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ddejavvu · 1 month

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Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Three) (18+) / Part One | Part Two

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 6.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Dinner is a tense affair, but by the end of it it feels less like walking on eggshells and more like walking around hard boiled eggs on the floor. There won’t be a goopy mess if you step wrong, but no one wants a squashed egg.

You and Jake seem to be getting on as friends, as long as you ignore all of the blatantly romantic elements of your current situation. You’re unfortunately subjected to a man beside you fingering his roommate beneath the table cloth, and you’re glad that Jake also agrees that despite being on a sex boat, that kind of thing is better done in private.

“Unless, of course, everyone’s into that,” He shoots you another one of his patented winks, and you delight in reaching across the table to steal the cherry off of his black forest cake.

“Hey! Oh, whatever,” He scoffs at your triumphant grin, reaching for his glass of wine. There’s not much left in the bottle; he’s a heavy pour and you didn’t bother counting his glasses- you just know he’s had more than one. His cheeks are just the slightest shade of pink, and you plan on snapping as many pictures as you can as soon as you can get him hazy enough to let you.

“Here, Hangman,” You feign kindness, taking hold of the bottle and trying to line the neck up with the rim of his glass despite him pulling away, “There’s only a little bit left, finish it off so you don’t waste your money.”

“No, ‘can’t.” He insists, gulping the rest of what’s in his glass in a manner rather contradictory to his words, “Gotta sober up again if we’re going out tonight.”

“I’m going out tonight,” You remind him firmly, finding woozy, pliant Jake much easier to talk to than sharp-as-a-tack Hangman, “You were all set to head to bed earlier; I thought you were some sort of kissing fiend on wine.”

“That’s why I’m soberin’ up, darlin’.” Jake drawls, and though he’s blinking slower than normal, his tone indicates that you’re the stupid one.

“Can’t be much of a security guard if my eyes are goin’ all dizzy,” He says, his tongue lazing into a southern twang that’s sharper when he’s oiled up with booze.

“Security guard?” You echo incredulously, “Hangman, what possessed you to think I’d need a security guard? I’m in the Navy, we both know how to aim between the eyes.”

“No, you know how to aim between the legs,” Jake licks the bitter wine residue from his lips, most likely tasting a sweet tinge of chocolate there, too, “I just don’t feel right leavin’ you with that Daniel guy.”

“He’s nice.” You speak with a tight clench to your teeth, and though you have to separate them to fit your dessert fork into your mouth, they still feel tense. You supplement the need to snap at him by grinding the pastry dough on your tongue into shreds with your molars. Perhaps you’re brutalizing your pie instead of enjoying it, but you’re not in much of a state to enjoy anything right now, except maybe liquor.

“If you’re not gonna drink this, I will,” You secede, waving the bottle at him, “If I’ve gotta spend the night with you I don’t wanna remember it.”

“Finally,” He scoffs, reaching now for his water glass where it’s sweating on the table cloth. His cold, calculating smooth-talk has been reduced to a petulant fit, “Only reason I bought the damn wine was for you, ‘then you had to make a big fuss about it, ‘n all of a sudden you’re suckin’ it down just ‘cause I’m gonna crash your little date later.”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very unfair, Hangman,” You drawl, the only thing stopping you from drinking straight from the bottle being the elegant setting around you, “I’m unreasonable and I think you should ask someone to switch roommates because you can’t stand me.”

“Oh, nice try,” He levels you with a glare, water beading at the corners of his lips as his hand trembles slightly around the glass, “That’s that reverse psychology bullshit. Nah, I can handle you. You jus’ need a good kiss, that’s all.”

Annoyance prickles in your chest; he’d been shaming you for kissing earlier, now he’s prescribing it?

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“Mhm.” He nods, his eyes slipping shut as he braces his hand against his forehead, elbow on the table to support his weight. He looks pitiful- like he’d worked 14 hours and not like a man on vacation. Perhaps the water is working, loosening the effects of the sweet wine and leaving him drained in its wake.

“It would calm you down, I think.” He mumbles, somewhere hazy between sleep and wake, “Jus’ gotta arm wrestle Damien for it.”

“Daniel.”

“Whatever.”

Jake has mostly sobered up by the time that you’re all four bathed in multicolored strobe lighting one deck down from the restaurant. He’s sticking to strictly water now which is bringing his awareness back, but he has to take trips to the bathroom every ten minutes. You don’t mind- you appreciate having the time alone with Daniel.

“So,” He hums, hands framing your waist and chest pressed to your own, “He’s a little protective, isn’t he? You guys have a thing going on?”

“No thing.” You snap, “There’s no thing going on between us.”

“He acts like there is,” Daniel muses, and it’s somewhere between disappointed and resentful. But his hands never stray from your skin, so you hope it’s not directed at you.

“He just- he likes to be the best in everything,” You explain, the words escaping in a sigh, “You should see him in the cockpit, he’s insufferable. ‘Always has to win. I think that’s all it is, Daniel. And- for him to win, I’d have to lose. So I think he’s trying to bully you away from me, then he can boast about how I’m lonely and he’s not. He does it all the time back home.”

Daniel’s face curves into a frown, “He seems like a douche. ‘Like the kinda guy you should stay away from.”

“Trust me, I’m trying to stay away from him,” You scoff, tucking your nose against Daniel’s chest while the music lulls into a more heartfelt melody, “But for the next seven days we’re stuck on a boat together.”

“At least Danica likes him. Maybe we can unofficially swap.” Daniel nods towards his roommate, who’s now offering Jake a beer where he’s just exited the restroom.

You watch as he grins charmingly- the same one he’d leveled at you during dinner only an hour before, “No thanks, darlin’. I’ve gotta keep an eye on that one over there.”

The pair glance at you when Jake gestures, and you realize they’ve caught you staring when you hadn’t even realized you were doing it yourself. You press your face back against Daniel’s chest, a strange breed of embarrassment heating your cheeks.

“You can drink,” You call to Jake, agonizing as you’d rather keep your voice to a low murmur against Daniel’s ear, “I don’t need to be babysat.”

At that exact moment the four shots you’d done of something they’d promised you was mild all flood to your ankle and weaken it so that it gives out under your weight. You stumble, your foot bending awkwardly as you shriek, gravity trying its best to drag you down to the scuffed floor.

Daniel’s eyes widen but he works quickly, and his strong arms brace against your back as he keeps you pressed tight to his chest. He glances over your shoulder at Jake who’d lunged forwards to catch you, and there’s a tightness in his jaw, a hardness in his eyes as he straightens up that spells irritation close to bursting. Daniel smirks at him.

“What were you saying?,” Daniel chuckles, letting you ease your hands off of him where you’d gripped tight to his biceps, “I’d make a ‘falling for me’ joke but it’d be so bad I’d throw myself overboard afterwards.”

“Sorry,” You bemoan the surely stinging handprints on Daniel’s toned biceps, “I didn’t mean to- aah,” You hiss, gingerly raising your tweaked ankle, “I rolled it or something, I’ll- ooh, I’ll be back. Just gonna ask the bartender for some ice.”

Both men step forwards to brace your weight against theirs- even Danica offers her hand, but you wave them off with a sheepish laugh.

“I’m okay, guys, really. I can walk, it just-” You wince, a twinge of pain shooting through your ankle, “It just hurts a bit. I’m gonna go sit in the bathroom for a minute with the ice on it, ‘see what that does.”

Daniel looks hesitant to leave you, but he lets you hobble to the counter. The bartender looks suspicious of your request at first, like you’re somehow cheating him out of profit by asking for six ice cubes in a plastic bag. But one glance down at your elevated ankle gets him moving, and he wraps it once in a paper towel before passing it over the counter.

The bathroom counter is not an ideal resting spot, but it does give you a chance to glance at your makeup in the mirror. It’s mostly in-tact, but you note that your lipstick has faded some, partially from pressing it to the rim of your glass and partially from pressing it to Daniel’s own mouth. You’d shared a few more dizzying kisses on the dance floor, and they make your rolled ankle worth it a thousand times over.

The ice bleeds condensation through the towel after only a few minutes, and you turn the package so the dry side is now pressed to your sore limb. You hear footsteps and you ensure that your dress is draped over your lap- sure it’s a sex cruise but no one wants to see you on display, and glance at the doorway to see who’d come in through the hall.

It’s Jake.

In the women’s bathroom.

“Hey!” You scoff, glaring at him while your fingers numb with cold, “Get out of here, you creep. This is the women’s bathroom.”

“I know. But you’re treating it like a hospital, so I’m gonna do the same. How’s your ankle?” He glances towards your foot braced on the counter, “Dalton can’t be that good of a dancer if he’s steppin’ on your feet the whole time.”

“First off, it’s Daniel. Second, I didn’t roll my ankle because he stepped on me, I rolled it because I’m drunk.”

A satisfied smile flits over Jake’s face, “So you do need babysitting, then?”

You neglect to respond verbally in favor of trying to melt his face off with your glare. It doesn’t work- in fact, his own expression only gets brighter.

“So, whaddya say we just drop right down on the tile and go for it?” He offers, gesturing towards the dingy bathroom floor, “Or- this counter might work,” He leans forwards to brace his biceps against it, shaking to no avail as the fixture stays tight.

“Oh, yes, that would be very comfortable,” You gripe.

“It could be.”

“Get out, Hangman.” You grimace, shifting the ice against your ankle, “I just wanna freeze this pain away and get back out there, and I think your presence is somehow making it hurt worse.”

“You really know how to make a man feel special,” He cocks his head slightly, leaning against the counter and glancing at your ankle, “Is it throbbing?”

“No. Just stings a bit.” You grumble, keeping your eyes off of his dress shirt and the way he’s rolled the sleeves up. It’s a pretty color, nice against his tan skin.

“Right.” He murmurs, voice similarly soft as the music leaks in muffled through the walls.

“You can go,” You nod towards the door, “I think Danica really likes you. Which is weird, because she’s heard you open your big fat mouth, and that’s usually what sends ‘em running.”

Jake rolls his eyes in an excellent impression of Penny’s daughter Amelia now that she’s in the throes of teenagedom.

“Anyways, you should go and drink with her. Have fun,” You offer, hesitantly kind to him, “You might as well get lucky even if you got stuck with a prudish roommate.”

“You’re not prudish,” He narrows his eyes at you, “You and Devon dry-humped in an elevator.”

“Daniel!”

“You didn’t even deny it,” Jake mock-gasps, “I bet the two of you were rubbin’ up on each other-”

“Get out.”

“-from decks 1-8. Hey, what’s that Ed Sheeran line that Rooster likes? Up and comin’ like I’m fuckin’ in an elevator?”

“Get out!”

Your ice pack doubles as an excellent projectile, but Jake was raised with older sisters, and is fantastic at dodging things flying towards his face.

He catches it with that infuriating grin he’s always shooting at you, and he tosses it into the trash while extending his other hand as an offering towards you.

“C’mon, Roger Clemens, let’s get back out there, shall we? Or are you too drunk to stand?”

“I can stand,” You insist, ignoring his hand and sliding off of the counter onto your feet, though one protests the weight with a sharp jolt of pain up your leg.

“Sure,” He scoffs, once more rolling his eyes skyward as he grabs hold of your bicep anyways, hoisting part of your weight onto him, “Let’s just get outta here before a gaggle of you ladies decide they’re all going to the bathroom together. Why do you do that, by the way?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe because men have a habit of wandering in despite the clear sign on the door that says Women’s.” You glare up at him, but you let him help you hobble out of the bathroom.

“I go where I’m needed. You needed a medic,” He shrugs, angling you towards one of the barstools so that you can rest your weight again, “And you needed someone to tell you to stay away from that David guy.”

You snap your eyes shut instead of correcting Jake yet again, instead focusing on why he’s being particularly dickish this evening.

“Why do you care so much? He’s a nice man, why are you so angry that we’re connecting?”

“Because I don’t think he’s a nice man,” Jake’s face scrunches in a frown packed with judgment, “He defiled you in an elevator and he’s leaving his roommate high and dry.”

“No he’s not,” You scoff, “They’re dancing right now!”

You jab a finger towards the pair now pressed together on the dance floor, ignoring the newly familiar tinge of jealousy in your chest when you see Daniel’s hands pressed to Danica’s waist just the same as they’d been to yours. It’s fine. You’re on a sex cruise; he signed a lot of contracts but monogamy wasn’t one of them.

“That’s worse,” Jake sneers, his hand sliding from your bicep to your back to steady you on the barstool, “He’s not loyal to either of you.”

“I don’t need his loyalty.”

“That’s not right. You should want loyalty. You don’t see me chatting up everyone’s roommates, do you?”

“You’re certainly friendly with Danica! And I don’t need your loyalty either, Jake!” You gush, voice raising, “Loyalty is for relationships! This is sex! Heated, messy, sloppy, dirty sex!”

Jake’s eyes dim of their usual fire, but you wouldn’t know it by the way his grin stays plastered in place. Then, slowly, bitterly, it fades, and he looks away towards a water ring on the surface of the bar, “Sex ain’t all there is in life. One day you’ll want loyalty.”

Your indignant laugh comes immediately, “Hangman, I can’t believe you of all people are lecturing me on loyalty. You’ve cycled through every tourist that makes the unfortunate mistake of wandering too close to the naval base. You’re not even loyal to your friends, why do you think we call you Hangman?”

The fire in his eyes is back, but it’s hot and not warm. Low blow. Maybe if you weren’t so drunk you wouldn’t have said it.

His jaw is tight when it opens for him to spit, “That’s ‘cause I ain’t got a girl I wanna be loyal to. And- and that Hangman shit is old, I don’t leave you hanging anymore. Not in the air, and not on the ground. Not after-”

Neither of you say it, but you both remember the sheer terror you’d felt when Bradley had gone down trying to save Maverick. How Jake had begged to be launched in a search and rescue, how they’d held him back until they were certain the two pilots were already on their way back. Like they didn’t want to risk one man to save two. Like Jake’s pleading wasn’t proof enough that they were more than just soldiers, more than just numbers, that they were people, too. You owe him that; he’d shown loyalty there, even if his pride had been hurt. Perhaps that proves his ego doesn’t win out, even if its what he likes to display.

“Fine.” You murmur, biting your cheek, “But- but just stay out of this, okay? If I wanna fool around with someone then I can, doesn’t matter if he won’t be here after this cruise is over.”

Jake’s face sours impossibly further, “Fine.”

He storms off through the crowd, and there’s a handprint-shaped cold spot on your back.

You scoff at his dramatic display, but before the bartender serves you the drink you order in a huff, Daniel comes weaving towards you through the crowd.

“He asked to swap,” Daniel informs you, “And he called you my ‘side chick’.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” You take a bitter sip of your drink, eyes widening at the strength, “Oh, god, if I can even aim.”

“Aim?” Daniel asks, slight trepidation clouding his features, “You gonna punch him?”

“Nah, I’ll shoot him down in a fighter jet.”

It draws a laugh out of Daniel, and you enjoy the rich, warm sound. It sounds a little how your drink tastes, but it’s not as sour.

It’s just as intoxicating, though, and you let it make you dizzy as he takes your hands and spins you on the barstool to the rhythm of the music, dancing with you as much as you’re capable of.

“I think she’s one drink away from falling off of that stool,” Danica muses, and Jake’s eyes snap to her own where her head reaches his shoulder.

“What? Y/N?”

“Yeah. You’ve been staring at her for the last six songs.”

“Sorry.” Jake grimaces, “I didn’t mean to zone out.”

“It’s fine.” She pats his chest and god, it’s pathetic and oozing with pity, “She was giving you a hard time earlier?”

“She’s always giving me a hard time. Can’t just let me help her, she’s gotta make a big stink of everything.”

“Mm-hm,” She nods along, and Hangman begins wondering if this is how people feel when they speak to him. Patronized and condescended.

“Well, I don’t think she’s capable of giving you a hard time anymore,” She narrows in on the way you’re slumped against Daniel’s shoulder, face stretched into a permanent lazy grin, “You wanna head out for the night and get her to bed before she passes out?”

“I dunno,” Jake shrugs, but his eyes never leave your slouched frame, “I’m having a nice time dancing with you, doll.”

“No you’re not.”

He turns to her, brows furrowed, “What?”

“No,” She repeats, but there’s mirth in her voice instead of reprimand, “You’re not. You’re worried about her. You two are friends?”

“Something like that.” Jake hums, but pointedly never denies her accusations, “She’s just- pardon me for speaking ill of your roommate, Danica, but I don’t want him messing around with her.”

“Mm. So you’re her father?”

“No,” Jake’s face wrinkles, and he tugs his arm an inch tighter around her waist, “We’re friends like you said. Sort of. The kind of friends that are always at each other’s throats, y’know the type.”

“Oh. So fuckbuddies.”

“No,” Jake laughs, and it eases out some of the worrisome creases in his face, puts new, happier ones in his skin instead, “See, I suggested that this cruise partnership was a work’a fate, that it’d give us a chance to blow off some of our steam, but she won’t have it. So now I’m just a glorified babysitter.”

“Ooh, so you’re not even in the friendzone,” Danica grimaces, a dry smile on her face, “Well, Jake, for what it’s worth, I think she’s lucky to have you as a roommate. And as whatever sort of friend you are to her.”

Jake nods tersely, head still turned to watch the way Daniel keeps you upright with an arm around your waist.

“She said-” Jake starts, then remembers he’s talking to a woman he barely knows, then remembers he’s got nothing to lose, “She said all this shit earlier about me not being loyal. Reliable, trustworthy, all that. And- I wasn’t, okay? I was a… not so great person. For longer than I’d like to admit. But,” His throat feels tight now, and it tenses in his jaw as Danica listens, “I’m not like that anymore. And I haven’t been for long enough for her to notice. If she’s lookin’, that is. Which- I guess she’s not. But I just thought maybe- I thought maybe she’d see it and we could be different. I still wanna tease her, of course. But at dinner she told me she thought I was just trying to ruin this for her. And I’m not,” His eyes gleam, not with tears but with something close and soulful as he blinks into Danica’s eyes, “I’m trying to make it better. I’m trying to make it the week of her life. The week of both of our lives. I’m just…” He hesitates, weighing the word on his tongue, “I’m afraid she won’t let me.”

Danica squeezes gently at his bicep through his dress shirt, and briefly mourns that the beefiest man on this ship is 100%, prime-time in love with you. She’d have loved to spend a night with him, but she kisses her chances goodbye as she smiles sweetly at Jake.

“You’re a good friend. You’re a very good friend, Jake. You’re trying to be very good at being much more than a friend. But she’s not seeing it, right?”

Jake nods, and she mimics the action, “So you need to show her. Show, not tell. Even if she’s resistant, even if she tries to gripe at you, it’s because she’s still seeing the man you used to be. And hey, maybe she won’t want the man you’ve become, even if you worked hard on becoming him. But there’s no reason to throw up your hands now, is there? Let her see the real you, then she’ll decide whether she’s willing to have you. Be patient. It’s all up to her in the end, so be this new-and-improved version of yourself, and she’ll take care of the rest. Okay? Remember, you’re a good friend.”

Jake nods at her reassuring words, steeling himself for a week of patience that he doesn’t typically possess.

Danica continues through the silence, “Aaand a good friend would make sure she gets back to her cabin before she blows chunks all over her hookup’s shoes, right?”

“Oh.” Jake’s eyes widen momentarily as his head jerks towards you - he’s only ever seen you upchuck twice before, both times after rowdy nights out with the group, but he is noticing a familiar pudge to your cheeks that can’t spell anything good. He’s tempted to let you ralph all over Daniel, teach you a lesson about mouthing off to people that are only trying to be nice- but that’s what pre-dagger squad Hangman would have thought. That’s old Hangman, the aviator who’d have sold his wingman out for fame and glory. Now he’s an entirely different Hangman, the one with a rope around his neck that tightens each time Daniel squeezes the pudge of your hip.

“Thanks, Danica,” He breaks away from her embrace with a kind, chaste smile, none of his usual toothy sleaze, “Hey, uh- enjoy your night with Daniel. Careful, though: I’ve heard he does terrible things in elevators.”

“I’ll keep it in mind!” She calls, her voice a melodious laugh as she waves goodbye at him, “Straight to bed, Jake! And leave water on the nightstand!”

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” He’s happy to let his southern drawl take over, nodding at her with a wink before spinning around to face you.

Daniel glances up at him, and his attempt at keeping a neutral expression over his face is valiant, but some of the wariness seeps through in the way that his arm tightens almost imperceptibly around your shoulders. Your eyes are desperately trying to stay open but they still lock onto Jake no problem, and you raise both of your eyebrows in what Jake is certain was an attempt to only raise one.

“Yes, Hangman?” You ask, your voice thick with booze, “You need somethin’?”

“You look like you’re about to need a trashcan,” Jake tentatively reaches for you, “C’mon, it’s gettin’ late. We should head back to the cabin for the night.”

Jake expects another jab about the nature of the cruise, but what he gets is drunken compliance, an easy reach of your hand for his own and a mumbled, ‘kay’.

“Hold on,” Daniel catches your waist, keeping you suspended between them, “You sure you can get her back okay?”

There’s a sharp tilt to his brow that makes Jake think Daniel’s not questioning whether he’s strong enough to carry you. The thought both offends and disgusts Jake, and he takes pleasure in swatting Daniel’s arm away from your hips to tug you into his embrace.

“She’s safe with me,” Jake scoffs, “But your roommate’s gettin’ lonely out there, Dallas.”

“It’s Dominic,” You gripe, the stench of liquor hitting Jake full-force now that your face is only inches away from his own, your forehead bumping his jaw.

Daniel hadn’t found Jake’s jab to be very funny, but a smile quirks the corners of his mouth at your slip-up, and he finally lets you go with a pat to the hip.

“You can call me any name you want, Y/N,” He offers, but his eyes pass darkly over Jake’s tense face, “So long as it’s not Jake.”

“No, no, he’s- he’s Jake.” You jab a sharp finger into Jake’s chest and he flinches back slightly, hissing at the contact.

“Good memory, darlin’.” Jake commends you, “Now let’s head for the elevators, m’kay?”

“I love elevators,” You sigh, no doubt remembering the feverish embrace you’d shared in one only hours prior, “Daniel, are you coming too?”

His face turns down in visible pain and he shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I’m gonna go find Danica - she’s probably looking for me.”

“She’s probably found someone else by now,” Jake laughs, haughty and biting, “I wouldn’t wait around for someone if they were hellbent on fooling around with someone else.”

“Really?” Daniel speaks like he’s snapping at Jake, gnashing and snarling like a fighting dog, “It seems like that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

The weight of your head slumped in the juncture between Jake’s neck and shoulder feels like shackles.

For a moment the two men stare at each other, and if you weren’t slowly losing consciousness between them, they might have given into their tension-fueled urge to scrap like feisty teens. But you release a soft, tender sigh against Jake’s chest, and he hikes his arm up under your thighs instead.

“‘Gonna lift you, darlin’.” He informs you, waiting only a second before he scoops you into a bridal hold. Your head is quick to loll backwards at a grotesque angle, and before Jake can balance you out, Daniel reaches over to assist.

“Here, honey,” The man croons, nestling your head against Jake’s bicep, and he watches in abject horror as Daniel leans down to press his lips to your forehead, “We’ll see each other tomorrow, okay? I’ll find you.”

Jake is desperate to know whether your responding smile is dreamy from the liquor or from the sight of his face, “Mm, okay, g’night.”

“Night,” Daniel murmurs fondly, and Jake is all too happy to drag you away from him.

“Slow down,” You plead when Jake is ten steps out of the bar and beelining for the elevators, “I’m gonna spew.”

“Not on me, please,” Jake jolts to a stop in the middle of the hallway, noting the rhythmic rocking motion of the boat and cringing, “Can I go for the elevator?”

“Slowly,” You mumble, and evidently you hadn’t heard his begging by the way you nestle your nose into his chest.

Upon hearing the ding of the elevator your eyes snap open, and you seem horrified despite having heard the word mere seconds before.

“Wait. No elevator.”

“What?”

“No elevator. Please, I can’t- ugh,” You groan, leaning away from Jake to hang your face over the ground beside him, “I can’t take the pressure of moving up in an enclosed space.”

“Well we’re one floor away from our room, how do you expect me to get you up there?” Jake gripes.

Approximately thirty seconds later he’s hauling you up a flight of agonizingly shallow stairs.

“This is bullshit.” Jake scoffs, “Should’ve had Daniel do this.”

“Dean,” You correct him, “His name is Dean.”

“No it’s not!” Jake laughs incredulously, rounding the corner to the second half of the staircase, “See, if you can’t even remember his name, you shouldn’t be foolin’ around with the guy.”

“What’s the name of the last woman you took home, Hangman?” You shoot him a glare with narrowed eyes where you’re still held in his arms, and he stops in his tracks to shoot you a menacing glance of his own while his chest heaves from exertion.

“Touche. That’s why I stopped foolin’ around with her, though. Couldn’t care enough to remember.”

“You never care,” You grumble groggily, and Jake tugs the both of you up the remaining four steps until he’s on your cabin’s level.

Your words are slashing relentlessly at a wound that’s been gaping for longer than Jake can remember. He thinks it's worse when you’re drunk- you’re shitfaced enough to forget your new boytoy’s name, but you still remember how shallow and vapid of a person Jake used to be.

“Right now, I care very deeply that you’ve got your room key with you. Or that you can reach mine; whichever works. You got it on you, darlin’?”

“This dress doesn’t have pockets,” You lament, “Where’s yours?”

“Uh.” Hangman glances over his shoulder, “Back pocket.”

Alcohol courses through your veins in the same quantity blood does when you reach with no inhibition for Hangman’s ass.

Jake’s eyes widen as he feels your fingers prodding and poking liberally around his dress pants, finally finding the pocket and slipping inside. He stays frozen solid at the door while you root around for his phone, finally pulling it out and squinting to focus on it as you bring it towards your face.

“Room key,” You pull out one of his debit cards out of the sleeve on the back, handing it to him expectantly.

“Uh- no, not exactly,” He strains to keep you suspended- he’s starting to wonder if you’ve got more muscle mass than he does, “The red one in the front, Y/N, that’s the room key. And I don’t have a hand to unlock the door with, so you’ll have to do that yourself.”

You toss his debit card onto the floor like it’s garbage.

“Hey! That’s- oh, just get the key.” He kicks it forwards, keeping it propped against the toe of his shoe while he waits for the door to open.

“Got it,” You drawl, and this time you’re right. You lean forwards without waiting for Hangman to move with you, and he nearly drops you where you’re aiming the keycard for the slot on the lock.

“Jesus, just- stick it in!” Hangman snaps, eyes on his debit card still discarded on the floor, “Let’s hope you never use a strap-on, you’ve got terrible aim.”

“I got it,” You grunt and a green light flashes while the lock clicks open. You manage to jiggle the door handle until the heavy slab of wood swings open, and Hangman is glad you’d remembered to leave a light on before you’d left.

He takes his final steps towards the bed and sets you down on the side he’d left open earlier. You’re too shitfaced to remember that you were vehemently opposed to sleeping in the bed earlier, and he’s glad for it when you sink willingly into the mattress, eyes fluttering closed, lashes resting over your cheeks.

“Hang on, ‘gonna get you some water. You- uh, change while I’m gone.”

He ambles off to the bathroom, and when he hears rustling outside the door he shuts himself inside to give you privacy. He decides to change into his own sleeping clothes, but it’s less of an outfit and more of a strip tease until he’s standing on the cool tile floor in nothing but boxers. He hadn’t planned on wearing much of anything for the entire week, and he definitely hadn’t packed sleeping clothes.

He fills a glass of water and knocks briefly on the inside of the bathroom door, “Hey Y/N, I’m coming out, m’kay?”

There’s no reply.

He assumes you’d shout at him if he tried barging in on you changing- in fact, you had only hours prior. He takes your silence as permission to exit the bathroom, but when he finds you curled up in bed, your dress is still on.

Evidently you hadn’t been changing.

“Y/N,” He groans, reaching out to prod tentatively at your shoulder, “No, don’t do this to me. Wake up, c’mon.”

Your eyes are firmly shut, glued there by booze.

“Shit.”

Jake sets the water on your square nightstand, ankles sturdy despite the rocking motions of the boat. He’s well used to being at sea, and it doesn’t make him unstable as he leans over to inspect your sleeping face. He can see your eyes flitting this way and that, barely covered by the thin skin of your lids, and he marvels at your drunken ability to knock out like you’ve been concussed mere minutes after hitting the mattress.

He lifts your arm and when he lets go it falls pathetically over your chest - there’s no waking you.

“Okay,” Jake grimaces, reaching for one of the straps of your dress, “For the record, I don’t wanna be doin’ this.”

“If you were awake you’d be yellin’ at me for breathing towards you,'' Jake rambles, a running dialogue making him feel slightly better about stripping you naked in your sleep, “But if you wake up tomorrow in this deathtrap you’re gonna be pissed, so I’m doin’ what I think is best. I swear it’s not a ploy to stick my hand down your shirt.”

And- speaking of sticking his hand down your shirt, he has to ruck the fabric of your dress up and over your breasts to slide it off of your head, “Aaand, there they are, and they’re out now, and that bra looks really uncomfortable, so I’m gonna-”

Jake slides his hands beneath your back, locating the series of clasps easily.

“Please don’t kill me,” Jake begs, blinking up at the ceiling as his neck aches with the way he cranes his head upwards, “I’m not lookin’, I swear.”

He peels your pushup bra off of your chest, and the fabric is warm where he tosses it in the vague direction of your suitcase. He wants nothing more than to linger on that, to press his hand to the pad that had just cupped your flesh and let the warmth travel south. But he is a Southern gentleman, and you’re sleeping, and the bra remains discarded in the hallway.

“Right. Now the pajamas,” He continues his stream of consciousness if only to reassure himself that he’s not a creeping perv in the darkness of your cabin, “For both of our sakes, Y/N, I hope you packed better nightwear than I did.”

Upon discovering nothing but lacy chemises neatly folded among your other clothes, he gnaws at the inside of his cheek.

“Okay. Don’t go gripin’ at me in the morning for sticking you in one of these things. It was your poor packing skills that led us here.”

He plunges a hand into your suitcase and comes out with a red lacy contraption. He feels, to his own incredulity, a blush rising over his cheeks, as if he’s a teenage boy thumbing through a porn mag and not a decorated naval aviator. He drops the red thing, and reaches for something less sinful. What he finds next is a softer pink garment, silky and longer than the red- though he’s sure it’ll only barely cover your ass. All he wants is to cover his own, though, to make sure he won’t be in trouble for cramming you into a sexy getup while you’re passed out drunk, and the pink is looking better than the red for that purpose. Although- Jake has to admit, the pink is sexy in its own right. It’s soft, and smooth, and delicate, and he’s getting uncomfortable down south so he really needs to stop staring at it.

“Pink it is, darlin’.” He hums, “Hope you don’t mind. Maybe when we dock you can find something a little more conservative. Up you go,” He slides a hand beneath your back, his eyes trained dutifully on your forehead and absolutely nothing down below, “Hope y’don’t mind your hair getting a little messy. I think you scruffed it up when you hit that banister earlier, anyways.” Technically, that had been equal parts yours and his fault. He’d been carrying you, so he could have been a little more careful about swinging you this way and that as he’d navigated the ships’ halls, but you kept reaching out to touch things, and you’d collided square with a metal post in your curiosity. He bunches up the chemise and slides it over your head, careful not to scrape the lace over what little of your lip gloss remains. He doesn’t want to add staining your clothes to the list you’ve surely got of all his transgressions against you.

It’s rather hard to dress you blindly, and his hand does accidentally dip between your tits as he tries settling the material against your skin. He jerks it away like it’s burnt, hissing as his eyes widen where they’re staring at a particularly boring ceiling light.

“Accident. It was an accident. I swear.” He vows, hoping against hope that you’ll stay sleeping as he clumsily dresses you.

“Christ,” He yanks the material down your thighs, settling the chemise into place, “‘Knew how easy it was to take one off’a woman, never knew how hard it was to put it on. I think,” He muses, blinking long and hard before peering down carefully at you. You’re fully clothed, “That’s good. Okay. Done.”

The silence in the room is deafening now that he doesn’t need to keep up a stream of dialogue to soothe his fraying nerves, and his footsteps seem to pound against the cabin floor as he rounds the bed to his own side. There’s plenty of room, but he still feels like he’s sinning - crawling into bed beside your sleep-limp, pink satin-swathed form in nothing but his boxers.

With one click of the remote beside his bed the lights turn off, and there’s no sound besides the ship’s motor to distract him from the gentle inhales and exhales of your peaceful breathing. He licks his lips, settles into his typical sleeping position, sniffles briefly, fiddles with his hands, lifts a leg up to stretch his muscles, readjusts his neck on the pillow, clears his throat, wriggles his toes beneath the blankets, itches his nose, and comes to terms with the fact that he’s unable to sleep. Something’s not right, and he thinks little before he turns to his opposite side to see if sleep will meet him there.

It doesn’t, but your face does.

His neck stiffens and he nearly rears his head back when his nose brushes against your own, your warm breath fanning over his face. He snaps his eyes shut and breathes deeply himself, lashes fluttering when he deems himself brave enough to open his eyes again.

You’re there, looking like sleep was made for you the way it lulls your face into peace and erases the wrinkles Jake puts around your nose and mouth. There’s no longer the prominent frown lines that you’re always sporting around him, and your lips are blessedly relaxed, almost pouting with the way your cheek is squished into the pillow instead of disapprovingly downturned in his direction.

The silence suffocates him, rushing into Jake’s ears and clogging them until tv static fills his brain. The only words he can form, the only thing he’s capable of doing is murmuring a gentle, “Goodnight, Y/N,” In a voice far softer than he’s ever aimed towards you before.

Then he turns, rolling back onto a shoulder that aches from carrying your phantom weight, and shuts his eyes for the night.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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choslut · 22 days

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˖ ࣪ ، ◞ せ ⌇ SHARING IS CARING. featuring s. kong + t. fushiguro.

↻ shiu gives toji an offer too good to refuse.

tags : voyeurism, phone sex, male masturbation, dirty talk, cowgirl, mentions of threesomes, slut shaming // wc. 0.7k

author’s note : there isn’t enough shiu content out there ‘m afraid, and it HURTS MEE considering i love him from infinity 2 infinity. toji and shiu are the BADDEST 2man out there and i for one would not mind gettin backshots from both ;p as always, notes n reblogs are much appreciated !! (and thank you for 300 followers!)

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT.

for TOJI FUSHIGURO, finding work is hard. he can’t exactly just stroll into the next place that’s hiring and hand in his cv like every other person, because unlike every other person, toji’s cv would be filled to the brim with the names of all the people he’s killed.

toji fushiguro is an assassin, and it would be a lie to say that sometimes he doesn’t hate his fucking job.

“you got anything for me?” he sits on his beaten up couch, chopsticks in hand and horse races on the television as he slurps up the last of his cup ramen. “c’mon, boss. there’s gotta be somethin’. everybody wants somebody dead these days.”

“i’m afraid not.” his boss, or more, his contractor, SHIU sighs on the other end of the line. “i told you i’d call if i had anything. work’s tight for me too.”

the line goes silent, and although shiu hasn’t quite hung up yet, toji throws back his head and groans. how hard is it for an assassin to find somebody to kill these days? the whole gig isn’t particularly helpful, either. he gets paid in lump amounts with no idea when his next job is coming through, and at times like this, toji does in fact consider paying a visit to the job centre.

just as he’s about to thank shiu for jack shit and hang up, a muffled whine on the other line drags him out of his thoughts.

“you got your girl there with you, boss?”

“i’m at home. ‘course she’s here with me.”

toji smiles. “hi there, lil’lady. whatcha up to?”

on the other end of the line, you bury your head into shiu’s neck, face flushed as you halt all movement on his lap. “nothin’.”

“don’t sound like nothin’ to me, doll. he treatin’ you good?” toji hears shiu laugh quietly through the phone.

“she doesn’t answer to you, idiot. and for the record, i’m givin’ her everything she needs and more, isn’t that right, baby?” he grinds his hips upwards and you gasp at the feeling of his tip nudging your sweet spot. “tell him how good ‘m treatin’ you.”

by this point, toji’s muted the races and put down his chopsticks, switching his phone to loudspeaker and balancing it on his shoulder so he can hear every sweet sound you’re making. his cock is out of his sweats in no time, precum staining his shirt as his tip presses up onto his abdomen.

“ ‘s g-good,” you hiccup, tears in your eyes as shiu rests a hand on your ass and starts to move you back and forth on his length. “so good, ‘n so big.”

“mm, bet that’s right, angel,” toji drawls, hand occupied with fisting his cock in time with the faint shlicking sounds echoing through his speaker. “how ‘bout next time, you get two cocks instead of one?”

“don’t get too ahead of yourself, zenin. she’s my bitch.” shiu’s tone is sour as he bucks his hips upwards, causing you to whine out.

“yeah, but I bet that slut would take it if we gave it to her.” toji grins, hand quickening when he hears you groan on the other end of the line. “sounds like she’d like that. ‘n i already told you, it’s fushiguro.”

“same difference.” it sounds like shiu’s struggling to maintain an even tone when he feels you clench down on him hard, teeth gritting as your nails dig into the fabric of his suit. “but i agree, it seems like she likes your idea. next time, instead of paying you a lump sum, i’ll let you fuck her instead.”

toji smiles, head tilting backwards as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. “nuh-uh, i still want my money.” his thumb flicks over the slit on his tip, swiping up the precum and spreading it along his pulsing length. “but i’ll take you up on your offer. cant want to try out her sweet cunt.”

on the other end of the line, you squeal, walls clamping down on shiu as you reach your climax. a loud slap resounds through toji’s phone and he grunts, ropes of white painting his knuckles as he finishes in his palm.

“she came too early. only started fuckin’ her since the time you called.”

“sounds like you haven’t been treating your bitch too well, boss, otherwise she wouldn't have been so desperate.” toji smiles, looking at the mess on his hands and shirt. “call me when you have another job. can’t wait to get my sweet reward.”

and with that, he hangs up.

PREVIOUS : DRESS UP DOLL ft. satoru gojo NEXT : FWB ft. aki hayakawa

liked that? check out the WE’RE SO BACK main masterlist.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #shiu kong #shiu kong x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro smut #shiu kong smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

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

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad. You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…”

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?”

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'.

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

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jen-with-a-pen · 15 days

Text

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on.

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress.

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa.

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch.

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone.

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him.

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him.

“Logan!”

And then he turned around.

And now they're here.

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman.

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch.

His breath catches in his chest.

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety.

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep.

“...Wade, please.”

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep.

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again?

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not.

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.”

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic.

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–”

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small. Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now.

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

154 notes · View notes

jointherebellion215 · 6 months

Text

Worth

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)

Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!

A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.

You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone.

You, of course, said yes.

Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.

“Good evening, Major!”

You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.

“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”

“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.

“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.

“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.

“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”

“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.

You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.

“What? I was just trying to..!”

The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Your friends seem nice.”

Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes.

“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.”

You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond.

“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word.

You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.

“You look beautiful.”

Another pause. “What?”

“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”

Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.

John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his.

You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.

✨

“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”

The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.

He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.

Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.

You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.

Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”

You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?”

Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.”

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.

“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.

“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”

You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food.

By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption.

Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.

“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!”

You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing.

Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”

You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.

The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.

Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.

John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.

“No, no problem at all.”

Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”

You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind.

“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”

You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.

“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”

You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap.

“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”

The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.

“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”

The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.

“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”

Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.

Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.

As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,

“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”

You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.

“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.

“Sorry if I ruined the night.”

You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”

“Yep.”

“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”

His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”

“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”

“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.

“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”

Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.

“My lady.”

You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves.

He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends.

The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.

“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.”

You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly.

“Really?”

You continue to sway.

“Yeah.”

You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”

He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.

“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.”

The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.

“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”

You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.

He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.

“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you.

“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”

You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.

“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.”

He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.

So, you close your eyes and take the leap.

Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.

A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.

After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted.

Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.

Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.

“You are most definitely worth it.”

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wwinterwitch · 9 months

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buy me presents — joel miller

summary: you and your ex situationship reunite at a christmas party

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.1K

tags: age gap (mid 40s and mid 20s), no outbreak, you fell hard and didn't know he fell harder bc he's an idiot!, miscommunication, angst, awkward reunion, everything gets fixed at the end tho don't worry, tommy is featured

note: i've been listening to fruitcake non-stop and i had this little idea that turned into an entire fic. it was kinda shitty at first but i decided to give it a try anyway

reblog or comment if you enjoy please!

all masterlists | pedro pascal masterlist

You always thought that going after older guys meant having absolutely no problems when it came to maturity and commitment. Guys your age are so good at playing games, keeping you guessing, too afraid to make it official.

So, evidently, when you met Joel at his workshop you were over the moon. He was charming, incredibly handsome and single. You still remember his attractive smile and the way he'd lean way too close to you, offering to fix the piece of furniture that you showed up with that day in exchange for a nice dinner and your phone number.

Everything looked good in the beginning. He was a true gentleman, so sincere and attentive, and you were foolish enough to believe he actually considered you special enough to pursue a relationship with you.

In your defense, he really tricked you. Showing you pictures of his daughter, taking you out on countless dates, interested to know as much of you as possible, texting non-stop...it was like a dream come true. After many terrible relationships with pathetic and insecure little boys, you found a wonderful man willing to give you exactly what you were craving.

But then everything changed after seeing each other for almost four months. Because he'd always get super defensive whenever you asked him why you always had to meet at your apartment and never at his house. Or why he refused to introduce you to his family. Or why he kept introducing you to people that happened to see the two of you together as 'a friend of his'.

Tired of this uncertainty, you decided to confront him. It was a very messy conversation. You asked what you were, he said he didn't know. You asked if he had any intentions of asking you to officially be his girlfriend, he said he probably wouldn't. You cried, he didn't know what to do about it.

You kicked him out of your apartment that day and that was the last time you ever heard of him. No texts, no calls, no one waiting outside your apartment or showing up at your work with a well-deserved apology.

Were you just stupid for thinking he was into you the way you were into him? Did you get your hopes too high a little too soon? Was there something wrong with you? Were you overreacting?

Yes, no, whatever– you wanted someone to go all the way with you, thought it was Joel, and he turned out to be like every other guy you've met. It sucks, but you gotta move on. You've dealt with a lot of shitty men to know better than to suffer for one.

The heartbreak Joel caused soon turned into a mixture of disappointment and annoyance before it turned into nothing but an unpleasant memory. Soon enough, Joel Miller was out of your mind, and you were more than ready to jump right in into the dating world again. Maybe it was pathetic, but you still refused to lose hope that the right guy will show up in your life and change things for the better.

You kept your options open for a while, not wanting to immediately rush into something like you did with Joel. If any of these guys you're seeing want to keep you to themselves, they'll have to put that extra effort. You're just tired of always chasing after them.

A whole month went by and you never heard from Joel again, which was completely fine by you. He doesn't even cross your mind at this point. He's probably spending all his hours at his workshop, keeping his nights free for his no-commitment dates. And probably getting ready for the holiday season too.

Christmas has always been your favorite holiday. There's something about it that cheers you up like no other festivity. Maybe it's the decor, the food, the fact that it's everywhere you look...it's always been a magical time.

You also love the parties and gatherings around this time of year, so you immediately agreed to be someone's date to one of them. You met this guy a few weeks ago– three years older than you, tall, dreamy eyes and great in bed. There was no reason as to why the two of you couldn't have a good time at this little party...or so you thought.

He casually mentions who's hosting on the way there. A friend from work, he said while offering you a hand to help you out of his car. His good ol' buddy Tommy Miller.

Your smile practically drops at the mention of that name, immediately going back to that date at the bowling alley. Joel bought a large portion of nachos to share after you completely beat his ass at bowling (he totally let you win, he said), remembering the way he talked about a brother named Tommy.

But...surely this is all a coincidence. The universe couldn't possibly hate you that much, right? At one point you almost thought you were crazy for even thinking of the possibility of this friend being the brother. There has to be a million Tommy Millers out there. It's such a common name!

What are the odds of this actually happening? That you're really going to Joel Miller's brother's Christmas party? And even if you are, that doesn't guarantee that you'll see Joel there.

And why should you care? You haven't spoken in so long, he probably doesn't even think about you when he hears something that could potentially relate to you. He doesn't think about the chances of reuniting with you for longer than a second. He surely doesn't think about you at all! You should give him the same treatment.

Holding onto your date's arm, you walked inside the impeccably decorated apartment. Red and white everywhere you look, with a large table filled with various snacks, a lit fireplace that gives the room a much cozier look, and a Christmas tree standing tall on one of the corners of the living room.

Tommy Miller was at the entrance greeting the two of you and enthusiastically introducing himself to you. Nerves were starting to overtake you because shit, there's definitely some resemblance.

Still, you tried to ignore your racing mind, wanting to have a good time with this great guy who's glad to keep you close to him, introducing you to all his friends in a manner someone should introduce their date. You feel important next to him, like he's really trying to show you off. Something Joel failed to do.

Eventually, you were able to relax when you got to meet everyone at the apartment and realized Joel wasn't there. With a beer in hand and a polite smile on your face, you joined a conversation by the fireplace, talking amicably and genuinely thinking the night was safe.

That is, until you heard the doorbell.

You watched Tommy walking towards the door, immediately opening his arms wide to receive whoever just arrived. When the stranger leans forward for the hug Tommy was offering, your smile completely fades when you notice it was none other than Joel.

He walks inside the apartment and leaves his jacket hanging by the door, taking a quick look around. You immediately turn around, not wanting him to recognize you– yes, it was stupid because he'll sooner or later notice your presence, but maybe you can avoid the awkward encounter for a few more seconds.

It takes everything in you not to turn around again, putting your hand on your date's back as you lean closer to him, trying to seek any kind of comfort you possibly could. He immediately wraps his arm around your waist, inevitably making you smile. God, this guy really knows how to treat you exactly the way you want it.

Unfortunately, Joel reaches the group of people you were talking to. He starts greeting everyone until his eyes land on you, standing there completely speechless for a few seconds before a smile appears on his face.

He leans forward for a quick kiss on the cheek as a way to greet you, and you barely move away from your date to return the greeting, moving back immediately to refugee on the guy's side.

"You two know each other?" your date asks. You almost wanted to kill him.

You stay quiet, deciding to leave Joel the responsibility to answer. It's genuinely intriguing to see what he has to say.

"Uh, yeah..." he starts, clearing his throat. "I think...you took a coffee table to my workshop for a repair?"

Wow. Glad to see things haven't changed in the slightest! Of course you two just met each other for a little repair. Of-fucking-course! It's not like he woke up completely naked next to you on your bed more times than you'd like to admit out loud.

"Yes. Exactly," you faked a smile, agreeing with his statement.

That was pretty much the only thing you said to each other. After greeting everyone he quickly joined a completely different group to talk to (because it's obvious he couldn't handle being close to you for much longer). You actually appreciated that, making the task of ignoring him until you left that apartment just that much easier.

Things went downhill when your date had to go to the bathroom and you decided to get another beer from the kitchen. You didn't notice Joel following you, and by the time you did realize, he was standing in front of the exit, blocking it entirely.

"Oh, hey, workshop guy!" you greeted with fake enthusiasm, sarcasm dripping from your words.

You hear Joel sigh, and as if that didn't piss you off enough he decided to open his mouth. "Yeah, I figured you'd get upset."

"Then why did you say it?"

He raised a brow. "What, you wanted me to tell everyone– your date included, that we were seeing each other like a month ago?"

The kitchen was completely silent after that. Perhaps he had a point there, but it was impossible to deny you were still hurt by the way things ended and how poorly he treated you, so that last thing you'd ever do is admit he's right.

"I thought perhaps now that it's done, you wouldn't care about keeping it a secret anymore," you shrugged defensively.

He smiles softly, seeing right through you. "Perhaps I've just never been the type to kiss and tell."

Again, you didn't have much to say, so you just scoffed. "Whatever."

Much to your irritation, he laughs. A low, deep chuckle escapes him before he's looking at you up and down. "You look good."

"I know."

Another chuckle. "Of course you do," he sighs, the smirk on his face fading. "You always look fucking incredible."

You stand there like a complete fool, taken by surprise when you hear him say that. It sounds so...defeated? Is that even a thing? As you try to come up with an answer to that, you just look back at him with a lost expression.

"Is there a point to this conversation?" you eventually ask.

Now it's him who's looking back at you in complete silence. Unfortunately, you know him enough to know there's something in his mind and he's not telling you anything about it. He's hesitating, doubting, the engines in his brain moving faster than ever.

For a moment, you thought he'd say whatever random bullshit he can come up with in that very moment and be done with it. And you'd roll your eyes because you know that's not what he wanted to say, right before moving him away from the door so you can go back to the party.

But in a surprising turn of events, he doesn't do that. He looks at you with nothing but honesty, and you even catch the smallest glimpses of hope when he speaks. "Yeah," he answers your question. "I've missed you like crazy."

If you were speechless before, it's almost impossible to even remember how words work right now. Never in a million years would you've expected Joel Miller to confess he misses you. Not when it was you who was always trying to arrange dates. Not when it was always you the one remaining him you really liked him and him barely saying anything back.

Maybe he just needed a wake up call? Had to live that 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone' type of situation to realize how he feels?

Your heart beats faster as you process his words. He's missed you like crazy.

Still, despite feeling so fuzzy inside, you show none of it on the outside. "No," you promptly warn him. "No, no. We're not doing that."

"What?"

"That, Joel!" you exclaim, frustrated. "You can't break my heart and then say shit like that when we happen to meet by accident."

"Is it an accident?" he asks shortly after.

You chuckle sarcastically. "Oh, so is this some Christmas miracle? The festive season brought us together because of some nonsensical fate-thingy that's written up there in the stars?"

Joel looks slightly embarrassed, letting out another frustrated sigh. Before he can answer, you hear footsteps down the hall that leads to the kitchen so the two of you stay completely silent and turn around to see who it was.

"Hey...oh," Tommy says, his initial smile fading when he notices the tension between the two of you. He quickly raises both of his hands in the air as he walks towards the fridge to grab two beers. "Don't mind me, I just wanted to grab these," he quickly explains.

When he turns back around, he immediately focuses on his brother. At first he looked very confused, like silently trying to ask him what the hell is going on, a small smirk appearing on his face just seconds later. Without another word, he quickly makes his way outside the kitchen to give the two of you much needed privacy. You could feel your cheeks heating up after witnessing that little exchange.

Focusing back on you, Joel decides to continue the conversation. "Okay, if you put it like that of course it sounds silly..." he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "But, I don't know, I’d like to think something out there wanted us to meet again so I could make it right."

"No," you repeat. "You had a chance to make it right as soon as I kicked you out of my apartment. There was a chance to pick up your phone and give me a call or send me a text or...anything, Joel– fucking anything!"

There's a brief pause, and you're so glad to see he has nothing to say because boy, oh boy did you have things to say.

"You don't get to come back a month later and claim to miss me when you didn't even try to get me back. And you were a real piece of shit with me, by the way. You really made me think we had something special, just to treat me like it was nothing," you continue, visibly upset by the incredibly uncomfortable and difficult situation he's putting you in. "You made me feel...you made me feel like I was some stupid little girl you only wanted to get into bed with."

He looks absolutely horrified by your last statement, taking a few steps forward until he's standing right in front of you. The proximity makes it so much worse, forcing you to look down at your shoes. He gently grabs your chin to force you to look into his eyes, and for some reason you allow it. Maybe you were vulnerable, maybe you wanted to feel his touch. Maybe both.

"I promise you, that was not my intention at all," he immediately assures you in the most serious voice you've ever heard coming from him. "It was never just that. I was really falling for you."

You frowned, feeling so incredibly confused and frustrated. "Then why did you never show it?"

"Because I was dumb and I was scared," he reveals simply. It surprises you how honest he's being, how you don't have to ask more to get information out of him. "You were the first woman I started developing actual feelings for after my divorce, and at the time I thought things were moving too fast between us and...I didn't know how to handle it."

Joel can tell you're still not having none of it, so he decides to continue. "I really wanted to be with you officially, but I guess my insecurities got the best of me. I'm just an old man and you're gorgeous, and young, and...Jesus Christ, darling, you're the most amazing person I've ever met," he sighs again, hoping you'd understand what was going on in his head when he made the terrible decision of letting you go. "I didn't want to fuck it up or get my heart broken again...but I totally did fuck it up, and the worse thing is that I broke your heart in the process. I'll forever be sorry for that."

You were speechless yet again, and Joel didn't know how to take that. Are you going to say something nice or are you going to yell at him and tell him to go fuck himself? The uncertainty was eating him alive at this point.

Eventually, you speak up. "You did fuck it up," you agree. "Like, big time."

He sighs yet again, nodding. "Yes, I did. And I know I don't deserve it, but I'd like to have a second chance to prove to you just how much I care about you," he continues, not giving up this time. He couldn't live with himself if he managed to lose you twice. "To give you all that you deserve, to be there for you, to show the world how happy I am that you're my girl...I'd make it right."

Letting go of your chin, he moves his hand to the side of your face, anxiously waiting for an answer. The fact that you're not pushing him away is already a good sign, because he knows you're capable of throwing a beer bottle at him for saying what he just said.

You considered your options. There's a guy outside in the living room waiting for you. There's a bunch of other guys on your phone that'd run to your doorstep if you give them the chance. All of them have behaved better than Joel...but you can't fool yourself.

Even if you combine all of them, there's no way that everything you've shared with them can come close to what you experienced with Joel. You've never liked anyone so much before, and holy shit how badly you've missed him.

If he thought your proximity was a good sign, the soft smile that appears on your face makes him relax considerably, almost wanting to pull you in for a hug and start thanking you already.

"I guess you can take me out to dinner or something to prove you're sorry," you eventually reply, making him grin from ear to ear. You notice he's leaning even closer with the intention of kissing you, but you quickly stop him. "Don't even think about it. You'll have to earn the right to do that."

Joel silently agrees to that arrangement, immediately taking a step back from you, the smile on his face never disappearing. He doesn't care that you're not kissing him right now, not when you agreed to give him a chance. That's more than enough for him. The best Christmas gift he could've ever received.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller angst #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #Spotify

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ghost-t-cryptids · 6 months

Text

Right, people have worded it WAY better than me but...my good bitches...ya gotta reblog art.

You've got to interact with artists and writers and all that in order to support us, in order to keep fandoms alive AND its gotta be more than just...likes and kudos.

Maybe leave a comment saying how much you enjoyed a part of a fic, or leave tags in reblogs of art! It doesn't have to be massively coherent or descriptive (some of the best tags I've gotten are along the lines of 'I want to eat this' lmao)

But you need to interact with us. A majority of us are broke, absolutely begging for commissions just to help us survive and a free way to help is by sharing our work.

Not to sound old but...I was getting FAR more reblogs of my art back in 2018 than I am now, far more interaction, and it sucks that times are changing bc we're so used to 'consuming content' and never speaking of it again after like...a week.

And you may like and reblog this post, but these words have to be drilled into your brain, yeah? Don't just reblog or like this and move on and pretend your supporting artists by clicking the like button.

We need reblogs, comments, and nice tags to keep us going.

Sure, you can sit there and say 'oh well I thought you did art bc you enjoy the process' and yeah, that's true, but more importantly...I make art to connect with people.

#me talking

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roomsofangel · 6 months

Text

LOVER, PLEASE STAY . . PROLOGUE written by roomsofangel

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 464

you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

you couldn’t remember how it started, nor could you tell someone even the basics of how you and wooyoung came to be what you guys were now. you see, you knew wooyoung since you two were running around playing tag on the playground — since you two were debating over if action figures were more superior than barbies before a scream was heard due to one of you biting the other

you and wooyoung were two peas in a pod, people joking at how you two could be conjoined twins due to the fact no one saw either of you without the other. you were at the store? wooyoung was somewhere up and down the aisles. wooyoung was at the skate park? you were on the bleachers watching him and making sure to get every angle with his camera

but now? you weren’t even sure what to make of your guys’ bond now that you two were out of college and ventured off attempting to find yourselves and manage adulthood.

april third was when you noticed more of what wooyoung has been sneaking around under your nose, twelve in the morning. you noticed the eye bags, his red glossy eyes that made you wonder what exactly he was doing when he came back to your guys’ shared apartment — he stumbled, rubbing his head while soft annoyed groans left his mouth, each step more dragged out than the last before he collapsed onto the couch, instantly falling asleep.

without a word, you grabbed one of his star-wars blankets that seonghwa gave as a housewarming present to drape over him, watching his nose scrunch and another little sound leave his mouth before he unconsciously pulled the blanket up to cover himself more.

the next morning, you could see he was still on the couch, same position and part of you wanted to find a random stick and poke him with it. “wooyoung?” you called out, not loud enough to startle him but loud enough to hopefully have his body shake a little to start waking up but to no avail. “wooyoung.” you said a little louder, more as a statement now than a question only to get a grumble in response

“wooyoung, come on, gotta get up.” you sighed, walking over to him and noticing how his eyes were already open, they were just looking down at his hands that you noticed were a bit red and scratched up, making you frown. “wooyoung..”

“don’t.” his voice raspy due to just waking up, and he pinched his brows together, avoiding your gaze. “i’m okay, just fell.” he shrugged

just fell? you wanted to protest, you didn’t believe him and he must have forgotten you knew him better than anyone..

at least you thought you did

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purgemarchlockdown · 1 month

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I'm glad people are talking about how genuinely callout-y and tense the recent environment's been getting on here. But I think if we wanna make the place less uh- aggressive and unwelcoming to everyone there's gotta be something more positive to funnel energy towards.

So! Write anything you find interesting about Milgram in the Main Text or Tags of this post! I'll try to reblog all of them and maybe even add something to them if I feel like I have anything interesting to add! Literally anything will do. Even just saying you like a character.

My only rule really is to just not attack any group or opinion in it! You might have a lot of Good Reasons for believing what you believe and why x group is missing the point but this isn't the time and place for it. You don't have to fight a battle that doesn't exist. I just want to hear your thoughts!

#milgram #boy I hope people respond to this I wanna read analysis

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ddejavvu · 1 year

Note

Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants

Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)

Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.

Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised

WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.

"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.

"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."

"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."

"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."

"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."

"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"

"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.

It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.

"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.

"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"

"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."

"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."

Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.

"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.

He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.

"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."

"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."

"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.

"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"

"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"

"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"

"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."

"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."

You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.

"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.

"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."

Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.

Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."

"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.

"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.

"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.

"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."

"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.

You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"

"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.

"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"

"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.

Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."

Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.

His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.

"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."

"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."

"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."

"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.

"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"

"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.

You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."

"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.

"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."

"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."

He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.

Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.

"Ani-"

"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.

"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.

"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.

"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.

"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.

"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"

"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."

"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.

"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."

"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.

When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.

"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.

"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.

It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.

Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.

"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.

"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."

You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.

You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.

"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.

"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."

"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.

"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"

It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.

But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"

The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.

"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.

"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.

"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.

Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.

It works.

The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.

"Anakin!" You scream.

Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.

"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.

All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.

"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.

"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"

"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"

"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"

"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."

"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"

All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.

"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.

The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.

"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.

"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.

"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."

You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."

"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.

"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."

"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.

"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.

Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.

"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."

"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"

"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"

"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."

"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.

"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."

Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.

"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"

"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.

"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."

"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."

"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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awritingotaku · 2 years

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The Unspoken Rules of Tumblr

As explained by someone who joined around 2019

Tumblr for all intents and purposes is not like other social media websites. Think the “I’m not like other girls” but they are not like other girls and it’s for the better. Having lurked around different social media platforms for years, I picked up on the spoken and unspoken rules that make this website more bearable than other ones. So here’s a list that will be important to new users.

Block but do not engage. Yes the rule that is understood by much of the user base and I think actually is one of the reasons why fandoms here are actually not that bad. If you remember any rule off this list, make it be this one. Why is this rule so important? Because flame wars often don’t change minds and it just creates a toxic environment. If you find someone that infuriates you, don’t attack them and just block. If they are really bad and pose a threat to people, collect evidence and do a warning post explaining why that person is dangerous but still block them.

Everyone here is a clown, even the famous ones. There is no superiority here. The number of followers you have often connects to how much of a clown you are. Now being a clown here isn’t always bad, many famous ones here make people’s days with their posts, but it’s not a contest here. In fact, fame is often considered a curse and once you have engrained yourself into the collective unconscious, you will mainly be remembered for why you became a famous tumblr clown.

Please hide your likes and follows. Don’t know how that started but it’s a thing here.

Likes do nothing, instead reblog. If it doesn’t fit the theme of your main blog, make a side blog for your reblogs.

Use tags. Tags are key here for both as a blog runner and blog reader. It allows you to quickly sort through things and see what you posted.

You don’t have to censor words like die or sex. We instead have trigger warnings tags that people can specifically block out if they don’t want to see content with stuff like that.

You want to been seen and see cool things, the algorithm is not going to do that for you. Instead you have to actively seek out what tags and blogs to follow to get the content you want. It’s more human and unlike most social media you gotta interact with people. If your feed is negative, it’s likely due to who you follow.

Don’t have a blank blog, the obvious bot usernames, or default profile pics. We are so used to fighting bots that we will auto block because of these. Some bots if you just try to click their username will get you viruses so we are careful.

Never forget the tumblr roots. Superwholock while often thought long dead still has a lasting memory here. It’s the websites heritage. Also add Hannibal and My Little Pony.

There is no cringe here for the most part. X Reader writers are just as valid as the artists here. We are all clowns because we are on this site.

Be kind and remember, people are just as human as you.

This has been you guide to Tumblr! I hope you enjoy this hellsite as much as I have.

#please reblog #tumblr #tumblr guide #tumblr tips #new user guide #tumblr rules #otaku speaks #be kind #do your part

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Someone New 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’ve had a crush on your best friend for years, but you’re slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: I got like insanely sick suddenly and I still feel off.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Sam, that paradise punch was a bad idea,” you groan as you struggle to get your bag out of the trunk of the taxi.

“Whatever,” Sam slurs as he comes around, “I tipped the driver extra. Bud, you think you can get this out for the lady?”

The driver is all to helpful as he comes around you take the handle from you and swiftly plants the bag on its wheels. It’s everything you have that isn’t bundled up into storage or sacrificed to the dumpster. You thank the man and swallow a belch.

“Have a safe trip, miss,” the driver nods and turns to slap Sam’s arm, “and you, sir.”

Sam salutes the man and pushes away from the cab, your carry-on slung from his shoulder. The two of you clumsily lift the bag over the curb. You look up at the airport as the roar of jet engines cuts through the dusky air.

“I feel like I’m drunker,” Sam snickers.

“Uh huh, me too,” you murmur. Two hours on his couch was barely enough. If anything, it’s just set your vision askew. “They’re not gonna let me board if – hiccup—I'm blasted.”

“Don’t worry, we can get water,” he blathers and yanks your bag onto its wheels, “off to the land of vikings! Skol!”

“Skol?” You follow him in a clamour.

“It’s what they say, isn’t it?” He chuckles, “I saw it on a show or whatever.”

“I... yeah, usually while they drink, not stumbling drunk,” you rebuff.

“Sound pretty sober to me with all that whining,” he rebukes.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes and follow him through the automatic doors.

He veers off and you follow him in confusion, glancing back at the check-in counter. He stops before a bright vending machine and feels around in his pocket. He taps his card and focuses intently on pressing the button.

“Waterrrrr,” he drones and leans on the machine to reach through the slot.

He hands it over and you unscrew the cap. You chug half the bottle and let out an obnoxious belch. You cover your mouth in embarrassment and offer him the rest. He finishes it off and you linger by the machine as you let the cool flow settle in.

“Feel any better?” He asks.

“A little. I’ll have a coffee on the plane.”

“Nah, you should sleep.”

“Maybe,” you take out your phone and tap the side button. Nothing.

“Anything from Mr. Carter?” Sam asks.

“No,” you black the screen and shrug. “Come on, I gotta check my bag.”

“You should check that boy,” he blathers as he stands straight and once more yanks the bag after you, “tell him what’s what.”

“Sam, he’s busy--”

“He’s your best friend! At least, he likes to say so then do nothing.”

“Quit,” you beg him, “this is hard enough.”

“This is what you need--”

“I know!” You throw your hands up and face him as you come up before the counter. “I know. Okay. I’m stupid and---” you shake your head and let the truth sink back into the depths of your soul. You face the clerk and sigh, “I’m sorry, I’m here to check my bag.”

You pull out your wallet and slide your passport across the counter. You show your boarding pass and pay for the extra weight. Your bid a safe journey and carry on with only the smaller bag still on Sam’s shoulder.

Wordlessly, you sit in a row of seats. You look up at the clock. You’ll have to go to the boarding area sooner than later. He won’t be able to come with you.

“Sam, I’m sorry. I just... is it that obvious?” You croak.

He puts his hand on your back and rubs it gently. It’s soothing. The tension trickles down your sides and seeps out. It feels good to admit it aloud yet mortifying just the same.

“No, I just sense these things. I know Steve, I know you, and I know he doesn’t deserve you. Even as just friends.”

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands, “I am so stupid.”

“No, you’re not. You’re human. It stinks. Our brains, our hearts, they aren’t logical, as much as we like to pretend,” he huffs, “trust me. We’ve all been there and if we haven’t, we’ll get our turn.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you sit up as your eyes glisten, “I just... he said he’d be here. I thought I’d at least get that--”

Your name echoes through the airy space and you wince. Right on cue, just before you can collapse completely. You turn as Steve rushes toward you. He wears jeans and grey sweatshirt. He remembered!

You stand as Sam sighs. You smile, only halfway before you see the figure trailing behind him. Peggy looks less than excited to be there. Her sleepy lashes flutter as her wave hair is pinned back in a messy chignon, still elegant despite the carelessness. She wears a dark green trench over a silver satin nightie. She must’ve rushed out with him.

“Hey,” Steve nears, “sorry I couldn’t make it for drinks, but I couldn’t miss take-off.”

“Mmm, they don’t have any afternoon flights,” Peggy mutters.

“They do but landing doesn’t line up with the train,” you shrug and glance at her briefly. Her glare darts back at you. You wonder if that work dinner was so impromptu after all.

“Are you excited?” Steve drops into the seat next to you.

“Uh, yeah, nervous,” you smile as the weight lightens from your chest. He came. Maybe Sam is wrong. Maybe friends isn’t that bad.

“It’s going to be great. You have to send me updates, oh, and I’ll be sure to send you all the wedding news!” He grins, “I still can’t believe you’re going to be so far away.”

“It’s a good opportunity,” Peggy intones as she sits on his other side, resting her hand on his forearm, “in her line of work, I’m sure they don’t come often.”

You press your lips tight and look down, “yeah, not really.”

“She can get out. Make new friends. Some girl friends, maybe,” Peggy remarks.

“I’m sure she’ll make all the friends,” Sam interjects, “I hear there isn’t much sunlight over there, she’ll be a breath of fresh air for those grumpy vikings.”

“Mm, yes,” Peggy grumbles as she trails her hand down to Steve’s. “Too bad you won’t make the engagement party.”

“Or the wedding,” Steve adds.

“Well, we’ve a full wedding party as it is,” she shrugs. “There’ll be lots of pictures.”

“Right, yeah, I’m sorry to miss it all,” you frown. “I...” you sit back and nearly choke, “I’m gonna hit the bathroom.”

You stand as Sam puffs out heavily and to your surprise, Peggy swiftly gets to her feet, suddenly very awake. Your soberness is setting in along with a pulsing headache. You really don’t want to deal with her. If you knew he’d bring her, you’d have told Steve to stay home.

“I’ll come with you. I’m splitting at the seams,” she trills.

“Alright,” you agree with a tint of uncertainty.

She twirls and you walk parallel to her towards the bathroom signs. You chalk it up to the feminine habit. It isn’t unusual to visit the toilets in pairs, even without much kinship between you. It does however spoil your attempt at respite. You less so want to empty your bladder than clear your mind.

You don’t say a word as you enter the bathroom. You go into a stall and she does the same. Your mind clogs your biology and you have to sit and focus before you can get a flow going. By the time you’re trickling into the bowl, she’s done. A toilet flushes and you hear her unlatch the door and approach the sinks.

She’s in heels, even at this hour. The sink sprays out water and you listen to her hum as she washes her hands. You finish up and flush, coming out meekly to use the sink next to her. You focus on the simple task as she watches you in the mirror.

Sensing her gaze, you look up and pull your hands out from under the censor-activated faucet. You meet her eyes and nearly wince at the steely intensity. You stand straight and move past her to retrieve some paper towel.

“This is a wise decision,” she says, “well-needed.”

You look at her again as you dry your hands, “thanks.”

“Oh, I’m not congratulating you. About time you got some sense,” she sneers.

You wince and crumple up the towel. You drop it in the bin and cross your arms, “okay, well...”

“It’s better you’re not here for any of it. He doesn’t need the distraction.”

You chew the inside of your lip as venom drips from her voice. You’re still slightly tipsy and too tired to process this. You have no response.

“The distance will help you get over it. Finally,” she snips, “you know, I thought it was almost endearing at first then it just became pathetic.”

You swallow. You’re humiliated that even she could see right through you. You can hardly blame her for her spite. After all, she’s his fiancée, not you.

“He thinks it’s silly. He laughs.”

You flinch then. Hard. Your chest rents and your stomach boils.

“He knows. It’s obvious. I mean, it’s convenient, isn’t it? You’ll do anything for him and really it was rather helpful. Took a lot off my plate and his but it’s time for all of us to grow up. I will be his wife and he doesn’t need some girl to measure out his laundry detergent or remind him to eat.”

You blink and look away. You cross your arms and push your shoulders up, “got it.”

“So why don’t you go ahead and just put him on mute now?”

“Peggy,” you whisper.

“We’re getting married. You know you can’t stop it, that’s why you’re running away. So end it.”

“You don’t have to be cruel,” you mutter.

“I could be horrid. I could have been for all these years. I believe I’ve had remarkable restraint with you,” she points a manicured nail at you, “you should be thanking me for having the grace to do this in private.”

Your lip trembles and your cheeks tug painfully. You nod and turn away, “don’t worry, Peg, you won’t hear from me. He won’t either.” You make your way to the door, “I wish you both the best.”

“Mm, I pray you find some clarity and perhaps some maturity along the way,” she retorts as she follows you, heels clicking loudly across the tile, “perhaps you might find someone too. Someone you deserve.”

Her last words sting. The derision is pungent enough to make your nose crinkle. Someone you deserve... because you could never ever be good enough for Steve Rogers.

💟

You don’t look back as you go through the gate. You can’t. It’s too painful. The tears have receded but the pain is only deeper. Peggy’s words reverberate in your head, nipping at your ears as your nape burns hotter and hotter.

She’s right. Sam too. This is overdue. It’s exactly what you need to do. You know it. It’s the reason you chose this. That moment when you were faced with being the eternal wobbly third wheel, you made up your mind. It’s over. That part of your life is behind you, but you don’t know that you’ll ever stop feeling this way.

It’s hard to settle in your seat, even knowing you have ten hours of flying ahead of you. Disembarking alone will be another hour at least, then finding the train station, another few hours... It’s a lot of time to think and you just can’t stop.

You don’t take the book out of your bag or touch the screen in front of you. Instead, you sit, slumped down in your seat, eyes drifting back and forth, as you wallow in your self-pity. You stay like that through the flight. You decline the mid-flight meal and the snack cart. You don’t even get up to use the bathroom.

You close your eyes and float away into memory. You can feel the scene around you. You can smell the stale air freshener forgotten on the shelf above the desk and hear the muffled thrum of music through the walls. You sit on the bed, your textbook open in your lap and your laptop open by your leg. Steve’s on the other end, phone in hand, texting as his golden hair flops forward over his head.

He’s younger. That rosiness still kisses his cheeks as subtle freckles speckle his pale skin. Yet he’s just a well-built as ever. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, long legs. He’s the very picture that should appear next to ‘hunk’ in the dictionary. Every girl’s dream. Your dream.

“Huh,” he chuckles and drops his phone, “this girl in my history class wants to meet up.”

Your heart plucks and you force a smile, “a girl? Meet up?”

“Oh, yeah, she lets me copy off her pop quiz every lecture. Guess I kinda owe her.”

“Wow,” you utter, the only noise you can eke out. Owes her? Funny, you did his laundry last week and helped him print out his term paper... what do you get?

“Yeah, so uh, do you think you could send me a copy of your notes?” He pushes himself to the edge of the bed. “I probably won’t be back tonight.”

“Right,” you nod and hide your embarrassment at the insinuation.

“You can crash here if you wanna. Long way across campus at night,” he shrugs casually as he grabs his varsity jacket.

“No, I’ll... I’ll just go now,” you get off the bed and close up your books.

“Probably a good idea. Just in case she wants to come back here,” he chuckles, “see ya in poli sci?”

“Sure,” you keep your chin down. “See ya.”

Your eyelids lift as you come out of the dazed memory.

New York is gone. Steve is gone. You’re all alone. You’ve left it all behind but that home was never a home. It was all a farce you built on a childish hope. You’re done lying to yourself. It was never going to be. You didn’t miss any chance at all. You just wasted your own time.

You just languish there in the airplane seat. It’s still hard to believe it’s all real. It isn’t until the wheels bounce and hit the tarmac that it fully sinks in.

You’re not doing that again. You’re better off alone. You have to be, right? You don’t really know. You don’t even know yourself. You just know the girl who only wanted to be what he needed.

But what do you need? What do you want? Can you figure it out? Is there anything in this land for you that you couldn’t find in New York?

At least you’ll have lots of time to figure that out. Intimate hours with yourself to dwell and cringe and regret. Time to think, time to move on, time to cut him out.

As you join the line to have your Visa stamped, you pull out your phone and turn off airplane mode. You swipe through to Steve’s last message. It was weeks ago. That makes it easier to hit that button; ‘mute’. It’s a start. Maybe in a few weeks, you’ll be ready to hit ‘block’.

#steve rogers #series #au #fic #grayish fic #angst fic #someone new #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #thor x reader #thor

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notsoattractivearenti · 10 months

Text

Wanna Prove It? (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 800+

Warnings/Tags: pure fluff

A/N: a short one cuz i need to get it out of my system lol. he really is gonna be a great dad one day to our children cuz christian and babies = 🫠😍💗💗💗! btw no it's not dad!pulisic (y'all gotta wait until christmas 😋). anyway hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍 (ps: if you want to be added in my taglist just lmk!)

—

Christian and I are having a chill night in, and we spend most of the night laying on our couch with TV on. He gets up into the kitchen to get us some ice cream while I scroll through my Instagram feed on my phone – until I stumble across a video posted by USMNT of Matt Turner and Tim Ream answering a couple of "dad" questions. Just in time, Christian walks back into the living room holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons in his hands.

“Babe, have you seen the video USMNT just posted on Instagram?”

“What video?” He replies.

I show the post to him briefly as he sits back and puts the ice cream and spoons on the table in front of us.

“Oh it’s Matt and Tim! I thought it was another VW video I did!” He laughs. “ I haven’t seen it. Let me have a look.”

“Watch it until the end, I think you’re going to love it.” I suggest as I hand my phone and grab the ice cream.

He watches the short clip and makes some little comments during. He isn’t aware at the moment but from my point of view, excitement is written clearly on his face. There’s no denying he genuinely loves his national teammates (or as he usually calls them: buddies) – he does have some wonderful bonds with most of them.

“Yeah, I can see Joe and Brenden being terrific dads.” He agrees with one of Matt’s answers on the video.

“Wh- Aww, stop it.” Christian slightly blushes when Matt stated Christian would be a great dad and Tim agreed with it. “They’re so nice for saying that.”

“I do love their kids. They’re adorable and sweet!” He excitedly adds. “Also, who doesn’t love to hold babies!?”

“People who don’t like babies, I suppose.” I spontaneously answer him with a mouth full of ice cream – even though he doesn’t ask for one.

“Well, I think they are missing out on one of the best things in the world.” He comments back and it makes me chuckle.

I want to get more reaction from him so I ask him, “Do you think they’re right? That you’re going to be a great dad?”

“Uh…” He pauses. “Do you?”

“Hey, I asked you first!” I jokingly point my finger at him. “Don’t turn it back at me.”

“I mean, I hope I will…” He shyly hesitates. “But I don’t know. I don’t want to sound so cocky...”

“I know you will.” I wink at him.

His face suddenly turns pinkish red but his eyes lighten up so quickly.

“Y/N…”

“Say what you want Chris, but you know I’m right.” I try to convince him.

“Maybe…” Though he sounds unsure, he still agrees with me. “You know, I’m glad you think that way.”

With a spoon still in my mouth, I give him a little smile and nod my head. “Mmhm, you’re most welcome.”

The conversation ends there and we go back to finishing our pint of ice cream - or so I thought.

“You wanna prove it?” He breaks the brief silence.

“Huh.” I think I know what he’s implying but I’m not quite sure. “Prove what?”

“We can make a baby right now and prove I’m capable of being a great dad.” He smirks as he gently grabs my shoulder, pulls me closer then whispers in my ear, “We don’t need to wonder no more…”

Yup. That is exactly what I thought when he said “prove it”. Now it’s my face that turns so red and I nearly choke on my ice cream when he whispered so seductively. Oh, he surely knows how to get me good – what a cheeky man my boyfriend is!

“Christian Mate Pulisic!” I playfully gasp. “You can’t be serious!”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” He laughs seeing me so visibly flushed. “I am just offering something you and I both want, sweetheart.”

“Why are you so sure I want it?”

“Well, I mean, you literally talked about always wanting to have babies on our first date, didn’t you?” He states. “You can’t deny it. I remember every word you said, Y/N.”

“And I remember I specifically said one day when I’m finally ready, Chris!” I clarify his statement before he continues. “I am totally not there yet.”

“Okay, but you do want babies right? So my offer still stands.” He moves his eyebrows up and down while giving me a cheeky grin.

“Oh…” I cover my face and shake my head. “Of course but not now, babe! Besides, if I get pregnant today, it’ll be like… A teen pregnancy!”

“You’re in your 20s, Y/N!” He cackles at my remark.

“Still! I feel like I’m way too young to have a baby. I’m still one myself!” I jokingly whine.

“My God, Y/N, you are a baby.” He says sarcastically. “I’m just messing with you, my love.”

“I know, Chris, I’m not dumb.”

“Don’t worry, no need to rush, yeah? We can definitely wait.” He kisses my forehead. “‘Cause you’re the only baby mama I want.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x fem!reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fluff #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x you #footballer fic #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #footballer one shot #footballer fluff

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thisismeracing · 1 year

Text

Jealousy, jealousy | LH44

SOCIAL MEDIA AU

Pairing: black!actress!reader (she/her) x lewis hamilton

Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, it’s not proofread, etc etc. Minors DNI!

summary: After a red carpet interaction, people are shipping Yn with Chris Evans without knowing that she's dating a pilot. What will Lewis do when he sees the fuss internet is making about it?

Per this request 💜 I hope you like it, nonny!

a/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. everything else is made up by me and I do not give permission for it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

my masterlist | taglist

cevansupdates

liked by goldenyn, hstyles23, and others

cevansupdates Not Chris instantly putting his sunglasses on when he sees Yn 👀

View all 509 comments

captainamerica09 rumor has it he’s obsessed w black girls, and after this interaction I think its true

ynsunshine DID HE REALLY GOT READY TO CHECK HER OUT???? 😳😳

evansparadise Chris Evans and Yn Yln together is not a couple I saw coming but I 100% approve

1990yn I am always speechless with how pretty Yn is ❤️

lewishamilton

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and others

lewishamilton Life has been the best with you by my side 🤍

tagged: yourusername

view all 13,450 comments

yourusername SIR- I- I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING!!!!

sirroscoeh Lewis really said fuck soft launch and fuck those people shipping my girlfriend with an average white man

⤷ moviestaryln average????

⤷ sirroscoeh just a joke, bestie, I like them both, but I gotta be honest I would jump on sir lewis hamilton without giving it a second thought 🤫

georgerussell63 I had to listen to him complain for a whole hour!! 💀

yeehawricciardo I TOLD YALL!!!

popyn someone check on chris evans please LMAO

monzaatittude not lewis jealous of his superstar gf

ynsunshine1 the picture of yn giving the middle finger AHHAHAHA lewis is so petty, I love him for that

yourusername

liked by chrisevans, lewishamilton, and others

yourusername I thought it was supposed to be a soft launch, blame it on the Sir ❤️ ily, babe

tagged: lewishamilton

view all 11,309 comments

mercedesun THE LAST PICTURE OMG

hamilton8 I am in love with their relationship

ynprincess I love to see my black queens being infinitely loved 😭🤎🤎

roscoeking is your boyfriend single, yn?

ynandlewis I'm just thinking how did they manage to keep this a secret 🤔🤔🤔

⤷ schumercedes it wasnt 100% sucessfull tho, some people were able to connect the dots

franceformulaone yeah, guys, looks like that crazie was onto something

If you liked it, don't forget to click the small heart button and reblog as well <3 my inbox is always open for feedbacks, thots and random talk

taglist: @sachaa-ff

#lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #< if someone has it filtered #lh44 #f1 x reader #f1 x black!reader #lewis hamilton x you #black!reader x f1 #black!reader #op: smau #actress!reader

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littleseasiren · 1 year

Text

Alpine

Summary: Your long-time crush Bucky has a secret, a tiny white kitten. She's the cause of some interesting situations between you and the handsome super soldier. When Bucky's secret gets out, will it bring you closer together or break you apart?

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mainly fluff, mention of animal cruelty, threats of revenge on the abuser, Tony being an idiot until the reader makes him see sense.

Words: ~ 5800

A/N: Grammarly is my beta reader, so any mistakes are my own. Comments and reblogs will be appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my tag list. Thanks for reading!

"Bucky!" Your voice echoes in the empty hallway.

The super soldier looks like he is going to ignore your call but halts after a few seconds. He turns around, eyes wide open in innocence.

"I didn't do anything..." he mumbles softly. "I gotta go."

He turns around once again and starts walking to his room, his steps rushed.

"Wait!" You run in front of him. When he doesn't stop, you walk backwards, keeping him in your sight. "Where were you? We were supposed to have lunch together?"

"Crap," he sighs. "I'm so sorry doll. I got held up and forgot."

"It's ok. I saved you a plate. Why don't you come with me then you can eat it?"

"I, uh... can't."

"Why? What's wrong?"

His eyes don't meet yours. "I just don't feel well. I gotta go."

He sidesteps you when a strange sound comes from his zipped-up hoodie.

"Bucky, what was that?" You run after him, his strange behaviour making you suspicious.

"It's nothing." When he sees you don't believe him he rubs his forehead in apprehension. "Uh, it was my stomach."

"Bucky, for a spy, you suck at lying to me."

When another sound is made, you realize it kind of sounds like a meow. When your eyes widen in shock, he firmly pulls you into his room and locks the door.

"Please, don't tell anyone." His eyes beg you, the blue seeming to hypnotize you until he carefully zips down his hoodie and pulls out an ivory-white ball of fluff, and holds it in his hands. The ball of fluff meows and turns to look at you. You gasp when bright blue eyes meet yours, the kitten seeming tiny in Bucky's large hands.

"I know we're not allowed to have pets. Trust me, I didn't plan on getting one. She just happened."

"She? It's a girl? Are you sure?" You move closer to him, reaching out slowly and rubbing the little cat's head and ears, making her purr softly.

"Yeah, I had to take her to a vet. He confirmed it." Bucky shifts his hold and that's when you see it. A small pink cast is on the kitten's back leg, along with a bandage on her small tummy. You can't stop gasping. Something bad had to happen to the little girl.

"What happened to her?" You ask Bucky as you both move to sit on his couch. From his hoodie, he pulls out a small bag and puts it on the table next to him.

"Humans happened to her. I was on my jog when I saw this car speed into an alley. He threw a box into the dumpster and just sped off. At first, I just thought he was a prick that needed to throw away some trash. But then I heard a faint noise. The closer I got to the dumpster the more I could hear. The box he had thrown away? It had her in it, all bleeding and crying for help. I couldn't just leave her there. So I took her to the vet to be patched up. Thought maybe they would be able to look after her, but since it's the holidays, they are full. So I had to bring her home."

You can't help but tear up at the thought of what the little kitten had gone through. "People like that should never be able to have pets, ever. They should cut something off too, just to remind him what he's done."

Bucky chuckles next to you but his eyes are dark with anger. "If I get my hands on him, he'll be lucky to make it out with his life. People that abuse animals belong in the ninth circle of hell."

"That's for sure." When she cries out loudly, you both startle. "She must be hungry. Did the vet say what to feed her?"

"Yeah, he said I have to give her this formula for now." He picks up the bag and shows it to you. "He says she's almost 4 weeks old, but since she's a bit malnourished, I need to feed her a little bit every 3 hours. I need to gradually begin to increase the time between feedings before I start introducing wet foods too."

When she cries again you both chuckle at how cute she is. "Guess it's feeding time," he smirks at you as he stands up and walks to his small kitchenette. "Do you want to hold her?"

You almost squeal in delight, your smile lighting up the room. "Yes, please!"

Bucky decides to call the kitten Alpine, due to her snowy colour. You completely agree with him, the name fitting her like a glove.

The two of you work together to feed Alpine before you offer to go out and buy toys and kitty litter for her, secretly hiding it beneath bags of clothes.

When you come back, the two of you set up her supplies and settle in for a long evening of watching movies and feeding the cutest cat in the world.

You wake up to warmth beneath you and a small pressure on your lower back.

You moan softly, feeling safe and peaceful when a gentle touch runs down your side. Your eyes blink open in surprise and find blue eyes smiling up at you.

"Bucky, I-" you move to get off the big supersoldier but he stops you by grasping your shoulders gently.

"Easy doll, Alpine's going to fly off you if you get up. She's laying on your back."

"Oh," your eyes widen at the situation you find yourself in. You're laying on your stomach, your head on Bucky's shoulder as he lays beneath you. Your stomach to his chest, legs intertwined with a sleeping kitten on the small of your back.

You've never been this close to Bucky before, seeing for the first time the sprinkle of tiny freckles on his face, his full lips and perfect white teeth open in a smile. Why is he smiling?

Your cheeks burn in humiliation as you realise you've been staring at him and he's noticed.

Before you can apologise, he's talking, voice a little hoarse. "I'll lift Alpine then you can climb off. Just give me a second. I'll try not to wake her..."

"Ok," you whisper, eyes unable to meet him. When his arms creep up your sides, you have to hold in a moan that threatens to burst out of you at his touch. The man you had a crush on for months was touching you, but not in the way you wanted him to.

You pretty much hold your breath when his biceps sandwich you on both sides as he gently scoops up the sleeping kitten in his hands then holds them high in the air as you wiggle out from above him.

When he whimpers you look up at him but his eyes are the epitome of innocence so you must have imagined it. There was no way he liked you too, you weren't so lucky.

His muscles ripple beneath his shirt as he slowly stands up and walks to the new cat bed you had bought earlier, softly laying Alpine down as she continues sleeping.

When Bucky straightens and your eyes meet, you can't help but smile at how gentle he is. A lot of people think he's a miscreant, a bad man born from years of fighting, but he is the sweetest, kindest man that you have ever met. And Bucky holding a small kitten in his hands, so gently like she was made of glass? It just made you love him more.

The heavy look between the two of you is broken when someone knocks on his door.

"Bucky? It's me," Steve's voice calls out from the door. You freeze, not knowing what to do. You quickly duck down next to the sleeping Alpine, hidden from view by the couch.

You hear Bucky walk to the door and crack it open slightly.

"Hey, what's up?" Bucky asks casually, making you smile at his words. He's definitely picked up some slang since he joined the Avengers.

"Hi, Buck. Is Y/N here with you?"

"Uh, no she's not here. Why would she be?"

"Well Buck, unless you started wearing her perfume then I'm guessing she's here." You can hear the smirk in Steve's voice.

You take a deep breath and rise from your position behind the couch. "Hi Steve," you say with a small wave.

"She was...uh...helping me with something," Bucky says to Steve, arms crossed in discomfort.

"I bet she was." Steve's grinning like an idiot, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

"Tony needs your help on a project," Steve says to you as he looks around the room once again. "Are we going on our run?" He asks a brooding Bucky.

When it seems like Bucky is going to object, he quickly continues, "We'll be quick Buck. Thirty minutes tops."

Bucky sighs but relents. "Fine. Give me ten minutes then I'll meet you downstairs."

Steve winks at you as he exits, gleaming.

Finally, you and Bucky are alone again, neither of you knowing what to say.

The silence is broken by a small cry, Alpine letting the two of you know it is feeding time.

"You go doll. I'll quickly feed her then meet Steve and come back as soon as possible. Hopefully, she'll sleep while we're away." He smiles at you, his blue eyes twinkling with some emotion that you can't place.

"Ok, I'll try and be quick too, but with Tony, you never know. See you soon," you add as you exit the room.

A little more than half an hour later, you're back in Bucky's room, calling out softly but no one answers. Thinking he's not back yet, you enter his bedroom in search of Alpine.

She's on his large bed, napping peacefully when the bathroom door opens and Bucky walks out in what appears to be the tiniest towel that he owns.

"Oh, hey doll. Didn't know you were back yet. I just forgot to grab my clothes."

"Uh-huh." You nod automatically, eyes focused on the beautiful man in front of you. His sculpted chest is the first thing you see, his muscles so much bigger up close. In the corner of your eye, you notice his scarred shoulder where it meets his metal arm, but you gaze away quickly, knowing it makes him uncomfortable when people stare at it.

Your eyes focus on a bead of water in the centre of his chest, slowly rolling down his sternum and between his well-defined abs, the ridges causing the drop to roll slower and slower until it reaches the edge of the towel he's holding in a clenched fist.

When he clears his throat, you snap out of the trance his amazing body seduced you into. Cheeks on fire, you glance up at him, seeing a confused smile on his face.

"You alright doll?" His voice is rough, husky even.

You bring an unsteady hand to your beating heart, hoping he won't hear how hard it's pounding. Eyes wide, you stare at him. How long had you been ogling him? Before your treacherous eyes could dip down again, you take a small step back.

"Me? Oh, fine." Your hands clench together as you do your best to concentrate on your words. "The, uh, cat... Yeah, I need to feed..." Crap, your eyes move down on their own, this time noticing just how large his right arm is, the muscles bulging as he holds onto his small towel.

"You need to feed... the cat?" He's smirking now, his blue eyes shining in the morning sun.

Focus! "Uh huh," you mumble before turning around and starting to walk out of the room. It takes you a second to realise you forgot one crucial element to your plan as you spin around again and pick up Alpine before shutting the bedroom door behind you.

You catch your breath as you lean against the door, Alpine reaching up with her small paws and rubbing her head against your chest in comfort. "Oh, Alpine. My mind went completely haywire in there."

The second you said the words, anxiety fills you once again as you pray that Bucky didn't hear you speaking to Alpine. Having a super soldier as a friend was sometimes very tricky...

When the bedroom door opens, you're busy playing with Alpine, making her run after a feather tied to a string. You feel his eyes on you but you do your best to avoid looking at him. He watches the two of you for a moment before his voice fills the room, his body moving towards the door.

"Um, I'll go get us some food. You must be hungry?"

"Thanks, Bucky. That will be nice." You look up at him and give him a quick smile before moving your attention back to Alpine.

"Ok, I'll be right back, you two." He says as he opens the door then stops instantly, seeing Steve standing outside.

"Uh, hey Stevie. I'm gonna go get some food, you want to join?" He mumbles quickly, trying to distract Steve from what he had said earlier.

"You two?" Steve's eyes are wide open, a look of astonishment on his face. "Please tell me you don't have two women in there?" Before Bucky can say anything he continues. "You've always been kinky, but two at the same time? Maybe you should see-"

"Steve!" Bucky shouts, breaking Steve's tirade. You watch the exchange, too stunned to do anything. Steve is instantly silent until a loud meow comes from in front of you.

Bucky sighs as Steve pushes through the door and drops down next to you. "Why is there a cat in here?" He whispers to you.

"Bucky rescued her. The ass that had her decided he didn't want a cat anymore and threw her out like trash. Bucky saved her and brought her here." You inform him as he sits cross-legged on the floor.

"I know we're not supposed to have pets, but I couldn't just leave her. And the shelters are all full." Bucky joins the two of you on the floor and smiles as Alpine rubs her head on his knee before moving to Steve slowly.

The kitten looks up at him before slowly moving closer as Steve extends his hand, giving her a chance to sniff him before she rubs her side on his stretched fingers.

"Hi sweetheart," Steve says as Alpine climbs into his lap slowly, the cast on her leg making her slow. "She was injured then?"

"Yeah, I took her to the vet before I bought her here. I swear if I ever see that-" Bucky clenches his jaw so hard, you're afraid he'll break something. You reach out and hold his hand, showing him you understand. "I'll throw him out like the trash he truly is. Except he won't be alive when I do." He huffs out.

"You've always had a soft spot for animals, glad that hasn't changed Buck." He scratches Alpine's head before he starts giggling. "So, technically, I was right. You do have two women in your room. One's just a feline."

"Yeah, we all know what you were thinking Steve. So much for Captain America being a gentleman."

"Haha, I am a gentleman. I just never said I was innocent. And neither is he. I know him, he's still kinky. There was this one time one of his dates asked him to-"

"Steve!" Bucky whisper-shouts. Steve just winks at you in reply. Just what did she ask Bucky, you ponder.

Bucky blushes when his eyes meet yours for a second.

"Why don't you leave me with the cat and you two go grab some food? The others are becoming suspicious of your absence." Steve says as he strokes Alpine softly.

You and Bucky glance at each other and nod in agreement.

"Her name is Alpine," Bucky says on the way out. "She's been fed, so just keep her company. Thanks, Steve."

"And please don't tell anyone about her, she's our little secret," you add on the way out.

Bucky's making his way to the kitchen when you pull him to the side. If your hand stayed on his arm a few seconds too long, you chose to ignore it.

"Um, maybe I should go in first, then you follow in a few minutes? Or do you go in first? If they see us entering together..." your voice trails off, the implication of your words clear to him as his eyes widen and his breath catches.

"Uh, yeah sure. You don't want to give them the wrong impression." His jaw clenches for a second, eyes turned down before he continues. "Maybe I'll check if Sam is still in his room first." He turns around and starts walking in the opposite direction, his sudden departure astounding you. Just what was his issue now?

He and Sam enter the kitchen a few minutes later, his gaze fixed on the plate of food he fills.

"So Bucky, haven't seen you around today," Natasha says in a sultry voice. You know she's with Steve, but you can't help your hackles rising at her tone. Were you jealous?

He glances at the two of you swiftly before focusing on his food again. "Yeah, I've been busy."

"Very interesting... Y/N's also been busy today."

"Well Nat," your voice is full of irritation, "we are Avengers. So we should all be pretty busy, don't you think?"

The beautiful redhead just looks at you before bursting out laughing. After a few seconds, you can't help but join her.

Sam and Bucky just look at the two of you in confusion.

"That was good honey," Nat says between giggles as you continue eating.

By the time lunch is done, Bruce and Tony had made an appearance too.

You were just grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when Bucky approached you, the others having left earlier.

"Doll, I gotta ask," Bucky says as he bites his lower lip, "Before when you said I make your brain go haywire... did you mean that in a good way or in a bad way? I know I can be a lot to handle sometimes..."

You suck in a deep breath, your heart racing. So he did hear you earlier. You start to deny it when you see the look in his eyes. Did he really think you could ever think anything bad of him?

"Oh, um. I had hoped you wouldn't hear that." He's standing close so you have to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes. "But I meant it in a good way." When he doesn't seem to believe you, you continue. "Bucky, you were standing in front of me with just a tiny towel on, of course, I meant it in a good way. You know you're attractive..."

Blue eyes light up as he smirks at you. "So you think I'm attractive huh? So when can I see you in just a tiny towel? To even the odds?"

"Keep dreaming big guy," you reply as you gently punch him on the shoulder.

The two of you giggle together before Bucky looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

"Maybe I will..."

When you don't answer he clears his throat softly.

"Um... hypothetically, if I stopped being a wuss," he swallows hard, "and I asked you out on a date, what would your answer be?"

Some part of you wants to tease him and make him suffer, but you don't. "Hypothetically, if you asked, I would say yes. Definitely yes."

"Yeah?" His smile is huge, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Sam appears in front of the two of you, trying to reach for the fridge.

"Sam, not now!" Bucky groans at the man, lightly pushing him away.

"But I want a cupcake!" Brown eyes cry out.

"You just had lunch! You'll get indigestion! Now buzz off!" Bucky forces him to turn around and pushes him forward, making Sam huff in frustration.

When Bucky looks at you expectantly, you simply nod in answer. "Yeah, Bucky. But you still have to ask me," you tease him.

"You little minx! Fine." He takes a deep breath, "Will you go on a date with me? Tonight if you're free?"

"Of course Bucky." Your smile drops, making Bucky anxious. "But who's going to look after Alpine? Can we ask Steve?"

"Yeah, he and Natasha can look after Alpine."

You stare at Bucky, trying to understand him. "Nat and Steve?" You inquire.

Bucky snorts in reply. "There's no way that punk hasn't already told his lady about Alpine. The fact that he's dating a spy hasn't helped him be able to keep secrets. Not from Natasha."

"Are you sure of that? I think we should give Steve the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure he can keep Alpine secret for a while..."

"You wanna bet doll? $100 says she already knows."

"Sure, but let's make it interesting. Let's see," you tap your index finger on your chin, "if I win, you have to... take me shopping."

Bucky groans in defeat. You know he hates going shopping. "And if I win? What do I get?"

You eye him up and down, "What do you want?"

The corner of his lip lifts in a half smile. "You really shouldn't be asking me that."

"Keep it PG, Bucky!" You say as you tap his shoulder.

"Fine," Bucky lifts his hands in defeat. "If I win, you have to kiss me."

"Deal!" You're way too fast in your answer, making Bucky laugh. "Come on, let's see who wins!" You hook your hand into his elbow as the two of you make your way to his room.

Steve's guilty look is the first thing you see when you enter the room. Natasha is lying on her stomach next to him, running her finger on the floor, laughing as Alpine chases after it.

"Steve! How could you?" You cry out in mocking anger. "I defended you, yet you caved so easily?"

"Sorry! I tried but she saw right through me!"

"See doll? I've known him forever, he's a weakling!"

"Hey!"

"Well, it's true isn't it Steve? You lasted like, what, two minutes?"

"Five," Natasha giggles next to him. "Good thing I like that he can't keep secrets from me."

Bucky's eyes are beaming with the promise of your kiss. "So, when do I get my reward?"

You grab his shirt and pull him down to you, clasping your hands around his neck. You lean in closer, your breath mixing with his, before you lean to the side and kiss him on his cheek.

You're giggling as you pull back, a look of astonishment on his face. "Hey, that's cheating!"

"Sorry Bucky, you never specified where the kiss had to be." You giggle as you join Nat on the floor. Your gaze fixed on Alpine stumbling around.

Bucky is smiling as he joins the small group on the floor. Alpine's movements become slower and slower before she admits defeat and climbs into Bucky's lap. A tiny white ball of fluff on Bucky's thick thighs.

"Guess it's time for a nap," Steve says as he helps Natasha up from the floor.

You know you're in trouble when Natasha's green eyes meet yours. "I think it's time we had a chat."

Bucky picks Alpine up slowly, making sure not to wake her as you, Natasha and Steve depart.

"So, what's going on with you and Bucky?" Natasha asks as soon as you are far enough away to prevent Bucky from hearing. Steve had left to get lunch.

"He asked me out on a date," your stare ahead, a big smile on your face.

"Finally! You two have been pining for each other for months! And the kiss on the cheek?"

"That was a bet. He believed Steve had already told you and I thought he would keep Alpine secret a little longer. So he won and I owed him a kiss."

"Uh-huh. Anything else happened with him? I picked up some tension between the two of you at lunch."

"Um, I might have fallen asleep with him last night. When I woke up I was lying on top of him with Alpine sleeping on my back. We had to wiggle to get up without waking her." You bite your lower lip, "Then this morning I was looking for Alpine when I kinda walked in on him getting out of the shower in a tiny towel. I swear Nat, seeing those muscles up close almost made me pass out!"

"Seems like Alpine is the perfect matchmaker! She's getting the two of you into great situations!"

Natasha is bubbling with laughter as the two of you make your way to the training room. You are eager to work off some nerves before your date.

"Ok Alpine, what about if I take her to a fancy restaurant for dinner?" You hear Bucky's voice softly through the door, a small meow being the only answer.

"Yeah, you're right. It's a bit normal for a first date right? I don't want her to think I'm boring." It's quiet for a second then you hear his voice again.

"A movie?" Another meow, softer this time.

"Nope, she won't be able to sit still unless it's a very interesting movie. So what then?"

"I know, I'll -"

You knock on his door, not wanting to hear what he has planned and spoil all his fun.

You hear him say something on his way to the door, and Alpine seems to agree enthusiastically if her loud purr is an answer.

When Bucky lets you in and closes the door, you see Alpine sitting on his shoulder, nails holding onto Bucky's shirt for stability.

"Hey, doll. Watch this!" He's beaming as he takes a seat on the couch and removes Alpine from his shoulder. He puts her on the couch and wiggles his left hand. She drops down into a crouch then runs up his metal arm, her back leg struggling along, nails fitting into the grooves of his metal arm perfectly until she's back on his shoulder again, a loud purr coming from her tiny body. "Pretty soon she's going to be able to do all kinds of things. There's no stopping this lady!"

When Alpine's gaze falls on you, she meows and rubs her head against Bucky's neck then stares at you again.

Getting the picture, you move closer to the two of them and bend down to rub her adorable head. Her tail is curled around Bucky's neck as she leans forward into your touch, purring loudly in happiness.

Bucky pulls you softly forward, making you sit on his knee, his arm around the back of your waist holding you close. His smile is enchanting, a similar grin forming on your face. When he leans down closer, your breath catches. This is what you've been waiting for, a kiss from Bucky Barnes will certainly kill you with pleasure. You've barely begun to feel his lips on yours when his bedroom door shoots open, Steve's imposing figure standing in the doorway.

"We got a problem, Buck." He hastily says as he closes the door and moves closer to the three of you. You climb off Bucky's lap and sit down next to him, watching as Steve approaches.

"Wanda and Vision just came back from their mission. Wanda has a concussion so her powers are a bit wonky. Natasha and I were busy whispering about how to help you keep Alpine a secret. Wanda heard our thoughts and got so excited that you have a cat that she repeated it out loud and... Tony heard. He's on his way here now and he doesn't look very happy."

You gasp in surprise and turn to see Bucky running his hands over his face, knowing what is to come.

"Maybe we can hide her?" You begin to say but are interrupted by the knocking on the door.

"He won't believe it," Steve sighs in defeat.

"You two just stay out of it, ok? I can take whatever he throws at me. He hates me already anyways." Bucky stands and walks to the door. Alpine held onto his shirt, cuddled up into his neck.

Tony looks Bucky over, eyes hardening in anger. "Barnes, I give you food and shelter, pay you for going on missions, I take care of you even though I can't stand to see you some days. And all I asked for were a few rules to be followed. One of those rules was no pets. Am I correct in my assumption that that is a cat on your shoulder?"

Wanda, Natasha and Sam creep into the hallway, watching the scene unfold.

"Yes, Tony. I'm sorry. I found her and the shelters are full for Christmas. I didn't have anywhere for her to go."

"Well, either the cat goes now or you both go. Your choice." Tony doesn't even blink when he gives his ultimatum.

Bucky's brows drop in concern, eyes wide open. "You can't be serious Tony. Give me some time-"

"I don't care Barnes. The cat goes right now."

"Tony you can't!" You shout from the doorway, Steve behind you.

"I can do whatever I want. This is my Tower in case you've forgotten that. I'm willing to overlook your involvement in this but don't make me regret it. Any of you." He says as he faces the others.

"It's ok doll," Bucky says softly as his fingers rub your hand for a second. When he faces Tony again his jaw is clenched with anger. "I'm not going to abandon her too. Alpine and I will be out in 10 minutes."

Bucky walks into the bedroom, his meaning taking a few seconds to sink in before everyone pushes into the room, talking a huffing Tony with them.

"Bucky no," Steve calls out as Bucky grabs a bag in his room, starting to fill it with a change of clothes.

You face Tony, your anger making you shake with adrenaline. "I thought you were better than this Tony. Bucky found Alpine being thrown away like trash, her leg broken, ravenous with hunger. She's barely a month old. Now you're going to punish him for doing the right thing? For following his heart and taking care of a helpless animal? You are an asshole if you punish him for that. You're just letting your anger towards Bucky cloud your judgement. If Bucky and Alpine have to go then so will I."

"Doll don't-" Bucky starts but you interrupt him.

"No Bucky, I don't want to work for someone who hates innocent animals and would prefer to keep them on the streets. I refuse to work for anyone like that. I'm just disappointed that the mighty Tony Stark is like that." You glare at Tony, brown eyes meeting yours for just a second.

"Don't leave without me Bucky. I'll be back in five minutes." You start to walk out of the room but Tony stops you.

He stares down at you for a moment before he sighs in defeat. "Her leg's really broken?"

"Yes, it's really broken. Bucky saw a man stop in the alley and throw the box in the trash, luckily he heard her cries and rescued her. He took her to the vet and the vet fixed her up. She's a tiny kitten, Tony. If it was you who found her, would you have just left her there?"

He doesn't answer you as he turns to Bucky's bedroom. "Let me see her."

Bucky gently wraps his large hands around her tiny body, being careful of her cast before he softly puts her in Tony's outstretched hands. He watches Tony like a hawk, analysing his every move to make sure he doesn't hurt his baby kitten.

Tony brings her closer to his chest, his right hand stroking her head softly as sky-blue eyes gaze at him in appreciation. "I don't hate animals. I just can't have everyone running around with their pets. This is a dangerous place, and we can't have dozens of animals staying here. If I allow one person to have a pet, the others would want them too."

"Maybe Alpine can be the Team's cat? She already has a bond with Bucky but animals have so much love, they give it to anyone who loves them in return." You grasp Bucky's hand and give it a squeeze. "Besides, a cat has a mischievous side too, the more people who engage with her, the more fun she'd have. It'll help her stay out of trouble."

"You'd be willing to share her?" Tony asks Bucky hesitantly.

"Of course, I hate having her cooped up in my bedroom, the more she can explore, the better. Besides, this cutie needs all the love she can get. Together we can show her that not all humans are bad."

"Fine, Barnes and Alpine can stay." Tony relents, making the others cheer in response. "But I'm cuddling with her in the living room first!" Tony calls out as he walks out of the room, mumbling to Alpine that he will buy her the best of everything, including a big climbing set as soon as her leg gets better. The rest of the team follows Tony, each adding to the list of what has to be bought for the best kitten in the world.

"So Bucky, you get to stay, after all."

"Thanks to you, doll. What you said was amazing, I've never seen someone rip into Tony so easily." Unsure blue eyes meet yours. "Would you have left with me? If he hadn't changed his mind?"

"Yeah Bucky. I would have. What I said was the truth. I'd go anywhere with you."

"You're so sure I'm worth it? That I'm good?"

"Bucky, you saved a helpless kitten. You did it because you cared, not because you wanted praise or attention. Hell, you tried to keep it a secret! Anyone who cares so much about animals that they are willing to walk out on what they know just to keep them safe can't be bad. It's impossible. You're the best Bucky. And now that Alpine has a whole family to look after her, I think it's the perfect time to go on that date you owe me."

"Of course, doll. Anything you want."

"Anything?" You smirk at him, wickedness in your eyes.

"Anything," he replies as he drops his head down, hands wrapping around your waist. Your arms circle his neck as you stand on your toes to meet him, kissing him like you've wanted to for months. And he's all too happy to reciprocate.

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