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simplyholl · 2 days

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The Newlywed Game

Summary: You’re forced to play The Newlywed Game with your ex situationship.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F. Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smuttish, but not my usual descriptive smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

“I can’t.” That’s all the explanation you got when Bucky ended your situationship. You were friends with benefits for almost a year. The only rule he had was don’t fall in love. He had too much baggage and he never wanted a family. He didn’t want anyone to depend on him.

You couldn’t blame him, he was traumatized by Hydra. Trapped inside his own body for decades, he was afraid it could happen again. You jumped in head first with him anyways. You were in his bed after every mission, every meeting, every day. You basically lived in his room, not that he would ever admit that. Then one rainy afternoon, you knocked on his door like always. Except this time, he didn’t pull you into his warm embrace.

He moved out of the way so you could come in, and immediately you knew something was wrong. You reached for him, ready to console him, desperate for his touch. He had just finished a mission with Sam and he’d been gone for two weeks. You missed him, and he was usually so excited to see you.

When you placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing the scruff that had grown while he was gone, he wrapped his fingers around your wrist removing it. “I can’t do this anymore.” His voice was so low you could barely understand. Your eyes narrowed at his words. “Have I done something wrong?”

“This has gone on for longer than it should have. I can’t let it anymore.” Your throat tightens, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You walked out and your relationship with him was never the same. You didn’t hang out anymore.

When you were alone, he would leave. He didn’t sit beside you during the Friday night movie. He didn’t choose you for his partner on game night. The other Avengers didn’t know for sure that you were hooking up. You hid it pretty well. They had their suspicions, but neither of you ever confirmed it.

Tony called everyone to the back yard. “What’s all this?” Steve asks, pointing to the stage he had set up. “It’s my anniversary tomorrow and Pepper said she always wanted to play the Newlywed Game. So I had this built so we could play.”

“That’s great, Tony. But who are you all going to play with? There’s four set up’s and only two couples.” Steve gestures to Wanda and Vision. “Thought about that and Cap, you and Natasha are going to play and….” He looks at the whole team, everyone looking in different directions trying not to make eye contact. Except for Sharon, who hung around a lot lately. She was getting closer to Bucky, obviously wanting Tony to choose them. You roll your eyes. “Barnes and Y/N. There now we have all our couples. I’m going to go get Pep, you guys take your spots.”

You look at Bucky,but he’s busy talking to Steve about how ridiculous it is. You hear Sharon agree that he should have chosen someone else. When Pepper comes in, she excitedly claps her hands together. She points to the other teams, “You’re going down!” She laughs, but you can’t help but protest, “This is rigged! You guys and Wanda and Vision are the only real couples!! How is anyone else supposed to win?”

Tony shoots you a death glare but answers, “Cap and Natasha have definitely bumped uglies before. And you and Barnes are close friends. I thought that would make it more fair. But, I do expect to win.” You cross your arms, but accept his answer. Bucky finally looks at you, but it’s not friendly.

Sam comes out, wearing a suit Tony made him wear to host. “I’ll explain the rules. You all have a whiteboard, marker, and eraser. I will ask a question and you will write your answer on your boards. If your answer matches your partner’s you get a point. I’ll eliminate one couple each round until the final tie breaker.”

You take a deep breath. This is hell. But, you do know Bucky better than anyone, so as long as he didn’t ask any crazy questions, you would be fine. “First question. Where is the craziest place you and your partner have had sex?” You freeze. Of course Stark had these wild questions. If you both answered the same, everyone would know that you had hooked up.

You think about lying, but decide the ball should be in Bucky’s court. You’ll answer correctly, and if he doesn’t you’ll know he doesn’t want anyone to know. You quickly scribble your answer, waiting on Sam to call on you. Tony’s answer is Steve’s room and Pepper’s matched. Everyone laughed while Steve said Tony has to pay for his room to be deep cleaned.

Wanda and Vision both answer “in the air.” Natasha and Steve said a table in the meeting room. You turn your board to reveal your answer and Bucky shows his. You look and see that he has answered correctly. “The quinjet?! Damn y’all are nasty!” Sam laughs.

You’re taken back to that moment. You, Bucky, and Bruce were on your way back from a mission. Bruce was driving the quinjet, but activated the mode Tony installed for breaks. As soon as he started snoring, Bucky led you to the bathroom. He took you against the wall, metal hand across your mouth to stifle your moans. It was one of the hottest things you’d ever done. Your suit clung to you in the worst ways after that. His cum dripping down your legs, it was nearly impossible to take off.

The others look at each other in surprise. Scott yells “I told you they were hooking up. No one believed me!” Sharon looks at Bucky so harshly that if looks could kill, he’d be dead. He just shrugs his shoulders. Of course, he would be hooking up with her. Why wouldn’t he? She was pretty and it had been three months since he ended things with you.

The next question was “Who hogs the covers more?” Everyone got it right except for Steve and Natasha. She said that wasn’t a fair question because they never actually slept when they were together. The round continued with four more questions. At the end, Steve and Natasha were eliminated because they had the least amount of points. The rest of you were tied.

“What is your partner’s pet name for you?” Sam asks. That’s easy, “doll”, you write. When you reveal your answers, Sharon looks furious. That must be what he calls her too. It stings, thinking of them together. You don’t have time to dwell on it before Sam asks the next question. “What is the highest number of orgasms your partner has given you in one night?” Your eyes widen, you know the answer, but you don’t know if he will remember.

Tony and Pepper answer three, Tony grins like the cocky asshole he is. Vision and Wanda answer two. Bucky raises his board, “Six?!” Sam shouts, “How were you guys fucking this much and nobody knew?” He laughs. The round surprisingly ends with Wanda and Vision getting eliminated.

But you’re busy thinking about that night. Bucky’s head between your thighs for hours. He barely came up for breath. You were sure he would smother, but he insisted. He didn’t stop until the sheets were soaked, your legs were shaking so hard, you’d immediately fall if you tried to stand up.

He had you screaming his name all night. When he finally started fucking you, he took his time, pulling another orgasm out of you before going back down for another taste. He finally came with you on top. He had to lift your limp body on him, using you like a sex doll. You couldn’t move if you needed too. It was the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s time for the tie breaker question. Answers don’t have to match, the crowd will vote on the most romantic answers.” Sam states. “When did you know you were in love?” Tony and Pepper immediately begin writing. You’re certain you’re going to lose this one. Bucky was never in love with you. You write your answer, deciding to answer truthfully.

Tony and Pepper’s answers make you tear up, they are so in love. You can only hope you’ll find that one day. You and Bucky reveal your boards at the same time. You glance at his, his answer knocks the breath out of your lungs because it matches yours. The Avenger’s Barbecue. You lock eyes, his gaze softens as he reads your answer.

You’ll never forget such a pivotal moment in your life. All of the Avengers and Shield agents’ friends and family were invited to play games, eat, and have a good time. Emily, who helped coordinate your missions brought her husband and three young children. A baby girl, a two year old boy, and a five year old girl. The children were drawn to Bucky. The two older children swung from his metal arm while he held the baby with his other one.

The image made your ovaries explode. You couldn’t help imagining how he would be if you had kids. He laughed as they asked him a thousand questions, playing on him like a jungle gym. You knew without a doubt, you were in love.

Bucky took a deep breath when he read your answer. Why was it the same as his? Did you know? Was it a prank you were playing on him? Emily’s children were entranced with you from the moment they met you. He couldn’t blame them, he felt the same. They had played with him for an hour before the food was ready. When Tony told everyone to make a plate, you offered to watch the kids while she and her husband got their food.

Bucky watched as you comforted the crying infant. The two older children sat beside you while you read from a book the girl got from their bag. Bucky knew he was screwed. He could see a life like this so clearly. Your belly round with his baby, while you tended to your other children. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted that. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He was in love with you.

That night he made love to you, it was softer, slower than the other times he touched you. He knew you could tell the difference too. He placed one last kiss to your lips, willing himself to let you go. The next morning, he left for his two week mission with Sam. He convinced himself that it was for the best if he ended things. He didn’t want to hurt you. You might be okay with it now, but years later you would regret it.

You’d realize having the Winter Soldier for a husband wasn’t worth everything you would have to go through. Then Sharon started flirting with him after Steve rejected her. He hadn’t so much as hugged her, but she acted like she was entitled to him.

Everyone voted for Tony and Pepper to win. They were the real couple and it was their anniversary tomorrow. Tony was going to treat everyone to dinner for being such good sports. You got out of there as soon as it was over. You needed a nap before going to dinner. It was all too much for you. How the hell did you and Bucky make it so far in the game? Why did he have the same answer for the last question? You convince yourself that he knew how you felt.

That night changed everything. The sex was different. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was making love to you. He had to be messing with your head. Somehow you manage to fall asleep even with your thoughts racing.

You wake up two hours later, just enough time to get ready for dinner. You put on the little black dress Bucky loved. If he wants to play games, bring it on. You apply your perfume when a light knock sounds on your door. You would recognize the knock anywhere. “Come in” you call. Bucky walks in, his tight black t-shirt hugging him in the best ways.

“Hey doll, we need to talk.” You put your earrings in, anger surging through you. “Talk about what? How you were trying to humiliate me up there? How you’re banging Sharon now? There’s nothing to talk about. You should just go.”

“Humiliate you? What about me? How did you know the answer to the last question?” He demands, charging toward you. “I answered it truthfully, James. How did you know my answer?” You ask, hands on your hips. “I answered honestly too.” He confesses, his blue eyes sweeping over the swell of your breasts.

“Stop lying! I don’t see what the point is. We have been over for three months. Why are you doing this?” He shakes his head, “I was telling the truth. I realized I was in love with you when all those kids were sitting in your lap. I could see our life together. And I wanted it, the kids, the white picket fence, the big house, you.”

“Bucky, I wanted all that with you too. Seeing you playing with those kids made me realize it too.” You sigh, feeling relieved to finally get it off your chest. His lips crash into yours, hands moving at lightning speed to remove all of your clothing. You’re under him in seconds, panting against his lips as he rubs himself against you.

Bucky moans as he sinks into you. He’s always known deep down you were made for him, now he has no choice but to accept it. “I’m so in love with you.” He tells you between thrusts. You claw at his back, his confession almost sends you over the edge. “I am so in love with you, Buck.” You kiss him gently. “Say it again.” He smiles, as you get lost in each other.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu

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sorryimananti-romantic · 3 days

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so i js finished re-reading biker!san with a friend n we NEED to know if san plays w reader or not

could you give a brief summarisation of how their story ends (or possibly a pt.2 👀)?

ahaha i read it again and i don't think i can do a full oneshot but what about a scenario? 👀

badboybiker!san x photographer!reader: (pt 1 here)

[recap: you're a photographer trying to get a shot of the golden hour for a little competition when a stranger offers to help you in any way he can. since he's a biker, you think his silhouette would make for a perfect shot and you ask him to model for you. you promise to treat him if you win some prize and he accepts on the condition that he let you take around on his bike. when he tells you his name- choi san- you recognise him as the 'bad boy' of the neighbourhood. even knowing that you should avoid him, you can't resist his charms and get familiar with him thru texts. you take him to the dinner and he gives you a ride home and when you mention that you would like to take a shot of the river next time, he asks if he can tag along- as an 'assistant'. you smile in answer]

one thing about choi san is that he knows how to get his way.

in the past few weeks, you learned a few facts about him- that his bike is his baby and no one can touch it without his permission, that only a selected few get to ride on it (which makes you wonder how you got into that list so quickly) and that he is a very fun person to be around. he has manners, he definitely knows how to treat a woman and he might be a little too good at it.

what you also learned from your friends was that he was the notorious playboy of the town, rumoured to have broken the hearts of many and having a repute for getting into fights, being involved with the wrong company and whatnot. you told yourself that these are just 'rumours' because what you heard is very different from what you've seen firsthand.

though... he is a flirt, whether intentional or not. you've convinced yourself that you wouldn't become another woman on his list if he is that sort of a person, that it is possible for the two of you to be 'just friends', however loose the definition might be.

because if you were just friends, you wouldn't be getting excited whenever you heard the buzzing of your phone around midnight. if you were just friends, you wouldn't feel disappointed to see someone else texted you or you wouldn't be disappointed if he didn't reply within a few hours. if you were just friends, your heart wouldn't skip a beat every time you saw that beautifully sculpted face of his with those dark tendrils of hair falling on his forehead, messed up from his helmet. you wouldn't be shy when you wrapped your arms around his toned, strong waist when on the bike or when you grabbed his muscular arms, realising just how broad he was. you wouldn't want him to continue teasing you, smiling at you, tucking your hair back so casually or leaning in to whisper things in your ears with that goddamned smile of his- even when the two of you were alone.

the thing was... that he caught your eye and now you couldn't get him out of your head. he claimed to be obsessed with you these days because you were funny and made him laugh like no one else, because you were natural and didn't feel like you were putting up a fake persona in his presence, because he could always talk about anything that weighed on his mind without any judgement. you told him you'd heard things about him and he asked you if you believed them.

"if there was any truth to it, you wouldn't be a completely different person from what i've heard."

but he was. and he felt so fucking guilty about hiding it from you. when you spotted a bruised lip and a cut on his cheekbone, you attended to him without questions. you believed him when he lied and told you that he had a little fall from his bike (he had a fight, actually) and he let you scold him for not being careful. when you worriedly scanned his body for other signs of injuries, he let your hands travel all over his body. and when he held your wrists to stop you because he couldn't take it anymore, he convinced himself that it really wasn't different with you, that he really only wanted to ruin you because he was so tempted by your naivety, that you would soon be one of the women he had played with. he kissed your wrist while repeating that mantra, watching your lips part in surprise.

that night, he tried to reason with himself. you were too good a person to lose by his foolish antics. you were a keeper, you were precious and if he made a foolish mistake, he would forever regret it.

that doesn't stop him from treading on dangerous lines. and he could blame you for initiating it, blame you for kissing him first and involving yourself with him when the phone in his pocket was still buzzing with texts he never responded to, with the number of people that either wanted to fuck him up or fuck him.

and you... you would blame yourself too. because how could you hold back? how could you not give in and simply kiss the boy who sat on the riverside beside you, talking with you as if you both had nowhere else to be? how could you not hold his handsome face and kiss his plump lips when he told you how much you meant to him and how he was afraid that he would make a mistake?

if he was afraid of making a mistake, then you would in his stead. all you wanted was to be with him, to not be held back by the rumours or the warnings of your friends, to listen to your heart for once, no matter how foolish that may be. so when he looked at you with those eyes, looking like a stray cat that just needed a little love, someone who would tend to him... all the hesitation left your body as you held his face and kissed his lips, the sound of the river and the wind soothing your nerves. he didn't kiss you back. you drew away- had you really made an irreversible mistake-

"you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

that voice. that voice that you only heard when he talked about himself- his warning voice.

"why don't you show me then? what am i getting into?"

and that was the final push for san- his vision almost blackened for a second as desire crept through every nerve in his body and he crashed his lips on yours, earning a surprised groan from you. soon, you were kissing him back and moulding your body to his, letting your arms snake around his neck while his hands traced every part of your body, determined to not leave a single place untouched. the way he kissed was all-consuming- rushed, desperate, passionate and needy. when you broke contact for air, he started littering kisses all over your face, trailing from your jaw to your neck-

"san- sannie. we have all the time in the world."

that prompted him to pause- and perhaps, you shouldn't have stopped him when his lips were attached to your neck because he simply switched his speed, gently kissing and sucking into the crevice of your neck, making you arch your back. he held your body flush to his, gripping your thigh and shifting you so that you were almost in his lap, all the while continuing with his administrations. you took that chance to let your hands creep up his neck, hold him and caress his hair- those soft hair you always wanted to touch. you kissed his temple while he continued to kiss your neck, only drawing away when he was satisfied, grinning at the sight of the bruising spot.

you, however, didn't feel like grinning back, not when you were too absorbed in the overwhelming feeling of your heightened senses. not when your stomach flipped uncontrollably. not when your hands, off their own accord, traced his toned chest, sliding down to his stomach to hold his waist and look at him.

"i want you."

san felt his heart sink- what had he done-

"i want you. all of you. not just your kisses and your body, but your heart, choi san. i want your heart."

did he think that he would ruin you? yes.

but did he, for a short second, perhaps a moment of enlightenment, think that you would ruin him?

absolutely. and he should have known better than to kiss you in answer.

he should have known better than to take you home that night.

he should have known better than to accept your invitation inside your house because no one was home.

he should have known better than to accept everything you offered him in the spur of the moment.

and he should have known better because once he got a taste of you... he couldn't stop.

#suggestive-- mdni!!#sorry im a bit late i was waiting for ✨inspo✨ to hit #choi san x reader #san x reader #san fluff #san angst #san smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #yumi.asks

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yarrystyleeza · 3 days

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Happy birthday tomorrow Yuna! Hope you'll have an amazing day ❤️❤️

As for a request... When I saw you would write for Daryl, I knew I had to send you something. Season 1 and 2 Daryl lives rent free in my mind, so can I please request:

"when they tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you talk" and "brushing against each other, even if there is enough room"

Thank you in advance and again, Happy birthday 😁❤️🎉

Awww thank you my love, sorry for answering this late, hope you didn't mind it, it was stupid of me! 😅💖💖💖

I was stuck with the plot of the request for the last two months until last night, I literally wrote this in less than 10 hours lol 🤣🤣🤣 hope you enjoy it, though, and sorry for keeping you hanging! 💖💖💖 You're so welcome and thank you for dropping this request and for the birthday wishes! 🥰🥰🥰

Little Things (D.D)

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female! reader, idiots in love

Prompt: fluff, s1!s2!Daryl, tucking hair behind ear, brushing against each other even if there's enough room + petnames for the cherry on top!

Word count: 1.4k!

Writer's note: I loved writing this one so much! As you lily, season one and two Daryl is my favorite Daryl era (beside S8). Not 100% proofread but I hope you really enjoy it, have a great day! <3

"Hurt y'self, little thin'?" He teased, watching you lying on the forest bed after your foot faltered and slipped you into the bottom of the hill. Your brows knitted, you rolled your eyes, he chuckled at the face you made, "alright, I'm comin'."

He slides down, smoothly, and a little bit pompously—with a smirk on his face. You can't lie—he made you smile though you desperately wanted to punch him right in the face.

He offered his hand to you and you accepted his help. At first, he let you wrap your arm around his neck as he walked you towards the hill exit—but as it turns out, you sprained your ankle so bad it was impossible for you to take another step. He scooped you in his arms and carried you back to the quarry.

And that's how you met Daryl.

You can't admit he wasn't a pain in the ass most of the time—if not always, getting on your nerves and driving you up the wall, it was so constant you started thinking he was doing it on purpose.

It kinda was. Daryl had serious troubles with conveying his emotions, and that idiot had a sickening crush on you ever since he saw you at the camp with the girls. He wanted your attention and he only got it when he drove you mad, so he tooled it in his advantage.

You were his favorite. You're the only one he talks to—other than his brother, Merle—and you, too, are the only one who wants to talk to him.

You too had a crush on him. His silly fights and bickering became more amusing to you—sometimes you couldn't even contain the smile drawn across your face when he's mad about something so stupid and could be fixed in complete silence, and when you gave him your smug face—it always drove him insane. You learnt he's quick-tempered, but these ones were visibly made up just to get a chance to be with you.

Daryl reminded you of those little boys in the playground when they used to ruin the girls' sand castles or pull their braids and ribbons just to get their attention. Ever since you came up to this conclusion—life has never been easier!

But things changed a little bit after the attack on the quarry. Daryl turned from only being a hot-headed idiot to be completely protective of you, but that doesn't mean he stopped getting angry—God forbid he does! But he got more reasonable and collected—around you, at least.

As soon as you got to the CDC, he grew closer to you, more friendly, more worried, more caring. He barely slept the night you spent there, checking on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don't need anything—despite you being a wall apart. It was adorable, and it stirred something in you.

Same night at dinner, right before you went to bed, he sat beside you as you dined, he made sure your plate was full and that you'd eaten well because 'it's been a while since you got a decent meal', he says.

And in the middle of the chaos the following morning—he solely cared for you, and not a thing was going to stop him from smashing Dr. Jenner's head that morning if it wasn't for you calming him down.

The two of you escaped in his pickup truck. But despite the horror you had just fled, you couldn't stop stealing glances at each other, Daryl was focused on driving but you spotted him staring at you with soft eyes a couple of times. Both of you blushed, multiple times—vividly, but you couldn't stop. Something was so amusing and sweet about the way he was looking at you, and you were so tempting to him he could stop staring at you even if he wanted to.

Now, staying at Hershel's farmhouse, Daryl turned out to be that sweet lovey dovey guy who'd absolutely melt under your touch—in complete opposite to the face he's been showing to everyone.

As you went out to search for Sophia, Daryl offered to accompany you. He kept brushing arms with you, pumping into your side, and gently holding your biceps to guide you as you walked. He kept putting himself between you and any threat, not letting you shed a drop of sweat—you were almost a passenger princess, but on foot.

But it was very obvious the night he got shot—your heart dropped when it happened, and when you learned it was your Daryl and not some misinformation. You couldn't watch as they took the bullet out, you couldn't watch him screaming in agony—yet you heard him from behind the door. It tore your heart into pieces.

The night fell as you sat on the chair next to his bed, your head dripping every couple minutes as you drifted in and out of sleep. Your head was heavy as a rock sinking in the ocean—yet you kept fighting Mr. Sandman back, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes and patting your face.

"Go to bed, pet," he softly demanded, "ye're tired from sittin' here all day," he extended an arm, gently placing it on your thigh and squeezing it chastely, "ya need some rest."

You shook your head, "I'm fine, Daryl," you shrugged, "it's not like it's the first time I stay up late."

Both of you stay silent, staring at each other with soft eyes. "Climb up in 'ere," Daryl says, his voice was tinted with plead "at least you won't have to keep droppin' yer head like a sippy chicken."

"No, Daryl," you shook your head in utter refusal, desperately trying to show him how awake you are despite craving a warm bed, "you need your own space. What if I accidentally hit your wound--"

"Come on, pet, you know you won't..." he softly smiles, shaking his head. You sigh and climb into the bed with him and he shares his blanket with you. He turns to face you, the moonlight is perfectly casted upon your faces, his blue eyes sparkled and reflected you like a looking glass. He grazes your cheek, tucking your stray hair back behind your ear and his fingertips linger on the skin of your neck.

"Get some sleep, love," he caresses your hair, "I won't need nothin' when ye're right next to me."

You woke up tangled up in his chest, it was warm and peaceful. You never wanted to slip out of his arms—if it wasn't for Hershel coming over to check on him and the men accompanying him.

Daryl got better as the days gone by. You started to see him in the kitchen fetching some biscuits or chips, he'd pump into you on his way out, brushing arms with you and glancing at you with his blueies and a smile. And if he's in the right mood, he'd take you off guard and peck your cheek, and you'd turn red and try to bite your smile. He caught it had quite the right effect on you, and he's been doing it ever since.

"Let it down, pumpkin," Daryl flirts as he snatches the scrunchie out of your hand as you tried to tie your hair, "love it when it's coverin' yer pretty face, gives me a reason to keep tuckin' it back."

"But we're going on a mission," you protest, "it would be dangerous for both of us!"

Daryl takes a run around the golden field and you chase him—but he overpowers you and you stop running, panting and clutching your chest as he giggles. He mischievously walks back closer to you, so you try to take it back, but he's taller than you, stretching his hand up with your scrunchie and shaking it to tease you. "Ya ain't tiein' it today, darlin'."

"Give it back!" you giggle as you jump to reach for your scrunchie, but he keeps stretching his arm above his head.

"Ye look so cute like that, pumpkin," he pulls a smug face as you lean forward against him, your chests compacting and you're an inch away from kissing.

"You could've told me you wanted to kiss me," you tease, not minding that he lowered his hand back down. He tucks your stray bangs behind your ear, ending up doing what he wanted to do all along.

"But it's more fun to watch ya tiptoe and lean on to me like that," he rounds you with his big arms, pulling you deeper into his chest with a Bastard smirk on his face, "it makes you even prettier, pet. These little things you do."

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my birthday sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

#yarrystyleeza #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #norman reedus

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 16 hours

Text

Moi Devochki: Chapter 1

Authors note: I'm hoping to post chapters of this fic every Friday, so stay tuned!

Warnings: smut(grinding, groping, fingering, talk of marking/scent glands)

Word count: 2061

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Moi Devochki Masterlist

You and Wanda had been close since you were pups, you grew up together. You knew you were in love with her, you just didn’t think she’d feel the same, she always talked to you about what she wanted in an Alpha afterall. She had realized she’d fallen for you shortly before the three of you had joined Ultron in his plot against the Avengers, but she was too afraid of saying anything to you. Instead she held your hand and cuddled with you more often hoping that was enough to satisfy her. It wasn't though, she wanted all of you.

Pietro of course noticed, call it a twins intuition. He didn’t care who his sister fell in love with as long as they didn’t break her heart, but he knew the world was cruel when it came to two Omegas being together so he cautioned her to be careful. To not let anything be seen outside the bedroom that hinted at anything more than friendship. Wanda understood, but she didn’t like it. Keeping her love a secret felt wrong, but she’d do it to keep you safe.

When you all switched to working with the Avengers and she lost her brother you were right there for her, offering her comfort and letting her share your bed so she wasn’t alone. She knew she had to tell you that she wanted you and she was so happy to know you wanted her too, so that's when your secret relationship started. You both knew it was still considered not only taboo but illegal in most places for two Omegas to be together, but you couldn't help the way you felt about each other.

Thankfully due to your close friendship and since you were both Omegas no one in the Tower batted an eye at how much time the two of you spent together or how one of you’d sometimes smell like the other, which worked tremendously in your favor considering the two of you would do much more than just watch tv together.

Currently however, that was exactly what you were doing. You were both cuddling in her nest as one of her sitcoms played on the tv. Wanda's head rested on your chest as your hand played with her hair, your other hand being firmly held by the other Omega. She laughs at something on the show, you're not sure what since you almost never paid attention to them. Your focus was always on her.

“Y/n?” she says

“Yes baby?” you respond as her green eyes meet yours

She gestures to the tv show, an Alpha and some pups playing outside, “Do you think we’ll ever have that?”

You thought for a moment before answering, “Yes, if we can find the right Alpha. But we need an Alpha that not only wants to bond with both of us, but is also accepting of us being together. I don’t know how easy it’ll be to find an Alpha like that.”

She nods her head, sighing softly. “Do you think Natasha might be an Alpha like that?” she asks, tone hopeful

You smile, “I’m not sure baby, but I do know she's not like most Alphas. She’s special.” she nods her head agreeing with you.

Wanda loves you and you know that, just as she knows you love her but it was no secret that you both longed to have Natasha as your Alpha. There was just something that drew the two of you to her since you’d met her, but the Russian didn’t seem to have an interest in Omegas, which disappointed you both. Wanda more so though, you knew how badly she wanted pups, you’d give her them yourself if only you could.

Suddenly Wanda straddles your lap and lets her hands rest on your shoulders as she leans in to kiss you. You hum in response, your hands instinctively grab onto her waist. The two of you stay like that until the need for air becomes too intense and she pulls away from you, panting slightly.

You begin to trail kisses on her jaw, working your way down her neck. You stop when you reach her scent gland, gently you suck on her skin there before letting your teeth graze over the sensitive spot. She whines at the feeling, she desperately wishes the two of you could fully bond by marking each other. But she knows without a supportive Alpha to protect you both from judgment and punishment the risk heavily outweighed the reward. She’d already lost so much in life, to risk losing you was simply something she would never do.

Your hands travel under her shirt and up her back, she hums as your hands undo the clasp of her bra before they travel back down to the bottom of her shirt. You take it off her with ease and her bra slips off her chest. Your hands palm her breasts, she arches into your touch a soft moan leaving her lips.

You replace a hand with your mouth, you gently nibble and suck on her nipple as your free hand cups her ass. She grinds down on your lap, whimpering slightly. You smirk against her skin as the hand you had on her breast moves to the front of her pants, you undo her jeans and slip your hand into her underwear. She lets out a small gasp as your fingers slide through her slick soaked folds, teasing her.

She grinds down on your fingers this time, a needy whine leaving her lips, “Please detka(baby), I want you.”

You look up at her, “Pants off printsessa(princess).”

She quickly stands, removing her jeans and underwear before sitting back down on your lap. You kiss her softly, she wraps her arms around your neck, tangling her hands in your hair as you grab her ass pulling her closer to you. She whines again, begging for you.

Your hand moves back down to her pussy, she's practically dripping slick for you and you hum at how she feels against your fingers. You slowly insert two fingers, getting her to moan again. She begins to suck at your scent gland as you start thrusting your fingers faster for her. She gently nibbles your scent gland, sending chills through you.

“Fuck baby, careful or you’ll leave a bruise I’ll have to explain” you tell her

“Wish I could make you mine though.” she says in your ear

You smile, “I am yours Wanda, always will be.”

Her lips crash into yours as she kisses you hungrily, she slips her tongue into your mouth, her tongue finds yours as she deepens the kiss. You can feel her legs tremble as her walls squeeze your fingers slightly, knowing she's close you add a third finger and circle your thumb around her clit. She moans again breaking the kiss, you rest your forehead on hers as she focuses on her upcoming orgasm.

“I love you Y/n.” she manages between gasps

“I love you too, Wan” you reply as you begin kissing her scent gland effectively sending her over the edge, her slick gushes onto your fingers as she cums, her legs shake as she leans into you.

You slowly remove your fingers and she watches as you suck them clean, you kiss her again letting her taste herself on you. She hums at the taste. You lie back more in her nest pulling her with you so she can lie on top of you, she snuggles into you as you wrap your arms around her.

She looks up at you, “What about you?”

You smile at her, “I can wait, right now I just want to cuddle you.”

She smiles, settling back into you. You gently run one of your hands up and down her back and she begins to purr. You chuckle softly, you found her purr incredibly cute even though you could also produce the sound. She shivers suddenly.

“You cold? We can get a blanket, or you can get redressed.” you tell he

She nods, getting up she grabs her clothes from earlier taking them with her as she goes to use the bathroom. No sooner does she close the bathroom door does someone knock on the door to the bedroom. You swallow hard, no one had ever come around this soon after you and Wanda had been together. You were sure whoever it was would be able to tell what had occurred if you opened the door. They knock again.

“Hey, come on guys. I know you're in there, I asked FRIDAY to check. I got to talk to you.” Yelena says from the hall. Damn, if you didn’t answer her it would look really suspicious.

You walk over and hesitantly open the door for her avoiding looking at her, “Hey Yelena” you manage to say, but she doesn't reply. You chance a glance at her and find her eyes are dilated as she stares at you. Oh fuck, yep she knows.

She quickly grabs the collar of your shirt and shoves you backwards into the room, slamming the door shut with her foot, her eyes don’t move from you until Wanda walks into the room speaking to you.

“Detka(baby)? What was-” She freezes when she sees Yelena holding you, staring at you with dilated eyes. Wanda becomes aware the Alpha knows about the two of you and fear shoots through her. Would the Alpha hurt you for this or separate the two of you permanently?

Finally Yelena speaks, “What the hell are the two of you doing?”

There's no anger in her tone but Wandas eyes start to fill with tears anyway. You can see her bottom lip tremble and you yearn to go comfort her, but the current hold the Alpha has on you prevents you from doing so.

“Please Yelena, don’t tell the other Alphas. Don’t have her taken away from me. Please.” the Omega begs as she nervously twists the rings on her fingers, tears beginning to fall down her face.

Yelena suddenly looks taken aback, “I…what? Hey, no I wasn't..I wouldn't….ugh.” she releases her hold on you, “Go, comfort your girl please. The tears are killing me.”

You're confused, but you gladly go to Wanda, you engulf her in a hug, “Shh, it’s ok. I’m right here baby.” She tucks her head into your neck and her arms wrap around you tight as she hugs you back. You can hear Yelena shuffle around awkwardly behind you. You pull back as much as Wanda allows and place a kiss on her forehead before looking to the Alpha.

“I’m not going to tell anyone about the two of you. I don’t care that the two of you are a thing, it doesn't bother me. I just panicked for you because you mated in the middle of the day where me at your door could have been literally anyone else, and I know there are Alphas and Betas here who wouldn't approve of the two of you and I don’t want them catching you and making something happen to you guys.” the Russian suddenly rambles

The Omega in your arms sniffles but looks at the Alpha across the room, “I’m sorry I thought the worst of you. I just saw you holding Y/n, and I could tell you found out about us and I got scared.” she admits

Yelena nods, “It’s ok. Just, be more careful about this sort of thing. Save most of it for nighttime or daytime when most of the team is on a mission.”

“We’ll be more careful from now on, promise.” you tell her

“Alright then, I’ll go ahead and leave the two of you be.” she says, turning towards the door

“Wait, I thought you wanted to talk to us about something, isn't that why you came here in the first place?” you ask

“It’s fine, it wasn't that important anyway.” she says with a wave of her hand and a smile

“Ok then, see you later.” you reply, even more confused than before as she leaves

She attempts to hold in her excitement as she heads off to her sisters room with this information. Once she gets there she doesn't bother knocking she just bursts in with a shit eating grin on her face.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #alpha!natasha #alpha!natasha romanoff #alpha!nat #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #omega!wanda #omega!wanda maximoff #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o fic #a/b/o universe #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o

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whxtedreams · 10 hours

Text

Those damn puppy eyes

Inspired by rupi kaur poem

They should feel like home A place that grounds your life Where you go to take the day off - The one (the sun and her flowers - page 180)

word count: 1.5k

Pairing: neighbour!joel x reader

tags: sad!reader, reader just needs a hug, crying, comfort!, hurt & comfort, cuddles, soft kiss, mentions of love, rejection letter, joel miller (pedro) and his puppy eyes will be the death of me, two idiots in love, joel really loves cookies, joel is the king of comfort, soft!joel, photos are for aesthetic purposes only, reader has no description

A Poet's love masterlist - Main masterlist

Your feet are plastered to his front porch, your hands heavy as they hover at his door. You want to knock, to hear his footsteps beyond the door as they race towards you. You want to hear his voice as he calls out that he’s coming. You want to see the smile on his face when he realises that it’s you that’s standing before him.

What you don’t want is for him to see you in the state you’re in. You don’t want him to see your tear stained cheeks. The whites of your eyes strained red from the time spent crying on your couch. You don’t want him to feel your damp sleeves, where you’ve tried to wipe away the evidence of your own emotions.

Your chest burns, your eyes sting and your heart shattered.

But you want him.

What you wanted was to walk into his house like any other night, to hear Sarah upstairs listening to her music on full volume as Joel shoves a pre-made dinner in the oven with his headphones on, drowning out his daughter's music. You want to scare him as you wrap your arms around his middle while he has his back to you, feel him jump in your arms. Hear his huffed laugh as he turns around and kisses your forehead, telling you once again you’re going to give him a heart attack one of these days.

Tonight however there is no music playing in the house. There’s no pre-cooked dinner and there’s no possibility of a heart attack.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you reach for it, opening the text from Joel.

OMW home now darl. Sarah wanted to stick around and chat to her friends. Her team won tonight so shes a little high on adrenaline, get ready for her talking ur ear off tonight ;) bringing home pizza, cant wait to hear about ur day!

A tear slips down and lands on the screen and a soft sob rattles through your body. Of course he’s not home, how could you forget? Sarah had her semi finals tonight, she had been so excited about her first big game last night.

You shove your phone back in your pocket and walk the short distance back home, not wanting to ruin Sarah’s night.

Your phone buzzes again where it sits on the coffee table in your lounge room. The pillow you lay your head on is damp, your tears soaking the material as you lay in silence, your heart heavy. You know it’s Joel, wondering where you are but you don’t want to answer him.

The letter sits beside your phone. The letter you thought was your acceptance into the culinary school you applied to but turned into informing you they had declined your application.

Your front door opens and Joel’s voice fills the air, the sound of his boots shuffling on the doormat as he rids his shoes of any dirt before he enters your house. “Babe?” He calls out as he shuts the front door. “You get any of my texts? Got me all worried-” His words stop as his feet still in the doorway of the living room as he sighs.

He walks around the couch and gently lifts your legs off the couch before he sits down with a huff, placing your legs over his lap as he settles on the couch. His fingers run over your legs and he sits in silence as you sniffle into your pillow.

“The letter came today?” He asks after a moment, already knowing the answer and you nod without looking at him.

His hands still on your legs before they squeeze and you finally tilt your head to look at him. “No matter what they say, you know Sarah and I are always going to be proud of you. You’re amazing at what you do darl’, they’d be fools not to see that.”

You nod, a lopsided smile forming on your face before you sink back into the pillow. “I know, I just really wanted this.”

Joel leans over you then, pushing you slightly to fit behind you on the couch. His arms wrap around you as you shift to make room for him. His chin rests on your shoulder, his legs wrapping around yours and pulling you tight against him.

He pulls you close to him and wraps his strong arms around you, holding you tightly as the warmth of his touch sinks through you. You sink into him, your mind and body relaxing as his arms hold you close to his chest, the heat of his body surrounding and grounding you as the weight of the world seems to slowly lift off your shoulders. Your body shudders at the touch, as though he's somehow absorbing all of your negative emotions and easing the anxieties that lay heavy in your heart.

“I know you did and I’m so sorry baby. We’ll find you another school, yeah? Someone that appreciates your talents.” His mouth kisses your shoulder as he talks and your body relaxes, believing his words once more.

He always does this, always seems to know just what you need, just what will make you feel better, better than any medicine or solution or remedy could ever do. A simple touch is more than enough to calm your worry and soothe your anxieties, to remove all of your worries and fears and to convince you that everything will end up right, as it should be. A few words and a tender smile and you're able to believe in the things that he says, able to believe in the fact that everything will work itself out and that you have nothing to fear.

“I love you.” You sigh and you feel his body shake behind you, a soft chuckle in your ear.

"I love you too, darl," he says, his hand rising over your chest and landing just over your heart, your hand rising to meet his and interlocking your fingers with his. The warmth of his body is enough to overwhelm you, the love that you feel rising through you as you hold onto his hand and feel his touch on your chest, your hand gripping tightly as your heartbeat speeds up slightly at his touch.

You move your head and look in his eyes that glisten with adoration as he looks at you.

Those damn puppy eyes.

He leans in and lands a soft kiss on your lips, the gentleness of the kiss enough to make your breath catch in your throat, your hand tightening around his as all your thoughts and emotions flood from your mind at once. Every time he kisses you, it feels like perfection, as though your souls are meant to come together in this moment, two halves finding each other in the space and the time where they belong. He feels like home, wherever he is becomes safety and warmth and comfort that fills you from the inside to the outside and back again.

He leans back, breaking the kiss and leaning his body back as well. His grip doesn't let up, however, and he looks down at you with a warm smile, a look of genuine affection and care and tenderness on his face as he watches you. You never want to leave his embrace but your stomach aches from hunger and you smile back up at him.

“You mentioned pizza?”

He scoffs and shakes his head, pushing himself up from behind you, a mock offended look on his face and a slight pout that borders on the verge of a smile. "Oh, so you did get my texts?" His voice is light and playful, a tone that makes the pout of his mouth even more evident as he tilts his head to the side slightly, giving you a look of mock disappointment.

“I’m sorry, what can I do to make it up to you?” You ask as he pulls you up from the couch and pulls you right up against his side, his arm wrapping around you tightly as he pulls you close,

His smile turns wicked as his lips ghost over your ear. “I think you know exactly how to make up to me.”

Your smile mirrors his as your turn to face him once more.

“Chocolate chip cookies, right?”

His eyes close as he leans his head on your shoulder, a soft moan escaping his chest as his body relaxes. He leans his head back slightly, his eyes opening again, but his eyes are soft and warm as he looks at you, a fond smile on his face. "You know me so well," He whispers to you, the softness of his voice enough to make you melt into him as he holds you tight.

And you suppose that you do know him, that you know him as well as you can know the feeling of home. The warmth that you feel when you are with him, the comfort that spreads through you whenever he is close, all feels like home. He is home to you, the place where you feel as though you can let down your guard and be your true self, the place where you can take a deep breath and relax.

Because he’s the only one for you.

Notes

it's been over two months since i've updated this fic yikes im sorry. These two have my heart and i just want the best for them.

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel fanfic #joel x reader #tlou #tlou joel #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal

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joelmillerisapunk · 20 hours

Text

Beach Daddy I. Unexpected Encounters

Rich daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Wordcount: 5,849

Summary: You find yourself on a luxurious yacht, invited by your old roommate Sarah, only to discover that her new boyfriend is none other than your very recent ex. Feeling out of place and overwhelmed, you take solace in the kindness of Reggie, Joel's intern, who helps you navigate the ship and offers a sympathetic ear.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of cheating, reader has hair and wears a dress, you meet Joel, there's a few random oc's thrown in

Notes: Hi, I hope you enjoy 🥰 if you're feeling saucy after comments and reblogs and thoughts are always welcome! Ty @saradika-graphics for the dividers

As soon as the soles of your worn-out converse hit the wood of the dock, you know you're underdressed. Your old roommate, Sarah, has invited you to spend a few weeks on her father's boat. But as you approach the enormous white yacht docked at the end of the pier, you realize this is no ordinary boat. The yacht's sides are lined with three stories of windows, reflecting the ocean's crystal clear water.

From where you're standing, you can make out a double staircase leading to an upper deck with a circular swimming pool large enough to land a helicopter in. Men and women in matching black and white uniforms pace the decks, preparing the ship to leave the marina.

When Sarah invited you, you had no idea the vacation would be so extravagant. If you had known, you would have packed something nicer than your department store shorts and tank tops. Truthfully, you don't own anything that would make you feel undressed on a yacht that likely costs more than a private island.

"Wow," you say to yourself.

"What was that, miss? Is there something I can help you with?" The driver asks you.

"Oh, sorry, no, I’m fine. Thank you, though," you answer sheepishly.

"Don’t worry about your bags, miss. Someone from the ship will be down shortly to get them and take them to your room."

Sarah sent a Cadillac to the airport to bring you to the private dock her father owns. You appreciate the gesture more than she knows because even though you accepted her vacation invitation, you're on a very tight budget. Splurging for a taxi from the airport to the Florida coast would have left you choosing between buying textbooks or food when your next semester starts.

This vacation marks the beginning of a massive change in your life. After graduating with your Master’s Degree from NYU, you got accepted into Harvard Law School. You'll be moving out of New York City at the end of the summer and getting a new start.

You worked at a hole-in-the-wall bar to pay your tuition and barely scraped together rent each month from your tips. You lived in an apartment that you shared with your two roommates, Lin and Aubrey. You're not renewing your lease on that dilapidated and overpriced apartment, and the thought of finally getting to quit your job is a fantastic feeling.

After all of the excitement of opening your acceptance letter from Harvard, you notice a shift in the one person you thought would remain your constant through all of the change. That person is Todd, your boyfriend of two years. He dumped you with no explanation the night before graduation.

So when you receive a text from Sarah inviting you on a vacation, you accept without hesitation. You're still hurting from the breakup and wanting to be anywhere other than New York.

"Miss?" A woman in a white polo and black knee-length skirt asks you.

"Uh, yes."

"If you will follow me. Miss Miller is waiting for you."

"Of course," you say with a small smile. It's typical that Sarah would send someone to get you rather than meet you at the dock herself, but you ignore it. You're on a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, and you're going to enjoy every minute of it.

As you reach the deck with the swimming pool, you hear a high-pitched version of your name being yelled and you instantly remember why Sarah and you are friends. She has a way of making you feel special.

Sarah is lounging on a deck chair in a glamorous white bikini with a blue chiffon kimono. As she stands to greet you, you're surprised she's wearing high heels. You thought women only did that on the runway–or maybe in certain kinds of movies....

"Sarah! It is so good to see you. You look amazing, by the way." You're not surprised to see that Sarah already has a pink fruity drink in her hand.

"Oh, thanks. Daddy bought me a new yacht wardrobe while we were in Paris. Isn't this bikini just to die for?" She asks.

"It really is." You smile with your response.

"You look cute too. You’re always dressed like you're in a Gap advertisement."

Your smile almost falters, but you catch it before Sarah notices. You had almost forgotten how Sarah can make you feel special one moment and two feet tall the next.

"The yacht is gorgeous. I had no idea what to expect; I’ve never been on a boat like this before." You admit while brushing off Sarah's previous comment.

"I figured this would be a big treat for you. It’s a shame most of my other friends have a fashion show in London. Anyway, I am glad you could make it."

"I'm glad I could make it too," you say, still trying to maintain your smile.

Sarah snaps her fingers at a young man cleaning the pool while wearing a uniform that indicates he is part of the yacht’s staff. He immediately stops what he's doing, brings over a second pink drink, and hands it to you.

"Thank you so much," you say to him with a sympathetic smile. You take a small sip and are sure you will be having many more of these; it's delicious. The pineapple juice perfectly complements the rum.

"Good, right? It’s a Caribbean rum punch." Sarah says, clearly watching the enjoyment on your face.

"It’s really good. I’ve made these for customers before, but I haven’t had the chance to try one."

"Oh, you still work at that little dive bar?" Sarah asks, but she is clearly uninterested and does not intend to wait for your answer. "You are going to love the yacht," she continues without skipping a beat. "Daddy bought it last year; it is much better than his old one. You and I will be on the second floor, right off this deck, with the pool. Daddy is on the third floor in the main suite. He has a whole deck to himself, but each of our rooms has its own balcony."

You had not had a room to yourself in six years. In your apartment, all three of you shared one bedroom because you couldn’t possibly afford anything bigger. The thought of a room and a balcony all to yourself feels almost too good to be true.

"That sounds amazing, Sarah. I can not begin to thank you enough for inviting me. You have no idea how badly I needed this. I just went through the worst break -"

Sarah cuts you off before you can finish.

"Daddy keeps to himself. He says he has work to do or something like that. So most of the time, we will have the ship to ourselves. It's going to be the biggest party. Daddy even hired a DJ as part of the staff after I begged him."

"Who is us?" You ask wondering how many people she has invited.

"You, me, my boyfriend, and a few other friends. Everyone else will be coming a bit later. They’re taking Megan's private jet, so they'll get in just before we set sail.”

Part of you is nervous to meet the rest of Sarah’s friends. People who have their own private jets are not your usual crowd. However, you feel a bit relieved that there will be other people to entertain Sarah so you can find some time for yourself to relax. Sarah is the type of person who can party for hours on end. She always has to go to one more party, one more bar, or one more club before calling it a night.

“Maybe don’t mention to the others that you could only afford to fly commercial. If you do, at least lie and say you flew first class.”

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend Sarah,” you say, purposely trying to change the subject. “How long have you been seeing him?” Sarah must have changed more than you realized, because in the past she never would have settled for one man. Sarah knows this and flaunts it. She has a line of guys wanting to date her and she likes it that way.

“We have been seeing each other for four months now. He is absolutely amazing. You are going to love him. Plus he's super hot!” She gushes.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet him,” you say with a bit of a laugh.

“You will soon, he just went to our rooms to get his sunglasses. Oh, here he comes now,” Sarah says with a huge smile lighting up her face.

He walks out onto the deck, wraps an arm around Sarah’s waist, and pulls her in for a kiss. Then he turns to you as though you had never met.

“Hey, I’m Todd.”

“Todd?” you say, completely dumbfounded by the fact that your very recent ex-boyfriend is standing in front of you with his arm around Sarah.

“Yea, I’m Sarah's boyfriend. She told me one of her old roommates would be joining us.”

“Um, yea.” You respond awkwardly. At first, you don’t understand why Todd would act like he doesn’t know you, but then a lump forms in your throat. Sarah says they have been together for four months.

“Hey, you should go get changed, and we can all go up to dinner together. We're eating on the rooftop deck tonight.” Sarah says, completely missing the strangeness of your interaction with Todd. She snaps her fingers again at another member of the yacht staff. “Will you show her to her room?”

“Of course. If you will follow me,” the woman says and starts walking towards the double doors leading into the ship.

You glance back at Todd and Sarah and quickly wish you hadn’t. Todd is kissing her again, and then he winks at you as his hand starts sliding down her back. You turn away quickly before you have to see where his hand lands.

“You are in the first room to the right.”

“Thank you so much-” you pause.

“Molly.”

“Thank you so much, Molly. Also, I'm sorry about the snapping. I work as a bartender and always hate when people snap to get my attention.”

Molly smiles genuinely at you after your comment. “Thank you, but we are all used to Sarah and her ways. There is an intercom in your room. If you need anything, just press the button, and someone downstairs will respond.”

You nod and open the door to your room, but room is an understatement. The size and luxury of the room are unlike anything you have ever experienced. The main room houses a king-size bed covered in a white silk comforter. There is also a lounge area with two modern black leather sofas. And your suitcase is already waiting for you on an ottoman at the foot of the bed.

You sigh and throw yourself onto the bed face down in the comforter. It seems like a bad dream that Todd is here, pretending he doesn’t know you, let alone date you for two years.

You were comfortable, and your relationship was secure, or so you thought. It started with little things, like Todd bailing on plans you'd made and how he stopped inviting you to spend any time at his place.

Aubrey was always suspicious of Todd, but you never questioned him. Because you knew, deep down, he was cheating on you, but you went on pretending because it was easier than losing him. You didn’t have to pretend for very long because he dumped you the day before graduation.

You cried for hours on the living room couch as Lin and Aubrey comforted you and supplied you with all the ice cream you could eat. You picked yourself up the morning of graduation and packed away your pain. You would not let Todd, or anyone else, see you beaten; you thought maybe that would make you a good lawyer one day.

You walked across that stage and accepted your diploma with a giant smile on your face because you truly earned it and right after the ceremony, you let yourself fall into misery again.

And now he's dating Sarah.

Sarah had said that they’d started dating four months ago, which meant that Todd was definitely cheating on you. It was just hard to believe that he cheated on you with one of your friends.

Sure, Sarah and you fell in and out of touch as your lives drifted apart, but it still made the betrayal hurt more.

During college, you were very different people. Sarah attended NYU for the party life and never missed an opportunity to go out and have fun. You spent most of your time studying to ensure you didn’t lose your scholarship. Even though you had your differences, you got along for the most part, and while you were living together, you became close friends.

You allow yourself a few more moments of self-pity before pulling yourself off of the bed. You didn't let Todd see you beat at graduation, and you aren't going to let him see it now.

You make your way to your suitcase and roll it into the connecting ensuite. As you walk through the double doors of the ensuite, you are shocked again by the sheer size of the yacht. You take your time unpacking each item of clothing and hanging it in the closet. You pick out a black knee-length dress, which is the nicest thing you have brought, and change into it.

Just as you finish touching up your makeup, you hear the click of the door latch opening.

“Hey, are you ready? Everyone else is here, and we are all heading up to eat,” Sarah says while she bursts into the room without bothering to knock.

“Yeah. Perfect timing. I just finished.” You walk out of the ensuite and see her standing in a floor-length dress made of silvery fabric. She takes one quick look at you outfit and says nothing, obviously unimpressed by your simple choice. You follow her out into the hallway, where three women and four men in black tie attire talk among themselves.

Sarah makes quick introductions, but the only name you catch is that of the tall brunette woman, Megan, the one with the private jet. Your hands are already starting to sweat, and you're honestly grateful that most of the other guests ignore your presence as waiters bring plate after plate of food and set it in front of each of you.

“Megan, how was the flight here?” Sarah asks.

"Oh, it's the worst. My mom has to take the big jet to Japan for a business conference, so I'm stuck with the little jet. Hudson nearly hit his head on the ceiling because it's so small." Megan throws a seductive look at the tall man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you didn't have the worst flight. She had to fly commercial," Sarah says, gesturing towards you.

"You poor thing. I've never flown commercial, but I hear it's horrible. Do you really have to sit next to strangers?"

"Yeah, you do, but not in first class." You say remembering that Sarah had told you to say you flew first class even though you didn't.

It's typical of Sarah to throw you under scrutiny when you had planned to avoid talking about how you got here or anything else to do with money, for that matter. Luckily, the one dig at you seems to be enough for Sarah because she gets distracted by Todd.

"You are the sexiest woman I have ever met," Todd says as he runs his hand up Sarah's arm.

"You two are the absolute cutest," the woman sitting on your right says.

"Oh, I know, right? It's so fun that we are equally numbered men to women," Megan says, throwing another look at Hudson, who seems completely clueless.

You eat your meal in silence and try your best not to watch Sarah and Todd. However, it's hard to ignore the fact that Todd has abandoned his meal and is instead licking Sarah's neck. She laughs, runs her fingers into his mess of brown curls, and pulls his face to hers.

You make it all the way to dessert before you can't take it anymore and quietly slip away from the table. Of course, no one sees you leave; if they did, no one cares.

As the door closes behind you, a few tears start streaming down your face. You have to get back to your room before anyone finds you crying. You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and do your best to keep any more from falling.

The day's events have finally hit you in full force. You're angry and hurt that Todd has been cheating on you the whole time, and now you have to spend your vacation watching him and Sarah together.

You're so distracted in your thoughts that you run straight into a rock-solid chest.

You had hoped you just ran into one of the yacht's staff members, but you quickly realize the man is not wearing the uniform. All you can see is a suit jacket. You pull back and continue to try to hold back your tears.

"I am so sorry; I should have been watching where I was going," you say while trying to plan your escape.

When you look up at who you ran into, you're met with the most beautiful brown eyes you've ever seen.

"Are you okay, Miss?”

—♡—

Joel is walking down the hallway on his way to the upper deck when he hears a loud burst of laughter. He sighs in frustration; this was supposed to be a quiet escape from work, yet his yacht is full of a bunch of twenty-year-olds.

He had invited Sarah, as a way to spend a bit of time together this summer. Then Sarah asked if she could bring her new boyfriend along, and he agreed without much thought.

Joel met Todd earlier in the week over breakfast, and he seemed like a good kid. He works in finance for his father’s financial firm in New York, so they immediately have so much to talk about.

He is very complimentary of Joel's recent purchase of Explore Air, the second airline that he now owns. It truly is a good purchase, and he has big plans for expansion.

Joel is impressed that Sarah has picked someone who is putting down roots, and he seems like a stable choice. Sarah has never introduced him to a boyfriend before, so he is taking their relationship seriously.

Having her boyfriend join them would be an easy way for him to get to know him better and also give Joel a little more time for himself, which is probably a little selfish. It’s not that he doesn’t love his daughter; he finds it difficult spending time with his daughter; they aren’t very close. He had only found out she existed fourteen years ago, and trying to connect with a ten-year-old with whom he has nothing in common has not been easy.

It doesn’t help that he has bought her everything she could possibly ask for–for the last fourteen years. In the beginning, he did it to make up for missing the first ten years of her life, but after that, it just became easier than dealing with her when she didn’t get what she wanted.

Sarah is now a spoiled and entitled twenty-four-year-old with no plans for her life other than partying and spending as much money as possible.

In classic Sarah fashion, his agreement to let her bring her boyfriend along turned into her filling each one of his guest rooms with her rich and arrogant friends. Sarah also hired a DJ against his wishes, but after a hysterical outburst where she accused him of not loving her, she got her way, just like always. So his quiet and relaxing vacation with his daughter quickly turned into him hosting a summer-long party.

Before he heads to his stateroom, he figures he better play the welcoming host and go up to greet Sarah and her friends. As Joel turns a corner, he bumps into someone. The woman has her head down, so all he can see is her hair.

“I am so sorry; I should have been watching where I was going,” the woman says.

When her eyes finally meet Joel’s, he is surprised it looks like she is fighting tears.

“Are you okay, miss?” Joel says in response. He feels dumb as soon as the words are out of his mouth. She, very obviously, is not okay.

“Yes. I’m just heading back to my room, uh, sir,” she says as she straightens up, obviously not wanting to be caught crying.

“Oh right,” Joel replies, suddenly realizing that she called him sir, so she must be one of the maids.

He starts picking through his memories, trying to remember when he’d hired her. Reggie must have been the one to interview her because he surely would have remembered a woman so captivating.

“Before you do that, would you head up to my stateroom and unpack my luggage? I'm afraid it's been delivered later than usual. Had some business I had to attend to before leaving port, and I didn't get here as early as I would have liked.”

“Oh - I am - Uh -” she starts staring at the floor.

Joel stands waiting for her response. He thinks it is cute how flustered she is; perhaps it's because he makes her nervous. That's pretty common with new hires, but oddly, she makes him feel a bit flustered, which is completely uncommon.

“Yes,” she stammers.

“Thank you so much -” he says with a smile, leaving a pause in hopes that she would tell him her name, but she quickly turns and heads in the opposite direction. He can't help but stare as she walks away. As she slips around a corner and out of sight, he sighs, knowing he needs to make an appearance upstairs.

Joel walks out onto the deck, where a large dining table is placed and decorated with an extravagant centerpiece. The stars reflect over the ocean and create a stunning backdrop for his daughter's dinner party. He is really impressed at how well the staff has done at transforming this space, most likely with very particular instructions from Sarah.

“Daddy!” Sarah screams as he makes his way out onto the deck. She screams a lot, but he notices most girls her age do. Thankfully it looks as though their dinner party is just wrapping up; waiters are clearing away everything from the table.

Sarah runs over and hugs him.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he says kissing the top of her head. “Is everything goin' alright?”

“Everything has gone perfectly so far. The yacht is so awesome; I think my friends could die out of jealousy.”

Joel remains silent, not knowing how to respond to Sarah's need to be the envy of other people. He would leave figuring that out to her mother, Marnie. They hardly speak other than when she needs money from him, which is more often than he'd like.

“Good evening, Mr. Miller,” Todd says as he makes his way over and shakes Joel's hand.

“S'good to see you again, Todd.”

“Likewise. I’d like to discuss a real estate investment I'm working on for a client when you have the time. I would love to get your opinion.”

“Of course. We can talk about it tomorrow night over some drinks.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Miller.”

Joel continues to greet Sarah's friends and make small talk for as long as he can manage. He makes his exit by lifting a glass of champagne in the air and toasting, “To an amazing summer.”

Sarah's friends echo his toast, followed by cheering and chatting amongst themselves. Joel slips out and heads over to a hidden elevator, which goes up one more floor where his room and private deck are located. He really hopes that the group makes their way to their rooms soon. He's exhausted and can not wait to slip into sleep.

He opens the double doors to his room and is slightly disappointed that the maid he met earlier was already gone. His suitcase was missing from where he left it, so she must have come and gone while he was greeting my guests.

He immediately makes his way to the bar cart and pours himself a glass of whiskey taking a long sip of his drink, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the maid he ran into. It’d been a long time since someone had caught his attention as she did. She did seem much younger than him, though. He wasn’t sure that would be a problem.

He walks over to the screen mounted on the wall next to the door, and at the press of a button, the wall of windows at the far end of the room slid open, eliminating the barrier between his living room and private deck. That feature was one of the main reasons he purchased this particular yacht. He thought there would be nothing better than feeling the ocean breeze and hearing the waves even while hiding away in his stateroom.

He steps onto his deck and could see the dinner party continuing without him one deck below. The muffled sounds of conversation and laughing are the only sound drifting up to him.

Joel sips his drink and watches the white foamy waves follow the yacht as they move through the water. It's the only way he can tell they're moving as the sky darkens to a deep blue. He sits back, relaxing, and imagines the woman's eyes staring back at him.

—♡—

“Are you okay, miss?” the attractive man asks after you run directly into him.

“Yes. I’m just heading back to my room, uh, sir,” you respond.

“Oh, right,” he says, lost in thought. He pauses for a few seconds and then continues.

You stumble over your words, mortified that he clearly thinks you are a member of the staff rather than a guest on the yacht. However, you suppose you look nothing like the typical guests.

“Yes,” you finally say, deciding it is easier than trying to explain the mix-up. He thanks you and continues standing there, staring at you, making sure you are actually going to go unpack for him.

You quickly turn and head back down the long hallway. You must be headed in the right direction because the man does not tell you otherwise. Unfortunately, this is leading you in the opposite direction of your room.

You take a few turns, trying not to accidentally run into the man again and have to explain that you don’t work for him. You should have just told him from the start, but he startled you, and you got a bit distracted staring at his face.

He has a very nice face and a very nice body, and you can’t stop thinking about him. It isn’t too long before you are completely turned around; the ship is so outlandishly large.

Exhausted and embarrassed, you find a small alcove off of the main hallway, lean your back against the wall, and slide to the floor. You just need a minute to yourself to get control of your emotions, but a door opens next to you and cuts that time short.

You jump to your feet and smooth your hands over your dress.

“Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” the man says. He is very clean-cut, with smooth black hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. You guess that he isn’t much older than you are.

“I’m a friend of Sarah’s,” you introduce yourself, not wanting to get mistaken for part of the staff again.

“Oh, wonderful. I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” he says with a genuine smile. You feel at ease in his presence, happy to have finally found someone who isn’t already judging you.

“I am, but I may need some help. I ran into someone down the hall, who mistook me for one of the maids and asked me to unpack for him. I don’t want anyone to get into trouble if it doesn’t get done,” you say, slightly embarrassed. “Can you help me?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that happened to you. Do you know who it was?”

“Uh, it was a man wearing a very nice suit - but that probably doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Not exactly,” he says with a sympathetic grin.

“He was tall with dark brown hair that perfectly complements his brown eyes. He had a concrete jaw that was peppered with black and silver facial hair. His voice was deep, had a southern accent, and he smelled like sandalwood,” you say, picturing the man in your head.

After a few moments, you realize you’ve said way too much. If you could have jumped off the railing and into the ocean, you would have.

“That is Mr. Miller,” he says quickly, saving you from further embarrassment. “I am his intern, so I can make sure someone goes and takes care of his luggage.”

Did he say… Mr. Miller? As in, Sarah’s dad?

“Thank you so much,” you say. “You will have to forgive me. It’s been a long night, and I’ve been so rude and haven’t asked your name.”

“You can call me Reggie.”

“Well, thank you so much, Reggie. Can I ask you for one more favor?”

“Of course,” Reggie says with his signature smile.

“I got a little turned around after leaving the dinner party upstairs, and I’m not sure how to get back to my room.”

“It would be my pleasure to escort you back to your stateroom, Miss,” he says and offers you his arm.

“Thank you so much,” you say as you take his arm, absolutely delighted by the gesture.

Reggie is leading the way back to your room when he says, “Please don’t hold it against Mr. Miller for mistaking you for part of the staff. He has been under a lot of stress lately and passed the hiring off to me. Since you weren’t at the dinner party, it’s likely he just figured that you were a new hire. He really is a kind person and would have never intentionally offended you.”

“He didn’t offend me. I know I don’t fit with Sarah’s other friends, so it was an easy mistake to make. I could have straightened everything out, but I was a little distracted by some personal issues.”

“Do you need to vent?” Reggie asks innocently.

“It’s just that I went through a really difficult breakup, and I hoped this trip would help me get my mind off of him. It hasn’t worked out that way,” you say, trying to remain as vague as possible.

“I’m very sorry. Was it a long relationship?”

“Two years.”

“Ouch. Well, just give it a bit more time. With what Miss Miller has scheduled, I’m sure you will have plenty of distractions to keep your mind off of things.”

You laugh. “I’m sure you’re right. There is never a dull moment with Sarah around.”

Just as your conversation wraps up, you reach your door. You are so relieved to be back in your room that you could have hugged Reggie. You feel like you could talk to him about anything, and it helps you to feel as though there is at least one person on this ship who has not immediately judged you.

“Thank you so much for all of your help, Reggie. I don’t know what I would have done had I not run into you.”

“I’m here to help anytime. That goes for all of the staff on the yacht. If you need anything at all, just ask.”

You nod as Reggie walks away, and you slip into your room.I You head straight to the bathroom for that giant tub you discovered earlier. You have never been so in need of washing away the events of a day before.

You soak for almost an hour when the water starts getting cold, you reluctantly pull yourself out and wrap yourself in a fluffy bath towel.

You change into your pajamas, a pair of gray shorts, and a Harvard T-shirt. Your grandfather sent you the T-shirt as soon as you told him you’d been accepted; he was so proud.

You pull out your phone to send him a quick text telling him that you are okay. You should have sent it as soon as you arrived, but you forget in the chaos of seeing Todd with his arm around Sarah's waist.

You type out a quick message reading, "Hi Gramps. I made it safe. I will keep you updated. Love you." When you go to hit send, you realize you have no service. So not only would you not be able to contact your grandpa, but you can't update Lin and Aubrey about this horrible situation you are in. You sigh in defeat and toss your phone onto the bed.

Instead of talking with your friends, you use the intercom system in your room to call down for a cup of chamomile tea. You are shocked at how quickly there is a knock at your door. You take the tray and make your way out onto your private balcony.

The balcony is large enough to fit a lounge chair and a small breakfast table. You quickly make plans to put that to use in the morning. It would be amazing to sip your coffee and listen to the sound of the ocean.

You take a seat on the lounge chair and place your tray in front of you. A tiny teapot and matching cup are accompanied by a small plate of macaron cookies. You pour yourself a cup of tea and bite into one of the pink, dainty cookies.

You can't help thinking that this vacation would be perfect if you could spend the whole time in this room. Unfortunately, you would have to come out eventually and face Todd. You could have told Sarah the truth about Todd being your ex, but now that you are sailing, you have no escape.

It would have made the rest of the vacation unbearably awkward if you'd told Sarah. You have to keep this secret, at least until you are all back on land. A flash of shame hits you when you remember the other secret you would have to keep from Sarah.

The fact that you are undeniably attracted to her dad.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller smut

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 23, Undressed - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions: of drug use, drug dealing, stripping, prostitution, drug overdose, seizures, organized crime.

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: After using your quick wit and computer skills to get you both out of a sticky situation, Tony offered you a job, and a beautiful friendship was born.

A/N: And we are ON THE MISSION! Welcome to Atlantic City, besties!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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The Wiggle Room was nothing like Beantown Burlesque, of that you were certain. For a stripclub, Beantown had still managed to cater to a relatively upscale clientele, demanding exorbitant cover charges, selling overpriced drinks, and charging a premium for lap and private dances– hell, Tony Stark had gone there. And they never, ever, encouraged you to take on any ‘extra’ services for customers. Sure, clients asked, but girls were fired for accepting, and if a client wouldn’t take your ‘no’ for an answer, Beantown’s bouncers were more than happy to send them flying out the door on their asses.

You quickly learned that The Wiggle Room played by an entirely different set of rules when a customer asked if he could snort a line of coke off of your ass during your first shift. Everyone, it seemed, was high on some kind of drug, customers and coquettes alike. It made it surprisingly easy to get information out of people without rousing too much suspicion onto yourself.

Within the first two weeks, you and Sam were able to uncover that most, if not all, of the missing women you were investigating had either been, or tried out to be, dancers, bought drugs, or prostituted themselves out of the club. You were definitely in the epicenter of the disappearances. You positively had the where, but you were still far from discovering the why and the who.

You and Sam had set up a temporary caseboard in the dining nook of the apartment you were using as your safehouse. The two of you had already been good friends, but playing a couple at the club and sharing tight accommodations had intensified the power of your bond, and as you sat in front of the caseboard eating your Chinese takeout together, you couldn’t help but rib one another.

“Lavender definitely has a thing for you,” you pointed your chopsticks at him, referring to one of the club’s older dancers, who, at 45, had taken a shine to the Falcon from the moment he’d taken his position as member of the club’s security team.

“Well, can you blame her?” Sam said, slurping up the noodles of his lo mein. “Hard to resist a good piece of dark chocolate, and Ole Sammy’s a fine box of Godiva.”

You wrinkled up your face. “Okkkay,” you said, “ignoring the fact that there’s so much gross in that statement that I don’t even know where to begin, should I give her your number, then?”

Sam nearly choked on his food. “Absolutely not!” he coughed. “She’s got six kids!”

“Wow, Samuel,” you said, pretending to be offended on Lavender’s behalf, “I didn’t realize you were prejudiced against single moms. Does Sarah, know that fascinating tidbit about you?”

“Nuh-uh, Baby Girl. Don’t you go tryin’ to put words in my mouth. I got nothin’ against single moms– they’re the backbone of this country– but Lavender’s also got six baby daddies she doesn’t know how to quit. I ain’t lookin’ for that kinda drama in my love life, thank you very much.”

You took a bite of your chicken & broccoli. “Fair point,” you conceded. “I’ll allow it.” Sam tipped his head to you in his thanks.

You let your attention drift back to the board. In addition to photos of the missing women, you’d also managed to populate it with a combination of ID photos and mugshots of the club’s employees and management. As you’d learned the identities of your coworkers, you’d been able to piece the hierarchy of the organization together, but you only got as far as the club’s owner, Vladimir Kozlov. When you’d sent his name and some covert photos back to the Tower, you hadn’t been surprised to receive word back from Natasha that Kozlov had, at one point, been a low-level thug in the Russian mob. What you hadn’t yet been able to decipher, however, was how he kept the club afloat. According to your research, the Wiggle Room was hemorrhaging money, its expenses far surpassing its recorded income, yet Kozlov dressed himself in the finest European suits and drove a seemingly never-ending rotation of sports cars that would rival Tony’s.

You and Sam had both come to the shared conclusion that Kozlov didn’t have the brain cells to run a successful, let alone lucrative, criminal operation on his own, and therefore, there must be silent partners involved in the club that you’d not yet been able to identify. The drugs that were sold out of the club could account for some of its income, but not nearly enough.

“I’ve got an idea,” you said, turning back to Sam.

“Why do I feel like someone just walked over my grave when you said that?” he asked you with an exaggerated shiver.

You cocked your head. “Probably because it’s a terrible one.” Nibbling on your lower lip, you debated whether or not to tell him. He was going to hate it, but you couldn’t think of a better way to get closer to Kozlov’s inner circle. “I think I should start buying drugs from Kozlov’s men.”

The look Sam gave you was withering. “Pocket,” he warned, “that’s an actual crime.”

“I’m not going to do them, Sam!” You put down your carton of rice. “I just need to make them think I am. Kozlov keeps the girls that buy from him close– he likes how they come to rely on him. I think it gets his rocks off to have them be dependent on him. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he lets things slip in front of them because they’re too strung out to pay attention.”

Sam seemed to consider your proposal. “I don’t like it, Baby Girl,” he said. “It sounds dangerous. What if he tries to take advantage of you?”

You held up the silver bangle that served as your distress signal. “Then I call for the calvary,” you said. “I won’t actually be high, so I’ll still have my wits about me.”

“So, you think you know enough about gettin’ high to fake it in front of a bunch of drug dealers?” Sam asked, clearly thinking you were overestimating your acting abilities.

You puffed a breath out of the corner of your mouth. “Yeeeeah. So, here’s the thing… I might have spent a good chunk of my teen years on a variety of illegal substances.”

Sam’s eyebrows went comically high. “Come again for Dark Chocolate?”

How to be truthful yet maintain your sense of dignity here? “Everyone at the Tower knows how my childhood was rough, yeah? That my parents were shit? And that’s the reason I don’t have anything to do with them?” Sam nodded. This much of your past, at least, was common knowledge, and you were more or less keen to leave it that way. “Alright, so, part of that shit was that my mom and her boyfriend were drug addicts. Mom preferred meth and booze, but the boyfriend was less discriminate. He’d do anything if it got him high enough. When he needed me to… let’s say ‘behave,’ he’d give me something, whatever he had on hand. Weed, MDMA, coke, benzos, Special K, opiates. Really didn’t matter to him. The drugs made me easier to control. So, I know how to act like I’m high, because I’ve been high. A lot.”

The look in Sam’s eyes morphed from disappointment at your idea to horror at your revelation. “Fuck. Baby Girl, I had no idea.” You couldn’t meet his gaze; unlike your past as a stripper, this was something you were deeply ashamed of.

“It’s fine, Sam,” you told him, picking your food carton up again just to give you something to focus on. “It was a long time ago.

“What made you stop?” he asked, no judgment, just genuine sincerity in his question.

“Same thing that saved the rest of my sorry ass,” you shrugged, playing with the flaps of the paper carton. “Tony. By that point, though, it was mostly just Adderall to focus on school work and so I could stay awake to take more shifts at the club, and weed for when the Adderall wouldn’t let me sleep.”

“One time, I took too much Adderall to cram for a final, and I had a seizure. Tony had to take me to the hospital, and he was furious– I’ve honestly never seen him so mad. Trust me when I say it made his fight with Cap look like a playground spat. I thought for sure he was going to wash his hands of me. I wouldn't have blamed him.”

The memory of it played through your mind, the sheer disappointment in Tony’s eyes as the doctors told him what they’d found in your system.

“But, the thing was, Tony blamed himself, said he’d put too much pressure on me. Kept saying he was turning into his father, and he couldn’t have that. So, instead of tossing me out on my ass like he should have, he got me help.”

Sam’s mouth hung open. “I’m sorry, but I think we know two different Tony Starks. This altruism does not jive with the man I work with.”

You smiled and shrugged your shoulders again. “Not my fault he likes me better than you, Samuel. I am a lot cuter.”

“Debatable,” Sam replied before taking a swig of his beer. He looked thoughtful for a moment. “If you don’t think it’s gonna be too much of a temptation for you,” he said after a pause, “I think the drug-buying might work. We can give it a shot, at least.”

You sipped your iced tea. “Won’t be a problem, Sammy. The girl who constantly did that stuff is gone, and she’s not coming back.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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wheelsup30 · 3 days

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Fixing it (Aaron Hotchner x Gn!Reader)

(Note: self indulgent angst bc I'm bleh)

cw: angst, argument, reader is pretty harsh, gn reader but use of 'honey',

word count: 613

“It's getting bad again, isn't it..?”

His voice rumbles you out of the staring contest you were having with your pen pot, and you slowly turn to face him, tired eyes holding a hint of confusion.

“Hm?”

“You're staring. You haven't put a word into that case file in a half hour, Honey…” You hated the look on his face, the pity disguised as concern. It felt patronising, like he had found a mucky kitten on the street and was taking it to a shelter with no intention of actually adopting it.

That wasn't fair. He cared- truly, he did. But like your father, your boyfriend was a fixer. It was never just listening with him, it was advice, it was something you were doing wrong that was causing your problems. Well, that was more your father…it may as well be Aaron too, he was all but implying it with his tone.

Okay, that still wasn't fair. But you felt bad, and when you felt bad your thoughts were bad. Though you always managed to hold your tongue so you didn't hurt people's feelings, because god forbid you felt worse somehow.

“You should get some sleep…” His hand on the back of your neck made your skin crawl, and you shrug it off, mumbling a “I'll be fine, I need to stick to the routine.”

“But you're sleeping less,” You always managed. “You should at least take a nap-” to hold your tongue.

“Aaron!” You suddenly shout, turning to look at him sharply. “I just told you, I'm not taking a fucking nap!”

He flinches, a look like a kicked puppy on his face that makes you hate yourself, but then he opens his mouth again and you can't stop yourself.

“You have to accept that I'm just not okay! I'm not! End of!” Your volume doesn't lower, and neither do his slightly panicked eyebrows. “Why do you always do this? Why do you try and make me be okay when I can't do shit about it? Do you know how shitty that feels? I already feel awful and then you get that-...that look when I don't have an answer for what you can do! Then I'm the bad guy!”

Silence rings out heavy after, the sound of your breathing the only thing between the two of you…then his voice breaks your heart. “I just…wanna help.” He says gently, then holds his hand up to stop you cutting in. “And I know I can't most of the time…but how can I know I can't if I don't ask?”

How can he? It's a good point, you'll give him that…didn't make it any less draining to hear him ask, a fact he probably just came across in his own train of thought judging by the slight frown he was wearing.

“I'd tell you, babe…” It's the quietest thing you've said during the entire conversation, mainly because your head is starting to hurt and the anger has dissolved back to exhaustion. “I'll tell you.”

Slowly, so you have time to stop him if you want to, he walks up to you and turns your chair, letting you wrap your arms around him and lean against his stomach while he gently ran a thumb over your hair. “I'm sorry…” He practically whispers.

You were too, at least a little. You'd be more sorry once you were out of the thick tar of this depressive episode, but you knew it would probably be appropriate to apologise sooner rather than later. “I'm sorry too…”

And there you both remain for a few minutes. A small break from the routine you'd probably stop forcing soon if this didn't let up. He may be irritating and overbearing about it, but he did know you well.

#leowrites #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x gn!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x gn reader

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fuck-customers · 1 day

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Managers👏fucking👏communicate👏challenge!👏

I've asked many, many, many times that if managers are going to ask me to come into work on my days off to provide the necessary information. They refuse or "forget" or only provide partial information. So if I'm not given all of this information initially, I am not responding.

1. What time do they want me to clock in at? "ASAP" or "whenever you can be here" can sometimes be acceptable answers, in instances where I'm extending my already scheduled shift, not coming in on my day off. But if that is the answer, then I definitely need to be provided with more information. Such as...

2. How long will the shift be? I will accept answers in two forms: "from x time to x time" and "come in at x time for a x hour shift" This is actually a surprisingly big one, because I learned the hard way that if I didn't confirm ahead of time, I got suckered into a 2 hour shift. A complete waste of time. Or the opposite- I end up getting roped into an 8 hour shift but wasn't given the information ahead of time and couldn't pack a lunch and now I have to waste half of my lunch break buying food during lunch rush.

3. What department? Ok so I clock in and go....where? At my store, we are all cross-trained in all departments (or we're supposed to be- I am at least- so we can fill in wherever needed) I need to know what section of the store to head to. And depending on the department, I need different tools. For example, if I'm a cashier, I usually don't need to grab a box cutter. But if I'm stocking, I need one to open shipping boxes. Also, I hate register and I want the option to decline ahead of time.

I just received a text that simply says "are you available to come in?" which meets 0/4 of the necessary information requirements, so I will not be responding.

(Just to be clear- I have repeatedly explained to all members of management over multiple years that I need ALL of this information in order to determine if I can cover a shift. It's not like I made up secret rules in my head and magically expect everyone to read my mind. I have been very clear and consistent about needing this information. So no information=no coverage from me)

Posted by admin Rodney.

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shadowxamyweek · 23 hours

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Is Shadow being immortal canon? I thought it was just a generally accepted headcanon by the fandom

...Yes?

The pause and questionmark are not directed at you, they are directed at Sega.

I confess, I'm a bit of a stickler for what lore I consider canon. If it's in the games, it's canon to me. If it's anything outside of the games, including the game manuals themselves... then it's not.

I have such a narrow-bracket view of the story and these characters due to two things:

1: There seems to be a disconnect between the different 'branches' of the Sonic Franchise. There's the Shadow we see in games, there's the Shadow we see in marketing and social media (like Twitter Takeover), There's the Shadow we see in IDW, and then there is the Shadow we see Sega write about in character profiles like on Sonic Chanel and the official Sonic the Hedgehog website. This exists with all the characters to a degree, but I feel Shadow presents an egregious case of it. 2: Sega has a tendency to retcon things or change their language or act like stuff didn't happen and... I don't like it XD But they can't change games that have already been published and played. As such, to me, in-game dialog/play/story/etc is the crowning jewel of truth within the Sonic story.

But that these are *my* paramaters. They do not have to be *your* parameters.

So while there hasn't been any mention of immortality *in game*, there has been plenty *outside* of it. Lots of different official Sega sources say Shadow is 'immortal', but no examples or specifications have been provided in game. There's also plenty of times the whole 'immortality' portion is omitted. Most noticeably, it's not mentioned in the Sonic Channel character profile, nor the character profile provided on the official Sonic the Hedgehog website. At best, it is mentioned intermittently in game manuals and external sources.

(And I know we see Shadow in stasis in 06- I'm aware- but I'll also point out we don't know *when* he went into stasis. Furthermore, I cannot help but wonder if, much like Black Doom in SHtH, Mephiles took a portion of truth and twisted it to scare Shadow. (Also, like.... Shadow was under such heavy security when GUN put him down for an ice nap the first time. Why would they just leave him out and about like was shown in 06? I doubt the truth of what Mephiles shows Shadow.))

I actually reached out to @squid-in-a-party-hat, @fyeahsonicthehedgehog (x), and @forgottensonicfacts (x), as well as some friends of mine like @shadamyheadcanons for help collecting information to provide you with as well-rounded answer/opinion as I can. In fact, Squid has a video on this very subject XD They do a great job of weaving together all the different types of canon (comic, anime, social media, etc) so if that's how you prefer to operate, I really, really recommend them.

Anyway, Here are some game manual examples in chronological order.

SA2 (2001):

Sonic Heros (2003):

And...I want to take a moment to show something interesting between the original Japanese and the English translation. The japanese translation says 'unaging and undying' which gives us narrower guidelines, but the Heros profile is the only time I've seen that.

Shadow the Hedgehog (2005):

Which OUT OF ALL OF THEM you'd think it would be mentioned in his title game but like... *gestures*

Sonic 06 (2006):

Sonic and Mario at the Olympic Games (2020):

Then there are these online examples, stemming from both Sonic Chanel and the Sonic the Hedgehog Website. They are both officially owned and operated by Sega/Sonic Team. Note they don't mention his age or the immortality at all.

Sonic Chanel, 2007:

Sonic Chanel, 2010:

Sonic Chanel, 2022:

This is the character profile put up on the Sonic the Hedgehog website 2024, separate from Sonic Channel but still official.

(In talking to @forgottensonicfacts- I had asked about times Shadow had been called 'ageless' or '50.' Turns out the 'ageless' bit was written in a Scholastic's book and, so far as anyone has found.. there is no official mention of Shadow being listed as '50 years old.' I had been so sure it had been officially listed at one point in time. Really glad to be wrong on that one, frankly, because that would have been daft XD)

So this is what we have about Shadow's 'immortality' that has been put out by Sega themselves. Not the comics, not the media team, just Sega/Sonic Team.

Now... this is where I pick apart that word 'Immortal' and broaden the scope a bit.

Not to be 'that bastard,' but I popped on to the Oxford Dictionary just to get a concrete definition for you and they define the adjective use of the word as being, "living forever; never dying or decaying."

1- Shadow's already almost died. He *would* have died were it not for Eggman saving his sorry ass. We know this. It's a whole-ass plot point in his story because it's due to this he ends up with amnesia.

2- Even though Gerald was tinkering with immortality, that doesn't mean he succeeded. We also don't know how that immortality would look/work/act like.

3- In Sonic Battle (for Gameboy), several of the characters have a healing ability. Shadow is one of them. However, Shadow's healing ability is one of if not *the worst in the game.* Also, in the story itself, he get shot and is down for the count *for a while*.

4- We have not seen any of the characters physically change in game save for the big age up/design shift that happened when Sonic went 3d in Adventure. As such, we cannot personally test/see whether or not Shadow goes through any changes at all, be them aging or just changes to their body.

So... all in all... I feel this leaves a huge amount of room for interpretation.

Maybe Shadow isn't immortal after all. Nothing spectacular, it's just that portion of the Ultimate Life Form project didn't succeed.

Maybe the 'immortality' is his healing factor, and it needs to willfully be employed. As such, if Shadow WANTS to age, they need to intentionally and willfully allow themselves to do so by NOT employing the healing factor.

Maybe the 'immortality', being the healing factor, can wear down/slow down over time, especially due to overuse.

Maybe Shadow can live forever barring any really traumatic physical harm, but their body will physically change over time.

Maybe Shadow is immortal like how Oxford puts it, but there is a way to stop that perminantly if they so choose (like genetic therapy).

Maybe Shadow is immortal in the sense that they will never physically age, grow, or change. Ever.

Truthfully, that's pretty cool! Like, this gives people a lot of stuff to work with and play around with, compare notes, talk- that's the fun part of fandom! And no singular person is right! @shadamyheadcanons has this one that's fun. I personally like the idea that Shadow's 'immortality' wears down over time and gets weird, causing their Black Arms genetics to kick off (like a third eye ooooough gimmie gimmie gimmie.)

I don't know if this was the answer you were looking for. Perhaps I've just confused things further- I've been known to do that XD

Ultimately, what I'm trying to say is- it's whatever you want it to be, and nobody can stop you <3 So go have fun!

#shadow the hedgehog #shth #sonic #sega #anon #ask #op rambles #lore #thoughts #I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you #There's been a lot going on- but I really wanted to give you as well rounded an answer as I possibly could

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forasecondtherewedwon · 2 days

Text

trading paper dolls - chapter two

Fandom: Masters of the Air Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 2 / 3 Word Count: 2628

Summary: Tired of the pin-up girls, Alex draws Buck Cleven in a similar style, never intending for the sketch to fall into the hands of Bucky Egan.

read on tumblr: one

Stalag Luft was full of secrets. It was the one thing there was plenty of. If Alex looked as though he were hiding something, well, that was unexceptional; it made him look like everyone else. It made him, if anything, safer, because it increased his trustworthiness in the eyes of those around him. And those eyes were always looking, always peering, always glancing away with a quick flick that you couldn’t quite prove. Luckily, Alex was quick too. While most of those boys had flown (or flown in) bombers, he and Macon knew planes of a different velocity. That made them observant, made them careful, and Alex wanted to be careful with those boys’ trust now that he was gaining it. Trust was the one commodity he knew he wouldn’t be able to buy back if he lost it.

He was still drawing. Actually, he was drawing more publicly than he had before, even testing out a sketch on the hut’s front step, the cold biting his fingers as he gripped the pencil. Two goons on patrol passed his perch. Alex glanced up and saw one of them looking at the page in his hands, but then the guard only sneered and continued on, neither alerting his companion nor disciplining Alex for whatever crime they might’ve decided he had committed by drawing a pretty white girl in close-fitting pajamas. Spreading filth? Having a hobby? Surely those were both extreme offences in the eyes of cogs in a genocide machine, Alex thought sarcastically as he retreated into the bunkhouse, flexing his freezing fingers.

“You know I’ll help you no matter what,” Macon announced from his bunk. “Unless you get frostbite from bein’ stupid. That’s where I draw the line.”

Alex rolled his eyes and crossed the room to sit heavily on his own bunk.

“Got it.”

He knew that wasn’t the end of it though; he could feel Macon looking over his shoulder, like he always did, like a judgemental angel.

“What’re you doin’, doin’ that out there?” Macon demanded.

“I thought…” Alex sighed and set the half-finished drawing aside. “I thought I could make a trade.”

“With Nazis?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. Guess they’re horny too. Maybe you should draw a girl in a… what’s the dame version of lederhosen?”

“Dirndl.” The answer came from Crank, reading at the table.

“Dirndl,” Macon repeated, instead of telling Crank to mind his business, like Alex knew he probably wanted to. They were both feeling fortunate for the group’s tentative acceptance of them though, and Alex was glad Macon seemed equally unwilling to jeopardize that over a small annoyance. Crank could hardly help overhearing them anyway.

Alex laughed.

“Yeah, maybe next time.” He hunched forward and rubbed his forehead. “Or it was just stupid, like you said.”

“What’d you think they’d give you?” Macon wondered.

“Not much they have access to—not much material. I was hoping, you know, information.”

Macon burst into laughter that startled the book out of Crank’s hands.

“You thought…” he panted. “You thought those damn Nazis were gonna take one look at those perky cartoon sweater-fillers and let you in on their plans?”

“I don’t see you tryin’ anything!” Alex said defensively. The plan hadn’t sounded quite so foolish in his head as it did leaving Macon’s mouth.

“Maybe you could bandage my damn neck with something and see if one of them goons feels tempted to write secret information on it.”

“Alright,” Alex said, signalling the end of their talk with a dismissive wave over his shoulder at Macon.

So, his plan hadn’t been any good. At least it hadn’t made anything worse. That was always a very real danger, and one Alex did not wish to bring down upon the heads of himself and his bunkroom fellows.

Feeling his ambition had been frustrated but not yet blunted, Alex tucked the pencil behind his ear and left the bunkroom. He went to the library, where he hoped he’d be able to make some real progress. It was empty when he arrived. Skimming his fingers over the spines, Alex drew a book from the shelf seemingly at random. He made sure to sit away from the windows and facing the door so he would be able to see if anyone walked in.

Cautiously, he cracked the book open, then thumbed a few pages back from where the leaves parted naturally. He had left a folded sheet of paper there, and there it remained. Though this wouldn’t have been how he’d have found out had the drawing been discovered (there would have been more violence—more fists, more guns, more dogs), Alex sighed in relief to see it still in its place. He shot another look at the empty doorway before sliding the paper free and unfolding it.

It was a map—one of his. Most days, he had nothing to add. Some days, he added little things, like guessing at the density of a stand of trees. All information was valuable; if anyone tried to escape, perhaps it would be necessary for them to double back, to hide amongst those trees. Lately, Alex had also roughed in dashed lines to represent the routes the goons took when they patrolled the camp. These, of course, weren’t fixed, but he could tell the cold was getting to the Germans too, and that they often followed the same path when they were keeping out of the sharp, dry wind that whipped between the huts. Alex found the line that represented the route the guards had travelled today as he’d sat outside and pressed his pencil to the dashes, darkening the path to indicate repeated use.

Every mark he made on this paper, every line he added, was meticulously straight. Straight fence, straight rows of huts, straight guard paths that turned corners and turned back on themselves with right angles. It was how Alex was managing now, since that other drawing had gone missing. He kept the curves for the fantasy pin-up girls (who were girls, exclusively) and the straight lines for reality. No crossover. He wasn’t tempted to go there again. His truce with Egan felt far too tenuous.

He would feel Egan looking at him at all hours, only to have the man glance swiftly away when Alex summoned the nerve to meet his stare. Alex suspected Egan was paranoid that he was already watching him, which made Alex absolutely certain Egan still had that drawing of Buck Cleven. Neither could expose the other without dooming himself, and Alex guessed he really didn’t know Egan well enough to be sure, beyond doubt, that he wouldn’t do something so unprofitable and reckless.

Alex had no plans to give up Egan’s secret—secrets: that he’d kept the drawing, and what continued possession implied about his other hungers—and he wished more than anything that he could just forget he’d ever done the sketch. Unfortunately, he knew it was out there. So slight, so fragile that paper. So relatively meaningless, considering the scope of their circumstances and their precarious chances in the hands of capricious tormentors, but so valuable for the raw need it betrayed in the one who concealed it. War, Alex knew, confinement… these things winnowed down desires until a man could only want one thing or else feel the lack so sharply that his mind would starve long before the meagre rations gave out. Egan’s one thing was Buck Cleven, and Egan knew Alex knew.

Did he really think Buck didn’t?

—

If Bucky could’ve burnt the paper, he lied to himself and told himself he would’ve. As it was, the drawing kept him warm, no flames needed, making him feel as though someone had dropped a hot spark down the back of his shirt whenever he peeled open the page’s softening folds and stole a glimpse. It wasn’t always easy to resist.

He kept it with him, down in the pocket of his coat. Out in the bitter chill of the yard, hands shoved deep, he would twitch the page between his cold fingers, curl it around his thumb, all while glowering at the goons or chatting with Brady or fetching a pail of water like a goddamn dystopian nursery rhyme. At night, Bucky smoothed the page flat and slept on top of it. He could hear its muffled crinkle when he shifted. He ached with how hard he needed it to not tear, but he couldn’t bring himself to hide it elsewhere. This was how the paper had become worn; this was why it was no longer crisp, but soft, like skin.

The beds weren’t warm, and neither were the bunkrooms that housed them. Still, Bucky managed an occasional sweat. This, added to his body’s persistent grime, was fading the pencil lines Jefferson had drawn. He was seeping into Buck, the lines that made Buck up rubbing off onto his skin and clothing. When he erased him completely—and it was a when, not an if—Bucky wondered whether it would feel like a loss or an accomplishment, a man gone or a single body holding traces of them both. Because he felt, some days, to be only a trace of himself. A lone shot in the night, a slicing sheet of rain snatched away by the wind. He felt sharp and cold and intangible. He clasped the drawing of Buck all the tighter to feel like he was real.

The thought of telling this—telling any of it—to Buck the man terrified Bucky. He couldn’t unzip his skin and unbuckle his ribs and unclasp his heart and say, Look here. This is where I need you. It’s gettin’ pretty desperate, Buck. Better to use the drawing to wipe the filth off his face than to dirty the man.

It would be fine, Bucky told himself—lying again—if not for two things: that Jefferson was a loose end, and that Bucky knew a day was coming, faster and faster, when his body would overrule his brain. Some morning, his eyes would find Buck’s as they were just waking up; some afternoon, he would stand too close to him; some evening, he would lean his leg against Buck’s under the table while the boys played cards; and, late some night, he would go to Buck in the dark and remind him of the radio, would remind Buck how he had gathered what he’d asked for, would say, Put me to use, because I only feel the edges of myself when you define them. Beyond that was an abyss, a haze, a pit—and Bucky’s imagination was too scared to jump.

“Your mouth”—those words were the dual harbingers of Bucky’s collapse. He spoke them to Buck while watching him eat a thin soup with a shallow spoon. Buck paused with that referenced mouth open, spoon on its way up. He lowered it back to the bowl.

“What’s that?” he asked, like he hadn’t heard.

Bucky cleared his throat, then shook his head, wearing a vague smile.

“Your lips are cracking,” he said. “From the cold.” He added, “Mine too,” like that would make it better, but now he was thinking about Buck’s mouth and his own and his head was swimming, only partially from hunger.

Slowly, Buck replied, “Uh huh.” He kept eating.

Bucky stared down into his bowl as he finished the meal. He worried Jefferson was watching him, but he wouldn’t look up to prove it; he preferred being discrete to being right. That might have been a first. Where his glance eventually landed was back on Buck, who wasn’t looking. Regardless, Bucky suspected his suspicion. He felt stupid and obvious. He felt he was one big pair of eyes.

It took minutes for him to fuck it all again, but worse. Dizzingly so.

He’d pushed away from the table after eating, donned his coat, and sought his solitude in the yard. Hadn’t worked. Buck had followed, just long enough after that Bucky knew before he even turned to look at the inevitable owner of the approaching footsteps that he’d taken time to wind the thick blue scarf around his neck. He always took more care than Bucky did; this, this situation, Bucky felt, would never happen to Buck. He would never have succumbed to the same insanity, falling asleep on a drawing of his best friend and waking up with a pale grey tattoo on his stomach where the graphite had transferred.

He turned and nodded at Buck. The blue made Buck look colder—his skin more wan, his eyes that squinted in the pale light bright and diseased—but also more beautiful. In spite of the distress holding the one drawing was causing him, Bucky wanted Buck captured like this too: this pallid, enduring creature against the barren landscape of dirt and huts. Buck walked close and Bucky sighed hot air in his direction.

“Y’alright?” Buck checked, and Bucky nodded but turned away. He didn’t want company.

He strode to the lee of the hut, out of the wind, but Buck came. They went together. Didn’t they always? Bucky leaned back against the wall, hands in his coat pockets.

“John,” said Buck, and that was all.

Then, he did something he hadn’t before, slipping his hand in next to Bucky’s, down in the pocket where Bucky was toying with the folded paper. Bucky stiffened and Buck frowned in confusion. He hadn’t felt it yet, but because Bucky didn’t try to extricate himself, Buck was able to explore. His fingers slid between Bucky’s, slow like rain, and Bucky closed his eyes, knowing it was all over, deciding he was at least going to enjoy these final moments. Buck’s fingers felt slim, his palm rough, his hand an easy one for Bucky to hold. He felt Buck hit the paper and stall his movement. Tears rose like a tide behind Bucky’s eyelids until one rolled out, so cold on his cheek that it was almost hot.

“Something they shouldn’t see?” Buck asked under his breath. He didn’t mention the crying, so Bucky assumed he hadn’t noticed.

He knew who Buck meant: the Germans. He thought Bucky was carrying plans of some kind, maybe a map.

Bucky shook his head, spilling more tears, and now, Buck saw.

His hand went to Bucky’s face. By the time Bucky opened his eyes, it was gone, but he still felt the way Buck’s palm had curve to cup his cheek.

Buck said things, many things, attempting to soothe Bucky even though he didn’t know what was wrong. He said them in the low voice that seemed to roll out of him. But, like a man adrift in the ocean, Bucky had given up. He smiled at Buck as if he were a hallucination—a final sight before his head went under. A kindness from his panicked mind. He understood that this was alarming, what with his wet eyes, but he sniffed and pressed the paper into Buck’s palm, still in his pocket. He felt the back of Buck’s fingers as they closed around it. And then the handoff was over. The waves were rising. His legs were too tired to kick.

Buck concealed most of his confusion, but Bucky knew he would be curious. Even so, he didn’t leave right away. He stayed. The two of them, sheltered from the cutting wind.

“Don’t… just don’t ask where it came from,” Bucky said when Buck finally pushed away from the wall. “That doesn’t matter. I take full responsibility for that.” He darted a look at Buck’s closed fist in explanation. “It’s just mine. Anything now… it’s between you and me, Buck.”

Buck smiled like this was the first thing that made sense.

“Always is,” he said simply.

Bucky nodded his gratitude.

#my writing #MotA #Masters of the Air #Alexander Jefferson #Richard Macon #John 'Bucky' Egan #Gale 'Buck' Cleven #Bucky x Buck #MotA fic

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