#MAKES ME WANNA START BITTING ON MY WALLS OF HOW MUCH YEARNING OH GOD

[namaaaes]

oremonogatari is so good makes my heart go all soft and fluffly and melt!! oh god love is real! they're so cute together! but at the same time

[buckyownsmylife]

You and I - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry comes over to fix your computer

Warnings: reader is a henry fan, pandemic theme, lockdown and quarentine-ing, little bit of second-hand embarrassment?, heatwave, henry is feeling deprived in this one, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), dirty talk, brief hairpulling, the name of God in vain, Henry’s monster dick,  laughing and teasing while fucking, hand over throat but no actual choking, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex

Word count: over 3k, ‘cause I got no chill

A/N: this was inspired by a tik tok someone requested me to write a fic about it. Obviously I took it in a different direction because can I ever follow guidelines? No. I do love this fic, though. Thank you to @lokiscollar​ for giving this a read for me!

Y/N’s P.O.V

Driving to a secluded location to spend lockdown in felt like a wonderful idea. There was a working wi-fi connection, so I could work remotely from the seashore cabin without any problem whatsoever, and the view was obviously to die for.

I did not expect someone else to have the same idea as me. The cabin next door had been occupied on the same day that I arrived, and much to my surprise, I recognized my new neighbor as someone I never expected I’d come to meet in my entire life: an actor. An actor I actually had a crush on.

Thankfully, the situation didn’t exactly call for mingling. I ran off to hide inside my cottage as soon as I realized who he was, occupying myself with fixing everything for the next day instead of daydreaming about the man next-door.

There would be time for that later, once I got in bed. But weirdly enough, that was the only time I really thought about him during those first weeks of quarantine. Every once in a while I’d get the random wave of curiosity about what he was doing - what did Henry Cavill get up to while spending lockdown by himself? But that was pretty much it.

I woke up every day, had breakfast, worked and then went to bed. Sometimes I’d sit by the balcony and watch the birds fly, taking in the scenery and breathing in the salty water. Even as a kid, I’d always loved the sea. It was comforting, so it made sense for me to turn to it in such a stressful time.

Sometimes I’d hear a bark or two, reminding me of the man who was staying in the other cabin, and it made me smile. I always did like his dog, whenever I saw pictures of him.

I hoped they were alright and that the absence of any human contact wasn’t getting to them, even though it was getting to me. I could feel my own social abilities - which weren’t exactly stellar before - slowly becoming decrepit, and I was scared to think of what my first human interaction would be like once lockdown was over.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be come so soon.

The morning began as it usually would. I took my shower, I had my breakfast, and I sat in front of the computer with my coffee in hands, ready to start working for the day.

Only the computer wasn’t ready for it, too.

“What?” I talked to myself - something that had become more usual the longer lockdown went on. “Oh, no, no, no…” The situation was looking drearier the longer I stared at my lifeless screen.

Looking up at the clock, I considered my options. Even supposing I could get someone to come to this middle of nowhere to fix it, there was no way I’d be able to get it done before work started.

Sighing, I pushed away from my designated desk to call my boss. Thankfully, he understood and I was left to repair the damn thing and come up with a solution for the next day.

My heart ached at the prospect of having to abandon my refuge because of an electronic malfunction. And that is, if there even was anyone willing to fix the damn thing, considering the pandemic and the rules of social distancing. That’s when suddenly, an idea popped up.

I remembered all the fuss a few months back over a video of Henry assembling a computer all by himself. There was no way someone with that much hardware prowess couldn’t at least know enough to fix this simple laptop.

With that thought in mind, I gathered all of my courage to leave my little shack and make my way to the neighboring cabin. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and after a few seconds of silence - he was probably surprised and certainly not expecting anyone - a voice sounded from within.

“Who is it?” Now, I had thought this through. If this man came as far as I had come to this damn forgotten town, it was because 1) he wanted peace and quiet and 2) he was as terrified of the virus as I was. So I knew what I needed to say - what I would like to hear if the roles were reversed.

“It’s your neighbor. My name’s Y/N. I’m so sorry to disturb, but my computer broke and I need it to work and you’re the only person I’m 100% sure has been socially distancing for long enough not to put my life in risk.” After all, I would have seen if someone had come to visit him. I didn’t need to say this because both of us knew it. “Would you pretty pretty please come and check it out?”

Silence followed my question and I sighed, rubbing my sweaty forehead as I knew this was a long-shot. “I understand if you’re unable or uncomfortable doing so, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks anyway!”

I had already turned my back to his front door when I heard it swinging open, the pitter patter of paws following close behind. My eyes took in the man in front of me for only a second before looking down at the dog at his feet, head tilted in interest as he analyzed me.

Immediately, my eyes lit up. “Kal!” I exclaimed, kneeling down to let the animal sniff me so I could pet it. My heart stopped working for a second when I realized what I’d done, though.

“Sorry!” I looked up at him from my kneeling position, trying to ignore how awkward it was, considering what I was close to. “I-I do know who you are, I’m not gonna lie about that.”

I straightened up as he kept looking at me in a way I couldn’t quite define. Neither could I determine how it made me feel, just that it made me avert my gaze so I’d stare at my feet.

“So… Are you gonna help me?” He chuckled at my question, closing the door behind him and taking a step in my direction, making me fumble as I instinctively stepped back.

“Sure.” It was the first thing he spoke to me, but we walked back to my own place in silence. He had his hands in his pockets as Kal followed us closely, his tongue hanging outside his mouth as he happily explored the outside for this little while. “Come on in.”

The way the cottage was set up left little space for him to wonder where he should be helping me. The desk in which I had prepared my set-up stood right by the wall to our left, and there he went without me having to point it out.

I watched a drop of sweat roll down the nape of his neck and fall under his tank top, distracting me as I licked my lips at the sight of it. Then his head turned to look at me and I realized that he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, huh?” He chuckled again, making my face feel warm - an not (only) because of the overwhelming heat.

“Is it okay if I disconnect the wi-fi?” I wave my hand dismissively, shrugging.

“As long as you’re able to fix this, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I got the impression that I amused him, but he didn’t say anything else as he got to work on my (seemingly) dead computer.

Minutes went by of complete silence, safe from the sounds of typing and metal as Henry worked on the machine and I tried not to bite my nails. Finally, he pulled away from the screen and put his hands on his hips as if assuming some sort of decided stance - but if it was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me, doctor.” I asked, pushing myself away from the sofa to approach him. The smell of a man’s sweat really had no right to be this arousing. “Is it life or death?” Henry turned to stare at me with a quirked eyebrow, and in the seconds it took for him to answer, I was once again distracted by just how hot he was.

“Sorry, what?” I asked when he became silent and I realized he’d asked me something I hadn’t heard once more. His smile said he was annoyed and entertained at the same time. “Sorry, you’re hot, it’s hot, and I can’t think straight,” I sighed, brushing the hair away from my eyes as I pressed my palms against them, trying to pull myself together.

“I swear to God, I’m not crazy.” I tried to look him directly as I said that, but was surprised at what I saw when our gazes met. There was a peculiar sense of yearning that he exuded, something I couldn’t quite place but that took my breath away all the same, especially when he took my silence as an invitation to invade my personal space.

“If you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask.” Silence fell heavily and I was out of breath just from his words - not a good sign. My throat felt dry, too dry, so I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip as I struggled to say something.

“W-why, though?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes inscrutable while he judged my question, trying to understand where it came from just like I was trying to understand his interest in me, when he suddenly smiled.

“I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay me back.” It took me a second to understand what he was referring to, and then my eyes darted from the computer to him, my mouth falling open in offense until he started chuckling. “I’m joking!” But even so, the question remained…

“Sweetheart…” He spoke, voice low and velvety as two strong hands suddenly enveloped my hips. “You’re seriously underestimating how hot you are.” I didn’t know what to say, so I had to make sure I’d hear him right.

“M-me?” A predatory smirk took over his face, slowly. I gulped under its intensity, feeling much like prey as he started to back me against the couch. I fell on top of it with a gasp, and another one escaped me when he used my ankles to pull me closer.

“I wanna eat you out.” It was all I got as an answer, but I can’t say that I minded it. As he dropped to his knees before me, pulling down my underwear before spreading my legs for his eyes to take in, it felt like I got a response from the gesture in itself.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I ate pussy?” The unexpected question made me choke on my own saliva, as he chuckled darkly in amusement at my bashfulness. I could only breathe through my mouth when he leaned down to run his tongue on the edge of my lips, slowly acquainting himself with my taste, making me moan softly.

“I-I definitely and decidedly don’t.” He seemed to like this answer, understand that it delimited exactly the type of fan that I was: the kind that knew what he was and what he liked - his dog, his computer - but not someone who was obsessed with his entire dating history, eager to know his every secret.

The longer Henry ate me out, the clearer it became just how long it’d been since he’d done this. It was obviously something he liked - the way he buried his face against my cunt and engulfed it entirely with his open mouth showed so. And the fact that he licked me and sucked me like he was a starved man? This was a man denied of a pleasure he genuinely enjoyed, that much I was certain of.

“Do you like this?” He asked once he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of me, already stretching me beyond what I could do with my own hand.

“How could I not?” I managed to moan a response, making him chuckle.

“Show me how to find it,” he instructed, eyes sparkling with determination. “I want to find your sweet spot.” I’d never had someone I was with so interested in giving me pleasure before.

Hypnotized, my fingers circled his wrist as best as I could, slowly moving him to run his digits over the top of my channel. He knew when he found it because I cried out for him, closing my eyes momentarily.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, and how could I deny him that, especially when he was looking at me with those darkened eyes? He milked my orgasm until my pussy had stopped clenching around him, but the second that it was done, he growled, getting up to his knees. “Gonna fuck you now.”

He pulled me by my hair, making me moan out loud as he slowly inserted his monster cock inside of me. “Oh, God!” His groan had me panting, cunt clenching around his thickness. I couldn’t understand how I was able to take it, but I was glad that was the case. “So… tight…”

Through his grip on my hair, he pulled me to deposit quick kisses down my jaw. “You take me so well, darling.” It was a compliment I was proud to receive, even though I wasn’t too sure how I managed to earn it in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted, gasping when he slowly dragged his cock out to slam it in me, but I instinctively pulled my hips away, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Come back here,” he ordered, already pulling me back to spear me with his painfully hard length. I’d have to be inhuman not to cry out at the feeling of his bulbous head bumping against my cervix. “Are you scared?” He joked as I bit on my bottom lip not to give in and laugh. “You think I’m too big?”

“You’re more than enough, I’ll tell you that.” Now, that had his own laugh escaping his chest, making my body tremble underneath his, inadvertently getting some friction between the both of us. It earned me a moaned out, “Yes…” that got his attention back to where I hoped it would be, and as his eyes settled on me, I briefly wondered if I was prepared for what was to come.

“But now that you got all of me inside of you, do you really want to go?” The whispered question made me shiver. I never expected him to be the type to talk dirty, but then again, I never expected I’d be fucked by him, either.

“No.” It was all the permission he needed.

“Then let me fuck you hard.” And hard he did fuck me. He was hard inside of me, it probably would have been painful for him if he wasn’t so desperately trying to alleviate it by frantically fucking me against the couch.

It was the most deliciously torturous experience I’d ever gone through. I had to bite my lip while I held onto his shoulders for dear life, trying to stop my moans from escaping because I was sure that for once, I’d become a screamer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Henry didn’t appreciate my efforts to keep his ears from deafening. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, fingers tightening on my hips. “I thought you wanted this.”

Confused, all I could think to say was, “I-I do.”

“Then let me hear you,” he insisted. “You know you can scream all you want. We’re all alone up here on the coast.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. And with that reassurance, I allowed my head to fall back and my mouth to fall open, my moans flowing freely from my body as Henry kept fucking me.

“This is so much better than touching myself in search of a release,” he mumbled at some point, like he was talking to himself. “I was so damn lonely and you have such a tight little pussy.”

Being fucked by him felt like a religious experience. Henry somehow knew the map to my pleasure, easily bringing me to the brink of bliss before I had even managed to wrap my head around this turn of events.

My moans grew louder as I climbed higher and higher, but before I could fully tip over his hand curled around my throat, not constricting any air, just calling my attention.

“Ask for permission, baby.” Just the order had me clenching around him, prompting him to release a moan of his own. All the while, I was groaning in frustration, trying to control myself or say what he wanted me to say, but all that came out of me was, “Goddamn! You can’t say stuff like that.” Henry’s laughter flowed freely once more, making my heart skip a beat. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a fucking movie star and I am not up to fall in love with you.” That had his eyebrows raising in surprise, the smile disappearing from his face before it came back as a teasing smirk.

“Oh, so this is a one-time thing.” The taunting manner in which he said it surprised me in turn, so I hesitated before nodding. I mean, of course it was, right? He didn’t even know me. This was strictly sexual and physical, I would not be fooled by my own hormones. “My cock is not enough for you to want to get to know me some is that it?” … Was he testing me?

“Yes.” His smirk only grew at the word. “This is a one-time thing.”

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers ran down my body to graze over my clit. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it in, knowing I was going to lose. Eventually, as my thighs began to tremble, I gave in altogether.

“Please, let me cum, please.” His eyes softened at my broken and desperate plea, hand gripping my cheeks as he finally nodded.

“Keep staring at me as you cum,” he commanded, still just as bossy. “Show me how pretty you look when you cream all over my dick.” That was all I needed to succumb to the pleasure he was subjecting me to.

I felt his cock, still hard as it pumped rope after rope of cum inside of me, and by the time I was able to open my eyes again, he was panting over me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face.

I didn’t have the time to think about what I should do - push him away, try to pretend this didn’t happen - because the second I began to adjust on the couch, he pulled me to rest against his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a little while,” he quietly asked me. “Then we’ll figure out if there’s enough room for me to take you in your bed.”

[marvelouspeterparker]

what you need

pairing: dom!peter parker x reader

request: I don’t know if request are open but if they are can you please write where peter over hears the reader on the phone saying she’s not sure about sex, because she doesn’t know if he’ll be dominant and rough because the other times he was sweet and gentle. So after hearing this pete gets super dommy and like webs her to the bed a teases her and makes her beg to cum and is just really dominant. Thank you so much if you do this! I love your writing❤️❤️ by anonymous

warnings: smut, dom/sub, edging, spanking, orgasm denial

word count: 4.3k

notes: this has been in my inbox since summer 2019 i am so sorry + peter and reader are 18+ in this and living together (basically they’re grown) + i’m actually not sure i like this but oh well

“I don’t know MJ,” you sighed, unsure. “I just––It’s just not really as good as it could be.” 

Peter didn’t mean to eavesdrop, he really didn’t. But he had been playing video games for a few hours now and had decided to take a break for today and made his way over to your shared bedroom. He’d realized you were on the phone and was going to go and come back later, but your conversation piqued his interest and he couldn’t help himself. Also, his hearing was pretty good, so even if he went back, he would have heard it anyway, even if he didn’t want to. You must have thought he still had his headset on.

“No he’s great––he’s really good.” You paused. “No he’s way better than my exes, he makes sure I cum every time, multiple times, that’s not the issue.” Peter leaned against the wall, crossing his arms, a feeling of smug pride in his chest, until another part of his mind reminded him that you said that wasn’t the issue––then what was? There was an issue? 

“I––He’s just really,” you paused, struggling to find the right word. “Sweet...Gentle. He’s really gentle. I want him to be rough with me. I want him to be dominant.” You sighed. “But I think he’s just too soft to do that.”

Peter let his arms fall to his side. You’d never told him you wanted him to be rougher. If you had, he would bend you over his knee, no questions asked. He just had no idea you were into that. 

When he heard you say bye to MJ, he took a deep breath and walked into the room. You looked up, startled. “Oh––Hi Pete.” 

He smiled back, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. He paused, a few feet away from you, looking down at his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He could hear your heartbeat quicken. “W––What do you mean?”

“I heard your phone call, Y/N.” 

“Oh, Pete––” You closed the distance between the two of you, your hand reaching out to hold his shoulder but his hand shot out and caught it in mid-air. He could hear your heartbeat becoming erratic. 

He looked up at you and your breath hitched at the sinful look in his eyes. He could hear you getting excited, he could also smell you too. “Asked you a question, baby.” He tilted his head and brought your hand to his mouth, turning it to kiss the inside of your wrist, his thumb caressing the soft skin. “Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to be used like a toy?”

Your mouth went dry. “I––” You had no idea what to say. You knew he could tell how aroused you were getting, yet he wasn’t doing anything. 

He raised a brow, clearly waiting for a response, and though it frustrated you, it also made you even wetter. 

“I didn’t think you’d––be able to.” You could see a flash of irritation cross his features. 

“I can lift a truck with my bare hands, and you thought I wouldn’t be able to dominate a pretty,” he leaned closer to you, “little thing,” he tilted your chin up, “like you?” Everything would be considered little to Pete when it came to his super strength––you’d never thought about it like that. 

He moved as if he was going to kiss you, his breath softly touching your lips. “I’m going to have you crying for me, angel.”

He pulled away from you and you tried to lean forward and steal a kiss but you weren’t fast enough. He started to pull your shirt up and paused to let you confirm that you wanted this. When you nodded, he continued and pulled it off completely, letting it fall to the ground. His eyes shamelessly ogled your chest and the look in his eyes made you feel so vulnerable but so seductive––as if you were the one putting him in a trance, even though for you, it was the other way around. 

He kissed his way down your stomach as he crouched down, pulling down your sweats and helping you step out of them. He stood back up and trailed his eyes over your body, your pebbled nipples, the rise and fall of your chest. God, you were magnificent.

“Are––Are you not gonna get undressed?” You asked quietly. When he raised a brow, you swallowed and looked down, suddenly nervous. 

He tilted your head up by your chin and you bit your lip. “You want me to get naked? Wanna see how hard my cock is for you, just from the sight of you?” You nodded eagerly and he tutted, “You know you have to tell me exactly what you want, princess. Otherwise, I won’t do a thing.” 

You licked your lips nervously. “I want––I want to see you. All of you.” 

“Yeah?” He teased. “What part of me do you want to see?” 

“Pete–” You whined, embarrassed. He crossed his arms and you sighed. “Your––I want to see your cock.” You said quietly. 

He smiled, tapping your chin playfully. “There you go, baby. That wasn’t so hard was it?” 

He pulled his shirt off teasingly slow, only letting you see inches of his skin at a time, your eyes trailing up with each sliver of skin you saw––from his v-line, to his abs, until he finally pulled it all the way off. He took off his pants and his boxers in no time, but he barely gave you any time to gawk at him. 

“Get on the bed.” You could tell in his eyes, he wasn’t playing. You followed his instructions quickly, part of you extremely excited to see how this played out. 

You got on your back in the middle of the bed and held your breath as Peter watched you silently, stroking his cock slowly. Your mouth was watering at the sight of him, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t let you take care of him first. 

“Safe word is red, okay? Don’t be afraid to use it if you need to.” He looked at you to make sure you heard him and you nodded.

“Okay.” 

He took his time taking you in, watching you squirm on the bed. You don’t even know how long he’d made you wait so far, it could have been thirty seconds, it could have been two minutes––you have no idea but it was too long. The way his hand was squeezing around his cock the way you liked to, his tip leaking with pre-cum, you couldn’t handle it. You started to squeeze your thighs together to relieve some pressure and his eyes snapped up to yours immediately. 

“Spread your legs.” 

You whined but complied, sighing when you felt the air of the room hit between your legs. 

Peter’s eyes narrowed in on your center and he sped up his hand. “Fuck, princess. Look at you. You’re so wet for me, aren’t you? Can see you glistening from here.” 

You mewled, his words only making you more bothered. You had to physically stop yourself from closing your legs but Peter wasn’t having that.

“Hands above your head.” 

You looked at him, pouting. “But Pete––”

“Hands. Above. Your. Head.”

You swallowed and did as he asked. He climbed onto the bed, sitting on his knees between your legs, eyes focused on your center. “You’re so fucking perfect. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

He brought his hands to trail up and down your thighs, his touch teasingly soft. “You know what else I can’t believe?”

You hummed, looking up at him. 

“That you didn’t tell me you wanted to be treated like a slut.” You audibly gasped and he smirked. “This whole time I was treating you like my innocent little angel,” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, “when you really just wanted to be my needy little whore.” He trailed his hand down your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him, but not close enough. 

Your back arched as you squirmed under him, “Peter please.” 

He quirked a brow, looking into your eyes. “Yes?”

“Touch me.” 

“I am touching you.” He retorted, a small smile on his face. 

“Pete come on,” you whined, “stop messing around.”

“Sweetheart,” He dug his fingers into your thighs, making you sigh. “Does it look like I’m joking?” He kissed your knee. “Where do you want me to touch you exactly?”

You let out a shaky breath.

He kissed the side of your knee. “Here?” You shook your head. He kissed about an inch lower, a smile on his face. “Here?” You shook your head once again. He kissed lower and lower, asking each time, and every time, you would shake your head no. When he finally reached the highest point of your thigh, right next to your center, you were basically panting with want. 

He was lying down on the bed now, his face hovering above your wet center. He kissed your clit gently and you moaned, your hips bucking for more, but he was quick to push you back down with one hand.

He laughed, “Is this where you want me to touch, baby?” You nodded desperately, but that wasn’t enough for him. He tilted his head, licking his lips. “Say it.” He ordered. 

You looked down at him, your eyes about to water already with how sensitive and needy you were. “I want––want you to touch my pussy please, Peter.”

“Such a bad girl,” he cooed teasingly. “Naughty mouth too.” His fingers were tracing around your pussy softly, barely grazing your skin, making you yearn for more. “Practically punishing me just because you didn’t tell me what you wanted. Talking about me to your friend, keeping this to yourself...” He looked you in the eye, the dark look in his gaze making your breath hitch. “You were holding back from me too, princess. Depriving me of the darkest, most sensual parts of you, your desires, when we both could have been having fun…What on earth am I gonna do with you?” He pulled his hand away from you and you whined, making him bite his lip. “More importantly, what am I gonna do to you?”

You took a sharp inhale. 

He lowered his head, still looking up at you. “You want my mouth?”

You nodded. “Want your mouth on me, please please please Peter.” You were already begging and the thought made Peter twitch. He had to control himself, he knew that if he rutted against the bed and just watched you, he’d cum in no time––and he really wanted to do that inside of you. But he couldn’t help but drag this out a little bit––not when you looked so enticing.

“Yeah?” he bit his lip. “You want my mouth on this pretty pussy?”

You were near tears, “Yes Peter! Please!” You didn’t care how desperate you sounded, you just wanted him to do something. This was the wettest and neediest you’ve ever felt and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

“Say it, baby.”

You looked at him, barely hearing his words, your response breathless. “W–What?”

His eyes were piercing yours. “Say you want me to eat this pretty little pussy. Then I’ll give you what you want.” 

“P––Pete I––” 

He raised a brow and made as if he was going to get up, and you quickly spoke up, “Okay I––Please Pete,” He looked at you, wordlessly egging you on. “I want you to eat my pretty little pussy…” Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, but then again, so did the rest of your body. 

He hummed, still not moving. “One mistake though, babe.” You pouted, in disbelief that he still hadn’t eaten you out––normally he would jump straight to it, no questions asked. “This isn’t your pussy.” His finger trailed down from your clit to your hole, picking up the wetness as it dragged down ever so softly and your brows furrowed in frustration and pleasure, his other hand pinning you down. “It’s mine.” 

You closed your mouth, your pussy clenching hopelessly around nothing. 

“So correct yourself.” 

“I––” You paused and bit your lip. 

“I’m waiting, princess. You know it’s not really nice of you to make me wait this long. I’ve been aching to get my mouth on you.” He ran his finger back up to rest on your clit and you sighed.

You had to bite your tongue to prevent your frustrations from pouring out through some very vulgar words. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and Peter smiled annoyingly at you when you opened your eyes––He knew exactly what he was doing. His hand rubbed up and down in your inner thigh and you took a shaky breath. “Peter please? Can you eat your pretty little pussy? It’s throbbing Pete please, I need you––”

He growled and buried his face in you, his tongue lapping up and spreading your wetness. Your hands shot down to grab his hair immediately and he pulled away, making you whine loudly. “I said hands above your head, sweetheart. First and final warning.” You raised your hands back where they were and he dove back in, hands pushing your thighs apart as he devoured you. 

He was moaning into you, fully and unabashedly enjoying himself. “My pussy’s always so fucking wet and sweet for me, isn’t it?” 

You sighed dreamily, the pleasure going straight to your head, “Mm only for you.” 

He chuckled, his tongue making its way through your folds to lap at your clit mercilessly. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you into him, shaking his head, moving his tongue aggressively to push you towards the edge. You felt your breath hitch, your eyes widening as your legs started to tremble. Unwillingly, your hands shot down and just as they made contact with his head, he pulled away from you, making you whine loudly.

“Pete no––”

He licked his lips, not even bothering to wipe his chin and you clenched helplessly around nothing. You were pulsing and his eyes focused on your pussy for a moment before he looked back up into your eyes.

“What did I say?”

“I––”

“What. Did I. Say, Y/N.” 

You gulped, “To keep my hands above my head.”

“That’s right. And did you do what I asked?” His eyes were piercing yours. 

“You just felt––”

“Did you. Do. What I asked?” 

You shook your head nervously, “N––No.”

He sat back, looking you up and down, hunger in his eyes. “Gonna have to punish you now, sweetheart.”

You perked up and he smiled. He could hear your heartbeat, your breath. “Yeah baby? You want me to spank that pretty ass of yours?”

You nodded, getting into position over his lap before he could even blink. You turned your head and batted your eyelashes teasingly. “Can you please spank me?” 

“Jesus––” he muttered, his hands going over your smooth skin, grabbing the flesh. “So beautiful, aren’t you?” You bucked into his hips, getting wetter from his words and his touch. You unconsciously rubbed your thighs together and he swatted one of them lightly, making you gasp. “You know what to do. Spread em, babygirl.”

You whined but opened your legs, spread over him as if he were taking you from behind. “Such a naughty girl, wanting me to hurt you.” He spanked you with no warning and his strong hands held you back when you jolted away from him. “Such. A. Dirty. Fucking. Thing.” He spanked you between each word, your back arching further with each hit. 

“Fuck, Pete.” 

“Yeah I know. My princess likes that doesn’t she?” You nodded pathetically and he smiled, lifting you up to sit in his lap. “Well too bad this is supposed to be a punishment, then.” His smile dropped and your legs clenched around him. “On the bed like before. Don’t make me ask twice.” 

You crawled over to the middle again, hands above your head and he watched you for a moment. He got up without a word and you stopped yourself from complaining. He came back with something in his hands and it looked like––

He pressed a button in a split second and your hands were webbed to the bed. Your eyes went wide and he could tell that you enjoyed it. He threw the web-shooter aside and climbed back between your legs, his hands running up and down your thighs. 

“This okay baby?” You nodded and he smiled. “Since I know I can’t trust you to follow simple instructions and keep your hands where they belong,” he gave you a pointed look. “I just had to do something myself to make sure that you’re a good girl for me.” 

He lowered himself back down and wasted no time, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on your pussy, his arm slinging across your waist when you started squirming. 

“Ughh F––Fuck, Pete––”

“That’s it, just take it baby.” He locked eyes with you. “Feel the way my tongue is touching you in ways that only I can.” He lifted his head and spit on your pussy, making you gasp, your hands hopelessly straining against the restraints. He cursed softly, noticing the way you were weakly fighting against the webs and licked along your slit, making a proper mess between your thighs with the mix of his spit and your wetness. His lips and his chin were soaked and you could see them glistening every time he pulled away from you or moved, only making you needier and wetter. 

“Baby, I’m close––” You barely spit out, your voice quiet. 

He hummed and sucked on your clit harshly, making you choke on your breath. Just as you felt yourself about to tip over the edge, he let you go with a loud pop of his lips, moving his kisses to your inner thighs. You let out a pained whine and he smirked, his lips still pressed to your thigh as he looked up at you. 

“Why?” You asked, your voice breaking. 

“Told you I wanted you to cry.” He had the nerve to shrug nonchalantly. 

“You’re being mean.” You pouted, but Peter could hear your heartbeat, he could tell how you really felt, and you knew this. 

He smirked again. “Don’t sit there and pretend you don’t like it.” He licked up your pussy again. “Looking at and tasting how wet you are, we both know how much you love this.” Before you could come up with a response, he wrapped his lips around you, licking and sucking. You felt sensitive and you were throbbing, aching to cum.

You could feel yourself reaching your peak rather quickly and your eyes fluttered shut, your head falling back as you tried and failed to arch your back under Peter’s hold. Before you could get a glimpse of relief, Peter pulled away from you again and you let out a small cry.

He did this again and again, every time you were about to tip over, he released your clit from his lips and trailed his kisses to your thighs, watching you pant and whine. He’d wait until you calmed down to shift his attention back between your legs.

Every time he edged you it hurt, but it also felt so good. It was thrilling. You were so needy and so desperate, and that was exactly how he wanted you. By the third edge, your eyes were glassy, by the fifth you had tears pooling in your eyes, and by the sixth, they finally rolled down your cheeks. Only then did he let you cum, sitting up on his knees and practically bending you in half as he devoured you, moans and whines falling from your lips. 

Your body was trembling the whole time that you came, his mouth still attached to you. You felt relief for a few seconds before you realized he wasn’t stopping and there was no way for you to push him off. If you really did want him to stop, you could just say the safe word, but it felt so overwhelmingly good, part of you wanted it to stop, but part of you wanted him to keep going. 

“Pete oh my god!––”

He growled and kept going, shaking his head and humming into you, his tongue dipping in and out of you while he held you up, one arm wrapped over you, while he slipped two fingers into your dripping hole and sucked on your bundle of nerves. Your legs were shaking, your body convulsing as he tortured you. He didn’t stop until you came again and again. 

He set you down on the bed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before licking it up, and sucking on his fingers, not wanting to let any of you go to waste. “Taste so fucking good, princess.” 

Your body was still going through aftershocks as he looked you up and down. He bent down as if he was going to eat you out again, his eyes on yours, and licked one teasingly slow stripe up your pussy, making you yelp and weakly try to shut your legs. He kissed your clit and up along your stomach, making his way up to your chest, then your lips. You eagerly kissed him back with tongue, tasting yourself as you trembled under him. 

He pulled away and smiled down at you, far too innocently, but there was a glint in his eyes. “Never get tired of tasting my pussy.” 

You let out a small whimper and your legs unconsciously squeezed around his waist. He brought a hand down to trace your thigh and your ass, his touch making you shiver. He grabbed your thigh and leaned down to kiss you again, your bodies molding together, his cock grinding against your pussy, making you whine into his lips. You were so sensitive, but you still wanted more. 

“Gonna let me fuck my pussy baby, hm?”

You nodded. “Please.”

He grabbed his cock with one hand and hissed, pumping himself a few times before swiping it through your wet folds and sliding in. He bottomed out immediately, letting out a string of broken groans as you moaned. 

“Feels so fucking tight.” His head fell back for a moment, eyes closing as he let himself just feel you. He thrusted in and out of you and his head fell forward again, focused on where you two were connected. “That’s it. Just like that. Such a perfect pussy. My perfect pussy.” 

You mewled and his eyes snapped up to yours. “You like when I talk about my pussy baby?” You nodded and he smiled. “Yeah I know you do. Filthy fucking thing.” 

 He started thrusting into you at a faster pace, your walls clenching around him, making him let out a few groans and curses. You were both sweaty and needy––Peter’s cheeks were red, his curls falling over his eyes, his arms straining and flexing as he pounded into you. He looked like a god. 

Your mouth was open, your eyes basically closing, a sheen layer of sweat on your body making your skin shine. Peter could tell you were getting closer, still sensitive from your orgasms and his teasing, it didn’t take long. 

“You wanna cum baby?”

You nodded, panting, “So bad.”

“Such a greedy girl.” He held eye contact with you, thrusting deeply for a few moments before he stopped his hips, making you cry out. “Beg for it.” 

You pouted, hands subconsciously trying to reach to hold his cheeks, but unable to due to the webs holding them back, making Peter smile. “Peter please let me cum baby.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

He tilted his head, licking his lips. “I know you can do much better than that, princess.”

Your brows furrowed in frustration. “Please! I need to cum, I’ve been a good girl.” He stared at you, prompting you to keep going. “Wanna cum and I want you to cum inside me too. Know you want to, can feel you throbbing inside me baby. Please?” Your throat was dry, voice practically shot when you finished. 

Peter just looked at you for a moment before pulling almost all the way out and thrusting into you at full force, making you scream. He started pounding into you, grunting as your walls pulled him in, coaxing him to fuck you harder. 

“This what you wanted?” He grunted out. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your eyes fluttering shut as he brought a hand down to rub at your clit, making your legs tense and tremble around him. He didn’t stop until he brought you over the edge, your whole body vibrating, yelps spilling from your lips, your neck tilted back, inviting him to mark it up. He groaned into your skin, licking, biting and sucking at your neck as he came shortly after, filling you up, making you moan. 

He stayed there for a bit, soothing you with his kisses, his hands running up and down your side before he sat up. 

He pulled out of you and ripped the webs apart, holding your hands and kissing your wrists softly before lying down next to you, cradling you in his chest. You wrapped an arm and a leg around him, sighing contently. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath and settle down. 

After a bit, he spoke up. “So...was that good for you?” He asked sheepishly. 

You looked up at him, smiling. Same old Peter. “That was amazing Pete.” You leaned up and kissed him softly, the two of you melting into each other for a few moments. 

“I’m glad.” He smiled, his hand tracing patterns on your side, the other holding your jaw. “So next time you’re gonna tell me what you need, right?”

You bit your lip, “I don’t know…I kinda wanna see what happens if you find out on your own again.” 

His grip tightened around your waist as he shook his head, laughing quietly, “You’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

[ozarkthedog]

Stuck Between a Rock and a Hard D***

Summary: After a Welcome Home party, you get stuck in a uncompromising position and Chris can’t seem to help himself.

Pairings: Drunk!Chris Evans x Drunk!Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Intoxication. Swearing. Slight Degradation. Confined Spaces. Anal Play.

Word Count: 2,236

A/N: This idea popped into my head and it was so silly I just couldn’t help but write it. I tried to have his “Drunk” state come across hence all the slurring words. Hope it’s not that annoying to read! This drunk Boston boy has “mah” heart. 💙 

No Beta

📖 Master list  

Reblogs and Likes are amazing! Feedback and Comments are encouraged!

Energetic music, copious amounts of liquor and sounds of splashing from the pool filled the dusky sky as the ‘Welcome Home’ party was in full swing on this humid August night.

Chris was finally home after 3 months away and what better than to throw a little bash. Friends and family were sprawled out over the backyard of Chris’ Concord house laughing and carrying on as you sipped on your wine.

You swirled the tart liquid around your tongue and leaned against a patio chair, watching as Dodger ran around with the younger kids. Their screams of enjoyment sounded noisily as they ran from the mutt.

“Get ‘em Bubba!” You heard Chris yell from across the yard.

Beer in hand, cap on backwards and dancing like a fool. Your boy was home.

Warmth filled your belly as you watched him laugh and play a yard game with a few of his friends, all yelling with excitement when someone got the small sack in the hole.

He caught your eyes from across the lush backyard and held it with a sly stare. He licked his lips lewdly knowing what it’d do to you.

You shook your head and drank down the rest of your wine, trying not to get too worked up. There would be plenty of time for that tonight, you smirked to yourself as the pleasant haze of the liquor settled in your belly.

-

After a while, the party started to dwindle. You and Chris gave hugs and bid goodbyes as the night came to a close.

For a moment, you and Chris just stared at one another on the slate patio. A days’ worth of playful glances coming to a head.

You smoothed down your light summer dress, unsure of what to do now that you were finally alone after so much time apart.

The alcohol made his face flush a few shades lighter than the red t-shirt he wore which made him endearing even though his eyes were darkening by the minute.

The amount of lust that radiated off the two of you was hostile, but you pushed it aside as you peered over the various empty beer bottles and half eaten food platters.

“Ugh, we should clean this up.” You picked up an empty beer can before tossing it back onto the table with a laugh.

“Nah, let’s do it tomorrow.” Chris suggested, stalking over to you.

Your breathing escalated as his face held a serious expression despite the slight slurring, “I wanna fuck mah Girl right now.”

You giggled nervously at his tone. The alcohol made everything seem way too funny, but his intense stare had your core clenching.

You knew what would happen if he got his hands on you and you wanted to draw out the yearning just a little bit longer.

“Only if you can catch me!” You shout, before running away like the drunken idiot you were.

You ran up the steps of the patio as carefully as your inebriated self could and crawled through the small dog door Chris had installed for Dodger a year ago.

Halfway through, you heard Chris’s muffled, hysterical laughter through the door. You knew he was doubling over in a fit, which allowed you to more time to crawl through the narrow opening.

You were in the clear as you pushed on the balls of your toes, shimmying your lower half through when suddenly, “OOF!”

Your hips collided with the casing of the small pet door. You started laughing at what a silly idea this was until you moved to pull back and your upper body catches on the frame.

You try again but the door nudges against your armpits causing your arms to flail out in front of you on the den floor.

“Oh, fuck! Chris! I’m stuck!” You yell frantically, kicking your feet on the slate patio.

You try to push yourself through even though you knew your hips were too wide. The small plastic door thumping against your head with every jostle.

“What!?” Chris shouts, incredulously.

 “I’m stuck!” You scream into the empty room as he kneels down next to your torso less frame. 

“Are yah serious?”

“What do you think?!”

Chris busts out laughing again, falling to his hands on the patio. His abs hurt as he tries to stop laughing when you let out a number of swears.

He coughs away the laughter and lays a hand on your lower back. “Ok. Ok. Ok. Ya’ll will be fine. We’ll get yah loose.” He slurred, calming you down through the door.

His hands cover your hips and pulled only to have your armpits halt his actions. “I already tried that you, Meatball.” The buzz from the wine still flowing through your veins.

“What are we going to do?” You utter, finishing with a hiccup.

“I’ll get my tools. But first…” His deep, quiet voice alerted you.

“What is it?” You asked anxiously, thinking one of your friends was coming up the driveway. You’d be mortified if they found you like this.

But then a warm hand slid down the curve of your ass and settled on the top of your hamstring. 

“I’m gonna have some fun.” Chris declared with a playful tone.

Your eyes go wide when you feel him flip your summer dress over your hips and press his growing hard on against your ass. The dark jeans rubbed against your ass with every languid thrust.

“Chris! You can’t!” You shriek upon realizing his intentions.

“Who says? Look at mah girl on all fours, ripe fa the takin’.” His eyes are glassy and ravenous as he grinds against your heat, the thin panties doing nothing to hide your quickly growing arousal.

Your mouth goes slack and eyes flutter when you feel him straining through his jeans. Heady lust swarms your system, taking control regardless of the uncompromising position.

“Looks like someone is enjoyin’ being stuck.” He rasped, unzipping his jeans and sliding his cock head across the soaked material of your panties.

He pulls the drenched thong to the side, groaning when he sees how ready you are. “What a fuckin’ pretty pussy.” He bends down, swiping his tongue threw your folds eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

You slam a hand onto the floor as he prods your core with long licks and lewd slurps. “God, I missed yah taste.” He confessed and nuzzled his face back into your heat. The way his beard scratched over your thighs made your back arch, giving him better access.

Your tight opening clenched when he poked his tongue into your core, thrusting the strong muscle in and out with quick jabs before going lower.

He flicked at your clit with hard swipes causing your belly to somersault. Frantic gasps bounce off the den walls with every stroke forcing your pleasure to mount rapidly.

Just as your bliss was about to peak, Chris pulled back with a slick covered smirk. “Nawt so fast, Sweetheart.”

You whined your frustration and laid your head on the cool flooring. You wiggled your hips in the air desperate for any friction and heard him snicker before he smacked your wandering behind with a heavy thud.

“I ain’t felt this cunt in months.” He stated with a deep growl, rubbing his pulsing crown through your inner lips.

His nails scratch the swell of your naked ass, “And yah only cummin’ when my cock is buried deep inside yah.”

You bit your lip knowing what was coming. The intense energy was palpable all night and it was only a matter of time before you two met in a tangle of limbs.

Chris lines up and ever so slowly pushes into your wanton core.

Your smothering heat enveloped his cock as he split you open with a gravely groan. “Fuck.”

Your head sagged between your arms as you felt your walls stretch around his girth. It’d been too long; you’d forgotten just how big he was. A high pitched mewl slipped from your throat, nails scratching at the floor when he finally bottomed out.

The base of his cock spreading you just a bit more around him. “God, yah cunt is choking the life outta me.”

He pulls back slowly before thrusting all the way in. Your cervix swirls around his bulbous tip making him grunt and grasp your hips with a harsh grip.

The animalistic urge to claim diminished when he felt your walls squeeze around his veiny thickness. His hips bumped against your ass with every stroke lightly knocking your hips against the door. 

You mewled when he parted your cheeks, spreading your pussy even wider for him.

“So many nights I took myself in mah hand picturin’ this sweet, little pussy.” His brows pinch in pleasure hearing your muffled cries of rapture through the door.

“I couldn’t get off hard enough knowin’ I wasn’t balls deep inside yah fillin’ yah with my cum.” His admission made your belly tighten. The knot so close to snapping as his hips shoved into your soaked heat with fervor.

His secure hold on your hips slips from the sweat tainting your skin. He smooths his fallen hand over your ass, spreading it open and exposing your asshole.

Your breath catches when you feel him spit onto your exposed hole, thumbing his saliva around as it clenched under his touch. The groan he let out when he watched your tight ring spasm beneath his thumb was sinful.

You whimpered into the flooring with every thrust of his cock as he teases your puckered rim. “I could finally take this untouched hole and there wouldn’t be anythin’ yah could do to stop me.” Your pussy convulsed around his length at the ominous threat.

“Chris…” Your body arched under his assault when he circled your rim with a meticulous touch.

You lock down with a vice like grip on his length as he drives your orgasm head on. You slap at the flooring and shout out your release all over his meaty cock.

He growls in admiration, “Look at the mess yah made all over me, yah naughty girl.”

He snapped his hips hard causing you to yelp out in painful pleasure, your cervix taking the brunt of each shove. The torturous pain ebbed and flowed with the bliss he was forcing on your worn-out body. Tremors ran up your spine as he pummeled you into another orgasm so close behind the first.

“Wish I could see yah face, bet yah look so wrecked takin’ mah cock.”

He let out a surprised groan as you came around him again, mewling nonsense and shrill yelps from behind the door.

“Fuck! Cumming on mah dick outside where anyone could see.” He smacked your ass eliciting a pained gasp from your lips.

He picked up speed, thrusting into you with a punishing pace intent on driving you to another orgasm with his on the precipice.

Chris gathers some of your cum and drags it around your asshole, making it shine with slick. Your eyes rolled back when he tenderly pushed his thumb into you, feeling his cock pass by through the thin tissue with every shove.

“God, yah so pretty bent over with yah holes filled to the brim.”

He grits, feeling you clench around his girth and frantically calling out for him.

“Come on, cum on mah cock one more time. Give me that sweet cunt.” His thumb pulls on the side your hole, making you feel the stretch and forces your orgasm to explode through your core. Both your holes tighten as you cum, dragging Chris along with you.

His hips slam into yours rapidly, searing pleasure burning through his veins as he cums with a growl. His seed painting your channel, soaking you with him.

He pants heavily as he leans his head on the door, “God damn, I’ve missed this.” 

You whimper from the emptiness when he pulls from your heat.

His cum slipping from your core, staining your inner thighs making you shiver.

“What a sight.”

You hear a shutter click and realize he just snapped a photo. “Chris!”

“Hey, this doesn’t happen all the time. I want somethin’ to remember this.” He slaps your ass making you jolt.

“Believe me, I will never forget this.” You utter with an embarrassed groan and shift uncomfortably on the hard slate. “Chris can you go get your tools, my knees are starting to hurt.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah, here kneel on mah shirt. I’ll be right back.” He rips his shirt off and slides it under your knees before running off to the garage.

You sighed into the floor still dumbfounded that you even though you could fit through the tiny door. The alcohol was slowing wearing off making this predicament even worse just as Chris came back. 

“Chris, are you still really drunk? Should you be working with tools right now?” You asked, leaning your face onto your hands. You really didn’t want him hurting you or himself.

Chris sat back a moment and chewed on his lip. “Yah, know... yah might be right. I only brought a hammer and I don’t think that will work.”

“Fuck.”

“Don’t worry Sweetheart, Imma call Mom she’ll know what to do.” Chris said with a smile, taking out his cell.

You hid your face in your hands with a pitiful groan knowing his family would never let you live this down.

[truckloadoffrogs]

I’ve been thinking about this for like a week sooooo pls consider this a smut prompt for u. Praise kink Bucky with dirty mouth Sam. I mean anywhere that’s not an active battle is grounds for Sam to whisper something filthy in Bucky’s ear, and it annoys the HELL out of everyone cause they know when it happens. You wanna know how they know? Bucky short circuits and his face is the color of raspberries and he’s practically in Sam’s lap whenever it happens

This is only a little smutty, sorry about that, but this got in my head and I had to write it! Also, ignore how this is 3 months late I hope you’re still here to read it, sorry!

Also on ao3

There's a little bit (and I mean a tiny bit) of feminization in here, so if that's not your jam, don't read!

—

Everyone thinks Peter is a kid. Well, I mean, yeah technically he only just turned eighteen, and yeah technically he’s the youngest Avenger by, at the lowest, ten years, and, at the highest, by eighty years (?? how does that work??), but he’s not that naïve. He knows what’s going on.

It goes like this. The Avengers are in a (very important) meeting right after a battle, getting chastised on their dumbass risky plans, all of them yearning to get home and clean off the dust and sweat and blood from their bodies. Peter is sitting in one of the high backed twirly office chairs, trying desperately to focus on how they’ve been “very very bad”, and “a danger to the city”, and trying not to spin the chair around in circles, and think about how he might ask MJ if she wants to get some ice cream after school tomorrow, and how he should maybe invite Ned? Or would that make it too awkward? Or would it be more awkward to have Ned not be there? Or maybe— Right. The meeting. Peter blinks heavily, and straightens in his chair.

A cleared throat across the table grabs his attention, and he glances over. Captain Wilson and Sergeant Barnes are sitting next to each other, Captain Wilson’s knee pressed into Sergeant Barnes’ thigh and his arm over the back of Sergeant Barnes’ chair. Peter can’t really tell who cleared their throat.

Captain Wilson is calm, cool, and collected, his flying goggles pushed to the top of his head and the white head of his suit pushed down around his neck. His shield (The Shield!!!) is balanced on the wall behind him. He looks friendly, if not intimidating, with a serious look on his face but his eyes sparkling.

Sergeant Barnes, in contrast, is in his usual all-black leather outfit, smeared black paint around his eyes, with a clenched jaw and a furrowed brow. Honestly, it scares the shit out of Peter. His metal arm is resting on the table in front of him, reflecting the lights from the ceiling and whirring occasionally as if to intentionally scare Peter more, and holy shit it’s working. He still vividly remembers the fight between him and Sergeant Barnes and Captain Wilson— then-Mr. Falcon— and how he almost beat them but then got his ass handed to him.

Honestly he thought that Captain Wilson and Sergeant Barnes hated each other, based on their ribbing at the airport, but looking at how close they are sitting now that issue seems to have been solved. Well, he thinks, because there is no expression on Sergeant Barnes’ face right now, other than vague anger. Captain Wilson looks positively gleeful though, a smirk flashing across his face as he leans over to whisper in Sergeant Barnes’ ear, and— oh my god.

Now there is definitely an expression on Sergeant Barnes’ face, and that expression is red. His whole face has suddenly just flushed a deep deep red. What the fuck?

Peter tries to turn off his super hearing as much as possible when he’s not patrolling, having heard way too many things he definitely should not have heard, but now he’s too curious to keep his hearing down low. He hesitantly widens his range of hearing, just enough for him to hear what Captain Wilson is whispering to Sergeant Barnes across the table.

“You look so pretty sittin there, Buck. I wish I could kiss you right here, in front of everyone.”

Peter almost gasps out loud. What the actual fuck was going on? Were Captain Wilson and Sergeant Barnes dating? Oh my god. Peter watches as Sergeant Barnes blushed, if possible, even redder, the tips of his ears almost glowing. With the black eye makeup and his dark blush, his eyes were an even bluer-blue than they were before. A tiny pleased smile flickers on Sergeant Barnes’ lips before he tightens them and looks back to where Agent Hill is still on her tirade. The idea of a former Russian assassin blushing because his boyfriend (?) told him he looked cute was just too weird for Peter to handle.

“You wearing the plug I got you, baby? Yeah? You still all wet and sloppy from this morning?” Captain Wilson is whispering so close to Sergeant Barnes’ ear that his lips are grazing the shell of it, tongue almost glancing off the skin. “I could slide right in, you know that right? I could take you to the bathroom and slide right in. No prep, nothing. You’re probably so slick inside it’ll feel like fucking a pussy.”

Sergeant Barnes couldn’t seem to blush any deeper, but his metal hand was starting to whir louder, and his right hand was twitching slightly. He was biting his lip so hard the thin skin around his teeth was white, and frankly Peter was worried he was going to bite right through it.

“Oh, you like that? You want me to call your hole a pussy? I think—”

Aaand that was enough for Peter. God damn. Who knew Captain America had such a mouth on him? Thank god Peter was still wearing his mask because holy shit his face felt like it was as red as Sergeant Barnes’. Peter had stopped listening, but he could see Sergeant Barnes become more and more tense, his eyes flickering from side to side like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to keep pretending to listen to Agent Hill or if he wanted to give up all pretenses and give his full attention to Captain Wilson.

Suddenly chairs were being pushed back, the lights were coming on again, and people were starting to leave the room. Because Peter, Sergeant Barnes, and Captain Wilson were at the end of the table and therefore at the back of the room, they had to wait a bit for the other Avengers and Agents to make their way out of the room before they could. Well, Peter had to. Because Sergeant Barnes and Captain Wilson did not seem like they were going to move anytime soon. Captain Wilson looked about 0.5 seconds away from licking the sweat off of Sergeant Barnes’ neck, and Peter could not get out of the room fast enough.

As he was leaving, he bravely turned around to face Sergeant Barnes and Captain Wilson to ask, “Do you want me to lock the door behind me?”

Captain Wilson looked up in surprise before a big grin spread across his face. “Yeah, why don’t you do that. Thanks, kid.”

Turning quickly, Peter just barely kept himself from slamming the door behind him when he saw Sergeant Barnes get out of his chair and start to climb onto Captain Wilson’s lap.

Well, that was the last time Peter would use his superhearing for anything other than crime fighting. Damn.

--

Let me know what you think!! <3

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: Brandy

*Credit to the gif owner*

Pairing: Dean W. x Fem!Reader

Pov: Deans

Warnings: Drinking, drunk texting, bad dancing, having to rescue Dean, Friends to loversish, Believing in destiny kinda.

Summary: Dean spends the whole night at the bar, tryin' every bottled drink. Ends up drunk texting Y/n and being completely honest with her

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: (Based on the song Wine, Beers, Whiskey by Little Big Town)

Dean Winchester Master List

Main Master List

I sat at the bar of the old bar. It reminded me of Harvelle's. The old smell, the plaid-up men and women that I noticed came walking in through that door.

It was amazing. I was a drinker, always had been. The first drink I had with my dad, I was fifteen. A beer we shared, that should be an amazing moment for father and son, but it was ruined for the simple fact that we had no home, and my father and instructed me to take care of my younger brother.

I grew up, mostly without my father after that. He prioritizes hunting and saving people over me, and over his youngest son. Everything was always secrets. So many secrets, that it's started to become how Sam and I live.

There were certain things that I had learned from my father. How to protect, how to be anger almost all of the time, and how to handle my liquor.

So I sat at the bar, my hand around an iced cold glass of beer. I sipped and watched people. I wasn't in the mood to hook up with any. I mean yeah sure there was probably someone out there that was meant for me, but that's getting into destiny shit.

You know how bars, almost always have music playing. Well being in the good old state of Kansas, so pretty much any place you walk into is playing music more specifically country music.

It started to come through the speakers. I had already been here for what seemed like hours, I had enough beers, that I had switched to drinking something harder.

Something like a whiskey.

"My friend named Jack"

"He's got my back"

"He always seems to know right where I'm at"

Well, this is definitely a song I could get used to listening to. I don't think anybody else was listening. All having their own private conversations. The barmaid was a beautiful young lady, but even still with her crop top of a shirt and the cleavage that was burst out of her shirt.

I wasn't interested in her. Every time she'd come over. "You need anything else sweetheart." Bending halfway down to try and have me look down.

I waved her off. Maybe I should try something else. Waving her back over, I asked "Do you have something stronger?" she looked at me sideways, before saying "If it's something stronger than you want I've got you" and then she walked away.

When she returned with the rest of the bottle of Jose. A half left standing in the clear bottle. "Here's something stronger, forty percent." She said taking my empty beer bottle and empty cup that had been holding the recently downed Jack Daniels.

"My friend Jose"

"He likes to play"

"He's always up for anything I say"

I downed the rest of the bottle, not even needing the new glass she had bought for me to use. Slamming the bottle down on the countertop. She snapped her head around, our eye making contact before she grabbed something off the shelf.

"If that's the type of night you're having you should have said." She said handing me a half empty glass of crown apple. "Thanks, I can handle my liquor so no need to worry about me," I said as she left to take care of other people sitting at the bar.

I sat alone. Like I always have, it was the best way to number one people watch, but it also gave me a reason to think. Nobody trying to pull my belt out of my jean loops. No need to save someone this was my safe haven sometimes.

Alcohol was my safe haven. It's always been that way. It's always been able to understand me ten times more than Sammy. Well I mean there was always Y/n, she lived with us, but she was my friend, my best friends. There is something that she just doesn't need to know.

I took a swig, drinking down most of the bottle.

"Little bit of red, lotta bit of crown"

"Don't matter what it is"

"I'm gonna drink it down, down, down"

Was it just me or was this song getting better by the second. Maybe, It was just me. I looked around me, couples stood dancing to this song, some sat with clasped hands. And the older men sat at the bar, I was an older man sitting at bar watching like a creep.

"The wine, the beer, the whiskey"

"Are the only things that fix me"

"I'm not saying it's a problem"

"I can stop it if I wanna"

"But the wine, the beer, the whiskey"

"They always get me"

Wow, I'm started to get the idea that I can relate to this song. The lyrics are right you know. Liquor is the only thing that can fix me, calms me down and then I sleep it off. It's right the lyrics I can stop if I wanna. But do I really wanna stop?

"Here," The young lady said, handing me a made drink "Here's a gin and tonic." Walking away yet again to take care of other patrons. A gin and tonic, not a drink I was every ballses enough to try.

Taking the little green umbrella out, I took my first sip. "Shit that's actually really good," I said more to myself than anyone else. I looked up from my gin and tonic drink, looking at the glass wall.

It held so many drinks that I hadn't heard of before. Like a new drink called "Screwball", "Kingfisher". Odd brand names but they all looked like awesome drinks. But of course, there was the regular drinks, the brandy, sherry which is a wine, and Jim Beam

"My friend named Gin"

"She's got some friends"

"I'm talking Brandy, Sherry, and their brother Jim"

"Hey, so it sorta looks like we're going along with the song, so I'll grab you a shot of rum, Captain." She said pulling a tiny shot glass out and pulling the bottle off of the shelf.

She slides the small glass across the table, I caught some rum tipping out and falling over my thumb. 'I wonder what Y/n would do if she was here with me? I wonder if I would have her pushed up against the wall, kissing down her neck.'

Shaking my head; stop thinking of her that she... She doesn't think of you in the same way, you are an idiot. Taking my rum-filled shot quickly. I pulled out my phone.

'Don't do what you're about to do'

"I'll be fine," I said to myself. The room was starting to spin. Or maybe I was just spinning. 'Stop thinking about Y/n. She doesn't need to deal with your drunk ass' "Oh come on I'm not that drunk" I was still sitting at the bar, but people were starting to look at me.

>Y/n, you know I've just gotta say. YOu're beautiful.

Dots played at the bottom of my screen.

>Dean that's very nice.

Minutes pass, so I send another message.

>You know I think I'm falling.

Immediate answers came

>Falling?? What do you mean?

>Winchester? Where are you?

She asked, she only ever called me Winchester when she was pissed off, but I was too worried about telling her the truth.

>Y/n, I've spent the past forever fawning over you. I spent it, wanting, yearning for you. I guess after years of wanting you, years after having nobody in my bed. Wishing and hoping that it was you.

>Dean send me your current loca!

>We can talk more tomorrow

I was able to send her my location, she pulled up in a rather crappy car. Walking in distress, her black night shorts, a pair of slippers on, and my red and black plaid shirt on.

She came over, apologizing grabbing my arm, and wrapping it over her head. "Dean, let's go, now," she said dragging me out. "You smell so good Y/n," I said going to pet her hair. She rested me up against the side of the baby.

"Where are your keys, Dean?" She asked her voice starting to become more worrisome. "In my.." I stopped talking and just reached for her hand, shoving it into my jacket pocket. "Right here!" I said I let go of her wrist and she looked up at me.

She got me into the car, somehow. I rested my head against the back of the front seat. "I felt and heard the rumble of baby engine. "Dean, what were you doing?" I looked over at her. "I wanted a drink."

The rest of the drive was quiet, she helped me out of the car after shutting the loud engine off. The sound finally stops bouncing off the cinderblock walls. "Dean. Couch, bed, or table?" She asked.

"Couch, comfier," I said breathing in more of Y/n's scent. I've never been this close to her, for this long. she smelled like a garden of flowers and honey. she smelt of summer. She looked like summer half the time.

"Are you a god?" I blurted out. Her eyebrows creased, licking her lips. "No, Dean I'm not a god," Y/n said reaching around behind the couch and grabbing a blanket but not before untying my boots.

She tossed the blanket over my body and went to walk off. "Y/n?" I asked. "Yes, Dean." She said with a sigh. "Can you get me a water, so I can maybe explain myself?" I asked.

A pleading look on my face, the puppy dog eyes I had learned from Sam. "Fine Winchester, but you've five to explain yourself." She said stomping off into the kitchen, and back with a tall glass of ice water.

She stood next to me. "Can you sit? Please Y/n?" I begged. I sipped on the water, trying to regain any sort of control of myself. She sat crisscrossing her legs. Her exposed legs, my eyes drifted from her legs.

My eyes came back up to hers. "Start explaining Winchester, you've got four minutes." I shook my head, clasping my hands together. I cleared my throat.

"I've sat here for the past few years, wondering why everything seems weird. It's hard. y'know because that song was right in the bar. I don't want to be alone not anymore, I don't wanna watch the couple dances anymore, I wanna be one of the couples, that hold each other hands."

I said, looking at her. She broke our eye contact when she started to fidget with the bottom of my flannel. "You know that's my flannel?" I asked grabbing her hands.

"I want you, I want you in my bed. I want to drink with my girl. I want to love you because Y/n that's really the truth." I said, "I love you Y/n" We sat in silence for a few, "Y/n please say something?" Now I'm begging her, this entire night has been a fucking mess.

"What are you waiting for you dumb Winchester? Come kiss your girl." It only took a few moments for the words to click in my mind. I grabbed the back of her neck and she fell into my lap.

It wasn't like fireworks or lighting coming down. It just fit so well, it was more like finishing a puzzle, puzzle pieces just fitting together so well. A missing part of me found filled and always there for you.

"Dean? Y/n?" I heard Sam said and properly say "Nevermind." And leave. I felt Y/n's lips leave mine. Realizing that I needed air, my lungs burning but in a good way.

"That was something," I said, catching my breath. "That's was awesome!" Y/n said kissing chastely. "Did you hear Sam?" I asked her, she giggled she rolled her. "I bet he's in there going I just knew it," Y/n said. I laughed and hugged.

"My feet hurt, I think I may have blacked out and started dancing by myself," I said, flexing my socked toes. "You dancing!?" Y/n questioned, "Oh we've gotta go back to that bar and get that tape, for FBI reasons." Y/n said.

My mouth gaping open. She laughed more, and she started to have a few tears. "You know Y/n. I'll you back for that, now come on. You'll love the memory foam bed." I said, Whispering closing to Y/n's ear "It remembers you Y/n." My hand landing on her lower as we walked to my room.

Completed on: 05/12/2021

Posted on: 05/14/2021

Dean Winchester Tag List: @akshi8278 @deanswaywardgirl @hit-meup69 @fofisstilinski @doctorlilo @wonderfulworldofwinchester

[spvce-cowboy]

drivers license

francisco morales x f!reader - oneshot

rating: mature

3.1k words

warnings: drug/alcohol use, reader is a dealer, age gap, so much YEARNING!!!

summary: a surprise visit from an old friend

a/n: 100 follower celebration!! partially inspired by this post but also the fact that i have been sing-screaming “drivers license” for oh about four days straight now. thank you guys so so much for all the support so far ! 💕

**

A fist slamming against your front door wakes you from a dreamless sleep.

You push yourself off your mattress, blearily checking the time on your phone and cursing under your breath when you see that it’s almost 3am. You sit up all the way, blinking as you wait to see if what woke you up was something you’d imagined or if it were real.

It’s real. It starts again after a second, three sharp raps against the door, followed by some kind of muffled talking. Your heart rate picks up in your chest, you grab the baseball bat you have leaned against the wall as you reach your apartment door. Squeezing one eye shut, you look through the peephole.

The good thing is that it definitely isn’t the cops. You take a relieved breath, leaning away from the door.

The bad thing is that whoever is knocking is hunched on his knees, just outside of the peephole’s line of sight, so you have absolutely no idea who the fuck it is.

“Please open the door,” the man’s voice begs from the other side of the door. You’re about to yell at him to fuck off, but he interrupts you before you can even open your mouth. “Little flower, it’s me, please.”

The nickname makes your heart go to your throat. The bat in your hands falls to the floor.

You rub a hand over your eyes, huffing an exhale in a vague attempt to prevent your heart from ricocheting against your ribs. It doesn’t work. Because as soon as he says it, as soon as you realize who it is, it brings everything back with him.

A set of sturdy, tanned fingers cupped against the knuckles of your grandfather’s hand, the voice went low in a warm but respectful greeting. You didn’t realize how gnarled your old man’s hands had gotten until you had someone else’s to compare them to. You looked back down at the crumpled up dollar bills you’d just been handed, one of them still rolled. Turning to find your bag on the coatrack, you stuff the money in your back pocket.

“My little flower, this is a good one,” your grandfather told you with a small hum that signifies whatever he just said must be set in stone. You hear the sound of him heavily patting the hand cupped over his own in that way he does when he appreciates the presence of something. “He has a decent head on his shoulders, no?”

“Little flower?” You can hear the boyish smile in that all too familiar voice before you even turn back around. “That suits you well, I think. Florita. I like that.”

“Christ, Frankie, what are you doing here?” You rest your head against the doorframe, heart sinking in your chest. You don’t open the door, to protect him or yourself you don’t know.

“I need—”

“You’ve got a kid now, Frankie. I told you I’m not going to sell to you anymore.”

“Ever the moralist,” the bite to his words is so uncharacteristic you can’t help but flinch. He seems to realize this, too. His apology is nearly immediate. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You’re right. I… It’s not…”

You swallow, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around yourself for some bare semblance of comfort. “Please go,” your voice is so quiet you’re not sure he can hear you through the layer of wood separating the two of you. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Long enough that you nearly think he’s left. Long enough that you don’t know why you’re still standing at the door and not back in bed.

And Frankie says your name, voice cracking. Your actual name. It’s been so long since you’ve heard it come off his lips you can’t help sink into the door.

A held breath leaves you in a shuddering sigh. Your shaking hands open the door.

The man who spills onto the ground before you is a stranger, yet, heartbreakingly, just as he had been when you first met him. Messy hair, worn blue jeans, gray button-down stretching over the perfect expanse of his back. All that is missing this time around is that lazy smile, that easy, Hey, darling.

In a bar. Right when your grandfather started getting sick.

“Eighty,” you said without him having to continue his sentence beyond his syrupy greeting, eyes trained on the shelves of liquor in front of you instead of having to meet his gaze.

He copped an eighth, tucking the little baggie in a pocket on the inside of his jacket. You went back to your drink, angling your body away from him again and expecting him to return to his table of friends. But then the knuckles of his hand nudged the side of you elbow. He gestured to your beer, the neck of the bottle clasped between your thumb and the hook of your middle and index fingers.

“Lemme buy you your next one, yeah?” He had a hunched lean to his posture, in that way that men do when they want you to feel like you’re the only person in the room. You were mad that it worked. He extended a hand. “Frankie Morales.”

The truth of it was that the two of you became friends, after that. Nothing more. Regardless, it was too close for you to get to someone you dealt to, but you were so lonely at that point in your life—taking care of the old man by day, GED classes at night--that meeting Frankie was a small blessing. Nothing ever happened between you two but God you wish it did.

To describe what you felt towards him as a crush didn’t really cut it, but you were fine with friends. Being completely fair, he was definitely one to send mixed signals—Christ, your weekly tradition of driving to an overlook to split an order of fries and milkshakes on the hood of his truck just about screamed every romcom you were raised on. But despite the occasional prolonged touch, the hand he would place on the small of your back to move you out of the way or guide you forward, nothing happened.

You dealt with it. Tried to be supportive as possible when he met his girl. Frankie broke the news that she was pregnant. The two of you saw each other less and less frequently. Sometimes he would call to catch up. Eventually, you stopped answering when he did. Your grandfather died. You got into a local art school.

It was sad how quietly it all faded. You didn’t know it could, but it did.

And now here he is, literally crumpled at your feet.

Frankie messily pulls himself up off the ground and onto his knees. He reeks of booze and old cigarettes. You freeze as his hands wrap over your hips, as he presses his face into your stomach and murmurs an incoherent apology—for what, you’re not exactly sure.

And when you finally processing what’s happening, what you had begged the universe for years, you can’t help yourself. Your card your fingers through his hair, gritting your teeth and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Frankie,” it’s a warning. It’s a reminder. “You’re drunk. You need to go home. Your girlfriend--”

“She left a week ago,” he speaks into the fabric covering your belly. The words burst forwards as if not even he was expecting to say them. It’s a confession. His hands flex from where they hold onto you. “She’s gone.” Your heart drops to your gut, your chest aching. “I need… Just for the night I… Little flower, the house is so empty.”

You keep petting back his hair until his breathing quiets. He keeps holding onto you, even then. The two of you stay like that for a long time.

“Why don’t,” your voice comes out too shaky. Too unsure of itself. You clear your throat and try again. “Why don’t you take a shower, I’ll get you some water and we can sober you up a bit. Okay?”

He tilts his face up at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in well over a year.

And he hasn’t changed. It’s all there—the soft mess of shaggy hair, dark but kind eyes, the beloved hook of his nose.

One sun-sick evening, you rode your bike to the beach just to get out of the apartment. You need somewhere to sit and think for a while, just until your head feels more clear. There’s enough of a chill in the air that you have to throw on a jacket, it’s nice. It’s like you can feel the wind moving through you. Past you.

When you arrived at the beach, you got off your bike, leaning it against your hip as you scoped out a spot to sit in the sand. You were about to wheel it over to the rack when--

Someone pinched your elbow in greeting. Their steps were so quiet you didn’t even register their approach. It, obviously, startled you, and your hand immediately flew to the keychain in your back pocket. The knife you had attached to it.

When you turned, and it was Frankie’s familiar face, his hands raised in joking surrender.

In that light, with the sun still flirting with the horizon, it rendered his face into shapes and shadows you had only previously seen in the old oil paintings of long-dead greats. You thought it was in the deep bourbon of his eyes, soft when illuminated by a tangerine sky. It was him. All of him. Slightly breathless, hair ruffled by the wind.

“Hey, hey, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he sounded genuinely apologetic. You released a relieved huff of air.

“Fucking Christ, Frankie. A little warning would be nice next time.”

“Did you bike the whole way here? From the apartment?” He asked, there was a tinge of concern to his voice.

You shrugged, trying to hide your embarrassment by lowering your kickstand with the heel of you boot. “It’s not that far.”

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Can’t drive,” you wrinkle your nose. “Never needed to.”

He looked you for a moment, if you didn’t know any better you’d say critically.

“I was just about to get something to eat, if you wanna join me,” he tucked his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “There’s this overlook nearby that has a way better view of all of this.” He motions to the ocean with the tilt of his head. “I can drive us there.”

You regarded him as he spoke, cautiously looking him up and down. And you nodded, smiling slightly. He smiled back, it was big and crooked. It made something in the pit of your belly feel warm.

You step away, holding out your hand to help him to his feet. He complies, stumbling slightly and rubbing his hand over his face as he does so. He disappears down the hall without having to ask where the bathroom is.

Sighing, you go back into your room, pulling out a shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants for him to change into. You knock on the bathroom door on your way to the kitchen. The apartment’s walls are so thin you can hear the hiss of the shower from all the way down the hall.

“Come in,” Frankie’s voice barely rises above the sound.

You crack the door open, keeping your eyes trained to the floor as you place the folded clothes on the sink’s counter.

“Here’s something for you to change into,” you tell him. He thanks you, the shower turning off right as you close the door behind you. You walk back down the hall and into the living room, making two glasses of water before settling on your couch.

Once, after a night out, the two of you were too drunk and too broke to afford separate taxis home. He proposed going back to his house, split the cost, grab a cab for you once it wasn’t so late and the rates went down.

You agreed, as you did anytime he extended the offer to spend time there. There was something about the quiet, tucked-in nature of the suburbs that was so novel to you. So calming.

The two of you settled on the couch. Feeling bold, you lay your head in his lap and kicked your socked feet up on the opposite armrest as you describe to him the gallery opening you’d snuck into. How you successfully schmoozed to the owner as well as one of the artists.

He asked you if you had heard back from any of the scholarships you’d applied to. You hadn’t, but you’d only just submitted the applications, so it would be at least a few months wait.

You tell him your dreams of becoming an artist. A real one. He already knew that, but you really tell him this time, all the details you usually keep to yourself, too special to you to have the courage to voice aloud. The fantasy of moving out into the mountains, getting a cabin just big enough for a hotplate and a bed and a studio. You’ve lived and breathed LA for your entire life and you were tired of the city. Tired of every street corner baked with the memories of high school and the listless years that followed, of the small humiliations you had to succumb to in order to survive.

Frankie listened and nodded enthusiastically at all the right parts. It was only then that you realized his hands smoothed over the top of your scalp as you talked. You let it continue, it felt too nice not to.

He told you that you should, and if you needed help finding the money he could always--

You cut him off before he could finish the thought, shaking your head. Responsibilities came first, you had people who needed you. A degree to finish. Savings to maintain. You asked him about the new girl he’d been seeing and he eagerly launches into a story about a different, wild night out. You smile and laugh throughout the whole thing, trying to ignore the pang it gives you when he describes the dress she was wearing. He fingers continued to brush over the crown of your head as he talked.

You fell asleep there, on his lap. You woke up before the sun rose, hot and sweaty and still a little drunk from the vodka Redbulls that never agreed well with your heart.

It took you a second to realize you were in Frankie’s bed, alone. When you padded back into the living room, he was passed out on the couch, a throw blanket wrapped around his shoulders, using his arm as a pillow.

You left after helping yourself to a shower, texting him a sarcastic good luck with that hangover. You’re about to call a taxi home but something stopped you. You thought it might be the way the sun was barely breaking over the cusp of the smoggy horizon, the sky reduced to pale shades of violet with the coming dawn.

The quiet neighborhood Frankie lived in is all the more beautiful, like this. Subdued, empty, houses in winding but even rows that scale up the mountainside like sets of bad teeth. You decided to walk, just until the sun got a little brighter. Until the people started to shake themselves awake for a new day.

You got a text from him as you were making breakfast, back at your apartment by then. Thanks. Hope you slept well, little flower. Something about the small missive kept you smiling the whole day after.

You mess with your phone until Frankie returns.

“I’m sorry, for showing up like this,” Frankie says as he hovers over the living room’s threshold. The clothes you leant him fit well enough, only slightly oversized on his frame as opposed to how they generously drape off of you. He holds his towel in his hands, looking down at it instead of you.  “I honestly don’t have an excuse and you… you shouldn’t accept any. But I thought I should still tell you.”

You look at him for an extended beat, knowing he’s being honest. You’re at a genuine loss as to how to handle the situation.

“We can deal with it later,” you settle with that. It sounds good enough to you, and when he finally meets your eyes again he looks a little relieved. You nod you head towards the glass of water you placed on the coffee table, he takes your lead and settles on the opposite side of the couch, leaning over to take his own glass.

“So um… how are you?” He asks you earnestly, angling his body towards you.

“Okay,” you take a sip of water, trying to keep it casual. “Cleaning up my act a bit, you know? Going to school, picking up jobs here and there. Trying to figure out what I want to do. Oh! I uh… I learned how to drive--impressive I know.”

“The city flower herself, operating a vehicle?” His face breaks into a familiar, goofy smile you can’t help but reciprocate. “I’ll add every pedestrian in LA to my prayers.”

“You should,” you shake your head as you laugh, leaning into your corner of the couch and pulling your knees up to your chest. You finally relax, giving yourself the small allowance of settling into the comfort that inevitably comes with his presence.

And it really is just as easy as it always has been between the two of you. The conversation naturally ebbs and flows, neither of you bother to broach the heavier stuff. For now, just this it’s enough.

It’s enough to see the spark in his eyes when he tells you about his daughter, how bright she is, how much trouble she gets into—just like her dad. It’s enough to hear about his friends, all those names and backstories that you still vividly remember. It’s enough to bask in the feeling of how he leans into you with laughter, a hand lingering on your knee for seconds longer than it probably should have, as he always tends to do.

It’s enough to see him grin when you tell him about the scholarships you got, how weird it felt being the oldest person in all your classes, even if it was only by a handful of years. He doesn’t ask how your grandfather is, the living room being cleared of all the heart monitors and breathing machines is enough to answer that question. You’re grateful he doesn’t. You’re not sure you’d be able to keep a brave face if he did.

You don’t want time to pass. You want to stay here, with him, like this, in that perpetual state of catching up, in that breathless deluge that has the not-so-subtle undercurrent of this is what has happened since you left. I wish you would have been there. But I am so happy you are here now.

When you can no longer stifle your yawns, you stand to refill your glass of water, speaking on your walk over to the sink.

“I’d love to keep talking but I honestly don’t think I can keep my eyes open much longer,” you tell him as you turn the tap off. “I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

When he doesn’t immediately respond, you turn to look back at him. He’s staring at you from where he is seated, eyes dark with something that isn’t just from the low light of the living room.

“What?” You ask after a few more seconds of him not responding. He looks away from you, shaking his head.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Your eyes search his for a moment, positive that that was not at all what he was turning over in his head during those few seconds of silence. You’re too tired to press, so you gather a spare set of sheets for him. He stands when you come back into the living room, holding out his arms to take them from you. You wave him away, setting up the pull-out bed yourself. You’d grown up sleeping on this thing, tucking the fitted sheet into the corners was always tricky, and he didn’t know where the bolts of the couch’s frame would cut the shit out of his hands if he wasn’t careful.

Throwing a pillow down, you turn back to Frankie. He’s standing closer to you, now. You have to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes.

“All set,” you tell him. He nods, eyes searching your face for a moment. Your brow furrows. “Frankie, you’re being weird. Stop it.”

His chuckle breaks the tension.

“Sorry—I’ve been saying that a lot tonight, haven’t I?” He takes a deep breath. You’re smiling again, about to agree with him, and without warning his hand is comes up to cup the side of your face. You still, lips parted in an unasked question. “Thank you, little flower,” his voice goes rough again, as it had when you were speaking to each other through the door. “I really mean it.”

Frankie’s hand drops when you nod, lips pressed together. He sits back down on the pull-out. You wish him goodnight quietly and return to your room.

Leaving your bedroom door cracked open, you climb back into bed. With everything in you, you hope he’s still there when you wake. He will be.

[pparkerpoetry]

A Son Not Worth Saving

Summary: [“Cut them off.” Tommy said harshly. “I don’t want to look at them. I hate everyone they’re connected to, so I want them gone. Permanently.”]

-or-

Tommy grows wings, and Phil doesn't stick around to help. He discovers the consequences of his neglect, but it's too late. Too late to do anything.

___

It was after Doomsday. Things were tense, and Tommy just wanted a rest. He and Tubbo had gone to his little dirt hut for the night, and though it wasn’t the cleanest place, it was warm enough. 

His back had been itchy during the fight, but he’d passed it off as nerves. Now, though? The slight itch had progressed to a small ache, then a stinging, then agonizing pain. He was on his stomach, arms pressing into the dirt floor, crying as Tubbo tried to figure out what to do. 

“What’s wrong? Tommy, what’s wrong?”

Tommy shook his head. “Tubs, it hurts, make it stop, please,” He sobbed, his fist aimlessly grabbing at small tufts of grass that had grown, despite everything.

“I’m trying, but this is way out of my area of expertise!” Tubbo panicked. “I… I think I’m gonna have to call Philza, or something, I don’t know what to do!”

“Are you crazy?” Tommy yelled. “Don’t call Phil! He’s not gonna help, he just blew up- Don’t call Phil!” 

Tubbo laughed, but it was stressed, “What else am I gonna do, Tommy? I- I don’t know, it kinda seems like you’re growing wings, and-”

“Wings?” Tommy’s disbelief was cut off by a shriek of pain. “I dunno, call Quackity? Doesn’t he have those little chicken wings?”

“Duck, Tommy!”

“I’m on the floor, I can’t duck anymore, Tubbo.”

Tubbo chuckled, but it was high-pitched and panicked. “No, he has duck wings. I definitely need to call Phil, I’ll be right back.”

Tommy tried to reach out, he didn’t want Tubbo leaving, but instead, he just curled into a ball and whimpered. He could catch snippets of the conversation, and it didn’t seem to be going well.

__

“Hi, Mr. Minecraft, Sir? I know it’s a bad time, because you just blew up my whole nation, but, uh,”

A sigh echoed from the other end of the call. “What d’you want, Tubbo?”

Tubbo giggled, but you could tell it wasn’t a casual one. “Well, you see, Philza, uh, I think Tommy-”

“Really? You’re gonna call me about Tommy? Tubbo, thanks for the call, but I gotta go-”

“No, you don’t understand, I think he’s growing wings. I- I need your help.”

Philza didn’t screech. But it was kind of close. “What? He’s growing wings? Tubbo, I hate to break it to you, but I doubt it, and I’m in the arctic anyway,”

Tommy’s whimpers grew louder, and must’ve reached the phone. Phil sighed, heavy and weighted. “Tubbo, I-”

“Please, the only person I could call was Quackity but I figured you’re kind of Tommy’s dad and all-”

“Fine. Tubbo, I’ll be there in a bit. Just- don’t touch his back. Okay?” He hung up, and Tubbo went back to Tommy.

His condition had worsened. He was on the floor, forearms pressed against it as he struggled to keep his head up. “Tubbo?”

Tubbo moved to him, letting Tommy put his arms around his neck in an awkward hug as he cried. “Yeah, Tommy. It’s okay, It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.”

“Tubbo, I think- I think I’m gonna sleep- pass out, it hurts,”

As much as Tubbo tried to keep Tommy awake, by the time Philza arrived, Tubbo was struggling to hold up an unconscious Tommy. His face looked peaceful, almost. It was the first rest he’d gotten in a long time, but the dried streaks of tears that were there told him it wasn’t a good rest.

Philza looked almost awkward in the small hut. “Tubbo, you should probably leave, I’ll handle this.”

Tubbo wanted to trust Phil, he really did. But something was off about those eyes. Something made Tubbo need to stay here. To monitor. To make sure that Tommy was going to be okay.

“No, that’s fine. I’ll stay here.”

Phil hummed. “Which one of us has wings? You should leave, Tubbo.”

“Which one of us sided with his abuser to blow up the one thing he had left of Wilbur?” Tubbo hissed. “I’m staying here.”

It was quiet, except for the whines that Tommy let out as he clutched at Tubbo. Phil didn’t really do… much, at all. Sure, he had a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, but Tubbo was the one whispering comforting thoughts, Tubbo was the one crying in sympathy, Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo.

Why had he called Phil again?

Oh, right.

Tommy woke up when the skin on his back started stretching and they had to tear off his shirt. There was a better way to describe it, but Tubbo started to panic more and couldn’t really think about it. 

“Phil, Phil is this supposed to be happening?”

Phil nodded slowly, and was going to say something, but Tommy managed to slur out some words. “Phil- Dad, is that you?”

Tubbo spoke up when it was clear that Phil wasn’t. “Yeah. Yeah, he came to help you.”

Tubbo hated lying to Tommy. Calling Phil had been a bad idea.

When the skin on Tommy’s back started to show that something was growing underneath it, Phil started to do what he was called here for. “Alright, Tubbo. This is what’s going to happen next. The things right here are the frames of the wings, pretty much. There’s not going to be any feathers yet, those need to grow wings, but there is going to be a lot of blood,” He got up and dusted off his robes. “You’re going to be fine, but I really need to go,”

“What?” Tubbo yelled. “You’re leaving?”

Phil shrugged. “I’ve got some important stuff to get to. I can’t just hold your hands all the way through it.”

“You- Tommy’s important! You can,” Tubbo protested. “You're his father! You can’t just leave!”

“I did years ago,” Phil said, “And he turned out fine. Besides, Wilbur was more his father than I was.”

“Maybe you think so, because of how shittily you treated him!” Tubbo growled. “But whether you want to acknowledge it or not, he was your son.”

Phil shrugged, turning to look at Tommy, who was crying, reaching out for something he’d never get. “He’s not my son. Never was. Even if he was, there’s not much worth saving in him, is there?”

“Get out.” Tubbo mumbled. “Go hang out with Technoblade, cause I know that’s where you’re going. If I ever see you around here again, I’ll kill you.”

“You’d have to get through Techno.” Phil said, clearly amused.

Tubbo turned to look Phil in the eye, and Phil knew he wasn’t lying. “I’ll kill him too.”

____

Tommy didn’t remember what happened. One minute he was on the dirt floor and his dad- Phil was there, and the next he was on a bed, with Quackity and Tubbo.

“Tubs?” He croaked.

Tubbo moved over. “Hi, you’re awake, hi! Are you doing okay? How’re you feeling?”

Tommy blinked, his eyelids heavy. His back ached. “My back is sore. Where’s dad?”

“I should hope your back hurts,” Quackity laughed. “You just grew wings.”

“But where- where’s Phil?”

Tubbo wouldn’t meet Tommy’s dazed gaze. “He can’t be here right now. Had to leave.”

“Probably some bullshit excuse about something important.” Tommy sighed. “Right? He always does that. Always has. Don’t know why I hoped it would be different.”

Quackity frowned. “On the plus side, hermano, you’ve been out for a bit and have already got some feathers! It’s just the fluff though, so they look really cute.”

“What the- no, I don’t wanna look cute, I’m a big man!” Tommy tried to protest, but Quackity laughed more.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but they all fluffed up and-” He doubled over, and Tubbo managed a small smile.

Tommy swallowed, and sat up. He had to turn around, since he’d been on his stomach, but he was met with the familiar view of his bedroom. “Can I have some time alone, please?”

“Okay,” Tubbo said reluctantly. “But shout if you need anything, okay?”

Tommy said he would, and then as soon as the two others left, started crying. He remembered what Phil had said, even if he’d been listening while in immense pain. For as long as he could recall, he’d just wanted a family. People to love him. People to care about him. People to look at him and support him when they noticed he was down. 

He used to have that. Or maybe not, maybe he was just remembering it wrong. Glorifying the small amounts of affection that Phil had given him. God, Phil really never cared, did he? He just went on with Techno, trusting Wilbur to take care of the child. 

It hurt more that Phil had killed Wilbur than it did Phil disowning him. He knew deep down that it would’ve happened eventually, but he wished it hadn’t been so soon. Tommy knew he had a small family, right outside his door, but he couldn’t help but yearn for the family he used to be a part of. 

Everything in his room reminded Tommy of Philza. If he was going to go and pretend that he was fine, that he could leave his old family behind and love the new one, then he didn’t want the reminders.

Out went the old photo of the four of them, Tommy’s smile reflecting Phil’s, the glass breaking in the trash can. Goodbye to the scarf that hung on the wall with his other winter stuff that Phil had bought for him when they visited a village together. One of the only gifts that he’d ever gotten, while Techno paraded around with swords and jewels and everything that Tommy wanted. Tommy put on a beanie that Quackity had given him a while ago instead, covering the hair that so matched his father’s. 

Away went the pale blue cloak that carried memories of an arctic kingdom. Adios to the little gold bracelet that Techno had given to him to convince Tommy to leave him alone. 

Finally, when he stood in an empty room, all the reminders gone, he looked in the mirror. 

And, he saw his wings.

His wings- the soft feathers stretching into a huge wingspan, pale and hiding what colors the true feathers would be. God, he hoped they weren’t grey.

His wings were perhaps the biggest connection he had to Phil. They were the last tie that he needed to sever. 

Tommy thought it over. He didn’t want his decision to be rushed, or hasty, but he knew what he wanted. It was a few days later, when he was taking a walk with Tubbo, that he finally let his desire be known. 

“Tubbo,” He started, seemingly unaware of the shadow in the woods that watched them. “Do you like my wings?”

“Of course I do,” Tubbo replied, looking over. “Why?”

“Oh, well, I was just thinking they reminded me of Phil, a lot. And, considering he disowned me, I don’t like the reminder of a family that doesn’t love me.”

Tubbo frowned. “What are you trying to say?”

Tommy took out an axe, and shoved it into Tubbo’s hands. “I want you to cut them off.”

“What?”

“Cut them off.” Tommy said harshly. “I don’t want to look at them. I hate everyone they’re connected to, so I want them gone. Permanently.”

“If it’s… Are you sure that’s what you want?”

The grey-winged watcher didn’t stay any longer.

___

Philza visited Tommy the next day. Tommy was planting flowers outside of his house, which was remade out of wood, now.

“I see you’ve been busy.” Phil said, and Tommy scoffed.

“Why’re you here?”

Phil sighed. “I just… I’m scared I was too harsh. I wanted to apologize.”

Tommy’s back was covered with a bright red cloak. “You’re a little too late for that.”

“What do you mean?” Phil asked, fear settling down a little.

“All the times you could’ve apologised, and you choose now. I mean, of course you would.” Tommy said, sitting against the walls and looking up at Phil. “You could’ve come home from any of your adventures and been a better father. You could’ve helped Wilbur and I make a country of our own, ‘cause we had no idea what we were doing. You could’ve stopped Techno from killing Tubbo, because he only listens to you. You could’ve taken me home when Wilbur started keeping me from leaving our little ravine. You could’ve stopped Wilbur. You didn’t have to kill him.” Tommy started crying a little, and Phil sighed.

“I’m sorry, Tommy, but I had no idea-” 

“And whose fault is that?” Tommy screamed. “I sent you letters the whole time. I knew you’d never read them- maybe that’s why when Dream was abusing me I put every little detail into those little slips of papers. I said what I was really feeling in those letters when I couldn’t admit it to myself. You could’ve taken me down from that pillar. You could’ve realized what was going on when I had panic attacks every time you shut the door a little too loudly. You aren’t stupid. You just don’t care- and that’s why you sided with Dream to destroy the one place that I could truly call home. It’s your own fault that our relationship is irreparable, because you had chance after chance after chance to be my father, and you ignored them. Ignored me. No, Philza Minecraft, it’s far too late to apologise.”

“Do you still have them?” Phil asked softly.

“What, the wings?” Tommy scoffed again. “Of course that’s what you’d ask. Making sure I’m still under your control. Well, Phil, no.”

“No, what?” Phil asked, temper flaring. “Do you have them or not?”

“I know you were in the woods, eavesdropping.” Tommy said. “No, I’m not under your control anymore, Philza.” He took his cloak off, and Phil gasped. 

Tommy’s wings were still there. They were beautiful, too. Striking reds and oranges and yellows- a painting of a sunset as a symbol of the ending chapter. “You kept them.”

“I did.” Tommy said, glaring at Phil. “Not for you, though. I was going to let Tubbo chop them off, but I decided that I could go through the pain of losing them after just growing them and have them always in my mind, or,” He tilted his head. “I could keep them. Claim them as mine, learn to fly while you’re grounded forever. I think keeping them hurts you more than it does me- to know that I’m soaring above all of your bullshit, on wings that you gave me, would crush you, I think.”

“Aren’t you still my son, though?” Philza pleaded.

Tommy laughed. “I haven’t been since you walked out the door with Technoblade and left me alone with Wilbur for an entire year, missing my birthday that you promised you’d be at, without so much as a card. I haven’t been your son since you decided to prioritize everything over me, and I certainly am not your son now, when it only benefits you. Bye, Phil. I think you should leave.”

“Tommy, I-”

“You heard him,” came a voice from the doorway. Quackity stood there, arms crossed. Tubbo was behind him. “You should leave. It’s almost time for our family dinner, anyway.”

Phil took a step back. “They’ll never be your true family, Tommy.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Tubbo mentioned. “His biological family kinda treated him like shit.”

Tommy laughed, and patted Tubbo on the shoulder as he went inside. “Bye, Phil. Tell Technoblade I told him to fuck off, will you?”

The countryside echoed Tommy’s laughter as Phil went back to his own home. Apologising was worth a try, but Tommy had been right. He really didn’t care, did he? Maybe that was a realization for another day- Techno needed help with the next farm he was making, after all.

[batarella]

The Commander - Bucky’s Time (Arkham Knight x Reader x Winter Soldier)

IT’S BUCKY BARNES MY DUUUUUUUDES. YES THE COMMANDER IS HOT STUFF AND THE BADDEST BITCH THERE IS WHICH ONLY MAKES SENSE THAT SHE GETS TO HAVE TWO OF THE HOTTEST MEN ALIVE. 

THIS IS SET IN THE TIME BETWEEN THE COMMANDER CHAPTER 1 AND CHAPTER 2. ALSO A VERY SINFUL FIC. PLS READ THE WARNINGS. (I’m not gonna mention about me going to hell cuz I’ve been running it the past few weeks lets be honest)

WORDS: 8124 (DID I HAVE TOO MUCH FUN WITH THIS? FUCK YEAH) WARNINGS: VIOLENCE. FIREARMS. COMBAT. INTOXICATION. THREESOOOOOOOOOME (ORAL SEX BOTH or should I say all three RECEIVING, VAGINAL SEX, FINGERING, DOUBLE PENETRATION)

MASTERLIST

THE COMMANDER - MASTERLIST

-----

“You’re gonna love him. He’s gold.”

“Then why am I only hearing about him just now?”

“He was based in Sokovia.”

“Sokovia?”

Slade enthusiastically pushed the double doors open. Deathstroke, the Arkham Knight, and the Commander stormed down the empty halls, all the way down to the combat grounds where Slade said this new recruit was waiting.

“How’d you get him to join the militia?” Commander Y/N asked. Slade didn’t turn. “He came to Venezuela for some other shit. Asked him if he wanted the extra cash.”

“The amount this guy is asking for definitely isn’t extra cash,” the Knight’s eerie voice filtered.

“He was Hydra’s best man. What do you expect?”

The Commander’s eyes shot up. “HYDRA???”

At the sight of their superiors the men’s muffled voices faded out, and there were salutes, whispers, and shushes. Slade led them into the crowded combat grounds where several of her men were in the middle of sparring sessions. The Commander nodded at them to carry on.

And when they went further into a flock of soldiers circling a rather familiar figure standing in the middle, Commander Y/N felt her whole bodily system stiffen in cold ice. The long, ruffled hair. The metal arm. The machine gun strapped to his shoulder. There was no denying it.

“Barnes.”

He turned around.

Slade placed his arm on his shoulder. “Knight. Our newest recruit. The Winter Sold-“

“BUCKY?!”

Everyone turned their heads at the Commander. Bucky Barnes, the said prized soldier, lost his calm, brooding façade the minute he locked into Y/N’s eyes and shot up with the same astounded gape on his face. Bucky removed the mask covering his mouth. “Y/N???”

One. Two. Three painfully long seconds.

Not one person in that room dared to move a muscle.

“Uh,” Slade stepped in between them. “You folks know each other?”

The Commander ran her teeth through her lips and coughed out the itch in her neck. She looked away from everyone’s prying eyes.

Bucky did the same. “We, uh-“

“I was called into Sokovia about a year ago,” the Commander started. “Bucky- The Winter Soldier here needed a sniper to cover him on a few melee assassinations.”

“So Hydra hired Y/N,” Bucky continued. “We worked together.”

The Knight turned his visor at the Commander, who was too occupied biting back a smile as she stared at Bucky. He looked just as irresistibly rugged as the last time she saw him.

Slade managed a laugh. “Whatever. Knight, give him everything he wants. We don’t know how long he can stay but let’s just hope it’s after we finish in Gotham. I’ll leave you to it.” Then Deathstroke left.

Bucky held his AK with his other hand and extended his impressive metal arm at the Arkham Knight. He stepped in, head held high, then took it.

“The Winter Soldier.”

“That’s what they call me.”

Y/N looked at Bucky, at the Knight, then bit both her lips.

“Nice arm.”

“Mmm,” Bucky growled.

“Decent profile as well,” the Knight said. “Experienced. Heavily trained. Been here for the last few decades. You a metahuman?”

“Super soldier.” Bucky held his gun tighter, looking straight at the Knight’s visor. “Hydra’s serum.”

The Commander didn’t know if the Knight’s groan that followed was from being impressed or repulsed at that.

“Sergeant Whitman will show you to your quarters. We have a few weeks left here before we head to Gotham. Tomorrow, you show us what you got. Then I decide where to put you and your terms.”

“Slade and I already settled my price.”

“I think your price is preposterous.”

“I was told your militia needed a guy like me badly.”

“I’ve never even heard of you until today,” the Knight said.

“Either I get what Wilson promised me or I go.”

“I get the final say.”

Bucky stepped forward. “I’m not here to negotiate.”

“Neither am I.”

“For fuck’s sake,” The Commander pushed on the Knight’s armored chest. “Beckett. End the sparring. We’re done for the day.”

The Sergeant saluted Commander Y/N and went over to the soldiers at the grounds.

“Knight,” her voice lowered. “Be nice.”

“So you worked with the Commander?” the Knight crossed his arms.

“Commander, huh?” Bucky smiled at Y/N. She smiled back with a bite in her lip.

“For how long?”

“A week. In the deserted high mountains just outside of Sokovia,” she said in a weirdly high-pitched tone, as if she were sighing, yearning for the times.

“Deserted?”

“It was just us two,” Y/N said.

Bucky was still eyeing the Commander up and down with a quirk up his brow. “You really leading this army, Y/N?”

“Were you expecting any less?” she smirked.

“My god, you haven’t lost your touch, kitten-“

“KITTEN?!” The Knight stammered. Y/N side eyed the Knight and rolled her eyes, before grinning back at Bucky.

By then, almost everyone in the grounds had left. The Knight, glaring at the both of them behind his visor, stepped back and scoffed. “Just get him to his quarters.”

“Oh, I will…” she breathed, her eyes locked into Bucky’s. He strapped his gun to his back and reached over to Y/N. By then, they heard the doors slam closed and they were alone.

The Commander joyously yelped as she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck, letting him carry her up in the air in a tight bear hug. His metal arm was careful around her waist, and with a smile just as bright as hers, he laughed. Even as he placed her back down on the ground, Y/N continued to hold him close.

“God, I missed you.”

“Never thought I’d see you again.”

“You’re the one who left, jackass.”

“Sorry,” he ran his metal finger down her neck. “You know how it is-“

“I know,” she whispered. “Are you coming with us to Gotham?”

“Hope so. What’s with the Batman mock up?”

“The Arkham Knight. He put this all together,” she said. “Some revenge plot against Batman he won't say.”

He snorted. “Figures.”

“How…” she raised her arms in astonishment. “I thought you wouldn’t be able to remember me.”

“I got out of Hydra just after our mission. They didn’t get to brainwash out that very memorable week-“

“Memorable, huh?” she smiled. “You have to stay, Buck. The Militia definitely could use a guy like you.”

“Well,” he cupped her jaw, then his long hair fell to his cheeks the way that made her head spin in circles. “Now that I know you're here, I just might.”

She leaned in, inhaled that musky, rugged scent that sent her guts flying and her eyes glancing down at his lips. “Wanna hang out in my room?”

“You sure that Knight fella’s not gonna mind?”

“Mind?” she laughed.

“Come on, don’t hide it, kitten. You’re sleeping together.”

She punched his good arm and he chuckled. “Lower your fucking voice.”

“Shit,” he smirked. “Seems like you have a type.”

“We did it once. And we promised not to do it again.”

“Ah. At least I had you for a whole week-“

“Have I ever told you how hard it was firing a mile away from my target with you breathing down my neck?” she said.

“Kitten, I definitely wasn’t just breathing.”

Bucky traced his thumb down her lip, but Y/N pulled away. “My room. Not here.”

She stopped herself from holding his hand on the way back up to the quarters, especially when there were men around who could have seen them. Bucky was just as gorgeous as he had been. His big blue eyes, incredibly muscled build, his long, scruffy hair she still fantasized running her fingers through. And Though he wasn’t as tall as the Knight, he looked just as equally terrifying, menacing, intimidating,

And painfully hot.

They reached the Commander’s quarters and locked the door. The minute it was safe, Y/N pushed Bucky against the wall and kissed him as violently as she were beating him up. “Fuck, I missed this…”

They tore off each other’s armor. His metal arm, snaking up her back to trace the line of her spine, she let him grab onto her ass, then the back of her thighs, before hoisting her up around his hips.

She cried as her ass hit the table, and Bucky cleared everything on the surface. She threw her head back, legs spread wide, and let the brewing hotness in the air take over her core.

Fuck, did she miss that metal arm.

-----

One hundred men. The first batch out of a few others. They were lined up just beneath a string of trees and shade at the edge of a wide-open field, a few minutes away from the barracks where they’d fixed a training ground out of crates, barrels, and sacks stacked on one another. The day was bright, not a cloud watching from above. It was large enough to be the size of a football field, and usually they came here for shooting ranges and obstacle courses.

The Arkham Knight stood in the middle, arms tucked behind his back. The Commander was at his side standing straight and tall.

“If you are here, it means you’re not as well-trained as the others,” the Knight continued with his speech that had been going on for the last few minutes. “All of you should know that the alpha target isn’t the only threat to worry about. There will be thugs around Gotham. The GCPD. And you’re all gonna have to fight each other. After our demonstration, it will be you against everyone else. In batches of ten, you will fight in this field-“ the Knight pointed. “And the last man standing gets to move up a rank.

“New guy. Get over here.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, walked over from his place leaning against one of the tree trunks, then stood right beside the Commander. She smirked.

“It’s me versus the Commander versus the Winter Soldier. You can use your guns. Just make sure you keep away from the head.”

The most dangerous type of training session there was. But only if it were with anybody else than the three.

The Commander pulled out her AK from her back, pulled on the barrel while cocking her hip. Bucky licked his lips while staring at her and did the same with his own gun.

The Knight, noticing it all, screamed. “Get to it!”

“Good luck,” Bucky whispered into her ear.

The air was a smoky, earthy musk, one that calmed her nerves the way she needed them to with her eye dead focused onto the scope. A few minutes had passed, and still there was silence. The Commander walked into a pile of sacks and waited patiently for any whip of a sound.

She heard gun shots. A few yards away. The Commander hopped onto the pile and caught sight of the Knight just narrowly missing Bucky’s metal fist aiming for his head. She pointed her gun at them and fired at their legs.

They noticed in time, fleeing to cover at the racket her bullets were making flying everywhere in the field. She reloaded her gun, eye on her scope, then fired at the wooden cover she saw the Knight roll into. But he wasn’t there.

She turned to her left, and just as she saw Bucky aiming right at her, she rolled down the heaps of sacks and landed on her back. Sparing no time to pull herself up, she hid behind the pile and stretched her neck. The Commander laid her head back, listened for any more gunshots, and once she heard more, no longer aiming at her, she crawled out.

She made sure her back was covered, then continued maneuvering through the field. Following the sounds of the Knight’s guns, she crouched over and held tightly onto her AK.

She was sure she’ll catch sight of the Knight at just a sharp turn to her right, where a barrel was covering her just barely.

The gun fire stopped. He was reloading. Commander Y/N stepped out and opened fire.

Bucky had gone away, and it was just the Knight, taking cover at one of the crates. Just a split second after the Knight held out his gun and fired back. So she hid, holding the gun with just her one hand and blindly fired at the crate.

Except, she wasn’t exactly blind. Not with her.

At the sound of the Knight’s faint hiss, the Commander smirked.

More gun shots. Coming from her far right. Bucky was on top of the barrels and was opening fire at both her and the Knight. She rolled over to a cement block and reloaded what was left of her gun. The Knight, no longer where she left him, had gone. But Bucky was firing at a pile of sacks near her. He must be there in hiding.

But she couldn’t go after him. Not with Bucky on watch.

The Commander crawled under covers where the Winter Soldier wouldn’t be able to see her, moving so quietly he must’ve thought she hadn’t left at all. She reached his right. Far enough to be out of his line of sight.

She whistled at him, then fired at his metal arm. The bullets bounced off him but it wasn’t without flinching at the impact. The Commander hid behind a crate just as Bucky turned his attention to her and rolled his shoulder. “You're gonna regret that!”

“Sure!”

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Bullet after bullet. Bucky kept on his heightened stance, with Commander Y/N barely being able to get away from her cover. She managed to land a bullet or two on his arm again, but it only delayed him by a few seconds before he’d start firing again.

She peered over, ever so slightly just to see where he was, then the Commander saw the Arkham Knight creep over from behind him, landing a good punch right at Bucky’s face to send him toppling over to the ground.

Her AK was out of bullets. She had to throw it out. The Commander pulled out her two pistols, loaded them, then stepped out into the open.

She rolled on the ground just narrowly avoiding the Knight’s shots at her, firing a few of her own when she could. The Commander hid behind barrels. They were so close to each other. And it was impossible to run away now. The Knight started firing at Bucky, who was firing at her. She had one chance.

The Commander waited for that one moment where Bucky had to reload before running up the tallest pile of sacks standing between the two, vertically until she was up in the air, then she flipped over so fast, not a single bullet came close to her body. Her arms outstretched, her eyes making the quickest glances, she fired both guns.

Two shots. It was all it took. She managed to hit Bucky’s metal shoulder and the Knight’s ankle. They both hissed and stopped for the one split second she needed, then she fired at their hands. Both guns dropped to the grass.

When she got to the ground, she grabbed one of the sacks, threw it at Bucky, then used her leg to swipe at the Knight’s discarded gun and fling it across the field. Bucky was on the ground, and just as he stood up, his gun had been thrown away as well.

The Commander, the only one left armed, held her guns at both of them. The Arkham Knight on her left, the Winter Soldier on her right.

“I win,” she panted.

But, instead of holding their arms up to surrender, the Knight and Bucky looked at her, then at each other. She would have moved if she was expecting them to conspire.

Bucky was first to charge, but his metal hand blocked her incoming bullets at almost every direction she fired. The Knight took it as a chance to grab her wrist, hold it up in the air before she could fire. Then the Commander elbowed her way out of his grip. He squeezed on her hand, painfully so until she lost her hold on the gun, then the Knight threw it out of the way.

With just one gun left, she aimed it at the Knight, arms up to surrender.

Then Bucky grabbed her in a headlock and kneed her down until she could no longer stand. She grunted, but his fucking metal arm was like trying to move a cement wall off the ground. The Knight charged after her.

Then she used his brick-wall like body to hoist her legs up, pushing her feet against his armor so her boots eventually made their way up to the Knight’s visor. Locking her knees on his head, she head-butted Bucky until he released her from his grip. Her hands landed on the ground, then she flipped over to fling the Knight to the grass, landing on his head.

She won't last so long. Not without her guns. These men will beat her at combat into a bloody fucking pulp.

She dodged, rolled, and backed away before either of them could land a hit. She saw Bucky grab a sack with his one metal arm, then he flung it over to her, sending her flying until her back met a crate. “Fuck!”

“How’d that feel, kitten?!”

The Knight, his words angering him even more, charged after Bucky and pinned his arm down his throat, all the way until his back hit the pile of sacks. It burst beneath him and a cloud of dust started flying across the air.

Thankfully, Bucky had his mask on and the Knight had his visor.

The Knight continued to push down on his neck. Bucky choked, struggled for some air, then his leg came flying up until he kneed his stomach. He grabbed the Knight by the jaw, flipped them over until he was the one pinned to the wall, then threw his arm back.

The Knight barely dodged it, and his metal fist tore a hole through the sacks.

Fuck.

He kicked him off, then the two started throwing punches and kicks and everything they could at each other, Bucky barely being able to block almost every throw the Knight hit and the latter holding onto the last of his armor to endure his stronger punches.

Bucky grabbed him by the throat, but the Knight flipped over and kicked him in the face. Bucky’s body was thrown into the barrels and broke everything in its path.

He got up, cracking his neck, then stared the Knight down.

“You sure you're enhanced?” the Knight’s filtered voice growled.

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

The Arkham Knight and the Winter Soldier charged after the other, dust parting as they epically ran, their arms thrown back.

Then they were both flying in the air as a barrel of gun powder exploded in between them.

Commander Y/N, smirking her face off as she stood at the highest point above the piles of crates, blew on the muzzle of an AK she found.

The Knight skidded across the ground, and Bucky spat a ball of dirt from his mouth. They crawled and hoisted themselves up with the crates.

She slid off to the floor, running before they could run up to her, then she threw her ammo-less gun to the grass and frantically searched for a place to hide.

Bucky. He ran to her front. The Commander stopped and swallowed. And when she turned around, the Knight was there, cracking his knuckles.

“This should be fun,” she said.

She threw her elbow at the Knight’s visor, lightly cracking it but not enough to have any sort of impact beneath, then Commander Y/N ducked just as Bucky threw his fist at her torso. She slid her leg at his knees, slightly toppling him over. Her back shot up, then she stepped onto a sack to give her the leverage she needed to fly up in the air, spin with her leg out and kick both their heads in one swift move.

Bucky, with his immense superhuman strength, grabbed her leg and flung her all the way to the sacks further dispersing the dust all around the air. She groaned as she hit the floor, rolled over before the Knight could land a kick, then her leg flew to his visor once again, gaining another crack. She felt Bucky come up behind her, so she ducked, grabbed the Knight by his back, then used him as a shield against the metal arm coming right for his chest.

Both the Knight and the Commander flew across the floor.

Before she could stand, throwing the Knight off her body, she saw her pistols on the ground not far from her.

“That fucking arm,” the Knight growled. He stood up, his fist going after Bucky’s head, only to be stopped stiff cold by his hand. The Knight groaned, arm shaking at his reluctance to pull away. Bucky kept holding his fist and eyed the Knight down, now being able to look at him in the eye with the visor’s cover faltering.

The Commander grabbed both their heads, slammed them against each other, then unlatched their fists on each other before either of them could move.

On and on, they waltzed. The Commander could only dodge and duck under Bucky’s arm knowing she couldn’t in any way match his strength, and in doing so, maneuvered those punches so they’d land on the Knight instead. In turn, she did the same to the Knight’s punches at Bucky. The Knight kept at her, trying to get hold of her, and managing to grab her into a headlock once or twice and pinning her to the ground.

Bucky grabbed the Knight by the neck, held him up in the air, then threw his whole body right at the Commander, who locked her legs around the Knight’s neck trying to dismantle his visor. The Knight purposely fell to the ground, further injuring Y/N, then in a swift move, she stood up, grabbed her guns from her holsters, and aimed at them both.

The Knight stood on his knees.

And Bucky on his feet, ready to swing his arm at the first one who moves. They paused.

For seconds, none of them moved.

The Commander smiled.

They heard cheers from the men outside the field, chanting their names like they would to an athlete in a game.

The Commander lowered her guns, wiped the sweat off her forehead and smugly spun the firearms around her fingers.

“Next time,” the Knight stood on his feet, then walked over to Y/N. “No more guns.”

“I do just fine without them.”

“Keep telling that to yourself, kitten-“

The Knight stepped in between her and Bucky. “She is your commander. Stop calling her that.”

“I call her whatever she wants me to call her.”

“You want another hit to the gut, jackass?”

“You can try-“

“I can shoot both of you in the head right now if you don’t stop.” The Commander held out both her guns again.

The two men kept their silence, backed away, then walked back out of the field with their heads down without failing to give each other that side glare.

The Knight went over to walk beside the Commander.

“Y/N-“

“Don’t even go there, you ass,” she snarled.

“He’s overstepping his fucking boundaries.”

She faked a laugh. “That’s the Winter Soldier. He’s just like me. He’s just like Deathstroke. And you have no idea just how much he’s exactly like you. And he has tons of experience over any of us in this fucking country. So if you want your militia to have better chances at actually taking over an entire goddamn city, I suggest you suck up your childish jealousy and get over it.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Shut up. We slept together. So what?”

“You talking about me or the hundred-year-old man?”

“Both,” the Commander glared at him, then turned over to walk by Bucky’s side. The Knight looked like he wanted to strangle everything, even a damn puppy.

“Alright,” she said to her men. “Who wants to go next?”

-----

Booze. She found a stash in the Knight’s room days ago and had brought over few into her quarters. Once or twice she sneaks a sip, especially on days like these. She laid on the foot of her bed, leaning against the mattress, and Bucky was right by her side with his own bottle stuck to his mouth like a baby’s pacifier.

“Do super soldiers even get drunk?” the Commander asked.

“The Hydra serum was a rip-off so it doesn’t give me the full effects. I get drunk. But only after four or five times any human person can possibly take,” he laughed. “But until now I barely remember anything other than my name anyway so everyday feels like I’m having a fucking hangover.”

“Being brainwashed must suck.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

She took a swig from her bottle, and her mind started to create that familiar buzzing fog that took off the pain in her joints greater than any painkiller she could take.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she touched the tip of her bottle onto Bucky’s nose. “I was starting to get bored.”

“And stressed out. I remember how much you asked me to-“

The Commander bit on his ear, and Bucky laughed before pecking her lips.

“You drunk now?”

“Well,” he looked at the clock. “We’ve been at this for five hours now. So yeah, I think I am-HIC.”

Y/N grabbed his hair, pulled him to her side and started heavily making out with his booze-scented lips. He held her neck, her shoulders, then he trailed down her hips and squeezed as lightly as he could with his steel fingers pushing into her skin. She moaned, and now that she was out of her suit and in her bed clothes, Bucky teased under her waistband.

“Mmm,” she moaned against his lips. “Please-“

“Shh…”

The metal arm. The one thing she still dreamed about every night she could the past year. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when Bucky reached under her panties, cupped her pussy like it was so delicately breakable, and started hovering the steel over her clit and folds. “Fuck…”

“Fucking miss this, kitten?”

“Yes…” she grabbed the mattress behind her, grinded onto the steel like it was a vibrator and felt the ripples into her core. Bucky, eyes red and obviously drunk, kissed her neck and collarbone and shifted so he was sitting in front of her. Y/N spread her legs wide and bit off a scream when Bucky teased her hole.

He started removing her shorts, taking her panties along with it. With the cold air fanning out her cunt, she got even wetter when Bucky leaned in raised her shirt to kiss all over her chest, then crouched over on the ground to kiss down her stomach and pelvis.

Bucky kept his metal hand on her wetness, lathering them all over, then his lips kissed down to her clit. He encircled his mouth around it, gently sucking as his hardened tongue flicked all over it. She screamed out his name, then Bucky inserted two fingers inside her. “Fuck!”

He kept going, mouth on her clit, fingers inside her pussy. The sweet, warm metal contrasting greatly against her flesh. She saw the same stars she always did every time she remembered how Bucky Barnes had given her the best cunninglingus in all of history. She shielded her mouth with her arm, biting into her skin.

BAM!

The door. Only one knock served as a warning, then a strong hand pried it open despite the lock. Bucky shot up and Y/N shielded her bottom with her arms.

The Arkham Knight, in nothing else but a red hoodie and jeans, leaned against the doorway with his own bottle of booze in hand. He didn’t flinch nor look even the slightest bit bothered at the sight before him, and instead rolled his eyes as the two scrambled to cover. He drank from his bottle.

“What the fuck!?”

“You took my booze.”

“Get out.”

“Give me my booze back.”

“Bucky drank it all up.”

Bucky leaned against the bed beside Y/N and snarled at the Knight, who glared back. Y/N pulled her shorts back up. “Don’t have to do that, kitten.”

“Stop fucking calling her kitten.”

“You wanna know why I call her that, asshole?”

“Enlighten me,” the Knight growled.

“’Cuz of the way she just mewls when I use this hand right here-“

“Trust me, I know what she fucking sounds like.”

“You did it with her once, jackass. You don’t know the half of it.”

“Just as I said,” Y/N groaned, pinching between her eyes. “I have an entire armory’s worth of guns stashed in that closet right there and I’m not fucking afraid to use them on either of you morons.”

They both scoffed.

The Knight looked just as drunk as the both of them. And despite Y/N telling him to go out, the Knight walked in, shut the door behind him, then made his way to her bed like he owned the place. He sat down and finished up his bottle, placing it on the ground, then collapsed on the mattress.

Y/N, incredibly horny and her head boiling beyond reason, turned her head over to Bucky.

“I really wanna fuck but this guy’s like a fucking boulder.”

“We can continue. Right here. Fuck that guy.”

“I can fucking hear you,” the Knight groaned, hand over his eyes.

“GOOD!” Bucky called out. “Come on…”

He started kissing Y/N’s neck, but she pushed him away. She’s seen the Knight like this a few times. And only her. Not many got to see his face at all. And when he was like this, hoodie over his head smelling like stale rainwater, she knew something went on. Y/N stood up, ruffling Bucky’s hair as he leaned against the mattress with his eyes closed, then walked over to stand in front of the Knight.

He took his arm off his head, eyed her with his eyes tightly squinted like she was too bright a light in the midst of complete darkness, then propped himself up his elbows. The Commander crossed her arms and took him in.

So hot…

The Knight, slowly, and with his head looking like it was about to topple away from his body, leaned over to Y/N and placed his arms over his knees so he could duck down. Y/N, without thinking much, took hold of his head and craned it up.

His eyes weren’t blank, but they weren’t so expressive either. She couldn’t tell what it was he was thinking, or feeling. But his skin felt burning hot under her touch. She took a step forward, still holding his head.

Then she kissed him.

It wasn’t like kissing Bucky. It never had been. He was rougher, so eager to take her and all of her for himself with the movements of his tongue. Bucky was softer and kinder, but all the more wanting.

And in so many ways, they were different, yet eerily the same. They were both, in the worst way possible, taken away from any sort of their humanity, twisted, hurt, bent, until they were no longer in that sane, human demeanor with so much antagonism to show for the world. Nothing but anger. Borderline villains. Brooding bad boys. Dark hair. Blue eyes.

Okay. Maybe she did have a type.

She breathed in, heavy deep breaths, then started to deepen the kiss into something so much more longing. The Knight had his hands on her waist, pulling her to the bed. And on her knees, she went with him, never leaving his lips. The Knight started to lean back, wanting to pull her with him.

But she broke the kiss and gasped as Bucky grabbed her from behind, metal arm around her torso. He kissed her neck, biting, sucking. Y/N leaned against his shoulder and grabbed onto his hair, pulling him to her lips.

And if she weren’t wrong, she swore she felt the Knight growl beneath his breath. He ended up taking his shirt off. They were probably eyeing each other down for all she cared. She kissed Bucky, moaning too hard when his good hand snaked up her shirt, pulling it up. She happily obliged.

When her shirt left her skin, and without a bra in sight, the Knight swooped in and took her lips in his before Bucky could do anything. Y/N started to inch forward, moving the Knight with her, then Bucky took his shirt off and moved over to the bed with them, on his knees, pressing his chest against Y/N’s back just as the Knight as pushing his chest against Y/N’s front.

Holy fuck.

The two hottest men in the fucking universe. And she was sandwiched between them.

Hooooly fuck.

She threw her head back, breathing, moaning inaudible cries. Bucky started for her shoulder licking all the way up her neck, and the Knight pulled on her waist to have at it with her chest, her tits, her nipples sticking out at the burning touches happening all around her. She turned her head back, kissed Bucky while moaning when the Knight slightly bit on her nipples.

She pulled away, grabbed the Knight so she could kiss him on the lips, then Bucky started reaching over her cunt with his metal hand, making her jolt and bite onto the Knight’s lip at the sting of the steel rubbing over her clit like a goddamn vibrator. He kissed her neck, and the Knight bit on her ear. She was on fire. She never felt so alive. Everything was hot. Sweaty. Deep, heavy breaths filing the otherwise silent air.

She pulled away from both of them. She was in control. She could tell with the look on their eyes glaring at the other and worshipping her, determined to make her feel better than the other one ever could. Y/N traced her finger on Bucky’s cheek. “Eat me out, Buck.”

“My pleasure.”

“And you,” she pulled on the Knight’s chest, smirking as he went with it. “I want your cock.”

The Knight grabbed the back of her neck, kissed her so hard she would have fallen over, but she pulled away so she could lie down, Bucky already kneeling in front of her, breath ghosting over her thighs. The Knight pulled down his pants, pulled out his incredible hard on, then positioned himself right beside Y/N’s head.

Bucky lapped at her achingly wet cunt, the tip of his firm tongue drawing hard circles around her clit and letting his drool add up to her wetness. His metal arm, she could feel resting on her stomach. Y/N looked up at the Knight, looking so desirably at her she could feel her skin burn. Her hand wrapped around his cock, pumping ever so slowly and letting her fingers brush against the tip.

Her other hand was on Bucky’s hair, pulling, then the metal arm now snaked down between her legs and she could feel the cold metal deliciously tickle at the throbbing wetness. She moaned, and to conceal them, she hallowed her mouth out and started sucking on the Knight’s dick. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

She was the only one fully naked. And yet, she felt so much power, surging through her veins at every stroke of Bucky’s fingers curl up inside her, at every suck on her clit, and at the Knight’s cock lodged in her throat, with half of it being held with her shivering palms. She pulled away to scream when Bucky switched over to let his tongue swirl inside her and his metal fingers rubbing her clit, while her hand still pumping the Knight’s cock. The latter ran a hand through her hair, his soft, human hand so hot against her flesh, and she kept his eyes on him as she moaned and filled her mouth up with his cock.

Faster. Faster. She was about to cum. So hard. She closed her eyes shut and made sure the Knight’s cock was still in her throat as the overpowering gushes of a pleasurable waterfall rained down every hot inch of her flesh. Over and over, like the incoming waves of the ocean continuously flowing. Her moans were concealed, but both men kept their eyes on her as she shook hard and gripped the sheets like her life depended on it.

The Knight didn’t even cum yet. She looked up at him, then at Bucky. She was far from being tired. It only made her want more. Fuck, why hasn’t she done this sooner.

Bucky reached over to kiss her, and she sat up, arms around his neck. He pulled her up until she was leaning into him, on her knees, then he unzipped his pants to let his cock spring free.

Then the Knight was against her back, hands on her ass. She started arching her back so much that her ass felt the Knight’s dick rubbing all across her skin while her tits were rubbing so nicely against Bucky’s chest.

She got on her hands and knees, the Knight pumping his cock with her slick while Bucky pulled her hair out of the way so she was facing directly at his cock. The Knight entered inside her first, the long, painfully delicious drag of his cock drawing the sweetest moans out her lips. Bucky leaned in and kissed her, hard, feeling her moans out with the violent swirling of her tongue. She grabbed onto the sheets, feeling her wetness drip down her thighs. And after a few good thrusts, letting her adjust to his size, Bucky pulled away to replace his lips with his twitching cock.

In. Out. In. Out. In either opening. In a sweet, sultry rhythm. Bucky licked his lips and thrusted into her mouth just as the Knight held onto her hips so harshly she knew she was about to bruise when the night ends. His hips snapped into her ass, in a set momentum that only he had the stamina to maintain (other than a super soldier, of course). It felt so good to be so filled up in either ends. With every pull from the Knight, her mouth dragged along Bucky’s cock with it, drawing moans and hisses from the both of them. This was all too overwhelming. The sight of them both. The water seeping through her eyes. How his fucking magical cock did wonders inside her in so many ways she’s never felt before. It was all so… so…

“Fuck!” she screamed, and already, she came. And unlike last time it came to her like one, giant blow to her body that almost whipped her out of her physicality. Everything went white, and all the clouded thoughts in whatever part of her mind they were hiding, it was all washed away for the instant. Every nerve ending made her shiver, and she stiffed. And the boys didn’t seem to notice, as they kept thrusting inside her still.

Y/N held her hand out, stopping them both. The Knight stopped thrusting and Bucky pulled his cock from her mouth. “Fuck, kitten, did you cum already?”

She fell face down onto the sheets, trying to remember her name.

“See,” the Knight said. “I did that.”

“Fuck you, no you didn’t.”

“Am I right, kitten?” the Knight stressed.

“Only ‘cuz I warmed her up, you ass.”

“You two,” she panted. “Shut up. I want you both inside me.”

“Fuck…” Bucky said.

“Holy shit,” the Knight breathed.

Y/N threw herself onto the mattress, on her side. Bucky laid facing her front and wasted no time to have her lips all to himself. The Knight crept up behind her and started sucking onto her neck. Y/N pulled away from Bucky, letting him bite onto her collarbone, then kissed the Knight with every last ounce of strength she had.

She held his jaw, biting his lip, then pulled away so she could look deeply into his eyes.

Bucky inserted his cock into her pussy, and she hissed at that while the Knight kissed her neck.

Then the Knight, his cock wet from her own juices, ever so slowly slipped into her asshole.

The screams she tried so hard to conceal, and failed to do so. Her leg hooked around Bucky, while her arm was around the Knight’s head. He gained his pace, at her pussy that had adjusted yet still fit him inside her so tightly that Bucky groaned with his lips on hers. The Knight, taking his sweet time at the new, foreign feeling of her ass, both for him and her, slowly started to thrust.

The two cocks, moving inside her in amazingly complimenting rhythms, she took turns in kissing either of them and moved her hips to match their movements. She could feel their cocks dragging against each other through the thin wall between them, at the spot that was so overly stimulated, at the feeling of being so filled up, she couldn’t possibly think of anything there was. She could only feel. The fullness. The overwhelming high that seemed to go on and on.

They must have been awfully hard and so at the edge by then, that it no longer took them as long to cum. Bucky came first, filling her up with so much of his cum that she could just feel it drip down along with her own juices. Then when he kept going, she felt the coil. The fast-burning whicker of a bomb already blown out so many times. The Knight came next, her ass practically leaking with his cum even with him still inside her, and for the third time that night, she came.

And fuck, just as she did, everything went white.

She passed out. For a good five minutes, she laid on her bed, panting without another word. The Knight was just as tired as she was, but with Bucky being a super soldier and all, he didn’t seem too bothered.

When she came back to her senses she sent both men out of her room before any of the militia army’s hundreds of men woke up before them.

-----

The Commander never felt so high up in the clouds and so down beneath the cold hard ground at the same time. Other than the horrible hangover that sent her mind practically elsewhere than the barracks, she wanted to hide at all the thoughts surging through her mind at the memories from the night that she somehow remembered almost every detail as if she weren’t drunk at all. If not, the hangover worsened and her face bubbled up into a deeply flushed red.

It was probably going to be the one thing she’ll think of the most the next time she needs something to get off too. But with the fucking Winter Soldier and the fucking Arkham Knight?

The Winter Soldier. And the Arkham Knight.

Well, she was one hell of a woman for having both of them, that was for sure.

Okay. So she didn’t have a single speck of regret.

But it didn’t make the hangover any better.

The Knight was with her at the meeting room, and the whole time Slade talked, neither of them seemed to listen. The Knight, even when he took this militia as seriously as his own life, when it occupied nothing else throughout his whole day and not another thought could overpower, had drunkenly engaged in a threesome last night and was now too stupidly ashamed and hungover to properly think.

“You two. Get some coffee. I’ll be out.” Deathstroke said as he left the room.

The Commander buried her face into her arms and the Knight took off his visor so he could rub his face with his palms.

Her head was burning, and for so long none of them talked nor moved a muscle. The Commander was the first to get up from her chair. “Where’s Bucky?”

“Your boyfriend wasn’t in his quarters this morning.”

She glared at the Knight, then went out the meeting room. Just as she did, Beckett opened the door and caught her just about to leave.

“Commander-“

“Where’s Bucky? The Winter Soldier? I want to talk to him.”

“That’s uh. That’s the thing, Commander.” Beckett licked his lips. “He got a call this morning and had to leave. Said he’ll only be taking forty thousand dollars for his five days here.”

“FORTY FUCKING WHAT-“ the Knight stammered. And the Commander glared back at him for making her headache even worse. She turned to Beckett. “When is he coming back?”

“He’s uh… He isn’t.”

The Commander shot up.

“He just… left?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he leave a letter? Or a call? Anything?”

“No, sir. He just told me to tell you and the Knight. Deathstroke as well.”

Of course. Exactly like last time.

Bucky disappeared without so much as a call. This is all for fun, he once told her. A pastime. Release. Don’t think too much about it.

She knew he was a busy man with his own set of friends and enemies to work with.

But dammit, he could have at least called.

“Thank you, sergeant.”

Beckett left them, and the Commander was stuck standing near the door with her eyes locked onto the empty wall.

The Knight, unknown to her, watched her the whole time. Not a smirk. Not a smug little grin to go with it. He was as silent as her.

Nights after, the Commander laid on her bed, alone as she had been the past few days. She got under her covers and tried what she could to close her eyes and get the sleep she’s been needing for so long. But nothing.

Three knocks on her door.

She opened her eyes, then sat up against the headboard. “It’s unlocked.”

The Knight came in, with just a shirt and jeans on. He leaned against the doorway and the Commander rolled her eyes at him. “You come here to gloat?”

“About what?”

“Bucky,” she sighed.

“What do I have to gloat about?”

“Shut up, Knight.”

She looked away, arms in front of her, but the Knight kept looking at her and coughed. “May I come in?”

Y/N closed her eyes, not wanting to argue, and just nodded her head. He closed the door behind him and sat at the edge of her bed.

“You seem to be attached to him.”

“I was fond of him,” she chuckled. “Fond enough to believe something could possibly happen.”

“Really?”

“He’s a good guy. You don’t have to hate him.”

“I do. He’s practically me with chin-length hair and a metal arm.”

She laughed and laid her head against the wall. “He is.”

The Knight kicked his shoes off and laid on the bed next to her. He chose to stare at the same things she was staring. She noticed. Probably to get a glimpse of what went on in her head.

“I’m not in love with him, if that’s what you're thinking.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of thinking of that.”

“Good,” she sighed.

She wasn’t exactly heartbroken. At least, she didn’t think so. She always thought that the moment she was so hurt to the point of that organ tear into pieces, she’ll know it. This. This was practically an equivalent to a teenage crush, except it’s with a really hot guy she slept with a few times, who’s incredibly handsome, has a fucking metal arm, a super soldier. Fuck, he’s dreamy.

But love? Nah. She’d know. She wasn’t in love. Not with a super soldier. Not with a robotic limb. Which meant she wasn’t heartbroken.

And that day will come. Sooner or later. Probably with someone more human, someone she can imagine eating at a small diner with. She turned her head over to the Knight.

“What are you doing here?”

He bit his lips, head against the wall like hers, then smirked.

“I’m here so you wouldn’t drink yourself to sleep and forget you’re here on a job.”

She nudged his shoulder and rolled her eyes, and the Knight grunted a very faint, yet audible laugh. He caught her eyes.

She smiled at him ever so lightly, and even when he didn’t exactly smile back, she thought he was beautiful.

The Knight leaned in, kissed her so softly that it was far too different from any other kiss she’s shared with him. His scent. The one she’d long noticed and wanted to have a closer glimpse at. She pulled herself closer to him.

Laughing as the Knight moved her over on her back, she forgot about everything else there was.

----

and. well. You know what happens next ;) Also I’d like to give credit to the the thirsty hoes in the taglist below who helped me with this fic (most especially @offendedfishnoises, @idkmanicantenglish and @knightfall05x) ((knightfall suggested the intoxication part which was a huge help))

everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherries shadowsndaisiesriver9noble zphilophobiazannoylinglyaries @knightfall05x @l-horizon11 flowersgirl02 

[caiuscassiuss]

Homecoming (M)

Pairing: NCT Johnny ♡ Female!Reader

Description: When a high school reunion drags you back from the bustling city to your hometown, you can’t help but feel inadequate compared your friends’ settled lives, who have thing you want most— kids. You may get your most desperate wish when your long-lost best friend sweeps into town, not quite the introverted nerd he was from 10 years ago.

Genre: high school reunion au smut | romance  WC: 16k Warnings: graphic smut (Dom! Johnny + Sub! Reader, dirty talk, !!!pregnancy kink!!!, unprotected sex, oral sex, rough sex, bulge kink, slight exhibitionism, footsie, slight cum eating, overstimulation), mentions of adultery

(A/N: I’m dedicating this fic to my bestie, my Ten to my Taeyong, my vanilla bean to my weird kinky shit: @kookyong. Thank you so much for supporting me through the creation of this fic and cheering me on when I felt down. Also, fuck you, you stole my idea of dedication before I even told you. Also, a huge thanks to @lovingyong for beta-ing a part of this story and providing such great feedback! I’d also like to thank @galaxybeeji and @aveluant1a for helping me translate some Korean.)

Also, please don’t have unprotected sex and stay safe.

A sigh leaves your lips as you sip at your beer, basking in the electronic light of your phone in the dim, crowded bar. You started reaching over for another fry in the basket, but as you looked up from your phone you noticed there was less than a fourth of the fries remaining.

Apparently, you were steadily but surely devouring the fry basket no one had touched. 

Truly, you had no idea why you were here, sitting alone in a dark booth, watching your co-workers slowly lose their inhibitions as the night went on. The little get together your coworkers made took over the whole bar, filling it with laughter and yells all around.

You scrolled through more pictures of your friends’ perfect family lives, each photo of a white-picket house they were moving into or the welcoming their new child slowly piled weight onto your chest. While you have never been claustrophobic, you felt the walls and the people of this little dingy bar on 43rd street close in on you like a vice.

Scooting out of the booth, you stayed to the sides of the crowded room while attempting to navigate groups of tipsy adults. You inwardly cringed of how much you stood out, a dark spot staining the convivial atmosphere.

“Y/N?”

You whipped around wide-eyed to see Sara standing behind you, a slight sloppy smile plastered to her face as your middle-aged co-workers stared at her unabashedly. Young, beautiful, vivacious— Sara was the office catch, in her red slip and heels. She was dressed to kill.

“Hey! Sara,” you said awkwardly, twiddling with the flap of your purse. Even standing in your best slinky dress in front of her, you felt like a washed out, pale imitation of her.

“Where are you off to? The party just started!” she giggled, the shimmery sequins of her dress sparkling along with her smile.

You quickly tried to formulate a valid excuse. “I actually—”

A loud ring came from your cell phone, vibrating against your thigh.

“I just need to step out real quick to answer this call,” you smiled softly, hoping to convey you needed to take this urgent call as quickly as possible.

“Well, okay,” she pouted. You motioned to step out but a soft hand on your arm stopped you.

Turning back to Sara, she looked unusually serious as she gripped your arm slightly.

“Y/N, have some fun here, alright? You work so hard, you deserve a night out. Especially since you’re all alone-”

What you hoped was a smile was plastered to your face as you shook yourself out of her grip, your small “thanks” murmured into a loud bar unheard as you stepped out.

“Cynthia?” you asked into the phone, sitting on a chair on the terrace.

“Y/N! Oh my god, girl, how are you?” your high school friend squealed into the phone.

Wondering how she could be awake at this time as a new mom, you quickly realized she was a few hours behind New York time.

“Hey yourself, I’m doing well. How about you?” you asked softly.

“I’m doing well! I just had to tell you about Ryland! Our new son, remember? So-”

As she gushed over the first words of her newborn baby, you hummed and agreed at the appropriate moments. You marveled at how much she had changed since your high school days. This was a big difference from the wild girl from high school you knew, the girl with sharp cheekbones with an even sharper wit. Now, in her profile pictures she was rounded and aglow from the joys of motherhood. Your hand slowly rose to meet where your eye and cheekbone met, feeling the flesh that lay there. You had no laugh lines.

“-invitation?”

“Huh?” you asked, shaking out of your stupor.

Cynthia huffed. “Sily, I said did you get my invite on Facebook?”

“No,” you said plainly. You were lying, of course. You had seen the invite, but you scrolled past without even looking at the title.

A groan resounded from the phone. “Y/N, what am I supposed to do with you? God, it’s an invite to our high school reunion!”

Immediately, you wanted to say no. Like, hell no, but you thankfully held your tongue.

“Oh, really? That’s great, Cynthia, but I’m afraid I can’t go—”

“Wait! I haven’t even mentioned the date! It’s a few weeks from now, and you just have to go! Everyone does!”

Truthfully, you had no desire to go back to your old town and see your friends’ perfect families and their perfect kids, their perfect domestic lives. Your high school reunion was always popular with alumni as an event to flaunt how much they were making, how gorgeous their significant other was, how adorable their kids were. It was all one big clusterfuck of gossip and arrogance— not endearing at the slightest.

“Everyone misses you, Y/N. I know I do.”

“I miss you too but I don’t know, I’m really busy with work—”

“Shut up, Y/N. You’re just using that as an excuse since you’re too scared to face everyone.”

Ah, there’s her sharp riposte. Her wit had not dulled with her age, it seems.

“Cynthia—” you stuttered, unable to reply to her retort.

“You bet your ass I will fly out to New York, find you in that concrete jungle then drag you back to attend this goddamn reunion.”

“...I’ll see,” you relented.

“Great! So—” a baby’s cry resounded in the background. “Oh my gosh, I have to go to Ryland now! I’ll text you the details later, bye bye!”

The dark screen of your phone stared back at you as she hung up on you. You could only pray to some higher being this reunion wouldn’t turn out badly.

The skyline of your hometown was unfamiliar to you.

There were a few shadows added, maybe some missing, maybe not. It is not the familiar curves and dips you always used to see when you glanced out your bedroom window.

Even passing through the main part of the town itself, it was so surreal. There were so many new buildings of glass and concrete that juxtaposed the old timey feel of the main street. New signs, new roads, new people passed by you in your Lyft ride.

You had to stop yourself from wondering over the town when you saw your breath fog up the windshield and you hastily jerked back. You hoped the driver didn’t see you looking like an excited 8 year old.

As the car slowly turned into your parent’s neighborhood, a wave of pure nostalgia hit you like a truck. As your eyes traced over the familiar houses on your street, a whole flood of innocent, child-like memories came back to you. All the times playing ball in the street with your neighbor, or even waiting nervously at the bus stop for the first day of school— long forgotten things from your past rose up.

Memories of tanned skin and wide smiles filled your memory, and you felt a pang with in your heart.

Johnny Suh.

“Uhm, ma’am? We’re here?”

You were shaken out of your memories but the sound of the Lyft driver looking at you nervously through his rearview window. 

“Oh, sorry sir! Thank you for the ride.”

Your two heavy suitcases rolled behind you as you strolled through your parents’ large driveway, and your heart started to beat nervously as you saw the front door slowly getting larger.

Hands trembling, you rung the doorbell and stared into the cloudy glass.

You heard flurry of footsteps pitter patter to the front, and you thought you were prepared when your mother opened front door, but turns out you weren’t.

“Y/N?”

Your mother looked as beautiful as ever, the crow lines underneath her eyes and the wisps of grey in her hair looking gorgeous. You haven’t seen her in years, and you could feel a gathering of tears in your waterline.

“Mommy,” you said, choking up a bit towards the end.

“My darling girl? My sweetheart? You’re here?”

“Yes, mom.”

“Y/D/N, come! Y/N is back!”

As your dad came tearing down the hall and his eyes focused on you, you saw his old eyes brighten and fill up with tears.

“My little turtle?”

“Hi daddy!” you smile weakly, giving a little wave.

“Come and give your dad a hug! I haven’t seen you in so long!”

As you rested in the embrace of your mother and father, you thought that maybe coming home wasn’t so bad at all.

The afternoon sun beat down upon your bare shoulders, your wide-brimmed boater hat offering no respite.

You could only drink your ice-cold lemonade in hopes of cooling down and not feeling like a sweaty rat, fanning yourself with a menu and looking over the balcony.

“—and Ryland goes “I wanna pear, mommy!” and then Callie says ,”Ryland, that’s a potato.” It was a mango!”

Cynthia cracked up laughing, and you let out a few peals of laughter so as to not seem awkward. Every time Cynthia mentioned her darling kids, a burning jealousy gripped your heart until you could only see green. You truly wish you could enjoy your friends’ stories about how her kids could say the darndest things, but it only increased your yearning for kids tenfold.

“Well, enough about my life. How’s your job in the Big Apple? You’re one of those white collar types now, aren’t you?”

You sipped at the lemonade, wishing it was something much stronger. Your eyes swept over her appearance; the Facebook pictures were wrong, she was much more radiant in person. “You could say that, I guess. I travel a lot, though I’m only in New York half of the year. Usually I end up in the UK or Beijing. My work is very good to me.”

Cynthia sighed in faux envy, her hand resting over her swollen breasts from pregnancy. “You’re so cool, Y/N. It must be so fun traveling all over the world and seeing all these new things, tasting all the great food!”

You thought back to your large, empty apartment overlooking the Greenway that felt more like a showroom.The film of dust your housekeeper had to clean. The vacant adjacent plane seats. The uncomfortable fact you never had someone to go home to.

“Yeah, you could say that.”

After a few minutes of light hearted chat, your straw was sucking at your almost empty glass. God, you needed to pee.

“Sorry, Cy. I gotta go to the restroom for a minute, un momento!”

After relieving yourself, you stepped out of the restroom only to walk face first into a well-built chest. As much as you wanted to press your whole body onto his delicious one, it wasn’t exactly societally acceptable to be seen rubbing yourself against a stranger like a dog in the heat.

You (unfortunately) moved back, apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry, are you alrig...”

The last syllables left your mouth at the pace of molasses at your shock of seeing this god of a man in front of you. Tall, broad shouldered, with hidden muscles flexing under his casual white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms.

And his face. His face was like sin, chiseled as hell with pouty lips and sharp eyes. But as your gaze roamed over his features, you saw the scar near his lips that was barely visible. Only one person you knew had that unique scar, in its unique placement. He got it from accidentally knocking his trumpet too hard into his lips in sophomore year.

“Johnny?!” you gasped.

His face brightened up for a second, a brilliant gleam to his eyes until it went away in a flash.

“Y/N.”

His dark, tenor tone raised gooseflesh along your bare arms and shoulders. This was definitely not the Johnny you knew so well from high school.

After a moment of awkward silence (he didn’t look inclined to embrace you in a hug or even speak), and you spoke up. “Um, it’s great to see you. You look good.”

“Thanks, you too,” he said shortly.

A slight crease formed on your brow as you frowned lightly, not used to his coldness. If this were the Johnny you knew in high school, he would’ve wrapped you in a big bear hug with his long, lanky limbs flailing. He looked like he grew into those limbs.

“Well, do you have time to catch up? I haven’t seen you in a decade,” you breathed out.

He pursed his lips for a moment. “Sorry, I’m afraid I can’t. I’m only here because I’m meeting an old investor.”

It was only then you noticed his fancy watch and his shined Weston shoes, along with the dark leather briefcase he had in his hand. He looked like a Wall Street shark.

You were sure your face fell for a second, since he frowned minutely, until you felt a mask of pity snap into place. “That’s a shame. Well, have fun with your investor. See you… sometime.”

You bravely moved to pat his arm, and his face did not change even when you passed by him. You felt his intense gaze upon your retreating figure and until you were sure he couldn’t see you, sprinted through the crowded cafe to your balcony table with Cynthia.

“God, what took you so long?” she complained. “Our food already arrived.”

“Did you know Johnny Suh was in town?! I just ran into him!” you fake whispered.

Her brows lifted in surprise. “No? I didn’t see him on the Facebook guest list—”

You quickly pulled out your phone and opened the invite list. There, in dark navy font, was Johnny Suh.

“He was your best friend, right? The nerdy band kid you was always with?”

You felt the edges of your mouth pull down. “Hey, he’s not like that. He was a great and friendly guy! But I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Well, how is he?”

“I-He looked like a damn god, Cynthia. He’s so different from high school. I couldn’t even recognize him,” you breathed out.

Her eyebrows only climbed higher in surprise. “Well, I’ll be. Was not expecting that.”

You snorted. “No one was, even his fucking best friend of 4 years didn’t.”

Cynthia took a bite of her salad, a look of contemplation upon her rounded features.

“Something wrong, Y/N?”

You hugged yourself and looked away. “Well, when I say he’s not like from before, he really isn’t. I wasn’t expecting him to be this cold.”

This really wasn’t a situation you wanted to be in. At all. 

Sitting here in a pretty, floral sundress, sitting on a park bench in the midst of all your former classmates chatting with decked out strollers parked beside them.

You tried your best to not feel uncomfortable, as Cynthia looked like she was enjoying herself, but this was simply not your speed. You’d never expected Cynthia to be friends with the popular kids at school in the future, but look where she was now. Chattering and giggling with the rest of them.

Your discomfort was only enforced by how different you looked from everybody, how Cynthia’s PTA mom friends were dressed like they were about to go to play tennis. They knew each other well and could giggle and gossip, but you were in your own isolated world.

Last, but not least:

They all had children.

You stared enviously at the little angels ran around the playground, screaming and cavorting about. Some stumbled on their legs, new to the concept to walking, but some sat quite passively staring out in space. Reluctantly, a smile crept upon your face as a group of little ones played tag. They ran, weaving in and out between children and playground equipment. Your eyes followed a darling girl dressed in red, with her cheeks flushed in excitement as she zoomed around but then--wham!-- slammed into a playground pole.

A gasp escaped your mouth and you almost stood up to go to her, until a tired groan resounded from across from you as a tanned blonde lazily got up to attend to her child. Then, you were bitterly reminded that, no, that was not your beautiful child.

“Oh my, poor Kayla, that little darling is always getting hurt! Bless her poor heart!” a woman (Kendall, maybe?) dressed in neon pink cooed her concern.

You could only sulk in pathetic silence as you deliberately excluded yourself from the conversation, too uncomfortable and upset to truly feel at place. Hell, it wasn’t just because you were clearly an outsider, it was the way this group of women treated people they thought lower them. Sudden memories came to you of Johnny’s crooked smile fading as he realized they never thought of him as a friend. How his friendly, warm personality was used against him as he helped them with their homework but was never truly thought as “in”.  He cried so much that night.

“-you nowadays, Y/N?”

You whipped your head back around to see one of the nicer women, Katie, smiling at you as the whole group focused on your angered face.

“I’m sorry, come again? I’m afraid I was distracted.”

She laughed. “No problemo, sweetie. I just said ‘How are you?’ What’s going on in your life?”

A tight smile spread across your mouth. “I’m doing well right now. I work in New York as a private manager for J.P. Morgan,” you said politely, steeling yourself for the onslaught of questions.

“Ooh, so do you get paid well? Do you travel a lot?” someone butt in. You turned to see it was that one noisy theater kid (Anna?) and you decided to answer politely.

You tittered out a delicate laugh, the type you emit when you have to play nice with a client. You turn a modest smile Anna’s way. “I get by comfortably, and yes, I’m usually out of the country until someone here,” you side-eyed Cynthia, who waved cheerfully, “convinced me to come back for the reunion.”

Noises of approval came from the group, and they continued to ask polite questions until one sugary sweet drawl slithered in.

“Well, you sound so accomplished! This is all so amazing,” the tanned, voluptuous brunette 2 seats down from you piped up. “But, do you have anyone to share it with? Any hotshot hubby? Darling kids?”

You gritted your teeth, “No, unfortunately my job hasn’t allowed me to have much personal time.”

The other part of group turned away, wandering into other conversations and leaving the two of you relatively alone. She gasped dramatically, showing her immaculate gel manicure. “Are you even of the female kind?!” she playfully joked, but you could hear the undertone of smugness beneath.

Oh. Now you remember.

Victoria Edwards, that little bitch from the church group that always seemed to hate you. You had no idea what was her problem, especially since your parents had long been friendly with hers. Perhaps it was the fact you were amiable with everyone while many were tired of her spoiled attitude. Nevertheless, every chance she had to spite you or make things uncomfortable, she took it. Victoria did it with such calculated anger, you wondered what you ever did wrong to her. You never found out; she just had it out for you.

You shrugged modestly, careful to hide your trembling fingers in the folds of your dress lest you reach out a put her in a chokehold.

“But don’t you want kids? Who’s going to take care of you when you get older?” she continued, a look of faux pity on her heart-shaped face.

She just can’t stop, huh?

“Perhaps if everything slows down,” you replied carefully.

“Your eggs are going to get cold if you wait too long! I’ve heard those new fangled procedures for older women are very risky with a low chance of—”

“Thank you for the advice, Victoria. You seem very well-read on it— since your husband is always busy, you know— and you sound like you have some good experience under your belt. I’ll come to you for any help.”

You send a charming smile her way, and slowly rise up from your comfortable perch. Waving a goodbye Cynthia’s way, you continue to depart.

You refrain from sashaying away.

Wandering through the paths of your town’s best park, you reveled in the feeling of truly being in nature for the first time in over a decade. New York had Central, sure, but your town’s really immersed you in the outdoors without sky-scraping structures looming threateningly over you.

Closing your eyes to feel the radiant sunshine on your skin, you were startled when a little girl’s cry broke the peaceful silence of the area. It sounded muffled, but not too far away from where you were from.

“Hello? Sweetie, where are you?”

The cries only grew louder, and your footsteps only grew more frantic as you searched through the undergrowth.

“Hold, I’m coming to get you—”

You burst into a secluded part of the path and see a familiar little girl in a yellow jumpsuit bawling her eyes. You spotted a blotch of red and brown on her pale elbow and you practically ran to her shaking figure.

“Oh, poor sweetie, are you okay?”

She pulled her head out from her knees and cautiously stared at you, her cries dying down. You recognize her immediately. She was Cynthia’s snarky little 5 years old, Callie.

“I want M-mommy,” she pouted, rubbing her eyes so adorably you couldn’t help but melt.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry it’s Aunt Y/N,” you smiled kindly at her.

“A-Auntie?” she sniffled.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

She put her arms up and you obliged, careful not to jostle her wound too badly.

“Let’s go to Mommy, alright? It’s gonna be A-Okay.”

She buried your face in your neck, her soft puffs of hair brushing your cheek and you almost melted right there on the spot.

“You wanna tell me what happened, baby?” you asked, taking a fast past towards the trail path.

“I twipped on somethin’,” she mumbled.

“I’m so sorry sweet girl, how much does it hurt?”

“Vewy bad.”

“Oh dear,” you whispered.

As soon as you saw a small shed that had a red cross over it, you quickly made your way on over. Sitting her on the counter gently, you smiled your best smile.

“Auntie’s gonna get you all cleaned up, okay?”

She nodded, and you took that as consent when you reached for a first aid kit. You immediately cringed, knowing the first step was going to be painful for both of you.

“Baby, to get rid of the red and black, I’m gonna have to clean it. It might sting a bit so can you a strong girl for me?”

You saw her stubbornness Cynthia frequently complained about, as she jutted out her lip and nodded resolutely.

Getting out the alcohol and pads, you gave her a warning as you lightly pressed, She made a noise of discomfort, and your head snapped up to see if she was any pain.

“Callie?”

“I-I’m fine, Auntie,” she mumbled firmly. 

Pinching her cheek playfully, you continued to disinfect the wound to reveal a light scrape on the skin of her elbow. Wrapping it up nice and tight, you patted her thigh.

“All done, baby,” you smiled. “Good job,” you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Is she yours?”

You let out a little scream as you dropped the cotton pads. You snapped your head to see Johnny Suh in a sleeveless tank and jogging shorts, a light sheen to his muscles from his work out.

He has one fit bod, a part of you whispered. The veins in his toned forearms, his fit calves, the hint of his strong chest in his tank— 

There was a child next to you, for god’s sake!

Callie was laughing next to you, all her pain forgotten. Recovering from your shock, you rolled your eyes and playfully booped her on the nose, causing her to swat at it playfully.

“You silly little goose,” you chastized. She giggled even more, a beautiful smile split on her face.

A cough resounded from behind you and you remembered Johnny fucking Suh was behind you in the hottest workout gear you’ve ever seen and you blanched.

“So?” he raised an eyebrow, nodding towards Callie.

“Nope, this little sweetheart is Cynthia’s,” you said, squeezing Callie closer.

“Oh,” he merely said. You thought you detected a glimpse of relief on his face, before he moved it to that impassive mask.

His sharp eyes zoomed in on the bandage at her elbow and he frowned. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine, just a minor trip,” you soothed, picking up Callie from the counter.

“Auntie, who is that?” she inconspicuously whispered, causing you to muffle your laughter against her head. Johnny had a slightly amused grin on his face.

“That’s Mr. Johnny. He’s an old… friend of mine,” you informed her, shifting her on your hip.

“Hi Mr. Johnny! I’m Callie and I’m 6 years old!” Callie brightly smiled, holding up 5 fingers.

“Sweetie, you need one more finger to make six,” you giggled, as you uncurled another finger on her other palm to make six.

Johnny let out a chuckle and bent down to eye level with the child in your arms. “Hiya kid. You can call me Johnny.”

“How old are you Mister Johnny? You look… like… very old!,” Callie flails her arms, unable to properly express the number.

A small smile graced his face, a glow in his eyes as he looked at the small child in your arms. His face wasn’t the one you saw in the cafe. “Not quite, baby. I’m the same age as your mommy.”

Callie continued to entertain Johnny as the three of you walked down the path, towards where her mom was sitting. Eventually, the adrenaline of the whole experience of getting hurt and meeting someone new wore off, and she slept soundly on your shoulder.

An awkward silence permeated between you and Johnny, as you busied yourself with the scenery you had seen hundreds of times while he regressed to his cold persona. His presence next to you was too close yet too far, and you could feel how tense you were walking next to him. Sometimes, his arm would brush against your shoulder and it ignited a series of nerves you haven’t felt in years. It was like there was a furnace flowing underneath your skin. You curled Callie in your arms a bit tighter to stave off whatever he was doing to you.

You felt Callie rustle a bit and you knew that if she woke up, she would be extremely grumpy so you hummed lightly, bouncing her up and down in your arms while patting her back lightly. So focused you were in your task, the undecipherable look in Johnny’s eyes went unnoticed.

“How have you been?,” Johnny spoke, his low voice still so unfamiliar to your ears.

Your head snapped up toward his, him now towering over you when you had once been his height. His black hair lay across his eyes, his amber eyes intensely focused at you.

“I’ve been alright. Good,” you mumbled.

Another lengthy period of silence stretched between you.

“...I heard you were snatched up by J.P. Morgan when you graduated. That’s a good company,” Johnny said.

“Yeah, I’m now a private manager there. They’ve— the company—has been very good to me over these years,” you smiled slightly. It was true, the company had treated you well and given you a career, but you were still so...lonely.

“You look like you’re doing well for yourself.”

“....yes.” Silence. “You too— you look like you’re doing well.”

“I’d like to think so. I-, uhm, I’m the CEO of an online banking company— Banksy, have you heard of it?”

You were embarrassed to admit you gaped at him for a solid minute. Banksy? It was one of the trendiest e-businesses that had grown exponentially when the tech boom hit the market. The small start-up crested the wave until it had become a blue-chip name on the stock exchange. You even had an account with them!

“I-I have. I even have an account with them— you. Wow, Johnny, congratulations, that’s honestly amazing,” you smiled brightly at him, really and truly proud of your high school best friend doing so well for himself— no matter how cold he was to you.

A reluctant smile crawled over his plump lips, and you realize how much you had missed him. Yes, he was your best friend in every sense the word meant. He had been there and celebrated when you made it onto the softball team, offered you his hoodie when your period had come out of nowhere, even been there when you had gotten into an accident, senior year.

He had gotten there first. Not the police, not your parents— him, in his stupid Naruto pajamas, pulling up in his shitty 2001 Honda Accord and bawling his eyes out.

You hadn’t realized how much you relied upon him until you moved to college in another state, totally lost and confused without your best friend. Regret had always been an emotion associated with his name. You wished you had kept in contact with him, and even more so regretted you hadn’t ever truly revealed your...

“Thank you, Y/N.”

He opened up his mouth to say something, then immediately opened it again, but then paused. He looked like he was having a conflict within himself, but he shook his head and stared directly at you.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I couldn’t really talk to you that day with met at the cafe. It was a bit… rude in hindsight.”

You blinked in shock, mouth slightly ajar as you stumbled on the path.

“O-Oh, that? Don’t worry about it— I get it, we’re all so busy nowadays,” you offered a weak smile.

“No, I’m in the wrong here. We were… we were best friends for years, I shouldn’t have treated you like that.”

His brows furrowed, you notice how much he has matured. Not just in his looks and the way he presented himself, it was the way he treated you. Don’t get it wrong (he was a sweetheart during high school), but he seemed more sure of himself, more able to take responsibility and address conflict. He had always had kind of avoided confrontation, the one part you hated of him you hated during high school, and would always just kind of awkwardly wait for any conflict to pass by and ignore it. He was so much Johnny, but so much less.

“Hey, it’s alright. We were both just not used to each other, y’know? You were probably stressed out at the time and took it out on me. There’s no need to get in a tizzy over that.”

“It’s just I haven’t seen you in years and I treated you like that—”

“Youngho.”

His Korean name sort of forced itself out of your mouth, hiding in the back of your throat all these years and finally popping back up when the man himself did. No one really knew of his other name other than his sweet mother and you, since your white-ass town would’ve butchered it until the point of disfiguration. Hearing you say it had always calmed him down.

“...fine,” he pouted. Maybe, just maybe, you saw bits of the old Johnny peek through the new mask, new body of his. “Man, I just feel terrible about it, though. It hasn’t left my mind in days.”

“Why don’t you make it up to me by getting a coffee with me sometime? I.. I’d love to catch up, Johnny. I’d really, really like to.”

His dark eyes met yours and yours widened.

“I’d love to.”

By the time your unlikely trio reached the PTA moms plus Cynthia, it was already late afternoon. The sun had turned golden, the kids were getting tired, and the music from your town’s main street could be faintly heard.

“Y/N? Y/N?! Have you seen—” Cynthia called out frantically, waving her cell phone around but paused when she saw her child in your arms.

“Oh my god, Callie! Sweetheart!”

She sprinted across the sidewalk to immediately take the sleepy child from your tired arms. You could see the sunlight glint off her sweaty face, her unkempt hair frizzing out of her bun while she rocked Callie in her arms.

A slight grin graced your face as you tilted your head and took in the sweet mother-daughter moment. Unbeknownst to you, the man beside you had the same expression on as well, his hands itching to pull you closer.

“Cynthia? Sweetheart, did you find Callie?” someone shouted from the side.

A flock of moms headed towards your general direction, all carrying their kids with them and hoisting their heavy bags. As soon as they reached you, their eyes had wandered from Cynthia and zoomed in on the delectable piece of man next to you. You remembered how he looked with his toned and veiny arms on display in his loose tank, how good he looked with his hair windblown and disheveled and you inwardly smacked your head. He was basically bait for middle-aged women.

“Y/N, who is this? Would you care to introduce us?” the woman you thought was Kendall cocked out her hip, her eyes still fixated on Johnny.

“This is—”

“Am I late to the party? Well, thank god we found Ca— oh, who is this?”

Everyone’s favorite girl Victoria sauntered into your midst, her rambunctious kids following behind her.

You gave a tight smile. “Ladies, do you remember Johnny Suh from high school? This is him.”

The women present smiled brightly but did not seem to remember his name.

“I’m so sorry, I can’t seem to recall you from back then,” Victoria smiled apologetically. Your eyes zoomed in on the subtle movements she displayed— the slight stroking of her bare arms, the hooded lids— and you rolled your eyes.

“Hold on, weren’t you a trumpet in marching band? Vice president of the Anime Club?” Anne popped out, the glint of recognition in her eyes,

Johnny chuckles and shifted his weight. “Yeah, that was me,” he said, with a sort of secretive smile on his lips.

You watched with smug satisfaction as the ladies’ eyes collectively widened in disbelief, Victoria even going stiff for a moment before recovering. The boy they had excluded, used, looked down on, had grown into this man next to you.

“W-well, I’ll be! You’ve changed so much from back then,” Kendall (still unsure who the hell she is) grinned.

“You could say that,” Johnny smirked before pushing his hair out of his face, everyone’s eyes following his toned arms flexing.

Karma is so sweet.

“Y/N, mom threatened to decapitate me if I didn’t invite you to dinner. Could you come over?”

Always the momma’s boy.

“You want to save this sexy face, right?”

There he was. That was the Johnny you knew.

“Mm, I don’t know. You could use a little ego beat down,” you laughed, bending down to open your suitcase.

“Don’t lie, love, you find me attractive,” he breathed, his voice rough. You bit your lip at the noise, gripping your shirt tight enough to create wrinkles.

A beat of silence passed before you moved to speak. “Dress code, Johnny?”

He snorted. “You could show up in pajamas and mom and dad would still be glad to see you.”

“Even in those silly Naruto pajamas you wore?” you teased.

“Hey! They were not silly-”

“- sure, anime club VP-”

“- and shut up, you stole them anyways.”

You sighed, remembering the orange pajama top stuffed in the back of a cabinet. “I mean, I could just show up naked if you’re not going to give me some kind of dress code.”

A muffled grunt met your ears as it sounded like he quickly moved the phone away from his mouth and your eyes widened.

“Ugh, sorry about that I...dropped something. But fine, woman, dressy casual. Mom just came back from church and she wants to see dad and I look at least somewhat presentable.”

“How is your mom, by the way? The church?”

“Both doing fine. Mom is running the back to school drive again. Remember Mark Lee? That kid in our youth group? He’s actually the Faith Formation leader now.”

“Markie? Oh my god, I missed him!” you smiled widely as you remembered the hyper boy 4 years younger than you, who was too kind and too pure for his own good.

“I’m starting to feel offended, what about me?”

“No, ‘cause he’s cute and you’re not, Johnny.”

“That right, ‘cause I’m sexy.”

“Oh my god.”

You both burst out laughing, the moment feeling so right it warmed your chest. You laid your floral dress on your bed and flopped down next to it.

“Well, if you’re done inflating your ego, I gotta get ready. Bye bye.”

“Bye, love.”

You sighed for the umpteenth time today and your eyes were drawn around your room. Colorful pictures, awards, and random stuff covered the walls and surfaces of your room. It looked so lived in, so alive and loved it hurt to think about going back home to your starkly empty bedroom. 

To be honest, you had no idea what happened. Cynthia liked to call you the ultimate girl next door, and while you vehemently protested it at the time, now you couldn’t help but feel she was right. Back then you thought you were antisocial as hell, but as opposed to the present, you were the life of the party. Clubs, church group, Johnny— you were so bright and bubbly back then, so many people surrounding you in your small hometown.

Now, as opposed to then, you lived life like clockwork. It wasn’t surprising, since after college you threw yourself into studying to be successful, forgetting everything and everyone that made you feel alive. Now, it was robotic, tiring, and lonely.

The picture at the very center of your room caught your attention. It was a lovely one, set during the late afternoon at your town’s park. You and Johnny stood close together, arm in arm, smiling brightly at the camera dressed to the nines.

Prom.

Picking up the frame, you brushed a reverent hand across the picture of the two of you. You both had no one to go with, and decided to go together since everyone else you knew paired off. You remember him awkwardly sliding the white corsage onto your wrist, you having to tip-toe to pin his to the lapel of his blazer. In hindsight, Johnny in senior year was starting to look like the Johnny of today.

That night was so fun. Dancing ‘til you had to take off your heels, Johnny pretending to spike the punch, stuffing your face with the fancy sandwiches provided— the classical prom experience. 

The highlight was when Johnny pulled you into dancing the last song of the night. The pair of you couldn’t look each other in the eye as you slowly swayed to the music, breaths hitching at the slight distance between each other. But at the end, when you two finally caught each other’s gazes, was exhilarating. He opened his mouth, his eyes shifting back and forth in nervousness.

You thought he was going to confess.

Instead, he seemed to stop himself and smiled weakly at you. That moment of what could have been, what you could’ve done, haunted you forever until you threw yourself into studying.

What would’ve happened if you had spoken up?

“Y/N-ah!!! My love, come here!”

Heat diffused into your cheeks as you crossed the yard to the tiny woman under the patio bouncing with energy.

You struggled not to run and leap into Mrs. Suh’s arms while carrying a small roll cake from Tous Les Jours. But when you saw her wide smile and eyes folded up like crescents in happiness, you dropped your stuff on the ground and ran into her arms.

“Hi Auntie!” you murmured into her shoulder as you embraced her, tears coming into your eyes as you settled into her warm embrace.

“Oh, Y/N! I haven’t seen you for 10 years, don’t cry!” Mrs. Suh laughed as she held you at arm's length, eyes roving over your face. She wiped a tear off your cheek with her thumb and patted your neck.

“You’ve always been pretty, but now you’ve grown to be so beautiful.” She pinched your arm. “But why aren’t you eating more? Come, auntie will get you some good food.”

“I brought a roll cake, Auntie. I hope you like it,” you said, wiping tears off your face as she led you down the hall.

“Thank you, sweetheart. 여보 (Husband)! Y/N is here! Come out, come out!” she yelled down into the home office.

“Eh? Y/N?” Mr. Suh’s thin voice echoed from the office as a new wave of tears threatened to rise up.

Mr. Suh, a bit older and thinner than when you last saw him, opened the door to his office and a wide smile lit up his face.

“Give your uncle a hug!” 

As you gave your best friend’s dad a hug, more tears spilled onto your cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry!” Mrs. Suh said as she grabbed you into a side-hug, wiping off your tears.

“I just missed you guys so much,” you blubbered, struggling to compose yourself. Tears started to come to Mrs. Suh’s eyes and Mr. Suh laughed. These two had been more than your best friend’s parents, they had raised both of you through thick and thin. You were closer to them than most of your family when you were in high school, and they had never failed to welcome you into their home with open arms.

“Y/N, my wife has been missing her church helper. Bake sales don’t make themselves and she’s getting so old these days, you know?” he said, teasing his wife. 

She released you as she slapped his arm. “Yah! You know what, you can set up the table by yourself.. Go!”

You smiled at the utter love and admiration in their eyes as they teased each other. You had always hoped that one day, you could stare into your significant other’s eyes with an ounce of the love they have.

“Ah, Johnny’s probably still fussing with his hair upstairs. He’s missed you so much these days,” she smiled up at you.

“Moooommmm,” Johnny whined, coming down the stairs. “내 비밀 드러내지 마세요! (Don’t reveal my secrets)!”

“What? It’s true, John-ah,” she smiled at him she hugged his torso.

He turned to you, and you looked down, blushing. Johnny looked extra good today, in a casual Oxford and jeans combo that emphasized his proportions.

“Hi there,” he said, leaning on the railing. He gave you a discreet wink from above his mother’s head and affixed an intense stare on your person, his eyes roving up and down your body.

“H-Hey John,” you mumbled, your body curling on itself from his gaze.

“Well, I’m going to leave you two kids alone before my husband breaks something,” she said with a mysterious sparkle in her eye. As if on cue, silverware clattered onto a plate. “Oh dear,” she muttered as she sped down to the kitchen.

The two of you were left in silence.

“You look great today, Y/N.” Johnny smirking as he tilted his head towards you. Where did this confident Johnny come from?

“You too. Since when did you learn such good Korean?” you grinned, trying to lighten the mood. To be fair, Johnny only knew really basic phrases in high school and you were surprised to see unaccented Korean flow fluently from his mouth.

“Oh, I was kinda dropped into the Korea and told to swim, ha.”

“Cool.”

Another awkward silence.

“I missed you a lot, Johnny,” you whispered, foot tracing patterns into the floor.

“Me too, Y/N. I… I missed my best friend.”

You bit your lip as you opened your arms for him and he quickly wrapped his arms around your torso. Even with you standing on your toes, with his tall height he had to bend down slightly. So familiar, yet so different. Breathing in the scent of cologne and the clean linen of his shirt, you hoped he would not hear the pounding of your heart through the thin fabric of your dress.

The two of you stood there in the hallway, basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies until the noise of an iPhone shutter sounded.

Johnny lifted his head from your hair and you looked to see Mrs. Suh standing in the doorway, grinning at the screen of her iPhone which was directed at you.

“엄마 (Mom)!” he groaned, not letting go of you yet.

“I wanted to capture my two loves together, okay? Now give Y/N a pair of slippers, please,” she said, bustling off the kitchen once again.

You let go of him slowly, leaning back down onto the floor.

“You know, you look so different Johnny. I didn’t recognize you at first,” you said quietly, raising a hand to caress his jaw.

“I’ve changed a lot,” he responded, equally as soft. A grin split his face as he grabbed your hand. “You can ogle me later, let’s go before mom smacks me for not helping.”

His hand wrapped around your smaller one as he led you to the dining room table. You tried to go to the kitchen and help but used his grip to force you into a seat, citing you were a guest. You weren’t sure if he did it intentionally, but his hand stroked your arm as he let go of your hand to help in the kitchen, a caress so soft it sent shivers down your spine.

When dinner was served and everyone sat down, you could not resist hungrily scooping large portions of Mrs. Suh’s homemade kimchi-jjigae and Mr. Suh’s galbi onto your plate.

“Eat up, eat up, my love. I cooked your favorites.” Mrs. Suh smiled beside you.

You savored in the taste of her cooking as conversation languidly started, regular family chat you remembered from your many dinners here in high school. As you uncrossed your legs, you accidentally kicked Johnny’s long legs under the table. I’m so sorry, you mouthed silently. Turning back to Mrs. Suh, you couldn’t see the devious smirk crawl upon his plump lips.

You found out Mr. and Mrs. Suh were now fully retired. Mr. Suh spent his days at the Korean Golf Association, playing there and running the tournaments they hosted. Mrs. Suh was now fully committed to the church, taking on a busy schedule of events that was getting hard to manage.

Mrs. Suh was complaining about the new church moms when you quietly asked Johnny to pass the radish over, and he complied. Instead of just handing you the dish, he forked over some slices and dipped them in vinegar, just the way you like it. You grinned at him and he leaned over, then his leg brushed the smooth skin of your bare calves. Your eyes widened.

“...you would not believe how many mothers tried to get me to introduce their daughters to John-ah after I showed them a photo…”

You almost choked as his pant clad leg inserted itself between yours, the fabric of his pants tickling various spots on your legs causing every sense to be heightened. Feeling the goosebumps on your arms, you turned an accusing gaze to him but he looked nonplussed, eating his cabbage.

“...but I’ve met them already, and they’re not for Johnny, you know? They never liked Johnny in high school, so why should…”

You frantically grabbed for a glass of water as his knee brushed the inside of your thigh. A small whine left your lips as your pussy tightened, gripping the glass very tight. A drop of moisture collected in your panties, and quickly created a pool as his legs trapped yours.

“... Oh I love Mark-ah and Hyerim, but you were so good with the kids, Y/N-ah!...”

You let a curtain of hair cover your face to hide your reddening expression, breasts heaving as your breathing start to pick up. When his knee started move along the inside of your thigh, your teeth dug into your bottom lip hard enough to bleed, your remaining hand bunching up in your dress. You could see a small smirk form on Johnny’s face while he was eating and you scowled in his direction, squirming from the added moisture in your panties.

“...kids, Y/N-ah?”

You were shaken out of your daze when Mr. and Mrs. Suh looked expectantly at you.

“Sorry, auntie?”

“Do you have a husband? Or wife? How about kids— you are a born mother!”

Johnny’s foot slid to meet your ankle, forcing you to swallow hard. You hoped like hell your nipples wouldn’t peak through your dress. You already knew there was no saving your panties, shifting so your arousal wouldn’t stain your dress or the chair beneath you. You laughed awkwardly. “Ah, no, not quite. My job keeps me traveling around so much and I haven’t had time to start a family.”

“You still want one?”

Images of kids with hair like yours running around sunlit fields, a big house and a big belly, swollen with your baby flashed quickly in your head. Your smile turned sad.

“I’d love nothing more than one.”

Mrs. Suh smiled proudly, and turned to Johnny to nag him about her lack of grandkids or a daughter in law. Johnny had stopped playing footsie with you and was trying to avoid his mom’s hands grabbing at his face, but your breath still ran ragged when something occurred to you about your vision.

Those kids had the same eyes as Johnny.

(So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Mr. Suh nudge Johnny in the arm, silently telling him to “hurry up”.)

“Y/N, I ban you from the kitchen! You are the guest,” Mrs. Suh stressed, waving you out of the question with a soapy glove.

“Absolutely not. I want to help you clean. Besides, you’re getting old, y’know?” you ribbed, pulling back your hair and grabbing a clean towel. As soon as dinner ended, you bolted out of the room into the kitchen, ignoring the stickiness between your legs.

“Aigoo! Fine, fine,” she relented, rinsing a dirty bowl.

Toweling off the glasses Mrs. Suh had recently cleaned, your gaze had wandered to Johnny’s tall figure in the dining room. As he moved about, Johnny seemed so much more comfortable in his lanky limbs, no longer the awkward kid you knew. His actions were done with surety of someone who knew of his own self-worth, sure of his abilities and flaws. Regret washed over you, mixed in with pride. You were so, so proud of the man you see before your eyes, but you desperately wished you could have been part of it.

Mrs. Suh watched you with a secret smile as your toweling slowed down.

“I know I said it before, but Johnny really missed you.”

“Huh?” you asked dumbly, taken out of your stupor.

“During the first few years after high school, I was so sure Johnny was going to break down. You two had become so busy and slowly lost contact— he didn’t know how to function without you! John-ah was like a blind man, stumbling around, aimless. But one day... it somehow all changed.”

“How?” you asked quietly.

“I found him in his room one day, one of the times he came back home. He was reading some of the Post-It notes he would randomly stick around his room, and it looked faded. I couldn’t see it, of course, but I saw John-ah slip into his pocket. The night I saw him, his eyes were bright, his shoulders, determined. His company took off right after he visited.”

Mrs. Suh stopped cleaning as she gazed at her boy, a small smile playing at her lips.

“I’m so proud of the man he has become. Yet… yet he’s told me he doesn’t feel satisfied, you know? Like there’s something empty in his chest. Like he’s looking for something but he doesn’t know what.”

Your breath caught in your throat and your heartbeat started to pound in your ears. How… how could it be so similar? How could he feel the exact same as what you do?

“Personally, I...I think he needs a family. He wants a girl he can love, and, dear god, you don’t know how much he wants kids.”

If you bit any harder, your lip would bleed onto your pretty dress.

“John-ah… you don’t see the look in his eyes when we pass by a child. He just completely stops listening to the conversation, and it’s like he can’t look away. He told me about your friend’s daughter— Callie, yes?— and then he finally realized how much he wanted kids. So, so much.”

A fine tremor wracked your hand as you put away the plates, lost in your thoughts. It wasn’t as if you were shocked, oh no. It was more the fact that you could finally see it: you and Johnny, looking into each other’s eyes, in each other’s loving embrace as your children with your hair and his eyes slept in the crib in front of you.

Distractedly, you toweled the rest of the dishes and kissed her cheek as you shuffled off to the living room.

“Y/N, dear,” she called out after you.

“Yes, Auntie?”

Her eyes suddenly seemed so old.

“You don’t know how scared he was when he thought Callie was yours.”

As promised, the next day Johnny took you out to the best coffee place in your hometown. Broken Egg Cafe was a small place squeezed in between a boutique and an alcohol store on main street, and it was as shabby as it looked on its facade. Mix and match furniture dotted the rustic food place, dim lighting providing an ambient atmosphere. The cafe was the usual haunt of the local community college kids who liked the hipster atmosphere and comfy spots. That, and it was the place where everyone knew that if you went on a date, you were seriously committed to each other.

Trying not to dwell on it, you sat patiently while scrolling through your phone. A grin lit up your face as you saw the series of photos Mrs. Suh had posted on Facebook, all of the Suh family dinner you partook in. You clicked the heart and saved all the photos, and, embarrassingly, the one where Johnny had led you to the table. You were grinning at each other, his hand resting on your shoulder, as Mr. Suh was reached for something out of frame. Quickly, a few taps had replaced the generic background of your phone with the picture.

Funnily enough, all the photos posted had included you in it. Call yourself crazy, but you expected Mrs. Suh to post a few of her and her husband, or her and her son— but no. You could even see the ones where visible sweat gleaned from your brow, shakily smiling after Johnny had played footsie under the table.

“Y/N!”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. You gave him a quick glance over and, wow, he looked devilishly handsome today. An old Ramones shirt half-tucked into skinny jeans was an interesting contrast to his usual business attire, his ratty converse slapping on the wood beams as he strode towards you.

He evidently saw your glance-over as a shit-eating grin graced his lips, and you could only ignore the heat in your cheeks then bury your head into his chest.

“Hey sweet girl, how are you?” he whispered into your ear, your shoulders tensing as a breath of hot air hit your sensitive neck.

“Well, you?” you murmured near his neck.

“Great as you can be waiting for the reunion tonight,” he snickered.

A snort passed your lips as you flopped down onto the couch, tucking your feet under you and propping your head on your palm. His lanky figure settled into the couch, limbs comfortably positioned to face you.

“I ordered your ridiculous drink, you know. Grande Chai Tea Latte, 3 Pumps, Skim Milk, Lite Water—”

“—no foam, extra hot?” you asked disbelievingly.

“Yes, your frou-frou white girl drink that’ll cause cavities,” he grumbled.

“I could kiss you, you know that?” you blurted, eyes glued to the server bringing you your drink.

He murmured something as you said your thanks to the server, grasping the cup with 2 hands.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

You rolled your eyes and knocked your knee against his. “Didn’t Auntie tell you to stop doing that?”

Soon, a light hearted conversation reminiscing about the past started up. You could both of you slip back into that easy rhythm that was your dynamic back in high school, joking and ranting to each other. You laughed about everything from the time he took up skateboarding and briefly became emo, the antics the band kids had gotten up to, and even your horrible experience with AP Calculus.

“And, oh my god, remember what Jake did at senior prom? I can’t believe he wasn’t expelled,” you said, eyes wide.

“Jake? My lord and savior, Jake?” Johnny asked, his grin widening. “Man, that was my bro. Swag brothers forever.”

“Johnny, he put smuggled in a chicken. To this day I don’t how he did that!”

“Secret.” He put a finger over his lips. “But, I will tell you I had to distract to Prom Committee by B-Boying.”

You shook your head, hiding a smile. “Prom was so fun, wasn’t it? The theme was great that year, they ordered great food—”

“—You went with me, duh—”

“—and I didn’t trip over my dress! You were an okay date for prom.”

Johnny gasped loudly, and laid a hand over his hard, clearly offended. “Excuse me? I clearly remember you made me trip during the last dance! Here I was, being a great date, leading us through the dance, and you placed a wrong foot forward. You!”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That was only because you–” you pressed a finger into his hard chest “–were too close.”

“Can you blame me?” he breathed.

It was in that moment you realized how close you were to him. Somehow, throughout the course of the conversation, you both had scooted closer to each other on the couch and ended up with both your legs tangled together.

“W-what are you talking about, Youngho?”

He sighed, his hands unconsciously seeking out yours. “Y/N, can I be honest?”

“Of course you can, you can always be with me,” you reassured, still confused as hell.

A soft smile came to his face. “I...  the day at the cafe. I was never in town to meet with my old investor. I came here, back to town and this reunion, in hopes of seeing my beautiful best friend.”

“I–”

“Hold on, let me… let me tell you what’s been on my mind.”

His thumb started stroking hands, your mind briefly registering the large difference in size before freaking out at how close he was to you.

“In high school, you were my only good friend. My pillar, my rock, the only one who held my hand before I became...me. From freshman to senior year, you enchanted me and I could only helplessly fall into you, like a singularity Mrs. Kee harped on about in Physics,” he chuckled.

“Sometimes, I would look at you and think, why me? You could have befriended every other boy, but no. It was me. Even when everyone made fun of me and rejected me, it was always me. And god, prom.”

“I was so damn close to telling you how I felt that night, dancing with you for the last song. I mentally prepared myself and everything, I needed to tell you before we graduated, and I opened my mouth and then it hit me: you deserve someone so much better. You had your whole life in front of you, and why should dorky ol’ me hold you back? I didn’t tell you, and I...I don’t regret it.”

Pain rippled over his face then he composed himself, his stare burning into yours.

“I was so lost without you for years. How could I be with you when I didn’t even know where I was going? But that one day… I decided I was going to find myself. Moved to Korea, started a company… you know the rest. I became the best I could be.”

Tears started to well up at the edges of your eyes, and as your lips quivered you brought a soft hand to cheek. You didn’t know his insecurity ran that deep; you thought those little self-deprecating jokes were just that–jokes. What kind of best friend were you that you let him think so badly of himself, from high school and the years that followed?

He leaned into your touch, and the tension evaporated from his broad shoulders.

“10 years later, and I think that maybe, maybe I’m good enough for myself– good enough for you. So I sign myself up for this stupid little reunion, fly back home, yet in that little cafe I was so unprepared to see you.”

His lips brushed over your palm, like the brush of silk, and then he leaned back.

“When I saw you that day, it felt like a dream. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing you for real and when I knew, I was so fucking happy. And, like a cruel imitation of prom, something held me back.”

“I didn’t realize that maybe you moved on without me, maybe you had a family and a new best friend. I felt so stupid at the time, seeing you look so beautiful, thinking I could just waltz back in we could pick up where we left off. It’s no excuse, but it’s why I lied and was a complete asshole towards you. I was so disappointed in myself.”

You couldn’t hear anything around you, see anything around you, and was engulfed by the vision of your best friend looking at you like a prayer.

“What do you feel now, Youngho?” you whispered.

“I will always see you as my everything.”

His lips brushed against your forehead and he walked out before you could process anything.

“Thanks!” Cynthia calls out as she exits the Uber Black XL. You give a wan smile to the driver as you carefully step out onto the pavement.

The golden sign of the Langham shone bright against the rapidly darkening Chicago skyline, reflecting off the mirror-like glass. Perhaps it was the fact that you were a New Yorker, or the fact you were shivering and it wasn’t because of the cold, but you could not concentrate on the sight at all.

“Isn’t this place gorgeous? The girls and I worked hard to get a banquet hall here, like, hard. Who cares about the thirty minute drive when you can get a place like this?” your friend calls out excitedly, sweeping an arm to emphasize to view.

“You did well for yourselves this time. I bet the committee for the class before ours is steaming,” you shakily joked. Well, not quite. As said before, school reunions were huge for your school, each class trying to outdo each other at every turn, from the venue to the catering and more. Your class must be feeling quite proud right now.

“I bet this is so-so for you, city girl,” she ribbed. A yelp escaped your lips, accusingly looking towards her as you rubbed the spot where she elbowed you. “Oh shut up, PTA mom.”

No matter how much you liked to tease her, Cynthia looked the opposite of a PTA mom tonight. Her cocktail attire hugged her post-pregnancy curves, but, looking at her now, she looked like a mix of her youthful party persona with worldly maturity. She definitely would be turning a few heads tonight.

“C’mon, city girl, let’s go. I need to see if everything is perfect!” 

Your 10-year high school reunion was held in a ballroom 2 stories above the street, sumptuous in its decoration and looking more like a corporate dinner than anything else. Dozens of circular tables dotted the floor of the room, each set in the green and gold of your high school colors. A particularly large “Go Spartans! Class of 2XXX” sign was posted right outside the door, attracting people to sign their names onto the banner with a flourish. While you and Cynthia were on time, many people had shown up and milled about the room.

“Oh my god, there’s our val! Let’s see if she’s something cool or just peaked in high school,” Cynthia whispered conspiratorially, dragging your unsure figure towards the crowd.

You tried your best to greet everybody in the large ballroom, but a certain man was still lingering at the forefront of your mind. Every few seconds, you would catch yourself glancing around nervously, especially towards the large double doors that heralded anyone’s arrival. Eventually, when you caught yourself gravitating closer to the entrance, you knew you were being ridiculous.

An expensive-sounding roar sounded outside the building, and a collective head turn had the crowd’s eyes riveted on a white car in the valet lane of the hotel. You didn’t know much about cars, but even looking at it 2 stories up, it looked like something out of a movie. Male murmurs of appreciation were heard as the butterfly doors of the car opened up, even bystanders stopping and staring. You felt a sinking feeling at the bottom of your stomach as a good-looking man in a grey suit stepped out, his black wavy hair visible from a distance.

God, how were you even supposed to talk to Johnny? Somehow, telling him “I’ve secretly pined over you for years and would like to have your babies” didn’t quite do it for you.

“Y/N? Oh my gosh!”

Not this shit again.

Repressing an oncoming headache, you plastered your best fake smile that you put on especially for disagreeable clients and turned towards the snooty, entitled voice that was so familiar.

“Victoria! Wonderful to see you again,” you simpered. Goodness, you could see her fake tan glowing radioactively in the dim light.

“Oh, come here! It’s great to see you here, don’t you look just fab.” Victoria threw her arms out, as if you two were the best of friends, and you stepped into a polite embrace. Granted, now you could see her typical Brooks Brother dress was well-fitted, but screamed “country-club mom!” in your face.

“You’ve got to meet my husband. James, come here!”

A well-built man in a tailored navy suit lumbered towards her, two champagne flutes in his hands. Gazing at his chiseled features and neat blond hair, you could admit Victoria had caught quite the catch.

“Victoria,” he murmured, handing a glass to her. He caught sight of you, his eyes roving predatorily over your body that made you shiver in a not-so-nice way. 

“Sweetheart, would you care to introduce me to your friend?” he said, not taking his eyes off of you.

She clearly noticed the way he was speaking to you, her lined eyes narrowing and her lips curling into a snarl.

“Husband, this is Y/N, an acquaintance of mine. We didn’t hang out with the same crowd, she preferred those geeky types,” Victoria emphasized, making it clear that you were undesirable.

He hummed while still looking at your legs and you could spot the signs of a dysfunctional marriage right away. You saw it in the men you worked with, obviously bored with a taste for female coworkers, even though his wedding band shone bright on his left hand. You sort of felt bad for her, no matter how much of a bitch she was to you.

“Anyways, I saw you were looking for someone. Did you bring any hot hubby?” she giggled a bit too brightly.

You smiled tightly. She was clearly trying to humiliate you, but once her dear husband found out you were single, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself cornered in a hallway. “Not today, Vicky,” you said, knowing it would irritate the hell out of her. Victoria hated the nickname ‘Vicky’, claiming it sounded too country-bumpkin for her tastes.

“That’s right! You’re single, with your fancy office job and all–”

“Y/N, I was looking for you.”

It felt like your senses were on superdrive, hyper-alert of the man standing behind you.

You really weren’t prepared for this. You really, really weren’t. You hadn’t had any time to mentally or emotionally prepare for when you spoke to Johnny the next time you saw him, cowardly languishing in a pool of anxiety and insecurity.

Well, you were L/N Y/N. Hired straight out of college for J.P. Morgan. You were promoted and trusted because you could handle high pressure situations like this. So, you put on your big girl face and turned to see Johnny.

His smirking lips were the first thing you saw, and then his eyes, wolfish and sharp. Johnny was indeed the man in the grey suit with the fancy car, and you could see the way this particular get-up highlighted his lean figure.

“Johnny, hey,” you smiled softly, though you were sure there was a nervous lilt to your voice. Evidently, he caught on as his smirk widened and he stepped closer to you. The whiplash was real. One moment he was a lovestruck boy confessing to you in a coffee shop and the next he was a smooth-tongued man that made your knees weak.

“Johnny Suh? Mister Johnny Suh?”

The pair of you looked towards Victoria’s husband, whom looked awe-struck.

“Yes?” Johnny asked, eyes settling on the man in front of him.

There was no masculine size-up moment you’ve always seen in Wall street meetings, but James postured and simpered his way to Johnny.

“It’s great to meet you! I’m James Bouchard, a financial analyst. I worked with Banksy’s finance department before on the 2015 Orchard project.”

A charming smile made its way onto Johnny’s face, the perfect picture of a suave businessman. As great as it was looking at Johnny in his natural element, it was infinitely more amusing to watch the changing moods on Victoria’s countenance. Currently, she was stuck on shock as she learned more about the boy she shunned.

“Is Ms. Y/N your lovely wife? My wife just introduced me to her, you caught a great one,” he winked, trying to flatter Johnny’s ego. 

Your best friend (crush? Classmate? Acquaintance?) merely chuckled and snaked an arm around your waist. He looked down at you with undisguised admiration, making you blush and look away. “I’d say she was the one that caught me, since we’ve been best friends since high school. Although, your wife didn’t quite seem to like me in high school. Pity.” Unable to resist, you looked sharply up at him. Since when were you his wife? Well, not that you’d protest, but these kinds of decisions require two consenting adults!

James looked down on his wife with malice in his eyes for potentially ruining a lucrative connection that she didn’t even know would exist. Victoria looked deeply embarrassed.

“Well, it was great seeing both of you! C’mon, James, dear, the food looks lovely,” she said brightly, beating out a hasty retreat with James angrily striding behind.

Sitting in silence for a few moments, you finally raised an eyebrow, a common signal that you used to ask him to ‘explain’. He opened his mouth, but a shout of his name had both of you turning towards the origin. Johnny rolled his eyes, and went to speak to you again but louder, greater shouts interrupted him.

“Look, baby, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated at the interruption.

“Go to your swag bros, Johnny. I think they miss you,” you said drily as they began clanging glasses.

“You’re the best,” he kissed your forehead hurriedly. 

“Ooh-la-la, what was that about?” Cynthia sauntered up beside you, looking in the direction of the tall man.

“It was nothing, Cynthia.”

“Nothing? Johnny-with-the-great-biceps called you ‘baby’ and kissed you on the forehead, I don’t think that’s nothing.”

“Cynthia, I…” you bit your lip, discomfited.

Her eyes softened, seeing the deeply troubled set to your face.

“Let’s go to somewhere else.”

“—and now I don’t know what to do!”

Cynthia nodded mutely after hearing you explain the past days’ goings on, from the cafe to the walk and even to the dinner. She was uncharacteristically staying silent, soaking in the information as you recounted the tale.

She looked contemplative for a few moments, before her eyes sought yours. “You want to know what I think?”

“Aren’t you here for that?” you snapped.

She looked you dead in the eye. “You’re being an absolute idiot right now.”

You spluttered for a few seconds. “Uh- what? Hold on, Cynthia—”

“He’s deeply in love with you, and from what I’ve heard you sound like you feel the same. It’s that simple.”

“I-I—”

“Tell me right now, what would happen if he got married right now to someone that wasn’t you?”

“I would die before that would happen!” you snarled. Going back, you realized what you said and quickly deflated. “Well, I… I would be deeply devastated. God, Cynthia, from the time in school to now, I realized I love him. He’s my best friend, my pillar, my rock. He’s been there for me so many times I can’t even count it all.”

“And then it gets even worse knowing that he wants a family too. I don’t know if you know Cynthia, but I’m so lonely up in the big bright lights of New York. It’s gotten so bad that I’ve considered adopting and artificial insemination, even gone to an IVF clinic. But it won’t be the same, because I want a family and my belly round and my kids playing in the backyard, and it scares me that I can see it all with him.”

You sighed glumly. “I should’ve just confessed to him at prom.”

Cynthia smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you just tell him what you told me?”

“She just did.”

You both started violently, and saw a large shadow blocking the doorway.

Johnny.

Your girl best friend snorted and quickly exited, patting Johnny’s back on her way out.

“Johnny! You scared the hell out of me!” you scolded, your hand on your rapidly rising chest.

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest as he took a seat next to you.

“Do you have something to tell me, baby?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Yes.”

“Go on, sweet cheeks. I won’t judge.���

However, his smug grin of a man knowing what’s about to come told you otherwise.

“Johnny!” you whined, flinging a throw pillow at him.

He ducked and snickered. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop.”

You settled down and hugged yourself. “This may not be as long as what you said in the coffee shop, but Johnny… I’ve loved you since freshman year. I’ve loved you in every year after that, even when we got separated for almost a decade. I didn’t realize what I was missing in my life was you, that my life wasn’t right without my best friend by my side. When I came back home I wasn’t expecting anything, but I think an unconscious part of me hoped to see you. Everything I said with Cynthia is true and I—stop staring at me!’’

“I can’t, you’re too beautiful,” he deadpanned, but you saw the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

“Just kiss me you– you tub of lard!” 

Johnny effortlessly pulled you into his lap to straddle, arms snaking around your hips as he placed his lips onto yours.

All the tension immediately evaporated from your body, as your limbs felt like liquid in his arms. His tongue swiped against the bottom of your lips, and you found a shred of will inside of you and playfully resisted. He squeezed your side, the sensitive bit right under your breasts, and your lips parted automatically as you moaned.

You felt shivers wherever he touched you, but felt it was unfair he was giving and not receiving. Your nails combed through his hair, found a section of hair, tugged sharply.

He growled into the kiss and you felt his hard erection through his dress pants, poking at your inner thigh.

“Still think I’m a tub of lard?” he whispered at the corner of your mouth, flexing his thick thighs underneath you and pulling you closer to his rock-hard chest.

“Mmph, no, Johnny.”

His smoky eyes looked into yours. “Also, don’t, Y/N.”

“...what?” you said confusedly as you calmed down. Did you do something wrong?

“Don’t try to have kids through those… those methods.”

“Do you mean IVF? Artificial insemination?”

A nod.

A frown pulled at your lips and you leaned back unconsciously. “Johnny, don’t you understand? I want my own children so badly I can barely think, okay? I never thought I’d want to have one a few years ago, but call it mother’s instincts— “

“When you have a child, it’s going to be mine. You’re gonna have one the proper way—by me throughly fucking a baby into your cunt,” he hissed through his teeth, right into your ear.

Goosebumps rose along your skin and you clenched his shoulders harder as he suckled kisses along the side of your neck. With some, he even added little presses of the tongue, making you clench your legs around his torso tighter.

“My baby likes dirty talk, doesn’t she? Just like she liked my little game of footsie,” he laughed, puffs of air blooming on your sensitive skin.

“Johnny,” you weakly reprimanded. You then noticed the hands that were clasped at your knees, rubbing the sweet spot underneath, and felt a moisture pool in your lacy thong.

“So, whaddya say? You say yes and I drive to my apartment and fuck you until your stomach swells with my children, or I do it regardless of where we are.”

You finally realize you are heavily making out in a side hallway where someone could see you easily. While the idea was tempting, if not a bit hot, you visualize your naked bodies writhing as he slides in and out of you—

“Yes, please, Johnny, please.”

The ride to his apartment was surprisingly comfortable. After hastily leaving the party, you two hopped into his butterfly sports car and roared down the avenue.

Don’t get it wrong, the sexual tension was there and as present as ever, but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest. You folded your legs up to the side and leaned towards him, his right hand softly stroking your knee while he zoomed down the streets of Chicago.

An elevator ride later, you were admiring the night Chicago skyline from Johnny’s bedroom window as he pressed kisses onto your shoulders.

“Youngho,” you sighed, leaning into him.

He hummed and nipped lightly at your neck.

“C’mon babe, undress for me.”

He sauntered back to the bed as you fumbled with the pins in your hair, shaking your hair loose of the tight up-do it had been in.

You looked back to see Johnny at the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide and leaning back with an arm.

“I haven’t done this in a long time, so I’m probably going to disappoint you,” you warned as you set down the pins with a clink.

“Indulge me. I’ve been fantasizing about this moment since Junior year,” he smirked lazily.

You cast a doubtful look towards him, but obliged nonetheless.

Starting with your jewelry, you unclasped your necklace, earrings, and watch and carefully set them on the counter. Your heels were kicked off to the side, and that was left was your dress. You breathed in deeply and released, methodically unbuttoning your dress until it fell with a soft whisper on the floor.

You looked through your curtain of hair to gauge his reaction and Johnny looked dazed, his eyes slightly glassy with his mouth slightly parted.

“Youngho?”

“C’mere.”

You was sure your gait resembled a newborn foal rather than some sultry vixen, but Johnny did not seem to care. He pulled you into his lap once again, but this time sideways.

His kisses trailed innocently at the top of your bra and you find yourself impatient. “I thought you were going to fuck my cunt?” you pronounced succinctly.

Johnny’s teeth bit harshly at the tops of your breasts, eliciting a harsh hiss from you. “Now you’ve done it, baby.”

You giggled as he practically threw you onto the bed, a male moan of appreciation slipping from his lips when he saw you splayed out for him. He ducked in to steal a kiss, supporting himself with his toned arms and you grasped the back of his head.

Johnny licked a long stripe on your clavicle as you gave a sharp tug on the knot of his tie. Removing the black tie, your fingers quickly got to work unbuttoning his shirt. He got on his knees to tug it off in one glorious motion, exposing his well-built chest to your hungry eyes.

It was surreal to see this Johnny kneeling before you, topless and licking his lips, and it was hard to find any trace of the boy in Naruto pajamas everywhere.

“Get up for me baby, scoot up a bit,” he urged.

As you obeyed, you took the chance to slip off your bra. Heat rose to stay permanently on your cheeks as you unclasped it and shrugged it off. You nipples quickly stiffened to the air and Johnny looked absolutely delighted.

Your eyes tracked him as he leaned forward and carefully weighed one in his large hands. His thumb brushed the soft underside of your breast and your shoulders quivered like a leaf in the wind.

“All for me to play with?” he said under his breath, looking entranced by the pliant flesh in his hands.

Getting between your legs, his tongue laved at the skin of your breasts, “accidental” licks getting you to squirm. Johnny’s plump lips continued their trail to your stomach and finally kissed the edges of your thong.

“May I?” he asked formally, raising his gleaming eyes to yours.

You nodded and his nimble fingers dragged your panties down, forcing you to brace your calves against his shoulders. He tossed them carefully to the vanity before lowering himself to eye level with your pussy.

“My pretty baby has such a pretty pussy, doesn’t she?” he cooed, thumbs rubbing the crux of your thighs.

Whining in agreement, you opened your legs wider for his perusal and looked away in embarrassment.

Johnny tsked and forced your chin to look at down at him. “Look at me.”

He wouldn’t let go until you leaned your head into his palm. He held eye contact with you as he slowly pressed his lips against your labia, your eyes widening and mewl escaping your lips.

You slammed your hand against your mouth as he began exploring, curling into the pillow and looking heavenward. His tongue peaked out and caressed the hood of your clit, beckoning for it to come. You muffled a scream when he used his tongue more liberally, reaching deeper and curling into the walls of your pussy. Your hips lifted off the mattress as you writhed underneath his torturous tongue until Johnny’s hands clamped down and forced your limbs onto the bed.

He was truly gifted at this, easily finding the spots that made you squirm. It felt like hours passed as he used his flexible tongue on you, playing you easily, and you slipped in and out of reality. But then he suckled, and you lost it.

Your limbs flailed as you wailed, suffocated with a blanket of pleasure. You had no idea what to do with your hands, switching places from tugging at your hair to squeezing your arms and even grasping Johnny’s thick locks until you settled for grasped the edges of the pillow next to you.

“No! Johnny, I- I can’t— oh my god—Agh!”

He shushed you quickly, murmuring “you can take it” against your thighs. You felt the pressure inside your stomach build, holding your breath as it inched closer and closer to that edge. Johnny finally pressed his thumb against your clit and you let out a full-throated scream, succumbing to the wave of pleasure dragging you under. Your knees knocked together painfully and you slid further down the mattress, pussy gushing out underneath you.

But no; he cruelly drew it out, kept on rubbing circles into your sensitive flesh until your eyes rolled to the back of your head and were unable to speak.

A few breathless moments passed and he broke the silence. “Not only are my oral skills great, but my oral skills are too” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes, before yelping as one of the aftershocks wracked your limbs.

Johnny merely chuckled before flipping you onto your stomach, face down on the mattress. Peeking over your shoulder, you glimpsed Johnny tugging off his pants and boxers until his hard erection stood proud, springing back and forth in the air. You gulped; it was a beautiful pink, veiny as hell, topped with a mushroom tip oozing out pre cum. Most importantly, it was huge —you had no idea he was packing that underneath his gym shorts— and looked to be the girth of your wrist.

“Johnny, i-is it gonna fit?” you stuttered nervously.

He smiled proudly at you, his hand stroking his cock up and down. “You have one tight pussy, love, but I’ve prepped you a lot and we’ll make it work. Don’t worry, okay?”

With that he forced your head against the sheets, taking away your vision completely. You felt extremely vulnerable with your butt raised high up in the air, but Johnny quickly grasped your hips and rubbed his cock against the seam of your pussy lips, lathering it in your cum.

“Tell me, baby, how much do you want this?”

“So much!” you murmured into the mattress.

He thrust his hips just a bit and his tip quickly slid in and out of you. “What was that?”

“Johnny, please! I want it so much!” you moaned into the mattress.

“Say it. I want to hear filth from your pretty lips,” he hissed, sounding impatient. He certainly felt impatient, his hands gripping your hips so hard they would surely bruise and his erection throbbing against your quim.

“I want you to fuck me raw with your huge cock! I want your cum leaking from my pussy—please, Johnny, please! Fuck me!” you cried.

“My dirty girl,” he purred. HIs lined his cock up with your entrance and slowly sank in, both of you groaning reactively. His dick stretched you and it toed the line between pain and pleasure but, nevertheless, you sunk your hips into his.

“Not— not too fast, Youngho. You’re really, really big,” you whimpered. He waited for a while before leisurely thrusting in and then picking up pace.

“Oh fuck, Youngho, just like that,” you moaned. He also let out strangled groans of pleasure, echoing in his large bedroom. Crude slaps of flesh against flesh reverberated in your ears, puncturing the sound of blood roaring in your veins. His testes smacked periodically against your clit and you could not stop the indecent noises coming from your mouth.

“Good?” he grunted, his sweaty black bangs sticking to his forehead as he thrust. You could imagine his chest gleaming with sweat from the city lights and the image made you wetter, if possible.

A particularly sharp thrust jolted your hips, and kept his hips flush against yours with his cock in you. “I said, good?”

“Fuck, I like it—it’s so good— and, oh my gosh, I love it, I love it, I love it—” you rambled incoherently.

He snorted and pulled out.

“Youngho, don’t stop—”

“Get on your back, baby. Let me see you.”

With great effort, you rolled over and your vision of him did no justice. He looked ethereal, gleaming in his sweat. Shadows played across his body as his muscles flexed and contracted and you were breathless.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Y/N.”

A terrible mixture of excitement and arousal arose from you. The idea of him fucking you full of his come and looking down at your round belly was almost too much. You whined up at him, wiggling your hips.

He tsked in disapproval. “Nuh-uh, legs up, sweetheart. Missionary is the best way to get you pregnant.”

You truly were worried that your arousal would leak down your legs as you lifted your limbs up to his broad shoulders. He firmly grasped the sides of your stomach and pulled you closer to him.

As you were watching him with a sort of breathless excitement, he was glued to the sight of his cock sinking into your pussy, bewitched by the way your folds parted for his cock like the blooming of a flower. Johnny quickly put a hand over the lower half of your stomach, thrusting robustly upwards and while you screamed, he wore a shit-eating grin on his face.

“W-What is it, Johnny?” you breathed harshly.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned loudly as he thrust once more. “F-feel this, baby.”

He put your hand where his had previously been and thrust upwards. Your lips parted in wonder when you felt a small bulge form underneath your hand. His cock was that big?

“Holy—Agh!— shit,” you pant.

His eyes flared with lust as he rammed his cock in again, just to see that little bump appear, and did so again and again until you heard his fancy bed frame start to creak.

This position was by far the best, even if it was good ol’ missionary. The slight curve to his cock caused the head to press deliciously into the walls of your pussy, and you felt him much closer than ever before.

You could spot his thick, muscled thighs ripple with the effort he was putting into fucking you and gripped the sheets much harder. Noises of content, ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck’s!’ spat out with increasing frequency, permeated the air thick of the scent of sex and sweat.

He slipped your legs off his shoulders and around his waist before supporting himself above you with his veiny forearms. “Homestretch, baby.”

You were cut off from snorting as you screamed, his cock ramming into your hips. In-and-out, the delicious stretch repeating over and over again until you felt a familiar haze spread over you.

“I’m going to stuff you full of cum, Y/N. I’m going to knock you up with the baby you so desperately want, right? A baby with my eyes and your hair?” he growled.

You heart skipped a beat. How did he know what you saw?

“Mmm! Yes, yes! I’ll be barefoot and pregnant for you!”

“Your pussy takes my cock so well, baby, so well, you don’t even know. Fuck, I’m just imagining my cum on your pretty pink pussy lips.”

He went in so deep, until you felt his balls pressing into your ass and the tip of his cock pressing into your womb.You felt so filled, physically and emotionally, as you basked in the man thrusting into you like a piston.

The same in-and-out of reality experience occurred and you found your eyes rolling back into your head, not registering anything else. You felt like you were sinking in molasses, pleasure and bliss cocooning you tight and secure. The familiar wave was starting to build up again.

You came back to your senses as his hand drifted in between you and hovered near the crux of your thighs. In concurrence with his solid thrusting, his thumb began harshly rubbing circles into your clit, zings of delight firing over your whole body.

“Cum, baby, I know you want to. I can feel your tight pussy fluttering all over my cock,” he grunted.

His cock hit your cervix and your hands made vicious marks against his back as you wailed loudly in pleasure. The wave had crested but Johnny had not stopped whatsoever. Your best friend was still in desperate search for his peak that he thrust even faster, overstimulating you so much you inadvertently thrashed to get away from him.

A choked cry left your lips as he ruthlessly pulled your hips back and inserted his cock again, this time slamming into you with a force caused loud creaks from the bed frame.

“You don’t get to stop until there’s a goddamn baby in you. God, I’m going to cum so fucking hard.”

“Fill me up, Johnny.” you goaded. “Make me yours forever. Put a fucking baby in my belly.”

“Shit!” he hissed out.

You felt the spurts of his come from the tip and you wrapped yourself around him tighter as he let out a strangled moan, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Biting the spot between your collarbone and your neck, Johnny added to the collection of red and purple you were sure was already there. He gave little staccato thrusts as you felt more and more cum fill up your pussy, until an obscene squelching sound was heard as he was moving in and out of you.

He panted for a few moments, kneeling back onto the bed and spreading your legs wide. You attempted to cover your seeping pussy but he brushed your hand aside and focused on the small stream of white leaking.

“You look gorgeous like that, Y/N. Tired and sated with my cum leaking out of you.”

You scooped up some of the excess and brought it to your lips, sucking his salty cum off of your fingers one by one. You raised an eyebrow.

He groaned and wrapped you into his side, as if asking the universe “What am I going to do with her?”. You smiled snuggled into his side, happy that you finally weren’t alone anymore.

“Johnny... I’m ovulating today. There is a huge, huge chance of me getting pregnant. D-do you really, really want to this baby? Do you really… do you really want a family? With me?” you whispered.

“Let me show you something.” He climbed out of bed, naked as the day he was born, and returned to the room a navy suit jacket when you saw him at the cafe. He pulled out one of the heart-shaped pink Post-It notes you gave to him ironically during sophomore year and handed it to you.

On the paper, it had a date and some scribbled words.

11/4/2XXX

I’m going to marry Y/N.

“I wrote that in 10th grade,” he murmured beside you. “I’m more confident in myself that I can owe up to those words. I feel like… like I’m worthy of you now.”

“Oh, Youngho,” you sighed, thumb stroking his plump lips. You kissed them and smiled up at the man who was your best friend, your lover—the man you wanted to marry and have kids with. How could you ever repay him for making you feel whole again?  “I accept the you from then and the you now. Whatever you are and wherever you are, you are always worthy of love.”

Please don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! I would also really appreciate that if you liked my work enough, that you would consider supporting me by buying me a kofi at ko-fi.com/caiuscassiuss. Thank you so much for reading!

[hyuniepot]

the butterfly effect. || chapter 6

chapter word count || 5,372

genre || thriller, angst, drama

members || mark lee, na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck, zhong chenle, park jisung

warnings || mentions of death, implications of depression

pairing || fem!reader x jaemin || slight fem!reader x mark

synopsis || you never thought you’d be able to play with fate so easily, especially not through some shady app. but you suddenly must say goodbye to what you know and hello to a new world where everything seems perfect.

taglist || @gothboyjisung​ @jeongyoonohs @doiewonu @huanginjoon​ @wordsgodeep @colpen

previous chapter

You woke up way later than usual. You were still in the clothes you wore yesterday. You immediately got up and showered, changing into a new pair of clothes.

You woke up way later than usual. You were still in the clothes you wore yesterday. You immediately got up and showered, changing into a new pair of clothes.

You woke up way later than usual. You were still in the clothes you wore yesterday. You immediately got up and showered, changing into a new pair of clothes.

When you were done, you checked your phone.

Mark

hey, when do u wanna hang out?

you can come over here if u want.

or whatever. its fine

oh, you probably aren’t awake yet….

lol. let me know when ur awake.

You smile.

You

hey im awake now

i can come over to ur place, is any time fine?

i just gotta get ready and stuff

You set your phone down and look at yourself in the mirror, continuing to dry your hair. You know you still had to make your final decision on whether you were going to leave or not. Your mind couldn’t make a decision. There were pros and cons to doing both.

If you were to go back, you’d return to a life with no Mark and a Jisung who isn’t happy. But you’d have Hyuck. You’d have Jaemin, and Jeno and Renjun. You’d have your old friends back. You could use what you learned here to fix your life.

But Mark. He was the only thing stopping you. You wanted to take him along with you but you knew it was impossible. You just couldn’t imagine leaving him again when you had spent so long yearning for him to be back.

You jump at the sound of your phone dinging.

Mark

yea, come on over. i’ll be here all day hahah

You

got it. i’ll be there soon

You then clicked on Hyuck’s name to text him.

You

i know this is annoying but please give me the time i need. i’ll let you know tonight what my decision is.

You turned your phone off, grabbing your camera and putting it in your new bag. Jisung was in his room so you gently knock and wait for a response.

Jisung opens the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you respond. “I’m gonna go to Mark’s today, are you gonna be okay here alone?”

Your mother’s workload had definitely decreased, but she still worked long hours. You only got to see her in the mornings before school.

Jisung nods. “Yep, that’s fine.”

“Okay.” you exhale. “I’ll see you later, then.”

He nods, and you turn away and head downstairs. You make your way outside and start your journey to Mark’s house. Luckily, you had gone there once since you showed up, so you knew your way.

Everything was still so familiar. Of course it was; this was the town you grew up in after all. And that’s why it was so hard to differentiate from your old life sometimes. Everything still felt right at times.

You were glad Mark didn’t live too far away. You spotted him outside, sitting on one of the concrete stairs that lead to the porch. His face lights up when he spots you, getting up and making his way to you.

“What’s up?” he smiles.

“Nothing,” you reply. “What’s the plan for today?” you both continue making your way to his house.

“I don’t have anything planned, really…” he says, scratching his head. “We just chill for a bit and then figure out something if you want.”

You nod, going up the stairs to his porch. He opens the door, letting you in. You follow him up to his room, suddenly feeling nervous. You hadn’t been alone with Mark like this. You barely even knew how to be around him without feeling awestruck.

He opens the door to his room and it hits you. It was so perfectly… him. It was just what you expected, what you always imagined it would look like. An acoustic guitar stood in the corner of his room, bed haphazardly made. A record player was set up on the left side, the records he owned displayed on a nearby shelf. Posters of all different subjects were taped on the wall, some personal photos mixed in. You spotted one of you and Mark as children, one of the photos you always looked at when you missed him.

It hurt to look at everything. But you had to force your emotions aside.

“Yeah, had to switch up the old room,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. “I think this looks way cooler.”

You nod. “It looks great.” your voice is barely audible. You couldn’t take your eyes off the photos on the wall.

“Oh,” Mark notices you staring at the wall. He walks to where his bed is, squatting down and pulling a book out from under it. “I found a whole photo album of old photos.” he says. He motions you to come sit down next to him, and you oblige.

He opens it. The first few pages were photos of him as a baby, but it quickly changed to photos of him as a kid. It didn’t take long for you to appear. You had seen them all before, but it was still nice to look at them. There were even pictures from your trip to the butterfly enclosure, an unsure look plastered across your face. Mark was beaming.

“Do you remember this?” Mark puts his finger on an old photo of you and him at a fair — huge grins on both of your faces. He laughs. “We rode a ride and I swore I was gonna get sick after it. You were so freaked out by it that you avoided me until I convinced you I felt better.”

You laugh. You did remember it. You remembered running away from him and staying at least 10 feet away until you finally gave in.

He turns a few pages. It was time to look at photos that you had never seen, stories that you had never heard, the things that could have been. You just tried to keep your breathing steady.

There’s a picture of you and him together in somewhat formal clothing — probably your first highschool dance. Hyuck and another boy you didn’t recognize stood behind you, giving both you and Mark bunny ears.

“You remember Johnny, right?”

That must have been the other boy. You just nodded. Of course, you had no idea who he was.

“He moved here when we were like 12, right?” he looks at the photo. “I miss him. I don’t get to talk to him a lot because he travels so he’s always in a different timezone but… when I do, it’s like he never left.” he adds.

You wrack your brain — did you ever know anyone named Johnny? You were sure you didn’t. He didn’t exist in your old life. But he had somehow been a part of your life in this universe at some point. He was visibly older — not by too much, but he was definitely more mature. It didn’t help that Mark had a baby face. He had brown, medium length hair that was kind of shaggy. He seemed charming. But since there was no sign of him in your phone, you assumed you didn’t keep in touch with him.

Mark flips the pages a few more times. There’s a picture of you, Mark, and Hyuck on what seemed to be your last halloween together. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when, but you were probably 14 or 15. You were dressed up as Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Hyuck was dressed as the beast and Mark was dressed as Lumière, the candlestick.

You look at the girl in those photos. You wished you had her brain; You wished you remembered everything the way she did. Looking at yourself in the photos didn’t feel right. No matter what you did, you couldn’t convince yourself that it was you. Because technically, it wasn’t. Where was that girl now? Was she living your old life? Spending her days with Jaemin, desperately wishing for Mark?

“Are you okay?” you snap back to reality at the sound of Mark’s voice. He had closed the book and was looking at you with a concerned look on his face.

You let out an awkward chuckle. “Oh… yeah. I’m fine… I just kinda zoned out.”

“Yeah… you’ve been doing that a lot lately…” Mark stands up and slides the book back under his bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You don’t want to reply. Your eyes start burning with tears.

“Yeah,” you reply softly.

“That’s why I wanted to hang out with you today. You’ve seemed so… off lately… No offense,” Mark sits back down and looks at you. “I don’t mean that in a mean way, I just mean… it seems like something is bothering you and… are you crying?”

Tears finally escape your eyes, cascading down your cheeks. You stay silent as Mark wraps his arms around you, tightly hugging you.

“Oh god, oh no… I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” Mark says.

You can’t help but smile as you cry into his chest. “No… it’s not your fault…”

He pulls away from the hug. “Is something actually wrong? You know you can talk to me… I heard bottling up your emotions isn’t healthy…”

You take your time collecting yourself to try and think of an excuse. Obviously you couldn’t tell him the real reason why you seemed so out of it -- oh yeah, Mark, I’m from a universe where you died and I ended up here because I used some app to wish for you back and I have literally no idea what’s going on half the time.

“I’m just stressed,” you tell him. “I’ve never been this stressed so I don’t really know how to deal with it.”

“Ah…” Mark nods. “I get it… I mean, we’re in our last year of school. Everyone’s gonna expect us to act like adults soon. It’s… scary.”

You nod, wiping your tears. I wish that was what I was stressed about.

And that’s when it clicks. You realize you don’t belong here. You were destined to live in a world without Mark. But that thought only makes you start crying again.

Mark hugs you again. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “Just let it out, okay?”

So you do. You let everything out. Your shoulders shake as you sob. To anyone, it would seem like you’re overreacting. Sobbing in your best friend’s arms because you’re stressed. But this was the one thing you felt like could make you feel better.

For years, you laid in your bed alone, sobbing because you missed Mark. Because you felt guilty. And if you weren’t crying over him, you wished he was there to comfort you. And now it finally happened, and you were gonna relish the moment. This was all you ever wanted.

You feel guilty — Mark just wanted to hang out and here you were, making him comfort you as you cried for God knows what.

You force yourself to stop crying. Mark lets you go and levels himself with you, wiping your face with his thumb. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks. “We’re best friends… you can tell me anything, y’know?”

You nod. “I know… I just… didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Mark furrows his brows. “Hey come on, don’t say that. You wouldn’t be bothering anyone. Don’t think like that.”

You hiccup. You could feel that your face was puffy from crying.

“Okay,” Mark stands up. “I think this calls for some relaxation, right? I’m gonna get a bunch of blankets and we’re just gonna lounge.” He grabs a spare blanket and wraps it around your shoulders, helping you stand up. He leads you to his basement. There was a large couch and a TV. You sit down.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Mark turns the TV on. “Okay. I’ll find something for us to watch. Get comfortable, okay?”

You scoot around for a bit before finding a comfortable spot. The crying you did made your eyelids heavy.

Mark joins you on the couch, clicking through the TV guide, searching for something to watch. He clicks on a movie before opening his arms. “Come here.”

Maybe it wasn’t right, but you let him hold you. You listen to his heartbeat, trying to keep yourself awake until you couldn’t fight it anymore.

[4:27 p.m.]

Your eyes flutter open. You glance around, taking in your surroundings and remembering you were in Mark’s basement. You realize you were still in his arms. You quickly sit up, making Mark jolt awake.

“Oh shit,” he says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Did we both fall asleep?” he chuckles.

You smile. “Yeah… looks like it.” You stretch your muscles. “Did you get to watch any of movie?”

“Nope.” Mark replies. “I think I fell asleep right after I realized you had,” he says softly.

You groan. “What time is it? We didn’t sleep through the day, did we?” you ask, suddenly nervous.

Mark pulls out his phone to check the time. He shakes his head. “Nope. Only about two and a half hours.”

You sigh in relief. It was still a long time, but at least it was still daytime. “Oh, good.”

“Do you wanna go get some food? We should probably get up so we don’t fall asleep again,” he laughs.

You smile. “Good idea.”

You both make your way upstairs and you retrieve your bag from Mark’s room before leaving the house. The weather, like yesterday, was nice. A light breeze blew, but it wasn’t cold thanks to the sun. You could hear children playing in a yard nearby. You and Mark made your way to a restaurant nearby. It was one that you didn’t recognize. It was a bit retro-themed and was decorated like a classic diner.

You and Mark sit down at a booth, looking at the menu. “We haven’t been to this place in forever… they got a bunch of new menu items.” Mark mumbles.

You look at the menu. It had all kinds of different types of burgers, but most importantly, milkshakes.

Mark gasped. “They got rid of the cookies ‘n cream milkshake? Are you kidding me?” he whines.

You laugh. “Really? That has to be a popular flavor.”

“Right? It’s so good too, I order it everytime. So why would they — oh, nevermind… they just rebranded it…” Mark says softly, hiding his face with the menu.

Your eyes find their way to the milkshakes; they had simply changed the name of the milkshake from Cookies ‘N Cream to Oreo. You giggle. “Dork.”

“Hey, come on! I was panicked, alright?” Mark laughs.

A waitress swings by and takes your orders — you just order a classic burger and fries with a milkshake with your favorite ice cream flavor.

You feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You pull it out to see who’s calling. It’s Hyuck. “Um,” you swallow hard. “I’m gonna go wash my hands real quick.” you tell Mark.

He nods. “Alright.”

You get up from the booth and quickly walk to the bathroom. You close the door behind you, praying that it was empty. “Hello?”

“God, took you long enough.” Hyuck mutters.

“Why’d you call?” you sigh.

“Because I think we need to actually talk about this… I mean, if you decide to leave, I need to be able to tell you when to send the message.” he replies.

You roll your eyes. “I told you I would let you know later. I’m with Mark right now.”

“Are you serious?”

You pause. It’s deathly quiet. You can feel Hyuck’s anger through the phone. “He wanted to hang out, he asked me last night when he dropped me off… did you really think I’d say no?”

“You should’ve,” he sighs. “You know you’re only making it harder on yourself.”

You knew he was right. “I just… wanted to make some final memories before possibly leaving,” you tell him.

“I… understand.” Hyuck adds quietly. You hear him sigh. “You know this is hard on me too, right? I’m sorry I keep being so pushy but… I just wanna get out of here.”

It’s silent again. For the first time, you realize you never even thought about how Hyuck felt. You knew he missed Mark just as much as you did.

“That’s why I’ve been kinda distancing myself from him. Because the first day we were here, it was hell. All I could think about was that day… it’s all I can think about.” he says. You can barely hear him.

“Hyuck…” you whisper.

“Being here… with him… it’s too much for me to handle. You don’t think I feel the same way? I know this is a universe where we could both be happy with Mark, but something keeps telling me I can’t stay here. Too much has changed. I can’t be comfortable here.” Hyuck’s voice starts trembling. “Which is why I refused to spend any time with Mark. Because he’s the only reason I want to stay. But I miss my old life. I miss my friends. I don’t know what the hell went wrong here, but my life is just so much shittier here. Everything that could’ve gone wrong feels like it went wrong.” he rants.

You feel so much guilt for not taking the time to think about why he’d want to leave. You spent so much time thinking about yourself and Mark because you knew you’d always have Hyuck.

“Not even Mark makes staying worth it.” he spits. You can’t tell if he’s angry or sad; it’s probably both. “We were so stupid for coming here,” he finally chuckles, although you can tell it isn’t from happiness. “We were so fucking stupid.”

“I know,” you reply softly.

“I’m sorry. Call me later, okay?”

He hangs up before you can say anything. You slowly put your phone down and shove it back into your pocket. You want to cry, but you’ve already spent too much time in here. You rush out of the bathroom, and instantly run into someone.

“I’m sorry,” you say, looking up at the person. Your heart almost stops.

“No worries,” Jaemin says, flashing you a polite smile.

Your heart starts pounding. You try to tell yourself to stop staring at him, but this was the first time you’ve seen him since coming here. He doesn’t look too different — hair is darker now but everything is the same. The same eyes you fell in love with. The smile that gave you butterflies in your stomach. He’s dressed in normal clothes, so that meant he was probably eating here alongside you and Mark.

You want to lunge towards him, hugging him so tightly he could never leave you again. But you finally just nodded and forced your legs to walk past him; they had started trembling and you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there. You were glad Mark’s back was to you. You sat back down at your seat, your hands now trembling

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You nod. You clear your throat. “Yeah… uh, sorry I took so long. My mom called while I was in there.”

“Oh, okay.” Mark takes a sip of his milkshake that had been set on the table while you were gone. “You’re not in trouble or anything, right?” he asks, eyes widening.

You smile. “No.”

“Okay, good! I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for hanging out with me or something…” Mark says.

You stir your milkshake with your straw. You weren’t feeling very hungry anymore, but after the first sip, it was too delicious to stop.

“(y/n)!” you hear a voice calling your name. You turn your head towards the direction it’s coming from.

Naeun walks to your table. “I didn’t even see you here! What’s up?” she smiles.

“Oh… nothing.” you reply, forcing a smile in return. “Me and Mark are just hanging out and we were hungry, so here we are.” you tell her.

“Of course. Partners in crime. Hi, Mark.” Naeun responds. “Jaemin brought me here. Can you believe I’ve never been here before? This place has been up for years and I’ve never had the chance.” she pouts.

“Really?” Mark speaks up. “You gotta try their milkshakes, they’re delicious.” he tells her.

Naeun chuckles. “Will do. What flavor did you get? It looks good.” she asks.

“Oh! Cookies ‘n cream. It’s my favorite.” he replies, smiling.

“That’s a good flavor.” You hear Jaemin before you see him. Why is he talking about ice cream? He can’t even eat dairy. You think.

“How would you know?” Naeun teases, as if she was a mind reader. “You can’t have ice cream.”

Jaemin enters your line of sight, wrapping an arm around Naeun’s shoulders. It feels like a gunshot to your chest. “Well, I’m not supposed to have it. But these milkshakes make all the pain worth it.” he jokes.

Mark laughs. “He’s right though. How’s it going, Jaemin? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Jaemin grins. “I’m doing good. School has been way harder lately, but…”

“Yeah, I would assume so. I can’t believe you got into that school, no offense…”

Jaemin chuckles. “None taken. I was surprised I got in, too. I just wish they had accepted me earlier so I wouldn’t have had to leave halfway through a school year. But, I come back here and visit almost every weekend, so…”

Watching Mark and Jaemin talk felt weird. You didn’t even know they knew each other. That also answered your question as to why you never saw Jaemin at school. You wonder what school he had been accepted to.

“Oh, how rude of me. Hey, (y/n). How are you?” Jaemin turns his attention to you. “I was gonna talk to you earlier but you ran away from me.” he laughs. “I didn’t even realize it was you until you were gone.”

“Sorry…” you say softly. “Um… I didn’t realize it was you either.”

You can feel Jaemin’s eyes piercing into you. You didn’t want to look at him. You couldn’t.

“Well, I’d love to hang out with you guys, but after we eat I have to drive Jaemin back home… maybe we could all hang out another time? Double dates, maybe?” she says, grinning.

“Date?” Mark asks, furrowing his brows. “I mean… yeah, we can hangout but…” he laughs awkwardly.

“I’m teasing,” she says, glancing at you. “Both of you get so defensive!” she jokes. “Not trying to pressure you guys, but you’d be really cute together.” she presses.

“Okay, Naeun, enough,” Jaemin chuckles. “Mark’s gonna explode if you keep going.”

You look at Mark, whose face was red from embarrassment.

“We’ll see you guys later then,” Naeun says. The couple walk away from your table, Jaemin’s arm still around her. Your throat gets tight.

“Gosh…” Mark giggles. “Sorry. Stuff like that just gets me embarrassed,” he says, shaking his head.

You smile. “It’s okay.”

A waitress comes to the table a few moments later and sets the food you ordered on the table. Your appetite had come back. Seeing the food made you realize how hungry you really were.

Mark takes a bite of his burger. “I swear this place always hits the spot,” he says.

He was right. The food was really good. You were actually kind of mad this restaurant didn’t exist in your universe. It was perfect.

“Are you okay?” Mark asks. It’s so sudden, your first response is to just stare at him with wide eyes.

You swallow your food. “Yeah, why?”

Mark shrugs. “I just wanted to check in. You kinda froze up when Naeun and Jaemin were talking to us.” he says softly.

“Oh…” you set your burger down. “I was feeling kind of awkward because I ran into Jaemin when I left the bathroom. And then I ran away from him,” you laugh.

“Ah,” Mark nods. “I see.”

“Yeah… I’m kind of good at that. Making everything awkward.” you chuckle.

“Oh, shush.” Mark laughs. “Have you ever met me?”

You giggle. “Okay, well… if you’re the most awkward person on the planet, then I’m the close second.” you tell him.

“And that’s why we make such a good pair.” he replies.

Why did you feel so guilty every time you remembered how much you loved Jaemin?

You both finished your meals; Mark, of course, offered to pay for everything. Then you both left the restaurant. The sun was beginning to set.

“Ooh, wait,” you tell Mark, pulling your camera from your bag. He stops to look at you. “Let me take a picture of you here,” you say, pointing to one of the neon signs in the window.

Mark gets in front of it and poses, and you snap the photo. You both watch as it develops. “Perfect.” you show it to Mark.

You decide to head back to Mark’s house to hang out for a few more hours. As the sun set, the city was becoming less crowded. You passed children riding their bikes back home, people arriving home from work. Everything felt so normal, once again.

“Hey,” Mark says as you reach his room. “Check this out.” he grabs his guitar. “I finally learned how to play this song,”

“Hmm?” you lounge on his bed. “What song?”

He strums his guitar. You could already tell how good he had gotten at it; you only got the chance to hear him play twice before he died.

You recognize the song instantly — I’m Yours by Jason Mraz. It brings a smile to your face. Mark sings along softly. You realize his singing voice has gotten better as well.

You listen to him sing and shift to your side, propping yourself up with your elbow and resting your head on your hand. He’s completely immersed in the music. He looks so happy. You slowly retrieve your bag and take a photo of him.

He stops. “Oh… sorry. I kinda got preoccupied there,” he laughs.

“No, it’s okay…” you reply, feeling guilty for pulling him out of his music-induced-daze. “I was enjoying it.”

“Really?” Mark taps the strings of his guitar. “Well… I’ll finish the song then.” he continues strumming, taking a few moments to find where he left off.

You watch him, a soft smile on your face. This was a moment you definitely wanted to savor. If you were going to forget your time here, you at least wanted to remember this. It was beautiful. It was Mark.

[10:45 p.m.]

Mark offered to walk you home before it got too late — he had forgotten that it was a school night for him.

“Are you sure your mom won’t be mad?” Mark asks, nervously.

You laugh. “Once again, no. If she was worried about me we’d see flyers on the telephone poles,” you joke.

Mark chuckles. “Okay… I just don’t wanna get you in trouble for keeping you out so late. I lost track of time, to be honest…”

You nod. “Me too.” You had spent hours listening to Mark play his guitar and he tried to help you learn a song, but you weren’t as musically gifted as him, so it didn’t go very well. But Mark acted as if you were the God of Guitar, cheering when you played a few chords.

“Today was really fun.” he says softly. “If you ever wanna do this to… unwind… or whatever… just let me know.”

You smile. “Of course.”

Your heart drops as your house comes into view. It was your last few moments with Mark.

He walks you to your doorstep this time; he usually just walks to your driveway. It’s almost as if he knows. “Well,” Mark says, sighing. “We’re here.”

You grin, trying to mask your sadness. “Yeah… thanks for today. It was really fun!” you say.

Mark stares at you for a moment. “Um…” his eyes dart around, not sure where to look. “I…”

You watch him as he struggles to form a sentence. “Mark?” you ask softly.

He closes his mouth before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I just had a lot of fun today.” he says.

You nod slowly. What did he really want to say? “Hurry and go home,” you tell him. “I don’t need you being all tired tomorrow.” your voice is barely above a whisper.

Mark stares at you for a few moments more. “You’re right,” he laughs, shaking his head. “I’m tired already… I’ll probably sleep like a baby when I get home.” Whatever tension was there had disappeared. In a spur-of-a-moment decision, you wrap your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” you tell him. Your head is against his chest; You can hear his heart beating.

“Of course,” he breathes. He finally wraps his arms around you. “Are… you okay?” he asks again.

You feel tears rushing to your eyes again. You chuckle. “I’m fine. I just… I love you.” you whisper. “You’re my best friend, okay? And… I need you to know that.”

He rubs your back. “I love you too,” he replies. “I’m so glad to know you.” he says.

You let him go. You knew you had to.

“Well… I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mark says.

You nod. “I’ll see you.”

You knew it was a lie, but only on your end. He’d see you. You wouldn’t be seeing him. But you knew what you were doing was right. Mark starts walking away, giving you one final smile before he was out of sight.

You push your front door open, going straight to your room and letting yourself cry. You let all of your emotions out. You wanted to run to Mark and hug him again and you never wanted to let go.

You finally pulled yourself together when you heard a faint knock on your door. You wipe your eyes and face quickly, although you knew your face would be puffy from crying. “Come in.”

Jisung peeks in. “Are you okay?”

You nod, although it’s unconvincing — his simple question makes you cry more. “I’m fine.”

“Why are you crying?” Jisung opens the door completely and enters, sitting next to you on your bed. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head. “No. I’m not sad,” you lie. “I’m just… feeling a lot of emotions right now.”

Jisung furrows his brows. “But… you seem sad.”

You take a deep breath. “I’m not, bud. I’m fine. Nothing happened between me and Mark, if that’s what you’re asking. I guess I’m just feeling… thankful. For Mark, and you, and all my friends.”

“Oh…” you can tell Jisung is still confused, but he shrugs it off. “Well… I guess as long as you aren’t sad, it’s okay.”

You feel him wrap and arm around you. You hug him back, feeling much more relieved now that you had cried a bit more.

“I’m going to bed now,” Jisung says, removing his arm from around your shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay…?”

You nod. “I’m okay, really. Go to bed. Don’t stay up late because of me.” you tell him. He should’ve been in bed already… you realize.

Jisung nods. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you, Jisung.”

He seems taken aback by your words. You don’t blame him — no matter what, telling your sibling you love them still feels awkward.

“Love you too.”

He leaves your room. You pick up your bag from where you had placed it when you got to your room and retrieved your camera. You collect all the photos you had taken. The one of Jisung in the kitchen, him talking to Mark, Mark and his ice cream, everyone outside of the ice cream parlor, him outside of the restaurant, him playing his guitar, and finally, the photo Hyuck had taken of you. You shove them in your pocket, praying that they would return to the correct universe with you.

You lay down on your bed, completely exhausted. You just want to fall asleep, but you know you can’t. You pull out your phone, going to your messages and clicking on Hyuck’s name.

You

let me know when you’re ready.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-six: rain on me

a/n: not gonna lie, this one was a little hard to write. yeah, i’m almost numb to bad things happening in the world, but i found this exceptionally difficult for some reason.

It would be another couple of months before any of them heard a peep from Metallica once more, and the whole entire span of the spring time, Sam yearned to see Cliff yet again: she never did give him the hat back to him following that show. She still wore it every day as she walked on to the subway and onward to her first class, but she always took it off after school let out and she took the subway back home, or she rode home with Charlie and Marla. It started on that first day after they had returned home from Syracuse and she took off the hat on the last hour of the ride home and she set it upon her lap. That manifested into a habit when she took the subway to and from school the day after: hat atop her head on the way day and all throughout the school day, but she took it off once she stepped onto the subway. She held it close to her chest when she stood next to the pole and she rested it upon her lap when she took a seat.

All the while, the bitter cold and the snows waned away from the Northeast and gave way to fresh new leaves upon the trees. The brim of his hat protected her eyes from the blinding sun as the spring term made its way forth.

It was a warm afternoon near the tail end of May following her introduction to stained glass class, which she continued to get the hang of, especially since it was only a single class during the week and Belinda wasn't too proud of that fact, either. Marla had asked her as to why that was the case and Belinda had no idea about it, and the little glass splinters in the girls' fingers only made the whole thing unappetizing. The whole thing was bittersweet to think about, especially since there was one week left before finals.

Meanwhile, she walked along the sidewalk with the brim of that dark hat held up high: she adjusted the brim with two fingers, the same ones with a bandage on either one. Perhaps it was the feeling of the sun to her back, but the hat upon her head made the crown feel hot to the touch. She strode past a ground level window and she stopped for a second to better adjust the hat for a bit of relief on her head. She gazed on at her face, which had grown rounder from the winter having gone by, and her body, slightly heavier and rounder.

Cliff and Joey's words to her rang through her mind whenever she saw her own reflection. Maybe they were enabling it. Maybe they were sincere with it. She had no idea as to what to think with it in mind.

Sam sighed through her nose and then she pressed onward to her building.

She made her way inside of the foyer and she spotted Aurora in the doorway of Emile's apartment. She giggled at something he had said to her, and Sam wandered closer to her. Aurora turned her head and her face lit up at the sight of her.

“Hey, Sam! How was school?”

“Good—what's going on?”

“Emile was just telling me something about something that happened to him down in New Orleans before he moved up here.”

“I should give you some of my Mardi Gras beads,” Emile himself called from inside of the apartment. “Both of you ladies, actually—”

“He has to find them first,” Aurora explained, and Sam wondered what was happening there between the two of them.

“I have to check my mail, anyways,” she gingerly added. “It is Wednesday, after all.” Sam scurried away from there and towards the metal mailboxes on the wall. She opened the little door, and in turn revealed three envelopes: a white one, which she assumed was from the school; a yellow one, which she knew was for her rent; and a soft pink one, which she wondered where it came from. She took them out of their hiding place and she examined the pink one first.

It took her a second to recognize Cliff's name scrawled on the front in blue ink. She peered over her shoulder, and Aurora had gone into Emile's apartment. She shut the mailbox door and doubled back down the corridor; she ducked past the door and she darted up the stairs to her place.

She couldn't open the door and take off that hat fast enough. She shook her dark hair about and left the door slightly ajar so a bit of a flow came in from the corridor behind her. She took her seat on the couch and, careful not to tear that soft pink paper, she opened the envelope and she took out his letter, which he wrote on a sheet of plain white paper. She had to read it twice given she wasn't familiar with his penmanship.

“Sam—dearest Samantha—

I'm writing to you from a little hotel room in Chicago. We're going out to Des Moines in about an hour, right before we go play at the Iowa State Fairgrounds, so I'm going to make this quick. Legacy are here right now, having flown out last night to see us at both shows. Given it's Memorial Day and school is almost out, Alex is sitting right next to me right now. Yeah, believe it or not, he's sitting right next to me and he's looking a little rounder than he was before when I got that little piece of rice paper from him—I'm thinking he ate pretty well over Christmas break, which makes me feel better about the way in which he's living well here. But I'm not here to tell you about him: I'm here to tell you how I feel about you.

The sun is shining right over me. It's going to be the Summer Solstice soon. And I think about the way in which you looked in the shrub there next to the bus, the way your hair seemed to shine even in the shadow. You are so beautiful and so gentle that I need to have you with me. What the hell was I thinking, not trusting you?

I need to be around you. I need to be closer to you. This is coming hot off the heels of my eavesdropping on Lars and James having a conversation about something, and then Kirk and James having a discussion about firing Lars. Alex and I both heard it loud and clear—but I guess Dave knows about it more than I do, too.

I'm a little worried about things coming to a head soon following the European stint of the tour. We're leaving for a couple of dates in over Europe right before Fourth of July weekend and then we come back to the Midwest about a week later—I don't get it, either. We come back to New York in August and then we leave for Europe for real after Labor Day weekend. I know that date in New York will be the last I see you for a while so I'm going to relish every second you and I are together there. It's the last date on the North American stint, too, so we can go and do something after the show. I can show you some of Canada if you wish—you'll love it up in Quebec.

I trust you with my life, Sam. As I'm writing this to you, I already feel empowered to stand up to James and Kirk. And I feel empowered to talk and rekindle things with Lars again. Even just on paper, you make me feel more of a man. You make me feel like a better man. Take that back: you make me a better man.

If nothing, I can do something beyond that. The power is in my hands. It's all within my hands if nothing else.

I had lunch with Chuck and Eric just a little bit ago and I spotted a bouquet of yellow tulips on the way there. I have another idea than that, though—another better idea that's bloomed out from the yellow tulips. I'll leave that little surprise for when we return to New York in August.

All my love,

Cliff.”

Her heart skipped a bit and she wondered what he had in store for her. A knock on the door caught her attention and Aurora poked her head into the apartment: Sam caught the sound of beads tinkling together behind the panel. Aurora showed her a series of hot pink and golden Mardi Gras beads.

“Party,” she said.

“Party indeed,” Sam echoed as she slipped the letter back into the envelope and she set it on the table next to her, even though she remembered that Aurora had seen them by the shrub. “By the way—are you and Emile friends to each other?”

“Yes!” she replied with a grin on her face, and she slipped the beads over Sam's head. She herself set her wounded fingers on the golden beads, which were all in the shape of fish. Her fingers ached from the glass splinters and those painful little wounds. Aurora frowned at the bandages.

“Scars from being around Belinda,” Sam replied with a shrug of her shoulders, and that made her chuckle. She nibbled on her bottom lip and Aurora shifted her weight a bit.

“Is there something you wanna tell me?” Sam asked her, as she glanced over at the pink envelope right next to her knee.

“Is there something you wanna tell me?” Aurora echoed her. She nibbled on her bottom lip and she lowered her gaze to the beads around her neck.

“Promise not to tell anyone?” Sam asked her in a low voice, and without a moment's hesitation, Aurora stuck out her pinky finger. They linked fingers to bond it together; Sam then fetched up a sigh.

“Okay. I've been seeing Cliff.”

“I had a feeling that was the case,” Aurora confessed with a nod of her head.

“It's long distance, though,” Sam continued as she reached for the pink envelope. “He and I hung out together over Christmas break at my parents' house. I also got to meet his parents and his sister, too. We even had our first fight.”

“Wow,” Aurora raised her eyebrows at that.

“Yeah. We're—pretty much a thing now.” She turned over the envelope so Aurora could see the scrawl inked on the front. “He just wrote a letter to me from Chicago. He just told me that I make him a better man.”

Aurora cocked her head to the side and brought a hand to her chest.

“Oh, my god,” she breathed out.

“Yeah. It's so sweet, isn't it?”

“That's so romantic.”

“He even gave me his hat!” Sam picked up the black hat from the couch cushion next to her.

“I was wondering where you got that!” Aurora confessed.

“He's just—he's been nothing to sweet to me. I think—I think he might be the one.”

Aurora took a seat on the arm of the couch, right next to her.

“Did Marla tell you we drew him in class?” Sam asked her.

“No!” Aurora's face turned bright pink at the sound of that.

“Yeah. He came into our drawing class back in January after his date had been pushed back a couple of times, and—let's just say I have yet to show it to him.” Sam flashed her a wink.

“Boyfriend and muse,” Aurora concluded.

“Boyfriend and muse...” Sam's voice trailed off at that and she lay the envelope upon her lap. She imagined Cliff himself right next to her. Her dark prince upon his black horse. She turned her head into Aurora's direction.

“What's going on with you and Emile?” She cleared her throat.

“Same story there,” Aurora confessed.

“Really?” Sam gaped at that.

“Yeah. I showed up here some time ago and I asked him where your apartment is. It was raining that day, too, and I didn't know it was going to, either, so he let me into his place for a cup of tea and he also offered to help me dry off. Apparently, he and his wife are separated—” Aurora shifted her weight on the arm of the couch and she grimaced a little bit at the sound of that. “But same story there, too: he's been nothing but sweet to me. One of the first genuinely lovely things he told me was he loves how I'm vegetarian. He's such a kind person, and you are lucky to have him for her landlord, Sam. That kind, genteel Southern politeness and everything...”

“Wait, back up.��� Sam set a hand on her arm. “—he and his wife aren't fully divorced?”

“I don't think so. He hasn't told me anything about it outside of a flippant comment.”

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at that. Aurora's stoic expression broke into a chuckle as well.

“Oh, my god—Aurora!” Sam burst out laughing. “The power of the Korean peninsula!”

“The Korean peninsula plus the long time proximity to Mexico,” she added. “We've inadvertently become a couple of vixens.”

“Marla, Belinda, and Zelda are, too,” Sam pointed out.

“On the surface,” Aurora corrected her, “and as far as we know. We might be in a league of our own amongst the five of us.”

“Yeah, you're kind of the quiet workhorse. And I'm the fat artist.”

“Oh, come on, Sam—you've got lovely curves. You're a true vixen yourself!”

“And the quiet ones have the most cunning minds...” Sam then set her bandaged fingers on the beads once again. “Party,” she said.

“Party!” Aurora echoed, and they high fived each other.

“Care for a drink? I just have cream soda and some pho, interestingly enough.”

“Do you have ice cream? We can have cream soda floats with that nice soup.”

“Nah, just the soda. We're gonna have plenty of cream, anyways.”

* * * * *

The heat of the summer crept its way into the Bronx, but every so often, warm summer rain kept it at bay. Sam had no intent on taking summer school with Belinda and Marla, but she did take up the offer to work side by side with Aurora at the record label as her assistant. It was mostly sorting papers and fetching her drinks during work hours, but it was something and it got her out of the otherwise hot apartment. Meanwhile, at night, she returned home and worked on some drawings before she fell asleep. The main building itself felt so empty and hollow without Anthrax there with them: she also hadn't heard a peep from Dan Lilker in months, either, and thus she assumed that Nuclear Assault had gone on tour themselves.

She thought about Cliff and she even contemplated counting down the days to the end of August. He never wrote to her once again and thus she considered writing back to him. However, since Metallica switched labels, she had no idea as to how to write to him, and given they were on tour, there was no way she could call him up in one of their many hotel rooms. Aurora had too much on her plate to begin with and so she couldn't ask her about it.

“It is a pretty big network, though,” she pointed out to her one morning in late July. “If you ask around, you could probably find a lead of sorts. Maybe you can ask Zelda.”

“Why her? 'Cause she's with Louie?”

“No, 'cause she's within the whole pipeline of musicians as well as with Louie. He especially probably knows his way around the Bay Area and she probably has an idea herself.”

Sam sighed through her nose. That would mean she would have to make the drive out to Providence to their place.

The phone rang right then and Aurora picked up. Sam kept her eyes fixated on the floor before her. She thought about as to what to draw that evening as a relief of sorts when Aurora's concerned tone of voice caught her ear.

“Wow, really? How did he do that?”

Sam turned her head into her direction and she noticed the look of concern on Aurora's face.

“Uh huh—” She raised her gaze in Sam's direction, and they gazed at one another with wide eyes.

“Oh, my god,” Aurora muttered with a look of disgust on her face. “Oh. Okay. Okay, yes—”

Sam bowed her head a bit. She wished to know what her best friend was hearing.

“Okay,” Aurora continued. “Okay, thank you. I'll tell Jon and Marsha as soon as possible.” She hung up the phone right then.

“What happened?” Sam asked her.

“James broke his arm skate boarding. They might cancel part of the tour.”

Sam gaped at her.

“W-Where are they?” she stammered.

“Nashville. And he broke his arm two days ago while in Evansville. Over in Indiana. The person I just spoke to said they might do a couple more dates and then call it good for a bit before they go to Europe.”

“So—they're not gonna come to New York City again,” Sam concluded in a small voice, to which Aurora shrugged.

“I don't think so. She said he messed it up pretty bad. He might not even be able to play guitar for a time until he's fully healed. We're gonna have to tell Marla, Belinda, and Zelda, too—you know we all were gonna be there. All of us. Altogether, with Anthrax and another band called Armored Saint...”

Sam tiled her head back and closed her eyes.

“Fuck!” she declared.

“I know, right? They already had to cancel their Northwest dates back in June, too. But—so much for that, though.” Aurora's face fell at the thought of it.

“Well, what should we do now?” Sam asked her as she ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“Well—she said they plan on playing tonight down in Nashville, followed by tomorrow's date in Chattanooga, then Knoxville, and a couple more and then they go home for a month so James can recuperate. I guess the best thing to do is to call Cliff because she said he's kind of a wreck right now.”

“I would imagine...” Sam's voice trailed off as she remembered what Cliff had told her in his letter.

Indeed, when she returned home later that night, the very first thing she did was pick up the phone. She dialed his number, but she caught his answering machine instead. If they planned on playing a few more dates, then surely he could find her message once he stepped in through the door. The very first thing he would see was her message to him.

“Hi, Cliff—it's Sam. I'm just calling to say that—I heard the news. I heard about what happened to James and I'm just kinda—thinking of you guys right now. Give me a call back once you get this. I love you.”

Without another word, she hung up the phone.

Over the next week, she went off to work with the hot summer sun upon her head and yet that big black hat protected her every step of the way. By the beginning of August, and James' birthday on the third, she expected a call from him, but he never did.

She returned home and checked her machine for any sign of him. Nothing. It seemed so unlike him, especially after all he had said to her in his letter.

A thunderstorm rattled the Bronx on the day in which they were supposed to play there in New York City, and thus Sam got the idea to write back to him. He was back home and she remembered that they would leave for Europe soon enough. She had to make it quick.

She picked up the pencil and she scribbled all along the top line of the paper first. She had no idea as to how to write up that letter to him further than “my dear Cliff.” Sam leaned back and she gazed out the window in front of her, at the rain as it pattered on the window pane before her and the dark menacing clouds across the sky. Perhaps a piece of art could bring something out of him, and yet everything she had made up to that point had been in her journals or they were things she had planned for the autumn and her sophomore year of school. Perhaps a piece of erotic art could bring something out of him, given she sat there in nothing more than her bra and a small pair of shorts that fit her hips a bit more snugly than before.

She could lay on her side before a mirror and make a drawing of herself from the reflection for him. Show off her new curves to him.

But she had nothing to say to him, much to her surprise, and yet she had so much to say to him. She set down the pencil on the tray at the bottom of her desk when the phone rang. She was quick to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Sam.” That voice.

“Oh, my god, Cliff, I was just thinking of calling you.” She ran her fingers through her dark hair.

“I've been meaning to do so but—a bunch of things have happened this past month. First off—Lars and I have rekindled things between us.”

“Oh, good!”

“The day after James broke his arm, he cozied next to me on the bus and he confessed that he wanted someone to talk to about it. I guess James is kinda pissy when he's in pain. So we watched Blazing Saddles together and had some pizza and he shared with me one of his many Danish desserts—I can't remember what it's called but it was spectacular. I told him the two of us have to hang out with him and his whole Danish spiel more in the future. And we started talking again.”

“How're things between him and them?” she asked him as she set her free hand on her hip.

“No idea and I feel like James and Kirk are still track to do it after our European dates. But—oh my god, you're gonna love this. And—I have to keep my voice down because I'm in our rehearsal spot here in San Francisco. And I dunno... I don't think they're here right now, if I'm perfectly honest. But—still. Better I keep my voice low.”

“What's up?”

“Back in June, we played in San Diego and Legacy played the night before us, so the four of us got to see them. One of the guys from Armored Saint, the band who toured with us and the boys, started to come after Lars. I didn't even know what was going on, either—it was all right behind me. But I guess Dave was there with us. And this guy was—I think he was pissed at Lars for whatever reason. And he came after him and Dave caught him, took him outside, and just beat the absolute shit out of him. Protected Lars and none of us knew it had happened until Dave told me about it after the fact.”

“Wow,” she breathed out.

“Yeah. The guys up on stage didn't even see it and Chuck and Louie see everything up there—that's according to them, anyways.”

She chuckled at that. And then she remembered.

“By the way, what did you want to do with me? Given tonight you guys were supposed to be here and you had to pull out for the time being.”

“Oh, yeah. I was gonna ask you if we could make it official between us.”

“Officially boyfriend and girlfriend,” she followed along.

“Yeah. It just makes sense to me, even if it is long distance at this point.”

“Of course. I'd love to do that.”

“Then it's official, baby doll,” he declared in a soft whisper of a voice. “You have a boyfriend now.”

Voices in the background on his end cut him off.

“I gotta go. We're flying out to Wales in a couple of days. It's a whole two week affair just so we adjust and go through customs and all that jazz.”

“Right, right...”

“Kirk needs to use the phone, too.”

“By the way, Cliff?” she piped up again.

“Uh huh?”

“Call me when you get there,” she told him.

“Of course. You have a good night for me.”

“You, too.”

They hung up at the same time right as a clap of thunder caught her off guard. If she had to draw in the dark, she would.

And she was eager to start school again within a couple of weeks as well, and once again, the week following Labor Day. Fresh off the heels of her first year, she wished to see what that second year held for her given the cuts on her fingers had long healed and Belinda vowed that the next level up would be far more exciting. She already knew the basics and thus she could foresee a stained glass window much like the ones in that front hallway from her hung up there for the whole school and the world to see.

A drawing class, a watercolor class, stained glass, more art history, and algebra, the latter of which she needed to fill in one of her elective credits. That was according to Bill when she signed up for classes.

“Gonna be a lot more hectic this year,” he vowed to her with a cunning smile on his face, but she knew she would enjoy it especially when she knew she also kept the part time shift next to Aurora. Just a lot more to do but she knew she would enjoy it.

She stayed on her feet for the entirety of both of her drawing and watercolor classes and the whole entire first week, she envisioned Metallica, Anthrax, and Armored Saint in that concert hall in Wales. She tried to picture them all as she sketched out a series of faces similar to them on that large sheet of paper she had been asked to have for the former. Given part of their personal journal included wildlife studies, Marla suggested she draw plants around them given it was the United Kingdom, in all of its greenery and lushness. Sam also recalled that they had missed playing the Pacific Northwest as well.

Given the drawing itself was due at the end of the month, she gradually worked on it with a bit of colored pencil and only the hardest of her graphite pencils. She thought of giving it a splash of watercolor at some point, but she decided not to do it.

And she still hadn't shown Cliff the drawing of him. She itched to show it to him once she handed that large drawing by the end of that third week of school. She strode out of the classroom and up the street so as to start her short shift for the rest of that afternoon. It was a cool late autumn afternoon, and the gray clouds overhead beckoned a fresh round of rain. But when she reached the front step, she was met with Aurora herself, who looked as though she had seen a ghost.

“Um, Sam?” Aurora called to her once she came within earshot.

“Yeah?” She frowned at the grave look on her friend's face, and she glanced behind her, and there was Marla right behind her, who had one hand on her mouth as if she had something horrific.

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked them as she adjusted the brim of the hat: she picked up that earthy smell of rain. Marla fetched up a sigh and she doubled back for something. Sam halted in front of Aurora and butterflies emerged inside of her stomach.

“What's going on?” she asked her in a small voice, and Aurora's face fell. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Marla returned with a white cordless phone in hand.

“Something happened,” she replied in an equally small voice. “Something that you should know.”

She handed her the cordless with a solemn look on her face. Reluctant, Sam took the phone and then she brought it to her ear and the butterflies in her stomch kept on whirring about.

“Hello?” she started in a low voice.

“Sam!” Lars' voice crackled onto the other end. “Sam! Horrible! Things! Really bad things! Fucking—fucking hell!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam interjected with a wave of her hand, “whoa, Lars. Lars, slow down! What happened?”

He sputtered and blithered a serious of things in Danish but then he gasped.

“Lars!” Sam cried out, and she held still right there when she was met with silence. “Lars? Are you there?”

“—yes?” he said in a broken voice.

“What happened?”

He let out a long low sigh.

“What happened?”

“I'm sorry,” he started and she could hear tears in his voice, “I just—I haven't been able to talk to James and Kirk about it. I needed someone to vent to.”

“What happened, Lars?” she asked him, gentle.

“There—There was an accident,” he sputtered. “A bus accident. Our bus went off the road—we were in Sweden. In the middle of the night. We were all asleep when it went off the road. We rolled over. Cliff—is gone.”

Sam's eyes widened and she almost dropped the phone itself. It was as if the rug had been yanked right out from right underneath her.

“What do you mean he's gone?” she asked him as she felt her stomach and her heart sink.

“He's gone. He was—crushed by the bus.”

Her stomach turned. Her knees quivered and quaked. She had to catch herself on the counter behind her. She thought about the letter Cliff had written to her. His words were set in stone at that moment. He never even called her when they got to Wales, either.

Lars' voice quivered and waved away with tears. The smell of rain grew stronger and Aurora stepped inside; Sam could make out the tears in her eyes.

“He's gone, Sam. He's—He's just—he's gone.”

[alittlebitgoofy]

hihi for the au/trope/prompt game !!! au 1, trope 1 and prompt 5/24 (either or both!! im indecisive lol) <33 OH and lemyanka ofc did u expect anything different from me

HI, so ik this took a while (the other ones will but i will get them all done i s2g) but i got a bit too into this one so here it is and it’s like 1.4k :)

1. roommate!au 1. friends to lovers  24. “you have the emotional capacity of a brick”

Priyanka was conflicted, she adored her best friend but Lemon wasn't the one you went to for emotional consoling. She could provide one hell of a distraction but she wasn’t good with her own emotions, let alone someone else’s. She could listen but couldn’t help the lack of emotive energy she had a lot of the time. 

“Girl, something is clearly bothering you, you can talk to me.” The concern on the blonde’s face was appreciated, no matter how little she could do to help the situation. How do you explain to the person trying to console you that they’re the problem?

“Lem, I love you but I’m not coming to you for advice, you have the emotional capacity of a brick.”

“Bitch! Fuck, Priyanka, I just don’t like seeing someone I care about unhappy, is it bad to try and help you?” The genuine hurt in her voice shook the brunette. It wasn’t like Lemon to get so riled up over a joke but maybe now wasn’t the most appropriate time. She let out a dejected sigh, attention falling to her lap as she tried to avoid the prying eyes of her roommate. 

“I’m sorry.” The meekness made Lemon do a double-take, even when she was upset, Priyanka would have some kind of witty response to most things. Even when they squabbled, she rarely submitted with such sadness. Something was truly wrong.

“It’s fine Pri, just talk to me, doll, even if you don’t want to talk I just wanna help you feel better.”

Priyanka left the thoughts of the clear care and concern lemon had for her aside, with her feelings they’d easily get misread as romantic. That was impossible, lemon rarely held more than a slight crush on someone before getting bored as they never fit her standards. 

“Alright, there’s this girl. But there’s nothing I can do about it, she’s not into me.” the immediate interest lemon showed hurt, Priyanka sighed inwardly, this was going to be a long conversation. 

 “Have you asked her?”

 “No? Who asks people, you flirt, and if they don’t flirt back to go and cry yourself to sleep because you know you’ll never find love.”

Lemon looked even more concerned, it sent Priyanka through a loop to see such compassion on her face. There was no trying to hide it, just some sort of love and care for her that made her broken heart feel that much better. 

“Maybe she’s just dumb,” Lemon said with a soft giggle, the kind of noise that would melt anyone’s heart and sent Priyanka into orbit any time it came out of her. 

“Oh, she is, the stupidest person I know. But I love her, and I'm too scared to say anything and ruin our friendship”  

“It’s not good to bottle up your feelings, you keep quiet about it so long and you just want to die every time they go on a date or get their heartbroken, but you can’t say anything or give it away because it’s been so long. It’s scary Pri, but don’t let yourself get to that position. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

That was a lot, Lemon realised how much she’d spilt but couldn’t find the energy to hold up her walls. She trusted Priyanka more than anyone, how much was it to let her know about her long-running crush that she had no intention of acting upon and fuck up her one good relationship with a person that wasn’t her dog. 

 “Lem, why don’t you try? If you feel that strongly about someone, surely it’s worth trying?” 

 Lemon scoffed at Priyanka’s romanticism, life wasn’t like a romcom. People didn’t fall in love with their best friends and live happily ever after, they suffered from the burden of loving someone who crushed on someone new each week and came back to them heartbroken. There was a reason she couldn’t deal well with emotions, she was scared to show them.

 “She doesn’t like me like that, it’s painfully obvious cause she likes someone else.”

 “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

 “I actually hate you, oh my god!.”  Twisting her words was a low move but it wasn’t surprising. Priyanka was just like that and as annoying as it could be it was one of Lemon’s favourite things. She always had a quick wit to bounce something back. It made arguments a nightmare, she’d pick up on any contradiction but it was hilarious in the right context. 

“You love me, who wouldn’t” Though she’d glanced away, lemon would hear the smirk in Priyanka's words. She wanted to rub the smug look off her face, it was infuriatingly adorable when she got all cocky about her appeal 

 “Most people.”

 “Bitch! You’re lucky you’re cute, cause you’re an ass.” the brunette laughed at the deadpan delivery. Lemon loved to fight back with her lack of emotion and it never failed to get a laugh. 

“I’ve got a nice ass thanks for noticing, doll.” The pair erupted in giggles at the absurdity of it all, the spilling of emotions before falling back into the comfort of their jokes. It felt good to be understood by someone, but they both yearned for something more while thinking the other was yearning for someone else.

Priyanka convinced Lemon into laying close to her as they both chilled, looking on their phones, comfortable in the company of each other. It took her by surprise when the smaller girl cuddled into her. Affection was rare from Lemon, it made her heart pound in her chest as she continued to lay her head onto her shoulder and latch her arms around the closest arm. 

Priyanka couldn’t help beginning to stroke her hair, she started slowly attempting to gauge the reaction from her before continuing as Lemon relaxed into the touch. She let out a soft sigh, completely letting Priyanka be as affectionate as she wanted. 

Lemon felt her fear melting as they stayed like that. She wished she had the courage to speak up about her feelings but the words eluded her. Something about now felt like the right time if ever. Courage slowly bubbled up, leaving lemon dead silent in the arms of her roommate wishing she could telepathically communicate her feelings and avoid this whole headache.

“Hey, Pri?” Lemon whispered, turning her head to face her friend with an apprehensive look. It would normally be enough to worry Priyanka but something felt serious about this like she shouldn’t interrupt. Lemon glanced around, attempting to avoid the problem of speaking despite having started the conversation herself.

“I just…” She trailed off, wondering if she could even say it. Was it worth it? For a chance with Priyanka, she had to try. “I love you, Pri. I’m glad you’re in my life.” 

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but earnest words of appreciation from Lemon wasn’t it. The feeling it brought her was euphoric though. It warmed the brunette to her core to know that her best friend liked her that much. Lemon wasn’t one for soft sappy moments, she showed her affection through playful banter and the occasional compliment. Something was different, she meant everything so clearly with her heart that it made Priyanka question if she could just kiss her right there.

“I love you too Lem, you have no idea how much.” Though it sounded innocent, she didn’t know how much

She didn’t know how Priyanka spent nights on end thinking about Lemon lying next to her, making snide comments about the most random things to get a laugh out of her. She didn’t know how every heartbreak fades quicker around her, how the feelings for her were the cure for anyone else. She was why dates failed. They weren’t Lemon, and that was all she wanted. 

Their eyes met, wordlessly exchanging affections with soft smiles. Priyanka couldn’t help but lean ever so much closer, Lemon soon mirroring her action. Was this about to happen? Was Lemon aware of what she was doing? Before she could overthink too much more, their lips met. It was as soft as she thought Lemon would be. Though neither wanted to end, they had to break apart for air soon enough. It took one soft, dopey grin from Priyanka to send the blonde’s heart fluttering in her chest.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[krismusings]

Discord thread featuring: Roman and @quentindelancret

When: night of Jan 7th

Mentions: -

Description: This is literally just rough sex and Roman tops. Shocking, I know.

Trigger Warnings: degradation, breath play, dom/sub

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Heavy breaths, and the sound of lips sliding together, that’s all that could be heard in Roman’s one bedroom West Kingsboro apartment. He had the younger male pinned against the bedroom wall, lost in his first time alone with Q since he’d left for Italy, and to say he was in a mood was an understatement. “Look at me.” Roman rasped with his hand secured around Quentin’s jaw, forcing the man’s gaze on him while his now dark eyes scanned his lover’s sharp features. “You’re going to do everythin’ I say. Do you understand? I need to hear you say yes.” Ro knew the other male liked to be pushed around in the bedroom, degraded, all the things that Roman himself enjoyed behind closed doors. They were both pretty sick when it came to kinks, but maybe that was why they were so good together.

Quentin.

The rush of adrenaline Q was feeling before even arriving at Roman’s new apartment, was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. His trip to California had awakened something in him, but it wasn’t something he could necessarily share with Aaron. This was something he shared with Roman, and Roman alone. His heart was pounding so hard against his chest as his eyes shifted to meet the deep emerald green orbs of his lover. His head nodding, but the word yes finally being forced from his lips as Roman’s hand tightened around his jaw. “Yes, daddy” he smirked mischievously. Quentin could definitely be a brat, and he loved testing the limits. But this deep yearning to touch Roman and be touched by him was making it incredibly hard to be anything but compliant. His hands moving to grab his best friends ass and squeeze it as he pressed his groin into his.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Roman had to smirk at the naughty nickname passing Quentin’s lips, deciding to drop his hand down to fist at the front of his coworker’s shirt. Roman tried to think back over all the time in his life he’d wanted something really bad, and nothing really compared to how much he wanted to just completely ravage Quentin right now. The actor pulled Q by the shirt to his lips, kissing the male hard, and needy, then decided to switch gears and grab his lover by the arms to throw him onto the bed behind them. “I need you naked.” Roman rasped and placed himself at the foot of his mattress so that he could start tugging down Quentin’s pants. “Get your shirt off for me baby. Wanna see that beautiful body...”

Quentin.

The energy that was radiating from Roman’s eyes alone. It had him feeling all types of ways. Like he could quite literally combust at any moment. The satisfaction of finally being able to kiss this beautiful mans lips shooting signals straight to his dick. It was like he was having hot flashes or something, because before he knew it his back was hitting the mattress. His lips parting with the most lustful gasp as his eyes scanned the features of Roman’s face. He crossed his arms across his chest and arched his back as he pulled his t-shirt from his body. Tossing it wherever as his hands found solace gripping at the sheets on the mattress below him. God, he wanted to touch Roman so bad. His fingertips were tingling as his hips shifted just slightly to help his lover get him undressed. “God, I’ve missed you” he breathed out. His lips practically quivering as they yearned to be pressed against any part of this beautiful man standing over him.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Roman’s mouth went dry the second Q pulled off his shirt, revealing that perfectly cut body that was dotted with beauty marks. Christ, he really was gorgeous. The lines of his abs, the milky color of his skin, like a porcelain doll. The kicker though, was that face. He looked like he could get anyone to do anything he wanted, and Roman definitely felt like he was under his spell. “I’ve missed you more.” Ro focused now on getting his own clothes off, and then he was turning to look for his handcuffs. He didn’t have as much storage space in this apartment as his last, but of course he still made sure he had a couple of drawers dedicated to his sex toys. “You’ve been such a bad boy, Quentin.” The older muttered as he slowly turned around, dangling the handcuffs from his index finger. “Hold your hands up above your head for me...” Roman instructed while walking back over to loom above his best friend so he could cuff him to his headboard with a cheeky grin. “You look so hot like this, fuck.”

Quentin.

Quentin was convinced that Roman could quite possibly be the death of him. But he wasn’t complaining in the slightest. Hell, he welcomed it fully with open arms. This man just had a way of doing things that left him feeling completely out of body. Every touch burning into his skin with the most euphoric pleasure he had ever felt. “Mmm, yours so fucking sexy” he hissed as he watched his lover undress. His fingers fondling with his own nipples as he bit feverishly at his bottom lip. He wasn’t sure what Roman was doing at first, but when he returned with a pair of handcuffs, he could feel his dick literally twitch. “Oh fuck...” he breathed out. Doing exactly as he was told as his body lifted like a magnet against his lover hovering over him. “Are you going to teach me a lesson daddy? Teach me how to behave?” His own lips curling up into a seductive grin as Romans eyes caressed his body.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Roman shook his head when Quentin tried to egg him on, a sheepish smile spreading across his face because Q still managed to somehow fluster him, even though he was trying to play a part here. It wasn’t super often that Roman played the dominant role in the bedroom, but that didn’t mean he didn’t fucking love it. He was one who enjoyed having control over things in his life, so of course he would get off on that in the bedroom. “Be quiet, or I’ll make you.” He countered to his lover while securing his hands in the handcuffs above his head. “Think you can stay quiet for me, Q? Not even a single sound?” He lifted a brow, and then ducked down to place some open mouthed kisses over his body, ending in some nipple play as he dragged his teeth over one, and then the other to get them hard.January 10, 2021

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰

Quentin was anything but quiet in the bedroom. But the way Roman just got onto him had his cock literally throbbing with anticipation. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to keep himself quiet and simply just nodded his head. Knowing full well he probably wouldn’t be able to stay silenced for long. “Mmm” he hummed with a soft grunt as Roman’s teeth dragged over his nipples.  His lips pressing together as he tried to keep himself from making anymore sounds as his body practically squirmed beneath his lover. His eyes begging for more as his hand pulled against his restraints. This was definitely going to be a challenge. Not touching Roman or making a single sound. God, he needed this so bad, and Roman looked so fucking sexy with that look of dominance on his face.(edited)

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Roman was smirking, probably looking like a demon straight from hell, but in a good way? Did that even make sense, or did it just make him sound insane? Christ, he was just so turned on, and he wanted as much of Quentin as he could possibly get, all at once, right this second. “Such a good boy for me right now, Q.” Ro gave the other boy praise, knowing that was just as important as being firm. Praise with punishment, the perfect pair. The actor nuzzled against Quentin’s leg as he wrapped a hand around his length, pumping his lover’s cock in his fist to give him some sense of relief while his light stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin of Q’s inner thigh.January 11, 2021

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰

There was absolutely nothing sexier than the way Roman looked right now.  His eyes dark and his lips curved up into the most devilish grin he had ever seen. His body was practically begging to be dominated by this man. The time they spent a part only adding to the intense amount of need that he was feeling throughout his entire being. He lifted his hips against the strokes of his lovers hand and his lip tucked back between his teeth. His toes curly with each brush of Roman’s stubble against his thigh. “baby” he whimpered with a soft barely there whisper. His own eyes glossing over with a hunger he could barely control.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Roman let out a huff when Quentin called him baby, giving a heavy indication as to whether he liked this or not. Roman had a huge thing for being called pet names while he was dominating his lovers, apparently something he shared with Quentin from time to time. He ran his hand almost lovingly over Quentin’s ass, prodding at the other’s heat with his thumb. "Hmm, good boy, get loud now for Daddy and I'll make you quiet with my cock down your throat, like I'm pretty sure you love." He replaced his thumb with two fingers, curling them to catch that sweet spot at the same time he wrapped his fingers around Quentin��s cock again between his legs. "My good little slut..."

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰ 

God! Roman was really testing his limits right now, and he absolutely loved it. His knees dropping to the sides as he lifted his hips even more for more access. “Ughhhh... fuck” he growled through his clenched teeth as Roman pushed his fingers inside of him. His legs involuntarily trembling with pleasure as his mouth dropped open. “Yes, daddy. I’m your dirty little slut” he moaned breathlessly. His arms pulling even harder against their restraints as he rolled his body against his lovers hand.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

It was always an absolute pleasure to find all Quentin’s little spots and kinks. He knew he was dead right in his exploring as Quentin started moving and squirming against his restraints. He stroked Q in time to his own movements. He wasn't planning to deprive the younger of his orgasm tonight, he had plans, so he was fine with the man chasing the pleasure. He hummed approvingly to Quentin’s words, adding a third finger to the mix. "Such a good boy, cum for Daddy, nice and loud, and you'll get to choke on my cock, I promise."

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰ 

Roman added that third finger and Q couldn’t keep himself quiet any longer. Which was a good thing since he was instructed to be loud. “Oh. My. God. Yesssss” he moaned with the dirtiest most seductive hiss. His eyes practically rolling to the back of his head as he continued to thrust his hips and fuck his lovers hands. “I’m so close, daddy” he moaned again. His heavy breaths echoing throughout the room as he felt his cock flex with his release. “Mmm... fuckfuckfuck.... yesss daddy” he growled. His body jerking vigorously against each shot of cum that was released from his throbbing cock.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Quentin moaning like that and almost writhing in pleasure was the best thing he'd seen in far too long, this was heaven. He stroked Quentin faster, wanting the man to come to his end, swiping his thumb over Q’s leaking tip. "Good boy, let go for me..." The reason he wanted it was evident only moments later when the cold touch of a plug he’d grabbed for them out of his drawer, barely warmed from the coating of Q’s cum it was covered in, pressed insistently at Quentin’s hole, suddenly lacking Roman’s fingers. He didn't go slow when he pushed it in, knowing Q was prepped, grinning when the plug sank to the pretty gem stone on the end when Quentin squeezed around it. "There we go, good boy. I don't want you to go without a little pleasure while you suck me off." He moved off the bed and shed the rest of his clothes before moving up to Q’s head. He'd cuffed him to the corner bed post, all Q would have to do is shift and turn his head. Roman rounded the bed, and smirked at Quentin in the moonlight. They'd left the lights off, the only light coming from the night sky through the parted curtains. "I wanna see your pretty face while you make yourself choke on my cock. Show Daddy what a good boy you are and get me all wet, that's all the lube you'll get when I fuck you." He smirked. "And I suppose what's left of your cum from the plug." Ro informed the younger as he swung his leg over Quentin and straddled his face.

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰ 

Quentin honestly wasn’t sure what to expect when he agreed to this. But, who the hell was this man and what did he do with Roman? They had gotten pretty heavy and intense before in his playroom. But this role switch had Quentin molding into puddy at his lovers will. “Ro... oh...fuck” he hissed again as he pushed the plug deep into his heat. His cheeks clenching around the toy with such a pathetic whimper as he lulled his head back in pleasure. Only bringing his attention directly back to Roman as he spoke. “You’re so good to me, baby” he tried to respond. His words trembling with pleasure as he shifted just right to reach his lovers cock with his mouth. His tongue extending from his lips as he left it just barely curl around the underside of Roman’s cock. “Mmm.... Mine” he moaned hungrily. Opening his mouth wide to let Roman slide his cock completely down his throat. He didn’t really have a gag reflex, but damn. Roman was so fucking huge and his throat was finding trouble completely relaxing with the amount of pleasure he was currently feeling. His eyes fell shut as he choked lightly on his lovers girth before opening them again to watch his reaction. His arms were pulling desperately against the restraints again as he let out the dirtiest sounding moan. “uhmmmm” he let out with a muffled moan as his hands clenched into fists. It was like each time he curled his upper body to get Roman even deeper down his throat he could feel that plug pushing even deeper into him.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

There was no doubt in Roman’s mind that Quentin would be mind blowing from this angle, there was just no way that mouth could be shit at blowies of any kind. But still, when that warmth enveloped his cock and then that little suck, Roman couldn’t even try to hold back his own moan. After missing Quentin for only one night, Q felt almost unnaturally amazing. God this was worth the wait. And then swallowing him fuuck this wasn't going to be a long blowie, Roman wanted to finish from fucking Quentin. His eyes were starting to burn a little, stuck on the younger’s face once again like how could he not fucking stare? He moaned at the noises Q was making and the look in those deep blue eyes, almost glowing in the moonlight. He couldn't wait anymore, he pulled away from Quentin and climbed onto the bed. He grabbed his lover’s hips and moved him up the bed  on his back so he didn't have to stretch with the cuffs. He pulled the plug out possibly too fast and tossed it to the floor, wasting no time to line up and sink his cock balls deep in one quick, hard movement. He gave Q, and himself, only a bare moment to relish the connection before he was pulling his hips back and slamming them forward, growls leaving him every so often. This would be a sprint, not a marathon, but God it felt so fucking good!

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰ 

Romans cock was quite literally Q’s most favorite thing to have in his mouth. He loved sucking cock, and he loved making Roman feel good. To him there was absolutely no better combination in the world. He needed this man’s cock and he craved it more than he craved air to breathe. Which was quite apparent with the way he was taking his lovers length to the back of his throat and completely cutting off his airway. It was almost tragic when Roman pulled away from him. Causing him to whine at the loss of friction against his lips before gasping in the most pornographic way. “Oh shiiiit” he groaned as Roman roughly pulled the plug from his heat and quickly replaced his with his cock. His glands were throbbing with the amount of intense pleasure he was receiving. It was impossible to even try to stay quiet now. His moans fluctuating between heavy breaths and deep growls as he slammed his hips back up agains each of Roman’s thrust. “Fuck, yesss baby” he groaned through his gritted teeth. God, this all felt so fucking good. Just the right amount of pain and so much fucking pleasure he could barely stand it. “Oh fuck.. Harder daddy.... yessss right there. More” he growled. His arms pulling so hard at the restrains with the need to touch Roman he was sure he was gonna have bruises. “I’m gonna cum so fucking hard. Don’t stop baby” he insisted through a very thick almost inaudible growl. His entire body trembling as he tightened his legs against Roman’s hard body.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

That feeling of being on the same page as his partner was almost as good as the sex itself, it was so clear that Quentin was just as into this as Roman was. Almost. Nothing was as good as this, as pounding Q into the bed, the headboard banging against the wall now, fuck sex with anyone didn’t seem as good. He tried his hardest to give Quentin exactly what he was begging for, his muscles screaming already. He just wasn't a built dude, he had stamina he could spread out, not so much endurance. This was exhausting but worth it. He growled at Quentin’s words and tried to go even harder until he realized he really wanted to actually see Quentin’s face as he controlled him completely. He fell to one elbow by the other’s shoulder, making sure he was still lined up with his free hand before slamming home and resuming his furious pace. Then he was grabbing Quentin’s throat to make sure he had eye contact with the man, those stunning blue eyes. He also really wanted to control his breathing, and give him that extra level of pleasure. Cum... cum for Daddy, pet... I'm..." He didn't have enough breath to finish as he rammed his cock home one more time and exploded. His O face in the moonlight what something to behold, though Roman would argue it paled in comparison to Quentin’s.

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰ 

This was some next level shit. Quentin had never been with anyone who he could connect with like this. It was seriously mind blowing, and maybe even a bit overwhelming. His body had never felt so alive with passion and pleasure. There was quite literally nothing better than sex with Roman. Hell just being with Roman in general sent him. He was completely and utterly in love with this man, and every single aspect about him. Even the way he was cutting his air supply off right now was so fucking blissful. “”ughh” he moaned with a soft grunt. His eyes involuntarily rolling to the back of his head as he felt Roman slamming into his prostate over and over. He couldn’t breathe, hell he didn’t wanna breathe. It all felt so fucking euphoric, and he was right there on the edge of cumming. Romans words giving him that extra push he really needed to get there. “Fuuu..” he barely got out as he felt Roman’s hot sticky cum exploding deep inside of him. His own orgasm pushing him completely into a place of euphoric and celestial pleasure as he felt himself loose a bit of consciousness. His eyes rolling back to life as his body jerked with orgasmic pleasure.

❝𝓡✮м𝕒𝐍 ❜❜ 

Roman’s chest was heaving, his lungs on fire, legs ready to give out, but he refused to stop before he got to see Quentin’s face and it was worth it!His hold on Q’s throat tightened in response to their pending orgasms, because he literally couldn't talk for any form of warning, his thumbs now pressing into his lover’s pulse point in a way he knew Quentin could handle. Eventually he just couldn't hold himself up anymore and fell to Quentin’s chest with a heavy sigh after he came, going full limp noodle as he tried to catch his breath. His fingers left the other’s neck to start running over Q’s scalp instead, trying to soothe him through his come down. Once he felt less like he was going to die in the best way he turned his head and buried his face into Quentin’s neck. "Holy shit. You are fucking amazing... gimme a second and I'll uncuff you, dunno if I can move yet." He chuckled softly and shifted his leg to hook under Q’s in a comfortable piece of intimacy Roman probably wasn't even aware of, making the moment soft. He kissed Q’s neck softly and actually whined. "I didn't even get to choke you out completely!" Poor Quentin was going to get whiplash! It had taken probably three full minutes for Ro to be able to speak but still! It was a quick flip.

✰ 𝓠ᴜᴇɴᴛɪɴ ✰ 

Quentin gasped deeply as Roman moved his hand from his throat. His own chest rising and falling rapid and heavy as he fought to catch his breath. He was still a bit out of it himself. But the pressure of Roman laying on top of him kept him from completely fading out. He hooked his leg back around his lovers and a smile formed across his lips. “It’s okay baby” he rasped, pressing a kiss to Roman’s forehead before his lover was burying his face into his neck. “Ha, you can say that again. You... holy shit” his voice was weak and raspy with a thick and heavy French accent. But he didn’t really care if he ever caught his breathe. This was the most perfect and euphoric moment in his entire life, and he honestly didn’t want it to ever end. “Mmm” he hummed before letting out a soft chuckle. “Baby... I was right there. It was perfect” he assured. His legs wrapping around Roman’s body as he used the force of his own body to flip them over. Straddling over his lover with his arms criss crossed in the cuffs hanging over them. “I love you so fucking much” he breathed out. Letting his body slide down Roman’s as he laid on top of him and crashed their lips together.

[shreddedparchment]

Heavy is the Hand You’re Dealt

Part 1

08/24/2019

Pairing: Thor x Reader, Steve x Reader     Word Count: 10,081

Prompt: Imposter - Bearson            Masterpost

What you see could be fire burning bright into the sky/What you see could be strength that leads to victory /And I, all I am is an imposter…who’s trying to forget.

Warnings: Eventual smut, language, angst, pining, violence, blood, the Snap

A/N: This piece is for @youngmoneymilla ‘s 5K Writing Challenge. I TRIED to make this a one shot. I really did. But I failed. It’ll be two parts. The prompt will influence the second part more than the first but small bits of it can be seen in this first part. I am exhausted! lol this piece really took it out of me. xoxo

There will be NO tags for this story as it is only two parts. Thank you.

Beginnings are important. They are your base. From the beginning you are shaped and molded by your future. So, this is your beginning. This is where you start. This is how you got where you are. Steve was your beginning.

~~~~~

You know those sweet, dizzying, bitter butterflies that you get when you look at that one special person? Or that weightless sensation you get when that one person takes your breath away? Or the hope and promise of tomorrow when you stay up for hours, daydreaming about how nice it would be if they told you they like you back?

Steve Rogers makes you feel like that.

Steve Rogers makes you feel many things.

Hopelessly smitten being the most prevalent.

It happens during one short workout session. You’re punching a bag, struggling to keep your fist from sliding off the side.

The old boxing gym smells of mold and sweat, an ancient building with smokestack gray walls, dingy mats that used to be white, a creaking old boxing ring, and over worn wood both splintered in places and smooth as silk. The overhead lights cast sporadic spotlights, yellow shine against the faded brown floors.

Pictures of boxing champs from the days before color photographs are set on display around the room, brightening the atmosphere with immortalized victories and the smiles of strong young men who have now withered and weakened.

You’ve chosen this place, this aged spot, because it’s cheap and it’s what you can afford but you’ve warmed to its charms.

The old man who owns it gave you a fair deal and a locker to boot. You come and go often but always after dark, when your days at the academy are over.

Today is no different and you race for the door as the storm clouds overhead swirl and weigh heavy on the city. The breeze twists around your bare arms, kissing it warm with car exhaust and then thunder rumbles and the sky flashes and is then split open with a crackling boom.

The incessant honking of the cars in the city do little to drown out the coming storm. As the rain stutters into a pour, you reach the unassuming doorway. You hear the click as it locks and you gasp, desperate to get in.

“Mr. Davis!” You plead, knowing that he might not hear you.

As the hiss of the rain grows louder, the door is unlocked and pushed open. You sigh with relief, stepping back a bit and search slightly above your eye line for Mr. Davis’s withered face. Instead you find one broad shoulder, a baby blue button up underneath a brown leather bomber.

You follow the smooth curve of hard and toned muscle to a thick muscular neck.

Do models come to this gym? It’s the only explanation that you can come up with at the utter beauty that you find yourself looking at.

He’s tall, soft storm blue eyes, perfect, classical features, topped with a soft yet carefully styled head of corn husk yellow hair.

“Sorry, ma’am, the gym’s closed.” He tells you, smooth even voice deep and curious.

Ma’am?!

“I-I know.” You stutter stupidly, completely taken aback by this extremely gorgeous guy. “I…Mr. Davis lets me come in after the gym closes. I just…I forgot my key.”

The blonde considers you for a moment then looks out at the rain. His eyes zero in on your right shoulder before throwing the door open suddenly.

“Hurry.”

You scramble inside, grateful for the warmer air of the gym.

“Don’t you hate how you get cold if you get wet when it rains? Even if it’s burning hot outside?” You turn to look at the tall blonde and he gives you a polite smile.

“Yes.” He answers simply. “Excuse me.”

“Of course.” You reply, rubbing your arms for friction. “Don’t mind me.”

He nods at you and leaves you in your slightly damp state.

“Right…” You say to yourself as you head towards the much smaller female locker room. “Don’t mind me.”

You throw your punch, twisting your arm like you’re supposed to, aiming to hit with your fist. Focused. Dedicated. Completely sucking.

“You’re too loose.” The blonde says from behind you.

You only just manage not to gasp as you’re startled into turning around. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He says, “Hold your arms up, I’ll show you.”

You watch him approach then turn to face the punching bag, raising your fists carefully and desperately trying to keep from thinking about how good this stranger looks in his off-white t-shirt and soft gray jersey sweats.

“Your stance is off too.” He says then stands behind you, hesitating. “May I?”

The nervous look in his eyes makes your heart flutter. Where is this guy from?

He exudes gentility and respect. Mostly respect. The fact that he’s asking to move closer to you, to even check if it’s okay, who does that now-a-days?

“Of course.” You smile at him. “Yes. Please.”

His shy half smile makes your heartbeat stutter and you turn away from him so that he can’t see the crush you have on him already so firmly set in your eyes.

The heat of his body envelops you as he stands with his chest to your back. It’s only a moment of contact as he reaches out to wrap your fists in each of his hands, adjusting the angle of your arms before he stands up straight again and then taps the insides of your feet, moving them until your stance is more open and centered.

“You feel that?” He asks, voice seductive but you’re sure that’s just you. God, he sounds like ice cream tastes.

“Er…yeah.” You mutter.

“Keep your arms hard. And follow through with your punch. Move your whole shoulder with it. Punching is not something you do with only your arms. You use your whole body to push that power through. It also helps keep it straight when you follow through with your shoulder.” He looks down at you, his breath tickling your left earlobe, and your neck, cheeks, chest, arms, legs, thighs especially, your pussy too…they all just flame up.

You’re suddenly very aware of how long exactly it’s been since you’ve had sex and damn it if this is not just the most awful form of torture because the perfect blonde man steps back, releasing you.

If you weren’t so embarrassed by the pool of lust in your panties, you would have probably melted to the floor the moment he released you.

Lucky you, there’s a reason you’re even in the academy and you seem to keep your wits about you and manage to hold the stance he’s put you in.

“Like this?” You check.

“Yeah. Go ahead, give it a punch.” He says, indicating the bag.

Every bit of yearning you’re suddenly swamped with you channel into your hit and with a resounding SMACK, the bag swings away from you as you hit it dead center.

You laugh, forgetting your flustered state, clapping your wrapped hands as you jump twice.

“Oh my God!” You gasp, laughing some more.

A small chuckle behind you makes you turn. He’s laughing. The beautiful stranger is chuckling with you.

“Thank you, so much!” You gush, eyes pouring gratitude.

“No problem, Miss.” He makes to leave you, headed back to his own corner but you take a step towards him.

“Y/N.” You tell him, reaching over to massage the top of your left forearm with your right hand. “My name is Y/N. You make me feel ancient calling me ma’am and miss.”

The blonde smiles wider, looking down at his feet before meeting you with that devastatingly gorgeous half smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” And he moves towards you, taped hand held out towards you.

You take it, eager to touch him and greet him properly.

“I’m Steve.” He tells you, shaking your much smaller hand gently but you already know it’s not because he thinks you’re weak but because he’s just polite that way. “Steve Rogers.”

“It’s nice to meet-” You blink, your own hand gripping his even tighter as the name registers. “Did you just say Steve Rogers?”

Steve blinks nervously, licking his lips and suddenly looking uncomfortable.

“As in Captain America, Steve Rogers?” You clarify, eyes wide, heart pounding.

“Um…” He looks around nervously for a second before meeting your eyes again and trying to pull his hand from your grip, but you tighten it more. “Yes.”

“I…” Your surprised expression gives way for genuine excitement. “It’s…It’s so great to meet you! I don’t—I don’t wanna sound like some fangirl or anything but we’re actually studying you in the academy right now. I’m so honored to meet you.”

You laugh once but Steve still seems slightly tense, you keep shaking his hand, laughing a bit more until you gasp.

“Holy shit! Captain America just taught me how to throw a punch!” And you really double over in a fit of laughter.

The odds of this happening, the likelihood that you would have ever met Captain America at this point in your life much less interacted with him, is so slim that you can’t believe your absolute luck.

Mid-laugh you get a look at Steve and find him a bit more relaxed, lips curved into a smile.

“I’m sorry.” You gasp, “I’m so sorry. I just, I’m so—thank you for being so nice. They tell you never to meet your heroes, but you’ve been great so far.”

Laughter subsiding, you finally release Steve’s hand, massaging your own as you cherish the memory of him holding it.

“I’m glad I haven’t disappointed.” Steve says, blushing but you’re pretty sure it’s just from having you gushing over him about being Captain America.

“Definitely not.” You chuckle again and shake your head. “Wow. Captain America.”

How had you not recognized him from those old photos you’d seen? He looks exactly the same now that you consider his face, just in color instead of black and white.

“What academy are you training at?” Steve asks, curious but you can see that he’s itching to ask something else.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. I’m…I’m trying to become a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. We’ll see how that goes. As you can see, I can’t even punch without help.” You chuckle at yourself and your lack of athletic ability.

Steve smiles at your laugh then his expression falls, and you know it’s coming, the real question he’d wanted to ask.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to tell the other cadets about me?” Steve wonders, an anxious hitch in his words that expose the oddly sensitive and fearful inner turmoil he’s feeling.

“No way.” You assure him, taking a step closer. “I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You chuckle again, the ludicrous idea of you actually possessing Steve Rogers in any way is unbearably hilarious. Look at him!

Steve’s expression softens, his worry fading as his smile returns. “Good. Thank you.”

“In exchange,” You begin, smiling at him innocently, the face of a deceptive angel. “Do you think maybe you could help me some more? I-I honestly really suck at all this fighting stuff and I’m not expecting to be a field agent at the end of the day. They’ll probably stick me in some office or comms room, but I still need to be able to pass my trials.”

Steve narrows his eyes at you, considering you.

“Please?” You beg, bobbing on your feet and then he smiles.

“Sure, kid.” He huffs a small laugh as you smile wide, your excitement making you almost dance before you turn to hug the punching bag because as much as you want to wrap your arms around Steve’s wide chest, he’s Captain America. You don’t want to embarrass yourself. “I’ll help you. On one condition.”

“Anything.” You chuckle, turning to look at him again, absolutely beaming.

“Let’s keep this little arrangement between us, okay? From everyone.” He asks.

Keeping Captain America as your trainer a secret? How hard can it be?

Hard. Things get very, very hard with Steve. The least of it being because you’re hopelessly in love with him.

It happened that night. That first night when he taught you to punch and after that you spiraled faster and harder. Falling more and more in love with him every single day. Now, you’re a mess of putty and affection and all you want is to love him but…he’s Steve Rogers. He’s Captain America.

He’s freedom and justice and truth and honor and kindness and loyalty and he proves it when he fights for New York. He proves it when he fights for the world.

You fall in love with him when he catches you to keep you from falling and when he gets annoyed with you because you struggle to hit your target.

You fall in love with him when he sits beside you and wraps a loose arm around your shoulders, comforting you because this is so hard and you’re so tired and you want to give up but he doesn’t let you.

You fall in love with him when he tells you old jokes that you’ve never heard before so that you’ll forget your worries and smile. He chuckles with you.

You fall in love with him when he brings you a stainless-steel water bottle with the Avengers A on it that matches the one he’s been using.

You fall in love with him when you hurt your ankle and he fusses, forcing you to sit despite your protests because your tests are only a few weeks out and you can’t take breaks because then you won’t pass!

You fall in love with him when he takes your shoe off to wrap up your ankle but then frowns when he sees the six Band-Aids you’ve placed over all your busted blisters, and the small bit of blood on your sock makes him hiss.

You fall in love with him because he takes you out to dinner even if it’s in a small hole in the wall restaurant where no one you know will see you.

You fall in love with him because he brings you a cupcake on your birthday with a single candle and waits as you struggle not to cry for you to blow it out.

You fall in love with him because Steve Rogers makes himself irresistible.

Because of Steve, you pass your trials.

You fall in love with him because he’s waiting in the alley outside of the academy, nearly bouncing with nervous energy as he waits with bated breath for you to tell him that you’ve passed. He picks you up. Hugging you tight. Twirling you once before putting you back on your feet.

You fall in love with him because he takes you to that restaurant again and he makes you feel like your success is his success and you hope that maybe while you’ve been falling for him, Steve has also been falling for you.

It’s a slim chance. Impossible really. But you hope.

You’re assigned to S.T.R.I.K.E. reporting to Agent Sitwell directly. You’re excited because it means that you’re with Steve. You’re going to work with him…but you didn’t think it through and it isn’t until you’re on mission number who the fuck knows, that you begin to see the hazards of working so close with the man you love but who doesn’t feel the same.

Sitwell has you watch Steve. “You’re his backup.” He says but it doesn’t sound like what he wants you to do is backup. It sounds wrong.

He has you reporting on everything Steve does on his missions but because it’s Steve and there’s nothing out of the ordinary to report. After two missions you get moved to comms and just as you’d assumed, you’re kept out of the fight but kept close for grunt work.

You get to know the team and they know you as the girl behind the monitor. Steve doesn’t look at you when you’re all in the debrief room or when you share the same elevator or even on the jet. Rumlow does. He greets you when you walk into the debrief room. He holds the elevator door for you—maybe he even beats Steve to it and that’s why Steve never does it? He smiles at you when you board the jet and you return his attentions without any agenda.

Your eyes are always on Steve anyway.

You’re almost sure that Natasha of all people will sense it. That she’ll just know that you and Steve aren’t simply coworkers and that there’s a friendship between you…but you’re on the jet as it flies over the Indian Ocean and nothing seems amiss.

Natasha is listening to Rumlow’s debrief without paying you any mind.

The Lemurian Star is hijacked and S.T.R.I.K.E. has been dispatched to take it back.

Sitwell is on it. You find this strange. So does Steve.

As they ready for their descent, you patch through to all of their earpieces, trackers set in place in case of accident. While you work, Natasha and Steve chat casually.

“Secure channel seven.” Steve says.

Speaking to you but…

“Seven secure.” Natasha affirms, before you can give him his assurance. “You do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead so, no, not really.” Steve jokes.

You smile, keep your head down so that no one will see. He’s told you that one before.

The pilot speaks, “Coming up on the drop zone, Cap.”

“You know, if you ask Kristen out-” Nat begins and your hands freeze over your keyboard, smile wiped clean off of your face as your body goes dangerously numb. “-from Statistics, she’d probably say yes.”

“That’s why I don’t ask.” Steve says more loudly as the ramp at the back of the jet begins to drop.

Does he mean that? He doesn’t know how you feel. He has no reason to lie. Maybe he really doesn’t want to be with anyone? He is always working.

“Too shy or too scared?” Nat asks, also at a higher volume.

“Too busy.” Steve says, matter of fact, then dives from the jet.

The mission goes through without too much trouble and you focus because you need to, but your mind has taken notice of the possibility that Steve might very well start dating and you don’t like it one bit.

After the mission, Rumlow asks you out. You say yes.

A few days later, at training, you tell Steve. Curious as to his own reaction when the tables are reversed. Not that he knows that hearing Nat had bothered you.

“Who?” He asks, breathing heavily as he lands another punch.

“Brock.” You repeat, licking your lips as you search for the smallest sign that this matters. That you matter. “Rumlow?”

“Oh.” Steve nods. “He’s…he’s dedicated.”

“Yeah.” You frown. “He is.”

Well, that didn’t give you much.

“Have you two gone out yet?” He asks, reaching up to scratch his forehead, avoiding your gaze in favor of cracking his neck and stretching his arms.

“Mm-hmm. Night before last. He took me out to dinner and then we went back to his place.” You explain, trying to remember the night with anything but regret. But you’d needed to get some, and Brock had offered. He hadn’t been so bad.

He’s nice for the most part. His politeness only a little forced. Nothing to Steve…but he asked you out.

Unfortunately, fucking Brock Rumlow isn’t exactly the highlight of your dating career and he’d been an impatient lover. It hadn’t been good; despite his size and the way his hands seem to know what to do, he’d finished before you and you hadn’t had your turn. You didn’t get it either.

Your itch still hasn’t been scratched. Damn it.

“You went back to his place?” Steve asks, stopping his neck cracking to look at you properly.

You nod, chewing on your lip, fiercely trying not to look at Steve in his thermal wear. It hugs his muscles, skintight. Delicious. “He asked me out again but…”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. I’m not feeling it.” You admit, pushing the itch away successfully.

“Then don’t go out with him. I mean…if you’re not feeling it, why should you?” Steve offers, quickly averting his gaze to the bag he’d been pummeling only to hit it harder.

Things change out of the blue. Director Fury is attacked. Steve is chased out of S.H.I.E.L.D. and you’re so confused and torn, and you know that Steve is a good man so how can anything S.H.I.E.L.D. says be true?

Steve and Nat disappear and you’re an anxious mess. No one looks twice at you because you’re no one. Steve had never spoken to you in front of the team other than to give you orders so they have no reason to suspect you. You’re the girl behind the monitor. Nothing more.

You hate to admit to yourself that they’re right to ignore you. Steve hasn’t contacted you since his escape and you’re beginning to realize that maybe this friendship had all just been in your head.

Maybe all you’ve been this entire time is a workout buddy?

With a more flexible schedule, you’re finally able to go to the gym during the day. That’s where you are when your phone suddenly rings. The musk of your place…yours and Steve’s…is comforting.

You sit on a wooden bench, the phone buzzing in your hand as an unknown number flashes up at you.

Something tells you to answer it, like the call of destiny, and you slide your thumb along the bottom, wiping at the sweat on your forehead with your forearm.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?”

“S-?!” You drop your voice down to a harsh whisper, hesitating before you spring to your feet, bag grabbed as you worm your way into the deepest, most secluded room of the gym leaving the din of the daytime regulars behind. You find a storage cupboard full of sweat wreaking mats and cleaning supplies, shut the door, and lock it.

“Is this line secure?” He asks, deep voice shaking as if he’s in pain.

“Steve, what-?”

“I need your help.” He interrupts, and he explains what’s happened. Hydra in S.H.I.E.L.D. Nat’s unconscious. They’re after him. This you already knew.

“What can I do?” You ask, desperate to help. Worried to the brim.

“I need an address.” He says. “In Washington. Man named Sam Wilson.”

“Sam Wilson?” You delve into your bag and pull out your tablet, swiping your thumb along the reader before you’re on your own VPN searching for what Steve needs. “I found it!”

You give him the address and feel a wave of relief to have assisted him in this small way.

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.” He sounds exhausted.

“Don’t be stupid, Steve.” You hesitate. “And…please, be careful. If something were to happen to you I…”

“I’ll be alright. It might be best if you stayed off the grid. Keep out of sight.” He suggests, sounding genuine, as if he might really truly care.

Still, you can’t help but scoff. “What for? I’m the last person they’re going to suspect. You’ve been very thorough in ignoring me at work.”

The seconds of silence that follow feel heavy. Scary.

“Y/N…” His voice full of trepidation, of remorse.

It had all come out of nowhere. This too had surprised you. One day you’d been working quietly at your workstation when Nat and Steve had stopped by to drop off their reports with you.

They’re always perfect and you rarely if ever need to correct anything on them, but they do it because it’s protocol.

~~~~~

Nat asks Steve about the nurse in his building and Steve’s cheeks flush. His eyes meet yours and you turn away quickly before he can see the agony ripping through you, fingers fumbling on your keyboard as you key in their report numbers.

Turns out the nurse is not a nurse. Agent 13. Sharon Carter. Skilled combatant. Full-fledged spy.

How can you, Agent 34, compare?

Steve had even asked her out for coffee…

“I don’t need that right now.” Steve had quickly said to Nat, eyes scanning the area. Fury had just been attacked and he’s on edge. “Thank you, Agent thirty-four.”

Nat scoffs. “Seriously?”

“What?” Steve asks, exasperated and irritable.

“She has a name.” Nat says, gesturing at you as they wait for their confirmation page.

“I know her name.” Steve assures her, sounding more defensive than normal.

“Hey…” Nat says slowly, turning to give you a long hard look. “Why don’t you ask her out? She’s already seen you in a bad mood. No fear that she’s going to run because of that.”

Steve looks at you, stealing quick sidelong glances at you as you shift in your seat, heart pounding, papers printing.

It gets so awkward that the air around you three begins to change. It’s like someone’s filled the room with fog as thick as Jell-O and you can’t move, much less breathe.

“Very funny.” Steve suddenly says, leaning against the higher platform of your desk with his elbow, “She’s not my type.”

Can you die from figurative pain? The knife Steve just sunk into your gut he twists as he turns to you and those storm blue eyes shimmer in the too white fluorescent light.

“No offense.” He offers.

“No offense?!” Nat asks, slapping his arm.

You plaster on a pained smile, wishing you could hide this better, but you shake your head at him, pretending as if you don’t see him almost every day at the gym. Pretending that he hadn’t bought you a cupcake on your birthday or fussed when he saw how you’d been walking around with open wounds on your feet.

Steve continues to stare at you, face stoic, eyes shifting nervously from your hands as you wait for the stupid papers to print back up to your own poorly guarded expression.

“Here.” You snatch the papers as they slide out of the printer and place them by his hand. “I’ll file these for you.”

“Thanks.” Nat tells you; her phone goes off. She pulls it out of her pocket and reaches over to grab Steve’s elbow. “Fury’s in surgery. We gotta go.”

She turns and leaves with Steve hesitating for a moment as you avoid looking at him, eyes glued to your computer screen, then he’s gone.

~~~~~

That was the last time you saw him.

“Do you like Sharon?” It’s a stupid thing to ask in such a dire situation. He’s busy. He’s running for his life and you’re worried about who he’s shacking up with? “Never mind. Forget I asked that. This isn’t the time. Steve, they’re watching all of the safe houses and all of the old facilities, so make sure you get to this Sam’s place and you lay low for a while.”

“I wish you’d get outta there.” Steve frets.

“Trust me. You’re gonna want a man on the inside.”

“Keep your phone with you. Just in case.” In case he wants to get a hold of you? “Stay safe, Y/N.”

“You too.”

The next time you see Steve he’s on the mend and you’re out of a job.

This is the first time you tell Steve goodbye.

He leaves you to go search for a friend…no, he doesn’t leave you. He’d have to be with you in order to leave you. And before he goes you never get the chance to ask him about Sharon.

Thanks to your resume and Steve’s relentless training, you’re hired by the C.I.A. and surprise, surprise, you’re given desk duty.

You find a sense of normalcy here at the C.I.A. Monitoring foreign affiliates and keeping your ear to the ground, it’s a nine to five gig and it gives you the life you thought you’d always wanted.

Only one thing is missing.

Another dull afternoon. Another report. Another bunch of nothing that threatens to drive you insane.

You slump back into your chair, stretching your arms overhead when your cell phone begins to buzz, skidding across your desk in short trembling intervals. It’s laying faceup and the Unknown Number that flashes across it reminds you of the call in the gym.

You don’t know why you think it might be him. He hasn’t called you in years, and yet here is your heart, beating wildly against your ribcage.

With a hard swallow, you answer your cell and know instantly that it isn’t him. When the voice that speaks is female, your heart fully falls into the pit of your stomach.

For a while you’d thought you were getting over Steve. But here you are, in agony all over again.

“Y/N?” The voice is hushed, urgent, but sweet.

“Sharon?” You hear this voice weekly. As part of the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, she’s often your liaison with the European branch.

“Hey, do you remember that one time we went drinking in Wyoming and you got so drunk that you slept with the bartender?” Sharon laughs, a perfect fake.

“Oh, yeah.” You lie, getting up and making your way to the door. “And you got locked out of our room because I had the key, so you had to sneak in and found the bartender asleep in the tub?”

“Yeah. That was so much fun. We should do that again some time.”

“Yeah.” You agree, moving for the nearest utility closet and turn into it at the very last second. Quickly you reach into your black pants pocket and pull out a small silver cube. It shines with a soft blue light and you know that you shouldn’t have kept any Hydra tech but this one was just so useful!

You place the square on the floor and press the top down. It clicks and then beeps as the radio wave scrambler powers on.

“Okay. We’re good.” You tell her. “What’s going on?”

You and Sharon have never shared drinks much less traveled together. Not that there was anything wrong with her. In fact, Sharon was downright admirable.

Not only was she the sweetest, nicest, most intelligent person in the organization but she’s also one hell of a shot. Weapons training hadn’t been your best subject in the academy, but you’d done well enough to pass.

“I’m with Steve.” She states and just like that you hate her again.

What is it about Sharon? What? Why Sharon? Why not you?

You hate the way it makes you feel. The yearning. The desperate feeling of loneliness as all of those soft moments with Steve in the gym replay in your mind’s eye as clearly as if they had happened yesterday and not two years ago.

He’d smiled at you so often, touched your shoulders and hips—of course he’d been positioning you but even when the two of you had been joking and laughing, he’d reached out and grabbed your arm or your shoulder.

“H-How is he?” You wish you were there. You wish you could see him too. You miss him so much.

“Not great. He’s looking for Bucky Barnes.” She explains and your mind is flooded with news coverage of the bombing in Vienna.

“He’s going after him to save him.” You realize.

Steve had never talked about Bucky or his past all that much. Most of what you know, you learned through reading. You don’t need him to tell you about Bucky to know that he’s important.

“Yes. There’s a file that we’ve kept under wraps. Known sightings. Location possibilities. Hideouts. And all of the new tips coming in. I need you to get me that file, Y/N.” Sharon’s voice drops lower. “I can’t talk long. You’ll find it on the seventh floor. Watch your back. Call me when you have it.”

The line goes dead and you’re not surprised that Sharon somehow knows that you’ll do whatever you can to get that file, to get those tips.

It’s easier than you thought. You go in under the pretense of helping them field calls. They welcome the help.

It’s a lot of noise. A lot of crazies and paranoid people calling with ridiculous or impossible tips. Although getting the information you need is easy, it takes about an hour.

When you have it, you pass it along to Sharon.

“Sharon? Is Steve okay?” You wish you could be there, see the expression on his face.

If there’s one thing you know, it’s how to know if Steve is really alright or not.

You’ve seen him struggle through his rage. Struggle to pull himself out of the past and into the present. You know what he looks like when it’s all too much and the smile that can come afterwards. You’ve helped him find that smile before.

“He will be.” She tells you. “Thanks, Y/N. This means a lot to me.”

To her? Why does it sound like she likes him? How can you still be this into him after so long?!

“Sure, but Sharon-” The line goes dead again. “Fuck!”

You look at it, your hand curled around the sleek phone eyes prickling at the corners and your chest hollower than you’ve felt it in a long time. Heartbreak feels like knives scraping along the bones of your chest leaving shards and caustic bone dust.

You’ve inhaled it and the pain is so precise that it takes your breath away, making you gasp and gape like a fish out of water.

For Steve, everything goes to shit.

You monitor everything and wait with bated breath as he fights his friends. The Avengers fight each other, torn apart by the accords first and Bucky second.

From this side of things, it looks so bad. Very bad. But you know that if Steve is doing this, if he’s planting himself in front of Bucky despite all the laws he’s breaking, there must be a reason. Steve doesn’t do anything without a reason.

The last you hear he’s run off from Germany. After he and the Avengers destroy an airport, he and Bucky escape, assisted by Nat. Tony pursues. Then there’s excited whispers as a new truth is passed around.

Helmut Zemo. It’s a name that echoes around you off the lips of other agents.

Bucky Barnes, framed. Avengers arrested anyway. Wrongly imprisoned, most think. But the accords were violated, others say. The world is split.

They’re heroes. But they’re scary.

You bury your face in your hands, lean your elbows against your desk, wanting nothing more than to know that Steve’s okay.

Your phone buzzes. Absentmindedly, you reach for it and answer, too worried to care who’s calling.

“Y/N?”

You shoot to your feet, heart in your throat, skin erupting into goosebumps.

“S-” Shit! “Hold on.”

You make a beeline for that utility closet, making no attempt to be sneaky about hiding in there this time.

Placing down your scrambler, you wait for the lights to indicate that it’s on before you speak again.

“Steve?” You ask breathless.

“Hey.” And his voice rises and falls, a sound of relief at the sound of your voice? No. But you are certainly happy to hear him.

“Hey, yourself, jerk. You’re a fugitive.” You tell him.

He huffs a laugh and you can almost see that beautiful half smile.

“Couldn’t have dreamt this mess up in our gym days, huh?” He sounds like he’s smiling.

You shut your eyes, fighting the tears that burn, the ache in your chest strong and demanding.

“Where are you?” You gasp.

“…Wakanda.”

You wait, thinking, your mind racing because he’s not just calling. He’s never just calling.

“What do you need?” You lean back against the door, pushing as much of the pining you’re feeling away so that you can focus on what Steve will no doubt need.

“It’s dangerous.” He warns.

“Steve…”

“I need you to break onto the Avengers Compound.”

“Hey!” You freeze, halfway to the jet, adrenaline racing.

So close. You’re so close! It’s right there. Maybe you can make a run for it? You suck as a spy!

“Don’t even try it.” The familiar voice warns. “Hey, I know you.”

Slowly you turn, face slightly shamed. Natasha looks as beautiful as she did two years ago. Her hair is different. A little more free-flowing.

“Agent 34…Y/N, right? What are you doing here? You don’t have clearance for this facility.” The corner of her lip curves up in a snarky smile. She’s all seduction and fun but there’s a weight on her shoulders that darkens her eyes.

“I…” You hesitate, but you can trust Natasha. You know that.

“You’re here for him, aren’t you?” Her smile falls, brow drawn together in a searching look of concern.

“Yes.”

She looks behind her, contemplating her options it looks like. With a part of her lips and a deep sigh of decision she moves for the jet.

“They won’t miss it.” She says, teasing smirk back in place. “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

The jet is fast. You miss travelling in them. This one’s better than the ones you’d been on in your S.T.R.I.K.E. days. It’s sleeker and quieter.

“So, you and Rogers…” Nat begins, swiveling in the pilot’s chair to face you where you sit a few feet from her. “There’s more there, right?”

You swallow hard, the painful feeling of rejection flooding back only it’s a ghost and it doesn’t hurt as much as it did once.

“She’s not my type.” Steve’s voice echoes in your head. He’d said it so long ago, but it lingers, saved away because it had broken your heart to hear it.

“Not what you’re thinking.” You tell her, sitting up too straight from nerves. “Steve trained me. We met at his gym. My gym, when I was training at the academy. We…we were workout buddies, I guess.”

You sound unsure and Nat quirks a brow at you, hearing the uncertainty. “It sounds like more.”

Sitting in silence for a moment, you ponder what it sounds like and she’s right, it had been more. For you.

“It was. For me. Not for Steve.” You smile at her, melancholic and exhausted.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell him?” She wonders, brow furrowed again.

“I-” Everything until that day in the jet when Nat had told him to ask out the girl from Statistics had made you think that you and Steve might be more.

It had all felt like it was moving in that direction. Until it wasn’t. And you weren’t his type.

“I didn’t think I had to. And then I wasn’t his type so…” You shrug, finding her jade green eyes piercing. She can see right through you.

When you pick up Steve, he hugs you. No hesitation. He pulls you in for a brief squeeze and your heart stammers and stutters before it finds its rhythm once again.

“It’s so good to see you.” He smiles, the very faint bloom of an old bruise is on his right cheekbone. You touch it and he lets you.

“This was worse.” You state.

“Yeah.”

“Where are we going?” Nat asks, turning away from the two of you to look at the nav.

Steve moves around you as you shut the back ramp.

“Here.” He tells her, an input of coordinates placed into the nav. “We’ll stop off in London and send Y/N home.”

“What?” You demand, shocked by your dismissal.

“You can’t come.” Steve tells you.

“Like hell I can’t. I’m already here. I stole the jet!” You argue, moving towards them.

“Technically I stole it. You’re just along for the ride.” Nat argues, turning to give you a smile.

“I’m not going to turn you into a criminal too.” He tells you, reaching out to grab your right shoulder.

“Steve…”

“I’m gonna need an inside woman anyway.” Nat cuts in. “If you’re willing to help us out?”

The argument to stay beside Steve now that you’re once again in his intoxicating presence begins to dull in comparison to your need to help. If you can offer them any kind of assistance, isn’t it your duty to do it?

“What do you need me to do?” You wonder, seduced by the promise of a mission.

You’ve sat behind a desk for too many years. You’ll need to train hard again, and it’ll suck without your gym buddy, but you can do it. For Steve. For Nat.

Nat smiles, Steve relaxes.

They drop you off on an abandoned carpark. The structure is crumbling and chipped, dusted cement flying up into the air as the jet lands. It’s close enough to the heart of the city that you can easily find a cab but secluded enough that their presence doesn’t raise an alarm.

Both Nat and Steve walk you down the ramp, stopping when their feet hit pavement.

The night is almost over and the in an hour the sun will begin to rise.

Steve’s second goodbye looms over you and it saps you of all previous determination to help them from a distance.

“So, I just go back to the Compound in three days and they’ll have me on file?” You keep your eyes on Nat because the pain of looking at Steve is too great.

“Yep. Just go to the front desk and tell them it’s your first day and they’ll get you upstairs. I’m not sure what Tony will have you doing but they’re going to need to fill our vacancies. I’m sure he’ll find use for you.” She nods.

“Okay.” You lick your lips, hesitating, biting into the soft flesh of your lower lip to give you the courage to look at Steve again and after only a few hours of sitting beside him, you have to tell him goodbye once more.

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes on the ground.

“Why did you have to wait until you were on the run to call me?” You ask him, hating him just a little bit but not enough to matter.

Your tone brings his eyes up and his storm blues search for reproach.

“I’ll be inside.” Nat tells him, then heads back up.

“I’m sorry, I know that I should have-” He begins, looking genuinely apologetic.

“You never answered my question.” You cut in, moving so that only a foot of space stands between the two of you.

“What question?”

“Do you like Sharon?” It almost kills you to repeat the question. All the oxygen in the world seems to have vanished as you see the confusion mar Steve’s handsome face.

Even after two years, you’re afraid of his answer.

“What? I-”

And because you know that if you don’t take the chance to tell him now, to make him see, you’ll never get this chance again. Whatever it is he has with Sharon, whether it’s real or fleeting or if it’s something that’s been going on for a long time—you should feel bad about doing it but you don’t because he was yours first you just hadn’t had the guts to tell him so—you push all your guilt away, fist the collar of his black jacket and pull him down until your lips meet his.

You feel him pull back for a split second, the unexpectedness of your kiss surprises him but then his lips pucker back, but only just. It’s as if he’s still uncertain as to whether it should be happening. Large tentative hands slide along your hips, strong fingers pressing into the womanly soft barely maintained muscle.

The kiss ends quickly. It’s burning and has your heart pounding but it’s meek. He’s not sure if he should be kissing you and still, he pulls back to look into your face.

“Why-?”

“Because you said I wasn’t your type. And you had asked Sharon out for coffee so I…I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to lose your friendship and I ended up losing it anyway.” You lament. “Things are different now. You’re on the run and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again, so I just wanted to—I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you. I’ve been dreaming about it since the day I met you.”

You have nothing else to lose. Why not go all in?

“I love you, Steve.” You let that stand, wallowing in his stunned silence as the jet behind him whirs to life.

“Steve, we gotta go.” Nat calls back, sounding sorry.

“It’s okay if you don’t love me. I just…I needed you to know. Maybe now that you know, I can move on?” You shrug and offer a small smile.

Steve frowns, hesitating once again before he leans down to kiss you again, lips open, the softest caress of his tongue before he’s pulling your bottom lip as he ends the kiss. Too quick. Too fast.

There’s no time.

“I wish you’d said something ages ago.” He tells you.

“You should have said something when I told you about Rumlow.” You counter.

He makes a face, looking of your heard as he licks his lips. He leans back down to meet your gaze. “Did you really sleep with that guy?”

“Yes.” You admit. “He came before I did and then fell asleep.”

Steve growls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

“Did you and Sharon-?” You begin.

“I kissed her.” Steve admits.

It hurts and you tear your eyes down to his chest. You have nothing to say however, you slept with Rumlow.

“There was nothing there, kid.” Steve assures you, trying to get you to look at him again. “I mean there was something but…it wasn’t this.”

You still can’t look at him.

“It wasn’t us.” He clarifies.

Chest warming, your heart begins to flutter, stomach all a-tumble as you meet those bright storm blue eyes of his.

“We’re both stupid.” You tell him.

“Steve…” Nat repeats, a little firmer.

“I have to go.” He says forlornly. “I don’t know if I’ll-”

“No, Steve. Just…stay safe. Keep moving. Don’t stop. No matter what happens, you cannot let them catch you. We’ll figure things out.” You know that it’s very possible that this, tonight, is all you’ll ever have.

He could be on the run for the rest of his life or he might fall in love with Nat? Or someone else on his journey to outrun the law. He could very well change his name and settle down somewhere with some French woman in some cottage in the countryside and have kids and never think about you again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, reaching up to trace the shape of your cheekbone.

“Me too.” You sigh, rubbing slow circles along the hard planes of his chest. “Go.”

He leans down one last time and this time you’re both on the same page.

He kisses you with feeling, lips parting, tongue confidently tasting you as you kiss him back, hands worming their way into his sunshine hair.

It’s another quick kiss. Too fast. Over too quickly. He presses his forehead to your own, lingering there for a moment too short.

“Please be safe.” You beg him.

He pulls away, hurrying up the ramp before turning to wave at you as the jet lifts off and disappears into the expanse of velvet black. That is Steve’s second goodbye.

When you come to, the world is different.

You can feel it in the air. Too quiet. The world has gone too quiet.

The compound is almost completely silent. You can hear screaming outside but you’re not sure why.

As you stumble for the door, you’ve been sleeping in Steve’s room because Tony had told you that this is your home now and that Captain No Shame doesn’t deserve a room so you should take it, you stop by the mirror and look at the bright red pinprick on the side of your neck.

You hiss, sucking in air as you stare at the injection site.

“Fucking, Nat.”

~~~~~

“Hey, there stranger.” She greets you with ease, all ethereal beauty with pale blonde tresses and the same if not sharper glass edges. Her on-the-run lifestyle has only enhanced Nat’s naturally assertive demeanor, but she looks relaxed in your doorway.

“Nat!” You’re up in an instant, gliding towards her with your arms wide open. She smiles fondly and greets you with a hug.

“Hey, Y/N.” She greets lovingly. “How’ve you been?”

“Me?” You chuckle. “How are you? Where’s-?”

“He’s coming. Running late.” She nods as you pull back and then gestures at your desk. “What are you working on?”

“Oh.” You turn back to your desk and hurry to pull the charts open, spreading them out on the sleek wooden desk.

You bite your lip, trying to focus on what you’d just been so invested in, but knowing that Steve is coming…after years of waiting of wanting and loving from a distance with only a handful of phone calls to keep you going…

“I…I’m getting these weird readings. Or Bruce’s equipment was. Tony and I have been mapping the spikes in energy and we’re not exactly sure what they mean but they’re getting close.” You explain, and as you do you find yourself able to focus.

“Tony, he’s-?”

“Gone.” You sigh. “He and Pepper went jogging with Happy in the morning but…then that thing…”

“He didn’t send any distress calls?” Nat wonders.

“No. Pepper said that he was…was on that ship.” Your voice gets tight, worry and grief because what if he never comes back?

“Tony’s a fighter.” Nat’s hand finds its way onto the back of your right shoulder. “He’ll be back in no time.”

You smile at her words, staring at your charts. “Yeah.”

Because you can’t help it, your mind drifts back to Steve.

“Nat, when you said he was on his way-?” You gasp, Nat’s other hand shooting up to your neck as a piercing pinch stings your neck.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. We both know you and you’ll never stay behind willingly.” She explains, her brow drawn close as she frowns at her own actions.

“N-Nat…” You whisper, trying to grab her wrist but you’re already so weak.

You lean into her.

“S-Steve…” You mutter.

“He wants you safe.” Nat explains, just as your vision blacks out.

~~~~~

It takes you too long to make your way down to the first floor of the Compound. People are still rushing about, panicked looks on their faces. Some of them are crying or huddled in corners of the large lobby.

One girl is simply standing, staring out at the front lawn.

There are too few people. That you know.

Where is everyone?

“Hey.” You call to the girl standing by the window. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“They disappeared. They…they just fell…like dust. Like paper…they’re gone.”

“What do you mean they’re gone?” You demand, staring around at the panic before you move around her to plant yourself in front of her. “Hey, what do you mean?”

She looks at you, almost as if she’s seeing you for the first time. Her eyes spill over with tears as she begins to smile then she suddenly realizes something. “I…I need to call my mom.”

She hurries off, and you move outside, staring across the lawn at strange patches of dark ash. There’s so many of them.

As you turn to look back inside, you see the same strange patches around the floor inside the lobby. At the receptionist’s desk, there’s a smattering of the same ash on part of the floor but then the rest is over the desk.

Fear turns your ice into lead. You fist your pockets for your phone, breathing faster and faster until you’re sobbing as you realize that the patches of ash were people. All you can think about is Steve. Nat. Vision. Rhodey.

When you finally manage to pull it out, you dial Steve’s number and wait as the phone rings and rings and rings.

Night comes. People leave the compound. It’s you and your panic and you don’t know how to fly the jet so you can’t take one to Wakanda because you know now that’s where they went.

You fall to pieces on the lawn. Like the ash that surrounds you, you very nearly crumble into nothing as you wait and wait and know that the longer you wait and hear nothing that it’s more and more likely that Steve is gone. Steve has vanished like the rest of these poor souls.

You’re curled up on the ground, clinging to the sanity in you that remains, when the hum of the jet overhead pulls you up.

You jump to your feet, searching the black for the lights, the tiny twinkles of hazards in the night.

When you spot it, your body freezes and you follow its descent with wary eyes. You’re too scared to hope. Too fragile to think that he’s in there only to find out that he’s not.

The ramp slowly descends and he moves towards you, bearded and sweaty and his old uniform is in near tatters and discolored but there’s pink on his cheeks despite the white of his lips and his hair is grimy but long and he looks so perfect that your legs give out on you.

You fall to the ground with relief and you’re sobbing harder than before as Steve runs towards you.

“You’re still here.” He gasps, his voice strained as if he were trying not to fall to pieces like you have.

You know why. The team, what’s left—Nat, Rhodey, Bruce, Thor?, a raccoon?—need him. They need Captain America right now, more than they need Steve Rogers. But as he looks down at you, when you meet his gaze full of relief and gratitude, you know that it’s Steve looking down at you.

“I thought you were gone.” You cry, gasping as you reach up to cling to him.

He wraps you up, hold you tight, and kisses your head as he helps you to your feet.

The next few days pass in a blur of discovery. So many people are gone. The count is endless.

Fury is gone. Maria, who you’d only met a handful of times during your time at S.H.I.E.L.D. is also gone. Pepper comes to stay on the compound, missing Tony so much it breaks her heart every time she looks at his armor.

You try to comfort her as best as you can but you know that until she knows for certain where he is, if he made it, or if he’s gone…nothing will help.

Bruce, Nat, and Steve find a beeper. They don’t know what it does, but Fury had it and it’s sending a signal, so they keep a close eye on it.

The next day it shuts off. Then she shows up. Carol. She brings back Tony and you’re crying again. You’re a mess. Pepper is ecstatic even thought Tony looks like he’s dying.

Carol is strange, but kind mostly. Powerful. You can feel it radiating off her.

Together with Carol they find the guy responsible for the Snap. Thanos.

You want to go with them. You get dressed in your uniform, lightweight deep plum Kevlar, a vest to match. Guns already holstered at your hips.

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, moving to you.

“I’m coming with you.” You stand up.

“No.” He says gently, “Kid…I…”

He takes hold of your biceps and slowly pushes you back down to sit on the end of his bed. He kneels in front of you, settling between your knees. His hands trace the constricted sinew of your arms, squeezing a few times in his need to feel you.

“I need you to stay.” His eyes are imploringly cruel.

“I’m not leaving your side again, Steve.” You argue, the devastation from before beginning to take hold.

“And I can’t take you out there knowing that something might go wrong. You’re too important, Y/N.” He reaches up, cupping the sides of your face as his thumb traces the soft plush of your lips. “I need to know that you’re here, waiting for me. If I have that then I know that I can concentrate on getting back here. To you. To us.”

“Steve…” You beg, knowing that he can’t stay.

It’s not even a question you’re tempted to ask. He must go. You want to go with him.

“When I come back, we’ll really do this. Us. I’m ready for you, kid. Finally.” He smiles, trying to ease the tension but your face is a grimace of heartache. How many times will Steve Rogers tell you goodbye?

“I can’t lose you.” You whisper, desperate to keep from crying.

“You won’t.” He promises. “We’ll get the stones from him, we’ll get everyone back. I’ll come home and you and I…we’ll move out. We’ll get a little apartment and—”

For some reason he hesitates, swallowing hard while bringing his hands down to the soft flesh of your thighs. He squeezes them, sliding his thumbs closer and closer to your core.

“I wanna make love to you and make you mine.” He whispers shyly.

Suddenly nervous but oh, so excited, you slide closer to him.

“Do it now.” You plead, hoping that maybe it’ll keep him here. Keep him home. “Fuck me, Steve. Love me. I want you.”

You’re not playing fair and you don’t care. He also seems to know that you’re highly aware of how cruel this is of you because he huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he slides those large hands back along your hips to rest on your bum.

“I should have known when you coerced me into training you that you’d try and do it again at some point.”

“I had to try.” You shrug.

“Why did it have to take so long for us to get here?” He asks, not really asking you, just wondering.

“Because you’re an idiot.” You remind him. “And I didn’t think you’d want me.”

“I want you.” He assures you, sending your heart into a barrage of flutters, stomach wheeling. “Trust me. But I have to go.”

You lean forward, burying your face against his shoulder.

“And I need you to stay.” He finishes, and you’ll do it. For him. Because he’s so much more broken than he’s let anyone see. Even you.

“Fine.” You pull back. “But hurry back to me, Steve. Because I’ve been waiting almost ten years to have you inside me.”

His cheeks flame but his eyes darken. He leans into you, catching your lips in a searing kiss.

You reach for his waist, fingers knocking into the tools on his belt. One falls, clinks and clatters on the floor.

Pulling back, both of you look down at the small round metallic item.

“What’s that?”

“My compass.” He tells you, reaching down to grab it.

“Can I see it?” You ask him, curious because of the clear shade of age bronzing the metal.

Steve quickly slides it into his pocket. “When I come back, I’ll show it to you.”

“It looks old.”

“It is.” He states simply but rises, pulling you to your feet with him.

“Keep an eye on Tony.” He tells you when you’ve reached the front lawn, the rest of the team already aboard the Benatar.

“Of course.” You nod, giving him a smile instead of the tears you really want to shed.

He leans in towards you one last time, nose to nose, eyes shut. “I love you.”

Just like that, you want to chain him to a chair and keep him here where he can repeat those three words over and over until you die of old age.

“I love you.” You gasp. “So much.”

He pulls away, gives you that signature half smile of his, and for the third time, Steve tells you goodbye.

~~~~~

They come home empty handed. Defeated. Broken. Thor disappears shortly after they come home. Tony and Pepper leave. Bruce does too.

Nat, Carol, Nebula, Rhodey, and Rocket start having meetings, discussing the problems the world is facing. They’ve accepted the truth…no one is coming back.

They’re gone.

Forever.

Steve walks into your shared room. He stops in the doorway, stares at you as you wait for it to hit him. For him to give way and finally shed the weight on his shoulders.

He meets your eyes.

“Steve?”

He smiles, holds his hand out for you, and nods towards the hallway.

“Come on, baby. I need some air.”

Buy Me a Coffee!

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[cowboisss]

god I only just found your blog and I have to say, your Hosea smut is ON POINT!! It's so damn good. So now, naturally, I crave more - could you maybe write about Hosea and a female reader, where Hosea is very gentle with her but the reader wants a bit uhm, rougher sex, so one night she just starts calling him 'sir' all of a sudden? and he is really into that? Or! If you don't wanna write that I'd also happily read any other smutty Hosea x reader scenario you fancy! I just want more Hosea smut ;;

Sir - Hosea x Reader 

A/N Thank you so much omg I always worry when I write so hearing that makes my heart happy :D I tried to make it a little rough, but that is just so hard for me to do, so I tried my best aha. Here it is, I hope you like it and that it lived up to expectations! 

This is just 2,000 words of pure, absolutely unadulterated smut and you know what that means

18+ ONLY PLEASE, NO YOUNGINS

The night was fast approaching, the hotel room warm and cozy. Hosea’s lips were warm against your neck, and his arms felt like a protective shield wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him. 

“Evenin’ Hosea,” you murmured contently, letting yourself relax into his arms. It was rare the two of you ever got alone time around camp, so when he suggested that you go to a hotel in town for the evening, you were all for it. 

“Evening,” he replied, his voice low, and you already knew what he had in mind. With a small chuckle you spun around in his arms, coming face to face with him and planting a soft kiss on his lips. You brought your hands up to cup his jaw, deepening the kiss, and when you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. 

“It’s been a while…” you mused, a sly smile dancing on your lips. “Reckon you still got it in you?” You couldn’t help the teasing, and Hosea took it all in good faith as he replied with another kiss. 

His words were soft and gentle against your skin, barely tracing their way to your ears. “Of course darling, especially for you." 

Oh how he longed for nights like these, with no one to steal his attention from you and all the time in the world to do nothing but love you. The only lights in the room were the twin electric lamps on the bedside tables, which gave off a warm glow that did nothing but soften your already delicate features, and burn them further into his memory. He tenderly traced your cheek with his thumb, eyes focused on you and you alone, and he planted a kiss on your nose, causing you to let out a giggle. 

Before either of you knew what was happening the clothing layers you had were gone, and the only fabric you felt was the plush of the hotel bed sheets against your bare back, enveloping you. Your hands roamed of their own accord up his own bare chest, committing each and every dip and curve of his geography to memory as if you hadn’t already done so many times before. 

Pulling him down into another kiss, you nipped at his lips, begging for a slice of what you knew to be the rough outlaw he was, but instead he remained his ever-gentle self, pulling away and pressing loving kisses to your jaw and neck. You knew that tonight, like all the other nights, would be exactly the same if you didn’t do something. 

With a barely audible whine you nuzzled your face into his neck, breathing in his scent before letting your head fall to gaze into his eyes.

"Hosea, please,” you begged, pouting your lips at the quizzical look he gave you. It appeared you would have to spell it out for him. “Please, sir." 

Something inside him shifted, and the dawning of realization appeared on his face. Suddenly his eyes were darker, and his hand traveled further down to grip your hip with more force, though still not enough to bruise. Ever the gentleman, even now. 

"I’m sorry darling, what was that?” He asked, quietly, teasingly, and you felt the edges of a playful pout make their way onto your lips.

“Please, sir, I need you…” In one fluid motion you wrapped your arms around his neck and arched yourself to kiss him once more, and the grunt that left him was enough to tell you it worked. 

And the kiss. Dear Lord, the kiss. Never before had he kissed you with the ferocity with which he was kissing you now. You couldn’t help your moans, tumbling from sloppy, open mouthed connections that lasted as long as either of you had breath to spare. 

As you began to roll your hips in eagerness, Hosea left your lips for your neck, pressing the same messy kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. Each one left a parting gift of a barely noticeable nip, as if he was trying to hold himself back but couldn’t help his own eagerness just a little. 

“I hope you know,” he said, punctuating every word with a kiss in a different spot, “that I don’t intend to be gentle with you tonight, dear, now that you’ve gone and done that.” You almost rolled your eyes, pressing your own kiss to his neck.

“Why do you think I said it in the first place, sir?” You whispered, voice breathy, right by his ear. Rather than replying to you, he simply chuckled lowly and trailed his hand down your body, flitting over the curve of your hip and over the surface of your thighs, before finally, finally dancing over the place you needed him most. 

However that dance was soft, too soft, and short lived, and as he pulled his hand away you let out a faint whine, bucking your hips to try and follow his hand like a dog begging for scraps. 

“Ah ah ah,” he said, stilling your hips. You obeyed, and his hand moved from your hip up your torso, until his thumb met with the peak of your nipple, tracing it over with care and eliciting quiet moans from you. His eyes flicked to your face for a moment before he dipped his head down, setting his mouth on your nipple and making you nearly gasp. That is, until he lightly bit down, and you actually did gasp. 

“Hosea-!” He shot you a half-playful, half-warning glare, eyebrows raised, and your cheeks heated up. “I- I mean, sir…”

“Good girl,” was all he murmured before returning to your breast, and this time you knew what to expect.  

“Please…” you begged after some time, yearning for more than just his mouth on you. “I need you, I need more, please…” He seemed to take pity on the way you whined, and without missing a beat one of his hands found your core once more, and promptly buried a finger deep inside you. 

You let out a loud cry and you hands buried themselves in his hair, while your back arched further and begged of its own accord. Not soon after, he added another finger, and stretched you so deliciously open. By now, you couldn’t stop the noises falling from your mouth even if you wanted to, and that seemed perfectly fine by Hosea. There was no one from camp to hear, after all. 

He parted himself from your chest to gaze into your face, though his fingers did not stop nor even slow down their assault. “Does that feel good dear?” He growled, speeding up his fingers ever so slightly, to which you replied with a small nod. 

“Yesss…” you drawled, head tilted back and eyes closed and not at all noticing the gaze of adoration he fixated on you. You gripped the bed sheets tightly, knuckles turning white as you focused on the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out, in and out of you. He laughed as your hips began to buck wilder, a sign he knew to mean you were close.

“You’re such a good girl, fucking yourself on my fingers… So needy…” He pressed his nose to your neck, kissing it. So rare was it for Hosea to swear like that and so welcome was the shift in his demeanor, that you felt yourself tense up at his voice. He grinned at that, curling his fingers ever so slightly and drawing out another cry from you. “Do you like that, hmm?" 

"Yes, sir, yes…” It seemed that was all you were capable of saying as of that moment, though the growl that he emitted told you that was beyond okay. 

“Then cum for me, darling,” he demanded, “come on, cum all over my fingers.” You yelped and moaned as he curled his fingers once more, letting yourself tumble into pure bliss as everything around you went white. 

When you finally opened your eyes, Hosea pressed a kiss to your lips, rough and hungry and letting you know that this was far from over. Your chest heaved from exhaustion but nonetheless you wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him close. He brushed a hand against your cheek, and you gladly nuzzled into his hand, before he swiftly pushed himself inside of you and drew out your loudest cry yet. 

He set a punishing pace almost immediately, causing the bed headboard to smack against the wall behind it, adding to what you were sure were many scars that decorated it. How he had this in him you weren’t sure, but you welcomed it with open arms. 

Suddenly he sat back on his knees, gripping your leg with one hand while the other took hold of your throat, and you nearly came right then and there. You moaned loudly, causing him to let out a low chuckle and squeeze your throat a little harder.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he groaned out, his voice gravelly and full of lust. You looked up at him through your haze, your mouth wide open as you let out a continuous string of moans and “sir"s. His usually neatly combed hair was a mess on his head, sticking with sweat to his forehead as his brow furrowed in concentration. 

He gazed right back at you, the corners of his mouth upturning into a small, almost tender smile. You were absolutely gorgeous like this, and he loved to just watch the way your face contorted in pleasure. He moved a hand from your leg to your clit, rubbing it in feather light circles and causing your core to tighten up. You gripped his forearm, feeling the cord inside of you threatening to snap. "I-I’m gonna-”

“No. Hold it for me, darling.”

Your eyes widened, as of that moment you couldn’t think of any time that he denied you, and this was certainly new. Nevertheless, your desire to please him overrode your shock, and you clenched yourself in an endeavor to control your oncoming orgasm, though you weren’t so sure how long you would last.

“Please, I… I can’t…” you panted, eyes screwing shut. He didn’t let up his relentless pounding, though he did loosen his grip on your throat a little, choosing instead to gently caress your neck with his thumb. 

“Yes, you can. Be a good girl for me,” he murmured, leaning over to give you a kiss, before picking up his pace even more. You were on the verge of tears, a stream of begs falling from your lips as you used all your effort to keep your climax at bay. You let your hands run down his back, dragging your nails and making him groan.

“Please, please, pleeeease…” You cried, and Hosea’s eyes softened. Sweetly, he moved his hand from your throat to wipe away the tears on your cheeks, though it wasn’t long before it returned.

“Go on, sweetheart.” The hand on your throat tensed up as you clenched around him, and he sped up his touches on your clit. “Cum for me, give it all to me.” 

You nearly screamed, gripping onto Hosea for dear life, arching your back into him as he continued to thrust into you. You vaguely registered when he growled and stilled his hips, only noticing when he buried his face in your neck and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. 

Slowly, you relaxed your body, already feeling the effects of exhaustion taking their toll. Hosea had collapsed on top of you, and preceded to roll over onto the bed, giving you room to breathe. Neither of you said anything for several moments, the only sound in the room being your heavy breaths and the distant noise from the saloon on the floor below. Eventually, he turned his head to look at you, a soft, satisfied smile on his face. 

“Come here, darling,” he said, bringing you closer to him and wrapping his arms around you, before pulling the covers over both of you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked, tenderly running his fingers over your neck. You shook your head, nuzzling into his chest.

“No, I’m okay,” you replied, letting out a quiet yawn. “Just really sleepy.” He chuckled, kissing your head and then resting his chin on top, simply enjoying the feeling of you cuddled against him.

Soon enough your eyelids grew heavy and your breathing evened out, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic beating of Hosea’s heart. Hosea was quick to follow.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes. You mumbled your own half-asleep confession, causing a smile to appear on his face as he succumbed to a dreamless, satisfied rest.