#no this wasn’t thought of at like 3 in the morning what | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 17 hours

Note

hi mira can i pls req a sae x reader and it’s like falling in love with someone. like you know that feeling when you’re really getting to know someone and it sounds like a soft song

i love uu take care x

── SEABIRD

Synopsis: Thanks to a chance encounter on the beach, you spend your vacation trying to apologize to the famous soccer player you inadvertently offended. Unfortunately, Sae Itoshi has other plans.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Sae x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 11.6k

Content Warnings: love at first sight, fluff, humor, teasing as a love language, sae does not understand emotions or relationships but he’s rich asf, reader has a little brother and loves eating, meet-cutes, summer romance, SEAGULLS

A/N: although sae is a difficult character for me to get a hold of, i ended up having fun with this LMAO as i’m sure you can tell by the massive word count 😭 i hope he’s not horribly ooc or anything and that this is kind of what you were looking for anon!! tysm for requesting and ily too <3

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

You tried to evaluate the series of choices you had made which had led to you lying atop a boy with green eyes and sand smeared across his cheeks, a blank expression on his face despite the way you were literally sprawled over him.

First: your family had decided to spend your summer vacation in Spain. This was innocuous and broad enough, considering how large the country was, so you concluded that your brother’s desire to practice his rudimentary Spanish in a more realistic setting than his high school classroom could not be blamed for your plight.

Second: your father had gotten a great deal on rooms in a luxury beachfront hotel. He was like a bloodhound when it came to haggling and discounts, so it wasn’t a surprise that you were staying in such a nice place for a relatively cheap price — and with a complimentary breakfast every morning, too! Anyways, the hotel had its own private pool that you could’ve been lounging around beside, so that probably wasn’t the cause, either.

Third: your mother had told you that the beach within walking distance of the hotel was famous for its smooth waters and pale sand. You had to visit at least once, according to her and every other travel guide written about the region, but since no one had wanted to go with you, you had decided to go alone, bringing a book, a bottle of sunscreen, and a blanket with you, throwing a dress on over your swimsuit and preparing yourself to spend the entire day soaking in the sun’s rays. This was definitely a contributor to your current predicament, although considering the miles of beach that stretched out in both directions as far as the eye could see where you could’ve been instead of right there, it wasn’t the sole factor.

Fourth: you had thought you would get hungry at some point and had had the foresight to bring a sandwich with you. That was definitely the reason. If only you hadn’t been so concerned with your stomach! If only you had just sucked it up and made the trek back to the hotel upon feeling peckish instead of being so lazy and planning ahead, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

“Can you get off of me?” the boy groaned.

“I am so sorry!” you said, scrambling to your feet and offering him your hand. He did not take it, standing on his own and doing his best to wipe the sand from his face. Then he shook his head like a dog, shaking out the grittiness from his soft hair. “I’m really sorry. I was just running so fast, and I was so worried about my sandwich that I didn’t notice you were there until it was too late!”

“Sandwich?” he said. A few paces away, a seagull landed, the remnants of your lunch held in its beak. You and the boy watched as it tilted its head back, swallowing the last few bites before cawing at you in satisfaction.

“You pig!” you shouted, pointing at it, the boy beside you temporarily forgotten as you fumed over the loss. It cocked its head at you. “That was mine!”

“Ah,” the boy said. “Your sandwich.”

The seagull hopped towards you, like it was teasing you or something, and you screeched before diving at it. Satisfied with the mischief it had caused and the food it had stolen, as well as with making a fool out of you, the seagull took wing, flying well out of reach and leaving you facedown on the ground, your stomach grumbling sadly and emptily.

A foot nudged against your rib cage. “Hey. Sandwich girl. You’re not concussed, are you?”

Being referred to as sandwich girl was so humiliating that you were instantly pushing yourself into a sitting position, folding your arms across your chest as you gazed up at the boy, who still wore that same unimpressed expression from when you had barreled into him.

“No,” you said.

“That’s great,” he said, though he did not sound particularly concerned nor relieved. “Mind elaborating a bit more on why you ran me over? You could’ve seriously injured me, and then you would’ve been in a bunch of trouble.”

“You would’ve been in a bunch of trouble,” you mocked, making your voice high and smarmy. “Jeez, what are you, some kind of celebrity or something? I ran you over because I was taking a break from reading my book, and I realized that I was hungry. Well, luckily, I had brought a sandwich along with me, so it wasn’t a huge deal. I was just about ready to dig in, when that fat pig of a bird swooped down and stole it right out of my hands! The gall! The shamelessness! It was definitely laughing at me, and I can’t stand anyone who laughs at me, so naturally I took off in pursuit, and, uh, that’s how I ended up crashing into you. Though you really should’ve been paying more attention, too. What’s so fascinating about the horizon that you just blocked out the rest of the world for it?”

“I like looking at the ocean,” he said. “But, wait. What do you mean, some kind of celebrity? Don’t you know who I am?”

You gave him a once-over. He was tall, though not impressively so, and definitely well-muscled. His hair was a warm shade, and his green eyes were framed with long eyelashes that fluttered every time he blinked. A pair of sunglasses was perched atop the crown of his head, and the top few buttons of his white shirt were undone, lending him a breezy appearance.

“You’re not handsome enough to be an actor, so that can’t be it,” you said, chewing on your lower lip in thought. “Plus, I’ve seen a bunch of movies, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t been in any of them, so if you were in the film industry, you’d be a D-lister at best, and there’s no way you’d want to flex that kind of status.”

He furrowed his brow, the first hint of a different expression than the one he had kept for the entirety of your very brief acquaintance. “What?”

“What else are people famous for?” you said. “Oh! Are you a singer or something? Were you in that one boy band from a few years ago? I’m sorry, I was too busy having a ‘not-like-other-girls’ phase when they were popular, so I never got into them. I’m over the phase now, if you were wondering, but that would be why I didn’t recognize you.”

“You are amazingly off the mark,” he said.

“I am? I’m kind of out of ideas at this point, though. Can I have a hint or something?” you said.

“Do you watch soccer?” he said. You made a face.

“Hell no,” you said. His eye twitched, so you hurried to elaborate. “My little brother is obsessed with it, so by law, I’m required to hate everything related to the sport. Do you have any siblings? You’d get it if you did.”

“Ask your brother about Sae Itoshi,” he said.

“Okay,” you said, drafting a text to your brother and sending it when you had deemed it to be a perfect blend of uninterested and cool while also underscoring the urgency of the request. “So, your name’s Sae Itoshi? I’m Y/N L/N! I’m not a celebrity, though. If you text anyone and ask them about me, they’ll probably be pretty confused.”

“Yeah, I got that impression,” he said. Your phone vibrated in your hand, and when you looked at the notification, you saw that it was from your brother.

uglier sibling: no shit i know about sae itoshi. he’s that one super talented midfielder on re al. he’s dad and i’s fav player atm.

You gulped, glancing up at Sae before returning to your phone.

me: lol wtf is re al.

uglier sibling: it’s madrid’s team lmfaooo dumbass how do you not know that

uglier sibling: actually wait why are u even asking lol

uglier sibling: did u meet him or something

me: funny story actually!

uglier sibling: WHAT

uglier sibling: y/n are u with sae itoshi rn.

uglier sibling: y/n answer pls

uglier sibling: can you at least get his autograph for me or smth???

Pretending like you were still texting your brother, you typed the name Sae Itoshi into your phone’s search engine. The photos that came up matched the boy in front of you, and the news articles made your heart pound. He actually was a celebrity, and furthermore, his earlier arrogance was deserved. If you had somehow injured such a famous player and put him out of commission for the season, then you really would’ve been done for. It hadn’t been an exaggerated sense of self-importance but an honest evaluation of himself.

“Ahem,” you said, feigning a cough to appear dignified and mature. “It seems like you are a pretty well-known soccer player, Mr. Itoshi.”

“It seems like I am,” he said.

“My brother and dad are big fans, apparently,” you said.

“Good thing you didn’t take me out permanently, then, or I’m sure they would’ve been pretty disappointed,” he said.

You cringed. “I’m sorry again.”

“Whatever. I won’t hold it against you; all’s well that ends well, after all,” he said.

“I feel really bad, though,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“You didn’t do anything, so there’s nothing to make up for,” he said.

“Not true! I knocked you over and said you’re not handsome!” you said. “I’d say that warrants some kind of recompense.”

“It’ll warrant more recompense if you keep saying it,” he said.

“You agree that you deserve payment, then? Great! Um…how about I…buy you lunch?” you said, the insistent pangs of your stomach reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten.

“Is food the only thing you can think about?” he said.

“For your information, it is not, but I haven’t eaten since the morning, so I’m hungry,” you said.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m not interested, and just so you know, I’ve been asked out by plenty of girls, but by far, this has been the lamest attempt.”

You supposed, looking back, that it did seem like that was your end goal. But, of course, it had been nothing of the sort; you were just planning on going to eat yourself and thought that you might as well kill two birds with one stone. It was just your luck that he had twisted your words into such a request, though! How were you supposed to maneuver yourself out of this position? If you denied it furiously, then it would seem like you were just ashamed at getting caught, but if you didn’t say anything, then it would be akin to agreeing with his accusation.

There was only one way out of it, and even though you were usually opposed to lying, and even more opposed to bullying others, it was the only thing you could think of. So, bowing your head, you clasped your hands together in front of your heart.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not my type, Mr. Itoshi,” you said. “Like I said, you’re really not that handsome. Also, I’m into tall guys.”

That was how you found yourself sitting across from Sae Itoshi in a private booth at a fancy restaurant, your hands trembling as you read over the menu items and their associated prices.

“I’m in the mood for steak,” Sae said, stroking his chin and setting down his menu, interlacing his fingers and raising his eyebrows at you. “What about you?”

“Steak is a dinner item, don’t you think?” you said, your head spinning at the fact that he had picked the most expensive thing that was served at the entire establishment. “It’s lunchtime.”

“I’m an athlete,” he said seriously. “I need a lot of protein in all of my meals. Especially because I’m so short. It’s important for me to build muscle, don’t you agree? How else will I manage to compete with the taller, better-looking players?”

“Steak it is,” you said with a faux smile. “As for me, I’ll just get crackers.”

“Crackers? What kind of lunch is that?” he said.

“An affordable one,” you muttered under your breath.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing!” you said. “It’s nothing. I just really like crackers.”

He gave you an odd look. “Alright.”

You waved the waiter over. He had been hovering around your table for the past few minutes, and as soon as he saw you beckoning him, he sprinted to your side, fumbling with his pen and notepad before reaching you and bowing.

“Sae Itoshi, sir! I’m sorry to interrupt your date, but I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of yours. If — if it’s not too much trouble, could I have your autograph?” he said.

Sae sighed, a long-suffering and irritable sigh. “Just take our order first. I’ll give it to you after we’ve eaten.”

“Oh, my apologies,” the waiter said. “What would you like?”

“I’ll have the steak, and I also want this sandwich, but omit the tomatoes, please,” he said, pointing at the menu items he wanted.

“Got it,” the waiter said. “What about you, miss?”

“Just the crackers,” you said. The waiter paused, but when you did not say anything more, he giggled nervously.

“Would you, uh, like some cheese with those?” he said.

“Nope,” you said. “I’m really the biggest fan of plain crackers. That’s all I want.”

“Sure, miss, if that’s what you’d like,” he said. “So, one steak, one sandwich, and a plate of crackers?”

“That’s right,” Sae said, hardly looking up from his phone when he did so. It was only once the waiter had run off to place your orders that he put the device away, resting his elbows against the table, setting his chin in his hands and giving you a bored look. “Why are you glaring at me?”

“Steak and a sandwich, really?” you said.

“A conversation with you was more than enough to increase my appetite,” he said. “Forget about that. This is the part where you ask me questions about myself and I pretend like I am interested enough to answer them.”

“Why would I do that?” you said, rolling your eyes at him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure your answer to that question will be something that makes me even more annoyed than I already am, so don’t bother. What’s your favorite movie?”

“You’re not going to ask me about soccer?” he said. “It’s Taxi Driver, by the way.”

“I don’t know that much about soccer, so what would I even ask? Based on what I’ve seen from the matches my brother and dad watch, it’s just a bunch of sweaty guys kicking around a ball and pretending like they’re dying whenever another player happens to look at them the wrong way,” you said. “Oh, actually, I am curious about that. How many of those injuries are real? Have you ever faked getting hurt?”

“Almost none of them,” he said. “Generally, players will overreact for the sake of entertainment and the possibility of the opposition receiving yellow cards. I’ve never needed to do anything like that, and I never want to, because it looks stupid. Also, soccer is more than that mediocre description you just gave me.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” you said. “Man kick ball. Ball go in net. Man happy. That’s the extent of it.”

“Women play soccer, too,” he said.

“It’s the same concept there, but with women instead of men. Not the argument you thought it was,” you said.

“I can’t believe you actually dislike soccer,” he said.

There was definitely some irony in the fact that you couldn’t care less about his chosen sport, and yet you were the one who had somehow finagled your way into eating with him — even if you were the one who was paying. There were so many people who’d do anything to be in your place, but to you, it was a begrudging chore that you were only performing because you felt obligated to. Mentally, you had already marked the entire encounter down as something that you’d laugh about to your friends later; a fun story you’d tell at parties, but little else.

“Like I told you earlier, I’m the older sister. If I didn’t rag on my brother’s interests, then I couldn’t claim that title in any way that mattered,” you said. Sae’s eyes flicked down to the ground.

“You should be nice to your brother when you can,” he said.

“Are you some kind of an only child or saint, then? There’s no way you’re saying that if you have a normal relationship with any possible siblings,” you said.

“I have a little brother,” he said. “Our relationship is okay. I haven’t seen him in a while, though.”

“Long distance?” you said, reaching over to pat him on the hand sympathetically. “That’s the worst. I miss my friends and my pets already, and I’m only here for vacation.”

He snatched his hand away. “You make it sound like we’re dating or something. It’s alright. I’m sure it’ll be the same as it was whenever I go back.”

“True, it’s not like he can dump you and find a new brother who’s both better and more conveniently located than you are. He’s kind of stuck with you forever,” you said.

“Enough about my brother,” he said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay,” you said. “What TV shows do you watch when you’re bored?”

The two of you continued on in that mindless manner until your food arrived. Your mood, which had steadily been rising as Sae proved himself to be, if nothing else, a willing conversationalist, rapidly plummeted as the waiter set the steak and sandwich in front of Sae and the crackers in front of you.

“Enjoy your meal,” the waiter said.

“I’m sure one of us will,” you said, picking up a cracker and biting into it rebelliously. Sae began to cut his steak into small pieces, using his fork to demurely place the meat on his tongue, doing nothing to disguise the indulgence of eating such a wonderfully prepared meal while you were stuck with crackers.

“What a shame,” Sae said when he was about halfway through his steak. You hadn’t spoken since the food had come, mostly because you were too busy fervently hoping that he would choke and you would somehow be awarded a free meal as an apology on the restaurant’s part, so you jumped at the sound of his voice cutting through the silence. “My eyes were bigger than my stomach. I don’t think I’ll be able to eat that sandwich after all.”

“We should send it back, then,” you said.

“What sort of place do you think this is?” he said. “It’s already been ordered, so it’s ours now.”

“Are you serious?” you said. “What now? I’ll have to pay for something that you didn’t even eat!”

“You’ll just have to have it,” he said.

“Me?” you said, already salivating at the delectable sandwich, the bread which was taunting you. Come, it seemed to be calling out to you. Eat me. You know you want to. “I guess that’s a sensible prospect. Someone’s going to have to take it.”

“Someone will,” he agreed, sliding the plate across the table and stealing a cracker for his troubles. “It might as well be you. My coach will be pretty upset if I get stomach cramps next season because I overate too much on my off time. I’d have to tell him that it was your fault, and then you’d have all of Re Al after you, and you don’t want that. They’re relentless.”

Your fingers inched towards the sandwich. “I definitely don’t. That sounds scary.”

“It would be amusing,” he said. “A waste of resources, though. They might cut my salary to make up for it. ”

“Then the only solution is for me to eat this sandwich,” you said.

“Essentially,” he said. You gave in, taking an enormous bite of the tantalizing sandwich and exhaling in delight. It really was as good as the exorbitant price tag claimed it would be, and although you would never buy such a thing for yourself, you found that you were a little more grateful for the series of events that had led you to be in this position now that your stomach was finally being greeted with something substantial.

“It’s good,” you said, your words muffled by the napkin you held in front of your mouth as you finished chewing. “I can kind of get why they charge so much now. It’s still way more than any sandwich should ever cost, ever, but…I kinda get it. Is your food good, too?”

“It is,” he said.

“Alright!” you said, giving him a double thumbs up. “Then you can consider this a worthy apology! Let’s finish eating and be done with the entire mess.”

“Hm? But how can it be a worthy apology when I’m the one who paid for everything? To me, that doesn’t sound like an apology at all,” he said. You froze, your mouth wide open, the sandwich still halfway to your mouth and drooping in your hands. Sae looked at you, still expressionless, though if you really focused, you would’ve noticed something like mirth dancing in his irises.

“What do you mean?” you said. He unlocked his phone and showed you his screen.

“You can pay by app here,” he said. “I did it as soon as we were done ordering. I was going to tell you after you ordered what you wanted for yourself, but I wasn’t expecting you to be so frugal that you’d really only order crackers!”

“But — but I was supposed to pay! To apologize for—”

“You don’t have to say it,” Sae said sourly, cutting you off. “Believe me, I remember exactly what you have to apologize for, and I’m not going to forget. I just paid this time because I was feeling generous, but you still owe me.”

It was a little suspicious, but you didn’t have any reason to accuse him of anything, so you only narrowed your eyes at him. Taking another bite of your sandwich, you mulled over the latest reveal. He was paying for the entire lunch? You still owed him? You could manipulate that in your favor, then.

“Tomorrow morning, I’ll pay for your breakfast,” you said. “The hotel I’m staying at has complimentary breakfast for guests, but outsiders can eat for a certain fee. I’ll pay for your entrance, and then we can be even.”

“Sure,” he said. “I eat breakfast early, though.”

“How early?” you said.

“I have a snack at 7:00 a.m., before I go for my morning run, and then I eat a proper meal afterwards,” he said.

“Oh!” you said. “Any chance you could not do that?”

“It’s part of my training regimen,” he said. “How about you pay for my food and come on my run with me?”

“I hate running,” you said.

“You’re apologizing. It’s supposed to be an agonizing process,” he said. “You’ve called me short and ugly at least three separate times already, not to mention the entire slamming into me ordeal. It’s really the least you can do.”

“7:00 it is,” you said, though you were fighting back tears at the mere thought of getting up so early while on vacation. “Give me your phone.”

“No way,” he said, holding the phone away from you while you tried to swipe at it. “What are you going to do, post something embarrassing on my social media accounts?”

“Why would I do that?” you said. “I was going to text myself so I had your number and could send you my location for tomorrow.”

“Or you could tell me which hotel you’re staying at now, and then my phone is entirely removed from the equation,” he suggested.

“Do you think I remember the name?” you said. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I don’t.”

He handed you his phone with an aggravated huff. “Fine. Don’t abuse the privilege. I only give important people my contact information.”

“Woah, you really are stingy,” you said, scrolling through his contacts list. All of them either had the designation of work attached to their profiles, or they were clearly members of Sae’s family.

Clicking on the plus sign in the corner, you created a new contact for yourself, typing in your number and giving yourself the name Y/N L/N — sandwich. It fit the naming conventions he had going on, and if it weren’t for the reminder that you were the so-called ‘sandwich girl’, you doubted he would remember who you were in the first place.

“Of course I am. Imagine I gave every crazy fan I met my number. I’d have a million stalkers before you could say Re Al,”he said.

“I’m not a crazy fan. To clarify, I’m not a fan in the first place,” you said, texting yourself from his number before taking out your own phone and responding to the message with a thumbs up.

“Correct, which is why you get my number,” he said.

“I feel so honored,” you said dryly. “Actually, you know what? I would feel honored, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re only giving it to me because you want to wake me up at an unholy hour and make me run with you before paying for your breakfast.”

“Would you rather pay for this meal?” he said, showing you the receipt he had been emailed. Your eyes widened, and then you shook your head rapidly.

“Nope! See you tomorrow!”

The next morning, you tiptoed around the hotel room as you got ready, trying your best not to wake your mother up. She, and the rest of your family, had been up late last night, going out for dinner and dessert well past your bedtime. Far too embarrassed to tell them the realreason you were going to sleep early, you had said you were sick and went to bed as soon as the sun set.

Angrily gnawing on a granola bar from your mother’s emergency stash, you stomped down the spiraling hotel staircase, your eyes still bleary as you texted your family group chat that you were going out for a morning walk but would be back for breakfast.

Sae Itoshi was waiting for you in the lobby, doing some weird stretching routine that involved pressing his foot against the wall and leaning over it. You watched him, bemused, wondering which muscles he was trying to stretch before giving up and deciding it was probably one of those pro moves that you were too uninterested and unathletic for.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you said, giving him another one of the granola bars you had taken from your mother’s backpack. “Sorry, it’s sort of smushed. It’s been in a backpack for the last few days.”

He pinched the wrapper between his forefinger and thumb, looking at the granola bar with a disgusted expression. You didn’t think it was thategregious, but according to Sae, it must have been all but an offense against humanity, as he tossed it into the trash can within seconds of having it within his grasp.

“I already ate my snack,” he said.

“Why did you throw that away? I could’ve eaten it!” you said.

“That thing had probably melted and reformed at least twice. It was most definitely radioactive. I did you a favor, so you should say thank you,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Itoshi, for protecting me from the horrors of a slightly misshapen granola bar. I’m sure that, by throwing away that still edible brick of deliciousness, you have done me a great service. Possibly, you have even saved my life. I am eternally grateful,” you said.

He snorted. “You’re terrible at groveling. No wonder you have to do all of this ridiculous stuff to apologize to me instead of just saying sorry and moving on like a normal person.”

“Look, it’s a product of my upbringing,” you said. He finished stretching and headed out of the door; you followed after him with a smile at the hotel concierge, who seemed surprised to watch you go — whether it was the hour or your company, you weren’t sure. “Whenever my parents did something to upset me, they never apologized. They just came to my room with a bowl of fruit they had cut for me.”

“At least you got fruit,” he said. “My parents just told me to go practice soccer until I had cooled off.”

“Wow, really? That’s hardcore,” you said. Sae began to jog, and you did the same, though it was closer to a run for you than anything. “Did you just kick around the ball until you were less mad?”

“Pretty much,” he said.

“How horrible,” you said.

“Eh, it’s fine. It was a good way to get my anger out, and it had the added benefit of making me better at the sport, so it was pretty constructive overall,” he said.

“I still can’t imagine it,” you said, shaking your head. “What’s it like, being a professional athlete? Your entire life revolves around a game. What about when you can’t play anymore? When you’re too old, or if you get injured?”

His upper lip curled. “Do you want that to happen or something? Why are you speaking it into existence?”

“Not the injury part, but everyone grows old. You can’t stop that,” you said.

“I’ll play for as long as I can, and then I’ll coach for longer,” he said. “After that, I’ll retire and make sure my kids follow in my footsteps. Athletes make a lot of money, so I luckily won’t ever have to worry much about my finances.”

“What if your kids don’t want to play soccer?” you said. He actually sneered this time, the expression at home on his cold face.

“What else would they do with themselves? If they don’t want to play soccer, or if they have no talent at it, then they’re definitely not my children in the first place,” he said.

“Hm, maybe cooking? What if they want to be a chef?” you said.

“Then I’d wonder how your kids snuck into my house,” he said. You gasped, though it was as much for breath as it was out of offense.

“Stop it! You just happened to catch me at a hungry time!” you said.

“Sure,” he said.

“Just entertain the hypothetical that you really did somehow father children that were into cooking instead of soccer. How would you react?” you said.

“I would put them up for adoption,” he said.

“Seriously?” you said.

“No, obviously not,” he said. “What kind of person do you think I am? Why did you actually find that to be within the realm of possibility?”

“I think you’re some kind of soccer fiend. Who knows how dedicated you are to the cause?” you said.

“Not that dedicated,” he said. “I’d be disappointed if my kids can’t play soccer, and our relationship would probably be a bit distant, as I don’t know much about anything else, but I wouldn’t disown them.”

“You don’t know much about anything besides soccer? That’s a little sad,” you said.

“Kind of,” he said.

“Do you wish you knew about other things?” you said.

“Everyone has something they specialize in. It’s not uncommon for someone to know a lot about one thing and only a little about others,” he said. “My ‘thing’ is soccer. If it wasn’t that, then it’d be something else, so if I was in the business of wishing, I’d always be unsatisfied.”

You were already panting for breath when Sae picked up the pace, though he had not so much as broken a sweat yet. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, taking in your obvious struggles, and then he made the decision to not slow down at all.

“I get it,” you said. “You’ll face no judgment from me.”

“Like I would care if you did judge me,” he said. “You’re already dying, and we haven’t even started running yet.”

“This isn’t running?” you said. “What the hell? How much faster can you even go?”

“If you think that this is anywhere near the pace of an average soccer match, then I don’t even know where to begin with you,” he said.

“You look slower on TV!”

“What, so you think I’m slow, too?”

You and Sae returned to the hotel in markedly different conditions. He wasn’t even warm, still appearing to be perfectly put together and entirely perspiration-free, smelling faintly like body soap and cologne. On the other hand, you were still trying to regain your wits about you, leaning on his shoulder so that you did not fall over from exhaustion.

“This is embarrassing for you,” he informed you as you walked towards the breakfast area.

“You’re a professional athlete and I’m a normal girl! It would be embarrassing for you if I could keep up!” you argued weakly.

“That would be true, if I wasn’t going easy on you,” he said, pulling out a chair for you and helping you into it, brushing his arm off when he was sure you were seated. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Be right back.”

“Have fun,” you said, resting your head in your hands, already knowing what you wanted to get. “We can walk through the buffet together. I’ll take the time to recover.”

“You do that,” he said.

While he was gone, you opened your phone, catching up on all of the texts in the family group chat that you hadn’t been able to read while you were attempting to run with Sae.

me: going for a morning walk but i’ll be back for breakfast

me: just wanted to let you all know so you weren’t worried!

uglier sibling: yeah nobody was worried LMFAO

mom: Hope you’re feeling better, honey!

dad: Make sure you’re back before 10. That’s when the complimentary breakfast ends, and we’re not paying for overpriced toast with jam.

uglier sibling: i still can’t believe u went for a morning walk

uglier sibling: like

uglier sibling: since when do u voluntarily wake up in the mornings at all let alone leave ur bed LET ALONE TAKE A WALK

uglier sibling: bitches will meet sae itoshi one time and suddenly they’re fitness influencers or wtvr

uglier sibling: btw i’m still mad that u didn’t get his autograph or a photo with him or anything

uglier sibling: i bet u made it up

uglier sibling: LIAR. FRAUD. HACK.

mom: Honey, leave your sister alone. Why would she make something like that up?

dad: Your mother is right. Y/N doesn’t even know who Sae Itoshi is.

So it was a typical conversation, then. You hadn’t missed much; just your brother being salty and your parents showing some care for your well-being, as well as your father worrying for his wallet like he was prone to do. You didn’t even bother responding, just liking your father’s two messages and then putting your phone away.

“Y/N, you’re back already? What good timing!” your father called out to you from the entrance to the hotel restaurant. The world slowed as you turned to see the rest of your family walking into the restaurant, dressed in their typical touristy outfits. Your mother waved at you, and your brother faked gagging.

“Wow, you look like shit,” he said. “The fuck kinda morning walk were you on?”

“Gross, it’s you,” you said. “Go away! I’m busy.”

“You don’t even have any food with you,” he pointed out. “Can I sit with you? The parents are way too chipper in the mornings.”

“No!” you said.

“But there’s an empty seat at your table. Are you saving it for someone?” he said.

“Yes,” you said, wishing that for once they would’ve all slept in instead of getting here at the exact time that you and Sae had.

“No, you’re not,” he said.

“Come on, you two, let’s sit together and have a family breakfast!” your father said, motioning you and your brother over from where he and your mother had settled at a four-person table. Your brother gave you a pleading look.

“I’ll owe you forever,” he said. “I’ll grind on all of your video games for you the entire plane ride home!”

“I’m not lying, dude, I actually am sitting with someone. Now fuck off and leave me alone!” you hissed.

“Who?” he said, crossing his arms. “Your imaginary friend? Or your imaginary boyfriend!”

“Excuse me? Sorry, I was sitting there. Do you mind—?”

The most comical expression you had ever seen flashed over your brother’s face just then. It was horror mixed with incredulity mixed with extreme confusion. He turned slowly, his jaw dropping as he made eye contact with Sae Itoshi, whose dry countenance and perfect posture were as off-putting as ever.

“What?” your brother said. “What is going on?”

Sae sat opposite you. “This hotel has the most confusing first floor layout I’ve ever encountered. It took me ages just to find the bathroom.”

“There’s signs. Can you not read?” you said. He stared at you dully.

“I can read. I just happened not to look up at them,” he said.

“If I didn’t want to pay for even more food, I’d make another short joke, but I shall refrain,” you said.

“That was cutting it close,” he said.

“Y/N. My beautiful, amazing, wonderful older sister,” your brother said.

“Yes?” you said, preparing yourself for the incoming explosion. “Also, that’s not what you were calling me in the group chat earlier, was it?”

“Is that Sae Itoshi?” he said.

“Liar, fraud, hack, was that what it was?” you said. “Run along, loser. Maybe if you were nicer to me, I’d let you sit with us.”

Your brother opened his mouth to argue, but then, like he had remembered he was standing in front of his idol, he hung his head and trudged off, scuffing his toes against the floor as he did and giving you a betrayed look over his shoulder.

“That’s your little brother?” Sae said.

“Yup,” you said. “Your self-proclaimed biggest fan.”

“And you made him go sit with your parents instead of talking to me? You’re super mean, big sister,” Sae said.

“He wouldn’t shut up if I let him stay here, and considering the goal of this is for you to eat and then leave me alone for the rest of my vacation, that would not be conducive,” you said.

“I see,” he said. “I didn’t realize that was the goal.”

“Isn’t it yours, as well? I’m sure you’d like to enjoy yourself on your time off from soccer,” you said.

“Who says I’m not enjoying myself?” he said. You furrowed your brow at him.

“You’ve had the same expression on your face every time we’ve spoken,” you pointed out, lowering your eyelids and pursing your lips in an imitation of his resting mien. “Like this. It’s totally amphibious.”

“Amphibious?” he repeated. “What does that even mean?”

“You don’t know what amphibious means? Man, when you said you only focused on soccer, I didn’t think it was this bad!” you said.

“I know what amphibious means! I just don’t see how the word applies,” he said.

“Oh, right. Well, you kind of look like the frog emoji,” you said. “Sorry, I could’ve been clearer. That’s my bad.”

“Were you dropped on the head as a baby? I’m asking this from a place of concern, not anger,” Sae said. “It’s because you say so many nonsensical things. After all, I look nothing like the frog emoji.”

“Sure, and people tell me I look like a famous actress,” you said.

“Really?” he said.

“No, I thought we were both saying things that aren’t true,” you said.

“I think you look like a famous actress,” he said. “There. Now we’re both saying things that are true.”

“Well done, Mr. Itoshi! That was clever,” you said, knowing when to concede.

“Thank you,” he said. “Let’s go get our food now. If you die of starvation on my watch, it’ll be a major scandal for Re Al.”

“Your manager must love you,” you said. “So conscientious of your public image.”

“Nope, he’s usually pretty pissed at me,” he said as the two of you got in the buffet line.

“What for?” you said.

“Contrary to what you think, I’m pretty unconcerned with my public image. I’m a soccer player, not some kind of philanthropist or actor or whatever,” he said. “What does it matter if I offend people? My value is in playing well, not being friendly or kind.”

“No one ever accused you of being either of those two,” you said, spreading butter and jam over your toast. “You’re not that bad, though.”

“You’re not that bad, either,” he said. “At least, you’re better company than my manager.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you said. He scoffed.

“You have low standards,” he said.

“Yours are lower,” you said.

“Very mature response.”

“Thanks!”

Sae was a pretty agreeable breakfast partner. He wasn’t as impossibly cheerful as your parents, who generally drove you crazy with their talkativeness so early in the day, but he also wasn’t as silent and closed off as your brother, who was prone to snapping at others until he had finished at least half of his meal. As with lunch yesterday, it was almost an enjoyable experience, right up until you remembered whose card he was eating on.

“Where are you going?” he said when your plates had been cleared and you had pushed yourself to your feet. He followed after you as you made your way to the hostess’s station, ignoring the whispers that echoed behind the two of you.

“To pay for you to be here, duh,” you said, fishing around in your purse for your wallet. “I know you’re famous and all, but that doesn’t mean you get to eat for free. In fact, that was kind of the point of the meal.”

“I already paid for myself, so you can go and sit back down with your family if you’d like,” he said.

“What? When?” you said.

“I wouldn’t spend that long in a bathroom,” he said. “Not a public one.”

“You little—! Now what?” you said.

“Now you have to see me tomorrow,” he said. “Bye. I’ll pick you up for dinner, so make sure to wear something nice, and bring your credit card. It’s your treat.”

He walked off with a jaunty wave, leaving you standing there, confounded by the development. He had paid for himself again? What was the point of making you take him places if he was just going to cough up the cash himself anyways?

“Psst. Y/N,” your brother said. You weren’t sure when or where he had appeared, but it remained that he was suddenly tapping you on the shoulder and whispering in your ear. “Does Sae Itoshi have a crush on you? If so, please ask if he can get tickets for dad and I to attend his next game.”

“What?” you said, a shockwave running through your entire body at the mere thought of Sae having a crush on you. It was so juvenile and cliched as to be out of Sae’s character entirely. “No! I just owe him.”

“For what?” your brother said.

“I ran into him, called him ugly, and said that he was short,” you said. “Indirectly, of course, but it still happened. I was supposed to buy him lunch yesterday as an apology, but then he ended up paying for us both, and then today, I went on a run with him, and I was going to pay for him to have breakfast here, but guess what?”

“He paid for himself?” your brother said.

“He paid for — yeah, how did you know?” you said.

“There weren’t that many ways the story could’ve gone. Also, I overheard you guys talking,” he said.

“Creep,” you said.

“Weirdo,” he said.

“Freak,” you said.

“Stupid,” he said. “I bet he has a crush on you.”

“Why would he? We have zero common interests, and I’ve mostly only insulted him in our very short time knowing one another,” you said.

“Maybe he’s into that. Some guys are. My one friend is — actually, I’m not exposing him like that,” he said.

“Thank you, because I really didn’t want to know,” you said.

“Anyways, where I was going with that is some guys like girls who humble them a bit. Especially someone like Sae Itoshi; he’s probably so used to people falling all over themselves to get his attention that it’s nice for him to hang out with someone who’s too oblivious to care about that kind of stuff,” he said.

“People like you?” you said. “I told him you were his biggest fan, just so you know.”

“Why would you do that?” your brother said, his eyes bugging out and his mouth forming a pained grimace. “He probably thinks I’m a nerd now!”

“You do it to yourself, buddy,” you said. “Let’s go. It looks like the parents want us to go sit with them. Think you can handle it?”

“After learning that my hero has a crush on my sister and, furthermore, probably thinks of me as some kind of dweeb, I can handle anything,” he said.

The entire day, you pondered your brother’s words. Did Sae have a crush on you? Running through his actions and every conversation you both had ever had led you to think that he did not. It didn’t seem like he liked you very much in even a platonic sense, so how could anyone begin to think he liked you romantically? It was just tolerance for the sake of his pride, that was all.

And you definitely didn’t like him. He was emotionless and conceited and teased you far too often. What did it matter that he was somewhat attractive? He had a terrible personality, and you bet that if more of his fans knew what he was like, he wouldn’t have any to begin with.

No wonder Sae’s manager hated him. He was probably a jerk to his poor employees, too.

“We’re thinking of going here for dinner tonight,” your father said the next day. “Look, their reviews are pretty high, and their prices aren’t crazy. What does everyone think?”

“I’m fine with anything,” your mother said.

“Same here,” your brother said.

“Y/N?” your father said. You were about to respond when your own phone buzzed. You knew exactly who it was texting you, and you sighed as you opened it.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): I will be there in one hour.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): You better not have forgotten about our plans for tonight.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): I made a reservation, so I’ll really be mad if you stand me up.

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): Especially because you’re paying.

me: I WILL BE THERE OMFG STOP TEXTING ME

sae itoshi (dumb haircut): Okay.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Why not? Are you on some new diet or something? They should have vegetarian options, so that won’t be a problem,” your father said. “We can look at their menu beforehand if you prefer, and if you really don’t like anything, then we can find somewhere else.”

“I already have plans,” you said, your lower lip jutting out childishly. “Not that I want to! But I made a promise.”

“You already have plans? What’s that supposed to mean?” your mother said.

“I’m having dinner with someone,” you said.

“Ooh, how exciting! With who?” she said.

“I bet I can guess!” your brother sang.

“Enough out of you!” you said, kicking him in the back of the leg. He doubled over, though that did not stop him from smirking at you.

“Y/N and Sae, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” he said.

“You’re going out with Sae Itoshi?” your father said. “You should’ve just said so! That’s perfectly alright, honey. Actually, he’s the one man I’m not upset about you dating!”

“We are not dating!” you said. “It’s a more transactional relationship than that. No feelings involved. It’s just me apologizing to him.”

“Are you close enough to him to get an autograph for your brother and I?” your dad said.

“Um.” You thought about it. Would Sae give you an autograph for them? You weren’t sure. There was a chance he would, but there was also a high chance he would not. “I dunno. I can ask.”

“You’ll ask for dad, but not for me? Wow, I see how it is,” your brother said.

“Yeah, because you’re annoying!” you said. “Ugh. I have to get ready now. He’ll be here to get me in an hour. Have fun at dinner, all of you. Keep me in your thoughts and prayers.”

“You have fun as well,” your mother said. “Make sure not to bring any money with you. Gentlemen should always pay on the first date.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that,” you said, giving up on explaining things to your family for the sake of your sanity.

Sae was aggressively punctual. Exactly an hour after he had texted you, a shiny black car was pulling up in the valet lane, and a tall, bald man in a suit was opening the door for you. You climbed in awkwardly, finding Sae to be sitting on the other side, gazing out of the window pensively.

“Hello,” you said, smoothing your dress and buckling your seatbelt. “You have a driver?”

“Of course I do,” he said. “I usually walk places when I’m on vacation, but this restaurant is kind of far, so I thought it’d be more prudent to have the driver take us.”

“I see,” you said. “Thank you, driver, sir.”

The driver hummed in acknowledgement but did not say anything else. You supposed he probably wasn’t used to talking with his passengers; you doubted Sae ever spoke to him much.

“It’s been so hot out recently,” Sae said stiffly.

“That’s what happens during the summer, yes,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said.

“You’re right, though,” you said. “It has been hot.”

“Super hot,” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “Super hot.”

That must’ve been why there was a slight redness to his cheeks. There was definitely no other reason. And there wasn’t any other reason for why you felt uncomfortably warm, shifting in your seat to dissipate the feeling in your stomach. It was the temperature. That was all.

Given the trend, you really should have anticipated it when Sae paid for your dinner while you were freshening up in the bathroom, but you really had not seen it coming in the slightest. He scrunched up his face when you argued, simply telling you that he would see you tomorrow before dropping you back off at your hotel, the receipt in your hand, his flourishing signature scrawled across the back.

“For your brother,” he had said, handing it to you before you could even ask him for his autograph. “You said he was a fan, right? I’ll get him a better one later, but for now, this should do.”

You spent every day of the rest of that vacation with Sae Itoshi. Some days, you would accompany him on a morning walk — he had softened to slowing his pace, so that he was only barely jogging instead of the full on run that he had forced you into that first time — and on others, the two of you would have some meal or another together. The common theme was that, if there was money involved, he would take care of it. Without question, without hesitation, he always slapped your hand back and pulled out his own credit card, telling you that now you both had to meet again, and the next time you really would be the one paying, or else he’d never be able to forgive you for your terrible behavior.

Your parents and brother complained about it at first, as your new friendship with Sae — could it be considered a friendship, or was it something else? — meant you did not see them much on what was supposed to be a family vacation.

You brought it up with Sae, and he responded with something about how it wouldn’t have been a problem at all if you weren’t such a freeloader and actually paid for him, like you were supposed to. This resulted in a lighthearted squabble between you both, which in turn made you forget your family’s whining, and as well you should have. You could take a million more vacations with them, but you’d likely never get a chance to hang out with Sae Itoshi again, so why wouldn’t you take advantage of it when you could?

Sae didn’t forget, though. He sent you back from dinner the next evening with a soccer ball he had won in one of his games, his signature and a note of gratitude scribbled on it in black marker.

Thank you for letting me borrow your daughter and sister from you while you’re on your trip. I really appreciate it, even if she doesn’t know anything about soccer. — Sae Itoshi

They stopped complaining after that. The ball became your brother’s most prized possession, and every day, your father would tell you how happy he was that you had made such a considerate friend.

“And you know, if you ever want to date him,” he’d say, elbowing you in the side with an obnoxious wink. “We wouldn’t be opposed!”

Your mother was in the same boat. “He really cares about you, I think. Enough that he gave your family something so precious just because he thought we didn’t like him. You could do a lot worse than that.”

“Plus, he’s rich and famous!” your brother would chime in without fail. “Double win!”

“You guys are all nuts,” you’d tell them, shaking your head to disguise how pleased the thought of dating Sae made you.

It could never happen. Like your brother was so happy to remind you, he was rich and famous, an athlete that was adored worldwide and played for the best soccer club in history. He could have any girl he wanted, so why would he ever choose you? You and he were from two different planes of existence. Maybe you could pretend for a little bit that you weren’t, but the date for your eventual departure from Spain was drawing closer and closer, and that day meant the certain end of the fever dream that was your closeness with Sae.

You had been prepared from the start for it to finish in this way. You would go home and tell all of your friends about your trip, how you had spent almost every day with the famous soccer player Sae Itoshi, how he had given you his phone number and made you go on runs with him, how together, you and him had eaten lunch and dinner and breakfast and several meals that you were convinced he had just made up to have an excuse to buy food for the two of you — brunch, linner, midnight snacks and third desserts.

There were other things that you wouldn’t tell them, too, things that Sae had not necessarily said to you in confidence but which you sensed were held close to his heart and which you would therefore hold close to yours. His little brother was named Rin, and they had the same eyes, though Rin’s were quicker to water and perpetually had hair falling into them. He still watched the same shows he used to when he was very small, because they reminded him of his parents’ home. He thought that a person’s athletic potential could be determined by the shape of their butt, but he tended to avoid looking as a form of respect for others.

“That’s a pretty cool skill, Sae! What do you think my athletic potential is?” you had asked when he had revealed that last fact.

“If it’s possible for a person to have negative potential, then that’s about what yours is. If it’s not, then you’re definitely at a zero,” he had responded.

“You didn’t even look,” you had said, shoving a French fry into his mouth as punishment. He hated French fries for how unhealthy they were, and you had half-expected him to lecture you about fats and oils and salts, but instead, he had dutifully chewed and swallowed without any theatrics.

“Don’t need to, and don’t plan to,” he had said, and that was that. “I’ve already seen you run, and that told me all I needed to know about your athletic skills. Or, in this case, your lack thereof.”

If you took his words at face value, then you would’ve thought he truly hated you. He never missed a chance to make fun of you, and you were the same way — certainly, anyone who overheard your conversations would’ve been convinced that you and he were bitter enemies. But that was because they didn’t see the way he always positioned himself on the sidewalk so that he was between you and the oncoming traffic. They didn’t see the way he’d pull out your chair and only pretend to frown when you’d thank him for it. They didn’t see the way his ears would turn pink if you dared to smile in his direction or, heaven forbid, agreed with what he was saying instead of arguing, as was your go-to.

No, you were pretty confident that Sae Itoshi did not hate you. It was just that soccer was his thing and all other areas were beyond him, areas which included such fields as emotional awareness and sensitivity.

Maybe you might tell the friends you were particularly close to about that. Sae Itoshi treated me pretty well, you’d say, with grand, sweeping hand motions to emphasize the point. As well as he knew how to, which was well enough for me. If I ever get a boyfriend, they’ll have a lot to live up to. Seems kind of unfair to whatever poor schmuck gets stuck with the task, don’t you think? Considering the two of us never even dated…

“I'm going home tomorrow morning,” you said. The sun was setting, and the two of you were walking along the same stretch of beach that you had first met at. “I finished packing all of my things before dinner. It’s surreal, almost. I feel like an entirely different person now, compared to when I came here.”

“Is that so?” he said, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. “I wonder why.”

“Did you just smile?” you said. Immediately, he scowled.

“No way,” he said. “I’d never smile because of something you said.”

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, you definitely smiled. I made you smile! I made you smile! I made you smile!” you said, poking him in the cheek repeatedly. Sae’s expressions were so subtle that it was easy to overlook them before they had vanished, but there was no overlooking what you had just seen. He had definitely smiled at you, or at least he had been about to.

“Stop poking me,” he grumbled.

“No,” you said, poking him again. “Only if you smile again.”

“Hell no,” he said. You poked his cheek again. “Y/N. Stop it.”

“Will you miss me?” you said.

“Not if you don’t quit that!” he said, grabbing your wrist when you prepared to poke him again. Heat rose to your cheeks at the way his thumb rested against your pulse, and when he realized he was holding your hand so familiarly, his own cheeks flushed. “No. I won’t.”

“I’ll miss you,” you said, digging your feet into the sand, turning out to the sea because you couldn’t stand to look at him when you were being so vulnerable. “I’ll tell everyone I know about you, of course, but it won’t be the same. Something funny will happen, and I’ll think to myself, oh, Sae would’ve snorted at that — but not laughed, because you don’t laugh. Or I’ll order shitty French fries, and it’ll remind me of how much you’d scold me for eating them. You’d say something like, those are basically heart attacks in a box, and then you’d pour a bottle of salted kombucha down my throat to cleanse my system.”

Somewhere in the distance, a seagull squawked, reminding you of the fateful encounter from so long ago. You wished you could go back and get to know Sae all over again. You wished you could ask him the same questions and not know the answers, so that you were surprised when he told them to you. You wished you could argue with him for a little bit longer. You wished that, one more time, you could imply he was short and ugly and slow and a thousand other rude adjectives, even if he was really none of those things, none of them at all.

“I’m going to ask you one last question, okay?” you said. “Please think over your answer carefully. It’s important.”

“Okay,” he said, uncharacteristically gently. “I’ll really consider it well.”

“What’s your favorite animal?” you said.

“Seagulls,” he said immediately, directly contradicting his solemn oath. You laughed at this, burying your face in your hands to hide the hitch in your throat.

“You traitor,” you said. “You know all about the feud between seagulls and I, and yet you’re still claiming they’re your favorites?”

“They always have been,” he said. “I like migratory birds, how they don’t stay in one place but are always moving around. It must be such a blissful life.”

“But it’s probably pretty lonely, too,” you said. “They don’t have anywhere to call home.”

“I like lonely things,” he said. “That’s why the end of the summer is my favorite season.”

“Hm,” you said. “Then, if I tell you that I’ll be lonely once I leave here, will you like me, too?”

He looked at you, but you stared resolutely ahead, your gaze trained on the horizon, the way his had been on the day you had run into him. It was such a kiddish question, and internally, you were beating yourself up for asking it, but deep down, you wanted to know, so you did not move to retract it.

“Well, I like seagulls for a different reason now,” he said.

So that was your answer, then. The waves crashed against the shore, and a balmy wind blew through your hair and clothes, carrying the light scent of Sae’s cologne to your nose, the same one he had worn for as long as you could remember.

“I understand,” you said.

“These days, it’s a specific seagull I’m fond of, actually,” he said.

“Huh? Like a breed or something?” you said.

“No, just one bird in particular,” he said. “It did me a really huge favor recently.”

“What are you talking about? You always say that you suspect I was dropped on the head as a baby, but between the two of us, I think the one that was dropped was you,” you said, the fraying ends of your rejected feelings driving you to irascibility.

“A while ago, I was standing on the beach, feeling pretty annoyed with the world — as usual,” he said. “I had had to run from the paparazzi in order to go on this vacation without being bothered, you know, and I honestly was starting to question if I’d ever be seen as a normal person. I get that the only thing I’m good at is soccer, but it’s pretty tiring to be thought of as a guy who kicks balls around and nothing more.”

Unbidden, you inhaled sharply, because the story was starting to sound familiar. Spinning on your heel, you were met with the sight of Sae smiling shyly, peering down at you through his unfairly long eyelashes.

“That seagull must’ve known how I was feeling. There’s no other explanation for it all. It must’ve known how I was feeling, and somehow, it managed to find the one person in the entire world that saw me as something other than that. Do you know what it did next? It stole that person’s sandwich, and it led her right to me,” he said.

“Are you talking about me?” you said.

“How many people do you think have called me a short, ugly, D-list celebrity instead of asking for my autograph upon meeting me?” he said.

“Probably not very many,” you said. He chuckled.

“Probably not any,” he said. You rested your forehead against his shoulder.

“Probably not,” you said. He stroked your hair, though his motions were like a marionette’s — he was not very used to this type of relationship, after all. But he was trying his best, and you found that to be far more endearing than any suave gestures might’ve been.

“I know you have to go soon, so I was planning on not saying anything,” he said. “What would be the point? I figured this was just a summer fling for you. But then you had to go and be all sentimental, and I had to say something.”

“I’m glad you did,” you said. “It would’ve been worse if I had returned home without knowing at all. Where do we go from here, though?”

“Where do we go from here? Let me think. Well, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend,” he said. “And you’ll say yes, because who would ever reject me? Then we’ll talk on the phone every day, and you can send me photos of things you find funny, and I’ll have a sixth sense for when you’re eating French fries and I’ll send you strongly worded texts in reprimand. You’ll fly over to watch my matches whenever possible, and when I’m on my next break, I’ll come visit you and meet your family and friends properly.”

“Getting a little presumptuous, aren’t we? What if I say no?” you said.

“Will you?” he said.

“Not sure. How about you ask and find out?” you said.

“If you’re going to say no, then I don’t want to,” he said. You stuck your tongue out at him.

“I can’t be with a man who’s afraid of rejection. It was nice knowing you, Sae,” you said. “See you around. Hope you lose the Champions League.”

“Wait! I’m not afraid of rejection,” he said. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend? Officially, I mean.”

“Yes, of course,” you said. “But you’re going to have to buy my plane tickets if you want me to watch you. Even with frequent flier miles, I doubt I can afford coming to see you that often.”

“Consider it done,” he said. You grinned at him.

“You know, if you’re my boyfriend, then you’re going to have to keep paying for our dates, as well. My mother said that’s the gentlemanly thing for you to do,” you said.

“Right, I was expecting that,” he said. “Don’t you think there’s a reason why I haven’t let you buy anything yet?”

“Then how am I ever supposed to apologize to you for the circumstances of our first meeting? I mean, I was pretty harsh,” you said.

“That’s true,” he said. “Let me think.”

“Mhm,” you said. “I know that that’s out of your comfort zone, so I’ll give you a minute.”

“I have an idea,” he said, though it was accompanied by a slight glare at your jab.

“What is it?” you said.

“Close your eyes,” he said. You obliged, squeezing them shut, though not without widening your feet into the defensive stance he had demonstrated to you on the day he had attempted to teach you basic soccer skills.

“What are you going to do, tackle me or something? I’m using the position you taught me, but please be gentle, you’re way more muscular than—!”

You were cut off by him pressing his lips to yours. It was a soft kiss, gentle and light, like feathers in the air or water against the sand, and he pulled away before you could really react or reciprocate. He had left you wanting, and you knew he knew that, because there was a smugness to his voice when he spoke next.

“Apology accepted,” he said as you blinked at him in shock, your mind still lagging well behind your body. “Now we’re even.”

“Hold on,” you said. “I’m suddenly feeling very repentant and remorseful. Are you quite sure you forgive me with just that?”

He laughed. It was such a lovely sound, his laugh, and you would’ve told him so if you weren’t afraid that he’d stop when you pointed it out.

“Maybe not,” he said. “You might have to apologize a bit more.”

“That sounds doable,” you said. “Yeah, I might be able to work that in. It’ll be agonizing, but a wise man once told me that that’s just the nature of apologizing, so it’s the least I can do, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, holding your face in his hands and leaning in. You did the same, your eyes closing all on their own as you sought out the connection he had deprived you of earlier.

As the sun set over the horizon and the seagulls settled in for the night, he kissed you again.

#sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #modern au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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awellposhmagazine · 2 days

Note

❛ if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up. ❜

yelling at you so loud do with this what u will

- Lena xx

there are very few people who would dare to call matty past midnight, and even fewer that could expect an answer.

you hope, while the phone rings over and over, that you’re one of them.

seconds before his voicemail, he picks up. you feel like you could cry little a bit.

“why the fuck - are you ringin’ me in the middle of the night?” his voice is rougher than usual. over the sounds of the city, you can hear the rustle of sheets through the phone.

“if you called just to get off on my voice, i’m hanging up-"

“can i come to yours, please?”

a pause. his voice is softer now. “uh- yeah, i s’pose. what’s happening?”

“don't wanna go home - 's so cold and lonely and i can’t stand it. please, matthew.”

“already said yes, darlin'. are you in town?”

“how’d you know?”

“well - ‘s midnight, for starters. and you only call me matthew when you’re on the piss.”

you smile, forgetting he can’t see it through the phone.

“i’ll get you an uber, yeah? gimme five minutes.”

“yeah, alright. thanks.”

twenty minutes and a car ride spent trying to hold in your sick later, matty answers the door. he’s in tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt with a hole by the neckline. you can’t tell if its from wear or he’s bought it that way. you wouldn’t put it past him. he looks exhausted, and guilt makes tears well up in your eyes again.

he doesn’t seem to like that; brows knitting into a gentle frown as he reaches forwards and ushers you inside. he looks so warm and soft and his eyes are all puffy from sleep - you’re hit with the sudden urge to lurch forward and stick your tongue down his throat.

“go take my bed, yeah?” he starts, leading you through the doorway and into the hall with a hand at your elbow. your whole body goes hot with the feel of him, like you’re trying to sweat out a fever.

the thought of yet another set of cold, empty sheets makes your stomach churn.

“no - stay. stay with me, please? i’m not making a move, honest. i just. don’t wanna be alone.”

the lovely frown that adorns his features deepens a little further. “alright, if y’ sure. just don’t be sick in my hair or something.”

you nod and try to laugh, but it comes out a bit more like a sob.

you make it to the bedroom with matty at your arm, and he helps you get off your ridiculous shoes. the rest of your going-out clothes are next, but you manage those by yourself in the bathroom in favor of one of matty’s obscure band tees.

it’s not until you’re settled in bed beside him with a good twenty centimeters between you that he speaks again.

“gonna tell me what’s got you all fucked up?”

“wasn’t planning on it. thought i’d just pass out and wrestle back my dignity in the morning.”

“good luck with that.”

another beat of silence. headlights illuminate the window.

“why'd you ring me, anyway? should be a boyfriend type call."

“well. what type are you?”

“you’re pissed. don’t bait me.”

he turns over and its quiet again.

“matty?”

“mm?”

“can we talk about it? when i’m not pissed?”

your heart sits tender in the space between you, ready to be popped like a helium balloon.

“just - go t’ sleep, and if you still wanna talk about it when you wake up, i’ll show you what type i intend to be. alrigh'?”

the room doesn’t seem so cold anymore.

“alright."

#made myself hate this by staring at it too long but thanks ily xx #matty healy x reader #matty healy fic

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loveandmurders · 2 days

Text

The Sun of Ambrose II (Sinclair daughter!reader)

Hello everyone, this is the second part of a new Sinclair!daughter AU in which the reader is Bo's daughter and she has been taken away and adopted by a new family.

This is the direct continuation of this.

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings : No proof reading, angst, mentions of a boy groping, touching and wanting to rape reader, killer!reader, violence, blood, anger, manipulation.

Your grandfather and grandmother were killers.

Your father and uncles were killers.

Even if you didn’t know about all of this yet, it was written in your blood, in your DNA. You were born to be a killer too. You were born with this rage and with this skill. You were born to be something else than just normal.

You weren’t a lost little girl anymore.

You were 16.

You were doing your best to have the life your adoptive parents wanted you to have; you were good at school, you had friends, you were going out to parties. You were mute so things could sometimes be a bit difficult, but you were enjoying watching people in silence. You knew everyone’s secrets and dramas. You knew people’s weaknesses and desires.

So you knew when John came to greet you one morning, he didn’t have good intentions towards you.

“Hello sweetheart. It’s been a little while since I've noticed you. We’re in the same maths class by the way. You remember me?” he said and you nodded to let him know you did remember him. He brightly smiled “Awesome. So, my friends are organising a party on Friday night and I’d love you to come with me” he offered.

You licked your lips and leaned into your seat, wondering what to do. He was towering over you and everything in his gestures showed he was acting like a predator. He probably thought that since you were mute, you would be a very easy prey.

You weren’t too happy to put yourself into danger, but at the same time you were bored out of your mind and your parents would be happy if you would go out with a boy. It would be another proof that you were settling in your life and that everything was going alright. And as long as you were wearing your sun necklace, you weren’t afraid for yourself.

You finally nodded again and his smile turned into a smirk.

“Brillant, girl. See you on Friday’s night. I’ll come get you at your place” he said before leaving.

He really wasn’t interested in you in a good way.

You neither.

Your mother was really excited for you so she helped you get ready for what she was calling a “date”. You dolled up like you were supposed to before leaving the house without feeling anything. Your parents reminded you to be careful.

Little did they know that at the instant you got into John’s car, he placed his hand on your thigh and groped you. You softly pushed him and gestured for him to drive to the party, which he finally did.

You were annoyed.

Once at the party, he quickly greeted the people he knew, keeping you by his side like you keep a pet. You hated it. You started to get angry. It was a quiet anger you knew a little too well. You did everything to keep it manageable inside your heart. You couldn’t have a crisis here, in front of those people you were going to school with. You didn’t want your parents to get you to the doctors again.

You kept a smile on your face, even when he rushed you upstairs and found the closest empty bedroom he could. He hushed you inside, before locking the door behind you two.

“Ah finally alone, baby” he mused

You knew what his intentions toward you were but you weren’t afraid, you were oddly calm as you watched his every move. The fact that someone would want to hurt you and use you was making you burn with anger now. You had never felt so full of rage, and yet it was the cold madness of a killer that was taking possession of you. You knew what was going to happen, but you also knew you weren’t the prey.

Your father and uncles started to teach you how to take care of yourself, how to kill, even if they never said it was for killing. It was always to protect yourself from “the bad people of this hostile world”. You had continued to learn how to fight without your parents knowing.

And even if you had never shed blood before, you were ready. The rage was too strong to make it stay inside of you. You smiled as the boy came closer to you, clearly not realising he was the mouse, and not the cat. He touched you and you let him do it, at first.

“I knew you were going to be a good girl” he murmured to you and you hummed in answer. You gently grabbed him by the hair before your grip tightened and without a warning shot you moved to the side and brutally led his head against the wall. You hit him hard and he got disoriented. You continued to hit him over and over again.

You killed him.

You killed him violently. And you felt good, oh so good. For the first time in years, the anger quieted down and you felt like you could finally breathe.

You cleaned up the crime scene, your bloody hands and face, and his body before leaving it where it was. Your black dress was hiding the blood stains littering it but you knew you would need to burn it down once you would be back home. You went downstairs to dance with the others, as if nothing had happened.

The body was found only when everyone thought it was time to go to sleep.

Of course the police interrogated you, but they couldn’t believe that such an innocent looking girl, who went through so much in her life already and was hence very soft, could have killed someone with such hatred. Your parents were so relieved nothing happened to you, not realising you were the danger.

No one even found out who killed John.

And you found this very exciting.

So you continued to kill.

You realised you were very good at it, as if it was a gift running through your veins. Whenever you felt anger, you left your house at night for a “little walk”. You would easily find a new prey; anyone was good enough for it. It was also why the police couldn’t find you: there was no link between your victims, not even their profile. You killed for the sake of it, for the well being it finally gave you. You were known as the “serial killer of the shadows”. Your parents always worried when you were wandering around at night, not realising you were the danger prowling around the city.

Killing wasn’t the only joy in your life, even if it was getting a big part of it. Around the same time you murdered John, you asked your parents to take up art classes. You wanted to do sculptures, to build things with your hands. You enjoyed doing pottery a lot. It was appeasing you because you could just focus on your hands and on your art. You were very good at it, mostly because you watched Vincent making art a lot so his gestures were written inside your brain.

You started to work on wax as well. You asked your parents to buy you the materials and they agreed. They were happy you were expressing yourself through art. It was certain you were doing better now. They had no idea that you simply still wanted to be Sinclairs’ heir. You wanted to find them again one day, and to prove to them that you were the only daughter they needed. You wanted to come back home more than anything. You knew your "real" father would understand your anger. You weren’t too sure if he and your uncles were killing the tourists, but you were certain they wouldn’t judge you for your night activities. You would be free in Ambrose… You just needed to find your way back to it.

And one day, it happened.

“So, Y/N, where would you like to go during the holidays this summer?” your adoptive father asked you as you were all having dinner in the living room. You had meant to talk to them about your biological family for a quite a while now and it felt like the perfect moment.

“I want to go in the South of the country” you replied and your parents were surprised you seemed so determined about it

“Why there?” you mother hummed

“Because I come from there… I want to find where I come from. I want to find what happened to my mother… I mean I want to know if she was right about my father”, you explained

“I’m not certain this is a good idea, hon” your mother instantly replied and you pouted, disappointed but ready to fight for it

“Why not?”

“We… We haven’t told you about all the stories we heard about your family. Your mother had the time to say quite a lot about them and the fact you weren’t even officially existing for the State is proving a lot. You were a child so you probably don’t remember or didn’t understand what was going on…” she babbled

“What you mother means is that they are dangerous people and we can’t just go find him” your father added

“This is unfair. I need to know my past. If you were at my place, wouldn’t you want to know the truth?”

The discussion stopped there for the moment but a few days later, your parents offered you a deal. The plan was you would all go to the South of the country for some holidays. You would try to find the region where you came from, but you wouldn’t try to find your father. You agreed.

The problem was you didn’t know exactly where Ambrose was, but you had found your uncle Lester’s town on a map. At least you thought you remembered it was. Your mother and you found somewhere nice with a cute little hotel around the area you wanted. You hope to find your way back home… and to find your family again. You had changed quite a lot and you weren’t too sure your family would recognise you. However, you were still wearing your sun necklace.

You thought the day of the trip would never come, as you were so excited about it. You could feel in your bones that you were finally coming back home, so many years after having left it. Your parents were a little bit on edge, but they loved you too much to cancel the holidays. Your mother had a very bad feeling about all of it.

However, once on the roads, you couldn’t help but panic when the car went by on the dusty roads without going by the advertisements for the House of Wax. You remembered them by heart as you saw them quite a lot when you were in Lester’s truck. You worried you would come by close to Ambrose but not close enough. You worried you wouldn’t find your family. You worried everything was lost forever. Your adoptive parents noticed how you looked around and they asked you if you were alright.

“I come from here” you admitted to them as you signed. They exchanged a very concerned look at those words.

“Are you sure? You recognised this place? Your mother asked you in a soothing manner

“Not really, but the roads were the same when I was a child. It’s not here, but it must be in this area. My family is so close by now” you replied

“Hon… We are your family” your mother frowned

“You know what I mean… I want to see them, I want to see my dad again” you shyly signed, knowing your adoptive parents wouldn’t be happy about it. They did exchange another look, full of concern.

“We already talked about it… We want you to be safe and… your biological father didn’t seem like a good person. We don’t want you to meet up with him… and certainly not like that” your mother continued as your father stopped the car and parked.

“You don’t know him, we don’t know if my mother said the truth. He never hurt me when I was a child” you said

“You didn't know him either. What your mother did…” she trailed off

“But now we’re here, we can have a look around” your father offered to your mother’s dismay.

They argued in whispers until you left the car.

You recognised the violent heat of the sun hitting you, you recognised how silent the road was, you recognised how easy it was to get lost and in need of help here. You had to be close to Ambrose, you could feel it in your heart.

“Let's get back in the car, honey. We’ll go to the hotel we booked and we’ll talk some more about all of this. It’s understandable you want to find your father, even just out of curiosity… But you cannot just come over like that. You don’t know how he would react, what he became after you left… We need to respect a process” your mother rationalised and you were forced to agree with her.

A little voice inside your head wondered what would happen if your family didn’t recognise you? Would they kill you like they probably got rid of the tourists during your childhood?

And yet, you prayed for the car to stop working or for Lester’s truck to appear on the road. Unfortunately, you safely travelled to the hotel. You all ate at a restaurant before deciding to go to sleep and to talk about everything the day after. Your parents thought it was better to rest and have a good night sleep before doing anything. They might hope you would calm down as well.

You didn’t. You talked about finding your dad right at breakfast.

“I could find my father” you said

“It has been said that you didn’t know where you came from exactly and that you didn’t even know your father’s name.” your mother said “Did you lie about all of this? Did you try to protect him somehow?” she continued and you hated to be trapped in your own lie

“I didn’t know back then. But when I saw the roads, I remembered” you replied

“Makes sense,” your father nodded and gently smiled at you.

“I don’t like this,” your mother whined. She had always been very protective of you and she felt something was off.

“Look, darling, we’re going to find a solution for everyone to be happy.” your father continued to smile “The two of you are going to have a nice day out together and I’m going to look for your biological father. If you can just show me on the maps where he used to live… And if I can find him, I’ll talk with him and make sure he is good enough to meet with you. How does it sound?” he offered

“It’s rushed! He was a violent man, how do you know he won’t hurt you, hurt her?” your mother continued

“If you don’t have news after an hour, you’ll call the police. Y/N needs to realise who her father is to move on in her life. That’s normal. Everyone needs to know and understand where they come from. And even if it’s rushed, even if it doesn’t sound like a good plan, she needs it now. We have to try.” your father replied.

“This is too risky. We can ask for the administration to help us with this… Especially if he is a bad man. It’s indeed important but we need to take our time.” your mother argued back so you started to cry.

It was always your most efficient weapon.

It was settled then.

Your adoptive father would look for Bo Sinclair.

Part III

Taglist: @murder-hobo - @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21 ; @12gaugefalls ; @kriston1210

#house of wax (2005)#house of wax x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x daughter #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x niece #lester sinclair x niece #lester sinclair x you #slasher x daughter #slasher x you #slasher x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x niece

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vveebee · 10 hours

Text

TEASER ! Bittersweet - Park Sunghoon | p.sh

based off of teeth by enhypen

pairing: best friend's ex boyfriend!sunghoon x afab!reader word count: currently 0.6k

all works | playlist

synopsis: after the brutal breakup of your best friend, wonyoung, and the infamous park sunghoon, you couldn't help but have the urge to rip his hair out. you were aware of his status. a wealthy playboy. but that doesn't alter your perspective of him one bit. when you accidentally entangle yourself into getting paid to fulfil his needs, sunghoon began to grow accustomed to you. what happens when your best friend finds out?

genre: enemies with benefits, enemies to lovers, jake second lead TT, secret relationship, betrayal, kind of slowburn(?), angst, smut

warnings: MINORS DNI, drinking, smoking, making out, skin biting/sucking, dacryphilia, hair pulling, dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex (always use protectionnn), fingering, reader kind of gets forced into doing it, more as i go

a/n: this is my first fic that i've ever posted so i really hope you enjoy this TT

release date? tba.

parts completed? 0/?

taglist is currently OPEN !

~ if you would like to be tagged once this is released, please either reply or send an ask, though i would prefer asks <3

teaser below ! ^^ Disclaimer: It is NOT proofread.

now playing: teeth by enhypen

BUZZ.. BUZZ… God, that was probably the nth time someone tried calling you. You didn’t bother checking the caller ID, but considering the amount of times they’ve called you, it was probably some prank or scam call. Since eleven o’clock in the morning, you’ve been trying to finish off the final details of your biology project, and you have been for almost twelve hours. Obviously, you took small breaks throughout the day, whether it was coffee or some takeaway, but you didn’t have any classes today so you thought it was best to maximise your working time. You always ask yourself why exactly you ended up choosing biology for your college course.

BUZZ—You finally picked up the phone, completely fed up with its vibrating. “Hello?” You spoke, your voice implying that you were annoyed and that the caller should probably hang up. You tucked your phone in between the side of your face and shoulder so that you could still hear whilst writing.

From the other side of the line, you could hear someone sniffing, it was subtle but you were still able to make it out. In confusion, your hand stops gliding your pen across the paper, dropping it and fumbling for your phone to see who the caller ID was. Your hand grasped the device close to your face, the light rebounding off of it. Your eyes scanned the name displayed on the screen, checking who exactly was calling you.

It was Wonyoung. Your best friend.

Without wasting any more time, you brought the phone up to your ear again.. “Wonyoung? Wait— Why are you crying? Did something happen?” You asked, obviously confused as to why she was crying at this time of day. All that was audible was the sobbing and sniffing of your best friend, and all you could do was listen. “Hey, hey… Why don’t we take some deep breaths, yeah?” Knowing that she probably wasn’t able to respond, you continued to help stabilise her breathing. “Deep breath in— and breathe out,” You instructed, again and again. After Wonyoung was able to normalise her breathing, you decided that now was the best time to ask about the cause of her constant crying. “So.? What happened, Won?” You started off gently, not wanting to frighten her back into tears. “Y/n…” She spoke, “It’s Sunghoon—” Unconsciously, you cut her off again, it was a habit you needed to get rid of. “Sunghoon? You mean that rich jerk you’re dating? Did you guys fight again? Won- If you guys keep fighting then it means you need to break up!” You exclaimed, voice beaming over the phone.

There was a slight moment of silence before Wonyoung began speaking again. “That’s the thing, Y/n. We aren’t..” The words leaving her mouth have you sitting upright in your chair.

“You aren’t? Oh Won, I’m so proud of you for finally leaving him,” You said, honestly proud of your best friend for leaving a toxic relationship behind. But then you quickly remember that she was the one that was crying. “You… were the one that left him, right? Won?” Again, there was that moment of silence, but longer, so you took the hint that you were wrong. “Look, Won, he didn’t deserve you anyways, and you deserved so much better than him.” You protested in the voice you always used when you tried to lighten the mood. Luckily enough, it earned a small chuckle from the girl across the line. “I say, how about I go to the convenience store to pick up some ramyeon, and I’ll head over to yours to eat it with you. How does that sound?” The words left your mouth so fluidly as if you’ve uttered the phrase a countless amount of times. A series of subtle laughs flooded your ears, “Of course, Y/n. I’d love that.” Wonyoung agreed, you could just hear the smile on her face, happy that she was happy now. Forget about your stupid biology project, it could wait. All you needed to focus on was comforting your best friend and hating on her shameless ex.

And that’s how you started hating Park Sunghoon.

@vveebee, 2024 | Please do not copy, plagiarize or steal any of my work and claim it as your own. reblogs accepted ©

#vveebee #vveebee works #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fanfiction

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happilysmythe · 3 days

Text

❥ 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 5.0k

warning: explicit content

"can you blow my mind?" — tyla

A/N: i recently received a request for trent and a leafs fan. i was given creative freedom and this is what i came up with. hope you like it, nonny <3

- - -

Bruins win Game 7 in OT.

The headlines came out at a rapid rate, informing the rest of the world that the Boston Bruins made it out of the first round and turned the Toronto Maple Leafs into mulch. Again.

Trent Frederic, along with a few teammates, were on too much of a high to return to their rooms at the hotel they’d been staying in just yet. Though they were home in Boston, coach Jim Montgomery thought it would be smarter to have the guys stay in a hotel instead of going back to their homes and apartments. Team bonding, he said.

The bunch set off for the bar inside the hotel, only a few blocks away from TD Garden, waiting a few hours before slipping in nonchalantly. They weren’t trying to get outed too fast, and they usually didn’t. Even once they were recognized, not much came of it. Most people were too drunk by then to make a scene, anyway.

So they sat down at the bar and ordered a few beers, celebrating accordingly and talking amongst themselves. They would finally let loose for just a night before the inevitable start of round 2 in just two days. They’d be having practice the next morning and flying down to Sunrise, Florida to face the Panthers, who were on their extensive break after knocking the Lightning in just 5 games.

Trent decided he’d had enough after his fourth beer, so he left his share and stood up to make his way out. As he turned around, his body hit something with a thud. He looked down and saw what it was that he came into contact with; a thin blonde woman with her arms out, jaw slack, and an empty hand that once held her drink.

Oh, and a Maple Leafs jersey.

“Oh, shit,” Trent muttered, compressing his lips.

You scoffed, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I can get you a new one.”

You looked up, a look of guilt on your face as your hands fell back down to your sides. “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going, too—”

You paused.

“Where do I know you?”

He remained silent, shooting you a look as if to tell you that it should be obvious. It wasn’t long before your face dropped and it hit you. He suppressed a grin at your realization and parted his lips to speak.

“Name’s Trent,” he spoke smoothly, “but something tells me you already figured that out.”

“Well, you’re one of the last people I’d like to see right now,” you rolled your eyes, arms folded. “What’s a guy like you doing at some random bar at,” you looked at your watch, “12 in the morning after the game where you just knocked my team out of the playoffs?”

“Had to celebrate somehow,” he winked.

“Oh, god,” you grimaced. “I really do hate you guys.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of sunshine,” he laughed, putting his abnormally large hands on his hips. Your eyes subtly followed their path.

“Lighten up,” he teased. “C’mon. What’s your name? I know you’re not a,” he pinched the fabric of your jersey and pulled it to see the numbers, “Marner. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

You sighed at his remark and told him your name, but he made a face afterward.

“Too long.”

“Too long?”

“I think I’ll stick to Marner,” he told you, much to your dismay.

“Gross,” you replied irritatedly. “I don’t particularly feel like giving you the privilege of using a nickname. Just use my real name like everyone else. ”

“I’m all set, actually. I think I’ll stick to mine.”

“God, you’re annoying.”

“You gonna let me buy your drink or keep bitching about who I am?”

“Fine,” you sighed, “buy me the damn drink.”

He and you made your way to the other side of the bar, far enough away from the rest of the guys and the few friends you went with that you wouldn’t be noticed. You sat next to each other on the bar stools, Trent talking your ear off and you reluctantly replying with mostly one-word responses.

“You can’t be that angry with me,” he finally spoke, breaking another silence. “I’m not the whole team, you know.”

“I can and I will,” you shrugged, sipping your almost-empty drink.

“If you won’t talk, then I’ll just have to make you talk.”

He put his elbows down on the table and turned his head to face you, “Why’d you decide to come out in public after that game? I wouldn’t have even bothered to show my face in a bar wearing that. You here with other people or something?”

“I came with a couple of friends.”

“Doesn’t answer my first question.”

You looked down. “They wanted to come down here. I told them it was probably a bad idea because of the fact that we’re, you know, Leafs fans. They did it anyway so I just tagged along.”

“Bet you didn’t expect to run into me,” he nudged you with his shoulder, bringing a faint smile to your lips. “There you go,” he teased when he noticed your expression. “See? I’m not so bad.”

“Fraternizing with the enemy is a bad look for a woman like me,” you retorted, a playful undertone to your words. It was uncharacteristic compared to the closed-off manner you had with every other response. You wouldn’t admit that, however.

“Oh, she jokes,” he took the final sip of the drink he’d bought himself upon sitting with you, even after deciding he’d had his last beforehand.

“Shut up, Frederic.”

“We’ve regressed to my last name now? Can’t even call me by my first?”

“But you won’t use mine at all,” you rolled your eyes, “Trent.”

You looked at him for maybe a tad longer than you should’ve, eyes slowly moving down his body. He wore a white collared shirt that hugged his arms and gray dress pants that looked awfully tight around his thighs. You couldn’t help but notice the facial hair he’d grown since the start of the round, giving him a gingery mustache with a somewhat patchy beard. You’d seen what he looked like before that and were undoubtedly intrigued by it, regardless of whatever grudges you held against him. But you couldn’t let him know that.

So you turned to face the television above the bar, watching the commercial in a quiet trance as if nothing happened.

“Hey,” he tapped his finger on the bartop, diverting your attention back to him. “Tell me something,” he softly requested as you looked back, adjusting his body to face yours. “Why did you let me buy you the new drink if you weren’t going to talk to me, hm?”

You swallowed, “I wasn’t going to be rude.”

“The real reason,” he pressed.

“There is no real reason.”

“Alright,” he nodded, “so why were you staring at me before?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He lowered his voice and brought his face just slightly closer, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “You’re not a very good liar, you know that?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I mean,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “unless I didn’t see you looking for a while there. But I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.”

“Just…just shut up, Trent, alright?”

“Sounds like I hit a nerve,” he noted and you rolled your eyes. “You know, you’re cute when you’re irritable.”

His grin widened when you shook your head again, promptly informing him of how annoying he was once again. “But if I’m really being honest here,” he lifted his fingers and gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, “I think you’re pretty.”

At this, your hardened exterior softened. Your head turned just slightly so that he was in your field of view and you sighed gently. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

“I, um,” you cleared your throat, taking a breath, “I was looking before.”

“I know,” he softly responded, hand slipping down until his palm rested on your thigh. Initially, you flinched at the contact, but your muscles relaxed when you realized it was a warm gesture rather than one with malicious intent.

“You don’t have to be so cold,” he told you. “No matter who I play for, I’m just a guy.”

You were more attracted to him than you wanted to let on, and it surely didn’t help that he was being nicer to you. You suppressed a smile and faced him fully.

“It’s not that, it’s—it’s the point,” you flatly responded.

“You can look at me again,” he teased, thumb rubbing your thigh. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Your gaze lingered on him again, eyes flitting down to his lips before you looked away. It wasn’t hard for him to see through you—after all, you allowed him to keep his hand where it was, even after refuting his words. He took notice of your wandering eyes and finally pieced it together.

“Like the new look, eh?”

Your brows furrowed and you swallowed, “What new look…?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about,” he replied with certainty. “You have a thing for the scruff?”

“Please. I don’t even know what you looked like before that,” you lied, taking an unsteady breath.

“Doesn’t change that you were looking at it, does it?”

“Well…” you trailed off, lips parted as you tried to think up an excuse. “No,” you finally gave up, letting your head hang down. “It doesn’t, because I have seen you before and I do have a thing for it. For you,” you shook your head, laughing at the reality of how weak you truly were. How stupid you must have looked to him. “So tease me all you want, say that you told me so—you’re right.”

A ringed finger slipped under your chin and tilted your head toward him, his face mere inches away from yours.

“I’m not going to tease you.”

You swallowed, expression falling as your eyes locked with his. They were brown, you noticed. And they were…warm. They largely contrasted how he looked at you previously. It brought you to an entranced sort of state.

His touch was soft, comforting. But in a way that made you want him more. Caused your mind to wander to places you knew it shouldn’t have gone. It felt good. Really good.

And you had no business wondering what the rest of him would feel like on you.

“Where are you staying?” you blurted out.

“Upstairs.”

“Take me,” the words left your mouth before you could protest.

An eyebrow raised and his grin turned to a smile. “Gladly,” he whispered, lowering his hand and standing up.

He held his hand out and you hesitantly took it, allowing him to discreetly walk you toward the exit of the bar. You ducked when you saw your friends, praying that by some miracle they didn’t see you walk out with Trent Frederic.

“Trent,” you whispered, clutching onto him harder now that you couldn’t be hidden by the darkness of the bar any longer. “What if someone saw?”

“You would’ve known by now. Trust me,” he reassured you as the elevator doors slid open. You walked in and the doors shut, enclosing you in the small space. “And if anyone did,” he started, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck, “it’s none of their business, anyway.”

“Mhm,” you agreed softly, eyes beginning to close when you felt his warm breath on your neck.

“See? Not so hard to agree, is it?”

“Mm…no…”

He laughed softly in your ear and pressed a tiny kiss to the skin behind it. He intricately placed a few more on the exposed skin, prompting a faint hum from your lips as the doors slid back open. His hand found its place on your waist as he gently pushed you out, guiding you down the hallway and finally stopping in front of his door.

By now, you’d become urgent—urgent to feel his lips on yours no matter how much you told yourself it was a stupid idea. You lived in Toronto; a whopping 500 miles away. And he played for Boston, the team you hated with a passion so strong that you vowed to never let yourself be endeared by them. Yet there you were, standing next to the forward who contributed to your favorite team’s loss, wanting nothing more than for him to make you feel oh, so good.

And he would.

The door clicked open and he pushed the lever down, stepping aside to let you in. He was quick to pin you to the door with his body, arm coming up behind your head to lock it and toss the room card to the side.

“I can’t believe I let you charm me.”

“What can I say,” he rasped, leaning in closer, “I know how to get a girl in my room.”

His lips finally connected with yours and you immediately reciprocated, hand flattening against his chest and gripping the material of his shirt. You pulled him closer, slipping your free hand around his neck before tilting your head to deepen the kiss. The hair above his lips rubbed against your skin, the feeling eliciting a faint hum from your mouth into his. He grinned at this and hooked his fingers under the blue jersey you wore, pulling away promptly and carefully lifting it up.

“Taking this shit off,” he mumbled, pulling the fabric over your head and discarding it to the floor. “You’d look much better with mine.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not going to happen, Trent.”

“We’ll see,” he grinned, moving his lips to your neck and marking up the skin, drawing whimpers from your mouth.

Your hand snaked into his hair, fingers threading between the dusty ginger strands as you pushed his head closer. He kissed up to your jaw, sliding his hand up to your neck, the other placed on the bare skin of your hip. His fingers pressed into the nape of your neck and his thumb rested just under your chin, hand pressing the back of your head against the door as his lips kissed a path down your jawline.

“Shit,” you moaned breathily, reaching for the buttons on his shirt as his mouth returned to yours hungrily.

You worked your way down, the material of his shirt parting and exposing his skin as each button fell open. His tongue slipped between your lips, grazing your teeth before rolling over yours languidly. Soft fingers untucked his open shirt from his pants and began to trace his stomach, moving slowly up to his firm chest. The action caused the large hand around your neck to tighten its hold, prying a moan from your throat.

“Didn’t know,” you panted, “—didn’t know you wore a chain.”

“Like it, mm?”

The way he grinned down at you brought a lump to your throat. He made you nervous. Weak, even. And the height at which he stood compared to you surely didn’t help. So you nodded curtly in response, hoping he’d take the hint and not press you further.

But he took it and instead removed his hand from your neck to slide it down and meet the other at your lower back, promptly hoisting you up. Your hands moved to his face and held it while you continued to kiss him, him walking the two of you away from the door and in the direction of the bed. You kicked your shoes off just as he grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall outside the bathroom and laid it lazily atop the sheets. He then lowered you onto your back and let go, allowing you to lie comfortably on the bed as he remained on his knees in front of you.

He quickly shed himself of the torn-open shirt and tossed it toward the empty bed on the other side of the room. His body soon hovered over yours, an arm on the bed on each side of your head as he kissed you again. His lips moved to your neck once again, working the skin until soft moans slipped through your parted ones.

“Trent,” you exhaled, chest rising and falling deeply, “isn’t…isn’t someone else staying here with you? There’s—mm—two beds.”

“There was,” he mumbled into your skin, moving down to your collarbones.

“So couldn’t we get—”

“Was,” he repeated. “He already went home to his girlfriend. And I have both room keys.” He chuckled softly and reached around your back to unclasp your bra, the fabric coming loose on your chest. “So relax.”

You nodded and lifted your arms for him to pull it off, him letting it fall from his hand before kissing a path down the valley of your chest. His body moved down as he continued down to your stomach, then to your waist where his fingers hooked in your pants and slid them down your legs.

You kicked them off and opened your legs, allowing Trent to slip between them. He gently kissed your inner thigh, slowly working his way up until he reached the lacy fabric that covered your skin. He looked up, making and not breaking eye contact with you as he took the waistband between his teeth and tugged the fabric slowly down your legs. As he rose upwards, they and your pants were dropped to the floor.

Warm breath fanned the skin between your aching thighs, awaiting his touch oh, so impatiently. His fingers brushed the area, dragging themselves slowly up and down. His eyes flitted up to you, a faint grin playing on his lips before focusing back down.

“God, you’re wet,” he rasped, leaning down and settling his face between your thighs, your legs atop his shoulders. His hands wrapped around your outer thighs and gripped them, pulling you in promptly.

“Especially for someone who claims to hate me so much.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned, “Think that’ll make me like you any more?”

“No, but maybe this will.”

With that, his mouth wrapped around your clit, tongue swirling around and eliciting a gasp of shock from your parted lips. Your eyes widened as he sucked gently, hands kneading the warm flesh of your thighs.

He then trailed downward, planting small, light kisses on the sensitive flesh, all before his tongue carefully parted your folds and delved slowly inside. Your fingers gingerly threaded into his strands, palm flattening itself on the back of his head as you pushed him down, your body weak with the need for more friction.

The hair that had recently grown above his lips brushed against your skin, rubbing back and forth forcefully and bringing meaning to the term, ‘hurts so good.’

“God, fuck,” you groaned, hands tenaciously gripping the sheets and his curls as his tongue moved in a rhythm that was just enough to make you long for more.

He lapped at you mercilessly, expert movements of his tongue coaxing soft moans from your mouth. A cocky grin stretched across his lips as he brought you to the brink, then pulled away, forcing a whimper from you at the loss of contact.

A large hand was removed from your thigh and brought between your legs, knuckles once again dragging lazily along the sensitive, needy skin, but refusing to give you the satisfaction of doing what you wanted most. He was teasing you; punishing you for the way in which you treated him earlier without giving him as much as a chance to prove himself.

“Trent,” you whined impatiently, hips writhing involuntarily against his bearded face.

“Mm…what?”

You refused to admit the irrevocable attraction you had to him because you didn’t want to let him win. And now he was being a bitch to you, just like you were to him. He chuckled softly and pressed the tip of his finger to your entrance, allowing you to feel the small bit of pressure that came with it.

“Please,” you whimpered, fingers tightening in his curls.

Enough was enough and he pushed the finger in, drawing a moan from your lips before adding another and thrusting them in and out with no room for complaint. The cold metal of his ring brushed against your sensitive inner walls and you gasped at the initial contact, your rampant mind having forgotten about the jewelry to begin with. And deep down, you loved it.

His mouth returned to your skin, tongue licking small stripes on the mound of flesh above his fingers, the scruff on his chin rubbing roughly against it. You knew you were going to have burns on your skin caused by his facial hair but you didn’t care; you just wanted to keep feeling him.

“Trent, don’t stop.”

He laughed quietly and sped up the pace of his fingers, urging you even closer to the edge. Your thighs closed in around his head, hand still pushing his head down. He hummed in satisfaction, the noise vibrating against your skin as he felt you clench around his long fingers.

His lips sucked on your clit in a steady pattern, causing your release to rip through you, prying a moan from deep within your stomach. You fisted the sheets tighter as your hips writhed against his face and fingers, legs beginning to shake from the pressure. Trent continued to work you through it, tongue lapping up the wetness that accumulated until you sunk back down into the mattress, spent.

Slowly he removed his fingers, first bringing them to his lips to lick them clean before rising back up. You inched backward on the bed until your head pressed against the pillow, Trent following and planting himself on his knees between your legs. His fingers reached down and fumbled with the buckle on his belt, eyes never leaving your body in the process. It wasn’t long before his belt haphazardly hit the floor, then his pants and his painfully hard cock was freed from its constraints. A rough palm placed itself on your knee, rubbing it slowly.

“Trent,” you swallowed, drawing his attention back up to your face. “Con—”

He raised his hand to cut you off, a gold wrapper resting comfortably between his index and middle fingers. The action having rendered you silent, he promptly took the foil between his teeth and pulled, spitting out the excess before taking out the latex and rolling it onto himself. You soon felt the pressure of him at your entrance, legs subconsciously widening to let him slip between them further, then heard the sound of him groaning as he pushed into you.

You swore it was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

He leaned forward slowly, giving you just a moment’s time to adjust to his size as he stretched you out. Your breaths were unsteady, eyes screwed shut as your fingers maintained their forceful grip on the sheets around you. Your mind was racing, but you knew one thing for certain—the man was about to fucking blow it. His body hovered above yours as he kissed a path from your stomach up to your neck, hands pressing into the mattress on each side of you.

“Where did you,” you breathed, “get that?”

“Pocket,” he rasped, mustache brushing against your neck.

Eyes wide, you responded, “That’s not—”

“Relax,” he mumbled, the corners of his lips slightly upturned. “I put it in there today.”

Then you impatiently lifted a hand to the back of his head and pushed his lips onto yours, kissing him urgently and wordlessly telling him to just move. He obeyed your silent command and pushed his hips into yours, burying his dick into you before pulling back, leaving only the tip inside. He repeated the process at a steady, slow rhythm—tortuously slow, at that—until your back was arching, hand in his hair sliding down to his shoulder blade as the long, coffin-shaped nails dug into his soft skin. The chain that you’d noticed earlier tapped against your cheek, the feeling provoking you to throw your head back against the pillow.

His hand slid up your front, fingers curling around to the nape of your neck and thumb resting under your chin once again, pulling your head back up as he quickened his pace, driving into you with more force. Every inch of his thick cock slid smoothly along your velvety walls, your mouth frozen in its open state as his lips worked at your neck again. And god, you just couldn’t understand what made you hate that guy in the first place. It must have slipped your mind completely.

Upon the first thrust of his hips, he felt just how tight you enveloped him. The immense pressure of you wrapped around his strained length, practically squeezing it. The age-old trick of conjuring up the most repulsive of thoughts seemed nothing but moronic to him in the past, yet for some reason he found himself naming off presidents in his head to prevent from coming so fucking soon. He only wished that he could feel it; really feel it, if it weren’t for that godforsaken rubber that separated him from you.

And he’d make it his mission to do so, whether you lived five hundred miles away or not.

He just hoped he’d last when he finally did.

The hand around your throat closed just slightly, using just enough pressure to threaten your intake of breath without causing any pain. It was delicious. You didn’t have the will to fight it—your body had already submitted to him long before, and there wasn’t much that you could focus on other than the feeling of him roughly thrusting into you, lips marking up one side of your neck while his hand firmly gripped the other.

The sounds of your mixed moans bounced off of the walls and you began to wonder whether anyone could hear it or not; if any of his teammates were close by, walking back to their rooms from the bar. The thought instilled enough fear for you to weakly voice it.

“What if—ah—what if someone hears us?”

“Let them,” he rasped, kissing behind your ear.

“But—”

“God, shut up,” he pushed his lips to yours, swallowing your words, moans, and expletives that threatened to destroy your mediocre attempt to stay quiet. His tongue rolled over yours, low hums reverberating in your mouth and filling your ears.

Finally, he released his hold from your neck, allowing the air to flow smoothly into your lungs once more. The hand reached for yours, roughly threading his fingers between yours before pushing the two forward and pinning the back of your hand to the headboard behind you. You let out a whimper at the sudden contact but quickly gripped his hand with a matching force to his as he hit the sweet spot inside you and a familiar pit in your stomach formed.

“Close,” you panted, back arching off of the bed and forcing your front to press firmly into his.

“I know,” he told you, grip tightening as the taut line in your stomach snapped.

His mouth enveloped yours again to swallow your noises, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. Your inner walls constricted around his length as you hit your climax, nails digging into his back as you grasped desperately at him for stability, support—any sort of strength that he could provide you with. And he did, grunting sporadically as he fucked you through your second orgasm, thrusts growing sloppier.

It wasn’t long before he twitched inside you, hitting his own peak and letting out a deep moan. Your name—to your surprise—left his lips in a slurred form, repeating it softly as if it were a hymn. Sweat coated your forehead, droplets dripping slowly down your face, and the frontward strands of your hair had grown wet. His curls dripped with his own sweat as his lips hovered just centimeters above yours, warm breath fanning your face and gaze aligning with yours.

You finally swallowed, “Wow.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, hand letting go of yours and gently running up and down your side.

He waited a moment and carefully pulled out, the action drawing your eyes shut before he slipped off the used latex and disposed of it. You adjusted yourself as he did so, ridding the bed of the towel and briefly cleaning yourself up before you felt a piece of fabric hit your arm. You looked down to see a large, black t-shirt on the bed and grabbed it, quickly slipping it on as he walked back over. He motioned you under the sheets and you silently obliged.

Your back pressed against his chest, chain pressing into the skin as an arm wrapped around you and a hand flattened on your stomach. His other fingers pushed your hair to the side, exposing the skin to his eyes, and he saw the faint marks his fingers left on your neck. A pair of lips brushed against your ear and the soft rasp of his voice returned.

“You know, that’s a Bruins shirt,” he teased, scruff grazing your damp skin as his lips connected with your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you flatly responded.

“Going against your word pretty fast, eh?”

“Yeah, well,” you started, nuzzling back into him. “I told you I hated you and ended up in your bed, so,” you turned to him slightly, “unreliable source.”

He chuckled softly and brought his fingers up to brush your hair back, pressing a light kiss to your cheek. “Night, Marner.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, and he laughed one final time before closing his eyes and relaxing into you.

So, against everything that you stood for just hours before, you fell asleep in Trent Frederic’s arms without much forethought. In his shirt and his bed, effectively leaving your friends behind because they’d for some odd reason just slipped your mind completely.

And when Trent woke up the next morning, he was no longer in your company, much to his dismay. Any trace of your presence the night before had perished, down to the towel on the floor. But there was one thing—one saving grace that caught his eye as he scanned the room.

A piece of paper on the nightstand with a phone number scribbled on it and a small note below it that read,

“For the next time you’re in Toronto.”

#trent frederic #boston bruins #fanfic #hockey #trent frederic fic #boston bruins imagine #hockey fic #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader #toronto maple leafs #t. frederic

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beefromanoff · 3 days

Text

Project Mockingbird Ch. 20

summary: the mission, the safe house, the extracurriculars that follow.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: HAHAHAHA GUYS I fully did not intend for the story to go there today, but here we are. enjoy ;) LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

tag list: @bangtanxberm @scott-loki-barnes @kayhi808 @charmedbysarge @cjand10 @capswife

(let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

I padded out of the bathroom in my trusty pajamas, the soft cotton ones that I had packed specifically for "casual, inconspicuous, asexual lounging," as Natasha had put it. I ignored the barely-there lace set she’d somehow snuck into my suitcase when I wasn’t looking. Bucky was tossing a thin blanket onto the couch, trying to make it look suitable to sleep on. It looked about as comfortable as a slab of concrete, one of those pieces of furniture that’s clearly for fashion rather than function. Especially considering his size, there was no world in which he’d get a good nights’ sleep on that thing.

"Do you have something against comfort, Barnes?" I quipped as I leaned against the doorframe, watching him attempt to make the blanket fit across the length of the couch.

He glanced up, eyes flicking down over my pajamas, making me keenly aware of my lack of bra. "Just figured I’d be a gentleman, that’s all."

I crossed my arms, my eyebrow arching in amusement. "Come on, there’s a perfectly good bed here. And it's big enough for, like, three of me. Or two of you."

Bucky stood up, hesitating for a fraction of a second. "You sure? I’ve slept in worse ––"

"I’m sure. Besides," I continued, walking over to the king-sized bed and patting the mattress, "if one of us has a nightmare, the other can play the hero. You know, wake the other up before it gets too bad?"

"That’s... actually not a bad idea," Bucky conceded, though he still looked as if he were mentally measuring the distance between the couch and the bed.

The silence stretched for a moment before he finally picked up his pillow and made his way to the other side of the bed. "If you start stealing the blankets, though, I’m building a fort."

"I solemnly swear to keep my blanket thievery to a minimum," I said, my tone mockingly serious as I climbed into bed next to him.

We both settled under the covers, maintaining a respectful, almost comical distance between us. I lay on my side, facing away from Bucky, my eyes staring at the wall as if it might suddenly become interesting. All I could think about was the weight of his body on the mattress, pulling me towards him. The warmth of him. The way I could just roll over, touch him…

The room was silent, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and our synchronized breathing. Every once in a while, I could hear Bucky shifting, as if he were also wrestling with the awkwardness of the situation. We’d agreed on a cool 66 degrees for the room, both of us embracing the likelihood that we’d wake up from a nightmare, panicked and sweaty. A cool room was a small comfort, an easy thing to agree on. At this moment, it served to keep us both from getting too warm in our full pajamas. My full length set had felt nice after a shower, but now, under the covers, it felt cumbersome. Like I was wearing too much clothing. I wondered if Bucky felt the same in his sweatpants and t-shirt. My normal sleep attire was a tank top and underwear, far less than I was currently wearing. What did he sleep in? A faded shirt and boxers? Boxers alone? I propped myself up on my elbows, reaching for the glass of water on my nightstand, clearing the thought from my head as my cheeks flushed.

"Hey, Char?" His voice was soft in the darkness.

"Yeah?"

"If this were an actual date, I'd have said some smooth line about how you like your eggs in the morning.”

I chuckled, the sound muffled by my pillow. "Lucky for you, we’re just two spies in a bed. No lines necessary."

The tension seemed to ease a bit, and slowly, the space between us felt less like a wall we couldn’t cross. As sleep eventually claimed us, it was in a quiet understanding that for the first time in weeks, we weren't going to be alone with our nightmares.

And miraculously, neither of us had one.

When morning light spilled into the room, gently pulling me from the depths of an unprecedented peaceful sleep, I realized something had shifted—not just in the bed (which they had, by the way. I’d never seen such a violent sleeper, covers kicked off of his legs and one pillow on the ground), but perhaps in the silent agreement that we were in this mess together. I rolled over to face Bucky, whose eyes were already open, a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Morning," he said, the word simple, but not without warmth.

"Morning," I replied, feeling a surprising flicker of something like anticipation for the day ahead.

“Coffee?” his voice was gruff, tired. Sexy?

“Coffee.”

“I’ll call room service.”

“Suddenly I’m remembering why I married you.”

______

Under the blazing sun, Charlotte lounged in the cabana, her gaze fixed on the two men seated at a table by the poolside bar. The earpiece nestled in her ear crackled to life as Bucky's voice filled her senses. Today was the day that the sale was supposed to take place. Sure enough, their buyer and seller were exactly where they’d predicted. Bucky, not exactly able to lounge at the pool without exposing his metal arm and therefore, his identity, was watching from the roof of a nearby villa. High enough that no one would be able to see him, but close enough that he had a perfect view of Charlotte.

Charlotte in that thin, stringy black bikini. Charlotte, laying back against the chair, propped up in a way that had the muscles in her stomach taut. Charlotte, the one who’s heartbeat he’d fallen asleep listening to last night. He shook his head, pressing a hand to his earpiece.

"Alright, Char, what's the plan?" His tone was serious, willing himself to switch to mission mode.

Charlotte smirked, adjusting her sunglasses as she replied, "Just sit tight, Tin Man. I've got this under control."

Bucky huffed a laugh, the sound tinged with a hint of exasperation. "Just don't get…distracted," he narrowed his eyes as a particularly confident set of men in Speedos walked in front of her.

Rolling her eyes, Charlotte scanned the scene before her, noting the men's movements. "Something tells me I’m not their type," she flipped a page on the magazine she was pretending to read, eyes still locked on their targets.

As one of the men pulled out a thumb drive, Bucky's voice grew more urgent. "They've got the goods. What's the play, Char?"

Charlotte's eyes narrowed, her mind racing as she formulated a plan. "Let me work my magic," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You got the camera ready?”

“Yes…” His skepticism was evident, but he tugged the small drone from his backpack. Flipping it on, he felt it rise from his hand with a near-silent whir, soaring down to a vantage point above the pool. It was one of Stark’s newer inventions, equipped with the same stealth mode features as the Quinjets. Even in direct sunlight like today, it was completely invisible to the naked eye, making it perfect to transmit the video footage in real time.

Bucky watched the scene below unfold. Both men leaned in over the table, clearly deep in conversation. One of them slid a small device, the zip drive, across the table. The other picked it up, examining it, before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. Rounding the edge of the pool, Charlotte padded barefoot across the patio. She’d tied a sheer scarf around her hips, doing little to hide the skimpy swimsuit beneath. A sorry excuse for a cover-up, but one he couldn’t bring himself to look away from. She approached the men with calculated confidence, her smile coy. Holding eye contact with the buyer for just a fraction longer than normal politeness, she strode right by them and up to the bar. Leaning her elbows on the surface, she stuck her hips out ever so slightly. Both men clocked it, heads turned towards her backside.

She could feel their gazes like a physical touch, exactly as she'd intended. Keeping her expression casual, she signaled the bartender. “Mojito, please,” she requested, her voice a melodic purr that carried just enough to ensure the men behind her could hear.

The bartender nodded, setting to work. As he did, Charlotte cast a sidelong glance at the pool’s reflection in the mirror behind the bar. The buyer and seller were still staring, their conversation momentarily forgotten. Charlotte allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

“Put it on my tab.” A deep, mildly accented voice called from behind her. Bullseye.

When the bartender handed her the drink, Charlotte turned, making sure to force a blush into her cheeks “Oh, hi,” she said, her tone dripping with faux innocence. “You didn’t have to do that..”

The buyer—tall, with slicked-back hair and an expensive suit—smiled. “No problem at all,” he replied, eyes raking over her form, taking note of the absence of a ring on her left hand. The faux one she’d been given for the trip was sitting back on her nightstand. “Why don’t you join us? A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t be alone.”

Charlotte’s smile widened. “Well, if you insist.” She slid into the empty seat, crossing her legs slowly. “What brings you gentlemen here?”

In her ear, Bucky’s voice crackled. “Careful Char,” he warned. She ignored him.

The men exchanged a glance. “Business,” the seller replied curtly. He was shorter, stockier, with a sharp look in his eyes that spoke of years spent dealing with shady transactions, things he didn’t speak freely about.

“Oh?” Charlotte arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of her drink. “What kind of business?”

The buyer leaned in, lowering his voice. “The kind that pays well. Really fucking well.”

Charlotte laughed softly, leaning onto her elbows in a way that pushed her chest forward. Neither of the men made an effort to pretend they weren’t looking. “Sounds like my lucky day.”

Bucky watched from his vantage point, his jaw clenched. Charlotte was playing her part perfectly, but he couldn’t shake the unease gnawing at him. He adjusted the drone’s angle from his phone ever so slightly, ensuring he had a clear view of the table. As much as he wanted to see the show she was putting on, the point of the footage was to capture their faces, so he positioned the drone behind her.

Charlotte ran a finger along the rim of her glass, her gaze fixed on the zip drive that remained loosely held in the buyer’s left hand. “That looks vintage,” she remarked, nodding towards the watch on the same wrist. “Are you a collector?”

The buyer’s smile widened. “You could say that.” He set the zip drive down on the table, reaching over to tug up the sleeve on his left arm, holding it up for her to see. “1975 Rolex, custom made. Worth a fortune.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened slightly, feigning interest. “Really? I’ve always been fascinated by watches. Mind if I take a closer look?”

The seller hadn’t taken his eyes off her chest since she’d leaned on the table, and the buyer, clearly taken with her, unfastened and handed it over. “Be careful with it, darling. It’s not something you come across every day.”

“Of course,” she marveled. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” A mischievous look in her eye that showed a bit more than innocence. Her fingers brushed against the buyer’s as she took the watch, the touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. She continued to ooh and ahh turning the watch over in her hands, asking questions she couldn’t give less of a shit about just to keep the men distracted.

Bucky’s grip on his phone tightened. The look in both men's eyes…he knew exactly what they wanted. Even if Charlotte was a professional, even if she could hand their asses to them with one arm tied behind her back, even if she was only his wife for the sake of the mission…it made his blood run hot. He willed her to work faster, to get out of there before one of them got handsy and made him do something he’d regret.

After twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, the buyer was fastening the watch back on his hand, the seller scrawling a phone number onto a cocktail napkin. Charlotte was cradling her chin in her hands, making doe eyes as she thanked them profusely for her drink. When the napkin was handed to her, she held it to her chest as she stood, blowing them a kiss before turning and striding away. She winked as she turned, her smile teasing. “Don’t miss me too much.”

The men didn’t take their eyes off of her.

Bucky swore, swiftly making his way back to the room.

As soon as she was out of sight, she quickened her pace, switching from the exaggerated swing of her hips to a brisk walk.

“Buck,” She breathed, pressing a finger to her ear.

“I’m here,” His answer was instantaneous. “Are you okay?”

“Meet me at the room,” She tried to keep the grin out of her voice. “Hurry!”

When she slid the keycard into the lock and pressed the door open, Bucky was already there, pacing. He stopped when he saw her, relief flooding his features. “Did you get it?”

“What, is it my first mission or something?” She slid her fingers into the triangle of fabric covering her left breast, tugging out a small black zip drive. Tossing it to him, Charlotte held up a thick envelope with a grin. “And a little something extra,” she said, tossing it onto the table with a thud. “But we’re not in the clear yet. They’ll notice soon enough.”

“Char,” He shook his head as if he wasn’t sure whether to scold or commend her for the envelope of cash she’d somehow snuck out without a single piece of fabric on her body large enough to cover it. Letting out a small chuckle, he tossed the drive back to her. “Then let’s get out of here.”

They gathered their things quickly, filling their small suitcases and –– in Charlotte’s case, changing into something a little less revealing. With a crochet sundress slipped over her bikini, she tucked the zip drive into her purse and held the door open. Bucky, one suitcase in each hand, strode right through.

“Nice work,” Bucky said, his voice low as they walked. “You handled that perfectly.”

Charlotte smirked. “What can I say? I’m good at what I do.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you are. Now let’s get this back to Stark.”

“Wait,” She paused. “Give me ten minutes. Can you have the Quinjet on the roof of that villa by the pool?”

“Char,” His tone was warning.

“Ten minutes,” She was already walking away.

Bucky looked up, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Where the hell are you going? We got what we came for.”

Charlotte held up a key card as she walked backwards. “This little beauty gives us access to Mr. Seller’s room. Who knows what other goodies we might find?”

“Charlotte, we can’t risk it. We need to get out of here now,” Bucky insisted, his voice tight with concern.

“Relax, Buck. I’ve got this. Just get the Quinjet ready and meet me on the roof in ten,” she waved him off, rounding the corner.

“Charlotte!” Bucky called after her, but she was gone, leaving him to swear under his breath. He had no choice but to follow her lead and hope she knew what the hell she was doing.

Charlotte moved through the resort with practiced ease, her heart pounding with adrenaline. She was thankful she put a dress on over the swimsuit, but admittedly could have opted for better shoes than the sandals she’d slid into. She slipped past other guests, too caught up in their own vacation to notice her at all. Sliding the key card into the lock, she felt a surge of triumph as the door clicked open.

Inside, she quickly scanned the room, her eyes landing on a sleek laptop and a burner phone on the desk. She grabbed both, stuffing them into her bag. As she turned to leave, she heard the unmistakable sound of security personnel approaching, an angry male voice giving them a description. Brunette, around 5��7, nice tits, upper twenties. Well, they got almost all of it right. Her pulse quickened, and she ducked out of the room, making a swift exit.

The resort was now teeming with security, their radios crackling with alerts about a thief on the property. Charlotte moved swiftly, weaving through staff hallways and down the staircases, her senses on high alert. Her head was down, eyes concealed behind sunglasses as she tried her best to be stealthy in the world’s least conducive footwear.

“Hey, you!” A voice called out from behind her. She didn’t stop to see who it was. “Excuse me, ma’am, we need to ask you a few questions.”

Charlotte paused just long enough to turn around and give the approaching guard a bewildered look. She spoke in rapid French, her tone laced with confusion and a hint of panic. “Je suis désolée, je ne parle pas anglais! Je cherche ma chambre, où est la réception?”

The guard hesitated, thrown off by the sudden language barrier. He glanced around for backup, clearly unsure how to proceed. “Uh, ma’am, we just need to—”

“Merci, merci!” Charlotte interrupted, nodding vigorously before turning and continuing her hurried pace down the hallway. The guard, still unsure, didn’t pursue immediately, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

As she rounded another corner, she slipped into a staff-only hallway, ducking through a door that led to a service corridor. The walls were lined with cleaning supplies and utility carts, providing some cover as she moved. She could hear footsteps echoing behind her, growing closer.

Charlotte spotted a side exit leading to the outdoor pool area and darted through it, emerging into the bright sunlight. The sudden change in environment disoriented her pursuers momentarily, but she knew she had to keep moving.

“Ma’am, stop right there!” Another guard shouted, now joined by a second one. They were closing in.

Without missing a beat, Charlotte kicked off her sandals and broke into a full sprint, her bare feet slapping against the hot pavement. She zigzagged through the resort, dodging guests and weaving between loungers and pool chairs.

Her heart pounded as she approached the pool, diving over a low hedge and slipping through a narrow gap between two cabanas. She could hear the guards shouting, their frustration evident as they tried to keep up.

“Bucky, I need that Quinjet now!” she hissed into her comms, her voice low but urgent.

“On it,” Bucky replied, the hum of the Quinjet’s engines audible in the background.

Charlotte spotted the rooftop access door ahead, but so did the guards closing in on her. She raced up the final flight of stairs, her muscles burning with the effort.

Bursting through the rooftop door, she saw the Quinjet hovering just above, the hatch open and waiting for her. With a final burst of speed, she launched herself towards it, hands grasping the edge as she hauled herself inside.

Bucky reached out, pulling her up the rest of the way. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger.

Charlotte grinned, breathless but exhilarated. “I was thinking we could use a little more intel. And look what I found,” she said, pulling the laptop and phone from her bag.

Bucky shook his head, his frustration evident. “You could have been caught. Or worse.”

“But I wasn’t,” Charlotte winked, her tone light. “You worry too much, Buck.”

“That’s because you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, his voice edged with concern. “One of these days, your luck is going to run out.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, breathless and grinning. “But not today.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the Quinjet rose higher into the sky, Charlotte settled into her seat, her pulse finally starting to slow. She glanced over at Bucky, who was still fuming, his jaw set in a tight line.

“Hey,” she said softly, nudging his arm. “We did good today. And now we have even more to bring back to Stark.”

Bucky looked at her earnest smile, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah. We did.”

Charlotte leaned back, closing her eyes as the adrenaline began to fade. She knew Bucky was right—her risk-taking tendencies could be dangerous. But she also knew that without them, she sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten this far. It was a fine line to walk, but she was willing to walk it for the sake of the mission—and, if she was honest, for the thrill of it all.

The Quinjet sped across the sky to their rendezvous point, the cities below them all blurring together. It was just another day in their complicated, unconventional lives, but for Charlotte, it was a day well spent. And as she felt Bucky’s gaze linger on her, she knew that despite his frustration, he couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that her antics always seemed to ignite.

As they settled in for the rest of the flight, Bucky shot Charlotte a sideways glance, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "You're something else, Char," he remarked, a wry smile betraying his stern tone.

Charlotte grinned back at him, her pulse still racing with the thrill of the chase. "Just trying to keep the spark alive.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“In our marriage,” She winked. “Duh.”

Bucky snorted, shaking his head. "If this is your idea of a marriage, I'm not sure I can handle the honeymoon."

Charlotte leaned closer, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, come on, you know you love it. Admit it, Barnes, you were on the edge of your seat watching me back there."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, on the edge of my seat ready to jump in and save your reckless ass."

"Please," she scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "I had everything under control. You worry too much."

Bucky's smile faded slightly, his expression turning serious. "And you don't worry enough. You can't just keep pulling stunts like that, Char. One day, you might not be so lucky."

Charlotte's playful demeanor softened for a moment. "I know, Bucky. But a very wise tutor of mine once told me to know the plan, but never be afraid to pivot during battle. And besides," she added, her grin returning, "isn't that why you love working with me? Keeps you on your toes."

He shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping his lips. "A wise tutor, huh?"

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“I’ll do my best.” He shot her a sidelong look. “No more stunts like these, okay? I’m too old for this shit.”

She saluted him with a mock-serious expression. "Aye aye, Captain. No more near-death experiences...for today."

Bucky rolled his eyes again but couldn't suppress his grin. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here you are, stuck with me," she teased, leaning back in her seat.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Just promise me you'll be careful, Char. I don't want to have to explain to Nat why we lost her favorite agent."

Charlotte placed a hand over her heart in a mock pledge. "I solemnly swear to be as careful as my reckless nature allows."

Bucky shook his head, but his eyes were warm. "That's a start."

______

An hour into the flight back to the compound, they’d received an incoming call from Agent Hill. Apparently the notorious Midwestern spring storms were looming in their path, making the normally simple flight a little more treacherous.

Bucky rubbed his jaw as he leaned against the console of the Quinjet, exchanging an exasperated glance with Charlotte. "Maria, what do you mean we can't fly? We're in the sturdiest fucking aircraft there is."

Maria Hill's voice crackled over the comms, her tone firm but sympathetic. "I know, Barnes, but we've got some bad storms rolling directly through your path. It's not safe to be up there right now. You need to find somewhere to land and wait it out until the weather clears."

Charlotte crossed her arms, frustration evident in her voice. "Agent Hill, we have intel we need to get to you. We’re so close to being home, just another two hours ––"

"I understand, Charlotte," Maria interrupted, her tone firm. "But your safety comes first. You won't be any good to us if you end up caught in a storm or worse. We received the drone footage from Sergeant Barnes, any other intel can wait until you get back tomorrow"

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's right, Char. We can't risk it."

Charlotte shot him a defiant look. "Where the hell are we supposed to go? Where even are we?"

Natasha's voice cut in over the comms, her tone calm but authoritative. "You’re over Oklahoma. I’d recommend detouring south to avoid the storm cell, hiding out in our North Texas safe house. I’ll send over the coordinates."

Bucky exchanged a resigned glance with Charlotte before nodding. "Fine. It better not be one of the shitty old ones."

"It’s one of Stark’s old vacation homes," Maria replied. "I think you’ll find it…comfortable. Just be safe, both of you. We'll regroup once the weather clears."

With a heavy sigh, Bucky switched off the comms, the tension in the cockpit palpable. They were so close to being back home, but now they were grounded by forces beyond their control. As Bucky scanned the horizon, the storm clouds loomed ominously in the distance, making Charlotte’s stomach flop. She’d grown up in a cold, frigid climate. Summer storms and tornadoes still made her uneasy, especially combining an unfamiliar environment.

But she wasn’t the captain, and they’d been given a direct order. Sighing, Charlotte leaned back in her seat, knowing there was no amount of insubordination that would get her out of this one.

As the Quinjet touched down in the field next to the large safe house, Bucky and Charlotte stared out the windshield, both sighing deeply. The rain was coming down in sheets, making visibility near zero. They could barely see the house thirty yards in front of them. With a sense of resignation, they grabbed the bags, hurried out of the Quinjet and dashed towards the safety of the house. The rain soaked them through in a matter of seconds as they sprinted across the yard.

They stumbled up the porch steps, clumsy and slipping, as they reached for the door handle, their soaked clothes clinging to their skin. Bucky punched in the security code, and with a click, the door swung open.

They practically tumbled inside, Bucky dropping both of their bags on the ground with a wet thunk. Water pooled at their feet as they stood in the entrance hall, dripping onto the undoubtedly expensive hardwood floor.

Charlotte let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through her sodden hair. "Well, this is…not how I saw today going."

Bucky scowled, raising an eyebrow at her. "Funny, I’ve thought that several times today."

“Don’t be a dick.” She rolled her eyes.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Charlotte stood dripping on the rug, her soaked dress clinging to her curves, her hair plastered to her skin. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she tugged it over her head, revealing that damn black bikini underneath. Pulling it over her head, she paused, the soaked material knotted in her long, dark hair, already curling from the rain. She hesitated, glancing back at Bucky, her expression a mix of frustration and amusement as she attempted to tug the ends of her hair free.

"Good thing I’m wearing a swimsuit," she muttered, her voice laced with sarcasm.

Bucky watched her, momentarily stunned into silence by the sight before him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her, the way the rain droplets ran down her body, the way her muscles moved beneath her skin as she tangled with her hair. His heart raced in his chest, his blood burning in his veins.

"Let me help you with that," Bucky finally said, his voice low and husky as he stepped forward. Moving closer to Charlotte, he reached out to gently untangle the dress from her hair, his fingers brushing against her shoulder with a feather-light touch.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as Bucky's touch sent a shiver down her spine. She met his gaze, her eyes locking with his in a silent exchange. He easily freed the dress, letting it drop to the floor. There was a palpable tension in the air, thick with things they’d repressed, fought against, lied to themselves about. Now, everything that had previously stood in their way was nowhere to be found. There was no mission, no teammates sharing a wall, no Sam to come interrupt them.

In a way, it felt like they’d lost their safety net. Nothing stood between them and certain death.

Nothing stood between them at all.

"Thanks," Charlotte murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she stepped back, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with electricity.

Bucky swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure. He felt his grip on himself loosening, slipping away. His fists clenched at his sides. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard, trying to remember any reason he shouldn’t do what his body was telling –– begging him to do.

He felt her touch first.

Her hands on his leather jacket. They gripped the lapels, pulling it back, down his arms. It dropped to the floor.

Her hands found the hem of his t-shirt, slid beneath it. His skin burned under her touch, where she brushed his stomach as she lifted the shirt. Raising his arms, their eyes locked as she reached up to pull it over his head. His hair was soaked, a few loose strands plastered to his face. Giving in to her temptation, she ran her hands down his body. Her fingers trailed over his collarbone, over the ridge where his arm met his shoulder, over his chest and the muscles that rippled across his abdomen. She let her eyes roam over him unapologetically, drinking up every muscle, every scar, every glint of his arm in the low light. When she looked back up to meet his gaze, she almost didn’t recognize the man staring down at her.

There was a wild look in his eye that made Charlotte forget who she was, who he was. It burned into her, making her feel naked in ways far beyond just clothing.

Without breaking eye contact, he kicked off his boots. His hands went to his belt, unfastening it, unbuttoning his jeans, lowering the zipper. He paused, seeming to come back to himself for a moment. They stood there, still soaking wet, in the entryway. Rain pounded against the roof, wind howling outside. Charlotte was in a black bikini, Bucky in unbuttoned jeans. Both of them showing more skin to the other than they’d ever dared.

A moment passed between them. Shallow breathing. Hungry eyes. Thunderous heartbeats.

Slowly, tortuously, Charlotte reached up and brushed her wet hair to one side. Her eyes remained locked on Bucky as she tugged on one string of her bikini top. The knot on the back of her neck instantly unraveled, the top falling down to her stomach, revealing her bare chest to him. His breath caught in his throat, his pants feeling tighter. She reached her hands down to the second knot, tugging on it before letting the whole swimsuit top join the rest of their discarded clothing on the floor.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, unable to formulate another thought.

Charlotte took a step towards him, closing the gap between them. She looked up at him, cocking her head ever so slightly. “Is that an offer?”

Whatever leash he’d had on his restraint snapped.

Bucky reached out, his hand cupping Charlotte's cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from hers. His heart hammered in his chest, every nerve in his body on edge with anticipation.

Charlotte's breath caught in her throat as she felt Bucky's touch, his warmth seeping into her skin and setting her ablaze. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with longing, silently urging him to take the next step.

And then, in a heartbeat, it happened. Bucky closed the final distance between them, his lips crashing into hers. It was hard and ravenous and impatient and greedy. His hand slid from her cheek to the nape of her neck, tangling in her wet hair. His other hand found her waist, gripping her hard with cold metal fingers. Her arms wrapped around his torso, trailing down his back. She dug her nails in ever-so-slightly, eliciting a low moan from him, devoured by their kiss.

The kiss was a mess of wet skin and lust, it was sloppy and desperate. For a fleeting instant, nothing else mattered but the electrifying connection between them, the raw intensity of their desire igniting like a wildfire. It was a kiss of longing and longing, a silent confession of the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

A big fuck you to every single time they’d repressed their feelings, every single time they’d fought the urge to cross this line in the sand.

Charlotte’s hands slipped into his waistband, tugging his soaked jeans down over his hips. Bucky stepped out of them, leading Charlotte backwards without breaking the kiss. They stepped backwards through the dark entryway, dripping water across the floor. Charlotte’s hands gripped either side of his face as she followed his lead, one of his hands on her lower back, the other outstretched behind her. With a thud, his hand collided with a wall, immediately backing her against it. Their bare chests collided, skin sticky from the rain and warm with desire.

In one movement, both of Charlotte’s hands were pinned above her head in a vibranium grip. Bucky angled his head, reaching up to cup her jaw as he slid his tongue along her lower lip. A whimper, a whine escaped her lips, only serving to ignite him further. Sliding a knee between her thighs, Charlotte nearly gasped at the sensation. She writhed against his thigh, chasing this strange and euphoric feeling as he rubbed against her. His hand dropped from her jaw, trailing down her neck, across her breasts, down her stomach. It reached around behind her and slid into her bikini bottoms, squeezing her ass so tightly she sucked in a breath. She’d never felt this good, felt this needy, this desperate.

She’d never done this before.

Her heart thudded in her chest as Bucky released her hands, bringing both of his down underneath her, lifting her up until her back was against the wall and her legs were wrapped around him. She locked her ankles behind his back, pulling his hips even closer to hers. He was rock hard, pressing against the spot threatening to ignite her whole body. Wiggling her hips, she ground herself into him.

“Oh, God ––” He closed his eyes, throwing his head back as her hips pressed against him.

When he brought his head back down, he pressed his forehead to Charlotte’s, both of their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Hearts pounded, chests heaved. For a moment they stayed, pinned against the wall, holding each other.

“Char,” He groaned.

“Mmm,” The noise she made was somewhere between a reply and a moan as she ran her hands through his hair.

“Do you want this?”

She paused, hands freezing on his neck.

Hell yes, fuck yes, she absolutely wanted this. This sensation, this feeling, everything that was just happening. She wanted it to never, ever end. She wanted to feel him, she wanted to give herself to him, let this aggressive and demanding version of James Buchanan Barnes take as much of her as he needed.

“Buck…” She breathed, closing her eyes.

“Hey,” He slowly lowered her to the ground, ensuring she was steady on her feet before reaching up to cup her cheeks. “Hey, what’s wrong? We don’t have to do this, we don’t ––”

“No,” She met his gaze, eyes determined. “I want this. I want…this.” Rising onto her tiptoes, she gripped the back of his head, bringing his lips to hers in a slow, wet, deep kiss. They slowly separated, Charlotte dropping back down to her normal height. “I want it all…so badly. I just,” She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “I don’t know how.”

A moment of silence passed between them.

“You don’t know how…” He spoke the words slowly, as if he was trying to figure out what they mean.

“I mean, I never have.” Her eyes met his, willing, begging him to understand. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh,” Bucky's gaze softened as he realized what Charlotte was trying to tell him. He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. "Oh." he repeated, his voice filled with understanding.

"Charlotte, that's nothing to be ashamed of." He paused, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort. "It's okay. We don't have to rush into anything. We can take our time." His hands slid down the backs of her arms, gently, softly.

Charlotte's eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, and she tangled her fingers in his own as they reached down her arms. "What if I don’t want to take my time," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

“Char…”

"Bucky.” She squeezed his hands. “I want this. I want to do this. I want to learn. With you. I trust you."

Bucky's heart swelled, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll teach you," he whispered, his lips brushing against her skin. "We'll go slow. I'll show you everything, and if you ever want to stop, you just tell me, okay?"

She nodded, her insides throbbing at his gentleness. Bucky lifted her chin, making sure she looked into his eyes. "We'll start with the basics," he said, his voice steady and comforting. "We'll go at your pace."

“Can we skip the basics and go back to where we just were?” She pleaded, bringing his hands up to her breasts. A groan escaped his lips as he squeezed, ever-so-gently. His thumbs grazed her nipples before trailing back down to her hips.

“If you want me to teach you…you have to let me start from the beginning.” A devilish grin.

He leaned in again, his lips capturing hers in a slow, tender kiss. This time, there was no rush, no urgency. It was a kiss filled with promise and patience, a kiss that told her he was in no hurry and that he valued her comfort above all else.

Charlotte melted into the kiss, her hands slowly finding their way to his shoulders. She felt the heat of his body, the steady beat of his heart against her chest. It was a feeling of safety, of being cherished.

Bucky's hands moved gently, exploring the curves of her body with a reverence that made her feel beautiful and desired and fuck, so impatient. He took his time, tantalizing her. As his hands caressed her back, her sides, and finally the soft skin of her belly, Charlotte felt like she was going to boil over.

When he finally broke the kiss, she was breathless but smiling. "How was that?" Bucky asked softly, his forehead resting against hers.

"Perfect," Charlotte whispered, her voice strained. "But can we get to the next part, please."

He smirked, his thumb gently tracing the outline of her jaw. "What’s the rush, Char?"

She groaned, leaning her head back. “You’re killing me, Buck,”

“Am I?” He cocked his head in a way she’d never seen, mouth slightly agape. His hand trailed down her stomach, slid between her legs, making her bite her lip so hard it nearly split. Metal fingers slid the band of black fabric to the side, making a long, leisurely swipe through her. A truly pathetic whimper escaped her lips as he pulled his hand back up, examining his fingers in the dim lighting. His gaze darkened as he looked her dead in the eye, bringing his fingers to his lips and slowly sucking the first two.

“Bucky,” Charlotte whined. “Please.”

Bucky's grin widened, and he took her hand. “For the next part,” He led her towards a long hallway. “I think we’ll need a bed.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fluff #winter soldier #avengers #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #winter soldier fluff

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