#i’m going to give it until friday before i chase them up because shit happens. but i am once again asking why it always seems to happen

[fingertipsmp3]

Why does nothing ever go normally for me. Why is nothing ever straightforward. Just once, when someone tells me they’re going to email me something important, can they actually ✨do it✨

[georgiapeach30513]

Every Other Weekend, In the Beginning

Summary:  You and Jack instantly connect

Pairings:  Jack O’Malley X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, pull out, squirting, unexpected pregnancy, mentions of an abortion, sweet!Jack, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.8K

Series Masterlist

A/N:  so I got an ask about Jack and reader in the beginning, and this was originally going to be a drabble...but it didn’t turn out to be.  These two are something else, but at least it gives you an insight as to what they’re fighting for, and their sweetest stage of the beginning of the relationship.

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics​

You take a sip of your beer as your eyes roam the bar, dumped again by a jerk who wasn’t worth your time, but now here you sit on a Friday night with your best friend TJ scoping out the bar, “Why are we here?” You whine looking up at him.

“You said you wanted to get laid.”

“Did not,” before you can even pout, TJ covers your face with his hand. Already spotting a man he had been eyeing again.

“Being seen with you is not helping my game.”

“Fine, then leave me,” he turns, looking at you, narrowing his eyes, and starts shaking his head. “We came here for me to find someone as desperate as me to have sex, and go on about our lives, but now you’re eye fucking some hot man at the bar.”

“Guilt tripping?”

“Yep,” you answer, popping the p. “Find me a man.”

“That one,” he points out quickly, and you turn to glare at him. He wasn’t your type at all. “Are you looking to get fucked or looking to get married?”

“Why not both?”

“No!” He playfully bonks you on the head. “You don’t marry the first guy you see at a bar.”

“I’m not interested in the first guy. Find me another,” you look back at the bar to see the man you actually were sizing up. He was just your type. A bit rugged, drank beer, boots, leather, and one that kept looking back at you. Confused as to why you were checking him out when you clearly had a man with you.

“Fine, then why don’t you go talk to Mr. Mysterious and his giant friend.”

“I am not interested in the giant friend.”

“No, you’re interested in a man that looks like he has ten layers on,” you give him a whack to his arm, but look the man up and down again. You couldn’t see, but it looked like he had a cute ass. He gives a stretch, and another look over at you before his friend and him go over to the pool tables. “Don’t look at his ass.”

“A good ass is the way to my heart,” you respond, lifting up off your chair, and yes, a perfectly rounded tush. “I want that.”

“Go get that. One night,” getting in front of you, TJ puts both hands on your shoulder, “I know you. One night.”

“Or…”

“No! Down girl. One night.”

“I was going to say, all night, next morning, and all weekend,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “TJ, you’re killing my game.”

“This…this is your problem. One night turns into you doing sweet things for them. Leaving your little crumbs that you were with them. I swear you wipe your pussy juice on their shit, because they can’t get enough of you. That or you're a freaky thing in bed, and quite frankly I don’t want to know which is correct. But then they chase you around, and you love it, but when you give them nothing in return, they retreat, and you chase, but it’s not fun for you, and your texting and calls happen less frequently until they break up with you.”

“Are you writing a book on my dating?” Slapping his hand on his face, he pulls it down. “That is not…no, I don’t do that. I don’t wipe my pussy juice on anything.”

“They become obsessed with you, until they don’t. Explain.”

“I would say that you could sleep with me, and find out, but I’m not your type,” you start walking away and over to the man with his giant friend.

“I tried! The thought of touching that made me vomit.”

“Shh,” you whisper as you get closer. Grabbing up a pool cue, and playing the dumb girl. TJ groans, because he’s seen this a few times as well. He sits down at the bar, ordering another drink for him, and a beer for you.

Just like clockwork, you pick out a cue, but somehow a few fall to the ground, “I’m sorry,” your whiney voice. He wasn’t going to fall for it. Even Daphne the bartender snickers watching the show. She’s seen it, too. “Oh,” you stop standing up as the man you had been ogling for an hour comes to your rescue. “Thank you. I’m such a clutz,” standing up you get to finally see his eyes, and he was exactly your type.

Bright, and almost innocent looking. “It’s okay. You play?”

“Yes,” TJ and Daphne answer together, but of course you shake your head no.

“I don’t even know how to stack the balls,” another play. Say things that could possibly turn into a crude twelve year old boy joke, make them sweat, while they try to be as polite as possible.

“Why hasn’t your boyfriend taught you?”

“Boyfriend?” You give him a smile, and look over at TJ, “That is my best friend. He’s gay. While he might be someone who I would go after, he’s been looking at that man right there,” thankfully you always knew when to help TJ out. Giving him the go ahead to leave you be.

“You wanna play with us?” Jack grabs a stick, and places it in your hand, “Seems you’re losing your best friend.”

“Will you teach me?” Daphne doesn’t even pop the top of your beer. You were in your zone. Jack timidly grabs your hand, and leads you to the table him and his friend were playing at. Introducing him as Callum, and nervously realizing he never got your name.

It’s easy to pretend you didn’t know what you were doing when Jack actually did know how to play. Jack wasn’t a dummy, though. He had caught you a few times slightly shaking your head at the plays that Cal had made. Well, if you wanted him close to you, he was going to make sure that you got what you wanted.

Leaning over your body completely, and holding your hand, every time it was your turn. His mouth was right at your neck as he whispers directions on what to do. His front was pressed completely to your back, and you could feel what he was hiding under those loose clothes. His arms were huge, and you had a desire to have them wrapped around your neck, or even ripping your legs apart.

Jack chuckles behind your ear, as his lips brush against your heated and tingly skin. You arch your back, and push your ass more into him, and he softly moans in your ear, “What’s wrong, Jack?”

“Nothing. Just,” his voice was silky, and the way he was speaking made a flood of slick rush to your core.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Just a beer, why?”

You peek back at him after you hit the cue ball yourself. His eyes were just as black as your own. You were adults, and there was no need to deny your urges. “You could drive us to your place?”

“Yep,” he says quickly, standing up and looking at Callum, “I’m calling it a night,” he raises his eyebrows, while Cal looks between the two of you. His shoulders falling.

“We’re not finished yet.”

“Yeah, well, I’m tired. I’ll call you sometime tomorrow,” Cal watches as Jack pulls you towards the door, but TJ bolts to the exit, and stands there. “What?”

“I need an address. Real one. What is it that you do? I know karate, and know how to use a gun.”

Jack gives him his address, and pulls out his wallet. His ID shares the same address as he told TJ, and even shows his police badge, “There’s the badge number. You’re killing the mood.”

“As long as you’re not killing her, I really don’t care,” you can’t help but giggle at your overprotective bestie. Following Jack out to his car.

“How far away?”

“Ten minutes,” you give him a pout, but Jack reaches over, and lays your seat down a bit.

“What are you doing?” You squeak out.

“Since I’m so far away, how about you let me play with your pussy.”

“Oh!”

“I’m sorry…is this where this was going? If I misread all this, I am,” you unbutton your jeans, and slide your hand down your front, pulling it out to show Jack just how soaked you were, “How does it taste?”

Slipping your fingers in your mouth, you moan at your taste, “Good enough for me,” his hands dip under your pants, and for a man that had only just met you, he seemed to know what you liked. Teasing at your clit. Giving enough stimulation, but never too much. He didn’t want you to cum on his fingers, he selfishly only wanted his dick to feel you clench around him.

Both of you knew this was just a one night deal. You were aware that this wasn’t serious, but you enjoyed it. Your body rocks with his ministrations as he pulls into his garage. You looked almost too pretty like this to even want to get out of the car, until he finally pushes two fingers into your neglected hole. Pumping them in and out of you, and you were sensitive. Whimpering out his name, and your walls start to flutter. God, he hoped this wasn’t a quick encounter.

Grabbing at his hand, you pull him out of your pants, and bring his fingers to your mouth. Sucking off your arousal, before smiling at him, “I think you have something better than your fingers, huh?” Looking down at his jeans, he readjusts himself again, but he couldn’t hide how hard he was. “Show me the bedroom.”

Jack struggles to find the door handle, and helps you out. Your mouth slams onto his, while he walks backwards into his house. Pushing aside any item that was out of place with his foot, before the two of you were dropping onto the bed. Becoming a mess of sloppy kisses, wandering hands, and flying clothes until he was crawling over you.

Settling himself in between your thighs, and pushing them further apart with his legs. His tip runs up and down your slit as he gathers your slippery juices on his cock. One night stands were rarely this personable. He was staring only at you as he slowly enters into your wet heat. His cock stretched you out beautifully. He was thick, his mushroom tip guiding him deeper, and you could feel every ridge and vein on his cock as they sunk into your pussy.

It was like he was made for you, because he hit every spot inside of you. Picking up your hands he holds them over your head as he bottoms out. You let out a desperate moan, wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer, “Can’t get enough of me, huh?”

“I want to feel your entire weight on me,” he lets go of your hands, and holds himself up with his forearms. Slowly pulling himself out completely, before he drills back into you. Making you yip as his tip grazes your cervix. Leaning down he gives you a filthy kiss while his thrusts become harder. His speed picks up, but still he wants to take time with you. Watching every change your face makes as you slip into pure unadulterated pleasure.

Fingers grip tight to his back as your jaw goes slack, letting him feel every heated breath coming out of you. You scream out his name as your walls clench down tight around him. His hips push him deeper into your weeping cunt, until the dam breaks, and you gush on him. Throwing your head back as a deep guttural moan releases from the both of you. You don’t want him to pull out, but you know you should.

He pulls out and barely makes it with his spunk coating your mound, and he lays his forehead on yours, panting. “You want me to call a cab?”

“Shh,” he whispers. “Shh, just…shh,” Jack doesn’t want you going anywhere. He wants to keep you here all night. “When I get horny again, can…”

“Please?” He chuckles at your answer, and leans back to look at you. His calloused fingers pet over your face.

“Where did you come from?”

“The bar.”

“Well, how about you stay here tonight,” he pulls himself off of you, and his naked ass walks into the bathroom, and you still think he has the cutest tush. Coming back with a cloth where he cleans himself off you. “And when one of us gets horny, just, have at it?”

“Just for tonight?”

“You want to make this a regular thing, Sharkie?” You curl your nose up looking at him. “What? You want me to believe you didn’t actually know how to play pool? Even the bartender was laughing at you. You gonna play me and leave, Pool Sharkie?”

“Never.”

Callum follows Jack out to his car, and gets in, and immediately starts laughing, “What?” He asks as Callum lifts up a pair of your panties, “Yeah, about that…I have no explanation.”

“You see her every night?”

“When you get to spend most of the night fucking, yeah. Yeah, she can come over whenever she wants to.”

“And you go see her?” He asks, holding your lacy underwear up with two fingers before Jack swipes them from him, tucking them safely in his pocket.

“TJ prefers her to be here at my place. He says we're loud,” Callum slaps at his partner's shoulder laughing. “What?”

“You’re falling for the girl.”

“I’m falling for her pussy.”

“You’ve been drunk fucking her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack scowls looking at Callum, who shrugs his shoulders. “No, spill it.”

“I’m sure Mrs. O’Malley would love to hear that her alter boy was fucking a townie every night. Unprotected?”

“Man, shut up. I pull out.”

You pace around the bathroom, while TJ just stares at the test. Waiting for anything to change, “Have you ever heard of condoms?”

“Yes, Teej. Things just…happened. He pulls out.”

“Yeah, well, your lack of a period is proving that’s a bad idea. Like…when was your last one?” You give him a shrug the last couple of months were a blur. “Seriously?”

“I’ve had at least one. Never had someone who wanted to have sex during my period either. If you could do it, I would highly suggest it.”

“Does he even take you out?” You give him a little swat on his arm. TJ knew that Jack took you out, you just didn’t stay out long. “Honey,” he looks down at the test and then back at you. “You and Jack need to have a talk.”

“Shut up. Shut up,” picking up the test, you throw it into the trash, and reach for another one. “I’m going to test again. That one was a lie.”

“And if that one is positive?”

“Then I’ll test until it’s negative.”

“That’ll be a few months, honey,” you scream, as you sit down on the toilet, letting your head rest in your hands. “It’s not that big of a deal. If you don’t want to say anything to Jack, we’ll go to a clinic. He never has to know.”

“I would know,” you look back up at him, and TJ squats down, “You know, all these failed relationships…I never…never mind.”

“Tell me. Because, I already know. You were reckless with sleeping with men. You get tested regularly to make sure you’re safe, but after a few months of sleeping with people you never cared if they came in you. You wouldn’t care if they left you if you were pregnant, because you wanted to be a mom. Those tests under your sink aren't because you’re scared, they’re in hopes of an actual positive test, and now that one is, you’re wondering if Jack is going to leave you or stay.”

“I hate you,” you pull him close to you, and rest your chin on his shoulder. “I could do it, you know? Be a single parent, I could do it.”

“I know. You just don’t want to. You want that nucleus family. If he doesn’t want the baby…I’ll be a good uncle,” you hiccup through your tears, clinging to him more. “I’ll take you to your appointments, because I know you want a baby. You want a child, so just…talk to Jack. You actually talk right? Or is it just moaning?”

“Yes, we talk. He loves Italian food.”

“Wow. I’m glad you know so much about your baby daddy.”

“So…you’re sure, sure?” You nod your head as you look at Jack go through all the emotions. “And where…what…I wanna give you the choice. This is your decision. It won’t affect me,” your eyes go wide at him, and you start to stand, pissed off at the audacity, “I mean, you’re the one that changes. Not me. You’re the one that has to deal with the strain and taking off work.”

“Do you want to be a part of the baby’s life?”

“Yes. But,” his hand goes behind his neck, and he ruffles his hair, grimacing at you. “I can’t tell my mom.”

“What?” This was all very confusing that he couldn’t tell his mom. He was a grown man, and eventually whether he told her or not, you would show that you were pregnant. If he wanted to be apart of the baby’s life, eventually his family would see you.

“She would die if she knew I was having sex without a ring on my hand. She’ll want this traditional husband and wife when it comes to children, and I can’t…I don’t want to do that to her.”

“What are you suggesting? Me turning up after the baby is born?”

“No. It’s crazy…it just is. I’m not suggesting anything,” he can’t even look at you while he talks. But it’s like nonsense over and over again. “I mean, eventually I’d like to think we got there, but to suggest it now, seems dumb. But I want to be in the baby’s life and yours. And I don’t want the baby to be the family secret and…it’ll happen sooner or later, so why not sooner.”

“What are you asking?”

“It’s crazy, so don’t freak out, but…we should get married,” you stare at him stunned, because this wasn’t at all where you thought he was taking this conversation. Never believed he would try to commit that much. There was a baby, and now there was a proposal of sorts. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“If we’re married you would…I mean your parents wouldn't freak out about the baby?”

“Alter boy,” he points at himself. “Ma thinks I’m still her perfect son.”

“So you don’t want to tell her that two people who have known each other for a little over two months that they can’t be in the same room long without fucking or sucking, and now I’m pregnant, but you’ll be okay with telling her we’re married?” It was crazy, but at the same time, you wanted to give it a try, and that made you feel even crazier.

You and Jack had shared a quick relationship, and one built mostly on sex, but it felt right. The moment he entered into you, you felt like he was your future. You tried to make the others work, knowing it never would, but Jack was different. “Okay. This is stupid, but let’s do it. We’ll get married. No wedding. Just…married. Maybe a wedding later, if we make it.”

“When we make it.”

“When,” you add in.

You slide into the booth, waiting on Jack as well, as you have a nice dinner with Cal and TJ. You were beginning to get uncomfortable and stretched because your growing boy was just getting so big. Jack seemed a bit distant and removed from the pregnancy, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

“You know, I never saw this one with kids,” Callum hums, holding his beer towards Jack. “He’s surprised me.”

“I always knew she was going to become a mom. She wanted it,” you wince, but smile over at TJ, “Everything okay?”

“He’s just moving a lot.”

“I can never feel him,” Jack awkwardly laughs. “I try, but I haven’t ever felt him. TJ has of course,” this was what was bothering him. You pick up your cup, and take a big drink. Waiting on Finn to start rolling around. Pressing your hand on your swollen stomach, and hoping to coax him out of hiding so his daddy could feel him.

Just when you see him push out your stomach, you grab Jack’s hand, and he waits. Getting a bit miffed, until Finn kicks right under his palm. Jack gasps as he looks up at you. Feeling around your stomach for his moving son. “That’s him.”

“It is,” you smile, tears springing in your eyes. For the first time Jack looked so proud of his son. “That’s your son, daddy.”

“Oh,” he moves his hand around, continuing to feel him. “Finn, I have waited months to feel you. It’s like you're really here now.”

“They’re so cute,” TJ whispers up at Cal. “You think they’ll make it,” he didn’t have to be too quiet, because you and Jack were lost in a bubble all on your own. He was so handsome, smiling at your moving boy.

“I think they could. Marriage is hard work though. And they got married quickly, so as not to make their timeline for conception too confusing. But look at him,” Jack leans in to give you a bruising kiss, but keeps his hand on your stomach, a place that it hardly ever left the moment he felt Finn kick. “I’ve known him for a long time, he’s never been happier.”

“Same. I’ve been her bestie since middle school. She pretended to be my girlfriend for a few years. She’s a loyal one. But for whatever reason, that man makes her happy. And apparently, nobody does it better than him.”

“I figured. I’ve found a few panties.”

“She leaves them for him,” Cal looks over at TJ, raising his brow, “Just a reminder of what he gets to come home to. By the way, you need a roommate? Mine got knocked up, married, and left me.”

“Hmm, yeah. I could move in. As long as you don’t mind women coming home with me.”

“I got used to men coming home with her,” Callum holds up a fist, which TJ awkwardly bumps. Looking back at you, before he slaps the table, “Alright, we came here to eat. I don’t want to vomit beforehand. We get it, Finn is precious and sweet. But the pregnant woman needs to eat. No pregnancy sex before dinner.”

“You ruin all the fun,” Jack groans, readjusting his pants, and then pulling you closer. Letting his hand rest on your belly, while he feels his son growing. “But I should feed you. You get angry without food.”

“So do you,” you knock your shoulder into him, before resting a hand over his. It felt right. Like even though you and Jack had rushed into this, it felt like you could do it. Like there wasn’t anything in the world that could stop the two of you. Plus, good sex. But the more time you spent with Jack, the more you grew to love him. And you were doing it together.

Masterlist

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[littlecaesar]

There were maybe a total of six people that Caesarion would almost always pick up the phone for. The name flashing at him on the caller ID at the moment was not one of them, although the accompanying Imperial March ringtone was at least faintly amusing as he ignored it.

It had been a Friday, with only one class in the morning, and naturally he’d decided on going to see his best friend. Only to find she’d gone off to Verona, and “Probably staying in some awful little hotel too Caesarion, it’s terrible really,” as he’d been told. Which of course made him terribly indignant as there was no way he was letting that happen, so with a few phonecalls on the way he’d both tracked her down and booked the two biggest suites at the nicest hotel that was there.

“Friends don’t let their friends stay in crappy hotels, even if they’re peasants,” he’d teased as he sauntered into her room behind her. Tria had rolled her eyes and taken her small suitcase into the bedroom to unpack, leaving him lounging on one of the couches in the living room. Sighing as though he was being told to make nice with his cousin Atia’s horrible youngest spawn, he picked the phone up to answer it.

“Father, is this a yell at me call, a you pissed off mother call, or did someone die.”

“Yell at me it is. And no I absolutely did not fuck off with no warning, last time I checked I was 18, in school, and an adult who had no appearances or duties till next week.”

If it were possible to roll his eyes any harder he probably would have, holding the phone away from his ear while his father continued a familiar diatribe against him. He only interrupted him when he heard him say “Enough is enough, you can not be chasing after your little peasant friend all the time. People will talk more than they do already. You’re a Prince for Christ’s sake, I’ve got better hopes for you than someone like that.”

Caesarion was gripping the phone so tight then he nearly broke it, and was trying not to hurl it across the room and shatter it. “You do NOT, ever, talk about my best friend like that. Do you hear me? I’ve told you that before and I won’t say it again........no I don’t particularly care that you’re the damn King right now.....no you listen. Demetria is my closest friend, and one of the only people on this earth that doesn’t give two shits about the fact that I’m a Prince. No one’s allowed to talk about her like that, and especially not you just because you’re pissed off that people genuinely like me not the Prince of Piedmont, unlike you. I’m not going anywhere until Sunday and will be ignoring you from here on out. Good bye malaka.” 

Hanging up he gave into the impulse and tossed the phone onto the other couch where it at least wouldn’t break, settling for chucking a cushion across the room instead. 

[chiwhorei]

green scrunchies

pairing: dom!k. ukai x sub!fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, spanking, smoking, daddy kink, dom/ sub dynamics, brat taming, subspace, dirty talk, degradation, age gap(reader is 22ish and ukai is 26ish) spitting, fingering, oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, a little dumification, public nudity (kinda), unprotected sex, tattoos (there’s a tattoo in a really unholy place), this is just filth okay

a/n: i have been sitting on the bulk of this piece for a fucking month and am honestly so surprised i finished it. this was inspired by a picture i saw of a really naughty tattoo and my mind want crazy and vomited on to a google doc.

hymn: nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations.”

Ukai Keishin is a gentle man. The team of highschoolers he coaches, his friends, hell, even his mother would beg to differ. But they were not privy to the Keishin you know. The man that serenades you with Elvis Presley while cleaning up after closing the store, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a clumsy slow dance as his gravelly voice croons into your ear. 

He’s entrancing. Hypnotizing you, almost two years ago now, in the most tender pursuit possible, so softly you were unaware of falling deeply in love with him until you had already tipped completely over. Turning to an ink pen and scraps of receipt paper to flesh out the feelings he worried would not sound perfect when they hit your ears. To this day, you’re not entirely sure if he meant to leave the pages to his extemporaneous romance novel for you to find on purpose, but you have your suspicions.

You were in your second year of college when you met Keishin, only 20 years old at the time and clueless to any world outside of studying frantically from one exam to the next. Chasing after a degree you could pursue your dreams with and getting tattoos that would piss your parents off, you crashed into him, literally. 

While walking to class with practiced steps and flipping through a small stack of notecards, you frantically try to accomplish last minute cramming and making it to class promptly at the same time. With one final attempt to understand the scribbles in front of you, you take a sharp turn into a brick wall. A flurry of white papers thrown into the air and falling back down like snow.

It happened in a minute, a minute that held sixty of the longest seconds to ever pass; from the moment you smack your nose into his cemented chest to the moment he saves your head from kissing the ground below. “You need to watch where you’re going, kid.” He says with a cigarette pressed between his teeth. It all happened in that single minute, your soul escaping and crawling into his jacket pocket without even realizing. It’s been there ever since, for safekeeping, of course.

He’s perfect in every way. But just as he is soft and loving, Ukai is not one to take shit. Especially when his sweet, shy baby girl is being a raging brat. It’s like any normal fall afternoon, slightly chilly and crisp on your walk from class. The air is biting at your skin, but the temperature is not what sends a piercing shiver down your spine. You know that as soon as you get home, Ukai Keishin is going to ruin you. 

“What are you doing here, princess?” Your presence is made known with a soft ding from the bell above the door, but Ukai doesn't look up from his magazine when acknowledging you. 

“I live upstairs?” Your tone is light and playful. You decide to test the waters, wondering how much Keishin will let slide today.

“Don’t be dense, little one.” He graces you with his eye contact for the first time, “I know you have a Biology lecture on Friday afternoons. So, why is that cute little ass here instead of on campus?” His lips are pulled tightly in a thin line and he rakes his eyes down your body. You’re wearing a short pleated skirt and a baggie pull-over. Exactly what he picked out for you this morning. Well, almost exactly. He was already opening up the store by the time you woke up, so the clothes were placed neatly on his side of the bed. What he didn’t pick out though, were the stockings currently brandishing your mid thigh, cutting off the supple skin with the soft, black cotton. 

“Oh! My professor cancelled lecture today so I came home early to have lunch with my loving boyfriend.” You smile sweetly, dropping your backpack and rounding the corner of the counter he is sat at. Ukai hums softly- dismissively- and lights a cigarette, his eyes don’t give away any emotion, so you are left hanging off the end of the burning cherry. Has he caught on yet? Maybe the thigh-highs would be enough to distract from your real surprise. 

Before you can ruminate on the thought, a wide, kind smile spreads across his face. If you didn’t know any better, this smile would be comforting. Your boyfriend pats his lap, motioning for you to take a seat. You adjust yourself to fit snugly and lean into Keishin’s chest. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple and takes a drag from his cigarette. Customers trickle in slowly, and you stand a few times to ring up their purchases, always the dutiful girlfriend. Keishin watches you with adoration in between paging through a magazine, everything you did was so perfect, even if it’s just scanning a few groceries. Such a good girl you are. 

It’s not until you sit back down, and he adjusts your hips to settle back into him that he is made aware of the game you’re trying to play. And he is pissed.

“Princess, did you not like the clothes I picked out for you this morning?” He has fully caught on to you at this point, and you both know it, but he isn’t going to show you his hand quite yet. 

“Of course I did, Daddy.” You bury your burning cheek into his neck, letting the familiar smell of cologne and campfires calm your clambering heartbeat. 

“I see, then why are you wearing these…” Keishin’s voice trails off and pulls at the material of the thigh-highs, snapping it against your skin.  

“Actually,” he interrupts, “I have a more important question. But I need you to be a good girl and answer honestly.” Keishin whispers into the shell of your ear and nods a goodbye to the elderly man leaving the store. You two were alone now, the promise of other customers wandering in diminishing quickly with the time of day. 

“I’ll be a good girl Daddy.” You try to coat your words in velvet as best as you can, but Keishin scoffs, clearly unamused. 

“That’s rich, princess. Now tell me, did you go to campus this morning without panties on?” You knew the question he was going to pose, you could have even saved him the breath. You knew you were going to get caught, I mean, that is why you did it. But now, faced with having to atone for your sins, the confidence in your original actions was melting away. 

“I forgot to put panties on this morning, Daddy. I’m sorry.” You try to pout in the sweetest way possible, but Keishin knows. You’re lying through your teeth.

“Tsk, you forgot. How could you forget if I laid them right on top of your skirt this morning?” He fishes in his pocket and pulls out a damning article. As he moves the exhibit into evidence, light pink thong hanging off of fingers, you resolve that your little game was over long before you even tried to start. All you can do now is wait with baited breath and flushed cheeks for his next move. 

“Stand up princess.” Ukai grabs onto your hip bones and lifts you upward. He spins you around to face him and perches his elbows on his knees. “Show me what’s mine baby girl.” His request, his demand, rolls off the tongue like icicles. You know what he means, but still stare back dumbly, mouth wide at what he was insinuating.

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, little girl.” His words stir inside you. If he sees how wet you’re getting, you’re done for. There’s no escaping this moment though. You take a deep breath in a feeble fight against the suffocating feeling in your chest, and lift up the end of your short, black skirt so he can see you. All of you.

Your precious, sumptuous thighs now in his view. He studies the lines of the tattoos not covered with your stockings. Beautiful floral designs in delicate black ink. Keishin thinks the work you get done is always so beautiful. Every addition befitting you perfectly. He loves tracing the pads of his fingers over the art in softer moments. This moment though, was not soft, and the tattoos on your thighs were not the subject of Ukai’s attention. 

He flicks his eyes up to meet yours briefly, and trails down from your quivering bottom lip, to your delicate, freckled collarbones peering sweetly from your large sweater. He drags his darkening gaze down further, cherishing every inch until he reaches your hips. Nestled in between the apex of your thighs, in small, dainty writing lays his prize.

“My Daddy Will Kill You.”

No matter what you did, he would always be there, snugly under the second layer of skin. When his fingers weren’t intertwined in yours, when he couldn’t have a protective hand in your back pocket. Whenever he was away with his team for tournaments or just when you were in class. He was always on you.

“Such a gorgeous little cunt you have.” He leans back in his seat, watching you fidget under his stare, “Whose cunt is this, baby? Is it your classmates? Is it your professors?” You bow your head in shame at Ukai’s insinuation, you know that going to class with a bare ass and a short skirt was going to get you in trouble. How could you resist though, when the punishment always feels so good.

“You’ve been acting like a petulant brat recently. I’ve been letting things slide because I know how stressful your senior year of college has been.” His tone is exasperated, but his eyes are calm, level, dark, “I can’t ignore this, you know that right?”

“I know, Daddy.”

“Your class was cancelled. So that means we get to start the weekend early.” He pulls your hands from your skirt, letting it fall back into place and holds both of your hands in one of his much larger ones. “Go upstairs and sit on the bed. I want you in just your skirt and those cute little tights you were so keen on wearing. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“But Daddy…” you really did like to test your luck sometimes, but the look he gives you, slightly shocked and more than lightly infuriated, was enough to make you hurry to the back and up the stairs to your shared apartment. You kick your sneakers off at the door and head straight to the bedroom. You pull the sweater over your head and unclasp your bra. Usually Keishin likes to do that step for you, savoring the way you shiver as he brushes the straps off of your shoulders, but today isn’t a day of honey-sweet ministrations. 

You tremble like a puppy as you wait for Ukai and almost jump out of your own skin when you hear the front door creek open. Usually you are met with a bellowing voice upon his entry, walking through the door with a hearty, “Honey, I’m home!” even if you had only walked in a few steps ahead. Now, all you can do is wait as he mulls about the apartment with lackadaisical intent and a deafening silence. After a few agonizing minutes and feeling like he made his point, Ukai finally appears in the doorway, arms folded and pressed tightly to his hard chest with a categorically sadistic smile on his face.

“So, you do know how to follow directions?” You gulp loudly and nod your head, but quickly correct yourself. If you don’t use your words you’ll make things worse for yourself. “Yes, Daddy. I know how to follow directions.” It’s not a lie, obviously you are aware of his rules, you just prefer breaking them. Your response is small compared to the loud, sarcastic laugh falling from his throat. Ukai steps towards you slowly. 

“You are such a little tease, I came up to kiss you goodbye this morning and found these still sitting on the bed.” He pulls the thong out of his pocket again and drops the lace into your lap. “You left them there because you wanted me to find them. You wanted me to know you were sitting in class with a bare cunt.” There’s no use trying to find an excuse to push past your locked jaw, because he’s not really asking a question. 

“I left them on purpose, Daddy. I’m sorry.” Your mea culpa is underwhelming to say the least, and you both know it. You may be pleading guilty to all charges, but you don’t seem eager for absolution. 

“You are such a little attention whore. My timid, darling girl has been acting like an insolent slut recently. What am I going to do with you?” His voice sounds questioning, but unmistakingly rhetorical. He’s known what he was going to do to you from the moment he spotted your panties weighing the bed down this morning.

“Turn around baby.” Ukai unbuckles his belt, and you turn away from him, tucking your legs to sit upright. He gathers your long h/c hair from where it was settled around your face and meticulously braids it to lay flat on your back, attaching the green scrunchy from his wrist to the bottom. 

Just like a calling card, Keishin always had a scrunchy of yours around his wrist. Whenever you are hunched over the kitchen table in the middle of writing a paper, he pulls your hair behind you and fastens it into a bun, careful to keep it loose so as to not invite a headache, and kisses the crown of your head. Regardless of where you are: shopping, date night, visiting him at practice, if he notices your hair becoming annoying he will slip it from your neck and twist it into the green scrunchy.

And when you are about to be punished, Ukai pulls your hair into a neat, low braid.

You feel him run his hands from your shoulders to your wrists, pulling them gently behind your back. He presses your palms together and gives them a squeeze so you know to keep them together. Ukai pulls off his shirt, and  frees his undone belt from his jeans, folding it in half and running the cool leather up your thigh. He swats softly at your skin, just enough to make you flinch. 

Ukai tosses the belt to the ground, deciding he would rather you feel the sting of his palm, and sits down next to you on the bed. You face him with your hands still laced together behind you and let him position you to lay across his lap. The side of your face and your shoulders lay flush against the bed and your ass is raised up above his jean-clad thighs. 

“You know the rules, right my love?”

“Yes, Daddy. If I lose count you have to start over.”

“There’s my smart girl. You look so beautiful like this.” He lands a smack on your right cheek, actions greatly contrasting his soft, almost taunting tone. “It’s such a shame you’ve been acting like such a whore.” 

He delivers slap after slap on your bruising ass and you count every one out to him, briefly considering what would happen if you stopped counting, but you know that your punishment is already going to be harsh enough. You’re a masochist, yes, but not an idiot. 

“Why do you always seem to be on your best behavior when I have you over my knee, darling?” Ukai connects his palm with your tender flesh again. “How many was that baby?” 

“Fifteen, Daddy.” You speak in an even tone, if your boyfriend catches on to how much more you like this than he already knows, you’re, quite literally, fucked. 

“You really know how to play me, baby. I’m always wrapped around your little finger.” He starts to knead your ass cheek with his large hand, skimming the tips of his digits against your wanton cunt. He’s testing you, wanting to see if you’ll start squirming or unclasp your hands from their position behind your back, but you hold steady.

“You leave me naughty little surprises. I had you on my mind all day, thinking about this naked little pussy walking around campus. One tiny slip and you would have shown everyone what’s mine.” Another sharp swat to your butt reverberates through the room and you can barely mumble out your counted response. 

“But that’s what you wanted isn’t it? You wanted everyone to see this slutty pussy of yours didn’t you?” Whether that was the truth or not doesn't actually matter, you know not to make an excuse. You are just meant to count and thank. 

“You need to stop squirming, princess, or you’re going to royally piss me off.” Ukai continues his relentless pace, two thick fingers pistoning deep in your dripping pussy. This was one of Ukai’s favorite games, finger-fucking you to the point of the bed under you slamming into the wall. Your job was to keep completely still. One arch of your back or escaped moan and he would land a sharp slap to your puffy, untended clit. 

He’s actually being quite generous despite the circumstances. Usually, you would be propped on your hands and knees, but Ukai has laid you flat on your back with one leg tossed over his broad shoulder. The position, while easier to keep your body still, does mean that Ukai’s piercing, hungry gaze has you pinned like prey under him. The completely pornografic sounds of his fingers are making your head spin. The fact that he’s been hammering his fingers relentlessly into your g-spot for an hour, is starting to make your mind foggy, all thoughts are starting to slip from your brain and your boyfriend can tell.

“God, baby, I love making you absolutely stupid for me. I bet all you can think about is my cock filling this little cunt up, huh?” His words are sneering, taunting. Your response is a babbled agreement and plea for his cock, and the sight of you so completely fucked out makes the bulge in his jeans strain even further. The feeling of his fingers in your squelching pussy is dulling all other senses, so when he pulls the digits away, you can’t help the cry that rips from the back of your throat. 

“Don’t worry, precious girl, I’m going to give you what you want. What you’re fucking desperate for.” Ukai pushes himself from the bed and removes his jeans and boxers, and you watch as his thick cock springs free to slap against his abdomen. The sound makes you mewl, your cunt clenching in anticipation. 

As Ukai crawls back onto your shared bed, his head dips down in between your legs. He licks, flat and languid across your slit, collecting your arousal on his tongue with a feral groan.

“Please, Daddy. Please fuck me. I- I need you. Wa- want to be your good girl.” You find your words as best as you can to beg for him, the sweet cadence of your voice and the way your weak arms reach out for his messy bleached hair signals to him that you’ve fallen completely into a foggy, submissive haze. You tug lightly at the tresses and the impressive self-control he has kept up thus far snaps like plywood under a heavy boot. 

Ukai takes one more deep, hungry lick at your soaking pussy and sits up, pushing your legs further apart, digging his nails into the soft skin under your knees. 

“Open your mouth, Princess.” You are quick to comply with his request, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. You hear the sound of him spitting, his saliva and your arousal coats the thickest plane of your tongue, but connecting one thought to the next becomes impossible as Ukai pushes his thick cock into you at the same time.

“Jesus Christ, no matter how much time I take to get you ready you’re still so tight. God, you make it really hard to stay mad at you.” His hands keep your legs pressed up to your chest, pushing his thick cock into you at an agonizingly lazy pace. Ukai was right, it didn’t matter that he had finger-fucked you into the mattress for an hour, taking him was a tight fit every time. As he buries himself in you, the intoxicating burn of being so full takes all of the air out of your chest. His thick cock stretches you so far, you swear he can feel your own heartbeat within the walls of your tiny cunt. He’s barely halfway into you and you can’t help but constrict, the tinny flavor of your orgasm crawling up from your spine to your mouth. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you cum already.” Ukai snickered sadistically, thumb brushing across your tattoo, the dirty secret you shared, right over where you need his fingers most. He wasn’t going to touch your deprived clit yet, and hoping for him to do so was a waste of energy. 

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise, I’ll be good.” Your tears are rolling down the side of your face, wetting the sheet next to you. 

“You’re a pathetic mess and I’m not even all the way in you yet. I would save the tears if I were you, babydoll.” You try to compose yourself, but Ukai’s words of dismissive degradation give your whimpers more body, sobbing and babbling as his cock bottoms out. 

You can feel every inch of him, hard and thick and so so full inside of you. Ukai pulls out of you completely, his soaking tip rubbing on your labia before slamming back in to the hilt. His pace becomes brutal with every thrust, original slow pace completely unknown to you now. There’s no way you're going to be able to stand properly after this. 

“Daddy, please. Please let me cum. Need to cum, Daddy. Need to be your good girl.” A series of calls for your daddy and prayerful begs are the only things you know at this point, drool and tears covering your face.

“You know what, Princess? I bet I could make you cum with just one touch to that little clit.” Ukai takes one hand off of your thigh and hovers over where you have needed him since you woke up this morning. “If I’m right, I’ll make you cum again. If I’m wrong, you’re not gonna cum at all.”

You can feel the warmth of his finger looming over the neglected bud, the anticipation is overwhelming and cruel, but all worth it as soon as he pushes the rough pad of his thumb down. Ukai presses a single, taught circle into your clit and the coil wound tightly in your stomach snaps with incredible force. You know there is a scream that rips from your dry mouth, but you can’t hear it with the blood rushing through your ears. Ukai works you through your first orgasm, stilling his thrusts as until you come floating back down.

“I know this slutty little cunt better than the back of my hand. Now, my precious little thing,” You watch as Ukai hooks your limp legs over his shoulders, lining his throbbing cock back to your slopping entrance. “Let’s do that a couple more times.”

“Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

You feel your senses coming back to you slowly, with every delicate touch Keishin glides over your skin. He pulls you back to reality with sweet touches and the deep, gravely sound of his voice. After several meticulous moments and even more words of praise, Kei delivers a delicate kiss to your forehead and carries you to the shower. You take a deep, relaxed sigh as he massages your aching muscles under the hot water. After drying your exhausted body with a fluffy towel, Keishin helps you into a comfy pair of leggings and one of his sweatshirts. 

“Take my hand. Take my whole heart too.” Your boyfriend’s broad arms wrap around your waist, hands finding purchase under the orange sweatshirt currently drowning your form, and you melt into his chest. “Because I can’t help, falling in love with you.” You turn around in his arms to steal a kiss, but as your lips attach to his a small laugh bubbles up from your stomach. 

“What are you giggling at?” Keishin eyes you curiously, and you start laughing even harder.

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the bloody nose you gave me when we first met.” You cackle at the memory and feel Keishin take an exasperated but amused sigh, joining your laughter with his own.

“First of all, Princess, you ran into me.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!! 

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library. 

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table. 

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.” 

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table. 

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair. 

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes. 

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept. 

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice. 

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing. 

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant. 

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses. 

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff. 

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky. 

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip. 

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons. 

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide. 

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.  

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears. 

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies 

Olivia: :( 

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind. 

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp. 

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears. 

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body. 

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up. 

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile. 

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning. 

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee. 

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat. 

“So what are you chasing tonight?” 

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead. 

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously. 

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on. 

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return. 

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. 

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement. 

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow. 

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted. 

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed. 

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows. 

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence. 

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking. 

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued. 

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now. 

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober. 

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you. 

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night. 

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things. 

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before. 

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days. 

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. 

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did. 

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own. 

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off. 

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops. 

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall. 

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside. 

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you. 

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone. 

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again. 

---

🏷: @hopebaker​ @pogueslandia​ @mardema​

[leon-scott-kennedy]

Frostbitten

Chreon, Rated-T

Read on Ao3

Leon had barely kicked off his unbroken-in boots and flopped face-first on his bed when his phone rang. He groaned. Getting called back to the training field might kill him. Every inch of his body ached and throbbed after taking a literal beating for the last ten hours; he couldn’t be bothered to change out of his sweaty clothes, let alone shower. USSTRATCOM training was tough and the instructors tougher, but this was precisely what he had signed up for, a chance to help people, to make sure that Raccoon City never happened again.

The handset slid out of the cradle when Leon smacked it in his blind search. It hit the floor with a clunk, half suspended by the cord.

“Shit.”Leon grabbed the phone and rolled onto his back. “This better be important.”

“Rough day?”

Leon sat up, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “Chris?”

Weeks ago, Leon tracked down Chris long enough to send an email warning him that Claire had gotten herself into some deep shit and needed a hand, and then handily tacked on his new number in a hastily added PS. But, unfortunately, Leon himself was a bit busy with his so-called new job, which so far consisted of him having his ass handed to him on a regular basis, and he hadn’t been in contact with Chris or Claire since Raccoon City two months ago.

Honestly, Leon had hoped the Redfield siblings had found each other and were off chasing Umbrella and saving the world together, but apparently not. Coupled with Leon and Sherry having seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet for weeks, Chris had been a little desperate when Leon finally managed to send an encrypted email.

“How’s it going, rookie?”

Leon snorted and flopped back on the mattress, tucking his free arm behind his head, his fatigue melting away. “Oh, you know.”

“That good, huh. I know you can’t tell me what’s going on, but are you okay?”

Always with the tough questions. Leon sighed, but his stomach gave a funny little flip. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“I definitely owe you one.”

“I think we’re about even.” Leon wasted nights alone in bed thinking about the night he spent buried against Chris Redfield’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him as he fell apart when Raccoon City was still a smouldering ruin on the horizon. Leon yearned for that level of comfort and warmth. “Did you find her?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I found her. But, we lost someone.”

Leon’s chest ached. How many people was that now? How many people had they lost in this war that they hadn’t even been aware they were fighting. Umbrella destroyed so many lives; hurt so many people. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Condolences - apology, solace, commiseration - hung thick in the air between them, so many words left unsaid. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry I left, that I abandoned you when you needed me; I wish you were here.

“How’s Sherry?”

“She’s good,” Leon lied. His stomach clenched painfully at the thought of the little girl he and Claire had managed to save from the city. The one thing Leon had done right.

Except, the first thing the government had done was take Sherry from Leon, separated them, interrogated him for days until they finally held her life above his head like a guillotine. His visitation remained few and far between, but she was alive and well taken care of, and that’s what mattered. Even if she’d traded one lab for another.

“Good. That’s good. Listen, Claire and I are back home getting things in order, but we both want to see you. Without you, I wouldn’t have found her.”

“Chris, seriously. It was nothing. I just passed on the information I had.” Leon twirled his finger absentmindedly in the phone cord. “I couldn’t get to her, but knew you could. I’m glad you found her.”

“You’re in DC, right?”

“What? Yeah. Listen, Chris-” Leon tried.

“We’re going to drive down for the weekend before we fly back to England next week. We’re putting together a team, but Claire really wants to see you. I want to see you. I need to thank you.”

Leon scrubbed his hand across his mouth and stared helplessly up at the stucco ceiling. Chris wasn’t going to take no for an answer, not that Leon wanted him to. On the contrary, he wanted to see them as badly as they wanted to see him.

“The weekend should be fine,” Leon said. “I usually have them off unless they decide to airdrop me into the center of a national park with nothing but a combat knife and a flask. I mean, no guarantees, but, you know.”

“Jesus Christ, Leon. What have you gotten yourself into?”

Leon grimaced. “Unfortunately, that’s classified.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing.” That made two of them, but Sherry’s life hung in the balance.

Chris and Leon hashed out tentative plans for the weekend. Claire and Chris would drive the nine hours down from Franklin County on Friday, which Leon found insane. Nine hours trapped in a vehicle with their sibling for a dude they barely knew, only to be met with disappointment because Leon wouldn’t be whatever they expected. All the same, he’d let them crash at his place for the weekend, and then they’d fly out of the Dulles International Sunday evening.

Warmth blossomed in Leon’s chest; hope. Things weren’t ideal. Yes, he’d been coerced into the service of his country, but he wanted to do what he couldn’t in Raccoon City; save people, make Umbrella pay for their crimes. Maybe he could have done that alongside friends, allies, or Chris. Instead, the acute loneliness tingled in the back of his mind, a constant reminder that he had been abandoned. Not on purpose, no, but his naivety showed weakness.

The call ended with a promise, like their last separation, a reluctance to part, but a promise of companionship, of warmth, of friendship that was almost destined to end in grief. Leon couldn’t help the anticipation that bloomed.

Leon noisily clattered the headset back into the cradle and took stock of his tiny bedroom cluttered with dirty clothes, plates, a half-empty glass of water, and first aid supplies. “Fuck.”

Cleaning the apartment wouldn’t be so bad considering his severe lack of possessions, and he had three days before visitors arrived. Not that either of the Redfield’s would care about the clutter and shortage of furniture. If anything, they would understand. So much had been lost the day Racoon City disappeared in a mushroom cloud. Still, he tidied every moment he had between beatings, lectures, and exams.

Friday morning, the apartment was shockingly spotless except for the freshly used coffee mug in the sink. Loading it into the half-empty dishwasher wouldn’t have been all that difficult if Leon wasn’t already running behind schedule. The commute to the training center took twenty minutes on a good day if he obeyed all traffic laws.

Today likely wouldn’t be one of those days since he was due for roll-call in seven minutes, which seemed pointlessly ridiculous as he was the only agent in training. But the government liked to make him jump through hoops, literally.

Each course they had him run became increasingly complex and ludicrous to the point that Leon failed more than ninety percent of the time. With each fall, one instructor that he didn’t know the name of, only called Sir, yelled “dead” as if it wasn’t already abundantly clear that one mistake would be a death sentence in the field. Something he probably knew that better than the assholes pulling the strings. None of the big wigs had lived the hell he lived, seen what he had seen, and relived what he relived every night alone twisted in the sheets of his bed.

By the time Leon trudged through the front door of his tiny apartment, two hours later than planned, his entire side was mottled blue and purple from the fresh thrashing at the hands of his close combat instructor. His hand to hand had improved the most over the last month with the help of his natural flexibility and agility that earned him a few jokes about how he should have joined the circus. But they were impressed.

Nothing about his training was normal, even he knew that. Nothing like the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team had been formed before, people had never been reanimated from the dead by a virus before, and they were trying to prepare him for the worst. A nightmare they had never experienced themselves, but he had.

The phone rang. Leon groaned, staggering as he pivoted where he had been about to face-plant on the couch, and headed for the phone in the bedroom.

“Hello?” Leon said, almost certain it was Agent Benford with a new brutal assignment. He sagged onto the bed in relief, curling onto his side when the increasingly familiar greeting of ‘hey, rookie” rumbled in his ear. “Chris.”

“Thank god. Where have you been? This is the fourth time we tried calling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Leon groaned as his side twinged. “Got, uh, caught up at the... office.”

“You sound like you’re in rough shape.”

Leon hummed. “Been worse.” A sad truth.

“We were calling to say we’re an hour out, but now that’s more like ten minutes,” Chris said, and Claire shouted something unintelligible in the background. “Oh, right. Remind me to give you this number. Claire made me get one of those Nokias so she can keep track of me.”

Claire screeched indignantly, and Leon snickered. “I’ve got a pager,” he offered as consolation. All that much easier to be at the government’s beck and call, but if Chris ever needed him, or Claire, or Sherry.

Leon rattled off a few quick directions to get the Redfield’s to his place, then hung up the phone and rolled out of bed to shower. The hot water stung the fresh bruising, his muscles ached, but he felt human the more he scrubbed away the sweat and grime.

The buzzer for the front door rang as Leon eased a fresh t-shirt on over his head; his shoulder twinged, but he limped over to buzz them up.

A few minutes later, since the building’s elevator took years because of the ‘historic’ value as the real estate agent had put it, someone knocked at the door in a frantic staccato. Leon swung the door open, hair still damp, and was immediately tackled in a hug.

Fight or flight kicked in, Leon’s brain came back online in fits and started in time to hug the small woman hugging him tightly rather than throw her over his shoulder. Claire’s mouth ran a mile a minute. Apparently, he had been missed, and Claire didn’t appear to want to release him anytime soon if the creaking of his ribs were anything to go by.

Leon stared helplessly over her head at Chris, who laughed, but pried his sister off Leon so he could drag him in a hug too. Chris enveloped Leon in a bear hug. That level of high alert that itched in the back of his mind for months ebbed, not disappeared, but faded enough that Leon enjoyed the moment, squeezing Chris back just as tight.

“Come in,” Leon said as he stepped back and waved them into his tiny apartment. “It’s not much, but, you know.”

Claire and Chris shucked their shoes and jackets and wandered into the apartment. Claire scrutinized every little detail or lack thereof. Decoration wasn’t exactly at the top of Leon’s priorities. Nevertheless, he had what he needed: a couch, a TV, a coffee table that doubled as his kitchen table, and a mattress in the bedroom. No bedframe, but he wasn’t picky. Clean sheets and a blanket, and he was good to go.

“It’s, ahh...” Chris trailed off as he glanced around the sparse room.

“What are you, a squatter?” Claire cut in. She stood in front of the mostly empty closet she’d opened.

“Okay, I was going to say it’s a bit Spartan,” Chris said. He slapped a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. “Can’t be easy to start all over from nothing, again.”

Leon rubbed the back of his neck, shoulders slumped. “I did warn you guys. Not much to do.”

Chris hummed, his hand dropping from Leon’s shoulder as he wandered off to the kitchen. “You got beer?” The fridge was stocked with two six-packs of cheap beer, a bottle of ketchup, a carton of 2%, and eggs.

“I’ll order food,” Claire said, glancing around, but the phone wasn’t in sight. Leon directed her to the bedroom, where his mattress sat on the floor against the wall. “Jesus Christ, Leon, is that a milk crate?” Clearly, she’d found the bedside table with the phone and takeout menus.

Groaning, Leon sank down onto his couch and buried his face in his hands. The cushions sank beside him as a much larger body sat down. Leon peeked out from between his fingers at Chris, who smiled sadly at him.

“If you need anything-” Chris started.

“I’m fine.” Leon ran his fingers through his damp hair and slouched so his elbows rested on his knees. “Not a lot of time to do much these days, you know, between the daily ass kickings and memorizing a million and one protocols.”

Chris mirrored Leon’s posture. “You could always come with us.”

Leon shook his head.

“Leon-”

“I can’t,” Leon snapped in time for Claire to walk out of the bedroom.

For a second, Claire paused, eyes bouncing between the heavy tension that hung between them. “I ordered Chinese. Did I miss something?”

“No,” Chris and Leon said at the same time.

The food didn’t take long to arrive. The delivery guy, already familiar with Leon’s apartment, joked that he had company for once. The restaurant had even thrown in some free spring rolls for one of their best customers. Sad, considering he’d only been in DC for a little over a month.

The three of them settled on the couch together; Leon squashed in the middle of the sofa, pressed against Chris because Claire had claimed one end with her feet up and tucked her toes under Leon’s thigh. They’d settled for a cheesy action movie they found flipping through channels, something with a bus that couldn’t stop, but ignored it in favour of light conversion, mostly Claire. Neither Chris nor Leon were much in the way of conversationalists. Still, Chris offered a tidbit here and there, and Leon hummed along, nodding when need be, and occasionally offered the occasional dry joke that had Chris and Claire in stitches. Chris nearly snorted beer out his nose when he made an off-the-cuff remark about the first day always being the easiest.

Pleasantly buzzed from a few beers and noodles heavy in his belly, Leon began to nod off, his head helplessly bobbing with the weight of fatigue.

Distantly, Leon heard a chuckle. His head plopped down on the closest shoulder, broad and warm, and the last thing he remembered was Claire wiggling her toes under his thigh and giggling.

When Leon woke up to his bladder screaming, the apartment was dark. For a brief second, he panicked when he discovered his mobility restricted, but his foggy mind pieced together the clues to form a complete picture. He was still on the couch, curled into Chris’ side, nose pressed into Chris’ neck. The arm slung around Leon’s shoulder held in him what couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than a secure embrace. They were barely covered by what Leon quickly realized was the thin comforter from his bed because Claire, curled up on the other end of the couch, had stolen most of the blanket, leaving Chris and Leon with a tiny corner.

Leon eased himself out of Chris’ protective hold and slipped off the couch, tucking Chris back under the blanket so he could escape to the safety of the bathroom in what was becoming a pattern. Wake up cuddled with a man he barely knew, panic, then flee.

The moonlight through the clouded window lit the bathroom enough for Leon to piss and wash his hands without hitting the light. He stood, hands braced on the edge of the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were lighter, and his hair was a wild tangle after falling asleep with it still damp. Even if he looked less tired, he was exhausted. He shivered. DC winters were colder than he was used to.

Shuffling back into the living room, Leon found Claire stretched further out on the couch, having used Leon’s absence to steal the very little room Leon had occupied beside Chris. “That seems about right,” he said, then jumped when Chris’ head popped up from where it had been stretched out against the back of the couch. “Oh! Sorry, I can just...” Leon waved vaguely back down the hall towards his bedroom.

Chris lifted his corner of the blanket in invitation.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Leon argued, rubbing his arm. “I can just sleep in my bed.”

“Isn’t this your blanket?” Chris asked.

Leon shivered in the cool December chill. “It’s not that cold.”

“Leon.”

Leon slunk back to the couch under Chris’ watchful gaze and tried to find space, but Claire’s sprawl left no room for Leon to squeeze back into. He hovered for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, but the choice was taken from him when Chris grabbed him around the middle and hauled him down over his lap. Leon squawked, slapping a hand over his mouth. His butt nestled between the arm of the couch and Chris’ thigh, his legs thrown over Chris’ lap.

For almost a full minute, Leon stared at Chris open-mouthed, unable to do anything but blink like a startled owl while his attacker shook with silent laughter.

“Cat got your tongue, rookie?” Chris snickered.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Leon snapped his jaw closed, pursed his lips and purposefully flung an arm around Chris’ shoulders before wiggling until he was burrowed tightly into the warmth of Chris’ side like a kitten. Still, it took a few minutes for Leon to relax enough to sink into the heat of the body beneath him, Chris grinning a challenge to him. Leon rolled his eyes and stuck the cold tip of his nose into Chris’ neck.

“Christ, Kennedy,” Chris said as a stilted shudder ran through him, but wrapped Leon in an inflexible hug like the first night they met, the night Leon’s anxiety and doubt demanded the comfort of another person, the night he still dreamt about. “What are you? Part snowman?”

“Popsicle, but thanks for asking,” Leon mumbled.

Tucked under a small corner of the worn comforter he found in a thrift shop his first night in the city, Leon tilted headfirst into the satisfaction and comfort of Chris Redfield. Most men would have balked at even the idea of cuddling with another man, but Leon had never been like other men. He’d learned early in life to take comfort where he could because kindness was often isolated incidents of empathy.

The smell of coffee tickled Leon’s nose. He was hot, a little too hot, and a little sweaty, but he was comfortable, safe. He pressed into the warmth, groaning quiet contentment when the heat squeezed back until a sharp snort and a giggle shocked him into alertness like a splash of ice water.

Leon’s eyes snapped open. Claire grinned at him from the far end of the couch, legs pulled up to sit cross-legged, hand curled around a steaming mug of coffee. “Morning.”

Ao3

[yourmcu]

Mesmerized (iii)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Request:

@lostaurorax​ said:

hii!! i love ur writing i was wondering if u could write a natasha x reader fic were reader is part of the guardians of the galaxy and they come to the compound and natasha is just starstruck but reader plays kinda hard to get and then just a bunch of fluff !

Word count: 2,138

A/n: notes at the end

Warnings: crash, mentions of explosion, swearing, space mission, soft!nat, quill’s a jerk

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Your departure from Earth made its one-year mark.

Natasha hasn’t felt like herself since you left. She’s known you for a few months but it felt like ages, it felt like she knew everything about you from the amount of time you spent together.

It’s not like you had a choice. The guardians needed you and of course you’re gonna be there for them too. They saved your ass countless of time and, well, they’re your family.

“Shit!”

Natasha frowns, leaning forward a bit from her sitting position. “What’s wrong?”

You fail to respond back. You curse once more in realization that you had no more ammo left in your guns, using your fire conjuring abilities is risky in this situation too, given on what type of creatures you're fighting.

Rocket is still determined to fight but you know he’s not gonna make it alive so you pick him up and sprint to your ship.

“I had it under control!” The raccoon yells.

“You’re kidding, right? The others already left!” You boom, fiddling with the buttons and levers of the ship to try and start it. The rattling of the monsters behind getting you frazzled. “Fucking-”

“Out of the way before you burn the controls, I got it.”

You go to the back part of the ship to reload all your weapons. You sigh in relief when Rocket managed to start the ship.

The mission went horribly wrong. People died and you were outnumbered. You almost set Groot on fire because of how overwhelmed you were, the fact that Quill was expressing how pissed he was at you didn’t help. Usually the team had every mission handled and sorted. You weren’t used to losing.

And you forgot Natasha is still connected to the call.

She just listens further. It's more silent than earlier so she figured you got away from whatever happened, but she's ready to try and help whatever it takes even though she's a thousand miles away.

“Quill’s not responding,” you frown, frantically searching the back of the ship for the backup weapons. “He must’ve turned his comms off. Can you contact the other ship there?”

“No, offline,” Rocket mumbles, more focused on getting the ship moving. “But geez, you and him have to sort things out.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Save it, we’re still being followed!” Rocket swerves in attempt to knock off the creatures - who're still actively chasing the spaceship. They could fly, and there are a lot. You couldn’t imagine anything like it.

You try your best to fight them off through the spacious hatch on top, but of course you have no match for all of them. You wish Thor was here. As far as you knew he's sorting Asgard things out with Valkyrie.

Every minute just gets worse. The flight gets unstable the more those creatures are catching up, you're surprised they're so determined to destroy both of you.

“Can you go any faster?!”

“I can’t, can I?!” Rocket's driving and pressing multiple buttons for the jump at the same  time.

“Y/N,” Natasha calls out, hoping you could still hear her. “I can tell the team if you need any help-”

On your end, she just got more blasters and guns going off, orders flying between you and the raccoon.

“We need to shake them off, this ship’s not gonna handle them,” You say exasperated. “I’m gonna cause a distraction, got it? You need to get us out of here - anywhere - I don’t care how many jumps it takes!”

Rocket, as rare as it is, displays concern in his face, but he sighs and grips on the levers. “Ready when you are.”

You suck in a breath, letting out a huge burst of what seems like fire and just - heat, aiming at the creatures closest to the ship. It gets nearly all of them. The raccoon mutters a quick countdown, watching you fall unconscious from the hatch in the corner of his eye. He pushes the lever forward slowly, jumping to the one place he knows the both of you could get help.

Earth.

-

As soon as you let yourself go, Natasha loses the connection. The intensity of you using your powers like that might’ve affected it.

“God,” she mutters, pacing around her table, “Friday, you still have contact on that ship?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff,” the A.I responds, and for a moment, a huge explosion sounded somewhere in the forest near the compound. “...and they just landed. Would you like me to send you the exact coordinates?”

Of course Natasha doesn’t waste time to go out and find you. Thankfully Steve is around and was shaken by the sudden explosion too. It’s snowing, the forest covered with thick snow so it wouldn’t be hard to find wherever the ship crashed.

“She’ll be alright, Nat. We’ll find her.” Steve reassures.

Natasha’s breath hitches at the sight of the aircraft completely destroyed, pieces everywhere, she wasted no time to find you under all the rubble.

The unconscious raccoon isn’t hard to find, but you had it worse considering you were already out before the crash.

“Steve,” she states, walking over scraps and metal to get to you. You're sickly pale, giving Natasha the feeling that she's too late but she did feel a slight pulse. There’s blood on the side of your forehead but other than that,

“She’s freezing,” and it isn’t from the snow alone, she thought. You're colder than that. Natasha has an arm around your back and behind your knees, getting ready to carry you. “Steve, we-”

“I’ll call Bruce to get them sorted out. Try and find their stuff that’s not destroyed.” His tone is firm. He doesn’t wait for a response, gently grabbing you from her and strides back to the compound.

Natasha sighs. Almost everything she sees is unrecognizable except for a few complicated looking guns that definitely looks like Rocket’s and your bag you took on one of your dates. Biting the inside of her cheek, she opens it, sighing in relief when everything inside looked in order.

She finds a wallet-sized picture of both of you at a fair's photo booth. You always held onto it and kept it in your pocket most of the time that's why it looks worn out, probably from you holding it so much. This makes Natasha's heart ache, deciding to keep it for the meantime, carrying all your stuff that's left to the compound.

- You wake with a start. You're facing the clean white ceiling of the Avengers' med bay and you tilt your head to the side to see Natasha sleeping on a stool beside your bed with her head lulling forward and her arms are crossed. As much as you feel relieved to see her, you're confused on how you got here, how she found you. You lift your arm to gently pat the redhead awake. She sighs and goes to rub her neck. "You're cold." You smile softly, cringing at the rasp of your voice. "Didn't want you to be sore from the way you were sleeping." "I'm glad you're awake." "How long was I out?" Natasha gets up to get you a glass of water while you sit up the bed. "Twelve hours. You definitely needed the rest, everything sounded really crazy up there," she says. "Rocket's somewhere around, he left his bed the moment he got up." She hands you the glass and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. Feeling how cold you still are since they found you in the forest, she grabs a remote to crank the heater up a bit. You purse your lips and cross your legs, looking at her. "How'd you find us?" "Let's just say we heard the impact of the crash from here," Natasha eyes the bandages on the side of your head for a moment. "It was really lucky your ship crashed nearby, but you know I wouldn't hesitate to get on the jet just to find you. And when I did, I... I thought you were-"

Your hand immediately goes to cup her cheek, the contrast of warm and cold making Natasha relax in your touch. "I'm here now. You saved me." She returns your smile and holds onto your hand on her cheek. "I missed you." "I missed you too." "You know, I did specifically set those coordinates," Rocket says as he enters the room with Tony. "Technically I saved us." Your smile only widens and Natasha chuckles, turning to Tony to see what he has to say about your condition. "You really wore yourself out there fireball, is she still freezing cold?" He asks this to Natasha specifically and she nods. You furrow your eyebrows and turn to your fists, clenching them, only noticing now that you are freezing. "I'm gonna run a simple test and if all goes as expected, Bruce is gonna give you a shot." "Have you already got a conclusion on what happened to me?" You question. Tony pulls out something from his pocket. "Sure have. Now set this on fire." He tosses you a solid crumpled paper. Holding it between three fingers you expect it to turn into ash in your palm, but it stayed the way it is. You're looking at it now to help focus on setting it on fire but it still stayed as normal paper. Natasha grips you on the arm. "I think that's enough." "You went all out with your powers. I did see you let out an overwhelming amount when we were trying to outrun those creatures before you passed out." Rocket states. "Naturally it'll come back, but the shot should help you with your... body temperature and hopefully the speed of recovery." Tony adds. You groan, back landing on the pillow behind you. Not only does losing your powers suck but you aren't a big fan of needles either, but you'll deal with them if you really have to. Natasha's hand slowly crawls up to intertwine with yours, although her attention was still on Tony. "She's gonna have to stay here at least until she recovers, right?" She also looks at Rocket if he has any objections but he merely nods his head. "'Course, they're welcome here for as long as they want." Tony claps his hands together and dismisses himself, Rocket following behind. "In the meantime I'll be figuring out a way to build a new ship." The raccoon says before closing the door behind him. Natasha makes her way to sit beside you and you automatically scooch to make space and rest your head against her shoulder, taking a breath. "You alright?" You shrug. "I guess I do feel pretty useless without those powers. I mean, Quill without a doubt would never let me go on missions anymore. I'd just be a burden to everyone." She lets go of your hand to put around you. "Everything doesn't revolve around your powers, Y/N. You're not useless. I bet you could take that Quill guy down in a fist fight." You let out a chuckle, shaking your head. "What's that guy like anyway?" The sudden question makes your head perk up. "Oh, you know, Quill, he's a nice guy-" Natasha let out a noise, cutting you off. "Didn't sound like it while I was connected in the call." "He can be a mouthful to me sometimes," you admit quietly. "Not to everyone though, I do generally think he's a nice guy. I have no idea what I did that made him so pissed at me." You look up at her and she's staring at the wall, seeming like she's deep in thought. "He doesn't hurt you, does he?" "God, no. He's not like that," you say. "If he did want to of course I wouldn't just take it." Natasha smiles, "that's my girl." You hung your head low so she couldn't see the way you flushed at the phrase, biting your lip to hold in a smile. “I’m glad you have my back, though.”

“I always do. Always will.”

"So, when can I leave this room?"

"After Bruce gives you the shot, then we can do whatever we want." She tilts your head up to move your hair out of your face. You look at her with an amused expression, "where do you plan on taking me this time?” Natasha smirks at the question. She loves spending all her time with you and the sight of you enjoying yourself makes it better. "There’s a new bookstore open, thought you might like it. Also an amusement park. It’s a few hours away but I can always drive. Oh, Tony’s cabin. I’m sure he’d love you to meet his newborn Morgan.”

“Sounds like you have a list,” you muse.

Natasha hums, pulling you closer. “I do.”

-

final one!! no one’s really looking forward to this but I enjoyed writing it anyway :)

btw wrote this way before thor: love and thunder so i have no idea what him and the guardians are up to but i wish them the best

[shameless plug] check out this natasha ambience i made some people thought it was cool

[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter Five

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Warnings: Smut (18+)

 —————————————————————————————

Mason

 I had watched Katie and Ben leave hand in hand, absolutely seething. I had this awful sickening feeling in my stomach that I couldn’t quite understand. All i knew for sure was that I didn’t trust Ben. I had known him before he arrived at Chelsea and we had played together for England./ He had always seem like quite a sound lad, but there was just something about him that I didn’t like.

Christina had whined at me all night about dancing with her and when I refused had gone off in a huff to dance with a group of other guys on the dancefloor, grinding against them provocatively, as if that would ever make me mad. I had been going off her for a long time now, only clinging on to the relationship because I was scared of being on my own. 

My mind kept going back to Katie kissing Ben on the dancefloor. How he had held onto her, how she had run her hand through his hair. If I was honest with myself I knew why I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it because I wished that it were my hands on her. 

I had quietly admired her from afar for the entire previous season since returning from my loan at Derby County. In that entire time she had barely even said a word to me and that only made the longing feeling worse if anything. I’ve always enjoyed the thrill of the chase. 

I felt bad for silently celebrating the end of her long term relationship, which I found out about from one of the physios one day when casually asking why Katie looked so sad that day. She had always been quite a serious person fully invested in her job, but that day changed her and she had gone cold.

Now I was seeing her fire returning, and she was burning for Ben.

I thought all of these thoughts while Christina was on top of me, half heartedly grinding against me. She hated going on top, hated having sex with me in general really these days. I usually did all the work, taking all of my frustration out on her. But tonight she was drunk enough to do all the work, while I lay back against the pillows.

The only reason I was able to get hard and stay hard was because I was thinking about Katie. 

Christina started to move her hips a little faster against me then and I momentarily snapped out of my day dream, grabbing her hips firmly. Then I put the situation out of my head and concentrated on the fantasy of Katie on top of me.

A few moments later I felt her tighten around me and started to thrust up to meet her hips,cursing quietly under my breath “f-fuck.. Katie…”

It took a second for me to realise what I had said, my eyes snapping open to meet Christina’s but she was already rolling off of me and getting out of the bed to shower like she did after every time we had sex, wanting to wash the memory of me off of her. She was entirely oblivious.

 _______________________________________________________________

Katie

I woke up momentarily confused, the curtains still wide open from the day before allowed the sun to come streaming in and blinded me for a second.

My mouth felt uncomfortably dry and my head was slightly pounding. 

Rolling over I knocked into the side of Ben’s sleeping body and the memory of the previous night came back to me. 

I had slept with Ben, and we had barely even had a date. I scolded myself silently, wondering how I could be stupid enough to let a footballer sleep with me on the first night. I was probably one in a hundred girls that he had slept with early on and then never talked to again. 

He stirred and slung his arm across my stomach, pulling me in close against his chest, he nuzzled his head against my neck. I tried really hard not to smile at the fact that he was laying here cuddling me rather than getting up and running away straight away. 

“Stop fretting.” he mumbled quietly. His voice all low, sleepy and raspy sounding even more attractive than usual. “I’m not going anywhere…” he continued, now in a whisper, his lips moving to kiss my collarbone while his hand swept my hair out of the way. 

I breathed out a deep sigh of relief and relaxed into his arms. 

“Didn’t scare you away then?” I joked.

Disregarding the sex, this was the most intimate I had been with anyone since Rory. I tried not to show Ben how insecure I felt about being completely bare before him. 

“No way” he smirked. 

We were both silent for a minute, Ben was still holding me against him, his fingertips now trailing down my back. I was struggling to figure out what I should say to him now. Should I offer him some breakfast? Ask him to hang out with me today? It had been so long since I had brought someone home with me outside of a relationship that I had no idea what the post sex etiquette was. 

“What time is it?” Ben asked, lifting his head to look at the display on my alarm clock sat on the bedside table. 

I looked at it too, having to squint to read the display clearly due to the sunshine. “8.30”

He jolted slightly against me and then sat up. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry but there is somewhere that I need to be.” he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek but then offered no further explanation as he silently dressed.

I waited until his back was turned while he was putting his shoes and socks back on before I slipped out of the bed covers myself and threw a pair of shorts and a t shirt on to look half way to presentable to see him out. 

Once we were both dressed he grabbed my hand and pulled me against him to give me a brief kiss. 

“See you later then.” I said casually.

He smiled at me and squeezed my hand, letting me lead him to the front door. 

“I’ll text you.” he said.

 _________________________________________________________

Monday morning had rolled around and admittedly I had been disappointed not to hear from Ben, but presumed that he was probably just busy. 

As usual I was busy following the weekend. Chelsea had played yesterday lunchtime and I had a folder full of matchday pictures to go through and edit to occupy my time. 

By lunchtime I had barely made a dent in my work and decided that I would just eat lunch sat at my desk to try to get through a little bit more of it but Bri had other ideas, coming bounding into my office like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh with a massive grin on her face. She was so happy that it lifted my sour mood almost instantly.

“Katie! So sorry that I didn’t text you back on Friday. I knew you were out with the boys and didn’t want to disturb you, and well… me and Billy went on our date and ended up spending the whole weekend together!” she was still bouncing as she sat down on the spare office chair which nearly rolled away from the desk from the force.

“Woah slow down, all weekend?” I asked her, puzzled as I looked down at the team sheet on the desk in front of me. “Wasn’t he in the squad yesterday?”

“Oh yeah but he got me a ticket and I sat just behind the bench so that we could talk to each other. He didn’t get to play unfortunately but it was still nice to be there to support him.” she said, beaming before continuing “then he took me to the megastore and bought me a shirt with his name on the back for me to wear next time. Isn’t that just the cutest thing?”

“The cutest…” I said quietly, trying my absolute best not to sound bitter or jealous seeing as Ben had run off suddenly on Saturday morning and couldn’t even be bothered to send me a text, compared to Billy who couldn’t get enough of being with Bri. I tried to tell myself that Billy had been into her for years so was of course going to be putting in a lot of effort, where Ben and I had only just met. It would have been nice to have felt a bit more wanted though. 

“Sooo… Billy told me that Ben was asking you out. Did you go?” she looked at me intently while asking the question and I knew then that she could tell that there was something wrong.

I told her everything, including what I knew about Ben’s ex and Jorginho and going to the nightclub with the boys, kissing Ben, Mason and his horrible girlfriend being weird, and then about sleeping with Ben and what had happened after.

“Oh…” she mumbled. “I thought that he was really into you. Billy said he’#s always talking about you and looking over at your office window when they’re training.”

I shook my head, trying not to feel pessimistic about the situation. It had only been two days and he could have genuinely been busy. 

“I’m sure he will text or call, or even pop in here to see you.” she leant over the desk then and gave me a hug in the best way that she could with a desk in the way. 

“Bri, you really like Billy now right? Not just to make you-know-who jealous?” I asked.

She laughed “Why would I want to make Voldermort jealous?”

I rolled my eyes at her and grinned “You know exactly who I meant.”

“He’s already forgotten.” she shrugged.

“Listen, I don’t think I can face going down for lunch could you bring me back a sandwich or something? I don’t really fancy being stared at. He has probably already told all of them how easy I was.”

Reluctantly she agrede to go without me but not without scolding me for thinking the way that I had, telling me that Ben wasn’t like that. 

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

 Mason

“So, what happened with you and that girl?” Kai was asking Ben the question as we sat in a circle doing some stretches. We were right outside of Katie’s window and I had been trying really hard not to think about her with some success before Kai had brought her up. 

Ben stayed quiet for a minute as the group pushed him for an answer. Tammy finally bluntly asking if Ben had slept with her.

I looked for any sign of embarrassment on his face but there was none as he smirked “It was even her idea, she took me back to her place and then she was all over me.”

I grit my teeth together, biting me tongue so as not to say anything I might later regret or that might make playing with him awkward. I didn’t like the way that he was talking about her. He shouldn’t be showing off for the rest of the lads like that, not if he really liked her. He could have just said that he had a good night and wouldn’t kiss and tell.

My only solace was that he wasn’t going into intimate detail. He wouldn’t ruin my fantasies about her that way. 

“How did you leave things? You leaving the door open to hit that again?” Tammy was asking.

I looked up at her window then and could see her there, stood at the coffee machine. She looked tired and stressed, more so than she usually did on a Monday morning and my dislike of Ben grew that little bit stronger. 

“The door is ajar. Just letting her cool off a bit before I go back to her. Don’t need her getting all clingy on me.”

I was only half listening to Ben, finding that not looking at him made it easier to pretend that I was fine and egging him on like all of the others. 

Our coach Frank blew his whistle then and told us all to head inside for lunch and I hung back behind the rest of them as they all walked towards the doors to inside the complex.

I was last in line for food as a consequence of hanging back behind the others and realised that Katie’s friend was just ahead of me with Billy but no Katie.

“I need to take this back to Kate but I don’t want to miss out on time with you.” I heard her cooing to Billy who had the biggest grin on his face. It was nice to see him finally happy but a bit too sweet for me.

Interrupting them I offered to take the sandwich to Katie, saying that the table I was going to sit on was full anyway and I was planning on just grabbing one myself and heading for some physio. 

Katie’s friend was slightly hesitant at first but her desire to be with Billy overruled that in the end and she handed the sandwich over to me.

I stood at her office door nervously for a minute before I even knocked.

She opened the door expecting her friend and was surprised to see me there.

“I uh- brought your sandwich…” I mumbled, passing it to her.

“Are you ok Mase? It’s not like you to be so quiet.” 

I full on blushed at her calling me Mase and felt like a right idiot for doing so. It was a nickname that people called me affectionately and she had never been affectionate towards me. 

“It’s just…” I started to speak but had no idea what excuse I was going to give. I couldn’t exactly tell her that I was jealous of Ben.

“Is it your girlfriend? She was um, nice?” she giggled, and I couldn’t think if I had ever heard her laugh before. It was infectious.

“If I’m honest I haven’t been invested in that relationship for a long time but I can’t bring myself to end it. I’ve always been in relationships. I’m not...I’m not sure I know how to be on my own you know?” 

She gestured for me to sit down on one of the chairs and she perched on the end of her desk, taking a bite of her sandwich while she thought about what I said.

“I can understand that. I was in a long term relationship that ended last year and I thought we were going to be together forever so when it ended I had no idea how to be on my own again. I’m still not sure that I have it figured out now if I’m honest.” she shrugged. She was trying to seem casual about it but I saw straight through her. She was still hurting from that break up. 

“You’re not on your own anymore though, you have Ben.” I said quietly. Although I didn’t really want to think about them together I wanted to see how she reacted to me asking about it. If her face lit up with happiness at just the mention of his name, I would know that any chance of me changing her mind about him and about me was absolutely dead. 

She looked down at her feet and didn’t say anything.

“He’s not the best at communicating. Don’t give up on him yet.” Thinking back to what she had said to me not long ago about how privileged and big headed I had become, I decided in a split second that maybe I wouldn’t be good for her even if we could somehow date. Would I continue to get too big for my boots and end up pushing her away? By that time I would have burnt a lot of bridges and ruined a lot of professional and personal relationships and it didn’t feel worth the risk.

“You’ve changed your tune.” she said, obviously referring to me telling her that he wasn’t good for her.

I shrugged, standing up to leave. “He’s growing on me I guess.”

“Thanks for chatting Mase. Maybe you’re growing on me.” she smiled. 

I had turned to the door, so she couldn’t tell how hard I was smiling at what she had said. 

“See you later Katie.” I replied, trying to sound as casual as possible as my stomach did somersaults.

[blackkwidowed]

Caught in the Middle

Requested:

hi love! would you do one where reader and nat are not together just yet, but reader catches nat masturbating in her room while moaning reader's name, and things escalate from there? (lots of dirty talk please i need it) thanks a lot ❤

Summary: simple. Nat gets caught fucking herself and it goes better than she expected.

Rating: E. 18+, OBVIOUSLY. Smut, masturbation, Nat literally comes on your leg, sub!nat. obviously. dirty talk as requested. maybe a little mention of light bondage. with a belt. 

Word Count: 2,408

Yes I know, it’s been a while. Sorry. Here’s something to make it up to you. 

Friday nights always mean girls nights for you and Natasha. 

Except, tonight it didn’t go quite the way you thought it would. 

Typically, you’d just order takeout and watch movies, or you’d drink and play music and talk absolute shit for hours late into the night. Naturally, you’d expected the same again from your roommate tonight. 

That certainly did not happen. 

Arriving home from work, you expected to say your usual hello to Natasha before jumping straight into the shower, but she’s nowhere to be seen in your shared apartment, until you reach her bedroom. 

The door is ajar, just slightly. Natasha is lying on her bed, you can see the bottom of her legs through the little gap in the door. You peek inside, and freeze. 

The sight isn't something you expected, it’s not something you ever thought would occur, but you’d be absolutely stupid to ever turn away from it. 

Natasha is laid back against the pillows. She has a tshirt on, one that definitely belonged to you once upon a time. She has no pants on, those beautiful thighs that you can't help but take a glance at on a normal day are bare to the world. 

Most important of all though, is the hand shoved in her underwear. 

You should be looking away, she’s your roommate, but you’re so incredibly aroused by the sight before you that you cannot possibly move a muscle. 

Her head is thrown back against the pillows, and the desire to sink your teeth into the side of her neck is an urge you barely manage to suppress. And those soft little moans leaving her lips as her fingers move under her panties. 

It’s a sight and you can't look away. 

Another breathy sigh of what sounds like your name brings you back to Earth, and suddenly your focus shifts a little. 

Why did Natasha leave the door open?

Your answer comes quicker than expected. 

“Well,” she breathes, letting you know she’s aware of your presence. “What are you waiting for?” 

You think for a moment, more so because you don't know how to respond. She looks directly at you, winking lewdly and bucking her hips against her hand. Christ. 

You push the door open a little wider, choosing to lean against the doorframe. Natasha raises an eyebrow at you with a smirk. “Like what you see?” 

You nod. “Maybe a little too much.”

“I haven't been reading you wrong, then.” 

“It appears that way,” you mutter quietly. “Did you purposely make me catch you?” 

The look she gives you, that downright sinful, lusty gaze that she gives you, is your answer. “Of course I did. Figured it was the best way to get my message across.” 

You chuckle softly, moving to perch at the end of the bed. She watches you intently, attempting to observe and guess your next move. 

Your fingers find her ankle, skimming across the skin before moving up her lower leg. 

“So,” she breathes. “Is the fact that you’re touching me a good thing?” 

You move again, this time to kneel between her spread thighs. Natasha's hand is still shoved in her panties, you can see it moving against her clit. She hasn't stopped touching herself this whole time, and you’ve definitely been a little too focused on the quiet gasps falling from her lips every so often. 

Your hand covers hers, halting her movements. “It depends on how much more you’ll allow me to touch.” 

Natasha has the decency to blush slightly when you add an extra bit of pressure. Though she doesn't answer you verbally. Instead, she removes her hand, lifting her fingers to your lips, daring you to taste her. 

You don’t hesitate. 

Natasha groans, and her fingers drop from your mouth to curl around your wrist. Her touch is soft, gentle, but spiking hot. 

She guides your hand in an attempt to slip it under her panties, but this time you stop her. Instead, you take back some control, hooking your fingers under to pull them off her and throw them somewhere you don't care enough to look.

You crawl to hover over her, bringing your lips to the side of her neck to kiss hot skin. It starts soft, but she tastes so good you can’t resist trailing your tongue up her neck, light and so seductive you feel Natasha’s hips bucking already. 

“I think you’ll let me do whatever I want to you,” you whisper. “I think you’ll beg me to do whatever I want to you if I make you wait long enough.” 

She groans, hands clawing at your hips and fingers slipping under your belt for something to grasp and bring her back to reality. 

“I think you’re already starting to lose it.” You mutter, sinking your teeth softly below her ear. “Am I right?” 

You feel the nod, and you cannot physically suppress a smirk. Your lips press to her cheek, then because you can’t wait any longer, they press to Natasha’s quickly after. 

Natasha tastes like liquid gold, and you can’t get enough. 

Her hands rest on your hips, pulling you against her as you groan against her mouth. “Spread your legs a little wider for me.” 

She hisses, but does as she’s told to your surprise, opening her thighs and increasing the gap between them for you to settle comfortably. You were expecting her to fight back, but she’s a wreck under your touch already. Not that you’re complaining of course. 

She doesn't stop kissing you, only to take a shallow breath when your fingers graze her clit. 

“God,” you breathe. “You’re so wet.” 

Natasha’s hips buck hard and the whimper is loud. You need to hear it again, so with a final glance at her you kiss her again, slipping your tongue past her lips and forcing her hips down into the mattress with a tight grip. 

“Don’t move, sweetheart.” 

You don’t see Natasha’s smirk, not when you’ve already moved to sink your teeth into the side of her neck, but you do feel her leg move to hook around your waist, bringing you closer. The metal of your belt is cold and harsh against her abdomen and the sensation causes her to hiss, hands moving to sink her fingers into your back through your shirt. 

You huff. “Thought I told you not to move.” 

She laughs, though you pick up on the nerve in her tone. “You really thought I’d listen to that?” 

Your hands push her harder against the bed, thumbs digging against her hips enough to probably leave a bruise on either side, but she doesn't mind, you know she doesn’t. She wasn't exactly quiet about her own sex life or her kinks before the current predicament. You know her a little bit too well, you think. 

You snap. 

Shoving your thigh between her legs, she groans, unable to buck her hips for friction from the level of force you’re using to pin her to the bed. 

She’s so wet, you can feel it on your thigh; the warmth, the desperation. You need a taste. Right now, you’re struggling to think of anything that could be better than having your lips around her clit, but there’s time for that later. 

You’ll give it to her though, she is trying. She’s just not good at it, keeping still. You loosen your grip a little before deciding to let go completely, instead letting your hands wander up her-your-shirt. 

Your tongue finds her pretty pink nipples before you can even think about the idea, it’s an urge you can’t repress and certainly one that Natasha seems overly pleased about if her loud groan is anything to go off. 

“You’re so gorgeous,” you murmur. “Gonna cover you in my marks.” 

“Oh, God, please.” 

You grin, sucking over a mark you’re creating on her breast. 

“Y/N, I-” She pauses, takes a second to breathe. “I need to move.” 

You know what she means, and the thought alone makes you breathe a moan against her neck. You trail lighter kisses up to her ear, nibbling underneath at the skin. “So do it.” 

Natasha, you learn, has no restraint at all. Her movements against your thigh are firm, they’re sure. She’s chasing what she wants, hoping you won’t bite back again and put her in her place. You can’t resist. 

Her fingers pull at your shirt, reaching under and around to grasp at skin. She’s definitely planning to leave some of her marks on you, and you couldn't possibly say no to that. You pause for a mere second, Natasha still bucking against your thigh, to throw your shirt over your head. Natasha keens, and her hands return to your shoulders. 

You can feel the pain a little more and it’s wonderful, knowing the evidence of Natasha is going to be there for some time. She’s loud, God. She’s so fucking loud, whimpering and moaning with her eyes forced shut and her head thrown back. 

You don’t kiss her, because that’d silence her, and that’s the last thing you want when she sounds that sexy. 

“Such a needy, pretty little pussy,” you growl. “Look at you, you can’t even control yourself. Dirty girl.” 

She whines. It’s getting harder for her to steady her rhythm so you help her out, gripping onto her hips again and guiding them with authority. 

“I’m so fucking close, please,” Natasha breathes. “I need you to fuck me.” 

You chuckle. “I am fucking you, technically.” 

“No, I mean-” 

“You want me to fill you up huh? Is that what you’re asking for, baby?” 

Natasha’s groan is your answer. 

“Later,” you whisper. “Don’t be so greedy.” 

Her breath hitches and for a second, she goes silent. You know the signs of orgasm though, so you push against her once more, and she’s falling apart all over your thigh. 

Natasha slips into Russian when she comes, on the verge of screaming something you don’t really catch between all the heavy breathing and moaning, but the thought alone has you even more uncomfortable between your own thighs. 

Before she’s even calmed a little bit, her fingers are at your belt and pulling, a plea to see more of you. She wants to get off again, she needs to. She’s been dreaming of this for months, and truthfully so have you. You’re certainly nowhere near finished with her and you find it cute that for a split second, she thought you were done. 

“Y/N?” 

“Mm?” You hum, rocking your thigh lightly between her legs.

“Can we do that again?” 

You laugh, leaning to kiss her. “I haven't even finished with you yet and you’re already begging for more?” 

She rolls her eyes, lacing her fingers through your hair as she meets your lips again, slipping her tongue into your mouth. 

She kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. It’s cliche, sure, but it’s also the truth. You’re hellbent on the truth at the best of times. You scare yourself, because it’s as if you don't want to be kissed by anyone else ever again. 

“At least let me touch you before you have your way with me again,” she grumbles when you pull away from her mouth. She knows where you’re headed, she could see the need to taste her all over your face. But she wants you first, she wants to feel you come apart too. 

You ponder for a moment, before smirking. “Okay, fine.”

She arches a brow in surprise. “Just like that?” 

You laugh, standing from the bed to pull your belt from your jeans. “It’s not always that easy.” 

“No?” She questions. The sarcasm in her tone almost makes you change your mind. 

You shake your head. “Wrists together.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Now.” You command. Her eyes travel between yours and the belt in your hand, and suddenly it clicks. She grins, and does as she’s told. Her excitement for what you’re about to do is kind of adorable. 

“So,” you breathe. “I’m gonna put those filthy hands of yours out of the way, and because you asked so nicely-” 

Natasha’s pupils are blown, because she thinks she knows what you’re going to say. 

“Because you’re such a good girl for me, right?” Your finger tilts her chin up, and you can’t help a smug grin when you see the dark purple marks littering her neck, her breasts. 

She nods. You shake your head. 

“Answer me.” 

“No,” she bats her lashes. “I think we both know I’m a bad girl.” 

It’s laughable how much it sounds like a bad porno in Natasha’s bedroom tonight, but with the way she looks at you like she wants you to devour her whole, it doesn't matter. 

You smile, softer than before. “Right answer.” 

You push her back on the bed so she’s laying flat and you rid yourself of everything to match her. With only the belt in your hand, you straddle her, grinding just the right way across her stomach, so she can feel how wet she’s made you. You groan, your head lolling back. You feel a hand on your hip. The touch is different than yours, gentler. But still beautifully firm. 

She hums in delight, carding her fingers over your stomach and down, to tease between your thighs. You’re sensitive, you can already feel that without Nat touching you that you’re so damn sensitive from the build up of what you got home to. A brush across your clit though, and you’re the one desperate for more. 

You reach for her wrists, kissing the inside of them briefly, an act of affection that melts Natasha more than she cares to admit. 

Your voice drops to a whisper as you lean to her ear. “Is it okay if I sit on that gorgeous face of yours?” 

Natasha groans louder than you’ve heard in the last few minutes. You take it as a yes, and the hunger raging in her eyes the second you go to move makes you shift a little quicker. 

She wets her lips with her tongue, but before she can get her mouth on you, you pause her.

“Wait,” you say. She grumbles. 

“What now?” 

You manage to stop yourself from forcing her on her knees in that moment. If it wasn't for her tongue being inches away from your clit, you would have. 

“I brought the belt for a reason, hands off.” 

“Oh you know me so well.” 

[kalee60]

I wish you would write a fic where stucky are mad at each other for some reason but get forced into the same tiny escape pod and spend a very interesting hour pressed so tight together on their way back to the surface...

Not going to lie Bec - when I first saw this prompt, my mind immediately went one way, and one way only - and I'm pretty sure you just played me like a fiddle with this idea of yours and knew exactly what I'd write.

So please take this humble offering, you are literally my greatest support and I would not be here without you gorgeous ❤️ my adoration for you is endless for our unique and special bond x

The fic is just over 4k and also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Truth or Dare and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

"Are you freaking kidding me right now Rogers?" Bucky shouted as he tried to wrest control of the tiny submarine, or whatever the fucking contraption Stark had purpose built for underwater expeditions, from his meathead best friend who never had a plan. "What the hell was that?"

Steve glared over at Bucky, who scowled back. "I had it under control."

"Under control, my ass. You ran us into a goddamn rock, a rock so sharp we now have a leak - and guess what? We just happen to be about three miles under the sea!"

"I - " Steve started to say then stopped abruptly to slam at the controls before him in the dim lighting, trying to unwedge the small vessel off the rock.

"Don't! Fuck Steve, leave it, don't get us off the rock - we'll tear apart if you do." The sharp edge of panic amidst his anger was clear.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck." Steve ground out.

The panic immediately disappeared leaving only ire behind, "I highly doubt that by looking at the trouble you got us into. I thought partnering up with Sam was a pain in the ass for those few months, but I'd somehow forgotten what you were like."

Bucky heard Steve grinding his teeth, and satisfaction filled him that Steve was at least angry at their hopeless situation, one he was solely to blame for.

They’d been tasked to go to the Raft - one of the inmates had managed to escape - Namor, and although Bucky thought it was way out of their scope of skills to be chasing a literal being that came from the ocean, who had super strength and a huge advantage by, well, being able to breathe underwater, the Avengers assembled and it was left to Cap, no, Nomad and Bucky to sort it out.

At first, the mission was fine and on track, they were given the craft from Stark, Steve assuring both Bucky and the cocky self-appointed head Avenger, that he'd used it many times over on missions, and away they went. Bucky had realised after an hour at sea as they dove deeper and deeper, Bucky wide-eyed at all the sealife and fish that swam into the lights from the craft, that Steve looked a little peaky, a little sweaty. Apparently, after some hard prodding, Steve admitted he'd only taken it out for a few runs in the East River and had never been in the ocean with it.

Bucky was fuming.

He became even angrier when they found Namor, and Steve without any hesitation hit a button that harpooned a weapon from the undercarriage, missing the man completely and hitching it on a nearby rock, careening them towards it. Bucky was certain he saw a smirk and a laugh from their quarry as he swam off - uncaptured. Free.

It was, in fact - quite humiliating for two usually competent supersoldiers.

So now they were fixed tightly onto a jutting rock bed, water leaking slowly into the vessel and Steve was acting like a massive stubborn child about their situation. Especially when they realised they couldn’t call for assistance - they were too deep for a signal.

As a starfish floated by and suckered itself to the window, making a home there, Bucky was starting to wonder if they'd get out of the situation in one piece. They may have the serum running through their veins, but he was certain drowning was still on the scope of things that could kill them. He glanced at Steve who was still pressing buttons - that and along with an irate best friend who had a penchant for knives.

The urge to strangle Steve and his handsomely stubborn face rose with each and every breath, and he couldn't fathom why he was in love with such an imbecile. Bucky, glad that Steve wasn’t aware of where his feelings lay, not wanting to openly tell such an idiot he loved him; though Bucky hadn’t really had an opportunity to approach Steve about it, unsure if he ever would find the courage to bring it up.

Plus right then... right in that moment as they floated and bobbed in the undercurrent while beady eyed fish approached them curiously, Bucky was livid and was certain that even if Steve turned to him to profess his undying love - Bucky would punch him in the face.

“What do you propose we do then smarty pants?”

Bucky’s mouth formed a tight line at the old taunt.

“I suggest we get into the escape pod and head for the surface.”

“What? And give up?”

“Give up Steve? Of course we give up. What the fuck do you think we can do?” Bucky exclaimed, as Steve grumbled into the small space. “For a brilliant strategist you sure are an absolute ninny sometimes.”

“A ninny?” Steve burst out in horrified disbelief.

Bucky felt his lip twitch and almost laughed at Steve’s expression and the absurdity of their situation that by calling Steve a ninny, is what pissed him off the most.

“The only way we can do anything of any use now, is if Namor comes back and surrenders. And I don’t think he’s about to do that, considering he sped off laughing when you marooned us on this damn rock. One I might add that has more strength and the ability to stay calm and think more rationally than you.”

“Are you seriously comparing me to a rock?”

“If the Cap fits.”

“Really?” Steve deadpanned at Bucky’s admittedly terrible attempt at humour.

And before Bucky could say anything further, potentially offer a simple truce, a large shadow loomed above them and Bucky was instantly caught in the beauty and grace of the huge marine animal swimming overhead, close enough Bucky could reach out and touch if there wasn’t glass between them. It looked to be a shark of some type and Bucky was captivated by the smooth skin, the sheer mass and the tail that flicked; until that same large tail hit the vessel on one of it’s sweeps, dislodging it from the rock.

With a triumphant yell, Steve pushed on the accelerator as Bucky yelled at him to stop, and suddenly the whole craft shook and groaned, creaking as the very structure started to unhinge.

“Jesus fuck, Steve. Get in the escape pod now!”

Steve for the first time since they entered the vessel listened to Bucky, and they both jumped up and scrambled for the pods that were situated behind their seats, opening the escape hatches - only to find one empty, and the other thankfully still in place.

“Shit, Tony.” Bucky swore. “Don’t you know about the Titanic? Always have enough damn life rafts. Fuck.”

“We can fit.” Steve said matter of fact and opened the hatch door, just as the thick glass from the front of the craft splintered, water spurting through and a loud cracking filled the space. Bucky’s heart thumped hard and fast at the danger they were in, his Soldier training all but useless in the face of this new terror.

Bucky pushed Steve, who yelped at being manhandled into the small space, and Bucky jumped right in, landing on top of Steve, their faces only inches apart - and that face did not look happy.

They had just enough room for Steve to hit the big red button that closed the pod, and an automated voice immediately filled the area.

“Releasing in three, two - one.” 

The voice went silent as the capsule whooshed out of the craft, and Bucky was on the correct side to see through the glass over Steve’s shoulder, the lights of the vessel flickering as it tore apart from the pressure of the water. Bucky let out a shaky breath that they’d escaped in time.

“Calculating your trajectory and location,” the voice began, then went silent for a few seconds, “you will breach the surface in just under two hours.”

“Two hours.” Bucky griped and wiggled, Steve hissing for him to ‘quit it’. The voice continued on in its modulated voice.

“Due to your depth, the emergency pod has been slowed to ensure you rise at the correct rate so you do not suffer any complications.”

“Complications,” Bucky said under his breath, knowing with the serum it was unlikely they’d get sick. “I’ve got a big bearded one right in front of me. I think that’s complicated enough - just get us to the surface quickly.”

The voice droned on about protocols and safety features for a few minutes and mentioned when it came into range it would send a distress call to FRIDAY for assistance. Finally some good news, because all Bucky could think about was the fact the enormous shark was not in sight. He hoped it was long gone.

“Can you move your damn leg?" Steve hissed, shaking Bucky from his contemplation of why he insisted on watching Jaws a few weeks earlier.

But it was the tone Steve used that irked Bucky further, and ever helpful, he moved his leg back and forth like a petulant kid. “That enough movement for you?”

“Buck, your damn knife is digging into my thigh. Actually why in the hell are you wearing it on an underwater mission in the first place?”

“Why did you bring your shield?” Bucky countered, not wanting to tell Steve about the other seven knives in his pants.

“That’s not really comparable.”

“It is.” Bucky replied sullenly, knowing it wasn’t at all. 

Steve sighed heavily, and they spent a good fifteen minutes without conversing, not even daring to look at the other in the soft green-tinged light from the control panel where Bucky could read their glacially paced progress as they headed for the surface. They were still so far down.

“Truth or dare? Steve suddenly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Are you for real? Now?” Bucky asked incredulously. “Look, I know that game worked when we were kids - but read the damn room, well, pod.”

Steve didn’t respond as the charged air between them rose in silent intensity.

“Truth.” Bucky finally bit out after a long minute.

“Why did you bring knives on an underwater mission?”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t let up, do you? Why am I even surprised, it’s Steven Grant Rogers asking. Because Steve, I take them everywhere. You know this. I might have had to stab some seaweed for being rude to your delicate sensibilities or something. And don't you dare try and say they haven’t gotten us out of tough spots before.”

Steve harrumphed, “I’m hardly delicate.”

“Sure thing.”

They fell silent again, until Bucky gave in and sighed heavily. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you lie and say you knew how to drive the boat?”

“Bucky, you don’t drive a boat.”

“Yeah, well you proved that without a doubt.”

Steve tensed up, Bucky experiencing Steve’s muscles bunching together against his body from being so close, he swallowed heavily. 

“I thought I had it handled. How difficult could it be?”

“Steve…” Bucky started, stopped then sighed, “Steve, you need to actually be truthful with me, to the Avengers, especially if you need help. You don’t have to prove that you have it together all the time, every time. That’s what I’m for.”

“So you’re saying you could have piloted the boat?”

“Is piloted correct? But in answer - no, I couldn’t have. So we would have found a better way.” 

“Buck, he’s an underwater being, what else were we going to do but try and follow him down here?”

Bucky remained quiet thinking over the options. When the call went out, only Steve and he were available for the mission, so in a way Steve was correct, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Steve moved suddenly in an unintentional grind, and a spark flew down Bucky’s spine, shit, they were close, really close, and through his initial fear and anger, Bucky hadn’t really thought about the situation he’d inadvertently put himself in. Pressed up against Steve’s body in a way he’d never been before.

Oh shit…

“Truth or dare,” Steve asked, breaking Bucky’s thoughts on the bulge he could feel just slightly higher than his own.

“Truth,” Bucky gritted out, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the murky water surrounding them. “It’s not like we can do any dares down here.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking directly at Bucky, and Bucky finally gave in and glanced his way, holding Steve’s gaze, and knew immediately that he shouldn't have. Steve’s eyes had taken on a greenish-blue tinge, making them pop and they softened at the edges once Bucky was in their snare. Bucky let out a long exhale. He hated when they fought - but he was still annoyed that Steve hadn't listened or been truthful.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Bucky jerked in surprise, wincing straight away, as rubbing up against Steve wasn’t going to help him remain impassive. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one I would have thought,” Steve replied curtly, and Bucky saw the slight tick in Steve’s cheek, and he caught his breath. For some reason Steve was invested in his answer, but why? Could it mean..?

“We live together Steve. You know I’m not.”

“Not even Darcy,” Steve countered.

Unable to stop it from bubbling up, Bucky started to laugh loud and heartily before realising that the motion was doing nothing to stop the friction between them, and Bucky started to worry that the knives on his person weren't the only hard thing Steve could feel pressed up against him.

When he’d composed himself, he saw that Steve had tilted his chin up proudly, and Bucky knew he’d hurt his feelings.

“Uh, that’s a negative. Darcy and I are not dating, she’s like Becca. You know - a little sister, an annoying one too, and yeah I love her, but not in the way you think. To be honest I’d like to date…”

Bucky trailed off, realising he was about to give too much away.

“You’d like to date?” Steve coaxed, eyes riveted on Bucky as he looked slightly down at him, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever really get used to the change in Steve's physique. Having to look up to his once small friend, shoulders wide enough he was a literal tank.

“Tall, blonde people,” he admitted, face immediately heating; not meaning to let that particular parcel of words out.

“Oh.” Steve replied, face slack and wondering as he stared at him, the gravity in his eyes not letting Bucky look elsewhere. So Bucky shut his eyes to escape, berating himself for being an obvious fool.

“Dare,” Steve husked.

Bucky snapped his eyes open to find Steve unblinking, attention directly on him, and there was something lurking behind his gaze, something dark and delicious, Bucky uncertain if what he saw was real or not. So he thought about his response carefully before answering.

“Okay, Stevie,” and Steve inhaled sharply through his nose at the nickname, Bucky pleased at the response. “I bet you can’t get your hands to the control panel to turn on the exterior floodlight so we can see the fishes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You want to see the fishes?”

Bucky nodded slowly, having a gut feel Steve already saw through his game, considering where Steve’s hands were positioned in the first place. Between their bodies.

Steve wriggled his fingers, and a live wire burned through the very structure of Bucky’s cells, remaking them into something different, something primal as Steve continued to move and pushed his hand between them towards the panel, inadvertently pressing hard up against the front of Bucky’s pants, right over his dick in the process. A dick that was suddenly much more interested in their predicament. 

Bucky might have made an error in judgement as he slipped out a strangled gasp.

Steve’s face lit up in a grin at Bucky’s unintentional response, deliberately mimicking the same movement again.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the touch through his tac pants, wishing for no obstructions between them, and before he could lose himself completely in the sensations, Steve's hand pulled free to touch the control panel, light suddenly flooding outwards. Tufts of seaweed and darting fish fled past the glass as they continued to slowly climb for the surface. 

And before he knew what he was saying, Bucky was pressing his hips the scant inch forward into Steve's body and whispered, "I dare you to do that again."

The ragged and shaky exhale from Steve was gratifying in its sheer emotion, and the 'Buck' that tore from his throat made Bucky look up. The moment his eyes met Steve's he was gone.

"Can I?" Steve asked, and Bucky could do no more than nod as Steve's lips came crashing down on his.

It was the kiss Bucky had been waiting a lifetime for, and he couldn't believe as Steve's tongue slipped in between his lips, a low deep growl erupting unbidden in his throat, that the catalyst was a failed mission where they were stuck together angry in a cylindrical tube in the middle of the ocean.

Steve's hand forced itself back between their bodies, and Bucky moaned as Steve made the best of the small space, rubbing over and over until Bucky grew thick and hard in his pants, all while Steve kissed the very breath from his body. Bucky was stunned that Steve was an exceptional kisser, partly impressed and partly jealous at the realisation that he'd had experience, more than Bucky first thought.

"Jesus Buck, you taste so good."

"Yeah?" Bucky husked back, leaning up as far as he was able, capturing Steve's lips again. What started as chaste, soon became hungry and insistent and Bucky tried to move his hands, but there was no room for two sets between them, Steve’s all that could fit; so Bucky let Steve take control, do what he wanted. And somehow, without even speaking about it, Steve gave Bucky exactly what he needed, what he craved. And if Steve wanted, Bucky would spend his lifetime taking care of Steve in return.

"Your fucking knife," Steve husked into his cheek as he pulled away, lips wet and thoroughly kissed. It was a spaced out look Bucky wanted to see more often.

"That's not a knife," Bucky sassed back.

"Well unless you're extraordinary and have two dicks, then yes, I think the one pressing just above my knee is a knife."

Bucky tried to adjust his stance to lessen the pressure from the weapon, and at Steve's wince, he knew he'd not managed to do it.

"Well to be fair, I wasn't expecting to end up in this predicament."

"Predicament?" Steve asked as his fingers pressed against Bucky's groin again, pushing and sliding to create extra friction.

"Oh shit," Bucky breathed, hating and loving the knowing smirk on Steve's face. "Maybe I've been wanting this for over a hundred years and you know, since nothing has ever happened before, how was I to know that being trapped in an escape pod, while seething in anger would do it for you?"

Steve looked blankly at Bucky, mouth open, shock clearly written over his face. "Over a hundred years?"

Bucky realised he had no filter when Steve had a hand on his dick, and flushed at the long kept secret, now a confession, but kept going, confirming it. He was all in by that stage.

"Give or take a year."

"Buck, why the hell didn't you say anything? I've been waiting since…"

Steve trailed off and Bucky couldn't help it.

"Since..?"

"I was sixteen."

"Fuck," Bucky surged forward, kissing the breath from Steve, and Steve's hand movements became more insistant. Suddenly Bucky felt the zip of his pants loosen and he couldn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping and he wriggled his hips in anticipation. Between one breath and the next Steve had somehow, miraculously snaked his hand into Bucky's pants, and now, now, there was only a layer of thin underwear between them.

Why the hell hadn't he gone commando?

"God, Buck, you feel amazing - knew you would.” Steve said as he looked into Bucky’s eyes while stroking him, and the sheer power behind his gaze pushed all of Bucky’s buttons. “Want to get my mouth on you."

Bucky gasped, vibrating at the imagery and Steve chuckled, nipping at Bucky's lips, kissing him again and again and it hit Bucky that Steve was able to feel every single quiver and sharp intake of breath he made. He was no longer able to hide his reactions, even if his face gave nothing away - Steve was so close that all of Bucky's tells were like a neon sign emblazoned above his head. Steve had him at his mercy.

And Bucky loved it.

"I want that," Bucky whispered back, "want your mouth everywhere. Want my mouth all over you too pal, I can't wait to get you naked."

"You're too much," Steve ground out and suddenly Bucky was being kissed deeply, thoroughly and he lost all concept of time and space. Steve's fingers gripped his dick, squeezing and making short jerky motions, it wasn't the greatest angle, and Steve didn't have full motion - but it was perfect. Bucky was so turned on, his dick weeping into his underwear, and he knew that if Steve kept going, kept kissing him, touching him, he was going to come in his pants like he'd done too many times when they’d slept next to each other before the war.

"Oh fuck Steve, keep doing that."

"You like that?" Steve husked, complying when Bucky nodded his head limply, rubbing in tight circles, fingers tangling in Bucky's underwear as he tried his best to get Bucky off. And Bucky, well he wasn't easy, it usually took him a while to get in the right headspace to feel comfortable enough to let go, to let himself be free in the moment, but with Steve he knew he could be. He trusted Steve, wanted him by his side always, and he knew he'd catch Bucky, protect him as he fell. Steve would never let go again.

"Gonna make you come on my dick," Steve rasped into Bucky's mouth, making Bucky forget everything sweet and hopeful in their future to concentrate on how filthy Steve’s lust driven words were, "going to fill you up, and I'm never letting you out of my bed again Buck. You're mine - you hear that?"

"I… yes… yours," Bucky said as his knees buckled, and Steve had him, gripped him tight, pinching his dick in a way that made Bucky white out and he came apart. Bucky spurted into his pants, underwear soaking up his release and he jerked and whimpered as Steve held him through it, mouth hovering over his, whispering words of want and desire. 

"You're gorgeous Buck, the prettiest fella I ever saw."

"Jesus Steve," Bucky breathed as he came down from his orgasm, legs still twitching. "You're going all Brooklyn and sappy on me."

Steve kissed the corner of Bucky's mouth delicately, as if he hadn't just got him off in the tightests of spots, and removed his hand from Bucky's pants. "Always felt sappy with you Punk."

Bucky grinned back, sated, happy and languid - until he felt it.

"Have you got a fucking bludgeon in your pocket?" he exclaimed when Steve shifted, and awed, Bucky realised exactly what Steve was packing in his plain navy shorts that were often tangled with his black briefs in the dryer at home. Steve's cheeks tinged pink and Bucky was gone, so gone on this man who was sweet and commanding all at once.

"Oh shit Steve, am I going to have fun with you."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned back, suddenly a little shy, a little hopeful and Bucky smiled.

"For the rest of our lives if you want."

Steve sucked in a breath, "I'd like that."

"The surface is less than twenty metres away, a rescue shuttle has been dispatched and will meet you on the surface."

The automated voice fell away, and Bucky and Steve looked over each other's shoulders at the lightened water, having completely ignored the sea of fish and marine animals around them. It was stunning, there was so much life just under the surface.

And before he knew it, they were blinded by sunlight as the pod popped up on the surface, Bucky finding Steve on top of him, all of his weight pressing him down as the cylinder floated in the ocean on its side. The sheer bulk of Steve was phenomenal, a portent of things to come.

"Far out, you're heavy." Bucky commented with a grin.

"Sorry, the serum… well you know."

"No, I like it." He said as Steve kissed him again, leaning down to take Bucky's mouth under his in a passionate but short taste. "But you're still an ass for getting us into that position in the first place."

"How did you know I didn't plan it this way?"

Bucky laughed just as the lid opened and he squinted into the bright light, the quinjet hovering over them, finding himself staring directly up into Clint's grinning face.

"Looking cozy there boys, need a hand?"

"I think we have that handled," Steve replied with a smirk, staring at Bucky, and Bucky could only gaze up into the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the eyes of his best friend, his soon to be lover and hopefully so much more.

It took some maneuvering to get Steve off him without toppling them into the ocean, but soon they were inside waiting as Bruce and Clint secured the pod to take back to Tony's lab.

Bucky made his way to the front of the jet as Steve called in their failure to Fury, and greeted Natasha who was in the pilots seat, stretching his arms up and over his head, popping his muscles from having been cramped up too long. 

She looked him dead in the eye in the unnerving way only Nat could, and remarked, "your fly's undone."

Red faced, Bucky looked over at Steve who'd heard Nat and was silently laughing, telling Fury that 'no, he didn't think losing Namor was amusing', before hanging up and motioning Bucky over.

"You really are a jerk." Bucky hissed as he pulled up his fly, finally realising how wet and uncomfortable he was. He needed a shower. Preferably with company.

"But I'm your jerk though."

"Gee, aren’t I the luckiest guy in Brooklyn," Bucky snarked back at Steve's playful wink, and for the entire trip home, neither of them could keep the grins off their faces.

A day later - Natasha brought Namor in.

[mediocre--writing]

what if when neil found out steve and billy are dating, instead, he goes and beats the shit out of Steve to teach billy a lesson

“billy, shut up or i’m telling steve!”

the pause in the air was so pregnant that nobody dared to move.

billy felt his pulse shoot up so high he was sure he was going to vibrate off of the chair he sat on. he could see the fork in his hand wobble more and more violently as he willed it to stay still.

this was exactly what happened last time.

being too joke-y and playful, max saying something just incriminating enough, and the whole universe coming to a pause, just to jeer and laugh at poor billy hargrove.

the dinner was nice, one of the better ones susan had made, and everyone in the house was smiling.

max and billy were closer than ever, even before the move out to indiana, and felt like true siblings, much to the delight of both parents.

neils nose scrunched. he looked back and forth around the table before raising his steel eyes to meet max’s.

“who’s steve?”

max knew she’d done it this time. she was cornered and her face was burning with shame for what she brought on billy, what she brought on herself, what she brought on the house.

“one of billy’s friends. he babysits dustin sometimes. drives him around, ya know?”

max sounded causal. and it wouldn’t have been suspicious had the room not had a tense air that hadn’t been present prior to the move.

“friend?” neil moved his eyes over to billy, who instantly straightened his posture and set his face as blank as possible. “billy, you’re finally making good friends here?”

billy’s eyes scanned up and down his fathers figure before nodding, “yes, sir,”

neil smiled, “well, that’s great to hear,” and continued eating his vegetables.

billy didn’t move. this seemed like a trick.

there is no way that neil hargrove had so easily brushed off a comment like that without causing a fit or threatening to kill.

billy could still feel the phantom pains that came with the beating after neil had found out about harry.

billy had never experienced that much pain, never felt so fearful for his life as his dads boot pressed into his neck.

how bad it hurt when neil ripped out his original earring and pulled out his hair.

how he couldn’t sit straight for weeks, but still forced himself to in order to seem proper and kind and sweet, like the good son he is.

billy remembers the crunch of his ankle when he fell down to the floor. he remembers the threat on his life if neil even found a trace of billy acting the way he did.

worst of all, he remembers the way his heart ripped itself in half, every string connecting it being brutally ripped and burned on the ends to ensure there was no connecting it back together on the night he told harry he was leaving.

told him not to stay in touch, not to find his new number or his new address. not to even so much as think about billy for too long, in fear that neil would just know.

how he sat in the johnson’s backyard sunroom in the late afternoon and sobbed in harry’s arms.

how he had his right leg on the side of the couch, a big blue cast making it heavier and the splint he had on his wrist making it hard to grab at harry’s shirt.

how harry stroked at his hair and never mentioned the patch in the back that was gone, completely bald in that one spot. never mentioned how billy’s earring had moved sides and how there were three small stitches holding the other ear together.

and, now, billy having to see neil sit at a table and act like nothing happened, he almost felt more afraid than he did then.

monday morning, after billy’s weekend from hell. and no, it’s not what you’re thinking.

billy didn’t get hit once. didn’t get any dirty looks or obsessive nagging from neil.

of anything, neil seemed to smile at billy more that weekend.

billy didn’t dare step out of line, though. he offered to do dishes every night and did everyone’s laundry. he sat in the family room at night and was kind and sweet. didn’t leave the house once, nor did he make any phone calls.

and he was more on edge than ever.

driving him and max to school that day was like a breath of fresh air. even if it was kinda cow-shitty air, it wasn’t neil’s air.

billy pulled up to the middle school curb to let max out, but she didn’t move.

when billy turned to look at her, he saw her staring, slack jawed at something in the high school parking lot.

when billy turned his head, he wished he hadn’t seen it.

steve.

steve with his arm in a cast and sitting in a sling. steve with his face bloodier and more bruised than billy had ever made it look. steve waking with a limp as he got into the school doors.

“you don’t think—“ max couldn’t even finish her sentence before billy felt rage take over his entire body.

“get out. go to class. if i don’t pick you up today, go home with one of your friends. do you understand?”

max quickly said yes and got out of the car, billy whipping into his usual parking space before getting out and running, yes running, to steve, who was still trying to get through the front door.

“steve—“ billy stopped a few feet away as steve finally got the door open and walked into the halls.

billy chased after him, which wasn’t hard (steve was limping) but the sheer amount of people in the halls was hard to get around.

“steve! steve, stop!” billy forced himself through the hallways, never remembering them being this crowded before, or maybe that was his anxiety talking.

“steve,” billy finally stopped as he got in front of steve.

“billy, i really don’t want to talk to you right now,”

steve’s eyebrows did that weird thing where they scrunch in the middle and make the ends push down. they make him look more tired than he already is.

“no, no!” billy was freaking out. even without looking, he knew his hands were shaking worse than they ever had before.

“just—“ billy looked around before seeing the boy’s bathroom, gently pushing steve through the doors before locking the two of them in there together.

“bil—“

“is anyone in here!?” billy asked as he peaked under the stalls and checked every inch of the bathroom.

“this is my fault, but you gotta tell me what happened, steve,”

“i—i don’t even know!” steve looked around the bathroom as he leaned, defeated, against the wall next to the towel dispenser.

“you don’t know!?” billy was shouting, “did he come to your house? was this like an ambush thing? did he say anything to you? you have to give me something, steve!”

“i—i,” steve was floundering for the words to tell billy.

“he just— saturday night, i was coming home from dustins and i had to stop and pick up some milk from the 24-hour store and i came out and three of my tires were slashed.

“so i set down my stuff at the car and go back in to ask to use a phone, but someone yanks me back to the alley behind the store and beats the shit out of me, billy!”

billy was rubbing his hands over the stubble on his chin as he tried to process steve’s story.

“told me to stay the fuck away from his son and that he’d kill me if he found out i even looked at you again, alright! all while he’s shoving his foot into my elbow, but not before he pulls up on my wrist and breaks my arm!”

“oh my god,” billy stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall between the sinks, then he starts to slide down until he’s sitting on the floor, forcing himself not to cry.

steve huffs out something that sounds like “yeah” before moving to sit down too.

“did you tell anyone?”

“i didn’t know if i should,”

“you didn’t tell anyone!?”

“what was i supposed to say!?”

“that a psycho jumped you in the alley! what did you tell the hospital?”

steve was quiet for too long.

“you went to the hospital, right!?”

“not... exactly,”

“you fixed your own broken arm?”

“no.” steve looked down then around at the stalls, “i had jonathan help me,”

“steve!”

“well i needed someone to pick me up and i knew he wouldn’t ask questions!” steve admits. “would you want me to tell people?”

yes.

billys first thought. of course steve should have called the cops or gone to a hospital. neil hargrove should be arrested for what he did to steve.

no.

the logical part of billy’s brain says. if they take him to court over something like this, it could have too many repercussions.

for one, neil could tell everyone that his son and steve harrington are gay and fucking each other.

plus, it would force neils... home tendencies to come up at some point, and if it didn’t work out in a pretty liberal cali, then nobody in conservative indiana is going to berate neil for ‘taking care of’ his gay son.

it’s a lose-lose situation.

“billy?”

his blue eyes snap back to steve’s face: still kind and reassuring with the huge, grotesque scabs and swelling scattered everywhere.

“it’s why he didn’t do anything,”

the comment, said mostly to billy himself, caught steve’s interest, “what?”

“max... talked about you at dinner friday, and he didn’t do anything. i was waiting all weekend for him to snap and he never did, smiled more, even. now i know why,”

they sat together in thought for a while, a good ten minutes after the late bell rang, before billy cleared his throat.

“you said he slashed your tires?”—steve nodded—“you get ‘em replaced?”—steve nodded again—“did you drive yourself to school today?”

“yea—billy where is this going?”

before steve even got a read on billy’s face, the bathroom door was unlocked and swinging open, billy racing out.

steve, crippled as he may be, managed to get off the floor with his bum leg and broken arm, walking after a brief glimpse of billy as he turned corners before leaving out to the student parking lot.

billy was at steve’s car before he was, reaching through the open windows and popping the trunk, bitching about how steve needs to roll his windows up because people are gonna steal his car.

he reached into the trunk and grabbed the nail bat he knew steve would have there (the bat goes where steve goes).

“hey! billy!” steve is yelling to an empty parking lot, the only response being steve’s trunk slamming shut and billy marching over to his own car before getting in and screeching out of the lot.

steve was still standing there, speechless, as he watched the quick blue car shoot down the road.

steve, ever being the hero, limped back to the school, rifling through his pockets for loose change to push into the phone before dialing the byers house.

joyce picked up after two rings.

“hello, byers house,”

“is hopper there!?” his voice came out scratchy and worn.

“steve?”

“joyce! is hopper there?”

“he’s about to leave for work, why do yo—“

“put him on the phone! now!”

“o—ok,”

there’s rustling and muffled voices on the other line before steve hears hoppers gruff voice ask what he needs.

“i need you to do me a cop-like favor but as hopper, not a cop,”

“kid—“ hopper sighed and steve could just imagine him running a hand down his face. “i’ve gotta get to work and i don’t have t—“

“i think someone may be getting really hurt but i’ve been asked—well, not asked, but it’s been implied—that i shouldn’t get cops involved but i need you to do this for me, hopper!”

“is it... lab stuff?”

“no! this is like—halfway murder stuff!”

“who and where?”

“billy’s house. i think,”

hopper sighed and was quiet for a moment before giving a quick ‘i’ll go check it out,’

“not as a cop!”

“not as a cop,”

and steve felt useless. he knew he wouldn’t be able to go into class and feel ok.

hell, even if everything turned out alright, steve wasn’t sure when this fluttery, anxious feeling in his stomach would go away.

so, as a sane person would do, steve started slowly driving to billy’s house. not slowly, but the speed limit. just to give billy and hopper time to do something and steve wouldn’t get yelled at by billy for ‘getting in the middle of it.’

but when steve does get there, boy oh boy!

there’s a truck that’s got holes and dents all around it, windows smashed in and the wheels all flat, billy panting with the nail bat held limply in his hand.

neil, however, was standing on the porch, dressed ready for work, holding a shotgun at billy.

steve was parked a bit down the street, but the screaming could be heard with just his windows rolled down.

nothing sounded like anguished yells of pain, just hurtful jabs and ruthless words being spat back and forth.

steve couldn’t have wished harder for hopper to hurry the fuck up.

steve was intently watching the two men, both seeming to think they had the upper hand, when he heard the cocking of a gun taken off safety.

he sees billy’s blond hair start moving backwards, away from the house right as he catches a glimpse of a tan truck in his rear view mirror. hopper.

neither of the hargroves have noticed hoppers truck.

neil shoots a warning shot, one that goes a foot above billy’s head and into the wooded area in front of their house.

billy backs up quicker.

hopper turns his sirens on.

billy’s head shoots left to see the two cars.

neil’s finger lifts off the trigger.

hopper parks the truck, having already called for backup the second he saw neil holding a gun at his son.

he gets out, has that intimidating air about him that makes everything else quiet.

“we doin’ alright here?” hopper asks, hands resting on his belt, close to his gun.

“everything’s fine,” neil grits out.

“‘everything’s fine’ but you’re holding a gun at your boy. explain that to me,”

“listen here, pig, i don’t need you tellin me how i can raise my kids!”

“not questioning your parenting, just your choice of punishment,”

“he broke up my car!” neil yelled, hopper looked over to the (absolutely demolished) truck. “i told him, i told him he ain’t messin with what’s mine and the boy didn’t listen! so i’m just showin’ him how the real world is gonna come at him!”

“the real world is going to shoot him?” hopper asks with a quirk of his eyebrow.

billy has backed up all the way to the end of the driveway, behind where hopper was standing, and steve has gotten out of his car and was walking across neighboring lawns to get closer to billy.

he finally reaches billy.

“what the hell are you doing?” billy asks with wide eyes at steve, trying to keep quiet and not alert his dad and hopper.

“i—i’m not really sure,”

“jesus, you’re an idiot,” billy grumbles as he watches hopper and neil get closer as they talk.

the men are getting within ten feet of each other when hopper gets neil to put the gun down, even closes the part on his tool belt that has his gun.

neil comes off the porch, he and hopper are close, like two feet.

they’re talking quietly, and as much as steve and billy want to know what they’re saying, they don’t dare move any closer.

“—that boy!”

they only catch the end of the sentence, but neil is pointing at steve and hopper has his head turned with a disappointed look at steve.

“you couldn’t have waited in the car?” hopper groans and neil looks outraged.

“you’re telling me you support this abomination!? this is your doing, isn’t it? you allow things like this in your town? do you!?”

hoppers face looks calm.

“yeah, yeah i do,” he smiles, the mustache lifts with the rest of his face. then neil takes a swing at him.

they get into a brawl, but neil, however easy it is for him to beat up teenagers, can’t take hopper. not even on his best day.

hoppers backup shows up soon after, neil getting shoved into the back of a cop car with handcuffs (god, billy wishes he could get a picture of that).

hopper gets statements from steve and billy and susan and max. even mrs. garibaldi, the neighbor whose window looks right into the hargrove house and has written down dates and descriptions of what she sees (what a godsend, that woman is).

hopper has friends with high positions, good lawyer friends who don’t mind doing a good thing for a bad situation.

everything works out in the end.

plus, steve has a gnarley scar along the side of his neck, leading to his ear that billy enjoys kissing all the time. (and a lifetime of aches from waiting three days to do to the hospital for his backwards arm!)

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (4)

A/N: Apologizing in advance (except not really). Pleeeease let me know what you think! Come scream in my ask heheheheh Chapter 5 out next Sunday!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, mates) & alcohol

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

You knew you shouldn’t bring Charlie along with you to hang out with your friends, but you went against your better judgement anyway and it was all Pierre’s fault. He just had to get under your skin and question your engagement with Charlie to the point that you felt you needed to prove something. So, even though he spent almost the entire day protesting it, Charlie found himself in the middle of a group of drunk 20-something-year-olds on a Friday night.

What you thought would be a means to an end in getting Pierre to leave you alone only ended up being a disaster, and you found yourself wishing that someone, anyone, even Pierre, would rescue you from Charlie’s constant whining.

“Another round?” Josh asked, grin wide as he waited for the go ahead from the rest of the group before stalking off to the bar for shots, most likely of Tequila because Josh liked to cause chaos.

“Yes!” you shouted, blatantly ignoring Charlie’s grip on your thigh that indicated he wasn’t happy with your decision. You turned to him with a smile. “You want one, right?”

“No, YN,” he barked. “I don’t.”

“What’s your problem?”

“You’re being crazy!”

“I’m not being crazy!” you growled. He rolled his eyes. “I’m just having fun.”

The rest of the table was watching you fight with him, or at least trying not to and failing desperately, but thankfully Josh returned with a new tray of shots to derail the argument.You grabbed a glass and slugged it down without an ounce of regret or care for what Charlie had to say.

“I’m going to get some air,” he snapped as he stormed off to the back patio of the bar. You rolled your eyes at his retreating form and placed the glass back on the table.

“I’ll be back.”

---

Pierre had been watching you all night, though he was sure he wasn’t the only one. Your hushed arguments with Charlie weren’t all that hushed, afterall, and everyone exchanged awkward glances after you stormed off to follow the older man. 

He thought Charlie was harshing everyone’s mood, and he would be right about that. He winced when you threw back shots and rolled his eyes when you got a bit too loud. As you got drunker, Charlie got more restless, and a blow up was imminent. 

Now, Pierre really wasn’t the type to insert himself into other people’s bullshit. In fact, he tried to avoid it as much as possible. But it was you, it was always you that made him do stupid things and say stupid shit, and that’s why he ignored the voice in his head and followed the two of you towards the patio. 

He tried to blend in as best he could, knowing that you’d rip his head off if you saw him eavesdropping, and stood opposite the mens’ bathroom to give the allusion that he was just waiting to pee. 

“Charlie, I’m not leaving,” he heard you spat. Your voice was hushed but heightened and Pierre couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer to catch the rest of your words. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“Jesus, YN,” Charlie groaned. “You knew I didn’t want to come! You knew I wanted to be at home. Why are you surprised that I want to go home now?”

“Just leave, Charlie!” you shouted. “You’re miserable and I’m not in the mood to deal with it tonight. I thought it would be nice to have you around my friends, but it’s actually been a nightmare.”

Charlie scoffed, mumbling something under his breath as he stormed back into the bar towards the entrance. You followed a moment later, too quickly for Pierre to hide and you noticed him standing there as soon as you reentered the bar.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Going to the bathroom,” he lied. “What? Do you have a monopoly on this hallway?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Have you met yourself?” he asked, lip curling into a smirk. “I mean, not even your boyfriend wants to deal with you.” 

You were about to unload every insult in the book when the door to the bathroom swung open. A man stepped out, sparing you two a curious glance before he slipped away. Pierre grabbed your wrist and pulled you into the now empty bathroom. He crowded you against the door. 

“You have an attitude and the fact that he can’t get you off is making it worse. Get a grip, dump the dude, move on and fuck someone else.”

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend, Pierre.”

“Then what the hell is stopping you?”

Absolutely nothing, apparently, because you leaned up and captured his lips with yours, fingers curling into the hair at the back of his head while he locked the bathroom door behind you. Pierre pressed you against it, thigh slotting between your legs. 

You knew it was ridiculous that this was happening and maybe that last Tequila shot was the reason you were letting this happen, but every coherent thought exited your head as soon as he was attaching his lips to your throat. His hands gripped your waist to hold you closer. The friction between your cunt and his thigh shot right to your core. He helped you grind against his thight, just the fabric of your thong covering your core. 

You tugged his lips to yours by gripping his neck, he followed willingly, tongue swiping along your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth and sucking. When he pulled away, his hand came to rest around the base of your neck. His fingers pressed into your jaw, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“I can fuck you so much better than he can. You want that?” he asked. He reached his hand beneath your skirt and pushed aside the lace covering you up. His fingers found your clit and you whimpered at his touch. “I said do you want that?”

“Yes,” you choked out. He hummed. You gasped as his fingers entered you, head thrown back against the door.

“I know Charlie couldn’t have made you this wet,” he said, pulling his fingers out and leaving you deflated. It was that moment of a pause that allowed you the coherency to try and gain control of the situation. 

With a raised brow and an unimpressed stare you began to ask, “Are you going to fuck me or--”

Pierre groaned as he pulled you to the mirror,  pressing your hips against the counter so that you were looking at yourselves in the mirror. You quivered at the sight of him behind you, tall and broad. You’d never denied that he was inherently attractive, but seeing him basically tower over you, feeling his hands engulf parts of your body, set something off in your brain and your pussy that reminded you he was far more attractive than you’d admitted before.

“You’re gonna watch what happens when a real man fucks you,” he murmured low in your ear. You moaned in response to his words. He made quick work of your skirt, pushing it over your ass to get a good look. Only briefly did he get caught up in the feeling of your soft skin beneath his calloused hands. He caught you staring and hooked his finger in your thong, yanking it down your legs. His pants followed.

He entered you hastily and leaned forward with a groan, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he filled you up. You cursed as he pulled your hips back into his to bury himself deeper.

With a shaky breath, he spoke, “You’re so fucking tight.”

He was so much larger than Charlie and it felt so good to be stretched like that. He wrapped your hair in his fist and tugged so that you were looking at yourself in the mirror. He pulled out and thrust back into you, bottoming out and watching as your mouth fell open with a loud moan. He was quick to pull your back to his chest and muffle your sounds with his free hand.

“As much as I want to hear you scream, you’re going to have to be quiet if you want to leave here with some dignity, okay?”

He released you from his grip and pushed you back onto your hands, fingers curling into your hair once more to make sure you watched while he fucked you. His thrusts were deep and slow and you were a moaning mess beneath him, unable to hold his gaze in the mirror because with each thrust you were rolling your eyes back in pleasure.

“Tell me how this feels.”

“S-so good.”

“You can do better than that,” he grunted, hand curling around your throat to pull you upright.

“I fucking hate you.”

It was the hottest sex you’d ever had and that realization made your head spin. He was using you, you were using him, and it felt so fucking good.

He gripped your thigh and placed your leg on the counter, cunt on display in the mirror as he fucked you deeper and harder. His finger circled your clit. Before long, you were rubbing yourself against his hand and pushing back onto his dick as you chased your high. The moans you’d been suppressing were released as his thrusts became more erratic.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered. “All fucked out because of me. Such a slut for me, huh?”

The curses and moans falling from your mouth coupled with the sound of his cock slamming into you created an obscene backtrack to the music the DJ was playing. You were thankful he was loud enough to drown your sounds out. Pierre pulled your back to his chest once more as he helped your along to orgasm. His own hips faltered, thrusts becoming sloppy, as he chased his own high.

“Cum.”

The demand sent you over the edge. You unraveled beneath him, head thrown back against his shoulder as you moaned, legs shaking from the aftershocks as he fucked you through it. He watched you fall apart in the mirror as he continued railing you, cocky smirk on his lips. The stimulation was too much and you were seeing stars as he worked towards his own orgasm. Finally, he pulled out, continuing to pump his length until he came, cum dripping down your ass and the back of your thighs. 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Pierre dressed himself and grabbed paper towels to wipe his cum off your skin. After tossing them, he turned to find you fully dressed and fixing yourself in the mirror. He stepped up beside you, once again crowding you against the counter. He gripped your ass with one of his hands and whispered in your ear, “Next time, just forget your underwear. Save us the time.”

---

You woke up to three things.

The first: a text from Charlie apologizing for the night before. 

The second: a massive hangover migraine.

The third: the memory of Pierre taking you against the sink in a bar bathroom. 

What a fucking mess. 

You responded to the text to let him know that you’d talk later, you popped an Advil and prayed the hangover would go away, and then you texted Josh and requested Plan B because although you were on birth control and Pierre pulled-out, you could never be too safe.

“Chuckie boy doesn’t strike me as the type to go raw without being in a committed relationship.”

“Just, please, just shut up,” you groaned, snatching the box out of his hands as he pushed past you and entered the apartment. 

Okay, so you lied to him. What else were you supposed to do? Tell him that the teammate you hated the most railed you in a bathroom while he was on the dance floor? He wouldn’t have let you hear the end of it. So, if he assumed Charlie was the one hitting it raw, then you’d let him assume.

“Did he leave early last night? I swear you were with us later than he was.”

“Yeah, I ended up at his apartment after.”

It was easy to ignore any suspicions about yours and Pierre’s whereabouts because your friends were too drunk and too busy dancing to even notice you were both gone. Besides, Pierre left the bathroom a bit before you to keep all the questions you’d’ve gotten if you arrived back together at bay.

“Take your baby blocker pills and get ready for brunch.”

 Unsurprisingly, the girls planned a brunch just a few blocks away from your apartment for that morning. Had you stayed even a bit sober the night before, you wouldn’t have fucked Pierre knowing you had to see him the next morning. But, it was water under the bridge now and you needed to deal with the consequences. 

As you got ready for brunch, you found yourself staring at your naked body in the mirror, remembering the places he touched you. You swore you could still feel it. You wanted to regret it, but you just didn’t and you wouldn’t because he gave you the best orgasm you’d had in a long time.  

Pierre was already at brunch when you arrived. He was the first person you noticed, standing at the buffet line with his back to the entrance. His tattoos peeked out from beneath the hem of the sleeves of his classic white t-shirt and his dress pants were tailored to perfection, cropped at the ankle and tight around his ass. You’d never actually noticed him like this, or taken in the way he looked in whatever clothes he wore, but now you simultaneously wanted to fuck him and fight with him. Had it not been for Josh’s hand gently shoving you towards the buffet, you may have stood in place staring at him. 

When some of the other boys greeted you, he turned to say hello as well, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“Morning,” he said. You rolled your eyes at him. 

“Tu as l’air en forme aujord’hui,” he spoke, eyes trained on yours. It was hard to look away and roll your eyes at him, but you managed it. Hardly.

“Pierre, let’s just keep our insults in English so it’s fair for the both of us,” you groaned with a scowl. He chuckled to himself, clearly pleased that he’d gotten a rise out of you, but then his teammate spoke up.

“That wasn’t an insult,” Alexandre Texier spoke, but Pierre pulled him away from you before he could give the real translation. He slung an arm over his shoulder as they retreated, like a high school bully would to the younger kids. You turned to Josh.

“If it wasn’t an insult, then what did he say?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Use Google translate. Now, can you move? They just put a new platter of eggs out.”

Like some type of sick joke, you ended up across from Pierre while you ate. And although it was easy to ignore his wandering eyes by engaging in conversations with others around you, the nudging of his knee against yours demanded your attention and his laugh drowned out every other sound in the room. You kept your eyes off of him regardless.

Josh stood to run to the bathroom and you saw Pierre turn to talk to you out of the corner of your eye. Before he could speak, you barked, “It’s not happening.” He raised a brow at you. “Ever again.”

“Never?” he asked, leaning across the table towards you. The smell of his cologne filled your senses and you leaned away to escape it. 

“Never.”

A confident smile graced his lips and he nodded as he leaned back against his seat.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

+++

Translation: “Tu as l’air en forme aujord’hui” - You look good today

[silhouetteofacedar]

Impersonal, Ch. 6

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, Rated E

This is a mistake.

The diner is sun-warmed and bustling, rich with the aroma of coffee and butter. Scully feels oddly disarmed by the cheery atmosphere and steady stream of Sunday morning breakfasters parading past their little booth in the corner.

“It’s a beautiful day. Should we get our orders to-go?” she asks, scooting further towards the window.

“Coffee’s already poured,” Mulder replies, lifting his mug. “Relax, Scully. It’s the weekend. Besides, can you imagine trying to eat a Denver omelette while walking?”

Damn him, how is he so calm? There he is, freshly showered and shaved and smelling incredible in a soft navy blue sweater, dumping another packet of sugar into his coffee. She almost chastises him for it, as a defense mechanism, until she tastes her own cup and stiffens at the bitterness.

“Jesus, Mulder, why do you like this place so much? The coffee could strip the paint off my car.”

He grins at her. “It’s got character, Scully. And they make a mean hash brown.”

Scully had been planning her speech all day yesterday, preparing herself for this meeting. But her courage is waning fast. She tries to ignore the way the morning light kisses his face, lights up the colors in his eyes. He raises an eyebrow at her and the moment dissipates.

“So what’s the occasion, Scully? Am I in trouble?”

“In the grand scheme of things, it’s very likely,” Scully quips, taking another cautious sip of her coffee before giving up and reaching for another sugar packet.

“Mm,” he agrees. “Good thing I have you around.”

“Do you,” she murmurs, shaking sugar into her cup. She crumples the packet between her fingers.

“Don’t I?”

“Well, I’m here, so that’s something.”

“Yes you are.” His eyes are so soft she has to look away.

She takes a deep breath. “Mulder, Friday was the last time.”

His face goes blank. “Okay.”

She looks down at her mug. “Okay,” she echoes.

She thinks she should feel better, but she doesn’t.

Their waitress bustles in, popping the bubble of tension around them as she plunks their plates down on the freckled formica tabletop. “Denver omelette and fruit for the lady, and the home run special for this one,” the waitress says with an appreciative wink. “Bet you’ve stolen a few bases in your day.”

Scully can feel her ears getting hot, and she busies herself with her food until the waitress walks away.

“‘In my day’… was she calling me old?” he muses, shoveling eggs into his mouth.

“She’s got at least ten years on you, Mulder. I highly doubt she thinks you’re old,” Scully replies, stabbing a piece of honeydew with her fork. “I think it was a compliment.”

He watches her face as he chews. “Huh.”

“What?”

He swallows his mouthful, washes it down with coffee. “Scully, are you… are you jealous?”

Damn. How can he still read her so easily? She’s been putting up brick walls around herself all morning. “No, I’m not jealous, Mulder. Eat your breakfast.”

Mulder tears the crust off his toast with his teeth. “So are we splitting the bill or is this a date?” Scully opens her mouth, but he keeps talking. “Because if you’re wining and dining me I’ll order a glass of orange juice. They squeeze it fresh.”

Maybe she had misread the whole situation. She had invited him here to discuss the termination of their arrangement, yet after she blurted it out he seemed completely unfazed and continued making jokes and behaving as though nothing had happened.

Isn’t that what you wanted, Dana? To pretend nothing happened?

Mulder is talking to her with his mouth full, but she doesn’t hear him. She barely tastes her omelette, chases a grape around her plate. When did she get so damn soft? She used to be good at this, organizing her thoughts and feelings into neat little boxes. Mulder was supposed to be the sloppy one in this situation, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s just been knocked on her ass.

“Scully?”

Shit. “Hm?”

“I just said I’m having my right leg amputated in the the quest to fulfill my peg-legged fantasies, and you didn’t even offer to do the honors. You okay?”

Scully sighs. “I’m fine, Mulder. Just a little tired.”

“Was there… something else you were wanting to-”

“No, no,” she insists. Her coffee’s gone cold and sludgy with sugar at the bottom of the mug. “It’s nothing.”

Mulder shrugs and returns to decimating his breakfast.

When the waitress brings the check, Scully grabs it as Mulder begins to extract his wallet from the pocket of his coat. “I’ve got it,” she says, locking eyes with him. Please hear what I’m saying, she thinks. Don’t make me spell this out. Not yet.

“Okay,” he says softly, putting his wallet away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replies.

He walks her to her car, and she wonders what wrong turn she made in life that guaranteed he wouldn’t be kissing her goodbye. They stand awkwardly on the sidewalk next to her vehicle, Scully clutching a styrofoam box containing leftovers she’ll eat in front of the tv tonight.

‘So,” Mulder says genially, “will I be held culpable in the afterlife as your reason for skipping Mass?”

“I think we can both agree that’s the least of your transgressions,” Scully replied. She laid a tentative hand on his forearm, gave it a soft squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mulder.”

“Later, Scully. Thanks for breakfast.”

She nods, fumbling with her keys, as Mulder walks away. He takes two steps before turning back to her. “Hey, Scully.”

“Yes?”

He scratches his chin absently. “Uh, if you ever want to renegotiate… I know a guy.”

Her stomach flips. She clears her throat, steadies herself. “Mulder, I’ve made it pretty clear to Frohike that I’m not interested.”

He nods sagely. “It was worth a shot, for the little guy’s sake,” he replies. “See you tomorrow.”

He gives her a corner of a smile before heading back down the street.

Scully is so flustered that she drives a block and a half before realizing she left her takeaway box on the roof of the car.

[avengerscompound]

Until the End of the World - 14

Until the End of the World: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count:  1899

Rating:  E

Warnings: pregnancy, canon typical violence

Synopsis: Four years after Steve and Bucky got to the bottom of the HYDRA conspiracy that had led to you and your son being hunted for the first three years of his life, you, Bucky, and Steve have carved out a nice life together.  Things are calm and you feel like a family unit.  When Geo starts calling Bucky and Steve ‘dad’, a decision is made to try and add to your family.

Things aren’t as calm as they seem.  When your pregnancy hits the papers, HYDRA rears its head once again, and Steve and Bucky need to track you down to protect the family they had created.

Chapter 14

The morning had the chaotic energy that Steve had come to love since you’d first moved in all those years ago.  Not every day was like this.  Often he’d come back from his run to find Geo watching morning cartoons eating his cereal quietly while you and Bucky were plating up breakfast for the adults, and everything was calm and moving smoothly.  Then there were days like today.  Days when he’d get in and Bucky would be looking harried as he juggled three different things in the kitchen, and you were chasing Geo around with a towel wrapped around your head because Geo was still in his pajamas.

Steve couldn’t quite explain why he liked this kind of morning chaos.  Maybe it was because he thrived on stress and he was good at making decisions on the fly.  Maybe it was just that it felt real.  It wasn’t the fairytale happy ending.  It was a real family dealing with real things.  Given how bizarre his life could get, it was nice having something so completely normal he could rely on sometimes.  With the resistance he was hitting with getting both him and Bucky to be able to legally adopt Geo without you giving up any of your parental rights, it was nice to get this reminder that even if it had to just be a case of one or the other, this was his family and no law would change that.

“Geo, you need to get a move on, we’re going to be late,” you said, as you tried to dry out your hair.  You still had your robe on, and you were moving around the apartment like you were looking for something.

“What are you missing, honey?”  Steve asked as he came in.  You were very close to your due date, you’d been suffering more and more by what you had been calling ‘baby brain’.  The most common signs of it were forgetting simple words, going into a room to do something and forgetting what you went in there for, and misplacing just about everything you put your hands on.

“My purse,” you said.  “We have to pay for his excursion to the Natural History Museum.”

“You had it by the bed,” he said.  “Something about chapstick.”

“Shit, right,” you said, hurrying back into the bedroom.  “Get dressed, Geo,” you shouted over your shoulder as you disappeared into your room.

Steve chuckled, following after you.  “Did you want me to do the drop-off today?”  He asked as he pulled off his sweatstained compression shirt.

“No, it’s fine.  I have to go out today anyway,” you said.  “I just don’t want him to get there late.”

“I’ll just take a shower and help you both get ready,” Steve said, coming over and kissing the top of your head.  You looked up at him from your seat on the edge of the bed.  “Thank you, honey,” you said.

He left you to get ready and took his shower, making it quick and perfunctory, before coming out and getting dressed.  You were standing eating toast while Bucky and Geo sat at the table finishing up their breakfast.

You looked at your phone and thrust it quickly into your purse.  “Come on, G,” you said.  “We have to go.”

Geo shoved the last mouthful of pancake into his mouth and jumped off his chair.  He kissed Bucky on the cheek and then Steve.  “Bye, dads,” he said, grabbing his bag.

“Are you doing pick up, Buck?”  You asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Bucky nodded.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY announced as Steve was pouring himself a coffee.  “You’re needed urgently in the strategy room.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY,” Steve said, putting his cup back down.  “Guess I won’t be eating after all.”

“There’s always coffee and donuts up there,” Bucky said, getting up and collecting up the dishes.  “I’ll see you up there.”

Steve kissed his cheek and followed you out into the hall.  “Hope it’s nothing too bad,” you said.  The elevator doors were opening as the three of you walked down the hall.

“We’ll handle it,” he said and kissed your cheek.  “Have a good day.  You take the elevator, I’ll use the stairs.”

“Thanks, honey,” you said, bustling Geo through the doors.  “See you tonight”

Steve veered off into the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time.  It was a dozen floors up, but he moved quickly and he arrived at the strategy room sooner than if he’d waited for the elevator to return.  It was still early, so the only people present were Hill, who always got in well before any of the Avengers, and always left much after them, and a couple of lower down SHIELD agents whose jobs it was just to make sure someone was there if something big went down.  They monitored lines of communication and passed off intel gathered overnight to the appropriate people.

They both looked nervous like they were expecting to be court marshaled for something.  “What’s going on?”

“Do either of you knuckleheads want to tell him or should I?”  Hill snapped.

They shifted uneasily and looked down at the ground as Sam came into the room.

“What’s this big emergency?”  He asked.

“About three hours ago, they got word there was a breakout at the Raft,” Hill explained.  “It was a minor breakout, but precise and coordinated.  They lost one prisoner.  These idiots thought the appropriate response would be to send two Agents out to see if they could recover said escapee.  Didn’t think to ask who it was that escaped.”

“Who was it?”  Steve asked, feeling a slow tightening in his chest.

“Ophelia Sarkissian,” Hill said when neither of the agents would speak up.

“Viper?”  Steve said, quickly moving to the computer panels.  Immediate and intense dread set it.  You would already be halfway to the school and while you had a driver with you, they were not equipped to deal with a HYDRA attack.  He could only imagine that that’s why Viper had made the break.  He began searching up the tracking on the car and logging into the police reports for incidents on the path between here and the school.  “You couldn’t have led with that?”

“Has she already left?”  Sam asked, reading his mind.

“Yes, she would have been in the car by the time I got here,” Steve said.  There were no police reports but the usual route you took to the school had been blocked off by road work and you’d been diverted down one of the smaller side alleys.  “Shit,” Steve cursed.  “FRIDAY, assemble the team immediately.”

“Yes, sir,” FRIDAY replied.

“I’ll go now,” Sam said.  “Scout ahead.  Maybe I can get to her before they do.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said, quickly flicking through the possible alternate routes.  “FRIDAY, tell Geo to let his mom know what’s happening.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI responded.  Almost simultaneously the system began lightning up with calls to 911 reporting an attack.

“Shit!”  Steve cursed.  “Hill, tell the other’s what’s happening.  I’m going to suit up.”

He ran out the door and down to the armory, taking the stairs again because even the elevator couldn’t beat his quickest descent down the stairs.  He pulled on his armor as quickly as he could and by the time he was done Bucky and Bruce had come in.  

“They took her?”  Bucky asked in a panic as he quickly tried to get dressed in his armor.

“We don’t know for sure, but there’s a large attack in the city on her route,” Steve answered.  “I’m going now, catch me up when you can.”

“Tony is already on his way.  You want a lift with the Hulk?”  Bruce asked.

“Do you mind?”  Steve asked.

“For this?  No,” Bruce said.

Steve rubbed Bucky’s shoulder as he followed Bruce out.  The scientist took no time to release his anger when they reached the street, hunching over as his muscles expanded and twisted and his skin turned green.  The Hulk looked around for a moment to get his bearings, and then down at Steve.  “Which way?” He grunted.

Steve pointed and the Hulk picked him up and jumped.  The Hulk couldn’t fly, but the leaps he took were so large and so fast that it was almost as good as.  It wasn’t long until the sounds of sirens and gunfire reached them, and soon after that, Sam and Tony came into view, circling a scene of chaos on the ground.  Police were scattered through a five-block area, trying to get people out to safety, and putting up roadblocks.  Large groups of people dressed in dark green bodysuits fired into the crowd.  “What’s the word?”  Steve said when Hulk dropped him to the ground and charged into the group of HYDRA agents.

“They just swarmed her,” Sam said.  “The car is there, and the driver is dead.  There’s no sign of either her or Geo.”

“No one saw which way they went?”  Steve asked as he charged into the crowd after the hulk, throwing his shield at the enemy to clear his way to the car.

“Sorry, Cap,” Sam answered.  A lot of the witnesses were eliminated immediately, and the ones that weren’t are in shock.  There are vague ‘we saw them being pulled into a black van’ but Tony and I have been doing sweeps and the only black vans we’ve seen aren’t it.”

“What the fuck?”  Steve said as he rushed to the car.  Tony didn’t even call him on his language, and Steve almost wished he had.  The car hood had been crushed by something and the driver was dead behind the wheel.  Both doors hung open and when Steve looked inside he saw Geo’s backpack, tablet, and your purse scattered over the back seat.

Steve felt like part of his heart had been ripped out.  A group of HYDRA swarmed on him and he quickly fought them off.  “How are there so many of them?”  Steve asked.  “I thought we’d weeded them out.”

“You know what they say, Cap,” Tony replied. “Cut off one head…”

“... and two more… Yeah, yeah,” Steve replied.

Steve looked around and ran out of the alley in the direction he hoped they might have driven off in.  There were rubber marks on the road, the kind left when a car peels off quickly.  “Tony, Sam, the vehicle that took them took off to the west.  It was definitely heavy.  I’d say a van or a truck.  Scan anything that might fit that.  They may have cloaking.”

“On it,” Sam said, swooping off to the west.

“FRIDAY, we need to do roadblocks, search all heavy vehicles,” Steve added.

“Sending in the request to the NYPD now,” FRIDAY responded.

Steve was about to jump back into the fight and see if he could question one of the HYDRA agents - not that he thought it would do any good - when Bucky appeared.  “Steve, what happened?  Where are they?”

Steve shook his head, feeling that cool exterior starting to crack now that Bucky was here too.  He took a deep breath, attempting to pull it together even though all his body seemed to want to do was let himself break down in his lover's arms.  He closed his eyes for a moment and shook it off.  “We’ll get them back, Buck,” he said, putting his hand on Bucky’s arm.  “We have to.”

// NEXT

[amelialincoln]

The Way Life Goes (2)

She thic and she important. Feel free to leave part 3 prompts or theories in my ask box. As always, enjoy...

TW: substance abuse

“Have you seen Amelia?” Was the first thing the general surgeon asked Link at the beginning of the work week on Monday. Link shrugged, pushing his overgrown shaggy hair out of his face and tugging his Ipad aggressively out of the charger.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. Meredith eyed him in a way that made him uncomfortable enough to continue. “Scout and I have been crashing at Jo’s since Friday. I’d assume she’s at my apartment.” He didn’t get very far before Meredith stepped in front of him.

“Look, as irritating as it is, the minute shit is going down in her life she’s at my house in seconds. She didn’t come to the after party and hasn’t shown up for her shift yet today. I really doubt she’s just hanging out in your apartment.” She crossed her arms, looking somewhat terrifying, despite the fact that he loomed over her.

“I can't talk right now, I have surgery.” He replied, pushing back any fears of where she might be and focusing on the chart in front of him.

“She rejects your proposal and now you’re just done? What happened to you guys?” Link’s jaw tightened so hard you could hear the sound of his teeth clashing.

“She doesn’t want to be with me. It’s as simple as that.”

“I don’t think she doesn’t want to be with you. She just obviously isn’t ready to get married. And I think you knew that.”

“Whatever, Meredith.” Link’s throat was tight as he pushed past her, swallowing down his guilt.

She had somehow found herself to Link's apartment in a daze, praying he wasn’t there as she pushed through the door. He wasn’t. She grabbed some clean clothes and more cash before leaving once again.

It was somewhat exhilarating, living on the edge. Chasing high after high and making sure that the timing is perfect to prevent any meaningful thoughts from actually surfacing. So far she'd been excelling at it. However, it was when she was halfway back that she realized she had fucked up. Anger and self hatred hit her like a ton of bricks and she almost staggered back. The high had worn off and her mind had started to scream. You are so weak. Back here again after you promised the last time was the end. So many promises, she thought. So many empty promises that she’d broken time and time again. The promise that she’d made to be a good mother. Failed, again. Why should she even attempt to pick up the broken pieces after she found herself back to square one each time? Why not stop trying to fix it and just accept herself for who she truly is, an addict? Why keep disappointing the people that care about her over and over? There was no point. Not anymore. Scout’s name was blaring in her mind like an alarm. He’s better out without you. She convinced herself. Don’t let yourself ruin him. You destroy everything you touch.

“Amelia.” Camilla was looking at her weird. She tried to focus on her new friend, attempting to calm her shaking hands. “Wait too long?” She asked, digging into her bag. All Amelia could do was nod and pull out the cash. “This one’s on me.” Camilla placed a reassuring hand on Amelia’s shoulder as she rolled up her sleeve. She paused, with bated breath, until the image of Scout faded from her mind.

“Can you hear me?” Meredith practically yelled into the crackling phone. “I’m sorry, I know this is your honeymoon. I just still haven’t heard from her and you know her better than me so I need you to tell me what I should do.”

“Is this about Amelia?” Maggie’s groggy voice asked into the speakerphone. “You still haven’t heard from her?”

“I wouldn’t have called if I hadn't. I’m worried about her.” She could practically hear Maggie’s hesitation. “Don’t come back. Don’t even offer that.”

“She’s been having a rough time,” Maggie sighed. “Richard doesn’t let on too much but I know COVID has been hard on her. Link has good intentions. He just hasn’t ever had to see her at her lowest.”

“You think she’s using?” Meredith’s voice was hushed as she passed her Ipad to a nurse and thanked her quietly before letting herself into her office.

“I mean if I rejected a proposal from a man who meant a lot to me because I wasn’t ready I’d probably down a bottle of wine out of guilt." Maggie smiled bitterly.

“She’s stayed sober through a lot worse,” Meredith countered, glancing up to find Bailey waiting at the door with an expression she knew too well. “Hey, I’ve got to go. Tell Winston I say hi.”

“I will. Talk to you later.” Meredith placed her cell phone in her scrub pocket before meeting an irritated Bailey at the door.

“Where’s Shepherd?” Meredith knew what she was going to say before she even spoke the words. She bit the inside of her cheek, not knowing how to respond.

“Why?” She asked, receiving an eyebrow raise.

“Because she’s got a gliosarcoma in an hour and she hasn’t clocked in,” Bailey stated, fixing her lab coat and giving Meredith an exasperated look. “Look, whatever drama she and Doctor Lincoln are having, I don’t care. She can show up to work.”

“I don’t know where she is,” Meredith responded. “I honestly have no idea.”

“Wha--” Bailey started. She let out a grunt of disapproval before waving an agitated hand in the air and storming off. Meredith bit the nail on her thumb, sending yet another message to the missing neurosurgeon and wondered guiltily, for a moment, why she was so self destructive.

Link spent a lot of time in the ER compared to his colleagues. Compared to most other specialties, the majority of cases that presented themselves in the emergency room were ortho related. Most of the time it was pretty mundane, whether it be a broken ankle or a dislocated shoulder, but to keep the hospital from impending lawsuits, he was usually needed to supervise the interns, who were prowling in the ER looking for cases and trying to pop limbs back into place or reset joints, thinking they could handle it easily on their own.

As a result of this, Link was already in the OR when the trauma came in. He was sitting in the swivel chair behind the desk, dragging his feet across the floor to propel him side to side. He wasn’t paged so he was unfazed by the ambulance pulling up. Then again, he wasn’t really fazed by much these days after falling into a somewhat self deprecating state. He stared at the clock, hoping he’d be let off early.

“Did you hear about this?” Bailey asked Richard, as she secured her gown around herself and handed him a pair of gloves.

“Yeah,” Richard’s voice was a tone that Link couldn’t quite decipher. “Bunch of overdoses at Quilchena, saw it on the news in the lounge. Must’ve been something laced in whatever they all were doing.” He snapped his gloves aggressively over his hands as if he were mad at something. “This kind of thing has been happening all the time because of COVID. Addicts have been struggling during the pandemic. Never seen meetings so full.” Link found himself wondering if he was talking about Amelia. Bailey nodded to Richard sympathetically ask they rushed to meet the gurney’s being pushed into the ER.

“John Doe,” the paramedic announced. “Got naloxone at the scene, friend administered it. Conscious but having trouble breathing.”

“Page cardio,” Bailey ordered to a resident. Link watched curiously as Richard froze in place.

“Jane Doe,” the paramedic continued. “Unconscious but breathing. She--”

“Put her in trauma one,” Richard ordered firmly. Link wished he could see what was going on as he watched the blood drain from Bailey’s face. “Don’t let anyone see her. She wouldn’t want that.” It clicked in Link’s brain at that very moment when the pair of them turned to look his way. He got out of the chair he was in so fast that it clattered to the ground behind him.

Her face was so pale it was practically grey and her arms and lips were tinted a purpley blue. She looked so slender he felt like one could reach out and just snap her in half. Her expression was almost peaceful though, and that’s what haunted him most. The image of her was burned into his mind immediately and he knew, as they wheeled her away, that it would never be forgotten.

As Bailey and Richard steered her gurney away he felt frozen in place before finally, and without any indication from his mind, his feet began to follow them.

“She’s seizing,” Bailey exclaimed, her hands flying up to either side of her head to avoid holding any of her limbs in place. “Where the hell is trauma?” Link watched as she twitched, bile building up in the back of his throat. He felt slightly dizzy. He’d never been one to get queasy, even in med school while the rest of his peers either fainted or threw up during their first time observing in an OR. That’s when he knew he wanted to become a surgeon. He wasn’t sure if it was his ego telling him that he was superior for being the last one standing or the tiny and quick glance of approval the attending gave him before going back to ignoring him completely. Though, there must be something different about seeing someone he loved in this situation because he had to place a hand on the doorway to steady himself and looked away. Teddy came through the doors at that moment, brushing past him as if he didn’t exist. For a reason he couldn't quite explain let out a breath of relief that it wasn’t Owen. Something in his mind was screaming your fault, your fault, your fault. And selfishly, he hoped that Meredith, or really anyone who cared for Amelia half as much as he did, wasn’t at the hospital, and theorized that she’d probably beat him to a pulp.

“Can I help?” He found himself croaking, receiving only a glance from Richard.

“Absolutely not,” the general surgeon replied firmly, before finally getting Amelia connected to the monitor. Everyone in the room kind of paused for a moment, reading the levels and unanimously thinking to themselves silently, fuck.

“She’s coding,” Teddy proclaimed, as the alarm-like sound began to reveal itself. Link’s heart sank and he reached out to grab her hand, ignoring Richard’s orders for him to leave. Her palm was cold like ice, but not the dead kind of cold. Cold as if she’d just run in and out of the water, grinning and calling to him as if the ocean’s touch had electrified her, sending a rush of serotonin through her veins. Link remembers that look from when they’d gone down to California, for a conference that she was speaking at, like it were yesterday. She’d convinced him to go swimming, despite it being mid February, and had explained that diving into the frigid waves replicated the feeling of euphoria she used to get when a really good high would hit her full force. She’d told him about how she would swim a lot when she was first getting sober, craving the way the world felt like it was on pause and the way that silence filled her ears when her head was completely underwater. That was really the last time she’d grinned at him like that. Right before Covid had really hit. The first time they’d left Scout for the weekend with his parents. Coming up out of that water like she had been brought back to life.

He’d been so blind. He’d watched her slip into a mindless routine. Go to work. Drive home. Feed the baby. Put the baby to bed. Go to bed. Wake up. Every day, over and over. She would walk around like a ghost, stuck between life and death. He had ignored the way she'd fill her free time with meetings and when she had started going to sleep before he got home, brushed it off as postpartum and told himself that everything between them was fine. Postpartum doesn’t last this long you idiot.

“Clear!” Teddy’s calm voice echoed through the room, snapping him back to reality, and he pulled away his hand last minute before her chest rose and fell. His eyes flicked to the heart monitor, nothing. “Again, charge to three fifty. Clear!” The room fell silent as the compression pads thumped. Nothing. Teddy paused, staring at the monitor.

“Dr. Altman?” The nurse called out. “Again?” Her voice was quiet as the trauma surgeon lifted a hand in response.

“Wait,” her voice had become soft. The monitor beeped as a small peak rose and fell. “Come on, Amelia,” Teddy muttered.

“Charge again,” Bailey ordered.

“Just give her a second,” Teddy pleaded, not taking her eyes off the screen. “She’s fighting.” The trio of doctors stared at the monitor while Link fixated his eyes on his girlfriend and slid his hand into hers once again, interlocking his fingers with hers. Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. The monitor beeped, and then beeped again, and then again. Link forced himself to look up and watched as the numbers climbed.

“Thank you, god.” Bailey brought a shaking hand to her face before closing her fingers into a fist and pressing it to her forehead. “We are lucky that the lord is looking out for this woman because the people in her life seem to not be.” The comment cut through Link like a knife.

“Bailey, that is not fair!” Richard exclaimed. Link had never heard the man raise his voice with such aggravation, even Bailey winced as she stormed out of the room, throwing her gloves to the side.

“She’s lost a lot of people...and a lot of surgeons,” Richard muttered in apology to him.

“Can she breathe on her own?” Link choked, looking at Teddy, who shifted on her feet.

“She’s weak. I’d like to keep the tube in for a couple of hours at least. See how she does. I’d also like to get neuro down here to give her a check. Let’s get her up to the ICU for now and monitor her closely. She’s stable. Let’s focus on that for now.” Link nodded, not knowing what else to say as Teddy pulled off her gown and tossed it into the bin before practically staggering out of the stuffy room.

“I didn’t know.” Something about the way Richard was looking his way was causing a buildup of defensiveness inside him.

“How?” Richard shook his head with disappointment, massaging his throbbing temple and trying to block out the emphysematous but rhythmic breath sounds coming from the breathing tube. “How, did you just not know?” His colleague was radiating judgment and Richard’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits before his entire body slumped, in no effort to lecture Link about something he should be hearing from Amelia. He looked at his friend, without a trace of condemnation, knowing, so easily, that it could be him in that hospital bed and her where he was standing. “It’s not my place,” he finally stated, tearing his eyes away from Amelia and blinking away any buildup in his tear ducts. He turned to the nurse and thanked her, always polite. “When you take her up can you make it discreet?” He knew the woman had recognized Amelia immediately. “Her reputation is on the line.” The nurse nodded as if she understood. Richard thanked her again before exiting the room.

Richard had ended up telling Meredith, who stopped by to let Link know that she and Hayes would pick up Scout from daycare and take him home with them. Link couldn’t read her expression, it was clouded as if she was undergoing an internal conflict that caused her to wince and look away upon glancing at Amelia. Some of the colour had returned to her cheeks, they looked as if someone had applied too much blush to a pale complexion and were hot to the touch. Teddy had removed the breathing tube about an hour ago. She’d gasped at first, her lungs whistling and wheezing in protest. Enough to make Teddy almost contemplate putting it back in before the breathing had settled.

“You didn’t look for her,” Meredith blurted out, as if she’d been trying to keep the words at bay. The look on her face told him that she regretted saying it almost immediately.

“Neither did you,” he bit back, more aggressively than he would’ve liked. Meredith’s face snapped away from him so quickly it was as if he’d physically hit her.

“If you really loved her. Enough to marry her. Her response shouldn’t have mattered,” her voice was as sharp as a knife. “She loves you and she’s been unfortunate enough to have most of the people she’s loved taken away from her. Do you know how rare it is for Amelia to come to Maggie and I teary eyed because she finally feels safe and loved and not being pressured into anything by the person she loves? " Meredith took a step back as if she didn't want to continue but couldn't help herself. "Amelia is a runner. She breaks under the expectations that the people that she loves have of her and she functions under the fear that the people she loves are going to leave her or die. So if you want to be an ass and make her feel like she isn’t enough for you because she doesn’t feel the need to commemorate her love to you on a stupid peice of paper, I will remove you from my sister’s life.” She was gone before he could even think of a reply and he stared wordlessly at the spot she’d just vacated.

“No,” the voice was so soft he could barely hear it. His head whipped to where she was lying. “No, no, no, no.” Amelia’s eyes were wide and she recoiled as he reached out to touch her. Her heart monitor climbed and he pulled back his hand. She was looking at him in a way that made his skin crawl. He realized, then, that she was looking at him in fear. She looked scared. It shocked him how quickly everything had fallen apart. How quickly he’d gone from someone she’d loved to someone she felt as though she barely knew. But it wasn’t really that quickly, a part of him was whispering over his shoulder. You just didn’t want to accept it.

“Hey.” The words sounded stupid as soon as they left his mouth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He found himself wondering what had happened to her over the last couple of days, the bruises scattered along her arms had become more evident as colour had returned to her skin. She gagged suddenly, moaning in a way that made him sick and he slid a kidney dish under her just in time. There didn’t seem to be much in her stomach so it was mostly dry heaving. Her heart monitor climbed every time he tried to touch her and he gave up on trying to hold back her hair.

“She’s awake?” Teddy stood in the doorway. Amelia looked up at her blankly before laying her head back against the hospital bed and staring up at the ceiling. The shame in her eyes were evident. Link nodded to Teddy, who gave him a somewhat genuine smile. “I’ll just do a quick vitals check.”

“No,” Amelia moaned, the pain in her voice causing Teddy to stop in her tracks. “I just want to go home. Let me go home.”

“You’re not going to go home though, are you?” Link glanced up to find Richard standing at the foot of the hospital bed, arms crossed. His stern expression was slightly wavering. Link wondered how hard it was for him to even be within two meters of her.

“Shut the fuck up,” Amelia spat, pulling her IV out of her wrist and throwing it across the room hard enough that the machine screeched against the concrete floor. Link grimaced as the IV site began to bleed. The sudden bout of energy seemed to exhaust her as she collapsed back onto the bed.

“We’re good for now, Doctor Altman,” Richard said softly, not wanting to watch as his coworker, and friend, incriminated herself in front of someone she’d regret. “You can go home with Maggie or I can check you into a rehab clinic, the choice is yours.” Link’s eyes fell to the floor, his face burning at the idea that he couldn’t be trusted to take care of her.

“Maggie’s on her honeymoon,” Amelia mumbled, the anger dying out in her eyes as she realized what his response would be before he even spoke it.

“I called her,” Richard confirmed her prediction. “Meredith is taking care of Scout and I shouldn’t even be in the same room as you.” Hot tears spilled down Amelia’s cheeks as she glared at him. You ruin everything. The voice in her head had been telling her over and over since she’d woken up.

“Rehab. I choose rehab. Call her and tell her not to come.” Maggie had arrived at the hospital an hour ago but Link decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Fine,” Richard sighed. “I’ll call right now.” He stepped outside where his daughter was waiting anxiously and placed both hands on her shoulders trying to calm her down.

“I need to go in and see her,” Maggie’s breathing was asynchronous, she held her shaky hands into her chest, trying to look into her sister’s hospital room.

“Don’t,” Richard warned. “She’s not herself right now. I shouldn’t have called and stressed you out. She chose rehab.” He watched as her face twisted in confusion.

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Maggie shook her head in disbelief. “Let me take her home.”

“I wasn’t expecting her to be this bad. It’s too much responsibility to put on anyone. I...I just don’t think it would be a good idea, Maggie.” He pulled her into a hug as she started to sob.

“Link, is he…” she trailed off as she buried her face into her biological father’s scrub top.

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” Richard sighed. “But out of everyone, he’s the last person that should be taking care of her right now.” Maggie nodded, cursing herself for not doing more as she had watched Amelia change over the last couple of months. “Has she mentioned anything about her friend Charlotte? She needs an ally, someone who understands how her brain works. I know how much you care about her, Maggie, but you can’t help her the way she really needs in a couple of days when the realization of what she’s done has hit.”

“Charlotte, the one in L.A.? I’ve talked to her a couple times, never really for too long, just over FaceTime when Amelia used to call her while living at Meredith’s.”

“Amelia brought her up a lot at meetings,” Richard bit the inside of his lip, hoping that he was making the right decision. “I think we need to call Charlotte. I think that she knows Amelia on a level that not any of us in Seattle can really understand.”

“Okay,” Maggie nodded, pushing her own feelings aside. “Get St. Ambrose Hospital in Los Angeles on the phone,” she loudly ordered to the intern, sitting at the nurses station, who had been just out of earshot, “And tell them I need to speak to Doctor Charlotte King.”

[ineffable-snowman]

Partners, accidentally (a SamBucky fic)

Link to AO3

“So when is your boyfriend coming back?” Mrs. T asked him while she bagged his groceries.

Sam sighed softly. Mrs. T had always been forgetful but since the Blip she got even more things confused.

“He won’t be coming back,” Sam told her gently. “He wasn’t blipped. He just – died. Before.”

“I’m not talking about Richard. I mean the confused white one with the leather jacket, what’s his name? Richard was, what, decades ago? You can’t still be mourning for him, dear. You need to give your new relationship a chance. And he seems such a sweet guy, wouldn’t be fair to him to still be hung up on an old love.”

“Oh. You mean Steve.” Out of politeness, Sam refrained from pointing out that the name had been Riley, not Richard, and that it had been twelve years, not decades ago. “I’m afraid he isn’t coming back either. He… moved on. Found someone else.” He shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ gesture.

“Mm, his loss. But you seem to be doing pretty well yourself.” She winked at him.

“Thanks. I mean, it definitely is a challenging role but I’m getting used to it. I hope.” He chuckled. “And in case I let it get to my head, I can always come back here.”

“That you sure can.” Mrs. T added five of the toffees with the shiny candy wrapper to the bag, the sweets she used to give him when he had been a kid. “Say hello to Sarah and the kids. And tell your boyfriend just to ask for help next time if he doesn’t find an item from his shopping list – and not sneak around my shop like a thief. I can tell you, I was this close to calling Elliot for help.”

It was this description (much more accurate than such a sweet guy) that made Sam finally realise who she was talking about.

“Oh. No.” He laughed. “Bucky is not-”

“I know, I just didn’t recognise him at first. He was wearing sunglasses and black gloves – gloves in the middle of the summer, really? Seemed a bit suspicious. But then he explained who he was before I could get my baseball bat.”

Sam grinned. He would have liked to see Mrs. T chase Bucky out of her shop. Sounded like a good story he could tease Bucky with.

“I’ll make sure to tell him to act like a normal human being next time,” he said, still grinning.

***

It was only later that the implications of Mrs. T’s words fully sunk in. There was of course the implied relationship between him and Bucky, but those kind of things happened, that people mistook someone for a couple who weren’t. But apparently Bucky had “explained who he was” to Mrs. T, and Sam could not help but wonder what his exact words had been. Bucky’s tentative “partners” came to mind – shit. Had Sam accidentally turned him down by describing them as “co-workers” instead? That had definitely not been his intention. And what a shitty way to turn someone down it would be! Someone who had just bared his heart to Sam and – no. It couldn’t be. That moment with Mrs. T when Bucky had “explained who he was” must have happened later. So what exactly had he said? What exactly did he think they were? Did Bucky consider them boyfriends? You could never know with that cyborg brain of his but it would actually explain so much. How the staring had turned into smiles, all the casual touches, them spending time outside of missions…

Sam felt completely out of his depths. Was he in a relationship without knowing it? And how did he find out without making a complete fool of himself? He could just go for the trial-and-error method and kiss Bucky next time they met. If Bucky kissed him back, he would know without revealing his cluelessness. If Bucky punched him in the face, he would know, too. Sounded like a foolproof plan. It was just that Sam Wilson did not go around simply kissing people just like that.

So he asked Sarah. He was careful with his wording.

“Do you think Bucky is a good boyfriend?” Not ‘would make a good boyfriend’. Because if Sarah found out that she knew before Sam that he and Bucky were in a relationship, he would never hear the end of it.

Sarah hummed. “Why are you asking? Did something happen?”

“Just looking for…another perspective…on this.”

“Sam, you’ve never been someone who’s blinded by love. I mean, you wrote a pros and cons list when Riley asked you out. Still can’t believe he still wanted to date you after that, by the way. So what’s going on now? You want to take the next step and need more pros on your list?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Shit, she totally thought they were dating. And maybe they were. And Sam had no idea what “the next step” was in Sarah’s mind. Moving in together? Proposing?

“Use your words, Sam,” Sarah said.

It was the first useful advice. “Hey, let’s talk about this later, okay? I need to find out a few more things before I make a decision.” Because it did not matter what Mrs. T or Sarah thought the next step was. He needed to make sure he and Bucky were on the same page about this, no matter if it was about a first date or an anniversary.

are we partners?, he texted Bucky.

For the first time ever, Bucky texted him back in less than a minute.

something come up? where are you?

at sarah’s and everything’s fine. just thinking about some stuff

are you ok???

yes

Sam sighed. He had had enough with all this miscommunication. They were grown-up people, for God’s sake. Time for a direct approach.

are we partners in a professional or in a romantic sense?

Bucky did not answer for several long, long minutes. He was online, sometimes shown to be typing but never sending a reply. After four maddening minutes like this, Sam texted:

or both?

Then he panicked and did something extremely stupid: he added a grinning emoji. So much about grownup communication. Immediately, he wanted to delete his message but Bucky had already read it.

Finally, there was a reply:

both

And five grinning emojis, which did not clear up anything. They really should not discuss this via text messaging.

i’m coming to NY on friday. do you want to meet up?

are you asking me on a date? Again with the grinning emojis.

There was no way to end this conversation in a dignified manner, so Sam just texted truthfully:

not sure

***

It was too long until Friday and yet, when Friday arrived, Sam was not ready for it. He wished the utterly boring meeting with the mayor had taken longer but there really wasn’t much to discuss. So here he was, waiting nervously in front of New York City Hall if Bucky was going to stand him up.

He didn’t. Just on time, Bucky arrived on his motorbike, looking more badass than a 107 year old man had any right to look, in his black leather jacket, black jeans and sunglasses when he sauntered towards Sam.

“Hi.” He flashed Sam a grin, came towards him, lifted a hand –

Right, looked like they were dating, so they were really doing this, Sam took a deep breath, leant forward – and his nose collided painfully with Bucky’s chin.

Bucky grimaced and took off his sunglasses, which sat askew on his nose after that disastrous greeting. So no dating. Bucky had gone in for a hug, not a kiss. Sam should have brought his wings. If there ever was a time to just fly away from an awkward situation before he could make even more of an idiot of himself it was now.

But then Bucky said, “Didn’t know if I should bring you flowers,” and at these words something eased inside Sam. Whatever this weird situation was, Bucky did not seem intent on making it weirder between them, and Sam was sure they were going to be fine.

He gave Bucky a relieved grin. “I’m allergic to most flowers, so I’m really grateful you didn’t.”

“Okay, noted. So, uh.” Bucky looked at him inquisitively, a little crease appearing between his brows (and Sam’s fingers itched to wipe it away). “I wasn’t sure if AJ and Cass had hacked your phone and were messing around with me. Or with you. Both of us. But I didn’t want to blow my chance.”

Sam shrugged apologetically. “No, that was all me. Can’t blame it on the boys, unfortunately.” Then he realised what Bucky had just said, that he didn’t want to blow his chance. It gave Sam the courage to carry on. “There’s really no way to ask this without sounding weird but… Are we dating?”

“You were the one who asked me on this… date, not-date, whatever. You should know.”

“I don’t mean right now, I mean more generally, as in…are we in a relationship?”

Bucky stared at him. “There’s definitely a lot about 21st century dating, sex, relationships that confuses me but I’m pretty sure I would’ve realised if we were dating.”

“Okay, good.” Sam did not know whether to be relieved that at least they were on the same page about this, or disappointed that they were not dating after all.

“So, people have been talking?” Bucky cocked his head. He was still staring, as if he was trying to read Sam’s mind.

“Everyone in Delacroix thinks we’re a couple. Even Sarah.”

“That a problem?”

“Not exactly. Would’ve just been weird to be in a relationship and be the last one to find out about it, you know?”

Bucky snorted. “If it’s any consolation, it’s news to me, too.” He considered Sam for a moment, never once blinking. “Doesn’t mean I’m opposed to it.”

Huh. Sam did not know what to make of this nonchalant and yet so monumental comment. “Uh. Let’s walk a bit?�� He needed time to digest this information. And also he preferred to not discuss his relationship status in front of New York City Hall.

Bucky nodded and so they strolled through the adjoining park. It was easier to talk like this than when Bucky was standing in front of him and staring him down.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind it either,” Sam finally said because it felt like it was his turn to assure Bucky that the feeling was mutual.

“Ah. Alright.” Bucky was silent for some time but then he said, “People will think what they think. Might as well go along with it.”

“At this point just going along with it is probably easier than trying to explain to them that we’re not dating.” Sam chanced a sideways glance at Bucky, caught his eye and found him grinning.

“Yup. I mean, if even your sister is convinced, she’s probably right.”

“So we’re doing this.”

“Fine with me.”

“Great.”

They exchanged another glance, both grinning. They might walk a little faster, with a spring in their step, but nothing else had changed.

“Just one thing,” Sam said. “If anyone asks us when and how we got together, we’re not going to tell them it happened like this. Because that’s just too embarrassing. I’m Captain America, I can’t have that.”

“You mean we need a cover-up story?”

“An anniversary.”

Bucky was still grinning but then he got that manic look in his eyes that told Sam that he was about to do something very risky and very stupid.

“How about when you saved me from that truck in Germany?”

Sam stopped dead. “No way. Please don’t tell me that got you hot. Seriously, Buck.”

“Nah.” Bucky shrugged. “Not in that situation anyway, that was just adrenaline and it was mostly painful, the way your knee kept hitting me everywhere. But, you know. Thinking back on it. Or imagining it happening again…”

“Jesus.” Sam made a mental note to educate Bucky on the safe, sane and consensual part of sex, emphasis on safe and sane. “Just for your information, if you get yourself under a truck on purpose, I won’t save you again.” Because it had been uncomfortable and not to mention potentially life-threatening. Still. There was something to be said about imagining it. Sam swooping in to gracefully save Bucky from a dangerous situation, them being pressed so close to each other, Bucky telling him in a low and breathless voice, “Nice job, Cap,” and then something about wanting to thank him –

“No, that’s definitely not when we started dating,” Sam insisted, heat creeping up his neck. “I can’t remember a day when you were more annoying and that’s counting the day when you jumped onto my car and ripped my steering wheel out.”

“Then what’s your suggestion for our anniversary? I need to know so I can buy you plastic flowers.”

Sam could not help but laugh. What a dork. Now he knew Bucky was going to buy him the most hideous plastic flowers ever. “When you came to Louisiana to help fix the boat. That one at least makes sense.”

“I don’t know. There were some witnesses who saw me passed out on Sarah’s couch. Not much happening that night for me.”

“The next morning then. When you came to the boat and…” Sam remembered it all too clearly. The early morning light, their hushed voices, every word seemingly too much in that small, quiet place. “I wanted to kiss you then,” he admitted. Everything about Bucky had been so soft that morning, his hair, his eyes, his shirt, his words. Now Sam’s heart was hammering so loudly in his chest that he wondered if Bucky could hear it with his supersoldier senses.

“I would have liked that,” Bucky said softly. Gone was the grin. Bucky was giving him such an open, earnest look that made Sam’s heart speed up even more but at the same time, it calmed him down.

All he managed in response was “good” and a (probably giddy) smile.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Bucky asked.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d got your head out of your ass yet.” Or if it was reciprocated.

One corner of Bucky’s mouth quirked up in self-deprecation. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. But…”

“No witnesses there who could refute that we hooked up on that boat.”

“We totally hooked up there.”

“And it was, uh… great?”

“Definitely was.”

Again they were stupidly grinning at each other and Sam was amazed how much he liked the crinkles around Bucky’s eyes when he did that.

“If someone asks for details…” Sam could hardly believe his own nerve because this was not something Sam Wilson did but somehow – contrary to first (and second) impressions – everything was easy with Bucky. “Well. I should know what to say.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Or you could just not say anything? God, that’s really not something that other people need to know, it’s personal, what is wrong with people, what happened to don’t kiss and tell?”

“So you’re going to be old school about it?” As long as it did not involve plastic flowers, Sam would be able to put up with it. He had experience with centenarian supersoldiers after all.

“Well, I am old. But other than that, it’s just decent human behaviour. Still can’t believe you asked me out via text messaging, by the way.”

Bucky was scowling, and because Sam could do it now, he placed his thumb against the crease between Bucky’s brows and tried to smooth it out. Bucky lightly swatted his hand away and rolled his eyes again.

“What would you have preferred?” Sam said. “A seaside rendezvous with a picnic? A candlelight dinner?”

Bucky’s frown only deepened and Sam could practically hear the cyborg gears start to turn and rattle. “Did you just say we should have sex?”

So he had figured it out, finally. “Your place isn’t far, is it?”

“I don’t even have a bed. And no, it’s bad enough that you think flirting via text messages is okay but when I make love to you for the first time, it’s not gonna be on the floor, that’s for sure.”

Sam did not know what to say to that. His chest had constricted at Bucky’s word and he really wanted to kiss that frown away but they should probably first discuss how comfortable they were with public displays of affection. In a direct and open way. Because no matter how much Sam enjoyed making fun of Bucky, it was not fair to leave Bucky always guessing and confused when it came to their relationship.

“Right.” Sam cleared his throat because that word had come out a bit croaked. “Not sure how you feel about it and it’s totally fine if you want to do it differently but you’re a supersoldier, so.” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Doing it standing up, against a wall – shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ve just never.” He gestured vaguely and Sam silently waited for him to finish his sentence, trying to broadcast that he would accept whatever was going to come next. Never had sex? Never had sex with a man?

“I mean,” Bucky finally said, waving his hands some more but he kept looking at Sam, not trying to hide any of his vulnerability, and Sam once more thought how brave that man was. “I’ve never had sex in this body, only before. I don’t know, anything could happen.”

Sam nodded to show it was alright. “You know what? Let’s buy a bed first.” He tried to give Bucky a reassuring smile. “And then we can still decide if we want to find out what could happen.”

“Can I at least buy you dinner first?”

Sam’s heart was doing funny things again. “Sure. Any plans?”

“Do you know Sushi?”

Sam snorted. “Risky move. I’m a Wilson, I have opinions on seafood.” (Who was he kidding, he would let Bucky drag him to the cheapest sushi chain and stuff his face with half defrosted mock crab.)

“You’re really going to make me work for it, aren’t you?”

The comment was light-hearted enough and anyway, they had already established that it was Bucky, not Sam who insisted on dinner first. So they easily fell back into their usual back and forth. “I’m not letting you get away with that whole I’m a confused old man, that’s for sure,” Sam said.

Bucky shrugged, an easy smirk playing around his lips. “Come on.” They started walking again, maybe a little closer than usually so their arms bumped together all the time. They didn’t necessarily need to hold hands here in New York but back in Delacroix where everyone was already under the impression that they were a couple…

“Hey, Buck?” Sam nudged him lightly. “It’s gonna be fine.”