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unwantedtomost · 3 years

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it had been months — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 4,401 words

summery: it had been nine months since you and your first real long term boyfriend broke up. but as they say, time makes the heart grow fonder ... and it also made the lust build up.

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, cheating, kind of a breeding kink at the end, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: i have never actually posted a whole thing on here before, so i hope this goes well. i know my writing can improve, but it’s pretty good i would say. enjoy!

It had been months since you had broken up with your long-term boyfriend. Your first long-term boyfriend you had since you arrived to the Hollywood scene. Nine months, to be exact. The same amount of time it would have been to carry a child. A hypothetical child. The same hypothetical child that ruined your relationship in the first place.

“You don’t want kids?” Sebastian questioned as soon as you entered the shared apartment. The topic of children came up at dinner with your shared friends. You, offhandedly said: “God, no,” with a laugh, not giving it a second thought. Not till now.

“Not really,” you said as you unzipped your heeled boots. “I never really have, not since I was younger.”

“Never?” He asked, heart starting to beat heavier.

You looked up to him, concerned when you saw his face. It was the same face he had on every time you guys got in a face, mixed with disappointment, maybe even hurt. You smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“Maybe not never,” you said, putting your shoes away. “But not at least for ten years, maybe even longer. I mean, I am only twenty-two. I would like a good life without children before bringing them into the mix.”

Your warm smile and calm demeanor did nothing to elevate the tension, something inside you saying it did the exact opposite. He looked serious and upset, a combination you never saw much.

“In ten years I’ll be almost fifty,” Sebastian states.

“So? Guys never really stop shooting out good rounds. All my parts will still be intact by that time too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” You were confused. Why was he acting like this?

“I shouldn’t be old enough to be the kid’s grandfather.”

Anger started to bubble up as well. This tone that he had made you pissed off. He was talking like you were stupid like you didn’t get what he was saying. The brassiness you had in general not helping your temper.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started dating someone sixteen years younger than you,” you shot back.

Then the yelling started. Something that could have been a deep, meaningful conversation (one that frankly should have been had way before this point) turned into a full-blown fight. You both started going in at each other, picking at old scabs that you knew would hurt. That was the point, after all, you just wanted to hurt each other. Because you were mad and upset, you guessed, but by the end of it, you weren’t even sure.

The fighting ended two hours later, you sat, slumped on the couch, huffing. You tried to catch your breath from all the yelling. Your throat was hoarse, your cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“It seems like we’re not gonna work out then,” you said, numb.

“Seems so.”

And you left that night, grabbing nothing but your phone before making your way to your closest friend’s house.

After that, you cried for two months straight. You really thought that Sebastian was endgame. That you would be together forever. That you would be happy. Ever since you caught sight of him at your first audition, you felt that he was the one. Then the universe laughed maniacally as it showed you just how fucking wrong you were.

In the past nine months, you had seen him approximately sixteen times, most being in passing, a few being at parties, and one time being at a coffee shop that you both loved. You started to frequent it less after the breakup, too scared to bump into him. Little did you know, he was doing the same thing. The day you two saw each other was both of your first times in three months.

It was all stupid small talk until it wavered, forced laughs and fake smiles fading as the reality of the situation simmered in.

“Look, y/n—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You simply couldn’t. “It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” You took a few steps before turning back around for a moment. He looked at you like he was expecting you to run into his arms and make everything go back to normal. “And I really hope you meet a girl that can give you what you need.”

He tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t let him. You simply walked away and left him, alone. That was the last time you had spoken to him.

It was five months after the breakup until you let your friends talk you into going out again. And that night you had run into none other than the Timothee Chalamet. Numbers were exchanged then the next thing you knew, you were naked in his hotel room. After that, you went through a bit of a “hoe stage.” Every two weeks you were on a cover of TMZ, E!, or any other celebrity gossip magazine that existed with a “possible new thing.” The people ranged from Tom Holland to Madison Beer, and no one knew what was true or not. After the first few batches came out, you stopped giving a shit. You were allowed to rebound with whomever or however you wanted to, and you were taking full advantage of that.

You were so busy juggling so many people that you hadn’t even thought about Sebastian. Not till right now. Your eyes catch his from across the ballroom that you’re currently in. Your pulse quickens rapidly, you feel like you might even faint. If it wasn’t for Timothee’s hand on your waist, you were sure you would have collapsed on the spot. You watched as Sebastian’s jaw clenched just like it did whenever you did something he disapproved of. Just like it did every time he gave into himself and read one of those stupid gossip sights and saw you all over whatever arm candy you had chosen for the week.

“I’ll be right back, okay babe?” Timothee said, kissing you on the cheek. He waited for you to nod before making his way to one of his friends.

You don’t know what to do and those beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with all that time ago refuse to leave yours. You feel like you want to cry, or scream, or throw up, but you know that you shouldn’t actually do any of those things. You’d draw attention and you don’t want any more people talking about you.

Luckily, one of your best friends, Elizabeth, pulls you into a tight hug and brings you back to earth. Her body feels warm and it makes you feel safe, the smell of her strawberry shampoo bringing you comfort.

“I know,” she said before you spoke. “I saw. Are you okay? I’ll leave with you right now if you want to.”

It takes you a minute to process everything, and even though you’re running everything through your mind, nothing really sinks in.

“I’ll be fine,” you say with conviction, though you don’t know if it’s true at all. “Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You stop talking for a minute before smiling at Elizabeth. “Now, let’s go give the people what they want and take some pictures together.”

It had been two hours and the event was finally coming to a close. No more than forty-five minutes and the place would be cleared out. With that knowledge, you went to go take advantage of the free bar stocked up with expensive liquor. After schmoozing with people you did not even want to interact with, you deserve it.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke, please,” you say to the rather cute bartender, shoulders slumping.

As soon as the two shot glasses were in front of you, you downed them. It burned like hell and you could only imagine the ungodly face you made. You tried to chase it with the rum and coke, but it didn’t help much. You heard a gruff voice beside you order something, one that was very familiar. When you heard a chuckle, you knew for sure who was right next to you. You froze again, that same dizzy, sick feeling coming back. You turned your head slowly to see those big blue eyes for the second time tonight, your heart surely beating loud enough that anyone in a mile radius could hear it.

“You look beautiful tonight, y/n,” Sebastian said, leaning against the bar, facing you.

“You do too,” you blurt out. Face turning red after you realized that you’re fucking stupid. “I mean, you look—shit. You look very nice, Seb—Sebastian.”

You’re so flustered and red, you want to simply sink into the floor. For a moment, you wonder why he isn’t acting the same way. It could be that he had already had some to drink or maybe he was just better at controlling his emotion. And the thought that makes dread flow through you is that maybe he is just over you.

“Are you going to an after-party?” He asks, sipping from his glass.

“I don’t think so,” you say. You were supposed to go to one with Timothee, where you were finally going to announce that you two had become official, but now you just want to go home. “Are you?”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’ll just have a few more of these back home and go to bed.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” you say, hinting. You know what you are trying to get across but you don’t know why. It’s like your mouth was moving before your brain could understand what you were doing.

“It’s not ideal,” he said. “But I really don’t have a date to drink with, unlike you.” He pointed towards Timothee talking to a director you hastily met.

“He’s not my date,” you shot out. “I mean, he is, but we’re not like, dating.” Why the fuck are you talking!?!?

“It’s none of my business,” Sebastian said. He didn’t sound mean, he sounded like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know … but we’re not … if you were wondering.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your elbow. “It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

He turned to start walking away but you called after him, making him turn back around. “Wait!” Once he was facing you, you felt like you were in a movie. “I could go for a drink.”

Sebastian smiled but his eyes dismissed you. “What are you doing, sugar?” He warned.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But don’t shut me down.”

With a shared smile, he took your hand and you both left the party. On the car ride back to his apartment (that used to be your apartment), you thought briefly about how you would explain this to Timothee in the morning. Then you turned off your phone so you didn’t have to feel guilty if he decided to text you. Neither of you spoke much on the way. His hand never left its place on your thigh before you were finally there.

When he opened the door, you stumbled lightly into the apartment. Sebastian caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He lightly sat you down on the chair by the entrance (the same one you had sat at nine months ago). Once he had closed the door and put his things down, he came back to you to help slip off your heels.

“Are you already drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just a wee bit tipsy.”

“Your ‘wee bit’ is usually a lotta bit.”

“Not this time, I really mean just a wee wee bit.” You suddenly burst out laughing at the fact you just said wee wee, giving away the fact that you are indeed close to being drunk.

“Maybe you don’t need anymore to drink,” Sebastian said.

“C’mon, Sebby, take that stick out of your ass,” you say, making him laugh. It makes you feel lighter like you weren’t fucking shit up again. Like you weren’t making a mistake you would regret in the morning.

You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, pouring both of you a glass of red wine. Your favorite and most expensive red wine, the one that you had left at the apartment after the breakup. You wondered if it was the same bottle, or if he had done the same thing he was doing with you with another girl. When he came back, he handed you the glass which you placed down on the coffee table, realizing you were still in a designer white dress that you didn’t own.

“Shit,” you muttered after your realization.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t my dress.”

His eyes wandered down your figure as he thought. “You can take that off and I can hang it up for you. I’m sure there’s something here you can wear.”

You nodded before he was walking towards the bedroom, the one you once shared. You followed after him through the small hall. You looked around the room, noticing how boring it looked now. None of your decorations you had were up anymore, but the small mural you once painted in the middle of the night was still in full view. Did he think about you every time he saw it? If he did, why didn’t he just paint over it?

Sebastian placed one of his shirts (that was your favorite one to wear) and a pair of shorts you had thought you lost on the bed.

“Well, you can get changed in here,” he stated before going for the door.

“Actually,” you called out, stopping him from leaving. “Can you unzip me please?”

He paused for a moment before nodding, slowly making his way back to you. The room went silent as he softly collected your hair and moved it to one side. Heat started to rise through your body at the close proximity he held. His hands grazed your shoulders momentarily before he steadily unzipped the expensive dress. You caught his eyes in the mirror in front of you, your cheeks immediately burning red. He finished unzipping the dress before helping you slide it off your arms. You had to cover your breasts with your arm since you hadn’t worn a bra. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body before, he knew his way around there better than you did, but not covering yourself just felt inappropriate. But, to be fair, the entire situation felt inappropriate. The dress fell to a pool around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace black underwear, ones that Sebastian had bought for you one month before you broke up. You stepped out of the dress, eyes never leaving his. He bent down to pick it up, blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

“I’ll go lay this on the guest bed,” Sebastian said plainly before leaving the room and closing the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you let your arm fall. Even though you hadn’t even had a conversation with Sebastian in six months, being in that moment felt more intimate than anytime you had sex with Timothee—or anyone, for that matter. You pulled on the worn-out gray tee shirt that vaguely had ‘Coca-Cola’ printed across it before going out to the living room where you found Sebastian sipping on his wine, now dress in an old tee and grey sweatpants.

The next hour felt like a blur, it was filled with giggles and stupid comments. By the end of it, the wine bottle was empty and you two were officially wine drunk. Now, you were slumped on the couch (the one that you picked out), leaning towards Sebastian, hand dancing along the cushion space between you two.

“Have you realized we never had a goodbye?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asked, not wanting his guess to what you were talking about to be right.

“I mean, we had a fight and I left then we were done. There were no ‘this is for the best’ speeches or attempts at a goodbye kiss. One day there was an us and the next it was … nothing.” You looked up at him, an innocent yet quizzical look on your soft features.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said.

Not this shit again. “I know,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about anything. We’re not together anymore. We don’t even need to acknowledge each other’s existence anymore. But tonight, you did, and now we’re on your couch.”

“I don’t—” he started, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“We don’t have to talk about it then. But, I do have another question. Did you ever fuck anyone here?” The words flowed out before you could think any longer, nothing but courage and alcohol running through your body.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Sebastian. I just want to know if you ever fucked someone in my—our—this place.”

His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, voice sharp and clear. “No, y/n, I have never fucked anyone in this place. No one but you.”

That answer made you happy. This place, your place, was still pure. No random hookups had tramped through the place where you lived.

“Good,” you accidentally said out loud, making him upset.

“Why does it even matter? It’s not like you weren’t fucking those young things you were all over in public.” He started to get angry at the thought. “Who are you to question me about my sex life after you broke up with me then pranced around tabloid covers for months with different people each week?”

“Because this was our house, I just want to know it wasn’t tainted by blonde bitches with names you didn’t even remember in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only blonde bitch I’ve fucked.”

Suddenly, your hand was moving and your palm was connecting with his face. It shocked both of you, making you both freeze in place. It took ten seconds before Sebastian grabbed the wrist you hit him with, yanking it so you were closer to him. So close you could feel his breath on your face.

“Slap me again and see what fucking happens, I dare you,” he spit out.

Then your heart was in your ass as your stomach erupted with butterflies and your panties soaked with arousal.

It was almost like you lost all control over your body as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and tugging at the hair there. The intentional scruff on his face was harsh against your smooth skin, but it only elevated your pleasure. Sebastian’s hands went around the sides of your neck, one kind of cupping your face while the other was closer to the back to pull you closer. You felt like you needed to get closer to him, get as close as possible. You needed every single inch of him over every single part of yourself. Your leg swung, straddling him.

Without thinking, you rutted yourself against his thigh, a guttural moan coming from your lips as you did. It’s not like you hadn’t been touched in a while, you just got fucked a few days ago, but you hadn’t experienced something as hot as this in so long. It was rushed and needed, you felt like you would die if he stopped. Your hips absent-mindedly grinded down against his thigh again.

“Fuck, ride my thigh baby,” he ordered. You listened, slipping into your old ways. You continued to rut against his thigh as you kissed. He knew you were getting close by the moans you were letting out into the kiss. He pulled away from your lips, watching as you were losing yourself. “I want you to cum for me, sugar.”

Your hips slowed as your mind raced a mile a minute. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum from just his thigh. What would that do to his already inflated ego? It sounded like bullshit to give into him.

“No,” you mumbled out, your hips threatening to halt their movement.

“No?” He repeated.

You sat there for a minute, silent as his eyes frantically studied your face to see what the point was. He wondered if you wanted to stop, he would understand completely, but he knew that wasn’t what it was by the way you keep clenching your thighs together. Sebastian smirked as he realized what was really happening. He grabbed your hips and started to push you down on his thigh. The problem was that you wanted to cum, but you didn’t want to cum for him. Too bad he was determined on it.

You moaned loudly as he started to drag your hips. You were inching so close, the fact that you didn’t want to give in to the feeling made it feel like it was only becoming stronger. Your hands grabbed his old t-shirt as you frantically moved your hips back and forth. Your nose scrunched and your eyes shut tight, your mouth letting out a whisper of “oh fuck”s on a loop.

“That’s it,” you heard Sebastian say even though his voice sounded like it was miles away. “Cum like a good girl.”

Suddenly, all the pressure that was building up deep within your tummy snapped and you were on cloud 9. Your heat pulsed as you road out your orgasm, Sebastian's hands helping you immensely. It took a good minute of pants as you caught your breath before you opened your eyes and came back to reality.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered to him when you finally made eye contact again.

“I know,” he smirked. “Now be a good girl, sugar, and take off your pants.”

You questioned arguing with him more, but you decided not to. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad. You stood up and pulled down your shorts, doing a little spin so Sebastian could marvel at how wonderful you looked.

“As beautiful as those look on you, darling, they’d look better on the floor.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you stripped out of the underwear as well, leaving you in nothing but an old grey t-shirt. You went back to your place on Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. You felt like you were melting into him entirely as everything snapped back into place. Your hands roamed lower, palming him through his grey sweats. You smirked to yourself at the realization of how hard he was already and at the fact he wasn’t wearing boxers. He lifted his hips to help you pull down his pants. Just as you were getting ready to place his member in the place you wanted him the most, he halts your movement by grabbing your wrist.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom, y/n,” he warned. You frowned, upset that he had stopped you.

“I don’t care.”

“But you still have that IUD in, right?”

You grimaced because no, you did not. Your five years had run out two months ago and you hadn’t gotten around to making an appointment for a new one. You shook your head slowly side to side before he sighed. He went to pull you off of him but you stopped him by holding onto his shoulders

“I don’t care,” you repeated.

“Y/n, you know why can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Besides the fact you could get pregnant?”

“I don’t care,” you said one more time. “I want you.”

He looked into your eyes, trying his best to decipher your intentions.

“Y/n …”

“Get me pregnant, Sebby,” you said, meaning it too. “I want you, I want your kids. Fuck, I want us back. I don’t care if that means kids and a white picket fence. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, you slowly leaned down and your lips touched. It was nothing like the kisses you had shared preferably, it was slow and soft. He pulled you closer, finally letting you lower yourself down on him. You both let out loud moans as you sink down on his member.

It was like you had forgotten what making love felt like, probably because you did. In the past nine months since you had split, you hadn’t made love with anyone once. It was all just meaningless sex or hot fucking, but there was no love behind it. You didn’t love Timothee, you hadn’t loved any of your flings. Maybe it was because you never stopped loving Sebastian—you were almost sure it was because of that.

You moved up and down whilst Sebastian thrust up into you. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and praises from both ends. He started to kiss your neck as his thumb started to rub your clit. The multiple amounts of stimulation only brought you closer to your climax.

“I’m gonna, fuck—I’m close.”

“I know, babygirl,” he cooed. “Look at me.” You looked into his blue orbs, feeling your climax inching ever so closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined out as your hips moved faster. “Cum inside me, Sebastian. Get me—fuck, god—put a fucking baby in me.”

With your confirmation, he flipped you on your back, thrusting harder. The hand that wasn’t toying with your clit interlaced with yours. Your grip on each other squeezed harder as you neared your finishes. You wrapped your legs around him as his hips started to stutter.

“Cum with me, baby,” Sebastian groaned.

You finally let the coil that built inside of you snap with his permission. Moments later, he busted inside of you, making you both yell out. He collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to crush you under his weight. You both panted for minutes before you finally spoke up.

“I love you,” you said. He lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped.

“Neither did I,” Sebastian said. “Did you mean it, you want to have kids?”

“I want to do anything if it means I can be with you. Anything.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #marvel smut #marvel men smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #fanfic #tfatws

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tetralea · 2 years

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How about sugar daddy Seb and sugar baby Charles?

Charles likes to show a lot of skin and provoke Seb with it. Seb doesn't show it in public how annoyed he is but when they get home he punishes Charles for it, maybe edges him a few times and reminds him that he is only his.

Ohoooo 😏😏😏 ok, it got out of hand, so thank you for sending it in, I hope you’ll like what it become hehe

I can imagine that they are on a vacation together everyone knows about their relationship but the extent of it is unknown to the public. So Charles decides to wear some shorts and a shirt for the majority of the day, however the white cotton is either just hanging on his shoulders or is buttoned only at the bottom showing his pretty chest to everyone, everywhere they go. Seb first doesn’t think much but then he sees people staring, staring at his Charles in ways only he is allowed to. Then Charles makes it even worse by flirting with the kind bartender, the guy they rented their car from, the concierge, a stranger who was supposed to be lost, and the waiter too. So it was starting to be a tiny bit too much for him mostly when Charles decides to discard the shirt entirely. He doesn’t really show it but back in the room he already knows how he will punish his little slut baby.

When they are alone he makes Charles strip. ‘Come on, you showed yourself to everyone today, don’t be shy now.’ He is smirking, it is mean, but he doesn’t feel like he would be cruel, only level headed. The boy is standing in front of him completely naked by the time he finds what he was looking for. A small plug is in his hand, and Charles recognises it immediately. It is not too wide but it is weighted because at some point he figured what drives Charles crazy is the weight of his cock in his pretty ass, so he bought a special plug. ‘You can decide if you want me to help you wearing it or you’ll do yourself.’ Of course he then helps Charles wearing it, already making him hard. The let’s the younger one walk around the suite like that, naked, his cock either completely hard hanging heavy between his legs or half erect, the weight of the plug making him feel so full, his cock can’t soften.

So whenever he sees fit, he asks Charles next to himself starting to jerk him, until he is at the edge. ‘That’s it, baby, you can go now.’ He dismisses the more and more desperate boy. Then after a while Charles is always hard, his is beyond aroused from the constant edging, and now he is begging to Seb to let him cum. ‘Now, now baby. It has been only a few hours, I thought you like to show off.’ Now maybe it was cruel but he enjoyed it way too much, always making sure Charles really can take it. By the end on the night when he called for the brunette in their bedroom Charles is eager, sucking him off fast and hard, his body shivering and shaking on the silky sheets as Seb finally fucks him after at least ten or more edges. By the time he is allowed to cum he is constantly leaking and spills so easily into Seb’s hands moaning his name.

‘Tomorrow. I’d think twice what to wear.’ Seb chuckles while gently soaking up all the cum with a wet towel, gently caressing the damp skin after.

‘I thought you’d like it.’ Charles confesses.

‘I love watching you, you are beautiful, but not everyone deserves to see it baby. But if you want tomorrow we can go to the private pool and you can show as much skin for me as you’d like.’ He presses a gently kiss on the brown mop of hair, of course his sweet boy was doing it only for him. He could never think otherwise. ‘You know what if you’d be good I’ll give you a reward later.’ Little did Charles knew the reward was not only a night full of pleasure, but a shiny white gold ring and a very important question as well.

#charles leclerc #sebastian vettel #sebchal #sebchal smut #f1 #dori’s bedtime stories

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viking-raider · 4 years

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The Crimson Moon *MATURE*

Summary: Your friend drags you out to a strip club for your birthday. But, you end up with more than just a lap dance from one mustached, blue-eyed stripper.

Pairing: August Walker/You

Word Count: 8,716

Rating: MATURE - Smut, Language, Lap Dances, Strippers, Stalking (if you squint hard enough) Oral - F Receiving, Light Dom!August, Light Bondage, Expeditionism, Unprotected Sex, Dirty Talk, Cream Pie, Double life

Inspiration: This Anon @littlefreya received (x)

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @henrycavell, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @magic-and-the-macabre, @stxphmxlls, @radaofrivia, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @starstruckkittyangel, @heartfelt-pen, @stuckupstucky, @dummiesshort, @la-cey, @singeramg, @queenoftheworldisdead, @brooklymw, @raspberrydreamclouds

The Crimson Moon

Flashed the sign on the front of the building your friend was dragging you into.

The building, as the sign indicated, was a Crimson-Red color, accented with Charcoal-Black, the parking lot was dimly lit, giving the whole place a secretive and hushed vibe about it. You didn't want to go into it even more, the closer you got to it, even though you knew it wasn't like the seedy, Club O on 12th street, downtown. The Crimson Moon was a high-end and classy establishment, you needed a membership to enter this strip club, or you knew someone that one.

Enter your best friend, Baeli.

Baeli had an unapologetic obsession with men, typically, Chippendales, Firefighters or Cop type males. She had a reputation for going to the Crimson Moon and tipping the strippers so well, her membership was upgraded to Gold, which was how she was allowed to kidnap you and force you into going with her.

“Bae, I don't want to spend my birthday in a strip club.” You complained, sighing as you both stopped at the door leading inside.

“Oh, come on!” Baeli huffed, flipping her blond hair at you, the powerful wall of her perfume hitting you square in the nose. “Let's see one show, then we'll go somewhere you wanna spend your birthday.”

You gave her a dubious look, you had been friends with her since Grade One, and knew when she was talking out of her bleached ass.

“Pinkie swear.” She sighed, rolling her eyes and stuck her powdered-pink, French manicure pinkie finger out towards you.

Growling and rolling your eyes back, neither of you ever broke a pinkie swear. “Fine.” You groaned, hooking your plain pinkie finger with hers. “Pinkie swear, then we're going to Nathan's pub and getting shots.”

“Fine.” Baeli groaned, she hated going to Nathan's, but like how you sucked up going to the club with her, she'll suck up going to the pub with you.

“Card.” A beefy doorman growled, thrusting out his hand towards Baeli.

Baeli opened the clutch that hung from her forearm, revealing a huge wad of cash, there wasn't a bill lower than a ten amongst them. Fishing around the thick bundle of money, Baeli removed a glittering gold card, the name Crimson Moon written on it, over the image of red thumbnail moon, with her name and membership number.

“A pleasure to have you again, Ms. Evans.” The doorman said, swiping her card in a reader and handing it back to her, his almost mafia bodyguard demeanor washing away into a surprisingly polite and gentlemanly attitude.

“This is my guest.” Baeli said, smiling at you over her shoulder. “It's her birthday.” She added, with a sly smirk.

The doorman looked you over, lifting a brow at your black, knee length and sleeveless halter top dress, hugging your body just right with your black flats. You saw the corner of his lip twitch, and knew that you passed the club's strict dress code, it worked out with Baeli helping you decide what to wear on your birthday. You didn't care, if you were going to stay home and nurse a bottle of wine on your own, while watching ridiculous tv shows, you just wanted to feel gorgeous on your big day.

“Enjoy yourselves, ladies.” The doorman said, opening the blacked out door for you both, with a slight bow of his head. “Happy birthday.” He added quietly, as you walked by him and into the club.

“Thank you.” You whispered back as the door closed behind you.

Looking around, you felt the illusion of the club, it was larger on the inside than it was on the outside. The carpeting was dark red and black abstract, with spots of steel-gray. There were in-laid, circle lights in the floor, showing the way to the bar and to the seated section, right in front of the stage and a hallway off the side. The whole place was dimly lit, with the runner lights and turned down low sconces, as well as the various lights on the stage, to light the performance of the strippers.

Baeli grabbed your hand and guided you to the bar. “One rum and coke.” She told the single bartender. “And a mojito, please.”

The bartender nodded his head at her, silently, and started moving about, grabbing the two different glasses for the drinks and started building them, impressively, at the same time, using one hand for the mojito and the other for the rum and coke.

“That's pretty cool.” You commented, nodding your hand at him as he set a napkin on the bar top, then your rum and coke on it, setting it in front of you.

“Thanks.” He whispered, quietly, then moved on to another customer.

“Come.” Baeli said, taking a sip of her mojito through the teeny black straw, then turned towards the stage. “The next show is starting.” She informed you.

A smooth and deep voice came over an intercom system wired throughout the immaculate building, it smelled like sandalwood, money and unfulfilled fantasies. You followed Baeli to the front row, shocker, you thought. It wasn't that your best friend was a slut or anything, she just had a really strong fetish for men, even though, nine and a half times out of ten, they were complete losers, that treated her badly, had a criminal history or were married.

Didn't stop Baeli though.

“Welcome to the Crimson Moon, where you'll always be driven mad by our full moons.” the silky voice said, smoothly.

“Christ, that's cliché.” You snorted, sipping your drink and sitting down at the table with Baeli.

“Ssshh.” Baeli hushed you, annoyed.

“Tonight, we have just what every woman needs in her life, The Hammer.” The voice continued, dropping his tone to a low timber at the end of his sentence.

You looked over at Baeli, rolling your eyes at how stupid that sounded, a stripper named, 'the Hammer', did they have a Screwdriver and Power Saw, as well? But, Baeli was losing her mind, grinning like mad and bouncing in her seat, if her face got any redder with her excitement, you'd mistake her for a Crimson Moon.

“Oh, we're in so much luck!” She bubbled at you, with a full and toothy grin. “He is so handsome, a total hunk of man. He could fuck me through the floor and all I'd be able to do, is thank him and ask for more.”

“You say that about every man you encounter, Bae.” You replied, shaking your head at her, not at all impressed or excited, you looked forward to him doing his routine and getting out of here to get to Nathan's.

“I mean it with this one.” Baeli replied, unstoppable. “The Hammer is a total package, just you wait! By the time he finishes his routine, your panties will be soaked.” She beamed, then got a wolfish look on her face.

“That is, if you're wearing any.”

You narrowed your eyes at her in disgust. “I'm wearing underwear, you weirdo.” You huffed at her, shifting and feeling the elegant, lace panties you had on.

The lights lining the edge of the stage turned on and moved low against the stage, illuminating the floor and the simple black curtain backdrop. A low hum of music pumped through hidden speakers, you could feel the bass in your chest and the soles of your flats, it was a pleasant beat. Baeli fidgeted with excitement as the black satin curtain opened and you saw the biggest guy you had ever seen in your life. He was well over six foot, two hundred pounds of well packaged muscle, broad shoulders and chest. You were sure he was the reason the phrase, 'thick thighs save lives' was coined, they were as big around as tree trunks, held snug in the black slacks he wore. Your eyes trailed up his long legs, licking your lips as your eyes moved over his torso, he was moving slowly, rolling his hips as his big hands moved to the button of his shirt, nimble fingers gently pushing the clear button through the hole. You didn't know how the hell he managed it, but he somehow made unbuttoning a shirt sexy; you bit your lip as his chest slowly came into view as more buttons came undone.

Half of his buttons were free by the time your eye finally met his, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. 'Fuck, he's gorgeous'. His hooded Cerulean-Blue eyes met yours and a smirk tugged up the corner of his lip, a light scruff on his cheeks and sharp jawline with a well taken care of mustache. 'Damn it, Baeli.' you thought, feeling the slick warmth start to pool in your black lace panties. The smirk on his face grew, his attentive and observant eyes noticing the slight movements of your knees as you tried to ignore the tingling feeling there and the slightly embarrassed look in your eyes.

He let his now unbuttoned shirt slip off his arms, revealing thick and strong arms underneath. Your eyes flared as he smoothed his palms over his chest, the bump of his defined abs, and to the buckle of his belt.

“Oh god.” You whimpered into your drink, eyes glued to his hands as they tugged open the buckle of his belt, then slowly pulled the clearly expensive leather from the loops of his pants. “Oh Jesus.” You whined, chewing on your lip and unable to look away.

“I told you.” Baeli chuckled into your ear. “He must like you, his eyes haven't left yours, since he came on.”

“He's just doing his job.” You mumbled into your glass, your own eyes still locked on his.

His thumbs hooked into the waistband of his slacks and shoved them down, kicking them off the stage, and making some girl on the other side of the stage squeal, scrambling to grab them off the floor, but he was still focused on you, still gently moving as he stood there in a silk thong, that just barely contained his overflowing package.

“Oh good god.” You gasped, mouth falling open.

“That's right, honey!” Baeli yelled out, pulling out several large bills from the wad of cash in her clutch and stuffed them in the tip jar at the end of the stage, since you weren't allowed to touch the performers.

“I need another drink.” You squeaked, as you met his eyes again, then got up and rushed over to the bar, feeling his blue orbs follow you. “Rum and coke, extra rum.” You told the bartender as he approached you, throat tight.

When the bartender set your refilled glass down in front of you, you shamelessly chugged it down, trying to get the burning feeling your mind, and pussy, to go away with the strong and chilled beverage, but it didn't seem to work, the alcohol only heated your skin up even more. There was a room full of claps and whistles behind you, signaling the end of the man's dance, and relaxed as the sizzling feeling of his eyes on you vanished as he returned to the backstage.

“I think you might have hurt his feelings.” Baeli said, coming up behind you. “Rushing off like that.”

“I'm sure all the cash you practically threw at him will buffer that burn.” You told her, dabbing at your mouth with the napkin from under your glass. “Let's go.” You told her, setting your empty glass on the bar top, and turned towards her.

“We can't.” She frowned at you, shaking her head.

“Why the hell not?” You snapped at her, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Because, I set up a private lap dance for you.” She replied with an excited grin.

“Oh no.” You shook your head at her, licking your lip. “Absolutely not!”

“Absolutely yes.” She nodded back, getting annoyed with you. “That is an expensive dance, so you have to take it.”

“No, I don't. You do it and I'll wait in the car.”

“I can't, I'm not the birthday girl, you are.” Baeli shook her head at you and held out a key to you, dangling from a black and red moon shaped key tagged. “Off you go, or I'll drag you there by your hair.”

“Christ.” You huffed at her, snagging the key from her. “You and the hair pulling.” You chided her.

“The room number is on the tag.” She told you, grinning like she was sending you off to the wolves.

You looked down at the tag as you walked towards the hallway off the side of the stage where all of the private rooms were, and found Room Six. Biting your lip and taking a deep breath, you slotted the key into the door and stepped inside, closing it behind you. The room was decorated much like the rest of the club, but with a single comfortable chair and a closed circuit camera in one of the top corners of the room, and one other door across from you. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, you had never gotten a lap dance before, this was only your second time in a strip club, so you were uncomfortable. The door across from you opened and your heart started to beat even harder, seeing the blue eyed, mustached man from the stage step into the room with you.

“You.” He smirked at you, licking his upper lip as he closed his door.

“Yeah.” You squeaked, trembling, he was so much bigger up close.

He chuckled, seeing your nervousness and motioned to the chair. “Sit.”

Hesitating for a moment, you slipped into the chair, feeling even smaller compared to him now, melting into the chair as he stepped closer to you. He planted a hand on each of the arm rests and leaned down over you, bringing his face so close to yours, you saw the brown fleck in the upper corner of his blue eyes. He smelled so good, like dark vanilla, leather bound books and sandalwood from his beard and mustache oil; you were unconscious of slightly leaning towards him and taking in a stronger breath, wanting to be immersed in his scent. He smirked at you and leaned down closer, your nose deliciously close to the hollow of his neck and collarbone.

“I hear, it's your birthday.” He whispered softly into your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, enchanted and almost drugged by his scent and presence.

“Well, then.” He purred, his lips brushing your ear, the soft hairs of his mustache tickling the rim of your lobe. “I'll have to give you an extra bit of attention.” He cooed at you, fingertips meeting the sensitive spot behind your opposite ear and smoothed down the side of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Birthday girl.” His voice was husky, his hot breath warming your chilled skin and making you shiver.

“Sweet Jesus.” You whimpered, feeling the heat of his breath rippling through your body and to your pussy, drenching your panties even more, and you were sure, as you watched his eyes darken, that he could smell it.

“Not Jesus, birthday girl.” He chucked, moving back some, his hands moving to the collar of his shirt, he had clothed himself since his performance, you couldn't remember how long ago. “Just the Hammer.” He murmured, his voice smooth like chocolate.

“Do you usually go to strip clubs on your birthday?” He asked, undoing another button.

“No.” You whispered, out of breath and hyper-focused on his rapidly appearing chest, that your hands tingled to be able to touch. “I usually stay home or go to Nathan's pub.” You mumbled, brain going on autopilot.

“Doesn't sound very fun.” He rasped, tugging one side of his now unbuttoned shirt from where it was tucked into his ridiculously tight waistband.

“I don't like celebrating.” You goggled at his exposed torso.

“Hm.” He hummed with a sly smirk, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and pulled up your hand so you pressed your palm flat against his chest.

Despite the heat in the room,—was the room hot or was it you—his skin was cool to the touch, like he has been sitting under a pleasant air conditioner before coming into the room. You whimpered softly, pressing your hand firmer to his groomed, but hairy, chest and slid down, feeling the nub on his nipple harden under the heat of your palm, before rubbing your thumb over each bump of his six-pack. Smirking, he tugged the other side of his shirt free, gently grinding against you and tossing his shirt over the back of your chair.

“Go on.” He purred, lips brushing your warm cheek. “I know you want to touch me more than that.” He whispered into your ear, before taking it between his pearly-whites.

“Is that even allowed?” You found yourself asking, without meaning too.

“It's private, we can do damn near anything in here,” he hummed low in his throat. “As long as we're both consenting.” He added, softer, sending a shiver down your back.

Your other hand reached up and gripped that etched hip peeking out from the top of his slacks and dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss and bite your neck, all the while, pressing closer to you, one hand braced on the back of the couch and the other cupping your neck. You felt the firm and long rub of something, then noticed the very visible bulge straining his slacks, inches from you, and panicked. You planted both hands on his chest and pushed him away, jumping up from the chair, all flustered and embarrassed.

“I'm sorry.” You squeaked, making for the door.

Sighing heavily, but smiling at your shy and hasty departure, he plucked his shirt from the back of the chair and exited out of the door he came in through.

“So, how was it?” Baeli asked, sitting at the bar, while she waited for you. “It wasn't very long.”

“It was long enough.” You told her, muddled. “Can we go to Nathan's now?” You asked her, almost begging, you wanted to get out of the Crimson Moon in case, the Hammer, decided to follow after you.

Baeli rolled her eyes, but nodded her head. “All right, fine.” She sighed, slapping a fifty on the bar top and headed for the door.

Relieved, you followed Baeli back out to her car and slipped into the passenger seat, you watched the Crimson Moon sink into the distance as Baeli drove you both to the pub, twenty minutes away. With a sigh, you slipped into a booth seat at Nathan's Pub, which had been your watering hole since college, the alcohol was decent, the staff was incredible and the food was spot on, what else would you want out of an establishment?

Importantly, no hot men grinding on you and making you question your morals.

You and Baeli shared a drink and the waitress, who knew you quite well, showed up at your table with a slice of cake, a single candle burning on it, then several other staff, a couple patrons and Baeli sang you a round of happy birthday, before clapping and giving you hugs after blowing the candle out. You chuckled, digging into the overly sweet cake, sharing it with Baeli, and forgetting all about the strip club.

“All right, birthday girl.” Baeli yawned, finishing off her plain, diet coke. “I'm ready to go, how about you?” She asked, making sure she had her car keys.

“You go on home, I'm going to stay a little bit longer, I'll Uber home.” You told her, still nursing the Daiquiri you ordered.

“You sure?” She frowned, she hated to leave you alone like this on your birthday.

“I'm positive.” You nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.

“All right, I'll call you in the morning.” She nodded back, giving you a quick hug and headed out.

You finished your drink, and left a tip for the staff, since Baeli paid the bill, then headed outside to find a good spot to have an Uber pick you up and take you home.

“You know, I was quite surprised by you.” A silky voice said behind you. “I wouldn't have taken you as the rude type, not allowing me to finish my work, twice.”

You yelped in surprise and dropped your phone on the asphalt, spinning around to see the tall stripper behind you, the Hammer. “Are you following me?” You squeaked, slowly bending down to pick up your phone, never taking your eyes off of him.

“I really don't like unfinished business.” He replied, folding his arms over his chest and leaning his shoulder against the brick wall at the side of Nathan's.

“Too bad.” You replied, gulping and looking around, hoping someone would come out of the pub and into the parking lot.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He told you, lifting a brow as your uneasiness.

“Yeah, sure.” You huffed at him, trying to fake confidence. “You only follow me twenty minutes from your work and wait for me to come out, to confront me, alone, in a parking lot, in the middle of the night.

He chuckled at you. “When you put it that way.” He smirked, licking his lips in a way that had you feeling that heat again. “But, if I wanted to kidnap or harm you, you would already be in my car.” He told you, with such a steely confidence and an amused blankness to his face and eyes, you felt a chill join the growing heat of your body.

“W-what do you want?” You mumbled, biting your lip.

“To finish what I started.” He smirked at you, his eyes racking over you. “It is still your birthday, for another-” He looked at his watch. “Two hours.” He smirked and crossed his arms again. “Come on, I promised to give you extra attention, and intend too. Promise, I won't disappoint or do anything you don't want.”

You stared at this man and felt your morals slip, it was your birthday after all, why the hell shouldn't you make the most of it with a hot guy. “Where?” You asked him, taking a deep breath.

“I have a good neutral place.” He told you, pushing off the wall and motion to a stupidly nice car.

“Um,” You frowned at him, then activated the screen of your phone, texting Baeli.

» Met a guy at Nathan's, sharing my location.

» Is he cute?

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your phone into the little pocket in your dress and looked back at him, he had opened the passenger door for you, which surprised you, a guy had never done that for you before.

“Thanks.” You muttered, slipping into the seat.

“Of course.” He chuckled, then closed your door and went around to the driver's side.

“What's your name?” You asked, looking over at him.

“Why?” He frowned at the road.

“I don't want to call you 'the Hammer' for the next two hours.” You retorted, lifting a brow at him.

“Hm.” He huffed, amused. “Most people call me, Walker.” He replied.

“What do your friends call you?”

“Walker.” He answered, his tone plain and guarded.

“What did your mother call you?”

Walker looked over at you as the car rolled to a stop at a red light. “Nothing that a child should be called.” He replied, tightly.

“Walker, it is then.” You gulped, after a momentary pause.

“And yours?” Walker asked, turning a corner as the light changed back to green.

You told him your name.

“It's a lovely name.” He complimented you.

“Thanks.” You smiled, shyly brushing your hair behind your ear. “That's your neutral ground?” You asked, seeing the highest end hotel the city had come into view.

“It is.” Walker nodded with a sly smirk.

“How does a stripper afford a super expensive car and an even more expensive hotel?” You asked him, following him into the lobby.

Walker smiled at you, stopping at the reception counter. “Pent suite.” He told the clerk, holding out a gold American Express card to him.

“Of course, Mr. Walker.” the Clerk replied, setting it up.

Your mouth was hanging open as you watched him swipe the card and hand it back to Walker, surprised that the man knew his name and the price on the screen for the room. But, Walker was unphased by all of it, taking back his card and motioning you in front of him, towards the lifts.

“That's a lot of money for two hours.” You choked, stepping into the lift with him.

“Not for the Birthday girl.” Walker replied, smiling smugly at you, and hit the top floor button.

“Are you always like this, when someone doesn't let you finish?” You asked, following him down the hall at the very top floor and to a set of double doors.

“No, you're the first woman that's never let me finish a performance.” He replied, swiping the room key in the door reader and pushed it open, politely letting you enter the elegant suite first.

“First for everything, I suppose.” You answered, looking around the room, mouth hanging open.

“True.” Walker nodded, looking you over as you walked around, licking his lips, like he was thirsty and you were a refreshing drink. “Here, sit down.” He said softly, grabbing a chair and setting in the middle of the room.

Sighing, you did as he said and sat down in the chair, then watched him loosen the clearly expensive silk tie he was wearing, and stepped around behind you, pulling your arms back and using the tie to bind your wrists together. You started to panic and breathe hard, feeling the soft fabric tighten, securely.

“Calm down.” Walker purred at you, soothingly. “I can't have you running off for a third time, can I?” He asked, coming around the chair to face you. “That's just so incredibly rude.” He told you, shaking his head at you.

“Is it too tight?” He asked, watching you try and calm yourself with deep breaths.

“No.” You gasped, biting your lip.

“Good.” He nodded, with a sweet smile. “All settled?” He asked, stroking your cheek in an oddly soothing way.

“Ye-yeah.” You nodded, finally getting your heart rate under control.

“Very good.” He smiled a bit more, the back of his fingers trailing from your cheek to your neck, then down the swell of your breasts, liking the way your bra pushed them up. “Hm.” He hummed, watching the rise and fall of your chest quicken again, but for a completely different reason.

“If I do anything you don't like, or if you want to stop,” He explained, rubbing his thumb over your lips. “All I want you to say is one word.”

“What word?” You asked, pressing your thighs together to stop the slick heat from raising again, and failing.

“Cake.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling that cliché.

“Say it.” Walker pressed you, sternly.

“Cake.” You repeated the word with a gulp.

“Very good.” He smiled and gently pat you on the head with, what you supposed was his attempt at, a wink. “Now, where was I before you interrupted me?” He hummed, pressing his lips together and tapping his middle finger against his stubbly chin.

“That's right.”

Turning on his heels, August pulled his phone out of his pocket and over to a Bluetooth speaker that came with the room. Pairing the two up, he scrolled through his vast and diverse music playlists, until he found a song he wanted and pressed play, setting his phone down next to the speaker, he turned back to you. Smiling, he rested his foot on the seat of a chair that was identical to the one he had you tied to, removed the laces of his dress shoes and neatly tucked them under the foot of the huge bed in the room, then took off his socks and rolled them up, neatly stuffing them into his shoes. Satisfied with that, Walker moved closer to you, your knees brushing his shins.

“You're quite beautiful, you know that.” He complimented you, resting his hand on the back of your chair, his lips brushing your ear, cheek and then your lips.

“Thank you.” You sighed, eyes rolling shut at the soft feel of his supple lips and the intoxicating scent of his body.

“You're welcome.” He purred, before giving you a chasten kiss on the lips.

You moaned against his mouth, he tasted sweet and minty. Chuckling, Walker moved slightly away, his hands unbutton his shirt before your eyes, for the third time that night. You almost pouted at the fact your arms were tied behind you, wanting to touch his body again, and Walker saw that look in your eyes.

“Patience, love.” He cooed at you, letting his shirt slip off his arms and to the floor. “If you behave, I'll untie you, and you can touch me all you want.” He promised, cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb rubbing your lips, before pressing inside your mouth for a moment, letting you suck on the tip of his digit for a second, before pulling his hand away, teasing you.

His movements were slow, fluid and calculated. You were learning that was the kind of person Walker was, he took his time, and he managed that time well, like a General in the military would. He touched your face, arms and upper body as he moved around you, only occasionally brushing your thighs and knees, pushing up the edge of your dress with each touch, until he could just see the hint of your soaked panties. His hands left you, with a whine of protest, he chuckled and dropped his hands to his pants, he wasn't wearing a belt this go around, so popping open the button of his slacks was simple, but he made a painfully slow show out of unzipping them and pushing them down his tree trunk thighs.

You expected the thong he had been wearing for his on stage routine, but, unfortunately, he was wearing boxer briefs. But even that much material wasn't enough to hold back the creature Walker had living inside of them, he was large and incredibly hard inside of them, a small damp spot on them from where the tip of his cock rested.

“You see what you've done.” He asked you, following your eyes to the wet spot. “You've teased me twice tonight, leaving me hard as a block of marble.”

“I'm sorry.” You found yourself blurting out, without conscious thought, eyes glued to his confined dick, it had been months since you had sex, and that was underwhelming, at best.

“Not yet, you're not.” Walker laughed, slipping the tips of his fingers into his boxers and stroking his shaft, the wet spot growing. “You want me to take them off?” He asked, fisting himself, unashamed.

“Please.” You nodded, licking your lips, dying for the sight of it.

“Hm.” He hummed, squatting in front of you, hands resting on your knees. “Let's see just how much you want to see me naked, shall we?” He asked, lifting a brow at you and slipped a hand between your legs, sliding it home to palm the drenched fabric of your panties.

“Shit.” You gasped, hips shamefully rubbing against his palm, a mind of their own.

“Oh, how wet the Birthday Girl is.” He teased you, ghosting the pad of his middle finger against your clothed clit. “You must really want to see me naked.” He chuckled, licking his lips and rubbing harder.

“Oh god, Walker.” You begged him, squeezing your legs together to keep his hand against your pussy. “Please.”

“You want me this bad, and yet, you ran away, twice.” He tutted at you, pulling his hand free, and stood.

“I'm sorry.” You croaked, eyes wide and desperate. “I was just frightened and overwhelmed, I didn't expect this.” You explained, you still didn't expect it, and part of you was berating yourself for getting into this situation, but there was nothing for it now, you were hot, wet and horny, and you wanted Walker to finish his lap dance, and give you whatever else he had in mind.

Or, in his boxers, for that matter.

“I'm sure you didn't.” He answered, his voice rough and dripping with arousal.

The tempo of the song picked up and Walker started slowly dancing and moving, surprising you with how agile his tall and muscular body was, he was in such complete control of himself and every teeny little thing he did, you couldn't help the enthralled and turned on expression on your face and in your eyes. As the song and his dance came to a close, Walker knelt before you, resting his hands on your shaky knees, pushing your dress up and spread your legs wide, the cool air of the room wafted against the wet fabric, making you shiver in response. Walker smirked, petting your folds through your panties and you shivered even more, moaning.

“So impatient.” He cooed at you, slipping a finger into the side of your undies and caressing your slick and dripping folds.

“Fuck.” You moaned, bucking against his finger, choking down a gulp.

“Push on your toes and lift your hips.” Walker instructed you, removing his hand from between your legs.

You did as he told you and felt his strong fingers wrap around the waistband of your panties and slip them off of you, then carefully removed your flats, tucking them in beside his own. You gasped, feeling his warm lips on the cool skin at the inside of your thigh, the tickle of his mustache and stubble had you letting out a breathy giggle, only to melt into a deep moan, from Walker placing wet kisses, nibbles and love bites all over your thighs. You were starting to get impatient again, wanting his mouth on your pussy all ready, straining against the tie wrapped around your wrists, you were surprised by how well he bound and tied you.

“Ow!” You let out in a breathy yelp.

“Stop doing that.” He scolded you, feeling you fidget. “You'll cut off the circulation in your hands.”

“Well, if you stop fucking teasing me.” You retorted back.

“I'll tease you all I want.” Walker remarked with a sly smirk. “You're the one tied to the chair.” He reminded you, like you had forgotten.

You grinned back at him, cheeks warm and shaking your head.

Chuckling, Walker started all over again, and took even longer this time to reach your folds, leaving bite marks, hickies and beard burn behind. You opened your legs even wider, panting, as his warm breath tickled your wet folds, your head fell back as he gave your clit a sharp flick of his tongue, toes curling intp the short carpet under your feet. Walker pressed a lewd kiss to your pussy, suckling your clit with maddening expertise and leisure, his hands gripped your hips and pinned you to the chair, stopping your desperate wiggles to fuck his face. His licks grew more and more, until he was licking the full length of your pussy with his long and broad tongue, swirling it around your clit and delving into the weeping entrance of your core, collecting your juices on his tongue and swallowing with deep rumbles of satisfaction of how good you tasted.

“You definitely taste better than Birthday Cake.” He moaned, lapping at your pussy.

You laughed, nervously. “Th-thanks.” You whimpered, a complete mess under his skilled mouth.

“I'm still shocked.” He purred between licks. “You're so polite, yet, you're so willing to ditch someone just trying to do their job.” He laughed, then gave your pussy several long and firm lips, sending you skating over the edge.

“Fuck, Walker!” You cried out, twitching and straining against your bonds, leaving a sticky mess between your legs, his mouth and mustache, and all over the seat beneath you, your eyes fluttering shut.

“That is the best damn orgasm I have ever had.” You commented, after semi recovering yourself.

Walker chuckled, smugly proud of himself as he moved around you and tugged the knot of the tie free, your numb arms falling heavily to your sides, releasing the strain on your shoulders. Walker's broad hands rested on your shoulders and started massaging your tense muscles, working his thumbs up and down your neck and between your shoulder blades, kneading and making you feel even more like puddy under his attention. His hands moved away from you and you heard the rustle of clothing behind you and every hair on your body stood on end, seeing his boxers come flying over your head and land on the floor with his discard pants and shirt.

“Stand up.” He rasped directly into your ear.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you could stand up, your legs felt like weak water balloons, but you slowly rose to your feet and your chair was pulled farther back. You didn't turn around to face Walker, the last remnants of your shyness holding you back from seeing him fully naked. His hands suddenly appeared on your back again, grabbing the zipper to the back of your dress and pulling it down, then pushed the straps off your shoulders, the black material of your dress pooled at your feet, like a black hole; followed by your matching push up bra. You hugged your arms to your bare chest and gulped, Walker wrapped his arms around you and pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, hugging you back against him, allowing you to feel every square inch of his chiseled and naked body.

“You're even more beautiful naked.” He hummed against the skin of your neck and shoulder, then turned you to face him. “Don't be shy.” He chuckled, grabbing your wrists and gently pulled your arms away from your chest. “Nothing I haven't seen before.” He assured you, bending his head forward to press a kiss to each other of your breasts, reaffirming his words.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and resting his hands on your hips, Walker picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and carefully turned, pressing your back against the wall beside you. Your ass rested right on top of his rock hard cock as he braced his knees against the wall and your eyes widened, 'fuck, he's huge'. You gulped, blinking at him. Walker smirked and wiggled his brows at you, his confidence was as palpable as the rest of his body, he reached beneath you and grasped his shaft and rubbed the tip against your sticky and still wet pussy, both of you moaning in unison. Chests heaving against each other, Walker slowly guided his uncut cock inside of your core, then let your body weight sink you the rest of the way on its own, wanting you to feel that slow stretch as his thick shaft opened you even wider, every long inch being molded to your core.

“You are perfectly snug around my cock.” He purred, biting into your neck and sucking hard. “Your sweet little pussy doesn't wanna let me go, does it.” He growled against your jugular, biting you even harder, you were shocked he didn't draw blood.

“No.” You moaned, shaking your head and hugging your arms tighter around his neck; you didn't want to let him go.

Walker bucked up into you, spearing into your cervix like a hot knife and had you calling out his name, not caring how loud you were and if any of the other suites on the floor heard. His thrusts were measured and rough, pulling you down as he drove himself up, the dresser along the table next to you rattled and the objects on top of it jumped with each thrust and clattered to the floor. The whole room was filled with sounds spilling out from you and Walker, slapping skin, shaking furniture and knocking over objects.

“Yes, yes.” You panted and cried, holding onto Walker and understanding why he was called the Hammer. “Fuck, Walker. Fill me, please, for fuck sake, fill me.” You begged him, racking your nails down his shoulders and sweaty back, drawing spots of blood.

Grunting and hammering you harder, Walker obliged your request and sent both of you spiraling into a tandem orgasm and miraculously not through the wall. His flushed face and sweaty forehead fell heavily to your shoulder, his huffing breath washing over the skin of your collarbone and breast. You rested your head back against the wall, trying to catch your own breath and settling your pounding and screaming heart rate, with a throb between your legs from Walker's furious thrusting. Breath caught, Walker pulled both of you off the wall and carried you, like a limp koala, into the huge bathroom suite, setting you down on the heated toilet seat, then turned to the deep soaking tub and spinning on the hot tap.

“If this is how you treat women that run out on your performances, then I might turn into a regular dance and dash customer of yours.” You chuckled, sinking into the warm and soapy water, feeling the jets massage your exhausted and drained body.

Walker chuckled, shaking his head at you and stepped out of the bathroom, picking up his discarded clothes, carefully folding them, and cleaned up the mess on the floor. He picked your dress up off the floor and felt the pocket vibrate. Frowning, he pulled the device out and the screen lit up, showing off a text from someone called Baeli and the notification of your location share.

“Smart girl.”

He chuckled, smirking, then turned the share off, before folding your dress and set it on the dresser with your ruined panties and bra, your phone on top of them. “Are you hungry?” Walker called out to you, opening the double doors of the private balcony the room had; but you didn't answer him.

Frowning, Walker stepped back into the bathroom and chuckled, shaking his head, seeing you had dozed off, while enjoying your nice, hot bath.

You hadn't realized you fell asleep, until you woke up an hour later, under a layer of blankets. But, that wasn't what had woken you, what woke you was the low murmur of a voice that sounded very angry. Walker's voice, with someone he was clearly on the phone with.

“I don't care.” Walker hissed between clenched teeth, as he stood on the balcony. “I fucking told you, Royce. I want the rest of the Apostles on this. If any, and I mean, any, of them fuck this up for me, I will kill them.” He growled, gripping the balcony railing to try and keep his voice and temper under control.

“Do you understand? I would do it myself, if the CIA didn't have me undercover.”

It seemed like the person Walker was talking to had promised to do what he expected of them, because he visibly relaxed.

“Good. Call me in the morning and tell me how it went.” Walker sighed, running a hand through his disheveled and wind swept curls.

You closed your eyes as he hung up and leaned against the railing, not wanting him to feel your eyes on him or to know you had woken up at an apparently important section of his phone call. Your stomach was in knots, who were the Apostles? Was he really an undercover CIA? Was being a stripper part of that cover, or just a side job he got a kick out of? That must have been why he had so much money. Your brain screamed for you to jump up right there, yank on your clothing and run like hell from this apparently more dangerous man than you thought he was, but your body was still heavy as a rock from all the drinks you consumed over the night of your birthday and the mind blowing sex, so you only ended up falling back to sleep, as Walker turned around and entered the room again, unaware of your being awake or knowing what you now knew.

Waking again a few hours later, it was early morning, but still dark outside, an arm slung over your waist, hugging you against the solid, breathing wall of Walker's chest. Biting your lip, you carefully wiggled out of Walker's arms and to the edge of the bed, before you risked sitting up and stood, turning around to face him. He was relaxed and softly snoring on his side, his handsome face so soft you finally noticed the dark circles under his long lashes, the thick muscles of his arms and chest slack, he didn't seem as dangerous as you thought as you fell back to sleep after his phone call on the balcony.

Maybe, you had just dreamt it.

He gave you no indication of wanting to hurt you, and he had plenty of opportunities to do so throughout the night. Walker had done quite the opposite, he had been gentle, careful and mindful of you. He could have forced himself on you in the private room at the Crimson Moon, he could have done anything to you when he showed up at Nathan's, obviously annoyed by you running off before your lap dance was done, and he could have seriously hurt you once he got you into this hotel room, but again did nothing you didn't want and was quite sweet by drawing you a bath and putting you to bed after you fell asleep.

Sighing, you moved to the dresser, where he had folded your clothes and slipped your bra and panties on, then stepped out onto the balcony, the doors still open and letting in the cool night air. Resting your forearms against the railing and leaning forward, you looked down the dizzying thirty floors to the street below, a trickle of cars slowly thickening as people got up and started their days, rushing off to work or wherever else, which reminded you, you had to get home and get ready for your shift in four hours. Huffing, you shook your head, 'fuck that', you'd just call in sick and take the day off.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Walker's voice rasped behind you.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, finding him standing, butt naked, at the threshold of the balcony. “Just thinking that I have work in four hours, and how I want to call in sick.” You replied, looking back over the skyline.

“Perhaps you should.” He commented, stepping out onto the balcony with you, his hands resting on your hips and kneading them. “You deserve it.” He whispered, rubbing his soft cock against your ass.

“Do I?” You snorted, shaking your head and pushing back against him.

“I think so.” He rasped, touching the side of his foot to the inside of yours and pushed your leg out, until your chest was pressed to the railing and you leaned over it, slightly.

“Walker.” You gasped, eyes wide as you got even more dizzy from the height.

“Hush.” He cooed, then promptly ripped your underwear off of you.

“Walker!” You barked, surprised and annoyed, you were starting to rethink his threat level, when he filled you up with his cock again.

“I'll replace them.” Walker laughed, wrapping your hair around one hand and pulled your head back. “I can afford something better for you to wear, anyway.” He whispered into your ear, and started thrusting into you, your hips rubbing harshly against the railing, and his strong fingers rubbing your still sore clit.

Afterwards, You let Walker carry you back to bed and melted into his big arms and broad chest. “Is your cover really going to be blown, August?” You asked, coming off the high that had started the afternoon before.

“So, you were awake.” August laughed, brushing his fingers through your hair. “But, no, love. My cover is just fine, like it always is. Some of the Apostles are just being idiots, but I've put them back in their rightful places.”

“Under your size eleven boot.” You laughed, tilting your head back to look up at your beloved boyfriend.

“Exactly, sweetheart.” He chuckled back, kissing the tip and bridge of your nose. “Did you have a good birthday?” He asked, stroking the side of your face.”

“Mission: Crimson Moon, was bloody fantastic.” You assured him, kissing his stubbly jawline. “You make a damn good stripper, by the way.” You added, trailing your fingertips up and down his torso.

“It's no wonder why Sloane put you undercover there.”

You and August had met, while both of you were on separate missions, three years before, that ended up colliding together and you and August became nearly inseparable. Where one of you was, the other wasn't long off or far from. August worked as the CIA's best assassin. You worked a bit more free lance, bouncing between the CIA and MI-6, or sometimes for a private sector or person, if the money paid well enough. After your first year of dating August, when he finally trusted you without condition, he let you in on his 'John Lark' secret, how he was moonlighting as the top leader to the Apostles, the group that formed after the fall of the Syndicate, with Solomon Lane.

You were shocked at first, but the more you thought about it, the more it really made sense, August was calculated in everything he did, from work life to private life, he was distant and cold, almost cruel, if you didn't have the pleasure of being in his trusted inner circle. He had feared, an extremely rare trait in August Walker's vocabulary, that once you found out about his true dealings, you would leave him, he didn't worry about you outing him and blowing his cover, he knew you wouldn't, no matter how hurt and shocked you were, you had your own secrets and knew the value of keeping them that way.

A secret.

But, you didn't leave him, you loved him; even his faults.

You made him promise to never talk about the Apostles' business around you, unless you asked him about it, the less you knew about his works as the Head Apostle, the less of it could be pulled out of you and used to harm him, should anyone decide to use you as a pawn against August. Which, you weren't worried about either, people, from high governments to the cockroaches knew better than to fuck with you, even more so knowing that if they did do something to hurt or compromise you, August would be at their doorstep a moment later.

“Well, the job there is almost done, then only you will be getting a lifetime membership to my lap dances.” He told you with a smug grin, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him.

“I better be, August Walker.” You told him, pushing yourself up to straddle his waist, hands braced on his chest. “I'm the only one, this Hammer gets to nail.” You laughed, rubbing against his flaccid cock, waking it up for another round.

#The Crimson Moon *Fic*#The Crimson Moon #August Walker/You #August Walker #August Walker/Reader #Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #Viking-Raider Fics #Henry Cavill Requests #Mature #Rating: Mature #Not Smut #Language #Dom!August #Stripper!August #Birthday Girl #John Lark

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years

Text

let someone see right through > bucky barnes

|| pairing: Bucky Barnes x black!reader

|| rating: explicit

|| word count: 4446

|| warnings: drinking, implied mention of death, past infidelity, smut, sex, a little bit of angst, oral sex (female receiving)

|| summary: two strangers meet in a bar on their birthday.

|| challenge: @sherrybaby14 prompt challenge - The reader and bucky share a birthday and have some intense birthday sex.

|| challenge: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan star’s follower challenge - Cafune: the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

|| square filled: @buckybarnesbingo B1: Kink- One Night Stand

|| link: ao3

|| note: i did not realize that when i signed up for sherry’s challenge that it would fit some many other things I’m working on, lol. This was inspired by so many things... seb’s endings, beginnings movie, billie eilish’s listen before i go and i love you (stole a line for the title), the prompt itself... so many emotions, lol. hope you guys enjoy.

You move into the packed bar from the street, instantly having to curve your body to slide through a dense group of people. You steadily pick your way to the bar and by the grace of God, find an empty seat next to a well dressed stranger. You smile absentmindedly at him as you plop down, turning your phone over on the bar to block the barrage of incoming text messages and wiggle your fingers towards the bartender.

“Hi darlin’” the man smiles, winking at you, “What can I get ya?”

“Umm, a martini? Dry.”

He nods his head towards you, “You look young.” He smiles again, holding out his fingers.

You roll your eyes as a playful smile curls onto your lips and dig through your clutch, whipping out your ID, “Not that young, I’m sorry to say.”

He glances down at it before handing it back, “Happy birthday. This one’s on the house.”

You smile genuinely, accepting your ID back, “Thank you. That’s sweet.”

You let out a breath as you tuck your ID back in your purse, “I’m sorry,” you hear a voice say, making you snap your head towards it, “I don’t mean to get in your business, but, today’s your birthday?”

The man beside you smiles softly at you as he spins the tall glass of golden liquid between his hands. You can’t help but smile back. He’s handsome. His jaw is strong and covered in a light stubble, his eyes are big and blue; deep set. His hair is short and messy. It looks soft and you’ll be goddamned if you’re not a sucker for a soft haired man. What’s the word again? Fuck, you can practically hear it rolling off of Antonia’s tongue…

You shake your head quickly and cover the side of your face with your hand when you realize you’ve drifted off. You laugh at yourself and nod, “Yes, sorry. Yes, it is my birthday today. Sorry I - it’s been a long day.”

“That’s okay,” he answers, the smile still occupying his face, “It’s my birthday too.”

“No shit?” Your eyes light up as the smile widens on your face.

“No shit. Thirty eight.” He nods slowly, dropping his eyes back to the glass in front of him.

“No shit!” You exclaim, turning your attention back to the bartender for a brief moment as he slides your martini in front of you, “Me too. I’m thirty eight today too. How funny.”

He turns back to you, a lopsided smirk on his face before he takes a sip of his beer, “You don’t look thirty eight.”

“Do you honestly think I’d admit to being thirty eight if I wasn’t telling God's honest truth?” You laugh, “You don’t look thirty eight either, to be perfectly honest.”

He shrugs as he chuckles and finishes off his beer before waving for another, “Women lie about their age all the time.”

“Yeah,” you agree, sipping your drink, “They do, but just a little tip for you here, they usually age down, not up.”

“Not necessarily,” he says, wagging his finger, “I’ve run into quite a few eighteen year olds that are suddenly twenty seven.”

You close your eyes and scrunch your face as vivid memories of your eighteen year old self rocket to the forefront of your mind, “Not gonna lie,” you laugh, “I used to do that.”

“See!” The friendly stranger smiles, pointing at you quickly before he dissolves into laughter again, “I believe you though, just this one time, I’ll, I’ll believe you.”

“Well, thank you.” You laugh, playing along with his sarcasm. You lift your glass towards him, “Cheers to that, huh? Two thirty somethings believing one another.”

The two of you clink your glasses together and each take a sip, your eyes lingering on one another. You shy away, dropping your head and tucking some of your loose curls behind your ear. You cover your smile with your palm as you rest your elbow against the bar and blink back at him, quite enjoying the fact that you have his attention. His smile grows at you, his eyes move around your face and down your down neck before he breaks the contact to take another taste of his beer.

Your phone vibrates loudly against the old bar again, causing you to groan loudly. You pick it, your friend Antonia’s face lighting up the screen.

“Antonia, please.” You say instantly as her thick Brazilian accent pours into your ear, “I’m fine. Yes! I’m fine… because I wanna be alone, okay?... okay, yes, fine… okay, I’ll call you in the morning… I promise!... Yes!... I’m hanging up now… Antonia, Antonia, I’m hanging up.”

You tap the little red button to end the call and roll your eyes, but still laugh a little, “God, she's the worst sometimes!”

“Worried about you?”

“Yes,” you groan, “Like I’m five years old or some shit.”

He chuckles, still spinning his glass slowly, “May I ask why you’re alone on your birthday?” He asks after a few moments of silence, his voice and tone low and serious.

“Mmm,” you hum, “By choice really. I just… I don’t know, I just wanted to be by myself today. Enjoy my own company for once, you know?”

He nods slowly, “I hear that.”

You watch him as he fumbles with his glass and picks at the small, white napkin underneath it. Your eyes fall to the leather jacket that covers a black polka dotted button up and then drift back to his profile, “And you?” You ask, “Why are you alone today?”

He pushes his balled fist into his cheek and rests his head against it as he gazes back at you. His eyes search yours, as if he’s wondering if he should really tell you or not. A sadness washes through them and you sit up a little, your lips parting as you inhale, “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” he smiles, his eyes drifting from you, “My twin sister, Rebecca, she um…”

His voice trails off and you grab for his hand, holding it tight as you fight back the sudden emotion in your throat. You shake your head quickly, trying to push the wetness that has invaded your eyes away and let out a breath. You don’t even need to hear the rest to know it’s tragic, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Your voice is warm and soft, so soft that you’re not even sure that he heard you over all of the noise. You watch as his eyes fall to your hands, as your thumb slowly strokes the back of his hand, wanting to comfort him. He squeezes back.

“I just like being alone today.” He whispers as he swallows hard.

“I hear that.”

Your eyes drop to your hands. You watch as he lifts them, the pads of his fingers sliding along yours. He flattens his palm against yours and presses your fingers together, smiling a little as his large hand nearly swallows yours. On any other occasion, this connection would be weird; but for some reason, you’re bonding with this stranger that shares your day - and fast. His sadness matches your own. It’s a connection that you haven’t felt or wanted to feel in a really, really long time.

“I lied,” you say softly, watching as he links your fingers together, “I found out my boyfriend was cheating on me with my best friend last year on my birthday. I walked in on them.” You curl your fingers around his and press your thumb into his palm, “She texted me today, wishing me a happy birthday,” you laugh, “Isn’t that fucked up?”

He nods slowly, “That’s really fucked up.”

“She wanted to get together so we could talk and I just, I panicked. I didn’t want her showing up at my apartment so I just grabbed my jacket and walked here.”

He stares at you intently, his blue eyes piercing into you as you pour your heart out to him, “I’m sorry.”

You shrug and let out a breath through your nose, “It happens, right?”

“It shouldn’t,” he says softly, “Not to people like you.”

You blink back at him as his words swirl around you. He lets his eyes roam over your face as you stare back at him. That lopsided grin appears on his face again and he releases your hand, only to press his index finger into the tip of your nose, “This is a cute nose.”

You scoff but let the giggles pour from your chest. You down the rest of your martini and ask for another, before rubbing your face with your hands, “What are the odds that two sad ass people would meet up at the same bar on their birthdays?”

“Divine intervention maybe.”

You laugh gently as your second martini is placed in front of you. You don’t pick it up, you just look at it for a second before turning your head back to this gentle man. You find him looking at you - licking his lips slowly, and just looking at you. Your heart starts to beat a little harder; a little faster. Your breath stays easy and gentle but your mind starts to race with thoughts that haven’t crossed it in a long while.

You reach for your glass and sip it slowly, flicking your eyes up at him over the round rim. You set it down, a soft clink sounding at the delicate glass collides with the wood of the bar. You rest your head against your palm as you lean against the bar, a smile of your own spreading on your lips as you gape at the soft haired, sad thirty eight year old next to you. You grab his hand again and twist your fingers within his, feeling the warmth of his skin against your own.

He presses his thumb into your palm and rubs it gently, bringing your hand to his face. He puts his lips against the backs of your fingers and closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You lift your free hand and push it to his cheek, rubbing softly, letting the prickle of his short beard tickle your skin. He nuzzles into you and you’ve never wanted to take someone’s sadness away so bad.

You tilt your head as you sweep your fingers over his chin, stroking gently as he relaxes into the touch of a pure stranger. It starts to click for you, right in that moment, as the two of you bond over the soft touches from one human to another. You never understood how this could happen, how you could meet someone in a bar and want to take them home. To want to ravish them and have them ravish you without knowing a damn thing other than the connection that the two of you built in an instant.

You’re the type to see forever in someone’s eyes - but that’s where you fucked up, isn’t it? Maybe it’s better to see just tonight in someone’s gaze.

“Two sad strangers.” You say softly.

He nods slowly again, “Maybe we were meant to save each other tonight.”

You take a breath, and then another, and another as you tilt your head in the opposite direction, staring at him all the while, “I’m starting to think that too.”

He tilts his head too, to match yours, and licks his lips again before sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, “You like being in love.”

You blink at him and swallow. He doesn’t form it as a question. He states it, like he knows it. Like he can smell it on you that you aren’t that girl - but that you desperately want to be for him. You need to move on - and he knows it.

“I can love you for tonight if you want me too.” He answers himself, his voice gentle and low.

You nod before you can really think about it. You stand and grab your phone and clutch from the bar, digging through the small gold purse to throw some cash down. You take one last taste of your drink before you grab his hand again, barely giving him time to pay for his own drinks.

You push out into the New York night, a brisk, sharp, cold breeze smacking against your body. He throws his arm over your shoulders and pulls you into his body, trying to shield you from the assault. He lets you guide him a few blocks towards your apartment in silence, shoving his hands in his pockets when you come to your building. You hold the door for him and head for the old elevator, waiting as he steps in before you shut the thin, metal scissor gate.

You push the lever to the number of your floor and with a jolt, the two of you are hoisted up into the building. You stand on one side, he stands on the other, hands shoved in his pockets as he leans against the opposite wall - his eyes on you all the while. You swallow hard as you place your hand to your chest, suddenly flush with heat under his intense gaze.

He pushes away from the wall as the slow elevator climbs higher into the building. Your breath becomes audible as he moves into your space. He slides his palm along your cheek, slipping the tips of his fingers into the edges of your hair as his thumb sweeps along your bottom lip and chin. Your lips part as your eyes bounce between his. He flattens his thumb on your cheek again and pulls you into him, crashing his lips to yours with force.

You moan when his tongue slips along the roof of your mouth. He pulls away just long enough to tilt his head before he dives back into you, bringing his other hand to your face to hold you. He pins you against the wall and pushes his knee between the two of yours as he kisses you hard and deep. He pulls away again, but stays away - his mouth hanging open, his breath rough, his cheeks red.

You stare back at him as his fingers curl around the back of your neck. Your chest heaves as you bite your bottom lip, quick flashes of what was before playing before your eyes. Your boyfriend, the feeling of his hands on your body, his lips on yours - reminding you of him. His laughter rings in your ears, his eyes stare back into yours…

“Are you okay?”

The words bring you back into the present, back into the elevator. Your ex is gone and you blink back at the man before you. His eyes are wide and wild as his thumbs stroke your cheeks, “Are you okay?” He asks again.

You nod quickly and lean into him, wanting him to help make you forget. You push your mouth against his, moaning again as the old memories fade and the sounds of your mouths bounce off of the walls of the old, rickety elevator. It comes to halt seconds later but neither one of you seem to notice. You push your chest into his as you press your fingers into his lower back, pulling him into you harder, harder, harder.

His thigh is back between your legs as he nips at your jaw with his teeth, before pushing your head towards the ceiling with his fingers. You squeeze his leather jacket in your hands as you push your hips forward, rubbing your hot sex along his thigh as he nibbles and pecks at your exposed neck. You hiss loudly and let out a groan when he bites down into your flesh softly.

“God-” you breathe as he pulls your lower half into his.

His hands drift up your sides to find your breasts. He kneads them gently, slowly, as he pushes you harder into the wall, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before it invades your wet mouth again. His lips move down your neck, along your collarbone, before they press into your cleavage through your shirt. He slides down to his knees, his lips trailing your body, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he goes.

He releases your hips to skim your bare legs with his fingertips, his light touch tickling your deprived skin as they skip along your limbs. He presses a hot kiss to the inside of your knee as you grip his shoulder and push forced, focused breaths out of your mouth. Within the blink of an eye, his face has disappeared underneath your skirt, his lips and nose pressing hard against the bundle of nerves at your center.

You buck into his face as you hiss, biting down into your bottom lip. He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit, stroking it lightly through your underwear before he nuzzles face first into your heat. He takes a breath, a deep breath, and you shudder at the thought of him wanting your scent to fill him - to intoxicate him.

You continue to push your hips into his face as his tongue pushes underneath your panties. Your body jerks at the sudden warmth and wetness his tongue provides - the soft friction - as he laps at your slit. You slam your back against the wall and let out a moan as the synapses in your body all start to fire, focusing your energy, electrifying your mind.

The elevator starts to drop suddenly, and you slam your hand against the emergency stop button, halting it before it descends.

“Fuck,” you breathe heavily, “Sorry,” you call loudly to whoever called for the metal box, “Sorry, we’re- sorry.”

You continue to mumble as you push on his shoulders, encouraging him to stand and move to the gate. You push it open and move off of it, your suitor close behind. You feel his chest against your back as you fumble with your keys, nearly dropping them when his fingers curve around your hip. You slam your key into the lock and twist it as he tightens his grip, digging the tips of his fingers into your skin. The door pops open and with a push of his hand, it swings and crashes into the wall with a loud thud before it starts to swing back closed.

He pushes you forward, keeping his hand around your waist as the two of you cross through the threshold. He shuts the door with his foot and spins you around before wrapping his arms around your waist again. You drop your keys, your purse, your phone to the floor as you throw your arms around his neck and allow him to pick you right off of your feet. You press your hands into the side of his face as you kiss him again, smacking your lips against his as you steal his breath.

He holds you up with his sheer strength, your boot clad feet dangling before you wrap them around his waist. Your hands push into his jacket, stripping it from him, pushing it right off of his shoulders. You start pulling at his shirt, untucking it from his tight, black jeans before your fingers begin to pry at the buttons. Within seconds, his shirt is crumpled on this floor with his jacket, his bare, sculpted chest pressed against yours as he lays you down on the floor.

He leans over you, holding himself up with one hand as the other pulls at your white top. He pulls it over your head, tossing it somewhere behind the two of you before he rucks your loose skirt up your waist. His fingernails scrape at your hips and thighs as he pulls your thong down your legs. You fumble with the button and zipper of his jeans, yanking it down before you push your hands underneath the denim, gripping his ass in your hands.

He works the thick material down to his thighs before he falls on top of you, crushing his body to yours, pinning you to the floor. He encases your head in his hands as you pull his face back down to yours and kiss him again as he slams into you. You inhale deeply and slam your eyes shut as he fucks into you again, your body sliding up the wood floor. He flattens his mouth to yours and you take the opportunity to bite his bottom lip as his nose presses against yours - his hips grinding and pushing into yours.

You reach down and palm his ass, pushing your fingers into his warm, thick flesh as he fucks you on the floor in the hallway of your apartment. Your free hand moves into his hair, grabbing a fist full before you pull on it, his hot breath washing over your face. It is soft - his hair - just like you thought it’d be.

Cafuné - it comes to you suddenly; the word you couldn’t think of earlier. It echoes in your mind as your fingertips scratch at his scalp before you pull on his hair again. You can hear Antonia’s voice as she rambled on in her thick Spanish accent. I just love to… mmm, cafuné… how do you say in ingles? Fingers in the hair, eh? There is nothing better than that.

You know what it means now. There really is nothing better than the feeling of his hair between your fingers; ethereal in this moment. You keep your hands in his hair and on his ass as he pushes his hips into yours, your muscles spreading for him. You’re nose to nose, mouth to mouth as you both grunt and groan into each other, swallowing each other's sounds as you breathe one another in. You stare into his eyes, his busy, big, blue eyes and he smiles back at you, and even laughs as he fucks into you. You laugh too - the joy, the freedom, spilling right out of you.

He slides in and out of your wet muscles with ease as your hands grip his sides. Your fingers explore him as he ruts into you - up his back, into his hair, around his shoulders, along his biceps - then back to his ass. God, what an ass. You bite his chin as his hips get quicker, more frantic as the pressure begins to build between the two of you.

Your legs start to shake, your toes curling as you quiver around his length. He works your breasts free of your thin bra and sucks one into his mouth, his tongue circling and flicking your nipple. You dig your nails into his skin as he pushes into you, his cock tickling the deepest part of you. He tugs at your nipple with his teeth before he sucks on it again - groaning into your skin all the while.

You come hard. Your hips jerk up into his as they continue to pump into you. You bite down onto his shoulder, muffling the screams and squeals as your orgasm rips through your body. He grinds into you with all of his strength until he’s spilling into you, hot ribbons of his seed coating your walls as he spurts.

You both drag in ragged breaths as you start to come down from the high you’ve made. He keeps his arms around you, encasing you, as he stares down at you. His mouth hangs, his eyes wander your face like he’s trying to etch it into his memory. He leans down and places his lips to yours in a chaste kiss; a soft kiss. Then he’s separated from you again, his eyes staring down into yours again.

Minutes have passed, maybe an hour - neither one of you are really sure. He’s slid off of you and lays on his side, his palm flat on the side of your face. Your leg is thrown over his hip, an arm strewn underneath his head as you stroke his long forearm. His black jeans are still pushed down over his ass as he buries his free hand into your hair. He brushes random strands of hair out of your face as he blinks at you, his eyes heavy as his thumb strokes your eyebrow.

You lay there, just like that, all night. You both eventually drift off to sleep, corralled within each other's arms as the night turns into day. You breathe in deeply as you roll over onto your side, the sun breaking into your sleep state. You crack your eyes and find him there, his eyes already open, already on you. He smiles, and you do too.

The two of you dress in silence. You offer him your bathroom as you wrap yourself in your silk robe. All the feelings that you thought you’d have after a night like that aren’t present, not even in the slightest. There’s no shame, no awkwardness - your mind and body, your spirit is free. Light.

You follow him out to the elevator, your hands laced together during the short walk. He pulls the scissor gate and steps inside, letting you close it behind him. He leans forward and so do you, smiling and giggling softly as you kiss through the gate.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

You smooth your hair away and laugh, “Nice to meet you.”

“Happy birthday, stranger.” He says, pushing the lever to the ground floor.

“Happy birthday, stranger.” You whisper back, wiggling your fingers slowly as he’s pulled down the building, out of sight.

----------

You move into the bar, pushing your way through the crowd as you fight to the bar. You’re not sure it always seems to be so busy on this particular day.

“What can I get for you sweetie?” The bartender asks as soon as you approach.

“A martini please, dry.” You answer, a wide smile on your face.

“Can I get your ID really fast?”

“Of course,” you nod, digging through your purse, “It’s my birthday today.”

“Oh yeah?” He smiles back at you, glancing down at the thin plastic card.

“Yeah,” a voice sounds behind you. You don’t even have to turn around, you just smile back at the bartender as your heart flutters and the memories of the year before flood your mind, “She’s thirty nine today. Can I get a beer please?”

“ID, sir?”

You shake your head, “No need,” you say, pointing towards Bucky as he wiggles up beside you, his hand slipping around your hips, “It’s his birthday too.”

He leans against the old bar, a smile on his face as his eyes link with yours. You’ve missed that grin of his, “Hello stranger.”

#prompt challenge #star's celebration challenge #buckybarnesbingo2020 #bbb2020 #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #you x bucky barnes #you x bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #avintagekiss24

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anobscurename · 4 years

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART XIII — masterlist

concept: a celebratory trip to the hamptons results in an altercation the first night you're there. the slowest of slow burns. part fourteen of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader // chris evans x respect women juice

word count: 2,8k

warnings: tw:sexual harrassment (drunken creeps are creepy), homophobic slurs (they're also assholes), angst

author's note: this one goes out to @fangirlovestuff as promised :) the next part will be coming shortly! we on some double upload weirdness, to make up for my disappearance basically the whole of yesterday

"Um, no... Really, I couldn't."

Lily pouted. Even when she pouted, she was beautiful. "Why not?"

"I don't want to intrude, really, you guys go and have fun. It's the Hamptons after all."

"But everyone's coming! Please?"

"I don't know..."

"For Chris? Would you do it for Chris?"

You cast a tentative glance to the man in question, currently in the midst of a tug-of-war with Dodger, barely paying your conversation any attention. If only they knew you'd do anything for Chris. "He is the worst bargaining chip you could've ever even thought of using."

"How about for me?" She jokingly batted her long, long lashes, an enchanting smile gracing her lips. "I won't take no for an answer, and Sebastian will be there."

"Sebastian?" You rolled your eyes at the suggestive arch of her brows. They were under the impression you and Sebastian were involved, somehow. You picked subconsciously at the scars on the palm of your hand, entirely healed and almost faded into nothing now.

"It would mean so much to us. You're such a big part of Chris' life, one of his best friends, and–"

"Alright!" You snapped. Quickly masking your irritation with a laugh, you repeated yourself, softer this time. "Alright, I'll come."

She clapped happily, giving no indication of having been taken aback or even mildly offended at you having practically yelled at her. Guilt pitted yourself in your stomach. You wanted to dislike her, but not only was she exceptionally beautiful, she was also incredibly nice. Beyond nice. Serial killers weren't even that nice. And it wasn't her fault that she was basically Jesus trapped in the body of a supermodel, and it wasn't her fault for Chris loving her – because honestly, it wasn't hard loving her – it was just that it was so fucking difficult at times when people kept calling you his friend. Chris' friend.

It would be so much easier to hate someone deserving of it, but you just couldn't. Because both of them were so beautiful and... nice.

Perfectly matched in every way you and Chris were not.

So you decided to go to the Hamptons beach house because why not?

What's the worse that could happen?

———————

This was the worse that could happen.

You had arrived at beach house Anthony had rented a little later that day, when the sun was making it's slow decent to kiss the horizon.

And the frenzy to all get ready to go out was nothing short of chaotic.

You were tired from the plane, and irritated from having been sat – with little to no form of escape – in the same row as Chris and Lily. It wasn't necessarily a long flight, but a second felt like hours when you put yourself through that kind of agony.

But you'd made up your mind after the gala to get over this little crush on Chris. Nothing good was going to come of it, and you tried to spare yourself further heartache and broken glass.

Easier said than done.

Anthony and Sebastian did not mirror your mood. On the contrary, they were still riding the high of finally wrapping the filming on Falcon and The Winter Soldier, and this was their celebration weekend. And they were going all out for it.

The house was lavish, no expense spared. And when you'd arrived, Anthony had opened his suitcase right in the kitchen, and began stocking the fridge with the champagne he'd packed in there, cushioned by his clothes.

You had briefly wondered why he had brought such a large suitcase for such a short trip, but as you watched the fifth bottle disappear into the icebox, your questions were answered.

"Why the long face?"

Anthony didn't even have to look at you to know you were standing there, bags having been dropped off in your room before joining him.

"Do I really have to come out tonight?" You whined. You hated how bratty you sounded, but you would much rather stay in the house alone for the night than go out with Chrily. You knew Sebastian and Anthony would be there too – Scarlett was also supposed to come, but she had other duties to attend to, being a mother – but you knew no matter how great they were at making you feel better, you would spend most of the night moody and brooding. And you didn't want to ruin their night with your personal issues.

You were being selfless for selfish reasons.

"Is that even a question?" Anthony was mid-stock with the final bottle of champagne when he looked at you. The inside of the fridge looked like a Moët & Chandon ad, with Anthony Mackie as the ambassador. "You're coming out if it kills me."

"But why?" You groaned.

"Because everything is more fun with you there, and besides... It wouldn't feel like a celebration without our best girl."

"Fine. I'll come," you rolled your eyes, turning to head out. "Need to shower first."

And then you heard the champagne bottle shake, the cork popping and suddenly, you were drenched in a spray of Moët. Over the sound of frothing bubbles, Anthony called out to you. "No need!"

And that was why – despite scrubbing your skin almost raw and lathering your hair to the point of chemical burn – you sat there, on the barstool, smelling faintly like expensive alcohol.

"I hate you," you muttered under your breath to Anthony as you and him had taken it upon yourselves to get the next round of drinks for the table.

He chuckled, struggling to grab a bartender's attention. "No, you don't."

"You're right, I don't. I'll always love you. But that doesn't mean I have to like you right now."

"Love me, huh?" Anthony arched a brow. "Now, was that so hard to say?"

"What?"

"It's not me you should be saying that to. You know that."

You knew what he meant, and a heavy sigh vacated your lungs. "You know it's not the same. You're family. With him... It's different."

"I think this is the first time you've ever admitted it out loud."

And it dawned on you that he was right. You had never let yourself properly admit it, even inwardly. The words had maybe flowed from the tip of your pen onto the pale pages of your journal – the only catharsis you found lately – but you never read those entries back, abandoning them to be lost in a sea of random thoughts, forgotten.

It didn't give you a sense of relief, saying the words. Not even slightly. If anything, they filled you up with dread.

"Don't," you rolled your eyes. "I'm over it. Or at least I'm getting there."

"Hey," he shrugged in placation. "Relax. It's not my confession to make."

Being an ex-cocktail waitress had its perks as you made your way back to the table, slipping easily past people with the tray of shots you had retrieved. You were speedy and efficient, even in your heels.

Anthony, on the other hand...

Beer bottles slotted between each finger, he was having much more difficulty getting by. And once you'd set the shots down at the table, not a drop spilled, Anthony's shirt was spattered with beer, hands slick with it.

As you plopped into the seat beside Sebastian, making him shift over in the booth to make more room for Anthony, he gave you a strained smile.

"I don't know how the fuck you put up with them," Seb whispered to you. "They're so lovey-dovey, it's unbearable."

"Just grin and bear it," you whispered back.

"What are you two giggling about over there?" Chris grinned from across the booth. It wasn't a very convincing grin, but you didn't dwell on it. No more allowing Christopher Robert Evans to occupy your mind.

"Just how Mackie would make a terrible waiter," you shrugged, sending the man in question a quick cheeky smirk.

"Oh, haha, very funny," he flicked some beer at you from his soaked fingertips. "I'd make a fabulous waitress and you know that."

You shied away from the alcohol droplets, laughing. "No! Not again!"

Chris took in his appearance. "Jesus, Ant. Is there even any beer left for us? Or are you wearing it all?"

"Wow, you're all hilarious," he rolled his eyes, finally dropping into the booth. "I didn't know I was out with a bunch of comedians tonight. Did I walk onto a sitcom set? Is this a sketch? Whose turn is it next? Seb? Lily?"

You all took turns making jokes and taking jibes at Anthony's lacklustre bottle service, which was only put to rest once the Falcon actor huffed and proclaimed that "you could all go get your own damned drinks."

As the night wore on, you found yourself gravitating towards the dancefloor. Honestly, you just couldn't be in the booth anymore. You knew getting over him was going to be a slow process, but some part of you had hoped that it would be an immediate and simple thing: just falling out of your pathetic little crush.

But it really wasn't, and so you were on the dancefloor. Regrettably alone. Chris and Lily were still in the booth, and the other couple – Anthony and Seb – were absolutely enthralled by a vintage pinball machine lurking in the back of the bar.

Every now and then, you would hear one whoop for joy as they beat the other's high score, only for the competitive nature of their activity to take over for another redemption round.

As you lost yourself in the music, it wasn't long before you attracted the attention of a drunken creep. You didn't use that term lightly, but this one was truly deserving.

You had felt eyes on you, and immediately found who they belonged to. Just to be polite, you had smiled at him, before continuing your dancing.

And then, taking it as an invitation, he sidled up to you, and clammy hands slithered over your waist, pulling your back to him with a strong, commanding grip. Your stomach lurched, uncomfortable with the fast rising intensity of the situation.

"You look so fuckin' good tonight, baby," he slurred into your ear, swaying on his feet. Alcohol was thick on his breath, and it filled your head with nausea. "Just wanna take you home and fuck you better than anyone ever has..."

You turned around to tell him to fuck off, and that was when that strong slithering grip was in your hair, tugging you to slimy liquored lips in a teeth clashing kiss. Your stomach roiled at the taste, and while he was distracted, you shoved him away from you with as much strength as he could muster.

He stumbled back a few steps, but he had returned to his senses long enough to right himself and soon he was stalking towards you again.

You knew his type. If his clothes and accessories were any indication, he was an arrogant rich kid – the tan telling you he was a Hamptons regular. He was your age, and every bit as entitled as his wealth would suggest.

"Get away from me." It wasn't a request, it was a command.

And he didn't like it. His hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging you to him. You struggled against him, desperately clawing for your freedom. Panic was slowly rising.

"You little bitch," he spat.

"Is there a problem here?"

It was Chris. He had seen the unravelling altercation from the booth, and had promptly come to your aid.

You wondered how long he'd been there for, what he'd overheard. His next words gave you your answer.

"I think the lady said to leave her alone."

The guy didn't even look at him, instead keeping his slabbering gaze on you. "Stay out of this."

Chris wasn't having it. Having eyed up the situation – that whiteknuckled grip on you – Chris clapped a strong – if not a little threatening – hand on the stranger's shoulder. He ripped the guy off of you, and with his other hand, he pulled you behind him protectively.

Your relief, however, was shortlived at the bite of Chris' next suggestion. "Look, buddy, maybe you should take a hint."

"Don't touch me, faggot," he slapped Chris' arm away. "I took the hint. She looked at me, she smiled at me. Look at what she's wearing! She's practically begging to be fucked."

That was the last straw for Chris.

Not only had he made the unforgivable transgression of groping you – and not just you, specifically, but any woman – but this man had crossed the line with the homophobic slur. To do that in front of Chris, being who he was, was tantamount to a death sentence.

And you could feel it as he seethed, fury boiling in his blood.

"You're lookin' at me, now. I'm smilin'." And he was, but it wasn't one you'd ever seen before. It was tight, and it was malicious. "Oh, look at what you're wearin'. Gets me a bit hard, if I'm being honest. Do you like that? Do you like me telling you how hard I'm gonna fuck you with this big cock? No? Then keep your fuckin' hands to yourself and well away from her before I break them."

You knew Chris well enough to know the threat was empty. He was a pacifist – regularly attending lessons in Buddhist teachings when he could. But the other guy didn't know that, and the throb of the muscle in the grit of Chris' jaw was very convincing. So convincing, in fact, you were even a little scared of him in that moment.

The guy tilted his head to address you, trying to make himself seem bigger. "Who even is this joker, your boyfriend?"

"Don't speak to her," Chris snarled. "You're speaking to me now. And as a matter of fact, I am. So fuck off."

What the guy did next shouldn't have been surprising. He was clearly not thinking straight. And if he hadn't done it, Chris effectively calling you his girlfriend might've had more of an impact.

But he took a swing at Chris – and although Chris never started fights, he sure as fuck ended them.

Easily blocking the attack, and in three quick movements, Chris had the other guy's arms locked behind his back. You knew, if he wanted, Chris could pop both of this guy's arms out of their sockets. And if Chris was anyone else, he might have. He was angry enough to do it.

"Let it go," came his scathing whisper.

Of course the other guy struggled. He struggled and yelled out curses, slurs, anything his alcohol addled mind could come up with.

It was enough to draw the attention of the owner of the establishment.

"Oi," she yelled. A severe no-shit type woman had come out of the back room to brace her arms against the bar, fixing you all with a withering look. "The three of you. Out."

The commotion had also been enough to draw the attention of the others, and you were on your way out – still protectively clutched to Chris' side by his musclebound arm – when they'd made it to you.

"What happened?" Seb panted.

"Just some asshole picking a fight," Chris explained, rage still colouring his voice. "Could you guys do me a favour?"

"Sure, man," Anthony said. "Whatever you need."

"I'm going to take {your name} back. Could you tell Lily when she gets out of the bathroom that we got kicked out and I'll be waiting for her at home?"

"If you just wait for her, we can all go home together," Seb suggested, already backing up a little to get his jacket from the booth.

Chris shook his head. "I need time to cool off. I don't want her seeing me like this."

"I'm really sorry for ruining your night, guys," you said, your voice small.

They were quick to assure you you hadn't. It didn't lessen the guilt, though.

"You guys enjoy," Chris said as you both hovered by the door. "We'll make up for tonight at the beach tomorrow."

———————

"I can fight my own battles."

It was the first words either of you had spoken since you'd gotten back to the house. The drive was done in deafening silence, and you felt compelled to finally break it.

"I know you can," Chris sighed. He hadn't been expecting a thanks, but he'd at least been expecting something more than that admonishment. "Better than anyone. But you shouldn't have to."

"I had it handled."

"My point is, you shouldn't have to handle this shit. No one should."

He had come with you all the way to your bedroom door, and you both stood, divided by the frame.

His brow was furrowed, thinking. And then: "Are you angry with me?"

"No," you smiled sadly.

The double meaning laced with your next words would serve to haunt both of you the remainder of the night.

"I just want you to know that you don't have to fight for me. I'm fine on my own."

#dina writes #chris evans/you #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x you #chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans angst #ocean eyes #anthony mackie #sebastian stan

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sinner-as-saint · 5 years

Text

Bad Reputation.

Mob! Seb x reader AU.

A/N: I was initially gonna do some cheesy ass, so-fluffy-you-could-die imagine. But then I was like, I have my thirsty, horny children waiting on me. So, here you go.

Run-through: You work as a bartender at one of the many bars owned by the biggest, most respected mob in the city; Sebastian Stan. And one night, things get…interesting.

Themes: Smut, mob! Seb, language, age gap

A/N (ii): I don’t know what time it is when you’re reading this, but Happy Birthday to our baby boy/ Romanian God Sebbie!!

You placed the cloth down, next to the beer glasses and sighed. The day had been tiring; consisting of countless clients, a few drunken fights which the security guards handled with ease, a few older men flirting with you.

And to top it all off, your boss; the owner of the bar you worked at, was pissed off when he came in and disappeared behind the door which led to the private/VIP area.

Why was he mad? You couldn’t quite tell. Then again, he was a mobster and his entire day revolved around barking orders at people and having to deal with the stupidity of those working with him. So, that probably explains the bad temper.

You never interacted much with Sebastian, he was rather quiet whenever he stopped by the counter for a pint of beer or on some more tough days; shots, before he went home.

He had everything; money, power, control over people, and he had earned enough respect in the city. Yet, it seemed as though he was lonely deep down.

Clearing your head of the thoughts of your boss, you glanced around one last time to make sure that everything was perfectly in place as you closed.

And you were about to pick your bag up and make your way out of the door, but a voice stopped you.

“Mind staying for a while longer, Y/N? I’m in terrible need of a drink,” your boss spoke up, stepping out of the VIP section.

He had a faint smirk on his face, and a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You smiled, nodded and got back to the other side of the counter; grabbing a large glass before he stopped you again.

“Beer won’t do it, I need something stronger,” he spoke as he approached and settled down on one of the stool.

He rested his hand on the counter and you noticed his bloodied and bruised knuckles. He took out a white handkerchief and wiped the blood off his hand, leaving behind a red stain on the white fabric.

You set the glass down and picked up two shot glasses and his favorite liquor. You poured both shots and pushed them towards him.

“Who was it today? The French guys?” you asked with a small smile; knowing perfectly well that he must have punched someone who didn’t obey, or agree to what he said.

It was a bad habit of his; among others.

Sebastian swallowed the first shot, then the second.

He chuckled right after, cherishing the feeling as the liquor burned down his throat.

“It was. They are…troublesome,” he answered, and watched you intently as you refilled the alcohol.

You noticed a shift in him. Not in his manner, but his voice.

He leaned against the counter and watched how you pushed the glasses towards him again. He smirked and pushed on of the glasses towards you.

You looked at it, then at him, questioning the situation.

“Oh come on, it’s my birthday. Celebrate with me,” he spoke with such an ease that it sent shivers down your spine.

His voice was suddenly deep and smooth. And the grin on his face made him look even more gorgeous than he already was.

You hesitated.

“Happy Birthday, but, I shouldn’t, Mr. Stan,”

“Why not?” he spoke, tilting his head to the side. The dimmed lights accentuated his features; he looked ravishing and lethal at the same time.

“Because you’re my boss. And I shouldn’t be drinking at work, let alone with you and I still have to walk home. I’m sorry sir,”

You knew he didn’t like that. He never liked it when people turned him down. He hated hearing ‘no’, and you knew that.

He chuckled again.

“It’ll be a secret between you and I, doll. Go on,” he persisted. And given his reputation, you didn’t want to argue further with the most well-known mob of the city.

You reluctantly held the glass and brought it to your lip, while Sebastian watched you with his mischievous, blue eyes.

You tilted your head back and swallowed the contents rapidly, frowning as the liquor burned your throat.

You placed the glass back down, in front of Sebastian and he smiled back.

“Happy Birthday to me,” he teased, winking at you; knowing he has won again.

He swallowed the other shot and looked up at you, his eyes shining in the dimmed lights. There was no one else in the bar, except for the two of you.

Sending a quick glance at clock, it read that it was nearly 11 p.m.

“You want anything else, sir?” you asked, seeing that he had finished his drink but was still sat at the counter.

Of course, he owned the place; he could do whatever he wanted in it.

An enticing look was seen on his face as he looked at you right after you questioned him. He was definitely not drunk yet, but he seemed more, lively.

“Yes, actually. I wanna know you better. Tell me, Y/N, why do you stick around here? Most women would run away from a place like this, the violence, the weapons, the…men, how do you handle it?,” he asked, and leaned forward on the counter.

His face was not far from yours, and you caught the hint of the alcohol in his breath. And you had to admit, he looked good from up close.

His blue eyes bore into your e/c ones.

You knew what he meant, the men who came in here were literal pigs; rich but downright barbaric.

“Well, the weapons and the violence doesn’t scare me. My dad got into a lot of fights when I was little, and I tended to his wounds, so the violence isn’t alien to me,”

His head shot up in interest as you spoke.

“As for the men, well, being a woman in a city like this one I just learnt how to live with it. No matter what I do, or where I work, they’re still gonna eye me like I’m a piece of meat. So, I might as well earn me some money while they do that,” you finished with a small smile.

Sebastian nodded, in appreciation of the answer he got.

Without another word said, he got off the stool and walked around the counter; making his way to the side where you stood. And soon, he stood right in front of you.

You didn’t have much resistance against alcohol, one shot was all it took to make you feel the buzz.

Sebastian stood right in front of you, and his hand reached out and tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

He was so close to you now that each breathe he let out fanned your face. And his scent was almost irresistible. Strong and fresh, he smelt tempting.

“You’re very impressive, Y/N. And very pretty too,” he complimented you and for the first time, you didn’t have a proper reply to give him.

Thank you?

“You too!” you spoke almost too fast and your tone was too cheery. Shit.

You corrected yourself quickly.

“I mean, thank you. And you’re very impressive too,” you breathed in his scent. He smelt amazing. Jesus, does he always smell that good?

He chuckled. And took a step forward, causing you to take one back; resulting in you being pressed against the counter and his built frame.

He was quite the ladies’ man in the city. And you often wondered why he hadn’t been officially involved with one of the many beautiful women who always roamed around him.

“Can I touch you, doll? I’m just, gonna steal a kiss or two,” he whispered as he brought his face closer to yours. You smelt the alcohol in his breathe clearly now.

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and his scent invaded your senses.

You giggled.

“I think you’ve had too many drinks, you need to go home, sir,” you couldn’t help the smile which formed on your face.

He smiled back.

“Come on, it’s my birthday. I deserve a kiss from the prettiest girl I know,” he pouted slightly, sticking his bottom lip out. And it made you laugh.

Sebastian Stan, The Sebastian Stan; the most respected mob boss of the city was standing in front of you, pouting, because you won’t kiss him.

Good lord, what is happening?

Your giggles were cut short as he placed his hands on either side of you, on the counter. He had you trapped.

“That’s quite an excuse, sir. But really, we shouldn’t,”

“Oh yeah? What’s a better excuse then? The fact that I know you watch me longingly every time I walk in?” he smirked.

He caught you.

You blushed. And didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t lying; you indeed watched him every day. To be honest, it was the best part of your day; watching him march in with all his glory. His expensive suits, and even more expensive cologne. He was perfect.

But he was also much older than you, a gap of 15 years between the two of you. And you were a mere bartender who worked for him, so, you always believed you had no chance.

Until now, apparently.

You were flustered, and he saw it. He saw how you blushed and how you hesitated to answer. You squirmed in embarrassment, yet once his lips touched yours; you melted in his touch.

His mouth moved against yours perfectly, his tongue slipped into your mouth swiftly and you tasted the alcohol you had just served him minutes ago.

Your hand flew around his neck and your lazily caressed the back of his head. His hands were on you; one at your waist and one slipping discretely under the black skirt you were wearing.

You moaned as soon as your felt the coldness from his rings rub against your inner thighs. Was it the alcohol, or the connection between you two, but you felt a tingly sensation all over your body when he pushed your underwear aside and lazily rubbed your wet folds.

He muffled any sounds you made by placing his mouth on top of yours, tugging at your bottom lip and earning another quiet mewl out of you.

You whimpered when he teased your clit, rubbing your bundle of nerves with his finger; coating it and spreading around your arousal.

Grinding against his hand subtly, you tried to chase your orgasm as quickly as you could but he prevented you from doing so.

You whined as he stopped his actions.

“Oh no, babygirl, I want you to come around my cock,” he whispered sinfully in your ear and slipped his hand from under your skirt and turned you around so your back was pressed up against his torso.

You gripped the counter as he grabbed your skirt on either side and pulled it down until it pooled around your ankles.

You jumped when he pinched your ass. And the tingly sensation intensified as you heard the sound of him unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants.

You waited for his cock to bury itself into you, but what you felt against your dripping core was his skilled tongue.

Warm and wet against your heat; he ate you out from behind.

You shuddered and moaned out loud, his name escaping your lips like a mantra.

You felt his face pressed against your ass; his beard scratching your sensitive skin as he pulled your ass cheeks apart and latched his mouth onto your core.

His fingers lightly rubbed your clit as his tongue poked your tight entrance. Your eyes rolled back and your face lowered until your forehead touched the cold surface of the counter.

A quiet mewl escaped your lips as you heard the wet sounds which erupted from your unholy doings. You couldn’t see him, but you were sure he looked enticing with his plump, pink lips on your wet heat; you arousal dripping down his chin and coating his beard and lips as he devoured you.

There was a hunger in him, seen through his actions. And your face burned in embarrassment as you thought about how intimately he was touching you.

You whined as you felt the pressure building again.

Yet, as your moans got more and more high pitched, he lifted his mouth off you. He placed wet kissed on your lower back and lightly smacked your ass cheek.

Your body trembled. Your knees felt weak, and of it weren’t for the counter, you were sure you’d be a hot mess on the floor.

Anticipation burned bright in your gut and your core throbbed due to lack of attention from him.

“Tell me if I hurt you, babygirl. Don’t be too loud,” he whispered against the shell of your ear before placing his hand on your shoulder and urging you to bend over the counter.

Your heart raced as you did.

This was new for you. And it was exciting.

You felt his tip press against your folds, slowly rubbing up and down; parting the lips at your entrance. He moaned under his breath as he pushed himself slowly inside of you.

Your grip on the counter grew tighter as you steadied yourself for his thrust.

Slowly, he filled you up; stretching you and had you whimpering under him.

“F-fuck, you feel so good, doll,” his voice cracked as he moaned out how good you felt. And the fire inside you intensified.

You couldn’t form proper words as he started rocking into you. Slowly, then building up his pace.

You felt all of him; the raw him. And you shamelessly liked it.

Each time he filled you up entirely, the tip of his cock brushed against your most sensitive spot, and you moaned out loud each time he did so.

Your mind was hazy, by the bit of liquor in your system, and him slamming into you. His thrust was animalistic, and rough. Each time he slammed into you, your front crashed against the counter, achingly. But the pleasure his body brought you made up for that.

His hand flew to your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it, and pressed your face further into the counter. You whimpered as his pounded into your core. His pelvic bone smacking against your ass each time he did so.

The sounds of your skin slapping against one another was downright obscene, and the grunts leaving his mouth was even more sinful.

You couldn’t see him, yet you believed he looked absolutely divine with his head thrown back, eyes closed, his lips parted as occasional groans escaped his lips.

He must be quite the sight.

You moaned as he hit a sensitive spot, and he pinched your ass as you did. He seemed to be rather enjoying himself, toying with your body and using you however he liked. And not even a fiber of your body hated that – quite the contrary actually.

You felt a familiar warmth washing over you, and a pressure building in your lower region. You knew you couldn’t hold it any longer.

And when your walls clenched around him, Sebastian knew you were close as well.

“You gonna come for me, doll? Go ahead, come around my cock babygirl,” he cooed, his voice laced with lust and desire.

It didn’t take much for you to come undone after that. Gushing out around his cock, walls pulsating around him; you came, hard.

He did too. With a few strokes against your walls, he came right after you.

His warm load shooting inside you, leaving behind his presence as your body shook against the counter.

Carefully, he pulled out. And smiled sinisterly as he watched how his cum trickled out of you and past your folds. He adjusted his pants and zipped it up.

Satisfied, he pulled your underwear up, then your skirt, and finally; he pulled you up against him.

Your back was still against his torso, and his arms were around you. Unable to trust your own body, your hands gripped the counter still.

He nuzzled his face into your neck, kissed your skin and moved his lips to your ear.

“Thanks for the birthday present, doll,” he whispered teasingly in your ear. And you couldn’t help the blush, nor the smile which appeared on your face.

Let’s say, that night was quite unforgettable.

---

The next day, evening rather, you were back at work. With each step you took, each movement – you felt him.

You felt the soreness in between your legs, and the bruises on the sides of your hips where he had held you. The all the marks he left behind on your; as a reminder of his presence.

You sighed for the hundredth time that night and served your client anyway.

Each time you wiped the counter with the dark red cloth, you thought of him. How he had railed you against it, how he had pressed your face into it as he pounded into you from behind, and how he had whispered sinful things, and called you names which still made you dizzy when you think about it.

As if to tease you more, just as you thought of him; he walked in through the doors. Looking as expensive as always, Sebastian looked around.

But before his eyes met yours, you looked elsewhere.

How could you face him?

All the beautiful women who associated themselves with Sebastian earned titles. Not good ones either. Sebastian was quite a player, and stories of his promiscuity could be heard occasionally.

Spending a steamy night with the mob boss earned one a bad reputation. And now you did too. And although no one knew about it, you couldn’t help but feel as though you had been unprofessional – given you had slept with your boss.

You tried to seem busy, as you picked up clean glasses, wiped them and placed them back to where they initially were.

“Something bothering you, little one? Hate seeing pretty girls like you sulking,” commented a man who was sat the counter.

That damned counter…

He looked like he was an important persona, and you couldn’t be rude.

As much as you wanted to flip him off and tell him to kindly stay out of your business, your job required you to smile even when you received vulgar comments. After all, you worked for The Sebastian Stan, any mistake or misbehavior on your part would result as a blemish on his image.

“I’m alright, sir. Nothing to worry about. Enjoy your evening,” you replied, fake smiling politely as you kept pretending as of you were busy.

Through your peripheral vision, you noticed that Sebastian stood still in the middle of his busy bar. People around you were rather loud, so you wondered if he heard any of the interaction between you and the man.

You didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to come up to you, you couldn’t look at him. Was it shame, embarrassment, or the fact that you liked how he had fucked you like he owned you?

You didn’t know. All you knew is that you couldn’t look him in the eye.

“Probably would’ve enjoyed it better if you came home with me tonight. You’re a pretty thing, you know that? Girls like you don’t belong to places like these,” he spoke and sipped on his gin and tonic.

Good lord. Here we go again…

You opened your mouth to politely tell him off but before you could, another voice intervened.

“Careful there, Stark. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Sebastian spoke, his voice smooth and almost melodic.

As soon as he spoke, you immediately thought of how he had been moaning while he was pounding into you the previous night.

And your head lowered as your face flushed again. You still couldn’t look at him.

The man named ‘Stark’ laughed and turned to face Sebastian, then you felt as though he looked at you again. Both their stared burning on your skin.

You felt exposed as your eyes flicked to that damned counter again.

“Why so? Is this one taken or something?” Stark spoke in a mocking voice; testing Sebastian’s patience.

Stark had a smug look on his face, which was quickly wiped off as soon as Sebastian spoke.

“She is. She’s mine,” his words caused you to finally look up at him. Stark was surprised, he scoffed and left.

Sebastian’s blue eyes sparkled as they looked into yours. A pleasant smirk on his gorgeous face as he looked at you intently.

Not a word was spoken, yet a promise was made.

Bad reputation or not, you had no problem with being his.

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starbuckie · 4 years

Text

Some Quarantine Lovin’ Chapter Five: Love is a Many Splendored Thing

Marvel Highschool! AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Obscene amounts of fluff, kissing, swearing, kinda a lot of angst

Description: Bucky Barnes is absolutely, no doubt about it, in love with Y/N L/N. He’s loved her since the day he laid eyes on her in the third grade. He loved her when he had his own girlfriend, and when he was barely friends with her for a whole summer. And of course, in his freshman year, they are now stuck together. In a house. During a worldwide quarantine. This should be fun.

**WARNING: MENTIONS OF DEATH, CAR CRASH, MENTIONS OF ABUSE, AND INJURY IN THIS CHAPTER**

Words: 5,207 words

A/N: Hey guys! We’re almost at the end of this series, and I’m a little sad. This was my first ever fic, so it’s always gonna be my baby. This chapter deals with death, mentions of abuse, and a car crash, so if you didn’t see my warning above, and you are triggered by any of these things, please do not read because I don’t want to upset any of you. However, if you do read and find something offensive, please please contact me and I will do my best to fix it, and I don’t mean any harm at all, and am sorry in advance. Also, I listened to this “howlos” playlist while writing this and it is an absolute masterpiece. Moving on from that, thank you so much to my beta @transparentfestivaltiger as always, and thank you for reading!

(also seb looks like a freakin’ baby here)

Things didn’t change as much as Bucky thought they would after he and Y/N confessed to each other. They still had the same sweet friendship from before, but now they could sneak in a kiss or two, and there were a lot more heated glances and affection.

As soon as Y/N’s parents had come home that evening, they knew exactly what had happened. Of course, Mary and Charlie L/N had known that the pair of best friends liked each other: it had been obvious since the third grade. Though Y/N and Bucky may have not realized it that early, they had practically been an old married couple since the beginning of their friendship. Now that they were in a “relationship”(or as much of one as they could be in while quarantined together), they weren’t allowed to sleep in the same room together, and they were watched a lot closer. While Bucky blushed and apologized every time Y/N’s parents caught them kissing, Y/N laughed. She knew her parents were happy for her, and frankly, it was adorable to see Bucky turn into a bumbling mess.

It had only been two weeks into quarantine when they had kissed, so they unfortunately still had to go to classes. Of course, no one else knew about it but their friends, but Bucky wanted to yell it to the world, thus having him proclaim, “I kissed Y/N L/N!” in their physics class, which disturbed Mr. Fury, but he congratulated them nonetheless. Yeah, there was non stop teasing from their classmates after that.

The weeks kept rolling by, and soon enough, they had a week off of school for spring break, when Bucky took his best girl on a date. The two claimed to be in a relationship, but after Sam pointed out that Bucky had never actually asked Y/N out on a first date, he panicked. With the help of her parents, he managed to pull off a date at Prospect Park, right by the big lake. Bucky had insisted on being a “proper gentleman” like his mama has taught him, and went so far as to pick Y/N up from the front door, which her parents swore was the cutest thing they had ever seen. He made his mom’s old pumpkin pancake recipe, and they had breakfast for lunch, sitting in the grass, just talking for hours, and trying to refrain from removing their masks so they could make out with each other. Once it had finally hit evening, they walked hand in hand on the way back to her house and spent the rest of the night watching movies and cuddling.

After that, the duo wanted to spend the rest of spring break catching up on sleep that they had missed, but Y/N’s mom forced them to wake up at eight in the morning every day that week to get exercise. Neither of them were pleased. However, as much as they disliked the exercise, it gave them a chance to be alone. Y/N and Bucky went on tons of walks around Brooklyn, strolling down memory lane as they found someplace that they had forgotten about from when they were younger. It was nice for the two of them to just talk about their futures and how much the virus would affect it.

Spring break was unwillingly coming to an end, but Mr. L/N refused to let either one of the students be seen in online classes until they had cut their hair. Sure, it was only mid-April, but Bucky’s hair had turned into a messy flop of brown hair that fell just past his ears. While Y/N opted to cut her hair herself(which resulted in a choppy, uneven cut that Bucky and her family made fun of), Bucky asked Y/N to cut it for him.

“Are you sure, Buck?” She chided. “You saw how mine came out, and you make fun of it, yet you still ask me to do it?”

The messy-haired boy sat in a chair in the bathtub, in just his boxers, holding a spray bottle of water. “Y/N, your hair may look like shit,” he grinned at her face of mock offense, “But I trust you completely with mine. Plus, you’ll actually be looking at it while you cut.”

“I was looking when I did my hair!” Y/N argued.

Bucky laughed at her exasperation. “If you were looking in the mirror while cutting that, it makes it so much more sad.” She scoffed at his witty comeback and snipped off a piece of his hair. “Hey, give me a warning!”

“Sorry, baby,” she giggled. “Are you ready now?” With a deep exhale and nod of his head, Y/N took the spray bottle from his hands and began to dampen his hair. It didn’t take too long, just a few quick snips by the base of his neck, and she considered it done, and a hell of a lot less scruffy looking. She had spent her last day of break looking at styles and instructions on how to cut hair on Pinterest, and while she knew she wasn’t a professional, she thought she did pretty damn well.

“Okay, Buck, you can look now.” Y/N handed him a small compact mirror, and he dramatically squeezed his eyes shut. Rolling her eyes at his reaction, she said, “Come on, quit being a drama queen. I think you look very handsome.”

Finally, Bucky opened his eyes and looked at his shorter cut. She was right, it didn’t look too bad, and he looked less “homeless” as her father had called it. Running a hand through his freshly cut hair, he grinned, but stopped after taking in her words. “Was I not handsome before, doll?” He wore a small frown on his face, which Y/N kissed off.

“Buck, you’re always handsome, don’t be silly.”

He smirked and pulled her onto his lap. “I know.”

She leaned her head down on his shoulder and whispered, “Cocky bastard.” He delivered a pinch to her hip, which made her yelp. Grinning, he kissed her and she turned in his lap to straddle him. Her hands slipped into his freshly cut hair and tugged, making him moan a little into her parted lips. During their make out, however, they didn’t hear the footsteps of Mrs. L/N, and only looked up when they heard her groan.

“Good lord, can you two not keep your hands off of each other for five goddamn seconds?” Y/N quickly got up from Bucky’s lap under her mom’s careful watch. “Ria is on the phone, right now, but I’ll tell her to call back.”

At the mention of her older sister, Y/N jumped out of the bathtub. “No! No, I'm here, let me talk to her!” She scrambled to get to the phone, but slipped on the bath mat and landed on the tile with an “oof”. Bucky, being the protective boyfriend he was, immediately got up and ran to her.

“Are you okay, doll?” Her nose was a little red from bumping it on the ground, but she grinned nonetheless. Ria’s laughter could be heard over the phone, and her mom was trying very hard to stifle her laughter. With a quick nod, she took Bucky’s hand and got up.

“I’m great! Ria, you’re a little shit.” The girl stalked over to the phone and started talking and squabbling animatedly with her sister on the call.

Bucky and Mrs. L/N took one look at each other and started cracking up together. She pulled him into a hug, and whispered, “You make her so happy, Bucky. Thank you so much.”

He looked up to this mother figure of his and shook his head. “No. Thank you, Mrs. L/N, for being so happy for us. To be honest, I didn’t think you or Mr. L/N would be too happy ‘cuz of my father.”

The older woman frowned at Bucky and looked at him dead in the eyes. “You have nothing to feel guilty about, Bucky. Your father doesn’t define you as a person and trust me, James, you are the best kid that I know. You take good care of your little sister and all who you love, and every day I think about how lucky your mother was that she got to have a kid like you.”

Bucky’s eyes started to fill with tears, but he managed to whisper out a “thank you” with a croaky voice. Dropping a kiss to his forehead, Mrs. L/N walked away, leaving him with a sad smile on his face until Y/N popped her head back into the bathroom.

“Buck! Ria wants to talk to us both! She misses you a ton.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, which Y/N noticed, but didn’t mention, and went to grab his hand to walk to her bedroom and talk to Ria.

School started again the next day, leaving the six students in their friend group complaining and nearly on the verge of crying within the first two classes. They didn’t have finals this year, but teachers still assigned them “tests”, which really were the same thing with a different name.

As it grew closer and closer to the end of the year, it became hotter and hotter, Y/N and Bucky becoming sweaty messes in their study rooms. One particular early May afternoon, Y/N sat in her bedroom, waiting for her play rehearsal to start. This year, they were (going) to put on a production of Steve Martin’s Picasso at the Lapin Agile. She was cast as Freddy, the local Parisian bartender, so she was working on her accent with her lines from her script.

“Yeah, well, we're all writers, aren't we? He's a writer that hasn't been published, and I'm a writer who hasn't written anything.” Y/N spoke loudly. From behind her, she heard a booming laugh.

Bucky stood in her doorway, grinning, no shirt on due to the blaring hot weather. “If that was your French accent, then you definitely need to keep working on it.”

He walked into the room, swooping down to place a kiss on Y/N’s awaiting lips. His arms would’ve wrapped themselves around her shoulders, but she quickly pushed him back. Chucking at his frowning expression, she said, “It is way too hot to be hugging me right now, but we can settle for a romantic high five.”

“A what?”

She sighed like it was the most obvious thing. “Well, as much as I would love to, I cannot hug you right now because it’s too hot. What I can offer you, however, is a romantic high five. A high five that says, we’re not just friends, but we’ve been dating for about a month and it’s not just platonic.”

Amused expression on his face, he plopped himself down on her bed. “And how would one share a ‘romantic high five’ with their ridiculously beautiful girlfriend?” Grinning, she walked over to him and gave him a high five while kissing him. He smiled against her lips, and asked, “Like that?”

With one more peck, she sat back in her seat and picked up her phone. “Exactly like that.” They were fools who were completely, and utterly in love with each other, though neither of them had said it to the other yet. Lovesick smiles painted on their faces, they both sat staring at each other until Mrs. L/N suddenly broke into the room, wide eyes teary and a frown on her face. Both of the kids looked to each other, then at the mom.

“Mom, what is it?” It was concerning for Y/N to see her mom in this panicked state, considering that her mom was well put together, and she had only seen her break down on a few occasions.

She turned to Bucky, and with a small voice, said, “It's your father, Bucky. He’s gotten into a crash.”

Silence.

That was all that was left in the room. When Bucky’s heartbeat stopped pounding, he could hear his harsh breathing and see Y/N in front of him, her hand covering his heart. “James, can you hear me? You passed out.” Her hand moved to his cheek to wipe off tears he hadn’t even known were falling. “My mom’s getting Becca into the car so we can go to the hospital, though I told her you might not want to go right now. He’s going to be in surgery for the next few hours, but it’s whatever you need, okay, James? Whatever you need.”

He sat up, grabbing Y/N’s hands and squeezing on to them tight. “I want to go.” Though Bucky was worried, he pulled himself together on the outside. Goddamn it, Barnes, he thought, pull yourself the fuck together. He knew he was being too harsh on himself, but it was part of his nature, and he couldn’t get rid of the nagging voice in his head telling him to do better. “I’ll go put a shirt on and meet you guys in the car. Do your parents have masks?” Y/N nodded, tears in her eyes, and placed a featherlight kiss to his forehead before he left.

He grabbed a hoodie from the guest room, and turned to leave, but saw Becca’s baby animal book. It had been his before, something his mom would read to him to calm him down, and he saw it as his comfort object. Snagging it from the bedside table, he ran through the halls and out the door, where he saw Mr. and Mrs. L/N sitting in the front, and Y/N waiting for him with the car door open on the left side. He and Y/N climbed into the back seat and strapped themselves in, trapping Becca in her car seat in between the two teens.

Becca’s pretty blue eyes were teary, and she whimpered quietly, almost as if she knew what was going on around her. She was just one year old, still so innocent, and wasn’t even aware that her father never looked after her, or beat her mother before she had died giving birth to her. Bucky grabbed onto her foot softly, an action that consoled Becca’s quiet cries.

The car rumbled beneath them, and Y/N looked over to Bucky on the other side of the car. His face was stoic, staring out of the window with a sheen of calm surrounding him. His eyes weren’t teary anymore, but she could see the storm that was brewing beneath them. She knew that he was worrying a lot, his thoughts probably a jumbled mess of negativity, and underlying guilt. It wasn’t his fault, not even close, but she knew for a fact he was blaming himself anyway. She reached over to lay her palm over the hand that was holding Becca’s foot, and Bucky looked over to Y/N’s eyes, and gave her a small, sad smile.

The rest of the car ride was silent, Y/N’s parents choosing to say nothing, knowing that Bucky didn’t want to talk. He would always get closed off with his emotions during hard times, and it took him a very long time to open up about his feelings. When the New York-Presbyterian Brooklyn Methodist Hospital came into view, Bucky’s heart started to beat at an alarming rate.

“Y/N, Bucky, how about we drop you off at the front, okay? Tell them that you are his son, they’ll help you.” Y/N’s mom was facing them, trying to remain calm. Bucky nodded, and when they pulled up to the front, the two students worked together to get Becca out of her seat and jump out of the car. Y/N hoisted the small baby up onto her hip as Bucky grabbed her hand and led them inside the doors.

The light was an unnatural blinding white, and people surrounded the waiting room with masks on. There were people sleeping, people tapping their feet nervously, and people looking like they would love nothing more than to get out of the room. Briskly, the two marched up to the reception desk. Surprisingly, it was Bucky who spoke up.

“Excuse me, ma’am, my name is James Barnes, I’m the son of George Barnes, and I believe he’s in surgery right now. His contacts are the same for all of us, and I think you called a Mary L/N to inform us of the accident.”

The pretty blonde at the desk looked surprised at the straightforward greeting from the young boy, but she just adjusted her mask over her nose a bit more and nodded. After a few seconds of typing, she turned to the side and grabbed a file of paperwork. “Hi James, my name is Tina, and I’m a nurse here. Your dad is going to be in surgery for about an hour more I believe, but here’s the paperwork that you or Mrs. L/N are going to need to fill out. If you have any questions, you can come ask me.”

With a quick thank you to Tina, the three children went to go sit in the back of the waiting room, where a small cluster of seats stood. Y/N texted her mom to let her parents know that they had made it inside quickly while Bucky started filling out the forms. “Wait, Y/N, can you ask your mom to bring the book that’s sitting in the backseat?”

He knew it was trivial, but he really needed that book. Y/N could see the pleading in his eyes, and nodded without question. She would have to ask him later. “Of course, James.” She always called him James during serious moments, knowing that it was what his mom called him, and it soothed him a lot. He continued to fill out the information he knew on the papers. About ten minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. L/N came in, masks on and book in hand from the parking lot. There was only one seat left, so Mr. L/N let his wife sit as he stood and looked around the area.

It was surprisingly very quiet for the next hour and a half. Bucky had finished the paperwork with the help of Mrs. L/N within thirty minutes, but he spent the rest of his time assuring Steve’s family he was okay on a phone call and reading the baby book to Becca over and over again.

“Not a hot dog; my hot dog.” Bucky spoke in a higher pitched voice than normal. He was always gentle with his little sister, wanting her to know that he was a calming, caring presence in comparison to his loud father. Becca pointed to the pigeon holding a hot dog on the page, giggling and spouting nonsensical baby gurgles.

Y/N smiled at the two, and closed her eyes while listening to Bucky read the children’s book. Though he had read it numerous times in their time in the waiting room, his soothing voice just lulled her to sleep even more. She hummed a song under her breath, and let sleep take over her.

“Mary L/N! Is there a Mary L/N in here?” A nurse dressed in baby blue scrubs and a mask entered the waiting room and Bucky shot out of his chair. Y/N rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and brought Becca closer to her chest. As Y/N’s mom raised her hand, the nurse walked towards them. “Can I talk to you alone please?”

Bucky and Y/N looked at each other with confusion written on their faces, but Mrs. L/N answered the kind nurse before Bucky could open his mouth. “Of course, lead the way.”

He knew what this meant. There was no other reason that the nurse would ask to speak to the parent alone, and his heartbeat started speeding up again. A lump rose in his throat, and he was barely able to say, “Can I hold my sister please?” Y/N nodded, knowing what the nurse and her mom were talking about as well. She handed the now quiet baby over to his shaking hands, and looked into his eyes.

They didn’t even shed a tear.

Bucky could barely remember walking down the white hallways, turning the corner, taking deep breaths and holding onto Mrs. L/N’s hand. Y/N and her dad weren’t allowed in, as they were trying to keep as low of a number as possible inside the room, so he didn’t have the comfort of his girlfriend being there with him as he faced one of his greatest fears.

The room was quiet when they entered, another nurse and a doctor standing at the foot of the bed where George Barnes lay. His eyes were shut from what Bucky could see, but his head was bruised and covered in a bandage, most likely covering a shaved head and gaudy scars. “He was drunk, James, he didn’t have control, and the other car didn’t see him either. He had serious trauma to the head, and a broken wrist when he entered surgery. George was in critical condition when he was brought in, but he died in surgery. I’m sorry.”

Bucky managed to nod numbly and look down at his dad. He didn’t know what to say to him. “We’ll give you a few minutes alone.” The nurses and doctor shuffled out of the room and Mrs. L/N placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Do you want me to leave, James?” Again, he softly nodded without a word and didn’t look up as her footsteps echoed away in the empty room. Bucky secured his arms around Becca better as he walked over to take his father’s cold hand.

Bucky could only hear his heartbeat, as all the monitors were off. Even his little sister was quiet, her small squirms nonexistent. He took a few deep breaths through his mouth,and let them out through his nose. His blue eyes focused on his father’s hands, ones that used to bring him so much pain and suffering, that now laid limp and still. Finally, Bucky let out the three words that he had never heard back from his father.

“I love you.” Pause. Becca started moving around again, but he shushed her gently. “I think that’s all that needs to be said. Goodbye.”

He placed a soft kiss on his dad’s temple, and left quickly. As soon as he opened the door, he pushed past all the people waiting for them to be done and made his way back to Y/N in the waiting room. He could hear the doctor calling his name after, but Mrs. L/N must have stopped him because he stopped hearing it after a while. Y/N stood up when she saw Bucky, but he silently grabbed her hand and led them outside. Glancing over her shoulder, she shooed her dad away, and followed him outside.

She didn’t speak until they were back in the car. They had walked around for a while, realizing they didn’t know where it was. Settling into their seats, Y/N took the bottle of hand sanitizer from the front seat cup holder and squeezed some into both of their hands. “Are you okay, James?”

He looked at her with a straight face. “Yeah.” She frowned with his short answer, but she knew he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“Bucky, you know it’s okay to cry, it’s just me here. It’s okay to let your emotions out sometimes. You can talk to me, like always.” She reached over to take his hand, but he moved it away. She knew it was just part of what he was feeling, but she couldn’t help but to feel hurt either way.

“I don’t need to let my emotions out, I’m fine,” he responded in a clipped voice. Y/N nodded softly and placed her hand on Becca’s foot, wondering what had happened. Sure, Bucky had had times where he wouldn’t talk to anyone, but eventually she would always be able to get to the bottom of it and support him. This new, closed off feeling from him was different for her, and she didn’t know what had gone wrong. It was quiet for the next twenty minutes as they waited for Y/N’s parents, and even then they barely spoke. As soon as they got back to the house in Brooklyn Heights, Bucky took Becca and immediately went to their room. Y/N let out a dejected sigh and started to head to her room to email the director of her play, when her mom stopped her.

“Honey, give him some time, okay? He’s just lost his father, and I know that he doesn’t like to talk about his feelings, but it’s different now. Both of his parents have passed, and it’s a really big change for him.” She brought her daughter into a hug and dropped a kiss on her cheek before retiring to her room. Y/N walked into her room, flopping on her bed, quiet tears for her boyfriend rolling down her face.

Bucky didn’t attend dinner that night, which was okay with the rest of them. Y/N was still having a hard time not going to his room and smothering him in sweet nothings and hugs, but she understood that he needed time to process the past few hours. Her mom was right: it was a huge change. He was now orphaned, and only fifteen. Eventually, he’d need new guardians, and none of his close family was alive, and his other relatives from Romania probably had no clue he existed.

At around one in the morning, when Y/N’s parents had fallen asleep, Y/N crept out of her room quietly to check on Bucky. The door creaked a bit when it opened, giving her a view of her boyfriend sitting cross-legged on the bed, shoulders shaking from his silent sobs. He looked up upon hearing the door open, and wiped his tears off as fast as he could. “Hey, doll.”

She didn’t say anything but simply pushed him back down onto the bed gently and wrapped her arms around him. It took a few seconds, but the tears started falling again, his crying quiet. Y/N just held him for a few minutes, as he let out his tears, and rubbed his chest soothingly. When he was done, he kissed her gently and said, “Thank you.” It took another few moments, but he started talking soon enough. “I shouldn’t be sad. Right? I mean, he’s the man who hit me and my ma relentlessly, and all my life has been nothing but hell because of him. I should be fucking celebrating right now. Right?”

His watery blue eyes stared into hers, and she sighed, taking Bucky’s hands and bringing them to a sitting position. “I think it makes sense.” Y/N whispered.

Makes sense? It made no sense to him. “How can you say that?” He questioned incredulously. “This man treated us like shit, he blamed Becca for my mom’s death, he would hit me, tell me I’m not good enough,and I still worked my ass off for him. He didn’t love us! And after all the shit he put us through, put me through, why do I still care? Why do I still love him? It doesn't make sense.” Hot tears slipped down his face again, as he whispered, “It doesn’t make sense.”

He started to cry again, and Y/N pulled his head into the crook of her neck as his arms latched like vices around her torso. Running her fingers through his short brown hair, she said, “It may not make sense to you, but no matter what, as horrible as he was, that man is still your father. What he did to you was evil, pure evil, it truly was, but I can understand why after everything you’ve been through, you still love him. It doesn’t make you less of a man or weak. It makes you stronger, and I can’t be more proud of the person you’ve become since I met you. You have nothing to feel sorry for, James Buchanan Barnes. This is not your fault. None of this is.”

She moved her lips to his, and they moved against each other languidly. “I love you, James.”

His eyes opened, and hers watered up at her confession. “I love you too, Y/N.” They brought their lips together again, her thumbs rubbing small circles onto his cheekbones as they breathed each other in. When they finally pulled away, Bucky had the smallest of smiles playing across his lips. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Y/N made sure Bucky was staring at her directly, and she spoke with a firm voice. “Whatever comes next, we’ll get through it together. I promise, James.” Pressing his lips against hers one more time, he grabbed his phone off the stand and started to swipe through it. “Are you okay, Buck? You need anything? We can talk more if you need.”

Opening Spotify, he opened his “Slow Dance with Y/N” playlist. “I Can’t Believe That You’re In Love With Me” by Billie Holiday started playing, and Y/N knew exactly what he was doing. Bucky had had the playlist since the sixth grade, when he first bought his phone with the money he earned from babysitting, and the pair had danced to it numerous times before he had started dating Dot. But he didn’t even play that with her. No, this one was for his best girl, no matter what. Y/N was too special to share with anyone. Offering her his left hand with a shy grin, Y/N smiled big with an eye roll and graciously accepted it.

“Oldies music again, Bucky?” She was teasing him, and he knew it as well. Y/N absolutely adored this playlist, that he made just for the two of them, with her entire heart. Pulling her flush against his chest, his right hand coming to rest on her waist, he kissed her hair lightly.

“Well, you have always called me old fashioned, sweetheart.” He twirled her around, her giggling as they danced around the room. Becca slept soundly in the crib and the moonlight illuminated their faces. “I think this song fits in well right now.”

Y/N sighed, letting her eyes close. “It really does.” After a few seconds, she remembered her previous question that had gone unanswered and asked again. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about anything else, Buck?”

“I think I’m done, doll. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just wanna dance with you.”

And he did, softly dancing barefoot, with the occasional twirl, until falling asleep hours later. When Y/N’s parents came to check in on them the next morning, they smiled seeing their daughter and the boy she loved so dearly wrapped around each other, quiet snores escaping the both of them.

TAGLIST

@transparentfestivaltiger @barnesjamcs @kitkatd7 @adorkably

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rustandruin · 4 years

Note

Can you just drop Robert's return and Robrons reunion out into the universe now please?? You seem to have......ways of predicting future canon. Please make it so!

Hey Anon!

This is very sweet of you, but I think the instances you’re referring to were just really me giving Robert and Aaron my own personal interests because I thought they fit well! (So please approach this with multiple grains of salt scattered liberally over your shoulder.)

That said, I think a really cool way to bring Robert back would be with everyday soap logic. Something happens so he’s released for good behaviour or something within the next few. Now what? He’s given up Aaron (and Liv and Seb), the only thing that really mattered to him, so he’s unmoored. He tries to live an Aaron-less life, settle down in Leeds, get a job in some marketing firm doing the accounts, starts small again, etc. (I like to think he somehow reads and studies a lot while he’s away in fancy white-collar prison, but I digress.)

For the most part, he’s doing fine. Only October 5th hits and it’s his and Aaron’s fifth anniversary. He goes to a bar after work because he’s a bit maudlin and maybe gets hit on by a cute bartender, but turns them down because he really meant what he said to Aaron all those years ago. It’s him. It’ll always be him. He doesn’t want anyone else. Five years in prison and all he can think about is how good Aaron looked on a suit on the day he officially made him his husband.

And because he’s full of booze by a certain hour and getting quite sentimental, he does what any emotional bisexual does: he calls himself a taxi to a little village in the dales, because he wants to visit a certain gazebo.

Unfortunately, Aaron has done exactly what Robert had told him to do. He’s moved on. He doesn’t have Seb in his life anymore, and Liv’s moved out and is working in Manchester. (Thanks to Robert’s guidance and Doug’s and Belle’s, she’s working at a start-up in Manchester, living her best life.) So he’s currently in a longterm relationship with Jason, a handsome accountant friend of Ryan’s who ran into Aaron when Ryan was helping update the Holey Scrap website, and politely flirted with him enough that even Jimmy King noticed and told him to take him up on it. (Aaron doesn’t know this, but Jimmy has secretly taken it upon himself to hold up his “Robert’s second best friend” duties even though Robert’s not here, because he knows that’s what Robert would want.)

Jason, who is also the new accountant at Home Farm and helps the new owner figure out a whole money scandal with the business, knows about Robert and how special that date is, so he offers to take Aaron away for the weekend as a form of distraction. With some more of Jimmy’s egging (because he’s also pulling double duty as Aaron’s secret second best friend atm), Aaron does take Jason up on his offer and goes away to Manchester to see Liv with him.

While there, Aaron has a ton of fun and realises that Jason really is a great guy and that if he had to move on from Robert and marry someone else, Jason would be an ideal pick. The sex is good, his family likes him, and Aaron actually does love him underneath it all. Of course, it’s not the earth-shattering love he had with Robert, because nothing will ever match that, but it’s enough. He never thought he’d move on from Robert, but look! He’s found it in himself to look at another man and get butterflies. It’s progress!

He doesn’t tell Liv or Jason, but the whole ride home he’s thinking of his wedding day with Robert and how he might propose to Jason. (Jason’s always floated the idea of marriage, but has never pressed because he has enough sense to ignore Paddy and Chas and listen to what Aaron’s not saying: i.e. that he doesn’t want to get married again.)

And THAT’s when it strikes! The massive week-long event that Emmerdale has been hyping up all month: A plane crash that causes a multi-car pile up. (The plane crash has to do with the new owner of Home Farm confronting the person related to the embezzlement of funds.)

Aaron and Jason are caught up in pile up it but aren’t hurt. Unfortunately, Cain is and it’s serious, so they rush to the hospital. Aaron has flashbacks the whole time and can’t help but wonder if this is how Robert felt when it was him.

They get to the hospital and Jason goes to park the car and Aaron goes rushing in, and a familiar blonde nurse says “Oh! You’re here. Thank goodness. He won’t settle.”

She grabs him by the arm as she drags him to a room, Aaron asks if Cain’s alright, and she says they don’t know. They still have to run tests. Aaron tries to text Chas with one hand because his phone is blowing up. The Dingles are trying to make sure everyone is accounted for.

It’s not until he finishes sending his text that he looks up and his heart stops. There’s no way the face looking back at him is the face that is right now. There’s no way those eyes and those freckles and those lips can belong to anyone else.

He must be imagining things. “Robert?”

And that’s when he hears it. The voice he’s practically memorised off a short video message and several others they’ve sent each other during their time together; fleeting snippets of a life shared.

“Aaron!” Robert exclaims looking at him with nothing but love and happiness. Then he frowns, brow furrowing as he frowns and looks Aaron over. “Thought you’d at least dress up for our honeymoon.”

(The doctors find nothing physically wrong with Robert, just a special kind of soap-induced memory loss. And because he still thinks Aaron and he are married, he moves back into the Mill with Aaron, thus kicking off a three-month love triangle of Aaron and Robert and Jason, where Aaron must figure out which man holds his future and Robert has to slowly come to terms with how life has moved on and changed around him.)

And there you have it! This is how I would do it if I were an Emmerdale producer with a billion dollars in the bank. Or just a new producer. Bring Ryan back with the promise of a juicy storyline (amnesia), a clean slate for Robert and Aaron to move forward from (amnesia), and a way for them to revisit their relationship and work through the pain of what he did in prison and how he stayed away while getting out, thus moving them towards a third reunion/wedding. (This time in the gazebo, when Robert finally has his memory back and is really giving himself a hell of a reunion tour.)

In any case, it’s the perfect way to hide Ryan’s return (a big event which they can keep promoting), while giving said event a banner ending, especially if you want to give Danny/Aaron a nice juicy storyline moving forward. (Being torn between two men who love him and he loves in turn. Though we all know he’ll be back with Robert within a month or so, or at least by Christmas, where maybe they can have their own Christmas special, but this time it’s like a sliding sideways type deal where Aaron sees how his future would be with both men and he truly has to choose.)

Though, in my hypothetical universe, I do think the news will be “leaked” and then we’ll all tune in and they’ll get the high ratings they want. I dunno. I hope it turns out this way and we all get surprised with Robert showing up in a hospital bed thinking that time hasn’t passed at all because that would be such a good parallel to him walking into the pub like he did when he returned in 2014.

#robron #emmerdale #robert sugden #aaron dingle #ryan hawley #rust and ruin has thoughts #rust and ruin answers #Anonymous

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

Boston Boys [Part Twelve]

Summary: Chris’s birthday turns out more eventful than planned. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 2011 Chapter Warnings: Drinking, gun violence, mildly physical angry reaction. Square Filled: The entire series (well, bits and pieces of it) will fill my Crossover square for @marvelfluffbingo. A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :) AN2: This story has been sitting at eighteen chapters in the doc for monthsssss but last night I busted out the last two chapters -- it is actually completed, and I’m super excited to continue sharing it with all of you!

Boston Boys Masterlist

“Here’s to Chris!” Seb yelled, climbing up on the bar and holding his beer over his head. “Not a single one of us jackasses would be where we are today if it weren’t for him!”

“Get off the bar, ya drunk bastard!” Chris yelled back, laughing heartily.

Seb laughed along as he continued. “He’s a friend and a brother to those of us who need it most. He keeps his head on straight, even when we pull him in a million directions, trying to keep us all in line. To the best friend I’ve ever had! Chris Evans, ladies and gentlemen!”

Everyone in Stan’s cheered -- except for Scarlett, who drank her beer and stayed where she was, seated at a booth close enough to seem like she was joining in the fun, but far enough away that she didn’t have to actually participate.

Seb climbed carefully down from the bar, shared a man-hug with Chris, then beelined for Scarlett. A smile broke through when she saw him coming over to her. She happily accepted the kiss he offered.

“Come on and join us, doll,” Seb beckoned. “You’re all the way over here, you’re missing the good stuff.”

“I’m good where I’m at.” She drank half the contents of the beer bottle in front of her, then shook her head. “I don’t get it, Seb. You were shot. Dying. Chris was nowhere to be found. He still won’t give you any answers about where he was. But you can stand here and celebrate him?”

Seb frowned. “He’s my brother, Scar. Doesn’t matter where he was, only that he showed up as soon as he could. Whatever he was doing didn’t hurt any of us so --”

“How do you know that?” Scarlett argued.

“How do I know what?”

“That he wasn’t doing anything to hurt any of us.”

Seb let out a breath. “Listen to me. I wanna be with you, but whatever you’ve got against Chris is going to make that really difficult if it keeps up. So, why don’t you tell me something real, huh? What’s the big deal?”

Scarlett stared up at him, her jaw slack. When she couldn’t think of anything else to say to argue, she swallowed down what was left of her beer and pushed out of the booth.

“Why bother, Seb? He’s your brother and clearly can’t do anything wrong.”

Seb made to grab for her arm, but Scarlett turned on him with such an angry look, he wasn’t sure she would ever let him touch her again.

Chris chugged back yet another shot, thinking how upset Elsa was going to be when he arrived in New York hungover the next day. Maybe if he could shut it down sometime soon, it wouldn’t be so bad by the time he met her family. Saying no to all the people wanting to buy him shots wasn’t easy to do, but they would just have to understand. Things were different now.

Seb came to sit on the barstool next to him, immediately flagging down the bartender. Chris smirked and accepted one last beer.

“Problems on the homefront?”

“Eh,” Seb waved him off. “She’s pissed off and I’m not sure even she knows why. Women.”

“Yeah, women,” Chris echoed. He cleared his throat and looked around. “Seb, when you guys met Elsa the other day, you didn’t think anything was weird about me and her being together?”

Seb shrugged. “Nah, why? Something I shoulda picked up? Yeah, she’s clearly outta your league, but what chick isn’t.”

Chris laughed and shoved his friend. “If I told you -- you know what, nevermind.”

“C’mon, man. What’s up?” Seb prodded.

Chris shook his head. “Not tonight. When I come back, all right?”

“Sure, whatever you say. Takin’ off, then?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah, it’s time. I’m not really packed yet and if I don’t start warding off the hangover now, I’ll be a mess meeting her family tomorrow.”

They stood from the barstools and exchanged another man-hug. Amidst protests from Seb, he dropped a couple of bills on the counter, then made out of the bar to walk home.

Still reeling from John’s proposal and the information they had traded over supper, Aurelie was quiet as they left the diner and went back to his car. He opened the door for her, then closed it again quickly. Aurelie raised her brow at him.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “but what if we found a place to crash here in Attleboro tonight? Just leave the shit in Boston for a while and be happy.”

Aurelie smiled and agreed that was an excellent idea. They got in the car and John searched out a hotel or bed-and-breakfast still taking reservations. Aurelie took out her phone; only one text was waiting for her, from a number she didn’t recognize, from over thirty minutes ago.

Your brother goes down tonight. Say your goodbyes while you can.

Her heart stopped. She went into panic mode, trying to think of where Chris would be. She called Stan’s; Chris was still there. If they could get back to Boston fast enough, maybe she could get Chris to protect himself. She called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. She left a frantic voicemail, then begged John to go back to Boston.

“What? Aurelie, what’s going on?”

She showed him the text message. “I know you and Chris have this feuding families thing, but he’s my brother, Johnny. Please.”

John only had to think about it for a split second before he hit the accelerator and spun tires getting out of the diner parking lot.

The weather was beautiful, so Chris took the long way home. His new place was still within walking distance of everything, even if it was a little further than the old place. With the Red Sox game playing from an app on his phone and a cigarette in his hand, he was going to enjoy this little jaunt.

But it took less than half an inning to catch notice of the car that was trailing him. Chris’s walk became even longer as he avoided heading towards his new place. Whoever was behind him, he didn’t want them to know where he was living now, not when he could put his own life in danger that way. Not when he could put Elsa’s life in danger that way.

The first shot that rang out hit a brick building Chris was walking past. He felt the pieces that shattered and flew away from the building and towards him. He shoved his phone in his pocket and took off running; one of the few nights he chose to leave his protection at home and now here he was.

He ducked into the same alleyway that he and Sebastian had hidden in once after stealing candy bars from the corner shop, but the alleyway was more of a back road and it certainly wasn’t a dead end, so the car followed him, still firing off shots but missing. Whoever was behind him was either sending a warning or hoping for the best.

In the same moment he had that thought, the next bullet grazed into his shoulder. Chris groaned and gripped the joint, his hand coming away covered in bright red. At the next intersection, with the car gaining on him, he looked both ways, trying to decide where to go. Where could he go?

Another shot rang out, narrowly missing him. Chris decided going to the left would be his best bet, but an SUV squealed to a stop in front of him.

“Get in!”

Glancing between the car behind him and John Krasinski, of all people, in front of him, Chris tried to weigh his options as quickly as possible.

“Chris, get in, damn it!” Aurelie shouted from the passenger seat. He hadn’t even seen her there until she yelled at him.

With his sister in the car, Chris wasn’t second guessing anything anymore. He opened the back driver’s side door and slid onto the leather seat. He slammed the door closed behind him, and John sped off into the night.

At Aurelie’s house, the three of them busied about locking the doors and windows and pulling every curtain shut. When the house was as secure as it could possibly be, Chris and John, unintentionally, both pulled out their guns to make sure the safety was off and there was already a bullet in the chamber, ready to be fired. Aurelie disappeared momentarily and came back with a small handgun of her own. The two men stared at her.

“What? Even as distanced as I am from my family, I figured a little protection never hurt, then I started dating Johnny and --”

“You started what?” Chris interrupted.

Aurelie licked her lips and exchanged a glance with John. “I should have told you sooner, but that night I asked you about John -- he had come into the hospital to be treated. He came back a few nights later, to ask me out.”

Chris turned to John, putting a gun in the other man’s face. “Did you know she was my sister?”

“Not at first,” John replied, shaking his head and remaining calm. “But she told me really early on, and by then, man, I was already gone.”

Dropping the gun, Chris turned back to his sister. He set his weapon on the table and shook his head.

“The hell are you thinking, Aurelie? Do you know how much danger you’ve put yourself in?” He stepped toe-to-toe with her. John stepped up too, but Aurelie gave him a low wave -- a motion to stand down.

“Not any more danger than I am being your sister, Chris. We’ve only been out in Boston together a few times and when that seemed too sketchy, we started only being out together in Attleboro. Other than that, we’re here or at John’s.”

Chris was too angry; without thinking, he took her by the shoulders and asked if she had truly given this any thought at all. “He’s probably only after you to get to me! But I’m sure that never occurred to you. You know some things, but you don’t know all of them. You’ve been distanced long enough ...”

The longer Chris spoke, the harder his grip on Aurelie became. He shook her, emphasizing his words, ignoring her attempts to wrench out of his hold. When he finally had pushed things far enough to push her against a wall, John had enough. He pulled Chris away from Aurelie and shoved the other man across the room.

“Are you all right?” John asked softly, turning his back to Chris. He had no desire to fight that man or pursue further any sort of violence between the two of them. He only wanted Aurelie safe.

Chris took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, knowing that he had crossed a line. When he turned to apologize to Aurelie, he noted the gentle way John caressed his sister’s face with one hand, and sprawled the fingers of the other over her abdomen.

“Aurelie?”

She looked at John once more, then to Chris. The look on his face told her immediately what her brother suspected.

“I’m pregnant. Not far along, I just found out. Just told John earlier tonight, actually.”

John held tight to Aurelie’s hand. “I’m not with her because of you. I could honestly care less about all of that shit anymore. I’ve wanted things to change for a while, but now, I have to change them. For her, and for the baby.”

Chris stared at both of them for a long time before shaking his head. “Thanks for the ride. I’ve gotta go.”

“Chris, wait!” Aurelie yelled after him, slipping in front of him at the door. “It isn’t safe out there for you! I’ll remind you, this is how we all ended up back here in the first place.”

Chris sidestepped around her, making it out to the front stoop. “I’ll figure it out,” he yelled over his shoulder, then slammed the door behind him.

AlloftheThings: @captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin@horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved@fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl

Boston Boys: @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @becs-bunker @shield-agent78 @patzammit @crazyandanonymous4u@ntlmundy @jennmurawski13 @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too

#marvelfluffbingo2020 #chris evans #john krasinski #crossover #fanfiction #criminal!au #queue and i remember budapest very differently

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blainederson · 3 years

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A Night to Remember (Seblaine)

Who: Sebastian Smythe (@sarcasticsmythe) and Blaine Anderson Verse: Frozen Candle Location: Lima, Ohio Summary: Seblaine go out to drink at Scandals after Blaine is dumped by his boyfriend, Trent. After drinking a little too much and going back to Sebastian’s house, the two get frisky and sleep with one another in a drunken haze. The following day, they agree this was a huge mistake since they have been such good friends and have never crossed that line before.

NSFW - Sex

Sebastian Smythe:

After getting the green light from his best friend, Sebastian was more than just a little excited that they’d be going out to Scandals together for a night of drinking. They didn’t go all too often-- especially whenever Blaine was tied down by someone. Blaine was kind of a simp whenever he was in a relationship and Sebastian hated seeing his friend bending over backwards for someone who didn’t care for him as much as he knew Blaine did for them. Alas, Blaine was single once more and that meant more days and nights together where they could hang out again. Sebastian was never the type for relationships so he and Blaine always meshed a little better when the latter was single, too.

Sebastian pulled up to the driveway of Blaine’s place, sending his friend a text before getting out of the car and leaning against the side to wait for him. He knew that Blaine’s parents were fogeys when it came to underaged drinking so they weren’t privy to their nighttime antics.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine knew that drinking wasn’t the answer to life’s problems, but he did always feel better when he was out with Sebastian. The hangover the next day would be bad, but it was a small price to pay for a night of fun and forgetting yet another heartbreak. He could always count on Sebastian to lift his spirits and make him feel better, and it was nice. He liked having a consistent friend that he could lean on whenever he needed someone.

He was just finishing up on his hair when his phone lit up on the counter, signaling Sebastian was there. He grabbed his overnight bag, said a quick goodbye to his parents, and he was off. A smile tugged at his face when he saw his friend waiting for him outside. “Hey you,” he said, walking past Sebastian to throw his bag in the backseat before giving Seb a once over. “You look nice, you don’t plan on ditching me tonight and finding someone else to spend the night with, do you?” He joked.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked as he shamelessly checked out his friend in his cute, tight-fitting outfit. Blaine always cleaned up well and it’d be a loss for Sebastian to overlook that fact. “You’re one to talk, big guy. You look like you’re dressed to go out on the prowl with that get-up,” he noted the way Blaine’s chinos hugged his ass just right, though didn’t care to specify out loud to his friend. “But I’m all yours tonight, B. There’s a throng of boys out there waiting to bed me but tonight it’s all about you.”

With the chivalry Sebastian knew Blaine appreciated, the former opened the passenger door for Blaine to get in before rounding the vehicle and setting way for their favorite little bar. Scandals was a slightly run-down gay bar but the people there were usually nice and the staff even nicer. Even with their phony fake ID’s, the two were never turned away because the owner knew that Scandals was sometimes the only safe haven for the young teenage gay in their podunk little town.

Blaine Anderson:

“Please, I am definitely not on the prowl for anything.” Blaine let out a chuckle as he took his seat in Sebastian’s car, thanking him for opening his door. Sebastian’s chivalrous ways were never lost on Blaine. “Well, I’m just so flattered that you’d sacrifice having a boy in your bed to have me in the guest room.” Blaine shook his head, looking fondly over at his friend as he settled in the car for the short drive over to the bar.

Letting out a soft sigh, Blaine rubbed at his face gently. “I’m looking forward to just...spending the night with you and letting loose a little.” He nodded. “I feel like it’s something I really need. Since I’ve been with Trent we really haven’t spent that much time together.” Blaine observed, giving a little shrug. As they arrived at the bar, Blaine didn’t wait for Sebastian to open his door to get out, meeting the taller around the front of the car, slipping his arm through Sebastian’s. “First round is on you, right?” He grinned.

Sebastian Smythe:

Letting loose with a few dozen rounds of drinks with Blaine sounded like Sebastian’s ideal night. They would leave Blaine’s stupid ex in the dust as they drank him into oblivion. As they made their way to the front doors of Scandals, Sebastian wore a wide grin across his face. “Oh, but of course,” Sebastian nodded, already having it in his mind to pay the tab for tonight’s drinks.

They handed their fake ID’s to the bouncer, who greeted both of them with a mirthless smile as he let them through. The music was loud and there was a throng of bodies strung across the dance floor jumping up and down to the beat. Grinding up on the dance floor against a tipsy Blaine sounded like a great idea, but Sebastian wanted to make sure they were hydrated first. The two made a beeline for the bar and Sebastian waved the bartender down, greeting him by name before ordering their first round of drinks. When their drinks were served, Sebastian held up his glass to Blaine’s, for a toast. “To best friends,” he smirked.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine settled onto one of the stools at the bar as he took his drink, smiling at Sebastian as they clinked their glasses together. “To the best, best friends.” He scrunched his nose before taking a generous drink, letting out a breath as the alcohol warmed him from the inside out. He reached over to pick a few bites out of the shared bowl of nuts on the bar, popping them in his mouth. He was feeling okay so far, he knew he’d probably hit a wall of sadness at some point and wallow for a bit before he’d be good again and having fun.

“Mmm- okay, so a couple of drinks, then we hit the dance floor and show all of the old fogeys how it’s done, yeah?” Blaine nodded towards the dance floor as he took another drink. “You are my favorite dance partner, after all, co-captain.” He nudged Sebastian gently, knowing that those words got under Sebastian’s skin. Sebastian liked to think of himself as the head Warbler and Blaine his inferior but in reality they were equals. Blaine loved reminding him that they were equals, it was funny to watch him get worked up.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian took a swig of his own drink, relishing the burning aftertaste. “Ah, yes, my trusty sidekick: The Co-Captain,” he phrased it in such a way that made him seem like he was the star superhero. He puffed out his chest as he started his next sentence. “The Robin to my Superman-- the Barnacle Boy to my Mermaid Man,” Sebastian laughed at his own jokes before he took another sip.

In reality, Sebastian would probably throw more of a fit if he had to share the title with literally anyone else. Although he would’ve preferred being the sole head of the Warblers, he was glad that Blaine was the one running the team with him. “For the record, you’re my favorite dance partner, too. Doing a duet together is our best bet to winning at Regionals. This is the year we finally get to Nationals, or I’m going to die trying.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine let out a musical laugh as Sebastian puffed out like a peacock. “Of course it is,” He agreed with Sebastian’s sentiment of them duetting being their best chance. “It’s imperative that we duet so we can win. I’m not losing to that Jesse St. James guy ever again.” He rolled his eyes, grimacing at the thought. “And you’re ridiculous if you think I’m a sidekick. I’m no one’s sidekick.” He sipped his drink. “If anything - if there was a head Warbler we all know it would be me.” Blaine raised his eyebrows as he looked to Sebastian, there was a beat and his face fell to a look of confusion. “Wait- what? Superman doesn’t have a sidekick. Robin is Batman’s sidekick. What in the world- where are you from?” He asked, shaking his head as his forehead wrinkled.

Blaine looked past Sebastian to the bartender, pointing at his almost empty glass, with a thankful crinkle of his nose. “I know it hurts your giant ego but it'll make the trip to Nationals much smoother if you’d just get off your high horse and admit that if not for me, you’d have nothing.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian smiled to himself when Blaine caught that he’d paired Superman with Batman’s sidekick; Blaine was too much of a nerd to let something like that go without correcting him, and Sebastian thought that was cute. “Puh-leeze,” Sebastian rolled his eyes with a chuckle as the ice in his otherwise empty glass shifted when he placed it down on the bartop. “I’ll admit that you’re an incredible asset with an incredible ass, but we all know I have the looks and the dance moves to rock the pants off of every guy and girl in the audience-- literally.”

Soon both boys’ empty glasses were refilled. “But having you on the team and in the spotlight guarantees our trip to Nationals. You make my job a lot easier by being the talented dreamboat that you are.” Liquor made the compliments flow with ease, which wasn’t ever necessary but with what little inhibitions Sebastian had lowered, they seemed to come one right after another. “C’mon, any idiot can see how amazing you are,” he complimented again as he leaned closer into Blaine’s personal space. With a sly grin, he continued in a lower voice, “Almost as amazing as me, even.” Sebastian laughed at his own comment as he pulled back to take another sip of his drink.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine leaned against the bar a little as he sipped his drink, a cheesy grin pulling at his lips as Sebastian complimented him. It was never unusual to have Sebastian complimenting him, flirting was Sebastian’s constant state of being after all. He never really thought anything of it- they were friends. They’d been friends for so long it seemed, and of course the thought of the two of them together had danced around his head every so often, but Blaine couldn’t bear to lose Sebastian’s friendship. He was the best friend he’d ever had.

With a low chuckle, Blaine placed his drink on the bar, fiddling with the glass a little. “You, uh, do know that flirting with me will absolutely-” He turned to face the other as his space was invaded, it wasn’t uncomfortable even if the closeness made his heartbeat a little quicker. He wasn’t noticeably phased. “-not make me admit that you’re my superior on the Warblers. I’ll let that ‘almost amazing as me’ slide because we both know in a sing-off, I would win.” Blaine winked.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian appreciated that even though he and Blaine were entirely different creatures-- Blaine was polite, charming, and kind of a goody-two-shoes, whilst Sebastian was crass, rude, and kind of an asshole-- that the two of them had a repartee that Sebastian hadn’t yet found anywhere else. Blaine was witty without being mean, which was a stark difference from Sebastian’s usual default. “Oh, I wouldn’t dare challenge you in a sing-off, Blaine Anderson… We both know your perfect record couldn’t handle that loss.” With nearly two drinks in his system, Sebastian could feel a slight buzz working in his system that he only wanted to feed. He always felt at his happiest when he was drunk or when he was with Blaine, and right now he had both right at his fingertips. “Now if we’re talking about a dance-off, I think that could be a competition for the ages. Some would say we’re evenly matched but…” his line of sight wandered from Blaine over to the relatively-empty dance floor. He downed the rest of his drink and hopped out of his seat, motioning for Blaine to follow.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine followed Sebastian’s line of sight to the dance floor, finishing off the rest of his second drink as he let out a gentle laugh. “I would admit to us being evenly matched in the area of dance.” he said, taking Sebastian’s hand and spinning himself once as they made it to the middle of the floor. “But I would never admit to you winning a sing-off.” He said just loud enough for Sebastian to hear as his body automatically started grooving to whatever song was playing through the bar’s speakers.

“You’re very talented, Seb. You’re my other half-- my best duet partner-- no one else could hold their own with me. I may be outwardly humble to most but I’m well aware of my talent, sir.” He chuckled, pulling Sebastian closer to him to dance. “I would win that sing-off and we both know it.” He whispered, his face close to Sebastian’s so he could hear him over the music.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian grinned from ear to ear as Blaine paid compliments his way, boosting his already inflated ego. He was already matching the tempo of the other boy’s movements as the music flowed all around them. A thrill tingled down his spine as Blaine whispered in his ear, and he liked it. As their bodies seemed to get closer and closer to each other, Sebastian put a hand around Blaine’s waist and their hips were practically touching as they continued to groove to the beat. They seemed to dance together effortlessly, as if they were both on the same wavelength, reading each other's minds.

“We’re both extremely talented… even now, all eyes are on us, B.” Sebastian spoke into the shorter man’s ear so he could be heard over the music. It was true-- seemingly almost everyone in the club was looking at the pair. Although it was uncertain if the other patrons watching did so out of jealousy or checking them out, Blaine and Sebastian were the center of attention. Even though Blaine had teased him about winning this fictional sing-off, Sebastian couldn’t seem to bring himself to care much about that right now. All he cared about was that Blaine was in his arms and they were having the time of their lives there on the dance floor of Scandals.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine glanced around the room as he melted a little into Sebastian’s embrace, feeling the comfort of their closeness mix with the alcohol to warm his body all the way up to his cheeks, flushing them a gentle red. “Mmm, I think they’re definitely looking at you wondering who on earth you’re dancing with. They want their chance with you.” He placed a hand on Sebastian’s chest. “I feel bad for them, really. Usually when you walk in it’s like a sigh of relief to all of the lonely boys- someone handsome to fight over is fun for them.”

Slipping his arms up around Sebastian’s neck, he looked up at him as the song morphed into something a bit slower. “You’re off the table today, they’re definitely jealous.” He smiled, sighing softly after a beat. “I really appreciate you taking me out, Seb. I feel better than I did earlier-- not a lot better, but definitely better.” He glanced down at the taller’s chest, shrugging one of his shoulders. “I-being broken up with again is a bit of a downer.” He chuckled a little sadly.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian was no stranger to physical intimacy and when Blaine’s hand was placed on his chest, it felt like an intense warmth was seeping through the material of Sebastian’s shirt. He laughed quietly when Blaine talked about how all the lonely boys wanted him. As Blaine’s arms came up to wrap around the back of his neck, Sebastian’s circled his arms around Blaine’s waist. In this positioning, their height difference was highlighted and it almost felt like Sebastian was protecting Blaine whilst in his hold.

“You know I’m always going to be here to cheer you up, or get drunk with you, or even beat up whatever asshole breaks your heart… if you’d actually let me,” he chuckled along as he leaned his forehead against Blaine’s. “I don’t think any of those assholes at school are good enough for you but one day you’re going to find a decent-looking, vaguely-talented guy who finally recognizes what he’s got in front of him and do his best to not fuck it up.” Sebastian took a beat as he stared down, admiring the color of Blaine’s eyes. They were like gold filigree in starlight and if he started for too long, he’d get lost in them. His voice was quiet as he all but whispered his next words, “You’re a special guy, Blaine. You deserve someone special.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine felt considerably warmer the more that Sebastian spoke to him and the closer that they danced. As he looked up into Sebastian’s eyes he shook his head bashfully. Sebastian was always the best at making him feel better and good about himself. But with his track record of dating it was getting harder and harder to believe him when he spoke such things. “Oh, c’mon, I’m not really that special. There’s clearly something wrong with me if I keep getting dumped.” His forehead wrinkled as he dipped his toes into the beginning of his pity party- he knew it had been coming all day, but between the alcohol he’d already had and Sebastian’s words it was beginning already.

With a heavy sigh, his feet stopped swaying to the music and he looked at Sebastian’s chest again. “Sometimes it feels like I’m never going to be enough for anyone.” He said honestly.

Sebastian Smythe:

Even though Sebastian knew it was but a matter of time before Blaine started on the disparaging comments about himself-- it always happened after a break-up-- this time it felt particularly bad. Sebastian hated seeing Blaine get so down on himself and basically blaming himself for whatever Trent’s deal was and their break-up. “Hey,” he tried to speak in a stern tone so the sincerity in his voice wouldn’t be misconstrued, “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with you. You can’t help it that no one can match up to your level. You’re smart, talented, and a hell of a performer. You can out-sing and out-dance anyone in the Warblers and if anything, you’re so much that anyone with a masculinity as fragile as Trent’s wouldn’t be able to be with you without feeling threatened.”

Sebastian let out a little breath of air after his mini-tirade, and looked at Blaine’s facial features, attempting to get a read on what his friend was thinking or feeling. “You’re more than enough, Blaine.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine didn’t take his eyes off Sebastian as he spoke, his heart skipping a beat when Sebastian told him he was more than enough. It was funny that out of all the people he’d ever been friends with, or dated, or met in general, Sebastian was the only one who could ever manage to make him feel worthy enough of anything. The mixture of the buzz he had going on from the strength of those first two drinks he had and the feeling of warmth from Sebastian’s words made him feel even more vulnerable than he was already feeling.

Sebastian was so sweet to him and it meant so much because Sebastian wasn’t sweet to anyone else and it didn’t go unnoticed that Blaine was the exception to all of his rules. He let his fingertips graze the back of Sebastian’s neck and before he knew it he was melting into Sebastian’s hold and pressing their lips together in a soft, needy kiss. It wasn’t the first time kissing Sebastian had crossed his mind but it was the very first time he acted on his impulse.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian kissed back instinctively, his head emptying itself as soon as Blaine’s lips touched his own. He reciprocated with ease, almost as though the feeling had been right all along. Blaine’s lips were soft and even with the alcohol taste, it was somehow still sweet. He could feel the slight urgency behind the way Blaine kissed him and it took him a few seconds to snap himself out of it and pull himself away from what was arguably the best kiss of his life. “Uh, sorry, I shouldn’t-- I mean,” Sebastian began to supply an excuse, but came up short. He was a little breathless in the way he spoke and his heart was beating so loud he swear he could feel the vein in his neck throbbing. Truth be told, he wanted to keep going, but he wasn’t going to take advantage of his best friend when he was in such a fragile state. “Listen, why don’t we both cool off a bit with another drink?”

Copping out by going to the bar for another drink felt really awkward but Sebastian forced himself to wave down the bartender for two fresh drinks. His mind was reeling at what had just happened, but he knew it was only because Blaine had just been dumped and he was tipsy. He diverted his attention to his drink, taking long sips as he mentally told himself Blaine probably would’ve been kissing any cute guy who was being nice to him.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine was breathless when Sebastian pulled back from their kiss, his head foggy, pulse pounding. Shaking his head to attempt to clear the fog, Blaine just laughed nervously. “R-right, we definitely shouldn’t- I’m sorry.” He blushed, his face burning red with the feeling of embarrassment. He gladly accepted the distraction of another drink to give him a minute to process what he’d just done.

As he continuously swallowed down his drink, he also toyed with the thought that he would’ve kissed literally anyone who would’ve been nice to him in that moment but something in the back of his mind reminded him that nice words meant nothing when they had nothing behind them. It was because it was Sebastian saying them that he kissed him. Glancing over to his best friend, he felt the impulse again as his eyes wandered down his face. He wanted to do it again. He partially felt like an idiot because he knew they were just friends, as he’d talked himself out of it many times. He and Sebastian wouldn’t work as anything else, and being intimate would just ruin their friendship. Setting down his now-empty glass, Blaine straightened up on the bar stool, trying to rid the thoughts from his mind but there was an obvious wall of tension bubbling up between them. The sweat on his palms and the fire under his skin was definitely not just from the alcohol.

Somehow Blaine managed to get another refill and it was empty once again before he spoke another word, afraid of what he might say as his thoughts became a little cloudier with every sip of alcohol. He glanced over at Sebastian once again, the urge to kiss him again was stronger than moments before. It has just felt so damn good, unlike anyone he’s ever kissed before, he wanted to feel it again. “I-I think i probably shouldn’t drink anymore.” He said, letting out a soft giggle as he went to stand up from the bar stool, bracing himself on the bar so he wouldn’t have the chance to stumble.

Sebastian Smythe:

As the two of them had become quiet compared to earlier in the night, Sebastian was alone in his thoughts as his mind ventured back to the way Blaine’s lips tasted and felt. If Blaine had been a different person-- someone who wasn’t a dear friend who believed in committed relationships-- they would be in a much different situation right now. With their drinks refilled and emptied once more, Sebastian was definitely feeling much more drunk than before and he had a fleeting thought that maybe drinking even more after kissing wasn’t the best idea. Unfortunately, it was too late to go in time to undo anything.

Sebastian watched the way Blaine stood up from the bar and it was clear he was more than just a little drunk. “Lightweight,” he teased, pulling out his phone to get a Lyft sent to them. He waved the bartender for one last drink, figuring it wouldn’t hurt since he was already drunk and wouldn’t be driving anyways. “We’ll get you all tucked in bed tonight so you’ll be well rested for McDonald’s tomorrow-- chicken nuggets and those crack-laced fries you love so much.” Sebastian wrapped an arm around Blaine’s waist to keep him steady, this time being a little more aware to keep his lips away from Blaine’s. In his mind he just had to not kiss him, and they’d be golden. Kissing was off-limits.

“C’mon, some cool air will make you feel better,” he asserted after he’d paid off the tab with his credit card before walking practically hip-to-hip with Blaine out the door to wait for their ride.

Blaine Anderson:

“Shh,” Blaine giggled when Sebastian called him a lightweight. He leaned into Sebastian’s hold easily, the feeling of their bodies close to one another not helping the tension Blaine was feeling. He somehow only felt hotter as they stepped out into the chilly night air, the alcohol from his last drink catching up to the rest. “Mmm, McDonald’s. I love that you know me so well.” He said, looking up at Sebastian as they waited for their ride. “You’re my best friend, you know.” Blaine turned into Sebastian just a little, not making it easy on himself to not kiss Sebastian again, he glanced at the taller’s lips and swallowed.

Before he could give in to his impulses again, their Lyft pulled up, causing Sebastian’s phone to chime to alert that it was there. Clearing his throat, Blaine nodded towards the car with the pink sticker. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.” He took his hand to tug him towards the car, pausing only for a moment to look back at Sebastian, barely tripping over his shoe as he stepped off the sidewalk. “I mean, sleep, not necessarily let’s go to bed.” He chuckled nervously, the blush on his cheeks noticeable even in the faint glow of the parking lot lights.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian followed Blaine’s lead, trying his best to stay mostly upright as they somehow stumbled their way into the car. With Blaine’s face flushed red, Sebastian assumed that they must’ve drank a little too much. They sat practically cuddled together in the backseat, both leaning against each other. Sebastian’s hand trailed its way up and down Blaine’s bare arms, almost as if it had a mind of its own. Blaine’s skin was so soft and warm and feeling him just made Sebastian want to get even closer. “Bed and then McDonald’s in the morning,” Sebastian reiterated, feeling the urge to close the gap between them and kiss him again. It was all he could think about-- Blaine was right there in front of him, like low-hanging fruit. Delicious, deletable fruit.

It was only when they arrived at the Smythe house did Sebastian break himself out of Blaine’s spell. After exchanging pleasantries with the driver and leaving, Sebastian all but pulled his friend out of the car, holding him close as they clumsily made their way to the front door. “C’mon, I’ll make sure we get to bed,” he mumbled after struggling to open the door and close it quietly behind them. Sebastian did his best to lead the way but somewhere along the way he must’ve forgotten he was supposed to lead Blaine to the guest room because they ended up in his bedroom instead. “Bed,” Sebastian motioned as he continued to lead the way and sat heavily into the plush comforter of his bed, bringing Blaine right along with him.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine was never one to shy away from affection but in his drunken haze he was always more affectionate and it felt good to be cuddled with Sebastian in the backseat of the Lyft. Sebastian’s fingertips left a trail of chills behind as they caressed his arms, it felt really good. He made sure to stay close to Sebastian as they stumbled into the Smythe household. When Sebastian tugged Blaine into the bed with him, the shorter let out a soft giggle. The entire way home all Blaine had been thinking about was the kiss and how his lips were still on fire. Looking at Sebastian, he ran his fingers through the taller’s hair, letting his hand trail down his face to brush his thumb over his cheek. “Seb,” he leaned in a little closer, whispering as if there were people in the room. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Before he even got a response he moved to stand up again, kicking off his shoes and tugging at the bowtie around his neck, tossing it aside. His body felt like it was on fire and he could burst into flames. Pulling his shirt up to untuck it, he stumbled a little.

Sebastian Smythe:

“A secret?” Sebastian parroted, watching in a haze as Blaine pulled back and began to get undressed. “You can always tell me anything, B,” he said honestly, his fingers moving to undo the first few buttons of his own shirt. “You know the only person I blab secrets to is you.”

As Blaine stumbled and struggled with undressing himself, Sebastian leaned forward to volunteer his assistance. He completely untucked Blaine’s shirt with a forceful tug, grabbing next to undo Blaine’s belt. Sebastian wanted his guest to be comfortable when he slept, after all. He chuckled a little to himself as he threw all caution to the wind. Any concern for the state of his and Blaine’s platonic friendship went completely out the window as soon as Sebastian caught a glance of the other boy’s midriff.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine grinned as Sebastian helped him to undress, biting on his lip as he was tugged closer as the other undid his belt. The way his best friend assured him that the only person he tells secrets to is him, made Blaine feel that same special feeling he’d felt at the bar when he kissed Sebastian. He secretly loved being Sebastian’s exception, even if it wasn’t so secret on this particular night. After fumbling over a few buttons on his shirt, Blaine stepped closer to Sebastian, with the taller on the bed their height difference was perfect in that moment. Blaine took a breath and glanced at Sebastian’s lips. “I really want to kiss you again,” he confessed, before doing just that.

His fingers curled around the fabric of Sebastian’s shirt as he captured his lips in another needy kiss. Blaine was drowning in the feeling that came with kissing Sebastian, the soft sparks he could feel popping underneath his lips, spreading all throughout his body. The alcohol he’d consumed was the least intoxicating thing compared to that moment and he wanted more. More of Sebastian, more of that feeling. Pressing his body against Sebastian’s, Blaine cupped the taller’s face, before the kiss came to an end so he could catch his shuddering breath briefly. His eyes fluttered open, not moving his hands from Sebastian’s face, he attempted to assess Sebastian’s reaction through his clouded judgment.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian hadn’t been expecting Blaine to be so bold yet again but when he heard those words and watched as Blaine’s eyes darted down to look at his lips, he had no intention of putting a stop to it this time. When Blaine kissed him, Sebastian kissed back with fervor and desire. It felt like every fiber of his being wanted this and any and all doubt was nowhere to be found. Sebastian’s fingers curled into the fabric of Blaine’s shirt before snaking underneath where he could simply feel the bare skin of his torso.

When Blaine pulled away ever so slightly, Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open-- he hadn’t even known he’d closed them-- and he stared up and found himself lost in those gorgeous eyes once again. “More,” Sebastian whispered, all but lunging forward to bring Blaine in for another kiss. He was hungry, practically starving for Blaine. His body buzzing as if telling him over and over again: more, more, more!

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine’s body shuddered when Sebastian whispered more, a soft noise escaping him as their lips were reconnected in another kiss. Waves of electricity shot through Blaine’s entire being as he kissed Sebastian eagerly. His hands roamed freeling over Sebastian’s frame, tugging and pulling at the rest of the buttons on his shirt, pushing at it so it fell from his shoulders. Blaine’s fingertips grazed over the other’s bare chest. He shared the same sentiment as Sebastian’s earlier statement with a whiny “More” against Sebastian’s lips as he moved to straddle the taller’s lap.

His heart was pounding against his chest, his pulse thumping loudly in his ears. He had never let himself realize how badly he wanted Sebastian until that moment. It would be a regret in the morning that they had crossed the line of their friendship but right then and there he couldn’t have cared any less. “Want you, Sebastian.” He breathed against Sebastian’s mouth, whimpering softly. “Need you.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Unable to pull back on the proverbial reins any longer, Sebastian rushed to get Blaine as naked as possible as quickly as possible. With Blaine straddling him and kissing him feverishly, Sebastian blindly pulled Blaine’s shirt off of him, leaving his entire upper body bare. Sebastian’s hands felt all over, making themselves familiar with Blaine’s body. His fingertips just barely grazed over the other boy’s nipple and Sebastian’s couldn’t help the smile forming across his face even as he continued to move his lips against Blaine’s. Until today, touching Blaine like this only seemed like a fantasy.

Hearing Blaine’s needy voice, whimpering for him with wanton desire had blood shooting directly to Sebastian’s cock, a hard erection forming a tent in his slacks. “B, what you do to me,” he murmured against Blaine’s lips as he undid his slacks and tugged down his underwear to free his unflagging erection. He’d never exposed himself to Blaine like this but he didn’t feel like anything was amiss. If anything, in that moment he wondered why they hadn’t done this sooner.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine did his best to not break their kisses unless he absolutely had to as the two worked around each other to rid themselves of clothing until they were completely naked with one another, the feeling was invigorating and Blaine shared the same sentiment of why haven’t we done this before. The reality of the answer to that particular question would be lost on him until morning came and they were alone with sober thoughts and memories of the night. It hadn’t even dawned on Blaine properly that Sebastian returned Blaine’s advances just as eagerly- clearly Sebastian had these thoughts swirling around the back of his mind as well.

The way Sebastian touched him and kissed him, the words that were uttered into the dark room, it all made Blaine feel wanted. Wanted and desirable. It was addicting and he wanted more. During the moments they were finally shedding the last articles of clothing, Blaine had managed to pin Sebastian between his small body and the bed below them. “Mm, you make me feel so good.” Blaine hummed as he ran his hands down Sebastian’s body. The feeling of their naked skin touching caused a shiver to run up Blaine’s spine as he moved his kisses to trail along the other’s jawline, peppering kisses along the freckle trail down his neck.

Sebastian Smythe:

The moment Sebastian was pinned between the bed and one Blaine Anderson hovering above him, he felt that Blaine could literally do anything he wanted with him. Blaine was small, but the guy was strong-- especially for his size. Sebastian lifted his head to give Blaine better access to his neck, the faint hairs along his body all standing at attention. The way each kiss left behind a tingle that seeped from the surface of his skin all the way down to the core put a smile on Sebastian’s face. Blaine was giving him chills in the best way possible. “Speak for yourself,” Sebastian quipped as his body arched into Blaine’s touch. He was beginning to feel desperate and that Blaine was teasing him.

“How do you want me, baby?” he asked, the pet name coming out naturally as he looked at Blaine. He ran his hands down along Blaine’s back, just wanting to feel as much of him as possible. “Tonight I’m all yours.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine grinned at Sebastian’s words, continuing to leave a trail of kisses down his neck and chest before coming back up to capture his lips in another kiss, allowing his hips to grind down gently so their erections brushed together. “Mmm,” He hummed, his body aching for more friction, more Sebastian. There was a part of Blaine, even if sober he didn’t admit out loud, that had always fantasized about having sex with Sebastian. Some lonely nights under his covers he’d think about being underneath his best friend until he was panting alone in his room.

With that thought in mind, Blaine managed to smoothly flip them over so he was now pinned between the bed and Sebastian, placing his hands on the back of Sebastian’s neck to bring him down for a desperate kiss. “Want you to take control, wanna be yours for the night.” He mumbled against his mouth, letting one of his legs hook onto Sebastian’s hips as he pushed his hips upwards. He let out a soft groan as his body trembled with anticipation of what was to come.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian gladly obliged when Blaine shifted them on the bed. He continued to kiss him, grinding his hips down as their erections rubbed against one another. Having been given the reins, Sebastian was ready to jump into action. He was especially experienced and knew it was well within his capabilities to rock Blaine’s world. He already knew none of the guys Blaine had ever been with was anywhere near his level.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna take care of you so well,” he boasted, pulling away for just a moment to procure a small bottle of lube from his nightstand. He took a moment to run his hand down Blaine’s body, gently feeling the dips and curves of his torso and committing the feeling to memory. “Do you even know how gorgeous you are right now? Like this?” Sebastian asked as he squirted some of the lube into his hand and slicked himself up. He used what excess lube that was on his hand to circle the tight entrance of Blaine’s ass. “Perfect and ready-- just for me?”

It took only another moment before Sebastian was lining up his stiff cock with Blaine’s ass, maintaining eye contact before delving in with one swift movement. With his mouth falling slack, a broken moan followed by a shudder fell from his lips as he was very quickly surrounded by the tight, intensely hot feeling of Blaine.

Blaine Anderson:

All of the pet names falling from Sebastian’s lips only fueled the already burning fire inside of Blaine’s body as he looked up at his lover, biting down on his lip as he waited with bated breath for Sebastian. “Just for you,” he whispered. He liked the way Sebastian spoke to him, he wondered briefly if that was how he spoke to his other sexual partners. With his leg spread and Sebastian’s pushing into him, Blaine’s eyes fell closed as his forehead wrinkled with the welcome feeling of being full. Blaine wasn’t inexperienced by any means, he definitely enjoyed the feeling of bottoming but with Sebastian, it felt different. A soft groan escaped from his mouth as it fell open ever so slightly.

Digging one of his heels into the bed below, he moved his other leg higher up on Sebastian’s hip. “Seb,” he groaned once again. “Feels really good.” He whined, moving his hips down a little, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not a virgin, don’t go easy on me.” He slid his hand down his own body to wrap his hand around his erection.

Sebastian Smythe:

“Yeah?” Sebastian chuckled softly, his fingers pressing into Blaine’s thigh as he gripped to steady himself. “I won’t hold back, then.” With that, Sebastian slowly dragged his cock out of Blaine, letting his entire length feel every little squeeze before roughly shoving himself back in, all the way to the hilt. He did it again, then again, each time entering Blaine better than the last, until he had formed a steady rhythm.

Sebastian looked down at Blaine laying there on his bed. He could feel the haze in his brain from all the alcohol he had consumed but it was as if he had tunnel-vision through the fog and Blaine came through, bright and clear. Even in the darkened room with just the light from the street lamps streaming in through the heavy blinds, Blaine was his sole focus. He watched his best friend’s every reaction to his moments, wanting to be sure he was feeling good. The way Blaine’s brows wrinkled up when he whined, or how his soft lips parted as his body opened itself for him, little by little.

Blaine Anderson:

As Sebastian found his rhythm, Blaine let go of his erection to grip onto the sheets below. With every movement Sebastian managed to hit the right spot every time, increasing Blaine’s feeling of pleasure with every thrust. He let out a series of uncontrollable sounds that would convey how good he felt, not able to string any actual words together.

His forehead glistened as sweat began to bead up along his wrinkled brow, feeling as if any moment he could quite literally burst into flames and burn right through the sheets of Sebastian’s bed. “God,” he managed to moan through gritted teeth. “Sebastian- yes baby, yes-” The volume of Blaine’s voice increased with every word he whined, moving his body ever so slightly in tune with Sebastian’s.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian let out a soft sound of approval, the sound of skin slapping against skin seemingly echoing throughout the room. It felt like a heat was coiling itself in the pit of his stomach that could come undone at any given moment. “You feel so fucking good,” he said through gritted teeth. “Wanna make you feel good, too.” Sebastian reached down, wrapping his slippery fingers around Blaine’s hard cock and began stroking up and down.

Sharp, little breaths of air came out of Sebastian’s mouth as the rhythm of his hips picked up speed. He hit hard and deep, his ego inflating just a bit every time he hit Blaine’s sweet spot. The feeling was almost too much, too fast. “B, I’m not gonna last much longer,” he warned, almost embarrassed that he couldn’t hold out, but Blaine just felt too good.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine was extremely impressed with Sebastian’s skill of being able to hit the right spot with every single movement he made, causing Blaine’s tiny frame to tremble as he got closer and closer to his own orgasm. His breath caught in his throat when he felt the other’s hand around his throbbing erection, a guttural moan crawling from the depths of his throat. “Oh god.” Blaine didn’t think anything of the fact that Sebastian was already losing it so quickly, he was toeing the line himself. It was too good, he was too overwhelmed, and he was drunk.

Blaine’s eyes rolled back and his back arched as he attempted to shake his head. “So good, so good Sebastian. Please.” He babbled, followed by a string of profanities as his knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets. He called out Sebastian’s name as his entire body felt like it was exploding and he tripped over the edge of his orgasm, painting his own stomach with stripes of white.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian’s erratic movements went into overdrive as Blaine called out for him. When Blaine finally let go, Sebastian let out a little gasp at the sight before him. With ropes of Blaine’s come spilling over onto his toned body, the burning coil in the pit of Sebastian’s stomach finally came undone and he let loose what felt like everything he had. He had finally chased his orgasm off the cliff and came hot and heavy into Blaine with a shout. He rode his high until he had become flaccid, his hot come dripping out of Blaine’s ass and spilling onto the sheets under them. “Fuck…” he whispered, his voice shuddering with his unsteady breath.

Very carefully, Sebastian eased himself up and off of Blaine before plopping himself down onto the bed. He was still trying to catch his breath as he searched with his hand for Blaine’s. Once he found it, he wrapped his fingers around and gave it a little squeeze. “You just rocked my world, B,” he said as he turned his head to look at Blaine’s profile. He was still a bit drunk and coming had only made his thoughts cloudier.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine didn’t recognize his own voice as more profanities fell from his lips, his body shaking from his very core as he came until he couldn’t anymore, until he was too sensitive to touch. It was the first time he’d ever experienced the cliched fireworks when having sex with someone. His body trembled from the intensity of his orgasm, so much so he feared it might spontaneously combust.

As they both rested side by side, Blaine’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he tried his best to calm his heart rate. Giving Sebastian’s hand a squeeze right back, he turned his head and chuckled through his heavy pants. “Yeah? Well, right back at you.” He brought his free hand up to rub his face gently, shaking his head. “That was incredible.” Blaine whispered before moving to get closer to Sebastian, closing the space between them again. This neediness of Blaine’s kiss hadn’t subsided at all, but he did kiss Sebastian slower that time, relishing in the way their lips fit perfectly together.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian felt like he had just managed to catch his breath when suddenly Blaine was taking it away once again. Kissing Blaine back with ease, Sebastian relished in the alcohol mixed with sweet tastes. When their lips broke apart, neither one made a move away from each other and Sebastian lingered as he breathed in the scent of sweat, sex, alcohol, and notes of Blaine’s cologne. Aware that there was a quite a mess painted all over Blaine’s torso, Sebastian hazily grabbed at a portion of the blanket, doing his best to wipe it off. It probably would’ve been better if they showered but he was too tired and spent to care all that much. That was a problem for Tomorrow-Sebastian, not Now-Sebastian.

“You’re incredible,” Sebastian murmured as he closed his eyes, draping his arm over Blaine’s torso as he nuzzled against him. Whenever he had sex, Sebastian was never the type to cuddle with his lover but he didn’t see the problem tonight since Blaine was his friend. This was different, so cuddling was allowed-- at least, that was how he convinced himself in his head.

Blaine Anderson:

As Sebastian cuddled close to him, Blaine immediately let out a content hum. He slipped his arm around the taller and nuzzled their noses together before burrowing his face against the crook of Sebastian’s neck. He took a deep breath in to inhale the comforting scent of his very best friend. Completely oblivious to the complications he’d face in the morning when a sober mind woke up naked next to his best friend.

“Mm, you’re my favorite.” He exhaled against Sebastian’s next as he already began to succumb to sleep.

Sebastian Smythe:

It didn’t take but a few moments longer for Sebastian to drift off as well. However, what was a peaceful slumber was broken suddenly, when a noise outside woke him up with a start. Sebastian sat up suddenly, hissing as a pounding headache hit him like a freight train. “Fuck…” he groaned, massaging his eyes and the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It felt like he'd only rested for a few minutes judging from his headache, but the sun was already streaming through the window. He stumbled out of bed with his eyes still closed, just barely blinking them open to maneuver himself to the bathroom. After the night of drinking he’d just had, he felt like he needed to piss like a racehorse.

After doing his business and washing his hands, he splashed some water on his face to help him wake up. Judging from the amount of sunlight pouring into the room, it was already midday. He walked back into his room, rubbing his eyes and that’s when he saw Blaine, fast asleep in his bed. Suddenly, fuzzy memories came rushing back: drinks and grinding bodies on the dancefloor, kisses and needy hands roaming over naked bodies. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered to himself as he rushed over to pull on his boxers before kneeling on the bed and urgently waking Blaine up. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Sebastian said under his breath, his brain going a mile a minute as he tried to wrap his head around what happened. He needed Blaine awake for this.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine slept soundly and peacefully the entire night next to Sebastian, it was probably one of the best nights of sleep he’d had in a long while, even. That was until he was woken up by Sebastian shaking his arm and whispering to him, bringing his throbbing headache to the forefront of his mind. “Why with the shaking?” He whined, trying to turn over, trying his best to stay asleep and not fully wake up. But with Sebastian not stopping, it finally woke him up to realize that he was naked. Opening his eyes, his face scrunched in protest of the brightness in the room. “Wh-”

He moved slowly to sit up, looking at Sebastian as the nausea from his hangover started to settle in his stomach. “What’s?” He looked down and then over at his half-naked best friend. He was in Sebastian’s bed, naked- even hung over he could put the pieces together fairly quickly. “Oh-oh.” He looked up at Sebastian, clearly more awake than the few seconds prior. It was very clear that the two of them had not just slept in the same bed together. “Seb, why am I naked?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew it was a stupid question but he couldn’t form a proper sentence.

Sebastian Smythe:

“I’ll give you one guess,” Sebastian replied with a quip, his tone somewhere between stressed and frustrated. His head was throbbing and he knew he had effectively fucked up his relationship with Blaine. He looked around the floor of his room before picking up what he only guessed was Blaine’s underwear before tossing it to him. “I, uh-- I mean, we were both clearly drunk and not thinking straight.” He picked up other pieces of Blaine’s clothing, trying his best to not visualize how he’d helped Blaine undress just a few hours prior. He threw all of Blaine’s clothes on the bed before taking a few steps away and turning around to allow his friend some privacy. As he heard the bed creak and the shuffling of sheets, Sebastian guessed that Blaine was probably moving to get out of bed and he couldn’t be there right now. The air between them was tense and Sebastian didn’t even know what to say. “Um--” he started speaking, taking a few steps towards the door. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee to help us shake this hangover.”

Sebastian wasn’t a fan of awkward conversations-- especially ones that involved his best friend and a drunken night without clothes. He grabbed a shirt and a pair of jeans before bolting for the door, making a beeline for the kitchen.

Blaine Anderson:

As Blaine hurried to dress himself, flashes of the night before played through his mind becoming less fuzzy the more awake he got. “I-right, not thinking," He stuttered, standing up from the bed to pull on his pants. The tension in the air was nothing like it had been the night before, and it only thickened when Sebastian left the room. Standing there in Sebastian’s room half-dressed, Blaine placed his hand on his head and took a deep breath. “Dammit.”

It took Blaine a few long moments to finish getting himself dressed and cleaned up. He washed his face in the bathroom, looking at himself for a minute, trying to wrap his own mind around what had happened. He had sex with Sebastian. He had sex with Sebastian. The one person in the entire world that was off-limits to him, and he’d had sex with him. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate. “Great, Blaine, great. You just have to ruin everything don’t you?” He groaned, turning off the light as he finally emerged, slowly making his way to the kitchen to tell Sebastian goodbye; there was no way they were going to lunch now, and there was no way they weren’t going to be awkward with each other. The one person in the world he didn’t have to ever feel awkward around. “H-hey,” He said quietly, shuffling his feet a little. “I should probably just...go home.”

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian had been in the kitchen, having put on some casual-fitting clothes along the way. His mind was still racing as he focused solely on making some coffee. It didn’t seem like his parents were home at the moment and that wasn’t out of the norm; if anything, it made the morning a little easier because he felt like he had a lot on his plate as it were.

When Blaine’s quiet voice cut through the silence, Sebastian turned to look at him and his brow furrowed slightly. He felt bad that he put Blaine in a position to feel uncomfortable in his presence. “Hey, no, you don’t have to go,” he frowned and pulled a thermos from a nearby cabinet. “I’m not about to let you foot it home from here and I still need to get my car from Scandals…”

The coffee pot rumbled softly as the coffee brewed, and Sebastian pulled a second thermos from the cabinet and placed it down on the counter. “I’m still me, Blaine. And you’re still you. I can at least drive you home and get McDonald’s on the way. I promised, after all.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine hesitated where he stood as Sebastian spoke, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the tension that he had caused; the memory came back loud and clear of who started it. He had no one to blame but himself. “I--” He didn’t know what to say. He was afraid of saying anything. It was a delicate situation that could go horribly wrong if he wasn’t careful. “Okay,” was all he managed to get out before he fell silent again, smiling a little when Sebastian mentioned McDonald’s. “I guess McDonald’s wouldn’t hurt,” he admitted, not knowing if that were actually true.

He was a little worried about spending any more time with Sebastian that day. Though it was true that they were still them… They had completely jumped over the line in their friendship and Blaine had no idea how he felt about it.

Sebastian Smythe:

The car ride over was silent and maybe that was good in a way since they both had splitting headaches, but Sebastian was uneasy with this particular quiet. Before last night, the two of them could sit in total silence and there was never a moment where Sebastian felt pressured to fill the silence with conversation. Usually the silence was comforting, even-- being with Blaine put him at ease. Now it was different; Sebastian felt like he had so much he needed to say but he still held his tongue. When they arrived at the nearly-empty Scandal’s parking lot, they switched from their Lyft ride over to Sebastian’s car to get them to McDonald’s.

When they pulled up to the drive-thru, Sebastian looked at Blaine. “You want your usual? 60 chicken nuggets and twelve large fries?” he joked, though the sound of so much food turned his stomach a bit. For some reason greasy food seemed to help with a hangover in the long-run; it was a fact that was actually revealed to him by Blaine himself. “I figured we’d just eat in the car so we don’t have to deal with people.”

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine had a hundred different thoughts swirling around in his head, only making his head throb harder. He wanted to speak, the silence was deafening and he wanted to break it but it felt as if he couldn’t physically open his mouth. It wasn’t until they were in the drive-thru that Blaine gave any sign of being aware of his surroundings. Sebastian made him laugh even if only gently when he joked about the food. “Make it 70.” The joke made the tension ease for a brief moment, but it rapidly built right back up once they were parked with the food in their hands.

Blaine kept quiet again as he scarfed down his food, surprisingly starving considering the current climate of the car. Even as he ate all he could think about was Sebastian and how they’d just probably ruined their friendship and he didn’t want to lose his very best friend in the whole world- he started to feel the beginnings of a panic attack when he just blurted out, “This is stupid.” He wanted to drown out the doomsday thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal. Right? “This doesn’t have to be some big deal.” He looked to Sebastian, shaking his head. “It was just sex.” He was more trying to convince himself than the other.

Sebastian Smythe:

It was just sex: A statement that Sebastian had both heard and said multiple times. He was all too familiar with the statement and Blaine was the last person he'd ever expected to utter it. But here Blaine was, cute and beautiful as ever, clearly looking to him for reassurance. "Yeah," he replied, with a single vigorous nod of the head, brow furrowed. "I'm totally used to drunken nights with meaningless sex. Like, I just feel bad because I know you're not like that; you want a relationship and all that crap."

Sebastian took a break from eating to get to the core of the issue. He knew he could be upfront and honest with Blaine-- they were best friends, after all. "I just… I feel like an asshole because I took advantage of you. You just got dumped and you were vulnerable and sad last night." Had it been literally anyone else, Sebastian wouldn't have felt an ounce of remorse being another man's rebound. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, B."

Blaine Anderson:

Meaningless. Blaine chuckled with a nervous shake of his head. “Right, no, don’t feel bad. It’s okay. I mean, obviously I don’t do this often but it’s not like I haven’t.” He assured Sebastian as he took a drink. With a shrug of his shoulders Blaine looked down, he felt a little bad himself that Sebastian had taken it upon his own shoulders to be responsible for ‘taking advantage’ of Blaine when Blaine knew better. “No, don’t feel like an asshole either, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He looked to his best friend-- for the first time that day. “You’re not responsible for this- not solely responsible.”

Blaine let out a sigh as he nudged Sebastian, smiling gently. “Hey, you’re my best friend. It’s okay. We got carried away and you took care of me for the night-” He blushed, the thought of the two of them together causing him to glance down. “I’m sure it was great.” It was great-- he remembered more of it in that moment than he had when he first woke up. It was the best sex he’d had in his life and he wasn’t sure why just yet. “We don’t have to talk about it ever again if we don’t want to...but it happened and it’s okay.” He said in an attempt to convince himself further. He wasn’t sure how easy it would be to just continue on the way they always did but he wasn’t about to lose Sebastian because of whatever he may or may not be feeling internally. “As long as you think we’re fine, then we’re fine as far as I’m concerned.” He punctuated his statement with an uncertain breath.

Sebastian Smythe:

Blaine was right; this was a mistake that the two of them had made together. They were both consenting young adults who knew the repercussions even if they were both drunk. Even if in the drunken, hazy moment, both of them had wanted this. Sebastian mentally cursed at Yesterday-Sebastian, wishing that he would’ve had a little more consideration for himself before dropping this mess for him to navigate.

“I think we’re fine,” Sebastian replied, a little more stilted than he would’ve liked but it was difficult to lie right in Blaine’s face. He cleared his throat before he clarified, “I mean, shit’s gonna be awkward for a little bit but it’s not like we’re not friends or I’m not going to be in your corner when you need help.” Or a body in your bed when you get lonely again. Sebastian chided the rogue thoughts and did his best to focus on the conversation at hand. “It doesn’t feel like it now, but I bet this’ll be something we’ll laugh at when we get older and you settle down with a boring gay orthodontist or something, and I’m living it up with my harem of strippers.”

Sebastian just wanted things to be normal again and if pretending last night didn’t happen helped, then god willing he was determined to do his best.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine pressed his lips together and nodded his head as Sebastian spoke. They were at least as fine as they were going to be there at that moment. It was a lot and it had all just happened not twenty four hours before- it was going to take a bit to feel any sense of normalcy. “Right, it’s not I’m not going to be in your corner either. Who cares if we had sex?” He swallowed hard as the words being said out loud again were a lot for him to handle. I care.

“It’ll just be a funny story one day that means nothing. You were here for me and we were drunk.” He said aloud only to further convince himself. He looked to Sebastian, smiling at him and nodding his head. “Your strippers will think it’s funny, probably not so much my orthodontist.” Blaine laughed gently, taking a deep breath and rubbing his face. “Good, this is good, I feel good.” He lied through his teeth but he wanted it to feel normal again and he just had to fake it long enough until they actually made it. They would make it. They had to. “I’m glad we had this talk...and thanks for being there for me last night- regardless of what happened. I just...will be more careful when I drink.” He joked in an attempt to speed up the process of getting back to normal.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian chuckled awkwardly as Blaine played along with his little jokes. Hearing Blaine say that they were good and they could agree to still be friends regardless of what happened last night. "Yeah, from now on I'll have to watch how much I drink or we need to start bringing a third with us to be our DD," Sebastian added, though he honestly didn't want to bring a third wheel into the mix. He liked when it was just him and Blaine, even with the weird tension.

Looking down to the spread of junk food, Sebastian didn't feel particularly hungry anymore and he really just wanted to curl up into bed and pretend yesterday didn't exist even though his brain would play it on repeat for the rest of the day. He wanted to tell Blaine he'd gladly give himself over again, let Blaine have his way with him because last night was mind-blowing and he wished Blaine was more like him so he could have exactly that. He would gladly be Blaine's rebound guy forever if he could get that kind of sex on the regular. Yet, Sebastian was infinitely more grateful that Blaine wasn't that person; Blaine cared about relationships and in turn cared about him. Even if last night didn't mean anything, Sebastian knew that he meant a lot to Blaine as his friend.

"So, same time next week?" Sebastian joked with a genuine laugh this time, doing his best to laugh off their horrid mistake.

Blaine Anderson:

Blaine immediately shook his head at the idea of a third person, he didn’t really trust anyone else the way he trusted Sebastian and he would prefer it just be the two of them even if something were to ever happen again between them. “Ugh, no, no third. You get weird around outsiders.” He chuckled as he began to gather up their food trash, not feeling too hungry anymore himself. “No, we’re fine, we’ll be fine. We’ll just...not do it again.” Blaine shrugged. “I mean, we managed for this long. We’ll be fine.” Blaine felt weird. He felt weird about the night before and about them and it was upsetting. It was no one’s fault but his own.

In reality it was the best night of his entire life and he would do it again right then and there but Sebastian was off-limits to him and he had always known that. He’d set boundaries with himself a long time ago to not fall for Sebastian because he would just get hurt. He knew Sebastian better than anyone and he wasn’t about to ruin their relationship over feelings that he wasn’t even sure he had.

Sebastian Smythe:

Sebastian laughed at Blaine’s reaction, both very aware that if a twosome in bed was already so bad, a threesome would be an unmitigated disaster. “We’re definitely fine,” he parroted as the word sounded weirder and weirder the more they repeated it to each other. Even if it didn’t feel it right then and there, he wasn’t going to let some drunken fling together tear apart their entire friendship.

As they cleaned up their trash and Sebastian drove Blaine home with the radio playing music very quietly so as to not worsen their hangovers, he couldn’t help but to think that try as he might to forget what happened last night, it’d be a night he’d never forget.

#seblaine #verse: frozen candle #para: fc 001

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