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keeryhours · 2 months ago

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wildflower chapter two

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

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Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Corroded Coffin performs their homecoming show in Hawkins, and mistakes are made.

Chapter Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, drunk sex, underage drinking, secret baby

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This next chapter was a long time coming, but I hope you guys enjoy!

—

The rest of the week was a blur. You hadn’t thought of Eddie this much in over a year, and having him thrown back into your consciousness was like opening an old wound. You tried your best to push it out of your mind and keep yourself busy with work and chasing after Asher, but it was fruitless.

Steve and Robin were at your apartment Thursday night, the usual hangout since the three of you shared the night off. Asher was fresh out of his bath, dressed in his pajamas and sitting on the floor showing off his toy trains to Robin, who, to her credit, showed equal enthusiasm even on the 50th time of seeing the same Thomas the Tank Engine.

Steve and Robin had come armed with movies - these weekly hangouts usually turned into movie nights, especially when something new came into Family Video that one of them snatched up. Not that you’d complain.

“Alright, Ash. Time for bed,” you said, although the nearly 2 year old paid you no mind as he picked up Percy, the green train.

“You heard her, buddy. Time for the trains to go back to the station,” Robin said, helping the toddler gather his toys.

Asher pouted, but he helped put the trains in his toy box anyway. Once the toys were cleaned up, you lifted him into your arms, heading into his bedroom. A fresh diaper and a kiss goodnight later, you turned the lights off and slowly closed the door behind you.

Back in the living room, you flopped down on the cheap couch with a deep sigh.

“What’s on your mind, Henderson?” Robin asked, still lounging on the carpet. “You’ve been in your head all week.”

Steve looked at her like she was dumb. “Corroded Coffin?”

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “Are you thinking about going?”

You sighed again, running a hand through your hair to push it out of your face. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Steve looked at you sympathetically. “You know…it might be good. You never got that closure. Even if you just want to go to throw a drink in his face.”

You bit back a grin at the idea. He deserved it, that was for sure. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you think you’re going to wonder what if for the rest of your life if you don’t go?”

Steve’s sudden sage words caught you off guard. You hated to admit he was right. After these two years of wondering what you had done wrong to deserve his abandonment, there were definitely still wounds deep inside that never had the chance to heal.

Maybe you did need to see him.

—

Saturday night, with Ash at your mom’s house, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t believe that you’d let yourself be talked into this. Dressed in a short black skirt, tight top with a leather jacket over top, you felt like you were looking at your high school self again. Like nothing had ever changed. Like Eddie was going to walk up behind you at any moment and wrap his arms around your waist with a wink and a “Looking good, baby.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked as you walked back out into your living room. Steve and Robin wouldn’t be blending into the crowd at The Hideout as well as you would, and the idea nearly made you laugh a little.

“I guess so,” you said. “I’m ready for a drink.”

The Hideout really wasn’t much different than you remembered, besides the fact that it was absolutely packed full with a huge line out the door. It was surreal to see so many people wearing Corroded Coffin merch, the crowd absolutely buzzing with excitement.

Inside, you pushed your way through to the bar, Steve and Robin following close behind. You may still be a few months away from 21, but you knew that wouldn’t matter.

“Hey, Chris,” you greeted the bartender with a smile. He hadn’t changed a bit in the past two years.

“Well! Long time no see,” Chris greeted, his face lighting up. He pushed three beers across the bar without having to be asked. “I should have known you’d be here to see your boy play.”

Your boy. You resisted a wince as you passed bottles to Steve and Robin and opened your own, taking a big swig. “Yeah, of course.”

The crowd was intense. It had been a long time since you’d been in this scene - hell, it had been a long time since your nights had been more exciting than an episode of Sesame Street. Visually you fit in, but you still found yourself standing off to the side with your friends rather than joining the crowd of fans.

You downed your beer in no time and ordered another. You were already multiple beers in before the opening act even came on.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, eyeing you as you popped open your fourth beer. “We can leave if you don’t want to do this.”

You shook your head. You were already here, you were going to do this. “I’m good,” you assured him, waving him off. He still eyed you warily, but didn’t push it.

You barely paid any mind to the opening act. Sure, they were good, but you knew what you were waiting for. Your heart thundered wildly in your chest, although the nerves in your stomach were fading with every drink.

When the opening act left the stage, the change in atmosphere was palpable. The crowd began to chant and cheer, and then -

There they were.

Gareth walked out first, drumsticks in hand. You felt your breath catch in your throat - the memories came rushing back. The other guys followed behind, and then finally - Eddie.

Eddie sauntered out with a cocky grin and a hand up in a wave to the crowd, who were screaming so loud you thought your eardrums might burst. Your blood felt like ice, you didn’t think your heart could beat any harder without killing you. He looked like himself, but there was something obviously different. He wore a tight pair of ripped jeans on his long legs, a Metallica tee with the same leather jacket he always wore. You hated how familiar it felt. He carried himself with the confidence of a real rockstar. You supposed that’s what he was now.

He approached the microphone. “Hello, Hawkins,” he drawled, and the cheers somehow grew even louder. A bra flew from the crowd and landed at his feet, and he reached down and picked it up with a chuckle, hanging it on the mic stand. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s good to be back in our hometown,” he continued, that grin still on his face. “You guys made us what we are. We owe it all to you. We couldn’t imagine ending the tour anywhere else.”

The crowd ate up every word. And Eddie looked like he reveled in the attention. He looked so natural on stage. He was living his dream, after all.

As Gareth hit his drum sticks together and the band started their first song, Eddie scanned the crowd. You had felt sure you, Steve, and Robin were far enough into the shadows on the sides that you’d be unnoticeable, but with that magnetism you two had always shared - Eddie’s eyes locked on yours.

He froze. The cocky facade dropped and his mouth parted in shock as you stared at each other. You felt dizzy all of a sudden, like you might pass out. Ever observant, Robin noticed immediately, eyes darting between you and Eddie. He nearly missed the opening line of the song before he jolted back to awareness.

“I need another drink,” you mumbled, pushing through the crowd and back to the bar.

You didn’t slow down on the drinks as the show went on. Eddie was taking shots onstage, like he needed to feel numb just as bad as you did. By the end of their set, Eddie was drunk, yet he still managed to perform perfectly.

“Thank you, Hawkins,” he slurred into the mic as the show ended. “Next round’s on us for everyone!”

That set the crowd even wilder than they had been. The band exited the stage, and you pushed back through the crowd to the bar again, stumbling in your boots as the room tilted around you. You heard Steve calling your name from somewhere behind you, but you lost your friends in the crowd in your pursuit of yet another drink.

“One more on my tab, Chris,” you slurred once you reached the bar.

“Add her whole tab to mine,” an uncomfortably familiar voice came from behind you. “And another round of shots for me and the boys.” You felt chills across your skin as Chris nodded and pushed you another drink before he poured the alcohol into four shot glasses.

You saw his ringed hand reach forward and grab one of the glasses. You slowly turned to meet his eyes as he downed the shot, shooting you a smirk as he smacked it back down on the bar top.

“Well,” he slurred, his eyes just as glassy as your own. “Hello again, beautiful.”

You were so drunk that you didn’t even remember how he hurt you. How he abandoned you. You just saw Eddie, and your heart reached for him through your chest just like it always did.

“Eddie,” you whispered, as if there was nothing else to say.

He kept smirking at you, his large hand landing on your upper back and then sliding down to rest on your hip. His eyes roamed over your outfit, drinking you in hungrily.

You didn’t mind.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his hand squeezing your hip posessively and pulling you closer. Your head spun with the motion, and you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from Eddie himself.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, both to him and to yourself.

“Want me to take you home?” he asked, leaning forward, his voice a purr in your ear. It sent goosebumps across your skin.

Even in your drunken haze, you knew you shouldn’t say yes. Eddie had done something truly shitty to you, and you had no intention of forgiving him that quickly, or maybe even at all. But he was just as intoxicating as the large amounts of alcohol in both of your systems, and you found yourself letting him lead you backstage and out the back door.

You were so drunk yourself that you hadn’t even thought about whether Eddie could even drive in his state, but he ushered you into the back of a car with a man already sitting in the driver’s seat before sliding in beside you. His hand rested on your thigh as you told the man the address of your apartment, rising higher and higher until it was teasing under the hem of your skirt.

He pulled you into him as the car started moving. Your lips found each other like they’d never been apart, and he kissed you hungrily, tasting like alcohol and cigarettes, but you didn’t care.

Neither you nor Eddie seemed to care a single bit that there was a stranger in the front seat as an audience to the two of you all over each other. Your apartment wasn’t far from the dive bar, and before you knew it you were stumbling out of the car hand in hand with Eddie, both of you giggling like it was 1985 again and you were just two kids in love.

It took you three attempts to unlock the front door of your apartment, your vision hazy and your brain even fuzzier from the feeling of Eddie’s hands all over you, pushing up your top right there in the hallway while he placed sloppy kisses against your neck and shoulders.

When the door finally opened, you barely had time to kick your boots off and drop your leather jacket before Eddie was pushing you up against the door, slamming it closed. You moaned against his lips as they devoured your own, his tongue exploring your mouth desperately. He pulled your top over your head and dropped it to the floor. Your lipstick was smeared across his face, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“Look so fucking sexy,” Eddie mumbled as he moved in to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking love bites all across the skin. “I’ve thought about you every day.”

You didn’t have the brain power at the moment to process those words. The drinks had already taken all concepts of critical thought, but every moment of Eddie’s mouth and tongue against your neck drowned out coherent thought itself.

His hands lowered from your hips to the back of your bare thighs and he squeezed. You worked in tandem just like old times as you jumped up for him and he gripped your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was already through his jeans, pressed up against your core.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked breathlessly, moving back to your lips.

“Last door down the hall,” you mumbled back, and then you were pulled away from the door as he walked down the hall, carrying you like you weighed nothing. He was sloppy, still drunk and knocking into the table in the hall, sending a picture frame falling to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

He pushed the door open to your bedroom, and seconds later you landed on your back on your soft mattress. Eddie’s eyes were completely glazed over with lust, locked on yours as he kicked his shoes off and started unbuckling his belt. You watched him with equal hunger as he undid his tight jeans and pushed them to the floor, his excitement obvious through the material of his boxers. He leaned over the bed and reached behind you to unzip your skirt, pulling it down your body and leaving you in your bra and panties.

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders and grabbed onto the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it. His body looked the way you remembered it, the familiar lines and curves coming back to you as you roamed your hands over his soft skin like second nature.

“Eddie,” you whined, pushing your hips up against his painfully hard erection. He hissed at the contact, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your chest. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra, your nipples quickly pebbling in the cool air. His mouth moved to envelop one of your nipples, his hand attending to the other. He swirled his tongue around it, sucking on your tits as you arched beneath him.

It had been a while for you, honestly.

“Fuck, need you so bad,” he muttered. He sat up on his knees, eyes raking over your body for only a moment before he reached for the hem of your panties. He pulled them down your legs quickly, urgently pushing his boxers down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. He wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing, another hiss leaving his lips.

He grabbed the backs of your thighs again, spreading your legs and pushing them up towards your chest to take in the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him. He muttered another “Fuck,” under his breath.

He traced a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness on his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you, just as sweet as he remembered.

He leaned back over your body, lining himself up at your entrance, not a single thought about protection going through either of your minds. He pushed in quickly, causing your back to arch and a gasp to fall from your lips, fingernails digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he stretched you intensely.

“Too big,” you managed to squeak out, which made Eddie chuckle against the skin of your neck.

“You can take it,” he assured you, starting up a slow pace, although it pained him to do so. “You always took it so well.”

It didn’t take long for your body to remember his. The pain faded into pure pleasure within the minute, and then you were moving your hips along with his thrusts. Eddie noticed and picked up the pace of his hips, giving up on being careful and fucking into you with reckless abandon.

High moans spilled from your lips, your eyes falling closed as the feeling of him enveloped you completely. You could think of nothing but the pleasure he was providing with every press of his cockhead against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. Even after all this time, he knew exactly how to fuck you.

Eddie’s own grunts and groans were unashamed as he rutted into you with no real rhythm, drunkenly chasing his own release inside you. Somehow through the drunk and lust filled haze, he had the thought to reach down and rub tight circles on your clit, building that tightening feeling in your belly faster and faster.

“G’na cum,” you whined, your pussy tightening around his cock enough to make him moan even louder as he started fucking you even faster.

“Yeah, princess, that’s it, cum on my cock, just like that,” he babbled encouragement, his own release approaching rapidly. “Fuck, yeah, all over my cock baby.”

Your orgasm crashed through you with the power of a fucking train, and your eyes rolled back, body trembling and pussy clenching around him over and over again as you chanted his name, sounding just like all his groupies at the concert.

That’s all Eddie needed to fall over the edge with a hissed “Shit, shit!” and a low groan against your neck as he spilled inside of you, filling you deeply with ropes of his cum.

Once you were both spent, Eddie pulled out of you, rolling off and collapsing on the bed next to you. You both caught your breath. You wondered if you should say something, but the pull of sleep in both of your drunken minds was too strong. It wasn’t long before you heard Eddie’s soft snores, before you were pulled under, too.

—

You were woken up by a pounding at your front door.

Still, your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light filtering through your bedroom windows through the pounding headache already plaguing you. Your heart stopped in your chest when you saw Eddie’s naked form still sleeping next to you.

Fuck, what did you do?

You jumped out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants before walking into the living room before whoever was pounding on the door woke up your entire apartment complex.

You swung open the door, irritated, to find a panicked looking Steve standing there.

“Jesus Christ,” he said when you opened the door. “You just disappeared last night. I thought you got abducted or something.”

The guilt and emotions hit you as the full reality of what you’d done fell on your chest. “Steve…” you started, unsure how to even explain yourself.

“How did you even get home? You just went to the bar and-“ Steve stopped cold, wide eyes trained at something over your shoulder.

Despite the dread in your stomach, you slowly turned, seeing Eddie standing in the hallway behind you, looking sheepish and dressed back in his jeans with no shirt.

“Uh, hey,” he said, a hand running through his curls.

Steve slowly looked back at you. “What the fuck.”

You didn’t even know what to say as you looked between the boys. Eddie looked down at the picture frame on the floor that had been knocked down last night.

“Oh, shit,” he said, almost to himself. He leaned down and picked it up. “I, uh, might have knocked this over-“

He froze. And the second you realized what photo he was looking at, you did, too.

It was Asher. A recent portrait, The toddler sporting a huge gap-toothed grin, his big brown eyes and wild head of curls mirroring the man currently standing in your hallway.

Eddie stared at the photo, completely unmoving. You didn’t even think you were breathing at this point. You could feel Steve’s presence behind you, everyone frozen waiting for someone to make a move.

He finally looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours with questions swirling inside that you didn’t want to answer and he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to.

Eddie said your name softly, fear lacing his voice. “What is this?”

tag list

three of you it wouldn’t let me tag, so if you requested to be on the list and you aren’t here that’s why! i’m sorry :(

@awkward00noodle @american-idiot-jpg @georgeweasleyslostearhq @fandom-princess-forevermore @emxxblog @hopesicle @hellv1ra @whimsiwitchy @avalon-wolf @kellsck @toomuchbucky @sashaphantomhive @losingmygrasponreality @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddiesgirl1944 @ashcal99

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ambrozjas · 1 year ago

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the gang x reader who loves makeup ꨄ︎

the outsiders x reader (separate)

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

guys i swear i’m working on your requests i just wanted to use this as a filler to feed you guys while you wait, but trust me, i’m workin on it 💕 thank you for all the likes and reqs !! love you all xoxo

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, makeup, reader is compared to “a girl in a magazine” in johnnys part, kissing?? i dunno 😭

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

DARRY’s thumb rubs along your thigh. he lay on his bed while you were sat at the desk besides him. you placed your vanity mirror on the wooden surface and had been working on your makeup for about half an hour.

darry had seen his mother put on makeup whenever she’d go out with his father, so he had a better idea of makeup than someone like steve or two bit. he liked whenever you asked him questions like ‘this or that’.

“which one? peach or mint?” you asked as you held up two lip glosses, the peach gloss in a soft pink tube and the mint in a sage green one.

darry seemed to think for a moment, humming in thought. “th’peach one.” he finally said, nodding his head in the direction of where you were holding the peach tube.

“thanks, dare.” you mumbled, your lips forming an ‘o’ shape, ready for application.

“why do you always put on makeup?” he asks, eyes fixated on you. a satisfying pop of your lips before you look over to him and shrug.

“dunno, makes me feel pretty.”

“you’re always pretty, darlin’.” darry continues, moving his hand from your thigh to your hand, interlocking both your fingers and squeezing.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“how d’ya get that thing so close to your eye?” SODAPOP asks. you’ve been doing your makeup for about ten minutes, soda watching you like a hawk.

“i just raise my eyelid and put the curler to my lashes, piece’a cake.” you shrug, mouth open as you apply some mascara. “really?” he asked, taking a glance at your drawer full of makeup products, an assortment of pretty colored tubes, he would guess were either for your lips or eyes.

“yeah, why? you want some?” you laughed, expecting a ‘no’ in return but got only silence. you looked back at him. soda had just shrugged exaggeratedly.

one thing let to another and you ended up perched on sodapop’s lap, his eyes closed as you decorated his lids with blue eyeshadow.

“soda—! don’t crinkle your eyes!” you exclaimed, your boyfriend simply chuckled and gently grasped your wrist. “‘s not my fault it tickles, babe.”

soda opens his eyes to look at you, pulling your palm to his lips for a soft kiss.

“you know, you just ruined the eyeshadow, right? your eyes are hooded so the shadow will get—“

“shh, i’m tryna be romantic ‘ere.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“oh, PONYBOY!” you squealed, dragging out the ‘y’ in his name and running down the hallway already carrying your makeup bag.

you poke your head in through the doorway to find pony laying on his bed, nose buried in another one of his books. he glanced at you, already suspicious of the fact that the rest of your body isn’t visible.

“huh?” he questioned, his eyes flickering between the words of the book. “you wanna be the best boyfriend ever and do me a favor, pony?” you grinned as you dragged out the syllables in his name.

“what’re you doin’?” he inquired. you started to step slowly into view, your bag held behind your back. “i just need’a see somethin’ real quick.” he sat up a bit as you got closer to him and placed the book on the desk next to his bed, careful to mark the page he was on with a bookmark.

you finally bring your hands around to your front, unveiling the small makeup bag filled to the brim with products.

“oh, no.”

“oh, yes.”

“no! you ain’t touchin’ my face!”

and before he knows it, ponyboy has a face full of makeup on and you’re finishing it off with some sparkly highlighter on his nose.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had a date with JOHNNY at the drive-in, planning to see one of elvis’ new movies.

you had done your makeup, using the multitude of products you had in your room, and you looked snatched. your hair was cute, whether greased up or not, it never failed to look effortlessly gorgeous, johnny always thought so.

he was already waiting at the drive-in, accompanied by dallas who unfortunately was “chaperoning” him for the night, probably just trying to keep a lookout for drunk broads.

when you had arrived though, boy, was johnny astonished. his eyes widened at just the sight of you, it was like you were a princess walking up to him in slow motion.

once you had caught up to him and dally, johnny couldn’t help but mutter, “y’look like one of those ladies from the magazines..”, he gawked at just the utter sight of you.

“thank you?” you giggled and gave a quick peck to his lips. “i’ll get us a coke!” you jogged over to the concessions area with a bunched up wad of money in your hand. johnny watched you walk away, mouth still parted a bit in shock.

dallas, being the shithead he is, rudely tapped johnny’s cheek, making him close his mouth. “you’ll catch flies, johnny.” he said, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette.

once you two had actually sat down, dally chatting up some girl a few feet away, johnny turns to you. “s’that a new lipgloss?”

“yeah, you like it?” you asked, blowing him an exaggerated air kiss after.

“tastes sweet.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“c’mon, doll, it’s been like twenty minutes.”

“hold on, DALLY, i have to finish this wing!” you affirmed, your words altered with the way you opened your mouth so your skin would stretch, giving you the perfect opportunity with eyeliner and mascara. one struggle almost everybody goes through, is getting the other eyeliner wing to match the other.

“you’ve been at this for a while, just draw a line ‘n call it a night.” dallas insisted, he didn’t much like waiting, and he never understood why people took so much time just to do their makeup.

“no, you don’t understand. it has to be perfect.” you said, enunciating the ‘p’. you look at dallas in the reflection of the mirror and see him sigh in defeat and hollow his cheeks with another inhale of a cancer stick.

“you better not be smokin’ that thing in here, stinkin’ up my whole room.” you wrinkled your nose, the smell of cigarettes never leaves your room as long as dallas comes over.

“you do it too.”

“i smoke outside, not where it’ll penetrate a whole room full of cute things.” you rebutted.

“whatever you say, doll.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“do i look like a pretty princess?” TWO-BIT asked as you applied blush on his cheeks. you and his kid sister giggled at the sight. two’s eyes covered with all sorts of bright pinks and yellows and blues, colors that his little sister suggested.

“yes keith, you look like a pretty princess.” you said, watching two’s nose scrunch at the brush tickling his cheeks.

“what next?” you asked to his sister, turning to her as she held a finger to her chin in thought. then, it was like a light bulb went off inside her head. she grinned at you, a catlike smile that you returned, one that made two-bit worried about what would come next.

“lipstick.” was all she said, and immediately she handed you a bright red lipstick. you let out a soft laugh as you looked at two-bit’s expression, cocking an eyebrow as usual.

“you ain’t doin’ what i think you’re doin’, right?” he asks, then you wiggle the tube of lipstick at him, getting it closer as he shifts away. he placed his hands up in defense, “baby—! c’mon, you wouldn’t do that to your wonderful lovely boyfriend, would you?”

as he tries to scurry off, you hook your leg around his waist and keep him in place while his little sister laughs hysterically in the background. you grip his cheeks so his lips could purse, giving you the perfect access to apply his lipstick.

he ends up looking like a scrapped lisa frank design and that lipstick ends up in kiss marks littering your face, accompanied by ‘eww’s’ in the back provided by two’s sister.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“shit! it burns!” STEVE yells, his lips a cherry red with irritation.

“why’d you put it on your lips?” you threw your arms up, representing a ‘what the hell?’.

“thought it was your lipstick thingies!”

“why would you put it on your lips in the first place, steve?” you laughed and rushed over to get a paper towel and a few ice cube. “i thought it’d taste good.” he muttered, his lips a comical plump as he glared at the tube, feeling silly how he didn’t read the white letters on it saying ‘duck plump’.

when you came back, you sat down next to steve, gently wiping off the gloss before he snatched the napkin and wiped it off aggressively himself, desperate to get it off.

you both looked at each other before he looked down at the ice cube. “wha’s ‘at supposed to do?” he asked. you stammered, “i don’t know you were in hysterics! ‘pleasee! oh please get it off! it burns—!’” you cut yourself off with a laugh, laying back on the bed.

“yeah, yeah. whatever..” he grumbles, throwing another glare at the lip plumping gloss that lay abandoned on your desk.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ thank you all so much for all the love n requests, i swear i’m writing them just give me some time 🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

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fandoms-writings · 6 months ago

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Little Schemer

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.5K (hehe)

Summary: Secrets got Bucky into trouble with you, but he'll never do it again, if you'll give him another chance. This is for the drabble request "choose me" & "let me hear you make that sound again" <3

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, angst, secrets were kept (no cheating, i promise), emotions, smut, p in v smut, fingering, oral (fem receiving), spanking, slight bdsm, bordering overstimulation, some aftercare.

A/N: thank you so so much to @perdidosbucky-yyo for beta reading for me, i love youuuuuuu <3

Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist

Bucky knew he fucked up. He shouldn't have kept you in the dark like he did, but he was just enjoying having you to himself - that you didn't know who he was. You were a breath of fresh air in this godforsaken town and he just wanted it to stay that way for a little longer.

He wasn't ashamed of himself, but people treated him differently when they knew. Much like when you learned who he was - what he is.

As he pulled up to the bar's back door, turning his bike off, your face flashed in his mind. The tears, the anger, the shake of your head when he tried to reach out to you. He swore, just thinking about it made his heart break all over again.

The door opened next to him and he turned to see Steve standing there with a confused look in his eyes. "You good?"

Bucky nodded and sighed, standing from the bike and pocketing the keys. "I'm fine."

He shouldered past Steve, not wanting his brother to see the turmoil he knew he was wearing on his sleeve.

He quickly spotted the table in the back of the rundown bar where the others were sitting, smiling amongst each other and chatting and laughing. He plastered on a grin, hoping it reached his eyes enough to be convincing as he approached the table.

He just had to get through this little gathering and he could go home. Go home and wallow in his self-pity and sorrow.

But as he came up to the edge of the table, a laugh from across the room had his blood freezing in his veins. It took all of his effort to keep from tripping over his own feet as he slowed to a stop.

His friends at the table gave him concerned and confused looks as they watched him turn, peeking over his shoulder to the source of the laugh he hadn't heard in two weeks.

His heart strained in his chest when he saw you. You were laughing at something the guy sitting next to you had said, the smile on your lips as beautiful as it always was. He saw the way your fingers fiddled with the fabric of the skirt you were wearing, the sage green satin already wrinkled under your hand. It was a nervous tick of yours, something you did when you were upset or anxious, or just not having a good time.

Bucky fought the urge to go over to you, to get the guy away from you and get your hand to stop picking at your skirt. He was about to lose that fight with himself, insert himself into a situation that had nothing to do with him, when Natalia stepped up next to him, bumping his arm with her own.

"You're being obvious James," Her voice was quiet as she spoke, "and by the way you're looking at her, I'm assuming she's the reason you've been so off lately."

He pushed a heavy breath through his nose as he continued to watch you, your smile dimming. "What about it?"

Nat stepped in front of him, pulling his attention from you and down to her red hair. "Make a decision." She softly demanded, reaching forward to pat his chest, right above his heart, "Make a good one."

She stepped past him, walking back to the table. He heard her quiet voice tell the others to leave him be, that he'll either join in a minute, or he won't, and that was that.

Bucky looked back at you, watching as you excused yourself from the conversation with the stranger and stood from your barstool. The man tried to caress the side of your arm, but you dodged out of his reach, quickly making your way to the other side where the bathrooms were.

Bucky straightened his shoulders with a deep breath, intending to wait for you to return to try to speak with you, but when he noticed the man from the bar stand and follow your path, he started seeing red.

His feet started moving before he could stop himself, refusing to believe that maybe you wanted this guy to follow you. That you were leading him to a more secluded area. Away from prying eyes and eavesdroppers. He wouldn't believe it because he knew you, and he knew what that look on your face meant.

He quickened his pace when he saw how close the stranger was getting and he could see the uncertainty, the anxiety, in your eyes as your unfocused gaze swept passed him to try a subtle look over your shoulder.

Your eyes widened slightly when you spotted the guy trying to be nonchalant about following you, and your steps faltered. You were too slow in your reaction to turn back to your route and catch yourself, but Bucky was there, your sides freezing under his touch as he caught you.

He tried to will the anger from his face as you gazed up at him, your eyes focusing on his before he leaned down. "I've got you, he won't touch you."

You swallowed and took a shuddering breath, but you nodded to him, the tension beginning to ease from your muscles as you righted yourself, your hands reaching and landing on his arms. The warmth from your skin seeped through the long sleeves of Bucky's henley, shivers instantly threatening to crawl up his spine.

"Where were you trying to go?" He asked, trying to keep the rage from his voice as he watched the man gain on you, "I'll walk you there."

"The bathroom," Your small voice replied and he curtly nodded, but before he could guide you there, you spoke again, "I was going to hide there until I could sneak out without him seeing."

A fist closed around his heart, "You're here by yourself?" At the nod of your head, Bucky's head started to spin as he thought of solutions for you. Frank might get mad at him for what he was about to suggest, but he'd handle him later.

"I have somewhere better for you," He said, slowly guiding you away from the bar guy who was watching you two, "Will you trust me? Just this once." He knew it was a lot to ask, considering how he'd lied to you for months, but he knew that you remembered how he'd always put your first. Your happiness, your satisfaction, your safety. Nothing else mattered to him until you were taken care of and protected.

Your chin dipped in a nod and Bucky immediately began cutting a path through the growing crowd, his hand on your lower back as he led you to the other side of the bar, quickly and thoroughly.

It wasn't long before he came across the door he was looking for, and knocked before swinging it open. Inside was Frank's office, but luckily the man was out of town for the week, so no one would come knocking.

Bucky ushered you inside before closing and locking the door, pulling the blinds shut so no one could peek inside the small office window. He kept the lights off, but the lights from the bar showed through the small cracks in the blinds, throwing light stripes of yellow through the room.

Bucky looked through the blinds, watching the man from the bar as he looked around the space, looking for you, only to mutter to himself before going back to sit at the bar.

"You can wait here as long as you need," Bucky softly said, turning in your direction, but not fully looking at you.

"Won't Frank be mad?" You asked. You'd met him once when Bucky first started dating you. He'd paid Frank to not tell you about the club, and once Frank saw how far gone he was for you, he kept his part of the deal.

"Let me worry about Frank," He assured you, "If you need anything, I'll let Wade know you're back here," He reached for the handle, "Lock it after I leave, alright?"

"Wait." Bucky froze at the frenzied tone as you called for him, his hand on the door handle. The next words of yours were muttered on a low breath, and the sorrow dripping from them sent a crack through his chest. "Why won't you look at me?"

"I... "He hung his head with a sigh and released the handle before turning towards you with his hands on his hips. "I didn't think you wanted me to see you. Or that you wanted to see me."

Your soft footsteps padded closer as his gaze remained on the floor, the toes of your shoes coming into his vision. You'd worn those simple black flats you loved so much. They were your everyday shoes. There were no bows and no straps. The most unremarkable thing you owned and yet the sight of those shoes so close to his boots made his heart leap into his throat.

"James," You called for him, your voice dragging soft fingers down his back, a shiver following in its wake. "Why would you think that?"

"Because of what I did," He muttered, "What you saw me do."

He heard you heave a breath at the mention of the incident he'd been replaying in his head since you walked away. The blood coating his knuckles. The gasp that fell from your lips. The dread that had instantly flooded his chest at those wide eyes of yours as you backed away.

You, running from him.

"Will you please look at me?" The crack in your voice pushed him over the edge and he finally raised his eyes to meet yours. It may have been dark in that office, but even on the blackest of nights, Bucky would know exactly where to look to find your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

"No, no you don't apologize," His words were heavy on his tongue as he scrambled to understand why you were saying that. "I'm the one who scared you, and lied to you."

"And I'm the one who ran off before you could explain yourself," Your fingers fidgeted in front of you like you were keeping yourself from reaching for him. "It's not like I didn't know."

Bucky's whole world froze. "What do you mean?"

You let out a weak scoff, "Come on, Bucky, it's not hard to connect the dots, I just had to want to connect them."

At the shock that must've been written all over his face, you let out a small sad laugh.

"I mean, c'mon," You started, "I get asked out by this motorcycle guy, who everyone else in town seems to be scared of. He's the only one in town who doesn't wear one of those vests and is the only one who the club leaves alone." You took a step forward, reaching for his hand. He let you take it in your gentle hold, your fingers turning it over so his knuckles were on display. "He also shows up to my house with weird bruises and cuts on his hands that he has no believable explanation for."

You looked up from his hand, not letting it fall between you.

"I just wish he would've told me," You whispered, "If I had known, I wouldn't have gone looking for you that day. I would've seen your text saying you were busy, and left it at that."

Finally, you let his hand go, taking your warmth with it and he tugged his lip between his teeth to fight the urge to reach out for you.

"And now, I feel like I have to choose between now you and past you. The you I know you are, and the you I thought I knew."

He took a deep to steady himself, though it came out shakier than he wanted it to.

"I'm so sorry," His voice strained in his throat, "I just didn't want you involved. I liked that you didn't know who I was. I just wanted to enjoy that while it lasted."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You asked, your arms wrapping around yourself.

"I was," He may have been quick to answer, but he didn't want you thinking for even a second longer than you already had that he was going to keep you in the dark forever. "I promise, I was going to tell you, but I didn't want to scare you off."

You were quiet for a moment, and he could see those gears turning in your head as you contemplated his words.

"Please," He whispered, "I'll do anything. I'll do anything you ask if you choose me. The me you now know I am."

You took him in for a second - the bags under his eyes, the weight dragging down his shoulders, the pained sorrow lining the edges of his face. "Tell me everything."

"Everything?" He asked.

"Everything. No more secrets. No more hidden skeletons." You dropped your arms and stepped toward him, "I want to know it all. And then, I'll decide."

His stomach erupted in nervous butterflies, realizing this was it. This was his last shot.

So he told you all of it.

How he ended up a part of the club in his early twenties. How you'd stumbled across a rare moment of him having to defend his club's integrity from another. How even though he has to do those things, he doesn't necessarily enjoy it - he's just good at it.

Some parts had you laughing, pulling a smile from his lips at the joyous sound that seemed so out of place considering the situation. Others had you hastily wiping the tears from your eyes as you sniffled.

He spilled his guts to you. He turned over every stone and shone a light in every dark corner of his heart. He laid it out before you, for you to examine and judge, but he'd do it a thousand times over if it meant you'd let him sit next to you like you were.

You two were in that office for hours. The bar had hit its peak hour. The music outside the office had turned from quiet rock to bassy club as people filed in to dance. The lights had lost their old yellow and turned to blues, greens, purples, and pinks, flashing through the blinds.

When he was done telling you his life story, from the moment he joined the club to you sitting across from him, you were silent, staring up at him on the leather couch.

"Thank you," You whispered, your voice barely audible over the bass on the other side of the wall. "Thank you for telling me."

He nodded, his chest aching in suspense as you continued to watch him.

"Do you really love me?" You asked, "You said in your story about how when I ran off, you couldn't believe you fucked up the one relationship you'd ever cared about and lost the only girl you ever loved."

Bucky's heart fell to the pit threatening to swallow him whole. He remembered saying those words, but he didn't think you'd heard them clearly enough because you hadn't acknowledged them. He hadn't meant to let them slip quite like they had, he wanted to tell you in a much more romantic way, but his mouth was moving faster than his brain.

He dipped his chin in a nod, "I do." Your lips twitched up in the corners and that was all he needed to gain more confidence in his emotionally raw state. "I love you, and I've loved you from the moment I first heard you say my name back to me."

You didn't say anything back, you just sat there with that small grin on your lips as you contemplated him. Everything that he was. Bucky didn't usually like being the center of attention, being examined. But with you, he'd remain under your eye for as long as you allowed. He did his best to ignore the race of his heart as he waited for a response, but your next move did nothing to help ease its fast pace.

You slid over to him, gently raising your knee and setting it on the other side of him, straddling his thighs as your hands rested on the front of his cutte. He wanted to grab you, desperate to have his hands on you, to feel you again, but he didn't want to push you. So he fisted his hands at his sides as your fingers trailed up his neck and to his chin before resting on the sides of his neck.

"I've missed you," You whispered, the smile falling from your lips as your eyes traced the lines of his face. "I want to choose you as you are now," You started, his heart racing at your words, "But you have to keep being honest with me. No more secrets."

Your nose brushed against his as your eyes looked up from his lips and his breath caught in his throat. "No secrets. Ever," He whispered, the movement of his words brushing his lips every so gently against your own. "You have my word."

"If you ever keep a secret like that from me again," You muttered, your words crystal clear as they engrained themselves into his heart, "There won't be another chance. Got it?"

He nodded, "I understand."

"Good," You remained close, your breath fanning against his lips as his hands itched to reach for you. "Are you going to touch me?"

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, imagining his hands touching you after the things you've seen him do was the hardest part. He didn't want to stain you with the bad side of him, the red on his hands.

"Bucky?" Your voice brought him back, and he opened his eyes - when had he closed them?

He wanted to voice what was racing through his mind, but he couldn't find the words and decided to save them for another day. Instead, he asked, his voice hardly above a whisper, "Can I touch you?"

There was a certain understanding in your eyes as you nodded, "Of course you can."

His hands found their way up to cup your face, the calluses of his fingers brushing against your soft cheeks. "Can I kiss you?"

You let out a soft laugh as you nodded. That was all he needed before he closed that minuscule gap between your mouths, groaning when your hands tightened against the sides of his neck.

Your lips danced to a familiar tune, but there were new notes now. Understanding and trust, however fragile and new. Longing and relief at starting fresh.

Your lips parted, allowing him to taste the subtle drink still on your tongue from hours ago. His hands slid down your shoulders and ribs, landing on your hips and pulling them against him. A whine vibrated through your chest into his mouth and the heat that filled his being was overwhelming as he rocked your hips with his hands.

"I'm never losing you again," He said against your lips, "Never."

"I'll hold you to that," You breathed out, tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth.

"You better." His hands squeezed your hips, pulling them down again against the hardness in his jeans.

"I love you, James," His hands slowed as you pulled away. "I love you so much, and that's why I was here tonight."

His brows pinched together. "What do you mean?"

"I know you come here every Friday night," You said, "And I didn't want to talk over the phone, and I didn't want to lose my nerve and hang up before you could answer a call, so I came here hoping to see you tonight. And I'm glad I did." You smiled down at him, your hips still moving against his.

He shook his head in disbelief and shock as he loosed a huff of a laugh. One of his hands left your hip and reached up to stroke your cheek. "I love it when you scheme about me."

You let out a shocked laugh, "I do not scheme!" Your laughter burst out as he grabbed you and flipped you around, hovering over you on the couch.

"Alright alright, whatever you say," He muttered into the skin of your neck as he trailed his lips down its surface, inhaling the scent of you as he made his way to the bit of your breasts that showed when he pulled your shirt down, "Schemer."

You opened your mouth to deny the nickname but you hadn't realized his hand trailing up the inside of your shirt, sneaking its way under your bra, his fingers gently pulling at your nipple. Whatever you were about to say broke off in a soft gasp, ending in a little whine that was like fuel to the heat driving Bucky's hand under your skirt.

It trailed up the softness of your leg, tracing soft patterns as it climbed before landing over the damp cotton covering your center. He pulled the fabric to the side and groaned a soft 'fuck' at the slick that instantly coated his fingers before they slowly circled your clit. "I want to taste you," He said the words into the skin of your breast, "Will you let me taste you again?"

"Please," You begged, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling at the roots, "please Bucky."

He smiled into your skin as both of your hands worked to pull the fabric of your skirt up to your waist. Bucky wasted no time pulling your underwear to the side and languidly dragging his tongue up your slit, moaning as your taste flooded his mouth.

"God I missed this," He wrapped his mouth around the entirety of you, his tongue working slowly as he savored the moment. He would never take another moment with you for granted again, he was going to take his time to brand everything into his mind. The way your eyes fluttered but tried to stay open to watch him. The feeling of your hands pulling on his hair when he slipped two fingers in, curling them against your walls. The breathiness in your voice as you begged him to let you fall over the edge of release.

"Bucky please," You struggled to grind into his mouth when he pulled away again to watch your cunt greedily swallow his fingers.

"Can I take you home?" He asked, looking up at you.

You looked down at him, the exasperation in your eyes almost making him laugh. "Now?"

He nodded, "Yes," He curled his fingers again, a smile growing on his lips as your jaw dropped and let out another delicious sound, "I want to fuck you properly, not in this office."

"What if I want you now?" You asked, your voice tight and he groaned at the confession.

"I would fuck you, but I don't want Frank coming back and smelling you in here," He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, "That's only for me."

A low whine filled his ears as you tugged your lip between your teeth and nodded, "Okay, but you're driving."

He curled his fingers one more time, relishing in the gasp you sucked in before he removed his fingers from you, sticking them in his own mouth to suck them clean. The sight made you moan before you leaned forward and pulled his hand away so you could capture his mouth with yours, tasting his mouth as he blindly adjusted your underwear and skirt back to normal.

You two left the office, locking it behind you and weaving your way through the crowd that had gathered in the bar. Bucky laughed as you began to dance behind him while he led the way. When you both got to your car, you tossed him your keys and he sent off a short message to Steve letting him know he was leaving his bike around back. Steve had the spare key and would take it to the club for him.

Bucky couldn't remember a time he drove so fast as he drove to your place, especially when you were sitting in the passenger seat looking at him the way you were. Your hands trailing over his lap, gripping him through his jeans.

Your hand had made it past his belt and zipper, sneaking under the waistband of his boxers to start stroking him as you trailed kisses down his neck when he pulled into your driveway. He hastily threw the car in park and turned it off before turning to you and pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

He pulled your hand out from his jeans and pressed the keys into your fingers, "Get inside," He mumbled against your lips, "You have two minutes before I come in there and take what's mine. I don't care where you are."

You whined, trying to kiss him again when he pinned you with a look and you shuddered, nodding.

"Go," He whispered, chuckling to himself as you scrambled to get out of the car and raced up your front steps. He fixed himself back into his pants, not bothering to redo his belt, before getting out of the car. He wouldn't have cared, but he didn't want any of your neighbors calling the cops for his indecency.

He made sure to grab anything you left in the car and lock it before slowly climbing the same stairs you ran up. You'd left the door open in your haste, and your house was quiet as he stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He undid his boots, refusing to drag anything on to your soft clean carpets.

As Bucky climbed the stairs to your room, he pulled his belt off, loosely wrapping it in a loop as he approached your half open door, pausing at the sight before him.

You were sitting against the headboard, naked with your fingers buried in your cunt. Your breathy sigh when you spotted him was his undoing and he grew achingly hard in his jeans.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" He struggled to make his voice stern as you flushed, quickly removing your fingers.

"I just wanted to be ready for you," You whispered, "I don't want to wait anymore."

He smirked, and approached the bed, setting the belt on the edge of the mattress before he started removing his own clothes. "Kneel right here," He gestured to the bit of mattress in front of him, "and face the other way."

You nodded, and he could see you easily slipping into the submissive side of you that you only let him see. You moved to where he wanted you, and when he was done undressing, he grabbed the belt again.

He leaned forward, placing his chin on your shoulder as his tone softened, "You remember your safe word right?" You nodded, mumbling the chosen word in confirmation and he smiled, placing a kiss on your shoulder, "Good. Are you okay with this? Or do you not want that tonight?"

"I want it," You breathed, a shiver raking over your body as he kissed your neck.

He nodded into your shoulder before pulling back, "Give me your hands."

You instantly followed his instruction, putting your hands behind your back, and he looped his belt around your wrists, fastening them together. "Bend over, darlin," He ordered, pushing his hand on between your shoulder blades. He grabbed your shoulder to help you bend over before angling your hips higher, presenting you before him.

His hands wrapped over your ass, squeezing and spreading them apart.

"Fuck," He muttered, probing your entrance with a thumb, "You're dripping." You moaned into the comforter as he pushed a thumb in, "I can't wait to feel you around me again."

You moaned his name again, begging him to fuck you, but he shook his head.

"Not yet," He pressed his thumb further in as he rubbed your cheek with his other hand, "You touched yourself without my permission." He heard your gasp as he pulled his hand back, "Good girls don't do that."

The smack that rang through the air as his hand collided with your skin was drowned out by the loud moan that you voiced. He waited for you to remember the rules of this little game you played and it didn't take long for pride to swell in his chest as you angled your head out of the blanket.

"One," You whined, trying to push back against his thumb that was still in your cunt.

"There you go," He muttered, raising his hand, "Let me hear you make that sound again," and bringing it down again and again as you kept count, your moans turning to shrieks then wails as you reached five.

He gently laid his hand on the red skin, rubbing away the sting as he praised you, leaning down and kissing the tender area before tugging your legs off the bed. He kneeled behind you, giving you only one warning, "Don't come until I say you can," before removing his thumb and replacing it with his tongue.

"Oh fuck," You cried, "James!" Your legs shook as your toes tried to push against the ground to raise your hips. His hand pulled your legs apart, keeping your feet from touching the floor as he moaned into you, the vibration tearing another cry from your throat.

He knew you wouldn't last long like this, but god he just couldn't get over you. He wanted to devour you whole and this was the closest he could get.

When your cries turned incoherent and your legs started shaking, he removed his tongue, gently setting your legs down and standing behind you. He leaned over you, resting his cock between over your ass and he kissed down your spine, letting you calm for a moment before undoing the belt and helping you turn over.

He wiped the tears from your cheeks, placing gentle kisses along the trails. "You did so good." You hummed, your lids heavy but your eyes alert as you watched him. He lifted your legs, pushing your knees to chest, "I think you deserve a reward," Your eyes lit up, "What do you think?"

He chuckled at your frantic nod, "Please, James," you begged, "Please fuck me. I've missed you so much."

His heart squeezed, "I know," He lined himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing in as your jaw dropped open, "I've missed you too."

His own breathing became tight as your cunt gripped him, pulling him in, eager to be filled by him again.

"Fuck, I love the way you feel around me," he ground out, slowly pulling out and pushing back in, setting a slow rhythm. "You're always so warm, so perfect."

His hands moved your legs to the side, holding them open as he sped up, driving into you. He wrapped one of your legs around his waist, letting go so he could reach up and gently grab your neck. One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, tightening with his own, letting him know how tight to squeeze, making your eyes roll back as you gasped.

"Oh fuck," You whined, forcing your eyes open to look at him. "Bucky please, I'm so close, so close, please."

He opened his hand, wrapping it around the back of your neck and pulling you up. Your hands shot out to grip his shoulders as he placed his forehead against yours, his pace growing brutal.

"Hold on," He told you, "Almost, almost."

He felt the familiar tightening in himself as he watched you do your best to stave off your own release, waiting for him.

"Oh, good girl," he panted, his brows pinching, "good fucking girl, just a little bit more. You're gonna come with me, yeah?"

You nodded, words gone from your brain as your moans grew higher in pitch.

"That's a good girl," He praised, the sensation growing stronger and stronger until he knew the edge was right there. "Come for me baby," He all but begged, "Come on my cock, soak it , come on."

He rambled as you tightened around him, squeezing his cock until he was falling over that edge with you, pleasure blinding behind his eyes as they closed. "Fuck fuck fuck," He dropped your other leg, catching himself as he fell over you, his breathing short as every other thought vanished from his brain.

All he could focus on was the feeling of you wrapped around him, your fingers in a death grip on his shoulders as your cries filled his ears.

"There you go, there you go," He muttered into your neck as you came down from your high. "I love you so much, I love you." An airy laugh broke from your chest.

"I love you," You whispered, pressing your lips against his shoulder.

Once you both came down from your high, he cleaned you up before joining you in bed, wrapping you into his chest. He would never forget how he'd almost lost this - lost you.

As you drifted to sleep against him, a smile on your lips, he vowed to himself and to the silence of the house that he'd never fuck it up again. Never again.

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yourmidnightlover · 7 months ago

Text

the story

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

w/c: 3.5k+

summary: the weeks following bucky ordering that steve be your bodyguard, followed by an insightful night at a gala with your beloved husband.

warnings: mention of the incident with john (groping), slight threats of violence, mention of fear, lip on lip action (the upstairs ones), if i've missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: hiii! the third installment of my forever? series! i didn't even intend for this to be more than one part, but you guys have inspired me to write more for it! my writing schedule is a bit off since i recently started a new job, but i'll try to be a bit consistent with it. i hope you guys enjoy this next part, more to come!

part 2 -> control

the first few weeks with steve as a bodyguard wasn’t too bad. he was actually kinda funny in a grandpa kinda way, and he was an amazing listener. you had bounced a few ideas for your book off of him and he seemed to be very intrigued by some of the plot points you had planned. he even promised to be one of the first customers, right behind bucky (which you may have rolled your eyes at), of course, as long as he was promised a signed copy.

but, at the two month mark you began to miss your independence. of course, the chef bucky had hired was amazing and had years of experience in italian cuisine, but sometimes a girl just wanted some greasy smash burger to chow down on. most nights you ate alone with steve until bucky walked through the front door.

he always seemed beaten down and tired, as though work was more straining than usual. he would shrug his jacket off, place it on the hook by the door, then his shoes on the rack, and walk upstairs to shower before coming downstairs to eat as you and steve were finishing your plates. you tried your best to start conversation, to be the best company you could but eventually the silence always grew awkward and steve would usher you to go upstairs to your room with a pressed smile.

after two months of not really needing to show you off i any way, there was an important gala for him to attend. of course, that means that you were to be his beloved arm candy for the night.

“buck sent me the address for a local boutique that he thinks would be right up your alley,” steve read from his phone as you took a stroll in the garden that was full of beautiful colors. “the appointment is at 3:45, so we have plenty of time to get ready and head there too. oh and he says you should get something in that one shade of green… i’m assuming you know what that is?” his brows raise in confusion, as your mirror his in a stunned expression.

“surprisingly, i do know what he means for once.” about six weeks before the wedding, you had spent an all nighter with him amidst all of the chaotic planning.

“accent colors are super important! right now, all we have is an off white color, and while it’s a good color, i don’t want my wedding to wash everyone out that much,” you shoved his side as you sprawled your binders out on the coffee table.

“i say… green,” he says after pondering for a minute.

“green… like tree green?” you chuckled at the notion.

“i mean the green that’s light yet earthy, not too dark but not scream-in-your-face bright. it’s beautiful. plus, i think you’d look stunning in it,” he shrugs casually as if he hadn’t described a mundane color in such an alluring way.

“so a sage green?”

“maybe more on the jade green side,” he tried to hide a smile as his thumb began to mindly trace nonsense on your thigh.

there was such elegance in the way he described the simple color, as if saying light green wouldn’t have sufficed. clearly, there was a significance to the mundane shade that he felt the need to recommend it.

but you knew not to ask anything further to pry, doubting his readiness to comply so easily so early in your relationship. while it was during the happiest days of your relationship, you still knew he held you at arms length.

at the appointment, you had found several dresses in the perfect color, but only one stood out to you after trying them on. steve was also a good guide in ensuring you were choosing the right one, although you’re sure he would just say every dress looked good regardless.

growing up, you’d read about a love that was so encapsulating that one would rather face death than be without their lover. you’d yearned for that kind of love. the kind of love that was consuming and irreversible. the kind of love where your partner wouldn’t love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them.

and now you were married to a man who didn’t seem to feel an ounce of that towards you. sure, the months leading up to your wedding made it seem otherwise. it made you hopeful that he could maybe grow to love you, as you could grow to love him.

because truthfully, it was hard to see many flaws in the man, other than those that were rumored in the tabloids. you’d read or heard of his anger issues and his lack of patience but abundance of irritability. yet all you’d observed is his laughter, his diligence and compassion.

it was definitely confusing to want to believe these two contradicting tales of composure, but ultimately seeing is believing. you’d decided to believe whatever he showed you, what was right in front of his face rather than believe whatever was whispered in your ear. besides, if something was worth believing it should be said with their full chest rather than in such a low tone.

“almost ready?” bucky’s low voice rang through the door as you were doing finishing touches on your hair, making sure you looked as presentable as possible.

“i just have to put the dress on, and i’ll be ready to go!” you replied, unzipping the bag that the dress came in, even though you suggested that doing so was overkill.

“let me know if you need any help.” you heard a thud from the other side that suggested that he was leaning against the door, waiting to hear if you did happen to need any assistance.

you replied in silence, just stepping into the dress and lifting the straps over your shoulders. it was such a beautifully made gown, truly. it hugged you in the most flattering places, accentuating just the right amount without flaunting too much. the material felt like a warm hug from a lifelong friend, you almost never wanted to take it off.

the only downside was the damn zipper. it was a bit rough to pull over your hips alone, but once you reached your mid back it seemed to reach a snagging stop. you twisted your arms every way possible, trying to avoid the totally cliche scene of calling him in to zip you up.

alas, the universe had other plans for you. although, how much could you complain when that would mean his rough, yet gentle hands would be against your skin…

“...bucky?” your voice meekly called out, trying to interrupt your own thoughts from spiralling down the path you wanted them to so bad.

“yea?” his voice piped up, seeming to jump an octave or two in the process. maybe you jst startled him.

“could you maybe help me zip this thing up?” you became quiet before the twisting of your doorknob broke the silence. “my arms can’t quite contort the way they need to in order to zip this all the way…” you refused to meet his eyes as he trailed inside the room.

the first sign of his presence was his hands grasping your shoulders, lightly tracing down your arms. then he leaned down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, more affectionate than he’d been the entire duration of your marriage without it being prompted.

“you look beautiful,” he pressed another kiss to your other shoulder before letting his hands fall to a respectable place on your waist, stepping back to seemingly find where the zipper got stuck. “but what’s new, right?”

you chuckled at the compliment.

“what’ve you been doing recently?” you asked meekly. “i haven’t seen you much at all since steve started his new gig as my babysitter.”

he sighed, stopping his antics to clarify what he felt he needed to. “he’s not a babysitter. he’s my best friend, and the only person i trust to look after the woman that i-the woman that i married, okay?” you felt his deep breathing on your neck before he continued, “i don’t know where john is yet. john is notorious for taking whatever he thinks is his and that night he made it very clear what he believed.” he turned you around to face him, the dress’ zipper be damned. “if anything happens to you… just the thought keeps me up at night. i need you to understand,” his voice was desperate, pleading almost.

you understood what he was saying. at least, you were pretty sure you did. men in positions of power like bucky typically saw the people around them as pawns. part of you thinks that he’s saying all of this as the controlling, possessive boss man bucky. and that’s the large part of you. but the small part of you, the part of you that still believes in that fairytale love you used to read about, believes that maybe he’s saying all of this because he does feel something for you… something real.

but that part of you is like… 15 percent. maybe 20…

“i understand,” you nodded, meeting his eyes and seeing desperation, fear. seeing fear radiating from a man that projects a version of himself that’s fearless is a scary thing.

“good,” he nodded, his eye contact faltering to the dress that clung to your body. “you look indescribable, i’m a lucky man to call you mine.” once again, he grasped your shoulders to turn you around.

this time, he promptly found the zipper, his metal hand tracing nonsensical patterns on your shoulder as he zipped the dress with his flesh one.

“all done,” he pressed a lingering kiss to your right shoulder. “my beautiful bride.” you wanted to believe him.

“thank you,” you took a deep breath as you turned to face him. “so, tonight… what should i be expecting?” “well, there are a few people i’ll introduce you to, and a few i have to talk to. but i’ll be with you the whole time,” he pressed his hands into his pockets. “i scheduled a car to take us, and we have about 10 minutes before it should get here.”

“so we’ll be playing the roles of loving wife and doting husband?” you nudged his shoulder before you went to grab your shoes.

“playing? this is all real, sweetheart,” he took the shoes from your hands, promptly dropping to his knees.

“what are you-”

“i’m putting your shoes on, my love.” you chuckled before he guided your hand to his shoulder. “gonna want to hold on.” he picked up one of your legs by your calf, grabbing the correct shoe before slowly placing your foot inside and doing the same for your other shoe.

meanwhile, you were stuck staring down at him like a lovesick idiot. this behemoth of a man was beneath you treating you like a princess by putting your heels on for you. what the hell kind of alternate universe have you entered and how can you never leave?

“well, aren’t you a romantic?” you cleared your throat as he remained on his knees, a sight you could get used to.

“don’t let the news spread around town,” he chuckled as he let your remaining foot hit the ground but not without pressing a kiss to your ankle. “i can’t have others knowing how enamored i am by you, can we?” “enamored?” you chuckled out. “what a word,” you shook your head as you helped him to his feet.

“the perfect word.” he trailed his hand to a loose strand of hair, twirling it around his flesh fingers before he sighed, “the car should be here soon. we should head downstairs for it.”

it was a 45 minute ride there. you sat in a respectable silence, this time it wasn’t as awkward as it has been in the past. upon arrival, the door was swiftly opened for you, bucky getting out first and then offering his hand to help you step out. the first thirty minutes of the gala went very similarly. he would introduce you to a new face or say ‘hello’ to a familiar one, wrap his arm snugly around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and move on to the next person.

for a bunch of folks in banking and finance, everything seemed very high stakes. there seemed to be walls up all around you, from each man and woman you said a brief hello to or were meeting for the first time. everyone had decided to adorn a mask for the night, or maybe the mask was a semi-permanent fixture. maybe they’d worn the mask for so long they forgot how to function without one. you hoped you wouldn’t face the same fate.

to be doomed to fake face for so long that you no longer remember what was once real. you wanted something real, even if what you and bucky had was technically fake when you were in public. something about what happened behind closed doors when nobody was around gave you the illusion that part of it was real.

“have i told you how ravishing you look tonight?” bucky held you close as you swayed to the soft melody. his metal hand was clutching your waist, his flesh hand holding your own.

“i think in different words, yes,” you both began to laugh at his flattery. “you don’t have to keep doing that, y’know? the compliments and everything… i think people get the idea that this is real by now.”

“you don’t get it, do you?” he shook his head before he moved his vibranium hand to your chin, nudging it up for you to meet his eyes.

“get what?”

“buck,” steve’s voice interrupted your dance, but that didn’t stop bucky from pulling you taut to his side.

steve leaned in to whisper in his ear, but you were able to tell by his stone cold expression that whatever message that was being relayed to him wasn’t as delightful as the desserts from tonight.

“when?” you barely registered bucky’s low voice over the music.

steve went back to whispering in his ear and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you wanted to speak up, “what’s going on?”

bucky looked down to you, and when you looked into his eyes, what you saw was very similar to your earlier conversation with him. this time, however, there seemed to be anger buried beneath the stoic traces of fear. that’s when it clicked.

“did they find him?” his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“you told her about-”

“i told her what she deserves to know,” bucky interrupted steve’s accusatory tone. “you don’t get to question me or the decisions i make, especially not when those decisions are in regards to my wife.”

you weren’t sure if bucky was defending you or himself with the way he jumped on steve’s gears.

“okay, got it,” steve rse his hands in defense before he nodded.

“what steve was telling me was in regards to him, yes,” bucky clarified. “but it’s nothing important for you to need to know. you don’t have to worry about it, my love,” he let his flesh hand play with that same strand of hair as earlier as he looked down at you like his prized possession.

oh yea, you almost forgot. that’s what you are to him. his trophy wife, as much as you hate that phrase.

“when can we go home?” a shiver ran down your spine. what would john even do if he did get his hands on you? was he actually as bad as bucky made him seem, or was he worse? you gripped bucky’s arm tighter as thoughts raced through your brain.

“hey,” he turned to face you again, his eyes no longer reflecting anger or fear but tenderness. “if you want to leave, we’ll leave. steve can get the car,” he turned briefly to steve who nodded before walking off, “we can talk on the way home. i can tell how many questions are running through that pretty head of yours right now. but i can assure you,” he cupped your face in his hands, and the contrast between the cold metal and the warm flesh was oddly grounding, “as long as your with me, or steve for that matter, you won’t have anything to worry about. i would do anything it takes to keep you safe.”

you nodded, pressing your lips together in a fine line, maybe a bit of doubt running in your head at the lengths he would go to in order to protect you. would he really go to the lengths necessary? would his hand be forced to do that?

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i was scared right now?” you couldn’t meet his eyes as you admitted it.

“it’s not bad at all. in fact, i understand. i just hope that you know that this is why steve is watching out for you now,” he dropped his hands to your shoulders, down your arms to hold your hands.

“will you-would you be up for staying with me tonight?” you popped the question, almost scared of his answer. “like… like you did that night? i don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

“you don’t have to explain,” he smiled. “of course i’ll stay with you.”

the ride home was similar to the ride there, but this time with your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you. you’re sure he thought you were asleep when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. it also wasn’t beneath you to say you liked when he did it…

so much so that you apparently did fall sleep. when you woke up, it was wrapped in strong arms. you strained your neck to look at the clock beside your bed, the one that read 2:35 am. turning in bed to look at bucky, you realized you’d never seen him so peaceful. his hair had grown out a bit long, evident by the way it laid across his forehead.

when you moved the few locks of hair from his forehead, he began to stir awake.

“shhh,” you hummed softly. “it’s just me. sorry i woke you.”

“don’t be sorry,” his raspy voice was alluring this early in the morning, or was it late? “i don’t think i’ve slept this good since… well, since that night.”

“are you a secret cuddler, mr. barnes?” you smiled as he pulled you in a smidge tighter as he replied.

“and what if i am?” “there are no complaints coming from me,” he pressed yet another kiss to yourforehead, then your cheek, your other cheek, and then you pulled back to look in his eyes again.

the only light that was peaking through was from the hallway underneath the door, but that didn’t stop you from being able to see the bright smile decorating his face, a rare sight to see.

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i really wanted to kiss you right now?” his thumb trailed across your bottom lip, gently pulling it down and watching it bounce back into place.

“it’s not bad at all,” you let your eyes find his lips before looking into his eyes once more.

he made the first move, taking his flesh hand and cupping your face before he softly met your lips with his. every other kiss you’d had with him had been for show, cameras or people around to witness and aww at the romantic antics of the newlyweds. this one wasn’t for show. this was purely authentic. gentle, soft, delicate. for a man like bucky, you figured he wasn’t like this very often. this was a side of him not many other people got the privilege of witnessing.

he was precise in his movements, every swipe of his tongue and every placement his hand made was deliberate, yet he was so tender. the soft grasp of your hair, the easy glide of his hand that began to hold your waist. it was all so consuming, in the best way possible. in the way that you wanted to drown in his presence.

when you sweeped one of your legs over his, now perched on his lap, you felt him smile against your lips.

“you’re astounding,” he breathed into you. “breathtaking,” he rearranged his hips, accidentally brushing his hardon against your center. “shit.”

“sorry,” you smiled against him as you pulled back, resting your forehead against his.

“nothin’ to apologize for,” he shook his head with a laugh. “i mean, you are my wife an’ all.”

“i know, but,” taking a deep breath, you tried to figure out how to word what you wanted to say to him. you came up with nothing. “i don’ know. it’s different. we haven’t necessarily been the most affectionate since our wedding.”

“i didn’t think you wanted anything more,” his face shone with disbelief. “i didn’t want you to think you were forced to be ‘affectionate’ with me. you didn’t really want to marry me in the first place. i realize that.”

were you not this puppet in his master show? some play thing for him to own and display whenever he pleased? had every story you’d heard about him been nothing but that… just stories? could this story of you and him have a happy ending?

tags:

@blackbirdwitch22

@onceithough

@learisa

@mrsnikstan

@cjand10

@mrs-bucky-barnes-73

@armystay89

@adesum

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@loki-laufeyson68

if you'd like to be added to the tag list, please just leave a comment or message me!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes smut #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky au #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader

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luveline · 6 months ago

Note

Hi Jade, Ive been waiting to send in a kbd request! What about if it’s one of the girls’ first day back to school and they go back to school shopping? Xxx

KBD —back to school shopping is fraught with distraction.

Steve reads the school list three or four times with a frown. “Hey, Ave?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s a glue spreader?”

“You spread glue with it.”

“What’s wrong with a stick of Elmer’s?”

Avery tips her head back. She’s crouched on the floor looking at pencil cases slowly, and Steve’s question is interrupting her serious task. “Dad, you can’t make papier mache with a glue stick. It’s not wet.”

“Oh, gotcha.” Still, Steve doesn’t know what a glue spreader is nor what it looks like, putting him at the beginning of the conversation. “Alright, come on, trooper. Pick a case.”

He robbed her of some choices —he had to get Ticonderoga pencils and Bic pens, as per her schools specification— but didn’t deny her any extras. She has erasers shaped like cows, extra pencils with flowers around them, and a pink ruler. What she needs a ruler for, Steve doesn’t know.

“I can’t pick.”

“What are you thinking of?”

Avery shows two options. The first is rainbow with a teddy bear texture, and the second is PVC plastic with daisies. He checks the prices.

“Why don’t you get both? You can put your crayons in the daisy one.”

“Really?” she asks with a smile.

“Really.” He hopes he isn’t setting a precedent. “Come on, I gotta size you up, you know it takes ages the first time.”

Avery drops the pencil cases over the side of the grocery kart and offers her hand. It’s a big kart to steer one handed, but needs must. They slide by the clothes section and there you are, Wren strapped to your chest in the carrier, Beth standing on a sizing stool as you compare cardigans.

(Lovely Dove lays spoiled and preened in her Aunt Robin’s house. She will wail when they pick her up, but she’s having a great time.)

“That’s cute,” Steve says.

“Girl or the cardigan?”

“Both!” Steve says, moseying over to check over the smallest baby. “She’s sleeping?” he asks, reaching out to stroke her short hair.

“Mm-hm.”

“Dad,” Beth says, smiling, “should I have blue or green?”

The cardigans you’re deciding between are a soft baby blue and a sage green. He likes both colours, but he thinks the blue looks best. “What about that blue one, sweetheart? It’s nice and bright.”

“I got her some dresses. Can you look if they’re, like, fine? You know what tends to fall apart in the washer,” you say.

Steve could kiss your cheek, but he’s trying to be less ‘smuthocating’ as Robin puts it. It’s really not his fault that you get prettier every day. That’s your doing.

He looks through the dresses, can’t wait to see Beth in all of them, and he sort of knows that the last one you’ve chosen together won’t get worn because of the tighter neckline, but he doesn’t bring it up. What’s the point? It’s seven dollars, and Beth seemingly likes it, and he’s not interested in knocking your confidence. You’re making great choices —you’re a great mom, even if you don’t always feel that way.

“You want me to have her for a bit?” he asks, gesturing to the baby.

“It’s okay. She’s not heavy. We might as well stick together, anyways,” you say, pressing yourself into his side. “What are we thinking about this year, Avery? More pants to grow out of?”

“Of course.”

You laugh at her and Steve turns his head to look at you solely. He traces the line of your nose, your pinked lips, lip gloss still tacky. He can’t remember anymore what he fell in love with first about you, but your laugh has to be at the top of the list, the way it changes your entire face, the way it echoes in his head long after you’ve closed your mouth.

“Steve?” you ask, confused.

He saves himself with a pretend eyelash on your cheek.

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woahrarepairsagemare · 3 months ago

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nightmare do something the fetus keeps on kicking me for yuri

#steve saga #the steve saga #favremysabre #favremysabreart #steve saga origins #green steve #nightmare steve #rp blog #sagemare #I NEED YURI IM THE FETUS INSIDE SAGE WHERE IS MY YURI

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ladykailitha · 1 month ago

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Spellbound Part 4

Normally I would go back and forth between the two stories, but this one had more chapters backlogged, so it gets to go again.

Just a reminder, starting next week, I'll be taking a break from posting. I'm recovering from all the crazy writing I did this month. 12 ficlets, 1 multi-chaptered Christmas story, and a shorter one-shot of one of the ficlets. All total roughly 30k words in a month. So... yeah. I'm taking a well deserved break.

In this we have Dustin and Mike being teenagers, Robin spots a rogue Chrissy, and Steve has to deal with a very angry brownie (fae, not food).

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

A curly haired boy came bursting through the front door and Steve glared at him. “Dustin, how many times do I have to tell you to not just barge in?””

Dustin skidded to a stop and looked up at Steve like he didn’t know his ass from his elbow.

“Bav lets me,” he said smugly crossing his arms and grinning with that stupid gap-tooth grin of his.

Steve put his hands on his hip and sighed. He looked up at the roof, pursing his lips as he fought back the angry response. “Bav is not the only being with thoughts and feelings and while she ‘lets’ you it doesn’t mean you should. Because I sometimes work on dangerous things and if you come barging in, you might get hurt.”

Dustin scoffed. “Like she would let me in if you were doing something dangerous or whatever.”

The walls seemed annoyingly smug and tinted a shimmering grey-green.

“If these walls could talk,” Dustin continued with a smirk, “she would be agreeing with me.”

Steve pinched the the bridge of his nose and sighed. The truth was, he didn’t want Dustin bursting in because he was trying to find a ‘don’t hate me’ spell or charm to get Eddie to ease up off him a bit. But while there were friendship charms and love potions, neither really fit what he was looking for.

“What did you need?” he asked instead. “Or are you here to harass me?”

Dustin put his hands over his heart. “Ah! I’m offended that you think the only two reasons I would come visit are harassing you or wanting something from you.”

“There is another reason you come over?” Steve asked with a huff. He walked over to the bookshelf and began skimming the titles. He pulled out a large blue tome and flipped to a specific page as Dustin watched with suspicion. “How quickly do you think I could brew a truth potion and slip it in your tea?”

Dustin held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. All right. Sheesh. I wanted to beat Mike to the deliveries today because Mr. Jenner is making his apple cider and he always pours a glass for the one who delivers your asthma medicine.”

Steve blinked at him for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. “Mike beat you by twenty minutes, man. In fact he should be back here in about five minutes.”

“Nooooo...” Dustin wailed, “that’s so not fair!”

The walls drooped and turned a pale blue. Steve shook his head. “It’s good thing I love you both,” he huffed stomping over to the icebox.

He pulled out an earthenware jug and took down two glasses. He filled both of them with a cool amber liquid and handed one glass to Dustin and then poured the other glass out the window and on to the foundation.

Dustin looked down at the cup and took a cautious sip and then a more enthusiastic gulp. “When did you get this?” He shook his head. “Wait before you answer that, did you just pour out a perfectly good cup of Mr. Jenner’s cider out onto the ground?”

Steve stroked the door frame to the back garden. “Sure, Bav deserves some too.”

The house seemed to get a little bit bigger as the walls turned a pretty, happy dusky pink.

Dustin blinked a moment before he finished the rest of his cider. “Seriously, though. I thought Mr. Jenner doesn’t make the cider until the afternoon.”

“The perks of being the town witch,” Steve said sagely. “People are very superstitious and I’ll often get the first wool or the first bag of flour. In this case, the first jug of cider.”

Dustin looked down at his empty cup and then up at Steve. “That’s actually kinda badass, you know?”

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I was about to make lunch if you would like to stay. Mike will be joining us...just...about...now.”

There was a knock on the door and Dustin went to go answer it. Sure enough on the other side of the door was Mike Wheeler.

Dustin looked back at Steve in shock. “How did you know it was Mike? Did Bav tell you? Can you see through walls?”

Mike just shoulder past him to get into the house, greeting Bav briefly before sitting down at the tea table.

“None of the above,” Steve said placing the cold meat sandwiches on the table. He pointed to the window. “I know how long each of you take on your runs and when I looked out the window, he had just passed in front. No sit down and eat your sandwich.”

Dustin grumbled but did as he was told. He took a big bite and hummed happily around his bite of food. “You make the best sandwiches, Steve.”

Mike nodded. “Thanks for the food. I just get so hungry these days and my mom keeps threatening to rehome me because I eat so much.”

Steve chuckled and sat down with his own plate of food. It was actually a normal amount because he hadn’t used magic today. “I remember what that was like, I’m not much older than you two, so I don’t mind sharing a meal or two to take the burden off your parents a little.”

“I think that’s why Ma doesn’t mind me hanging out over here,” Dustin said around a bite. “She knows you’ll take care of me.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, taking a bite of his food. Claudia Henderson was notoriously protective of her son. She wouldn’t trust the Pope with Dustin and she was Catholic. But somehow, someway she trusted Steve to take care of her Dusty.

He sent them off with full stomachs and cakes for their moms. They didn’t need to know that the cakes, which he was with absolute certainty never actually made it home, were just little charms of be nice to your mom magic. Karen Wheeler and Claudia Henderson deserved a day of their sons being so sweet to them.

Which was the real reason their moms were okay with Steve. Because they were always so nice when they came home from spending time with him. Or on the off chance the cakes did make it home, they had a nice cake to eat and were nicer to their families afterwards. All in all, win/win for everyone.

Robin chose that moment to come home. “I’m in love with your house, Steve. She made the journey home take a little bit longer so I could avoid the buttheads.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, she’s great like that.”

“So guess who I saw coming out of the Munsons’ house on the way home?” she said, putting away the groceries she had into town for.

Steve paused his clearing of the lunch mess and straightened up. “No...really?”

Robin pursed her lips and nodded. “Apparently Chrissy Cunningham is branching out since her dramatic break up with Jason Carver.”

Steve finished the dishes with a sigh. “It’s no surprise that his confrontation with Eddie and Bav was public knowledge by breakfast the next day, but even I think visiting another man so soon after your ex went insane and tried to break into someone’s house is little reckless, honestly.”

Robin winced. “Ooh, yeah. I didn’t even think about the crazy ex. Yeah. Ooh. Maybe she was trying to come here and, I don’t know, apologize?”

“I don’t put the ‘no return’ spell on the love charms,” Steve said, drying his hands. “I like it when they find their truelove and they come back all happy and smiles. If she was looking for me, she missed the mark a second time.”

Robin spun around. “Wait is that why?” Steve nodded. “Are there other charms you don’t put your ‘no return’ spell on? Or is it just that one?”

Steve just shrugged. “My medicines, I guess. That’s where I make the most money or get the best trades. But as for the other things, I saw what happens when you don’t set a boundary with people asking for charms. They’ll start asking for charms for everything. They’ll want to be cured of every ill, want everything handed to them, so I created the spell myself. It’s unique in all the world.”

“I didn’t know that,” Robin said softly. “About...well any of that I guess. You really don’t talk about your past. Of your life before Hawkins.”

Steve sat down at the table and placed his hands palm down on it. “Look, I don’t talk about it because for the large part, other than a couple of years apprenticing in her shop in the city, I grew up in a town of witches.”

Robin’s eyes went wide and she sat down next to him. “So you can’t talk about it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know if I would say can’t talk about. But it’s hard sometimes when I say something and everyone stares at me blankly, like I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“And with each look and with each comment about how weird you are,” she said softly, taking his hand, “the less you want to bring it up. I’m sorry, Steve.”

“And with there being trouble in town with the whole Chrissy situation...” He sighed. “I’m think starting to wonder if Bav sensed something about her and tried to keep her away.”

The house seemed to shrink on itself a little and the walls turned a light grey.

Steve looked up at the ceiling and cooed, “I’m not blaming you, Bav, I’m blaming myself for not taking in everyone’s advice and giving it to her. Merlin and Circe didn’t like her either. Especially Merlin.”

Robin nodded. “As my familiar I should I have listened to him, too. He’s been giving me the cold shoulder ever since she showed up, as well. It’s a whole mess.”

Just then Circe came bursting through the window cawing angrily.

Steve buried his head in his hands. “Fucking hell! As if this day couldn’t get any worse.” He sighed heavily. “Tell Dustin to keep his shirt on and I’ll be right there.”

Robin sighed dramatically, throwing her head back. “Who would have thought that a Roman Catholic would even have a house elf to anger? Scratch that, who would have thought that house elves even existed?!”

Steve stopped half way to rising. “Like everyone knows that house elves exist. We don’t have any because Bav thinks they’re pests, but like even my dad knew better than to insult Mom’s house elf. Her name was Nora and best seamstress I’ve ever met.”

Robin stared at him blankly. “You want to run that past me again?”

Steve just rolled his eyes and got out a cup of milk and a little bowl of sugar, setting them carefully in a basket. Then he added honey, walnuts, and mint. He wanted to cover all his bases he didn’t know what this elf favored and wanted to make sure they weren’t offended further.

Then he went over to the bookshelf and after skimming the titles for a moment, he pulled out a small green book. He handed it to her. “Read that while I’m gone. The whole thing is useful, but I’d start with page eighty-six. The chapter on house elves.”

Then before Robin could even squawk a protest, Steve was out the door following Circe at speed, running to keep up.

He skidded to a stop in front of the Hendersons’ door to find that Dustin and Walter had been locked out of the house while screams could be heard from inside.

It didn’t sounded pained, it sounded indignant.

“Stand aside please,” Steve said sternly. Dustin and Walter looked back at Steve, thinking he meant them, but suddenly the screaming inside stopped and the door opened. “Thank you.” He turned back to the Henderson men. “Please wait here.”

But before either one of them could protest, Steve had already walked into the house and closed it tightly behind him.

He surveyed the damage. Claudia Henderson stood on the kitchen table battling a broom with her rolling pin. It was worse than he feared. He set his load down on the counter and began unpacking his treats.

The broom stopped moving, and then was slowly, cautiously put down. Once Steve had finished unpacking the honey, suddenly there was a little round faced woman about the size of Steve’s palm standing next to his basket with a red flower as a hat and bright clothes.

“What is that?” Claudia hissed, jumping down from the table.

“You’ll excuse her manners, little one,” Steve murmured, “it appears that she’s never heard of house elves before.”

The elf glared Claudia over her shoulder and then turned back to paw over Steve’s prizes.

“I didn’t have any cream,” he continued. “So I hope the milk is fine.”

The elf put her little hand in the milk and then stuck her hand in her mouth. “It’s good milk. You do your mother proud.”

Steve grinned at that. “So I take it you know Nora then?”

“Who’s Nora?” Claudia asked drawing closer to the two of them at the counter.

“Of course I know my own sister!” the little squeaked. “I’m Nona by the way. Please to meet you, Stevie.”

Claudia stopped dead in her tracks as she realized what was going on. She turned on her heel and began rummaging around in her ice box. “Eureka!” she cried.

She brought over a bowl and set down on the counter next to Nona. “I’m sorry little one. I wasn’t raised with knowledge of your people. I’m new to this town and was not aware of its different ways.”

Nona turned around and sniffed at the bowl cautiously. She looked up at Claudia in awe. “Clotted cream!” She put her hand in and pulled out a handful of the cream. She shoved it in her face with a contented hum.

“I didn’t know your family wasn’t from Hawkins,” Steve murmured. But he turned to Nona. “Would you please let the boys in, they must be so worried about Claudia.”

Nona looked up from her feast in wide eyed shock. “Oops!” She snapped her fingers and suddenly both Dustin and Walter spilled out on the ground as the door opened under their weight.

Steve went over and helped them to their feet. “Sorry about Nona, she didn’t know you weren’t familiar with house elves and thought you were actively insulting her.”

Dustin and Walter shared a shocked glance then looked over at the little woman eating their clotted cream.

“This is a house elf,” Steve said as Nona curtsied. “Her name is Nona and she helps out around the house. This has been her home for longer than this particular building has stood here. She will do the laundry or any chores left over the night. All she asks in return is a treat of her choice.”

“Does it have to be clotted cream every time?” Dustin asked as she wiped the mess of cream from her face with her apron.

“No,” Nona said. “But it was nice apology, though. I like honey and milk. So as long as you keep a bowl of of one of the two out, your food will never spoil and I will help out around the house.”

The Hendersons all exchanged glances and then Claudia nodded.

Walter stuck out his finger for her to shake. “Welcome to the family, Nona.”

Part 5

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @wheneverfeasible @micheledawn1975 @gloomysoup @dotdot-wierdlife @tartarusknight

10- @ollyxar @yesdangerpls @two-vampires-kissing @themoonagainstmers @estrellami-1

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #witch au #witch steve harrington

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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Secretive Santa: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (8) Seasons may have changed, but some hearts still need soothed. And what better time than Christmas for some well-intentioned mischief? Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Usual Lakes fare. Established relationship. Theve (?) Soft smut , mild angst, humour, fluff and cunning plans throughout. (w/c 7.3k)

You would never forget the look on Thor’s face as the Fiat had drawn up the loose stone drive to the cottage. The glow of his smile was visible through the windshield at 100 paces.

As he and Rogers had exited the car with a spring in their step, you were starting to think the last two days had been just what everyone had needed.

The air was crisp this morning, winter’s first biting chill stinging your cheeks.

Steve’s face was glossy and fresh with the flushed sheen of recent spa treatments. His forehead shone. He strode towards you with a nod, extending his hand to shake Loki’s with a quiet ‘howdy’ as Thor brought up the rear.

‘Do you really think they slept together?’ you’d gaped to Loki as you’d lain in bed after dinner last night, thoroughly sated with food and sex. Loki had laughed gently, making your chin bounce on his bare chest. ‘There were twelve condoms in the pack I bought to get a rise from Rogers,’ he’d replied. An eyebrow had risen as you stared vacantly. ‘How many times have we had sex, darling?’ Loki had continued.

A smirk had played at the corner of his perfect mouth, still glistening with your arousal. It was burned into your memory. The soft mischief in every line.

You had bit your lip, the look of intense concentration on your face making Loki chuckle again. ‘Full, or just oral?’ you’d replied wilfully. ‘Ten,’ Loki had mouthed, raking a hand through his hair as he arched his back. One of his legs draped over the side of the single bed. ‘There were ten in the box when they left. So either-’ ‘It’s happened, or it’s going to!’ you’d gasped. Loki had shrugged. Maybe, his silence had said - but he was still smiling. Now, you tilted your chin as Thor stood beside Steve.

The captain hooked an arm around the blonde god’s shoulder, the pep of the men’s familiar pleasantries filling the air like birdsong. Thor’s followed suit, giving each other an affectionate pat before breaking apart. “You guys ready to blow off?” Steve asked, gesturing to the Fiat.

Loki’s nose wrinkled. “I humbly petition to sit in the front passenger seat this time.” he muttered, making his suitcase disappear in a flash of green. “We can take turns,” Thor offered. A relevation.

Startled, Loki’s eyebrows rose. You looked between them, smiling as the men nodded agreement in sage trifecta.

Although you’d been lumbered driving for the next seven hours back to the Essex compound, it would be another world than the trip up had been. And besides, none of these particular Earth's Mightiest Heroes could drive stick.

“Let’s go home,” you murmured, meeting Loki’s eyes as his hand slid into yours with a squeeze. “Home,” he smiled.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. The seasons changed again. But thankfully, Loki had not.

Frost adorned trees lining Central Park were visible from the god’s bedroom window. Like cake toppers, you mused as you pulled the curtains behind a sash, dusted with icing sugar. A pair of strong hands slid around your waist, slippers nipping at your heels as he moulded his stomach against your back.

Long fingers tugged against the loose sash of your robe.

“Come back to bed,” he murmured against the muss of your morning hair. His breath was warm in the shell of your ear, the heat of his skin sinking from his bare chest through your gown.

You could feel the bulge in his loose pyjama pants pulse against your ass. “They need me,” you whined, tilting your chin to meet his pleading eyes. He knew you couldn’t resist those eyes. Christmas lights on the tree in the corner lit up the golden veins of his irises. “I need you,” he retorted. The wounded tone of his voice tugged your heartstrings.

You rolled your eyes.

Loki tutted. “Agent?” he warned playfully. Playful, but no less devastating. It made your core flush with ill-timed desire. “We don’t do that anymore.” It had become a mantra. An amber light which snuffed out behaviours that no longer had a place in your relationship. And expectation of equality, you conceded, worked both ways. “Come back to bed,” he husked again, deeper this time.

Loki’s forefinger looped around the sash of your robe, stepping back slowly. Two steps, then three. You followed, falling to his lap as he sat back on the mattress. “It’s cold outside. Rogers will understand.” You scoffed, curling the mess of his hair behind one perfectly formed ear. Whatever happened, it needed to sound believable. Just a normal mission. A normal mission. “It’s not Steve I’m worried about,” you said.

Loki frowned, urging you to continue as his fingers danced dangerously up your leg. They began to massage the curve of your ass beneath the silk. “It’s your brother – he’s been antsy all week. All month, actually. Chewed Scott out the other day for being late – even Steve was embarrassed.” Loki’s hand paused. “Will he be there? On this ‘very important mission’?” he muttered, staring at your breasts with a faraway look in his eyes. “My brother, I mean…” You swallowed, the oath of utter secrecy bubbling behind your teeth, willing itself to be broken.

You managed a half-hearted shrug. Loki’s pinched fingers slid down the opening of your robe, before raising his gaze with a wolfish glint.

“Perhaps Rogers is rubbing off on him,” he quipped, lips stretching in a smirk. You slapped his shoulder lightly, trying to stand before Loki pulled you back in. His lips traced your own, inhaling against your breath. “Or on him,” he finished smugly.

You slapped his shoulder again.

“It’s been ages since the lakes, and neither of them have said a word,” you huffed, standing and shrugging your robe to the floor.

Taking a moment to enjoy the awed slant of Loki’s brows, you turned and made your way to the small selection of clothes you kept in his rooms. “If they were a thing, we’d know by now. They barely speak to each other these days.” You unhooked a combat suit, feeling the weight of Loki’s stare on your naked ass. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you asked innocently, glancing back over your shoulder. The god’s eyes snapped from your rear to your face.

“What?” he coughed. He was hard. “Has Thor said anything to you?” you repeated, trying to hold in a satisfied smile. “About him and Steve?” Loki crossed his legs, trying to dampen the arousal pumping through his veins. “No,” he sniffed. “But he is acting particularly meat-headishness of late. I should speak to him.” “You should-” you said, pulling the suit over your shoulders and sliding the zip upwards. Loki’s crestfallen eyes lingered as your cleavage disappeared from view. “I should-” he muttered absent-mindedly as you drew closer and leant down to give him a kiss. His train of thought dissipated in the air.

You paused, feeling his breath cloud around your mouth. As much as you wanted to stay, this was important. The secrecy that surrounded Steve’s message had made that clear.

Loki kissed you. First soft, then firm. A promise.

And the warmth of it lingered as you made your reluctant way down the Tower elevators and into the crisp New York December day.

You checked the top right corner of the screen nestled in your thick gloves. Nine seventeen. Shit. The dot on the GPS moved up East 50th street. Skies had darkened, clouds threatening snow. Wreaths and lightbulb-adorned foliage hung against shop windows, festive displays catching your eye.

That jacket would look incredible on Loki, you thought fleetingly; before the shade of a skyscraper loomed above. Making a mental note to come back and get it, you paused; taking a moment at the railing. It overlooked the golden statue in Rockefeller Plaza. Even at this time in the morning, skaters made their way around the rink with various displays of aptitude. A man who reminded you very much of Colin Robertson hung stiffly onto the side as his other half skated backwards, encouraging him enthusiastically. You smiled. “Thanks for coming,” a voice murmured over your shoulder.

You clutched your chest. “Steve!” you gasped.

Ever since the lakes, the relationship with your superior had become a lot more familiar. An unexpected bonus. The captain wore a thick hat low on his brow. And sunglasses, of course. A navy blue jacket was zipped up under his chin. He looked stiff, hands jammed in his pockets. He glanced anxiously over his shoulder while you leant against the railing. “You going to tell me what this is about, now?” you said quietly.

Steve nodded curtly, clearing his throat. It fogged the air. “Seems I drew Odinson in the secretive santa and I need your advice.” You arched a brow, ‘secretive santa’ making your lip twitch with laughter which would be entirely inappropriate.

“Go on,” you mustered warily. Steve cleared his throat again, removing his sunglasses. He produced a small microfibre flannel from his pocket, beginning to polish them. “You know him better than I do, see” he mumbled, meeting your sceptical gaze. You titled your head. Steve’s cheeks were pink. And not from cold. Not just from cold, anyway.

“I don’t know about that,” you replied softly. The captain’s eyes narrowed, searching for any hint of ulterior meaning.

“You spent a lot of time together before the cabin,” you explained, seeing his face soften. “- which I appreciate, by the way. We both do.” You squeezed his hand. “I think together we can find the perfect gift – don’t you?” Steve exhaled loudly. It was relief. “Well, I did have one idea I wanted to run by you…” he smiled shyly.

Your eyebrows rose.

In response, Steve nudged his head towards a store on the other side of the plaza. A smile stretched across your face.

“Perfect!” you cried, making Steve cringe. “Keep your voice down,” he hushed, wincing as a passer by jostled his shoulder. “I don’t want that Heimdall character ruining the surprise.” You laughed playfully. “If you’re on his radar then-” you started, before thinking better of it. Thankfully, Steve was too busy putting his sunglasses on and tugging the woolly hat down to notice.

FAO Schwarz was heaving with shoppers. Crowds bustled around elaborate displays of every toy imaginable. Normal-looking businessmen and women clutched large paper bags with boxes slotted in expert precision making their way quickly past you to the entrance. Trying to fit in what they could before work, you reckoned. The superheroes of the everyday. New York’s iconic toy-store was a Christmas wonderland, wreaths adorning pillars and large glittering snowflakes hanging from tall ceilings. Paul McCartney’s chirpy vocals rang from concealed speakers, heralding the season. Steve paused beside one of the perfectly coiffured trees lining the walkway through the store, glancing shiftily over his shoulder. “Maybe you should lose the sunglasses?” you suggested. He nodded reluctantly, slipping them into his pocket. “It’s over here,” he murmured.

He was frowning lightly, concern in those famously blue eyes. His Captain face. If you weren’t acutely aware of the context, you might be forgiven for thinking that this was a super-serious mission.

But, you reminded yourself, for him...maybe it is. You decided not to make light of it.

The two of you slipped around several hordes of shoppers towards a wall at the back of the store. Rows of plush animal faces stared vacantly in immaculate lines. Steve stopped. He folded his arms, spreading his feet in a stoic stance.

“There,” he said firmly, nodding towards a modest circular display. “Oh my god,” you whispered, eyes widening.

Out the corner of your vision, you saw Steve’s chin snap towards you; the feeling of his anxious stare beating into your profile. A grin spread on your lips. “It’s perfect,” you squealed, turning to him. You gripped his shoulders, shaking him lightly. “You’re a genius. He’ll love it.” Steve blushed, looking down. He scuffed his foot on the polished floor. It squeaked. “Golly,” he muttered, smiling bashfully. “You really think?”

You nodded, meaning it with your whole heart. “Perfect.”

Loki pursed his lips. He could hear the neolithic grunting of his brother doing some manner of inane task in the kitchen up ahead. It echoed.

Apparently, Thor had not been called to whatever mission had stolen you from his bed after all.

He rounded the corner, immediately tensing. The God of Thunder stood hunched over a toaster, miniscule in one meaty hand. In the other, he had a knife jammed deep in the contraption, wiggling it around. “You should turn that off at the wall, you know-” Loki drawled. Thor looked up, smiling.

“My breakfast is entrapped, brother. There is no other way.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “I thought you weren’t doing that anymore,” Thor muttered, demeanour hardening. "The rolly-eye-thing."

Loki bristled. “For some things there is no alternate or adequate lexicology to express oneself, brother.” Thor humphed, rattling the knife deeper.

A blackened pop-tart fell to the counter amid a cascade of crumbs. With silent vindication, he raised it in his grasp and shook it in Loki’s direction. A triumphant grin spread across his face as Loki slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “So?” Loki said smoothly, tilting his head. It was a loaded syllable. Thor’s brow scrunched. Loki wasn’t sure if it was the bitterness of his ill-gotten prize or the vagueness of his opening gambit which caused it. “What?” Thor crunched. Flecks of burnt fell with abandon to his scruffy beard and a white muscle vest stretched tight on his chest. It was stained with what looked like mustard, and chocolate - one hoped.

This is not that garment's first dawn, Loki thought. He sighed pointedly. “Look, we’ve been dancing around this for weeks. Your increase in short-temperedness and decrease in both affinity and hygiene has been noted.” The blonde pressed his fingers sarcastically to his chest, eyes wide. “You talk of me?” he exclaimed incredulously before chuckling, shaking his head.

Without warning, Thor released a thundering fart. It tapered to a whining toot before he spoke again. “You must be mistaken brother.” Loki didn't flinch. Not even a millimetre.

“I am not,” was Loki’s curt response. He clasped his hands on the counter-top, now marred with specks of charred pop-tart. They looked like ants. His disapproving eyes rose to meet his brother, now looking shifty. He was chewing, avoiding Loki’s analytical stare.

Thor flicked his hair back. It had a crispness to it. Some kind of resolve settled over his features, and there was a sharp glint in his eye Loki didn’t like.

“Have you told her you love her yet?” his elder brother quipped bitterly. Sarcasm seeped from him like steam. Or maybe that was the lingering stench of flatulence. “Again?” Loki tensed, resisting the bait. “That is none of your concern.”

He straightened, making space as Thor leant on the counter opposite, fist propped beneath his chin. The blonde batted his eyelashes innocently. Loki wanted to punch him. “Oh but it is, brother-” Thor smarmed, lip curling in a smirk that Loki would recognise in a mirror. “I am most concerned about it indeed.”

The two of them sat in silence, unspoken asgardian curses curling the air. “A truth for a truth?” Loki postured coldly, circling his fingertip on the counter. The question hung in the air. An old compromise last involked in their youth, in the days of the cabin-with-no-place.

It had become such a staple of breaking their stubborn stalemates that Frigga had commissioned the Asgardian Crones to weave a token.

‘To solidify the sentiment, for harmony’ she had said.

Millions of silken threads created the finest handkerchief in Asgard, an ombre of green and red which softened in silken waves to the centre; melding to one. Harmony.

On it, hand-stitched in the truest gold were the words. The only words which could provoke amnesty between the heirs. The symbol exchanged between them at times of familial discord. Whoever held it, must forfeit one admission for another or face the consequences.

En sannhet byttet mot en sannhet, A truth exchanged for a truth, Loki mulled as he traced a dark vein of the marbled counter-top.

It was not an accord invoked lightly. The ceremonial handkerchief itself may be lost to places known only to few, but once uttered, the oath must be fulfilled. He followed the winding tendril to the edge before meeting his brother’s eyes. Thor snorted, slapping the hand beneath his chin to the surface. “Fine” he gruffed.

“You and Rogers-” Loki cut in, seizing the moment. He watched his brother’s brow crease, short-lived victory turning to regret. “Is he the cause of the foul mood which has plagued you these past weeks?” Thor shuffled his feet, pushing himself upright against the counter. “I see not business that is of-” he began to parrot, but Loki waved a dismissive hand. “Brother, please-” he snapped sharply. “Even adorned with our lifespans, this banal rhetoric could last us to the gates of Valhalla.” He watched as his brother’s features relented, a quiet sigh rising in his chest. Thor swallowed. “He will not speak of it,” he muttered.

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Of what?” Thor’s jaw set, looking at his brother with exasperation. “Our amorous union, short-lived as it was.” A small smile played at Loki’s lips.

Vindication, he thought. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

He summoned the willpower that had become so familiar from his newly-trained approach to your relationship, reminding himself that vulnerability was to be encouraged, not exploited. Carefully, he re-adjusted himself on the stool. He made sure he looked sympathetic. “I wasn’t sure if-” “Yes, yes…” Thor mumbled dismissively, glancing around the walls. Pink had risen in his cheeks.

“Rogers asked me not to say anything. But methinks it’s all for nought now regardless.”

“So the two of you...at the cottage?” Loki probed.

Thor nodded. “It started as a ruse, a part of the plan should it be required to stay you in the correct location but-” he swallowed.

“When the moment arose, the moment took me...us, and- our kinship, such as it was, had changed somehow. The nights we spent setting things in motion for the two of you, we grew closer. I cannot place it, brother. I just…”

“That sounds familiar,” Loki said softly. Without realising it, he had reached for his brother’s hand.

Thor squeezed it, staring down as he continued. “The love of a male is not unfamiliar to either of us-” Thor said, glancing up briefly. “But to Rogers…” he trailed off. “-It is all unfamiliar.” Loki finished. His brother nodded. “At the spa...we talked about what the future could look like. Many plans were made, but-” Thor swallowed thickly. “-when we returned, things were different?” Loki murmured tentatively.

Thor nodded again.

Loki knew that fear all too well. He would be lying if he said that his heart hadn’t pounded the whole flight home, wondering if a return to reality outside of the bubble created in the cottage would return you to your senses too. The thought of losing you again had been almost too much to bear. “I know not if it is his values. His image. Whether his feelings have changed or whether the intrigue was more of an allure than reality- he has barely spoken two words of warmth since our return. And when he does speak – I find myself behaving most unbefitting my feelings. Pushing him further, like you did.” Tears welled in the blonde’s eyes.

“Or perhaps it is I, brother,” Thor continued, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. It twisted Loki’s heart. His elder brother released a mirthless chuckle of resignation before continuing, fingertip circling on the marble anxiously. “Perhaps it is I.”

In seconds, Loki stood and rounded the counter.

He drew his brother close, feeling the strength of Thor’s grip tentatively curl around his shoulders. The god’s chest heaved, shallow breaths ricocheting against Loki’s neck. He found himself pressing his brother’s head into his hold, trying to steady the silent sobs swallowed with every gulp of air.

Had they ever embraced like this? Loki didn’t think so. Not that he could recall. But, strangely, he found he didn’t care.

“It’s alright, brother” he heard himself murmur, not knowing what else to say.

Thor choked back a shuddering sigh as Loki continued to stroke his hair. He rested his chin on his brother’s head, closing his eyes. “It’s alright.”

A paper bag adorned with toy soldiers rustled by your feet below the table.

Steve had given strict instructions to keep it in your sight while he bought coffee. You peeked inside again, smiling.

Somehow, you’d managed to convince him to while away a little more time before heading back to the Tower, citing Loki’s suspicions. But really, you just wanted to spend time with him.

Ever since the lakes, Steve had softened – which wasn’t a bad thing. In some ways you felt much closer, but in others; from others – he seemed to be pulling away. “Careful, it’s hot” he quipped, nudging the wooden chair out with his foot.

He squeezed to sit at the world’s smallest table that you had commandeered in the corner of the café. You mouthed thanks, pulling the mug over. “Reminds me of the cottage,” you smiled; looking up innocently. Steve’s eyebrows peaked, before he frowned lightly. “I guess,” he muttered. Festive jazz played over the bustle of mid-morning conversation and clinking plates. The milk steamer spluttered endlessly behind the bar. You scooped a blob of cappuccino foam onto your finger, sucking it off. It was now or never. After all, it was Christmas.

“Are you alright, Cap?” you started deferentially, hoping that the softness you felt in your heart shone through. Steve looked up, blue eyes deep in thought.

“Can I trust you, Agent?” he asked warily as his gaze glanced over your shoulder. Your features softened further, tension easing. You reached across the space between you, fingers curling over his forearm. “Steve,” you whispered. “I owe you so much. So much. I care about you, and Loki does too.” Steve’s brow arched sceptically. “He does,” you smiled, squeezing his arm. The smile fell gradually as you studied his face. “You can trust me,” you said quietly. Seriously. The captain nodded, taking a deep breath. “I…” he started.

Your brow twitched, an uneasy feeling spreading under your skin as Steve readjusted his feet beneath the table. His fingernails scratched at the wood, tapping as he glanced out the window and back again. “I…” he pursed his lips, avoiding your eyes. “-fucked up,” he hissed. Your stare widened. “Steve!” you gasped. He looked at you sheepishly. “Apologies,” he muttered. Clearly, your look of abject confusion was enough to spur him on. He leant forwards, urging you to do the same. A woman stood at the next table. Both of you watched her leave. Steve turned back to you, his eyes trained on the coffee cup nestled between his palms. “Our...mutual friend. The blonde,” he said quietly. You squeezed his arm again to signal understanding. “Well...as it turns out, I enjoy his company a bunch.” Steve’s eyelashes fluttered upwards, bashful gaze swimming above pink cheeks. He bit his lip. “A bunch. You see?” “I see,” you replied gently. Steve released a wistful sigh.

He licked his lips, fingers playing with the mug handle. “Things happened at the lakes that I didn’t expect. That I never woulda...that I-” he sighed, hanging his head.

“I told him it was a mistake.” He blew out a puff of air. “What a ninny,” he chided himself under his breath. You tilted your head. It was breaking your heart. “Do you think it was a mistake?” Steve shook his head, sighing again. “No,” said quietly. “But now he won’t talk to me. Not like before– as though he’s realised it was a mistake. He’s done with ol’ chum over here. I can’t blame him. I guess it’s not a big deal for a god and whatnot but for me-” Steve swallowed, words drying up. “Trust me, I know how it feels” you whispered.

Steve’s eyes met yours. They were glassy with tears, darting from your own to the pictures hanging on the wall and back again.

“I fucked up,” he breathed again. His voice trembled on the swear.

“It’s alright,” you cooed sadly as your thumb stroked Steve’s palm. You squeezed again. "It's gonna be alright."

Loki paced back and forth across the rug in his living room.

He’d tried buzzing your apartment four times at thirty minute intervals. Each time, he had been left more enthused than the previous.

His mind was alight with the thrill of the plot.

Through an entirely subtle process of elimination over the past hours, he had deduced that there was only one member of the team you could be with on this auspicious morning. Rogers. And after his conversation with his brother – he needed the intel you had most certainly gathered – whether intentionally or no.

There was more to this ‘mission’ of yours than met the eye, of this he was certain. He was certain, because he had planted the seeds himself.

There was a knock at the door. Loki’s feet skidded back against the rug in his haste to the handle, throwing it wide and bustling you inside.

“-Loki-” you gasped while he glanced to either side of the hallway before spinning you against the wall with a ravishing kiss.

His senses came alive beneath your touch. The bright cool of your skin, the scent of coffee and spiced gingerbread clinging to your hair; an almost imperceptible tacky patch on your cheekbone where some soul had left a passing kiss. Lipbalm. Rogers.

“What have you been up to my secretive elf?” he purred against your parted lips. Your coat hung open, the avengers uniform you had donned this morning for his benefit, he was sure; on half-display.

“I...uh-” Loki smirked as your palms steadied against the wall. You were panting, face flushed from the onslaught of his affections. Fingers raked through your hair as you met his eyes, blinking several times.

“You tied your hair back,” you noted, dazed.

Loki scoffed at the attempt at subterfuge, grabbing your hand.

“Come,” he said as he pulled you towards the sofa. You landed with a soft bounce as the god took centre stage in the living room. He pressed his fingertips together, hands peaked in a triangle. It touched his lips briefly. “Brace thyself, darling” he drawled. Unbuttoning your coat, Loki felt his gaze fall down the black material tight to your arms. It clung to your chest, the zip far too low for any official business. His stare lingered on the curve of your waist, how it taunted and teased him as you shuffled back on the sprawling sofa.

“Consider me braced,” you said pointedly. He cleared his throat. “My brother,” he started, pausing for effect. You stared at him expectantly.

Loki admitted to himself that he was a little disappointed you did not seem more intrigued by the fatted bounty of gossip he was about to spill forth. But he decided to maintain the theatre it deserved regardless. “-is in love with…” he paused again, smirking mischievously- “Rogers.” Your head fell back, landing in the cushions as your hands covered your face. “Oh thank fuck for that!” you gasped, beginning to laugh despite yourself. Loki frowned. This was not the response he had expected.

Between sighs of relief, you peered through your fingers at the bemused god. He was standing with his hands on his hips, the irritation palpable. The foot began to tap.

“Come here,” you placated. Patting the cushion beside you, his face softened; but an eyebrow remained raised.

“I would have thought my most excellent investigations would yield a smidgeon more praise from you my dear,” he said with feigned annoyance as he sat. “Nonetheless, I imagine your response means welcome news?” You nodded. “Steve feels the same. At least – I think he does.” Loki’s face scrunched. “You think? Please. Rogers should be on his hands and knees thanking the norns for my brother’s affections.” It was your turn to frown. “But Steve doesn’t know how Thor feels – your brother’s been palming him off.” Loki smirked.

“Not like that,” you sighed as you fell back again against the cushions. “We have to do something Loki...they’re mad about each other. They both think the other isn’t interested for one reason or another. They just need-” “-a little nudge?” Loki purred.

You met his stare. Those beautiful eyes swirled with the warm glow of the treelights, sparking mischief in golden flecks buried in deepest blue. Shadows cast by candlelight danced in the carve of his cheekbones.

“A little nudge,” you repeated, tilting your head with a knowing smile.

“After all, it would be rude not to return the favour. Don’t you agree?” the god murmured as his fingers danced up your suit.

They fastened around the zip at your chest, pulling slowly down. In seconds, Loki had gracefully shifted and buried his face in your cleavage. Hot kisses worked against the skin, breath warming any hint of chill still lingering in your bones.

Your hands slid past his temples as he made it to your neck, fingers winding in the lengths of his ponytail before pulling it free.

“Minx,” he slurred against the curve.

You could feel the sharp of his teeth against your collarbone as he smiled. Hands sliding over his broad shoulders, you took a moment to appreciate the tight knit of the camel sweater he wore at the meat of his biceps. Camel, he’d insisted. Not beige. And in the heady afterglow of lovemaking amidst a sea of sparkling Christmas lights, a cunning plan began to form.

You made your way to the common room, gift-bag swinging.

The presents that you and Loki had procured for your team-mates sat nestled inside – one for Scott, one for Wanda.

The tradition was a fairly new one, but a highlight of the festive calendar. On Christmas Eve, before outsider guests for Tony’s annual party began to arrive- the Avengers gathered and exchanged all manner of tat and risque shit. You often wondered how much the picture on your phone of Bruce holding up the dinner-plate sized cock ring Tony had made for him would fetch on the open market. But you had decided long ago that it was priceless. “Brother!” you imitated in a deep, accented growl.

Thor spun on the common room sofa, his wary look melting to a wide smile. You ran to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He spun, making you squeal. A whining mash of faint tunefulness emitted from his chest as the god lowered you to the ground. Jingle Bells. “Ah, you pressed the penguin’s nose” he hummed, booping the knitted beakish blob. “He sings,” he explained, pleased with himself. “I can see that,” you said as you made your way to the tree. “But turn around – you can’t see which presents are ours...” Thor obliged, smiling as he busied himself fluffing a garland by the fireplace. "Perhaps we should invite my Penguin friend to the carol concert at Stark's festive jamboree tomorrow," he boomed across the room. You watched him, remembering the feeling of acting normally while tendrils of heartache wrapped around your insides.

"-Certainly, he can hold a tune better than I" Thor continued, chuckling to himself. A pang of sadness mellowed as you turned back to the pile beneath the tree. Scanning, you tried to look for one that could be Steve’s – but none fit the bill. “Okay I’m done,” you said casually as you stood. Thor continued fluffing the garland. You sidled over, trying to act casual. “Have you um...added yours yet?” Thor shook his head regretfully. “Having a little trouble with my assigned giftee” he muttered. His eyes flickered to yours guiltily. “There is something I wish to give them, but I am unsure it would be welcome.” A small smile played on your lips. “Something tells me any gift of yours would be welcome,” you said, watching his bottom lip roll beneath the top with a sceptical grunt. “Is it something I can help with?” you probed, “maybe a second opinion would ease your mind.” “No,” Thor mumbled. He sighed. “I fear this is something I must endeavour alone, sister.” You frowned. How the fuck did Thor manage one of these cunning plans, you wondered as Michael Buble crooned in the background. “I wished to speak to you as it happens,” he murmured. Your lips pursed. The tone of his voice, the tension in his shoulders. Flashing lights interwoven in the fireplace garland illuminated a newly crimson hue to his skin. “Did my brother...mention anything to you of late?” You snorted. “You’ll have to be more specific when it comes to Loki. He never shuts up,” you smiled, feigning ignorance. Thor chuckled. “Indeed,” he said as he picked at a ribbon. “Well then...more specifically about, me.” You shook your head. You hated lying to him, but in this case – it was for the greater good. The god nodded softly, still inspecting the ribbon between his fingers. “Good. Well. That wasn’t what I wished to speak to you about anyway.” You swallowed. Cryptic Thor was never a welcome guest at any gathering. “My brother,” he continued cautiously, eyeing you before moving his fingers to another strand of greenery hanging over the side of the mahogany mantel. “-He intends to declare his love for you this Yuletide.”

Your jaw dropped, neck craning forwards. “Oh,” was all you could manage.

The side of Thor’s mouth twitched in an apologetic smile. “I am aware that your relationship has been, what is the parlance...taken ‘back to basics’ in some respects-” “Yeah,” you mumbled. Suddenly the ribbons decorating the garland looked very interesting. You and he stood in silence, straightening Pepper’s ornamentation.

Thor cleared his throat. “Knowing you the way I do sister,” he said softly, “I thought that forearmed would be forewarned.” “It’s the other way around,” you snipped. "Forewarned is forearmed." Out the corner of your eye, you saw Thor’s face fall. “Sorry,” you added quietly. The god’s hand curled around your shoulder, pulling you to him in a brief sidehug before releasing it.

“It’s just...we agreed not to rush things,” you explained under your breath.

You knew that he knew this, but verbalisation was needed. The cogs of your mind whirled.

“We haven’t moved back in together, we just keep a few things at each others places...go on a lot of dates, we’re working on ourselves, you know? Avoiding the mistakes we made last time. Like...well, like rushing things.” Thor turned towards you, bicep leaning against the mantle-piece as he listened diligently. You could feel the track of his gaze over your face.

Unable to take it anymore, you turned to look at him. “He’s doing so well, Thor. We’re doing so well. I’m happy. Really happy,” The words sounded panicked. You hated that. Thor reached out, cupping your hand in his. “I just...I don’t want it to ruin anything,” you finished. Looking up, the god’s concerned stare was waiting like you knew it would be.

“Do you love him?” was all Thor said.

Heat rose in your cheeks.

The truth was that you did. That you always had, and probably always would. But in hindsight, those three little words had heralded the beginning of the end last time. When his rose-tinted effort to contain the smarm and arrogance had well and truly gone absent without leave.

In some ways, the old Loki had taken your love to mean your unending loyalty. Unconditionally, in the truest sense of the word. Your unquestioning support and adulation no matter his behaviour, however many times you tried to stand your ground. And while his actions these past months had gone a long way to assuage those lingering doubts – the fear that it could flare up his old habits made your blood run cold.

Seconds ticked on while Thor’s question hung in the air.

“I thought it best you have time to consider it before the moment was upon you,” he said quietly. “My apologies if I have overstepped.”

You shook your head, linking your fingers through his. Without realising, tears had begun to prick your eyes. He raised a palm to your cheek, wiping away a droplet which had spilled over the rim. “No tears, sis” he rumbled lovingly. “It’s Christmas.” You felt a weak smile grow as Thor extended his forefinger. It lingered in the air between you. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

He moved the finger slowly to the penguin’s beak.

It pressed against the jumper. Against the lumpy misshapen knob of black knit, Thor's eyes never leaving yours.

And as the squeaking whine of electronic Jingle Bells filled the air, it dissolved the scent of sadness into a waft of cinnamon candlesmoke. You and the god of Thunder began to laugh.

Loki leant against the counter of your kitchenette.

He watched as you waited for the kettle to finish boiling, staring at it intently. Something was off. Your fingertip ran around the rim of a glass teapot sitting on the side. Loki could smell the spiced chai leaves from here. “Are you alright, darling?” he ventured cautiously. You offered a weak smile as the kettle clicked off the boil. Steam billowed around your jawline as you poured.

Loki was careful not to let his face betray the nerves bubbling in his stomach. If he was honest with himself, he’d been waiting for something to crop up that would throw the fine-sailing vessel of your relationship off-course.

It’s only a matter of time until she changes her mind, he’d think with twisting sadness as he watched you sleep. With me, it’s always just a matter of time.

He absorbed the purse of your lips, the absent-minded wipe of a droplet of tea from the counter-top before you blew the steam gently. Its motion sent a wave of rich tea and spices in his direction.

Your slipper socks rustled against the tiles as you made your way over to him, still resting against the counter’s lip. You set the mug down to his side, hands sliding over his hips. They clasped behind his back at the base of his spine.

“I have to talk to you about something, and it’s not easy-” you murmured softly.

Your eyes were wide and vulnerable, a slight tremble of your lip making his heart race. The scent of your festive perfume filled his nostrils, like ginger biscuits.

“Go on,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure he could manage much more.

You swallowed thickly, fingers toying with the back of his sweater. Black, today. Loki hoped it was not an ensemble of foreshadowing. “I ran into your brother in the common room."

Loki exhaled a sigh of relief. “Oh,” he breathed, a small smile breaking. But your expression didn’t change. The god felt your fingers pull nervously against his sweater. Bad for the knit. “He um-now, don’t be mad at him-” Loki began to frown. “He uh, mentioned that you were maybe thinking about...um, saying something soon. To me.” Realisation blossomed, vines of anger and embarrassment twisting around the thought as he cursed his brother’s loose lips. He should have known. Loki swallowed, feeling his features harden but being unable to stop it.

Your gaze fell, the trace of your fingertips around his middle as you brought them together in front of you; pulling nervously at the ends.

“That devious, two-faced buffoon” Loki muttered bitterly, concerned eyes darting back to your face. “I told him that in confidence.” You looked up at him incredulously. “Well, he told you about Steve in confidence.” “That’s different,” he snipped, noting the immediate rise of your eyebrow. “It’s you.” he finished, glancing to the floor as he felt his cheeks begin to flush. “Loki…” he heard you begin softly, curling a rogue strand of hair behind his ear. He couldn’t look. “Loki,” you repeated, firmer this time. Your forefinger nudged beneath his chin, tilting his face up. He wondered if he looked as wilted as he felt. From the look in your eyes, he suspected he did.

“I understand,” he heard himself say. It was petulant. It was cold and detached in a way that scared him. The warm hit of your lips meeting his unexpectedly made his knees buckle, hands bracing against the counter-top. Your palms slid up his chest, over the tensed ropes of shoulder muscle, over the curve of his neck. Everything was in that kiss. The heat, the longing, the need. “Loki,” you breathed softly into his open mouth. “Mmm,” he mewled, eyes closed. “I love that you feel that way, I’m just…I’m scared that-” Loki opened his eyes. He saw a swirl of tears threatening the beautiful hues of your irises. There would be no tears of sadness this Christmas, he had decided. Not on his account. “Afraid, of things that may change?” he probed quietly. You nodded.

Loki sighed, cupping your jaw. He ran a thumb back and forth across your lips, moist from the kiss. “Change be not always a harbinger of doom, I hope the last few months have reassured you of that.” You nodded again. “I know that it's different now, it just...took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected...I just-not yet...” you trailed off. Loki smiled softly. The way your body was pressed against him, as close as you could be. The way your fingers gripped and grasped against each dip of muscle it encountered as though he would turn to dust if you did not.

Loki realised in that moment that if this scenario had occurred years before, he would have been insulted. He would have been childish. Enraged, perhaps, at the audacity of the woman he adored doubting him. But now, all he felt was closeness. The bravery of your admission that he felt his soul. That you trusted him again.

Words, he pondered as he placed a lingering kiss on your forehead. What wounds have I inflicted on this woman with words.

Action must once more be paramount. The words can heal, he realised as he memorised the softness of your skin beneath his lips. But words can wait. “Perhaps we can agree” he began, measuring every syllable with the rise and fall of your chest against his own, “that, should you feel comfortable in doing so...you could, say it first- when it is right for you. When it is right for us.”

His voice was deep and melodic, a rumbling lullaby of devotion he willed would still your thundering heart. He hoped you could feel the love simmering in those words. He had never hoped anything more. You tilted your head into the curve of his neck, kissing the exposed skin. “-and be safe in the knowledge the sentiment will be returned, when you are ready” he added quietly.

Your hands slipped once more around his hips, pulling him tightly against you with your head buried in his neck. Loki held you like that, letting the waft perfume from your hair fill his nostrils.

I love you, he mouthed silently.

The soundless click of his tongue over mute syllables wound its way through strands of your hair.

He felt your fingers begin toying with the waistband of his trousers. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “Darling,” he purred as your head left his shoulder. You tilted your face to meet his gaze, alight with the comfortable joy he knew so well.

“You’re amazing,” you whispered. A smile had spread across your face that made Loki’s heart burst. The first button on his chinos popped. “Well, quite-” he smouldered playfully. Loki felt his hips rock upwards into your waiting palm, a low groan bubbling in his throat while you stroked the arousal growing beneath cotton. “You fixed the secret Santa, didn’t you?” you coaxed. Changing the subject, Loki noticed. But he let it pass. It was hardly a question.

Loki rolled his lips, pondering. “I may have ensured that my brother and Rogers drew each others names, yes.” He let out another moan as you squeezed the thick root of his cock through the chinos. “Good boy,” you hummed. It sent a shudder of need up his spine.

“How long have you been planning this?” you said, beginning to walk backwards with Loki’s sweater firmly in your grip. He chuckled, curls tapping against his jaw. “A while,” Loki smouldered. “Seeds that I have planted have sprouted most elegantly. Although there were a few pieces of the puzzle which remained unclear until the last few days.”

You paused, making the god’s stomach collide with yours. He released an exaggerated ooft.

“Final pieces of the puzzle? Like the fact they actually have feelings for each other?” you giggled. Loki shrugged non-nonchalantly. You were playing. “A minor detail,” he drawled. “Everything needed to be in place, just in case.” Your mouth hung open, stunned into silence. “It’s Christmas,” he added with mock-incredulity – as though it explained everything. “Miraculous things happen at Christmas in this realm, do they not?”

His fingers curled around your shoulders, switching your positions and lowering himself to the sofa. He widened his legs, hips flexing upwards. Fairy lights gleamed and sparked their warmth in a halo, golden spills rolling over your skin as you pulled the jumper you wore over your head. Firelight flickered, casting dancing shadows against the walls.

He would never understand the beauty of you. And perhaps, Loki surmised, he did not have to. It was his fortune to appreciate it, not question it.

A finger twirled in the air, evaporating his clothes in a seasonal golden and scarlet shimmer. Yours followed. Loki’s thighs widened further as you manoeuvred onto his lap, covering his mouth in a hungry kiss. His fingers raked through your hair, hips bucking up as he sought the sweetest harbour his body had ever known.

“Say it again,” he pleaded darkly as you slipped a hand between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock to your entrance. Twin gasps cut the air as you seated yourself on the thick tip, slow motions rocking down into shallow moans. “Good boy,” you murmured lovingly in his ear.

Loki let his head fall back against the cushions, fingertips sinking into the soft rounds of your ass as he bottomed out. He let you work against his body, feeling your pleasure spill and slip against the taut veins of his cock. Every little gasp, every breathy groan of his name. Your god. Each slow roll of your hips met the gentle buck from a clench of his ass. Your god. He was yours, completely.

You knew that now for certain. He was sure of it. And all the while, a few floors below, his brother was wrapping a gift for Steve Rogers.

As the final strip of crinkled sellotape was placed firmly against the paper, and as the ribbon he had smuggled from the common room garland was retied- one might have been forgiven for thinking a green light glowed within it; leaking from loose edges.

Thor had frowned, doing a double take.

The package seemed to tingle in his hold. The blonde put the strange feeling down to nerves.

But as his younger brother lost himself in pleasure, spilling his seed and his devotion within the arms of his beloved; the gift had been made whole in Thor’s oblivious hands.

A gift that would change everything.

Continued in Comfort and Joy (Final)

Tags

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @goddessofwonderland

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki (marvel)#loki imagine #loki x you #loki x female reader smut #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #loki gif

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lexirosewrites · 1 month ago

Note

Okay the one person who had the thing about Eddie painting their kids rooms reminded me of a little small idea I had a while back.

Eddie and Steve are the first in their little found family to get married and mated, before the younger kids even graduate high school. When they announce their engagement Hop offers to clean up the area around the cabin for them to have their wedding and reception. All the kids decide to help with the preparations as a group gift, cleaning the area and doing all the decorations. I think it looks something like the wedding from Breaking Dawn, with lights strung all over the trees and hanging flowers. It fully looks like a fairytale.

Eddie takes all of Hellfire to pick his tux and their suits. Eddie gets a fully black tux and shirt but his tie and pocket square are the sage green he and Steve picked for their color.

Steve brings Robin, El, Max, Joyce, and Claudia to go dress shopping - he had originally brought them to look at a suit but they all saw him glancing at the dresses when he thought they weren’t looking. He ends up picking a simple dress with beautiful butterfly sleeves and lace detailing. Everyone else gets their dresses (except for Robin who managed to find a suit in the exact right color to match everyone else).

They get married and it’s absolutely beautiful, Hop tries to hide that he’s crying but Wayne proudly cries from his chair. When the ceremony finishes the kids yell at everyone to go inside so they can rearrange everything for the reception. Joyce and Claudia help get the food all set up and the clear space for a “dance floor”. Everyone has a great time dancing and celebrating. Jonathan and Nancy were able to come to town in time for the wedding and he takes photos all night, developing them and putting together a scrapbook for them as his gift.

(Now here’s where the previous post made me remember this)

A few months later, Robin and Steve are about to start school in Chicago and they had found a set of townhouses right next to each other to move into. Everyone who is able to comes out to help move the three of them in and then have a house warming party. Most of the gifts are standard house warming gifts: throw pillows, pots and pans, silverware, etc. Except for the gift Will hands to Steve and Eddie. It’s pretty big but not very thick, and surprisingly heavy. When they open it they find a hand painted version of their favorite photo from their wedding. It was during their first dance, holding each other close with their foreheads pressed together, with the largest smiles on their face.

That painting takes a place of pride in their living room.

~~Katie from MunsonFamilyBand (because tumblr hates sideblogs)

perfectly happy lil steddie wedding🥰🥰🥰

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks #anon asks

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zepskies · 1 year ago

Text

Smoke Eater - Part 4

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Take It to the Limit” by The Eagles

Word Count: 6,000 Tags/Warnings: Major fluff alert. Some angst(ish). First date part 2…and a second date?

Part 4: Rocky Road

You enjoyed dinner more than you expected to. Dean was funny, and charming, and deeper than you might’ve expected at first glance.

He also didn’t let you even think of paying any part of the bill. In his view, he’d asked you out, so your purse was staying the hell away from the little black booklet.

The only problem was, the freely flowing conversation you and Dean had all through dinner kind of stalled after you left the restaurant. He’d chosen a spot in downtown, so the two of you walked leisurely down the sidewalk, under rows of soft overhead string lights and a gentle chill on the evening air.

Dean had his hands in his pockets, and even that casual gait caught your eye. He looked good tonight in his black slacks and jacket. The dark blue buttoned-down worked for him too, just as well as the red plaid and jeans worked for him last night. Just like his gray lieutenant’s polo and navy pants worked for him.

In fact, you didn’t think there was anything that wouldn’t work for him.

“So, what’s next?” you asked. Dean glanced over at your question, looking a bit uncertain.

“Well, I’m gonna be honest. This is as far as I thought things through,” he said. “What do you want to do?”

You hummed and touched your chin. You paused and considered your surroundings. There were little shops, clubs, and restaurants on either side of the street. But then you spotted something nearby: a cart with a pink overhead. You smiled.

“You up for dessert?” you asked, pointing to the ice cream stand.

Dean shot you a slightly disbelieving look.

“Yeah? Ice cream after that fancy shmancy meal?”

You shrugged. “Why not? Come on.”

You looped your arm through his and tugged him along with you. He smiled at your enthusiasm and let you do it.

He later watched you try no less than five flavors of ice cream before you settled on the first one you tried—chocolate chip cookie dough. Which you ordered on a cone, with brownie pieces on top.

“The only way to do business,” you told him sagely. Dean grinned and held a hand to his chest.

“A woman after my own heart,” he said. “Here I thought you were gonna make fun of me for getting rocky road.”

“Why would I? I don’t discriminate when it comes to dessert…and only fun people get rocky road,” you countered.

“Tell that to my brother,” Dean scoffed. “He gets plain-ass chocolate chip. Every time.”

“Oh, you have a brother?” you noted with interest. “Any other siblings?”

“Nope,” he said, and accepted his cone from Steve, the guy operating the kiosk. “Just my giant little brother.”

“Giant?”

“…You’ll understand when you meet him.”

“When, not if. That’s encouraging,” you said with a smile. Dean shot you an amused grin back.

You held your cone with one hand while you rifled through your purse for your wallet with the other, but by the time you looked up, Dean was already handing over his credit card. Your brows furrowed.

“Dean—”

“This is all still part of the date,” he rationalized. His green eyes fairly danced with amusement, which you begrudgingly accepted with a sigh.

You then looked at your cone from all angles, trying to spy the best spot to start. You decided to go at it from the side. Though you tried to be graceful about it, you realized you hadn’t totally succeeded when a brownie piece almost fell off. You yelped and managed to catch it before it fell on your dress.

“Smooth,” Dean remarked. You shrugged and hummed happily while you took another bite.

“I told you. I don’t play when it comes to dessert,” you told him.

“Clearly,” he teased.

You briefly looked up at him through your lashes, making him smile. You really did have a pretty pair of eyes. And when your tongue came out a little to lick your lips, he was drawn to that as well.

And an even prettier mouth, he thought. Damn.

He raised a thumb to wipe away a bit of ice cream left behind on your lower lip. You blinked up at him, your eyes a bit wider, and he saw the bout of shyness in your resulting smile.

You shivered then with a bit of cold, whether from the ice cream or the chill on the air.

Dean’s mouth quirked, and he gave you his cone. “Hold this for a sec.”

You did so for him, but you watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned. He tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket.

Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

“Hey, man!” said Steve. “Don’t forget your wallet.”

Hesitating, Dean’s lips pursed as he turned his head to look back. Sure enough, he’d left his wallet on the counter. Letting out a subtle sigh, he glanced down and found you biting your lip in amusement.

He released you to go back and pluck his wallet out of Steve’s hand. The kid looked college age, and chilled out of his mind, like he didn’t realize he’d just interrupted another dude’s flow.

“Thank you,” said Dean, a bit pointedly.

Steve gave him a bored smile.

While you continued walking and finishing off your ice cream, you went with the flow of people coming and going; couples, families, people walking their dogs and with their children for an evening stroll.

You learned that Dean’s brother was a few years younger than him. The two shared an apartment, though Sam had a girlfriend, Eileen.

She worked at a specialty school, specifically with hearing impaired children, as she herself was deaf. Sam had learned a bit of ASL in school and worked on becoming fluent after they met. He was an assistant prosecutor working in the district attorney’s office.

“Wow. They sound like a power couple,” you remarked.

Dean inclined his head. “Yeah, they’re the smartest people I know, to be honest. They’ve been going strong for a few years now.”

And he learned that you were an only child, raised by your grandparents, and still living in your childhood home with your grandfather.

You admitted to him that after your grandmother passed away a few years ago, you just never found it within yourself to move out and leave George alone. He still needed you…and you probably needed him too, in some ways.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dean said. "Taking care of your people is number one."

You gave him an appreciative look. He wanted to ask where your parents were in this situation, but he didn’t want to pry if you weren’t up for sharing. It felt like something even more personal.

You then stopped in front of a beautiful French bakery. It was closed, but you could still smell freshly baked bread and sweetness through the glass doors. You leaned against them while you peered inside.

“Ooh, I’ll need to come back here,” you said, before you remembered that you did in fact have company. Dean sidled up next to you and crossed his arms in amusement.

“You want a piece of cake or something?” he teased. “I’ll get my crowbar from the car.”

You grinned. “Not the jaws of life?”

“That’d be a bit extreme for a glass door, don’t you think?” He raised a brow at you.

“Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to for quality cake,” you quipped back.

“All right,” he chuckled. “I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

You’d lost count of how many times you’d blushed tonight, but it had to be a record. You turned to him, but unconsciously kept a hand on the glass door.

“When I was in culinary school, I dreamed of opening up a bakery just like this,” you said. There was the gleam of memory and nostalgia in your eyes, and Dean found himself getting swept up in it.

“What happened to the dream?” he asked.

You sighed, letting your hand fall away from the glass. You hesitated to confide in him, to reveal this much of yourself. But there was something about this man that…well, that made you trust him. Even with this part. You tugged his jacket closer to your body.

“My grandma died about a month before I graduated,” you said. “She and my grandpa raised me…after my mom left.”

Dean’s gaze gentled, while his brows drew together. That just about answered his question about your parents.

“How old were you when she left?” he asked.

“Officially? Six years old,” you replied, sighing heavily. “She didn’t want responsibilities.”

He acknowledged this with a slow nod. He got the feeling your dad was never in the picture.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“No,” you said. “I lived with my grandparents from the beginning. She’d breeze in and out of town, from what little I remember. But one day, Gram finally asked her: When are you going to realize that you’re a mother?”

You glanced away for a moment. “Well, after that…I never saw her again.”

You took in a deeper breath to steady yourself. You didn’t often talk about this, let alone with someone you’d just met. Yet again, you felt safe enough with Dean.

“But after Gram passed, my grandfather was already retired,” you continued. “I needed a job, not a pipe dream.”

Dean had been listening to you with rapt attention. This was the first time he truly frowned. The wind was brushing strays of your hair across your forehead. He reached out and tucked a few strands behind your ear.

“Not all dreams are pipe dreams,” he said.

You flickered at a smile, looking up at him.

“Fair enough,” you replied.

Your eyes roamed his face this time, falling to his lips. You found yourself tilting up your chin when his face began bowing toward yours.

You felt his warm breath on your cheek, his hands grasping your arms, your hands gently resting against his sternum. By now, your heart was tripping up, double timing. And yet, you felt at ease as your eyes closed.

Only to be startled out of your wits when a dog yapped by your feet.

Even Dean jolted. His grip on your arms tightened on reflex. Both of you turned with wide eyes at the little Pomeranian that yanked at its leash. The woman holding it pulled her dog back.

“Sorry!” she called as she passed by. And she was still wrangling with the dog as she made her way down the sidewalk.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. You read the thought across Dean’s frowning face. Though you felt the same way, you still smiled.

You leaned up and kissed his cheek instead.

“Thanks for listening,” you said. “I know that was heavy for a first date. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes were warm when he looked down at you. You seemed to be honest and straightforward, which wasn’t a bad thing. In fact, he liked that a lot. In his experience, it wasn’t something he encountered very often with women.

Or maybe just with the women you’ve gone after, he thought.

“Nah, don’t apologize…but I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” he said, thumbing at your cheek.

You could see that he meant it too. “Thank you.”

You ducked your head, fighting embarrassment. Not that he'd given to reason to feel embarrassed or ashamed, but you still couldn't believe he'd cracked you open like a book, without even trying. Andréa was sure to tease the hell out of you for that one.

You glanced back up and managed to spy something past Dean's shoulder. You smiled and took his hand.

“Oh look! There’s a bookstore open,” you said, and led him farther down the path.

Dean later followed you, once again with his hands in his pockets as you browsed through each aisle. He should’ve known you were a reader. But you were cute, he thought, as your fingers brushed across certain spines of books while you scanned their titles and covers.

You glanced over at him. “I’m sorry. This must be really boring for you right now. I’ll come back another time—”

“No, no. I’m along for the ride,” Dean said with a smirk. It earned another amused look from you.

“Well, buckle up then,” you teased. You led him down to the Mystery section—murder mysteries being your favorite, you told him. He raised a brow at that.

“What? Were you expecting romance novels with telenovela-style covers?” you asked. And you draped yourself across the bookshelf, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, like you were about to “faint.”

Dean shook his head at you, but his eyes were dancing again.

“Nah, give me a juicy mystery,” you said, as you continued to browse. “Clues, evidence, surprise twists, villain reveals…”

“Well, I’ll say that real life Magnum P.I. ain’t all that fun,” Dean remarked. That made you raise your head from the book you were inspecting and look over at him.

“Hmm, that sounds like personal experience,” you said.

He hesitated, but he eventually nodded. “Yeah. My dad’s a cop. A detective, actually, in homicide. Real Law & Order, you could say.”

Your eyes grew comically wide, and Dean had to laugh.

“Now that is interesting,” you said. “How long has he been a cop?”

“Heh. My whole life,” Dean replied. There was something behind his eyes that you didn’t miss.

“Hmm, something tells me being a cop's kid isn't all it’s cracked up to be,” you said. "Bet you couldn't get away with anything, huh?"

He smirked. "Not a damn thing. I coulda sworn my dad had cameras planted all over the house."

But no, his dad was just that good at reading him and Sam. Granted, it wasn't often that they tried to pull one over on the old man, but their teenage years had been...interesting.

You laughed lightly while you continued to browse.

“Your dad was tough growing up?” you asked. Dean considered you, and your question with a tilt of his head.

“My dad’s a good guy,” he said. “The best at his job. And he’s the toughest son of a bitch I know.”

You knew then that there was a story there, or maybe several, but you didn’t want to push it. Dean seemed to be at the edge of what he was willing to get into on the subject.

So you just nodded and chose a couple of books, which you insisted on paying for yourself. Unlike a meal or dessert, he hadn’t participated in this part, you reasoned.

“That’s not how that works,” Dean said, but he begrudgingly let you pay for your own books. You carried the bag out of the store with a satisfied smile on your face.

Dean shook his head with a smile of his own. Though he did take your free hand in his on the way back to the car.

Dean meant to take you back to your house…but maybe you weren’t quite ready for the night to end just yet. He was driving his sleek tank of a car down the main road when you got an idea.

“Oh, we’re going to drive over the river,” you remembered. “There’s this little spot right before it where you can pull over and park, see the skyline… Have you seen it?”

Dean glanced over at you with a gleam in his eye. “I have. It’s definitely a sight to see.”

“I haven’t seen it in a while,” you said.

A smile curved his lips. “Well, that’s a damn shame. Let’s fix that.”

The Impala soon pulled into a clearing off the side of the road, just before the Kansas River. True to your memory, there was a beautiful view of the city skyline. The half-moon above sprinkled light across the water. The waves were otherwise black and choppy.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen it at night,” Dean said. You turned to him and smiled.

“Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time,” you said.

He raised his brows at you. “We’re not done yet. You’re the one who wanted to sightsee.”

You chuckled and nodded in agreement. You were feeling a bit warm with the heating vents on you, so you unclipped your seatbelt and shrugged off Dean’s coat. You folded it up nicely and draped it across your lap.

You didn’t notice it, but Dean’s gaze drifted over to you when you bared your shoulders again, revealing smooth skin and the tantalizing neckline of your dress. Even in the dim lighting, the vibrant green caught his eye.

But it wasn’t until the car stopped rumbling so much that you noticed the radio playing hard rock in the background. It sounded like a lot of screaming and guitars to you.

“What the hell are we listening to?” you said.

“Hmm, not an Van Halen fan?” Dean replied, giving you a chiding eye. “Aw, I don’t know if I can trust you if you can’t appreciate Sammy Hagar.”

“Oh no,” you said with a laugh. “He likes mullet rock.”

“Yes, he does,” Dean grinned. “The bigger, crazier hair the better.”

You rolled your eyes. “All right, Hendrix. Mind if we change the station?”

You hand reached for the radio knob, but Dean’s hand batted yours away.

“Ey, ey!” he said, though a smile raised the corners of his lips. “Driver picks the music.”

You full on laughed then.

“Okay, but can we please listen to something less grating?” you asked.

Dean snorted. “All right, your highness. Let me see what I’ve got…”

You watched him curiously as he reached over on his side and pulled out a few ancient relics.

“Oh my God. You still listen to cassettes?” you asked in disbelief. Dean shot you another grin as he sorted through a handful of them. He considered you for a moment, debating his decision.

He chose a cassette and popped it in. Soon, the rhythmic melody of a guitar filtered through the speakers. You tilted your head.

“The Eagles?” you guessed. The song was familiar…

“All alone at the end of the evening, and the bright lights have faded to blue,” crooned from the speakers. “I was thinking 'bout a woman who might have loved me. I never knew…”

“Wow, all right,” Dean said, grinning. “Guess I haven’t lost you to the Bieber pop masses just yet.”

You gave him an amused look.

“My grandfather is an Eagles fan,” you smirked back. Though you patted the Impala’s dashboard. “But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’ve got an old soul.”

“I prefer the term ‘vintage,’” Dean quipped. He noted the way you seemed to be admiring his car. “My dad played this stuff all the time when Sam and I were kids…I guess the car’s another thing he passed down to me.”

You looked over at him then. “Yeah? He give it to you as a graduation gift or something?”

He inclined his head, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Sort of,” he said. You smiled then, shifting towards him in your seat.

“Ooh, that sounds like a story.”

He acknowledged that with a nod, though he hesitated. “You really wanna hear it?”

You rested an elbow on the armrest between his chair and yours, chin in hand, staring up at him encouragingly. Your brows raised in a “go ahead” gesture.

With an amused sigh, Dean nodded.

“Believe it or not, after I graduated high school, I wasn’t sold on the whole college thing.” His lips twisted wryly. “That was more Sam’s beat. So my dad thought it’d be good if I followed in his.”

Your eyes widened. “You were going to be a police officer?”

Dean smiled. “Well, I got into the Academy.”

That was where he met Cas, all those years ago. First, they were sort of silently competing on their scores, each wanting to be the best in the class. For Dean, it was because John Winchester had been the best. To this day, he still held some of the top scores in the region.

Meanwhile, Cas had come from a strict, religious family that drove him to succeed in whatever he put his mind to. Cas hadn’t liked Dean’s casual, joking, surface-level arrogance, thinking he wasn’t taking it seriously.

Dean had thought the guy had a serious pole stuck up his ass.

“I was about halfway through, but I just…my heart wasn’t in it,” Dean said. “Cas could see it. He asked me why the hell I was working so hard if I didn’t really want this.”

“To beat me?” Cas had asked. “To level your dad’s scores? To prove you can be him? Frankly, that sounds idiotic. Not to mention, utterly pathetic.”

Dean hadn’t wanted to face it at first, but he’d known then that his archenemy was right.

“You know…up until then, I don’t think I’d ever considered what the hell it was I wanted,” he admitted. His fingers drummed on the Impala’s steering wheel.

He knew you were listening. Just listening, like you were taking in his every word. He didn’t know why, but your quiet attention made him keep trying to fill the silence.

“So I quit,” he said. “Didn’t tell my dad…but Sam was the one who put the Fire Academy paperwork on my desk. Once I worked up the nerve, I took the firefighter test on the sly.”

“Was your dad mad?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “At first.”

It had also been the first time he felt like he’d truly impressed his father. Namely, by not doing what John expected of him. That was more Sam’s territory.

“But after I made it through the Fire Academy, he gave me Baby,” said Dean.

He laid a fond hand on the steering wheel. It hadn't been the first time John said he was proud of Dean, but that day was still a good one, etched into Dean's memories. Sometimes it blocked out the darker ones.

“Baby?” you asked in bemusement.

He blinked, looking over at you with a quirk of his lips.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, and swiped a hand over his mouth.

That, and the way his gaze dropped a bit, you thought he seemed a bit embarrassed. Not by his old-ass taste in music, but by the fact that he’d named his car.

What a giant dork, you thought, as your smile grew.

Leveraging a hand on the armrest, you leaned over and kissed his cheek for the second time tonight. This time you lingered a moment, leaving the mark of your lipstick behind.

“It’s a good name,” you said.

Dean smiled back at you. Right about then, that was about the best thing you could’ve said.

He raised a hand to your cheek, brushing the back of his hand along your jaw. He settled on gently taking your chin between his fingers, before he leaned in and finally kissed you.

It started out slow as his lips moved against yours with purpose. Your eyes closed at the feel of him. Each new touch drew you in further, making your head swim with warmth, and your heart begin to race.

You unconsciously reached out and grasped the collar of his shirt. His hand moved to cradle your cheek and guide your head to the side, so he could deepen the kiss. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and his tongue soon swept across to sooth it. You couldn't help the small, pleasant shudder that ran through you.

You weren’t sure who stopped first, but when your eyes eventually opened again, it was to those talented lips curving into a smile.

“Not gonna lie, I’ve been trying to do that all night,” he said, chuckling a bit.

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up into your throat and managed to escape. “I know.”

You leaned against him, with your hand still curled in his shirt. Your eyes briefly lowered.

At the delightfully hair-raising feeling of his thumb brushing back and forth against your cheek, you glanced back up at him. Your smile became more flirtatious, yet still with a bit of nervous energy.

“Want to reenact the moment?” you asked.

Dean grinned and pulled you in again, flush against him this time. All while his music continued to play. You recognized another one from your grandpa’s collection. This time, you didn’t mind.

This man might’ve been vintage in his tastes, but his touch made you feel brand new.

“What would you say…about doing this again sometime?” Dean asked.

That is, between feverish kisses on your front porch. You’d been trying to say goodnight for a few minutes now, but every time you tried, the two of you kept getting pulled back into the feel of one another.

He held you close against him, his hands molded to the curve up your hip and pressing into your lower back. Your fingers were alternatively tangling and soothing into his hair. You clung to his shoulders as his lips and tongue continued to rob you of your breath, as well as your good sense.

You were making out with this man under the porch light like you were a teenager afraid of getting caught by your grandfather. (He was probably asleep by now anyway.)

And you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been kissed like this, touched like this. The evening chill spread goosebumps across your arms, but your insides were warm and champagne-bubbly. All the while, his lips made slow, sensuous movements against yours.

When you caught a moment to pull away, just to take in a few needed breaths, your eyes flicked up to his.

“I’d say make an appointment,” you teased. “I’m a busy woman.”

You tapped his chin with a finger, making him smile.

“Oh, yeah? Can you pencil me in…say, tomorrow at 7:00?” he asked.

“Tomorrow.” You raised a brow. “Anxious, are we?”

His smile faltered, just a little. “Too soon?”

“…No,” you admitted. If you were honest, you wanted to see him too. “7:00 is good.”

Dean was about to reply when the porch lights flickered overhead. Your brows furrowing, you turned and spotted your grandfather in the window by the front door. You didn't like the look of his smile, hinting with mischief.

“Oh my God,” you muttered.

“Did I make you miss curfew or something?” Dean joked.

Embarrassment began to heat up your face in record time. You groaned and shook your head as you turned in his arms.

“My grandfather, ladies and gentlemen.” Your lips quirked. “And his incurable wit.”

Dean’s hands fell away from you so you could reach for the door, just as you heard it unlocking from the other side. George cracked the door open a few inches and peeked his head out.

“If you wanna put on a show, you should sell tickets,” he quipped, giving you and Dean a raised brow.

“Grandpa, really?”

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just kiddin’,” he said. “Hey there. Heard you’re the fireman who saved the cheeky damsel in distress here. How many does that make for ya this week?”

You sighed. And you pleaded with Dean, via your eyes, to be patient here.

“Well, wouldn’t call her a damsel, but she’s certainly the prettiest one so far,” Dean told your grandfather, though he shot you a teasing wink.

You couldn't help a smile. “Yeah, he’s got a caravan of us waiting back at the station.”

Dean chuckled along with George, who then gave him a more appraising look. Dean knew when he was being silently judged. He met the older man’s gaze directly.

“Anyway, sorry for crashing in. Glad to meet you, son. I’m George,” said your grandfather. He stepped out fully to shake Dean’s hand.

Dean took it with a firm, but relaxed grip. He nodded respectfully.

“Good to meet you. I’m Dean.”

“So I’ve heard,” George said, his tone a little enigmatic. “You plannin’ on seeing her again? ‘Cause I think you might be a special one. She had me approve no less than five different outfits before she decided. And I said, ‘Hun, if he’s half a man at all he wouldn’t care if you were dressed in a woolly potato sack and nothin' else—’”

“All right, is that Wheel of Fortune on back there?” you quickly cut in. A wilder blush was taking root down to your neck. You pointed back inside, where you could hear the TV playing. “I think your show’s back on.”

George’s eyes widened like he was catching on to you, reading between your lines. He “apologized” with placating hands.

“Okay, that’s my cue. Though I’ll have you know, it’s Shark Week on the Discovery channel. Wheel of Fortune’s for old people,” he quipped.

Dean smirked. “Hell yeah. Gotta love Shark Week.”

“Right?” George gestured at him as if he’d just found a kindred spirit. “A whole damn week of sharks.”

“Great! Well, sounds like the show’s back from commercial,” you hinted. Actually, you hoped he recorded those episodes. You loved a good nature documentary that made you fear the beach for another six months.

“All right, I got it.” Grinning to himself, George gave Dean one last tip of his imaginary hat. “G’night, you two.”

“Good night,” you and Dean replied, though yours was distinctly tighter, while he was more amused. He glanced down at you after the door clicked shut.

You bit your lip, meeting his eyes. “Sorry. No matter how old I get, that’s still his way of being protective.”

“As he should,” Dean said, chuckling a little. He bucked a gentle fist under your chin. “You’re like a daughter to him, right?”

Your lingering embarrassment began to even out into a smile.

“Yeah, basically.”

“With a sharp shooter like you, I’ll bet he doesn’t have a lot of chances to look out for you,” he remarked.

You inclined your head at that.

“Maybe,” you replied. You reached out to straighten the lines of his jacket. You’d managed to wrinkle him a bit since hanging out in his car by the river earlier.

“So…you said something about 7:00 tomorrow?” you asked tentatively.

Dean grinned. But it soon faded as reality seemed to interject. “Ah…you know what, let’s do 7:30.”

His hands found your waist, but they soon slid around to hold you securely in his arms. It made a heady feeling rush through you, down to the tips of your fingers. You soothed through the mess you made of his hair and rested your hands on his arms afterwards.

“Are you sure?” you asked. Dean thought about it for a moment.

“Let’s do 8:00, just to be safe. I get off work at 6:30,” he said. He wanted to give plenty of wiggle room, just in case something cropped up.

You agreed, even though this aspect of things had the potential to make you anxious. You knew his job was unpredictable at times, but you were a planner, organized and detail oriented. And you did not like the unknown. Hence your mildly anal tendency to make checklists.

Dean could see the wheels turning in your head though.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. When he gave his word, he fully intended to keep it.

So he kissed away the reservations he saw in your eyes.

Despite the pure magic that had been last night, today, you had a suspicious feeling.

It was 8:30 in the evening, and Dean still wasn’t knocking at your door. He hadn’t responded to your text either.

You were ready for dinner. This time in a black dress, nice, short, and enticing, as your grandma had long ago impressed on you: every woman should have a little black dress.

At 9:00, you gave into your instincts and tried to call him. It rang for a while, but ultimately went to voicemail. You sat on the living room couch with a glass of wine in one hand, your cell in the other, and you frowned.

You still hadn’t moved the vase of tulips from the coffee table, and you noticed them again. They were starting to open up nicely.

Grandpa George glanced over at you from his favorite chair, watching your mood begin to sour with both annoyance and worry.

“He’s probably just caught up on a call,” he said, and raised a teasing brow. “Maybe saving another girl from a crapped out elevator.”

You shot him a droll look. “Thanks. But yeah, he probably just got held up at work…not standing me up at all.”

Logically, you knew it was probably the first option, but the less secure part of yourself wondered.

George relented when he saw how pensive you looked, with a tinge of impatience.

“You must really like this guy,” he said.

You looked over at him with a soft frown, but you didn’t answer. It told your grandfather everything he needed to know. Even with the protective walls you tended to put up whenever you were anxious, he knew you better than anyone.

“It may not be what you think. Just relax,” he said. “He’ll call eventually. And when he does, let him actually talk.”

You huffed. But your lips formed a smile as you nodded in agreement.

Whatever was holding Dean up, you just hoped he was safe.

However, by 10:00 p.m., you were both worried and irritated. You changed out of your dress, but you kept your makeup on in one last ditch effort of hope.

You laid in bed and watched Friends reruns. Even though you knew every joke, it usually still managed to make you laugh.

Not this time, unfortunately.

But, Dean finally called around 10:30. You let it ring a few times before you answered your cell.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” you greeted flatly.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said. His tone was already full of remorse, but you couldn’t help it. You were feeling petty.

“I don’t think you get to ‘sweetheart’ me tonight,” you said.

“Look, uh…I’m sorry I’m not there,” said Dean. “I really am. I wasn’t trying to do this to you.”

…Damn it, you actually believed him. You heard the sincerity in his voice, along with how tired he seemed to be. And that was before he even got to the explanation.

“There was a five-car pileup on the road, and someone got T-boned on either side,” he said. “It took us basically all night to clear it up and get the injured out of there. Was a big mess. I just left the station a few minutes ago.”

Your irritation soon fizzled into shame. You should’ve known.

“That’s…a really good reason,” you said.

“Just let me shower and I’ll come right out to you.”

You sighed. “It’s okay, Dean. Let’s just try for another time. You must be tired…”

It was his turn to sigh.

“I know it ain’t okay,” he said eventually. “I can hear you clear as day.”

Your lips quirked wryly.

“How can I complain, Dean? You were literally saving people.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re all dolled up, and I’m not gonna get to see it,” he said. A bit of his usual charm and good humor crept into his voice. It made you smile.

“And I really put some effort into this smokey eye,” you quipped. You also curled a strand of styled hair around your finger absently.

“I’m gonna pretend I know what that means, but it sounds sexy as hell,” he replied.

Your smile deepened. “Okay, what about Tuesday night?”

“Hmm…sorry, that day’s no good. I’ve got a 24-hour shift Tuesday to Wednesday,” he said. “What about Thursday night?”

“Ah…I’ve got an appointment after work,” you said.

Really it was George’s doctor’s appointment, but you wanted to go with him this time to make sure the doctor was doing his best to diagnose George’s persistent cough.

He’d also been more tired lately, you’d noticed, even after a full night’s sleep. He was blaming it on old age, but you knew your grandfather. You knew when he was downplaying to avoid the doctor, or to avoid worrying you.

“Friday?” you posed.

“I’ve got another long shift,” Dean said.

Damn it. It seemed like his schedule and yours wasn’t very compatible. You were starting to get discouraged…

“Oh, wait,” Dean said, his tone perking up. “I forgot. I’ve got this Monday off, during the day…why don’t I take you out to lunch?”

“Lunch?” You considered it with a frown. “It can be hard for me to leave my desk. I have to take a lot of calls.”

Most days you worked straight through your lunch hour. But Dean’s reply was smooth.

“That’s all right,” he said. “How about I bring takeout? Office picnic.”

Slowly, you smiled.

“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday then,” you agreed.

“Yes, you will,” Dean said. His tone was firm. “You can count on it.”

AN: Okay! How did you like part 2 of their first date? (And Dean meeting George for the first time lol.)

Hopefully round two of their second date will go better. Though Dean finally meets the infamous boss...

Next Time:

“Hey, what’s your progress on the Greenway account…oh,” said Nick, pausing where he stood.

He took note of Dean in the room and straightened his posture. His expression changed from its lazy gait, to a more tightened one. You swore you could spot a tinge of annoyance as well, like he was surprised that he hadn’t caught you alone in your office.

“I see I’m interrupting,” he said.

Holding in a sigh, you looked over at Dean and found him similarly assessing Nick.

“This is Dean. You might remember him from last week, when the elevator broke down. He’s one of the firefighters who got me out,” you said.

Your hand fell on your companion's arm. “Dean, this is—”

“Her boss,” Nick said. He seemed to lighten up and give Dean a smile, reaching over to shake the man’s hand. Dean obliged him.

“So I’ve heard,” he said.

Keep Reading: PART 5

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

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@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#Rocky Road #Smoke Eater #Part 4 #dean winchester #Firefighter!Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x female reader #firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #firefighter AU #dean winchester AU #spn #supernatural #zepskies writes

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