#and not about like. What you actually offer him. Which is so shallow. Buck knows him deeper than that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rebeccccccaaa · 3 years

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𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚊𝚒𝚗

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𝙱𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Requested: (ANON) Hey :) Would you do an imagine where you live in the apartment next to Steve in Brooklyn and you're kinda very best friends. But one time you see this handsome stranger visiting Steve and you immediately get curious who he is. Steve soon notices you sneaking around when Buck visits him and he notices him seeking your attention as well. So he sets up something to bring you two together, which works? :) I hope this is not weird haha

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Smut 18+ minors dni, fluff, steve’s a major wingman, bucky’s a major flirt ;)

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛’𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: This isn’t exactly a college au but it’s a college au lol thanks for the request. I changed it up a bit cuz the idea of shameless!bucky has been on my noggin for a minute but hope you like it bug

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You and Steve sat on his couch watching a movie giggling and snacking the day away. You and Steve live across the hall from each other and the movers were confused as all hell and a lot of your guys’ things got swapped when you both moved in, which happened to be the same day. However, since the day you met and you two have been inseparable.

“Oh man, what a classic,” you sighed when the credits came on.

“Too good. I could never get tired of that movie,” Steve laughed.

“I should probably get going. I’ve been all up in your space all day, sorry,” you chuckled.

“Oh it’s never a problem, Y/n. You know you’re welcome to my man-cave anytime,” Steve nudged your shoulder.”

“Man-cave,” you repeated mockingly, snickering.

You grabbed a still filled bottle of beer and walked out the door, not without shouting your goodbye probably annoying your other neighbors. You walked to your apartment seeing the clock said it was around five. You grabbed your laptop and opted for pizza considering you didn’t really want to make anything from the kitchen.

About to input your card information on the website for delivery, you noticed you didn’t have your wallet or your phone. You left it at Steve’s. You walked across the hall and knocked on Steve’s but Steve didn’t open the door.

“Hey, I left my stuff here- Woah, you’re not Steve.”

A very tall fellow with striking blue eyes stood confidently at the door. He had fair skin and long brown locks pulled into a bun rested in the back of head. He was fucking gorgeous.

“Nope,” was all he said before Steve came up to the door.

“Hey you’re back. This my friend Bucky; the guy I grew up with, the one I told you about,” Bucky’s smile grew and you nearly buckled to the floor, gosh he was so handsome.

“I left my wallet and my phone,” you looked at Steve feeling Bucky’s eyes practically boring into you.

“Yeah let me grab it for you,” Steve ran away.

“So you’re Steve’s neighbor?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah; I’ve heard a few stories about you and Steve.”

“He’s told me a lot about you too. Failed to mention how beautiful you are,” what a fucking asshole. Your body and face grew hot at the compliment.

“Here ya go,” Steve came back, saving you from a potentially awkward situation.

“Thanks; uh… nice to meet you Bucky,” you ran back through your door.

“Uh, were you gonna tell me that your new bestie neighbor friend was fucking hot as hell?” Bucky said after he closed the door.

“Dude, come one. She’s too good for you,” Steve laughed, making Bucky roll eyes grinning.

For the rest of the day you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky, and Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about you. Since that day, Bucky came around to Steve’s almost like clockwork. You were always making sure to leave right before he got there. You would peeked through your peephole, watching him go inside Steve’s apartment.

There were days where all three of you would hang out whether it’d be at your place or Steve’s, usually Steve’s, and those days were the worst. Bucky’s intentional stares and lingering touches. Sitting so close to you when you guys put a movie on.

One time when Steve went to the bathroom he asked if you had a boyfriend and regretfully you said no. It seemed as though his shameless flirting became even more shameless if that was even possible.

“Y/n, have I told you how good you look today?” Bucky asked you when you got back from having lunch.

“Yes, you have. About three times today,” you nudged his shoulder with yours.

“Ah shit. Y/n, I think I left my keys inside. Can I use your extra I gave you?”

“Sure,” you handed him your keys and he picked up the one that looked like an American flag since his birthday was the fourth of July. You thought it was funny and easy to remember.

“Ok thanks,” he handed them back once you guys settled inside.

“You guys want anything?”

“Nothing you couldn’t give me,” Bucky smirked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m good Steve, thanks. I’m actually gonna head back to my apartment, I gotta finish homework,” you told him before leaving.

“You guys are still in school?” Bucky asked Steve when you left.

“She is. She’s working towards a PhD, I forgot in what,” Steve shrugged.

“Oh.” She’s smart, Bucky thought.

“I should probably get going too. I’ve got my bike and I heard it was going to rain for the next couple days.”

“Wait before you go, why won’t you ask Y/n on a date?” Steve smirked.

“Eh, she’s beautiful but I don’t think she’d go for a guy like me. She’s too smart,” Bucky chuckled.

“Nah, I think she likes you too,” Steve said.

“You gonna come by tomorrow?” he asked.

“If it doesn’t rain, sure.”

“It won’t; I’ll see ya then.”

Tomorrow came quickly and your head was buried in a textbook and your hand in a bag of chips. You had order takeout already and quickly ate it leaving boxes and plastics to-go utensils littered all over your table. On the bright side, or rather rainy, droplets fell gracefully down the window in front of you. They weren’t heavy but the drizzle was still very pleasant.

Rainys days were always your favorite. You usually spent them on your bed that laid underneath a window and if you needed extra comfort you’d crack it so you could hear the rainfall and cars drive over wet asphalt. It was peaceful.

Pulling you from your concentration was a firm knock on the door.

“Buck, whatcha doing here?” you opened the door.

“Steve said to come by but he’s not here,” he told you.

“Oh weird. He didn’t say he was going out. Did you try his spare?”

“It’s not there,” you frowned at his statement.

“Here let me grab my keys and I can let you in, he won’t mind.”

You grabbed your keys and searched for the American Flag key for Steve’s apartment but you could find it. The last you used it was when Steve needed his key because he left his in his apartment. Wait, how did he lock his apartment if he didn’t have his key? Why didn’t he use his spare; where is his spare?

“Hey, I don’t know where his key is so why don't you just come inside and wait here,” you offered. Did Steve steal your key? Why?

“Do you want anything to drink?” you asked him.

“You got beer?” he smiled cheekily.

“Of course I do,” you smirked.

Bucky came in and you quickly cleaned your disaster of a living room. There were papers and books everywhere, cups and plates piled on the coffee table. Bucky didn’t seem repulsed but he did mention slyly that he thought you were a tidy person. You punched his shoulder laughing saying you usually are but exams were tight right now. Not only that but you couldn’t even remember the last time you had a guy over.

You put a movie on for you and Bucky drinking beer and eating some snacks you had in a cabinet. You weren’t going to lie, being around Bucky like this was comforting but also nerve-wrecking. He was so handsome and of course that made you nervous. And his continuous shameless flirting did nothing for your own confidence.

“Awe man, Steve said he can’t come home,” Bucky read the message out loud.

“Why?”

“Said he got caught in the rain,” he told you.

“What a fucking liar. It’s hardly drizzling,” you laughed out loud.

Almost immediately Steve texted you asking if you let Bucky in your apartment and you replied saying that you would let him in his but that you knew he stole your key.

I’d do no such thing, he replied and you rolled your eyes.

Remember to use protection! ;)

I knew it! You stole your key from my chain so he’d have come in my apartment, you sent.

Make sure he doesn’t come in you ;D.

Grossss.

“What’s with the face?” Bucky grinned.

“Steve texted me and he is being an ass,” you laughed.

“What, he stole your key so I’d have to come here cause he thinks we’ll go at it like rabbits?” he grinned.

“Did you set him up to sleep with me?” you asked, slightly disgusted that he would something like that.

“No! I just, I grew up with Steve, I know him like the back of my hand. Asked me to come over and surprisingly isn’t there, no spare and you don’t have his key either? I kinda put the pieces together,” he said.

“I would never do something that shallow,” he said.

“Sorry, I don’t think you’re shallow I just- I don’t know,” you stuttered, there goes your chance of even something happening.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” he smirked.

You didn’t know exactly how or what happened next. Maybe it was the alcohol coursing through you, or the constant tension between you two especially now that Steve wasn’t there with you guys. But either way here you were, your back pressed against your bedroom door, hands held above your head, Bucky’s thigh between your legs, and he kissed you messily.

You chest pressed against his own and Bucky released your hands, cupping your jaw with them to kiss more softly. Your hands went under his shirt and you could feel all the curves and definitions of his muscles. Your nails scratched lightly and you felt him tighten his muscles even more.

He grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it swiftly over his head and your mouth practically watered at the sight before you. You noticed small scars and bumps on his shoulder and you grew curious but Bucky’s lips against your neck were too distracting to ask any questions.

Bucky lifted your own shirt and kissed down your chest and collarbones moving your bra strap to leave small bites and marks along them. He kissed down your stomach slowly kneeling to the ground in front of you. He pulled you sweatpants off leaving a trail of kisses along your legs.

You stared down at him biting your lip and with a wicked smile, his lower lip also between his teeth, he pulled your panties down your legs. He licked his lips bringing his fingers up to your core. You gasped softly feeling Bucky spreading your arousal around. He slowly licked a long stripe up your center, and your body practically melted at the feeling.

Bucky lifted your leg and draped it over his shoulder as he continued to circle your clit with his tongue and finger you. Your hands played with his hair and you breathed heavily getting closer and closer to your release. Bucky added another finger to pump in and out of you. He pressed kisses in between whispers of praises and your legs trembled.

“You look so fucking hot, babe. Taking my fingers so well,” he said.

“Fuck, Bucky, you feel so good,” you threw your head back hitting the door. Your hips bucked signaling that you were about to come and Bucky’s fingers curled and moved faster making you nearly screamed in pleasure. When you did, Bucky leaned forward lapping up your arousal that spilled out of you.

He got up and kissed you softly telling you how good you were and how beautiful you looked just now. He wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his hips. He walked to your bed and laid you down gently. Your finger traced and brushed over the planes of muscles across his chest. The light caught the definitions of the bumps and scars, more prominently this and Bucky noticed your soft gaze.

“I was in a motorcycle accident a few years ago. I almost lost my arm that day. It still hurts sometimes but it’s manageable,” he whispered.

You smiled sadly brushing your fingertips over the scarred skin.

“I’m so sorry,” you said sadly.

“It’s alright, babe. I have this scar in particular, I think it looks like a star but Steve said I was crazy,” he smiled, moving his shoulder to point at the red scar that did in fact look like a star; a very misshapen one but you could see it.

You kissed his shoulder softly before smiling at him and ruffling his hair playfully. He dipped his head down and nipped your skin making you giggle and squeal at his playful antics. He picked his head back up and stared at you for a minute; his gaze made you flushed and shy.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. His hands caressed your skin from your sides to your bare hips up to your cheeks and jaw. You bit your lip and casted your eyes down avoiding his.

“What, you don’t believe me?” he chuckled.

“No, it’s not that.”

“What is it?” He held your hand.

“Nothing, just…” Bucky raised his eyebrows waiting for your answer.

“People don’t tell me those things. It’s been a while since someone said those words to me,” you whispered.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about that anymore because I intend to tell you everyday how beautiful you are. How gorgeous you are. How funny you are. How kind you are. How perfect you are,” he kissed along jaw and neck whispering these things in your ear that erupted butterflies in your stomach and chills along your arms.

“Let me show you,” he looked intimately in your eyes. You bit your lip shyly before nodding and Bucky shimmied out of his own pants and boxers. His cock rested against your thigh as he dropped his garments to the side and you could feel just how hard he was.

“You feel that baby girl? You feel how fucking hard you get me? So fucking sexy,” he kissed you messily; his hand falling between your bodies to pump his cock. He reached down to grab his pants once more pulling a condom from his pocket and you smirk teasingly at him.

“What?” he smiled.

“Did you plan on spending tonight between my legs?” you smirked.

“No, but I sure as hell dream about it every night since I met you,” he kissed softly before tearing the foil and wrapping his dick.

He reached behind your back, you arched your chest up for him to remove the bra you still had on and when he tossed the garment to the side he groaned at the gorgeous sight in front of him. His hands kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts, his fingers pinching at your perked nipples.

Bucky slowly slipped past your folds and you instantly felt full from his size. After just the tip, you were worried that he might be too big but even with how big Bucky felt inside you, the pressure was too good and you were already moaning beneath him. He leaned forward capturing your breast in his mouth and his tongue swirled around your bud, teething nipping ever so lightly making your body shudder.

Your hand went to his head and the band keeping his hair back was lost in your sheets. His hair fell forward brushing over your skin creating goosebumps along your chest and arms. Your finger combed through his long locks and your nails scratched his scalp lightly, making Bucky’s eyes flutter shut.

He released your breasts with a lewd pop before giving the other the same attention. His hips rocked in and out of you at a delicious pace and your legs wrapped around his hips pulling him closer to you, his cock reaching deeper inside you. Your moans grew louder with each thrust and Bucky’s groans did too.

He nibbled on your ear chuckling darkly at how good he was fucking you. Practically taunting you as you got insanely close to a release.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“No one is ever gonna fuck you this good.”

“You’re all mine, baby girl. All mine.”

You whined and shook beneath him and his thrust became sporadic. It only took a few more thrusts until both of you groaned loudly in pleasure. Bucky’s head buried in your neck and your chest pressed against his in an arch. When you came down from your climax, your felt eyes instantly felt heavy and droopy. You breathe heavily, your hands lazily scratch his head.

Bucky kissed tiredly along your neck basically purring at the feeling of your scratches. You turned the window directly beside you and watched the rain gracefully fall down the window. The blue hue coming from the night was a beautiful contrast to the warm blurred lights of the city and your small lamp that you always had on.

Bucky lifted himself and went to the bathroom quickly to discard the used condom. He cleaned himself before coming out to clean you up as well. You smiled at him brushing the hair from his sweaty forward and from his face. He left little kisses along your hips and thighs as he cleaned you up making you giggle softly at the feeling.

He tossed the dirty cloth in your laundry basket and climbed in bed back to savor the warmth you gave to him. His arms cuddled you close and he watched your eyes continue to watch the rainfall outside.

“My bike’s probably soaked,” he whispered.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” you turned to him; the rain was coming down hard now and you felt bad.

“It’s alright. If this is how we get to spend our nights without Steve, he can get caught in the rain all he wants,” Bucky chuckled. You giggle before kissing him softly; falling into a harmonious sleep.

Bucky’s phone buzzed in his pant pocket and he reached carefully not to disturb you. He saw a message from Steve and rolled his eyes playfully already anticipating what his message was about.

Please tell you guys are together now. I can’t take the obnoxious flirting anymore, Steve sent.

I think you’re good, but don’t ya think you’ll be third wheeling a bunch?

Nah, I’m with Nat and we made official tonight, Steve sent.

Good for you bud. Thanks for this too. I really like Y/n and I know I can treat her.

I know you will. Otherwise I wouldn’t have let you gone near her XD

Bucky chuckled and you stirred a bit but ultimately went back to sleep curled into Bucky’s side even more. He smiled at your peaceful form. He dared say it but he definitely thought it. He knew he was up for a wild ride with you but he was more than ready to give you the world and more.

From then on, rainy days had become Bucky’s favorite as well.

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ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ: (For all my work)

@mathletemadison

@buckybarnes101

@l-sofiamia-l

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #marvel fics #marvel smut

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

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tantalizing* bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++ Holy shit this is so long (wc: 2011) I'm so sorry 😅 worth it tho 👀

* - Convincing him to let off some steam after a very stressful mission in which he is frustrated and agitated over and in need of some relief. god i havent written smut in so long, i hope its not too bad lmfao

Song: sick from the melt by motionless in white

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

"can you calm down?"

i said, venom barely dripping from my tone.

"No! I'm just frustrated. And angry. And pissed off!"

He seethed, pacing in front of me.

"God you need to get laid."

I said annoyed, rolling my eyes. I noticed he had stopped pacing now, looking at me like I was crazy.

"What?"

I asked innocently and he shook his head, continuing to wear a hole into the carpet of our shared hotel room. His bed was still made, his duffle bag sat neatly atop it like he hadn't even touched it since we had arrived.

"I just. God I want to punch his face in. I can't believe I was so stupid."

He lamented and I sighed, sitting back on my hands and crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm telling ya, it's a really good way to let off some steam."

I pointed out but he just kept going.

"Who does he think he is? And don't think I'm ranting, because I'm not. I'm quiet and reserved and-"

"Need to get laid."

I repeated and he sent me a look.

"Okay, what is with you?!"

He asked and I shrugged.

"You have a lot of pent up emotion and I just think it would help. Forgive me for trying to be a real one."

I said and he just stared at me, a darkness to his features.

"I'm not that kind of guy."

He said, moving to pace again and I snorted.

"What?"

He asked irritated and I shook my head.

"Nothing, you keep wearing the carpet down trying to solve the world's problems."

He rolled his eyes at me.

"When you're ready to get some let me know. Either I'll help you get it done or I'll call someone for each of us cause lord knows I could use it too."

I said, pulling my arms out from under me and falling on my back, staring at the popcorn ceiling.

"Did you just offer to get me a call girl?"

He asked and I snorted.

"Call girl. God you are old."

"I don't need a prostitute."

I shrugged, my t-shirt moving and holding against the white sheets folded over on my own bed.

"Maybe you don't but if you don't stop complaining I'm gonna."

I torted back.

"Surely you are not that shallow."

He said and I laughed, sitting up on my elbows.

"You wanna come over here and help a girl out instead? It'd save me a couple hundred."

He sent me a look and I just stared at him.

"I'm being serious."

I said after a minute. When he still didn't say anything or move I stood up, walking to him and staring him down.

"What's it gonna be sergeant Barnes?"

I said lowly, taunting him. I watched as his jaw clenched, staring back down at me like he'd die if he didn't.

"You want it that bad?"

He growled and I could feel a wave of desire wash through my body.

"Dont you?"

I challenged. There was a long pause, making sure we understood each other, before he slammed his lips into mine. In the moment it felt like my brain short circuited, slinging my arms around his neck as he held my hips for dear life. And before I knew it we were fighting for more kisses, the air barely staying in my lungs as his hands roamed my body, tugging at clothes I wish would vanish.

"Just rip it."

I said against his mouth as he tried to undo my bra from under my shirt. It was old and I had brought a back up for the trip so I wasn't that worried about it, I just wanted this to happen.

"This is harder than you'd think, not being able to actually feel it."

He said. And just as it clicked what he meant it didn't matter. In a second my shirt was over my head and he was tearing the front of my bra open like an animal. He groaned as he came back to kiss me, finally trailing down my neck as he undid my pants, moving long enough for me to get rid of his shirt too. What I wasn't ready for was, once naked, he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed, kicking off his own bottoms and crawling up between my legs.

"God I want this so bad."

He said a little breathlessly, kissing down my chest, his hands roaming my thighs.

"I need you."

I whined, my fingers pressing hard into his shoulder blade as he went further and further down my body.

"Beautiful."

He said, kissing the inside of my thigh, hoisting my leg onto his shoulder as he sucked a hickey into it.

"Bucky."

I moaned, closing my eyes as he leaned down, getting closer and closer to my core.

"Use your words gorgeous."

He sang, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Just fuck me."

I sighed out, digging my head into the mattress as he licked a stripe up my folds. Needless to say I wasn't ready for what he had to offer, his tongue pressing figure eights against my clit as he brought his hand up to tease me. It was soft touches for a moment but then it was two fingers, pumping in and out of me slowly. When he moved to suck my clit instead i gripped the sheets tightly with one hand, the other going to the back of his head as I panted.

"Please. Bucky."

I sighed out, scratching the back of his head. When he slowed his hand I couldn't help pushing my hips further into his face. my mouth dropped open when he added a third finger, pumping quickly until I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

"Jesus Christ!"

I yelled, him curling his fingers up and making my legs quiver against him as I came hard. I breathed heavily while he licked me clean, making me seize every time his tongue ran over my clit again. When he was done I pulled him to me, slamming my lips against his and kissing him hungrily.

"How was that?"

He asked and I nodded against him, placing open mouthed kissed along his jaw.

"Otherworldly."

He just smirked at me.

"That's good, cause I'm not done yet."

He said and I sent him a worried look.

"Don't worry, it's nothing you can't handle."

He reassured. I couldn't think straight so I settled on nodding, tracing my fingers down his torso. As I reached his erection I touched it gently, watching it jump before I grabbed it and pumped him a few times. He moaned loudly, closing his eyes as I swirled my thumb around his tip, smearing his precum across it. He half opened his eyes to watch me but as I went to go down on him he stopped me.

"No, I want to be inside you."

He said darkly, pulling me into his lap instead. I looked down at him with lust filled eyes as he began kissing across my chest, taking one of my nipples into his mouth and biting it. I moaned at the sensation, bucking my hips against him. As his mouth moved he pulled me closer, helping me line up above him and pushing my hips down. We both moaned at the feeling, him dropping his head back as I sat back up and sank back down onto him.

"Y/n."

He groaned, pressing his finger tips into my hips as I began riding him. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. He guided me more than anything though, holding me so firmly I was sure there would be bruises later. But God it felt so good I didn't even care. I just wanted to be closer to him.

"Switch?"

I asked and he looked almost nervous.

"I don't want to break you."

He said, his brows knitted together and I laughed.

"Please do."

He sent me a look as I sank back down onto him. He moved to place one hand at my back and flipped us over, making me gasp as he managed to bury himself ever further in me.

"Bucky."

I moaned, him pushing the hair out of my face as he began pounding into me. It was so hard the bed was beginning to creak, the headboard now hitting back and forth into the wall. It was now the more prominent sound in the room, overtaking the sound of skin on skin or breathing or even the soft moans escaping his lips as he bit and sucked at my neck. I couldn't help the whine that made it's way through my body as I pressed my nails into his back.

He was fucking me so hard I was sure the bed would break, but so far it was holding up pretty well. He grunted harshly, pressing his fingers down between us and circling my clit a few times. I closed my eyes at the sensation, letting out breathy moans as he continued to take all his frustrations out on me. As he got faster though I got worried and suddenly I had spoken too soon. The next thing I knew the legs at the foot of the bed snapped, the two at the head following shortly after, making me scream in surprise. He looked at me with a worried expression until I shrugged, pressing my hips up against him and urging him to keep going. He just laughed a little and kissed me, slamming into me again. And with that I was done for.

"Bucky!!"

I screamed, feeling another rush of pleasure flood my body. But he kept going.

"So close."

He managed, tilting his head up and squeezing his eyes shut. He pushed into me a few more times before his mouth dropped, a deep moan escaping him as he came hard into me. He stayed there for a second, breathing deeply until he opened his eyes, pushing into me one, two, three more times before pulling out. I felt so empty as he rolled onto the bed beside me, it squeaking at the weight shift. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, feeling his hot cum drip out of me and onto the sheets.

"I guess you were right."

He said after a long pause, taking my hand in his and bringing it up to kiss the back of it. I turned my head to look at him and he sent me a lazy smile.

"I don't think anything in my life could have ever prepared me for that."

I said seriously before cracking a smile and laughing, rolling over and him bringing me into his side.

"Are you okay though? Sometimes I don't know my own strength. I mean you weren't protesting during, but still. id feel bad if i hurt you."

He said and I kissed his chest lightly.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I think that's the best sex I've ever had. If I can't walk later it was totally worth it."

He laughed, kissing the top of my head. then he froze, his body tensing against me as he looked down at me.

"shit. I didn't even think about a condom. Do we need to go get something... Or?"

I looked up at him, blinking slowly, the tiredness hitting me like a train.

"We can go get a plan B pill when we leave in the morning. Right now I think we deserve a nap."

i said through a yawn. He smiled at me and nodded, watching my eyes flutter shut. I hummed as he pulled one of the blankets up over me, kissing my temple lightly.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

#wattpad #x reader #smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #white wolf #falcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #imagines #one shots #marvel #captain america #324

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imagineanythings · 3 years

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Exhausted (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky x Reader (friendship)

Word Count: 4.7k

You’re the type of person who always needs to push yourself to your limits, and Steve doesn’t always approve.

warnings: slight smut, nudity, death mention, hurt/comfort

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You had always been incredibly stubborn. It was a trait that came in handy in your work in espionage; you were hard to crack in interrogation and would do whatever it took to complete your mission. On the other hand, it was usually pretty detrimental to your health and wellbeing. You were more than willing to put your life on the line for the sake of a mission, and you were known for pushing yourself well past your limits in training sessions. You usually didn’t stop until you or your training partner were physically incapable of going on. You knew that the other avengers worried about you, particularly golden boy Steve and your best friend Wanda, but you usually just shook off their concerns. Bucky and Nat were always more than willing to go round after round with you in the ring or spot you as you lifted until your body gave out. They understood your need to push yourself and they were always there to help you do it safely. Having them made it easier to ignore the disapproving looks Steve always shot at you as you came wobbling out of the gym, trying to maintain your balance on exhausted legs. Those looks always gave you a deep pain in your stomach, like you had just been caught doing something wrong. Your gut twisted up into a knot as you ducked your head to avoid the gaze of America’s golden boy. You weren’t sure why, but you hated it so much when he looked at you like that.

Today was a tough day. Your mission a few days ago had gone south, which meant a lot of improvising and more casualties than there should have been. You were taking it particularly hard as you had taken point on the mission. Those deaths were completely your fault, and the guilt was weighing you down. You had barely slept. The night was plagued with visions of it all going wrong, some of true events and some of false, twisted worst case scenarios that your mind had created. After another nightmare and an abrupt wake up at 6 AM, you decided that you had gotten as much sleep as you were going to get that night. You got yourself up and out of bed and quickly found Bucky, who as luck would have it, was already in the gym, no doubt trying to exhaust himself to the point where his thoughts wouldn’t be so loud, which was coincidentally the same thing you were planning on doing. “Hey! Barnes!” You yelled as you entered the gym. He dropped the large weights he was curling and turned to look at you.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up” He pulled you in for a hug once you got close enough, you sighed at the warmth and comfort despite his sweat.

“Oh you know, just trying to outrun the demons,” you joked as you tied your shoes, earning a small smile from him.

“I know how you feel” He said, still smiling, but you could hear the slight sadness in his voice.

“Come on Buck, how does some sparring sound?” You asked, climbing up into the ring. He smiled and wordlessly followed you.

Bucky was one of your favorite people to spar with. He was much bigger than you while still being almost as fast and agile, which forced you to get creative. He also wasn’t afraid of fighting dirty, which you loved. He’d pull your hair or sweep your legs out from underneath you or you’d climb on his back and cover his eyes, one time you even bit him when you found yourself running out of options. You’d never seen him look so shocked and deranged as he did after you sunk your teeth into his forearm, but you knew that both of you loved it. He had retaliated by actually pulling a knife on you, which was a first in your hand to hand training sessions. It wasn’t just physical, it was a mental game, sparring with Bucky, and you found it was one of the absolute best ways to keep your mind off of all of your horrible failures. You knew he felt similarly, you could see the way his shoulders relaxed and lost their tension when he stepped into the ring, the way his eyes lit up and the corners of his lips twitched upwards when you landed a particularly good hit. Sparring with Bucky was therapeutic and exactly what you needed right now. Being a supersoldier, his stamina was much better than yours, and he never went easy on you. He would let you work until you physically couldn’t anymore. Even when your punches began to lag and your form became sloppy, he continued to deliver precise hits, easily taking you down over and over and over again. You would always just shake it off and bounce back up, eager to try again. On one particularly tough takedown though, where he delivered clean hits to your side, stomach, and chest all in rapid succession before grabbing your wrist when you made a weak attempt to hit back and tossing you easily over his shoulder like a ragdoll, you remained down for much longer than usual. He could see that you were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Your chest heaved and your eyes had inadvertently filled with tears. You reached up quickly and wiped them away but it was too late, Bucky had already seen them, and he could hear the rasping of your slightly panicked, shallow breaths.

“Alright doll,” He said, offering you his hand, “I think that’s enough for one day,” You begrudgingly accepted and allowed him to pull you up to your feet, where you stood shakily, catching your breath for a moment. He put a gentle hand on your back as you hunched over, still trying to get the air to return to your lungs, and you both just stood there for a few moments before he spoke again. “You sure you’re ok, doll? I’m sorry if I went too hard there, I should have slowed down, I’m so so sorry” you could feel him panicking so you forced yourself to straighten up and you put a gentle hand on his flesh arm.

“You’re gonna have to do a lot worse if you really wanna take me out of commission, Barnes” you flashed him a smile and he let out a shaky breath and a nod. You managed to hold back a grimace until he had turned away for a moment.

“Good to know,” He said after the few moments you both took to collect yourselves, helping you out of the ring and handing you a water bottle, which you gratefully took. After a few more moments of recollecting yourself and getting your breath back you gave Bucky a quick hug and decided to head back to your room for a shower. “Thanks Buck, I really needed that,” you called over your shoulder on the way out.

“Anytime Doll! You know where to find me!” He called after you, bringing a small smile across your lips.

You moved shakily through the halls of the compound, adrenaline now totally worn off, the weakness and soreness of your muscles achingly loud. You had to brace yourself against the walls of the elevator in order to stay upright. Your head was swimming and you knew, once again, you had pushed it too far. Stepping out into the hall was even worse, you were dizzy and stars flitted across your vision. As you walked down the hall towards your room, you spotted Steve exiting his own room, which was directly across the hall from yours. You suppressed a groan as you knew within seconds that trademark disapproving golden boy stare would be upon you. He looked up after locking his door and saw you immediately, but instead of seeing that disappointed glare that you were expecting to adorn his face, his features softened. You must have really looked like shit.

“Y/N” He said softly, rushing to your side and allowing you to steady yourself against him.

“’m alright” you grumbled, trying to shove him off, but he just wrapped an arm around your waist to help keep you upright.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Y/N have you eaten today?” Steve asked. Truthfully, you hadn’t eaten that day. You had made it a rule not to eat before training in the mornings if at all possible. A few heavy cardio sessions followed by a well placed hit to the stomach forcing your breakfast back up your throat had convinced you to hold off of food until after training. You shook your head and Steve let out a frustrated sigh. There it was. The disappointment that you knew would show up eventually. Your stomach felt like it was continually tying itself up in knots and you weren’t sure if it was from the exhaustion or Steve’s palpable frustration with you.

“Come on, let’s get you in your room” He said, voice gentle and absent, the frustration you had heard so clearly moments ago barely detectable. He slowly helped you into your room, where you crumpled down onto the edge of your bed with a sigh. He disappeared out of your room and you were relieved to be left alone for a moment before he returned, a bottle of gatorade, a bottle of water, and a bag of trailmix in hand. He handed you the gatorade first. “Come on, you need to replenish your electrolytes.” You sighed and begrudgingly sat up to drink a few sips of the gatorade before lying back down.

“I can take care of myself you know,” you said, your tone more harsh than you had expected it to sound.

“I know,” his voice sounded somehow both fond and a bit sad, “but it seemed like you might need some help right now,” You shook your head and sighed, fighting back tears that you hadn’t even known were coming. Your vision was still swimming with those stupid tiny white stars and the exhaustion had caught up to your body and you felt horrible because you cost some brave people their lives and you were so embarrassed because you were breaking down in front of none other than Steve Rogers, who always looks at you like a child who deserves a timeout with those goddamn piercing blue eyes and you just know he can’t stand you and it’s all just too much. The tears came in droves and you couldn’t stop them. You threw your arms across your face to hide it but you knew Steve wasn’t that oblivious. You just wanted to crawl away and cry and hide from everyone but before you could even try to move you felt two large hands pulling your arms away from your face and wiping at your tears.

“Hey,” he said quietly, searching your eyes for answers. His bright blue stare made you want to hide even more, but you forced yourself to shakily hold his gaze, tears still coming. “You can talk to me you know, what’s going on?” He asked, reaching out to wipe your tears again. You sighed and slowly sat up. You had to fight the urge to rest your head on his shoulder and let him hold you while you sobbed. Instead you just let him put a gentle hand on your shoulder. You searched for the words but when you came up empty you just shook your head.

“Sorry,” was all you could manage, which to your surprise pulled a small chuckle from Steve.

“I don’t know what you could possibly be apologizing for right now, doll.” Steve said and you sighed, once again searching for the words.

“I’m just...” you trailed off, looking at the ceiling as if it could give you the answers. Steve waited patiently while you organized your thoughts. “I’m just sorry that I’m always letting you down. I know you don’t agree with my choices most of the time and I know you think I’m some irresponsible child, and hell maybe I am, I mean just yesterday I literally....” you couldn’t say that out loud, not yet, you weren’t ready to work through all of it. You swallowed and continued “I’m always going to do what I have to do to keep going, and I shouldn’t care if you don’t like me for it because I’m going to do what I want regardless of what people think but at the same time it feels like a knife in my gut whenever you look at me like you can’t believe someone like me ended up on a team like this.” You were rambling but you stopped yourself before it could go any further. “I’m just going to try and shower.” You stood up on unstable legs and Steve could see your entire body shaking from exhaustion and panic. He stood quickly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a hug. He could really feel you shaking now, pressed up so close against his body, like you were going to shatter at any moment. When you found your face pressed up against his shirt, breathing in his cologne and scent you lost it. You broke down and just let all the tears that you’d been holding in escape. If it weren’t for his arms wrapped tightly around you, you were sure your legs would have given out beneath you. You both stood like that for a few minutes, you sobbing into his chest as he stroked your hair and back and tried to make you feel safe. The shaking of your body went straight through his very being. Once your crying had slowed and he could feel your heart rate decreasing he tilted your chin upwards so he could look at you. Your eyes met his and he felt like you had his chest in a vice-grip, all tightness and pressure. His chest was completely and painfully empty, all that remained was an aggressive aching brought on by your red puffy eyes. He hated that he had a hand in making you feel like that.

“Hey,” he said quietly, fingers still gently resting on your chin. “I’ve never thought that of you.” He spoke slowly, voice barely above a whisper, his words deliberate and true. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not he should share more. “I...” he began, slowly gaining the confidence to say what he felt, “I only seem like I disapprove because I care about you... so much” Your breath caught in your throat. “It kills me to see you so beaten down and exhausted and all I want to do is help you but I never know how, I’m so sorry you thought anything else.” You examined his eyes to see he now seemed to be holding back tears as well. You placed a soft hand on his cheek and reached up on your toes to give him a small kiss on the side of his face next to your fingers. He blushed a bit, and spoke again, “you can always come to me, you know that right? I won’t work you as hard as Natasha, or put up nearly as much of a fight as Buck, but I’ll always be here when you need this,” he seemed sheepish at the admission. You just smiled.

“I can’t believe I thought you hated me this whole time,” he just shook his head in complete disbelief. That would be like hating the sun for burning so bright, it was ridiculous.

“I could never ever hate you y/n” His hand moved up to wipe at your tears once more. “Now will you please let me take care of you?” He asked, almost desperately. You rolled your eyes and simply nodded, even in your fragile state still not one to be “taken care of”, but who were you to argue with the Captain?

He sat you back down on your bed and told you to stay put and drink your gatorade. You did as you were told while he disappeared into the bathroom to turn on your shower. He came back into the room and forced you to eat some of the trail mix he had brought for you and then insisted on walking you to the bathroom, “You’re still shaking, I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself” he had said before wrapping a strong arm around your waist. You could have protested more but for some reason the words echoed into silence before they passed your lips.

Once in the bathroom you couldn’t help but give him shit “You gonna hold me up in the shower too?” You said with a smirk, leaning against your sink. He laughed but you could see his cheeks going pink.

“No- I um, well I can just,” he motioned towards the door, “not that I wouldn’t want to- I mean” he was getting more and more flustered by the second, you’d never seen the captain look so nervous and well... cute.

“If it wouldn’t be too weird, I could use the help” you conceded, and if you thought his face was red before, you had not been prepared for the crimson color that now covered his entire face and you were pretty sure his body too. “We can keep our underwear on if you want, it can be just...a friend thing, one friend helping another physically incapacitated friend” you said, and his breathing slowed a bit. He looked a bit sheepish and reached up to rub the back of his neck nervously, his voice barely audible when he finally spoke.

“And what if I didn’t want it to be just a friend thing?” He held eye contact with you, searching for some kind of response in the silence before you spoke. You were so stunned you couldn’t suppress a slight giggle, to which he immediately tensed up before you finally got some words out.

“Geez Rogers, at least take me to dinner first before you try to get me naked,” He looked absolutely mortified and began stammering and trying to get out some sort of apology.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I really didn’t mean to imply that I wanted to- well I mean I do, but not like this, and I absolutely would love to take you to dinner, I mean if that’s something you’re interested in, but I really just wanted to help and I screwed it up didn’t I?” He seemed like he could go on forever so you silenced him with a quick peck on the lips. It was chaste and fast, with not nearly as much feeling and closeness in it as either of you would have liked, but it served its purpose. He stood in stunned silence as you slowly took off your athletic shirt.

“Come on Rogers, dinner can wait, right now I need some help,” without waiting for an answer you steadied yourself on his arm with one hand as you tried to get out of your shorts without falling over. He was still looking at you like you had grown a second head, which made you back off a bit. You kept a hand on his arm for support but allowed for a bit more space between the two of you.

“Hey if you aren’t comfortable with this we don’t have to do it, I can just sit down in the shower or call Wanda or something it really isn’t a big deal.” He swallowed and shook his head, trying to snap himself out of whatever trance he had put himself in.

“No...no I just wasn’t expecting...” he paused, searching for the word, “that” He moved back in closer to you, he was close enough that his exhales ghosted your face. “As long as you’re sure you want this,” The words were tender but his face was set and serious. You nodded quickly in response.

“Oh Steve,” you took in his face, eyes tracing his features before finding his blue ones again, “This is all I want,” With a sudden moment of bravery, you weakly pulled yourself up and gently pressed your lips to his. He froze for a moment before reciprocating as if you were air and he desperately needed to catch his breath. He tasted surprisingly sweet, and the little groan he made when you reached up and ran your fingers through his hair tasted even sweeter. His hands began to roam but your body was still trembling and he had a sudden shock back to reality, in true captain-like focus, he was reminded of his mission. He pulled away slowly, your trembling increasing with the absence of his lips on yours. “Come on doll, let’s not forget why we’re here,” he said, barely above a whisper. He wanted you. He couldn’t deny that, but he wanted to make sure you were taken care of first. If he was going to do this, as he had wanted to for so long, he was going to do it right. He slowly helped pull your sports bra off and then knelt down to remove your panties. He couldn’t help but leave small kisses on your stomach and thighs as he slid the fabric down your legs.

You shuddered and pawed at his shoulders. He understood almost immediately and pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. You tried to remove his belt but he quickly replaced your shaky fingers with his own, larger, more steady ones. He made quick work of his belt and pants and suddenly it was just the two of you standing there, painfully aware of how naked and exposed you were. As he looked at you he felt entirely breathless. You were more gorgeous than he had imagined, your skin so smooth and soft, your curves perfect, he wanted nothing more than to have you right there, but he held himself back. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, his girl needed his help, and he wasn’t going to let her down.

Steve reached a hand into the shower and felt the water to make sure it was hot enough. He gave a little satisfactory nod to himself before helping you into the shower and maneuvering you beneath the water. He made sure to keep at least one steady hand on you as you let the water wash over you. He could have stood there for hours, just watching your face relax and your head roll back as the water soothed your aching body. With your eyes closed and a blissful smile on your face you looked so peaceful, Steve almost didn’t want to interrupt the moment, but he could see you swaying a bit, still off balance and shaky from exhaustion. He quickly grabbed the shampoo and moved behind you, his muscular chest pressed up close against your back. Slowly he began to work the shampoo into your hair, your head rolled back even more and he could feel your muscles relax against his body. His fingers massaging your scalp and running through your hair drew a moan from you that was definitely not situationally appropriate, but you were too worn out at this point to care or even notice. Steve tried his hardest not to fixate on it, not to think about those sounds spilling from your lips. Now was not the time.

He shook himself out of it and rinsed the shampoo out before moving on to conditioner. Just like with the shampoo, he slowly and deliberately worked the conditioner through your hair, making sure to massage your scalp and coat your hair evenly. Once again he tried not to focus on the blissed out expression on your face, tried not to imagine any other context in which your head would fall back like that, lips slightly parted, sighs of pleasure sitting so beautifully upon them. After rinsing that out, he moved on to body wash. He took this time to savor every part of you, especially the ones he had never seen before. He ran his hands over your impossibly soft skin, and acquainted himself with every inch of it. He placed kisses on your shoulders before running his soapy hands over them, he paused with his hands on your waist, admiring how well they fit there, like they were exactly where they belonged. Your mind may have been too foggy with exhaustion to realize it at the time, but god dammit, Steve Rogers was worshipping every single piece of your body. You sighed as he ran his hands all the way up your stomach and your chest before placing a gentle kiss on your neck.

With your eyes closed and your weight resting on Steve’s chest behind you, you felt more at ease than you had in months. He planted another kiss on your neck, sucking gently and you let out a little moan followed by a breathy “Oh Steve.” That drew a groaning sound from somewhere deep in his throat and turned you around so he could kiss you again. He kept one stabilizing arm around your waist, keeping your body pressed up against his, while his other hand cradled your cheek like you were the most precious thing in the world to him, and in that moment he was almost certain that you were. The kiss was passionate and full of desire but still gentle and tender. Like you were the most beautiful, fragile thing in existence and Steve just needed to hold you close but he was afraid you could shatter at any second beneath his touch.

Without breaking the kiss, he reached back and turned off the water, feeling almost guilty when you began to shiver in his arms. He quickly reached out of the shower and grabbed a towel, which he used to gently dry you off before wrapping it around your body tightly. He grabbed another towel and wrapped that around his waist. Then, without warning, he scooped you up in his arms bridal style, which caused you to squeal in surprise. You clung to him tightly, with your arms around his neck, despite the fact that you knew Steve would never let you fall. He brought you into your room and laid you down gingerly on the bed. You whimpered at the loss of contact and he smiled.

“Just a second doll, I’ll be right back.” He came back into the room with both of your clothes. He put your sweaty workout gear in your hamper and put his boxers on after laying the rest of his clothes on your bed. “I can grab you something from your closet if you’d like, you’d have to tell me where to look but I’m sure I can-” he turned to see you already pulling his shirt on over your head. Once you had it on you laid back down and just breathed in his scent. He watched the way you curled up in his shirt, content smile on your lips as you surrounded yourself with him and he felt his lungs empty completely. He never thought he would see something like this in person, he had resigned it to nothing more than fantasy, and yet here you were. He slid into bed slowly, as if rushing would break the spell and destroy this beautiful illusion all around him. But as he laid down next to you, nothing fell apart. Instead, you simply curled up against his body, laying your head on his chest, tangling your legs with his. You let out a tiny contented sigh as Steve wrapped one arm around your back and waist to keep you close, and used the other to gently play with your hair. It took mere seconds for your breathing to even out and Steve could tell you were asleep. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and smiled as you snuggled in even closer to him, leaning into his touch. With his arms around you and the sweet smell of your shampoo and your body wash overtaking him, Steve could feel his own eyelids getting heavy. As he began to drift off to sleep he couldn’t help but think to himself, yeah I could get used to this.

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olivarryprompts · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

#peter parker field trip #irondad #ironfam #iron man #tony stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #mcu fanfic #bucky barnes #domestic avengers

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

To Be Trusted

read on Ao3

Bucky witnesses Sam having a nightmare. He does his best to help.

Warm water gently rolls down his knuckles as he scrubs at a plate, handing it to Sarah, who runs a towel over it. “Thanks for helpin’ with the dishes,” she says, and he smiles, turning off the faucet.

“Least I can do. You’re letting me sleep on your couch.”

“Bucky Barnes, you are always welcome here, and don’t you forget it.” Waving the towel at him accusingly, she smiles as he laughs, hanging it over the faucet to dry. “It’s nice to have an extra pair of hands around here. Especially tonight, since Sam decided to go to bed early like an old man.” She pauses. “No offense.”

Smirking, he shakes his head. “None taken.”

Sam had been tired out after the Flagsmashers excitement, and neither of them could blame him. But Sarah was his sister, so of course she was still going to tease him for it. “Speaking of which, it’s probably about time I went to bed, too. I’m supposed to be takin’ the kids to Gloria’s in the morning. You and Sam can do your training or whatever it is you Avengers do.”

Bucky smirks again, sticking his hands in his pockets. “We’ll try to make ourselves useful.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She pats his shoulder with a wink, then heads toward the stairs. “Good night. Get some sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, watching her go with another smile. “Good night, Sarah.” She waves, and then he’s standing alone.

Giving the kitchen a once-over, he turns to turn off the lights, stretching his arms above his head. Even though it’s dark in the house, with the only source of light being the moon peeking through the window curtains, he doesn’t feel that sense of dread he used to when he lived in that apartment on his own. Things are so different here with the Wilsons, and he doesn’t think he would ever be able to express just how much that means to him.

He’s pretty tired from everything that happened, too, but he’s so used to powering though that it’s a strange feeling to actually want to sleep. But this house, and that small, worn couch he sleeps on, makes him feel safe. Like his memories can’t reach him here, because he’s busy making new ones.

And right now, the couch looks pretty inviting.

But first, he quietly heads down the hall. The boys’ shared room as well as Sarah’s is upstairs, but Sam’s is right across from the bathroom. And Bucky glances toward the closed door as he passes, wondering how Sam must be feeling. He’s finally accepted the mantle, but surely he must have a lot of pressure on his shoulders; yet, he’s been handling it all with grace. Bucky couldn’t be more proud to call him his friend...and partner.

He changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants and exits the bathroom, standing there in the hallway for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dark. He’s about to continue walking when his ears pick up a quiet noise coming from behind Sam’s closed door. Bucky’s not one to eavesdrop (unless it’s for a mission), but his curiosity - and concern - is peaked. He steps up to the door, straining to hear something further. It sort of sounds like he’s talking to someone under his breath. “Sam?” he calls cautiously, waiting to hear a response. He doesn’t get one, and the noise continues.

His gaze slides down toward the doorknob, and he can’t help but hesitate. He has this feeling of dread building up in his chest, because he’s pretty sure he knows what’s going to be waiting for him on the other side of the door. He knows because he deals with it all the time. Not as frequently since he began staying with the Wilsons, but still there. And he doesn’t want to have to see Sam like that. But he knows if it were him, Sam would come to his aid, and so the choice is simple. Metal fingers curl around the doorknob quietly, and he pushes it open softly.

The room is almost completely dark, save for the moonlight that streams through his window. Sam is on his back, legs tangled up within the blankets, his face twisted up in pain. His head jerks back and forth, incoherent mumbles escaping through parted lips, body tense and rigid.

Bucky stands there for a moment, his heart aching. It’s exactly what he was expecting, but it still hurts to see Sam so distressed. He’ll be damned if he makes him suffer any longer than he already has. Stepping forward, he places his right hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam, hey. C’mon, pal.” It takes a moment, but the words work. Sam’s eyes fly open and he sits up straight, gasping loudly. Bucky moves to stand in front of him right away, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s alright. You were dreaming. You’re safe.”

Sam’s bare chest rises and falls quickly with each shallow breath, glazed eyes barely blinking, staring at Bucky but not really seeing him. And then his gaze slides upward, and they make eye contact. “Bucky?” he breathes, voice broken, a sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

Just his name on the other’s lips breaks Bucky’s heart. He wonders what it is, but thinking on it for just a moment makes the answer become clear. Sam is always put-together, incredibly strong and brave, a good head on his shoulders. Seeing him like this just hurts, and Bucky almost doesn’t know what to do. But he recovers as quickly as he can, offering a sad smile and moving to sit on the end of the bed.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he says, keeping his hand on Sam’s shoulder to ground him. “Take some deep breaths, Sam. You’re gonna be okay.”

His eyes fall closed again as he tries to steady his breathing, unconsciously leaning in to the touch. Bucky continues to coax him, knowing it’s what Sam would do for him. It’s nice to be looked after when these things happen; and he’s glad he can be there for Sam this time.

A few long minutes pass. It’s a slow, gradual process, but Sam’s breaths are soon evened out. He opens his eyes again, letting out a quiet breath. “Thanks, Buck,” he mumbles, and it’s genuine. Under normal circumstances, Sam would almost definitely make some smart comment, but now isn’t the time. Bucky nods, slowly letting go of the other’s shoulder.

“You’d do the same for me.” It’s certain, he has no doubt in his mind. Sam is calm now, but he doesn’t look much better than he had a few minutes ago. So Bucky shifts his weight a little. “You wanna talk about it?”

Sam exhales slowly, looking toward the window. “...It’s been a while since I thought about him.”

Bucky frowns, face betraying his confusion. “Who?”

“Riley. My wingman.” He releases another shaky breath. “We were partners when I was in the force. There was nothing I could do to save him. Was just up there to...watch it all happen.” His shoulders sag a little, and he lets out a humorless chuckle. “He’d hate to see me like this. Tell me to get my head outta my ass and keep moving forward.”

Sighing quietly, Bucky offers a small, sad smile. “Sounds like a pretty good guy.”

Sam eyes him for a moment. “You two would have gotten along. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.” Quiet falls between them. Bucky wracks his brain to try to find something else to say. Something to make Sam feel better.

All he can do is lift an arm. “You want a hug or something?”

Under normal circumstances, Sam would most likely laugh at him for even suggesting such a thing, probably assuming that the other was joking in the first place. But he doesn’t laugh, he just stares for a moment, and then he leans forward, resting his cheek on Bucky’s shoulder, much to the latter’s surprise. “If you say anythin’ about this, I’ll kill you,” Sam mumbles, but the threat is empty.

Swallowing, Bucky’s heart skips a beat and he smiles a bit, wrapping his arms around the other. “What, me? Tease you? Never.” If anything, he’s just grateful Sam hasn’t started crying. He has no idea what to do in those types of situations. But this? He can definitely do this. It’s been a long time since he’s embraced someone so fully, but he finds himself glad that it’s Sam who ended up being first after so much time had passed.

He’s warm, and Bucky passes the time by watching Sam’s back rise and fall, much more even than it had been before. He can see the curve of his spine, the muscles relaxed along them, outlined thanks to the pale moonlight. And what a strange situation Bucky is in, he thinks, holding the man who once tried to kill him so gently, hoping that the nightmares that plague him will leave.

Bucky can deal with his own dreams. He doesn’t think he can take knowing that Sam also has to suffer.

It’s been quiet for awhile, so Bucky glances down. “Sam? Maybe you should try to get some more rest. It’s gettin’ late.” There’s no response. He shifts a little, trying to get a look at his face, brows knit together. “Sam?”

He can’t see it too clearly, but he knows by the silence that his friend has now fallen asleep on his shoulder. Somehow. Heat creeps up Bucky’s neck and toward his cheeks and ears, grateful for both the darkness and the fact that Sam can’t see it. He’s not sure why he feels so...warm. Sam trusted him enough, felt safe enough against Bucky that he was able to forget his terrible memory and rest again. And Bucky...doesn’t remember what that was like. To be trusted so fully when for so long, he couldn’t even trust himself.

Slowly, he releases his embrace, taking Sam’s shoulders gently. Maneuvering carefully, supporting his head, he pushes him back to lay against the pillows. Much to Bucky’s surprise, Sam doesn’t stir. His face is a big contrast to what Bucky had found earlier; his jaw is slack, his brows are relaxed, and he looks at peace. Bucky can’t help but stare for a few moments. Under the pale moon, Sam has finally found restful sleep, thanks to Bucky. And Bucky looks on with a fond smile.

After what seems like hours, he moves to pull the blankets over Sam’s chest, who mumbles something under his breath before falling silent again. “Just needed a hug, huh, pal?” he whispers, smiling a little to himself in the way he’d never be caught dead doing if Sam could see him. “You big softie.” Of course, he knows he’s a hypocrite, but he doesn’t really mind much.

Finally, he rises from the edge of the bed, walking toward the door. He knows Sam would rather die than talk about what happened come morning, but Bucky’s okay with that. He doesn’t mind keeping it a secret for him. Glancing over his shoulder once more, he smiles again. “Good night, Sam.”

And with that, he leaves the room quietly, heading to the couch, and falls into a dreamless sleep.

When he wakes in the morning, the blanket is thrown over him and a cup of coffee is already poured on the table. A single sticky note reads, “Thanks.” And Bucky grins, getting up to grab the cup and head out the door toward the boat, where he knows Sam will be waiting for him.

#marvel #mcu #tfatws #sambucky #the falcon and the winter soldier #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #not me writing MARVEL #gross I hate myself #nothing but respect for my cap tho #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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cyllaeth · 3 years

Text

hereafter

Hi! It's me again! Your self-proclaimed writer who just can't stop writing about Buddie. This time I offer you angst before the s4 finale ;)

Find it on ao3

Nonono.

This canʼt be happening.

Buck barely even registers it when heʼs brutally pushed by Eddie. He wants to ask him what the actual fuck but he doesnʼt have a chance. It all happens so quickly. He hears a gunshot and—

His heart stops. His world shatters beneath him as he sees in a slow motion that the bullet reaches his friend and Eddie is collapsing, his expression stuck between pain, fear and something else, something Buck canʼt describe. Thereʼs a dark red patch blooming on his uniform in his chest.

Nonono.

This canʼt be happening.

Buck realises with horror that he canʼt move, heʼs like petrified and his body just refused to work. He canʼt even make a sound even if heʼs literally screaming in his mind.

He desperately tries to force his legs to move, to run to Eddie, try to help him, not let him die.

He canʼt die.

He canʼt die, he canʼt leave him alone, he canʼt die not knowing that Buck loves him—that heʼs in love with him. He canʼt leave Christopher, he canʼt do it to this poor kid that has already lost his mother.

Buckʼs vision blurs and he feels tears streaming down his cheeks but he doesnʼt even try to wipe them out.

Nonono. Eddiepleasedontdie.

He falls on his knees, not noticing that the hard concrete is causing him pain. The only thing heʼs focused on right now is Eddieʼs closed eyes, shallow breaths and the pool of blood around him slowly spreading.

He wants to help him, save him from bleeding out but his hands are trembling so much, heʼs not able to do anything. He knows he should focus, push away all the negative thoughts but he canʼt. Heʼs never been more scared and panicked in his life. Heʼs never been so paralysed with fear that it actually prevents him from doing his job. It has never happened before. He canʼt do anything and his best friend is bleeding out right next to him.

He barely hears the sound of another gunshot. Then, he feels burning pain in his arm but he ignores it, he doesnʼt really care if he got shot. Itʼs nothing compared to the dreadful feeling like his heart was ripped out from his chest. Or rather, gouged out with something blunt.

Eddiepleasedontdie.

He doesnʼt notice his coworkers rushing to them to help them, he doesnʼt hear Athenaʼs shouting, the sound of sirens around them, he doesnʼt really feel Bobbyʼs gentle touch on his non-injured arm.

“Buck”, tries Bobby but thereʼs no reaction. He doesnʼt want to do anything sudden, he doesnʼt want to scare him more than he already is.

“Evan”, he tries again.

This time it works. Buck tears his gaze away from Eddie whoʼs already taken care of by Hen and Chim and looks at his Captain.

“Buck, youʼre hurt. We have to check you out. Can you move?”

His voice is filled with so much worry, it makes Buck weep even more.

“Iʼm okay”, he hardly whispers because the lump in his throat doesnʼt let go.

“No, youʼre not. I know youʼre worried about Eddie but heʼs in good hands. Heʼs strong, heʼll get through this. Letʼs go.”

He helps him stand on his feet and wraps his arm around his waist to keep him standing because Buckʼs legs are still like jelly. Slowly, they reach out the paramedicsʼ truck and Buck is examined by another team. They say he got lucky because the bullet only grazed his arm and his recovery will be quick.

He doesnʼt feel lucky at all. How can he? His best friend is a few feet apart from him, fighting for his life. Friend who has a son waiting for him at home. Friend who never should have been shot. It was supposed to be Buck. The sniper was aiming at him, not at Eddie. He was supposed to be lying on the ground with a bullet in his chest. But Eddie—his usually careful, cautious Eddie—did a very reckless thing and saved his life. Knowing that his best friend noticed the sniper and pushed him to protect him makes him physically sick. The guilt is consuming him because he wasnʼt worth saving. Not that much anyway. Eddie has a loving family, a son, a girlfriend and Buck... Buck is just a friend. Not someone who canʼt be replaced.

Eddiepleasedontdie.

His hands are still trembling when theyʼre heading to the hospital Eddie was taken. Bobbyʼs there with him; he doesnʼt speak, doesnʼt try to find some clichéd words; he suspects that they wouldnʼt work anyway because Buck is too lost in his own head. Bobby just reaches to his hands and covers them with his own to keep them more steady.

They arrive at the hospital and find out Eddie already has a surgery.

He canʼt die.

That clean, sterile smell of hospital makes Buck even more sick. Heʼs been there enough times, both as a visitor and as a patient. He hates hospitals and he knows heʼs gonna spend there next few hours—or days. He doesnʼt know how he will survive this, how he will get through Eddieʼs surgery. What will he tell Chris? Carla? Abuela? That Eddie got shot because of him? His brain immediately takes him back to the day when he lost Chris in the tsunami and he tried to tell Eddie. It was one of the worst moments of his life and now it seems like he will be forced to do it again—only this time to tell Christopher which makes everything worse. He needs to stop bringing the Diaz boys such awful news. He should call Carla, tell her what happened, make sure she can stay with him longer than she was supposed to, tell him the truth but he canʼt even hold his phone. Itʼs Hen who does it for him. She calls Carla, she tells her about Eddie, about Buck, about the whole situation and promises sheʼll keep her updated.

Buckʼs grateful for that but he still feels guilty that he wasnʼt the one to share the news. It was supposed to be him but he was too weak to do it.

“Buckaroo.”

Thereʼs a gentle pat on his back, big, warm Henʼs eyes filled with love and a sad smile on her lips.

“You canʼt keep blaming yourself. It was not your fault and everybody knows that. Eddie knows that and he wonʼt be angry at you when he wakes up after surgery. Besides, you would have done the same thing for him. But Iʼm pretty sure if you were the one shot, we would have to restrain Eddie from barging into the police station and killing the sniper with his bare hands.”

Buck lets out a quick, humourless laugh because heʼs not sure Eddie wouldʼve done such thing. Oh, he knows that Eddie cares about him, he knows that heʼs a part of the Diaz family but at the end of the day, heʼs still just a friend. He wouldnʼt be that reckless.

And yet, he decided to put his life at risk for him.

He canʼt die.

Buck has never been a religious type but after two hours in the hospital, he starts to pray. He knows that surgeries can take hours, especially if you have a patient with a bullet in his chest but panic starts to take over him and he canʼt stop it, itʼs stronger than him. What if Eddie doesnʼt make it?

No.

He canʼt think like that. Itʼs not his first time heʼd been shot, he was in Afghanistan, he was almost buried alive, whatʼs a one bullet for him?

He has to fight for his family.

Next few hours blur into never-ending waiting. Buck feels more and more exhausted, the pain in his injured arm is nagging him but he refuses to take pills that could help him ease the ache and lull him to sleep. He will do it, eventually. As soon as heʼs sure Eddieʼs alive and safe, he can rest. Otherwise, heʼll keep vigil. He can do it. Maddie and Athena paid them a quick visit—they brought them coffee, donuts and fresh clothes. Both women talk with Buck and try to reassure him. Athena also scolds him for getting shot and she pulls him into a hug because clearly the whole situation took a toll on her and sheʼs as worried about both Buck and Eddie as much as her husband. Her presence actually helps Buck a little and heʼs calmer than before. He even manages to drink his coffee and he doesnʼt feel like throwing up and he counts it as a success.

After what it feels like an eternity, the doctor finally goes to their room. His expression is unreadable.

“Is there Evan Buckley?”

Buck raises his head sharply because itʼs not something he has expected.

“Y-Yeah. Itʼs me”, he says hesitantly. He really hasnʼt expected to be Eddieʼs emergency contact even though he knows itʼs very reasonable. “Is he...?”

“He is alive and stable, heʼs lucky because the bullet missed the most important organs and he will get through this but he needs to rest. Heʼs sleeping now but you can visit him now. One person at the time.”

Buck lets out a long, deep breath; he didnʼt even realize he was holding it during the doctorʼs speech. The guilt is still there but the weight that has been crushing his chest is definitely lighter.

Eddieʼs alive.

“Go, Buckaroo. Go see him”, encourages him Chim, smiling softly and nudging him in the right direction.

Buckʼs very unsure and tentative but he goes to Eddieʼs room anyway. Seeing him so vulnerable makes him want to cry again. He has never seen him in a bad state like this. Heʼs never seen Eddie being so close to death—not even when he was buried in that well.

He sits on the edge of the bed and squeezes his hand gently. He knows Eddieʼs sleeping so he feels comfortable with doing this. His cheeks are wet again; he didnʼt notice heʼs crying again. All of the emotions he has felt in the last few hours are piling up in his chest and he has to let them out. Heʼs still worried, he still feels guilty but knowing that his best friend is alive, that heʼs gonna get through is soothing. He thinks about how happy Christopher will be and that heʼs probably eager to go to the hospital and take care of his dad. Heʼs relieved that he doesnʼt have to bring him bad news.

Everythingʼs gonna be okay.

He lets the rest of the team see Eddie; he gently refuses Bobbyʼs offer to take him home. Heʼs not ready to go back to his apartment, he needs to stay, be there when his best friend wakes up. Bobbyʼs not happy with his decision because he sees how exhausted Buck is but he doesnʼt argue with him. He only tells him to call when Eddie wakes up. Buck agrees and he settles on the chair next to Eddieʼs bed.

Heʼs alive.

He falls asleep somehow, even though he was sure he wouldnʼt be able to. His sleep is not deep though because he immediately wakes up when he hears a shift on the bed. Eddieʼs eyes are open and he looks a little bit confused.

“Hey, Eds. Itʼs okay. Youʼre in the hospital, you got shot. Iʼm gonna call the doctor now, okay? Iʼll bring you some water”, says Buck. He doesnʼt even let him say a word, he doesnʼt know if heʼs ready to hear what Eddie has to say. Heʼs not ready because the guilt is still there, it doesnʼt let him forget even just for a moment. He calls the doctor and stays back when the man checks Eddie and talks with him. Heʼs even ready to sneak off like a true coward but Eddie must sense it before it happens.

“Buck.”

That one word is all it takes to make him stay. When the doctor goes out, smiling warmly at Buck, the blonde sits again on the chair very hesitantly. He keeps his head down because heʼs not sure heʼs able to look him in the eye.

“Unbelievable”, he hears Eddieʼs voice. It sounds weaker than usually but he can still detect a hint of amusement and teasing. “I took a bullet for you and you still got shot.”

“Sorry”, mumbles Buck, still not raising his head. “I didnʼt really think about it when I saw you on the ground. Besides, itʼs nothing. The bullet just nipped my arm. Although it should have been me with a bullet in the chest.”

“Buck, look at me”, Eddieʼs voice is now pleading and Buck finally looks at his best friend. Eddie has a small smile on his lips and he reaches out to take his hand and intertwine their fingers. “I would do it again if it meant that youʼre alive and safe. Iʼm glad youʼre alive and safe, but I wonder if I should be mad at you for being careless. I wouldnʼt want to wake up and find out that youʼre fighting for his life or youʼre dead. Weʼre not Romeo and Juliet so no dying, okay?”

“Said the dude who was literally fighting for his life a few hours ago”, points out Buck. His eyes are fixated on their intertwined hands; he was surprised by Eddieʼs gesture and he hopes heʼs not misreading this.

“Again, Iʼm fine with it. I would definitely do it again to keep you safe. Iʼm not blaming you for this.”

Buck should have known that Eddie would reassure him, tell him itʼs not his fault. He knows him so well, probably sometimes even better than Buck knows himself.

“It still feels like my fault. Eddie, you have to be more careful, you have to think about people who love you, people you love because—”

“Who says I wasnʼt thinking about people I love?”, interrupts Eddie.

“Then why did you do it? Why did you do it thinking about Chris, your family, Ana—”

“For Godʼs sake”, Eddie interrupts him again, now with a very exasperated look. “Because I love you too, you dumbass.”

Buckʼs heart stops again. It feels better this time, though.

“You... Love me?”

“Yes, I love you. Although I should probably make this clearer for you... Iʼm in love with you. So yes, I was thinking about you and I wouldnʼt forgive myself if I lost you. But youʼre here and I couldnʼt be more happy.”

“I love you too”, says Buck simply and then, heʼs just grinning because itʼs the most beautiful thing heʼs ever heard and his awful day just turned into one of his best.

“So is there a chance that youʼll take care of me when I go back home?”, asks Eddie, doing puppy eyes because he knows Buck wonʼt say no. “You know, I did take a bullet for love so I think Iʼve earned it.”

“Oh my God, I’m never gonna see the end of it, am I?”

“Never.”

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #buddie fic #buddie ficlet #911 spoilers #911 s4 spoilers #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Ocean Currents

A/N: Trying out a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting in which “Person A doesn’t want to be rescued by Person B, because they’re a lifeguard themself, but at a swimming pool and to tell a fellow colleague that they misjudged the pull of the ocean is just too embarrassing” with a few tweaks.

Word Count: 1.7k

And away, and away we go!

Eyes hidden behind your sunglasses, you carefully watched the group of friends set up camp just to the left of where you were stationed. You didn’t let your gaze linger long, quickly sweeping it across the rest of the beach, but there wasn’t much to see. The water was extra choppy today, evidence of a storm expected to roll in in the next few days, so most families had cleared out hours ago, leaving just the most adventurous of surfers, most of whom were regulars you recognized.

But this new group wasn’t here to surf as out of all their belongings, there wasn’t a single surfboard. Friends looking to soak up some rays and frolic around in the shallows, you hoped, and with enough in their group, you weren’t expecting too much trouble. Until one of the men pulled off his shirt to lather himself in sunscreen. Broad and well-defined muscles in his back and shoulders you recognized as the trademark of a swimmer. Swimmers, you had come to learn, were fucking idiots. Overconfident in their abilities and a complete disregard for understanding that pools and oceans were vastly different beasts. Almost as dangerous as the negligent parent to a wandering small child with their sneered “Isn’t it your job to watch them as a lifeguard?” as if this was the local community pool rather than the literal fucking ocean.

Thankfully the idiotic parents had left for the safer waters of those said community pools, off to antagonize some other lifeguard, who was probably just some high school or college kid hoping to pick up girls and make a couple bucks. Leaving just the surfers, you, and Swimmer Boy and his friends. Well… at least he and his friends were easy on the eyes, each one looking like they belonged on the cover of a magazine. You actually laughed to yourself, deciding you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if a camera came out and a photoshoot ensued.

“Beautiful day out, ain’t it?” someone asked, and you turned to find Swimmer Boy staring up at you, shielding his eyes from the sun with one of his hands, giving you a nice view of the tattoos that decorated his skin.

“Always is right before a storm,” you replied.

“Oh, it’s supposed to storm? Damn…”

“Not today,” you assured him. “It’s a few days out.”

“Feel it in your bones?” he laughed, dimples indenting his cheeks.

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned. “Do this long enough and you learn to notice the patterns, that’s all.”

“I see. Well, I’m Ashton, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

He opened his mouth to keep making conversation, but one of his friends came running up behind him, clapping his shoulder. “Stop flirting with the lifeguard, and let’s go! Hey, I’m Cal. Did this idiot at least tell you his name?”

You laughed as Ashton’s cheeks colored and he muttered something under his breath. “Nice to meet you both. Careful out there, alright?”

“If we’re careful, then you can’t rescue us,” Cal winked at you, walking backwards back towards the main group.

“Calum!” Ashton scolded, his cheeks now brick-red. “Sorry about him,” he offered you a quick apology before dashing off himself.

“Men…” you chuckled to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, some of the surfers had called it quits for the day, but Ashton and his friends were still in the water, getting pushed around by the waves, the water only about up to mid-thigh. Nothing alert worthy, but still you kept a watchful eye, especially when the girls retreated back to their spot, and the boys waded further in, the water now striking just above the hem of their swim trunks. “Hey!” you called down to the girls, who turned their heads towards you. “Just a heads up, but your buddies probably shouldn’t go out much further than that.”

“Oh, thank you!” one of them smiled, while the other whistled loudly to get the boys’ attention, waving her hand at throat level in a “No more,” gesture, getting a thumbs up in response. Then a, “Wait… Do you see Ash?”

“No… Michael! Where’s Ash?!”

A blonde cocked his head to the side, then spun around in the water, mouthing something to the other two with him, Swimmer Boy Ashton lost in the shuffle somewhere.

“Son of a bitch…” you muttered, hopping down from your station and breaking into a run towards the water, the girls’ screams of “Ashton!” morphing with the boys’ cries of “Ash, this isn’t funny!”

You splashed your way into the ocean, the water hitting you square in the chest by the time you reached the three men. With the next wave, you ducked under water, letting the current pull you, the salt water burning your eyes as you forced them open, looking for Ashton.

You popped to the surface in a break between waves, scanning frantically for the man, finally spotting a splash and a hollered “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Stop fighting against it!” you scolded. “Try to find the bottom, or let yourself float! Fighting’s gonna exhaust you! I’m coming, just hang on, and stop fighting!”

“I’m fucking trying! But it keeps pulling me!”

“Yeah, that’s the current! Here, grab this!” You threw the life preserver towards him.

“Ow!” he yelled at you as it bounced off his arm.

“Oh, shut up and hang on!”

You watched as he wrapped his arm around the life preserver. “Now what?!” he sputtered, wiping at his face with his free hand.

“Now, we use the waves to push us back to shore. Kick. Hard!”

“This is so fuckin’ embarrassing…” he groaned as a wave helped carry you guys back a little ways.

“Swim to the left,” you directed, feeling the pull of the current. “Parallel to the shore.”

“Okay, I feel sand. I can stand. I got it from here.”

“Cool. Some of us aren’t as vertically gifted, and in case you forgot, I’m trying to save your ass.”

“Mission accomplished,” he grumbled, still keeping pace next to you, as your own foot connected with sand.

“What happened?” you asked, as you started walking up the surf with him, the life preserver hanging rather uselessly from his arm.

“I got knocked off my feet. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?!” you screeched, gesturing between the two of you and up at his friends who all stood a hundred feet away on the shoreline, worry written across each of their faces.

“Well I wasn’t expecting to get sucked out!”

“It’s the fucking ocean!”

“Real professional, berating your victim. You scold the five year olds too?”

“Nope. Just the twenty-five year old man child who thinks he knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m twenty-seven for one thing. And for another, I’m not a know-it-all.”

“Could have fooled me. Fighting against a fucking current… Rookie mistake.”

“I misjudged it, okay?!”

“Just admit you have no experience in the ocean, pool boy!”

“Pool boy?!”

“You’re a swimmer, are you not?”

“I used to be…”

“And I’d bet good money that you misjudged your own swimming abilities, didn’t you?”

Ashton narrowed his eyes, growling low in his throat, and you knew you were right. “Fine, I made a stupid mistake. Happy now?!”

“No! Look, just do me a favor and don’t go out in the water higher than your shorts, okay? Better yet, call it a day like everyone else was smart enough to do.” With that, you yanked the life preserver from his arm, and stalked off back to your station, pausing by his friends to give a clipped, “He’s fine. Stupid. But fine.”

“Mate, if you wanted to flirt with the lifeguard, there were probably better ways,” one of them, Calum, you remembered the voice, joked lightheartedly.

“I wasn’t flirting!”

“I thought you were a swimmer…” one of the blondes wondered aloud.

“And weren’t you also a lifeguard?” the other blonde inquired.

“It was an accident!” Ashton hissed through his teeth, accepting the towel one of the girls offered, wrapping it around his shoulders and trudging up the beach. His friends shared a glance, shrugged their shoulders, then followed Ashton at a few paces behind.

You tried not to laugh as Ashton sat down in the sand in a huff, still intent on pouting about his misfortune while his friends started to pack everything up. After about ten minutes of sulking, and a whispered conversation you couldn’t make out, he stood up and walked over to stand under your station. When you didn’t acknowledge his presence, he cleared his throat loudly. “Scuse me?”

“Yeah?”

“I was reminded I’m supposed to be a man with manners. So, um… thanks.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have had to if I hadn’t made a dumbass mistake.”

“And which dumbass mistake would that be? Underestimating the ocean, or panicking when it started to kick your ass?”

“Make that two dumbass mistakes…”

You laughed. “You’d be surprised how often that happens. It’s no swimming pool, that’s for sure. And brains have this nifty way of shutting down at the worst times.”

“Still doesn’t stop me from being completely embarrassed. And unfortunately when I get embarrassed I act like a cunt. You were just doing your job. Sorry if I made that more difficult than it needed to be.”

“I could tell you at least 10 more difficult cases that would make your head spin.”

He winced in sympathy for you. “Well, thanks again. And sorry.” He gave you a small awkward wave before turning to walk off.

“No worries,” you called out to his back. “But, hey.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.

“What your friend said earlier. You seriously didn’t pull the ‘fake drowning to flirt with the lifeguard’ bit, did you?”

He laughed, giving a shake of his head. “Nah. Wasn’t a flirting bit. Just a dumbass bit.”

“Good. Cuz you know that doesn’t actually work, right?”

“Mmm, and what about asking you to dinner as an apology? Does that flirting bit work?”

“I dunno. I guess you would have to ask and find out.”

“Can I take you to dinner to make up for you having to rescue a dumbass who should have known better?”

You glanced at the clock in your station. “Meet you at the pier in a half hour?”

Ashton grinned.

Tag List

@aquarius-hood1996 @creator-appreciator @philthepegacorn @myfavfanficsever @cxddlyash @youngblood199456 @stormrider505 @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @hoodhoran @metalandboybands @maybeememez @kaitieskidmore1 @wiiildflowerrr @heartskippeddabeat

#ocean currents #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin x reader #lifeguard!reader #5sos #calpal irwin

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mymoonagedaydream · 3 years

Text

Home (Part 2)

Summary: As you got closer to Bucky again, some kind of emotional crescendo was inevitable.

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Language

Author’s Note: I got one more part after this, so let’s call it a mini-series

---

You slept in the next morning, getting out of bed only to traipse down to the living room and lounge around in your pyjamas on the couch for the rest of the day.

It was the holidays- you were allowed to be disgustingly lazy if you wanted.

Evening came around before you knew it, the smell of your mother’s cooking filling up the house as you stared dead-eyed at the Hallmark Channel, all the white couples wearing red and green sweaters slowly blurring into one.

You were only awoken from your hypnosis by your dad leaning over the back of the couch, jingling some car keys at you.

‘I need to take your mother’s death-trap to Barnes’, you wanna come along?’

‘Really?’ You frowned, eyes darting to the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘It’s almost seven, surely they’re closed?’

‘They are, but Bucky offered to work on it out of hours.’

You gave an impressed nod, adopting your best impression of your mother. ‘What a nice young man he is.’

‘You know it, skip.’

He grinned as you hoisted yourself up from the couch and shoved a coat over your pyjamas, figuring that getting dressed this late in the evening would just be an absolute waste of time.

The two of you hopped in the car, both cringing at the metallic scraping sound the engine made when your dad turned the key.

After a tense few death-defying minutes, you finally pulled up at the workshop. Your dad honked the horn and the shutter door began to rise, slowly revealing what you could only deduce to be an extra from the music video for Uptown Girl.

Oh wait, no, it was just Bucky.

His choice to sport a tank top mid-December was definitely a bold one, but Jesus fucking Christ you weren’t complaining. Glistening with sweat and covered in grease stains, he looked like a page from a raunchy calendar hung up in an office full of middle-aged spinsters.

He waved the car in, greeting your dad with some kind of bro-hug ordeal that immediately confused the hell out of you.

Those two were buds now? What else had you missed?

‘Hey, Lilypad.’ Bucky looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow at the plaid pyjama pants peeking out from underneath your coat. ‘Nice outfit.’

‘Thought I’d make a bit of an effort.’

‘For little old me? You shouldn’t have.’

You gave him a playful shove on the shoulder as you strolled past, taking yourself for a little tour of the shop floor while he started searching under the bonnet.

The place was surprisingly neat and tidy, you were quite impressed. The only questionable thing you found was a scantily clad centrefold torn out of a magazine and pinned to the corkboard, upon which some comedian had scribbled the words ‘Bucky’s girlfriend’.

You’d be having words about that.

Completing your journey, you re-joined the boys just in time to see your dad reach his wallet from his back pocket and wave it towards Bucky.

‘How much?’

‘You're joking, right?’

‘Let me give you something. I insist.’

Bucky chuckled, pulling a dirty rag from his pocket and roughly wiping his hands. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’ll be ready in the morning.’

‘Ah, you’re one of the good ones Buck.’ Your dad clapped him on the shoulder before turning to you. ‘Come on then, squirt. Dinner should be almost ready.’

For some reason, you found yourself very reluctant to leave. Jesus, you’d actually prefer to spend the rest of the evening in this cold, halogen-lit grease pool with budget Billy Joel than at home in front of a warm fire. That boy had magical powers or some shit.

‘I don’t mind sticking around, if you want?’ Bucky shot you a slightly confused frown. ‘I could go out and pick us up some food.’

‘You sure? Passing up your mom’s cooking for this place seems crazy.’

‘Least I can do, we’ll count the company as payment.’

His frown slowly melted into a warm smile. ‘Sounds great.’

You looked back at your dad, who was absolutely beaming, eyes flicking between the two of you like he was at Wimbledon. His excitement was sweet, but you knew he was only invested in your relationship because it had the potential to give him a lifetime of free car repairs.

‘Well, you kids have fun.’

After loitering around for a few minutes, you eventually headed out to pick up dinner from a nearby takeout. It was freezing and your pyjamas got pretty soggy, but your good mood didn’t waver for a second. You were really excited to have an evening alone with Bucky.

When you got back, he’d ferreted out some old car seats for the two of you to sit on while you ate.

‘So I saw the photo of your girlfriend hanging up back there.’

‘Oh, that’s just a stupid joke.’ He immediately went bright red, tripping over his words a little. ‘The guys here keep trying to set me up on dates but I always say no, so they found me a “paper girlfriend” instead.’

‘Maybe they’d leave you alone if you sucked it up and just gave it a try.’

‘I think you’d take that back if you’d seen some of these women.’

You raised your eyebrows at him. ‘Never had you down as shallow, Barnes.’

‘Oh, c’mon. I’m not I just-’ He chuckled slightly when he realised you weren’t being serious, eyes flicking back down to his food. ‘I have a pretty specific type.’

‘Maybe too specific?’

‘You could say that, yeah.’

There was that weird atmosphere again, it kept creeping up on you at the most inconvenient times.

You just changed the subject.

Once you’d both finished eating, you watched him work for a while, quickly flicking your eyes away from his bare arms every time he looked up but definitely getting caught a few times. Oh well.

It must’ve been getting close to midnight when you started dozing off, full to the brim with junk food and warmed up by the space heater Bucky had pointed in your direction. You were almost completely asleep when you felt him softly shaking your shoulder.

‘Home time, Lilypad. You need a ride?’

You peeled your eyes open, yawning as you stumbled to your feet. ‘Ugh, that’d be great. Did you drive here?’

‘Nope.’ He turned around and crouched down a little. ‘Hop on.’

‘For real?’

‘For real.’

Still pretty dazed, you did your best to clamber up onto his back, settling your head into the crook of his neck whilst trying to ignore the all feelings that his strong grip around your legs was provoking.

He somehow managed to lock up the garage while you were clinging onto him like a baby monkey, the cold night air waking you up a little more as he started on the short walk home.

You were only expecting a lift as far as his house, but he seemed to deliberately miss the turning.

‘We just passed your street.’

‘I wouldn’t be much of a public transport service if I didn’t take you the whole way now, would I?’

‘You never were one to do things by halves.’ You pressed your cheek against the side of his head. ‘But you know I’m not paying you for this, right?’

‘I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.’

‘In your dreams, Yucky.’

‘You’re damn right about that.’

He took you all the way to your doorstep, refusing to drop you until you were inches away from your front door. After gently setting you down, he spun round, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

You chuckled, trying to find your key. ‘I probably won’t see you now until after Christmas, so I hope you have a really nice one.’

‘Yeah, you too.’ He paused for a second, his hand feeling around in his pocket, looking as though he was building up to something important. ‘I’ll see you for games night though, right?’

Oh, apparently not.

‘Right. Night, Buck.’

Stepping forward, he placed his hand on the back of your head, gently pulling you towards him and pressing a soft kiss just below your hairline.

‘G’night, Lilypad.’

---

Christmas came and went, your family had their usual two day lock-in. You ate until you couldn’t stand, played so many board games that you had them all down to a perfect science and didn’t change out of your pyjamas for two days.

Spending so much time with your parents made you realise how much you’d missed them, and how much you’d miss them when you left again.

Aside from all the warmth and loveliness of your family, there was another big highlight to your day- a text from Bucky that you woke up to on Christmas morning.

Merry Christmas, Lilypad. It wasn’t the same last year without you.

---

The evening of the 26th was games night.

The doorbell rang and you leaped up, yanking it open and immediately pulling Bucky into a hug. You tried to greet his parents too, but it was a little difficult while you were being squeezed like a vice and carried towards the living room.

Everyone settled in while your mom made up the drinks. It was so reassuring to see that the end of your relationship with Bucky hadn’t tarnished the firm friendship that’d formed between your parents, the relaxed atmosphere between everyone made it felt like nothing had really changed since you left.

A little while after they’d arrived, you scuttled off to the kitchen for a snack, not noticing Bucky hot on your heels. You jumped out of your skin when you spotted him in the corner of your eye, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

‘I was just, uh- wondering if we could-’ He took a deep breath, steadying himself. ‘Could we go upstairs?’

You studied him for a second before answering. He was struggling to keep still, shifting back and forth on his feet while also seemingly unable to find a comfortable resting position for his arms. He was tense and anxious, you’d never seen him like this before.

‘Is everything alright?’

‘Yeah, all good. I just thought it’d be nice to talk in private for a bit.’

‘Sure.’ You gave him an apprehensive nod and gestured for him to follow you. ‘We can go to my room.’

Dread started to churn in your stomach as you slowly ascended the stairs, his heavy footsteps clunking up behind you. Bucky was the most laid-back, carefree guy you knew, what the hell could have him so jittery?

You led him into your bedroom, hearing a low chuckle as he closed the door behind him. ‘This place hasn’t changed a bit.’

‘I think my mom likes to keep it ready in case of surprise visits.’ You sat on your bed, patting the space next to you, giving him a warm smile as he took the invitation. ‘So what’s up?’

‘I haven't had a chance to give you your Christmas present.’

‘Oh, well it’s too late now.’ You teased him, trying your best to ease some of his nerves. ‘You’ll have to try again next year.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to wait that long.’

Digging a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small, clumsily wrapped present and quickly handed it to you.

‘Thank you, that’s really sweet.’ You felt it in your hands for a second. ‘Insert good-things-small-packages cliché here.’

Eagerly tearing off the wrapping paper, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

It was a ring box.

Your eyes shot up to him.

‘Open it.’

‘I don’t think I can Buck, I-’

‘Just, before you say anything, let me explain.’ You nodded faintly, feeling tears pricking your eyes. ‘You remember our last year together, how I told you that my dad was making me work all those hours? He wasn't. I asked him for them, cause I was saving up.’

You felt like you'd been shot in the stomach. ‘You bought it before I left?’

Flashbacks of your break-up conversation flooded into your mind. You’d been the first one to suggest separation, but you vividly remembered Bucky agreeing without hesitation, so quick that it made you think he’d lost interest in you.

‘I thought you wanted to break-up?’ Your words got a bit tangled in your mouth, the wave of emotions you were experiencing making it difficult for you to string your thoughts together.

‘I didn’t want to hold you back. I knew what the job meant to you.’

Your gaze darted back down to the box in your hand. ‘And you kept it all this time?’

‘It's not mine to give away, it's yours. It's always been yours.’ He placed his hand on top of yours. ‘I just couldn’t let you go again without it.’

Your mind went completely blank, the only sensations you could focus on were the sting of hot tears rolling down your face and the feeling of his rough skin against yours. You let your gaze slowly rise back to his face, the sight of his wide, blue eyes fixed on you making it even harder for you to untangle yourself.

Before you could even try to speak, he leaned towards you, cupping your face in his hand and softly pressing his lips against yours.

You let your eyes flutter closed, the only tangible thought rolling around your mind was how much you’d missed this, how much you’d missed him.

It was only a few seconds before he pulled away, letting out a heavy sigh and resting his forehead against yours.

This was too much, you felt your breathing becoming more frantic as you tried to pull yourself together. You turned your head slightly, roughly wiping the drying tears off your cheeks, doing everything you could to just think without being overcome by emotion.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. Just stay.’

‘I’m so sorry, Buck.’ You felt yourself beginning to crumble again as you carefully placed the box back in his hand. ‘I can’t.’

---

Part 3

---

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---

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ashyblondwaves · 3 years

Note

15. For the smutty one liners

Title: Down the Drain

Sentence: “I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment.”

Summary: After a hard day of training, Wanda and Vision figure out a way to wash the bad day down the drain.

Rating: Explicit

Your true power is in owning your talents. Only then can you truly control them.

The mantra had been drilled into Wanda’s head hour after hour by senior members of the team helping her train that day. They covered everything from aim to intention all the way back down to accepting herself.

She was exhausted.

Her hands ached from overuse. Each knuckle throbbed in protest as she grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. The only thing left between her a her shower now was a walk across the compound to her room.

Each step felt like there were cinderblocks attached to her feet. She'd stood too long contorting her frame in odd formations and now her body was betraying her in ways she didn't think possible.

She tried to ignore it, trudging through the aches and pains until she finally saw her room's door come into view. She'd had enough of magic that day, so she turned the knob and pushed open the door with her shoulder, dropping her bag down right at the entrance and toeing out of her shoes before she even turned on the light.

It was then that she saw the figure in her bed.

"Vis?" She squinted, using the remaining light of the day to just make out the shape of her boyfriend sitting on her bed. "Is everything ok?"

When she clicked on the light next to her bed, his full form came into view. Her eyes scraped down his body. Broad shoulders, wide chest, slender hips and...

He was naked. Completely and unabashedly naked, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment."

Wanda wasted no time climbing into her bed, prompting Vision to scoot over to make room as she wedged herself against his body, burying her face in his chest. One leg hitched up and came to rest between Vision's knees, while his arms wrapped around her protectively.

Vision laid a kiss on the top of Wanda's head. "What's wrong, love?"

Wanda sighed, her voice muffled against Vision's chest. "It was so difficult today. They just wouldn't let up. Every part of me hurts."

Vision held her tighter to his chest. "What can I do for you? How can I help?"

"Would it be too much to ask you to run a shower for me?" Wanda asked. "I feel so gross but I couldn't resist joining you in bed for a few minutes. I'm afraid if I don't get up and shower now, I'll lay here all night with you and never do it."

Wanda felt Vision's arms leave her body and immediately wanted to change her mind. Wrap her arms around his neck and pull him back down on the bed with her. Instead, she decided on a different idea.

She enjoyed the view as she watched Vision get up from the bed and walk away toward the bathroom. "Vis?" she called.

He turned around. "Yes?"

"Join me in the shower?" She smiled at him. "Then maybe you can tell me why you were naked on my bed?"

"It was a poorly executed plan, that's all," Vision said, hand on the bathroom doorknob. "I overheard Sam talking to Steve about a time he tried something similar and wanted to replicate the act. But then you came in looking completely drained. I knew I’d made a mistake. Besides, your idea is so much better." He disappeared into the bathroom and before long, Wanda heard the shower running.

Hopping off the bed and plucking her robe from the hook on the back of her door, she entered the bathroom. Right away, she noticed that Vision was already in the shower waiting for her. She silently watched him through the glass, hands pressed against the tiles, head down as the water cascaded down his body. He was beautiful to look at, especially when he didn't realize he was being watched.

Wanda opened the shower door and cleared her throat, pulling Vision away from the water. He smiled at her as she peeled off her shirt and dropped it to the floor.

"May I?" Vision asked, reaching out to toy with the front clasp of Wanda's bra.

"Please."

Wet hands swiftly undid the clasp as the fabric went slack over Wanda's breasts. With a shrug of her shoulders, the bra fell away before she wiggled out of the rest of her clothes and took Vision's waiting hand. She stepped into the steamy shower and closed the door behind her.

The warm water enveloped Wanda, washing over her sore body and melting away the tenseness she’d been feeling since her training ended. Behind her, Vision closed in, his head dipping down to her ear.

“Relax, darling,” he whispered, running the back of his hand down Wanda’s side. “Let me take care of you.”

Wanda stayed under the shower stream, listening to Vision fiddle with her soaps, mumbling under his breath about which one to choose.

"How about lavender?" Wanda offered, smiling to herself over Vision's soap dilemma. "That one always relaxes me."

"Lavender it is," Vision said, getting quiet once more.

Soon, Wanda felt the familiar sensation of her loofah sponge against her back and shoulders, a rich lavender scented lather covering her body as Vision tended to her.

He took his time, slowly dragging the sponge over the curve of Wanda's ass and around to the front, gently prodding her legs apart to reach her most intimate spots.

It was no surprise to Wanda that her body began to response to Vision's ministrations, however innocent he intended them to be. His hands on her could always get a rise out of her. She felt that pulsing ache start between her legs and she took a deep breath in as Vision continued. He moved up to her stomach, brushing gentle, soapy circles around and up to her breasts.

Wanda caught Vision's hand, stopping him so she could grab the loofah and drop it to the shower floor. She reached behind her, finding his other hand and guiding it to her breast, urging him to squeeze and play with the mound.

"Are you sure?" Vision asked, unmoving. "If you're not feeling up to it I don't want you to feel-"

"Vis," Wanda said, cutting him off. "I wouldn't have asked you to join me if I didn't think this was going to happen."

Vision said nothing, but Wanda knew she'd gotten through to him when she felt his body pressed against hers and his hands started to move. First, to make sure she was fully rinsed off, but then a hand was back on her breast. Fingertips swirled over her hard nipple as Vision's other hand traveled between her legs to play with her clit.

As Vision's fingertips worked her sensitive areas, Wanda reached back and grabbed hold of his semi-hard cock, pumping his length in a slow and teasing rhythm, the pain in her hands all but forgotten. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along the curve and down her shoulder.

They worked each other other -- moans almost muted by the shower's steady noise -- until Wanda's pussy was slick with her arousal. She could feel Vision, now rock hard in her hand, gently bucking his hips forward a silent indicator that he was as ready as she was.

With a quick turn, Wanda was now facing Vision, his cock pressing against her belly as she pulled him down into a kiss. Their lips didn't leave each others as Vision moved them both forward until Wanda's back hit the shower wall. Instinctively and without discussion, Vision held only the back of Wanda's thighs -- just below her ass -- while she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Vision took his hand away just long enough to position himself at Wanda's entrance. With a quick thrust, he was sheathed inside of her warm walls. With Wanda's legs wrapped tightly around his waist, she kept him close as he pumped into her, using the grip he now had on her ass to make his thrusts deeper.

They kept a steady, calm rhythm, using kisses to stifle moans that may have traveled beyond the shower's walls. Each thrust brought Wanda closer to the edge, her clit getting full attention from the weight of Vision's body against hers.

As she came, her cries were cut off by Vision's lips on hers. With the whole team milling around the compound, the last thing they needed was to be heard. She rode out her orgasm with Vision's cock still deep inside her, her walls clenching around him.

With her orgasm subsiding, she dropped her legs from Vision's waist and he let her down, his cock sliding out of her, much to his chagrin.

"Your turn," Wanda said, dropping to her knees in front of Vision.

She took him in her hand and gave him a few pumps before wrapping her mouth around the head of his cock, swirling her tongue around a few times before taking him as deep as she could. She wrapped her hand around the part of the shaft she couldn't fit in her mouth and as she bobbed her head and took him in and out she stroked the rest of him.

Vision's hands tangled in her wet hair, his hips bucking forward in shallow thrusts in response to Wanda working him with her mouth.

"Wanda," he finally murmured, stilling his hips. "Wanda, I'm about to come."

Wanda stayed put, continuing to suck and stroke Vision until he came, doing her best to swallow as much as she could as he emptied himself. Normally, she'd pull away and finish him with her hand. And while it may not have been perfect -- In fact, she may have made a bit of a mess -- she'd been wanting to try to completely finish him with her mouth. Now that she had, she could only get better at it in the future.

"I'm sorry," Vision said, pulling his softening cock from Wanda's mouth. "I couldn't hold back any longer."

Wanda shook her head. "I wanted to do that, Vis. You didn't do anything wrong."

Relief filled Vision's features. He gave Wanda his hand and helped her up from the floor, embracing her when she stood.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked.

"Much," Wanda assured him. "But I should probably actually take that shower now before we run out of hot water."

#queenlovett #scarletvision #scarletvision fic #wandavision #wandavision fic #wanda maximoff #vision #fanfiction #i write shit #scarletvision drabbles #smutty one liner prompts

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

Text

Souls of Mischief || Morgan & Caoimhe

TIMING: the recent past

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @evebrennan & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Two adjuncts square up against the new dean. Is it really a UMWC faculty meeting if everything goes according to plan?

CONTAINS: N/A

Since the dean of the arts and sciences college had gotten his face eaten and the volmugger dean who unofficially replaced him had been sliced and diced, the faculty meeting had to be postponed until summer. With all the deaths and disappearances from the last year, the faculty was able to squeeze comfortably into one of the small lecture halls from the early days of the school, pre AC. They were twenty minutes in and Morgan’s nose was starting to pick up the sour smell of human sweat filling the room. As she slumped deeper into her chair, she found herself thinking that maybe the volmugger dean hadn’t been so bad after all. At least his meeting probably would have been over by now.

She turned to the woman next to her. “Do you ever wish for a fire scare or a cryptid attack during these, or is that just a me thing?”

Humans were captivating for their creativity, and Caoimhe had never encountered anything as terribly uncreative as a routine meeting. Death by powerpoints, a man droning on about grading rubrics and research coming out of New York City. Somewhere in there was a hopeful message about Summer classes and plans for the Fall, but the man’s tone never changed. She felt liable to crawl out of her own skin should it go on for much longer, shifting restlessly in her seat. Typically, in a room so full, there would always be someone to whom Caoimhe was drawn. It was true, meetings sucked the creativity out of everything.

She was halfway through a list of ways she could get out of it, varying from a simple bathroom excuse to complete university meltdown, when a voice piped up from beside her. Ah, better. “Only every meeting. We could make it happen. Any of the above. I prefer bothering them with increasingly outrageous questions until they give up and let us go, personally.” She wondered how long it would take to get him going. If she could get him to give up before the PowerPoint was done. “Ten bucks says if we team up, we could be out of here before he can bring up the next slide.”

Morgan quirked her eyes with interest. Generally, the most she got out of someone was a little indulgent smile (so funny, Morgan; you and your little quips) or a grimace of agreement, because solidarity was the only thing that made these meetings bearable. No one really talked back, much less turned around and offered something back. Morgan scooted closer to the woman.

“Are you serious? Because I can’t tell if you’re serious, and if you’re not serious, I’m going to be really embarrassed when I ask that guy to explain why he chose the font he did for this thrilling presentation and no one jumps in to one up me.” She sat up a little straighter, tilting her head in a show of false interest at the presentation. “If we do make this work, we should give ourselves something nice. As a treat, you know?”

Oh, there was hope for the meeting yet. Caoimhe sat up, finding a grin that didn’t match the less-than-lively meeting topic in the least. She showed more interest in a matter of moments than she had for the entirety of the meeting up to that point, and she couldn’t even be bothered to care. It was so rare that anyone was willing to play along. Most meetings were spent tapping her toes against carpet, or filling quickly sketched staff lines in the margins of her notes. Some part of her felt she should pay attention, given she was new and working on a good first impression, but the meeting was unbearably boring, and there was someone present who was perfectly willing to cause some trouble.

“I don’t joke around when it comes to...joking around.” She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head around a laugh, turning back to the front. Displayed was a slide reading “2021 Changes,” and she was certain they’d been covering changes for at least thirty minutes. Freedom was imminent. “My vote is ice cream.”

Her vote was anything that wasn’t another staff meeting. She raised her hand, “Excuse me, sorry. I just couldn’t help but notice you’re using the Geometric theme by Slides. It’s an excellent choice, very clean. May I ask why Geometric instead of, say, Plum, or Spearmint?”

It took the New Dean several seconds to realize someone else was talking. He blinked behind his tortoiseshell glasses at Caoimhe, then at his presentation, then back again. “This...was recommended to me by my assistant.” He laughed affably. “And if you’ll observe, as we move on to the next section of the faculty code of conduct, the hexagons make for a very convenient grouping of text, so you can differentiate between the point and the rationale…” He fumbled with his clicker and brought the next slide up.

“Oh, actually, I have a question about that formatting!” Morgan called. “The color contrast you picked is interesting, but I was wondering why you deviated from black and white. And why the font? It’s not so great for those of us in the back or with visual impairments. Which, I dunno, considering our disciplines is probably a lot of us, right?”

A few women sitting nearby sniggered.

“Obviously I can’t speak for anyone else, but everything you’re saying reads like gibberish to me. And I feel like my professional enrichment is being underserved.”

Ah, the next slide. Caoimhe was only allowed a moment of defeat before her partner in crime piped up, and the Dean’s initial laughter faded into a look of disbelief. The energy in the room changed. People were shifting in their chairs, interest piqued. Caoimhe could see a few burying their heads in the crook of their elbow, or covering their laughter with a hand over their mouths. She had a feeling she was going to like UMWC. Not if every meeting derailed so easily, not if she’d always have someone so perfectly willing to try.

“Oh, my deepest apologies.” There was a pause, then, while the Dean twisted the clicker in his hands and considered his next course of action. Caoimhe could see the red creeping into his cheeks, and she might’ve felt bad for him, if she wasn’t enjoying herself so much.

“There’s actually a site to help with contrast, as well as outlines of the best fonts to use in presentations. For example, Garamond fonts look very professional, yet are still easy to read.” Caoimhe grinned, “I can send an email, even carbon copy your assistant, if you’d like.”

Morgan turned to Caoimhe as if noticing her for the first time. “Oh, my gosh! Could you? That sounds so amazing and helpful. Barbara--” She waved down a woman two rows up. “You had a student who was color-blind and dyslexic last semester, right? Did you ever figure out what the best format and coloring was for him?”

“No, that was me!” Another woman, Stephanie Shannon, called. Stephanie liked to be an authority on things. It made it easier to correct everyone else. And so, when Morgan happened to call the wrong woman, of course she had to be corrected. Stephanie launched into a long anecdote about her student and the research she did, and which websites were not at all helpful, and so on.

The New Dean tapped his microphone. “If we could turn back to business--”

“I believe Doctor Shannon is still speaking,” Morgan said, unable to hide the glee in her voice.

“Thank you, Professor Beck,” Stephanie said, genuinely touched.

Morgan leaned back in her seat and turned to Caoimhe. “So, the real question is whether we want to see if his face is going to get any redder or if we want to pretend to go to the ladies’ room and never come back.”

Chaos ensued and Caoimhe barely managed to conceal a smile behind her hand. The careful structure of the meeting falling to pieces around them was almost enough to make her stay, but it was still a meeting, and she was willing to bet Doctor Shannon had about as much to say as the Dean did. The deed was done. If she stayed in her spot another moment longer, her laughter would give her away.

A quick excuse and she was tumbling into the hallway, the sound of continued arguing cutting off abruptly as the door shut in her wake. The amount of joy she derived from the dean’s expression as she ducked out was near pathological.

“Professor Beck, was it?” Caoimhe had grown well-accustomed to starting over, to finding her footing in new environments. There was always a nook into which she could burrow herself, even if it was a box-strewn hotel room rented by the week. She preferred it when it looked like this. Like university hallways and bookshelves, drifting notes from a piano in a practice room, and sometimes people. They were always the hardest. They had interests, opinions, smiles and laughter of their own. It was easy to leave behind a bookshelf or a piano. It wasn’t always easy to leave behind people, the rare friend. Professor Beck had jumped in with the same glee Caoimhe had, and she already found herself thinking about what it would mean to leave. “I’m stealing you for every meeting. I’m sorry, it’s just the way it’s going to be.”

Morgan followed her new friend out. People seldom questioned women leaving in pairs, and she’d just earned some much needed goodwill. When the doors to the lecture room closed behind her, she finally let herself laugh, more pleased with herself than she’d been in a long time.

“Why yes,” she said, bowing dramatically. “Morgan Beck, at your service. I am great at distractions, petty theft, and driving away unwanted attention. My knowledge of literature isn’t so bad either.” She laughed again and sidled up to the other woman. “I would be honored, thrilled even, to be your partner in crime for the next meeting. But first, I definitely want to know who I have the honor of being in cahoots with, and if I can steal you for my meetings too.” It had been a while since she’d had a reason to feel happy at work. Since she’d had a real friend she could do shallow simple things with. There was no keeping the supernatural from coming to her door no matter where she went, but a moment of good, a little bubble of fun and nothing now and then, could be worth a lot.

“Oh, Morgan!” Caoimhe stood up a little straighter, grinning. “English professor Morgan? Likes the Cranberries Morgan?” She gave her own bow, “It’s Caoimhe, Music professor, new in town. Also great at distractions, and car sing alongs like you wouldn’t believe.” Suddenly, White Crest didn’t feel quite so daunting. It felt just that little bit more like somewhere she could settle, if she ever found herself in a capacity to do so. Perhaps there was something to the fog, to the way it felt disconnected in a way no other town had managed. Perhaps there was something to letting herself have friendships in the in-between.

There was muffled arguing from behind the door, and Caoimhe descended into another laugh, moving further down the hallway. There’d been some mention of a treat in reward of success, and the rapidly derailing meeting behind them was definitely a success. “Now, as much fun as that was, I’ve already enlisted you as my arm wrestling champion, how could I possibly expect even more of you?”

“Yes! That’s me! And you’re Vivaldi and Britney Spears Caoimhe?” Morgan gaped. She followed Caoimhe down the hall, shoes skittering in a cascade of delight as she avoided the oncoming faculty approaching the door. “Oh, you’re amazing! You’re like the first cool person my age here and you actually give a shit about your students and teaching and you sing in the car too? Do you also sing karaoke? I just--feel like you’re one swooping in here and making everything here a whole lot better. Let me get you something, a drink, or lunch or whatever people with sudden free-time do.” She caught up to herself, hearing the echo of her own rambling and her unchecked enthusiasm in the hall. “Or, um, a rain check. Obviously. But, you really do seem great and this place isn’t kind to great people, especially when they’re isolated. And, you know, selfishly, I really do appreciate having a partner in crime. There’s only so much mischief you can get up to when it’s you against the world.”

“Okay, okay correction.” Caoimhe matched the same excited rambling coming from Morgan. She talked with her hands. Her mother would grab them sometimes, pin them to a table and say her name sharp, but with a smile tugging at the edges of her lips. Caoimhe never did make an effort to fix it. “It’s you and me against the world now, so just jot that one down. Or...at the very least boring staff meetings. We can work up to the whole world part, but I’m dedicated.”

She tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her slacks. She liked the sound of Vivaldi and Britney Spears Caoimhe, and cool person, and lunch between classes. Of someone who seemed just as excited to wreak havoc as she was, who cared about her students, who liked karaoke, and oh. That one wouldn’t be the best idea, but the rest! Caoimhe would happily get behind the rest. “Yes to karaoke sometimes, no to the rain check.” She parsed through the onslaught to address one item at a time, quick and with just as much enthusiasm as the questions had been asked. “You seem great, I don’t rain check great. But reverse it, let me get you a drink, or lunch, or something.”

Morgan couldn’t fight the way she brightened up at Caoimhe’s assurances. “Okay! Then--” Shoot. She didn’t eat out anymore. Or enjoy most food. “Coffee? I know it’s hot and terrible outside, but we can get something iced. I know where the best places in town are.” And she could actually taste a quad shot latte. “I’ll let you pay this time, but only because it contractually obligates a second outing when I get to pay. And the sky’s the limit there, because while we adjuncts might get shit for pay, I get some very generous supplemented by my unspeakably wonderful future-wife.” She slipped her hands into her own skirt pockets and elbowed Caoimhe, grinning. “I like the sound of that, though: you and me against the department and really boring faculty meetings. Today the arts college, tomorrow the school, and then who knows?”

#souls of mischief #wr caoimhe #wr chatzy #wr caoimhe chatzy

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consumedkings-archive · 3 years

Text

WITCHING HOUR, a john seed/deputy fic.

chapter seven: a little death

word count: 11.1k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: gore. so much gore. "a little death”? more like a lotta death. yeah it’s just blood and guts, and then john is kind of a fucker for like .0000005 seconds

notes: hi folks! we've got another big'un, a little more john/elliot centric with some plot threads starting to weave together. i'm really excited with where things are going and how things are shaping up, and i hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!

special thank you to @shallow-gravy for lending me her eyeballs to proof this chapter <3 dani and sylvia both are characters of @starcrier's beautiful talented mind and she was kind of enough to help me fill out the cast for the world i'm working on!

as always, thank you so much to everyone who reads/comments/kudoses/likes; whatever your form of support is, it really means the absolute most to me and it's the whole reason i keep going!

“Well, well, well, Mr. Seed!”

It was Sylvia’s cheerful voice that first put a smile on Elliot’s face. It was the ensuing expression on John’s face when he realized he’d have to slide into boots worn by at least twenty other people that kept it there. He grimaced as he set his own perfectly tidy shoes to the side and pulled the first Wellington on.

John had done the right thing by swapping out the collared shirt he’d been halfway through putting on into a black turtleneck—still, certainly, more expensive than perhaps any item of clothing Elliot herself had ever owned, but less pretentious than a silky button-up.

“Right size?” Via asked.

He forced the grimace into a smile. “Perfect fit.”

With a satisfied nod, the blonde turned back to Elliot and handed her the lead to the horse she was going to brush—a hefty Clydesdale that plodded out of his stall obediently. He nosed her pockets for treats, whuffling against her offered but empty palm before she started tying him to keep him in place for a good brushing.

“You look fit as a fiddle and ready to ride,” Via announced, clapping John on the shoulder once he’d gotten his shoes swapped out. “What do you think? Wanna climb on up?”

“On that?” John asked incredulously when the blonde indicated the bay.

“Yes sir. Hugo’s great for beginners.”

“Hugo’d be great to stomp me to death,” he muttered. “Ah, no thank you, Sylvia—I think I’ll stick with the ground for now.”

“Suit yourself.”

She gave Elliot’s shoulder a quick squeeze before setting off at a brisk pace. At the barn, Via always seemed to operate on a different kind of frequency—she was still quick to smile and quicker to laugh, but there was definitely something more businesslike going on. John watched her go for a minute, mouth downturned in a frown, before his gaze returned to Elliot.

“So,” he said, “what are we doing?”

“I’m brushing Hugo,” she replied primly. “You can...give him a treat, or something.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something?”

Elliot sighed, patting Hugo’s neck and giving him a scratch. The bay turned his head, regarding John for a moment before bumping his muzzle against her hip affectionately.

“Here,” she said, holding out a brush. “You can brush him.”

It was John’s turn to do the regarding, then, eyes darting down to the brush and then back up at Elliot. He did still look a bit ridiculous—walking around in the Wellingtons, brushing loose wisps of hay that had somehow managed to cling to his turtleneck, the normally perfectly-slicked back hair falling loose and unruly. As John weighed the brush in his hand like it was some kind of artifact, he gave Hugo an awkward pat on the nose and one stilted brush along his neck.

“Great,” Elliot chirped. “Just keep doing that, but...better.”

She stepped away, leaving John with the horse and heading down the main hall. She’d taken about five steps before she heard John go, “Wait, where are you going?” and she turned to look at him, brows pulling together in something close to pity.

He looked so uncomfortable. And it was so good.

“To brush another horse, honey,” she replied, voice dripping with sugar. “What, did you think we were going to hold hands while you made yourself useful?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve gotten mouthy,” he said, eyes on her as she clipped a lead onto her usual equine companion, a handsome palomino named Butterscotch.

“I’ve always been mouthy, John.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

A few minutes of silence lapsed between them, filled only by the occasional whuff of horse breath or John muttering a swear. Elliot had just gotten into the rhythm with the palomino, gliding her hands and the brush across his neck in slow, even strokes, when John said, “So, you’ve been coming here a lot then, huh?”

Elliot let out a sigh. “This is supposed to be my quiet time.”

“I’m just curious,” John replied. “What made you want to start spending time around big, smelly animals?”

She dropped the brush in a bucket, fishing out the comb and starting to work on some of the knots. “Doctor’s orders.”

John made a low noise, agreeable even though she thought that he might be burning over there. Back in Hope County, he’d been determined to know her—get inside of her, get in the nitty-gritty, dig his elbows up into her guts and gore and figure out every little thing about her and what it was that she was keeping from him.

It made her wonder if he had read the file Joseph had compiled on her. It had been given to him, after all, like a trophy. Like she was a trophy, a gift from Joseph to him. His reward.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe that is what John thought; that all of his ragged attempts at convincing her that what they’d had, those fleeting moments, had been love. But she’d seen the way he’d looked when Joseph had praised him, the way he tiptoed around himself and his true nature, always with a foot on Joseph’s side and one on hers. Now, watching him stand awkwardly to the side of a giant Clydesdale, making an attempt at integrating into her daily life—it was almost sickening, to think that she had been the prize in some weird game for Joseph’s approval.

“Left him all alone with Hugo, huh?” Sylvia asked, jarring her out of her thoughts and reminding her that she’d been brushing the same spot in the palomino’s mane for a while now.

“Ah, yeah,” Elliot replied, clearing her throat and focusing on a different spot. You make me sick, she wanted to tell him, the warmth of the morning evaporating in the wake of her anger. You make me fucking sick, I won’t forget it, I can’t forget it, fuck you fuck you. “He could squirm a little. Builds character.”

Via’s eyes narrowed playfully, squinting at John as he gave the bay a hearty pat on the neck. “Not an animal person, huh?”

She felt her mouth twist wryly, wanting to say something vicious. Something mean. Something—

( I’m glad I didn’t break that wrathful streak out of you, )

“City boy,” is what she ended up supplying, to which Via went ahh, as though that explained a lot. In a lot of ways, it did.

“How’re you holdin’ up over there, buddy?” the blonde called down the hall, Hugo’s ears flicking in her direction. John glanced up and planted a smile on his face that was so canned Elliot thought he couldn’t have seemed like he meant it any less.

“Fine,” John said, like he was on automatic, and then quickly added, “Great, actually. We’re bonding, Hugo and I. The two of us.”

“Yeah?” Via’s head tilted. “That’s nice to hear.”

“Yes. A pair, he and I.”

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “You can take him on a walk then.”

“Huh?” came the intelligent reply, followed by the unceremonious drop of the brush in the nearby bucket. “What?”

“Take him out, stretch his legs a little,” Via explained, her voice warm. “He’s a nice boy, you two are pals. Should go fine.”

John grimaced. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Elliot had to swallow back a laugh when Via asked, “You don’t know how to walk?”

The brunette sucked his teeth. A little smile was on his face, but it was the same kind of smile he’d given Elliot when she said something particularly mean-spirited—and though Sylvia West was clearly not a mean-spirited person, she had yet to find John very charming at all. Jury was still out, after all. Elliot was sure that bothered him.

“I’ll show you,” Elliot sighed, after a few seconds of Via waiting patiently for John to explain himself. “Just unclip the—”

“Don’t stress it, Freckles,” Via interjected gently. “You’re busy with Butterscotch. I’ll help John.”

She hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of panic. Via was saying, take care of yourself. She was saying, put yourself first. She was saying, you don’t have to jump to do the stuff all the time. But it had been so long—so long of trying to prioritize herself and choosing other people.

You don’t have to Atlas this thing yourself, deputy, Jerome had said, like she wanted to let someone else handle it, like she wanted to be alone with herself.

But before Elliot could convince herself that it was more important that she show John how to do something fairly self-explanatory, before she could protest that Via was too busy, the blonde picked up the brush, put it back in her hand and crossed the hall to John with great purpose.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’ll make sure you don’t get trampled,” Sylvia chirped at John, unclipping the lead from the hook in the wall and setting it in his hand.

“Thanks, Sylvia.”

“No sweat, that’s what they pay me the big bucks for.”

“Lot of money, having people walk horses around?”

She flashed a smile that was all teeth. “Tons. I fill my pool up with hundred-dollar bills just for fun. Swim around in it and everythin’.”

John’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He glanced back at Elliot, their eyes meeting for a moment—and maybe it did make her regret, a little, all of the poison she’d been thinking about him; maybe seeing him standing there and jesting with Sylvia and giving her that boyish smile made her regret thinking about how much she hated that he wanted to know her, all of her, all of the yucky, nasty bits of her that she wished didn’t exist.

Watching him walk out the front of the barn in the rubber boots, Hugo plodding along amicably behind him while Sylvia chattered, made Elliot wonder what it would have been like if he’d kept his word; if he’d meant it when he’d said that they would leave Hope County. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she and John were meant for each other like he’d claimed. There had been a time where she’d thought maybe she didn’t want anyone else, maybe she wanted someone who kissed her when she was still covered in another man’s blood, who didn’t mind when her fingers itched and burned for acts of violence.

Yours must surely be the sin of Wrath.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was it for her, Elliot thought while John and Sylvia walked the Clydesdale in a big loop around the snowy parking lot. Maybe she never would find someone who loved her, all of her grit and gore and venom, the way that John did.

The way that he’d looked at her scar, then a wound, with adoration, his hands red with her blood. The way he’d said, It’s going to look so good on you.

“That’s okay,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone, feeling the palomino’s velvety muzzle bump her hand impatiently for her attention. “I’m—”

Not ‘I’m’. It wasn’t ‘I’m’ anymore. It’s not just about you, anymore.

“We’re,” Elliot amended, swallowing thickly, “just fine being alone.”

If she said it enough times, maybe she would learn to believe it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“You really never walked a horse before, huh?”

John glanced up, his gaze darting to the blonde that had been walking alongside him as they circled the parking lot. This is not what he wanted to be doing. When he’d said he was coming with Elliot to the barn, what he’d anticipated had been something closer to getting time with her—out of the house, away from the dog and her mother, and in a situation that was more comfortable for her. She clearly liked coming here, or she wouldn’t have strongly considered objecting to his tagging along.

Hm, something inside of him said, doesn’t that say something, that she doesn’t want you in a place she feels happy and safe?

No. Not really. Not in the least.

“I haven’t,” John replied after a moment, realizing that Sylvia was waiting very patiently for his answer, without rushing or prompting him. That was probably why Elliot liked her. “It’s funny, I grew up in Georgia and never seemed to be around a horse my entire life.”

“That is funny,” Sylvia agreed, without laughing or cracking much more than a polite smile.

His eyes narrowed. He pushed a smile onto his face, the rope hung loosely in his hand as Hugo trailed along beside him, content to brush at the ground with his nose once in a while. John thought, there’s got to be a way to figure you out. There’s got to be something. What did Elliot say to you about me, Sylvia? What did she tell you that’s making you this obstinate?

Just as John opened his mouth to say something, the blonde said, “You know, I don’t like you much, Mr. Seed.”

He closed his mouth, stopping at the far end of the parking lot. Sylvia turned to look at him, her gaze scrutinizing, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “I don’t know what I did to disenchant you, Sylvia, but—”

“I spend a lot of time with troubled people,” she interjected, and infuriatingly she did it so kindly that it almost lost its insulting edge.

Swallowing, John’s brain scrambled rapidly, looking for some kind of footing before he began as amenably as possible, “I hear equine therapy is beneficial to plenty of people—”

“Doctors and therapists send folks here all the time to try and get some kinda relief. I don’t always know what it is, but I’ll tell you one thing: that girl in there—she came in looking more haunted than a cemetery, and the way she looked when I first saw her is the same way she looked when I caught y’all on the street.”

The polite smile dropped from her face. “I don’t like that she got that look back.”

John bit back his venom and said, “To be frank, you don’t know anything about our relationship.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Sylvia replied lightly. She turned to him, and reiterated with pointed firmness, “All the same, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, John Seed.”

“You’re awful polite,” he said tartly, “for a woman who doesn’t like me.”

Sylvia sucked her teeth in a gesture that was reminiscent of going come on, shaking her head again and huffing out a sigh. “You strike me as a man that hasn’t ever been just plain old disliked before,” she said, planting a hand on his shoulder even though he easily had two or three inches on her. “Just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless, John. Jesus Christ, people been givin’ up on you that fast, huh?”

John blinked rapidly. That was not the answer he had anticipated. The words rattled around in his head, clanging painfully loud, foreign and unfamiliar and scary in how it felt to have someone, Sylvia, look at him and say, people been givin’ up on you that fast?

Mentally scrabbling, he brushed her hand from his shoulder and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m perfectly fine. I just don’t understand putting yourself through the trouble of being nice to someone if you don’t like them, that’s all.”

“People can change,” Sylvia told him plainly. “After all, you said you’ve never been around a horse before, right?”

“Well—”

“And now here you are, walking a horse around an empty parking lot in Nowhere, Georgia. I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you?”

John snapped his mouth shut. There was something unsettling about the way Sylvia was looking at him; like she was seeing him, really, right then and there, after knowing her for so little time. It was the same—

It was the same way Joseph looked at people. Seeing them, for exactly as they were, with everything they brought to the table. So why did it feel different when Sylvia looked at him? Why did it feel different from Joseph when she looked at him and said, I’d say that’s changing, wouldn’t you? Why did it feel more real?

“You’d probably best head back in,” Sylvia continued after a minute, smiling at him brightly. “Hugo’s an old man, he doesn’t like to be out that long. Much rather prefer to be inside and warm.”

“Yeah,” John said after a moment, pressing his lips into a thin line. “I’d better.”

He didn’t like this, not at all. He especially didn’t like the feeling of Sylvia, a woman who blatantly did not like him, seeing him.

Turning, John started back across the parking lot to the barn, the hefty Clydesdale trailing obediently behind. It wasn’t until he was nearly to the doorway that he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket; pulling it out with his free hand, John brought the horse to a stop and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, John.”

It was Joseph. Speak of the devil, something in him whispered as he glanced back over his shoulder at Sylvia beginning to trek down into one of the riding yards.

“Joseph,” John said, clearing his throat, “I’m so happy you called.”

“How are things going?” His brother’s voice maintained its typical serenity, but there was a strange idleness to it, like he wasn’t fully invested in their conversation. It was unlike him, to sound like this—to sound absent, or troubled.

“They’re good,” he began cautiously. He wondered if Isolde had told Joseph about him hanging up on her. It would be just like her. “Really good. There was a doctor’s appointment yesterday—” That Elliot didn’t let me go to, he thought, as Joseph made an agreeable noise to show he was listening, “—and the baby is healthy. Really healthy, and good, and next week we’re going to find out the gender. Elliot’s been going to these stables because the doctor thinks it’s good for her stress—”

Joseph’s voice cut in over him, sharp and impatient. “Do you know what’s going to be really good for the deputy’s stress?”

He shifted on his feet. “It’s just, she’s been talking to the doctor about it—”

“There will be bombs dropping, John.”

“I—know that,” he replied quickly, glancing back at the barn and seeing Elliot dusting her hands off on the top of her jeans, having put the palomino away. “I know that, Joseph, I promise, I—”

“There will be no baby to be worried about,” his brother continued, “if you and our sister are not here when they fall on us.”

Joseph bit the word out, sister, like it was a cyanide pill crushed between his canines. Just hearing his brother’s voice change like that made John’s throat feel tight. The anxiety of hearing Joseph’s displeasure was rising up high and hot in his throat, and Elliot was walking towards him, head cocked to the side curiously, and if she knew he was talking to Joseph she was going to go ballistic. She would, and he would be back to square one—and he’d only just gotten a little bit closer; the feeling of the soft skin of her throat beneath his fingers from earlier that morning still lingered, burned in his memory.

“I understand,” John said automatically, pitching his voice low. “I do, I’ll—”

“You have a week left. I won’t wait for you.”

“Joseph—”

“I’ve given you great freedom to fetch your wife and child, when I have every reason to have left her to Hell.”

His stomach wrenched. He knew it. He knew Joseph was angry about it. Regret flooded him; he should have stayed back in Hope County a little while longer, until Joseph was done in his solitude, to talk to him first. “I know, please, if you would—”

“The next life is something that has to be earned,” came his brother’s voice, sharpening as he spoke, “and your wife has done nothing but reject the absolution that I—” He paused. “—we offered her, at every turn.”

I know, John wanted to say, but could not; what would be the point? What would it matter? He’d said it a handful of times already, but Joseph was angry, he was so mad, so mad, and all that time spent back in Hope County felt very suddenly like it had amounted to nothing.

“The gates will be closed to you.” And then, his voice harder now: “Tell me you understand, John.”

He gripped the horse’s lead tight. For a second in time, the comedy of it all—trailing after Elliot into a stable, joining her and her friends that didn’t like him at a bar, listening to her mother expertly sliding in barbs—had been overwhelming. His life had temporarily become a rom-com, and by the season finale they’d make amends and everything would be fine.

This was a reminder that was not how things were going to go. He didn’t have the leniency to just take however long he wanted; there would be no time to make friends, even ones that looked at him and said, just because I don’t like you doesn’t mean I think you’re hopeless.

Get Elliot and baby. Bring them home.

“John.”

“I do,” he whispered. “I understand, Joseph.”

“Good.” Joseph paused, and then after a moment: “And no secrets, John. I’ll know if you’re keeping something from me.”

The words washed a strange, cold sense of dread over him. For a second, John thought, have I been keeping a secret from him? Have I been lying to him about something?

Elliot had stopped a few feet away, her head tilted inquisitively. She was far enough that John thought she might not be able to hear him, but still he turned his head like he’d seen something interesting back in the parking lot when he said, “I would never do that.”

There was a little exhale on the other end of the call. “I know. You’ve always been good.”

Something frantically pleased lit up inside of him, rapidly firing the neurons in his brain. Good, they said, chanting, we’re good, we’re good, he said we’re good, Joseph thinks we’re good.

Just as John opened his mouth to reply, Joseph said, “We’ll talk soon,” and the line clicked. Call Ended, said the screen when he pulled the phone away from his ear and turned back to Elliot, who’d started making her way over to him again. Something in his chest sank a little; he quickly tucked it away, focusing his attention back on the task at hand.

You’ve always been good.

“Who was that?” Elliot asked as she came up, rubbing her hands together in the cold absently. John gestured for her to head back inside, and she did, letting him fall into step between her and the horse.

“Just a wrong number,” he replied with a little smile. “It’s a new phone. I’ve been getting them a lot.”

“Ah.” She didn’t sound convinced, but he supposed he never expected her to. “And how was your walk with Hugo and Sylvia?”

“You would be surprised to know I feel much the same as before I walked.”

Elliot’s mouth quirked up at the corners, tugged into a smile. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen that little smile on her face, but it was the first time that it didn’t feel forced, or driven by something sour or venomous.

John offered, “Sylvia has confessed she’s not fond of me.”

The redhead next to him made an inquisitive noise, though she didn’t remark on it. He imagined this was not news to her, given the way they’d been chatting when he’d come back from warming up the car the other night. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t spike a little bit of jealousy in him; that Elliot found it so easy to connect with Sylvia, even though they had history, even farther back than Eden’s Gate, if he was going to be a stickler about it. And he was. He wanted to be.

A little, he thought, maybe he was jealous that despite everything, Elliot still found some way to make a friend that defended her so fiercely.

Stupid, he thought, letting Elliot take the lead from him. It’s stupid. I have people who will protect me too. Jacob, and Joseph—

“But you already knew that,” he added after a moment, watching her. The redhead moved with a kind of surety around the horses; there were no darting eyes, no furtive glances out into the distance, searching for an invisible threat that only she could see.

“Well,” Elliot replied, “you didn’t really endear yourself to her. She met us in the middle of an argument, and then you proceeded to try and use your snake charms—”

“My what?”

“—on her, and that’s just not really her style,” she finished plainly, working to take the halter off and then sliding the stable door shut. “You don’t have all of your little cultists here to chant ‘yes’ at you whenever you please. You have to make a real effort with people.”

“I am,” John snipped out, “making a real effort.”

“Mm,” came the reply as Elliot slung the halter over her shoulder and started heading off down the hall without waiting for him.

“Elliot—”

“John,” she replied amicably. “I’m not going back and forth with you about this.”

He closed his mouth. Every single nerve-ending felt violently frayed from the onslaught; first Sylvia, then Joseph, and now Elliot. John could feel the headache blooming behind his eyes. Even though he’d felt that rush of adrenaline the second Joseph had praised him, there was still a knot in the pit of his stomach; just there, rolling tight and painful, reminding him that he still would have preferred that Jacob called instead.

Elliot returned, picking a loose piece of hay off of his shoulder and dropping it to the ground. “We going or what?”

Regarding her carefully, John said, “Only if you’re done. We’re staying however long you want.”

“Oh, are we? It’s all about what I want now?”

“It was always about what you want.”

She gave him a look. As she shrugged the heavier coat back on her shoulders, and he tugged the boots off, Elliot said, “You know how you’re always saying I need to find a new catchphrase?”

John pulled one of his shoes on. “Uh-huh.”

“I think you should take your own advice,” Elliot continued. “The whole ‘I’ll give you anything you want, Elliot’ bit just doesn’t hit the same when you spent the whole time lying to me.”

“I—” He let out a frustrated breath, pulling his other shoe on. “I meant it when I said it, Elliot.”

“Fucking me,” Elliot replied, “does not amount to giving me anything I want.”

“But it is what you wanted,” John retorted.

“Among other things.”

“Among other things,” he agreed.

They stood like that for a minute, regarding each other with tight expressions and the sourness of their exchange still lingering in his mouth. John exhaled through his nose and passed a hand over his face. It was one thing to be on edge because Sylvia had come right out and said she didn’t like him; another to then follow-up with a conversation that reminded him of his existential dread; yet another to be putting up with Elliot’s vitriol.

“When I said,” he began, “that I l—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t fucking say it.”

“When I said it, I meant it,” he amended tartly. “I said a lot of things that I didn’t mean, too, but I meant that.”

“Yeah?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “You didn’t mean to tell me that I’m never going to find someone that’s going to love me and all of my ugly too, is that what you’re trying to say? That whole ‘no one’s going to love you with all that red in your ledger’ bit was just a fun little jab—”

“No,” John replied evenly, feeling that petty little spike in his chest, “I meant that.”

His words seemed to catch her off-guard, immediately unseating her. The expression that crossed her face was bewildered; the animosity had fled it, and instead what replaced it was hurt—bright and blooming across her features, flushed under her skin in a gorgeous high color. It wasn’t unlike the flush in her cheeks from when she’d been frenzied by the killing of Kian, and it looked just as beautiful now, too.

John thought, I love her, just like this. Wretched and wicked and furious with me. Hurt and needing.

He had seen her in fury, in grief. Watched the remains of what happened when she sank her teeth in down to the bone, whether it was to kill or to howl in her sorrow. And he had loved her then, too.

I meant it, he thought, because no one is good enough to love you except for me.

“Well, it doesn’t fucking matter,” Elliot replied after a minute. Though her words carried with them the same cadence any other angry response would have, her voice sounded small, like he’d sucked the wind right out of her sails. “What you think, it doesn’t matter. You don’t know fuck all about me or what kind of person could love me, and—” Her lashes fluttered. “And fuck you, John.”

John watched her expression for any giveaway that he’d gotten where he wanted: inside. Before, he’d known her quite well—could gauge her anger and her grief and catch it before it exploded. Now, with the baby, things had changed a little.

“I think I’m familiar with exactly the kind of person who could love you,” he said after a moment. And then, gesturing ahead of him: “Shall we?”

The tension in her jaw tightened, flattening and flexing the muscle when she clenched her teeth. Those spiteful little eyes; he’d missed them, missed the way she’d looked at him. As of late, she’d gotten too comfortable withholding her attention from him.

Get Elliot and baby. Get home.

It was a mantra now, running its track in his head over and over until it wore a rut into his brain. As Elliot brushed past him to walk to the car, and he fell into step trailing behind her just a foot or so, he let the words sink in. He’d gotten distracted; strayed from the path—but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Joseph was right. He was good, and he would just have to make Elliot see that.

One way or another.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Staci Pratt was doing alright, all things considered.

The Veteran’s Center was empty. Had been for weeks, in fact—after a particularly tense call with Joseph, Jacob had evacuated most all of his Chosen except a select few into the bunker and locked it down. He’d grabbed his keys, looked Pratt dead in the eyes and said, “I want to see you sitting in that chair waiting for me when I get back, Peaches.”

How long was he going to be gone? That was a question that had been sitting on Pratt’s brain for the last two months.

It might have been more than that; it honestly could have been a little less, too. He had no idea. Three days after Jacob had left with his chosen, and left Pratt in the Veteran’s Center, the radio chatter had fuzzed out. Interrupted by something. A day after that, he saw strange convoys along the streets.

Well, he’d thought, Jacob did say to stay put.

So, stay put he did.

There was food, and water, and even though the snow was falling, the place stayed pretty warm. He hadn’t heard Jacob’s voice on the radio for weeks. He’d stopped checking it. He thought that since it had been so long, maybe Jacob and the others were—

“Staci,” came a sweet voice from the other room, “come here, quickly!”

Pratt pulled himself to his feet. His limbs felt heavy, but pleasantly so; like he’d been grounded to the earth, finally, at last. For a second, the floor seemed to stretch out under his feet, as far as he could see; the leaves, having blown in before the snow through then-open windows, folded and melded against his shoes. Like they were trying to be with him. What had he gotten up for again?

“Staci!” The sing-song voice came again. Dani, he thought, taking an unsteady step forward. Shit, Dani’s calling me. That’s what I got up for.

“Coming,” he managed out, taking a few steps and then catching his momentum and carrying himself into the next room over. The glossy-haired brunette was sitting with her legs tucked up at the desk, watching the security monitors avidly. Sheridan had come knocking a few days after the convoys had passed, and at the time, Staci had thought she was some kind of test—after all, Jacob had said to stay put. Sitting in that chair, waiting for me when I get back. That’s what he’d said. Getting up for a pretty girl at the door was directly disobeying him.

But he’d let her in, because she smelled good and smiled at him with pearly teeth and a cute accent he couldn’t place, and asked if he had room for her in the building, and said things like, You can call me Dani, if you want!

That was what—four weeks ago? Maybe more? She’d made herself at home, explained she’d gotten lost from her family and that she’d been worried because she saw strangers with guns running around. She had food, and water, and warm clothes, and—

Drugs. The “herbal” kind. It will open you to the influence, Dani had told him, giggling when he blinked owlishly at her. Brings you closer to the earth, Staci. It feels nice, I promise. Pratt thought it might have been Bliss, at first, but it was different; it didn’t jar him on his way down, the crash felt so much gentler, and Dani offered it to him to use whenever he wanted, and he just wanted to feel. Good. For a little while. That’s all. Just a tiny while.

It wasn’t hard, to feel good around Dani. It was like he’d spent all that time in constant fear and stress, listening to Jacob tallying body counts from Elliot. Sometimes the redhead would suck his teeth and say, what the fuck is my brother doing with that girl? and shake his head, and the idea that Jacob Seed wanted to turn Elliot into a perfect killer had washed him with a cold, ferocious dread.

Then, Jacob had left. No more body counts. No more radio calls, listening to the redhead’s urgent voice from the other side of the door. A tiny while had turned into four weeks, and now he was here: stumbling his way into the security room where she was curled up. Somewhere in the distance, a little alarm bell went off in his head. Jacob would be so mad, that alarm bell said. He would be so mad, so fucking mad, so so so mad.

But the thought was a small voice, easily washed out by Dani’s blinding smile when he got close.

“You remember I was telling you about my family?” she asked. She was tearing tiny bites off of a piece of fruit leather; Pratt reached blindly around in one of the drawers and pulled out a bag of beef jerky.

“Yeah, you said they’d be looking for you,” Pratt replied. That was weeks ago, he thought to add, but did not. “Did you find—?”

His eyes fixed on the screen. It was a stranger there, on the screen—which was to be expected—but she didn’t look like Dani. Not at all. They looked to be the same age only, but the woman on the screen had short-cropped, light-colored hair, and she was swathed in dark fabrics high up to her throat.

“That is my sister,” Dani told him excitedly.

“No way,” Pratt said, blinking at the screen. The woman on the screen was obviously not related to Dani by blood. He watched her move, wraithlike, a ghost skimming along the side path up to the F.A.N.G. center—one of the only places Jacob had left some of his Chosen out and about.

Oh, no, he thought suddenly. Oh fuck, this is bad. Oh fuck, Dani’s gonna watch her sister get killed, holy shit—

“We have to stop her,” he blurted out, starting to fumble around for one of the radio’s batteries—he was sure he could charge it up enough, he was sure, he was sure, slamming the walkie talkie on to the charger he’d conveniently left off because he didn’t want Jacob calling for him—when he saw the flicker of one of the Chosen coming out around one of the building’s corners, suspicious. “Um—that guy, he’s—”

“Shh, shshsh,” Dani said, waving her hand at him and watching the screen. “Do not be so noisy. I am watching.”

“Dani, you don’t understand,” Pratt tried again, more urgently, “that man is going to—”

The brunette made a sharp little noise, a quick tst, and planted a bit of fruit leather in her mouth, knee tucked up against her chest. It was like she was watching a movie. It was like—

Oh, God, Pratt thought, swallowing thickly as the figure of Dani’s “sister” came scooting around the corner behind the Chosen. She was going to get killed. She was going to get fucking murdered, right there on screen, in front of this nice young woman who’d been nothing but kind to him, and he was going to have to explain to her what it was he’d watched Jacob do and—

Something sleek and metal glinted on the video feed. Dani’s sister was not sneaking, anymore, but grabbed the chosen’s shoulder with one hand and drove the point of her blade straight into the junction of his shoulder and neck.

It was hard to make out expressions on the screen, details and nuances, but there was one thing clear from the woman’s body language: she was not troubled, fighting for her life, and she had done this before.

“Dani,” Pratt whispered, feeling his stomach lurch when the knife was pulled out of the Chosen’s neck, arterial spray coloring the ground in black and white on the computer screen. “Dani, what is—”

“You are going to miss it,” Dani told him, shooting him an annoyed look.

“Miss what?” he croaked. He didn’t want to look. He didn’t want to see whatever it was Dani was afraid of him missing. The only thing he wanted was—

But she reached up, snagging his hand and squeezing it absently. She had been doing that sort of thing a lot—touching. She’d bring his hand to her pulse so that they could breathe in tandem, touch their foreheads like she was checking him for a fever, take his hand while she walked through the halls and looked around. Another thing Jacob would be furious about, if he found out.

When he found out.

Dani’s hand offered him little comfort now, though. She leaned in to the screen a little and murmured, something in a thick, rolling language that Pratt couldn’t quite make out, and said, “Oh, how many people do you think are there?”

“I don’t know,” he said, fixing his eyes back on the screen. “I don’t know, a lot, Dani, there’s probably a lot—”

There were a lot. There were a lot of them, crawling around the F.A.N.G. center, and he watched Dani; watched her watching the screen as her sister—“sister”—dispatched each one of them with distinct, violent ease. Like it was a dance. One, two, three, waltzing as she picked up whatever she could find and used it to incur blunt force trauma.

Blood, everywhere. Viscera when she shot both kneecaps of one out. Spray when she pushed yet another’s face into a broken plank of wood, falling off of the side of the building. The picture was in black and white, but even still, Pratt could see it: red, everywhere. Red in the snow. Red on her hands. Red on their faces, on their clothes, on her knife on the gun because she twisted it out of one of their hands and pushed it into his mouth and fired, insides painting the wall of the building behind him.

So. Much. Blood.

“What—” Pratt swallowed, his mouth dry as sandpaper. Suddenly, feeling like the world was a conveyor belt under his feet didn’t sit so well anymore. “What is—?”

“This is the important part,” Dani told him. “You have to watch her. Återfödelse.”

“What does—”

“Shh.”

He watched. He watched, and he wished that he hadn’t, because the woman on the screen shrugged out of her coat, pulled some black latex gloves out of her pocket, and snapped them on.

And then, she gutted them.

Like fish.

Stripped their shirts and jackets off. Cut them from the hollows of their throats down to the tops of their jeans—which she had enough generosity to leave on them—and then scooped their insides out like a butcher at home in her own work shop. Scooped them, dumped them, sat them up against the wall of the building. The woman moved with the unhurried but thorough, single-minded pace of a woman determined to finish her plate and lick it clean.

He was going to be sick. He was going to be fucking sick. He pushed the forgotten bag of beef jerky onto the countertop beside the computer. Dani must have thought he was offering it to her, because though she was fully engrossed in her sister’s work, she said sweetly, “Oh, no thank you. I am vegetarian.”

Pratt pulled away from the computer screen and the chair where Sheridan sat, admiring the bloody gore being laid out before her. The world pushed and pulled in his vision in time with his rapidly increasing heartbeat; he stumbled into the next room, reaching blindly out of muscle memory alone before his fingers found the edge of the trash can and he could bend over and throw up whatever was in his stomach.

He was wrong. This was worse than Bliss—Bliss was one kind of trip, and you knew immediately what it was going to be from the start. But this? This was a fucking nightmare. Each time he closed his eyes he kept seeing them, Jacob’s Chosen, entrails scattered in the snow and jaws lax and ribcages split open.

Fuck, he thought, breathing over the trash can as another wave of nausea hit him. Fuck fuck fuck, fuck fuck—

“Oh, Staci,” came Dani’s sugared voice, teeming with pure, unadulterated sympathy, rippling bright pink and blinding in his vision. How long had he been knelt over the trash can like this? “Are you feeling unwell? It can be a lot, you know. The first time you see it.”

“There—” Pratt lifted his head weakly, looking at the girl who’d happened to wander in here, just after he’d seen those glossy gray vans patrolling the area. Separated from my family, she’d said. “It happens more?”

His words came out in a wail, pitching almost into hysterical. Dani clicked her tongue, smoothing the hair back from his forehead in a gesture that was supposed to comfort him.

“Of course it does,” she told him, crouching beside him, bringing his hand up to her cheek. “Återfödelse. Rebirth. It will happen to us all. If we are lucky, Helmi will be the one who does it for us.”

The last thing he wanted was for that woman—Helmi—to do anything for him. He struggled to keep his eyes open, the exhaustion of his adrenaline and the crash of his high digging straight into his skeleton.

I have to get the fuck out of here, he thought. I have to get out of here and tell—tell the others—tell Jerome and Hudson and Elliot and—

“It is okay,” Dani murmured, planting her hand on the back of his neck and giving it a little squeeze. “She knows I am here. That was good thinking, to get the radio all charged up.”

It took every ounce of his strength not to moan in misery at that. The brunette smiled at him, radiantly and with pearly teeth, and he was suddenly filled with dread at the idea that there may be someone out there worse than the Seeds.

“You should lay down, get some rest,” she suggested gently. Coming to a stand, Dani glanced back at the monitors, and then back at him, lips still quirked in that pleasant little smile.

“You will want to be at full speed when she gets here.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Things in the car were uncomfortable. That is to say, Elliot was still nursing whatever wound his honesty had given her, and regarding him warily out of the corner of her eye every time he attempted to strike up conversation with her.

I’m not going to apologize, John thought resolutely, between the stop at the pharmacy and the house. I meant it. I’m not going to apologize for something I meant. And mean. I know I’m the only one meant for—

“What is going on?” he asked, slowing to a crawl when he came to the turn up the Honeysett’s driveway. It was packed with cars—lining the parking area in a little cluster. The redhead beside him let out a frustrated, agonized little moan, burying her face into her hands.

“It’s Tuesday,” Elliot replied tartly.

“Okay, and?”

“Tuesday’s the day mama has all of her debutante friends over.” She shifted in the passenger seat, gesturing with her hand. “Well, you gonna park or what?”

John’s mouth pressed into a thin line. Great. An audience, a crowd, for the impenetrable, unshakeable tension sitting just there, right between them. But even now, it was a relief; all of those weeks spent without her had reminded him that even when things hadn’t been the most ideal, when they’d been fighting constantly, at least it had been something. As long as she wasn’t acting like he didn’t exist.

“Can’t wait,” is what he said, pulling the Jeep down the long drive and parking it where no one would need to have him move it later. Through the glass, he could see gauzy shapes milling about, drenched in amber light; Southern women, hair curled and faces powdered and the flowy fabrics of their loose-fitted (and yet, somehow still miraculously tailored) clothes, martini glasses in hand.

Elliot said, “Stepford housewife does seem on-brand for you.”

He shot her a dry look. “I prefer my women with a bit more bite to them.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

So, it was going to go great, then.

As he made his way up the steps, Elliot paused, turning and looking at him before they could reach the door. He looked at her expectantly; eyebrows lifted.

“I don’t have to tell you to behave,” she began.

“No, you don’t.”

“But I will anyway.” Elliot’s hand rested on the doorknob. “These women are nicer than mama. They’ll want to know all about you, ask you tons of questions—I need you to give them vanilla answers. The most vanilla. You’ve gotta be as unthreatening as a wafer, John.”

Still recovering from the pleasant swoon of hearing the words I need you come out of Elliot’s mouth, John said, “Scout’s honor, Ell.”

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. Loose wisps of ginger hair tumbled out of the half-pony she’d slung her hair in, and her eyes darted—unsure, wetting her lips, like there was something that she wanted to say to him but she didn’t quite trust herself to.

“I’m—” She stopped.

“They’re going to wonder why we’re standing out here.”

“I’m trusting you,” Elliot bit out. The words were almost as sweet as I need you, he thought. “Trusting you not to...take advantage of the fact that I may or may not have omitted important information about what was going on back home. I would really like it, John, if we could get through this evening without my life coming apart.”

The urge to reach up and brush the hair from her face, cup her cheek—it burned in his fingertips, itching. But he kept his hand at his side and said, mood instantly elated by the idea that Elliot needed something from him, “No nuclear bombs dropping tonight, my love.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We get in and we get out, no casualties.”

“Just like old times,” John agreed. “Sans the ‘no casualties’ bit, of course.”

Elliot’s mouth twisted. He thought she might have been trying to stop herself from smiling, but the expression was wiped so quickly from her face that he didn’t have any time to dwell on it too long before she opened the front door and he was hit with a blast of heat and floral perfume.

Oh, yeah, he thought, stepping inside after Elliot to the sound of bright, vibrant chatter cascading over soft music playing in the background, that’s debutantes.

“Is that Elliot?” exclaimed one woman, perhaps a few years older than Scarlet, coming to a stand and setting her glass to the side as she hurried over to wrap Elliot in a hug. “My goodness, look at you. You dyed your hair, didn’t you? I love it, it’s beautiful, sugar.”

“You’re home late,” Scarlet remarked as Elliot shrugged out of her jacket, perched on the couch. Boomer had come racing down the stairs at the sound of someone’s arrival, little feet tapping excitedly against the carpet as he begged for Elliot’s attention.

“We had to make a stop, mama. And—thank you,” Ell replied, clearing her throat, returning the embrace for a second before she pulled away. The interaction was an interesting one to watch—and gave him, perhaps, more insight into the dynamic between Scarlet and Elliot than his wife would have wanted. After all, it wasn’t Scarlet getting up to embrace her pregnant daughter after not knowing where she was all day.

Elliot turned and gestured to John with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Her hands had gone to Boomer, though, rubbing his ears—more for her benefit than his, it seemed. “Delia, this is—um, John. John, this is Delia, she’s—kinda like my aunt.”

The woman, Delia, turned bright eyes on him. “Well, um John, isn’t it nice to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, hugging him tight and filling his senses with perfume and chiffon.

“Pleasure,” John replied, beaming, “is all mine, I assure you, kinda Aunt Delia.”

She’d been right, of course. All of the women in the room regarded the two of them with nothing short of warmth, glowing curiosity—certainly, they gossiped, but nothing quite as scathing as Scarlet Honeysett’s own impression of him and even, to an extent, Elliot. For the most part, the matriarch’s disdain of him was carefully bottled, though she made no move to greet him or show him off like a mother-in-law ought to.

“John is Elliot’s husband,” Scarlet said lightly from the couch, where the other women made various noises of feigned excitement and disappointment alike. He could about hear Elliot wanting to crumple in on herself.

Delia left one hand on John’s shoulder, the other affectionately twisting one of Elliot’s coppery curls and letting it fall to the side. “Dyed hair, married—honey, is there somethin’ you haven’t been up to? And what about a weddin’?”

John had never seen Ell turn into such a shrinking violet before. She blinked owlishly at the women—even the one she claimed close enough to be her Aunt—and shifted on her feet.

“We didn’t really think about it,” Ell managed out shyly, cheeks flaring pink. “And no, I haven’t, but—well, except—”

Painful. It was painful, how much she was suffering through this. “It was an unconventional thing,” he supplied easily, flashing a charming smile. “We thought about maybe having a nice reception, but we’re just not in a rush right now. Can’t do anything nice in the middle of winter, after all.”

Instant relief flooded Elliot’s face. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“Finally,” Delia hummed, “a man who has some taste. You know, Scarlet, my boy’s been trying to find indoor places to have his weddin’. I asked him, what, does he think folks want to be sweatin’ like a sinner in church the second they step foot in there? It’s no less than—come here, John, honey, you can sit with me—no less than two hundred guests, and...”

John let Delia manhandle him into a chair nearby the fireplace. It had been quite a blow to his ego to have Scarlet regarding him with so much disgust, like he wasn’t even worth her time of day; even now, when his mother-in-law came to a stand, beckoning Elliot into the kitchen with a single elegant hand into the kitchen, she barely spared him a glance. Like he was nothing.

That’s where she gets it from, he thought dryly. Honeysett women.

“John, you ever been to one of Scarlet’s Christmas parties, honey?” Delia asked him, jarring him out of his thoughts. He planted a polite smile on his face.

“Unfortunately, I’ve not had the opportunity,” he replied lightly. This was easy—older women, dying to know more about him? Easy as pie. “Christmas is next week, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Delia replied, patting his hand. “You’ll have to come. I mean, of course you’ll come—Elliot will be there. Where are you staying? Scarlet didn’t put you up in a motel, did she? I’ll tell you what, I hear the most awful stories about that place. In fact, just the other day, Justine Adler was telling me...”

The woman launched into another bustle of gossip, busying herself with pouring a drink which was then promptly planted in John’s hand. Somewhere close to halfway into that, Scarlet and Elliot returned, the older woman resuming her spot at the center of the couch and Elliot sitting herself on the ground beside him, back to the fireplace.

He leaned over, as the women burst into glittering laughter, and said, “Wanted to sit by me instead of your mother, huh?”

“She told me to pretend like we like each other,” Elliot muttered back. “What are you drinking?”

John flashed her a grin. “Delia made it for me.”

“Elli,” Delia said sweetly from the chair, “do you want somethin’ to drink, too?”

Elliot flushed. “No thank you, ma’am. I’m alright.”

“Well, if you’re sure.”

The conversation resumed, and John let a few beats go by before he leaned to the side again; this time, he pitched his voice lower, and he saw Elliot tuck the hair behind her ear. “I like when your accent comes out,” he told her, turning his head to look at her, and she did the same at the same time, putting them almost nose to nose. “It’s cute.”

“You’re on thin ice, buddy,” she replied, eyes narrowing. “I haven’t forgotten what you said.”

“I’m counting on that elephant’s memory of yours, Elli.”

“John, are you fixing to get glassed or what?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from hitting his face again. She had to behave here—she couldn’t kick up a bit fuss about it. But even when she asked him if he was trying to get his face bashed in, a little bit of wry amusement bled into her voice, like muscle memory demanded the jab be more playful than threatening.

“I’ll drink to your health,” John added amenably, “and merciful nature.”

She squinted at him, the corner of her mouth twisting into something close to a smile.

“Sure, John,” she replied. “You’ll need all the help you can get on that front, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time the last lady had left and the glasses and plates were cleaned up, night had fallen deep and dark over the Graves (Honeysett) home. Elliot thought she’d never been more tired her entire life than she had been sitting through that little gathering, listening to the women ply John with questions about what he did and what he was doing, and how did they meet, and wasn’t he just so happy to be down here in Weyfield? Wasn’t he so pleased to have Scarlet as a mother-in-law?

To his credit, John upheld his promise to behave. He took only one alcoholic drink from Delia and spent the rest of the time sipping it, engaging more freely with the other women than she’d seen him do with her own mother or even Sylvia—likely because they had no reason to dislike him. On a surface level, John Seed was a very charismatic man. Charming. Thoughtful. Perceptive. He laughed and he made the ladies laugh, and even her mother seemed a little pleased; not without her carefully placed jabs, but for a second in time, Elliot felt less like she was going crazy and more like a normal girl. A real girl.

It made her think about the night she’d first met him, almost two years ago now, and the way he’d looked at her and said, a lot can happen in a week, beautiful. She’d been a fucking fool back then, and in a lot of ways, Elliot thought she still was a fool—but at least she was on the defense. At least she felt comfortable with the idea that her baby might never know John, in any capacity.

She was ready to cut and run, if needed.

And why haven’t you? Something inside of her asked, as she moved up the steps and stopped at her bedroom door. Why haven’t you cut and run already?

“Elliot?” John turned to look at her, pausing when she did. His eyes were inquisitive. No, not inquisitive—prying. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in my bed?”

Lonely, another part of her replied. We haven’t cut and run because we’re lonely.

“I’m sure,” she said after a second. “Nice try, though.”

“You’re still mad,” he said, his voice rumbling teasingly. His eyes darted over her, lingering on her mouth before fixing on her eyes. “Didn’t I do good? Just what you asked?”

“You—did,” Elliot allowed after a moment. It was true. “But of course I’m still mad, you fucking idiot. You told me no one was ever going to love me, and that you meant it.”

John sighed. There was a brief moment where he neither said nor did anything, but after a second he reached up and swept the hair from her shoulder. The gesture made her skin prickle; anticipation curled at the base of her spine and began its stretch, luxurious and leisurely, up to her neck. Tight, tingling anticipation, when his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

Push him away, she thought.

“I do mean it,” he said, “because, I don’t think—”

Push his hand off of you.

“—anyone else is going to love you—”

He was closer now, much closer than before, like she’d blinked and suddenly he was there, in her space. Elliot felt her lashes flutter; the smell of his cologne washed over her, drowning out all of the alarm bells in her head, speaking to a creature inside of her that craved comfort.

“—the way that I can love you.”

John’s forehead brushed hers. So close, too close—but she thought about waking up this morning and the way he’d put his hand just there, in the same place, the way he’d murmured concernedly, you said you’ve been sleeping fine.

“Ell.” His voice was pitched soft, low, something safe and warm and just between them, his fingers threading into the hair at the base of her skull, and now their noses brushed, and John had crowded her up gently against the doorframe, just the way that he knew she liked. “I want to kiss you.”

Elliot’s throat felt tight. I want to kiss you too, that wretched, sad little thing inside of her said, but instead she thought of something else—she thought about John, holding her under the water, and John, saying enough of that sad little whimpering, deputy, you’re pulling on my heartstrings, and John, spitting mad, telling her he was never ever going to take her back even though no one was going to love her because of the things she’d done.

“Can’t,” she managed out, her voice hoarse. “You can’t.”

John exhaled through his nose, his eyes shutting like he was trying to stop himself—from saying something, doing something that he wanted to do very much but would regret later. It took a second, but once she gathered herself, she reached up and gripped his wrist with her hand, applying just a little pressure—and that was all it took for him to drop his hand from her neck.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. It sounded more like a way to console himself rather than an answer to her. He passed a hand through his hair.

“We can’t.”

“Okay, alright. No kissing.” He lifted his hands in a show of innocence. “You’re the boss.” The brunette’s eyes glided over her face for a moment, almost ruefully, before he stepped back and started heading down the hall. “Goodnight, Elliot.”

She stayed put, up against the doorframe to her bedroom, fingers curled into fists. Everything in her felt like it was burning—rioting, that she had denied herself something that might give her some temporary relief, some temporary pleasure.

But it wasn’t just about her, anymore.

“John,” she said, waiting until he turned to look at her. “Why are you even here?”

He stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she continued, hating the little tremble in her voice, “did you come here because you wanted to be with the baby and I, or did you come here because you were mad we left?”

Elliot watched the muscle of his jaw tense and tighten, flexing as he tried to come up with an answer. And he was, having to come up with one, because he was doing that thing where he wanted to say something that was true to him and would make her happy.

And she didn’t want that. She just wanted him to be honest.

“Alright, good talk.”

“Elliot, listen,” he started, and she stepped into her bedroom, shaking her head.

“Goodnight, John.”

She closed the door behind her, pleased to not hear any follow-up knocks on her door or John’s voice coming through the wood. It was five minutes of waiting before she finally dragged herself into her pajamas, put a sleeping pill in her mouth, and crawled into bed with Boomer curled into her knees.

That’s okay, Elliot thought tiredly, shifting and closing her eyes. That’s alright. It can be just you and I, baby.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Staci?”

Roused from his sleep, Pratt lifted his head. When had he fallen asleep? How long had he been sleeping? He struggled to a sitting position, clearing his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly to try and get them to focus. It was Dani’s face that came into view, then, her hair slung up in a ponytail and her nose scrunching up in an amused little smile.

“Good morning. You must have been exhausted, you slept for so long,” she teased him, and for a second he felt relief flood over him. It had been a dream. It had all been an awful dream. Now, more than ever, he was sure that he needed to get to the Resistance—take Dani with him and get out of this fucking nightmare of a building. Yeah. Then he’d feel better.

“Yeah, I must have been,” he said a little sheepishly, his voice rough from sleep. “Hey, d’you think we could—”

“Is he finally awake?”

The voice that came from the other room filtered straight into his brain, crisp and sharp and distinctly un-accented. The sound of footsteps echoed across the tile before an unfamiliar woman filled up the doorway, leaning one shoulder against it and regarding him with dark, scrutinizing eyes.

No. Not unfamiliar. Very familiar, painfully familiar, disgustingly, awfully—

“Yes, Helmi,” Dani replied warmly, “he is awake. It was his first time seeing Återfödelse.”

The woman, dark and swathed in fabric up to her throat, swept her eyes over him. “Dani told me you puked.”

“I-I-” Pratt tried to function through the panic in his brain, rioting bells going off nonstop. Helmi had washed herself of any blood, that did nothing to erase the image of her driving a man’s face into a splintered plank until he was skewered on it, or the way she had methodically emptied out Jacob’s own chosen and propped them up.

To get found. To send a message.

“You?” Helmi prompted, her voice flinty. “You what, boy?”

“He is still coming down,” Dani said, pouting her lips. She no longer struck him as affectionate on an equal level, but instead gave him the distinct feeling of a girl fawning over a cute animal. An animal she thought was also stupid.

“Why do you think he’s been holed up in the big one’s base of operations? He’s their lap dog,” the blonde bit out. She took a few steps over, leaning down—she was tall, but dextrous, her mouth curving in a smile that was distinctly threatening. She reached up, and when Pratt felt his body flinch, she grabbed his chin. “Aren’t you, doggy?”

“I-I’m not!” he said quickly, jerking his face out of her grip. “I’m not, I swear, I don’t even like the Seeds, I swear I don’t, Jacob was keeping me here and then he got everyone in the bunker and—”

“Wait,” Helmi said, eyes narrowing. “You know where the bunker is?”

“Yes!” Pratt said quickly. His eyes darted between Helmi and Dani, nervous. “I do, I know where it is, but—but no one can get in without Jacob now. Everyone in there is locked down until h-he gets back.”

“I told you,” Dani said to Helmi eagerly. “I told you he was helpful, Helmi.”

Helmi sucked her teeth, giving him one last scathing once-over before she planted a pleasant smile on her face.

“Come on, doggy,” she said, grabbing Staci’s shirt collar and hauling him to his feet. “You and I are going to make a little trip. And—”

She paused, thoughtful, even as Pratt scrabbled to push her hands off of him. They made his skin crawl—long and elegant, but he had seen what they could do. What they had done. Helmi shoved the walkie into his hands, as well as a heavy coat.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know about our friends the Seeds on the way there?”

#fic: witching hour #john seed x female deputy #my writing #ch: elliot honeysett #ch: john seed #ch: helmi #ch: sheridan stark #ch: staci pratt #i have sated my desire for blood and now we can get back to getting these two idiots to fucking kiss already #far cry 5 fic #far cry 5 oc #john seed/female deputy #fc5 oc

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rpf-bat · 4 years

Text

All The Stars In Your City Nights

Pairing: Frank Iero x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 2. Prompt: “Moon”.

You and your bandmates have been touring nonstop, in support of The Black Parade. On a rare night off, Frank asks you come to the rooftop with him. From this vantage point, you witness something even rarer - a lunar eclipse.

The Black Parade World Tour was in full swing. You, and the other members of My Chemical Romance, were currently in South America. Last night, you’d played a sold-out show in São Paulo. Tomorrow morning, you’d get back on your tour bus, and begin the long drive to Buenos Aires. But, tonight, you had a short reprieve. You were staying the night in a luxury hotel in Brazil.

I should try and get some sleep, you told yourself, staring up at the nondescript hotel room ceiling. Bus call is gonna be early as hell.

Suddenly, you heard a knock at your door. You slid off the bed, wondering who would be bothering you so late at night.

You opened the door and found your bandmate, Frank, grinning at you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he greeted.

“Frankie?” you blinked sleepily. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Yeah, but I knew you’d be up,” Frank chuckled. “Come on, I got something to show you.”

“But, I’m in my pajamas,” you argued, blushing.

“That’s okay,” Frank shrugged. “We won’t be leaving the hotel property, anyway.”

“Then, where are we going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just….trust me,” Frank said mysteriously, lacing his calloused fingers with yours. You didn’t want to admit how much you liked that.

Curious, you began to follow him down the hall. Still holding hands with you, he led you up a flight of stairs, and then another, until you came to a heavy-looking black door. The sign on the door, read “Roof Access”.

“We’re going out onto the roof?” you realized.

“Yeah,” Frank grinned. “Just wait until you see it.”

With that, he turned the knob, and opened the door.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

“There’s a pool up here?” you gasped.

“Yup,” Frank smiled, looking at the moon, reflected in the chlorinated water. “It’s not usually open at this hour. But I may have, uhh, slipped the hotel staff a couple hundred reais, to ‘encourage’ them to allow us up here.”

“Seriously?” you chuckled.

“Seriously,” Frank confirmed. “But, for the record, that’s, like, less than fifty bucks in American money!”

“Are you gonna tell the guys that this is up here?” you wondered.

“Maybe tomorrow, before we leave,” Frank replied. “For tonight….I was thinking it could just be our little secret.”

“Fine by me,” you grinned conspiratively.

“So, you wanna go for a swim?” Frank suggested.

“I didn’t pack my bathing suit,” you confessed.

“Just jump in, in your clothes, then,” Frank suggested. “That’s what I was gonna do.”

“What? No!”

“Unless you’d rather skinny-dip?” Frank smirked.

“As if!” you scoffed.

“Well, I’m getting in,” Frank shrugged. He stripped off his shirt, revealing the tattooed chest beneath. You tried not to stare.

His pants came next. Down to his boxers, Frank cannonballed into the pool, seemingly without a care in the world.

“Dive in, Y/N!” Frank encouraged, splashing around like a kid. “The water’s warm! It feels really nice!”

“....Fine,” you decided, pulling off your pajama pants, and exposing the cotton panties underneath. You reasoned, that they were no more revealing, than a bikini bottom would be. The tank top, which matched the pants, stayed on. You were, after all, wearing nothing beneath it.

You sat down on the edge of the pool, letting the water lap at your calves. Frank was right - it did feel kinda nice.

He swam over to you. “Won’t you get in the rest of the way?” he coaxed.

“I don’t know,” you hesitated.

Frank put his feet on the pool’s floor. It was shallow enough, at this end, for even a short guy like him to stand up properly. He leaned over, and wrapped his arms around your waist. His touch was electric.

“Whoa!” you gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Pulling you in,” Frank laughed, and dragged you, tumbling, into the water.

“Ack!” you cried. Water filled your mouth for a moment. You surfaced quickly, and spit it out. “No fair!”

You splashed water at him, to pay him back.

“Hey!” he cackled, putting his hands up, to protect his face. “Cut it out!”

“That’s what you get!” you giggled, splashing the water into his hair.

“Pffft!” he spat. “Ok, I’m sorry!”

Your sides hurt from laughing. You hadn’t gotten into a splash fight like this since you were a little kid.

“....Do you forgive me?” he asked, starting to wind down.

“Yeah,” you smiled. You lay down, and just floated on your back for a moment. “You’re right….this is pretty nice.”

He floated there with you, quietly. It was peaceful.

“Wow,” you realized, staring up at the sky. “You can see so many stars from up here.”

“That reminds me!” Frank blinked. “There’s another reason that I wanted you to come up here with me tonight.”

“What is it?” you wondered.

“So, I was reading the newspaper this morning…,” Frank began.

“Wait, the newspaper here?” you interrupted. “I thought Ray was the only one of us, who spoke Portuguese.”

“I’ve been practicing!” Frank admitted shyly. “When our fans come up to us after the show, to get autographs and stuff, I want to be able to talk to them more. I mean, I know a lot of them speak English, too, but….”

“That’s really sweet,” you smiled softly.

Frank blushed.

“So…,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “The newspaper said, that there’s supposed to be a lunar eclipse tonight.”

“Wow!” you gasped. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Frank nodded. “We should get out of the pool, so we can see it better.”

He swam towards the ladder first, and climbed out, then offered you a hand to help you up.

“Oh, my hair’s soaking wet,” you complained. “I’m gonna catch a cold, if we sit out here too long.”

“I know it’s winter right now,” Frank shrugged, “but it’s still Brazil. The temperature doesn’t get below seventy.”

“Yeah, you have a point,” you realized.

“Here,” Frank offered. “I brought up a towel, from the bathroom, in my hotel room.”

“Oh, thank you,” you replied, trying to take it from him.

“I’ll do it,” he insisted. He put his hands on either side of your face, and started rubbing the towel against your hair, drying it for you.

“I...I can do it myself,” you stammered. His face was so close to yours. You couldn’t stop staring as a drop of water dripped slowly, from the scorpion on his neck, to the “And” in “Search And Destroy”, on his waist. His bare skin seemed to nearly glow in the moonlight. You longed to touch it.

“....I think I got it,” Frank whispered, pulling away. “Come on. We should sit down.”

Your legs were like jelly, as you kneeled on the second towel, that he had set on the ground. He sat beside you, and wrapped the hair towel around the both of you, like a blanket.

“If you’re really worried about catching cold,” he said softly, “why don’t you come a little closer?”

Your heart wouldn’t stop racing. Suddenly, you looked up at the sky, and realized that the eclipse was starting.

At first, it looked like a shadow, sliding across the moon. Then, slowly, the shadow grew larger, overtaking the light. It was like the whole moon, was being swallowed by darkness.

It’s almost scary, you thought. Frank squeezed your hand, which you hadn’t even realized he was holding.

As you continued to gaze upwards, in wonder, the whole horizon became awash with light. The blackness turned into a magnificent, ruby-like red. A blood moon.

“....It’s so beautiful,” you gasped. You were so happy, that Frank had brought you up here, to witness this rare and spectacular lunar beauty.

“.....You’re even more beautiful, Y/N,” Frank said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“.....What?” You tore your eyes away from the moon, to look at him.

His eyes, to your surprise, were filled with desire. He cupped your cheek in his hand, and leaned in close.

“Wh-What are you doing?” you stammered. “The shadow is going to start to recede from the moon….you’re gonna miss it, if you don’t look up…”

“I only have eyes for you,” Frank confessed. “I have for a long time.”

...Huh? your eyes widened. There was no way...could he actually reciprocate the stupid crush, that you’d had on him, all this time?

His lips crashed into yours, making his feelings abundantly clear. Your arms wrapped around his bare back, pulling him closer. His fingers raked your wet hair as he kissed you harder.

“....Frank!” you gasped, pulling away.

“Y/N, I love you,” Frank said passionately. “I’ve had feelings for you, since we first went into the studio, to start recording Black Parade. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, but I couldn’t find the right time. I figured I wasn’t going to get a more romantic night than this….alone, under the stars, in a gorgeous, foreign country…”

“Frankie, I love you, too,” you admitted. “I would have loved you, even if our first kiss had been in some grimy parking lot, while the crew gassed up the tour bus.”

“You mean that?” Frank laughed. “Then...kiss me again.”

You did, and his lips tasted like pool water, and euphoria. You were no longer looking at the moon at all.

#frank iero x reader #frank iero imagine #band member reader #gothtober

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set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

insomnia

prompt: insomnia

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hi!!! i hope that u like this fic :) it’s set after eddie begins and deals a little w the events of that. (also if u look for this on ao3 it has a different title but im gonna keep everything on here titled with the prompt for consistency lol)

In the wake of it, Eddie hasn’t been able to sleep. He’s tried and tried, but the second he falls asleep he’s back underground choking on mud and fighting for his life and that on its own is more exhausting than simply not sleeping, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t sleep if he can help it, and he feels like shit because of it, but it’s better than the nightmares, it’s better than dying every night.

He hasn’t slept more than an hour in days. Weeks, maybe. He’s been doing his best to appear normal, but it’s exhausting. He’s tried to hide it in front of Chris, especially, not wanting him to worry about it, but he can tell the façade is slipping. He catches Chris looking quizzically at him when he jerks himself awake from half-falling asleep on the couch, when he sits and watches Chris and Buck play in the park rather than joining in. He’s slipping.

Pretty soon Buck is going to start noticing it, too, with as much time as they spend together. Then the team will notice. He imagines there will be an uncomfortable combination of irritation and pity thrown his way when it happens. So he does his best to avoid it, acting as normal as he possibly can.

Today, it’s harder. He’d dropped Chris off at school and had nearly gotten into an accident on the way to work - he’d yawned, closing his eyes, and had almost slammed into the back of the truck in front of him. So he wasn’t in the best mood to begin with.

Then, everyone at the station was getting on his nerves. He knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, but every spoon dropped in the kitchen, every shout of laughter from people playing videogames, every squeak of a shoe on the floor, made him feel like punching something. But he was too tired to work out, so he kept the irritation inside of him.

“Hey, Eds, you want a turn?” Buck calls to him from across the room. He’s sitting in front of the TV with Chim, who is doing a victory dance as the screen proclaims him the winner. “Fair warning, Chim cheats.”

“I do not!”

He shakes his head.

Evidently, Buck doesn’t see. “Eddie? You wanna play?”

“I said no,” he snaps, wincing when Buck’s face falls. He might go over to apologize, but just then the alarm rings, far too loudly for his liking.

He trudges down the stairs, too tired to completely pick up his feet, and slumps into his seat in the truck. He catches Buck giving him a look from his spot in the driver’s seat, but then he turns around to pull the truck out of the station, leaving Eddie to stare out the window and ignore everything else going on around him.

When they arrive at the scene, Eddie’s the last out of the truck. As the team makes its way towards their victim (a man with his entire arm stuck inside a vending machine), Buck bumps Eddie’s shoulder in a way Eddie knows is meant to be friendly. He flinches away anyway.

“What’s up?” he asks, and he sounds so genuinely concerned for Eddie’s wellbeing that Eddie half wants to punch him. “You’re acting weird.”

He shrugs, stepping away from Buck, kneeling down next to the victim. “Didn’t sleep well last night,” he says, which isn’t exactly a lie.

They manage to get the guy out after a few minutes of careful maneuvering, and he emerges relatively unscathed, hand wrapped around the candy bar he’d been in the middle of grabbing. He thanks them for their assistance and asks whether the vending machine will be okay, and then ambles off, unwrapping his candy.

The team heads back to their vehicles, Bobby and Buck leading the pack, Buck talking animatedly about something, gesturing with his hands. Chim and Hen walk behind them, and Eddie hears Hen laugh, sees Chimney shake his head at something. He himself walks behind the group, forcing his feet to keep moving. His head pounds - he’s had a headache all week, but in the last half-hour it’s intensified, and every time he moves it feels like something is being slammed into his skull. He briefly considers sitting down right there, in the middle of a parking lot, just to catch his breath. He decides against this because he is genuinely worried that he wouldn’t be able to get back up.

“Eddie,” he hears Bobby call, and he looks up to see that everyone else is back in their spots in the truck and ambulance, save for him.

“Coming,” he says, though it sounds so quiet to his own ears that there’s no way that Bobby had heard him.

He takes a step - and then he’s falling. He feels his palms scrape against asphalt, feels his cheek press into the rough surface. He thinks about standing up, but that’s all the action he’s able to take on the matter.

He hears footsteps run up to him. Someone rolls him over so he’s on his back. Hands press to his neck, checking his pulse. His eyes are opened, and a light shines into them. He flinches away from it, turning his head.

“Eddie? You awake?”

“Always,” he slurs out, moving to push himself up. A hand rests on his arm, pushes him down.

“Hold on there,” Hen says. “You just collapsed. You’re not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Your breathing’s a little shallow, but otherwise your vitals are normal,” Chim says. “Nothing that would have caused you to collapse.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps. “Let me get up.”

A hand is placed on his shoulder - Buck’s hand. “He said he didn’t sleep too good last night,” Buck offers, as Chim dabs his hands with something that makes them sting.

“One night of bad sleep wouldn’t do this,” Hen says, as Chimney moves on to bandaging his hands.

“Eddie,” says Bobby, “when was the last time you slept?”

He doesn’t know. He shrugs.

“Eddie,” Hen’s voice leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t know,” he mutters. “Can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Chim asks, putting a hand to his forehead.

“‘M not sick.”

“Well, something’s the matter,” Buck says. “You’ve been off all day - actually, all week. Quiet. Kinda snappy.”

“What’s going on?” asks Bobby.

“I can’t -” He can’t do this here, can’t admit that he’s terrified to sleep, in a way he hasn’t been since he first returned from Afghanistan. He can’t be weak. Not like this.

Nobody says anything for a long minute. Eddie’s eyes are closed, but he imagines his teammates exchanging glances over his body.

After a bit, he feels Bobby gently grab his freshly-bandaged hand, and then he’s being pulled to his feet. Bobby all but carries him to the truck, and Eddie breathes a mental sigh of relief to feel the leather seat underneath him, instead of the gurney in the back of the ambulance, which he’d feared they’d force him into.

Someone reaches across him and buckles his seatbelt, and he leans his head back against the seat as the truck starts moving.

When they arrive back at the station, Eddie fumbles with his seatbelt and manages to get it off, then forces himself to his feet, where he wavers for a second before carefully stepping out of the truck.

Immediately, Hen is next to him, letting him grab onto her arm when he stumbles. “Easy there,” she tells him, and carefully leads him upstairs, Chim walking very closely behind them like he thinks Eddie’s going to fall backwards at any minute.

Once they are safely upstairs, Hen guides Eddie to the couch and eases him down. She leaves, and a second later she’s pressing a cool bottle of water into his hands. He looks at it. Chim takes it from his hands and opens it, handing it back. “Drink it,” he says sternly, in a voice Eddie just knows he’s gonna get a lot of mileage out of when his new kid comes.

He drinks some of the water with shaking hands. If Chim and Hen notice this, they don’t say anything, a fact he’s grateful for. Hen takes the bottle from him when he’s finished, and Chim pats him on the leg, and then they both get up as someone else approaches. He very slowly turns his head to look.

Buck stands at the end of the couch, smiling softly at him, not a trace of irritation or pity on his face. He walks over to Eddie, extending a hand. Eddie grabs it, letting Buck pull him to his feet and slip an arm around his waist.

“Let’s get you some sleep, okay?” Buck asks.

Eddie shakes his head. He can’t, no matter how much his body might want to.

“Okay,” Buck says, not arguing. “You don’t have to sleep. But you are going to lay down.”

Eddie agrees to that, and they enter the bunkroom, which is empty, seeing as how it’s the middle of the day. Buck pulls Eddie along to his usual bed and gently guides him down.

Without a word, Buck takes off Eddie’s shoes, and then his own. Eddie stretches out along the bed, turning his body to face the wall. He feels Buck sit down beside him, feels the bed move as Buck gets himself comfortable. Neither of them says anything. Eddie tries desperately to keep his eyes open.

“You can sleep, Eddie,” Buck says quietly.

“I can’t,” Eddie whispers. “I’m afraid.”

The admission slips from him a good deal easier than he’d thought it would. “I’m afraid,” he repeats. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back underground…” he trails off, not wanting to elaborate. “I can’t, Buck. What kind of coward can’t even fall asleep?” he asks, half to himself.

“Eddie,” Buck says, sounding stern for the first time all day. “Eddie,” he repeats, putting a hand to his back. “You are the furthest thing from a coward. You went through something traumatizing, and your brain knows that. It keeps reminding you every time you fall asleep. But your body doesn’t know that. It just knows it’s exhausted. You have to sleep.”

“But-”

Buck doesn’t let him protest. “And I know that’s scary, and I know there’s not a lot I can do to help, but I can say this. When I said I had your back, I meant it. I am always gonna be here for you, Eds, whether that means working together on a call or this right here. Anything. I promise I won’t leave you.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, letting his eyes close at last.

“That’s it,” says Buck, and Eddie feels his hand brush through his hair, a repetitive, calming motion. “Let yourself sleep.”

It’s not a magic fix by any means, but when the alarm rings three hours later, Eddie wakes up from a nightmare-less sleep feeling a good deal more alive, with Buck still pressed to his back, just as he’d promised.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday6 #insomnia #911 #eddie diaz #exhaustion #collapse #cared for #my writing #i say things

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kpoppwriter · 4 years

Text

Sharing Is Caring

Genre: SMUT

Words: 2.2k+

Warnings: multiple partners, mild choking, degrading, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, this is just rough and intense be warned

a/n: so I was going to write some fluff but instead I spent 6 hours writing this smut haha ha h a I need help it’s 8am and I haven’t slept

“Hey, you doing anything later?”

You looked up from your phone at the figure in front of you.

“Not much. Probably going to hang at home. Why do you ask, Changgu?”

“Ah, some of the guys were going to go out for drinks later. They wanted me to ask if you wanted to join us.”

“Sure! Sounds fun.”

“Great! We’ll see you later then!”

Changgu left and you turned back to your phone. You typed out a message to your boyfriend Hongseok explaining you’d be home later than expected.

Honk 💕 - girls or guys?

You - guys

Honk 💕 - Mmm I’m interested now

You - oml Hongseok

You - are you really suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?

You didn’t get a text back from Hongseok. He immediately called you after seeing your text.

“Hongseok, really?”

“Come on, Y/N! It’s been a while since we’ve had fun with others.”

You and Hongseok had an interesting relationship. Yes, you were dating and others knew this but he didn’t mind having others join you. Girls, guys, you name it. He was interested. He enjoyed making a spectacle of you and showing you off. He always knew you’d come back to him at the end of the day though.

“I don’t know...Who knows if they would even be down for that!” you huffed

“Invite them over for drinks. We’ll see what happens,” he says matter of factly

“Fine. But don’t get your hopes up.”

You hung up the call without getting a response from Hongseok. You shoved your phone in your pants pocket as you walked out of the room, right to where Changgu was talking with Hui and Yuto. Changgu waved you over when he saw you.

“Hey! We were just talking about where we were going to go tonight.”

“Oh, well actually I was going to offer my place as a place to go,”

“You sure? We don’t want to impose,” Hui said

“No, it’s totally chill! Plus free booze.”

The boys looked at each other before they all nodded in agreement. The prospect of free alcohol was always the best way to win people’s favor. You all got in your cars and made your way to your place. You called Hongseok on your drive, letting him know you were on your way there. He said he was ready, the alcohol and mixers already out waiting.

The four of you arrived at your apartment pretty quickly. The vibe was fun and playful as you knocked on the front door. Hongseok opened the door and welcomed you all in. The boys have met Hongseok before so you had no worries about the vibe being awkward or weird. They all got on well so there was no change in atmosphere.

The night played out just as Hongseok planned. You all got a bit tipsy, the alcohol flowing through your systems. All inhibitions were lost at this point resulting in all of you sitting on the floor in your living room playing grade school games. You were currently playing Truth or Dare, which was starting to get a little risque as it usually does.

“Ok Changgu, truth or dare?” Hui looked expectantly at the younger boy

“Uhh...truth.”

“When was the last time you had sex?” He stifled a giggle as he asked

“I don’t know, maybe a few months?”

“Awww poor Gu~” Hongseok teased

“Shut it Hongseok,” he pouted, “Truth or dare?”

“I’ll do...dare!” Hongseok chuckled excitedly

“Kiss Y/N right now.”

You felt your face immediately flush. You turned to face Hongseok looking at him half nervous and embarrassed yet half intrigued to see his reaction to the dare. He smirked at you as he pulled your face in for a kiss. His hand gripped the back of your neck as he feverishly made out with you. You finally pulled away when you needed a breath. You totally forgot for a moment that there were other people in the room. You took another swig of wine straight from the bottle, embarrassed by what just happened. Hongseok just chuckled.

The tension in the room changed. It wasn’t awkward like you’d expect when you watch a couple make out in front of your. The room was so sexually charged and everyone could feel it. But no one wanted to say anything. Well, no one but one person.

“She’s hot, isn’t she?” Hongseok eyed up the other guys, “I know you’re thinking it. It’s okay.”

“Shut up Hong,” you hit his shoulder

“What baby? I just want to show you off~” he teased

His hand slipped around your waist going under your shirt slightly. His fingers ghosted over your bare skin. You squirmed at the sensation. His fingers slowly trailed up your side as he began talking with the guys.

“If you guys want, you can have you way with her.”

The whole room went quiet a moment. You held your breath waiting for some sort of response, good or bad. You heard Yuto shift next to you.

“Fuck yes.”

You turned to face Yuto, his lips roughly devouring yours. His hand grabbed your jaw, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible. You heard someone groan as you put on a show for the others. You whimpered into Yuto’s mouth, realizing what you were doing.

“Isn’t she cute?” Hongseok chuckled, “She always makes these cute sounds when she gets horny.”

Yuto pulled away from your lips, his mouth moving down. His lips littered your neck in dark marks. He bit and sucked at the sensitive skin trying to get a rise out of you. You whined, your head falling back. You looked over at Hongseok, who was now sitting beside Changgu and Hui. Hongseok was kissing Hui’s neck as he palmed Changgu’s obvious erection through his pants. He made eye contact with you, winking when he caught you staring. You whimpered, slightly jealous that he was getting to have all the fun.

“Ya know, she’s really good at using her mouth,” Hongseok smirked against Hui’s neck

“Is that so?” Yuto hummed

Yuto stood up and moved over to the couch in the living room. You knew what was coming and you already felt your mouth watering. He unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. You crawled over to him quickly, not bothering to wait for him to say anything before your mouth wrapped around his cock. He sucked in a breath as your mouth sank down to the base of his length. You gagged around him as the tip hit the back of your throat.

“You weren’t lying- fuck,” Yuto groaned, “She’s so good with her mouth.”

“Mhmm, I’ve trained her well,” Hongseok said proudly, “Don’t be afraid to be rough. She loves it rough.”

Yuto, curious to see if this was true, grabbed your hair and pulled on the strands. You moaned around his cock as he helped move your head up and down. You heard Yuto chuckle breathlessly.

“You do like it rough, don’t you? You like how I fuck your face, baby girl?”

Your response was muffled by him pushing further down your throat. Tears were spilling from your eyes at this point. Your lips were wet with a mixture of your saliva and his pre cum. Your core ached to get some sort of attention. You were sure you had soaked through your underwear by now. You were so enraptured with Yuto and his dirty words that you hadn’t noticed someone coming up behind you. An arm slipped around your waist slowly slipping down your body.

“Fuck she’s soaked,” Hui’s hand gently cupped your heat, fingers prodding your entrance, “How’d you get so horny, hm? What’s got you all worked up?”

“She gets off on being a whore,” Yuto groaned, his hips bucking harder and harder into your mouth

“You love putting on a show, don’t you princess?” Hui hummed

You whimpered loudly, all the degrading turning you on more. Hui gently held your throat as Yuto fucked your throat. A quiet swear left Hui’s lips as he watched the younger boy’s cock disappear in your mouth. Yuto’s hips spurred to a stop as you felt his cum spill into your mouth. You obediently swallowed it as you were taught.

“You did train her well,” Yuto chuckled

Before you had a chance to recover, Hui captured your lips in a feverish kiss. His plush lips felt so soft against your now bruised and red ones. He wasted no time pulling off your top and removing your bra. He massaged the soft flesh of your breast rolling your nipple between his fingers. You half mumbled half whimpered his name against his lips, pleasure already building up in your stomach. If he kept going, you probably would’ve cum just from that. Instead, he got up pulling you up with him. He pushed you down onto the couch, hovering above you. He pulled down your pants completely, throwing them somewhere on the floor. He then pulled off your underwear but at a much much slower pace, his intention to tease you.

“Please~ I can’t wait anymore,” you begged

“So eager,” Hui laughed darkly, “What do you want, baby?”

You squirmed as he took off your underwear finally. You normally would’ve felt exposed and self conscious being naked like this in front of all these people but you were too wrapped up in the moment to care. You wanted one thing and it’s all that was on your mind.

“Please fuck me,” you breathed

“As you wish.”

Hui thrusted into you sharply giving you no time to adjust before pounding into you. You let out a very loud moan, surprised with how rough he was being. You never expected this from Hui of all people but fuck, it felt good. You gripped onto the cushions beneath you. You were already so close to reaching your high. You tried to mumble out a coherent sentence but couldn’t even do that but Hui could tell you were close.

“Come on baby. Cum on my cock,” he groaned into your ear

His words brought you over the edge. Your head fell back onto the couch, your eyes rolling back. Hui continued his steady rhythm not stopping even after you had come down from your climax. You whimpered with every thrust, overly sensitive from your orgasm. That didn’t stop him though. His thrusts got harder yet shallower, signalling he was close to his orgasm. Swears left his lips as he rested his forehead on your chest. His hand came down between your legs rubbing roughly on your clit. He somehow pulled another orgasm out of you as he reached his own climax. His hips stopped deep in you, his cum filling you up. You groaned as he pulled out of you finally, overly sensitive from your two orgasms. You sighed as you fell back onto the couch.

“Baby,” Hongseok purred, “You’re not done yet.”

Hongseok came over to the couch, Changgu in tow. Both were stripped of their pants and boxers, waiting for you. Hongseok motioned for you to get up. You staggered up off of the couch, Changgu taking your place.

“We’ve been waiting to have a turn with you,” he pressed up against you, his dick hard on your ass, “My dirty slut.”

You whined, pushing your ass against him. He knew exactly how to get you begging for him and sometimes you wished he didn’t. Now wasn’t one of those times. You were getting turned on even more, if that was possible, knowing what was to come.

“Be a good girl and ride Changgu. He wants to feel that tight pussy too.”

You nodded obediently and moved atop Changgu. His hands took purchase on your hips, massaging the flesh. You and him moaned in unison as you sank down onto his length. He helped you bounce on his cock.

“How are you so fucking tight after all that?” Changgu grunted

“Her little cunt always is so tight, no matter what I do to it,” Hongseok said proudly, “My little whore is always so good for me.”

You let out a particularly loud moan, gripping onto Changgu’s shoulders to steady yourself. You knew you were making deep half moon marks in his skin but he didn’t seem to care. He was rather enjoying it even.

“She’s getting so turned on. She’s clenching so hard around my cock,” Changgu moaned

“I bet she is,” Hongseok teased, “I know how much my baby likes it when I talk dirty.”

Hongseok hand came in between your legs to rub your clit. Changgu thrusted up into you, his fingers digging into your hips. Hongseok’s words and his fingers brought you to your third orgasm, your walls tightening around Changgu. He followed soon after shooting his seed into you as well. He slowly pulled out of you, relishing the noises you made as he did so. You fell onto the couch, your eyes closing for a moment.

You thought you only closed your eyes for a second but when you opened them again, you were in Hongseok’s arms being carried into your shared bedroom. It was only you two now. You don’t remember when the others left but they were gone now. Hongseok gently set you on the bed going into the bathroom for a moment. He came back, wet washcloth in hand. He cleaned you up making you wince, your body starting to get sore. He threw the towel on the bedside table and laid down next to you.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked

“Mhmm,” you hummed, “I’m okay.”

“Good,” Hongseok kissed your temple lingering there, “Rest up. You’ll need it because I haven’t had my way with you yet.”

#kpop #kpop blog #kpop writing blog #pentagon #pentagon headcanons #pentagon headcanon #pentagon reactions #pentagon reaction #pentagon scenarios #pentagon scenario #pentagon x reader #pentagon x you #pentagon smut #pentagon hui #pentagon hwitaek #pentagon hongseok #pentagon changgu #pentagon yeo one #pentagon yuto

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buckthegrump · 5 years

Text

Late One Night

Summary: That old saying of ‘one night could change your life’? Turns out whoever said that was right. Painfully so. Werewolf!Steve x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse, panic attack, fluff, clinical and robotic smut, very minor angst (let me know if i’ve forgotten anything)

Word Count: 5348

A/n: for @moonstruckbucky ‘s Halloween writing challenge my prompt was werewolf AU (sorry it’s not a spooky as it could be)

It was mid-September and the weather was finally cooling down after a brutal summer. The night sky was clear and the full moon hung low in the sky. There was a crispness to the air making it just cold enough to need a jacket, something Y/n was grateful for.

She’d gotten off work late, she was about three blocks from her place when she heard a howl that sounded a lot like a wolf. Which she found odd because there were no wolves around where she lived.

Ignoring the odd noise she continued walking but stopped dead in her tracks when she heard a growl from the woods that lined the street. It sounded close, but there was no reason to be afraid. Right? The woods were more like a park, it had a trail and even had a playground. There shouldn’t be any animals that growl like that in there, and yet.

Y/n only stopped for a moment before she kept walking. Her pace was slow as if she could become invisible if she just kept her movements small and inconspicuous.

The snarl sounded again and the next thing she knew a force knocked her to the ground. Despite the fact that the moon was bright, she couldn’t see what was attacking her. Nothing was clear all she was sure of was that everything hurt. Her head had hit the concrete hard, she’d landed on her arm wrong and was sure it was broken, and there was the thing that was attacking her causing more pain to flare up in different parts of her body.

She tried to open her mouth to scream for help but all that came out were gasps. She couldn’t tell how long the attack lasted. But when she was finally left alone she knew she was going to die.

Every breath hurt. She wondered if it would stop hurting if she simply stopped breathing but every time she exhaled her body automatically inhaled again. She could hear herself wheezing. Suddenly the one brisk night felt so much colder like someone had just dropped her in the middle of the arctic ocean.

‘I’m going to die here alone,’ she thought to herself.

But then she saw glowing eyes looking at her from the trees. Unable to decide if she wanted the animal that was staring at her to finish her off or leave her alone she took what she was sure would be her last breath.

It was probably her brain playing tricks on her, but she could’ve sworn she watched a wolf walk out of the wood and transform into a man. She watched the man walk closer to her as her eyelids finally closed.

Steve loved his wolf form. It was strong and though it was slightly bigger than the rest of his packs form, he was fast.

Being the night of the full moon the entire pack was out moseying about in their wolf forms with strict instructions to keep themselves hidden, they didn’t need humans digging their nose into the pack's business.

Being the alpha, it was Steve’s job to make sure that people didn’t find out about the pack’s secret.

It was around midnight when he heard it, the sound of someone getting attacked, he knew that running towards whatever was happening as a wolf was a dangerous feat but he sprinted towards it.

The attacker must have heard him coming because when he got tot he source of the noise there was a woman lying on the ground bloodied and bruised. Her breathing was shallow and her heartbeat sounded weak. But there was something about her scent that made Steve pause. He should’ve left here there, but that wasn’t who Steve was.

He quickly switched forms and walked up to the woman, her eyes met his before the closed.

Making a rash decision that was sure to piss off Bucky, his second, he picked up the almost dead woman and ran back to the pack house.

The only person left at the house was the pack doctor, Bruce. He didn’t say anything as Steve walked into the house and laid the victim on the exam table in the medical room.

Thanks to Tony, one of the pack members, they had a state of the art medical facility in their home. It was where everyone was forced to go if they got badly injured, and where Bruce operated from. He merely sighed before looking her over and assessing her injuries.

Steve didn’t know why, but he was nervous. And it wasn’t what Bucky or Sam would say that was making him nervous. It was that he truly thought that she was going to die and he could not for the life of him figure out why he cared so much.

Bruce was just about to open his mouth to say something when Bucky burst through the door.

Bucky took one look at the mangled woman on the exam table then looked to Steve.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Bucky asked.

Steve rolled his eyes. Other alphas wouldn’t have let anyone in their pack, other than their mate, to speak to them like Bucky currently was. But Steve had never been that kind of leader, the only time he gave a direct order was when it was needed.

“Bucky not now -”

“No, now.” Bucky paused and sniffed to confirm his suspicions. “You brought a human into our home, Steve. She could find out and expose us. You’ve just put the whole pack in danger! Did you stop to think about what would happen when she was all healed up and awake?”

“No,” he admitted, “But it doesn’t really matter because she might die.”

“Oh even better,” Bucky said facetiously, “not only will we have a dead girl on our hands but a situation that looks like you were the one to kill her.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Steve said, even though he knew that was a lie.

“Ya know what? I don’t think I am,” Bucky snapped.

“I couldn’t just leave here there!” Steve growled turning to Bucky who instantly shut up. Steve took a deep breath then tried again. “I couldn’t just leave her there. I will handle it -”

“It actually looks like she’s not going to die,” Bruce spoke up. Both Steve and Bucky turned to the lower-ranking wolf, “I’m not sure how quickly or what kind of permanent damage has been done but, if she makes it through the rest of the night, she’ll be ok.”

Bucky nodded then turned to Steve. “You better hope that she didn’t see anything or is really good at keeping a secret.”

It was pushing 3 am when the rest of the pack made their way home. They all had similar reactions to their new houseguest as Bucky but almost all of them kept their temper under control. The only reason Steve knew what they were thinking was because he could read it on their faces. The only other person to say anything was Natasha.

“What happens if she dies?” Was all she asked.

“I will handle it,” he told her just like he’d told Bucky. Natasha rolled her eyes and walked away.

Steve hadn’t moved from the room where the woman was. He stood there hovering over her like he was her protector. Bruce came in for the third time that night at about 3:30 with Bucky right behind him.

Bruce turned to his alpha with a look on his face.

“The good news is, she’s going to make it,” Bruce said but there was something about the way he said it.

“You say that like there’s bad news along with that,” Bucky grumbled.

Steve shifted as Bruce looked back at the woman. She was lying in bed with a blanket covering her to offer some privacy

“Well, there’s definitely more news -”

“Spit it out, Bruce,” Steve said with a bit of authority in his voice.

“She’s healing at a rapid rate,” Bruce said quietly but both men heard him.

“How rapid?” Steve asked he could feel Bucky tense up next to him.

“Her injuries will be completely gone by noon,” Bruce said.

The woman shifted slightly in her slumber and all three men froze, when she continued to lay there unconscious, then let out a collective breath. Bucky started chuckling.

“Please tell me it wasn’t you,” Bucky said still chuckling.

“It wasn’t me,” Steve answered. When Bucky continued to chuckle Steve looked at him. “Take a walk, Barnes.”

Bucky didn’t argue as he walked out of the room. It was quiet in the room, the only sound was the beeping of the heart monitor.

“When do you think she’ll wake up?” Steve asked.

Bruce shrugged. “Could only be a few more hours it’s hard to say.”

“If she wakes before I do please come get me, I think the news of her new life might come better from me.”

Bruce nodded and Steve finally left the room and walked up the stairs to his room.

Y/n woke up in an unfamiliar place, it wasn’t the first time it had happened. However, it was the first time she’d woken up in a place that somehow felt like someone’s home and a hospital at the same time.

Everything was way too bright and she could hear a heartbeat, no, two heartbeats. No, more. But when she tried to count the different heartbeats a beeping noise interrupted her thoughts, it was rhythmic and annoying.

She took in her surroundings and found a man sitting next to her. He was watching her very carefully and it was spooking her a little bit but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

“Who are you?” She asked, her voice a little groggy.

“Who are you?” He asked back.

“Pretty sure I asked you first,” she told him and he scoffed.

“Bucky,” a commanding voice came from the doorway and Y/n turned to him. There was something about his blonde hair and demeanor that was oddly familiar to her. The man next to her bed, Buck apparently, stood and walked out of the room. The new man walked into the room. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine I guess but that thing is so fucking loud,” she said pointing to the heart monitor.

He turned the volume off giving her some relief to the headache she was forming.

“Thank you,” she said. “Who are you? And where am I?”

“I’m Steve,” he told her with a soft smile. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“I remember getting off late from work and then hearing a wolf which is weird because there aren’t any wolves around here unless werewolves are real. Then I heard something growl from the park and attack me and I-” Y/n looked up at the man who she now remembered from last night. “Oh fuck.”

“What?”

“Werewolves are real and you’re one, aren’t you?” Before he could answer she continued. “Wait, was the attack really only last night?”

Steve gave her a look. “Yes, to both questions.”

Y/n lifted the blanket and looked down at her completely healed body. She then looked back up at Steve, wide-eyed, who pressed his lips into a thin line.

“We have some things we should talk about.”

It’d been a few months since the attack and Y/n had fully become a part of Steve’s pack and everyone loved her. She refused to give up her apartment until the lease was up, which would be in seven months, but she ended up spending most of her time at the house anyway when she wasn’t at work. She did manage to always make it home before falling asleep though.

Steve promised her they were looking for the wolf that attacked her but judging from the fact that Steve either sent someone to walk her home or did it himself every night, they weren’t close to finding the attacker.

It was a night when Steve was walking her home and she could tell he wanted to talk about something.

“What is it?” Y/n asked. They were a few blocks from her apartment.

“Ok, so,” he paused then shook his head, “Natasha should probably talk to you about this.”

“Will you just spit it out?” Y/n laughed.

“At some point, you’re going to go into heat and as the most submissive in the pack you will be -” he paused trying to find the right word.

“Are they all going to try and jump my bones?” Y/n asked. She’d already gotten this talk from Natasha, it was one of the first conversations they’d had, but watching Steve blush and try to find a way to approach this was just as much fun as Natasha had said it would be.

“Not the mated ones,” Steve said.

“So Clint and Tony?”

“Yeah basically.” Steve sighed. “It would probably be best if you stayed away from the house for that week when it happens because when males get around a female -”

“Ok, I’m going to stop you right there because Natasha already told me all this,” Y/n told him with a smirk.

“Dear God, how long were you going to let me do that?” He asked as she continued to laugh.

“You should probably get better at giving that talk because damn you’re bad at it,” she giggled. “Most submissive, huh?”

“I know in our pack we don’t really do much about our rankings but when it comes to some things it just doesn’t matter. But I want you to know that no one in the pack would ever actually lay a hand on you, and if they did I would kill them, they’d just say very sexual things.”

“I trust you, I trust all of you. But I will spend less time at the house when I go into heat,” she said and turned her attention down to the sidewalk, “Because I’m a dog now.”

Steve gave her a look.

“I’m fine Steve.”

“I know you didn’t get a choice in all this,” he said softly.

“Well, on the bright side I don’t get my period every month.” Y/n walked up to her door and unlocked it. She turned back to Steve. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He smiled at her. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, so thank you.”

Y/n didn’t take her eyes off him as she backed into her apartment. The only reason their eye contact broke was because Y/n closed the door.

Steve knew that the rest of the pack saw it, except Y/n but everyone else made it very clear they could see that he was developing feelings for the new wolf. Bucky and Sam wouldn’t shut up about it and Natasha was starting to join in on the teasing as well.

It was a few months after Y/n had joined the pack when everyone was in the house all doing different things. Bruce and Tony were going over some of the equipment in the recovery room. While Steve, Nat, Sam, and Bucky were bothering Y/n while she baked cookies. The one missing was Clint but he came flying into the house and told Steve that a neighboring pack was coming to visit for some reason.

Steve got everyone into the living room but sent Tony and Clint home. The pack waited for a while before they hear them park in the driveway and just a few moments after the car doors slammed shut they walked into the house.

Y/n smelled him long before she saw him. It felt like years had passed before Brock Rumlow and two other males walked into the room.

She’d hoped to never interact with Brock again after they’d broken up. She was also hoping to never have to tell her new friends about him and what had happened between them but seeing as how he was here and apparently a werewolf, that wasn’t going to happen.

Steve was standing in front with Sam and Bucky flanking him on either side. Y/n was hiding behind all of them, she should’ve left when she had the chance.

Y/n wasn’t paying attention to what was going on or what the meeting was about, she was purely focused on keeping her breathing steady. She could feel the onset of a panic attack, she didn’t dare look up from the ground until she heard them begin to walk away. When she looked up Brock was looking right at her, his face was emotionless but there was a look in his eyes that she’d definitely seen before.

She barely held it together as he walked away, she waited until she could no longer hear the car before she let the panic overwhelm her. She was on her hands and knees struggling to breathe because of the tightness in her chest.

Next thing she knew there was a hand on her shoulder and a voice whispering in her hear instructing her on how to breathe. It was unclear to her just how long she was in that position or how long it took her to figure out that it was just her and Steve left in the living room. But eventually, her breathing regulated and she was lying on the floor with Steve lying next to her.

“Do you wanna tell me what happened?” Steve asked softly.

Y/n was quiet for a moment. Not because she was debating telling him or not but because she was trying to distract herself by focusing on how blue his eyes were.

“Why are your eyelashes so long?” She wondered out loud.

“We don’t have to talk about -”

“No I want to, just give me a minute.”

Steve stayed quiet but he didn’t take his eyes off Y/n.

“I used to date Brock,” she said suddenly, “It was a few years ago and then I finally got out of the relationship and moved away from him. I didn’t tell him where I was going. . . I think it was him.”

“What was?” Steve asked.

“I think he was the one who attacked me that night -”

“Why do you think that?” He asked afraid that he could already guess the answer.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she said in a soft voice.

Steve brushed the pad of his thumb gently across her cheek. “Did he -”

Y/n nodded her head unable to verbally answer. Steve closed his eyes and clenched his fist. She could see the anger building up, she’d seen it all the time when she was dating Brock. But with Steve, it didn’t scare her. Steve didn’t scare her.

She reached over and placed her hand on his fist and he instantly calmed down. After a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes to look at her.

“I’m not going to let him touch you,” he promised.

“Can I stay here tonight?” She asked.

“Of course,” he agreed quickly. He watched a smile creep onto her face and he returned the gesture.

Once Y/n was ready, they got off the floor and spent the rest of the day watching movies with Y/n cuddled into Steve’s side. She fell asleep five minutes into the last movie she’d chosen so Steve lifted her and carried her up to his room. They didn’t have a room ready for her, so he would just sleep on the couch.

As Steve tucked her in she woke slightly and grabbed his hand.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“I’m gonna go sleep on the couch,” he told her.

“Steve stop being so difficult and come here,” she ordered.

He wasn’t sure what it was but he didn’t fight her any further and crawled into bed next to her. Once Y/n was once again snuggled into Steve’s side she fell back into a deep sleep.

Steve could hear whispering, he was too tired to try and figure out what was being said. It wasn’t until the body next to his shifted when he was fully awake and knew exactly what was being said and who by.

Y/n was laying next to him with her face in the crook of his neck. One of her legs was draped across his hips and his arms were wrapped around her, holding her close.

“Make them stop,” Y/n mumbled into his neck. Her breath sent a shiver down his spine.

Steve let out a low commanding growl and the whispers stopped.

“How I became the leader of a pack of gossips is beyond me,” Steve said. He absent-mindedly trailed his fingers up and down her arm.

“We should get up,” Y/n said.

“Well, you’re on top of me so you first.”

“But you’re so comfy.”

She shifted again and Steve a smell unlike any other wafted over to him and he knew.

“You’re going into heat,” Steve said mostly to himself but Y/n responded anyway.

“Is that why I wanna rip off all your clothes and ride you into the sunset?” She sighed and sat up. She was still in yesterday’s shirt. Her bra and pants had been thrown to the floor last night while she declared that anyone who could sleep in jeans was not to be trusted.

Steve held back a moan and tried not to picture Y/n bouncing on his cock.

Y/n smiled down at him, “You’re allowed to tell me that you’re not attracted to me like that Steve. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Trust me,” he groaned, “that’s not the issue.”

“Then why do you look like you’re in pain?”

“Because I’m doing my very best to not let you have your way with me,” he said again.

“Why?” Y/n asked Steve looked over to see her teasing smile.

“Because you don’t actually want me,” he whispered.

Y/n carefully and slowly moved, giving him more than enough time to stop her, so that she was straddling Steve’s waist sitting on her knees. She leaned down so her lips were right next to his ear.

“Well, I wouldn’t let anyone else fuck me into oblivion,” she said then stood up and got off the bed. She walked over to the door after grabbing her pants. Before she could even grab the doorknob she was spun around so her back was pressed against the door. Steve’s body was impossibly close to her. Y/n’s breathing was labored as Steve looked her up and down like he was trying to figure out where to start.

He leaned his forehead against hers.

“If I do this, there would be nothing stopping me from bonding with you and making you my mate,” he said softly, “and as much as I would love to do that - it’s not a good idea because once you’re someone’s mate that’s it.”

“And?” She asked not taking her eyes off him.

“And,” he said pointedly, “you should get to choose who your mate it.”

“What makes you think that I’m not choosing you now?” She asked.

Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

“Unless I’m moving too fast then I can put on my pants and go home but -”

“Brock could find you there, you’re safer here,” Steve finished for her. “And no, you’re not moving too fast, that’s kind of how it works for us. It only took Natasha and Clint a month to realize that they didn’t want anyone else.”

“How do you know?” Y/n asked. Steve could hear how scared she was of being stuck with someone who would hurt her the way Brock had.

“All the mated wolves I’ve talked to say that it’s hard to explain. That it’s just a feeling you get.”

“And you feel that way about me?”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “Yes.”

Y/n closed the distance between their lips and kissed him.

“Y/n -” he warned.

“God Steve,” she groaned in annoyance, “do you ever shut up?”

Steve leaned back looking at her in surprise. “Did you really just talk to your alpha like that?” His tone was a mixture of teasing and genuine shock.

“I wouldn’t have to if you would just have your way with me,” she growled. It was the first time he’d ever heard her growl at anyone.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, “if I were to have my way with you, you wouldn’t be able to leave the bed for a week.”

Y/n whimpered slightly and rubbed her thighs together for even the slightest bit of relief from the tension building in her.

“Besides,” he smirked, “I’m much more interested in you having your way with me.”

Y/n dropped her clothing, that she’d almost forgotten she was holding and pushed Steve back towards the bed.

Steve fell back on the bed still smiling at Y/n. She stood at the edge of the bed and lifted her shirt over her head.

“Take your pants off,” she ordered and Steve wondered if they’d really been so idiotic to believe that Y/n was a submissive wolf instead of just impossibly kind. But he followed her directions removing his underwear too.

Y/n slid out of her panties before climbing back onto him to straddle him, much like she had been a few minutes ago. Steve sat up, pulling her against him.

She froze, she cupped his face in her hands and stared with intensity into his eyes. “You’re not going to hurt me are you?”

Steve pressed a kiss above both of her breasts before repeating the action on her cheeks then one last quick one to her lips.

“Never,” he whispered. She smiled softly and kissed him again then she slid her hands into his hair and pulled his head back exposing his neck.

“Were you serious about me having my way with you?” She asked as she dragged her lips up his neck before pulling oh his ear with her teeth.

Steve closed his eyes and dug his fingers into her hips. With her pussy so close to his cock it was becoming more and more difficult for him to think straight.

“Deadly,” he answered breathlessly.

“Well then,” she whispered seductively into his ear, “let’s see how well an alpha can take orders.”

Steve whimpered as Y/n pressed one finger onto his chest, silently telling him to lie on his back. She rocked her hips teasing him a bit more before moving so she was straddling his head.

“You have such a pretty mouth,” she cooed.

That was all the encouragement he needed before he wrapped his arms around the backside of her thighs and pulled her down so she was on his mouth. Both of Y/n’s hands were in his hair gripping it tightly as reveled in the taste of her.

“Fuck, Steve,” she whimpered.

Steve opened his eyes to look up at her. She looked ethereal with a blissful smile playing at her lips while her chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Steve took her clit into his mouth and sucked. A few moments later her legs were shaking as she came.

He didn’t let her go until he was satisfied. She was leaning against the headboard trying to catch her breath. He kissed her inner thigh before scooting under her so he could sit up with her in his lap.

“So,” Steve said as Y/n kissed along his neck leaving marks that he would need to wear a turtleneck to hide, “what would you like me to do next?”

She lifted her head to look at him and winked at him. She caressed his cock lining it up with her entrance and lowering herself onto him.

“Jesus, fuck.” Steve gripped her hips again.

“What?” Y/n asked with faux innocence.

Steve growled and tried to get her to move but she forced his hands off her waist and pinned them over his head.

“I thought I was having my way with you.”

“Get on with it then,” Steve said trying to use his alpha voice but clearly Y/n was unaffected by it.

She t’sked at him. “That’s not how you get what you want, baby boy.”

“Please,” he whined pathetically. “Please let me cum. I need it. I need you.”

Y/n leaned in and brushed her lips against his ear. “I wonder what everyone else would think of their alpha begging to be fucked.”

“Please, Y/n.”

“Only because you’re so pretty when you beg.”

At first, she was slow about her movements. Slowly rising and sinking back down teasing him until he let out a frustrated groan, then she let go of his hands so she could hold on to his shoulders as she sped up.

Steve was losing his resolve.

“Do it, Steve,” she told him, he didn’t have to ask to know what she was talking about, “I want it to be you.”

He pulled her closer to himself as he met her movements with thrusts of his own. When Y/n’s chest pressed up against his he bit down on her neck drawing the smallest bit of blood. That was all it took for the mate bond to snap into place. He licked up the blood droplets and pressed a kiss to where he’d bitten her, his teeth marks already gone.

The feeling of her intensified after their bond was in place and Steve didn’t last long after Y/n came, squeezing his cock. Their moans filled the room and in the back of his mind, he had the fleeting thought about how the pack could definitely hear them.

They sat there for a moment after they’d finished riding their highs. Y/n’s head was resting against his shoulder and Steve’s arms were lazily wrapped around her waist.

“You’re gonna make me pay for the comments I made aren’t you?” She asked breathlessly.

“You bet your sweet ass I am,” he teased. She giggled into his neck and Steve could swear he’d never heard a better sound.

Neither of them actually fell asleep that night. They just lay in bed enjoying each other’s company.

“I love you,” Steve whispered in the dead of night.

“I love you too,” Y/n responded sleepily.

“I don’t know what we’re going to tell everyone, Bucky will be upset that he’s no longer my second,” Steve chuckled. Y/n lifted her head and looked at him.

“What?”

“When an alpha mates with someone their mate becomes their second,” he explained.

“Well, they’re going to have a hard time believing that I can give orders.”

“Not if they heard anything that happened earlier,” he teased and she groaned into his chest. “But that’s not all that I’m worried about.”

“What else is on your mind?”

“What are we gonna do about Brock?”

Steve rolled over on to his side so he was facing Y/n who was contemplating as she fiddled with Steve’s fingers.

“Honestly? I don’t care,” she shrugged.

“What?”

“At one point I did want him to pay for what he did, but now I couldn’t care less about what happens to him.” She brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “Why would I waste time thinking about him when I’m here with you.”

“So we do nothing?”

“Well, if he shows up here again, then you can kill him if I don’t do it first,” she conceded. “Now, tell me more about what me being your second means. Does that mean that I get to boss everyone around and have them bring me food when I’m too lazy to get it myself?”

Steve laughed at her comment and they spent the rest of the night talking. Steve knew that the rest of the pack wasn’t going to be on board with this whole Brock situation and just letting him be. But they could deal with that tomorrow, or the next day whenever they decided to get out of bed.

#werewolf!steve #Steve Rogers x reader #steve x reader #Steve Rogers AU #steve rogers smut #halloweenhauntsauchallenge

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