#I would say give Hudson a listener too but we all know Hudson x Jack is cannon

[hammerhead-jpg]

Erik: haha a recurring pizza delivery guy character!!! And his name is Guy because he's the pizza Guy!! Isn't that funny-

Redacted nation: FUCCKKKKK!!!!! LET ME FUCK HIM!!!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!!!! SEX!!!!!

[niksixx]

Patience

~Part 2. Please read part 1 first~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader 

A/N: Keep up those comments. It motivates me! 

*Picture is not mine; Found on Google. Creds to the owner*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @ginny-baker-sixx @metalheartofgold @madamsixx @curly-hudson @headlight-queen @julessworldd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At twenty-seven years old, you had finally managed to piece your life together. Although your small business was just beginning and wasn’t generating as much money as you would have liked, you were happy.

Baking was a hobby that you turned into a full time job. While the process could be long, you never found it tedious. Every measurement, every smell, every pastry decoration and design, was satisfying. And by the reviews from your customers, they were impressed by your craft. They say if you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.

Just as you check the clock on the wall above the shop door, a loud growl sounds from your lower belly. Glancing down at your stomach, you shake your head and chuckle, grabbing your wallet and keys to lock up the store. It is a slow day, and usually you bring lunch to work, but closing the shop for an hour won’t hurt. You’d only had four customers since opening at nine.

As you walk down the strip, you glance at all the different shops that once started out at the bottom, smiling as hope fills your heart. Plenty of the stores started out as tiny businesses, now flourishing. There was never a doubt in your mind that your store, your pride and joy, would succeed.

The smell of pork fried rice hits your nostrils as you push open the doors to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Behind the counter you spot Lei, one of the first friends to welcome you to LA years ago.

Lei’s eyebrows crinkle. “I thought you were working today! How are you?”

“Well for one, I’m starving,” you say, patting your stomach. “And two, I am. I closed up for an hour just so I could come and see you!”

Lei rolls her eyes as she punches buttons on the register, already ringing up your order from memory. “Papa! I need an order of sweet and sour pork over white rice and a spring roll to go, please. You know what? Make that two spring rolls, it’s for Y/N!” Lei shouts, turning back with a sneaky grin. “Free of charge just because I love you.”

Tipping generously, you sit by a table and wait for your order. Lei’s family owns the restaurant, one of the most well known on the Strip. You frequent her business as she did with yours, always making sure to buy a slice of red velvet cake each week. A day ago, she’d put in an order for fifty cupcakes for her son’s ninth birthday party that weekend, which reminded you to check the cabinets at your home for all the proper ingredients.

A vibration rumbles in your purse and you retrieve your phone, holding it to your ear. You weren’t expecting a call.

“Hello?”

“I need another bottle of Jack.”

The sound of your boyfriend’s slurred voice had you frowning. On the other end of the line, Vince Neil sits in the recording studio, half empty bottle of whiskey in his lap while Tommy Lee aimlessly toys around with his drum set, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Hi, babe. Are you still in the studio?” Lei makes a gesture with a take out bag, and you give her a nod, rising to your feet while cradling the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Yeah, Doc gave us a ten minute break so I figured I’d call you. Did you hear me? I need another bottle of Jack. I’m almost done with the one I took this morning.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, forehead creasing. The man was building up his tolerance day by day, slowly but surely killing his liver. “Vince, that was a brand new bottle. I just bought that yesterday.”

“And it’s almost finished,” Vince remarks, rolling his eyes. “Just pick up another bottle on your way home.”

“Vin, you need to watch,” You warn, shaking your head. The last thing you needed was your boyfriend spiraling out of control like his heroin addicted bandmate, Nikki Sixx.

“I’m fine, stop worrying. I don’t need you pissing me off before I get back in the studio,” he spits back. “Just get the bottle.”

Sighing, you mouth a thank you to Lei before heading toward the door. “You know, the word please goes a long way--.”

The phone crashes against the tile floor as you collide with the door, or something that feels just as hard. Blinking to clear the stars from your eyes, your breath hitches in the back of your throat, lips going dry. Long, shiny red hair is the first thing that catches your eyes, followed by a pair of thin pink lips that look downright sinful, and soft gray eyes that hold a familiar warmth in them. The figure stares back at you, equally as stunned, unflinching as his hand holds open the door.

When you find your voice, it’s weak, just like your knees. “Axl?”

“Hey sugar,” his mouth quirks, and you blink again, positive that you’re hallucinating. There’s no way your old best friend is staring at you right now. It can’t be real. “Long time no see, huh? I see you’re still clumsy as ever.”

A hand covers your mouth and for a split second, you’re overwhelmed with the urge to cry. It doesn’t stay, and is soon replaced by sheer amazement. “Oh my God!” You throw yourself into his arms, almost knocking him off balance. Axl beams, catching you in his embrace, squeezing you against his chest. “I thought I was dreaming!”

His laugh is light and airy as he sets you on the ground, readjusting the bandana that keeps his hair off his face. “How have you been?”

Any feelings of irritation brought on by the lack of customers in your store and your pushy, intoxicated boyfriend fly right out the window. “Well, I was having a pretty crappy day, but I think you just made it ten times better,” you say, shaking your head in astonishment, bending down to retrieve your phone. Vince yells on the other line, but you quickly hang up before stuffing it back in your purse.

You give him another look, and his smile captures your breath, holding it hostage. It’s him. It’s really him. “My gosh, look at you. You are definitely not an eighteen year old boy anymore, Axl Rose.”

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he’d become. He was taller now, and had thinned out. Pale skin was littered in tattoos, giving him the edge he lacked in high school, from what you can remember. A face that was once hard and rigid, now gentle, just like his eyes.

“I’d hope not,” he says lightly, cocking his head to the side. His eyes trail over your body, slowly. “Twenty five has been good to me, and it appears twenty-seven has been kind to you.”

“I’ll say,” you breathe, drawn to his playful grin. The boy that never liked to show his teeth turned into a man that couldn’t stop smiling. “Are you stopping in for lunch?”

“I am,” he nods, noticing your take out bag. “Do you want to have lunch together? Are you busy?”

You shake your head quickly, eager to spend time with an old friend. “Nope! Slow day at work today, unfortunately. And besides, I’ll never be too busy to have lunch with you.”

~~~

A huge smile spreads across Axl’s face when you unlock the door to your bakery shop. The colors, the decorations, were all so inviting. Before bumping into you, he’d always pondered about what you were doing with your life. You’d turned yourself into a business owner, and as Axl glanced around the store, he felt a sense of pride wash over his bones. The woman he loved continued to amaze him.

“This is incredible, Y/N,” he says, nodding in approval, dragging his fingers over a metal chair situated at a circular pastel purple table. “So, how long did it take your indecisive ass to figure out what you wanted to do with your life?” He teases, fake pouting when you push his shoulder. After all these years, you were still so comfortable around each other. Maybe it would be easy to win your heart after all.

“Hey, I wanted to make sure that whatever I planned on doing for the rest of my life would make me happy,” you argue, setting your food down on the counter. Axl stands on the other side of the counter, aimlessly toying with his chopsticks.

“Are you?” He questions in a serious tone, waiting for your answer.

“Always,” you reply with a smile.

It doesn’t reach your eyes.

And Axl notices.

~~~

Hours pass by, with only a few customers straggling in and out of your shop. You’d only sold a few pastries, but you plastered on a smile to hide the pit of devastation that had formed in your heart. It’s five-thirty, and you’ll give it another half hour before you lock it up, hoping someone else would notice your shop and drop by.

“So, Guns N’ Roses, huh?” After spending hours discussing your new life in California, the conversation turns to Axl. You want to know everything about him, everything you’ve missed the last seven years. Everything you couldn’t be a part of.

He nods, taking a sip from his water bottle. “I still can’t believe we made it.”

“There’s five of you, right?”

He nods again. “Yes ma’am. I’d like you to meet them sometime when you’re not busy. They’d love you. Especially Steven, probably a little too much,” he winks, keeping the atmosphere light. “I’ll tell him to keep the flirting minimal, only because that’s my job.”

Cheeks warm, you gather your trash and head to the bin in the front of the store, avoiding Axl’s lingering gaze. He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know. No one did. “I’d love to, but that’s probably not the best idea.”

“How come?”

Biting your lip, you lean your elbows on the glass counter, clasping your fingers together. “My um...my boyfriend...he’s not a big Guns N’ Roses fan. He won’t even let me listen to your music. Probably would kill me if I ever did.”

Axl’s heart sinks. Let you? What the fuck? “Who’s your boyfriend?”

It’s not the answer he wants to hear. In fact, Axl’s face hardens when the name comes out of your mouth. “Vince Neil. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” you say with a wave of your hand. You weren’t in the mood to talk about your boyfriend, especially to your male best friend. Men didn’t like to talk about other men.

“Time out,” Axl says in annoyance. You want him to drop the conversation, but he presses on. “You’re dating Vince? You had your choice out of all those Mötley Crüe bastards, and you went with Vince? How--How did I not know about this?”

You shrug, biting the corner of your mouth. Cat’s out of the bag, might as well keep going. “No one does. I stay out of the spotlight. Vince has an image to keep up, you know? The player. The bad boy. It’s entertaining. A girlfriend ruins that. You’d think the label would want to contain him, but quite the opposite, actually.”

The floor sways beneath his feet as the words process in his head. If Axl knew anything about the pompous blonde asshole, then he knew you weren’t being treated right. “How long have you been together?”

You contemplate telling the truth, but if you didn’t, he’d pull it out of you. Sighing, you lean your forehead against your hands, mumbling, “Three years.”

His legs almost give out. Three years of hiding. Three years of pretending. Three years of wasted fucking time with a man that didn’t deserve you. Three years with his competition, his enemy.

“I knew you were in a band, Axl. Although I haven’t listened to any of your songs, I’ve heard your name on the radio, seen you at award ceremonies when I watched from home. And I...I wanted to reach out. I just didn’t know where to find you. Vince doesn’t even know that you and I grew up together. I’m too scared to tell him. It would just give him another reason to hate you.”

“And you don’t think you deserve better than that?” Axl asks, mouth twisting in anger. “Because I know you do.”

“Well…”

The door to the shop slams against the wall, and in stumbles a visibly inebriated Vince Neil. His blonde hair is stringy, matted against the side of his head, and the stench of alcohol fills your nostrils, lingering on his spiked leather vest. An empty bottle of Jack Daniels occupies one hand, while the keys to his car dangle in the other.

Eyes blazing, you step out from behind the counter. “Vince, what the hell? You drove here? Drunk?!” The evidence was in his hands, but you refused to believe your boyfriend could have done something so wild, so reckless.

“You...y-you didn’t come home with the...with the booze,” he slurs, throwing the empty  bottle in the trash bin. He trips forward, reaching out to steady himself on the purple table. “I was scared something ha-happened.”

“Something did happen, Vince! You could’ve killed someone!” You scream, tears blurring your vision as you fight back the urge to shake some sense into his body. How could he have been so careless? So selfish? “You could have fucking died!”

“Don’t raise your fucking voice--,” And Vince’s eyes go black when he sees Axl standing behind you, stonefaced, hands shoved in pockets. He doesn’t know why the redhead is here, with his girlfriend, but he doesn’t like it. “Rose.”

“Neil.”

Vince straightens, puffing out his chest.  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Free country,” Axl retorts, eyes flickering to your face. The tears from your eyes are sliding down your cheeks. Even if he wants to bash Vince’s perfectly symmetrical face in, he holds back, not wanting to scare you. “And I was just leaving.”

“Axl, wait, no you don’t have to go.” You plead, grasping his wrist, voice thick with emotion. You didn’t want him to leave, not after you’d just gotten him back again.

“Yes, he does,” Vince says, more sober than he was a minute ago. Loosening his grip on the table, he toddles over, prying your hand from Axl’s wrist. Axl’s teeth clench, and his fists ball together in an attempt to keep the anger at bay.

“You’ll be going now,” Vince glares. “That’s not a request, either. I’m taking a piss, and by the time I come out, you’d better be gone.” He stalks off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

In a panic, you snatch a sharpie from the pencil holder on the counter, uncapping it with your mouth, before grabbing Axl’s wrist, scribbling digits quickly but legibly.

“What are you doing?” His voice is a hushed whisper as he tries to decipher the numbers.

“My phone number, my address.” you answer back, signaling to each one. Grabbing a piece of paper from your notepad, you quickly scrawl out Axl’s phone number and apartment address, stuffing it into your purse. He nods before pulling you in for a hug. “I want to see you again, Axl. It’s been too long.”

And he would see you again. There was no way, no way, that Axl would let anything come between you.

[samthemarvelfan]

Hard Day’s Night: One Shot

Summary: CEO!Bucky is a dick. He takes out his frustration on the one person he shouldn’t have. Honestly? The dude just needs to get laid.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, feat: Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Angst, Smut!

A/N: This is just a small idea that hit me outta no where! I hope you enjoy! 18+ please!

Taglist: @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @disaffectedbarnes​ (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

Your heels echoed through the halls of the empty lobby. A sound you’ve come to enjoy, because it meant you can enjoy your morning in peace.

It was calm—serene, even. The best part of getting here a full hour before your co-workers; having your coffee in peace and watch the sun come up over the Hudson.

You’d ditched the heels the second you got to your floor, no way you’d suffer in those things and not have anyone around to see you in them.

The ‘refreshment room’, as you’d been instructed to call it, was always fully stocked with snacks, essentials, and coffee. You hummed to yourself, deciding on an iced vanilla latte. Being sure to stir it carefully, not wanting to splash it on your white top.

You were about to take that first delightful sip, when you heard someone walk in behind you.

“Would you look at that, just the person I wanted to see.” The voice called from behind you.

You have got to be shitting me. You grumbled internally.

Clearing your throat, you turn around, plastering on the fakest work smile you could.

“Mr. Barnes, I didn’t expect to see you so early.” You greet, smoothing our your black pencil skirt.

James Barnes was the foremost author of the decade. 12 Novels, a TV series, and a screenplay—I guess the guy liked to keep busy.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He said curtly, gesturing to you stocking-clad feet.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks with embarrassment. “Oh. I’m sorry, Sir. I’m just usually alone this early and I thought—“

“You thought you’d treat my office like it’s your home?” He quipped.

You shook your head quickly, “No, no I was only—“

“Forget it. Listen, these sales reports? They’re horrendous. Who taught you how to summarize an account?” He was already in a mood...and it wasn’t even 7:30.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to control your temper. “To be fair, I’m not an account executive. I was filling in for Sam, and you asked me to do them.”

He scoffed, “Oh I see, it my fault you’re incompetent.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Incompetent? I do every assignment you ask of me, most of which are above my pay grade. I do them to the best of my ability, and when something isn’t up to the ‘Barnes Standard’, I’m chewed out for it. Regardless if I’m even trained in the job or not.”

He threw the file on the table next to you, before gripping the back of a chair, leaning forward on it.

“Is that how you see things? Tell me then, Miss Monroe, what would you like? Me to hold your hand through every aspect of your job? Or maybe just do your job for you.” He said sarcastically.

That’s. It.

“How about you learn how to treat your employees! Maybe then you wouldn’t go through so many! How many secretaries have you been through this year alone, hm? ‘Cause I’ve met at least 6.”

You couldn’t stop the word vomit. James Barnes was an awful boss. He was crass and arrogant, and looked down on everyone.

But he pays well. You thought to yourself.

After watching you for a moment, Mr. Barnes suddenly stood straight up, grabbing the file from the table top.

“You can go home. Your skills aren’t needed today.” He spat.

A pit opened in your stomach. Did you just get fired? For speaking your mind?

Time to grovel.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. I can—“

“You can go home.” He said, turning his back and leaving you.

Your legs felt like they were going to give out on you. You had one of the most respected authors as a boss, a job most people would kill for, and you couldn’t just keep your mouth shut.

“Fuck.” You whispered with tears in your eyes.

You didn’t even grab your drink. You just picked up your heels and your bag, and did the proverbial walk of shame to the elevators.

“Just put a fucking dress on and come out.” Wanda shouted through your phone’s speakers.

“Wanda, I’m not in the mood! For all I know I was just fired from a very well paying job. All because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.” You groaned, flopping backward on your bed.

She sighed, “Even if you were, who cares? Do you really want to keep working for that asshole?”

She was right. Was money really worth getting verbally accosted everyday?

“Fine. I’ll get dressed, but I reserve the right to wallow if I get an email telling me I’ve been canned.” You bargain.

Wanda laughed, “Deal! Now go get ready. Wear a dress. The navy one!”

You pressed end, and stood from your bed.

That navy dress Wanda mention was a showstopper, but was it really pub appropriate?

Velvet, long sleeves, a deep v neck to accentuate your curves. Pair it with black heeled booties and you felt unstoppable.

Hair curled, burgundy lips, and the right perfume. You made a mental note to thank Wanda for pulling you out of your funk.

“Two more, please!” Wanda shouted at the very attractive bar tender.

The pub was full of people and the music was blasting through the retro jukebox perched against the wall.

“Thank you for making me do this.” You say to her.

She smiled, “I know you, don’t I? I know when you need a push in the right direction.”

The bartender returned with your shots of tequila, and you all too quickly downed them.

“I’m a good fucking employee.” You slur, feeling the effects of your 3 previous shots.

She nods, “I know! I mean, I don’t know...but I bet you are! He’s crazy, to not see that.”

You were about to reply, when you see a man looking at Wanda. His eyes flitting between her and smiling shyly at his drink.

“I’m going to go down to the other end of the bar, and I’m gonna order a beer. It’s probably gonna take a loooong time.” You say dramatically.

“What?” She asks confused.

You nod your head behind you. “He’s cute. And he definitely thinks your cute. Don’t worry, I’m only a dozen bar stools away.” You wink, stumbling off the stool you’re currently perched on.

The other end of the bar is further than you thought, but thankfully, there was one seat left open.

“Can I sit here?” You ask the person beside it.

They paid you no mind, “Go ahead.” He grumbled.

You glanced at the bartender, “Beer. Bottle, not a glass, please.”

The person next to you scoffed.

“Something funny?” You ask.

He laughed again, genuinely. “That’s my order too.” He replied without looking at you.

You stare a bit longer than would be soberly required. When his featured start to seem familiar. You quickly turn back to face the bar.

Not here. He can’t be here.

“I was wondering when you’d recognize me.” Mr. Barnes said causally.

Your heart pounded in your chest. Of all the fucking bars in Manhattan, he chooses this one?

“Sorry, I’ve just never seen you outside of work. How long have you been here?” You asked, praying he’d only just arrived.

He sipped his beer, “Oh I think I arrived around shot number two.” He smiled.

James Barnes smiled.

“You saw that, huh?” You ask, feeling the blood rush to your cheeks.

He nodded, fiddling with his bottle.

“Figured your day musta been pretty rough when I saw number four.” His voice was somber, almost ashamed.

“Mr. Barnes, I—“

“Bucky. Please, we’re not in the office.” He said, finishing the last of his beer.

You smiled shyly. “Speaking of...” you sipped at your drink, “Am I...did you...was I—“

“Fired?” He asked.

You nod.

Bucky -gosh that’s weird to say- laughed, “No. I just wanted you to stew in fear for a little bit.”

Typical James Buchanan Barnes. “That’s kind of you.” You seethe.

He put a hand on your back. “Relax. I realized I was being an asshole about 3 minutes after those elevator doors closed, and I knew you wouldn’t answer if I called.”

He raised a hand in the bartender’s direction, and in seconds had another beer. “I know I’m...difficult at best. That’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s hand slid from your shoulder back to the beer in front of him.

You nod at his sentiment, “Thank you for saying that. I’d thought I’d get an email telling me to pick up my things.” A nervous laugh escaped you.

He shook his head, “God, no. I don’t think that office could run without you. Logistical Liaison is a made up position, but I invented it for a reason. I need someone who knows how to run things when I lose control.”

Bucky tipped the bottle towards you, “and that’s you, Ella.” He hesitated, “Can I call you that?”

You giggle, and nod. “Like you said, we’re out of the office.”

A silence fell between the two of you. It was comfortable. Surprisingly comfortable.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Bucky suddenly spoke. It was a hushed tone, meant only for you.

“Oh yeah?” You replied.

He nodded, “I wanted to say that a lot earlier, but then it would look like all I was doing was hitting on my employee.”

“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” You quipped.

Was he flirting? Were you flirting?

His eyebrows raised in agreement as he nursed his beer. “No we would not.”

The two of you had 3 more drinks between you; a beer and jack and coke for Mr—Bucky, and a Jameson on the rocks for you.

Now you stood on the brisk Manhattan streets, waiting for a cab.

“I gotta say Ella, you’re so different. You’re much different than I’d thought you’d be.” He said, clearly feeling the effects of the booze.

You surprisingly weren’t as drunk as you’d usually be at this point. Perks of eating pizza before going out.

“You’ve thought about me, huh?” You ask slyly.

Bucky’s cheeks redden. “I might have. You're so kind. You’re kind to everyone at that godforsaken office. You help anyone who needs it and you’re always professional, no matter the circumstances. You’re a good person. I know you are.” He thumb swipes tenderly over your cheek.

Now it was your turn to be timid. “And you, Mr. Barnes, have a way with words.” You smile, playfully slapping your clutch against his shoulder.

Bucky flagged a taxi down, “Come on, share my cab. I don’t want you going home alone like this.” He offers.

You nod, agreeing you’re probably not in the best shape to be alone in a cab at damn near midnight.

After giving the cab driver your address, you relax, leaning against Bucky’s shoulder.

“This was fun. I’m glad I ran into you.” He said lowly.

You glance up at him, “I never thought I’d say this, but me too. I had fun, and bonus, I’m not fired!” You jest, and share a laugh.

A short while later, the cab pulled up in front of your brownstone, and Bucky helps you out.

“Well, this is me.” You say, sadness coating your words.

Bucky nods, “I’m kinda bummed. I don’t want this to end.”

You let out a small breath.

Now or never, Ella. You think to yourself.

“It doesn’t have too.” You say boldly.

He looks at you, a new glimmer in his eye, before waving the cab on, sending the driver away.

“Guess I’m not always professional after all.” You say, shyness making its way back into you voice.

He put his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the steps to your front door. “I think I can make an exception for tonight.”

You pushed the door open. “Just tonight?” You ask.

Bucky looks at you, slipping his hand around your waist. “That’s up to you, Doll.”

Your back pressed against the front door. His nose nuzzled yours. “Are we doing this? Cause I’ll be honest, If we do what I think were gonna do, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

His warm lips moved to you neck, leaving bites and wet kisses up to your jaw.

“James.” You breathe.

This seems to work him up. His mouth moves to yours, soft at first. Longing.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at it slightly. Bucky takes this as an okay for his hands to roam your figure.

“I’ve watched you.” He says between kisses. “The way you float around that office.”

Kiss.

“I’ve seen you look at me, too.”

Kiss.

“The way you bite that lip. Mmm, I think I want a turn.” He nips at you again.

You push off the wall and tug his hand to follow you.

The door to your bedroom is pushed open agonizingly slow. You get the impression he doesn’t like being teased, so of course you have to tease him.

Bucky’s hands are on you again, finding the zipper to your dress. It hits the floor and he steps back, admiring the view.

“You’re killing me, Sugar.” He moans, seeing you topless.

Heels kicked off, you crawl backwards into your bed. He ditches his shirt and pants, and he crawls up your body.

“Can I taste you?” He asks seductively.

Your eyes meet his; cerulean pools of lust drawn you into him.

“Yes. God, yes.” You beg.

He smirks. His lips attaching to the skin above your breast, before taking your nipple into his mouth.

You let out a feral moan, “Oh.”

His lips trace a line down your torso, stopping above you panties.

“Now who’s teasing who?” You breathe.

In seconds, your aching heat was exposed to him. “Baby, baby, baby.” He whined.

Bucky attached his mouth to your throbbing clit, sucking it gently.

“Fuck.” You groan. Grinding your hips upwards.

He puts his hands on your belly. “Don’t move.”

You’re panting, gripping the bedsheets. “James...Oh my God I’m—I’m.”

“Let go,” he coos, “I’ve got you, Sugar.”

At his behest, you come undone. An explosion of ecstasy exploding in your belly.

“Come up here.” You pant.

Bucky smirks as he attaches his mouth to yours.

You press your hands against his chest urging him to lay on his back.

In a fluid motion, your straddling him. Grinding your heat onto his cock.

“You’re a little tease, you know that? I should punish you.” He nips at your breast.

You smirk, lifting yourself just enough for him to slide into you. He was buried to the hilt when he grunted into your ear.

“So wet. So tight. So perfect.”

You rode him like there was no tomorrow. Feeling that familiar burst building in your abdomen.

Bucky lifted you from him, knocking you to your knees and slipping in from behind you.

“James.” You moan.

“I know. C’mon Doll, give me one more. Together.”

He pounded you harder and faster, chasing his own release. Bucky snaked a hand between the two of you, fingering your clit.

“I’m gonna cum. Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You shout.

Bucky’s groans became rhythmic, matching his strokes. You came—hard. Feeling the his warmth spill into you as he lay his chest against your back.

You both flop back. Panting like you’d run a marathon.

“Holy shit...” you breathe.

Bucky leaned over and kissed your head.

“I think I realized why I was such a miserable bastard.” He jokes between breaths.

“Oh yeah?” You ask.

He nods, “I needed to get laid, and I needed it to be you.”

You leaned over and kissed him. “Well, what’s gonna happen on Monday?”

“Based on that? I should fucking promote you.” He jokes.

You slap his chest. “I’m serious! I don’t want this to get weird.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it softly.

“It won’t. I promise. In all honesty, I had planned on asking you out at some point—this kinda just happened first.”

You looked up at him as he closed his eyes peacefully. He really was handsome; a tortured writer in his prime.

“Ask me.” You say suddenly.

Bucky opens one eye. “What?”

“Ask me. Ask me out.” You urge happily.

He looks at you for a moment, before smiling wide. “Miss Monroe, would you like to go out to dinner sometime?”

You leaned on your elbows, kissing his lips longingly.

“I would love to Mr. Barnes. I have to make sure my boss doesn’t need me to work overtime. He’s a real hard ass, ya know.”

Bucky chuckled, “Is he? Might have to knock some sense into him.”

A smirk lands on your lips, and you wink. “Just make sure you leave his mouth alone, that’s precious cargo.”

[afictionaladventure16]

Upon The Sweetest Flower (Chris Evans x Daughter!Reader)

Chapter 5

Upon The Sweetest Flower Masterlist

Previously on Upon The Sweetest Flower...

Warnings: Mentions of missing person and panic attacks. 

Word Count: 1,384

A/N: Thank you to @snarky--starky​ for editing this gem for me! Love you, hon! 

Chris walked into his home, the echo of the door closing seemed odd to him. It was too quiet for a home that was supposed to be occupied by a teenager and a six-year-old. He let out a sigh before pulling off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. “Y/N?” He called out. When he didn’t get a response, he automatically assumed that Y/N must still be on her way home from school, given the fact that it was still early in the afternoon. 

He walked over to the house phone, noticing the red flash that signified that there was a voicemail. As the robotic voice read the number of messages that were received, all Chris could think about was the fact that he was behind on errands. Being called in to film a scene on his day off just threw him off track. 

“All students are being released early.” The message caught Chris off guard, he quickly turned to the machine to replay it again. “This is an announcement from the Sudbury school district that all students that are attending the high school are being released early due to a power outage that has been caused by the weather conditions, Students will be released at exactly 10 AM.” Chris swiped his phone out, quickly dialing Y/N’s number.

“Pick up,” he muttered to himself. The phone rang until it went to voicemail. Chris quickly dialed Elizabeth’s, Y/N’s mom's, number. 

 “Chris, I have a very important meetin-” 

“Is Y/N with you?” Chris tried his best to not sound panicked as he fidgeted with the ends of his sleeve. 

“No, why would she be with me? She’s supposed to be with you, this is your week with the kids.” 

“She’s probably at Scott’s then,” he mumbled to himself. 

“What do you mean probably? What’s going on?” 

“I’ll call you later.” Chris quickly ended the phone call, trying to avoid another argument from the woman that he once loved and still does. 

Chris let out a frustrated sigh before calling Scott. Scott was usually the person to pick Y/N up in case of emergencies. The thought eased Chris’s mind as he listened to the phone ring. Y/N had to be with Scott. She had to be. Chris knew that he was overthinking it and he was letting his anxiety get the best of him.

“Hello?” Chris was thankful that Scott had always been one to quickly answer his phone.

“Hey, Scott! I was just wondering, have you heard from Y/N at all today?” 

“No, I’ve been stuck in meetings all day.” 

Chris grew anxious, he tried his best to not let it eat him up until he knew for sure it was something to be anxious about, but being anxious was second nature for Chris. “Alright, thanks.” Chris didn’t wait for his brother to bid him goodbye, he quickly ended the call and went to the next person on his list.

“Chris!” Lisa exclaimed. “Good thing you called,” she began to say. Chris let out a relieved sigh, his mind directly thought that y/n was with her. 

“Thank God,” he mumbled. 

“What?” Lisa asked in a confused manner. 

“I just got home and I got a voicemail from the school saying they let class out early and she isn’t answering her phone and neither Scott or Elizabeth have heard from her-” 

“Dear lord, Chris,” Lisa exclaimed. “I haven’t heard from her but if I hear anything I’ll be sure to let you know.” Chris’s heart sank. He let his mind get ahead of himself, the tone of his mother’s voice when she picked up the phone, he didn’t know why he mistook it as if y/n was with her. 

“You mean she’s not with you?” Chris asked softly, his voice nearly at its breaking point. 

“No.” 

Chris cursed to himself. “Can you do me a favor?” 

“Of course!” 

“I’m going to need you to pick up Hudson from school.” 

“A-alright.” Lisa could tell by the tone in Chris’s voice, that something wasn’t right. 

“Call me when he’s with you, I have to go.” Chris quickly hung up the phone, dialing the number for the school. “Y/N, you better be at school,” he mumbled to himself. “You can’t be giving your dad a heart attack like this.” He listened to the phone ring a couple of times. 

“Sudbury High School,” the secretary said on the other line. 

“Hi, my name is Chris Evans, I had received a voicemail about school being let out early but I just wanted to see if my daughter was still on the school grounds.” 

“Okay, and what is your daughter’s name?” 

“Y/N Evans.” 

“Okay, just give me a few minutes, Mr. Evans.” 

~

“Hey, Bob? It’s Janet here from the office, I have a parent calling about their daughter Y/N Evans, did you happen to see any students roaming around campus?” Janet said into the radio. She waited patiently for a response. 

“Y/N?” She looked up to see one of the students that had been waiting for their parent, that was a teacher in the school. “I saw her leave when everyone was dismissed.” 

“Are you sure?” Janet asked. 

He gave her a nod, “She got into a car, couldn’t see who it was, but it was raining at the time so she was lucky enough to get a ride.” 

“No students roaming around, Janet,” Bob’s voice came through the radio. 

Janet let out a soft sigh, “Alright, thanks, Bob.” She then grabbed the phone, taking it off hold. “Mr. Evans?” 

~ 

“Yes! I’m here,” Chris said eagerly. 

“I have a student here that saw your daughter get into a friend’s car and I checked with our security and they didn’t see any students roaming around campus.” 

Chris let out a sigh, “Thank you.” Chris then hung up the phone. He felt himself become more relieved to know that a student had seen Y/N get into Genny’s car. For a second, Chris pondered to himself about it, he hadn’t known that Genny drove or that she had even gotten her license. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Jack! It’s me, Chris! I was wondering if Genny is home?” 

“No, she’s actually still at the doctor’s office.” 

“I-I’m sorry?” Chris’s heart thudded in his chest as he pieced together the timeline in his head. Jack’s words repeated themselves in Chris’s head, they sounded disoriented.

“She’s been in the doctor’s office all day,” Jack chuckled. “I feel sorry for her, but she wanted to wrestle with her older brothers and now she has to wait almost six hours just for an x-ray.” 

“So, she didn’t go to school at all?” 

“No, why?” 

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” Chris quickly ended the call. He knew that Y/N didn’t have any other friends than Genny, it sounded sad but Y/N always told her parents that she didn’t need more friends and frankly, Chris thought the same way. 

His fingers were shaking as he dialed Elizabeth’s number. “What now?” Elizabeth answered with an irritated tone. 

“She’s missing,” Chris quickly stated. Elizabeth stayed quiet, she felt worried after Chris’s last call but she told herself that she was either probably with Scott or Genny. “I called my mom, I called the school, I even called Genny’s! She got into someone’s car and she should’ve been home hours ago and she’s not. M-maybe she has another friend we don’t know about? But she would’ve told us right?” Chris stammered. He withheld everything in his body from falling down onto the floor and let out a good sob, but he had hope, hope that Y/N was out there still, maybe at a different friend’s house that he didn’t know about. 

“She doesn’t have other friends,” Elizabeth whispered. Her heart raced as she sat down on the couch. She could hear her ex-husbands breathing becoming uneven, knowing very well that his anxiety was taking over. “Chris, I need you to sit down. I’m going to call the cops and then I’m going to head straight over okay?” Chris didn’t respond. “I need to hear you say okay!” 

“O-okay,” He stammered. 

“We’ll find her,” Elizabeth said before hanging up the phone. “We’ll find her,” she repeated once more to herself.

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[temilyrights]

Escape

Requested by @fangirlspammer​​: Could you do #5 for the Sloane x Reader fic? 

5. “Please come get me…” 

Warnings: alcohol, mild swearing.

You’d been working the case for a week. Neighbours had phoned the police when they noticed a strong smell coming from Petty Officer Ashley Hudson’s apartment. She’d been murdered, cause of death: an excessive amount of stab wounds. Jimmy declared she’d been dead approximately 48 hours before being discovered, hence the smell.  

You’d gone to speak to her CO with McGee. CO Wallace was charming and overly determined to help you find the man who’d killed PO Hudson, he was also teeming with fragile masculinity and arrogance. You noticed the way his lip curled in frustration when Hudson was mentioned and despite how ‘helpful’ he was trying to be he made sure to mention that Hudson was always causing problems and being insubordinate despite there not being a single report supporting this. You didn’t like how he seemed incapable of addressing you, subtly finding ways to direct all his answers to McGee instead.

 When you got back to NCIS, Bishop told you about how PO Hudson had told her sister about a man that was bothering her but never mentioned his name. Just that he was relentless in his advances. You’d spoken to PO Hudson’s friend/fellow PO who had some less than stellar things to say about CO Wallace and his behaviour towards Hudson. You were sure that it was him that had killed her.

 The only evidence was the end of a knife in the victim’s body and a few clothing fibres. You’d hope the clothing fibres would link to something obvious like a military uniform however it was just a common black t-shirt which wasn’t enough to get a warrant. The knife was part of a set from PO Hudson’s kitchen, making your crime of passion theory more likely.

 With PO Hudson’s friend’s testimony, you were sure you could cause enough reasonable doubt but before you had the chance to go speak to her again, she’d rather suddenly been ordered to sea and out of reach.

 You ended up inviting Wallace under the pretence of needing more information for the case, however, when he arrived, he came with an expensive-looking lawyer which didn’t allow you the opportunity to question him as you wanted too. The lawyer had eventually threatened a harassment suit and Vance said you didn’t have cause to hold him, so you’d been forced to let him go.

 You stood in the bullpen and watch as Wallace made his way to the elevator and winked at you on the way. He was due to return to duty in the next couple of days which meant he’d be on a ship out of reach for months. Your case was screwed, and a murderer was going to walk free. 

 You’d argued with Gibbs about finding a way to keep him here but without evidence, there was nothing he could do. McGee, Bishop and Torres had watched you warily from their desks as you’d thrown stuff in your bag, slamming desk draws and stormed out of the building.  

 It was late, nearly 8 pm and you headed straight to a bar. It was dark and pretty empty and the perfect place to drown your sorrows. Jack had phoned you, which you ignored, and then she’d texted you asking if you were ok, resulting in you turning your phone off completely and ordering another drink. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that she cared, because you were, it’s just she’d want to talk about how you’re feeling and she’d be all understanding and kind and she’d smile at you which always made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

 You just wanted to drink, to forget and definitely not think about the disappointed but concerned look Jack would be giving you if she knew what you were currently doing.

 Now it was about an hour later, you were about 3 drinks in and starting to feel the effects of the alcohol as is travelled through your system. The thought of dancing to the bad music filling the bar was beginning to sound more appealing. 

 “Hey beautiful” The voice interrupts your thoughts and you turn to face a man who’s already standing too close, a leer on his face and the smell of stale beer wafting from his body. You resist the urge to grimace in disgust. “What do ya drink?” 

 “Sorry, I’m not interested.” 

 “Awh come on darlin’. What can I get ya?” 

 You lift the side of the jacket to reveal the NCIS badge clipped to your trousers “Not interested.” You repeat and the man looks down at the badge grinding his teeth in mild anger. You lift your eyebrows daring him to try something, but he seems to think better of it and backs away.

 You sigh in relief, going back to your drink. You think maybe you should call it a night and head home but the thought of going home to your empty apartment fills you with dread. You instead order another drink, including a shot this time as well. You down the shot immediately, choking on the strong liquor you wash the taste away with a sip of your drink.   

 You were beginning to feel floaty and were about to get up and dance when Jack enters the bar. She sighs in relief when she sees you. She’s still dressed in the same clothes from the day at work, with an added winter coat to help with the frosty air. Her hair’s a little dishevelled from the long day and you can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

 She takes her phone from her coat pocket, removing her gloves in the process, and begins tapping on it before holding it up to her ear “Yes, I’ve found her. Thank you, Tim.” You’re too far away to hear the response “No, go home. I’ve got her. Yes, I’ll see you at work on Monday, have a good weekend.” She ends the call, shoving her phone back into her pocket before she walks over to you, sliding onto the barstool next to you, she bumps your shoulder.

 “Special Agent Sloane” you smirk, holding your glass up in cheers before taking another sip.

 “You don’t make it easy to track you down,” She says it jokily, but her concern is plastered all over her face.  

 “And yet you’re here less than 2 hours after I left NCIS.”

 She ignores your snide comment. “How are you?” 

 You roll your eyes “I’m fine. I’m drinking.” Jack looks unimpressed as you continue to drink. Well aware of your bullshit she just watches you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m angry” you finally whispered, looking away from Jack’s knowing eyes. 

 She places a comforting hand on your arm and your eyes instantly tear up. You take a deep breath, pulling all your emotions back. You shrug Jack’s hand off your arm and distract yourself with your drink.

 “Don’t do that” Jack chastised, and you sigh loudly. “Y/N-”

 “Can we not.” You snap, your buzz dampened. “I was here alone because I don’t want to talk about this.” 

 “Tough shit” Your head snaps over to Jack in surprise “This case has affected you a lot and you need to talk about that, otherwise you’re just going to end up doing something stupid.” 

 You don’t respond, choosing instead to finish your drink and order another one. Jack sighs in frustration. 

 “How much have you had to drink?” 

 “Not enough apparently.” you quip.

 “Alcohol isn’t going to solve your problems.” 

 You laugh bitterly “Maybe not but it’s a damn good distraction.” 

 “Y/N-”

 “Jack just stop!” You rub your forehead in frustration trying to soothe the headache you feel coming along. The alcohol was only heightening your emotions instead of suppressing them as you’d hoped. Jack is still watching you with concern and it makes you angrier because you don’t want to do this. You just need her to stop, you don't want to think. “I can’t...” you take a deep breath as your voice cracks. You shake your head in frustration and Jack goes to touch you and you basically fall out of your seat in the hurry to escape her grasp. “Don’t...I-” 

 Jack’s hands shoot up in surrender, but you see the hurt flash across her face. You don’t want to upset her; you feel the ache in your chest grow. Your heads swarming from the alcohol, you’re dizzy and hot and need to get out of here. “I need to go” You choke. Turning around you run from the bar. Ignoring Jack’s calls of protest and confusion. 

 You stumble down the street, arms wrapped around yourself to help protect you from the cold air. You’d forgotten to pick up your coat in the rush to get out of the bar and now you were walking around with your flimsy blazer which wasn’t helping at all. The cold air was making the effects of the alcohol more prominent. Your head was fuzzy, and your eyes begin to well up both from the freezing temperature and your swarm of building emotions. 

 It was stupid to run away; you knew she’d be coming to look for you. 

 You’d been so convinced you could get this guy, that his arrogance would allow you to entrap him in some way, but he was too protected, too many friends in high places. No one was as outraged as you and it didn’t make sense, the scumbag had killed PO Hudson because she kept rejecting his advances. You wanted everyone to be furious. 

 In your drunken state, and fast walking you don’t notice the icy pavement ahead of you. You trip, falling onto the floor and twisting your ankle awkwardly. You groan in pain. Your hands are scratched up and you can’t manoeuvre yourself up from the floor, sighing in frustration you dig your phone from your pocket. 

 You turn it on as your hands tremble and you’re surprised to see a flourish of texts and calls appear from Jack from earlier this evening. 

 Oh. 

 You’d know she’d been concerned, but you hadn’t realised just how much. You hang your head in shame, groaning. You’d been such an ass; all she was doing was being helpful and you’d just shouted at her and ran away.

 You hit her number and listen impatiently as it rings.

 “Look Y/N I can just go home-”

 “I’m sorry” you interrupt hating Jack’s upset (and slightly pissed off) voice. You move slightly and then inhale sharply as your ankle twinges. 

 “Are you ok?” the concern is back instantly.

 “Please come get me...” You wince, another sharp pain shooting through your ankle. You hated how pathetic you sounded.  

 “Where are you?”

 “I only got a few streets away. I can’t see a street sign and I can't move. I slipped; I think I’ve sprained my ankle” you groan. Jack assures you she’ll be there soon and hangs up. You wait, now freezing cold, your ass soaking wet from the icy floor.

 She arrives a couple of minutes later, stopping her car in front of you, she rushes over. Grabbing you by the arms Jack helps pull you from the ground and you bite your lip to try and hide just how much pain you were in.

 “Are you ok?” Jack’s face is full of worry and concern, her hands ghost over you as if to check you were all still there and you try to ignore the feelings it erupts in you. “You’re freezing.”

 “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I'm drunk and sad and angry and you were being too nice, and I needed to getaway. You were going to get me to talk because I can literally never say no to you-” You miss the slight blush that hits Jack’s cheeks “but I’m angry Jack. I’m angry and I don’t understand why no one else is.” You’re finding it hard to breathe as you let all your emotions from the last week hit.

 Jack moves her hands back to your face, making you focus on her. “Hey. It’s ok. Just breathe” You copied her as she took deep breaths. “Let’s get you home ok?” she said after you’d calmed down slightly. You nodded weakly and she helped you to the car. 

 “I’m really sorry for tonight” The car is silent, Jack focused on the road and you on looking anywhere but at Jack.

 “I’m sorry for pushing you to open up” Jack hesitates “But you do know I’m always here to talk to, right?  Or not talk to, whatever you need.” 

 Jack’s still focused on the road, but you look over to her smiling slightly as you admire her “my super special agent” The words escape your mouth without your permission, you were definitely too drunk to be this close to her. Jack’s head swings round to look at you causing your stomach to explode with butterflies. She looks surprised, her face red. Seeing you watching her she looks back to the road, clearing her throat. 

 The rest of the journey is silent and you’re grateful when she pulls up outside your apartment. Jack grabs your bag and coat from the back seat and moves around the car to help you get out, an arm wrapped around your waist to keep you balanced, as she helps you up the stairs to your apartment. Making sure you’re steady, she lets go of you as she digs through your bag for your keys.

 Once the door is open you both enter, Jack goes off to find something for your ankle, and you wobble to your bedroom. You quickly get out of your wet and cold clothes. Selecting a comfy pair of pyjama trousers and a t-shirt you slip them on before hopping over to your bed. You lie down, sinking into your covers shivering slightly as you try to warm up. 

 Jack enters carrying a glass of water and a frozen pack of peas wrapped in a dishcloth and a small first aid box. You’ve already placed a pillow underneath your ankle and Jack gently places the peas over the top. She then sets your glass on the bedside table, before sitting next to you on the bed with the first aid box. 

 “Let me clean your hands and then you need to drink the water” You nod as Jack cradles one of your hands in hers. They are scraped and red but luckily no proper cuts which meant their likely was little to no gravel in there. She takes an antiseptic wipe. “This is going to sting” You nod, and Jack begins to wipe the area.

 “Son of a-” you gasp flinching lightly, cutting yourself off before you swear and Jack laughs lightly, rolling her eyes. 

 “Hold still, I’m nearly done” Jack chastised, taking your other hand and continuing to clean. You gasp again and Jack looks over to you, your eyes meeting and you both still. She’s now tied her hair up into a messy ponytail with strands of hair framing her face. You want to reach out and touch them, touch her. Jack was watching you closely and you wondered if she felt any of the things you did. You should look away, but you can’t seem to manage, held captive by Jack's eyes. You just needed to reach out and-

 You kiss her. It’s soft and slow and for a few beautiful seconds, Jack is kissing you back.

 Then she sharply pulls away.

 She stares at you in shock, her fingers ghosting her lips and you watch her as about 5 different emotions flash across her face in a couple of seconds.

 Jack’s eyes start to ghost before she releases a choked “you’re drunk.”

 “I’m sobering up.” you rebut instantly.

 “Y/N-” Jack’s shaking her head now.

 “I want this.” You’re surprised by how firm and confident your voice is, but it’s true. You want this so badly, wanted it for so long.

 “I can’t do this-”

 “Jack-”

 “No. This shouldn’t have happened, you’re drunk, and you’ve had a bad week and-”

 “I want this.” you repeat, reaching out to touch Jack’s cheek but she pulls away before you can, and tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.

 “Please stop…” She begs and your chest aches.

 “I promise you I’d want this completely sober; I’ve just been too shit scared to do anything.” You must be slightly convincing as Jack finally meets your eyes again. You gently wipe away the tears from her face and she releases a shaky breath.

  “I can’t do this. Not while you’ve got alcohol in your system. You mean a lot to me Y/N and I don’t want you to say these things just to turn around and regret them in the morning-”

 “I’m not-”

 “Just listen please” Jack begs “I’m going to go now and if you mean it, and I mean really mean it Y/N, then phone me tomorrow. If you don’t” Jack’s voice wobbles “than we can forget about it and move on.”

 “Ok” you nod and Jack leans over to you leaving a lingering kiss on your cheek, before ducking her head and getting off your bed. “I really do mean it, Jack.” You say as she turns to look at you. She gives you a small smile, but you can see the doubt in her eyes before she turns back around and leaves.

 Once you hear your front door shut, you lean back into your bed. A bright smile crosses your face before you drift off to sleep.