. "That's a nice shirt," you say distractedly, pinching the fabric and subtly rubbing the skin underneath. "I wear it almost every day," he points out, clueless of the motives for your actions. "So? It's nice." Your hand glides across the wrinkles in his shirt, purposely grazing his smooth skin. He scoffs before he lets his hand down on the pillow his head rests on, and he stops for a second. Were you really that pretty? Wow. Did he not notice that before? How your resting face lied against his pillow made his nerves run warm and how your fingers caused a tingling reaction on his skin? "Go to sleep now, yeah?" You drop your hand slowly before smiling, "sure." He wasn't exactly mad that your hand coincidentally dropped on his, or that your fingers found themselves sinking between his as you lay peacefully asleep next to him. He actually quite enjoyed the way your legs found their way in between his, and how your head suddenly found a resting place on his chest. He didn't mind it at all. Weird.

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[mercy-burning]

Laundry Day

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer meet again in the laundry room and decide to have some fun. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Smut 18+ (oral sex- male and female receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, slight exhibitionism?/potential of getting caught, slight degradation) Warnings: sex, language. (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings. I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3k

Note: Surprise!! I was going to wait to post this on Saturday but Taylor Swift had me feeling like dropping a surprise, what can I say? 😂 Anyway, I wasn’t going to make another part to Pretty Please, but for one thing, it did way better than I was expecting, so thank you all for your kind comments and tags! And also, @rainsong01 mentioned something that gave me an idea for a laundry room scenario, so you can thank them for this one! I had so much fun writing this and I hope you like it! Thanks for all the love! 🥰

***

Y/N hated laundry day.

There was nothing more boring to her than loading clothes into the washer, waiting, then loading them into the dryer, waiting, and then folding them and putting them away, not to mention the laundry room was kind of dingy and felt like being in a gross, scary basement.

Thankfully though, years of living in the same building had given Y/N a pretty decent schedule of when the laundry room was empty. It wasn't like she disliked talking to people, but laundry made her cranky enough, and the last thing she wanted was human interaction, making small talk with building residents that acted like they cared to know about everyone else's business.

So it was Friday night, 7 pm, which meant that depending on if she had to work, the only other person in the laundry room would be Olivia from down the hall, someone Y/N had only had a few conversations with, either in the laundry room or on the way out the door.

She walked in, silently thanking the laundry gods after hearing complete and utter silence as she made her way to the washer and dryer to the far left of the room. Then she reached into her pocket and realized she forgot her phone. Cursing, she settled on basking in the silence as she loaded her clothes in the washer one by one, at least grateful that no one would be bothering her with pointless small talk.

Until she heard the door open, as if the laundry gods decided they were angry at her. She tried not to outwardly groan, hoping that whoever it was would just say, "Hello," and leave it at that. Or better yet, not say anything at all and let her do her own thing. So she closed the washer and entered the quarters, knowing that it would be a long ten minutes. She could have went back upstairs to her apartment and waited there if she really wanted to, or grabbed her phone at least, but it felt like it would have been pointless, and so she just hoped it wouldn't be awkward.

Maybe I'll just go walk around the building aimlessly for 10 minutes.

But the laundry gods had other plans, apparently.

"Y/N?"

She turned around and saw none other than Spencer Reid, clutching a large cloth bag, presumably filled with laundry.

"Spencer? Hi," Y/N greeted, a small blush forming on her cheeks. The two of them hadn't really talked since their... escapade about a month ago. Most of the time Spencer was at work, but whenever he was home there hadn't been anymore thin wall scenarios or overhearing something she shouldn't. They'd seen each other in the hallway a few times, winking as they passed, but that was it. Y/N had to wonder if maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime thing, being absolutely fucked into oblivion by your neighbor so good that you couldn't walk for two days.

Thinking about it made her cheeks burn hotter, so she cleared her throat and only slightly avoided eye contact. "I thought you did your laundry on Sundays?"

Spencer shrugged, walking over to the machine set next to hers. "Normally I would, but I just got back from work and I needed clean clothes. It's... pretty empty in here right now."

"Oh. Yeah, that's why I do my laundry on Friday nights whenever I can. Everyone's either out or staying in relaxing. Laundry's already boring enough, right, who needs annoying small talk?"

He laughed, opening the washer and putting in some of his clothes. "Touché."

Y/N wasn't really sure what to say after that, so she sat on top of the washer and crossed her legs, swinging them a little as she waited.

"Look, I know you've already given your stance on annoying small talk, but... What are your plans for the weekend?" Spencer asked, and she turned her head to meet his gaze, immediately feeling butterflies in her stomach.

"Um... Not a lot, really. Other than some grocery shopping and a few other small errands, I was going to have dinner with my mom on Sunday for her birthday. We might have to cancel though because she might have to go into work, but we'll see... What about you?"

He shook his head. "I don't have anything planned unless I get called into work either."

"Oh... Well, if you ever feel like having some company, you know where I live," she joked.

Spencer laughed. "I might just have to take you up on that. Things at work have been kind of... stressful."

Despite her better judgement, she smirked. "I seem to recall a similar conversation between the two of us not that long ago, Bud. You're not trying to fuck me again, are you?"

She just couldn't help herself. Admittedly she was a little worried she was too forward, but in the end it paid off, because he turned to look at her, shutting the washer and grabbing quarters from his pocket. "Would it be so wrong of me if I wanted to?"

The low tone of his voice made Y/N clench her legs tighter together, her mind racing with all the things that could happen in the next few days, the next few minutes even... She thought back to the last time he'd fucked her, seeing his face between her legs as he completely unraveled her. She felt herself growing wet at the thought.

"Absolutely not," she finally managed to respond. She hoped he would come over to her in a few long strides, pulling her in and kissing her right there, but instead he simply said, "Hmm," and turned back to his machine, putting in quarters.

He could have been playing games with her again, but she didn't want to take the chance. So she grew bolder and leaned back on her hands, puffing out her chest to the air and tilting her head to the side, letting her hair fall and exposing her neck to him. "Well, we have some time to spare, babe. What do you say we make the most of it?"

She was genuinely surprised to see him blush and freeze in his tracks, fumbling with the last few quarters as he inserted them into the machine and started the timer. "R-right now?"

"Duh," she replied, giggling.

"Somebody could come in... O-or hear us." A twinge of worry dripped from every syllable as he spoke, and though Y/N's first instinct was to apologize for suggesting it and letting it go, she thought better of it after remembering what got them into this situation in the first place.

So she scoffed. "Oh, please. You weren't the least bit worried about someone hearing us before. Y'know... When you promised to fuck me so hard I would scream your name and everyone could hear, and then I did? And besides, even if someone walked in right now, they'd probably just leave and come back later. People probably have sex with each other in here all the time."

"I doubt that, this place is filthy. Hardly the right setting for something so... intimate," he replied more clearly, obviously trying to win this argument. Though, something told Y/N he really was a little bothered about how dirty the laundry room was.

She shook her head. "You and I both know that what we did wasn't intimate. It was downright filthy, so if anything it works perfectly for where we are."

"Y/N, I don't know..." He chewed on his bottom lip and shuffled on his feet, refusing to look at her.

"Well, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to do, obviously, but... You can trust me. I've been doing my laundry here basically every Friday night since I moved here, and since Olivia is working tonight, she won't be here, and neither will anyone else."

"Well, I showed up, didn't I? Anything could happen."

She sighed, a little tired of arguing but still wanting to win. Her body tingled and practically ached at the sight of him, needing to feel his touch yet again. Maybe it was slightly pathetic, but if there was just the slightest chance that he would fuck her like that again, she had to try her damnedest.

So she had another trick up her sleeve, silently praying to the laundry gods that they would take pity on her and grant her this one thing. "You're right, but don't you think that you coming down here just moments after me was bound to happen? Like after everything we've experienced, we were always meant to have a quickie in the laundry room of our apartment building?"

He genuinely seemed to think about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Truthfully I think it's more of a coincidence than anything that we showed up here at the same time."

There's your chance, Y/N, don't fuck it up, she thought to herself, hoping that with the seductive tone in her voice and the puppy dog look in her eye, it would be enough to get her what she wanted. "I was joking. Of course it's a coincidence, I just want you to fuck me."

He only stayed silent, fiddling with his hands and his eyes flicking between her and the floor before he caught her eye. In another attempt to entice him, Y/N batted her eyes and slowly spread her legs wide, scooting back a little so she could rest her heels on the top of the washer. "Don't you want to fuck me into the washing machine, baby?"

That was the last straw, the thing that pushed Spencer over the edge. He whispered, "Fuck it," to himself before striding over to her and cradling her face in his hands, bringing her to him and kissing her hard. She initially yelped at how harsh he was, but after a second she melted into him, leaning forward and bringing him closer.

She tried to wrap her legs around his torso, but he grabbed them by the ankles and kept them spread open, pulling away to look into her eyes. "Keep 'em open, pretty girl." The old nickname made her whimper, just like he knew it would, and his gaze burned into hers hotly for a few seconds before he bent down, kissing her inner thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed as he trailed his lips and tongue along every inch of skin, switching to the other leg and giving it the same attention until he was ready for more.

Rather than pulling off her shorts and underwear, Spencer simply pushed the fabrics aside and immediately licked a long, flat strip up her pussy, to which Y/N sharply inhaled and reached out, grabbing his hair. He explored her just as thoroughly as he had the last time, his fervor unmatched and absolutely intoxicating as he pushed himself closer and closer, practically living between her legs. Due to the short time constraint and fear of getting caught, he didn't waste time teasing her, and he seemed determined to finish before the buzzing of the washer signaled clean clothes.

Naturally though, he couldn't not tease her, so just as she was about to finish with his lips wrapped around her clit, he pulled away and left her breathless and frustrated.

"Really? We're doing this again?" she huffed, pouting.

Spencer unbuckled his belt and raised his eyebrow. "All in due time, sweetheart. Come here."

Unsurprisingly, she did what she was told, jumping off the washer and waiting further instructions. It didn't take long for Spencer to move, only a few seconds passing by before he turned her around and pushed her against the washer, to which she instinctively bent her torso over it. She gripped the sides of it tightly as he ran his hands up her shirt and caressed her back, eventually using one hand to grip her waist and the other to lift her leg up, setting it on the washer. She readjusted, reaching her hands forward to grip the top of it as he slid his hand down her leg and toyed with the fabric of her shorts.

"Listen carefully," he said, causing Y/N's heart to pound harder in her chest. "I'm clean. Are you?"

"Yes," she stated simply, loud and clear, though adding a hint of desperation as to hopefully speed the process along. She knew this communication was important, but damn if she didn't just want to be railed into next week already.

"Birth control?"

She swallowed nervously, hoping it wouldn't change his mind. "I'm not on it."

"Noted," is all he said, before deftly moving her shorts and underwear to the side and slamming into her with no warning. She yelped, leaning her head back as he pounded into her, the cold metal of the washing machine digging into her skin. It was the best kind of painful pleasure, only made better when he gripped her hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanked her to him, deepening his angle inside of her and hitting that sweet spot every time.

"Spencer, I'm..." She could barely breathe, and she loved it, already feeling herself start to unravel.

"Close already, pretty girl?" he purred in her ear, right before pressing a wet kiss to her neck as he craned her head to the side for better access. "Figures... You've always been so easy to please. Such a good, needy little slut for me, huh?"

Y/N groaned at the new name, and it spurred him forward, encouraging him to push them both further into the washing machine as he moved his hips harder. "Please," she gasped, only seconds away from losing herself.

"Tell me what you want," he growled in her ear.

She squeezed her eyes shut and spoke as clearly as she could, not caring how loud she was being. "I wanna cum! Please, Spencer, please!"

"Do it," he grunted, giving her a few more deep, purposeful thrusts to aid in her high. "I got you, pretty girl." That's what did it for her. She yelled out as her body tensed and her walls fluttered around him, everything absolutely burning and blinding until eventually she was spent.

Spencer held himself inside of her for a few seconds, bringing himself closer to the edge before he roughly pulled out and away, leaving Y/N empty and alone. She was tired as hell and completely fucked out, but still she wanted more than anything to help him, ever the needy little slut, as he'd so eloquently called her. So she turned around, peeling herself away from the washing machine and dropping to her knees in front of him, not waiting for him to say anything.

She promptly leaned forward and wrapped her mouth around his cock, wasting no time hollowing her cheeks and setting a fast pace sucking him off. It had somewhat taken him by surprise, but he welcomed it, gathering her hair away from her face and watching as she went to work, practically worshipping the ground he stood on. Eventually she pushed herself all the way forward, allowing him to hit the back of her throat. Instead of pulling back to breathe, she held herself there and gagged, looking up at him with tears in her eyes before removing herself, taking two deep breaths, and going right back to work.

"Look at you," he mused, his voice barely there but with enough volume that allowed Y/N to hear him. "You look so good, pathetic and choking on my cock. Such a good fucking girl, fuck—"

In no time he was gripping her hair tighter and his breathing started to falter. Y/N held herself still as he came in her mouth, most of it hitting the back of her throat and all of it coating her tongue. She moaned around him, blinking tears away and running her hands over his ass until he pulled away from her and let go of her hair.

Standing up, Y/N swallowed most of his cum but purposely let some of it spill out of her mouth and down her chin, to which she used her middle finger to scoop it up and slide it back into her mouth. She kept eye contact with him the whole time, watching as his tongue flicked over his bottom lip before he bit it softly.

Once she was done cleaning herself up, Y/N ran a hand through her hair and smiled. "See, that wasn't bad at all. No trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the only trouble is you. Eavesdropping, making me fuck you in a semi-public place, et cetera..." He laughed as he pulled his pants up and re-adjusted himself as though nothing had happened.

"Don't act like you don't like it," Y/N teased, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing a deep kiss to his lips. He laughed against them, pulling her closer by her waist and resting his hands there when she pulled away.

As if to signal the end of their... whatever they were going to call it, Y/N's washer buzzed and she turned around to attend to her laundry. As she transferred the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Spencer came up behind her and brushed the hair away from her neck.

"You know, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything when I... called you a slut. I would never want to be mean to you or anything, and I'm sorry if that made you uncomfortable."

Y/N almost laughed, amused again by how dominant he was during sex but then immediately a big 'ol softie once it was over. It was such a fun contrast, and truthfully, as much as she loved his dominant side, she wanted to see more of his softer one. So she turned around to meet him and caressed his cheek, smiling kindly. "I know you don't mean it to be mean. It was hot. And I appreciate you checking up on me, it's sweet. You're sweet."

Before he could say anything, his washer buzzed. So he settled on leaning forward, kissing her cheek, and walking away to do his laundry.

The two of them worked in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company until they realized they both had to wait for the dryer. 20 minutes.

"Round two?" he asked her with a mischievous grin.

Y/N returned it and took a step towards him when the door opened, laundry gods be damned.

"Oh, hey guys!" Olivia from down the hall chirped as she walked in, striding to her own station.

At least they had the rest of the weekend.

[oftenderweapons]

YOOOOO ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYY🥳🥳🥳🥳 that is all sending a big hug

YOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATEEEEE!!!!! Congrats, you have won Loyal Reader extra points, I have this commission you asked a century ago so yeah, happy bday sweets

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Genre: smut, basically pwp, mild angst

Rating: 18+ I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY MINOR CLICKING ON THAT “READ MORE”, ARE WE CLEAR?

Trigger warnings: swearing, hard domme!Vixen, brat!Vixen, hard sub!Joon, strip-tease!Vixen, bondage, vibrating cockring, dildo, overstimulation (male receiving), daddy kink, mention of gagging (with panties), mention of porn, voyeurism and exhibitionism, cumplay, suspension of powerplay. And Switch!Joon, i guess, too. Very unprotected activities USE CONDOMS!!! Don’t eat cum unless the other person/people can prove they’re clean.

“My hands, please. I’m sorry,” Namjoon whined, breathing through his mouth, his chest gluttonously naked, your lipstick marking it here and there. “Vixen, baby.”

“No.” You spoke it with a smile, gathering some saliva in your mouth, your head ten miles ahead of you, already planning what to do after you got up from your legs-spread-bent-over-ass-right-in-front-of-his-eyes position.

He had been whimpering since the moment you found out he wanted you to go cougar on him.

And he’d enjoyed being the prey for once — however, technically, even though you always let him take control, he knew he wasn’t preying on an innocent lamb. You were his vicious fox even when you submitted to him.

“Vixen.” It was cruel. Feet? Bound. Hands? Bound. Dick? Very fucking trapped in a very fucking vibrating cockring.

“Do you need my panties in your mouth to stay quiet?” You rolled your eyes at the fact that you had to swallow and change your plans because he couldn’t for the love of him keep his mouth shut.

“But I’m gonna cum.”

You kneeled on the floor and smiled. “Not my problem.”

He sobbed and threw his head back. “Come on. How fucking long has it been, three hours?”

“Based on my playlist, only six minutes.” You loosened his necktie — currently around your neck — and undid the first couple buttons on his shirt — which of course you were wearing rather sluttily. And that little plaid skirt? The one he always teased you about when he gave you assignments and tests?

He was regretting it now. A lot. It slipped down your legs so torturously as you stood, planting a foot between his parted legs.

He stared at it — at the Louboutins he had bought you after you spent one entire weekend oversexing him — and regretted them too.

You cocked an eyebrow and forced him to look at you. “Still thinking about that stripper?”

“Which one?”

You smirked. The answer was, after all, correct. “I don’t know if I should be happy you forgot or be worried about you seeing way too many of them.”

“It was just porn. Come on. You know I belong to you. Head to toe—” He shivered his glutes flexing a couple times before he growled and arched all the way, his orgasm spilling over his stomach and abdomen. “Fuck— Fuck, fuck, fuck, Vixen!”

“Language,” you chirped, slipping three fingers into his open mouth and pressing his tongue down, drool dripping out causing you to smirk and giggle. “Such a sorry mess.”

He hummed, his hips still swirling as he still tried to find some relief.

You took a step back, wiping your hand against your mouth, Namjoon whimpering as the vibrations didn’t stop. “Switch it off!”

“What? The music?” You tugged the necktie off you, eyes on him as you faked realisation. “Oh! You mean the lights!”

“Don’t you dare act all that smug. Don’t you—”

“Can’t hear you,” you spoke back, undoing the buttons slowly, shrugging off the shirt and turning around, dropping to the floor, grabbing your ass and squeezing it as you rotated your hips slowly, kneeling forward on your elbows, crawling forward until your arms adhered entirely to the floor, your back fully arched as your cheek met the floor.

“Touch yourself,” he growled darkly and needily.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” You sneered as you turned around to look at him. He had recovered from his post-orgasmic blues and sensitivity and was well on his way to a second high.

So you stood up and turned to face him. The remote to the toy was safely strapped between your breasts, hooked on your bra. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Vixen.” He loved how flawless your evil plan was. You had designed it to make him livid. And it was unwillingly playing out to the T. Knowing you, he realised you had probably calculated him being obnoxiously talkative.

He tried his theory. “Come over here.”

You were entirely lost in the music, eyes closed, jamming to it almost naked in front of your tied up boyfriend. Well, fiance. “Or what?”

“You damn brat—”

“Are you gonna spank me, daddy?” you taunted him coquettishly. The laugh that followed had Namjoon considering whether he made the greatest mistake of his life by getting addicted to you.

“I swear, if I get my hands on you—” he said, his voice raspy.

“I’m wondering how that is going to happen…” you mused, still moving to the beat of the music, the swaying of your hips reminding him why he always let you ride him that much.

He shrugged and shook his head, a drip of precum reminding him he was definitely overestimating his liberties. “I won’t be tied up forever.”

“I can lock myself in the guestroom,” you reminded him.

“But you can’t stay locked in there forever,” he replied with a sadistic smirk.

One more shrug before you lowered the vibrations — he was enjoying the toy way too much. “Too bad you’re a workaholic and I’m alone most of the time I’m in here.”

He kept a straight face at the stimulation fading, but he was not as serene about the reminder. “I’ll work from home.”

“Don’t bother yourself for me.”

Your remark poisoned him. “Come over here, babylove. Please.”

You obeyed. Not without grabbing the dildo that had been mocking Namjoon from the very first second of your striptease. He knew you would fuck yourself with it and keep him salivating, watching.

You placed it between his legs and kneeled, untying his ankles. “Keep it still.”

“Please, Vixen.” He wouldn’t be able to stand that.

You shook your head. “Maybe you don’t get it yet, but you must do what I tell you.”

He followed your instructions and stayed quiet. He watched you drool all over the toy before you collected his sticky cum with your fingers. You observed your fingertips for a second, then drew the tip of the silicone cock.

“Miss.”

You looked at him. His eyes were darker, his face more relaxed, no scrunching or pouting or begging. “Yes, Joonie bear.”

“Are you going to lick that, miss?” He had given up. He had pushed you too far.

“What would you like me to lick, Joonie? The dildo? Your cum on my fingers?” Your voice was more gentle and calm this time, no mocking in sight.

“The cum.”

You didn’t think twice. You licked your fingers clean, then straddled Namjoon comfortably, holding the toy as you tried to insert it.

“Doesn’t it hurt, Miss?”

You smiled. This was the submissive you wanted from the start. “It feels just fine, Joonie bear.” He was drenched in sweat, and you had to push his hair off his face to look him in the eye properly. You kissed his jaw, eyes rolling shut as the toy — significantly smaller than Namjoon — slipped in effortlessly. “I'm sorry I was mean to you, love.”

“It's okay.” Seeing him from this up close, so tired and weak, softened you a little.

“I said bad things about your job. I didn't mean it.” You pressed your lips to his, and he whimpered into your mouth, moving the dildo as he shifted for relief. “Do you need me to slow down? Are you still into this, baby?”

“Yes, I'm feeling good, Miss. Please, use me.” He looked so broken. “Use me.” This time he was truly begging.

“Can I use the toy just once? I'll use you afterwards, I promise, darling.” You stretched to kiss his brow. “I promise.”

He nodded, speechless, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he smelled the way his cologne changed as it mixed with your perspiration. It was more opulent and decadent, it became more exotic and dark, almost sweet.

“I wanna put the vibrations on max so I can press your ring to my clit and cum like that.”

He stretched to your mouth. “Please, do it.” He licked your jaw, his arms twitching. He would have grabbed your ass if he were free. He would have helped you grind on him, on the toy, on whatever.

You changed the setting quickly, feeling Namjoon exhale against you, slowly, his breath so cool on your burning skin. “I'm gonna cum again. I'm not sure I can fuck you after that, if that's what you were thinking.”

“You can,” you reassured him. “I'll give you a pause and fuck your face in the meantime.”

He cackled. “That's what I meant by 'use me'”. He groaned once you grabbed his cock, fixing its angle so that the knob of the ring rested on your clit perfectly. “Are we still power playing?”

You shook your head. “We're back to us if you want to.”

He nodded. “I want to.” You both hummed as you started undulating a little on him. Your tummy stroked his sex, the ring took care of your clit, your front adhered to his as you abandoned your body on top of his. “It was fun. But extenuating. I miss my daddy.” You kissed his neck, nipping at it very lightly.

“Daddy's always here, Vixen. Always yours.” He recognised your approaching high. Maybe you would be faster than him and—

There. You were done. Your thighs tightened all of a sudden, your body tensed for maybe five seconds before it all came loose. “Joonie,” you whined out, relief washing over you as you found the utmost pleasure. “Daddy,” you called, Namjoon fighting against the manacles restricting his wrists.

“I'm here, baby. I just need my wrists free, baby fox.”

You stayed loose and lazy for half a second before switching off the toy. Namjoon sighed in relief, your body once more abandoned against his. “Baby fox, free my wrists, please.”

You did as you were told, your hands skillfully operating without you even looking.

“Good girl,” he rewarded you as you undid the first cuff. He stayed still until they both plopped onto the comfy pillow of the armchair. “Get off that toy, babylove. Now.”

You lifted high enough for him to remove the dildo from inside you.

“I told you I would destroy you once you'd free me. Am I correct?”

You looked up at him. And there it was, that little cocky grin. “You said you would spank me.”

“I did not. I let you believe it.”

You faked outrage as you unglued yourself from him and stared. “Unfair!”

He pulled you closer and slid inside you, almost impaling you. “Fuck!” you squeaked before he grabbed your face.

“What?”

“Fuck,” you spat out. “Me,” you added, a look of challenge in your face.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and next thing you knew, your back was pressed to the wall, his hot chest against yours. “Hold on tight.”

[bechloeislegit]

My Spy - EPILOGUE

Set fives years after Beca and Chloe [finally] got back together. Warning: Lots of fluff ahead.

I know I'm late posting this, but I just love this AU so much I wanted to keep going. I do intend to come back to it for some one-shots and such at a later date. Enjoy!

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

Beca woke to her alarm and immediately shut it off. She snuggled closer to Chloe and exhaled a sigh of contentment.

"Happy Anniversary," Beca mumbled.

"Mmmm," Chloe mumbled. "What anniversary is today?"

Beca pulled back to look at Chloe.

"You don't remember?" Beca asked. "It's been five years since you moved to LA; five years ago today since you moved in with me."

"Oh," Chloe said, kissing Beca behind her ear. "Maybe we should celebrate."

"Dinner out tonight?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of something we could do now. In bed."

Chloe kissed Beca's lips. Beca moaned and pulled away.

"I have to be in the studio in less than an hour," Beca said. "I really don't want to go in all hot and bothered. Raincheck after we get back from dinner?"

"Okay," Chloe sighed. "But I'm going to hold you to that."

"I promise," Beca said, giving Chloe a chaste kiss on the lips. "I'm going to take a quick, mostly cold shower, and get ready for work."

Chloe reached for Beca. Beca moved out of her reach and slipped out of bed, quickly rushing into their ensuite to shower.

"I love you!" Chloe called after Beca as she closed the bathroom door.

Beca poked her head out the door, smiled, and said, "I love you, too."

A few seconds later, Chloe smiled when she heard the shower start and then Beca's squeal as she stepped under what was most definitely cold water.

~~ My Spy ~~

After work, Beca came through the front door of her LA home to find Chloe sitting on the couch, talking on the phone. She set her bag by the door and made her way over to Chloe. Beca laid on her back, putting her head in Chloe's lap.

Chloe continued her conversation and started playing with Beca's hair. She slid her fingers through to lift the strands before letting them fall back down to settle around her lap.

"Beca just got home and we're going out to dinner, Aunt Peggy," Chloe said, smiling down at Beca. "I'll be sure and tell her. Okay, I'll talk to you later."

Chloe ended the call and leaned down to kiss Beca. "Aunt Peggy says Hi."

"Hi," Beca said, smiling and sitting up to thoroughly kiss Chloe. "How was your day?"

"It was quite exciting," Chloe said. "And a little bit heartbreaking."

"Oh," Beca said. "How so?"

"Well, at recess, Timmy Dexter lost a tooth on the playground," Chloe said. "We spent almost twenty minutes looking for it. We didn't find it and he was quite upset because he didn't have anything to leave for the tooth fairy. I felt so bad for him."

Beca chuckled and said, "I can't wait until we have to deal with things like the Tooth Fairy, Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus."

"I'm just glad that we'll be dealing with all those things together."

"You're such a cheeseball," Beca said, smiling at Chloe. "And I love you even more for it."

"Good," Chloe said, giving Beca a quick kiss. "Because you're stuck with me for life."

"That's one life sentence I don't mind serving," Beca said. "As long as I'm serving it with you."

"Now, who's the cheeseball?" Chloe said, chuckling as she stood. "Where do you want to go for dinner?"

"I've been craving Mexican food all day," Beca said.

"Are you craving Mexican food?" Chloe asked with a sly smile. "Or is Baby Beale craving Mexican food?"

"What?" Beca asked in astonishment. "How did you know? I was going to surprise you and tell you at dinner."

"Babe," Chloe said, smiling at Beca. "I wasn't totally positive, but I had my suspicions. And you just confirmed that I was right. So, when are we due?"

"I'm only about six weeks pregnant now," Beca said. "So, we're due sometime in mid-to late-November."

"I'm so happy right now," Chloe said, as a tear ran down her face.

Beca stood and pulled Chloe to her. She wiped the tear from Chloe's cheek with her thumb.

"Our lives are truly about to change," Beca said. "For the better. I can't believe I got pregnant on the first try."

"I know," Chloe sniffled. "I can't wait to tell Aunt Peggy. She's going to be over the moon."

"I can't wait to tell the Bellas," Beca said. "We were the first to get married and now we're the second to get pregnant."

"Is everything a competition with you and the Bellas?" Chloe asked, chuckling.

"Yes, and as far as I'm concerned, I'm, um, we're winning," Beca said, kissing Chloe.

They kissed for a few minutes and Chloe pulled back.

"Do you still want to go out to eat?"

"We can just order something for delivery."

"Or, we just skip dinner for now and finish what we started this morning."

"I like the way you think."

Beca grabbed Chloe's hand and pulled her up the stairs to their bedroom. Chloe giggled the entire way.

~~ My Spy ~~

A few hours later, Beca and Chloe were sitting up in bed, eating from a tray that Chloe had put together for them.

"I almost forgot," Beca said, grabbing some grapes from the tray, and popping one in her mouth. "Amy called me today."

"Really?" Chloe said, biting into a cracker with cheese. "What did she want?"

"She's decided she's done seeing the World," Beca said, popping another grape into her mouth. "And she's planning to relocate here to LA. She wanted to know if she could stay with us while she looked for a house to buy."

"When will she be here?" Chloe asked, finishing her cracker.

"She's planning on coming back to the states in early September," Beca said. "I told her I'd have to discuss it with you first. It's a ways off so we have plenty of time before we have to give her an answer."

"Why wait?" Chloe asked with a laugh. "She's a Bella and she's family. We both know she'll be staying here. You could have just told her yes when you were talking to her."

"I know," Beca said. "But she called right after Dr. Matthews called to tell me I was pregnant. And I was too excited to say much of anything to her. I'll tell her she can stay with us, but she has to be out by the time the baby gets here. I'll tell her after we let the Bellas know I'm pregnant."

"That's a good idea," Chloe said. "How and when are we going to tell the Bellas?"

"We can tell them once I hit the three-month mark," Beca suggested. "Everyone is scattered all over and the easiest way to tell everyone at once is on a Skype or Zoom call."

"I like that idea," Chloe said, biting on her lower lip. "So, um, speaking of the baby, I wanted to talk to you about something."

"You're not sorry I'm the one carrying it are you?" Beca asked, her voice tinged with concern. "You're still okay with that, right?"

"Of course, I'm okay with it," Chloe said, turning Beca's hand to intertwine their fingers. "I promise, everything's fine. In fact, everything's perfect. I've never been happier."

"Then what do you want to talk about?"

"I was hoping that I could put in my notice at the end of this school year," Chloe said, looking down at their intertwined hands. "I really want to be a stay-at-home mom."

"I thought you liked your job," Beca said.

"I love my job," Chloe said, lifting her eyes to look at Beca. "I just love the idea of being a stay-at-home mom more."

Chloe sighed and ran her free hand through her hair. "I want to be involved in every aspect of our kid growing up. I hope that's okay."

"It's more than okay with me," Beca said, smiling at Chloe. "I don't want our kids raised by nannies. I'm actually envious of you. If you made more money as a teacher, I'd quit my job and stay at home with the baby myself."

"I'm so glad you're okay with me quitting and staying at home," Chloe squealed and threw herself onto Beca, causing Beca to fall back onto the bed with Chloe on top of her.

"I guess we're done eating," Beca said, raising her head to capture Chloe's lips in a kiss.

"Maybe you are," Chloe said against Beca's lips. "But I'm just getting started."

"Oh, okay," Beca said as Chloe moved her lips to Beca's jaw and then down her neck. "Mmmm!"

Chloe continued dropping kisses down Beca's body. After momentarily stopping to give some attention to each of Beca's breasts, Chloe kissed Beca's stomach and continued moving down, causing Beca's hips to lift off the bed when Chloe's tongue found its mark.

"Yes!" Beca cried out, moaning again as she spread her legs to give Chloe more room.

~~ My Spy ~~

A month later, Beca and Chloe were enjoying a quiet evening at home. Beca had just completed arrangements to have a Zoom call with the Bellas to tell them about Beca's pregnancy.

"We're scheduled to do a Zoom videoconference with the Bellas on Saturday," Beca said. "It's confirmed for ten in the morning to accommodate for the time difference in Mykonos for Aubrey."

"Okay," Chloe said. "I want to call Aunt Peggy and tell her today if that's okay with you?"

"Is everything okay?" Beca asked, looking at Chloe.

"What do you mean? Everything's fine."

"You act like you need my permission to do stuff," Beca said. "You know you don't need my permission to call Aunt Peggy or do anything else you want, right? I love you and trust your judgment without question."

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, wringing her hands. "I'm just really nervous about the whole pregnancy and becoming a mom thing."

"I'm nervous about all of it, too," Beca admitted, smiling softly. "But, I'm also very excited about it. We're going to be the best moms ever. Now, let's call Aunt Peggy and tell her the news, okay?"

"Okay," Chloe said, pulling out her phone. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course, I know that," Beca said, pulling Chloe into a kiss. "I love you, too. Now, stop stalling and call Aunt Peggy."

"Yes, ma'am," Chloe said and placed the call.

"Chloe, dear, how are you?" Peggy's voice came through the phone. "How's Beca?"

"We're both good," Chloe said. "We have some news to tell you."

"Oh," Peggy said. "Who's pregnant? You or Beca?"

"Beca is," Chloe said. "But, uh, how, um, how could you possibly know that's what I was going to tell you? We never told you we were trying."

"I'm so happy and excited for you," Aunt Peggy said, ignoring the question. "When is Beca due? Are you going to find out the sex? Do you have names picked out?"

Chloe laughed. "Slow down," she said. "The baby is due in November and we haven't discussed finding out the sex. So, no names have been picked out either."

"I can't wait to tell your Uncle Matt," Peggy said. "I'm sure he'll be as thrilled as I am."

Beca walked to stand next to Chloe, causing her to look at Beca.

"Ask her if they want to come here for Thanksgiving," Beca whispered. "And meet the baby."

Chloe nodded and said, "Aunt Peggy, we know it's a few months off, but Beca wants to know if you guys want to come here for Thanksgiving. I mean, the baby should be here by then and it would be the perfect time for you to meet him. Or her."

"I'd love that," Peggy said. "And I don't see any reason why we couldn't, but I'll talk to your Uncle Matt and let you know for sure."

"Okay," Chloe said. "Give Uncle Matt our best. We love you."

"We love you, too," Peggy said. "Congratulations and I'll talk to you soon. Bye, Chloe."

"Bye, Aunt Peggy," Chloe said and ended the call.

"So?" Beca prompted.

"She thinks they'll be here," Chloe said. "She needs to check with Uncle Matt and she'll let us know for sure."

~~ My Spy ~~

Saturday morning found Beca and Chloe sitting in front of Beca's laptop waiting for the Bellas to join the Zoom call. Beca was chewing her thumbnail as her leg bounced up and down. Chloe reached over and gently placed a hand on Beca's leg.

"I'm sorry," Beca said. "I'm just so nervous. I know they'll be happy for us."

"It's okay, babe," Chloe said. "It will be fine."

Chloe leaned in and kissed Beca. As she started to pull back, Beca grabbed her behind the head and held her in place while she deepened the kiss. Chloe put her hands on Beca's waist and melted into the kiss.

The laptop pinged indicating people were joining the call. Beca and Chloe looked at the screen to see that several of the girls were smiling back at them.

"Oh, um, hey guys," Beca said, blushing as she gently pushed Chloe from her. "We, um, we'll wait until everyone is on before we get started, okay?"

Chloe sat back and took Beca's hand in hers.

"Okay," Jessica and Ashley said.

Emily, Flo, and Aubrey all nodded to signify their agreement.

"Hey, Pitches!" Amy yelled out from the screen.

"Glad you could join us, Amy," Beca said. "Oh, hey, Stacie. Will we get to see Bella, too?"

"Not today," Stacie said. "She's with my mom."

"That's too bad," Emily said.

CR and Lily joined the call and it looked as if everyone was connected.

"Beca, I think we're all here now," Aubrey said, getting everyone's attention. "So, what's going on?"

"Are one of you pregnant?" Stacie asked, causing Beca's head to snap over and look at her through the screen.

"There's no surprising anyone is there?" Beca huffed to Chloe.

Chloe smiled and kissed her cheek. She turned toward the screen and said, "Beca's pregnant and she's due in November."

"That's aca-awesome," Aubrey said. "Congratulations!"

"Yeah, congratulations you guys," Emily squealed.

"I knew it!" Stacie yelled.

"Maybe we should invite whoever wants to come for Thanksgiving here," Chloe leaned in and whispered in Beca's ear. "Make it a real family affair."

"Should we?"

"Yeah. We can have Thanksgiving together and they can meet the baby, too."

"Sounds like a-"

"What are you two whispering about?" Amy asked, causing all the girls to stare at Beca and Chloe through their computer screens.

"Um, we were just talking and wanted to know if any of you can or want to come here for Thanksgiving," Chloe said. "We'll supply all the food and you can all meet the baby. He or she should be here by then."

"I'd love to," CR said. "Can't wait to meet Baby Beale."

"I'll already be there," Amy said.

Emily squealed and accepted the invitation.

"I accept, too," Aubrey said. "I'll be coming back to the U.S. in October, so I can be in LA for Thanksgiving."

The rest of the Bellas accepted and they agreed to discuss it further as time got closer.

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe's last day of teaching was bittersweet. She loved her students and had become friends with several of the teachers. The day was over and her students had given her flowers and all hugged her as they were leaving.

Chloe was looking around the room one last time, ensuring she hadn't forgotten anything, when Sandy Clark, one of the teachers, walked in carrying a bottle of champagne.

"We can't have you leaving without a little celebration," Sandy said, waving the champagne toward Chloe. "Come with me. The others are waiting in the Teacher's Lounge."

Chloe smiled and followed Sandy out the door.

"Surprise!" Everyone yelled as soon as Chloe entered the room.

Chloe gasped and placed her hand over her heart.

"You guys!" Chloe exclaimed, looking around the room at the decorations.

Not only were they giving her a going-away party, but they were also combining it with a baby shower.

"Beca!" Chloe squealed, seeing Beca standing at the back of the group.

"Hey," Beca said as Chloe pulled her into a quick kiss.

"I thought you were in the studio all day," Chloe said.

"I actually worked from home until I had to leave to come to this," Beca said, chuckling. "Eleanor over there was quite persuasive in her instance that I be here. They pulled the loud surprise on me when I walked in, too."

Chloe looked over at Eleanor and smiled.

"We can't have a baby shower without both mothers, can we?" Eleanor said.

"This is all so amazing," Chloe said.

"Here," Sandy said, handing Chloe a glass of champagne.

Chloe took the glass and looked at Beca.

"Go ahead," Beca said. "I took a Lyft so I could ride home with you. Drink up and I'll drive us both home."

"God, I love you," Chloe said, kissing Beca and then taking a sip of champagne.

"Here you go, Beca," Eleanor said, handing Beca a ginger ale. "Some bubbly for the little mama without actually drinking the bubbly."

Beca laughed and took the drink. "Thank you."

"Okay, everyone," Eleanor said. "Eat up so we can get to the presents!"

Everyone started chattering and making their plates. Chloe made a plate for her and Beca to share. Beca had made plans to take Chloe out to celebrate her last day of work and they didn't want to spoil their dinner.

Once everyone had their fill, Sandy and Eleanor gathered everyone around Beca and Chloe.

"Chloe," Sandy said, holding out a box wrapped in pink and blue bunnies. "This is from me."

Chloe took the box and handed it to Beca.

"Babe, why don't you open it?"

"Let's open it together," Beca said.

She and Chloe pulled at the paper and opened the box.

Everyone 'oohed' and 'awwed' over the onesies in the box.

"They're so small," Beca exclaimed as she held them up.

~~ My Spy ~~

Amy moved to LA but did not stay with Beca and Chloe. She found and bought a home online.

"You bought a house without seeing it first?" Beca asked as she spoke to Amy on the phone.

"I saw the pictures, Beca," Amy said. "It has everything I was looking for. And the fact that it's only two blocks from you is an added bonus."

"When do you move in?"

"At the end of September," Amy said. "I'll just be traveling until then. I've hired a decorator and will have everything already set up when I move in. I won't have to worry about any of that normal moving stuff."

Beca chuckled. "I can't wait to see it. And you. I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too. And, don't worry, I'll send you an invite to my epic housewarming party," Amy said. "Gotta go, my date's here."

"Have fun," Beca said, ending the call.

~~ My Spy ~~

Summer quickly faded into Fall and Beca's pregnancy advanced as it should. Regular checkups indicated that all was going well.

Chloe didn't have work anymore so she kept herself busy by working on the nursery. It was her pet project and she was trying to make it perfect for their soon-to-be addition to the family. Her biggest decision to date was what color to paint the walls. The couple had opted not to find out the sex of the baby; they wanted to be surprised so Chloe was looking for a neutral color.

Early one Wednesday morning in late October, Chloe was startled awake by the ringing of her phone. She heard and felt Beca stirring beside her and quickly grabbed the phone off the nightstand.

"Hello," Chloe croaked out in answering the phone.

"Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"This is Carol Baxter," the voice said. "I'm sorry for calling so early but, I was wondering if you would be willing to come in and substitute for Sandy's class?"

"Is she okay?" Chloe asked, sitting up in bed.

"Her father passed away last night and she has to go to Wisconsin," Carol said. "She thinks she'll be gone for a week. I just need you to sub for today while I find someone to take the rest of the time she's out."

"I'll do it," Chloe said. "And I can do the whole week."

"Are you sure?" Carol asked.

"Yes, I'm sure," Chloe said, getting out of bed. "I'll be there by eight."

"Thank you, so much, Chloe," Carol said. "I certainly do appreciate it. I know the kids and teachers will love seeing you again."

"Thank you, Carol," Chloe said. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"What's going on?" Beca asked as soon as Chloe ended the call.

"Carol asked me to sub for Sandy," Chloe said. "Sandy's dad passed away and she has to go out of town for a week."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Beca mumble sleepily. "I don't have to be in the studio for a few more hours. I think I'm going to go back to bed for a while."

Chloe went to Beca's side of the bed and leaned down to kiss Beca.

"Have a good day," Chloe said. "I'll see you when you get home."

Late that day, Beca came home to find Chloe sitting on the couch with papers all around. Beca joined Chloe and moved some of the papers so she could sit down.

"What's going on here?" Beca asked, looking at one of the papers.

"Just grading some papers," Chloe said, smiling. "It was great seeing everyone today. I missed them."

"Are you rethinking your decision to quit?"

"God, no," Chloe said quickly. "I'm all in to be a stay-at-home mom. Seeing the kids today made me even more excited about our own kids. Watching them grow and go off to school. Helping with their homework. Being there for their first steps, first words, all their firsts. I don't want to miss any of that."

"I love how much you love me and our baby," Beca said, smiling.

"I do love you both," Chloe said, pulling Beca into a kiss. "Very much."

Chloe kept her arm around Beca's shoulders, and Beca snuggled into her side.

"What's for dinner?" Beca asked.

~~ My Spy ~~

October moved into November and Chloe was becoming a nervous wreck. Every time Beca so much as groaned or put her hand to her stomach, Chloe was by her side to make sure she was okay.

After about the fiftieth time in a week of this happening, Beca was becoming frustrated.

"Babe," Beca said the next time it happened. "I'm fine. You need to relax. All this checking on me is making me frustrated and anxious. That's not good for me or the baby. So, please, if you love me, you'll relax, okay?"

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, shaking out her hands. "I'm just so nervous about everything. I mean, the nursery is ready and we have all the big stuff we need. But, what about the little stuff? Do we have enough diapers for when we bring the baby home? Do we need more bottles? Can we-"

"Babe," Beca interrupted, with a gentle smile. "We're ready. I promise. We have everything we need to start out and can get whatever else we need when the need arises."

"You're right," Chloe said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "I'll relax and let mother nature take its course."

"Thank you," Beca said.

Chloe kept her promise until Beca's due date came and went. Chloe became anxious again and Beca had enough the Saturday before Thanksgiving.

"Chloe," Beca said. "I made a list of things we need for Thanksgiving dinner. Would you mind doing the grocery shopping today? I want to make some dishes in advance so we can enjoy having everyone here and not be in the kitchen all day."

"Sure, babe," Chloe said. "Will you be okay by yourself while I'm gone?"

"Yes, Chloe," Beca said. "I'll be fine. I'll keep my phone on me and call you if anything happens, okay?"

Chloe breathed in through her nose and chewed her lip. "Okay, I'll go. But you'd better keep your phone on you and call me if you so much as feel a twinge."

Beca smiled as she leaned in to kiss Chloe. "I promise."

Chloe had been gone about an hour and was in the middle of the grocery store when her phone rang. She quickly pulled it out expecting to see Beca's name on the caller ID; instead, it was Amy's.

"Amy?" Chloe answered the call. "What-"

"Chloe, you have to get to the hospital," Amy blurted out.

"What?" Chloe asked, stopping her cart in the middle of the aisle.

"Beca's at the hospital," Amy said. "She's in labor and she's shouting for you."

"What hospital?" Chloe asked, abandoning her cart and sprinting toward the exit.

"LA Presbyterian," Amy said. "You'd better hurry."

"I'm on my way," Chloe said, unlocking the car door. "Tell her I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay," Amy said. "See you soon."

Chloe drove calmly but quickly to the hospital. She pulled into the parking lot and rushed inside to the main desk.

"I'm Chloe Beale," Chloe told the receptionist. "My wife was just brought in. She's in labor."

"One moment, ma'am," the receptionist said. "What's your wife's name?"

"Chloe!"

Chloe jerked her head around to see Amy and several of the Bellas standing a few feet away.

"Thank goodness, you're here," Emily said as she rushed over to Chloe, grabbing her arm. "Come on."

Chloe rushed off with Emily and joined the other girls.

"Are Beca and the baby okay?" Chloe asked.

"We haven't heard anything yet," Aubrey said.

"How are you all here?" Chloe asked, looking around at everyone.

"We all came early to give you guys a surprise Baby Shower," Jessica replied. "Turns out, we were the ones who were surprised."

"Yeah," Ashley said. "We went to your house and Beca answered doubled over and told us she was in labor. Everything started happening so fast."

"We thought we were going to be delivering the baby ourselves," Stacie said.

"Family of Rebeca Beale?" a voice called out, causing all the girls to turn toward the sound.

"Um, I'm her wife," Chloe said, stepping forward.

"I'm Dr. Johnson," the man said. "Congratulations, you have a son."

The girls gathered around Chloe and started chatting and oohing and awwing over the fact that Beca and Chloe had a son.

Chloe's eyes were wide as she stood there stunned. "I have a son?"

"Yes," Dr. Johnson said. "Would you like to see your wife and son?"

Chloe swallowed and nodded her head.

"Follow me," Dr. Johnson said, smiling at Chloe.

Chloe followed Dr. Johnson and entered the room where he held the door open for her.

"Chloe!" Beca cried out. "We have a son."

"I heard," Chloe said, as she rushed over to Beca's bedside.

Chloe looked down at the newborn cradled in Beca's arms. Tears started streaming down her face.

"He's beautiful," Chloe whispered in awe. "And, so tiny."

Chloe sniffled and wiped at the tears on her face.

"I can't believe I missed his birth," Chloe said.

"I'm sorry," Beca said, reaching up to cup Chloe's face. "It all happened so fast. If the Bellas hadn't shown up when they did, I might have had him on our living room floor."

Chloe chuckled as she sat on the side of the bed, her eyes never leaving the baby. "That would have been quite the story to tell."

"So," Beca said. "What are we going to name him?"

"Can we name him after my dad?" Chloe asked.

"I'd love that," Beca said, looking down at the baby. "He looks a bit like a William. Or maybe a Billy."

"Billy Beale," Chloe said, looking down as the baby stretched and yawned in Beca's arms. "I think he likes it."

Beca looked down at her son and said, "Billy Beale I'd like to introduce you to your mama." Beca then turned to look up at Chloe. "Mama, meet your son, William "Billy" Beale."

Chloe gently took the baby from Beca and bounced him lightly in her arms.

"Hello, son," Chloe whispered.

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

A/N: I know, I know, I left it open-ended because I really like this AU and I may come back to them later for some holiday one-shots.

Thanks for sticking with me to the end. This is not goodbye, it's just ta-ta for now.

[glytchfic]

We started as a spark. PART 1.

David Dastmalchian x Fem!Reader

Hellooo guys! So i’m back for the official Part 1. I’m glad so many of you enjoyed the Prologue, it’s really appreciated. I don’t know at what frequency exactly i’ll be able to upload because i’m in college - you know the drill with college lol fml - and i’ll probably get busier and busier as the week goes by, but i’ll keep you posted as much as i can! As usual, if you have any criticism or anything, just let me know.

Enjoy! 

Rating: 18+

Warnings, i’ll probably add more as i go: slow burn, foul language. 

Inspired by the song False Alarm by Matoma & Becky Hills.

___________________________________________________________

I hear a knock on the door and I open my eyes a little bit. I turn around, hide under my blanket and close my eyes again. I can feel myself dozing off again and I hear another knock, louder this time. After a sign of despair, I get up and stumble to my front door, not entirely awake yet. I open it and see a red-haired man walking right through it. I groan. Here comes the legendary Steve Agee with his early morning attitude. 

‘I’ve been waiting for 15 minutes downstairs.’  

‘How come Richard let you through?’ 

‘The man at the lobby? I told him your darkest deepest secret to prove I knew you and he let me through. Now get dressed, we’re gonna be late.’ Steve commands. 

‘Late for what?’ I ask, apparently confused.  

He frowns at me and tilts his head a bit. After a couple of seconds, it hit me. 

‘Aw fuck the table read!’ I scream as I run to my room.  

‘Nice PJ by the way.’ 

I mutter a ‘Fuck you’ under my breath as I search for something decent to wear to our first table read. I put on something quite simple – black leggings and a white T-shirt – and grab my phone on my bedside table. One text from my mom, eight missed calls from Steve and one text from – oh my god – David.  

‘I reserved a seat for you and Steve right next to me. You’re welcome.’ 

I can’t help but smile. I first met David a month ago when James – James Gunn – decided to organize something at his place so the crew could get to know each other. To my biggest surprise, David and I hit it off immediately. But if I’m being honest with myself, it does not help the huge attraction I have for him.  

‘Are you coming or not?’ Steve yells while jingling his car keys.  

‘Oh my god, I hope you got us coffee before you got here because you’re insufferable right now!’ I yell back. 

_

I take a sip of my coffee as I look out through the window.  

‘Sorry for making us late.’ I say calmer than earlier. 

‘Don’t you have an assistant to help you keep track of all that?’ Steve points out.  

‘Yep. Might fire him.’  

Steve parks the car and I get out of it, coffee in hand. I gaze at the building, and I see the Warner Bros logo at the top of it. I look at my phone and see we’re only ten minutes late, which is not so bad. Chances are we’re not gonna be the only ones late. We enter the building and I follow Steve, who knows this place much better than I do. We arrive in front of door 171 and he opens it for me like the gentlemen that he is. With a loud bang, the door closes behind us and everybody turns around to stare at us. 

‘Hey.’ I say with an apologetic tone.  

‘Have you, at least, brought coffee for everyone?’ James chuckles. 

I mouth a sincere ‘Sorry’ as I look around for my place. I see David in the corner waving at me and Steve. He smiles at me as I sit next to him, and I can feel my face getting a little bit hotter. I really need to calm down. I can’t let him have this much effect on me. 

‘Did you get lost?’ he whispers to me. 

‘Worse than that. I forgot.’ I whisper back and he chuckles a bit.  

He hands me a copy of the script and we finally begin our first table read for The Suicide Squad. James shares with us his thoughts about most parts of the movie, some information we need to know about the underlying messages and all the important dates we need to know about the productions. After a few hours of reading and re-reading some parts, we leave the room and the first I do is lean against the wall in the corridor, holding my rumbling stomach.  

‘Are you pregnant or something?’ Steve said in his mocking tone. 

‘Fuck off, Steve.’ 

He laughs. Being very vocal about not wanting kids, he knows it annoys the shit out of me when he makes those kinds of comments. But since I’ve known him for years and we became good friends, it just became – in a way – a running gag between us. And maybe because most of my attempts at the relationship thing failed because of the baby thing and he knows all about it. He’s an asshole and I love him for that. 

‘All jokes aside, wanna grab a bite? You look like shit.’ 

‘You look like shit.’ I smile at him, and he smiles back, ‘but yeah, we should. Coffee only diet is not good.’ 

‘Wait here. I’ll ask David if he wants to come with us.’ 

Hearing his name makes me a bit weak. I see Steve walking away from me to join another group of the crew a bit farther in the corridor. I lean my head against the wall, and I close my eyes. I’ve only seen David face to face a few times this last month – and never completely alone – so I’m not really used to having him around me yet. Our brand-new friendship mainly developed from the fact that we realized from the get-go we had a lot of things in common and we shared those interests via text messages. You know, Youtube videos and memes as any friends would do. Let’s put the emphasis on the word friends here since, you know, we’re gonna be weeks long together filming and stuff. 

‘Well, hello Clarice.’ 

I smirk at the nickname and open my eyes to see David looking at me with a grin. Since he’s learned that I’m a huge fan of The Silence of the Lambs - and of horror movies in general – he's been calling me Clarice or Miss Sterling from time to time.  

‘Doctor Lecter.’ I say as professionally as possible which makes both of us laugh. 

‘Stop playing around kids, I’m hungry let’s go!’ Steve exclaims. 

_

‘Uh-huh, I can’t agree with that, I’m sorry but -’ I say while chewing on my burger. 

‘Oh my god, really?’ David replies, interrupting me. 

‘Let me explain,’’ I swallow my bite and wave at them to calm down before I continue, ‘look, I do think George Lucas was right to change a few things about his original Star Wars movies since we do have better VFX and CGI for it now. It doesn’t change anything story wise so who cares?’ 

‘Unbelievable.’ David simply said under his breath. 

‘Okay, that’s enough. I don’t care, I’m gonna say it: I’m ashamed to be your friend.’ Steve dead-pan comments. 

‘I have every right to say it and I’m gonna say it goddamn it! George was right!’ I exclaim. 

Both take their faces in their own hands, and I can’t help but chuckle as a sip my milkshake. There’s nothing like creating pure chaos with Star Wars fans. I let them try to explain to me how wrong I was, and I continue eating, amuse. As I am looking at Steve explaining a deep theory about the Star Wars universe, I see from the corner of my eyes that David is glancing at me. I subtly look in his direction and he immediately turn his stare away when our eyes connect. I smirk and turn my attention back to Steve.  

‘So, anyway, that’s why you’re wrong.’ Steve says as a matter of fact. 

‘Sure buddy.’ I laugh.  

Steve rolls his eyes and looks at his phone. He sighs, gets up and puts some cash money on the table. 

‘Gotta go. I have a meeting with some friends for a photography session. You guys have fun.’  

We wave him goodbye and in just a few seconds, he was gone. I turn my attention to David, and it hit me. It’s officially the first time we’re completely alone. Completely, not really, we’re still in a public place but there’s no Steve or no James to keep the conversation going. I’ve never struggled with small talk or any talking really, but somehow, it’s the first time in my entire life where I’m legitimately concerned about me not knowing what to say or what to do.  

‘I didn’t know you were such a drama queen about Star Wars’ I say to David, trying to mock him a bit. 

‘I thought they were called public nuisance now?’  

I let out a sincere laugh, ‘In no way whatsoever you could be a public nuisance.’ 

‘I will take that as a compliment’ he says with a lovely smile. 

Fuck, this friendship is gonna be hard to deal with.  

[hes-writer]

Routine

Summary: y/n catches harry live streaming a show

Warning: smut

Word Count: 2293 words

___

University was no joke. It’s expensive for sure. Harry had a full-time job at the beginning of the semester working at a cafe near his flat. He soon found out that that wasn’t the best idea. Maybe because he didn’t manage his time right or it was simply too exhausting for him to work late hours when he had to take mandatory morning classes. His next solution was more--risky per se. 

Harry had always been confident with his body. He ate well; loading up on fruit smoothies and veggie shakes every morning to accompany him on his early morning workouts. The sweat beading in between his toned pecs made him revel in the accomplishments of self-care, washed away as he palmed his face underneath the stream of the locker room shower. His wet curls stuck to his small ears as he pulled his sweater over his body, exiting the gym with a bag slung over his shoulder, plucking a peace sign to the person at the front desk as he left the building. 

It started off as a blog; posting pictures of his body that he worked hard on. The narcissist in him craved the compliments of strangers drooling over his muscles and shapely body. Sometimes the messages he received were explicit, but he also couldn’t help the arousal flowing through his veins as blood pumped towards his cock. Thus, the next part of his routine was to go home to his flat and strip his body off of his clothes. His webcam would be switched on with a push of a button, his long fingers floating over the keyboard as he signed in to his account. 

Speaking of, the meat between his thighs plumped up with the lingering thought of user ‘sweetgirl112’ messages last night. How much she wanted to tuck his thick length in her mouth, how much she craved to feel his large hands adorning her body. God, she had such a way with words and here Harry was with an erection pudging up in his lycra leggings. An outline of his mushroom head visible through the tight material. He played with his bottom lip as he waited for the traffic light to turn green. One hand tapped against the steering wheel in a rhythmic pattern, his mind drifting away to how it would feel like to have those pleasures within his reach. 

But he didn’t. 

He rushed off from his seat, quickly locking his car and keying the front door to his flat. Harry was hornier than usual today, thanks to sweetgirl’s lovely messages from last night. Harry rolled his eyes at the effect the stranger had on him. He dropped the chain dangling from his fingers on the bowl beside his door, sighing with excitement as he toed off his runners. 

On the couch, Y/N snoozed with her mouth agape, hair messily splayed across the pillow he provided her. He almost forgot she had slept over last night during their movie night. She insisted to sleep on the sofa despite Harry offering his bed to share between the both of them. In the end, both of them slept on the uncomfortable cushion cuddled up into one another. The distance between them was non-existent but Harry found it endearing the way Y/N cuddled up into his body in order not to fall off the edge, snuggling into his chest with a quiet snore after jolting when one of her legs tumbled of the border. 

Nonetheless, that meant that Harry had to tone his volume down a bit, keeping a keen ear to make sure his noises don’t wake her up or arise any alarm from his friend. He crouched down beside her sleeping face, waving a hand over her eyes to make sure she was still in a deep sleep. 

“Hope yer’ having sweet dreams,” His thick accent made the words stick to his tongue, lazily drooping like honey. Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the way his heart thumped as she smiled slightly in her sleep, humming with satisfaction and cuddling closer to the pillow clutched between her arms. 

Adorable, Harry thought. 

Soft footsteps tiptoed over his bedroom, shutting the door gently. He stretched his arms to remove the black sweater over his head, ruffling his curls in the process. His nose hooked at the opening, muffling his breath for a bit that had him tumbling down on the end of his bed with a slight bounce. Harry is clumsy.

He managed to remove the rest of his clothes without further trouble, leaving him in his boxers briefs and socks which he would take off when he got situated in his office chair situated in front of his computer. His set up was on the corner of his room, facing the door. It was a bit odd at first but Harry learned to make it work. 

Harry pushed two pumps of coconut-scented lotion into his large palm, lathering his upper body with a subtle sheen, moisturizing his biceps to appear shiny. The excess cream was rubbed along the nape of his neck, massaging the tense muscles along the way. A swift glance at the time at the bottom corner informed him that he had five minutes left until his scheduled show would begin. In preparation, Harry gathered the items he might need during his session. A bottle of clear, water-based lube, a bullet vibrator that recently joined his collection of toys and a silicone cock ring that looked to be a struggle to fit around his plump dick. He set the items aside on the table in front of where he would be sitting. 

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, hands grasping the width of his hip as he opted to check on Y/N again. She was a heavy sleeper and the show will probably take around thirty minutes to do, minus the foreplay and all of that. It was still pretty early in the morning too; around ten-thirty, surely she’d stay put till then. He peeked his head through a small gap in his door, craning his neck to catch Y/N shifting just in time to rest on her other side. 

Pretty soon, the webcam displayed a green dot at the corner and his screen was loaded to a  black screen. The chat indicated that there were currently twenty people watching him. The total viewer count increased with each passing second that had Harry grinning to himself. Once the camera was adjusted to where it cut off around his neck, he sat back in his spinny chair, splaying his wide palms on his muscly thighs. 

20 seconds left.

Harry could feel his cock grow in his boxers, the anticipation of his fans commenting on dirty things that they would like to do to him left his imagination endless. A blurt of precum stained the inside of the fabric, dotting the area a darker colour. He sighed deeply, wide eyes watching as the countdown changed.

5...4...3...2...1

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of viewing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly. 

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

“How’s my baby? Are you needy for me?” He found that the best way to ensure as much of connection between his viewers was to speak as though it was a one-on-one conversation. “Because I am,” A hand crawled towards his crotch where his half-massed dick rested on his upper thigh, the head prominent against the tight briefs. 

Making sure to keep his face out of view, Harry leaned forward to read the remarks.

User12314: i love your tattoos

User48529: what i’d do to have my hands on you

He chuckled to himself, rubbing up and down to tease himself and them even more. Various 'pings' littered the room with Harry thanking each of them as much as possible. 

“I’d love to have my hands on you too,” He gave his cock a gentle squeeze, sucking a breath through his gritted teeth at the sensation. “Wanna feel your body on my skin,” Harry released a throaty groan as he shifted to pinch at his nipples, “Would ya’ let me touch your breasts? I bet they’re soft and perfect for my hands,” His thumb rubbed circles on his top two nipples, shivering slightly.

One palm cupped his balls, thumbing at the middle as the other continued the ministrations on his chest. This went on for a couple more seconds until he pulled his hands away to rest on the ferns tattooed on his hips, rubbing the skin there sensually while he spoke, “Y’wanna see my cock? It’s so hard for you,” The head twitched twice, forcing an involuntary moan to leak from his plump lips. 

User09321: yes please

He sighed at the message, his stomach burning with the need to just wrap his fingers around his dick and jerk it till he cums. But he couldn’t do that—at least not yet.

___

Y/N woke up from her slumber, dizzy and discombobulated about where she was only to realize that the ache in her lower back was caused by Harry’s uncomfortable couch. Her phone buzzed beside her; an alarm to wake up to watch a show. Not just any show—a filthy, dirty cam boy who hadn’t left Y/N’s mind ever since she discovered him for the first time a few days ago. She was drunk on wine and barely remembered what the live stream had contained. He was hot, that much she knew. 

He wore a dark red sweater that covered his body which Y/N found quite adorable. Yet at the same time, his fist peeked out from his bunched sweater paws to desperately tug at his cock while endless whispers and groans flowed from his mouth through the speakers. His covered body arching against his seat, the walls behind him a plain white. Apparently, he was feeling like a sub that day and asked permission to touch himself like a good boy, pleading to cum. His audience couldn’t resist the whine in his deep voice, shooting streams of cum on his sweater, staining the fabric and probably ruining it forever. 

Just before the live stream ended, he reminded everyone when his next show was--today-- and in her drunk daze, Y/N must have set up a reminder on her phone, completely forgetting that she was to hang out with Harry the day before. She rubbed the ball of her palm against her eyes, willing away the sleep on her lids. Sitting up on the cushion, she looked around Harry’s apartment to find the curly-headed boy. 

“Harry?” She called out, checking his kitchen to find it empty. She went to his bathroom to freshen up, picking up her toothbrush that Harry had sweetly brought her after Y/N stayed at his place more times than both of them can count. After spitting out the foam pooling in her cheeks, Y/N dabbed the corners of her mouth with a soft, fluffy towel. 

As she exited the bathroom, Y/N opened up the web browser in incognito mode, refreshing the link from a few days ago. The page loaded slowly, enabling Y/N to continue searching for Harry. She absent-mindedly walked to Harry’s closed bedroom door—the last place she had yet to look. Her phone produced a muffled sound when it finally loaded. She rapidly typed out a comment to send.

“Can’t take it anymore,” The man said, “I‘ve gotta touch myself but I’m wishing it’s you wrapping your hands around m’cock,”

Y/N could feel her thighs tighten, standing in front of Harry’s bedroom. 

Sweetgirl112: touch yourself for me daddy. i wanna hear you say how good it feels

Harry growled upon seeing the message and its user,  pulling the fabric down and letting his dick hit his skin with a faint slapping sound on his flushed stomach. Shaky fingers teased his length, tracing of the prominent veins that pumped his cock with blood. “Mm, it feels so good, love,” His thumb spread the liquid seeping at the tip, making sure to lube the head of his dick for a smooth stroke. 

With distracted thoughts, Y/N pushed the bar handle down, a gentle bump knocking the door open.  

She couldn’t believe her eyes when the loading screen on her phone mirrored the sight in front of her; Harry’s head thrown back, resting against the head of the office chair. Her phone cut off at the veins stretched over the expanse of his neck. His heaving chest glistening with sweat and the faint smell of coconut lingered in the air. His fist pumped his long cock up and down, squeezing at the tip to produce a dollop of wispy pre-cum. Closed eyes blocked his vision from Y/N standing frozen on the door, gazing back and forth towards the device on her sweaty palm to the even hotter view right in front of her.

A resonant sound of ‘pings’ pulled Harry out of his pleasure, lifting his head with the aim to thank whoever tipped him but was taken aback by the sight of his friend at his doorway.

“Oh shit,” He mumbled, impulsively clutching his full balls cradled between his fingers. Harry’s green irises were hooded, observing Y/N’s face with such intensity that it made her want to cower back. His two-front teeth grazed his bottom lip before parting his sweet mouth in a silent gasp at a particularly good stroke. ���Wanna join me, baby?”

——

Let me know what you thought!

——

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @luviewoo @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @sunguines

[sunlightdances]

Time Has Brought Your Heart to Me (Soulmate!AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, feat. platonic Steve, platonic Tony and a brief cameo by Agents of SHIELD. Rating/warnings: T (for language), mentions of PTSD and anxiety, a little angst. Many of our characters being adorably dense. Words: 14,418 (literally why am I like this) Summary: Bucky Barnes’ soul mark appeared on his left arm when he was seventeen years old. His injury and HYDRA took it from him, but does the mark have to physically exist for the connection to take hold? Author’s Note: Post-CA:CW. Assume Tony helped Steve and Bucky get out of Siberia and finds out the truth about his parents from Steve. AU after that. This idea literally came to me when I was shampooing my hair and I wrote a good chunk of it immediately afterwards. This idea has been done before, but I hope you like my take on it! Disclaimer: I don’t own Bucky Barnes, or canon elements from the movies, tv shows, or comics. All of that belongs to Marvel. Please don’t repost my work on any other sites without my permission. Reblogs are encouraged!

When Bucky Barnes is seventeen years old, a charcoal black swirl of ivy and leaves appears on his left arm.

He spent a lot of time panicking and then trying to find his soulmate, feeling disappointed almost every time he left a date with flushed cheeks and a charming smile only to remember that they didn’t have a mark, or had one that didn’t match his.

He forgot about it as soon as the war was on - bigger things to worry about then.

He enlisted because he wanted to make something of himself, but there was always the possibility burning in his mind that he might meet them. No matter what persona he tries to put on, he’s a romantic at heart. The singing under his breath, buying flowers for pretty girls, romance paperbacks in his back pocket type.

There’s no semblance of romance in war.

His days are never ending - walking, walking, brief bursts of combat. Shouting orders at his platoon, all of them trying to pretend they were feeling more courageous than they were. Still, he spares a few thoughts for his soulmate. When he takes a bullet to his shoulder in France, he hopes they can’t feel it.

He thought that was the worst it could get. He was wrong.

When he’s half conscious in the snow after falling from the train, praying for someone, anyone, to come looking for him, he feels guilt, and regret, and then doesn’t feel anything at all.

It happens in flashes - a medical exam table, a German accent, a shock to his entire body when all he does is repeat his name, rank, and serial number.

In a brief moment of lucidity, he lifts his left hand. He tries to see the mark, one more time, tries to orient himself with the one thing that’s remained constant for almost the last ten years of his life.

It isn’t there.

His arm, gone. The leafy scrawl with it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, to no one, to someone, and then it all goes black.

.

The sun streaming in the floor-to-ceiling windows of the guest room you’ve been assigned is the first thing that wakes you, followed shortly by a disembodied voice calling your name. You have a brief moment of panic, sitting upright in bed, until you remember where you are.

Avengers Tower.

“Miss?” The kind voice inquires again.

“Sorry. Yes, I’m here, sort of,” you reply, looking-- where do you look when you’re talking to an AI?

“Captain Rogers is requesting your presence in the third floor kitchen.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a half hour,” you reply.

“He said to tell you no matter your response that you have fifteen minutes.”

You scowl. “Awesome,” you mutter, swinging your legs over the side of the plush mattress. “Tell him I’ll get there when I get there, and he’ll just have to deal with it.”

FRIDAY is silent, but you suspect the message has been delivered. Yawning, you walk to the en suite bathroom and stare at yourself in the mirror. Hair? A rat’s nest. Skin? Could not look more dull. You really need to get more sleep, you think, but apparently that’s not going to start today.

Twenty minutes later, you step out of the glass elevator and into the brightly lit kitchen. There’s not many people milling about, and you discover why when you come across a clearly agitated Captain Steve Rogers at the large table, leg bouncing and chewing on the end of a pen.

“Morning,” you say when you get within earshot.

“You’re late.”

“You never told me we had an appointment,” you point out, swiping a muffin from the large plate in the middle of the table where he’s sitting, and slide into the seat across from him.

“I asked you to come here for a few days, didn’t I?” He looks up, revealing dark circles and day-old stubble. He’s got a pile of papers on the table in front of him, and a cup of half-drank coffee off to one side.

You hum in agreement, “And you’ve been very secretive about it all. Barely gave me time to pack a bag.” A wink, so he knows you’re (mostly) joking. “Not very gentlemanly, Captain.”

“Bucky’s arriving today.” He blurts, and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Steve--” You breathe, suddenly understanding his nervousness.

“I sent Sam to get him a week ago, if he even wanted to come back to New York.” He smiles, but it’s weak. “Figured it might do some good to have someone… non-partial around.”

“This is…” You shake your head, “Wow, Steve. This is good, right?”

He exhales. “It’s-- yeah. More than good.” He meets your eyes, “I need you to give him a physical, just a regular check up. Protocol.”

You’re already nodding. “I’ll get the lab set up, although are you sure you don’t want Dr. Cho--”

“I want it to be you,” Steve explains, “You’re-- well, I think he’d like you, that’s all.” You must be blushing because he quickly backtracks. “I just mean that you’re a friend! My friend. He’ll trust you because I do.”

“Jeepers, Steve,” you tease, “Getting my heart all aflutter.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay. I’ll have FRIDAY let you know when he’s settled? Don’t want to overwhelm him.”

You nod. “I get it. Just let me know.” Impulsively, you get out of your chair and hug Steve from behind, sort of wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I’m really happy for you.”

He squeezes your hands, a long breath leaving him like he’s been holding it for awhile. “Thank you.”

It’s hours before you’re summoned, and you feel strangely nervous. You don’t really know what to expect. Sure, as trauma-nurse turned Avengers in-house care, you obviously know who Bucky Barnes is, and what he means to Steve Rogers. You were beginning to think you’d never meet him, though.

You follow voices until you get to your “office”, which is really just an open-air lab not dissimilar to the one Dr. Banner has for himself down the hall. Yours is less tech-savvy, though. You have office hours like any other doctor, and typically don’t live at the Tower unless a mission is wrapping up, or you’re on call.

You semi-retired after everything went down with SHIELD, but had been part of Steve’s team there, so you’re sort of contracting for the Avengers whenever things are scary enough that they need a full time physician.

Turning a corner, you see the back of Steve’s head as he sits in a chair across from the imposing figure that must be James Barnes.

You clear your throat and try to make your footsteps a little louder so you don’t interrupt them, but then remember they’re both super soldiers. They definitely have already heard you coming.

Steve greets you by name and introduces you to Bucky, who surprises you with a quick smile and a handshake.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, his voice somehow gruff and gentle all at the same time.

“You too,” you say. “Steve’s filled me in on the basics, but this is just a physical so we have your information on file. Nothing invasive, no needles, and nothing gets touched unless you say so, okay?”

He looks like he wants to smirk at your wording, but you can tell he’s a little tense and nervous too. You’ve thought about what to say to him and how to do this exam. You know he’s spent most of his life doing things without his consent, including receiving whatever poor medical care he was given.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and hops up on the exam table when you ask him to.

The entire exam only takes about ten minutes, until the only thing you have left to ask about is the arm. You sneak a glance at Steve, who’s chewing on his bottom lip. He gives you a small nod, so you take a deep breath and turn back to Bucky.

“I have to ask you a few questions about this.” You tell him, gesturing towards his left arm.

He flinches, barely noticeable if you weren’t standing right in front of him. “What do you want to know?” He leans in, voice conspiratorial, and whispers, “This isn’t my real arm.”

You’re momentarily stunned, but a breathless laugh escapes. Okay. Maybe this isn’t going to be as awful as you worried it might be, for him or for you.

.

Later, you’re in the kitchen with Steve and Sam, a glass of wine in front of each of you as you pick at your dinner. The rest of the Avengers are on a small mission, Falcon and Cap staying behind to look after the newest member of their team.

They don’t say it, but they’re worried.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY interrupts, “Sergeant Barnes is experiencing some distress.”

The three of you stand, but Steve waves you off. “It’s a nightmare,” he says. “I’ll take care of it.” He takes a few steps and stops, not turning around. “FRIDAY will let you know if I need help.”

Sam’s face is tight with worry when he sits back down with you.

“What’s your take on this, Sam?” You ask, “Really. Honest assessment.”

“I think he needs help,” Sam says, and for a second you’re not sure if he means Steve, or Bucky. “He’s been through a lot. He’s a lot better physically, and some mentally, too. But there’s still-- it’s PTSD. He’s been a combat soldier for 70 years of his life, a POW. You can’t recover from that in a few months or even a few years.”

“I’ll try to help if I can,” you reassure him. “If he’ll let me.”

Sam stands up to leave, probably to check on Steve. He squeezes your shoulder as he walks behind you. “I know you will. Thanks, kid.”

You don’t respond, not even to dispute him acting like he’s so much older than you. Your brain is too busy trying to figure out what to do next.

.

The next few weeks go by in a similar fashion. You take up semi-permanent residence at the Tower.

Bucky sticks to his room a lot, though you see him sparring with Steve or hanging out with Sam in the common room a few times.

He doesn’t seek you out, and you don’t bother him except for subtly asking FRIDAY to let you know if he’s experiencing any distress that requires medical attention.

Now, you’re in the kitchen with Steve, eating at the large island and watching him warily. “Steve. You’re pacing.”

“I know I’m pacing.”

You set your fork down. “Why are you pacing?”

“I’m taking Bucky to Brooklyn today.”

You blink, eyes wide. “Whoa. That’s-- wow, that’s great! Was it your idea, or--”

“It was his, actually.” Steve stops pacing long enough to meet your eyes. “I’m a little worried it might be too much once we get there. Once he sees how much has changed…” He trails off. “I remember when I first went back. It was too much all at once.”

“Can I offer you some non-professional advice? As a friend?”

Steve still looks wary, but he nods.

“You gotta have a little faith in him, Steve. He’s been through a lot, yes. You’re still learning who he is right now. But he was in Wakanda for a year. Recovering only half of that time. He’s had time to catch up, to figure out how to be a person with agency. If he says he wants to do this, he probably does. You have to trust him.”

A movement from the doorway catches your attention and you flush when you see Bucky come into the kitchen slowly, looking a little sheepish. Damn these supersoldiers and their stealth. “Uh-- sorry to interrupt. Bad time?”

Steve smiles, though it’s a little shaky. “No, just talking to Doc here about coming with us to Brooklyn today.”

Your eyes widen as you whip around to face Steve, who sends you a pleading look quickly before Bucky sees him.

“Oh.” Bucky looks a little disappointed, but you don’t take it personally.

“I don’t want to intrude,” you say, “I know you had plans with Steve,”

Bucky waves a hand, “No, it’s fine, really. Could probably use someone around to make sure we don’t kill each other.”

You and Steve both freeze, and Bucky looks back and forth between you. “That was a joke.”

You’re the first to smile, and you’re doing it mostly for Bucky’s benefit, but also in hopes that Steve will relax a little bit. You know it’s not healthy for him to be this worried all the time. You also know that Bucky will never truly be at ease if Steve doesn’t start treating him like his friend again.

“I guess if I’m going to get a tour, I couldn’t ask for better guides,” you say, heading out to grab a jacket and your wallet.

A half hour later, you’re getting off the subway and heading into one of Brooklyn’s old neighborhoods. Bucky appears outwardly calm, but you could see how tense he was when you were on the train, and the way his eyes darted around cooly, mapping out all the entrances and exits. It’s the same thing you see Sam and Steve do, maybe more subtly, when you go out with them.

They all do it, really. The Avengers are battle weary already, and you wish you could give that sense of calm back to them.

“I’m going to grab a coffee,” you tell Steve and Bucky as you mill about on the street. You get the idea that neither of them has thought this through very much - they don’t really know where to go first. “Do you want anything?”

“Two black coffees. Is that okay?” Steve says, looking at Bucky.

“Add a little sugar to Steve’s. He won’t complain but he’ll make a face every time he takes a drink.” Bucky says, and you snort.

“Good to know.”

Five minutes later, you’re interrupting what looks like a serious conversation between the two men with a cautious smile, and with Steve scrambling to grab the coffee carrier out of your hands before you have to juggle three cups.

“Where to?” You ask once they’re both happily sipping hot coffee, Bucky only looking mildly uncomfortable.

“I don’t really know,” Bucky admits. “Guessing our old building isn’t there anymore?”

Steve smiles. “It is, actually. We can go there first if you want.”

You follow behind them on the sidewalk as they reminisce about places they used to go, people they used to know. It’s not sad, more nostalgic, and you’re content to listen to them talk as you sip your coffee.

Bucky shoves Steve lightly as he starts to point out all the places he used to get beat up. “That alley,” Steve points, “and behind that butcher shop--”

“I think she gets it.”

You laugh, “Tony should make landmark signs. We can put them in all your favorite places,” you tease, and Steve glares.

“You’re hilarious.”

You pull on his arm when Bucky suddenly stops right in front of him, keeping Steve from plowing straight into his friend’s back. You feel the mood shift and know this must be the place.

Bucky rubs at his jaw thoughtfully. “Huh. Smaller than I remember.” His voice is a little less confident than it was this morning. You stare at the building with him, trying to picture what it might have looked like decades ago. “This place was a shithole when we lived here--”

“Bucky!” Steve exclaims, but he’s laughing too, turning to face his friend almost for the first time all day. You’re giggling too, and Bucky shakes his head, his smile a little smaller, but still there.

“What? We were poor.” He shuffles his feet a little. “I loved it here. No better place than that apartment.” He inhales sharply before meeting Steve’s gaze, “Wait, no one-- we don’t know anyone who still--”

“No,” Steve says quietly, carefully. “No one we know still lives here. I checked when I first got out of the ice.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t-- I don’t want to know about them yet. Any of them.”

You assume he’s talking about his family, and whoever might still be alive. You feel like you’re intruding on a private conversation, so you busy yourself taking a few photos for your Instagram -- you’re not too shy to admit that this neighborhood is lovely. Old brick buildings and shops with lots of flowers blooming.

(And if you sneak a photo that has the back of Bucky and Steve standing there, shoulder to shoulder… well that’s nobody’s business)

In hindsight, you and Steve should have seen this night coming. The memories prove to be too much for Bucky, and the entire floor nearly shakes over your head when he has an episode in the middle of the night, spurred by nightmares and twisted memories of his family.

Footsteps speed by your doorway and you hear FRIDAY asking you to stay in your room, but you don’t listen. You’re too worried, despite the racing of your heart telling you that this is a bad idea.

You open the door just in time to see Steve sprinting down the hall towards the stairs. He must hear your door (or your heart, you think idly), because he turns to you. An authoritative, “No,” is all you get from him before he’s gone, apparently taking the stairs four at a time.

Not content to be left on the sidelines, you head downstairs to the lab, pausing just long enough to throw your hair into a bun and slip your glasses on, grabbing a sweatshirt off a hook by your door. You have no idea if you’ll be seeing Bucky tonight, but you want to be prepared just in case, even though you think Bruce and Dr. Cho are going to take the lead on his care while he’s here.

Forty-five minutes go by before you hear footsteps, and Steve and Bucky come trudging in. Steve has a black eye, and Bucky seems content to stare at his own feet.

“Steve--” You’re about to ask him to let you look at the bruising, but he holds up a hand to stop you. You’re suddenly filled with dread, wondering if Bucky is wholly himself, but you find it hard to believe Steve would have brought him down here at all if he wasn’t.

“I’m fine.” He smiles at you weakly, “Can you…” He trails off, looking at his best friend.

“I need something to help me sleep.” Bucky finishes, voice rough. “Preferably without dreams.”

You pause, “I can’t guarantee anything,” you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, “But I can try.”

“Thanks.” Steve sounds exhausted, but Bucky looks worse.

“Can I have a minute alone?” You ask Bucky, but the question is really for Steve. Bucky tenses, and you rush to clarify, “Just want to chat about how we can help you get better sleep. Figured you might be more comfortable without an audience, but Steve can stay if you want him to.”

The two men have a silent conversation before Steve nods, reaching for your hand to give it a squeeze before he leaves you and Bucky alone.

It’s a few minutes before Bucky relaxes enough to talk. You busy yourself taking his vitals even though you know you could just ask FRIDAY to give you the rundown. It gives you something manual to do, so you don’t have to just stand in front of him.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

You look up in surprise. “Me? No, I-- you--”

“I know it-- I woke you up.”

You shake your head. “I was awake anyway.”

Bucky cocks his head in question, so you keep talking.

“I have a hard time sleeping. Did Steve tell you much about me? What I did-- before?”

“He said you’re a nurse.”

You nod. “I was a trauma nurse at a hospital nearby. That’s how Steve and I met.” You hesitate before the next part, but you feel like he’ll handle it okay. “I was working the day SHIELD fell. When he was brought in, I was in the ER.”

Bucky meets your eyes, and you can see the guilt swimming there.

You smile, “Turns out a nurse isn’t super necessary for a super soldier.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I suppose not.”

“My job mostly turned into babysitting. He kept trying to leave before he was fully healed, and we really had no idea how long he was going to be there. None of the rules applied to him, and he was way more focused on getting out to look for you.”

Bucky looks down, gunmetal hand whirring slightly as he fiddles with it. “Sounds like Steve.”

“Anyway, after I managed to put up with Steve and Sam for a whole two weeks,” you wink at Bucky, “Steve offered me a job. Thought they could use a medic around. I’d been wanting to get out of the hospital anyway. Some days were… hard.” You try your best not to let the memories get the better of you. “Turns out Bruce is a great doctor but not when he’s-- the other guy.”

Bucky nods, seemingly finding his resolve. He takes a deep breath, “I thought I could handle today. I felt good when we were there. Like I could almost forget--” he waves his hand around vaguely. “You know.”

You nod slowly. “In my experience, recovery isn’t always a straight line.”

Bucky is quiet, but you take that as a signal to keep going.

“I definitely still have days where I can’t see the lights of an ambulance without my heart rate speeding up. I have nightmares, and sometimes when the team is gone on a mission, I’m so anxious thinking about what’s happening to them I can barely breathe.” You force yourself to keep talking, “And then there’s some days where I’m calm. I can handle it, and I feel fine.”

You look up at him so you can look directly into his eyes. He’s already looking at you, and for a second, you feel a zip of awareness hit you in your gut.

“I’ve got something for you. It’ll help you sleep, but it’s really strong.” Quieter, you add, “Don’t tell Steve, but Bruce and Tony developed this for him years ago. He won’t ever admit to having nights like you’ve had. This seemed to help him.” You reach over on the table for a pill bottle and press it into Bucky’s palm. “Read the directions. Don’t take more than one.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. “Thank you.”

After a brief awkward moment, he leaves the room, and you can hear his quiet footsteps down the hall until the ding of the elevator signals him going back upstairs.

A few moments later, Steve is in your line of vision, and he doesn’t say anything, just gives you this look and it completely breaks your heart.

Wordlessly, you hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers, and he takes it willingly, threading your fingers together. Pulling him close, you stand shoulder to shoulder with the super soldier, squeezing his hand in reassurance as you both pull your thoughts together.

“I knew this was going to be hard,” he says, voice low. “I just didn’t-- I hate seeing him in pain and not being able to do anything about it.”

“I know, Steve.” You don’t have any answers, so you don’t try to give him one. “You need to try to rest.” You tell him instead.

“So do you,” he replies stubbornly.

“One day at a time, Steve.” You remind him.

“Yeah.” He sighs, wiping his free hand over his face. “Yeah, I know.”

When you get to your bedroom that night, you’re exhausted. It’s quiet above you, and you keep replaying the night’s events over and over.

Out of everything, one moment stands out to you - that potent moment of eye contact with Bucky Barnes. You can still feel the electricity crackling through you as you remember it.

That can’t be good.

.

“Any time, Cap,” Tony’s voice, out of breath, comes through the comms. You’re watching anxiously from your lab in the Tower, wondering again how you got roped into this.

“I’m busy,” Steve replies haughtily, and you hear the sound of two bodies hitting the floor. “On my way.”

The sound of fighting rings out, and you try to subtly eye the man next to you, his posture similar to yours - arms crossed, brow furrowed.

“Do they always argue this much on a mission?” Bucky wonders aloud, and you snort.

“I’ve only been involved in a few, but in my experience: yes.”

The mission is otherwise pretty smooth - Steve and Tony are more than capable of handling a few rogue Hydra thugs on their own, and you’re relieved when Tony lets you know over the comms that they’re headed back, objective complete.

You glance at Bucky next to you, who still stares at the screens.

“This must be a little overwhelming…” you start, not really sure how much you should press.

He shrugs. “Just different. The last time I planned any type of mission I was in olive drab and all I ever had to do was say yes, sir.”

You’re still surprised with how candid he’s being, willingly offering up details about his past, those he can remember, at least.

“Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers have docked.” FRIDAY’s voice interrupts your musing, and you nod at Bucky, who leaves the room to go meet them. He brushes past you, and you feel another zip of awareness when he does, shaking your head to get rid of the feeling.

He’s your patient. You absolutely cannot, will not allow yourself to feel anything other than a clinical attraction to the man. He deserves better than that, and you can’t afford to be distracted, not when he needs your help and is depending on you to get better.

Just earlier that day, you sat down with Steve and Tony for a quick briefing to better plan for the days ahead in terms of Bucky’s recovery and his place with the team.

Steve is tense, rightly so, and Tony is firm, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark as he looks at the files in front of the three of you.

“You’re saying there’s no way to know if the trigger words are actually deactivated.” Tony asks, though it’s not really phrased as a question.

“I’m saying there might be other triggers. Not just the words, though Shuri insists those are moot. He’s got PTSD, Tony.”

“Yeah, well. Join the club.” Tony mutters, looking out the window. You can’t imagine how difficult this is for him. You know as well as everyone else does that Barnes was responsible for the Starks’ deaths. You’re surprised Tony okayed Bucky’s arrival here at all, though he does have a heart. He knows Bucky was brainwashed, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Steve doesn’t say anything. You get the idea he’s worried to say the wrong thing -- he admitted to you once that he’s obviously biased where Bucky’s concerned. He doesn’t know how to be Bucky’s ally and Tony’s friend at the same time.

“All this is, is a plan for if the worst happens.” You hold up your hand quickly, stopping Steve before he responds, “I’m not saying we’ll ever have to use this, but we have evacuation plans for everything else, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be prepared for him to relapse. Even if the Soldier is out of his head, there’s still a chance his memories will get the best of him and he’ll have an episode.” You say the last part quietly, meeting Steve’s concerned gaze.

“We don’t even know if he’s going to want to have anything to do with the Avengers,” he acknowledges. “After all this time… for all I know he wants to lay low.”

Tony nods. “If he does… we won’t have him on any field missions until we’re sure he can handle it. Until then he stays here, helps Hill with the comms and he can…” Tony gestures wildly, “I don’t know, be strategic backup or something.”

That option had proved to be more than okay with Bucky, though he acknowledged he didn’t really have any say in the matter. He just wanted to be useful.

In the weeks that follow, he fills in for Maria Hill when she’s called away for other Stark Industries work, and takes to running the team like he was born to do it.

“It’s the squad leader in me,” he tells you one day, a grin on his face. “Though the lot of you are a lot easier to deal with than Army brats.”

He even helps Steve train some new recruits when the opportunity presents itself. Overall, his recovery is on track to be even shorter than you expected. Sure, there are still moments where he loses himself in a memory or has to be shaken awake in the middle of the night when things get to be too much. But you know every single other person in the Tower struggles that way too.

You’re mostly enjoying getting to know James Barnes the person, and not The Winter Soldier, the enigma, even if it is getting harder and harder to ignore the butterflies that take flight in your stomach every time he enters a room you’re in.

You’re killing time in the lab when Tony saunters in, startling you with his Iron Man gear half-on.

“What are you doing?”

“Need a hand,” he says, drawing out the word as he waves at you, thruster firmly in place on his left hand.

“Terrible.” You mutter. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just miscalculated the power of the new thruster and sort of… fused it to my hand.” He says the last part quickly, and you blink at him.

“I’m sorry. I heard that wrong.”

He grins cheerily. “Nothing wrong with your ears! Now--” He claps his hands together with a metallic clang, “-- You got anything for burns?”

Bucky wanders in sometime after you’ve finally gotten Tony to sit down. He watches warily, stopping before entering the room completely, a little curious. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” he says quietly, “but what the fuck is going on?”

Even Tony smiles at that, Bucky’s blunt tone a sure sign he’s had a decent day, as far as moods go. “Experimentation gone wrong,” he says brightly. “Doc’ll get me sorted.”

You glare at him. “I’m not a surgeon. Stop giving me surgeons’ work to do.”

You’re gently trying to pull the round piece of metal from Tony’s palm without completely frying his nerves. Coincidentally, the entire thing is destroying your own nerves in the process.

“Need a hand?” Bucky asks, pulling up a stool.

Tony snorts. “That’s what I said.”

You’re very aware of the heat emanating from Bucky’s side as he watches you work. Normally you wouldn’t let someone this close while you’re essentially performing surgery, but you think idly that it might be a good idea to have a third party here in case Tony starts complaining that you’re trying to butcher him.

“What I need--” you say through grit teeth, “-- is for both of you to shut up and let me work.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky says with a smile.

Tony raises his eyebrows in delight at the exchange, but you ignore him.

“Hold still,” you murmur after a few minutes, and when you glance up, relieved that there’s quiet finally, you see a few beads of sweat on Tony’s brow. He’s frowning at his own hand, and you think he’s finally starting to grasp how serious this could have been. “Honestly--” You huff, “Now you’re getting squeamish?”

“I didn’t think about the part where you’d actually have to yank it off,” Tony says defensively.

“I’ve got as much of the metal out as I can, so hopefully I can just…” you mime ripping it off with your free hand.

His eyes widen. “No you will not.”

Bucky sits back, arms folded across his chest with an amused grin at the billionaire.

“There’s nothing for it, Tony. Like a bandaid.”

“Can’t be worse than when I had to give myself stitches in the middle of the woods in Belgium with some dental floss,” Bucky says off-handedly, and both you and Tony stare at him, mouths agape.

“This is the twenty-first century!” Tony protests, gritting his teeth, “This isn’t the fucking Battle of the Bulge, Grandpa!”

“And, three.” You say with finality, lifting the remnants of the Iron glove off Tony’s palm, having used his outrage at Bucky’s bad attempt at bedside manner as a distraction to do the hard part. “Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” You say primly as he hands you a piece of gauze that had been waiting nearby.

“Devious.” Tony remarks as you wrap his palm. “What’s the damage?”

“You need to keep it clean or it’ll get infected. No more experimenting.”

You let Tony go with the promise - or threat - to tell Pepper about this, and then it’s just you and Bucky there as you clean up.

“Does that happen often?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, “More often than I’d like. He thinks he’s invincible.”

The corners of Bucky’s mouth tilt up. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

You’re momentarily fascinated by how much younger he looks when he smiles, but you force yourself to look away and go back to cleaning up the tray you had supplies on. “Did you need anything?” You ask, remembering how he wandered in on his own nearly an hour ago.

He flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “Just some company.” He admits.

It sends a thrill through you.

“It’s nice to talk to someone who has no idea who I am. Or who I’m supposed to be.” He says, the last part barely a whisper.

You feel so much for him at this moment. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and still, the man manages to crack jokes whenever he can, and is, on the outside, not completely overwhelmed with being in a new place, finally in his own head.

“I think I’ll head back to bed.” He says, a small smile on his face. “This was… interesting.” He grins. On his way past you to the door, he reaches out briefly and squeezes your free hand. You think he might not even realize he’s done it.

You almost drop the tools in your hand when you realize what’s happened -- the mark on your arm, the one you try so diligently to cover up, is burning.

“Oh, shit.” You murmur to yourself.

.

You avoid Bucky for weeks after that. You see him in a strictly professional capacity, and you feel like the biggest bitch on the planet for it, but you have no idea what to do with yourself.

After he left you in the lab that night, you inspected your well-hidden mark, trying to figure out why it was suddenly coming to life after years. It was a dull pink color, like you’d been rubbing at it, and even though you refused to accept it, you knew deep down what that meant.

You have no one to ask about it. No one at all.

Soul marks are rare, and they’re rarer still among the bunch you live with. Steve doesn’t have a mark, nor does Sam. You don’t feel like putting up with the shit you’ll get from Tony or Pepper if you try to ask them about theirs.

You’ve read enough about the bond to recognize it for what it is, but your brain is still stuck on one fact - Bucky Barnes doesn’t have a mark. Not that you’ve seen, and not that he’s mentioned.

It occurs to you then that the worst case could be true - you could be his, but he might not be yours. What a nightmare. As if he doesn’t have enough to deal with after quite literally coming back to life. Throwing an unreciprocated soulmate into the mix? No. You won’t do it.

So you avoid him.

You even go out of your way to liaison with the new SHIELD for two weeks, as part of a new partnership Steve and Tony were reluctantly part of with the recently-still-alive Phil Coulson.

“Are you sure you want to go? They have a doctor.” Steve asks as he carries your duffel to the dock as you await the arrival of SHIELD’s quinjet.

“They have a scientist,” you remind him. “They wouldn’t have asked for help if they really didn’t need it.”

Steve scowls, still a little perturbed that a man he considered a friend couldn’t even let them know he was alive, let alone that he was resurrecting SHIELD.

“We need to know what they’re working on, anyway.” You say. “Plus, it’s good networking.”

Steve shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Still. What if--” He stops himself, looking away as you reach the hangar. “What if we need you?”

“Then you’ll call, and I’ll have them fly me back.”

You hear what he’s really asking - what if Bucky needs you? You considered it. But you think you need the distance more than being around and avoiding him. He hasn’t needed you in any urgent way in weeks, anyway.

“Fine. But make sure Coulson knows he’s still on my shit list.”

“Steve Rogers!” You gasp. “He’ll be broken-hearted to hear that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but you’re interrupted by incoming engines, and watch as the quinjet flies smoothly into the hangar.

You’re surprised at how young the team is. Not much younger than you, sure, but still. They’re watching Steve with something like awe in their eyes.

“Captain Rogers.” Coulson says, descending the ramp and holding out his hand tentatively. “It’s good to see you.” He’s sincere, that much is obvious.

“Coulson.” Steve’s tone is curt, but he shakes the man’s hand anyway.

After an awkward pause, Steve turns to you, introducing you.

“This is Agent May, Fitz, Simmons, and Daisy.” Coulson says, and you smile at each member in turn. “We’re looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You grin at him. It seems impossible to be anything less than genial with Phil Coulson, though Steve is doing his best to prove otherwise, and Tony hasn’t even bothered to leave his office to greet the new arrivals.

“I’ll bring her back in one piece.” Phil tells Steve.

“The alternative isn’t an option.” Steve replies, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough. Bye, Steve. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

His expression softens, and you know he’s just being protective in that big-brotherly way of his.

As you’re boarding the jet, you see movement out of the corner of your eye, and see Bucky back in the shadows, leaning against the wall as he watches you leave. You bite your lip in frustration, knowing that leaving after ignoring him is a cowardly move. Still, it’s the only option you can think of while you try to sort this out.

After taking off, Phil turns to you.

“He hates me, doesn’t he.” There’s something like despair in his voice.

You sigh. “They thought you were dead.”

“Technically I was.”

He fills you in on the whole story as you fly to their base, and when you land, you take the first minute you can to get Jemma Simmons alone.

“I was hoping you could tell me more about soul marks. I know you’ve done some research--”

She smiles at you, putting you at ease. “What questions do you have?”

.

Bucky watches the jet take off, a hollow feeling in his chest. He can’t figure out what he did to drive you away so thoroughly.

Steve stands there with his arms crossed for a few minutes before turning back, shaking his head.

“You trust them?” Bucky asks, and Steve pauses.

“I do.” He sighs, then looks at his friend. “Are you worried?”

Bucky scoffs. “Am I worried that she ignored me for two weeks and then fucked off with a bunch of people I don’t know?”

Steve’s grin is slow, lazy. “Careful, Buck. Sounding awfully protective.”

Bucky scowls. “Shut up.”

One thing that has absolutely not changed since the 40s is Steve’s propensity to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong, and lately that’s been evident in the way he’s been trying to needle out what exactly Bucky is feeling for the good doctor.

He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

She’s-- smart. She’s smart and she’s funny, and she’s beautiful, but it’s not like he would ever act on it. She’s his doctor. Probably the closest thing to a best friend Steve has. Bucky’s not going to fuck that up just because he’s noticed that she smells like vanilla and when the sun hits her face just right-- well. He’s not going to fuck it up.

Besides, he clearly made her uncomfortable when he told her it was nice to be around her. That she understood him, in some way that Steve didn’t. That clearly freaked her out.

He would laugh if it wasn’t happening to him. Scared a woman away so thoroughly that she literally got on a jet and took off.

He sighs and follows Steve back to the common area where a few of the others are lingering. They want a report on SHIELD, no doubt.

Bucky is going to do some digging of his own. SHIELD, for obvious reasons, has left the taste of ash in his mouth, and he’ll never forgive himself if it turns out that they’re some kind of HYDRA cell using a familiar face to get close to the Avengers again.

Not to mention his favorite doctor would be caught in the middle of it, and he can’t have that.

He feels… he feels good. It’s unfamiliar. But really, minor episodes and nightmares aside, he feels more like himself than he has in decades. There were brief moments when he was lucid enough in Hydra to remember who he was and where he was, but he thinks being brainwashed was… not a blessing, he’s not stupid enough to consider it that, but the alternative… having to be himself while he did those things… it would have killed him.

Now, he finally has choices.

His first choice was deciding to accept Steve’s help and friendship, and his second choice was to trust you.

He thinks that should mean something.

He thinks back to a moment from a few weeks back, shortly after the Brooklyn trip. You didn’t treat him like he was broken, and he appreciated it more than he could say. So much so that he invited you back to Brooklyn with him, to one of his favorite diners from when he was growing up.

He’s so happy to see it still exists that he can’t wait to have a meal there. Steve is busy, and you just-- the way you smile at him when he asks you to go, he knows he’s made the right call.

“James Barnes?” The older woman at the counter looks like she’s seen a ghost.

“That’s me,” he says, trying to smile. He has no idea how people are going to react to him wherever he goes.

“I’ll be damned,” she whispers. “My grandmother… she used to tell me stories about you and Captain Rogers.”

He smiles. “Good ones, I hope?”

“Only good ones. My grandmother was Ruth Kelley.”

The name fires some synapse in Bucky’s brain that hasn’t been used in years. Suddenly he’s nineteen, sharing a malt with Ruthie at the counter while she was on her lunch break, trying to pretend he’s not pulling out all the stops to make her laugh.

“You look just like her,” he stutters, and she does - the same eyes, the same kind smile.

“Thank you.” She whispers. “Anything you want, on the house today.”

Bucky tries to protest, but you stop him.

“Let her do this for you,” you say quietly.

Bucky nods and the two of you sit in a booth, his mind still working overtime trying to believe that all the pieces of his life could come full circle like this.

“An old flame?” You ask, lifting a mug of coffee to your lips, and Bucky finds himself entranced by the playful look on your face.

“Something like that.” He murmurs. “She grew up in the same building as Steve and I. Used to come bother her while she worked. That family was the best. They’d give us free slices of pie every so often…” He trails off. “Never saw her again before I shipped out.”

You’re quiet, a look on your face he can’t identify. “You must have meant a lot to her. If she told her granddaughter about you.”

He turns to watch Ruth’s granddaughter busy herself behind the counter, her movements so similar to Ruth’s that for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry too.

On the way back to the Tower, you loop your arm through his, so casually, the touch coming so easy for you, it throws Bucky for a loop. It’s not unwelcome - you’re warm through your jacket, and Bucky hasn’t realized how much he missed human contact until this moment.

He thinks it should be concerning, how quickly you’re inserting yourself in his life. He tells himself it’s purely professional, but he knows it’s a lie.

The annoyingly knowing looks he’s been getting from Steve and Sam seem to suggest that too, not to mention the not-so-subtle threatening from Tony.

He’s drawn to you, and it scares him a little, while at the same time it feels like it’s just… right. He tried to surreptitiously get a look at your left arm the first time he thought… but to no avail. He hadn’t seen a mark. Certainly not one like he remembers, not one that he hoped to see, as fleeting as the thought had been at the time. But he told himself it didn’t matter. His own parents weren’t soulmates, but they loved each other.

Peggy and Steve didn’t have marks either, but they loved each other til the end. It doesn’t matter. Although, truth be told, it won’t matter at all if you stop talking to him completely.

Trying to get his mind off you, he seeks out his friends, finding them in the common area. No sooner has he made himself comfortable on the couch next to Sam then there’s an alarm blaring somewhere, and all his senses fire to life.

Steve is on his feet immediately, as is Tony, tapping away at his tablet as he tries to figure out what’s wrong.

“Steve?” Sam asks, body rigid.

“Suit up,” Steve says immediately. “Tony and I will do threat assessment.”

“Already done,” Tony chirps. “Fun - intruders!”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he’s already moving, striding towards the doors to the command center and sliding a headset on his head - he feels more at home here than he thought he would.

“Check in when you’ve got comms,” he says distractedly, tapping away at the screen in front of him until he pulls up a couple cameras of the lower floors.

He spares a thought to be grateful that you’re not here right now, as he watches a team of men in black bust through the doors to the lab. “Lower two floors. I count eight, maybe ten operatives.”

“On it,” Steve says in his ear, and Bucky watches as his friend skips the elevator and instead launches himself down over the railing.

“Idiot.” He mutters.

“I can hear you.”

He smirks. “Tony, there’s a few more on the outside trying to get in,” he confirms, hearing the now-familiar sound of thrusters as Tony takes off from the launchpad outside the penthouse.

“More company incoming,” Tony replies, and Bucky can hear the sound of an engine through the comms.

Gunfire suddenly erupts almost directly outside the room Bucky’s in, the reinforced glass holding, but Bucky still throws his metal arm above his head and ducks out of instinct.

He knows this is Hydra. This was bound to happen, with Bucky living here. The Asset would never be allowed to live with everything he knows.

Bucky grimaces. “I’m going to need to get to the armory.”

Sam’s voice is next, “Negative, big guy. You’re going to stay right where you are, or else no one else has eyes on us.”

“Seconded.” Steve says firmly.

“I’m kind of a sitting duck up here.” Bucky protests. “This is seventy years of sniper training going to waste,” he adds, and Steve audibly sighs in his ear.

“Take an MG, that’s it.” He says, and Bucky snorts.

“You think I’d try to grab an alien gun? I’m not as stupid as you remember.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply as he heads out the door, eyes scanning this way and that for any potential threats. He hears the fight going on a few floors below, but so far he’s in the clear, and he heads towards the hangar where he can slip in a back entrance to the armory (hopefully) undetected.

“Two headed to you, Buck.” Steve says, sounding out of breath.

“Copy that.” Bucky says, steeling himself for the inevitable fight. He lets himself feel exhausted for approximately one second before he gets to work - his training taking over like he’s on autopilot.

He makes it to the armory door before he’s jumped from behind, though he heard them coming. He knows he can’t let them get inside. He uses their momentum to propel himself forward, flinging one man off his back and sending him careening into the opposite wall.

His other hand rears back out of instinct, delivering a sickening blow to the second man’s face.

Warily, he watches the first man struggle to his feet, a sneer on his face. “Longing.” He says, and Bucky sees red, though not for the reason he suspects the man hopes. “Rusted.”

Bucky pulls back with his metal arm, and delivers one solid punch. “Eat shit.”

Steve comes skidding around the corner a moment or two later, watching the scene in front of him. He clearly heard what the man was trying to do over comms - his face is a mixture of terror and concern.

“Bucky?”

“It’s still me, Steve.”

“Just checking.” He steps over the two men on the floor. “Didn’t need the MG after all?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Bucky reaches down, straightening the man’s jacket so he can see the insignia for himself. He sighs. “Not going for stealth these days.”

“They’re done fighting in the shadows, or whatever.” Steve replies with a roll of his eyes. “We’ll get them all to lockup - Tony’s got the rest on the roof.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is going to keep happening. As long as I’m here. You know that, right?”

Steve’s face hardens. “Then we’ll keep fighting them. They’re not going to take you again.” The fierceness in his voice makes Bucky want to weep. This is the Steve he remembers.

He helps get the Hydra agents rounded up with the rest of the team, and then retreats to his bedroom. He feels exhausted, even though he didn’t have to do much - even the fight itself wasn’t as awful as it could have been.

He’s just tired of being hunted. He just wants to-- he doesn’t know, really. Be free? It sounds so trite. But he’s got a chance at a better life now, and he’s not going to let anyone take that away from him. Not Hydra, not whoever they decide to send after him next.

That night he has another nightmare, but this time, it’s about you. The look on your face after you see him in action - it sends you even further away from him, and Bucky knows he’ll never get you back, not after this. Not after you’ve seen the Soldier.

When he startles awake, the shame burning in his chest is a living, breathing thing.

He realizes then what you mean to him, or what you could if given the chance.

It doesn’t scare him as much as it should.

.

Jemma Simmons is infinitely patient as she explains the research about soul marks to you. It helps that she has a soulmate of her own, one who has a reciprocating mark.

It doesn’t do a thing to quell your guilt about Bucky, though. You still feel like you’d be trapping him into something. He’s never had much of a choice about anything in his life before, and you don’t want to take this away from him, too.

Trying to distract yourself, you throw yourself into research and analysis with Fitz and Simmons. In the few days you’ve been with SHIELD, you’ve helped them learn more about Daisy’s power and biology, your experience working with Avengers helpful as they try to catalog what she can do and what her limits are.

You plan to head back to Avengers Tower by the end of the week, and head to bed that night feeling like the time away from everything was just what you needed, even if you do have two letters to Steve from Phil in your bag that you’re almost certainly not going to give him.

The man is desperate for his apology to be accepted by his hero.

You’re asleep nearly the minute your head hits the pillow.

Annoyingly, you dream of Bucky. It’s not the dream you’ve had before - holding hands at the diner, or making some grand declaration. This is… darker. More real. It scares you.

Someone is hauling Bucky out of the Tower, and Bucky is nearly incapacitated. Drugged or… worse. You feel a shudder run through you as you watch him smuggled out in the dead of night, knowing there’s nothing you can do to help.

You wake with a gasp, and when you pull up your left sleeve, the mark on your arm is an angry red.

Panic slides through you like ice in your veins, and you’re reaching for your phone before you can begin to make sense of anything.

“Hey. It’s the middle of the night.”

“I need you to check on Bucky.” You tell Steve, your tone urgent.

“What?”

“Just do it, Steve.”

“What’s going on?”

“Steve.”

You hear movement on his end, and listen intently as he leaves his apartment and heads across the hall. “It’s been quiet all night,” he assures you. “We had a run-in today, but other than that…” He trails off, and that’s what sets your heart pounding. “FRIDAY, what time did Bucky leave his apartment?” Steve asks the AI, and you feel your heart plummet.

You don’t hear her reply.

“Steve, listen to me. I think he’s been taken.”

“How the hell did you--”

“I can’t explain it. I need you to come get me. I don’t want to worry anyone here, but I can help.”

“I’ll be wheels up in ten.”

A click, and then the line goes dead.

It feels like hours before you hear a knock on the door in the base, and Phil Coulson is there, looking as worried as you are, though you’re sure he’s picking up on the anxiety coming from Steve, and from having an Avenger in his secret base.

“Steve!”

“He’s gone.” Steve says rapidly, “We had a… brief infiltration today--”

“A what?!”

“Don’t worry about it now. Point is - I think they were a distraction. They needed to figure out how to get in and how to get to Bucky.”

“I can find him.” You grab your bag, trying to push past him and Coulson both to get to the door.

“Wait a minute, slow down, how did you even know he was gone? I don’t understand.”

“We don’t have time for this right now, Steve. Who knows what they’ve done to him or are planning to do.”

“Hey.” Steve’s voice is sharp, drawing you back into focus. “I need you to slow down. Explain this to me like I’m an idiot.”

You glare, but force your breathing to slow. “Something’s wrong. I just-- I can feel it, Steve.”

“How?”

“I think I’m-- his,” you choke out. “I-- he doesn’t have a mark, I know that, but I have one. I’ve had one my whole life, and I’ve never felt--”

Steve exhales hard. “Jesus Christ.” Hands on his hips, he looks back at you. “So… you can sense him? Is that it?”

You nod. “Sort of. I noticed it when we first met. An awareness, really. I didn’t think anything of it. I thought I was being overprotective while he was recovering.”

Steve’s expression clears. “The night he had an episode after we went to Brooklyn. You knew something was wrong before I heard him.”

“Steve, I-- I don’t want him to know. We just need to find him. Everything else… it doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that I can help you find him, and we can help him.”

“Okay.” Steve’s voice is sure, full of conviction. “Okay. We get him back, and we worry about the rest later.”

.

“Where are the others?” You ask as you, Steve, and Phil walk as quickly as possible towards the quinjet.

“Tony’s on standby. No point in bringing the full team until we know what we’re up against. I don’t even know where to start looking.” He exhales hard. “What do they even want with him? Without the triggers, there’s no point--”

“Hydra’s been trying to pop up all over the world,” Coulson says. “They’ve taken over several old SHIELD bases, some that we didn’t even know about. They could be trying to use the Asset to bring out whoever’s still in hiding.”

“But he’s not the Soldier anymore.” You say, fierce.

“They don’t know that.” Coulson points out.

At this point, other members of his team have gathered, and you try to keep it together before you have to explain yourself in front of everyone. You’d rather suss this out with Steve, first.

“We’re ready to help if you need it, Captain.” Coulson says, shoulders straight.

Steve watches him carefully, hands on his hips. “We don’t even know where to start looking.”

“Any chance Sergeant Barnes would try to send a signal?” Daisy asks, her voice quiet as she interrupts. “If you know what to look for, we could try to hack into any outgoing Hydra communication channels we know about.”

Steve’s expression clears. “Yeah, he might. If he’s not--”

“He’s not compromised, Steve. I can feel it.” You tell him quietly. Steve stares at you, trying to decide if he can trust this. You don’t blame him - you have no idea if this is going to work either.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Steve says finally.

“You got it, boss.” Daisy says, with a lazy salute, and you watch, amused as her gaze snaps to Coulson. “No offense, Director.”

“None taken. I’m outranked.” He says agreeably.

You sigh in relief at finally having some help. You can’t let anything happen to Bucky. For Steve’s sake, and for your own.

.

Bucky opens his eyes slowly - his eyelids feel like they weigh a hundred pounds. Immediately he’s on edge. He has a hazy vision of someone breaking down his door, a cloth in his face and him trying to fight them off before he passed out.

Shit, he thinks, Steve’s going to be so pissed. He takes a minute to assess the situation. A dingy, dark room. He’s shackled. Not the most original way he’s ever been held against his will, but whatever.

He spares a thought for you. Do you even know he’s gone? You’re with SHIELD. Steve’s probably trying like hell to keep this from you, so he doesn’t worry you. Bucky feels himself getting angrier the longer he thinks about it - he finally thinks he might be able to work up the nerve to ask you out, or to at least tell you he thinks you’re-- well, it doesn’t matter.

None of it will matter unless he gets out of here.

He feels a little woozy. He wonders what they used to knock him out, because he knows it would take nearly five times a normal amount of anything that would render a normal person unconscious. It makes him a little nervous, but again, it mostly pisses him off.

He tests his left arm - and can’t move. A brief flash of panic runs through him, but he grits his teeth and tells himself to calm down. There’s something in the room - an EMP maybe? Something that’s taken his arm out of commission.

He tests the shackles, and his right arm pulls free.

“Huh.” Suspicious.

The door opens, and in comes one of the two men who greeted him near the armory at the Tower.

“Oh, hello.” Bucky greets.

“Soldat.” The other man says, and Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“What was it I told you earlier? Oh, right. Eat shit.”

“So the rumors are true? The trigger words no longer work. That’s alright, there are other ways to make you comply.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Look, I’m done taking orders. So you’re wasting your time.”

Bucky does, under it all, wonder what the play is here. He’s basically not held down any more, and they had to know the restraints wouldn’t hold him. So what’s the point? He doesn’t know enough about the Avengers to be a threat to their security, and he’s ninety percent sure that the brainwashing won’t work.

He’s banking on it.

In the back of his mind, there’s a buzzing that lets him know he’s still not completely with it. He also has a gut feeling that Steve is already assembling, or whatever it is he calls it when the Avengers get a mission, so he just has to stall enough to catch this goon off guard and get the hell out of here.

“Well, go on then. Tell me about your nefarious plans.”

That earns him a punch on the jaw, and while it doesn’t hurt really, it pisses him off.

“Alright. I’m tired of this. Tell me what you want, or I’m going to leave, and if I have to kill you to do it, well, that’s just too bad.”

His smile is just a touch too wild to be sane, Bucky thinks, right before he presses something in his right hand. Not an EMP, then, Bucky has a second to think before it feels as if his entire brain is being electrocuted, and then he blacks out.

.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this?” Tony asks Steve the second he lands in the hangar at SHIELD HQ. “Hello,” he says distractedly to the small crowd that’s gathered.

“Bucky’s in trouble.”

“Barnes has been in trouble his entire life.”

“Tony.” You growl, a warning if he’s ever heard one. “We have to help him.”

Tony sighs. “This place is pretty cool, if a little low tech,” he says finally, looking around, his gaze landing on Phil Coulson. “Phil. You’re not dead.”

“Neither are you. Heard it was pretty close for the both of us.”

Tony turns back to you and Steve. “Why am I here but Wilson isn’t?”

“Sam’s already doing recon.” Steve says, his expression hard. “I need you to help with the hacking.”

“Hey!” Daisy protests, not looking up from her laptop. “I don’t need help--”

“I know you,” Tony says. “You hacked SHIELD. They called me about that. I think you owe me an apology.”

She raises an eyebrow. “... anyway. We were able to narrow it down to these two previously unknown SHIELD bases. They’ve been silent for months, but recently had a string of outgoing communications, one of which can be tracked to a location in New York not far from the Tower.”

“He’s around the fucking block and I flew all the way here?”

Steve glares at Tony. “That doesn’t mean it’s where they’ve taken him. Just that they’re operating there.”

“They’ve probably had eyes on him ever since he came back to New York,” you say quietly.

“Christ.” Tony runs a hand over his face. “Alright, get Wilson over there and see what he can shake out. Doc, do you have a plan if Barnes is… compromised?”

You’re quiet. Steve’s quiet. No one really knows what to do if that’s the case. You’re not sure if it’s even possible, not after all the work Shuri did with Bucky’s recovery in Wakanda, but there’s still the possibility… no. You won’t let yourself think about it.

“We could use the containment module.” Agent May says quietly, one of the first things she’s said since you’ve been with SHIELD. “It’s meant to hold the strongest inhumans.”

Tony gets out of the suit eventually and you all start pouring over audio files from the last few days to try to find Bucky.

Eventually, Steve turns to you. “He’s alright?” He asks, softly, worriedly.

You sigh, but at the pained look on his face, you have no other choice. You concentrate as hard as you can, feeling your connection with Bucky like a tether. You’d know if he was gone. Even if it was just his mind.

“I think so.”

Tony gapes. “Does someone want to fill me in, here?”

“They have a connection.” Steve says, flat.

You watch as Tony connects the dots. “Oh, sweet Christ. That explains a lot.”

You glare. “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, turning back to the monitor in front of him, muttering. “Making heart eyes at each other across my lab--”

“It could be that only she has the mark. But it shouldn’t diminish the bond,” Simmons says quietly across the table, her eyes not leaving the papers in front of her.

“You told SHIELD before you told me?” Tony asks, incredulous. “I’m wounded.”

“Are they always like this?” Fitz asks Coulson, not so quietly. You can relate - there’s something about seeing that your heroes are just regular people.

“Got him.” Daisy says suddenly, voice hard. “There.” She points at the map.

“Let’s go,” Coulson directs, “we’re wheels up in five.”

“You’re staying here.” Steve tells you, and you immediately stop in your tracks.

“I’m going with you. Are you--”

“This is a rescue mission.”

“And I’m a doctor!” And I’m his soulmate, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“Argue later, on the jet now!” May says sharply, throwing a bulletproof vest in your direction. You catch it before you get knocked over with the weight, and slip it on as quick as you can.

On the jet, you watch as Steve Rogers slowly disappears and Captain America takes over, giving orders and preparing for the possibility that the person they’re going to find might no longer be his best friend.

“You’re going to stay on board while we clear the place, got it?”

You scowl, but don’t argue with him, knowing it won’t do you any good. He goes around handing out comms, and everyone checks that they’re working, giving him a thumbs up. Daisy Johnson looks absolutely delighted to be on a mission with Captain America and Iron Man.

It seems like it’s only minutes before you land. Sam is waiting for you when you get there, and squeezes your shoulder as he passes you to confer quietly with Steve and Tony.

“Alright, we’re going to split up into teams.”

While Steve is talking, you’re barely listening, too focused on trying to concentrate on your newly-discovered bond with Bucky to figure out if he’s alright.

“Don’t get any ideas, Doc.” Tony says to you on his way out the door, tapping the comms device in his ears for emphasis as he goes.

You sigh - you hate being sidelined, even if you know Steve is right - you can’t provide the kind of help that they might need.

“Be careful,” you tell the three of them, plus the SHIELD team.

They go down the ramp quickly, leaving you alone with Simmons and Fitz.

.

Bucky hasn’t really been thankful for his advanced hearing in the short time he’s been fully in control of his faculties, but even in the short time he’s been back with Steve, he’d recognize the sound of a quinjet landing anywhere.

He feels like he’s been knocked over the head with a hammer. His energy has been totally zapped, and he knows he needs to fight, needs to figure out how to get the hell out of here, he just can’t summon the will to get up.

There’s a commotion in the hallway near the room he’s being kept, and when the door finally bursts open, his face falls when he sees Tony Stark.

“Did you disable the power?” Bucky asks immediately, not giving Tony a chance to make what he’s sure was meant to be a dramatic entrance.

“What? No. Why are you on the ground?” Tony asks, irritated, taking a few steps towards Bucky before a now-familiar buzzing fills his ears. Bucky watches, un-amused, as the lights flicker, and Tony freezes, his suit shorting out.

It’s not the same bone-crackling energy that had rendered him virtually useless earlier, but Bucky still grits his teeth at the feeling of it ripping up whatever sensors are left in his metal arm.

“Oh, god dammit.” Tony curses. “Steve is here. He’ll figure it out.”

“They’ve got a device like an EMP. Shorts out everything electrical.” He winces, “Makes me feel like my brain is leaking out of my ears.”

“That’ll mean Wilson down for the count too,” Tony mutters.

Overhead, the lights flicker once more and then they go out entirely. The walls seem to shake with the force of an explosion, and Bucky and Tony barely have a chance to exchange worried glances before they’re plunged into darkness.

.

Inside the quinjet, it feels like an earthquake.

Jemma doesn’t look up. “That’ll be Daisy,” she says casually.

Fitz is frowning. “That didn’t feel like a quake.” He stands, heading over to one of the monitors where he tries to get in touch with the rest of the team. “Daisy? Coulson?”

You try too, pressing your finger against the comms device in your ear. “Steve?”

You get no response, not from him, and not from anyone else. You start to feel dread prickling up your spine, and you surge to your feet, not able to just sit there anymore.

“I have to go help them.”

Simmons looks up at you, “You don’t have any way to defend yourself! If they’re not responding--”

“What, we’re going to just leave them in there?”

Fitz looks like he’s weighing his options. He moves quickly, digging into his backpack. He pulls out his sidearm, thrusting it at you. “You know how to use this?”

You swallow thickly. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.” He shoulders his backpack, and you tuck the gun into your waistband.

“Fitz!” Simmons protests. “The Captain said to stay here—“

“Tell him it was my idea,” you say. “He can lecture me after we save his life.” You take off down the ramp before either of them can say anything else, but you’re relieved when you hear their footsteps following.

Inside, you’re immediately on edge at the lack of guards. You’ve got your borrowed gun at the ready, Fitz and Simmons silently behind you. “First floor is clear,” you whisper. On a whim, you press your finger to your ears again, just on an off chance. “Can anyone hear me?”

“Daisy!” Simmons exclaims before racing towards a figure slumped against a far wall. “Daisy? Can you hear me?”

Daisy groans, opening her eyes slowly. “Shit. Simmons?”

“What happened? We thought it was you--”

“It was me, but then there was this-- I don’t know. It felt like it was scrambling my brain. Took the power out. I tried to quake a few of the guards, but it knocked me out.”

“It only knocked out the powered people?”

“It shorted out my gloves,” Daisy says, getting to her feet. “It’s like it reversed the energy I was exerting and put it back at me.”

You blanche. “Steve and Bucky.”

Fitz echoes your worry. “Falcon and Iron Man have powered suits. Might have had the same effect on them, too.”

All you can think of is what Bucky might have felt - his arm literally is fused to his nerves - and you’re suddenly angrier than you’ve ever been. Forcing yourself to take a few deep breaths. You have no idea if Bucky’s realized your connection yet, but even if he hasn’t he’s got to be feeling some residual panic. You force yourself to calm down.

“There.” Fitz says suddenly, pointing towards the one room in the building with a light on. You can hear voices inside. “It’s Coulson.”

You walk up to the room slowly, gun drawn, the three SHIELD agents at your back. Peering around the corner, you can hear what almost sounds like a casual conversation between Coulson and some Hydra lunatic.

“-- what exactly is the grand plan? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s four Avengers here.”

The man scoffs. “A lot of good they are, aren’t they!” He laughs, “Captain Rogers here doesn’t look like he’s much up for anything right now.”

You take a deep breath when you see Steve slumped against the doorway. Slowly, you reach down, checking his pulse. Still alive, you reassure yourself.

“So you’ve got a device that can take out inhumans and the enhanced. What comes next?”

“Don’t forget it disables any man-made technology that aids the enhanced. Gives us a much more level playing field.”

“This is boring,” Coulson says, dry. “There’s no grand plan? You kidnapped Bucky Barnes to… what? To get Steve Rogers here? To get SHIELD here? You had to know someone would come.”

“The more Avengers we can take out at once, the better. And once we build this machine to its full potential, we can take out entire countries' worth of inhumans and the enhanced.”

You’ve heard enough. “New plan.” You say firmly, stepping around the corner, gun raised. Your eyes narrow. “Where’s Sergeant Barnes?”

The man looks unruffled. “I assume he’s in the cell where we left him, considering he’s only got one fully functioning arm.”

You glance over your shoulder at Fitz and Simmons. “Figure out a way to power that down.” Daisy stays out of sight, but you appreciate knowing you’ve got at least one superhero at your back. Gun still pointed at the Hydra agent, they hurry around him, analyzing the panels and buttons in front of them.

“I wondered if you’d come too,” the man says. He holds out a hand. “Alex Harrison. We haven’t met yet. Well, not officially.” He smirks, “Seen you around though, with the Asset.”

“He has a name.” You growl.

“Two minutes,” Fitz says, and you’re aware of Coulson reaching for his waistband, too. Behind you, Steve starts to rouse, and you fight off the panic at him immediately springing into action.

“Even if you destroy this machine, the plans won’t be stopped.”

“You talk too much,” Coulson says, lunging forward and hitting Harrison hard with the butt of his gun, sending him collapsing to the ground.

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Had to find out about their evil plan.”

“What-- what are you doing here?” Steve asks groggily.

“Hate to break this up, but we need to find the others.” Daisy says. She looks at you, “Can you tell where he is?”

You concentrate on the bond.

“I’ve got him.”

.

Bucky thinks if he could avoid spending any extended period of time with Tony Stark again, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

“All I’m saying is… have you noticed her?”

He’s been needling Bucky about you for the last half hour, and Bucky’s about had it. “Shouldn’t we be trying to get the hell out of here?”

Tony glares. “Well, considering I can’t move…”

The door to the cell suddenly bursts open, and both Bucky and Tony flinch.

“Took you long enough!” Tony crows at the unfamiliar woman, holding her hand up not unlike Bucky’s seen Tony do.

“Bucky!”

His head snaps up at the sound of your voice. You’re there, in front of him, real and alive, hair escaping your ponytail in tendrils, clad in a bulletproof vest and a pair of jeans that he thinks he’ll be dreaming about for days to come.

Also, a gun.

He’s never pondered the attractiveness of firearms until now.

“This seems backwards,” Bucky says. “I should be the one attempting a daring rescue for you.”

“He’s not good at being grateful,” Tony mutters.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the woman says, interrupting. “I’m Daisy. I’m with SHIELD. It’s an honor to meet you.” She grabs his good arm, hoisting him to his feet.

“Brought the calvary, then?” Bucky asks you, over Daisy’s shoulder.

Daisy snorts. “Actually, yes, but don’t let Agent May hear you say that.”

“We have to go quickly.” You say, moving to Bucky’s side. “Are you hurt anywhere else? What did they--” your voice is getting increasingly panicked, and Bucky stops you.

“I’m okay.” He says softly. “Let’s go.”

Getting both himself and Tony oriented is a struggle as they fight off the effects of the EMP, but out in the corridor, he finds the rest of the team including Wilson and Steve congregating. He fights not to notice the way you stay close to his side, close enough to touch.

“How did you find me?” Bucky asks Steve.

Steve glances at you. “It’s a long story.”

Outside, on the quinjet, you busy yourself checking everyone for injuries and any signs of trauma from the Hydra device. You’re in your element, and Bucky can’t take his eyes off you.

He realizes how close he came to being done for. If not for the quickness of the team - however they found him - and for the fact that the trigger words don’t work anymore, he would have been lights out without ever telling you that he thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

They land quickly, promising the SHIELD agents a chance to rest up at Stark Tower before they head back to their base.

You head to the infirmary with Bucky, whose arm is still shorted out.

“Let’s see if we can’t get you back up and running, okay, Sergeant?” Your smile is gentle.

“Yes ma’am.”

He watches you work, watches the way your forehead creases as you concentrate and the way you have tiny flecks of light in your eyes.

He wonders if you’ve got someone. You’ve never mentioned it, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining all these little moments the two of you have had together. There’s the matter of the mark. He hasn’t seen if you have one. He’s put off thinking about his own - or the lack thereof - for… decades.

He decides he doesn’t care. Not when you’re smiling at him like that, and indulging his bad jokes, and making him feel like he’s a normal person, not someone to be afraid of.

“Do you have plans tomorrow?” He blurts.

You look startled. “Uh-- no, I don’t think so.”

“Do you want to go out?” He takes a minute to relish in the surprised look on your face. “With me?”

A myriad of emotions flash across your face. One he doesn’t expect to see is sadness. It makes a lead weight settle in his stomach.

“Bucky…”

He’s afraid of what you’re going to say. He finds himself rushing to reassure you. “It’s not-- it doesn’t have to be anything serious. I just-- I want to spend time with you. Just us.”

You’re so still. It doesn’t track with anything he knows about you - the way you’re always moving, always taking care of everyone else.

“You want to go out with me?” You manage. “Like, a date?”

He smiles. “Yeah, like a date.”

“You want to go out on a date with me?” You ask him again, and he laughs, unable to believe that he has to explain why he thinks you’re so extraordinary.

“I’ve felt a connection with you since the minute we met. I can’t explain it, but it’s true. And the way you burst in there to rescue me, all guns and glory…” a wry smile twists his mouth. “How was I supposed to not want you?”

“Oh, Bucky.” You say, watery through your tears. But you’re smiling now, which is a far sight better than when he thought you were horrified by the prospect of being with him romantically.

He continues, feeling a burst of confidence. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, so I’m sorry if I’m out of practice. I just-- I feel like I know you. I need you to know that even if-- if we’re not soulmates, even if you don’t believe in that shit, I still want you. I don’t see that changing any time soon.” Bucky’s voice is filled with conviction, and he watches as tears pool in your eyes and start to spill over. “Oh, honey, no.” He reaches for you, but stops halfway. “Don’t cry. I’ll-- what do you need? If you need me to fuck off and never be seen again, I know a guy who can make that happen,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.

A choked sob leaves your mouth, but now you’re smiling, so Bucky takes it as a good sign, though he’s still terrified you’re going to turn tail and leave him standing here. “What is it? Why are you-- please don’t cry.”

You don’t say anything, but it happens almost in slow motion. You lift up your left arm and slowly push up the sleeve, and start to take off your watch. Underneath, in faded black ink, is a vine of ivy, trailing around your delicate wrist, small leaves dotting your veins.

His entire world stops. He’s speechless. He has absolutely no idea what to say. His brain is just screaming, you belong to her, you belong to her over and over again.

“I knew I was yours, but I thought that you didn’t belong to me.” You’re saying. “I-- I didn’t want to trap you, I--.”

“Why would you think that?” His voice cracks.

You look confused. “You don’t have a mark, Buck, I’m your doctor, I saw your arm--”

“My left arm.” His voice is hoarse.

“What?”

“My mark was on my left arm. It showed up in 1934, before the war, before… everything.”

The air whooshes from the room.

“What did it look like?” You ask timidly.

He smiles, stepping closer. “Why don’t you tell me?” He takes your hand, slowly, like he’s afraid he’s going to spook you.

“If this is a joke--”

“I would never joke about this.” He says, hoarse. “I got my mark when I was seventeen years old, and all I thought about for years was finding my match.” Feeling braver, he reaches forward, cupping your face in his palm. “They took that from me,” he says. “Kind of fitting the one to rescue me from Hydra was also the one to bring my mark back to me, right?”

You laugh, a little choked through your tears, and he leans down, tracing the pattern he knows so well with his fingertips on his good hand. “There’s a pale pink flower,” he whispers, looking you dead in the eyes. “Right about here.” His thumb presses lightly at the crook of your elbow, where you know a flower sits.

“It’s how I found you.” You tell him, and the pieces start to click into place. “I dreamed about you, but I think it was more of a vision.”

“You were the one to realize I’d been taken?” He asks, feeling his heart squeeze. “Jesus.”

“Called Steve in the middle of the night. Demanded he listen to me and he came to get me from SHIELD.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, a smile growing on his face. “In a good way,” he adds. Then, quieter, “I’ve dreamed of you too.” He whispers.

You’re both quiet for a few minutes. “What do we do now?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Don’t know. I haven’t done this before.” HIs eyes are filled with mirth.

“Oh… you-- shut up.”

He grins - he has a feeling riling you up is going to be one of his favorite pastimes.

“Let me get your arm up and running, and then we’ll talk.” You eye him carefully. “I might have to get Tony for the hardwiring.”

Bucky lets his head drop back as he groans. “Anyone but him.”

You cackle delightedly. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

He brightens at the use of the endearment. He feels - it’s a dream. Seventy years of waiting, and somehow, in the back of his mind, he knew you were different the minute he met you.

He knows you have a lot to talk about - a lot to decide, a lot to work through. He feels almost invincible, though, especially after thinking for so long that he would never find his match if he didn’t have his mark anymore. He still can’t fathom how he got so lucky for it to be you.

.

You feel like you’re walking on clouds for the rest of the day. After some good-natured ribbing from the team, and from SHIELD - you promised to stay in touch with them, if only to convince Steve and Tony to come around and start working with them again; you quite like Phil Coulson - they mostly leave you and Bucky alone.

You hole up in his apartment for nearly the entire day, talking about everything you can think of. Your childhood, his childhood, even the rough parts that make his voice catch and harden… you sit right there and hold his hand through it.

You can almost feel your bond like a living, breathing thing now. It’s electric when the two of you touch, something that you’d always noticed but tried not to put any weight on.

Now, it seems so obvious.

He kisses you goodnight. It sends a flare of heat through you and nearly makes you dizzy, and you want him to do it again as soon as it ends.

He reminds you that you’ve got a lifetime to sort out what this all means.

A lifetime with Bucky Barnes sounds like a dream.

You can’t wait.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Keeping the Monsters At Bay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Anxiety Attacks, mentions of nightmares, mentions of broken bones Word Count: 2137 Square Filled: @star-spangled-bingo​ Free Space & @buckybarnesbingo​ U5 *Picture Square* Summary: Reader forgot to replenish the medical supplies after a previous mission and it’s almost time for the team to leave for the next one. The pressure triggers an anxiety attack for Reader, which is when Bucky comes upon them. With Bucky’s help, Reader is able to manage the attack. The next night Reader is able to return the favor when they’re awoken by screaming. Bucky is having nightmares again so Reader helps him get through the night. 

“Shit!” You hissed out the word as you slammed the storage compartment closed. You looked over your shoulder to see if anyone else had overheard your outburst. Dr. Banner was the only on the quinjet with you. He politely pretended not to have heard you. The other’s would be arriving soon and expect you to be ready to go. You opened another compartment only to discover it too was empty.

“Everything all right, [Y/N}?” Bruce asked after you loudly closed a third compartment.

“Yes, I think so.” You sighed. “I’ll be right back.”

You stormed out of the quintet mumbling every curse word you could think of. On the last mission Steve had asked you to rotate the medical supplies. Apparently you’d remembered to empty all the medical compartments, but never refilled the supplies. As soon as you were sure that you were out of Bruce’s sight you began running through the corridors. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach when you thought of how you could be a reason for the mission to be delayed. You didn’t have much time together everything you needed, but you’d have to do your best. The last thing you wanted was to be in the field and not have something you needed.

“[Y/N]!” Tony called out to you as you almost collided with him. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“Sorry Tony, I’ve just got to grab something quick.” You told him without stopping.

“Wheels up in ten minutes!” He shouted after you. “That’s with or without you!” He hadn’t meant anything by it. You knew he didn’t because half of everything Tony said wasn’t serious. You also knew there was no way Steve would let him leave you behind, but you couldn’t rationalize with anxiety.

You really wished you could turn this part of you off. There was never a convenient time for an anxiety attack, but a mission was one of the worst times. You were already experiencing a stomach pain so intense it felt the way a towel looks when it’s being wrung out. You knew what would happen next, the worrying and overthinking. You’d worry so much about making sure to pack everything that you were bound to forget something. You felt the pain in your chest as you rounded the next corner.

“Almost there.” You whispered as you forced yourself from a run to a walking pace. You were starting to have troubling breathing. You tried to tell yourself it was from the running and the worrying. It would go away once you had all the supplies. That did nothing to sooth the burning feeling in your lungs.

“[Y/N]?” You’d been so inside of your own head, you hadn’t seen Bucky at the other end of the hall. Gasping for breaths now, you allowed yourself to lean against the wall and waited for him to come to you. “Are you okay?” He asked you quietly.

You nodded “Yes” Unable to answer him verbally. He seemed unhappy with that answer.

“You wanna try that again?” He asked. His tone was gentle, inventing. It lacked the usual sarcastic whipping you were used to from him.

“I’m…fine.” You managed between gasps. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing. It was no use. A part of you was still acutely aware of the time crunch you were under. You didn’t have time for an anxiety attack, which was only making it worse.

“You can lie to me if you want to, but it’s not going to fix the situation.” Bucky said. You opened your mouth to tell him again that you were fine and instead you began to cry. You confessed to Bucky the reason that you were so upset.

“The medical supplies? [Y/N] you didn’t forget to refill those after the last mission. Tony was doing something to the jet a few weeks ago and there was a hydraulic fuel leak. A bunch of the stuff in the jet was ruined. Steve and Tony forgot they’d thrown it all away. That’s what I’m doing here.” He removed the backpack he was wearing and opened it. You could see the bag was filled with supplies.

“We have to go.” You gasped. Instead of feeling better, you felt worse. You’d wasted time coming all the way here you were making everyone else late.

“They’ll wait for us.” Bucky said with certainty. “Do you have water with you?”

“I’m not thirsty.” You told him.

“You’ll feel better if you drink water.” He produced a water bottle from his backpack and forced it into your shaking hands. You tried to sip slowly from the bottle, it did seem to loosen the horrible feeling in your gut a little. “Would it be okay if I hugged you?” He asked. “Sometimes it helps to regulate the breathing.”

You nodded. Bucky wrapped his arms around you. It was like magic how he held you just enough to feel secure but not too tight that you felt trapped.

“We’re going to take big deep breaths and let them out together, okay?” You nodded again, nestling close to him. The act felt a little childish, but it was helping you. After a minute of breathing together and sipping from your water, you were calming down. You were already feeling the post-anxiety attack drain on your system. You felt like you could sleep for a week.

“Okay.” He smiled. “Ready to go? We can take another minute if you need…”

“We should go. We’ve already kept them waiting.” You started to jog away.

“[Y/N], wait.” Bucky caught your hand and you stopped. “We can walk. The extra two minutes won’t make a difference. You continued down the hall together, with Bucky still holding your hand. You decided you should say something before you joined the others.

“Thanks for that back there.” You mumbled.

“Anytime.” He vowed. “Attacks like that can be hard to pull your own way out of. It helps to have someone who can help.”

“I hate asking for help.” You confessed.

“I’ve noticed.” He nodded. “But we’ve got your back. That’s what being on a team means.”

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a long time.” You explained. “I thought I’d grown out of it.”

“You don’t outgrow anxiety [Y/N].” He said. You didn’t know what to say. You were coming up on the quinjet and could tell everyone else had boarded. Tony was standing outside waiting for you both.

“Barnes, [Y/L/N] is this mission an inconvenience to you?” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment and the panic rising in your chest again. Bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Honestly, yeah, it’s put a damper on my plans for sure.” Bucky called back. “Especially since I had to go all the way to medical to refresh the supplies you ruined.”

“Well, thank you ever so kindly for your contribution Sargent Barnes.” Tony said with a salute. “Thanks for collecting him [Y/N].” Tony winked at you. “He’d probably still be down there gathering bandages without you.”

You and Bucky walked past Tony and continued onto the jet. Bucky dropped your hand and went over to the compartments designated for medical supplies. He began organizing everything While Tony and Steve prepped the jet for take-off.

“Did you find what you needed, [Y/N]?” Bruce asked.

“Hmm? Yeah, I think so.” You nodded. “What did I miss in the briefing?” You changed the subject.

The mission you’d been sent on was, all things considered, a brief one. You were all back by dinner time the following night. The most severe injury had been your own. You sustained a broken fibia when you failed to stick what should have been an easy landing for you. Clint had patched you up in the field and you’d gotten yourself to the team doctor as soon as you got back.

The team lapsed into their post mission routines. For most that meant well deserved naps in their dorms. Steve always liked to work in his debriefings right away and Tony had a new piece of alien tech he wanted to play with.

Your usual post mission routine consisted of pacing around the building until your body and mind were too tired to do anything but sleep. With a broken ankle you couldn’t exactly do that, but you still had no interest in spending the night in the infirmary. As soon as your leg was wrapped in a cast and you received the okay from the doctor, you hobbled out of the medical wing on crutches. Your dorm wasn’t too far away and you were confident you could make it all the way there without assistance.

You were already wearing a plain pair of grey sweatpants an Avengers logo tshirt that had been given to you in medical, so you didn’t bother changing once you reached your dorm. You didn’t bother turning on the lights either. You just placed your crutches by the door and hopped on one foot over to the bed. You feel asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow.

Screaming. You were awakened with a start to the sound of screams. You opened your eyes and tried to listen to where the screaming was coming from. It sounded like one of the dorms. Not wanting to waste any time, and crutches be damned, you raced from your room. The screaming had stopped, which only concerned you more. The lights were off in every dorm in the hall except one, Bucky’s.

With a sliver of light visible under his door, you knocked. When he answered Bucky was covered in sweat. His hair was sticking to his face and he was panting harder than if he’d just run a marathon.

“[Y/N], everything okay?” He asked like you’d been the one screaming your head off just know.

“You tell me, Buck.” You answered. “Either you’re having a hell of a good time in here by yourself or…” you indicated your disheveled appearance.

“Nothing to worry about.” He told you. You didn’t believe him.

“Are you really going to try to ice me out?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “I was honestly with you yesterday when…”

“It’s nothing to worry about, [Y/N].” He repeated. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Shouldn’t you be resting your leg?” He pointed to your cast.

“I was, until someone’s screaming woke me up.” You pointed out.

“Oh. Sorry about that.” He apologized awkwardly. “I’m good now.”

“Why were you screaming? Were you having nightmares again?” You asked.

“They’ll go away on their own.” He told you.

“Aren’t you the same person who told me that my anxiety wouldn’t go away on its own and that it’s okay to ask for help?” You reminded him. “I’m here, let me help.”

“It’s not that easy [Y/N].” He frowned.

“Bucky your room is across the hall from mine, so I know you don’t get nightmares every night. You haven’t found anything that helps stop them?” You questioned.

“Well,” He hesitated. There was one thing that seemed to help keep the nightmares away, but he hadn’t exactly tested his theory. He’d only noticed that while he was away on missions, if he had someone sleeping close by him, he would sleep through the night. Steve was the only person he’d felt comfortable sharing this information with so far.

“Let me help you.” You insisted, reaching out and taking his hand. Bucky explained his dilemma to you. “Oh, that’s all?” You smiled at him. “I could stay in here with you. I’m supposed to be resting my leg anyway so would be a win-win. My leg gets to rest, and we both get some sleep.”

“What if someone were to find out you were sleeping in here?” He worried.

“We don’t have tell them why.” You promised. “It’s none of their business. C’mon, help me in the bed.” You put an arm around his neck and leaned against him, relieving the weight on your bad leg.

“You’re sure this is okay with you?” He put an arm around your waist and helped you over to the bed.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” You promised as you sat on the bed.

“Are you okay with the lights on?” he asked, sitting down next to you.

“Whatever helps Bucky.”  You nodded. He laid down and you snuggled up next to him. You hadn’t imagined how soft his muscular chest would be, it was the best pillow you’d ever had. When he wrapped an arm around you to hold you close, you were immediately enveloped in warmth.

“This okay?” He questioned.

“Mm-hmm.”  You hummed happily while he drew the bedcovers over both of you.

“Good night [Y/N].” He whispered as your eyes fluttered closed.

“Good night, Buck.” You yawned before drifting off to sleep.  

[suituuup]

pandemic shenanigans

Chloe discovers TikTok and decides to do a bunch of pranks on her girlfriend

rated: T

word count: 3k

ao3 link

*

It’s the pandemic’s fault. 

Chloe was bored af one day at the start of quarantine, and decided to download TikTok, the app Gen Z has been raving about. Little did she know five minutes on the app could turn into four hours without her being aware and brought procrastination to another level. 

She quickly becomes addicted to cute animal videos (duh) and couple pranks. So addicted that the temptation of trying a few on her girlfriend is too great. 

i. Did you forget what today was

“Morning,” Beca mumbles, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm as she shuffles towards the coffee pot. While Chloe’s an early bird, Beca rarely makes it out of bed before ten on the weekends, and Chloe is usually already showered and dressed by the time she does. 

She and Beca live in that same studio which they used to share with Amy, until their Australian friend inherited some serious money and moved out. 

It’s been really nice to have an actual bed instead of that crappy pull-out couch. 

“Good morning,” Chloe chirps, craning her neck to accept the kiss Beca brushes to her lips. Beca slides in the chair across hers, pouring some milk in the bowl Chloe’s set out for her, followed by cereals.

(yes, she’s that weirdo who puts the milk first.)

“What?” Beca pauses with her first spoonful halfway to her mouth, finally noticing Chloe staring at her. 

“Did you forget what today was?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, cradling her mug in her hands.

Beca blinks, and Chloe can nearly see the fuck popping up in her brain as panic flashes in her eyes. “Uh, Saturday?” 

Chloe purses her lips, both to appear annoyed and to keep her bubbling laughter in. “Beca.” 

Beca’s nose scrunches up. “I know, I know, gimme a sec. This is not our anniversary, or your birthday, you’re not working today so there’s nothing important regarding your job,” she lists off, her eyes lighting up a beat later. “Oh! Is it this weekend Aubrey’s coming up?” 

“No,” Chloe sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I can’t believe you forgot.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Beca rushes out, standing up and crossing the distance between them to sit across Chloe’s lap. She kisses her softly, looping her arms around her neck. “I’m sorry. What’s going on today? I promise I’ll make time for it. And I’ll give you a massage tonight to make up for being a bad girlfriend. And we can eat whatever you like.” Smirking mischievously, she adds in a lower tone, “And, I’ll let you do whatever you wanna do to me later.” 

Chloe grins, unable to hold it any longer. “Nothing’s going on, babe. I was just messing with you.” 

Beca’s jaw falls open as she pulls back, glaring. “Not cool, dude!”

Chloe simply giggles, nuzzling her neck and pressing an apologetic kiss to Beca’s skin. “You’re cute when you’re panicking.”

A huffs puffs free and Beca pouts. “Whatever.”

Chloe tightens her hold around Beca’s waist so she can’t get away. “Can I still do whatever I want to you tonight?” 

The whimper that rises from Beca’s throat shoots a chill down her spine. Beca’s cheeks redden and she squirms a little in Chloe’s lap. “Yeah--yes.” 

Safe to say Chloe won’t be uploading that video on TikTok. She also won’t tell Beca this was a Tiktok prank, because this turned out to be a lot of fun and she’s got more up her sleeve.

ii. climb on their lap while they’re busy doing something else

Friday nights are Chloe’s favorite. As none of them work during the weekends, it means they get two whole days of quality time with each other. Tonight though, her highly professional girlfriend needs to take care of a few work things to make sure she can spend a stress free weekend, but it’s been hours, and Chloe is kind of craving some attention. 

Beca’s working on her laptop while sitting on the couch, and after changing into her PJ’s, Chloe unceremoniously curls up sideways on her lap, looping her arms around her shoulders and resting her forehead against the side of Beca’s neck. 

“Oh,” Beca breathes out, setting her computer aside before her arms loosely wrap around Chloe’s body. “Hello.” 

“Hi,” Chloe murmurs back, brushing a kiss to Beca’s neck and releasing a soft sigh of contentment. 

Beca’s hand runs up and down her thigh as she pushes a kiss to Chloe’s hair. “You alright?” 

Chloe hums, forgetting all about her phone propped against one of the shelves capturing the moment to make a TikTok, instead basking in the instant comfort being in Beca’s arms provides. 

Beca peppers her face with soft, featherlight kisses that make Chloe warm from the inside out. She really is a slut for Beca’s affection. “M’sorry I had to work tonight.” 

Chloe smiles. “It’s okay.” She pecks Beca’s lips and brushes her nose against hers. “I’m heading to bed. Don’t work too late, babe.” 

Beca nods, winking softly. “Right behind you.” 

True to her word, Beca slides under the covers less than five minutes later and tugs Chloe’s body against her own. Chloe releases another happy sigh, which is cut-off by a yelp when Beca runs her freezing toes along Chloe’s bare calf. 

“Becs!” She cries, moving away and slapping her arm. “Your feet are freaking icicles!” 

Beca snickers like a teenager, seemingly very proud of her act. 

“Put some socks on.” 

Beca’s nose scrunches up adorably. “Ew. No way.” 

“Then stay on your side,” Chloe grumbles, tugging the covers higher around her as she rolls away from Beca, settling on her opposite side. 

“Sorry,” Beca whispers into the dark, shuffling closer. “I won’t do it again.” 

She feels her resolve break as Beca’s lips trace a trail from her exposed shoulder blade to the side of her neck. She hates her traitorous body for not having any willpower when it comes to Beca’s ministrations. “You better not, or I’ll kick you,” she half-jokes. 

“Kinky,” Beca breathes along with a soft laugh, pressing one final kiss to Chloe’s cheek as she drapes her arm around her middle. “I love you.” 

Chloe laces their fingers and squeezes. “I love you too, weirdo.” 

iii. walking out naked while they’re in a zoom meeting 

“Well what doesn’t he like about it?” Beca’s voice carries from the living-room as Chloe stands in their bedroom, a towel wrapped around her naked frame. 

That video of her and Beca cuddling on the couch blew up, hitting 3 millions views and about 400k likes. The few homophobic comments that popped up were quickly drowned out by thousands of people gushing over their relationship or crying about wanting the same kind of relationship. 

Beca was of course aware Chloe would post that video on the internet and weirdly wasn’t opposed to it. 

“Again?” She hears her girlfriend sigh and steps out, losing the towel as she rounds the corner. “I mean, yeah, sure. I’ll see what I--” 

Beca’s words die on her tongue the second her eyes flicker up from her computer screen. Her jaw drops and her mouth gapes wordlessly for a few seconds. 

Chloe is briefly concerned she might have broken her girlfriend.

“Beca?”  Her boss’ voice carries through the speakers, snapping Beca back to her meeting. 

“Yes, yeah-- um-- sorry, I…” She stammers as her cheeks burn, and clears her throat. Her eyes quickly glance back to Chloe, who is fighting against a string of giggles. “I’ll-- I’ll work on something else, no problem.” 

“Alright, keep me posted.”

Beca nods. “See ya.” She shuts her computer so fast Chloe’s concerned she might have damaged it. “You’re evil,” she mutters, shaking her head. 

“Are you complaining?” Chloe husks, strutting over in her birthday suit and tossing her phone on the couch.

Beca visibly swallows, bracing on Chloe’s waist as she settles down her lap. “Never. But next time try not to give me a heart attack?” 

“Deal,” Chloe murmurs, bending down to capture Beca’s lips in a searing kiss. 

iv. Ask them what they would do if they were at a party and a hot girl came up to them

“Hey Bec?” 

“Mm?” 

It’s a rainy rainy afternoon, the ones Chloe loves as they don’t have anywhere to be, and she gets to chill on the couch with her favorite person while listening to the rain pelting against the window. 

Chloe’s head is on Beca’s lap as she lies on the couch, reading a book while Beca messes around on her phone. Beca has absentmindedly been scratching her scalp, and Chloe was about to fall asleep when she got a prank idea. She discreetly propped up her phone against her mug on the coffee table a minute ago, pressing record. 

“What would you do if you were at a party and a hot girl came up to you?” 

Beca lowers her phone, peering at Chloe over it. “What do you mean?” 

Bending her knees, Chloe shifts to sit up and faces Beca. “What would you do if a hot girl flirted with you?” 

“You know I don’t know when people flirt with me, right?” 

Yes, Chloe does know. She lost count of how many times she’s flirted with Beca over their four years of friendship pre-getting together without Beca having a freaking clue. 

“Okay, but still,” Chloe clears her throat and straightens a bit from her slouched position, tucking her legs underneath her. “Let’s say you’re at a party, and I’m a random girl, not your girlfriend, alright?” 

Beca rolls her eyes but nods anyway, setting her phone down and angling her body towards Chloe a bit more. 

Chloe props her elbow on the back of the couch and cradles the side of her head in her palm as she smiles softly, getting into character. She reaches out to run the tip of her pointer finger along Beca’s forearm while keeping her gaze locked on hers, her teeth racking over her bottom lip in an over-the-top flirty move. “Hi.” 

“Hey you,” Beca murmurs with a small smirk, leaning closer a little. Chloe swats the back of her head. “Ow! What was that for??” 

“It’s not me,” she reminds Beca as the brunette rubs the spot with a glare. 

“Sorry, it’s just hard to remember that with those eyes of yours,” Beca laughs. “I can’t focus, they’re pulling me in.” 

“Aw,” Chloe beams. She leans in to peck Beca’s lips, raising an eyebrow when Beca pushes her away. 

“Dude, I’ve got a girlfriend.” 

Chloe rolls her eyes, shoving her as Beca laughs. “Touché.” 

v. ask them if they still get butterflies

“Bec?” 

“Mmm.” 

Spring morphed into summer. A hot, sticky and humid summer. The pandemic is still very much a thing, and Chloe can’t even tell you what day of the week it is anymore. To make things worse, their AC is down, which is why they find themselves on the rooftop of their apartment building that evening, laying on a couple blankets as they stare up at the night sky. Chloe misses the hundreds of stars she would gaze at when she was a kid in Oregon, but she sort of finds the steady sound of cars passing by in the street below them soothing. 

Or you know, maybe it’s the joint she smoked twenty minutes ago with her girlfriend that is finally hitting her. 

“Do you still get butterflies?” 

Beca’s head rolls to the side so she can look at her. “Still?” She asks, smirking softly. “They never left.” 

Chloe giggles, shoving her lightly. Beca is known to grow sappy and affectionate when she’s high, and Chloe absolutely loves it. “Dork.” 

“Felt them just this morning when you were singing in the kitchen while making breakfast and almost pinched myself because I still have to wrap my head around the fact that I get to marry you.” 

Chloe does a double-take as she registers Beca’s words. “What?” Her voice is barely there, hidden under the layers of emotions seizing her throat. 

“Well… yeah,” Beca shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re like, it for me, you know?” 

Moments where Beca splits herself open like that are rare, and they never fail to make Chloe’s heart soar. 

“Are you going to say something Beale or keep staring at me like a weirdo?” Beca eventually quips, chuckling softly. 

Chloe shakes her head a little, then leans forward to push a lingering kiss against Beca’s lips. “I love you, future wife.” 

She feels Beca sigh contentedly as she curls up against her side, her arm wounding around Chloe’s back. “I love you, too.”

vi. sigh loudly in front of them

“What’s wrong?” 

It’s day two hundred something of quarantine. Chloe is bored out of her mind. 

“Nothing,” she whispers, keeping her tone unconvincing on purpose. She’s lying on the couch while Beca sits at the end working on her computer, a Friends rerun playing low on the TV. 

Beca shuts her computer and sets it on the coffee table before crawling up Chloe’s body and settling on top of her. She presses a light kiss to the side of Chloe’s neck. “You sure?” 

“Mhm,” Chloe hums, looping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. 

“I can stop working,” Beca suggests softly, placing another kiss to her chin, then to the tip of her nose. “Wanna go grab some Chick-fil-A? Then we can watch one of those cheesy rom coms that you like.” 

“M’okay,” Chloe agrees quietly. “Can we just cuddle for a bit?” 

“Yeah,” Beca breathes. “Course we can.” She settles her head on Chloe’s chest, lifting it a second later. “Wait, is this a TikTok thing?” Upon Chloe nodding, she groans. “My reputation is taking a blow with each one of those, you know that right?” 

A giggle bursts past Chloe’s lips. “I’m sorry, your what?” 

That earns her a glare. “Bite me, Beale.” 

vii. wipe their kiss away

“I hate this fucking pandemic,” Beca grumbles as she makes it inside, kicking the door shut with a little more force than necessary. “I hate those Karens who don’t wear masks,” she continues as she hoists her two grocery bags on the kitchen counter. “Scratch that, I just hate people in general.” Beca eventually takes off her mask, heaving out a sigh as she drops it onto the counter. “Finally.” 

Chloe smiles in amusement, walking over to start putting the groceries away. “Thanks for going out, babe.” 

“No problem.” She pecks Chloe’s lips on her way to store the yogurt in the fridge, doing a double-take when Chloe wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Did you just… wipe my kiss away?” 

“What? No I didn’t,” Chloe replies innocently. 

Beca stares at her, cocking an eyebrow. “Was it not up to your standards or something?” 

“I mean…” Chloe shrugs nonchalantly. “It was just a peck.” 

“Mmm.” She resumes her task, closing the door to the fridge behind her before making her way over to where Chloe is standing, setting her hands on her hips from behind and coaxing her to turn around. 

“What are you--” the rest of her sentence is cut off by a moan as Beca’s lips capture her own. Chloe’s knees wobble from the heat of the kiss, its intensity sending shockwaves throughout her body, all the way down to her toes. She’s left in a daze by the time Beca pulls away, blinking twice in slow succession as she rolls her swollen lips together. “Holy shit.” 

Beca puffs out her chest a little, smirking. “That’s better.” 

Groceries forgotten, Chloe slides her hand into hers and drags her to the bedroom. 

viii. call them your spouse during a phone conversation

“I’m home,” Chloe calls out as she steps inside their studio apartment. She pauses in the doorway, taking in her surroundings. 

Their small kitchen table is beautifully set, two candles lit on each side and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sitting in the center. Soft acoustic music is playing through Beca’s portable speaker. “Hey, you.” 

“What’s all this?” Chloe asks, smiling brightly as she slings her purse off her shoulder, setting it down. 

Beca approaches, a sheepish smile spreading across her features. “Well… because of this freaking pandemic, we haven’t been out in months, so I thought we could just do a home-date. I ordered from your favorite sushi place, should be here any minute.” 

“Aww.” Shrugging off her jacket, Chloe steps up to place a soft kiss to Beca’s lips. “You’re sweet. And very sexy,” she adds with an eyebrow waggle, taking in Beca’s fancy jumpsuit and hairdo. “I’m gonna go change real quick.” 

Chloe hurries to the bedroom and opens her closet to pick something; she can’t remember the last time she wore a dress, her main outfit having consisted of a hoodie and sweatpants for the better part of the year. Plucking her navy blue, knee length dress out, she changes into it and takes ten minutes to arrange her hair and put on light make-up. 

Beca is on the phone as she steps back out into the kitchen, grinning when Chloe appears. “Yep, got it. Listen, I gotta go, my wife and I are about to eat dinner.” 

Chloe freezes mid-step, her heart stuttering as she registers the term Beca used. 

“Sorry about that,” Beca says once she’s hung up, casting Chloe a smile as she sets her phone down. 

“You just called me your wife,” Chloe murmurs, her eyes shrinking suspiciously a beat later. A gasp follows when it hits her. “Wait, are you TikTok pranking me??” Her gaze quickly sweeps the room. “Where’s the camera, Mitchell?” 

Beca simply grins, shaking her head as she reaches for something in her pocket. “Not a prank, babe.” 

Shocked eyes lifting from the square velvet box nestled in Beca’s palm, Chloe watches as Beca steps closer and lowers herself on one knee. Her heart trips dangerously and she stops breathing altogether. “Bec, you better not be lying.” 

The way she seems nervous all of the sudden tells Chloe this is definitely not a prank. “Chloe--” 

“Yes,” Chloe croaks out, tears pooling in her eyes as her head bobs up and down in a frantic nod. 

Beca’s chuckle comes out strained as she blinks back the moisture in her own eyes. “Dude, let me ask the question at least.” 

“Sorry.” Chloe clamps her lips together and squeezes Beca’s hand to wordlessly let her know she may keep going. 

“Chloe,” Beca repeats, her voice wavering slightly. “This year has been weird as fuck, and the most challenging one yet, but despite everything, I had a near constant smile on my face because of you. You’re my best friend, and the most beautiful person I know, inside and out.” She sucks in a deep breath through her nose, letting go of Chloe’s hand to open the box. Chloe gasps softly at the sight of a simple, yet elegant oval cut diamond set on a rose gold band. “Will you make me the happiest person on earth by accepting to become my wife?” 

“Yes.” She tugs on Beca’s hand, capturing her lips in a searing kiss as soon as she straightens. “I love you so much.” 

Beca grins against her mouth, backing away just enough to seek out Chloe’s eyes. “I love you, too.” 

As she stands there basking in this new, overwhelming wave of feelings, Chloe decides that 2020 wasn’t that bad, after all. 

[tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar]

Post It's

Pairing: JJ Maybank x You

Summary: JJ and you both work at the hotel. Never meeting each other, you leave notes on the others locker.

Word Count: 1,787

Warning: Fluff that's its tooth rooting.

Note: Knowing that JJ works as a bus boy in the show and seeing how well he looked in episode 5, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Tumblr was keep messing up as I was writing this so I'm going to post this and throw my phone out of my bedroom window now :) I hope you love it! :)

━━━

"DON'T EAT SOMEONE ELSE'S LUNCH!"

"Or what? ;) - JJ"

"I'll end your whole career. Side note: I found out who ate my PB & Jelly sandwich and it wasn't you so don't get any idea's now. - Y/N"

━━━

JJ bullshit his way through the hiring process. It might not be his dream job, but it was easy. He had to do something when he realized he had to grow and man up. His father didn't teach him that. His the reason.

The small tips he gets from all the older women after he gives them more attention than their husband's - they're either on 'work' call or still playing a game of golf - doesn't hurt. It's adds up quick. He normally buys more groceries for him and John B as an unspoken thank you for letting him basically live with him. Then he treats himself with new weed. He needs it after surrounded by Kooks and playing the part of a little bitch for them.

As soon as he clocks out for the day, he undo the tie harshly. That's another thing he hates about this job - the uniform. White button up long sleeves, black dress pants with black dress shoes. If it's a morning and evening shift, the finish touch is a black vest. For nights, it's a black tie. Even if he is only walking around to give people refills, asking if they're doing fine, and cleaning up afterwards, his hair must look well put together.

He is unbutton his shirt when he stops in front of his locker. He's smiling at the post it on his locker before he even reads it. He knows who it's from.

It started a month ago. Someone left a message taped on the fridge in the break room for everyone to read. He knows he didn't have to, but he wrote down a response on the piece of paper. He wasn't expecting one back. When the front and back got filled up, he started looking for the same name on a locker. He left a post it note.

He reads the newest one on his locker.

"Fun fact of the day: you're reading this. - Y/N"

He rolls his eyes. He pulls it off and opens his locker, grabbing his normal clothes to go change. He adds it to the pile with the others.

JJ decides to stop at use book store. When a co-worker asks him if he is back for extra hours, he says no. He's carrying a shopping bag.

━━━

Your morning doesn't start on a good note. Your mind wakes you up ten minutes after your alarm should've gone off. You didn't plug in the charger all the way last night, so you're phone is at 14%.

Somehow you get to work on time. You notice you forgot your nametag.

At least there's a new post it on your locker.

"Funny. Not. Look inside and thank me later ;) PS. Don't write your new comb on the back of your lock again. - JJ"

You curse at yourself underneath your breath. You start laughing when you read the title of the book he left for you.

"365 Jokes For Kids: A Joke A Day Book."

You put it in your bag and grab your clear water bottle before closing your locker to clock in.

━━━

The giant clock on the wall taunts you. Only ten more minutes until your break and you can finally eat something.

From the dinner-room area a cute blonde starts walking towards you. By his outfit, you can't help to silent pray that he isn't a boy on a vacation and just knows how to look hot as hell all dressed up. Underneath a black vest, the long white button up shows off his muscles and the sleeves are rolled up, which is just another level of attractiveness itself, and his legs look long and firm in the dress pants. It's his hair that got your attention in the first place and now you can't help to watch as he pulls it, running his fingers through it.

Checking out cute guys all day is definitely a perk for you. Sitting behind a desk all day and being first person people see as they walk in, helping them check in or out, and answering calls is not how you wanted to spend your summer.

Last month your dad pulled some strings over a game of golf to land you this job. He sounds like a robot every time he tells you that you need to work your ass off to get the money you deserve. How is this doing that?

You get out of you thoughts when the cute blonde doesn't go in front of the desk. Instead you have to spin your chair sideways. He learns over the pull-up door and does a hand gesture, telling you to come over. You do.

"Hey."

"Hi?" It comes out as a questin since you're confused as to why he is keep looking back at the dinner room. He seems like he is afraid of getting caught. "Can I help with you something?"

"Can you make an announcement? Over the speaker loud enough for all they to hear?" He looks over again and points.

"It all matters about what you want me to say."

"Say that it's hard as fuck for me to do my job when lil Satan's are running around and how great it would be if parents tell them to stop before I do. I can't get written up or life my job because of them."

You try to hide your excitement when you find out he works here. He's not wearing a nametag. You know that it's only bus boys who don't. Briefly, you wonder if he knows JJ.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could but I can't. Parents will come up and start yelling at me that I should keep my mouth shut and thoughts to myself."

He clenches his jaw and mumbles, "yeah. Right, of course."

"When I come back from my lunch, you can-uh everytime you want to lose your shit, look over here, and I'll give you a thumbs up for not killing someone. Especially the kids."

His laugh makes you wish he is JJ.

Someone comes from behind him to release you. He doesn't say anything before walking away.

But later, you lose track on how many times he looks over at you and mouths, "help me".

━━━

The next day on his day off, he gushes over the front desk girl to his friends. "She made me not want to hurt a room of kooks. I think she has superpowers or some shit."

Kiara takes a hint of his blunt. "I'm kinda jealous, not going to lie. What's her name? I need her to tell how she did it after talking to you for only a couple of minutes when I've been your friend for years."

"I don't know. She wasn't wearing a nametag and I forgot to ask." Pope slaps him on the back of the head. "You forgot or worried she wasn't Y/N?"

"Oh my god!" Sarah squeals, "What if the front desk girl is also post it girl?"

JJ chokes on the hit he was taking. "Life doesn't work like that." For me. He thinks to himself. He makes eye contact with John B. Curse him for being able to read him.

"I think it's time to ask Y/N meet up, dude."

━━━

When he walks through the front doors, he catches himself getting upset seeing someone else at the front desk. He still waves and says good morning. On the door of the back room, there's a sign.

"MANDATORY STUFF MEETING WEDNESDAY, IN THE LOBBY AT 6PM"

On the very bottom, he notices Y/N handwriting.

"Looks like we'll finally meet. ♡ - You Know Who"

He kicks the door open.

━━━

He is still thinking about the stupid little heart when a waiter calls him to come over towards the kitchen. "Can you bring this to the front desk?"

"This isn't a drive in restaurant- you know what? I shouldn't be surprised and know not to ask stupid questions." He salutes the waiter and grabs the bag.

He stops dead in his tracks.

The front desk girl is now there, talking on the phone and writing stuff down. When she feels someone looking instantly at her, she looks up. She smiles and gives a small wave.

JJ cringes at himself and tries to not trip over his own two feet. He puts down the bag, and looks at everything and anything but her as he waits for her to finish the call. When she does, he quickly states, "Someone ordered food to get pick-up."

"Ah yes, Mr. Hough. He called saying he was carving for some of the all you can eat bread rolls."

When she says the name, it's like a lightbuld goes over his head as he remembers. He doesn't listen to the rest of what she says.

Before he can ask, the phone is ringing. "I should answer." She smiles and it makes him feel a tug in the corner of his mouth. "See you at the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah. I should go back to working too."

━━━

Your eyes go wide when the cute blondie sits next to you at the same time the manager says the meeting will begin shortly.

"Hey, how are you?" You ask after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Fine." He splits out.

"Doesn't sound like it." You cross your arms against your chest. He doesn't say anything, only rolls his eyes and takes his red snapback hat off. In the corner of your eye, you watch him pull on the loose trends.

Grabbing your bag off the ground, you open it to see what you can do to pass the time like him.

"Holy shit."

You look up at him, confused. You notice he is staring at the joke book JJ gave to you. With the way he makes eye contact with you, you can tell that he is nervous.

But why would he-

"Oh my god."

"JJ, Y/N." Both of almost get whip flash to look and listen to your manager. "Pay attention please."

━━━

You're going through all the post it's in your locker, dropping some when an arm wraps around you and your boyfriend. He kisses your cheek. "Are you ready?"

"To meet your friends? I'm kinda nervous. But you've told me so much about them that I already feel like I know them."

"Trust me, they'll say the same thing about you. Ignore the names they call you."

━━━

"You're the peanut butter to my jelly. - JJ"

"That's the cheeses thing you have ever said. Say more. - Y/N."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist: @harrysbbby @sunflowerbecca @latenitewolves @outrbank @katerosexx

[goth-girlfriend]

Good evening😬or morning or whateva :D I'm going to spoil you with a Endeavor request: Endeavor having sex with his affair and she gets pregnant but is too scared to tell him because of his past and when Endeavor finds out on accident he promises to be a good father and it turns out right :) like he plays with the baby all the time and cuddles it, super fluffy 😌

Good!.....night? It’s like 1:34 in the morning.... sooooo Good! morning! (8-24-2020) To you, you lovely person, spoiling me with such a great Endeavor Request 😌

I hope your day goes well as soon as I post this! Stay hydrated! 💦💙

💙💙❤️🖤❤️💙💙❤️🖤❤️💙💙

I couldn’t fight the tears as they started to sting along my water lines, I forced my eyes closed and tried to kick my lips, they tasted like poison and rubbed. I reached out for the countertop in-front of me. Finger shaking, just slightly as I grabbed the plastic in my hand. Three of four, say positive, the fourth didn’t give me an answer. How did this happen?!

“I know how this happen, in a very pleasurable way.....because I was being an idiot four months ago!” I scolded myself after asking my self the questions.

I swallowed and looked at my phone, it was new, Enji, bought it for me when I’d lost my old one off the roof of his car. I shuffled on my seat that were the steps to my tub. I took a deep breath, “I can’t tell him, I’ll have to leave him. I don’t want my child to go through the same things his children did.”

I stood up and started pacing the bathroom, “good plan good plan.” I lied to myself.

“Maybe I should tell him? I won’t be able to do it alone....” I stopped and looked at myself in the mirror, “No! What if.”

I felt the hot streaks running down the curves of my cheeks and jaw, but it didn’t register. I clenched my jaw and forced my eyes shut, I felt queasy, and the puking began. I stood up after kneeling for like ten minutes and rushed over to my legs mirror. I rose my hoodie, and it all made sense why I’d gained weight, if you looked hard enough, you could the bulge slowly not really, but just becoming visible, I looked bloated... maybe that’s why he never realized it.... also since it’s winter I’ve been using sweaters and hoodies much to Enji’s distaste. I laughed to myself before pouting, and placing both my hands on either side of my stomach, “I’m scared....” I swallowed the taste of fear, maybe puke, “I’ve never done this... I can’t call my parents... there not in Japan....” I fidgeted and pulled my shirt down, I heard the door bell and perked up, “Oh! My Noodles are here!”

I rushed to the door wallet in hand and ready to get my dood only to come face with Enji.

“Heeeeyyyyyy,” I poked my head out the door and looked around then poured and looked up at him, “You’re not the delivery guy.”

He gave me a look that clearly stated “Are you SERIOUS?”

“Right! You should come in before my pesky neighbor sees!” I pulled him in and looked around once more, my closest neighbor was actually about a quarter mile away, but that doesn’t matter.

“Soooooo,” I turned around and licked the door, “I didn’t expect you at all.” I smiled and fidgeted with my hands feeling sick.

“I’ve come to discuss this relationship.” His words were straight, I felt a fill run through my blood and bones, if he leaves.... what am I gonna do?

“Oh,” I nodded looked down, my voice was a whisper, “I guess say what you need.”

“I can’t keep having an affair, there are rumors rising already. My image can’t be ruined like this.”

I felt my heart pick up, my breathing felt struggled.

“I see,” I didn’t look up as I made myself take a breath feeling my heartbeat in my throat, “well, if this is it, I guess I should give back the jewelry, and other expensive gifts huh?”

“No, keep them, that’s not what I’m here for.” He shook his head eyes closed.

“Alright, is there anything else you need to say? Before you go?”

“I’m getting a divorce,” the words were like a punch to the stomach, I wasn’t the one being divorced but it definitely hit, I felt it rushing up. I rushed or my bathroom and stuffed the pregnancy tests into my hoodie pocket so Enji wouldn’t see them, I clung to the toilet shoving up the seat puked letting it all out. I was met with a tug at my hair, Enji was holding it back and fumbling with a black scrunches I’d left on my sink. He sighed as he rubbed my back, he kneeled beside me rubbing my back and handing me toilet tissue to wipe my mouth a bit that burned its wya through my nose. I took it and wiped my mouth away, I dry heaved a bit, and felt myself shaking, cold, so cold. Enji kept flushing the toilet until it was all gone, he helped me to sit on the toilet, “You’re sick.”

He sighed and closed his eyes, “Don’t move from here until I get back.”

I nodded and looked down, I let out a sigh and groaned, a divorce? He’s leaving Rei? Officially? I mean, it’s good cause this won’t be so scandalous anymore, but... it’s sudden.

I tried to stand by my thighs were shaky and weak. I paced my hands into hem and felt tears, I closed my eyes and let them fall, a new heat on my cheeks wiped them away, I looked to see Enji there, hands on my face, he could definitely crush my skull, his eyes looked sad, but his face was not showing that.

“I brought you water and some medicine to help with nausea. I don’t know what this is, but let’s get you to bed, you look tired, your cheeks and eyes are red and you look weak.” He didn’t let me answer as he gave me the medicine and stood up making his way to my room outside the bathroom and I could hear him moving the blankets.

Getting it my bed Enji told my to put my hand up, I did, he pulled my hoodie off leaving me in the tank top I wore underneath. Something fell but I don’t pay attention to what, but mostly because Enji was helping me sit, even if I didn’t want to. “You’ve already order food, I’ll wait here with you until gets here.”

He took my hand squeezed and I just nodded, the tears in my eyes, I didn’t even feel them, “So sweet.”

For a minute I forgot I was pregnant, until my phone gave a buzz, I looked ya it on the nightstand. I know the chime, it was for my period tracker, I’d neglected completely four times now. Enji didn’t read my phone simply handing it to me. I thanked him and swiped away the notification, “sleep.” He said and brought his free hand to brush my hair back, I craved his warm hand in this cold moment, “If you leave wake me up.” He nodded, and I sighed and started to shuffle in the blanket.

***

“(Y/n),” I was shook awake, I blinked a few times feeling hot in the blanket I sat and pushed it back, I stood up and just as I was about to answer, back in the bathroom.

“We should take you to a doctor.” I hugged and nodded, “yeeaaahhhh.”

“Do you have one?” He asked and looked at his phone.

“No sir.” I was honest.

I heard him sigh, “Take off that shirt,” I hear him walk away followed by some clattering. I pulled off my shirt and he brought back my hoodie, “Wear this, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

He left again and started to talk on the phone, I pouted and pulled on my hoodie after taking off my shirt, “bully, I didn’t even get my lunch.”

I walked spurns my house in the socks I just pulled on looking for my shoes, “where?” I dropped to my knees looking under the sofa, “are you?” I reached aliens and felt something.

“Shoes?” I asked and pulled out some old low sneakers that I used to wear.... once, when I tried to work out.

“It’ll work.” I shrugged and started to pull them on.

“Ready?” I answered back with “YES DADDY SIR IM READY!” I heard a heavy sigh and smiled pushing myself off the floor as he walked into the room, he held up a bag, my food.

“Get in the car.” He tossed me my keys, “No driving.” I nodded and rushed to my car and got in the passenger side and turned it on. I pulled on my seat belt and sat waiting, I huffed after literally two minutes passed.

I honked then smiled seeing Enji come into the garage, I got happy, I like car rides with Enji...kinda like a dog I guess.... he handed me the plastic bag and placed a lime soda in the cup holder, “Do NOT, open it until were on the road.” I nodded and waited, until we pulled out and took the turn.

I opened my bag and found the stir fry noddles is been craving all day, “Don’t way to much, if you puke again well have to stop and clean the car.” “Okay, got it.”

I started of eat and look out the window and indulge in the noodles. I stopped a quarter way in when I felt a shuffle in my abdomen. My food was hitting on an empty stomach, and it’s showing. I covered the food up and placed it back in the bag and tried to didn’t some soda. I finished the drink by the time we pulled up to a clinc.... a women’s clinic. I cringed at the sight. “Why here?” I asked.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable with a woman for your doctor.

“Okaaaayyyy.” I prepped myself to get out, I watched Enji get out with no hesitation, I still hesitated, until he came and opened my door offering a hand. I took it and was pulled back by my seatbelt. I laughed sheepishly and I clicked it before getting help again. We walked in and surprisingly empty, I guess the parking lot gave that away though. We walked in, Enji made me sit, he went and got the paper work from the secretary, and brought it back and I started to fill it out. I smiled as I gave back to him, and he got up and took it back. He told the nurse something and she nodded with a big smile. He nodded and came back to sit by my side. I felt nervous, and didn’t fight the bouncing of my leg, I shimmied closer to his side and leaned my head on his shoulder. A few minutes passed until they called. They took blood for vitamin checks, and muscle and bone stuff, urine for some tests, something about protein and I didn’t catch the rest. They told me to sit on the bed my doctor would be here soon. Then asked if I’d like Enji in the room or not, I nodded and said yes let him stay, I kNOW WHAT THIS IS.... maybe it won’t be so bad with someone else. A few more minutes and here she came, a short plump woman with bright eyes.

“I’m here, so tell me whats happening.” She said and didn’t even look at me, just read some papers.

“Well, I’ve been queasy, and I’ve been puking most of the day-“ I was wished by a hand on my back, “This will help you.” I watched Enji reach into his pocket and pull out a ziplock I cringed at the sight, the four tests I’d stuffed in my jacket.

The doctor took it and looked at them and laughed, “Well,” she smiled and clipped them to her board, “I’ll tell them to run the urine for a test.”

“Thank you.” Enji answered and she nodded then left.

“.......sooooooo, hows the weather up there?” I said not looking up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He didn’t look at me, just ahead at the wall. I looked around, “I was scared, that maybe, you wouldn’t want it or you know....your past... that you might... you know.....” The sigh he let out was depressing, I tried to look at him. I was hurt, out of every fight I’ve ever seen him in, I felt like maybe, just maybe, this would be the lowest I’d ever see him. “I-“ “No, don’t say your sorry,” his stare still on the floor, “I don’t blame you.... for thinking those things, if you want to leave with this child then you can do so. I just want you to know these few things before you make a choice.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, it’s weird because I’m not the one who just got emotionally wounded.

“I don’t deserve to be a father again, I know it, I understand the things I’ve done are not right. It can’t easily be forgiven. The things I’ve done can last over a life time, I’m working to fix all these things, I don’t want to hurt the one I love anymore, but I can’t stand the thought of hurting innocent people. I wanted to spend what’s left of my life with you, this is sudden, and you have the decision and freedom to decide what you think is best, but I promise you, this time, I will be the best man I can for you, and for this child. I don’t want to hurt anyone, I want to be the best I can and prove that I know what it’s like to be real father, to show I know what love really is. I won’t force you to make any decisions, and I won’t force my way into its life, I only want to do this, if you do this with me.”

I nodded and swallowed, great now IM crying. I tired to reach for his hand, “Enji.” His hand squeezed mine once I held his, “I’d love to share my life and first child with you,” I sniffled, “I don’t want my first child to not know it’s dad, so please, do everything you can to be there for us.”

***

“ILL,” I grunted and squeezed the hand burning my flesh, “I promise,” I let out a deep breath, “I’ll show you pain when this is over.” I took a few labored breaths, squeezing his hand, I pulled my hand out of his and took of my new wedding ring, “hold this it’s about to hurt us both once this head starts coming out.” I hissed feeling a sharp pain and then I felt it, it felt like a poop you can’t hold it, it dropped lower and “Alright Mrs.Todoroki, it’s crowning, so just give us a nice push-“

I flexed my lower abdomen and stopped when he said, I took breath, and clenched to Enji’s hand making sure to not squeezed my lower muscles in pain to avoid excessive bruising, “1...2...3... and push.”

I pushed again feeling pressure leaving my inside and pouring out of me, “Breathe,” the Doctor said and she looked up at me, “Someone has definitely been doing their workouts, this is going very quick and smooth.” She disappeared behind my legs and said “Last one,” a paused that felt like an hour, “Push-“ crying filled the room, “It’s a boy! Congratulations! Would you like to cut the umbilical cord Mr.Todoroki?” I let go of his hand but he hesitated, I nodded at him with a smile, the blood drained from him when he saw what everything looked like down there, he took the scissors and quickly cut before coming back to my side, “Placenta is coming.” She sis do felt another wave of pressure leaving me stomach, and I heard a wet plop, and a metallic sound. I shivered but quickly recovered when my necked son was placed on my now bear chest, I held him close and cried, he was a bit bloody still but I was so happy. The tears started falling as I hugged his gently and kissed his head of already bright red hair. “Precious, boy.” I said and gen’s got tried to rub some stuff off his face, he quickly attached to my breast and started to suckle,t tears didn’t stop as I looked up at Enji, he was wiping his own eyes.

“Have you thought of any names? Or should we wait a while?” The doctors said replacing her gloves and smock. “Well,” I looked up at Enji, “Things worked out, so? How about it?”

The doctor looked between us and Enji took the pen and notepad a nurse was holding, he wrote down the name and they nodded and took it, “Well then, I’ll leave you two with him a while longer until your pain has subsided and then we’ll take him to be weighed, and a few other things.”

We nodded and she smiled, “Congratulations, to the both of you.” Once more, after he stopped suckling I handed him to Enji and pulled my gown up, Enji seemed so scared, the baby WASNT small, he had rolls already, and they’re beautiful, but in Enji’s hands, he’s so small. “Hello,” he whispered and tried to cradle it ashore his chest on his forearm, it’s head resting against his bicep and pec. He brought his free hand to cover its torso and side, “I’m your father, I won’t ever leave you, I won’t ever hurt you, I never want to lose you, I’ll be with you always.” Call the hormone imbalance and recent loss of my child, but I was crying, I covered my face with my hands wiping the tears away, so cute.

***

“Enji?” I peeked into my room, nothing, “Enji?” Nothing was in the babies room, “Enji-“ there he was ok his back, on the floor, baby held up in the air, in his hands. The baby was laughing and flailing his arms and kicking. It was cute, I’d bought him an endeavor themed baby onesie, and Enji was wearing his hero costume without the armor. I stayed quiet watching as he stood up, and held the baby up to his shoulder, the baby placing a fist and his cheek on his shoulder, his eyes closed as Enji held him close. “I promise, I’ll never leave you.”

***

“where is he?!” I panicked and looked for my son, who just disappeared. I ran around the house and panic rose through the round when I heard gurgling don’t DROWN PELASE DONT DROWN BABY! Bursting into the master room fight or flight on high I felt stupid seeing Enji sleeping on his back arm circled around and pulling into his side the bundle of fire and Todoroki I was panicking for. The baby cooed moving closer to Enji, I sighed, my adrenaline wearing down, it was cute, especially when Enji turned to his side to hug our son to his chest, and mumbled out, “I’ll become someone you’ll be proud of, someone you can count on always.”

🤍🤍💙❤️💙🤍🖤🤍💙❤️💙🤍🤍

Support a small business?

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

reputations

summary: you’re criminally good, and Matt can’t help but fall in love with you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.7k

note from the writer: I really wrote this in one night, immediately after posting my last Matt fic. I might have a problem. lmk what you think!

part two

Matthew knew he was no angel. If it wasn’t the opposing players he pested on a daily basis, it was the media that told him so. Most of the time, he didn’t mind. Fights, penalties, and suspensions—he couldn’t help but agree that he was a pest on the ice. He knew he deserved some of the shit he got, but he was getting better and growing as a player.

But sometimes he wished he had a better reputation.

“Matt, your girlfriend is outside.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts. Matt hated that he knew who Brady was talking about. Despite the fact that it had been seemingly forever since he was in an actual relationship, Brady’s tease made perfect sense to the entire Tkachuk family.

“Shut up.” Matt shot back, because he couldn’t argue, and he was too busy getting up off the couch and heading outside to listen to the jabs his brother was throwing at him. He was too far gone and had long since admitted that to himself.

The summer sun beat down on him the moment he stepped into the backyard, and he took a moment to squint his eyes to adjust before heading over to the fence separating his backyard from the one next door. Brady had been telling the truth, the one girl he couldn’t get off his mind since middle school was outside and the wide smile that grew on his face was one he couldn’t help.

You were as good as they came. Weekends spent volunteering at animal shelters, tutoring, helping the older couples in the neighborhood with yard work and other chores. He was pretty sure the moment he decided he wanted to marry you was when you had shown up to Taryn’s first varsity field hockey game with a giant sign saying something about how she would kill it just because you knew it would make her laugh.

Matt nearly tripped when he spotted you on the other side of the fence. You were suntanning in nothing more than a bikini, laying on a towel in the grass in your own backyard. For what seemed like the millionth time in his lifetime, Matt thanked whatever higher power that was up there that his family moved into the house next to yours all those years ago.

For a second, he stayed quiet, just admiring how good you looked. Sunglasses were perched on your nose as you laid on your back, arms tucked behind your head. Your music was playing softly from the speaker laying in the grass a few feet away and you were humming along quietly. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face as he studied you, resting his forearms along the top of the fence with his chin tucked on top of his hands. He knew he needed to make his presence known, figuring he wouldn’t be able to explain why he kept quiet and watched you tan without sounding like a creep.

“I’ve been home for two days and you haven’t come see me yet?” He teased, his grin growing two sizes when he spotted how you lit up at the sound of his voice. Your smile was infectious, and it was the only thing keeping his gaze north of your chest as you sat up on the towel.

“Matty!” You cheered, pushing your sunglasses to the top of your head. You were the only person that Matt allowed to call him that, and he was certain that if his teammates ever found that out they would never let him hear the end of it. You stood up, making your way towards Matt and he could feel his heart pounding faster in his chest as you got closer. It was a miracle you hadn’t managed to kill him yet.

“How’ve you been?” Matt found himself asking, though the question felt a little pointless. He knew how you had been, you texted daily and even the stuff you didn’t tell him—which was a rare occurrence—he found out from his siblings.

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You said boredly, waving a hand dismissively. Matt knew that wasn’t true, he could see the smile you were suppressing. Plus, all of his conversations with you as of late had been about one thing.

“Congrats on graduating, by the way.” Matt wasn’t sure it was possible, but your smile widened as he spoke. You looked happy, but that didn’t stop the feeling of guilt that was bubbling inside him. “Sorry I couldn’t make it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You squeezed his forearm from where it was resting on the fence, and it took all of Matt’s willpower to not melt under your touch. “You were busy chasing the cup, and I know for a fact that you’ll win it for me next time.”

And then you jokingly winked at him, and suddenly Matt forgot how to breathe. He knew you were teasing, but the fact of the matter was that he knew if he was going to win the cup for anyone besides his parents, it was you.

“And besides, you’re coming to my grad party, right? I need someone there to save me from my relatives asking about where I’m working in the fall.” You continued, and for the second time in ten minutes Matt had been interrupted from his thoughts.

“You don’t already have seven jobs lined up?” Matt teased you. For as long as he could remember, you were always ten steps ahead of everyone. He distinctly remembers you stressing out at eleven years old because you got a seventy-five on a test and thought it would go on your permanent record and you wouldn’t get accepted into college.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, nudging his arm playfully as the both of you chuckled. Matt felt a bit repetitive, thinking about how beautiful you were. He was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot, but he couldn’t help himself. His self-control was low to begin with, but throw you into the mix and he was absolutely done for. “I’ve applied to a few places, interviewed at some. I’ve got my eye on one place, though.”

“Any places I know?” Matt was a little caught off guard since he hadn’t heard about you applying. He knew you were looking into some places, some in St. Louis and some out of state, but he didn’t realize you started taking the next step. A nervous look flashed in your eyes, and Matt wondered what could have prompted it, but as soon as it was there, it was gone, and you were back to smiling brightly at him.

“And ruin the surprise when I finally land one of the jobs? Not a chance, Hotshot.” You teased with a shake of your head. Matt knew you like the back of his hand. He knew how you liked your coffee and that you hated when he got into fights. He knew that you were a romantic and that you were a little self conscious about your laugh because when you were fifteen and Danny Baker from three streets up told you he thought it was weird. That was the closest he ever got to punching someone off of the ice—and sometimes he still thought about giving the guy a piece of his mind.

And he knew that the nickname ‘Hotshot’ was your way of trying to deflect, and he knew enough to drop the subject. Not that he had a choice, really, because your phone started buzzing from where you left it on your towel. When you bent down to pick it up, he busied himself by admiring the flowers he knew you helped your mom plant instead of blatantly checking out your ass.

“Hey. Matty, I’ve got to go. Mrs. Henderson asked if I could help her with the bake sale for her son’s soccer team.” You spoke up after checking your phone. Matt couldn’t help the way his heart flipped at the fact that you were still volunteering for families around the neighborhood. The only time he could remember actually volunteering, not including Flames events, was when he needed to fill his high school requirement to graduate.

God, you were too good for him.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at the party tomorrow.” He waved as you retreated into your house. He watched as you left, only pushing off the fence and heading back into his own once you shut your back door. He made his way into the kitchen, finding his whole family already in there and looking at him with smug grins. Matt just knew they had been watching his entire interaction with you out of the kitchen window.

Brady was the first to speak up, making obnoxious kissing noises while Taryn started saying your name in increasingly higher pitched voices trying to mock how gone he was for you. He rolled his eyes at his sister, but that didn’t stop him from putting Brady into a headlock.

“If you boys break something…” His mom trailed off, giving her boys a pointed look over the glass of water she was sipping on. The empty threat was enough to get Matt to let go of his brother, but not before messing up his hair for that extra bit of pettiness.

“Leave Matt alone, he’s in love.” His dad teased, looking much too proud of himself at his comment for Matt’s liking. He groaned, dropping his back to further prove his annoyance before he grabbed a drink out of the fridge and left the room.

He still couldn’t argue his family’s comments.

Matt didn’t see you again until it was time to head over for your graduation party, and it took everything in him to not stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you across the yard. You were talking to a few of your extended family members, he was sure he had met them once or twice over the years, and you looked effortlessly stunning. You were wearing a new sundress, he was certain of that because if you had worn it before he would have remembered, what with the way it made your legs look, especially paired with what he knew were your favorite pair of wedges.

Brady knocked into his shoulder, sending him a smirk before slipping off to find a drink. Matt rolled his eyes at his brother, letting his attention fall back to you. His breath hitched as you turned to face him, and he wondered if you felt the weight of his stare. He didn’t have much time to ponder, though, because he recognized the look in your eyes. It was the one that told him those were the family members you told him you’d need rescuing from.

He crossed the lawn quickly, smiling warmly at your mom when she called his name and waved. He’d greet her properly later, you were his current priority. You were his priority all the time, if he was being honest with himself.

“Hey, Matty.” You smiled and as soon as he got close enough your arm slid around his back. He copied your action, his hand settling a respectable distance up on your waist. Before he could stop himself, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, even though he probably shouldn’t be so blatant in his affection in front of distant family.

“Is this a boyfriend?” Your—great aunt?—questioned. Matt felt his face flush at the idea, he spent the better part of his adolescence imagining what it would be like to call you his. But he never could get himself to make a move. Too nervous to lose you and too worried about what moving away would do to your relationship—if it even got that far.

And then there was the problem of his reputation.

He had grown up watching you do all these amazing things for your education and to help other people. You always had a smile on your face and cried for an hour at the ending of Marley and Me. You even volunteered to help move Brady to Boston when he left to go play hockey there.

He pushed around six ounces of vulcanized rubber on ice. In his mind, he didn’t measure up to you in the slightest. As much as he wanted you, he felt as if he didn’t deserve you.

“No, this is just Matt, he lives next door.” You explained sweetly and Matt forced a smile on his face as he shook hands with your relatives. He hated how terrible your words sounded to his ears, how he was ‘Just Matt’ to you.

“Hey, Taryn said she needs to talk to you, it’s urgent.” Matt lied after a few moments of watching you squirm under the interrogation your relatives were putting you through. From the mischievous look in your eyes he could tell you knew what he was doing. You politely told your relatives that you would see them later, and Matt’s heart jumped in his chest as you slipped your hand into his to pull him away.

“Thank you.” You said to him under your breath, giving his hand a squeeze before dropping it as you reached the drink coolers. Matt grinned at you, watching as you pulled out two beers for the both of you. “They hit me with questions about my love life, job prospects, and whether or not I’ll be moving out of my parent’s house before you arrived.”

“Sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Matt teased, taking a sip out of his bottle while watching you shudder playfully. He tried to ignore the green monster that settled in his stomach at the thought of you having a love life, no matter how selfish it sounded. Instead, he focused on the way you smiled at him, and how warmly you interacted with his mom when she came over to give you a celebratory hug.

Seeing you laughing with his mom was doing nothing for the feelings he had harboured for you.

By the time darkness started to settle on the party, the majority of the guests had left. Besides your parents, him and his siblings, and a few of your cousins that were spending the night, your backyard was empty. Your dad had started a campfire so everyone could make s’mores, and you seemed to think it was the best part of the day. You were probably feeling the effects of the beers you had been sipping on, though you only had one or two, and tried to feed Matt a s’more, giggling uncontrollably when you got marshmallow in the scruff of his beard.  

He just about died when you flicked your finger across his chin to collect the marshmallow, absentmindedly licking it off as you laughed at something Taryn said. His gaze zeroed in on your finger, and the fact that you had no idea the effect that you had on him was dizzying.

“Get a room.” Brady groaned, though he had been sitting next to Matt and spoke low enough that the parents sitting on the opposite side of the fire didn’t hear. Matt was also lucky that you didn’t hear, distracted by your phone ringing. He glanced at the screen out of habit and a little bit of nosiness, seeing that it was a number you didn’t have saved to your contacts before you jumped to your feet and retreated inside to take the call.

If he had been looking a little closer, he would have recognized that the number had an area code for Calgary.

You had been gone for a few minutes and Matt was starting to get restless. Your mom came out of the house and handed him two popsicles, one for him and one for you, so he figured you were coming back soon.

You did, and you were wearing a wide grin that made him curious. You didn’t say anything, instead you took one of the popsicles and slipped your hand into his now free one, tugging lightly to signal for him to stand up. Once more, you led him across the lawn, only this time you went around the house to the front yard, away from the prying eyes of both your families.

“What’s up?” Matt questioned as soon as you came to a stop in front of him. You were grinning up at him, and he could tell from the look in your eyes that you had news to share.

“I got a job. My top choice one, actually.” You stated as if it was something boring, like the weather. Matt beamed at you, the feeling of pride he had in you coming to the surface the same way it did whenever you accomplished something you wanted.

He wrapped you in his arms almost instantly, careful not to knock your popsicle out of your hand or get his in your hair. He held you tight to his chest, never wanting to let you go.

“Where is it?” He asked after letting you go. Your smile grew wider as he looked at you, and he raised a brow as you hesitated. The longer you stayed quiet, the more he started to panic. He knew it was selfish, but he didn’t want you to leave St. Louis. The best part of coming home during breaks or playing the Blues on their ice was the fact that he would get to see you.

“Calgary. Surprise?” You chuckled nervously, but Matt felt like he had just been told the best news. After years apart for college and hockey, you finally would be close to him again. He was ecstatic, and couldn’t help himself before pulling you into another hug,

“Surprise is right.” He teased as soon as he moved back, though he couldn’t get himself to go far. He was practically buzzing with excitement and the closer he was to you the better he felt. You were grinning, shifting from foot to foot and that simple action told Matt that you were anxious about something.

“But I have one more thing to share.” You said, and that worried Matt once more because he could hear the nervousness in your tone. Matt nodded, unable to get himself to form words in response and instead let his mind run wild with all the ideas about what it could be. “Matt, I, uh, well, I’ve had feelings for you for a while, and I think you feel the same, well at least I hope you do, and I was kind of hoping that we could start something now that we’ll be living in the same place.”

Matt felt like passing out. Out of all the dozens of things you could have said, that was not one of them. He watched, wordlessly, as you licked the popsicle out of nerves and the need to busy yourself somehow while he stayed quiet after your confession. That seemed to spur him on, though, because he used his free hand to cup your jaw as his lips landed on yours.

You tasted like grape popsicle and chocolate, and though it was an odd combination he decided it was the best thing he’d ever had. He briefly registered that the popsicles slipped from both your hands as you gripped each other, and he knew that he’d have to pick them up after because you had drilled into him the importance of keeping the Earth clean when you were in eighth grade and went through a sustainability kick.

It was that thought that had him stilling. He couldn’t do this to you, not when you were so good and not when he was in the press every other week for being the very opposite. You deserved better than him, a philanthropist that donated all their time and money to children’s hospitals—the charity he knew you volunteered at, at least three times a year.

You were too good for him.

“Is something wrong?” You questioned him, dropping from your tip-toes back to your flat feet, putting some distance between you and him. It wasn’t enough to defog Matt’s head but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t happen for weeks, not with the way his entire body felt on fire from just your one kiss.

“I can’t do this… I can’t do this to you.” Matt settled, though he hated the way he sounded so unsure of himself and he hated the very fact that he even had to say it. He hated that you felt the same way he did but he couldn’t do a thing about it because he had always put you before himself. But most of all, he hated how your face fell and your eyes started to get glassy.

“Do you not like me?” You questioned and if Matt wasn’t so defeated by the whole situation he would have laughed. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t like you, you plagued his thoughts on a daily basis and he had a framed photo of you and him from his first game in Calgary in his apartment that earned him so many chirps from his teammates. But you looked so proud of him, and you were wearing his jersey, so no matter what the boys said he kept it up—the photo was his most prized possession.

“No, that’s not it. That’s not it at all.” He told you, and somehow your face fell even more. Even when you were so clearly upset, the way your brows tugged together in confusion and the slight pout to your lips was devastatingly attractive to Matt.

“Then what is it?” Your question sounded so tired, so weak, that Matt wished he had never followed you out front and never put your friendship in the position it was. But it was too late now, he couldn’t back out now and he had to stick to his guns. He took in a shuddering breath, one hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear before he said what he felt he had to.

“I want you to be happy, and you can’t be happy with me. I’m not good for you.”

[starrysebastians]

Tis the damn season

Summary : On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other. I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help? 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count : 11k 

Warnings : general sadness, mentions of death and strained family relationships, but holiday fluff to make up for it.

A/n : this was written for @wonderlandmind4​'s fall winter challenge, thank you for hosting this! (Got carried away with the word count while simultaneously having no inspiration and writing utter shit I'm genuinely sorry about this?????) 

"God I hate this damn season and everything about it."

The sound of pebbles aggressively kicked by your foot is drowned out by the driver's door being slammed shut. It echoes around the empty street, morning fog still lingering in the air even in the early afternoon. A white cloud escapes your lips as you sigh, emptying all of your lungs' air before breathing in once again, and your eyes follow the shape — up, up, until it vanishes into the air and you are left staring at a familiar bay window. The curtain moves before you can even begin to turn your gaze away and a curse escapes your lips.

"Think they saw us?" His tone is dripping with irony.

Bucky is leaning against the car, arms crossed against his broad chest and his face as blank as your mind when you try to think about why you chose to do this. In the small moment of contemplation you were having, you didn't even notice him walk around the car and stand next to you.

"Nah, impossible," you say deadpan as a hand waves behind the glass. You stare at it silently before you talk again."We can still make a run for it." 

You don't move as Bucky pushes himself off the car and opens the trunk, bags all held in his metal hand. The trunk slams shut and he is already crossing the road leading to the front lawn. 

"I was being serious!" You call out, huffing when he turns around and glares at you. 

Throwing up your arms and letting them fall back at your sides with a heavy sigh, you begrudgingly lock the car and walk towards the house — it seems so much smaller to you now. 

"Of course they put Christmas decorations literally everywhere," you mutter under your breath, suddenly feeling a wave of holiday hatred hitting you at full speed.

Bucky eyes you for a second before knocking on the door, a horrified expression distorting your features when the word wait doesn't get to be voiced out loud. His eyes are more grey than usual, matching the sky, and they hold a twinkle of amusement at the sight of you, mouth open and eyes looking up at the sky as if some sort of alien could possibly appear and whisk you far away from here.

It's intriguing, seeing you this way — in your hometown, nervous about spending Thanksgiving with your parents. Nervous isn't the right word though, because he thinks he has never seen you nervous before ; there are actually a lot of emotions he hasn't seen you display yet. Not that he has a reason to, actually, because he only sees you when you are visiting Sam at their new headquarters, or when you are helping out on a mission. So really, he has only seen you laughing at Sam's jokes, or being angry at armed criminals. And what is left between those two extreme moods are mostly you being silent or passive-agressive — although the passive-aggressiveness is reserved for him, he has noticed.

"Y/N!" Your mother's voice makes you want to wince and you purse your lips, a poor attempt at smiling. Bucky had stepped behind you after having knocked on the door and you are at the forefront of every attack. 

Arms feel strange and foreign around you, a warmth you are not used to anymore. You can't really feel your hands as you awkwardly reciprocate the gesture, patting your parents' back as your gaze rests upon the staircase, so many memories rushing to your mind at once.

"Hi," you say simply, taking a step back and crossing your arms. You clear your throat, leaning closer to Bucky, your arm brushing his. This is what a regular person would do, right? "This is James." 

You don't really pay attention to the way your mother's arms engulf Bucky — poor guy. Their voices are just noise to you as you step around them and walk to the living room. We have been dying to meet you. Y/N has been keeping you hidden from us for so long. We are so glad to have you here, James. Slow and careful steps, eyes taking it all in — the green walls, the fireplace, the old rug and the stains you've made, the painting you've always found disturbing. It smells just the same. You run your hands across every surface, fingers lingering on cold wood.

"It's a good thing that you're here early. I'll show you to your room and you can settle in, rest a little." You turn around lazily, lids heavy with the weight of nostalgia and old visions. Your mother's hand is resting on Bucky's forearm, probably because his shoulder was out of reach, and he looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wonder if he is uncomfortable being touched like this by your parents or if it is something else. "You must have had a long ride." 

Bucky opens his mouth and you cut him off before he can even begin to utter a single word, eyes boring into his with a warning. 

"We did. Exhausting. Lots of traffic." You have faked enough yawns in your life to fool even your own parents — then again, how long has it been since they last saw you? And it takes little effort to conclude that you and Bucky will rest in your room for a while before coming down and helping with dinner preparations. 

The stairs creak under your feet and you smile a little at the sound. Your room smells like old wood, rays of light playing with dust particles around you. An old fluffy carpet, pastel tones and white walls, very few decoration. Some pictures — pictures of artists you used to like, empty postcards, not personal ones. These ones have been taken off the wall years and years ago.

The mattress dips under your weight as you slump down on your bed, fingers moving on their own to stroke a soft blanket. Bucky closes the door behind him, eyes lingering on the almost empty walls. The thought of you and him in your old room and sharing your bed finally crosses your mind.

"M’gonna go for a walk," you suddenly say, getting up from the bed in a swift movement. You don’t walk towards the door, but towards the window instead. 

"O...kay," Bucky drawls out. He watches as you open the window, grunting as it requires some forceful pulling. "Is this a secret code for...I’m gonna jump out the window and die so I can avoid my parents?" 

You snicker, closing your eyes and breathing in as the icy air finally hits your face. Tendrils of hair fly around your features and tickle your skin. You turn around, fingers putting your hair back into place, strands tucked behind your ears.

"I wish," you almost don’t add anything, but Bucky looks so utterly lost and confused as you throw a leg outside that you have to. "I used to sneak out of here all the time. It’s safe, there’s a big ledge and then I land on the guest room's balcony." 

"When are you getting back?" He only asks, pushing his body off the wall and going to sit down on the spot you were occupying just a minute before.

"In time. Don’t worry," this time you’re fully out of the room, feet expertly walking on the ledge. "If they knock just say I’m asleep." You stop in your tracks, voice louder. "And don’t go through my stuff. I’ll know and I’ll kill you."

*

Bucky’s still sitting on the bed when you get back, your hair slightly damp and frizzy from the humidity and the small drizzle outside. Cheeks and nose reddened by the cold and eyes brighter now that you have breathed in some fresh air, that isn't the air from New-York, something purer with a familiar smell. 

"I’ve been gone two hours. Please tell me you’ve got up at least once," you mock, bending down to untie your shoelaces and avoid making mud stains all over the carpet. This floor has suffered enough over the years. 

"No. I’ve been sitting there waiting for you like the good dog that I am." His voice dripping with sarcasm, you roll your eyes. "Told them you were asleep and blocked the door in case they wanted to check on you." 

You raise your head slowly, squinting at him. 

"So...you talked to them?"

He stares back with a bored expression. 

"Yes. I’ve talked to them. I'm spending Thanksgiving with them and sleeping in their house, so I figured maybe I could behave like a civilized person and say hi, you know." You blink. "Plus, I'm your boyfriend." You blink again.

"You didn't have to talk to them so soon. We've got all night," you mumble, now going for your socks.

"I've endured far worse than having a full conversation with someone's parents, Y/N," he chuckles and your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

"Right." 

Bucky looks at you, really looks at you. Hands going through your hair and gripping it a little too tight as you try to weave your fingers through knots and tangled strands — wind still raging outside. Dark shadows under your lashes from having rubbed your eyes in exhaustion and forgetting you had mascara on. Jaw ticking every now and then as your eyes bore into an empty spot, and he doesn't know if you are staring at an actual object or at something that only exists in your mind.

"Have they asked anything about us?" You say, sitting down on the floor and next to your travel bag.

"The usual. How we met, how long we’ve been together…that sort of thing."

Your stomach twists and you look up, alarmed.

"Oh god. What did you tell them? I forgot to make something up. We should have discussed this in the car, I just forgot." You run your hands through your tangled hair, again. "Fuck."

"It’s okay," Bucky’s eyes follow your every move as you rummage through your bag to find another top, fingers pulling on a soft black fabric. "I told them we met through Sam. And obviously they knew who he was — who I was, so I assumed they knew about you too." There’s an interrogation in his voice and you simply nod in confirmation. "So we talked about our jobs, mostly."

"Exciting," you comment sardonically. "And how long have we been dating?"

"Told them we started dating before the snap." 

You freeze, hands still resting on your black top, a slightly sheer and shiny material you thought would be more festive.

"So…definitely more than five years," you start, and he nods in response. "And...that means I visited Wakanda, right?"

He thinks for a second. 

"Right. Yeah."

You hum again.

"Not very practical. I’ve never been to Wakanda."

"Now you have a problem with accuracy?"

You glare at him. 

"No. Just saying. We could have met in New-York. Would have been simpler. That's all."

"Right. Two months ago and it was love at first sight so you’re already bringing me home to your parents — whom you haven’t seen in years. Makes sense." You clench your jaw and he raises a brow, sparkling blue eyes taunting you.

Glaring at him one last time, you turn around and face the wall.

"First of all, we didn’t meet two months ago," you start undoing the buttons of the cardigan you are wearing. "I'd definitely remember if I had only been enduring your presence for two months." He scoffs behind you. 

You pull your cardigan over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room. Some deodorant and you grab the festive top. Bucky stares at your back for a second, soft skin covered in small beauty spots and old scars, defined muscles in action grabbing his full attention. Your neck, the way your hair brushes up your shoulders, the glimpse at your breasts and the curve of your waist — he focuses his gaze on the window instead. An afternoon sky blanketed by dark grey clouds, a promise of rain and a mirror of what he guesses is an internal turmoil.

"And?"

"And what?" You face him again, fitted dark fabric clinging to your body.

"You said first of all. I’m assuming there’s a second part." Brow quirked and smirk slowly lifting the left corner of his mouth, he watches your face fall. 

"There isn’t," he nods, full mocking smile on his lips now. "I actually like using first of all knowing there’s nothing else I have to add. It’s a figure of speech."

He scoffs, shaking his head. 

"It’s not."

"It is now," you stand up, brushing your hands against your thighs. You are now dressed in all black and it looks like you are going on a mission. You are, somehow. "Are you gonna change for tonight?"

"What, is it that ugly?" Bucky looks down at his outfit. 

Fitted blue sweater and black jeans with dark combat boots. You know he had cut his hair right after...everything, but it has grown out again and you’re surprised to find curls. You don’t notice him looking up, instead keeping your eyes fixed upon the blue of his sweater and the way it hugs his chest. He clears his throat and you meet his gaze — curious.

"No, it’s not," you force a smile. "It’s very nice, actually. Brings out your eyes." You sigh, turning around and grabbing your toilet bag and makeup. 

"I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not right now," Bucky frowns. Isn’t it part of the job description to know whether people are being genuine or not? Aren’t spies supposed to know that kind of thing? He never can tell with you. Everything you say has that kind of monotonous tone and it's either ironic or deadly serious. 

You let out a light chuckle as you enter the bathroom. "I’m not making fun of you, Barnes. Blue looks good on you." 

You stare at your reflection for a second. Pale skin and dark circles, the remnants of a fight barely visible because your hair is hiding the last remaining scar. The door to the bathroom was left open and you catch Bucky’s gaze in the mirror. 

He busies himself with his bag, going through his stuff and deeming perfume to be the only necessary adjustment to his current state. Fingers scratching an unshaven throat, he calls out your name, meeting your eyes again in the mirror. You only hum.

"Should I call you babe for the weekend?"

Your hand halts mid-air, makeup brush just a few centimeters away from your skin.

"What?"

"Well. We’re selling this thing. What about PDA, that sort of thing?"

You laugh again, and this time it sounds really genuine to him. High and full of disbelief. 

"Didn’t think you were familiar with the term PDA," you shake your head to yourself while he rolls his eyes. "But to answer your question — " you turn to look directly at him, complexion brighter and cheeks rosier. "— call me babe and you won't live to see another day. "

"Why have someone pretend to be your boyfriend if you're just gonna act like he's your friend?"

"Barnes. You think you have to exchange saliva with me in front of my parents for them to believe we’re together? Me bringing you here is already huge, trust me." 

He stares at your back. Dropping the subject. 

"Should I shave?" You don't need to look at him to answer confidently.

"No. I love a man with a stubble."  

You finish your makeup in silence as he lays on the bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the dinner that awaits him. He is curious about you and your family. Not a lot of people in this field still have their parents, or at least are being honest about what they do for a living. But mostly he is curious about you, someone he has been getting used to working or training with, but not holding casual conversations or doing simple things.

*

A week earlier 

Bucky raises a brow as Sam answers his phone. It’s eight in the morning and they just returned from their morning job, among fog and drizzle, the sun slowly rising over New York City and filtering through Central Park's trees and half-empty branches. It is not as cold as it should be for this time of the year, but he can still feel the early morning air biting at his face, even inside the apartment. Sometimes after a run he has breakfast with Sam, when they haven’t bickered so much on the way over that Bucky decided to run home instead. 

"I cannot deal with this amount of bad energy in the morning. Come over," Sam laughs and Bucky stares at his mug of coffee while his mind goes though every possibility. 

And when Sam opens the door and you step in, he goes back to staring at his mug, only watching your every move from the corner of his eye. You do look agitated for someone who probably woke up less than an hour ago. 

"I can’t." The new Captain America shakes his head and you grab him by the shoulders, hands looking so small. 

"Sam. I wasn’t asking. This is not an option." 

"We’re having a Thanksgiving dinner at the VA, I can’t ditch the guys," he says and you groan, head thrown back. 

You plop down on a bar stool, the one across Bucky, and you only nod at him as a hello. He rolls his eyes — typical. He is hunched over the kitchen counter, plate of pancakes drowned in maple syrup placed in front of him. You stare as he picks up his fork and knife and starts eating, following every mouthful with empty eyes.

He almost opens his mouth to snap at you before you slightly shake your head and turn to the window to your left. The beginning of fall doesn't feel like it is supposed to — yellows and oranges and reds could be a palette of grey and you wouldn't even notice the difference. It's not the same anymore.

"Why do you absolutely have to bring someone anyway?" You sigh as Sam asks.

"They think I have a long-time partner."

"Why would they think you have a long-time partner when I've never even seen you hold a conversation with a guy?" Bucky comments.

"First of all, you've been gone five years. I'd shut up if I were you." You scowl, lips almost curling up in anger when you whirl around to glare at him. "Second of all, you're not exactly a god in that area either." 

"Well I have been gone for five years, I've got an excuse," he shrugs with a smirk and you eye the table where they are sitting at, pastries and pancakes, fruits and hot beverages, full glasses. "Throw that glass of water at my face and I'll kill you." 

You hold his gaze for a second and purse your lips, eyes turning away as you sit down and rest your elbows on the wooden surface, permanent frown etched on your face. 

"They think they've missed five years of my life, I had a moment of…weakness. Didn't have the heart to tell them I was still single." You look out the window again. The wind howls loudly and a chill runs across your spine even though you're perfectly warm inside. "I think I'm gonna say he died." 

You don't pay attention to the small beat of silence that follows your sentence — a silence that is interrupted by Bucky's fork scratching against his plate. You scowl at him. 

"You're gonna say what now?" 

You shrug at Sam.

"Then I don't have to explain why we broke up. And since I will spend years recovering my mom won't think of bothering me with boyfriend talk for a while." Which seems like a rather logical and practical plan to you, underserving of such funny looks.

"You can't just make up someone and then say they died, Y/N."

"I don't see why not. A lot of people have died recently, I can easily get away with it." The way you speak and shrug, it's all innocent and casual, but your words leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look and stare at each other for a second as if a simple blink was enough for them to communicate their exact thoughts. You almost feel jealous.

"Just take someone else. I’m sure some of your friends have nothing to do on Thanksgiving."

Something heavy settles on your chest as you think of the people you would have loved to take home to your parents. Tony would have been impressive — albeit older and, well, married with a child. But your parents would have been starstruck. And Natasha would have seduced them right away. One foot into the threshold and they would have swooned at her feet, hanging onto her every word. Steve would have made the perfect boyfriend — the ideal american sweetheart, thoughtful and selfless, not the kind of person who would let you down. Not the kind of person who would leave everything behind. 

When your silence has stretched for a little too long, you clear your throat, tightening your hold around a steaming cup of tea that you assumed was meant for you. Sam is now sitting next to you and you hadn't even realized he had moved while contemplating how lonely your life was. Bucky is staring at you with an unreadable expression and you shrug, again.

"I don't really have anyone else to bring. But that's okay. I'll stick to my story," you give Sam a woeful smile. "They'll think I'm sad and avoid annoying me for the whole evening so really I couldn't ask for a better story." 

You stretch your arm in order to reach the plate of pancakes, but your fingers barely graze it. Bucky silently pushes it towards you and you simply purse your lips. It looks like a smile, right? Drowning your pancakes in syrup just like he did five minutes ago, you sit up straighter and exhale. Then your tone changes. "Anyway."

Sam crosses his arms and nods at Bucky. Blue eyes fixed upon the dark-skinned man’s face, he already knows. 

"Bucky doesn’t have anything planned for Thanksgiving," he starts and you keep chewing. "You should take him. I’m told he’s great boyfriend material." 

You slowly look up, skeptic look on your face. 

"I feel like you could sabotage me at dinner and I do not want that. The whole thing’s annoying enough as it is." 

He shrugs. Too bad. Sam’s eyes are getting bigger and bigger and Bucky sighs, setting his fork on the counter and leaning back. The leather squeaks under his weight and he clears his throat. The noise makes you raise your head and you look at him curiously. 

"I’ll behave." 

You stay silent for a little while as Bucky raises his eyebrows expectantly. Is he better than making up someone and then saying they died? You think about it, and the chance of your mother not leaving you alone and looking at you with pity instead suddenly crosses your mind. Not good. Not your plan.

"Okay," you resign. Your pancakes don’t taste as good as they did before you said yes. Bucky and you have probably exchanged ten full sentences ever since you met, and they weren’t necessarily sweet. It is not that you don’t get along or fight — you work well together, actually. But he’s not your friend either. And sometimes, most of the time, you can’t help but feel something akin to anger build up in your chest when you look at him and see Steve instead. 

*

The table is pretty. Red and green, matching the decorations hung upon the fireplace and all over the house. Candles and elegant wine glasses. Christmas tree already up in the back of the living room, which you can still see from your spot at the table. The flickering lights and glittering garlands are a welcomed distraction to the people actually sitting in front of you, and you can't even remember the last time you had dinner with your parents. So formal.

You notice your mother stealing a glance at you before she fully turns her body towards Bucky. Fuck. You try to shoot her a warning glance but her sweet smile is already into place and there is nothing you can do except watch. You knew appetizers and amuse-bouches and your comments about their incredible taste would not be enough to keep the conversation from turning more personal, but you didn't think it would be so soon.

"You know, this is the first Thanksgiving Y/N is spending with us." Bucky quirks a brow and you scoff in disbelief.

"This isn't true. I have distinct memories of yelling and burnt turkey. Where else would that be?" You deadpan, hand moving towards your glass before stopping mid-air, a single drop of red wine left starring back at you. 

You hold back a groan, eyes flickering between the glass and the bottle. Should you maybe wait before getting a refill and not get any comments from your parents? 

"I meant, this is the first Thanksgiving you're willingly spending with us. You were sixteen last time," your mother's voice holds the same irony, but hers is sad while yours sounds angry. Bucky steals a quick glance at you without ever moving his head, and smiles sweetly at your mother, as if trying to make up for your attitude. "Are you still in touch with your parents, James?"

"Oh god," you groan, hand on your forehead. "Mother." 

You decide that possibly getting a comment about your drinking habits is worth it if drinking means not feeling this crushing weight of shame, embarrassment, and everything else. Bucky looks down at your arm as it emerges right in front of him — you don't spare him a glance, fingers curling up around the bottle and the sound of wine filling up your glass grows higher and higher until you stop. Even this can't drown out the conversation. Your dad's voice echoes from the other room, footsteps drawing closer. 

"Sweetie, I think you're forgetting how old James is."

You don't watch as Bucky probably smiles softly at your dad, then at your mom, and says it's fine. Red wine is pretty when it is swirling in a moving glass — it reminds you of fall, leaves twirling in the wind, the red lipstick you're wearing, but mostly blood.

Your mother is babbling out apologies and reaching out for Bucky's hand across the table and he is being so gentle and patient it makes you want to shake him by the shoulders and yell at him for being so good to them. 

"We only heard from Y/N six months ago, actually." 

"Well, you were gone before, so," you mutter, regretting every single choice that has lead you to this moment. Bucky perks up, eyes going quickly between your closed face and your parents, eyebrows drawing in a compassionate frown. Man, is he good at this. 

"Were you both…taken by the snap?" 

You sigh, turning your head to look out the window while Bucky and your parents talk about their shared experience, finger tracing the rim of your glass over and over again. For some the light around them and their alternate universe was all blue, others say it was a sort of ethereal shade of green. Some have non memory whatsoever of the whole experience and you wonder what it would have been like for you. You think that a minute in a world on literal fire would have been better than five years in the real one. 

Natasha's world is probably made out of purple and red — you hear this is how Vormir looked. Pretty. 

The rain suddenly hitting the bay window snaps you out of your quiet moment of contemplation. It was left slightly open and the sound of the wind blowing through swaying trees lulls your for a second, eyes unfocused. 

Your name echoes around the dining room again and your gaze snaps to that of your mother. 

"What?" You say in a sigh. 

"Nothing!" Her tone is unusually high. "I was just explaining to your boyfriend how we reunited. You visiting us when everyone came back." She looks at Bucky again. "It was a big surprise."

You don’t meet his gaze, instead resting your elbows on the table and nuzzling your face in the palms of your hands. You probably should have kept being a ghost.

"A good one, I bet?" He keeps his tone light.

Your mom goes on about how they have missed you all this time and you resume playing with your glass. And maybe refill it a few times.

"Oh. We saw the ceremony you had for Steve Rogers with Captain...Captain America. It was very moving." Your dad tells Bucky with a compassionate frown and you purse your lips. You almost want to put your hand on Bucky’s shoulder — his hand, his thigh, anything to give him some sort of comfort, but you can’t bring yourself to move your own hand. Everything feels really heavy. 

In your opinion, it’s actually a good thing that Steve died so soon. He had first been a man out of time when he woke up in 2011, and managed to adapt. Even said he wouldn’t go back because the past was the past. Right. But coming back an old man, having lived another full life while your friends remain the same? This wasn’t right, for anyone. With Tony and Natasha gone, you would rather have Steve be gone as well. Can’t really move on if something is still holding you back — now they’re all definitely gone. 

Your chair scratches the wooden floor as you stand up on almost-wobbly legs. 

"M’gonna check on the turkey." Your voice doesn’t even sound like your own and your throat hurts. 

Voices are drown out as you close the kitchen door, back resting against it for a moment. The room is hot even though the window has been left open. You breathe in and out slowly, taking in the smell of pies and spices. You walk towards the window, slowly, taking it all in as you calm down. Nothing is in its usual place. Scattered utensils over every surface, traces of flour and sugar on the table and bottles which haven't been closed. Something makes you jump and it's a pan is overflowing.

There are only a few seconds left on the oven's timer. Pan situation under control, oven gloves on both hands, you think maybe cooking more for yourself would take your mind off things. You almost sigh in contentment as the warmth from the plate spreads through your hands, arms and even radiates through your chest. 

All sorts of pies litter the kitchen table, cinnamon, clove and ginger invading your senses. All of you is consumed by spices and sounds of domestic life and it looks so homey but you can't bring yourself to feel at home. This whole day has been like being in a dream, floating through life, childhood and Thanksgiving memories like an intruder. Seeing yourself move around but not being able to control or truly touch anything.

You see yourself with the turkey between your gloved-hand, red lipstick and pretty outfit hugging your body. You see yourself ten years ago, dressed in a red dress and hair cascading down your back, laughing hysterically as you set a turkey down on a large wooden table, candles lighting up your friends' eyes. Seven years ago, in that deep green jumpsuit — the color of Natasha's eyes, Tony had said all night. Six years ago, in that matching Christmas jumper and soft socks in which you kept slipping on the cabin's floor. Five years ago and the years following the snap when everything was dark and hopeless and you had lost so much but you still had Natasha and Tony and Steve.

Every single bittersweet Thanksgiving memory plays out right before your blurry eyes, like a film. A compilation of every celebration shared between loved ones, your chosen family. And it feels so lonely without your best friends and half of the team you used to be.

Your hands shake as you go to set the plate down on the kitchen table — it's greasy and slippery and your hands are starting to burn so you don't even feel the glove slowly slipping.

Fuck.

It takes a moment to be fully registered.

"Fuck!"

On the other side of the door, Bucky’s cough is enough to cover a string of colorful curses and the cracks and tears in your voice. Your hands are as wet as your cheeks and you drop to your knees, muttering shit shit and shit all over again under your breath.

The plate clatters against the floor as you set it beside the turkey. Too loud. The minute your mother enters this kitchen you are a dead woman. "Shit."

Footsteps draw closer and heavier and you curse again, hands greasy and knees hurting from hitting the tiles. Somehow your fingers won’t grasp the turkey’s correctly and it keeps slipping back to the floor. 

The door creaks open and you whirl around, eyes wide open and a strings of excuses ready. But Bucky stands here, hands in his back closing the door behind him and keeping anyone from seeing what is happening inside the kitchen. Mouth agape and tear tracks probably visible on your face, you finally close your mouth to gulp, turning your back to him and breathing in and out as quietly as possible. 

Which is probably not quiet enough for someone whose ears are more than human. 

You sniffle. Bucky stares at your back, hand still securing the doorknob. He doesn’t really know how to proceed with you, so he takes a few quiet steps forward. He clears his throat.

"I just heard a ten pound turkey hit the ground and also very strong words. Do you need help?"

This is so stupid. 

"Bucky. The turkey’s on the floor. Literally."

"Yeah. I can see that," he eyes you, gauging your expression. Your eyes are dead set on the animal and hands still hovering over it, not quite stable. "It’s okay. They won’t know. I made noise when you dropped it."

"You did?" Your voice is smaller than usual and he bats your hands away from the turkey, grabbing it with his metal hand. 

"Yeah. Coughed so hard your mom almost stood up to keep me from choking." You gape at him. He smiles at your stunned expression and the turkey is back in its plate, looking perfectly normal. Your hands are still greasy and you don't know what to do with them.

"Hey," Bucky's voice is softer than it usually is. Or maybe you never really noticed it was soft in the first place. "Look at me." 

You change positions and rest your back against a cupboard, closing your eyes for a second before re-opening them. Crouching down to your level, he studies your face as you wipe off remaining tears with your sleeve. Flushed cheeks and quivering lips, wet lashes and a crease between your eyebrows. You hold his gaze for what seems like an eternity. There is a kind of intensity, determination in his eyes as he searches into yours. You aren't sure what he is looking for — maybe he is trying to find the right words, but eventually he just sighs and fully sits down in front of you. He is probably annoyed. 

You bite down on your lip as your throat swells again, sudden shame washing over you. Having a meltdown is not something you do. Not when you are on your own, not in front of your friends and certainly not in front of a friend of a friend, even when his presence has become something usual and almost comforting to you as you hide it between rolled eyes and silence. Sometimes it's nice to visit Sam and have a trio again, even if it is not the trio you are used to. When you close your eyes and listen to the voices around you or when your vision is hazy, the mere idea of feeling surrounded is already comforting.

"M'sorry, this is stupid," you mutter, throwing your head back to have it rest against the cupboard. The bang echoes in your ears and Bucky slides a bit closer.

"It's okay," he shrugs. "Take your time." 

He is so gentle in everything that he does. It's in the way he looks at you, eyes searching into yours but never once displaying pity, as if everything was perfectly normal. It isn't to you, but he seems so relaxed and unbothered. The way he speaks softly and expresses nothing but patience and serenity, the way his flesh hand slowly moves closer to your leg and almost hovers above your skin.

You sigh, head banging against the cupboard again, and spread your legs a little bit further. The right one brushes against his limb and he hesitates for a moment. Another look at you and his hand is resting on your calf. The warmth seeps through your black jeans and at this particular moment it comes back to you that you used to love being touched.

"I can't believe I dropped the fucking turkey," you say flatly. Bucky blinks slowly at you, the only proof that he heard you. He doesn't think he should talk and break your train of thoughts right now. "This isn't…what I normally do. On Thanksgiving. I've never spent Thanksgiving here. I mean, after I moved out."

Bucky's fingers move slowly against your leg, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as you start talking. You purse your lips, somehow wanting to keep your mouth shut but feeling oddly relaxed to be sitting on the floor with his thumb brushing over your jeans-clad skin. You look down, eyes following his fingers before focusing on your own, still numbly resting at your side.

"Yeah, that's what your mom was saying earlier," Bucky nods, eying your hands as well. 

On your left, there is this hook with towels hanging from it. His arm is long enough for him to grab one without having to get up. You don't respond, instead staring at the tiles and the space between your legs. You don't seem to notice when he hands you the towel, so he slowly moves his flesh hand towards yours. The loss of warmth makes you look down to your calf, stomach dropping a little when his fingers aren't dancing on your skin anymore. 

"What do you usually do for Thanksgiving?" 

You blink. He grabs your arms, hands sliding from your forearm to your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse point longer than he should. Then his hands are cupping yours, gently turning your palms upwards. There is this small beat of silence and tension where both of you are looking at your almost intertwined hands as if you were not their owners, as if they were moving on their own and you could only watch as this unfolded before your eyes. 

Should he let go? 

"I always spend it with Natasha." Your voice breaks the moment. His gaze snaps up but you're staring into the void again. "We have this tradition." You blink. Once, twice. Slowly, kind of like a cat. "Had. We used to rent a cabin, somewhere remote and snowy, and Tony used to come as well. Well, before he had Morgan. Then we used to come to his house and have this big dinner with him and Pepper, sometimes Clint and his family." 

Your gaze drops to your hand in his, one holding it up and the other wiping the oily substance away. Every movement seems so soft and gentle it makes your brain go fuzzy for a second.

"That sounds really nice." Bucky comments softly, going for the other hand.

"Steve came sometimes," you add, and he quirks a brow in surprise. "When everyone was taken away. Sometimes he held a little something at the VA, but we had him over once or twice." You nod. "It was nice."

Bucky simply nods. Your hands don't shine with turkey grease anymore, and it physically pains him to let go of your hands. For a second he thinks you are about to hold his tighter and keep him from prying off his fingers, but his ears suddenly pick up movement, and the way his posture visibly changes makes you snap out of it. Back straighter, eyes wider, shoulders squared.

"Shit." 

He is quicker than you and stands near the door to tell your mom that the turkey’s ready — you’re on your feet again even if you have to grip the counter’s edge for a second so your legs don't give out under your weight. His body is blocking your mother's view of the kitchen and you can only hear her voice.

"Look at her, making us Thanksgiving dinner with her boyfriend," she tells your dad and you snicker. 

"Look at her making us eat a turkey she dropped on the floor!" You singsong, pressing the heel of your hands to your cheeks as you try to make the red disappear.

"Now this is girlfriend material," Bucky mocks. The door is closed again and he takes a few steps towards you, the turkey being right next to where your hand is set.

You laugh at the absurdity of the situation and he smiles. He is only a foot away from you and you wonder if the warmth you are feeling is real or if it is your imagination, your mind and chest aching for comfort again. Touch is a vicious and dangerous thing when you can still feel it linger on your skin well after it is gone.

Metal hand reaching for the plate and body almost trapping you against the counter while you fix your gaze on anything but him, Bucky freezes for a moment — he meant to grab the plate and turn around, but this does feel intimate. 

"Hey," he breaks the silence and you have to look up. In this instant, you want to take a mental picture and remember exactly how he looks. Light shining into his eyes, illuminated the tip of his perfectly carved nose and cheekbones. Pink lips parted and tongue swiping over them. Could this be nervousness?

You raise your chin, biting the inside of your cheek and fighting to maintain eye-contact. He is so close that you cannot help but being distracted by his smell, the way your chests would touch if you just pushed yourself off the counter, the way you want to feel cornered and caged if it means resting your cheek against his chest and having his arms around you.

Fuck.

"You gonna be okay?" 

You wonder if his senses can pick up your internal turmoil. If he can hear your heart hammering against your ribcage, the quickened and shaky breaths. You fold your arms and hug yourself, a poor attempt at gaining back some control over yourself.

"M'fine," you mutter. He doesn't look convinced and still hasn't moved. You lower your head, the remnants of previous haircut mistakes and bangs falling over your eyes. "Really."

"Yeah?" 

You look up again, mustering up a smile.

"Yeah. A little meltdown can work wonders for a girl." 

He chuckles and you have never wanted to kiss anyone this badly in your entire life, but you blame it on the emotional rollercoaster this day has been. You almost flinch as Bucky raises his hand but exhale as his fingers graze your cheeks, moving your hair out of your eyes.

Your mother calls your name and you sigh. Bucky brings out the turkey and you set the side dishes on the table, carefully avoiding the candles and almost squishing a green garland. It's a perfect picture, you and him stepping out of the kitchen in tandem and smiling down at your parents as they congratulate you on the turkey — this is probably a picture you had in mind as a child. Something out of a romantic comedy.

You sit down and Bucky's hands linger on your shoulders, thumbs stroking exposed skin and your neck. You raise your head, leaning back in your chair to meet his gaze. Should you put your hand on his? Should you smile and gaze lovingly at him — isn't that what you are already doing? He bents down, softly kissing your cheek, lips ghosting over your ear.

"Let's sell this thing, shall we?" 

* 

You step out of the bathroom, silky pajamas hugging your figure and wet hair sending shivers down your back. You sigh heavily, feeling the need to seek warmth but not having enough energy. Your arms are at your sides and your bare feet have a hard time moving.

Bucky stares at the carpet as drops of water trickle down your hair and slowly form a dark spot at your feet. His gaze travels back to your face, eyebrow quirked. You look absolutely drained, with your lips slightly parted and the way you blink slowly, as if your eyelids weighted tons.

"If they ask us to stay for lunch tomorrow," you begin, slowly approaching the bed. "Please say we have a mission." 

Bucky gives you a small nod. You sit down on the bed or rather let your body drop unceremoniously and lay down, hands on your stomach and eyes glued to the white ceiling. The mattress moves with Bucky and you hear him rest his back on the bed's head. Creaky wood that won't stop making noise.

"Well," Bucky starts, looking down at your form. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" 

You slowly peel your gaze off the ceiling, body and face still as your gaze moves to his face, his eyes already on yours.

"I don't have the strength to answer you right now." 

His shoulder shake and so does the bed. You groan.

"Can I ask you a question?" 

"No."

"Why did you decide to contact your parents after all this time?"

"Did you hear me say no?" 

He gives you a half shrug and you sigh, rolling so you are lying on your stomach, elbows propped up on the mattress. Bucky knows this means you are going to talk, and he sits up straighter, intrigued.

"Everyone was gone," you say simply, fingers drumming mindlessly on your cheek. "It was…utter and complete chaos everywhere. You're lucky you didn't get to see it. Just to go out in the streets, enter a coffee shop and see the look on people's faces…" You don't finish your sentence, eyes fixed upon Bucky's torso but mind miles away from your room. His shoulders sag as he takes in your expression. "And I felt lucky I still had Natasha, and Steve. And Tony. I was so lucky compared to others — sometimes I helped Steve out with his therapy meetings and I just…hearing about other people's loss…I wondered about my parents, somehow. I drove all the way up here and the house was so silent and empty, I just knew." You shrug, lowering your gaze to numbly observe the patterns on your sheets. "We've never been close, and I thought I didn't care about them the way I've always felt like they didn't care about me, but when I realized they weren't here anymore…they're still my parents, you know?" Not expecting you to look up at him, Bucky is at a loss for words when you bite your lip and go silent as if you were waiting for an answer.

You swallow thickly.

"So when everyone came back, I had this urge to make sure they did too. And now we're here," you purse your lips. "Not sure this was a good idea." 

Sometimes you think contacting them was a mistake. Yes, you felt an incommensurable sense of loss, standing in this empty house with the wooden floor creaking underneath your feet, dust flying and twirling around you, your reflection staring mockingly at you whenever you passed a mirror. Too late. Visiting your childhood home was the moment it all came rushing back to you ; the moment your mind finally caught up with reality and you simply crumbled. Orphan, half of your friends turned into dust, a whole world of shades of grey and not an ounce of hope. But spending Thanksgiving here doesn't give you the comfort or closure you thought it would. Being here and feeling like a stranger in your own home, bringing a fake boyfriend, having to sit through celebrations when there is nothing left to celebrate on this earth for you.

"They looked happy to see you."

Your chest tightens for a moment. It's somewhere between guilt and longing.

"Yeah, I guess," you give him a half shrug. Your face is resting right next to his thighs and you stare for a moment. Another barely perceptible movement and the headboard squeaks again. You almost let your face fall on his thighs when heavily groaning. He laughs and it gets worse.

"Well at least it's gonna be easy to convince them we really are a couple, right babe?" He says, deadpan. You look up at him through your lashes, sly smile on your face, a force of habit. Striking blue eyes staring back at you, perfectly sculpted face and a smirk on his plump lips. It would be so easy to pretend this is a normal scene from a domestic life. The creases around your mouth disappears as you blink a sort of haze away.

The moment passes and you busy yourself with the laptop you brought, while Bucky stalks to the bathroom. The sound of water running manages to soothe you, weight on your chest slowly dwindling and breaths coming in lighter. It's a white noise lulling you to sleep. You lazily brush your hair and slide into bed, covers pulled to your chin and body stiff as the cold from the sheets seep into your bones for a long moment. 

The shower curtain rattles, bottles clink against the sink and water runs again with the sound of a toothbrush. You turn on your side, chin tucked to your chest and arms under your pillows, scared to stretch out your legs and meet a biting cold again. The bathroom door opens and you relish the very small amount of warm steam reaching you.

The bed dips and you keep your eyes closed.

"You sure you don't want me out of your bed?" You don't know how many times he has asked this question. You only hum, too tired to voice your thoughts out loud. You feel the covers being lifted and shiver — could it be his thigh brushing against yours?

His mere nearness already warms the bed up and you silently thank a higher presence for the super soldier serum.

"God you're like a personal heater," you mutter, faced squished against your pillow, body moving closer to his on its own until warmth has engulfed you and you can finally extend your legs, feet reaching the end of the bed.

"Mh, I get that a lot," you feel his chest rumble next to you and you hum in response, something between contentment and an attempt to hide a blooming sensation in your chest.

You get closer again, face now pressed against his arm, cheek to warm and toned flesh. It doesn't take long for his arm to move, a frown etched on your features before they ease up again as he guides your face to his chest. An arm snaking around your shoulders and holding you closer, a chest rising and falling with deep and even breaths, a back and forth that rocks you.

You can't even remember the last time you felt this at peace. This warm and safe, arms secured around you like a cocoon, the smell of your childhood and his cologne mixing together. And it hits your half-asleep brain that you had craved this all along, all those years of darkness and loss.

"M'sorry," you murmur, your lips moving against his chests and your words barely discernible. "Just really need this right now." 

His fingers linger on your back, hand sliding down to rest on your waist. Squeezing, thumb stroking your skin, fingers tracing random shapes. You shift, your own arm laying on his stomach, almost hugging him like a pillow or a big stuffed animal. Fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt like a reflex, legs tangling with his.

"It's okay." His voice is smooth, quiet. "Me too."

*

Eyes bleary and squinting to adjust to the light, you hold on to the banister as you wobble down the stairs. Voices echo around the living room and you frown. It's only eight.

You still as Bucky's laugh reaches your ears and hurry down the remaining steps. The morning light shines through the windows, surprisingly blue and clear skies facing you. Red and green lights dance around the living room's walls, reflections from the Christmas Tree's decoration. Lips parted in awe, you linger for a moment. The atmosphere is different from last night, it feels lighter. It's not just that the downpour has been replaced by a blue sky and what seems to be a perfect fall day — ice cold but the sun still shining. You feel lighter.

"Hey." You whirl around. You didn't notice Bucky approaching you. Coking his head to the side, he looks at you with an unreadable expression. "You planning on spending the day standing here?" 

"Tempting," you give him a half shrug, and he extends his flesh hand towards you, palm up and inviting.

"We made breakfast," he says as you rest you put your hand in his warily. 

"We?" 

The smell of bacon hits you when you enter the dining room, a table full of pancakes and pies greeting you. Steaming cups of coffee, a teapot — Bucky discreetly tugs you closer to him, hot breath on your cheek.

"You prefer tea in the morning, right?" It is whispered as not to draw suspicions towards the fact that he knows nothing about you, but it takes you a moment to recover from the initial surprise of the gesture. You nod numbly, eyes fixed upon your intertwined fingers. When did you say it was okay for PDA? 

The conversation flows more easily in the morning, the sight of a table this impressive and Bucky's touch lifting your spirits. You think life could be this easy all the time. This tranquil and domestic, a good night's sleep with someone and pancakes waiting for you in the morning. You smile as you talk about some of your most confusing missions, as you and Bucky tell stories about Sam. Albeit a bit pained, but it's something.

Leaving your parents after breakfast isn't as satisfying as you thought it would be, and you give warmer hugs than what you gave last night.

You sigh when the driver's door closes, sinking into your seat and resting your forehead against the cool window. The landscape is an orange blur, the sound of the wind blowing around the car loud enough for the radio to be useless. When you are in the city again, the car slows down and you are stuck in traffic. Bucky's hand reaches out to switch the radio on and you turn slightly in your seat, body leaning towards his.

"I was a bitch to you," you state without any warning and he snorts, looking at you with a confused expression. "When we first met." 

"Oh," his raises his brows high, as if in absolute agreement.

"You just reminded me of Steve," you say softly. "And I hated him for leaving. Still do, sometimes." you think, frown etched on your features. "Most of the time. But it wasn't fair to you and I'm sorry." 

He turns his head towards you, a simple nod to you. You fold your hands on your lap, chest lighter now that you have said it out loud. He clears his throat and you look at him again. Sun reflecting on his sparkling eyes, a smile pushing its way onto his lips. Genuine, soft. You find yourself returning the gesture naturally — no pursed or tight lips, no physical pain in your cheeks. 

"And this was nice," you add quietly.

*

"It's not that we haven't talked," you roll your eyes, nursing a drink of champagne and crossing the bal room with Sam at your side. Voice louder than usual, eyelids and lips glittering, your heels click against the floor and you side step dancing couples. 

It's quieter near the Christmas Tree. Well, near the bar.

"So you have talked?" Sam sets his empty glass on the bar counter and asks for a refill with a simple tilt of the head. Perks of being Captain America, surely. You lean against the cold marble, in-between the stools, huffing.

"No, we didn't," you repeat for what is probably the third time.

"Man, this isn't going anywhere," Sam shakes his head, eyes skimming over the crowd. You do the same.

"That's what I told when you insisted on starting this conversation, Wilson." 

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," he grumbles before taking another sip of his drink. You give in with a half shrug and a sigh.

"We just haven't had a reason to, Sam, don't read too much into it," you say casually. "No missions, no meeting…" 

"Right. And the fact that you haven't been to our headquarters in a month."

"Well, as I said. No mission, no meeting," you raise your eyebrows. "You think I'm gonna drive all the way up there to say hi and prove you that everything is fine?" 

"I was expecting this kind of commitment to the team, yes," Sam sighs dramatically and you return to your bubbly drink.

The song switches to Mariah Carey and a chorus of cheers erupts from the room, almost making you physically wince. Hands in the air, feet jumping up and down and literally making the room shake, every vibration felt deep in your chest.

"Now this is a song I haven't heard today."

Sam snickers.

"Here we go. Was wondering when you were gonna ruin the mood." 

"Hey!" You head whirls around, mouth open. Brown eyes twinkling with amusement, eyebrows barely raised, the kind of satisfaction you get when you want to say I told you so. "You have to admit that this is getting redundant." You are definitely not to blame here — surely more there are more than three Christmas songs in the world?  

"It's Christmas." 

"Yes, I'm painfully of aware." Someone falls on the dance floor and you judge them silently. You and Sam probably look intimidating as both of you are leaning against the bar, glass in hand and chins raised. "Plus it took me more than an hour to…" You trail off, a sudden glint drawing your attention to the entrance of the room, right across from the bar. "…get here." 

Sam follows your line of sight. Through a flurry of red figures, glittery and twinkling dresses twirling around with every move and laughter mixed with animated chatter and pop songs, a dark figure parts the crowd and makes its way towards the bar. Something akin to slow-motion happens in your brain. Completely unprepared for something you had been thinking about for days. Not days. Weeks.

Your chest rumbles with the rhythm of the song, matching each beat of the drums. It helps you cover up the fact that your heart is violently pounding against your ribcage and that he can probably hear it. Hell, Steve could probably hear it from his grave — this thought makes you blink, a semblance of composure coming back to your face.

"Hey man!" Sam happily greets his friend, patting him on the back. "Happy Christmas Eve." His hand lingers, squeezing Bucky's shoulder. His gaze is warm and the silent eye-contact you two share when your eyes travel above Bucky's shoulder is a way of wishing you the same. Playful face merging into something sincere. Jolly songs contrasting with the sad look in your eyes and the woeful smiles you three have plastered on your face. Civilians like to call this night the first Christmas into a normal life again. Their old life.

"Hi," Bucky greets you, a little breathless, and you wonder if he took the stairs to get here. 

Sam is whisked away by a politician and you remember that he is here as Captain America and therefore is on duty. Champagne has never looked prettier, swirling in your glass as you try to focus on anything else but the man ordering a drink beside you.

"How have you been?" He asks, mimicking your exact posture and taking a first sip of a scotch. You cast him a side glance. There's a scratch above his left eyebrow and you wonder why no one told you about this mission or called for backup. 

"You mean, have I lost my goddamn mind in the kitchen again and thrown a poor animal on the floor?" He chuckles. Your eyes travel down his face and his midnight blue suit for a moment. Too long, and he notices. "Nope. I'm good." 

He nods, then tilts his head to the side. His once-over is even less subtle than yours and you bury your face into your glass, not knowing where to look anymore. Shit. This was easier when you just bumped into him on your way to see Sam or simply shared missions with him — no small talk, no information on each other, nothing. 

Thanksgiving was supposed to be unpleasant. And it was — bleak, gloomy, melancholic. But he wasn't.

"Care to dance?"

Your head snaps up towards him. You laugh, the rest of your drink downed in a second. Bucky stands up straighter — finishing a drink means being freeing oneself from having to hold a glass, right?

"I don't dance, Barnes." 

"You don't?" You shake your head, already lifting a hand to motion for another drink. He steps around the bar stool that was previously keeping you apart, the smell of cologne and aftershave hitting your senses. 

"I don't. Certainly not on Christmas songs." 

He turns his head towards the crowd, chest rising as he breathes in deeply. The room does look pretty. Golden, red and green. Trees and fake wrapped gifts on the floor, fairy lights cascading down the windows and giving a kind of ethereal glow to everything and everyone standing here. It makes looks softer, eyes lighter. A couple captures everyone's attention ; skillfully dancing on every single song and adapting to every tempo. Their smiles are so bright that your lips quirk up a little without you even noticing it. It is radiant and contagious and for a moment they are all you can see.

A small gasp gets stuck in your throat when Bucky steps in front of you, breaking your focus on the dance floor. How did he get so close? 

He offers you his hand, palms up and inviting. You remember how they felt on Thanksgiving.

"Bucky, I…really can't dance," you shake your head, lips parted.

"C'mon. No one cares."

He doesn't wait for you to place your hand in his, but simply grabs it, fingers naturally intertwining as if they had been designed to fit together. You open your mouth to argue, but all that escapes your mouth is a chuckle. An incredulous and surprised chuckle — almost a giggle but it hurts to admit it, eyes flitting over the crowd and the people surrounding you. Are they looking? Are they seeing what you are seeing? 

He tugs on your hand and it is a slow song that echoes around the room, two bodies felling in step and gliding across the glittering floor. You hide your surprise at the way he leads you effortlessly — you had heard stories about his days in the forties and you suppose this is what he mastered to woo the dames. A warm hand in yours and the other firmly placed around your waist, drawing you close to his chest. You wrap an arm around his neck, fingernails tingling his skin.

"Is this Bing Crosby?" You ask lazily, body swaying slowly.

He hums.

"Uh. Better than Mariah Carey," you state quietly, almost in his ear. Hot breath on his skin. He huffs, quiet laughter and crinkles by his eyes. Out of all the things you could say to him right now, this is what you do.

"I'm glad you came," he says softly and you look at him curiously. He gives you a half shrug as you slowly twirl in his arms. "We haven't seen you in a while. Didn't want you to be alone today." 

Your stomach twists when you are pulled into his arms again, your hand hesitantly cupping the back of his neck. You had indeed considered staying in bed and possibly crying in front of a romantic comedy, as cliché as it sounds. Completely immerse yourself in a universe that isn't yours and whose characters you do not have to grieve for. Vicariously feeling the Christmas Spirit of others.

But you wanted to be with your friends, as painful as it is to be reminded that your circle is half empty. Sam has poured his heart into this party — a tribute to Tony, a bit of giving after having taken so much, money raised for people in need and an opportunity to reunite and share something as a group again. You admire his strength and will and it is no surprise to you that he gets to carry the Captain America mantle. Someone whose heart knows no limit and who would do anything for his friends.

You smile wistfully.

"It's a nice party," is the only thing you say, small shrug accompanying a casual tone.

"It is," Bucky nods. Eyes going over every decoration again. It is a nice feeling — swaying in his arms, warmth and cologne engulfing you whole and caging you from the outside world. His skin is so soft against your fingers and you want to nuzzle your face into his neck, completely hide away and feel nothing but him.

You shouldn’t let yourself feel this way for someone you might lose, but you can’t help but relish the feeling of being held again. His hands cannot mend the pieces of your broken heart but they can contain them and keep you from crumbling down. 

Disappointment probably shows on your face and your tired smile when the song ends and he steps away from you — hand still lingering on yours. As if reading your thoughts, Bucky casts a glance behind him and motions towards the exit with his chin. You follow his line of sight, then eye the crowd around you. He is right, no one cares.

Trailing behind him with flitting glances around you, hand grabbing a hold of his suit as if you could squeeze fabric tighter than flesh, you don’t notice when he stops and you bump into his back.  The idea of leaving this party with him is taking up all your thoughts — no clear ideas but a definite feeling, an urge to find the comfort of his arms again.You almost don't look up as a string of cheers and laughter erupts around you. Way too close to you to be a simple coincidence. Bucky's hand tightens around yours. Green stares back at you.

Oh.

No.

Mistletoe. 

Should you shake it off with a good laughter that makes it look like this is extremely funny but he is just a friend? Should you pretend not to see it even though your eyes are boring holes into it? 

Bucky has already made up his mind.

Warm flesh squeezes your hand while cool metal rests on the small of your back, encircling your waist and pulling you close so unexpectedly that you almost stumble into his arms. The warmth emitted from his body is already melting away any smart quips or observations you had ready to get out of this. Completely shattering your resolve not to melt into his arms. You can only feel him. His arms around you, flesh hand moving up your arm, caressing and squeezing your shoulder until it is resting on your neck, fingers delicately holding your chin. You don't resist when he lifts it, eyes meeting his through your thick lashes.

This is the opposite of the quiet and intimate moment you were thinking about when leaving the room. Far from discreet touches but right among flashing lights, booming music and expectant stares. You’ve never had a kiss under the mistletoe and this is way too cheesy and holidays-like.

But he leans forward and his lips are on yours. Softly. Delicately. It lasts a split second. It satisfies the crowd and it seems like a peck that could happen to both lovers and friends but it leaves you aching for more.

You look up in a daze when he pulls away, lips parted and eyes wide. You blink it all away and plaster a tight-lipped smile on your face when you fake-bow to clapping strangers, and it takes all the willpower in the world to hold yourself upright. 

The corridor is almost empty, save late-comers jogging towards where you are coming from or drunken people escaping the warm and almost suffocating air of the party. You have absolutely no idea where you are going, numb legs carrying you all the way to a remote corner. Your back hits the wall — his arm around you softens the impact.

Who instigated the second kiss? You feel like he met you halfway, or maybe you stayed rooted to your spot like a deer caught in headlights, pulse probably heard from a miles away. You can only focus on the softness of his lips on your skin, tender kisses on your neck and on the corner of your mouth. Eyes fluttering shut, fingers making their way through his hair and tugging, cheek to cheek and chest to chest — time has stopped.

You only open your eyes halfway when he pulls away for air, blurred vision and pounding heart. You feel his hot breath on your face when he chuckles breathlessly.

"Still hate this damn season?" 

[dreamcure]

note: this has been uploaded a number of times to my accounts in the past. i am the original poster, vinny, and this is not plagiarized work.

cw: pwp (smut), semi-public, blowjob

word count: 1.8k

That was enough motivation for you to get out of bed and throw on some clothes.

You kept in mind that this was your boyfriend, and any time you were with him was a reason to look nice. Putting in the minimum effort, you pulled on some clean sweatpants and shrugged on his team jacket afterwards, as you usually do with your outfits. It was his own fault he kept forgetting to grab it from your house! He ended up just ordering another one. That meant this one was rightfully yours now.

Car headlights ran across your bedroom window when he pulled onto your street and waited on the road. You passed the empty living room, as your roommate had gone to bed a few hours ago. This granted you the perfect opportunity to go and spend some quality time with your boyfriend without bugging them. His time was so sparse nowadays, what with his pro-athlete lifestyle and your own busy schedule trying to get your life on track, you both leaped at the opportunity to be together. Even if it’s just a half hour in between practice and classes. Texts like these happened often enough for you to be prepared at any time.

He was on his phone when you approached the car. Maybe he was texting you to say he had arrived, but he put it down when you got into the passenger side, nonetheless. Ever since his parents got a new car and let him start using their old car, he’s been unstoppable. And with no one to tell him he can’t go get food on a whim, well… here you are now. “Hey hey hey,” He cooed over the music and leaned over to greet you with a kiss once you shut your door. “Nice jacket, we’re twinning now!” He exclaimed, showing you that he was wearing the team jacket that he had to order once you took his first one.

You put your seatbelt on, he turned up the music even more, put the car into drive, and stepped on it. His lead foot got you to McDonald’s faster than you expected, and it’s probably due to his hunger. At the drive-through window he knew exactly what he wanted, and he turned to you as if to ask if you wanted anything different than your usual. Leave it to him to know these things by heart - although he didn’t eat fast food too often.

The order was put through, and you both waited rather impatiently for the food to be made. It was late, the employees hadn’t much need for a lot of food on standby, but you insisted this was good because then it would be fresh! Sitting at the second window, car in park, listening to whatever song was playing through his aux, he began to play your thigh like a drum - rather horribly along to the beat of his music. His childlike nature just couldn’t be contained when he was excited to eat!

“Bokuto, baby, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing, babe, just happy to see you is all~”

The food was acquired, and instead of going anywhere else to eat it, he pulled off to the side and parked the car. It was the only car in the small lot, besides the employee cars, which were very few. The dashboard served as a buffet table, wrappers were tossed into the backseat, and the music was playing softer now that you were talking away.

You spoke about Bokuto’s plans for next week, and how it was basically booked with volleyball practice and travel, as per usual. You told him that you had classes for a couple days, and then time allotted for homework but not much else. In between the conversations, you both stuffed your face. Bokuto stole some of your fries, even if his own weren’t gone yet. In response, you drank from his milkshake, even though you had your own to sip from as well.

The food was demolished. Your boyfriend laid his seat back just a tiny bit and stretched his arm over the console just to hold onto your thigh while you nurse your drink.

“I don’t want to go home,” You said after finishing the last of your meal. It was very late now, far past the time you usually go to bed.

“We can stay out all night if that’s what you want,” he replies, not the least bit concerned that he has responsibilities in the morning.

You were just enjoying the time together so much. He picked up his phone again and began texting rapidly. Curious, you leaned your head on his shoulder to see his screen. He never has anything to hide from you, so he let you read the messages between him and his best friend Akaashi, talking about how he’s not home right now.

“What’s he up to?”

“Akaashi? Probably homework, or Netflix.”

Bokuto put his phone down once the message was sent, and rested his own head down against your’s. Easily he could smell your shampoo. It might just be his favourite scent, because it gives him such a nice feeling whenever he catches a similar scent literally anywhere. Meanwhile, you sat there with your eyes turned downward. His leg was bouncing a little, to release some of his constant energy.

Just like normal, he sat with his seat pushed all the way back from the wheel, and his legs were still bent and thighs spread while he relaxed in his seat. It was only now that you noticed he was wearing grey sweatpants, his pajamas… you could see him half exposing himself, now that you were paying attention. This is exactly what you could be doing instead of going home. The technicalities didn’t run through your mind, you were only thinking about taking this opportunity to get dicked down.

It wasn’t long before your hand was reaching over and traveling north from his knee. “Is this all right?” You asked, because consent is always the key. In physical response, he pushed his legs completely apart in the space he was given and adjusted his hips in his seat, now slouching a little bit. Though, verbally, he chuckled and said, “You know it’s always okay.”

Just like that, it was all over. You closed your hand around the mound in his sweatpants and Bokuto let out the first moan of the night. It was soft, and followed by a sharp inhale of breath when your fingers began to rub and work at it. Slowly but surely, the member under your hand was growing harder and larger. You lifted your head from his shoulder and he took the opportunity to kiss you - eager enough to lead with the tongue and quickly deepen it. His own hand traveled over to find its way and nestle in between your thighs, giving the muscle there a tender squeeze.

Wow, this was really happening. In his parents’ car. They wouldn’t know the difference since they no longer drive it, but… still. One thing led to another and soon you were pulling the waistband of his sweats down. Bokuto lifted his hips enough to let them down his legs and expose nothing beneath them. This wasn’t really his intent when he wore grey sweatpants to your little late night dinner date, but he was really liking the result he got with them. He had a rather large, wavering grin on his face because he was just so excited to see you take this much initiative in staying away from home as long as possible.

“I took a shower a couple of hours ago,” He felt the need to tell you.

It meant his dick was fresh, and perfect for blowing. You weren’t stupid, you knew exactly what he wanted without him even asking for it. And just for now, you were willing to give it to him while he wasn’t dirtied up from exercise. Getting right to it, you brushed your hair away from your face and had a quick look around. If anyone got close enough they could easily deduce what you two were doing in this car. Still, you got comfortable leaning over the center console and prepared to take him in your mouth.

To begin, you pulled back his briefs and tucked the band under his balls. Already you could tell he was near throbbing for your attention, just by the way his cock stood up once the fabric was out of the way. You couldn’t deny him of the attention either - or he might start whining. The moment your hand wrapped into a loose fist around him and your lips pressed to the very tip, he was spreading his legs further and leaning his seat back a little more.

You let your tongue slip out past your lips and give a generous swirl around the head of Bokuto’s cock that brings out a deep moan from him. You kept heavy on the tongue, sometimes resting your head on his abdomen and treating his dick like a candy and sucking the head till it turns a deep red.

Besides the music, the car was filled with the wet noises from your sucking, and Bokuto’s hot as hell moans. You soon forgot you were in a car, until your boyfriend cracked open a window at the first sight of fogging at the windows. He was always full of hot air. It was barely ten minutes of blowing, gently playing with his balls, and humming along to the songs on the radio while you did so, before Bokuto was tensing up more than usual. Obviously he was close, and you were eager to taste the ending he had in store.

The fingers in your hair clenched, tugging the strands at the roots while you bobbed your head up and down his entire length. Your lips were tightly clenched around his cock while waiting for him to release his load. Sure, you were in a parking lot of McDonald’s - more or less public - but Bokuto moaned your name when he came as if you two were home alone regardless. His hands that were lost in your hair were now forcing your head down as far as you’d let it.

When you were allowed to lift your head back up you made sure he heard you swallow the load you were given, then proceeded to lick him clean. From base to tip, you ran your tongue. It made him shiver and attempt at pushing your face away in all his post-orgasm glory. His head was tipped back and he watched out the side window of the car while catching his breath.

Naturally, he had something bright to say, “You just didn’t want to go home.”

He was right.

“Your turn, babe, c’mon now.”

[axoxtxhxh]

Can’t It be You? Chapter 3

Summary: Kinjou and his best friend (Reader) have sex... I suck at summarizing.

Kinjou x Fem!Reader nsfw

Warnings: Sex, oral (f receiving), marking/lovebites, virginity loss, unestablished relationship

Word Count: ~5,000

A/N: I have gone over this chapter so much trying to make it perfect that I think I just need to post it. I really can’t edit it anymore without my eyes glossing over.

Friday came a lot faster than Y/N thought it would. She tried to keep herself busy with studying so she wouldn’t think about what was going to happen that night. Unfortunately, Friday was one of her easier days and she didn’t have much work. She cleaned her apartment and showered, trying to decide if she should shave her legs and actually go all out or not worry about it. She ultimately decided to shave. She had so much time, she exfoliated, shaved, and moisturized, even painted her toenails with the extra time she had.

By the time she finished everything, it was nearly dinner. She checked her phone and saw a text from Kinjou.

[What time should I come over? Do you want me to bring food?]

She smiled at his message. There was no romance whatsoever in this planned appointment, but he was definitely bringing in an innocence that was actually quite endearing. She texted him back.

[You can come over whenever you want. Don’t worry about food. I will order pizza.]

She put her phone away and sat at the table to grade some papers. There was a knock at the door and the knob starting turning. Was Kinjou already here? She just messaged him like five minutes ago. She swallowed the lump in her throat, not realizing how nervous she was until just then.

“I got everything we could ever want right here.” Shinkai walked in carrying a grocery bag and calling out each item inside.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him as he set up in the kitchen.

“What do you mean?” He looked at her confused. “It’s Friday.”

“…We were going to watch our show.” She sank in her seat, covering her face. “I totally forgot.”

“Well it doesn’t matter, I brought everything anyway.” He opened one of the bags and started snacking.

“No, I mean, I can’t.” She thought of how to explain. “I’m busy tonight.”

“How are you busy? This is a standing engagement. We always meet Fridays.”

“This came up sort of last minute.”

“Aww, what?” He put the chip back in the bag looking disappointed. “What is it? Maybe I can help you finish it and we can still have time to watch.”

“You probably don’t want to help with this.” She laughed to herself. “Please, I really need to get started.”

“You’re acting weird. Tell me what it is.” He ran and sat on the couch.

“Shinkai!” She followed him. “I don’t have time. Really.”

“What is it you have to do?” He asked eating his chips again.

“If I tell you, you’ll leave?”

“I promise.” He crossed his heart using the chip in his hand. Y/N sighed.

“Kinjou is coming over.” She said. Shinkai looked unphased.

“So? We can all—” He gasped. “You said yes!”

“Yes.”

“And he’s coming over now?”

“Yes.”

“To have sex?”

“Yes. Will you stop!” She took the bag of chips from him and started moving to the kitchen where he followed. “So now you have to leave.”

“I can’t believe you said yes.”

“You told me to!” She packed up everything he brought and handed it to him. He took it, putting on his shoes.

“Do you think I can watch?” He laughed.

“Please don’t do this to me now.” She rolled her eyes.

“I want to know everything.” She opened the door and he went outside. “Everything.”

“Take the stairs.” She closed the door, then quickly opened it. “I’ll call you later.”

She rested her head against the closed door and took a deep breath before going back to the kitchen table and grading papers. It was only about ten minutes before there was a knock at the door again. She waited for the door knob to turn. When it didn’t, she got up and opened the door.

Kinjou was standing there with wet hair and a backpack. He smiled at her as she opened the door. She could smell his soap before he even moved past her to walk inside. He was one of those people that always smelled good, even after riding his bike all day. He didn’t always smell clean, but he always smelled good. Right now, he smelled like his soap which had a scent of soap. No frills or anything fancy. It suited him well.

“Your hair’s wet.” She said. “I showered just before coming here.” He walked inside and they both went to the living room.

“What’s in the bag?” She pointed at his backpack.

“Just some of my stuff.” He opened it. “I wasn’t sure if I was staying the night or what I would need so I brought my toothbrush and pajamas.” She felt a little flutter in her stomach at his wholesomeness. “I also didn’t know which condoms you liked so I just got a bunch of them.”

Ever since she met him, he always had the look of a serious, responsible adult, which he was most of the time. Occasionally he would let these innocent, thoughtful little pieces of him slide out and it always had her wanting to squeeze him. He could honestly be adorable without even trying.

“You really didn’t have to buy the big packs of these.” She laughed holding up the three eighteen-pack boxes of condoms. “You can keep your bag in my bedroom if you want. Should we get started?”

“Now?”

“I mean,” she started, “we have like over 50 condoms to use, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Very funny.” He laughed.

“Is there something you want to do first?” She asked.

“Should I get drunk first?”

“So you won’t even remember it?” She questioned.

“Well not as drunk as last weekend, but you were right, isn’t this a little awkward?” He readjusted his shirt. “I mean… I’m kind of nervous.”

“It will be fine. Let’s stay sober for now. We can always add alcohol later.”

“Okay.” He reached for his bag. “I read that setting the mood is important so I brought some candles.” He pulled out a couple candles from his bag. Y/N stared at him trying so hard to hold back her smile. She couldn’t handle him. Everything was so sweet.

“Stop being so cute! I literally can’t even take how adorable you are.” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

“The woman at the store said these have a relaxing effect.” He tried to read the label.

Y/N looked at the label then pulled away and looked out the window, it was getting dark now and as ridiculous of a thought as it was, they were bound to be hungry soon. They might as well get started now. She glanced up at him. There was no way he was going to do anything without guidance so starting this was going to be up to her.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to her bedroom. She had a lighter in her nightstand and handed it to him. He fumbled with it until he was able to light the candles and she set one on each night stand then sat on the bed next to him.

She leaned forward and kissed him, sitting herself closer to him and moving her lips. He was barely moving at all. She put her hand on his thigh and he gasped quietly. She used that chance to try sliding her tongue along his lips, but he froze.

“Kinjou,” she said, pulling away. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I’m sorry. Yes. I do.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. This is really new for me.”

“What are you talking about?” She smirked. “You kissed me like two days ago.”

“That was different.” He smiled as he remembered.

“How was it different?”

“I don’t know, it just was.”

“Why don’t you take a couple deep breaths.” She instructed.

“How many?” She rolled her eyes at him.

“Three.” She got up and closed the curtains and the door, eliminating all the light in the room except for the candles and sat back down in front of him, watching him as he continued taking deep breaths. He was right though, this was a little awkward and she was pretty nervous herself. This was one of her best friends. Once they got started, it wouldn’t be as bad, but right now she was uncomfortable.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” she said and he opened his eyes to the dark room. “We can sit here until you kiss me.”

She sat there staring at him. He could only make out certain parts of her face, the candlelight obscuring his view. He could feel the heat rising in his face just sitting there, but she didn’t move. He watched the light dance in her eyes and the warm glow it gave her cheeks. His heart started beating quickly.

His jaw was clenching as he lifted his hand up and touched her cheek, holding his breath as he guided her face to his. This time he was ready for the kiss. As soon as his lips met hers, he could feel an excitement in his stomach, the same excitement from the other night. He moved his lips and they melted into hers. Her lips were soft and cushiony and felt so good against his lips. He scooted his body closer to her and she opened her mouth allowing his tongue to brush against hers. His tongue delicately moved in, barely even entering her mouth.

“You don’t have to be so gentle.” She whispered, pushing him back to lay on the bed and hovering over him. She didn’t want to force him to move faster, but the point of this was for him to lose his virginity.

She moved her mouth down his jaw and to his neck. He really did smell so good. She opened her mouth, sucking on his jaw. He inhaled sharply as her tongue made contact with his skin and he brought his hands to her waist.

She sat up, glancing down at him before taking off her shirt and tossing it to the side. He stared without blinking, licking his lips as his eyes travelled up her body until they reached her face. He whispered her name and she barely heard it, but she did hear it and it sent heat pooling in her stomach. She sat her hips on his, feeling a growing hardness under her butt, heat rolling through her body at the thought of him being turned on by her.

She needed to keep reminding herself to breathe. She knew she was the more dominant one and she didn’t want to push Kinjou too hard. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin this experience for him. She was going to really struggle not enjoying it herself though.

He sat up and pulled her face to his, kissing her deeply now. He reached for his own shirt, pulling it up. Y/N helped him, pulling it over his head. As they both were tugging, his glasses got caught in the middle.

“Ow—damn,” he muttered and Y/N laughed. She carefully pulled them off and set them on the nightstand. She took a second to look at him. He has been letting his hair grow out recently and having it all tussled up was a nice combination with his swollen lips. She ran her fingers through his hair and leaned back in to kiss him.

His hands were more active now, moving along her back and ribs, the warmth of his touch making her feel dizzy. She groaned quietly as he moved his lips to her neck, his lips brushing lightly across her skin. She could feel her skin tingling and closed her eyes, melting in his arms. His lips made their way down to her stomach as his hands moved to her back, reaching for her bra clasp. She waited, bringing her hands to his hair, massaging his scalp as he figured out how to remove it.

She was starting to lose herself in her arousal and wanted to touch him. She wanted to move her hands over every part of his body and listen to him moan as he writhed in front of her, orgasm surging through him. Her body was losing control just thinking about it. She bit her lip and whined feeling his erection growing. She finally moved her hands to her back and unclasped her bra for him, taking it off and dropping it to the side. His hands went to her breasts, each hand cupping one and moving it around. His thumb brushed over her nipple and she gasped. Her body was flooded with excitement and they had barely even gotten started.

She leaned back on her arms, giving him more access and slowly let her head fall back. He jumped on her, straddling her legs, his hips resting on hers while his erection, even bigger than before, pushed against her stomach through his jeans. His mouth was at her neck sucking and lightly nipping at the soft skin. One hand was massaging her breast while the other slowly lowered her to the bed under him. She whined as she tried to hold herself back and let him take control.

He moved his lips down her body, wrapping them around her nipple. The combination of his hot breath and wet tongue gave her chills, making her nipple even harder as his tongue rolled over the stiff bud. Y/N’s hand flew to the back of his head, holding him as close as she could to her body as she moaned. He had no idea how much he was turning her on and she had no idea he would be able to heat her up this quickly.

He continued his way down, unbuckling her pants and sliding them over her hips. He stopped halfway, admiring the way her body curved, the plush skin around her hips and thighs begging to be squeezed. As he pulled her pants further down, he noticed how see-through her underwear was and his cock twitched in his pants. He licked his lips, his mouth beginning to water just at the sight, and continued removing her pants. Crawling back over her, he paused above her core, wanting so badly to taste her but being unsure if that was part of their deal. He moved back up to her face and connected their lips. There was a lot more passion in their kisses now, a lot more tongue and a lot rougher caressing the more worked up they got.

Y/N flipped them over and moved her lips to his neck and collarbone. Kinjou was panting heavily now, his body already begging for her. She undid his pants and pulled them off and admired his body. She always had a thing for thighs and being a cyclist, she had seen her fair share of thighs, amazing and mediocre. Kinjou had supreme, top of the line, absolutely perfect thighs. Thick, powerfully built legs with an amazing amount of definition. She sat herself in between them, rubbing her hands over the muscle before lowering herself down, pulling a section of his inner thigh into her mouth and sucking, her tongue running over the skin when she decided to let go.

Kinjou was finally moaning and breathing heavily, his hands grabbing fistfuls of blanket as he squirmed above her. She couldn’t stop herself. Hearing his beautiful moans and watching him lose himself in pleasure was sending titillating waves of energy through her body, ending at her core. It only encouraged her to continue, taking another part closer to his groin, sucking even harder. He groaned, wincing slightly and she let go.

“Sorry, was it too hard?” She asked, massaging his leg.

“No, no,” he breathed, “it’s so—so good.” She closed her eyes and bit her lip at his words, feeling a hot pulse run through her body, right to her stomach, a tight coil needing release. She leaned back down, moving to the other thigh and bringing the soft skin into her mouth. When she was satisfied, she looked up, the front of his underwear was wet and she had to resist the urge to pull that into her mouth as well. Instead she backed up off the bed and he sat up on his elbows watching her, eyes lidded. She slid off her panties and kicked them to the side.

A small noise escaped from Kinjou as his mouth slowly dropped open, eyes fixed on her completely naked body in front of him. He couldn’t move as he watched her lean over him and pull his underwear down his legs. He sat up, watching her body move over his until she set his underwear to the side.

Y/N was watching his reactions, everything so new to him. As she slid his underwear down, his erection sprang free, slapping his stomach and bobbing lightly, precum leaking from the tip. He was thick. Thick enough to have her core aching for that tantalizing stretch once he was inside of her. It took everything she had not to reach down and start pleasuring herself while watching him. She was drunk with lust, losing herself more and more, her body needing him.

She crawled on top of him, pushing him down and kissing him then lying next to him. His hand quickly moved in between her legs, his first two fingers sliding in between her folds. The sensation made him exhale deeply as he moved his fingers around, the wetness making him even harder.

She opened her legs a bit, giving him more room to explore, moaning when he grazed over her clit. He slid a finger in her entrance and she whined, arching her back slightly. He slid another one in, feeling around inside of her, fingertips lightly moving along her walls. She moaned, pushing his hand in a bit deeper then pulling him down for a rough kiss.

He moved his fingers, building a rhythm as she writhed under him. He slowly pulled his fingers out, but not completely. Her warm wetness covering his fingers rested just inside her folds and she pathetically rubbed herself against his hand and whined, pulling away from the kiss.

“Y/N.” He panted. “Can I please use my mouth on you... In—instead of my fingers.”

Her jaw dropped and she let out a noise at his question. He was asking for this. This night was supposed to be about him, but he was asking to pleasure her and that thought had arousal overwhelming her. Maybe they never discussed it, but she was certainly in no position to be trying to think anything through right now. But God, she so badly wanted to feel his face in between her legs, to look down and see him dipping into her folds, his back muscles flexing as he spread her legs. The thought had her dripping. She looked at him and he licked his lips waiting for a response. “If—if you want to.”

“God, I really do.” He breathed and kissed her hard before he slithered down. Her heart was racing out of anticipation. She opened her legs a little wider, watching him crawl down between her legs. He held onto her knees as he lowered himself down and she gasped at the feeling of his hot tongue slipping in between her wet folds.

It was a strange feeling, like having sex in public, doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. It made her entire body hot and flooded her with a need for more of him, the twisted coil in her stomach getting tighter. She looked back down at him. Her best friend was pleasuring her, running his tongue all over her most private parts, moaning into her. The sound rumbled out of him and straight into her.

She couldn’t control her back arching or the loud moan that came from her, both giving him more confidence to delve deeper. His mouth slid all over, tasting her on his lips and tongue. She was bitter and tart, but a little bit sweet and he couldn’t get enough.

“Is this okay?” He asked, reluctantly pulling away to speak.

“Mmm...” It was her turn to be grabbing fistfuls of the blanket.

He went back to her folds, his mouth lightly pulling on her inner lips. He moved upwards to her clit and she let out a breathy moan. He let his tongue linger in that spot and she could feel herself getting even wetter, soaking the bed beneath her. Her body was working hard as he pushed her closer to the edge. Kinjou moaned deeply at the warm taste, squeezing her hips and sliding his tongue through her entrance.

She was shaking, her body trembling in his arms. She put her hands in his hair and he tried to push himself deeper into her. He could barely handle the aching in his groin anymore, but he needed more of this, he needed more of her.

She spread her legs a little, giving herself enough space so she could look down at him. She had to bite back a groan as she watched his face dipping in and out of her. His nose was shiny with slick. He moved his hand to caress her thigh and she sighed, his eyes moving up to look at her.

She froze for a moment as they made eye contact, her cheeks flushing. It was incredibly intimate, perhaps too intimate for their relationship, but what was their relationship going to be after this anyway? She couldn’t bring herself to look away. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he continued working at her core, sliding over her clit again as he stared directly at her.

In their three years of friendship, she had never felt this close to him. He sank his tongue back into her entrance and moaned as a fresh wave of her slick hit his tongue. He closed his eyes, breaking the eye contact briefly, enjoying the warmth. Maybe the awkwardness wasn’t what she should have been worrying about.

“God,” she groaned, “you look so good.”

She couldn’t hold back much more. She was fighting the urge to grind against his face, her hand already in the position to push him further. He moved his tongue forward until he reached her clit again.

“Right there.” She moaned. “Kinjou, don’t stop… don’t… stop.” Kinjou grabbed her thighs tightly and flattened his tongue over that spot, working it over and over as she shook in his arms.

She couldn’t control her body anymore. Her hands tightly gripping the blankets under them while her hips thrusted forward, legs shaking. Kinjou was squeezing her thighs and she knew she was there. Her orgasm hit her and her body tensed up, her mind disappearing and giving way to elation.

She was only able to concentrate on the pleasure stemming from in between her legs as her body shook in his arms, tensing and heating up before she cried out, falling back to the bed, panting heavily. Kinjou was still lapping at her core, moving to suck on her inner lips then making his way back to her clit and back around.

“Wait—wait.” Her tired body tried to push his head away. “Stop—Kinjou stop.” He looked up at her. “I… I’m too sensitive right now.” She huffed.

She sat up and he came to sit next to her, concern in his eyes. She could see his body was flushed red and hot. He was also breathing heavily and his eyes were lidded. He was lost in his own arousal. She stared at him, hoping to burn the image in her mind. She never wanted to forget how he looked in this moment. She brought her hand to his cheek.

“Do you need to stop?” he asked, licking his lips, the area all around his mouth shiny and slick.

“No, we are definitely going to keep going.” She smiled. “I just needed a small break.”

She reached to the nightstand and grabbed the boxes before pushing him down on his back and crawling over his body.

“Which one is the winner?” She held the condom boxes up for him.

He smiled, pointing to one of them and she opened it up, getting the condom and rolling it on him quickly.

“You ready?” He nodded.

She slowly lowered herself onto his hips and lined herself up before she sank down onto him. The stretch was everything she knew it would be and she whined as Kinjou let out a loud exhale, breathing picking up.

She started off slowly, just grinding lightly, to watch his reaction. His eyes were closed and he rubbed his fingers along her hips and waist. She was loving watching his peaceful enjoyment, each time she would grind backwards, his bottom lip would pull in between his teeth. It wasn’t long before he started gripping her hips a little tighter and guiding her movements over him.

He couldn’t believe what he was feeling, the way her body was sliding over his, her walls squeezing him so tightly, her soft skin under his hands. He wanted more of it. He steered her hips a little and she followed, moving herself where he wanted her to go. He clenched his jaw at the feeling. He needed more.

They both couldn’t wait very long and soon enough, she was bouncing as hard and as fast as she could on him. His body twitching under her as he grunted. She could feel her second release nearly there and was ready for it, knowing his was close too. He held her hips and helped thrust up into her as she slammed down onto him. They were surprisingly in sync for where their minds were.

His hips began to falter, his thrusting becoming erratic as his grunts got deeper and louder. He shifted positions so he could balance slightly on one arm while the other held Y/N. One final grunt and he dropped his head back. She watched his face contort as he orgasmed. His eyes squeezed shut and mouth open. His body tensed up as he dug his nails into her hips. The veins in his neck were bulging as his orgasm took his breath and he unloaded into her. A strangled groan escaping him before he finally gasped for air. Just as his breathing returned, she heard him quietly groan her name and she lost control of her body as her orgasm rolled over her quickly. She closed her eyes and lost herself, a final moan being caught in her throat until she could breathe again. She slowed her grinding and lowered her head, her body shaking and tingling with pleasure.

They both continued breathing heavily for a couple minutes, trying to catch their breath. She sat back and then pulled herself off of him, sitting next to him.

“Holy shit,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, still lost in his head. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a hair tie, tying her hair up. He looked at her. “God, you look amazing… I—I mean, I feel amazing…” He blushed and quickly looked away.

“Yeah?” She looked over and smiled at him. “Me too.”

“I’m hungry. Do you feel hungry?” He patted his stomach, sitting up.

“I’ll order the pizza.” She laughed grabbing the phone.

Less than an hour later, they were both sitting in her living room eating. Kinjou had put on his underwear and Y/N put on her robe.

“Maybe I should have ordered two pizzas,” she said as they both picked up the last slice.

“I didn’t think I would be this hungry.” He finished the slice in three bites and wiped his mouth.

“It is already eight I figured eating after would be a better plan.” She smiled and took a bite.

“How was it for you?” He asked hesitantly.

“The pizza?” She took a bite. “It’s a bit small, but it tastes good.”

“No.” He chuckled at her response. “I meant me, how was I? Was it really awful or was it okay?”

“Oh.” She swallowed her bite. “Um, yeah—yes. It was good—You were good.” Her eyes travelled down to his legs. He had several dark red marks all over his thighs. The idea of him seeing her marks on him over the next couple days had her heating up again.

“You okay?” He noticed her skin reddening.

“Yeah, fine. Just hot.” She reached forward and took a gulp of her water and started fanning the collar of her robe. “This robe is just hot.”

Kinjou watched her fan herself. The robe wasn’t one of those thick bathrobes, it was one of those flimsy, thin fabric ones. As she fanned the collar of the robe, he could catch glimpses of her breasts, soft and supple skin, so warm when he touched them. Her nipples were hard against the thin fabric and he felt a heat wash over him, his mind getting fogged over. When he looked up at her face, her eyes were fixated on his legs and he looked down. Dark red spots littered his inner thighs.

He licked his lips remembering her lips on him, already feeling himself getting hard again. He looked back up and her eyes were still stuck on his thighs as she desperately fanned herself. He moved his plate and crawled closer to her.

“Do you want to give me more of these?” He put one of her hands on his thighs.

She looked at him, her mouth hanging open and pulse racing. The way he just flat out asked her had her body already begging for him. Wetness trickled out from between her legs, soaking her robe as she struggled with how she should answer. On one hand, she wanted to remind herself and him that they were friends, she was doing a him a favor and that favor was already complete.

On the other hand, she wanted so badly to say yes. She wanted his thighs in her hands and in her mouth. She wanted to run her tongue over every inch of him and see him shaking with pleasure again. Her mind was even closer to being made as he waited so close to her, strong legs straddling her body, his breath hitting her face as he cupped her cheeks. She looked down at his lips as he moved closer to her.

“Yes,” she whispered and his lips were all over hers.