#I WILL NEVER HOLD YOU BACK I SPENT A WHOLE ASS MINUTE CACKLING IN FRONT OF MY SCREEN BY READING THESE

[madschiavelique]

i’m obsessed with making these. someone hold me back

[aiiwa]

BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS ― IWAIZUMI, KUROO, BOKUTO, AND SUGAWARA.

✗ REQUEST: i’ve been seeing all over tiktok the whole lay between your s/o thighs trend (idk if you know the trend) but i wanted to see it with the hq boys. so could i request iwa, kuroo, bo and suga🥺.

― iwaizumi hajime, kuroo tetsurou, bokuto koutarou, sugawara koushi.

⤷ genre: fluff

⤷ warnings: suggestive content (everything i write at this point is suggestive lmao), i got lazy proof reading this but i’ll come back to it

⤷ word count: 3.1k

― a/n: i was very soft writing this hehe, also;

me to me: let’s limit this to 500 words per character

also me: almost writes 1k just on kuroo.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

after two long weeks apart, with iwa having to travel overseas for work, he had finally come back home to you. work trips weren’t uncommon, but often left you alone, missing him more and more with each day apart.

it took everything in your power to hold yourself back from jumping on him, the moment you caught sight of his bulky figure walking out of the airport terminal.

and now the two of you were on your way home. after bickering over who would drive, iwa now sat leaned back in the driver’s seat, large hand engulfing yours on your lap and the other gripping the leather steering wheel; skillfully maneuvering your car down the snowy streets. fiddling with his long fingers entwined between your own, you bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

glancing at you from the corner of his olive eyes, you could see his soft smile under the flickering glow of the streetlights. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, before his focus turns back to the road.

ten minutes pass relatively quickly, with iwa shifting the gear into park outside your shared home. he trails close behind you, warm breath tickling the side of your neck and duffle bag slung over his wide shoulder, as you unlock the front door.

“welcome home.” you whisper, tilting your face up to look at him.

iwa’s quick to drop his bag, spinning you around by your hips to pull you flush against him. wrapping your arms around his neck, you giggle at the feeling of his hands dipping lower to give your ass a loving squeeze.

“i missed you, baby.” he breathes out, before leaning down to capture your lips.

the kiss is sweet and slow, you indulge yourself in the familiar feeling of his soft lips; before his tongue darts out to trace against the pout of your bottom lip, asking for permission. you moan into him as your tongues brush against each other sensually, dragging your hand from his nape to caress his jaw; you jolt away as your palm brushes against the icy cold touch of his ear.

“haji! your ears are freezing!” you hiss, both hands now tugging at his ears.

chuckling lowly, he grabs at your wrists lightly. “ah, i know...why don’t you warm them up for me?”

“huh?”

overwhelming thoughts of how exactly iwa intended for you to warm his ears up, clouded your flustered mind. in a flurry of movements, he lead you into your bedroom; freeing you from the tight denim of your high-waisted pants, and having you perched up and leaning against your fluffed up pillows. the fuzziness in your head starts to clear up at the sight of iwa stripping off his long sleeved shirt, exposing the toned muscle of his stomach and chest.

crawling towards you and parting your legs, he presses a kiss to the inner side of your knee, before he flips over and slides his read right between your legs. you blink once, then twice, watching as he grabs your thighs, wrapping them around his neck and squishing his face.

“well, this...isn’t exactly what i was expecting.” rubbing your thighs against his ears to get used to the freezing touch.

iwa hums contentedly, patting the side of your leg. “mmm, don’t worry baby, we’ll save that for a bit later okay?” heat rushes to your face as he calls you out on your thoughts. “i just wanna lay here and feel you like this for now.” you push your hands against your face, feeling how warm your cheeks are, before iwa grabs at your wrists softly, bringing them over to kiss your palms. “just lie with me, okay baby?”

with your hands caressing the sides of his face, you nod, smiling softly. “okay, haji.”

KUROO TETSUROU

working together with kuroo for japan’s volleyball association was amazing. for the most part that is. it’s how the two of you met, he’d charmed you into a first date by his second week, and it was almost three years since then.

you spent every day with your boyfriend at work, and every night together in bed. but sharing a busy week schedule filled with back-to-back meetings, interviews with athletes for potential promotional videos, and late nights in the office filing the never-ending build up of paperwork - meant weekends were very much looked forward to.

lazy sundays being your favourite.

the day usually started well into noon, both of you enjoying the extra undisturbed hours of sleep - since the blare of kuroo’s six a.m. alarm wasn’t ringing in your ears. he’d greet you with a drowsy rasp - “good morning, shorty.” - making you giggle before dragging him to share a steaming hot shower with you; . and with a towel wrapped around your head, bare legs on show underneath the hem of your boyfriend’s large shirt, you’d sway in front of the stovetop flipping pancakes while a shirtless kuroo sliced up your favourite fruits - music from his playlist playing softly in the background.

if the weather allowed it, you and kuroo would sit out on the balcony of your apartment; basking in the warmth of the sun, admiring the way his hazel eyes reflected gold. yet this sunday, a storm was raging outside.

“why is she giving a rose to that prick yamato? fuji deserves it way more than him!” kuroo calls out.

you were only half invested in the bachelorette marathon playing. rain spat against the fogged glass; heavy lidded eyes followed the trails made by the racing raindrops. you were tucked snugly into kuroo’s side, a long arm wrapped around your shoulders, and legs tangled under the softness of the new periwinkle comforter you’d bought the other day. kuroo’s laptop rested on his lap, and you jostled about as he shot an arm out to point at the screen accusingly.

“are you seeing this, y/n?! now she’s choosing sachihiro! over fuji?!”

humming half-heartedly in response, you squeeze yourself closer to kuroo; dragging your hand over his bare chest, and resting it over his heart. you could feel his heartbeat against your palm, thump-thump thump-thump, and the steady rise and fall of his chest began to lull you to sleep.

the sound of your soft snores, pulled kuroo’s attention away from the show.

“shorty, you sleepin’?”

at your lack of reply, he chuckles lowly, shifting around to put away his laptop. you were always the first to fall back asleep, especially after eating good and coming back to bed to cuddle. pulling you closer to him, he smiled at the sigh you released against him; before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead and resting his cheek on his pillow. the smell of your strawberry shampoo wafting around him, was the last thing kuroo remembered before he joined you in the dream world.

laying on your side with half your vision obscured by the fluffy pillow under your head, you blink away the sleep as you gaze outside the window. the rain had come to a slow drizzle, with the skies still fairly bright meaning only an hour or so had passed while you were asleep.

“tetsu?” you call out.

usually the rooster head would be pressed right up against you, but you couldn’t feel or see him. attempting to twist your body around, you find your movements constricted. it was only when you tried once again to lift your leg up, that a hand slid around your knee to halt your movements.

pushing yourself up a bit, and resting on your elbow, you glance down to find your boyfriend’s head between your thighs, back of his head pushed against your pelvis. because the two of your are on your sides, the full weight of your left leg over his shoulder has his cheeks smushed together; but kuroo seems completely unbothered, in fact he’s just scrolling through instagram on his phone. when you reach a hand down to tug at his inky hair, only then does he glance up at you.

“are you alright down there?” you ask. “can you even breathe?”

“i woke up here, and i don’t plan on moving any time soon.” kuroo hums, the vibration from his throat are ticklish against your inner thighs. “i’m living my best life, wanna see my new lock screen?”

without waiting for an answer, he shows off his new lock screen - which really happened to be a live photo displaying a collection of pictures with kuroo’s face squeezed between your lush thighs. you can’t help but laugh, kuroo’s cackling joining you. slightly embarrassed at the thought of someone catching a glance at his lock screen, you pull at his hair; complaining about the possibility of being exposed.

kuroo slaps your hands away from his hair, still chuckling. “i don’t care, shorty. i look good between your thighs, don’t you think so?”

flustered, you yank on his hair again. “shut up, rooster head.”

BOKUTO KOUTAROU

while waiting for bokuto to come back home to you from his training with the msby jackals, the last thing you expected was to receive a call from his teammates. it was your day off, and as you were loading the last of you and bokuto’s laundry, your phone began to vibrate - the bright grin of a certain tangerine-haired cutie flashing across the screen.

“hello?”

“hi, bokuto-san- ah, um, i mean y/n-san!”

you chuckle lightly at hinata’s correction. ever since you announced your engagement with bokuto, the younger male had started addressing you by your fiancé’s surname. in the background you can hear atsumu yelling out to you, followed by sakusa complaining about his loud mouth. you were more than familiar with bokuto’s close friends and teammates, from the countless team dinners and nights of drinks hosted at you and bokuto’s townhouse, you shared a solid friendship with everyone.

“ah, shou-kun, everything okay?”

“um, well i just called to let you know that bokuto-san didn’t have the best time at training today.”

‘oh no, poor kou,’ you thought to yourself, heart tugging at the thought of bokuto being sad. his somber moods were a rarity these days; it had actually been almost a year since he’d been in a slump, and he usually loved his trainings, so that meant today must have been extra tough on him.

“i see, thank you for telling me shou-kun.” after listening to hinata’s retelling of the events at training, with side commentary from atsumu and sakusa; you all exchanged goodbyes before ending the call.

with the chance to avoid being unequipped for bokuto’s gloomy return home, you were grateful for hinata’s thought to warn you. it gave you an hour, from his shower to the drive back home, to prepare some of his favourite things. normally it involved inviting akaashi over, but with him out of town, it left you to your own devices. though after being with bokuto for so long, it wouldn’t be that hard.

you knew your man like the back of your hand.

he was probably starving after practice, and what better than to cook some barbecued meat for him - his favourite, with the special sauce you always made just for him. after making some side dishes and rice, you set the table for the two of you, leaving the meat to stay warm in the oven while you went for a quick shower. bokuto made it know how much he enjoys the smell of your cherry bomb body wash, yet today you opted to lather on his orange body wash. knowing the smell of him on you made him crazy, you dried yourself off and decided to wear his old shirt from high school; the baby blue of ‘the way of the ace’ shirt, with the faded black characters.

you had just finished throwing your softest blankets and fluffiest pillows onto the couch in the living room, when you caught the sound jingling keys at the front door. leaping over the back of the sofa, you ran just in time for the door to open.

“kou!” you exclaimed, leaping as soon as you see his bulky figure enter through the doorway. his gym bag landed on the wooden floors with a thud, as he caught you easily in his arms. “welcome home! i missed you so much, baby!”

bokuto’s hold on you is tight. “hi, y/n…” there’s none of the usual chirp in his voice, and you squeeze him closer to you, peppering kisses on his face.

“are you hungry? i made your favourite.”

offering him a small smile at his slight nod, you slid out of his grasp, taking his hand to lead him to the dining table. when he saw the table set, barbecued meats on display, he tugged you to a halt; staring at you with round, golden puppy eyes filled with appreciation. you sat on his lap as he ate, with your arm hooked around his neck; allowing him to feed you, as he listened to you talk about your day. and when the two of you were done, bokuto offered to finish off the dishes while you lounged on the sofa waiting for him, netflix loading on the wide screen television.

distracted by the trailer of some netflix original film, your caught by surprise when bokuto slides face first between your thighs. with his cheek pressed against your pelvis, he shifts your legs over his broad shoulders, thighs almost obscuring his face from your vision if it weren’t for the frosted tips of his hair sticking out. running your fingers through the slightly damp, silken strands; you felt you relax in your embrace, releasing a contented sigh.

“kou?” he hums in response, arms sliding around your thighs as he nuzzles his face into your smooth skin. “i know today wasn’t the best, but there’s always a tomorrow. just remember that i love you so much, and i’m here...okay baby?”

lifting his head slightly, thighs resting by his jaw, he sets his chin just below your navel. staring up at you, he takes your hands in his, slippings his fingers between yours.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispers, slightly mumbled. “thank you for everything.”

giving his hands a loving squeeze, you start explaining the new movie you want to watch. and with his interest piqued, the two of you spend the rest of the afternoon in the comfort of each other; bokuto tracings patterns on your leg, and your hands tangled in his hair.

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

it had been almost a month since you and suga’s return from your honeymoon. after spending an amazing three weeks on a tropical island with your newly wedded husband; strolling along sandy beaches, scuba diving in clear blue waters, and spending warm nights making love under the stars - it was safe to say you were missing the time away relaxing.

so when daichi called your husband during the week to make plans for the long weekend, you were more than happy for a mini getaway to tokyo with your old high school friends.

and that’s how you found yourself, guava oil spread across your skin, stretched out by the poolside, and sipping your umeshu tonic through a pink swirly straw. the boys had decided to take a dip and cool off in the pool, while you and kiyoko had taken to some sunbathing. it was a little after midday, scorching sun at its peak; and the golden rays captured the sparkle of the princess cut diamond of your engagement ring resting between two matching, diamond encrusted bands.

“you’re going to blind everyone with all those diamonds, y/n.” blinking away the daze you’d caught yourself in, you chuckle at kiyoko’s teasing.

“speak for yourself, soon-to-be-mrs-tanaka.” you shot back, nodding at the glimmering engagement ring on her own finger.

the two of you giggled like little school girls, cheeks flushed and eyes closed in mirth; only stopping when a sudden wall appeared, blocking the warm sunshine, and shadowing over you. the wall being none other tanaka, suga following behind.

“kiyo~!” tanaka coos, leaning over his fiancé. “you look hot- uh, i mean it’s pretty hot, y’know.” 

kiyoko simply raises an arched brow, listening to tanaka’s rambling; which quickly turned into the latter throwing the her over his shoulder, and running back towards the pool. she hadn’t even protested at his manhandling, taking to sending you a look that said ‘what can i do?’. with the two of them gone, your full attention was set on the sight of suga.

now standing next to you, his hazel-brown eyes glanced over your laid out figure in appreciation; entranced with the way your bikini top dug into the soft flesh of your breasts, drawing attention to the deep valley of your cleavage. your own keen eyes took in the sight of his slender build; admiring the way his soaked canary trunks hung low on his hips, polyester sticking to his thighs and leaving little to your imagination. with his chest exposed, glistening under the sun as droplets of water slid down his toned stomach - it suddenly felt as if the air had become ten degrees warmer.

“hey there, this seat taken?” suga asks, tilting his head and running a hand to push back the damp, grey strands out of his face.

“oh, this seat?” you ask, gesturing to the lounge chair you were occupying.

your brow’s furrow slightly in confusion, though you gasp when he trails ticklish fingers over your thigh, before squeezing the soft flesh. “no, this one.”

chuckling, you hold your left hand up, wiggling your jewelled ring finger in front of you. “sorry sir, i’m a taken woman.”

suga just grins at you cheekily, leaning forward to press his soft lips against your own. this kiss is brief, but the lingering taste of his mango chapstick and chlorine has you a bit dazed; allowing him to part your legs and slide himself right between them. laying on his stomach, your legs rest by his sides, his fingers teasing the hem of your bikini bottoms.

“ah yes, that you are, sweetheart. and i’m the lucky man who gets to call you mine.” with his cheek is smushed against your thigh, his words come out slurred; but the dreamy look in his eyes as he stares up at you is clear.

“and i’m lucky to have you, koushi.” you whisper in return, the weight of him over you is comforting and you find yourself leaning back into the lounger; as suga nestles himself closer into you.

“mmm, i love this...laying right here between your thighs, sweetheart.”

© 2020 AIIWA. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.

[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

���I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

[hotwings0203]

This is so utterly stupid but I have a few HC’s about Muslim Dabi(again obv this isn’t canon I just think it’s funny)

-Dabi would def be the type of Muslim dude who claims to be super religious cuz he never eats pork and “goes to the mosque to pray”(which is actually just code for hitting a blunt in the back of the parking lot w Hawks and Shigaraki💀), but yet smokes^^ and still has hella sex with like every other girl who bats her lashes at him from across the dining hall

-he also is a big cat lover, he claims since the Prophet Muhammad had cats of his own it’s sunnah to keep one

-on Eid namaz he’s the most dripped out one at the session, I’m talking black kurta dress, nice ass watch, slicked back hair...but funny enough, no one has actually seen him in line for the prayers themselves

-if he were back at home with the rest of the Todoroki’s, he’d most definitely be THE MOST spoiled one. Fuyumi would get on his ass for not cleaning the dishes, but he’d wave her off and tell her it’s training for her to be a better housewife for her future husband(cue a soapy sponge thrown at his head)

-Snitches.Constantly. Bro like this dude catches Shoto on his phone when he’s supposed to be doing a dua? Boom, instant callout followed by a long ass lecture about how he’s straying away from his religion and how he’s going to hell just because he spent one measly moment on his device instead of praising da lord

-Hes also always telling fuyumi to cover up her sleeves that come just a bittt before her wrists, claiming that she’s showing too much skin(especially when Hawks is over, that fucker’s got his eyes on every single one of his family members). But she’s quick to point out his secret tattoos, piercings, and hair dyes. He just scoffs and pulls the “women were created lesser than men so it’s okay for me to act a fool but not for you” card🙄stg I can’t stand him

-Since he’s the closest to Natsu, he’s always giving Eid money to him the most. The dude will slouch against his favorite brothers’ door, watching him play 2K. “What do you want?” Natsu asks with no real malice, not taking his eyes off the changing screen, furiously clicking away on his controller. “Mom says you gotta iron your clothes, Fuyumi’s doing her own so she can’t do yours as well. Oh, and Eid Mubarak by the way.” Natsu pauses him game and stands to stretch his arms above his head, groaning at the tendons popping in place on his back. “Yeah man, you too-what’s that?” He points to a fat parcel in Touya’s hand. The white-haired boy grins and chucks the bulging package at him, which Natsu catches easily. His eyes widen when he tears open the cream-colored paper envelope and reveals dozens of bills exceeding the usual 5-10$ family limit. “Yo, what-how-thanks Touya!” He sputters, throwing the package on his bed and throwing an arm around his brothers’ back in a man-hug. Touya rolls his eyes and barely suppresses a smile at Natsu’s excitement,(something he’s always wanting to be the source of) pounding his back to let go before he asphyxiates. He lets go and Touya smirks before heading towards the door, calling out over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’d thank Sho-turd as well while you’re singing my praise.” Natsu stops in his tracks and looks suspiciously at the withdrawing slender figure. “Why?”. Touya’s voice is distant as he moves to close and lock his door. “‘Cuz it’s his money after all.”

-The two brothers are always waking up at Sehri the earliest in Ramadhan, just so they can scarf down a majority of the food in the fridge and go to sleep without having to interact with the rest of their family at sunrise. And in the case that their family DOES wake up in time to see them chomping down food made for a WHOLE FAMILY and not just two boys, Touya is quick to grab his keys and jacket and cackle that him and Natsu are going to iHop to eat some more. Natsu ofc is quick to follow pursuit, throwing an apologetic grin towards his parents and other siblings.

-When they’re at the mosque and Enji has somehow bullied him enough to sit the hell down and actually ATTEND the lectures for once, Touya still has one up his sleeve. Planned out strategically, he always simpers to Rei that he wants to donate to the mosque, causing her eyes to water and a handful of cash thrown his way, her voice wobbly as she praises her son for actually taking the foundations of his religion seriously. Unbeknownst to her however, this just means that he’ll take a little bit more than he gives. Hawks will be standing at the front of the hall, bowing his head and using his silver tongue to graciously thank the many men and women who come forth to drop their allowance into the money basket. When he sees his best man approaching, he has to stop the smug grin from reaching his ears, instead slanting his brows and holding the basket out to the now black-haired thief. “Glad to see you’re taking eternal damnation seriously, for once,” Keigo flashes his perky whites and Dabi drops Rei’s money into the donation basket, dipping his hand a little lower for a second. “Glad to see you’re still standing here like some busboy peasant, as usual,” he fires back, the two boys catching each other’s eyes and stifling their cackles as the patched hand withdraws, a copious amount of bills in his hand, more than what he put in.

-100% steals shoes. Usually you hear about older men doing this, but age aint nothin’ but a number to Dabi, baby. “Nice kicks,” he nods to a boy Natsu’s age, noting the blue and black minimalist patterns adorning the shoes. The boy recognizes Dabi as one of the most revered figures at the mosque (and the most featured by adults. Who’d want their kid hanging out with the eldest Todoroki as an influence?) and bobs his head excitedly, spewing out the manufacture and release dates of the shoes. Dabi looks at the fanboy amusedly, continuing to lean against the shoe rack as more people crowd around and start to push the boy inside. “See you later Dabi!” The eccentric kid calls out as he’s pushed into the hall by grumbling uncles. The ravenette snickers fo himself, “Yeah, but you won’t be seeing these shoes anytime soon.”

-A notorious playboy in the community. Uncles glare at him, unable to scold him outright for his shenanigans due to his father’s close presence, and aunties steer their children away from him at dinner parties. Speaking of, Dabi’s at a dinner right now. He’s lighting up a joint in amongst 3 mesmerized girls sitting on the floor in front of him and 2 jealous dudes his age in a locked room, away from all the screaming little kids. “Wow Dabi, doesn’t it burn?” The youngest of the three girls asks him with imploring eyes. He smiles a charming smile down at her and he thinks he sees the other two swoon. “Nah, sweetheart, you get used to it after a little while. Don’t be like me though, keep yourself pure and clean,” he shoots a wink at them and they giggle, faces turning red. The other two boys sitting at the far end of the bed scowl at his successful flirting, but Dabi doesn’t care for any of them, honestly, they’re just target practice. Right as he inhaled the fumes of another puff, a little body throws itself at the door, banging its fists on the wood. “It’s time for food!” They all jump at the intrusion and chuckle as the intruder runs away, containing to scream about food being served. The group gets up to leave and exits through the door, but Dabi takes his time. He wasn’t done with his joint, and he has to waft the smell away anyways when he leaves. He’s opening a window to let out some air when he heads a soft shuffle from behind him. “Shows over guys, go eat-“ but when he turns around, the oldest girl of the three stands before him, fiddling with her hands and looking at the floor. “Um, Dabi? I know you said not to try it out by ourselves so...I was wondering if you could-if you could teach me how...?” She looks at the half-used roll in his hand, and he looks from the blunt to her face. He looks behind her. A closed door. Perfect. Taking a step forwards, he relishes in how she takes a hesitant step back, the breath in her throat catching but she still doesn’t back down. She looks to him like he’s a god, and he feels like one right now. And so he steps closer until she’s backed against the wall, his lids lowered to her wide ones, and he placed a hand next to her head. “Didnt your mom ever tell you not to take things from strangers?” He ghosts by the shell of her ear, and she shivers. “She never told me the strangers would be this hot,” and he has to laugh a bit at her tenacity. He pulls away and flops back on the bed, signaling for her to join him. “Well come one then, I’m hungry, better hurry up before I change my mind.” And 5 shotguns later, Dabi barely wipes off her bright pink lipstick from his face and straightens his kurta along with his hair before bounding down the steps, eager for food. At his command, she comes down a minute after him as to not cause any suspicion, but it doesn’t stop Rei from shooting him a knowing glare from the living room as he piles his plate with food. He shoves a veggie roll in his mouth as he turns to join the boys in the dining area, but his path is blocked by a large woman. “I know you’re up to no good. The children told me what funny smell was coming from the room upstairs, and I know you’re to blame, Touya Todoroki. I respect your mother a lot so I won’t make a scene here-“ he interrupts her, mouth half full with a roll, “-I mean, you already kinda are,-“ but she continues her tirade. “-I don’t think you’re a good influence on these kids, especially your siblings. What self respecting family would be okay with their son acting like a hooligan, having piercings, smelling like weed?” He smirks and swallows before swerving around her. “I don’t know Aunty, why don’t you ask your daughter? She didn’t seem to mind my, ah, influence.”

-When they were all younger, there was a time where End*avor wanted the boys the toughen up a bit and stop messing around so much. He brought the family up to the mountains in a nice cabin, purposefully choosing an area with farms nearby. It was around the time of Eid-e-Adha, so naturally goats and sheep’s were going to be sacrificed for the family feast. Touya already knew what was going on, so Enji left it up to him, a scrawny preteen boy to take over the initiation. Fuyumi wanted to come to the farm too, but Touya glared at her and told her to stay home because “girls are too emotional for this.”(he really did think that, but above all he held a secret soft spot for his only younger sister). Natsu and Touya both started heading down to the field to pick out a goat, and ofc little Shoto wanted to come along to. He begged and begged for his older brothers to bring him along and to not leave him at home for once, and with a sly glance to Natsu, Touya relented. He leaned down to Shoto’s eye-level and asked with serious eyes, “You sure?”. Shoto nodded eagerly, standing straight up as to look more solemn and mature. Natsu held back a snicker and grabbed Shoto by the collar as they dragged him out to the pasture. Oh, the little boy was in heaven among the bleating sheep and fluffy coats. “Go ahead, pick one out!” Touya said eagerly, nodding to the clueless toddler to choose a sacrificial sheep. And so the heterochromatic child pointed to one, looking to his big brothers for assurance, to which they gave an excited nod. Shoto yelped with glee and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking with the soon-to-be-mutton chops, completely oblivious to its grim fate and creating a bond with the animal. So when it was finally sunset and the time came to start preparing for the feast, Touya walked over leisurely to Shoto, pushed the grubby hand away from the animal’s collar, and started pulling the creature towards the chopping block. “W-what’re you doing?” Shoto asked uncertainty. “Well, we gotta eat, right? Thanks for picking out such a fat sheep, ‘wonder how it’s gonna taste,”. The eldest grinned with malice at his youngest brother, who started to sniffle and ball his fists. “You’re lying! Leave it alone!” He cried out. “Nope, m’not lying, ask Natsu.” Natsu turns to Shoto and shrugs his shoulders without any real regret. “You’re the one who wanted to come along, right? Think of how proud dad will be of his favorite-he finally sacrificed his first sheep!”

-the first time he was ever asked to lead the namaz, Keigo and Tomura kept kicking the back of his legs so he would fall over while trying to recite the prayers, and in turn he’d immediately whip around in the middle of the whole damn hall and shoot fire at the two howling boys. Needless to say, he was never asked to read again

(one would think since Dabi knows sooo much about being a gOoD mUsLim and how to follow the rules he’d take some of that advice HIMSELF)

[peggyrose19]

What Happens in Vegas Doesn’t Always Stay There

i was gonna do homework but i got inspired and wrote this instead. i also took a 90 minute nap at 6pm so now i’m bouncing off the walls and can’t actually make myself focus for longer than 30 seconds.....what was i saying? anyways this really got away from me wow. i have no regrets.

characters by @lumosinlove​

@im-oknutzy-trash, @wonder-womans-ex

cw: mentions of characters being drunk, swearing, idiot gays

Alex wasn’t sure how on earth they’d gotten on the topic of marriage. But conversations were always chaotic between the three of them so really he shouldn’t have been so surprised. Besides, if he was being honest with himself, he’d been thinking about it far more than he cared to admit.

He enjoyed the idea, the three of them being married. Making the commitment to each other. It wasn’t legal, but that didn’t matter. They could still be married in spirit. Maybe one day it would even happen.

“Y’know, Alex and I are married,” Kasey said casually, raising the bottle to his lips. Natalie gaped at him.

“You what?”

Alex laughed. “I forgot about that.”

Natalie glanced between the two of them quickly. “Please explain.”

With a laugh, Alex just shook his head. “We were playing Vegas in 2015, right after they legalized gay marriage, right? Both of us got shit-faced drunk and, in our drunken state, decided that getting married was an obviously very sound plan.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Well, after we had sobered up, we had kind of....forgotten it happened.”

“Then a few days later I was going through some pictures on my phone for whatever reason, and found one from that night, of the two of us holding a marriage certificate. Alex found it in his suitcase when we got home.”

Alex and Kasey both watched Natalie expectantly. For a long moment, she just stared at them in disbelief, mouth open almost comically wide. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” she cackled. “I cannot believe you two.”

Kasey shrugged. “We never got around to getting it annulled. I suppose neither of us particularly wanted to. We could now, I guess. If you wanted us to.”

Nat’s laughter faded. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well what about you?” Alex asked before Kasey could, as synced with him as he always had been.

“What about me? I don’t need a piece of paper to say I’m in love with you two, not to mention it’s impossible anyways. One day we can have a ceremony with our family and friends and it’ll be dramatic and over-the-top, but for right now? I don’t need anything else.”

Alex very nearly melted at that. He glanced over at Kasey, unreadable to most everyone else, who was smiling that half smile Alex loved so much.

“You wanna get married someday?” he asked quietly.

“Hell yeah, I do.”

~

Alex had never spent a whole lot of time with Sirius Black. He was a bit of an enigma to him, someone so well-known in the media but so secretive in real life. These days, everyone knew Sirius as the first gay NHL player, and the first player to be married to his own teammate. Alex had gotten to know him as Kasey’s teammate, as a good player and captain. So when he found himself beside Sirius and Remus in a crowded bar, he wasn’t entirely sure what to say to the two of them. He could have gone and joined Kasey and Natalie, somewhere on the dance floor together, but he had never been one for public dancing.

“So. How does it feel to be married?” he asked the pair, who immediately glanced at each other and grinned sappily.

“Really good, man,” Sirius replied, not-so-subtly grabbing Remus’ hand. Alex smiled at the gesture. “And being on the same team is great, I mean we get to see each other so much more now.”

“Yeah, it’s cool,” Alex replied unthinkingly, remembering playing with Kasey even before they were together and relishing in the closeness it brought, the long hours they spent together both on and off the ice. He’d missed having that recently.

“What?”

Alex burst out laughing before he could stop himself, receiving a confused look from Remus and a glare from Sirius.

“You good?” Remus asked warily.

“Fine, fine.”

“What d’you mean ‘it’s cool’?” Sirius asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Ah jeez.” Alex shook his head at himself. “Well, might as well get this over with.”

“Get what over with? Alex what the hell are you talking about?” Sirius looked bewildered, watching him with equal parts suspicion and confusion. Remus too was frowning, but there was a knowing look in his eye, as if he was starting to catch on.

He sighed heavily. “It’s possible Kasey and I got married like, six years ago.”

“What.”

“Yeah. Back when we were on the Rangers together, we were playing Vegas when gay marriage was legalized. And the two of us got shit-faced drunk and decided getting married was a good idea. Then we promptly forgot about it in the morning and once we finally remembered, never actually bothered to annul it. So. We’re still married. Technically. According to the state of Nevada.”

Sirius and Remus both stared at him, expressions strikingly similar to Natalie’s. Alex eyed them warily, unsure what was going to happen now.

“You mean we’re not the first NHL players to marry each other?” Sirius asked, and he seemed so genuinely disappointed Alex had to fight back a laugh.

“Uh, I guess not?”

“Merde,” Sirius swore. Remus just looked at him.

“Does that really matter?” he asked amusedly.

“Of course it matters! We’re the first, Remus! This is a very important development.”

“Okay,” Remus laughed, nodding along. “Whatever you say.”

Sirius just grumbled under his breath.

~

“Hey Harz, how attached are you to your brother exactly?” Sirius asked at practice the next day, and Kasey glanced over at him. Alex had filled him and Natalie on their conversation the night before, and Sirius’ newfound knowledge was not likely to lead to anything good.

Finn frowned. “He’s alright. Why, what’d he do?“

“Got married, the little fucker.”

Finn dropped the jersey he’d been holding. “What, he’s married? Since when?!”

“Did Nat finally propose?” James piped up.

“He’s not married to Nat,” Sirius said.

If possible, Finn looked even more confused. “He’s not married to Nat?”

“No he’s fucking married to Winters.”

Finn just gaped at Sirius. James looked positively delighted. “What- our Winter?” he asked. “Like, Kasey Winters... the Lions goalie?”

“Standing right here,” Kasey added. He fought a smile.

Finn glared at him. “Explain yourself right now.”

Kasey squirmed a little under the sudden attention, but he couldn’t fight a laugh. Of course this was how they were all going to find out.

He sighed. “Long story short, Alex and I got ridiculously drunk one night in Vegas and decided to get married for shits and giggles, and then we never did anything about it.”

“What the fuck.” Finn was the first to break the silence. “What the fuck what the fuck.” He grabbed his phone from his stall and opened it, aggressively tapping at the screen. “Alex!” he very nearly shouted into his phone. Kasey could hear his bright laughter through the phone. “What the fuck?”

“Don’t bug him, Finn,” Kasey tried, but the red-head would hear nothing of it.

“Alex O’Hara, you get your ass down here now,” Finn demanded into the phone, and then promptly hung up. Kasey just shook his head and went back to getting dressed. A few moments later, the locker room door squeaked open and Alex stood before the team, wearing his Winters jersey and fighting a smirk.

“Something wrong Finn?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“Yes, you little shit. Sirius said you’re married? To Kasey?”

Alex’s eyes danced. “It’s possible.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Prove it.”

“Finn how the fuck do you propose I do that?”

He jerked his head towards Kasey. “Kiss him.”

Alex frowned. “Dude, we’re literally together, you know this.”

But Finn’s jaw was set stubbornly, and Kasey knew that look never meant anything good. So Alex sighed good-naturedly and crossed the room to Kasey, stopping in front of him.

“Okay?” he asked quietly, meant only for Kasey’s ears. He nodded minutely.

Alex smiled softly, then leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, one hand coming to rest on the small of Kasey’s back, the other cupping his cheek. After a moment he pulled away and looked expectantly back at Finn, staring at the two of them with a mixture of shock and approval.

“Satisfied?” Alex asked smugly, staying tucked against Kasey’s side. Kasey would never admit it, and certainly not in front of the team, but he rather enjoyed having Alex here, feeling his warmth even through the pads, knowing he’d later be watching the game and cheering him on.

“Fine,” Finn grumbled. “But I still can’t believe you kept that a secret.”

Conflicting emotions crossed Alex’s face, there and then gone, invisible unless one knew to look. Kasey knew the unintentional pain Finn’s words had on his brother, and knew Alex was far too polite to get into it with Finn right then.

“Talk to him later, baby,” Kasey whispered to Alex, hiding it by pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

Alex nodded, hiding the pain with a good-natured smile. But he stayed pressed against Kasey, and that told him all he needed to know.

~

“Hey Finn!” Alex called out, jogging down the hallway to catch his brother, leaving with Leo and Logan.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked distractedly, still glancing down at his phone.

“I need to borrow you for a moment.” Finn looked up at him, eyes narrowing, before murmuring something to his boys. They both nodded and kissed him before continuing on towards the exit.

“What’s up?” Finn asked, clicking his phone off and sliding it into his pocket.

“I um...” Alex trailed off, finding himself suddenly without words, despite thinking over what he wanted to say earlier. “Just wanted to talk.”

“If this is about before, you don’t have to worry about it,” Finn interrupted gently before Alex could continue. “It’s okay. I get why you kept it a secret.”

Alex released a breath and stared at his little brother. He felt like he was just now seeing him for the first time, and seeing the man he had become in the past few years. He’d never noticed before, the understanding and kindness behind Finn’s lighthearted gaze.

“How did you know?”

Finn shrugged. “You’re easy to read.”

~

When Alex got home, he found Natalie watching television on the couch, Kasey seemingly asleep on her lap. She smiled when he appeared in the doorway, beckoning him over silently.

“You talk to Finn?” she asked silently as he slid in on her other side. She let him lean into her, tossing the blanket over him as well.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Alex shrugged. “He was... surprisingly understanding about the whole thing. I didn’t even have to say anything. He just seemed to know.”

“Yeah, he’s like that sometimes,” Kasey mumbled, and Alex jumped a little.

“Hey, you’re awake.” Kasey didn’t bother sitting up, but he opened his eyes and looked blearily up at the two of them.

“Yeah. Was just resting.”

The three of them fell silent then, letting the comfortable silence settle over them.

“Hey Nat?” Alex broke the silence after a while.

“What’s up?”

“Were you serious about the whole marriage thing? Do you really want to get married at some point? Like, not married married. But, you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” she replied sincerely. “Maybe not yet. I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. But at some point.”

“I’d really like that,” Kasey said quietly.

“Me too.”

She smiled. “We should go to Vegas. Bring the whole thing full circle, y’know?”

Kasey huffed a laugh, “Whatever you want.”

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 16

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The sun glared through the thin sheet of the tent, making your listless self stir beneath the blankets draped over your naked body. Cautious not to wake Bucky, who had his arms wrapped around you, you carefully buried your face deeper in his neck but he wasn't that much of a deep sleeper as you thought he would be.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." He said, pulling you closer.

"G'morning." You replied, smiling against his skin. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Yes. I didn't want to wake you. You looked so peaceful sleeping."

"Someone tired me out last night."

Bucky chuckled, sending a low vibration on top of your head. "Hmm, how was he?"

"He's pretty good in bed." You chuckled. "But pretty creepy when he refers to himself in the third person."

You stayed right there for another hour — in each other's embrace, in heat, in thin sheets, in profound silence, still taking pleasure in the afterglow of what had transpired last night: the intimacy in each other's skin, of each other's mouths, of each other's everything. A kind of intimacy you never dared share with anyone, not even with your serious ex-boyfriend.

Before the both of you got up and headed down the fire escape and then to the apartment, you had looked at him one last time and asked yourself the same question you had asked Bucky the first time you were here on the rooftop:

"Have you ever felt that kind of feeling?" You asked.

"What feeling?"

"The afterglow feeling."

Was this the kind of afterglow you sought after?

You shook your head, suddenly feeling ridiculous. Perhaps it was the sex; just that. The most amazing, mindblowing sex I ever had in my life, you thought. The more you described it that way while descending down the stairs and entering the apartment through the window (while wearing Bucky's shirt which looked huge on you, by the way), the more you believed it was just because of that. Besides, it was something that had given you sweet, sweet pleasure, something that made me feel like you were high on drugs, something that made you feel alive, something that made you feel things you didn't even know you could — the after of it all, of course, was worth so much more.

You both went straight to the bathroom to wash your faces and brush your teeth as soon as you got in. Of course, you took way more time than he did. He soon went to the kitchen to prep breakfast. You approached him afterwards, his bare back exposed to you while cracking some eggs into a bowl.

Without any hesitation at all, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. You caught a whiff of his scent, even though he reeked of sex, the vanilla-lavender hint never faded.

"Whatcha cookin', good-lookin'?" You asked, taking a peek on the table.

"I was thinking of making you Japanese omelettes today." He stopped whipping for a second to face you. He placed a finger on your chin, tilting it upwards, and proceeded to kiss me.

"Have I told you you have the softest lips?" He whispered after.

"Yes, you did." You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "And you kept reminding me last night."

"Good. You should be reminded of all the beautiful things you possess." He rested his hands on your hips. You wanted to shy away from the mention of the word beautiful but you didn't.

You have always received compliments, yes, but you never learned how to respond to them unless they tell you how to: "Oh for god's sake, just say thank you." Most people compliment you just because they have to, because social convention dictates them to (especially when you're at a party). Some, perhaps only five percent, genuinely compliment you.

But the spontaneity of last night — all the compliments Bucky kept giving you, all the "beautiful" being said over and over and over, were playing in your head like a broken record. Even after he saw all the folds, the rolls, stretch marks, scars, and acne marks.

It wasn't just that. He admired every single one of your photos down at the bar, photos you worked hard for, photos people kept neglecting. He talked about them like how you imagined someone actually talking about them. He talked to you about the beauty of art like how you wanted to talk to someone about it (Weirdly so, you picked friends you had nothing in common with: Nat just wanted to gossip, Steve preferred to be mysterious, Peter was all about business, Wanda was the one person you could talk to about these but you chose not to anymore, and Nick... was just Nick). It was like reading each other's minds.

You treated each as a compliment.

The five percent you were talking about? Bucky was it.

He pulled you out of your thoughts by sliding his hands to your ass, squeezing the cheeks for a bit, then placing them on the back of your thighs. You smiled then jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. He placed you on top of the counter next to all the ingredients he had prepared.

He grabbed your face and continued to make-out, leaving the eggs on the bowl raw and unwhisked.

"You should," you said in between kisses, "go back to cooking. I'm starving."

"Y'know, you could just eat me."

"Sorry, I want cooked eggs."

He pulled away from, yet his hands stayed on your waist. With a cute pout on his face, he said: "Mean."

You broke into laughter after that and you watched him cook this Japanese omelette he kept talking about.

"I would make you the most amazing Japanese omelette — and the most complicated one, by the way. It took me months to perfect that — but I'm too lazy to prepare the rice." He chuckled, grabbing an apron. "So, I'm just going to make you the normal one. It's called Tamagoyaki."

"Hmm, interesting." You commented. "I just do mine sunny-side up. Crack an egg on a pan. That's it. It's an underrated hack, really."

He laughed. "It's a good thing I'm here then." He proceeded to heat the pan, and throw some butter on it once the heat was good enough.

"You told me you only know how to cook breakfast, right? Why is that?"

"The same reason why you cook your eggs sunny-side up."

"It's easy?"

"Not just easy." He replied. "It's the easiest of all meals! Toast, eggs, bagels, bacon — see, they're pretty easy."

You frowned, tilting your head. "You know, most times, you say the most profound things but you do say the weirdest, silliest things sometimes."

It was like two people were fighting against each other inside him: the child, and the man.

He laughed at your comment and said nothing further as he concentrated on cooking. You watched him move around the kitchen as the minutes passed by. And while you talked about the small things in life, you couldn't help but wonder how this Bucky, standing right in front of you, kissing you, holding you, was much more different — way more different than the Bucky you knew in Peter's stories.

The thing you liked about it though, was that both versions excited you. You longed for spontaneous adventures, ones that you’d keep forever, ones that would remind you of the days of your youth, ones you too stuck up to do, and you longed for conversations like this, and the ones you and Bucky have had before, conversations that made you see more of life's beauty and appreciate it.

That same afternoon, you spent it lying down on a couch in each other's arms, watching a movie he guilted you into watching: Roman Holiday. You made side commentaries while you watched, how lame the lines were, how cheesy they all sounded, but at the same time, amazed at how things have changed since then.

"Ugh, I love me a vespa." You said, watching the vespa speed away on the streets. "I would just love to ride around New York city in a vespa and just pull off some Roman Holiday in this bitch."

"I have to admit, that does look fun."

And somewhere halfway through the film, when Bucky was making small circles with his finger on your waist (igniting fire within you, and at the same time, making you weak on your knees), you ended up making out, grabbing and touching each other beneath your clothes, and taking them all off, sending them flying all over the living room floor, and repeating what you did last night — except it was in broad daylight and Bucky dominated over you, over and over and over, flesh on flesh. You kept screaming each other's names. He kept fucking you into oblivion, taming the mad woman in you.

You laid there on your back, pulling down his neck with your right hand, making your foreheads touch, locking your eyes together, telling him to go "faster, deeper", digging deep and scratching into his back with your nails, making him hiss out your name, and at the same time, crying out his name repeatedly like a chant, making you forget your own.

You felt the droplets of his sweat on your skin, mixed with your own. You watched him ravish you, watched the pleasure consume him wholly, and watched his eyes roll back as he came inside.

"I really can't get enough of you, babydoll." He growled, and kissed you one last time before you showered and headed down to work.

-

"You look different." Nat observed, sitting on one of the high stools across you. "Did you do something with your face?"

"No, I didn't." You grimaced, shaking your head.

"Then, why are you glowing?"

"Quit staring."

She chose not to listen to you and kept on following you with her eyes as you moved around the counter. "Oh my god, I know what it is — "

"Goddamn it, Nat — "

" — you had sex!"

She cackled, gesturing you towards the booth with a sharp tone: "Booth. Now."

You followed suit. It was crystal clear in that moment that you had no other choice, that she held the upper hand in this friendship. You were starting to think that perhaps this friendship you were pursuing with Nat was a mistake as she kept on berating you about the information she just acquired.

"There's no way in hell I'm telling you all about it." You huffed, sitting across from her.

"I'll tell you one thing, though," she said, "I'm a fucking prophet."

"Don't be such a smug bitch." You rolled your eyes. "No one likes a smug bitch."

"What did I tell you about this Bucky thing, huh?" She smirked, ignoring you. Again. "Come on, spill the beans! I wanna hear everything!"

You shook your head unamused. "Nope. No way."

She groaned. "Please? Nothing exciting is ever happening in this bar but now I have this! You!"

"How about you and Steve humping each other like bunnies?" You bit your inner cheeks to prevent your lips from smiling. "That's gotta be exciting."

"Let's not talk about me and Steve."

"So, it's okay if we talk about my sex life but not yours?"

"Exactly."

You frowned. "You're a weird friend."

"No." She leaned in. "I'm a miracle-worker that happens to be your new best friend, by the way — "

"Parker's my best friend — "

" — and you should at least thank me. I am more than welcome, by the way."

"Nat, if you don't stop I swear to God I'm gonna out you and Steve to the whole ass bar." You groaned, knocking your forehead against the table. Coincidentally, you could actually out them of the closet knowing they were actually doing it in one of the closets here in the bar (yes, you found a condom wrapper lying around one time. Knowing what had transpired in that small space, believe you me, you sprinted the fuck out of there).

"Ugh fine, fine." She said, making you stop banging your head and forcing you to look at her. "Just tell me this... Was it good?"

You rolled your eyes. "Fine, yes, it was good."

"Just good?"

You sighed in defeat, leaning back on the cushioned backrest of the booth. "It was the best I ever had." Nat bit her lip, hiding a squeal. "There. Ya happy?"

"Now, I'm curious! Please, y/n, you have to tell me. I gots to know! Okay, tell me, how big was he?"

"What?! No, I'm not gonna tell you that."

"Come on, I'll trade you Steve's."

"Ew, Nat! Gross!" You cringed. "I don't wanna know that!"

Then, she proceeded to move her hands in the opposite direction slowly, "tell me when to stop." You shook your head and just watched her in plain amusement as she continued to do it. Her jaw dropped. "Oh my god, this big? Seriously?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Come on, you told me about the time you kissed!"

"That's different." You scoffed. "This one's... intimate."

"Ooohhh, intimate. Well, I've never heard anyone describe sex that way."

"It was just different, okay? Good different." You replied. "And that's all I'm telling you."

She heaved a sigh, finally accepting the fact that you won't go anywhere past what you just told her. "Okay, at least you gave me something. Do you mind if I ask you something real, though? I swear this is the last time. It's not about sex, I promise."

Convinced, you nodded. "Go ahead."

"So, are you guys dating now? Or is it just, ya know, fooling around?"

You sat there, undoubtedly floored by the question. You had never even given it a thought. It never crossed your mind until Nat just made you realize the consequences of yesterday, last night and this afternoon, the inevitable. Were you dating? Will you ever talk about it? Is he even considering it? Or will you just continue to have sex without ever talking about dating?

"I, uh, I don't know. We didn't talk about it."

"Well, clearly there's gotta be something, right? That it's not just fooling around. I mean you said it was intimate, that it was good different — whatever that means." said Nat. "There's gotta be something deep?"

You looked at Natasha with astonishment, baffled by the things coming out of her mouth. Apparently,you were still on cloud nine to think about any kind of repercussion, to think about what could happen next to afterglow.

"I guess?"

"Do you like him?"

"Clearly, I do."

Unlike Nat, you were stunned by your answer. You answered that question faster than the speed of light.

She smirked at you in response. "You are so gonna fall in love."

"Shut your hole, Nat."

The door flew open suddenly, revealing Bucky and Sam, which got you up your feet. Instinctively and ignoring Nat, you approached him halfway and greeted him with a kiss which he gladly reciprocated, all the things you and Nat just talked about disappearing into this sweet, sweet kiss.

"Hey you." You breathed after pulling away from his lips.

"Hey, babydoll."

"Oh hey, Sam."

"Hey, babydoll." Sam mocked, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's a cute name. What is that? French?"

Bucky smacked his friend on the stomach, making Sam groan and glare at him. "So, it's not French?"

"Sam." Bucky warned which Sam only found funny.

Bucky kept his hand on your waist as you approached the booth, with Sam behind us. Nat, who was still sitting on the booth, cocked her head on the side and eyed Bucky up and down. "Bucky, Sam... This is Nat from the night before." You introduced them to each other before you made them sit in the booth.

"Do you boys want anything to drink?" Nat asked.

"We'll have scotch." Bucky replied, giving Nat a friendly smile. "On the rocks."

"Actually, I don't know how to make drinks, I just asked to be nice."

You rolled your eyes at Nat, laughing lightly. "Don't worry, I got them." You approached the counter and prepared the drinks while Nat followed your trail.

"Babydoll?" She asked. "Steve doesn't even have a nickname for me."

"Okay, I have to ask this since you already did it to me anyway." You said, pouring scotch on the glasses. "Are you and Steve dating? Or is it just, like you said, fooling around?"

"We're friends... with benefits."

"So, just fooling around then?" You asked.

"Yeah, you can put it that way."

"Aren't you worried he might want something more than that? Like a relationship? He does seem like a man who wants to settle, y'know."

"Aren't you worried your new boy toy might want something like that too?"

You fell silent just as you were about to finish the drinks. You weren't worried about that, no. You were worried about you, wanting something more, something you haven't had in a long time, something Bucky hasn't had.

"The chances of me and Steve getting even serious are very slim." She whispered. "But you and Bucky? Now, that's a big fat chance. It doesn't even matter how long you guys have known each other. If there's chemistry, then you can't do anything about it, and the way you described your whole thing with him? Babydoll," she smirked, proud of herself, "if that's not chemistry then I don't know what is."

"As far as I can remember, you're the one who told me to just 'go where the river takes you' and now you're confusing me with these things!" You hissed, looking over at the booth and making sure Bucky won't hear your little banter.

She rolled her eyes at you. "Okay, okay, okay... Allow me to paint you a picture, y/n."

"Paint me a picture — ?"

"Do you know where the river takes you? A waterfall." Nat cut youoff. "Now, right now, you're still on a boat, just gliding through the river, going where the flow takes you. Then some time now, you're gonna hit a fast stream until boom, waterfalls, and when you reach the top of the falls, inevitably, you're gonna fall... fall in love, that is, with the hunky rich man over there. See? Painting a picture. I can be smart too."

You kept Nat's words in the back of your mind until you gave Bucky and Sam their drinks, saving them for later. Nat had to go out for a while to smoke outside, leaving you, Sam and Bucky in the booth, discussing the project you had with Sam's line, updating you with all the dates and details. Seeing as you'll soon be leaving the bar by the end of the week, you offered to start first thing next week.

"But I could actually give you a little pitch presentation just before we start shooting," you added, "idea decks we can work with, like styles, and some mood boards that fit your whole apparel aesthetic. But first, I need to know your brand bible, like your target audience, the tone of your business — stuff like that — just so I can prepare for the presentation."

"Wow, you know a lot about the business industry." Sam replied, amused.

"I used to major in business and finance." You sighed. "It does come in handy with my photography."

Under the table, Bucky reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand three times which elicited a smile.

"Oh, I can give you a tour!" Sam enthusiastically said. "We can go to the office and to some of the stores; maybe the one in Fifth Street. We've actually received the shipment for the new designs. We could discuss everything then. How does tomorrow sound? Bucky can come with ya."

"Tomorrow works, yes! Tomorrow's perfect." You agreed.

You broke out in a smile, leaning on Bucky's side who was more than glad to see you discussing with Sam about the project, squeezing you hand once more, three times.

"Then, it's settled!" Sam boomed. "Now, where's the toilet? I think I got a little too excited."

You threw you head back, laughing. "Right down the hall over there." You pointed.

As soon as Sam was gone, Bucky turned towards you and held your face with his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. "You sound so hot talking like that."

You chuckled, sliding closer towards him, your thighs brushing past each other. "You and your weird mind, Bucky I swear to God."

With his lips pressed on yours, you didn't even notice the door open, didn't even notice Steve walk in. You pulled away, hearing Steve clearing his throat. With your hands still on Bucky, you turned towards Steve, who was clearly entertained, and sent him a huge smile.

"H-hey, Rogers." You chuckled nervously. "You remember Bucky."

"Mr. Barnes." Steve nodded at Bucky.

"Mr. Rogers."

You frowned at their formal exchange. "Bucky's actually here with his friend, Sam Wilson. I'm starting a project with him for his business that'll start next week. We were just, uh, discussing the details."

"In his mouth?" Steve smirked.

"Steve." You hissed. "Not cool, man."

"So, where's this Sam Wilson?" Steve asked, looking to his right.

"On your left."

Steve turned around on his left at Sam's voice. Both men stared at each other for a while before introducing each other and shaking each other's hands. Weirded out, you turned to Bucky and asked if they knew each other, if the three of them knew each other (as you now remembered that time when Bucky and Steve met here in the bar).

Bucky shook his head no. "Maybe he's just one of those familiar faces you see on the street." He whispered, but as Steve went straight to his office, and as Sam got back in the booth, a weird tension surfaced that was cut off by Nat entering the bar, together with some customers who were more than happy to be the first ones here.

"That's my cue." You sighed, standing up and letting go of Bucky's hands before going to the counter and greeting the customers.

You felt your phone vibrate against your back pocket after a few seconds. You opened it, and on the screen was a message from Peter:

Sorry couldn't get to you sooner. Lost my charger on the way to the cabin! Schmidt didn't want me to borrow his until I did everything he told me to. Everything's great! I'll send you pictures when I can.

Hope Bucky's taking good care of you. Miss you, y/n. I'll see you in a few days!

Your fingers hovered on the screen as you glanced at Bucky who caught your eyes. He winked at you while taking a sip from his drink and licked his lip afterwards, eyeing you up and down.

Tell Schimdt I'll beat his ass when he comes back. See you in a few days, Parker!

A series of what happened between you and Bucky flashed in your mind, making you bite your lip.

And don't worry, Bucky's taking good care of me.

... such good care.

[personasintro]

one day | ksj drabble

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀; you and your boyfriend are spending your holiday in malta, but you've no idea that during your stay he realizes something very important – until he tells you and you couldn't be happier

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff, smut, established relationship

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: fingering, unprotected sex, strong language, teasing, dom!seokjin but he's kinda sub when oc teases him, oral sex [male receiving]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 4.7k

a/n: commissioned by @moonerva​ who's been incredibly patient with me, so thank you luv again!! also, this drabble is a part of the one I've written before, but can be read alone! (you can read it here!)

𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | ☕️

Warm air spreads across your cheeks while you walk through the night streets in Malta. Hands locked with your boyfriend, you admire the architecture and just enjoy your time spent together. It's a nice change from your daily lives, although you love what the two of you have back home.

Moving together proved to be the best decision you – as a couple – have made. Your first shared apartment isn't huge, definitely not the right home for the rest of your lives, but it's home for now. Surprisingly, Seokjin is very neat with his stuff, making sure there's no mess that you could possibly complain about. And no matter how many times his firm, but incredibly nice mother had told you, it's pain in the ass to live with him, you know you've made the right decision. Obviously, she was teasing most of the time, making sure Jin hears her whenever she talks behind his back.

“Mooom, stop. Do you want her to break up with me?” You remember him whining from the kitchen, preparing the dinner for the two most amazing women in his life.

Mrs. Kim just waved him off with a laugh, telling him you're not going anywhere.

And she was right. You're not and you're still very in love with her son. There's nothing that could change that, not even him acting like a child throwing a tantrum whenever he plays one of the games on a computer, getting angry over him loosing. Just the single memory is enough to make you smile, glancing at your boyfriend who looks at the baroque church you're passing by.

“You want to take a picture here?” he asks, pulling out his phone to take another set of pictures of none other, than you.

He already has hundreds of your photos, posing in front of monuments or just you completely oblivious that he's taking a picture. He loves those photos, they catch your natural beauty – and he loves whenever you catch him in the act, scolding him for doing that in the first place.

The same thing happened just an hour ago, when you were sitting in one of the local restaurants. You were enjoying your dessert when from the corner of your eyes, you could see your boyfriend stealing a few snaps of you. He cackled when the cream dripped down your chin, but he didn't stop and still teased you by taking pictures. It was funny, the locals and tourists nearby probably thought the two of you are crazy.

“We took so many already,” you laugh, admiring the building nevertheless. “Look! There's a fountain!” you exclaim, pointing ahead of you while you rush there, leaving your boyfriend standing in the middle of street with dumbfounded look.

He chuckles, thanking for your red dress that makes it easier to find you. They're just basic summer dress, with flowery pattern but it's you that make them gorgeous. You're gorgeous. Quickly following you, the last thing he needs is to loose you, he rushes towards you. He doesn't see you for a moment, his heart picking up the pace when all he sees are tourists and locals filling the street. He can't begin to imagine that something might happen to you. His eyes dance across the street, panic raising within his entire body and he's ready to yell your name, not caring he's in the middle of street full of people. Luckily, when a group of tourists leave, his eyes find you immediately. You're sitting on the edge of the fountain, fingers dipping in the clear and turquoise water. A breath of relief leaves his mouth and he allows himself to relax, although he fully relaxes as soon as he's by your side. He grabs your shoulder, sighing once again as he closes his eyes.

“You scared me,” he tells you, “I couldn't see you.”

And you want to tease him, turning around to take a glance at him but the grin disappears as soon as you see his face. He looks so scared and when he sits beside you, you notice his shaky hands that you quickly grab.

“I'm sorry, I thought you're right behind me.” you apologize, bringing his hand to your mouth as you give them a kiss.

“It's okay.” he smiles, knowing deep down he just panicked a little bit too much.

He lost you out of sight for a whole minute, and you're not a little child that needs his protection. But he can't imagine something bad could happen to you, just the thought of it makes him want to throw up. You're everything to him. He wants to be there for you, anytime you need him. He wants to protect you, cherish and love you for the rest of his life. He can't imagine feeling about someone like he does about you. Sure, he had couple of girlfriends but they were never that serious and then you came. When he least expected it, you came into his life and brought light into it.

When you look at him through your thick lashes, the little and decent make-up that makes you look much more youthful and natural, his heart blooms with even more love.

“No, it was stupid of me to do that. We're in a foreign country full of strangers. I'm sorry.” you insist, shaking your head to prove your point as he smiles at you.

He reaches towards your face, grabbing your cheeks as he stares lovingly into your eyes. Opening his mouth, he's about to say those three words that you love to hear, and always bring the brightest smile onto your face full of love and adoration. However, he's interrupted by the round of applause coming nearby that steals both of your attentions.

There is a woman, her hands covering her mouth as she's crying while the man is on her knee, holding a shiny ring. She nods, yelling a confident 'yes' before she pulls him off the ground and hugs him. Everyone starts cheering and even you, in the distance, can't resist and start to applaud for them. The bright smile that is caused by you being happy for some strangers decors your face and Seokjin joins you, applauding too. Although, his eyes are set on you.

“Oh my god, did you see that? That was so cute!” you beam, turning around to look at your boyfriend who acts like he hasn't been staring at you for awhile.

He smiles, nodding. “Yeah, it was lovely to be a part of such experience.” he admits, seeing you glancing at the couple that takes a few pictures with the woman's new ring before they walk away.

“Woah, that was so romantic.”

“Is that how you'd like our engagement to be?” he asks, head tilting in curiosity while he watches you.

Your cheek flush as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don't know, I'd like anything to be honest. I'm not picky.”

“Well, you can be more detailed. You know, for the future.” he wiggles his brows, causing you to laugh at him before it dies down and you stare at him.

“Are you planning to propose, Kim Seokjin?” you tease, eyes sparkling with amusement and adoration.

To be honest, the thought about marriage crossed your mind a few times. It's something you both want and talked about at the beginning of your relationship. But now that you've took another step in your relationship, that being you two living together, a marriage is the next big step. Although, it doesn't have to be so soon and the last thing you want, is for Seokjin to feel pressured. Whenever is the time right, you know it'll be amazing and one of the most special memories.

“No,” he deadpans, eyeing widening when he sees the horrific look on your face. “I mean--not now!” he quickly explains himself, causing you to giggle over his stressed expression.

“I was just joking, Jin,” you giggle, standing up. Dipping your fingers into the water, you lightly splash his face to get him out of his zoned state. “Now come on, I believe you promised me something after we get back to the hotel.” you smirk, remembering his promise.

His eyes darken as he stands up abruptly, clutching your hand in his as he leads you back to the hotel. You can't help but giggle at his determination, teasing him about it, considering he had you this morning and the night before. He laughs with you, but stays silent.

Little do you know that his mind is filled with other scenarios, not of him making love to you, but him bending a knee with a shiny ring in his hands, asking you the most important question that would change your lives.

What would you like?

Would you want it to be in a public?

Or would you prefer it to happen privately?

Would you even say yes?

Are you ready for marriage?

Even he knows that it might be too soon, but it's not too soon to be thinking about it and start planning it. He decided long time ago that you're the only one for him, he doesn't want anyone else. You'll be the mother of his kids, you're going to carry his surname and make him proud. Fuck, the thought makes him happy and he can't wait for it to happen. But you're both too young, and although you love each other deeply, you're taking it slow and naturally. There's no point in rushing, not when he knows you're the one and you feel the same way.

The hotel room that you've booked for a week looks messy. The sheets on your bed are completely rumpled, there are Seokjin's and your dirty clothes all over the floor. Despite of you being a neat person, and so is Jin, but you left your room like this, not bothering to clean up a little bit. The two of you were too excited to look around, knowing you'll spend your whole day outside anyway. The only time you spend there is when you're sleeping or your boyfriend is pounding you into the already messy mattress. God, you hope there are no traces of your morning and night adventures.

It's more about your dignity than anything else, when you're about to do the same thing like every evening. However, this time you don't let your boyfriend leading you towards the bed and having that power over you.

“Oh come on, princess.” he scoffs lightly, once you push his shoulders and make him sit down. He plops onto the soft mattress with ease, looking up at you with a mere shocked gaze.

Caressing his broad shoulders, you take your time to feel him through the fabric. Jin's shocked expression doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you ignore it and let him stare at you with a hidden interest. He's usually the one who takes the first step, guides you while you're in the position of enjoying his touch and let him do the whole work. It sounds selfish, but it's really not. One of Jin's pleasures is to see you enjoying yourself with his touch. He loves the fact that he's the one who makes you squirm, moan and whine for him.

He spreads his legs, allowing you to stand between them as his hands are automatically grabbing your hips. He almost groans at the thinness of your dress, silently admiring how it fits you and your figure, even though they're completely loose and don't show your true curves, you're still breathtaking. Even the slightest tan you've managed to get in three days of your stay. He lets his eyes wander around your little details, like the diamond necklace you've been wearing ever since he gave it to you on your first anniversary. It's a simple necklace, a little heart sparkled with tiny diamonds. The other necklace – the shorter one – has a little 'S' on it. It symbolizes him and his name. You bought it for yourself, wanting to have him close to you even if he's not by your side. He didn't buy it, he's not so narcissistic. It's cheesy and so cringe, according to your own words, but it settles a calm feeling whenever you're stressed and Jin isn't there. You've never felt so attached to anyone, and it scares you. Just he thought of him not being in your life freaks you out. You wouldn't be able to live through your break-up, if that ever happens. Fuck, you hope not.

Jin remembers the exact moment when he saw the necklace around your neck. He was surprised, but couldn't help that stupid and wide grin from appearing on his face. When you told him why you bought it and even laugh it off, he just couldn't stop staring at you before he showered you with hundreds of kisses.

“What do you want, Jin?” you ask slowly, hands still caressing those wide shoulders while he scoffs again.

“Is that even a question?” he asks, causing you to raise a brow at him. He sighs, but still answers. “You, obviously.”

“You had me. This morning and yesterday, actually. And the days before too.” you point out, not looking into his eyes but you know they're solely set upon you.

He's probably frowning, wondering where the hell is this going to? He doesn't like that, he wants to rip those dress off you. “What are you doing, princess?” he asks cautiously, voice low and raspy.

“What do you think I'm doing?” you ask, feigning an innocence while you bat your eyelashes knowing it'll drive him insane.

It does, his eyes darken and he clenches his jaw. Giving him a little smirk, you drop onto your knees knowing he'll be distracted from what he was about to say. And you're right, he shuts his mouth and stares at you through hooded eyes, while your palms spread over his knees. You give them a few strokes, staring at him while acting all innocent when deep inside, you're smirking and laughing devilishly.

“Princess,” he says, and it sounds like a whine but he controls his voice and gulps instead. “Touch me.”

Well, you're surprised by how quick it took for him to say it out loud. Jin never faked or held back his need for you, but you still thought the male pride would stand in the way.

And how could you resist those soft but dark brown orbs full of want and love?

Unzipping his pants, he helps you to take them off, not fully though. They pool at his ankles, along with his black boxers. His hardening length almost slaps you and you flinch back, not expecting him to take his boxers too. Raising a scandalous brow at him, he gives you an innocent shrug and smile which makes you giggle. Taking his length into your hands, you squeeze the soft and velvety skin, admiring that part of him. Well, it's not like you see it for the time but it's still worth the attention.

And from the corner of your eyes, you notice him smirking cockily at the salivating look you give him. Spitting into your hand, he curses at the sight before you start stroking him. His hips jerk and with a head thrown back, you're the one who smirks this time. He groans, wanting you to fasten up your pace but you don't. He must be thinking you're not getting the message, and that's why he looks at you and is met with your little smirk.

“Faster, princess. C'mon.” he says, jerking his hips again to prove his point but you just shrug.

“Why? I like it this way.” you tell him innocently, almost bursting in laughter at the sight of his narrowed eyes and clenched jaw.

“Y/N,” he warns you, his breath hitching when your thumb brushes against the mushroom head. He realizes him being sassy won't get him anywhere, and you'll just tease him even more. He sees the darkened and amused glint in your orbs, and although it's something fresh and he hasn't seen it for a long time, he knows you're in one of those moods. “Please, princess.” he whines and he gets the reaction he wanted.

You listen, obviously happy with his reaction as you quicken up your pace. Your saliva is used as a lube, making it easier to pump him. He moans when you set up a stable pace, jerking him off while he gets fully hard.

“Put it in your mouth now,” he breathes out, “Please.” he adds, causing you to chuckle.

For a moment, he's scared you'll make him beg for it, although you've never been that type. God knows what's going on inside your pretty head, he thinks.

Scooting closer to between his hands, you kiss the tip of his length making him groan. Your soft and plush lips have that kind of effect on him, even though he's the one with a perfect set of lips that any woman could ever dream of. Sucking at the tip, he almost goes feral when you take him into your mouth. Going further, you let his cock go deeper while you take all of him. It's not easy and you almost choke around him, but holding your breath helps a lot and just the thought of how you make him feel is enough to continue. You drool all over his hard length, getting his balls soaked with your saliva as you hold yourself there. He moans, not having the heart to jerk his hips upwards even though that's exactly what the horny side of him tells him to do. He can't, and holds himself back as much as he can before you move up. You let his cock head stay inside your mouth, breathing through you nose before you take him again. This time, you start blowing him while humming around his throbbing cock. Your heart signs with pride when an evident groan slips out of his mouth and gets longer with each move you make. He pets your hair, groaning louder when you lick the underside of his cock.

“Oh, fuck. Princess,” he whines, hips jerking when you suck on the head again and hum in response.

Jin's mind is filled with the need to get a release, not thinking that there's a whole night ahead of you and if he cums now, it'll take time to get himself hard again. He could take that time to truly take care of you, to taste you and he knows your little moans would be all he needed to get his cock hard again.

But none of this is on his mind, all he can do is grabbing you by your head while he clutches your beautiful sleek hair in his grasp. He's getting there, with each moan getting a bit louder, you know he's about to cum down your throat. And you'd like that, but you have other plans. Just as he's forcing your face down onto his cock, you pull away. He nearly screams, his release being snatched from him in seconds.

Cheeks red and chest heaving, he narrows his eyes in confusion. He watches you wiping your mouth, detaching that line of saliva that connected your mouth and his cock, before he opens his mouth.

“What the hell,” he murmurs, shoulders dropping in disappointment at your sudden decision. “Y/N.” he breathes out, not hiding the disappointment in his voice either.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” you hum, eyes averting between his hard cock and face.

He grunts, reaching towards you as he gets you onto your feet effortlessly. You squeak in surprise, but your stomach jumps with excitement, especially when you hear him growl.

“You know I don't like being teased,” he says through clenched teeth, making sure you stare deeply into his eyes. “Whatever this little stunt was, you're done.”

Your heat pulsates at his words, clenching around nothing. Thank God he can't see your clenched thighs together, even though something tells you he probably knows. He always said you're easy to read, that's how good he knows you. There's not a person who knows you like Jin. Not even your parents, family or friends.

“But you like it, huh?” he chuckles lowly, tilting his head to the side. “You like when I get like this. When I talk to you like this.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you can't control the heat that spreads over your cheeks and all over your body that trembles with excitement in Jin's hands. He stands up, chest bumping against yours as he hovers over you. It's just for a second and it happens fast before you're sent to bed. Back bumping against the mattress, you stare at your boyfriend that has the same lustful look, like he hasn't had you every day. He can't get enough of you.

Eyes trailing down, he notices your dress being hiked up and exposing your thighs. “Take off your dress.” he barks an order, yet his voice stays light but authoritative at the same time.

Slowly sitting up, your eyes don't leave his face and you make sure it stays that way for the whole time you're slowly taking them off. Purposely, your movements are slow and you really take the time to get the soft and red fabric off your body.

“Don't test me, princess.” he warns you, narrowing those brown eyes at you in silent warning.”Underwear too.” he adds, mouth salivating at the sight of a similar shade of red bra and matching lacy panties.

And you do listen, trying to appear calm and slow when your heart keeps hammering inside your chest like it's about to jump out. When you're fully exposed to his hungry eyes, he hums in approval before he stands up. You almost let out a whine, fearing he's going to be the one to tease you right now or worse, he'll leave you high and dry. But it all dies down when he fully takes off his jeans and boxers which stayed pooled around his ankles. His button up is going next, falling carelessly onto the floor before he stands in front of you in his natural naked state. Licking your lips, you let your eyes wander to his still hard cock, waiting for attention. The angry red color of his head almost matches to your underwear that's laying on the floor with Jin's clothes.

He hovers over you, connecting your mouths as he tastes himself on you. He groans, hand dipping between your legs. Jin's thumb gently rubs your clit, humming again at the feeling of your wetness that spreads all over his fingers.

“Hm, maybe I should just stick my cock inside of you for all that teasing,” he tells you lowly, but still lets his fingers slide into your cunt. You gasp at the sudden penetration, walls automatically clenching around his two fingers.

Too good. It's too good.

“For that all teasing from you, I just might.” he chuckles, enjoying your squirming and breathless form. You make him feel powerful, he loves that.

His hand goes down, stroking his cock while you spread your legs for him. He holds a question in his eyes, but your whining and spread legs that he knows so well, give him an answer. When Jin finally lines himself up and thrusts into you, you're left speechless and able to move, until he's fully inside of you. He kisses you, rough and fast, before he starts rocking his hips into yours. But even that doesn't last that long, until he quickens up his pace and starts to pounding you. You shouldn't be so surprised, after all that teasing, you had to see it coming.

His name echoes in the room, you voice is like a sweet melody to his ears, along your moans and gasps of air that you let out every time he hits your g-spot with his thick cock. He feels your cunt clenching in approaching orgasm, while his eyes stay fixed on yours. Jin's grunting, pounding into you in harsh and quick thrusts. Your eyes close, rolling back when you see yourself cumming.

“Open your eyes,” he demands, his hand wrapping around your neck when you listen to him and open your eyes. He squeezes your neck softly, your eyes betraying you again as they roll back, chasing that long-wanted orgasm.

“I love you.” he grunts, slowly squeezing your neck again while you finally let go. Your cunt throbs, clenching uncontrollably around Jin's cock while he still keeps fucking you.

He's chasing his own orgasm, following you two minutes after as he cums with a deep groan, spilling himself into you. His cock throbs, twitching while he's painting your inner walls white with his seed. He rolls his hips into yours a few times, repeating; “I love you, I love you, I love you.” all over again.

“I love you.” you tell him, once he finally stops and drops his body onto yours. He's still careful not to crush you to death, his hands holding himself slightly while his hand is no longer around your neck.

“I'll marry you one day. And you're gonna love it.” he says, voice muffled and breath hitting your shoulder as he keeps his head buried between your shoulder and the dirty sheets.

If they weren't coated with yours and Seokjin's fluids, you'd feel much more disgusted. Surprisingly, you don't mind it that much. Let's wait until the two of you go to sleep.

His words make you smile, your heart flattering at his honest and soft words.

“I know I'll. No matter what you'll do and how you'll do it, I know I'm gonna love it.” you smile, feeling him do the same against your skin.

He pecks your shoulder, slowly lifting himself up as he slips out of you. His cum is already dripping down your ass, staining the sheets even more but you don't move. All you can focus is Jin's eyes staring into yours, a hidden meaning inside of them but all you can see is love. A pure love that makes your heart ache happily. You've never felt this kind of love.

“That's my promise. One day, I'll marry you and make you officially mine.” he promises, causing you to giggle.

“I'm already yours, you dummie.”

He gasps, faking a petulance. “But you'll have my surname and I get to call you my wife. And then, I'll make you nice and pregnant with my babies.”

You're not going to lie, his words have a huge effect on you and you know he's talking about future, but you already can't wait for it when the time comes. You're both still young to that kind of commitment, and you'd like to wait a little longer. But whatever the future holds for the two of you, you'll welcome it as long as it's by Jin's side.

“Look at you, here talking about babies.” you giggle, caressing your hands over his chest.

“If they get to be beautiful and smart like you, I want the whole army of them.” he says, your laughter echoing around the walls that sounds so blissfully to him.

A natural and soft smile spreads on his lips as he kisses you. Your lips mold together, creating a perfect rhythm that makes butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

“One day, maybe not the whole army but...” you trail off, making him laugh as he leans his forehead against yours.

“One day.” he says, eyes glinting with happiness and love.

Your own eyes mimic his – what are you supposed to do other than to nod and agree with a huge smile.

“One day.”

[barzzal]

Hi, the mat concept that I sent in was where he makes you cry during a fight and feels super guilty because he’s never seen you cry before

warnings: good ole angst and dui !!

it’s safe to say that you and mat were off to a rocky start. you were the typical dynamic of friends turned into lovers after spending a night drunk and stupid. thus, letting a series of one thing lead to another’s decide the course of your whole relationship.

the two of you began goofing around just for fun before finally realizing that it was actually leading to something even more than just sneaking around rooms and dinner parties you go to with your friends.

you eventually broke the news with the gang. they weren’t surprised and were rather thrilled that you two finally had the guts to tell it to everyone. since then, the two of you became each other’s halves.

mat was pretty content and frankly, happy for what he has with you. he was sure of feeling that way not until he began seeing you getting a little too close to his best mate, anthony for the past few weeks.

you were busy losing your sanity laughing over tito’s hilarious jokes to even notice that mat was already gone from your side. he spent his time sitting at the bar, with his gaze pinned on you and his bestfriend.

he can’t help but feel this inkling pang in his chest upon the sight he sees unfolding right before his eyes. your hand, travelling up to anthony’s arm as you laugh endlessly with him.

once you and tito met each other’s hands for a high five, that’s when he finally lost it. he drank whatever’s left of his whiskey before standing with his jaw clenched, leaving the glass behind him as he walked towards you.

you were cackling hard at how tito made an insanely accurate impression of mat when he came straight up behind him.

“there you are! i’ve been looking everywhere for you.” you say, smiling widely. definitely something that mat hated because he knows that he was the only one able to bring that out of you.

well, not until now.

“we need to go.” he orders in a tone you’ve never heard from him before.

mathew grabs you by the hand and treaded his way out of the bar without even saying goodbye to neither the boys nor their girlfriends.

“babe, is there something wrong?” you ask him as you clutched your purse close to your chest whilst you get dragged by your man.

𖥸

it was a dreadful and quiet ride for the two of you. mat didn’t even looked at you once and maintained his focus on the road. his free hand that was usually gripping your thigh, was on the steering wheel all while the other, he spent on massaging his nape.

you haven’t seen him this way which is why everything was totally new to you. you let him go on his way not until you got back to your apartment.

mat dropped the keys on the accent table and went straight to the couch to turn on his show.

once you dropped your things on the dining table, you walked towards him and got the remote off his hands to turn the tv off.

“okay, what’s going on?” you ask him, brows all furrowed, finally losing all might you had for the cold treatment you’ve been getting.

you see him clench his jaw and licked his bottom lip before he stands, walking straight past you to get one of his cold beers in the fridge.

“oh! alright, you’re just gonna ignore me then?” you scoff, your hand already resting on your waist.

but just like he was doing, mat didn’t utter a single word and just stood behind the counter, drinking his cold beer.

you immediately snatched the bottle off of him which caused him to spill the drink on his shirt. he only tutted and looked at you for the first time since you left the bar.

“stop ignoring me, barzal.” you warned.

mat smirks and lets out an irksome scoff. “why don’t you tell that to your new boyfriend?”

he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, bitterness pooling in his mouth as he remembers you almost clinging onto anthony’s arm.

“what?” an appalled look was what mat saw on your face. he ignores it anyway, and just took the beer you snatched from him from the counter.

“don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

puzzled and most certainly, annoyed by his audacity, you fold your arms to your chest and questioned him, “what the hell are you talking about?”

with a smug look on his face, he shakes his head, amused at how you were too insensitive to even realize that you have been way too friendly with his mate.

“why don’t you ask beauvi?” he sarcastically adds air quotes as he mimics your way of calling out beauvillier’s name.

“oh, so that is what this is about? huh?” you start, hands placed on your waist as you looked at him.

mat puts the bottle down so harsh that it nearly shattered in his hand. he walks past you as he aim for your bedroom door but you were quick to hold his arm and stop him.

“don’t you dare walk out on me.” you warn him, voice empty and cracking as the thought of finally having a real argument with him dawn on you.

“and what’re you gonna do if i did? laugh your ass like it’s the end of the goddamn world?” he snaps, gray eyes pinned on you so harshly for the first time.

“you know what? why don’t i call beauvillier and let him finish this?” he says, running his hand through his hair, admittedly not sparing an ounce of thought to whatever’s coming out of him.

“you’re an ass, mat. i can’t even believe you’d actually think of me that way.” you snarked as you let go of his arm.

“well how could i not when i know that’s basically how we started???”

mat didn’t exactly know if it was him being petty, or that it was just how jealous he got upon seeing how good you were with tito, but the words that slipped off of him made this petty argument go sideways.

“you’re fucking unbelievable.” you cussed.

you and mat haven’t really gotten into a fight ever since you started you relationship. sure, it was a rocky start but that doesn’t mean you don’t work things out, right?

but mathew’s words, even if it were far from being true, still pierced right through you. words that were enough to make you lose this fight when you failed to hold back your tears. you were just so frustrated at how immature and childish he was being. you didn’t want to make it a big deal, and you weren’t much of a crier either, but something about his words just made you feel foolish and incredibly small at the same time.

mat, however, was stunned when he saw you tear up in front of him. it was his first time to see you this way, and god be damned, he didn’t like any minute of it.

he wanted to take back everything he said but you immediately turned your back at him and ran to your room.

the loud bang of the door was more than enough to make him realize that he was completely out of line this time. he hated that he’d let his petty jealousness get a better hold of him. that for the first time, he might’ve even given you a reason to think about how you’d be better off without him— he was scared.

as you cried yourself to sleep that night, mat walks out of your apartment with only his keys in his hand and his all too heavy heart. he knows he’s going to make up for what he did but he has caused enough for the night. he didn’t want to screw it up all at once, much more lose you in the process just because he was too much of an ass.

[blocksandbloops]

May I interest you in some fem!hermit!Tommy fluff for you in this trying time?

This is set in an alternative version of @redorich 's hermit!Tommy AU. Diverging from the Dream SMP's raid on Hermitcraft. All you need to know is that family trees are convoluted, Tommy's name is Clementine. She's trans, we love her, she has wings and has adopted Grian as her weird almost twin brother.

After the whole "Dreamon" and "invasion" mess the Dream SMP folk didn't expect to hear much from the hermits besides the ones who attended MCC. They thought that the two servers would just continue to exist, independent of one another. Just drifting through the void mere inches apart but never really touching.

Oh how wrong they were.

The hermits were friendly but they had absolutely underestimated just how friendly.

Apparently, the moment Clementine so much as breathed a word about how much she missed her biological family, Scar -ever the kind and helpful mayor that he was- decided to throw a beach party!

Since Clemmy's extended family was pretty large and they didn't want anyone to feel left out, it was an open invitation to everyone on the Dream SMP as long as they behaved.

That point was driven home when a few people, like Antfrost and his unhealed, dog bitten asscheek, mentioned how upsetting the Hermits was definitely not a good idea.

(Deep down they knew that the reason they were really doing this was because the hermits were worried about them. The Dream SMP was just a bunch of traumatized children according to them. They weren't wrong in that assumption but no one wanted to admit that.)

So, when the day of the beach party finally dawned, they all put on their least threatening outfits and packed up their supplies, (where Tubbo got the surf board nobody wanted to question) and entered the portal just like they had done a few months prior.

A few things were different though, the sun was bright and beaming in the sky, soft puffy white clouds rolled by, only promising gentle shade instead of the dreary air of yesteryear.

The shopping district had been rebuilt from it's smoky ruins and they finally all had time to appreciate the lovingly built shops and roads. It looked so beautiful and vibrant, you could practically feel the fact that summer was in full swing.

The smell of nectar and sea salt drifted through the air, sweetening even the sourest of moods. This is what peace was to the hermits. This was their everyday. They were so lucky and they didn't even realize it.

Some people were taking notes of all the different building styles with bright eyes, hoping to replicate some of it when they got home, others were suddenly hit with a feeling of bitter inadequacy of it compared to their homes. Is this what a world without war could look like?

But, no matter the gloomy musings of the few, they were all here to let go for a day! To celebrate the good times and to kick back for seemingly the first time in forever.

Their welcome party this time simply consisted of one person.

It was a strange sight, seeing the Hermits' admin Xisuma without a mask on, wearing a god awful hawaiian shirt that Keralis had thrown at him with glee the moment he mentioned that he didn't have something to wear, and again, were those, gods forbid crocks?

"'Ello everyone! Wow this is quite the turn up. Scar wished he could be here to greet you all personally, but he's still too busy helping the others preparing for the barbecue, so you're stuck with me for the time being.

Now, if you'll kindly follow me, we set everything up pretty close to here, so we'll be there in a minute."

The walk over to the beach was short, but just as scenic as the rest of the server.

Warm, golden sand, gently lapping waves and lush plant life. The sound of the hermits' laughter and soft music filled the air as the smell of the previously mentioned barbecue proved a welcome distraction from whatever the hell was happening on the far right side of the beach (the ZIT trio built a karaoke machine. It was Zedaph's idea. It was also a horrible idea but they didn't seem to realize that yet.)

As they began to debate a plan of attack, no wait. ... fun? enjoyment? eh whatever.

A tall man jogged up to the group. Some people recognized him as Mumbo Jumbo, that one british guy with the mustache. Others, however, as that semi-scary redstone wizard who managed to create extremely powerful potion launchers during the invasion.

He was dressed just as down to earth as the others, holding a tall glass of lemonade in his hand and wearing a (quite goofy) sunhat he borrowed from Ren.

He was explaining something to X in hushed tones (something or other about a minor fire at the barbecue table?) When he looked past the gathering of guests and out towards the path that they had come from, and screeched.

"GRIAN PLEASE I'M HOLDING LEMONADE DON'T!" X reached over and grabbed the glass from his hands just in time for a cackling, feathered ball of something to crash into Mumbo, knocking him into the water with an audible "oof".

There was wild thrashing as the two tried to orient themselves, Grian somehow climbing onto Mumbo's back.

"CLEMMY! COME HELP ME DROWN MUMBO!" Grian waved towards a cluster of trees to their left, underneath which a small gathering of hermits was enjoying a bit of a reprieve from the sun.

"NOT YOU TOO!" came the mustachioed man's scream of distress.

Clementine, the whole terrifying six feet and three inches of a woman that she was, took off running to the water at full tilt towards the struggling brits.

Mumbo, having already formed a strategy in his head, did a perfect T-pose and feel backwards into the water, bringing down a screaming Grian with him. Clementine did a graceful swan dive into the water (how she executed that shall be left for viewer interpretation) and happily joined the fray, even the distressed calls of Stress behind her because "Gods damn it Clemmy! I spent an hour on your hair! And now it's ruined!" couldn't persuade her to give up on her mission to cause as much friendly chaos as possible.

She climbed out of the water a few minutes later, her hair a mess and a bright smile on her face.

"Techie! Wilby! Tubbo! Thank you guys so much for coming! I'm really glad that you could make it." She hugged them each close, enjoying the comfort of having them all together again.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Techno relaxed his posture, trying not to fidget too much. He was getting better with crowds but it was still a lot.

"You may think he's joking but he literally dragged Quackity all the way to the portal because he was too busy doing his eyeliner and would've made us late." Wilbur snickered when she leaned in to hug him, earnings him one of her patented ear-splitting laughs.

"I got a recording of it!" Tubbo proudly announced, pulling out his video camera

while still holding an arm around her.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT! LET ME HAVE SOME DIGNITY MAN!" The aforementioned Mr. Fattest Ass in the cabinet screamed indignantly as soon as he got within hearing range.

"Quackity you never had any dignity. It's too late for that." Techno flicked the duck shapeshifter on the head, earning him even more annoyed rambling which he just chose to ignore.

"Well, I'm glad that that's settled, now, I have some people I'd like for you to meet."

She directed them towards the group sitting in the shade, which consisted of False, (a now soaking wet) Grian, Stess, Mumbo (who also looked like a disgruntled cat that was just given a bath), Iskall and Ren.

Meanwhile Doc and Cleo had a little cornered off area they'd nicknamed the "cool kids club" (it was because around this time the sun got strong enough to actually burn her and Doc just felt slightly iffy about the water, since he was, ya know, half robot.)

Clemmy threw herself down on a blanket in front of a grumbling Stress who set about actually making her hair look presentable.

Niki sat down next to them and began discussing the merits of different styles to put Clemmy's hair into.

Ranboo sheepishly sat down next to Cleo's lawn chair folding all of his gangly limbs under himself.

Wilbur happily plopped himself down next to Ren on a blanket and began to hum along to the other's guitar.

Techno lay dow his cape, deciding that a nap was the best course of action in that moment.

Fundy hesitated for a second before going down to the shore to relax and just put his feet in the water for now.

Philza, the awkward dad that he was, chose to sit down close enough to the girls that he'd be able to hear what they were talking about without intruding.

Tubbo placed his stuff down by Clemmy's feet and ran out to the shore with his surf board in hand.

Going through so many conflicts in such a short amount of time really tires a person out, especially ones as young as the ones from the SMP so getting this afternoon of rest truly helped ease some of the stress given to them by recent events.

(Beach episode pog?)

Of course, this little get together wasn't without it's faults. About two hours in Doc accidentally trampled False's sand castle, who in retaliation teamed up with Cleo to dump water on him while he was relaxing.

This little conflict evolved into a battle to see who could build the biggest and grandest sand castle between "Team Himbo" and "Team Women" (one of those was coined by Clemmy). Puffy and Stress set up a good system of transporting sand from point A to point B, allowing them to move faster. False got placed on detailing duty while Niki brought refreshments for the rest of the team. Alyssa was mostly helping out wherever she could, as Cleo worked her armour stand magic to make their castle feel even more alive.

Clemmy just shouted encouragements and bullied the opposing team.

(The member list of Team Himbo has been redacted to avoid any drama about who might qualify as a himbo in the given circumstances)

Somehow the guys managed to convince Techno to join them, which immediately stacked odds in their favor to which Eret and Iskall, being the non-binary legends they are, decided to side with Team Women, now renamed to "Team Prettier Than You".

Their building contest laated for another hour before X decided to try to stop them (it wasn't because of the time. It was because TFC and Grian started shouting things about structural integrity and adding stone parts to the walls and the contestants actually listened when he decided that it was getting out of hand.)

Then it was time to actually enjoy the barbecue. Techno surprised everyone with how delicious his baked potatoes ended up. Beef also got to flex his skills a little with, as you guessed it, beef.

Tubbo and Tango sadly had to eat further away then everyone because the moment they got within ten feet of the fire something mysteriously combusted.

After that, the ZIT trio busted out the karaoke machine and the night went from good to great.

The old Team Star was dared to sing a rendition of Hermit Gang and everyone younger than 25 felt physical distress during some parts.

The sleepy bois (+Tubbo) sang a cover of "Your new boyfriend" (Techno got surprisingly into it) and then Wilbur swiped Ren's guitar to sing some Taylor Swift songs (accompanied by Tubbo on a synth he seemingly pulled out of nowhere) in that one weird accent he can do which had most people wheezing on the floor from laughter after the first song.

Niki threw down a german cover of Say So by Doja Cat. Grian, Phil and Tommy were unconsciously doing the parrot dancing thing. It was great.

Quackity sang something in spanish and Karl and Sapnap made over exaggerated swooning noises.

Skeppy and Bad did a duet. It was as adorable as it sounds.

Some other people also came on stage, belting out songs in such horridly broken voices that I'll spare you the details. Let's just say, nails scratching chalkboards would sound better.

And that was most of the festivities over with.

The last thing on the agenda? A meteor shower. How did they set it up? Clemmy's weird star child thing. The aforementioned girl was huddled close together with her family as they watched the comets streak across the clear sky (all electronics and artificial lights were shut off for the night) and Melohi played from a jukebox in the corner.

Fundy was laying his head in Dream's lap, the other boy was softly threading his fingers through his almost fiance's orange hair while leaning heavily on George and trying not to let sleep claim him as it had the fox (no one knew how this happened, all they were aware of is that the three had disappeared sometime during the sand castle contest only to reemerge having finally talked things through and come to an agreement that they all seemed happy with).

Ranboo, Niki, Puffy and Eret were collapsed in a happy pile just vibing.

The sleepy bois, who were for once actually sleepy, all wore matching flower crowns braided together by Stress's experienced fingers (and Wilbur's rather clumsy ones). Phil and her had managed to come to an agreement of unofficial joint custody after he witnessed Techno embarrassedly lean down to let her place a crown of golden flowers upon his head and saw his internal beam of pride when she called him "handsome".

The boys never really had a mother he mused, maybe she could teach them kindness where he couldn't.

Another surprise addition to the family was the owner of the third pair of wings in the cuddle pile. Phil didn't expect to end up with any more children at this point in his life, but Grain and Clemmy were practically attached at the hip and it felt wrong to even think about separating them.

He only hoped that those two wouldn't cause too much chaos especially when teamed up with Tubbo.

In the end, everyone drifted off to sleep, one by one they closed their eyes on their most perfect day. Praying for whatever might be out there, that they'll have many more moments just like this.

Well,

almost everyone.

Callahan chuckled as he walked back up to his spot with Alyssa farther away from the others. shutting off his camera after cycling through the pictures he took of everyone looking goofy while sleeping (His favorite is the one where Clemmy was very visibly munching on Techno's hair). He may not use those as blackmail but he sure ass hell was going to tease them about it later. He fell asleep there on that hill, drifting off to comforting rest like the others.

After that? Life moved on.

It was chaotic sure, and not perfect.

But it was theirs. They grew up slowly, learning to be kind to one another, how to grow with one another.

Life wasn't always perfect but hey, they had each other. And in the end? That's all that mattered.

[generallybarzy]

hey there, stranger. viii

one, two, three, four, five, six, seven an: merry christmas to those of you who celebrate!!! I meant to get this out on Christmas eve but I worked until our store closed last night so I literally just finished this right now! chapter nine will be out tomorrow, I just decided to break it into 2 parts, christmas eve and christmas day, so that you could read it without having to wait too long! This chapter and the next are really sweet, with a liiiiiiittle hint of foreshadowing here and there. Hope you enjoy! word count: 2.9k

Christmas approached faster than you expected.

You had made up your mind earlier that Christmas Eve into Christmas morning would be the day you spent in Mat’s bed and finally stayed with him. You couldn’t be more overjoyed that Mat had decided to stay in New York over Christmas. You honestly didn’t know what you would do without him. Every second that you didn’t spend in class or babysitting for the Seidenberg’s- whose children were very interesting in your dating life now- you were with Mat. Out on dates, or just at home with him, resting. Things felt right with him. Almost too right.

It was Christmas Eve, it was chilly and all you wanted was to cuddle under some blankets and watch TV with him, so when you saw him come to the living room with your shoes and jacket in hand, your face dropped.

“We’re not going out, are we?”

He laughed at your instant reaction and nodded. “Just for a bit. But I have an early Christmas gift for you first.” He moved from the hallway to where you were on the couch, stopping by the tree to pick up the biggest of the very few presents you had set there for each other.

“Mat, this better not be something expensive.”

“Well-”

“I thought we agreed to keep our Christmas shopping light?”

“It’s not expensive! It’s not too expensive, I promise.” He handed you the box, wrapped haphazardly in red paper and held together with what looked like a whole roll of tape. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at it again like the first time you saw it.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped into Mat’s apartment was the two boxes under the tree the two of you had put up the other night. After you had agreed to spend Christmas with him, he immediately pulled you out to a tree farm and hauled it up the stairs to his apartment, claiming that you would decorate it so pretty and fill the house with presents. They were wrapped almost grotesque, in a way that you knew Mat had never wrapped a gift before, and you couldn’t help but laugh at them.

“What?” Mat mocked an offended look as you stood in his living room, laughing at his work.

“Have you never wrapped a gift before?”

“Hey, it has character!”

“It sure does have character. You sure you want me to open it and ruin this masterpiece?” You said now, taking the box in your lap. Mat just smiled and nudged you playfully, urging you to open it. You tore apart the paper, your heart soaring at Mat’s eyes watching you gently as you finally opened up the box under the paper. “Oh my God, Mat.” There, settled in the box, was a pair of brand new, clean white skates.

Mat smiled at your reaction. “Sooo, we’re going skating tonight.”

“What? I- I can’t skate?”

“Yeah, I figured.” The smirk on his face lit up a fire deep inside you. “I can teach you. I think it’d be a fun date, yeah?”

As nervous as you were to skate with him, you couldn’t help the smile spread across your face. “So you think a good date idea is me humiliating myself?”

“Yeah!” He laughed. That loud cackle that made your heart glow. “C’mon, get your coat, it’s chilly.”

“Rockefeller?”

“Absolutely.”

The walk from Mat’s apartment to the subway was chilly, but as you snuggled into his side while sitting on the subway train, your arm tucked under his black plaid coat, tight around his hoodie-clad waist, and his arm heavy across your shoulders, you knew there was no where else you’d rather be. He held your hand and laughed as you jumped out the subway doors the second they opened and dashed for the stairs. Mat couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you climbed the stairs back into the city and gazed around, the Christmas lights making your eyes gleam in wonder. It was a type of beauty he hadn’t seen before. A beauty not in physical appearance- even though you had plenty of that- but a beauty in how wonderful you were, how the city lights hit the joy in your eyes, and the way Mat’s heart pounded and his face warmed up when he saw you.

I want you so bad right now.

When the Christmas tree came into view after the short walk, Mat could feel the way your arm tightened around him, squeezing to get his attention. “Mat, look at the tree!” It was cute, almost childlike how excited you were. He chuckled at your outburst, and you punched his side slightly. “Shut up, this is my first Christmas here.”

“No, no, it’s cute.”

What did I do right to be with you right now?

You didn’t see his pink face.

You didn’t feel nervous about falling on your ass and making a fool of yourself, not until you were sitting at the edge of the rink at the Rockefeller Center, with Mat kneeling in front of you and tying your laces. You watched his big hands move skillfully, as if tying skates was second nature to him at this point.

“All done.” He stood with ease, his own skates making him appear so, so much taller than he already was, not even bothered by the fact that he was balancing on blades, but you had a little more trouble, your legs shaking the moment you stood up. “Hey, hey, I got you.” Mat smiled, a little bit, teasingly, his hands finding your waist. “We’re not even on the ice, babe.”

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it.”

He laughed, boisterous and loud. “I promise, you will. Trust me?” His hands found yours and pulled, urging you towards the ice. “I’ll take care of you. I’m good at this.”

Like a fool, you smiled.

“Alright, I trust you.”

Mat’s first step onto the ice was easy, it was habit, like the ice was like a home to him at this point, as if he was even more comfortable gliding over the ice than walking on land. You, on the other hand, were much less graceful. Mat held his hands out to you, and you took them carefully after almost falling immediately after stepping into the rink. “I hope you’re excited to see me fall.”

He smiled. “I’ve never been more excited.”

The first lap around the rink took five long, giggly minutes, Mat’s hands big and warm and holding yours tight, skating ever so gracefully backwards and glancing back to make sure he wasn’t about to run into anyone while also making sure you weren’t about to fall. "C'mon, babe." He smiled as you stumbled for the hundredth time that night.

"Sorry I'm not a professional like you, Mat."

"No, I like you like this. It's cute." You were about to blush, to tell Mat that he was so cheesy and soft, when he continued on. "Cute like… endearing, like how we laugh at a really clumsy deer learning to walk"

"Ouch, Mat!" You couldn't help but laugh as you faked annoyance and smacked his arm lightly. He stopped skating abruptly and let you glide into his chest.

"What? It's the truth, Bambi."

His hand fell to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him and pressing your hips to his. It was nothing but a simple, helpful act to keep you from slipping to the ground, but something in how close you were pressed into his hard body made your tummy flip and turn. Your hands slid up his chest and to his face, cupping his cheeks in your gloved hands and pulling him down to give him a quick peck. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. It was just you, Mat, the ice, and the sparkling Christmas Tree towering over you. There was nobody else around. For that second.

“Let’s keep going, Mat.”

He smiled, his cheeks pink and warm from the kiss. “You sure? A few minutes ago you were begging me to get you off.”

“I trust you. Don’t let me fall.”

“Of course not.”

He moved to your side, his arm around your waist, and helped guide you to move your feet, and soon, with his help, you were moving along. Mat couldn’t take his eyes off of you, simple as that. The little concentrated look on your face as you focused on making your feet move the right way looked so adorable. He couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to call you his.

And he didn’t notice the groups of girls with their phone’s camera aimed at you or the whispers they made to their friends.

He pecked your cheek again. “Are you having a nice Christmas Eve?”

“Are you kidding?” You looked up at him, your arm tightening under his jacket, around his hoodie-clad waist subconsciously to steady yourself. “This is amazing. You know what would make it better?”

“What?”

“If it would snow.”

“Hmm.” Mat motioned up to the sky, “Like that?” You turned your face to the sky, where snowflakes had started to come down lightly, sparkling in the lights.

“Oh my god.” You whispered in awe, your cheeks warm.

"All the best things happen softly." Mat repeated your words from a few weeks ago, his voice soft and eyes in awe of your beauty as the snow began to lay, sparkling, in your hair. You turned towards him, cheeks pink and eyes warm, and leaned up to beg for a kiss.

"You're amazing, Mat."

"Not as amazing as you."

"C'mere."

He sunk into your kiss, leaning the two of you against the edge of the rink so that others could skate around you. You smiled against each other's lips, absolutely giddy and chilly and craving your lover's warmth. Mat's hand glided from yours up to the curve of your neck, his chilly fingers dipping under your hair and making you giggle. The way your lips were curving up against his made him giddy, and he mirrored you, and soon you two were nothing but a giggly mess, surrounded by snowflakes and twinkling Christmas lights.

And the rumors you didn’t hear yet.

"Damn." Mat broke away first.

"I'll never get over kissing you, Mat."

"Same here."

"You're a good kisser."

"Not as good as you." He smirked, rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip. "So, I had planned to go window shopping along the avenue, but if you're too cold or your feet hurt, we can just go home and cuddle?"

"Hmm." Your feet did hurt, now that you thought about it, but the idea of being out in the city with Mat longer was tempting. "Well, I do like being out here with you. But nothing beats cuddles." Mat nodded, just absolutely gleaming that you had finally warmed up to that type of closeness. "Anyway, we have next Christmas to go window shopping, right?"

"Next Christmas?"

"Yeah, next Christmas."

So you were implying that you'd be here at least all year. Maybe more. And Mat couldn't handle that. His heart pounded in his chest.

"So I haven't scared you off yet?"

You laughed. "No, the opposite, really."

"That's good."

You stood in each other’s arms in comfortable silence for a few more moments, just enjoying each other. He hadn’t scared you away. He had made you more and more sure that he was gonna be worth it. He was here for the long run, and there was very little he could do to scare you away- that, you knew.

"Wanna head home, baby?"

"As much as I love skating with you, yeah. I'm getting chilly."

“Cuddles it is, then.”

------

You stumbled into Mat’s apartment, giggling and rubbing your hands together, shaking the snow off your clothes. Mat pulled off his wet jacket and shoes and rushed to the thermostat, turning the central air system as warm and cozy as it could get. You kicked off your shoes and dropped your jacket and skates by his door, following him into his bedroom and snickering at how he was already changed into sweats and was pulling a thick crew neck over his head.

He looked up, his hair still a wreck from pulling on the sweater, to see you in the doorway, still shivering through your giggles. He pulled you close and wrapped his arms around you, swallowing you in his warmth. "C’mon, we can’t have you cold. Go through my drawers, babe. Take any clothes you want, and find me in the living room, alright?"

"Okay."

It didn’t take you long to decide on something of his to wear. Easily your favorite article of clothing of his, the soft light gray hoodie was lying on his bed, just calling for you to grab. You slipped it over your head and grabbed a pair of his sweats, pulling the strings tight around your waist and rolling up the ankles. After grabbing some of his large socks from the drawer, you caught sight of yourself in his mirror. So, this was you now, huh? Cuddling up in your boyfriend’s oversized clothes, in his apartment, about to go snuggle on his couch. You were almost dizzy with emotion, and you couldn’t stop smiling at yourself as you looked at yourself in his clothes. You were someone’s girlfriend, someone’s favorite person. Again. And this time you felt safe in his arms. You felt loved.

“(Y/N)?” Mat called from the living room.

You took another deep breath and opened the door. Mat was standing by the couch, in big, fuzzy socks and sweatpants and his fluffy sweater, holding two steaming mugs.

“Hey, Maty.”

“Hey, baby.” He laughed through the word, his eyes running up and down your figure. Your figure was hidden behind his baggy clothes, but he had never loved you more than at this moment. You were wearing his clothes. You were in his clothes. There was something about seeing you like this that was so much more beautiful than anything else. More beautiful than the first time he saw you, than when you babysat together, than when you cuddled for the very first time. There was something beautifully intimate about seeing you in his clothes. As if in a way the two of you were becoming more and more intertwined every date. He finally realized he’d been staring and sucked in a breath. “Thought you jumped out the window and ran away or something.”

You laughed. “No, never.”

He grinned and held out the mugs as you moved towards him. “I made us hot chocolate.”

“Is it good? I know you’re not very good at cooking.” You took the mug anyway, giving him teasing eyes.

“Ouch!” Mat laughed and took a sip of his own chocolate. “Hey, c’mon, it’s pretty good!” He watched with a proud, gleaming smile as you took a sip, and you could barely taste it when he continued. “Right? Isn’t it so good?”

“It is, baby.”

“Wanna, maybe, watch some Netflix before going to bed?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Mat’s couch was large, large enough for him to stretch his long, six-foot body out on, and stretch out he did, pulling you down beside him. He tucked you back against his chest, his thick arms around your waist and his big feet nudging at yours under the blanket. As the night dragged on, the snow coming down heavier against the windows, you could feel his breath against your neck, you could feel it getting softer and softer as he fell asleep. “Baby,” You turned towards him, lifting his face between your hands. He hummed in response, his eyes opening and his lips smiling. “Let’s go to bed. You look sleepy.”

“I am.”

“So am I.”

“Let’s go.” Mat rolled off the couch sleepily and lifted you.

“Mat, you don’t have to carry me, bubs. Looks like you’re gonna fall over.”

“I wanna.”

You laughed when he hoisted you up in his arms and reached for the remote to turn off the TV. He stumbled towards the bedroom, giggling and nearly falling over, before shutting off the lights and dropping you onto the bed, crawling up next to you and making the bed bounce as he flopped his heavy body down.

“Mat.” You pulled his face up from the pillow to look at you. “C’mere, I wanna hold you like the other night.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Mat had never felt more comfortable in his life than when he had his head resting on your chest, your fingers tangled in his hair and your arm around his shoulders. And you’d never felt more safe than when his arms were around you, his lips against your skin and his weight heavy on top of you. You’d never felt this safe with any other man in your life, and Mat was so, so gentle and amazing to you.

“Did you have a nice night?”

“It was amazing.”

“Mmm.” Mat squeezed you in his arms. “I’m so happy you’re warming up to me now. I’m so happy we’re clicking so well. I was afraid you wouldn’t...”

“I am. I’m comfortable. We click so well, baby. I’m sorry it was a little difficult at first.”

“‘It’s my fault too.” His voice was sleepy and soft as his hand found your cheek in the dark, his thumb rubbing circles on your skin. “Will you stay in the morning?”

This time, you weren’t unsure. This time, you knew how you felt. This time, you wouldn’t run.

“Of course, bubs.”

[qvid-pro-qvo]

Hello sweetie. May I have 7) “I dreamt about you last night.”, 14) “Can I have this dance?”, “I couldn’t live without you.” and “I’m yours, in every way possible.” with Sonny Carisi (I'm heads over heels for that man) with female reader, please. Thanks :) - @reading--mermaid

for @reading--mermaid. sonny carisi x female!reader.

word count: 2240

rating: e for everyone, because a wedding brings everyone together, for better or for worse, but in this case definitely for the better (pretty much fluff! tw: mentions of alcohol.) 

-

For the moment, you remember why you wish you could be an only child.

“You’re bringing your boyfriend. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

“You know, when I dreamt about you last night, I completely forgot about the part where you’re absolutely insane,” you comment mildly. Your hand reaches for your glass, and Jane just sighs. “Guess it just slipped my mind.”

“Uh-huh. So he’s coming, then?”

Your sister is glaring at you from across the table, but you don’t look at her, focusing instead on the brunch menu.

“Seems like I might try the scallops today,” you hum, and she just rolls her eyes.

“You’re allergic to seafood, dumbass, and you’re bringing your boyfriend.”

“No, I’m not, Jane.” Your voice is firm, and when she narrows her eyes at you, it’s your turn to give the dramatic roll. “Look. I don’t want to bring him. Barb’s my friend, and I love her, and I’m excited for her, but that wedding is going to be shitshow. The last thing I want is to scare him off because dear old Uncle Phil decides to get too rowdy and Aunt Julia decides to drink two bottles of wine instead of one at the reception.”

“That’s just how weddings work,” Jane counters, and when you open your mouth again to argue, she raises her hand. “It’s a shitshow, but it’s sweet. You’re a bridesmaid, sweetheart. And unless you want one of the bridal party trying to flirt with you all night, your boyfriend is the perfect protection. Plus, I want to meet him!”

With a sigh, you lift up your hand to tie your hair back, your scrunchie forcing the mess into a bun. “You’ve met him,” you say, with no lack of petulance, but Jane just sighs.

“Once. For like, ten minutes, in passing. You’re both always busy, and not only that, but I know Mom and Dad wouldn’t mind meeting the guy that you’re basically swooning over every time you talk to them on the phone. How long’s it been that you’ve been gushing about him? A year?”  

That makes your brows raise, and Jane can surely see them even over the menu. “They’re coming, then? For sure?”

“For sure. Uncle Phil paid for their flight. Said he wanted the whole family there, and that means every brother they can manage.” There’s a moment of silence as Jane glances around. The waiter still hasn’t come for your order, and so she busies herself with a drink of water before speaking again, letting you ruminate on the fact. “Just. Think about it. Please? For me?”

So, you do. You think. And while the prospect of Sonny meeting your… eclectic family is terrifying; you can’t help but think that he’s… well. He’s Sonny. And when you think about him meeting your parents, finally…

With a sigh, you put down the menu, interlock your fingers, and when you look up, your sister is flashing her puppy eyes at you.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll ask. And if he’s not busy, which he always is, I’ll bring him,” you relent, just to get her to stop looking at you like that. There are practically tears in her eyes. Immediately she breaks out into a grin, a little cackle added on. “But you owe me the name of your firstborn. I don’t care what David says, sister’s honor.”

“No shit,” Jane returns. You shake on it, making you chuckle. “Easiest deal I’ve ever made.”

-

Sonny says yes. Immediately. No hesitation. It’s a testament to how fantastic he is that when you bring it up over takeout that night, he seems absolutely delighted at the prospect.

Of course, you try to warn him.

“You might not be available the day of,” you point out.

His response is easy as he takes off his jacket, drapes it over the back of your couch. “If you give me the date, I’ll take time off right now. Liv’ll be fine with it, you know that.”

“My parents will be there,” you warn, and while the moment gives him pause, he ends it with a smile.

“Good.”

Good. Good. To meeting the parents? You want to poke him, see if he’s an alien or something, but he’s still smiling and all you really can do is kiss him for it.

“You know, all of my family is a pain in the ass,” you state bluntly, a last ditch effort. He snorts, and you reach to stab him with your plastic fork, the takeout he brought home not yet opened up and dug into. “I’m serious! It’ll be a mess, okay, and if I can spare you that –“

He just chuckles, reaching to pull you into his embrace. You melt into it – by this point his button down is off, leaving just his undershirt. He smells like home, and you can’t help but sink into the feeling. “Sweetheart, that’s family. Trust me, all right? You’ve met my sisters, you’ve met my parents. It’s about time that I return the favor.”

When he kisses your temple, you’re realizing with a twist of your lips that he’s unfortunately pretty damn great.

“You know, you won’t be able to really talk to me until the first dances,” you tell him, just for shits and giggles, and that earns you another kiss, this one on your cheek, your neck, your jaw, behind your ear.

“But I’ll be able to see you.”

So, it’s done. The car is rented, the hotel is booked, and when the weekend of comes around, and the two of you hop into your car and make the three-hour ride up.

Of course, the wedding is about as much of a pain as you expected it to be.

It should be noted that you love being there for your cousin, and she looks absolutely stunning her gown. It’s not the gown, or your own dress (which is plain and deep burgundy, styled perfectly with a matching lip). It’s not the ceremony, which makes you tear up, as her and her wife seal the deal with a kiss that you hoot and holler at. It’s not the food or the drinks or the venue or anything else that came together for Barb’s perfect day.

It’s the family.

Aunt Julia goes just as hard as you expect her to. Uncle Phil’s jokes are crude, but… inevitably get a laugh from one side of the family or the other. Your nieces are chaos incarnate, and half your time as bridesmaid is spent wrangling the dog that was made the ring bearer, your bathrobe getting caught on every doorhandle in the place. By the time the reception comes around, you’re exhausted and close to tipping over, navigating the intricacies of a big family with poise and grace you’re sure God probably gave you just for that day or something.

It’s a mess.

It’s your mess.

And Sonny, that day? Well. Sonny… is Sonny.

Sonny helps you catch the dog the first time it escapes (and the second time, and the third time). Sonny, due to some last-minute stomach bug, ends up helping out as usher, and makes every single family member he escorts to their row and aisle and seat smile. Sonny, at his place at the table where your parents sit, spends the whole night chatting them up, and you and your sister at the table with the bride and groom, can only watch from a distance.

“He’s crushing it,” Jane tells you. David’s sitting there, too, and he’s also enraptured with your boyfriend. The weariness of the day starts to wear off, and now that the pictures are done the drink in front of you is white wine and your belly is full. “Don’t look now, but I think Dad’s writing the invitations for Thanksgiving.”

There’s a pride that fills you, then. It’s been coming the whole day, but in that moment, you feel like you’re about to burst. You’re grinning, and when he glances over to where you are, well.

“You know what? Let him,” you say, and your eyes don’t leave Sonny as he winks and goes back to his story. “He really is crushing it.”

Soon the meal is done. There’s cake, and laughter, and you watch as Barb shoves her piece into Meredith’s face with unbridled glee. At that point you look around for your boyfriend, but he’s nowhere to be found. Neither are your parents for that matter, and you’re sliding out of your heels so you can troll around, eating cake, looking around for them.

Eventually, though, they come back. It’s in the middle of the first dance when you feel the familiar presence behind you, and his hands move to wrap around your waist as you watch the brides sway together, the rest of their lives ahead of them.

“Just in time,” you tease. “I thought I’d have to go solo out there.”

He turns you, so your vision of the brides is now full of him. You haven’t got to linger on it yet, but right here and now, he looks stunning. While the men in the bridal parties have black suits, Sonny’s is a beautiful navy, with a pocket square that matches the color of your dress (you’re almost ninety percent sure it’s from that lawyer he knows, but you don’t bring it up, kind of hoping he’ll keep the full ensemble). “And keep the world from seeing my awesome dance moves? No way.”

You giggle. The wine, the meal, the end of the day approaching. You’re loose, and he’s smiling, which makes you grin. “Saw you dodging the chocolatey fingers of my nieces and baby cousins,” you point out, and his eyes widen for a second before he glances around, peeks over your shoulder.

“Yeah, just, uh, don’t tell ‘em where I am. I think it’s part of their game to see who gets the most fingerprints on me by the end of the night.”

The DJ announces the end of the first dance, welcoming the bridal parties onto the floor. Sonny lights up at this, and offers his hand to you. “Can I have this dance, beautiful?”

Your smile softens, just a tad. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The music is slow, but not glacial, and Sonny starts it off by holding you proper. Soon enough, though, you’re moving into each other, and your head is resting on his shoulder, the slow sway of the brides what you’re mimicking. It’s gentle, and sweet, and for the moment you allow yourself to close your eyes.

Everything else slips away. All that’s left is the music and Sonny against you. Your dress brushes against your feet, still bare and cold against the dance floor, but nothing can bring you out of this ecstasy.

His voice is low against your ear, almost raspy as the song fades into something new, and the DJ announces the rest of the group can join with their significant others. “You know, I had a good time with your parents,” he murmurs, and you laugh lazily against him.

“I noticed. Be careful, I think my mom was thinking of kidnapping you so you can tell her all the Carisi family recipes.”

“Now those are top secret,” he informs you, seriousness in his tone, and when you pull back to look at him there’s mirth, even with his little pout.

“Obviously. I’ll distract, and you’ll hit the road.”

He laughs now, and it’s easy. It’s like breathing, the two of you. “Right. Well. We did talk about other things, while I was ensuring the safety of my family’s legacy.”

That peaks your interest, and you raise a manicured brow. “Like what?”

For a moment, he pauses. He’s caught, looking at you, under the lights, and for a moment you think he’s not going to say anything at all. But then he leans in, presses your foreheads together, and the world stops.

“I told ‘em… I told ‘em I’m yours, in every way possible. I told ‘em how I couldn’t live without you, and I told ‘em how I don’t want to.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and when you blink a couple of tears fall. “Sonny…”

“I told them, how one day, I’m gonna propose, and I’m gonna ask you to marry me. And I told them, how I really, really, hope you say yes.” His voice is definitely raw, now, and your swallow is tight. “You don’t have to say anything right now. Of course not, I’m not proposing now, but. I just… I need you to know how much you mean to me. How much being a part of your family, how much it means to me. And… I hope you want to be a part of mine.”

The slow music ends. The DJ is cheering now, and the crowd is clapping, and soon something more upbeat starts. But you’re stopped, in the middle of the dance floor, and before you can think you’re pulling him into a deep kiss, pressing up into it on your toes.

When you pull back, your mascara is running. But you don’t care. You couldn’t possibly care less. “If you think I’m saying anything but yes, whenever the hell you ask me, Dominick, I –“

He kisses you again. And when the world fades away once more, it’s because the two of you know that your whole lives are ahead of you, too.

[iam93percentstardust]

AU-gust Day 13: Rock Band

Requested by @justsomeoneunordinary for a Winterironhawk AU!

Also on ao3 here

~

Bucky checks his phone as he staggers down the hallway, Clint’s arm wrapped around his waist. Performing always takes a lot out of him and tonight’s show in New York was particularly hard since he and Steve are homeboys and Clint always likes to play that up.

“You doing okay?” Clint asks and then nearly walks right into a trashcan.

Bucky rolls his eyes. For all of Clint’s grace on the stage, he’s far more clumsy off of it. “Maybe I should be asking you that.”

“Hey, that trashcan jumped right out in front of me,” Clint snarks.

“Oh sure and I’ll bet a big green monster even pushed it, right?”

“Boys, boys, settle down,” Nat says idly, twirling her drumsticks like she’s going to hit one of them with it. Bucky wouldn’t put it past her; she’s done so before.

Clint maturely sticks his tongue out at her, eliciting a sigh from Steve, walking a few steps behind them, and a laugh from Sam. Nat just whacks Clint over the head with one of the drumsticks.

Bucky rolls his eyes again and goes back to his phone. Children, he works with children. He’s got one notification, a text from Tony. He grins, unable to resist smiling at the notification. Tony always sends them something during the show. He calls it his good luck selfie. Bucky calls it incentive to hurry back to the hotel room. He opens the text, expecting to see Tony in whatever god-awful city-themed lingerie he’s picked up for this leg of the tour, and instead sees a brief reminder that he and Clint have that interview with Everhart before they’re done for the night.

“Did Tony text us?” Clint asks, hooking his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tilts his phone so he can read the message and Clint frowns. “That’s not his usual message.”

“More of those lingerie photos?” Sam asks. Bucky scowls at him. It’s bad enough that Sam accidentally saw one of Tony’s pictures but now he teases them about it after every show like Tony isn’t still the hottest thing they ever saw even when he’s wearing Big Ben panties.

“No,” Clint pouts. “Just some dumb message about that interview we’ve got.”

Sam catches up to them and glances over the message. “Hmm maybe he’s finally wised up and dumped your sorry asses so he can go out with me instead.”

Bucky growls, thrusts his phone into Clint’s chest, and takes off after a cackling Sam all the way down the hall to the room the venue set aside for the interview where he finally catches up to him. He’s giving Sam a noogie when the rest of the band joins them.

“Buck, let Sam go,” Steve orders. The bassist shouldn’t be allowed to give him directions, he laments in his mind but everyone knows that you don’t disobey a Steve order so he drops his arms, holding his hands up in surrender. Sam scrambles away from him to duck behind Nat, who takes one step to the side so she’s no longer hiding him.

“So we’ll see you back at the green room?” Nat asks him and Clint.

“Sure you don’t want to do this interview with us?” Clint asks.

She laughs. “Not on your life.” Fair enough. Everhart always gives them hardball questions so most of the band doesn’t do interviews with her if she doesn’t specifically ask for them and this time she’d only asked for him and Clint.

He passes his guitar off to Steve and then shoulders through the door, Clint right on his heels. Everhart is waiting for them just inside, looking as perfectly polished as ever for someone who just came from a rock concert.

“Ma’am,” he says politely because his ma raised a nice boy and also because it irritates the hell out of Everhart to be referred to like an old lady.

Sure enough she purses her lips and he bites back a grin. He sits down in the seat she waves him into, Clint sitting beside him so he can throw his legs over Bucky’s lap, and asks, “So what did you want to ask us?”

As they expected, Everhart starts them out with small questions and twenty minutes later, they’ve covered just about everything under the sun, from their upcoming album to this tour to their fanbase on Twitter and Bucky’s starting to think that maybe they’re going to get out of this easily when she asks, “So rumors are building again that your relationship is in trouble. What do you have to say to those allegations?”

Bucky scowls and Clint tenses beside him. The problem is, after an entire childhood spent in the spotlight, Tony denounced his claim to his father’s empire, disappeared into the shadows, and declared to his friends that he never wanted to be famous again. Bucky and Clint had never had a problem with it but that had been before the band took off. Afterwards, things had gotten a little more tricky. They still didn’t really have a problem with it and they certainly weren’t going to push Tony to do something he didn’t want to do but it was difficult having to pretend to the world that Bucky and Clint were the couple and Tony was just a friend who tagged along on tour sometimes but otherwise spent most of his time at a Montessori school in Manhattan teaching small children how to read.

They don’t want to push—they don’t—but the distance means that it’s hard sometimes to keep their hands off their other boyfriend in public.

And sometimes they forget that they’re not nobodies anymore and somebody takes a picture of Bucky’s hand lingering on the small of Tony’s back and posts it to Twitter because heaven forbid celebrities have any sort of private life.

“They’re just rumors,” Clint says easily. “We’re touchy feely kind of people.”

“Maybe you’re touchy feely,” Bucky says with a laugh that he doesn’t feel. “I’ve been told I exude fuck off vibes.”

Everhart smiles thinly. “So that’s all it is. Just three friends having a good time?”

“Ma’am, you’ve seen the way Clint and I interact on stage. You really think we could hide another relationship for so long?” Bucky deadpans, challenging her to say something.

She frowns again but doesn’t dispute his claim. Instead she packs up and says, “As always, a pleasure getting to interview you.” As she’s leaving, she pauses in the door to tell them, “You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are. One of you is going to mess up and then your whole faked-for-the-cameras relationship will be over.”

Bucky snarls and lunges at the door, stopped only by Clint grabbing onto him. He hates it when people insinuate that somehow, because he and Clint are happy, they’re faking their relationship for publicity. He and Clint spent enough of their childhoods unhappy because of Bucky’s dad and Clint’s brother; why would they want to spent their adulthood just as miserable?

“It doesn’t matter,” Clint soothes though he has to be irritated as Bucky is. “Come on, we’re going to go back to the rest of the band. We’re going to get drunk on whatever shitty vodka Nat’s brought this time and then we’re going to go back to the hotel and fuck Tony through the mattress.”

It startles a laugh out of Bucky but he’s still not in a great mood by the time they reach the green room. “I just don’t see why she has to say things like that,” he complains as he pushes open the door. “It’s—”

He stops as his gaze falls on the person draped over Nat’s lap. Clint runs into him with an “Oof” and a “Bucky, what the fuck?”

“Tony, doll?” Bucky asks.

Clint exclaims, “Tony?”

Tony launches himself out of Nat’s chair and at Bucky, who immediately catches him up in a kiss. “Hey, my turn, my turn,” Clint protests, pawing at the two of them. “I haven’t seen Tony in six hours either.”

He thinks he hears Nat say, “Disgustingly cute,” but he’s too busy watching Clint and Tony kiss to really care.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, pressing another kiss to Tony’s earlobe. Tony doesn’t usually come to their shows. He tried once not long after their first album came out but he’d been kidnapped one (or twenty) too many times at a big event to really feel comfortable. He had left less than half an hour in and when Bucky and Clint had come back to the hotel that night, they’d found Tony in one of the worst anxiety attacks they’d ever seen him in. They never asked him to come to another show.

“Wanted to support you two since I know how much you hate Everhart,” Tony replies.

“He got here only a few minutes before the show ended,” Steve says. “Sharon drove him.”

Bucky gives a quick nod to Steve’s girlfriend, silently thanking her. “You didn’t have to do that, doll,” he murmurs.

“Hmm missed you too much,” Tony replies. “This tour is too long.”

“Alright, come on, we’re blocking the door,” Clint tells the two of them, walking them backward to one of the couches. He trips over his own feet and practically falls onto the couch, catching Tony before he can fall too. Bucky lands next to them, curling up into Clint’s side.

He catches Nat taking a picture of the three of them and frowns at her. She should know better than to post it. A moment later, his phone chimes with a text from her. Don’t worry, I’m not that stupid, her text reads and he flashes her an apologetic grin. Maybe he’s just little on edge from Everhart.

It chimes again, this time with the picture she’d taken of them. He smiles down at it and makes it his phone’s home screen. It’s a cute picture of them and no one can get into his phone anyway so he’s not worried about someone seeing that.

“You should be paying attention to me,” Tony pouts. “What are you doing?”

He leans over and shows him the picture, brushing a kiss over Tony’s cheek as he does. Tony takes the phone and stares at it before saying, “We’re cute in that. Send it to me.”

“Okay, doll,” he agrees, relaxing into the couch and letting Tony’s warmth bleed into him, relaxing him from the stress of the show and interview.

[elizabear]

body language will do the trick

OK, so I know this is going to be fully AU in about five seconds when The Falcon and the Winter Soldier airs, but those couples counseling scenes in the trailer got me WAY TOO EXCITED and I really couldn't help myself.

Title: body language will do the trick

Rating: Explicit

Category: M/M

Relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes (background Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanoff)

Additional tags: frenemies to lovers, coworkers to lovers, couples counseling, because sam and bucky can’t stop flirting at work, post-avengers endgame, but it’s au because, steve rogers isn’t old, and natasha romanoff lives, captain america sam wilson, shield agent bucky barnes, past steve rogers/bucky barnes, but it’s minor, bucky and sam fall in love, but COMPETITIVELY, oral sex, anal sex, tender railing, idiots in love, praise kink

Words: 12,598

Link to AO3: here

Summary:

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

Bucky Barnes is pretty sure that these counseling sessions—supposedly for Bucky and Sam’s “interpersonal issues”—are Director Fury’s revenge for that whole fake assassination situation. Which, to be fair to Fury, came about as the result of Bucky’s very real assassination attempt, even if the subsequent “assassination” was fake, so Bucky can’t exactly blame Fury there. What Bucky doesn’t understand is why their possibly-fake counselor—is she a real counselor, or just another one of Fury’s spies?—chooses to conduct her “therapy” sessions in the unlikely and frankly suspicious location of an underground bunker.

Dr. Carson’s therapy bunker is probably just a temporary location, since usable office facilities with running water and electricity are still pretty limited after the Blip, but Bucky was definitely under the impression that modern American therapists’ offices were supposed to be more soothing than this. He’d expected a bland but tasteful space filled with a cushy sofa and watercolor paintings and the calming sounds of nature recordings. Instead, Bucky and Sam are sitting in uncomfortable chairs in a dim room with bare cement walls and unflattering fluorescent lighting. Is Fury even trying to sell this fake counseling op?

Bucky and Sam’s counselor/interrogator is most definitely hostile. Although Dr. Carson looks lovely in her delicate green silk blouse and expensive silk scarf, her expression is stern and sour. She’s styled her glossy dark hair neatly, in gentle waves that summon a distant memory of the way women used to wear their hair in the 1940s, and Bucky wonders if this is Dr. Carson’s authentic style or if it’s just part of another SHIELD spy game, meant to trick or manipulate Bucky into confiding in Dr. Carson because she looks familiar and nonthreatening.

Bucky considers it an insult to the memory of Peggy Carter if Fury thinks he could’ve worked with Carter for two years in the SSR and still underestimate a woman just because she has nice hair and a pretty outfit.

Also, if Dr. Carson’s trying to lull Bucky into a false sense of security, why is she doing it in this weird basement?

Honestly this whole counseling thing really does seem like it’s secretly just a poorly planned interrogation.

Like right now. Dr. Carson asks, “Are you having a staring contest?” and Bucky isn’t going to disclose valuable intel by admitting that while Sam is definitely having a staring contest with him, Bucky is just using this as an excuse to look into Sam’s eyes, which are warm and brown and make Bucky feel all sorts of confusing things. Bucky is trained to resist interrogation, and that piece of information definitely falls under the category of “unexpected and alarming potential weaknesses.”

Also Bucky’s still sort of figuring out how he feels about Sam’s whole eye and face and shoulder situation, so the staring contest is actually a pretty great cover for whatever the fuck is really going on with him. Half of successfully surviving an interrogation is letting your captors fill in the blanks themselves and then pretending like their waterboarding is the worst thing you’ve ever endured.

Unfortunately, while Bucky is congratulating himself on successfully maintaining operations security—and winning their staring contest, no reason he can’t do both at once—Dr. Carson seems to reach her limit for the amount of shit she’s willing to endure from them today.

“You’re not taking this seriously.” Dr. Carson shoots them with a hard glare. “I’m giving you a five minute break, and if you’re not ready to open up and work on your communication and compatibility issues, I’m going to have to advise Fury to put you both on leave.”

Bucky’s fine with being put on leave, and he’s fully prepared to wait out SHIELD, Fury, and Dr. Carson. It took HYDRA fifteen years to break him down enough to send him out on missions, and no matter how much they tortured him Bucky didn’t shed so much as a single tear until they showed him newspaper headlines about what a bad pilot Steve turned out to be.

Also, Bucky’s not entirely sure that he’s not actually immortal, so he figures his patience will probably far outlast Fury’s determination to punish him for shooting him a few times when he didn’t even die. Actually, now that Bucky thinks about it, Fury’s probably less mad about the whole fake assassination thing than he is about Steve forcing him to offer Bucky a job and then grit out the most begrudging apology Bucky has ever heard in his life for SHIELDRA holding Bucky hostage as a brainwashed assassin while Fury was the Director of SHIELD. Right in front of Captain Marvel, too, Fury’s favorite Avenger, who had looked very disappointed in him. Apparently Danvers had her own history as a superpowered amnesiac brainwashed into working for the bad guys? Bucky’s unclear on the details, but when Danvers’s mouth tightened and her head shook in dismay, Nick Fury’s shoulders had slumped like a chastened schoolboy.

God, Steve is such a dick sometimes. Bucky loves him so much.

Dr. Carson’s high heels make clipped little clicking noises that speak volumes about her frustration with them as she strides purposefully out of the room. As soon as she closes the door, so firmly that Bucky can just tell that she had to have put conscious, controlled effort into not slamming it behind her, Bucky turns to Sam with a satisfied grin.

“Well, I think we’re doing great,” Bucky says. “SHIELD’s going to have to work a lot harder to get any real intel out of us, and I was definitely promised that they wouldn’t be using any drugs or brainwashing techniques this time so I think we’re going to nail this whole interrogation.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “This is therapy, man, not an interrogation. We’re supposed to be, like, opening up and becoming a better team.”

“Yeah, well, if this is real therapy then where are the goats?” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow toward the most likely location of the nearest camera as if to say gotcha, Fury, your goatless fake therapy interrogation tactic isn’t fooling me.

“I’m sorry, goats? Why would there be goats?”

Bucky leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. “I’m just saying, in Wakanda I always got to hang out with animals when I did therapy. And look how great that turned out! I hardly ever kill anyone anymore, and when I do it’s on purpose because I decided to. Anyway, I really feel like this is all just a plot by SHIELD to find out why we—”

Bucky and Sam bicker for a while about whether or not this is real therapy until they’re interrupted by Dr. Carson’s return, her face looking a little damp now, like maybe she spent her time away from them splashing water on it and doing some deep breathing exercises in the bathroom.

“OK,” says Dr. Carson, visibly relaxing her spine. “We’re going to take a new approach. Have you heard of the five love languages?”

Sam’s eyes widen in horror. “No, we are not doing the five love languages.”

Bucky hasn’t heard of the five love languages, but he can tell from the look on Sam’s face that they definitely don’t want to do this, and Bucky’s pretty good at improvising when he needs to. “Oh, you know, I think HYDRA already implanted the five love languages in my brain when they were doing the rest of the Romance languages. So we can just skip those, I already know them.”

Bucky offers Dr. Carson his blandest and most innocent smile, the same one that sometimes worked on Sister Mary Angela back at old St. Charles Borromeo, but Dr. Carson’s face remains as stony and unmoved as the church itself, still standing in Brooklyn Heights in the year of our Lord 2023. Instead she says, “I think we need to take a couples therapy approach.”

“Couples therapy,” Sam repeats, sinking lower in his chair. Bucky winces as Sam’s knee starts to crush his balls.

“According to this file,” Dr. Carson says, opening it up to read aloud, “the two of you are here because your colleagues have complained about your, quote, romantically-charged bickering, your constant flirting, and your unnecessarily sexual sparring.”

Dr. Carson punctuates these damning statements with some truly savage air quotes.

“Listen, when I slap Sam’s bare ass in the locker room after a good sparring session it’s with purely collegial respect for a worthy opponent,” Bucky says, folding his arms across his chest. “I only ever treat Sam with the same level of professional respect I give Steve and Natasha.”

Sam nods in support. “Steve and Natasha never have a problem getting sweaty and physical with us, and I’ve personally witnessed Steve and Natasha slap Bucky’s ass dozens of times.”

Dr. Carson raises a single judgmental eyebrow. “Don’t you think there might be a reason why Fury’s banned the four of you from using the gym at the same time?”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “The other SHIELD agents get intimidated by Sam’s shredded abs and Steve’s and my super strength. Plus everyone’s scared of Natasha.”

Dr. Carson closes her eyes and visibly counts to ten. Bucky can see her mouth forming the words.

“All right, we’re just going to move on here, because I’m really only able to deal with just the one dysfunctional relationship at a time.” Dr. Carson passes them some worksheets and pencils. “I want you to fill these out, honestly, and then hand them back to me when you’re done.”

Bucky reads over the worksheets, which are filled with questions like, “Do you like it more when your partner reacts positively to something you’ve accomplished or when they do something for you that you know they don’t particularly enjoy?” There are a lot of questions about hugging, and holding hands, and Bucky gets distracted trying to picture holding hands with Sam, who has big hands, strong and capable and—

“Stop trying to copy my answers,” Sam says, when he notices Bucky glancing over at the way Sam grips his pen as he fills out his worksheet. Sam shoves his knee harder into Bucky’s crotch and Bucky stifles a gasp.

“I’m not!”

“Bucky, stop cheating.” Dr. Carson presses her lips together in a severe frown.

Bucky scowls and scooches his chair back several inches. It makes a loud scraping sound as it drags against the cement floor. But before going back to filling out his form, Bucky gives Sam’s ankle a sharp kick for getting him in trouble with Dr. Carson, and the two of them engage in a brief but brutal silent kicking war below the front of the desk where Dr. Carson can’t see.

When Bucky and Sam finish their kicking war and their quizzes, they hand their worksheets back to Dr. Carson for grading and rub their shins as they wait.

“Bucky, your primary love language is words of affirmation, and your secondary love language is physical touch,” Dr. Carson announces. “And Sam, your primary love language is acts of service, while your secondary love language is quality time.”

Bucky frowns. On the one hand, he feels like he’s received some pretty valuable intel about Sam that he could use to his benefit. But on the other hand, he’s probably given up some valuable intel of his own. He wishes there hadn’t been so many questions that made him think about hugging and touching Sam—somehow those made him so distracted that he forgot to respond with lies.

Bucky’s stomach knots up a bit at the thought of Sam learning his potential weaknesses, but really, how much of a psyop could Sam possibly launch with the results from a couples counseling questionnaire? (Natasha could probably execute a successful psyop based on the information from a Buzzfeed quiz meant to reveal your “celebrity mom,” so Bucky really hopes Sam doesn’t talk to Natasha about this.)

“Your homework is to try to learn to speak each other’s language.” Dr. Carson stands up and walks around the desk to touch Bucky’s shoulder. “Good job today, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles, and the knot in his stomach releases a bit. He is so nailing this therapy thing, he knew he’d be better at it than Sam.

Dr. Carson helps Sam back into his coat as she ushers them toward the door, and Bucky’s pretty sure she’s meant to be modeling an act of service except that mostly it seems like she’s just trying to rush them out of the office.

“See you next week.” Dr. Carson smiles stiffly, like she is not at all looking forward to seeing them next week. Her expression is full of determined professionalism right up until the click of the door latch, and then Bucky hears a dull thudding noise that is pretty unmistakably the sound of Dr. Carson hitting her head against the doorframe.

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

***

They’re on a mission together the next day, battling some Doombots in New Jersey, and wow is Sam committed to this whole words of affirmation thing.

When Bucky deflects a punch aimed straight for Sam’s head with his vibranium arm, Sam whistles and says, “Nice save, man, you’re killing it today.” Warmth rises up in Bucky’s chest at Sam’s praise, and Bucky is filled with panic and dismay when he realizes that the fight to squash it back down is honestly more taxing than their battle against Doombots. There’s absolutely no reason Bucky should be having such a physical reaction to basic battle camaraderie.

When Bucky stretches his leg up above his head to nail one of the bots with a vicious kick, Sam smirks and gives him a distinct how-you-doing sort of nod. “That was—seriously hot, man. Have you been doing yoga or something?”

So apparently Sam is choosing to interpret words of affirmation as “wild flirtation,” and Bucky’s cheeks are choosing to betray him by radiating at Sam’s attention. Bucky knows there’s a flush spreading down his neck, and he’s hoping Sam will attribute it to exertion from the fight, because there’s no way Bucky can let Sam know that Sam’s sort of winning at their therapy homework—not when Bucky’s entire mental health journey and, like, the honor of the Wakandan animal-assisted therapy program is at stake.

But after they board the Quinjet and set the autopilot on a course back to New York, Sam gives Bucky a slow up-and-down perusal with his eyes, and Bucky feels Sam’s gaze like a physical touch. “You look really good after a fight, Buck. That messed up hair and pretty pink blush are giving me all kinds of ideas.”

Bucky’s cock twitches at that, and huh. Bucky blinks and looks down at his crotch.

So that’s working again.

A dirty smirk spreads across Sam’s face, like maybe Sam knows exactly what just happened inside Bucky’s pants, and fuck, this whole situation is spiraling rapidly out of Bucky’s control. Like, yeah, Bucky kept Sam from getting a pretty gnarly concussion, and that was probably an act of service, right? But it’s pretty clear, to both of them, that Sam is winning this competition, and Bucky is not about to go down without a fight.

Which is—an idea.

Bucky drops to his knees in front of Sam and bites his lip in a way that he knows, instinctively, will make him look hot. Sam inhales sharply in response, and Bucky reaches up to grasp Sam by the hips before he can take a step backwards. The material of Sam’s uniform bunches up and shifts under Bucky’s hands, and fuck, Bucky’s cock is aching now, throbbing and filling up in his tight uniform pants. Bucky forgot he could feel so good.

“What are you doing,” Sam protests in a half-assed sort of way.

“Servicing you,” Bucky replies with a wicked grin, sliding Sam’s zipper down slowly over his thickening cock. Bucky can’t remember if he’s done this before, but the way his mouth waters and his throat aches in anticipation makes him feel pretty fucking confident about how this is going to go down.

But before Bucky can pull Sam’s cock out of his briefs, Sam slides his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tips his head gently backward, using his other hand to tilt Bucky’s chin up to look into Sam’s face. Sam’s pretty brown eyes are already darkening with arousal, but his expression is serious.

“You don’t have to suck my dick for therapy, man.”

Bucky huffs. “Sam, this is the first time my dick’s been hard since 1945. Do you know how many times Steve’s let me watch him jerk off trying to heIp me get hard again? I am definitely not doing this only to win at therapy, pal.”

Sam’s hands freeze in Bucky’s hair and his cock swells visibly in his briefs. “I’m sorry, Steve let you do what now? Dude, I thought Steve was straight.”

“Oh, he’s definitely, like, straight-ish,” Bucky assures Sam, with a little so-so wave of his hand that hopefully conveys the correct amount of ambiguity there. “He’s mostly just a really great friend.”

Sam’s eyes close for a long moment, and then Bucky’s scalp stings when Sam clenches his fist in Bucky’s hair and pulls. “Jesus,” mutters Sam, his voice gruff and husky. “Yeah, OK, baby. Go ahead and suck my dick.”

Bucky’s heart pounds as he pulls Sam’s cock out of his briefs and licks a wet stripe up the length of it, groaning at the feel of Sam’s skin under his tongue. Sam tastes salty with sweat, and his scent is musky and thick after their fight with the Doombots. Bucky teases him for a while, the way he’s seen people do in porn, trailing wet kisses along the shaft and mouthing at the head, and Sam lets out a ragged moan when Bucky’s mouth finally engulfs him. Bucky’s feeling pretty cocky about this, loves the rush of power he feels as Sam’s hips twitch and jerk to keep from thrusting into Bucky’s mouth—but then Sam fucking escalates shit, because Sam is an asshole.

“Christ, you feel good,” Sam murmurs, reaching down to rub his thumb against Bucky’s mouth, stretched wide around Sam’s cock. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And then Bucky’s the one moaning, eyelids fluttering shut and heat coursing down his spine at the sound of Sam’s husky voice. Bucky should have expected Sam to counter his act of service with more words of affirmation, but somehow he wasn’t prepared for the unbearable ache he’d feel at Sam’s dirty talk. Bucky feels inexperienced, outclassed at this sort of sexual warfare, and the only way he can retaliate is by sinking as far down on Sam’s cock as his throat will allow him. He reaches up to grab Sam’s hips, urging him to fuck his mouth, and then he hums a little inside his head to try to tune out the sound of Sam’s praise.

“Fuck,” says Sam. “God, that’s it, baby. You take it so well, Buck. So fucking good for me.”

Bucky whines, his jaw aching, eyes filling with tears as Sam’s cock stretches his mouth open. Sam keeps offering him filthy praise as he slides his mouth up and down Sam’s thick cock, and Bucky doesn’t know why this is doing it for him when all of Steve’s pale skin and strong thighs and big dick couldn’t, but maybe seventy years of torture and captivity have left Bucky with a few new kinks. Or maybe Bucky’s just healing or whatever. Bucky honestly doesn’t care, as long as Sam keeps letting him fill his throat with Sam’s dick.

Sam’s voice is rough when he says, “God, you fucking love it, don’t you,” and Bucky pulls off Sam’s cock just long enough to nod eagerly and gasp for air before diving back in. “Take your dick out, baby. I want you to come sucking my cock.”

Bucky’s rhythm stutters at that, his hand reaching down to pull his cock out of his uniform pants. He wants to be so fucking good for Sam, wants to come just how Sam says, wants Sam to keep telling him how good he looks, how much he loves fucking Bucky’s mouth, how much he likes giving it to him.

Sam’s praise grows hotter and filthier as he gets closer, and Bucky whimpers as he feels his own orgasm approaching. God, he hasn’t come in so long, hasn’t felt that hot rush and that familiar ache in his balls in forever and he wants it, wants to come, he just needs—

“Come on, baby, come for me, I know you can do it, just keep sucking my cock, God, you look so good, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop—”

And Bucky spirals over the edge, cock pulsing and spilling over his fist. He lets out a choked moan around Sam’s dick before his mouth is flooded with bitter, salty fluid. And then Bucky feels so fucking full, like he could drown happily in Sam’s smell and his taste and his fucking words of affirmation.

Fuck.

Bucky definitely did not win that round.

***

The whole blow job thing was an outstanding idea, really, one of Bucky’s best. But fuck, he did not anticipate Sam using that as an opportunity to completely turn the tables and affirm the shit out of him. Bucky can’t help but privately acknowledge to himself that Sam is completely winning at love languages so far.

They’re in counseling the next week, still in Dr. Carson’s depressing therapy bunker, and honestly, Bucky can’t imagine that this setting is good for, like, anybody’s mental health. His therapy in Wakanda always took place outdoors, under the warm African sun, surrounded by the wild, earthy smells of mud and animals and Lake Turkana. It made him feel open and free and connected to nature or whatever. It was peaceful.

Therapy at SHIELD is not very peaceful, especially because Dr. Carson clearly hates them, and she isn’t at all impressed by what Bucky considers some very impressive progress by them. Bucky and Sam are getting along.

“So,” Dr. Carson begins, apparently deciding to just start right off with more hurtful accusations from their colleagues, “according to Carl from the gun range, the two of you have been subjecting your coworkers to your, quote, uncomfortable bickering-slash-foreplay, and Maria Hill reports that you’re still, quote, cluttering up comms during missions with the most embarrassing flirting I have ever heard, I hate it so much.”

Dr. Carson’s air quotes are fucking vicious.

Despite the fact that they’ve only just started their session, Dr. Carson looks tense and aggravated already. She’s wearing another pretty silk blouse today, but her earrings don’t seem to match and it looks like she didn’t bother to curl her hair today. Maybe she just realized that Bucky wasn’t fooled by those forties waves?

Also, even though it’s Friday, Dr. Carson’s giving off a very Monday sort of vibe.

“Sam and I are working on it, OK?” Bucky says, with a mulish set to his jaw. “Obviously I’m doing my best here, but it’s hard to do therapy in a cement basement that gives me flashbacks to 1970s HYDRA facilities where I was tortured. And there aren’t even any pets at all to comfort me. Didn’t you receive the note from my Wakandan therapist stating that I require animals during therapy?”

A blood vessel in Dr. Carson’s forehead throbs, and she raises her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’ll see if I can get us a room upstairs for our next session, but I’m telling you for the last time that we don’t have any therapy goats.”

“Well, I don’t have any issues doing therapy without goats,” Sam says, like the worst sort of teacher’s pet. God, Sam’s teachers probably loved his charming smile and his quick wit and his stupid handsome face. “Maybe Bucky is using the goats as an emotional crutch.”

“Listen, goat therapy works, OK?” Bucky counts out on his fingers as he lists the many examples of real progress he’s made since his time as a goat farmer in Wakanda. “I started off as an amnesiac brainwashed assassin, and now I have a steady job, a haircut, an apartment leased under my own shell companies, and I only kill people when I want to kill people now. And I wash my hair regularly. And if I don’t wash my hair, I use dry shampoo. And I don’t turn into a mindless killing machine when people speak Russian at me.”

“Dude,” Sam says.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you’re not as good at therapy as me.”

“Not as—not as good at therapy as you? Man, I am a certified peer specialist. I was so good at my own therapy that they let me give other people therapy,” Sam says, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Yeah, in America, where they’re not even familiar with things like advanced goat therapy.” Bucky clucks his tongue and shakes his head. “Did you even keep up with your continuing education requirements while you were fugitives with Steve?”

Sam sinks lower in his seat and frowns. “No. But speaking of Steve,” Sam says, perking up a bit as he follows a new thread of argument. “Whose PTSD recovery was so complete and inspirational that Steve Rogers trusted them with the responsibility of carrying the Captain America shield, hm?”

“Listen, Steve is reckless as shit and he’s so irresponsible with that shield that he’s constantly losing it in rivers and getting it broken by alien supervillains,” Bucky points out. “I’m so recovered that the king of an entire country, a man so responsible that they put him in charge of running literally everything in the most advanced nation on the planet, trusted me with a prosthetic arm powerful enough to crush the skull of an ordinary man with a single blow. Probably even his skull, and he’s been enhanced by some weird plant that makes him even stronger than Steve.”

“Yeah, well, I’m so recovered that—”

Dr. Carson interrupts them here, pinching the bridge of her nose. “OK, listen, I think there’s actually something pretty interesting here in how you each relate your recovery to your ability to wield weapons. Why don’t we stop bickering and discuss that a little further?”

“Yeah, OK,” Bucky mumbles.

Sam sighs heavily. “Fine.”

***

So the blow job thing is working perfectly—like, so perfectly, God, Sam’s dick is amazing—except for the fact that Sam is able to talk the entire time. Words of affirmation spill from Sam’s pretty lips every time Bucky swallows his cock, and Bucky is still fucking losing the love languages competition.

It’s time to create a Pinterest strategy board to figure this thing out.

Bucky is a visual planner, and he believes in tactical flexibility. He might not remember a lot about sex, but there’s tons of porn on the Internet. He just needs to find a couple of ways to service Sam while Sam’s mouth is otherwise occupied. How hard could that be?

After a lot of research and the creation of several Pinterest mood boards, Bucky calls Steve down the hall to his apartment to help him out. They all live in the same building since it has the best security in the city—and Bucky and Natasha are very particular about security—and it makes sense for the four of them to basically live together when they already spend all their time together. When Steve arrives, they head right to Bucky’s bedroom, get undressed, and survey the porn board on Bucky’s laptop.

“OK, so what about sixty-nine,” Steve suggests. “Let’s try that.”

They get themselves into position, mouths hovering over each other’s flaccid dicks like totally normal best friends.

“See, I feel like this works, but is it really servicing Sam if he’s, like, servicing me at the same time?” Bucky flops over onto his back in frustration and worries at his lower lip with his teeth.

Steve nods and tilts his head in thought. “Yeah, I see what you mean. Depending on the grading rubric, the two acts might cancel each other out. How about rimming?”

“I feel like rimming is a great idea, and I definitely want to do that, but how do I shut him up while I do it?”

Steve frowns. “Can you reach up and cover his mouth with your hand? Hold on, let me bend over and we’ll see.” Steve gets on his hands and knees, tilting his ass up for Bucky to simulate a rim job.

“You know, your ass really is kind of amazing.” Bucky takes a moment to admire the jewel of Howard Stark’s empire. “I mean, it was cute as hell when you were little too, but Scott Lang definitely wasn’t wrong in that podcast episode about which superhero has America’s ass. Don’t tell Sam I said that, by the way.”

“Thanks, pal,” Steve says, flashing Bucky a quick grin. “Your ass is great too, Sam’s a lucky guy. Now bend over and pretend to rim me.”

Bucky leans down and uses his hand to cover Steve’s exposed hole, then presses his mouth against the back of his hand to simulate a rim job. He reaches forward with his other arm to see if he can put his vibranium hand over Steve’s mouth. He could—maybe? If he releases the catch on his shoulder?

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Bucky says with a frown. “Here, maybe try getting on your back and holding onto your legs?”

“Like this?” Steve asks, shifting gamely into position. Bucky folds him over and pretends to rim him while covering Steve’s mouth, which—works, actually. And this is probably the most erotic scene Bucky’s ever been a part of—Steve really does look incredible like this—so it’s kind of a shame that it does absolutely nothing whatsoever for Bucky’s dick.

Except then Bucky pictures Sam in Steve’s position, bent over and whining under Bucky’s vibranium hand, and Bucky’s cock gives a little twitch. Fuck.

Bucky sighs and releases Steve with a short nod. “Not bad, pal. I think this one’s gonna work. Let’s write it down.”

They test out a few more positions, taking careful notes on the comfort and degree of mouth coverage of each one. Bucky finds a few more pictures to add to his Pinterest board, and they sort through every image and assign them to the correct position number. Then Bucky and Steve print off their pictures and tape them to Bucky’s wall for inspiration, mapping out a sequence of actions that will lead to orgasms for both Sam and Bucky with a minimum amount of talking on Sam’s part.

Which is a shame, really. Sam’s dirty talk really does it for Bucky.

Still nude, Bucky and Steve stand in front of the vision board and assess the plan.

“I think position two is really going to work,” Steve says, stroking his chin, and Bucky’s brain flashes back to an image of Steve in pretty much this exact pose, assessing a map of HYDRA facilities in Western Europe with no less gravity and passion. God, Steve Rogers is a great fucking friend. “And if you really want to service the guy, I mean, you’ve already got him all loose and open. You might as well give him your dick too, right?”

Bucky nods in agreement. “Yeah, I mean, as long as I keep kissing him, he won’t be able to affirm me too much. I think this really is the winning scenario.”

“Great teamwork, pal,” Steve says, slapping Bucky’s bare ass. “This was fun! Just like the old days.”

Bucky smiles wistfully. “Yeah, there’s nothing like planning an op with The Man With the Plan. Hey, you want to grab dinner after this?”

“Nah,” Steve says, too-casually, angling his pelvis away from Bucky as he pulls his pants back on. “I think I’m gonna go see if Natasha’s busy.”

Bucky grins. “Give her my best.”

“Will do. Love you, pal,” Steve says, giving Bucky a quick kiss before he leaves.

Steve doesn’t bother putting a shirt on before he goes, and Bucky can hear him whistling cheerfully all the way down to Nat’s apartment.

***

Steve and Bucky’s plan was great, so naturally it goes to shit as soon as Sam gets involved.

Bucky’s sucking Sam’s dick, which OK, yeah, wasn’t technically in the plan, but God, Sam’s got such a great dick. How far behind can Bucky really fall in the standings from just one blow job?

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Sam says, sliding his long fingers through Bucky’s hair—which Bucky washed before he came over, because he is killing it as a recovered assassin and also because this afternoon Sam grabbed his hips and leaned in, breath hot against Bucky’s ear, and murmured how much he wants to smell Bucky’s shampoo on his pillows tomorrow morning.

Which was both smooth as hell and very convincing. Bucky immediately bought like three more bottles of that shit and accepted Sam’s invitation over to his apartment that night.

So now they’re in Sam’s apartment, and Bucky’s sliding his mouth along Sam’s cock, and Sam’s telling him how much he loves the way Bucky sucks him, loves the way Bucky’s pretty face looks with Sam’s cock in his mouth, lips slick with spit and tears leaking out of his eyes. And then Sam says—

“Are you gonna let me fuck you tonight, baby? Gonna let me see how well you take it?”

And before Bucky knows it, he’s moaning around Sam’s cock and nodding his head, and Sam’s pulling a condom and lube out of the side drawer, and then Bucky’s face down on Sam’s bed, gasping and clenching around Sam’s long fingers.

When Sam finally turns him over and pushes inside him, Bucky feels his brain just—fully vacate his skull. Pleasure buzzes up and down Bucky’s spine like an electric current, and he’s only barely conscious of the wet-sounding gasp that comes out of his mouth when Sam finally slides all the way home.

Sam gives it to him slow and sweet, fucking into him at a dreamy, leisurely pace as Bucky grabs fistfuls of Sam’s sheets and scrabbles at any leverage he can get to try and push back against Sam’s cock. Bucky wants Sam to grab his hips and pound him hard, overwhelm him with stimulation and keep him from sinking under the gentle wave of that languid rhythm. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable, and Bucky’s chest is cracking wide open for Sam to look inside. He’s a little afraid of what Sam might see within him, but instead Sam’s expression is full of awe, his face open and tender as he runs a thumb over Bucky’s cheekbone.

“God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, so fucking sweet for me.”

There’s a lot of eye contact after that, and romantic face touching, and Sam telling Bucky how much he loves the way he feels, loves the way he looks and smells and tastes. Warmth pools deep in Bucky’s gut, spreading through his veins like the burn of whiskey, until Bucky feels like he’s going to burst into flames around Sam’s cock. Instead he comes, long and hard and messy, all over his stomach.

Sam’s eyes are hot as he looks down at the sight of Bucky’s abs covered in pearly fluid, and then he slams his hips into Bucky three more times, hard, before groaning and collapsing on top of him.

Fuck, Bucky thinks.

He takes a few minutes to catch his breath, and then suppresses a half-hearted sigh when he realizes that he completely blew the plan. Like, yes, that was some fucking amazing sex, Sam gave him the dicking of a lifetime, but somehow Bucky ended up even further behind in the love language competition. How does Sam keep winning?

It’s too late now to offer another act of service. Even if Bucky could get it up again, Sam definitely couldn’t.

Shit.

But wait, what was Sam’s secondary love language? Quality time? Perfect.

Bucky rolls over to give Sam a few open-mouthed kisses on his shoulder. Sam is sweaty from exertion, and he tastes salty and amazing. God, Sam is the best.

“You mind if I stay the night, sweetheart?” Bucky murmurs.

Sam’s lips curve up in a soft and pleased smile. “Yeah, baby, I was hoping you would.”

“C’mere, you can be the little spoon,” Bucky says, reaching around Sam’s waist to reel him in, and Sam huffs out a surprised grunt and then a happy sigh when Bucky wraps his arms and leg around him.

They fall asleep within minutes, and it turns out Sam really was into the smell of Bucky on his pillows because they fuck again in the morning, and this time Bucky forgets to keep track of who’s winning at therapy homework.

***

They fuck constantly after that, which is amazing, but unfortunately Bucky is still staying in this game only by the skin of his teeth. Like, yes, Bucky is performing acts of service for Sam on the regular, but somehow Bucky finds his self-control dissolving like sugar melting into caramel when Sam spreads him out under his dirty mouth and his clever hands.

So now when Sam collapses on top of him at night, fucked out and shaking, Bucky nuzzles his face into the back of Sam’s neck and wraps his arm around him to pull him close. Bucky stays the night, every night, and at work he sticks to Sam more tightly than one of Steve Rogers’s t-shirts. But the more quality time Bucky offers Sam, the more acts of service Bucky ends up performing—which, sure, sounds like a plan that would put Bucky pretty solidly in the lead, except for how Bucky always ends up a sobbing, needy mess dripping onto Sam’s sheets while Sam smirks and tells him how good Bucky is for him.

They fight together even better now, in sync in a way that Bucky hasn’t felt since he worked with the Howling Commandos, and when they finish a skirmish they turn to each other, flushed and grinning, flying high on adrenaline and oxytocin and arousal. They kiss savagely, mouths wet and open, and they don’t care who hears them pant and groan over the comms.

“God, you were so fucking hot—”

“Sam, yes, god, please—”

Bucky and Sam have died and come back to life already this year and somehow they’re still bringing each other back to life. Bucky swaggers through SHIELD headquarters with champagne flowing through his veins, bright and bubbly, and Fury yells at them twice for passing dirty notes to each other during briefings. They’re obnoxious about it, obvious and messy and shameless, and Bucky’s pretty sure that Maria Hill is going to resign in protest if she has to work surveillance for even one more of their ops.

Somehow they’re generating even more complaints to HR than before.

***

Dr. Carson has finally managed to find them a room with a window for their counseling sessions. They’re on the fifth floor, and there’s not much of a view—just the brick wall of the building next to them—but sunlight streams in through the sheer curtains and highlights the cut ridges of Sam’s frankly incredible cheekbones. God, Sam’s so fucking handsome.

Bucky and Sam are grinning broadly, but Dr. Carson looks stressed out and irritated today, even though they just started the appointment. Her hair is stringy and a little greasy at the roots, and Bucky wonders if Dr. Carson knows about dry shampoo. He isn’t sure how to ask, or if it would be rude to offer her a few sprays from the travel bottle he keeps in one of the pockets of his tactical pants? She’s still wearing a nice silk blouse, but it looks like she’s buttoned it incorrectly, and the tail is hanging out of the top of her slacks.

Are those even slacks? They kind of look like yoga pants.

Privately, Bucky thinks that an outsider might be hard pressed to figure out which of them was supposed to be the mental patient here. Are Bucky and Sam actually driving this woman insane?

“So you’re sleeping together.” Dr. Carson’s tone is flat and dismayed. “You know this is against SHIELD employee regulations, don’t you?”

She taps her pen against their folders in agitation, and Bucky wonders if those folders are their actual permanent records. Does Bucky’s folder still have all of the notes from Sister Mary Angela about his “distracting” and “unnaturally close” relationship with Steve? God, Sister Mary Angela hated Steve.

Sam waves a careless hand and props his ankle up on his other knee. “We’re independent contractors, and Steve and Natasha made sure that our contracts didn’t include any kind of anti-fraternization policies. They were extremely thorough about it.”

Dr. Carson sighs heavily, and it looks like she’s doing literally everything in her power not to roll her eyes. Instead, she tips her head back and looks at the ceiling, probably hoping to roll her eyes where Bucky and Sam can’t see them. “Nevertheless, the two of you are still required to be discreet and professional when you’re at work. We’ve received complaints from several of your coworkers about your behavior in the last week. According to Carl, you’ve been bringing, quote, unwanted and uncomfortable sexual energy to the workplace.”

Bucky scoffs. He knows how to handle this sort of situation. “Listen, I didn’t lose my life fighting Nazis so that a little homoerotic banter and ass grabbing would get me in trouble at work. And anyway, this is how Captain America and I behaved at work back when we were fighting fascism and defending the free world—in the 1940s, even!—so I can’t imagine that somehow you’re just not allowed to give each other friendly hand jobs in closets in 2023. If anything, I should be able to give Sam a friendly hand job outside of a closet. Those are exactly the kinds of freedoms I fought and died for.”

Sam nods in support and says, “That’s a great point, Buck,” and Bucky feels warmth curling in his belly before he realizes, fuck, Sam’s doing it again, and right in front of Dr. Carson too. Jesus, Sam is so good at therapy. “And it sounds like Carl might be just a tad bit homophobic. Maybe we should be complaining to HR about him. You know, I didn’t serve during the long years of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell just to hear—”

“Carl is happily married to his male partner of thirty-seven years,” Dr. Carson states, clenching her jaw. Bucky has literally fought people to the death who look less bothered by his general existence. “Also, you didn’t actually die fighting Nazis, Agent Barnes.”

“It was a metaphorical death,” Bucky defends, because this is important to him. “The old Bucky Barnes died in that ravine. We went over it all in my therapy in Wakanda, the most scientifically advanced country in the world. What even are your credentials and where are your goats?”

“I have a Bachelor’s degree in psychology from Harvard and doctorates in clinical psychology and neuroscience from Oxford. I was a Rhodes scholar, I’ve received a MacArthur Fellowship for my work in PTSD and polytrauma in returning veterans, and I literally wrote the textbook for most Introduction to Psychology courses.”

Bucky waves his dismissive hand at this. “Yeah, well, Sam did eighty hours of coursework and an eighty hour practicum to become a certified peer counselor. Plus he has experiential knowledge, which is more important than book learning. Also, Sam isn’t HYDRA. Are you HYDRA?”

The wood in Dr. Carson’s pencil cracks a bit under her hand. “I’m not HYDRA.”

“But, like, would Nick Fury know if you were HYDRA?” Bucky presses.

“That’s an excellent point, baby, you’re killing it in therapy today.” Sam pats Bucky on the thigh and then leaves his hand there, bare inches away from Bucky’s cock, and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek to keep from moving his hips or making any noises. “Nick Fury would definitely not know if Dr. Carson were HYDRA, his Nazi-finding track record is, like, dismal at best. I vote that we suspend therapy until there’s been an independent investigation into whether or not Dr. Carson is HYDRA.”

“You can’t suspend therapy,” Dr. Carson says, her expression pinched. “These counseling sessions are mandatory.”

“Look, we’ll keep doing the love languages thing as a show of good faith, and once the investigation’s concluded we’ll come back so you can decide which one of us is winning at therapy,” Bucky says. “In the meantime just, like, prepare to have all of your secrets uncovered and all of your loved ones and ex-boyfriends questioned extensively about your most private and intimate memories.”

Dr. Carson covers her face with her hands. Is she trying to muffle a scream?

“For the last time, no one wins at therapy,” she grits out.

“I mean, I think I’m pretty obviously winning,” Sam says. Bucky tips his head in reluctant agreement. “Anyway, we’ll talk to Natasha and Steve about the HYDRA thing since they actually know how to find Nazis. If Steve and Nat clear you, then Bucky and I will agree to let you judge which one of us is winning the love languages competition. In the meantime, it would be nice if you could get some therapy pets for Bucky. He likes animals. Goats might be a bit unreasonable for downtown D.C., but I’m sure you could rustle up some cats or something, right?”

Bucky hums. “I like dogs better.’

“All right, cool. Dr. C, get us some dogs.” Sam raps two knuckles against the desk. “Bucky and I are going to go to the gym to work out a bit. Bucky’s shoulders are looking really good lately.”

“Sam!” Bucky hisses, squirming a bit in his seat. “Not in front of Dr. Carson!”

“Sorry, baby,” Sam says, holding out a hand to pull Bucky up out of his chair. “See you next week, Dr. C!”

***

It hasn’t exactly escaped Bucky’s notice that Natasha has been avoiding him ever since Bucky and Sam started their love languages competition, so when Bucky sees Steve walking alone down the hallway toward his office, he reaches out from the broom closet where he’s hiding and yanks Steve inside.

“Is Natasha helping Sam win the love languages competition?” Bucky hisses.

There’s no real reason that they need to have this conversation in a broom closet instead of Steve’s office, but Bucky’s feeling nostalgic today, and Steve doesn’t seem at all bothered to suddenly find himself in a broom closet with Bucky.

“I mean, probably?” Steve says with a shrug. “It seems only fair, since I’m helping you. Also her dirty talk has really leveled up lately, and that’s probably not a coincidence. Why, what’s Sam doing?”

“He’s, like, constantly flirting with me. And the touching! God, Steve, I’m horny all the time now. And you wouldn’t believe the things he says to me in bed! Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on all the sex routines you and I’ve choreographed when Sam’s telling me how pretty I look with his cock in my mouth?”

“Natasha is definitely helping him then—she says that to me all the time when she’s using her strap on,” Steve says, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Are you sure you can’t keep it together enough to service him without getting distracted by his words of affirmation?”

“Yes,” Bucky says, his cheeks growing hot. “You have no idea, Steve, like Sam just gets so filthy. I know my brain’s been fried like an egg and I don’t actually remember a lot about sex, but I don’t think people talked like this in the ‘40s, right?”

“I mean, you and I shared a bedroom in an apartment with paper thin walls and then spent a few years in a warzone. There’s not much opportunity for dirty talk when you’re just doing your best to get off without waking anybody up,” Steve says. “But that does give me an idea. Sam’s secondary love language is quality time, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So date him! You may not have the sexual repertoire of someone who’s watched hundreds of hours of modern porn or even someone who remembers much about having sex before like three weeks ago, but you do know how to pull off a good old-fashioned wooing.”

Bucky’s forehead wrinkles. “Do I, though? Do I still know how to pull off a good old-fashioned wooing?”

“I believe in you, pal.” Steve claps him on the shoulder and then looks around the broom closet thoughtfully, taking in the dirty mop and the shelves of cleaning supplies and filthy rags. “You’re honestly not even doing a bad job of wooing me right now. Want to trade hand jobs for old time’s sake?”

Bucky shoots Steve a withering look. “I’m not wooing you right now, Steve, you’re just easy. Go find Natasha if you’re horny.”

Steve shrugs. “Eh, it was worth a shot.”

***

Two months later, once Steve and Natasha have completed Dr. Carson’s background check and confirmed that she isn’t HYDRA, Sam and Bucky return to therapy. Even though Dr. Carson hasn’t seen them in months, she looks pinched and irritated, and the deep wrinkles in her forehead and the sudden explosion of gray in her hair make her look as though she’s aged five years since she started giving them therapy.

Bucky frowns and squints in suspicion. “We haven’t gotten Blipped again, have we?”

“What?”

“You just look—” Bucky gestures toward her hair and the bags under her eyes.

Dr. Carson’s expression shifts from exhausted indifference to polite fury, and Bucky’s just about to apologize when Sam gestures toward the floor under the window and says, “Hey, look at that! It’s about time you got Bucky a therapy puppy, you know that his doctors in Wakanda strongly encouraged it.”

When Bucky follows the line of Sam’s arm, he sees the cutest puppy in the world sitting in a fuzzy little dog bed with pictures of bones on it. Bucky gasps in delight. “He’s so cute, Sam, look at his little face!”

The puppy’s face is perfect, with big brown eyes and a short little snout with a tiny black nose. When he wags his tail, his little butt wiggles and Bucky wants to die about it. He loves this puppy so much.

“I’m naming him Paddington after my favorite movie,” Bucky declares.

“I love it,” Sam says immediately, pulling out his phone. “Put him in your lap so I can get some pictures for Steve and Natasha. They’re going to be so jealous when they find out that we got to have a dog in our therapy.”

Sam and Bucky spend the next ten minutes playing with Paddington and taking photos of the two of them with their adorable new therapy dog while Dr. Carson rubs her forehead like she just fucking knew this puppy would be a distraction.

“I think we should get started,” Dr. Carson interrupts, glancing pointedly at her watch.

“Yes, perfect!” Bucky pulls a small notebook out of his back pocket. “OK, so let me catch you up on everything we’ve done to each other since our last meeting, and I especially want your input on the scoring system that Sam and I have developed—”

Bucky and Sam spend the next half hour recounting their every interaction over the past couple of months in explicit, pornographic detail while Dr. Carson repeatedly clenches and unclenches her fists. When they spend ten full minutes alone on the rim job Bucky gave Sam last Saturday, Dr. Carson’s eyes go distant and glassy like a shell shocked veteran of the Great War or something. Bucky has literally seen torture victims make less of an effort to dissociate from their surroundings than Dr. Carson right now.

Honestly, who would have expected a therapist with thirty years’ experience to be so faint of heart? It’s absolutely critical to Bucky and Sam’s scoring system to determine whether Sam let out a “choked moan” or a “strangled gasp” while Bucky ate him out, and Bucky doesn’t appreciate Dr. Carson’s frankly lackluster participation when they stage a reenactment of events to try and settle the matter. She doesn’t even seem very decisive when she finally renders her judgment, like maybe she just doesn’t care what kind of sound Sam made, even though it was the most erotic noise Bucky’s ever heard in a hundred years.

When Sam concludes his argument for why words of affirmation during sex should count for more points than praise at work, Dr. Carson sighs heavily, looks off into the distance for exactly ten seconds, and then states, “I think we should discuss how you two can erect boundaries between your work relationship and your sexual relationship.”

Sam raises a skeptical eyebrow at Dr. Carson’s audacity. “Do you really feel like you’re qualified to counsel us on that particular issue?”

Dr. Carson’s jaw clenches. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, after everything that went down between you and Dr. Fitzgerald back in Philadelphia, I hardly think—”

Dr. Carson’s face whitens like curdled milk. “How did you find out about that?”

“Remember Natasha’s background check? Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s a tad bit hypocritical of you to suggest that Bucky and I shouldn’t be fucking during work hours, I mean, Bucky isn’t even married—”

Dr. Carson bites her lip so ferociously that she draws blood. “Bucky may not be married, but he is technically your subordinate, and that means there’s an uneven power dynamic to consider here—”

Sam smirks like he’s fucking Benjamin Matlock and he knows he’s just one pointed question away from making the guilty party break down and confess right there on the witness stand. (Bucky makes a mental note to ask Sam later why he and Natasha always snicker when Bucky and Steve get together to play cribbage and watch Matlock on Sunday afternoons.) “You mean like the uneven power dynamic at play between you and that doctoral student whose dissertation committee you chaired at UPenn?”

Dr. Carson gasps, and her face turns as red and furious as Sister Mary Angela’s that time she caught Steve’s skinny arms nailing a copy of Martin Luther’s Ninety-five Theses to the heavy wooden door of St. Charles Borromeo.

Bucky’s mind wanders a bit at that memory. God, Steve Rogers really was such a bad influence—maybe Sister Mary Angela was right about their distracting and unnaturally close relationship. Because of course Bucky couldn’t leave that stubborn asshole to face Sister Mary Angela’s wrath alone, so Bucky had ended up confessing to abusing his powers as editor of the student newspaper to let Steve use the school’s small printing press. Bucky emerged from the experience with an ass that burned for a week and a few uncomfortable new kinks.

Now, Bucky looks speculatively over at Sam’s strong hands and shifts in his chair.

“I just remembered, Sam and I have something really important to do,” Bucky announces. “So we’ll see you next week, right? OK, cool. C’mon, Paddington!”

Bucky grabs Paddington’s cute little dog bed and Paddington hops down from Sam’s lap to follow them out of the office, his tail wagging happily as he trots along beside them. God, Paddington is so fucking cute, Bucky cannot believe what a great dog he is.

Dr. Carson calls out after them through gritted teeth. “You’re not supposed to take the therapy dog with you!”

“Sorry, what?” Sam shouts back, cupping his hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you!”

“Bucky, I know you have super hearing!”.

“Sorry, I’m a hundred and six years old and I left my ear trumpet at home!” Bucky raises his hands in an exaggerated shrug to convey the hopelessness of trying to communicate at this great distance of about forty feet.

“God, I need a fucking vacation forever,” Dr. Carson mutters.

***

Later, after Bucky and Sam collapse against Sam’s sheets in sweaty exhaustion, Bucky mentally tallies their points and comes to the frustrating conclusion that Sam is still absolutely wiping the floor with him in this love languages competition. God, how is Sam so good at everything? He’s so fucking handsome and charming and athletic and just, like, absolute dynamite in the sack—

God, no wonder Bucky’s losing. There’s no way he can win this competition with his dick alone. Time to channel Tommy Dorsey and play it from the heart.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky murmurs, leaning up to nuzzle his nose against Sam’s jaw. “Let me cook you dinner tonight, doll. Wanna treat you right.”

“‘M not your doll,” Sam grumbles. “But yeah, OK.”

Bucky kisses Sam’s shoulder and plots.

Three hours later, Bucky and Steve survey Bucky’s dining room with the smug satisfaction of Scarlett O’Hara stealing her sister’s fiancé to get her greedy hands on his general store and sawmill.

“I think we nailed it, pal,” Steve boasts. “This looks just like your date night mood board.”

“I mean, I feel like half the credit should go to Pinterest user donkeydick2004—who would’ve guessed that he’d have such a sensitive soul.”

Bucky’s dining room table is covered with rose petals sprinkled over Bucky’s mother’s best lace tablecloth, liberated from the archives of the Smithsonian along with the rest of the contents of Steve and Bucky’s old Brooklyn Heights apartment. Two lit candles rise proudly from the gleaming silver of Sarah Rogers’s candleholders—the only wedding gift she’d managed to save from the pawnbroker during those lean years of Steve’s childhood—and the Victrola crackles with the smooth tenor of Enrico Caruso singing an aria so romantic it once brought a tear to the clear, flinty eye of Bucky’s father. Bucky’s grateful now that the Barneses were a Victor Talking Machine Company family—those Edison wax cylinders decayed faster than American democracy after the invention of Facebook.

The first time Bucky saw the familiar red logo of that Caruso record again—faithful Nipper the dog, his head tipped toward the horn of a gramophone playing the sound of his dead master’s voice—Bucky drove straight out into the desert and screamed until he was hoarse.

And now tonight Bucky’s using that very record to romance the shit out of Sam Wilson, so Nick Fury and Dr. Carson can fuck off with their so-called “therapy” because Bucky Barnes is doing great.

Steve clears his throat and gives Bucky a meaningful look. “You know, if this is all just some competition between you and Sam, you didn’t have to drive out to Maryland to dig all of our most personal and intimate memories out of storage for this dinner.”

Flustered, Bucky replies, “You have no idea what a canny opponent Sam is! Every time that man talks, my heart flutters and my stomach’s all full of butterflies. Besides,” Bucky says, “my grandfather paid fifty extra dollars to get the Circassian walnut veneer put on that old Victrola—he would haunt me if I didn’t ever use it, Steve.”

“You know your Aunt Margaret spit on her own father’s grave when your grandfather left that Victrola to your dad instead of her?”

Bucky laughs. “Is that why they had that big falling out? I couldn’t remember.”

“Peggy said that your Aunt Margaret wrote Howard Stark a letter every month until the day she died demanding the return of that Victrola.”

“Well, I hope that greedy old hag is looking down at me right now,” Bucky says, shaking his head in disbelief. “She deserves to watch me seduce my gay lover with that Victrola, it serves her right. You know she called you a fairy once?”

Steve gestures toward the intimate tableau featuring all of Bucky’s most precious memories and dryly states, “Well, as long as you’re clear on spite as your motivation for all of this.”

Bucky bites his lip as a sudden fear strikes him. “Do you think Sam’s going to like the chicken? People still roast chicken, right? It’s not just, like, sushi and gluten free vegan desserts nowadays?”

Steve opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a knock at the door. Paddington dives off the sofa like he’s responding to an Avengers Assemble alarm—which, oh my god, could Paddington wear a little outfit and come with the Avengers on ops? Bucky needs to look into this immediately—and dances around in elation when Bucky opens the door to reveal Sam, who is looking fine as hell in a lavender button-down and navy trousers.

And Bucky’s heart is—honestly not reacting much differently than Paddington right now.

“Aw, hi, baby!” Sam says, leaning down to pet Paddington and scratch him behind the ears. When Sam’s finished giving Paddington the attention he so richly deserves, Bucky’s pulled in for a long, heartbreakingly tender kiss that sends a shiver of want down the entire length of his spine. Sam and Steve exchange their own greetings while Bucky surreptitiously reaches up to rub at the goosebumps prickling at the sensitive skin at the back of his neck.

“Steve, you’re going to be OK watching Paddington tonight, right?” Bucky’s voice is threaded with the justifiable suspicion of someone who has known Steve Rogers for a lifetime.

Steve’s mouth drops open in offense. “Yes! Bucky, I know how to watch a dog.”

Bucky lifts Paddington’s tiny body and curls his arms protectively around him. “OK, well, Paddington is the most important thing in the world to me, and you are literally the least responsible person I know, so.”

“What? Bucky, I’m—that’s—I’m Captain America. I’m famously responsible.”

“Sam is Captain America, Steve. I feel like you’re not moving on. Also my brain might be a giant lump of small curd cottage cheese now, but I still remember that you’re a reckless idiot.”

Sam gives Steve a sharp look of his own and says, “Steve, Paddington is very important to Bucky’s therapy and also to our therapy as a couple—” Sam pauses, then adds, “of coworkers. So make sure you give him his favorite treats, but don’t give him too many treats, and make sure he doesn’t pull the squeaker out of his stuffed alligator—”

Bucky and Sam lead Steve to the door while Sam continues to debrief Steve on all of Paddington’s most important feelings and preferences. “You should really be writing all of this down, Steve,” Sam says with a frown.

Steve sighs. “I have an eidetic memory.”

“All right, well, if we pick him up in the morning and he has an upset tummy, I will literally kill you, and Sam—the trustworthy Captain America—will be my alibi,” Bucky says.

Sam nods in solemn agreement.

Bucky and Sam part from Paddington with identical expressions of worry as Steve walks him down the hall to his apartment.

As soon as Steve’s door closes, Bucky is all over Sam, pressing him against the wall and skimming his lips over the warm skin of Sam’s neck. God, Sam smells incredible, like tobacco and vanilla and oiled leather, and somehow the masculine scent of him travels down Bucky’s windpipe and directly to his cock.

“Hi,” Bucky breathes.

“Hey, baby,” Sam murmurs, tipping his head back to let Bucky’s lips trail along his throat to his jawline. Bucky’s just getting really into it, his hips pressing insistently against Sam’s, when the timer for the oven goes off.

Over dinner, Bucky and Sam talk and laugh about their coworkers as the candlelight does frankly amazing things for Sam’s bone structure. Bucky squirms in his chair and tries to will away the flush he can feel spreading up his neck when Sam compliments Bucky on the romantic lighting and the beautiful place settings. Fuck, he’s supposed to be giving Sam quality time here, and instead Sam’s using that quality time to offer Bucky more words of affirmation. Bucky’s not really ready to concede this battle just yet, but he’s definitely starting to craft a defeat narrative for himself about the lack of shame in being beaten by the best.

And Sam is definitely the best.

“That chicken was incredible.” Sam pats his stomach and groans in satisfaction. “You know that’s just how my mama always makes it?”

Bucky wonders if it would be weird to divulge that he actually broke into Sam’s mother’s house to sneak a look at her recipe cards. That’s normal intelligence gathering, right? Bucky made sure Sam’s mom was out of the house when he entered, and afterward he sent a team of security specialists to give her a better alarm system setup—”compliments of SHIELD, ma’am”—when he realized that her house was way too easy to break into. And Bucky’s dad always said to leave things better than you found them, so if anything Sam’s mom is probably safer now than she was before the world’s most legendary assassin crept into her house to rifle through her personal belongings.

He feels like Natasha would agree with him but he also feels like Natasha is probably just as batshit insane as Bucky and Steve are. Bucky has literally no normal friends and he should probably start spending more time with Sharon Carter.

After dinner, Sam looks relaxed and sated, his eyes warm and heavy-lidded as he watches Bucky shiver under his praise. “You know you have a praise kink, right?”

“Yes, Sam,” Bucky says, and tries to refrain from rolling his eyes. “Steve and I did a ton of research and watched, like, hours of porn together. We figured it out.”

“You and Steve have some serious boundary issues.” Sam shakes his head and grins in amusement. “But seriously, though, you’re not just hooking up with me because you imprinted on me after I made your dick hard or something, right? I mean, I remember the first time I got a boner after being deployed. I cried like a baby, so I get it, man, but—”

“Actually, I sort of wanted to talk to you about that,” Bucky says, his stomach swimming with nerves. This is the moment he’s been anticipating and dreading since he planned this whole date night op. “I was thinking—how would you feel about taking this competition to the next level?”

Sam’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just think we’d both have more time and energy to devote to this competition if we were competing, you know, exclusively.”

“Ah.” Sam’s expression clears and a slow smile spreads across his handsome face. “You want to be boyfriends.”

“I want to be boyfriends,” Bucky confirms with a decisive nod.

He may be losing this love language competition by about a hundred and fifty points, but Bucky still has some fight in him yet. And between work and sex and co-ownership of Paddington, Bucky’s already spending so much time with Sam that there’s no real way to increase the amount of time in “quality time”—but he can improve the quality of that time. If Bucky and Sam are boyfriends, Bucky figures, all that quality time should automatically count for more points than the quality time they spend together as coworkers with confusing feelings for each other, right?

Bucky’s lungs burn as he holds his breath held in anticipation of Sam’s response.

“Yeah, let’s be boyfriends,” Sam says, with a grin tugging at his lips.

Bucky’s heart soars in victory.

***

Bucky and Sam have decided not to bring Paddington with them to any future therapy appointments just in case Dr. Carson tries to take him away like Cruella de Vil.

This week, however, Dr. Carson shows up their session with a whole new vibe. Instead of striding imperiously into her office in her usual stern fashion, Dr. Carson blows in fifteen minutes late with the casual energy of a high school senior during the last week of school. She walks over to her desk, flip-flops slapping against her feet, and reclines back in her chair to prop her feet up onto the polished surface of her solid oak desk. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie like a suburban mom in an airport waiting to fly down to Miami for a Caribbean cruise.

“So how’s it going this week, boys?” Dr. Carson asks, slurping from the straw of her Big Gulp soda.

“Um, great.” Sam eyes her cautiously. “Bucky and I are boyfriends now.”

“No shit!” Dr. Carson says, and tilts her head back to squint down at them. “Huh. What do you know about that.” Then she shrugs. “Tell me how it happened.”

So Bucky and Sam tell her every detail of the last week, including the way they tenderly made love after Sam agreed to be Bucky’s boyfriend. Dr. Carson is clear-eyed and engaged the entire time, even during the five full minutes Sam devotes to the ripple of Bucky’s abdominal muscles as he strains toward orgasm, and Bucky’s just starting to think that maybe they can get some real therapy out of Dr. Carson when she says—

“So Fury’s transferring me to Hawaii.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. “What?”

“Yup.” Dr. Carson burrows deeper into her chair and lets out a relaxed sigh before taking another loud sip of her soda. “This is our last session!”

“So do we have a new therapist after this, or?” Sam waves his hand uncertainly.

“Nah, I’m just gonna go ahead and tell Fury that you guys are doing great. You’ve officially graduated therapy.”

Bucky chokes on air. “Excuse me, what? We graduated therapy?”

“Sure, why not?” Dr. Carson says with a lazy shrug. “Despite literally all of my expectations to the contrary, it seems like you guys have actually formed a stable partnership. Just, you know, maybe stop fucking so much at work.”

Bucky scoffs. “Listen, I didn’t give my life fighting Nazis in World War II—” he begins.

***

After Bucky and Sam’s appointment with Dr. Carson, Sam receives a text asking him to meet Fury in his executive suite.

Bucky heads back to his own office—his real one, buried deep within the bowels of SHIELD in a secret interrogation room someone bricked up the entrance to and then forgot about years ago. Bucky discovered it while crawling through the air ducts to place surveillance equipment in the offices of Nick Fury and the major SHIELD department heads. Once Bucky disposed of the mummified body he found inside—which, wow, super gross—it made the perfect private office space and server room.

Bucky opens his surveillance software just in time to hear Fury tell Sam that Bucky broke his best therapist.

“Dr. Carson is a highly trained professional at the top of her field,” Fury says, his voice stern. “I had to offer her a fifty percent raise to lure her away from private practice, and now I’m sending her away from D.C., where all of my elite agents reside, to Honolulu, which is where I send all the useless nepotism agents I’m forced to hire by the World Security Council. I don’t know what Barnes did to that woman but he just cost me a very experienced and expensive mental health professional.”

“And what makes you think Agent Barnes is at fault?”

“Dr. Carson is obviously not at liberty to divulge any specifics about what was said during your therapy sessions, but she did note that your bickering was ‘maddening’ and that she, quote, hadn’t even realized it was possible to overshare during therapy. She also indicated that Barnes instigated an invasive and traumatizing background check that caused her a great deal of personal distress.’”

“Given Agent Barnes’s history with SHIELD, I think it’s perfectly understandable that he may have sought reassurance that Dr. Carson wasn’t an agent of HYDRA.” Sam’s voice is bland and pleasant. “It’s hardly Agent Barnes’s fault that Dr. Carson turned out to have a surprisingly messy personal life.”

“Be that as it may, I’m suspending Barnes from active duty until he passes a second psych eval from another therapist.”

“With all due respect, sir, Agent Barnes has been nothing but cooperative in this retaliatory investigation into his mental state. He’s a skilled and creative fighter, a selfless and generous partner, and a brilliant tactician. He deserves to be treated with the same respect as any other SHIELD agent who hasn’t shot you.”

Jesus Christ, is Sam offering Bucky words of affirmation even when he’s not there to hear them? What kind of love language master is Sam? God, how can Bucky possibly compete with this?

Fury’s voice is strangled. “Retaliatory?”

“Yes,” Sam says firmly. “As far as I’m aware, Agent Barnes has cleared all mandatory psychological evaluations and then some. If you have a problem with his—or my—behavior in the workplace, I suggest you carefully review our employment contracts and initiate the appropriate disciplinary proceedings. In the meantime, I will be continuing with Agent Barnes as my partner. There will be no suspension.”

The sound of Fury’s office door slamming shut is unexpectedly erotic.

By the time Sam slides through the secret passageway into Bucky’s office, Sam looks calm and collected, like he hasn’t just returned from facing down a man with the power and authority to send him to one of a half-dozen black sites so secret they probably exist on other planets.

“So how’d the meeting go?” Bucky asks, suppressing a grin.

“Oh, it was fine,” Sam says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. “We don’t have to do therapy anymore.”

Bucky lets his smile spread across his face. “Oh, yeah? No more retaliatory investigations into my mental state?”

When Sam realizes how Bucky must have overheard that remark, his eyes widen in delight. “I’m sorry, did you bug Fury’s office? Bucky Barnes, you crazy asshole, I love you so fucking much.”

Bucky freezes. Sam loves him? Adrenaline and exhilaration race through Bucky’s veins, spreading through his entire circulatory system until he feels like he’s going to buzz right out of his skin. For the second time in Bucky’s life, he’s been flung straight over the side of a cliff, except this time Sam has wings to catch him. God, this is why they call it falling, isn’t it?

Bucky is feeling so fucking affirmed right now. He has never felt so affirmed in his entire life.

And Bucky’s lost that stupid competition now, hasn’t he. There’s no way Bucky can compete with that declaration, no way he can pull off a victory after Sam just earned himself, like, fifty million points—but when Bucky looks at Sam’s gap-toothed grin, he thinks maybe, just maybe, he’s secretly won after all.

And he does have one last, best card to play.

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky says, with a wide grin, “how do you feel about moving in together?”

[stellar-alley]

Of Scales and Sea Glass

•Chapter 1•

 Next Chapter >>

(Summary: Eddie deals with the anniversary of his parent's death. After an intense tropical storm, he discovers something has washed up in his pool.)

Also shout out to @ambitiousskychild on tumblr for being my beta!

~

It’s just water.   You’ll be fine   God, why do you always worry so damn much?

“FUCK” Eddie groaned as he raked his hand through his hair. “Fuck…” He repeated, letting his voice trail off this time. 

It’s been a year, you should be over this by now . 

Sure it might’ve been a year, but that didn’t mean Eddie Kaspbrak was any less terrified of the ocean. Its endless blue and unexplored depths made Eddie want to be anywhere else. It didn’t help that the ocean was literally in Eddie’s backyard. All that he needed to know was that exactly one year ago today, that blue, those depths, took his parent’s lives, and that was enough to scare the boy shitless. Only now, on the anniversary of Sonia and Frank Kaspbrak’s death, did he finally decide to do something about it. 

Eddie stood about 50 feet away from his back porch, his feet in the sand and a towel wrapped over his shoulders. He watched the waves fall and crash over the sand. Tonight the weathermen were calling for a killer storm, which seemed oddly appropriate in the boy’s head. It was almost like his mother was giving him a sign. It was like her way of saying “Eddie-bear, go back inside! The world is dangerous, so stay in your room!” because that’s what she did. 

For most of Eddie’s life, he was fed placebos, convinced he had asthma, and practically forced to be straight. It was all his mother’s doings. Ever since her death Eddie has come to terms with all of his fake illnesses, he’s even been able to come out to his friends! Of course, they all accepted him and helped him whenever he needed it. He was really grateful for the losers he called his friends. 

Lighting struck in the distance, it sent a flash of light over Eddie’s face that caused him to shrink into his towel. The dark clouds that loomed overhead only caused Eddie’s heart to beat harder inside his ribcage. 

Thunder cackled soon after. Eddie’s eyes teared up as he looked up and into the waves, “I-I’m sorry,” He choked, barely able to get the words out. 

Eddie shuffled back into his oceanside house before the rain started, which was good cause when it rained, it poured. The first thing he did when he got inside was close all of the blinds, unable to look out into his backyard without his stomach-turning, the guilt was practically eating away at him. The last thing he saw as he closed the blinds were his pool, the water reflected the dark clouds that loomed overhead, creating a haunting atmosphere. 

The realization caused Eddie to sigh, “That’s gonna be a pain in my ass to clean.” Storms like these always brought the most random crap up from the bottom of the ocean, somehow all of it always ended up in Eddie’s pool. He didn’t even want the pool, he lived so close to the ocean, it was kinda useless. Well, aside from the days when it was too cold to swim in the ocean , that’s when he’d usually heat the pool up and swim in there instead. That was when he still swam. Now he hasn’t used that thing in well over a year. 

After Sonia and Frank passed, The Kaspbrak’s residence was passed down to their only child, Eddie. That house included an underground pool, a house way too big for one person, and an almost private beach that only he and his next door neighbours had access to. (His neighbours on the left never used it though. They were an elderly couple. Sometimes he’d find them sitting outside on the warm days, but they weren’t the outdoor type. His neighbours on the right had their yard fenced off). Eddie never used the pool but kept it clean for the days when his friends came over. They'd go swimming while he read in the shade. 

That night Eddie slept with his ear buds in, music on loud and the covers pulled over his head. He hated how scared he was of the water. He missed the way the waves made him feel. It was something he's never felt before, when he swam he was safe, and free. He's tried to overcome it, but nothing has worked. He'd need a miracle to convince him to get back into the water. 

 ~

Eddie woke up the next morning to the early morning sunlight streaming in through the cracks of his blinds. He mentally cursed out God for creating the sun before he turned over and shoved his face deeper into his pillow. After about 20 more minutes of internal complaining, Eddie finally dragged himself out of bed. His head was waterlogged, hazed by sleep. So when he opened the blinds to his back doors all he saw was a mass of sea shit that now crowded his pool. Instead of focusing on exactly what had washed up onto his property, he simply rolled his eyes and went to go back to breakfast. 

Eddie checked his phone, hoping it’d wake his mind up a little but he sighed as he realized he didn’t have any wifi. His realization brought a thought to the forefront of his mind. “Oh no…. No, no, no,” Eddie mumbled as he padded over towards the nearest light switch. “Fuck,” He leaned his head up against the wall when the lights didn’t turn on. This was something else that happened a lot when they were hit by a storm, the power goes out. 

After breakfast, Eddie got changed out of his pyjamas. He opted to put on an older black tee as he knew he’d be cleaning today. He pulled his iconic red shorts on and slipped on a pair of sneakers. He gathered up all of the cleaning supplies he had set aside for storms like these and set them out on his back porch. 

The morning air smelled of rain and salt. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees from the previous day, which was refreshing, but it didn’t change the fact that Eddie had a whole yard to clean. 

First, he swept off the porch. He pushed all of the twigs, branches and sand onto the ground below. He noticed one of his neighbour’s palm trees had several fallen branches. That would explain the countless leaves that were scattered across his yard and filled his pool. 

After, he collected as much of the debris from the lawn as he could. Stuffing everything into garbage bags, tying them up, then carrying them to his front yard, where they’d sit until garbage day. Once he was in his front yard, he looked around at his neighbour’s lawns and saw they were all going through the same hell that he was. Everyone was out with garbage bins and shovels, cleaning up the mess the storm left behind. 

“EDDIE! HEY!” A voice called out to him. 

Eddie turned towards the voice and saw his neighbour to the right, Beverly Marsh. He was one of the lucky kids who conveniently lived beside one of his best friends. While the rest of their Losers Club lived no more than 20 minutes away, Bev and Eddie lived the closest, which made it easy for the group to meet up. Even if their meetups almost always ended up at Eddie’s house. 

When his mother was alive, she rarely let all of them come over, but now that she was gone, most of their summer break was spent in Eddie’s backyard, in the pool, on the beach, or in his basement watching movies. Eddie didn’t mind, he enjoyed the company. Especially since living alone got, well, lonely. So he made sure to soak up every moment he could get with his Losers. 

Eddie’s resting bitch face was washed out and replaced by a genuinely happy smile. “Marsh! How’s it hanging?” Eddie said in his best surfer bro voice. 

“It’s totally tubular,” She said, followed by a laugh. “How’s your place? No power?” She asked as she put down the bag she was holding and crossed her yard and onto Eddie’s. 

“Yeah, and my yard is a fucking mess. Don’t even get me started on the pool,” Eddie groaned at the thought.

A smug smile spread over Beverly’s lips, “It’s the days like these when I’m grateful I don’t have a pool. Can’t you just get the pool guys to come and clean it?” She questions. 

“I would but it’d cost me an arm and a leg. I’m just gonna clean then get someone to refill it. It’ll be fine,” He sighed. Eddie was gonna ask if she wanted to help but he lost his chance when Beverly’s aunt came outside. 

“Beverly! Oh, Hi Eddie. How are you doing?” She smiled at him. Beverly’s aunt Katherine was always nice to Eddie, she always helped him whenever he needed it, cooking meals and helping with bills. She was pretty great. 

“As good as I can be after a storm like this, crazy isn’t it?” He nods his head. 

“It really is, on that note, Bev, we should be getting back to work,” She said as Bev nodded. 

“I’ll see you later Eddie. Let me know if you get ahold of the rest of our rat pack, alright?” She winked as she slowly began to back away. 

“Yes ma’am!” Eddie saluted and returned to the backyard. 

He sighed. “No better time than the present, am I right?” He asked himself as he picked up the big net that was propped against the porch, then walked towards the pool.

The water had turned a dark green-grey. It didn’t smell too bad, which was a blessing as Eddie has a sensitive stomach and wasn’t in the mood of adding barf to his list of things to clean. He swept the net over the surface of the water for a couple minutes before noticing how there were a lot bigger pieces of debris than he had realized. 

Looks like we gotta break out the big guns  , Eddie left the net on the side of the pool and went to grab some rubber gloves and one of his big grey garbage cans. He stood at the edge of the pool and stared down at the water below him. It was different when he had the net, he barely had to lean over the edge, but now he was worried about falling in.  What if I lean in, fall, and drown, or get knocked unconscious and die? Eddie calmed his breathing down before it got a chance to pick up. 

“Okay, Eddie, you’re fine,” He let out a shaky breath. He ended up laying down on the pavement, flat on his stomach and stuck his arms over the edge, not daring to let anything below his neck hang over the edge of the pool. Slowly but surely he dragged most of the debris out and onto the pavement, which would then be put into the garbage, but right now he just needed to get everything out of the pool. Amongst the trash and green life he found in the water, he also fished out a pair of glasses, although they didn’t seem like normal glasses. First off, they were pretty big, but the lenses seemed oddly fogged and thick. Reminding Eddie of the sea glass he’s collected over the years of living on the coast. He set them aside and made a note to investigate them further once he was done here. 

After a couple of hours of hard work, Eddie stood over the pool and admired all of his hard work. Sure there was still a bunch of shit at the bottom of the pool, but he agreed to clean that out once the pool had been emptied. There had been a particular pile of debris off in the corner that caught Eddie’s eye. It seemed to be a pile-up of plants and what looked to be a fishing net. He walked over to that side of the pool and squinted down at the trash. Something was dimly shining beneath the pile of soggy algae that covered it. 

Maybe a fish got washed into the pool? Hm, poor dude, Eddie shrugged, about to walk away when the pile twitched ever so slightly, Eddie could have convinced himself he was seeing things, but something was telling him he wasn’t. Determined to see what it was, Eddie quickly grabbed the net and poked the pile of debris. He shied away after the first poke, then moved to poke it again. It twitched again. Eddie’s brow furrowed as he poked it again, a little harder this time. This time it shifted positions, allowing Eddie to see a little bit more of the creature that sat at the bottom of his pool. 

The shine came from scales, and there were a lot of them.  How big is this fucking fish? Oh shit- do I have a shark in my pool?! No dumbass, sharks don’t have scales…

Instead of poking it again, Eddie used the butt end of the net to try to move the debris off of the creature. He was able to push most of the algae aside, but the creature must’ve been tangled up in that damned net. The creature might not have been 100% visible, but he had a better view of it now. 

“Is that? No way…” Eddie began to speak to himself as he examined the creature. “That can’t be...” He said as he examined the part of the creature that looked like it had hair. Well whatever it had that looked like hair, it was inky black, it slowly swayed around-  A HEAD?   “WHAT THE FUCK!” Eddie shrieked as he began to stumble backwards. He stammered and wobbled. But suddenly, one of the bricks that lined the pool gave out beneath him, and he fell forwards. He fell into the pool with a big splash. 

He didn’t even have time to think, his mind was overtaken by panic. Eddie thrashed and splashed, he tried to pull himself to the surface but the water was blurring his vision, making it impossible to tell which way was up. He barely had time to take in any air as he was randomly tossed into the pool. So his lungs ached and his head throbbed. He wanted to scream out for help or stop moving just for a second, in hopes that’d he just float to the surface. But he couldn’t stop, his legs kicked wildly in the water, his shoes heavy on his feet and his clothes constricting his movement. 

He was too busy thinking about his own death to notice the pair of arms that’d wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s lungs began to  burn  , they begged for air, but Eddie knew that he was  not  going to let his mouth open. He refused to die the same death that his parents had. With that, his vision began to blur more than it already was. His mind hazed over and his thrashing minimized. His vision was dotted with black spots, due to lack of oxygen. 

I’m gonna die . 

~

Suddenly he was gasping for air. His lungs heaved as he spat up water and tried to breathe in as much air as he could. He rubbed the water out of his eyes. It took a moment for his gaze to clear, but once he did he realized he was sitting on the edge of the pool, his clothes soaked and his hair filled with leaves and dirt. 

What the fuck happened? How did I get here?  The questions overloaded Eddie’s mind as his breathing quickened, there was so much going on,  too much . 

The water beside him splashed, a light spray of water settled on him. He hesitantly looked over, hoping to see nothing, that he had dreamt it all up. But when he turned his head, he saw something drifting slowly towards him in the water. He hadn’t failed to notice how murkey the water had gotten. It’s green tinge now brown, and a little red. He didn’t even let himself think about what made it red. Eddie panicked and jackknifed, hastily shuffling backwards and away from the water. 

Eddie’s eyes were as wide as saucers, his eyebrows practically in his hairline. His breathing practically stopped as he watched the black hair he’d seen previously slowly poke up out of the water. Eddie wanted to get up and run, call the cops,  something , but he couldn’t. He was frozen in fear and anticipation. He couldn’t help that little bit of wonder that filled his head as the creature continued to come up from the waters’ surface. 

He watched as the head moved up just enough to reveal a pair of impossibly blue eyes. They stared back at him, partially covered by the black hair hanging in its face. Something about the eyes seemed hazy, almost as if they weren’t clear, they squinted for a moment before opening up wide again. 

Eddie could only muster a weak “hi,” as he stared at the creature before him. The blue eyes rolled and bubbles erupted in front of him. The head sunk back down into the water.

A splash caused Eddie to tear his eyes away from where the head once was, and look up. Further down in the pool he watched as a fish like tail splashed against the surface of the water. Half of its fin was covered in the fishing net. The rope digging into the scales. Eddie finally saw what was the cause of the red in the water. The net had various hooks still attached to it. They dug into the scales of the tail, causing it to leak red blood. Eddie’s stomach dropped. 

The tail splashed against the surface of the water again. It acted as a reality check for Eddie as he finally mustered the strength to stand up. Once he was on his feet, he wobbled momentarily before marching towards his porch. He didn’t look back as he closed his patio door. He kept walking until he was in his bathroom. 

He turned on the shower and waited until it filled the small room with steam. The boiling water practically burned all the dirt off of his skin. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to even realize he began thinking out loud. 

“There’s someone in my pool,” He started, his voice distant, “And a fish. A massive fucking fish.” He thought about the mess of hair he’d seen at the bottom of the pool. “No one can survive being underwater that long… No one, but not nothing.”

What if it wasn’t two things in my pool…  

He contemplated the idea for a second, “BUT THEY DON’T EXIST!” Eddie shouted in frustration, thrusting his fist against the ceramic wall of his shower. So many ideas floated through Eddie’s head, he hated it, he hated not knowing what was in his pool. And he hated the fact that the only idea that made semi sense, was that he had a fucking mermaid in his pool. 

“But they’re made-up. Stories, fairytailes.  Not real life, ” He countered, recalling movies like The Little Mermaid and Aquamarine. “But what else explains the tail?” He asked himself in defeat. 

Eddie turned the water to the shower off. His skin was red and raw, he could practically see the steam coming off of himself. He rested his forehead against the wall of his shower and tried to clear his head.  In and out… In and out  , he reminded himself as he took a couple minutes to just  breathe . 

After the hurricane in his head finally calmed down, he allowed himself to think back to what he’d seen outside. Careful to not open the dam of memories, he focused on the tail, the head, the water,  the blood . 

The poor thing is hurt , Eddie sharply inhaled. “Shit…” He recalled the net, and how it dug into the creature's tail. He shivered at the thought of what it must be going through. Then he remembered why he took the shower in the first place, he fell into the pool, and that fish thing, it saved him.

With a new game plan, Eddie finished up in the bathroom, got dressed, then got his fist aid kit and all the other supplies he needed. He went back outside, the sun beating down over his head as he stood on his patio and surveyed his backyard. A new level of determination filled the human. He was intrigued to find out what the hell was in his pool, and this was the best way he could find that out. 

He marched down and to the water’s edge, but all the bravery he had mustered died the moment he saw the creature floating on its front at the edge of Eddie’s pool. 

He raised his hands to cover his mouth, his eyes wide, “Fuck,” he cursed. His mind automatically assumed the worst,  death . But he tried to mentally assure himself that it had just passed out as he didn’t want to panic.

Eddie got down on his knees and carefully leaned over to grab the creature. He held his breath, worried about falling in, but he was able to pull the creature to the edge of the pool. He pushed it over onto its back. He wanted to inspect its face and features but Eddie needed to get him out of the water before those cuts got infected. 

Quickly, Eddie laid a towel down on the pavement beside the pool, worried about what the heat of the ground would do to the fish’s scales. When it came time to pulling the thing out of the water, he hadn’t thought about how much that fucking tale would weigh. He hooked his arms under the arms of the creature and tried to pull him out. He heaved and tugged. 

“Holy shit- you’re  so  fucking heavy,” Eddie gasped,  half way there , he thought to himself. All of the human part was out, and half of the tail, now all he had left was the rest of the tail and the monofin. Eddie took in one sharp inhale before he pulled the rest of it out in one final tug. He gasped as he suddenly landed on his back, the fish flopped down onto the towel beside him. 

Eddie didn’t take too long to recover, he was too interested in seeing what exactly he had just fished out of his swimming pool. He sat on his knees and surveyed the creature that laid uncious before him. 

It was indeed, a mermaid. 

The upper half of its body was made of pasty white skin, as smooth as a shark's skin. It shined in the afternoon sunlight. Its arms were long and fairly skinny with a little muscles. Eddie carefully lifted up one of its hands. He inspected it, noticing how there was an almost translucent webbing that connected his long and bony fingers. Then he let out a small gasp at the claws that laid at the edges of his fingers. They looked sharp, one swipe would surely draw blood. With that, he carefully laid the hand back down by its side. 

Eddie leaned forward a little to examine the creature's face. He lifted a hand, gently pushing some of the soggy hair out of his face. He frowned at the slash that ran across its cheeks, cutting through a wild pack of freckles. His pale skin allowed the freckles on his cheeks to shine like stars on a clear night. Eddie thought about counting them, like he had the stars, but he opted not to as he knew he had more pressing tasks at hand. He took one last glance at the face, allowing himself to soak in the mermaid's features in all its beauty. Yes,  beauty. Even Eddie couldn’t deny it, the creature was fairly beautiful. But now isn't the time for crushes, Eddie shook his head as he finally made his way down to the tale. 

Eddie examined its chest. It was fairly skinny, not malnourished, as in he could slightly see his ribs, but it wasn't too concerning. He noticed a couple bruises and various scrapes that would need to be disinfected. He followed the pale skin down. Suddenly Eddie’s brows furrowed together. The creature had no belly button. But if he had, then the scales would have started just below it. 

Now without the water blurring their colour, he was able to see the scales in all their glory. They were a pastel blue, some places darker than others, the shades varying as the tail continued. The tip of its monofin shined a sparkly silver that could give the real stuff a run for its money.

Finally, he got to his feet and overlooked  all of the creature’s injuries. Sure he had some scraps, cuts and bruises along the upper part of its body, but its tail got the worst of it. The net was tangled up in its monofin and dug into its scales, causing some of them to flake off. 

He raked his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Fuck,” he sighed, realizing how much work he had to do. Without wasting any more time, he leaned over to the abundance of supplies he’d brought outside and grabbed the exacto knife to cut the net. Just as the blade popped out and Eddie leaned in, something cold and slimy grabbed his wrist. His body went cold, head snapping towards the mermaids. His eyes locked with the fish’s. The blues of his eyes were wide and determined. Eddie looked down and realized it was the hand with the knife. Quickly he grabbed the knife with his free hand and tossed it to the side. 

“Hey-Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie motioned his hands to show that they were empty and he meant no harm. Only then did the creature release Eddie’s hand, his head flopping back against the towel.  Eddie leaned over and saw that its eyes were still open, but they were hazed, almost unfocused. Eddie didn’t think too much of it, probably the salt water making him go blind or something. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna try to remove the net, alright?” He asked, but received no response. He leaned back over and pulled his bifocals out of his second fanny pack, then leaned back in and began examining the net. 

The mermaid’s head tilted upwards, it watched the human’s fingers traced along the edges of the net. Its eyes grew wide at the sight of the spectacles on Eddie’s face. 

Eddie noticed the movement and glanced over at the creature. He hummed lightly, wondering what it was looking at. The moment didn’t last too long as when Eddie leaned away from the tail, the creature lunged at him. Its arms out and claws sharp, its eyes filled with determination. Eddie shrieked and fell backwards, his hands flew up to his face. 

After a moment of heavy breathing, he realized he felt no pain. He slowly moved his shaky hands away from his face and looked up at the mermaid. He was surprised to see it carefully holding his bifocals. 

It held it in his hands as if they were so fragile they’d break. The creature slid them onto his face as if it was a second nature. The blue eyes blinked a couple times before its face scrunched up in confusion. It took the glasses off and held them once again in its hands. Now its face was filled with disbelief and worry. 

“What?” Eddie asked, unsure of what was happening. 

The creature looked up at the human with sad, hazy eyes. For a moment they just held eye contact, as if they were having a conversation with their eyes in a language Eddie didn’t understand. Then the creature held the glasses out towards Eddie with one hand, while the other pointed towards its own chest. 

Eddie’s face scrunched up, he hated charades. “What about the glasses?”. 

The creature pointed to itself once again. 

“Your glasses?” Eddie suggested, and the blue eyes widened to an impossible size. A new emotion spread over the fish’s face, excitement. “Yeah?” Eddie asked, and nodded. “Yeah!” Eddie said happily. “Yeah…” he repeated, this time with fear laced in his voice as he had no clue where its glasses were. 

Since when do mermaids wear glasses anyways? What the fuck?

“Wait- You can understand me?” It finally dawned on Eddie, he’d been talking to a mermaid, and it was responding… technically. 

Its eyebrows lowered and their glare became sharp, as if to say ‘ Yeah, so? ’, followed by a slow nod. Now it had used its free arm to prop itself up on it’s elbow so they were almost at eye level. 

Eddie smiled softly at the fish, his cheeks a little warmer than they were before. He nervously chuckled, “Oh, cool”. He rubbed the back of his neck, diverting his gaze around the backyard so he didn’t have to stare into those ocean eyes any longer. His sight landed on the pile of trash he said he’d sort through later that laid on his lawn and he noticed a piece of glass that shined in the light. 

Eddie gasped, he jumped from his sitting position up to his feet and ran to his pile of trash. He snatched the object up off of the lawn and ran back to the mermaid, practically falling down beside it. Eddie got situated on the ground, a wide smile on his face. He held them and carefully opened them up, without any further wait, he leaned in and slid the glasses on the mermaid's face. 

The fish was confused at first, unsure of how to feel about the human being so close. But the small boy didn’t give it much of a chance to react because before he could flinch, his vision cleared. Its hands moved up to its face and felt around, touching the glasses that they knew all too well. 

Finally being able to see clearly, it looked up at the boy in front of it. Its lips curved into a wide smile that got a little giggle out of the human. 

“So I guess those are yours?” Eddie asks. 

The mermaid nods proudly. The moment is cut short when a bolt of pain cuts through the fish’s tail, it grimaces and hisses.

Eddie tenses at the sound, “Oh shit! Sorry, but can I  please use the knife?” He beged, eyes wide and worried. 

The mermaid lies back down on the towel, eyes forced shut. It nods. 

Okay, okay, okay  . Eddie’s thoughts pick up at the thought of being so close to the creature. Not because it’s like- cute or anything,  no  , it’s because he doesn't want to hurt it.  Yeah, that’s why . 

Eddie gripped the exacto knife with enough strength to make his knuckles go white. His eyes skimmed over the net, deciding on where to cut. He found a spot he claimed to be a good start and began cutting. He sliced the net up and into pieces, slowly freeing the tail from its grasp. Soon enough he was just left with the pieces that had the hooks attached to them. 

“Sorry this is gonna hurt,” Eddie said before he carefully pulled the fist hook loose. The fish’s breathing hitched and filled with pain. “ Sorry!”  Eddie grimaced as he pulled another one out. This one leaked a lot more blood and the mermaids hand smacked around the ground, causing Eddie to jump at the sudden sound. It felt like it took hours to fully free the tail, but soon enough the deed was done. 

Eddie leaned back on his hands and tilted his head up towards the sun. “I’m sorry,” he breathed before looking back down at the mermaid. It sat upright now, carefully examining its tail. It reached out to touch one of the cuts. Eddie jumped into action and slapped the hand away. It hissed at Eddie. “Hey! Don’t do that, I’ve still gotta disinfect them, okay?” His tone grew impatient as he cracked open the first aid kit. 

His back began to ache from the hours he’d spent hunched over the blue tail, disinfecting the scrapes and bandaging the deeper cuts. He moved on to the upper half of the creature. 

“Tell me if this hurts, okay?” Eddie requested as the mermaid gave him a side eye look. Eddie began to slowly put pressure on different places on the fish’s chest, mainly the places with the bruises to see if- The mermaid let out a loud hiss. Eddie’s hands shot up and away as its claws came into view again. “Sorry! You have an injured rib, so that’s why it hurts. You won’t be able to move much until it heals,” Eddie explained, his mind going through the healing process when he realized it won’t be able to swim in this condition, and it certainly can’t stay on land in Eddie’s backyard. 

“Oh…” Eddie’s graze dropped, a sudden wave of fatigue washed over him as he realized what he’s gonna have to do. But before he allowed himself to think over the idea too much, he finished cleaning all of the cuts that needed it. 

“O-Okay, so I-um.... I can’t leave you here, and I can’t bring you back to the ocean cause you’re hurt and you need to properly heal. So i’m gonna bring you into my house and keep you in my bathtub, okay?” He rambled in hopes the creature understood what he was saying.  God, I sound fucking insane. This is insane! I can’t keep an oversized goldfish in my tub. But I can’t leave him out here… the pool guys are coming tomorrow and if they see him we’d be in so much shit- It’s the only way  . Eddie finalized his plan with a sigh.   

“You,” he pointed at the creature, “stay,” he demanded before he got up and went back inside. He ran upstairs and into the bathroom, flopped down beside the big bathtub, and began running the water. He set the temperature to warm then took a moment to catch his breath. 

Everything began to settle in. The mermaid, the scales, the storm, the future, the creature’s eyes, its freckles-  Okay, Eddie stop it. It’s a fucking sea creature, you can’t have a crush on it . He huffed and rolled his eyes at his gay thoughts. Eddie’s been out for a couple months now, to his mother's dismay, and he’s been happy. Sure he’s had a couple crushes before, but he’s never had one on a fish person… So he wasn't too sure what to think of that. 

The white noise created by the running water created a soothing atmosphere for the boy, and for a moment, he sat in silence and just  breathed . Though the moment was short lived, a low whale-like sound erupted from his stomach, reminding him about the fact that he hasn't had lunch yet. He looked down at his watch and saw it was already 3 pm. 

Holy shit, time flies when you're with a merman. If I’m hungry then imagine what it must be feeling, when was the last time it ate? What does it eat? Do I have anything to feed it? Okay let’s just focus on getting it inside first- Also? Finding a fucking name for this thing, I can’t keep calling it, well, IT!

Eddie shook all of the static out of his head and pulled himself to his feet. He turned the knob to the bathtub and turned the water off, he hoped the temperature would suffice, he’d find out soon enough. 

Going back to the mermaid in his backyard, he found it in the same place he left it, which was a relief. Still on its back, with an arm on its forehead to shade its eyes from the blaring afternoon sun. It sensed the human before he approached. It moved its arm and tilted its head to look up at the towering figure. 

“Hi again, so I need to pick you up to bring you inside. So you don't… die. Is that okay?” Eddie asked awkwardly. The creature simply shrugged, as if to say ‘Do what you need’. “Okay,  well , you need to help me out cause you weigh a fucking ton and I am not strong. So wrap your arms around my neck and don’t-don’t fucking eat me,” Eddie instructed as he got down on his knees, bracing himself for the weight he’d soon carry. 

The mermaid sat up. Eddie moved his hands underneath the tail, he didn’t wait for the mer to move its arms because he knew if he waited any longer he’d convince himself not to. So he sharply inhaled and lifted the mermaid up bridal style. He wobbled slightly as he gained his balance on his feet. The wobble sent a shiver down the mer’s spine, he jumped to wrap its arms around Eddie’s neck in fear of being dropped. 

The sudden motion made Eddie smirk. “Oh,  now  you do it,” he forced a small laugh. Eddie began to walk forward towards the house, each step harder than the last. 

When they got to the stairs, Eddie’s breath hitched when he went up the first stair, his arms almost gave out from beneath him. 

The mermaid shook and buried its face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie felt the glasses dig into his neck. With the sudden change of proximities,  the mer’s breath sent shivers down Eddie’s back, it was slow and warm. 

The muscles in his arms burned before he even started up the staircase to the second flood. “Fuck… me,” Eddie murmed, as if it was going to take away the fiery pain that ran through his body. 

Eddie was practically dragging his feet as he walked, unable to bring them up from the ground. His vision was set on the staircase in front of him, so he didn’t notice the one floorboard that was slightly higher than the others. The toe of his foot collided with the floorboard and they went toppling forward, hitting the floor with a big  thump . 

The creature let out a ear bleeding shriek as it fell, then pain erupted from its tail as it landed on the ground. Certainly the extra weight of a human on its torso didn’t help at all. 

Eddie was in shock for a moment, unsure of what had just happened. Looking around he turned and saw he was now face to face with the mermaid. Their eyes locked, both of them wild and concerned. Eddie snapped himself back into reality before he could get lost in the ocean eyes again. 

“I-I’m sorry.  Shit , I’m so sorry,” Eddie stammered, his body weak and his arms aching. He rolled off the creature and onto his back. “I’m sorry,” He croaked, the failure settling in. 

He didn’t move his gaze from the ceiling over his head. He didn’t want the mer to see his eyes as they filled with tears. Something cold rested on top of Eddie’s hand. Hesitantly, he dragged his eyes over to the creature beside him. The hand held onto his own as the mermaid’s lips offered a tight but comforting smile, as if to say,  it’s okay, really . Eddie shifted his hand ever so slightly so the mer’s hand fit more comfortably in his. The webbing that lined the fingers of the mermaid’s hand tickled Eddie’s. Its thumb rubbed slow circles over Eddie’s knuckles. 

“A-Are you okay?” Eddie whispered worriedly. 

The creature was in pain, for sure, but it nodded anyways, for the human’s sake. 

Neither of them were sure how long they stayed like that, hand in hand, breathing laboured and heavy, eyes on the ceiling. Although at some point Eddie’s arms felt a smidge better, and his breathing had returned. That’s when he knew he had to try again. 

“1....2...3!” Eddie lifted the mermaid off the ground again. It seemed just a little easier than last time. This time he kept his breathing steady, and kept his eyes going from the stairs in front of him to his goal, the bathroom. 

Once they stood in the middle of the upstairs hallway, Eddie took a minute and stood and caught his breath. He noticed the way the mer’s eyes drifted and examined his new surroundings. But something caught his eye and Eddie felt one of the arms slowly move away from his neck. Hesitantly he turned his head just in time to see the clawed hand reaching out for Eddie’s own little creature that sat in a fish tank that lined the hallway. It was his pet betta fish, Goldy. (He wasn't a creative kid, okay?).

“NO!” Eddie exclaimed, almost dropping the mermaid again. The sudden motion caused the arm to wrap back around Eddie’s neck in fear of being dropped. “Do  not  eat my goldfish. She is a friend, not fucking food,” he practially growled. 

The creature shrank away, not a fan of the tone Eddie had gained. As much as it wanted to lean  away  from the boy who just scolded him, it leaned  into  Eddie, it liked the warmth his skin gave off. It curled a little deeper into his touch, putting his chin on top of his shoulder and nestling into the side of his face. 

Eddie got the mermaid settled into the bathtub and immediately noticed a change in its mood. Suddenly its eyes had a new sparkle to them and his lips were always semi smiling. 

Eddie sat on the closed toilet seat and took in the sight before him.  A mermaid in my bathtub… This’ll be one hell of a diary entry  . “So! I-er, I hope this isn’t rude, but are you a girl or a boy? I know you don’t have boobs but I really don’t know how this whole  mermaid  thing works,” Eddie stopped himself before he kept rambling. 

The mer lifted two fingers in the air.  Two, second, second option. “Boy?” Eddie tilted his head. The creature nodded. He sighed in relief, “Good, good… I-I’m Eddie by the way.” The creature nodded again then ducked his head down into the water and blew bubbles up at the human. Eddie huffed in amusement at the gesture. 

The human’s stomach rumbled again. He rolled his eyes in response. He didn’t even bother telling the mermaid- merman? Merman. He didn’t bother telling him he was gonna leave cause the mer looked like he was having the time of his life blowing bubbles down under. Once he was in the kitchen, Eddie tried to be quick, opening up every cupboard and checking everywhere for food fit for a fish. The only thing he came across that seemed semi-suitable were fish sticks. Eddie eyed them for about half a minute before ripping the bag open, throwing them into a container then shoving it in the microwave. He made himself a quick sandwich, cheese and ketchup (That was the most unhealthy food Sonia ever let Eddie eat so let him be). He’d barley chewed his first bit before the microwave beeped. He held the sandwich in between his lips and held the container with both hands, moving it between the two cause it was hot. 

Once he was back in the bathroom he took his seat back down on the toilet seat and set the container on his lap. Eddie quickly ate his sandwich, only when he looked up did he notice the merman’s eyes were sitting out of the water, watching him like a hawk from behind his sea glasses. 

“Hungry?” Eddie asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

The merman lifted the rest of his head out of the water at the sight of the food. Eddie held up a fish stick, “Okay, I know this is like processed shit but,” he sighed, tired of all the talking and manual labour he’s been doing, “It’s all I have.”

The mer shrugged and opened his mouth, asking Eddie to feed him. The human was taken aback at the gesture, but he gave in and picked up a fish stick, tearing a bite-sized chunk off. Eddie leaned forward and held it out just in front of the mer’s face. Its lips felt soft against the human skin as it took the food from him. It gulped it down happily then opened his mouth up again. The fish finished the whole container. 

He opened his mouth again and Eddie scoffed, “I’m all out fish boy! I guess I’ll go get some stuff tomorrow,” Eddie motioned to the empty container. The fish let out a low grumble as he sunk back under the water and blew bubbles at Eddie, as if showing attitude.

“Oh shut it trashmouth,” Eddie retorted, the nickname just slipped out. 

The water sloshed against the side of the tub as his eyes burst back out of the water. 

Eddie let out a nervous laugh at the sudden movement, “W-What? You like that,  trashmouth? ” Eddie said in a teasing manner. The mer’s lips smirked from underwater. The sight brightened Eddie’s smile. 

“Well,  trashmouth, I have no clue what time it is but I’m tired as fuck. I’m gonna go to sleep. You should too, so you can heal,” Eddie advised. He stood, took a step towards the tub and ruffled the fish’s hair. The mer leaned into the touch, the both of them enjoyed the physical attention.

Word count: 7604

I hope you guys liked the first chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments. I will see you guys next week with chapter 2, Sushi and Speeches. Until then, So Long And Goodnight.

~

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[rainandhotchocolate]

Christmas Day

A/N Here is some pure sirius x reader fluff, spending their first christmas together :)))) Enjoy lovelies!! 

Y/N blinked in the light coming through the window beside their bed. The snow outside had made it blindingly white and it took a second before Y/N could properly see what was sitting in front of her.

“Merry Christmas!” Sirius was sitting on the bed in front of her, holding a large tray of food in on his knees.

“Merry Christmas! What is all this?” Y/N sat up carefully to avoid accidentally hitting the tray and pushed the pillows up so that they could lean against the back wall.

“Well I remember you telling me that your mum used to always make breakfast for you Christmas morning, and I wanted to thank you for spending it with me instead.” He smiled at her, the one he saved for when they were alone, when he was certain he wasn’t about to be mocked mercilessly by the boys.

“Well, it’s not like there’s anywhere else I’d rather be,” Y/N smiled back at him, feeling his arm curl around her waist to lean in and give her a soft kiss. He tasted like maple syrup and coffee.

“Sampling the goods already?”

“Well you were asleep for ages,” Sirius winked, sliding beside her and back under the covers, placing the tray on top of their legs. There was a large array of plates, a stack of pancakes, a bowl of strawberries, blueberries, and apples, toast with butter, orange juice, and two mugs of coffee.

“Well it’s not my fault you had James over until 4am last night,” Y/N rolled her eyes, feeling her mouth drool at the sight of the food. He remembered

Sirius had found her about a few weeks before Christmas sitting on the roof of her apartment. Marlene had shown him up, having not been able to get her down for 4 hours, and he’d joined her on the roof for another 30 minutes without speaking. She knew that Christmas would be hard. Her mum had loved it, spent weeks decorating the house and setting up the Christmas tree, going shopping for their cousins and Y/N. It was the first holiday without her.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Sirius was watching her, and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“Mum,” Y/N said shortly. If she spoke too much about her it still made her feel like she was choking. “She would have loved this.”

“Yeah?” Sirius smiled, “Well good, I do not want to be disappointing as the new Christmas organiser.”

“Oh, you organise Christmas now?” Y/N snorted, piling on pancakes and fruit onto a plate. Sirius followed suit, pouring a large amount of maple syrup onto his pancakes, barely missing the sheets.

“Yep, I have taken it into my care, you will never be without an incredible Christmas day,” Sirius placed his hand over his heart, his face in mock sincerity. Y/N laughed loudly but felt a warmth come up into her stomach.

“Oh man, I almost forgot!” Sirius shuffled slightly and pulled out his wand, flicking at the record player sitting in the far corner of Sirius’ room. The soft melody of Frosty the Snowman began to play through the room, making Y/N immediately chuckle.

“What is this?”

“Just a cheeky record of classic muggle Christmas songs.” Sirius’ grin seemed to cover his whole face, crinkles forming in the sides of his eyes and mouth.

“I just… I fucking love you,” Y/N laughed at his boyish expression and dug into her food. After they’d finished breakfast and Y/N had persuaded Sirius out of a food fight, Sirius picked up the tray and moved it off the bed so that they could get jumpers on to go downstairs.

“No, no no no, you have to wear this one,” Sirius was rummaging around his closet, his head deep in a pile of unfolded clothes.

“I don’t even remember the last time I left a jumper here,” Y/N raised an eyebrow, watching him continue to search, muttering to himself. If Y/N was honest with herself she might have also been watching his ass move around in front of her.

“Aha!” Sirius pulled up suddenly, spinning around and holding up an oversized dark green sweater. It had an embroidered image of a pug on the front who was covered in sparkling Christmas lights and had embroidered lettering above saying “Merry Pugmas!”

“Oh my god,” Y/N stared, eyes wide, at the jumper momentarily before bursting into laughter. “What on earth is that! Where did you find it?”

“At some vintage store that James showed Lily! We charmed the lights to sparkle.” Sirius thrust it forward to Y/N, “And I request that you must wear it during present time.”

“I honestly want to wear this, this is the most quality bad Christmas jumper I’ve ever seen.”

“Bad, Bad!” Sirius looked affronted, placing a hand to his head, “That’s it, you can’t have it now.”

“You are the most melodramatic person I have ever met.” Y/N rolled her eyes and pulled it away from him, putting it on quickly before he could take it back. “Too late punk!”

“Never too late,” Sirius’ eyes twinkled mischievously as he stalked forwards, grabbing Y/N around the waist and picking her up, throwing her carefully onto the bed and tickling her around the stomach

“Ahhh… stop! Stop!” Y/N cackled loudly as he grinned at her, pulling away so he still had his arms around her head, hands spread across the sheets. Y/N looked up at him looming over her and felt her heart skip a beat. As if he knew, his lip curled and he leaned down to kiss her softly, parting his lips and pressing them harder to hers.

“Presents?” Y/N grinned at Sirius as he pulled away.

“Definitely.” Sirius took each of Y/N’s hands and pulled her upright, leading her out of the bedroom and into the living room. There was a large fake Christmas tree standing next to Sirius’ fireplace, which had been decorated by Sirius and Y/N a week earlier and had ended with them both covered in marshmallows and naked on the rug.

There was a large stack of presents underneath the tree and Sirius slipped ahead of Y/N in order to grab some egg nog and bring it into the living room for the unwrapping. He poured Y/N a large glass and sat on the rub, crossed legged, looking ridiculously eager.

“Ok, you go first.” He took a sip of egg nog and passed Y/N a present from her stack. Y/N smiled, getting increasingly excited as she started to unwrap the present in her lap whilst Sirius watched.

“Oh my god!” Y/N gasped as she took out the gift. It was a small pendant that had a large black dog inside, tongue out and bounding around playfully. “It’s beautiful, Sirius.”

“I know you’ve been worried with me gone on missions a lot of the time, this way you’ll always know I’m safe.” Sirius had bowed his head, looking abashed. Y/N reached over and took his chin in her hand, lifting it up and kissing him.

“It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.” Y/N lifted it from the box and clasped it around her neck. “Ok, your turn.”

Y/N found her present and pulled it out for Sirius to unwrap. He grinned at her, tearing at it impatiently, finding a large packaged box.

“Holy shit is this…?” Sirius lifted it up, checking every side of it. Y/N nodded, relief washing over her when she saw his smile get a little wider.

“Yep, magical tattoo kit, pre-charmed.” Y/N watched him unbox it and feel around the edge of the needle and boxes of ink.

“This is the best! It’s my dream to do my own tattoos!”

“I know, you dork, you’ve been talking about it for like four years.”

He beamed at her, putting the box aside and jumping on top of her, giving her a hug, peppering kisses along her cheek and neck.

“I’m glad you like it,” Y/N giggled, leaning her neck back to give him more access. He sat up, still beaming at her.

“Let’s get to the rest of them, I think I can smell fudge.”

They spent the rest of the morning unwrapping gifts and drinking the majority of Sirius’ eggnog. Remus had sent both of them books on advanced defensive and dark spells,  Peter a dog collar for Sirius and leash for Y/N, and Lily sent large baked treacle tart and fudge as well as a huge patch of healing potions and a cashmere sweater for Y/N. James had sent Sirius a miniature working Quidditch pitch with mini players that flew where you told them to go, and Y/N had to stop him from playing for the next two hours, and sent Y/N a set of golden chess with a note prepare to be destroyed.

Soon it was time to get dressed to go over to Lily and James’ for Christmas lunch, and they walked upstairs slowly, Sirius playing with Y/N’s hand.

Y/N pulled off her pyjamas, reaching for the dress she had set out for the day when Sirius wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his bare chest.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“I do, you like to inform me regularly,” Y/N smiled, leaning back into him.

“Well I just wanted to make sure you were aware.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Y/N twisted herself around in his arms so she could face him, looking up at his deep grey eyes, dark curls falling into his face as he met her gaze. He leaned down and kissed her forehead slowly, rubbing his hands along her back.

“I kind of wish we could spend all day just the two of us,” Sirius placed a hand by Y/N’s chin and rubbed his thumb against her cheek. Y/N leaned her face into him, closing her eyes and letting out a soft sigh.

“I think Lily would stab us.”

“Oh, she definitely would.” Sirius laughed and took a step back, his hands still on her waist. He gave her a sweeping look, sighing exaggeratedly before reaching behind and throwing Y/N’s dress at her.

“Put that on before I go insane,” Sirius shook his head, turning to get his clothes as well. Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop smiling whilst she put on her dress, getting Sirius to zip it up. He watched as she pulled up her tights, poking her tongue out at him as he groaned and clapped loudly.

“You’re a complete idiot.” Y/N gave Sirius a soft shove as she put on her boots and followed him out of the room.

“Well then you're an even bigger idiot for loving me.” Sirius shrugged, moving to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of floo powder. “You ready?”

Y/N nodded stepping into the fire behind him.

“The Potter Residence,” Sirius called loudly, throwing the floo powder down, a flash of green flame licking at their feet. As Y/N felt the sucking sensation as she was about to be sent across to another fireplace Sirius grabbed her hand and squeezed tight.

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[pitterpatterpot]

Lion’s Pride: Chapter Twenty-Five

Aedion breathes out a puff of breath, eyes squinting as he looks down at the braid in his hand, fine strands of red hair slipping between his fingers. He smiles in victory as he finishes off the final twining of hair, snapping a band into place with a flourish.

"Aedion," Evangeline tuts, "it's hair, not a battle."

The General of the Bane raises his brows, admiring the fishtail braid that now sits on the young girls shoulder. "It's a fine braid worthy of the same glory as any battle."

Evangeline snorts, still focusing on the braid in her own hands. "You're so silly sometimes."

"Oh no, gods forbid I make you smile."

Snorting with a small laugh, Evangeline finishes her braid with a tie. “You’re done, Jolene.”

The girl in front of Evangeline grins in delight, hopping off the edge of the fountain to join a group of children covering the ground in chalk. Aedion watches her go with a fond smile, standing himself and extending a hand to Evangeline. He pulls her up, laughing as he nearly lifts her off her feet, Evangeline immediately scowling yet laughing.  

“Why don’t you get braids?” Evangeline hums, narrowing her eyes at Aedion’s loose hair.

“Because you all always pull at it,” Aedion scowls, watching a ball fly between a group of kids. “Don’t look at me like that. You do.”

“Right,” Evangeline rolls her eyes, fingering the end of her braid. “I forgot how sensitive you are.”

“You know, it wasn’t that long ago I defeated a certain little thing called a valg prince.”

“It also wasn’t too long ago that you spent three days searching for Gavriel’s cat,” Evangeline raises a brow.

Aedion scowls playfully, tugging gently on her hair. “He was upset. And in case I forgot, you also searched under every bed in the palace.”

Giggling, Evangeline ducks away from his hands. “All right! So maybe I did.”

“We should just be thankful Lysandra and Aelin have gone for the weekend,” Aedion mutters, narrowing his eyes against the sun. “They would have had a field day searching.”

“Aelin would have put the whole staff on it.”

“And Lysandra would have spent all day in ghost leopard form sniffing around.”

They both smirk, a humorous glint in their eyes. It only grows when a ball rolls over to them, both their brows flicking up as a group of kids watch them. Aedion grins, as does Evangeline.

They both dive for the ball.

Evangeline cries in delight as the top of her boot manages to hit the ball the same time Aedion’s foot does, the object flying towards the children. The two of them run after it, and after a minute of shock the street quickly divides into teams of two. Evangeline grins as a child passes the ball to her, quickly ducking under Aedion’s arm to kick it between two boxes that have been set up as the goal. Aedion groans dramatically as the score lands, everyone laughing and clapping along as he circles around and hoists Evangeline up into his arms, the young woman screaming with laughter and pounding on his back.

“Aedion, you brute!” Evangeline cackles, face flushing. “Put me down!”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Aedion gasps, spinning, Evangeline thrown over his shoulder. “I’m too sensitive, remember? I need constant attention.”

A loud snorting laughter comes from Evangeline. “I’m sorry! Aedion, I’m going to be sick!”

“Sick, you say?” Aedion cackles, pausing in the spinning. “Well, isn’t that unfortunate.”

“I’ll tell Lysandra about this!” Evangeline tugs the end of his shirt, face turning red, a grin still in place.

Aedion hums, jumping in place. “And I’ll tell them all about that little prank you pulled.”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“Cold oatmeal in my socks!”

“You put black powder in my dresses!”

Barking a laugh, Aedion spins again, the surrounding children laughing. It became a common occurrence for the court to leave the castle and spend time with the children in the city square, dazzling them with magic and games. The entire ordeal had grown from the morning training sessions with young adults, Aedion quickly befriending the youth with his roguish ways and lack of strict etiquette. Aelin was quick to join, surprised to see that Gavriel had grown close to many of the parents who watch on as everyone plays.

There was a rough moment when Lysandra turned into a ghost leopard. Turns out that when you loose an uncle to a pack you become fearful that the same thing will happen to your child. Luckily, Aedion managed to wrestle the hunting spear away.

Now Lysandra only turns into less fearful creatures around the children. Much to their disappointment.

“Alright,” Evangeline huffs, voice thick. “Aedion, I need to be put down. I don’t feel well.”

He immediately slips her off his shoulder, Aedion frowning as he takes Evangeline in. At the flush on her face and sweat beading on her upper lip, a hand pressed against her lower stomach.

“Are you alright?” Aedion murmurs lowly. “You’re pale.”

“I just feel  a little ill,” Evangeline sucks in a slow breath.

“Let’s stop for a moment,” Aedion suggests gently. “We can… Evangeline, are you alright?”

A new shade of pale has overtaken the young adults face. “We need to go home, please.”

Aedion’s brows furrow, and he begins to ask. Then stops at the smell suddenly hitting his fae nose, his eyes widening in understanding. He gently takes her arm and moves her to the back of a public restroom, the area quiet compared to the buzz of the square.

“Aedion,” Evangeline looks around. “What are we-“

“Hold on,” Aedion stops behind a wall.

He shrugs off his jacket, dropping it to the floor before taking off his shirt. He rips off the left long sleeve in one fluid movement, handing the strip of fabric to Evangeline, her eyes wide.

“Aedion,” she hisses, eyes darting around. “What are you-“

“No one will notice with my jacket on,” Aedion murmurs, nodding to the bathroom. “You can use this until we get to the palace and find you something more suitable.”

Nodding, Evangeline ducks into the stall as Aedion steps away and places his shirt and jacket back on, taking a moment to hum at the strange feeling of one sleeve being missing. Breezy.

It’s also a nice distraction from the entire situation.

The stall door creaks open and Evangeline walks out, back straight. Aedion nods and they immediately set down the streets, going through the back alley ways to avoid the crowds and citizens that would no doubt love to stop and chat. They make it just over halfway before Evangeline stops, bending over and groaning. Aedion stops in alarm, looking to where she’s sat down, arms wrapped around her stomach and body curled over. He immediately sits beside her.

“Sit up, air will make you feel better,” Aedion suggests gently, pulling out a flask. “Here’s some water. If you straighten out it’ll help you to-“

“Aedion,” Evangeline grits out, taking the water. “How do you know so much about this?”

“I read a book.”

“A book?”

He shrugs. “I wanted to help. And Lysandra did some explaining.”

Evangeline stares, slowly turning bright red as she looks down at her feet.

“I love you,” Evangeline murmurs.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Aedion pulls her close, giving a squeeze. “Do you feel alright to walk? Or would you like a ride on my back?”

“Ride,” Evangeline immediately perks up, eyes sparking in interest. “Definitely.”

“I get the feeling that you’re taking advantage of the situation,” Aedion smiles in relief, turning around. “Come on. Order me around as you like.”

Laughing, Evangeline climbs on, cackling as Aedion breaks into an immediately jog.

~~~

“So, are you alright?” Aedion asks, handing Evangeline a cold glass of water.

“Yes, thank you,” Evangeline eagerly accepts the glass, sitting on the edge of the stool in the kitchen.

“The tea didn’t work?”

“The warmth just made the hot flush feel worse,” Evangeline glowers at the cup to the side. “It was a disappointment.”

“Of the highest degree.”

“The audacity was outstanding.”

“It shall never be served again.”

A lull takes over their bantering, the two stirring and looking into their respective drinks. The clock ticks in the corner, the only abruption to the comfortable silence between them.

“Aedion?” Evangeline sips her water.

“Yes?” Aedion looks up from the sink.

“Can I still play with you and the other children in the square? And train?”

Frowning, Aedion places his cup down. “Of course. Why?”

Shrugging, Evangeline taps the rim of her glass. “Everyone’s trying to teach my to be a lady. That seems to mean no rough activity.”

Aedion snorts. “Sweetheart, you have met the females of our family, yes? I’ve had my ass handed to me by them more than once.”

“I know,” Evangeline scowls, the look vicious instead of playful. “Other ladies in waiting and court children annoy me.”

Immediately, Aedion perks up, narrowing his eyes in anger. “How so?”

“They make fun of me for being covered in mud after training,” Evangeline scoffs, sipping her drink. “They think it’s strange that I play with animals and children outside the castle.”

“Is this when all the lords and ladies visited with their children last month?”

“Yes,” colour stains Evangeline’s cheeks, her eyes darting away. “…I threw mud on one of them.”

That causes a loud barking laugh, Aedion’s bellowing prompting Evangeline to laugh as well. They snicker to themselves, erupting again when they catch each other’s eye.

“Who did you hit?”

“The daughter of the lord of Suria. She said I acted like a boar in a dress.”

Aedion’s laughter cuts off, a growl taking place. It’s audacious, unbelievable on such an extreme level that anyone would be foolish enough to turn up their noses at the young woman sitting in front of him. It borders on insanity to think that they could even begin to get away with saying such a remark. And not because of the threat that Lysandra, Aedion and the rest of the court poses. Oh no.

They should very well fear Evangeline herself.

“What did you do?” Aedion asks, voice a rough growl.

At that a wicked smile takes place on Evangeline’s face. “We were in the gardens, so I went to the stables, grabbed a handful of sludge, stomped back and flung it so it hit her in the chest. She screeched like a banshee.”

Chuckling, Aedion knocks her shoulder. “That’s my girl. Listen to me, you’re allowed to be whatever you want to be. Biology is not the deciding factor of everything in life. If you want to keep training and get your ass kicked at ball games than you’re more than welcomed.”

That sparks something in her eyes, pride curdling in her stare. “Last I remembered, I kicked the winning goal in the last game.”

“Because that boy got in my way.”

“Because your defence was sloppy.”

So few people would ever dare say something like that to him. The love in his chest explodes.

“I promise things won’t change unless you will them to,” he promises, a tenderness weakening his form. “Although you may want to go to Lysandra about the… biological changes that…”

“Thank you, Aedion,” Evangeline’s voice cuts through his, as brisk as the flush on her cheeks. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

“Oh, thank the gods, because I really have no idea-“

“Alright-“

“-since war camps don’t really give an education on-“

“Oh my gods-“

“-I should actually read some books or ask Gavriel some questions, actually, I have a lot of gaps-“

“I’m going to bed!” Evangeline stands, chair scrapping back, glaring at Aedion’s smirk. “You are a horrible, horrible person.”

“Thank you, darling,” Aedion winks. “Do you want me to bring you anything? A warm bottle? Chocolate?”

At that she hesitates, eyeing him. “Chocolate would be nice.”

“I’ll bring it up with a concoction to help with the pain,” Aedion nods, smirk settling into a smile. “Let me know if there’s anything else.”

“I will,” Evangeline walks through the door, then pauses, angling her head back. “You know, since you’re having so much fun with all of this I think I should mention to Gavriel that you need a little talk.”

All colour drains from the males face, a particular look of horror settling over his features. “You wouldn’t, you sly little-“

“I learn from the best,” Evangeline cackles, the door slamming shut after her.

~~~

“Just to be clear,” Lysandra murmurs to Aedion before they enter the dining hall, “you didn’t tell Evangeline that she can now call on adrenaline based strength while bleeding, yes?”

“That was Aelin,” Aedion snorts. “Although with the anger that comes with it I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.”

“Ass,” Lysandra whacks his arm, smiling. “As if you’re anything but a sap.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Aedion opens the entry way for her, “it’d ruin my reputation.”

“I doubt anything could do that,” Lysandra laughs, wrapping an arm around Aedion’s as they walk to the table. “My brave warrior.”

“You are in a good mood today,” he beams, kissing her as he pulls out her chair.

Lysandra hums, cheeks nearly dimpling with how strong her smile is. “How can I not be?”

Smiling at her gleeful expression, Aedion takes a moment to brush his hand against her shoulder, letting his calloused thumb run over the smooth skin before snagging slightly on a scar, tenderly following the jagged line down the slope of her shoulder as he sits. The look she sends him, filled with nothing but undeniable warmth, makes something deep settle within him. Being here, next to her, at the table with his loved ones is like some kind of balm to an inner injury he never knew he had. Some beast that is finally settled down to sleep.

“I love you,” he murmurs it, softly, his head tilted towards hers.

Those green eyes darken, and she whispers it back.

He melts. There’s no way to avoid it, the way he crumbled at her feet. It’s impossible for him to withstand her, not that he ever would. He finally turns back to the food, a small smile remaining as he begins to devour his meal. He ignores the gentle looks the rest of the court send their way,

“Gavriel,” something humorous enters Lysandra’s tone, sending a warning through Aedion’s system, “wasn’t there something you wanted to discuss with Aedion?”

His father’s brows raise, and he turns to look at his son. “Evangeline did mention something about a certain topic needing more details.”

Aedion’s eyes cut to the side and Lysandra’s wicked smile says it all.

The traitors.

~~~

“Just so we’re clear,” Gavriel eyes his son as they leave the dining hall, entering one of the many hallways, “you don’t need me to-“

“No.”

“So you know-“

“Yes.”

“Even about diseases and-“

“Yes!” Aedion hisses, a rare flush of colour taking over his face. “Gods, yes. You know, I was fairly sure Evangeline was bluffing.”

And there it is, a traitorous smile spreading across Gavriel’s face. “She thought you’d think that.”

Scoffing, Aedion jerks back. “You all have a terrible sense of humour. Just terrible.”

“I found it amusing,” Gavriel chuckles.

“You’re all twisted,” Aedion shakes his head. “Where are you heading?”

“I was hoping to talk to you, actually,” Gavriel concedes. “I was hoping to learn more about your childhood here in the palace. The good memories.”

Aedion blinks. “The good memories? I - alright. Why?”

Gavriel shrugs. “In truth, every time I imagine you as a child I see you as sad. I would like to be able to know that there were some light moments.”

“When Aelin was born I was extremely happy,” Aedion admits, the two of them beginning to walk towards the stables. “I enjoyed watching over her. More often then not I’d join her for make-shift tea parties and dinners.”

“Because the others were afraid of her,” Gavriel guesses.

“Both of us, actually,” Aedion snorts. “Like I’ve told you, my reputation for fighting with Ren gained me a ferocious title.”

Gavriel’s brows shoot up, a smile blooming. “Oh, I’m sure you were terrifying. I even heard you used to have freckles before they faded. How devious.”

A bright flush creeps up over Aedion’s face, the younger male glaring. “Who told you? And by the way, sarcasm isn’t a good look on you.”

“I disagree,” Gavriel chuckles. “And Aelin told me. I’m not surprised though, I used to have a light freckling when I was younger. You must have gained it from me.”

“Of course,” Aedion mutters, staring skywards for a moment. “Are you happy now? I was freckled and played with my cousin.”

“While that is an adorable image,” Gavriel says, amused at Aedion’s horror at the word, “I was actually asking for earlier memories. After all, what did you do when Aelin was a baby and unable to play? When you were very young?”

At that Aedion pauses, mind drawing a complete blank. Before he could play with Aelin? He’s already told Gavriel about how he and Ren used to be close as children, but that came later. Does he want to know about training? He’s already gained details of that. And Aelin has surely told him more than Aedion is likely comfortable with. But when Aedion first came to Terrasen? There was so much confusion. He had to learn names and go from being a child with his mother to a ward in training. There has to be something. Of course, trying to remember that far back through so many harsh memories is difficult. By the time they arrive at the stables, Gavriel patiently stroking a horse, Aedion is still at a loss as his father strokes the giant beasts.

Giant beasts.

Giant.

“I used to be afraid of horses.”

Aedion sucks in a breath after his rushed words, seemingly just as surprised by them as Gavriel is. His father looks at him in surprise and amusement, his expression morphing into one of concentration as he listens. Aedion clears his throat, the memory slowly seeping forward.

“When I first arrived,” Aedion begins slowly, piecing it together, “I was headstrong and stubborn - don’t give me that look - out of fear, I think. I wanted to prove I could be strong since everyone was talking about how I was to be a warrior. I tackled everything they gave me. Then…”

“Then?” Gavriel prompts.

“I had never seen a horse before,” Aedion realises slowly. “At least none as big as they have here in Terrasen. They look wilder and rougher. And I was, well, I was small.”

“You were five,” Gavriel’s smiles, “I’m sure you were very small.”

“Right,” Aedion winces. “So when the horse riding lessons came along I… Well, I think I yelled ‘no’ and ran away.”

A laugh bursts out of Gavriel, loud and guffawing before the Lion claps a hand over his mouth, turning it into a cough. “You ran?”

“And hid,” Aedion nods. “I remember now. I crawled into a small cupboard they couldn’t reach me in, yelling that I wouldn’t go near them. It took days for them to convince me to go near them.”

Shaking his head, Gavriel keeps a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

“Is it really that amusing?” Aedion huffs, picking up a horse brush himself.

“It’s the image,” Gavriel sucks in a slow breath, “of a younger, smaller you just yelling ‘no’ at grown warriors over horses and running away.”

“I think I kicked Quinn in the chest when he tried to place me on one,” Aedion admits, rhythmically brushing the horse closest to him. “At least I think I did all that. It’s difficult to remember that far back.”

Chuckling, Gavriel picks up a brush himself. “It certainly sounds in character.”

“I’d make some smart comeback about you as a child,” Aedion snorts, “but no doubt you were perfect.”

“There may be some doubts about that,” Gavriel clears his throat. “In fact, when I was only a decade old I… My brothers convinced me to sneak out during the night with them.”

Aedion stares. “You did? You escaped the house at night?”

“I did,” Gavriel nods, huffing a small laugh. “It was the only time though. I was bored with how quickly distracted they were, their attention drawn away from me. I never really had any reason to rebel or kick up a fuss.”

“Oh, of course,” Aedion sighs. “The great Gavriel, above such childish squabbles. If only your offspring had followed suit.”

“I have no regrets with your stubborn nature, Aedion,” Gavriel wryly responds. “If anything, your determination is a key reason for your success. And I can hardly blame you for having your mother’s spirit.”

“It got me in plenty of trouble early on, don’t worry,” Aedion smirks. “By the way, why the stables?”

“Pardon?” Gavriel tilts his head.

“The stables. Why are we here?”

“I was simply following you,” Gavriel gestures to the area around them. “Weren’t we coming here for your story?”

“No, I thought I was following you,” Aedion confesses. “Not that I’m complaining. Darrow wants to meet with me today and I’d much rather be here right now than with that bastard.”

“At least he’s kind to Evangeline,” Gavriel sighs. “If I’m being honest it’s the only redeeming quality I can find about the man.”

“You are quite cold towards him,” Aedion admits. “I take great pleasure in watching it.”

“Could I join you in the meeting then?” Gavriel asks, placing down his brush. “I need to have a few words with the man myself anyway.”

“When you put it like that, yes,” Aedion grins. “You most definitely can.”

~~~

Aedion sits leisurely in the seat at Darrow’s desk, legs stretched out in front of him as he leans back. Gavriel stands by the doorway with his arms crossed, watching the entire interaction. Darrow, for his part, sits at the desk with his hands clasped in front of him, a twitching muscle in his cheek the only sign of his irritation.

None of them have said a word, each waiting for the other to initiate the conversation. Darrow appears to be near wits end, eyes darting between the two of them as he waits to be addressed.

And Aedion is, quite frankly, enjoying this.

Giving in, Darrow coughs into his fist. “I need to discuss your behaviour in the city.”

Aedion’s eyes narrow. “My behaviour?”

“In terms of your relations with the children,” Darrow nods. “It’s inappropriate for a prince and general of your standing to spend so much time playing games with the offspring of strangers. Not only that, but the fact that you encourage Evangeline to do the same.”

Iron carves into Aedion’s spine, his entire form rising in the chair. “Be very careful with what you say next, Darrow. It does Evangeline no harm to have friends near her own age.”

“I don’t disagree!” Darrow huffs. “I think it’s wonderful that she’s gaining connections with the people. Believe it or not, but I have no wish to see her miserable and alone. She’s delighted after the games in the square.”

“In that case, what is this entire conversation even about?” Aedion growls.

Shame seems to flicker over Darrow’s features before they harden once again. “It’s not Evangeline who they deem inappropriate to spend time with the children, Aedion.”

Something in his core freezes. Stiffens and curdles at the low temperatures that enter is stomach. He stares at Darrow, the man staring back, something akin to shame flickering in his eyes.

“Inappropriate?” Aedion’s voice sounds rough even to his own ears. “What do they think I’m going to do?”

“They believe you could be a… negative influence,” Darrow clears his throat. “Considering your history and reputation.”

“Reputation,” Aedion repeats.

“Not to mention your choice in relationships,” Darrow shuffles his papers.

“Relationships?” A white ocean of noise enters his ears.

“Aedion, I have no judgement on the matter,” Darrow looks away. “At least, not on that topic. While I do think it’s inappropriate for you to spend time in the square with children I see it based on your romantic orientation. Unfortunately, some parents do. Your past titles and actions as the ‘Whore of Adarlan’ don’t exactly help soothe their worries.”

And there is the anger, boiling, starting in the pit of his being and clawing its way up his throat. His hands curl into fists, Aedion leaning forward, every muscle in his body growing tense. Then confusion slowly takes place. Because while Darrow has grown pale, the colour leeching from his face as his scent screams terror, he isn’t looking at Aedion.

No, he’s looking over Aedion’s shoulder.

So, slowly, the Wolf of the North turn to look as well.

And his anger is swept away by…

Fear? No, it’s something more deep rooted than that. Those tawny gold eyes are dark, closer to the colour of bronze set on fire. And the very shape of his face, the way his lips are raised to show a flash of sharp teeth, suggests the brink of a shift into lion form. And all of that is directed towards Darrow.

“Aedion,” Gavriel’s voice sets a deeper tone, reverberating through the entire room, “leave the room.”

It’s a direct order, a room brooking no space for argument. Just like Gavriel had used when he found Aedion by the gate. But then Aedion had denied the order, snapping back at the demand of the Lion. He feels the sudden urge to do so now, the denial already leaving his lips in the form of a growl. Darrow’s eyes flick between them, the man pressing back in his seat as Aedion stares at his father.

“Like hell I am,” Aedion snarls, beginning to rise out of his chair. “I train those children! I protect them! If people are so fucking worried about me being a bad influence on them than they-“

“Aedion.”

The demi-fae pauses at the tone.

“Leave the room,” Gavriel repeats, slaking towards the desk. “I also had a meeting concerning a private matter.”

Aedion stares. Gavriel doesn’t look, eyes trained on Darrow. Slowly, Aedion stands. He can feel both males waiting for his actions. He walks towards the door, Darrow’s clear disbelief like a brand on his back. He clicks it shut behind him and leaves the hall.

~~~

Fenrys frowns from where he stands over papers with Rowan, looking towards the window. “Did you hear something?”

The king glances up. “No, I…”

“There, see?” Fenrys waves a hand. “It sounds like Gavriel.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

~~~

“Darrow needs a new desk,” Gavriel dresses Aelin, standing in front of her work table.

She looks up in surprise, confusion flowing over. “Why?”

“I broke his.”

A silence stretches out. Aelin raises a brow.

“As in… you broke off a leg of the table and stabbed him with it?”

Startled, Gavriel jerks back. Gods, no! I’m not Rowan.”

Snickering, Aelin nods. “Alright then. So what happened?”

“I yelled at him and in the throes of my anger punched the table, causing it to split.”

“Let me get this straight,” Aelin breathes in deeply. “You were mad, punched a table and that one hit caused it to break in half?”

“Yes. I apologise for any inconvenience I am causing you,” Gavriel bows his head.

He hears her mumble under her breath, something along the lines of ‘holy gods’ and ‘males.’ She quickly scribbles down the need for a new table on a piece of paper, shaking her head as she does so.

“What exactly did he do?” Aelin asks. “Darrow, I mean.”

“He said Aedion wasn’t allowed to play with children in the city square because of his so-called reputation,” Gavriel scowls, the look foreign and unusual on his usually even face.

Narrowing her own eyes, Aelin places her papers down. “What did Aedion say?”

“I asked him to leave the room before I lost my temper with Darrow,” Gavriel informs the queen.

Aelin pauses, disbelief clear. “He listened to you? You told him to do something and he did it?”

“I don’t know how it happened either, don’t ask me to do it again,” Gavriel sighs. “I’m going to find him so we can talk. Pardon, my queen.”

“So formal,” Aelin grins, shaking her head. “I’ll see about getting Darrow a new table when able.”

“Please don’t draw it out too long,” Gavriel sighs. “He’ll just complain.”

“He can last a week or two,” Aelin sits back, shrugging. “Besides, finding the right table can take time.”

Gavriel sends her a dry look. “Of course.”

~~~

“You broke it?” Aedion stares at Gavriel.

The male frowns back, pausing in eating his own dinner. “Why does everyone repeat that question?”

“It’s just a little hard to comprehend,” Aedion sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “And I didn’t need you to do that. Those parents have a right to voice their concerns when it comes to their children.”

“That must refer to me as well, then,” Gavriel raises his brows. “I am sorry however that I diminished you by ordering you out of the room.”

“You didn’t order. You asked,” Aedion very nearly glares. “I simply conceded to a request.”

“Of course.”

Aedion glares.

“And just so we’re clear,” Gavriel lowers his voice once more, “after everything you have done and sacrificed for these people it is only fair that you are given the same freedom that any male on the street is offered. Your reputation, which you gained for their sakes, should not be held against you.”

A glimmer of amusement enters Aedion’s eyes. “I know. But thank you, it’s nice to have it acknowledged by you.”

Gavriel tips his head in a nod.

“Just so you, though, Evangeline has already talked to Darrow.”

Gavriel perks up at that, spinning to look at his son. “Oh?”

“She did,” Aedion nods. “I think it’s fair to say that no one will be making any more comments. She can be… fierce.”

They both grin.