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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

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Oh, The Lies You Tell - Bakugou Katsuki - pt. 2

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, trauma, abuse, betrayal, fluff, slice of life, smut, cursing, manipulation, possible spoilers, physical harm, 18+

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Ep. Warnings: fluff, childhood trauma, cursing, Bakugou kinda OOC, DADZAWA

Summary: More Bakugou x reader interaction! And Y/N’s first time training with the students and showing off her “quirk.” How will the students react?

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

Once you saw the familiar blonde, you smiled. “.....hey back, cutie.” You said with confidence. Bakugou only blushed at the comment and sucked his teeth as he rolled his eyes.

“Soo...you’re my escort?” You flirtatiously asked. You can’t help it, it’s just your personality. Plus, after years of villainous work, you had to learn how to speak with a calm and seductive voice to get your way with your victims.

“Yeah, that means I’m stuck with your dumbass for the next few months. So try to keep up and don’t you dare hold me back.” He ferociously said. You just giggled and went to mess with his unbuttoned shirt collar.

“Whatever you say, Fiesty,” as you examined his clothes, you just had to speak up again. “Whattup with the clothes? No tie, no tuck, no....prestigiousness?” Bakugou scoffed at your question.

“Oh yea? Like you’re one to talk. You completely changed your uniform. You realize the girls in UA don’t dress this-“ you cut him off.

“What? Rebellious?”

“I was gonna say hot.”

“That works too.”

“Suits you real well.”

“Oh, I bet it does,” you smirked. During your time throwing spitfire replies to one another, you realized how close both your faces have gotten. You saw ruby eyes, perfect porcelain skin with the perfect amount of tan, soft but fluffy, spiky, blonde hair, and a smirk that copied your own. As Bakugou was too busy admiring your looks, you gently placed two fingers under his chin.....and flicked his head upwards at the sky.

“Hehe...let’s go, Cutie. You gotta show me my dorm, remember? Cant stand here forever staring at me.” You chuckled to yourself.

“I was not doing any of that shitty woman!” Bakugou yelled. As Bakugou did that, Rumor ran right across him making his balance go all outta wack.

“Heh..yeah, sure.” You said as you walked off with Rumor, petting his head. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

——————————————————————————

On the walk to the dorms, you and Bakugou got to know each other quite well. Just the basics though. Favorite music, favorite foods, personality types, likes and dislikes, all that good stuff. You also both shared a little flirtatious banter, not that you minded, however it threw Bakugou off. When the fuck does he ever talk like that? As you both walked up to the entrance you realized something.

“Hey, you never asked me about my quirk. How come?” You asked as you both continued to walk to the doors.

“Don’t need to. I’ll see all I have to see tomorrow during training.” Bakugou said.

“Makes sense.” You replied.

“Of course it does,” He said as he opened the doors to give you a tour. You were in awe. Growing up, you never really had a home before the league. You slept in benches, jail cells, or straight on the ground outside in the rain. But this? Basically luxury to you, but of course you kept up a chill persona.

“This is the common area, kitchens over there, everyone gets their own bathrooms, the showers are that way, and I’ll show you to your dorm,” Bakugou said, giving you the “grand” tour. As you walked up to your room, you saw how already filled it was...but this wasn’t any of your stuff.

“Didn’t realize you were into music like that.” Bakugou said. When you turned to look at your desk, you saw how large it was and how there was a control panel they used at recording studios on it. Set up with it was a microphone that artist used when recording their songs and there was a mini keyboard and acoustic guitar set up on the side. Then it hit you. You had gone over your interest with Mr. Aizawa, guess he filled up the room to make you more comfortable OR to make it seem like you were a normal kid who actually had stuff. In reality, you had nothing but your villain costume (which you demanded to be kept) and Rumor.

“Umm...not really. I just sing a little and enjoy writing little songs. Nothing special really,” you replied to him. “Uh, could you give me a sec? I wanna change out of this uniform and relax a little.” You said to him.

“Yeah, sure. Dinner starts at 6 so be down by then and come meet the rest of the morons.” He said as he backed out the room and walked on to wherever. You began to explore the room. Rumor took comfort on the soft bed, and you looked at the recording area. It was amazing. You strummed the guitar, taking in it’s beautiful sound and dabbled on the keyboard. You then realized.

“Rumor! What am I gonna change in to?! I literally have nothing!” You said as you ran to your closet, astound when you saw the large amount of clothes, along with a little sticky note.

Enjoy the gift, Y/N! Cant wait to have you in class!

- Ms. Midnight

“Midnight, huh? Then these clothes must be hot as fuck!” You excitedly said. Safe to say you put on a little fashion show for yourself and Rumor. As you put on the clothes and made new outfits, you noticed how she had gone for the typical “baddie style.” Lots of ripped jeans, plenty of casual heels, thigh high boots, leather jackets, bomber jackets, crop tops, tube tops, and of course booty shorts. You also noticed the massive amount of jewelry given to you. Plenty of necklaces and anklets. Very pretty.

Once done with your little show, you and Rumor looked at the clock. 5:30.

“I think we should stay in here. Who needs dinner anyways?” Rumor only growled at you. He knew better. You both needed food and you should go down there and make some friends.

“Oh c’mon! We’ve gone days without food before, why not now?” You saw how Rumor gave you this look of ‘because it wasn’t available then’ and you rolled your eyes knowing your friend was right.

“Fineeeeeee,” you reluctantly said as Rumor gave a happy bark and wagged his tail. You changed into some comfortable clothes and went to the common area.

When walking down there, you saw a spikey read head, a tall black haired boy, a girl with long greenish hair, and then you saw Deku, Kaminari, Uraraka, Todoroki, and Bakugou. While they were talking, the red head took notice of yours and Rumor’s presence.

“Oh! Hey L/N! Rumor! Come join us!” How sweet of him to include Rumor. As you both walked towards a single open seat on a solo couch seat, you saw how everyone had their eyes set on you with a smile.

“Umm....hey.” You nervously let out with a small laugh. As you tried to settle, Rumor placed his head on your lap to calm you down and Bakugou took notice of this.

“Would you idiots stop staring at her like that? She’s obviously kinda nervous.” Bakugou said with his head thrown back on the couch. The red head then spoke up to agree.

“Oh right! Sorry about that L/N!” He said kindly.

“No, it’s no trouble. And you guys can quit the formalities and just call me Y/N. I don’t mind!” You sweetly said.

“Alright then, nice to meet you Y/N! I’m Eijirou Kirishima, this is Hanta Sero, and Tsuyu Asui. I’ve heard you already met these guys, and I’ve also heard you got Bakugou as your escort!” Bakugou growled at Kirishima for mentioning that.

“Yeah! He’s kinda.....bratty?” You teased. Bakugou only looked at you with wide angry eyes and a small blush.

“Ha, yeah. Bakubro can be a brute, but when you get to know the guy, you find out he’s just a big ole softie with rough ways.” He joked.

“I AIN’T SOFT SHITTY HAIR!” Bakugou screamed. The group just giggled and watch the interaction go on. You guys talked and laughed and they got to know about you and Rumor a little better. Finally, a girl with a black ponytail came in.

“Hey guys! Dinner’s ready! Oh! And L/N, we made 2 steaks for Rumor. I hope you don’t mind.” She said.

“Oh not at all! Thanks you guys, that was really sweet of you.” Rumor understood what was going on just by the scent in the air and he was excited. As you all walked to the table and took ur seats, everyone got to talking again. Dinner went on and Rumor was enjoying his steaks.

“Man..what a lucky dog. Steak for dinner.” Kirishima spoke. Everyone chuckled and continued on. The girl with the pony tail, who you learned was nicknamed Momo, walked in with a final pot.

“Okay you guys! This is the final dish! Just some Miso soup to peck on. Kaminari, can you go and grab the ladel?” As the blonde walked away, everyone was excited for the dish.

“Sorry guys, the soup is a little too hot. You should wait for it to cool down before digging in,” Momo said apologetically.

“Oh hey, no worries, I have a solution!” You said as you made a tiny little tornado with you air bending and sent it to the pot of soup on the table to cool it down. The massive amount of steam was clearly decreased and everyone thanked you.

“So your quirk is tiny tornadoes?” Bakugou whispered to you as he was the one sitting next to you.

“No, you dummy.” You giggled until you heard a crack. Everyone looked over and saw Kaminari broke the one and only ladel. Everyone booed and sighed at the loss of miso soup and the poor blonde just apologized with a nervous smile.

“It’s fine you guys, we don’t need a ladel. Who wants some miso?” You asked and everyone raised their hands. So, you used your water bending to pick up the soup give some to all your classmates. Everyone was confused but impressed.

“Okay, what the hell is your quirk?” Bakugou asked in confusion.

“You’ll find out soon, Cutie.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He replied back.

It was safe to say the new nickname left you in shock with some blush and you noticed everyone stopped eating to look at you both.

“........huh?!” The group simultaneously said with blank and confused faces as Bakugou yelled at them saying they heard nothing.

——————————————————————————

The next day the students met up with Mr. Aizawa wearing any comfortable gym/fighting attire. Instead of meeting at Gym Gamma, the teacher took his students out to the Sports Festival Areana. The students all buzzed with excitement, most only wanting to know the new student’s quirk and fight style.

“Okay, today we’ll be doing sparring matches. We’ve paired you all up based on skill level and experience. One battle at a time. Whoever makes it to the top 3, those students are excused from classes tomorrow. Get warmed up, take your seats, and I’ll call up the first two fighters.” Mr. Aizawa spoke.

The students were ready. Everyone was, but no one was prepared for you. They never saw your fight style, never saw you use your quirk for battle, never even saw you pick a fight. This’ll be interesting.

“Okay bud, since it’s a 1v1, you’re benched.” You spoke to Rumor. He whined at the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any action but nonetheless, listened to his best friend. “Oh don’t give me that sass, why don’t you go talk to Kirishima or Bakugou while I’m in battle. Fair?” Rumor huffed at you, but you took it as compliance.

“Hey, Princess.”

You turned to who called you and saw Bakugou and what appeared to be his little posse following him. It consisted of Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, and Mina.

“Oh hey guys. What’s up?” You asked.

“We’re all pumped up to see your quirk! Those tricks you did during dinner last night had us all coming up with ideas on what it could be.” Mina squealed. “I guessed substance manipulation.”

“Telekinesis,” Kirishima said

“Weather powers,” Sero guessed

“Food control!” Kaminari answered. Oh what a piece of work that one is. Everyone looked at the fool with raised brows.

“Heh...guess not.” The goofy boy said with a scratch to his head. You all laughed and you looked towards Bakugou waiting for him to answer.

“Well..what’s your guess, Cutie?” You looked towards Bakugou as he just stared at you.

“Elements,” he said calmly. That shocked you. Who knew someone was gonna guess. Well, he was still wrong considering it wasn’t really a quirk but yeah.

“Just a guess. I’ll figure it out once I see you fight.” He added on.

“Oh yeah! Mr. Aizawa pairs us up based on skill level and experience! We’ll get to know more about how you fight based on your partner.” Mina said.

As the group continued talking, Mr. Aizawa finally came to speak up.

“Okay, listen up. I’m sure you’re all curious as to what L/N is able to do, so our first match we’ll be L/N vs. Todoroki.” Everyone had their jaws drop. Shoto Todoroki?!? He was one of the top students in the class in both intelligence and physical skill. He is an excellent fight with a powerful quirk. How the hell are you supposed to win. You only smirked and walked up to the fighting area. As you walked, a pair of red eyes followed you.

‘What the hell can this chick do?’ Bakugou thought to himself.

As you and Todoroki met in the middle facing each other with Mr. Aizawa in between you both, he spoke up.

“Okay, here are the rules......there are none. The match will begin when you hear the buzzer go off. You’ll hear 3 beeps then a ring, then you can spar. You can use your quirk at any level, do whatever you may please, do whatever it takes to win. The match stops when one of you falls off the square or is knocked out and unable to continue fighting. Understand?” He said while looking at both of you and speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. You both nodded your heads but Mr. Aizawa looked at you with a more stern stare.

“Do you understand, Y/N?” He asked once more. You nodded your head and waited for him to start the match. He walked off the field and went to sit with the class. They all stared in anticipation. Bakugou focused his eyes on you.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Ring!

At the first second, Todoroki used his left side to throw some fire your way. At the sight of the burning flames you only smirked and extended your hand. Everyone watched you do, what they thought was, nothing. They only saw you stand there.

“Y/N DO SOMETHING!” Bakugou screamed in fear of you getting hurt.

When the flames came close enough, you used your fire bending to move them around your body and attack Todoroki. The boy had a quick reaction and sent an ice wall towards you. Perfect. You ran to the ice coming your way and turned it into water, which you used to push back Todoroki, closer to the edge. You sent fire his way and he ran at you, dodging it and attempting to strike you. You flipped away from him. Everyone saw how acrobatic you were. When he came closer once more to punch you, you turned to you side and struck his right shoulder, paralyzing his arm.

Todoroki screamed in shock and pain as he realized he couldn’t feel his arm. He sent more fire to you, in which you used your air bending to put the flames out. You used your earth bending to lift the area that Todoroki was standing on into the air, as he flew through the air, you blasted fire from your feet to get up in the air and blasted him with a gust of wind that knocked him out the area of the square. When he fell to the ground, he hit the field instead of the square, meaning he lost. You fell closer to the concrete but used your fire to slow down before you could crash. Once you landed you looked around for Aizawa.

Beeeeeeeepppppp!!

“That’s the match. L/N wins.” You looked around and everyone still sat in shock. Nobody even clapped. They just looked so....impressed? Kaminari was in the middle of petting Rumor and when he stopped, Rumor noticed the match was over and saw you standing. He howled to cheer for you as everyone ran down to say something. As the crowd came up to you, you were hit with compliments.

As the class continued to hype you up, you saw how Bakugou still just stared at you. You walked over to him.

“Impressed?” You asked.

“......you’re good.” Bakugou still said in slight shock. You only laughed at his answer. You knew he thought more, but you weren’t gonna push him. Every one saw Todoroki get up and limp towards you.

“L/N....that was a great fight. You’re incredibly skilled.” He complimented.

“Thank you Todoroki. And please, I told you to call me Y/N.” You kindly said

“Right, of course...ah.” He hissed in pain. You felt bad for how hard you went on him.

“Here..let me just,” you took the moisture in the air and took water out of it. You used it to heal up Todoroki’s injuries and soothe his pain. “Feel better?”

“Very much, yes. Thank you.” He said.

“No problem, but your arm is a different story. I temporarily paralyzed it with my dim mak fighting style. It’ll take some minutes for it to come back fully.” You explained.

“Okay. That was really impressive. I had no idea there was a fighter like you.” He said once again.

“Whats dim mak?” Kirishima asked.

“It’s the fighting style I use. It’s attacks a person’s pressure points with quick and sharp jabs. It paralyzes a person or just a limb for a good hour depending on how hard I hit.” You replied.

“Pressure points?” Kaminari asked.

“They’re the parts in your body where you’re sensitive and can be detained when they’re hit. With that, it means I know the human body like the back of my hand. Thanks to that I’ve come up with a skill called Chi Blocking.” You explained.

“What’s that?” Mina asked.

“Something you’ll all find out about the next time Y/N fights. Until then, let’s have Todoroki get to recovery girl and let’s continue the matches.” Aizawa said. As everyone went to their seat and Aizawa called up Iida and Aoyama, Bakugou asked you a few questions.

“What the fuck was that?!” He asked.

“What?” You giggled.

“The fucking fire, and the wind, and you moved rocks and you turned his ice into water!!” He spasmed out.

“Uh huh...” you said with a smile and raised brow.

“A-and the flips! You flip and did a bunch of acrobatic tricks, and the jabs, the “dim mak,” it was- I was- it was-.......HUH” he exclaimed.

“Not like Bakugou to freak out over a fight like that. What happened to Mr. Cool Guy?” Denki said.

“You shut your mouth, Sparky!” Bakugou threatened. “Look, all I’m tryna ask is..how and when did you learn all of this? Your quirk is crazy OP, and your fighter skill is insane! Appreciate that bullshit cuz I don’t say shit like that often.”

You just laughed and sighed. You weren’t sure how to answer his question. “Umm,” you started “I don’t really know...I just-“ you were cut off by a mouse. Principle Nezu, you remembered him.

“Mr. Aizawa?” The peppy mouse asked.

“Yes?” Aizawa replied.

“May I speak with you? Concerning your new student and her transfers. There’s been a few complications with her paperwork that need to be solved.” He politely asked.

“Yes, I understand sir. Class, free day. Head back to your dorms but be sure to get in an hour and a half of training today. That’ll be all. Dismissed.” The pro said as he followed the principle. As students gathered to leave and head back to the dormitory, Bakugou stopped you.

“Hey, wait. You still gotta tell me how you learned all this, Princess.” He said.

“What’s there to say?” You awkwardly laughed out. “Uh..I discovered my...quirk.. while doing some work-“

“Work as a child?” Bakugou asked.

“Sorta. I discovered it there and then..I met someone who trained me how to fight like that.” You explained.

“Your parents must be really proud.” Bakugou slightly smiled.

“Umm..yeah, I bet they are.” You said kind of skiddish.

“I can imagine the look on their faces when they saw the pretty impressive quirk you got. My parents were pretty shocked too with mine.” He added on.

“Oh really? You can imagine their faces?” You laughed out nervously. ‘I sure can’t,’ you thought to yourself.

“I mean yeah. Parents usually....” you drowned him out. Parents...parents...parents...PARENTS. You snapped.

“Bakugou!” You said with tone. “I don’t have or know my parents....” you said as he stopped talking and dropped his jaw to the ground. Before he could say anything, you bit your lips, called Rumor to go, and left, leaving Bakugou in regret.

As you ran with slight tears in your eyes, you told Rumor to change into a giant wolf. He shifted and you hopped on him.

“Let’s go to the spot, Rumor.” You said as he took off.

——————————————————————————

When Rumor arrived at ‘The Spot’ you settled. The spot was beautiful. Tall trees, beautiful plants, plenty of adorable creatures, and a gorgeous pond right in the middle of it all. You layed against a tree as Rumor placed you down so you could stop your tears and he transformed back into his wolf-dog form and cuddled up against you.

“No parents...” you said aloud. Although sad you never really got to experience or meet your parents or what it’s like to have them or a family, you were conflicted. Yes it was sad not having parents or a family, but you never had one so it’s hard to tell how you feel about the topic. As the thoughts ran through your mind, your eyes glowed a bright white and when you opened them, you weren’t at the spot anymore.

“Hello....?” You said as you looked around. “Helloooo...?? Anyone there?”

“Welcome back to the spirit world, Y/N.” When you turned to your side, you were in awe.

“Avatar Korra!” You bowed to show respect but then went to hug your spiritual mentor. She embraced you with wide arms. She’s always been the friendly, open, optimistic type. “What am I doing here, Korra?”

“Why do you think you’re here, Y/N?” She said with a sly smile and hands on her hips, but beaming eyes.

“My parents?” You questioned but she only shook her head.

“Your path.” Korra stated.

“My path?” You asked.

“Yes. Or more so, the path you choose.” She corrected.

“I don’t understand.” You said.

As Korra continued to smile at you, you both stood still as the world shifted. You looked around and saw the LOV hideout.

“The league? I don’t understand, what does my path have to do with them?” You questioned, but before she said anything, the world shifted once more and you were infront of UA’s building.

“The school?....Oh, this isn’t some typa light and dark thing, is it?” You asked Korra.

“It is.” She replied back.

“Ugghhhh, we’ve been through this. I’m a bad person. I could never fit in with those goodie two shoes! I’m a member of the league of villains! Not heroes. My path is the darkness.” You stated.

“Is it? You weren’t born into darkness.” Korra said.

“What?....”

“Y/N, you’re not a bad person. Your a villain because of survival. That’s the life that you know. That’s the life that you were kidnapped into.” Korra began.

“Yeah but-“

“But nothing. You know in your heart you would much rather be a hero than some low life villain!” Korra exclaimed.

“No I couldn’t. They’re too good. I could never be that great. Hell, I’m on a plan to take down UA right now!” You said.

“And are you doing that because you want to? Or is it because you think the league is gonna torture you any less if you succeed......you don’t wanna take down the heroes. You wanna be like them.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I can’t!”

“But you can. You can be all these amazing things, but you’re just on the wrong path with the wrong people. All you have to do is make the choice to leave them. You want to be good, Y/N. It’s in your nature. You’re the avatar after all. It’s your destiny to bring peace to the world.”

Once Korra had said that, a flash came and you were back in the spot. You gasped as you returned and shook your head. You saw it had gotten dark now and figured it was best if you headed back. You woke up Rumor and asked him to become a giant wolf again. He shifted and brought you back to UA. Along the walk, you couldn’t help but think back to what Korra said.

“My path......light or dark...” you looked down at your palms and squeezed them shut in frustration. You huffed and looked ahead, and saw you arrived at the front of the dorms. Standing there, waiting for you, Mr. Aizawa.

“Welcome back.” He said to you.

“Hi...” you blankly said as you attempted to get past him. However, he stopped you from going in.

“Not so fast, we need to speak first before anything else.” He stated

“What about? Because I’ve had a really long and kinda frustrating day, and I don’t need some bullshit to fuck it up even more. I mean, I’m so aggravated that I-“ a piece of paper dangling in your face shut you up.

“What are those?” You asked the hero.

“Adoption papers. I’m now your legal guardian.” Aizawa stated.

“.........HUHHHHH?!?!???” There was no way this was happening. It couldn’t be. You??? Adopted??? By a pro hero??? One that you almost killed???

“Okay, I’m sorry but I don’t need a guardian. I’ve been by myself, on my own, the second I was born. No family raised me, no motherly figure, no nothing. It’s just been me, the spirits, and the villain who took care of me till I was, what, 5? And then kicked me out and left me stranded. I’ve been surviving on my own for over a decade, I don’t need you to look out for me.” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I won’t be an annoying parent, I’m just your legal guardian. You’re still underage, meaning you’ll need permission for certain things to continue to move forward.” He explained to you. You thought about it, and damn it, he was right. If you wanted to go about this whole thing the legal way, you’d need this.

“.....Fine. Just don’t tell me what to do dAD,” you sarcastically said.

“I’m your guardian and teacher now, I can tell you whatever I want, brat. Now get inside, you’re past curfew.” He said but you only squinted your eyes at him in disbelief. Did he really give you a curfew?

“Student curfew. You live in the dorms, all students have to be in this building by 10:30,” he explained. You just scoffed and went inside with Rumor.

“Guess I have a dad now, Rumor.” You sighed. You never had a father before. It warmed your heart a little, but then you remembered he wasn’t really your dad. Just a guardian. As you walked into the common area, you saw the lights were out. The students must’ve been in their dorms. You walked to the kitchen to grab a snack before heading to bed but you saw Bakugou sitting there with a water bottle in hand. He seemed kinda bummed out. You cleared your voice to get his attention and when he looked up at you, you told Rumor to head to the room.

“Y-Y/N! Hey!..” he said to you.

“Heh..hi Bakugou...Umm..I’m sorry about the whole..running away thing. I just needed to clear my head a little.” You said as you took the seat next to him.

“No, don’t apologize. I’m.....i-.....I’m sorry for pushing you about the whole parent thing. I didn’t know.” He apologized. You only shook your head and stared at your hands before speaking up.

“It’s fine. How could you know? After all, I’ve only been here for 2 days. Besides, you didn’t really upset me, it’s just..I feel kinda outta place when the parent topic comes up. Guess I just freaked out,” you saw the look on his face. Disappointment. Is he that upset that hurt you? Or at least thought he did? “B-but don’t worry! I’m fine! For real! I’ve been parent-less for almost my entire life so it doesn’t sting like that. Hehe..wow Umm. Depressing. You know I feel like I’m rambling, am I rambling? Should I stop? I think I should shut up, or maybe I’m just gonna go now that I-“ Bakugou placed his hand on yours which shut you up real quick. You looked up at his face as he stared into your eyes.

“You can talk to me about it you know. It’s clear you wanna get some things off your chest and I’m really interested in you.” You raised your brow at that last sentence. He realized what he said and quickly tried to correct himself.

“I mean- uh- not like that, or um it could be like that! It could be, if you’re cool with that. But it’s not, or maybe, i don’t know, it’s not it’s, I was, it was, I- yeah I’m gonna stop talking now.” He cleared his throat at the end of that, settling down. You giggled and reassured him.

“No, no it’s fine. I really don’t mind. Umm, what do you wanna know. I’m fine with sharing anything.” You said.

“Okay, let’s just continue with this parent topic then....how were you raised?” He asked. This scared you. You had to be real careful with your choice of words or else your cover would be blown.

“Okay, let’s see. I was born in a place-“

“Oh really?” He teased.

“Shuddup,” you laughed and playfully hit his shoulder.

“And that place was..very private. Very unknown, but my parents Umm, i don’t really know what happened to them. The earliest thing I can remember is that..someone found me and told me my parents were gone, they weren’t my real family, they just took me in because they couldn’t let a baby die, and raised me till I was 5.” You said.

“And then?” He asked.

“You sure? It just goes down hill from here.” You warned. But he only nodded and asked for you to continue. You looked at your hands in your lap before continuing.

“I was kicked out. Left on the streets. I slept on park benches, in alleyway tunnels, on rooftops of buildings. I pawned for food and..” you didn’t know if you should admit the next part. But Bakugou held onto your hand and asked for more.

“And then?” He questioned.

“.....I did what I had to do to survive. I committed crimes, but I had to live. I was just a child and didn’t know what to do. If you look at me any different for what I did though, I won’t judge you.” You said. He squeezed your hand almost as if he was telling you he understood. He nodded and pleaded for more.

“After 2 years on the streets, a cult found me. An evil and dark cult. They used their quirks to torture people they kidnapped and made them slaves to create weapons. They kept us in cells and chains, working 24/7. It was there that I learned of my abilities. I found out I could control the 4 elements and their sub-elements. There, I also met a master. He was old and couldn’t fight anymore, but he saw the potential in me and taught me dim mak in the shadows. After a year of being enslaved there and secretly training, these people (the LOV) came in and killed the cult members and stole some of their weapons and destroyed the rest. Once I saw them taking down those horrible people, I used my abilities and they saw. I guess I impressed them and they recruited me to join their little family. I’ve been with them ever since. But then I met Mr. Aizawa and he asked me to join UA. Since the group I joined wasn’t really family, I didn’t need their permission. They were more like friends and they were even the ones who pushed me to come here.” You finished up your little story and saw Bakugou looked at you with worry in his eyes.

“And now I’m here! Sitting in a dim kitchen at UA with a cute boy at 11:00 p.m.” you said trying to cheer up the mood. “Bakugou...”

“You’re not..affected? By everything you’ve been through?”

“You don’t have to feel bad!”

“But I do! You’re here! You’re not...”

“Dead?” You teased.

“Basically!” You laughed at that.

“Y/N, I’m serious!” Bakugou tried to say.

“And so am I! You don’t have to be upset. I value everything I went through, all the good and bad.” You explained.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because it made me the kickass baddie that I am today!” You said flipping your hair and laughing. “Seriously though! Everything I went through made me who I am. It’s made me stronger, more independent. It lets me know I can handle myself. So I’m good, you don’t have to worry.” You said grabbing onto his hand again and reassuring him. He used his thumb to rub at your hand and enjoy the feeling.

“You are...probably the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He said calmly with a small SMALL smile on his face as he looked at you.

“I’ll also bet that I’m also the only “criminal” that you look like you wanna kiss.” You playfully said.

“Maybe I do...” he said with a smirk and soft voice as he leaned in closer.

“And maybe I’ll let you..” you said as you leaned in. As you two got closer and closer, your eyes filled with daze and the world around you two fell apart. It was just you and him in that moment. Until it was ruined. Just as your lips were about to touch, Mr. Aizawa came in.

“Hey!” He shouted

“GAH!” You both screamed and jumped away from each other with a blush adoring both your faces. Aizawa walked up to both of you, shoving the adoption papers in bakugou’s face.

“No smooching with my newly adopted daughter!” He said with a stern voice.

“I’m not your daughter! You’re just my guardian and it only happened like a few hours ago!” You stated.

“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t kiss, old man.” Bakugou said.

“Listen you little punk! I outta...” then Bakugou and your teacher were now going at it, yelling over each other and saying whatever, completely leaving you outta the conversation. You let out a little gust of wind to shut them up and get their attention.

“Okay, it’s late, tomorrow is Saturday, so you two won’t have to see each other, MAYBE, for 2 days. Can we just let this whole thing cool over?” You asked.

“We can, I’m just annoyed at the fact that this dynamite stick was gonna steal my daughter away from me!” Aizawa complained.

“I wasn’t stealing her, I was-“

“STOLEEEEEEE” Aizawa corrected and Bakugou just sucked his teeth and looked around.

“Whatever, can we just let it go?” You asked again. They nodded and you all went your separate way. Except for the fact that once Aizawa was outta sight, Bakugou went running right back to you and walked you to your dorm.

“Sooo..about that kiss.” Bakugou said. You just giggled and opened the door to your room.

“Goodnight, Bakugou,” you said but as you were about to walk in, he said something else.

“Katsuki.”

“Huh?” You said looking back at him.

“Katsuki. It’s my name. You can call me Katsuki.” He explained.

“Wow, trust me that much?” You teased.

“You trusted me enough to open up, this is the least I could do.” He said. You smiled and corrected yourself.

“Okay then...goodnight, Katsuki.” You said smiling. He pulled you in by your waists and held you close as he placed a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Goodnight, Princess.” He said and walked off.

A/N: Ok Cubs! That was the second part and in here we got to see the spirit world! We’re intorduced to Avatar Korra and we’ve discovered Y/N is the present avatar! How do we feel about this? Good? Bad? Let me know!!! I hope your enjoying the story so far. I know it’s kinda weird and all outta disorder but this is my personal day dream that I wanna bring to life that I’m hoping some of you enjoy. It’s just a jumble of avatar elements with a BNHA/MHA base. Please be patient with me! I know this is a Bakugou x Reader fic but it is also a story. It’s gonna grow and build and once we establish the basics, more Bakugou x Reader issues will show up along the way! I hope you’ve liked it so far! See you next time! 💗🧸

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bonny-kookoo · 4 years

Text

Pretty Girl (J.JK x Reader)🎀💜☁️🔞

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Warnings: (oh boy here we go on this one) good old sprinkle of angst, non-penetrative sex, foreplay, steamy make out session, mild DDLG themes, Dom/Sub dynamics, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Subspace, Teasing, Suggestive gestures, dirty talk, really, like JK can’t shut up smh, Koo is getting kinda rough with GG, sex in the kitchen twice (again), shower sex (pls stay safe), protected sex (again, we wrap it up in this economy and you should too), edging, cumplay, aftercare (a warning bc he’s so soft you might melt fam) yeah I think that’s it

Summary: an accident such as yours mainly affects you, that’s a fact. But people around you, especially Jungkook, may have been more unsettled by the events than he lets on.

Good Girl || Sweet Girl || Smart Girl || Brave Girl || Pretty Girl || Charming Girl

During your recovery, Jungkook had changed a bit. It was a slow process, yet you noticed the fine details in the way he would treat you a little differently. It wasn't a bad change in any way- you guessed it was just because of the shock he'd gotten after the accident, which was totally understandable. Your dynamic had always been quite cliche in a way, with his bad-boy persona and your gentle nature. He seemed like the big bad wolf while you were the red riding hood, innocent and emotional. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

So how exactly did things change? Well, he wouldn't leave you alone for starters. It wasn't like he didn't give you space or anything, but he was more.. needy in terms of skinship. Whenever he played video games for example, he'd sit you on his lap, have you sit in between his legs with your back against his chest, or simply your head on his thighs when you were taking a nap or reading on your phone. When you both slept he'd be more clingy towards you than before, always reaching out to either hold your hand or have an arm around your middle. He started to become almost dependent on your affection and attention, and it was cute, you admitted that; yet it also made you worry a bit. It has been a week since you had gotten your stitches removed, yet he still seemed on edge. You hoped it would dissolve over time, yet you told yourself to talk to him about it if it continued. Something was going on in his head, that much you knew, but what exactly it was you didn't.

Getting back from grocery shopping, you immediately went to take one of the bags out of Jungkooks' carrying hand, one which held the ingredients for todays dinner in it. Yet he raised it up, making you pout. "Ah-ah Babygirl, 'lemme unpack the other bag and then we'll cook." He said, and you nodded, a bit suspicious. His culinary skills weren't.. too impressive if you were being completely honest. He knew how to cook ramen in his sleep at this point, but that was pretty much it. He'd also never shown much interest in cooking before, happily watching you cook- and that was fine with you too. You always found cooking and baking almost therapeutic, making something giving you a feeling of success you would crave on days were you felt low.

Yet once he'd unpacked everything, putting all the items into their proper place, it got obvious that this time around, you wouldn't cook anything. Because just as you had started to get out a cutting board, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your middle, his nose brushing over the crook of your neck playfully. He slowly walked you away from where you were trying to work, and backed you up against the counter next to where you'd put the cutting board. "Jungkookie I gotta cook-" You whined, but he wasn't having it.

"Nop, come on. Up." He said, but his eyes didn't hold the usual impish spark they usually had whenever he had something different in mind. You complied, simply because it was an instinct at this point, and he grabbed your hips to help you sit on the counter. "Tell me what I need to do, and I'll cook." He said, already searching for a knife. You furrowed your brows at him.

"Jungkook you never cook." You questioned, leaning your head to the side to show your confusion. He chuckled at that, mumbling something about maybe needing to change that, when you were suddenly grabbing his wrist which held the knife, making his head snap to it in horror. He was about to say something when you moved the hand to cup his cheek. Now it was his turn to be confused. "What's really going on 'Koo?" You asked, and his tongue started to move against the inner lining of his cheek, pulling his lower lip between his teeth- a sign that he was clearly nervous. "Is it still because of what happened? I'm fine Kookie, really." You said, and he sighed, placing his larger hand on your thigh, thumb slowly running in circles over your skin. He did kind of looked like a kid getting lectured, yet it also showed you that you were hitting a nerve. "Don't get me wrong, I love how close you keep me these days, and I adore how gentle you are with me, but 'Koo.." you said, making him look at you. "You're not being yourself." You said, and he ran the hand that wasn't occupied through his hair.

"I actually don't know either." He grumbled, yet you knew he wasn't being too honest. Your gaze was still demanding, needing a proper answer, and he suddenly sat down at the kitchen table, head in his hands. You carefully jumped down the counter- well, not really jumping but sliding off with one foot reaching for the floor to balance you. The doctors told you getting the entire functionality of your legs back would take a while, and you still needed physiotherapy every week, but that didn't mean that you always took their advice. You usually got your ass smacked by karma personally though, as you would get punished with agonizing muscle cramps if you overdid it during the day. Jungkook would gently massage your legs if it happened, a worried and almost apologetic glint in his eyes whenever he did it, always the hero who wants to take the pain away- though he couldn't, and that made him feel helpless, useless even. He's still feeling guilty, yet he's also not talking about it, dancing around the topic as if he had to try and explain to his parents that he'd gotten someone pregnant on accident. It felt uncomfortable since he never truly had to stand up for his mistakes, and even now he technically didn't have to since it wasn't even his fault- but he felt like he did. "I'm having nightmares." He mumbled lowly, face still in his hands. You sat down next to him, unsure what to do.

You decided you would give him the same treatment whenever you had a nightmare back when you were younger; your mother a firm believer that these unpleasant dreams could only be resolved if you talked about them. "Tell me about them." You said, not asking like you usually would. He shook his head, taking a deep breath as if he would prepare himself to bury the pictures again until he'd eventually had to face them tonight again. He didn't tell you, but he never really slept an entire night ever since you'd gotten back from the hospital. He would wake up in a cold night's sweat, craving to turn the lights on like a frightened child in fear of not being awake yet, yet he only settled with shining his phone screen on your form, calming himself down by counting every breath you took, each one proof that you were okay, that you were just fine, that you were still beside him. "Koo please. I wanna help you.." You pleaded, a soft whine to your voice, slowly making cracks in his walls. You sat down on the floor next to his slightly turned chair, making him snap his gaze at you, wondering what you were doing. You simply placed your hands on his thigh, your chin resting on them to look up at him with puppy eyes. Maybe this would make him talk. He chuckled, patting his lap after scooting back a bit. You gladly sat down on his thigh, legs dangling between his, his arm resting around your middle, fingers playing nervously with the hem of your skirt.

"They're about you." He started, swallowing, eyes not meeting yours. You decided to just lay your head on his shoulder, hugging his chest and making it easier for him to talk by not looking at him. "It's either- like.. sometimes it's the moment I ran to you when.. when you were uh.. laying on the sidelines you know? But I can't.." He took a breath, now tightening his grip on the small part of fabric. "I can't get to you I just- you're-.. I can't get closer, all I see is that young dude trying to like, do something, this like- Urgh I don't remember the word for it like- this shit where you push onto your chest to keep your heart beating, you know, that stuff.." His voice is wavering a bit you start to notice. You simply nod into his neck, giving him a sign that you're listening. "It always ends with the ambulance arriving, and they- fuck.. they just put this trashbag shit over you and I- god. I.." His voice gets a bit higher, a sign that he's close to tears. Yet you let him go on. "The uhm.. the other one is, like.." He inhales deeply again, and you tighten your grip on him, making him let go of your skirt, but instead put both his arms around you. "I'm like, at a churche and, oh god, you're like, in a casket, I know it's you, but every time I want to look inside the fucking thing closes, like, slams onto my hands, and I wake up. Like when you dream of these weird staircases where you stumble you know and you like wake up instantly." He said, hand moving to gently run through your hair.

"Do you still feel guilty about it?" You asked softly, quietly, because you didn't need to be louder due to the amount of distance you both only had. He simply nodded his head, still looking down. You knew it wouldn't help him if you went on and on about how it wasn't his fault at all, how he had no say in things like that whatsoever, that no one had, because that was exactly what hurt him. Jungkook was a bit cliche when it came to things like these; he wanted and craved control, he needed it to ground himself, which may was the reason he felt so comfortable and good around you. You both fit together perfectly because of this, since you came from a family where independence was taught from a very early age, having a father who'd demanded you to move out as soon as you had turned 18, and a mother who showed you how to run a household when you were just a little girl. While he loved being in control, you craved to let go and be lead without having to fear to be used like you'd been before. Yet right now exactly this character trait of his was making him feel miserable. "That's fine." You finally said, making him hum, urging you to explain that statement. "It's okay that you feel bad, it's understandable." You mumbled, nuzzling the crook of his neck. "Wake me up next time please. You wake me up when you have nightmares, and I'll let you carry me around as much as you want-"

"Deal." He said with a smirk, happy that the tension was finally snapping and letting go, clearing the air around you both. He indeed felt a bit lighter now, as typical as it sounded. Yet you always knew what to say, and it felt good to talk about it, that was something he had to admit. "I love you." He blurted out, and he could practically feel your cheeks heat up against his skin. He chuckled, hand slowly creeping under your soft sweater, caressing your bare skin underneath until he could feel the edge of your bra. You knew what he was hinting at, by now familiar with his need to be close to you after moments like these. It was times like this when he felt most vulnerable yet also the most sensitive to things- like a nerve stripped bare of its fleshy armor. It may seemed odd, but it was his way of grounding himself again, giving his pride and overall confidence a restart after having him expose his feelings like this. You happily agreed, nosing at his neck before kissing, making him smile. His hand opened your bra with well practiced movements, before he slipped his hand underneath the cup, caressing your breast in a gentle gesture.

You moved around a bit, spreading your legs over his lap to dangle off his thighs, palms stopping your hands from moving your sweater over your head. "uh-uh baby, you're gonna get cold." He mumbled before leaning in to kiss your lips, immediately feeling a sense of euphoria he would've never thought he could feel from a gesture like this alone. You whined a bit, but he simply deepened the kiss, tongue demanding entrance you happily gave him. Your hips moved on their own, yet it was in vain with how far he'd your legs spread, not giving you any chance of friction. He loved how your hands moved to only grip the hem of his jeans, yet not going further- it wasn't that you didn't want to, oh hell you did- but recently, he'd started to give you certain rules. Just for fun of course, mostly his, but you had agreed to them, so it was your fault of you wanted to complain- which you certainly didn't. He loved how it just added to his ego, yet it also filled him with a sense of even more will to protect you. If that made sense. "Hm? What is it?" He mumbled between his kisses, eyes still closed, as well as yours. They only opened a fraction once you whined, mumbling something he didn't hear clearly enough. "Louder princess. I can't hear you." He said, a teasing tone to it.

"I said uh.." You started, looking at him, eyes almost hazy. He loved this look on you, as if you slipped into a different mindset around him. He knew by now that you actually did, he'd read about it online, and he felt powerful yet also filled with pride on how much trust you had in him to let yourself go like that. "I said can I please have it?" You mumbled out, cheeks read and oh so endearing to him. He smiled at that, moving his hand over your cheek, having you lean into it like a touch starved animal.

"Good girl. Can you say it clearer though? What do you want?" He asked, and you slowly lowered your gaze, mumbling something incoherent again, and he chuckled. "Alright alright, small steps. We're getting there." Jungkook had started to make it a regular thing to try and get you to communicate with him more clearly, even in a state like this. After all the mishaps you both had in the past due to bad communication between you, he decided that things needed to change. He slowly placed your hands on his shoulders so you couldn't slip off of him, and carefully unbuckled his belt. "Hm.. but I can't put it in baby, you know that right?" He said gently, and you nodded, even if you pouted a bit. It wasn't that he didn't want to go bare, but you didn't take birth control because you hated any form of pills, and he understood that, never pressuring you. He however didn't believe in 'pulling-out' being a good idea since he knew he would never be able to control himself to this extend- so you both agreed on using condoms, just to be safe. Both of you were definitely not ready to parents yet, that was for sure. "Alright." He said, grabbing your skirt and moving the fabric out of the way so your underwear was exposed to him. The darkened fabric was already glistening as he playfully ran two fingers over the spot, making you whine and shift around impatiently. Laughing again he pulled himself out of his underwear, before grabbing your behind and showing you closer to him until his length pushed against your folds, finally giving you a form of release. you wrapped your arms around his neck, moving your hips while he made sure to push himself against you in a similar rhythm. breathing heavily, the tension began to rise around you, air feeling stuffy and thick as he squeezed your behind with both hands, grumbling sounds of pleasure against your neck, mouthing against your skin. He was quick to get both of you to the edge, shamelessly letting himself cum over your underwear as he sighed contently. You seemed to get sleepy, arms pulling him closer, whining when he moved you to get down from his lap. "We only had a small breakfast to eat, and I won't let my princess starve in this household." He mumbled, speaking to you in a deep and low voice you could drown yourself in. His gaze fell on your inner thigh, still glistening from his and your releases, and he stood up, playfully slapping a Hand against your butt. "Now go you messy baby, first to get clean gets to eat the leftover shortcake!" He said in excitement, and you wordlessly ran (still a bit wobbly, but way better than weeks prior) to your bedroom, Jungkook gladly letting you win.

"Are you sure I'm not supposed to lift the lid- OW!" Jungkooks intense need to look and check on everything was funny, but also nervwrecking to say the least. He wouldn't even let the pasta cook in peace, constantly trying to lift the lid- even though you told him several times before that no, they won't burn, and yes, the lid is indeed very hot. You had the lid a little tilted so the steam could escape a bit better, and you had told him seemingly a hundred times prior to just leave it like that, but this was Jungkook we were talking about. The lid clattered a bit as it closed on top of the pot, he himself sheepishly turned around to you who stood behind him, looking at him with a gaze that clearly said 'I told you so'. Yet he would never truly listen to you, as funny as that would be. "You gotta kiss it better now!" He exclaimed, and you laughed at his wide eyed look as he held his pointer and middle finger in your direction, the tips of his digits slightly red. You kind of wanted to tell him not to be a crybaby about it, but two could play his games of teasing- and you felt proud at the way his eyes widened even further with the next bold move you made. Typically you never did things like this, but over time you had slowly become more and more comfortable around him, giving you more and more confidence and ease in your actions around him. Proof of that had been the fact that you had started to grow more self-assured whenever you gave him oral- something you had never thought you'd do before being with him. Gabbing his hand with both of yours, you kissed the tips of his fingers before boldly placing them insider your mouth, soft lips closing around them. His pupils dilated dangerously, and this was one of those moment's you could've sworn his entire eyeshape changed- his typical doe eyes becoming slender and sharp, as he pushed his fingers down on your tongue, making you open your mouth. His own lips parted a bit at the sight, the way you showed him such an amount of pure submissiveness making him feel almost high of some sort- yet the moment was broken at the sizzling sound of the water dripping down the sides of the pot, the closed lid making the water foam angrily down onto the stove.

You both had split apart from one another like it was your hands touching the hot plate and not the water, and the way you scrambled to turn around and pretend like setting the table was the most interesting thing to do. Jungkook had swallowed hard, grabbing the red and blue oven mitts to take the pot from the heat source, shutting the oven down and draining the pasta. You meanwhile had to calm yourself down, now in a weird state of- well, what was is? Embarrassment maybe? Possible. Yet you didn't have time to think about it much when you heard the fabric of the gloves Jungkook had used to not get burned, hitting the stone counter with a little more force than they should. The man in question had stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you worried that maybe something had happened- automatically assuming that it was your wrongdoing that had set him off. Studying the wooden surface of the dining table, still bare of any porcelain you should've put out by now, you didn't notice how he'd crept into the room again, hard gaze and frustrated features. You only did too late when his hands had already turned you around by your shoulders, hooking underneath your arms to place you ontop of the table with ease. With almost comically wide eyes you stared at his- a look of determination sparkling behind their dark color. "Oh you thought you could get away with that pretty girl?" He almost growled, a rough edge to the low tone of his voice. "Thought you could just tease me like that, hm?" He said, suddenly not too concerned about you getting cold as he swept the soft sweater over your head, making quick work of your bra underneath with frustrated noises when your arm couldn't escape one of the straps fast enough. His hands instantly kneaded at the flesh, relishing in the soft feel of them before he dipped his head down, leaving open mouthed kisses along your neck, hands wandering lower until they moved to caress the backs of your thighs. "Hm pretty girl is getting playful isn't she?" He mumbled, chuckling darkly before moving his head away to stand to his full height, pulling on your knees to have your behind almost slip over the edge. You made a surprised sound at this, scared you'll fall off when he hushed you, tipping his head to the side a bit impishly, almost a teasing ghost of a smile on his lips. "Oh? Not so bold now aren't you baby?" He said, looming over you again, his hard on present against your core, making you move your hips, testing if it would be enough friction. He raised an eyebrow at this, hand coming down on your hip to still you. "If you wanna stop just say 'red', okay princess?" His voice was sincere, a bit higher even as he spoke to you, face serious. You whined, not in the mood to talk, but he moved a hand to still your face, grabbing around your chin softly. "No baby, I need an answer. Loud and clear this time." He said, and you pouted at him, yet complied, telling him that you understood. It was a little heartwarming to see his concern even in a situation like that if you weren't so turned on at this point. He smiled, before he removed your skirt, impatiently shoving your damp panties down your legs, not bothering for you to kick them off at this point. Grabbing the fabric of the back of his shirt he pulled it over his head in a swift move, hair a mess over his eyes, barely giving you enough view of his gaze. Your eyes trailed over his tattoos, mesmerized every time you saw them. His muscles flexed underneath his skin as he pulled his jeans down together with his underwear, deep V-line standing out against the rest of his bodily structure. He grabbed something next to your head before opening the foil package, rolling the latex protection over his length quickly before moving your legs to fold over your body to rest against your stomach, eyes locked with yours for any signs of discomfort. When he found none, he moved his attention lower, pupils dilating at the view of your very center so ready for him. Not even needing to get himself any harder than he already was since your small situation just minutes prior, he entered you in a slow motion, bathing in the view of his manhood disappearing inside you inch by inch, your whines serving as the music accompanying the scene for him. Oh he knew he'd never get tired of that view, he could happily die with this picture as his last in front of his eyes. Your hands reached for his, interlacing your fingers with his, himself using this to his advantage to keep you as close to him as possible as he picked up his pace. He didn't care about the legs of the table complaining a bit as they scraped over the kitchen tiles with the force he started to put into his motion, mind too deep into the moment to think about that right now. His thoughts were absolutely occupied by you, everything about you- the fact your skin always seemed to glow, looking and feeling so soft underneath his fingers, a perfect match for your equally delicate personality hidden underneath all that physique. "Ah-" He sighed, never letting neither of you have a break. "You're all mine, all mine.." He breathed out, until you squeezed his hands a bit, making him look up at you. You didn't say anything yet he could spot a bit of discomfort behind your eyes, slowing down a bit to let you breathe better. "Hng.. legs-" You started, and Jungkook looked at you, waiting for you to continue. "..they'gettin tingly.." You said, and he could see how hard it was for you to really form any coherent thought, let alone form a sentence. Yet he only smiled, moving you both around a bit, stretching your legs out before he entered you again, this time a bit more comfortably for you. "Good job Baby, thank you- ah- thanks for telling me.." He mumbled, kissing your lips desperately before his hand grabbed your chin again, opening your mouth for him to explore. His hands held you securely by the back of your knees, his hair starting to cling to his forehead with the help of his sweat which was slowly building up at this point. He breathed heavily, eyes never leaving your form, drinking you in like he was a parched man roaming the desert. Surely, your whines started to stretch longer and longer, an indication that you were getting close, making Jungkook pick up his pace, huffing a bit as his own release drew closer as well. The way your legs pulled out of his grasp, your core clenching around him had him spill his load inside the condom, groaning as he did so, gulping down breaths alongside you who laid flat on the table in front of him, his body only held up by his forearms above you, forehead resting on your collarbone. He chuckled after a bit, before finally standing up again. "We should really stop fucking in the kitchen." He said between a laugh, and you looked at him scandalously as if you wanted to deny having any part in this. "Oh don't look at me like that, you enjoyed it too!" He said, helping you stand up for a short moment before he placed his arm underneath your knees, the other supporting your back behind your shoulders. Carrying had seemingly never been an issue for him, no matter how exhausted he might seemed sometimes.

Walking into the bathroom, you went to do your business, (Jungkook insisting you did, even though you had told him you didn't have to pee) and the young man started the shower, water not as hot as he would like it to be, since he knew that you didn't like too hot showers- you were more for hot baths, something he was wary off after you had overdone it one time and went dizzy afterwards. After that situation, he would always sneakily check the water temperature before you would enter, sometimes adding cold water to it so you wouldn't overheat like last time. When you didn't join him after a bit, he peeked his head out of the patterned glass doors, spotting you sitting on the closed toilet seat, seemingly waiting. He chuckled, waving his hand to catch your attention. "Come on doll, we gotta save water, be all environment friendly 'n shit." He said laughing, and you walked over to him inside the shower to let the water fall onto both of you. He immediately grabbed a bottle of yours and his favorite body wash, rubbing his hands together with the lotion between it to warm it up as to not startle you, before he grabbed the purple loofah from the side, lathering it in the soap before he ran it across your backside, careful and completely immersed into the task at hand. He made sure not to scrub as relentless and speedy as he would on his own body, making sure to rinse the foam off of you as well. Something that always got to him was just how petite you looked compared to himself; his hands had started to get a bit rough from working so much these days, a stark contrast to your soft skin. He was fascinated by the very slight and faded scars you had on your skin, all hidden like these 'spot the cat between the owl' pictures. There was one on your arm near the side of your wrist; a burn you had told him before when you had started to work at a bakery. He could spot another one behind your ear, a mark that had wandered overtime, the only real evidence of when you fell off a tree when you were six. Then there were the most recent ones, still bright and present, a stitched line above your right hipbone, as well as some healed scratches all over that side of your body- but these small cracks in your porcelain form would heal completely, they would fade just like the pain he'd felt that day. When he turned you around to wash your front, even though you told him you could do it, he spotted different marks. Like the small birthmarks littered like stars forming a constellation, or the stretch marks most present on the inside of your upper thighs- something you hated, yet he saw them as proof that your body has grown, that you could even catch your own skin by surprise at this point. Whenever his hand ran over that part he could faintly feel the dents, yet it didn't gross him out at all. It made him feel fascinated, because all of this was proof that you were indeed a human being, and not the angle he always found himself mistaking you as. Gently, you took the loofah from him, using his own bodywash, before you repeated the same task on him. He smiled softly down on you, humored by the fact that you had to look up to actually reach his shoulders. Just as you were about to tell him to turn around, his eyes suddenly sharpened impishly, as he reached out to pull on the shower controls, switching to the detachable showerhead instead of the overhead one. For the first time he himself had no intention of satisfying himself in a sense of traditional release, but in another way. As he tapped his shoulders for you to grab onto so you wouldn't fall, he slowly pushed the showerhead against your center, your squeaks and the way your fingers gripped onto his flesh feeding his inner predatory soul. He increased the amount of water flowing through the silver-striped waterhose, the pressure on your delicate nerves leveling up simultaneously. You tried to close your legs but to no avail, the metal not giving away against your soft muscles. Your entrance clenched around nothing as your bundles suddenly snapped like a rubber band pulled too hard, leaving you yelping as you almost jumped at Jungkook, trying to escape his weapon of pleasure and the oversensitivity- but he had reacted fast enough, lowering the pressure so that you could ride it out pleasently, whining a bit while taking deep, shuddering breaths, your arms now locked around his neck, head against his chest. He smiled, the view and action giving him enough satisfaction that he didn't even think about you returning the favor.

After Dinner, you both had made yourself at home on your shared bed, watching a random drama on his scratched up laptop, him sometimes groaning at the fact that the charging cable disconnected randomly sometimes, darkening the screen for a second until he rearranged the already taped cable. You had offered to get your laptop from the other room, but he didn't want you to get up, telling you that it worked just fine. At some point you had yawned, eyes closing for the fraction of seconds it seemed, but in reality it was for more than three, sometimes more. Jungkook noticed how increasingly tired you got, kissing your head before he closed the laptop after pausing the video. He set it down onto the floor next to the bed, shutting off the light and pulling the covers over your bodies, arms immediately reaching around your body, pulling you close. "Hey, 'Koo?" You said after a bit, now awake again after remembering something. He hummed, giving you an indication that he was listening. "..nevermind. Goodnight." He hummed again, before he moved, snapping on the light next to the bed, pushing himself up on his elbow.

"Come on." He said, and you turned around, looking at him with squinted eyes because of the light.

You stared at his neck as you talked. "I dunno.. didn't you want something too, like, when we were in the shower.?" You asked, and he shook his head no. "But like, now I feel bad cause only I got something and you didn't.." You said, and he simply smiled.

"Nah. Its okay really." He said, but your pouting face said otherwise. "Hm.. I mean, I guess there's something I always kind of wanted.." He said, and your eyes widened at that, sparkling with the challenge he just declared to you. He loved how much you trusted him, not even knowing what he was implying, yet already willing to go all in just for his happiness and approval for you. He moved, looming over you. "I'm gonna be pretty mean though.." He said, voice low as he tipped his head to the side a bit, feigning innocence. "..you think pretty girl can take it?" he sing-songed, chuckling at your nodding after his question, and he soon made his hands roam under your shirt running over your chest, feeling your soft buds beginning to peak at his sensual touch, your body already responding to him. He really didn't need anything from you at all, the way you were giving yourself to him had been payment enough, yet he also couldn't hide his own need of being a little selfish once in a while. There certainly were things roaming around in his head that he wanted to turn into reality, yet the perfect timing to talk about it had never been quite right. Now could be the time though. You nodded cutely at him, and he grinned like the wolf in the red riding hood story, ready to feast on his prey like the canine predator pictured in the books. Yet the way he would be devouring you would proof to be way more sinful than what those stories could've ever told about. As he began to push his knee in between your legs, letting you grind against his bare skin through the cloth of your underwear like the desperate being you were, even if you were on the verge of falling asleep just seconds ago, he sighed at the way your face relaxed in pleasure, head pushing a little into the soft pillows underneath, hands reaching for his skin to get any form of physical contact you could get. He grabbed you by your wrists, pushing them into the soft sheets on the mattress you both laid on, ripping his knee and your only source of friction and pleasure away from you as soon as he noticed that you were close. You whined at this, pouting at him as you slowly connected the dots in your head, finally coming to the conclusion of what his intentions would be for the night; and he cooed at you teasingly. "Oh, what is it pretty girl?" He said, brushing your hair back to reveal the entirety of your face to him. "You said you'd take it didn't you? Or did my good girl lie to me, hm?" He hummed, eyes slimming down to slits, his dominating demeanor finally coming to the surface; a fact that you could not yet place as good or bad. "I don't think you did, princess. Good girls never lie.." He chimed, slowly ridding yourself of your underwear, pulling them down your legs until he deemed enough time had passed to continue for the second attempt. This time his hand found its way downtown, reaching between your already shimmering legs to push two of his fingers insider your core, gentle movements way too slow to actually push you anywhere near over the edge. It was like standing on a bridge; you could see the deep waters below, but the railings would always keep you from falling. He was relentless, ever the tease, feeding off of your desperate soft please under your breath, wanting, no needing to hear them more clearly. So once he felt you get close for another time, he sped up his movements for a second, making you wheep out before he pulled away as if burned, pushing his knees between your legs so you were forced to stay open and bare like that, breaths coming out short and cut to pieces. He hushed you again, gently running his warm hand over your lower abdomen, thumb running in circles just below your navel, as he loomed over you again, his hair falling onto your forehead, curled strands tickling your skin. Your eyes were closed shut, frustrated huffs of air escaping you as you peeked one eye open at him, making him chuckle. "Hm.. not quite there yet I think." He mumbled, his thumb pulling your lower lip from between your teeth, opening your mouth for him to kiss you deeply for a moment, helping your body and mind to calm down for a bit. It did nothing to soothe your lower regions, but it did help you to ground yourself at least a little bit, before he moved his body again, this time hooking your legs over his broad shoulders by the back of your knees, grinning sheepishly at you from his spot on his stomach facing your core, licking his lips before he placed his mouth against you, tongue making its way over your most sensitive bundle of nerves in a slow and agonizing motion. He took his time, playing around for a while just how he thought was fitting, eating away like a starved man who was trying to savor every little bite, before he pulled away with a wet noise, just before you could slip from his grasp. You sobbed drily without tears, pleading loudly this time, before he changed his position yet again, pushing his length inside as slow as he could, staying inside of you for a moment, before pulling out again, grabbing a condom from the bedside table and putting it on, chuckling as his own hips bucked a bit at the sheer sensitivity he'd gained at this point. He pushed inside after a bit again, careful not to touch your pulsing pearl as to not accidentally let you cum, bringing himself to a short release before he reached for your hands which clenched the sheets so tightly he was scared you'd hurt yourself. As soon as the still sensitive tip of his length had gently popped out of you, he could see the way your legs quivered, trying to desperately close up, get any sort of friction, tight hole clenching around nothing; it was an almost magical sight to him, really. He moved his hand over your center, gathering the slick of your body and moving his hand all the way to your chest, softly running his digits over the smooth flesh of one of your breast, humming gentle tunes to you. „Hm, you’re doing so well, you’re so good for me, that’s the last one okay?“ he hummed to you, eyes softening at your glistening ones, tears of frustration gathering over your eyes, clouding and blurring his image for you until you blinked them away, letting them run down your cheeks. The back of his other hand gathered them before they could travel far, wiping them away and kissing your cheeks in return, smile on his lips never wavering. „You’re so, so so good, gonna stop being mean now, okay doll?“ he said and you shook your head yes frantically, making him chuckle. „Then lemme see you fly little dove..” he mumbled, catching you by surprise as he shoved himself back inside you were he felt like he belonged, his pace relentless, inked hand reaching between your bodies to glide over your already pulsating pearl below. Your neck pushed your head into the pillows beneath, mouth opening in a silent scream, as your back arched into his chest, his eyes never leaving your form as you came with the feeling of pure euphoria. And even though it had only lasted seconds, the view alone had made him release as well, mouth frantically attaching to your neck, mouthing at the skin, biting, groaning, his entire body reacting to the way your hands scrambled to hold onto him, thighs shaking, legs pulling him closer. He truly had been a pure moron to miss out on a feeling like this before; yet he was sure that he could only fly that high with you as his wings. It has never happened before to him, but he actually came again as well, surprising himself which made him moan in a pitch higher than usual. He gasped, falling down next to you after he discarded the condom into the bin next to the bed, pulling you close immediately, needing to have you against his skin.

Jungkook was a man who only knew how to convey his feelings sexually. He never was someone to enjoy physical affection like cuddling or kissing, he was clumsy with his words, and he always found typical dates cliche and cringey. Yet he caught himself like this again, with your body in his arms, the window letting in the sun from outside, warm light creating glowing patterns on your exposed skin mimicking the stripes of the blinds. He couldn't help but feel like this was the most aesthetic thing he'd ever seen, wanting to take a picture of it but also not wanting to move and wake you in the process. This was your doing, the way he slowly changed over time, growing more and more into a person he actually started to like whenever he looked into the mirror. He no longer was the guy that stared back at him with eyes full of judgement, but a young man who's gaze was full of determination and confidence. And slowly this confidence wasn't just a mask, but genuine. And it made him sigh with a smile, closing his eyes to catch some more sleep with you and maybe even meet you in his dreams.

"Why are my shirts pink?!"

"You put my red skirt into the wash with the white laundry I guess?"

"Wait ...you're not supposed to do that?"

Taglist: @sweetenedcooky @ggukkieland @btsismybias22 @darkgvk @daddypkj @flowerprincess24 @crazylittlemay @zeharilisharaban

#bts #bts imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #good girl au

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waywardwrestlewritingwaif · 3 years

Text

Raise the Stakes, Part 9

Shorter bit this time! Anyone who watched Impact Slammiversary can predict what happens here.

Previous sections (including the original that spawned this multi=part monster) can be found in the Master List.

Pairing: David Finlay x OFC x Jay White

Word count: 1,362

Content advisory: nothing really, other than cursing. there's always cursing.

You’re determined to have coffee made by the time he wakes up but it feels like you’re bumping into everything and making the maximum noise possible. As soon as you got out of bed and grabbed the first shirt you found, which happens to be his shirt, your legs felt like they were only partially under your control. It’s not just that you’re physically off but that you’re emotionally off as well. You keep peeking back in the bedroom to make sure he’s still there.

When the coffee is ready, you pour two large mugs, pleased that you remember how he takes it, and pad back into the bedroom.

His eyes open just a crack and he gives a languid smile.

“Bringing me coffee and wearing my shirt? Are you trying to kill me?”

You laugh and put his mug down on the night table.

“Put them both down.”

You oblige and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you down on top of him. He plays with the hem of your shirt for a few seconds before speaking.

“Well this has never looked better.”

You can’t resist leaning in for a kiss, which he welcomes, running his fingers through your hair and holding your face close even when you separate.

“So how long are you supposed to be here before you go back to Japan?”

“As long as I want. I didn’t ask for an excursion, David, I quit. Gedo came up with this because he didn’t want to lose me and they need help over here.”

“You seriously quit,” he repeats incredulously. “That must have gone over well.”

“I guess they really liked me after all.”

“You know that’s not who I meant.” He gives you an insouciant look. “How did he take it?”

You push yourself back up to a sitting position because you want him to have a clear view of your face as you tell him. “No idea. I left him a note thanking him for the opportunities he’d given me and telling him that the time had come for me to move on to other things.”

“Damn. Didn’t even say it to his face.” He shakes his head a little. “Doesn’t sound like you’re over him.”

You’re surprised at the total lack of resentment in his voice, like he’s just pointing out something you might not have considered before.

“Fair enough,” you sigh. “I guess some things you just have to walk away from and deal with on your own time because it would just be too drawn-out and fucked up if you tried to do it while you were still in the thick of things. Not every situation gets closure.”

He smiles again, which surprises you and also makes you feel warm through your whole body.

“I like that,” he says softly, squeezing your hip. “Now you can get off me because I need coffee.”

It’s well into the afternoon by the time he heads back to his place and once he’s gone, you have to go for a long walk just to burn off some of the happy energy you’re feeling. By early evening, he calls.

“What are you up to?”

“Nothing. Thinking of ordering pizza.”

“Can I have some?”

“No. You can’t do a cheat meal the night before a big show.”

“Fine. I’ll sit here and eat cauliflower all night or something.”

“Sounds like I should keep an eye on you to make sure you’re not eating anything you shouldn’t.”

So it’s not long at all before you’re over at his place and the two of you are cooking dinner together, which largely consists of you retrieving ingredients, chopping vegetables and herbs, and letting him handle the actual cooking part. It seems like you’re both trying to stretch out this part, trying to have a longer conversation because it’s been a while since you’ve been able to do that, but it’s also very obvious from your body language that you’re itching to get your hands on each other. Eventually, it becomes impossible to hold back.

“You have bruises,” you giggle as the two of you recover your breath in his bed.

“Comes with the job.”

“Those aren’t from another wrestler.”

“Lucky for you people will think they were and won’t know you’re beating me when they aren’t around.”

“No, they’ll think they’re from training and that you’ve been working very hard the last couple of days.”

“Well, I’ve been getting good cardio in.”

You pull him close to you, laughing. You desperately want to find a way to ask if you get to go home with him tonight, after the show. Having spent the last two nights together, it’s not exactly like he should feel obliged to be with you again, especially not if he’s sore or wants to just hang out with the guys. But you love the idea of being able to celebrate with him, and the idea that he might want to share that moment with you.

In the end, you can’t come up with a way to broach the subject without making yourself feel exposed, and the two of you go from affectionately touching each other to being aroused once again, which takes your mind off things rather quickly. Still, you make sure that you at least repeat that you love him, in case he thinks that you were in any doubt.

It’s been a long time since you could just be a wrestling fan and be in an audience cheering and booing and laughing. Impact has made sure you have a great seat, right in front, where you can feel like you’re part of everything. You know a lot of people in the audience, they’re mostly friends and family who’ve been invited to serve as a stepping stone between an empty theatre and the return to live audiences. Even the small group, though, makes things feel exciting, so there you are, carrying on like a 12-year-old, losing yourself in the experience.

Of course, you pop especially loud when FinJuice make their surprise (to everyone else) return. Seeing him at a remove like this, where you’re not supposed to know him outside of his in-ring persona, gives you a little thrill. It’s like the fact that you know him is your secret. He does give you a little wink as he passes and you bite your lip reflexively.

The whole show is a lot of fun and builds to a great climax. You’ve been backstage for Kenny Omega matches before but you’ve never had the opportunity to just appreciate what a great worker he is. It’s so easy to get caught up in the story he tells and Callihan, tough bastard that he is, makes a perfect counterpoint. You can feel in the back of your mind that the company has one more surprise coming. They love this sort of thing, especially as a big closer and you can’t blame them. There’s something about the faces in the crowd that makes you think that everyone senses something in the air.

And, as the despicable winners raise their hands and preen in the ring, the room goes dark. There’s a deep silence that engulfs the room for a moment and then the sound of metal scraping on metal, a sound you know all too well. It cuts right through you, down to the bone.

No. It’s not possible.

The music kicks in, every note of it like an electrical shock. You can hear the voices rising from the nearby commentary booth. “Is he here?!?”

You give a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening. Please don’t let this be happening.

The music continues to swell as Omega and his boys stand in the ring, perplexed and anxious, until finally a figure emerges at the top of the ramp, surveying everything around him with a sort of bemused contempt as he picks his way through the last match’s wreckage and down to the ring. He looks so good it’s like an insult.

Behind you, one of the commentator’s voices cries out “It’s Switchblade Jay White!”

And as soon as you hear that, your knees buckle and everything goes dark.

#david finlay fanfic #david finlay imagine #jay white fanfic #jay white imagine #njpw imagine #njpw fanfic #impact wrestling fanfic #wrestling imagine #wrestling fanfiction #wayward wrestle writing

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Text

3 Simple Rules for Dating a Centenarian - ch. 2

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Chapters: 2/2

Read chapter one on Tumblr.

Chapter two summary: Sam and Bucky talk after their date op in Germany.

“Four,” Bucky says.

Sam, plodding down the road beside him, turns to stare. His sidekick (and fuck him if Bucky’s thinking of Sam in the same terms) has his chin lifted, moving his gaze back and forth across the horizon in a slow sweep. With the lines of trees planted as windbreaks around the fields, they can’t see the highway from here. It could be nice, without the rushing noise of cars and trucks, if Bucky knew how to shut up. That sorta pout his mouth does when his face is in its sour resting position—that’s what Sam wants to see. Only because it means Bucky wouldn’t be talking and Sam could maybe find a few minutes of peace, some quiet in which to consider the Flag-Smashers they just fought.

“Four what?” he demands when Bucky doesn’t continue.

Can’t be hostiles. If Bucky had spotted anybody, he wouldn’t still be striding along, looking unconcerned. No, he’d be running flat-out towards their adversaries like the rash moron he’s always accusing Steve of having been. Trying to leave Sam in the dust until Sam kicked off and spread his wings.

“Four stars,” Bucky says, carefully, clearly, like that clears anything up.

“What are you doing? Rating our trip down the highway? That was a transport truck full of medicine and super-soldiers, not an Uber.”

Sam’s grinning to himself when Bucky turns his head to glare. Ah. So gratifying. Amends sound good in theory, but Bucky’s irritation is so much simpler in practice. Sam knows how to handle that. He’ll take the grouchy stewing post-mission over having to meet Bucky’s eyes across a table, the promised snapper dinner laid out in front of them. They haven’t gotten around to that yet.

“I’m not rating the ride,” Bucky says, “I’m rating our date.”

That trips Sam up, but just for a second.

“No, no, no, dates don’t end with me rescuing you from the underside of a truck.”

“You didn’t rescue me.”

“Man, those wheels would’ve turned you into ground beef,” Sam says with a snort.

“I doubt it. Fell two hundred feet without a parachute today and I’m fine.”

“You want a second opinion on that?”

Instead of watching Bucky’s scowl deepen at the joke, Sam sees his expression flatten out. It makes Sam narrow his eyes in suspicion.

“What?” he prompts.

“You’re wrong,” Bucky states plainly.

“About what those wheels would do to you? We can test it when we’re back stateside if you want. I’ll requisition a truck.”

“Not about that.”

Sam’s looking closely, so he spots the smile. A curl at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. He hopes, secretly, that Bucky is scanning the surroundings well enough for both of them, because Sam’s attention is homed in on this little sign of Bucky’s amusement.

“About the end of the date,” Bucky finally clarifies.

“Mission. The end of the mission, when I rescued you.”

“The end of the date, when I was on top of you.”

Something to throw with all his strength, that’s what Sam needs right now. Some physical outlet for how badly he wants to fling the creeping, seeking, aching things he’s feeling very far away from himself. He wonders if Steve ever just whipped the shield as hard as he could to vent his frustrations. It’s hot as hell out here under the sun and Sam can feel the dampness of his chest inside his suit, the sweat riding his spine.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, fine with the scent of manure and getting nothing but grass instead. Like inhaling the colour green. Smells like the field they landed in. Landed in and went barreling across until, yeah, Sam wound up on his back with Bucky above him, their arms fastened around each other like life preservers or umbilical cords or anything else tight and necessary for keeping people alive. Goddamn nose-to-nose. Over the phone, Sam could brush Bucky off. When he says this shit in person, Sam has nowhere to go, besides extending the wings and launching himself into the sky. But he doesn’t want to overreact (doesn’t want Bucky to see him overreact).

“You just calling it a date because you don’t have rules for those?” Sam asks, deflecting.

“My three rules, you mean?” Bucky asks. He loses the smile.

“Right.”

“They’re for… everything. Supposed to be a blanket rollout, not doing anything illegal or that’ll hurt anybody in any aspect of my life. I’m sure the rules go for dating too, though Dr. Raynor and I didn’t really talk about those specific circumstances.”

“I think you might’ve mostly stuck to those rules today. I don’t think we hurt those guys.”

“Maybe you didn’t—”

“Get over yourself.”

“You’re a rude date,” Bucky notes. He’s looking straight ahead. No, not looking, staring. Like he does.

“I didn’t even invite you,” Sam says, refusing to correct this bonehead again about what kind of outing this was. “You walked onto that plane.”

“You wanted me to come.”

“Didn’t need you.”

“Oh really?” Bucky challenges. Sam clenches his jaw as he avoids meeting Bucky’s gaze.

“Hey, I was still in the air while you were clinging to that truck like a toddler to their dad’s leg.”

“You were in the air, but for how long?” Bucky asks, halting and grabbing Sam’s arm. Sam shakes him off in annoyance but stops too. “Until the Flag-Smashers knocked you out or broke your wings like they broke Redwing. They were mopping the floor with you.”

“And it was so damn useful to have you there to be the other mop,” Sam says sarcastically.

“If you’d put me back on the truck instead of in the field, we mighta had a shot at them.”

Bucky’s hands go to his hips, his Vibranium arm gleaming in the sun. He’s going to have to say more about that White Wolf thing. Wondering where the hell Bucky’s sleeve went and refusing to ask, Sam crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“We had no shot. Not today, not without more information.”

“Information takes too long.”

“That’s what a successful op is,” Sam stresses, chopping the side of one hand into his opposite palm. “Intelligence gathering, corroboration, planning, execution. Information is what tells you to hang back instead of throwing yourself into a fight you’re not prepared enough to win.”

“We were already here. We couldn’t just let them leave.”

“Don’t worry about the hypotheticals now; them leaving is exactly what happened.”

“Unless Captain America has ’em on the ropes,” Bucky says deadpan.

“I hope they pushed him off the back of one of those trucks.”

“Were you thinking about that while we were up there with him?”

“At the time, I was thinking about pushing you off the back of the truck for getting us into that situation,” Sam explains, “that’s why I can picture it so clearly. See, Buck? I always have a plan.”

“Just like Steve.”

“No, not just like Steve.”

Sam pushes past Bucky to start walking again. After a couple steps, Bucky’s back at his side.

“You think the new guy had a plan?” he asks. “I don’t.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Sure you do.”

“Are you trying to get me to talk now? Mr. ‘I’m not a words guy’? Fine,” Sam huffs, tired from everything inside him that’s pushing to get out rather than their leisurely walk down a country road. Even so, he walks faster, almost stomping, and Bucky has to lope up next to him to stay in step. “I don’t think he had a plan. I don’t think he could fasten that dumb helmet on his head without a direct order. I don’t think he and his partner found us on their own initiative.”

“They work pretty smoothly as a team though,” Bucky tosses out.

“That looked like familiarity, not the result of inspiring leadership on the part of the Captain.”

“And not as good as us.”

Sam sends Bucky poisonous side-eye.

“I’m not trying to lead you.”

“I don’t wanna be led,” Bucky replies. “We fight together better than they do and that’s with you pretending you hate me.”

“Oh, I don’t need to pretend.” The comment is habit.

“All I’m saying is that it’s better. The two of us being out here doing this stuff together.”

“Especially with that dick waiting in the wings.”

Bucky stares at him long enough that Sam turns his head to stare back. When he does, Bucky glances away, but Sam knows where he was looking—at his back, where his wings are folded away.

“Waiting in the wings is a figure of speech,” he tells Bucky angrily.

“It’s perfect though. I always think of you as that dick in the wings.”

Sam exhales hard through his nose.

“I hope you don’t always think of me as anything.”

“I do. I always think of you.”

Freefall doesn’t jar Sam, no more than what he can remember it feeling like when he was a little kid and his dad would toss him into the air before catching him again. But what Bucky says changes the physics of his insides, the gravity all wrong with his organs. Heart plummeting then trying to sail straight up his throat like a balloon somebody just let go of.

Then Bucky adds, “You and that shield.”

“Drop it.”

He could just fly to the airport, leave Bucky here with plenty of time to think his stupid, shield-related thoughts. Maybe this smartass would have all the answers by the time he reached the plane, or Munich, if they went wheels-up without him. The truth is that the shield—and the Captain America persona—are on Sam’s mind just as much as they’re on Bucky’s, only he manages to keep those thoughts locked up tight. He has to make sure that shit’s contained, particularly if the new poster boy’s going to turn up like this. Sam doesn’t need that in his face.

As they walk, he glances at Bucky, who’s probably as aware of it as Sam is when Bucky gives him that stare. Blue as the sky overhead and heavy as a boulder. The realization that, although he didn’t mean to lead, Bucky followed him here, and continues to stick with him, is staggering. The pages of his mental photo album flip and he sees Steve crack a grin. It’s not like that, Sam tells that blond do-gooder, young in his memories. The only blond do-gooder who ever has or ever will look right with his arm threaded through the straps of the shield.

Maybe, maybe, this thing could work. Him and Bucky running ops, doing better at not getting their asses kicked in front of the government’s hand-picked hero. But Bucky’s gotta let that shit go. Since the Blip, Sam’s been trying to fly under the radar and that’s what he wants to continue doing. He doesn’t need to be showy, just effective; he doesn’t want to get dragged into some Cap vs. Cap contest, the inheritor against the upstart. If Bucky would take the time to think and listen, they could figure this out and be good. And do good. Understanding each other the way Sam wanted when he called Bucky up and they talked about Tunisia and rules and fish dinners. Bucky could make his jokes and, the next time, Sam could call his bluff. Show that gruff, rusty motherfucker what a real date looks like. What kind of team could they be? All kinds.

“Are we even going the right way?” Bucky asks after a half-hour of silence.

“Yes,” Sam says firmly.

He actually hasn’t checked. After they untangled themselves in that field, he just started walking, too keyed up to establish their position. He wonders if the grass still shows their path, crushed where they rolled to a stop.

“You sure?”

“Uh huh.”

“Got any thoughts you wanna share?” Bucky asks. Sam frowns and steals a glance at him. “What? I told you I’ve been going to therapy. I know the importance of a healthy dialogue.”

Sam tries to force his mouth to keep curving down, but he really wants to smile. Bucky’s not the worst company and he is obviously capable of growth.

“A question,” he says.

“If it’s sarcastic, I’m not—”

“Four outta what?”

“What?”

“You said four stars,” Sam reminds him. “Is that four outta five or four outta ten?”

Bucky’s smile spreads slowly, smugly, and Sam rolls his eyes hard. He’s no more aggravated by Bucky than he is by his own need to know. ‘Four stars’ was an incomplete assessment! Typical.

“I hate you,” he says.

Still smiling away, Bucky sways into Sam as he walks, their arms brushing. Could be an accident.

But probably not.

#my writing #story update #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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avengerscompound · 4 years

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Running to a Standstill - 14

Running to a Standstill: A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 3331

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut (MM, frottage, oral sex, anal fingering)

Synopsis: While on the run from an unknown organization trying to take your son, you meet two super-soldiers. While they try to help you get to the bottom of who is hunting you and your son, feelings come out and admissions are made that make your personal life even more tricky.

Chapter 14

Steve woke before both you and Bucky. He would normally get up and go for a run, but there was something too inviting about staying curled up in bed with both of you to resist.

Bucky had ended up in the middle, cuddled around you while Steve spooned him. Seeing him now, wrapped around you, reminded Steve of when they were still boys and hadn’t acknowledged how they felt. Steve would often wake up with Bucky draped over him. Steve had never liked feeling that small. He wondered if Bucky had liked being able to hold someone like that.

The bedroom door opened and a bleary-eyed looking Geo cuddling his tablet. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and just stared at the bed.

“Hey, G,” Steve said, softly. “You wanna climb in here with us?”

Geo shook his head and point at the door before shoving his thumb back in his mouth.

Steve smiled and untangled himself from Bucky. It wasn’t as easy as he thought, and Bucky grumbled and shifted closer to you. It was interesting. He’d walked in on Bucky sleeping a few times since getting him back and Bucky had always jolted awake and gone into a defensive position, prepared to be attacked. Yet here he was, deep asleep and not waking for either someone entering the room or being shuffled around. Steve wondered if Bucky was just more attuned to what was happening and who was with him, or he was just so relaxed that his usual expectations of being attacked had just failed to be set off.

Steve followed Geo out into the living room and the little boy went straight to the kitchen and pointed up at the cupboard where Steve kept his cereal. “You want some breakfast, buddy?”

Geo nodded and pointed again and Steve opened the cupboard. The array of cereal had definitely expanded since you moved in. He used to have granola, corn flakes, and cheerios. Now there were Honey Bunches of Oats, Rice Krispies, and Lucky Charms in there too. “Which one do you want, G?”

Geo still wasn’t talking. He just pointed again and Steve started to touch the boxes in the hope that Geo might nod when he touched the one he wanted.

“Captain Rogers,” FRIDAY announced. “Geo wanted me to tell you he wants Lucky Charms.”

Steve chuckled and got the box from the cupboards. “Thanks, FRIDAY,” he said. “You not ready to talk yet, Gee?”

Geo shook his head, his thumb firmly planted in his mouth.

Steve grabbed a plastic bowl and poured the cereal into it. “That’s okay. You don’t have to talk to anyone.”

He added milk to the cereal, grabbed a spoon, and set Geo up at the coffee table with a box of apple juice. He turned on some cartoons and Geo just sat quietly watching Scooby-Doo as he ate. Steve went back into the kitchen to try and figure out what he’d make for everyone else. He wasn’t really much of a cook. Or a cook at all. He liked to joke he could make a peanut butter sandwich and it would end up burned. While he considered what he could handle that was more than just toast and cereal, he put on the coffee.

You and Bucky emerged from the bedroom still looking like you were both not quite awake. Bucky came straight to the kitchen while you went and kissed Geo good morning.

“Were you trying to make breakfast?” Bucky asked.

“I was thinking about it,” Steve said. “It’s the thought that counts right?”

“You tell that to my stomach, pal,” Bucky teased and started pulling things out of the fridge.

“Thanks for getting Geo his breakfast,” you said, coming into the kitchen. “What are we making?”

“I was thinking omelets,” Bucky said. “We can put what we like in them.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed and grabbed a bowl and started cracking eggs into it. “So I was thinking…”

Steve looked over at you. There was an edge to your voice that told him you were overthinking things again.

“I’m really worried about Geo starting to see you as … well dads I guess,” you said. You spoke quietly, clearly not wanting Geo to overhear. “At least not until we’re all absolutely sure this is it for all of us. And it’s far too early for that. I was already concerned about him forming too strong bonds with everyone here. I don’t want him to start getting separation anxiety on top of everything else.”

“So what were you thinkin’, hon?” Bucky asked, looking up from the cutting he was doing.

“Well, I’m staying here because it’s not safe too. But ideally, I wouldn’t be living with Steve,” you explained. “I’m wondering if I should start sleeping in Geo’s room again. Not always. Just… so he doesn’t get the image of us in bed together connected with the way parents sleep in the same bed in TV shows. You know?”

Steve nodded, though he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“I think maybe you shouldn’t sleep over all the time either, Buck. Just … you know?” You said.

Bucky nodded too and rubbed your back. “I get it.”

“But I think this could be good for us too, because… I think we should also spend time together as couples. Particularly you two. I think you have to … explore some things together without me,” you explained. “You know what I mean?”

Steve couldn’t fault your logic. There had been so much he and Bucky had missed out on and even though he’d enjoyed the sex he’d had with you both, there were probably things they needed to try one-on-one too. It was good to make sure the bonds with each other were as strong as the bonds as a trio were too. “It makes sense,” he agreed.

“Good,” you said, sounding relieved. “So I don’t know, maybe some nights we all sleep here, some nights it’s just me and Bucky, and some night you guys sleepover in Bucky’s apartment. And we just… take turns with this being Geo’s home. Does that … is that okay?”

“It’s a really good idea,” Bucky agreed. “And trust me, the last thing we want to do is hurt Geo. So we’ll be careful.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” you said. “I mean, I want this to work…”

“Of course you do,” Steve said. “We all do, but you’re right to protect him.”

“So, uh…” Bucky said, getting a pan out. “How do we decide?”

“Yeah, that’s tricky,” you said. “Don’t want people to feel left out, so how about tonight, that is if you’re both available, you guys go on a first date. You have a lot of time to make up.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Steve asked.

You shook your head. “Geo and I can watch a movie and have an early night.”

“Alright, Buck? What do you think? Want to go out for dinner with me?” Steve asked.

Bucky smiled. It was genuine and Steve could see the love he felt reflected back at him. “I’d love to, Stevie.”

Steve took Bucky to a jazz club in the end. It was dark and loud and very difficult to talk, but Steve didn’t feel like he needed to talk to Bucky. He and Bucky had talked and talked and talked and talked. It was time for all the other things they’d missed out on. The holding hands on the table. The sharing bites of each other’s food. The cuddling. The stolen kisses. He needed to have the dance. He wanted the dance he had failed to get in all his years on earth.

The jazz club was perfect because of how dark and loud it was. He didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or having people’s eyes on him. The food was good but not outside his comfort zone, so he didn’t have to worry about the wrong choice. Most importantly, he could dance to music that was familiar to him with the man he had been in love with since 1935.

Steve had chosen familiar foods. It was food he’d imagined would have seemed so fancy to him back when he was a kid. A shrimp cocktail for starters and rib-eye steak for his entree. He even ordered a martini, like he was playing at being a spy and this was the persona he needed to fit.

Bucky was a little more daring, ordering grilled asparagus with goat’s cheese to start and mussels served in a garlic and white wine broth for his entree.

It almost didn’t matter in the end though. They sat close to each other on their tiny table and they switched plates back and forth as they ate. Steve got all the things he’d imagined when he was young when he thought about going out on a date with Bucky. Only no one cared that it was two men sitting there, holding hands and stealing kisses. The floor was always packed with people swing dancing.

They were finishing up their meals when Bucky leaned into him. “Are you actually going to ask me to dance, pal?”

Steve smiled and his face flushed. “Will you lead? I still don’t know how.”

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky said, standing and offering Steve his hand. “I’ll lead.”

Bucky led Steve around the dance floor, spinning him and dipping him. The more they danced the more comfortable Steve felt and the better he got. Until they were both laughing and jiving together in the crowd of people.

The music changed from something up-tempo to something slow and sexy. For a moment Steve considered sitting down. It was one thing to jitterbug with Bucky, it was another completely to slow dance with him in front of all these people. Bucky didn’t seem to question it for a second, he just pulled Steve close and put his hands on Steve’s hips. They slowly swayed together on the dance floor, cheek-to-cheek. The smell of Bucky’s cologne, warm and woody, mixed with the salt on his skin, seemed to cut through the smell of sweat and alcohol and cooking that otherwise dominated the room. It was just him and Bucky, and while part of him wished you were here too to be part of this, he appreciated that it was just Bucky. It felt right.

“I want you to take me home,” Bucky whispered against Steve’s ear. Normally Bucky saying something like that would make Steve worry he was in the midst of a panic attack. There was something completely different about it this time. Something dark and sexy.

Steve took his hand and led him off the dance floor. He settled the check as quickly as he could and the two made their way back out and flagged down a cab.

Bucky kept nosing at Steve’s cheek and trying to initiate a kiss. Steve wasn’t ready for that yet. Not so publicly. It wasn’t Bucky. He’d be the same with you too. Public displays of affection made him feel awkward.

“Stevie,” Bucky teased, nipping at Steve’s earlobe.

“Just be patient,” Steve said, nudging Bucky.

The car pulled up at the front of the Avengers Tower and Steve paid while Bucky tried to drag him out of the back seat.

When they got into the elevator Bucky pushed him up against the wall and kissed him hungrily. Steve couldn’t stop smiling into Bucky’s lips even as the other man fumbled at his belt and dragged him close so their hips touched.

The elevator opened and Bucky practically dragged Steve down to his apartment. “So eager, Buck,” Steve teased as he let Bucky pull him through the door into his apartment.

Bucky’s apartment was always impossibly clean, but pretty homey. The couch was a soft black leather but most everything else was timber. A mixture of stained ash, cedar, and white paint. He had art on the walls. Mostly photography or vector art of cars or motorcycles, but there was a sketch Steve had done of the view down the street from Bucky’s fire escape. It was a recent one and done by memory. Something Steve had drawn in the hopes of prodding Bucky’s memory. There was also a calendar on the wall set on the wrong month with a print of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers.

“I just -“ he looked over to the bedroom. “-you know?”

Steve laughed and began to unbutton Bucky’s shirt. “It’s not like we did that very long ago.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, grabbing the waistband of Steve’s pants and dragging him toward the bedroom. “And it was good. And now I want to do it again.”

Bucky started to kiss Steve’s neck as he unfastened his pants and Steve pushed Bucky’s shirt off. Steve trailed his fingers along the scarring that connected Bucky’s arm to his shoulder. Bucky flinched and took Steve’s hand and moved it down to his side.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky’s neck. “Does it hurt?”

Bucky shook his head. “No… well yeah, always. But not more when you touch it. I just hate it. Don’t want to be reminded of it now.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. He got it. It was a constant brutal reminder of what had happened to him. What he’d lost and how he’d been changed. Steve got sensitive about people pointing out his looks after he had the serum when they ignored him so much before it. The arm and the scarring would be much worse than that.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said and brought his lips to Steve’s. They kissed passionately. Their lips moved against each other’s, as Bucky pulled Steve back towards the bed. Steve unfastened Bucky’s fly and pushed his pants down. When Bucky was down to just his boxer briefs, he pushed Steve back onto the bed and straddled his lap, kissing him hungrily as he ground his hips against Steve’s.

Steve was still fully dressed and his cock began to strain against his pants. He could feel Bucky’s erection with each roll of the other man’s hips. It rubbed against Steve’s and a little wet patch began to form on Bucky’s underwear.

Steve ran his hands down Bucky’s back and gripped his ass, pulling him firmer against him. “Fuck, Steve… I want you…” Bucky groaned.

“I’m yours, Buck,” Steve whispered.

Bucky began to frantically undress Steve, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt and the buckle on his belt. Steve lay back and tangled his hands in Bucky’s hair, letting him take the lead. When Bucky had finally stripped Steve of his clothes, he looked down into his eyes and ran his metal hand over Steve’s chest.

Steve was achingly hard but a little unsure what to do next and it looked like Bucky might be feeling a little lost too. Steve pushed Bucky’s boxers down and wrapped his hand around both their cocks and began to pump them in his hand as they were pressed together.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky groaned. “That feels so good.”

Steve rolled them both over so he was on top. “I want you to feel good,” he whispered and began to kiss Bucky’s neck. Bucky reached over to his bedside table and fumbled around as Steve began to kiss his way down Bucky’s chest. There was a crash as the drawer fell to the ground and Steve looked up startled to see Bucky holding a tube of lubricant up almost triumphantly.

“What do you want?” Steve asked, taking it from Bucky.

“Stretch me,” Bucky said, the hint of pleading in his voice.

Steve nodded and slicked his fingers with the thick gel. Bucky wrapped his arms around his knees, lifting them so Steve had better access to his ass. Steve teased his fingers over Bucky’s tight hole and very slowly began to ease one inside. Bucky closed his eyes and his head fell back with his lips slightly parted. A soft low moan escaped his lips and Steve couldn’t help but admire how beautiful Bucky looked when he let himself enjoy something.

Steve dropped his head down, pulling Bucky’s cock into his mouth. He licked a salty bead of pre-come off the head of Bucky’s cock, savoring the taste of the man he’d been in love with for so long and appreciating the fact he was finally getting to have this. He eased his finger in deeper, moving it in and out as he slowly bobbed his head up and down on Bucky’s cock, testing his own limits as he tested Bucky’s.

Bucky gave himself to his pleasure. Relaxing into it. He squirmed under Steve and moaned loudly. It was happening very quickly. Steve had only gotten his finger into one knuckle when Bucky’s cock began to throb in Steve’s mouth. Steve kept the same steady pace. He wanted Bucky to enjoy this. No pain. No shame. Just pleasure. He moved his finger in and out, pushing it in a little more each time but never forcing it. If Bucky clenched, he’d pull back, when he relaxed, Steve would push in deeper.

He took Bucky’s cock deeper into his throat, gagging a little as he did. His mouth stretched around his thick shaft but he enjoyed it. His own cock was hard and leaking as he pleasured Bucky. Bucky’s moans became panting and his hips started to buck up into Steve’s mouth.

“Steve,” he moaned. “Stevie, I’m gonna come.”

Steve moved a little faster and sucked a little harder and with a loud moan, Bucky arched his back and came, his cock releasing straight down Steve’s throat. There was so much, and Steve swallowed it all, saving the thick and salty mess. He moaned as he pulled off and slid his fingers from Bucky’s ass.

Bucky almost jumped up pulling Steve into a passionate and frantic kiss. “Fuck, Stevie,” he mumbled between kisses. “I wanna do you. Can I?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, Bucky’s lips still firmly on his. “Yeah, Buck. I’d like that.”

Bucky guided Steve onto his back and scrambled down Steve’s body. He quickly slicked the fingers with the lube and dropped down, sucking Steve’s cock. Steve groaned at the warm, wet pressure of Bucky’s mouth. He kept his eyes locked on him, enjoying the view as Bucky sucked up and down his cock. Bucky massaged Steve’s asshole as he bobbed his head up and down on his cock. It sent a warm tingled running through Steve, and his head felt pleasantly fuzzy with it. There was a slight burn as Bucky’s finger eased in. Steve hadn’t been expecting how completely good that would feel, even the slight pain that happened the deeper Bucky pushed his finger was the good kind, like after a good workout. He groaned and began to roll his hips up into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky let him push in deeper and started adding a second finger. The burn was more but Steve enjoyed that too. He moaned loudly, letting himself really experience it.

As Bucky’s fingers moved deeper and faster in and out of Steve’s ass, Steve began to pant and his cock twitched and throbbed. Bucky moaned as it began to leak precum down his throat. Bucky’s fingers touched on this sweet spot inside Steve and Steve gasped and jerked his hips. “Fuck!” I cursed, and he came hard and without warning. His orgasm seemed to start in his gut, something he’d never experienced before. The intensity of it shocked him. Bucky choked and pulled back, spilling Steve’s come on his stomach.

Bucky pulled his finger out and collapsed down on the bed beside Steve.

“That was…” Steve hummed.

“Mmm,” Bucky agreed.

Steve sat up and kissed Bucky’s stomach. “Let’s take a shower.”

Bucky smiled and got up with him. As they went into the bathroom Steve felt warm and grateful that you’d given this time alone. You were right, you all needed that. But still, he was looking forward to tomorrow when it would be all three of you again.

// NEXT

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky #stucky x reader #captain america #the winter soldier #captain america fanfic #the winter soldier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #smut #running to a standstill

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musette22 · 4 years

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You Make My Heart Skip A Beet

You Make My Heart Skip a Beet

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Word count: 3.8k

Rating: Teen and Up

A/N: Based on this lovely prompt by @greyhoundsgirl. I have to be honest here, I’ve never actually seen Top Chef though so I thought it would be safer to make up a new fictional amateur cooking competition which I’ve titled Chef Wars :p

No warnings to speak of, apart from maybe for awful food puns, but it is a bit of a cracky piece, and it’s in Sam POV (poor guy). Hope you enjoy!! 💗 Huge thanks to the amazing @rainbowsandcoconut for brainstorming, food puns and awesome beta’ing, as usual 😘

Read on AO3

Summary:

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

****************************

When Sam and Steve had first been approached about being guest judges on an Avengers-themed special of Chef Wars, they’d spent a full fifteen minutes jumping around the common room in the Tower like a pair of overgrown kids on a sugar high.

Guest judges. On Chef Wars.

It so happens that Sam and Steve watch Chef Wars religiously. In fact, Steve even mentioned this in passing in one or two of his more recent interviews when asked how Captain America likes to spend his downtime, which is probably how the show’s executives had thought to invite them in the first place.

Sam’s love for cooking and cooking shows was passed down to him by his mother Darlene, and he, in turn, passed it on to Captain America – though if you’d told ten-year-old Sam that, he would’ve thought you were nuts. Poor Steve isn’t exactly the culinary sort of guy himself, but once Sam started turning up on his doorstep three nights a week to keep him company and make sure he didn’t sink further into depression, he’d slowly started to enjoy the shows Sam insisted on watching with him. Sam figured the familiarity of the actions and the low stakes of an amateur cooking competition would be perfectly suited to someone trying to integrate into a new century, while still being just exciting enough to hold the attention of an adrenaline junkie like Steve.

And he was right. So now, every Thursday night, the two of them chill on Steve’s couch, yelling at the TV and pretending they‘d do a better job of it than the contestants. Which, to be fair, Sam probably would, but Steve decidedly would not. What Steve lacks in culinary skills, though, he more than makes up for with his crazy supersoldier metabolism, rivaled only by the Other Guy and sometimes Thor, once he’s cracked open the mead. Steve can eat, and he does so with relish.

So needless to say, when they got the invite, they’d both jumped at the chance. Who wouldn’t, when presented with the opportunity to do the thing they did every Thursday night for funsies, but this time for realsies? And after weeks of giddy anticipation, today is finally the day.

Filming day.

The whole thing had gotten off to an excellent start. The sun was shining, Steve had actually been whistling on their way to the studio instead of nervously drumming his fingers on the dashboard (something which got on Sam’s nerves like nothing else), and they’d been offered some quality Italian espresso when they arrived. The show got on the road as soon as they’d gotten a quick tour of the studio, and after lights, camera, action, the contestants were introduced one by one.

There is Bernadette, a Missouri housewife who turned out to be somewhat of a BBQ expert and who reminds Sam of his Aunt Jenna; there’s Bob, a big, burly dude from Kentucky who wouldn’t look amiss on a Pro Wrestling show but who ends up surprising them all with a surprisingly delicate edible flower-dish dedicated to his lovely wife; and Yulia, a tiny, fierce girl from Bulgaria with some mean knife skills who Sam suspects could very well be a distant relative of Natasha’s.

And then there’s Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes is a thirty-one-year-old physical therapist from Brooklyn who’s looking to change careers and get into the restaurant business full time. He has that whole hipster vibe going on: long, meticulously conditioned chestnut hair in a messy top knot, designer stubble, sleeve of – admittedly awesome – tattoos on his left arm. His cool, blue eyes and sharp cheekbones give him a model-like appearance, and yet there’s something soft and disarming about him.

Steve certainly seems to think so, at least.

The moment Barnes came walking through those glass doors, Sam heard Steve suck in a sharp breath at his side. A quick glance at Steve’s slack-jawed expression told Sam all he needed to know, since the dude is about as subtle as a sledgehammer. He’d elbowed Steve in the side until he looked over and pretended to wipe some drool from the corner of his mouth. Steve’s eyes went wide as he hastily mirrored the movement, missing the joke by about fifty yards. Oh, boy.

From that moment onward, Steve’s brain seemed to have gone through a blender, turning it into a rainbow smoothie – which was pretty unfortunate, considering they were going to have to interact with the contestants in a way that was suitable for daytime television.

The thing is, Steve is not exactly what you’d call a people person at the best of times. He’s fine with someone he’s known for a while and feels comfortable with, but with strangers he’s just… a little awkward. Credit where credit’s due, Steve is one of the most loyal, sweet, funny and whip-smart guys Sam has ever known – and let’s not forget stubborn as hell – but he’s also very, very bad at social cues. It’s not his fault, of course. Steve had gone from growing up pretty isolated without any real friends to speak of, to suddenly spending years surrounded only by his army buddies, which wasn’t at all representative for how normal people interacted with each other (Sam knows this from experience).

While Steve’s many social faux-pas are an endless source of entertainment for Sam, he’s not a total asshole, and he has tried to help Steve practice his social skills. Unfortunately, giving him well-meaning advice like “just be yourself” seems to be a sure-fire way to ensure Steve will put his foot in his mouth somehow.

That’s why Steve prefers to put on his Cap persona for public interactions. When he’s Captain America instead of Steve Rogers, all he has to do is look commanding and sort of friendly and say bland things like “I’m very happy to be here” and “You did well, son” and no one would be any the wiser that beneath that righteous exterior, Steve was floundering and wondering when he could reasonably leave whatever social engagement Pepper had sweet-talked him into attending, and head home to the comfort of his armchair and his sketchbook.

For today’s engagement, Steve had wisely adopted this approach as well, and the fact that he was genuinely excited to be there helped to loosen him up a little – so really, it should’ve all been fine.

But then Bucky Barnes from Brooklyn walked into the room and turned his big, blue eyes in Steve’s direction, and Steve promptly seemed to forget who or what a Captain America even was.

So far, Steve has already missed his cue twice, and it’s taken Sam stepping on his toes to get him to focus. To be fair, though, Steve puts in a valiant effort to pull himself together, managing to ooh and aah in all the right places when talking to the other candidates – sheer dumb luck, if you ask Sam. But as Steve’s best friend and confidante, Sam sees right through it. He hasn’t missed the way Steve’s gaze keeps drifting in Barnes’ direction, and coupled with the blush creeping up the back of Steve’s neck whenever Barnes’s eyes meet his, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Cap has got himself a Manhattan-sized crush.

Now, most people probably aren’t aware that Captain America is also attracted to men, but Sam has a feeling that by the end of this episode, that cat will be most definitely out of the closet. Steve’s never purposely hid his sexuality; it was more of a question of it never having come up yet. It sure as hell has come up now.

And what makes this even better is that Barnes is just as bad. He stuttered his way through his introduction, very obviously starstruck at meeting Captain America, but also very obviously gay as hell for him, if the way his eyes lingered on Steve’s chest and thighs is any indication. Sam, for his part, is incredibly amused by it all. Not only does he get to be on the set of his favorite cooking show, he also gets to rib Steve, throwing in as many food puns as he possibly can – most of which go over Steve’s head because he’s too busy drooling over Barnes. Sam’s wit is wasted on his friends.

Then, it’s time to judge. In the first round, the contestants are supposed to make something which represents why they got into cooking in the first place.

Sam can feel Steve practically vibrate with nerves at his side as they walk up to Barnes’ station. Feeling magnanimous, Sam decides to have mercy on his muscly pal and take the lead on this one.

“Mr. Barnes,” he says, giving Barnes an encouraging smile. “Tell us about your dish, if you please.”

“Call me Bucky,” Barnes says, returning the gesture with a quick quirk of his lips.

Next to him, Steve repeats the name in a whisper, most likely unaware that he’s even doing it.

Sam has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

*****

Bucky’s confessional

“I grew up in Brooklyn, as the eldest of five kids. My dad left when I was fifteen, and while I was still in school, my mom had to work three jobs to provide for us all. She wasn’t home much, so it was kind of up to me to make sure dinner was on the table most nights.”

Bucky plucks at the seam of his black skinny jeans, lost in thought. “I think that’s why my specialty is comfort food. Nothing unnecessary, just hearty, nutritious food, y’know?” With a tilt of his head, he adds, “Although since all my siblings moved into their own places I’ve been cooking mostly for myself and my cat, so I’ve been experimenting with adding some twists to my tried and tested recipes.” He laughs, right hand clasping the back of his neck in a bashful gesture. “I’ve had… mixed success. Luckily Alpine has loved all of it. She’s my cat.”

“My first dish today is Irish soda bread with sage butter and Himalayan sea salt,” Bucky continues. “Bread was something we could never have enough of in our household. Five growing kids, y’know? And also, um...” A slight blush creeps its way onto Bucky’s cheeks, his eyes flitting around nervously. “Well, I guess you could say I used to be a bit of a history nerd growing up. I was super interested in World War II, particularly, uh, Captain America.” His blush deepens, spreading upwards from the neckline of his white t-shirt to the tips of his pierced ears.

“I, uh, I basically read every Steve Rogers biography I could get my hands on, which is why I learned to make things like soda bread because, y’know, Steve Rogers was Irish. Is Irish,” he corrects himself. Bucky’s eyes glaze over, taking on a faraway look. “Man, I couldn’t believe it when Cap was found a few years ago,” he marvels, “and alive. I don’t think I slept for a week after I found out.” He stares into space for a moment before shaking himself. He clears his throat, eyes refocusing on the person behind the camera. “Anyway, so when I heard that Chef Wars was doing an Avengers-themed special, I immediately applied because Steve – Cap, I mean- Captain America. Um. Yeah, so Cap mentioned in a few of his interviews that he watches Chef Wars, so I figured there would be a good chance he’d be watching this one too, you know? And then I got the email that I’d been selected and that he was going to be the one judging us, and I just…” Bucky trails off, looking a little faint, the blood draining from his face as quickly as it had risen.

“God, I just can’t believe I’ll finally get to see him in the flesh.” His eyes widen. “In person, I mean," he hastily amends. "And I’m excited about my dishes too, of course. I really hope Cap will like them. And the Falcon. Him, too. Yeah.”

*****

“I made soda bread.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

When Steve puts a piece of bread into his mouth and chews slowly, he sniffs, eyes turning a little watery. “It tastes exactly like my mom’s,” he says in a hushed voice, sounding like he can’t quite believe his taste buds. Sam pats Steve’s back consolingly, before scooping up some sage butter with his own piece of bread and taking an enthusiastic bite.

“Hmm, nice,” he says, giving Barnes an appreciative nod. “And the butter? You make that yourself, too?”

“You butter believe it,” Barnes replies, then immediately looks horrified, like he can’t believe he made a pun that bad on national television.

Sam cackles, holding out his fist for Barnes to bump. When Barnes has recovered enough to return the gesture with his left hand, Steve stares longingly at their touching hands, before letting his gaze trail over the tattoos on Barnes’ exposed forearm. Since he's not exactly subtle about it, Barnes catches him looking and gives Steve a tentative smile when their eyes meet. Steve chokes on absolutely nothing and launches into an impromptu coughing fit. “Crumbs,” he wheezes, thumping a massive fist on his massive chest, “wrong pipe.”

Sam just smirks at him, before turning back to Barnes. “That was delicious,” he tells him. “Can’t wait for your next dish, man.”

“Really, really, good,” Steve chimes in once he’s caught his breath. “Well done, Bucky.”

Barnes goes as red as a tomato, eyes trained on the floor as he awkwardly shifts from foot to foot. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Steve, please,” Steve implores.

Barnes bites his lip, looking up at Steve through his lashes. “Thanks, Steve.”

Sam's pretty sure Steve stops breathing altogether right then. Christ, it’s like there’s an electrical current running between the two of them, the air crackling with it. Thunderbolts and lighting, very very nauseating.

Sam claps his hands. “Right,” he says loudly, “moving on to the next contestant now… Yulia, what have you prepared for us?”

*****

By the time the second round rolls around, Steve has had a series of meltdowns and Sam has spent precious time he could’ve been exploring the set and taking pics for his mom on talking Steve out of a bathroom stall. Damn, he’s a good friend. It takes all of Sam’s VA-honed therapist skills to convince Steve that he’s doing fine, he’s not embarrassing himself, and no one but Sam has noticed Steve’s massive heart boner for Barnes yet. Sam actually isn’t entirely positive about that last one – or the first two for that matter – but Steve doesn’t need to know that. There are still two rounds to go.

In the second round, contestants are asked to make a dish that represents who they are as a person.

While the contestants are cooking up a metaphorical storm, Sam and Steve walk around their stations to chat with everyone some more, camera crew on their heels. Steve manages to get out at least three complete sentences, and Bernadette and Bob are too in awe of him to notice the few times he says something that doesn’t actually make any sense. Yulia has given no indication that she even knows who either of them are, and Sam can practically feel the relief radiating off of Steve. He guesses that’s part of why he and Natasha get on so well.

When they round on Barnes’ station, Barnes has just started seasoning his dish. There’s a checkered dishcloth slung over his right shoulder and a focused look on his face, which turns into one of low-key stress the moment he spots Steve and Sam coming towards him. Leaning his hip against the counter, Sam settles in to watch Steve make a fool of himself. He's not disappointed.

“Wow,” Steve says inanely, gesturing in the direction of Barnes’ hands. “That’s- you’re- you’re really good at that.”

Barnes pauses his turning of the peppermill to give Steve a slightly panicked look. “At… grinding?”

At Steve’s strangled cough, Barnes seems to realize what he just said, his bewildered expression morphing into one of abject mortification. The poor guy looks like he’d very much like the ground to swallow him whole right about now.

Honestly, these two deserve each other.

When they've finished chatting to everyone and it’s time to taste, Barnes is asked to explain his dish and how it represents him. He seems to have pulled himself together somewhat since their last encounter, his stance a little more confident now and his eyes only drifting to Steve’s pecs every other sentence.

“I’m a simple guy,” he tells them, somehow managing to make it sound genuine instead of cliché. “I enjoy the little things in life. I like taking care of people, making them feel good and comfortable, and I think that’s reflected in my cooking. I enjoy making comfort food, the hale and hearty stuff.” He licks his lips, meaningfully adding, “Although, don’t get me wrong. I do indulge occasionally. I’ve got my guilty pleasures same as everyone else, y'know?” That last part is directed at Steve, who nods dazedly, like he knows exactly what Barnes means. Gross.

“So I guess you could say you’re just… arugula guy?” Sam grins, cheerfully ignoring the growing sexual tension.

Barnes stares at him for a beat, and then snorts. “You know what?” he says, returning Sam's grin, “the s’more I get to know you, the s’more I like you.”

Sam has a very real moment where he thinks he might actually fall in love with this guy himself. It’s only Steve’s doe-eyed look that keeps him from proposing to Barnes there and then. Okay, and maybe the fact that Barnes is clearly smitten with Steve, and also Sam is straight and very happily dating Nat, who would not hesitate to gut him if he decided to elope with some pasty hipster dude.

Barnes’ dish – mac and cheese with black truffle and locally sourced cheeses and fancy cuts of bacon – is mouthwateringly good, and Sam tells him as much. Using appropriate words to do so. You know, like a normal person.

Steve, on the other hand, moans loudly around his bite and then, mouth still full, he blurts, “That’s exactly what I thought you’d taste like.”

In the painfully awkward silence that follows, Steve and Barnes blush so hard the combined heat of their flaming cheeks could probably power most of New York City. This time, Sam can’t contain his laughter. He crows as he gleefully slaps his thighs, and even some of the crew is hiding having a hard time staying professional in the face of such blatant dumbassery.

Shaking his head, Sam grabs Steve by the bicep and herds him towards the backroom. “Come on, Casanova,” he says. “Let’s get you some ice for those burns.”

*****

For dessert, Barnes goes all out.

He actually makes Captain America cake pops, shaped and decorated like Steve’s shield with blue, red and white frosting. Steve’s eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees them. Barnes explains how they’re “sort of an adult version” of normal cake pops, which makes Sam raise an eyebrow. He’s been on the internet. He unfortunately has seen adult versions of all kinds of Captain America paraphernalia. Fortunately, Barnes just means that his cake pops have some sort of liquor in the center, “for a punch, you know?”

The starry-eyed look Steve gives Barnes clearly conveys just how clever he thinks that is, and Sam surreptitiously rolls his eyes. No game whatsoever, either of them.

“I’ve never had a cake pop before,” Steve says, carefully picking up one of the treats and inspecting it curiously.

“Oh,” Barnes says, blinking at him. “Well, normally you’d eat them in one go, but these are a bit bigger than usual because of the shape of the shield, so you probably won’t be able to fit -”

The rest of his sentence sort of peters off into a stunned silence as Steve proceeds to stick a whole-ass giant cake pop in his mouth in one go, letting out an appreciative grunt as he chews and then swallows.

Barnes’s mouth goes slack. “Oh my god,” he breathes, his eyes glazing over, and Sam cracks up. Again.

The cake pops are actually surprisingly good, despite their garish (sorry, Steve) appearance, and then it’s time to retreat and deliberate. As was to be expected, Steve has a crisis of conscience.

“I can’t vote for him just because he made my mom’s soda bread and he practically raised his baby sisters by himself and he cooks for his cat and he has pretty eyes, Sam!” he laments, voice muffled into his massive forearms. Sam makes the filming crew promise not to air this bit. It takes some doing, but finally Sam manages to convince Steve that Barnes’s food was simply the best. Better than all the rest. He even does a little Tina impression to get his point across, and that seems to do it.

When they announce the winner, Barnes smiles so wide it transforms his whole face and makes Steve melt into a puddle of Gü.

Sam has to nudge Steve again to get him to say his line, since he’s too busy mooning over Barnes to notice the autocue changing. “Ah, yes!” Steve says loudly. “First prize is a substantial sum of money, sponsored by Tony Stark, which we hope will go towards opening your own restaurant–"

“… and a weekend stay at Avengers Tower, also sponsored by Tony!”

Steve’s head whips around to him in surprise. Sam winks at him. “Including a private tour of the premises by none other than Captain America himself. Isn’t that right, Steven?”

A beat of silence, and then Steve.exe starts back up. "Right,” he nods, drawing out the word. “Yes. That’s right.” Sam pats his arm. Good man.

Stepping forward, Steve takes Barnes’ hand and shakes it slowly. “Congratulations, Bucky. I look forward to seeing you again soon," he says, adding, after a quick, bracing inhale, “and maybe when you visit, I can make my mom’s stew for you? If- if you like?”

Sam feels a surge of pride. Look at Steve go, being something almost in the vicinity of smooth.

Barnes laps it up, beaming at Steve. “I’d really love that,” he says in a low voice, still holding Steve's hand. “I’m sure you’re delicious.” His eyes widen. “It’s delicious. The stew – not- not-" Abruptly, Barnes stops babbling, then seems to come to a decision. “Oh, fuck it,” he mutters, and pulls Steve towards him, crashing their mouths together in a scorching kiss.

Over the noise of the assembled crowd's whoops and cheers, Sam gleefully calls, “And that, my friends, is a wrap!”

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #shrunkyclunks #meet cute #fluff #top chef #chef bucky barnes #my fic #my writing #ao3 #sam wilson pov

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ofstarsandfireflies · 3 years

Text

Ahh the 90’s

God, I feel old.

Here’s a little enemies to friends to lovers movie!

They were both adults, even if they didn’t act like it most of the time.

They were both friends, even though they’d never met each other face to face.

They were both in failing relationships, and could find solace in talking to one another about them.

That’s how it started to mean more to them, like they were cheating on their partners without anything scandalous being read or sent.

Each was a secret who knew everything about them, more than anyone else would care to know.

And each liked that they kept their identities secret from the other.

Only, that wasn’t really the case.

Through their messenger, they could talk with the other about anything.

Outside of that though, it felt like Tony and Stephen were at war with one another.

They were both in the hero business and Tony’s name was synonymous with the Avengers brand, which came with a flurry of fans and reporters wherever they went.

And where they were usually found was wherever Stephen was, storming in to take over when he had things completely under control and just making the mess worse.

And the fans would get in on the rivalry too, fighting amongst themselves about who was better suited to protect this world if it came down to Iron Man or the Sorcerer Supreme, or who would win in a fight between them.

Stephen didn’t care for anyone’s opinion, and neither did Stark when he was cornered and asked the exact questions his fans wanted answered, Stephen just glaring at television screen, unable to get away from him out of work now days too.

No, instead he’d open up the messenger he had on his laptop at 7pm on the dot and would talk to his friend about his ‘worker friend’ making life difficult for him until ten.

His friend had problems of his own, being a boss of a company and having some uptight subordinate trying to make him look bad.

They had a lot in common, including relationship problems.

They didn’t like who they were with their partners, or how they had to act with them, and neither felt respected in the relationship.

Stephen’s friend said he was was dating a worker who was just doing so for his money, but was still sticking with it because that was the only reason anyone would date him.

Tony’s friend was in a relationship with a high school sweetheart, which had soured over the years because his partner wanted to ‘expand their horizons’

It was nice having someone to talk to.

Someone who understood them and liked talking with them without the knowledge of who they really were and what they really did for a living.

And while they had agreed to never give specifics about themselves or to ever meet in person, that was exactly what they were planning after Stephen and Tony’s latest argument had resulted in casualties and an extremely bad break up straight after.

They were excited to see one another, to talk and try to help out with each other’s problems.

But when Tony rocked up to the cafe they’d agreed upon to meet at and was so nervous to go inside he annoyed Rhodey to go check for him to make sure the friend he would most likely ask to marry him straight away was there, Rhodey told him Stephen Strange was reading the exact book Tony’s friend had told him would give him away.

Rhodey had to be joking.

So Tony went to check for himself.

And sure enough, Stephen Strange sat at the numbered table where his fiend had told him he would sit, reading the book he told him to look out for.

All this time he’d been talking with Stephen and hadn’t even realised it.

So, saying goodnight to Rhodey, Tony decided to leave him there.

Stephen sat and waited, checking his watch every now and then and wondering what could be keeping his friend.

Ten minutes past their agreed time, someone asked if they could borrow the seat opposite him and he stopped them from taking it.

Twenty minutes passed and his second refill had been drained.

Then, at half an hour past, Tony Stark walked through the door and stood in line for a coffee.

Having nowhere else to go and no way to hide himself, Stephen held the book up a little higher to his face in hopes Tony hadn’t seen him.

But, of course, he had.

And he came over to the table Stephen was sitting at and plonked down in the seat opposite him.

Stephen could not believe the nerve of this guy, especially after the long day he had had.

Tony didn’t really care what Stephen thought of him.

They had their differences here but online they were still friends.

It was when he tried to explain their situation and Stephen snapped at him that he truly saw how he viewed him.

So, Tony stood up from his seat and left, leaving Stephen to wait for the man who would never show.

And the next day, there was a message from his friend.

From Stephen.

Asking him why he never showed, telling him how long he has waited, and even bringing up the ‘ worker friend’ who came to the cafe, who Tony now knew to be himself.

Strangely, the way Stephen worded how guilty he felt after snapping at him, sounded like an apology.

One Tony accepted.

So, he continued their online friendship while also trying to be friends with Stephen outside of it.

It wasn’t easy, but he eventually wore him down to be on at least speaking terms with him when he found out the good doctor was sick with a cold and needed some cheering up.

Stephen told him about the online relationship he had with a stranger somewhere in New York City and how he’d fallen for them.

Tony tried telling him this guy could be anyone, literally anyone.

They could be fat.

Stephen doesn’t care about that.

They could be an Avengers fanboy.

Stephen doesn’t care about that either.

They could be Rogers.

Stephen cracks a smile and says that would be a deal breaker, anyone would be better than Rogers.

Tony innocently asks him if it would be a deal breaker if it were him.

Stephen just laughs and tells him to stop messing around.

Every day they meet up to talk about Stephen’s online friend, and every day Stephen feels more and more confused.

He’s been crushing on this online persona for months now, he still wants to meet him even after he stood him up, but whenever he thinks about him, it’s Tony’s face he sees.

He can’t help it.

Tony is funny and witty and doesn’t try to be anyone else around him but himself.

It took a lot of digging through that massive ego to bring him out, but Stephen’s glad to have met him and to call him his friend.

A friend he’d want to be more with if he hadn’t already met someone.

And the day his friend finally agrees to meet up with him, is the day Tony tries to ask him if they’d been friends earlier, would he have gone out on a date with him instead of this online guy.

Because if Stephen had’ve said yes, Tony would have been the luckiest guy in the world.

Stephen doesn’t answer.

He can’t answer.

He needs to go and meet his friend.

And Tony just nods.

And smiles.

And walks away.

It’s a bright summer afternoon and Stephen is waiting in the park, five minutes early before the time they had agreed upon in case he had been keeping him waiting.

And all Stephen can think about is the last thing Tony said to him.

He shouldn’t be thinking about Stark.

He should be thinking about...

About...

Tony.

Tony was here, right on time.

And it all finally clicked into place.

It was him.

It had been him all along and Stephen was just so happy and frustrated and relieved all at the same time he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Because, even after everything, he’d wanted it to be Tony.

Quotes -

I had a gut feeling you would be online now. “Hi.” I can give you advice. I’m great at advice.

If only you could help.

Is it about love? “Please say no.”

“No, how cute is that?”

Tony and Stephen talking online.

“She’s not as nice as she seems on television.”

“You met her?”

“Yeah, boy, she’s a pill!”

“Probably aint as fine as she looks on TV either.”

“Oh no, no, she’s beautiful. But. She’s a pill.”

Stephen talking to Wong about Tony

“Can you see her? Can you see her?!”

“Yeah…”

“And?”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is! I knew she would be! She had to be! She had to be!”

“You know what? She look…I mean, she almost has the same colouring as…that Kathleen Kelly person.”

“Kathleen Kelly of the little bookstore?”

“Why not? You said you thought she was attractive.”

“Absolutely, yes, why not? Who cares about Kathleen Kelly?”

“Well, if you don’t like Kathleen Kelly…I can tell you right now…you ain’t gonna like this girl.”

“Why not?”

“Because it IS Kathleen Kelly. So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re gonna let her wait there all night?”

“Yes, yes I am. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Goodnight, Kevin. I’ll see you in the morning.”

When Tony realises who hos friend has been this entire time.

“You are nothing but a suit.”

“…That’s my cue…Goodnight.”

Stephen snapping at Tony

“Why did you stop by again? I forget.”

“I wanted to be your friend.”

“Oh.”

“I knew it wasn’t possible. What can I say, sometimes a guy just wants the impossible…can I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“What happened with the guy at the cafe.”

“Nothing.”

“But you’re crazy about him?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why don’t you run off with him? What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t actually know him.”

Enemies becoming friends.

“You know, sometimes I wonder.”

“What?”

“Well, if I hadn’t been Fox Books and you hadn’t been The Shop around the Corner, and you and I had just…met….”

“I know.”

“Yeah. I would have asked for your number. And I wouldn’t have been able to wait 24 hours before calling you up and saying: “Hey, how about some coffee…or drinks or dinner…or a movie…for as long as we both shall live?”

“Joe…”

“And you and I would never have been at war. And the only thing we’d fight about would be which video to rent on a Saturday night.”

“Well, who fights about that?”

“Well, some people. Not us.”

“We would never.”

“If only.”

Friends becoming lovers.

Talk to Me

Tony and Stephen are having issues in their relationships and talking to each other, and falling in love with one another, anonymously via an instant messenger

January, February

I’m having difficulty with adding the links for the previous nights for some reason, no matter what I do tumblr thinks the links are broken. Hopefully I get it sorted out by tomorrow 😊

#ironstrange #strangeiron #osaf’s movie night

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

Text

(requested by calligomiles)

“Hey, General, can you try something for me?” Gummy came home one day with a box from the kitchen. “My friend made a cake, and it’s really good, so I brought you a piece.”

“Huh. Thanks, Rada.” Zima took the box and the fork the chef provided and popped it open. Inside was a rather...strange-looking slice of cake. The form itself was essentially perfect - two layers of cake with some strawberry jam or something like it gluing them together and evenly frosted along the outside - but the deep shade of purple on everything was rather disorienting. What flavors were the components supposed to be? Were the black flecks in the cake itself fruit or chocolate? Nothing in Ursus, or even Rhodes Island, looked like this…

Still, she knew better than to take appearances at face value, and if her gourmand friend thought it was good, who was she to refuse trying it? Sonya stabbed into it, pulled off the front corner, and took the bi- WHOA. “Your friend made this?” She asked, coping with the rapturous delight with her usual composure.

“Yeah! Do you like it?” Gummy came back from putting away her vaul- shield and fighting pan, but as soon as she did, she knew the answer. “I’ve watched her cook, and I don’t know how she does it. It’s like nothing else, right?”

“...I want to meet her. Who is she?”

Rada smiled, but it was rather strained. “Um, well, I think you’ve probably heard of her...Blue Poison, the Sniper?”

“The toxicologist?” Zima looked at the fork in her hand and swallowed. Hard. “She bakes?”

“Yeah, and she’s really sweet as a person, too. I don’t get why people are so scared of her...well, I guess there’s rumors that go around, but they aren’t true.”

The general thought about what she’d heard, for the first time from a critical perspective - that her saliva was a critical component in her darts’ poison, that she coated anything she touched in toxins that could kill a person in moments, that she asked people to touch her so she could eliminate her competition and finally be with the Doctor...and realized just how much bullshit she’d accidentally swallowed without thinking about it. “They couldn’t be, and even if they were, I’m sure the baking takes care of any lingering toxins. I want you to introduce us - invite her over for dinner or something before the end of the week.”

“Yes, General!” Rada’s smile brightened; she loved when she got orders she was going to act on anyway. “If she’s free tomorrow, would that be too soon?”

“No, if she’s free, that should be fine. Thank you, Rada.”

The chef saluted her. “Конечно, товарищ генерал!”

“...Is this whole slice for me?” Zima looked at the rest of it, wondering if Anna or Rosalind might want some. “There’s enough to split.”

“As you wish, General! I’ll go ask them.” With that, Gummy went off, leaving Sonya to her thoughts...and another bite of the cake. It was given to her first, after all.

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

Blue Poison sighed, watching the dessert table with the normal degree of disappointment. Usually, only two or three portions were taken from her contributions - those being the Doctor’s, Gummy’s, and Glaucus’ - which meant she often had leftovers, and it always made her dream of the days her cakes barely lasted half an hour after she made them. One of a few things she missed from home, if she was honest, but there was no point in thinking of going back there…

There was a tap on her shoulder, and she jumped. “Oh, Gummy. Sorry, I was just...thinking. Do you need something?”

“I took a piece of your cake to my friends like I said, and they all loved it! Leto and Istina had to go on a mission, but the General and I were wondering if you’d like to eat dinner with us tonight. I’m making waffles!”

“Waffles for dinner?” The Anura smiled; Gummy had a way of making that happen. “That sounds delightful. What time are you expecting me?”

She shrugged. “I’ll start cooking 1800ish? But really any time after work is fine; if you come earlier, it’s just more time for us to hang out!”

“I think I’ll head over after I change out of this...Have I met ‘the General’ before?”

“I don’t think so.” The Ursus replied. “I’m pretty sure she’d remember meeting you.”

Blue raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“You remind me of her favorite UFC fighter, so I think you’d stick in her mind pretty easily. Oh, actually, I also came back here for some scones. Gotta run, talk to you tonight!” And there she went.

“Hmm...Dinner with Gummy and her friend.” The Anura looked at her muffin tin before nodding to herself. “I know just what to bring.”

A few hours later, after helping with dinner and heading to her room for a change of clothes, Blue Poison found the USSGG’s suite and knocked. A bright Ursan voice called from beyond it, “I’ll be right there!” Sure enough, Rada was less than a minute later. “Hi, Blue! I’m glad you showed up sooner rather than later~”

“It’s been awhile since someone’s invited me somewhere, so I got kind of excited. Is your General-”

“Hey, Rada, is she-” Zima emerged from the back room, already in her pajamas, and standing in the doorway across from her was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. “...Evening.”

Blue waved with her fingers, as there was a tray of cupcakes in her arms. “Good evening. I hope I’m not overdressed.”

“Oh, it’s fine! The General doesn’t really have anything else that’s really casual-”

“Rada, could you take the cupcakes to the table for her?” Sonya, in spite of herself, was blushing from the combination of awe and embarrassment. “Do you want something to drink, Miss Blue?”

She nodded. “Water will be fine, General.”

“You can call me Sonya; I’ve told Rada she doesn’t have to call me that anymore, but she insists.”

“You’ll always be my General, General!” Gummy sing-songed. “I’ll get the drinks; feel free to sit anywhere, Blue!”

After standing awkwardly for a moment, the Anura sat on the couch. “Thank you. My friends called me Azure back home, if we’re using first names here.”

“Azure, huh? That’s a pretty...cool name.” For some reason, Zima found herself leaning into the tough girl persona she’d perfected in her school days. Maybe once dinner started, she could let it drop.

“Thank you.” Now they were both blushing. “Sonya is, too. Gum- Rada said you liked my cake?”

Thank God, something to talk about. “I’ve never had something so sweet that tasted so natural. Most of the desserts we had back home were just fruit, but chocolate and strawberry together was something I’ve never tried. I’m glad you brought more with you.”

“Guests usually made dessert for the evening where I’m from. It’s how I learned to bake as well as I did.”

“I imagine so,” she agreed. “You seem like someone who’d have a lot of friends.”

Azure sighed. “I did, but...some things happened.”

“Ah...” Shit, she’d made it awkward.

“I have water!” Gummy emerged from the kitchen with glasses for each of them. “Oh, and something a bit stronger, too, just in case!”

The general blinked. “Rada, isn’t that the vodka Natalya got you for your birthday?”

“Yep! I thought tonight was as good a night as any to try it, don’t you think?”

“Vodka?” The Anura looked from one Ursus to the other. “That’s a popular Ursan alcohol, yes? I’ve never tried it before.”

The chef set the tray she was holding down, opened the bottle, and poured each of them a shot. “Yep! It doesn’t do a lot for us, but apparently other people think it’s really strong!”

“Interesting...Cheers.” They clinked shot glasses, and Blue drank it like a normal drink - which meant she very quickly started coughing.

“Are you okay, Azure?” The name really did roll off her tongue...hmm. Come to think of it, didn’t Anura have- No, brain, not the time to think about that. “The idea is to get it as far back into your throat as possible so it burns less.”

She nodded, downing half a cup of water soon after. “Guh~ I’ll know for the next one.”

“You want another?” Gummy cocked her head, already filling another round.

“I do.” Azure lightly slapped her face on both sides. “But only one more.”

Clink! Round 2 went down much better, although she immediately felt it as Rada went back to the kitchen to start cooking. Zima noticed when she picked up her water and was visibly shaking. “Feeling okay?”

“Mmhmm. Just a little woozy...”

“Alright. Let me know if that changes.” The general stretched her arms above her head and yawned. “So uh...” Damn, what to talk about?

Blue was already two steps ahead, apparently. “Gummy told me that I look like your favorite fighter. ‘Zat true?”

“She said that? I don’t think so; your hair’s similar, but outside of that, not seeing a resemblance.”

“Aww.” The Anura pouted. “That’s a shame. I thought you’d think I was cute.”

...Sonya only had one response to that. “I never said you weren’t; you just don’t look like Jolanta.”

“So you think I’m cute?” Azure leaned towards her, holding herself up with her arms and tilting her head to one side. It definitely looked like a frog poised to jump.

“Yeah?” Sticking to her guns. “I like your pigtails.”

She giggled. “Thanks~ You’re pretty cute, too.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Whaaaat?” As it turned out, Blue held alcohol about as well as a sponge as it’s being squeezed. “Your girlfriend hasn’t told you that before?”

Sonya shook her head. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh...Does that mean you’re single~”

“I’m not dating anyone.” The Anura hopped towards her. “Azure, what are you doing?”

More giggling. “Your voice cracked.”

“Hey, do you guys want your waffles thick and fluffy or flat and crispy?”

“Flat!” Both called back in unison. Blue hopped forward again, now only a cushion away. “Just like us~”

Zima sighed. “Look, Azure, you seem nice and all, but I’ve known you like five minutes, so slow your roll.”

“You don’t like me?”

“What? No, I do, I just think this isn’t the way to start.” The Anura retreated, hopping backwards. “Azure...Come back.”

She did. “I just want a hug~ Is that too much?”

“No, a hug is fine.” The Ursus stood up, and Blue leaped to her feet and into her arms.

“Yay.” Azure rested her head against Sonya’s shoulder. “You didn’t ask if I was gonna poison you~”

Zima smirked. “I know that’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“You do?” Her arms settled a little lower along the general’s back.

“It’s obvious you wouldn’t.” One of the Ursus’ hands found its way to Blue’s hair. “You’re not the type to endanger your friends like that.”

Azure nodded. “I’m not...You’re so sweet, Sonya~”

“I’m just being honest with you.”

“Yeah, but...” A tear found its way to Zima’s shoulder. “I miss having friends to hug.”

The general patted the back of her head. “Well, you know where to find us. Rada’s a hugger, too.”

“Mmm. You’re willing to share?”

“I-” The approval caught in her throat. “I...hmm.”

Blue’s eyes, still a bit watery, lit up at the hesitation. “Is that a no?”

“...Maybe. You don’t mind, do you?” She smelled the way a candle called ‘birthday cake’ would, somehow.

“One’s enough for me.” The Anura pulled back to look her in the eye. “Sonya...”

The Ursus smiled back at her. “Yes, Azure?”

“Waffles are ready!” Gummy called from the kitchen.

“...I’ll tell you after dinner.” She poked her nose with a finger. “Shall we?”

Zima let go of the embrace, but immediately after doing so she took her hand and led her to the dining room, both smiling more brightly than they had since arriving at Rhodes Island.

#arknights #blue poison (arknights)#zima (arknights)#gummy (arknights)#we uh...we might come back to this #there's a twist i was thinking of pulling #but it can wait while we knock out some other requests #calligo i think you'll know what i mean #arknights fic

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shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years

Text

A Picture is a Poem Without Words

Chapter 3

A/N: Swearing. A lot more setting up the basic background of the plot. The museums listed are real museums. Gifs by @nomoregoldfish and @gif-hunts-for-you

‘Thoughts’

“Spanish”

The next morning Blix woke up lying on her stomach, her face buried into a very soft pillow. She became aware of slight tickling situation. It took her a second to realize it was a hand, the fingers tracing over her various scars.

“That tickles, handsome,” She whispered as she blearily opened her eyes, as she turned toward him.

She reached for the sheets and pulled it up to cover her naked chest as the chill of the room hit her. She looked him over as he rested his hand onto her hip and watched his eyes roam over her skin, pausing at various scars.

“Surely, not all of these are from work, are they gorgeous?” He asked with a frown.

“No. Not all of them are from work. Many are from my traumatic childhood that I am not quite ready to divulge,” She explained quietly as she tried not to think too heavily on the memories that tried to creep to the forefront of her mind.

He nodded once and said, “I can understand that. Maybe one day I’ll share my past with you as well.”

She smiled softly and stretched, wincing when she felt the aches and pains from last night make their appearance.

“Last night really happened eh? Guess I wasn’t that hard to get after all?” She conceded as she shifted onto her back.

“I wouldn’t say that. Most women tend to become putty within 5 minutes of meeting me. You made me chase after you and work for it,” He commented as he dragged her closer to him. “It was a bit exhausting.”

“Oh yes. How terrible it must be to have women and men alike fall for you at the drop of a hat, Pacho. What a horrid life you lead,” She teased him as she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Truly. It’s awful. Can’t have a moment to myself at all,” He joked as well, with a chuckle.

They fell into a comfortable silence, and she almost fell back to sleep when she suddenly heard the sounds of rain pattering against the windows.

“Lovely. That will be fun returning home in,” She said with a sigh.

“Gilberto and Miguel will be here in an hour. They wish to talk out the details and finalize the deal. So, the storm may have passed by then,” Pacho replied as he sat up. “I had my men buy you a change of clothes, we should probably shower.”

Blix nodded her head and sat up as well. Her shoulder gave a twinge of pain at the change of pressure and she rotated her arm a bit to work out the kink. He glanced over at her as she quietly groaned as it continued to cause her pain.

He motioned for her to follow him and as she does, he leads her into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and allowed the temperature to heat up before stepping in, pulling her in with him. They washed their hair quickly, and as he gathered body wash into his hands, he gently began to massage it on her shoulders. He found a couple of knots and softly worked them out. She couldn’t help the moan of content as he worked out a particularly large knot. Once her shoulders had fully relaxed, they finished up their showers and stepped out. She dressed in the clothes that was provided, a camisole and some jeans, and new underwear/bra.

Once they were dressed, a light lunch was ordered for them both, and as they ate, Gilberto and Miguel appeared. They walked in and sat across from them in the living room.

She took a couple more bites of her sandwich, surveying both men before her. She finished it and took the initiative to start the conversation.

“So, shall we begin with your demands, or mine?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and glancing between the two.

“Please, tell us what you wish from us first and we shall see if we can work with them. Pacho told us some of it, but believed there were others?” Gilberto inquired leaning forward; elbows propped on his knees.

“I need assurances from the both of you that your men, will not interfere with my work. That means no dragging me to your places. No Marta or any other child of yours, to spy on me at work, as the first condition,” She began.

“Second, I am trying to gather info on art thieves, and various other crimes. I need to know who is moving what. What is on the market. That sort of thing. My bosses think that there are criminals selling art on the black market to fuel communism,” She continued with an eye roll at the last part. “I believe there’s something bigger going on. I just need proof of it.”

“I do not mind creating a deal for you with the government. Does it make my skin crawl to be even considering this nonsense? Yes. But you are far better than Escobar and his men who are absolute freaks,” She concluded taking a sip of her iced tea.

They both chuckled a bit at her and Gilberto conceded, “Those are acceptable conditions my dear. As Pacho told you previously, we do not wish to be in the cocaine business forever. We know that it’s only a matter of time before Escobar and his cartel are taken down. We want to be at the top, for a time, and do the bare minimum of prison time, before continuing our life.”

“Does everyone, aka all four of you, agree to this?” She confirmed with the three of them.

“Yes, and Chepe is aware of the plan as well and agrees as well,” Pacho verified as he lit up a cigarette.

There was something in the way he spoke and refused to make eye contact that made her somewhat doubt that. She, however, was not going to push the subject, just in case she was wrong.

“Okay. We can iron out full details in the future. This is all predicated on the idea that the Medellin Cartel will be gone, and as of right now, that is not the case. So, write down everything you want, and when the time comes, I will do what I can,” She assured with a nod. “Shall we shake on it?”

She held her hand out to them, to seal the deal. They nodded and Gilberto shook her hand firmly. As she moved to shake Miguel’s he held her hand and threatened lightly, “Remember Miss Lage, this also means that you do not rat on us. It would be such a shame, to see such a pretty face die because you didn’t respect us or show us loyalty.”

She cleared her throat, shoving the panic that tried to appear back down and shook his hand once.

“Now then, we have business to attend to. Pacho? We shall see you this afternoon, yes?” Miguel asked his tone doing a 180° as he spoke to him.

Pacho nodded and showed them out. Blix stood up and dusted herself off. Once they had left, Pacho walked back over to her.

“I will take you home now, and then in a few days, I was thinking about coming around and maybe we can chit chat over any information we find?” Pacho suggested as he stood before her.

“Sounds good to me. You do have something other than your motorcycle, right?” She inquired as the sound of the rain grew louder and harsher.

He chuckled lowly and nodded his head in response. She grabbed her things, and he handed her a jacket, that was slightly too big. As she put it on, she realized it was one of his, as it smelled just like him. She smiled to herself for a moment and then followed him out. He led her downstairs to the parking garage of the hotel, where a red thunderbird waited for us.

She snorted loudly as she looked at it, causing Pacho to look over at her and raise an eyebrow.

“A Thunderbird? Really? Really nailing that ‘bad boy” persona eh?” She teased as he opened the door for her.

“Hm. But you like that persona, no?” He hummed back pressing a kiss to her lips, as she stepped into the car.

She just shook her and buckled in as he got in on the driver’s side. The drive to her home took a few minutes longer due to the blinding sheets of rain, but when they arrived, she told him goodbye and ran inside, unlocking her door as fast as possible.

She closed the door behind her, and shook off the raindrops, as she took off the jacket and her shoes. She set her things down on the table by the door before heading over to her answering machine to check for any messages.

No messages played. She sighed in relief and then called Jacque at the bar, to see if he wanted her to come in tonight due to the heavy rains. He told her to not bother and enjoy her night off, since the rain was meant to last well into the night, meaning hardly anyone would be coming in.

She made her way into her office and looked over files. She looked over at her crime board, aka the entire left wall of her office. She read over some case files, trying to make more connections, and fill in more blanks.

Shipments of art meant for the Museo Nacional de Colombia in Bogota, Antioqua Museum in Medellin, and Museum of Colonial Art and Religious la Merced in Cali, have gone missing. However, the biggest concern was the heist done at the Gold Museum in Bogota. 20 crates full of gold artifacts, all valued at hundreds of millions of dollars, missing. There were rumors that there were buyers located in Medellin, but the sellers were hiding out somewhere in Cali for the time being.

Every time they got close to figuring out who was selling them, and where they may have hidden the art, they disappear. Blix suspected that there was a high possibility that there was spy amidst her team.

She spent the next couples of hours going over her stack of files, noting details of each one that she found somewhat important. It wasn’t until there was a large crack of thunder that she looked up from her work. She glanced over at the clock and noted it was after 6pm. She stretched, before going into the kitchen to make herself something to eat. Her dinner consisted of some chicken and pasta drizzled with alfredo sauce.

She quietly ate and put away the leftovers before going back to work for a couple more hours. It wasn’t until about 11pm before she stopped for the night and went upstairs to change, sliding under her covers as soon as she was in comfortable clothing.

The next morning, she woke up and as she stepped out to pick up the newspaper, she noticed a yellow manilla folder peeking out of her mailbox. She pulled it out, looking around suspiciously. She slipped back inside, tossing the newspaper onto her coffee table. She flipped it over and saw the words “For your eyes only” in Spanish.

She walked into her kitchen and stepped up to her kitchen island; opening it after getting settled onto one of the seats.

She shook out the contents of the envelope, and out came a handwritten note along with a stack of photos.

“It appears you have spy in your midst, lovely. Do not trust this person with anymore information. I look forward to speaking with you in greater detail, in a few days. -Pacho”

She looked at the photos and saw that it was the one person she didn’t personally hire. It was someone that the ambassador had recommended and that her boss forced her to hire because of his political ties. He was the son of one of the senators here in Colombia, and stated he had an interest in law enforcement.

She glowered at the images before her and had to take a deep breath to calm herself down. On the back of one of the images there was a name written down: Augustus König. She looked at the name with wide eyes. She leaned over and grabbed her satellite phone. She dialed the one person she knew on her team that wouldn’t betray her.

“Hello?” A male voice came through after the phone rang twice.

“Theo. I have a lead but I need for this to stay between us,” She began. “Look up the name: Augustus König. Don’t let Marcos aware of what you are doing.”

“Do you think he’s the one spewing intel on our missions? And how do I spell that?” He asked lowly.

“Yes. In fact, I’m quite sure of it. Let’s just say, I have new CI and let’s keep it at that,” She explained vaguely before spelling out the name for him.

“Alright. I’ll let you know what I find and fax it over to you,” He assured as soon as he got the info he needed.

“Thank you. Hopefully, this is the break we need,” She said with a sigh.

“I know, right? I’ll get back to ya boss asap,” He replied with a small laugh.

She hung up and looked at the photos once more and got annoyed all over again.

She made another phone call and as soon as the phone connected, she started, “Horacio. Need a favor.”

“Hello, Blix. I am well, how about you?” He answered back in a mocking tone.

“Sorry. Hi, Horacio. I really need a favor,” She amended with a slight eye roll.

“What’s up?” Horacio asked.

“Do you know Diego Marcos?” She questioned.

“Yes. The senator’s son that’s on your team, correct?” He confirmed after a moment.

“I need for you to investigate him. I have reason to believe that he’s leaking intel on us,” She requested.

He hummed, “He has taken a recent interest in the DEA as well and has been loitering around the office randomly. Explains why a recent mission to find La Quica went to hell.”

She shook her head at that. “I don’t trust him. I didn’t even want him on my team but the powers that be said I had to take him. But… if we gather enough evidence to prove that he’s not on our side, then we can get rid of him.”

“Let me see what I can do, little fox,” Horacio replied, determination in his voice. “Anything else? And how is your Cali situation going?”

“Thanks. It’s settled for the most part. Had to make a deal with the devil but at the very least, I don’t have to worry about dying anytime soon,” She informed him with some bitterness in her tone.

“I hope you know what you are doing. Stay safe. I’ll keep you updated,” He stated before he hung up.

She sat her phone down and studied the photos some more, examining each one. She gets to the last two and paused, blinking rapidly. They were photos of both Miguel Gallardo and Pablo Escobar, meeting with König, paintings in the background; paintings that she knew very well. She had been staring at photos of them for hours just last night.

“Fucking hell. Those bastards. They bought from him… which would mean that… the Cali also probably brought from him. Those fucks. Imma kill them. That’s.. that’s what is gonna happen. I’m going to beat them all to death. Fuckin. Fuck,” She angrily spoke to herself.

She looked on the back of them to see if he had written anything, and there was one note that said, “He has tried to sell art to us before but after making it well known that he does not… tolerate men like me, we washed our hands of him”

She squinted at it with deep suspicion. ‘Uh huh. Sure. We will be talking about this when we meet.’

She tossed the photos down, sighing, a hand running down her face in exasperation. As she tried to decide what to do next, she heard her fax machine come to life. She got up and walked over to it looking at what was coming in.

The first page literally just read in huge handwriting, “Huge files. I found a great deal on him. Apparently, he’s wanted by several agencies. Prepare for a long week of reading, boss.”

‘Great.’

She left it to do its thing, occasionally checking on it to remove stacks of paper, and make sure that there was plenty of paper and ink within it. It took about 2 hours before the fax finally stopped. She began the long process of sorting the papers sent to her. Fortunately, Theo was kind of enough to code each paper with a specific number in the upper right-hand corner to note what files they belong to.

By the time she was done, several hours had passed, and she had 5 different piles sat upon her table. She only stopped every now and again to eat. She was exhausted by the time she had finished and was thankful for having work that night. She needed some space away from work or she was going to set it on fire.

That night at the bar was fairly normal, and she spent part of the night supervising the new bartender.

About 2am, trouble walked in, in the form of the Gentlemen of Cali. She ignored the three of them for the most part, allowing the newbie to take their orders, and see how he did with them.

She was busy jamming out to the rock n roll blasting from the stereos. Most of the time, the music was just a local music station. Every now and again, Jacque allowed them to play mixtapes. Currently, Uptown Girl by Billy Joel was playing, and Blix was singing along loudly. Some of the waitresses would walk up and join in with her. They would dance around and be silly between orders.

The night was coming to close; she was ready to go home and sleep. She watched as Pacho worked his magic on a guy that he settled up next to a few minutes ago. She chuckled when it barely took him two minutes to convince the guy to leave with him. She watched him walk out, with his arm wrapped around the guy.

Gilberto and Miguel stayed until bar closed and walked up to her. “Your tip. Thank you. You were very entertaining,” Gilberto said with a secretive wink. “Pacho also left his tip with us to give to you as well.”

He handed her an envelope and before he and Miguel walked out. She shoved the envelope into her bag, not bothering to look at it, as she gathered the rest of her tips, and stuff. Jacque usually had the new personnel stay behind to learn the closing process, like cleaning and such, so she was able to leave a few minutes early.

She made her way home and sighed in relief once she stepped into her home. She walked upstairs to shower and change. She chewed on her lip as she sat on her bed, thinking about the envelope she had in her bag. Curiosity got the better of her and she opened it up. Inside was about $1k.

“Ooh. Oh boy. Uhhh. Wha-“ She stammered as she stared at it wide-eyed.

‘Great. Now, I have to be responsible and return this when I see them again. This is... far too much… and is essentially a payoff.’

She threw it back into her bag with an annoyed sigh, throwing herself onto her bed. ‘One of the best tips I’ve ever gotten, and I cannot accept it… because it’s from… cartel members.’

She made herself comfortable and as she fell asleep, she thought, ‘New rule: no more ridiculous tips, which I can’t believe is a thing that needs to be discussed.’

As she slept, another museum in Cali, Museo La Tertulia, was in the midst of being robbed.

#pacho x oc #pacho herrera #narcos #narcos mexico

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finn-wolfhard · 4 years

Note

I need me some quality content and this is the best place for it. Could I get some being Steve's sister and dating Robin? (If that already exists somewhere then please direct me to it bc this idea is like crack to me) Thanks!!

Yo! I've just gotten back into Tumblr since quarantine has given me an abundance of time. I can guess that you ended up getting this elsewhere, anon, but for the folk who also want to read about wlw Robin B and Big Bro Steve - this ones for you!

Enjoy x

I Do

“Turn that shit down! GOD! I feel I’m listening to them in concert.” Steve was screaming from downstairs for me to turn my music down and before I could move an inch to do so, he barged through the door. “Look, I don’t want another complaint from Mrs. Fritz next door. Can you please turn it down. I promised mom and dad that the roof would still be on this place by the time they got home. I’m heading to work. The money for delivery is on the table. Just try not to get yourself into bother, OK?”

“Yeah, sure, sorry Steve. What time will you be home?” our parents are both out of town on business and so Steve has been appointed man of the house. Last time we were left alone, Mrs. Fritz called the police on us, placing a noise complaint. It was just me playing my radio a little bit too loud in my room. My bedroom window is right next to her living room.

“I’ll be home around 8. Do you want to wait till I’m home to order pizza?”

“Sure thing, dude” I answered, giving him a thumbs up and a grin.

“You’re a goof. I’ll see you at 8.”

Steve and I’s relationship is reasonably good for the average brother and sister. He’s a year older than me and has the same interests. Such as; Hair, Pizza, our looks, and girls. I’ve known I’ve been into girls since I was a little kid but dad would kill me if I ever brought a girl home. Mom would be a little more understanding, yet still against the idea - and I don’t even know how Steve would react if he found out. I think he’s the only person I’d be fully comfortable telling, but I don't want to risk it going the complete opposite way.

I hear the door slam and decide to get out of my pajamas and actually DO something today. The schools broke up for summer last week and all I’ve been doing is reading, listening to music, and waiting for my best friend Jennifer to get home from vacation and tell me all about it. She’s due home in three days. I finally muster up enough self-motivation to move from my cozy, pink bed to the bathroom. The cold tiles under my feet wake me up and I stare at myself in the mirror for a bit. I had managed to grow a little spot just below my hairline (which I quickly treated with zit cream) but that was about as far as the flaws went. I usually take good care of myself; drinking enough, taking my vitamins, brushing my teeth after every meal. I do care about my looks and I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. It helps gets me a lot of attention in school, and I’ve never been an outcast. I guess having Steve as a big brother does contribute to the high school fame, but I don’t let it get to me much. I'm just glad I’ve gotten through high-school without being bullied at least once. I looked at my scraggly hair. I had just had a perm done two weeks ago and it seemed to be holding up pretty well. I scrunched my hair to make it look nice and messed it up a bit to give it volume.

In the kitchen, there was the money on the table, like Steve said, and a note next to it.

Save me a slice! Steve :)

He must’ve written the note then realized that a slice won't suffice after a long shift at his dorky Scoops Ahoy! job, and asked me to wait up for him. It's a shame people don’t get to see this side of Steve and I. I know how we come across to other people. I’ve heard the odd remark here and there about how he’s a player and I’m a priss. It mostly comes from the social outcasts in the school, the ones who aren’t in our friend circles, and don’t get to see what we’re really like. Even then, our school personalities are a bit of a performance to uphold our popularity. Only Steve knows my real self and vice verses, and we both understand why it has to be like that. Its an unspoken rule type thing.

I open the fridge and get some milk for cereal. I pour a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Fred smiles at me from the box as I grab the phone off the wall and dial Amanda’s number.

“Hey Mands, you want to go to the mall today”

“y/n! Hi! That sounds great. I need a new outfit for my date with Justin on Friday.”

“Cool, so, 12? That sound ok?”

We agreed on 12:30 (since she had to take her dog on a walk) and she suggested we meet outside the Gap. Soon enough, 12:30 rolls around and I see Amanda smiling wildly at me, where she said she'd be, outside the Gap. She sweeps me into a warm hug and we gush about how much we’ve missed each other since school broke up.

“Ok, so I need to go to Claires to get some earrings.” I agree to help her find a pair that would, quote “make Justin harder than math.” I don’t really understand how a pair of earrings could do this to a guy, or even if guys pay attention to earrings at all, but I was open to being proved wrong. We start making our way to the stairs when Amanda realizes she’s suddenly craving ice cream. I put it down to the fact that there were Scoops Ahoy! Adverts on every trash can (I’m unsure if that is a sign or not). We make a detour to Steve’s work and I make a plan to pull a few strings to get a free cone or two. We enter the ice cream parlor and… Steve isn’t there. Instead, a girl with short blonde hair is serving the queue of customers.

I squint at her, trying to remember her name. Rosie? No, that's not it. It begins with an R for definite. Its to do with an animal… a R-R-Robin! Her name is Robin. And she’s…pretty? Like, really pretty. And not very girly? I can’t tell since she’s wearing a silly uniform… but god, is she pretty.

As I’m staring at her, a slew of slurs come racing into my mind. Slurs I panicked were being shouted at me down the halls but never were. They were always aimed…at her. At Robin. Words beginning with D and F that make my blood boil. Chip, A boy in my own friend group, muttering “Stay away from my sister, homo!” In class. I put a hand up to my mouth to hide a gasp. This girl was outed, by someone she thought was her friend from band, in Hawkins - which isn’t known for being the most accommodating and accepting town.

Amanda and I reach the front of the queue and I find myself unable to look directly at the girl serving me.

“Hi! Welcome to Scoops Ahoy! What can I get you today?” She seemed overly enthusiastic for some reason.

“Hi, is Steve here?” I say, breaking the awkwardness I had built up in my own mind. She looked away, disheartened? I couldn’t tell.

“Steve, your sisters here” then she whispered something that sounded like “you can leave your little nerd friend to figure it out for a bit” but I wasn’t really sure.

Steve appeared from around the corner.

“what do you want, squirt?”

“2 sundaes please” I replied, smiling.

“that will be five dollars pleas-“

“STEVE! Can’t you gift your baby sister with a sundae for once?” I cut him off, appalled that he’s making me pay, but still keeping it lighthearted.

“…fine. But only this ONE TIME” he shot back. I winked at him, thanked him, and waited for him to finish our sundaes. He brought them over and sat with us.

“Who’s that girl?” I instantly questioned, trying not to sound too interested but failing miserably.

“Oh, that's Robin Buckley. She’s in your year at school, don’t you know her?” I do know her. But I don’t want to admit that yet, I want to play it cool.

“I think I’ve seen her around yeah, I’ve just never had a good look at her before. I think she’s in my social studies class?” I look to Amanda to ask this question but Amanda is already nodding by this point. Steve looks unconvinced.

“well, I invited her for pizza tonight,” he said, not wanting to ask ‘is that ok?’ In front of Amanda to keep up his macho ‘I’m Steve Harrington’ persona. I glance over at Robin. By this time, she’s known as lovely Robin in my head. Not that I could help it, along with the butterflies in my stomach or the extreme excitement that she was going to be having dinner. With me. In my house. Tonight!… What am I doing? Get a grip of yourself! You’re not out - as if that is ever going to happen anyways - and Robin was coming for Steve. Of course she was. I mentally roll my eyes. Just my luck.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. Amanda gets her outfit and ‘math’ earrings - which I still don’t understand - and I get a few cute t-shirts and skirts thanks to my allowance mom gave me before she went away. By the time I get home, it is 4 pm which means I have precisely 4 hours to get myself ready for tonight. I go to my room, read for a bit, then put my makeup on in my vanity mirror. I don’t want to mess this up, but then again, why am I caring so much?. I eventually get myself sorted and wait for 8 pm to roll around. At 7:45 I phone Hal’s Pizza Shop and order 2 pepperoni pizzas and 1 plain Margherita. I came to the decision that If Robin is vegetarian then she can have the just cheese, but if not, I’ll take it.

I hear Steve’s key in the lock and he shouts to me from downstairs.

“Hey that's me back, y/n, did you order the pizza?”

“Sure did!” I came to the top of the stairs and looked down at the front door. Robin was staring up at me and I couldn’t help staring at her back. Steve obviously missed this whole exchange of tension.

“Good! Because I’m starving. I’m gonna put a video on, anyone down for watching Indiana Jones?” He mimics a whipping sound and runs off to the living room, leaving Robin and me to awkwardly start a conversation.

“So, you work with Steve. I’ll apologize on your employer's behalf.” I laugh, eventually. Robin looked relieved that I had said something, and even more so that it was a joke.

“It's not as bad as you would think, he brings in loads of customers with that ‘magnificent hair’” she replies, making fun of Steve’s obsession with his, admittedly, perfect mane.

“I’ve seen you about school before, sorry I’ve never talked to you before,” I said. I really meant it, she seems cool. And kinda hot? But that wasn’t important to me…

“Yeah, I guess our groups don’t tend to mix as much. I'm surprised you even know my name” she looks at her feet. She knows I know about the slurs and bullying, I can tell. Just then, there's a ring at the door and Steve reappears, running to get the door that we are standing 2 inches away from.

After sitting, eating, chatting, and laughing our way through Indiana Jones, I realise Steve has fallen asleep beside me. So does Robin. We both snicker at him and then collectively tuck him in with the blankets on the back of the sofa. We sit in silence for a minute.

“Robin. I want to say I'm sorry for all the stuff you get called at school. It's not cool and especially from my group-“

“it's fine” she cuts me off. She seems distant though.

“I don’t think you understand what it does to me hearing people shout words like that at someone. It's inhuman,” Robin looks at me over her cup of hot chocolate Steve made us halfway through the movie. She looks on the verge of tears. “I mean, I don’t know how I would cope with that if people knew I was one too.” I look away from her confused stare in embarrassment. Robin is the first person I tell this massive secret to and I've only been in her company for the past 3 hours? But it felt right. It felt too right, almost.

Robin picks herself up from her space in the armchair and comes to sit on the arm of the sofa. She doesn’t hesitate to put her arm around my shoulders and squeeze me in for a side hug. I hadn’t realized that I had started to cry and I wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my hand.

“I’m so sorry they said those things to you” I whispered while silently sobbing.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n, I have pretty thick skin when it comes to bullying. I've been in band for the past 3 years,” I look at her and let out a small laugh. The smile fades from her lips and a serious look takes over her face. “You don’t need to feel ashamed. Or embarrassed. I’m honored you told me, I know how much trust that takes. Thank you.”

We sit embracing for a couple of minutes and I try to defuse the tension. “You know, I think you’re pretty hot.” She laughs, and I can feel the heat radiating off of her. She’s blushing.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Harrington,” she gives me a small smile. “I think you’re the prettiest girl in our year.” Now it was my turn to blush. I’m not sure if she’s saying this out of courtesy, sympathy, or if she really means it.

“You don't have to say that” I roll my eyes and let out an embarrassed giggle.

“I do.” She whispers back, the darkness multiplying the tension by 10. After a while of nervous silence, not sure what to say next, Robin asks you a question.

“I hope I’m not out of line for saying this, and you can one hundred percent say no,” I looked at her, questioningly, “but why don’t we go out sometime? We can go to the park or we can go to the cinema. Your choice… if you want-if you want to.” She was visibly nervous. In the pitch black, with only the dim glow from the paused movie TV static lighting up the room, I agreed to go on a date with her (”I’d like that”). We both can tell the other is excited but can also tell the other is exhausted. Robin moves back over to the armchair, which was just big enough for a teenage girl to curl up in, and I curl up to my sound asleep brother. It takes a while to finally get to sleep, but I can’t help my mind doing laps, thinking about my future date with Robin Buckley.

#steve harrington 4 ever x #i love steve #big brother steve #dating Robin Buckley #robin buckley imagine #robin buckley fic #robin buckley #st3 #robin #robin buckley one shot

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years

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Run To You - Chpt.2

Summary: Steve calls Bucky to tell him he was right and the two get to know each other a little more. Still drawn to one another, the guys go out on their first date. Master list is HERE :)

Content Warning: mention of past child neglect/ abuse in regards to how Bucky lost his arm. It’s only a couple paragraphs but it’s depressing AF.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! There is a smidge of angst in this chapter and I had never really intended for it go that direction. Damn characters not behaving the way I want them to! I apologize in advance for giving you some sad feels on this one, I got myself with them too. But hopefully there’s enough fluffiness to balance it out. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Two

Becca sleeps the day away but it’s a restless fever ridden sleep with her waking up every few hours to cry that her stomach hurts. Bucky manages to catch cat naps while she sleeps but they’re both exhausted by the time the day is over. He manages to get some fluids in her once she’s fully woken up and she keeps most of it down, much to Bucky’s relief. He hates seeing his baby girl sick and is thankful for his medical training, so that he knows what to expect and look out for. It’s just past seven o’clock at night and while they would normally be doing Becca’s bath time routine, he doesn’t have the heart to disrupt her. She finally drank the rest of her Pedialyte and is half watching an episode of Wonder Pets while her eyes droop sleepily. He waits until her eyes stay shut for a few minutes before awkwardly scooping up the little girl to carry her off to bed. He doesn’t have a free hand to turn off the TV, having taken off his prosthetic the second he got back from the bodega, but figures he needs to go back out to clean things up for the night anyways.

“Bucky?” Becca slurs sleepily as he lays her down in her bed.

“Yeah, Becs?” He pulls up her comforter, getting it tucked tightly around her body like she prefers.

“Love you.” she half says, half yawns.

Bucky fights back the tears that prickle in the corner of his eyes. “Love you too, bug. Get some rest.”

Becca gives a little nod and then sprawls out into her usual sleeping position.

Bucky shuts off her lamp and closes the door, leaving it open just a crack in case she needs him in the night. She seems to be getting to the otherside of whatever virus she’d caught but he knows it isn’t always a sure thing. He hopes he’ll only have to miss one day of work staying home with her but knows it’ll most likely be two.

There isn’t too much of a mess to clean up but Bucky busies himself with turning off the TV and clearing the coffee table. He’s washing the dishes and debating his dinner options when his phone buzzes angrily in his back pocket. Drying off his hand, he pulls out his phone and sees Steve’s name on the screen. Bucky swipes to accept the call and nestles the phone between his shoulder and jaw. “Hey, Steve.”

“Bucky, hey.” Steve replies eagerly. “So I’ve spent the last six hours doing nothing but reading history articles and I gotta say, you were right.”

Bucky smiles as he rifles through his cabinets for something to eat, “I suspected as much. How far off is it? Out of curiosity.”

Steve sighs heavily through his nose and Bucky wondered how exasperated the other man must look. “It’s pretty fuckin’ terrible.” he finally admits.

Bucky laughs, “Wow, you really do know how to curse!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, ya jerk. It was just… surprising, I guess, to see how much these so-called experts missed. Don’t get me wrong, I know some people had it okay and some people had it a lot worse, but the way they make the whole thing feel so… sterile... I don’t know. They don’t seem to capture the feel of the times. Like yes we had food rations, but they don’t tell you how small those rations were. And how even if you got your stamps you might not be able to find the food you had a stamp for. My mother had to go all the way to Queens one time just to buy eggs so we’d have something with protein to eat.”

“That sounds terrible, I can’t even imagine.” Bucky juggles the phone carefully as he pulls down a tin of tuna.

“We made it, somehow. And it wasn’t all terrible all the time, but it was a sight worse than they make it out to be. It’s like that now too, isn’t it? The world isn’t quite as progressive as people like to think it is?”

Bucky pauses, trying to sort out his words. “It is and it isn’t. I think my experience is a little different than most but it’s definitely not the rainbows and goodwill that they say it is.”

Steve’s voice is low and rich like good bourbon pouring across the phone lines. “Tell me what it’s like for you, then.”

Bucky stills, shocked by the raw earnestness of Steve’s words. There’s an undercurrent too, like something whispered in a lover’s ear in the dead of night. It stirs things inside Bucky that he hasn’t had the time or inclination for in a really long time. Figuring he should reciprocate the honesty Steve has afforded him so far, Bucky hops up to sit on the kitchen counter and gets himself comfortable to tell his story. “Well, I grew up in a little backwater town in Indiana. The biggest export of our town was meth and most everyone was affected by that. People used religion like a weapon and thought The Republican Way was gospel. I didn’t fit in to any of that from day one and it made growing up there hard.”

“What were you like as a kid?” Steve asks, curious.

“I was pretty much everything that town wasn’t. My parents weren’t really able to take care of me so I figured out early on how to care for myself. I was angry a lot because of that once I got older. I didn’t really try to fit in. I studied hard, worried about getting good grades so I could earn scholarships to a decent college and get out of there. I didn’t care much about religion and was fiercely liberal from the time I understood what politics were. And I’m queer, that didn’t help me fit in either. I, uh, I hope that doesn’t bother you.” Bucky falters, knowing Steve’s generation was a lot less forgiving about that sort of thing.

“It doesn’t. I’m bi, actually. We did have homosexuality back in the thirties despite what the historians think.”

“Holy shit.” Bucky blurts out. Captain America is bisexual.

“It’s not something that comes up a lot, but I don’t hide it when asked. Somehow it never seems to make the news though.”

“I think it would seriously fuck with some people’s world view if it did. That’s good, though. That you don’t have to hide it. It’s one of those things that isn’t quite like the news reports it. Sure, things are a hell of a lot better now for queer folk, but we still get bullied, discriminated against, sometimes even killed.” Despite himself, Bucky yawns deeply. He’s beyond tired but unwilling to hang up.

“You sound exhausted.” Steve notes, “I should let you go.”

“No, it’s okay. I just had a long night followed by a long day. I’ll crash soon and hopefully Becca sleeps in tomorrow.”

“Becca is your… daughter?”

“My sister, actually. I adopted her when she was born. She feels like she’s mine but I never wanted to hide that fact that I’m her brother, not her dad. I don’t want her growing up not knowing who she really is.”

“You’re pretty amazing, Buck.” And Steve means every weighted word of it.

Bucky shakes his head, almost dislodging his phone in the process. “Just got lucky enough to make a better life for myself, and her. That’s all.”

“I think there’s a lot more to it than that, but okay. Really though, I should let you go. We can talk another day? Maybe grab that lunch together?”

“Yeah, definitely. My schedule is a little crazy but I have off rotation in a few days, we could go out Thursday while Becca’s at preschool?”

“It’s a date. I’ll text you later this week so we can figure out the where and when.”

“Sounds like a plan. Night, Steve.”

The warm smile on Steve’s face practically shines through the phone line, “Night, Buck.”

Bucky hangs up and stares around his tiny apartment in amazement. If you had told him a week ago that he was going to insult Captain America to his face and end up befriending him, he would have called you crazy. It’s a little odd having to separate the public persona he knows as Captain America, from Steve, the real guy under the cowl, but Bucky is looking forward to getting to know the real him better.

xxXxx

“The best pizza in Brooklyn, huh?” Steve questions, squinting up at the shop’s sign.

Bucky nods enthusiastically. “Definitely. They still use the old fashioned brick ovens and homemade sauce. Fresh herbs, locally sourced cheese. It sounds fancy but it’s really just good, old school, pizza.”

“We’ll see. Sam recently introduced me to the concept of a dollar slice, and I think anything will be better than that.”

“Oh man, yeah. Some places are decent, but most are shit.”

Bucky and Steve order a large pie to share, picking a small table in the back to sit at. Steve is amused when he spots a cooler with real glass bottles of soda and grabs one for each of them. Bucky smiles when he sees the bottles, able to guess Steve’s amusement at seeing something familiar.

The pizza is up before they know it and Steve is moaning at the first bite. “Sorry.” he mumbles around his mouthful of gooey cheese. “It’s really good.”

Bucky swallows quickly so he can respond, “Told ya.”

Steve nods, properly contrite. “You did. Thanks for bringing me here.”

“Any time.” Bucky smiles over at him and wonders what it would be like if they were out on a real date. One that ended with Steve walking him home and kissing him goodnight. He tries to shake the fantastical idea from his mind but it lingers, coming to the surface whenever Steve looks at him a little longer than most would find polite.

They’re quiet through Steve’s first two slices, Bucky finishing his first as Steve goes for a third. Bucky has a healthy appetite but Steve is something else. “Super soldier, sorry.” Steve tells him with a shrug when he sees Bucky eyeing up his plate.

“No judgement here. Everyone’s gotta eat.” Bucky assures him.

Steve slows down enough to make conversation after a little while, asking Bucky questions about his job and Becca. Steve is infinitely impressed with Bucky’s job as an ER nurse considering his mother had been a nurse and he knows first hand what a toll that profession can take on people.

Bucky catches Steve glancing at his sleek metal prosthetic but the blonde is too polite to bring it up. “You can ask, you know. Most people just make assumptions about it, none of which are even close to the truth.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, “I didn’t want to be rude.”

“You’re not. It’s not my favorite topic but I’m better talking about it now. Go ahead, ask.”

Steve hesitates but trusts Bucky to know his own mind. “Okay, then. Bucky, how did you lose your arm?”

Bucky takes a steadying breath and dives into the polite for public version of how he lost his left arm. His parents took him to the lake one summer when he was six, he’d begged for months and they finally agreed to drive out to spend a day there. He got a scratch on his arm and it got infected from the lake water. His parents weren’t too great on the whole “parenting” thing and didn’t notice when it got infected until he collapsed. At that point the arm was too far gone and the doctors had amputated it just above the elbow.

What Bucky leaves out is that the scratch had actually been a gash and he’d gotten a beating for being careless before they headed for home. Sitting sorely in the backseat the whole bumpy ride home, using his own tshirt to wrap around his arm to help slow the bleeding. It was his transformers tshirt and it had been his favorite. Bucky leaves out the week of agonizing pain as the gash got worse, the infection burning and itching horribly until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Both of his parents were too strung out to notice and he’d tried, the best he could at that age, to put band-aids on it but then he caught another beating for using up all the band-aids. Bucky doesn’t tell Steve that the days he spent in the hospital were some of the best he could remember back then. The nurses were nice and brought him hot food three times a day. On Friday an ice cream cart came around. There were books he could read and other kids he could play with. When it was time for him to go home, he’d cried the entire way.

Bucky notices Steve is staring at him expectantly and realizes he's gone silent, lost in the less than pleasant memories. “Sorry, it was a long time ago.” he clears his throat, pushing past the ugly memories and moving on, “I got this bad boy through a grant from a children’s hospital when I was fifteen. It was strange having two arms at first. Up until that point I’d spent most of my life with just the one. It was after that hospital stint that I decided on nursing. The nurses who cared for me during both of my hospital stays were just amazing. They took what could have been really scary experiences and made them into something good. I wanted to be able to do that for someone else, someday.”

“Nurses are definitely superheroes.” Steve acknowledges. “My ma worked in the TB ward when I was a kid. She just had this way about her that she could spin any negative life threw at her into a positive. She was incredible. And I wasn’t an easy kid by any means.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that in the history books. Something about you being a feisty little shit always getting himself in trouble.” Bucky smirks, waiting for Steve to dispute it.

“It wasn’t quite as bad as they say it was. I only broke up a handful of fights over the years and always bullies who deserved it. I was as sick as they claimed though. The medical records were all real and my poor ma worked herself to the bone just trying to keep my lungs and heart going.”

“I feel for her. Even with medical training, it’s awful watching your kid get sick. Becca has some issues, she was born premature, and even though I know exactly what’s an annoyance versus a true issue, it’s still so hard watching her struggle.”

Steve’s expression falls, “I’m so sorry, Buck.” He reaches out across the table on impulse and grasps Bucky’s hand in his. “What, uh... if you don’t mind me asking, what issues does she have? You’ve seen my list and part of that was from being a preemie myself. It’s not like mine, is it?”

Bucky wants to melt through the booth into a puddle at the warm heavy contact of Steve’s hand over his. “No, not quite so bad. Her immune system isn’t the greatest, she has asthma that we have relatively under control, a heart murmur that the docs still think will close as she gets older, she’s anemic but has meds for it, and she’s never quite been out of the danger zone on the growth chart. She’s just a tiny little thing, but she's the cutest little girl you’ll ever lay eyes on.”

“I have no doubt. She’s really lucky he has you.”

They’re quiet for a moment, nothing to fill the silence but Steve’s thumb rubbing rhythmically over the ridges of Bucky’s knuckles. “Sorry, I didn’t exactly pick the happiest first date topics, did I?” Steve forces a painfully awkward laugh, taking back his hand as he tries to think of a less serious topic for them.

“First date, huh?” Bucky grins despite himself.

Steve blushes from the tips of his ears down past his collar and Bucky wonders just how far down that blush goes. “It doesn’t have to be. Unless you want it to be one. I had a really great time, regardless. I don’t get out mu-”

“Steve!” Bucky cuts him off, waving his hand in surrender. “Breathe a minute so I can answer.” he pauses and Steve takes a slightly dramatic breath, shooting Bucky a wry smile. “There we go. I had a really great time too. And yes, I’d like it if this was a date. And if there are more dates following this one.”

“Oh,” Steve is rendered speechless by the warmth blossoming in his chest. “That would be swell.”

“Swell? Really?” Bucky laughs in disbelief.

Steve’s blush flares to life again. “Sorry, sorry. Old man word, I know. What are the kids using these days? Nifty?”

Bucky groans, “Cool, Steve. Just stick with cool.”

“Okay, cool.” Steve sasses playfully.

Bucky rolls his eyes before checking his watch. It’s almost time to go get Becca, they had spent two hours talking and it still feels like not enough time. “Shit. I gotta head out for Becca. Preschool lets out at three.”

“Not a problem, I’d say I’m sorry for keeping you so long but I really enjoyed myself.” Steve snatches the paper slip with their bill on it and hurries over to the counter to pay. “You were right, so lunch is on me.” he insists.

“That’ll teach you not to bet against me, huh?” Bucky quips.

“I don’t know. This worked out pretty well for me. I learned a lot of new stuff, broadened my perspective on some things, went out with a cute guy, ate the best pizza in Brooklyn, and it sounds like I’ll get to go out with that cute guy again. I think this turned out pretty good.”

Bucky laughs and gives him a playful shove as they leave the pizza shop together. They pause along the brick wall of the shop, neither man wanting to part ways just yet. “I don’t have off rotation for another three days but I’d like to see you again.” Bucky says, toying with the hem of his shirt. He feels like a damn teenager again.

“Whenever you want, Bucky. My schedule is flexible unless I get called away for a long mission. I’ll take whatever time you’re willing to share with me.” Steve doesn’t want to push, but he’s willing to do whatever he needs to in order to see Bucky again.

“I appreciate that. I know my schedule isn’t traditional but it’s my life for right now.”

“And that’s okay.” Steve assures him, though he looks pretty nervous suddenly. He clears his throat twice before he finally asks, “Would it be too fast if I asked to kiss you right now?”

Bucky’s pupils flare at the question, his reaction answering Steve before his voice does. “Not at all.” he murmurs moving closer to Steve.

Steve’s lips are a breath away from Bucky’s as he whispers “Oh good” and takes the kiss that Bucky so freely gives. Steve fights for composure, they’re on a public sidewalk for heaven’s sake. Bucky’s mouth slots against his like missing puzzle pieces, both warm and insistent as the kiss deepens.

Steve kisses like he’s drowning and Bucky is reeling to keep up. How something so innocent turned so quickly is beyond comprehension but Bucky doesn’t want it to stop. The alarm on his phone reminding him it’s pick up time for Becca ends things quickly though. “I’ve gotta get Becca. Like, now.” he breathes raggedly against Steve’s mouth.

“Okay. Okay.” Steve repeats like he’s convincing himself. “To be continued?”

“To be continued.” Bucky agrees, leaning in for one last quick peck and then heading off to go pick up Becca.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #shrunkclunks #modern day au #modern au #non winter soldier bucky #nurse!bucky #parent!bucky #captain america #steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #kid!becca barnes #adopted child #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fandom

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

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penguins {m}

this is.....unedited and also kind of a mess bc i haven’t slept in.....too long, but @honiboyyoon kept sending me yoongi posts and also daddy dom yoongi posts specifically so blame her for this absolute fucking FILTH

a/n: DEFINITE SMUT, choking, daddy kink, spanking, choking, belt spanking, choking (there is seriously so much choking its a little ridic), dirty talk, jealous yoongi,

You legitimately love your boyfriend. Six years together and still, he's perfect. Surprises you with breakfast in bed, buys you little things he sees that he thinks you might like, wakes you up at the ass crack of dawn to drive four hours and take a ferry across the ocean just to go to an aquarium you passingly mentioned you would cut your own leg off to go to. And he's adorable at the aquarium, too, letting you run around with wide eyes and not getting upset when you inevitably lose him in the crowd (even if you did find him glaring at some stingrays because, you quote, "Some of us still remember Steve Irwin, princess. Never forgive, never forget.") He looks utterly ridiculous, and you’re not really sure what about the all-black-with-a-pierced-baseball-cap-and-flannel look gets you hot and bothered, but it does. Maybe you should be ashamed of that, but honestly, Yoongi looks literally edible and you’re not one to question it when your boyfriend looks so good. That doesn’t stop you from teasing him, though - “Seriously, Yoongi, what kind of emo bitch wears that shit in public,” “Clearly I do, princess, now stop running that mouth, didn’t you want to see the seals,” “Fuck, yes, I gotta get a recording so I can play it whenever Seokjin laughs,” - and you’ll never admit how much you like it.

The rest of the time you're there is a delight. Yoongi grumbles about how you might pull his arm out of its socket with how you're dragging him away, but tightens his grip every time you start to pull your hand away. The entire time you can’t help but look at him, watch the way he moves and the grin when he pets a turtle, how he helps a kid pick out a hermit crab and then sends pictures to Joon of them. It’s not lost on you how his eyes linger, either, completely focused on you as you watch the sharks roll above you and beaming when you see the octopus try to steal extra fish from its handler...the way you maybe, just maybe, shake your ass just a little when you bend over to pet an otter. You stay until the aquarium closes and get dinner at a restaurant close by, and it only gets worse.

Yoongi's always been tactile. Even when the two of you were just friends dancing around each other, he would give you hugs and rub your back and let his thigh press against yours without any second thoughts. It's who he is. You know this, you love this, you find it pretty cute most of the time. There are times, though, when it's not...cute.

Like when he leaves his hand, hot and heay, on your upper thigh as he drives to the restaurant so you remember every single time he’s fingered you while going somewhere. Or when he opens the door so you can enter first and lets out a low whistle as you pass him, and when you turn to scold him, his eyes quickly dart back up to your face. Or like when he hooks a foot around the leg of your chair and uses muscles you tend to forget he has to pull you closer. You can see the strength in his thighs as it flexes under his jeans and it makes goosebumps break out across your skin. He doesn't move his leg, keeps it right between your own with his ankle pressed against yours, hooked around your chair, and something about the pose makes you shiver.

"Why aren't you eating, princess?" He asks as he brings a piece of sushi up to his own mouth. You mumble something unintelligible, focused on the way his tongue darts out swipe up a bit of soy sauce before his lips close around the food entirely, pouting as they do. You're torn between the desire to pinch his puffed cheeks and the need to beg him to repeat the action on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the very thought; you always get worked up when Yoongi is sweet to you, it's something all your friends tease you for, and today is the exact opposite of an exception. Taking you four hours and a ferry ride away from home just to take your nerd ass to an aquarium because he knows you'd like it? You're ready to get on your knees and show your appreciation, however he wants for as long as he wants it.

Someone calling your name startles you enough that you jump a little. Turning, you grin when you see a friend from college - fuck if you can remember his name right now, Hyunwoo? Hyungsoo? Hongbin? Whatever it was - waving at you. He’s taller than you remember and when you give him a quick hug you find he’s filled out nicely in the years since you’ve last seen him. Whatever-His-Name-Is looks nothing like the dweeb from your study group anymore, and as you chat with him, he’s clearly still just as nice as he was back then. You even introduce him to Yoongi - and find out his name is fucking Sehun, you must be a dumbass - who looks decidedly less content than he did a few minutes ago. You wave Sehun goodbye when a woman appears and drags him off to their table, but even after you sit back down, Yoongi’s not happy about something.

He’s silent as the grave and you realize at some point during the 5.7 minutes you were talking he’s straightened up and no longer has his legs sprawled about. No, they’re now tucked neatly under his chair, as far on his own side of the table as he can get them. He stabs at a piece of meat, tearing into it much more aggressively than usual, and you narrow your eyes at him.

"Are you okay?" You ask him eventually, after watching him pick up some onion so roughly that the table shook a little. He doesn't answer, just shrugs, and you frown. His irritation isn't lost on you, you're just not sure what you did to cause it. After six years of being together and almost ten of being friends, you know him pretty well, and as you replay the entire day in your mind, you can't find any of the things that usually push him into a mood.

He's still irritated when you both leave the restaurant, one hand gripping the wheel tightly while the other violently switches gears. You wait until he parks at the hotel to try again.

"Yoongi?" You say quietly. "Will you talk to me? I don't know what I did wrong." He huffs and exits the car, and you quickly follow suit. He pulls a suitcase out of the trunk and huffs as he locks the car. He walks quickly through the parking garage, must faster than you're used to, and you rush to keep up. He doesn't say anything as he heads into the lobby, or as he gets the room key, and the silence hangs in the elevator until you can't take it anymore. "Seriously, Yoongi, I don't know why you're mad, I didn't do anything."

He whirls on you with fire in his eyes and it freezes you in place.

"You think that helps?" He growls, closing the distance between the two of you, and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You don't even know how you fucked up, princess. You really have no clue?" You shake your head.

"I really don't," You whisper. He slides a thumb across your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to wet the skin and he groans almost imperceptibly. The sound makes heat pool between your thighs. He pulls away as the elevator door opens and he strides out. He doesn't wait for you and doesn't slow until he gets to the door with your room number on it.

After it's closed behind you and you're sure it's locked, you turn back to him. He stands in the middle of the room, back to the bed as he strips his jacket off and tosses it to the couch nearby. You wait patiently as he crosses his arms and then turns to you.

"Come here," He commands. You comply immediately. "Do you know what you did yet?" You shake your head, pouting up at him in the hope that it would encourage leniency. He tsks and shakes his head. "Strip. You don't deserve these nice clothes, princess."

You're naked as quick as you can be, clothes strewn about the room in your haste to get them off. He's upset, and you don't know why, but you know better than to make him wait for something when he's like this. You’ve been ready to give it up to him all day, and seeing him in his commanding persona only increases the feeling tenfold. Heat rushes to your core once again and you rub your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate some of it.

He notices the action immediately, smacking your thigh with his palm. "Look at this," He sighs. "So fucking wet and I haven't even done anything yet. You're such a little slut, always so ready for me." He steps slightly closer, letting his fingers dance along your slit. You don't move and don't make a sound, just let your eyes flutter closed for a brief second. He growls and slaps a hand across your ass.

"Unless it's not for me. Keep your eyes open, slut. I'm the one here right now." You shiver and look at him. He's still fully dressed, which only makes you wetter. He knows you love it, the power dynamic it creates. "Get on the bed, princess. Face me, on your knees."

You do as he says, the bed plump and soft beneath you as you sit back on your knees. Yoongi looks good like this, even with the fire in his eyes, but you're distracted by his hands. The long fingers, the sheer size of them, the way they drag ever so slightly against the leather of his belt as he slides it out from around his waist. You shudder at all of the things he could do with it, and you don’t miss the way he smirks.

“I try to do something nice for you,” He says in a too-controlled voice as he steps closer. “Take you somewhere fun, buy you good food after. I even let you sleep on the way here so you’d be rested for our little adventure. And what do I get in return?” He folds the belt over on itself, and you clench around nothing at the sight. You know what’s coming.

“I’m sorry, thank you, Yoongi, I enjoyed-” You whimper as his belt makes contact with one of your thighs, the sting settling into the skin and turning it pink.

“What did you call me?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy, I won’t do it again.” His expression softens for just a moment, long fingers rubbing soothing circles over where he hit.

“You know I don’t like punishing you, princess,” He purrs, one hand across your throat for a brief moment so he can stroke his thumb along your cheek. “But I was so good to you today, and then you just…” His jaw tightens and your heart flutters at the sight. You should probably be a little apprehensive, but fuck, he’s so hot. “Bend over.”

You follow his instructions, doing your best not to shiver when he runs a hand over your ass. “You have ten seconds to tell me what you did wrong, princess. If you can’t, you’ll be the one counting to ten.” He starts counting down immediately and your mind scrambles. It couldn’t have been when you accidentally left him behind at the jellyfish, because he was still fine at dinner, and even when you threw a handful of rice at him he laughed so that wasn’t it either, but then maybe-

The sound hits your ears before the pain registers, but you manage a muffled, one, because you know better than to do otherwise. His hand comes up again, rubbing the sting away. The next hit lands on the other cheek, and it’s a feat not to flinch or moan when you call out, two.

It continues, all the way to ten; Yoongi alternates between your cheeks and the backs of your thighs, which is going to make the car ride home an absolute nightmare, but you suppose that’s the point. You’re absolutely dripping by the time you call out a weak ten, your wetness trickling down your inner thigh and your ass and thighs no doubt red and swollen even as he runs his fingers along the skin in soft circles.

“Good, princess?” Yoongi asks quietly. You don’t trust yourself to speak, but you manage what has to be the most enthusiastic nod anyone’s ever given. He chuckles under his breath and metal clinks as his belt hits the bed beside you. He lifts you up to lean against his chest and wipes away the stray tears you couldn’t keep back. “You did so good, baby. You always take your punishments so well for me. Can you tell me what you did to get punished?”

“No, Daddy, I’m sorry, I don’t know, but I won’t do it again, I promise.” Yoongi ‘hmm’s and nods slightly, looking more disappointed than anything.

“That’s okay, princess,” He coos as he turns you around and presses his chest against your back. “We’ll fix that. Don’t move, or I’ll have to punish you again, princess, and you know how much I hate that.” You whimper a little but nod as he steps away. You hold yourself up, back straight and unmoving even as the raw belt marks on your ass rub into your calves. You don’t look behind you, you know better, but you can hear the soft tinkling of metal and the quiet whoosh of something being unfurled.

You’re so curious, so fucking curious about what he’s doing, but you don’t move. If you move, he’s going to spank you again, and while that is such a tempting vision - you, sprawled over his knees this time as his bare palm makes contact with that slap of skin meeting skin as he tells you just how good you are for taking your punishment, fuck, - you mostly just want him inside you, like, right now, because you can basically feel the throbbing heat between your legs and this hotel duvet has to be soaked, and also you’ve been waiting all fucking day.

The heat of Yoongi’s body returns to the space behind you and he presses a soft kiss to your neck.

“I’m gonna have to make sure my princess knows that I’m the only one for her, huh?” You whimper slightly, and you can feel his smile against your skin. “You remember your safeword, baby girl?” You nod, but Yoongi just tuts. “Gotta hear you say it, princess, you know the rules.”

“Penguin.”

“And if you can’t say it?”

“Tap you twice on the thigh.”

“Good girl,” Yoongi whispers into your ear. Your entire body shudders, legs nearly giving out, but a pressure against your neck keeps you up long enough for you to regain your balance. It takes you a second to realize what it is; a quick glance to the bed beside you confirms it. Yoongi has his belt wrapped around your neck, and based on the way it tightens around your throat while the remnants hand from the nape of your neck, he’s got it buckled in place. You stifle another moan.

“Now, princess,” Yoongi purrs, “Who do you belong to?”

“You, always you, Daddy, no one else, ever.”

“That’s fucking right,” He growls. With one hand on your back, he shoves you down until your face is buried in the blanket, the tail of his belt pulled taut and no doubt wrapped around his hand. He doesn’t even finger you first, just thrusts inside you with one move. A choked moan tears itself out of your throat, muffled by the thick blanket underneath you. “I’m the only fucking one allowed near this pussy, you hear me?”

Yoongi’s thrusts aren’t forgiving at all; he’s rough and hard, doesn’t give you any time to get used to the stretch of his dick, just shoves in and out like you’re merely a toy to be used. His free hand has a bruising grip on your hip, your fingers are clawed into the duvet, and all you can think about is how fucking perfect it feels. The burn of the stretch, the way your ass and thighs sting with every thrust, the slight pressure against your windpipe that isn’t enough to choke you but reminds you that you’re at his mercy. It’s as close to heaven as you’re ever going to get, it has to be, because it’s absolutely euphoric.

“Fuck, princess, look at how you take my cock,” Yoongi hisses. His grip tightens on the belt as he pulls, and you’re seeing stars with how utterly fantastic the lack of air is. “Fuck, you always take me so well, you know that? Like you were made for me, just me. Can’t wait to fucking mark you, want everyone to know you’re mine. You gonna be a good girl and let me mark you, princess?”

You nod as best you can, gasping when Yoongi pulls hard on the belt to bring you up against him once more. His pace is unrelenting, hitting every spot inside that he knows you love, teasing your g-spot with each thrust.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut, you know that?” His voice is strained and you wish you could see, wish you could watch him fall apart as he fucks you, but god, there is nothing like his voice in your ear, raspy and gravelly because he’s focusing so hard on the way he pistons in and out of you like a goddamn jackhammer. “So fucking wet and ready for me all the time, baby girl...you know Daddy loves this pussy better than anything else. You like it when Daddy fucks you like this, princess? Treating you like the whore you are?”

You whimper and give a slight nod, mostly focused on the brief allowances of air he gives you. With another thrust he lets go of the belt, bringing his hand up to wrap tenderly around the base of your throat. You gasp, sucking in all the air you can before he decides you don’t get any more. The pressure that’s been slowly building inside of you threatens to snap, and you barely hold it back.

“Who’s fucking pussy is this, princess? Who’s little slut are you?”

“Yours,” You gasp. “Yours, Daddy, I’m your little slut.”

“Yeah? Who you thinking about right now? You thinking about Daddy? Or are you thinking about that fucking bastard from the restaurant? You wish it was him fucking you like this?”

“No, never, please, only want you, please, Daddy, please can I cum? Didn’t even remember his name, please, please, I’m so close Daddy, I just-”

“Do it baby.” He brings his hand up ever so slightly, bracing you against his body, while the hand on your hip darts down to rub circles into your clit. “C’mon, princess, you’re so good for me, go ahead, cream on Daddy’s cock. Wanna feel you around me.” It takes seconds, the combination of him thrusting so deep inside that you can feel it on your fucking cervix with the way he rubs your clit, along with the words he’s growling into your ear, it’s god damn magic, and you’re spasming around him in seconds, vision going white as your body goes limp.

When you come to, you’re on your back on the bed, Yoongi between your legs and thrusting desperately into you. You whimper a little, the oversensitivity is always strong right after you cum. He shushes you softly, one hand moving to stroke your hair gently.

“That’s it baby, you take me so well. Fuck, just love watching my cock disappear inside you, could watch that forever. God damn, princess, you are so good, such a good girl, you know that? Can’t wait to marry you, gonna fuck you like this forever, make sure every-fucking-body knows you’re mine.” Your breath catches in your throat, even in your fucked-out haze you know what he just said, but what-

“Fuck, that’s it, take it, princess, take my cum,” Yoongi’s panting on top of you as he comes, thick ropes coating your walls. You’re both breathless as he carefully removes the belt from around your neck, gentle and soft, before he collapses beside you with a huff.

“Yoongi?” You say after a minute, still mostly breathless. He makes a small noise of acknowledgement, enough that you know he isn’t asleep yet. “Did you just...did you just propose to me in the middle of jealousy sex?”

“What? No, I didn’t-” He stops. “Fuck.”

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader smut #bts smut #jealous yoongi #ddaenggtan #literal fucking filth you all #F I L T H #have it

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workofmark · 5 years

Text

when your bestfriend only sees you as a friend - mark lee

[a/n: hiii this is my first sort of angst back so i hope it doesn’t suck too much. please let me know what you think of it!] [a/n pt 2: hey fari, remember when you cussed at me in our dms? this ones for you! @zhengtongue]/ master list

We’ve been friends for years, her and I. It was just a typical friendship when it started out. We had the same math class in middle school and the two of us just sort of...clicked. And though I wasn’t worthy of her time, she gave me all of the time in the world.

We continued to be friends all throughout middle school. We hung out often. Her parents even invited me to go with them on a week long trip to a farm that her grandparents’ had owned. That summer, our lips were stained red from strawberries, hair as wild as the wind, doubled over every second of the day with laughter, sleeping with the fireflies, sun kissed, happy. It’s a summer I’ll never forget. A summer neither of us will. A summer that frequents our late night conversations with questions like “Mark, remember when you tried to milk that cow and totally cried?” or “Mark, remember when we swam in the pond all day long and were shriveled up like raisins for days afterwards?” or “Mark, remember when we spent the entire night counting the stars?”

But there’s one question that has never made it into our late night conversations. A question that keeps me up until the crack of dawn.

“YN, remember when I was pushing you on that old tire swing and you stopped, leaned out and kissed me?”

No. She’ll never bring that up again. And I won’t either.

Because that’s what happens when your best friend only sees you a friend.

The summer ends as quickly as ice cream melts on a long day. We enter high school that year. We start to find out more about ourselves that year.

She joins the volleyball team, I join the music club. She goes to all of my recitals, I go to all of her games. We’re each other’s biggest fans. She and I...we’re best friends and everybody knows that.

But we have our own friends too.

I have Haechan from music club, she has Jisoo from volleyball. I have Johnny from forth period, she has Jieqiong from seventh period. I have Jaehyun from the youth center that I play basketball at afterschool and she has...

She has Lee Taeyong.

And I see that way she looks at him.

Lee Taeyong is our student body president - a junior. He’s tall, smart and handsome. He sometimes oversees the music club when our president, Ten, is out. He’s part of the mathletes, a teacher’s favorite, does the morning announcements, best friends with the principal, number one in class rankings from his year, captain of our dance team and volunteers at the animal shelter on the weekend.

His parents must be so proud of him.

That’s why it’s no surprise to see the way her eyes light up when they accidentally crash into each other in the hall, sending her papers flying like some cliché high school drama. I help out too, of course, but all of her attention seems to be on him. I watch her cheeks flush bright pink and the way she stumbles over her words like she always does when she’s nervous. She pushes her hair back behind her ear and apologizes once more.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Taeyong says, smiling gently at her. His persona now is completely different than when he’s on the stage. His eyes are softer, more welcoming. Nothing like the hard glare he gets when he dances. “You’re YN. Right?” I can see her eyes flash with confusion. How does Lee Taeyong know my name? she’s asking herself. He helps her to her feet (while I push myself up off the ground) and says, “You’re friends with Jisoo. She talks about you to me.”

She makes a noise - a squeak almost. “What does she say?”

Taeyong chuckles. “All good things,” he says. “She says that you’re really into movies.”

And that was the first time I lost her.

Her and Taeyong start to date a little over a month after that incident. They’re the talk of the town. She’s known for how well she plays volleyball, she’s known for how kind hearted she is, she’s knows for her intelligence, she’s known for being the perfect match for Taeyong.

I see her less and less. I assure her that it’s okay. I tell her that if I were in a relationship, I would be doing the same thing and would hope she were as understanding as I was. But one too many times, she blows me off for Taeyong and I’m at Johnny’s house, crying over a tub of ice cream.

“Well Mark,” he says, “if you were going to be this heartbroken over her, then you should’ve just asked her out in the first place. You fumbled the ball there, bud. Now there’s nothing left you can do.”

It hurts. I know Johnny is coming from a good place but it still hurts.

It hurts because it’s true. I did fumble the ball. I could’ve asked her out so many times. I could’ve asked why she kissed me that summer so many times. I could’ve done so much but I was so scared of losing my best friend that I decided to just shove my feelings down my throat and let them stop the words from leaving my mouth.

It’s my own fault. And I know that.

But even if I am hurting, I’m still her best friend. I still should help her pick out her outfits for her next date with Taeyong and I should still help her try to find the perfect gift for him for Christmas and I should still be there for her when she lets me. Because even though I may not be her person, she’s still mine.

Yes. She’s still my person.

It’s a little after Taeyong’s graduation when she tells me of their decision.

“We’re breaking up.“ Her eyes are solemn as she says that, kicking the gravel under her feet as she rocks back and forth on the swing at our neighborhood playground. “He’s going to the states to study and doesn’t want me to stay here and wait for him. It’s for the better.”

And just like that, their two years together are down the drain and she’s here with me again.

We spend another summer together that year. This time, we take the long way home. We’re still kids and we’ll be entering our senior year that next year so we decide to spend this summer to our fullest.

“You’re never gonna know what’ll happen next summer. This is the last summer we’re gonna have together before college, Mark. I want to spend it with you.”

Of course the words make me as sad as they do happy. She’s right. Even though we are both applying for the same college, you never do know what will happen after high school ends.

So we spend the entire summer at pools and at the old park we used to play at when we were young. We go bowling and to the movies and blow our allowances on arcade games and photo booths. We spend almost every day together. Our parents don’t see us all day long and come back late at night. They know not to look for us. We always find our way back home.

We always find our way back to each other.

“If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be Mark,” Jungwoo, my next door neighbor, tells me one night after dinner. I had accidentally ranted about my feelings for her after he commented on our framed picture on my nightstand. “Don’t worry too much about it, yeah?”

And then we chow down on snacks and play video games - content.

Because if it’s meant to be, then it’ll be.

And then, before I know it, we’re both on the road, off to college.

College brings stress.

With that, college brings outlets to relieve stress. While college brought me a new guitar and hours in the studio, college brought her Lucas.

Lucas Huang.

He’s a barista at the coffee shop she really seems to like (but now I’m not sure if she liked it for the coffee or because of him).

Lucas is kind, from what my classmate, Jaemin, tells me. He’s a freshman, like us. He’s kind of an airhead but his heart is in the right place. He’s on a basketball scholarship. He comes from a poor family but was blessed with amazing athletic abilities that lead him to receive a full ride to the college we attended. He’s humble. He’s nice.

He makes YN’s heart pound.

They have math class together and he asks her to tutor him.

“But you suck at math,” I laugh as she glares at me over her drink.

“Yeah but Yukhei doesn’t know that,” she snorts.

“Yukhei?” I repeat.

She sighs, as if she’s offended that I didn’t know who the hell Yukhei was. “Lucas,” she grumbles. “Now if you excuse me, I’m late for tutoring.”

“Whatever,” I roll my eyes as she gets up from the table and leaves to the library.

And then it’s like...all she can ever talk about to me is Yukhei. Yukhei this or Yukhei that. Yukhei, Yukhei, Yukhei.

Yukhei who is sooo good at basketball. Yukhei who smells sooo good. Yukhei who is sooo cool. Yukhei who is sooo funny. Yukhei, Yukhei, Yukhei-

“Enough already, dammit!” I snap at her. Maybe I was irritated because I hadn’t slept in two days. Maybe I was annoyed because I had a raging headache from downing coffee after coffee to keep me from falling asleep. Maybe I was hurt because my person was once more, falling for someone who wasn’t me. “I don’t give a damn about Wong Yukhei, YN! And if that’s all you came here to discuss with me then go back to your stupid dorm! I invited you here to make sure you eat! Not to hear about how head over heels you are for that- that- that airhead!”

She huffs, standing up so abruptly that I almost spill my takeout. “I don’t know what your problem is Mark but you had no right to snap at me like that,” she crosses her arms.

“If you knew my problem, you’d understand why I’m acting this way,” I mutter under my breath.

“I’m leaving,” she says, gathering her things from around me just as I notice little raindrops beginning to pelt against the window.

“Hey,” I stop her at the door. “You forgot this.” I throw my umbrella her way and see the way her face softens just a bit.

“Text me when you’re done throwing your fit,” she tells me.

“Don’t count on it,” I reply as I lazily shut the door.

Doyoung, my roommate, laughs as I throw myself down on the bed.

“It truly pains me to watch you, Mark. It truly does,” he says.

“I’m going to sleep. Enjoy your food, hyung. Don’t wake me up until she’s done with her Yukhei phase.”

And I fall asleep.

The next time I wake up, it’s to a body squishing itself between me and the wall. I open my eyes and see a familiar head of hair. I turn to see if Doyoung is home but he isn’t - probably out for the night with his friends like always.

“YN?” I push her hair back. “What’s wrong?”

”I’m an idiot,” she mutters, face flush against my chest. “He has a girlfriend back in China, Mark. A whole ass girlfriend who he’s very loyal to and who he calls all the time and who he loves. And he only told me that after I confessed. What the fuck! I’m a big idiot.”

“Hey, don’t say that. You didn’t know,” I soothe her, sitting up. I reach over and grab the water bottle off the nightstand, thrusting it her way. “If it’s meant to be, then it’ll be.”

She takes a sip after sitting up herself before screwing the cap back on, and leans against the wall. “Yeah. I guess.”

“What?” I know that look. I’ve seen it plenty of times. That look when she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she wants to say it. “YN, just say it.”

“It’s just...what you said to me,” she shrugs.

“What about it?”

“Well,” she says. “What if there’s something that you want, something that you want so badly that you feel like it’s meant to be but in the end, it isn’t? Then what?”

I shrug, too choked up by everything to say anything. It’s suddenly too hot in here and I can’t breathe.

“Like, haven’t you ever liked someone so much and swore you were meant for that person but in the end, you weren’t meant for them?” she asks. I swear she’s doing this on purpose. My palms begin to sweat the more she speaks. “Like...isn’t that just sad? Loving someone who you know wouldn’t ever love you back in that way?”

“Yeah, sucks.” Those are the only words I can manage, my throat too dry for much else. I take the water from her and gulp down half of the bottle in a single take.

“Mark? You okay?” she asks.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I nod. “Yeah, let’s just go to bed. I haven’t slept in days,” I remind her before throwing myself down onto the pillow.

She resumes her previous position of having her head on my chest and plays with one of the strings on my hoodie. If she can feel my heart pounding, she doesn’t mention it. Instead, she sighs and says, “Thanks for this, Mark. You’re gonna make somebody very lucky someday, you know?”

I bite my lip. “YN?” She hums in response. “Can I ask you something?” Her eyes flutter up at me, expectantly waiting for me to continue. “Do you think...do you think that it’s okay for two best friends to date?”

“Like how close is their friendship?” she replies. “Why? Are you in love with Jaemin?” she gasps.

“What?! No! Jaemin is not my best friend, by the way. It’s-“ I stop before I say her name. “Just...tell me.”

“Well,” she begins. “If they’re best friends like that and the feeling is mutual then why not?”

“Best friends like that?”

“Yeah. Like...best friends who have always had heart eyes for each other. Not best friends like us.”

“Like us?” I frown.

“Yeah. We’ve never felt that way about each other! That’s why we’re so close and there’s so much trust. No looking so see if there are other intentions or anything like that. It’s just...you and I. Ride or die. Besties for the resties! Right?”

And she breaks my heart for the millionth time.

“Right,” I reply.

Because even if I see her in that light, even if I love her in that way, even if I want to give her the world, I can’t be selfish enough to tell her that. Not when she’s still in the dark, not when she’s already got her hands full with another person’s adoration.

My best friend will always see me as just her best friend.

But I love her so much that I’d rather have that than not have her at all.

Because that’s what happens when your best friend only sees you a friend.

the end.

#workofmark; nct #mark lee #mark lee scenario #mark lee one shot #mark lee au #nct 127 #nct u #nct 2018 #nct dream #wayv #mark lee nct 127 #mark lee nct u #mark lee nct dream #mark lee nct 2018 #nct scenario #nct au #nct one shot

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blancheludis · 4 years

Link

Tagging: @tokky231

Fandom: Marvel, Avengers Characters: Tony Stark/Steve Rogers, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Bruce Barton, Steve Rogers Chapters: 32/?, Words: 177.126

Summary: Tony meets his soulmate under the worst possible circumstances. It is not just a kidnapping gone wrong. It turns out Steve and his gang picked him on purpose and they want some personal revenge. If only he had managed to say the words written on his soulmate’s arm before they threw him back out into the streets.

—

JARVIS announces Steve’s arrival at the tower when Tony is in his workshop, grease on his nose and wearing yesterday’s clothes. The message leaves him frozen for several seconds.

“Do you want me to let him in, sir?”

“Yes,” bursts over Tony’s lips before his mind has fully caught on. When it does, he nods and says again, “Yes.”

After their dinner, Tony tried to view their short-lived acquaintance to be over. They beat the bad guy together but that was not enough to equip them to handle the aftermath.

Try as he might, Tony cannot even blame Steve. To be asked to leave their entire life behind for a stranger, no matter the words on their arms, is too much. Tony sees this now, and yet he would do it again. He cannot keep being affiliated with the Avengers. Not if he ever wants to see a shadow again without the fear of being stabbed.

Perhaps he is projecting his trauma on the wrong people. Despite the way they met, the Avengers have turned out to be steadfast allies, coming in to save him with little regard to their own safety. They came for him. But that is not enough.

If Steve is returning now, only two reasons come to mind for it. Either he is here to tell his goodbyes, or he has changed his mind. Even now, Tony is not sure which he would prefer. Nothing has become clearer since the day they met. On the contrary. Tony’s fear has mellowed, turned almost into a need. He is perfectly aware, however, that he does not always know what is good for him. And he cannot make any mistakes with this, not when he already feels like he consists mostly of cracks anymore.

“Colonel Rhodes has gone out to meet Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says into the brittle silence of the workshop.

That is what finally pushes Tony into motion. Whatever Steve is here for, he wants to hear it himself. Rhodey wants to keep him safe, but he could easily scare Steve away again, and Tony is tired of waiting.

Tony gets up quickly after saving his progress. On the way to the door, he looks down at himself. His trousers have holes, and the colours of his shirt have long ago faded into shades of grey. Nothing to do about that. This is who he is more often than the slick persona he dons for the press, so if Steve is not here to say goodbye, he will need to get used to that anyway.

As he steps into the elevator, he still wipes over his face and runs a hand through his hair, trying to tame it a bit. It is a hopeless case, but that has never stopped him before.

“If I may say so, sir, you look handsome as always,” JARVIS says, a note of humour in his voice.

Tony’s chest glows with warmth. In a way, JARVIS is programmed to take care of him, but even years after creating him it takes him by surprise that JARVIS actually does.

When the elevator door opens, he finds Steve a mere few feet away from him, stared down by Rhodey. At his arrival, they both turn around.

A hint of red is creeping up Steve’s neck and he looks generally flustered, while Rhodey’s expression is rather smug. Pity rises in Tony at the sight, but he squashes down on it mercilessly. Whatever Rhodey said, Steve deserves it.

“I don’t mean to interrupt you,” Tony says with more cheer than he feels. “I’d just like to hear whether Steve is here to stay.”

Steve stares at him, eyes roaming over Tony’s attire. Before Tony can wonder whether he should have taken the time to clean up a bit, a wave of heat smashes into him through the bond that has him almost staggering. So, he guesses he does not look too off-putting.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Rhodey says from somewhere behind them, voice muffled thanks to the deafening heartbeat in Tony’s ears.

He nods and then he hears steps getting quieter. He does not look away from Steve to confirm they are alone. And they are alone, for the first time ever, if one does not count JARVIS. Even in the café, Thor had been watching Tony’s back.

He is not sure what to make of the flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach that could be easily mistaken for fear. Tony knows better, though. He is thoroughly acquainted with fear thanks to the past weeks. This is a step up, harbouring the possibility for something more.

Steve still looks tired, dark badges under his eyes and a certain weariness to the curve of his lips. At the same time, he carries himself like he has lost a lot of the weight he was carrying around. His back is straight without the painful tension Tony has become used to seeing. His face is open, not hiding the hope nor the sense of being lost that is sitting in Tony’s own chest too.

They are alone and no one is out to kill Tony anymore. They have no more reason to hide from each other or, if they wanted, to stick around. This is the point where they decide their future. Tony has never been less prepared for anything.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says to break the silence long minutes after Rhodey has left.

That is like a slap in the face. Perhaps Tony has misinterpreted Steve’s presence. Perhaps the transmitted heat was shame and the desire to be anywhere but here.

“For coming?” Tony asks through clenched teeth. He has no right to feel disappointed, so he tries his best not to show it.

A grimace pulls at Steve’s features. It could mean anything, but Tony is sure it is nothing good.

“For – this.” Steve gestures at his arm.

Oh, Tony thinks, he means the heat and whatever it stands for. It should be flattering, of course. In a way, it is. Tony remembers the first thing he thought about Steve while he was merely semi-conscious in that warehouse was how attractive Steve is. All the drama they went through never really left time for them to look at each other, but he is. Almost like he was sculpted, a Greek statue come to life. Even his stubbornness equals the marble.

“It’s all right,” Tony says, hard-pressed to keep his tone neutral. Surely this is a good sign. They should probably not stumble from not-quite allies into being immediately attracted to each other, but it is a better start than being repulsed.

If he can see Steve as beautiful that means he cannot be afraid of him anymore. Right?

“I’ve just never seen you like this.” Steve gestures vaguely at Tony, his cheeks glowing with a faint red.

As if wearing faded band shirts and sticky jeans is somehow more attractive than a three-piece suit. Then again, the Avengers as a whole seem to have problems with businessmen and rich people, so this might really be a positive development for Steve.

Tony shakes his head. They are not here to talk about whether he looks good or not. “Well?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

For once, Tony is not trying to kid himself about the answer he wants. Other people might call him crazy and he is not so sure himself how sane he is, but he wants Steve to stay.

In the very beginning, he would have been glad to get rid of Steve. Things have changed insofar that Tony has seen Steve’s potential. He has been hurt by him, his wishes were ignored, but he has also been saved, has felt the same worry he sometimes sees in Rhodey and Pepper’s eyes. That has to mean something. If it does not work out, they can still go their separate ways. Maybe, though, fate is on to something. Even if they are not cut out to be the perfect match, Tony would like to put this matter to rest. Peacefully, if at all possible. The last weeks are already tainted with too much regret.

“I – we split,” Steve says and hangs his head as if afraid to see Tony’s action, even though this is what he asked for. “The team in DC still has to make a final decision but everybody here is in favour. We’ve agreed to – try our hands at other things.”

The misery is almost palpable in the air, making it clear how hard a step this was. But this is it, Tony realizes. Steve really did it. He met Tony’s insurmountable demand and has come here presumably to ask Tony to let him back in, considering that he has not appeared spitting poison and calling damnation down on Tony’s head for pushing him into this position.

“That’s good,” Tony says but winces at the reluctance in his own tone. He wanted this, he does not get to feel bad for Steve now. He has no reason to, anyway. The way he sees it, things were bound to go wrong at some point if the Avengers kept up their work.

“I think it is,” Steve agrees, going a long way in reassuring Tony, no matter how slowly he says the words, seemingly dragging them up from deep down. “So, I’m here.”

What now? Where do they go from here?

“Do you have somewhere to go?” Tony asks because that is easier than to talk about how the rest of the team took this, what Steve means with saying they have agreed to split up. Somehow, he does not think it is that easy.

Steve scratches his neck, not quite meeting Tony’s eyes. “I applied to college,” he says like there is nothing to it. “I can stay at the base until then.”

That takes Tony more by surprise than Steve’s presence. When he asked Steve to stop being a criminal, he did not really think about what he would do instead. Despite his hopes, he did not believe they would get that far.

College means he must be serious about this, building himself a ladder to the future. That is so much more than Tony could have hoped for.

“Or you could stay here,” Tony says before he knows what he is doing. He freezes, then decides to just roll with it. “In the tower, I mean, we have guest suites. Thor and Bruce are living in one. Just in case you want to. Comes with all the amenities.”

He cuts himself off before he can start rambling in earnest. The offer is not completely selfless. It has the advantage of Steve being close, yes, but more importantly, JARVIS can keep an eye on him here. It is not that Tony thinks Steve is lying to him, but they are still mostly strangers and trust does not come easy to Tony. Less so now than before.

Steve looks taken aback. It does come out of the blue, especially since they are still standing in the entrance hall of Tony’s home.

“I don’t want to crowd you,” Steve then says, sounding like he is afraid of refusing outright while being convinced that he should.

Tony cannot blame him for that. He has told Steve to stay away so many times, it makes no sense for him to change his mind now. Only it does. On an instinctual level he cannot explain.

“Have you seen this tower?” Tony asks by way of an explanation. “I’m safely tucked away up here. You can’t get to me if I don’t want you to.” The thought comes to him that it is now him pushing Steve into something he does not want. “Listen, this is just an offer. You’re welcome to stay, but I won’t force you.”

What a pair they make. Never quite committed to being enemies, just like they are now unable to make the jump to being something more.

“If you really don’t mind,” Steve says quietly, looking like he expects Tony to laugh and call gotcha.

Tony stares, needing a minute before the words register as what they are. An acceptance, however reluctant.

“I don’t,” Tony says, then turns back around to the elevator with a jerk of sudden energy. “Let me show you. You can decide then.”

He does not look whether Steve is prepared to follow him but simply presses the button and steps into the elevator when it comes. Any emotion from Steve could make him stop and he does not want that. Now that he has made the offer, he wants it to happen, bad idea or not.

They do not talk on the short elevator ride down. Tony looks at his phone, waiting for JARVIS to pull up a list of which suites are available. He has no intention of telling Steve about JARVIS just yet. In a way, that is his contingency.

Pepper is responsible for outfitting the guest floors, so they are welcomed by an elegant warmth, too artificial to be a real home but almost the next best thing. Thick carpets muffle their steps as they walk down the hall. Tony has the crazy idea to ask Steve about the artwork on the walls. He has had no hand in picking it, but this is his tower and now that he has invited Steve in, he cannot quite squash the need to impress him, if just a little bit.

They reach the last door of the hall and Tony swipes his card at the door scanner. He does not need to do that, of course, but he thinks that Steve, even in his dazzled state would notice the door opening on its own and ask some question. Better to keep his cards close to his chest while he is still wondering whether he is doing the right thing here.

Tony has not had much reason to visit the guest suites, but he knows their layout from when he planned the tower. They are spacy and welcoming. Large windows show the city and let the sunlight filter in unhindered. The furniture is light and elegant, sparse enough for the guests to decorate after their own wishes but placed strategically to give the picture of a complete home.

The kitchen is fully equipped, the bathroom bigger than some other people’s living room. This is not a place to be ashamed of. And yet, Tony awaits Steve’s judgement, tension creeping into his shoulders.

He stands stiffly in the middle of the living room and he watches Steve look around, noticing the careful placement of feet, how Steve avoids stepping on the carpet, how his shoulders are drawn up, how he swallows several times. This is a rejection waiting to happen. Tony thinks it is because of him and not the suit but his fingers are still itching to get his phone out and ask JARVIS whether a grander one is available.

Finally, Steve comes back to face him, trying to make himself smaller than he is. “This is too much, Tony,” he says and bites his lip as if to keep himself from adding something.

A lifetime of experience tells Tony that means that he is too much, not good enough. He takes a moment to breathe and then, on a whim, concentrates on the bond. If Steve is disgusted with him, he should be able to feel that. The bond just mirrors Steve’s discomfort, thrumming with tension. Tony does not know what to do with that.

“It’s being unused at the moment,” he says, pretending this is just about the suite. Tony fixes problems and finding new rooms for Steve is something he could do. Easier, in any case, than changing himself and their situation.

Steve nods, barely a stiff inclination of his head, but says, “Let’s – I’m not sure I should do this.”

Tony finches, too late to suppress it, and curses himself immediately after. Here he is, inviting Steve into his tower while he cannot even listen to him without battling old fears.

Steve notices. Of course, he does. “What?” he asks, stopping himself with a jerk from stepping forward. “What did I say?” He does reach out with his hand and leaves it hanging there awkwardly for a moment while they stare at each other, debating how misplaced such a reaction is.

It takes some effort to school his face into something reassuring, especially since the bond is pulsing with his elevated heartbeat, but Tony manages a small smile. “Nothing,” he says and shrugs. “That was just a bit close to your words.”

Steve stares at him, face full of shock and slowly morphing into realization and then dismay. “You don’t want to – does it hurt? The bond?” Almost as an afterthought, Steve adds, “It did that for me when Stane had you.”

It makes sense. Tony is constantly getting mirrored feelings from Steve, so how could it not be the same for him. Knowing that Steve had been rushing towards the warehouse, having a front-row seat to witnessing Tony’s panic and fear, feeling his heart break as if it were his own, leaves Tony cold. Such intimacy sits wrong with him. On the other hand, that is exactly why they are here.

“I had nightmares about it,” Tony says lightly, not sure why he admits that. It is done. They cannot change it anymore. And, in the time since, Tony has assembled a dozen more things to have nightmares of.

“You – oh.” Steve’s face falls. Where he was worried before, his expression now eases into something blank. His frown smoothens, his lips go slack, bloodless. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know –”

“It’s all right,” Tony lies, effectively cutting Steve off.

That first nightmare was born of the wish to go back and erase the words from his arm. At that time, they seemed to be the worst thing to ever happen to Tony. That has since been rectified.

“It’s not all right,” Steve argues vehemently. Golden sunlight is filtering in through the window behind him, bathing him in a glow that makes him almost look like a vengeful angel. “We hurt you and then I handled it in such an abysmal way afterwards. I’m sorry I didn’t back off. And I’m sorry you’re – afraid of me.”

The way Steve’s hair shines like a halo makes it impossible to look away. “It’s all right,” Tony repeats, this time more firmly. They will never get anywhere if they keep picking at everything they have done wrong. “If you had backed off, Obadiah would have likely succeeded in killing me. And I’m not afraid of you.”

Tony is not even sure himself whether that is a lie. He remembers the nightmare vividly, remembers having a visceral reaction when he mistook Thor for Steve before their interview. If he were dropped in the Avengers’ base right now with no direct way out, he might be afraid. But here and now, with sunlight streaming in through the windows that leaves no doubt about the remorse in Steve’s eyes, with JARVIS watching over them and several other people close by, Tony is not afraid. Not quite comfortable, either, considering what they are discussing, but he does not think Steve is going to hurt him.

Not physically, at least. When Steve takes a step back, out of the sunlight, Tony realizes that it would hurt him if Steve walked out of here right now.

“I should leave,” Steve says, face once again drawn tight and covered in shadow. “Thank you for the offer, but perhaps it is best if I left New York.”

The words sit between them, echoing inside Tony’s head. This is not how this is supposed to go. Steve cannot just leave after Tony put himself out there, offering if not a new start at least a new path, one with fewer potholes.

“Why would you do that?” Tony asks, surprising himself when his voice raises almost to a yell. He is brimming with sudden irritation, making him restless. He wishes he would have something to take apart to keep his fingers busy. Instead, he simply drums them against the side of his leg.

Steve’s eyes widen, taken by surprise by the sudden shift of mood. “Because you –”

Despite having asked, Tony does not want to hear Steve’s reasoning. Anger flares hot inside him.

“You don’t get to run away now,” he barks, taking a step forward. That only makes it more obvious that he is smaller than Steve but he does not care. “When I asked you to leave me alone you didn’t, and now that I’m asking you to figure this out with me, you’re turning your back on me? Is this how you do things? On your terms or not at all?”

Perhaps he made a mistake by bringing Steve here, by thinking they could reclaim some autonomy over their fate together. They truly have been doomed from the very beginning if Steve will not do anything when he is not the one initiating it, when everybody has to dance after his tune.

Steve looks like he wants to run. Shoulders hunched, legs hip-width apart, staring at Tony as if he has just seen him for the first time. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he says and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

A laugh bursts over Tony’s lips, brittle but sharp. He has made it clear what he wants, Steve just does not listen.

“I want you to stay so we can make sense of this,” he says, enunciating each word as clearly as his agitation allows. His fingers burn with the need to poke them into Steve’s chest or to shake his shoulders until he sees sense. “I want us to get our shit together and see what will be best for us.”

The need to build a time machine to stop all of this from happening has never been so strong.

Steve crosses his arms, showing clearly that nothing will be solved easily here. “Me leaving will obviously be best for you since you’re having nightmares about me,” he says, probably aiming for a reasonable tone.

All Tony hears is excuses, the same worry he has to fight inside him but that he refuses to give in to.

“I had nightmares about you,” Tony yells, then bites his lip as he tries to compose himself. “And don’t you think it’s my decision to make what’s best for me? Think hard about your answer because if you say no, I’m going to kick you back to DC myself.”

This was a bad idea, Tony sees that now. They cannot spend more than a minute together in one room without arguing when Tony is not in acute danger. His heart is not equipped to take that much stress.

Steve turns and starts walking, leaving Tony convinced that he will just march out. Out of the tower and out of Tony’s life, never to be heard of again. He should not be disappointed by that.

Instead, Steve steers towards the couch and sits down, looking like his legs would not have carried him for much longer. He rubs his eyes, blinks at the ground, while Tony stays frozen where he stands.

“I just don’t know what made you change your mind,” Steve then says, looking at Tony with eyes older than his years. They are both terribly tired.

A sigh escapes Tony’s lips. He is not entirely sure his opinion on them has changed. His feelings have, however. While he pretends to be a brain person instead of listening to his heart, he cannot fool himself in this matter.

His energy drained, Tony walks over to an armchair and sits opposite from Steve. “You did. By staying. By being stubborn. By helping me out of this.” He smiles slightly, tasting the bitterness of it. “We’re not friends, Steve, but we’re not enemies anymore either.”

They could be more is what he does not say, does not know how. They could still make something of this, something less tainted.

Steve lets his head hang for a moment, then tilts it up to look at Tony. “So, what now?”

That is what they have come here to solve. Tony does not have all the answers. “Let me deal with my company but stay in New York. Stay here,” he says, almost pleading. If Steve will leave, they should at least have tried this first. “Don’t run away until we’ve made a decision either way.”

Nothing in Steve’s expression changes but the bond is pulsing too quickly for Steve to be unmoved. Then, of course, he has to open his mouth. “The decision is up to you.”

Tony shoots up from his seat, frustration driving him back to his feet. “It’s not, dammit,” he snaps, glaring at Steve despite beginning to think that this is hopeless. “You’ve been thrown into this the same way I was. You’ve nursed your grudge against me, no matter whether it was justified. You were willing to hurt me and I’ve seen by now that that’s not exactly standard for you.” He takes a deep breath before he continues, reaching for calm. “Being bonded to me cannot be easy for you, and I’m not going to decide anything for the both of us. We both have to come to a decision ourselves and then we have to stand by it.”

The bond is a two-way street. Steve is fighting it as much as Tony does. As he should, considering their history. They need to be honest with each other here, otherwise, it would be kinder on the both of them to separate now, before they get in any deeper.

Steve stays silent for too long, so long that Tony is certain the answer is not going to be in his favour.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Steve then says, so quiet that it is almost gets lost, Tony’s heart is beating so loud. Then Tony wishes it did, thinking that is no real argument to make.

“You can’t lose what you don’t have.” The words come out less harsh than Tony expected. He does not mean to lash out to hurt Steve. “Listen, we have obvious problems with each other. Not just with what happened, but with the grand picture, too. We live very different lives. We have had vastly different experiences up until now. I want you to find out what you want. Then we can talk again.”

That sounds like he is sending Steve away. And perhaps he is. Perhaps he just wants something permanent instead of this constant limbo, never knowing what is going to hit him next. How can he ask Steve to know what he wants when Tony does not manage to do the same?

“You think it’s that easy?” Steve asks, looking up at Tony with a shadow passing over his face.

Tony is rooted in place. He is tired but he does not want to sit back down again. It helps to be taller than Steve, if only for the moment. “Not at all,” he admits, leaning back against the armrest of the chair. He does not try to be subtle about it. “But I’m not going to navigate this before we’ve not both thought this through, and without our adrenaline levels still high.”

At this point, Tony feels the only two states he is ever in anymore are high on adrenaline and dead on his feet. There is no middle ground. Even in his workshop, he cannot stop thinking about everything that is happening, everything that is still coming.

Steve appears to shrink into the cushions, looking like he is not going to argue. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Tony says. He is sick of apologies, even while he is sure they are not done with those yet. Not by far. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

Surprise has Steve’s head shooting up, eyes wary. “For what?”

They do not have time for the entire list, even though it is running permanently in the back of Tony’s head. He can give Steve the short version, though, the ones that matter most in here. “Bucky’s arm. Sam’s partner. All the people I’ve killed.”

With a jerk, Steve moves forward. Even sitting down his hand almost reaches Tony. Again, he holds himself back.

“You haven’t killed anyone,” Steve says with a vehemence mirrored in his expression. “We were wrong to blame you for that. You shouldn’t take this on.”

It is a relief, hearing that conviction, even if Tony cannot really allow himself to believe it. Weeks ago, he was preaching about accountability to the press. He is not going to bow out already.

“They are still my weapons. My company,” Tony says, keeping his face calm even though each word stings like a fresh cut. “I didn’t know, but I should have.”

Should is one of the words Howard used to love. You should be better. You should not waste your time on irrelevant things. I should have left before I knew what a disappointment you would be.

Should is just a cover for a collection of failures. No one has ever made the world better by dealing with should-haves.

“That’s not –” Steve cuts himself off and just breathes for a moment while he looks at Tony, taking him in as if he might not get another chance. “All right, we’ll think about it, and then we’ll talk.”

Relief paints over the sliver of disappointment Tony feels inside his stomach. Part of him wants to have this argument now, wants to either be the villain or to be defended. Since Steve is promising him to talk later, though, chances are high they are not done

“Great,” Tony says, nodding to himself, slightly at a loss at being cut off in his tirade against himself. “Let me know whether you’ll take the suite, then I’ll send someone to key you into the system.”

He watches as Steve takes another long look at their surroundings. It is stupid, really. What was he thinking? That the man whose job involves way too many warehouses and back alleys, who lives in a secret base, would appreciate an apartment in the most visible building in New York? Ridiculous.

“I would like to stay,” Steve says, catching Tony completely off-guard. He even sounds earnest about it, eyes crinkling.

“Good, good,” Tony mutters, even while he still wonders whether he has misheard. He takes a step towards the exit, thinking he should go while Steve’s verdict is still in his favour. “I might need some time. There’s just so much to do for the company.”

This is not just an excuse. Since Pepper has officially taken over, Tony’s schedule has only gotten worse. He trusts her to know what she is doing, though, and they have scraped disaster close enough for him to be on his best behaviour.

“I understand,” Steve says, showing no sign of impatience, even though Tony is basically pushing him away right after insisting they need to talk. “Call me when you have the time.”

Time will not be the problem. Tony has always been good at making time for the things that are most important to him. Alas, he is also good at procrastinating when it comes to emotional matters.

“And you tell me to stay away if you need more time to think,” Tony insists. He meant that this is a two-sided matter.

Tony has been pushed around all his life, he does not want to do the same to Steve.

“I will,” Steve promises. The curve of his brow speaks of his stubbornness. “But, Tony, if you have any more nightmares about me – just tell me.”

Tony will most definitely not. New nightmare material has accumulated, enough so that Tony is sure Steve will not feature much. Why would he, when real monsters are lurking in the shadows of Tony’s mind?

Still, the smile Tony manages is brittle around the edges. “That only makes sense if you’d actually stay away this time.”

He regrets his words a bit when Steve’s expression falls, giving way to something dark, full of haunting regret.

“I would,” Steve says in a grave tone. “I promise you.”

There is nothing else to do but believe him. Tony knows liars and whatever else Steve might be, he is not that. Less clear is why Tony feels a stab at hearing that, as if Steve leaving, even at Tony’s behest, would actually be a loss.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

They look at each other for a moment longer, no more words between them. Then Tony nods and turns, telling himself he is not fleeing.

He feels Steve’s eyes in his back as he walks back down the hall to the elevator, and when he is out of sight, the feeling is still echoed through the bond. He is not at all sure whether he has made the right decision. At the same time, he is glad that Steve is here. That is a step forward at last. Now they just have to make something of it.

#stony #slow burn #fanfiction #tony stark #steve rogers #soulmates #marvel #they're getting there #my writing #ao3 #leave the gun on the table #also life is still crazy #lanzelot is dead #my fish #which means merlin is now all alone and glaring at me #or he's hungry #probably the latter

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