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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

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Sleep and Other Things

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Grinding, Fingering (with them metal fingers babbbby), Oral (f), Mentions of Masturbation (f), Sergeant Kink, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Light spanking, Sub/Dom, Hair pulling, Pining, Sexual tension/frustration, Language, Classic Tropes (I will not apologize), Fluff

Word Count: 11K+ (I really went on on this one I’m sorry)

A/N: It’s been TOO long since I’ve written for my bby I apologize

This sucks.

Royally, royally, royally sucks.

And if you could choose from any supernatural powers at all known to man, you’d choose the power of sleep.

Because for the past few nights, it just hasn’t struck you. You’ve tried everything you can think of: punching and kicking away at the bag in front of you in the training room until your knuckles started to bruise, drinking a nice, hot cup of tea, hell even meditation. None of it seemed to work in your favor, and you wanted to punch the force that was holding you back from a full night's rest.

Please God, or you know, whatever is out there listening. All’s I’m asking a normal fucking sleep schedule, is that too much to ask?

The blaring flashes sting your eyes with every white, vicious transition of another rerun on TV. It’s the only light in the otherwise dark room, and it’s dimmed with the volume low so that every stupid little background laughter is dull instead of blaring. And judging by the big red 3:30 on your alarm clock, you’ve been awake for approximately ten hours with no hope of a fulfilled slumber. You believe this is your third night in a row.

You sigh for what seems the hundredth time, flopping onto your right side and shoving your pillow under your arm. The soft fabric and the fresh smell of your favorite laundry detergent is doing nothing to soothe your mind and your body alike, but maybe keeping up the facade that it does will lull your eyes to remain shut and your brain silent; in the back of your mind, annoyingly, you already know that it will not work.

“Fuck it.” You mutter to yourself and throw your covers off. The floor is slightly chilly against your bare feet, but not too terribly cold, and the compound is stable and quiet; more alone time for you, more time to watch the clock slowly tick by as yet another night—day you should say given the time—drags by thorough dark circles and irritable mood swings.

The door is silent as you creek it open, though it doesn’t make one sound and you’re grateful for that. No use dragging everyone down with you.

You’re not exactly sure on what you’re looking for, but it feels right to be where the food is. It’s a start, at least. The good news, too, about going to the kitchen is that it’s not that far from your room, a blessing to you now.

The hallway is dark, too dark for you weak eyes you realize as you stub your toe on a corner of a wall. “OW—oH fuckfuck what the fuckity fu—”

“Shoulda paid attention, doll.”

You whirl around mid-tantrum, hopping on the uninjured foot rather ungracefully towards the raspy voice you recognize in a heartbeat.

The root to your problem is sitting there—short, chopped dark hair, eyes that are sometimes grey and others times blue, like a storm and a ocean living and correlating together to create a beautiful color that you often dream of, and built, toned body hiding behind a black tank top and you’re going to assume matching sweatpants—with a coffee mug in his hands, sitting by the kitchen island and stifling a shit-eating grin as you wallow.

Normally, you’d be very happy to see Bucky. Over the year that you’ve been on the team, Bucky has been nothing but kind to you, even after a rocky start to the friendship. As quiet and closed off as he is, you had managed to weasel your way into his circle; you leave him alone whenever you sense he needs it, not wanting to overwhelm him. Watch TV with him on the couch when it’s just the two of you; sometimes you’d barely say a word to each other at all, happy with the comfortable silence. He jokes around with you if you manage to burn another pancake or whatever concaussion you could scramble up or he’ll invite you to have drinks with him and the others—others being Steve and, despite the pranks and banters, Sam, and so, so much more. It’s as easy as breathing, just being with him, and the comfort and stability that you find in him never fails to put you at ease.

But it’s like somewhere down the road something shifted. You don’t know when or how it happened, but when it did it hit you like a freight train. There’s a pull towards him when you catch yourself paying extra attention to the way his body moves, alerting yours with a sudden new and ferocious need; the daydreams that come from it are even better. The soft, barely there brushes as you pass by or the barely fingertip touch when you’re standing next to each other. The longing stares that makes you wonder if there ever could be more. There’s no denying that you can’t stop looking at him differently now, as more than just the friend you cherish deeply, but as someone who could become more than just.

Sometimes, you even dream of his hand between your legs.

What makes this even worse is that you’ll occasionally catch Bucky doing the same thing to you; he may be faster than you in oh so many ways thanks to his enhancements, but there are moments where you catch him looking quickly away and towards whatever was in front or next to him, eyes glaring like he’s—he’s scolding himself.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda told you when you first explained your worries to her. “That’s what’s happening.”

You shook your head, laughing it off. “Nooo it can’t be Wanda. We’re just—”

“Friends?” She smirked.

“Yes.” You defended. “Just friends. I mean maybe—maybe we’re just going through a phase, and everything will soon go back to normal.”

Wanda rolled her eyes with a smirk. “We’ll see.”

Deep down, you knew that she was right. And that terrified you. Still does, actually. Why would you want to ruin such a good thing over what may be just a stupid, silly crush?

Now, exhausted, frustrated, and hopping around like a moron in the dark, the smug look on his face heavily annoys you more than ever.

“Thanks.” You snarl.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, easily taking in your disdained mood. “Sorry.”

You finally let your foot drop back to the ground, your toe still stinging. Bucky continues to watch you as you limp towards the cabinets and reach for your favorite mug, setting it too harshly down on the marble counter before opening the fridge.

“Try drinking tea,” he says. “It’ll be better than…Dr. Pepper.”

You shrug as you uncap the bottle and pour the sweet soda into your mug. “I’ve already tried that.” You mutter. “Nothing’s been working.”

You hear Bucky shift in his chair, hear the clicks of his metal arm as he stretches it out; he rarely does it when there’s too many people around, letting himself be free with the metal prosthetic. You feel special knowing that he’s comfortable enough to be free in your presence.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks quietly.

You lean your back against the counter and bring the cup to your lips. “Almost a full week now.”

You see him nod from your peripheral vision, straightening his back and taking a sip from his own up you didn’t realize he had until now; it smells like green tea, with a hint of something sweeter. Honey, most likely.

You expect him to ask you more questions but he stays silent as you both take small sips of your drinks. Your eyes are heavy and your body is on the verge of completely slumping against the small space behind you, but you’re still too wired to sleep—okay, Bucky was right on the soda, but you’re not going to admit that to him.

“Why are you awake?” You ask him.

He just shrugs. “Same reason as you.”

That gets you to snort. Yeah right, buddy.

“Tried sparring?” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence, causing you to jump from the intrusion.

“Sorta.” You iffley say. “Still didn’t help me much…I really don’t know what my problem is.” Liar.

He hums softly. “Well,” he puffs as he sits up from the stool. “Let’s go then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

For such a heavy man, it still surprises you when he walks silently towards you, so quietly that if you weren’t looking you’d had no idea if he was moving at all. The familiar smell of his soap overwhelms your senses as he leans in, his left arm stretched to put his cup in the sink. You can’t help but inhale the alluring musk, which causes a shiver to run through your body.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda’s voice rings through your head.

God he really does smell good and he’s warm...stop it!

“So?” He scares you again out of your thoughts, and when you look up he’s close. He’s really close—well, closer than you anticipated for only putting away a dish. He’s looking down at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, but that smirk of his returns and your heart flutters at the close proximity of it.

You set your now empty mug in the sink next to his with a sigh and nod your head. “Take it easy on me. I’m not exactly coordinated right now.”

Bucky only chuckles, hearty and gruff, at your warning. “Whatever you say.”

You really like the way he says it. It sounds stupid, but you do.

He leads the way to the training room, turning every now and then to make sure you’re still following—and that you don’t stub your toe again.

“Turning the lights on.” Bucky warns you just seconds before the lights blare your vision, making you wince and blink against the onslaught.

When you can finally make out the shapes moving around, Bucky is already standing in the middle of the mat, watching you with his signature smirk. You can’t help but give him a small closed lip smile of your own as you make your way towards him.

“I’m totally gonna kick your ass.” You tease with a slight slur.

He grunts, face squished as he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to be here, Barnes.” You chide as you start to wrap your knuckles. “You’re the one who suggested this.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta be a turtle about it.”

You give him the best glare you can muster as he struggles to hold in his laughter. Your grimace deepens when they finally escape, and his face is really fucking adorable when he laughs like this; without a care in the world. That makes you stare at him longer than necessary as he recovers.

“Okay I’m sorry!” He gasps, putting his hand up. “I’ll stop, I swear it.”

The scowl doesn’t disappear even as you start to adjust the strings on your sweatpants; tightening them. You know you look like a child right now with the way you’re stomping dramatically heavily towards the ex-assassin, but you’re too tired and slightly agitated to care.

“Alright,” he huffs. “Just come right at me and don’t hold back. Think you can handle that, doll?”

You smirk despite yourself and prepare a simple stance; attack. “Sure, ice bucket.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch from the playful tease. What he does is pat his chest with a closed knuckle and says, “I’m waiting.”

You watch him, take in his posture and immediately go for the legs. You’re a good agent, not the best, definitely in need of improvement, but you’re good. What you’re sort of forgetting here, a habit with him it seems, is that he is. in fact, a super soldier.

The air leaves your lungs with an oof as you land flat on your back. His hand, warm flesh that feels like is scorching your skin through your shirt, holds you down by your upper chest. You blink dumbly up at him as you struggle to catch your breath, your body jolted from its heavy, sleepless form.

“C’mon,” he says your name disappointingly. “You know better than that.”

You roll your eyes and grunt, swatting his hand away and standing yourself up. “I don’t see the point of this.” You complain. “If anything, I feel more awake than tired.”

“Oh you know what the point is.” Bucky scoffs. “Stop complaining and fight me.”

“Fine!” You growl.

The next charge at him, you honestly thought that you’d get the upper hand. Where he goes to block, you quickly change course and go for a punch. It all happens in a blink of an eye, and suddenly his metal arm is wrapped loosely around your neck in a lock, the other locking your wrists in his wide grip.

“You’re not even trying.” He breathes in your ear.

“I am.” You say through gritted teeth.

He finally lets you go with a small chuckle. It makes you angry. “If you’re just going to keep laughing at me then I’m—”

Bucky lunges at you. Your body reacts on instinct and ducks away from his attack, bouncing on your feet to the other side. The muscles in his back strain as he runs his fingers through his hair, flashing you a grin as he turns around.

“There ya ‘re.” His brooklyn accent runs thick through his praise.

That praise—and it’s not like you’ve never heard it from him before, always in playful banter—raises goosebumps and there’s no way he doesn’t notice it. You fight the rush of blood flooding to your cheeks.

“Here,” you try, bouncing around him and playfully trying to grab him, distracting yourself from your own confusing thoughts. “Just stand still and let me punch and kick at you until I pass out.”

He laughs with you and dodges your weak attempts with liquid ease. “Oh I’m sure you’d love that.”

“I would, actually.”

“You’re jus’ bein’ a sore loser.”

“So what—” You grunt as he slides to his right and pushes your hit lightly away from him. “—if I am.”

You do this for some time, aimlessly throwing weak kicks at his shins as he teases you—you’re really fucking jealous at how he seemingly floats with each bounce to his dodges. You finally manage to knip him around the ankle, causing him to wince and curse.

“Ha!” You cheer. “I bet that hur—”

Bucky takes your short moment of victory to sweep around you and kick your legs out from under you. You land ungracefully yet again on the hard mat, but this time you quickly recover and loop your legs around the arm closest to you and pull him down with all your strength. He flips hard on his back, gasping as soon as he makes contact and now you’re the one laughing at him as you have the upper hand.

“Well Barnes,” you tsk. “Looks like you’re losing your touch.”

“Don’t get cocky.” He warns as his hand flexes still in your grip. “Or else this happens.”

You blink and feel a harsh tug at the back of your neck. Everything is a blur as you feel yourself being lifted and flipped into the air, like you weigh nothing at all. Your eyes automatically shut and your body awaits for the hard impact.

It doesn’t come.

Bucky softens your fall by quickly rolling his body into yours and wrapping his arms around you, practically caging you in. Your hands reach for the first solid thing they can find, which happens to be soft skin and hard muscle. His legs cage yours between his, his hair lightly curled and there’s a strangled noise coming from somewhere and holy fuck he’s—

“You alright?” He asks, panting.

Your breaths mix together as you stare into each other’s eyes. You hear what he says, the words playing through your ears but your brain doesn’t register the nerves to actually respond to him. It feels like you’ve never been this close to him before, not like this anyway. It feels… suffocating. In such a good, intoxicating way that you don’t want him to move.

And then you realize that the reason why he must be asking that question is because he thinks you’re hurt; that strangled cry was from you.

He shifts, just slightly to adjust, that gets his arms to tighten around you for a split second. Your jaw clenches as you struggle to hide the hitch in your breath and the pool of arousal flooding between your legs.

“Y-yeah.” You finally answer, swallowing thickly. His adam’s apple bobs as he does the same, and that gets your body tingling with a familiar sensation that has your eyes widening. “I think I’m tired now.”

The second those words escape your lips you want to take them back. His eyes fall as he shakes his head and chuckles, looking shyly down as he sighs. He unwraps himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. It takes you a moment, still reeling from—well from whatever the hell that was.

Now it feels awkward. You both can’t keep your eyes on each other, looking anywhere’s else like it’s fucking interesting. You gotta stop this.

“Than—”

“Can I—”

You both say at the same time. Bucky’s soft, harmonic—in your very humble opinion—chuckle joins yours and you shake your head to clear away the fuzziness clouding your brain.

“Sorry, uh what were you going to say?”

Bucky hesitates, and there’s something in his eyes that tells you that he’s nervous. It worries you, and instinct takes over to walk to him and comfort him.

“No it’s—,” he inhales sharply. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow, when you’re more…awake.”

“I’m plenty coherent, Bucky.” You scoff. “Just tell me. I’m your friend.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; it goes without the same brightness that usually greets you and that makes your stomach drop and your heart clench with an uncomfortable grip.

“I know.” He says softly. Then his eyebrow raises in a mischievous arch. “Need me to walk you to your room?”

This time it’s you who hesitates. On any other circumstance, you would’ve immediately said yes and that would be that; no awkwardness, no tension or—or whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you.

“Um… yeah. Yeah s-sure.”

You curse yourself mentally and berate yourself to keep it together. The walk back is quicker than the walk to the training room, and a part of you is entirely grateful for it. Bucky stays close as he paddles softly through the hall until your door is in sight, and you’re standing with one hand on the handle while chewing on your bottom lip. Now what?

“Goodnight,” he says your name softly, so softly you can barely hear him.

“Goodnight Buck.” You whisper back.

He gives you one last smile and walks away, and as simple and normal as this is, it feels wrong. Like he shouldn’t be walking away, because there’s something obviously going on between the two of you and you have no idea how—well, you know one way—to fix it because you’re a goddamn coward and that smile isn’t the same smile he gives you.

You lean against your bedroom door as it shuts. Your eyes sting with unshed tears and the aching pressure between your legs is long gone, but the evidence of it sticks to your panties. Ignoring it, you hop onto your bed and fling yourself against your lush pillows, and the rest of the morning is spent with you staring at the tv screen overthinking every interaction you ever had with the man responsible for your turmoil, and fall asleep with frustration seeping through your veins.

When you come to, early afternoon you think, the ache in your pussy is too much to ignore and you cum with Bucky’s name a sigh from your ecstasy. It’s the first time you do.

–

“You look…better.”

“Thank you.”

“So what was the trick?”

I masturbated thinking about my best friend. “Training. With Bucky.”

That gets her eyebrows rising up as she ahhh’s at you. “How are things between the two of you?”

“Good.” You feign. “Really good, actually.”

“Mhmmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just fuck already.”

“Wanda—”

“Seriously, I’m getting pretty sick of watching you mope around like this. You’ve got to talk to him.”

You sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the couch cushion. “I know.” You groan. “It’s just—I don’t know how, you know? I mean, what if this ruins our entire friendship? I can’t…I can’t live with that.”

Wanda purses her lips and rubs your shoulder comfortably. “I know,” she coos. “But don’t think you’ll feel better getting it off your chest? How do you know that he doesn’t feel the same way?”

A pause. “No.” Yes. Another pause. “And no.” One more. “How did this happen?”

She understands what you mean when you say it in a whine. She opens her mouth and is about to reply when—

“Did what happen?”

You freeze, eyes going wide as Wanda stares back in equal horror; you also detect the glint in her green eyes that spells nothing but trouble for you.

“She just agreed to have a movie night with Vis and I. My pick, which she’s still sulking about.” She throws in, so casually that you’re kind of surprised and impressed. “We were just talking about asking you to join us.”

You should’ve seen this coming. Really, you should have. It pisses you off.

‘Calm down.’ Her voice whispers in your head, a skill she’s been working on. ‘I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.’

“Yeah?” Bucky says, all rich honey. “When?”

You roll your lips and force a smirk as you turn towards him. “Tonight, around nine.” If she was going to force you into this and pick the movie, you wanted to at least have some control over this situation.

His eyes meet yours and the crinkles around them washes away the annoyance that was starting to build. He nods while shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and grins towards Wanda.

“Alright. Pick a good movie, would ya?”

Wanda laughs. “I will!”

Your fingers twinkle in a wave as Bucky awkwardly waves back. Once you’re sure he’s gone and out of earshot, you nudge Wanda’s leg with your foot. “What the hell was that?” You hiss.

“Oh hush,” she clicks her tongue. “I just gave you an opportunity, and who knows maybe something good will happen, and you’ll be thanking me after you fuc—”

“Alright alright I get it!” You stop her, a part of you still scared that anyone will just waltz in and hear. “I’ll stop complaining under one condition.”

“Okay.” She says suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

“I get to pick the movie.”

—

Your legs hurt.

Curled up crookedly under your blanket, back at an awkward angle as you stare at the moving faces and listen to the screams as they run through the forest.

The Blair Witch Project has always been one of your favorites, and you figure there’s no sex, no nudity, nothing that could put you in a weird position with the man you can’t stop thinking about sitting right next to you on the plushy loveseat. Yeah, why not?

But of course, Wanda had to be Wanda, and insisted that the two of you lounge on the small couch while her and Vision take over the other, bigger one. As if they needed the space.

Bucky, although, doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort, and if he does he’s kept quiet about it. He seems just as stiff as you are, but more relaxed and attentive.

It’s been almost an hour of this.

There’s a little giggle from the couple to your left, and when you look over you see Wanda putting her finger to her lips, shushing Vision as she holds in more of her laughter.

Glad she’s having fun.

Stop it. You’re doing this to yourself.

You let out a soft sigh and shuffle to your right, closer to Buck as you gingerly uncurl your legs and sit them criss cross. Much better. You can pay attention to the movie better now that you’re more comfortable, so lost in the panic on the screen that you don’t hear him move but rather feel the brush of his thigh against your knee.

Once you realize it you decide to ignore the onslaught of the electric shock rushing through your core—it’s embarrassing that a touch of his leg of all things gets you going.

Bang!

You gasp and jump, gripping onto the first thing your flying hands find. It happens to be Bucky, naturally.

“Sorry!” Wanda whispers yells.

You roll your eyes with a loud, annoyed sigh and settle back into the loveseat. Your hands still grip onto his bicep, and it’s his subtle clear of the throat that brings your attention to it.

“Sorry.” You flinch and let go of him.

“It’s okay.” He sounds off, a little dejected.

You’re about to over analyze it—because that’s what you do best—when Bucky scooches closer to you and hands his arm up to rest on the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers barely reaching your shoulder. Willing yourself to relax and focus, you don’t notice the side glances he’s throwing you or the hushed whispers of your friend, who is no longer paying attention to the movie at all, but rather at you and Bucky.

“We’re gonna turn in.” Wanda announces.

Your mouth opens in a small o as you stare at her in disbelief. “Are you sure?” It’s hard to hide the plea. “It’s almost at the end!”

Vision gives you an apologetic shrug and mouths ‘sorry’ as Wanda drags him away by his hand. “Yeah, we’re sure. Don’t have too much fun without me!” Her accent thrums with pure tease and you can only blubber like an idiot while watching them disappear to their room.

“Well,” Bucky sighs and shifts lower until he’s more comfortable. “Just us.”

“Hm.”

You don’t mean to sound so annoyed. You can tell it hurts his feelings because his arm moves back to his side, effectively putting more space between you. Your heart clenches at the fact that you’re the one doing this, no one else, and seeing him now, eyebrows furrowed and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as his leg starts to bounce anxiously, makes you feel even worse.

“I think I’m going to bed, too.” Bucky says.

He stands up before you can say something, though you’re not exactly sure what you want to say to him; there’s so much and your brain is in too much of a scramble of self wallowing and fear that it’s hard to put them coherently together.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t say your name, or give you your smile. An awkward wave and heavy steps is all you get, and when they become more faint do you curse yourself and fight the stupid tears clogging your throat as you sit there in the dark.

–

It’s been a week since that night.

Wanda, much to your relief, has left you alone about Bucky, but you know with every look when he enters the room that she’s still thinking about it; still scolding you for not taking the leap of faith into what could lead to so much more. To be honest, you don’t blame her; you’d be doing the same if you knew she’d be happy.

This time it’s so bad that the rest of the team starts to notice yours and Bucky’s sudden thrift. Steve, bless him, has been the most frequent next to Wanda.

“You know you can tell me anything Buck,” Steve’s voice rang through the empty room.

This was the night after the movie incident. Restless once again, you decided to punch out your feelings and frustrations at two in the morning with the hope that you would be alone. You almost walked in on them, not paying attention, when you heard him.

“I know.” Bucky said. “But I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing there.”

Your heart leapt in your chest and your stomach dropped. Somehow, you knew they were talking about you.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked; you imagine he did so while crossing his arms.

A bang, followed by a grunt. “Nothing. Just as I said it.”

A stab deep in your heart with a jagged edge made your knees nearly buckle.

“Buck—“

“Listen punk,” Bucky interrupted. “I know you’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it, but I don’t want to…I want—“

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” FRIDAY interjects robotically. “But I’m afraid Rogers has a call waiting for him and it’s very urgent.”

You heard Steve sigh and something moved or fell, but you hurried away before you could get caught.

Ever since, you can’t get those words out of your head. They play over and over like a broken record, chasing you to insanity.

Why oh why did FRIDAY have to say something?

It was like a sign from the universe itself. Whether it was good or bad, you weren’t quite sure yet.

Tonight is a particularly warm night, which you’re not complaining about, especially with Stark’s AC. It looks to be another night of staring blankly into space until you get tired of that; covers thrown haphazardly across the room, cool air breezing against your bare skin, a new set of dark bags under your eyes brewing. A typical night for you.

This time you debate on whether you should move. It’s getting old, just sitting here but you’re too afraid of running into—well into anyone at this point. You just don’t think you have the energy for it.

So you decide on sitting by your window and watching the cars drive by, lights flashing through the busy city. Count the stars that barely shine through in the dark sky, too many city lights blocking out the natural brightness. Finally, after several long and agonizing minutes, you throw on a pair of shorts and quietly open the door, peering at the hallways to the best of your ability without any light with ears straining to detect any type of sound no matter big or small, and once you’re satisfied that you’re alone you close the door and blink.

Where to this time?

You could try the training room again, but the last time makes you hold out on that. The living room maybe? Kitchen? Game room?

Suddenly it hits you, and you want to wack yourself on the head for not thinking of this sooner. Quickly tiptoeing back to your room, you grab the fluffiest blanket you own and wrap it around yourself.

You usually prefer taking the elevator up, too lazy for the stairs, but it’s too late for that so, stairs it is. Thankfully, it’s not that many flights and when the first breeze of fresh, cool air hits your skin you immediately sigh and inhale deeply. The night is filled with miscellaneous noises of the common city, but after being here for so long you’re more than used to it. You can see the moon now, hiding behind slivers of a dark cloud, and to your right a gruff,

“What’re you doing up here?”

It’s not unwelcoming, just a question out of curiosity. You turn to him, shocked to find him up here.

“Uh.” You drawl, mouth hanging open as you think of something to say. “Well—well I…” Why is this so hard?

“Why are you up here?” You ask instead, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

Bucky shifts in the lawn chair—a cheap brand that creaks a little under his weight—and offers you a timid smile. “Don’t you remember?”

You shuffle through your memories, trying to understand the meaning behind his question. He’s patient with you, even shuffling deeper into his stance as you stare quizzically at him. What the fuc––oh. Oh you know what he’s talking about now.

“Oh Jesus Bucky I’m––” you run a palm over your face in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to say sorry for,” he assures you.

But you do. You do because he’s your friend, one of your best friends even, and with all of this going on, he deserves to have a good friend.

So it makes you feel terrible that you forgot the quite frankly huge significance of this roof, and even more specifically the very spot he’s sitting in right now; this is where he goes when he has nightmares. When he wants to be alone. This is where your friendship started.

You had snuck up to the roof in the middle of one of Tony’s parties, clad in a simple short blue dress and an armful of drinks and snacks for yourself.

It wasn’t that you weren’t having fun, you were never one to turn down a good party. But that night you had just wanted a little alone time, and the roof was one of your sanctums of escape from the world and its responsibilities.

Balancing everything awkwardly and praying that you wouldn’t have to bend down and pick any of them up, you finally twisted and pushed the door unceremoniously.

It should’ve banged against something with the amount of force you excurted—out of pure annoyance—but instead it was stopped by flashy, shiny fingers, curled against the rim of the door with quiet clicks.

“Fuck!” You gasped. “I’m sorry, didn’t know anyone was up here.”

Bucky stared down at you wearily, eyes full of surprise and wonder as he eyed you up and down, particularly taking in the overflowing variousity of items in your arms.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just needed…to get away for a moment.”

At this point you already knew how Bucky was with large crowds; you didn’t blame him for coming here, especially on warm summer nights such as this.

“Yeah,” you repeated. “Me too.” You looked down at your feet, shifting your weight. “Do you… would you like to join me?”

He froze. The blood to your cheeks was prominent, you could feel that from the heat of it. You shifted again, lifting a foot to help shove a box back into your arms.

“Okay.”

You smiled then, bright and toothy. “Here,” Bucky said, reaching for the snacks. “Let me get that.”

That night was filled with nothing but small talk and laughter, and it was one of the best nights of your life in a long, long time. From then on, you and Bucky grew closer and closer until you started to dream about riding his cock until he screamed your name and you started to push him away.

“Buck.” You sigh, shaking the perverted thoughts away.

“Just come here,” he says, reaching his hand out. “I want you to see something.”

You hesitate, but only for a split second before you find yourself walking towards him. His eyes, grey tonight, bare deep into yours like he’s trying to see into your soul; to figure you out, more likely.

Once you’re within hand’s reach he gently tugs at your blanket and your heart skips a beat at the sheer…domestically of such a minuscule motion. He tugs again, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the armrest.

“That chair is gonna break as soon as I sit on it.” You argue.

“It’s not,” he defends gently.

He still senses your hesitance and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Can I—?” He scrunches his eyebrows and carefully wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you to the left side of him. You let him guide your body until you’re half seated on his lap, legs practically curled over his thighs while his arm stays wrapped around you.

The heat from his body is searing, even through the extra layers of fluff you have on you. His breath ghosts over your cheek, casting a whiff of something sweet and minty on his breath. The hard, metal muscles dig into your back, although not uncomfortably, but enough for you to have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together at the thought of his arm tightening around you as he pounds into you—

“Look up.” He suddenly whispers in your ear, husky and deep. It causes a delectable shiver to run down your body and your pussy clenches around nothingness.

Keep it together.

Bucky must mistake it as you being cold because he pulls you tighter against him, which for you only makes it harder to control your thoughts. Your heart pounds and your ankles cross to try and relieve the increasing pressure growing in your pussy; thank goodness you brought your blanket out here.

You finally muster your eyes to follow his pointed finger and squint. “What am I looking at?”

He shifts a little more to the left. Closer to you. “There.”

You try to ignore the way his words literally hit your lips. A brush of his breath that feels like an imprint on your pink flesh and gets your mouth watering; you start to wonder what he tastes like.

“That?” You stick your hand out to the pointed stars.

“You know what that is?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you think. You’re not an expert in astronomy by no means, but you took a few classes back in the day, and somehow this piece of information resonates high and mighty in your memories.

“No.” You say before you can stop yourself.

He smiles again, that toothy smile that you love. “Cygnus. The swan, I believe. Mostly comes out during summer months and it forms this triangle,” he traces the stars. “See?”

And that is why you said no. The way he describes it, giddy and excited because he learned something new and he’s telling you…you hate yourself even more for the way you’ve been trying to avoid him.

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur.

Bucky hums in agreement. Your eyes scan for any more constellations, but you can feel him staring at you. You want to look down, your neck is even starting to strain from it, but you just…

He says your name. It comes out a whisper, and he sounds… scared. You slowly, very slowly, look down and find a swirl of gray and blue. Facing him like this makes you realize you’re closer to him than you thought; tilt your head a little down and you’d be kissing him.

As if he read your mind, he licks his lips and, unconscious or not, you start to lean forward.

This is it.

Bucky’s leaning up and holy shit you’re about to—

“Hey, lovebirds!”

The both of you jump and turn towards the intrusion, you with shock and Bucky, a murderous glare. Both his arms are around you, as if to shield you from the outsider.

“Emergency meeting.” Tony smirks. “I don’t like it either but,” he shrugs. “Duty calls. Let’s go.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches out of your peripheral vision, and you find yourself filled with the same agitation because fuck you were so fucking close.

“We should go.” You tell him, like it’s not obvious that the moment is already ruined.

“Yeah.” Bucky grits out.

You miss the safety of his arms as soon as you leave them.

–

This time you find him on purpose.

You start by going to his room. It’s late, but not too late this time. You knock softly against the door once, then twice and wait.

“Bucky?” You call out softly.

A sharp, defined meow answers you back from the otherside. You grin and give the knob a try, twisting it open slowly as you glance around the room.

“Buck?” You try again.

Alpine, Bucky’s white feline, greets you with a purr and rubs against your legs. You bend down with a coo and pick him up, scratching his head as he closes his eyes and continues to purr.

“Where’s your daddy?” You whisper to the cat.

He meows like he understands you, making you chuckle. The cool floor feels nice against your bare feet this time, a nice contrast to the heat flaring through the summer air. Alpine settles himself in your arms as you search for Bucky. Everything is quiet, no signs of anyone up and moving around, and you start to wonder if Bucky is up on that roof again when you walk by the kitchen. There’s a dark figure by the corner of your eye, but you don’t register it until Alpine starts squirming and you do a double take.

“Hey.” You put Alpine down.

Bucky nods at you and follows Alpine with his eyes as the cat rubs up against his owner, adding an arch to his spine.

“I was looking for you.” You explain when Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Hmm.” He hums nonchalantly.

You nod, because you don’t know what you want to say now that you have him and twindle your fingers together. This is… a lot harder than you expected it to be.

“Soo,” you start out. “How… are you?”

He shrugs. “‘M alright.”

Okay. You got that out of the way. Now let’s—

“Let’s go to my room.”

He’s whizzing past you before you can even blink, Alpine in tow. It takes you a moment before your muscles move and you’re following him. Your heart thuds wildly against your ribcage and you take a deep breath when his door comes into view.

Bucky has always been in a state between organized and messy. Most days you can’t even call it an organized mess, it’s more separate if you can make any sense of it. You’re reminded of this as soon as you walk in, stepping over a t-shirt and combat boots. “Sorry, sorry.” Bucky mumbles as he quickly ducks down to pick them up. The rest of his room is about the same, but it’s not too bad to make a big deal of.

“Can’t really sleep.” He offers an explanation.

“Ah.” You nod. “You got my problem now.”

He smirks mischievously and it shamefully sends a wave of blazing arousal through your body, ending at the pulsing ache quivering in need.

“It seems I do, doll.”

Is this—is this a double entendre? Is Bucky messing with you right now? Enjoying the way you’re trembling with a hold that’ll give everything away?

If so, he’s doing a fantastic job.

“So,” you clear the lodge in your throat. “S-so do you want to, uh, train? Like last time?” Okay, that might not be such a good idea—you won’t be able to control yourself then, you’re positive of it—but you genuinely do want to help him, so you’re willing to fight your animalistic pulses for the sake of your friend. No that—that doesn’t sound right. Just calling him your friend. Now, it’s leaving a distaste in your mouth.

He sits down on the edge of his bed—dark covers that match the aesthetics of his personality—and plants his elbows on his knees as he, dramatically you have to add, thinks thoughtfully with a slight pout to his perfect lips.

“Push ups.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Alright?”

“But I’m gonna need a little help.”

He leans forward, just a bit more, and—and maybe it’s just your uncontrollable imagination—his eyes are dark and blown wide.

Okay, your pussy is throbbing now, the pulse achingly worse in your clit. “O-okay.” You lick your dry lips.

His smirk widens and stretches to put his cup onto his nightstand, making his shirt pull up, showing you a sliver of chiseled abs on his toned stomach.

Holy fuck. You’re not going to make it.

Bucky catches your eye before he gets down on the carpet, the muscles in his back straining deliciously and mouth watering as he stretches his legs out and holds himself up by his palms.

“Sit on my back.”

“Wha—” You sputter with a slight giggle. “What just…just sit on you?”

“On my back, yes.” Bucky teases and glances up at you. “It’ll tire me out faster.”

It makes sense. Logically. And he does have more of an immunity than most. But you just can’t help but feel that this is part of a game of his, thinking of any and every way to torture you and watch you squirm in your helpless state.

You’re silent as you take short steps towards his crouched form and place a hand steadily on his broad shoulder. You check on his face, still as lucid and beautiful as ever, and carefully settle your weight atop his.

“Good?” You ask.

“Yes, so you can relax sweetheart.” He says without a strain. So you do as he says, sitting more comfortably on him and crossing your legs.

He bends his elbows and leans down, your fingers automatically gripping his shirt to gain more balance, and pushes himself back up at a steady pace, barely a noise coming from him. Each time he moves you feel his muscles stretch and tighten beneath you; you have to bite your lip to stop from digging your nails into his skin.

Alpine watches as Bucky continues the workout, all the while you’re sitting on him wondering just what you’re supposed to do other than sit here, anything to clear your head and appease the burning ache coursing through you.

“Say something.” He grunts.

“Like what?” You scoff despite yourself.

“I don’t know, talk about anything.” Up, down. A heavy breath. “Count for me then.”

“I don’t know how much you’ve done already.”

“Ten.” He answers immediately. Up. Down. “Eleven.” Up. Down. “Tw—“

“Twelve.” You interject with a mimicking tone. “Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…”

Up. Down. You highly doubt he’s even breaking a sweat right now as your body hobbles on the muscles of steel. Up. Down. A tick, sounds like from a watch, sounds lowly in the room, but to you it sounds like it’s echoing loudly through your ears. Up. Down. You need to tell him. Up. Down.

“Alp,” Bucky sighs annoyingly.

You look over and see the white glob bend its head down by Bucky’s wrist, and when Bucky leans down the cat boops his nose against his and sits.

“Oh no, c’mon.” Bucky complains. “Move.”

He tries to sweep Alpine away with one arm but you’re moving too, not holding on to him and when he leans most of his weight onto his left side, your body goes with it.

“Woah!” Your hands fly wildly as you attempt to grab onto something. That something happens to be soft and you mistake it for his shirt and pull.

“Hey—shitmhm!”

You freeze. He does too.

Did that…did that just happen?

The air is thick, so fucking thick, you’re not sure if you can breathe properly under the weight of it.

Now what the fuck do you say?

“Um are you—” you’re breathless, like you’ve been the one doing the push ups. “Are you okay?”

He still keeps his stance, Alpine long gone by now towards his bed most likely. You don’t care about that right now. All you can think about is how his arms flex as he keeps you up and how you can see his jaw tick; it shouldn’t turn you on, but that groan does nothing to help you as it echoes through the air silently.

“Buc—”

There’s a tug on your calf and suddenly the room is a blur. You feel yourself being pulled down and flipped onto your back, and again you brace yourself for impact but it’s—it’s just the soft carpet, and he’s leaning over you, legs between his now open ones with a dangerous look in his eyes that you can’t tear away from. A bead of sweat dribbles down the tip of his nose until it drips down onto your cheekbone, but that’s not even enough to break the spell you’re currently in. It breaks Bucky’s, however, because he curses and wipes the small line from your cheek and wipes the front of his face with an open palm.

You should say something. A word. Just something. He turns back to you and just…looks at you. And you look back. Breaths mix together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and there’s a battle waging in his mind, you can see that in his eyes; they’re barely recognizable now, no blue or gray.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes you a second to register what he said. It’s soft, so fucking quiet and gentle that it pierces straight through your heart. Your stomach erupts in nerves and your legs tighten together on their own accord, pussy fluttering at the question.

Bucky waits patiently, never once moving a muscle. You lick your lips and that’s when he moves, a flicker of his eyes and a part of his lips.

You don’t answer him with words. You don’t think you can trust your voice enough to. Don’t think at all, actually. Instead you nod and wait with baited breath as he nods back, leisurely, and starts to lean in. It’s tentative, careful but eager. You never take your eyes off his, only when you feel the soft press of his lips against yours do you indulge yourself.

The kiss starts off slow. Barely even a kiss, just lips against lips. You crane your neck up and back a little and press harder against him, making him moan softly in the back of his throat and shit that’s one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard; you need to hear more of it.

Sensing your eagerness, he presses back and kisses you like you’re sure he did back in the 40’s, slinging every gal and wooing them with just a wink of an eye. His tongue traces the outline of your bottom lip and you open your mouth with a gasp, inviting his curious tongue into your warm crevasse. He sighs at the taste of you, swirling his tongue with yours in a fight you know he’ll win. Your hands lift up and wrap around his shoulders, pushing him down on to you. He presses down on your knee and you spread your legs for him to settle in between.

“Why—” He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connected to your lips trailing along as you whine from the loss. “Why did we wait so long to do that?”

You giggle, deep and low and he joins in with his own, harmonizing perfectly. “I don’t know,” you say. “That’s sorta my fault, I guess. I just—” you look away shyly.

Bucky places two fingers underneath your chin, prompting you to look at him. “Didn’t want to risk our friendship.” He finishes for you.

You nod. Your chest feels lighter now, a new sense of…of an increasing, raw excitement growing inside you. He must feel the same way, too, because he swoops back in for another kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. Your arms flex as you hold him still, running your hand up the nape of his neck and into his locks, gripping a handful of it to stable yourself. Bucky moans again and drops his hips into yours, where you feel the hardening outline of his cock through his sweatpants, grinding purposefully against yours.

“Bucky,” you gasp, moaning when his lips trail down your jaw and stop at your neck.

“I’m so sorry we ever waited this long,” he groans into the skin, planting a kiss on your rapid pulse. “You’re so fucking beautiful, малышка.

You don’t understand much Russian, but Bucky has been trying to teach you on and off and this one you understand; babygirl.

“Fuck.” You moan. He sucks a mark on your neck and bites down on it, making you whine and arch your back into him. He pushes back down, and his cock feels impossibly harder and you know he can feel your hot, dripping cunt, too.

“Please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for. “I-I need…”

“What?” He asks sweetly. When you continue to sputter at him, he gives a hard thrust against your clothed cunt.

“A-ah fuck.” You keen.

“Tell me what you want.” He orders. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you. C’mon.”

It feels like you can’t breathe. He hasn’t even been inside you yet and you’re already on the edge, chest heaving and thighs quivering with the anticipation.

Bucky suddenly drops down to his forearms, leaving a searing kiss that has you whimpering for more. “Want me to taste you?” He whispers huskily. “Like I dreamed?” His hands slide under your shirt, skimming against your sides. Your breath catches, caught in your throat as your skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Kiss that pretty pussy of yours? Fuck you with my fingers? Get you alll—“ He palms your breasts and pinches your nipple; you bite down on your lip hard, indents digging sharply through the tender flesh. “—nice and wet for my thick, fat cock? Would you like that, doll?”

Would you like that? You’d fucking kill for it.

“Yes!” You moan loudly. “Oh please Bucky, please.”

Bucky loves to see you beg. His dick twitches in response in his pants and you dig your nails into his back.

“Okay baby,” he says against your open mouth. “Get on the bed for me, legs spread.”

You don’t hesitate as soon as he lifts off you. You crawl on the bed with shaky limbs and lay on your back on his pillow; it smells distinctly Bucky, filling your senses with fueled desire.

Bucky looks at you like you’re fucking treasure. Like you’re the sun, the moon, everything to him, and it makes you blush and flutter under the intensity of it. You hold your arms out with a slight pout.

“Please?”

He huffs a chuckle and reaches behind him to pull his shirt over his head. Your mouth waters at the beautiful specimen before you; you want to kiss the faint scars that littler his body. He pulls down his pants next but keeps his boxers on, the outline of his hard cock prominent and strained through the fabric; if it’s bothering him, he’s doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Bucky crawls towards you, slow and with a curve, like a predator capturing its prey. You reach out for him and grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you for a kiss. His lips, slightly chapped but otherwise soft, move against yours in perfect synchrony, as if your bodies are already so in tune with each other. He breaks the kiss, diving back to lick your top lip, and slides the palm of his hands back up under your shirt, this time pulling the fabric with him. You help him slide the shirt off and throw it casually across the room; your nipples perk under his wandering and trumpeting gaze.

“Fuck, doll,” he whispers.

Before you can react he leans down and envelopes your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the perky bud. You gasp and hold his head to your chest while his hands grip down on your hips, hard enough to where you know there’s going to be bruises. He bites down on the bud, causing you to roll your hips against his and your toes to curl.

“Bucky.” You whisper, just because he’s all you can see and feel and smell…

He lets go of your breast with a pop and trails his kisses down the valley between your breasts and to your stomach, stopping at the pant line.

“Yes.” You say before he can ask. “Please, Bucky. I need you to touch me.”

“I already am, sweetheart.” He replies innocently.

You don’t want to argue right now. “James.”

He laughs and dips his fingers inside the waistband, the cool metal making you shiver. “You know,” he says as he drags your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace. “I kinda like it when you say my name like that.”

You chuckle, but it comes out weird and without much air. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He bites your hip bone, making your hips jump and your pussy clench. “James.”

Keeping your eyes on him—somehow, you know that he wants you to keep watching him—Bucky licks the very same spot he just bit and catches his teeth on the lining of your panties, pulling back and tugging at the flimsy fabric. The act alone almost makes you cum.

You moan lowly and lift your hips to help him pull them down your legs, kicking them off once they’re at your ankles.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your pussy; if it weren’t for his broad shoulders, you would’ve closed your legs to relieve the pressure. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. Did I do that to you?”

You swallow and open your mouth, but no words come out. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, cut off from oxygen. Bucky grimaces and slaps your thigh with his flesh hand, making you cry out.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes.” You stutter. “Fuck, Bucky yes, only you.”

He grins and kisses the top of your pubic mound, gripping your thighs tighter and scooching closer to the bed. “Gonna taste you.” He whispers, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than you.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, waiting for him. You think he might slap you again if you continue moving, so you will yourself to relax and…and wait. Because he can’t stop fucking staring at you, and kissing everywhere but where you want him the most and it’s so frustrating you’re going to cry.

“Pl-EASE!”

His hot, wet tongue slides up the strip of your folds and settles around your clit, circling the sensitive bundle. You preen into his mouth and clutch at the bedsheets, already writhing against him. He immediately throws an arm—his right one—over your lower stomach and pins your hips down, preventing you from moving an inch away or towards him; you’re completely under his will.

Bucky explores the velvety slit of your pussy, humming all the while like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The groans that are escaping you doesn’t sound like you, doesn’t feel like they’re coming from you, but they are and it finally catches up to you—James Buchannon Barnes, your friend, best friend, your co-worker, is eating your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

“Oh fu—” He nips carefully at your clit. You can’t focus. Not on your words, your surroundings, nothing but Bucky and the sensations he’s bring you. Every lick and suck on your pussy has you keening into his unbreakable hold, whining and clutching the sheets until you’re sure you’re going to tear right through them. This is too much, way too fucking much but you’re so close, so desperate for him, that you’ll—

He slurps lewdly and loudly, making you throw your head back and choke on a moan. “Bu-Bucky I—I need…”

He pulls back just slightly enough to say, “I know.” And he shifts, getting ready to switch arms.

No. Oh no no no no.

Your hand darts out and stops him. Gulping, you wordlessly place his flesh arm back on your stomach and reach for his metal fingers. Bucky’s eyes widen as soon as he figures it out and stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head.

“R-really?” He asks indubely. “You want me to—Jesus baby you—fuck.”

“Please.” You whine. “I can take it.”

He—he snarls and buries his face back into your weeping pussy, attaching his lips around your clit. You gurgle out a low curse and feel his cold fingers prod at your gaping entrance.

“You sure?” He asks cautiously.

“If you don’t I will literally—OH!” One thick, wide finger breaches through your hole and slides into your cunt with ease, curling as soon as he’s knuckle deep. Your body spasms, like you’ve just been electrocuted, and your fingers curl in his hair.

“Taste fucking delicious,” he begins to babble. “Sweet like candy. Nevr’ gonna get enough of it, doll, never.” He pumps his finger in and out of you, curling each time he slides back in, brushing up against your sweet spot. After a few pumps, he dips another in, stretching you.

“Bucky I’m—” The coil in your lower stomach tightens, your pussy fluttering against his fingers painfully, but in a way that’s everything pleasurable. “Oh fuck I’m gonna c-cum.”

His lips are around your clit again, fingers pumping faster now to the point where you can hear the squelches from your cunt, and without any warning he sucks. Hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” It comes out of you without preamble, mindless babbling that doesn’t even make sense at all. Your thighs cage his head, shaking and quivering as your orgasm approaches. “I’m g-go-gonna—” Your pussy clenches harshly around his thick digits and you’re gone. White flashes behind your eyelids, a numbness searing through your entire core as you shake and gush around his fingers, and a strange sound emanates through the room again; you don’t have to question who it is.

Bucky works you through your release, moaning and lapping at everything you have to give him. Eventually you come down when it becomes too painful to bear and you push his head away from you. Giving your clit one last kiss that makes you whimper, he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking down at you all the matter.

“You did so good, baby.” He praises you; you shutter, legs jumping slightly as your body flexes. “Gonna let me fuck you? Huh, babygirl?”

You’ll let this man do anything to you. Your limbs feel like jello, but find enough strength to keep your legs open and open your arms invitingly to him. He makes a show of pulling his boxers down, your eyes following the patch of dark hair and bulges at the long, thick cock that slaps against the hard plains of his stomach, precum smearing from the red angry tip. Next time—and you really fucking hope there will be a next time—you’re going to put him in your mouth.

“Like what you see?” There’s more of that cocky, playboy Bucky Barnes you’ve heard so much about.

“Yes.” You answer honestly. “Kiss me.”

The bed shifts slightly and creaks under his weight as he crawls towards you and locks his lips with yours; you can still taste yourself on his lips, sweet and tangly. The tip of his head brushes against your clit as he lays down on top of you, hot and smearing more of his precum across your stomach.

“Fuck me,” you moan into him.

Bucky groans lowly and you reach down to grab his cock; it’s hot, thick enough to where your fingers don’t reach and pulsing in your hand. “Shit.” He hisses, hips stuttering in your grasp.

Nex time, you’re going to tease him, too; give him a piece of his own medicine. You would now, but this has been a long time coming and you’re tired of waiting, so you line him up at your entrance and keep your hand on him as he slowly pushes in.

He moans your name the same time you moan his, looking down to watch himself sink into your warm depths. He stops when he’s balls deep, and you feel so full that you’re positive the tip of him is about near your cervix.

“Bucky.” You wiggle beneath him. “Move.”

“I got you, princess.” He croaks. “I got you.”

Pushing himself down on his forearms, Bucky pulls out painfully slow, his dick already wet and slick with your juices, and pushes back in. You roll your hips into his thrusts, taking him deeper. Every single muscle in his body flexes under your touch as you wrap your arms around his back, rolling into you with perfect thrusts that hits a spot deep inside you. You're too wired, too engrossed with the fact that it’s him, that your still overly sensitive pussy clenches around his cock.

“Baby,” his voice presses sweet and deep in his throat as he gasps. “I’m not—fuck I’m sorry I-I’m not—”

“It’s okay.” You tell him breathlessly, pressing your forehead against his and giving his lips a quick peck. “Just fuck me, Bucky. Use me, like I’ve dreamed of.”

Bucky chokes, eyes wild and neck red, and pulls almost all the way out until the tip is barely in and thrusts back in harshly. You cry out and dig your nails into his bare skin, leaving angry marks in their wake. He grabs your leg and hitches it over his hip, bringing his arm back down to wrap around you.

“You ever touch yourself thinking about me, doll?” He grits. “Huh? Have you?”

How—oh Jesus fuck how are you supposed to answer that when he’s fucking you so deep that you can barely remember your own name. Your pussy clenches in answer to what he already knows, and that gets him to grind down at you; the curls of his hair brush heavenly against your clit. “Yeah, you have, haven’t you?”

Pleasure rips through as his hips meet your harder and faster, the slap of skin against skin becoming louder and louder, as is your cries, but you don’t care if the whole fucking world hears you.

“You’re tight,” he gasps, closing his eyes. “How are you s-so fucking—fuck tight?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that, but the only thing you can do is bring him down to kiss you again, clashing teeth as you moan and cling to him. He breaks the kiss and buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. His arms slide back down to grope your ass cheeks and lift your lower half up to meet more of his heavy and hurried thrusts.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warns you in a moan.

You kiss his neck while your hand slides down his back to grope at his ass—as if you can push him even more deeper inside of you—and you lick his earlobe, tugging at the end with your teeth until he shivers.

“I want you to cum,” you whisper seductively in his ear. “Sergeant, please.”

Sergeant. Sergeant. You have no idea where it came from, but as soon as the words leave your mouth he growls and starts to plow you, fingers digging into your flesh as his hips snap into yours.

“Shit. Oh fuck babygirl I can—I can’t.” His rhythm falters, your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, trying to get his cock to say within you after each delicious drag against your walls. He whines—a pitiful, deep whine that resonates throughout the shocked nerves—and you can’t—

“I’m cumming.” You manage to break out. “B-buck—fuck.”

Your ankles cross around his waist, and it takes his teeth in your neck to have you cry out onto the ceiling as your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in and clenching until your muscles feel spent and sore.

“Oh God,” Bucky whimpers and it sends another wave through you, making him sputter and choke as his hips slam into you unevenly. “Shit shit, fuck.”

“Please baby.” You encourage softly. “Cum.”

He abruptly pulls out, your protest lodged in your throat as you feel the hot, thick ropes of cum spurt out onto your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck.” Bucky continues to gasp, his hand flying to his weeping cock and fisting it.

You moan as a few more land on your chest, painting your body with his pearly white cum; you know it’s over when he starts to slump. Without a second thought, he pushes back into you. “Bucky.” You can only say in slight confusion and pain.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I just—“ he winces as his hips connect with yours again. “—just wanna feel ya. Too good.” He slurs.

He kisses you then, slow and unhurried unlike earlier. This kiss says so much more in its language, lost in the dance of your lips. He trails his lips up to your forehead and places the softest and faintest of kisses there before settling on your chest.

You hum and rub his back soothingly. You’re both sweaty and sticky—Bucky doesn’t seem to mind this fact as he presses himself closer to you—and your body is satisfyingly numb and exhausted. Finally exhausted for what seems like ages.

Once the haze evaporates from your mind, questions start flying: what does this mean for you and Bucky now? When and how do you tell the others? What does this mean for missions? What does—?

“Stop thinking.” Bucky mumbles, voice covered by the breast he’s laid his head on. “Too loud.”

He’s right. This time, it can wait.

You smile and whisper an apology, snuggling deeper into the hug. You try to get comfortable, but the sticky evidence is drying uncomfortably on your skin.

“Bucky,” you sigh. “We gotta shower.”

You feel his nose squint. “Few more minutes.”

You fall asleep before those few minutes are up.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfic

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snowdice · 3 years

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 33]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. None edited chapters are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

Alright, here we go again!

Chapter 12

There was something off about his readings. Clearly the time distortion was starting to pull at this place with the way the weather was flickering between storming and sunny, but he still couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the source of it. He could, however, get that it must be somewhere on this side of the river more into the downtown area, so that’s the way he was walking, Pat close on his heels.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked.

Janus shot him a glare. “Elvis Presley,” he said.

Pat frowned, clearly knowing who that was. “There’s no reason to be mean.”

“You did it to me first.”

“…Introduced myself as a famous musician?” he asked. Janus didn’t respond, and after a moment, Pat laughed lightly. “You really don’t understand time travel, do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Janus said. “Name the three types of time distortions.”

“Just because I don’t know the names of things doesn’t mean I don’t understand them.” He stuck out his tongue. Janus was dealing with an actual toddler. “Unlike you who has a bunch of fancy words, but just caused a time loop.”

Janus scoffed. “I did not just cause a time loop.”

“Maybe not a big one,” Pat agreed, “but you did.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never introduced myself to you with a musician’s name, but now you’ve told me that I will. So, at some point in the future I will have to, thereby making you think to say that now. Time loop.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t count.”

“Does too,” Pat claimed. “Like I have said once before and you may or may not have heard me say before, anything you do to me to get back at me for something I haven’t done yet, just causes whatever that is to happen in the first place.”

“But you’re still going to do it.”

“Then take it up with future me. I haven’t done anything to you.” Then he paused and sighed. “…Which I guess means you’ve done nothing to me.” He seemed to mull this concept over for a long moment. “Well you were a bit crabby about me not knowing what a time distortion was, but I can forgive you for that.”

“And I’m supposed to forgive you?”

“Like I said,” Pat said. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You also haven’t done anything to endear yourself to me either,” Janus grumbled.

“Hmm,” Pat said. “Fine.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “You’re obviously not having much luck finding whatever you’re looking for. Tell me what it is and I’ll help.”

Janus squinted at what was in his hand. “Is that… an iPhone 5?”

“No!” he said. “It’s super-secret time travel tech disguised as an iPhone 5!”

“We’re in 2027,” Janus said. “Not a great disguise. Those things have been obsolete for a decade.”

“Well I’ll keep in mind to have my tech disguised as phones from the right year next time,” Pat said, sticking out his tongue. “Now what are we looking for?”

“If my timepiece can’t find it, I’m certain yours can’t.”

Pat rolled his eyes and tapped on the device’s screen a couple of times. “I’m going to guess it’s that,” he said proudly.

Janus leaned over to look at the screen. “Are you using google maps?” he sputtered.

“It integrates time relevant data like traffic conditions and local weather warnings with time travel technology,” Pat explained. “Something seems to be going on in a museum a couple of blocks that way.”

“I…” Janus said. That was actually a really good idea, usually unnecessary with scouts observing that data beforehand, and Janus wasn’t sure how good the accuracy would be considering whatever was taking it into account was automated, but still a good idea. “Well, I guess since we have no other leads, we can check it out.”

Pat looked far too proud for having only used a piece of tech that hadn’t even been confirmed as accurate. “Then, let’s go,” he said right as a chilly wind started to pick up and a couple of snowflakes began to fall around them. “Before that gets worse…”

Janus let Pat lead with his iPhone. Janus’s timepiece still wasn’t picking up a clear signal for some reason, but it seemed to point in the same general direction as Pat’s. Strangely though, as they got closer to their destination, the signal started to get fuzzier. Pat’s tech seemed unaffected leading them closer to the museum.

When they got to the Musée Fabre museum, Janus stopped. “What?” Pat asked. He was shivering slightly in the cold and holding his arms around himself.

“My timepiece stopped working completely,” he said.

“I’m assuming that’s weird?” Pat said.

“It is,” Janus confirmed, turning to squint at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not the one doing it?”

“If I was doing it, wouldn’t I have just knocked it out from the get go?” Pat questioned.

Janus pursed his lips. “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you have? Maybe it’s a trick.”

Pat’s eyes narrowed a bit on him. “Think what you want, but I’m freezing. Come in with me if you want.”

He dithered from a few moments before following Pat inside. Pat had already struck up a conversation with the woman charging admission into art museum. She was looking at him, her brow knit as he spoke. Janus nudged him away from her getting a confused glance from him in return. He shot a smile at the woman.

“Two adult passes for the museum and the Hotel Sabatier d’Espevran, please,” he said, placing down 14 euro.

“Ah,” she said, still looking at Pat oddly. “Yes sir.” She gave them the passes and Janus quickly shuffled Pat away.

“What is wrong with your French?” he hissed once they were out of earshot.

“What?” he asked, bewildered.

“You sound like you’re reading Le Comte de Monte-Cristo. No one talks like that anymore.”

“I’m a little rusty,” Pat defended himself.

“Two centuries?” Janus asked. Pat stuck his tongue out like a child once again. “Is that your only way to respond to legitimate criticism?”

“What does it even matter anyway? No one ever expects time travel, at least not for something so silly.”

“It’s not silly,” Janus said. “It’s a legitimate issue. The wrong person who’s watched too much science fiction notices and you’re putting the timeline at risk. Not to mention if there are other time travelers around that aren’t as nice as me.”

“Are there a lot of time travelers around?” Pat asked, sounding intrigued.

“There are plenty, both legal and not.”

“Huh,” he said, “but what are the chances we’ll run into another one?”

“Considering the time distortion? There could be many. Opportunists wanting to capitalize off the chaos, people trying to stop it, like me, and not to mention the person who caused it.”

“Wait, someone made it happen?” Pat asked.

“These things don’t just happen naturally.”

“Huh. So, something like this has to be caused by a person?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “…Why?”

Pat smiled. “No reason. I think we should head upstairs. Whatever I’m picking up says it’s around here, but I don’t see anything. Maybe it’s a floor or two above us.”

“Which is why it’s ridiculous to use Google Maps.”

“Would you rather use yours?” he asked sweetly.

“I’m still not convinced it’s not your doing,” Janus growled. “Why does your tech still work when mine doesn’t?”

“Probably the same reason the ring did,” he muttered.

“What?”

“You may be the most aggravating being in the universe.”

Pat glanced at him with a bit of a smirk. “I can’t tell you,” he said. “It would be a much bigger risk to the timeline than me speaking in French from the 1830s. But, I’m pretty sure the reason mine still works is just a software difference.”

“What the hell do you mean a software difference?”

Pat opened his mouth, doubtlessly to supply him with yet another frustratingly cheeky and unhelpful answer. Yet, Pat did not have a chance to do so as, just as Janus stepped onto the second floor of the museum, the ground started to violently shake. Janus tried to turn to catch Pat as the other man’s foot slipped on the last step, but he couldn’t do so in time. Pat fell onto his hands and knees, sliding back a few steps and smacking his face into the stairs hard once and then a couple of times more after that as he slid.

Chapter 13

The room stopped shaking after a moment. “Ow,” Pat said. He seemed a bit stunned but was still moving at least. He carefully maneuvered himself into a seating position. “Ouch. Owie.” He reached up to poke his own nose. “Ow!” Janus slapped his hand away when he got there. A bit of blood was already trickling from his nose and there was a small cut over his eye, but it wasn’t bleeding too much.

Janus pushed him so he was leaning slightly forward and produced a pack of time appropriate tissues from his pocket. He pulled one out of the package and offered it to him.

He took it and pressed it up against his nose to try to stop the bleeding. He seemed mostly alright though Janus imagined he’d have plenty of bruises down the line. The power in the museum flickered and Janus looked up. Now that he was listening, he could hear people panicking in and out of the museum.

“We should probably get off of the stairs,” he suggested.

“Yeah,” Pat agreed. Janus helped him to his feet, and they climbed back up the steps. Janus looked around and found an employees only sign a few feet away. Usually he’d not risk that as it could get him into trouble he didn’t want to be in, but considering the earthquake that had just happened, he could probably play it off as panic.

He ushered Pat into a small room and found a chair and table. He had Pat sit in the chair and pulled out another one of the tissues to dab at the blood coming from the cut over his eyes. “Here,” he said. “Hold that there. I’m going to go see if there are any bandages about.”

Pat took the tissue with the hand not already holding one to his nose. “Thanks,” he said.

Janus nodded and got to his feet. The lights flickered once again but didn’t stay off for now. He didn’t know how long that would last.

He couldn’t see anything that might hold bandages in this room, but there was a second door. “I’ll be right back,” he told Pat, exiting through it.

The lights flickered once more as the door closed behind him and he cursed. When they came back up Janus’s eyes immediately fell on a man. They both froze.

“Remus!” Janus hissed the second their eyes met. “What are you doing here?”

Remus blinked at him for a moment. “Hi. Janus,” he said. “I… come to France for… tea sometimes?”

“There isn’t any tea back here.”

“So, there isn’t…” he said. There was a moment of silence. “Uh, so I actually cannot talk to you right now.”

“What do you mean?” Janus asked. Remus grimaced in a way Janus had never seen from him before. It immediately set off alarm bells in Janus’s head. “Oh my god,” Janus said. “Oh my god. You’re not from the same time as me.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Remus mumbled.

“Holy shit, you’re looping?!”

“It’s… not looping if I wasn’t here the first time.”

“Remus, we spend more than 12 hours a day together most of the time. The only thing worse than this is if I looped back to this time myself.”

“…Yeah. Anyway, I need to leave now.”

“Please do.”

He turned to go, but then stopped. “Oh, and,” he reached into his pocket and tossed something at Janus. Janus caught it.

It was Band-Aids.

“Oh, shit,” Janus spat at the clear use of foreknowledge. “I hate this. I hate you. I’m going to kill you the next time you see me.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Go.”

He did, slipping into the next room while Janus took a deep breath and then turned back to the door behind him. He schooled his face before Pat looked up. “I found some Band-Aids.”

Pat nodded and Janus came over to squat next to him.

Janus opened the box and Pat looked down. His eyes lit up with sudden joy so intense that Janus felt like he’d just gotten a punch to the gut. “Kitty Band-Aids!” he exclaimed. Janus bothered to actually look at the design on the container, only to note the cartoon cats on the front. Pat was almost vibrating off his seat. “Look they’re all so cute!” He grabbed the container from him to inspect the different designs printed on the back with glee even as a bit of blood was still trickling from his nose.

Janus took the box back gently and guided the wad of bloody Kleenexes back to his nose.

“Which would you like?” Janus asked.

“Oh, they are all so cute,” Pat cooed. “Um, how about that one!” he pointed. “Or that one! Or that one!”

“Pat you only have one cut.”

“But they’re all so cute!” Pat said, tongue tucking into his cheek. He contemplated the box again. “Let’s do the black one,” he finally settled on.

Janus selected one of the Band-Aids with a black cat wrapped around a pink ball of yarn and staring back at them with wide green eyes. The think looked like it had partaken in one two many doses of catnip, but Janus didn’t mention that.

Instead, he just carefully unstuck the backing from the Band-Aid and motioned for Pat to remove the tissue from his forehead. He smiled at Janus as he drew back.

Janus cleared his throat. “How’s the nose.”

“It’s slowing down,” Pat replied. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Janus replied. They met eyes for a second before Pat looked away back at the box of Band-Aids.

“Oh,” Pat said. “There’s a grey one. I didn’t notice.” He pointed to it. “I should have used that one.”

“Do you like grey cats?” Janus asked.

“I like all kitties,” he said, “but one of my roommates loves grey cats. He had one when he was a kid and thinks of them as good omens. Seeing one always brightens up his day.”

“A friend of mine has a grey cat,” Janus said. “She’s much more tolerable than him.”

Pat laughed a bit. “Don’t be mean,” he said.

“Oh, he deserves it, don’t worry.” Janus considered him for a moment. “Here,” he said, pulling out one of the Band-Aids with the grey cat on it. It did, actually, look a lot like Diesel Fuel.

“But I don’t…”

Janus just shrugged and stuck it on his cheek where there was no wound. Pat giggled and touched it with a finger. Janus stood back up.

“Can I have another tissue?” Pat asked.

“Sure.” Janus handed a tissue over to him and he crumpled up the bloody ones in his hand.

“I think I’m good to keep going,” Pat said, putting the new tissue under his nose. “The nose will stop soon.”

Pat got out his iPhone and directed him back out of the room. They checked the second floor and didn’t find anything and so went to the third floor. The second they arrived in the room that Pat’s phone was directing them too, Janus knew that it must be right. There was a strange, distorted whirling sound and the entire room was shaking slightly like they were standing next to a railroad track.

“I’m guessing this is it,” Pat said.

Janus nodded and looked over his shoulder at the screen. They both cautiously walked towards where the little dot was on the phone.

“Is that it?” Pat asked, pointing at a small device on the center column in the room. Janus reached forward to flip the switch on it. The whirling stopped and the room settled. Janus’s time piece vibrated as it came back online. They waited for a few moments. “I assumed… time distortions would be more…”

“They are,” Janus said. “This one is artificial.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a simulation,” Janus said. “It causes similar symptoms to a time distortion, but it’s not actually fracturing time at all.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Pat asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said. He took the piece of tech of the wall and carefully stored it in his pocket, “but someone’s trying to get our attention.”

Chapter 14

Janus didn’t feel comfortable leaving France 2027 just yet, still weirded out by the strange turn of events. So, he and Pat ended up sticking around for a couple of hours. They looked through the art museum for a bit, but Janus was having trouble focusing on the pieces, and Pat eventually suggested they get some air. Janus agreed considering the museum would close for the night soon anyway.

They wandered around the downtown for a bit. The people seemed to jump back from the strange weather and earthquake that afternoon rather quickly, and there were plenty still about to blend into.

Pat was snapping photos every so often like a tourist which Janus shook his head at but allowed because even with the outdated phone it almost made them blend in even more. It also might stop any questions about Pat’s weird way of speaking French. They could just say he was an overeager tourist who watched too many old movies.

“Ooo!” Pat said. “We should get crepes.”

“Why?”

“You can’t go to France and not eat crepes.”

“I assure you, you can,” Janus said dryly.

Pat shot a pout at him and the next thing he knew he was in a small crepe shop.

For Janus, choosing something was easy. He just ordered the first thing he found on the menu which seemed to be a standard one with ham and eggs. Pat on the other hand seemed to be struggling greatly, and Janus had to gently push him to the side to let some other customers order first.

“What should I get!?” Pat asked. “They all look so good! I could do strawberry preserves or maple syrup or just sugar!”

“Or you could get one that is actually food,” Janus suggested mildly. “I don’t think you need any more sugar judging by how you are acting.”

Pat rolled his eyes. “You sound like Lo.”

Janus made a note of the name ‘Lo’ even though it surely was a nickname.

“But, since you’re insisting, I’ll get something healthy. I’ll have the strawberry one. That’s a fruit!”

“It comes with a cream cheese filling,” Janus pointed out.

“And it’s fruit!”

Janus shook his head and stepped up to the counter. “One ham and cheese and one strawberry preserve, please,” he said to the cashier as he was not allowing Pat to order in French and accidently say something stupid. He forked over some euros.

“You don’t have to pay for me,” Pat protested when he saw that.

Janus glanced back at him. “I was afraid you’d try to pay in francs,” he said dryly.

It looked like Pat was about to stick his tongue out at him, remembered that Janus had criticized him for that earlier, and then just scrunched up his face in displeasure as though that was any less childish.

They waited for their crepes to be finished and then went to eat them outside near a water fountain.

“I can pay you back for the crepe,” Pat said after they sat down. “I do actually have euros.”

Janus waved him off. “It wasn’t that expensive.”

Pat hummed. “Well, in that case. I insist on paying for a wish for you.” Janus raised an eyebrow. “In the fountain!” Pat clarified.

Pat set aside his crepe to dig in his pocket for a couple of coins. “Here!” he said handing one over.

Janus glanced over at the fountain. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Pat beseeched. “You have to want something. I’ll even throw it in for you, but you have to make a wish first!”

“No.”

“Please!”

Janus sighed. “Fine.” He popped the rest of his crepe in his mouth. “I wish for a crepe,” he said after swallowing.

“You just had a crepe, silly.”

“But I liked it, so I want another one.”

“We can go back and get you another crepe.”

“Ah, but I’m not hungry anymore.”

Pat crossed his arms. “You’re just being difficult on purpose.”

“Not me,” Janus said putting hand over his heart. “I would never do something like that.”

Pat glared at him, but then snatched the coin out of his hand. “Fine!” he said. “One crepe wish coming right up.” He hopped up with the two coins and darted over to the water fountain. Janus turned to watch him go but then happened to catch sight of something out of the corner of his eyes.

Pat’s phone.

He didn’t pause in his movement, completing the turn, but as he watched Pat close his eyes, presumably to focus on his own wish, Janus snuck a hand out and grabbed the phone without looking. He slipped it into his own pocket.

Pat came back over after throwing both coins in the fountain and didn’t even seem to notice that his phone was missing, picking up his crepe to take another bite. Just to make sure, though Janus decided to distract him. “What do you think of your crepe?” Janus asked.

“I like it! It’s sweet, but not too sweet. There was a crepe place across the street from my apartment in college, but they always put a bit too much sugar in the dough, I think. I’d still eat them, but these are much better.”

Janus nodded and kept up the light conversation until Pat was finished.

21088

“Well,” he said then, getting to his feet. “It seems that nothing else is going to happen regarding the time distortion. I should be getting back.”

Pat hummed. “I should too. It’s movie night!”

“I probably should arrest you,” Janus noted.

“In the middle of all of these people?” Pat asked mildly.

“Touché,” Janus said.

Pat gasped and pointed at him. “Pun!” he said. Janus blinked at him. “Because we’re in France! That’s French!”

“…Goodbye Pat,” Janus said, turning to walk away from him.

“Goodbye… wait I still don’t know your name!”

Janus stopped to look back at him for a moment. “Like I said,” he replied. “Elvis.”

“Fine,” Pat said. “Au revoir, mon chéri.”

“You never stop, do you?” Janus asked.

Pat giggled. “Considering I don’t know what you mean, I imagine I’m just getting started.”

Janus actually left then, walking off towards the alley he’d first arrived in. In some ways, the mission had been a bust, but in others it had gone very well.

He felt for the weight of the phone in his pocket before pulling up the display screen on his timepiece to go back to the TPI.

It had gone very well indeed.

Chapter 15

The first thing Janus had done when he’d returned to the TPI was hand over the timebomb to Khalid who sent it to forensics. Within the hour, forensics got back to them that it was the same timebomb as 2999 and that it had never exploded, but simply been diffused. Which meant, blessings on blessings, everyone got to go home that night.

Not that Janus went home, no, he ended up falling asleep on his desk somewhere between 3 and 4am, but at least he wasn’t sharing his space with anyone. He’d been trying to hack the cell phone all night to see if it had anything he could use, but he honestly had no idea what he was doing. All it seemed he could do was play some annoying song over and over again about never giving someone up. At around 2am, he’d finally broken and sent off an email, though, he’d continued to try to mess with it after that.

He got woken up by Lena coming into the office at 7am, and noticed he already had an email response asking when Janus wanted to come in.

“Now?” he sent back.

“…Do you sleep?” was the immediate response. “And yes.”

His wrist buzzed as an appointment in 5 seconds downloaded to his timepiece. He selected the coordinates and landed at Cultural Outreach. The receptionist blinked up at him and then back down at the screen on his desk. “Oh!” he said. “I didn’t see this appointment. I think Professor Eran is in his office.”

He didn’t stand to escort Janus this time, so Janus went ahead and went down the hall to Virgil’s office himself.

He knocked on the door and while he was waiting for Virgil to open it, the infernal contraption once again started to play the same stupid song.

“I didn’t even touch you!” he spat, getting it out and tapping on the screen.

“Jonas Brothers dude again?” Virgil asked causally upon opening the door.

Janus shoved it at him. “Make it stop.”

Virgil took it and fiddled with it for a few moments before it stopped with the song. “Oh my gosh,” he said scrolling through something on the screen.

“What.”

“What maniac sets a custom alarm for every 30-60 minutes for a week that just plays ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’? Oh, and one ‘It’s Not Unusual’ on Saturday. He’s mixing memes at an alarming rate.”

“Can you. Just. Make it not happen. Anymore?”

Virgil smirked at him. “Maybe.” He turned around to go back into his office.

“Virgil,” Janus growled following him in.

Virgil just laughed. “What do you want to know about it?” he asked. “Just a fair warning… the song means he… likely was aware someone would steal it.”

“Of course, he was,” Janus groaned.

“But I’m sure we can still get something out of it.” Virgil started tapping at the screen again. “Okay, let’s see. It’s an iPhone 5, and someone jailbroke it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tampered with it so they could install non-company approved software,” Virgil explained.

“Well I figured that since he was using Google Maps to track time distortions,” Janus grumbled.

“I think I have something,” Virgil said to himself while digging through his desk. “Ah ha!” He held up some sort of cord. “This will let me hook it up to my integrator.” He slotted the cord into the bottom of the iPhone and then crawled under his desk to fiddle around with some other things. “There we go,” Virgil said popping back up. “It might take a few minutes. Running the program any faster might overheat the phone.”

Janus nodded and sat back to wait. Virgil grabbed the phone and started to play around with it a bit even as it uploaded all of its information to his computer.

“Weird,” Virgil said after a moment.

“What?” Janus asked, sitting up straighter.

“There are exactly two contacts. Fewer than I’d anticipate for a regular phone from the 2010s. More than I would expect from one clearly not being used as a phone.

Virgil glanced to the side, and it must have finished the download because he unhooked it from the computer. “I have a 21st century phone network adapter,” Virgil said. “It transfers call back to whatever date the phone says. Do you want to try calling one?”

“It’s worth a shot,” Janus replied.

Virgil dug back into his desk for a small device that he plugged into the same port he’d plugged the earlier cord. “Okay, which contact do you want to try first?” he asked. “One has ‘Ro’ with a crown, red heart, and a gold star emoji. The other has “Lo” with a book, blue heart, and Milky Way emoji.”

“He mentioned a Lo,” Janus said. “So, try him first.”

Virgil nodded. “I’ll put it on speaker.” He pressed some buttons before setting the phone on the desk between them.

The phone rang three times before with a bit of a crackle, it was answered. “Salutations,” a voice said, voice sounding a bit scratchy as though he had only just gotten up.

Virgil motioned with his head for Janus to speak. “Are you ‘Lo’?” he asked.

The man hummed. “To some people.”

Janus… didn’t quite know what to say to that, or even what questions he should ask.

“I’m assuming you’re the man that stole my associate’s phone.”

“Your associate?” Janus fished.

The man made an amused hum. “I believe you were calling him ‘Pat’ on your last adventure.” Janus could hear something being placed down on the other end of the phone. Before Janus could respond, he heard what sounded like an old keyboard being typed on. “Now,” Lo said. “I have to admit, I am surprised you were willing to oblige me so thoroughly by plugging the phone into your system. Let’s see…”

The screen on Virgil’s lit up bright blue all of a sudden. “…shit,” said Virgil.

“Well,” Lo said, “it seems you were clever enough not to plug it into the TPI system, which is disappointing, but…”

There was more clicking on the other end. “Hmm, interesting music tastes for the 4000s,” he said.

“I’m an anthropologist,” Virgil spoke up.

“Ah, yes, I can see that,” Lo replied. “Virgil Eran, senior professor at Silver Mountain University, a vetted member of the Cultural Outreach program, and searched the phrase ‘How to eat sushi without making a cultural blunder and making everyone hate you and losing your job because what kind of shit anthropologist doesn’t know how to eat raw fish right’ which you then shortened to ‘How to eat sushi’ and proceeded to search 52 times in the last 48 hours.”

Virgil went a bit scarlet around the ears. “Dude, did you really have to out me like that?” he hissed at the phone.

“My apologies,” Lo responded. “From my personal experience, don’t dip the rice parts in soy sauce, and don’t add too much wasabi. Overall, most people will be understanding of mistakes, and you will certainly not be fired or ostracized for handling food incorrectly. As long as you are not acting intentionally disrespectful, and I image you will not be considering your clear anxiety over whatever outing you are planning to attend, you will be fine.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. “Good point, but counterpoint, what if you’re wrong and everyone hates me forever?”

“Is it the lunch meeting today at 11:30am?” Lo asked, “because I can see that a Professor Boris Laden has attended the event multiple years in a row. Considering he is a philosophy instructor, has no Japanese heritage that I can see, and I have found a photo of last year’s event wherein he has placed his chopsticks vertically in his rice, and he has yet to be fired or ostracized, I would postulate that your fears are unfounded.”

“Yeah but… okay, I really don’t have an argument for that one, except maybe I’m a piece of shit and everyone is looking for a reason to hate me.”

“Considering your many impressive accolades in your field, I would argue that ‘a piece of shit’ is not a good descriptor of you. Not to mention the fact that you are often a highly requested member for different committees in your department and outside of it.”

“Oh, but is that because people like me or because I’m an anxious mess and make sure events go off without a hitch?”

“From experience, disorder with people you enjoy the company of is far more tolerable than order with people you do not. Which explains my current living situation and the lack of finished dishes in my sink. Therefore, I would assume the former.”

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“A lot of assumptions,” Virgil commented, but he was smiling slightly.

“Assumptions based on data,” Lo argued back lightly.

“You really came in here, hacked into my computer and smacked my anxiety in the face, huh?”

“Glad to have helped.”

“Y-”

“Are the two of you finished?” Janus interrupted, finally getting sick of the two of them.

“Not nearly,” Lo said. “I have gained access to an entire network of a very large university and will be sorting through the data for a long time.”

“Ugh, right,” Virgil groaned, “and you got access through my integrator.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to trace it back to you if you don’t tell them.”

“Nice try,” Virgil said dryly, “but not likely. I’m telling them about you immediately so they can work to kick you out.”

Lo laughed. “Fair enough, but I’ve already gotten plenty of information at this point. Including the fact that you work with the TPI and scheduled an appointment with an Agent Janus Picani this morning set to start a few minutes before this phone call. So, hello Janus.”

“Bastard,” Janus shot back.

“And goodbye Professor Eran. It was a pleasure.” He hung up.

Virgil sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “This is going to be fun to explain to both of our bosses.”

Arc II What We Do to Each Other

Chapter 16:

As it would turn out, Janus and Virgil did not get in trouble for hooking up the old phone to Virgil’s integrator, mostly because it wasn’t really a mistake on their part. The phone cleared all virus checks that the tech people both from the university and the TPI ran on it. The phone should have been clean and should not have caused an issue.

In fact, they were still trying to pin down the code on the general university server. They could tell that something was mucking about on the system but what or how was a mystery. This also meant that there was no telling what information had been compromised and considering how many things Silver Mountain had its hands in, that was… a bit worrying.

Another worrying thing was there was suddenly more activity of late at the TPI. There were more time distortions popping up every day. Usually they would be few and far in between. There had been 3 total recorded the year before, but over 12 in the last week. Some of them were fake like the one Janus had investigated, but some of them were real. It painted a distressing picture and also was a drain on their resources. Khalid was actually looking to advertise positions to hire new recruits which was something she rarely did as she liked to keep appointments to the TPI in house.

They’d even loosed the number of field agents needed for each mission and Janus and Remus had been splitting up just to get everything done. Today, he and Remus had thankfully only two missions scheduled for the day.

“Are we going together or separate today?” Janus asked Remus.

“Think they’ll burn me at the stake for being a witch if I go alone to either of them?” Remus asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I think we’re getting a bit late into the 1700s for that in Cuba, but I have no idea about Mesopotamia.”

“Let’s just go together. I did not like almost drowning yesterday because I was the only stranger in town when the weather was going wonky.”

“Surely it isn’t because you opened your mouth. Ever.” Janus said dryly.

“How was I supposed to know he was the local clergyman’s son?”

Janus rolled his eyes. “On second thought,” he said, pushing a button on his desk to choose Cuba as he next mission, and standing up. “I don’t want you coming with me.” Yet, he did not protest when Remus also signed up for the Cuba mission and he waited for him by the office door before going to talk to Rhi.

Rhi was a bit frazzled when which meant quite a bit as she was usually incredibly put together. Remus didn’t even seem inclined to tease her today.

“Okay,” she said once they’d closed the door behind them. She flipped through some documents on her desk. “Picani and Clockson. Camaguey Cuba 1755. Do you know Cuba?”

“Uh,” Janus said. “Yeah?”

“Like you’re reading the things, right? I don’t have to babysit you, right? You got it? The Seven Year War was happening, but it won’t affect you much as it hasn’t really hit Cuba. It’s the middle of the Camaguey Carnival. Everyone will be everywhere and there will be chaos so as long as you don’t really fuck up you should be fine. Um…apparent races.” She looked up at them and studied them each for a moment as thought looking at them for the first time despite having known them for years. “It’ll work. Go to costuming.”

“Shouldn’t we…” Janus said, “sign things?”

“…Yep,” she said, fiddling with her desktop and then sending documents over to their side to sign.

Janus and Remus both did before sending them back.

“Great. Good.” She stood and grabbed some things from behind her. “You can go.” She sat back down as they took their things and Janus noticed a message pop up on her desk. She looked up at Remus looking exhausted. “What?” she asked.

“Just open it,” Remus said.

Rhi tapped it and a photo opened.

“I got her a new mouse toy!” Remus said happily as Rhi looked at the picture of Diesel Fuel attacking a cloth mouse.

“That is… appreciated Agent Clockson,” Rhi said. “Now get out.”

They did, leaving to get their costumes on and checked. Costuming was just as busy and frazzled as Rhi had been and they actually had to wait for decon because there’d been a mix up with the agents leaving before them. They landed in Cuba without issue. Janus could already hear the festival in full swing outside the small building they’d were in. Remy was standing there with a very not time appropriate mug of coffee.

“Sue me,” Remy said when Janus raised an eyebrow at it. “Please just… get in and out without causing trouble. Seriously. I don’t want to have to deal with that on top of everything else.”

“We’ll do our best,” Janus assured.

Remy pulled his sunglasses down to look at him. He looked exhausted. “God please do more than your best.”

Janus nodded tightly. “We’ll be in and out,” he said, already glancing at his timepiece. It had been disguised as a golden bracelet which made it a bit harder to actually use, but wrist watches wouldn’t be invented for more than a century, so they’d have to make do. “The time distortion, if that’s what it is, should be in the middle of town. Let’s go.”

He and Remus exited the building onto the packed city street.

Janus was immediately bombarded with all types of sights, sounds, and smells. There were many colorful articles of clothing and costumes as people went every which way along the street talking to other members of their community, playing instruments, and dancing. There was the sound of people speaking Spanish, still mostly almost pure Castilian Spanish with perhaps a bit of influence from Taino as the Haitian revolution had yet to push the Creole language over to Cuba. People must have been hard at work cooking different dishes for the carnival as many different spices wafted through the air. It was sticky hot considering it was the middle of June in the tropics and Janus was immediately sweating despite the temperature appropriate clothing he’d been outfitted with.

He glanced around their immediate area, just scoping out the crowds. His eyes were immediately drawn to one person near them.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said out loud when he saw Pat. Remus looked in the direction Janus was.

Even if Janus didn’t recognize him the moment he laid eyes on him, he probably still would have ended up staring as he was the only person in the area who clearly did not know how to do the dance he was attempting.

Remus snorted and Janus shook his head in secondhand embarrassment. “Well, would you look whose boyfriend’s here,” he said to Janus. Make that firsthand embarrassment. “Has anyone told him the Mambo wasn’t invented until the 1900s and also that’s not how you do it?”

Chapter 17

Pat stopped dancing the moment he saw Janus approaching him, but he still bobbed cheerfully ( and unrhythmically) to the music. “Hi Janus,” he said pleasantly.

“You just have to rub it in, huh?”

There was a flash of confusion across his face, but then he smiled. “Well, I know where in our relationship you are. How was France?”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You stole the phone,” he laughed.

“You stole the bomb,” Janus countered, “and you wanted me to steal the phone. You booby trapped it.”

“No,” Pat correct, putting a finger up. “We have security on my phone because in high school I once forgot it in the school locker room and long story short, the three of us ended up in a lake. So, then Lo made sure I always had some sort of tracker on it. When I started time traveling, he updated it and when I met you we updated it again in case there was ever an opportunity like that. Lo calls it using our weaknesses to our advantage.”

“He’s a bastard too,” Janus growled.

Pat just laughed.

“Is someone talking about me?” Remus asked, stepping over to them. Janus rolled his eyes.

“Oh,” Pat said, blinking at Janus’s partner for a moment. “Remus.” He hesitated slightly. “How are you doing?”

“Me?” Remus asked. “Uh, I’m doing good. A little stressed out with work, but fine.”

“Good,” Pat said with just a little too much heartfulness to it.

“What?” Janus asked, eyes narrowed at Pat. “What is that?”

“What is what?” Pat asked. He met Janus’s eyes briefly and it made panic surge up Janus’s spine because the look Pat was sending him wasn’t one that said he was playing dumb. It was a warning.

Oh, Janus did not like this. That look told Janus Pat had some foreknowledge that he absolutely could not tell Janus about without messing up the timeline spectacularly. This was why this mess the two of them were mixed up in was so bad, but it seemed Janus did not have much of a choice when it came to Pat.

Despite how bad of an idea he knew it was, he still wanted to push, because whatever Pat was hiding could be very, very bad and it had to do with Remus. There were so many reasons Pat could be acting like that around Remus, but the worst ones were definitely the ones on his mind. Death, injury, illness. They were all possible especially in their line of work and especially with how time was being screwed with right now. And Pat knew. He knew exactly what the answer was, and oh did Janus want to push.

Experience knowing what worse things could come out of having foreknowledge made Janus bite his tongue.

“So, what are you two doing here,” Pat asked, and Janus unhappily let him change the subject.

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Janus replied.

“I don’t know,” Pat said innocently.

“There’s another time distortion,” Janus said, “and while you didn’t know what it was the last time I saw you, I’m pretty sure you do now.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there was a time distortion here. I can help you if you like,” he offered sweetly.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see if I could find the Flying Dutchman,” Pat told him.

“And so you went to Camaguey?”

“Uh huh.”

“One of the farthest places from the ocean in Cuba?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t trust you.”

Pat just shrugged. “Well, if you don’t want my help finding the time distortion, I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” he said when Pat went to turn away. Pat paused. Janus turned to Remus. “Remus, do you think he’s bullshitting me so I let him wander off and do whatever the hell he’s doing, or do you think he’s bullshitting me into letting him come with us.”

“Hmm,” Remus said, looking Pat up and down. Janus could immediately tell he wasn’t going to get any helpful answer. “Well, if we’re going with the how much do I get to see his, admittedly very sexy, ass criteria.” Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Letting him leave now means instant gratification and a nice full image when he turns away. However, letting him go with us means many more opportunities to get a glimpse, but they’d probably just be glimpses. So, yeah that’s a tough call.”

“You didn’t even bother to give me an actual hidden suggestion with that bullshit,” Janus groaned. He glanced at Pat only to see him hiding his very red face in his hands. Janus blinked. “Oh,” he said. “You got him, Remus.” Janus was surprised. He’d expected a bit more tenacity for someone with Pat’s personality. Of course, Janus was used to Remus, so that perhaps had some effect. Pat made a muffled distressed sound behind his hands and Janus raised an eyebrow. “You really got him.”

Pat flapped one hand around while still using the other to completely hide his face. “It’s just. His face. Saying that. Is weird.”

Janus could not say that he didn’t feel a slight spark of joy at seeing Pat flustered. After all, Pat’s weapon of choice had often been flirting with Janus in the past. However, he still smacked Remus on the shoulder when it looked like he was about to continue with something likely far more inappropriate. “We are here for a reason,” he reminded. He turned to consider Pat and squinted at him. “You’re coming with us, I’ve decided. I don’t want to let you out of my sights. Don’t,” he said empathically turning to Remus as the man opened his mouth once more.

Pat had mostly recovered, though his cheeks were just a bit pink still. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Where do we start?”

Janus glanced at his timepiece. “It’s not showing up on our trackers yet.”

“It messed with your tracker last time,” Pat pointed out.

“I know,” Janus said. “Which means it could be another fake one or whatever is causing it hasn’t started yet. If things start going wrong, but it still doesn’t show on our radar, it’s almost certainly a fake one, but some of the fake ones haven’t blocked our technology.”

“Here, I can check,” Pat said.

“Please don’t pull out an iPhone,” Janus begged.

Pat stuck out his tongue at him, and then smiled. He reached for the bracelet on his wrist and twisted it back and forth a few times before pressing his palms together. He glanced around them quickly to make sure no one around them was watching and then peeled apart his palms like he was miming reading a book.

“What the fuck is that, and how do I get one?” Remus asked immediately. It was innocuous, whatever it was. If someone from this time caught a glimpse of the display, they’d likely assume it was a trick of the light, but staring right at it, Janus could tell it was a map of the surrounding areas with a softly glowing blue light marking their current location. Janus could see no screen or origin of a hologram. It looked like the image was drawn onto the man’s palms, but as he watched, the image shifted to zoom out.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything major yet,” Pat said wiggling his fingers a bit. The display changed slightly to some sort of colorful overlay Janus did not understand. Pat hummed. “Did you two come from that building recently?” he asked nodding at it.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “How do you know?”

“There’s sometimes a slight temperature change when people time travel,” Pat explained. “I can read it on here.” He tilted his head. “There also seems to be a big enough temperature change in a church a few blocks away that could indicate time travel. Want to check it out?”

“We might as well,” Janus agreed.

“And if it’s nothing, we can get drunk on the communion wine!”

“He’s going to get immediately struck by lightning,” Janus said.

Chapter 18

“If we see anyone,” Janus said as they entered the church. “You keep your mouth shut. Do you understand me? Remus, do you understand me?”

Remus immediately turned to Pat. “You know, I didn’t grow up Catholic,” he said to Pat who looked at him in confusion. “So the first time I ever entered a Catholic church, you can’t blame me for being a little confused about the whole cabinet thing with a wall between them. After all, everyone was singing about glory to god and what not. So I…”

Janus slapped him. “This is why you were almost burned at the stake yesterday.”

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“Excuse you,” Remus said, putting his hand over his heart. “I was almost drowned.”

“You were almost drowned?” Pat asked, his voice seeming legitimately distressed.

Remus shrugged a smile on his face that caused a Pavlovian migraine to start up behind Janus’s eyes. “It’s one of the hazards of the jobs, and really it would have all been worth it if I’d actually gotten to drown in that man’s…”

“We’re in a church!” Janus cut him off switching from Spanish to Swahili in the hopes that no random passersby would be able to understand him in this time and place. “Don’t talk about lewd sex things. Don’t talk about sex at all. It’s a Catholic church!”

Remus continued to speak in Spanish with no regard for anything. “But not talking about lewd sex things takes away 3/4ths of my personality,” he pouted.

“More like 9/10th,” Janus grumbled, “and the other 1/10th is just normal stupid.”

“Hey, you shouldn’t be mean,” Pat scolded, in fucking English for some reason, “but Remus, honey, you probably shouldn’t be saying things like that right now.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Remus said switching to English.

“He’s my partner, I have the right to call him stupid,” Janus insisted.

“And I love you too!” Remus said in Greek because he was really, truly, stupid.

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Pat looked between the two, but then seemed to accept it, dropping the concerned expression for a slightly amused one. “If you say so.”

“Can I… help you?” A voice asked. All three of them whipped around to see a young boy looking at them and seeming very confused. Which was fair considering that to his ears, they’d just been speaking nonsense.

“We’re here to pray!” Remus claimed, then he turned to wink at Pat and said under his breath in Swahili, “to that ass.” Pat went immediately bright red again, which was doubtlessly Remus’s aim. Janus subtlety stepped on his foot while smiling at the boy.

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“Oh,” the boy said. “Okay.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem interested in questioning the random strangers in front of him further. “I’m going to go back to the celebration now.”

Janus smiled at him. “Have fun,” he said. He waited for the boy to leave through the front door before slapping Remus on the back of the head.

“Ow!” he whined sounding far too pained for how hard Janus had actually hit him.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Let’s just start investigating,” he said.

“Sure, sure, you never let me have any fun,” Remus said, pulling up his wrist and spinning the golden bracelets on his arm. “Hmm…” he said.

#study break stories #not writing

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totheendofthelinepal · 4 years

Text

CONSTELLATIONS (PART THREE)

Summary: Being stuck in space with ARES was not your plan, especially when a certain someone finds out you haven’t been intimate with anyone in your life.

Notes: Virgin Reader x Chris Beck, swearing, NSFW (18+)

You had lost count of the days.

That never happened.

But now it did.

Beck was much more distracting once you got a taste of what its like - what he was like. It made you feel like you were in high school, but god it was so worth it. He knew what he was doing, that was certain. In all the days you were up here, you never thought you’d need him more than other little things on earth. Each time you closed your eyes now you could feel it - you could feel him. It came in flashes of memories. His lips, gentle; soft. His hands slender and warm. His chest, his hair. God you loved it all. Especially below his waistline. That was something you never thought you’d want as badly as you did with him. It almost made your cheeks heated with blushing embarrassment. The kicker of it all was that he knew, and the more interesting realization was he wanted it just as much as you did. Personally, you didn’t feel like you were some kind of expert or whatever you call it. But whenever the two of you had a moment alone - away from the cameras..His hands never left you.

Tonight was no different.

You heard a soft knock to your quarters, and you smiled lightly, already knowing exactly who it was. You opened the door, seeing the familiar grin - the grin that told you why he was here exactly.

“Dr. Beck.” You smirked lightly, opening the door, looking quickly to see if you were insight of other crew members.

“They’re in bed.” Chris sighed, reaching out to touch your arms.

“You really should stop doing this.” You tried your best not to smile.

Chris only hummed, mocking to nod his head in agreement, “You’re totally right.”

You watched him in that moment, laughing lightly as his hands met the ties of your shorts.

“I really-“ He sighed, pulling the string slowly, “Really shouldn’t.”

“Beck-“

“Its Dr. to you young lady.” He grinned widely, his hand tracing your waistline.

“Really? You’re going there?” You chuckled lowly at his attempt at a small role-play.

“Oh I’m sorry, where would you like me to go?” He whispered, his hand slowly reaching to your core.

You gasped out, your body backing to the wall from his touch. You fluttered your eyes, feeling his warm hands rub circles to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Holy shit.” You choked out, gripping his arm for some kind of leverage.

“Does that feel good?” He knitted his brow, mocking confusion.

“You know it does.” You breathed out, your nails digging to his bicep.

“You know- I wish I could hear that pretty mouth of yours” Chris ghosted his lips over yours, continuing his actions, “But you need to keep quiet.”

You nodded slowly, your legs now giving out at his actions. You clutched again, his fingers now pushing slowly in and out. You bit your lip hard, slamming your head to the back of the wall.

“God, you’re soaked, sweetheart.” Chris gruffed, “Can I..?”

You opened your eyes, as he slowly got to his knees. You took a deep breath, knowing what he was signaling at. He traced circles to your hips now - making sure you knew he was okay with whatever you answer to his request was. Your eyes looked to his - and that was all you needed. You nodded slowly, causing Chris to smile up to you. His fingers hooked the waistband, pulling it slowly to the spacecraft floor. You gasped lightly, the cold air hitting your now exposed core. Chris hummed softly, hooking your leg over his shoulder in one motion. His hand reached to yours, guiding it to the softness of his hair. You gripped lightly, wondering what this was going to feel like. It didnt take long for him, and you nearly lost it to the contact. His lips pressed softly to your core, and you threw your head back once again to the new sensation of him. You could hear what he was doing softly, his lips and tongue working softly and expertly against you. You couldn’t help but pant lightly, as he had full control of your body in this moment.

“Jesus Chris” You moaned out, your grip tightening to his hair.

He only hummed once again, as he now bit softly to the bundle of nerves. You felt the now familiar tightening a the pit of your stomach, and your sounds began to erupt now. You couldn’t have control over anything, his lips and tongue determining your every movement, every sound. You could hear your pants now turning into a small chant of his name, and just as you were nearing your finish - he pulled away. He looked up to you, and you never thought the sight of him licking his lips would make you weak - but it sure as hell did. His hand reached to your neck, pulling you down lightly to kiss him. His lips were gentle as always, and you could taste what he was doing just moments ago travel across your lips. He groaned out again, now standing to his feet, he never broke away from you. You let your body speak what you wanted to do, as you palmed lightly at the front of his sweatpants. You grinned to his mouth when you felt the vibration of a low whimper. You pulled the waistband lightly, your hand snaking past the material to get a feel for him. He panted out just like you did moments ago, and he finally pulled away. It was quick as he removed the t shirt he was wearing. You followed, removing your shirt and bra. You finally felt comfortable with him enough to expose yourself entirely. You felt your cheeks redden as his eyes instantly fell to your chest in a boyish grin.

“You’re amazing.” He gruffed out, pulling down the waistband of his sweats.

He bit his lip lightly, turning your back to him.

“Whoa whoa whoa.” You mumbled out, wondering just what he thought he’d be doing, “I hope this isn’t you asking to enter the backdoor.

Chris snickered behind you, pushing you forward to the bed, “No, I’m not.”

He placed you to the small bed, placing your hands on the small blanket before you.

“This is going to feel good, I promise.” He laughed lightly behind you, gripping the sides of you hips.

You nodded, silently giving him permission to whatever he was getting at. He motioned to the pillow, and you knitted your brow in confusion. You looked up to him, and you watched as he gripped his t shirt in his mouth. You blinked wildly, wondering what the hell he was getting to.

He removed the shirt for just a moment, “To keep ourselves quiet. Use the pillow.”

You chuckled lowly, bringing the pillow to your face. You felt him position behind you, his legs swinging fully onto the bed behind you. You waited a moment, and you finally felt what you’d been needing. He pushed in slowly, and now understood why he was doing this. The angle was much different than all the times before, and you could feel the difference in depth. You gasped out, hearing a muffled groan behind you. You gripped the pillow, as his hips began to snap lightly into you. Your back arched, the new sensation nearly making you tumble over the edge. You could hear him behind you, and you knew that he definitely felt it too. Soft pants echoed in tandem between the two of, and his pace began to quicken. You gripped the sheets, his thrusts now beginning to alternate. Finally, you felt your finish rising in you, making you tumble over in soft shivers. Chris followed, his hands placing flat to your back for more leverage. His moans were still muffled, and you could hear the breathing rising with each movement. He finally stilled, his torso growing closer to your back as he rode out the finish in his body. He dropped to you, and his hands leveled on each side of your body. You laughed softly, feeling his weight above you in that moment.

“Jesus.” Chris panted out, the shirt falling to the floor.

“That felt amazing.” You sighed, your body beginning to relax.

“It’s only the start of trying new things, babe.” Chris laughed softly, his lips pressing to your shoulder.

The crew had no idea - and if they did you knew that you would have broken countless rules at this point. Having sexual relations was not something that was allowed aboard EVA space mission. You knew you should’ve stopped it before even thinking about it - but now that you knew Chris intimately, you just couldn’t. It wasn’t purely physical anymore, you knew that in the past months the two of you had grown to bond with each other. Whether that be over talks about your mother, or playing cards. Now you just appreciated it so much more. You sat across from him now, as he shuffled the deck - he gave you a knowing smirk. You kicked him lightly, telling him silently that the crew was around you in this moment.

“God, just think. 50 more days and we’re home.” Vogel commented, walking past the two of you.

“I know I can’t wait.” You sighed, grabbing your hand of cards.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when we get back?” Johanssen called out to you behind a computer.

“I dont know, probably see my mother.” You smiled softly, knowing how much she mustve missed you.

“What about you Beck?” Vogel motioned to Chris, and he smirked once again.

“I think I might grab me a date.” He bit back a grin, placing a card to the table.

“That so? With who?”” Vogel chuckled lowly.

“Girl I met at school. Months ago.” Chris grinned once again, and you almost kicked him again.

“Does she know about this?” Johanssen joined the laughter.

“I think so. At least I hope she does.” Chris sighed, his eyes flickering to you in just a quick motion.

“Have you known her a long time?” Vogel smiled to Beck, leaning back to his chair.

“I have actually, we met at Yale. She’s great in bed too.” Chris grinned proudly.

This time you did kick him. He flinched lightly, only to smirk for the third damn time.

“Too much information.” Johanssen laughed softly.

“Looks like Beck is getting lucky when he gets home.” Vogel chuckled.

“God I hope so.” Chris sighed, his eyes looking to you again.

“I think you’ve got a good chance, buddy.” You smirked now, hoping he would pick up on your suggestion.

He only grinned to you, his leg now moving yours in a slow motion.

If only Vogel and Johanssen knew what was going on underneath that table.

#chris beck #chris beck x reader #chrisbeck #chris beck x y/n #sebstan #sebastian stan #seb stan

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imagine-your-party-hosts · 4 years

Text

Dearly Beloved, Ch.2

Word Count: 2,404

Pairing: OC x ?

Rated: T

Summary: "I promise I'll be able to make you happy again!" His voice was booming and clear, with no hesitation. He reached for her cold hands, clasping them tight in both of his, holding them to his chest where she could feel his pounding heart. Every part of her longed to believe it and to hold onto something as warm as his hand for the rest of their lives; how long would that be?

[Previous Chapter]

The three boys had been there for about a month now. Yukiko had been quiet; she was alone in the Flame Estate, finally taking a few steps outside when her brother came knocking. He asked her for a walk, and though she had not really wanted to, she agreed, if nothing else to get her mind off of Rengoku’s departure.

“They’re almost done with rehabilitation training with the butterfly girls right now. They say they’re a handful!”

Yukiko jumped, immediately turning away from the Butterfly Estate they’d been walking past, yanking on the sleeves of her haori. “I didn’t ask,” she murmured, while beside her her brother tittered.

“I can tell you’re interested. Why don’t you talk to them some more? You barely talk to anyone that isn’t me or Kyojuro-sama,” he told her, though she was already starting to walk away, her arms stiff at her sides.

“They look like trouble,” she said under her breath, and Yukiya laughed, following after her.

“No they don’t! They look like nice boys. I’m sure they’d like company that isn’t trying to give them medicine or dump tea on their heads,” he said. “The one boy with the big forehead, he’s even managed to do concentrated breathing all night!” She quickened her pace, though Yukiya had no problem keeping up.

“I am busy!” she huffed out, coughing to keep her breath. Beside her, Yukiya beamed.

“Doing what? I heard Kyojuro-sama got sent on a mission without you.” Yukiko kept walking, her head down, her hands clenched into fists. “I also heard those little boys’ crows talking. You know they’re getting sent to that train, right?”

Yukiko suddenly stopped, and Yukiya gently bumped into her back. Her shoulders were set, and the air around her was hot enough for their cheeks to flush.

“I’m going with them,” she stated, and behind her Yukiya laughed, clapping his hands.

“I figured you’d like that piece of information!” he said, though she was already moving again, a light jog that Yukiya only had to briskly walk to keep up. “I can go stall them, if you’d like?”

“Please!” she yelled out; it echoed through the whole headquarters, and from his estate, Sanemi glanced up into the air and could sense the trouble she was starting.

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

Yukiko had not baked in a very long time; the last time she’d slaved over cookies was when she was begging Rengoku every week to take her on as his tsugoku. He had no problem telling her yes, though every time she was getting dragged away by Sanemi for interrupting their meetings.

She hated him. She hated running, too, though here she was, racing towards the gates with a small pink box of chocolate chip cookies clutched towards her chest. She hoped she’d not missed them yet, and that she’d have to run to the train station alone; Yukiya would never let her down, she thought.

“Please wait!” she yelled out, skidding to a halt just outside the gates. The three boys were almost turned away, waving their goodbyes to the three small butterfly girls and to her brother, who stood against the gates with a smile.

She kneeled over, hiding her bright red face to cough and catch her breath while the boys hesitated.

“It’s that weird girl,” Inosuke attempted to whisper to the others. Zenitsu jutted his elbow out to hit him in his side, and Inosuke did the same.

“Hazuki-sama, right? Is everything okay?” asked the one with the big forehead, and she sputtered, taking a big huff before she shot up.

“Please let me come with you!” she said suddenly, jutting her hand out awkwardly, holding the small box of cookies to them. “I am not sure if you like them, but I baked cookies! Please accept them!”

“Cookies?” Tanjirou asked her, while Inosuke stepped forward and swiped them from her.

“Yes! Chocolate chip!” she chirped out, her brother covering his face with his hands from the wall.

“So many girls are cooking for us today!” Zenitsu sang out, stepping forward to take a cookie from the box, though before he could Inosuke took a bite, paper and all.

“Come on, are you serious?!” Zenitsu yelled, attempting to rip the box back from him.

“You’re asking to come with?” Tanjirou asked her, doing his best to ignore the two arguing behind him. Her face was still a bright red, both from running and from her outburst, and she stood straight as a board.

“Please!” she said, much too loud for how close they were all standing. “Kyojuro left without me, and I can’t stand for that. I have to be on that train.”

Tanjirou glanced down at her hands, clenched into fists. “He won’t be mad at you?” he asked her, and she suddenly grinned.

“He knows me. He knew I wouldn’t stay put,” she told him, and he couldn’t turn down her beam, smiling back at her. “Please,” she repeated, though Tanjirou knew already he wasn’t going to tell her no.

“You ran all this way, of course! We wouldn’t say no,” he told her, and Inosuke paused his arguing with Zenitsu to say, “We wouldn’t?”

“Thank you,” she said, bowing to them, though Tanjirou was waving his hands to tell her to stop.

“Hey, hey, do you have anymore?” Inosuke asked her, stepping forward, and she deadpanned, staring at the destroyed box.

“I made a dozen,” she told him, and he hummed in thought.

“Hmm. That does not sound like a lot,” he responded.

Her lips twitched, like she was going to say something, though she instead turned away.

“Thank you,” she repeated, bowing to her brother now, who instead laughed.

“Get up! It’s what siblings do. I’ll see you when you’re back?” he asked her, and she held her fists to her chest, standing back up.

“Of course!” she yelled, waving to him and the butterfly girls. “I’ll be back soon with Kyojuro! He’ll get an earful for leaving without me.”

She turned away finally, back towards Tanjirou, Zenitsu, and Inosuke. Her cheeks were still tinged pink, though she was rocking forward, finally taking a step towards them. “Let’s go!” she said, and after a pause she added, “... Please.” Kyojuro had been telling her to work on her manners to her elders, and she had no idea if they were older than her. They looked like kids! a voice inside her objected.

She walked in silence for awhile with them, while they were still arguing about the cookies with Tanjirou attempting to quiet them down. She wondered quietly what she was doing; what would she have done if they weren’t going? Would she have gone alone? She didn’t want to think about it.

“How long have you been in the Demon Corps, Hazuki-sama?” Tanjirou asked her, and she jumped slightly when she realized he was talking to her.

“I told you not to call me that!” she objected instead, glancing towards him, though she immediately turned away. “I’ve been training for three years under Kyojuro.”

“That’s a long time!” Tanjirou remarked, and she only nodded her head, wondering if she was getting made fun of.

“You’re a wonderful baker, Yuki-chan!” Zenitsu said behind them. He’d finally had a small chunk of a cookie that hadn’t been crushed by Inosuke, and was reveling, thinking of a small, stout Yukiko in an apron.

“Thank you. My parents owned a bakery,” she said, glancing back at him. She gave a tiny smile when she saw how content they looked, Inosuke with chocolate smeared across his boar head and Zenitsu still nibbling at the small bit he’d gotten. “I’m sorry you didn’t get any. I’ll make more,” she told Tanjirou, and blinked at the large box on his back. “And - for her, if she can have any.”

“Shoulda moved faster!” Inosuke snapped, his hands proudly on his hips.

“Thank you! I’m sure Nezuko would like that,” Tanjirou said, grinning at her, and she squinted as if she was blinded.

“That’s her name?” Yukiko asked him, pulling on the sleeve of her haori, tugging it further down off her shoulder. “Nezuko-chan?” When Tanjirou nodded his head, she paused for a moment, biting gently down on her lip. “I… am sorry for what happened. I know the pity is probably getting old, but it’s true. If that happened to my brother, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t think I could be as strong as you.”

Tanjirou hesitated at that, glancing over to her, though she still would not meet his eyes, gripping her haori in her palm. “Thank you. I’m sure you could, though. You look like you two care about each other a lot.”

She didn’t respond, only shrugging her pale shoulders. She had the same strange freckles there, small triangular shapes that looked like constellations on her milky skin. Tanjirou opened his mouth to ask her something, though she suddenly looked up, pointing forward.

“Look, the train station!” she said, again too loud, though she was already taking a step forward and then back again. She looked at the three, almost like waiting for validation, permission to run forward; Zenitsu stepped forward, holding his hand out, and she actually took it, dragging him along.

Tanjirou had been so distracted he hadn’t even smelled the difference in the air. Inosuke ran forward with them, and after a moment Tanjirou took off as well, meeting up with Yukiko and Zenitsu. She was looked up to the steam billowing from the train engine with a bright grin, while Zenitsu was looking at her and swaying from side to side.

“Look! Kyojuro’s somewhere on that,” she said to Inosuke and Tanjirou as they caught up, pointing towards it, while Inosuke slapped her hand away.

“Don’t point at it!” he told her, while the same time she yanked her hand away and said, “What the hell?!”

“It’s the lord of land! Right now it’s asleep, but be careful!!” he said, and she hesitated, glancing away from him back to Zenitsu.

“It’s a steam train,” he said blankly.

“Maybe it’s the guardian deity of this place,” Tanjirou suggested, and she blinked from Zenitsu to him.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” she thought aloud, while behind her Inosuke took a running jump to the train.

“Stop it, you’re embarrassing us in front of Yuki-chan!” Zenitsu yelled, running forward to grab hold of Inosuke and pull him away. Her brow was furrowed, looking back up to the train in thought, again wondering why she was here, when she heard a whistle and jumped when Zenitsu grabbed her instead.

“It’s the police! Come on, run!” he told her, and she hesitated, though still let herself get pulled along with the others.

“I hate running!” she called after them, and Zenitsu yelled, “I’m sorry!!” back to her.

Once they’d rounded a corner and Zenitsu let go of them Yukiko huffed, falling down onto her bottom onto the ground.

“I’ve ran so much today,” she was panting out to herself, ignoring the three boys talking in the back. “This better be worth it, Kyojuro.”

When she heard the train whistle she glanced up, before turning back to Zenitsu looking for the police still, and after a moment she jumped up. “I have to go, I’m sorry!” she told them, though Inosuke was already running ahead of her to fight the train.

“We should go, too!” Tanjirou told Zenitsu, running after them, and he sputtered before taking off as well.

“You run so fast!!” Yukiko yelled up to Inosuke as he jumped on. She swallowed, before she sucked in a breath and did the same, grabbing hold of the railing and pulling herself over.

“You just don’t run fast enough!” Inosuke told her, reaching over with Tanjirou to help pull Zenitsu up as well.

“I don’t!” she agreed, and she finally laughed when she saw them tumble down together. She was grinning brightly as she reached down and helped them up, her eyes twinkling and dancing. “Kyojuro’s somewhere on this train! You’ll help me look, right?”

Her hair was getting blown in her face, even with her bangs pinned back with a bow, and Tanjirou couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped him. She shook her head wildly, reaching to grab her hair and pull it back, though she couldn’t hold it all back and it still swung wildly around, whacking Inosuke in his face.

“What is it? Don’t laugh!” she objected, though she herself was laughing loudly, even as Inosuke squealed and pushed her hair away.

“Of course we’ll help you look!” Tanjirou yelled instead back to her, over the wind that was whipping her hair back and forth. She hesitated, staring up at his pretty, kind eyes, before she smiled, reaching forward and placing a hand to his shoulder.

“Thank you!!” she shouted back to him, squeezing his shoulder. “You have pretty strong shoulders, carrying around that box all day, huh?”

She was close enough that Tanjirou could smell the firewood in her hair that was brushing against his nose. Even with everything around him, hickory was all he could smell, triangular stars were all that was in front of him.

“Thank you!!” he repeated her words; it was all he could think to say. She finally met his eyes; hers were an icy blue, blanketed by long, dark eyelashes that fluttered briefly when she realized she was staring. She lifted her hand from his shoulder quickly, reaching both her hands to hold her hair back, pulling it away from Tanjirou.

“Let’s go find Kyojuro!” she called to the three boys, stomping her feet. “... Please!!”

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

“Where’s your sister?”

Yukiya glanced up from his book; he’d heard Sanemi’s loud footsteps long before he threw open the door, but he figured he might as well enjoy a few more quiet moments before he was disrupted.

“Isn’t she a little young for you?” Yukiya asked, leaning back in his chair to look at the Wind Pillar, who only rolled his eyes.

“I don’t like that brat in any kinda way. There’s a reason she was told to stay.” Sanemi told him, folding his arms across his chest, and Yukiya shook his head, turning away back to his book.

“And there’s a reason she went. A piece of advice, you probably shouldn’t actively be pissing off your healers. Is that all you want? Because I’m not giving you my blessing to date my sister.”

#kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny #demon slayer x oc #kny x oc #tanjirou kamado #inosuke hashibira #original character #my writing #read the kny leaks and had to put out my feelings

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

988

survey by ashleybayle

Has anyone ever told you that you looked like a celebrity? Yeah. The most popular opinion I get is Anna Akana and a local singer named Kakie, and then more occasionally I’ve also gotten Lucy Hale. Of course, all of these people are absolutely gorgeous though so it’s hard to accept comments like these lol

When was the last time you got something done to your hair? Professionally, late February. But I trimmed my bangs last Saturday.

Do you have any change on you right now? Barely. I only have a few 1-peso coins and a couple of 25-cent coins left.

What color is the pillowcase(s) on your bed? They’re pink with white lines.

Do you have a favorite day of the week? I like Monday mornings because we have weekly video calls for work and it’s really the only time I get to talk to other people anymore. Even if I can’t really count any of my colleagues as my friends, I’m able to get the human connection I’ve been hungry for and it always leaves me feeling good for the rest of the day.

Cutting your hair extremely short, would you do it? Yeah. That’s what I did last February; I’d do it again once my hair gets too long. I’ll probably go even shorter the next time because depression.

Have you ever been in an art show? I’ve been to art exhibits, if you’re referring to the same thing.

Would you considered yourself to be well-exposed to life or sheltered? I was sheltered for most of my life but I’ve been trying to get exposed to more scary life things so that I slowly start to detach from people I used to normally depend on, like my parents.

How high is your pain tolerance? Not high at all. I bruise like a peach and have near-meltdowns over sharp objects especially if I get pricked by one.

Have you ever played the game Halo? I don’t think so. I could have watched others play it in the past, but I’ve never played the game myself.

Are you wearing any jewelry at the moment? No I’m not.

Is there a sport that you love to play? Table tennis! Futsal was also fun the one or two times I played it, and it was in playing that sport that I learned I apparently make a good goalkeeper. In an alternate universe I probably play football, ha.

Has anything made you sad in the past 48 hours? Yes. That’s a constant state of mind now.

Have you ever had to learn lines for a play/skit/movie? Yes. We were required to do so many skits in high school so making scripts and memorizing lines was part of a normal day.

Do you like your nose? I’ve never complained about it. I don’t normally think about my nose either.

Is there a hair color you prefer on the opposite sex? No.

Kissing someone with facial hair, do you mind? I’ve never tried it, so I don’t have a solid opinion.

Would you ever like to be a stunt person? Sounds fun but I’m barely physically fit for such a role and I’d break a bone almost immediately. Even professional stunt people get injured, so...

Are you a pyromaniac? The furthest thing from it. I’m terrified of fire.

How soon is your birthday? Six months and a day.

Are you one of those people who listen to songs on repeat? Isn’t everyone prone to doing that once in a while? But yeah, I guess I’m ‘one of those’ people.

Can any of your friends sing very well? Lots of em. Hannah, Tina, Ed, Andi, Michelle, Nacho, etc.

Would you ever enter any kind of pageant? That does not sound interesting to me.

Do you have piano fingers? No :(

What is your preferred curse word? Fuck.

When someone's drunk, the truth comes spilling out, correct? I guess, for some people. Other people express their drunkenness in other ways. But I for sure lose my filter once I’m drunk; it’s a lot easier to ask me questions once I’ve had a few glasses, ha.

Have you ever shouted something random at someone out a car window? I’m sure I’ve rolled down my windows to cuss out a stupid driver once or twice.

Have you ever slept on a beach? No. I know my mom does, but I personally find it risky/dangerous. When it comes to open spaces like the beach, I find it hard to trust people to not be thieves.

Would you like to be taller? It’s not an active wish of mine. It’d always be cool to be taller, but I’m also okay with my current height.

Are you a fan of piercings on the opposite sex? Not necessarily. I wouldn’t say I’m attracted to them.

Have you ever listened to Celtic music? Nope.

Do you enjoy making up words? I’ve never done that, no.

Have you ever been attacked by an animal? Aside from the time a giant bird kind of charged at me at a safari and getting playbites from Cooper, no. Cats hiss at me all the time, but I get out of their vicinity before they can attack me or whatever.

Who did you dance with last? Rita, Blanch, Mik, Laurice, Jum, a bunch of strangers.

When holding hands, do you intertwine fingers? Yeah. That’s my favorite.

Is there a movie that makes you cry every single time you watch it? This is gonna get some eyerolls but...Titanic. Forever one of my faves no matter how overrated people find it, hahaha. The “Rose Dawson” scene gets me all the time.

Do you ever talk to the TV? I mean if I have comments about the show I’m watching, yeah I guess I’m technically talking to the TV. But I don’t talk to the TV like a camera, if that’s what you mean.

What's your opinion on Johnny Depp? I feel for him and all the shit he’s gone through with Amber Heard. I’ll always feel bad for having sided with Amber in the past. Movie-wise, not really a fan of his repertoire but I respect his craft and abilities nonetheless.

Have you ever watched the Tudors? Nah but I hear of it a lot, so I’ve always been interested.

Can you speak in different accents? No. My dad’s super good at accents though since he travels a lot for his job. He can do American, Indian, Singaporean, Chinese, Australian, etc.

Who was the last person you mocked/mimicked? The annoying person at the BIR who wasted my time.

If you write, isn't writer's block the most horrible thing? I’d say it’s inconvenient, but it’s not the worst of my worries whenever it strikes.

Can you sew or knit? No but I’ve made up my mind about learning how to :) I put some cross-stitch kits on my online shopping cart recently and I can’t wait to get my hands busy.

Do you have a favorite pair of jeans? Yesssss. They’re the only pair of jeans I wear these days, on the rare times I have a reason to go out.

What size shirt do you normally wear? XS.

Are you good with money? I’m good with saving if I absolutely have to, but I’m equally good at spending all my money in one go lol

Has anyone ever aimed a gun at you? No. Don’t know how well I’d fare in that; I tend to freeze up and forget words when I’m terrified.

What is the first letter of the person's name you last kissed? G.

Do you use myspace for following celebrities, and facebook for friends? I never regularly used Myspace, and Facebook is for sharing memes, staying updated on the news, and connecting with family and friends. At least up until I deactivated last month.

Have you ever written a song? Maybe in grade school when it was an assignment for class, but never on my own time.

Do you believe there is life on other planets? Other planets in other galaxies perhaps in other universes, sure.

If you think about the universe long enough, it's baffling isn't it? Doesn’t take long for me, but yes it is.

When was the last time you fell? I haven’t in a while.

Are you a fan of Christian Bale? I wouldn’t say so. I don’t think I’ve seen any of his movies. I’ve been meaning to watch American Psycho for years but just never got around to it.

Do you have any sort of debt? No.

Is there an accent you prefer? I don’t know if prefer is the right word since I don’t have any favorite accents, but hmmm I can listen to Florence Pugh’s accent all day.

Have you spoken to the person you love today? Yep.

Would you ever travel to Los Angeles? If given the chance sure, but I honestly prefer other cities.

Have you ever been through a natural disaster? A lot of them.

Is there a specific time period that interests you? I don’t think I’ve ever been hooked to just one specific era...I’m interested in all of them and read about them an equal amount.

Do any of your friends own an expensive car? JM used to drive a Lexus to school on Fridays.

Have you ever been on a train? Just once. I had to go to Manila for a journalism class but I wasn’t willing to drive all the way there, so I took a train and had Jum keep me company because I didn’t know how commuting worked.

Is there a memory that embarasses you to think about? I mean yeah, there are a lot.

Have you ever used different colored paper clips? Possibly.

Where exactly are you right now? In a corner in my room.

Don't you admire those people who know exactly what they want to do? I admire anyone who’s able to make the best of what they’ve got, no matter what their progress is in life. Life shouldn’t be a contest of who gets their shit figured out the earliest or the best way possible.

Is there a guy you can talk to about anything? No.

Have you ever been in a parade? I know I said in a previous survey that I haven’t been to a parade, but now that I think about it I’ve been to several Pride Marches, which kinda count as parades...so yeah, I have been.

Would you ever consider being a news reporter? My entire family wanted me to end up being one, but it was never an interest of mine. I was just too shy to tell them that that’s not really my goal. I like staying behind the camera for the most part.

Are you, or anyone you know, an atheist? Yes and yes, I know several people who are.

Has anyone ever told you to "get a grip"? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten those exact words before.

Do people say you look your age? Or younger or older? Younger.

Have you ever sent a celebrity fan mail? Kind of. Five years ago my friend Heather and I were at YouTube Fanfest where Joe Sugg, Caspar Lee, and Oli White were part of the line-up, and we didn’t anticipate that so many fans would come with gifts even though there was no guarantee of meeting them. We came up with a little gift of our own, which was really nothing more than a tiny post-it saying that we love them lmao (we went to the venue straight after school, hence Heather having school supplies HAHA). It was such a poor-looking gift. We went to their assistant who was SUPER nice about it and didn’t make us feel like shit for our gift which was pretty much worthless and could easily get lost – it was literally a piece of post-it. I doubt it ever got to them, but we gave it a shot anyway.

Are you ashamed of how you acted when you were younger? Some parts of it, definitely. I grew up in a violent household, so I was violent towards my brother when he was a baby, not knowing how serious my actions were. I was also a pain in the ass while I was going through puberty.

Do you ever have those days where you feel you're the ugliest person ever? Yes.

Beauty is both external and internal, correct? Sure.

Have you ever been in a musical? Yeah, in grade school through high school. Never had a solo role, though.

When was the last time you swam in a pool? July 2019.

Is there a friend's family that makes you feel like you're family too? Angela’s. At one point, Katreen’s too, before we grew apart.

How do you know someone is your best friend? When I don’t feel like filtering my words around them, and when I allow myself to be fully vulnerable with them.

When was the last time you used a highlighter? Sometime in February I’m guessing. Before the lockdown and when I still went to school and had readings.

Has a flashlight ever ran out batteries on you in the dark? I don’t think so.

#survey #surveys

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stellarumlapsus-rp · 4 years

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RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE, aka THE MACHIAVELLIAN is 28 years old and a PUREBLOOD alumni of house SLYTHERIN. His allegiance is to the DEATH EATERS, and he is currently OPEN. Suggested facelciams include Ben Barnes, Tom Ellis, Henry Cavil.

AESTHETICS

Italian leather, personalized wax seal, commanding voice, pressed collars, blood stained hands, unfailing family loyalty, heavy is the head that wears the crown, perfect penmanship, piercing glares, martini glasses, name brand clothes, calculated arguments, practicing speeches, custom cufflinks, snarling when cornered, softening gazes, skeletons in the closet, encryption protected computers, competitive streak

DEFINING MOMENTS

At six years old Rodolphus understands the responsibility that’s been placed upon him. His baby brother is born and he sees the way his parents pass him off from one nanny to the next. Meanwhile, they’ve been putting him in lesson after lesson and expecting more and more from him. His father reminds him that he’s the heir and that the world is his to command. All Rodolphus wants to do is protect his little brother.

Eleven and he dreads the day he has to leave his brother behind, but he’s excited by the prospect of a new school. His charm and charisma makes him popular with students and teachers alike. He’s sorted into the house that carries his family’s legacy. Everything he does is followed by a round of applause. Rodolphus learns that if he is calculating, he can do no wrong.

At seventeen he’s leaving school with a circle of friends that are hoping for something more out of this life. The Death Eaters have been an extremist group for as long as he remembers and his father is adamant that he’ll be indoctrinated in. Rodolphus has eaten up every thing he’s been spoon fed and he’s ready to prove his worth. He starts in law making and slowly builds up his political background. Rodolphus is going to make his parents proud.

Twenty eight and he’s finally ready to run for the position he believes he was born for. With this sister he never had as the Undersecretary, there’s nothing they can’t accomplish, that much he is certain. He’s going to run and he’s determined to win. Rodolphus wants the world to be a safer and better place for the people that matter most; he’s expected to create a hierarchy to achieve that goal. However, he knows his little brother is a werewolf, one of the groups they’re supposed to be pushing back against. He’s spent the last twelve years keeping this secret that could cause his brother harm. Sometimes he wonders if everything he’s been told is right when his baby brother is a living contradiction of everything he’s been taught. Rodolphus knows he has to win, he just isn’t sure what he’s going to do once he does.

MEMORABLE TRAITS

Ambitious

Egotistical

Persuasive

Responsible

Possessive

Family-Orientated

THE ONES THAT MATTER

JOSEPHINE: Growing up together, Josephine has always been apart of his life. There’s something about her that constantly keeps him on his toes and makes him feel content all at once. She’s someone he trusts implicitly, and knows he can go to her for anything and everything. Knowing that she’s a double agent only makes him care for and appreciate her more. Josie is someone he can always count on to get the job done.

RABASTAN: If there was one person he would both kill and die for, it was his baby brother. Since the day he was born, Rodolphus made it his mission to keep him safe and protected. When his brother was bitten, Rodolphus was the first to make preparations on how to keep him safe and hidden. Sometimes he wonders if maybe the stories he’d been told about werewolves were lies growing up, or if Rabastan is just an anomaly. Either way, Rodolphus would do anything for his kid brother.

HELENA: Similarly, Rodolphus adopted a kid sister of his own at a fairly young age. Having been best friends with her holder brother growing up, it was only natural that he took Helena in as his own family. He’s always supported her having a voice and a life of her own. Rodolphus is incredibly proud of the career strides she has made. Rodolphus would do anything to protect her, just as he swore to all those years ago.

BELLATRIX: Admiration is the first word that comes to mind when Rodolphus thinks of Bellatrix. She’s a natural born leader, and he loves being able to lead by her side. While she leads the battle, he leads the political arena. Together, they make a damning pair that threatens the very existence of many members of the magical community. Rodolphus is just glad someone else shares his want for a better world.

OTHER CONNECTIONS: bios mentioned in - Evan & Severus

#marauders rpg #marauders era rpg #marauders rp #marauders era rp #harry potter rpg #rodolphus lestrange

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years

Text

Bad Blood - Chapter 14

You can read it on AO3 or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

_____________________________

They have a case of mutual dissatisfaction, Peter thinks, watching as John Stilinski leaves the clinic to head into the Preserve to where a couple of his deputies are waiting with Scott McCall’s body. John isn’t happy with the way things panned out at the clinic, and neither is Peter. John would prefer to have his son safe and sound. Peter would prefer to have John’s son safely locked in a cage. They are mutually dissatisfied, but they are both men used to dissatisfaction. They’ve lived a long time in the world.

Derek and Laura haven’t.

“What the hell was I supposed to do?” Derek asks with an unhappy growl as Peter wanders back inside the clinic. “Let him kill the sheriff?”

“We were supposed to not let him go back to the Argents!” Laura exclaims.

Derek glowers. “That’s not fair!”

Laura glares back at him. “Derek, you told him how to walk out of here!”

“Now, now,” Peter says. “The boy has legs and a brain, Laura. He would have got there himself in a minute. What Derek did was de-escalate some of his anger. Was it an ideal outcome? Of course not, but it’d be a lot less ideal if we had a dead sheriff to explain.”

Derek throws him a grateful look.

Laura’s only frustrated, Peter knows, but Derek is overly sensitive to criticism. One growl from his alpha and the boy is consumed with guilt for both having let her down and for being the reason it’s her job to snap at him in the first place.

“Our position is exactly what it was earlier tonight,” Peter says. “And so is our strategy. We target the Argents before they target us again.”

He thinks of poor Scott, sixteen years old and dying in the woods.

“Except that’s not true, Peter,” Laura says. “Is it? Because we know why the sheriff won’t move against the Argents, don’t we?”

“We target all the Argents,” Peter says, “except Stiles. And this is exactly where we were before tonight. We can just see it clearly for the first time.”

Laura raises her eyebrows. “So we can’t target Stiles, but meanwhile he’s targeting us.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t a shitty position,” Peter tells her. “Shitty is kind of our default after all.”

“Yeah,” Laura says, and exhales slowly. “It really is.”

Peter knocks Derek’s shoulder with his own. “Okay, kids, let’s go home and regroup.”

He nods to Deaton as they leave.

***

Peter doesn’t sleep. He sits downstairs in the loft, eating leftover cheesecake and watching reruns of The Golden Girls, because why not? Meanwhile, his brain ticks over in the back of his skull. Ideally he wants to get all the Argents in one place at one time—no muss, no fuss—but the Argents aren’t docile cows to be herded wherever the butcher wants. Kill one, and the rest will come gunning. And, Peter knows, they never work alone. There will be other hunters working with them. Paid no-name auxiliaries. They don’t have the Argents’ fanaticism, but they do have the weapons and the training. Peter wonders if there’s any way to find out just how many hunters the Argents can call on, who’ll come running to join the fight. What a nice thing it must be to have soldiers. Peter could use a battalion or two himself, honestly.

He reaches for the remote control when he hears Derek treading down the steps, and mutes The Golden Girls.

Derek sits down on the couch next to him.

“Okay, pup?” Peter asks him.

Derek makes a sound that’s impossible to parse. Then he draws a breath. “I don’t know why I stopped you from killing him.”

“I’m glad you did,” Peter says. “John Stilinski might make a valuable ally.”

“Might?”

“Well, given Stiles is back with the Argents, he’s unlikely to want to go in with guns blazing, but I’m still counting it as an advantage,” Peter says. He shoves the cheesecake in Derek’s direction. “Did you stop me because he smelled of fear?”

“No. It wasn’t that.” Derek’s brows tug together. “I think I stopped you because on the night of the party he smelled like happiness. Not in the same way that Kate did. Not like he was smug or satisfied. It was different than that. It was brighter, somehow. I don’t think he knew who I was.”

Peter remembers what Stiles said in the warehouse when he thought he was bleeding out: “I wish I didn’t have to hate you.”

“No,” he agrees softly. “I don’t think he knew either.”

“I should have followed him,” Derek says. “After he let the sheriff go, I should have followed him and grabbed him back.”

Peter allowed himself a slight smile at that. “He’s a zealot, Derek. Do you think he would have come without a fight?”

“I could have beaten him in a fight.”

“And do you think he’d stop fighting at any point?” Peter asks frankly. “The Romans had a saying, you know. Auribus teneo lupum. It means ‘I hold a wolf by the ears’. And in this metaphor, Stiles is the wolf, not you. Holding him might have proven even more dangerous than letting him run.”

Derek’s brow creases. “Do you really believe that?”

Peter doesn’t answer.

At this point he has no idea what he believes anymore.

***

It’s dawn by the time John Stilinski gets back from his crime scene in the woods. He looks surprised to find Peter in his kitchen fiddling with his coffee machine, but he does him the courtesy of not shooting him on the spot. Peter appreciates that.

“Thanks,” John says in a rough voice when Peter hands him a coffee. He takes a sip. “So this is us now, huh? Last night you try to slit my son’s throat, and now we’re coffee buddies?”

Peter leans back against the sink. “Last night your son helped kill Scott McCall. You can’t tell me you expect me to apologise for intending to kill him.”

John grunts, but his eyes are narrowed.

“I can’t treat every hunter like he’s a brainwashed victim,” Peter continues. “Stiles is the outlier here, and you know it. You know it better than most, actually. You were never brainwashed, were you?”

“He’s a kid,” John says, avoiding the question. “He’s sixteen years old.”

Peter raises his brows. “So was Scott McCall.”

John flinches a little at that. “You saw Stiles kill him?”

“No,” Peter admits. “And the gun I took off him still had all its bullets, apart from the one Laura needed to burn out the wolfsbane in her wound. But he was there, John, and he was on a hunt. What does it matter who fired the shots?”

“Don’t…” John draws a hand over his eyes. “Don’t hurt him again, please.”

“I don’t intend to,” Peter says. “Not anymore.”

John holds his gaze.

Peter lifts his chin. “Do you think you can get him back? Not just from the Argents, I mean. Do you think you can undo what they’ve done?”

“I don’t know,” John says. He looks tired. Not defeated, not yet, but tired as hell.

“You got yourself out,” Peter says, throwing him a lifeline.

John snorts, and his mouth quirks in a quick, bitter smile. “No,” he says. “Claudia got me out.”

Peter tilts his head. “Your wife?”

“Before she was my wife, she was Claudia Gajos.”

Peter’s jaw drops.

“They’re a relatively small pack,” John says, his voice softening. “They’re from just outside Kielce, in Poland, but they’ve been there since at least the thirteenth century. There was a report of some deaths, that turned out to be unrelated to the Gajos pack. Chris Argent and I were sent in to investigate. That’s when I met Claudia. She was human, but her parents were werewolves.” He swallows. “Bad enough I fell in love with someone like Claudia, but to have a child with her? Can you imagine how the council would have reacted if Janusz Stilinski’s son had been born a werewolf?”

“Jesus,” Peter murmurs.

“So we left,” John says. “Before Stiles was born. We both cut all ties with our families, and we left.” He sets his cup down on the table. “I did things as a hunter that I regret. I can only tell you that I thought, at the time, they were right. I did what I was ordered to do.”

“Huh,” Peter says, narrowing his eyes. “Where have I heard that before?”

“It’s an explanation,” John says. “Not an excuse. I didn’t question a damned thing until I met Claudia.”

“You and Chris Argent killed innocent werewolves,” Peter says flatly.

“Yes.” A shadow passes over John’s face. “But we didn’t know it at the time. Hell, Chris probably doesn’t know it now. Twenty years ago if you’d told me there was such a thing as an innocent werewolf, I would have laughed in your face. We went where the council told us, and did what they said needed to be done.” He holds Peter’s gaze. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Peter, but I’m trying to make up for them.”

His heartbeat is steady.

Peter thinks of the fire. Thinks of the look on John Stilinski’s face as he broke the line of mountain ash and allowed Peter and Matty to escape. Thinks of what it cost John Stilinski to save them.

“I’m the left hand of the Hale pack,” he says at last. “I know what it means to not be the good guy.”

A moment of understanding passes between them. They are more alike than they are different, Peter thinks. In a war, nobody is clean.

“We’re going to take down the Argents,” Peter says.

“If you do that, others will come.”

“Deaton thinks Araya Calavera will stop that from happening.”

John’s mouth turns down at the corners. “That’s a hell of a gamble.”

“If we do nothing, we’re dead anyway.”

John is still for a moment, and then he nods. “Point taken. And where does my son fit in with your plans to kill the Argents?”

“Your son,” Peter says pointedly, “is not an Argent.”

John’s mouth quirks, and Peter sees a gleam in his eye that feels new. John Stilinski might be the sheriff now, but he’s still a hunter at heart. A decade and a half of community policing, budget meetings, and Say No To Drugs, Kids haven’t entirely killed that spark. And now it flares into life again.

“You won’t get to Gerard and Kate,” John says. “Not without help.”

“And here you are, offering it.” Peter folds his arms over his chest.

“No.” John shakes his head. “You need more than me for this, Peter.”

“Who do I need?” Peter asks warily.

John shrugs. “You need an inside man.”

Peter blinks. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

John raises his eyebrows. “We were the best.”

“You’re fucking crazy if you think he’ll help us.”

“You said it yourself,” John says. “You’re dead anyway. What have you got to lose?”

“Hmm.” Peter snorts. “My last remaining thread of sanity?”

“Oh, you don’t need sanity where we’re going.” The gleam in his eye is back.

And Peter, more in surprise than anything else, laughs.

John Stilinski is a crazy person.

At least he’s on Peter’s side.

#my fics #bad blood #sterek #steter senior #discontentedwinter

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writinginstardust · 5 years

Text

Whatever It Takes

Pairing: Isaak Andreyev x reader

Warnings: injury, death mentions, little bit of mild language

A/N: I did a bad thing. Okay so the end is very angsty and I cried while writing it. I got carried away writing this and whacked it out in literally 2 days which is impressive as shit for me especially considering I worked all day everyday 😂 you can partially blame Michelle for giving me the idea for some slightly...shall we say...warped Grisha powers buuut it may have hurt more if I’d kept it to my original plan. look I don’t wanna spoil anything much so just read it if my angel Isaak is someone you’re interested in. Also if you want to potentially cry a bit like I did then when you get to the KoS party listen to “Say Something” by A Great Big World, “I’ll Never Love Again” by Molly Hocking, and/or “Human” by Christina Perri. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4936

When Nikolai first assigned Isaak as one of my personal guards a few years ago I never imagined we'd end up here. He should have just been one more face in the sea of people I saw daily but he caught my attention from the moment I met him standing guard outside my bedroom. He was cute. Quiet and unassuming for the most part. Younger than I'd expected. I didn't usually take note of the details but something about the way his hair fought the neat style he'd been going for to curl at his neck and behind his ears had me momentarily entranced.

"Ah, (Y/N), allow me to introduce your newest guard, Captain Andreyev. Your brother chose him specially, he thinks you'll get along well," Garik, another of my guards, said as he saw me standing in the doorway.

"Does he now? Tell me Captain, do you like to have fun? Real fun." A hesitant nod. "You like reading?" A more confident nod. "Nikolai assign you rather than vasily?" Another nod. "Excellent. I'd have to have you re-assigned otherwise." He looked startled and I grinned.

"Something you should learn quickly, Andreyev, don't take much of what she says seriously."

"Excuse me, Garik, that's your princess you're talking about," I sassed.

"I apologise, please forgive me Princess." He smirked as I physically cringed.

"Okay I brought that one on myself, don't do that again." I turned back to Isaak. "Second thing you should learn, I'm not a fan of titles. Too stuffy and I like to think we're all the same at the core. So, Captain, do you have a first name I can call you instead?"

He still seemed thoroughly confused by how the morning had turned out for him but he looked happier about it than most that got assigned to me. "Isaak, ...your highness, ...my name's Isaak."

"What did I say about titles, Isaak?" I teased. "From now on it's just (Y/N), Okay?"

"Yes, your highne-(Y/N). Sorry, I'll get better at that." I studied him for a moment with a smile.

"I like you, I think Nikolai was right. ...Don't ever tell him I said that, I'll never hear the end of it." I looked over to Garik. "I mean it. I'll have your head before I give him a reason to be smug." I felt Isaak tense beside me and couldn't hold back a chuckle as I addressed him again. "I'm kidding...mostly. You'll get used to it eventually, right Garik?"

"She's lying, run while you still can."

"Stop it, you'll scare him off. Honestly Isaak, you have nothing to worry about. Nikolai gave you the best job in the palace. I'm, as my parents put it, 'Too laid back for my own good' but that's their fault for having me last. I mean what's the point in learning how to run the country when I never will? Anyway, we have fun, you'll see."

They escorted me to breakfast and then I spent the rest of the day in the library, very definitely not avoiding the tutor who's work I hadn't bothered to do. By the end of the day Isaak finally seemed to feel at ease and even started to appreciate my particular sense of humour.

He was kind and sweet and very funny when he was comfortable and relaxed and I found myself really enjoying his company. I hoped he'd stick around, if only so I could see his crooked smile again.

"Saints it's late!" I exclaimed after glancing at the clock. "I'm so sorry, you can go and sleep. From now on you have my permission to tell me to shut up whenever you need. You don't have to listen to me prattle on for hours, it's not in your job description." He chuckled and the sound was possibly the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. I wanted to make it happen again. A lot.

"No need, I enjoy listening to you talk. You're a very interesting person." He smiled shyly and I felt my cheeks heat slightly at the compliment.

"Thank you. I recommend you do stop me on occasion though, for your own good."

"I'll keep it in mind. Until tomorrow." He bowed.

"No bowing!" I scolded but a laugh interrupted it as Isaak lifted his head and I saw the cheeky grin plastered on his face. "Saints, Garik's already rubbed off on you. There really is no hope." He chuckled again and I mentally cheered.

"Goodnight (Y/N), sleep well."

"Good night Isaak."

It was two years full of repressed feelings, late night talks, and silent but companionable afternoons reading before anything happened between us. True to form, it was more than a little unorthodox.

Isaak had been injured protecting me during the Darkling's attack on the palace and when he'd finally awoken at the Spinning Wheel I hadn't even hesitated to kiss him.

"If I knew all I had to do to get you to kiss me was almost die, I'd have done it a long time ago." He smiled and I couldn't help but smile back as I sat back and entangled our fingers.

"You know you could have just done it yourself whenever you wanted."

"Considering boys like me aren't supposed to be with girls like you, I don't think I could have."

"You should know better than most that I'm just another girl. A normal girl who fell in love with a normal boy. A title can't change that."

"I know you don't care about that stuff but your title makes you second in line to rule. You may not like it and neither do I but there's things people expect from you."

"What if I don't want this life though?" I practically whispered. "What if I want to make my own choices? What if I want to choose you?"

"(Y/N)..."

"This life ruins everything. It's full of war and hard decisions, it takes away your freedom to be who you're meant to be, and eventually it kills you. Like it killed Vasily." It was silent for a moment. I'd never told anyone about the way I felt and I was worried it might change things. Who was I to complain? I'd had everything but here I was unsatisfied with life. It probably seemed beyond selfish to someone like Isaak who had lived with so very little. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's okay, you're allowed to be unhappy. ...Do you want to talk about him? ...about what happened?"

"I...I don't know... I was never as close to Vasily as I am to Nikolai but...he was still my brother and I loved him." I felt my eyes start to water and tried to wipe away the tears before they could fall. "He was foolish and kind of an asshole sometimes but he didn't deserve to die like that. I miss him…" The last part was barely louder than a breath and I couldn't keep back the tears any longer.

Isaak had held me while I cried and done so again and again whenever I'd needed him.

By some miracle we survived the war and, without the looming threat to our lives and our country, decided to give a relationship a proper chance. It was everything I'd wanted and more. All my firsts were his and it wasn't long before I knew I wanted all my lasts to be as well. Everything was great until Nikolai disappeared.

We'd had to put his contingency plan in action and Isaak had been far too willing to step up.

"Face it, I'm the best option. I know Nikolai well enough now and I've got you to help." He said when we all met to discuss options.

"I still don't think it's going to work. Can we not explain his absence another way?" I countered

"Not without both Nikolai and Ravka seeming vulnerable." Tamar pointed out. "You could probably handle a lot of the important state matters but it won't be enough. I think Isaak is our best bet."

"It's not ideal to be doing this on so little preparation but he's right. He knows Nikolai enough and you can keep an eye on him easily. With you his sister, no one will question it." Genya made a good point. If he wasn't completely alone we might be able to pull it off.

"Alright, let's do it then."

"I won't let you down," Isaak promised. "When do we start?"

"Now." "Tomorrow." Tamar and I said at the same time.

"Isn't it better to start sooner?" She asked.

"Well...yes. But he's going to start looking like my brother soon and there's no way I can kiss him or anything when he's like that. Give me one more day with him, it won't hurt."

"Okay, we'll get started in the morning then. You two enjoy your last bit of time together." Genya grinned, waggling her eyebrows suggestively, and I felt my cheeks heat in response.

"What she said." Tamar agreed. "Just keep it quiet, I don't need to hear it."

"...And on that note, we'll be going now. See you all tomorrow." I took Isaak's hand and pulled him out of the room. "Well that was embarrassing."

"Thought you'd be used to it by now."

"So did I. You're sure you want to do this?"

"I'm sure. If it helps you and Nikolai, I'll do anything."

"You're amazing you know."

"So you keep telling me." He grinned.

"Only because it's true. Now come here." I reached up to slide my arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss. He returned it eagerly as his hands came to rest on my waist. I ran my tongue over his bottom lip and he instinctively opened his mouth to me, deepening the kiss and moving to pull me closer.

A throat being cleared close by had us jumping away from each other to find Tamar standing there.

"I know I said I don't need to hear it but I didn't think I had to specify that I also don't need to see it." She raised a brow at us. "Get a room. Preferably before you cause a scene." And she walked away without another word.

"She makes a good point. The room I had here is unoccupied and much closer than the palace," I suggested.

"Lead the way then."

The next few weeks were a whirlwind and I was barely able to catch a break between teaching Isaak and helping run the country, and then parties and meetings and girls who wouldn't stop asking me about my brother. But finally it was coming to an end. All our guests would be leaving soon and I could finally get at least a little peace and quiet. There was just one more thing to handle first. Princess Ehri.

She'd been the focus of a lot of our attention since she'd arrived. Tamar had wanted to figure out if one of her guards would defect so we'd found excuses for Isaak to spend time with her and get close. He thought she might know something and be persuaded to tell...if they were alone. Which was why at Isaak's covert signal I'd slipped away from the party and followed them here.

I watched closely from a spot in the bushes and prayed Isaak wasn't wrong about her. It was a risk but when he'd told me what he intended to do I hadn't been able to deny how much like Nikolai it would be. So we'd gone ahead with it. Without any protection.

It was hard to watch the two of them so close together, made my stomach churn unpleasantly. Even though he looked like my brother I still knew it was him and I wasn't afraid to admit that seeing him with another girl made me jealous.

I heard rustling beside me and turned to find Nikolai, the real Nikolai, crouching there.

"Hi trouble."

"Nikolai...saints...you're back, you're alive." I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder, tears starting to fall from my eyes.

"Oh sweetheart don't cry." He squeezed me back tightly and I felt like I could finally breathe again. "You're going to ruin my shirt."

"You ass," I mumbled, the edge of anger in my voice getting lost in the fabric of his shirt. "You stupid, reckless, irresponsible, mad, pirating, ass!"

"I'm happy to see you too. But what exactly are you doing hiding in the bushes?" We finally let go of each other and I was pleased to notice I hadn't been the only one crying.

"Keeping an eye on Isaak." I pointed at the window and watched Nikolai's eyes widen comically is he caught sight of his doppelganger.

"You actually tried that insane plan?"

"We did and it worked like a charm thanks to me." I grinned.

"You know me too well dearest sister, I'm going to have to start keeping secrets." He poked my side and I rolled my eyes as I batted his hand away. "I thought we decided not to use Isaak since you two got together though? It's a dangerous job and I didn't want to risk him."

"I know. He volunteered though and he had the best chance at pulling it off." I'd loathed the thought of having the man I loved put in this position. It had been bad enough knowing my brother's life was in constant danger all our lives, but losing him and putting Isaak at risk as well was painful. Yet another sacrifice I had to make for being born royal.

"Self-sacrificing idiots, the pair of you." Nikolai shook his head fondly.

"That's rich coming from you."

"I am a King, darling, it's my job."

"Is not. Speaking of, did you manage to do it." He knew what I meant without me clarifying, and nodded.

"It's fine, we can talk about it all later-saints, is that a knife!?" I whipped my head round to find Ehri standing way too close to Isaak, a dagger held behind her back. I stood and raced round to the doors but before I could get them open she plunged the dagger into his heart and then turned it on herself. I screamed out as I finally resorted to smashing the glass door when it wouldn't budge.

I scrambled through, cutting myself on the shards that lay around me without feeling the sting. I had to get to Isaak, I had to heal him before it was too late. That was all that mattered.

I dropped to my knees beside him, a hand instinctively going to his chest to start the healing process. It was sticky with blood already and I could feel more and more pouring out every second.

"Isaak, hey, can you hear me? You still with me?" I asked as softly as I could through the tears and sobs that were starting to take over my body. He opened his eyes and looked up at me with a sad smile, somehow finding my free hand and entwining our fingers.

"(Y/N)?"

"I'm here. It's going to be okay, I'm going to make it okay." Even as I said it I wasn't sure it was true. The wound was healing but not fast enough, he was losing too much blood and I couldn't replace it and fix the hole in his chest at the same time.

"I guess I was wrong about her." He said.

"Shhh, don't talk." I dimly registered the sound of doors being thrown open and several sets of footsteps skidding to a halt not far away but then Isaak coughed and I tuned it out. Specks of blood flew from his lips and I felt my heart sink. The vial of Parem I always kept on me sat heavy in my pocket and my fingers twitched with the need to grab it. It was my last hope. The drug could do incredible things and maybe it still wouldn't be enough and maybe it would kill me in the process but Isaak was getting worse and it was my only option. Without it I wasn't going to be able to save him.

He coughed again and there was more blood, staining his lips and trickling from the corners of his mouth. I made up my mind.

"I can't...It's not working," I sobbed.

"'S okay. I love you (Y/N), so much."

"I'm sorry Isaak."

"Don't be sorry, ...you did what you could...I'm not afraid to die." He smiled weakly and reached up a trembling hand to brush away my tears with his thumb.

"No, you're not going to die, that's not why I'm sorry… Im sorry about what I'm going to do to save you."

"(Y/N)...?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small vial of powder, unscrewing it with shaking hands. I was terrified, this might well kill me but I had to try. I couldn't lose Isaak.

"No…" the protest came out as weak as he was but the panic in his eyes was strong and the others noticed.

"I have to."

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" Nikolai took a step towards me and his eyes caught on the vial in my hand. He darted forward and grabbed my wrist before I could take the Parem. "Don't you dare," he yelled. "I won't let you take that."

"It's the only way to save him," I shot back, trying to wrestle my hand from his grasp. I didn't have long before it would be too late.

"(Y/N) you can't, it could kill you," he tried to reason.

"I don't care! I can't heal him like this, I'm not strong enough, but I can do it with Parem."

"I can't let you risk your life." His voice was softer now and I could see the pain in his eyes. I knew I was hurting him and it wasn't fair but I had to do it.

"And I can't let him die. I'm sorry Nikolai." I finally yanked my hand back and swallowed the powder before anyone could stop me.

I could feel myself getting stronger every moment as the Parem flooded my system, everything was more intense, more focused, stronger. I could feel everything. The blood pumping through my friends' veins, the cells multiplying in my body, ...the near lifelessness of Isaak. Every new sensation and detail was a wonder, it felt incredible. Then came a feeling of impending death and I knew where it originated.

I pulled my focus from everything around me and instead set it on Isaak. With barely a thought and in the blink of an eye his wound had closed and he began to take deep, even breaths again. His eyes flickered open as I manipulated his body into replenishing his blood supply, the colour rapidly returning to his face. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt how very alive and okay he was.

Isaak's hands flew up to his chest as he sat up and his wide eyes flicked over to me when he felt no wound. I smiled and took his hand, my other reaching up to cup his face. It had worked, it had really worked.

"(Y/N)...No...You shouldn't have." He had tears in his eyes, fully-conscious mind registering what I'd done.

"There was no other way." More tears, happy ones this time, slid down my face. "I couldn't watch you die."

"You had better survive this stuff then because I can't watch you die." He pressed a kiss to my palm. "Can you heal her?" He nodded towards Ehri. "We might need her."

I didn't want to, not after she'd almost taken Isaak from me but I did. It was so easy. Nikolai ordered Tolya to bring her to the infirmary and keep an eye on her before coming to kneel beside me. He did not look happy.

"You are in so much trouble when you recover from this. So. Much. Trouble." He looked over to Isaak. "I'm glad you're okay. That was a stupid risk you two took tonight though...clearly you're far too good at being me."

"He is, it's rather disconcerting at times." I grinned but it slipped from my face very quickly as i felt the effects of the drug begin to wane.

"Uh-oh…"

"(Y/N)?" Nikolai placed a hand on my cheek and turned my head to make me meet his concerned eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

"It's fading." I whispered, feeling weaker by the second. Isaak's hand clenched around my own and both he and Nikolai sucked in a breath. We all knew what came next wasn't going to be pretty.

"Listen to me." Isaak's voice was remarkably steady but I could feel his heartbeat and knew it was all show. "You're strong, you can fight it. Nina beat it and so can you. Don't give up." His thumb started rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand. "I know it's going to be hard and it's going to hurt but we believe in you, you can get through it." I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Okay… you're right...I can do this." Then a thought hit me. "I've got an idea."

Rather than explain I got right to it, I hadn't taken much in the hope it would be easier to recover and I didn't have much time left. I could feel the Parem inside me just as I could feel each cell in my body. I focused on the lingering Parem particles and made my body attack. I knew I'd never get it all but I could try. That was only half the problem though. I could feel the damage the drug had done, how it had altered the chemistry of my mind and body. Injuries like any other. I healed them. ...Well as best I could when having to use the very thing that caused them in the first place.

Finally there was no more I could do. Hopefully I'd given myself a fighting chance but I couldn't be sure. As I felt myself crashing down from the high I ceased my efforts and opened my eyes to gaze into Isaak's for what could be the last time.

"I love you," I said, squeezing his hand in promise. I'd fight. Fight it for him and come back. This wasn't a goodbye.

He opened his mouth to say it back but I collapsed before he could. Darkness and pain engulfed me and the despair they wrought made me want to give up immediately, anything to make it and. But I held tight to the thought of Isaak waiting for me and the silent promise I made. I would face anything to get back to him and be in his arms once more. Fight it he'd said, so I fought.

A long while later - what I soon found out had been a week - the fight was finally over. I woke to blinding light and silence but I didn't wake alone. When my body at last felt like my own again and my eyes had adjusted to the soft morning? evening? light I registered two sleeping forms weighing down my bed and trapping my hands.

At some point while the healers and heartrenders had me knocked out, Isaak had been made to look himself again. His curly brown hair was a mess and I longed to run my hand through it again. My fingers twitched against his cheek with the need and I felt Isaak begin to stir at the movement. He lifted his head and our eyes locked. His eyes this time, not my brother's. Saints I'd missed those eyes.

"Well you look terrible," I teased. It was a blatant lie. After weeks of seeing him with Nikolai's face and watching him almost die in front of me, nothing was sweeter than the sight of him alive and himself again.

"I did almost die you know," he grumbled sleepily but couldn't keep a smile off his face.

"That's old news and I almost died right after."

"Yes, and you are in a whole world of trouble for that." I hadn't noticed Nikolai wake up on my other side but at his words I cringed and turned to look at him. He looked awful as well.

"In my defence I didn't actually die...so maybe don't be mad at me?"

"Actually you did. ...(Y/N) do you realise the absolute hell you put us both through this past week? Your heart stopped twice and both times I thought they weren't going to be able to get you back, that I was going to have to watch my baby sister die right in front of me and not be able to do anything to save you. Do you understand how hard that is?" Nikolai had tears in his eyes and the pain of seeing him so undone, having been the one that caused it, gnawed away at my heart.

"I do understand," I said quietly. "It's exactly how I felt when Isaak was dying." I took a steadying breath and squeezed both their hands. This much emotion so soon after waking up was difficult to cope with.

"I know what I did was a stupid risk and you can both lecture me as much as you like about it but let me ask you something first. It might help you understand. Now, I have no idea just how bad I was but you both look like wrecks so it must have been a bit of a horror show. If you'd had the chance to make it better, to stop the pain and help me, would you have done whatever it took?" As I suspected they both nodded without even a moment's hesitation. "Then you can't blame me for doing what I did. I'd do anything, sacrifice everything, to save either one of you. There was nothing you could do for me but there was something I could do for Isaak and I won't ever regret taking that risk. It was worth it." Both of them had started crying and I tugged on their hands to bring them into a hug. "I'm sorry I scared you," I whispered through my own tears.

"We forgive you," Isaak breathed into my shoulder. "Just never, ever do anything like that again."

"I promise." I let them go and they both took seats on the edge of my bed. "So what have I missed? And what happened to you?"

"A lot," Nikolai said simply. "I'll get you caught up later but you should probably know that I'll be marrying Princess Ehri."

"What!? She tried to kill Isaak! ...Or you I guess."

"Not her actually, that was one of the Tavgharad, Mayu."

"That makes a lot of sense actually. I can't believe you're really getting married though."

"Neither can I but we all have to do what's necessary." He paused and the smirk I knew to fear spread across his face. "Speaking of marriage...I expect you two to finally stop putting it off. If almost dying for each other isn't enough to commit then I don't know what is."

"Is that really possible though? I mean, (Y/N)'s a beloved Princess and I'm just a guard." There was so much hope in Isaak's eyes and I could only hope that wouldn't be shattered.

"Also technically he didn't almost die for me, he did that for you. Maybe you should marry him."

"Maybe, we'd make a very attractive a couple." He eyed Isaak jokingly and I poked his chest hard.

"Hands of, I got there first."

"Fine. But I don't think anyone can object to a man who laid down his life for his King. Isaak is a hero and I do believe the Princesses in the stories marry the heroes."

"You're serious?" Nikolai nodded with a grin. "Thank you!"

"There's nothing to thank me for. All I want is for you to be happy and Isaak makes you happy. I'll be damned if something as ridiculous as the circumstances of your births takes that away from you."

"You are the best brother ever."

"I know." He turned to Isaak. "You know you're already like a brother to me now but I'm still warning you. Don't ever do something stupid and dangerous like that again. If you get hurt, that hurts (Y/N) and I refuse to let anything else hurt her again. Understand?"

"Of course."

"Speaking of hurting, everything's okay with your wound right?" I asked Isaak.

"It's fine, I've never felt better actually. You did good, didn't even leave a scar."

"Really?" I couldn't quite believe it somehow and pulled down the collar of his shirt to check. Nothing. Not a mark marred his skin. My fingers idly traced where the dagger had pierced but I could feel as little as I could see. There really was no sign anything had even happened.

"I feel like I shouldn't be seeing this," Nikolai said, averting his eyes.

"Leave then," I said not even bothering to look over at him. And when I pulled Isaak down into a kiss, he did.

I'd missed this. The soft press of Isaak's mouth against mine, the safety I felt wrapped in his arms, the utter surety of every touch. Everything silently saying I love you, I'll never stop loving you. And I'd never stop loving him either. If I had to die a thousand times to keep him beside me it would never be too much.

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