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dilemmaontwolegs · 2 years

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i really loved your bucky fic, sex-ed, and saw this tiktok which i thought would be a cute idea for a teacher!reader and maybe a teacher!bucky or coach!bucky where bucky has a huge crush on reader so he’s always fixing things in her classroom <3 thanks in advance if you can, and no stress if you can’t! love your work not matter what !

That is so cute! I love it!!!

Mr Fix-It

P.E teacher!Bucky x f!teacher!reader Warnings: none WC: 1871

The textbooks were going to seriously hurt you one day. If it wasn’t from the fact you couldn’t see where you were walking, it would be from the strain on your back at carrying them from the resource room to your classroom. You had almost made it to your room when you realised the door was shut, the wedge you had driven beneath it when you left somehow halfway along the corridor - a student no doubt.

“Here, let me get those,” Mr Barnes offered as he jogged the length of the hall.

You tried to avert your eyes respectfully but it was impossible not to stare as his luscious dark hair bounced with each step and golden skin peeked out from the top few buttons of his shirt left open. He was the reason the numbers for his elective - physical education - had skyrocketed. The once male dominated class now overflowed with teenage girls and you could not blame them.

You sighed as the heavy weight was lifted from your arms and he easily balanced them in one heavily muscled arm as he opened the door with the other. “Thank you, Mr Barnes.”

“Mr Barnes was my father,” he said with a grin, “call me Bucky, please.”

His smile was charming and disarming, no wonder everyone fawned over his attention, it was a gravitational pull to be around.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled back. “For saving my back I will let you know where the secret stash of decent coffee is hidden in the staffroom.”

“You mean, you don’t enjoy the mud that Cheryl makes?”

It took you a moment to think who Cheryl was until you remembered the sharp tongued but pretty English teacher who deigned anyone to call her by her first name, and you wondered how he earned that privilege. Shaking your head, both in answer and to clear the intrusive, possessive thought that snuck into your head, you pointed to your tidy desk for him to set the books down.

He almost seemed perplexed when you pointed to the desk, as if he had forgotten he was carrying a significant weight in his arm. “Right, oh, books.”

“What else would you do on the desk?” you asked, blood boiling with disbelief at the words, a cringe growing on your face.

He scratched the back of his head as he seemed to ponder answering but thankfully the bell rang and he jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “I better go, uh, have a good day.”

“You too, Bucky,” you said with a wave before dropping into your chair. You were grateful the second bell was five minutes away, hopefully it was enough time to recover from the flames burning your neck.

Your classes ran relatively smoothly but you were still grateful for the final bell ringing and the students clearing out. In the silence that descended you could think clearly and you walked around the room taking an inventory on what was missing or broken or what had inadvertently been added to your room.

You wrote down all the fix-it jobs in a neat list so you could slowly make your way through them by the end of term and placed the sticky post-it note on your desk. Closing the windows and locking the small stationary room, you made sure everything was secure before gathering your bag and sweeping the papers that needed grading into a pile. Satisfied you had all you needed, you kicked the wedge out from under the door and left through the deserted halls.

The next morning a paper bag full of fresh cookies were clenched between your teeth and two steaming mugs of coffee filled your hands. You had spent what remained of your evening, after marking the papers, baking more than you could eat. Like honey to a bee, the scent of cookies drew Bucky from his office inside the gymnasium and he grinned at your entrance.

“Is this from the secret stash?” he whispered conspiratorially as he took his mug that he always drank from in the staffroom.

“Shhh, you know there’s eyes and ears everywhere.” You opened the bag of cookies and held it out for him. “That is sensitive information and you can’t be too careful ‘round here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement and he dramatically mimed locking his lips shut and throwing away the key.

“You’ve got something stuck to you there,” he said as he reached for the side of your shirt and you hoped it wasn’t anything embarrassing as he plucked it off. “Door handle, 3 x desk legs, hole filler? Dare I ask.”

You snatched the post-it back and tucked it into your handbag it had slipped out of and rolled your eyes playfully. “Nothing nefarious, just a growing list of things I need to fix in my room.”

“You know there is a caretaker for all that.” He took a sip of his drink and groaned at the taste. “I see why you keep it a secret.”

“If I am going to be put through the ringer by a class full of teenagers every day then I need the right caffeine supplement. As for Mr Harkins, I feel bad asking him for anything - he’s already under the pump as it is.” You frowned at the thought of the caretaker who should have probably retired 10 years ago, but he was a sweet old man who tried his best. “Anyway, I should get going. Here, take the cookies, you look like you don’t need to worry about the calories.”

His laughter echoed in the empty gym and he lifted his shirt, showing the washboard abs that the material had hidden. “I worked hard for these.”

Your mouth was suddenly dry and you nearly spilled your drink as you lifted it to your parched lips. “I don’t doubt that. Enjoy the cookies, Mr-, I mean Bucky.”

He seemed to enjoy seeing you flustered, if his actions were anything to go by, so he passed by close enough that your arms brushed as he opened the door for you. You dipped your head so he wouldn’t see you biting your lip and waited until you were around the corner and out of sight before you leant against the gym's cold brick wall.

“Are you alright, miss?” One of your students asked as they spotted you.

Straightening yourself, you plastered a smile and nodded. “Have you studied for your test? You have until the fourth period to revise.”

The student groaned and hoisted their bag higher up their back. “Yes, miss.”

They darted off quick enough that you knew they hadn’t studied and were about to throw themselves into it before the bell rang. Shaking your head and clearing the lingering thoughts of Bucky and his flirtatious nature, you made your way to your room for the day.

You missed him in the staffroom that day, even though you rarely spoke in the busy space since everyone wanted a piece of his attention, you still missed seeing his smile and interactions. You lingered in the room right up until the bell rang hoping for a glimpse but he didn’t show so you made your way back to your classroom.

Confusion crumpled your forehead as your fingers closed around the door handle, one that opened easily and without the clunky rattle that announced your arrival. Your confusion grew as you found half a dozen post-it notes stuck to the walls and you crossed the room to see the neat linked handwriting on them.

‘The plaster is wet, don’t touch.’

The stark white of the plaster that filled the holes that had appeared over the years through accidents and unruly teens stood out against the blue paint that covered the wall. You plucked the first note off and moved to the next.

‘It’s tempting, but don’t touch it.’ You giggled and pulled that one off the wall too.

‘If you touch it, I will have to come back after your class and fix it.’ You were gathering a small stack of the notes now.

‘On second thoughts, touch it.’

You hurried to grab the rest of them as the first student entered the room and you felt like you had been caught doing something you shouldn’t as you hid them behind your back. You shoved them deep into your desk drawers and sat down while you waited for the rest of the students to take their seats.

You couldn’t wait for the class to end as you felt the notes burning a hole in your desk and when the last student, who had lingered well after the bell had rang, left you reached down for the drawer. You nearly bumped your head when you shot up at the sound of a knock on the door to find Bucky filling the doorway, three metal poles in his hand.

“Just came to check on the plaster,” he said with a wink. “And get your answer.”

His smile dimmed at your confusion and you placed the notes onto your desk, flicking through them until you found the ones you hadn’t yet read. ‘I like spending quality time with you.’

‘How about dinner?’

You looked up from the final note to see him waiting patiently, and somewhat nervously for such a confident man. “You want to go to dinner with me?”

He leaned back to see your name on the door beside the room number and grinned. “Yeah, definitely you.”

He strode deeper into the room, pushing down on each desk until he found the ones with wobbly legs and flipped them upside down, his biceps stretching the sleeves of his t-shirt. You were still in a state of shock when he finished screwing the legs in and bundled the broken ones up under his arm.

“There’s no pressure, I didn’t do any of this to get you to go on a date with me,” he said as he made his way to the door.

“I want to,” you said before he crossed the threshold. “I would love to actually.”

He turned with a smile that illuminated his blue eyes. “Are you free tonight?”

You would be free every night for him but you didn’t say that out loud when you nodded. “Pick me up at 6?”

He licked his lips and you lost all ability to think, only just managing to give him your address when he asked for it. You couldn’t believe what was happening and gone was your evening plan of grading papers and planning lessons. You were actually going to have a life outside of work.

He chuckled as you quickly gathered your bag, shoving the notes he had written you safely inside and swiped your heavy set of keys from the desk. The caretaker's shed was on the way to the staff parking lot so he kept you company along the way, pausing only as he reached the rusted shed to deposit the broken parts he carried.

“I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight, doll.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the endearment and you gripped your bag tighter so it could anchor you to the ground while your head felt ready to float between the clouds.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfiction

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trifoliate-undergrowth · 4 months

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Dollars trilogy fandom event warmup 2: Prop (Manco's wrist thing).

It was a uneventful and not very busy Thursday, and not having any projects that he was desperate to finish that very day, Oskar had fallen asleep in his chair. He was awakened by something tapping his shin and blinked up to find a tall stranger there, poking him curiously with a boot.

Oskar bolted upright and, still half asleep, rattled off a reflexive "HELLO and what can I help you with?"

The stranger smiled. He looked amused at having caught him asleep. Oskar was irritated. Otherwise, the man was handsome, in a bony, dusty sort of way, wearing a poncho tossed back over one shoulder.

"What can you make?"

Oskar, still shaking off the sleep, wasn't sure how to respond. He made a variety of leather goods, they were listed on the sign out front, he doubted the guy had walked in here not knowing what store he was coming into. But pointing that out to customers wasn't the best way to make a sale.

"Could you make a glove?" the stranger asked then. Oh thank God, something specific.

"Yes! Might not be the prettiest, but sure, I could do that."

"I don't need pretty." The stranger held out his right hand, which was bandaged with thickly wound strips of cloth. "I need something tight to brace up my wrist. Did something to it awhile back and it hasn't healed up right, it's a bit weak when I fire my gun. The fabric is too soft to be much use unless I wrap it thick enough that it gets in the way."

"Huh, alright, yeah. I could do that. Come over here."

The man unwound his bandage and Oskar measured his wrist and hand--he had big bony hands, which he held with a ballet dancer's lightness of gesture. Oskar didn't doubt they were skilled with that gun. He drew up a rough design for the brace and talked it over with him.

"If I close it with laces on the outside, it'll allow a slight bit of adjustment, so you can make it tighter when you need more support or looser if you don't, or if you hurt it again and it swells."

"Sounds good."

The stranger sat and watched him make it instead of leaving, which always made him nervous, but he managed not to do anything wrong this time. The wrist brace was a perfect fit the first time, the stranger put it on and smiled.

He paid the price Oskar had decided on without argument and added a tip. Decent fellow, at least if you had no reason to meet his gun.

#dollarsfandomevent #still kinda woozy but I finally finished this #i put my frustrations with customer service into here thank god I no longer do that #at least for a while

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sabo-has-my-heart · 2 years

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IMW Ch.4 So Many Books, So Little Time

Warnings: Ace stealing, Ace wearing your clothes,

Word Count:1620

Thanks to someone on AO3, here’s chapter 4

You were typing on a computer, it wasn’t like the computer at your home, but it was close enough that Ace recognized it as a computer. Type, type, click, type, click, writing something down, and repeat. What was it you were even doing? You were in a library, shouldn’t you be grabbing books? Why were you writing things down? Granted, the library wasn’t anything he was used to, but it was still recognizable as a library. He thought about how huge Pops’ library was, not that he visited it often, but he’d been in there a couple times, especially when he wanted a nap and didn’t want Marco to find him. Marco never thought to look for him in the library, particularly not in the section on medicine. Finally you sighed, grabbing his arm and pulling him along the shelves of books, looking down at your paper from time to time before pulling out a book and handing it to him. Panting, Ace put the rather large stack of books on a table with your things before glancing back at you.

“You want me to read all this?”Ace whisper yelled, looking back at the stack, only to have you chuckling.

“No, Ace, this is just the first bit of things you need to learn. This is just the history that you need to not look like a total moron. That doesn’t include catching you up on math, science, technology, making sure you can write a halfway decent sentence, and fuck who knows what else. This is just all the books the two of us can carry back to my dorm when one of us finally gets tired of sitting here or they kick us out for the evening.” you stated, making Ace slump down in one of the chairs. There was more?!

“Get started.” you stated, pulling out your own things as he grabbed the first book off the top of the pile. You had your own work to do, meaning hopefully this would be fine for both of you.

A small snore drew you out of your work, looking over to see Ace fast asleep, slumped over in his chair, face down on the table. His arms weren’t even crossed under him as a cushion, it was like he’d just laid his head down and fallen asleep! Sighing, you looked at the time, it was getting pretty late, maybe it was time to pack up? Ace suddenly sat up, looking around, bleary eyes looking around. Oh, he’d fallen asleep. He hadn’t done that in a while, not since well before he’d arrived here.

“How long was I out?” Ace asked, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“How should I know? I’ve been busy.” you stated, making Ace sigh.

“Well I usually face plant into whatever’s in front of me, so I figured you would’ve heard.” Ace said with a shrug. The crew usually noticed, everyone else usually noticed.

“What do you mean you usually face plant into whatever’s in front of you? Is this… do you just randomly fall asleep? Are you narcoleptic?” you asked worriedly, watching as he shrugged.

“Yes and I don’t know. Is it some medical thing? Cause I don’t usually see any doctors outside Marco and he was usually busy patching me up.” Ace said with a casual shrug. This man was going to be the death of you. You couldn’t even take him to a normal doctor, he had no insurance, no ID, nothing! Fuck, how were you going to manage that? He could gain citizenship, which would fix some of the problems, but he had no birth certificate, no background, for all intents and purposes, until yesterday, he didn’t even exist!

“Let’s check out these books and go home, I’m… my brain is fried.” you muttered, packing up your things. Ace had at least managed to get through 2 of the rather large books, surprising you. Apparently he could read quite well, which surprised you considering he was a 17th century pirate without any sort of real education. At least it was 2 less books though. Returning to your dorm, you sighed, Ace putting the stack of books down on the coffee table while you set your stuff down in the usual spot.

“Now that we can start catching you up on the various subjects you’ll need, can I trust you to stay here while I go to class?” you asked, flopping down on the couch. It had been a long day, even longer having to watch over Ace.

“Sure, but aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? Isn’t that our ‘cover story’? Ace asked, making you groan.

“Just… I’ll make up an excuse if I have to, but I’d really like to just keep you out of sight and pretend I’m showing you around later in the day.” you explained, Ace just sighing and nodding.

“Alright fine, but I expect food.” Ace said, making you nod.

“Keep up your studies and we’ll get you as much food as you need… fuck, I hope I have enough cash for that.” you muttered, watching as a disconcerting smile crossed Ace’s lips.

“No worries, I uh… found a bit of cash earlier.” he said, pulling a few wads of cash out of his pockets. You looked at him before looking down at the cash before looking back up at him. You knew he didn’t have any cash before, and there was nowhere he could have gotten it except…

“Ace, did you steal this?!” you asked incredulously, looking at the cash.

“Yeah, those chicks flirting with me were loaded. Don’t worry, I conveniently dropped their wallets where they’ll be found and returned… just without any cash.” Ace said, still grinning.

“You can’t just go around stealing! This isn’t your world! We could get in serious trouble for this! If anyone finds out-”

“Then we’ll make sure no one finds out. Come on, you said you needed to feed me, this should help.” Ace offered, making you grumble. As much as you hated the idea, he had a point and you didn’t know of any good way to return the money anyway.

“Just. This. Once! If you ever do something like this again, I’ll let you go to jail.” you stated, gathering up the cash and starting to count it.

“How am I supposed to help you buy food then? You keep worrying about it.” Ace asked with a sigh. Stealing, pirating, and fighting were his main skills, all he really knew how to do, how was he supposed to help? He wouldn’t just be a burden on you.

“We’ll find a way to get you a job, that’s how. Just… later, once I figure some things out.” you muttered. Getting him a job wouldn’t be easy. He had no skills with anything in the modern world, he had very little knowledge of anything in the modern world, and he had no identification. Fuck. However, right now, you were hungry and exhausted, you just wanted to sleep.

“How about I make dinner and we get some sleep? We can worry more about this tomorrow. I just… I’m so worn out.” you muttered as Ace nodded, his stomach growling. You’d given him breakfast and lunch but it was significantly less than he usually ate and dinner was late. Rolling your eyes, you got started on dinner. Cooking was cheaper than fast food at the moment and you’d need all the money you could get to feed this guy. Once you’d both eaten, you pulled out some spare items from under your counter, thanking whatever power that be that you had thought to buy extras.

“Shower, brush your teeth and go to bed. You’ll smell like my soap for now, but we’ll buy you your own stuff later.” you stated, Ace looking around the bathroom.

“Where’s the bar of soap?" He asked, looking back at you. Fuck, did you have to teach him every little thing? By the time you were laying down in bed, you were so exhausted that you were asleep before your head hit the pillow. Still so much to do. He’d need new clothes, official papers, a job, a bit more formal an education, so much to do that had you not already been asleep, your head would have spun. Ace peeked into your room, about to ask what he should do with the towel and about his clearly dirty clothes, finding you already fast asleep. You’d been working so hard to help him, you were so nice. He needed to find a way to help, to pay you back. Until then, he needed clothes first, the young man starting to look through drawers and your closet. It wasn’t like he hadn’t worn women’s underwear before. It had been on a dare, but it would work in a pinch. Besides, they were clean, and the sweat pants were a little tight, but it was better than nothing, right? Hopefully you wouldn’t be too upset with him.

You were upset with him. He’d gone into your room without your permission, dug through your things, stolen your sweatpants and was wearing your panties!

“I… I don’t… know where to begin!” you said, staring at the top of the blue cotton that peeked out from under the undersized sweatpants.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t have anything else!” Ace apologized as you stared at him. He’d just… he was wearing…

“We’re going shopping. Put on your pants and a shirt, we’re going out!” you stated, quickly going to your room to get dressed. Absolutely not! This was never going to happen again! You were also probably going to throw what he was wearing out. Just. No!

#one piece #one piece ace #fire fist ace #fire fist ace x reader #Portgas d. Ace #Portgas D. Ace x reader #portgas d ace #Isekai'd to the modern world series #ace x reader

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beauregardlionett · 2 years

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gentle fingers ‘round the hilt of a dagger

AO3 Link

Beau glanced up from her glass of wine as the chair across from her was pulled from the table. The uneven scrape of the legs against the floor was a brief annoyance beneath the loud music thrumming throughout the speakeasy.

The semi-familiar countenance of Astrid Beck sat across the sticky table. Her short hair sat pinned and coiffed in tight curls at her temples, a glittering head band perched across her forehead. The embroidery on Astrid’s dress glimmered in the low light as she leaned into the table, eyes piercing into Beau.

“Evening,” Beau said, lifting her wineglass slightly in toast. “What do you want?”

“What happened to formalities?” Astrid drawled, a smug smirk pulling at her painted lips.

“I said ‘evening’, didn’t I?” Beau cocked a scarred eyebrow at Astrid over the rim of her wineglass. The vintage hit her tongue in a melody of summer fruits and maple wood. It was one of the better wines her family produced, one Beau put her grudges aside to enjoy.

Astrid propped her elbows on the tabletop, spared the tacky residue by her arm length silk gloves. She rested her chin on her palm and surveyed Beau with a slow rove of her eyes. If Beau didn’t know her better, she might have found Astrid attractive.

“You know what we want,” Astrid finally said. Her voice was even and sweet, a pleasant pull of an accent some might find charming. She said it so simply, like she wasn’t asking Beau to hand over a life.

“And you know my answer.” Beau took a measure of satisfaction in the flicker of frustration that tugged the fine lines of Astrid’s face. “You ask every month, dear Astrid, and yet my answer has never changed. So again, you can tell Trent to find something else to do with his time than to keep wasting mine with stupid questions.”

Astrid’s eyes flashed, her temper flaring in the way Beau knew it would. She took a smug sip from her wineglass as Astrid shoved to her feet and leaned over the table toward Beau.

“You insolent brat,” Astrid hissed. “You can’t just--”

The quiet cock of Beau’s pistol cut Astrid’s rage into silence. She glanced down at where Beau had leveled her gun at Astrid on the table and made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear the first time,” Beau said as she swirled the wine in her glass leisurely. “You can go back to your beloved Master Ikithon and tell him to forget Bren Aldric Ermendrud ever existed. The next time he sends you knocking, you’ll be going back to him in a trash bag. Have I made myself clear?”

Astrid glared down at Beau’s unimpressed expression for a few defiant seconds before turning on her heel with a huff and stalking away.

Heaving a sigh, Beau downed the rest of her wine and pocketed her pistol. She pushed to her feet and strode over to a shadowed booth on the other side of the speakeasy. With her hands in the pockets of her suit pants, Beau stood in front of the shrouded figure there and shook her head.

“Is it too much for me to ask to enjoy one glass of wine in peace?”

“Apparently so,” her wife’s soft, accented voice spoke from the shadows. Amusement rang through the syllables and unwound the tension coiled in Beau’s gut. “I’d say you could enjoy another glass with me, but I’m on the clock right now.”

“What a horrid boss you must have, making a lady work this late at night.”

Yasha chuckled as she leaned forward and hooked her fingers through the belt loop at Beau’s waist. She drew Beau into the shadows, coaxing her to straddle Yasha’s lap.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Yasha mused as she maneuvered her hands underneath Beau’s blazer. “I get some pretty decent benefits.”

“Is that so?” Beau smirked, fingers tracing up the length of Yasha’s throat to fiddle with her large pearl earrings. “What kind of benefits?”

In the barely there light of their back corner, Beau watched Yasha’s mismatched eyes flash with desire. She leaned up and nipped at Beau’s earlobe with her painted lips, trailing down Beau’s jaw with teasing pressure before hovering tantalizingly over her mouth. Beau’s gut was aflame with want, fingers digging into the soft silk of Yasha’s shirt at her shoulder.

“I get great vacation benefits,” Yasha murmured, Beau able to feel rather than see her smug smirk.

“Very funny,” Beau breathed against Yasha’s lips.

“Isn’t that why you married me?”

They grinned against the other’s mouth before Yasha pressed up to capture Beau’s bottom lip between her teeth. Beau tasted the alcohol on the back of her own tongue, but the sweet addiction of Yasha’s tongue trailing over Beau’s teeth immediately replaced the searing pleasure of it. She kissed Beau like she was trying to get drunk off the lingering dregs of wine against Beau’s gums. Ever pliant to the whims of her beloved wife, Beau let Yasha kiss her close to oblivion.

Perhaps - once upon a time - Beau would have been unable to enjoy this. Her back to a crowded room, her pistol a difficult reach in her position on Yasha’s lap. But with Yasha’s eyes over Beau’s shoulder and her hands securely at Beau’s hips, she was content. There was nothing in the world that could harm Beau with Yasha in her proximity.

She was free to drown in the pleasure of her wife’s tongue, teeth, and lips without a care in the world.

Beau was nearly to the point of needing to drag Yasha into a back room when she felt Yasha’s arm shift beneath Beau’s wandering hand. She had enough time to pull back an inch before Yasha covered Beau’s left ear to muffle the kick of her silenced pistol. The gun in Yasha’s hand was a scant few inches from Beau’s head. Beau pulled further away from her wife to twist over her shoulder, fingers already reaching for her pocket pistol.

It was an unnecessary motion, however, when Beau found a man dead on the floor and no others in sight. There was a messy bullet hole between his brows, eyes wide and unseeing.

“I still think it’s funny that your father tries to kill us after so many failed attempts, don’t you?” Yasha asked idly, like she was talking about what to have for dinner. Beau chuckled as she twisted back around to face her, gentle fingers combing the hair from Yasha’s face.

“Have I ever told you how incredibly sexy you are, my love?”

“Yes, but I enjoy hearing it.” Yasha smiled sweetly, her lipstick smeared at the corners of her mouth. Her free hand reached up to thumb over Beau’s lip, Beau capturing the pad of Yasha’s thumb between her teeth. Beau held eye contact with Yasha as she wet Yasha’s finger, grossly proud of the thin line of saliva that thread Yasha’s thumb and Beau’s lips together when she pulled away. Yasha used her wet thumb to wipe away the lipstick smudged against Beau’s mouth, eyes a fascinating mix of desire and fondness.

“One of these days, you will unmake me,” Beau murmured against Yasha’s idle thumb on her lips.

Yasha leaned forward, pressing up to kiss Beau with hot intent, her fingers digging into Beau’s waist. She pulled back just enough that her lips dragged and lingered against Beau’s as she spoke.

“I hope one day for the privilege of being ruined at your hand,” Yasha whispered.

Beau would be the first to admit they were unconventional wedding vows. But in their line of work, a wedding held in secret with less than twenty attendees and the promise to be the other’s end was what they had.

A lover knew best how to take you apart.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha #writing #my writing #enjoy my kids <3 #mafia au because i'm weak

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fourcornersarizona · 2 years

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Truth Serum: Do you ever regret your life styles? (For all three)

The three friends exchanged glances for a moment, a series of emotions playing over their faces in rapid succession, as if it was a private conversation meant for them only. Inez is the first one to break the silence, laughing as she pushes her thick hair away from her face. “No, I cannot say I do—however shocked my poor mother and abuela might be to hear me say that. Given were I started from, I think I am doing rather well for myself—I have my own business now and I’m no longer at the beck and call of others. Also, I no longer have to endure unwanted advances simply because it is the Don’s son making them. If I don’t like how a man is behaving then,” she slapped her palms together for emphasis, “Pow—out the door!” “And if’n he won’t listen to her, I’m always happy to help.” Vin added with a quiet smile, leaning back in his seat until it balances on its back legs. Inez flashed a smile in the bounty hunter’s direction, giving Mary a spot she could slide in. “I cannot say I do either. Maybe I would be richer if I had returned to Pennsylvania after my husband died, and rejoined my family, but I dare say I would not be happier. Out here in the west, there is an energy and a passion that has faded from the east. That is why all of the innovators are coming this way—in a few decades, we will be rivaling the east in all ways imaginable….and even surpassing them on issues like rights for women! Wyoming Territory is already allowing women to vote, and they are trying to achieve the same in the Washington Territory!” Mary paused to catch her breathe before speeding along. “If I had returned East, I would be another woman sitting at home and trying to catch a husband. Out here, I can reach for a higher calling then just looking dainty—and I can raise my son at the same time! The Clarion is well-respected, and I am a respected editor. Not a respected woman editor, but a respected editor.” She emphasized the last word. “So no, I cannot say I regret my lifestyle for a moment.” “I reckon that just leaves me.” Vin commented as Mary’s speech drew to its triumphant close, “And I can’t say I regret mine either. It’s the only one I’ve ever known anyways so… what’s there to regret?” “Well… I think getting the bounty might be something worth regretting.” Inez sympathetically pointed out. Vin shrugged lightly, his hands never leaving his belt. “That is true…” he admitted, “But I’d still live pretty much the same way whether I was wanted or not. I’d just be free to go back into Texas again when my road turned that way instead’a having to cut off at the border. But a man can live with that… ain’t the end of the world.” He paused before adding somewhat shyly. “‘Sides, all in all, it’s a pretty good life. I got my horse, I got a decent wagon to sleep in, sunrises are real pretty on this side of the world, and there’s aways something new to ride towards or work on. What else could a feller want? Can’t take money and fancy houses or stuff with you when you go, so why waste time collecting it?” Setting his chair down on the floor with a thump, he ducks his head bashfully and goes to pull his hat into place. “I oughta be going…” Inez placed a hand on his arm to stall him. “Both of you should stay—I almost have dinner ready down in the kitchen.” Mary backed her friend up, intent on keeping the shy bounty hunter from running away after his speech. “And Inez lets Billy come in the back door so he can eat his supper in the kitchen… and I suppose we should be heading down there. I’m sure he’s outside waiting.” Inez made another gesture, seeming to sweep her friends up in it as she steers them toward the green curtain that separates the saloon from the backrooms. “Come on—there’s no point in hanging around here now that we’ve had that discussion, especially since the saloon will not be open for a bit yet.” A few minutes later the footsteps and voices disappear into the backrooms, leaving the saloon temporarily empty and quiet. In a few hours it will fill up again. For now, everything is settled and comfortably still.

#Muse: Inez Recillos #Muse: Vin Tanner #Muse: Mary Travis

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fortheloveofwonderland · 2 years

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Here Comes Secret Santa Claus [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Taglist is back open, find the form here.

I am currently taking requests for holiday themed fics only. Send me a request here.

Found this idea on a prompt website and I’ve been sitting on it for a while as it didn’t seem right to write it before the holidays. Didn’t have a particular season in mind but it includes the core 8. Also using this as my entry for @cmbingo CM Bingo for the square “Found Family”. Named after “Here Comes Santa Claus”.

Summary: Christmas is your favourite holiday and you eagerly anticipate the BAU’s Secret Santa every year. This year, your Secret Santa has gone all out in order to make you smile.

CW: mentions of alcohol but other than that this is super teeth rotting fluff!

WC: 3.2K

—————————————————————

Here Comes Secret Santa Claus

You’d been on the edge of your seat excited about the BAU’s Secret Santa ever since Hotch announced it five weeks ago. You’d spent five weeks planning and scouring to find the perfect gift for the person you drew and you couldn’t wait for the Christmas party this evening to exchange.

Christmas was where you thrived; it was unrivalled as your favourite holiday. You adored everything about it, from decorating your apartment until it resembled Santa's workshop to wrapping up warm and sipping hot cocoa.

Honesty, you were probably exhausting for the rest of the team. Ever since December first you’d been full to the brim with Christmas cheer.

Each day in December you wore a different Christmas sweater. On office days when you weren’t having to be face to face with grieving families you often wore either a Santa hat or your reindeer antlers atop your head. You hummed Christmas carols twenty four seven, even when you didn’t realise you were doing so.

But your favourite part about the holidays by far, was the gift giving.

You loved buying presents for people. You would spend days, sometimes weeks searching for the perfect gift for someone. You spent all year listening and taking mental notes of things people mentioned in passing that most other people wouldn’t even pick up on.

It was like a sport to you. Finding the one thing that was going to put a smile on someone’s face. That was the real magic of Christmas to you.

When you’d drawn Penelope’s name for this year's Secret Santa you’d been overwhelmed at first. You had so many mental notes stored away about things you could potentially buy her that you weren’t entirely sure where to start.

You knew it had to be something for her office because that was where she spent most of her time. But she already had an impressive collection of animal figures and crazy pens and over the top mugs and you didn’t want to gift her just another chachki.

And then you remembered a mental note of a conversation the two of you had a few months ago.

You’d gone into her bat cave to find her hunched over her desk, groaning slightly.

“What’s wrong Penny?” You hurried to her side, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Oh nothing, my love.” She sat back with a groan, rubbing her lower back as she did so.

“Pen?” You raised a strict eyebrow at her, giving her a look you quite often gave to people on the other side of interrogation room tables.

She blew air out of her mouth, now fiddling with the arms of her chair.

“I’m fine, Y/N, seriously. Nothing that some decent lumbar support wouldn’t fix anyway. Now what can I help your pretty self with?”

That had been the whole conversation but you remembered ever since she had been using various cushions and sitting positions and still seemed to be struggling.

So you’d gone online. You found a company that made, what was supposed to be, top of the line lumbar support for office chairs.

And they were all fashioned into plush animals.

It took you four days to pick one. But ultimately the unicorn shaped support won. You could imagine the exact look on Penelope’s face when she realised the Velcro strap to secure it to the chair was a rainbow pattern.

You’d wrapped it in sparkly paper with a bright pink ribbon around it, wanting everything to be perfect. You were beyond excited. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind who might have drawn your name.

Once all the paperwork was out of the way for the day, you all piled into your respective cars to head to Rossi’s for the party.

Spencer caught up to you in the parking lot, a little out of breath.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You heard him calling you.

You turned as you reached the car and smiled at his haphazard attempt at a run.

“You need a ride?” You chuckled as he came to a stop in front of you, panting a little.

“Yeah, everyone else already left.”

“Hop in.” You beamed at him as the two of you got into the car.

You drove for a little while in comfortable silence while Spencer caught his breath after his brief encounter with exercise.

As you pulled onto the highway, you noticed Spencer watching you.

“I can feel the excitement emanating off of you.” He laughed a little.

You gave him a sideways glance, making sure to not take your attention fully off the road.

“You know me, I love the holidays.”

“I don’t think I’ve met someone who loves them as much as you do.” He sat back in his chair, unbuttoning his coat as the heat in the car rose.

But that wasn’t the only reason he did it.

He managed to manoeuvre out of the coat without removing his seatbelt and placed it in the footwell.

You glanced over at him again and a smile broke out on your lips.

“You’re wearing the sweater.” You giggled a little, using one hand to nudge him in the arm.

Last Christmas you’d drawn Spencer’s name for Secret Santa. You’d agonised over what to get him, and not just because he was the hardest team member to buy for.

A few weeks before the Christmas party the team had been laughing at your particularly gaudy choice of Christmas sweater, covered in bows and bells.

Spencer had remained quiet until you looked at him with a playful smirk.

“I would love to see boy genius in a Christmas sweater.”

“That’ll be a cold day in hell.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, Spence.” JJ laughed. “There must be a Christmas sweater in existence that we could get you to wear.”

“If you could find a…” he paused to consider this, clearly trying to think of the most ridiculous thing he could to ensure no one would ever be able to find such a thing. “A Christmas sweater themed around Halloween, magic and chess, I may consider wearing it.”

It was a good job you were fantastic at knitting.

So, in the space of a few weeks, you designed and knit Spencer a Christmas sweater.

It depicted two people with pumpkins for heads, playing chess in front of a Christmas tree whilst being made to appear out of a magicians hat. They were surrounded by the words Merry Christmas and an array of holly and snowflakes.

Spencer had laughed so hard tears had sprang from his eyes while he hurried to put it on.

That was the only other time you’d seen him wear it.

“I knew it would make you smile.” He tried to hide his blush.

The truth was, Spencer would do just about anything to see you smile, not that he would ever admit as much.

“It looks great on you.” You felt a sense of pride wash over you at being the only person to ever get Spencer Reid to wear a Christmas sweater.

“Thanks.” He turned towards the window to hide his burning cheeks from you. “So uh….did you knit your gift this year?”

“No, not this year. But I’m still very sure the person will love what I picked out for them.”

“Undoubtedly. You are the best gift giver I’ve ever met.”

What he actually meant by that was that you were the kindest, most thoughtful and considerate person he’d ever met.

But of course he didn’t say as much.

“I try.” You smiled to yourself, returning your full attention to the road.

You loved the sweater you made for Spencer, but times like this you wished you’d been braver and gifted him the truth of your love for him instead.

***

Rossi had gone above and beyond with his Christmas decor. Waiting in the entrance was a grand tree that had to be at least twenty foot tall and covered from top to bottom in sparkly baubles and tinsel.

There were smaller trees dotted about on end tables and streams of decorations hanging from almost every inch of the ceiling.

There was soft Christmas music playing and the atmosphere was simply magical you thought, as you and Spencer made your way through to where the rest of the team was in the kitchen.

You greeted everyone and as you slipped your long trench coat off, Spencer tried his best not to stare. He tried even harder not to just keel over on the spot.

You’d bypassed your usual Christmas sweater for something much less cutesy.

The figure hugging, knee length Santa dress had Spencer’s head spinning and his heart racing.

It was simple red in colour with a hem of white fluff and a matching adornment across the top of your breasts which Spencer thought might actually send him to an early grave.

“Holy baby Jesus, Y/N!” Garcia gasped looking you up and down as you pulled a Santa hat from your purse and placed it on your head.

“Santa baby!” Morgan wolf whistled. “Please tell me you are my Secret Santa and this is my gift.” He teased.

“Oh please.” You waved a dismissive hand as Rossi handed you a flute of champagne. “You could not handle my Christmas goodies.”

“You have to tell me where you got that dress, Y/N. Will would lose his mind if I wore that.” JJ laughed.

You laughed too, turning to Spencer as you sipped from your glass. As flattering as everyone’s words were, there was only one opinion you really cared about.

His expression was one you’d never seen on him and you had no idea what it meant.

His eyebrows were knitted in a slight frown while his mouth hung partially open.

It was lost on you, but not on the others that Spencer was strategically holding his coat over his crotch.

Morgan noticed it first and hid his laugh behind a sip of his drink before nudging Emily in the arm.

“Looks like pretty boy has a little problem.” He subtly nodded his head in the direction of Spencer’s coat placement.

Emily followed his gaze before she burst out into fits of laughter, causing the rest of the team to turn and stare at her.

“Sorry,” she said while laughing. “Ignore me…Morgan is…ignore me.”

She turned her back on her coworkers, trying desperately to subside her laughter.

Within a few minutes the joke had been passed on to all in the room, aside from you and Spencer.

Drink was flowing as was the easy conversation between friends until Hotch cleared his throat, loud enough for everyone to look at him.

“Shall we open gifts?” He motioned for everyone to follow him to Rossi’s living room where eight gifts were wrapped on the coffee table.

Everyone took a seat except Emily. It was tradition that the person that made their most recent arrest handed out the gifts. This year it was Emily.

The first gift was for JJ. It was slightly messily wrapped but the giver had clearly tried their best.

You all watched as she unwrapped the parcel carefully, revealing a woolly scarf and matching gloves.

She looked straight at Morgan with a smile.

“I left my last set in Utah a few weeks ago. You were there when I realised.” She chuckled.

“Happy Christmas, mama.” Morgan blew her a kiss.

Next to open was Rossi who received a new cigar humidor from JJ.

Morgan received some tickets to a sports game from Emily. Emily was gifted clothes for Sergio from Garcia and Spencer was given an old copy of one his favourite books by Hotch.

When Emily picked up the perfectly wrapped gift and handed it to Garcia, you squealed internally.

Garcia grinned at the neatly wrapped package and attempted to unwrap it as delicately as she could in her excitement.

Once she got the wrapping off she let out an almost ear piercing screech, holding up the unicorn lumbar support in complete and utter elation.

“Oh em gee!” she squealed, giving the plush a tight squeeze. “My precious, precious posterior will be most grateful for this beautiful gift!”

She looked at you with the happiest eyes.

“No offence Reid, but this is clearly from Y/N.”

“No kidding.” Spencer chuckled.

“Thank you so, so much. I will name her Y/N.” Garcia was beaming like a kid in a candy store. “Oh my gosh! The strap is a rainbow!”

“You’re welcome, Penny.” you giggled happily.

“Last one!” Emily announced, as she thrust a parcel at you wrapped in brown paper and tied with a brown string.

It was only then, as you looked across the room at Spencer, that you realised by power of elimination he had to be your Secret Santa.

You felt your cheeks turn a little red as you ran your fingers over the parcel.

“Thanks Spence.”

“You haven’t opened it yet.” he was blushing too and he averted his gaze from you.

You were a combination of nerves and excitement as you peeled the tape from the paper just enough to create a hole big enough to remove what was inside.

Whatever it was, was wrapped in another layer, this time of bubble wrap.

But the shape it made was almost familiar. Your hands were shaking a little as you unraveled the bubble wrap and you felt your heart practically burst from your chest when you had the gift in your hand at last.

It was a beautiful and intricate snow globe with a winder on the back for it to play an instrumental version of Here Comes Santa Claus by Bing Crosby. The scene inside the globe depicted an Austrian ski resort complete with ski lift and tiny skiers on the slopes.

How did you know all that just from one glance? Because you’d had the exact same one as a child.

Your father travelled for work a lot when you were a kid. But without fail, he would always bring you home a gift from the countries he visited.

It was a week before your tenth Christmas when your dad had arrived home from a longer than usual stint in Austria. When your mom was cooking dinner he had secretly shown you the snow globe and told you he was going to wrap it and give it to you Christmas morning but he just needed you to know he hadn’t forgotten your souvenir on his trip.

He told you that when he was away and you missed him, to play the song, even when it wasn’t Christmas, and think of him.

It had been your prized possession. But when you moved out of your childhood home to go to college, the snow globe had gotten misplaced somewhere and you’d never seen it again. And although this was a replica, it was a pretty damn good one.

You fiddled with it in your hands as tears welled in your eyes. You turned it upside to give it a shake and something else caught your eye.

A post it note was tapped to the bottom and even if you hadn’t already known who had given you the gift, you would have recognised the handwriting anyday.

“I hope you like the gift. It was difficult to find but seeing you smile will be worth it. From your Secret Santa.”

You looked up at Spencer, eyes glossy with tears you were trying so desperately to contain.

“I-I love it.” your voice cracked as you spoke. “How did you-”

You were cut off by a clock timer coming loudly from the kitchen.

Rossi jumped up immediately.

“Looks like dinner is served, kids.” he waved a hand for the rest of the team to follow him which they did.

You hung back in the living room, as did Spencer.

You were still clutching the snow globe, scared to let it out of your sight.

“How did you…I don’t understand Spence.” you laughed a little but your first few tears escaped your eyes.

Spencer chewed his lip with a small shrug.

“You mentioned it once, years ago when you’d been drinking. I always thought about it. And after you made me such a thoughtful gift last year, I wanted to return the favour. Garcia helped me get your mom's number and I called her. She told me exactly what it looked like, even sent me some photographs of you with it. I had it made for you.”

You looked from the snow globe up at him with a small smile.

“It was lucky you picked my name.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. Emily drew your name. I traded her for you. I’m going to be cleaning a lot of litter trays in the foreseeable future.” he laughed but it was an awkward laugh.

“I don’t understand why you would do this for me.” You sniffed, wiping your tears with your thumb.

“You’re just such a great gift giver. I wanted you to know what it’s like receiving the perfect gift for a change.” Spencer was blushing and not quite meeting your gaze.

You placed the snow globe on the table before you threw yourself into his arms.

“Thank you so much, Spencer. It’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

He tentatively wrapped his arms around you and it immediately felt like home.

God how he loved you. Making you smile was the only thing he ever wanted to do. And he had.

“Guys, are you coming?” JJ suddenly poked her head into the room and you and Spencer sprung back from one another.

You smiled and nodded saying you’d be right there before she left again.

“We better go eat.” You squeezed Spencer’s shoulder. “Thank you again, it really means so much.”

“You’re so, so welcome.”

You beamed at him before practically dancing from the room.

Spencer smiled to himself once he was alone and picked up the snow globe.

He turned it over and looked at his post it note on the bottom.

He picked a little at the corner of the note, revealing a tiny glimpse of the other note he’d hidden underneath.

He wondered how long it would take you to find his secret note.

The one in which he finally professed his love for you.

Loving you and being loved by you would be the best gift of all. He just hoped he didn’t have to wait another Christmas.

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Taglist -

All ships & genres -

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @a-mended-pact @spencers-dria @sassymoon @sexy-dumpster-fire

Spencer x reader all -

@frickin-bats @dreatine @adoringanakin @dr-spencerr-reidd @sleepretreat @spenxerslut @sweetandsunny @bellaswanismysoulmate @mcumorningstar @dontcallmekittens @kuolonsyoja @radtwinkie @drayshadow @lytrc @nani-2305 @rainsong01 @malboroniightz @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @safespacespence @shemarmooresfedora

Spencer x reader specific -

@multixfandomwriter @gspenc

#cmbingo21 #spencer reid #spencer reid fanficton #holiday fics #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid

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lipstickstainedred · 3 years

Text

Champagne 1 🥂 (dark!Steve X Reader)

So this is my first time writing in a super long time and I’m so excited for people to hopefully read it haha. This is going to be a series and it is a total slow burn. Lots of angst and there will be eventual smut. I’ll try to add warnings for each chapter just because as I write this story more warnings may need to be added.

I want to give a shout out to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for being just an amazing human. Thanks for helping me work through some ideas for this series and helping me make necessary edits.

This work also will eventually qualify for the @basementwiveswritingchallenge.

If you would like to be added to the taglist please just drop me an ask. :)

Word count: 1318

Warnings: angst, DUB-CON/NON-CON (eventual), smut (eventual) NSFW (eventual), violence (eventual), kidnapping (eventual)

A few months ago you started a new job as an assistant rep for a marketing and advertising company. This was your first REAL job! Of course, you had had other jobs but nothing like this. Prior to this job you had worked as the occasional babysitter, worked at coffee shops, or grocery stores. Nothing of substance or promise, until now. You had almost cried when you had gotten the job, having little to no experience.

You didn’t grow up privileged but you were always taught that if you kept your head down and worked hard, you could create a better future for yourself. And that’s what you had done, despite being in and out of foster homes for the better part of 10 years, you kept your head down, got decent grades in school, did well at your previous jobs, and was even able to pay for some business and marketing classes down at the local community college.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Your blouse and skirt unrealistically tight against your slightly sweaty skin. The outfit fit you correctly but your nerves made it feel uncomfortably snug. This was the first time you’ve worn some of your new work clothes.

“I apologize for the wait, they are ready for you now.” The busty blonde assistant said approaching your boss and snapping you out of your thoughts.

Your boss, Phil, glanced over at you and the couple other coworkers present for the pitch meeting. It was a huge deal for your company. Stark Industries was a multimillion conglomerate and if this ad proposal went well, all advertising and marketing jobs would be contracted through your company exclusively. It would be a big account and make your boss and your boss’s boss a pretty penny.

All of your team gathered the materials needed for the pitch. You followed closely behind Phil with your notebook and pen in hand. Since you were new, barely having your foot in the door of the marketing worlds, you were a glorified note taker at the moment.

“Right in here.” The assistant ushered your boss and you into the elegant conference room as the rest of your team followed. As you walked into the room, you stumbled nearly tripping over your heels. Stupid uncomfortable shoes.

You straightened back up and readjusted your skirt that had ridden up a tiny bit. Feeling eyes on you, you glanced around the room of lawyers, accountants, and assistants. Seated at the other end of the long conference table was none other than Tony Stark himself! You had no idea that your team's meeting was important enough for Mr. Stark to actually attend.

You still felt someone watching you, someone unseen. Your eyes fell on the man seated next to Stark; Captain America. Your breath caught as you realised he was staring directly at you. You catch the slight smirk on his lips. He must have been the only person to see you trip.

Everyone else was looking through paperwork and making casual introductions.

Your breath hitched as Steve Rogers’ eyes took you in, traveling up and down your body, before meeting your gaze. You averted your eyes away from his turning toward your boss to help him set up the presentation.

🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

As Phil and some coworkers pitched their plan, you took notes of any important details your boss would want to review over later. Occasionally, you felt someone’s eyes burning holes straight through you.

You tried to ignore it but against your better judgment you glanced up to find the same blue eyes looking you over. It was extremely unsettling and for the second time today you wished you were wearing something more comfortable, something less tight.

“I like you people!” Tony exclaimed, as the meeting drew to an end. Standing from his chair he continued, “The ideas you pitched are innovation and exciting, I like it. Just give us a few moments to discuss, and we’ll let you know our thoughts.”

Instead of asking your team to leave the room, Tony and Steve along with what you would guess to be a couple of lawyers and accountants just spoke in semi-hushed tones huddled on their side of the conference room. Your team gathered their things with their eyes elsewhere, as to give them privacy.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to take your eyes off the first avenger. His eyes flickered over to you as he spoke with Stark, diverting your gaze as your cheeks warmed.

As if on cue, Tony stole a glance your way, as if Steve had said something about you. Realizing staring at these two men was a bad idea, you joined in the conversation your boss and coworker were having beside you.

“Well, we are all set.” Tony stood up, clapping his hands together. “We are having our lawyers draw up all the contracts now. We at Stark Industries really value teamwork and accessibility. So I’ve made the executive decision to do things a little differently with this agreement. Normally I wouldn’t require this but we really need dedicated staff here on sight.”

“Requiring all of our team on sight? That would be a little difficult to swing with the higher ups, Mr Stark. Our team currently has 3 other contracts we manage.” Phil said, seeming a bit confused by Stark’s announcement.

“That’s exactly my point.” Stark explained. “I need a dedicated team focused solely on our needs. Your company has plenty of other people to manage those contracts. If you want to sign on with us, I need your full attention to be on Stark Industries.”

“Ok.” Phil sighed, “We should be able to have another sector absorb our current contracts.”

“Great!” Stark exclaimed, “So we will be expecting ALL of you to be signed on as consultants as part of the contract. That just means that your team will be exclusively working on Stark Industry projects from now on. You’ll each be getting a desk and/or office down in our marketing department.”

Your boss shook Tony’s hand as everyone in the room clapped that the deal went through. You joined in, a little shocked from Tony’s change in plan. Normally, as contractors you would work in your office building where all the employees worked.

Instead, your boss, you and your three other coworkers would drop all other projects to work with Stark Industries alone. You wondered if it had something to do with what Steve said to Tony, but quickly shook that thought way. They probably just want to make sure you were dedicated to their company.

It wasn’t until your boss called your name that you returned to reality. You hadn’t noticed that Tony had his assistant bring in a few bottles of champagne and some glasses.

“Y/N do you want a glass?” your boss asked.

“Um sure. Thanks.” You mumbled, taking the champagne flute from his hand.

“Cheers,” Captain America said, raising his glass as everyone followed suit. You lifted your glass as well, eyes trained on him as he continued his toast. “To new relationships.” He added with a subtle smirk, his icy blue eyes gazing straight into yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of why his words made you so nervous. He averted his eyes and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Business relationships, That is.” He chuckled and so did the rest of the room. His laughter spread contagiously.

Bringing the bubbling liquid to your lips you took a small sip. It was absolutely delicious. Probably the most expensive drink you’d ever had. The rest of the room continued to celebrate and talk boisterously about ideas while you and all of your team signed the contracts required by Tony.

As you left Stark Tower, you couldn’t help but feel weird. Despite the success of the meeting, you couldn’t help but wonder why you felt so on edge?

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #captain america #dark fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rodgers x reader #dubcon/noncon #basementwife

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leiawritesstories · 3 years

Text

Improbability

Rowaelin Month, Day 26: You’re seeing my roommate and accidentally walked into my shower. Featuring Sam and Rowan as roommates. :)))

Word count: 1542

Warnings: language, little bit of math gobbledygook that I stole from my stats class.

Enjoy!

~~~~

“Mate, you alright with my girlfriend coming over today?” Sam called out to his roommate. “We’re probably going out, but I asked her over here first.”

Rowan pulled out one of his earbuds and stuck his head out his bedroom door. “Yeah, that’s totally fine, just for God’s sake warn me if you’re going to do the dirty on our couch, bud.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME!” Sam yelled, “and I was 100 percent sure you had football!”

“It’s called soccer, Cortland!” Rowan laughed, never missing the chance to poke at his British roommate.

“Whatever, mate. You’re good with Ae hanging out here for a bit, yeah?”

“Sure am. She’s a fun person.” Rowan put his earbud back in and returned to doing his homework, or rather, swearing at his statistics textbook. Some fifteen minutes later, he heard the door of his and Sam’s dorm open.

“Anybody home?” enquired a throaty female voice. “Someone told me he was at home, but obviously he’s too busy to go out today. Guess I’ll just go drink with the girls, then.”

“And leave me lonely?” Sam asked.

Aelin Galathynius, who’d been dating Sam for almost two years now, smiled. “Never.”

He returned the grin and pulled her into the living room, where their conversation faded into a blur of noise too dim for Rowan to interpret. Not that he minded…much. Aelin was hilarious, though, and he loved hearing her make cracks at Sam’s British habits, her friends, her day, and pretty much anything else she thought deserved a snarky comment.

Slamming his stats book closed, Rowan huffed a sigh and decided that he could use a quick shower to relax a little before heading out to training. He grabbed his towel and a bar of soap and went into the tiny dorm shower, which was low enough that he, at 6’3,” had to crouch to fit under the shower head. Grumbling to himself about the stupidity of whatever idiot architect designed dormitory showers, he stood under the stream of hot water and tried to make sense of all he still had to do. Which was too much. After somewhere around five minutes, he stuck his head out of the shower, realizing the dorm had gone awfully quiet.

Maybe Sam and Aelin were out, then, he thought.

Rowan turned off the shower and reached for his towel, giving himself a quick dry-off before stepping out. He was just wrapping the towel around his waist when the door swept open.

“Oh, shit, sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here!” gasped Aelin.

Rowan gaped at her, forgetting that the only thing between her and a prime view of what he may or may not have been doing in the shower was a dark green bath towel.

A too-thin green bath towel.

Aelin’s turquoise eyes traveled down his frame, decidedly not missing a single detail. A pink flush spread over her cheekbones, and she hastily backed out of the bathroom and shut the door with a firm click.

Rowan swallowed whatever he’d thought he might have said and told his raging male hormones to calm the hell down. Quickly, before anyone else could walk in on him, he pulled on his practice jersey and sweats and went back to his room, where he grabbed his soccer bag and hauled ass for the gym.

He spent the entire 90-minute workout trying and miserably failing to get the image of Aelin Galathynius in her unfairly attractive blouse and miniskirt blushing at his nearly-nude self out of his mind. When he got back to his dorm, having showered in the locker room, this time without anyone interrupting, Sam and Aelin were gone. Sam had left a note on his bedroom door, stating that he’d probably be back around three. Checking his watch, Rowan groaned. It was almost two, and he’d broken down and signed up for stats tutoring at four.

He just hoped that whoever the tutor was, they’d be able to help him get his mathematical shit together and pass the course.

Two hours later, Rowan walked into the library and took a seat in the study room marked with a sign that read “STATS 320 TUTORING 4 PM.” Nobody else was there, but to be fair, he was a little early. He plopped his textbook, notebook, and calculator onto the table and waited.

And nearly fell off his chair when Aelin Galathynius walked into the room.

“What the hell?”

“What the hell, what?” she asked, obviously amused at his reaction.

“I--I didn’t expect to see you here, that’s what the hell. You here for tutoring too?”

“Yes and no.” Rowan blinked in confusion. Aelin’s little smirk grew bigger. “I am the tutor, Rowan. You’re here for my assistance…and expertise.” She winked.

He felt himself flush at the image that conjured. “Yeah, expertise, in stats, right?” He knew full well he was stammering like a fourteen-year-old on his first date, but that about summed up how his roommate’s girlfriend made him feel right now.

“Correct.” Just like that, Aelin was all business. She set her backpack down, closed the door, and sat across from Rowan. “So. How can I help?”

He sighed. “I’m stuck. I need this class, it’s the last math I have to take for my major, I’m usually decent at math, and I’m fucking stuck on a concept my professor said was fucking simple.”

Aelin listened to his mini rant without comment. She pulled out her own stats notebook and calculator from her backpack and slipped on a pair of glasses. Rowan cocked his head.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Reading glasses, Whitethorn. I’m supposed to wear them whenever I’m reading, on my laptop, or studying, but do I? Hell no.” She grinned. “Don’t tell my optometrist.”

“Given that I don’t know them, no problem.” He returned her grin.

She flexed her fingers and turned her attention to Rowan’s math. “Right, big bad soccer boy. Where are you stuck?”

He flipped his book to the section on conditional probability distributions. “Here. I took notes, and it seemed logical enough, but I completely tanked the quiz we just had, and I don’t know where I went wrong.”

Aelin scanned the quiz. “You’re reading the graphs wrong.”

“What?”

“Conditional probability is the probability of an event occurring given that a certain condition is satisfied.” She opened her notebook to a blank page and drew a horizontal line. “Any time you see a condition, that condition goes in the denominator.” She pointed to one of the problems he’d answered wrong on the quiz. “What’s this question asking you to determine?”

“Probability that a student chosen at random is an engineer given that the selected student is female.”

“Right. So, you take the condition, the ‘given,’ and put that number in the denominator. Remember you’re only looking at the row labeled ‘female,’ because that’s the condition. Once the condition’s written in, you find the other part of the question, in this case the number of female engineers. Put that number in the numerator, divide by the denominator, and there you have the probability. Does that make sense?”

“Condition in the denominator…” Rowan mumbled, writing it in his notes. He looked up at Aelin and smacked his hand flat on the table. “Aelin, I’m a fucking idiot. I spent so much time trying to look at the totals that I didn’t remember to keep the condition, I--goddammit, I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Rowan, lots of people struggle with conditional probability at first.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. A lot.”

“Really? But you just explained this shit to me better than my professor.”

“I…I happen to like stats. Might be part of my major description, but I just find working with the numbers extremely satisfying.”

“What’s your major?” he asked, intrigued.

“Don’t judge me.”

“Nope. Promise.”

“I’m in finance.”

His eyebrows shot up. “I’m impressed.”

She blushed. “Thanks. It’s a lot of stats and spreadsheets and yelling at each other about the stock market, but I really love it.”

“You’re making me look bad; I’m just your standard pre-PT student athlete”

“Standard pre-PT student athlete,” she mocked, “don’t sell yourself short, Whitethorn. Pre-PT is nothing shabby.”

“Yeah, but not remembering a stupidly easy math concept sure as hell is.”

She snickered. “Fair enough. Is there anything else I can help you with, or is that all for this session?”

He flipped through his notes. “That’s all I had for today, but I’ll probably be back at some point whining about another tricky concept.”

Aelin grinned, closing her notebook. “Wait until you get into chi-squared models. I’ll be here then, waiting for all the stats students to come crying to me while I plug seventeen equations into my spreadsheet and hope it actually calculates the quarterly interest this time.”

Rowan shook his head. “You lost me at ‘chi-squared,’ Aelin.”

“Oh, trust me, it’s fun.”

“As much fun as you and Sam have?”

Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. “Your couch would know.”

Before he could sputter out a response, she’d shouldered her backpack and was walking out the door. Rowan watched Aelin Galathynius leave, wondering how fast he could make up an excuse to talk to his roommate’s brilliant girlfriend again.

#my writing #rowaelin month #day 26 #college au

79 notes · View notes

things-we-cant-say · 3 years

Text

pretty little liar

Pairing: Ten x Female!Reader

Summary: In order to get your annoying ex off your back, you tell a little white lie that takes an unexpected turn.

Genre: College!AU

Warnings: Smutty smut, dirty dancing

Word Count: 4,867

A/N: Unable to withstand Ten’s power any longer, I had to start writing about him…or a version of him anyway. Hope someone out there enjoys my first dip into the ~imagines~ pond. ☺️

The party was in full swing by the time you and your best friend Amy arrived, the music so loud it could be heard down the street. It was a wonder the cops hadn’t broken it up yet but hey, the night was still young. Ducking through the arched doorway with Amy hot on your heels, you let her guide you into the foyer where you both stopped to take in the scene. The place was packed with people dancing, drinking and laughing—everyone apparently having a great time. Which was perfect for you because all you wanted to do was blow off a little steam and pretend you hadn’t spent the day fantasizing about committing the perfect murder.

You enjoyed school for the most part and you enjoyed your classes, but really you couldn’t wait for it all to just be over. Two extra years and your master’s degree in linguistics was almost within your grasp. You still weren’t one hundred percent what you planned to do with it (teaching was definitely out) but either way you were ready to dive into the real world. To no longer be stressed out about exams and papers and boring ass professors that constantly seemed to have a stain on their tie.

And to get far, far away from your stupid ex, Adam.

“Uh oh you have murder face,” Amy said as she peeped around to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You shrugged. “Just in my head I guess.”

Amy hummed. “I get it. That’s why we are here though! To get fucked up and do something we regret in the morning.”

You laughed. “Guess we’re Uber-ing home.”

She grinned and grabbed your wrist, pulling you over to a table loaded with different types of alcohol. The guy ‘tending bar’ as it were winked as you two approached. “What can I get you for?”

“Something with alcohol but where we can’t taste the alcohol!” Amy exclaimed happily. “Oh! And if you’ve got any little umbrellas I’d like one of those too.”

He did finger guns and proceeded to cook something up in two red cups, sticking in two pink umbrellas when he was done. You and Amy took your drinks and after a cursory sniff, took a sip. The tequila wasn’t as strong as with a single shot but you could still detect it just not enough to make you stop drinking. Unlike Amy you didn’t plan to get completely fucked up but you weren’t going to say no to a nice buzz.

Cups in hand you migrated onto the dance floor and fell in with everyone else, bopping to the beat and scream chatting over the loud music.

“I really needed this!” Amy yelled. “Statistics is kicking my cute little ass!”

“I know what you mean!” You shouted. “But hey! Soon we’ll be done and actual jobs will be kicking our cute little asses!”

Laughing, Amy bounced up and down, sending her blonde hair flying. “Is that why you’ve been so grumpy lately? Or is it…he who shall not be named?”

With a sigh you took a big sip of your strawberry margarita. “Yeah. He keeps fucking calling me and leaving me these stupid ass messages, apologizing and shit. I’ve blocked him but he just uses someone else’s phone.”

Amy’s eyes stretched wide. “That’s like stalker behavior! Or maybe he really is sorry for what he did.”

You snorted. “Sorry for having sex with his ex in the backseat of my car? As far as I am concerned he can take his ‘sorrys’ and shove them so far up his ass they come out his mouth as safaris!”

Amy choked a little on her drink, hitting you hard on the arm in admonishment after she stopped coughing. “I hate you! I could have died!”

Her words made you smirk. “But did you? No but for real, fuck Adam. Fuck Adam and anyone who even looks like Adam!”

“Woo!” Amy threw both hands up into the air, yelping as liquid sloshed down onto her head. “Oh shit! Drink emergency I’ll be right back!”

Before you could say anything, she turned and hurried back towards the drink table. Alone in the middle of a dancing crowd, you didn’t know whether you should slink over to a corner or just keep dancing. That last thing you wanted was some random dude trying to groove with you. Of course if you decided to hold up the wall nothing would stop some random dude from trying to hit on you either. At a bit of a loss you drained the rest of your drink and did a I don’t really know anyone two step, hoping Amy would return soon.

The tequila settled nice and warm in your stomach, making you feel more at ease. Most of the people at the party were from your school but not ones you associated with on like, a daily basis. Sure you recognized a few faces from the library or cafeteria but there was no one you’d had more than a surface conversation with.

And then your eyes landed on him. Ten.

Ten was a…different sort of person altogether. He was the kinda guy CW shows thought actually existed in college, except he was very real. And very much fucking gorgeous in that unattainable way CW shows also loved. However, that sort of did him a disservice because as far as you knew, he was just a decent guy who happened to be able to do some pretty awesome things.

For example, he was an amazing dancer. The kinda dancer that just freaking mesmerized you when he moved. Had you wondering how in the hell had he taught his body to do that shit? One minute he was in total sync with everyone else and the next he was performing his solo and blowing your mind. He’d done some show a few months ago with a friend and you’d nearly flipped out of your chair watching him work. The body rolls, the attitude, the way he’d just commanded the stage…whew. Was it possible to be a fan of someone who wasn’t famous?

Then there was his art; things he designed himself or drew from memory. Art class was essentially where you’d sorta came to be acquaintances with him. You weren’t exactly good at drawing but you liked it enough that you wanted to improve, plus it helped you de-stress after particularly hard days. Ten on the other hand excelled and just like with dancing, it was interesting to watch his process. He’d described himself as a sensory artist so he wasn’t always as concerned with the end product as the professor sometimes wanted him to be. From your eye though he’d yet to create anything that wasn’t remarkable. In fact, more than once you’d wanted to ask him to design a tattoo for you, but felt it would be kinda weird. He had no idea what you were into after all. So far your conversations with him had consisted of colors and that one time he’d asked to borrow one of your brushes.

You were pretty sure he’d sold something to an art gallery.

Anyway so Ten could dance and he could draw and he could sing and he was fluent in several languages; as far as you knew the only thing he was kind of shit at was cooking. But who hadn’t set a class kitchen on fire once or twice? Or three times…

If he were an asshole—well people would probably still crush on him—you’d count that as a major flaw and want to keep your distance. But the kicker was that he could do cool things and he was nice. Dorky even especially when it came to cute animals. Was always posting pictures of himself at the animal shelter playing with the kittens and the puppies, or just acting like an idiot with friends. Yet it was that confidence that made him seem untouchable, and also made him sexy as fuck. More than once you’d fantasized about biting his Adam’s apple.

Heh.

Shaking your head, you fanned lightly at your face with both hands. Maybe stepping outside for some fresh air would be a good idea.

“Y/N!” Amy nearly tripped over her pretty sandals in her hurry to get back to you. “Weewoo weewoo weewoo!”

“Um…”

She grabbed your shoulder. “It’s a police siren! We have a code red situation here, I repeat a code red! Adam just walked in!”

“What?” You blinked and immediately looked towards the doorway, brows narrowing when you saw she was right.

Standing there in a white t-shirt in his formerly handsome glory was your ex-boyfriend, Adam. Once upon a time you’d thought the world of him; thought he was the kinda guy you could probably marry someday. The kinda guy you’d introduced your family to. Turns out he was the kind of guy that hooked up with his ex in your car repeatedly until finally being caught in the act. Sure it had been gratifying to make him and her walk home half naked but it had done nothing to quell the pain left behind. Thankfully though your pain quickly turned to anger and now you usually focused on not murdering him when he popped up. There was a lot you could forgive but cheating was firmly in the do not cross zone. Everything you’d felt for him evaporated the moment you saw him with her.

And he’d promised he was over her. Lying piece of shit, you thought to yourself.

“What the hell is he doing here?! Does he even know anyone here?” you asked with a frown.

“I dunno!” your friend said slowly. “It’s possible, big campus and all. Do you want me to help you climb out of the bathroom window?”

“Yeah my boobs aren’t fitting through one of those skinny ass windows,” you replied wryly. “Though to be honest I’m almost willing to risk it. C’mon let’s—”

It was too late. Adam spotted you like an arrow searching for its target, eyes registering shock and then elation. He reached you in three quick strides, opening his arms for a hug that he was damned crazy to expect. “Y/N. Wow you—you look amazing. I’m so glad we ran into each other.”

You huffed. “I’m not. I told you we’re over Adam. Or does me blocking your calls not get the message across?”

He exhaled deeply. “Look I know I messed up but I’m sorry. Classes were just really tough and—and Lucy and I would reminisce about old times…”

“Do I look like I give a shit? You cheated on me and we’re over.” The lie came so easily. “Besides, I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah!” Amy poked him in the chest. “She’s moved on so suck it!”

Adam arched a brow. “You’ve moved on?” He sounded skeptical and that made your blood boil. “Since when? And with who?”

You’d once heard that Hippocrates came up with the saying drastic times call for drastic measures though it wasn’t something you’d be willing to bet money on. However, standing there with your ex eying you like he just knew you were lying brought a whole new meaning to the idiom. You would one hundred percent be damned before giving him the satisfaction of gloating.

Tequila’s kicking in…

Without missing a beat, you put a hand on your hip and motioned to Ten. “Him. I’m seeing him.”

Amy made a sound like a cat having its tail stepped on while Adam gaped at you. “What? I—no. No way. You’re totally lying. I’ve seen the people he’s dated and you’re not his type at all.”

This bitch.

Twirling on your black heels, you strolled across the room to where Ten sat in an arm chair, chatting with a few of his friends. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you straddled his lap and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I know this is awkward as fuck—I’m so sorry—but if you just play along I will owe you big time. I’ll give you anything. You need a kidney? You can have a kidney.”

Ten’s friends had gone mute and as you sat back to gauge his reaction—or to possibly be thrown off of him—you bit your full bottom lip. His dark eyes were watching you calculatingly, his own lips pursed together like you were a riddle he needed to solve. Up close he was utterly breathtaking, all smooth skin and silky black hair that fell artfully across his forehead. He smelled incredible.

And then he spoke.

“There you are baby,” he said wrapping an arm around your waist. “I’ve been looking for you.”

That was when you figured you owed him your first born but it was fine. “Well, you found me. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He chuckled. “You’re worth waiting for.”

His friends still looked confused though they didn’t have time to voice their opinions. Adam stalked over seconds later like a man on a mission. “So it’s true? You and Y/N are together?”

Ten tilted his head to the side and you saw the moment the lightbulb went off for him. “Yeah we’re together.”

Adam huffed. “Since when? For how long? Where did you two meet?”

Ten smirked. “Are you taking a survey or something?” He brushed his lips across your jaw, making you shiver. “The only thing that matters is that she’s mine. Let’s dance, Y/N.”

“I would love to,” you replied with a smile. You were also grateful he’d remembered your name.

You climbed off of his lap and took his hand, sending Adam a you thought look before pulling Ten out into the thick of the crowd. Your heart was beating a mile a minute but you felt too giddy to pay much attention to it. Plus, you knew Adam was watching you like a hawk and you didn’t want to let on how nervous you actually were. If he found out you were lying he’d never leave you alone and consider you pathetic to boot. Besides the nice buzz that was finally creeping down your spine told you everything would be fine. How could it not be?

Ten’s hands settled low on your hips and he gave you a little tug, pulling your back to his chest. You fit rather perfectly with him, his chin brushing the top of your head. Picking a rhythm in the song that thumped with bass, you began to move together. You rolled your ass against him and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, focusing on his breath as it ghosted across your neck. A silver of light wouldn’t have been able to get between you.

Normally you wouldn’t have dared to do something like this with a near stranger but your desire to make your ex suffer was bigger than your nerves. Besides Ten appeared to be all in on the ruse; his body twisting and curving in sync with yours, fingers on his right hand sliding up between your breasts to wrap lightly on your throat. His teeth nipped at your earlobe and you gasped. Reached around to his side to clasp his shirt for an anchor. You heard him chuckle and suddenly you were spun away from him only to be reeled back in, this time face to face.

The room felt like it was two hundred degrees. You weren’t exactly wearing much—a slinky black dress with tiny ties at the hem—but even that seemed too much. Without missing a beat though you and Ten continued to grind with one another, his thigh just barely pushed between your own. Every time you swayed forward to meet him the denim of his jeans rubbed deliciously against you, sending sparks sprinting through your veins. Both of his hands were on your ass as if helping to guide you, and as you met his gaze you couldn’t help but bite your lip at what you saw there. Desire, lust, hunger—no one had ever looked at you like that before. Like they could just devour you and still not have enough of you.

It made you feel powerful.

You grinned and wrapped an arm around his neck, fingers giving his hair a little tug. He hissed and lowered his head so that he could mouth at your bare shoulder, hands squeezing your ass so hard it nearly hurt. You weren’t sure when you started to get wet—maybe it was the moment you sat on his lap or he decided to play along with your dumb stunt—but you could tell it now. Your panties were sticking to you, your skin was on fire and it was becoming difficult to think straight. Honestly however you didn’t want to think at all, especially not if it meant not being in Ten’s orbit.

“Ten,” you whispered into the skin under his jaw.

He hummed, the sound vibrating through your body. You plastered your hand to his chest and pulled it down, nails catching on the thin material of his shirt until they were brushing along the zipper on his jeans. You gave him a quick squeeze—he was hard and straining—and he cursed loudly. Between one second and the next he was dragging you down a dimly light hallway, past kissing couples and one guy passed out drunk in the doorway of someone’s room. He swung you both into the first vacant room he came to; a lavish bathroom at the very back of the house. The door was closed with a swift thump and the lock clicked shut.

You licked your lips as he crowded you back into the counter, looking down at you with a tiny smirk. That part of your brain that yammered on about bad decisions was surprisingly quiet, so you figured it was beyond okay to pull him down for a kiss. As with most of the stuff he did, Ten was a damn good kisser. His mouth was soft and warm, his tongue playful and coaxing. He kissed you like he’d been waiting to kiss you for a long time. Until it grew deep and sensual. Until you were both panting with the need for air but neither wanting to let go of the moment.

With a gasp you tilted backwards a bit, your knees suddenly weak. “Fuck me,” you said absently.

“Can I?” Ten asked, chest heaving. “Can I fuck you?”

“God yes,” you replied, already pulling your dress up until it hitched around your waist.

Ten hooked his thumbs onto the band of your pink panties and slid them down your legs, laying them next to the sink. He looked you over with that same eye he used for his art but you could tell he liked what he saw. You grabbed his hand and brought it between your legs, spreading them wider for him. Two of his fingers slipped inside of you without any resistance to find you damp and aching, already so hot for him. He started a lazy rhythm—in and out, in and out—like he was in no hurry at all. Like he wasn’t driving you crazy all the way down to the tips of your toes.

He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he touched you, lips slightly parted like he couldn’t believe this was happening. That rang true for both of you. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d ever really be friends with Ten, let alone about to hook up with him. It was like you’d stumbled into some alternate universe.

Bringing his free hand up to your cheek, he smoothed his thumb across your lips, pressing lightly until you let him in. You sucked his thumb into your mouth and gave it a little nip, smiling when he smirked. When he deemed it wet enough, he pressed it to your clit and you moaned, your hips stuttering upward with a will of their own. He began a firm massage, working your clit this way and that, fingers still thrusting in their maddening motion. Of course he’d be great with his hands. Of course he’d be able to play your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Pressure started to build low in your stomach. “I—I’m…”

“Turn around.” Ten took a step back and made a show of sucking his fingers into his mouth, tongue darting out to lick between them like he wanted to savor every drop.

You whimpered but did as he requested, your eyes finding his in the wide silver mirror. You watched as he unzipped his pants and pushed them along with his dark colored briefs down to the floor. You hadn’t seen him pull out a condom but he had one; ripping open the packaging with his perfectly straight teeth before rolling it onto his hard cock. It was a delicious looking thing you had to admit, long and thick with a slight curve. If you’d had the time you would have gladly went to your knees for him.

A low breath shuddered out of Ten’s lungs as he pushed inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so strongly you were bound to have a few bruises later. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It had been a while since Adam and nobody after him until now.

When he assumed you’d adjusted to the size of him, he pulled nearly out before driving back inside of you. You moaned and pushed back to meet his thrusts, feeling the pleasure shattering through you. Your breasts bounced as he moved and he reached a hand forward, tugging down the top of your dress so that he could cup one. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and pinched, bending over you so that he could bite down onto the tender skin of your shoulder. The motion sent him even deeper and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Te—Ten,” you stammered, losing your train of thought when he rolled his hips liked he did on the dance floor. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

The picture you made in the mirror was a very erotic one; you could see every single expression on Ten’s handsome face. The utter enjoyment he was obviously finding in fucking you was written all over it; there was nowhere for it to hide. His head was tipped back, eyes fluttering closed only to pop back open so that he could watch himself shove into you over and over again. He had you up on your tip toes, nose just an inch from the mirror itself. He was always sexy but tonight that word took on a whole new meaning.

All you could do was try to give as good as you got.

You slapped a hand onto the sink to steady yourself and clenched around him, reveling in the low whine that escaped his throat. It kinda sounded like your name.

And then he was pulling all the way out, dick bouncing as he stumbled backwards. You blinked in confusion. “Wh--what’s wrong?”

Ten ran his fingers through his hair. “C’mon. I want you to ride me.”

He sat down on the closed toilet seat lid and you straddled him without a second thought, sinking down onto his dick with a full body shudder. With your dress around your waist and your breasts jiggling in his face as you bounced up and down on his cock, he traced his tongue around your nipple before lightly biting down. You tangled your fingers in his hair and panted out his name, letting out a squeak when his palm connected with your ass for a hard slap. Planting his feet on the floor, he leaned you backwards a bit as he drove into you repeatedly, eyes watching how well your pussy took him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured against your collarbone. “Gorgeous—you feel so good.” He bit you again, this time on the side of your neck. “So good.”

With one hand on his shoulder to brace yourself, you rose up and let yourself come down hard over and over again, feeling him pound so deep it was almost criminal. Had the music not been so loud you knew exactly what you would have heard; the sound of skin hitting skin as Ten fucked you like he owned you. Just for tonight, maybe he did.

You weren’t sure how long it went on but when you came it still managed to take you by surprise. Your body lit up like a Christmas tree from the inside out and you cried out Ten’s name, clenching around him, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. He muttered a drawn out fuuuuck and pinched your clit with this thumb and forefinger, making you jerk so hard you nearly tumbled off his lap.

“Ah! Ten!” You shouted as he kept it up. “I—no—oh god—”

Your pussy tightened around him again and he shivered, thrusts growing erratic as he came with a grunt. You trembled through a second orgasm almost in disbelief—usually the only thing that could get you off twice in a row was hidden under your bed in a shoe box.

Seconds later you flopped against him, attempting to catch your breath. He was still rolling his hips just a tiny bit, making all the too sensitive areas ping.

“Whoa,” he said breathlessly, wrapping both arms around your waist. “That was…”

You chuckled softly. “Yeah…” Chancing a look at him, you admired the way strands of his dark hair stuck to his sweaty forehead. He was glistening, shirt sticking to his chest. He smelled like hints of your perfume and you smelled like hints of his cologne. It was all so intimate.

Reluctantly you sat back and gazed at him, wondering if things were about to get awkward. But Ten just smiled and ducked his head a little, a barely there blush creeping up into his already flushed cheeks. It was so adorable you couldn’t have resisted kissing him if you tried. From the way he melted into you, he’d had the same idea.

After a few minutes of just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours, you forced yourself up off of him. Your legs shook; you had to grab the counter to keep from tripping in your heels. You could already tell you’d still feel him tomorrow and the thought made you kinda dizzy, but in a good way. Blinking at your reflection—your hair was a dark mess—you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the love bites that adorned your skin. They stood out stark red and purple like a bruise.

Ten remained slouched on the toilet for a couple of moments before removing the condom and tossing it into the trash. He dabbed at his dick with a handful of toilet paper, and then pulled up his underwear and jeans. “So…can I ask you something?”

You fixed your dress. “Sure.”

“Who was that guy?” he inquired with a grin. “The one you obviously wanted to get away from.”

Oh shit you’d forgotten all about Adam! “Oh he—he’s my dumb ex. He jumped stupid at me and I—I wanted to show him that he’s an idiot. That I’m totally over him. I—I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

He laughed as he patted down his hair. “No complaints from my end. I think he got the message though.” Reaching behind you he handed you your panties. “Don’t wanna forget these.”

It was ridiculous to be embarrassed considering what you’d both just done, but you couldn’t help it. You took them from him and pulled them on, keeping your eyes on the ground. “Thanks… Look Ten—”

“I’m hungry,” he said interrupting you. “Have you ever had grilled dried pollack?”

“Um yeah once I think,” you replied uncertainly. “It was pretty tasty.”

Ten motioned behind him. “I know a place that makes it if you wanted to go. And…maybe afterwards we could just hang out. Talk.”

That sounded amazing. “I’d love to. But…”

He picked up on your meaning. “Y/N I sit next to you in all of our art classes. I make conversation with you for no reason. Do you really think I of all people forget my brushes? Honestly I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while but you’ve always seemed…disinterested.”

You were dumbstruck by his admission. “Me?! That’s just my face! You’re the unattainable ingénue or whatever!”

Ten chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “Oh please the only thing standing between me and being a serious cat dad is having an apartment that allows animals. However, this conversation is pointless. You owe me and I’m collecting…if that’s okay?”

You huffed but couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s perfect.”

The walk from the bathroom to the living room had everyone staring with a few people letting out loud whistles. Adam had disappeared but Amy was there to give you a big thumbs up. You promised to call her later and then let Ten pull you outside into the warm night air, your fingers happily entwined with his.

#wayv ten #ten imagines #wayv smut #ten scenarios #ten x reader #ten smut #nct scenarios #ten oneshot #wayv imagines #woc reader #wayv ten imagines #ten lee #wayv au #nct au

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit?

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

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aereres · 3 years

Text

Wedding Shenanigans - Jack Hughes

Summary: After getting paired with the one and only Jack Hughes at your best friend's wedding, the night takes a sharp turn.

A/N: This was something small I wrote for a friend a while ago and she pushed me into posting it! I hope you like it! Everyone in this fic is 21+

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: plotless smut, swearing.

“Kelly, get in that damn dress,” you stated, ignoring the groomsmen walking into the room as you pushed your best friend towards the dress. “You’re going to be late,”

“I have to assign you girls to your dates, first,” Kelly mumbled, scrambling for the paper inside her bag. “Jen, you’re with Trevor,”

You let Kelly's voice become background noise as you smoothed the soft fabric of her dress, taking a good look at it. “Kourtney with Bowen. Melany with Alex,”

“And Y/N with Jack,”

“Jack who?” You asked, your voice taking that sarcastic tone you knew too well as you finally grabbed the dress for her.

“Jack Hughes, dummy,” Y/N chuckled. “If only you turned around and paid attention to me,”

With a playful huff, you turned around to face her, your eyes finally meeting Jack’s. His light orbs stared back at you, what you could only guess was a smirk painting his face as he gave you a once-over.

“Hi,” you said, voice soft, almost whispered.

“Hey,” was all the man said, his voice already making the coil inside your stomach tighten. You snapped out of your thoughts with a shake of your head, looking back at your best friend with a playful pointed look.

“Now, get in your dress, missy,” you said, squeezing her hand tightly. “And don’t you dare to make me cry,”

-----

By the time the entire ceremony and dinner were over, you were more than ready to get yourself on the dance floor and dance the night away.

Was it going to be with Jack? You didn't know. But you were hoping so.

You had watched Melany and Alex look like shy teenagers the entire evening: stealing looks from each other, letting their hands touch every once in a while, laughing awkwardly at the other's jokes.

It was weirdly entertaining - you were going to admit it - to see a 5’11 man acting like a teenager in love with the bride's cousin. You knew you were going to laugh at it for years.

"It's fucking boring in here," Jack coughed out from your side, making you stop nursing your glass of red wine and turn around to face him.

"It's a wedding, Jack," you chuckled, downing the liquid left inside your flute. "We'll probably be heading to the dance floor in a few minutes. Don't be such a baby,"

You met his eyes with a smirk as he readjusted his body on the chair, his legs spreading as he looked at you with a challenging look.

"Doesn't look like you're having fun either," he commented, eyes moving along your body as he kept talking. "You've been drinking your sobriety away for at least an hour,"

"The wine is so good, shouldn't be wasting it, right?"

He chuckled, shaking his head as his hand grasped your knee, making you jump in shock. Your widened eyes met his at the feeling of his hand inching upwards, roughly stopping on your inner thigh.

"Watch your tone, Y/N," he whispered in your ear, voice an octave deeper as his fingers drew shapes close to the space where you needed him the most. "You don't wanna mess with me,"

"Maybe I do, though," you were able to breathe out, eyes snapping shut in a moment of weakness before you opened them again, remembering just then you were still in the middle of a venue. Well, with a guy's hand between your legs.

"Shouldn't have said that,"

Your eyes snapped to his as he squeezed your thigh. "We both know there's a room down that hall," he said, decently pointing towards one of the many hallways that led to the main part of the venue. "A room nobody uses,"

Your heart started beating against your ribcage as you realized where the night was leading. "I want you to get in that room and wait. Can you do that for me?"

He had put you back in your place, and you submissively nodded your head, getting rid of the napkin resting on your legs before standing up. Your legs felt wobbly as you walked towards the room, the darkness of the hallway being enough to hide you from unwanted eyes.

You closed the door behind yourself, nervously playing with the skin around your fingers as you waited for something to happen, for him to come in. Just as you were about to leave the room and see if Jack had only been playing with you, the door opened and closed in a second, Jack's cologne filling your nostrils.

His body caged yours against the nearest wall, his eyes boring deeply into yours as his breath fanned against your face, his nose touching yours. "You don't know what you're going after, baby,"

Your breathing was ragged as your fingers grabbed his collar, pushing him closer to you and finally letting your lips touch. All the pent-up tension you had built during the night started to finally release, resulting in you having enough courage to palm his crotch over the soft material of his slacks.

He groaned loudly in your ear, his lips finding the skin of your neck. His movements were slow, teasing; they made you unable to resist him even more.

There was something about him, and you knew it.

You found yourself dropping to your knees, tugging the button of his pants open and awkwardly sliding them down his legs along with his boxers. His hard-on was close to your face, it made your mouth salivate. His palms against the wall were keeping him balanced as he looked down at you, a smirk on his face as he let one of his hands card through your hair.

You hesitantly sucked on his tip, looking up at him as you waited for his reaction before letting him hit the back of your throat, a small gagging noise filling the room. His low moan had you addicted, it had you wanting for more. Your movements became quicker, more erratic, and you were so into him that you almost forgot to breathe.

"Slow down, princess. Take your time," Jack said from above you, his smirk making your heart flutter. You slipped his cock out of his mouth for just a few seconds, taking in a deep breath before diving back in. His hand was gripping your hair tightly in a makeshift ponytail, helping your movements on his member as he let himself give in to the pleasure. Oh, did the night just take a turn.

You weren't expecting to be pulled off his cock so quickly, but he tugged you away, helping you back on your feet before lifting you up in his arms and continuing your make-out session.

"I want to taste this pretty pussy-" he mumbled, his fingers playing with your drenched lips after pushing your panties to the side.

"You'll do it later tonight. Now, just fuck me, Jack," was all you breathed out, your head leaning against the wall as he teased you, chuckling into your ear.

His tip teased your clit, tracing small circles around it as he watched your face contort in pleasure. His dick then reached your opening, waiting a few seconds before gently thrusting inside of you, stretching you out. You loudly moaned, gripping his shoulders as he began thrusting, the angle feeling amazing. He was thicker than you had thought, and it felt like heaven.

You let him take over, sending you into a frenzy as you tried to keep your moans to a low, your hands getting lost in his messy curls. "I want to hear you moan for me," he said, his voice low as his deep thrust left you breathless. "Whose cock is making you moan, baby?"

"Yours-" you breathed out.

"Yours what?"

"Yours, sir,"

His hand gripped your ass tightly as he quickened his movements even more, his cock tapping against your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. Everything became too much, and when his thumb started moving against your clit, you were done. You came with a strangled moan, your face hiding in the crook of his neck as he kept thrusting inside of you, reaching his own release with a groan.

He held you close to him for a little more, his forehead sweaty as he kissed you again, his hands smoothing your dress down your middle.

He left the room quickly, leaving you on your own to clean yourself up before you also joined him outside. You found out just then that everyone had left the main part of the venue to reach the dance floor, so you were safe to put yourself back together before joining the rest of the guests.

In front of a mirror you found, you started fixing your hair, noticing your flushed face and sweat-stained forehead.

"So, later tonight?" Jack said from beside you, fixing his tie with a smirk as he quoted your words.

"Don't get your hopes up," you hissed back, looking at the small love bite he had left on your shoulder. "Your ego is already too big for you,"

"My room or yours?"

“Hey there!” A familiar voice yelled, making you turn around to face your best friend and her husband with a shocked look. "We were wondering where you had gone,”

“You didn’t see anything!” You yelled back, pointing a finger her way warningly as she walked away. Just as she turned the angle, you grabbed Jack by the collar of his shirt again and kissed his lips hungrily.

"Yours,"

Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @captaindaddies @keithseabrook27 @heatherawoowoo

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #nhl #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #hockey imagine #jack hughes imagine

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clefairymuke · 3 years

Text

regrets | chapter ten

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairings: levi ackerman x reader / eren jaeger x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 2135

You took a few steps on your own today. It was fleeting before you fell on your ass, but it was progress nonetheless. You were grateful to hear Hange's excited squeals, and Jean and Connie's brotherly encouragement, but it felt difficult to allow a smile to cross your face. Something was bothering you today.

When Jean dropped you off, you saw no sign of Levi despite the setting sun. You were alone with your thoughts for what felt like the first time in a while; six days felt so long to you for some reason, and the past month felt like at least a year. Something had been nagging at the back of your mind all day -- distracting you from your physical therapy, preventing you from laughing with your friends, allowing unneeded stress into your already overwhelmed mind.

That morning, on your way to meet Hange, you were hanging from Jean's arm as you limped through the growing grass. He was still making jokes about Levi, now calling him your boyfriend, but you entertained it. The two of you could barely get any words in between your howls of laughter, until a single pair of green eyes managed to ruin your mood completely. Eren was sat atop a wooden fence, Armin sitting crosslegged on one side of him while Mikasa stood on the other. You let your eyes dance freely over to him for a second, but that was an awful decision. He was already looking at you intently. He offered you a small smile, but you could see that his eyes were sad. You smiled back.

Even if you didn't want to be with Eren, it still hurt that he never came back to talk to you. As you stared at the ceiling above, you wondered if you were a bad person. Eren was a good guy, you thought, and you did lead him on to some extent. You wondered for a moment if you should've given it a chance, then shook your head at yourself. It would be completely unfair to him to pretend you felt something that you didn't; then again, the current situation wasn't fair to him either. You were perpetually trapped between a rock and a hard place.

You rubbed your eyes before running both hands through your hair, pulling just slightly. You found yourself, strangely enough, wishing that Levi was there. It was nice to have someone that you could talk endlessly to and yet still share long, comfortable silences. He was decent company. Your ears and face perked up as you heard the door start open, but it wasn't Levi.

"Hey, can we talk?" Eren stood timidly in the doorway awaiting your answer, his face drawn in like he was expecting a harsh "no." Blood rushed to your cheeks, and you sat up hurriedly. You were sure that your anxiety was prominent on your face.

"Yeah, of course," you answered calmly, attempting to regain your composure. Eren walked in and took a seat in Levi's chair, looking down. It reminded you of how he looked when you rejected him -- defeated, yet still attempting to maintain his pride. He opened his mouth many times before he actually began to speak, leaving you wondering if you should be the one to start this dreaded conversation.

"I'm sorry for leaving like that, and for not coming back. I --" he coughed like something was caught in his throat. "Um, sorry. This is a little bit awkward for me," he chuckled uncomfortably, shifting in his seat. "I just wanted to take a few minutes to talk about it."

"Yeah, for sure," you gulped. Your vision flitted desperately around the room for anything to latch onto besides his sad green eyes. "I wanted to say I'm sorry, you know. I didn't know you felt that way; honestly, I didn't know if I felt that way, either. I liked things the way they were. I never meant to hurt you," you told him, your racing heart beginning to beat a smidgen more slowly. You tried your best to smile at him. It likely came off as more of a frown.

He nodded slowly, his eyes still brimming with melancholy and his face still tense as stone. "I liked things the way they were, too. I shouldn't have tried to take it further; I guess I just felt like we were going somewhere. I shouldn't have left you here like that either. I just wish none of this would've ever happened," he admitted, rubbing between his glassy eyes with his right hand. "The time we spent together was always really nice, wasn't it?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you nodded. "It was." You could feel it coming before it came, a feeling of pure dread washing over you as he leaned closer toward you. You felt the smallest bit of curiosity join in, too.

"I miss you," he confessed quietly as his lips closed in on yours. When you allowed him to kiss you, you didn't expect it to be so passionate. His hand caressed your cheek so gently, and his lips slid past yours so softly. His other hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing circles. It all felt so -- wrong. When he pulled away, you knew without a doubt how you felt. Entertaining it would help nothing. You sighed internally, wondering how to let him down a second time.

"Eren, I don't know --" He shushed you, clearly misunderstanding your tone. He started to lean in again, and you swallowed. "Eren, I don't want this." He leaned away quickly, taking his hands away from your body to land defeatedly in his lap.

You saw a tinge of anger in his eyes before he cast them to the floor. You fidgeted awkwardly and wondered what to say next, but he beat you to it. "You're hard to read, you know. It seemed like you really wanted me -- before I said I wanted you, at least. Is that what did it? Did I move too fast?"

If there's anything you knew, it was to take an out when you had one. "Yeah, honestly. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't. Regardless, though, I don't feel that way about you. I'm not sure if I would have, but honestly, probably not." It was the truth; you considered for a moment that he had you all figured out. Then again, how could he know more about you than you did? The two of you had messed around for what, a week and a half?

"Ouch." You watched his previously soft and sad face harden into anger. "I wish you wouldn't have led me on like this. I wouldn't have done anything with you if I didn't feel at least something small. You should be ashamed."

You drew in a quick breath, bordering on a gasp, as your mind raced to find a suitable reply. The hatred dripping from his voice left your mouth slightly agape, hundreds of words forming behind your tongue but never reaching past your lips. You felt small tears prick at your eyes; whether they were from sadness, anger, or shame was unknown to you.

"I think it may be time to go, Eren," you heard Levi speak from the door, two teacups in one hand and the pot in the other. How incriminating. You figured Levi thought nothing of it -- he rarely ever saw the same nuance behind certain gestures that others tended to notice, like a young, female soldier having nightly tea with her superior after being reprimanded for having sex with another scout while on duty. You hoped Eren was too angry to notice.

He wasn't. He looked up at you, eyes still full of anger but his mouth drawn up in disgust. He got up rather roughly, the chair rattling a bit as he stalked toward the door. "Thanks for the talk. Goodnight, Captain," he muttered as he left.

Levi strode in like nothing had happened, setting up the table and taking a seat, as he had done five times before. You stared at him, knowing your eyes were still widened. When he began to pour the tea, you struggled to hold in a laugh. He paused, looking over at you inquisitively. "Did I do something funny?" he asked, concerned. You watched the eyebrow lift. Always that eyebrow.

"Oh, Levi," you sighed. "You brought a tea set to my infirmary room when no one is typically here, and someone saw you. The fact that you showed up at all is incriminating."

Levi scoffed, continuing to pour the tea. "I thought something serious was happening. Not everyone has a mind like you and Jean. I doubt that it would be anyone's first thought." He set the pot down and looked back up at you. He rested his arms on either side of the cup, shaking his head.

"It was the first thought in Eren's. Didn't you see how angry he looked?" you questioned. Surely, you thought, he wasn't that oblivious.

"Sure it was. Eren's always angry. Plus, he was jealous," he said bluntly, finally taking a sip of his tea. Everything he did was so nonchalant.

It stung a little, being pulled back to your conversation with Eren. You hated how angry he was, but you figured nothing could be done. You nodded, sighing, and lifted your cup in response to him. "Yeah, he was pretty upset."

"He wasn't upset, he was pissed. He wasn't being very polite to you, and you looked like you were about to cry. How long had he been on like that?" One thing you had learned about Levi that you didn't know before is that he was incredibly curious.

"You showed up pretty much as soon as he got angry. Before that he was all sad and stuff. It took him a while to actually understand what I was trying to tell him," you told him, the tiniest bit embarrassed. Talking to Levi was easy, but not without its reservations.

"And you were trying to tell him . . .?"

"When I first got hurt, Eren came to see me. He started talking about how I meant a lot to him. I guess you could say it freaked me out. I told him I didn't feel the same way and basically broke things off," you began, one hand tugging at your hair. Levi listened intently.

"That's a valid reaction," he commented as he sipped his tea. "I would do the same."

Joke or otherwise, it drew a laugh out of you before you continued. "He stormed out, and I hadn't spoken to him since, until today. He showed up unannounced and told me he wanted to talk. I was a little embarrassed and anxious, but I didn't mind it. I didn't have any issues with him being here."

"Of course not."

"So we talked about it. I was trying to avoid hurting his feelings, but I think he completely misunderstood. I was trying to tell him that I don't feel that way about him. Instead of getting that and moving on, he goes the other route and tells me he misses me. Then he kissed me. I started to tell him that I didn't know if I was comfortable with that, but he just tried to kiss me again. He finally got it when I told him no, and that's when he got pissed off. That's when you showed up." You drank from your cup, waiting for Levi's response. It was unlikely, you thought, but maybe he had some advice.

He sat there for a moment, thinking. After a few long seconds, he set down his teacup and reached his hand out to you. The gesture was foreign, but not nearly as foreign as the feeling when his fingers brushed your knuckles and his palm came to rest on the back of your hand. None of the rest of his body moved, no leaning in or smirking lips. Just a single comforting touch. "Are you okay?" he asked as you stared conspicuously at his hand atop yours.

You nodded your head at him. "I'm fine. I just wasn't looking forward to that conversation. It didn't go nearly as well as I had hoped," you admitted, chewing the inside of your lip. "It was pretty upsetting when he spoke to me that way."

He pulled his hand away and went back to his tea, his eyes understanding. "It'll be fine. I don't think you were in the wrong, if that helps anything."

You weren't really listening, still staring down at your hand. The warmth from his hand was fading, but something else wasn't. It tingled all over, in every spot he had touched.

How strange.

#levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager #Eren Jaeger #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #AoT #snk x reader #snk #shingeki no kyojin #slowburn #enemies to lovers #aot fic

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mianavs · 3 years

Text

Gezellig

You were the warmth that only another person could give

Kenma x f!reader

a/n: kenma is definitely my comfort character~

wc: 1.8k

It started with an apple pie recipe.

Kenma was editing his latest play-through video for a new video game when the craving for his favorite food creeped up on him again. He considered going to the nearby bakery that sold decent mini apple pies but a glance at the clock on his computer put an end to that idea—it was midnight and the bakery had been closed for three hours.

Normally Kenma would have settled for the day old pastry on his kitchen table but the craving for apple pie had plagued him for a while now. The reason? His neighbor had baked one a couple days ago and Kenma couldn’t stop thinking about the delicious aroma that had seeped through the walls into his unit.

A hasty thought crossed Kenma’s mind and he got up from his gaming chair to wander into the kitchen. He scanned the counters until his eyes landed on the two large apples Kuroo dropped off along with other groceries Kenma let spoil more often than not. The presence of the main ingredient spurred his impulses and Kenma fell back onto his couch as he scrolled through YouTube for an easy apple pie recipe. His perceptive eyes were immediately drawn to the golden crust of the pie on your thumbnail and his fingers clicked on your video without a second thought.

In the end, Kenma never got to making the apple pie and instead binge-watched every video on your ASMR cooking channel until he passed out at five in the morning.

Kenma knew he was obsessed when he turned on the notification bell on your channel. He loved the simplicity of your videos. There wasn’t any cheesy background music or obnoxious text. Your videos were intimate and comforting with the natural sounds of your cooking or baking and the high-quality recordings. More often than not, Kenma found himself unwinding to your content after a stressful meeting with the board members or a difficult gaming session. In fact, the more he watched your videos the more he found himself closing his eyes and imagining himself in your kitchen listening to the sizzling of the sautéing vegetables or the whir of your mixer combining the ingredients of a cake. It wasn’t necessarily hard to do since the layout of your kitchen was very similar to his own.

He should have found it suspicious when his neighbor’s cooking seemed to predict the video you would upload next but Kenma wasn’t one to dwell on unnecessary things like that. So when his neighbor cooked a delicious smelling recipe, Kenma would crave it the next day and ordered it to eat while he watched your nimble hands cook a similar dish.

In the two years Kenma had lived in his unit, he’d never crossed paths with his foodie neighbor. Although considering his line of work, Kenma supposed it wasn’t too surprising. He spent most of his time in his office and only when out when necessary. So when his doorbell rang and it wasn’t Kuroo with groceries or takeout but a young woman with a sheepish look on her face, Kenma froze like a deer in headlights.

“Hi! Umm…I’m your neighbor,” she introduced herself and awkwardly held up a small bowl. “Do you have some salt I can borrow?”

“Uh…yeah, come in.” Kenma replied stepping aside to let her in. There was a softness about her demeaner that drew him in and it wasn’t until her eyes blinked at him in confusion that he realized he’d been staring.

“T-this way.”

As Kenma led his neighbor to the kitchen he wracked his brain for the location of the salt container Kuroo had bought for him to use despite never having cooked a meal in his life. It took a couple of tries flipping through cupboards before he found the large salt container and handed it to his neighbor.

“Thanks!” She accepted it and began pouring some into her bowl. “Y’know your kitchen is a lot like mine but way cleaner!”

“I don’t really use it,” Kenma admitted. “I find it kind of intimidating…cooking.”

“It is at first but it gets easier the more you do it.” She smiled as she handed the salt back to Kenma and he couldn’t help but admire the way her entire face seemed to smile. Her eyes crinkled into crescent moons while the apples of her cheeks framed her gummy smile endearingly.

“I guess that applies to a lot of things.”

“Yes, it really does! I’m a firm believer in practice makes perfect.”

With that she thanked Kenma profusely and apologized for the intrusion before slipping on her shoes and walking out the door. While it may have only been a few minutes, the impression she left on Kenma lasted much longer. He went outside more just so he could run into his nice neighbor who would always strike up a conversation with him about anything. And while he was normally not one for small talk, it never felt forced around her. She had a knack for making even the dullest subject a compelling topic and Kenma quickly looked forward to those moments outside their apartment complex, in front of the convenience store, or outside her unit.

But even those short conversations Kenma has with his neighbor reveal very little about her. So when Kenma gets a notification from your channel and opens YouTube, he drops his phone when your thumbnail picture isn’t food but rather his neighbor that he’d grown fond of. Kenma’s eyes dart to your shared wall as he comes to terms with the fact that his favorite content creator and his pretty neighbor are the same person. It takes a couple of minutes for the initial shock to pass and another twenty minutes for him to play the video in the comfort of his office and with his headset on.

You’re all smiles as you announce a giveaway to celebrate one-hundred thousand subscribers. You introduce each of the five prizes and explain each one in detail. They’re all cooking tools from one of your sponsors that Kenma recognizes from your previous videos. When you’re describing the rules to enter, the similarities between your apartment and his are glaringly obvious now and Kenma can only shake his head in disbelief. The video ends too quickly so he watches it another ten times almost convincing himself that it’s to understand the rules of the giveaway and consider each of the products despite knowing he’d never actually enter.

A week after your giveaway video, Kuroo comes over with food and drinks after a business trip. A meal and a couple of beers later, Kenma opens up to Kuroo about you and the fact that you’re not only his favorite YouTuber but his neighbor as well. The liquid courage spurs him on and Kenma talks about your gorgeous smile, soft-looking hair, and your laugh that goes from a giggle to a cackle within a matter of seconds. Always the observant friend, Kuroo notices the persistent smile on Kenma’s face as he goes on about you and urges his best friend to ask you out on a date. The thought of spending hours with you is enough to get his heart racing but his insecurities never fail to rear their ugly heads and Kenma dismisses the idea as quickly as it comes up.

Kenma drinks even more to drown his insecurities and fantasies of you while Kuroo drinks with him knowing it’s best to support him quietly like this. When the last drop of alcohol is consumed, the two friends are completely drunk and Kuroo crashes in the guest room while Kenma stumbles to his room and collapses on his bed as the world spins around him.

Your image comes to mind but it’s too hazy for Kenma’s liking so he pulls up your giveaway video and watches it for the hundredth time. You’re so happy about your channel’s milestone that Kenma can’t help but smile like a fool as you thank your subscribers profusely. It’s with lowered inhibitions that Kenma is able to scroll to the comment section and write out how much your channel means to him.

The sound of multiple notifications stirs Kenma awake to a terrible hangover. He rubs the sleep from his eyes and focuses on his blindingly bright screen to see what the fuss is about. There’s a message from his publicist asking if he’s okay but before Kenma can reply he gets a notification from your channel; however, it isn’t the typical one that lets him know you’ve uploaded a video. The notification is a heart reaction to a comment and Kenma’s heart is in his mouth as his shaky finger taps on your giveaway video.

He doesn’t have to scroll far to find his comment because it’s the first one with ten thousand likes and three hundred comments to boot. Completely mortified, Kenma reads through the comments that have a wide range of reactions. Some gush about how cute it is for Kodzuken to fanboy over your channel while others express their disappointment that their favorite gamer actually likes cooking ASMR. While they are unnerving, it isn’t the comments that worry Kenma but the little red heart you’d left on his comment.

While he doubts you knew who he was before, this comment and the crazy feedback will definitely pique your interest enough to look him up and find out who he really is. Scared of facing you, Kenma holes himself up in his apartment. To get you out of his mind, he buries himself in work and video game streams and turns off the notifications for your channel.

After a week of not hearing anything from you, Kenma thinks he’s in the clear until one evening he opens his door expecting his takeout only to find you.

You’re a sight for sore eyes and Kenma’s heart hammers in his chest as your eyes soften and you break into a smile. The aroma of cinnamon and apples wafts up to his nostrils and you raise your mitted hands to reveal the same pie that had drawn him to you in the first place.

“Your fans mentioned you like apple pie,” you explain with a chuckle. “And I still owe you for the salt.”

“My…fans?” Kenma asks, still stunned you’re talking to him despite the comment fiasco.

“Yeah, you see I needed a reason to visit my neighbor and ask him out. Luckily, he’s a famous streamer with lots of fans.” Your confidence almost hides flush on your cheeks that deepens the longer Kenma stares at you in shock.

“…Unless you don’t want to go out-“

“I do!” Kenma blurts out. “More than anything.”

Your entire face breaks into a smile. “Well then how about a pie date?”

With a stomach full of butterflies, Kenma lets you into his apartment for the second time only this time he knows what he feels for you and is comforted by the fact that you feel the same way.

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