#the absolute power and control he has from the way he tenses his jaw to his posture

[maxsix]

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

Decode

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Ghost x Shadow!Reader x Soap

Your mission takes a turn for the worst after getting shot down from the sky. Now being injured, low on ammo, and completely surrounded by hostiles, you're only hope is for the Task Force to reach you in time before it was too late.

WC: 4k ~

Action, Angst, Thriller, Suspense, Tense, Graphic Violence, Dark, Mentions of Death, Slight Unrequited Feelings, Slow Burn, Romance, Love Triangle, Longing, Drama, Canon-Compliant, Mentions of Blood

Happy 4th! 🦅🇺🇸

CoD Masterlist

Control Masterlist

Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Decode

There's a reason Ghost liked to keep everyone at a distance, and why he's told himself countless times not to give in to his urges and care too much.

It hadn't been out of fear of being close or even vulnerable towards another, nor did he keep his distance out of the coldness of his own demeanor.

At the end of the day, it had only ever been about one thing and one thing only: Control.

To know one's self and to keep things in check is what matters most, both in peace and combat. After all, it's the actions of those who know no bounds to their own greed and power that have left the world in such a way as is; it's one of the very reasons it's brought everyone here tonight.

All of Simon's life has he seen the dangers which came from men unwilling to keep themselves in check; his own father showed him as much before he'd yet to hit puberty.

"I'm takin' the boy out and teachin' 'em how t'live like a real man," he'd say. A real man.

It's selfish, evil men who relish in the barbarity of their own nature. And Ghost only knew that he did not want to be anything like that. He feared those parts of him he's inherited, whether he could say so out loud or not. And he had feared them so much that he'd been willing to sacrifice everything else in his life to keep them buried.

Keeping control meant everything to him. For a long time, it was the only thing he cared about. The only thing that mattered. The only thing he had left.

Had things been his way, it'd stay that way. And yet it had been one thing to look up to the sky and see you be shot down, bringing an ice cold chill through the man's body as though he'd just been thrown into the artic in just his undergarments, but to then know that Johnny stood beside him in absolute shock, his eyes wide, gun frozen in hand, mouth agape with horror... In complete and utter despair. A sight the lieutenant has never seen of his Sergeant before.

An old and familiar madness stirred in Ghost once more, one he'd thought had been dead and buried long ago. It made his blood boil and his jaw tight beneath his mask.

His gaze hasn't left the spot that you've crashed since watching the entire thing conspire -- simply processing everything through the hazy green of his night vision goggles. Breathing. Blinking. Hoping that if his eyes opened once more that what he'd seen had only been a trick of the mind.

Yet his eyes keep opening, and your helo still sits in the distance. Burning.

Ghost does the first natural thing that comes to mind and reaches for his comms. "Alpha, what's your status?!"

Silence. No response from anyone in Alpha, nothing beyond their coughs in between static and gunfire.

No sound from you either.

Ghost shuffles about anxiously in his stance, tuning out the worried chatter of the others around him, and feeling the pit of his stomach sink to new depths he hadn't known yet existed in him.

Had he lost you so soon, he wondered.

The lieutenant goes for his comms again, doing everything in his power to keep his composure and stay focused on the task at hand.

"Alpha, how copy..?"

A voice finally picks up on the comms, and Ghost swears it hits him like a shot of adrenaline.

"Bravo- Alpha is immobile. Multiple critical!" One of the soldiers relays through the comms.

Ghost attempts to take a moment to digest this information -- Multiple critical, but that hadn't meant everyone had been lost. Though fate seemed adamant on making that a reality, as the sounds of gunfire start to erupt in the distance.

The comms cut back in. "Oh, shit-! We're taking effective fire!"

In a matter of seconds, the building the helo had crashed near continued firing on them, bullets and shouting picking up through the comms.

With Alpha down, that left Building Three compromised, further complicating the mission. Ghost knows what needs to be done here. He radios in, "Alpha, we're moving to building one. Hold tight!"

Alpha Team has to wait while they secure Buildings One and Two, as the mission states. While Ghost is aware that the others would rather jump straight into the fire for their comrades (he shares the sentiment), he knows that it won't do anyone any good if they're all taken out in a single emotionally driven move. it's too high of a risk to go and help them now, and Ghost knows this.

Yet, he remains still, knelt beside his team in the tall grass, as the darkness surrounded him in more ways than one.

Had you still been alive? How could this have happened? Why did this happen?

His mind buzzed with these pains within him, intertwining with each and every other thought. No matter how much he tried to shake it, they ate him alive. And after each one, the same thought concluded them.

This is why, he thought. This. Is. Why.

This is why he wanted you to stay away from him. Why he hadn't wanted to get to know you, and for you to know him. Because suddenly, the thought of losing you tonight had felt unbearable.

"Ghost." It takes hearing Soap's voice, riddled with impatient desperation, for his mind to be made up about the situation. "We need to secure that crash site, now."

For Soap, it hadn't even been a question of what needed to be done here. He wouldn't believe you were gone until he saw for himself, and until that day comes, you've now become the only job that matters to him.

"First, we clear for Hassan," Ghost commands. "That takes the heat off Alpha. Then, we secure the crash site. Clear?"

Soap nods. "Roger that."

"Let's move."

The team moves forward in unison down the hill, using the dark and tall grass to their advantage. Each step made closer to Building One -- approaching the erupting gunfire and explosive blasts -- Ghost felt another part of himself be done away. Parts of himself that were once calm and feared only for himself and the mission's status.

Before long, your helo feels within arm's reach, blocked off by obstacles needing to be tended to. Fear becomes action, only to be fueled by the impending rage he kept within himself.

Ghost would not lose himself tonight, he told himself again and again, don't lose yourself.

He would not lose you either.

It's the smell of burning flesh that wakes you, and the thick taste of iron on your tongue that brings your heart to an erratic drumming.

The world around you is a foggy black, as though you were drowning in dark waters. The gunfire comes in slowly after the taste of blood has settled in your mouth, distant at first, before it blares alongside the shouts and screams of your comrades.

It's then you've heard the loud popping noises of the gunfire, and the thunderous crashing of bombs and RPG blasts just barely missing your position. It shakes the entire ground, rattling your insides, and making the sores on your body swell with pain.

You cough involuntarily before your eyes have even opened, to your dismay, as it ripples a dull pain through you that only grows sharper at every hoarse exhale.

Once your eyes have opened, you're damn near blinded by the growing fires surrounding your crashed helo, the bright fluorescent oranges and yellows hitting your retinas like needles. Your comrades' silhouettes appear blurred and twisted in the flame's light, gathered for cover at the open end of the helo, grabbing whatever ammo hadn't fallen out of the sky to keep them settled until help arrives... if help arrives.

If that help didn't get here soon, there wouldn't be anyone left to save.

One of the two men defending the entrance of the helo is suddenly mowed down, their body becoming riddled with bullet holes. If the crash had already made him worse for wear, then it had been this act after which killed him.

His body crashes to the ground without so much as a scream, and his teammate, Alpha 0-4, who's now been left outside to pick up the pieces alone, does just that. He takes what remained of the marine's ammo and continues to defend his position. It's either that or they all die here and now.

You didn't need to look around and see the rest of your team's dead and butchered bodies -- some from the crash, others from the gunfire soon after -- at this point, this had now become about survival. No matter what, you must keep moving.

You see that you're still buckled in your seat, though your weapon was no longer at your side. It had been the least of your concerns, at the given moment.

You reach for your buckle, pushing back the pain it coarsed through you as your muscles shifted and tugged at the device. The longer it wouldn't unclasp, the more desperate your actions grew.

"Let me get that!"

One of the other marines on your team, Alpha 0-2 you believe it was, rushes over to your aid, having just been assisting another wounded soldier leaning against the walls of the helo. Since the crash, he's been scrambling about trying to help the others, seeing as he had been the least injured one of the lot here.

He pulls a knife out and cuts the straps from you, releasing you from your temporary confinement. The second he does, you feel the weight of your constraints release you, and it feels as though all your insides had been compressed up until this point. The sudden release of pressure overwhelms you, nauseating you.

You fall to your knees in pain, feeling your entire body throb and your brain pulsate in your skull. You did just survive a helicopter crash, so whether or not your mind wanted to, you needed a couple seconds.

Had it not been how light-headed you suddenly felt, the cold breeze that bit at your hip finally tipped you off that you were bleeding. Loose bits of metal must have hit you during the crash; frankly, you were lucky that it only seemed to graze your hip, leaving a nasty gash at your side you only knew would heal poorly later.

The blood dampens your uniform, making your sweat run cold, as you bring a hand to your wound, attempting to soothe away the pain.

"I'd offer you some supplies," Alpha 0-2 says to you, bringing a hand out to help you back to your feet. "But we've barely even got any ammo left as is after that crash, let alone supplies. AQ's been rainin' hell on us since."

You take his hand, gritting your teeth as you'd gotten back to your feet. The hip wound wasn't as bad as it appeared, though your entire body still throbbed from the crash. At this point, if you stopped moving now, your adrenaline would dip, leaving you an exhausted wreck on the ground if you weren't careful.

"We thought you were a goner," the marine only continues. Up until he'd heard you cough, he'd all but been ready to count you as part of the deceased. "We've lost four guys already," he says. "Alpha 0-5's wounded and we're running low on ammo-"

Bullets shakes the helo, making you both duck for cover. AQ only seemed interested in providing one-minute intervals between firing on your position. Whatever little time you once had before, had now been gone.

A small part of you felt desperate to ask 0-2 for answers, wanting to know what could be done, or if this had been hopeless. Your mind was being pulled in so many different directions all at once; it was difficult enough just focusing on breathing and keeping the pain bottled in.

However, you had been Team Lead. if anything, Alpha 0-2 was happy to see you living, because now it means he didn't have to be the one giving out orders anymore. In a matter of minutes, he's watched his team's numbers drop from a group of eight to three. If any hope had been left for them now, it had been you being the extra number, and you being the leader.

With the helo wall pressed hard against your back, your clothes sticking uncomfortably to the blood and sweat which stained your skin, you find thinking a bit more streamlike suddenly.

You look to your side, being fortunate enough to find a spare pistol on one of your fallen teammates. Quickly, you reach over and retrieve the weapon, checking it for ammo first, before turning back to Alpha 0-2.

"Hold this position until Bravo can reach us," you say. "We'll reassess our game plan after we've regrouped."

"Roger that!"

As you always try and do, you put things into perspective for yourself, running by what would happen from this point on.

Soap wouldn't leave you here now. Ghost wouldn't leave you here either. Somehow, you just knew they wouldn't, which made things clear: Wait and survive.

"AUGH!"

Both your heads turn to the entrance of the helo, where you've seen Alpha 0-4, the last man other than you two, get shot.

He falls back to the ground with a heavy thud, grunting out in pain before crawling over to cover behind one of the fallen crates.

"Samson!"

Alpha 0-2 looks about ready to stand up and head out there himself, which sets alarm bells off in your head.

"Wait!" You grab his arm. "I'll go."

"What?! You can't go out there; you're already beat up as is-"

"Which is exactly why I'm going! The last thing we need is for you to get shot as well. Stay here with 0-5 and cover me, I'll bring Samson back in."

You don't give him much time to protest before you've turned your back to him, waiting for an opening between the gunfire before heading out to your comrade. Once the enemy fire ceased, you listen for your cover fire, and in a low crawl, rush out of the helo.

Outside the safety of the crashed metal, the cold night air pools around you in heavy waves. You were scared. You were terrified. One wrong move and that's it -- Light's out.

The realization of your situation hits you as you weave your way over to where your comrade has knelt, the fear and adrenaline buzzing through you as though you were drunk on it. Your actions come to you in a matter of seconds, your body relying on all of its most trained muscle memories to do what needs to be done.

You wanted to do more than you have these last few missions. You wanted to give more, to be more. And now was your chance to show that.

You crouch behind the crate, getting beside your comrade as he looked up to you, both surprised you came and writhing in pain from his wounds. However, up close, his condition had been much worse than you'd hoped, your expression sinking.

The bullets tore completely through his armor, having been shot twice through his chest. The blood pooled around him, only growing the more he shifted against the crate, and it had been clear it was taking all he had in him just to keep breathing.

Enemy gunfire picks up again in the distance, though their focus sits mainly still on the helo, the nightshade providing you with extra cover. It gives you both some time to breathe and assess the situation.

Alpha 0-4's eyes, wide and shaky, look over to you, pleading, and you've felt his trembling hands grab hold of your arm. He doesn't speak, he can't, but his actions say everything to you, and you hadn't come over here to leave him unanswered.

You bring your hands to the soldier's arms, looking him in the eyes and listening for the gunfire. "When they stop firing, I'm gonna bring you back over to the helo, alright?"

He nods.

You keep hold of him the entire time you wait, feeling his grip grow weaker by the second, and your own heart beat in your ears.

The shooting stops, the surrounding woods growing dead silent, apart from the crackle of the fires, and the distant shouting of AQ. You take hold of the soldier, lifting him up from his spot. He yelps as you bring him to his feet, and once he's stood, the minute he tries to walk he stumbles. But you steady him, letting him lean against you as you damn near drag him back to the helo with you.

"I've got you," you assure him, taking in deep breaths to distract from your own pain. "You'll be alright!"

You make it into the helo just before the enemy has started firing on your position again, their bullets kicking the dirt up in front of the helo's entrance. Had you been a few seconds slower, it's safe to say you both would have been taken out.

Inside, you bring Alpha 0-4 over to where 0-5 had been lying injured and unconscious, deciding to keep all the wounded in a single area.

"Look, we made it," you rest the soldier against the wall of the helo, steadying your breathing now that you were safe. Or at least safer than you had been out there. "Let me-"

As you've rested him down, you see the man begin to convulse. His eyes and hands starting to twitch, as gutterly noises erupted from his throat. He groans in pain, unconsciously hugging his arms over his body, as the blood continued to pool from him, his mouth now having spilled its share for itself.

"No, no, no," you begin looking around for anything that could help him -- bandages, morphine, or even just a damn bottle of water. It seems everything had been destroyed in the crash, just as Alpha 0-2 said, save for you yourselves.

His demise had only been a matter of time at this point.

"Try and hang on," you beg. "The others will be here soon."

Yes, you remember to remind yourself that fact. The others are on the way. This whole time they've been on the way. They'll get here on time, you tell yourself. They'll make it here on time. They've got to.

But when they get here, what will they do exactly? What can they do..?

You look to the man's hands, seeing them trembling and shaking. He couldn't stop the tears from falling from his eyes, just as much as he couldn't stop the blood from leaking out.

You can see that he knows.

Unsure of what else to do, you simply reach out and take hold of him, letting your touch soften his grip.

"I'm here," you say. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Alpha copies all!"

You look over to Alpha 0-2 upon hearing him speak over the comms, your heart racing as you see the joy in his face. "They're heading here now."

You don't even try and hide the smile that grows on your face. They'd made it in time after all.

"Look!" you say. "Did you hear that-"

You turn back to 0-4, only to have your smile fall and your heart sink. His grip goes still in your grasp, his eyes glassed over and wide, as his mouth sat lightly parted, the air no longer pulling its way through. Dead.

You had already known he wouldn't make it, and yet...

"Blue! Blue!"

You hear the sound of Ghost's voice boom from behind you, as the sounds of gunfire outside came to a sudden end.

Ghost is the first to enter the helo, and it was Ghost whose eyes you first met the minute he had the chance to search for you. It hadn't even been a struggle for him to find you tucked away toward the back of the helo. But when his eyes finally met yours, it was as though a weight the size of the world had suddenly been lifted off his shoulders.

It seems he hadn't lost you after all. And though it wouldn't be until later that he realizes this, it had almost been laughable how happy it made him feel to see you still here. One of the most unexplainable things he's ever experienced, only that seems to happen a lot with you, he's noticed.

And you couldn't be happier to see him. In fact, you felt the air from your lungs leave you the second his voice traveled in the air. Even as it had still saddened you of the ill-fated outcome of your team.

You can't bring yourself to speak, even as a million words passed through your mind. Had any come out, you may have just lost your composure altogether, overwhelmed with everything that had been and still was going on.

Ghost steps further into the helo, lowering his rifle and almost instinctively making his way over to you. You watch his gaze fall to the injured and deceased behind you, and then to your wounded hip.

It's there you've seen something change in him.

"Ghost..?" Your voice breaks when you speak, to your dismay. It takes all you can not to break down, now that you've allowed too much time to settle and for your troubled emotions to fester, your body screaming at you for aid.

Hearing your voice now, so tattered and broken... Ghost wishes he hadn't, even as it had been everything he hadn't known he needed to hear right now. Just the simple sound of you again.

Ghost had wanted to address you, having felt the urge to speak to you, and yet not having wanted to overstep the boundaries you two had created up to this point. The ones he has all but painstakingly made. However, you move forward before he can speak, and without so much as a word, you embrace him.

Ghost stands frozen, feeling as your arms tremble over him, your face buried into his chest, pressed uncomfortably to his gear. Your body moved almost involuntarily, merely needing to hold onto something, anything. Anyone. If only for a few seconds.

You hadn't expected him to reciprocate. Hell, you were fully prepared for him to push you to the side and reprimand you for distracting him from the mission. However, something comes over the man, an impulse that had been with him his entire journey here, and it's somehow wrapped his arms around you too, holding you tight, as though to make up for all the times he couldn't bring himself to do so properly before.

At this very moment, he truly realizes that you are alive. You are alive, and he cared more for you than he should ever have let himself.

"Canary?"

But it's Soap's voice that finally wakes you up.

You've pulled away from Ghost almost as quickly as you've taken hold, your attention being dragged in another direction.

You see the Scot emerge from behind the lieutenant, and immediately his blue eyes have fallen on you, lighting up with the twinkle of a thousand stars at the sight. He says nothing -- he wouldn't have the words to say anything good right now anyway -- he instead comes your way and takes you into his arms as well. Only unlike Ghost, who had been reserved and caught off guard by your touch at first, Soap had reciprocated your need to be held immediately, tenfold.

Soap pulled away from you, though he'd been reluctant to let go, only now noticing your injury.

Never in your life have you wanted to lean in and kiss someone before so badly like this, let alone in combat. Looking into Soap's eyes, you could see he'd felt the same way, the only thing holding you two back being your current responsibilities. That and the eyes of your lieutenant, who had watched you two silently since converging.

"Thank Christ you made it," Soap says, his eyes dropping to your wound again.

"It's not as bad as it looks," you say.

"Damn good to see you guys." Alpha 0-2 chimes in. Naturally, everyone's attention falls back on him, coming back to the task at hand. "We got five KIA, one wounded. It's just my gun and I'm low on ammo," he starts to make his way over to you and Alpha 0-5. "Help me move him-"

"No time," Ghost moves over to one of the helo's windows, checking the perimeter from his position. "They're here. Get your gun on that tree line."

Soap gives you one final look, his hands tightening over your arms. You can do nothing else but look back at him, sharing silent words with one another.

Your brief moment of levity had now come to an end. Granted, there had been no rest for the wicked. You still had a job to do.

To Be Continued...

Author's Note: At first I was gonna have more go on with Ghost and Canary/Reader, however, as I was typing it, I was just like, "that wouldn't happen right here", so it didn't.

I kind of run out of things to say here in the notes. I sincerely appreciate all of you who continue to read and support this series, it truly means the world to me and it's one of my biggest motivations to see this story through. I really don't want this plot to turn out poorly or not worth it.

I would like to upload more quickly, but alas, life has really been hitting me with the wombo-combos lately. But the next chapter will wrap this mission up, and then after that, Ghost x Reader girlies, I hope you're ready for mess 😈. Stay Tuned~

Taglist: @sleepless-atnight @sarraa-26 @quincessimus ꒰ · ◡ · ꒱

[quindolyn]

Better Kisser Part 2 || James Potter and Lily Evans

Request: “istg i need a fic or a blurb or something about being in a poly relationship with lily and james...after reading Better Kisser it’s all i can think about 😭” -anon

and

“hiii !! first of all, i love your writings they’re so amazing honestly !! could you maybe write something with hot lily from “better kisser” ? i’d love it if it was both sensual and fluff :) thanks so much if you ever do something like that! hope you have a nice day/night!“ -anon

and

“QUINN HEAR ME OUT

imagine a part two to better kisser but like smutty bc Lily starts bragging about how she thinks she’s better at other things since she’s the better kisser so they make it a competition over who can like... get the reader off fastest... and then it’s like a competition to see who can get her off the most...

good ideas here right...? N E ways love u bestie <3″ -anon

Word Count: 4,752

Notes:I got three separate requests for this so obviously y’all wanted it and I want to write it. This is smut! I could also do headcanons on Jily x reader and even if you guys don’t request it I’ll probably still write them because it sounds like fun.

Warnings: poly sex, jily x reader, dom!James, dom!Lily, sub!reader, LIly’s a sex god, prove me wrong, they’re both cocky as fuck

Part 1

Masterlist

Lily Evans was the stars, she was mesmerizing and mysterious. Just as they decorated the night sky, accentuating the darkness through their beauty she too brought out the best in those around her without dulling any of her own shine. She was sly smiles and gentle touches, slender pale fingers and long, swishing red hair. She was wondrous and beautiful, complex and absolutely gorgeous. Lily Evans, she was the stars.

James Potter was the sun, he was bright and glowing and impossible to ignore. James was messy black hair, and goofy grins, strong hands and bear hugs. He attracted all of those around him, sucking them into his gravitational field, giving them purpose, warming their souls. A centering person when the rest of their lives were crazy and unpredictable and scary. James Potter, he was the sun.

Where Lily was understated and controlled with her witty remarks and sharp quips James was loud and boisterous, trying to get the biggest reaction out of people. Where Lily was calm James was chaotic. Where she was focused on her end goal he was everywhere, practically bouncing off the walls.

Together they were perfect.

And somehow they were yours.

One thing was for certain, Sirius Black was an upright prick, and you owed him, bigtime. If it weren’t for Sirius Black you would’ve never kissed Lily Evans on a dare. You would’ve never kissed James to satisfy his curiosities. You wouldn’t have spent weeks exchanging tense glances with the two, holding your breath whenever one of them so much as sat down one seat away from you in the Great Hall. Lily would’ve never found you, hiding away in the common room in the wee hours of the morning, pouring over your Transfiguration notes preparing for your test the following morning, or rather later in the day. She never would’ve brushed the hair out of your face with her elegant fingers, nails painted in a berry shade, complimenting her pale skin. She never would’ve told you that you really needed to go to bed, she never would’ve leaned down, meshing her lips with yours, allowing you to answer that question that had plagued you after you kissed Lily. 

What did her lips taste like when she wasn’t drunk?

The answer?

Well at that moment, morning breath. Which brought a new question to the forefront of your mind, what did she taste like when she hadn’t just woken up in the middle of the night?

It didn’t take long for you to find out the answer. She’d brought you up to bed, her hand clasped with yours, telling you that she and James wanted to talk to you in the morning resulting in you tossing and turning all night in anticipation of the conversation that would take place the next day.

If it weren’t for Sirius Black you never would’ve had that conversation with James and Lily by the Black Lake. You never would’ve even had the opportunity to accept their offer not to join their relationship but to start a new one, with all three of you. You never would have never learned what Lily tasted like, it was maple syrup and cherries by the way.

If it weren’t for Sirius Black you wouldn’t be sitting in your dorm room with the two of them, skimming over notes for your potions midterm. Well you and Lily were looking over your extensive notes, James on the other hand was sitting behind you, pressing kisses to the side of your neck.

You hissed as he dragged his teeth over a bruised spot on your neck, sending ripples of both pain and pleasure through your body, leaving your fingertips tingling, dying to get themselves on his skin.

“Aw, baby,” He cooed in your ear as he registered your reaction, it’s not as though he could’ve missed it, not with your back pressed flush against his chest, “You a little sensitive there?”

“Come on Jamie,” You giggle trying to hide your neck from him, pressing your ear to your shoulder, “You already know I am.”

James slipped his rough, strong fingers under your jaw, using them to lift your head back up, away from your shoulder, “Don’t hide from me darling, wanna see the marks I left on you.” He returned his lips to the same spot on your neck, lapping slightly at the purple mark with his tongue.

Lily snorted from where she laid on her stomach a couple inches away from you on the same bed that had been transfigured to accommodate all three of you.

“What’s so funny Lils?” James inquired, peeking up from the delicate skin covering your thrumming pulse.

“Nothing,” She sang, twirling her pen in between her fingers, her feet hanging lazily in the air, “I just think it's funny you think you left that mark on her.”

“Well I did,” James said plainly, obviously not amused by Lily’s comment, “Didn’t I poppet?” He asked, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear.

You ducked your head, trying to hide your wide eyes and heated cheeks from the two of them. 

“It’s okay (Y/N),” Lily cooed, setting her quill down in her book, marking her page as she closed the book, dropping it onto the floor, “You can tell him it was me who left that, his ego can take it.” She held eye contact with you for a minute, managing to keep a straight face before a smile broke out across her lips, chuckles erupting from the soft cushions of her lips, lathered in a light pink gloss, “Okay, it probably can’t but that shouldn’t stop you baby, Jamie needs to remember that he’s not the only one who can make you feel good.”

“I know I’m not Flower, but I left this one, I can tell, it's one of the darker ones.” And he was right, the entire left side of your neck was littered in bruises and bites, some lighter than others, some darker, but none as dark as the one he was currently tracing with his index finger.

“Nope,” Lily countered, popping her p before pushing herself up off of her shins in order to settle between your open legs, “I distinctly remember, I had her pressed up against the wall before you got back from Quidditch practice, she moaned so pretty for me, prettier than she ever has for you.” She grinned victoriously, turning her gaze back to you, and only you, “It’s like he cares more about that fucking snitch than he does us.”

“That’s bullshit love and you know it,” He murmured in your ear pressing a kiss against the corner of your mouth before dragging his lips, considerably less rough than they were before you started dating him as you’d made it your mission to apply lip balm to his lips every time you saw him, across the side of your face back to your ear, “She’s just trying to turn you against me, she’s so mean isn’t she.”

They loved doing this. Making you choose between the two of them, or trying to anyway. The power struggle between the two of them was hot as fuck.

Before you could so much as open your mouth Lily was responding for you, “I’m not mean doll,” She crooned, not looking at you but rather focusing on the dark haired boy whose nimble fingers were expertly pulling at the hem of your shirt, slowly but steadily rolling up the material until it covered just was much as your bra, “Jamie just needs to remember who the better kisser here is, who makes you feel the best.”

Ignoring her jab James murmured a quick, “Want this off,” In your ear before pulling the shirt over your head and arms, tossing it off the bed and onto the floor paying it no mind as soon as the material slipped from his fingers. 

Desperate to prove his worth, to prove his dominance James’ hands ran up and down your thighs, inching your skirt up them, “You’re not the better kisser here Flower, you’re not the best anything. Our baby here loves me the most.”

“She told us James,” Lily sighed, clearly exasperated with your boyfriend, “After she kissed you for the first time she told us. I’m the better kisser, just accept it. She likes me the most don’t you (Y/N/N)?”

“Jamie you make me feel so good,” You began, hoping to soften the blow, “But Lily’s tongue is magic, feels so good in my mouth, in my-my…” 

“It’s okay pretty girl,” She simpered, “You can say it, where does my mouth feel good?”

“My pussy,” You forced out, willing yourself not to stutter. 

“That’s right my pretty little kitten,” She grinned, tilting your chin up with her index finger so that you were staring into her swirling emerald irises, darkened with obvious desire. “I make your pussy feel so good, better than Jamie.”

“Off.” James demanded, not taking kindly to Lily’s teasing, as he aggressively undid the clasp on your bra, the snide remarks obviously doing no damage to his ego as he pulled the straps from your arms. Taking no care with the expensive, luxurious garment that he himself had bought for you he flung the clothing over his shoulder. Clearly not caring about the money he’d spent on it as the silky material crumpled next to the bed.

“Not just my tongue that makes you feel better isn’t that right my darling?” Lily smirked, beginning to undo the buttons on her button up, “S’my fingers too, stretching you out on my fingers, they can reach so much further in you than his can.”

“Pfft,” James shook his head, one hand settling on your waist, gripping with a frankly frightening strength, no doubt melding dark purple bruises in the shapes of his fingertips on your soft skin.

“Gimme your hand Flower, let me show our baby that you’re wrong” James demanded as the hand not on your waist extended towards the redhead. When she dropped her hand in his he immediately lined them up, palm against palm, fingers against fingers, and much to James’ chagrin his hands were only barely larger than hers. His palm was much larger than hers leaving his fingers slightly shorter than his girlfriend’s.

Feeling benevolent, you grabbed his hand before it dropped down to his thigh in defeat, pressing your hands together as he had pressed his to Lily’s. Yours were considerably smaller than his, and therefore her’s too, your palm nearly half the size as his, your fingers dwarfed by his. 

“See Jamie, your hands are bigger than mine.” You comforted, mesmerized by the contrast, “Your fingers make me feel so much better than mine ever could. They don’t even come close.” 

“But that’s besides the point right poppet?” Lily questioned, grasping your jaw in her graceful hand, you noticed her ivory dress shirt now hung open, revealing her red lace clad breasts as she once again tilting your head up to look her in the eyes, “Because you’re not allowed to touch yourself, not without my permission.”

“Or mine,” James piped up.

Rolling her eyes at her boyfriend Lily released her grip on your jaw, “Keep your eyes on me darling, be my good girl.”

“You even like my strap more than you like James’ cock, stretches you out so much better than he ever could. Not to mention we don’t have to wait for his little blue pill to work do we?”

Being a muggle born you understood her joke but James was utterly bewildered by your shared laughter.

“You’re not laughing at me are you, you little slut?” James spat, his voice hard and unwavering as he turned your face with a single finger so that your neck was craned to look at him.

“N-no,” You shook your head pathetically, your eyes flashing downwards not being able to meet him.

“Open,” He commanded, tapping your bottom lip and you instantly obeyed, not daring to disobey him. You were rewarded for your obedience by the male spitting into your mouth, the taste of his saliva bleeding along the expanse of your tongue.

“What do we say to Jamsie, pretty girl?” Lily raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Thank you.”

“Good girl,” James muttered, watching as you swallowed the gift he’d given you, “Thought you’d forgotten your manners for a second.”

“Not our good girl,” Lily grinned, somehow now only in her thong, “No, she’s such a good girl for us.”

“Guess she is,” James agreed, leaving a trail of kisses between your shoulder blades.

“Bet I can make our baby cum first James,” Lily boasted, beginning to work on the zipper of your skirt, expertly pulling it off of your legs, “Being the better kisser and all.”

“Don’t get cocky Evans,” James tutted, pulling his shirt over his head as he had yours, “You know I love your strap baby but it just can’t compare to my cock. Mine’s real.”

Clearly unimpressed by his comment Lily pressed her lips to yours, maneuvering you so that you too were on your knees, giving James time to strip down to the same level of clothing as the two of you. 

Smiling into the kiss she put but a millimeter of distance between the two of you to catch her breath, “You taste so good kitten.”

“You’re the one who tastes good Lily.”

“So nice to me, don’t deserve you,” She planted a kiss to the hollow of your throat, “Let me make you feel good baby.” 

Not complaining, you let Lily lie you back on the bed where James was no longer standing, instead now standing behind Lily, letting his hands settle on her hips. 

Once you were lying down she hooked her hands under your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed as James helped her off the mattress, helping her plant her feet on the floor. It was things like this, the subtle loving gestures and actions even when they were practically at each other’s throats, that reminded you of how much they loved each other. Of how much they loved you.

“Look at these,” Lily lilted, her finger hooking under the silky material of your panties, “So pretty aren’t they J?”

“Very,” He whispered in her ear only loud enough for you to barely hear him, “Like her in red.”

Lily hummed in affirmation, tapping your hip as a non verbal clue to lift your hips so she could pull them off of you.

She didn’t waste a single second before kneeling down before you so that her face was level as your glistening pussy, already so wet from them just talking about pleasuring you. 

After running a single finger through your folds Lily brought her finger to her lips, a hum leaving her lips. “You taste good down here too (Y/N), you have such a pretty pussy.”

“Thank you,” You murmured, attempting not to whine and be their good girl even though you desperately wanted them to touch you. 

Without any warning Lily inserted two slender fingers into your cunt causing you to gasp at the sensation. “Lily,” You whimpered, trying not to buck your hips towards her hand, not wanting to let on quite yet how desperate you really were. 

“See J?” You could hear the smirk on her lips as she slowly moved her fingers in and out of you, paying you no other mind, instead directing her attention to her boyfriend who still stood behind her, his hands now on her bare shoulders. “She’s really not all that hard to please when you actually know what you’re doing. Had my fingers in her two seconds and she’s already so needy for me.”

“Shut up Lils,” James growled, “Stop talking like I don’t know how to get her off, she’s my baby too, I know exactly how to get her desperate.” In his efforts to prove his point he moved onto the bed, taking one of your nipples into his mouth resulting in a whine to tumble from your lips as he raked his teeth over the sensitive bud.

As his mouth sucked on one his hand moved to the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers before pinching harshly making you gasp in pleasure.

Lily allowed James to have his moment before taking your clit between her lips and sucking. If you gasped for James you absolutely screamed for Lily, thank Merlin for silencing charms because otherwise someone would’ve probably thought you were being tortured. Once she had your sensitive bundle of nerves in her mouth she began humming, making wave after wave of intense ecstasy roll through your core and up your spine, leaving your nerve endings frayed and responsive to every single touch.

You could feel everything, the soft material of the duvet beneath your back, James’ tongue circling your nipple, one hand caressing your heated cheek while the other traced shapes down your stomach. You could feel Lily’s fingers continuing their assault on your cunt, reaching so deep inside of you that they almost touched your g-spot, but not quite, as your clit was set aflame by her mouth. 

“You’re not even trying,” Lily snarked, coming up for a breather from in between your legs, “You really think you’re gonna get  her to cum from playing with her nipples? I never realized you were that daft Jamsie.”

“If you’d give me a turn,” He began before Lily cut him off.

“Doesn’t look like she wants me to stop does it?” She nodded in your direction where you were writhing on the bed merely from her fingers. “Do you want me to stop, baby?”

“No,” You begged, “Please don’t stop, please! Need your fingers in me, make me feel so good.”

Grinning triumphantly Lily returned her mouth to your pulsing cunt, sucking with a new found vigor that had your back careening off of the mattress, hips bucking towards her mouth.

“Hey,” James scolded, moving his arm to keep your hips firmly on the bed, “Don’t be a desperate slut, take it as she gives you it okay? Be good for us.”

Nodding feebly you willed your hips still but it was nearly impossible as Lily replaced her fingers with her tongue, moving her digits to pinch your clit. Feeling the pleasure bubble up in your stomach you focused on your girlfriend’s ministrations, lapping at your hole with her tongue sent you into a whole new level of pleasure.

“Feels so good! Lily, that feels so good, please don’t stop!”

You could feel her smiling into your opening as she sped up her movements, bringing you closer and closer to the precipice of climax. “Am I allowed to cum?” You asked desperately, the only thing keeping your hips where they were being James’ strong forearm, digging into your hip bones.

“No,” He growled, slapping at your tit bringing you even closer to something you were apparently not allowed to do. 

“Come on James,” Lily said replacing her tongue with her fingers as she moved her head to talk to the dark haired boy, “You can’t just tell her she’s not allowed to cum because it’s not you who’s going to make her cum,” Turning her attention back to you she smiled, “Of course you’re allowed to cum baby, don’t listen to him. Are you close, m’love?”

“Uh huh,” You screwed your eyes shut, the pleasure becoming overwhelming and only intensifying when Lily’s mouth returned to your clit, licking broad stripes up and down it. 

“Baby look at me,” James’ deep voice commanded you, to which you promptly obeyed, “Wanna see you when you fall apart on her tongue, wanna see you cum baby, you’re so pretty when you cum.”

James’ words accompanied by a particularly harsh nip by Lily to your clit has you tipping over the edge, letting out a high pitched scream as pleasure took over your body, drowning you in the feeling of your lovers still working on your body, obviously not satisfied with leaving you with just one orgasm.

As you came to, your orgasm slowly seeped away from your cloudy mind, reentering you into your dorm room where you heard Lily’s melodic voice, “See James, told you I could make her cum first.”

“Didn’t even get a chance,” He grumbled from his place next you, brushing the hairs off of your forehead. “Wanna make you cum poppet, tell Lily to give me a turn.”

“L-lils,” You managed in your post orgasmic haze, “Want Jamsie, want his- want his…”

“Look at how good of a job I did on our baby,” The redhead boasted, “Just one in and already a blubbery little mess. How do you think she’s gonna be fairing when I have her on her fourth?”

“Only shooting for four Lils?” James raised a defined eyebrow, “I was thinking I could get at least five out of her myself.”

Your eyes widened, slightly in alarm, slightly in anticipation. “F-five?”

“Shh kitten, let us talk,” Lily chaisted lightly. “You really do think highly of yourself don’t you Potter?”

“I’ve done it before,” He countered.

“No, we’ve done it before, both of us. Neither of us have ever gotten her to five by ourselves.”

“Don’t think you can do it Flower?” As he rose from the bed and moved towards Lily you caught sight of his cock, already painfully hard, the tip a bright red and leaking with precum.

“S’not me I’m worried about, don’t wanna overwhelm our baby.”

“I can do it,” You piped in feebly, “I can take it, make me feel good please, wanna feel good.”

“See Lily? If she says she can take it, who are we to question her?”

“You sure poppet?” Lily asked you, her eyes on yours.

“Yes Lily, I’m sure.”

That was all James needed to nudge Lily out from between your legs, spitting on his fingers before rubbing them up against your pussy. “You need me to stretch you out darling?” His voice laced with absolute adoration as he took in your perspiring figure from this new angle.

You shook your head but James wasn’t satisfied, “Wanna hear your voice poppet, come on not too fucked out yet are you?”

“No, don’t need you to stretch me out, want your cock.”

He grinned, lining up the tip of his cock with your quivering entrance, “There’s my good girl.”

As he pushed into you you faintly questioned why you didn’t have him stretch you out beforehand, but once he was fully sheathed inside you all you could think about was the way his dick pressed perfectly against your g-spot. 

You moaned out as he began thrusting into you, ruthless in his efforts to make you cum. He moved his hands to hold your hips at an angle where he could better reach deeper inside of you if that was even possible.

“So pretty baby girl,” His grin was wicked as he watched your cunt, reveling in the sight of his cock going in and out of your dripping pussy, “You look so pretty on my cock, you gonna make a mess f’me?”

“She’s not gonna cum yet you himbo,” Lily interjected, “You’ve been inside her what? Five seconds? You need her to cum soon? You close?”

Using Lily’s mocking as motivation he pistoned his hips in and out even more viciously, leaving you a bouncing mess on his cock as he pulled his prick almost all the way out, so that only the leaking red head was still inside of you before fully sheathing himself in you once more.

“Fuck!” You cried out as the tip of his member brushed against your cervix, “Don’t stop!”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” James managed through gritted teeth, throwing your legs over his shoulders so that he wouldn’t have to hold them in his hands any longer, giving him the ability to grip your hips.

So lost in your pleasure you hadn’t registered where Lily was until she sat next to you on the bed, moving her fingers to massage your clit pulling a strangled gasp from your throat.

“L-Lily,” You stuttered out.

“Hey there baby,” She cooed, like she was talking to an actual child, “Jamie making you feel good.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on hers.

“You close, kitten? You gonna cum soon?”

A whimper escaped your lips this time as you nodded once more.

“Let me see if I can help with that then, wanna see you cum again pretty girl.”

You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress with a soft thud as Lily’s fingers started working magic on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to your second orgasm.

A slap against your clit, combined with the deep, hard thrusts of your boyfriend, reaching depths within you you could’ve only imagined before him sent you careening. Your climax washed over you in waves, each stronger than the last making you twitch and spasm on the bed.

You hadn’t even registered that you’d squirted, not until Lily’s delicate hands were rubbing your release up and down your thighs, “Well would you look at that?” James grinned, “I didn’t see you make her squirt Lils.”

“Oh, you don’t get points for this one pretty boy,” Lily grinned, not making eye contact with him but rather focusing on your pulsing cunt.

“What?” James was incredulous, “What do you mean I don’t get credit for that one, she came on my cock.”

“Yes, technically, but she only came when I started on that pretty little clit of hers, so responsive isn’t it, doll?” She asked, punctuating her remark with a gentle slap against your still throbbing cunt and a quick wink that James was too bewildered to pick up on.

Over the next couple of hours they were able to lull a number of orgasms out of you, James making Lily sit in a chair next to the bed so that she couldn’t touch you at all and take credit for any of his hard work.

You’d cum on her tongue and his, both of their fingers, once at the same time, they split the credit for that one but it was worth it, getting to watch your cunt stretch around both of them. You came on James’ cock more times than you could count, and of course on Lily’s strap on because Godric, did she know how to move her hips.

By the end you’d cum a grand total of nine times. You weren’t quite sure how’d you’d done it but you had. And they were both so proud of you.

The final score was Lily, five. James, four. You’d better believe that James was butt hurt about it, not quite willing to accept his obvious defeat, instead of acknowledging it and conceding to his very talented girlfriend, working on getting you cleaned up.

Once James had left the dorm to run you a bath Lily scooped you into her lap, running her hands up and down your thighs but being careful not to touch your sensitive cunt. 

“You did such a good job for us baby,” She cooed, pressing kiss after kiss to the back of your head, “Came nine times, can you believe that?”

“Is Jamie going to be mad that you made me cum more?” You asked in your degenerative head space not wanting to upset your boyfriend.

“Of course not,” Lily squeezed your hips, soothing your woes. “Especially not at you, he might mope around a little bit because he is a man,” She pulled a light giggle out of your lips with that one, “But he’ll get over it, it's just gonna push him to work harder next time when he’s making you feel good.”

“Flower,” James called from the bathroom, “Bath’s ready.”

“Come on baby,” Lily said, easing you up onto your feet, “Let’s get you in the bath and all cleaned up for us alright?”

“Okay,” You yawned, understandably exhausted by the events of the night, “Will you take the bath with me?”

“Of course my pretty girl, not gonna let Jamie join us though, s’my reward for being the best.”

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement, “Sounds good Lils.”

As she settled you into the bathtub Lily ordered James out before he could step into it with you.

“But-”

“Out!”

“Fine! Fine, I’m going!”

Lily was the stars and James was the sun, and fuck did they know how to make you feel good.

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts​ @kittykylax​ @amourtentiaa

[a-kaash-me-outside]

Hiya! I am definitely on the writing block train with ya, I’m sending all the positive writer vibes your way tori!

You’re writing is always something I look forward to reading- I just- *chef’s kiss*

In the event of overcoming this writing slump I would love to req. some nsfw bokuto x reader with the lovely smut prompt of either #55 or #99?

Thank you and I truly believe that you can ko this writing block’s ass😉.

but I’m hungry

// nsfw (minors dni!!), f!reader, oral f!receiving, no seriously some good good pussy eating thanks, domestic smut mmm

ty for the posi vibes, but more so, thank u for req bokuto because i have been on a bokuto brainrot for like,,, mmm ~~ weeks thanks ,, srsly one of the best things I’ve written I think so this is a part of my 3k event ! ~ go request smthn or send me hcs

“You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.” His head is still in the refrigerator when you enter the kitchen. Either he is disgustingly aware of your morning routine or your footsteps aren't as light as you thought.

"It is 7 in the morning, don't you think it's a little early for stupid pickup lines?" Your eyes are half-lidded, still contemplating going back to sleep instead of starting your day as a blurry Bokuto takes 3 strides to meet you where you stand.

He wastes no time wrapping his arms tightly around you. "Who said it was a stupid pickup line? Maybe I'm just hungry for something in particular this morning."

"Don't you have practice in like an hour?" you ask, rubbing your eyes with one hand so you can actually focus on your boyfriend.

"But I'm hungry," he whines, pressing his forehead to yours, pleading eyes waiting for any bit of approval that you'll give him. You lock your arms together around his neck as you nod. What were you supposed to do? Turn him down?

The pleas in his eyes are replaced with excitement and a more unapologetic hunger as he lifts you, quickly making his way to the counter. You can't help your laugh, "What? No bedroom?"

His fingers are already hooked into the waistband of your shorts and underwear when he looks up at you, joking confusion all over his face that almost immediately turns into a grin. "I'm eating in the kitchen where I'm supposed to."

He pulls them off in one motion, nudging your legs apart with his own before lowering himself and hooking his arms under your knees, locking his fingers together on your lower back.

It's always a gamble when Bo gets in between your legs. Some days he takes his time, teases you for hours using only the tip of his tongue until you're so sensitive that his breath could make you come if he asked you to. Some days he savors it, letting you come whenever you feel it approaching, but staying buried between your legs for as long as he can hold his breath so he doesn't have to be away from you.

Some days he wants to make you come as many times as you can handle just to prove to himself and you how much power he has. Some days he goes as hard as he can, using whatever he can to hear those unbelievable noises you make, making a huge mess of you and wherever you are.

Today... Today your boyfriend is hungry, starving actually from the looks of it as he stares between your legs, mouth watering as he just takes in how fucking pretty you are.

He looks up at you, not for permission, but so that you can see the gratitude that's taking over every single one of his features. His eyes are locked on yours, focus resting on the golden color as he inches closer to you, mouth open and tongue out.

Your jaw relaxes, mouth opening slightly as your tongue rests against your bottom lip, waiting with bated breath as you feel yourself growing wetter.

He licks a long strip between your lips, dipping into your hole before running the flat of his tongue against your clit. It's the most control that he exhibits all morning. Tasting you on his tongue, feeling your juices coat his tongue, all of his restraint is gone.

He buries himself as deep between your legs as is physically possible, his nose pressed up against your clit as he slurps whatever wetness he can, using his bottom lip to make sure that he doesn't miss any of it.

"mmm taste so fucking good," he mumbles against your pussy, the vibrations making your thighs clench. "fuck, baby, baby, you taste so fucking good." You're already coming, lacing your fingers into his hair as he moans into you, tongue diving so deep into your cunt, scooping out all of the cum that he can.

But he wants more. He needs more. It's not enough. He pulls you closer to him and you're convinced that he can't breathe. Your thighs are engulfing him and your pussy is suffocating him and he has never looked happier. You've lost his eye contact from how submerged he is between your legs. You know that they're probably shut in concentration and appreciation, but your fingers are digging into his shoulders and you're whimpering and you just want to see how much he's enjoying it. "Bo, mm, please look at me."

He pulls back only enough for you to watch his eyelid flutter open and see the drunk-like look in his eyes, but it doesn't last for long because you're coming on his tongue again and he needs every drop.

Time doesn't exist in this moment. You've lost track of how many times you've came and how many breathes he's taken. Your legs are tired from tensing so hard and you're sure that Bo's back is raw at this point and you have absolutely no thoughts in your head other than how in love with him you are and he shows zero signs of stopping.

Despite his best efforts, between his spit and how many times he's made you come, you're dripping onto the counter beneath you so much so that you are so grateful for the hold that Bo has on you because otherwise you would be sliding all over the counter. Your fingers are gripped onto the edge of the counter now, no longer clawing down Bo's back.

You're coming down from what you're quite positive is your 15th orgasm when you hear a vibration against the counter. You're out of breath and your mind is foggy, but you can see Bo's phone buzzing, the screen lighting up with Atsumu's face and a time that is most definitely later than you thought.

"Baby," you murmur, but it's like he doesn't even hear you. "Bokuto," you say, louder his time, reaching to grab his phone, sitting upright as you unclench your thighs from around him.

At the absence of you completely surrounding him, he looks up at you. The entire lower half of his face is sheened with you and no matter how many times he swallows, it's not enough. It's catching up to him now being buried between your legs, taking deep breaths to compose himself.

"'s Atsumu," you say, offering his phone to him. "You are very late for practice."

By the time Bokuto finally composes himself, the phone stops ringing, but he doesn't make any moves to get up. He licks his lips, savoring the lingering taste of you and you swear to God if his phone didn't start ringing as soon as it stopped, he would've kept going.

You can barely hear Atsumu from the other side of the line, angrily asking where he's at and if he slept passed his alarm. Your eyes are trained on Bo as he looks up at you and then between your legs once again. "Yeah, I'm actually not feeling good this morning. I thought I texted Meian, but the text must not have sent. I'll be there Thursday though."

You can't focus on whatever response Atsumu gives, but it sounds apologetic enough, all you can focus on is the way that the corner's of Bo's lips upturn into a smile as he nods with fake concern. "Yeah, right, I will. Thanks, 'Tsumu."

And then he hangs up the phone.

"Sorry, where were we?" he asks, wasting no time before closing the gap and picking up right where he left off.

♡ leave a tip ! ♡ ♡ reblogs & likes appreciated ♡

[venicebixch]

My Second Half part 2

this part has mentions of a tiny bit of blood, anxiety, a PTSD episode, angst, and an argument but there’s also a little fluff where Vinnie comforts y/n. enjoy.

Y/n sits down on the ground, taking a moment to catch her breath. She scans the room that’s scattered with her friend Cara’s belongings and sighs, realizing just how much work they have left to do.

Cara recently found out that her boyfriend has been cheating on her. Obviously, things weren’t going to work out between them and now here y/n is, caught up in the mess of everything and helping Cara move out.

And while she absolutely doesn’t mind helping, this certainly isn’t a small job. Luckily, Vinnie was willing to help so everything gets done a little faster and he can give them some man power for the bigger stuff.

She brings her hand to her forehead, moving the hair out of her face and wiping away the thin layer of sweat that was starting to build before standing again and taping up the box in front of her.

She slides her hand under one side and lifts with her legs to heave the box up to chest level before stumbling out of the room, hardly able to see anything in front of her.

As she turns the corner to the hallway, her unsteady steps stop with a jolt when she runs into someone.

“Oops, sorry,” she says quickly, peering around from the side of the box to see Jacob standing there with his jaw clenched and and his lips tightened.

“What are you doing?” He asks in a deep voice. Deeper than normal. He’s sounds pissed.

She looks at him with confusion for a moment before the realization washes over her that Cara probably didn’t tell him that she was moving out - that would explain why it just had to be today first thing in the morning when Jacob was supposed to be at work.

She quickly tries to come up with a response but before she can speak, Jacob rips the box from her hands, scratching her finger in the process. She lets out a light gasp and looks down to see blood already starting to come to the surface.

“You need to get the fuck out,” he says, slamming the box down.

The box is full of perfume bottles and other glass items so the sound was loud and startling, making her jump a little. She looks up at him thinking of what she should say or do next.

She doesn’t want to make the situation worse when he’s clearly already angry and decides it would be best to just stay quiet and go find Cara. She moves to the side to walk around him but he grabs her arm tightly and pulls her closer to him.

His grip makes her stomach drop and her heart starts to pound in her chest so hard that she can hear every thud of it in her ears. The first thing that comes to her mind is Vinnie. Her eyes quickly scan down the hall and out to the living room looking for him but there’s no sign of him.

“Where’s Cara?” He asks, peering down at her.

She swallows, trying to find her voice. “I… I don’t know exactly where she is. But she’s here,” she squeaks out.

“Cara!” He yells. His loud voice booms down the hall and echos off the walls, making y/n tense up. She hates confrontation and she hates fighting. It reminds her too much of her childhood and the toxic environment she grew up in.

“Cara, come here now!” He yells again, tightening his grip on her arm. He starts to move, pulling her with him in a huff of anger.

She moves without fighting, and tries to take a few deep breaths to calm herself but it’s not working. Her mind becomes clouded with vivid memories of the way her father used to treat her and the overwhelming sense of being powerless and out of control of her own body starts to creep in.

Before she can help it, her deep breaths quickly turn to hyperventilation and she yanks her arm back, still unable to get free from his grip. “Please let me go,” she says with panic in her voice.

He ignores her, acting completely obvious to her unsettled behavior. Tears start to overflow on to her cheeks and her chest feels as though it’s tightening, making each breath harder to take.

From upstairs, Vinnie and Cara hear the commotion and they look at each other.

“He’s supposed to be at work,” she says, shaking her head.

“Why does he sound so mad?”

“I didn’t tell him I’m moving out. I knew he would make it so much harder than it needs to be,” she sighs and lays the clothes she was folding on the bed.

Vinnie’s stomach turns a little knowing y/n is down there and hoping that she’s back in a room, away from Jacob. This is exactly the kind of thing that can trigger an episode in her.

He puts the picture he had in his hands down and quickly makes his way to the stairs. As he enters the living room, he locks eyes with Jacob and then notices his grip on y/n’s arm and the fearful look in her eyes as she strains against him.

Right away he knows she must be having active flashbacks - he’s seen it happen in her a few times before and the look that consumes her face face is unmistakable. His eyes narrow as surge of anger and adrenaline courses through his body.

Before he can think, his feet take a few steps toward them, with his first instinct being to crack Jacob’s jaw in 3 different places for laying a hand on y/n. But then he stops in his tracks realizing that he shouldn’t stress her anymore than she already is.

He clenches his shaking hands into fists and takes a deep breath to calm himself before speaking in a stern voice. “Let her go right now.”

“Where’s Cara?” Jacobs asks, pointing at him.

Vinnie hesitates to tell him, hating to send him to her but y/n feels far more important in this moment. “She’s upstairs.”

Finally Jacob releases her arm and storms up the stairs. Y/n’s feet stay planted on the the floor as she looks at Vinnie through tear blurred eyes. Her whole body feels tense and her hands grip the bottom of her shirt, rubbing the fabric between her fingers as she tries to suppress the urge to burst out in either anger or hysteria.

She hears an argument break out upstairs between Cara and Jacob but the words sound muffled through her heart beat and she’s unable to make out exactly what’s being said. And even though she’s looking directly at Vinnie, she’s not able to acknowledge to herself that he’s actually there as her mind stays filled with flashbacks.

Vinnie can tell see that she’s not fully with him right now and knows she’s wrapped up in her own mind with everything. Before he makes any moves, he takes a moment to recall his research on the topic of PTSD.

He’s never experienced anything like it himself but as soon as y/n opened up to him about her past, he wanted to be sure he was educated in the topic so he could understand what she goes through and be able to do what he needs to do to comfort her in these situations. 

He begins to walk to her slowly, and speaks to her in a soft voice. “Y/n, it’s okay baby. Everything is okay.”

Through her daze, she sees Vinnie moving toward her and it makes her flinch a little. He stops again to give her a moment before walking again.

“It’s okay,” he assured her once more. “It’s just me, baby. It’s Vinnie.”

As he gets closer, she’s pulled from from her thoughts and is finally able to acknowledge to herself that it’s him.

She throws herself into his arms, burying her face into his chest as she starts to sob. It’s been a long time since she’s had an experience like that and she thought she would handle such a situation better, but right now she feels as raw to her emotions as ever.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here,” he says again, wrapping his arms around her.

She knows she’s okay but she cannot shake this feeling no matter how hard she tries.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. Everything is okay,” he says again, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “I’ve got you, no one is going to hurt you.”

She clings to him tighter, wetting his shirt with her tears. “I - I,” she tries to speak between sobs but can’t get the words out.

“Shh. I know, my love. You don’t have to explain anything,” he kisses the top of her head.

She stays like this for another minute, gripping the back of his shirt and working through all her emotions, searching desperately for the comfort she usually finds in him. She knows it’s there somewhere.

“You’re safe. You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. I know it’s scary, but you’re okay. No one is going to hurt you,” he gently sways back and forth with her in a rocking motion.

The longer she stays there, her emotions become more complicated. Her fear becomes mixed with a sense of guilt, knowing how much he worries about her already and now he’s going to be even more concerned about her.

The last time she got triggered like this, he refused to leave her side for a week - cancelling all his plans and neglecting his own needs to make sure she was taken care of first. And even though she needs him after these episodes, she hates to put such a burden on him.

He holds her a little tighter, wishing more than anything that he could take away all her bad feelings. And he feels some frustration - not at her, but at the fact that he can’t do something the make all her trauma go away. He’d do anything to take it away, to make her happy. To make her whole again. But he can’t just snap his fingers and make it go away, so instead he’s vowed to always do his best to comfort her and care for her whenever she needs it.

“It’s okay. Let’s leave, let’s go home,” he whispers.

She sniffles and whines a few more times before calming down a little. Now she’s finally able to make out the words of the argument going on upstairs and it doesn’t sound good. She can’t leave her friend like this.

“But what about Cara?” She says, pulling back from him and wiping her tears. “I can’t leave her here.”

He looks down at her, brushing her hair behind her ears. His heart breaks seeing her like this. And it aches in a different way seeing that even through her own hurt, she’s still caring for her friend. If it was up to him, he’d take her home and let the argument upstairs simmer on its own but he knows she won’t stand for it.

He doesn’t know what to do, but he knows he wants her out of here. “Just…” he thinks for a moment. “Will you be okay to wait in the car for a few minutes? I’ll go upstairs and see what I can do about them but I want you out of here and away from this,” he says.

She’s hesitant for a moment but her stomach still hurts and her heart is still pounding and getting out of here sounds like a good idea. She quickly nods her head in agreement and lets out a small sigh of relief that he’s willing to take over from here.

“Okay,” she says quietly.

“Come on,” he takes her hand and leads her out of the house toward the car. He opens the door for her and lets her get in, and leans over her to put the keys in the ignition so she can listen to music and do whatever else she needs to do to calm herself until he gets back.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” he says softly, kissing her head.

[nctsworld]

meet me at the borderline

☆ jaehyun x reader | dance au | enemies to lovers | smut | 4k   

→ summary: although you and jaehyun are rival dance team captains, you two end up talking with your bodies in the dance studio one evening. → warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), table sex, mirror sex, some praise kink, swearing, some angst → rating: explicit → notes: part of a longer fic that i yearn to write one day, but until then… this is what y’all will receive 

→ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

It’s 8pm on a Friday night at the university’s main dance studio. Everyone on campus is either attending frat parties, at the clubs downtown, or at home, so you’re taken aback when you walk in and are greeted by the one and only Jung Jaehyun. 

He immediately stops dancing and hurries over to his phone on the floor to turn off the music playing. The panting dancer holds your gaze through the wall-sized mirror and takes off his cap for a moment to wipe his sweat away before putting it back on. 

“I was here first,” he states firmly with a squint of his eyes, anticipating for you to leave, but Jaehyun knows to expect less of you. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you stride into the room, hearing the door click behind you, and cross your arms with a shrug. 

“Did you book the studio for tonight?” 

He tenses, “No, I didn’t, but—” 

“If you don’t have another excuse for me to go, don’t be such a baby and I’ll make sure to stay out of your way.” 

The dance captain eyes you sauntering towards the back corner of the room, setting your backpack down. As you sit on the floor and begin to change shoes, he appears in front of you.

“Look, I’m trying to practice the set for the competition. I hate to be a dick—”

“No, you don’t; you love being a dick.” With a bitter, wide smile, you look up at him, still putting on your sneakers.

Jaehyun glances up for a second, as if in deep thoughts, with pressed lips. He then raises an eyebrow and nods his head side to side. 

“Perhaps, but anyway, I didn’t bring my headphones today and we shouldn’t even be seeing each other’s choreo before the show—” 

“Well, good news,” you stand up and begin to tie up your hair. “Unlike you, I brought headphones, so you can practice in peace. Oh, and I hate the sight of you and your flat ass, so I won’t even look at you dancing. We good?” 

You fold your arms once more. From one captain to another, you hold his stare, not wanting to back down from this mere fight. All you want is to get in some practice before the weekend with a proper mirror, is that too much to ask for? 

It takes some time, but the opposition yields to you, tilting his head to the floor and grumbles under his breath. As he walks back to his side of the room, you’re surprised he backed down so easily without a snarky response. Maybe Friday nights were his off days too.   

“At least I have an ass,” Jaehyun’s holler echoes against the walls. 

Ah, you spoke too soon. Placing your headphones over your ears to drown out your surroundings, you start your usual warm-up. Shortly, both of you dive into your separate worlds of melodies and movement. 

About half an hour later, you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor for a water break and set your headphones aside. You take a sip from your bottle and go against your word from before, indulging in a glance at the other dancer in the room.

Even though Jaehyun is an ass (and lacks one),—and you’d never tell the following to his face—he’s still a pretty sight to see, especially when his shirt occasionally rides up to flash his abs. 

When he catches on that you’re taking a longer break than usual, he pauses his music.  

“Were you practicing your set too or were you freestyling?”

Caught off-guard by his conversational piece, you squint at him coming closer to you. You could answer honestly, but opt to hold your ground against his seemingly innocent question. 

“Why do you care?”

He scoffs, “Cause your footwork’s a mess, like always, and if you, as a captain, dance like that for your piece, I can’t imagine what your whole team looks like.” 

Your nose twitches prior to the clenching of your jaw. You’re fully aware of your weak points when dancing, as most dancers are, but to have the audacity to bring it up unprovoked? You slam your water bottle against the floor, the echo reaching all ends of the room, then stand to match his stance. 

“Well, you’re one to talk.” You stomp your way over, closing the empty space in between, and are now only a few steps away from him. “You’re tense with all your upper body movements. You’re like a hard stick from the hip up. It’s like you have no control over your core—”

“Whoa, hold on,” he holds a palm up and rushes to lift his shirt up. “Look at my abs and tell me I don’t have a good core.”

You’re definitely looking, a little longer than you should because you’re finally getting a close-up glimpse of his abs, and they’re the type that you could wash clothes off of. But it’s not like you haven’t seen abs in your life nor do you want to stroke his ego, so you maintain your demeanor and roll your eyes. 

“I didn’t say that. I said you have no control over your core.”

Jaehyun lets out a huff. You can’t detect it, but it’s laced with a tinge of disappointment over how unfazed you are. He frees his shirt and jogs over to his phone. A few scrolls later, he finally blasts music that you’re fairly certain isn’t part of his dance team’s set for the competition (you may have also gone against your other word and listened to what he was practicing to, but only for a little bit). 

“Fine, I’ll show you.” 

At this point, you’re amused because never in a million years you’d expect Jaehyun freestyling in a room alone with you. He starts off by feeling the sharp beats and flowing rhythm of the music and when he has a handle on it, he makes a deliberate effort to add body rolls, chest pops, and more in his freestyling to lay out his case. 

While taking mental notes, out of habit, you’re grooving along with him too with modest rolls, head nodding, and taps of your feet. He can tell you’re holding back, but Jaehyun smiles, basking in how you seem to be enjoying this from the smile reflected on your face as well. 

When he stops, he cocks an eyebrow at you, awaiting for your new verdict.

“Maybe you’re not as bad as you were before.”   

He grins, hard enough that his dimples show, and you dig a hole to hide away the underlying flutters of your heart. 

Still an asshole, but a cute asshole.  

“Now, show me what you got, Captain,” Jaehyun crosses his arms with a nod.  

You’re shaking your head, not wanting to be judged by Jaehyun any further.  

“Unless... you’re scared that I’m right about how shitty your footwork is?”  

If there’s anything stronger than the fear of judgement, it’s the power of spite. 

The song’s already onto the next, but the melody flows easily through you. Similar to Jaehyun, you place emphasis on your footwork, being conscious of switching your weight between the balls and heels of your feet and slowing your moves in order to be more sharp, more clean, but all the while purposefully hitting the beats and giving meaning to the moves. 

Your body’s out of control, owning all the floor space around you. When your body leads you to end up in front of Jaehyun, you snag the hat off his head and put it on. While you stick your tongue out in response, he’s laughing, thinking how you look better with it on than him, and he realizes how he’s never seen you in this element. 

“My footwork still shitty?” you ask, still dancing. 

“There’s room for improvement,” Jaehyun breaks his fixed stance, now beginning to dance along with you. “But you’re not that bad either.” 

Soon enough, you two are entangled in an unspoken dance battle, trying to one up the other with harder, stronger, better movements than the opponent. The moment Jaehyun drops his breakdancing skills, you bite back with your own strengths—fierce, sensual motions and dare to invade his personal space, in hopes he becomes flustered. 

And he does, because he freezes at the sight of your bent ass, which is practically against his hips, and how your fingertips ghost the floor, then you shoot straight up and roll into his body. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, glancing up at him with shallow breaths, restless from the ongoing battle. 

“Care to beat that?” you whisper, suddenly aware of your hands tugging the fabric of his track pants over his thighs. Your chest heaves, and Jaehyun’s drawn to the view in his proximity. 

Despite his crude ogles, he’s super conscious of ensuring that his hands are not touching you, fearing he’s reading the situation wrong, that perhaps this was only due to the adrenaline and anger you’ve both pented up over time. It’s not as if you’d ever want him, even if he was the last man on Earth.

Although you can’t read his mind, Jaehyun’s absolutely right. 

So why do you inch closer to his face?

Time slows as he begins to meet you halfway. Both of you are breathing in sync, hearts beating almost as one. You turn to grasp the crook of his neck, while he steadies you by your waist.  

However, when your lips crash into his, time speeds up and it feels like it’s slipping away. All your movements are rushed as if it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. The kissing—open-mouthed, hungry, and needy—doesn’t falter anytime soon. 

When you drop your touch from his neck, he runs his hands through your hair before caressing your cheek, deepening the kiss with more pressure. You’re sighing, humming into each kiss, and as Jaehyun pulls away to kiss your neck, you’re melting, knees feeling weak amidst your soft moans and eye rolls. 

Not wanting to actually melt in front of him, you tug at his shirt in between kisses, prompting him to follow you towards a small table on one side of the room. Once you’re there, you sit atop the table and continue kissing Jaehyun, who��s standing in between your spread legs. The handsome figure reverts back to kissing your neck, but this time feels adventurous, letting his hand snake under your t-shirt and grasp the side of your stomach. He embraces the smoothness of your bare skin, adores how you feel with every contact.   

There’s not much thinking happening, just lust coursing through each of your bodies. The lust distorts you so much, you don’t hesitate to take off your shirt and toss it to the floor. Jaehyun takes in your beauty for a brief second, before he follows suit and takes his shirt off too. His mouth captures yours again, while his hand kneads your ass and tugs you closer to his hips. 

Throughout his kisses that span all over your body, your hands roam and grip the entirety of his toned upper body. Almost instantly, you feel what you can only assume is his growing hard-on pressed against your core, causing you to moan.

“Can I finger you?” Jaehyun asks the filthy question with a certain air of courtesy, leaning his perspired forehead against yours. You nod fervently and squeak a simple, “Yes.” 

As you stand to get rid of your shoes and to wiggle your panties and leggings off, you notice Jaehyun laying the t-shirt he was wearing on the spot where you sat. He answers the confusion plastered on your face. 

“These tables are used for everything in this building; you never know what could be on them.” 

Today truly marks a day where you’ve never seen this many sides of Jaehyun before, but you don’t let yourself dissect the moment for too long. Since you still have your sports bra on, you opt to strip it off too, and jump back onto the table.  

Because you’re completely naked in front of him, Jaehyun takes more of his sweet time to bask in the sight in front of him, unsure if he’ll ever see you like this again. 

“Are you gonna keep staring,” you cusp his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Or are you going to finger me?” 

“I’ll do what I want when I want to,” he seethes along with your name. Without warning, his fingers hover under your exposed warmth, making you gasp. 

Jaehyun chuckles deeply, “You’re dripping wet for me and I haven’t even put my fingers in yet.”

His fingers continue to painfully tease you, rubbing long, horizontal lines back and forth across your folds.

You bite your lip, fuming, “Jaehyun, stop teasing and put them in already,” 

“Tell me I’m a good dancer.”

You sigh a half-chuckle and roll your eyes prior to muttering, “Fuck you.” 

The tease dips his fingers just slightly into your sex, then pulls out right away. And again, and again. You’re getting more frustrated by the second, pouting with piercing eyes. Jaehyun always liked it when he had an upper hand on you during arguments, but he likes it even more like this.

“Tell me I’m a good dancer, and I’ll put them in.” 

“Fine,” you scowl. “You’re a good dancer, but you know that alre—fuck.” 

He plunges two digits deep into you, and your walls clench in gratification. 

“You’re right. I know I am, I just wanted to hear you say it.” 

You want to kiss the smirk off his face, but instead, you’re leaning your head back and gripping the edge of the table, reveling in the sensation of his fingers filling you. The music from his phone may be still playing, but all Jaehyun can focus on are your heaven sent moans and the way your body writhes, all due to him. 

With his free hand, he trails his nails lightly down the spine of your back, making your sex pulse around his fingers even more. He palms the middle of your back as he begins to plant kisses on your clavicle, down your chest, then on one of your nipples. The label of a tease sticks with him. He dabs his tongue lightly here and there, barely traces a circle around your tip. 

When he decides you’ve had enough, he puckers his lips tight and his cheeks become sunken. And when he’s not sucking, his tongue flicks as hard as the suctions, like strobing lights. You react in a frenzy, hands reaching towards his hair, to stuff and tug them between your fingers.  

“Oh, God, Jaehyun...”

When Jaehyun takes your other breast into his mouth, your moans tether further as he also increases his fingering pace, causing you to grip onto his hair harder. You fear that it might be too rough, but then again, he deserves a little pain for all the fights you’ve had.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, still with your nub surrounded by his teeth. He maintains his rhythm, enthralled with the obscene sounds of your pussy taking his fingers. 

Feeling a little conscious, reasoning that his hand must be drenched with your juices, you stutter, “S-sorry.” 

“No,” he pulls away from your mound, shakes his head, and pulls his hand from your back to caress your neck tenderly. “It’s fucking hot.” 

Jaehyun kisses you with intensity, the speed of his wrist never relenting. You can’t even properly kiss him back because the pleasure is overwhelming, so much that if moans were a shade of paint, yours would be splattered all over the studio’s walls. You reach your peak with cries of his name, your honey glistening over his fingers. 

After he pulls them out and you’re coming down from your high, he runs over to his backpack and rummages through it. Your eyes flicker, noticing the little silver package in hand. Jaehyun wastes no time in coming back to your side. He places the condom next to you on the table and strips off his clothes in record time. 

Before he has a chance to open the condom, you jump off the table to grasp onto his wrist, gesturing for him to lean his backside against the table. He’s in awe as you drop to your knees in front of him.  

You stroke his hardened length, admiring his size, but waste no time in tasting him to avoid Jaehyun’s potential banter about how big he is. However, he’s not even in the right mindset to do so; he’s in a trance, stuck on everything you’re doing. 

Subconsciously or not, everything’s a competition with you two, so you showcase what you’re capable of doing with your tongue. Like him, you begin to be a painful tease, only giving small kitten licks on his cock. Then the next laps of your tongue are broad, but gradual.  

Wanting to see everything you’re doing, he holds your messy hair in a makeshift ponytail since the hair tie you had on must have flown off during the former scenes. Jaehyun grunts sharply as you ease him into your mouth, the warmth welcoming and encircling him wholly. After you bob and swirl your tongue concurrently, giving him a sneak peek of what you’re able to do, you stroke him lackadaisically and meet his eyes.  

“Now, you tell me I’m a good dancer,” you command.  

A brief chuckle escapes from above, “I don’t think you’re in the same position to ask me of that.” 

You challenge his words by taking his possession within your mouth once more. Holding him by the base to cover the area your mouth can’t, you jerk your head fast. With each bob and each swipe, more and more of your saliva covers Jaehyun’s desire. The slurps are so loud, so lewd. His face trembles and his grip tightens on your hair, the pleasure rising within him sooner than expected. 

“Okay, okay. You’re a great dancer—fuck, fuck. Slow down. I don’t want to come just yet.”  

You pull away, an extended line of your spit mixed with his precome draws out from your lips. Perking an eyebrow with a smolder, you light up your wrist rapidly. “Do you mean it?” 

He’s breaking apart from your actions, baring his teeth and grimacing. “Yes, yes. I fucking mean it.” 

With a smirk, you immediately drop him from your hand. He drags you upward into a mad kiss, in retaliation for the edging. Breaking apart from one another, you hurry to your original spot on the table. Jaehyun eases the rubber onto his cock and tugs you by your hips, having your ass laid on the very end of the table. 

He raises your legs up, to be partially extended in the air and engulfed around his body. You have one elbow perched on the table and one hand on Jaehyun’s shoulder. Jaehyun stabilizes you by having a grip on the fold behind your knee and hustles to line his possession up with your sex. The moment it is, his hand meets your waist and he inserts himself fully into you. 

Your back arches from his girth hitting you. Both of your moans expel, mingling with each other. He thrusts experimentally, testing the waters to see how you like it. Determined, deep thrusts. Shallow, swift thrusts. A mix of both. 

It didn’t matter, because you cry in ecstasy either way.   

Being aware of the music still playing from his phone, he wonders if he can plunge into you to match the beat. The current song was electronic and bass-heavy, making it difficult for him to truly match it, but your broken whimpers and name-calling don’t object to the fast thrill. 

God, he can feel the way your pussy contracts against his inches. 

“You know,” he pants heavily. “If I didn’t have good core control, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” 

It takes a bit of effort to come up with a response. All you muster up is, “N-not necessarily,” before you lapse into your elation. 

As you emit your endless moans, you spot your reflection in the wall-sized mirror. The sides of your bodies are parallel to it, and your eyes can’t tear away from the spectacle of you getting fucked by Jaehyun from another angle. It’s unbelievable how fit he is, but you see every flexed muscle and tendon in the mirror—from his neck to his ankles. 

“Do you like watching me fuck you?” 

His gaze confronts yours in the mirror, and you whimper with barely a bounce of your head.  

Jaehyun’s thinking about how beautiful you are, but he holds his tongue back. Rather, he grasps the nape of your neck, pulling you in for another kiss, except the kisses are hardly materialized because your lips are constantly parted. Your hot breath fans against his face and he’s attentive to how close you are to him. Not just physically, but beyond that too. He can’t explain it, but it’s as if you’re under his skin. 

He knows this will inevitably end, it has to, but he also knows he’ll want you again.  

Jaehyun’s officially hooked—to your taste, to your scent, to your air, to your everything.  

And he’s not the only one who feels that way too.  

You inform Jaehyun that you’re nearing again, and he readies himself for his own little death too. Once you disintegrate, he kisses you for the last time, followed by spurts of his seed, releasing himself into the condom.  

The two of you are heaving, sticky messes. Regardless, both of you hold onto each other for a little bit longer. Eventually, you must withdraw and you do.   

The tension in the room seems to shift as you both begin to catch your breath, like everything that just happened was a dream. You don’t regret it, neither of you do, but reality blankets over. You’re the first to reach for your clothes and begin to put them back on. Jaehyun peels off the condom and follows your footsteps. 

“This stays between us,” you express from afar, averting his eyes.  

“And it’s only a one-time thing,” Jaehyun adds, but is immediately unsure if he should’ve said that.

“Exactly, it’s like you read my mind.” 

Your chest clenches for a beat as the words come out of your mouth. You shake your head, trying not to think about it.  

“Are you going to stay in the studio a bit longer?” 

Reading his question as a simple inquiry, you don’t pick up the hopefulness in his tone nor do you see the look in his eyes.  

“No, no. You can finally get the studio to yourself. I’ve had enough practice for the night.”

Already dressed, you hurry to grab all your gear and stuff it into your backpack, prepared to leave. You’re practically out the door in an instant as you mumble your good-bye.

“I’ll see you around, Jaehyun.” 

While you’re walking home, Jaehyun’s still sitting on the floor of the dance studio with his hat in his hand, remembering the way you looked with it on.

At the same moment, you’re both trying your best to stop thinking about the other. 

Keeping this a secret between the two of you, you could do. If your team knew what went down, the best case scenario would be that you lose captaincy. The worst case was that you wouldn’t be a part of your team anymore. However, in either case, your best friends, who were also on the team, would likely question your loyalty and dedication, wondering why you’d ever do such a thing in the first place. The same applied to Jaehyun. 

Seeing Jaehyun again was inevitable. Your teams often collided during practice hours and sometimes fought for the studio. Although it’d be awkward, it’d be manageable. At least, you hope it would be. 

But the only thing neither of you could truly promise, nor did you two desire, was keeping this as a one-time thing, especially now, when you’ve had a taste of each other and yearned for more. 

One more month until the competition. 

What more could possibly happen between you and Jaehyun until then? 

[weirdochick56]

The Bodyguard 2- Bucky Barnes AU

Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, insults, snark, and sassy!Buckster sexy times (ok, so maybe only slightly sexy)

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots or Characters mentioned

Word Count: 5, 173 words

Summary: The Reader and Bucky’s hate for eachother is at an all time high; she can’t seem to rid herself of him and he, well he can’t seem to get her to cooperate with him. But as their frustrations grow, a late-night outing might just be what they both need to see other parts of eachother. 

A/n: This has been a long time in the making, but I finally felt inspired enough to continue the story. Hope you enjoy it!

~The Bodyguard 1~

***

“You can stop following me now,” you grumble with thorny irritation, rolling your eyes at the tall persistent shadow staying hot on your tail. 

It was in vain to ask him to leave, you knew. Agent Brainless was ridiculously adamant about following you around the moment you stepped foot outside of the palace and he was -infuriatingly so- a stubborn man.

How he knew that you were leaving even when you had concocted what you considered a genius plan to evade those infuriatingly pretty grey irises was beyond you.

He sighs at your words, and you can see the annoyance bubbling to the surface of his cold professional exterior, though he tries his hardest to keep a straight face. 

“Your highness, I think we both know I won’t do that,” he responds simply. “Now if you would please stop being so stubborn and simply do as I ask and come with me to the car so that this is easier for us both...” 

You can tell his patience is wearing thin because, in the past few weeks of having him follow you everywhere you went, you had made it a point to figure out his exact breaking point. 

And as you continue making your escape to town like he isn’t even there, you know that so is yours. If there’s anything that can give you that deep burning satisfaction you sought with everything you did, it was pissing Agent Barnes off.

He had patiently asked you to retreat back the way you came so he could “safely” transport you in a castle-owned car, but you refused redundantly because your friend was already waiting for you, but maybe also because you loved the little twitch of his eye every time you refused to listen to his directions.

If you were being completely honest, he really should’ve been asking you to come back to the castle and not go to a club in town at all- as per your father’s orders. But you weren’t fond of said orders and you definitely didn’t want some dark and mysterious shadow following you around during a night of fun with friends. 

“No,” is all you say because in the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him you’ve noticed he’s the most infuriated when your responses are curt and nonchalant. 

You want to see him snap oh so bad...seeing those steely grays lose their cool? Gold. 

“Princess...” he growls in warning, daring you to cut that little thread of control he had left in him with your sharp tongue. 

You don’t look back at him even once enjoying the thrill that travels up your spine at his low-timbre words and the way his voice travels straight to your core, tugging at your short black dress lightly. 

You wanted to see what he would do should he be pushed over the edge. It was fun.

“I already told you, I’m not listening to you. My friend is already waiting for me. And I’m sorry if you have an issue with- Ahh!” Your words choke back into your throat and morph into a shocked yelp when big rough hands grip your hips, spinning you around and without much of a warning, lifting you with incredible ease.

Before you know it, you’re being carelessly thrown over a broad, strong shoulder.

You let out a small ‘oomph’ when the wind gets knocked out of you and all you see is a firm ass, the blood rushing to your head. 

“What the hell do your think you’re doing you absolute buffoon?!” You screech hysterically, wriggling aggressively against his hold on your thighs. 

He barely flinches, only wrapping his muscular arm tighter around your legs and adjusting you on his shoulder like it was a mere midnight stroll for him and you weighed no more than what a feather did. 

“I’m taking you to the car,” he informs as if it’s obvious, voice full with obnoxious satisfaction. 

“Get your filthy hands off me this instant you utter and complete idiot!” You growl, twisting harshly but he doesn’t let go so you start pounding on his firm back with your fists, fighting to free yourself of him. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He just laughs at what seems to be your weak attempts to break away. He laughs.

You gasp at the absolute and complete audacity he has of laughing when he’s treating you, the single heir to the Androvian throne, like a sack of potatoes. 

“You ass!” You wriggle around some more, tugging at his hands to try to pry them off your legs but all he does is smack them away as if they were mere pesky flies. 

“I may be,” he chokes back a small snort but only barely. “But at least I’m the only ass trying to keep your reckless self in check, princess.”

Indignation, humiliation, and utter vexation all burn deep inside you like a thrumming fire ready to ravage everything in its way when it got the chance to escape your body as you slowly fall limp against him. 

Resignation comes hand in hand with the deep desire for revenge and you fist your hands in deep ache to somehow exercise it. 

He carries you all the way to the garage of cars in the back part of the castle, walks over to a black SUV out of all the expensive cars to choose from, opens it and all but throws you into the back leather seats like you’re not a fucking human, much less the princess of the land he’s currently stepping in. 

You land flat on your back in the smooth leather interior of the luxury SUV with a small thud and instantly sit up to glare at him heatedly. “Do you have any idea who I am? Be gentle, you brute!” 

Annoyingly enough, he simply ignores you and leans over your body. His heat floods through your bare skin and feels good for a second and you subtly inhale his musky scent as he tugs on the seatbelt, roughly pulling it over you. 

You forget about your hatred for him for a split second and that only makes you angrier when it comes back full force. 

You fucking idiot, Y/n. 

In a last and desperate attempt of defiance, you try to push his hands away to which he responds by firmly pressing you back by your shoulder into your seat and staring you dead in the eye with blazing grey eyes. 

The fire that swirls in them is...something. Not necessarily scary, but intimidating and...something else.

Something that makes your skin flush and your nerves throb to life. 

You stare right back, tilting your chin up to show him you weren’t backing down or scared of him and his brute force. He got too under your skin and you knew you got under his which only offered you only a limited amount of comfort. 

He clenches his jaw as he clicks the seatbelt into place, never looking away from your challenging gaze. As if to stick another dagger into your burning insides. As if to reassert his power here. 

Your labored breaths are all that can be heard for miles to come in the calm night air and he leans close for a second, your heaving chests gently brushing.

Not meaning for it to happen, you feel your nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of your black party dress and you wonder if you imagine his hands clenching around your shoulder -his fingers digging into your flesh with suppression- or the sly flick of his eyes from your eyes to your lips. 

You wonder if you imagine the look of heat that passes over his eyes when your breaths mix the second time seems to stop and an overwhelming emotion washes over you. 

But then it’s gone as soon as it came and hatred burns deep in your belly once more. So deep that it hurts and brings painful tears to your eyes, your nose burning so hard you can’t focus through your blurry vision.

You lean in closer, so close your nose is brushing just barely against his and pause for a second. A second of torture for him, a second of uncertainty, a second where his breath catches and his pupils dilate. 

Then you speak, voice trembling with overwhelming anger. 

“I have never,” you whisper, licking your lips. “Been treated with such disrespect.” You swallow hard, cheeks red with humiliation. 

You see a flash of guilt in his eyes but it’s quickly replaced by his usual look of cool professionalism- not even anger anymore. Not even that.

And he leans right back into you, a wave of heat passing over both of you. “Then learn to listen next time. It’s for your safety.” 

And just like that he’s drawing back, slamming the passenger door closed and climbing into the driver’s seat- leaving you cold and angry beyond reason.

A moment of tense silence passes before he releases a tiny sigh and breaks it by turning on the ignition. 

“Where are we going?”

*

BUCKY’S POV

I watch her laugh at something one of her friends says from a dark corner of the club and it’s hard not to stare for reasons other than my duty being just that...to look after her. 

The club was a luxurious one, with high ceilings, intricate designs and a VIP section where we were immediately escorted to.

Her Highness’s friends, a blonde guy and girl who had nodded at me in polite acknowledgment were already waiting for her there and I assumed that the few seconds when she had stopped her sulking and taken out her phone from her clutch were the seconds she was texting her friends to meet her there instead. 

I would never admit it, but I enjoyed watching her cave. It was like taming a wild horse, even if momentarily. 

Princess Y/n was a brat, plain and simple. Selfish, childish, and feisty as hell, I had never met anyone as completely and utterly vexing as her and to say these past few weeks had been hell would be an understatement. 

If I wasn’t so good at my job, I would’ve lost her already. She threw me for a loop any chance she got, cutting corners and doing everything she could to avoid my protection. 

As I stared at her with that pretty ass smile on her annoyingly beautiful face, it’s hard to imagine that that was the same person pushing every single one of my buttons just a few minutes before. 

She actually looked relaxed and...nice?

God, she infuriated me in ways I had no idea I could be infuriated, discovered buttons I didn’t know I had and pushed them to the point I had to throw her over my damn shoulder like a sack of flour.

I was a professional, for God’s sake. Had always been one with every single one of the cases I was assigned, so why was she the one to get under my skin?

...And why did I enjoy having her perfectly round ass so close to my face? Why did I keep thinking about the defiance in those stupidly big eyes over and over like I....craved it?

I wondered to myself as I watched her take down a shot by the bar. She glanced at me over her shoulder, still smiling, but it quickly melted away when our gazes clashed and my own mood soured instantly. 

I grimaced when she looked away as if I had burnt her with my eyes and quickly pulled my head out of the gutter. 

The fact that she was utterly gorgeous didn’t change how annoying she was. Not to mention I was here on a job. 

One I fully intended to complete, no matter how fucking difficult the client was.

*

The night moves on at a slow pace for me. The princess parties and I watch her like a hawk, making sure not to let her get too wild. 

So far I had pried off five guys who were trying their luck with her. From what I’d read on her file and the extensive research I’d done online, her face wasn’t really well known. 

She was always kept  secret and would be until she was crowned queen of Androvia- some weird old belief or something- so not many people knew what she looked like. 

Meaning, these guys probably didn’t know who they were trying to get all handsy with on the dance floor and would only assume was some rich daddy’s girl once my towering form appeared and nicely escorted them away. 

For the most part nicely, anyway. Some I had to get a little rougher with. 

I make sure to keep my eyes glued on her form, ignoring the way she moved her hips in that tiny black dress. It hugged her alluring curves like a glove and I swallowed hard as she grinded on her female friend, head thrown back and a free smile on her face. 

“She is...beautiful, isn’t she?” 

I calmly turn towards the voice as it hums out from beside me, turning to see the guy she came with. He takes a sip of his drink, smirking as his eyes remain on the way the princess waves her hands in the air to the beat of the song, sensually shaking her hips as if she was one with the sexy R&B song I had no idea the name of. 

I clear my throat, remaining stock still in my bodyguard pose. “Sir, I”m only here to protect her Highness. I really don’t-”

“Oh don’t even try to hide it. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in this whole club.”

He takes my silence as confirmation, it seems, because he proceeds to speak on as if I’ve agreed.

“But it’s not just her physical appearance is it? It’s something else. Something...inside,” he whispers. 

When I don’t respond, he continues bitterly. “I’m warning you; don’t fall for her. It’ll only bring you a world of pain, trust me.”

I catch the pain in his voice and stiffen. “I would never fall for one of my subjects, sir,” I assure him.

He laughs sourly. “Sure bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insist, swallowing thickly as she laughs, beautiful smile wide and her laughter too melodious to be coming out of such a wretched little urchin. 

“Well,” he coughs suddenly, clapping me in the shoulder. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I eye his hand which he slowly pries off and shake my head with a slightly clenched jaw.

“I’m on the job, sir,” I remain calm and professional despite the fact that all I wanted to do was break that hand for putting stupid thoughts in my head. 

Because for a second there, as the bright club lights shun down on her, I could see what he talked about when he said there was something inside. In that smile, those eyes, that laugh...

But then she made eye contact with me and the feeling turned bitter so quick it’s a miracle I didn’t get whiplash. 

She was a brat. Nothing more.

*

YOUR POV

Sometime late into the night, you had found myself fairly buzzed. Not enough to fall on your face, but enough that walking- well, stumbling over to Agent Asshole only seemed more and more attractive an action.

He glances at you with those eyes and you can’t help the anger the bubbles within you. “Do you plan on staring me down the entire night?”

“It’s my job,” is all he says. 

You scowl fiercely at him. “I hate you,” you seethe.

He raises a dark brow but otherwise keeps that stoic expression on his face. “Do you want to leave, your Highness?”

His neutral tone and complete lack of reaction only angers you more and you shake your head furiously. “No, I don’t want to leave. I want you to leave though.”

He presses his lips firmly together. “I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re not.”

“Huh?” He cocks his side slightly to the side and you lean closer to him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“I said; you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You feel your drunken emotions deep in your chest and without much effort, your voice quickly escalates.

He sighs heavily. “Okay, your highness, I think it’s time I take you back to the castle. C’mon,” he waves a hand toward the door.

You laugh at him coldly, shaking your head. “Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Know your place asshole, you are below me- never forget,” you growl snarkily, leaning right into his face.

You feel his breathing quicken against your cheeks the longer you defiantly smirk up at him, his calm eyes darkening.

You realized you enjoyed pushing him to the edge, that you craved this look on his face...

He smirks mockingly down at you, staring you down. “You can come willingly, your highness, or I can throw you over my shoulder like last time.” He leans straight into your ear, whispering hotly. “I’m sure you would rather not go through the embarrassment.”

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering against your chest and you’re not sure it’s from anger anymore. With disgust, you jerk away from him, glaring holes into his head.

“Let’s go.”

*

“You can go, Agent Obnoxious,” you mumble drunkenly, waving a dismissive hand at him as you stumble into your warm room, practically ripping off your heels.

You throw them somewhere in the corner of the large room, sighing with relief when you feel your bare feet touching the soft carpeted floor. 

Your knees shake slightly and buckle and you end up tripping forward.

You land on the ground with a soft grunt and for some reason, laughter bubbles deep in your chest.

“Your Highness!”

A few seconds later, you feel strong warm hands wrapping around your body to heave you up. You place your hands on his strong arms for support and look up at Agent Barnes.

The laughter immediately dies on your lips when you see a beautiful concerned frown of engraved deep in his face. It looks so sincere and his arms are so strong...

Before you know what you’re doing, a small mumble is leaving your lips. “You...” you cut yourself off abruptly when his eyes meet yours.

His hands now rest lightly on your waist, and you’re so close you can smell him. His scent is deep and rich and manly, so unlike the scent of those rich assholes you were forced to mingle with on a daily basis.

And his hands, are strong and resilient. The callouses on them tells you that he’s worked his entire life. Those hands, the ones holding you right now, They’ve probably handled a gun, they’ve probably saved so many lives...

You bite your lip, thinking about the way those hands felt on the skin of your arm and how heavenly it would feel if it traveled all over.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you crane up your neck to stare up at him.

He stares down at you, and even when your room is dark, the light of the moonlight that filters in from the huge window highlights the heavy tension in his gaze.

You’re both unmoving and you wonder if he enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy his touch.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to your lips and eyes and then back.

You want to ask him what he’s thinking. You want to tell him to just do it -to just kiss you because you wouldn’t dare push him away- not in this state, not when the alcohol and his scent and eyes were clogging every single sense and reason you had, but you’re afraid to break the spell of whatever this was. 

So instead, you wait on abated breath, feeling like you’re both on the verge of something utterly earth-shattering, for him to move.

Finally, he speaks a few seconds later and it’s a quiet murmur. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

You ignore the sharp sting of his rejection when you were so clearly begging him to kiss you and step away from his touch as if he’s burnt you.

You turn around so he can’t see the hurt in your eyes. “You can go now Agent Brainless,” you say coldly over your shoulder, but you know it’s a lot softer than the other time.

Another second passes. “Princess..” he whispers.

You ignore his barely audible whisper and angrily begin undressing, tugging at the straps of your dress.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He growls lowly as you begin to pull your dress down to your waist.

With a sarcastic smile, your turn towards him, your top half completely naked aside from your black lacy bra.

His gaze immediately falls on your half-naked chest, but aside from the small flicker in his eyes and gulp he takes, he gives no other indication of shock.

You raise a brow. “Are you going to watch me undress now too, Agent Barnes?” You ask mockingly.

His eyes find yours again and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them. They send shivers through your whole body and you almost give into the urge to look away, but the anger and frustration within you don’t allow your gaze to waver.

“I’m not leaving until you’re safely in bed,” he husks, clearly trying his best to remain professional and cold as his icy stare bores into your eyes- purposefully looking away from your naked form.

You tilt your head up at him innocently, slowly sauntering closer to him. “Oh? Well in that case, do you mind helping me with the zipper of my dress? It’s stuck.”

You turn your back on him and a smirk blossoms in your face as you hear his breathing strain, your ass slightly brushing against his crotch area. 

He blows out a shaky exhale and it blows against your naked back, all hot and angry. 

When he makes no move to help you, you look at him over your shoulder. “Well?” 

His grave expression doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that,” he says lowly. 

But even as he resentfully spits this, he doesn’t budge and his eyes are still tracing over your body, their electric desire leaving goosebumps over wherever they ran over.

You roll your eyes at him. “Then turn around, you idiot.” 

He growls, fisting his hands and clenching his jaw tightly but doesn’t try to fight you on it and turns his broad back to you.

You’re intoxicated, so it’s probably because you’re not thinking straight, but as you quickly slip on a silk night gown and stare at his back, you can’t help the deep heavy sadness that sinks into your chest. 

Why hadn’t he kissed you just now? You could’ve sworn he wanted to and you sure as hell did...it was there, the moment, the split second when you were willing to risk it all, to overlook any and all boundaries, cross all imposing lines- but you lost it. 

Pushing your hair to the side, you convince yourself it was for the best. 

“I’m done,” you say softly, climbing into bed. 

Agent Barnes nods at you stiffly, turning on his heels to leave as you get under the covers. Blaming this on your intoxication, you suddenly find yourself exclaiming. 

“Wait!” 

He pauses right before his foot moves outside the doorframe and turns toward you, eyebrows raised. “You need something, Your Highness?”

You stare at him seriously, pressing your head against your pillow. “Don’t...leave, please,” you whisper softly, curling into a ball at the tenderness of your voice.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit quietly. 

He freezes, staring at you as if he’d never seen you before and you avert your gaze, afraid maybe you let on too much. 

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize, but that only flusters you more. “I-I mean not sorry, you asshole. Just- whatever. I’m in bed now, you can go.” 

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly flip over and turn your back to him.  

Seconds later, you hear the door click close and then nothing. A heavy sigh escapes you and you try to suppress the feeling of disappointment that envelops your whole body. 

You didn’t know if it was the drinks or the cold distant dinners you’d been having with your family...but you had never felt more alone. All the clubbing and trying to escape your destiny by trying to pave a life of your own couldn’t fill in that emptiness you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.  

You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. Not tonight. 

So even if it was your bodyguard who you hated with everything in you, you needed someone just to be there. Even if it was just to sit in silence with.  

Suddenly, you hear a gentle swish noise and gasp lightly, flipping over. Agent Barnes has thrown his jacket over the chair beside your bed and is loosening his tie and he stares at you. His beautiful gaze sucks you in as you blink up at him in surprise. 

He shrugs. “I can’t just....leave you here alone.” 

Your chest clenches painfully and warmth travels all over your body like warm gooey honey. The feeling of having someone there for you when you need them most is almost overwhelmingly strong. 

“Thank you,” you whisper so quietly, you’re shocked he even hears it. 

He tilts his head at you, frowning with that handsome face of his. “For what? It’s my job.” 

There he goes detaching himself. With a gentle shrug, you nod and curl into a ball under your covers, trying to covet sleep. 

You try this for a few minutes and you’re tired, but you can’t help thinking about Agent Barnes sitting in a hard chair all night. After a while of tossing and turning, you sit up. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathe with irritation. 

“What? What happened?” he sits up instantly, and though you could tell he was on the verge of dozing off, his sharp senses are impressive as he reaches for the gun on his ankle frantically. 

You sigh, hating the way your cheeks grow hot and you look away timidly. “Just get into bed,” you say roughly. 

“What?”

You bite your lip, looking at him in the eyes. “I said; get into bed with me. That chair is uncomfortable.” 

He laughs lightly. “Princess, I was trained by the world’s best assassins. I was taught to sleep on a cold concrete ground if need be.” He gives the chair a firm pat. “This chair is a luxury for a guy like me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, wondering more about his past before lightly shaking your head. 

“I don’t care. I still feel bad that I made you sleep here on a chair. Just get in already, will you?” You growl at his stubbornness. “The bed is huge, there’ll be enough space for the both of us, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you add on, softly. 

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he finally relents with a small sigh. “Fine.” 

Hesitantly, he cuffs his sleeves and perches himself on the edge of the bed- all stiff and tight. “Good?” He asks, glancing at you with raised brows.

You frown. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re not actually planning to sleep like that are you?” You snort. 

“I told you-”

“That you were trained by dangerous assassins, yeah yeah. But you’re still a human and a ridiculous one at that,” you scoff before suddenly smirking.  “You’re not afraid of lil old me, are you? I’m tiny- I couldn’t possibly hurt you...too much,” you offer him a faux innocent smile, batting your lashes. 

He stares at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh trust me, I’ve met girls like you before. You definitely don’t bite.” 

You raise a brow amusedly. “Girls like me?”

His sexy smirk widens. “Yeah. You’re all bark but no bite,” he replies vaguely.

Feeling partially indignant and partially curious, you decide to probe him for answers. “Oh yeah?”

He can’t resist your subtle challenge and continue speaking. “You’re always in power, constantly being chased after because you’re beautiful and rich and you act like it’s what you want in a guy, but it isn’t, is it?”

Deeply intrigued by his generally accurate analysis, you can’t help but laugh. “Oh?”

“No.” He stares deeply into your eyes and the smile slips off your lips as he says his next words with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You bark out orders and you take on responsibilities like a boss, but what you really want is a man. Not a pushover boy that’ll listen to your every command and constantly try to please you, fall at your feet...But a man that’ll choke slam you on the bed, that’ll make you his, that’ll torture you with the deepest pits of hellish pleasure until he ruins every other man for you. You want to be controlled, brought over the edge so far you won’t ever be able to go there by yourself and then at the last moment get that taken away from you. You want to be used.” 

You openly gape at him but he ignores you and slightly scoots closer, still at a safe distance, but close enough where you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“Sleep, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At first, you’re too shocked to react. Your heart is positively hammering against your ribcage and your cheeks are uncharacteristically red. You were flushed. How had he managed to...’you know what?’ You think. ‘No.’ 

You breathe in deeply. ‘ I’m not going to think about it anymore.’

Because doing so would mean letting him win. And also, never mind the fact that he’s in your bed right now...

Decidedly, you squeeze your eyes shut, begging sleep to come amidst all your stupid, surely drunken thoughts about your stupid bodyguard and kissing him, or simply straddling him right now...

Despite how much you disliked him, you felt safe and protected, like you could let your guard down. And yet...not enough. 

Soon, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of his body, you curl into a ball and slowly let your heavy lids close, relaxing completely.

“Oh, and Agent Brainless?” you murmur, on the very verge of sleep. 

“Yes, princess?” He looks at you. 

You manage to send him one last cold smirk before answering.  

“Don’t misinterpret this, right now. I’m merely asking you to do your job.” 

And then darkness takes over.

Before fully giving into the softness of the darkness of slumber, though, you think you hear him laugh softly and say something like “wouldn’t dream of it, brat.” 

****

They’re honestly growing on me. Should I continue?

ALSO YALL SEE TFATWS????  SEBASTIAN LOOKS SO DARN GOOD PLEASEEEEEE

A special thanks to:

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

@mo-onstarrs

@loveofmychips @juliesland​

[mxvladdy]

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

[littlemisspascal]

Death and an Angel part 6

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Three things happen at once. 

He pulls his glove off and tosses it aside. You forget how to breathe.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,114

Warnings: Swearing, backstory, angsty angst, fluffy fluff, mutual pining finally acknowledged, overuse of italics, don’t mess with Din’s Cupid or he’ll kill you

Author Note: Important please read this! Ok, so if you’ve been following along you’ll know I had no outline for this originally. And well, that’s come back to bite me. I had to make an edit to Part 2, a small one but still the very beginning will look marginally different if you’ve read it before today’s date Dec. 16, 2020. Basically, I took away the implication that You don’t know exactly how You became a Cupid. So, yeah. Hopefully moving forward I’ll be better handling all this *awkward shuffling*. As always, thank you for all the support and I appreciate every one of you so much ❤

Links to Part 1 and Part 5 and Part 7

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

Silence floods the ship in the wake of your admission, stifling and charged with enough tension you fear breathing too loud will set off a chain reaction with disastrous results. It makes the hair on the back of your neck prickle, every instinct inside of you screaming to teleport away, if only so you no longer have to see Din stubbornly trying and failing to hide his internal turmoil behind a mask of indifference. 

When he opens his mouth, you tense but the question slices through you all the same. “When?”

You hesitate, making a face. “Din, we really don’t have time for this. Let’s just move on—”

Without warning, the hand holding your elbow slides to your wrist and twists, turning your palm up for inspection. Din stares at the blank expanse of skin, then slowly his gaze lifts, and he releases you as if you’ve poisoned him.

“You’ve never lied to me before, angel. Did you honestly think now was the best time to start?” he asks, and something breaks inside of you when he looks at you as if you’ve become a total stranger to him.

But before any pain can begin to sink in, anger overcomes you as his assumption registers.

“I’m not lying, you asshole,” you say sharply, feeling a faint pulse of petty satisfaction when you notice the subtle way his stance shifts defensively, betraying his surprise at your boldness. Resting your hands on your hips, you fix him with your fiercest glare. “For all that you are a powerful ancient being of the universe, you are also the biggest, most ignorant fool I’ve ever met. You have absolutely no idea how Cupids become Cupids, do you?”

You don’t offer him even a second to respond, too wound up and fueled by the overwhelming desire to make him get it. To make him understand you’re not purposefully trying to hurt him. If it were up to you, you’d make sure he never felt any kind of pain. But that would require having a choice and that is the one thing the universe did not grant you as a Cupid.

“Every Cupid was once a mortal with a soulmate,” you explain, choosing each word with careful precision while watching his face to make sure his focus never wavers. “And every one of us was rejected by them. When we die, we’re transformed into Cupids, losing our soulmate markings in the process.” When you feel your bottom lip begin to wobble, you pause to take a steadying breath. “You asked me before, what is the true purpose of a Cupid? It’s to help others find the kind of love we never experienced for ourselves.”

Din stands there in front of you, still staring passively, and you’re scared for a moment your words have made no difference, but then his jaw clenches so tightly you hear his teeth grinding. 

“You were rejected?” he growls, vicious and guttural, the sound of a feral beast.

He pivots, fist colliding with the wall with enough force it dents the metal beneath his knuckles. You flinch at the noise, shocked at the abuse he’s inflicted upon his beloved ship. Every bone in his hand should have shattered upon impact, but because Death is immune to such damage he merely turns back to you, breathing raggedly and eyes blackened with rage.

“Tell me his name.”

You’ve already begun shaking your head before you say, “So you can go hunt him down? Hell no. Trust me, it doesn’t matter.”

Instead of pacifying him, this only infuriates him further. “How can you say that? That bastard broke your heart when he was supposed to cherish you, protect you, love you above all else.”

“You think I don’t know that?” you ask peevishly, letting your temper get the better of you. Sparing a moment to mentally count to ten, you quietly reveal, “I can say it doesn’t matter because I don’t even remember who he was. There is no point sending you to kill someone who’s face I can’t pick out of a crowd.”

The sudden way Din’s whole body slumps in response to the news, like a puppet whose strings have been cut, expression scrunched and dumbfounded, would have made you laugh if the circumstances were entirely different. Being what they are, you can only meet his stare evenly, silently assuring him you’re not joking in the slightest.

“I don’t understand,” Din says at last, looking like he wants to approach but is unsure you’ll welcome his nearness so he keeps his distance. “You never told me you had memory loss before. What happened to you?”

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know. For as long as I’ve been a Cupid, all my memories from my mortal life have dark spots, like something poked holes in them.”

Din glances away as he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘Or someone’ but before you can comment, his tone rises to its usual volume as he says, “Is this why you collect all those old newspapers? To try to help you remember?”

You recall with embarrassment him having previously commented on the pile in your living room. That moment feels like years ago, the two of you sitting in your apartment and Din asking...if Cupids were on the list of potential soulmates. Was that his way of asking if you were on the list? Surely not. He’s much cleverer than that.

...Isn’t he?

“I just,” you shake your head, refocusing on the current conversation. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll find something that fills in the gaps. I don’t like this pit in my stomach, this feeling that I’ve forgotten something important.” You huff a self-deprecating chuckle. “Other than my soulmate, I mean.”

He offers you a smile, small and lopsided, likely meant to be consoling, but you see right through it. You see his pain in the tightness around his mouth, in the way his fingers flex at his sides like it’s taking all his self-control not to reach out to you. Your confession has hurt him. Badly. It’s the kind of hurt no amount of bacta can heal.

The silence returns, different than the one usually experienced during hyperspace in that it wishes to be broken, for someone to say something, anything. You would grant its wish except your thoughts are a jumbled mess inside your head. Deep down, there is a part of you which knows there is nothing you can say that will fix this—this being the chasm forming between you and Din, widening with every passing second spent staring wordlessly at each other. 

Would telling him sooner have prevented this heartbreak? Probably. But looking back, you can’t think of an opportune moment. You had never thought your crush could be requited—not just because you were already matched, but also because it had always seemed so ridiculous, imagining the great and powerful Death feeling anything remotely close to affection for an unimportant, low-ranking Cupid. 

“Angel,” Din begins after a few minutes, his voice anchoring you back in the present. He’s staring over your shoulder, brow furrowed thoughtfully and you can practically hear the gears turning inside his head. “Earlier, you said you didn’t tell your boss I was your client. Why didn’t you?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, before an unexpected wave of boldness comes over you. Digging your finger into the armor on his chest, you remind him, “You came to me first, remember? Not them. So, I figured you didn’t want them knowing.”

“I couldn’t care less who knows,” Din deadpans.

“Oh.” You blink, hand falling back along your side, because what else can you say.

“You want to know what I think?” Oh Maker, he’s stepping closer until there’s only a foot of space between you two. His voice is a low, raspy murmur, sending your heartbeat into overdrive. “I think you didn’t want them knowing because you like being the only angel who does.”

You start to squirm, fight or flight instincts at total war with each other. His theory isn’t too far from the truth, making it all the worse hearing it out loud because it practically oozes possessiveness which is exactly what you’d feared.

“Before you pull away from me again,” Din continues, knowing you and your mind too damn well. “I want you to listen when I say nothing that you’ve told me changes how I feel about you.”

“Din—” you try, only for your voice to crack.

Then three things happen at once.

He pulls his glove off and tosses it aside. You forget how to breathe.

“I’ve been alone my entire existence and I kept telling myself that was how the universe intended it to be. That I couldn’t love anyone because I kill everything I touch.” A smile pulls at his lips when he looks down at his bare hand and a note of awe slips into his voice. “Then you came along, beautiful and clumsy and unafraid to call me out for being an ass. I started looking forward to each full moon because it meant I got to see you and admire every new detail about your life you chose to share with me. And then when this appeared,” he nods towards the soulmate marking, gleaming faintly beneath the overhead lighting, “all I could think of was you.”

You feel your throat becoming thick as you blink back tears, inhaling sharply through your nose. “Why didn’t you say anything at the train station? Why would you let me try to set you up with matches if you liked me that way?”

Din grimaces, abashed. “Because after you said there weren’t any Cupids on your list, I realized you didn’t know I liked you. I convinced myself I had to show you how I felt, instead of tell you. Although,” he holds up a finger, backtracking, “I actually almost did confess, on our way to Sorgan, but you stopped me. And that just further convinced me actions spoke louder than words. I knew none of the people you found me could ever compare with you, so I thought once you saw each unsuccessful connection, you’d realize the only hand I want to hold is yours.”

“Din, it can’t be me.” Your protest is weak, on the verge of caving in, forcing you to try another angle. “I can’t have two soulmates.”

He inhales a breath so sharp and unexpected, it startles your poor heart into skipping a beat.

Din looks at you like you’ve gifted him all the stars in the galaxy, brown eyes blown wide with hope. “Angel, do you mean it? That you consider me—”

“Of course, you idiot.” You attempt a laugh, but it comes out sounding broken and forced. “As Death, as Din, as whoever you want to be, I’ll always consider you. But...what if what happened on Sorgan happens to us? What if the universe doesn’t favor us?”

“I just want to be yours.” Din extends his hand towards you. “And if that means breaking the universe’s rules, then fuck it. We’ll make up our own. Together.”

Time seems to stand still, like you’ve entered a realm separate from the rest of the universe where you’re able to forget you have a complicated past, filled with holes and a soulmate who rejected you. Here it’s just you, Din, and his offer to love you unconditionally. Here you have a choice.

And it’s the easiest one you’ve ever made.

You slowly lift up your hand to hover in front of his, fingers trembling as they uncurl.

“Together,” you whisper.

And then your hands are moving to meet one another, closer and closer until his fingertips brush yours, sending a spark of warmth through your nervous system. Oh, Maker, you had described what you imagined a soulmate connection was like, but you had no idea this is the true experience. It’s like a sunrise dissolving midnight skies, lighting up your surroundings with breathtaking vibrancy. You can’t fathom how you survived all this time being in his presence without feeling his touch.

“Dank farrik,” he mutters hoarsely, sounding just as overwhelmed and awestruck as you feel.

You open your mouth, but instead of words a whimper of agony escapes instead. That lovely warmth spreading from your linked hands has started to boil, white-hot and furious. It’s as if all your internal parts have caught fire and are slowly withering to ash—your organs, your bones, even your kriffing blood. 

Your body crumples and Din cries out your name, but you don’t get to hear him say it, unconscious before your head collides with the floor.

Tag List:  @leilei-draws​, @theocatkov​, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph​, @stardust-and-starlight​, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor​, @remmyswritings​, @gallowsjoker​, @rhiannon-russo​, @randomness501​, @eleine-t1d​, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene​, @softly-sad​, @maytheglitter​, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[candy-and-writing]

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

part iii

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they’ve been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you’re the perfect little doll for their plan.

General Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, princess, ie; oral sex (female and male), fingering, (forced?) poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

Chapter Warnings: non consensual touching and kissing, non consensual drugging, mean! Steeb, soft bois, stucky fluff

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Part Two // Part Four

Masterlist

It took you fifteen minutes to gather the courage to take a shower. Another ten to undress. You hated how exposed you felt, how at any moment Captain Rogers or Sergeant Barnes could walk in and see you naked.

The shampoo smelled heavenly, and as you dried your hair you marveled at how soft it was, how the scent lingered in your hair.

You clutched the towel to your body as you rummaged through the dresser drawers, searching for the least provocative set of underwear. You settled on a pair of lacy briefs that showed more of your ass than you initially thought and a matching bra.

You sorted through the wardrobe five different times, trying to find something to wear. Should you wear a dress? Did they want you to dress up? God, why were you complying with them?

You decided on a white sleeveless dress with a pink floral pattern and a flattering neckline. You paired it with a light pink cardigan, pulling the sleeves down past your wrists.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, you find what you need to style your hair, applying a quick layer of mascara to your lashes. While contemplating whether or not to put on some lip gloss, you grabbed the Chanel perfume bottle, examining it carefully before spritzing a little on your neck. It smelled like jasmine and roses. You liked it.

You shouldn't like it.

You're looking through the extensive makeup collection when you hear the door unlock. You turn your head and watch Bucky close the door behind him, balancing a tray with three plates of food in one hand. He spots you in the bathroom and his jaw drops.

"Wow, doll, you look—you look amazing."

You give him a timid smile and watch as he moves out of sight. You follow him to the threshold of the second room, the one you hadn't yet looked in. A small dining table sat in the middle of the room, with an absolutely gorgeous diamond chandelier hanging above the table. A large bookcase filled with books lined the wall. Skimming the titles, you realized that most of them were books that you had at home—or at the very least the same authors. Some were books you've never heard of before, a few were ones you've always wanted to read. Others were older, classics like the Oz series by L. Frank Baum and the Lord of the Rings series. Books that Steve and Bucky would have read in their childhoods.

"That was Steve's idea," Bucky says, walking up to you after he set the plates down on the table. "Wanted to get you something a little more personal."

You hummed in response, not knowing what else to say. Were you supposed to thank them? For what, for kidnapping you? For buying you expensive luxuries you didn't want?

Bucky hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"You look absolutely stunning in this dress, doll," he murmured, his voice low. You swallowed before finding your voice.

"It's just a dress. . . ."

His eyes were gorgeous. Tantalizing blue-grey like the sky at the first signs of a storm. You found yourself lost in them, at the little specks of a deeper blue, of green. You didn't realize he was closing in on you until his lips touched yours.

He smirked against your lips as you squeaked in surprise, your shoulders tensing as your hands flew to his chest to push him away. You felt like you were pushing against a brick wall; the solid mass of muscle beneath your palms wouldn't budge. When Bucky seemingly got tired of your resistance, he gathered your wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to your chest.

He moaned against your mouth, coaxing your lips apart as he dipped his tongue in. You stayed frozen in your spot, letting his tongue roam within your mouth. His hand trailed down to your breast, squeezing softly as you whimpered. His lips moved to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline, kissing and sucking his way down your neck.

"You're wearing the perfume," Bucky commented, murmuring against your skin. "Do you like it? It reminded us of something women would wear back in our day. Something that fits you."

You shut your eyes, biting back a whimper as he nibbled on your neck. He intertwined his fingers with yours, pinning your hands flat against the wall and he suckled at your pulse point. You let out a weak mewl as he licked over the dark mark he created, his knee pushing against the apex between your thighs.

"Bucky asked you a question, sweetheart," Steve said suddenly, standing in the threshold, holding a bottle of wine by the neck and three glasses by their stems. Your eyes go wide at the sight of him and you try to push Bucky away, but he doesn't budge.

"When one of us asks you a question, you answer it." Stave's voice was surprisingly stern, sending a shudder down your spine.

It took you a moment to gather your voice. "Yes. . . it smells very nice." If either of them heard how shaky your voice was, they didn't acknowledge it. Steve hummed, setting the wine down on the table.

"Buck, dinner's ready."

"Mmm, I got dinner right here," he mumbled. Bucky grabbed your hips and pulled you down on his knee, grinding your core against him. You yelped, pushing against his chest in desperation.

"Bucky."

Bucky grumbled in response, fingers digging into the divot of your hips as he licked a stripe up your neck before finally relenting.

Your knees were shaking so much you could barely keep yourself upright, your hands plastered against the wall for support. Mascara streamed down your cheeks as Bucky held his hand out to you.

"C'mon, doll, let's eat."

Steve pulled out a chair for you, Bucky guiding you to sit down. Steve wiped your stained cheeks with a napkin, shushing you as you whimpered.

"Buck and I made your favorite, sweetheart," Steve beamed. "Fettuccine Alfredo with broccoli. We even got a bottle of Cabernet to share."

You nodded, mumbled a small 'thank you', and let Steve set your plate in front of you.

"Eat up, sweetie."

You were allowed one glass of wine during dinner, which was barely filled a third of the way up. You wanted to drink from the entire goddamn bottle—it seemed appropriate, considering the circumstances.

The fettuccine was good, admittedly, which made you sick to your stomach. You weren't very hungry, you had hardly taken four bites of your pasta, and Steve and Bucky had noticed.

"What's the matter, doll?" Bucky asked. "Do you not like it?"

"No!" you rushed. "No, it—dinner's wonderful. . . I'm just not very hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day, sweetheart," Steve chided. "And you didn't have very much to eat  yesterday, are you feeling okay?"

You scoffed at that. "Other than the fact that a couple of psychotic superheroes have kidnapped me?" you muttered. "Oh, yeah, I'm great."

"Watch the attitude," Steve warned. You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down at your uneaten food.

"Steve." Bucky looked at his friend, giving him the puppy eyes he couldn't ignore. "Give her a break."

Steve sighed. "If you really don't want to eat, fine, we'll go over the rules instead. Buck, you mind cleaning up?"

Bucky downed his wine, sighing as he and Steve stood. You were hesitant to follow, but when Steve held out his hand for you to take, you realized you didn't have much of a choice. He threaded his fingers in yours, guiding you back to the bed.

"Sit," he told you. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, Steve standing in front of you. "Good girl."

You couldn't stop the involuntary shudder that ran down your spine at the pet name. Steve smirked at your reaction.

"We're going to go over the rules, okay? There aren't many." He waited until you nodded to continue. "First off: We won't tolerate disobedience. You'll do as you're told when you're told, and you'll drop the backtalk. Got it?"

You couldn't understand the fear that settled in your gut. You should be angry—furious—at him for trying to control you, but you were just unbelievably scared. They held all the power here. You were helpless.

"Second rule," Steve growled, "you answer when Bucky or I talk to you."

"Okay," you forced out. Steve's expression relaxed a little.

"Good. Until you can show Bucky and me that you're ready to move upstairs with us, you'll stay down here. We bought you some books already, but if you want anything else to keep you entertained, just tell us. We'll get you anything you want, within reason. And you can make as much noise as you want down here—we soundproofed it. Doesn't mean you won't get punished for causing a ruckus, though."

Your lower lip wobbled a little as you responded with, "I understand."

"You will treat us with respect. You'll use your manners, you'll be sweet. You will accept what we give you, and you'll do as you're told when you're told.

"You disobey us, you will be punished. And trust me, Bucky and I can get pretty creative when we want to be. Your attitude at the dinner table was your only warning."

"I understand," you said quietly. "I'm sorry."

The apology slipped past your lips before you could stop it.

"Buck and I will do everything we can to make you happy and comfortable. That's our job, sweetheart, to make you happy." He gently cupped your cheek, his hand so warm you had to stop yourself from leaning into his touch. "You already make us so happy, we just want to return the favor."

You frowned at that, confused. Steve could see the wheels turning in your head, an amused smile on his face.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, princess?"

"Why am I here?" you asked carefully, your shoulders tense as you avoided his gaze. "I just—I don't understand."

Steve sighed, squatting down so he was level with you. "Because, sweetheart, we need you. You are perfect for us, baby, I knew that the moment I first saw you on the ice. The way you danced was so—so beautiful, you know? Like you were walking on water. I saw the way you seemed to relax, like every burden was being lifted off your shoulders. It's the only time you've seemed truly free. You're always so busy, sweetheart; between classes and practice, when do you have time for yourself? You're gonna work yourself to death, baby. We can help you, we can make you happy. I know you don't understand right now, but we are what you need.

"And you'll make us happy. We want you with us, want you in our relationship. We love you, sweetheart, we just want to show you that we love you."

You didn't realize you were crying until Steve brushed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away a tear.

"I know it's a lot, baby, but it's the truth. We're gonna take care of you, princess. You'll be safe here."

Your hands shook as you folded them in your lap, wringing your dress through your fingers. The fearful pout on your face had Steve trying to stop a smile. The crease between your brows was just too cute.

"But—I was happy," you sniffled. "I love skating, I love dancing. . . I was going to graduate in the spring. You're taking my life away, why can't you see that?"

"We know it's tough, doll," Bucky said, leaning against the threshold, his arms crossed against his chest. "We know it'll take some time for you to acclimate to your new life, but if you're patient with us, we'll be patient with you."

"No. You don't understand—" Your fear was quickly dissipating into anger. They weren't listening to you, they weren't going to listen. "I don't want to be here. You say you care about me? That you want to make me happy? Then let me go, please."

Steve sighed, looking back towards Bucky. His gaze turned hard as he looked back at you. "You're staying with us. We'll talk about some things we can get you to keep you from growing bored."

Your face fell at his comment.

"My ma used to cross-stitch," Bucky commented. "I would watch her and my sister go at it for hours. I'm sure it isn't too hard to figure out."

"Or knitting?" Steve piped. "You ever knit, sweetheart?"

You shook your head after a moment, appalled that they were having this conversation so nonchalantly. Rage radiated within you, angry tears threatening to spill past your lashes as you dug your nails into the palms of your hands.

"There anything you like to do, princess?" Steve asked.

You shrugged simply, looking down at your hands. Steve frowned, opening his mouth to speak when Bucky stopped him, resting his hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, doll, think about it for a bit." He gave you a small smile before giving Steve an exasperated look. "Stevie and I'll take the dishes upstairs, why don't you go ahead and get ready for bed?"

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

"Good girl, we'll be back down in a bit."

You watched them leave, the big heavy door locking you in behind them. You felt numb—fuzzy—like you weren't actually there. Or maybe you were just hoping you weren't. That maybe this was all some drunken-induced nightmare. Maybe you had drunk too much and wound up in an alcohol-induced coma.

You stood, stiffly walking toward the dresser. You shuffled through the drawer, looking for something suitable to sleep in. All you could find were silky slip ons and vintage nightgowns with lace on the hems and little bows—you hated it. You hated how they picked your wardrobe like you were a doll, how they were keeping you down here like a. . . a pet. Like you were a puppy they chose to take home from a shelter, keeping you in the basement to acclimate you to the house.

You groaned in frustration, slamming the drawer shut. You pace back and forth between the width of the room, pulling at your hair as you tried to put your thoughts together. Your head was spiraling, completely overwhelmed as you drowned in rage and fear and stress until you felt like you couldn't breathe.

You jumped as you heard the door unlocking, turning your head just in time to see Steve enter the room. You frowned, watching him wearily as he smiled at you, closing the door behind him. "Hey, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?" It slipped past your lips before you really thought about it, mouth clamping shut as soon as you saw the way Steve's jaw clenched.

"Made you some hot chocolate," he said, holding up a mug. "Sprinkled some cinnamon in it, just how you like."

You felt your stomach drop. You blinked once, twice, swallowing the bitter disgust that was threatening to overflow your senses. "Oh, um. . . thank you."

He moved to set it down on the nightstand, turning back to you. "Why haven't you changed yet?"

"I—uh—I just—" You looked down at your florally dress, eyes flitting back up to meet his. "I couldn't decide what to wear," you lied.

Steve watched your eyes flick to the side, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress. He smiled, stepping close to you and hooking his finger under your chin to tilt your head up. "Why don't we go find something, huh? Come on."

He wrapped his hand around yours and guided you to the dresser, opening up a drawer. He started to shuffle through the clothing. "Let's see. . . how 'bout this, sweetheart?"

He pulled out a little black silk slip-on, holding it up by the straps. Your jaw dropped, completely appalled as tears quickly began to well in your eyes in panic. You had just started to stutter out an answer when Steve chuckled.

"I'm just kidding, sweetie, relax."

Your stomach flipped as you watched him smile—a genuine smile that split his lips and showed off his pearly white teeth. You blinked, stunned, taking in the smile lines in the corner of his eyes and the barely-there dimples on his cheeks.

"How 'bout this one?"

He showed off a modest nightgown with strings laced up the neckline, doily lace trimming the hem of the collar and the skirt and pink bows decorating the fabric. You scowled, barely stopping a grimace from spreading across your lips. Steve caught it anyway, huffing out a laugh.

"Not that one either, huh? Okay. . . . What about this one?"

He pulled out a sleeveless silk sleep-dress with lace tracing the neckline and the straps. The color of the silk reminded you of something a newly wed would wear on her wedding night, that off-white ivory that many women dreamed of. Knowing that was probably the simplest nightgown you had, you let out a sigh, your shoulders dropping.

"That one works," you told him.

Steve beamed, his eyes sparkling as he shut the dresser drawer, handing you the nightdress. "Alright then, go ahead and get changed."

You nodded, giving him a small smile back as you went to turn. He caught your arm, his grip firm yet gentle. "Where ya goin'?"

You frowned at him. "The . . . bathroom? To change?"

His grip on your arm tightened for only a second, enough to send a shudder down your spine. You bit the inside of your cheek to try to steel yourself, hoping you didn't look like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"You don't need to go to the bathroom to change, doll. You can do it right here."

"But—"

"Now, sweetheart. I won't ask again."

You nodded, shuffling the sweater off your shoulders. You ducked your head, your hands wringing the sweater tightly. "Could you—um—could turn around, at least? Please?"

Steve sighed and you dropped your gaze. "Fine. But you're gonna have to learn to get used to Buck and me eventually."

You nodded and watched as he turned, thanking him. You were quick to unzip the dress and let it pool at your feet. You struggled to unclasp the bra, grunting in annoyance when it wouldn't come undone.

"You need some help, sweetheart?" Steve taunted. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"No."

You decided to just slide the straps off your arms and shuck the bra down your body until you were able to step out of it, dropping it on the floor and pulling the nightgown over your head. It was shorter than you anticipated, the hem reaching mid-thigh instead of your knees.

"Okay, you can turn around."

Steve took two steps and he was facing you again, smirking down at you.

"You should drink your hot chocolate before it gets cold," he said.

"Oh, uh—right." You sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping your fingers around the mug before you took a small sip. Steve watched you intently, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. "So —um. . . where's Sergeant Barnes?"

"He's finishing the dishes," Steve told you. "Should be down here soon. Why, you miss him already?"

You felt your cheeks heat up, your fingers tapping against the ceramic of the mug as you sputtered out your answer. "N-no, it—it's not—I was just curious, is all."

Steve chuckled. You swallowed nervously, taking a prolonged sip from your mug—mainly as an excuse to avert your eyes from Steve's gaze. You kept silent, focusing on the warmth that flooded your chest every time you took a sip of your hot chocolate. You blinked lazily, your body feeling heavier. Steve sat down next to you, and as you turned your gaze you realized for the first time he had changed. Before, he was wearing trousers and a button-up shirt. Now, though, he's in sweatpants and a plain white shirt.

"Bucky thinks you'd like a record player down here," he said, "something so it isn't so quiet. We could get you some cd's, some records. Does that sound good?"

Not how does that sound? or would you like that? But does that sound good? He wasn't giving you any other option but to comply. To be okay with his decision. You blinked again, finding it harder to open your eyes this time as you nodded, muttering a soft, "yeah."

Steve smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. You jumped, spine going rigid as you felt his lips split into a grin against your skin.

"You're too cute, babydoll."

You swallowed, sucking in a shaky breath, bringing the near-empty mug to your lips. You couldn't tell if it was the trembling in your arms or if your hands were really shaking, but you gripped the ceramic tighter so you wouldn't drop it. You had never been called that before. Babydoll. You always hoped you would have a partner who would call you by that pet name, but the few boys you dated in high school and freshman year of college were. . . shallow. Your second boyfriend hardly ever told you he loved you. But—even still—you never thought the first time someone would call you that would be a situation as fucked up like this one.

The loud click of the lock broke you from your thoughts, the solid steel door opening slowly. Bucky Barnes stepped in, shutting the door behind him, smiling at you as you heard the dreaded lock click again.

"Hey, doll," he greeted. He ran his flesh hand through his cropped hair, smiling down at you as he crossed over to you and Steve.

You honestly couldn't tell if you acknowledged him or not. Your vision was clouding and your eyelids felt heavy like you could fall asleep in a second if the two men would let you.

"She drink her hot chocolate?" you heard Bucky ask.

"Practically chugged it," Steve answered. You frowned, not understanding their words. You looked down at your empty mug precariously, your brow furrowed as you tried to look for something obvious. Like a roach.

You shivered as Bucky took the mug from you, his fingers ghosting over yours and he smiled. You shuddered again, goosebumps rising upon your skin when Steve started combing his hand through your hair.

"What's the matter, baby?" Bucky asked. "You cold?"

It took you a moment to answer, your eyelids closed, as you mumbled out a soft, "yeah."

You felt Bucky's hovering presence leave for only a moment before it returned; you cracked your eye open to see him holding out a cardigan sweater.

"Go on."

You took it with a soft 'thank you,' and pulled the woven wool over your shoulders. It was so soft against your skin, you hugged your arms around your body as the plush fuzz tickled your bare arms, letting out a sigh. Your head started to droop after you closed your eyes and Steve had to nudge your chin up with his finger. You heard him chuckle.

"I think that's our queue to go to bed," he said. Your world was spinning then, as two hands came under the crooks of your shoulders and lifting you. You let out a lazy yelp as Bucky plopped you down on the center of the bed. You bounced on the mattress a few times before you settled, your eyes falling on Steve as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Wha. . .wha're ya doin'?" you slurred, heart racing as you felt the bed dip.

"We're goin' to bed, baby," Bucky said like it was obvious, crawling into the bed beside you. You frowned at him, your mind foggy as you tried to wrap your brain around what was happening.

"I. . . no—I don't want—"

Steve shushed you, climbing into bed on the other side of you. His hand pressed against your chest, the width from his thumb to his pinky finger spanning across your entire front as he pushed you back with little effort. Your back landed on the plush mattress with a soft 'oof'. "You're just tired, sweetheart," he smiled. "Go to sleep."

You couldn't fight it. Their body heat engulfed you like a typhoon engulfing the mainland; it was overwhelming. You were imprisoned between the two supersoldiers and being forced into a slumber so violently it was like you were being smothered with a pillow. You let out a breathy whine as Bucky wrapped an arm around your torso.

"Hush, doll," Bucky cooed. "You're okay. Just close your eyes."

You fought some more, sluggishly flailing your arm and trying to bat away hands until Bucky had pinned you down, hugging your body flush to his. He crooned your name softly against your ear, his hot breath sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"You're alright, baby," he hushed. "Just relax, Stevie and I are right here. Just go to sleep, princess."

You didn't know if it was the drug or the cozy heat that radiated off of the supersoldiers—maybe it was both—but you drifted off soon after, your body feeling like maple syrup was running through your veins. Steve and Bucky watched as you settled down, your shoulders dropping as your breathing evened out.

"Is she asleep?" Bucky asked softly, lifting his head to look at Steve.

"Yeah, she passed out quick, I might've put too much of the sedative in her drink." Steve was on his side, arm under his pillow as he looked down at the girl curled against his chest.

"I told you, she isn't very big—half a dose would've done the job just fine."

"I just want her to be comfortable," Steve pouted, letting out a sigh. "She was so scared earlier. I just wanna show her she doesn't have'ta be afraid."

"It'll just take some time, Stevie," Bucky told him. "Soon enough, she'll see that this is what's best for her, I promise."

"Yeah." Steve paired with your hair, listening to your soft snores as silence filled the room.

Steve agreed with Bucky—it was too quiet down there. Apart from your small breaths, Steve could only hear the quiet buzz of silence. He thought about records he and Bucky could get you; you liked soft music—acoustic and folk/indie. You really liked an artist named Taylor Swift. Steve tried to ask Bucky if he knew who she was, but he didn't, so Steve ended up downloading her entire discography onto his phone—with Sam's help, who refuses to leave him alone about it. Steve actually liked a lot of her songs; he thought they suited you.

"Do you think it's too dark in here?" Bucky's low voice seemed to echo throughout the silent room.

Steve had been thinking the same thing. There was only a little night light plugged into the bathroom, so you had a little bit of guidance, but they'd have to get you another—maybe in the other room, if they got one bright enough. You were used to the city noise, the light seeping through the cracks of your blinds.

"Yeah," Steve whispered back. "We could get her another nightlight?"

Bucky hummed in response. "Maybe something that sits on her nightstand? It'd be a little brighter than a plug-in."

"Yeah, we'll look for something in the morning."

They stayed quiet for a while, both supersoldiers admiring you while you slept soundly between them. Steve ran his fingers through your hair while Bucky's traced shapes over your bare thigh under the blankets.

"This is perfect, Stevie," Bucky smiled, breaking the silence, reaching over you to grab Steve's hand.

Steve lulled in agreement, still watching the way your chest rose softly with your quiet breaths. "We waited so long for this, Buck, to have her here. She's gonna learn to love us, We just need to be patient."

"I just. . . she's right here, Steve. We're holding her and all I wanna do is fuck her until she can't think—but she's so scared. I don't wanna scare her."

"I know," Steve sighed. "But soon we won't have to control ourselves, she'll be begging for us soon enough."

Bucky had to stifle a groan just thinking about it — about how your little voice would sound begging for his cock, begging him to fuck you silly.

You shuffled between the two of them, letting out the smallest grunt as you readjusted. Bucky gripped your hip to still you, his thumb rubbing small circles into the divot of your hip. You stopped squirming, letting out a small huff before you relaxed.

"She's restless," Bucky noted quietly like he was talking to himself.

"Side effect of the sedative," Steve said. "We'll have to play around with the dosage. Maybe try half a dose tomorrow night, see if even that's too much."

Bucky nodded. "She'll need to eat more tomorrow, too. What she ate at dinner wasn't nearly enough."

"She had a big day," Steve countered. "She was hungover, for one. And she was a little shell-shocked, poor baby couldn't wrap her pretty head around all this."

Bucky huffed out a laugh as Steve grinned.

"I love you, Stevie."

"I love you too, Buck."

--

Your body protested the first time you woke up. Your senses were fuzzy, only half awake as you protested with a high pitched whine, curling in on yourself. You were so warm, so comfortable, it was lulling you back to sleep as you were struggling to wake.

"Shh, babygirl." There was a hand carding through your hair, drifting you back into slumber. "It's alright, go back to sleep."

You were too tired to actually comprehend the voice, or the hands in your hair and on your hip, running up and down your waist. You were too lagged to feel the two bodies crowding you between them, trapping you between their heat.

You drifted off again just as you felt the lingering touch of lips on your cheek.

The second time you awoke, you were much colder. Maybe that's why it was easier to open your eyes. It was pitch black in your room and for a moment you worried it was still the middle of the night—until you felt the bedsheets. It wasn't nighttime, there just weren't any windows in your prison. It could be noon and you wouldn't be able to tell.

You forced yourself into a sitting position, groaning when your head started to throb so violently you thought it was going to explode. You leaned forward to search for the edge of the bed, yelping as your hand never touched the mattress and you went toppling off the edge. You landed on the floor with a dull 'thump', pulling the covers down with you. You weren't able to catch yourself in time before your head smacked onto the floor.

"Fuck. . . ." you whimpered, shakingly bringing a hand up to your forehead. The lights flipped on, and two pairs of hands were on in less than a second.

"What happened, doll? Are you okay?" It was Bucky. His hands rested on your forearms as he pulled you up, cradling you to his chest. Steve's fingers grazed the bump that had started to form along your hairline and you winced, trying to escape the pain that jolted through your head. "C'mon babydoll, use your words."

"She hit her head," Steve said gently.

"M'fell," you grumbled, clutching at your temples.

"Why don't you let Stevie look at it, princess?" Bucky coaxed, hooking his finger under your chin and turning you to face Steve. You let out a high pitched whine in protest as you were forced out of the darkness the crook of Bucky's arm provided, your eyes closed as your head throbbed in the light. Bucky shushed you, his fingers running through your hair gingerly.

"She might have a concussion," Steve mumbled to himself, his thumb just barely grazing the contusion. "Nothing major."

You grumbled out a garbled response and burrowed your face back into the crook of Bucky's arm.

"No, baby, I need you to look at me."

When you refused to move your head, Bucky kissed your hair, whispering to you, "C'mon, precious. All you gotta do is look at Stevie for a little bit, then we'll turn the lights back off. Can you do that for us?"

You were quiet for a moment before you looked back up at Steve, cracking your eyes open. He smiled at you, sneaking a quick look at Bucky before he returned his focus to you. He holds his pointer finger up in front of your face and tells you to follow it with your eyes. He glided his finger to the left first, and your gaze followed until the appendix left your vision. He did the same thing to the right side. Your head was pulsating under your skull and you had to close your eyes, squeezing the bridge off your nose to alleviate some of the pressure.

"She has a small concussion," Steve confirmed. "We'll just have to keep an eye on it. Nothing else we can do about it."

"Get off me," you scowled, shoving yourself out of Bucky's lap. You were shaky as you stood, tripping over yourself before you found your balance.

"We're just making sure you're okay, doll." Bucky grabbed Steve's hand to keep him from shouting at you.

"You're the reason I fell in the first place," you grumbled, scoffing as you rubbed your temples. They were the ones who brought you to this basement, it was their fault you couldn't find the edge of the bed when it was so god damn dark.

"What'd you say, sweetheart?"

"Let it go, Steve," Bucky pleaded. Steve didn't listen.

You didn't have time to even blink before he was on you, hand gripping your jaw tightly and shoving you against the wall.

You winced when the back of your head collided with the wall, his fingers digging into your jawline.

"You wanna try that again, sweetheart?" he scowled.

A whimper escaped your lips, your small fingers wrapping around his large wrist.

"St—stop."

"Last chance, Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," you squeaked. "I—I didn't mean it. . . I'm sorry."

Steve closed his eyes, inhaling like he was physically restraining himself, and stepped back. He let go of you and you gasped for breath, doubling over and wheezing.

"I'm not gonna tell you again," Steve glowered. "We won't tolerate your attitude. That was your last warning."

You nodded furiously, tears welling in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks.

"Get dressed," Steve ordered, motioning for Bucky to stand up. "We'll be back down with breakfast in a few minutes."

[reki-of-the-valley]

Fall For You Like the Rain From the Clouds

Here it is! The rain fic from this post of mine!

Find it on AO3 here

1- Me

Langa groans as Reki bounces around his room. His face is pressed against the window, watching the rain stream down the glass, and Langa knows that he’s glowing. He knows that Reki is excited. He knows that Reki loves the rain. But he hates it. Langa hates the rain with a passion and nothing can change that.

Nothing good ever happens when it rains and Langa’s come to accept that. Rain just makes everything horrible. Everything feels sticky from the heavy humidity, the smell of earthworms makes Langa gag, his hair dye always runs down his neck, staining his clothes in the process, and more than half of the time he’s been caught in the rain, Langa’s caught a cold. Rain makes everything absolutely shitty and Langa’s luck in life does not make it better. Stormy weathers always announce another horrible thing that will happen in his life, like his fight with Reki, like when…

Langa flops down into Reki’s bed, his textbook heavy on his face. If he doesn’t see the bad weather, then it doesn’t exist. Nothing bad can happen if he ignores the storm. Maybe he can sleep the bad weather way. Anything to get away from the gray skies.

“Langa!” Langa pushes the textbook down onto his chest, his eyes locking with Reki’s. They’re shinning, big and excited, as Reki leans over him. Langa gulps, his heart pounding in his chest. Reki’s not usually this close. “Langa, c’mon! No one’s outside and I want to try something!”

Langa shakes his head. Even if Reki is looking at him with his big amber eyes, looking so excited, Langa still hates the rain. Whatever he feels for Reki will not make his hatred for the rain go away. Reki might be able to get him to act like a fool, but he won’t get him to stop hating the rain.

“C’mon, dude! Please?” Langa shakes his head once again. He will not be led out under the storm. “I need you, man! Who’s gonna be there to cheer me on when I fall on my ass? Please, Langa? I’ll buy you whatever snack you want if you come, I promise.”

Langa groans. Promising snacks is probably considered cheating since Reki knows Langa can’t refuse the offer. Langa forgets his wallet at home half of the time, and there’s always something he wants from the supermarket or the vending machine, something he would buy if he had his wallet on him. So the promise of getting him whatever it is that he would have bought himself, but can’t due to his forgetfulness, it’s cheating. Reki knows it. And he’s using it against Langa.

Langa sighs as he sits up, his textbook tumbling to the ground. He doesn’t want to go, but with everything that Reki’s said to him, promised him, he can’t refuse the boy. Langa knows that with enough pleading he would have ended up giving in, no matter how much he wants to deny that truth. In the end, he always gives in to Reki, gives in to his excitability, to his eagerness, to his happiness. Rain is the worst, but Reki is the best.

“Explain to me again why you love the rain so much?” Langa asks as he pulls his shoes on.

Reki’s grinning, holding his board tightly to his chest. He’s shinning against the dark skies behind him, the front door wide open. And he’s shifting from foot to foot, unable to stand still. It’s nothing new, Reki’s fidgeting, but sometimes it’s tiring to watch. When Langa’s mood is as dark as the sky, then Reki’s bouncing makes him want to turn away and crash into the nearest soft surface.

“Dude! Isn’t it obvious? The rain in your face, the deserted streets, the cool wind, what’s not to love? And I just made these new wheels that I really wanna test out and there’s just no better time than now!” He’s glowing. Reki is glowing under the porch light. “The grip is gonna be freaking amazing on these!”

Langa sighs, clenching his jaw as he pushes himself up from the ground. He doesn’t take his board. He doesn’t take anything actually. His own weight is already too much for him to bear, he can’t put on anything else.

“Can’t I just watch you from inside?”

Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s as they step outside. The rain is beating down, each drop bouncing off the pavement, but Reki doesn’t care. He’s running out under it, shaking his hair out of his face as he lets it fall freely against his skin. He grins and Langa wonders how he can bear it. How can he like the rain that much? But then he’s tilting his head towards Langa and Langa gulps.

“Well, you coming?”

Langa has no control over his legs. They carry him to the boy even if he really doesn’t want to be there, the rain soaking him to the bone. He curses Reki’s power over him. He curses his own desire to be near the boy.

Langa watches Reki kick at the puddles as they make their way down the street, to the empty parking lot they sometimes go to when they don’t want to go all the way to the skatepark. He’s giggling as he jumps into one, splashing Langa in the process. He’s already soaked, but the extra splashing makes him groan again as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.

“I hate it here.”

“C’mon, man!” Reki tosses his board to the ground. It lands in a puddle and Langa steps aside before he can be splashed again. “You gotta learn to have fun.”

And he’s skating off. His board is gripping onto the wet pavement, not slipping at all. Reki didn’t exactly explain how these wheels are any different from the other ones he used in the rain. He only said that their grip should theoretically be better, and seeing him slide down the street, his prediction seems correct. Langa watches as he zigzags down the street. He watches as he lands an ollie. The board doesn’t slip as it hits the road and Reki shouts, both arms up in excitement.

“It worked!”

Langa rolls his eyes as Reki swerves and makes his way back to him. He can feel the rain drip down his neck, down onto his shoulders, and he knows that blue hair dye is soaking through his shirt. He knows that as soon as he gets home, he’ll have to soak it with the stuff his mother bought, the detergent that pulls out all of the hair dye from the towels he uses to dry his hair after a shower. If he’s lucky, no trace of tonight will remain. But given his track record of luck when it comes to rain, he might as well say goodbye to his shirt right now.

“Great. The wheels grip fine. Can we go back in now?”

Reki puffs his cheeks and stares at Langa before bursting out laughing. “You always look so funny when you pout, you know that?” Langa glares at Reki who is still laughing. He almost kicks the board from under his feet out of petty revenge but holds back. “C’mon,” Reki pokes Langa’s cheek, “you gotta learn to have fun, man!”

“I have more than enough fun. I don’t need to enjoy the rain.”

Reki is mocking him, exaggerated mimicking, but before Langa can do or say anything to make him stop, he’s pushing off down the deserted street once more.

Langa’s toes curl in his shoes. The rain has soaked through his socks and everything feels itchy. He wants to go back home. He wants to kick his shoes off, get rid of the puddle that’s formed under the soles of his feet. He wants to jump in the shower and envelop himself with the hot rain that falls from the showerhead instead of the cold natural shower that makes him feel sticky and gross. He wants to wrap himself in a big blanket, those with the fluffy cotton on the inside, and watch a cheese movie he’s seen a hundred times but still can’t get enough of. He wants to be inside, far from the troubled skies that make him grumpy.

But Reki is skating up and down the street, coming to abrupt stops before pushing off once again. He’s trying everything he can think of to test the grip of his wheels while Langa just stands there, trying his best to conceal his shivers and chattering teeth, hands stuffed deep in the pocket of the hoodie Reki lent him. He’s having fun while Langa is miserable.

“Reki, can we please go back in?”

Reki can’t hear him, too busy rolling through puddles.

“Reki,” Langa tries again, dragging his cold feet towards the boy. “Reki, I hate it out here. Can we go back?”

Still, nothing. The rain is beating down too strongly. It’s draining Langa’s words out.

“Reki!”

He finally comes to a halt, splashing Langa once more, not that either one notices. Langa is practically panting, his whole body shaking. He’s cold, he’s freezing, but his face is red. It’s red and hot but it’s also so cold that it burns. His head is starting to hurt and he can’t feel his toes or fingers any more.

“Reki, I’m going home.”

“What?” Reki pinches his eyebrows. “Why?”

Langa clenches his jaw. His teeth are shattering and his shoulders are tense. He’s been outside for long enough now. “I hate the rain, that’s why. I’m cold and miserable and I want to go home.”

Reki sighs as he pulls his hoodie off. Langa recoils as the sights of Reki’s skin, the way his t-shirt rides up his stomach, clinging there instead of falling back as soon as Reki’s arms are back to his side. And Langa tenses as the hoodie is tossed on his head, the wet hood hitting him in the face.

“Sorry, dude.” Reki pushes the hood back, revealing Langa’s face. “I know it’s not much and that it’s soaked, but it’ll keep the rain out of your face for the time being, okay? And,” Reki picks up his board from the ground, tucking it under his arm, “I’m sorry for pulling you out in the rain. I didn’t think you hated it that much.”

There’s a beat of silence. Langa doesn’t know what to say; he wants to keep complaining, complain about his itchy feet, complain about his trembling fingers, complain about his chattering teeth, but no words want to come out. So he just stares at Reki, trying his best to not shake too much; he doesn’t want to make Reki worry.

Reki’s hand finds its way to Langa’s shoulder. His fingers dig into the fabric covering Langa’s shoulder, a reassuring squeeze before pushing him forward to start walking. His smile is there, but it’s not bright as it was moments before. It’s not the smile he had when his head was tilted back, laughing as the rain fell onto his face.

“Let’s go back to my place. It’s closer than yours, so you won’t have to be in the rain as long. And you can borrow some of my clothes while yours dry.”

Langa gives him a curt nod. He feels bad, pulling Reki out of the rain that had made him smile so big. Langa feels bad, but then his body is shaking so bad that even Reki comments on it. He’s laughing a bit, that choked laughter where he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to laugh but he can’t completely conceal it, as he says something about Langa not dealing with the cold that well.

“It’s not like snow,” Langa says, rubbing his hands together in the pocket of the hoodie he’s wearing. It doesn’t do much, but at least he’s moving and he can pretend to be warming up. “Rain soaks through everything and snow… You have thick coats and mittens and scarves and hats and boots. You’re bundled up enough to not be cold. But with rain… It just sucks.”

“Remind me to buy you a raincoat and rainboots then.”

Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s, flashing him a smile. Langa bites the inside of his cheeks, falling back into a pout as he turns away from the boy. The teasing almost feels comforting, but not enough to make him forget about the uncomfortable rain. It feels nice to hear Reki laugh at himself, but it’s not enough to get Langa to talk. So he stays silent for the rest of the way back to Reki’s house. He stays silent as Reki keeps talking, talking about everything and nothing at all. He’s silent, but always listening. He always listens to Reki’s chatter and, even if he feels miserable, it cheers him up ever so slightly. Reki’s warmth cheers him up just a little.

Langa hates the rain. Langa hates the rain so much that once the house comes into view, he runs to it. He runs, crashing into the door before pushing it open. He runs, stumbling over his feet as he kicks his shoes off. He runs until the heat of the house hits him in waves of relief. He runs until his body stops shaking, his teeth no longer chattering.

Reki isn’t far behind him, running after him, but not for the same reasons. Unlike Langa, he’s laughing as he chases. He’s laughing as he also kicks his shoes off. He’s laughing as his body crashes against Langa’s, both stumbling down the hallway but catching each other before they fall over. Reki laughs, laughter overflowing with happiness, as he ushers Langa towards the bathroom, urging him to go take a shower before he catches a cold. And Langa complies. Langa lets himself be pushed towards the bathroom, lets himself feel the warmth of the Kyan household even if he knows that he will be sneezing for the next few days.

2 - You

Langa purses his lips as he watches the rain beat down onto the pavement. He’s standing under the awning of the corner store, a bag of snacks hanging from his wrist. Reki is standing next to him, his hand extended to catch a few droplets. He’s grinning at the sky, laughing as he shakes the water from his fingers. He’s grinning as he cups his hands to catch more of the rain. He has fun catching the water and letting it fall onto the ground.

He's grinning as he keeps playing with the rain. And when his eyes lock with Langa’s, his head tilted to the side, they shine. They shine brighter than the thousands of stars that illuminate the night sky they usually skate under. They shimmer and shine and Langa can’t help but sigh. Reki loves the rain just as much as Langa hates it.

Langa stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he looks up at the sky. Gray clouds have covered every patch of blue, denying him any hope of the rain coming to a halt. If he’s lucky, he can take off, run as fast as his body allows him, and be home without too much of a mess. If he’s lucky, the streets won’t be too wet and his shoes will be able to grip onto the pavement instead of tossing him to the ground to eat said pavement. If he’s lucky, he won’t have to be trapped under the rain for too long. If he’s lucky, he won’t be in too much of a bad mood.

But then Reki has his shoulder pressed against his. He’s leaning into Langa, his board pressed to his chest, as he keeps staring at Langa. A little more and he’s falling onto Langa, sending them both tumbling to the ground from his whole weight shifted to the side. Thankfully, Langa is steady on his feet. He’s a pillar of support for Reki and his uncentered center of balance. He’s a pillar and Reki knows this as he lets his head rest against Langa’s.

“Would now be a bad time to suggest taking the long way home?”

Langa glances at Reki, Reki who’s smiling so brightly, feigning innocence with his big, amber eyes glued onto Langa. He purses his lips again before huffing and shaking his head. His eyes follow the way the rain falls to the ground, each drop bouncing before splitting open against the wet pavement. This isn’t some light drizzle he can almost ignore; this is a full-on rainstorm.

Reki straightens out and tucks his board under one arm while he rubs his nose with his free hand. His face doesn’t betray his emotions, but Langa knows that he’s something close to disappointment. He’s come to read the signs. He’s also come to miss the heat that had started to form between their bodies.

“C’mon!” Reki bumps his shoulder against Langa’s. A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he shakes his head, slightly bitter laughter spilling from his mouth. “I just don’t get it. How can you,” he steps out under the rain, his fluffy red hair quickly coming down with the rain and sticking to his head and cheeks, “hate this? It’s just- Dude, it’s freaking awesome!”

Seeing him grin, his cheeks reddening from the cold air, it almost pulls Langa out from under the awning to join him. It almost has Langa forgetting about his absolute hatred of the wet, sticky rain. It almost has him forgetting about it all. Almost, but not quite. Almost, but Langa counters by taking a step back, back almost pressed against the front wall of the little store.

“I already told you: rain is cold and it makes me miserable. But if you need more reasons, then-” Langa holds up a finger as he begins his list of miserable things that come with the downpour. With each reason, he puts up a finger. “It makes my hair drip and it stains my clothes, the humidity is disgusting and I have a hard time breathing, everything feels sticky, rain soaks through everything and my shoes are always wet for the next three days, and worst of all, everything smells of worms which is gross.”

Reki sighs, but his smile doesn’t falter. Langa watches him, eyebrows knit, as he crouches down, pulling off his backpack to strap his board to it. He watches as the boy jumps up to his feet, splashing rain as his feet hit the ground once more. Langa watches his every movement until his brain blanks out, the feeling of Reki’s warm calloused fingers against his own.

“C’mon.” Reki tugs Langa closer to him, a warm smile hazing Langa’s mind as he is forced to step out under the rain. Reki’s fingers tighten around his, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me? It’s fun, I promise.”

Langa is hesitant to believe Reki – he can’t think of a single thing that might be fun about the rain – but he doesn’t pull back. He doesn’t jump back under the awning. He trusts Reki, giving him a curt nod. And having Reki’s warm palms against his, it’s an opportunity Langa can’t give up. He can’t give up his change of having Reki’s hands in his, his precious touch which Langa so desperately longs for.

He might never admit to it, but he loves the feeling of Reki pressed against him. He loves it when Reki leans into his side, their shoulders pressed together as they walk down the street. He loves the feeling of Reki’s whole weight on him as he hugs him excitedly after another victory. He loves the feeling of Reki’s warm hands in his as he guides him around, pointing around with his free hand. Every touch, it never fails to shoot shivers down Langa’s spine, warming his whole body and flushing his face. Reki, with a single touch of his, manages to start a fire in Langa, warmth so different from his usual cold. Comfortable warmth contrasting the horrible cold of the rain.

“Reki…”

Reki raises an eyebrow as Langa begins whining, but his hold on Langa doesn’t loosen as he continues to guide him through the rain.

“Reki, I don’t wanna…” Langa pouts, letting himself be dragged along. “Can’t I just call my mom so she can pick us up or something? I know she’s home right now.”

Reki laughs, his smile so wide and happy. “Stop being such a big baby, man!” His fingers tighten around Langa’s, hands still clasped together as he continues to walk backward, tugging Langa closer to him. “You’ve dealt with way worse at S. So much worse than just a little rain. So c’mon!” His arms swing around, dragging Langa’s along in the movement. “Where’s the Langa that takes up every challenge he’s presented with, even the most insane ones? Where’s the reckless dumbass that never backs down from a challenge?”

Langa sighs as he continues dragging his feet against the street. He sighs as he feels the dampness of his hair, the blue-stained rain trickling down his neck. He sighs as his lungs begin to feel heavy from the humidity, the air clogging the entryway at the base of his throat. He sighs as his toes curl in his shoes, beginning to itch once more, his socks and sneakers soaking through.

“Only you’re crazy enough to skate in the rain, Reki. Because out of all the things I’ve ever done, this here,” Langa looks around the deserted street, his attempt at gesturing at the rain without his hands, “it’s the worst thing ever.”

“I promise you’ll have fun.”

Despite the rain, Langa somehow manages to smile. He manages to smile as Reki continues to drag him along, both hands still flush against Langa’s, his grip not loosening one moment. He manages to smile as Reki beams, his head tilted back, raindrops kissing his sun-kissed face. He manages to smile as he watches Reki so happy, so excited about the rain. He smiles as Reki goes on and on about the rain, about every wonderful thing that it brings: puddles to jump in, deserted streets to skate down, bright rainbows as the clouds start to part, beautiful blooming flowers in the morning. The list goes on and Langa can’t stop smiling. He can’t stop smiling as Reki laughs that beautiful laugh of his, excited and free. Langa smiles because Reki always manages to find a silver lining. He finds something beautiful even to the most dreadful of things. He always manages to brighten up Langa’s somber moods.

“Oh! And you can only do this when it rains!”

Langa frowns as Reki slips his fingers out of his, their hands parting ways as the boy slings his backpack to the ground and dashes off. Langa frowns as he shoves his hands back into his pockets, his plastic bag filled with snacks hitting his leg. He frowns until he’s snorting, laughter coming as he watches Reki jump, both feet landing in a puddle and sending him flying backward. Langa snorts as Reki yelps, trying in vain to grab onto the air.

For the first time, the rain makes Langa laugh. He laughs as Reki remains on his back, lying in the middle of the street, too stunned to get up. Langa laughed until he can’t breathe, crouching next to Reki to catch his breath.

“Right.” Langa takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm his fits of laughter. “Nothing quite like rain for you to bust your ass.”

“I hate mud,” Reki grumbles, still sprawled on the wet ground.

Langa doubles down laughing, falling to his knees as he chokes on his own laughter. It’s been a while since the last time he had laughed this much. It’s been a while since the last time he had clutched his stomach, gasping for air, desperately trying to calm his laughter before it made him pass out completely. It’s been a while since the last time his laughter had brought tears to his eyes.

Reki finally manages to sit up, laughing as well as he rubs the back of his head. He laughs that pretty laughter of his, loud and unguarded. He laughs as he rubs his nose, his whole face flushed from the cold. He laughs as he shoves Langa to the side, causing him to fall back into a puddle of his own. He laughs until it’s all Langa can hear, every hitch in his breathing, every snort, every little detail in his laugh pattern.

Together, they laugh until it hurts.

“I told you!” Langa gasps as he kicks Reki’s foot, drawing his attention to him. “The rain sucks.”

“And yet,” Reki leans closer to Langa, flicking his forehead as he grins his sunshine grin, “you’re laughing. See? Told you you’d have fun, dude!”

Langa can’t deny Reki’s words. He can’t deny that he’s having fun. He can’t deny that he’s enjoying himself as he pushes himself off the ground and pulling Reki up to join him, their hands coming together once again. He can’t deny the fun he’s having as he laughs so freely. He can’t deny that Reki was right. Not when he has completely forgotten about the rain trickling down his face and neck. Not when he’s forgotten all about the sticky humidity and the smell of earthworms. He can’t all the fun he’s having in the rain as he watches Reki jump from puddle to puddle like a child having the time of his life. He can’t deny any of it, not when he’s being pulled along, dragged into Reki’s game and jumping into the puddles as well. He can’t deny any of it as he laughs, laughs like he’s never laughed before.

No matter how hard Langa might have tried, he can’t deny that he’s having fun. Denial is pointless because Reki is there. Reki, as always, had managed to make him laugh. Reki, as always, had found a way to make him laugh. Reki, as always, had found a way to make him enjoy what life had to offer. Reki, as always, had managed to make Langa fall in love with the world that surrounded him.

3 - Us

The lights of Reki’s room flicker as a flash of lightning illuminates the evening sky outside his window. Langa tenses as the thunder rumbles outside, but Reki is jumping to his feet and running to his window. He throws it open and pushes himself onto his desk, legs folded under his body as he pokes his head out of his room to get a closer view of the storm. Another flash of lightning brightens the dark sky, electricity fizzling through the thick clouds. The thunder doesn’t even have time to reach Langa’s ears for him to grab onto Reki’s hood, pulling him back in the room.

Reki stumbles, falling back onto his desk chair which swivels around the room once or twice. He blinks as Langa pulls the window shut, huffing as he leans back against the cluttered desk. A grin breaks across Reki’s face as he relaxes into his chair.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of thunderstorms.”

“I’m not scared!” Langa snaps before jumping at the sound of yet another crash outside the window. Reki bursts out laughing as Langa whips around, pulling the curtain shut.

“You’re totally scared, dude.” He’s biting his lip, trying to contain his laughter as he rubs his nose. “S’okay, no need to be ashamed. Everyone has their fears.”

“I said I’m not-!”

Langa digs his nails into the desk as he ducks his head, his bangs falling over his eyes that he’s squeezed shut. More thunder rumbles in the distance, tensing Langa’s shoulders. The storm is getting worse, it seems. Even with his eyes shut, he can see that the lights are flickering again, and he fears the worse; if there’s a power outage, he isn’t sure how he’s going to react. He never liked storms and darkness, after all.

Reki’s fingers brush against his cheek and that alone pulls Langa out of his head, spiraling fears of the worse bleeding out as his eyes open to Reki’s look of concern. His head is tilted to the side, eyebrows pulled together as he pushes Langa’s bangs out of his eyes. And Langa feels himself flush as Reki pushes the strand of hair behind his ear, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as his eyes lock with Langa’s. He flushes at the sight of those amber eyes filled with care and kindness.

“Really, it’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t judge you or anything.”

Langa takes a deep breath, trying his best to calm his pounding heart – he isn’t sure if it’s from the storm or from Reki’s touch. He takes a deep breath as he straightens out. His nails are still digging into the wood of the desk, but at least he isn’t shaking anymore. At least he isn’t jumping into Reki’s arms as another clap of thunder shakes the window behind him. He’s calm. Completely calm. Totally calm because he isn’t scared. He is not afraid of the storm. He simply hates the rain.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Langa peels himself off of the desk. Tentatively, they return to what they had been doing before the rain had begun to beat down to the ground. Langa makes his way back to Reki’s bed, pulling his legs to his chest, back to the wall, as his phone rests against his knees. Reki drops his body to the ground, both elbows pressed to his sides as he holds his phone above his face. The air is tense and heavy, but they stay like that, each absorbed by their screens, plunged in silence. They stay like that until Reki is jumping back to his feet and crashing on his bed, his head on Langa’s shoulder.

His eyes twinkle as Langa clicks his phone shut and letting it slide down his knees. His attention is riveted onto Reki who is grinning wider than Langa’s ever seen. Stars play in the boy’s eyes, shining like the fluorescent plastic stars that have been stuck to his ceiling for over a decade now. They shine and Langa knows that he’s doomed. They shine and Langa knows that he’s going to do whatever it is that Reki suggests.

“So…” Langa gulps as Reki starts fiddling with a stray thread poking out of Langa’s sleeve. “Since you’re totally not scared of the storm, I was thinking…”

“Reki, no.”

He doesn’t want to hear the rest of Reki’s thought. Sure, he loves listening to Reki – he can listen to the boy ramble about most anything for hours on end – but he knows that whenever he gets like this, his voice just a little higher than usual, it’s because he’s about to suggest something absolutely horrible. Reki only ever takes that voice when he knows that his suggestion will get them in trouble. He only ever uses that voice when he knows that someone is going to tell him no. So Langa has learned to never trust that voice, that coy little tone of his.

“Maybe we could go outside?”

Langa shakes his head. He knows his eyes are huge. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his horror is obvious on his face. He doesn’t need to see himself to know that Reki can pick up on the obvious signs because nothing about his suggestion appeals to him.

He hates the rain. He hates the lightning and the thunder. He hates the storm that’s brewing outside the house. He hates it all and Reki knows it.

“Absolutely not.”

Reki shifts to his knees before grabbing Langa’s arm. His eyes are big and pleasing, that look that Langa knows he can never resist. And he’s leaning closer, his face so close to Langa’s. His face so dangerously close to Langa’s.

“Oh c’mon, dude! Why not?”

Langa can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He can feel Reki’s warm breath against his skin and his head starts to fuzz. He can feel every one of his short breaths, his every puff of air as he chuckles, waiting for Langa’s answer.

“It’s dangerous outside?”

Reki flops down into his mattress, limbs spread open like a starfish. There’s that sweet laughter hanging in the air again and Langa feels himself crack a little. He feels himself slip. A little more and he might just give in.

“When’s danger ever stopped you from doing something? Like, seriously, since when has danger ever stopped the great Hasegawa Langa and his infinite amazingness?”

Langa sucks in a breath, still shaking his head. He knows his face is burning red, burning from Reki’s admiration, borderline idolization of him, but he can’t let that get to him. He can’t give in to Reki. He cannot let himself be pulled out under the rain clouds. So he does what he knows best; Langa pouts.

Reki shifts again on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows as he looks at Langa. He’s fallen back into something resembling seriousness, but his voice is still light and breathy, filled with adoration. No. Admiration. There’s a difference, Langa has to remind himself.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for. Just give me five minutes in the rain. And I promise,” he smiles as he finally sits up, “I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

Langa sighs. He’s giving in. He’s giving in to Reki’s eagerness. He’s giving in to his shiny eyes. He’s giving in to his adoration of the rain. He’s giving in to whatever Reki wants because in the end, doesn’t he always?

“You get five minutes. And you owe me chocolate bar after this.”

Reki tumbles off of his bed, shouting that Langa’s got himself a deal as he jumps to his feet and grabs Langa’s hand. Langa almost pulls back, startled by the loudness of Reki’s voice, but then his fingers are slipping between Reki's as he is pulled up from the bed. Reki’s grin is blinding, his eyes twinkling. He’s up to something, but Langa can’t tell what it is. Guessing what Reki is up to has always been an impossible game for Langa.

Langa slips on his shoes in silence. He groans as his laces fall undone once more, slipping from his fingers for what feels like the millionth time already. He’s never had a hard time tying his shoes until now, his eyes quickly bouncing between his feet and Reki’s incessant bouncing. He can’t concentrate on a single, simple task. He’s too fixated on Reki. He wants to know what he’s planning. He needs to know what he just agreed to.

Reki turns back to him, his eyes big and shiny, before poking his head out the door again. Langa can see him looking around, his head snapping left and right. He can see the bounce in his step as he excitedly shifts from foot to foot in the doorway. He can feel the excitement rolling off of Reki, buzzing the air around him.

“No one’s out,” he says, turning back to Langa with a smile, a smile like the morning sun peeking through the blinds, shy yet so insistent.

Langa huffs as he pushes himself up from the ground and smooths out his shirt. His shoes are finally tied after far too many attempts.

“No shit it’s deserted. Except you, no one wants to go outside.”

Reki’s smile drops at Langa’s words. His eyes search Langa’s face, perhaps searching for lightheartedness in his tone and features, and for a moment, it’s like the Heavens turned off the stars for the night, stars that usually shimmer and shine in Reki’s now dull eyes. His mouth moves, but no words come out. Nothing comes out, not that Langa would let a single word fill the air before he could fix his obvious mistake. Gently, he places his hand on Reki’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze, bringing the starts back to his world.

“I want to go with you. I said I would.”

Reki’s fingers fiddle and twist with the sleeves of his hoodie, poking through the holes that formed over the years of wear and tear. His eyes quickly shift between his hands and Langa’s face, looking almost unsure if he is allowed to even look at Langa. “It’s really fine if you want wanna. I mean, you’re right. No one would willingly want to go out in this shitty weather.”

“I said-” Langa tenses as another clap of thunder rumbles outside, but he pushes through. He said he would go. He wasn’t going to back out of this. He wasn’t walking away from Reki. “I said you had five minutes.”

Reki’s smile eases its way back against his lips as Langa’s palm brushes against his, fingers slipping between his. His summer sweetness breaks through as Langa smiles back, tone light with tenderness.

“So take me there?”

No star ever shone as bright as Reki as his fingers tighten around Langa’s. No star can ever hold a candle to Reki as he pulls Langa out of the house, his smile brighter than any summer sun. Nothing could ever compare to the joy that he exudes as his hair flattens and sticks to his face from the rain. Nothing can compare to Reki, to all that he is.

His hand doesn’t leave Langa’s as he pulls him along, corner after corner. And with every turn, his grip tightens. It has to be that he’s afraid that Langa would flee back home as soon as he let him go, run the moment he feels Reki’s hold on him loosen. It’s the only explanation Langa can come up with as Reki crushes his hand with his. It’s the only thing that makes sense, not that Reki is making sense to him right now. It doesn’t make sense, his uncontrollable giggles as he glances back at Langa. It doesn’t make sense, his little tugs every time they take a turn.

“Can I at least get a hint as to where you’re dragging me?”

Reki shakes his head, his giggles breaking up his sentence. His grin plays on something mischievous. “Nope! It’s a surprise, dude! You gotta be just a little patient for once.”

Langa sighs as his shoes splash against the pavement. Langa sighs but he doesn’t slow down. They’re practically running now, Reki laughing so openly as he drags Langa along. He laughs as he takes another sharp turn, slipping a little as he pulls Langa down yet another back alley. They’ve taken so many that Langa is lost. He can’t recall every turn they’ve taken, ever corner cut. The only things he knows is that they’re getting farther and farther from Reki’s house and that it’s been more than five minutes that they’ve been outside. All Langa knows is that, besides Reki and himself, there’s absolutely no one around.

They finally come to halt, both panting from the run. Langa, as he catches his breath, takes in his surrounding. He doesn’t know where they are; there’s nothing extraordinary from the deserted street in which they’ve stopped, but he also doesn’t recognize it. He doesn’t know where they are, but Reki seems pleased with himself. He seems pleased with his head tilted back, laughing and grinning. He seems pleased as he quickly glances around.

His cheeks are flushed from exhaustion as he turns on his heel to face Langa. His hair frames his face, sticking to his cheeks from the mixture of rain and sweat. All his clothes had soaked through, falling awkwardly against his body, but he’s still grinning. He’s grinning as if he just won the lottery, the jackpot that is this dimly lit street.

“Reki, what-!”

Langa’s eyes widen as Reki grabs the collar of his shirt. Langa’s breath catches as he’s pulled forward, stumbling on his own feet. Langa’s whole body freezes as Reki’s hands find their way to his cheeks before pressing his lips to Langa’s.

Langa almost misses the electric shock that jolts down his spine at the contact. He almost misses the whole world brightening for a split second, a flash of electricity lighting up the whole world as his lips meet Reki’s in a kiss. He almost misses the clap of thunder that syncs up with Reki’s impulsivity. He almost misses it all as the world fades away, only Reki remaining. Reki and his sweet kiss.

Langa almost doesn’t react, shock short-circuiting his mind. He doesn’t know what to do, actually. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, hands that hover awkwardly around Reki’s waist. Should he hold on to Reki? Should he touch him? Can he do that? Is he allowed?

His whole body is tense, but then he’s squeezing his eyes shut as he tries his best to kiss Reki back. He tries his best to calm his pounding heart and just kiss Reki back. He tries to concentrate all his efforts on Reki, on the cold contact of his lips against Langa’s, on the warmth of his breath, on the sweetness of his kiss. Langa tries to kiss Reki back like he means it, like he wants it, because he does. He wants to kiss Reki, but he doesn’t know how to show Reki that he wants to. Kissing shouldn’t be this difficult. Kissing shouldn’t make the whole world spin. It shouldn’t make his knees so weak.

Reki is the one to break the kiss. It starts and ends with Reki, much like Langa’s new life in Japan. It always starts and ends with Reki. Starts with his laughter and ends with his tired giggles. It starts with his smiles and ends with his heavy eyes. Every day starts and ends with Reki for Langa. Every day for as long as he can hope for.

Reki breaks the kiss, biting his lip as he drops his head on Langa’s shoulder. Reki breaks the kiss, laughter falling from his lips as freely as the rain falls from the clouds. And Langa laughs with him, shaky yet so happy. Never in a million years did he expect to be so happy. Never in a million years did he think it was possible for him to be this happy.

Had he been discreet with his crush on his best friend? Not particularly. He never went out of his way to make it evident, but then Miya was nudging him and telling him that he was gross and being way too obvious with his wide-eyed staring. He never really tried to put it on display, but then Joe was ruffling his hair and telling him to go for it. Langa never really meant for his crush to be as obvious as it was.

Sure, a few jokes about it had slipped out over the months, but he didn’t think Reki had picked up on them. He didn’t even think Reki had heard them since he had never made anything out of them. Like most of the nonsense that he said, Langa thought his crush had gone a thousand feet over Reki’s head, but then, there he is, standing in the rain, completely drenched as he smiles wider than he ever has. Langa smiles into the open air as he laughs with Reki because Reki, despite his oblivious streak, picked up on his not-so-subtle hints. Reki had picked up on them and somehow, by some blessing of life, reciprocated Langa’s feelings. Or at least, Langa sure hopes his feelings are reciprocated given that Reki did drag him out in the rain just to kiss him.

Both their chests heave against each other as their laughter calms. Reki finally straightens out, but still, he stays close to Langa. The palm of his hand finds Langa’s, their fingers lacing together as he pushes a strand of dripping hair behind Langa’s ear. And he presses his smile to Langa’s once more, giddy giggles breaking up their kiss. But Langa can’t complain. He never would complain about that. He would never complain about Reki’s sweet kisses or about the way his eyes shine behind his wet hair. He would never complain about his happy giggles or how he holds Langa’s face so gently. Langa would never complain about having Reki this close, whispers breaking against his lips.

“Maybe now you won’t hate the rain so much.”

And Langa can’t resist it. He can’t resist pressing another kiss to Reki’s mouth, messy and clumsy but filled with adoration. Because Reki is right: Langa won’t hate the rain so much anymore.

[sombreboy]

Please, noona ⤑ switch!jjk

✗ 18+ ✗ pairing: switch!jjk x dom!female reader ✗ genre: pwp smut ✗ word count: 1.5k ✗ warnings: profanity, blowjob, big dick, unprotected sex/creampie. (he subby but then switches at the end ok ok enjoy.) smh im jealous of koo in this one.

Hey, I heard you like subby men. @chimoona​ ily or something

You knew he loved it though..

He loved feeling helpless underneath, being nothing but a plaything for you.

“Just fuck me already…” Jungkook whined in annoyance, tugging at the cuffs above him that kept his wrists tightly pinned to the headboard. He watched the way your head slowly bobbed up and down on his cock, not too slow— but definitely not hard enough for his liking.

It was infuriating as fuck.

You didn’t respond, ignoring his bratty attitude by driving his cock deep down your throat, keeping his bulbous head lodged in the back of it as you stared up at him with a piercing gaze. 

Nothing was more rewarding than watching him fall apart for you.

“Fuck…. Please, please…” his eyebrows were tightly knit together as he was unable to look away, cock throbbing desperately in your throat. 

You didn’t move. It drove him absolutely insane.

“I can’t stand it, noona! Please move! My cock hurts…”

It hurt because you’d been edging him for so long.

You knew he loved it though..

He loved feeling helpless underneath, being nothing but a plaything for you.

You slowly ripped his length from your throat, saliva dribbling down your chin as you smiled, crawling up on top of the man to kiss him, deep and rough with tongue, swirling your wet muscle around his own. He moaned, the sound so whiny and sweet on your tongue as he squirmed underneath you, the taste of himself on your tongue only fueling his arousal.

You pull back to stare down at him with a wicked smile, tilting your head to the side as you observe his expressions. 

“What do you want, little bun? Hm?” You coo softly, brushing his dark curls away from his face. He sighed quietly from your touch, bucking his hips upwards against your fleshy ass.

“I want to cum inside of you. Please. Fuck me, god please..” Jungkook threw his head back against the pillow beneath him, whining and begging for you to grant him something, anything to relieve his painful, aching desires.

‘’I’ve been so good for you, haven’t I?” He added, his doe eyes swirling with nothing but pure submission for you, a slight hint of sadness. He wanted you so bad it physically hurt his heart just thinking about not getting it.

‘’Ah, such a pretty boy when you beg, Koo.’’ You lifted yourself up from where you sat, clothed cunt hovering above where his slick cock laid on his lower abdomen, throbbing in anticipation as he watched you tug your panties to the side, exposing what he’s been craving all along. ‘’Is this what you want?’’ You wrap your fingers delicately around his heavy length, bringing the leaking, swollen head of his cock to rub it up and down your slit, gathering and spreading your juices up to your clit before using him to pleasure yourself. A quiet moan slips past your lips that has Jungkook’s entire body shuddering underneath you, the rustling sound of the chains on the handcuffs striking the room as he kept yanking his arms. He wanted to touch you so fucking bad, to show you just how good he could fuck you if he was given the power.

But it was more fun this way.

‘’Noona….’’ Jungkook’s pitch got higher as he gasped, the self control he possessed was uncanny, holding back from trying to fuck right up into your cunt. He wanted you to sink down on him when you decided to. ‘’Please, please, please…’’

Finally, fucking finally, you gave him what he wanted, slamming down your ass against his upper thighs as his entire length pushed inside of you in one swift, harsh motion. A series of curses slipped through Jungkook’s lips, his body trembling, his head snapping from one side to the other. He was a complete mess for you, your pussy was a fucking wonderland to him.

It was heaven.

‘’Ah, Kookie, you’re so big…’’ You breathed out, placing your palms on his chest for leverage as you began to grind on his cock, using him for your own pleasure. He fucking loved it.

‘’Stretching my tight cunt so well.. Does it feel good baby? Tell me.’’

‘’Yeah, s-shit, fuck..’’ Jungkook’s lower lip was swollen from biting back his moans, but to no avail. The second you started to move up and down on him without mercy, his jaw went slack, lips parting as heavy breaths and moans erupted from his throat.

‘’Yes, noona, it feels so good, keep using me until you cum, please..’’

He was such a good boy, how could you deny him when he begged so well?

You couldn’t…

‘’I will use your pretty cock, my little bun.’’ Your nails dug into the soft flesh of his chest, dragging them down to his stomach. His eyes fluttered shut, hips bucking up to meet you every single time you came down on him, the sound of your skin slapping together sinful and absolutely wonderful.

‘’Are you grateful? That I’m going to cum from using you?’’ You continued, picking up in speed, rolling your hips down. It was difficult to say much else, breathy moans emitting from your lips with every meeting thrust of his own. He was strong, well built, and you loved the desperation in his body to feel you more, deeper, faster, harder.

‘’Thank you, noona… Thank you, I love you, use me, please-- a-are you close? I can’t..’’ Jungkook’s voice broke into a sob when you clawed at his sides, fucking yourself on his cock harder. ‘’I can’t hold it mu-uch longer..’’

The wet sounds of his cock pushing into you was mesmerising, his eyes hyper fixated on how his length disappears every time your hips slam down on him. His body twitches with pleasure, the restraints leaving bruises on his wrists as he continuously jerks at them, annoyed whines turning into frustrated growls the closer he is to cumming.

‘’Y/N, let me loose, I want to fuck you so so bad, please..I promise I’ll fuck you so good.’’

You slow down, procrastinating both of your orgasms, watching his growing frustration turning into aggression. He was so riled up, and as he promised, you were sure he was going to fuck you good if you release him from the cuffs.

He’d earned it, and you craved it... 

‘’Okay, bun. I’ll expect you to make me cum with your cock. Or I won’t let you loose next time.’’ You playfully taunted him, and he felt the corner of his lips tug at your words.

The very second the click of his cuffs echoed, falling from his wrists, he lunged at you with such force that you yelped. He swiftly handled your body with his strength, flipping you over to your stomach. He pulled at your hips, ass up, before shoving his cock back into you, giving you no time to prep yourself on your elbows before he started to fuck you with the utmost greed. 

‘’Oh god, yes, Jungkook!’’ You moan his name, cheek pressing against the soft duvet as you allowed him to use your body this time around, body jolting forward with every thrust.

‘’Gonna c-cum, keep fucking me!’’

Jungkook initially had planned for himself to be able to hold himself from cumming until he’d made you cum first, but it was easier said than done with the absolutely sinful sounds you made, the way your body jiggled with every snap of his hips… Fuck, it was too much.

‘’Fuck, fuck, fuck, no…god, I--’’ Jungkook gasped, cursing through gritted teeth as his hips stuttered, his cum gushing into you-- so, so much, he’d been edged for so long that everything built up flushed out with his release. It was overwhelming, but your moaning spurred him to keep fucking into you through his orgasm-- ignoring the oversensitivity to the best of his ability, he wanted you to cum so badly.

‘’Please, noona, cum-- I can’t, I can’t, I fucking, ah…’’ Jungkook sobbed, gnashing his teeth together as his hips went into a frenzy, fucking into you with his still rigid length, cum sloshing inside of you with every thrust. Most of it dribbled down your thigh and pooled at the sheets, being forced out from your cunt as he fucked you.

As on cue, you hid your face in the duvet, gasping out a silent cry, tugging at the bed. You came around his cock, body tensing up and trembling, the pattern of spasms of your fleshy walls squeezing his sensitive length so hard that he cursed out a high pitched moan.

Jungkook slowed down, breath heavy and in tandem with yours slowly coming back down to normalcy. He winced when he pulled himself off of you to lay down, wrapping his arms around you in a sweaty hug. You nuzzle up against his chest, pressing a little kiss on his chin when he glanced down at you.

‘’Did I do well, noona?’’ He asked, hand mindlessly rubbing down your flushed back.

‘’You did so well, my bun.’’ You praised, looking back up at him again, reaching to brush away his overgrown fringe from his eyes.

‘’Such a good, pretty boy.’’

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Traumtänzer (Pt. 2)

Rated T

German Translations:

Mein Gott - My God

Der Herr de Ringe - The Lord of the Rings

Il Principe - The Prince

Part 1

Part 3

“So… He went back in time to meet up with a woman he kissed once and who was happily married with children?” You asked skeptically. That didn’t sound like the Steven you’d known. But then again, you hadn’t known him all that well.

“It’s confusing, but that’s the gist of it,” Sam interjected, taking a sip of his tea. The four of you were getting cozy in your living room, though it was a bit small. Sam and James shared the couch and you and the Baron found yourselves in arm chairs.

“Why are you so willing to stick your neck out for him?” James asked, looking for more information.

“He,” you paused. How much should you say? “He helped me out when I had nothing,” you shrugged and looked down into your empty teacup. Chamomile had always been a favorite of yours.

“That explains why you owe him a favor, but you’re really going out of your way. You know we’re harboring a criminal,” James nodded towards the Baron. You squinted your eyes at him, wondering if he could be trusted.

“He kept my secret… He found out my background and he didn’t turn me over to the authorities or insist I go get tested on,” you could tell you’d piqued their attention with that one. It was true, what you’d been thinking before. You didn’t tell anyone about your background, but Wanda had seen you and told Steven, and he helped you get off the grid. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don’t,” the Baron finally spoke up. “But we’re not in a place to be helping SHIELD out considering the circumstances, so we have no real reason to turn you over.” You accepted his answer with a frown. It wasn’t a lot but he was right.

“I knew the Maximoffs when they worked for HYDRA because my parents were secretly HYDRA agents,” you looked down into the teacup again, fighting the tensing of your muscles and the urge to run. “They sent me in to be experimented on by the-” You lost the word for scepter. Damn it all. “The thing, you know.” You rolled your eyes and growled, swearing in Sokovian. The Baron smirked at that. “ The scepter, god what’s the fucking word,” you mumbled in Sokovian. You knew James and Sam wouldn’t understand but the Baron was Sokovian and should be helping you out. “ Help a girl out,” you pleaded in Sokovian, and you could tell he was holding back a laugh.

“The scepter?” He added in English.

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “They experimented on me with the scepter!” You were so excited to have found the correct word, you didn’t notice the silence or meaningful glances James and Sam sent each other. “So I got some cool powers, they ran a lot of tests, terrible time,” You continued quickly, wanting to get this part over with. “Steven knew this, and helped me get off the grid. I owe him more than a favor, I owe him my freedom, my life,” you said emphatically.

“So you’re HYDRA?” James asked, tensing up. You glared over at him.

“I do not associate myself with Nazis, James,” you were cold, but this was a tough topic. “I was forcibly experimented on for years, and you think I would willingly associate myself with them? You should know better.”

He had the self-awareness to look a little ashamed, though you couldn’t care less. You didn’t need his shame or his pity.

After a brief pause, you sighed. “You can stay here for a little bit. Where are you going next?”

“Madripoor,” the Baron answered smoothly, and you choked on your own spit.

“ Mein Gott,” you mumbled. “Why on Earth would you want to go there?”

“We have business there,” he said, noncommittal. You raised your eyebrows, so it was top secret. Interesting. You stared at each other for a moment, unsure where your next words would lead you. You didn’t want to push too far but your curiosity was burning.

“I suppose I will prepare dinner,” you finally said after losing a staring contest with a criminal.

It was an uneventful night. You prepared food and you all ate in silence. It was only later when you were sitting in the living room reading Der Herr der Ringe that things got weird. James was sharpening a knife while Sam fiddled with some electronics. The Baron was reading your copy of Il Principe quietly.

“ What is your superpower, then? Wanda has her mind tricks and Pietro had his speed,” the Baron was speaking in quiet Sokovian, though he didn’t even glance up from his book. You noticed James side-eye him, but he left it for the moment.

“ I hardly think I should tell you,” you huffed. He raised a single eyebrow, still looking down at the book.

“ Indulge a poor curious man,” he finally looked up and caught you in his gaze. You felt pulled towards him, like his fluent Sokovian was a homing beacon and you just wanted to be near him. It was dangerous, but you hadn’t spoken Sokovian in ages, nobody here knew it and it was becoming a dead language.

“ They called me a dreamwalker,” you whispered in your native language. “ I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you frowned at yourself. You couldn’t trust him. But he was right, who was he going to tell? Alerting the authorities to you would also alert the authorities to him. You kept eye contact with him this time, tilting your head.

“ Tell me, Maus. How does dreamwalking work?”

“ I-”

“English please,” Sam groaned. You pursed your lips and made a quick decision to lie to him. He would have no such issues alerting the authorities. He was an Avenger.

“I was simply telling the Baron about my book. Der Herr der Ringe. The Lord of the Rings,” you replied smoothly.

“What’s so interesting about it?” James asked, this time genuinely curious. Though what was more curious was the small smile the Baron was giving you. You felt your cheeks burn at the attention and tried to hide it by glancing back down at your book.

“It’s the follow on to The Hobbit and follows the third age of Middle Earth,” you began, but James’ jaw had dropped.

“There was a sequel to the Hobbit and you didn’t tell me,” he glared at Sam, who only raised his hands placatingly.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were so into fantasy,” Sam raised his eyebrows.

“It’s actually three books,” you added. “Not just a sequel.”

“Oh man,” James shook his head. “I have been missing out. Is Gandalf still in it?”

You nodded, smiling. The previous topic was forgotten, you started telling him about the movies and how they helped you learn English.

All throughout the evening though, the Baron was glancing at you, trying to figure you out. You were sure he was curious about your powers, though you were sort of afraid to tell him. At the same time… It would be such a relief to talk to somebody about it.

You retired early after setting up the pull out couch and allowing the three men to figure out where they would sleep. They agreed that Sam and James would share the couch and the Baron would take the single bed in the guest room. Their explanation was that they’d be closest to the door if he tried to escape. You couldn’t sleep though, images from your past running through your mind.

It was nearing four when you simply decided to get up, make some tea, grab your book, and return to your room.

However, when you got to the kitchen, the Baron was sitting quietly at the table in the dark sipping on some tea.

“ Good morning,” you whispered in Sokovian, trying not to wake the men in the next room over. The Baron tilted his head towards you and smiled softly, the dark shadowed his face but you could see his features fine. You’d always preferred the night time and the darkness that came with it.

“ Couldn’t sleep? ” He replied in the same language. It must be nice for him to be able to speak it again, just like it was for her.

“ No,” you sighed. “ My mind was racing. And on top of that I’m not used to having guests.”

“You’re uncomfortable being vulnerable around us?” He asked softly, but you shook your head.

“ That’s not it.  I don’t want to accidentally walk into one of your dreams. I’m out of practice.”

He nodded sagely, it would make sense. You seemed like a polite girl and you likely wouldn’t want to intrude.

“ Tea? I made extra,” he gestured towards the teapot where steam was still rising and you smiled, smelling the chamomile.

“ Thank you,” you murmured and poured yourself a cup before sitting down at the table with him. “ You couldn’t sleep either?”

“Too much to do and plan,” he replied with a shrug of one shoulder. “ Will you tell me about your powers?”

You sighed, resigned, and nodded.

“ I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I can walk through dreams and change them. It works for daydreams too, when people are in ‘the zone,’”  you explained. “ Though it’s harder then, when people are awake.”

I can also project my thoughts into other people’s minds you spoke this time directly in his head and his eyebrows shot up.

I haven’t figured out how to read minds per se, but I’m hoping I can learn.

“ Fascinating. Absolutely sensational,” you blinked and blushed at the praise, hoping he wouldn’t notice in the dark room. “ You’re incredible, Maus. Is there anything you can’t do?” He chuckled and you ducked your head, looking up at him through your lashes with a small smile. “ Oh, that’s not all, is it?” He wondered, a slow smile spreading on his face when you nodded your agreement.

“ It’s new… I have only developed it since my time in this flat. But just as I can project my thoughts, I can project my body. Sort of like teleporting,”  you murmured, smiling again when he looked at you, astounded.

“ You truly are wonderful,” he praised you again, this time noting your reaction. You spoke with him for a little while after that about the places you’d teleported to, but you found you’d drifted off when you ‘awoke’ in the dreamscape.

It looked like a forest, this place that your mind conjured. In the forest were many trees and shrubs but also little glimmering puddles. Those were the dreams. You walked as if in a trance, sometimes you had no control in the dreamscape. The puddle nearest to you was dark and murky, you were frightened and your chest tightened up, but you couldn’t hold back as you dipped your toes in and were immersed in the dream.

It was dark. It was always dark at first. But then there was a light and a voice.

You searched and walked around, looking for it, but you regretted entering this… this… this nightmare.

It was James as the Winter Soldier on a dark, cold night. You watched the scene as if in slow motion, and screamed as he killed his friend and his wife.

He jerked back to look at you, noticing you for the first time, and stalked towards you.

“You’re next,” he growled at you, but you scrambled backwards, trying to find your way out of the dream. You tried to conjure something to snap him out of it. You could usually do whatever you wanted, so you changed the scenery. You were on a hot beach, white sand beneath our bare feet, and the Winter Soldier kept stalking towards you.

“Let me out!” you screamed at him. “Let me out!”

You gasped and fell from your chair, and the Baron shot up to catch you.

“ Maus? Are you alright?” his arms were warm around you as you shook off the last of the terror. You were afraid of dying in a dream. You weren’t sure if you’d wake up.

“What the fuck?” James growled from the door frame, rumpled and angry.

“I am sorry,” you choked out. “I did not mean-”

“Stay out of my head,” he cut you off and retreated to the couch, where Sam sat, confused.

“ You might want to stay out of his dreams,” the Baron whispered, arms still caging you in, but you appreciated the strength as tears pricked at your eyes. You hated when people raised their voices.

“ I can’t always control it. I couldn’t get out,” you choked on the words. You huffed a ragged breath and righted yourself, finally pulling away from the Baron. “ I’ll start breakfast,” you mumbled and turned away from him so he couldn’t see the few tears you allowed to fall from fear and apprehension.

Masterlist

[shhh-no-ones-home]

another one down Helmut Zemo x reader x Bucky Barnes

+++++++++ Mostly Zemo but ends with Bucky, if you read it you'll see what I mean lol

Song: control freak by doll skin

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

The safe house was a beautiful sight to behold. It was minimalist but very lavish, something that absolutely screamed Helmut Zemo. From the colors used in the paintings on the walls to the furnishings placed ever so carefully around the large room. Even for just a safe house, not a intended, livable, home; everything seemed so meticulous and thought out.

"Do you like it?"

The baron inquired, motioning his hand for me to sit on the plush couch. I of course would be lying if I said I didn't. It was much nicer than any place I'd ever had the pleasure of staying, apart from maybe the compound but even that didn't have the same spark that this did. I couldn't help but gawk at the grand estate he'd lead us to stay in.

"It is nice, that's for sure."

I confessed, trying not boost his ego but catching the smug look on his face as he watched me sit. Another thing I'd noticed about him. Every move I made since I'd met them in Madripoor seemed to catch his eye, and then some. Not only did he carry himself with stature, he made sure he was always one step ahead, knowing you better than you knew yourself. Part of me wondered if he knew I found him attractive. The other part wanted me to stop thinking about it.

"I've seen better."

Bucky said slyly, pouring himself a drink. His whole body looked tense, angry even, like he was trying with every fiber in his being not to kill the man standing in front of me. And who knew, maybe he was.

"Sure you have."

I barely caught as Zemo mumbled under his breath. I glanced between the two of them. Bucky was staring daggers through the baron and his jaw was visibly tightening.

"What's the point of all this stuff anyways if it just sits around doing nothing?"

Buck grumbled, clearly annoyed. Similar to me Sam just sat and watched the little quarrel at hand.

"Usually it would not just be sitting around. But in case you forgot I've been a little busy elsewhere."

Zemo was stepping further and further away from me, seemingly challenging Bucky with every step he made.

"Back in my day you only needed one place to call home."

Bucky stepped closer. They were almost chest to chest.

"Back in your day-"

"This is not a pissing contest boys."

I interrupted, Sam sending me a look as I stood and walked to them. I looked between them both. Bucky was all but seething; and I'm sure it didn't help that Zemo looked as cool as ever, barely worked up or even irritated.

"I don't care what the two of you have to do to get through this but it had better happen sooner rather than later, because if I have to listen to you two bicker like an old married couple for five more minutes I am absolutely going to lose it. And I don't think any of us want that."

It came out a little more stern than I had intended but they knew exactly what I meant. My powers sort of permitted that, but of the three of them Bucky was the only one who'd ever seen it happen. Not to mention the only one who'd ever been able to come near me enough to calm me down.

"How about we all just get something to eat and go to our respective rooms for the night. Not another word nor topic need be talked about."

The suggestion didn't go unnoticed as Bucky side eyed me, looking to Sam sat at the table watching this play out in silence.

"I think that's the best idea you've had all day."

°°°°°°°°°

After dinner we were shown to different rooms upstairs. It was all just as elegant as the rest of the house but the thing I was most excited about was the large bed taking up the majority of the space I was in. The only thing that would've made it more perfect was if Bucky could manage to sneak his way in here and fall asleep in my arms like he did back home. Not that we were a thing, but we found comfort in each other, so often times he spent the night at my place. After the first couple times we realized how stupid it was to not stay in the same bed together and here recently that had become the new norm. That is until he left to take care of the Karli situation.

It didn't matter though, because we were back together again. Well, sort of. But even here I felt betrayed by my own body. Usually I thought solely about Bucky. He was my person whether I wanted to admit it or not, even if we'd never gone on a proper date or called it what it really was. But despite that, and despite myself, I was yearning. And I felt guilty about it because now I was doing something that felt worthy of guilt. I shouldn't be thinking about the baron the way I was that's for sure. God I needed to go to bed, to shower, to do anything that made me stop thinking about it. But then there was a knock at the door. My brows knitted together in confusion as I opened it, just the person I didn't want to see.

"I wanted to come make sure you were comfortable with your accommodations."

Helmut said, his hands clasped behind his back as he stood tall and stoic in front of me.

"Yes, thank you."

He nodded once, turning his body away from me like he was preparing to leave.

"Is there anything I could get for you before you turn in for the night?"

He asked and it hit me, the shame of wanting him to come in.

"Actually, would you mind showing me how the shower works, I would hate to accidently break it."

I let out a nervous laugh, one he rivaled with a toothy grin as I let him into my room.

"It would be my pleasure."

He sang, following me slowly to the bathroom. Once there he sat at the edge of the tub and looked up at me, a small smile now playing on his lips.

"You know, you seem to be a complicated little thing."

I drew my brows.

"How so?"

He shrugged, reaching over and turning the faucet on the right.

"Hot here, cold here, shower plug."

He instructed before turning it back off and standing up. I watched as he walked back out into the room and before he could leave I caught his arm.

"Wait."

I said quickly. I needed something answered.

"Please tell me what you mean. I've heard about you and I need to know why it's me that escapes you."

I confessed almost desperately.

"Of the heroes you are the one with the least information, no background, no comprised list of powers, and no track record. Apart from James' apparent desire to please you, you don't have a tether to anything or anyone. I admire that about you."

God the blood should not be rushing to the places that it is. he spoke so smoothly it was like my brain stopped working. But despite that, there was one thing that caught my attention.

"You think Bucky aims to please me?"

I asked almost embarrassed and he smirked at me.

"There are much better pleasures in this world than the ones he is offering you."

He said lowly, stepping closer and closing the gap between us. It took me a moment to realize but I'd been holding my breath as his gaze bore into my own.

"And what pleasures are those?"

It was quiet and reserved, and maybe a bit testing, though unintentional. The look he gave me following my statement told me everything I needed to know, but if I had any questions about it they were answered when he leaned down and kissed me gently. There was a pause at first, from both of us like he was waiting for me to pull away, but I didn't. When he realized that though he stepped closer, if that was even possible; one hand on my hip and the other placed gently at my jaw as he now kissed me with purpose.

Once again my brain stopped altogether and I couldn't focus on anything but him. My hands tailed slowly up his arms, one making its way into his hair and tugging lightly. The hum that escaped him made me smile before he pulled away. His eyes were darker now, a hunger behind them as he stared down at me.

"Pleasures you could never even imagine."

He recited, trailing his finger tips across my jaw. We were still in very close proximity and as I thought for a second to kiss him again it was like I was brought back to reality, pushing him away and covering my mouth with my hand.

"No."

I said, muffled, unbelieving myself and what I'd just done.

"I can't do this, not to him."

It came out a little more broken than i'd intended but then again that's kind of how it felt. He looked down, nodding once as he resumed the position I'd met him in, hands clasped behind his back.

"You have a commitment to him. I understand."

He said in a soft tone. I felt bad again but this time I couldn't quite tell why. It was like I was letting him down but he was right. I did have a commitment to Bucky, to be there for him like he was for me.

"He's the only one who understands me."

I croaked out, trying to find any other answers behind the barons eyes that I was right to feel the way I did.

"That could change."

He said matter-of-factly and suddenly the feeling in my gut changed.

"Maybe I don't want it to."

I snapped back, brows drawn in frustration that he would be so bold to suggest I pick him over Buck. I stepped to him, finger in his face as he walked backwards into the door.

"at the end of the day you'll be back behind bars. He has been nothing but amazing to me since we met, a true gentleman and a friend. That's not going to change just because you come along with your stupid fancy house and antique cars. He cares about me, and I him."

The rage behind my eyes must have told him all he needed to know after that, his hands in the air as he finally looked different than his usual cool self. I had to admit though that it was probably my powers coming through, when I got worked up or angry they had a tendency of showing up. But one thing we didn't need was me crushing him or his house into the ground. I shook the thought as I opened the door, motioning for him to leave. He stood in the doorway for a second though.

"It wouldn't matter anyway y/n, like you said, he cares about you."

When he looked to the side with a knowing glance my face dropped, watching in horror as he nodded.

"James."

He said, walking off and leaving me to my devices as Bucky came into view.

"So you don't mind that I don't have a fancy house and antique cars?"

I laughed out, a sound somewhere between angry and unbelieving, reaching for his hand and squeezing it lightly.

"Do you love me?"

I asked. There was a pause and I almost got worried, but the genuine smile that spread across his features tore that feeling away very quickly. He nodded before pulling me flush to him.

"I do."

He said and all my worries melted away. i couldnt believe id been so stupid.

"Do you?"

He asked, making me blush as I nodded back, snaking my arms around his neck.

"So frickin much."

"thats good, cause i was worried id lost you there for a second."

he confessed and i just closed my eyes, feeling him press his forehead to mine.

"you could never lose me."

i breathed against him, his lips ghosting over my own.

"promise?"

i bit my lip for only a second before crashing them into his, holding the back of his head in my hand as he held me tightly to him. when we pulled away i looked between his eyes, almost getting lost in them. i nodded slowly as he stared back down at me waiting for an answer.

"i promise."